Were emblem'd in the woof; with every shape That skims, or dives, or sleeps, 'twixt cape and cape. The gulphing whale was like a dot in the spell, Yet look upon it, and 'twould size and swell To its huge self; and the minutest fish
Would pass the very hardest gazer's wish, And show his little eye's anatomy. Then there was pictur'd the regality
Of Neptune; and the sea nymphs round his state, In beauteous vassalage, look up and wait. Beside this old man lay a pearly wand, And in his lap a book, the which he conn'd So stedfastly, that the new denizen
Had time to keep him in amazed ken,
To mark these shadowings, and stand in awe.
The old man rais'd his hoary head and saw The wilder'd stranger-seeming not to see, His features were so lifeless. Suddenly
He woke as from a trance; his snow-white brows Went arching up, and like two magic ploughs Furrow'd deep wrinkles in his forehead large, Which kept as fixedly as rocky marge,
Till round his wither'd lips had gone a smile. Then up he rose, like one whose tedious toil Had watch'd for years in forlorn hermitage, Who had not from mid-life to utmost age Eas'd in one accent his o'er-burden'd soul,
Even to the trees. He rose: he grasp'd his stole, With convuls'd clenches waving it abroad,
And in a voice of solemn joy, that aw'd Echo into oblivion, he said:-
"Thou art the man! Now shall I lay my head In peace upon my watery pillow: now Sleep will come smoothly to my weary brow. O Jove! I shall be young again, be young! O shell-borne Neptune, I am pierc'd and stung With new-born life! What shall I do? Where go, When I have cast this serpent-skin of woe?I'll swim to the syrens, and one moment listen Their melodies, and see their long hair glisten;
Anon upon that giant's arm I'll be, That writhes about the roots of Sicily: To northern seas I'll in a twinkling sail, And mount upon the snortings of a whale
To some black cloud; thence down I'll madly sweep On forked lightning, to the deepest deep, Where through some sucking pool I will be hurl'd With rapture to the other side of the world! O, I am full of gladness! Sisters three, I bow full hearted to your old decree! Yes, every god be thank'd, and power benign, For I no more shall wither, droop, and pine. Thou art the man!" Endymion started back Dismay'd; and, like a wretch from whom the rack Tortures hot breath, and speech of agony, Mutter'd: "What lonely death am I to die In this cold region? Will he let me freeze, And float my brittle limbs o'er polar seas? Or will he touch me with his searing hand, And leave a black memorial on the sand? Or tear me piece-meal with a bony saw, And keep me as a chosen food to draw
His magian fish through hated fire and flame? O misery of hell! resistless, tame,
Am I to be burnt up? No, I will shout,
Until the gods through heaven's blue look out!- O Tartarus! but some few days agone Her soft arms were entwining me, and on Her voice I hung like fruit among green leaves: Her lips were all my own, and-ah, ripe sheaves Of happiness! ye on the stubble droop, But never may be garner'd. I must stoop
Love! love, farewell! This horrid spell
My head, and kiss death's foot. Is there no hope from thee? Would melt at thy sweet breath.-By Dian's hind Feeding from her white fingers, on the wind
I see thy streaming hair! and now, by Pan, I care not for this old mysterious man!"
He spake, and walking to that aged form, Look'd high defiance. Lo! his heart 'gan warm With pity, for the grey-hair'd creature wept.
Had he then wrong'd a heart where sorrow kept? Had he, though blindly contumelious, brought Rheum to kind eyes, a sting to humane thought, Convulsion to a mouth of many years?
He had in truth; and he was ripe for tears. The penitent shower fell, as down he knelt Before that care-worn sage, who trembling felt 290 About his large dark locks, and faultering spake :
"Arise, good youth, for sacred Phoebus' sake! I know thine inmost bosom, and I feel A very brother's yearning for thee steal Into mine own: for why? thou openest The prison gates that have so long opprest My weary watching. Though thou know'st it not, Thou art commission'd to this fated spot
For great enfranchisement. O weep no more; I am a friend to love, to loves of yore: Aye, hadst thou never lov'd an unknown power, I had been grieving at this joyous hour.
But even now most miserable old,
I saw thee, and my blood no longer cold Gave mighty pulses: in this tottering case Grew a new heart, which at this moment plays As dancingly as thine. Be not afraid, For thou shalt hear this secret all display'd, Now as we speed towards our joyous task.”
So saying, this young soul in age's mask Went forward with the Carian side by side: Resuming quickly thus; while ocean's tide Hung swollen at their backs, and jewel'd sands Took silently their foot-prints.
"My soul stands Now past the midway from mortality, And so I can prepare without a sigh
To tell thee briefly all my joy and pain.
I was a fisher once, upon this main,
And my boat danc'd in every creek and bay;
286 humane MS. : human 1818.
Rough billows were my home by night and day,- The sea-gulls not more constant; for I had No housing from the storm and tempests mad, But hollow rocks,-and they were palaces Of silent happiness, of slumberous ease: Long years of misery have told me so. Aye, thus it was one thousand years ago. One thousand years!-Is it then possible To look so plainly through them? to dispel A thousand years with backward glance sublime? To breathe away as 'twere all scummy slime From off a crystal pool, to see its deep, And one's own image from the bottom peep? Yes: now I am no longer wretched thrall, My long captivity and moanings all Are but a slime, a thin-pervading scum, The which I breathe away, and thronging come Like things of yesterday my youthful pleasures.
"I touch'd no lute, I sang not, trod no measures: I was a lonely youth on desert shores.
My sports were lonely, 'mid continuous roars, 340 And craggy isles, and sea-mew's plaintive cry Plaining discrepant between sea and sky.
Dolphins were still my playmates; shapes unseen Would let me feel their scales of gold and green, Nor be my desolation; and, full oft, When a dread waterspout had rear'd aloft Its hungry hugeness, seeming ready ripe To burst with hoarsest thunderings, and wipe My life away like a vast sponge of fate, Some friendly monster, pitying my sad state, Has dived to its foundations, gulph'd it down, And left me tossing safely. But the crown Of all my life was utmost quietude: More did I love to lie in cavern rude, Keeping in wait whole days for Neptune's voice, And if it came at last, hark, and rejoice! There blush'd no summer eve but I would steer My skiff along green shelving coasts, to hear
329 At one glance back the mistiness of time? Draft.
The shepherd's pipe come clear from aery steep, Mingled with ceaseless bleatings of his sheep: And never was a day of summer shine, But I beheld its birth upon the brine: For I would watch all night to see unfold Heaven's gates, and Ethon snort his morning gold Wide o'er the swelling streams: and constantly At brim of day-tide, on some grassy lea, My nets would be spread out, and I at rest. The poor folk of the sea-country I blest With daily boon of fish most delicate: They knew not whence this bounty, and elate Would strew sweet flowers on a sterile beach.
"Why was I not contented? Wherefore reach At things which, but for thee, O Latmian! Had been my dreary death? Fool! I began To feel distemper'd longings: to desire The utmost privilege that ocean's sire Could grant in benediction: to be free Of all his kingdom. Long in misery I wasted, ere in one extremest fit
I plung'd for life or death. To interknit One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff Might seem a work of pain; so not enough Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt, And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt Whole days and days in sheer astonishment;
Forgetful utterly of self-intent;
Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow.
Then, like a new fledg'd bird that first doth show His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill,
I tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'Twas freedom! and at once I visited The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed. No need to tell thee of them, for I see
That thou hast been a witness-it must be- For these I know thou canst not feel a drouth, By the melancholy corners of that mouth. So I will in my story straightway pass
395 For such a drink thou canst not feel a drouth,... Draft.
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