Her mantle show'd the yellow samphirepod, Her girdle the dove-color'd wave serene. 'Shepherd,' said she, 'and will you wrestle now And with the sailor's hardier race engage?' 'A sheep,' I answered: 'add whate'er you will.' 'I cannot,' she replied, 'make that return : Our hided vessels in their pitchy round Seldom, unless from rapine, hold a sheep. But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have imbib'd In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyok'd His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave: Shake one and it awakens, then apply And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there. To baffle touch, and rose forth undefin'd; Above her knee she drew the robe succinct, Above her breast, and just below her arms. 'This will preserve my breath when tightly bound, If struggle and equal strength should so constrain.' Thus, pulling hard to fasten it, she spake, And, rushing at me, clos'd: I thrill'd throughout And seem'd to lessen and shrink up with cold. Again with violent impulse gush'd my blood, And hearing nought external, thus absorb'd, I heard it, rushing through each turbid vein, Shake my unsteady swimming sight in air. Yet with unyielding though uncertain arms I clung around her neck; the vest beneath Of secret arts and not of human might; I was indeed o'ercome with what regret, She smil'd, and more of pleasure than disdain Was in her dimpled chin and liberal lip, And eyes that languish'd, lengthening, just like love. She went away; I on the wicker gate Leant, and could follow with my eyes alone The sheep she carried easy as a cloak; And the long moonbeam on the hard wet sand Lay like a jasper column half uprear'd." TO YOUTH WHERE art thou gone, light-ankled Youth? And smile that never left thy mouth Then somewhat seem'd to whisper near If aught befell it, Love was by I may not call thee back; but thou Returnest when the hand Of gentle Sleep waves o'er my brow His poppy-crested wand; Then smiling eyes bend over mine, Then lips once press'd invite; But sleep hath given a silent sign, And both, alas! take flight. TO AGE WELCOME, old friend! These many years The Fates have laid aside their shears I was indocile at an age When better boys were taught, But thou at length hast made me sage, If I am sage in aught. Little I know from other men, Too little they from me, But thou hast pointed well the pen That writes these lines to thee. Thanks for expelling Fear and Hope, Rather what lies before my feet He who hath brav'd Youth's dizzy heat ROSE AYLMER AH what avails the sceptred race, Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes A night of memories and of sighs Of sights in Fiesole right up above, At what they seem'd to show me with their nods, Their frequent whispers and their pointing shoots, A gentle maid came down the garden-steps To drive the ox away, or mule, or goat, Borne hard upon weak plant that wanted Walk'd off? 'T were most ungrateful: for sweet scents Are the swift vehicles of still sweeter thoughts, And nurse and pillow the dull memory That would let drop without them her best stores. They bring me tales of youth and tones of love, And 'tis and ever was my wish and way To let all flowers live freely, and all die (Whene'er their Genius bids their souls depart) Among their kindred in their native place. I never pluck the rose; the violet's head Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank And not reproach'd me; the ever-sacred cup Of the pure lily hath between my hands Was come, and bees had wounded them, and flies Of harder wing were working their way through And scattering them in fragments under foot. So crisp were some, they rattled unevolv'd, Others, ere broken off, fell into shells, Unbending, brittle, lucid, white like snow, And like snow not seen through, by eye or sun: Yet every one her gown receiv'd from me Was fairer than the first. I thought not so, But so she prais'd them to reward my care. I said, "You find the largest." "This indeed," Cried she, "is large and sweet." She held one forth, Whether for me to look at or to take I dar'd not touch it; for it seem'd a part Of her own self; fresh, full, the most mature Of blossoms, yet a blossom; with a touch To fall, and yet unfallen. She drew back The boon she tender'd, and then, finding not The ribbon at her waist to fix it in, Dropp'd it, as loth to drop it, on the rest. FAREWELL TO ITALY I LEAVE thee, beauteous Italy! no more Few are the heads thou hast so rarely rais'd; But thou didst promise this, and all was well. For we are fond of thinking where to lie When every pulse hath ceas'd, when the lone heart Can lift no aspiration - reasoning THE MAID'S LAMENT ELIZABETHAN I LOV'D him not; and yet now he is gone I feel I am alone. I check'd him while he spoke; yet could he speak, Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, To vex myself and him: I now would give He hid his face amid the shades of death. Who wasted his for me; but mine returns, And this lone bosom burns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep And waking me to weep Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years Wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God! such was his latest prayer, These may she never share! Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, Than daisies in the mould, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, His name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be, And oh pray too for me! THE dreamy rhymer's measur'd snore Another comes with stouter tread, ROBERT BROWNING THERE is delight in singing, though none hear Beside the singer; and there is delight Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and bale, No man hath walk'd along our roads with step So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue Of Alpine heights thou playest with, borne on Beyond Sorrento and Amalfi, where ON THE DEATH OF M. D'OSSOLI AND HIS WIFE MARGARET FULLER OVER his millions Death has lawful power, Thou, far from home, art sunk beneath the surge Of the Atlantic; on its shore; in reach Of help; in trust of refuge; sunk with all Precious on earth to thee . . . a child, a wife! Proud as thou wert of her, America Is prouder, showing to her sons how high Swells woman's courage in a virtuous breast. She would not leave behind her those she lov'd: Such solitary safety might become And shortly none will hear my failing voice, |