Belongs to each and all who gaze upon.

  The Witch beheld it not, for in her hand

  She held a woof that dimmed the burning brand.

  XXVIII

  265

  This lady never slept, but lay in trance

  All night within the fountain—as in sleep.

  Its emerald crags glowed in her beauty’s glance;

  Through the green splendour of the water deep

  She saw the constellations reel and dance

  270

  Like fire-flies—and withal did ever keep

  The tenour of her contemplations calm,

  With open eyes, closed feet, and folded palm.

  XXIX

  And when the whirlwinds and the clouds descended

  From the white pinnacles of that cold hill,

  275

  She passed at dewfall to a space extended,

  Where in a lawn of flowering asphodel

  Amid a wood of pines and cedars blended,

  There yawned an inextinguishable well

  Of crimson fire—full even to the brim,

  280

  And overflowing all the margin trim.

  XXX

  Within the which she lay when the fierce war

  Of wintry winds shook that innocuous liquor

  In many a mimic moon and bearded star

  O’er woods and lawns;—the serpent heard it flicker

  285

  In sleep, and dreaming still, he crept afar—

  And when the windless snow descended thicker

  Than autumn leaves, she watched it as it came

  Melt on the surface of the level flame.

  XXXI

  She had a boat, which some say Vulcan wrought

  290

  For Venus, as the chariot of her star;

  But it was found too feeble to be fraught

  With all the ardours in that sphere which are,

  And so she sold it, and Apollo bought

  And gave it to this daughter: from a car

  295

  Changed to the fairest and the lightest boat

  Which ever upon mortal stream did float.

  XXXII

  And others say, that, when but three hours old,

  The first-born Love out of his cradle lept,

  And clove dun Chaos with his wings of gold,

  300

  And like a horticultural adept,

  Stole a strange seed, and wrapped it up in mould,

  And sowed it in his mother’s star, and kept

  Watering it all the summer with sweet dew,

  And with his wings fanning it as it grew.

  XXXIII

  305

  The plant grew strong and green, the snowy flower

  Fell, and the long and gourd-like fruit began

  To turn the light and dew by inward power

  To its own substance; woven tracery ran

  Of light firm texture, ribbed and branching, o’er

  310

  The solid rind, like a leaf’s veinèd fan—

  Of which Love scooped this boat—and with soft motion

  Piloted it round the circumfluous ocean.

  XXXIV

  This boat she moored upon her fount, and lit

  A living spirit within all its frame,

  315

  Breathing the soul of swiftness into it.

  Couched on the fountain like a panther tame,

  One of the twain at Evan’s feet that sit—

  Or as on Vesta’s sceptre a swift flame—

  Or on blind Homer’s heart a wingèd thought,—

  320

  In joyous expectation lay the boat.

  XXXV

  Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow

  Together, tempering the repugnant mass

  With liquid love—all things together grow

  Through which the harmony of love can pass;

  325

  And a fair Shape out of her hands did flow—

  A living Image, which did far surpass

  In beauty that bright shape of vital stone

  Which drew the heart out of Pygmalion.

  XXXVI

  A sexless thing it was, and in its growth

  330

  It seemed to have developed no defect

  Of either sex, yet all the grace of both,—

  In gentleness and strength its limbs were decked

  The bosom swelled lightly with its full youth,

  The countenance was such as might select

  335

  Some artist that his skill should never die,

  Imaging forth such perfect purity.

  XXXVII

  From its smooth shoulders hung two rapid wings,

  Fit to have borne it to the seventh sphere,

  Tipped with the speed of liquid lightenings,

  340

  Dyed in the ardours of the atmosphere:

  She led her creature to the boiling springs

  Where the light boat was moored, and said: ‘Sit here!’

  And pointed to the prow, and took her seat

  Beside the rudder, with opposing feet.

  XXXVIII

  And down the streams which clove those mountains vast,

  Around their inland islets, and amid

  The panther-peopled forests, whose shade cast

  Darkness and odours, and a pleasure hid

  In melancholy gloom, the pinnace passed;

  350

  By many a star-surrounded pyramid

  Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky,

  And caverns yawning round unfathomably.

  XXXIX

  The silver noon into that winding dell,

  With slanted gleam athwart the forest tops,

  355

  Tempered like golden evening, feebly fell;

  A green and glowing light, like that which drops

  From folded lilies in which glow-worms dwell,

  When Earth over her face Night’s mantle wraps;

  Between the severed mountains lay on high,

  360

  Over the stream, a narrow rift of sky.

  XL

  And ever as she went, the Image lay

  With folded wings and unawakened eyes;

  And o’er its gentle countenance did play

  The busy dreams, as thick as summer flies,

  365

  Chasing the rapid smiles that would not stay,

  And drinking the warm tears, and the sweet sighs

  Inhaling, which, with busy murmur vain,

  They had aroused from that full heart and brain.

  XLI

  And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud

  370

  Upon a stream of wind, the pinnace went:

  Now lingering on the pools, in which abode

  The calm and darkness of the deep content

  In which they paused; now o’er the shallow road

  Of white and dancing waters, all besprent

  375

  With sand and polished pebbles:—mortal boat

  In such a shallow rapid could not float.

  XLII

  And down the earthquaking cataracts which shiver

  Their snow-like waters into golden air,

  Or under chasms unfathomable ever

  380

  Sepulchre them, till in their rage they tear

  A subterranean portal for the river,

  It fled—the circling sunbows did upbear

  Its fall down the hoar precipice of spray,

  Lighting it far upon its lampless way.

  XLIII

  385

  And when the wizard lady would ascend

  The labyrinths of some many-winding vale,

  Which to the inmost mountain upward tend—

  She called ‘Hermaphroditus!’—and the pale

  And heavy hue which slumber could extend

  390

  Over its lips and eyes, as on the gale

  A ra
pid shadow from a slope of grass,

  Into the darkness of the stream did pass.

  XLIV

  And it unfurled its heaven-coloured pinions,

  With stars of fire spotting the stream below;

  395

  And from above into the Sun’s dominions

  Flinging a glory, like the golden glow

  In which Spring clothes her emerald-wingèd minions,

  All interwoven with fine feathery snow

  And moonlight splendour of intensest rime,

  400

  With which frost paints the pines in winter time.

  XLV

  And then it winnowed the Elysian air

  Which ever hung about that lady bright,

  With its aethereal vans—and speeding there,

  Like a star up the torrent of the night,

  405

  Or a swift eagle in the morning glare

  Breasting the whirlwind with impetuous flight,

  The pinnace, oared by those enchanted wings,

  Clove the fierce streams towards their upper springs.

  XLVI

  The water flashed, like sunlight by the prow

  410

  Of a noon-wandering meteor flung to Heaven;

  The still air seemed as if its waves did flow

  In tempest down the mountains; loosely driven

  The lady’s radiant hair streamed to and fro:

  Beneath, the billows having vainly striven

  415

  Indignant and impetuous, roared to feel

  The swift and steady motion of the keel.

  XLVII

  Or, when the weary moon was in the wane,

  Or in the noon of interlunar night,

  The lady-witch in visions could not chain

  420

  Her spirit; but sailed forth under the light

  Of shooting stars, and bade extend amain

  Its storm-outspeeding wings, the Hermaphrodite;

  She to the Austral waters took her way,

  Beyond the fabulous Thamondocana,—

  XLVIII

  425

  Where, like a meadow which no scythe has shaven,

  Which rain could never bend, or whirl-blast shake,

  With the Antarctic constellations paven,

  Canopus and his crew, lay the Austral lake—

  There she would build herself a windless haven

  430

  Out of the clouds whose moving turrets make

  The bastions of the storm, when through the sky

  The spirits of the tempest thundered by:

  XLIX

  A haven beneath whose translucent floor

  The tremulous stars sparkled unfathomably,

  435

  And around which the solid vapours hoar,

  Based on the level waters, to the sky

  Lifted their dreadful crags, and like a shore

  Of wintry mountains, inaccessibly

  Hemmed in with rifts and precipices gray,

  440

  And hanging crags, many a cove and bay.

  L

  And whilst the outer lake beneath the lash

  Of the wind’s scourge, foamed like a wounded thing,

  And the incessant hail with stony clash

  Ploughed up the waters, and the flagging wing

  445

  Of the housed cormorant in the lightning flash

  Looked like the wreck of some wind-wandering

  Fragment of inky thunder-smoke—this haven

  Was as a gem to copy Heaven engraven,—

  LI

  On which that lady played her many pranks,

  450

  Circling the image of a shooting star,

  Even as a tiger on Hydaspes’ banks

  Outspeeds the antelopes which speediest are,

  In her light boat; and many quips and cranks

  She played upon the water, till the car

  455

  Of the late moon, like a sick matron wan,

  To journey from the misty east began.

  LII

  And then she called out of the hollow turrets

  Of those high clouds, white, golden and vermilion,

  The armies of her ministering spirits—

  460

  In mighty legions, million after million,

  They came, each troop emblazoning its merits

  On meteor flags; and many a proud pavilion

  Of the intertexture of the atmosphere

  They pitched upon the plain of the calm mere.

  LIII

  465

  They framed the imperial tent of their great Queen

  Of woven exhalations, underlaid

  With lambent lightning-fire, as may be seen

  A dome of thin and open ivory inlaid

  With crimson silk—cressets from the serene

  470

  Hung there, and on the water for her tread

  A tapestry of fleece-like mist was strewn,

  Dyed in the beams of the ascending moon.

  LIV

  And on a throne o’erlaid with starlight, caught

  Upon those wandering isles of aëry dew,

  475

  Which highest shoals of mountain shipwreck not,

  She sate, and heard all that had happened new

  Between the earth and moon, since they had brought

  The last intelligence—and now she grew

  Pale as that moon, lost in the watery night—

  480

  And now she wept, and now she laughed outright.

  LV

  These were tame pleasures; she would often climb

  The steepest ladder of the crudded rack

  Up to some beakèd cape of cloud sublime,

  And like Arion on the dolphin’s back

  485

  Ride singing through the shoreless air;—oft-time

  Following the serpent lightning’s winding track,

  She ran upon the platforms of the wind,

  And laughed to hear the fire-balls roar behind.

  LVI

  And sometimes to those streams of upper air

  490

  Which whirl the earth in its diurnal round,

  She would ascend, and win the spirits there

  To let her join their chorus. Mortals found

  That on those days the sky was calm and fair,

  And mystic snatches of harmonious sound

  495

  Wandered upon the earth where’er she passed,

  And happy thoughts of hope, too sweet to last.

  LVII

  But her choice sport was, in the hours of sleep,

  To glide adown old Nilus, where he threads

  Egypt and Aethiopia, from the steep

  500

  Of utmost Axumè, until he spreads,

  Like a calm flock of silver-fleecèd sheep,

  His waters on the plain: and crested heads

  Of cities and proud temples gleam amid,

  And many a vapour-belted pyramid.

  LVIII

  505

  By Moeris and the Mareotid lakes,

  Strewn with faint blooms like bridal chamber floors,

  Where naked boys bridling tame water-snakes,

  Or charioteering ghastly alligators,

  Had left on the sweet waters mighty wakes

  510

  Of those huge forms—within the brazen doors

  Of the great Labyrinth slept both boy and beast,

  Tired with the pomp of their Osirian feast.

  LIX

  And where within the surface of the river

  The shadows of the massy temples lie,

  515

  And never are erased—but tremble ever

  Like things which every cloud can doom to die,

  Through lotus-paven canals, and wheresoever

  The works of man pierced that serenest sky

  With tombs, and towers, and fanes, ’twas her delight

&n
bsp; 520

  To wander in the shadow of the night.

  LX

  With motion like the spirit of that wind

  Whose soft step deepens slumber, her light feet

  Passed through the peopled haunts of humankind,

  Scattering sweet visions from her presence sweet,

  525

  Through fane, and palace-court, and labyrinth mined

  With many a dark and subterranean street

  Under the Nile, through chambers high and deep

  She passed, observing mortals in their sleep.

  LXI

  A pleasure sweet doubtless it was to see

  530

  Mortals subdued in all the shapes of sleep.

  Here lay two sister twins in infancy;

  There, a lone youth who in his dreams did weep;

  Within, two lovers linkèd innocently

  In their loose locks which over both did creep

  535

  Like ivy from one stem;—and there lay calm

  Old age with snow-bright hair and folded palm.

  LXII

  But other troubled forms of sleep she saw,

  Not to be mirrored in a holy song—

  Distortions foul of supernatural awe,

  540

  And pale imaginings of visioned wrong;

  And all the code of Custom’s lawless law

  Written upon the brows of old and young:

  ‘This,’ said the wizard maiden, ‘is the strife

  Which stirs the liquid surface of man’s life.’

  LXIII

  545

  And little did the sight disturb her soul,—

  We, the weak mariners of that wide lake

  Where’er its shores extend or billows roll,

  Our course unpiloted and starless make

  O’er its wild surface to an unknown goal:—

  550