CCXXV. A DREAM OF EGYPT. "Where's my Serpent of old Nile?" NIGHT sends forth many an eagle-wingèd dream To where the sunburnt Nile, with opulent stream Enriched the noon; I spurned earth's common clay; That Snake whose sting was bliss. Nations did seem But camels for the burden of our joy; Kings were our slaves; our wishes glowed in the air And grew fruition; night grew day, day night, Lest the high bacchanal of our loves should cloy; We reined the tiger, Life, with flower-crowned hair, Abashlessly abandoned to delight. Р CCXXVI. IN THE LOUVRE. A DINGY picture: others passed it by With massy pillars and long front, where gleamed Of the encroaching sea crawled to his feet, CCXXVII. WITCHES. METHOUGHT I saw three sexless things of storm, Of hovering ills, each than the other worse, Letcheries and hates that make this world a hearse Wherein the heart of life is coffined warm. Said the First Witch: "I am Lust, the worm that feeds Upon the buds of love;" the Second said: "I am the tyrant's tyrant, cruel Fear;' The Third: "I am the blight of evil deeds, The murrain of sick souls," and in my ear Whispered a name of paralysing dread. CCXXVIII. THE HEART'S SACREDNESS. A WRETCHED thing it were to have our heart Till of the heavens it can give back no part. For He who would walk there would walk alone; He who would drink there must be first endued With single right to call that stream his own; Keep thou thine heart close fastened, unrevealed, A fenced garden and a fountain sealed. CCXXIX. VESUVIUS, AS SEEN FROM CAPRI. A WREATH of light blue vapour, pure and rare, Mounts, scarcely seen against the bluer sky, In quiet adoration, silently, Till the faint currents of the upper air Disdain it, and it forms, dissolving there, The dome, as of a palace, hung on high Over the mountain :-underneath it lie Vineyards, and bays, and cities white and fair. Might we not hope this beauty would engage All living things into one pure delight? A vain belief;-for here, our records tell, Rome's understanding tyrant, from men's sight Hid, as within a guilty citadel, The shame of his dishonourable age. |