As now 'tis done to thee, Endymion. Hence Was I in no wise startled. So recline Upon these living flowers. Here is wine, Alive with sparkles-never, I aver, Since Ariadne was a vintager,
So cool a purple: taste these juicy pears, Sent me by sad Vertumnus, when his fears Were high about Pomona: here is cream, Deepening to richness from a snowy gleam; Sweeter than that nurse Amalthea skimm'd For the boy Jupiter: and here, undimm'd By any touch, a bunch of blooming plums Ready to melt between an infant's gums: And here is manna pick'd from Syrian trees, In starlight, by the three Hesperides. Feast on, and meanwhile I will let thee know Of all these things around us." He did so, Still brooding o'er the cadence of his lyre; And thus: "I need not any hearing tire By telling how the sea-born goddess pined For a mortal youth, and how she strove to bind Him all in all unto her doting self.
Who would not be so prison'd? but, fond elf, He was content to let her amorous plea
Faint through his careless arms; content to see An unseized heaven dying at his feet; Content, O fool! to make a cold retreat, When on the pleasant grass such love, lovelorn, Lay sorrowing; when every tear was born Of diverse passion; when her lips and eyes Were closed in sullen moisture, and quick sighs Came vex'd and pettish through her nostrils small. Hush! no exclaim-yet, justly might'st thou call Curses upon his head.-I was half glad, But my poor mistress went distract and mad, When the boar tusk'd him: so away she flew To Jove's high throne, and by her plainings drew Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer's beard; Whereon, it was decreed he should be rear'd
Each summer-time to life. Lo! this is he, That same Adonis, safe in the privacy Of this still region all his winter-sleep.
Ay, sleep; for when our love-sick queen did weep Over his waned corse, the tremulous shower Heal'd up the wound, and, with a balmy power, Medicined death to a lengthen'd drowsiness: The which she fills with visions, and doth dress In all this quiet luxury; and hath set
Us young immortals, without any let,
To watch his slumber through. "Tis well nigh pass'd, Even to a moment's filling up, and fast
She scuds with summer breezes, to pant through The first long kiss, warm firstling, to renew Embower'd sports in Cytherea's isle.
Look, how those winged listeners all this while Stand anxious: see! behold!"-This clamant word Broke through the careful silence; for they heard A rustling noise of leaves, and out there flutter'd Pigeons and doves: Adonis something mutter'd, The while one hand, that erst upon his thigh Lay dormant, moved convulsed and gradually Up to his forehead. Then there was a hum Of sudden voices, echoing, "Come! come! Arise! awake! Clear summer has forth walk'd Unto the clover-sward, and she has talk'd Full soothingly to every nested finch : Rise, Cupids! or we'll give the blue-bell pinch
To your dimpled arms. Once more sweet life begin!" At this, from every side they hurried in,
Rubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrists,
And doubling overhead their little fists
In backward yawns. But all were soon alive :
For as delicious wine doth, sparkling, dive
In nectar'd clouds and curls through water fair, So from the arbour roof down swell'd an air
Odorous and enlivening; making all
To laugh, and play, and sing, and loudly call
For their sweet queen: when lo! the wreathed green
Disparted, and far upward could be seen Blue heaven, and a silver car, air-borne,
Whose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds of morn, Spun off a drizzling dew,-which falling chill
On soft Adonis' shoulders, made him still
Nestle and turn uneasily about.
Soon were the white doves plain, with necks stretch'd out,
And silken traces lighten'd in descent;
And soon, returning from love's banishment, Queen Venus leaning downward open-arm'd: Her shadow fell upon his breast, and charm'd A tumult to his heart, and a new life
Into his eyes. Ah, miserable strife, But for her comforting! unhappy sight,
But meeting her blue orbs! Who, who can write Of these first minutes? The unchariest muse
To embracements warm as theirs makes coy excuse.
O it has ruffled every spirit there, Saving love's self, who stands superb to share The general gladness: awfully he stands; A sovereign quell is in his waving hands; No sight can bear the lightning of his bow; His quiver is mysterious, none can know What themselves think of it; from forth his eyes There darts strange light of varied hues and dyes: A scowl is sometimes on his brow, but who Look full upon it feel anon the blue
Of his fair eyes run liquid through their souls. Endymion feels it, and no more controls The burning prayer within him; so, bent low, He had begun a plaining of his woe.
But Venus, bending forward, said: "My child, Favour this gentle youth; his days are wild With love-he-but alas! too well I see Thou know'st the deepness of his misery. Ah, smile not so, my son: I tell thee true, That when through heavy hours I used to rue
The endless sleep of this new-born Adon', This stranger aye I pitied. For upon A dreary morning once I fled away Into the breezy clouds, to weep and pray For this my love: for vexing Mars had teased Me even to tears: thence, when a little eased, Down-looking, vacant, through a hazy wood, I saw this youth as he despairing stood: Those same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind; Those same full fringed lids a constant blind Over his sullen eyes: I saw him throw Himself on wither'd leaves, even as though Death had come sudden; for no jot he moved, Yet mutter'd wildly. I could hear he loved Some fair immortal, and that his embrace
Had zoned her through the night. There is no trace Of this in heaven: I have mark'd each cheek, And find it is the vainest thing to seek; And that of all things 'tis kept secretest. Endymion one day thou wilt be blest: So still obey the guiding hand that fends
Thee safely through these wonders for sweet ends. "Tis a concealment needful in extreme; And if I guess'd not so, the sunny beam Thou shouldst mount up to with me.
Here must we leave thee."-At these words up flew The impatient doves, up rose the floating car, Up went the hum celestial. High afar The Latmian saw them minish into nought;
And, when all were clear vanish'd, still he caught A vivid lightning from that dreadful bow. When all was darken'd, with Ætnean throe The earth closed-gave a solitary moan— And left him once again in twilight lone.
He did not rave, he did not stare aghast, For all those visions were o'ergone, and past, And he in loneliness: he felt assured
Of happy times, when all he had endured
Would seem a feather to the mighty prize. So, with unusual gladness, on he hies
Through caves, and palaces of mottled ore, Gold dome, and crystal wall, and turquois floor, Black polish'd porticoes of awful shade, And, at the last, a diamond balustrade, Leading afar past wild magnificence,
Spiral through ruggedest loop-holes, and thence Stretching across a void, then guiding o'er Enormous chasms, where, all foam and roar, Streams subterranean tease their granite beds; Then heighten'd just above the silvery heads Of a thousand fountains, so that he could dash The waters with his spear; but at the splash, Done heedlessly, those spouting columns rose Sudden a poplar's height, and 'gan to inclose His diamond path with fretwork streaming round Alive, and dazzling cool, and with a sound, Haply, like dolphin tumults, when sweet shells Welcome the float of Thetis. Long he dwells On this delight; for, every minute's space, The streams with changed magic interlace: Sometimes like delicatest lattices,
Cover'd with crystal vines; then weeping trees, Moving about as in a gentle wind,
Which, in a wink, to watery gauze refined, Pour'd into shapes of curtain'd canopies, Spangled, and rich with liquid broideries Of flowers, peacocks, swans, and naiads fair. Swifter than lightning went these wonders rare; And then the water, into stubborn streams Collecting, mimick'd the wrought oaken beams, Pillars, and frieze, and high fantastic roof, Of those dusk places in times far aloof Cathedrals call'd. He bade a loath farewell To these founts Protean, passing gulf, and dell, And torrent, and ten thousand jutting shapes, Half seen through deepest gloom, and grisly gapes, Blackening on every side, and overhead
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