"You are dark, and Maud is light; I am dark; and it is said Opposites are better wed;-- So I think I'm right."
"You are dark and Maud is fair!" I could laugh at this excuse If this aching, mad abuse Were not more than hair!
But I'll write him as a-glad Some few happy words and light, Touching on some past delight, That last year we had.
Not one line of broken vows, Sighs or hurtful tears unshed, Faithless lips far better dead, Nor a withered rose.
But a rose, this _Perle_ to wear,-- _Perle des Jardins_ delicate With faint fragrant life elate,-- When he weds her there.
So; 'tis finished! It is well! Go, thou rose! I have no tear, Kiss, or word for thee to bear, And no woe to tell.
Only be thus full of life, Cold and calm, impassionate, Filled with neither love nor hate, When he calls her wife!
Here I have heard on hills the battle clash Roar to the windy sea that roared again: When, drunk with wrath, upon the clanking plain Barbaric kings did meet in war and dash Their mailéd thousands down, heard onset crash Like crags contending 'gainst the battering main. Torrents of helms, beaming like streams of rain, Blue-billowing 'neath the pale moon's fitful flash; Saw the scared moon hang over the black wood Like a pale wreath of foam; shields, spears, and swords Shoot green as meteors thro' the steely flood, Or shine like ripples 'round their heathen lords Standing like stubborn rocks, whence the wild wave Of war circled in steel and foamed out brave on brave.
'Neath saffron stars and satin skies, dark-blue, Between dim sylvan isles, a happy two. We sailed, and from the siren-haunted shore, All mystic in its mist, the soft gale bore The Siren's song, while on the ghostly steeps Strange foliage grew, deeps folding upon deeps, That hung and beamed with blossom and with bud, Thick-powdered, pallid, or like urns of blood Dripping, and blowing from wide mouths of blooms On our bare brows cool gales of sweet perfumes. While from the yellow stars that splashed the skies O'er our light shallop dropped soft mysteries Of calm and sleep, until the yellower moon Rose full of fire above a dark lagoon; And as she rose the nightingales on sprays Of heavy, shadowy roses burst in praise Of her wild loveliness, with boisterous pain Wailing far off around a ruined fane. And 'round our lazy keel that dipped to swing The spirits of the foam came whispering; And from dank Neptune's coral-columned caves Heard the Oceanids rise thro' the waves; Saw their smooth limbs cold-glimmering in the spray, Tumultuous bosoms panting with their play; Their oozy tresses, tossed unto the breeze, Flash sea-green brightness o'er the tumbled seas. 'Mid columned isles, glance vaguely thro' the trees, We watched the Satyrs chase the Dryades; Heard Pan's fierce trebles and the Triton's horn Sound from the rock-lashed foam when rose the Morn With chilly fingers dewing all the skies, That blushed for love and closed their starry eyes. The Naiad saw sweet smiling, in white mist, Half hidden in a bay of amethyst Her polished limbs, and at her hollow ear A shell's pink labyrinth held up to hear Dim echoes of the Siren's haunting strains Emprisoned in its chords of crimson veins. And stealing wily from a grove of pines The Oread in cincture of green vines, One twinkling foot half buried in the red Of a deep dimpled, crumpled poppy bed-- Like to the star of eve, when, lapsing low, Faint clouds that with the sunset colors glow Slip down in scarlet o'er its crystal white, It shining, tear-like, partly veils its light. Her wine-red lips half-parted in surprise, And expectation in her bright blue eyes, While slyly from a young oak coppice peers The wanton Faun with furry, pointed ears. He leaps, she flies as flies the startled nymph When Pan pursues her from her wonted lymph, Diana sees, and on her wooded hills Stays her fair band, the stag hounds' clamor stills. Already nearer glow the Oread's charms; To seize them Faunus strains his hairy arms-- A senseless statue of white, weeping stone Fills his embrace; the Oread is gone. The stag-hounds bay, Dian resumes the chase, While the astonished Faun's bewildered face Paints all his wonderment, and, wondering, He bends above the sculpture of the spring.