That Spell Affright This Lethargy! I Cannot Quell Its Heavy Pressure, And Will Press At Least My Lips To Thine, That They May Richly Feast Until We Taste The Life Of Love Again. What! Dost Thou Move? Dost Kiss? O Bliss! O Pain! I Love Thee, Youth, More Than I Can Conceive; And So Long Absence From Thee Doth Bereave My Soul Of Any Rest: Yet Must I Hence: Yet, Can I Not To Starry Eminence Uplift Thee; Nor For Very Shame Can Own Myself To Thee. Ah, Dearest, Do Not Groan Or Thou Wilt Force Me From This Secrecy, And I Must Blush In Heaven. O That I Had Done It Already; That The Dreadful Smiles At My Lost Brightness, My Impassion'D Wiles, Had Waned From Olympus' Solemn Height, And From All Serious Gods; That Our Delight Was Quite Forgotten, Save Of Us Alone! And Wherefore So Ashamed? 'Tis But To Atone For Endless Pleasure, By Some Coward Blushes: Yet Must I Be A Coward! Horror Rushes Too Palpable Before Me The Sad Look Of Jove Minerva'S Start No Bosom Shook With Awe Of Purity No Cupid Pinion In Reverence Veiled My Crystaline Dominion Half Lost, And All Old Hymns Made Nullity! But What Is This To Love? O I Could Fly With Thee Into The Ken Of Heavenly Powers, So Thou Wouldst Thus, For Many Sequent Hours, Press Me So Sweetly. Now I Swear At Once That I Am Wise, That Pallas Is A Dunce Perhaps Her Love Like Mine Is But Unknown O I Do Think That I Have Been Alone In Chastity: Yes, Pallas Has Been Sighing, While Every Eve Saw Me My Hair Uptying With Fingers Cool As Aspen Leaves. Sweet Love, I Was As Vague As Solitary Dove, Nor Knew That Nests Were Built. Now A Soft Kiss Aye, By That Kiss, I Vow An Endless Bliss, An Immortality Of Passion'S Thine: Ere Long I Will Exalt Thee To The Shine Of Heaven Ambrosial; And We Will Shade Ourselves Whole Summers By A River Glade; And I Will Tell Thee Stories Of The Sky, And Breathe Thee Whispers Of Its Minstrelsy. My Happy Love Will Overwing All Bounds! O Let Me Melt Into Thee; Let The Sounds Of Our Close Voices Marry At Their Birth; Let Us Entwine Hoveringly O Dearth Of Human Words! Roughness Of Mortal Speech! Lispings Empyrean Will I Sometime Teach Thine Honied Tongue Lute-Breathings, Which I Gasp To Have Thee Understand, Now While I Clasp Thee Thus, And Weep For Fondness I Am Pain'D, Endymion: Woe! Woe! Is Grief Contain'D In The Very Deeps Of Pleasure, My Sole Life?" Hereat, With Many Sobs, Her Gentle Strife Melted Into A Languor. He Return'D Entranced Vows And Tears. Ye Who Have Yearn'D With Too Much Passion, Will Here Stay And Pity, For The Mere Sake Of Truth; As 'Tis A Ditty Not Of These Days, But Long Ago 'Twas Told By A Cavern Wind Unto A Forest Old; And Then The Forest Told It In A Dream To A Sleeping Lake, Whose Cool And Level Gleam A Poet Caught As He Was Journeying To Phoebus' Shrine; And In It He Did Fling His Weary Limbs, Bathing An Hour'S Space, And After, Straight In That Inspired Place He Sang The Story Up Into The Air, Giving It Universal Freedom. There Has It Been Ever Sounding For Those Ears Whose Tips Are Glowing Hot. The Legend Cheers Yon Centinel Stars; And He Who Listens To It Must Surely Be Self-Doomed Or He Will Rue It: For Quenchless Burnings Come Upon The Heart, Made Fiercer By A Fear Lest Any Part Should Be Engulphed In The Eddying Wind. As Much As Here Is Penn'D Doth Always Find A Resting Place, Thus Much Comes Clear And Plain; Anon The Strange Voice Is Upon The Wane And 'Tis But Echo'D From Departing Sound, That The Fair Visitant At Last Unwound Her Gentle Limbs, And Left The Youth Asleep. Thus The Tradition Of The Gusty Deep. Now Turn We To Our Former Chroniclers. Endymion Awoke, That Grief Of Hers Sweet Paining On His Ear: He Sickly Guess'D How Lone He Was Once More, And Sadly Press'D His Empty Arms Together, Hung His Head, And Most Forlorn Upon That Widow'D Bed Sat Silently. Love'S Madness He Had Known: Often With More Than Tortured Lion'S Groan Moanings Had Burst From Him; But Now That Rage Had Pass'D Away: No Longer Did He Wage A Rough-Voic'D War Against The Dooming Stars. No, He Had Felt Too Much For Such Harsh Jars: The Lyre Of His Soul Eolian Tun'D Forgot All Violence, And But Commun'D With Melancholy Thought: O He Had Swoon'D Drunken From Pleasure'S Nipple; And His Love Henceforth Was Dove-Like. Loth Was He To Move From The Imprinted Couch, And When He Did, 'Twas With Slow, Languid Paces, And Face Hid In Muffling Hands. So Temper'D, Out He Stray'D Half Seeing Visions That Might Have Dismay'D Alecto'S Serpents; Ravishments More Keen Than Hermes' Pipe, When Anxious He Did Lean Over Eclipsing Eyes: And At The Last It Was A Sounding Grotto, Vaulted, Vast, O'Er Studded With A Thousand, Thousand Pearls, And Crimson Mouthed Shells With Stubborn Curls, Of Every Shape And Size, Even To The Bulk In Which Whales Arbour Close, To Brood And Sulk Against An Endless Storm. Moreover Too, Fish-Semblances, Of Green And Azure Hue, Ready To Snort Their Streams. In This Cool Wonder Endymion Sat Down, And 'Gan To Ponder On All His Life: His Youth, Up To The Day When 'Mid Acclaim, And Feasts, And Garlands Gay, He Stept Upon His Shepherd Throne: The Look Of His White Palace In Wild Forest Nook, And All The Revels He Had Lorded There: Each Tender Maiden Whom He Once Thought Fair, With Every Friend And Fellow-Woodlander Pass'D Like A Dream Before Him. Then The Spur Of The Old Bards To Mighty Deeds: His Plans To Nurse The Golden Age 'Mong Shepherd Clans: That Wondrous Night: The Great Pan-Festival: His Sister'S Sorrow; And His Wanderings All, Until Into The Earth'S Deep Maw He Rush'D: Then All Its Buried Magic, Till It Flush'D High With Excessive Love. "And Now," Thought He, "How Long Must I Remain In Jeopardy Of Blank Amazements That Amaze No More? Now I Have Tasted Her Sweet Soul To The Core All Other Depths Are Shallow: Essences, Once Spiritual, Are Like Muddy Lees, Meant But To Fertilize My Earthly Root, And Make My Branches Lift A Golden Fruit Into The Bloom Of Heaven: Other Light, Though It Be Quick And Sharp Enough To Blight The Olympian Eagle'S Vision, Is Dark, Dark As The Parentage Of Chaos. Hark! My Silent Thoughts Are Echoing From These Shells; Or They Are But The Ghosts, The Dying Swells Of Noises Far Away? List!" Hereupon He Kept An Anxious Ear. The Humming Tone Came Louder, And Behold, There As He Lay, On Either Side Outgush'D, With Misty Spray, A Copious Spring; And Both Together Dash'D Swift, Mad, Fantastic Round The Rocks, And Lash'D Among The Conchs And Shells Of The Lofty Grot, Leaving A Trickling Dew. At Last They Shot Down From The Ceiling'S Height, Pouring A Noise As Of Some Breathless Racers Whose Hopes Poize Upon The Last Few Steps, And With Spent Force Along The Ground They Took A Winding Course. Endymion Follow'D For It Seem'D That One Ever Pursued, The Other Strove To Shun Follow'D Their Languid Mazes, Till Well Nigh He Had Left Thinking Of The Mystery, And Was Now Rapt In Tender Hoverings Over The Vanish'D Bliss. Ah! What Is It Sings His Dream Away? What Melodies Are These? They Sound As Through The Whispering Of Trees, Not Native In Such Barren Vaults. Give Ear! "O Arethusa, Peerless Nymph! Why Fear Such Tenderness As Mine? Great Dian, Why, Why Didst Thou Hear Her Prayer? O That I Were Rippling Round Her Dainty Fairness Now, Circling About Her Waist, And Striving How To Entice Her To A Dive! Then Stealing In Between Her Luscious Lips And Eyelids Thin. O That Her Shining Hair Was In The Sun, And I Distilling From It Thence To Run In Amorous Rillets Down Her Shrinking Form! To Linger On Her Lily Shoulders, Warm Between Her Kissing Breasts, And Every Charm Touch Raptur'D! See How Painfully I Flow: Fair Maid, Be Pitiful To My Great Woe. Stay, Stay Thy Weary Course, And Let Me Lead, A Happy Wooer, To The Flowery Mead Where All That Beauty Snar'D Me." "Cruel God, Desist! Or My Offended Mistress' Nod Will Stagnate All Thy Fountains: Tease Me Not With Syren Words Ah, Have I Really Got Such Power To Madden Thee? And Is It True Away, Away, Or I Shall Dearly Rue My Very Thoughts: In Mercy Then Away, Kindest Alpheus For Should I Obey My Own Dear Will, 'Twould Be A Deadly Bane." "O, Oread-Queen! Would That Thou Hadst A Pain Like This Of Mine, Then Would I Fearless Turn And Be A Criminal." "Alas, I Burn, I Shudder Gentle River, Get Thee Hence. Alpheus! Thou Enchanter! Every Sense Of Mine Was Once Made Perfect In These Woods. Fresh Breezes, Bowery Lawns, And Innocent Floods, Ripe Fruits, And Lonely Couch, Contentment Gave; But Ever Since I Heedlessly Did Lave In Thy Deceitful Stream, A Panting Glow Grew Strong Within Me: Wherefore Serve Me So, And Call It Love? Alas, 'Twas Cruelty. Not Once More Did I Close My Happy Eyes Amid The Thrush'S Song. Away! Avaunt! O 'Twas A Cruel Thing." "Now Thou Dost Taunt So Softly, Arethusa, That I Think If Thou Wast Playing On My Shady Brink, Thou Wouldst Bathe Once Again. Innocent Maid! Stifle Thine Heart No More; Nor Be Afraid Of Angry Powers: There Are Deities Will Shade Us With Their Wings. Those Fitful Sighs 'Tis Almost Death To Hear: O Let Me Pour A Dewy Balm Upon Them! Fear No More, Sweet Arethusa! Dian'S Self Must Feel Sometimes These Very Pangs. Dear Maiden, Steal Blushing Into My Soul, And Let Us Fly These Dreary Caverns For The Open Sky. I Will Delight Thee All My Winding Course, From The Green Sea Up To My Hidden Source About Arcadian Forests; And Will Shew The Channels Where My Coolest Waters Flow Through Mossy Rocks; Where, 'Mid Exuberant Green, I Roam In Pleasant Darkness, More Unseen Than Saturn In His Exile; Where I Brim Round Flowery Islands, And Take Thence A Skim Of Mealy Sweets, Which Myriads Of Bees Buzz From Their Honied Wings: And Thou Shouldst Please Thyself To Choose The Richest, Where We Might Be Incense-Pillow'D Every Summer Night. Doff All Sad Fears, Thou White Deliciousness, And Let Us Be Thus Comforted; Unless Thou Couldst Rejoice To See My Hopeless Stream Hurry Distracted From Sol'S Temperate Beam, And Pour To Death Along Some Hungry Sands." "What Can I Do, Alpheus? Dian Stands Severe Before Me: Persecuting Fate! Unhappy Arethusa! Thou Wast Late A Huntress Free In" At This, Sudden Fell Those Two Sad Streams Adown A Fearful Dell. The Latmian Listen'D, But He Heard No More, Save Echo, Faint Repeating O'Er And O'Er The Name Of Arethusa. On The Verge Of That Dark Gulph He Wept, And Said: "I Urge Thee, Gentle Goddess Of My Pilgrimage, By Our Eternal Hopes, To Soothe, To Assuage, If Thou Art Powerful, These Lovers Pains; And Make Them Happy In Some Happy Plains. He Turn'D There Was A Whelming Sound He Stept, There Was A Cooler Light; And So He Kept Towards It By A Sandy Path, And Lo! More Suddenly Than Doth A Moment Go, The Visions Of The Earth Were Gone And Fled He Saw The Giant Sea Above His Head.