Give me my woman's form, and place me where he is.120
Stoop, Hermes, let me breathe upon thy brow, And thou shalt see thy sweet nymph even now." The God on half-shut feathers sank serene,
She breath'd upon his eyes, and swift was seen
Of both the guarded nymph near-smiling on the green. It was no dream; or say a dream it was,
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass
Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
One warm, flush'd moment, hovering, it might seem[11]
Dash'd by the wood-nymph's beauty, so he burn'd;130
Then, lighting on the printless verdure, turn'd To the swoon'd serpent, and with languid arm, Delicate, put to proof the lythe Caducean charm. So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent
Full of adoring tears and blandishment,
And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane, Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
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That faints into itself at evening hour:
But the God fostering her chilled hand,140
She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd bland, And, like new flowers at morning song of bees, Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees. Into the green-recessed woods they flew;
Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do. Left to herself, the serpent now began
To change; her elfin blood in madness ran,[12]
Her mouth foam'd, and the grass, therewith besprent, Wither'd at dew so sweet and virulent;
Her eyes in torture fix'd, and anguish drear,150
Hot, glaz'd, and wide, with lid-lashes all sear,
Flash'd phosphor and sharp sparks, without one cooling tear.
The colours all inflam'd throughout her train, She writh'd about, convuls'd with scarlet pain: A deep volcanian yellow took the place
Of all her milder-mooned body's grace; And, as the lava ravishes the mead,
Spoilt all her silver mail, and golden brede;
Made gloom of all her frecklings, streaks and bars,
Eclips'd her crescents, and lick'd up her stars:160
So that, in moments few, she was undrest Of all her sapphires, greens, and amethyst, And rubious-argent: of all these bereft, Nothing but pain and ugliness were left.[13] Still shone her crown; that vanish'd, also she Melted and disappear'd as suddenly;
And in the air, her new voice luting soft, Cried, "Lycius! gentle Lycius!"--Borne aloft With the bright mists about the mountains hoar
These words dissolv'd: Crete's forests heard no more.170
Whither fled Lamia, now a lady bright, A full-born beauty new and exquisite? She fled into that valley they pass o'er
Who go to Corinth from Cenchreas' shore; And rested at the foot of those wild hills, The rugged founts of the Peraean rills,
And of that other ridge whose barren back Stretches, with all its mist and cloudy rack, South-westward to Cleone. There she stood About a young bird's flutter from a wood,180
Fair, on a sloping green of mossy tread,
By a clear pool, wherein she passioned[14] To see herself escap'd from so sore ills, While her robes flaunted with the daffodils. Ah, happy Lycius!--for she was a maid More beautiful than ever twisted braid,
Or sigh'd, or blush'd, or on spring-flowered lea
Spread a green kirtle to the minstrelsy:
A virgin purest lipp'd, yet in the lore
Of love deep learned to the red heart's core:190
Not one hour old, yet of sciential brain
To unperplex bliss from its neighbour pain;
Define their pettish limits, and estrange
Their points of contact, and swift counterchange; Intrigue with the specious chaos, and dispart
Its most ambiguous atoms with sure art;
10
As though in Cupid's college she had spent Sweet days a lovely graduate, still unshent, And kept his rosy terms in idle languishment. [15]
Why this fair creature chose so fairily200
By the wayside to linger, we shall see;
But first 'tis fit to tell how she could muse
And dream, when in the serpent prison-house,
Of all she list, strange or magnificent:
How, ever, where she will'd, her spirit went; Whether to faint Elysium, or where
Down through tress-lifting waves the Nereids fair Wind into Thetis' bower by many a pearly stair; Or where God Bacchus drains his cups divine,
Stretch'd out, at ease, beneath a glutinous pine;210
Or where in Pluto's gardens palatine Mulciber's columns gleam in far piazzian line. And sometimes into cities she would send Her dream, with feast and rioting to blend;
And once, while among mortals dreaming thus, She saw the young Corinthian Lycius
Charioting foremost in the envious race,
Like a young Jove with calm uneager face,[16] And fell into a swooning love of him.
Now on the moth-time of that evening dim220
He would return that way, as well she knew, To Corinth from the shore; for freshly blew The eastern soft wind, and his galley now Grated the quaystones with her brazen prow In port Cenchreas, from Egina isle
Fresh anchor'd; whither he had been awhile
To sacrifice to Jove, whose temple there
Waits with high marble doors for blood and incense rare. Jove heard his vows, and better'd his desire;
For by some freakful chance he made retire230
From his companions, and set forth to walk, Perhaps grown wearied of their Corinth talk: Over the solitary hills he fared,
Thoughtless at first, but ere eve's star appeared
His phantasy was lost, where reason fades,
In the calm'd twilight of Platonic shades.[17] Lamia beheld him coming, near, more near-- Close to her passing, in indifference drear,
His silent sandals swept the mossy green;
So neighbour'd to him, and yet so unseen240
She stood: he pass'd, shut up in mysteries,
His mind wrapp'd like his mantle, while her eyes Follow'd his steps, and her neck regal white Turn'd--syllabling thus, "Ah, Lycius bright,
And will you leave me on the hills alone? Lycius, look back! and be some pity shown." He did; not with cold wonder fearingly,
But Orpheus-like at an Eurydice;
For so delicious were the words she sung,
It seem'd he had lov'd them a whole summer long:250
And soon his eyes had drunk her beauty up, Leaving no drop in the bewildering cup,
And still the cup was full,--while he, afraid
11
Lest she should vanish ere his lip had paid[18] Due adoration, thus began to adore;
Her soft look growing coy, she saw his chain so sure:
"Leave thee alone! Look back! Ah, Goddess, see
Whether my eyes can ever turn from thee! For pity do not this sad heart belie--
Even as thou vanishest so I shall die.260
Stay! though a Naiad of the rivers, stay!