And fills each crevice in the world with day.
And changed is Lucy! where the downcast eye,
And the meek fear, when that dark man was by?
Lo! as young Una thrall'd the forest-king,
She leads the savage in her silken string;
Plays with the strength to her in service shown,
And mounts with infant whim the woman's throne!
Charm'd from his lonely moods and brooding mind,
And bound by one to union with his kind,
No more the wild man thirsted for the waste;
No more, 'mid joy, a joyless one, misplaced;
His very form assumed unwonted grace,
And bliss gave more than beauty to his face:
Let but delighted thought from all things cull
Sweet food and fair—hiving the Beautiful,
And lo! the form shall brighten with the soul!
The gods bloom only by joy's nectar bowl.
Nor deem it strange that Lucy fail'd to trace }
In that dark brow, the birthright of disgrace, }
And Europe's ban on Earth's primeval race. }
Were she less pure, less harmless, less the child,
Not on the savage had the soft one smiled.
Ev'n as the young Venetian loved the Moor,
Love gains the shrine when Pity opes the door;
Love like the Poet, whom it teaches, where
Round it the Homely dwells, invents the Fair;
And takes a halo from the air it gilds
To crown a Seraph for the Heaven it builds.
And both were children in this world of ours,
Maiden and savage! the same mountain flowers,
Not trimm'd in gardens, not exchanged their hues,
Fresh from the natural sun and hardy dews,
For the faint fragrance and the sickly dyes
Which, Art calls forth by walling out the skies:
So children both, each seem'd to have forgot How poor the maid's—how rich the lover's lot; Ne'er did the ignorant Indian pause in fear, Lest friends should pity, and lest foes should sneer. "What will the world say?"—question safe and sage; The parrot's world should be his gilded cage; But fly, frank wilding, with free wings unfurl'd, Where thy mate carols—there, behold thy world! And stranger still that no decorous pride Warn'd her, the beggar, from the rich man's side. Sneer, ye world-wise, and deem her ignorance art; She saw her wealth (and blush'd not) in her heart!— Saw through the glare of gold his lonely breast; He had but gold, and hers was all the rest.
Pleased in the bliss to her, alas! denied, }
Calantha hail'd her brother's plighted bride: }
"Glad thou the heart which I made sad," she sigh'd. }
Since Arden's tale, but once the friends had met,
Nor known to one the other's rapture yet;
Some fancied clue, some hope awhile restored,
Had from the Babel lured the brilliant lord.
The wonted commune Morvale fail'd to miss—
We want no confidant in happiness.
Baffled, and sick of hope, wealth, life, and all,
One night return'd the noble to his hall;
He found some lines, stern, brief, in Morvale's hand—
Brief with dark meaning—stern with rude command—
Bidding his instant presence. Arden weigh'd }
Each word; some threat was in each word convey'd; }
A chill shot through his heart—foreboding he obey'd. }
III.
What caused the mandate?—wherefore do I shrink?
The stream runs on—why tarry at the brink?
Nay, let us halt, and in the pause between
Sorrow and joy, behold the quiet scene;—
The chamber stately in that calm repose,
Which Time's serene, sweet conqueror, Art bestows;
There, in bright shapes which claim our homage still,
Live the grand exiles from the Olympian Hill;
Still the pale Queen Cithæron forests know,
Turns the proud eye, and lifts the deathful bow;
Still on the vast brow of the father-god,
Hangs the hush'd thunder of the awful nod;
Still fair, as when on Ida's mountain seen,
By Troy's young shepherd, Beauty's bashful Queen;
Still Ind's divine Iacchus laughing weaves
His crown of clustering grapes and glossy leaves;
Still thou, Arch-type of Song, ordain'd to soothe
The rest of Heroes, and with deathless youth
Crown the Celestial Brotherhood—dost hold,
Brimm'd with the drink of gods, the urn of gold!
All live again! The Art which images
Man's noblest conquest, as it slowly frees
Thought out of matter, labouring patient on,
Till springs a god-world from reluctant stone,
Charm'd Morvale more than all the pomp and glow
With which the Painter limns a world we know.
'Twas noon, and broken by the gentle gloom
Of coolest draperies, through the shadowy room,
In moted shaft aslant, the curious ray
Forced lingering in, through tiers of flowers, its way,
Glanced on the lute (just hush'd, to leave behind
Elysian dreams, the music of the mind),
Play'd round the songstress, and with warmer flush
Steep'd the young cheek, unconscious of its blush,
And fell, as if in worship, at thy base,
O sculptured Psyche[P] of the soul-lit face, Bending to earth resign'd the mournful eye, Since earth must prove the pathway to the sky; Doom'd here, below, Love's footprint to explore } Till Jove relents, the destined wandering o'er, } And in celestial halls, Soul meets with Love once more.[Q] }
And, side by side, the lovers sat—their words
Low mix'd with notes from Lucy's joyous birds,
Sole witnesses and fit—those airy things,
That, 'midst the bars, can still unfold the wings,
And soothe the cell with language, learn'd above;
As the caged bird—so on the earth is love!
Their talk was of the future; from the height
Of Hope, they saw the landscape bathed in light,
And, where the golden dimness veil'd the gaze,
Guess'd out the spot, and mark'd the sites of happy