Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still Of winter hoar. Then came another crowd Their share of the ditty. After them appear'd, Their voices to the clouds, a fair-wrought car The freedom of three steeds of dapple brown: Who stood therein did seem of great renown Among the throng. His youth was fully blown, Showing like Ganymede to manhood grown; And, for those simple times, his garments were A chieftain king's; beneath his breast, half bare, Was hung a silver bugle, and between His nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen. But there were some who feelingly could scan And see that oftentimes the reins would slip Through his forgotten hands: then would they sigh, And think of yellow leaves, of owlets' cry, Of logs piled solemnly.-Ah, well-a-day, Soon the assembly, in a circle ranged, Stood silent round the shrine: each look was changed To sudden veneration: women meek Beckon'd their sons to silence; while each cheek Stood, wan, and pale, and with an awed face, Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least, Thus spake he: "Men of Latmos! shepherd bands! Whose care it is to guard a thousand flocks : stirs Blue harebells lightly, and where prickly furze Buds lavish gold; or ye, whose precious charge Nibble their fill at ocean's very marge, Whose mellow reeds are touch'd with sounds for lorn By the dim echoes of old Triton's horn: The scrip, with needments, for the mountain air; Will put choice honey for a favour'd youth: Night-swollen mushrooms? Are not our wide plains Speckled with countless fleeces? Have not rains Green'd over April's lap? No howling sad Thus ending, on the shrine he heap'd a spire Of teeming sweets, enkindling sacred fire; Anon he stain'd the thick and spongy sod With wine, in honour of the shepherd-god. Now while the earth was drinking it, and while Bay leaves were crackling in the fragrant pile, And gummy frankincense was sparkling bright 'Neath smothering parsley, and a hazy light Spread grayly eastward, thus a chorus sang: "O thou, whose mighty palace roof doth hang From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness; Who lovest to see the hamadryads dress Their ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken; And through whole solemn hours dost sit, and hearken The dreary melody of bedded reeds In desolate places, where dank moisture breeds Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx-do thou now, By all the trembling mazes that she ran, "O thou, for whose soul-soothing quiet, turtles Passion their voices cooingly 'mong myrtles, All its completions-be quickly near, By every wind that nods the mountain pine, "Thou, to whom every faun and satyr flies For willing service; whether to surprise The squatted hare while in half-sleeping fit; Or upward ragged precipices flit To save poor lambkins from the eagle's maw; Bewilder'd shepherds to their path again; For thee to tumble into Naiads' cells, "O Hearkener to the loud-clapping shears, While ever and anon to his shorn peers A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn, When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn Anger our huntsman: Breather round our farms, To keep off mildews, and all weather harms : |