V.

VENUS CYTHEREA.

1.

TELL me, thou many-finger'd Frost,
Coming and going like a ghost

In leafless woods forsaken

O Frost, that o'er him lying low
Drawest the garment of the snow

From silver cloud-wings shaken,

And round bare boughs with strange device Twinest fantastic leaves of ice

When will Adon waken ?

Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar

Beside Apollo in his car,

And, far below us wreathing,

Thy fogs and mists are duskly curl'd
Round the white silence of the world,
Like to its own deep breathing;

But crimson thro' the mist our light
Foameth and freezeth, till by night

Snow-bosom'd hills we fade on

The pallid god, at my desire,

Gives unto thee a breath of fire

To reach the lips of Adon.

2.

Tell me, thou bare and wintry World, Wherein the winged flowers are curl'd

Like fairies darkly dozing—

O World, within whose lap he lies,
With thy quick earth upon his eyes,

In dim unseen reposing,

Husht underneath the wind and storm,

Still rosy-lipt in darkness warm—

Are Adon's eyes unclosing?

Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar

Beside Apollo in his car,

Keen-pricking as we go by

Sharp tiny rifts in ice and snow

Where ice-drops roll and melting show Shapes for flowers to grow by. Wonderful creatures of the light

Flutter above thee, hanging bright

Faint pictures glen and glade on ;

The pallid god, at my desire,

Hideth in cloudy snows his fire,

To reach the sleep of Adon.

3.

Tell me, thou spirit of the Sun,
Radiant-lock'd and glorious one,

Strong, constant, unforsaking—

Sun, by whose shadier side I sit,
And search thy face, and question it,

`Conferring light and taking—

Thou whose eternal brightness throws

The shadow-hours on his repose,—

Is my Adon waking?

Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar

Beside thee in thy flaming car,

Thou ever-constant comer!

And flashing on the clouds that break
Around our path thy sunbeams make
A phantom of the summer.

O breathe upon the Moon, that she
May use her magic witchery

When snowy hills we fade on,
That, in the dark, when thou art gone,

She speed the resurrection,

And stir the sleep of Adon!

4.

Tell me, O silver-winged Moon,
That glidest to melodious tune

Ice-sparkling pallid skies up,

O Moon, that to the sunset grey,
Drinking faint light that fades away,

Liftest immortal eyes up,

And walking on, art thro' the night

Troubled to pain by that strange light,—

When will Adon rise up?

Lo, dawn by dawn I rise afar

Beside Apollo in his car,

Imploring sign or token;

But night by night such pale peace beams

Upon his slumber, that it seems

Too beauteous to be broken!

O gentle goddess, be not cold—
But, some dim dawn, may wẹ behold

New glory hill and glade on,

The leaves and flowers alive to bliss,

And, somewhat pale with your last kiss,

The smiling face of Adon!