But that upon their towering heads they 55 Crying, oft made them raise their flaccid He falls; on me devolve that charge; he falls. 30 Rather than fly him, stoop thou to allure; Nay, journey to his tents. A city stood Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built, Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this ground Perhaps he sees an ample room for war. 35 Persuade him to restore the walls himself In honor of his ancestors, persuadeBut wherefore this advice? young, unespoused, Charoba want persuasions! and a queen!" "O Dalica!" the shuddering maid exclaim'd, 40 Could I encounter that fierce frightful man? Could I speak? no, nor sigh.”—“And 60 65 70 ears And push their heads within their master's hand. There was a brightening paleness in his face, Such as Diana rising o'er the rocks Shower'd on the lonely Latmian; on his brow Sorrow there was, yet nought was there severe. But when the royal damsel first he saw, Faint, hanging on her handmaid, and her knees Tottering, as from the motion of the car, His eyes look'd earnest on her, and those eyes Show'd, if they had not, that they might have, lov'd, For there was pity in them at that hour. He sooth'd her; but lest Pity go beyond He went, nor slumber'd in the sultry noon, And slumber most refreshes; nor at night, When heavy dews are laden with disease; 75 And blindness waits not there for lingering age. Ere morning dawn'd behind him, he arrived At those rich meadows where young Tamar fed The royal flocks entrusted to his care. "Now," said he to himself, "will I re pose 80 At least this burthen on breast." a brother's His brother stood before him: he, amazed, Rear'd suddenly his head, and thus began. "Is it thou, brother! Tamar, is it thou! Why, standing on the valley's utmost verge, 85 Lookest thou on that dull and dreary shore Where beyond sight Nile blackens all the 90 sand? And why that sadness? When I pass'd our sheep The dew-drops were not shaken off the Scatter this wan suffusion o'er thy brow, This faint blue lustre under both thine eyes?" "O brother, is this pity or reproach?" 100 Cried Tamar, "cruel if it be reproach, If pity, O how vain!"-"Whate'er it be That grieves thee, I will pity, thou but speak, And I can tell thee, Tamar, pang for pang." "Gebir! then more than brothers are we now! 105 Everything (take my hand) will I confess. I neither feed the flock nor watch the fold; How can I, lost in love? But, Gebir, why That anger which has risen to your cheek? Can other men? could you? what, no reply! 140 Before I was aware; for with surprise Moments fly rapid as with love itself. Stooping to tune afresh the hoarsen'd reed, I heard a rustling, and where that arose My glance first lighted on her nimble feet. Her feet resembled those long shells1 explored By him who to befriend his steed's dim sight Would blow the pungent powder in the eye. Her eyes too! O immortal Gods! her eyes Ever resemble those? Even her attire 145 Her girdle the dove-color'd wave serene. 110 And still more anger, and still worse con- 150 ceal'd! Are these your promises? your pity this?" Relate me all."-"Then will I all relate, 115 Said the young shepherd, gladden'd from his heart. ""Twas evening, though not sunset, and the tide Level with these green meadows, seem'd yet higher: 'Twas pleasant; and I loosen'd from my neck And with the sailor's hardier race en gage?' I was rejoiced to hear it, and contrived 155 A sheep,' I answered: 'add whate'er you will.' 'I cannot,' she replied, 'make that return: Our hided vessels in their pitchy round Seldom, unless from rapine, hold a sheep. But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue 160 Within, and they that lustre have imbibed In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the RENUNCIATION 1846 Lie, my fond heart at rest, She never can be ours. Why strike upon my breast The slowly passing hours? 5 Ah! breathe not out the name, That fatal folly stay! Conceal the eternal flame, And tortured ne'er betray. YOU SMILED, YOU SPOKE, AND I BELIEVED 1846 You smiled, you spoke, and I believed, SO LATE REMOVED, FROM HIM SHE SWORE 1831 So late removed from him she swore, With clasping arms and vows and tears, In life and death she would adore, While memory, fondness, bliss, endears. 5 Can she forswear? can she forget? Strike, mighty Love! strike, Vengeance! Conscience must come and bring regret- I HELD HER HAND, THE PLEDGE OF BLISS 1831 I held her hand, the pledge of bliss, Her hand that trembled and withdrew; She bent her head before my kissMy heart was sure that hers was true. 5 Now I have told her I must part, She shakes my hand, she bids adieu, Nor shuns the kiss-Alas, my heart! Hers never was the heart for you. ABSENCE 1831 Ianthe! you are call'd to cross the sea:1 A path forbidden me! Remember, while the Sun his blessing sheds Upon the mountain-heads, 5 How often we have watch'd him laying down His brow, and dropp'd our own Against each other's, and how faint and short 1 In 1815, a short time after her marriage with M. de Molandé, Sophia Jane Swift. the Ianthe of these poems, went to live in Paris. Ianthe! nor will rest But on the very thought that swells with pain. O bid me hope again! O give me back what Earth, what (without you) Not Heaven itself can do, 15 One of the golden days that we have past; And let it be my last! Or else the gift would be, however sweet, FLOW, PRECIOUS TEARS! THUS SHALL MY Flow, precious tears! thus shall my rival For me, not him, ye flow. Stay, precious tears! ah, stay! this jealous heart Would bid you flow apart, 5 Lest he should see you rising o'er the brim, And hope you rise for him. Your secret cells, while he is absent, keep, MILD IS THE PARTING YEAR, AND SWEET 1831 Mild is the parting year, and sweet And balmless is its closing day. 5 I wait its close, I court its gloom, PAST RUIN'D ILION HELEN LIVES Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, Alcestis rises from the shades; 5 Soon shall Oblivion's deepening veil HERE EVER SINCE YOU WENT ABROAD Here, ever since you went abroad, |