This, rapt, with beating heart, she heeds And follows, "Sweet love, my heart bleeds!

Come, stay the wound thyself didst give"; Then he, "I come to bid thee live."

And so they carol, and her heart Swells to believe his counterpart, And strophe striketh clear, which he Caps with his brave antistrophe; And as a maiden waxes bold, And opens what should not be told When all her auditory she sees Within her mirror, so to trees And rocks, and sullen sounding main She empties all her pa.s.sioned pain; And "love, love, love," her burden is, And "I am starving for thee," his.

Moved, melted, all on fire she stands, Holding abroad her quivering hands, Raises her sweet eyes faint with tears And dares to seek him whom she hears; And from her parted lips a sigh Stealeth, as knowing he is nigh And her fate on her--then she'd shun That which she seeks; but the thing's done.

Hollow-voiced, dim, spake her a shade, "O thou that comest, nymph or maid-- If nymph, then maiden, since for aye Virgin is immortality, Nor love can change what Death cannot-- Look on me by love new-begot; Look on me, child new-born, nor start To see my form who knowest my heart; For it is thine. O Mother and Wife, Take then my love--thou gavest it life!"

So spake one close: to whom she lent The wonder of her eyes' content-- That lucent gray, as if moonlight Shone through a sapphire in the night-- And saw him faintly imaged, rare As wisp of cloud on hillside bare, A filamental form, a wraith Shaped like that man who in the faith Of one puts all his hope: who stood Trembling in her near neighbourhood, A thing of haunted eyes, of slim And youthful seeming; yet not dim, Yet not unmanly in his fashion Of speech, nor impotent of pa.s.sion-- The which his tones gave earnest of And his aspect of hopeless love; Who, drawing nearer, came to stand So close beside her that one hand Lit on her shoulder--yet no touch She felt: "O maiden overmuch,"

He grieved, "O body far too sweet For such as I, frail counterfeit Of man, who yet was once a man, Cut off before the midmost span Of mortal life was but half run, Or ere to love he had found one Like thee--yet happy in that fate, That waiting, he is fortunate: For better far in h.e.l.l to fare With thee than commerce otherwhere, Sharing the snug and fat outlook Of bed and board and ingle-nook With earth-bound woman, earth-born child.

Nay, but high love is free and wild And centreth not in mortal things; But to the soul giveth he wings, And with the soul strikes partnership, So may two let corruption slip And breasting level, with far eyes Lifted, seek haven in the skies, Untrammel'd by the earthly mesh.

O thou," said he, "of fairy flesh, Immortal prisoner, take of me Love! 'tis my heritage in fee; For I am very part thereof, And share the G.o.dhead."

So his love Pled he with tones in love well-skilled Which on her bosom beat and thrilled, And pierced. No word nor look she had To voice her heart, or sad or glad.

Rapt stood she, wooed by eager word And by her need, whose cry she heard Above his crying; but she guessed She was desired, beset, possessed Already, handfasted to sight, And yielding so, her heart she plight.

Thus was her mating: of the eyes And ears, and her love half surmise, Detected by her burning face Which saw, not felt, his fierce embrace.

For on her own she knew no hand When caging it he seemed to stand, And round her waist felt not the warm Sheltered peace of the belting arm She saw him clasp withal. When rained His words upon her, or eyes strained As though her inmost shrine to pierce Where hid her heart of hearts, her ears Conceived, although her body sweet Might never feel a young life beat And leap within it. Ah, what cry That mistress e'er heard poet sigh Could voice thy beauty? Or what chant Of music be thy ministrant?

Since thou art Music, poesy Must both thy spouse and increase be!

In the hot dust, where lizards crouch And pant, he made her bridal couch; Thither down drew her to his side And, phantom, taught her to be bride With words so ardent, looks so hot She needs must feel what she had not, Guess herself in beleaguered bed And throb response. Thus she was wed.

As she whom Zeus loved in a cloud, So lay she in her lover's shroud, And o'er her members crept the chill We know when mist creeps up a hill Out of the vale at eve. As grows The ivy, rooting as it goes, In such a quick close envelope She lay aswoon, nor guessed the scope Nor tether of his hot intent, Nor what to that inert she lent, Save when at last with half-turned head And glimmering eyes, encompa.s.sed She saw herself, a bride possest By ghostly bridegroom, held and prest To unfelt bosom, saw his mouth Against her own, which to his drouth Gave no allay that she could sense, Nor took of her sweet recompense.

So moved by pity, stirred by rue, Out of their onslaught young love grew.

Love that with delicate tongues of fire Can kindle hearts inflamed desire In her for him who needed it; And so she claimed and by eyes' wit Had what she would: and now made war, Being, as all sweet women are, Prudes till Love calls them, and then fierce In love's high calling. Thus with her ears She fed on love, and to her eyes Lent deeds of pa.s.sionate emprise-- Till at the last, the shadowy strife Ended, she owned herself all wife.

High mating of the mind! O love, Since this must be, on this she throve!

Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle, Since this must be, O love, let be!

_1911._

OREITHYIA

Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried To stormy Thrace from Athens where you tarried Down by Ilissus all a blowy day Among the asphodels, how rapt away Thither, and in what frozen bed wert married?

"I was a King's tall daughter still unwed, Slim and desirable my locks to shed Free from the fillet. He my maiden belt Undid with busy fingers hid but felt, And made me wife upon no marriage bed.

"As idly there I lay alone he came And blew upon my side, and beat a flame Into my cheeks, and kindled both my eyes.

I suffered him who took no bodily guise: The light clouds know whether I was to blame.

"Into my mouth he blew an amorous breath; I panted, but lay still, as quiet as death.

The whispering planes and sighing gra.s.ses know Whether it was the wind that loved me so: I know not--only this, 'O love,' he saith,

"'O long beset with love, and overloved, O easy saint, untempted and unproved, O walking stilly virgin ways in hiding, Come out, thou art too choice for such abiding!

She never valued ease who never roved.

"'Thou mayst not see thy lover, but he now Is here, and claimeth thy low moonlit brow, Thy wonderful eyes, and lips that part and pout, And polished throat that like a flower shoots out From thy dark vesture folded and crossed low.'

"With that he had his way and went his way; For G.o.ds have mastery, and a maiden's nay Grows faint ere it is whispered all. I sped Homeward with startled face and tiptoe tread, And up the stair, and in my chamber lay.

"Crouching I lay and quaked, and heard the wind Wail round the house like a mad thing confined, And had no rest; turn wheresoe'er I would This urgent lover stormed my solitude And beat against the haven of my mind.

"And over all a clamour and dis-ease Filled earth and air, and shuddered in my knees So that I could not stand, but by the wall Leaned pitifully breathing. Still his call Volleyed against the house and tore the trees.

"Then out my turret-window as I might I leaned my body to the blind wet night; That eager lover leapt me, circled round, Wreathed, folded, held me prisoner, wrapt and bound In manacles of terror and delight.

"That night he sealed me to him, and I went Thenceforth his leman, submiss and content; So from the hall and feast, whenas I heard His clear voice call, I flitted like a bird That beats the brake, and garnered what he lent.

"I was no maid that was no wife; my days Went by in dreams whose lights are golden haze And skies are crimson. Laughing not, nor crying, I strayed all witless with my loose hair flying, Bearing that load that women think their praise.

"And felt my b.r.e.a.s.t.s grow heavy with that food That women laugh to feel and think it good; But I went shamefast, hanging down my head, With girdle all too strait to serve my stead, And bore an unguessed burden in my blood.

"There was a winter night he came again And shook the window, till cried out my pain Unto him, saying, 'Lord, I dare not live!

Lord, I must die of that which thou didst give!

Pity me, Lord!' and fell. The winter rain

"Beat at the cas.e.m.e.nt, burst it, and the wind Filled all the room, and swept me white and blind Into the night. I heard the sound of seas Beleaguer earth, I heard the roaring trees Singing together. We left them far behind.

"And so he bore me into stormy Thrace, Me and my load, and kissed back to my face The sweet new blood of youth, and to my limbs The wine of life; and there I bore him twins, Zethes and Calas, in a rock-bound place."

Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried To stormy Thrace, think you of how you tarried And let him woo and wed? "Ah, no, for now He's kissed all Athens from my open brow.

I am the Wind's wife, wooed and won and married."

_1897._

CLYTIe

Hearken, O pa.s.sers, what thing Fortuned in h.e.l.las. A maid, Lissom and white as the roe, Lived recess'd in a glade.

Clytie, Hamadryad, She was called that I sing-- Flower so fair, so frail, that to bring her a woe, Surely a pitiful thing!

A wild bright creature of trees, Brooks, and the sun among leaves, Clytie, grown to be maid: Ah, she had eyes like the sea's Iris of green and blue!

White as sea-foam her brows, And her hair reedy and gold: So she grew and waxt supple and fit to be spouse In a king's palace of old.

All in a kirtle of green, With her tangle of red-gold hair, In the live heart of an oak, Clytie, harbouring there, Throned there as a queen, Clytie wondering woke: Ah, child, what set thee too high for thy sweet demesne, And who ponder'd the doleful stroke?

For the child that was maiden grown, The queen of the forest places, Clytie, Hamadryad, Tired of the joy she had, And the kingdom that was her own; And tired of the quick wood-races, And joy of herself in the pool when she wonder'd down, And tired of her budded graces.

And the child lookt up to the Sun And the burning track of his car In the broad serene above her: "O King Sun, be thou my lover, For my beauty is just begun.

I am fresh and fair as a star; Come, lie where the lilies are: Behold, I am fair and dainty and white all over, And I waste in the wood unknown!"

Rose-flusht, daring, she strain'd Her young arms up, and she voiced The wild desire of her heart.

The woodland heard her, the faun, The satyr, and things that start, Peering, heard her; the dove, crooning, complain'd In the pine-tree by the lawn.

Only the runnel rejoiced In his rushy hollow apart To see her beauty flash up White and red as the dawn.

Sorrow, ye pa.s.sers-by, The quick lift of her word, The crimson blush of her pride!