She woke the babble of the stream She whispered, with a stifled moan VI. And, rising, from her bosom drew "O cruel heart," she changed her tone, To live forgotten, and die forlorn!" VII. But sometimes in the falling day "But thou shalt be alone no more." And flaming downward over all From heat to heat the day decreased, The one black shadow from the wall. "The day to night," she made her moan, And day and night I am left alone, VIII. At eve a dry cicala sung, There came a sound as of the sea; Large Hesper glittered on her tears, And weeping then she made her moan, ELEANORE. THY dark eyes opened not, Nor first revealed themselves to English air, Which, from the outward to the inward brought, Far off from human neighborhood, Thou wert born, on a summer morn, A mile beneath the cedar-wood. Thy bounteous forehead was not fanned With breezes from our oaken glades, But thou wert nursed in some delicious land Of lavish lights, and floating shades : And flattering thy childish thought The oriental fairy brought, At the moment of thy birth, From old well-heads of haunted rills, And the hearts of purple hills, And shadowed coves on a sunny shore, The choicest wealth of all the earth, Jewel or shell, or starry ore, To deck thy cradle, Eleänore. Or the yellow-banded bees, Fed thee, a child, lying alone, With whitest honey in fairy gardens culled A glorious child, dreaming alone, In silk-soft folds, upon yielding down, With the hum of swarming bees Into dreamful slumber lulled. Who may minister to thee? To thee, with fruitage golden-rinded Grape-thickened from the light, and blinded Sleepeth over all the heaven, And the crag that fronts the Even, Crimsons over an inland mere, Eleanore! How may full-sailed verse express, Of thy swan-like stateliness, The luxuriant symmetry Every turn and glance of thine, Eleänore, And the steady sunset glow, That stays upon thee? For in thee From one censer, in one shrine, To an unheard melody, Which lives about thee, and a sweep I stand before thee, Eleänore; I see thy beauty gradually unfold, Slowly, as from a cloud of gold, The languors of thy love-deep eyes Float on to me. I would I were So tranced, so rapt in ecstasies, To stand apart, and to adore, Gazing on thee for evermore, Serene, imperial Eleänore! Sometimes, with most intensity Thought folded over thought, smiling asleep, But am as nothing in its light: As though a star, in inmost heaven set, Should slowly round his orb, and slowly grow To a full face, there like a sun remain Fixed-then as slowly fade again, As thunderclouds that, hung on high, Roofed the world with doubt and fear, In thee all passion becomes passionless, And luxury of contemplation: As waves that up a quiet cove Shadow forth the banks at will; But when I see thee roam, with tresses unconfined, Breathes low between the sunset and the moon ; On silken cushions half reclined; I watch thy grace; and in its place |