)i>^A:sfPflliil,- ii I i II 1 1 ii; I mtji/tK^ifjimiffgim ilw'iw « ■•'i^t'tlK^'tli' ;;liliii 'mm' m ■i m^ .m WMM§ \i' a- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES c "fff* Presented bv LADY CHAPMAN ^'. -^ ^-f-C^t^^^i^. \ f \ v^\ \\^^4/-J/\^ (Ay POEMS POEMS CHIEFLY DRAMATIC EDITED BY THOMAS HILL-LOWE DEAN OF EXETER ALDI LONDON WILLIAM PICKERING 1840 CHISWICK: PniNTED BY C. WHIITINGHAM, ins- Having taken on myself the office of editing the following poems, I feel that some apology may be expected for their imperfections. The work of a young and inexperienced writer who has not yet learnt the necessity or the art of revision, they might naturally require the correction of a cooler judgment ; but had I leisure for such a task (as assuredly I have not), I should not willingly attempt verbal improvement at the risk of injuring their freshness and originality of thought. In their present state it appears to me that they exhibit powers of fancy and versi- fication, joined to just and elevated senti- ments, which may render them not unaccept- able to the public, even in an age when poetry seems to have fallen into universal neglect. T. H. L. Exeter, March 23, 1840. 81 669-3 CONTENTS. Page CtPHALrs and Procris. A Lyrical Drama .... 1 J oaa of Arc in Prison. A Dramatic Poem .... OS An Evening Ode 119 A Midnight Ode 124 Death of Montreal 1 27 Similitudes. The Garden of Aladdin 133 The Divining Rod 1S3 The Vallisneria 134 Lament of Lady Arabella Stuart, at Sea 13.^ CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. A LYRICAL DRAMA. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Procris. EUCLEA. Cephalus. Aurora. Sorceress. Satyr. Hamadryad. Zephyr. Chorus of Nymphs — Hours. Scene in the Island of Eubosa. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. ACT I. Chorus of Nymphs returned from Hunting. We roused the wild boar in forest deep, And over the mountains bare and steep We woke the echoes at dewy morn, With cry of hounds and the cheerful horn. Rejoice, rejoice, for victory won ! Our foe is fallen, our chase is done. Diana, hail ! to thee we raise The joyful shout, the hymn of praise. O never from this favored isle, Fair huntress-queen, withdraw thy smile. Not for Ida's wooded brow, Nor Cithaeron's hill of snow ; Nor Cynthus' sea-o'ershadowing height. Where palm and laurel-boughs unite, Twin emblems of the birth divine — To decorate thy spotless shrine. In vain thy steps invite Heaven-loved Taygeta and Eurotas' shore. These hills and fertile valleys please thee more. O hither, from Anaurus' rocky stream. Guide o'er our plains thy golden-antlered team. 4 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. Daughter of Jove, to thee belong This garland and triumphal song ! When held at bay the bristling boar, His tusks bedropt with foam and gore, His red eye kindling sparks of fire — Ah ! who might face his dreadful ire ? Harmless the glancing javelin flies, The brave hound torn and gasping lies — But see, the monster reels — he dies ! The fatal stroke hath reached his heart ; Thy gift, that never-failing dart, With triumph crowns the chosen one, Newly to thy service won ; The fair-tressed maiden, with her deep blue eye, Darkly bright as midnight's starry sky. Whence might the lovely stranger come, Leaving her dear paternal home, Mid far Euboea's wilds to roam ? Her race renowned breathe purest air In yon happy regions, where, If truly ancient legends tell — With gfolden-haired Harmonia dwell The Heliconian virgins nine, Framers of the song divine ; There, from Cephisus stream fair-flowing Venus quaff"s (so poets sing). And o'er the land soft gales bestowing. Balmy influence doth fling ; Her wavy locks with roses wreathing, Soul-entrancing odours breathing ; CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 5 Graces and Loves around her sport, That aye with wisdom best consort, To all virtues' high endeavour Noblest aid affording ever. Yet even there might cares invade, And bitter anguish grow, To pierce the heart, the brow o'ershade With life-consuming woe. She fled from disappointment's sting. Or secret wrongs the breast that wring. Where none her griefs may know. O, soon may peace with healing smile Her bleeding spirit's pangs beguile, And young-eyed pleasure glow ! And thou, O guardian goddess, heavenly maid. Our choral lays accept, still grant thy sovereign aid ! Scene I. A scattered Grove. Procris and Euclea. PROCRIS. Welcome, these woodland shades ; from noon- tide glare, How sweetly do their feathered choristers Invite our steps to shelter and repose. EUCLEA. Here let us rest, where spreading laurels crown The thyme-besprinklod bank, from heat secure. Cool breezes wander through the verdurous screen Of vine and sweet-brier interlaced, where yet Lingers the dew of dawn, and here and there G CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. I The intruding sun a golden network flings Upon the chequered turf; while gushing bright Below, the fresh stredm leaps with gladdening sound. r^ii I Thine were the honours of this morning's chase, The triumph and the spoil ; yet art thou sad — O'erspent and faint with unaccustomed toil ; Or, mid our green abodes and quiet glades, Dost thou regret Athena's far-famed towers, And royal state ? PROCRIS. No, not my father's halls, Nor the' olive grove where cool llissus glides. My sighs awaken — vacant now and drear Youth's loved resorts ; but with their memory Wan phantoms of sepulchred joys arise, And unconjured woes, that thus constrain My darkened thoughts to cast a languisht hue On mirth they never more may share. For me. The smile hath faded from earth's altered brow. EUCLEA. Alas ! that sorrow should usurp such power, Sole durable below. Clouds come and go. Morn follows night, and sunshine after I'ain, And can it be, that no succeeding sun May cheer the heart once wrapt in timeless gloom? PROCRIS. To you, thrice happy children of these shades, Grief must seem strange, and passion like some tale Of other times, to wonder at securely. So tranquilly glide past the sunny hours CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 7 On downy wings, unruffled by a storm, Soothing the heart laid waste and desolate, Even to forgetfulness — I feel like one, Escaped from conflict late, with opiates lulled, Who dreaming walks in bliss ; yet ever bears The faint dull anguish of the unconscious wound. EUCLEA. Time and medicinal balms worst wounds may heal. And know, dear Procris, that our huntress queen All care and dark annov forbids to lurk Within the sacred cincture of this isle ; The life-dispensing gales from hill or sea Waft health and freedom on their course, that drives Afar pale sloth, with pining discontent. The nurse of many an ill. At blush of morn, Roused by the early lark, while scarce the sun Tinges the tall tree-tops, o'er dewy grass, Thro' the long level shadows we pursue In forest, or on plain, or upland steep. The ardent chase untired. In leafy bowers All thro' the summer night we sweetly sleep. Cradled 'mong blossoms, hushed by whispering sounds, Like spirit-voices mingling in mid air. And when the sullen blasts of winter howl, In moss-lined cave, warmed by the fragrant pine. At loom or distaff set, our pleasant toil. Or weaving prey-ensnaring nets, we pass The brief not gloomy hours, full well beguiled With song and gay discourse, or ancient lore. 8 CEPHALUS AND PROCIIIS. Thus do the various seasons, as they roll, Lead on a circle j ust of meet employ, Joys ever new, and peace that knows no change. For neither sordid gain, nor treacherous love, Nor the worse demon of domestic strife. Their consort close and foe — dare once disturb Our blithe content. PROCRIS. Must love abjured be ? Here, where dull-thoughted care and turmoil rude No entrance find, and bounteous Nature smiles. How blest would be his reign, serene and pure. Here, where all things his wondrous power declare — From tree, and flower, and fount, seems menace breathed To rebel pride. The laurel overhead. Whose unblenched verdure still resisteth well Far-darting Phoebus, warns from Daphne's scorn ; And tremulous reeds, that sigh along the brook. Tell to each vagrant wind poor Syrinx' story. EUCLEA. Therefore we banish him ; for all the ill These witness he hath done. Not me with dread Inspire these everlasting monuments Of chaste renown. They are not dead, — they lie On earth's green bosom, lovely and beloved ; The vernal gales, the dews of heaven renew Their ever-flourishing youth, imbued with grace Of harmony or fragrance. I gaze on them. And feel my bosom glow with higher faith. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 9 To spurn the boy-god's frivolous snare — ensured Against the worst rage of brute-semblant man. PROCRIS. O peace, my Euclea ! fearest thou not to rouse Their vengeance whom thou rashly dost contemn ? Venus endures no slight; and I have heard Of frenzies fearful, irresistible, The ministers of her wrath. EUCLEA. Justice avert That ever I accuse the powers divine, Or meditate unawed their mysteries. I somewhat dread — yet steadfastly conclude No evil influences can touch the soul. Not first by wilful negligence laid bare. Or pride unseemly. Heaven's favours wait On the pure will, like winged handmaidens, Arraying it in strength. From human lips This counsel sprang not — thou hast heard, my sire From an immortal mother drew his birth — Acasta, daughter of Oceanus ; Who, in a cavern by the observant deep, Nursed him with honev and the golden fruit Hesperian gardens yield, and as he grew, His mind with heavenly wisdom stored ; but she, When the new race of Jove reigned prevalent Over mid sky, and the time-honoured sons Of Titan fell, his sovereign anger dared. Leaving her coral halls beneath the waves, To visit with her sister train, and soothe 10 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. The afflictions of Prometheus wise, stretched out And tortured on far Scythia's iron rock. Therefore the Thunderer hurled her down, forbade To breathe henceforth the upper air. But still Her holy precepts in our memories glow. By these instructed, I have learned to shun Each passion's fierce extreme ; to reverence The givers of all earthly good, but pray Only for innocence, for health, and peace. PROCRIS. Priceless the knowledge evil to avoid, And choose the golden mean, while yet untaught By harsh experience, even of others' woe. Hark, how lamenting from yon beechen copse, The nightingale her lonely descant pours, Remembering too well my race's wrongs ! I saw Pandion's hoary locks brought low With anguish for his hapless children's doom. And still, at noon, or eve, or midnight dim. Those plaintive notes bring back thro' time's eclipse The image of his age's agony. And grief-raised tomb. EUCLEA. Cruel their destiny ; But oh ! believe that now they mourn no more. No more of sorrow Philomela sings Throughout sweet summer hours, the woods among, From life's racked fever free ; but tenderness And rapture tune her throat, plunging at will Mid multitudinous boughs and shadows green. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 11 Thou too shalt smile, and join our carols gay, Past ills forgotten quite. But I must hence, And gather from the meads, my promised task, Deep-glowing roses, lilies fair and wan. Narcissus, stooping o'er the glassy stream, The dark-tressed hyacinth, and fragrant pink, To form a garland for our shepherd train, Who to the bounteous river-god, at eve, Would dedicate a votive coronal. For plenty's blessings on their pastures showered. Say, wilt thou join us at the fountain-head, Ere seeks the travelled bee her waxen cell, Or sleepy flowers shut up their tearful eyes? PROCRIS. No, not to-night, — bear with me, kindest maid ; I cannot come. EUCLEA. Ev'n as thou wilt ; farewell. PROCRIS (alone). 'Tis vain — I have no portion in their mirth, Nor in my desolation they. All things That frame their happiness, but feed ray woes,— The murmuring rivulet, the sighing breeze. The rustling leaf, the song of sweetest birds, And insect hum — repeat : Jhr ever gone /— The chords responsive, here. «J2yl^ss^I moye, f A bre athing c enotaph of one wi_thout A grave ; — alive, perchance, though dead to me, O Cephalus, where art thou ? wherefore thus Hast thou forsaken me and left forlorn ? 12 CEPIIALUS AND PROCRIS. 1 have sought for thee wherever foot of man Hath trod, and wildly rent the desert air, While Echo idly mocked my call for thee. Wood-nymphs have heard the voice of my lament. But knew not of thy doom, and naiads cold Say that no tidings reached their crystal cells When thou didst vanish from the world, and left No trace behind. On earth my search is vain. — Might I explore the fearful realms below. Where Pluto holds his reign o'er shadows wan ! If thou wert there — .but ah ! what tongue might dare Invoke the secrets of hell's dark abyss ? It may be done ; for yestermorn I met One whose dread spells control the wandering moon. And phantoms start to hear, on Acheron's shore. She came from Thessaly, and therefore first I lent attentive ear to her discourse. That with memorial of my husband's home And lineage was enriched. Then did she speak Mysteriously of aid, I fear, unhallowed, Though to an hallowed end ; and bade me seek At noon of night, alone and unrevealed. Her gloomy cavern in the forests' depths. What sights, what sounds beneath its horrid brow My spirit may appal ? I will not shrink, But love-directed, and love-sanctioned go, And learn whatever, guiltless, I may know. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 13 Scene II. TJie Palace of Aurora. CEPHALUS. Sleep, how hath thy pleasing magic rapt My senses in brief transport ! blest art thou, Borne on whose airy pinion I have traced. Once more, familiar scenes. Sweet accents dear Fell once more on mine ear, and over me, Methought, there leaned the lovely well-known form ; But oh ! how swift it melted from my sight, And all the fond illusion passed away, A pageant of desire. Only in dreams 1 breathe a conscious life — awake, my nature Seems strange unto itself, where it not finds Affinity without. Resplendent courts, Ye fanes and temples of pure light eterne, Spurn not your pavements, star-inlaid, the worm Whose gross mortality of clay profanes Your air-wove sanctuary ? How beautiful Ye rise, in glory unimaginable ! Pillars and long arcades and stately domes, Each part like molten gold, or lucid pearl, Needing no outward ray ; but all informed As with interior light, mild splendour shed, Shadeless yet soft. The ambrosial atmosphere, Bound by no azure vault, fades far above. Translucent amber, whither fancy soars. Till lost and in infinity absorbed. But here, where gods might dwell in bliss, I feel My being hath no part — nay, less than man, 14 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. From freedom, dutv, and affection severed, I waste in sloth, an alien and a slave. Enter Aurora. Over the wide empyreal plain My milk-white steeds, with flowing mane, Swiftly my spangled chariot drew, Scattering roses as they flew ; Yet chiding their perverse delay, Tedious I deemed the accustomed way ; And now my task completed, I am come To greet thee, mortal, in thy new-won home ; But gloom sits on thy brow and late regret — ■- How hast thou lonely mused since last we met? I bade the obsequious Hours thy path attend, And fresh delights with every moment blend, — Show where th' unfading purple flowers of morn Lie richly heaped in many a fragrant urn. And fountains, from whose never-failing store O'er earth and sky reviving dews I pour. These thou regardest not — then follow me, And I will bring thee where the sisters three. Star-vestured, weave the web of destiny, While the celestial spheres sing to their toil, And half the sternness of their looks beguile. With sweet enfolded harmony ; Such as earth-fostered thought or vision ne'er Might compass, thou, of men, alone shalt hear. CEPHALUS. Most glorious of Heaven's offspring, brightest queen I Ah ! wherefore wouldst thou lavish on my head CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 15 Favours unmerited ? It is unmeet That one of perishable mould presume On Fate's dread mysteries to gaze. AURORA. But I Have privilege to stay the darts of Death, And to etherial essence turn the tide Corruptible in thy veins ; so great my love. Then do not thou, beloved, reject the boons, It fain would shower unmeasured, unrequited ; But by thy free acceptance overpaid. CEPHALUS. Nor this do I desire : — to drag through time Interminable life, inglorious. My station would not be among the gods, Nor yet with men who have attained the crown Of immortality by loftiest deeds. First suffer, great Aurora, my descent Once more to native earth ; so might I seek By toils and high endeavour, from renown, (Not as the minion of brief fantasy), My title to the skies ; else, unrepining, To mix with kindred dust in last repose. AURORA. Too long have I, degenerate, sealed mine eyes Against these signs of thy injurious scorn ! No love of virtuous fame, nor to be called A benefactor of thy race, inflames Thy spirit false, whose base affections cling To old delights ; and for a thing of dust Doth spurn and sicken at celestial bliss. 16 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. CEPHALUS. Pardon my madness — deem it not a crime If even here my heart the' impress retains Of human vows and hallowed ties below. Could I forget, and all my senses bathe In nectared ease and joy, sure, to the throne Of highest Jove ascending, tears and sighs From my deserted love would pierce his ear, And call down vengeance on the perjurer's head. Thou hast exalted me to higher spheres, And torn me from the sight of former treasures ; But none may sever faith's enduring bond. AURORA. Cease thy complaints, ingrate, thou shalt return To thy loved Procris, — soon, or I mistake, To rue this parting, and thy credulous trust. CEPHALUS. Be not offended, goddess ! AURORA. Fear thou nought — Mine anger shall not harm thee. CEPHALUS. Do not deem Ungrateful him, thine humblest worshipper ; Though much unworthy of thy least regard. AURORA. Enough ; I know love is more powerful Than gratitude. In my transported mind For thy hke frenzy best excuse I find. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 1/ Scene III. A dark Forest — The Entrance of a Cave. Enter Procris. This is the cave — within this savage glen The sorceress lurks. How dreadful is the place, Well-suiting deeds of horror ! Oh ! I sink — Yet having so far ventured, scarce may worse My startled sense appal. How came I hither, Perplexed thro' thickening glooms, and tangled Unless by supernatural guidance led ? [brakes, I know some fearful things were in my path ; The wind moaned heavily, as it were laden With strange, unearthly warnings ominous ; Fantastic shapes rose hideous through the dusk, And rustling sounds crept ever by my side. — I will not think of it, lest my brain madden. The moon is low, and gathering clouds o'erheap Her pallid aspect, as to shield it from Approaching wrong. O awful deity ! Triform Diana, thou who bearest rule On earth, in heaven, and in the shades below ! Look down propitious! lawful be the charm, By which I dare invoke thy sovereign aid. Shall I approach ? The giant frowning rock My entrance seems to threaten — is not that A lurid flame glows from its dismal jaws ? Beyond, a shadowy form hovers obscure. Majestic Juno, queen of holy vows Protect thy votaress now. c 18 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. [ Tlie Sorceress speaks from the cavern. SORCERESS. Enter, thou who wouldst presume To search the secrets of the tomb. Speak thy will : shall I compel Souls that are at rest to tell Who among their ranks doth dwell ? Or call up him, thy face before, Whom thy wasting tears deplore ? PROCRIS. Might I behold, and join my fate with his ! \_She goes in. SORCERESS. It shall be done ; cast oif thy fear. Now the appointed hour draws near, The night is silent, the forest sleeps. Mid clouds the moon wide vigil keeps. Be silent, thou ; attend with awe ; Her listening orb doth nearer draw. [ The Satyr appears from the side at which Procris entered, and looks in from behind the rock. SATYR. Through briery walks, through the dews of night, Closely I've tracked the trembler's flight ; The screech-owl's wing flapped over her head ; But she heeded it not as she onward sped. On her shivering neck my breath was playing — She felt it, — nor turned, her course delaying. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 19 I've tracked her well to the witch's den, Of gods accurst, abhorred of men ; What heUish rite should they be about ? I'll watch and wait till she cometh out. SORCERESS. 'Tis time, 'tis time ; the fiend-fire burns ; Now the mystic offerings bring, To livid hue the red flame turns, While the sacred salt I fling. Next, meal from altar stolen, scatter ; Lo, the embers hiss and spatter, As thick drops of human gore, Hecate, to thee I pour. Hecate, propitious thou. To mine incantation bow ; And incline the iron ear Of hell's stern king my suit to hear, And thi'ow wide his portals drear ; And bid the disembodied sprite At my summons stand in s-ight. By Tisiphone's dire snakes, By the red torch Alecto shakes. By Cerberus' triple-throated yell. And Chimsera, monster fell. And by Proserpine's fair face. Ivory throne and sceptred grace, Cephalus, my spell obey ! On thee I call, make no delay. If thou art of yon viewless band. Arise, appear at my command ! [_A panne. 20 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. They hear me, but they answer not ; Mine invocation is too litrht. Ye demons, have ye then forgot Who shall compel in your despite ? Tremble, lest the dreadful word At which the vast abyss is stirred, My furious voice proclaim ! Must I pronounce the name Never yet from mortal heard ! Hell's deepest cavern, The Stygian lake, Nor the fiery flood Where the guilty quake. Nor Pluto's throne shall be a refuge found. Reluctant phantom, hear ! Hear, and appear, Or thunders forth the irrevocable sound. [ Cries and sounds of lamentation are heard as in the distance. The Sorceress turns to Procris. Is it enough ? PROCRIS. O Cephalus ! If thou, indeed, art of the invisible throng Whose awful presence fills the thrilling air, Oh ! hear me, answer me ! by our past loves. By all I have endured ; only appear, — Give but some sign that all is not forgot: Fearless I'll follow thee, and undismayed Seek out thy shadowy form in yon dim land CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 21 Where spirits glide serene; or in the flood Of Lethe cold, my sorrows drown for ever. [yl voice is heard in the air, singing. Rash inquirer, call no more On him who cannot hear thy mourning ; In vain, unblest, wouldst thou explore Regions whence is no returning ; Whom thou seekest doth earth contain, And on earth ye meet again. Wild the wish, and sad the doom, That led thee to the Sorceress' home, With unholy charm molesting The ancient realms of quiet sleep — Soon from all earth's troubles resting, - Thou must seek yon mansions deep. Now depart ; in silence cease. Vex no more our chartered peace. \_A holloiv ivind sweeps heavilt/ through the cavern, and the fire and Sorceress disappear. Pro- cris rushes out. PROCRIS. Oh, horrible ! 'Tis past 1 again I breathe The fresh, pure air. — Said not the spirit voice. He lives? I am content. \^7Tie Satyr steals from behind the rock. SATYR. She falters, droops ; no soul is nigh ; Shall I now my love-suit try ? 22 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. I dare not harm her, over-bold, Who the enchanted spear doth hold. Still in anguish and affright. Unaware she grasps it tight. O, how beautiful she seems Glistening in the silvery beams, Like shower of light around her head, And her bending form dispread. \^Advancing. PROCRIS. Ah! what goes there? Whatthingof earth or air — Who art thou ? Speak — approach me not. [ Threatening. SATYR. Fairest being, that doth roam Under midnight's star-lit dome, Be not angry ! do not strike Where thou owest no mislike. Than the threatening dart, more might Have thy soft eyes and beauty bright ; Safe from evil thou dost shine, Fenced in loveliness divine. I to offer service true. Accost thee thus with reverence due ; To guard thee from surrounding danger, And guide, where thou dost rove a stranger. PROCRIS. O grateful to mine harassed soul the sight Of breathing life. Joyfully I accept Thy guidance, friendly Satyr, timely offered. — CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 23 So lone, so far from home, — would I were there ! The clouds have passed away, and high in heaven Transcendent Cynthia reigns. O sovereign mild ! What do we here ; beneath thy placid rays. In whose soft influence wearied nature sleeps, And all things find repose ? But we alone, Like restless spectres, wandering from their graves, Disturb the midnight calm, the solemn hour. SATYR. Follow me, secure and free. Through the wood, though murk it be; While before thee I do glide. No hurtful thing can come beside ; No poisonous toad permission hath, Nor sUmy snail, to cross thy path ; Night-shade chill may not distil Her venomed tears to do thee ill ; And the sheeted vapour damp Rolls off when we near the noisome SM'amp. All evils that walk by night must flee. When they look on the sylvan deity. 24 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. ACT 11. Song of the Hours. HOUR OF NIGHT DEPARTING. Soft pacing down the western sky, Sad-suited Night in silence goes ; Her dragons slow, with sleepless eye, She guideth to repose. And following still the noiseless wain, I must not loiter from her train ; Nor ever gaze on light's gay throng, Nor join my sisters' dance and song, When glows the orient main. Her Cyprus veil, far-floating spread. In darkness shrouds my drooping head. And solemn is our gliding tread Towards Erebus' domain. HOUR of dawn. With hovering skirts the horizon shading, How tardily grave Night retires ! Now from the empyrean fading, Winking stars withdraw their fires ; Yet doth the east look wan and chill — Ah I why, Aurora, slumber still ? Daughter of Hyperion, rise ! In saffron robes and bright array. With many-mingling roseate dies ; Not wrapt in sober amice gray. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 25 Thy belted knight, Orion strong, On his far journey ling'reth long, Nor yet thy coming spies. High above old Ocean's stream Phosphor flames with herald beam ; The mist-hung hills thine absence know, The vales and pleasant meads below, — • All bathed in cooling dews they lie, Beneath the pale, transparent sky. To meet thee o'er yon Indian steeps Pard-borne Bacchus vigil keeps ; All night he swept the desert plain, With revel rude, and reckless train Of frantic Thyades around, Startling with unwonted sound Sleep's leaden ear in silence bound. But see, advancing slow and sad. In mournful pall, funereal, clad. Ah ! is it thus she comes at last ? Most like the form of darkness past. Bleak Eurus whistles sharp and shrill, Vapours and damp the cold air fill. What means, alas I this show of sorrow ? — No joy for me until the morrow ! HOUR OF SUNRISE. Away, away ! the golden gates wide fling ; The flamy car, the pawing coursers bring ! He mounts — the radiant god of day appears ; Bright Phoebus quickly dries Aurora's tears. 26 CEPHALUS AND PROCUIS. Scene I. CUffs overhanging the Sea. Morning. PROCRIS. Is it the freshness of the roseate morn, Attired in sparkling- gems, fanned by soft gales That woo Sleep's drowsy eyelids to unclose. And gaze upon her beauty — thus inspires The expectant gladness bounding through my veins ? With golden touch the sun's transforming power Hath changed night's hideous spectres and wild fear To bright-eyed harbingers that sing of joy ; And hither have they ushered me, where oft, Entranced by sad desire, I have stood, And o'er Euripus' turbulent waters gazed On yon unvisited shores, to fancy dear. O hills of Thessaly ! fair to mine eyes Your shadowy forms above the horizon smile ; The breezes from your land of blessings borne, Play o'er my heart, and all its springing hopes Burst into bloom, and April fragrance shed. Ye nursed his hardy childhood, ye have seen My gallant huntsman rouse the infuriate prey, While your glad echoes bounded to his call. And I might deem, thus gazing on the sky Ye wait, and watch till he, appearing, claim His heritage among ye ; and your homage, His birthright due. And shall I linger here ? Oh, that I had the eagle's pinion now ! Cleaving the rushing air, I'd stoop my flight First on your summits hoar, thence through all space. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 27 Following unfettered thought, till I might change This ecstasy of doubts that ebb and flow, Vague dreams, for sight-attested certainty. [ The Satyr comes in behind. SATYR. Like prowling thief or serpent sly, Stealing behind, unseen though nigh, Or Uke creeping shadow dumb, Linked to brightness, do I come. Ever she roams with restless mind, Nor night, nor day, repose can find. With clasped hands, her gaze intent On the far horizon bent ; And at her feet — what do I see? Slippery Opportunity, Thou dost favour me at last — Within my reach the spear is cast. Hush! she stirs — no, 'twas the wind. Raising her locks so free and fine ; One short spring, and fortune kind — \_He seizes the spear. Ho, ho, ho ! 'tis mine, 'tis mine ! PROCRIS. Merciful powers ! what may this mean ? O Satyr, Give back my charmed weapon. SATYR. No, The spear is mine, and thou also ! PROCRIS. Keep off! what shall I do? me miserable! '2S CEPHALUS AND PROCKIS. SATYR. Hear me, nymph divinely fair ! Hear the vows of love I swear ; Wilt thou to my suit incline, Henceforth all delights are thine. Thou shalt join the mirthful ring Of dryads and of fauns, who sing And weave encircling dances meet, While their god Pan pipeth sweet, And the nodding woods around Wave to the entrancing sound. Of amaranth and asphodel, And every flower of sweetest smell, Hesperia's banks will I bereave. Garlands for thy head to weave ; And to raise thy beauties higher Conspicuous mid the sylvan choir, |1 the shooting stars will watch. And ere they fall untarnished catch, And in a crown resplendent twine, ' Such as in yon blue vault doth shine. Then no more in sorrow shade Thy radiant brow — long over-paid The debt thy former love did owe — Time flies too fast to waste in woe. Or he is dead, or loves thee not ; Either way is best forgot. PROCRIS. No more profane the name of love, nor chafe Mine ears with thy abhorrent flatteries. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 29 Thou knowest I am enrolled of the band That wait around Diana, and abide Alway in her protecting care divine. She will avenge her outraged sovereignty ; Molest me not ; or dearly thou shalt rue it. . SATYR. Ah ha ! But I could tell a tale Would make your deity turn pale. Was it her consecrated maid, Who through the woods at dead of night, Wandered to the enchanted glade ; And by necromantic aid, With many a lawless magic sleight. Sought, for a lost or faithless lover. The grave's dread mysteries to uncover ? She will not help thee — call and see. — Wring not thy hands so piteously ; For thou art wise, and in thine heart Hath Venus more than Cynthia part. PROCRIS. Detested monster I nay, this jutting rock My safety shall assure. Receive me, thou, O ancient Nereus ! let thy briny floods Hide me, unhappy ! in their depths profound. Enter Euclea. PROCRIS. Euclea, O seest thou how I am beset ! EUCLEA. What means this insolence ? Ha ! 30 CEPIIALUS AND PROCRIS. SATYR. Beware ! Approach no nearer — .lo, the unerring spear Is in my grasp. EUCLEA. And darest thou think, rude wretch, Its holy charm shall thy foul will obey ? I fear thee not. SATYR. Then die. \_He hurls the spear at her, which glances aside and falls at the feet of Procris — she grasps it. PROCRIS. Thanks, great Diana ! SATYR. Accursed be the dart, and she who wrought Its lying spell ! Ay, now it is your turn. EUCLEA. I cannot slay thee, and I would not stain My weapon with thy chastisement. Begone ! Hence, hide thine hideous visage from our sight. And herd with goats or foxes, meet compeers. \_B eating him out. How pale thou art, and tremblest like a bird Scared by the felon hawk — be of good cheer ; See where thy craven foe sculks off with shame. PROCRIS. Ill had I fared without thee, my best friend. But ah ! is this the safety so much vaunted ? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 31 EUCLEA. It is our sport to quell these mimic dangers ; And as swift shadows glide along the plain, By showery breezes driven, they flee before us. But since on earth ill things must still abound, Our guardian goddess suiFers, unextirpate, Wild beasts to range her woods, and wilder shapes, The flock of Pan, half brutish, half divine ; But in due bounds restricted and compelled. Deep in the inland forest's thickets hid, The tusked boar hath his lair, and on the steeps Of hills remote may hungry, thievish wolves Nightly behowl mild Cynthia's silvery car. Yet much I marvel at this sudden outbreak From ruled submission and established awe — - Tell me how such befell ? PROCRIS. I will ; and more— ^ Wilt thou return with me, I'll show thee all The story of my fortunes strange and mournful. Such sweet compassion in thy bosom glows. Thou wilt not scorn fond unexperienced woes ; And thy clear counsels, beaming o'er my soul. Light up its deepest gloom, its rising storms control. Scene II. Near the Dwelling of Procris. Enter Cephalus, disguised as an Eastern Merchant. All hail, dear mother Earth, and thou blue sky, Whose crystal arch encompasseth and bounds 32 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. My sum of living joys I The goddess well Hath kept her plighted word — and this green bower, In wilds remote from man, amid the haunts Of wood-nymphs and Diana's virgin train, This thy retreat, my Procris ! O, there breathes A holiness around that hath dispelled At once each jealous doubt and false surmise. Can gold or orient pearls the heart allure, Nourished in Nature's solitude divine ? — Here courtly guile and vice might ne'er attain ; Nor need I fear in this disguise, methinks, A formidable rival to myself. But hush ! she comes — the same, mine own beloved gentlest being ! innocence and truth [one. On thy fair brow sit, shining through the veil Of pallid sorrow. Now what foolishness Doth my device appear I yet will I prove it. Enter Procris. CEPHALUS. Beautiful vision ! if, without offence, 1 may address what more than mortal seems, Vouchsafe a wanderer to direct where soonest The royal Procris he may chance to meet. PROCRIS. She greets thee now, O stranger ; say, what wouldst Seldom do these sequestered shades attract [thou ? The curious visiter, or sons of trade. CEPHALUS. Daughter of great Erectheus, marvel not. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. titi Though from Assyrian ports, or farthest Ind, Adoring crowds should haste to pay thee homage, And lay their richest offerings at thy feet ; So wide hath Fame the thrilling tale diffused Of thy much-wondered charms, and rarest virtue. Where'er thou bidest, soon must deserts wake To populous admiration — thrones send forth Their crowned occupants, and cities pour Their tides to woo thee back, of whom bereft, Their goodliest scenes show void. PROCRIS. Hither I came To shun the fickle throng of wealth and pleasure, And much 'twould grieve me were thy praises sooth. CEPHALUS. Let me entreat thee ; do not for some dream Thus waste in thankless solitude thy youth. And rob the world of such divine perfection. Rather bid me conduct thee forth, and place In courts and palaces, where thou shalt blaze Supreme in pomp and power, as loveliness, Above proud Europe's queens. Wilt thou be mine. The treasures of the east shall call thee mistress, — Myself thy slave. PROCRIS. Is love then to be bought ? And shall barbaric gold its worth repay ? Ev'n so — yet ah ! what price untold may ransom The soul to memory's bondage long enthralled ? D 34 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. CEPHALUS. Thou wouldest then forget ? — Of joys or pain The memory takes not from the past its hue ; But each way smileth on the mind at ease, And gives to misery an added pang. But where, perchance, some Hngering image chngs, To fancy dear beyond existent pleasures. For such I have a gift more acceptable Than mines of unsunned ore. Behold this band ; — Whose amber drops were slow-congealed tears, By sad Halcyone wept, — whose mingled pearls The earliest dews of morn, long time distilled In ocean's hidden caverns farthest east ; These by the rosy Hours were culled, what time Heaven's orient gates unbarring, they step forth Before day's glowing car — and are imbued With potent charm ; chafe but these yellow globes, And as the expressed odours strike the sense. Straight on the mind shall rise the perfect form, And lineaments distinct of whomsoever, Absent or in the grave, thou wouldst recall. PROCRIS. O priceless jewel ! how may I obtain it ? But yet, to me how needless I Never once {^turning away. Doth that one image from my thoughts depart. Its altar they, and they the attendant priests That hourly offer sacrifice of tears, And fond regrets, and hopes which at each sound Start to existence, but to bleed and perish. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 35 CEPHALUS. She heeds me not ; I can refrain no longer — Yet must not be too sudden. Hear me, lady — PROCRlS. Pardon me ; ill I play the courteous part. Thy words had conjured up a haunting vision, That cheats me to forgetfulness. No more ; Take my farewell, and prosperous gales attend thee To ports of better welcome. CEPHALUS. But one word — Can the ideal shadow be more prized Than whom it pictureth ? — Look on me ! PROCRIS. On thee !. What do I hear ? — ah me ! who art thou, stranger ? Oh, mock me not — I know, it cannot be— ^ CEPHALUS. Yes, I am Cephalus — look on me, dearest ; — Thine own, long-parted — - PROCRIS. Cephalus !. It is thy voice — Oh ! if this be a dream, Let me ne'er wake again. CEPHALUS. It is no dream. Canst thou misdoubt me yet ? these borrowed spoils Estrange me from thy soul ? 36 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. PROCRIS. Thou art returned. It is a joy so infinite, so wild, Absorbing reason. O my heart's dear lord, Why didst thou leave me ? whither hast thou been ? CEPHALUS. Not of mine own will absent, be assured ; And now, I trust, to leave thee never more. PROCRIS. No-^never more — it is thyself in truth — How strangely masked. — Take off this sable beard. One half thy loved face hiding ; this tiara. And give thy bright curls to the wooing air ; This mantle too, whose gorgeous, wide folds wrong The Grecian symmetry, and elastic grace. Most beautiful ! most noble ! how could I , That falcon -glance misread ! But let me know Of thy past wanderings now. CEPHALUS. Nay, tell me first, How camest thou to these unfrequented shores ? PROCRIS. Since that dark day when from the chase, alone Thy train returned, and thou wert not — long time We sought thee sorrowing through every state Of Greece, through unknown lands, till in despair. Loathing the sight of man, I hither fled. To drive the prey with the free huntress band. CEPHALUS. Thou, in a palace nursed, mid luxury. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 37 How couldst thou brave the hardship and the toil ; How meet the dangers of the savage chase ? PROCRIS. Behold this dart — Diana gave it me — By Vulcan wrought with spells of matchless force, That of its aim it cannot fail, then straight Seeks back the owner's hand. CEPHALUS. By Jupiter I A gift indeed divine. PROCRIS. It is thine own ; I have no joy in slaughter, and with thee, Can never need protection. CEPHALUS. My beloved I I too have been with the Immortals, and Have from their favouring hands received no less, While in etherial mansions I abode. PROCRIS. In heaven ? O Cephalus, how earnest thou there ? How could it be ? CEPHALUS. Let us sit down, and thus Once more by thy dear side, I will recount Whatever hath befallen, faithfully. PROCRIS. No, rather let me, resting at thy feet. Gaze on thee still — Celestial visitant ! Thine aspect beams with more than mortal lustre, 38 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. As with reflection of converse divine. Scarce dare 1 look upon thee — I dare not Unclasp thee, lest some jealous power once more Should tear thee from mine arms. CEPHALUS. Do not fear that. A deity courts not rejection twice. PROCRIS. You raise my wonder ; can a goddess stoop To human passions ? CEPHALUS. 'Tis Love's highest boast ; Levelling all distinctions ; but he thrives not In such confusion. PROCRIS. 1 remember well, When Ceres at my father's court arrived. Instructing men in useful husbandry. That stills gaunt Famine's cry — most fair she was, But awful in unearthly majesty, For worship meet, not love. And often here I've seen our silver-shafted queen, amid Her virgin choir, move unapproachable ; On her broad front serene, and in her eye, Such sweet severity, such commanding grace Their state uphold. CEPHALUS. But she who spreads the sky, Each morn, with roseate blushes, warm and deep ; Who showers o'er all created things her smiles, CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 39 And tears, like passionate, universal love — Aurora, other worship would inspire. She sought me on Hymettus' flowery side. And there to me amazed, in glowing terms, Set forth how love burns in celestial minds ; And more to rend the ties and fond desires Of earth and home, she in her flamy car Snatched me, through fields of air, to yon abodes, Where, heraldess of light, she lives in glory. What visions, O my Procris, I beheld. Of splendour inconceivable, unspoken ! But inly mourning still, her favours I With solemn sadness met, or strove to shun ; Till long provoked, and moved to late disdain, With not ungracious ire, she sent me back, At last restored to thee and happiness. Thou musest on my words, and — ah ! that sigh, Sweet, to the past belongeth. PROCRIS. Thou hast gazed Upon immortal eyes, and in the light Of heavenly beauty basked, and heavenly smiles, Unstained by tears. — O, how must I appear ? A child of clay, in sorrow steeped so long ; With whom to tread once more life's rugged path, Thou hast relinquished ambrosial bowers, — Too poor requital. CEPHALUS. Jove himself hath left His everlasting throne the stars among. 40 CEPIIALUS AND PROCRIS. Drawn by resistless might of mortal charms, With thine compared, inferior. Me the light That dazzles lures not. — Ah ! my love, more dear The mute flush mantling on thy modest cheek. And those soft-curtained eyes, downcast and still ; Not this one kiss on their transparent lids, Would I exchange for aught beyond our orb. Thy very silence hath a charm above The speech of gods. PROCRIS. O let me silent be ! Thus let me cling to thee, and hear thy voice, And on thy true heart sheltered thus, forget That grief or fear hath being. CEPHALUS. They cannot reach us. In life's first dawn, ere by the sun of thy Bright presence soul-informed — restless I ranged. And ardent, through each changing scene, alternate Delight or toil ; nor satisfaction found ; Till met in thee, as their true source and end. My stray affections cent'ring fixed, assured In holy calm, eternal and complete. Our thoughts, our lives, were one — it seemed strange That ever our existence could have been Apart and twain. How then, divorced, dissevered, Forlorn and unperfected, could my soul Partake of joy; though in exchange, endowed With worlds for empire ? But now, O dearest, I fold thee in mine arms, my self's best part. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 41 I press thee to my beating heart, and feel No wish ungratified, every aim fulfilled. PROCRIS. So would I die — life has no further bliss — Elysium cannot offer joy like this. ACT III. Scene I. A Glade in the Forest. Enter Satyr. Spurned, rejected, stung with scorn, For dear revenge I rave, I mourn. Shall I see these mortals prove Happy in my baffled love ? No, I'll plague them, I'll requite (Be the forfeit what it might) Full recompense for this despite ; And their well-strung harmony Turn to discord's jangling key. Were the huntress maid within my reach, A lesson sore my hand should teach, Never again to interfere. Or mix in strife beyond her sphere. But her friends shall fall my snares within- And here my practice I begin. NjTnph of the monarch-oak, whose reign Endureth o'er this sylvan plain, From centuries of yore ; 42 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. While each revolving Spring- renews Thy verdant robe of tenderest hues, And youth for evermore ! If ever to thy listening ear My pastoral ditties have been dear, Or soft notes breathed from oaten flute, When all the woods and dales were mute, And along the glowing west Sank the tired day to rest ; Or if in thy remembrance dwell That time when Cretan mariners Profane thy native boughs would fell. And thou hadst not "scaped destroying. But I brought thee aid, annoying Each coward sprite with panic fright, And sent them scampering amain, Bootless to their ships again. O then, to my request attend. And in thy turn, my need befriend. The Hamadryad appears from the Tree. HAMADRYAD. Forth from my mystic and still habitation Lo, I am come at thy loud invocation. Speak, gentle Satyr, full fain would I show thee. Not unremembered the service I owe thee. SATYR. Sweetest spirit, that doth keep In greenwood covert, lone and deep, I implore thy generous aid To save from harm a simple maid, CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 43 Else by treasonous arts betrayed. Hast thou not a stranger seen, In hunting garb, of noble mien, In whose hand the enchanted spear Dealeth death on every side ? The timid hare, the dappled deer, Our hallowed haunts no longer hide ; But worse than this, and more amiss — With honeyed words and many a wile, From Dian's band he would beguile One, in charms and grace, confest Preeminent above the rest ; And she hath drank so deep and long Of his poisoned magic strong. With spell-wrought mind she is content, Where'er his vagrant steps be bent, To follow still, through gloom or shine, Braving shame and wrath divine. HAMADRYAD. Bid me control the wild wind's wandering sigh. Draw down yon vapours light that fleece the sky, Or with the gossamer's airy thread as soon Build up a pathway to invade the moon — This might I do, nor yet a stratagem find, One human passion in its course to bind. SATYR. As a fiercer fire puts out Flames that seemed to burn most bright. So may sudden rage, no doubt, Absorb even love's transcendent might. 44 CEPHALUS AND PROCKIS. Tell her that some other fair His unretentive vows doth share, — For oft beneath thy shade, she knows, From the hot chase he seeks repose — Then fan her jealous ire, till quite She scorn and banish from her sight This pest that scares our sacred isle — So save thou both from foreign spoil. HAMADRYAD. Alas ! good deeds are ill by falsehood done. And thankless even when success is won ; But mindful of the past, I will essay. All thy request fulfilled, my debt to pay. SATYR. Thanks, dearest Dryad ; and behold, She of whom my story told. Draws nigh with pensive step, alone ; Now is the time — I must be gone. If these projects do not fail, [aside. Fairest I may yet prevail ; But should evil hence ensue, Euboea's rocks and dales, adieu! Once more my native Arcady, And bright-haired shepherd race I'll see. \^ffe goes out. HAMADRYAD. Mournful she looks, and in her restless eye Sits troubled fantasy ; sure to untie The tangled web about her spirit freed Should be esteemed a just, praiseworthy deed. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 43 Enter Procris. Hail, gentle mortal ! seekest thou my bower, On careful mission bent ? Or but to listen through the deepening hour, To yonder nightingale's lament ? PROCRIS. O guardian of the grove ! forgive, if I Too rashly on thy haunts intrude ; but say, Hast thou beheld a huntsman pass this way, Returning from the chase ? The westering sun Hath well nigh reached his goal, and yet he comes And fears oppress me, lest some rude mishap, [not ; Or peril unforeseen, retardeth him. HAMADRYAD. Ah, simple maiden ! is this thy care ? And is man's falsehood to thee unknown ? Lo, from the breast his arts ensnare Are peace and freedom for ever flown ! But hear what I relate, and prove Thy fond fears baseless as his love. I know him, and oft have marked, of late. Like bright Apollo's, the stranger's gait, When he seeks my shade, so broadly thrown, Lingering long — but not alone ; For a form resplendent in fadeless youth Sits by his side, and transported hears, While in soft accents of passion and truth, He vows nought else his life endears — But the world declining, he loves her only, 46 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. And wons for her sake in the forest lonely. Grieve not for this, ah ! poor beguiled one ; Yield not to anguish, and peace is won. From thy wronged bosom the traitor spurn, And swift to the mountains, to freedom return. [ The Hamadryad retires. PROCRIS. What chokes my utterance thus ? — what weight of horror Impedes my struggling breath ? O that it were A dream I the truth it cannot be — yet ah ! Wherefore should she deceive me ? Woe is me ! Despised, forsaken, I have lived too long. Enter Euclea. EUCLEA. W^elcome, O Procris, seldom met of late In wooded glade— but how thou heed'st me not ; Speak to me, dearest friend, hath aught of evil Befallen thee? PROCRIS. O Euclea ! I am lost. I am betrayed. EUCLEA.^ Not so — be comforted. What means this passionate despair? nay, tell me, WTio then hath injured thee ? PROCRIS. 'Tis Cephalus; Ay, do not start — 'tis he ! he whom this heart CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 47 So long, so madly worshipped ; he, whose name Enshrined here, I held a thing too sacred To be once whispered to the common air ! And he is false — another hath his love. — But wherefore tell thee this ? In vain, in vain ; Thou wilt not pity me; thou canst not feel What grief like mine may be ! EUCLEA. I do, most truly. But hast thou proof? Do not thy love such wrong, Unheard, without due trial to condemn ; And with thine own hands hollow out the grave Of lingering hope. PROCRIS. O torture, to lay bare The hideous certainty. Enough, the nymph Whose shrine is this vast oak, she hath been witness To all his perfidy, as plainly shown. As yonder sun at noon — ev'n now she told it. Breathing soft pity on the wounds her words Perforce inflicted. No, there is no room For hope, for comfort none. EUCLEA. No more than this? Trust me, for herein am I practised, not Obsequious Echo, nor the articulate calls Of imitative bird less credence claim. Nor less respective, utter what they know not, Than do these spirits, the idle denizens Of flood or fell, deep copse or forest tree. 48 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. Their substance is of air, and like the forms Imagination moulds they change at will ; For jealous of their secret haunts, resentful Of man's intrusion, in fantastic sport, With aspect strange, and manifold delusions. They love to lead astray the wanderer's step, And, mingling oft with melancholy's mood. Its air-drawn nothings vest in seeming truth. PROCRIS. As to the shipwrecked perishing wretch, the sight Of land and unhoped rescue, doth thy speech Hold forth to me new life. I have been too rash. EUCLEA. Say, was it not thy purpose to depart With Cephalus for Athens ? PROCRIS. So it is ; But he, for love of rural sport, delays. Besides, 'twere meet to offer solemn rites, And farewell thanks unto the guardian goddess, Ere leaving her domain. EUCLEA. Thou sayest well ; But if my words prevail, delay no longer. Go, cheer thy father's heart, who mourns ye lost ; And thence to king Dioneus' realm repair, Where fitlier may his son, than in the sports Of wood or field, employ his regal virtues. In mind-controlling counsel, and such charge As falls on one to rule a nation born. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 49 PROCRIS. Alas ! I see when passion oversways, Our duties we neglect as much. — So far As in me lies, it shall be done. But must I Lose thee, true, tender friend, my faithful guide ? EUCLEA. Our paths tend wide asunder, yet thy peace Shall ever nearest to my heart abide. Adieu — our last farewell be on the morrow. PROCRIS. Be far from thee — as thou i-emovest sorrow ! EUCLEA i^alone). Far from the woods, from Nature's sanctuary. Strife should depart, and falsehood, and the swarm Of passions numberless — what do they here ? Why desecrate this hallowed, still abode (If such there be) of Peace ? O lovely hour ! O scene, prophetic of eternal calm, Unknown, but most desired ! How sinks the sun, Serene and cloudless to his bed of rest ; How seem to sleep the forest's mighty brood, Majestical, beneath his quiet glow ! Soul-soothing prospect, dream of blest repose. The ceaseless longing in the human breast, That stirrest, fulfilling not ; — for thou art but A pause mid strife — an unit in the account Of ever-prevalent mutability. Thou, Heaven, most ancient, most supreme of being ! And thou, the universal mother. Earth ! From whom sprang forth the race of gods and men, — E ' / 50 CEPHALUS AND PROCKIS. How have ye lost primeval sovereignty, By your own children and tlieir children twice Unsceptred, dispossess'd ? And ye, who hold The changeful dynasty with modern rule, Ye presences, ye potentates, that fill Air, earth, and sea, with deity and power, — God of the golden bow, life-giving sun ; And thou, directress of night's paler beam ! — Must ye too perish, and our faith be given To newer creeds, or — all resolved to nought. Shall the old Anarch and blind Orcus prove Sole end of all, as origin ? Who can tell ? By what we know, expectancy we square. Yet doth a ray of more exalted hope Inflame the pure soul nobler to aspire. Towards one great source, ineffable, sublime. Above decay or change, omniscient ruler. Whatever else informs this universe Of visible shape or spiritual essence, shows But emanations of his unseen glory. Yet in man's heart hath contact with base things So much effaced this spark divine, that he In preference bows to idols like himself. By vile affections swayed ; and gives to scorn, Yea, to destruction, whoso would revive The down-trodden ashes of a purer shrine. Such was thy fate, son of celestial song, Orpheus ! by wisdom and by truth inspired, Who first didst pierce futurity's dread shade, And to thine hapless, fallen race disclose CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 51 A holier worship, an immortal hire ; Though thine unearthly harmonies could move Brute sense or stones inanimate, and quell Death's grisly terrors, thou wert doomed to mourn Thy frustrate hopes and vain-expended tires. Oh ! may my heart preserve with sacred awe The mysteries of that heaven-descended law ; Never to be revealed to human sight, Till from the fount of unimagined Light A ray shall visit earth, and make our darkness bright. Scene II. Tlie same. Noo n. THE HAMADRYAD. The air is sultry, and the sky red lours, Some evil influence from its aspect pours ; My beauteous oak, my care, my pride, from thee, Averted far may the dark portent be ! Sw'eet is the life we lead in greenwood bowers ; And pleasanter these fragrant, cool retreats, Than I could deem celestial golden seats, Were they but guarded from decay : But Time strides on, beneath whose scythe we must Together sink, and lie in joyless dust ; When Spring returning, shall no more array Thy wreathed boughs with budding garlands bright, No more with vocal choir mine ear delight. Yet thou not briefly dost endure, proud tree ; Long ages hence, within thy parent shade May I repose, and hear the melody Of thrush or blackbird warbling overhead ; 52 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. Or on the furthest spray, in light air swinging, , - ^^ Its orisons the shrill cicala singing; Till summer suns retire, and heavily Sad Boreas moans among thy foliage sere, Then with disdain thou scatterest, far and near, Thy frail attire, and dost appear Fronting the inclement skies, in majesty Predominant, thy giant arms flung bare, — The spreading cedar and tall pine [thine. In vain their dusk-robed forms would match with But should Jove's thunder rend the astonished air. And harm-fraught lightnings on their mission glare, O then I envy, drooping at my feet. The purple violet steeped in odours sweet ; Or the dark flower that bears on every leaf Inscribed tears, and characters of grief; With these no war the bolt of heaven wages. Alas ! my spirit hovering ill presages — Is it that I to falsehood tuned my tongue ? Thence doomed to tremble for avenging wrong. Enter Zephyr. HAMADRYAD. Sweet Zephyr, stay ! Thy breath has caught the ocean freshness ; On my parched brow let it play. Tell me whence thou wanderest hither, And thy course directed whither. ZEPHYR. Far on the confines of the west. Beyond the broad Atlantic's breast, CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 53 In silence and eternal gloom Doth ancient Darkness spread his dome ; There in slumbers soft I lay, Till wafted to the realms of day, On the islands blest descending, O what joyous life was mine ! Mid bright bowers and sweet vales, blending All delights divine. No churlish winds had license there. Only my gentle race might waken The odorous flowers, and perfumes rare From groves of spice and incense shaken ; And from their shades the music bear Of harpings and entrancing song ; Pure spirits breathe that golden air. And godlike forms are seen among. Wanderers from their star-paved dwelUng ; But severed from that happy throng. By stern iEolus' compelling, Once more I skimmed the briny main, And paused on wide Iberia's plain. Though unheeding, still proceeding Towards the rising of the sun ; Forests deep and hills of frost. And smiHng valleys I have cross'd, And whate'er I breathed upon Straight with livelier gladness shone ; But weary now I fain would close My filmy pinions in repose. HAMADRYAD. Must thou be gone ? 54 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. My thickest-clustering leaves I'll spread, And lap thee safely in their verdant bed. ZEPHYR. No ; for now a task is set me, Care and speed that doth behove ; Since, with Cytheris' bidding, met me Her messenger, a silvery dove, To search each nook and valley out, Through the isle, and bring her tiding Of a gentle pair abiding Somewhere here about ; Whose long tried truth and perfect love Half the scandal might remove. On her deeds and Cupid's thrown. And with blooming honour crown ; But the Fates unkindly frown. Threatening anguish and destruction From treasonous malice' false construction. Nor may the goddess aid aiford. Nor move by tears their doom deplor'd. But whate'er befalleth, I, Ere Night's shadows veil the sky, Must o'er the blue iEgean hie. O'er the alluring Lydian land. And light on Paphos' golden strand. [ The Zephyr passes away. HAMADRYAD. O my foreboding fears ! this is my doing, — O treacherous Satyr, through thy flatteries soft. Droop, droop, fair tree, our shame, our penance Let all thy goodly branches shake aloft I [ruing, CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. OO Take and enfold me in thy bosom deep ; Withdrawn from sight will I bemoan and weep, And wait the bursting of the ominous cloud [loud. That broodeth in the air, with mutterings long and [^Retires. Enter Procris. This is the spot ; here will I wait his coming. I could not stay at home ; yet, being here, I do him wTong. Approvingly he heard And acquiesced in our proposed departure ; Yet early left my side this morn, to hunt Once more, he said, Euboea's forest glades. I do not doubt his faith ; but know too surely His love is not like mine. Ah ! well for him — For all from such ill-mastered frenzy free. I, How blest is Euclea, in whose equal mind Each gentle office and affection holds Its due proportion, and around her path A halo spreads of joy ! Love such_as^hers, Weaves t o itself fresh ga rlands day b^ day — 3 Ii/ crow n knows nore newing, and once blight ed, I (Belike /erc long), I am left bare and hopeless. Some one approaches — it is Cephalus — I will not meet him yet ; this flowery shrub Fit screen affords. My throbbing heart, lie still ; Why ever forging undistinguished ill ? Enter Cephalus. CEPHALUS, The chase has led me far ; in sooth I am weary. Methinks it is but an ignoble sport 56 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. Skilless to strike, and slay the unresisting, As I have joyed to do this many a day. How like a truant boy's, let loose from school, Are my delights ! It is a glorious thing To follow unrestrained each bounding impulse Of the free will — to drink the elastic air — In native strength to triumph and rejoice. And earth is beautiful, who spreads abroad Her bounteous stores profuse, subject to man. Each shrub and blossomed tree around me bows 'Neath fruit and flower, loading the languid air With richest scents, that steal upon the sense, Oppressive in their sweetness. All is still. Making repose more close and heated than Unsheltered exercise. Fresh breezes, come ! And cool my fervid brow. Come, gentle air, Come at my call ; for I have woo'd thee oft On furze-clad hill or sea-commanding crag, Thine ever loved resort — come to me now ; I faint and languish at thy slow delay. PROCRIS. He calls, — his face upturned expectantly — Ah me ! — yet none is nigh. CEPHALUS. What sound is that, Rustling so near ? It stirs yon bushes — Ha ! The snow-white hind that baffled my pursuit. \_He Jlings the spear into the bush. PROCRIS. 'Tis I~ah ! Cephalus ! [^She springs forward and falls. CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 57 CEPHALUS. Eternal Powers ! To what am I reserved — Oh ! — can it be ? — My Procris ! speak to me. — PROCRIS. Thou art alone. — CEPHALUS. Is there no help ? O my accursed hand ! PROCRIS. No, I am dying. Mourn not, my beloved. It is the stroke of fate. I was forewarned — This bitter anguish mightest thou forget, Yet still remember her who loved so well ! CEPHALUS. Forget ? — dear victim, canst thou pardon, O — In pity bid me not, unblest, prolong A forfeit being. No, let us sate at once Thy rage, malignant demon, who, untired, Dost hunt us to destruction. Hapless wretch, I should have died ere this ! PROCRIS. Ah ! do not weep ; Too prodigal of tears my life hath been. They stained its tide of happiness, when full To overflowing — now, for ever fled — Most like some pictured dream, dim floating past To dull oblivion — all is blank and void — The last illusion o'er. CEPHALUS. Nought else ! alas — Leave me not thus ! look on me — speak once more. 58 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. PROCRIS. Clasp me more close — thy form fades from my Thick darkness covers me — I can no more, [sight — Be happy, dearest — be at peace — farewell. CEPHALUS. Thou art gone, my life, my love ! stay, stay for Earth's rose is withered, and for ever sunk [me! The star of light and love ; but not alone. Unaided, unavenged, on Acheron's shore Shall wander thy poor ghost. The hand, the spear That sent thee there shall send thy murderer too, And Dian's gift fulfil our bond in death. [_A voice is heard above. Cephalus ! CEPHALUS. Who calleth me ? Celestial odours fill the air, that glows With rosy light. A deity is near — {^Aurora descends. Ah, goddess ! thou art come — lo, here I Thou art avenged. Let my blood complete The expiation due. AURORA. Rash mortal, hold ! Deem not I come, Exulting, prescient of thy doom. Not mine, it was the work of Fate ; 'Tis earthly love ; for soon or late, This destiny must all await ; And eyes by human fires misled, Human tears must learn to shed, CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 59 Though poured from source divine. But thou, unmeet despair repel ; Against the tide of woes that swell, Be a strong barrier thine, — Of fortitude, the past to bear, Resolve, the future's frowns to dare, WTiere'er high heaven thy path assign. So when thy glorious course shall cease, May happier realms to thee restore Thy long lost love, to part no more, Where, in unexpressive peace. From earth-born ill she wins release. Now let the guilty trembling hear. Their recompense, their doom is near ! Thou tree, whence perjury's shaft was sped Aurora's curse is on thy head ! Never again shall morn renew For thee soft gales and honeyed dew ; The biting east shall blight alway, And the driving salt sea-spray Earthward thine unripe acorns render. And shrivel and strip thy leaflets tender. Mildew, galls, and cankered worm Gnaw thy core, and growth deform ; No sweet bird mid thy foliage sing. Nor insect sport on glittering wing, But owls shall hoot in thy mouldering breast, And the bat and the hornet make their nest ; While the false spirit in thee lying. With thee pines, with thee is dying ; 60 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. Till leafless, branchless, scathed, decayed, Lifeless and prostrate thou art laid. O son of earth, farewell ! my voice obey. Nor longer on thy homeward course delay ; So may no furies dire thy peace assail, And patience o'er the storms of life prevail. l^Auroi'a reascends. CEPHALUS. Farewell, benignant goddess ! not in vain Hath pity drawn thee from thy bright abode. I will be gone — and thou ! — not here we part ; My home shall yet receive thee, not in joy, But darkness and despair. Cold, cold and pale. In changeless silence wrapt — O never more Those death-sealed eyes may beam on me — no more Those pallid lips breathe music o'er my soul. No more ! In vain I weep — Lock up, my heart. Within thy bleeding cells the bitter smart ; Till in the longed-for tomb thou tak'st thy quiet part. '5 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. 61 THE SATYR. O deed of horror I dreadful day ! O misery ! woe, woe for aye ! Far better I had never been ! — Beneath the brake I skulked unseen, While the fatal stroke was dealt, And the curse I should have felt. Lo, the crimsoned violet With my victim's heart-blood wet ; On this spot I'll lay me down, Under the pining oak-tree thrown. Never will I stir again ; Though tempests beat and drenching rain, Motionless I here remain. Ye groaning boughs and sere leaves, shed Your tears unwholesome on my head ; My flesh to dry wood turn, my bones Stiifen and harden into stones ; And no difference between My hair and long gray moss be seen I Thus my crime I'll expiate ; And when nymphs and shepherds come, Mourning true love's hapless fate, That here befell — it may be, some Who the rude, lifeless heap behold And learn my strange tale truly told, — Shall say : The wretch who wrought this woe. The treacherous cause, yet well did know 62 CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS. How to avenge the evil done, Though compensation was there none. The dart of justice glanced awry, Passing the chief offender by ; But he with self-inflicted curse. On his own head wreaked penance worse Than her anger could invent. — Here for ages stretched in view, A warning and a monument Of wreckless wrong and anguish due ; For oft-told guilt atonement new. JOAN OF ARC IN PRISON. A DRAMATIC POEM. 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