Starward, then swooping down the hemi

sphere

Upon the lengthening javelins of the blast.
Why paus'd I in the palace-groves to dream
Of bliss, with all its substance in my reach ?
Why not at once, with thee enfolded, whirl
Deep down the abyss of ecstasy, to melt
All brain and being where no reason is,
Or else the source of reason? But the roar
Of Time's great wings, which ne'er had
driven me

By dread events, nor broken-down old age,
Back on myself, the close experience

Of false mankind, with whispers cold and dry

As snake-songs midst stone hollows, thus has taught me,

The giant hunter, laugh'd at by the world, Not to forget the substance in the dream Which breeds it. Both must melt and merge in one.

Now shall I overcome thee, body and soul, And like a new-made element brood o'er thee

With all devouring murmurs! Come, my love!

Come, life's blood-tempest ! — come, thou blinding storm,

And clasp the rigid pine- this mortal frame

Wrap with thy whirlwinds, rend and wrestle down,

And let my being solve its destiny,

Defying, seeking, thine extremest power; Famish'd and thirsty for the absorbing

doom

Of cedar was it, lofty in its glooms When the sun hung o'erhead, and, in its darkness,

Like Night when giving birth to Time's first pulse.

Silence had ever dwelt there; but of late Came faint sounds, with a cadence droning low,

From the far depths, as of a cataract Whose echoes midst incumbent foliage died. From one high mountain gush'd a flowing stream,

Which through the forest pass'd, and found a fall

Within, none knew where, then roll'd tow'rds the sea.

There, underneath the boughs, mark where the gleam

Of sunrise through the roofing's chasm is thrown

Upon a grassy plot below, whereon

The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream Swift rolling tow'rds the cataract, and drinks deeply.

Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks,
While ever and anon the nightingale,
Not waiting for the evening, swells his
hymn

His one sustain'd and heaven-aspiring

Our inmost powers, fresh wing'd, shall soar and dream

In realms of Elysian gleam, whose air light-flowers,

Will ever be, though vague, most fair, most sweet,

Better than memory.— - Look yonder, love ! What solemn image through the trunks is

straying?

And now he doth not move, yet never turns
On us his visage of rapt vacancy!
It is Oblivion. In his hand - though nought
Knows he of this
a dusky purple flower
Droops over its tall stem. Again, ah see!
He wanders into mist, and now is lost.
Within his brain what lovely realms of
death

Are pictur'd, and what knowledge through the doors

Of his forgetfulness of all the earth

A path may gain? Then turn thee, love, to me :

Was I not worth thy winning, and thy toil, O earth-born son of Ocean? Melt to rain.'

EOS

Level with the summit of that eastern mount,

By slow approach, and like a promontory Which seems to glide and meet a coming ship,

The pale-gold platform of the morning came Towards the gliding mount. Against a sky Of delicate purple, snow-bright courts and halls,

Touch'd with light silvery green, gleaming

across,

Fronted by pillars vast, cloud-capitall'd, With shafts of changeful pearl, all rear'd upon

An isle of clear aerial gold, came floating;
And in the centre, clad in fleecy white,
With lucid lilies in her golden hair,
Eos, sweet Goddess of the Morning, stood.

From the bright peak of that surrounded mount,

One step sufficed to gain the tremulous floor Whereon the palace of the Morning shone, Scarcely a bow-shot distant; but that step, Orion's humbled and still mortal feet Dared not adventure. In the Goddess' face Imploringly he gaz'd. "Advance!" she said,

Starward, then swooping down the hemi

sphere

Upon the lengthening javelins of the blast.
Why paus'd I in the palace-groves to dream
Of bliss, with all its substance in my reach?
Why not at once, with thee enfolded, whirl
Deep down the abyss of ecstasy, to melt
All brain and being where no reason is,
Or else the source of reason? But the roar
Of Time's great wings, which ne'er had
driven me

By dread events, nor broken-down old age,
Back on myself, the close experience

Of false mankind, with whispers cold and dry

As snake-songs midst stone hollows, thus has taught me,

The giant hunter, laugh'd at by the world, Not to forget the substance in the dream Which breeds it. Both must melt and

Of cedar was it, lofty in its glooms When the sun hung o'erhead, and, in its darkness,

Like Night when giving birth to Time's first pulse.

Silence had ever dwelt there; but of late Came faint sounds, with a cadence droning low,

From the far depths, as of a cataract Whose echoes midst incumbent foliage died. From one high mountain gush'd a flowing stream,

Which through the forest pass'd, and found a fall

Within, none knew where, then roll'd tow'rds the sea.

Better than memory. Look yonder, love! What solemn image through the trunks is straying?

And now he doth not move, yet never turns
On us his visage of rapt vacancy!
It is Oblivion. In his hand-though nought
Knows he of this a dusky purple flower
Droops over its tall stem. Again, ah see!
He wanders into mist, and now is lost.
Within his brain what lovely realms of
death

Are pictur'd, and what knowledge through the doors

Of his forgetfulness of all the earth A path may gain? Then turn thee, love, to me :

Was I not worth thy winning, and thy toil, O earth-born son of Ocean? Melt to rain."

EOS

Level with the summit of that eastern mount,

By slow approach, and like a promontory Which seems to glide and meet a coming ship,

The pale-gold platform of the morning came Towards the gliding mount. Against a sky Of delicate purple, snow-bright courts and halls,

Touch'd with light silvery green, gleaming

across,

Fronted by pillars vast, cloud-capitall'd, With shafts of changeful pearl, all rear'd upon

An isle of clear aerial gold, came floating;
And in the centre, clad in fleecy white,
With lucid lilies in her golden hair,
Eos, sweet Goddess of the Morning, stood.

From the bright peak of that surrounded mount,

One step sufficed to gain the tremulous floor Whereon the palace of the Morning shone, Scarcely a bow-shot distant; but that step, Orion's humbled and still mortal feet Dared not adventure. In the Goddess' face Imploringly he gaz'd. "Advance!" she said,

That calls me to awaken other lands, That moment will escape which ne'er returns."

Forward Orion stepp'd: the platform bright

Shook like the reflex of a star in water Mov'd by the breeze, throughout its whole

Whereto, with mildness, Akinetos said, "Hast thou consider'd of Eternity?" “Profoundly have I done so, in my youth," Chronos replied, and bow'd his furrow'd head;

"Most, when my tender feet from Chaos trod

Stumbling, and, doubtful of my eyes, my hands

The dazzling air explor'd. But, since that date,

So many ages have I told; so many,
Fleet after fleet on newly opening seas,
Descry before me, that of late my thoughts
Have rather dwelt on all around my path,
With anxious care. Well were it thus with
thee."

Then Akinetos calmly spake once more, With eyes still bent upon the tide-ribb'd sands:

"Orion, ever active and at work, Honest and skilful, not to be surpass'd, Drew misery on himself and those he lov'd; Wrought his companions' death,— and now hath found,

At Artemis' hand, his own. So fares it ever With the world's builder. He, from wall to beam,

From pillar to roof, from shade to corporal form,

From the first vague Thought to the Temple vast,

A ceaseless contest with the crowd endures, For whom he labors. Why then should

we move?

Our wisdom cannot change whate'er's decreed,

Nor e'en the acts or thoughts of brainless

men:

Why then be mov'd? Best reason is most

vain.

He who will do and suffer, must— and end.

Hence, death is not an evil, since it leads
To somewhat permanent, beyond the noise
Man maketh on the tabor of his will,
Until the small round burst, and pale he
falls.

His ear is stuff'd with the grave's earth, yet feels

The inaudible whispers of Eternity,
While Time runs shouting to Oblivion
In the upper fields! I would not swell
that cry."

Thus Akinetos sat from day to day,
Absorb'd in indolent sublimity,
Reviewing thoughts and knowledge o'er
and o'er ;