From weary tendrils, and bow'd branches green,

She plucks the fruit unseen, she bathes un

seen:

100

And by my power is her beauty veil'd
To keep it unaffronted, unassail'd
By the love-glances of unlovely eyes,
Of Satyrs, Fauns, and blear'd Silenus' sighs.
Pale grew her immortality, for woe
Of all these lovers, and she grieved so
I took compassion on her, bade her steep
Her hair in weird syrops, that would keep
Her loveliness invisible, yet free
To wander as she loves, in liberty.
Thou shalt behold her, Hermes, thou alone,
If thou wilt, as thou swearest, grant my
boon!'

III

To the swoon'd serpent, and with languid

arm,

Delicate, put to proof the lithe Caducean charm.

So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent Full of adoring tears and blandishment, And towards her stept: she, like a moon in

wane,

Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain

Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
That faints into itself at evening hour:
But the God fostering her chilled hand, 140
She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd
bland,

And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,

Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.

Into the green-recessed woods they flew;
Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.

Left to herself, the serpent now began To change; her elfin blood in madness ran, Her mouth foam'd, and the grass, therewith besprent,

Wither'd at dew so sweet and virulent; Her eyes in torture fix'd, and anguish drear,

150

Sweet days a lovely graduate, still unshent, And kept his rosy terms in idle languish

ment.

Why this fair creature chose so fairily By the wayside to linger, we shall see; 201 But first 't is fit to tell how she could muse And dream, when in the serpent prisonhouse,

Of all she list, strange or magnificent: How, ever, where she will'd, her spirit went;

Whether to faint Elysium, or where Down through tress-lifting waves the Nereids fair

Wind into Thetis' bower by many a pearly stair;

Or where God Bacchus drains his cups divine,

Stretch'd out, at ease, beneath a glutinous

And sometimes into cities she would send Her dream, with feast and rioting to blend; And once, while among mortals dreaming thus,

She saw the young Corinthian Lycius Charioting foremost in the envious race, Like a young Jove with calm uneager face,

And fell into a swooning love of him. 219 Now on the moth-time of that evening dim He would return that way, as well she knew,

To Corinth from the shore; for freshly blew

The eastern soft wind, and his galley now Grated the quay-stones with her brazen

prow

In port Cenchreas, from Egina isle
Fresh anchor'd; whither he had been awhile
To sacrifice to Jove, whose temple there
Waits with high marble doors for blood

and incense rare.

Jove heard his vows, and better'd his desire:

And then she whisper'd in such trembling tone,

As those who, safe together met alone For the first time through many anguish'd days,

Use other speech than looks; bidding him raise

That Lycius could not love in half a fright, So threw the goddess off, and won his heart More pleasantly by playing woman's part, With no more awe than what her beauty gave,

That, while it smote, still guaranteed to

save.

But wept alone those days, for why should she adore?

Lycius from death awoke into amaze,
To see her still, and singing so sweet lays;
Then from amaze into delight he fell
To hear her whisper woman's lore so well;
And every word she spake enticed him on
To unperplex'd delight and pleasure known.
Let the mad poets say whate'er they please
Of the sweets of Fairies, Peris, Goddesses,
There is not such a treat among them
all,

Haunters of cavern, lake, and waterfall,
As a real woman, lineal indeed

330

From Pyrrha's pebbles or old Adam's seed. Thus gentle Lamia judged, and judged aright,

340

Marrying to every word a twin-born sigh: And last, pointing to Corinth, ask'd her sweet,

If 't was too far that night for her soft feet.

The way was short, for Lamia's eagerness
Made, by a spell, the triple league decrease
To a few paces; not at all surmised
By blinded Lycius, so in her comprised:
They pass'd the city gates, he knew not how,
So noiseless, and he never thought to know.

As men talk in a dream, so Corinth all, 350 Throughout her palaces imperial, And all her populous streets and temples lewd,

Mutter'd, like tempest in the distance brew'd,

To the wide-spreaded night above her

towers.

Men, women, rich and poor, in the cool hours,

Shuffled their sandals o'er the pavement white,

Companion'd or alone; while many a light Flared, here and there, from wealthy festivals,

And threw their moving shadows on the walls,

Or found them cluster'd in the corniced shade 360

Of some arch'd temple door, or dusky colonnade.

Muffling his face, of greeting friends in

fear,

Her fingers he press'd hard, as one came

near

With curl'd gray beard, sharp eyes, and smooth bald crown,