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Gurgling in beds of coral: for anon,
I felt upmounted in that region
Where falling stars dart their artillery forth,
And eagles struggle with the buffeting
north

That balances the heavy meteor-stone;
Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone,

But lapp'd and lull'd along the dangerous
sky.

Ah, desperate mortal! I ev'n dared to press
Her very cheek against my crowned lip,
And, at that moment, felt my body dip
Into a warmer air: a moment more,
Our feet were soft in flowers. There was
store

Of newest joys upon that alp. Sometimes
A scent of violets, and blossoming limes,
Loiter'd around us; then of honey cells,
Made delicate from all white-flower bells;
And once, above the edges of our nest, 670
An arch face peep'd, - - an Oread as I
guess'd.

'Why did I dream that sleep o'erpower'd

me

In midst of all this heaven? Why not see,
Far off, the shadows of his pinions dark,
And stare them from me? But no, like a
spark

That needs must die, although its little
beam

Reflects upon a diamond, my sweet dream
Fell into nothing—into stupid sleep.

Soon, as it seem'd, we left our journeying And so it was, until a gentle creep,

high,

And straightway into frightful eddies swoop'd;

A careful moving caught my waking

And

ears,

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up I started: Ah! my sighs, my tears, Such as ay muster where gray time has My clenched hands; — for lo! the poppies scoop'd

hung

Rock'd me to patience. Now, thank gentle The gentle heart, as northern blasts do heaven!

These things, with all their comfortings, And then the ballad of his sad life closes

Must dreams themselves be; seeing they're Ghosts of melodious prophesyings rave Round every spot where trod Apollo's

more slight

Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit,
Where long ago a giant battle was;
And, from the turf, a lullaby doth pass
In every place where infant Orpheus slept.
Feel we these things?—that moment have
we stept

Into a sort of oneness, and our state
Is like a floating spirit's. But there are
Richer entanglements, enthralments far
More self-destroying, leading, by degrees,
To the chief intensity: the crown of these
Is made of love and friendship, and sits
high

Upon the forehead of humanity.

All its more ponderous and bulky worth

801

Upon his cheek, while thus he lifeful spake. Is friendship, whence there ever issues forth

'Peona! ever have I long'd to slake My thirst for the world's praises: nothing base,

770

No merely slumberous phantasm, could unlace

A steady splendour; but at the tip-top,
There hangs by unseen film, an orbed drop
Of light, and that is love: its influence
Thrown in our eyes genders a novel sense,
At which we start and fret: till in the end,
Melting into its radiance, we blend,

The stubborn canvas for my voyage pre- Mingle, and so become a part of it,

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And, therefore, was just going; when, be- My hunting cap, because I laugh'd and

'Tis scared away by slow returning plea- Its own sweet grief at parting. Overhead,