Accolon of Gaul Part 6

Mantled mists like ambushed braves, Chiefed by some swart Blackfoot tall, Stole along each forest wall-- Phosph.o.r.escent moony waves.

Then the moon rose; from some cup Each hill's bowl,--magnetic shine, Mist and silence poured like wine,-- Brimmed a monster goblet up.

Ingot from lost orient mines, Delved by humpbacked gnomes of Night, Full her orb loomed, nacreous white, O'er Pine Mountain's druid pines.

As thro' fragmentary fleece Her circ.u.mference polished broke, Orey-seamed, about us woke Myths of Italy and Greece.

Then--a chanson serenade-- You, rich-voiced, to your guitar To our G.o.ddess in that star Sang "_Ne Tempo_" from the glade.

SEnORITA.

An agate black thy roguish eyes Claim no proud lineage of skies, No velvet blue, but of sweet Earth, Rude, reckless witchery and mirth.

Looped in thy raven hair's repose, A hot aroma, one tame rose Dies envious of that beauty where,-- By being near which,--it is fair.

Thy ears,--two dainty bits of song Of unpretending charm, which wrong Would jewels rich, whose restless fire Courts coa.r.s.e attention,--such inspire.

Slim hands, that crumple listless lace About thy white b.r.e.a.s.t.s' swelling grace, And falter at thy samite throat, To such harmonious efforts float.

Seven stars stop o'er thy balcony Cored in taunt heaven's canopy; No moon flows up the satin night In pearl-pierced raiment spun of light.

From orange orchards dark in dew Vague, odorous lips the West wind blew, Or thou, a new Angelica From Ariosto, breath'd'st Cathay.

Oh, stoop to me and speaking reach My soul like song, that learned low speech From some sad instrument, who knows?

Or bloom,--a dulcimer or rose.

LEANDER TO HERO.

I.

Brows wan thro' blue-black tresses Wet with sharp rain and kisses; Locks loose the sea-wind scatters, Like torn wings fierce for flight; Cold brows, whose sadness flatters, One kiss and then--good-night.

II.

Can this thy love undo me When in the heavy waves?

Nay; it must make unto me Their groaning backs but slaves!

For its magic doth indue me With strength o'er all their graves.

III.

Weep not as heavy-hearted Before I go! For thou Wilt follow as we parted-- A something hollow-hearted, Dark eyes whence cold tears started, Gray, ghostly arms out-darted To take me, even as now, To drag me, their weak lover, To caves where sirens hover, Deep caves the dark waves cover, Down! throat and hair and brow.

IV.

But in thy sleep shalt follow-- Thy bosom fierce to mine, Long arms wound warm and hollow,-- In sleep, in sleep shalt follow,-- To save me from the brine; Dim eyes on mine divine; Deep breath at mine like wine; Sweet thou, with dream-soft kisses To dream me onward home, White in white foam that hisses, Love's creature safe in foam.

V.

What, Hero, else for weeping Than long, lost hours of sleeping And vestal-vestured Dreams, Where thy Leander stooping Sighs; no dead eyelids drooping; No harsh, hard looks accusing; No curls with ocean oozing; But then as now he seems, Sweet-favored as can make him Thy smile, which is a might, A hope, a G.o.d to take him Thro' all this h.e.l.l of night.

VI.

Then where thy b.r.e.a.s.t.s are hollow One kiss! one kiss! I go!

Sweet soul! a kiss to follow Up whence thy b.r.e.a.s.t.s bud hollow, Cheeks than wood-blossoms whiter, Eyes than dark waters brighter Wherein the far stars glow.

Look lovely when I leave thee!-- I go, my love, I go!

Look lovely, love, nor grieve thee, That I must leave thee so.

MUSAGETES.

For the mountains' hoa.r.s.e greetings came hollow From stormy wind-chasms and caves, And I heard their wild cataracts wallow Huge bulks in long spasms of waves, And that Demon said, "Lo! you must follow!

And our path is o'er myriads of graves."

Then I felt that the black earth was porous And rotten with worms and with bones; And I knew that the ground that now bore us Was cadaverous with Death's skeletons; And I saw horrid eyes, heard sonorous And dolorous gnashings and groans.

But the night of the tempest and thunder, The might of the terrible skies, And the fire of h.e.l.l that,--coiled under The hollow Earth,--smoulders and sighs, And the laughter of stars and their wonder Mingled and mixed in its eyes.

And we clomb--and the moon old and sterile Clomb with us o'er torrent and scar!

And I yearned towards her oceans of beryl, Wan mountains and cities of spar-- "'Tis not well," that one said, "you're in peril Of falling and failing your star."

And we clomb--through a murmur of pinions, Thin rattle of talons and plumes; And a sense as of Boreal dominions Clove down to the abysms and tombs; And the Night's naked, Ethiope minions Swarmed on us in legions of glooms.

And we clomb--till we stood at the portal Of the uttermost point of the peak, And it led with a step more than mortal Far upward some presence to seek; And I felt that this love was immortal, This love which had made me so weak.

We had clomb till the limbo of spirits Of darkness and crime deep below Swung nebular; nor could we hear its Lost wailings and moanings of woe,-- For we stood in a realm that inherits A vanquishing virgin of snow.

THE QUARREL.

Could I divine how her gray eyes Gat such cold haughtiness of skies;

How, some wood-flower's shadow brown, Dimmed her fair forehead's wrath a frown;

How, rippled sunshine blown thro' air, Tossed scorn her eloquence of hair;