Their melon-harvest to the heart: They see The Scythian:- but long frosts Parch them in winter-time on the bare Stepp, Till they too fade like grass: they crawl They see the Merchants On the Oxus' stream: - but care Must visit first them too, and make them pale. Whether, through whirling sand, A cloud of desert robber-horse has burst On some great river's marge, Mown them down, far from home. They see the Heroes Near harbour:—but they share Their lives, and former violent toil, in Thebes, Seven-gated Thebes, or Troy: Or where the echoing oars Of Argo, first, Startled the unknown Sea. The old Silenus Came, lolling in the sunshine, From the dewy forest coverts, This way, at noon. Sitting by me, while his Fauns Down at the water side Sprinkled and smooth'd His drooping garland, He told me these things. But I, Ulysses, Sitting on the warm steps, All day long, have seen, Without pain, without labour, Ah cool night-wind, tremulous stars! Ah glimmering water Fitful earth-murmur Dreaming woods! Ah golden-hair'd, strangely-smiling Goddess, And thou, prov'd, much enduring, Wave-toss'd Wanderer! Who can stand still? Ye fade, ye swim, ye waver before me. Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild thronging train, The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through my soul! THEKLA'S ANSWER. (FROM SCHILLER.) WHERE I am, thou ask'st, and where I wended When my fleeting shadow pass'd from thee?— Am I not concluded now, and ended? Have not life and love been granted me? Ask, where now those nightingales are singing, Who, of late, on the soft nights of May, Set thine ears with soul-fraught music ringing Only, while their love liv'd, lasted they. Find I him, from whom I had to sever ? Doubt it not, we met, and we are one. There, where what is join'd, is join'd for ever, There, where tears are never more to run. |