A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN.

I.

I READ, before my eyelids dropt their shade,

"The Legend of Good Women," long ago Sung by the morning star of song, who made His music heard below;

II.

Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts, that fill

The spacious times of great Elizabeth

With sounds that echo still.

III.

And, for a while, the knowledge of his art

Held me above the subject, as strong gales Hold swollen clouds from raining, though my heart, Brimful of those wild tales,

IV.

Charged both mine eyes with tears.

In every

land

I saw, wherever light illumineth, Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand

The downward slope to death.

V.

Those far-renowned brides of ancient song

Peopled the hollow dark, like burning stars, And I heard sounds of insult, shame, and wrong, And trumpets blown for wars;

VI.

And clattering flints batter'd with clanging hoofs:
And I saw crowds in column'd sanctuaries;
And forms that pass'd at windows and on roofs
Of marble palaces;

VII.

Corpses across the threshold; heroes tall
Dislodging pinnacle and parapet
Upon the tortoise creeping to the wall;

Lances in ambush set;

VIII.

And high shrine-doors burst thro' with heated blasts

That run before the fluttering tongues of fire;

White surf wind-scattered over sails and masts,

And ever climbing higher;

IX.

Squadrons and squares of men in brazen plates,

Scaffolds, still sheets of water, divers woes, Ranges of glimmering vaults with iron grates, And hush'd seraglios.

X.

So shape chased shape as swift as, when to land
Bluster the winds and tides the self-same way,
Crisp foam-flakes scud along the level sand,
Torn from the fringe of spray.

XI.

I started once, or seem'd to start in pain,

Resolved on noble things, and strove to speak, As when a great thought strikes along the brain, And flushes all the cheek.

XII.

And once my arm was lifted to hew down
A cavalier from off his saddle-bow,
That bore a lady from a leaguer'd town;
And then, I know not how,

XIII.

All those sharp fancies, by down-lapsing thought

Stream'd onward, lost their edges, and did creep Roll'd on each other, rounded, smooth'd, and brought Into the gulfs of sleep.

XIV.

At last methought that I had wander'd far

In an old wood: fresh-wash'd in coolest dew,
The maiden splendours of the morning star
Shook in the steadfast blue.

XV.

Enormous elm-tree boles did stoop and lean
Upon the dusky brushwood underneath
Their broad curved branches, fledged with clearest green,
New from its silken sheath.

XVI.

The dim red morn had died, her journey done,

And with dead lips smiled at the twilight plain, Half-fall'n across the threshold of the sun,

Never to rise again.

XVII.

There was no motion in the dumb dead air,
Not any song of bird or sound of rill;
Gross darkness of the inner sepulchre

Is not so deadly still

XVIII.

As that wide forest. Growths of jasmine turn'd
Their humid arms festooning tree to tree,
And at the root thro' lush green grasses burn'd

The red anemone.

XIX.

I knew the flowers, I knew the leaves, I knew

The tearful glimmer of the languid dawn On those long, rank, dark wood-walks drench'd in dew, Leading from lawn to lawn.

XX.

The smell of violets, hidden in the green,

Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remember to have been

Joyful and free from blame.

XXI.

And from within me a clear under-tone

Thrill'd thro' mine ears in that unblissful clime "Pass freely thro' the wood is all thine own,

Until the end of time."

XXII.

At length I saw a lady within call,

Stiller than chisell'd marble, standing there;

A daughter of the gods, divinely tall,

And most divinely fair.

XXIII.

Her loveliness with shame and with surprise

Froze my swift speech; she turning on my face

The star-like sorrows of immortal eyes,

Spoke slowly in her place.