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(From Long Ago, 1889)
NIGHT fell: Selene proud and pale | |
| Rose and put on her archèd veil, | |
| And lifting to her brow the crescent small, | |
| The firm, young curve she deigns to wear, | |
| Went forth into the silent air, | 5 |
| And noiseless brought her white team from the stall. | |
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| Cold was her figure, and her breast | |
| Secure and hard; her eyes confessed | |
| No yearning; she was whole from love, and strong | |
| With undivided mind. Thus she | 10 |
| In her complete virginity | |
| Austerely brilliant urged her steeds along; | |
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| Until she came where Latmos sent | |
| Its rocks into her path; she bent | |
| To see how she should guide the wheels aright, | 15 |
| When, just where gentler darkness made | |
| A cave apparent by its shade, | |
| The loveliest mortal form grew on her sight. | |
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| She dropt the reins, the horses reared | |
| In tumult as the hand that steered | 20 |
| That course grew impotent—a moment’s change! | |
| As her intact and tranquil life | |
| Was devastated by a strife | |
| She could not master, tyrannous and strange. | |
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| Fear fell upon her, and the wild | 25 |
| Revolt of chastity beguiled, | |
| Of pureness grown a passion against fate; | |
| Yet an inevitable joy, | |
| As her slant chariot toward the boy | |
| Rolled down, o’ercame her fierce recoil and hate. | 30 |
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| He had flung by his shepherd’s dress, | |
| And in the grace of weariness | |
| Lay simple, calm, and happy, unaware | |
| The flashing beauty of his form | |
| Was filling the soft clouds with storm, | 35 |
| And tempting Thia’s stately child to bare | |
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| Her face and worship. Oh, she drooped | |
| Her long wings round her, as she stooped | |
| Close to his cheek, his eyes, his very breath! | |
| But ere, in that profound eclipse, | 40 |
| She brake the fountain of her lips | |
| O’er her beloved, in swoon as deep as death | |
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| She laid him; then securely spent | |
| Her virgin frenzy innocent, | |
| Then took her maiden pleasure unespied; | 45 |
| And, sealing the dark cavern where | |
| He lay asleep, resumed her care, | |
| With steady hand her steeds through heaven to guide. | |
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| But nightly form Meander’s stream | |
| Southward she turns her snowy team | 50 |
| Behind the further slope of Latmos’ height, | |
| Pierces unseen a mountain-rift, | |
| Then climbs the air, effulgent, swift, | |
| And fills the lovely river-bed with light. | |
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