On Latmos: A Midsummer Night's Dream

WITH hunting nymphs, a starry train,
I lead the chase o’er heaven’s plain;
Through many a lair of fog and rain,
Through clear-washed azure space again,
With beamy darts, each night’s surprise,
Flung down in lakelets’ fringèd eyes, —
Earth’s Argus watch, that see the hours
Whose dark we streak with silver showers.

Now on we chase through clear, cold heights,
Far, far above earth’s twinkling lights,
Dissolving fast in midnight darks.
Out, out! ye puny, smoke-hued sparks!
Our laughter of immortal glee
Rewards your pigmy mockery.
Through cloud, through snow-drift, and white fire,
We hunt through heaven, nor pause, nor tire.

Hark! from below a flute’s sweet strain
Sets tiptoe all my huntress train;
My silver-sandaled feet move slow,
A magic flute! now loud, now low,
Now piercing sweet, now cadenced clear,
Now fine as fay-voice to the ear,
Till my divining goddess-eyes
The stirred air’s wake trace down the skies,

To see on Latmos’ barren peak
The music’s soul! What, shepherd, speak!
For thy flute’s sake, and for a face
Lit pale with strange, appealing grace,
I’ll hear,—though scarce such open look
This haughty virgin heart can brook.
Thy name seems known to me; ’t is one
A flute might breathe, — Endymion.

The music mute? Nay, forward, chase!
This mood’s not mine! A shepherd’s face
With mortal sorrow written there,
In mortal guise, however fair,
Can ne’er have held me. ’T was the tune
Drew back my silver-tripping shoon,
Accordant, spell-bound! In this hush
Is space for breath, —then on we rush.

What binds my feet and chains my eyes,
Unwilling thus? Whose daring tries
A strength immortal born above?
Shall Dian stoop to human love?
Can this cold breast, Caucasus snow,
With aught of mortal melting glow?
On, — on! What holds me? Like a wind,
Sweep, sweep me hence, my virgins kind!

’T is vain ! Those eyes so pleading bright
Compel my own, as light the light;
One name storms fast my soul upon, —
Endymion, Endymion!
A snow-bright statue, bow half drawn
To slay, I stand wrapt i’ the dawn
Of some new sun, whose sweet fire thaws
My heart and purpose in their pause.

Is love, of human suffering born, —
That love, my haughty spirit’s scorn, —
So all-victorious that it tries
To scare me through a shepherd’s eyes?
What! is’t. so mighty? Does it gain
Its potency through human pain?
Hence, hindering fancies ! Feet, begone !
Pursue me not, Endymion!

My strength dissolves like morning dew;
His eyes’ magnetic lightnings through
The night draw swift. From rift to rift
Of clouds, a shining shape, I drift,
And touch bald Latmos’ peak upon,
Beside thee, O Endymion!
I yield me to thy grief’s demand,
I feel the clasp of mortal hand.

I know the thrill of heart to heart, —
No more as world and world apart
In orbits separate to move;
For heaven and earth are fused by love.
Has Dian stooped, by this one kiss,
To forfeit all her goddess-bliss?
O wind, that sighs this hill upon,—
Endymion, Endymion,—
Make answer: “ Never so before,
Immortal now forevermore!”