6. "Behold him-Dis!" the Father cried, And the voice shook my throne forlorn : Pale Hermes curl'd his lips in scorn, And Iris drew her bow aside ; Artemis paled and did not speak ; Sheer fear flush'd Aphrodité's cheek; And only owl-eyed Pallas look'd with pitying smile and meek. 7. A weary night thro' earth and air All nature darken'd at my prayer; Which darkness earth and air did shroud, No star rain'd light, but, pale and proud, With blue-edged sickle Artemis cut her slow path thro' cloud. 8. And when the weary dark was done, Beyond my sphere of realm upsprang, With smile that beam'd and harp that sang, And conscious of him shining o'er, I watch'd my black and watery floor Wherein the wondrous upper-world is mirror'd ever more. 9. When lo, there murmur'd on my brain, Like sound of far-off waves a sound That did my godlike sense confound And kissed my eyelids down in pain ; And far above I heard the beat Of musically falling feet, Caught by the gnomes of earth and hurl'd down to my brazen seat. 10. And I was 'ware that overhead Walk'd one whose very motion sent A sweet immortal wonderment Thro' the deep dwellings of the Dead, And flush'd the seams of cavern and mine To gleams of gold and diamond shine, And made the misty dews shoot up to kiss her feet divine. 11. By Zeus, the beat of those soft feet Like snakes from out my brazen seat : Faint music reach'd me strange and slow, My conscious Throne gleam'd pale as snow, A beauteous vision vaguely fill'd the dusky glass below. 12. When I beheld in that dark glass The phantom of a lonely maid, Who gather'd flowers in a green glade Knee-deep in dewy meadow-grass, The sun that robed her round with gold, Mirror'd beneath me wondrously, loom'd white and round and cold, 13. Soft yellow hair that curl'd and clang And as she went she gather'd flowers, And as she gather'd flowers she sang : It floated down my sulphurous eaves, That faint sweet song of flowers and leaves, Of vineyards, gushing purple wines, and yellow slanted sheaves. 14. Darkling I mutter'd, "It were choice So fair a queen, and ever to hear Such song from so divine a voice!' And with the wish I upward breathed A mist of fire that swiftly seethed Thro' shuddering earth-seams overhead, and round her warm knees wreathed. 15. Whereon the caves of precious stones Grew bright as moonlight thrown on death, And every cave was murmuring: "O River, cease to flow and sing, And bear the tall bride on thy banks to the footstool of thy king!" |