Voicelessly the forest Virgin
Vanished! but one look she gave -
Keen as Niobean arrow
Thro' the maiden's heart it drave.
Thus toward that throning bosom
Where all earth is warmed,--each spot
Nourished with autumnal blessings -
Icy chill was Daphne caught.
Icy chill! but swift revulsion
All her gentler self renewed,
Even as icy Winter quickens
With bud-opening
warmth imbued.
Even as a torpid brooklet,
That to the night-gleaming moon
Flashed in turn the
frozen glances,
Melts upon the breast of noon.
But no more--O never, never,
Turns she to that bosom bright,
Swiftly all her senses counsel,
All her nerves are strung to
flight.
O'er the brows of
radiant Pindus
Rolls a shadow dark and cold,
And a sound of lamentation
Issues from its
mournful fold.
Voice of the far-sighted Muses!
Cry of keen foreboding song!
Every cleft of startled Tempe
Tingles with it sharp and long.
Over bourn and bosk and dingle,
Over rivers, over rills,
Runs the sad subservient Echo
Toward the dim blue distant hills!
And another and another!
'Tis a cry more wild than all;
And the hills with muffled voices
Answer 'Daphne!' to the call.
And another and another!
'Tis a cry so wildly sweet,
That her charmed heart turns rebel
To the
instinct of her feet;
And she pauses for an instant;
But his arms have
scarcely slid
Round her waist in cestian girdles,
And his low voluptuous lid
Lifted pleading, and the honey
Of his mouth for hers athirst,
Ruby glistening, raised for
moisture -
Like a bud that waits to burst
In the sweet espousing showers -
And his tongue has
scarce begun
With its inarticulate burthen,
And the clouds
scarce show the sun
As it pierces thro' a crevice
Of the mass that closed it o'er,
When again the
horror flashes -
And she turns to
flight once more!
And again o'er
radiant Pindus
Rolls the shadow dark and cold,
And the sound of lamentation
Issues from its sable fold!
And again the light winds chide her
As she darts from his
embrace -
And again the far-voiced echoes
Speak their
tidings of the chase.
Loudly now as
swiftly,
swiftly,
O'er the glimmering sands she speeds;
Wildly now as in the furzes
From the
piercing spikes she bleeds.
Deeply and with direful anguish,
As above each
crimson drop
Passion checks the god Apollo,
And love bids him weep and stop. -
He above each drop of
crimsonShadowing--like the
laurel leaf
That above himself will shadow -
Sheds a fadeless look of grief.
Then with love's remorseful discord,
With its own desire at war,
Sighing turns, while dimly fleeting
Daphne flies the chase afar.
But all nature is against her!
Pan, with all his sylvan troop,
Thro' the vista'd
woodland valleys
Blocks her course with cry and whoop!
In the twilights of the thickets
Trees bend down their gnarled boughs,
Wild green leaves and low curved branches
Hold her hair and beat her brows.
Many a brake of brushwood covert,
Where cold darkness slumbers mute,
Slips a shrub to
thwart her passage,
Slides a hand to
clutch her foot.
Glens and glades of lushest verdure
Toil her in their tawny mesh,
Wilder-woofed ways and alleys
Lock her struggling limbs in leash.
Feathery grasses,
flowery mosses,
Knot themselves to make her trip;
Sprays and
stubborn sprigs outstretching
Put a
bridle on her lip;
Many a winding lane betrays her,
Many a sudden bosky shoot,
And her knee makes many a stumble
O'er some
hidden damp old root,
Whose
quaint face peers green and dusky
'Mongst the matted growth of plants,
While she rises wild and weltering,
Speeding on with many pants.
Tangles of the wild red strawberry
Spread their
freckled trammels frail;
In the
pathway creeping brambles
Catch her in their
thorny trail.
All the widely
sweeping greensward
Shifts and swims from knoll to knoll;
Grey rough-fingered oak and elm wood
Push her by from bole to bole.
Groves of lemon, groves of citron,
Tall high-foliaged plane and palm,
Bloomy
myrtle, light-blue olive,
Wave her back with gusts of balm.
Languid jasmine, scrambling briony,
Walls of close-festooning braid,
Fling themselves about her, mingling
With her wafted looks, waylaid.
Twisting bindweed, honey'd woodbine,
Cling to her, while, red and blue,
On her rounded form ripe berries
Dash and die in gory dew.
Running ivies dark and lingering
Round her light limbs drag and twine;
Round her waist with languorous tendrils
Reels and wreathes the juicy vine;
Reining in the flying creature
With its arms about her mouth;
Bursting all its mellowing bunches
To seduce her husky drouth;
Crowning her with amorous clusters;
Pouring down her sloping back
Fresh-born wines in glittering rillets,
Following her in
crimson track.
Buried, drenched in dewy foliage,
Thus she glimmers from the dawn,
Watched by every forest creature,
Fleet-foot Oread,
frolic Faun.
Silver-sandalled Arethusa
Not more
swiftly fled the sands,
Fled the plains and fled the sunlights,
Fled the murmuring ocean strands.
O, that now the earth would open!
O, that now the shades would hide!
O, that now the gods would shelter!
Caverns lead and seas divide!
Not more faint soft-lowing Io
Panted in those
starry eyes,
When the
sleeplessmidnight meadows
Piteously implored the skies!
Still her
breathlessflight she urges
By the
sanctuary stream,
And the god with golden swiftness
Follows like an eastern beam.
Her the close bewildering greenery
Darkens with its duskiest green, -
Him each little
leaflet welcomes,
Flushing with an
orient sheen.
Thus he nears, and now all Tempe
Rings with his melodious cry,
Avenues and blue expanses
Beam in his large lustrous eye!
All the branches start to music!
As if from a secret spring
Thousands of sweet bills are bubbling
In the nest and on the wing.
Gleams and shines the
glassy river
And rich valleys every one;
But of all the throbbing beauty
Brightest! singled by the sun!
Ivy round her glimmering ancle,
Vine about her glowing brow,
Never sure was bride so beauteous,
Daphne, chosen nymph, as thou!
Thus he nears! and now she feels him
Breathing hot on every limb;
And he hears her own quick pantings -
Ah! that they might be for him.
O, that like the flower he tramples,
Bending from his golden tread,
Full of fair
celestial ardours,
She would bow her
bridal head.
O, that like the flower she presses,
Nodding from her lily touch,
Light as in the
harmless breezes,
She would know the god for such!
See! the golden arms are round her -
To the air she grasps and clings!
See! his glowing arms have wound her -
To the sky she shrieks and springs!
See! the flushing chace of Tempe
Trembles with Olympian air -
See! green sprigs and buds are shooting
From those white raised arms of prayer!
In the earth her feet are rooting! -