amethystine panoply Of diamonded mail, and we will mark The mullets swimming by the mast of some storm-foundered bark, p. 119 Vermilion-finned with eyes of bossy gold Like flakes of crimson light, and the great deep His glassy-portaled chamber will unfold, And we will see the painted dolphins sleep Cradled by murmuring halcyons on the rocks Where Proteus in quaint suit of green pastures his monstrous flocks. And tremulous opal-hued anemones Will wave their purple fringes where we tread Upon the mirrored floor, and argosies Of fishes flecked with tawny scales will thread The drifting cordage of the shattered wreck, And honey-coloured amber beads our twining limbs will deck.’ But when that baffled Lord of War the Sun With gaudy pennon flying passed away Into his brazen House, and one by one The little yellow stars began to stray Across the field of heaven, ah! then indeed She feared his lips upon her lips would never care to feed, p. 120And cried, ‘Awake, already the pale moon Washes the trees with silver, and the wave Creeps grey and chilly up this sandy dune, The croaking frogs are out, and from the cave The nightjar shrieks, the fluttering bats repass, And the brown stoat with hollow flanks creeps through the dusky grass. p. 120 Nay, though thou art a god, be not so coy, For in yon stream there is a little reed That often whispers how a lovely boy Lay with her once upon a grassy mead, Who when his cruel pleasure he had done Spread wings of rustling gold and soared aloft into the sun. Be not so coy, the laurel trembles still With great Apollo’s kisses, and the fir Whose clustering sisters fringe the seaward hill Hath many a tale of that bold ravisher Whom men call Boreas, and I have seen The mocking eyes of Hermes through the poplar’s silvery sheen. Even the jealous Naiads call me fair, And every morn a young and ruddy swain Woos me with apples and with locks of hair, And seeks to soothe my virginal disdain p. 121By all the gifts the gentle wood-nymphs love; But yesterday he brought to me an iris-plumaged dove p. 121 With little crimson feet, which with its store Of seven spotted eggs the cruel lad Had stolen from the lofty sycamore At daybreak, when her amorous comrade had Flown off in search of berried juniper
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