god, The greatest wisdom of the world, While on his head the sunshine played, And round his robe the shadows curled. Till, through the forest's green and gold, And through the magic afternoon, —Strange, as moonlit waters are, Sweet, as cowslip-fields in June:— Oh, summer-footed Vivien came! And through the web of dreaming broke; And on her silver clarion note Of laughter, the great Sage awoke. She sat her down beneath the tree, —Oh! fair her youth his age beside!— She plucked the boughs to make her shade. She pulled the flowers far and wide, To deck her hair; and while the glades Re-echoed to her laughter gay, She leaned to Merlin, kissing him, And stroked his beard, unkempt and grey. And he forgot the voice of trees, And of the silent undergrowth, To hear her merry lilting song, And watch, reposed in summer sloth, Vivien dance upon the sward, As children dance, alone, at ease; Till breathlessly she cast her down And laid her head upon his knees. And with his hand among her hair The magic of his mind was rent, And captive to her shadowed eyes, Behold! the Master-Thinker went. A VILLA ON THE BAY OF NAPLES The crescent's single line of white Above the pointed cypress tree, Was all there was of any light Upon the earth and on the sea; (Black was the bay of Naples.) "And ah," she said, "why have you come Unbidden on my balcony, This midnight hour, close and dumb; What is it you would have of me, Here by the bay of Naples?" "Now having knit, untie the knot," Said he; "you drew me from afar, Or having willed or willed it not, Your face shone on me like a star Above the bay of Naples. "Oh, know you not, fair star of love, The thought of you is like new wine, Or strong sweet air on heights above, For mortal senses too divine——" (Black was the bay of Naples.) Her lamp beside the window set The woman, and the light shone out A yellow glimmer in the jet Of darkness, that lay all about The outstretched bay of Naples. But "Nay" she said, and laughed with scorn. And also
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