ENDYMION:

Page 108, line 4 from the bottom, for "her" read "his."

Book 1.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever:
Its loveliness grows; it will never
Fade into nothing; it will still provide
A peaceful bower for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, health, and calm breathing.
So, every morning, we are creating
A flowery bond to tie us to the earth,
In spite of despair, of the lack
Of noble spirits, of gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and overly dark paths10
Made for our searching: yes, despite it all,
Some form of beauty lifts the veil
From our dark spirits. Like the sun, the moon,
Trees both old and young offering shade
For simple sheep; and like daffodils
With the green world they thrive in; and clear streams
That create a refreshing cover
Against the heat of the season; the thick forest
Rich with a scattering of beautiful musk-rose blooms:
And so too is the greatness of the destinies20
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All the lovely stories we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of eternal drink,
Pouring to us from the edge of heaven.

We don't just experience these essences.
For a brief hour; no, just like the trees
That softly speak around a temple become
As cherished as the temple itself, so does the moon,
The passion of poetry, endless glories,
Stay with us until they turn into a bright light30
For our souls, so deeply connected to us,
That, whether it's shining or dark and cloudy,
They must always be with us, or we won't survive.

So it's with total joy that I
Will tell the story of Endymion.
The very sound of the name has become
Part of me, and each beautiful scene
Is becoming clear to me like the green
Of our own valleys: so I will start
Now while I can’t hear the city’s noise;40
Now while the early buds are just emerging,
And weaving through the freshest hues
In old forests; while the willow drapes
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home more milk. And, as the year
Becomes lush with juicy stalks, I’ll smoothly glide
My little boat, for many peaceful hours,
With streams that deepen beautifully into groves.
I hope to write many and many a verse,
Before the daisies, outlined in red and white,50
Disappear into thick grass; and before the bees
Buzz around clusters of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
Oh, may no winter season, bare and gray,
See it half finished: but let bold Autumn,
With its universal touch of muted gold,
Surround me when I finish.
And now, without hesitation, I send
My adventurous thought into a wild space:
There let its trumpet sound, and quickly cover60
My uncertain path with greenery, so I can move
Easily onward, through flowers and weeds.

On the slopes of Latmos, stretch
A vast forest; the rich soil nourished
So abundantly all the hidden roots
Into overhanging branches and precious fruits.
It had gloomy shades, secluded and deep,
Where no one ventured; and if a lamb from the shepherd's fold
Wandered far into those hidden glens,
It never returned to the cozy pens70
Where its siblings, bleating with joy,
Went over the hills every evening.
Among the shepherds, it was always thought,
That not a single woolly lamb that strayed
From the white flock passed unharmed
By a hungry wolf or a sneaky leopard,
Until it reached some untraveled plains
Where the herds of Pan grazed: yes, great was the loss
For anyone who lost even one lamb. There were many paths,
Winding through leafy ferns and muddy rushes,80
And ivy-covered banks; all leading pleasantly
To a wide meadow, where one could only see
Stems crowding all around between the rise
Of grass and slanting branches: who could tell
The freshness of the sky above,
Framed by dark treetops? Through which a dove
Often flapped its wings, and a little cloud
Would drift across the blue.

Right in the middle of this enjoyment
There stood a marble altar, adorned with a bunch90
Of freshly bloomed flowers; and the dew
Had scattered fairy fantasies to lay
Daisies upon the sacred grass last night,
And so the morning light could receive them in style.
For it was morning: Apollo's rising fire
Turned every eastern cloud into a silvery pyre
Of brightness so pure that it could draw
A melancholy spirit into blissful forgetfulness, and dissolve
Into the winds: rain-scented wild roses100
Gave gentle sweetness to that well-courting sun;
The lark was lost in his light; cool springs had run
To warm their coldest bubbles in the grass;
A man's voice echoed from the mountains; and the pulse
Of nature's lives and wonders beat tenfold,
To experience this sunrise and its timeless glories.

As the calm actions of dawn
Were at their peak, suddenly, onto that same lawn
A group of small children rushed in with joyful shouts;110
Gathering around the altar, they seemed to look
Eagerly around as if hoping to see
Some festive people: they hadn’t waited
Long before their ears were filled
With a soft hint of music, which even then
Rose and fell gently, then faded away again.
Before long, it returned
With its gentle swell, like a soft wave,
Touching the light-hung leaves, in smooth echoes breaking
Through the valley covered in trees, before its end, overtaking
The rolling murmurs of the lonely sea.121

And now, as far into the woods as we
Could spot a lynx's eye, there shone a light
With beautiful faces and a flurry of white garments,
Becoming clearer and clearer, until finally
They all passed into the widest path,
Heading straight for the woodland altar.
O kind muse! let my weak tongue not stumble
As I describe this lovely group,
Their ancient devotion, and their joy:130
But let a bit of ethereal dew
Fall on my head, and soon release
My soul; so that I may dare, while wandering,
To stutter where old Chaucer used to sing.

Young women danced ahead,
Carrying the weight of a shepherd's song;
Each with a white basket overflowing
With April's tender young ones: next, well groomed,
A crowd of shepherds with sunburnt faces
Just like you'd read about in Arcadian tales;140
Like those who sat listening around Apollo's flute,
When the great god, for earth too fertile,
Let his divine essence spill out
In music through the valleys of Thessaly:
Some lazily dragged their sheep-hooks on the ground,
And some created a high, sweet sound
With black-tipped flutes: closely following them,
Now coming from beneath the forest trees,
A respected priest walked solemnly,
Wearing a ministering look: always his gaze150
Steadfastly focused on the matted grass,
And his holy robes swept behind him.
From his right hand hung a milk-white vase,
Filled with mixed wine, sparkling with generous light;
In his left, he held a basket full
Of all sweet herbs that a searching eye could find:
Wild thyme and valley-lilies whiter still
Than Leda's love, and watercress from the stream.
His aged head, crowned with a beech wreath,
Looked like a bunch of ivy in the grip160
Of winter's chill. Then came another group
Of shepherds, raising their voices in time
To join the song. Following them appeared,
Accompanied by a multitude that raised
Their voices to the clouds, a finely crafted cart,
Gliding easily, hardly disturbing
The freedom of three dappled brown steeds:
The one inside seemed of great renown
Among the crowd. His youth was fully developed,
Showing like Ganymede reaching manhood;170
And for those simple times, his clothes were
Like a chief's: beneath his half-bare chest,
A silver bugle hung, and between
His strong knees lay a sharp boar-spear.
A smile lit up his face; to the casual observer,
He seemed like someone dreaming
Of relaxation in Elysian groves:
But some could sense a hidden worry
In his lower lip,
And see that often the reins would slip180
From his forgotten hands: then they'd sigh,
And think of yellow leaves, of owls crying,
Of logs stacked solemnly.–Ah, woe is me,
Why should our young Endymion waste away!

Soon, the group gathered in a circle,
Stood silently around the shrine: each expression turned
To sudden reverence: humble women
Signaled their sons to be quiet; while each cheek
Of youthful bloom grew pale with slight fear.
Endymion too, without a peer among the forest, 190
Stood, wan, and pale, with an awed expression,
Among his fellow hunters of the mountains.
In the midst of all, the venerable priest
Looked at them with joy from the greatest to the least,
And, after lifting his aged hands,
Spoke: "People of Latmos! shepherds!
Who care for a thousand flocks:
Whether you came down from the rocks
That tower over your mountains; whether you hail
From valleys where the music never stops;200
Or from your rolling hills, where the sweet air stirs
Blue hare-bells gently, and where prickly gorse
Blooms lavish gold; or you, whose valuable charge
Grazes their fill at the edge of the sea,
Whose mellow reeds are touched with sad sounds
By the distant echoes of old Triton’s horn:
Mothers and wives! who day by day prepare
The bundle, with essentials, for the mountain air;
And all you gentle girls who raise
Lambs without udders, and in a little cup 210
Will put choice honey for a favored youth:
Yes, everyone pay attention! for truly
Our offerings are needed for our great god Pan.
Are not our lowing heifers shinier than
Night-swollen mushrooms? Are not our wide plains
Dotted with countless fleeces? Have not rains
Greened over April's lap? No howling sorrow
Sickens our fearful ewes; and we have received
Great bounty from Endymion, our lord.
The earth is glad: the cheerful lark has poured 220
His early song against that breezy sky,
That spreads so clearly over our gathering."

So, to sum up, he created a pile
Of rich offerings, igniting sacred flames;
Then he soaked the thick, spongy ground
With wine, to honor the shepherd god.
As the earth absorbed it, and while
Bay leaves crackled in the fragrant heap,
And sticky frankincense sparkled bright
Underneath the smothering parsley, and a hazy light230
Spread softly eastward, a chorus began to sing:

"O you, whose magnificent palace roof hangs
From jagged tree trunks, casting shadows over
Eternal whispers, darkness, and the cycle of
Invisible flowers in deep serenity;
Who loves to see the hamadryads style
Their flowing hair where dark hazels meet;
And through whole solemn hours you sit and listen
To the dreary melody of resting reeds–
In lonely places, where dampness fosters240
The leafy hemlock’s strange overgrowth;
Thinking about how sadly you dreaded
Losing beautiful Syrinx—do you now,
By your love’s soft brow!
By all the trembling paths she ran,
Hear us, great Pan!

"Oh you, for whose calming presence, turtles
Softly coo among the myrtles,
As you roam at twilight
Through sunny meadows bordering the edge250
Of your grassy domains: Oh you, to whom
Broad-leaved fig trees are even now destined
To bear their ripe fruit; yellow-banded bees
Their golden honeycombs; our village fields
Their most beautiful blossoms of beans and poppies;
The cheerful linnet its five unborn chicks,
To sing for you; low-growing strawberries
Their summer coolness; hidden butterflies
Their speckled wings; yes, the fresh budding year
All its fullness–come quickly near,260
By every breeze that stirs the mountain pine,
Oh divine forester!

"You, to whom every fawn and satyr runs
For eager service; whether to catch
The crouching hare while it's dozing;
Or soar up ragged cliffs
To rescue poor lambs from the eagle's claws;
Or, through mysterious charms, lead
Confused shepherds back to their path;
Or to run breathlessly around the churning sea,270
And collect the most whimsical shells
For you to toss into the Naiads' caves,
And, while hidden, laugh at their peeking;
Or to entertain you with playful leaps,
As they throw silvery oak apples and brown fir cones at each other’s heads–
By all the echoes that surround you,
Hear us, O satyr king!

"O Listener to the loud clapping shears,
While time and again to his shorn friends280
A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,
When wild boars rooting up tender corn
Anger our huntsman: Breather around our farms,
To keep away mildew and all bad weather:
Strange bringer of unknown sounds,
That come drifting over hollow grounds,
And fade drearily on barren moors:
Dread opener of the mysterious doors
Leading to universal knowledge–look,
Great son of Dryope,290
The many who have come to pay their respects
With leaves around their brows!

Be still the amazing lodge
For solitary thoughts; such as dodge
Ideas to the very edge of heaven,
Then leave the bare mind: be still the catalyst,
That spreading in this dull and heavy earth
Gives it an ethereal touch—a new birth:
Be still a symbol of vastness;
A sky reflected in a sea;300
An element filling the space in between;
An unknown—but no more: we humbly shield
With raised hands our foreheads, lowly bending,
And giving out a shout most heavenly rending,
Conjure you to receive our humble Pæan,
Upon your Mount Lycean!

Even as they finished their task,
A shout from the entire crowd erupted,
Echoing in the air like the fading rolls
Of sudden thunder, when clusters of dolphins310
Pop their noses out of the sea.
Meanwhile, on cool, shady spots, soft with moss,
Groups of young people started dancing
To the lively sounds of the pipe and strings.
Yes, those beautiful living forms moved gracefully
To tunes long forgotten—out of memory:
Beautiful beings! whose children’s children produced
The heroes of Thermopylæ—not gone,
But still immortal in the ancient statues.
High-born ancestors, unaware, they gathered320
Time’s sweet first offerings—they danced until tired,
And then in peaceful circles pressed
The grassy hilltop, catching the end
Of some mysterious history, powerful enough to lift
A young mind out of its physical shell.
Or they might watch the discus throwers, focused
On either side; feeling pity for the tragic death
Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath
Of Zephyr took his life—Zephyr, now regretful,
Who, before Phœbus rises in the sky,330
Caresses the flower amid the grieving rain.
The archers too, on a broader field,
Beside the feathery whizzing of arrows,
And the dull twang of the bowstring, and the branch
Swaying down from a tall ash,
Called forth a thousand thoughts for those
Who were watching. Perhaps the trembling knee
And frantic stare of lonely Niobe,
Poor, lonely Niobe! when her beautiful young
Were dead and gone, and her comforting voice340
Sat lost on her pale lips,
And overwhelming sorrow pinched
Her motherly cheeks. Awakened from this sad state
By someone who loudly called out from afar,
Lifting his strong bow into the air,
Many might have gazed after brighter visions:
After the Argonauts, in blind wonder
Tossing about on Neptune’s restless waves,
Until, from the horizon’s arching edge,
A golden brilliance shot far and wide,350
Spangling the countless undulations of the sea
With shimmering light: it was a terrifying shine
From Apollo’s exalted bow;
A heavenly signal in their dreary troubles.
Those who were ready for deep reflection
Might turn their steps toward the quiet circle
Where sat Endymion and the aged priest
Among elderly shepherds, whose faces increased
The silvery glow of their mortal star.
There they talked about the fragile barrier360
That separates us from our ethereal homes;
And what our duties are there: to nightly call
Vesper, the beauty-crest of summer skies;
To gather all the fluffiest clouds together
For the sun’s purple resting place; to emulate
In serving the powerful rule of fate
With speed of fire-tailed breath;
To tint her pale cheek with color, who weaves
Sweet poetry by moonlight: in addition to these,
A world of other unimagined tasks.370
Soon they wandered, through divine conversation,
Into Elysium; competing to share
Each one his own anticipated happiness.
One felt absolutely certain that he could not miss
His swiftly departed love, among lovely blossoming branches,
Where each sigh of the breeze endows
Her lips with music for the welcome.
Another wished, in that eternal spring,
To meet his rosy child, with feathery sails,
Gliding, earnestly, through almond valleys:380
Who, suddenly, would bend through the gentle wind,
And with the balmiest leaves crown his temples;
And ever after, through those realms be
His messenger, his little Mercury,
Some thirsted in their souls to again see
Their fellow hunters over the wide plains
In days long past; to sit with them and talk
About all the experiences during their earthly journey;
Comparing joyfully their bountiful stores
Of happiness, to when upon the moors,390
Overwhelmed by night, they huddled together from the cold,
And shared their meager provisions. Thus each shared
Their fond imaginings—except for him
Whose eyelids covered his dimming jewels,
Endymion: yet every hour he struggled
To hide the bitter poison, that had torn
His fading memories. Now indeed
His senses had faded away: he did not notice
The sudden silence, or the soft whispers,
Or the old eyes dissolving in his sorrow,
Or anxious calls, or grasping trembling hands,
Or maiden’s sigh that grief itself preserves:
But in the same fixed trance he remained,
Like one who had never slept on the earth.
Yes, as still as a marble figure,
Frozen in that ancient Arabian tale.

Who whispers to him so softly and closely?
Peona, his sweet sister: of all the people,
His friends, she is the dearest. She made hushing gestures,
And breathed a sister's sorrow to convince410
Him to let go, to rest in her care.
Her words lifted the curse away:
She led him, like a midnight spirit nurse
Of joyful changes in vivid dreams,
Along a path between two little streams,–
Guarding his forehead with her round elbow,
From low branches, and his slow footsteps
From tripping over small stumps and bumps;
Until they reached the spot where these streams flow,
With bubbling sounds and gentle rush,420
Into a river, clear, full, and vibrant
With crystal reflections of the trees and sky.
A small boat, floating nearby,
Pointed its bow over the fringed bank;
And soon it lightly dipped, and rose, and sank,
And dipped again, with the couple's weight,–
Peona guiding, straight through the water,
Towards a leafy island across the way;
Once there, she easily steered
Into a shady, fresh, rippling cove,430
Where there was a cozy arbor, woven
By many quiet summers' touches;
To whose cool embrace she often brought
Her friends, with their needlework,
And songs of memories from times gone by.

She felt a warm happiness watching him relax.
Under the peaceful shade of her favorite bower,
On her own couch, freshly made of flower leaves,
Carefully dried on the cooler side of sheaves
When the sun last shook its autumn locks,440
And the tanned harvesters took their rich bundles.
He soon settled into a deep, restful sleep:
But before it took over, he pressed
Peona's busy hand against his lips,
And still, while sleeping, held her fingertips
In a tender grip. And just like a willow keeps
A patient watch over the stream that slowly winds
By it, so the quiet girl
Held her in peace: so that a whispering blade
Of grass, a wailing gnat, a buzzing bee450
Down in the bluebells, or a wren lightly rustling
Among dry leaves and twigs, could all be heard.

Oh magical sleep! Oh comfy bird,
That hovers over the troubled sea of the mind
Until it’s calm and smooth! Oh boundless
Restraint! Imprisoned freedom! Great key
To golden palaces, strange music,
Grotesque fountains, new trees, sparkling caves,
Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves
And moonlight; yes, to all the intricate world460
Of silvery enchantment! – Who, unfolded
Beneath your drowsy wing a triple hour,
But rejuvenates and lives? – Thus, in the bower,
Endymion was calmed to life again.
Opening his eyelids with a clearer mind,
He said: "I feel your endearing love
All through my chest: you are like a dove
Trembling with closed eyes and sleeked wings
Around me; and the pearliest dew doesn’t bring
Such morning fragrance from the fields of May,470
As do those brighter drops that twinkle stray
From those kind eyes, – the very home and haunt
Of sisterly affection. Can I want
Anything else, anything closer to heaven, than such tears?
Yet dry them up, and banish all fears
That, anymore, I will spend my days
Alone and sad. No, I will once more raise
My voice upon the mountain heights; once more
Make my horn echo from their ancient peaks:
Again my hunting hounds shall let their tongues hang480
Around the caught boar: again I'll trim
The tall yew tree, for a chosen bow:
And, when the pleasant sun is getting low,
Again I'll linger in a sloping meadow
To hear the speckled thrushes, and see our sheep
Feeding idly. So be you cheered sweet,
And, if your lute is here, gently urge
My soul to keep on its determined path."

Here at Peona, at her silver source,
She hid her pure sorrow with a joyful shout,490
And picked up a lute, from which lively sounds
Came pulsing, shaping the way
Her voice would wander. It was a song
With subtler rhythms, more wild like the woods
Than Dryope's gentle lullaby for her child;
And nothing since has floated in the air
So strangely mournful. Surely some rare influence
Flowed, almost spiritual, through the girl’s hands;
For still, with a Delphic grace, she spanned
The quick, invisible strings, even though she saw500
Endymion’s spirit melt away and thaw
In deep intoxication.
But soon she regained her composure, suddenly
Swung the lute aside, and earnestly said: "Brother, it’s pointless to hide
That you know about mysterious things,
Immortal, starry; only such knowledge could
Weigh down your spirit. Have you sinned in some way
Offensive to the heavenly beings? Did you catch
A Paphian dove with a message sent?510
Is your lethal bow aimed at a herd of deer,
Sacred to Diana? Perhaps you have seen
Her naked form among the green alders;
And that, sadly, is death. No, I can sense
Something even more profound troubling your face!"

Endymion looked at her and held her hand tightly,
And said, "Why do you look so pale, when you were so cheerful
And joyful in our meadows? What’s going on?
Tell me what’s wrong: share with me your pain! –
Ah! You’ve been unhappy with the sudden change520
That’s happened to me. What could be stranger?
Or more absolute to shake one’s expectations?
Ambition isn’t lazy: it’s not a prize,
That years of hard work would place within my reach,
That I have longed for: no one has ever panted
For a mortal love like this. So everyone has prioritized my heavier grief
Over these events. They were right to do so:
I, who still saw the sun at the horizon
Heaving its broad shoulders over the world’s edge,530
Confronting Lucifer, and then raised
My spear high, as a signal for the chase –
I, who would race for the pure joy of it
With my own horse from Arabia; snatch down
A vulture from its high perch; intimidate
A lion into retreating with a growl –
To lose it all, all at once, and sink this low! But I will free my heart
Of this hidden sorrow, here in this leafy sanctuary.

"This river doesn't touch the open sky,540
Until it starts to shimmer
Around the western edge of the woods,
Where, from a certain spot, its winding flow
Looks like a crescent moon from afar:
And in that nook, the true pride of June,
Had I been used to spend my tired evenings;
Especially because the sun reluctantly leaves
Such a beloved image of his supreme power,
And I could witness his royal hour,
When he lights up the golden reins,550
And strolls leisurely down amber fields
With his snorting team. Now when his chariot last
Cast its beams against the zodiac lion,
Suddenly a magical bed bloomed
With sacred dittany and red poppies:
I marveled greatly, knowing well
That only one night had created this flowery spell;
And sitting close by, I began to ponder
What it might mean. Perhaps, I thought, Morpheus,
In passing here, shook his little owl wings;560
Or maybe, before matron Night took up
Her dark urn, young Mercury, by stealth,
Had dipped his rod in it: such floral beauty
Did not come from ordinary growth. Thus I mused,
Until my head felt dizzy and confused.
Moreover, through the dancing poppies blew
A breeze, softly lulling my soul;
And shaping visions all around my sight
Of colors, wings, and bursts of twinkling light;
Which became stranger and stranger, dim,
And then were engulfed in a chaotic swim:571
And then I fell asleep. Ah, can I describe
The enchantment that followed?
Yet it was just a dream: yet such a dream
That no tongue, even though it overflows
With rich expression, like a cavern spring,
Could capture and convey
All I beheld and felt. I thought I lay
Watching the zenith, where the Milky Way
Pours among the stars in pure splendor;580
And tracing my gaze until the gates
Of heaven appeared to open for my flight,
I became reluctant and fearful to glance down:
So I kept myself steady in that airy trance,
Spreading imaginary wings wide.
When suddenly, the stars began to glide,
And fade before my eager view:
At which I sighed that I could not follow,
And dropped my gaze to the edge of the horizon;590
And lo! from the opening clouds, I saw emerge
The loveliest moon, that ever silvered over
A shell for Neptune's goblet: she soared
So passionately bright, my dazzled soul
Mixed with her silver spheres as it rolled
Through clear and cloudy, even when she went
At last into a dark and misty tent–
Where I thought all the lidless-eyed train
Of planets were back in the blue.
To commune with those orbs, once more I raised600
My gaze upward: but it was completely dazed
By something bright, sailing down quickly,
Making me quickly shield my eyes and face:
Again I looked, and, O ye deities,
Who from Olympus watch our destinies!
Whence that perfect form of all perfection?
Whence came that high perfection of all sweetness?
Speak, stubborn earth, and tell me where, O where
Do you keep a symbol of her golden hair?
Not oat-sheaves drooping in the western sun;610
Not–your soft hand, fair sister! let me avoid
Such follies before you–yet she had,
Indeed, locks bright enough to drive me mad;
And they were simply tied up and braided,
Leaving, in naked beauty, unshaded,
Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow;
Which were blended in, I know not how,
With such a paradise of lips and eyes,
Blush-tinted cheeks, half smiles, and faintest sighs,
That, when I think about it, my spirit clings620
And plays around with its fancy, until the stings
Of human presence poison it all.
To what terrible power should I call?
To what grand shrine?–Ah! see her hovering feet,
More delicately veined, softer, and whiter
Than those of sea-born Venus, when she rose
From out her cradle shell. The wind curls
Her scarf into a fluttering pavilion;
It's blue, and over-spangled with a million
Of little eyes, as though you were to scatter,630
Over the darkest, richest blue-bell bed,
Handfuls of daisies."–"Endymion, how strange!
Dream within a dream!"–"She took an airy flight,
And then, toward me, like a true maiden,
Came blushing, waning, willing, and afraid,
And took my hand: Ah! it was too much;
I thought I fainted at the enchanted touch,
Yet kept my clarity, just like someone
Who dives three fathoms where the waters run
Gurgling in coral beds: for soon,640
I felt myself lifted in that realm
Where falling stars launch their projectiles,
And eagles wrestle with the buffeting north
That balances the heavy meteor stone;–
I felt too, I was not afraid, nor alone,
But wrapped and lulled along the dangerous sky.
Soon, as it seemed, we left our high journey,
And suddenly swooped into frightful eddies;
Such as often gather where grey time has carved
Huge dens and caverns in a mountain's side:650
There hollow sounds awakened me, and I sighed
To faint once more by looking at my bliss–
I was distracted; madly did I kiss
The wooing arms that held me, and gave
My eyes at once to death: but it was to live,
To take in sips of life from the golden spring
Of kind and passionate looks; to count, and count
The moments, by some greedy help that seemed
A second self, so each could be redeemed
And stripped of its load of bliss.660
Ah, desperate mortal! I even dared to press
Her very cheek against my crowned lip,
And, at that moment, felt my body dip
Into a warmer air: a moment more,
Our feet were soft in flowers. There was plenty
Of newest joys upon that peak. Sometimes
A scent of violets, and blossoming limes,
Lingering around us; then of honey cells,
Made delicate from all white-flower bells;
And once, above the edges of our nest,670
An arch face peeked,–an Oread as I guessed.

"Why did I dream that sleep overwhelmed me?"
In the middle of all this beauty? Why not notice,
From a distance, the dark shadows of his wings,
And push them away? But no, like a spark
That must fade, even though its little light
Reflects on a diamond, my sweet dream
Fell into nothing—into dull sleep.
And so it was, until a soft sound,
A careful movement caught my waking ears,680
And I jumped up: Ah! my sighs, my tears,
My clenched hands;—for look! the poppies hung
Dew-dropped on their stalks, the ouzel sang
A heavy song, and the gloomy day
Had chased the evening star away,
With leaden looks: the lonely breeze
Blustered, then fell silent, teasing itself
With wayward sadness; and I thought,
Listen, Peona! that sometimes it brought
Faint goodbyes and sigh-filled farewells!—690
Away I wandered— all the beautiful colors
Of heaven and earth had faded: the deepest shadows
Felt like dark prisons; heaths and sunny glades
Were filled with sickly light; our pure streams
Seemed sooty, with fish lying dead
On their backs; the red rose had bloomed
In horrifying scarlet, its thorns grown
Like spiked aloe. If an innocent bird
Before my careless steps stirred, and flitted
In little movements, I saw in it700
A disguised demon, sent to entangle
My soul in darkness; to tempt
My stumbling steps down some monstrous cliff:
So I eagerly followed, cursing
The disappointment. Time, that wise nurse,
Rocked me to patience. Now, thank gentle heaven!
These things, with all their comforts, are given
To my weary hours, and with you,
Sweet sister, help to hold back the tide

"Peona! I’ve always wanted to satisfy __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__."770
My thirst for the world's admiration: nothing low,
No merely sleepy illusion, could undo
The stubborn canvas for my journey prepared–
Though now it's tattered; leaving my ship exposed
And sullenly drifting: yet my greater hope
Is of too wide, too rainbow-large a scope,
To fret about countless earthly wrecks.
Where does happiness lie? In what calls
Our willing minds to divine fellowship,
A fellowship with essence; until we shine,780
Fully transformed, and free of space. Behold
The clear religion of heaven! Wrap
A rose leaf around your finger's slimness,
And soothe your lips: hush, when the airy touch
Of music's kiss flows through the free winds,
And with a sympathetic touch releases
Eolian magic from their clear wombs:
Then old songs awaken from shadowy tombs;
Old tunes sigh above their father's grave;
Ghosts of melodious prophecies rave790
Around every spot where Apollo's foot trod;
Bronze trumpets wake, and faintly sound,
Where long ago a giant battle was;
And from the ground, a lullaby passes
In every place where infant Orpheus slept.
Do we feel these things?–in that moment, we have stepped
Into a kind of oneness, and our state
Is like a floating spirit's. But there are
Richer entanglements, traps that are far
More self-destructive, leading, gradually,800
To the ultimate intensity: the crown of these
Is made of love and friendship, and sits high
Upon the forehead of humanity.
All its more substantial and bulky worth
Is friendship, from which there always comes forth
A steady brilliance; but at the very top,
There hangs by an unseen thread, a spherical drop
Of light, and that is love: its influence,
Thrown into our eyes, sparks a new sense,
At which we start and fret; until in the end,810
Melting into its radiance, we blend,
Mingle, and thus become a part of it,–
Nor with anything else can our souls intertwine
So freely: when we combine with it,
Life itself is nourished by its true essence,
And we are nurtured like a pelican's brood.
Yes, so delicious is the insatiable food,
That people, who could have risen above
All the assembled world, to fan
And sift from the coming step of time820
All chaff of habit, wipe away all grime
Left by men-slugs and human serpents,
Have been content to let opportunity pass,
While they slept in love's paradise.
And truly, I would rather be struck dumb,
Than speak against this passionate laziness:
For I have always believed that it might bless
The world with benefits unknowingly;
As does the nightingale, perched high,
And sheltered among cool and clustered leaves–830
She sings only for her love, nor ever thinks
How tiptoe Night holds back her dark-grey hood.
Just so may love, although it’s understood
The mere mingling of passionate breath,
Produce more than our searching reveals:
What I do not know: but who, of men, can tell
That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell
To juicy pulp, that fish would wear bright scales,
The earth its gifts of river, wood, and valley,
The meadows brooks, brooks tiny stones,840
The seed its harvest, or the lute its tones,
Tones of enchantment, or enchantment its sweetness,
If human souls did never kiss and greet?

"Now, if this earthly love can create
People's mortal lives feel immortal; to shake
Ambition from their memories, and fill
Their lives with happiness; what a small whim,
This poor attempt for fame seems to be,
To someone who holds a steadfast goal
Of immortal love, which is also immortal.850
Don’t look so bewildered; for these things are true,
And can never come from atoms
That buzz around our dreams, like brain flies,
Leaving us feeling dizzy. No, I'm sure,
My restless spirit could never bear
To dwell so long on one pleasure,
Unless it could, though fearfully, see
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
My words will seem less obscured,
When I've told you how my waking sight860
Has made me question whether that same night
Was just a dream. Listen, sweet Peona!
Beyond the temple of Latona,
Which we would see if it weren't for these dark branches,
Lies a deep hollow, from whose ragged edges
Bushes and trees lean all around,
Meeting so closely that with wings outstretched,
And spread tail, a vulture couldn’t glide
Past them without brushing on every side.
Some crumbling steps lead into this cool space,870
As far as the flat edge of a well,
Whose calm surface reflects its crystal eye
Straight up, through the bushes, to the sky.
Often I’ve brought you flowers, set on their stalks
Like sacred primroses, but dark velvet
Edges them all around, and they have golden centers:
I got them from the gaps and cracks
In a mossy stone, which was sometimes my seat,
When all above was weary from the midday heat.
And there in the struggle, with no burning thoughts to heed,880
I'd let water bubble up through a reed;
So reaching back to childhood: make me little ships
Of shed feathers, dry wood, alder chips,
With leaves stuck in them; and Neptune can be
Their tiny ocean. More often, heavily,
When love-sick hours left me less a child,
I sat contemplating the wild shapes
Of clouds overhead melting in the mirror of the sky.
One day, while watching like this, a cloudy Cupid flew by,
With his bow and quiver;890
So clearly depicted, no breeze would disturb
This happy chance: so happy, I was eager
To follow it across the open field,
And just as I was about to go; then, behold!
A wonder, as beautiful as any I’ve told—
The same bright face I saw in my sleep,
Smiling in the clear well. My heart leaped
Through the cool depths. It moved as if to flee—
I started up, when suddenly,
There fell upon my face, in plentiful showers,900
Dew-drops, and dewy buds, and leaves, and flowers,
Wrapping all things from my blurred sight,
Bathing my spirit in a new joy.
Ah, such a breathless, sweet sense of bliss
Alone saved me from the dreary abyss
Of death, for the beautiful form had gone again.
Pleasure often visits us; but pain
Clings cruelly, like the gnawing sloth
On a young deer’s tender side: late, and reluctant,
It is frightened away by slowly returning pleasure.910
How sickening, how dark the dreadful stretches
Of weary days, made more exquisite,
By the anticipation of sleepless night!
Like sorrow, it weighed upon me, even heavier,
Than when I wandered from the poppy hill:
And an entire age of lingering moments dragged
By slowly, before more joy swept
Away at once the deadly bad mood.
Yes, I have seen this beautiful enchantment thrice;
Once more I was tortured with renewed life.920
When last the winter winds gave up their fight
With the conquering sun of spring, and left the skies
Warm and calm, yet still with moist eyes
In sympathy for the shattered baby buds,–
That time you adorned, with amber studs,
My hunting cap, because I laughed and smiled,
Chatted with you, and many days banished
All torment from my chest;–it was then,
Wandering about, yet trapped in the den
Of helpless discontent,–throwing my lance930
From place to place, and following at random,
At last, by chance, through some young trees it struck,
And, splashing among bedded pebbles, became stuck
In the middle of a brook,–whose silver stream
Danced down twenty little falls, through reeds and bramble,
Tracing along, it brought me to a cave,
From which it flowed brightly forth, and white did wash
The lower sides of mossy stones and rock,–
Among which it gurgled cheerful goodbyes, to mock
Its own sweet sorrow at parting. Above,940
Hung a lush scene of drooping weeds, spread
Thick, as if to curtain some wood-nymph's home.
"Ah! wicked mortal, where do I roam?"
I said, quietly: "Ah, where! It’s the grotto
Of Proserpine, when Hell, dark and hot,
Lets her go; and where her gentle hands
Play in the cool and muddy sands:
Or it’s Echo's cell, where she sits,
And murmurs through silence, until her wits
Are lost in tender madness, and then,950
Faints into sleep, with many a dying tone
Of sadness. O that she would accept my vows,
And breathe them softly among the branches,
To beg her gentle ears for whose fair head,
Daily, I pluck sweet flowers from their bed,
And weave them sadly–send honey-whispers
Around every leaf, that all those gentle whispers
May sigh my love to her in pity!
O kind echo! hear, and sing
This song to her!–tell her"–so I paused960
My foolish tongue, and listening, half afraid,
Stood stunned by my own empty folly,
And blushing for the whims of melancholy.
Salt tears were coming, when I heard my name
Most lovingly spoken, and then these words came:
"Endymion! the cave is more secret
Than the isle of Delos. Echo here shall stir
No sighs but kisses warm as sighs, or soft sounds
Of your combing hand, while it travels and touches
And trembles through my tangled hair."970
At that, feeling overwhelmed, I hurried in.–Ah! where
Are those quick moments? Where have they fled?
I'll smile no more, Peona; nor will I marry
Sorrow as the path to death; but patiently
Withstand it: so farewell, sad sigh;
And instead come gentle meditation,
To take me fully, and to shape
My journey for the world’s dark edge.
No more will I count over, link by link,
My chain of grief: no longer strive to find980
A half-forgetfulness in mountain winds
Rushing around my ears: yes, you will see,
Dearest of sisters, what my life will be;
What a calm flow of hours will shape my days.
There is a faint flame of hope that dances
Wherever I look: but still, I’ll say it’s nothing–
And here I let it die. Have I not caught,
Already, a healthier expression?
By now the sun is setting; we might meet
Some of our nearby neighbors with my car."990

That said, he got up, faintly smiling like a star.
Through autumn fog, and took Peona's hand:
They stepped into the boat and pushed off from shore.

BOOK 2.

O mighty power of love! O sorrow! O comfort!
All memories, except yours, feel cool and calm,
And shadowy, through the mist of past years:
For others, whether good or bad, hatred and tears
Have become dull; but when it comes to yours,
One sigh echoes, one little sob lingers,
One kiss brings sweet memories from the past.
The troubles of Troy, towers smothered in flames,
Stiff shields, long-ranging spears, sharp blades,
Struggles, blood, and screams—all dimly fade10
Into some far-off corner of the mind;
Yet, in our very souls, we still deeply
Feel the ending of Troilus and Cressida sweet.
So, away with history’s show! Away with empty glamour!
Murky planet in the universe of deeds!
Vast sea, that creates a constant murmur
Along the pebbled shore of memory!
Many old, rotting boats lie there
On your misty surface, enlarged
To grand vessels; many proud sails,20
And beautifully-keel’d, are left unlaunched and dry.
But why is this? What does it matter if an owl flew
Around the great Athenian admiral's mast?
What does it matter if striding Alexander crossed
The Indus with his Macedonian troops?
Though old Ulysses woke the gluttonous Cyclops,
What does it matter?—Juliet leaning
Amid her window flowers, sighing, weaning
Tenderly her dream from its innocent snow,
Means more than these: the silver flow30
Of Hero's tears, the fainting of Imogen,
Fair Pastorella in the bandit's lair,
Are things to reflect on with more passion
Than the fall of empires. Fearfully
Must such a realization weigh heavily
On someone who, thus far unhappy, has dared to tread,
Without one muse’s smile, or kind encouragement,
The path of love and poetry. But rest,
In restless discomfort, is even more dreary
Than being crushed, while trying to uphold40
Love's banner on the walls of song.
So once again, day and night, help me along,

Gently, this small messenger flew up,
Followed by happy Endymion's clasped hands:
Onward it goes. From languor's heavy grasp
His limbs are free, and eagerly he moves
Dazzled to trace it in the sunny skies.
It seemed he flew; the path was so easy;70
And like a new-born spirit he passed
Through the green evening calm in the sun,
Over many heathlands, through many woods,
Through hidden paths, where sleepy twilight dreams
The summertime away. One path reveals
A wooded cleft, and far away, the blue
Of ocean fades from view; then, again,
He sinks down into a lonely glen,
Where there had never been the sound of men,
Except, perhaps, some soft echoes80
Fading to silence, when on the breeze
Some holy vessel sang a sweet anthem,
To cheer itself to Delphi. Still, his feet
Went swiftly beneath the joyful, winged guide,
Until it reached a splashing fountain's side
That, near a cavern's mouth, forever poured
Into the gentle air: then high it soared,
And suddenly began to dip,
As if, thirsty from so much toil, it’d sip
The crystal spout-head: so it did, with touch90
Most delicate, as if afraid to soil
Even with golden dust the waters clear.
But, at that very touch, to disappear
So fairy-quick was strange! Bewildered,
Endymion searched around and shook each bed
Of hidden flowers in vain; then he threw
Himself down on the grass. What gentle voice,
What whisper disturbed his gloomy rest?
It was a nymph rising to the waist
In the fountain's pebbly edge, and she stood100
Among lilies, like the youngest of the group.
To him her dripping hand she softly kissed,
And anxiously began to twist and braid
Her ringlets round her fingers, saying: "Young man!
Too long, alas, you have starved on the pain,
The bitterness of love: far too long indeed,
Considering you are so gentle. If I could clear
Your soul of worry, heavens, I’d give
All the bright treasures of my crystal hoard
To Amphitrite; all my clear-eyed fish,110
Golden, or rainbow-colored, or purplish,
With vermilion tails, or fins of silver;
Yes, or my veined pebble floor, that draws
A virgin light to the deep; my grotto sands
Tawny and gold, slowly oozed from far lands
By my diligent springs; my smooth lilies, shells,
My charming rod, my powerful river spells;
Yes, everything, even to the pearly cup
Meander gave me, – for I bubbled up
To fainting creatures in a wild desert.120
But woe is me, I am but like a child
To bring you joy; and all I dare to say,
Is, that I feel for you; that on this day
I've been your guide; that you must wander far
In other places, past the narrow bar
To mortal steps, before you can be taken
From every heavy sigh, from every ache,
Into the gentle embrace of your love.
Why it is this way, one knows in heaven above:
But, as a poor Naiad, I do not know. Farewell!130
I have a song for my hollow cave."

At this moment, she vanished from Endymion's view,
Who stared at the water in disbelief:
The splashing fountain kept flowing, and where its pool
Lay, half asleep, among the cool grass and reeds,
Quick water bugs and gnats were still playing,
And fish were breaking the surface, as if nothing good or bad
Had happened that hour. The wanderer,
Holding his forehead to block out the burden
Of overwhelming thoughts, patiently sat down;140
And, while beneath the evening's sleepy glare
Glow-worms began to light their tiny lamps,
He breathed to himself: "Whoever sets up camp
To capture a dreamed city of pleasure,
Oh, what a wretch he is! And when he finally has it,
After all his hard work and travel, to discover
The essence of his hopes is missing, how terrible:
Yet, even in labor, he finds refreshment;
He starts on another city,
Free from even the tiniest doubt150
That he will grab sweet treasure:
But alas, he finds it empty; and then he rages,
And hurries on to another city.
But this is human life: the battles, the actions,
The disappointments, the worries,
Imagination’s struggles, near and far,
All human; holding within themselves this good,
That they are still the air, the subtle nourishment,
To make us feel alive, and to show
How peaceful death is. Where there’s soil, men grow,160
Whether as weeds or flowers; but for me,
There’s no depth to dig into: I can see
Nothing earthly worth my pursuit; so I stand
Upon a misty, jutting cliff—
Alone? No, no; and by the Orphean lute,
When mad Eurydice is listening to it;
I’d rather stand on this misty peak,
With nothing to sigh for or to seek,
But the soft shadow of my three-time-seen love,
Than be—I don’t care what. Oh, meekest dove170
Of heaven! Oh Cynthia, ten times bright and fair!
From your blue throne, now filling all the air,
Just glance one little beam of gentle light
Into my heart, so the dreadful might
And tyranny of love can be somewhat eased!
Yet don’t do that, sweet queen; one spared torment,
Would bring pain to jealous misery,
Worse than the torment itself: but rather give
Me large wings on my shoulders, and show me
My love’s distant home. Although the playful throng180
Of Cupids avoid you, too divine you are,
Too sharp in beauty, for your silver prow
Not to have dipped in love’s gentlest stream.
Oh, be kind, nor harshly judge
My madness as sinful; for, by all the stars
That follow your command, I believe the chains
That held my spirit captive are broken—that I
Am sailing with you through the dizzy sky!
How beautiful you are! How deep the world is!
How dazzlingly the wheels spin190
Around their axle! Then these shining reins,
How flexible! When this chariot of yours reaches
Its airy destination, perhaps some bower hides
Those twilight eyes?—Those eyes!—my spirit fades—
Dear goddess, help! Or the wide-open air
Will swallow me—help!"—At this, with a crazed stare,
And raised hands, and trembling lips he stood;
Like old Deucalion rising above the flood,
Or blind Orion hungry for dawn.
And, if it weren’t for the deep cavern, a voice came,200
He would have been frozen to senseless stone;
No sigh from him, nor complaint, nor passionate moan
Had been heard anymore. Then it swelled forth: "Descend,
Young mountaineer! descend where paths twist
Into the sparkling hollows of the earth!
You’ve often seen bolts of thunder hurled
From your doorway; day by day you’ve been
A little lower than the chilly sheen
Of icy peaks, and dipped your arms
Into the numbing ether that still enchants210
Their marble existence: now, as deeply profound
As those are high, descend! He who never fears
To follow where airy voices lead, is the one crowned
With immortality: so through the hollow,
The silent mysteries of earth, descend!"

He only heard the last few words and couldn't argue back.
For a moment, he paused to think: then he ran
Into the frightening darkness, wanting to escape
From the bright moon, the trees, and the approaching madness.

It was way too strange and amazing to feel sad;
Gradually sharpening his appetite221
To dive into the deepest. Neither dark nor light,
The region; neither bright nor entirely gloomy,
But mixed together; a shimmering melancholy;
A shadowy realm and its crowns;
One faint eternal twilight of gems.
Yes, millions sparkled on a vein of gold,
Along whose path the prince's quick footsteps echoed,
With all its abrupt and angular lines:
At times shooting out, like a shooting star,230
Through a vast cave; then the metal fabric,
Like Vulcan's rainbow, with some monstrous ceiling
Curving huge: now, deep in the abyss,
It resembles an angry lightning, and hisses
Imagination into belief: then it leads
Through winding paths, where sameness creates
Frustrating ideas of some sudden change;
Whether to silver caves, or a giant range
Of sapphire columns, or a fantastic bridge
Across a flood of crystal. On a ridge240
Now he travels, towering over the vast below
Like an ocean cliff, from which he sees
A hundred waterfalls, whose voices come
Only as the murmuring waves. Chilly and numb
His heart became, when he first, far away,
Spotted a round diamond, meant to chase away
Old darkness from its throne: it was like the sun
Rising over chaos: and with such a shock
Came the amazement, that, absorbed in it,
He did not notice fiercer wonders–beyond the understanding250
Of any spirit to tell, only one of those
Who, when this planet's time comes to an end,
Will be its great rememberers: who are they?
The mighty ones who have created eternal day
For Greece and England. While astonishment
With deep sighs was calming, he entered
A marble gallery, passing through
A lifelike temple, so complete and true
In sacred custom, that he nearly feared
To search it deeply; from which far away appeared,260
Through a long columned vista, a beautiful shrine,
And, just beyond, on light tiptoe divine,
A poised Diana. Stepping carefully,
The youth approached; often turning his veiled eyes
Down side aisles, and into old niches.
And when, closer against the marble cold
He touched his forehead, he began to wander
All courts and passages, where silence dead
Roused by his whispering footsteps murmured faint:
And he wandered back and forth, to learn270
Every mystery, and awe;
Until, weary, he sat down before the mouth
Of a wide exit, unfathomable and dim
To wild uncertainty and dark shadows.
There, when new wonders ceased to shimmer before,
And thoughts of self emerged, how rough and sore
The journey homeward to habitual self!
A mad chase after the fog-born elf,
Whose flickering lantern, through rough nettle-briar,
Tricks us into a swamp, into a fire,280
Into the embrace of a hated thing.

What misery resonates so deeply
In lonely Endymion's ear, now that he's grasped
The essence of being? Oh, it's the thought,
The heavy weight of solitude: for look!
He can't see the stars, nor the rivers' flow,
Nor wildflowers blooming in pink and purple,
Nor the clouds drifting slowly in the west,
Like a herd of elephants; nor felt, nor pressed290
Cool grass, nor tasted the refreshing, dreamy air;
But far from such company to endure
An unknown time, burdened with sorrow, was now
His fate. And must he patiently stay,
Tracing strange patterns with his spear?
"No!" he exclaimed, "why should I linger here?"
No! echoed loudly countless times.
At that, he immediately stood up and began to trace
His steps back towards the main temple;
Growing stronger in the belief300
Of help from Diana: so that when again
He caught sight of her ethereal form, he lamented,
Drawing closer as he spoke. "Oh pure spirit
Of riverbanks, and woods, and wild heath,
Where with your silver bow and sharp arrows
Are you now hidden? Oh woodland Queen,
What soft breeze caresses your smooth face?
Where do you hear the loud calls
Of your scattered nymphs? Through what dark tree
Does your crescent glow? Wherever it is,310
It's in the breath of the sky: you experience
Freedom like no one else can, and you don't waste
Your beauty in bleak surroundings;
But finding sweet satisfaction in our green earth,
There you live blissfully. Ah, if to you
It feels heavenly, how rich it sounds to me,
An exiled mortal, its pleasant name!
Within my heart, a suffocating flame lives—
Oh let me cool it among the gentle branches!
A fever for home parches my tongue—320
Oh let me quench it at the flowing springs!
In my chariot, a noisy void rings—
Oh let me once more hear the song of the linnet!
Before my eyes thick veils and shadows float—
Oh let me cleanse them with the light of the heavens!
Are you now washing your feet and white ankles?
Oh think how sweet the refreshing stream would be!
Are you now satisfying your thirst with berry juice?
Oh think how this dry mouth would rejoice!
If in soft sleep you hear my voice,330
Oh think how much I would love a bed of flowers!–
Young goddess! let me see my native groves!
Save me from this greedy deep!"

So he finished loudly, almost as if he were trying to jump over.
His fate, standing alert: but when
The stubborn silence returned heavily again,
Searching for its old space and airy cradle,
He bowed his face low,
Feeling defeated, over the cold thrill of the marble floor.
But it didn't last long; for, sweeter than the stream340
Returning to its old channel, or a swollen tide
Reaching the margins of willows, were the leaves he found,
And flowers, and wreaths, and ready myrtle crowns
Piling up through the slab: refreshment drowns
Itself, trying to hide its own delights–
Not just in one place; the floral beauty
Grew enchantingly in a soft whispering birth
Before his steps; like when the renewed
Old ocean rolls a stretched wave to the shore,
Down whose green back the short-lived foam, all white,
Gradually breaks, with a lazy indifference.351

His heart racing and feeling great,
He hurried on his enchanted journey;
So eager for the destination, he hardly spends
A moment with his hand among the treats:
He moves ahead—stops—his heart pounding
As clearly in his ear as the faint charm
From which those beats were created. This constant pull,
This lullaby, made him walk on tiptoes:
For it was softer than the east wind could blow360
Arion's magic to the Atlantic islands;
Or than the west, envious of the smiles
Of crowned Apollo, could send back the lyre
To the Ionian and Tyrian seas.

Oh, did that lonely man ever truly live,
Who loved—and music didn’t kill? It’s the curse
Of love, that the most beautiful joys bring the most unrest;
That things of the most delicate and tender value
Are completely consumed, leaving a barren wasteland,
By one all-consuming fire: it drowns370
And suffocates real blessings with a curse.
Half-happy, when compared to true bliss,
Is miserable. It was the same with this
Dew-dropping melody, in the Carian's ear;
First heaven, then hell, and then forgotten completely,
Vanished in elemental passion.

And he had descended into a dark abyss,
Had not a kind heavenly guide led
Him to where thick myrtle branches brushed against his head,
Waking him: then the sounds again380
Went silent like a passing noontide rain
Over a shelter, where he stood in a small space;
For as the sunset peeks into a forest,
So he saw soft light, and towards it went
Through winding paths; and behold, amazement!
On soft grass, he saw, one here, one there,
Cupids sleeping on their fair wings.

After wandering through a thousand mazes,
Finally, with a sudden step, he stumbled upon
A room, surrounded by myrtle walls, set high,390
Filled with light, incense, gentle music,
And much more that was beautiful and strange:
For on a silky couch of rosy elegance,
In the center of it all, lay a sleeping youth
Of the deepest beauty; more cherished, truly,
Than sighs could measure, or happiness attain:
And covers, gold-tinted like a peach,
Or the faded marigolds of October,
Fell smoothly around him in a thousand folds–
Not obscuring an Apollonian curve400
Of neck and shoulder, nor the gentle curve
Of one knee from the other, nor his lightly pointed ankles;
But instead, revealing them to the eye
Obligingly. His face rested sideways
On one white arm, and gently unlocked,
By the softest touch, a faintly colored mouth
Into a slumberous pout; just as the morning south
Parts a dew-kissed rose. Above his head,
Four lily stalks wove their white honors together
To create a crown; and around him grew410
All green tendrils, of every bloom and hue,
Intertwined and fresh:
The vine with glossy sprouts; the ivy mesh,
Casting shadows with its dark berries; and woodbine,
With velvet leaves and divine bugle blooms;
Convolvulus in streaked vases bright;
The creeper, maturing for an autumn blush;
And virgin's bower, trailing gracefully;
Along with others of its kind. Nearby,
Stood serene Cupids watching quietly.420
One, kneeling to a lyre, touched the strings,
Muffling the emotion with his wings;
And now and then, he looked up
At the youth's slumber; while another took
A willow branch, dripping fragrant dew,
And sprinkled it on his hair; another flew
In through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise
Rained violets upon his sleeping eyes.

At these wonders and many others,
The breathless Latmian marveled again and again;430
Until, feeling embarrassed and impatient,
He quickly moved on and walked lightly
To that same feathered musician, who immediately,
Smiling, whispered: "Even though you're a wanderer from the daylight,
And your presence here may seem inappropriate, be happy!
For it's the most delicate act of human honor,
When some ethereal and benevolent giver
Offers eternal delights to the senses of mortals;
As it is now done for you, Endymion. Therefore440
I wasn’t surprised at all. So recline
On these lively flowers. Here is wine,
Alive with bubbles—never, I assure you,
Since Ariadne was a winemaker,
Have you tasted such a cool purple: try these juicy pears,
Sent to me by sad Vertumnus, when his worries
Were high about Pomona: here is cream,
Rich and deepening from a snowy shine;
Sweeter than what nurse Amalthea skimmed
For the boy Jupiter: and here, untouched450
By any hand, is a cluster of blooming plums
Ready to melt between an infant's gums:
And here is manna picked from Syrian trees,
In starlight, by the three Hesperides.
Feast on, and in the meantime, I will let you know
About all these things around us." He did so,
Still lost in the rhythm of his lyre;
And thus: "I need not tire you with stories
Of how the sea-born goddess pined
For a mortal youth, and how she tried to bind460
Him completely to her yearning self.
Who wouldn't want to be so trapped? But, foolish elf,
He was content to let her loving plea
Fade through his carefree arms; satisfied to see
A paradise untaken dying at his feet;
Content, oh fool! to make a cold retreat,
When on the pleasant grass such love, lovelorn,
Lay sorrowful; when every tear was born
Of different emotions; when her lips and eyes
Were closed in sullen wetness, and quick sighs470
Came vexed and complaining through her small nostrils.
Hush! no outcry—yet, you could rightly call
Curses upon his head. I was half-glad,
But my poor mistress went distraught and mad,
When the boar tusked him: so away she flew
To Jove's high throne, and by her laments drew
Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer's beard;
Whereon, it was decreed he should be raised
Each summer to life. Behold! this is he,
That same Adonis, safe in the privacy480
Of this still region through his winter sleep.
Yes, sleep; for when our love-sick queen wept
Over his faded corpse, the trembling shower
Healed the wound, and, with a soothing power,
Medicined death to a prolonged drowsiness:
Which she fills with visions, and dresses
In all this quiet luxury; and has set
Us young immortals, without any hindrance,
To watch over his rest. It’s nearly passed,
Even to a moment’s completion, and quickly490
She rushes with summer breezes, to catch her breath
For the first long kiss, warm firstling, to renew
Enchanted play in Cytherea's isle.
Look! how those winged listeners all this while
Stand anxious: see! behold!"–This loud word
Broke through the careful silence; for they heard
A rustling noise of leaves, and out there fluttered
Pigeons and doves: Adonis muttered something,
As one hand, which had previously laid still on his thigh,
Moved convulsively and gradually500
Up to his forehead. Then there was a hum
Of sudden voices, echoing, "Come! come!
Arise! awake! Clear summer has emerged
Into the clover meadow, and she has spoken
Softly to every nested finch:
Rise, Cupids! or we’ll pinch your dimpled arms
With bluebells. Sweet life begins again!"
At this, from every side they hurried in,
Rubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrists,
And doubling their little fists510
In yawns. But all were soon awake:
For as delicious wine sparkles and dives
In nectar clouds and curls through clear water,
So from the arbour roof down surged an air
Fragrant and invigorating; making all
Laugh, play, sing, and loudly call
For their sweet queen: when lo! the wreathed green
Parted, and far upward could be seen
Blue heaven, and a silver chariot, floating,
Whose silent wheels, freshly wet from morning clouds,
Spun off a drizzling dew, which falling cool521
On soft Adonis’ shoulders, made him still
Nestle and turn uneasily around.
Soon the white doves appeared, necks stretched out,
And silken trails lightened in descent;
And soon, returning from love’s banishment,
Queen Venus leaned downward, arms open wide:
Her shadow fell upon his chest, and enchanted
A tumult in his heart, and a new life
In his eyes. Ah, miserable struggle,530
If not for her comfort! unhappy sight,
But meeting her blue eyes! Who, who can write
Of these first moments? The least inspired muse
Would make excuses for embraces warm as theirs.

Oh, it has awakened every spirit there,
Except for love itself, who stands tall to share
The general happiness: he stands awfully;
A sovereign calm is in his waving hands;
No one can withstand the flash of his bow;
His quiver is a mystery, and nobody knows540
What they think of it; from his eyes
Strange light shoots out in various colors and shades:
Sometimes a frown is on his brow, but anyone who
Looks directly at it soon feels the blue
Of his beautiful eyes flow liquid through their souls.
Endymion feels it, and can no longer hold back
The burning prayer inside him; so, bent down,
He begins to lament his sorrow.
But Venus, leaning forward, says: "My child,
Bless this gentle youth; his days are wild550
With love—he—but alas! I can see all too clearly
You know the depth of his misery.
Ah, do not smile so, my son: I tell you the truth,
That when through heavy hours I used to regret
The endless sleep of this new-born Adonis,
I pitied this stranger. For one dreary morning
I fled into the breezy clouds to weep and pray
For my love: for annoying Mars had teased
Me to tears: then, when I felt a little relief,560
Looking down, vacant, through a hazy wood,
I saw this youth standing there in despair:
Those same dark curls blown about in the wind;
Those full, fringed eyelids constantly blinding
His sullen eyes: I saw him throw
Himself onto withered leaves, as though
Death had come suddenly; for he did not move,
Yet muttered wildly. I could hear he loved
Some beautiful immortal, and that his embrace
Had surrounded her throughout the night. There is no trace570
Of this in heaven: I have marked each cheek,
And I find it is the most futile thing to search;
And of all things, it is kept the most secret.
Endymion! one day you will be blessed:
So continue to follow the guiding hand that protects
You safely through these wonders for sweet purposes.
It’s a necessary concealment in the extreme;
And if I didn’t think so, you would rise up to the sunny beam
With me. Now goodbye!
Here we must leave you."–At these words, up flew580
The impatient doves, up rose the floating chariot,
Up went the heavenly hum. Far away,
The Latmian saw them shrink into nothing;
And when they had all vanished completely, he still caught
A vivid flash from that dreadful bow.
When everything darkened, with a shudder from Etna
The earth closed—gave a solitary moan—
And left him once again in lonely twilight.

He didn’t panic, he didn’t look on in disbelief,
Because all those visions were behind him, gone,590
And he was alone: he felt sure
Of happy times, when everything he had endured
Would feel like nothing compared to the great prize.
So, with unusual joy, he moved on
Through caves and palaces of colorful ore,
Golden domes, crystal walls, and turquoise floors,
Dark polished porticos casting deep shadows,
And finally, a diamond railing,
Leading far past wild magnificence,
Winding through the roughest openings, and then600
Stretching across a vast emptiness, guiding over
Enormous chasms, where, all bubbling and roaring,
Subterranean streams teased their granite beds;
Then rising just above the silvery heads
Of a thousand fountains, so he could splash
The waters with his spear; but with a careless splash,
Those shooting columns suddenly reached
The height of a poplar and began to enclose
His diamond path with intricate designs, streaming around
Alive, and dazzlingly cool, with a sound,610
Perhaps like the noisy dolphins, when sweet shells
Welcome the float of Thetis. He lingered
In this delight; for every moment,
The streams intertwined with changing magic:
Sometimes like the most delicate lattices,
Covered with crystal vines; then weeping trees,
Moving as if in a gentle breeze,
Which, in an instant, turned into watery curtains,
Poured into shapes of canopy drapes,
Spangled and rich with liquid decorations620
Of flowers, peacocks, swans, and fair naiads.
Faster than lightning went these rare wonders;
And then the water, gathering into stubborn streams
Mimicked the carved oak beams,
Pillars, friezes, and high fantastic roofs,
Of those dark places from far-off times
Called cathedrals. He reluctantly said goodbye
To these changing springs, passing abysses and valleys,
And torrents, and countless jutting shapes,
Half seen through deepest gloom, and terrifying gaps,630
Blackening on every side, with overhead
A vaulted dome like Heaven’s, far spread
With starlight gems: yes, all so huge and strange,
The solitary felt a hurried change
Working within him into something dreary,–
Disturbed like a morning eagle, lost, and weary,
And blind amid foggy, midnight fields.
But he revived at once: for who sees
New sudden things, and doesn’t shake off their weight?
From a rugged arch, in the dimness below,640
Came mother Cybele! alone–alone–
In a somber chariot; dark folds thrown
Around her majesty, her face deathly pale,
With turrets crowned. Four maned lions pulled
The heavy wheels; solemn their jagged jaws,
Their brooding eyes hidden by brows, heavy paws
Uplifted sleepily, and muscular tails
Curling their tawny tips. This shadowy queen silently glides
Across, then fades away

It was a jasmine corner, completely covered
With golden moss. Every sense he had was heightened
With pleasure; above his head
Floated a joy just out of reach; his steps
Were like those of the evening star; to his attentive ears
Silence was music from the holy realms;
A dewy luxury sparkled in his eyes;
The little flowers responded to his gentle sighs
And stirred ever so slightly. He wandered through
Lush caves and cells, often marveling at such
A sudden lift in spirit: but, "Alas!"
He said, "will all this flood of feeling fade
Away in loneliness? And must they disappear,
Like melodies on a barren plain,
Without an echo? Then I will be left
So sad, so melancholic, so alone!
Yet I still feel immortal! Oh my love,
My breath of life, where are you? High above,
Dancing before the morning gates of heaven?690
Or watching among those seven stars,
Old Atlas' children? Are you a water nymph,
One of shell-crowned Triton's beautiful daughters?
Or are you, impossibly! a nymph of Diana,
Weaving a crown of delicate flowers
For sheer idleness? Wherever you are,
I feel it is now within my power to leap
Into your arms; to disturb Aurora's train,
And snatch you from the morning; across the sea
To fly like a wild bird, and take you away700
From your sea-foam cradle; or to take off
Your shepherd's dress, and woo you among fresh leaves.
No, no, too eagerly my soul deceives
Its powerless self: I know this cannot be.
Oh let me then by some sweet dreaming escape
To her enchantments: come, sleep for a while!
Come, most gentle sleep! and soothe
For just a few hours the coming solitude."

So he spoke, and in that moment felt
Filled with the power to dream beautifully; so he wandered710
Through a shadowy path, searching until he found
The softest mossy spot and deepest, where
He lay down, and just into the air
Stretching his lazy arms, he took, oh bliss!
A bare waist: "Fair Cupid, where is this?"
A familiar voice sighed, "Sweetest, here I am!"
At this soft delight, with loving cries
They trembled towards each other.–Helicon!
Oh fountain hill! Old Homer's Helicon!
That you would pour a little stream over720
These pitiful pages; then the verse would rise
And sing above this gentle couple, like a lark
Over its nested young: but all is dark
Around your ancient peak, and your clear spring
Exhales in mists to heaven. Yes, the count
Of great Poets is complete; the scroll
Is folded by the Muses; the bright roll
Is in Apollo's hand: our dazed eyes
Have seen a new tint in the western skies:
The world has done its duty. Yet, oh yet,730
Although the sun of poetry has set,
These lovers embraced, and we must weep
That there is no old power left to soak
An immortal pen in their joyful tears.
For a long time in silence did their anxious fears
Question if this was how it was; for a long time they lay
Fondling and kissing every doubt away;
For a long time before soft sobs began
To soften into words, and then there flowed
Two bubbling streams of conversation from their sweet lips.740
"O known Unknown! from whom my being sips
Such darling essence, why can't I be
Forever in these arms? in this sweet place
Pillow my chin forever? ever press
These playful hands and kiss their smooth excess?
Why not forever and ever feel
That breath around my eyes? Ah, you will steal
Away from me again, truly, truly–
You will be gone, and will not care
About my lonely madness. Speak, my kindest fair!750
Is it really to be so? No! Who will dare
To take you away from me? And, of your own will,
I can feel you wouldn’t leave me. Still
Let me hold you tighter, tighter–now
How can we part? Elysium! who are you?
Who, that you can’t be forever here,
Or lift me with you to some starry place?
Enchantress! tell me with this soft embrace,
By the softest features of your face,
Those lips, oh slippery joys, twinkling eyes,760
And by these tender, milky comforts–
These soft comforts, and by the nectar-wine,
The passion"—"Oh loved Ida the divine!
Endymion! dear! Ah, unhappy me!
His soul will escape us–oh happiness!
How he loves me! His poor temples beat
To the very rhythm of love–how sweet, sweet, sweet.
Revive, dear youth, or I shall faint and die;
Revive, or these soft hours will rush by
In a spellbound dullness; speak, and let that magic770
Drive away this drowsiness! I cannot bear
Its heavy weight, and will at least
Press my lips to yours, so that we can savor
Until we feel the life of love again.
What! do you move? do you kiss? Oh bliss! Oh pain!
I love you, youth, more than I can grasp;
And such a long absence from you has robbed
My soul of all rest: yet I must leave:
Yet, I cannot raise you to starry heights
Nor for shame can I admit780
Myself to you. Ah, dearest, do not sigh
Or you will pull me from this secrecy,
And I must blush in heaven. Oh that I
Had already done it; that the dreadful smiles
At my lost brightness, my passionate tricks,
Had faded from Olympus' solemn height,
And from all serious Gods; that our joy
Was completely forgotten, except by us alone!
And why so ashamed? It’s just to pay
For endless pleasure, with some cowardly blushes:790
Yet I must be a coward!—Honor rushes
Too visibly before me–the sad look
Of Jove–Minerva's start–no heart shook
With awe of purity–no Cupid's wings
In reverence veiled–my crystalline realm
Half lost, and all old hymns become nothing!
But what does this mean for love? Oh I could fly
With you into the sight of heavenly powers,
So long as you would, for many endless hours,
Hold me so sweetly. Now I swear at once800
That I am wise, that Pallas is a fool–
Perhaps her love like mine is just unknown–
Oh I truly think that I have been alone
In my chastity: yes, Pallas has been sighing,
While every eye saw me fixing my hair
With fingers cool as aspen leaves. Sweet love,
I was as vague as a solitary dove,
Nor knew that nests were built. Now a soft kiss–
Yes, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss,
An eternity of passion is yours:810
Soon I will raise you to the glow
Of heavenly ambrosia; and we will shade
Ourselves whole summers by a riverside;
And I will tell you stories of the sky,
And breathe you whispers of its music.
My happy love will surpass all boundaries!
Oh let me melt into you; let the sounds
Of our close voices intertwine from the start;
Let us entwine gently–oh lack
Of human words! roughness of mortal speech!820
I will someday teach you the heavenly lispings
That I long to have you understand, now while I hold
You like this, and weep for fondness–I am pained,
Endymion: woe! woe! is grief contained
In the very depths of pleasure, my only life?"–
At this, with many sobs, her gentle struggle
Melted into a languor. He responded

Now let's go back to our earlier storytellers.
Endymion woke up, that sadness of hers
Sweetly echoing in his ears: he weakly guessed
How lonely he was once again, and sadly pressed860
His empty arms together, hung his head,
And in despair on that deserted bed
Sat silently. He had experienced love's madness:
Often more than a tortured lion's groan
Had escaped from him; but now that rage
Had passed away: he no longer waged
A rough-voiced war against the fated stars.
No, he had felt too much for such harsh blows:
His heart's lyre, tuned like the Eolian,
Forgot all violence, and only communed870
With melancholic thoughts: O he had swooned
Drunk from pleasure's sweetness; and his love
From now on was gentle like a dove.–Reluctant to move
From the imprinted couch, and when he finally did,
It was with slow, languid steps, his face hid
In muffling hands. In that state, he wandered out
Half-seeing visions that could have frightened
Alecto's snakes; ecstasies more intense
Than Hermes' pipe, when he leaned over
Eclipsing eyes: and finally880
He arrived at a vast, vaulted grotto,
Adorned with a thousand, thousand pearls,
And crimson-mouthed shells with stubborn curls,
Of every shape and size, even the bulk
In which whales lurk close, to brood and sulk
Against an endless storm. Also,
Fish-like creatures, in green and azure hues,
Ready to release their streams. In this cool marvel
Endymion sat down and began to ponder
On all his life: his youth, up to the day890
When amidst cheers, feasts, and bright garlands,
He stepped onto his shepherd throne: the sight
Of his white palace in a wild forest nook,
And all the revelry he had ruled there:
Each tender maiden he once thought fair,
With every friend and fellow-woodsman–
Passed like a dream before him. Then the spur
Of the old bards to great deeds: his plans
To nurture the golden age among shepherd clans:
That wondrous night: the grand Pan-festival:900
His sister's sorrow; and all his wanderings,
Until he rushed into the earth's deep embrace:
Then all its buried magic, until it bloomed
High with excessive love. "And now," he thought,
"How long must I stay in danger
Of blank wonders that no longer amaze?
Now that I have experienced her sweet soul to the core
All other depths seem shallow: essences,
Once spiritual, are like muddy dregs,
Meant only to nourish my earthly roots,910
And make my branches bear golden fruit
Into the bloom of heaven: other light,
Though it may be sharp enough to blind
The Olympian eagle's vision, is dark,
Dark as the origins of chaos. Listen!
My silent thoughts are echoing from these shells;
Or perhaps they are just the ghosts, the dying swells
Of distant noises?–Pay attention!"–Upon this
He kept a keen ear. The humming sound
Grew louder, and behold, as he lay,920
On either side gushed forth, with misty spray,
A abundant spring; and both together dashed
Swiftly, wildly, fantastically around the rocks, and lashed
Among the conchs and shells of the lofty grot,
Leaving a trickling dew. Finally, they fell
From the height of the ceiling, producing a noise
Like some breathless runners whose hopes balance
On the final few steps, and with spent strength
Along the ground they took a winding path.
Endymion followed–for it seemed that one930
Always pursued, while the other tried to escape–
He followed their slow, lazy paths, until he was close
To forgetting the mystery,–
And was now lost in tender reflections
Over the vanished bliss. Ah! what is it that sings
His dreams away? What melodies are these?
They sound as if through the whispering of trees,
Not natural in such barren vaults. Listen!

"Oh Arethusa, one-of-a-kind nymph! Why be afraid
Such tenderness as mine? Great Dian, why,940
Did you heed her prayer? Oh, how I wish I
Could ripple around her delicate beauty now,
Circling her waist, trying to tempt her to dive!
Then slipping in
Between her luscious lips and thin eyelids.
Oh, that her shining hair caught the sun,
And I dripped from it, running
In loving streams down her shrinking form!
To linger on her warm lily shoulders,
Between her inviting breasts, and every charm950
That makes me ecstatic! – Look how painfully I flow:
Fair maiden, have mercy on my great sorrow.
Stay, stay your weary journey, and let me guide,
A happy suitor, to the flowery meadow
Where all that beauty captivated me."–"Cruel god,
Stop! or my offended mistress' nod
Will dry up all your fountains:–don’t tease me
With seductive words–Ah, do I really have
Such power to drive you mad? And is it true–
Leave, leave, or I will deeply regret960
My very thoughts: in mercy, then go,
Kindest Alpheus, for if I give in
To my own dear desires, it would be a fatal mistake."–
"Oh, Oread-Queen! I wish you felt a pain
Like this of mine, then I would boldly turn
And be a criminal."–"Alas, I burn,
I shudder–gentle river, go away.
Alpheus! you enchanter! every sense
Of mine was once perfected in these woods.
Fresh breezes, sheltered meadows, and innocent streams,970
Ripe fruits, and a lonely couch, brought me joy;
But ever since I thoughtlessly bathed
In your deceitful waters, a burning desire
Has grown strong within me: why serve me so,
And call it love? Alas, it was cruelty.
Not once more did I close my happy eyes
To the song of the thrush. Go away! Leave!
Oh, it was a cruel thing."–"Now you tease
So gently, Arethusa, that I think
If you were playing on my shady edge,980
You would bathe once again. Innocent maiden!
Stop hiding your heart:–nor be afraid
Of angry powers: there are deities
Who will shield us with their wings. Those fitful sighs
Are almost deadly to hear: oh let me pour
A soothing balm on them!–fear no more,
Sweet Arethusa! Dian herself must feel
These very pangs sometimes. Dear maiden, sneak
Blushing into my soul, and let us escape
These dreary caves for the open sky.990
I will delight you all along my winding path,
From the green sea up to my hidden source
Around Arcadian forests; and will show
The channels where my coolest waters flow
Through mossy rocks; where, amidst lush green,
I roam in pleasant darkness, more unseen
Than Saturn in his exile; where I brim
Around flowery islands, and skim
The sugary delights that countless bees
Buzz from their honeyed wings: and you should choose
The richest, where we might1001
Be cradled in incense every summer night.
Cast aside all sad fears, you white delight,
And let us be comforted; unless
You want to watch my hopeless stream
Rush away from Sol's soothing light,
And pour itself to death along some hungry sands."–
"What can I do, Alpheus? Dian stands
Serious before me: troubling fate!
Unhappy Arethusa! you were once1010
A free huntress"–At that, suddenly fell
Those two sad streams down a fearful valley.
The Latmian listened, but he heard no more,
Except an echo, faintly repeating over and over
The name of Arethusa. On the edge
Of that dark abyss he wept, and said: "I urge
You, gentle Goddess of my journey,
By our eternal hopes, to soothe, to ease,
If you are powerful, these lovers' pains;
And make them happy in some happy plains.1020

He turned—there was an overwhelming sound—he stepped,
There was a cooler light; and so he continued
Towards it by a sandy path, and look!
More suddenly than a moment passes,
The visions of the earth were gone and disappeared–
He saw the giant sea above him.

Book 3.

There are those who boss around their fellow humans
With the most flashy displays: who let out
Their bleating vanities, to nibble away
The soft green and juicy hay
From human pastures; or, O painful truth!
Who, through a foolish blink, will see unpacked
Fire-branded foxes to scorch and singe
Our golden and ripe hopes. With not one hint
Of sanctuary splendor, not a sight
Able to match an owl's, they still are adorned
By the bleary-eyed nations in purple vests,
And crowns, and turbans. With empty hearts,
Except for inflated self-praise, they proudly rise
To their spirit's perch, their being's high account,
Their topmost nothings, their dull skies, their thrones–
Amid the fierce intoxicating sounds
Of trumpets, shouting, and beaten drums,
And sudden cannon. Oh! how all this hums,
In awake ears, like uproar past and gone–
Like thunderclouds that spoke to Babylon,
And set those old Chaldeans to their tasks.–
Are royal attributes all just gilded masks?
No, there are throned seats unattainable
But by a patient wing, a constant spell,
Or by ethereal things that, unconfined,
Can make a ladder of the eternal wind,
And hover about in cloudy thunder-tents
To watch the abyss-birth of elements.
Yes, above the wilting of old-lipped Fate
A thousand Powers keep sacred order,
In water, fiery realm, and airy domain;
And, quiet as a consecrated urn,
Hold celestial meetings for a season due.
Yet few of these distant majesties, ah, few!
Have revealed their workings to this globe–
Few, who with gorgeous spectacle clothe
Our little piece of heaven–whose kindness
Shakes hands with our own Ceres; every sense
Filling with spiritual sweetness to fullness,
As bees gorge on their honey. And, by the feud
Between Nothing and Creation, I here swear,
Eternal Apollo! that your fair Sister
Is of all these the gentler mightiest.
When your golden breath is fading in the west,
She unnoticed slips into her throne,
And there she sits most gentle and most alone;
As if she had no pomp to serve her;
As if your eye, high Poet! was not focused
On her with the Muses in your heart;
As if the ministering stars were not apart,
Waiting for silver-footed messages.
O Moon! the oldest shadows among old trees
Feel tremors when you look in:
O Moon! old branches whisper a holier sound
While they feel your airy company.
You bless everywhere, with silver lip
Kissing dead things back to life. The sleeping cattle,
Nestled in your brightness, dream of divine fields:
Countless mountains rise, and rise,
Ambitious for the blessing of your eyes;
And yet your blessing does not pass
One obscure hiding place, one little spot
Where pleasure may be sent: the nested wren
Has your fair face within its calm view,
And from beneath a sheltering ivy leaf
Sees glimpses of you; you are a relief
To the poor patient oyster, where it sleeps
Within its pearly home.–The mighty depths,
The monstrous sea is yours–the myriad sea!
O Moon! far-reaching Ocean bows to you,
And Earth feels his forehead's burdensome load.

Cynthia! Where are you right now? What faraway place
Of greenery or shimmering bower holds
Such extraordinary beauty? Alas, you long
For someone as sorrowful: your face is pale
For someone whose face is pale: you grieve
For his tears, who weeps for you. Where do you sigh?
Ah! Surely that light shines from Vesper's eye,
Or what a thing love is! It is her, but look!
How changed, how filled with pain, how lost in sorrow!80
She fades at the slightest cloud; her beauty
Is dim on Neptune's blue: yet there's a sparkle
Of love's glitter just off that grove of trees,
Dancing on the waves, as if to charm
The curling foam with its affectionate pull.
Oh, not so idle: for from her glance
She measures whirlpools, and runs wild about
Overwhelming water flows; frightening
The sharp-toothed sharks from their hiding spots, and scaring
Their savage eyes with strange flashes.90
Where will the splendor be satisfied to go?
Oh love! How powerful you have been to teach
Strange journeys! Wherever beauty resides,
In gulf or high place, mountains or deep valleys,
In light, in shadow, in stars or blazing sun,
You show the way, and effortlessly it is won.
In his labor, you gave Leander breath;
You led Orpheus through the shadows of death;
You made Pluto accept the light;
And now, oh winged Leader! you have sent100
A moonbeam to the vast underwater world,

"What is it about you, Moon, that inspires"
My heart so intensely? When I was a child,
I often dried my tears when you smiled.
You seemed like my sister: hand in hand we wandered
From evening to morning across the sky.
I wouldn't pick apples from the tree,
Until you had cooled their cheeks deliciously:150
No bubbling water ever spoke romance,
Except when my eyes could dance with yours:
No woods were green enough, no bower divine,
Until you opened your lovely eyelids:
In planting time, I wouldn't take a dibble,
Or drop a seed, until you were wide awake;
And in the summer's blooming season,
No one but you has heard me happily sing
And weave my dewy flowers all night long.
No melody was like a passing spirit160
If it didn't celebrate your reign.
Yes, in my childhood, every joy and pain
Was shaped by you to the same end;
And as I grew older, you remained
Entwined with all my passions: you were the deep valley;
You were the mountain top—the wise man's pen—
The poet's harp—the voice of friends—the sun;
You were the river—you were victory won;
You were my trumpet's blast—you were my steed—
My cup full of wine—my highest deed:–170
You were the charm of women, lovely Moon!
Oh, what a wild and harmonious tune
My spirit struck from all that is beautiful!
On some bright essence could I lean, and lull
Myself to eternity: I pressed
Nature's soft pillow in a wakeful rest.
But, gentle Orb! a closer bliss came–
My strange love came–the depth of happiness!
She came, and you faded, and faded away–
Yet not entirely; no, your starry sway180
Has been a lingering passion to this hour.
Now I begin to feel your celestial power
Is coming fresh upon me: oh be kind,
Hold back your influence, and do not blind
My sovereign vision.–Dearest love, forgive
That I can think away from you and live!–
Pardon me, airy planet, for I cherish
One thought beyond your silver luxuries!
How far beyond!" At this a surprised start
Frosted the budding greenery of his heart;190
For as he lifted up his eyes to swear
How his own goddess was beyond all beauty,
He saw far in the concave green of the sea
An old man sitting calm and peacefully.
Upon a weedy rock this old man sat,
And his white hair was striking, and a mat
Of weeds was cold beneath his thin, cold feet;
And, as ample as the largest shroud,
A cloak of blue wrapped around his aged bones,
Covered in symbols from the deepest groans200
Of ambitious magic: every ocean form
Was woven in with stark blackness; storm,
And calm, and whispering, and hideous roar
Were depicted in the weave; with every shape
That skims, or dives, or sleeps, between capes.
The gulping whale looked like a dot in the spell,
Yet look upon it, and it would enlarge and swell
To its huge self; and the tiniest fish
Would satisfy even the hardest gazer's wish,
And show his little eye's anatomy.210
Then there was pictured the regality
Of Neptune; and the sea nymphs around his throne,
In beautiful servitude, looked up and waited.
Beside this old man lay a pearly wand,
And in his lap a book, which he studied
So intently, that the new arrival
Had time to keep him in amazed wonder,
To observe these shadows, and stand in awe.

The old man lifted his gray head and saw
The confused stranger—appearing not to notice,220
His features looked so lifeless. Suddenly
He awoke as if from a dream; his snow-white brows
Went arching up, and like two magical plows
Carved deep wrinkles in his large forehead,
Which stayed as firmly as a rocky edge,
Until a smile spread across his withered lips.
Then he stood up, like someone whose long labor
Had been spent in a lonely retreat for years,
Who hadn’t in all his life until now
Released in any way his heavy soul,230
Even to the trees. He stood up: he grasped his robe,
With trembling hands waving it wide,
And in a voice of solemn joy, that sent
Echoes into silence, he said:–

"You are the one! Now I can relax."
In peace on my watery pillow: now
Sleep will come easily to my tired brow.
Oh Jove! I will be young again, be young!
Oh shell-born Neptune, I am pierced and stung
With new life! What should I do? Where should I go,240
When I have shed this serpent-skin of sorrow?–
I'll swim to the sirens, and listen for a moment
To their melodies, and see their long hair shine;
Then I’ll be on that giant's arm,
That curls around the roots of Sicily:
I’ll sail to northern seas in an instant,
And ride on the snorts of a whale
To some dark cloud; from there I’ll dive madly down
On forked lightning, to the deepest deep,
Where through some sucking whirlpool I will be hurled250
With joy to the other side of the world!
Oh, I am full of happiness! Sisters three,
I bow wholeheartedly to your old decree!
Yes, every god be thanked, and all benevolent power,
For I shall no longer wither, droop, and pine.
You are the one!" Endymion stepped back
Dismayed; and, like a wretch tortured on the rack,
Breathless and in agony,
Muttered: "What lonely death am I to face
In this cold place? Will he let me freeze,260
And send my fragile limbs floating over polar seas?
Or will he burn me with his scorching hand,
And leave a black mark in the sand?
Or tear me apart with a bony saw,
And keep me as a chosen meal to lure
His magical fish through fire and flame?
Oh misery of hell! helpless, tamed,
Am I to be burned up? No, I will shout,
Until the gods peek down through heaven's blue!–
Oh Tartarus! Just a few days ago270
Her soft arms were wrapped around me, and
I hung on her voice like fruit among green leaves:
Her lips were all mine, and—ah, ripe sheaves
Of happiness! You on the stubble droop,
But can never be gathered. I must lower
My head and kiss death’s foot. Love! love, farewell!
Is there no hope from you? This terrible curse
Would vanish at your sweet breath.–By Dian's doe
Feeding from her white fingers, on the wind
I see your flowing hair! And now, by Pan,280
I care nothing for this old mysterious man!"

He spoke, and as he walked toward that old figure,
Gazed with high defiance. Suddenly, his heart began to warm
With pity, for the gray-haired being was crying.
Had he then wronged a heart that held so much sorrow?
Had he, even though blindly disrespectful, caused
Tears to gentle eyes, pain to human thought,
Convulsions to a mouth that had seen many years?
He indeed had; and he was ready for tears.
The repentant tears fell as he knelt290
Before that weary sage, who trembled and felt
Through his long dark locks, and spoke hesitantly:

"Get up, good young man, for the sake of sacred Apollo!"
I know your deepest feelings, and I feel
A brotherly longing for you creeping
Into my own heart: why? Because you are unlocking
The prison doors that have held me down
During my long vigil. Though you don't realize it,
You are destined for this pivotal moment
For a great release. Oh, don’t cry anymore;300
I am a friend to love, to the loves of the past:
Yes, if you had never loved an unknown force,
I would have been sad at this happy moment.
But just now, feeling so miserable and old,
I saw you, and my blood, once cold,
Pulsed with new life: in this shaky state
A new heart grew, now dancing
As joyfully as yours. Don't be afraid,
For you will hear this secret all laid bare,
Now as we move toward our joyful task."310

With that said, this youthful spirit in an old disguise
Went forward with the Carian side by side:
Quickly picking up again; while the ocean's tide
Swelled behind them, and the jeweled sands

"I didn't play any music, I didn't sing, and I didn't dance:"
I was a lonely young man on deserted shores.341
My games were solitary, amidst constant roars,
And rocky islands, and the sad cries of seagulls
Echoing between the sea and the sky.
Dolphins were still my friends; unseen shapes
Would let me feel their scales of gold and green,
And spare me from my loneliness; and often,
When a terrifying waterspout rose high,
Its massive form seemed ready to burst
With loud thunder, threatening to wipe350
My life away like a giant sponge of fate,
Some kind creature, sorry for my sad situation,
Dove to the ocean's depths, swallowed it whole,
And left me safe and adrift. But the best
Part of my life was complete tranquility:
I preferred to lie in a rough cave,
Waiting whole days for Neptune's voice,
And if it finally came, I would listen and rejoice!
Every summer evening, I would navigate
My small boat along green sloping shores, to hear360
The shepherd's flute playing clearly from a high cliff,
Mixed with the endless bleating of his sheep:
And there was never a day of summer sunshine,
Without witnessing its rise upon the waves:
I would watch all night to see unfold
Heaven's gates, and Æthon snort his morning gold
Spreading over the swelling streams: and always
At dawn, on some grassy field,
I would lay out my nets, relaxing.
The poor people of the coastal town I blessed370
With daily gifts of the finest fish:
They didn't know where this generosity came from, and happily
Would scatter sweet flowers on a barren beach.

"Why wasn’t I satisfied? Why pursue"
For things that, without you, O Latmian!
Would have been my dull death? Fool! I started
To feel restless longings: to want
The greatest blessing that the father of the ocean
Could give me: to be free
From all his domain. I languished in misery380
For a long time, until in a desperate moment
I plunged into the depths for life or death. To intertwine
One's senses with such thick, breathing stuff
Might seem painful; yet I can't help
But admire how smooth it felt,
And buoyant around my limbs. At first, I spent
Whole days just amazed;
Completely forgetting about myself;
Moving only with the powerful ebb and flow.
Then, like a newly fledged bird that first shows390
Its outstretched feathers to the chilly morning,
I nervously tested the wings of my will.
It was freedom! and immediately I explored
The endless wonders of the ocean floor.
No need to describe them to you, because I see
That you've witnessed them—it must be true—
For I know you can’t feel a thirst,
Given the sad corners of your mouth.
So I will skip ahead in my story
To something more immediate. Oh, woe!400
That love should be my downfall! Ah, fair Scylla!
Why did poor Glaucus ever dare
To seek your heart? Kind stranger-youth!
I loved her with all my truth,
And she couldn't understand it. Timid thing!
She fled from me like a sea-bird in flight,
Around every island, point, and cliff,
From where great Hercules finished his tale
All the way to the Egyptian Nile. My passion grew
Stronger the more I saw her delicate color410
Glimmer softly through the clear blue:
Until it became too intense to bear;
And in that agony, across my sorrow,
It struck me that Circe might offer some relief—
Cruel enchantress! So above the water
I raised my head, searching for Phœbus' daughter.
Ææa's island was gazing at the moon:—
It seemed to swirl around me, and a swoon
Left me drifting helplessly toward that fatal power.

"When I woke up, I found myself in a dim corner;420
Just as the morning light, with the buzz of bees,
Filtered through the lush greens of fresh trees.
How sweet, and even sweeter! for I heard a lyre,
And a sighing voice floated over its desire.
It stopped – I caught light footsteps, and soon
The fairest face that morning had ever shown
Pushed through a screen of roses. Oh wow!
With tears, and smiles, and sweet words she wove
A net whose hold was more bliss than all
The beauty of flowered paradise. Thus did fall430
The dew of her rich speech: "Ah! Are you awake?
Oh let me hear you speak, for Cupid's sake!
I am so overwhelmed with joy! I’ve shed
An urn of tears, as if you were cold dead;
And now that I find you alive, I will pour
From these devoted eyes their silver store,
Until completely spent of the last drop,
So it will please you, and make you stop
Here, so that I too may live: but if beyond
Such cool and sorrowful gifts, you love440
Soothing warmth, supreme affection;
If you’re ready to enjoy a long love dream;
If smiles, if dimples, and muted passion,
Hang in your vision like tempting fruit,
Oh let me pick it for you." Thus she linked
Her charming words, until faintly
Their music reached my overly sweetened soul;
And then she hovered over me, and drew
So near, that if it had been any closer
This weathered face you would have never seen.450

"Young man of Latmos! I'm being very specific."
So you can clearly see how intense
This strong temptation was: and you can't
Say, How could Scylla be completely overlooked?

Who could possibly say no? Who in this whole universe?
She breathed beauty; she immersed
My wonderful life in a golden paradise.
She held me like a child in nurturing time,
And cradled me in roses. Thus trapped,
The flow of my old life was stopped,460
And to this arbitrary queen of pleasure
I bowed as an entranced servant: I wouldn’t even
Have moved, even if Amphion's harp had called
Me back to Scylla over the rough waves.
For just as Apollo each evening creates
A new outfit for the western skies;
So every evening, indeed every lavish hour
Filled me with soothing awareness in that shelter.
And I was free of shady haunts;
I could wander in the intricate forest home470
Of squirrels, shy foxes, and deer with antlers,
And birds from hidden, dark places
Singing for pure joy mixed with sweet sorrow—

One morning, she let me sleep in: I was half awake480
I reached for her smooth arms and lips, to quench
My desperate thirst with sweet, intoxicating sips;
But she was gone. The barbed arrows
Of disappointment pierced me deeply,
So I dashed out and searched the forest.
Wandering through the pine and cedar shadows,
A damp fear overwhelmed me; for there began to echo
A sound of moaning, an agonizing sound,
Echoing mournfully from all around.
Then a conquering rumble roared,490
That fierce cry fell silent: while I stumbled
Down a steep path, as if pushed.
I arrived at a dark valley. Groans swelled
Poisonous in my ears, and grew louder
The closer I got to a gaunt blue flame,
That flickered before me through a thorny thicket.
This fire, like the eye of a mythical beast,
Enchanted me; and I soon approached
A sight too terrifying for the feeling of fear:
Hidden in the brush, I cursed the haggard scene–500
The banquet of my arms, my garden queen,
Seated on an uprooted tree stump;
And all around her were figures, wizard and beast,
Laughing, wailing, crawling, serpent-like,
Showing teeth, tusks, venom bags, and stingers!
Oh, the grotesqueness! Even Charon himself,
If he were to pause his penny-for-passage,
And dream among the Stygian reeds,
It couldn’t have been imagined so phantasmagorically. Fierce, pale,
And dominating was the lady’s gaze,510
As she shook a gnarled staff over them.
Often suddenly she burst into laughter,
And from a basket poured out to the crowd
Clusters of grapes, which they devoured eagerly
And roared for more; licking
Their shaggy jaws with hunger. In a slow, vengeful way,
She took a branch of mistletoe,
And poured a dark, gurgling potion onto it:
They all groaned, as if some sharp punishment
Was being sharpened for their miserable bones.520
She raised the charm: pleading moans
From their poor chests reached her ears
In vain; as merciless as an infant’s coffin
She whisked the sooty oil before their eyes.
Then came a noise of painful toil,
Growing gradually into a tempest of rage,
Shrieks, yells, and groans of torturous pilgrimage;
Until their suffering bodies began to swell
And puff up from their rears to their stifled throats:
Then there was an appalling silence: then a sight530
More bewildering than all that hoarse terror;
For the whole herd, as if caught in a whirlwind,
Swayed through the gloomy air like one massive Python
Fighting against Boreas, and then vanished.
Yet there wasn’t a breath of wind: she banished
These phantoms with a nod. Behold! from the dark
Came mischievous fauns, and nymphs, and naked satyrs,
With dancing and loud revelry, and sped
Faster than centaurs bent on plunder.
Sighing, an elephant appeared and bowed540
Before the fierce witch, speaking aloud
In human language: "Mighty goddess! head
Of irresistible suffering! make my existence brief,
Or let me escape this heavy prison:
Or let me take to the air, or let me die!
I do not plead for my happy crown again;
I do not plead for my warriors on the plains;
I do not plead for my lonely, widowed wife;
I do not plead for my blood, my children fair,
My lovely daughters and sons!550
I will forget them; I will leave these joys;
I ask for nothing so heavenly, so too–too high:
Only I pray, as the best gift, to die,
Or be released from this burdensome flesh,
From this coarse, detestable, filthy net,
And merely be given to the cold, bleak air.
Have mercy, Goddess! Circe, hear my prayer!"

The name of that cursed magician gave me the creeps.
Through my wild thoughts: the truth had come
Strong and sharp against my heart.560
I saw a fury sharpening a deadly arrow;
And my crushed spirit, overwhelmed with fear,
Fainted away in that dark lair of night.
Think, my savior, how desolate
My waking must have been! disgust, and hate,
And countless terrors tore me apart
As a prize among them. I prepared to flee
Into the heart of that wild forest:
I fled for three days—when suddenly, there stood
The glaring angry witch before me. Oh Dis, even now,570
A cold sweat is beading on my brow,
Just from remembering her pale laugh and curse.
"Ha! ha! Sir Dainty! there must be a nurse
Made of rose petals and fluff, just for you,
To cradle you, my sweet, and soothe you: yes,
I'm too hard-hearted for your delicate touch:
My softest squeeze is like a giant's grip.
So, fairy-thing, it shall have lullabies
Like nothing heard before; and it shall quiet its cries
On some breast more delicately feminine.580
Oh, no—it shall not pine endlessly
For more than a pretty, trivial thousand years;
And then it would be a pity if fate's gentle shears
Cut short its immortality. Sea-flirt!
Young dove of the waters! truly I won’t hurt
A single hair of yours: see how I weep and sigh,
That our heartbroken parting is so near.
And must we part? Ah, yes, it must be so.
Yet before you leave me in complete sorrow,
Let me weep over you my final goodbyes,590
And give a blessing: Listen! You have immortal strength,
For you are of heavenly origin:
But such a love is mine that here I drive
Eternally away from you all the vitality
Of youth, and send you toward a tomb.
Soon you shall be taken into the watery depths;
And there, before many days have passed,
Disabled age will seize you; and even then
You shall not go the way of the elderly;
But live and decay, crippled yet breathing600
For a thousand years: after that, I will leave
Your fragile bones to an unknown burial.
Farewell, sweet love, farewell!"—As shooting stars fall,
She fled before I could cry for mercy. Stung
And poisoned was my spirit: despair sang
A war song of defiance against all hell.
A hand was on my shoulder to force
My troubled steps; another before my eyes
Moved on with a pointed finger. In this way
Forced, at last by the ocean's foam610
I found myself; by my fresh, my native home.
Its refreshing coolness, akin to my life,
Was as healing as I waded in;
And, with a blind, passionate rage, I fought
Against the furious waves, pushing
The large foam ahead of me, while there was still
Strong strength in me, nor had all the marrow drained from my bones.

"Young lover, I have to cry—such intense hatred"
With dry cheeks, who can express it? As I struggle
With this situation, feeling dismayed,620
I placed my hand on a dead thing’s face;
I looked—it was Scylla! Cursed, cursed Circe!
Oh vulture-witch, have you never heard of mercy?
Couldn’t your cruelest revenge be satisfied,
But you had to snatch this innocent away
Because I loved her?—Cold, oh so cold
Were her beautiful limbs, and like a common weed
The sea’s swell carried her hair. Dead as she was,
I wrapped my arms around her waist and didn’t stop
Fleeter than an arrow through the bottomless sea,630
Until I saw a crystal structure,
Ribbed and adorned with coral, pebbles, and pearls.
I plunged in; in one eager rush
I reached its bright entrance, entered, and saw!
It was vast, desolate, and icy-cold;
And all around—But why share this with you
When in just a few minutes more you’ll see for yourself?—
I left poor Scylla in a nook and ran away.
My feverish thirst and overwhelming fear
Became a paralysis halfway: soon these limbs grew640
Skinny, withered, lifeless, weak, cramped, and lame.

"Now let me go through a really tough time,
Without any hope, without the faintest sign
Of relief or any uplifting dream
Of colorful fantasy; for I worry it would disturb
Your mind to the point of losing reason: and next tell
How a chance for recovery came down to calm

In the vast ocean, there's a solitary spirit,
Condemned with a weak body to stretch out
His hated existence for ten centuries,
And then die alone. Who can come up with
A complete opposite? No one. So
The ocean must rise and fall a million times,
And he remains burdened. Yet he shall not die,
These things achieved:–If he thoroughly700
Explores all the depths of magic, and explains
The meanings of all movements, shapes, and sounds;
If he investigates all forms and substances
Directly to their symbolic essences;
He shall not die. Furthermore, and most importantly,
He must pursue this task of joy and sorrow
With utmost dedication;–all lovers tossed by storms,
And lost in the savage upheaval,
He shall gather together until
Time's slow passage fills the dreary void:710
Once this is accomplished, and all these efforts matured,
A young man, loved and guided by divine power,
Shall stand before him; whom he shall instruct
On how to bring everything to fruition. The chosen youth
Must take action, or both will be destroyed."–

"Then," shouted the young Endymion, filled with joy,
"We are destined to be brothers!
Please tell me, what great achievement
Is waiting for me in this chaotic world?
What if my wandering feet had strayed from you?720
What if we both had perished?"–"Look!" the wise man replied,
"Do you not see a glimmering through the waves,
Of different lights? It's the building
I told you about, where beautiful Scylla lies;
And where I have reverently honored
All lovers whom fierce storms have doomed to die
In my captivity." So they talked as
They walked until the porches gleamed brightly;
They hurried there and entered immediately.
Surely, never since King Neptune ruled730
Has such a wonder been seen beneath the stars.
Look at some flat plain where proud Mars
Has gathered all his troops; and see
How every soldier stands firm and holds
His straight posture: see, many steel formations,
And rigid lines of iron—who would dare
To take even one step? Imagine further, line by line,
These countless warriors lying down in the field:–
So in that crystal place, in silent rows,
Poor lovers lay at rest from joys and sorrows.–740
The stranger from the mountains, breathless, traced
Such thousands of closed eyes neatly arranged;
Such rows of white feet, and patient lips
All rosy—here, death steals no flower.
He examined their brows and foreheads; saw their hair
Combed neatly to one side with great care;
And each one's gentle wrists, with respect,

It was completed: and right away, with a quick rise and fall
Sweet music carried her soul away, sighing
A lullaby to silence.–"Youth! now scatter
These minced leaves over me, and as you pass through
Those rows of the dead, spread the same around,
And you will see the result."–Amid the sound
Of flutes and violins, captivating his heart,
Endymion stood apart from Glaucus,
And scattered some light fragments in his face.
How lightning-fast the change! A young guy780
Smiling beneath a coral crown,
Sparkling suddenly like an upturned gem,
Appeared, and, kneeling next to a beautiful corpse,
Pressed its cold hand with the gentlest force,
And wept,–and Scylla sighed!
Endymion quickly applied the charm–
The nymph rose: he left them to their joy,
And continued on his important task,
Showering those powerful fragments on the dead.
And as he passed, each lifted its head,790
Like a flower responding to Apollo's touch.
Death felt it deep within: it was too much:
Death started weeping in his charnel-house.
The Latmian persisted onward, and thus
All were re-animated. There arose
A sound of harmony, pulses and throes
Of joy in the air–while many, who
Had died in faithful, devoted arms,
Leapt to each other wildly; and the rest
Felt a strong certainty of being blessed.800
They gazed at Endymion. Enchantment
Grew intoxicated, wanting to let loose.
Delicious harmonies, like airy flowers,
Budded, swelled, and, fully bloomed, showered
Soft, unseen leaves of divine sounds.
The two saviors savored a pure wine
Of happiness, oozing from fairy-pressed grapes.
Speechless, they looked at each other, wandering
Around the lovely gathering, distracted by the richest overflow810

So that beautiful crowd continued on, and not too far,
Before they noticed another large crowd coming down
From among some shimmering rocks,
Just within sight. With this, both groups hurried
To meet on a wide stretch of sand,
And every eye was moist with tears;
For each person found their long-lost love. A soft murmur rose,830
Like nothing ever heard in the chaos
Of winds and waters: it’s beyond human understanding
To describe; it makes you dizzy just to think about it.

After this grand conclusion, the group
Moved on for many miles, gaining and losing
Visible landmarks; their front growing larger,
And from the back shrinking away,–
Until a faint dawn caught them by surprise. Glaucus shouted,
"Look! Look, the palace of his magnificence!
The palaces of God Neptune!" With their excitement growing,840
They pushed forward toward that brightening sight.
With each step they took, majestic domes appeared
In view,–sparkling diamonds and golden gleams
Of amber glowing against their faces.
Joyful and numerous like the leaves in spring,
They continued on; still, the splendor gradually increased.
Rich opal domes were visible, high above,
Supported by jasper pillars, letting through their shafts
A blush of coral. Each spectator drank in
A wealth of wonder; and those who got closer drank deeper:850
For what mere mortals divide into fragments, as simple
As marble was lavishly present, forming the vast
Single beautiful palace that far exceeded,
Even in sheer size, those ancient three,
Memphis, Babylon, and Nineveh.

As big, bright, and colorful as the rainbow.
Of Iris, when it shines brightly and lasts
Beyond a silver shower, was the arch
Through which this army from Paphos marched,
Into the outer courts of Neptune's realm:860
From where, you could see directly, a golden gate,
To which the leaders hurried, but not halfway there
Before it swung open quickly like a fairy's thought,
And made those dazzled thousands shield their eyes
Like young eagles at the first sunlight.
Soon, with an eagle's natural instinct, their gaze
Came alive from the golden swoons, absorbing all the light,
And then, look! there was Neptune on his throne
Of deep emerald: yet he wasn’t alone;
At his right hand stood winged Love, and on870
His left sat the smiling ideal of Beauty.

As far as a sailor can see from the tallest mast
Can see all around on the calm expanse,
So vast was Neptune's hall; and as the blue
Dome covers the waters, so the waters spread
Their grand, dome-like curtains, towering high,
Awed from the distant throne;—and when storms
Revealed the thunderous gloom in Jove's sky;
But calmed as now, bright flashes erupted everywhere,
Silent, underwater cloudlets, sparkling880
Death to a human gaze: for there arose
From the natural west, and east, and south, and north,
A light like four sunsets, blazing forth
A gold-green zenith above the Sea-God's head.
The floor was of clear depth, and spread out far
Like a windless lake, where a slender canoe
Of a feathered Indian glides through the
Finest air: air indeed,
But for the reflection of clouds and sky:
This palace floor was air-breathing,–but for the wonder890
Of deep-seen marvels motionless,–and the brilliance
Of the dome’s splendor, reflecting at the edges,

In the meantime, an amazing party began.
Before the Water-Monarch. Sweet drinks flowed
In gracious fountains, filling every cup;
And plentiful vines, endlessly producing, twisted
New growth around each shell and hanging lyre;
As they untangled for their fire,
They pulled down fresh leaves and cover
For playful teasing. Cupid, sure of his power,
Fluttered and laughed, often making his way through the crowd
With delight. Then dancing and singing,940
And garlands became wild; and joy ruled.
In innocent tendrils, they entwined with each other,
And competed to see who could be smothered the most

Everyone suddenly became quiet. A soft blend
Of sweet music emerged beautifully;950

"Play softly, flutes;"
Be gentle with your strings, you calming lutes;
And don't let the trumpet sound! Oh, what a waste;
Not flowers blooming in an April rain,980
Nor the breath of a sleeping dove, nor a river's flow,–
No, nor the Eolian twang of Love's own bow,
Can create music suited for the delicate ear
Of goddess Cytherea!
Yet please, fair Queen of Beauty, look
Upon our souls' sacrifice.

"Bright-winged Kid!"
Who cares about anything else when you smile?
We see the unfortunate on earth at last
All deathly shadows and gloom that overshadow990
Our spirits, fanned away by your light wings.
O sweetest essence! sweetest of all servants!
God of warm pulses and unkempt hair,
And bare, panting chests!
Dear unseen light in darkness! obscurer
Of light within light! delicious poisoner!
We will drink from your venomous cup until
We fill—we fill!

Look! As he was gently carried through the compassionate crowd,
These words spoke loudly to his inner senses;1031
Written in starlight on the dark above:
Dearest Endymion! my whole heart belongs to you!
How I have lived in fear of fate: it’s done—
You have won me immortal bliss too.
So rise up! For the dove will not hatch
Her eggs before I snatch you up with a kiss
Into endless heaven. Wake up! Wake up!

The young man stood up right away: a quiet lake.
Reflected peace in his eyes; and the green forest,1040
Cooler than all the amazing things he had encountered,
Soothed his restless heart with its gentle melody.
How joyful to be once more in a grassy nest!

BOOK 4.

Muse of my homeland! Highest Muse!
O first-born of the mountains! By the colors
Of heaven in the spiritual air created:
You sat alone in the northern cave for a long time,
While our England was a savage hideout;
Before our forests heard human speech;
Before the first Druids were just children;–
You remained amidst our wild lands
Lost in deep prophetic solitude.
An eastern voice of weighty tone came:10
Yet you were patient. Then the Nine sang,
Apollo’s crown:–yet you foresaw
Such domestic glory that they cried in vain,
"Come here, Sister of the Island!" Plainly
Spoke fair Ausonia; and once more she called
A higher summons:–still you turned back
To your native hopes. O you have achieved
Complete fulfillment! The thing is done,
Which, if undone, would have left our later days
With empty souls. Great Muse, you know the prison,
Of flesh and bone, that restricts, confines, and annoys21
Our spirit's wings: despair surrounds
Our pillows; and the bright tomorrow
Seems to shine down in scorn
Of our dull, uninspired, slow-paced lives.
For a long time, I've said how happy is the one who confesses
To you! But then I thought of poets who’ve passed,
And couldn’t pray:–nor can I now–so I continue
Toward the end with a humble heart.–

"Oh, woe is me! That I must sadly leave30
My beloved homeland! Oh, foolish girl!
How happy I was when, with you, countless people said
Farewell to the Ganges and their lovely fields!
For someone so alone, the clear stream brings
A bitter chill; the ripe grape tastes sour:
Yet I would ask, great gods! for just one brief hour
Of my native air—let me just die at home."

Endymion to the sky's high dome
Was making a huge sacrifice of vows,
When these words reached him. Then he bows
His head through the thorny green tangle41
Of underbrush, and to the sound he leans,
Nervous like a doe towards her hidden fawn.

"Is there no one here to help me? No bright star."
Of life from a kind voice? No kind words
To lift my heavy and gloomy spirit?
No hand to hold mine? No sweet lips
That I can adore? No eyes that meet
To shine upon my heart? No one dies
In front of me, until from these trapped eyes50
Redemption shines! – I am sad and lost."

You, Carian lord, would have been better off
Tossed into a whirlpool. Disappear into thin air,
Warm mountaineer! Can you really only handle
A woman’s sigh when she’s in distress?
Don’t you see her charms! Is Phœbe devoid of passion?
Phœbe is far more beautiful—oh, don’t look again:—
But if you want to see the essence of beauty,
Look at her breathing hard in the forest grass!
Don’t those glossy black curls surpass60
The tenderness of those arms lying aimlessly
Among them? Don’t you feel a shared pain,
To see such lovely eyes searching desperately
For some warm delight that seems to settle
Like a dove in the shadowy place just beyond