CHIMERA II
A curse! a curse! the beautiful
pale wing
Of a sea-bird was worn with
wandering,
And, on a sunny rock beside
the shore,
It stood, the golden waters
gazing o’er;
And they were heaving a brown
amber flow
Of weeds, that glitter’d
gloriously below.
It was the sunset, and the
gorgeous hall
Of heaven rose up on pillars
magical
Of living silver, shafting
the fair sky
Between dark time and great
eternity.
They rose upon their pedestal
of sun,
A line of snowy columns! and
anon
Were lost in the rich tracery
of cloud
That hung along, magnificently
proud,
Predicting the pure star-light,
that beyond
The east was armouring in
diamond
About the camp of twilight,
and was soon
To marshal under the fair
champion moon,
That call’d her chariot
of unearthly mist,
Toward her citadel of amethyst.
A curse! a curse! a lonely
man is there
By the deep waters, with a
burden fair
Clasp’d in his wearied
arms—’Tis he; ’tis he
The brain-struck Julio, and
Agathe!
His cowl is back—flung
back upon the breeze,
His lofty brow is haggard
with disease,
As if a wild libation had
been pour’d
Of lightning on those temples,
and they shower’d
A dismal perspiration, like
a rain,
Shook by the thunder and the
hurricane!
He dropt upon a rock, and
by him placed,
Over a bed of sea-pinks growing
waste,
The silent ladye, and he mutter’d
wild,
Strange words, about a mother,
and no child.
“And I shall wed thee,
Agathe! although
Ours be no God-blest bridal—even
so!”
And from the sand he took
a silver shell,
That had been wasted by the
fall and swell
Of many a moon-borne tide
into a ring—
A rude, rude ring; it was
a snow-white thing,
Where a lone hermit limpet
slept and died,
In ages far away. “Thou
art a bride,
Sweet Agathe! Wake up;
we must not linger.”
He press’d the ring
upon her chilly finger,
And to the sea-bird, on its
sunny stone,
Shouted, “Pale priest!
thou liest all alone
Upon thy ocean altar, rise
away
To our glad bridal!”
and its wings of gray
All lazily it spread, and
hover’d by
With a wild shriek—a
melancholy cry!
Then swooping slowly o’er
the heaving breast
Of the blue ocean, vanish’d
in the west.
And Julio is chanting to his
bride,
A merry song of his wild heart,
that died
On the soft breeze through
pinks beside the sea,
All rustling in their beauty
gladsomely.
SONG
A rosary of stars, love! we’ll
count them as we go
Upon the laughing waters,
that are wandering below,
And we’ll o’er
the pearly moon-beam, as it lieth in the sea,
In beauty and in glory, like
a shadowing of thee!