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MELODIES OF VERSE 
 
 BY / 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street 
 
 ®6e Bi&ersile ^xts8, damfirtUse 
 
 1884 
 
f5v'^ 
 
 
 
 Copyright, 1854, 1862, 1864, 187s, 1878, 1879, 
 
 By Bayard Taylor, Ticknor & Fields, and 
 Houghton, Osgood & Co. 
 
 Copyright, 1882 and 1884, 
 By Marie Taylor. 
 
 A// rights reserved. 
 
 n-^fxio 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 *— 
 
 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Improvisations 5 
 
 Assyrian Night-Song 14 
 
 Camadeva 17 
 
 Bedouin Song 19 
 
 The Poet in the East .... 21 
 
 Peach-Blossom 24 
 
 The Imp of Spring-Time ... 28 
 
 Youth 30 
 
 Song 31 
 
 Proposal 32 
 
 Autumnal Dreams 33 
 
 The Return of Spring .... 36 
 
 Song 38 
 
 LYRICS FROM PRINCE DEUKALION. 
 
 Nymphs 41 
 
 Euterpe, Thalia, and Terpsi- 
 chore 44 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 Eros 45 
 
 Spirit of the Wind 48 
 
 Spirit of the Snow 49 
 
 Spirit of the Stream .... 50 
 
 Shepherd 52 
 
 Shepherdess 53 
 
 Spirits of Dawn 54 
 
MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 IMPROVISATIONS. 
 
 A GRASS-BLADE is my warlike lance, 
 
 A rose-leaf is my shield ; 
 Beams of the sun are, every one, 
 
 My chargers for the field. 
 
 The morning gives me golden steeds, 
 The moon gives silver-white ; 
 
 The stars drop down, my helm to 
 crown. 
 When I go forth to fight. 
 
 Against me ride in iron mail 
 
 The squadrons of the foe : 
 The bucklers flash, the maces crash, 
 
 The haughty trumpets blow. 
 
 One touch, and all, with armor cleft, 
 Before me turn and yield. 
 
6 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Straight on I ride : the world is wide ; 
 A rose-leaf is my shield ! 
 
 Then dances o'er the waterfall 
 
 The rainbow, in its glee ; 
 The daisy sings, the lily rings 
 
 Her bells of victory. 
 
 So am I armed where'er I go, 
 And mounted night or day : 
 
 Who shall oppose the conquering rose, 
 And who the sunbeam slay ? 
 
 -I- 
 
 The star o' the morn is whitest, 
 The bosom of dawn is brightest ; 
 
 The dew is sown, 
 
 And the blossom blown 
 Wherein thou, my Dear, delightest. 
 
 Hark, I have risen before thee, 
 
 That the spell of the day be o'er thee ; 
 
 That the flush of my love 
 
 May fall from above, 
 And, mixed with the morn, adore thee. 
 
IMPRO VISA TIONS. \ 
 
 Dark dreams must now forsake thee, 
 And the bhss of thy being take thee ! 
 
 Let the beauty of morn 
 
 In thine eyes be born, 
 And the thought of me awake thee ! 
 
 Come forth to hear thy praises, 
 Which the wakening world upraises ; 
 Let thy hair be spun 
 With the gold o' the sun, 
 And thy feet be kissed by the daisies ! 
 
 Though thy constant love I share, 
 
 Yet its gift is rarer ; 
 In my youth I thought thee fair ; 
 
 Thou art older and fairer ! 
 
 Full of more than young delight 
 Now day and night are ; 
 
 For the presence, then so bright, 
 Is closer, brighter. 
 
 In the haste of youth we miss 
 Its best of blisses ; 
 
8 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Sweeter than the stolen kiss 
 Are the granted kisses. 
 
 Dearer than the words that hide 
 
 The love abiding, 
 Are the words that fondly chide, 
 
 When love needs chiding. 
 
 Higher than the perfect song 
 For which love longeth, 
 
 Is the tender fear of wrong, 
 That never wrongeth. 
 
 She whom youth alone makes dear 
 May awhile seem nearer : 
 
 Thou art mine so many a year, 
 The older, the dearer ! 
 
 -^ 
 
 What if we lose the seasons 
 
 That seem of our happiest choice, 
 
 That Life is fuller of reasons 
 To sorrow than rejoice, 
 
 That Time is richer in treasons, 
 And Hope has a faltering voice .-* 
 
IMPRO VISA TIONS. g 
 
 The dreams wherewith we were dowered 
 Were gifts of an ignorant brain ; 
 
 The truth has at last overpowered 
 The visions we clung to in vain : 
 
 But who would resist, as a coward, 
 The knowledge that cometh from 
 pain ? 
 
 For the love, as a flower of the meadow. 
 The love that stands firm as a tree — 
 
 For the stars that have vanished in 
 shadow, 
 The daylight, enduring and free — 
 
 For a dream of the dim Eldorado, 
 A world to inhabit have we ! 
 
 Heart, in my bosom beating 
 Fierce as a power at bay ! 
 Ever thy rote repeating 
 Louder, and then retreating, 
 Who shall thy being sway ? 
 
 Over my will and under. 
 Equally king and slave. 
 
10 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Sometimes I hear thee thunder, 
 Sometimes falter and blunder 
 Close to the waiting grave ! 
 
 Oft, in the beautiful season, 
 Restless thou art, and wild ; 
 Oft, with never a reason, 
 Turnest and doest me treason. 
 Treating the man as a child ! 
 
 Cold, when passion is burning. 
 Quick, when I sigh for rest, 
 Kindler of perished yearning, 
 Curb and government spurning, 
 Thou art lord of the breast ! 
 
 Near in the forest 
 I know a glade ; 
 
 Under the tree-tops 
 A secret shade ! 
 
 Vines are the curtains, 
 Blossoms the floor ; 
 
 Voices of waters 
 Sing evermore. 
 
IMPRO VISA TIONS. 1 1 
 
 There, when the sunset's 
 
 Lances of gold 
 Pierce, or the moonlight 
 
 Is silvery cold, 
 
 Would that an angel 
 
 Led thee to me — 
 So, out of loneliness 
 
 Love should be ! 
 
 Never the breezes 
 
 Should lisp what we say, 
 
 Never the waters 
 Our secret betray ! 
 
 Silence and shadow, 
 After, might reign ; 
 
 But the old life be ours 
 Never again ! 
 
 -^ 
 
 Through the lonely halls of the night 
 
 My fancies fly to thee : 
 Through the lonely halls of the night. 
 
 Alone, I crv to thee. 
 
12 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 For the stars bring presages 
 Of love, and of love's delight : 
 
 Let them bear my messages 
 Through the lonely halls of the night ! 
 
 In the golden porch of the morn 
 
 Thou com'st anew to me : 
 In the golden porch of the morn, 
 
 Say, art thou true to me ? 
 
 If dreams have shaken thee 
 With the call thou canst not scorn. 
 
 Let Love awaken thee 
 In the golden porch of the morn ! 
 
 -^ 
 
 Come to me, Lalage ! 
 
 Girl of the flying feet. 
 
 Girl of the tossing hair 
 
 And the red mouth, small and sweet, 
 
 Less of the earth than air, 
 
 So witchingly fond and fair, 
 
 Lalage ! 
 
 Touch me, Lalage ! 
 
 Girl of the soft white hand. 
 
IMPRO VISA TIONS. 1 3 
 
 Girl of the low white brow 
 And the roseate bosom band ; 
 Bloom from an orchard bough 
 Less downy-soft than thou, 
 Lalage ! 
 
 Kiss me, Lalage ! 
 
 Girl of the fragrant breath. 
 
 Girl of the sun of May ; 
 
 As a bird that flutters in death, 
 
 My fluttering pulses say : 
 
 If thou be Death, yet stay, 
 
 Lalage ! 
 
ASSYRIAN NIGHT-SONG. 
 
 There is naught, on either hand, 
 But the moon upon the sand. 
 Pale and glimmering, far and dim, 
 To the Desert's utmost rim, 
 Flows the inundating light 
 Over all the lands of Night. 
 Bel, the burning lord, has fled ; 
 In her blue, uncurtained bed, 
 Ishtar, bending from above, 
 Seeks her Babylonian love. 
 Silver-browed, forever fair, 
 Goddess of the dusky hair 
 And the jewel-sprinkled breast, 
 Give me love, or give me rest ! 
 
 II. 
 
 I have wandered lone and far 
 As the ship of Izdubar, 
 When the gathered waters rose 
 High on Nizir's mountain snows, 
 
ASSYRIAN NIGHT-SONG. 1 5 
 
 Drifting where the torrent sped 
 Over hfe and glory dead. 
 Hear me now ! I stretch my hands 
 From the moon-sea of the sands 
 Unto thee, or any star 
 That was guide to Izdubar ! 
 Where the bulls with kingly heads 
 Guard the way to palace-beds, 
 Once I saw a woman go, 
 Swift as air and soft as snow, 
 Making swan and cypress one. 
 Steel and honey, night and sun, — 
 Once of death I knew the sting : 
 Beauty queen — and I not king ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Where the Hanging Gardens soar 
 Over the Euphrates' shore, 
 And from palm and clinging vine 
 Lift aloft the Median pine, 
 Torches flame and wine is poured. 
 And the child of Bel is lord ! 
 I am here alone with thee, 
 Ishtar, daughter of the Sea, 
 Who of woven dew and air 
 Spread'st an ocean, phantom-fair, 
 
1 6 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 With a slow pulse beating through 
 Wave of air and foam of dew. 
 As I stand, I seem to drift 
 With its noiseless fall and lift, 
 While a veil of lightest lawn, 
 Or a floating form withdrawn, 
 Or a glimpse of beckoning hands 
 Gleams and fades above the sands. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Day, that mixed my soul with men, 
 
 Has it died forever, then ? 
 
 Is there any world but this ? 
 
 If the god deny his bliss. 
 
 And the goddess cannot give. 
 
 What are gods, that men should live ? 
 
 Lo ! the sand beneath my feet 
 
 Hoards the bounty of its heat, 
 
 And thy silver cheeks I see 
 
 Bright with him who burns for thee. 
 
 Give the airy semblance form. 
 
 Bid the dream be near and warm ; 
 
 Or, if dreams but flash and die 
 
 As a mock to heart and eye. 
 
 Then descend thyself, and be, 
 
 Ishtar, sacred bride to me ! 
 
, CAMADEVA. 
 
 fHE sun, the moon, the mystic planets 
 
 ' seven, 
 
 Shone with a purer and serener flame, 
 
 i.nd there was joy on Earth and joy in 
 
 Heaven 
 
 When Camadeva came. 
 
 The blossoms burst, like jewels of the 
 air. 
 Putting the colors of the morn to 
 shame ; 
 breathing their odorous secrets every- 
 where 
 
 When Camadeva came. 
 
 The birds, upon the tufted tamarind 
 ! spray. 
 
 Sat side by side and cooed in amor- 
 ous blame ; 
 The lion sheathed his claws and left his 
 prey 
 
 When Camadeva came. 
 
1 8 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 The sea slept, pillowed on the happy- 
 shore ; 
 The mountain-peaks were bathed in 
 rosy flame ; 
 The clouds went down the sky, — to 
 mount no more 
 
 When Camadeva came. 
 
 The hearts of all men brightened like 
 the morn ; 
 The poet's harp then first deserved its 
 fame, 
 For rapture sweeter than he sang was 
 born 
 
 When Camadeva came. 
 
 All breathing life a newer spirit quaffed, 
 A second Hfe, a bliss beyond a name, 
 And Death, half-conquered, dropped his 
 idle shaft 
 
 When Camadeva came. 
 
BEDOUIN SONG. 
 
 From the Desert I come to thee 
 
 On a stallion shod with fire ; 
 And the winds are left behind 
 
 In the speed of my desire. 
 Under thy window I stand, 
 
 And the midnight hears my cry : 
 I love thee, I love but thee, 
 With a love that shall not die 
 Till the sun grows cold, 
 And the stars are old. 
 And the leaves of the Judgment 
 Book unfold ! 
 
 Look from thy window and see 
 
 My passion and my pain ; 
 I lie on the sands below, 
 
 And I faint in thy disdain. 
 Let the night-winds touch thy brow 
 
 With the heat of my burning sigh, 
 And melt thee to hear the vow 
 
 Of a love that shall not die 
 
20 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Till the sun grows cold^ 
 And the stars are old, 
 And the leaves of the Judgment 
 Book unfold I 
 
 My steps are nightly driven, 
 By the fever in my breast, 
 To hear from thy lattice breathed 
 
 The word that shall give me rest. 
 Open the door of thy heart, 
 
 And open thy chamber door, 
 And my kisses shall teach thy lips 
 The love that shall fade no more 
 Till the sun grows cold, 
 And the stars are old, 
 And the leaves of the Judgment 
 Book tmfoldl 
 
THE POET IN THE EAST. 
 
 The Poet came to the Land of the 
 East, 
 When spring was in the air : 
 The Earth was dressed for a wedding 
 feast, 
 So young she seemed, and fair; 
 And the Poet knew the Land of the 
 East, — 
 His soul was native there. 
 
 All things to him were the visible forms 
 Of early and precious dreams, — 
 
 Familiar visions that mocked his quest 
 Beside the Western streams, 
 
 Or gleamed in the gold of the clouds, 
 unrolled 
 In the sunset's dying beams. 
 
 He looked above in the cloudless calm, 
 And the Sun sat on his throne ; 
 
 The breath of gardens, deep in balm, 
 Was all about him blown, 
 
22 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 And a brother to him was the princely 
 Palm, 
 For he cannot live alone. 
 
 His feet went forth on the myrtled hills, 
 And the flowers their welcome shed ; 
 
 The meads of milk-white asphodel 
 They knew the Poet's tread, 
 
 And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, 
 The poppy's bonfire spread. 
 
 And, half in shade and half in sun, 
 
 The Rose sat in her bower, 
 With a passionate thrill in her crimson 
 heart — 
 
 She had waited for the hour ! 
 And, like a bride's, the Poet kissed 
 
 The lips of the glorious flower. 
 
 Then the Nightingale, who sat above 
 In the boughs of the citron-tree, 
 
 Sang : We are no rivals, brother mine. 
 Except in minstrelsy ; 
 
 For the rose you kissed with the kiss of 
 love, 
 She is faithful still to me. 
 
THE POET IN THE EAST. 23 
 
 And further sang the Nightingale : 
 Your bower not distant Ues. 
 
 I heard the sound of a Persian lute 
 From the jasmined window rise, 
 
 And, twin-bright stars, through the lat- 
 tice-bars, 
 I saw the Sultana's eyes. 
 
 The Poet said : I will here abide, 
 In the Sun's unclouded door ; 
 
 Here are the wells of all delight 
 On the lost Arcadian shore : 
 
 Here is the light on sea and land. 
 And the dream deceives no more. 
 
PEACH-BLOSSOM. 
 
 I. 
 
 Nightly the hoar-frost freezes 
 The young grass of the field, 
 
 Nor yet have blander breezes 
 The buds of the oak unsealed ; 
 
 Nor yet pours out the pine 
 
 His airy resinous wine, 
 
 But over the southern slope, 
 
 In the heat and hurry of hope, 
 
 The wands of the peach-tree first 
 
 Into rosy beauty burst ! 
 
 A breath, and the sweet buds ope ! 
 
 A day, and the orchards bare. 
 
 Like maids in haste to be fair, 
 
 Lightly themselves adorn 
 
 With a scarf the Spring at the door 
 
 Has sportively flung before, 
 
 Or a stranded cloud of the morn ! 
 
 II. 
 
 What spirit of Persia cometh 
 And saith to the buds, ^'Unclose ! " 
 
PEA CH-BL OSSOM. 2 5 
 
 Ere ever the first bee hummeth, 
 
 Or woodland wild flower blows ? 
 What prescient soul in the sod 
 Garlands each barren rod 
 With fringes of bloom that speak 
 Of the baby's tender breast, 
 And the boy's pure hp unpressed, 
 And the pink of the maiden's cheek ? 
 The swift, keen Orient so 
 Prophesies as of old, 
 While the apple's blood is cold, 
 Remembering the snow. 
 
 III. 
 
 Afar, through the mellow hazes 
 
 Where the dreams of June are stayed, 
 
 The hills, in their vanishing mazes, 
 Carry the flush, and fade ! 
 
 Southward they fall, and reach 
 
 To the bay and the ocean beach, 
 
 Where the soft, half- Syrian air 
 
 Blows from the Chesapeake's 
 
 Inlets and coves and creeks 
 
 On the fields of Delaware ! 
 
 And the rosy lakes of flowers. 
 
 That here alon^ are ours. 
 
26 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Spread into seas that pour 
 Billow and spray of pink 
 Even to the blue wave's brink, 
 All down the Eastern Shore ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Pain, Doubt, and Death are over ! 
 
 Who thinks, to-day, of toil ? 
 The fields are certain of clover. 
 
 The gardens of wine and oil. 
 What though the sap of the North 
 Drowsily peereth forth 
 In the orchards, and still delays ? 
 The peach and the poet know 
 Under the chill the glow. 
 And the token of golden days ! 
 
 V. 
 
 What fool, to-day, would rather 
 In wintry memories dwell ? 
 
 What miser reach to gather 
 
 The fruit these boughs foretell ? 
 
 No, no ! — the heart has room 
 
 For present joy alone. 
 
 Light shed and sweetness blown, 
 
 For odor and color and bloom ! 
 
PEA CH-BL OSSOM. 2 J 
 
 As the earth in the shining sky, 
 Our lives in their own bhss lie ; 
 Whatever is taught or told, 
 However men moan and sigh, 
 Love never shall grow cold. 
 And Life shall never die ! 
 
THE IMP OF SPRING-TIME. 
 
 Over the eaves where the sunbeams fall 
 
 Twitters the swallow ; 
 I hear from the mountains the cataract 
 call: 
 
 Follow, oh, follow ! 
 
 Buds on the bushes and blooms on the 
 mead 
 Swiftly are swelling; 
 Hark ! the Spring whispereth : " Make 
 ye with speed 
 Ready my dwelHng." 
 
 Out of the tremulous blue of the air 
 
 Calling before her, 
 Who was it bade me " Awake and pre- 
 pare, 
 
 Thou mine adorer ! " 
 
 " Leave me," I said ; " I have known 
 thee of old. 
 Love the annoyer, 
 
THE IMP OF SPRING-TIME. 29 
 
 Arming, at last, with thine arrows of 
 gold, 
 Time, the Destroyer." 
 
 " Follow," he laughed, " where the bliss 
 of the earth 
 Wooes thee, compelling; 
 Yet in the Spring, and her thousand-fold 
 birth, 
 I, too, am dwelling." 
 
 Out of the buds he was peeping, and 
 sang 
 Soft with the swallow ; 
 Yea, and he called where the cataract 
 sprang : 
 Follow, oh, follow ! 
 
 Vain to defy, or evade, or, in sooth, 
 
 Bid him to leave me ! 
 But his deception is dearer than truth : 
 
 Let him deceive me ! 
 
YOUTH. 
 
 Child with the butterfly, 
 Boy with the ball, 
 
 Youth witli the maiden — 
 Still I am all. 
 
 Wisdom of manhood 
 Keeps the old joy; 
 
 Conquered illusions 
 Leave me a boy. 
 
 Falsehood and baseness 
 Teach me but this : 
 
 Earth still is beautiful, 
 Being is bliss. 
 
 Locks to my temples 
 Hoary may cling ; 
 
 'T is but as daisies 
 
 On meadows of spring. 
 
SONG. 
 
 I PLUCKED for thee the wilding rose 
 
 And wore it on my breast, 
 And there, till daylight's dusky close, 
 
 Its silken cheek was pressed ; 
 Its desert breath was sweeter far 
 
 Than palace-rose could be, 
 Sweeter than all Earth's blossoms are, 
 
 But that thou gav'st to me. 
 
 I kissed its leaves, in fond despite 
 
 Of lips that failed my own, 
 And Love recalled that sacred night 
 
 His blushing flower was blown. 
 I vowed, no rose should rival mine. 
 
 Though withered now, and pale, 
 Till those are plucked, whose white 
 buds twine 
 
 Above thy bridal veil. 
 
PROPOSAL. 
 
 The violet loves a sunny bank, 
 The cowslip loves the lea ; 
 
 The scarlet creeper loves the elm, 
 But I love — thee. 
 
 The sunshine kisses mount and vale. 
 The stars, they kiss the sea ; 
 
 The west winds kiss the clover bloom. 
 But I kiss — thee ! 
 
 The oriole weds his mottled mate, 
 The lily 's bride o' the bee ; 
 
 Heaven's marriage-ring is round the 
 earth — 
 Shall I wed thee ? 
 
AUTUMNAL DREAMS. 
 
 When the maple turns to crimson 
 And the sassafras to gold ; 
 
 When the gentian 's in the meadow, 
 And the aster on the wold ; 
 
 When the noon is lapped in vapor, 
 And the night is frosty-cold : 
 
 II. 
 
 When tne chestnut-burs are opened, 
 And the acorns drop like hail, 
 
 And the drowsy air is startled 
 With the thumping of the flail, — 
 ^ With the drumming of the partridge 
 And the whistle of the quail : 
 
 ir V ni. 
 
 Through the rustling woods I wander, 
 Through the jewels of the year. 
 
 From the yellow uplands calling. 
 Seeking her that still is dear : 
 
34 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 She is near me in the autumn, 
 is near. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Through the smoke of burning summer, 
 When the weary winds are still, 
 
 I can see her in the valley, 
 I can hear her on the hill, — 
 
 In the splendor of the woodlands, 
 In the whisper of the rill. 
 
 V. 
 
 For the shores of Earth and Heaven 
 Meet, and mingle in the blue : 
 
 She can wander down the glory 
 To the places that she knew, 
 
 Where the happy lovers wandered 
 In the days when life was true. 
 
 VI. 
 
 : So I think, when days are sweetest, 
 And the world is wholly fair, 
 
 ' She may sometime steal upon me 
 Through the dimness of the ^, 
 With the cross upon her bosom 
 And the amaranth in her hair. 
 
AUTUMNAL DREAMS. 35 
 
 VII. 
 
 Once to meet her, ah ! to meet her, 
 
 And to hold her gently fast 
 Till I blessed her, till she blessed me, — 
 
 That were happiness, at last : 
 That were bliss beyond our meetings 
 
 In the autumns of the Past ! 
 
THE RETURN OF SPRING. 
 
 Have I passed through Death's uncon- 
 scious birth, 
 
 In a dream the midnight bare ? 
 I look on another and fairer Earth ; 
 
 I breathe a wondrous air ! 
 
 A spirit of beauty walks the hills, 
 
 A spirit of love the plain ; 
 The shadows are bright, and the sun- 
 shine fills 
 
 The air with a diamond rain ! 
 
 Before my vision the glories swim, 
 To the dance of a tune unheard : 
 
 Is an angel singing where woods are 
 dim, 
 Or is it an amorous bird ? 
 
 Is it a spike of azure flowers. 
 
 Deep in the meadows seen, 
 Or is it the peacock's neck, that towers 
 
 Out of the spangled green ? 
 
THE RETURN OF SPRING. 37 
 
 Is a white dove glancing across the 
 blue, 
 Or an opal taking wing ? 
 For my soul is dazzled through and 
 through, 
 With the splendor of the Spring. 
 
 Is it she that shines, as never before, 
 The tremulous hills above, — 
 
 Or the heart within me, awake once 
 more 
 To the dawning light of love ? 
 
SONG. 
 
 From the bosom of ocean I seek thee, 
 
 Thou lamp of my spirit afar, 
 As the seaman, adrift in the darkness, 
 
 Looks up for the beam of his star ; 
 And when on the moon-lighted water 
 
 The spirits of solitude sleep. 
 My soul, in the light of thy beauty. 
 
 Lies hushed as the waves of the deep. 
 
 As the shafts of the sunrise are broken 
 
 Far over the glittering sea, 
 Thou hast dawned on the waves of my 
 dreaming. 
 And each thought has a sparkle of 
 thee. 
 And though with the white sail dis- 
 tended, 
 I speed from the vanishing shore. 
 Thou wilt give to the silence of ocean 
 The spell of thy beauty the more. 
 
LYRICS 
 
 PRINCE DEUKALION. 
 
NYMPHS. 
 
 Lift from the rivers 
 Your silver sandals, 
 From mists of the mountains 
 Your floating veils ! — 
 From musky vineyard, 
 And copse of laurel. 
 The ears that listened 
 For lovers' tales ! 
 Let olives ripen 
 And die, untended ; 
 Leave oak and poplar, 
 And homeless pine ! 
 Take shell and trumpet 
 From swell of surges. 
 And feet that glisten 
 From restful brine ! 
 As the bee when twilight 
 Has closed the bell, — 
 As love from the bosom 
 When doubts compel, 
 We go : farewell 1 
 
42 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 ***** 
 {At a distance.) 
 
 As the night-air pants ; 
 As the wind-harp chants ; 
 As the moonlight falls 
 Over foliage walls ; 
 As gleams forerun 
 The smile of the sun 
 When clouds are parting, 
 Our beings are. 
 We are held afar 
 By a knowledge burning 
 In the heart of yearning ; 
 For the necromancy 
 Of the fonder fancy 
 Breathes back into air 
 The Presences fair 
 It would fain restore ; 
 We are Souls and Voices, 
 But Forms no more ! 
 
 In the upward pulse of the fountain ; 
 On the sunny flanks of the mountain ; 
 Where the bubble and slide of the rill 
 Is heard when the thickets are still ; 
 
NYMPHS. 43 
 
 Where the light, with a flickering mo- 
 tion, 
 From the last faint fringes of ocean 
 Is sprinkled on sand and shell ; 
 In the ferns of the bowery dell. 
 And the gloom of the pine-wood dark. 
 And the dew-cloud that hides the lark, 
 The sense of Beauty shall feel us, 
 The touch of delisfht reveal us ! 
 
EUTERPE, THALIA, AND TERP- 
 SICHORE. 
 
 In the woods and highlands 
 
 We linger near ; 
 By the shores and islands, 
 
 When skies are clear. 
 Delight of existence, 
 
 In the feet that fly, 
 Calls from the distance 
 
 Our glad reply ; 
 But the joys are sweeter 
 
 That to all belong. 
 When the foot gives the metre, 
 
 The heart the song ! 
 No more you banish 
 
 Than a cloud the sun : 
 We only vanish 
 
 To be re-won ! 
 
EROS. 
 (to g^a.) 
 
 Not yet am I barred in Hades, 
 
 Though a word unknown hath hurled 
 The Olympian lords and ladies 
 
 To wail in the nether world ! 
 Let Proteus shift in ocean 
 
 From shape to shape that eludes : 
 I am one, as the heart's devotion, 
 
 Yet many, as lovers' moods ! 
 
 Was I born that I should die ? 
 Stars that fringe the outer sky 
 Know me : yonder sun were dim, 
 Save my torch enkindled him. 
 Then, when first the primal pair 
 Found me in the twilight air, 
 I was older than thy day. 
 Yet to them as young as they. 
 All decrees of Fate I spurn ; 
 Banishment is my return ; 
 
46 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Hate and Force purvey for me, 
 Death is shining victory ! 
 ***** 
 With the Wind desires and motions 
 
 The innocent child that guide ; 
 With girlhood's shy avoidance 
 
 And boyhood's bashful pride ; 
 With the arts that are simplest nature, 
 
 And the nature that hides in art, 
 When the voice and the cheeks bear 
 witness, 
 
 And the eye confesses the heart ; 
 With the fond mistrust, and the frenzy, 
 
 That falters, or sweeps above, 
 When the key to delight in beauty 
 
 Is held by the hands of love ; 
 With the lore of the world's renewal 
 
 In seed or in guarded bud ; 
 With the plunge of the sportive dolphin. 
 
 And the heat of the panther's blood, — 
 The spells of my sway are woven, 
 
 The flame of my being fed, 
 And I breathe in a bright existence, 
 
 Though the eldest Gods are dead ! 
 For Love, in the ashes of Empire 
 
 And the dust of Faith, is born ; 
 
EROS. 47 
 
 And the rose of a kiss shall blossom, 
 When blight has withered the corn ! 
 
 Nor the soul of the wandering odor, nor 
 the light of the mist, is thine. 
 
 Who art rolled through day and dark- 
 ness, at the will of a star divine ; 
 
 Who claim'st the arrows of beauty, 
 alone from its quiver sped, — 
 
 Thou readest but half the riddle in the 
 dust that else were dead ! 
 
 Thy life is blown upon thee, as a seed 
 from another land. 
 
 And the soil, and the dew and water, 
 are the bounty of thy hand ; 
 
 But the secrets of whence and whither 
 are mine for my children's need : 
 
 I go with the flying blossom, as I came 
 with the flying seed ! 
 
SPIRIT OF THE WIND. 
 
 From the parched Numidian waste, 
 
 From the hills of hot Fezzkn, 
 I sprang with a boundless haste 
 
 That only the stars outran ; 
 Over mountain and Midland Sea 
 
 That strove to tire or tame, — 
 Over Etna and Stromboli 
 
 That pierced me with smoke and 
 flame ; 
 Till I laid, in the first desire 
 
 That bended my pinions low. 
 The cheek of the sylph of fire 
 
 On the breast of the gnome of snow ! 
 For the powers of ruin, that meet 
 
 In the vaults of space, must die 
 When the spirit that stays my feet 
 
 Is lord of the tender sky ! 
 I come, to wither and slay ; 
 
 I pause, to quicken and spare ; 
 And the fate of the world I weigh 
 
 In the trembling balance of air ! 
 
SPIRIT OF THE SNOW. 
 
 Homeless atoms, born in the sky, 
 Cling to the ledges bleak and high, 
 Fill the crevice and hide the scar, 
 And give the sunrise a rosy star ! — 
 Gather and grow, till a shield is won 
 To blunt the spear of the angry sun ; 
 Till from the heart of my chill repose 
 Power awakens and purpose grows, — 
 Out of my torpor the glacier goes ! 
 Silent, certain, it crouches and crawls 
 Down the gorges in frozen falls, 
 And crystal turrets of azure walls, 
 Tearing the granite from crest and 
 
 dome. 
 Hurling the torrent forth in foam ! 
 Shepherding here my downy flock, 
 There I shatter the ribs of rock ; 
 Stayed by a hand and slain by a breath. 
 There I am terror, and doom, and 
 V.^ death! 
 
 4 
 
SPIRIT OF THE STREAM. 
 
 Over the mosses and grasses 
 
 The white cloud passes, 
 Silent and soft as a dream : 
 And the Earth, in her shy embraces, 
 
 Conceals the traces 
 Of the secret birth of the Stream ; 
 Till my threads are braided and woven. 
 
 And speed through the cloven 
 Channels, and gather, and sink, 
 And wind, and sparkle, and dally. 
 
 With song in the valley. 
 And shout from the terrible brink ! 
 Then the whirl of the wind divides me, 
 
 And the rainbow hides me, 
 As I midway scatter in air ; 
 And I bathe with endless showers 
 
 The feet of the flowers, 
 And the locks of the forest's hair : 
 Till proudly, with waters wedded, 
 
 My strength is bedded 
 
SPIRIT OF THE STREAM. 5 I 
 
 By meadow, and slope, and lea ; 
 And the lands at last deliver 
 
 Their tribute river 
 To the universal Sea ! 
 
SHEPHERD. 
 {Singing above.) 
 
 Where the arch of the rock is bended. 
 
 Warm, and hid from the dew, 
 Slumber the sheep I tended, 
 
 All the sweet night through. 
 Never a wolf affrights them 
 
 Here, in the pasture's peace, 
 But the tender grass delights them, 
 
 And the shadows cool their fleece. 
 I blow, as a downy feather, 
 
 The sleep on my eyelids laid. 
 And rise in the twilight weather. 
 
 Between the glow and the shade. 
 Too blest the hour has made me 
 
 For a speech the tongue may know, 
 But my happy flute shall aid me, 
 
 And speak to my love below. 
 
SHEPHERDESS. 
 
 {Singing in the valley^ 
 
 Uncover the embers ! 
 With pine-cone and myrtle 
 My breath shall enkindle 
 
 The sacred Fire ! 
 Arise through the stillness 
 My shepherd's blue signal, 
 And bear to his mountain 
 
 The valley's desire ! 
 The olive-tree bendeth ; 
 The grapes gather purple ; 
 The garden in sunshine 
 
 Is ripe to the core : 
 Then smile as thou sleepest, 
 His fruit and my blossom ; 
 There 's peace in the chamber, 
 
 And song at the door ! 
 
SPIRITS OF DAWN. 
 
 Hark ! has the Sun-god's Hour 
 Smitten her cymbals, dreaming him 
 
 nigh? 
 We are called by a sound, and sped by 
 a power. 
 To break the sleep of the sky ! 
 iEolian echoes blow 
 From the fourfold realms of the air, 
 And a torch, not ours, with a mightier 
 glow 
 Burns where the East is bare. 
 We hasten, we scatter the cloud, 
 We quench the beam of the great white 
 star ; 
 But the paean is over-loud, 
 And the splendor comes from afar ! 
 It flushes our halls of rest, 
 As the sun were a rose in hue, 
 
SPIRITS OF DAWN. 55 
 
 And it paints the Earth as she bares her 
 breast 
 To the emptied urns of the dew ! 
 
 \Sound of ^olia7t harps j the face of 
 Eos appears^] 
 
 EOS. 
 
 Is this mine Earth ? 
 The many - headlanded, the temple- 
 crowned, 
 Which the great purple sea so whispered 
 round, 
 When earlier Gods had birth ? 
 Mine Earth, I loved so well, 
 Rejoiced in, as it welcomed me. 
 And fed with unexhausted hydromel, 
 While the young race was free ! 
 I know its curving strands. 
 Its dimpling hollows, bosom - budding 
 
 hills ; 
 I scent large fragrance of the life that 
 fills 
 The joined or parted lands. 
 Old hopes, and sweetest, burn again ; 
 
56 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
 
 Old words are stammering on my 
 tongue : 
 Was it your lips that kissed, Immortal 
 Twain, 
 
 Or is Tithonus young ? 
 
MELODIES OF VERSE 
 
 lY 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 New York : 11 East Seventeenth Street 
 
 €%t WiiiitxniU ^vt%M, €%mfitiXigt 
 
 1884 
 
:> P-5. 
 
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