Orpheus the Musician

I SAT of old beside a stream new-born
From loamy loins of mountains cold,
And it was garrulous of dreams forlorn
And visions old:
Wherefore the legends of the woods and caves
With that faint melody were blended;
And as the stream slid down to ocean-waves, I comprehended.
Into a dreary silence dim and deep
I sank with drowsy sighs and nods:
Then sang — my blue eyes dark and wise from sleep —
The birth of gods.—

A gleaming shoulder cut the stream, andlo!
I saw the glistening Naiad rise:
She floated, like a lily white as snow,
With half-closed eyes.
And suddenly, thronging the boughs around,
Came forest faces strange and glad,
That droopt moist underlips and drank the sound Divinely sad.
Far down the glade, where heavy shadows slept,
Stole, purple-stained by the vine,
Silenus, — thro' whose blood my music crept
Like wondrous wine:

Tiptoe, like one who fears to break a spell,
He came, with eyeballs blank as glass —
Not drawing breath till, at my feet, he fell
Prone on the grass.
Then, leaning forked chin upon his hand,
He listen'd, dead to tipsy strife,
And lo! his face grew smooth and soft and bland With purer life
Goat-footed fauns and satyrs one by one,
With limbs upon the greensward thrown,
Gather'd, and darken'd round me in the sun,
Like shapes of stone:

Between ths sunset and the green hillside
Quaint pigmy spirits linger'd bright,
Till heaven's one star swam dewy, opening wide To the delight,—
While sunlight redden'd, dying, and below
All heark'd — like shapes upon a cup,
By skied Here", in the ambrosial glow,
Held rosily up.
Then twilight duskly gloam'd upon the place,
Full of sweet odour and cool shade,
But music made a lamp of every face
In the forest-glade:

Till swiftly swam, in showers of pearly beams,
Selene" to her azure arc,
Scattering silence, light, and dewy dreams On eyelids dark.
The music sadden'd, and the greenw stirr'd,
The moonlight clothed us in its veil,
As stooping down the dove-eyed goddess heard,
Smiled, and grew pale:
For as they listen'd, satyrs, nymphs, and fauns
Conceived their immortality —
Yea, the weird spirits of the woods and lawns,
Gross, vile, to see —

Whence her pure light disturb'd them, and they strove
To shake away the sweet strange charm;
But the light brighten'd, shaken from above With pearly arm.
They could not fly, they could not cry nor speak,
It held them like a hand of strength, —
They hid their faces, wild, abash'd and weak,
And writhed full length.
The Naiad lifted up her dewy chin,
And knew, and saw the light with love,
Made peaceful by a purity akin
To hers above,

And countless beauteous spirits of the shade
Knew their own souls and felt no fear;
While Echo, nestling in her thyme-cave, made An answer clear.
Till, when I ceased to sing, the satyr-crew
Rush'd back to riot and carouse;
Self-fearful faces blushingly withdrew
Into leafy boughs;
Lastly, Silenus to his knees upcrept,
Rubb'd eyelids swollen like the vine,
Stared blankly round him, vow'd that he had slept,
And bawl'd for wine.