Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/Laël and Lora

by Andrew Findlay Underhill

LAËL AND LORA.

IT was a starry night when zephyrs blow,And all is joy and happiness below;When angel whisperings float upon the breeze,And rustle softly through the silent trees;When seraphs bathe them in the moon's pale rays,And wake the soul of harmony with lays;When murmuring streams have hushed their lullabyTo glass the beamy brightness of the sky;When all the voices of the night are still,And echo slumbers on the moon-lit hill;When dreams and glimpses of eternityAre shadowed forth from contemplation's sea; When all the beauties nature can controlCombine to soothe and edify the soul:'Twas such a night, and lovely Lora stoodUpon the lakelet's marge in pensive mood.

The moon's soft beamings cast her shadow there,And wandered mid the mazes of her hair.The sparkling wavelets kissed her sandaled feet,Then sought adown the beach a swift retreat;And fairies, beckoning to their tiny clan,Along the dew-besprinkled meadows ran,Then stopped in admiration at the sightOf her who was so beautiful and bright.

She gazed upon the lights in heaven's dome,As tho' among their rays she sought a homeWhere all was calm, ethereal, and pure,Where naught but loftiest joys the soul allure.She dreamed of love—of love like Vesta's flame,Which burns for aye, and ever is the same; Of love that is not passion—spirit bred—Which on its own sweet thoughts is nourishèd.And as she mused there stole upon her earThe melting strains of music, low and clear,Which, wafted by the breeze, did seem to floatFrom out a swift and airy little boatThat blithely danced along the shining lake,And left behind bright gleamings in its wake.The tiny bark approached the shelving shore,And he within, that plied the flashing oar,Full quickly brought his fragile craft to land,Then from it lightly leaped upon the sand.

He was a radiant youth of noble birth,And beauteous as the former sons of earth.His frame was lithe, and delicately fairWere the loose ringlets of his wavy hair.His face was of that loftiness of castBorn from the knowledge of a noble past. There was a brightness in the features' playThat seemed begotten of the realms of day.Clear was his eye, but in its slumbering fireLurked sparks that quick would wake to sudden ire,Which told his was a soul that ill could brookSuperior in action, word, or look.

He gained the maiden's side, and thus he said:"Mine own fair Lora, say, why dost thou gazeUpon far-twinkling Saturn's silver rays?Canst thou not feed thine eyes on me, whom thouHast said thou more than lov'st? Why is thy browSo sad and pensive, when on such a nightThy thoughts should be all radiant and bright?"

Lora:—"My Laël, no; I am not, surely, sad;Nor do I grieve; but I am more than glad;For I was dreaming of our holy love;Was thinking of its purity of flame,And I from earth was raised to heaven above,And felt like calling love by nobler name.I thought that we had come to yonder star,As beings that had laid aside their clay,And in those realms of blessedness afar,Would always live in never-ending day.I dreamed that there our souls would never part,But offer up their incense in one flame;That ours would be a single-throbbing heart,And ours the oneness of a single name;—That there no thought, and no desire could beThat did not center in a love of thee."

Laël:—"O Lora, dream no more of what will be.Think of the rapturous present here with me!I love thee better than all else beside,And long but for the time when thou 'rt my bride.Ah! oft when drifting on the lake afarI've listened to the notes of thy guitar,And such a wildness seized this heaving breast—A wildness fierce, that would not let me restUntil I saw thee in thy beauteous grace,And gazed enchanted on thy lovely face.And when I gazed, and felt that thou wert mine,I seemed to breath an atmosphere divine.Oh! then I longed to clasp thee in these arms,And revel in the magic of thy charms."

Lora:—"Ah! Laël, love, I pray thee speak not so!Canst thou not feel the love the angels know?In the calm nights Orion blazed on high,You used to watch the ever changing sky,And wonder if our unit life would beAs fair a page as heaven's scroll to see.But if one plunges in the joy of sense,And sears the heart with rapture so intense,What peace can be when passion's sun is setAnd naught is left but darkness and regret?The fleeting joys of one soft hour of bliss,Of long embrace, and lust-inspiring kissCan these compare with calm, unselfish love,The highest gift that comes from realms above?"

Laël:—"O Lora! never in this mortal lifeWithin my breast was waged such burning strife. I am consumed by an all-thrilling fire,Which sears my heart, lights Virtue's funeral pyre;And now I vow by heaven's celestial height,I never could have loved thee ere to-night!By yonder star that is my destiny,I swear—yea, more than swear—I love but thee!O Lora! Lora! dream no more of heaven;A paradise on earth to us is given;And we may pluck the mellow fruits that bloomWithin its walls, and fear not Adam's doom.Our life will be one sunset-glow of love,Whose tints will never fade like those above,And o'er its bright horizon there will shineThe guardian-star of bliss that is divine.In ecstasy we'll sigh the hours away,And live in soft embraces all the day,And when the darkness creeps athwart the sky,To a secluded grotto we will hie, Where, while some streamlet lulls the weary ear,And wondering gnomes from darkened corners peer,We'll calmly sink to soft, and soothing sleep,And dream till daylight from the hills shall peep.Oh! to be thus—to be forever so!What ecstasy of joy this soul would know!Oh! then the hours would fly on gilded wings—Each day a total of all joyous things—Elysium with all its fabled blissCould ne'er compare with happiness like this."

Lora:—"And Laël, dost thou think such love sublime?'Tis but the flame in which is nourished crime.For if the being near whose soul it stoodWere pure, yet weak in any single mood, Such love the greatest misery would bring,And make its object but a loathèd thing.Oh! once I thought that in thy heart combinedWere all the noble traits within mankind;Oh! then it seemed that on this sinful earthCelestial love had found its mortal birth!And was it wrong to place my hopes—my all—So high perforce they could not fail to fall?And was it wrong to worship at such shrine—To raise thine image to a place divine?Ah! so't would seem; for now the fane isDespair—'s rank weeds the crumbling ruin mark."

Laël:—"O Lora, listen! hark what I shall say!I burn for thee—I long—nay, hear me—stay!"

Lora:—"O! Laël, cease! What happiness can beFor love as mad as that possessed by thee?I love the bright ideal I dreamed thou wert,And e'er shall keep that image in my heart.That heart needs not love's object save in mind,And in the thought of having loved will findMore happiness than baser love could gain,And naught of misery, or woe, or pain.Farewell farewell forever! We must part!—Oh go! Have pity on this wretched heart."

He turned him trembling toward the shining lake.He spoke not—paused not, nor farewell did take;He pushed his shallop o'er the yielding sand,And seized the dripping oar in his hand; And soon amid the wavelets' gleaming lightHis fragile craft was seen—then lost to sight;And in the air a mournful strain was heard,Like the low wailing of some plaintive bird,Still farther—and still farther—till the layIn the far distance moaning died away.