Canto III.]
Orion.
81
There underneath the boughs, mark where the gleam
Of sun-rise through the roofing's chasm is thrown
Upon a grassy plot below, whereon
The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream
Swift rolling towards the cataract, and drinks deeply.
Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks,
While ever and anon the nightingale,
Not waiting for the evening, swells his hymn—
His one sustained and heaven-aspiring tone—
And when the sun hath vanished utterly,
Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade,
With arching wrist and long extended hands,
And grave-ward fingers lengthening in the moon,
Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still
Hung o'er the stream. Then came a rich-toned voice
Out of the forest depths, and sang this lay,
With deep speech intervalled and tender pause.
Of sun-rise through the roofing's chasm is thrown
Upon a grassy plot below, whereon
The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream
Swift rolling towards the cataract, and drinks deeply.
Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks,
While ever and anon the nightingale,
Not waiting for the evening, swells his hymn—
His one sustained and heaven-aspiring tone—
And when the sun hath vanished utterly,
Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade,
With arching wrist and long extended hands,
And grave-ward fingers lengthening in the moon,
Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still
Hung o'er the stream. Then came a rich-toned voice
Out of the forest depths, and sang this lay,
With deep speech intervalled and tender pause.
"If we have lost the world what gain is ours!
Hast thou not built a palace of more grace
Than marble towers? These trunks are pillars rare,
Whose roof embowers with far more grandeur. Say,
Hast thou not found a bliss with Merope,
As full of rapture as existence new?
Hast thou not built a palace of more grace
Than marble towers? These trunks are pillars rare,
Whose roof embowers with far more grandeur. Say,
Hast thou not found a bliss with Merope,
As full of rapture as existence new?
