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1850–60.]
METTA V. VICTOR.
525
Her praise to heaven she renders
With golden lamps all trimmed ;
They blaze with crimson splendors,
By even the day undimmed.
With golden lamps all trimmed ;
They blaze with crimson splendors,
By even the day undimmed.
These are not tapers, clearly
That burn upon the vine —
I see them now more nearly
As beakers full of wine !
They are goblets, rich and golden,
Ruby and garnet-rimmed,
By all its branches holden
And with royal nectar brimmed.
Ah ! filled with juices amber.
Which ripen in the flower,
For which bright insects clamber
To the turret and the tower.
The wild-bee swims in blisses,
The small bird drinks his fill —
They vow and sigh — "Oh, this is
The draught the gods distill!
They distill it out of heaven
Into these goblets fine —
Let us drink from morn till even —
Let us madden us with wine,
The ambrosial, the divine!"
That burn upon the vine —
I see them now more nearly
As beakers full of wine !
They are goblets, rich and golden,
Ruby and garnet-rimmed,
By all its branches holden
And with royal nectar brimmed.
Ah ! filled with juices amber.
Which ripen in the flower,
For which bright insects clamber
To the turret and the tower.
The wild-bee swims in blisses,
The small bird drinks his fill —
They vow and sigh — "Oh, this is
The draught the gods distill!
They distill it out of heaven
Into these goblets fine —
Let us drink from morn till even —
Let us madden us with wine,
The ambrosial, the divine!"
PART SECOND.
It covers the ancient castle
Over all its southern wall ;
It makes for itself a trestle
Of arch and battlement tall ;
It is rooted deep with the basement,
It rises high with the tower.
It curtains a certain casement —
And there is my lady's bower !
With a graceful, sweeping motion
There parteth the leafy screen —
In its wavy and murmurous ocean
Like a pearl is my lady seen.
No wonder the vine drops amber
Which the honey-bees love to hive !
It was planted to shade the chamber
Of the fairest creature alive
Its holy and blissful duty —
The sweetest that ever was done —
Is to shadow her virgin beauty
From the eye of the amorous sun.
I know why the birds crowd thither
To sing and exult all day.
While the roses and violets wither,
Unsung, in the gardens, away.
I know why the bees are drunken—
In pleasure lapped and rolled,—
Why the humming-birds' breasts are sunken
So deep in those cups of gold!
It's not that they hold their wassail
In the crimson, nectarine flower —
They see the pearl of the castle.
They peer in her maiden bower!
Oh, toss your flowers in the sunlight I
Distill your honey-wine!
Wave, wave your limbs in the moonlight.
Glorious, aspiring vine!
Yours is the coveted pleasure
Of guarding the costly shrine —
But the bitter, bitter measure
Of idle envy is mine.
Over all its southern wall ;
It makes for itself a trestle
Of arch and battlement tall ;
It is rooted deep with the basement,
It rises high with the tower.
It curtains a certain casement —
And there is my lady's bower !
With a graceful, sweeping motion
There parteth the leafy screen —
In its wavy and murmurous ocean
Like a pearl is my lady seen.
No wonder the vine drops amber
Which the honey-bees love to hive !
It was planted to shade the chamber
Of the fairest creature alive
Its holy and blissful duty —
The sweetest that ever was done —
Is to shadow her virgin beauty
From the eye of the amorous sun.
I know why the birds crowd thither
To sing and exult all day.
While the roses and violets wither,
Unsung, in the gardens, away.
I know why the bees are drunken—
In pleasure lapped and rolled,—
Why the humming-birds' breasts are sunken
So deep in those cups of gold!
It's not that they hold their wassail
In the crimson, nectarine flower —
They see the pearl of the castle.
They peer in her maiden bower!
Oh, toss your flowers in the sunlight I
Distill your honey-wine!
Wave, wave your limbs in the moonlight.
Glorious, aspiring vine!
Yours is the coveted pleasure
Of guarding the costly shrine —
But the bitter, bitter measure
Of idle envy is mine.
I lie in the oak-tree shadow
The drowsy, summer day.
In the rippling grass of the meadow
I idle my time away.
The wine and feast are untasted.
The labor never is done —
With heart and body wasted,
I lie in the shade and sun.
Like a bird in its leafy covering,
She flits about her room ;
I see her fair form hovering
Between the light and gloom :
She comes to the window, singing.
She plucks a peeping flower —
Through all my being is ringing
Her song's unconscious power.
She shakes the saucy butterfly
From off the fragrant bough —
The drowsy, summer day.
In the rippling grass of the meadow
I idle my time away.
The wine and feast are untasted.
The labor never is done —
With heart and body wasted,
I lie in the shade and sun.
Like a bird in its leafy covering,
She flits about her room ;
I see her fair form hovering
Between the light and gloom :
She comes to the window, singing.
She plucks a peeping flower —
Through all my being is ringing
Her song's unconscious power.
She shakes the saucy butterfly
From off the fragrant bough —
