Poems (Osgood)/The Birth of the Callitriche, or Water-Star
THE BIRTH OF THE CALLITRICHE;
OR, WATER-STAR.
"Nothing in them, that doth range, But suffer a sea-changeInto something new and strange."—Shakespeare.
'Tis night—and the luminous depths of heaven With urns of fire are lit, Each borne in a viewless spirit's hand, Who lightly floats with it.
And Dian—the queen of that graceful train, Sails by in her silver shell, While softly rises the choral strain, With a rich and joyous swell.
Now, voice by voice they are dying away, Till all save one are still, And that sings on with a cadence glad, lake the gush of a rippling rill.
It comes from one of the beauteous seven, The Pleiades pure and bright, Who keep more fondly than all in heaven, Unstain'd their urns of light.
She sings, as she bends o'er her burning vase, And she sees in the wave below Her beaming smile, and her form of grace, And her soft hair's golden flow.
But hark! a voice from the waters clear, And the Pleiad leans to listen, With a glowing cheek and a charmed ear, And eyes that tenderly glisten.
"Daughter of light I pine, I pine, By day and night, For thy smile divine!
"Oh! radiant maid, My dwelling share!Our nymphs shall braid Thy shining hair.
"And I will keep Thy star-urn pure, While thou shalt sleep In joy secure.
"Where stately stands My coral hall On golden sands Thy feet shall fall.
"From rosy shell Thy rosier lip, Where dimples dwell, Shall nectar sip;
"And the tremulous play Of purest pearls, With a pale soft ray Shall gem thy curls.
"Oh, the wave is fair And mild and blue, As the azure air Thou wanderest through!
"Then, loveliest far Of Atlas' daughters, Bless with thy star Our limpid waters!"
Wild and sweet was the lay of love, Upborne on the balmy air, And the Pleiad stole from her bower above, To gaze in the waters fair.
Ah! fatal gaze! for so fondly smiled Those eyes from the stream below, She plunged, and the lamp of her heavenly life Went out in its vase of snow.
But light to the element's edge sprang up, A starry shape in bloom, A strange wild flower in a fairy cup, That shone in the water's gloom:
And they say the penitent Pleiad's tears Still feed that star of the wave, As of old her smiles in holier spheres To the Urn their pure light gave.