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 Copyriglit, 
 
 1892, 
 
 By ELISABETHE DUPUY. 
 
 VOODWARD ^ TIESNAN PRINTINSCO. 
 ST. LOUiS. 
 
POEMS IN THIS BOOK: — Star of Love: 5. 
 Avillon: 6. Th.e Three Queens, Tlie Sliep= 
 herds : 7. Castles In Spain, P. M. H. : 8. 
 Polyplieme to tlie Nymph. Galatea : 9. Sir 
 Owen and Lady Elined : 11. To Lala^e : 14. 
 The Singer of Son^s: 15. The Gravestone: 16. 
 Across the AAvn : 17. The Lady of the 
 Castle: 18. Cymidis : 19. April Son6 : 20. 
 The Wraith Voya^eur : 21. The Weary 
 Hours, Song of Farewell: 22. Chileeli : 23. 
 Arabesques : 24. The Lady of Con^vay 
 Lea : 26. The An^el of Deliverance : 33. 
 Diana, Dandelions : 37. The Shepherd Boy, 
 Burning Boughs: 38. Narcissus: 39. 
 
c ^itctiVs %nxt. 
 
 ST All OF LOVE. 
 
 Who calleth thee forth thro' azure shadows, dew-drip- 
 ping, Venus ? 
 
 Star of Love, thy mellow glance entrances the heavens ; 
 
 Thy beams shed tenderness, thou awakenest memories 
 
 that slept. 
 
 So that looking on thee I seem to feel again (sweet 
 
 sorrow) , 
 
 Kisses ambrosial. 
 
 The pyre of the sun-widowed day glows with azure and 
 
 amber ; 
 Star of Love, thou leadest forward thy golden train; 
 Thy herald winds laugh in the tops of the silver-leaved 
 poplars, 
 So that listening to them I seem to hear the soft pipe, 
 Venus, 
 
 Of Delphian Apollo. 
 
 The sound of sweet bells and murmuring waters is heard 
 in the vale ; 
 
 Star of Love, thou hast looked on the path where the 
 red poppies blow ; 
 
 Lo, the wings of thy white doves winnow the wine- 
 spiced air. 
 So that beholding their flight, I seem to be charioted, 
 
 O Venus, 
 
 Thro' the realm of Dreams. 
 
6 THE queen's quire. 
 
 Distil me the alembic of oblivion from the dew of red 
 
 poppies ; 
 Star of Love, by thy spell the tan-spotted leopard grows 
 
 tame in his lair, 
 Likewise the proud heart of my lover melt with thine 
 amorous fire, 
 So that thinking on me he shall seem as one drunken, 
 Venus, 
 
 "With the wine of delight. 
 
 AVILLON. 
 
 Oft when the moon hangs low against the blue, 
 You see a golden pathway leading far 
 O'er seas to Avillon, that like a star 
 
 Serene and distant, lures us to pursue 
 
 And yet eludes us, shining thro' the dew 
 
 Of our salt tears, whose fitful gushings mar 
 The symmetry of vision : such ways are 
 
 But roads that lead to isles which dreams imbrue. 
 
 On the horizon's utmost moony verge, 
 
 Drenched with pale sea-foam, drifting, dusky, dim, 
 Lies lilied Avillon, and in our dreams 
 
 We see its shadowy shape and hear the surge 
 Roll sobbing on its sands, but no sails skim 
 The sea which round its silver scarping gleams. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. ', 
 
 THE THKEE QUEENS. 
 
 Clad in their lily robes came fair queens three 
 
 And Stood upon the verge, with palms to eyes, 
 Searching the bluest rim of those blue skies 
 
 For some ships saiHng o'er the azure sea 
 
 From the dim outer world: then sharp drew she. 
 
 The stateliest one, breath quickened with thin sighs : 
 She saw but sea-gulls from the pale foam rise 
 
 And shadows broadening on the sandy lea. 
 
 And one was tall and crowned upon the head. 
 And one was hke a lily blowing fair, 
 The other seemed most like lost loves and sweet. 
 
 To men's sad sight, re-risen from the dead. 
 
 So stood they with the nimbus round their hair, 
 And sea-foam shining wet against their feet. 
 
 THE SHEPHERDS. 
 
 Leave, Daphnis, leave thy snowy flocks to feed 
 On long slopes lush with dew, or by the rill 
 Sweet honey-bells to crop, roving at will 
 
 Thro' shadowy brake and rose-emblossomed mead 
 
 And where pale lilies star the water-weed. 
 
 See, how moonbeams the dusky valleys fill 
 With pallid fire: Bring, then, thy poHshed quill. 
 
 Thy flocks thy shepherd's crook no longer need. 
 
 Here on a bank with daffodils o'erspread. 
 Our weary limbs at ease we will recline 
 And try who from the reed's smooth-jointed bore 
 
 The sweeter strains can draw. This conch-shell red 
 The prize shall be. Now let the strain divine 
 Float echoing o'er the dim Thessalian shore. 
 
8 THE queen's quire. 
 
 CASTLES IN SPAIN. 
 
 Castles in Spain ! they nothing cost, and I 
 
 Therefore all mine will build stately and fair, 
 Bedight with pearl and gold and ivory rare, 
 
 With diamond towers reared 'gainst a blue-bowed sky ; 
 
 It shall in silks, marbles, and carved-work vie 
 With Cleopatra's fabled palace; there 
 Shall loiter lilied streams ; beyond compare 
 
 Its palmy courts and esplanades shall lie ; 
 
 And there for pleasure and for beauty fain, 
 
 Gay dames and gentlemen shall come and go ; 
 In song and dance and amorous dalliance, fleet 
 The moon-led hours shall unremembered flow 
 
 To soft accompaniment of citernes sweet : 
 
 But sad guests shall not near my bright demain. 
 
 P. M. H. 
 
 Is it not thou, — thine eyes, thy face? But, nay — 
 Too strangely wan ! I scarcely know if dream 
 Of fancy shaped thee to my sight : I seem 
 As one who, waking at the day-spring gray, 
 A shape that wandered down the star-sown way 
 Kecalls in musing sweet. O must I deem 
 Thee lost to life, or risen in the gleam 
 Of that clear dawn which marks immortal day? 
 In the vast shade and silence of the night, 
 Is it thou, thy very self? With that same smile 
 Thou wast wont to brave the fiercen ess of thy pain ! 
 O shadow, shadow, to my wistful sight 
 Be real man, if only for the while 
 That serves to calm the o'er-wrought heart and brain ! 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 9 
 
 POLYPHEME TO THE NYMPH GALATEA. 
 
 AFTER THEOCRITUS. 
 
 Come, Galatea, from thy sea-blue caves, 
 
 Forsake the sobbing billow, leave the waves 
 
 That wash forever round their shell-built walls 
 
 And beat with restless surge thy coral halls, 
 
 For these, sweet nymph, in nothing can compare 
 
 With the domains that thou with me shalt share. 
 
 The fields invite thee, where the crocus spreads 
 
 Its golden mesh, where glowing poppy beds 
 
 Await the pastimes of our joyful loves ; 
 
 And, in green coverts, flocks of crooning doves 
 
 From morn to noon-tide mourn withheld delight. 
 
 From noon to twilight mourn, but all the night 
 
 Sad Philomel unto the yellow moon 
 
 Utters her lovelorn plaint ; for her too soon 
 
 The dayspring flushes red the dewy East. 
 
 Come, Galatea, where the brown bees feast 
 
 On the thin nectar of the Asphodel, 
 
 Or, dipping deep into some wild-rose bell, 
 
 Make themselves drunk with sweets : O sea-maid, here 
 
 Thou mayst trip nimbly, without sense of fear ; 
 
 The wanton Triton shall not thee pursue 
 
 When gleams the moonlight on the darkling blue, 
 
 Nor dread Poseidon from his kingl}^ cliayre 
 
 Leaning too lowly, with caresses scare ; 
 
 No hippodame, vaulting the wave's white crest, 
 
 Make thy heart beat affrighted in thy breast ; 
 
 But, alike protected from the Sea-king's lure, 
 
 And from warlike or bestial force secure, 
 
10 . THE queen's quire. 
 
 Thou shalt abide with me among the groves, 
 
 "UTiere chaste Diana in the shadow roves, 
 
 With slender bow and swift suspended dart 
 
 Seeking unweariedly the antlered hart, 
 
 Her buskined nymphs attending at her side. 
 
 The hounds' deep clamor thro' the woods rings wide, 
 
 What time the silver crescent o'er the hills 
 
 Low hanging, with white fire the valley fills. 
 
 The rosy Oreads shall thy companions be, 
 
 And Dryads, bursting from the rough-rinded tree ; 
 
 But the laughing Satyr and the dancing Faun 
 
 And wild Bacchants that greet the silver dawn 
 
 With rites licentious, crowned with ivj' vine 
 
 And pouring out libations of red wine, 
 
 These, Galatea, shall not thee molest, 
 
 Xor break with wanton sport thy dewy rest. 
 
 Here in the rocky cave shalt thou repose 
 
 On beds of dusky hyacinth and rose ; 
 
 Here will I bring thee fruits to eat, and curds. 
 
 With milk newly taken from my mottled herds : 
 
 In summer thou shalt wear lawn garments thin. 
 
 And scarlet wool in winter thou shalt spin : 
 
 And when the flocks return at close of day 
 
 Sweetly for thee my tuneful pipes I'll play. 
 
 Come, Galatea, from thy sea-blue caves. 
 
 Forsake the unstable ocean's foamy wave. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 11 
 
 SIR OWEN AND LADY ELINED. 
 
 A song of the Lady Elined ; 
 She looked across the white and red, 
 Her falcon fretted at the jess ; — 
 She sighed for very idleness. 
 
 Far down, and thro' the golden wheat 
 There came the croon of wood-doves sweet ; 
 Far down, upon the reedy shore, 
 She counted six white swans, and more : 
 
 The white swans spread their rustling snow 
 And sailed away, six in a row ; 
 The falcon fretted at the jess ; — 
 She sighed for very idleness. 
 
 " I've coiffed my long locks' wandering gold, 
 I've made straight every silvery fold 
 Of my thin gown of pale samite ; 
 With seed-pearls is my girdle dight : 
 
 But when there are no eyes aware. 
 What matter tho' a maid be fair?" 
 The falcon fretted at the jess ; — 
 She sighed for very weariness. 
 
 Across the beds of daffodils 
 She saw the violet of the hills ; 
 Beyond the tawny fields of corn 
 She heard a huntsman wind his horn. 
 
12 THE queen's quire. 
 
 He rode across the low green plain ; 
 
 Cool shone the grasses after rain ; 
 
 He saw the river's silver edge 
 
 Gleam thro' the fringe of emerald sedge ; 
 
 He saw above the banks aflower 
 A castle's battlemented tower ; 
 Upon the battlement, so fair 
 He saw the gleam of golden hair. 
 
 She heard a huntsman wind his horn, 
 She saw him spur across the corn ; 
 Her falcon fretted at the jess — 
 She sighed no more for weariness. 
 
 **Come down, O true love mine, come down 
 Strong lances wait in yonder town ; 
 My scarlet pennon floats the breeze, 
 I have fair ships on many seas." 
 
 ''Well guarded are the doors, Sir Knight, 
 The brazen bolts are drawn up tight, 
 A hundred lances guard the hall, 
 The bloodhounds lie without the wall." 
 
 "Loose, me, my true love, loose thy veil — 
 My arms are strong — they will not fail ; 
 My barb is swift, o'er dale and down 
 We'll ride to yonder small fair town." 
 
 "I have no veil. Sir Owen fair, 
 I'll loose to thee ray coiffed hair." 
 Her falcon breaking from the jess 
 Soared free into the wilderness. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 13 
 
 She's slit her gown of pale samite, 
 She's twisted ropes so silken slight : 
 "Now in the corn go bide, my lord, 
 Till I have twisted strong the cord." 
 
 The sun sank low, the sun sank red, 
 Fair Elined rose from her bed ; 
 She took the rope so silken slight 
 And slid adown the castle height. 
 
 Across the fields of yellow wheat 
 They rode away on palfrey fleet ; 
 By glade and glen, both fast and far, 
 Beneath the mellow morning star. 
 
 And coming hard by the high sea-down 
 Beheld the spires of a small fair town ; 
 And there they saw the ships asail 
 Before the pleasant morning gale : 
 
 And there they saw the pennons fly 
 Scarlet against the pearl-white sky : 
 Fourscore fair youths in velvet coats 
 Abode in harbour with the boats. 
 
 They sailed across the foaming seas. 
 With scarlet floating on the breeze, 
 And nevermore twixt white and red. 
 Saw they the Lady Elined. 
 
 Far in his castled northern isle 
 He's brought his lady wife the while ; 
 With fete and tournament and play, 
 His knights made glad the wedding day. 
 
14 THE queen's quire. 
 
 Two-score damsels of high degree, 
 Weaving borders of broiderie 
 On gowns of satin and sendal, 
 Attended the lady in the hall. 
 
 Full many a minstrel, harping south, 
 Sang to her praise with sweetest mouth ; 
 Full many a minstrel east and west, 
 Sang of Sir Owen and his quest. 
 
 TO LALAGE. 
 
 Clear as a star. 
 
 In her blue heaven burning. 
 Serene, unattainable, afar, 
 (Oh, in my heaven a star,) 
 Thou dwell est where seraphs are. 
 
 While I behold thee, yearning, 
 Clear as a star, 
 
 In her blue heaven burning. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 15 
 
 THE SINGER OF SONGS. 
 
 Tho' 1 should go all night 
 
 Thro' the gardens, plucking the roses, 
 
 I should ne'er have flowers enough, 
 
 E'en tho' I should go all night 
 
 Thro' the gardens, plucking the roses. 
 
 The roses dream on the bush, 
 And the Queen-moon dreams above. 
 The breezes dream in the apple boughs, 
 There's none awake but I. 
 
 No one awake but I, 
 
 Who forever make new songs ; 
 
 And tho' I should sing the whole night thro'^ 
 
 I should never have songs enough. 
 
 Who forever make new songs. 
 
 The moonlight silvers the rose. 
 And the silent fountain gleams 
 Like the Cyclop's single eye : 
 Shall I sing of the red, red rose. 
 Or the white rose, chill with dew. 
 Or shall I sing of the moonlight there. 
 The fig leaves shining thro'? 
 
 But tho' I should spend the night 
 
 In plucking the red, red roses, 
 
 I should ne'er have roses enough ; 
 
 And tho' I should sing the whole night thro', 
 
 To my lute with the silver strings, 
 
 I should never have songs enough 
 
 For my lute with the silver strings. 
 
16 THE queen's quire. 
 
 THE GRAVESTONE. 
 
 The rain is on the myrtle bush, 
 
 The wind sighs in the dusky leaves, 
 
 And, splash, upon the white gravestone, 
 
 The great drops fall, like tears ; 
 
 The rain beats down the hyacinths. 
 
 And cuts the young grass spears in twain — 
 
 I w^onder if he hears it fall, 
 
 Down in the narrow coffin there, 
 
 Or if the cold drops siping thro', 
 
 Trouble his last dreams? 
 
 Between two clouds just now, the moon 
 
 Looked out ; long rays of silver slid 
 
 Down the wet shimmering mist, and gleamed 
 
 Across that white gravestone ; 
 
 I saw the carved name — "Paul," it read — 
 
 'Tis one year since he died. 
 
 And since he died, it seems so strange 
 
 Any should be alive : 
 
 I see the men he used to know 
 
 Walk smiling in the thronging streets, 
 
 And I myself look at the sun. 
 
 Rejoicing in its pleasant light ; 
 
 But when the rain is on the bush, 
 
 And thro' the mist the gravestone gleams. 
 
 When I am weary of my cares. 
 
 And sick at heart and out of tune. 
 
 Oh, then 1 think of him out there, 
 
 With gladness that for him 'tis done. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 17 
 
 And wish the time were come for me 
 
 To lie beneath a white headstone ; 
 
 Perhaps the rain then on the bush 
 
 Would make the dreaming seem more sweet: 
 
 I know not that, but this is true. 
 
 Life's full of storm and gloom and rain, 
 
 And all beyond is mystery ; 
 
 I know not whether souls live on 
 
 In other spheres of joy or pain, 
 
 Or whether death be but a sleep 
 
 Beneath the rain- wet hyacinths 
 
 And sobbing myrtle leaves. 
 
 ACROSS THE AWN. 
 
 Across the awn I saw Love flee. 
 And dip the silver dawn. 
 
 Between the wan moon and the sea, 
 Across the awn. 
 
 Behold, here are but shadows drawn, 
 
 Of bleaching bud and tree. 
 Across the hoar rime of the lawn ; 
 
 These only has he left to me. 
 
 With wildered ghosts and thrawn. 
 
 Sad things and shadowy shapes to see, 
 Across the awn. 
 
18 THE queen's quire. 
 
 THE LADY OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 She sitteth in the castle tower 
 (Woe is me and wel-a-way), 
 
 Twining a wreatli of the hly flower ; 
 Ever she doth weep and say, 
 "Woe is me and wel-a-way," 
 
 Twining a wreath of the lily flower. 
 
 She hath bound a lily to her hair 
 (Woe is me and wel-a-way) , 
 
 She than lilies far more fair ; 
 Ever she doth sigh and say 
 "Woe is me and wel-a-way," 
 
 She than lilies far more fair. 
 
 She lists the moon-face far on high 
 (Woe is me and wel-a-M-ay), 
 
 "Sweet lady of the violet sky. 
 
 Hast thou a lover fain to stray, 
 Woe is me and wel-a-way, 
 
 Sweet lady of the violet sky?" 
 
 An ivory lute with silver strings 
 (Woe^is me and wel-a-way) 
 
 She hath, to which she sadly sings, 
 In the gloaming of the day, 
 "Woe is me and wel-a-way," 
 
 Unto her lute she sadly sings. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 19 
 
 CYMIDIS. 
 
 Be pleased, Immortals, now my steps to guide 
 Where Cymidis and gentle oreads hide, 
 For I have so i-ht the wanderer in vain ; 
 And now the sun, returning after rain. 
 Has dried the twinkling mosses by the streams, 
 And soon the stars will bring the hour of dreams : 
 Whom should I seek when balmy dews descend 
 And purple flames with flames of silver blend? 
 
 Thee, Cymidis ; beneath the burning blue. 
 
 Mid columbines and violets late and few, 
 
 Oft sought and seldom found, where laughing strife 
 
 Of fleeing nymphs and sylvan gods was rife. 
 
 And cross the drowsy air the tender flute 
 
 Of Doric shepherds did mine ears salute. 
 
 What tho' Apollo urged his golden car. 
 His arrows pierced not thro' the snowy bar. 
 And flaming oaks spread wide their scarlet tent. 
 With yellow poplars, all their broideries rent ; 
 There Shrinx sighed, wildered, in the tawny shade. 
 And, "love, O love," the wood-doves pined and prayed. 
 
 And all that thou, too wary, mightst return 
 To thy soft couch, o'er which slim willows burn 
 Torch-like against the turquoise firmament ; 
 Where amorous dreams from ivory sun-gates sent. 
 Lull to forgetfulness the wistful soul, 
 Consenting to the Cyprian's sweet control. 
 
20 THE queen's QUIKE. 
 
 Thus, Cymidis, by fruitless quest I find, 
 Thou wilt not with thy silken fillet bind 
 The frivolous or wine-mad reveller ; 
 Thou lov'st the covert thick of bay and fir : 
 O when wan Cynthia, wearied on the hills 
 Rests her huge tire, and by the mellow rills 
 One plaintive bird divulges all her woe. 
 Then comest thou, Cymidis, with foot-step slow. 
 And there requitals make to all that grieve 
 At loss of love, the Parcae's late reprieve. 
 
 APEIL SONG. 
 
 Vert leaves sigh in the breezes again, 
 
 Oh Sweetheart, 
 Frogs croak softly in meadow and fen, 
 
 Oh Sweetheart, 
 And gay-vested tulips as I pass 
 Fling up their fragrance from the grass, 
 
 Sweetheart, my sweet. 
 
 And there is the moon at the end of the way, 
 
 Oh Sweetheart, 
 Holding her red torch up : but nay. 
 
 Oh Sweetheart, 
 There is no need of Love's torch-light 
 To show us the desolate paths to-night, 
 
 Sweetheart, my sweet. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 
 
 TPIE WRAITH VOYAGEUR. 
 
 I rode on the hills in my chariot of fire, 
 As I rode the slopes were aglow ; 
 
 The mad winds muttered a wicked desire, 
 The thrawn woods whispered low. 
 
 With wheels of white silver I rode on the sea, 
 As I rode the billows were pale ; 
 
 The surges sang in unholy glee, 
 The sea-gull uplifted its sail : 
 
 And far on the waves beneath me afloat 
 
 Were tresses of golden hair ; 
 On the long reef lay a black-hulled boat, 
 
 The sea-gulls hovered there. 
 
 The wreck of a schooner, a golden tress, 
 On the waves a quavering wail ; 
 
 Was that the cry of the sea-gull? Confess, 
 The sea-gull winged with a sail? 
 
 I rode upon seas of amethyst bright. 
 As the morning star sank low ; 
 
 The wind was a bugle hailing the light, 
 The crisp foam gleamed like snow. 
 
 I saw far afloat o'er the crystal deep 
 
 A dead girl, naked and fair ; 
 She lay on the waves like a sea-nymph asleep 
 
 In the sheen of her srolden hair. 
 
THE QUEEN'S QUIRE. 
 
 THE WEARY HOUKS. 
 
 Oh, wearily, wearily now the rain 
 Beats on the roof, beats on the pane, 
 Wearily, wearily. 
 
 Wearily from their unseen towers 
 
 Bells make count of the leaden hours, 
 Wearilv, wearilv. 
 
 SO^'G OF FAREWELL. 
 
 The blue-bird and the robin both have flown. 
 
 Sweetheart, 
 And fiercely on the northern storm-winds blown, 
 
 The leaves all swart, 
 Are scattered o'er the river's tuneless brink ; 
 Pale dandelions down the chill gales sink. 
 
 The skies are dim, the sunbeams wan and sheer ; 
 I sit among the wasted leaves and think 
 
 Of thee, my dear. 
 
 So anxious with the birds to be away, 
 
 Sweetheart, 
 And like them fain the wanderer to play ; 
 
 Glad to depart 
 With other Ught o' loves, on idle quests ; 
 Alas, like birds that leave their empty nests. 
 
 Thy thoughts already fly drear leagues from me. 
 And leave me midst the old year's mournful guests. 
 
 To weep for thee. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 23 
 
 CHILEELI. 
 
 Oh hear, 'tis the Chileeli, 
 
 The golden-throated, 
 
 Musician of a single strain ; 
 
 In the dim twilight of the cedar tree 
 
 He sings of love, 
 
 And death. 
 
 Oh hear, 'tis the Chileeli, 
 
 The messenger of love : 
 
 He sings 'neath sun and moon. 
 
 In the dim twilight of the whispering pines. 
 
 The pale seas murmur to the pines, 
 
 The dim pines whisper sadly to the seas, 
 
 But the Chileeli, under sun and moon, 
 
 Sings to the heart 
 
 Of love. 
 
 Chileeli, sweet, 
 
 Behold the sun is gone, 
 
 Chileeli, love. 
 
 The flag-tiowers by the sea 
 
 Wave purple over ^lenimonee's grave ; 
 
 Sing then no more of long-lost loves, 
 
 Ah, sing no more of pain ; 
 
 See, how the moon floats on the shining wave, 
 
 And the sea-gull guides my slender birch canoe : 
 
 Sing then of joy. 
 
 Of new delights, 
 
 ChileeU, Oh Chileeli, 
 
 Thou wondrous bird. 
 
24 THE queen's quiee. 
 
 AKABESQUES. 
 
 Oatside, the summer noon upon the wheat lies hot. 
 White sunbeams shimmer on the rosy garden plot, 
 •The ringdoves croon in cool, close coverts by the stream ; 
 But here the green light lies subdued as in a dream. 
 Around the latticed window wreathed with flowering 
 
 vines, 
 The honey bees drowse lazily ; with checkered lines 
 Leaf shadows faintly etch the floor ; soft zephyrs strew 
 Perfumes; beyond the window gleams a strip of blue. 
 Outside, the summer noontide, splendid, hot, and white ; 
 Within, the dreamy silence and the cloistered light; 
 The couch diaphanous, with silken covers spread, 
 Invites repose, an eider cushion neath the head : 
 Sleep's fillet, loosely drawn about my weary brow, 
 Now lets fantastic dreams, and antic fancies now. 
 Creep neath my half-closed eye-lids, and still half 
 
 awake 
 I see the arras in the wandering south winds shake : 
 The silken arras, woven of many a thread of green, 
 Shot thro' with crimson bars, and golden strands 
 
 between ; 
 Thereon strange figures float, waver, and bend, and 
 
 sway, 
 Dance madly forth, retire, and rise and fall away: 
 Rich oriental blossoms star the broidered hem. 
 Citron, lotus, and rose, and, on its broken stem. 
 The passion-flower : and there the moody stork pursues 
 His solemn thoughts, mid shallows of Milesian blues. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 25 
 
 Far from his^native haunts along the reedy shore, 
 He stands disconsolate, lamenting that no more 
 With twisted neck, on the sea-marsh's dreary edge, 
 He seeks the torpid crab and oyster in the sedge, 
 And, clinging to the briny weed, shell-fish and snail : 
 Beyond the frothing surf one single snowy sail 
 Flies like a shining sea-bird o'er the violet deep. 
 But as the sun descends, his embers steep 
 Its fluttering plumes in flame; so from the charmed 
 
 sight 
 It sinks at last below the shadowy verge of night : 
 Back from their secret caves the darkening waters pour, 
 And round the jagged rocks the foaming surges roar ; 
 But Silence hovers o'er the salt and sallow marsh ; 
 Here comes not oar, or sail, or shout of sailor harsh ; 
 The night wind in the weeds and slim reeds w^histles 
 
 low, 
 The bittern cries across the moaning tide's outflow, 
 And, sheltered in the cypress tree's funereal arms, 
 The owl, with hollow cries, the lonely night alarms, 
 And thro' her fleecy vail, the broad-faced, wistful moon 
 Sees in the wimpling pools her wrinkled image swoon. 
 Still does the solemn stork, sedate, attenuate, 
 Upon his one leg stand, -moody, disconsolate. 
 Musing, perchance, on bygone days, replete with bliss, 
 More than a hundred hoary years removed from this. 
 
26 THE queen's quire. 
 
 THE LADY OF CONWAY LEA. 
 
 The bridegroom's hall was garnished fair 
 
 With rose and eglantine, 
 And merry was the feast that night, 
 
 And goodly was the wine : 
 
 The bride was decked in diamond stones, 
 
 And clad in silk array : 
 She lightly rose from the bridegroom's side. 
 
 Before the dawn of day. 
 
 Before the watchet dawn of day, 
 
 By dripping field and dell ; 
 "Oh, tell me, whither goest thou?" 
 
 "To yonder small chapelle; 
 
 "For I a wedding hymn would sing, 
 
 And I a prayer would say, 
 In yon chapelle upon the hill, 
 
 Before the break of day." 
 
 Then came the bridegroom forth in haste. 
 And summoned his household ; 
 
 The groomsmen and the bridemaids came, 
 And men two-hundred told. 
 
 "What man is true and bold," saith he, 
 
 "For by St. Christopher, 
 This jewel fair I'll give to him 
 
 That findeth trace of her." 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 27 
 
 Hard ran the guests and servitors, 
 
 And scoured the country round ; 
 A score of miles they rode and ran ; 
 
 No lady could be found. 
 
 * * * * * :t: :j; :;< * 
 
 Who is this pale and sweet ladye? 
 
 She lieth on her bed. 
 Her body lieth wan and weak, 
 
 And droopeth her sad head : 
 
 Her dark eyes glow beneath her brows. 
 
 She speaketh ever low ; 
 "Oh, when my bodye's dead, I charge 
 
 To Conway thou wilt go. 
 
 For there my husband waiteth me ; 
 
 Twelve weary years hath he 
 Dwelt lonely in the castle hall. 
 
 Where first he wedded me. 
 
 In loving life have I been thine, 
 
 (A love tho' not a wife) , 
 But now the grave that's waiting me 
 
 Shall be the end of strife." 
 
 He took her hand and kissed so sweet. 
 
 He groaned aloud with pain ; 
 'This sore disease hath taken her. 
 
 And grief hath crazed her brain. 
 
 Oh, we were wedded in yon chapelle. 
 
 Between marshland and lea. 
 And man and wife we rode that day 
 
 To Sandys by the sea." 
 
28 THE queen's quire. 
 
 Upon her cheeks of blanched snow 
 
 Came out the color red ; 
 ''Wedded with one I was, but thou 
 
 AVert not the man," she said. 
 
 "Now by the love thou bearest me. 
 
 And by the soul I gave, 
 I charge thee, bring the holy man 
 
 To shrive me for the grave. 
 
 And if my ghost would kindly rest 
 
 When of my bodye free. 
 My grave must be made wide and deep, 
 
 At Towers of Conway Lea." 
 
 His hands cling close to her pale hands , 
 With grief f alleth his head ; 
 
 "Nay, how may I withstand thy will? 
 Thy sweet ghost rest," he said. 
 
 Now bring the coffin and the pall, 
 Put off the diamond bands. 
 
 And clothe her in a shroud of lawn. 
 And clasp her slender hands. 
 
 In mute prayer, as she lieth still 
 Among her maidens weeping; 
 
 Now Jesu pardon her soul's sin. 
 And give her peaceful sleeping. 
 
 Oh, sweetly now the summer moon. 
 
 The full red moon of June, 
 Shone o'er the ships that spread their sails. 
 
 At sound o' the sailors' tune : 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 29 
 
 Oh, broadly now the summer moon, 
 
 Of soft and ruddy blee, 
 Shone o'er the dusky roofs and towers 
 
 Of Sandys by the sea : 
 
 And softly from the rose-gardens 
 
 That line the milk-white way, 
 Oh, sweetly from the gardens rang 
 
 The nightingale's sad lay : 
 
 Oh, sadly down the dim, white way, 
 
 With sobs instead of song 
 The dead-train o' the wan ladye 
 
 Wound solemnly along. 
 
 And woe it was for Lord St. John, 
 
 He rode at head o' the train, 
 With black upon his haughty crest, 
 
 And drooping plumes amain. 
 
 At Conway gates he stopped and rung ; 
 
 Quoth the ancient senechal, 
 "What cavalcade before the gate. 
 
 At dark midnight doth call? 
 
 A great lord, by his haughty crest. 
 
 And a dead-train at his back ; 
 At my time o' life, what is it to me 
 
 To get me down, alack. 
 
 And open the door to a phantom train?" 
 
 Quoth the ancient senechal : 
 Then down he got to the castle gate 
 
 And answered the horseman's call. 
 
30 THE queen's QUIEE. 
 
 Uprose in haste from his pillow 
 
 The Lord of Conway Lea, 
 And forthwith out of his bedchamber, 
 
 (With dead flowers decked) went he. 
 
 *'Who is it calleth at my gate?" 
 "I am the Lord St. John." 
 
 "Why comest thou to my castle gate?" 
 "My oath I act upon : 
 
 For so I vowed to my ladye dead, 
 At Tow^ers of Conway Lea, 
 
 When Death her soul had from it taken, 
 Her bodye should buried be." 
 
 Down from his dark-housed steed he got ; 
 
 His followers void of fear, 
 With shoulders bent for burthening. 
 
 Lowered the ladye's bier, 
 
 "Oh, whose this face that I look on, 
 
 This face so dear to me?" 
 And sadly fell his hot tears o'er 
 
 The face o' the wan ladye. 
 
 He hath kissed her on the cheeks and lips. 
 He hath called her name aloud ; 
 
 "Oh, why hast thou returned to me 
 In coffin and in shroud?" 
 
 Then up and spake the Lord St. John 
 
 To him of Conway Lea, 
 "With this broadsword that's at my thigh, 
 
 I'll strike through thy bodye." 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 31 
 
 "I pray thee tell what meaneth this, 
 
 For by St. Christopher, 
 This is my wife, twelve years agone 
 
 'Fore all I married her." 
 
 "A lie," fierce answered Lord St. John, 
 
 "By book and e'en by bell. 
 Wedded were we at dawn o' day. 
 
 In yonder small chapelle." 
 
 Oh, there was fierce fighting that night, 
 
 At Towers of Conway Lea, 
 Oh, there was stain of bloody gore 
 
 Where no blood-stain should be. 
 
 And one fell riven through the head, 
 
 T'other thro' the breast; 
 Around them fell their men-at-arms, 
 
 Bleeding and sore distressed. 
 
 But at the dawning o' the day 
 
 Uprose the Lord St. John, 
 And dragged him to the purple bier 
 
 His ladye lay upon. 
 
 His cheek pressed cold against her cheek, 
 
 His limbs sank cold and prone, 
 Oh, gayiy on his dying brow 
 
 The red sunlight shone. 
 
 The men-at-arms, some got them up 
 
 And staunched their flowing wounds, 
 
 And some lay stark, oh, ne'er again 
 To waken from their swounds. 
 
32 THE queen's quire. 
 
 Then groaned the ancient senechal, 
 "Ah, woe this day to see, 
 
 My lord is slain, the staff is broke 
 This day in Conway Lea." 
 
 He brought the wine and bandages, 
 
 He took up his master, 
 And bore him into the castle hall 
 
 Upon his bent shoulder. 
 
 Long wept the Lord of Conway Lea, 
 ''Would God I too were slain. 
 
 And lying buried in the grave 
 Wherein her bodye's lain. 
 
 Oh never in the fair, green land, 
 Was one more fair than she, 
 
 Her silken locks were braided broad. 
 And tawny was her e'e. 
 
 Oh never in the good, green land. 
 Bloomed any flower so fair, 
 
 Like twin-blown lilies v/ere her cheeks. 
 And tawny was her hair." 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 33 
 
 THE ANGEL OF DELIVERANCE. 
 
 And he that stood upon the bar of gold, 
 
 I saw his form against the blue like fire ; 
 
 Beneath him clouds of vivid purple rolled. 
 And voices of the sweet eternal choir 
 Breathed tender anthems ; o'er the blue, like fire 
 
 The heavenly hosts ranged, rank on rank untold. 
 
 Tall as the northern pine, in shining white. 
 
 About his garment's hem embroidered bells 
 
 In golden silk were wrought, with tracery slight 
 Of leaves and vines and flowering asphodels^ 
 With golden fringes and embroidered bells, 
 
 And round his breast an emerald girdle plight. 
 
 His face was like a star that nightly steeps 
 The midmost space in glory, and his eyes, 
 
 That pierced eternal mysteries, their deeps 
 
 Had drunk immortal splendors, the wrapt skies 
 Were hushed beneath the marvel of his eyes ; 
 
 His look was that of one who joys and weeps. 
 
 His holy brow, within his shadowy hair 
 
 Was smooth as ivory, and meekness, blent 
 
 With solemn majesty, was throned there ; 
 And his stern lips apart were softly bent, 
 Thereon and love and tenderness were blent, 
 
 As when one smiles between two words of prayer. 
 
 Within his outstretched hand a flaming brand, 
 
 Keen as the lightning that divides the cloud, 
 He held uplifted o'er the shadowy land ; 
 
34 THE queen's quire. 
 
 On distant peaks behind him, crowd on crowd 
 Of shining seraphs shore aside the cloud ; 
 Their purple wings the mellow twilight fanned. 
 
 And downward won a chorus thin and sweet 
 
 From those clear heights behind the blazing sun, 
 
 As should the Angelus the dawning greet, 
 So from on high the tender chorus won, 
 Thrilling the air behind the blazing sun. 
 
 And making distant heights the strain repeat. 
 
 Faint harps and dulcimers of golden strings 
 Made interlude melodious and soft, 
 
 And as those hosts waved wide their iris wings, 
 Thro' sunny depths of space sweeping aloft. 
 The air was drenched with wandering perfume, soft 
 
 As that which round Gul's crimson garden clings. 
 
 Then he that stood upon the burning bar 
 Put to his lips a gleaming ivory horn ; 
 
 The sonorous notes dispersed themselves afar ; 
 Straightway it seemed as if all sad things born 
 Entranced heard his sonorous ivory horn, 
 
 And joyed to hear all sorrowing things that are. 
 
 For prison doors wide from their grim bolts flew. 
 And yawning graves gave up their ghostly dead. 
 
 The scroll of heaven came as morning blue. 
 And every wail on earth was silenced : 
 For every empty arm received its dead, 
 
 And all the world laughed as when life was new. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 35 
 
 And every barren place with harvests smiled, 
 
 And purple fruits o'erhung the silver streams ; 
 
 The rugged ptiths with roses were beguiled. 
 The glory was the glory of SAveet dreams ; 
 Blue lotus flowers grew lush along the streams. 
 
 And laburnum flamed o'er the hoary wild. 
 
 All they that had been old grew young once more. 
 And faces that had furrowed been with tears 
 
 Renewed their bloom, and pallid foreheads wore 
 The solemn nimbus of immortal years ; 
 Old sorrows vanished and old rains of tears, 
 
 And old regrets their tyranny forswore. 
 
 From sunlight unto moonlight songbirds sang. 
 
 From moonlight unto sunlight sweethearts pined 
 
 In love's sweet ecstacy ; the high vault rang 
 
 All night with happy song : on beds reclined 
 Of rose and poppy, pensive sweethearts pined, 
 
 Singing to lute and dulcimer of love's dear pang. 
 
 The vision changed ; along the violet verge 
 
 Descended shapes which seemed like seraphim ; 
 
 On wings of flame cleaving the starry surge, 
 
 They crossed the skies and on the utmost rim 
 Sank from the sight, and other seraphim 
 
 I saw likewise between the stars emerge. 
 
 Then fell clear voices down the pulseless calm 
 
 Of violet space ; such voices as we hear 
 Between the Easter lily and the palm ; 
 
36 THE queen's quire. 
 
 Afar, then coming nearer and more near, 
 Sounded such fluting voices as we hear 
 On Easter morn, chanting a holy psalm. 
 
 And at the sound a jjerfect sweet content 
 
 Was transfused thro' this weary sorrowing heart; 
 
 Weary, sorrowing, with want and woe forspent. 
 
 And frenzied still with Grief's despairing smart, 
 Now through this sick, tormented, sorrowing heart, 
 
 The joy of heavenly satisfaction went. 
 
 I saw again the ivory evening star 
 
 Shed thro' the saffron west its lambent light, 
 And o'er the trailing aureoles afar 
 
 The strong, tall angel, clad in shining white; 
 
 I scarce might know his plumage from starlight. 
 Or from past sunsets his bright scimetar. 
 
 Joy shook my pulses and my awed soul thrilled 
 With shock of heavenly passion ; as I kneeled 
 
 I heard above the splash of founts that spilled 
 
 Their spray upon the dusk, soft bells which pealed 
 Adown the violet silence, as I kneeled, 
 
 The shadowy vale with melody was filled. 
 
 The pilgrim kneeled, with face pressed to the dew. 
 
 His tranced sight filled with splendor of high dreams ; 
 
 Perchance the angel soared beyond the blue. 
 Or mayhap, as some clearer vision deems, 
 Remained with him, the substance of his dreams. 
 
 The forerunner of Heaven's retinue. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 37 
 
 DIANA. 
 
 Her face peers weirdly o'er the gabled roof, 
 She scatters flakes of silver on the eaves. 
 
 Then draws about her brows the cloud's dark woof, 
 And listens to the wind-harp in the leaves. 
 
 Anon she flings the cloudy veil aside. 
 
 And shines forth in her beauty clear and keen ; 
 Thro' azure gulfs of glory sailing wide, 
 
 She fi.lls all earth and heaven with her sheen. 
 
 DANDELIONS. 
 
 In May, the dandelions with rich gold 
 
 Spangled the sunny satin-smooth green swards ; 
 In July-prime, grown wistful, wan and old. 
 
 They are the \a,zy south-wind's tender wards. 
 
 The lazy south-wind tempts the airy whorls, 
 With soft caresses, murmurs and beguiles. 
 
 Till each, o'ercome, its spirit plume unfurls 
 And floats away to unknown faery isles. 
 
 Lo, on the blue they spread their silken wings. 
 And sail away to faery lands unseen ; 
 
 While still the south-wind in the poplar sings, 
 
 And still the sun mellows the plundered green. 
 
38 THE queen's quire. 
 
 THE SHEPHEED BOY. 
 
 The shepherd boy has left his fleecy flocks, 
 To follow Daphne of the shining locks : 
 
 Return, return, O shepherd, to thy fold. 
 And run not after wandering fires of gold. 
 
 The shepherd boy has found the fair-faced maid. 
 And woos her neath the fragrant myrtle shade : 
 And now his snowy flocks uncared-for feed 
 In tangled woods, or on the oft-cropped mead. 
 
 BURNING BOUGHS. 
 
 Gay scarlet burns among the leaves, 
 The oak uplifts its flaming brand ; 
 
 But silhouetted on the sky. 
 
 The shadowy Pollard willov/s stand. 
 
 The wind drives hard the v/hirling snov/ 
 Of clouds across the violet. 
 
 And in each pine and burning bough, 
 A sweetly thrilling harp is set. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 39 
 
 NARCISSUS. 
 
 It fell that on a shining summer's day 
 When wearied with the hunt, beside the way- 
 Narcissus found a tranquil silver lake. 
 And leaning down, his eager thirst to slake, 
 (With limbs outstretched upon the silky grass), 
 Beheld his image in the liquid glass. 
 His tender cheek still wore the floret's bloom, 
 As red as roses' carmine ; the tawny gloom 
 Of the stag's eyes when in terror rolled, 
 Beneath his full-fringed eyelids showed ; red gold 
 Gleamed in his wind-tossed curls ; his dewy mouth 
 Was like a pouting rose, when as the south 
 Has warmed its beauty ripe ; more white than milk 
 His tender skin, more smooth than woven silk; 
 His polished limbs, stretched carelessly along 
 The herbage green, were delicate and strong; 
 No godlike charm or beauty did he lack, 
 His charms the waters smooth reflected back. 
 His own sweet image then he deemed the form 
 Of some shy naiad, with young beaut)'^ warm. 
 And he who had fond Echo's love denied. 
 Nor heeded when upon the hills she cried 
 His name beloved, now felt most fierce desire 
 Burn in his veins like a consuming fire. 
 Narcissus, lovely, rash and foolish boy. 
 Thee would the fierce Olympians destroy ! 
 See, how he languishes, and now he bends 
 Above the inconstant flood, and now he rends 
 
40 THE queen's QUIEE. 
 
 His golden locks, and tenderly complains 
 
 Of her, who, longing, yet his love disdains. 
 
 To her he promise makes of every toy, 
 
 And to his heaving breast strives clasp the coy 
 
 Illusive form deemed virginal and fit 
 
 His warm embraces to sustain ; and lit 
 
 With glowing fires, his troubled soft young eyes 
 
 He lifts to heaven, and lamentably sighs. 
 
 At last, with love and vain desires o'ercome, 
 
 He sinks upon the ground, with anguish dumb, 
 
 And rests his pale cheek on his arms, and weeps ; 
 
 His gilded locks in salty dew he steeps. 
 
 Scarce old enough of tears to be ashamed : 
 
 While she, of all young nymphs the gentlest named, 
 
 Fond Echo, grieving in his grief, would bring 
 
 New milk and honey fresh, striving the sting 
 
 From sorrow's wound to pluck; but in a pet. 
 
 With bitter Avords he drives her off, tho' yet 
 
 She patient lingers near, and from the hill 
 
 Shares in his melancholy vigil still. 
 
 Now Phoebus doAvn the blue steep swiftly rides. 
 And thro' the eastern gates pale Silene glides ; 
 Now Hera o'er the flowery fields and dales 
 The bright dew flings, and Zephyrus soft gales 
 Sets free o'er groves and slopes, and many a train 
 Of glittering stars treads down the skyey plain ; 
 But still the youth upon the grasses lies. 
 And still fond Echo answers his low cries : 
 Anon, o'ercome of love and grief, he stoops 
 Amid pale lilies and the tangled loops 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 41 
 
 Of purple flag, and, where the ripple breaks 
 
 Beneath the moon in scattered silver flakes, 
 
 Again beholds his image in the stream. 
 
 These tender eyes, as in a hallowed dream. 
 
 Give answer back, with longing smile for smile. 
 
 And unto bliss ineffable beguile ; 
 
 And, wistful neath the tangled golden curls. 
 
 This face looks at him from the shining purls : 
 
 The youth embraces coral lip to lip. 
 
 And feels the soft shape from his fond arms slip ; 
 
 Now panting, eager, he in vain would hold 
 
 The loved illusion which his arms enfold ; 
 
 Beneath his arms the yielding water flies, 
 
 And from his sight the tender image dies. 
 
 Like a frail flower o'erblown in wildest gales. 
 
 When thunders sound along the hollow vales, 
 
 And Zeus far his flaming fire-bolt hurls 
 
 Across the mountain where the thick rain whirls, 
 
 The boy once more sinks on the rushes prone. 
 
 Upon his famished lips a stifled moan 
 
 A moment stirs the forest's silent rest. 
 
 With face into the dewy grasses pressed. 
 
 At last he lies, quite motionless and still. 
 
 While timid Echo watches from the hill, 
 
 And Silene, stooping from her wandering chair, 
 
 Lays silvery touches on his silky hair. 
 
 Unto this spot came woodnjnnphs on a day, 
 Their limbs to lave and in the shade to play. 
 *'Who lieth here?" cried one, and whispering made 
 Her fellows hide within the deeper shade ; 
 
42 THE queen's quike. 
 
 Their conference with speech and gesture swift 
 
 They held, beliolding thro' a narrow rift 
 
 AVithin the boughs the boy hid in the sedge 
 
 Which lushly grew upon the fountain's edge: 
 
 At length emboldened by his silence they 
 
 The tMcket left and crossed the grassy way. 
 
 The fleetest nymph and tallest of the band 
 
 Came first, and bending, laid her snowy hand 
 
 Upon the dreamer's head, and smoothing light 
 
 The many-clustered curls, pressed kisses slight 
 
 Upon the lad's pale cheek ; an icy chill 
 
 Smote thro' her rosy lips and sent a thrill 
 
 Of fear into her heart; for aid she cried. 
 
 And all her fellows came and with her tried 
 
 To wake the slumbering youth ; and in their arms 
 
 Uplifted him, and sought with all great charms 
 
 His senses to restore ; and one caressed 
 
 And held him closely to her bosom pressed, 
 
 Another chafed his hands, another drew 
 
 The stiffened eyelids from his meek eyes blue ; 
 
 And one took water in her doubled palm 
 
 And sprinkled his wan brow, and some with balm 
 
 Of healing herbs anointed him In vain. 
 
 About him knelt the beauteous bright-eyed train. 
 
 With locks dishevelled, and with many tears 
 
 Bewailing his fair looks and tender years : 
 
 "Alas, sweet Narcisse, alas the boy. 
 
 What cruel god did thus his darts employ 
 
 To lay thee low? and ah, alas the hour 
 
 That stole from thee thy young life's happy dower." 
 
 And thus in many honied words of grief 
 
 They sought to give their gentle hearts relief. 
 
SONGS, SONNETS AND BALLADS. 43 
 
 "While constant Echo from her caverns still 
 
 Made ring the forests and the bosky hill. 
 
 Then she the tallest and the fairest one 
 
 Arose and turned toward the failing sun ; 
 
 His last beams stained her marble shoulders pink 
 
 And warmed the fountain's chill and misty brink, 
 
 And touched with flame the dead boy lying there, 
 
 With haloa brightening his brow and hair : 
 
 "Ye heavenly powers" (the tender woodnymph prayed) 
 
 "Who dwell on high Olympas, undismayed, 
 
 Who on Olympas dwell, from everj^ woe 
 
 Forevermore exempt, who cannot know 
 
 The grief of mortals, ever made to bend 
 
 Beneath the yoke of sorrows without end : 
 
 O Mercury, thou shepherd strong of souls. 
 
 Who leadeth safely thro' the darkening shoals 
 
 Of that sad river underneath the earth : 
 
 And thou who watcheth, goddess, at the birth 
 
 Of tender babes, Ye powers that rule above 
 
 And no less rule below, all ye that love 
 
 The gentle race of men, we thee implore 
 
 Give young Narcissus to our arms once more ! 
 
 See, where he lies, the beauteous one, all cold 
 
 And pale and helpless, who was once so bold 
 
 In war and chase, who made the forests ring 
 
 With joyous shouts ; who knew also to sing 
 
 And sweetly play the seven-jointed reed I 
 
 Alas, our voice no longer does he heed. 
 
 But lies all mute and helpless on the edge 
 
 Of this lone fountain, mid the whispering sedge. 
 
 Well was he loved by men and rosy maids, 
 
 And by the nymphs who haunt the oaken shades, 
 
44 THE queen's quire. 
 
 Ye loved him also ; heavenly powers restore 
 The young Narcissus to our arms once more." 
 She ceased, and as the shades began to fall 
 Her fellows with her spread a leafy pall 
 Upon the dead youth's form, and so withdrew 
 To watch until the morrow's morning blue 
 Should break in glory o'er the eastern sky. 
 
 And now when Phoebus' car ascended high 
 The nymphs again unto the fountain went. 
 And in a roseate glowing circle bent 
 Above the leafy pall which they had spread. 
 Lo, there no longer lay the lovely dead, 
 But where his head had lain, a starry bloom 
 Gleamed mid the green of leaves, and all the gloom 
 Of sighing woods was filled with perfume. Thus 
 Sprang first the shinins: flower, the Narcissus.