"This may not be," the wizard maid replied;
"The fountains where the Naiades bedew
Their shining hair, at length are drained and dried;
The solid oaks forget their strength, and strew
Their latest leaf upon the mountains wide;
The boundless ocean, like a drop of dew
Will be consumed--the stubborn centre must
Be scattered, like a cloud of summer dust.

"And ye with them will perish one by one:
If I must sigh to think that this shall be,
If I must weep when the surviving Sun
Shall smile on your decay-Oh, ask not me
To love you till your little race is run;

I cannot die as ye must-over me

Your leaves shall glance-the streams in which ye dwell Shall be my paths henceforth, and so farewell!"

She spoke and wept: the dark and azure well

Sparkled beneath the shower of her bright tears,

And every little circlet where they fell,

Flung to the cavern-roof inconstant spheres
And intertangled lines of light :-a knell
Of sobbing voices came upon her ears
From those departing Forms, o'er the serene
Of the white streams and of the forest green

All day the wizard lady sat aloof,

Spelling out scrolls of dread antiquity
Under the cavern's fountain-lighted roof;
Or broidering the pictured poesy
Of some high tale upon her growing woof,
Which the sweet splendour of her smiles could dye
In hues outshining heaven-and ever she
Added some grace to the wrought poesy.

While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece
Of sandal wood, rare gums, and cinnamon;
Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is,
Each flame of it is as a precious stone
Dissolved in ever-moving light, and this
Belongs to each and all who gaze upon.

The Witch beheld it not, for in her hand
She held a woof that dimmed the burning brand.
This lady never slept, but lay in trance

All night within the fountain--as in sleep.
Its emerald crags glowed in her beauty's glance:
Through the green splendour of the water deep
She saw the constellations reel and dance

Like fire-flies-and withal did ever keep
The tenor of her contemplations calm,
With open eyes, closed feet, and folded palm.
And when the wirldwinds and the clouds descended
From the white pinnacles of that cold hill,
She pass'd at dewfall to a space extended,
Where in a lawn of flowering asphodel
Amid a wood of pines and cedars blended,
There yawned an inextinguishable well
Of crimson fire, full even to the brim,
And overflowing all the margin trim.

Within the which she lay, when the fierce war
Of wintry winds shook that innocuous liquor
In many a mimic moon and bearded star,

O'er woods and lawns-the serpent heard it flicker In sleep, and dreaming still, he crept afar

And when the windless snow descended thicker
Than autumn leaves, she watched it as it came,
Melt on the surface of the level flame.

She had a Boat which some say Vulcan wrought
For venus, as the chariot of her star;

But it was found too feeble to be fraught

With all the ardours in that sphere which are,

And so she sold it, and Apollo bought

And gave it to this daughter: from a car
Changed to the fairest and the lightest boat
Which ever upon mortal stream did float.

And others say, that, when but three hours old,
The first-born Love out of his cradle leapt,
And clove dun Chaos with his wings of gold,
And like an horticultural adept,

Stole a strange seed, and wrapt it up in mould,
And sowed it in his mother's star, and kept
Watering it all the summer with sweet dew,
And with his wings fanning it as it grew.

The plant grew strong and green-the snowy flower
Fell, and the long and gourd-like fruit began
To turn the light and dew by inward power
To its own substance: woven tracery ran
Of light firm texture, ribbed and branching, o'er
The solid rind, like a leaf's veined fan,.

Of which Love scooped this boat, and with soft motion
Piloted it round the circumfluous ocean.

This boat she moored upon her fount, and lit
A living spirit within all its frame,
Breathing the soul of swiftness into it.

Couched on the fountain like a panther tame,
One of the twain at Evan's feet that sit;
Or as on Vesta's sceptre a swift flame,
Or on blind Homer's heart a winged thought,-
In joyous expectation lay the boat.

Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow
Together, tempering the repugnant mass
With liquid love all things together grow
Through which the harmony of love can pass;
And a fair shape out of her hands did flow
A living Image, which did far surpass
In beauty that bright shape of vital stone
Which drew the heart out of Pygmalion.

A sexless thing it was, and in its growth
It seemed to have developed no defect
Of either sex, yet all the grace of both,-

In gentleness and strength its limbs were decked;
The bosom swelled lightly with its full youth,
The countenance was such as might select
Some artist that his skill should never die,
Imaging forth such perfect purity.

From its smooth shoulders hung two rapid wings,
Fit to have borne it to the seventh sphere,

Tipt with the speed of liquid lightnings,

Dyed in the ardours of the atmosphere: She led her creature to the boiling springs

Where the light boat was moored, and said-" Sit here!"

And pointed to the prow, and took her seat

Beside the rudder with opposing feet.

And down the streams which clove those mountains vast

Around their inland islets, and amid

The panther-peopled forests, whose shade cast
Darkness and odours, and a pleasure hid

In melancholy gloom, the pinnace pass'd,
By many a star-surrounded pyramid
Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky,
And caverns yawning round unfathomably.
The silver noon into that winding dell,

With slanted gleam athwart the forest tops,
Tempered like golden evening, feebly fell;

A green and glowing light, like that which drops
From folded lilies in which glow-worms dwell,
When earth, over her face night's mantle wraps;
Between the severed mountains lay on high
Over the stream, a narrow rift of sky.

And ever as she went, the Image lay

With folded wings and unawakened eyes,
And o'er its gentle countenance did play

The busy dreams, as thick as summer flies,
Chasing the rapid smiles that would not stay,
And drinking the warm tears, and the sweet sigh
Inhaling, which, with busy murmur vain,
They had aroused from that full heart and brain.
And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud
Upon a stream of wind, the pinnace went :
Now lingering on the pools, in which abode
The calm and darkness of the deep content
In which they paused; now o'er the shallow road
Of white and dancing waters all besprent
With sand and polished pebbles:-mortal boat
In such a shallow rapid could not float

And down the earthquaking cataracts which shiver
Their snow-like waters into golden air,
Or under chasms unfathomable ever

Sepulchre them, till in their rage they tear
A subterranean portal for the river,

It fled the circling sunbows did upbear Its fall, down the hoar precipice of spray, Lighting it far upon its lampless way.

And when the wizard lady would ascend

The labyrinths of some many-winding vale,
Which to the inmost mountain upward tend-
She called " Hermaphroditus!" and the pale
And heavy hue which slumber could extend
Over its lips and eyes, as on the gale

A rapid shadow from a slope of grass,
Into the darkness of the stream did pass.

And it unfurled its heaven-coloured pinions,
With stars of fire spotting the stream below;
And from above into the Sun's dominions
Flinging a glory, like the golden glow

In which spring clothes her emerald-winged minions,
All interwoven with fine feathery snow
And moonlight splendour of intensest rime,
With which frost paints the pines in winter time.

And then it winnowed the Elysian air

Which ever hung about that lady bright,
With its ethereal vans-and speeding there,
Like a star up the torrent of the night,
Or a swift eagle in the morning glare

Breasting the whirlwind with impetuous flight;
The pinnace, oared by those enchanted wings,
Clove the fierce streams towards their upper springs.

The water flashed like sunlight, by the prow
Of a noon-wandering meteor flung to Heaven;
The still air seemed as if its waves did flow

In tempest down the mountains,-loosely driven: The lady's radiant hair streamed to and fro

Beneath the billows, having vainly striven