I met, far gone in liquor, that old man, So far so well, For we have proved the Mago never fell Down stairs on Crafticanto's evidence; And therefore duly shall proceed to tell, Plain in our own original mood and tense, The sequel of this day, though labour 'tis immense!" T LAMIA. PART I. PON a time, before the faery broods Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods, Before King Oberon's bright diadem, Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem, From rushes green, and brakes, and cowslipp'd lawns, His golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft: "This tragedy (King Stephen) gave place to Lamia, a Poem, which had been in hand for some months. He wrote it with great care, after much study of Dryden's composition."-CHARLES BROWN. Pearls, while on land they wither'd and adored. Fast by the springs where she to bathe was wont, And in those meads where sometimes she might haunt, Were strewn rich gifts, unknown to any Muse, Fallen in jealous curls about his shoulders bare. In vain; the sweet nymph might nowhere be found Round bush and tree, soft-brushing in his speed Bright and cirque-couchant, in a dusky brake. She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue, Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue; Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard, Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd; And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed, Dissolved, or brighter shone, or interwreathed Their lustres with the gloomier tapestriesSo rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self. Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire Sprinkled with stars, like Ariadne's tiar: Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet! She had a woman's mouth with all its pearls complete; And for her eyes. what could such eyes do there But weep and weep, that they were born so fair, As Proserpine still weeps for her Sicilian air? Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake Came, as through bubbling honey, for Love's sake, And thus, while Hermes on his pinions lay, Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey: "Fair Hermes! crown'd with feathers, fluttering light, I had a splendid dream of thee last night! Nor even Apollo when he sang alone, Deaf to his throbbing throat's long, long melodious moan. I dreamt I saw thee, robed in purple flakes, Break amorous through the clouds, as morning breaks, And swiftly as a bright Phoebean dart Strike for the Cretan isle; and here thou art! Too gentle Hermes, hast thou found the maid ?” Whereat the star of Lethe not delay'd His rosy eloquence, and thus inquired: "Thou smooth-lipp'd serpent, surely high-inspired! Thou beauteous wreath, with melancholy eyes, Possess whatever bliss thou canst devise, Telling me only where my nymph is fledWhere she doth breathe!" "Bright planet, thou hast said," Return'd the snake, "but seal with oaths, fair God!" "I swear," said Hermes, "by my serpent rod, And by thine eyes, and by thy starry crown!" Light flew his earnest words, among the blossoms blown. Then thus again the brilliance feminine: About these thornless wilds; her pleasant days Of Satyrs, Fauns, and blear'd Silenus' sighs. Of all these lovers, and she grieved so |