The deeper I look'd,- till I sank on the snow To hide me from her the true Ægle that came With the words on her lips the false witch had foregiv'n To make me immortal for now I was even At the portals of Death, who but waited the hush Of that voice that was drown'd in the dash of the stream! How fain had I follow'd, and plunged with that scream Into death, but my being indignantly lagg'd Through the brutaliz'd flesh that I painfully dragg'd Behind me: "O Circe! O mother of Spite! Speak the last of that curse! and imprison me quite In the husk of a brute, that no pity may name The man that I was, that no kindred may claim The monster I am! Let me utterly be Brute-buried, and Nature's dishonour with me Uninscribed!" -But she listen'd my prayer, that was praise To her malice, with smiles, and advised me to gaze On the river for love, and perchance she would make In pity a maid without eyes for my sake, And she left me like Scorn. Then I ask'd of the wave, There I wander'd in sorrow, and shunn'd the abodes Of men, that stood up in the likeness of Gods, But I saw from afar the warm shine of the sun On their cities, where man was a million, not one; And I saw the white smoke of their altars ascending, That show'd where the hearts of the many were blending, And the wind in my face brought shrill voices that came From the trumpets that gather'd whole bands in one fame As a chorus of man, and they stream'd from the gates Like a dusky libation pour'd out to the Fates. But at times there were gentler processions of peace That I watch'd with my soul in my eyes till their cease, There were women! there men ! but to me a third sex I saw them all dots I loved them as specks: yet And oft to assuage a sad yearning of eyes I stole near the city, but stole covert-wise Like a wild beast of love, and perchance to be smitten By some hand that I rather had wept on than bitten! Oh, I once had a haunt near a cot where a mother Daily sat in the shade with her child, and would smother Its eyelids in kisses, and then in its sleep Sang dreams in its ear of its manhood, while deep In a thicket of willows I gazed o'er the brooks That murmur'd between us and kiss'd them with looks; But the willows unbosom'd their secret, and never For the haunters of fields they all shunn'd me by flight, The men in their horror, the women in fright; But with strength of black locks and with eyes azure bright To grow to large manhood of merciful might. He came, with his face of bold wonder, to feel And question'd my face with wide eyes; but when under He stroked me, and utter'd such kindliness then, That the once love of women, the friendship of men In past sorrow, no kindness e'er came like a kiss On my heart in its desolate day such as this! And I yearn'd at his cheeks in my love, and down bent, And lifted him up in my arms with intent To kiss him, but he cruel-kindly, alas! Held out to my lips a pluck'd handful of grass! The stone he indignantly hurl'd at my head, but I felt not, whose fate Was to meet more distress in his love than his hate! Thus I wander'd, companion'd of grief and forlorn, To his son even such as he left him. Oh, how Like Gods to my humbled estate? or how bear The steeds once the pride of my eyes and the care |