Macmillan, 1881 - 208 pages

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Page 16 - Homaging to her beauty, laughed : She laughed The soft delicious laughter that makes mad ; Low warblings in the throat that clench man's life Tighter than prison bars. Then swayed a breath Of odorous rose and scented myrtle mixed, That toyed the golden radiance round her brows To wavy flames. When lo! sweet murmurings Spread sudden silence on that gathered host! And, as sped arrows to their mark ; as bees Drop promptly on the honey'd flower, as one Shone the three daughters of Eurynome ; Aglaia,...
Page 42 - Ianthe watched Admiringly, the chisel's dainty play Soften the valley 'twixt the cheek and mouth, Sweeten the laughter rippling thro' the lips, And fine the chin to rarer witchery. They might have waited long, for he was lost In Aphrodite's laugh and loveliness, As they were well-nigh lost regarding him. But prudently the Mother curbed her joy At her son's handcraft ; and solicitous That her main errand proved not profitless, Signed to...
Page 15 - ... bewildered sounds ; And the innumerable splashing feet Of monsters gambolling around their God, Forth shining on a seahorse, fierce, and finned. Some bestrode fishes glinting dusky gold, Or angry crimson, or chill silver bright ; Others jerked fast on their own scaly tails ; And seabirds, screaming upwards either side, Wove a vast arch above the Queen of Love, Who, gazing on this multitudinous Homaging to her beauty, laughed : She laughed The soft delicious laughter that makes mad ; Low warblings...
Page 41 - ... Graciously owned the care and gentleness She day by day bestowed. Then would she pour For him the wine : offer the bread and fruit : And maybe tarry to behold his skill Translating into substance visible Love's tenderness, or passion's smouldering depths. How shaped Aglaia's cheek against the charm Of Aphrodite's breast. How the sharp lines Of agony Prometheus must endure, Tortured less cruelly his spacious brow : Or gloomed the shades of power more deeply calm And terrible within the eyes of...
Page 48 - The sweetness of a wrestle with the charms Of one so well endowed. Your garments he Plucked at so wildly I began to dread We might become like old Tiresias When great Athena bathed ! Metharme, hush : Pray hush ! The Matron urged ; seeing how prompt Her Maidens' titter at the quaint conceit, Ianthe robbed and vanquished to her own White beauty bare, in native comeliness.
Page 48 - Ianthe spoke not but the blush remained. Doves softly cooing murmurs musical Gladdened unseen the darksome cloud of pines : Below bright-hued innumerable wings Carried love messages from flower to flower. For Spring's outstretching fingers nearly touched The Summer's welcoming hands. Pygmalion's work On Hebe's statue now was nearly done ; Tho...
Page 71 - ... daily life of his mother and her maidens, is written in flowing and unaffected verse. The sculptor is at work on a .statue of Hebe, for which lanthe, one of his mother's maidens, has stood as model. Aphrodite, whose aid he has invoked, promises him, — "Your Hebe shall have life And immortality. For times to come Shall sing your story. Not the sweetest dream, As stretched you lay on shadowed forest bank, Has ever promised such a paradise As mine awaiting you.
Page 51 - Ianthe was no longer there A part of daily labour, sometimes came The sense of want, or loss, as if the day Were chill with clouds. The habit had so grown Of looking to her form for guidance sure, Often he found himself at gaze upon The empty platform where she sometime stood Earnestly bent on giving him all aid. And when at noon Ianthe came, the clouds Vanished to nothing in the golden prime.
Page 44 - ... meek ! But now You looked as a great Hebe meet to fill His goblet for high Zeus sitting enthroned Moved in the pure white blossom of her cheeks A tinge of rose : taking the cup she placed It down ; then brought him bread and fruit. He cried, O mother, give me your assent and I Will carve lanthe as she stood erewhile Pouring the wine, a Hebe, child of Zeus And Hera, pouring nectar for the God 1 In her deep eyes there shone an upward awe As though she gazed at Zeus gazing at her.
Page 49 - As flight of lark singing in deepest blue To creeping unwinged things. But now, alas ! He could not through her features penetrate And find the glory which he knew must dwell In Hebe's brow. Perfect was her face. From dark gray eyes of dawn the gazer's sight Would tenderly on her pure forehead rest.

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