O Love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul thro' Before he mounts the hill, I know The wind sounds like a silver wire, And, isled in sudden seas of light, My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight, Bursts into blossom in his sight. My whole soul waiting silently, Droops blinded with his shining eye : I will grow round him in his place, H CENONE. THERE lies a vale in Ida, lovelier The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen, Behind the valley topmost Gargarus Stands up and takes the morning: but in front The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel, The crown of Troas. Hither came at noon Mournful Enone, wandering forlorn Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills. Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest. "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, of my life. "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Hear me O Earth, hear me O Hills, O Caves That house the cold crown'd snake! O mountain brooks, I am the daughter of a River-God, Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Leading a jet-black goat white-horn'd, white-hooved, "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. Far-off the torrent call'd me from the cleft: Far up the solitary morning smote The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes I sat alone: white-breasted like a star Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin And his cheek brighten'd as the foam-bow brightens "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm "My own Enone, Beautiful-brow'd Enone, my own soul, Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingrav'n "For the most fair," would seem to award it thine, As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace Of movement, and the charm of married brows.' "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. He prest the blossom of his lips to mine, Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each This meed of fairest. Thou, within the cave "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die It was the deep midnoon: one silvery cloud Had lost his way between the piney sides Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, And at their feet the crocus orake like fire, |