Away in the green paradise,
As I wandered unseen,
(How glad was her mien!),
I saw her as you now arise;
Before her I trod
O'er the green Eden-sod,
And I sang round the tree,
As I sing now to thee:
From the shadowy hollow
Come follow! Come follow!
[The Voice sings, dying away.]
And I sang round the tree,
As I sing now to thee:
From the green shaded hollow
Arise, worm, and follow!
Antonio. I, too, will follow for this evil-starred one's sake
Unto the dolorous border of the fairy lake.
Scene III.
The Birth of Night.—The Island.—Far into the distance reach shadowy ways, burdened with the faery flowers. Knee-deep amongst them stand the immovable figures of those who have failed in their quest.
First Voice. See! oh, see! the dew-drowned bunches
Of the monk's-hood how they shake,
Nodding by the flickering lake,
There where yonder squirrel crunches
Acorns green, with eyes awake.
Second Voice. I followed him from my green lair,
But wide awake his two eyes were.
First Voice. Oh, learnèd is each monk's-hood's mind,
And full of wisdom is each bloom,
As, clothed in ceremonial gloom,
They hear the story of the wind,
That dieth slow with sunsick doom.
Second Voice. The south breeze now in dying fears
Tells all his sinning in their ears.
First Voice. He says 'twas he, and 'twas no other,
Blew my crimson cap away
O'er the lake this very day.
Hark! he's dead—my drowsy brother,
And has not heard Absolvo te.
First Voice. Peace, peace, the earth's a-quake. I hear
Some barbarous, un-faery thing draw near.
Enter Almintor.
Almintor. The evening gleams are green and gold and red
Along the lake. The crane has homeward fled.
And flowers around in clustering thousands are,
Each shining clear as some unbaffled star;
The skies more dim, though burning like a shield,
Above these men whose mouths were sealed
Long years ago, and unto stone congealed.
And, oh! the wonder of the thing! each came
When low the sun sank down in clotted flame
Beyond the lake, whose smallest wave was burdened
With rolling fire, beyond the high trees turbaned
With clinging mist, each star-fought wanderer came
As I, to choose beneath day's dying flame;
And they are all now stone, as I shall be,
Unless some pitying god shall succour me
In this my choice.
Some god might help; if so
Mayhap 'twere better that aside I throw
All choice, and give to chance for guiding chance
Some cast of die, or let some arrow glance
For guiding of the gods. The sacred bloom
To seek not hopeless have I crossed the gloom,
With that song leading where harmonic woods
Nourish the panthers in dim solitudes;
Vast greenness, where eternal Rumour dwells,
And hath her home by many-folded dells.
I passed by many caves of dripping stone,
And heard each unseen Echo on her throne,
Lone regent of the woods, deep muttering,
And then new murmurs came new uttering
In song, from goblin waters swaying white,
Mocking with patient laughter all the night
Of those vast woods; and then I saw the boat,
Living, wide wingèd, on the waters float.
Strange draperies did all the sides adorn,
And the waves bowed before it like mown corn,
The wingèd wonder of all Faery Land.
It bore me softly where the shallow sand
Binds, as within a girdle or a ring,
The lake-embosomed isle. Nay, this my quest
Shall not so hopeless prove: some god may rest
Upon the wind, and guide mine arrow's course.
From yonder pinnacle above the lake.
I'll send mine arrow, now my one resource;
The nighest blossom where it falls I'll take.
A Voice. Fickle the guiding his arrow shall find!
Some goblin, my servant, on wings that are fleet,
That nestles alone in the whistling wind,
Go pilot the course of his arrow's deceit!
Almintor. 'Tis here the arrow fell: the breezes laughed
