Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/19

So dawned upon the maiden's waking mind
The far-off memory of her life resigned,
And all her former learning in its train,
Feelings, and thoughts, and knowledge came again.
⁠Now beauty's prime, that craves from art no aid.
Ripened the loveliness of that young maid—
That scorns the wine-cup's help to fire the heart,
The bow of Love without his flowery dart;
There was a glory beaming from her face,
With love's own light, and every youthful grace:
Ne'er pictured lily more divinely fair
Unclosed her beauty to the morning air.
⁠Bright as a Lotus, springing where she trod,
Her glowing feet shed radiance o'er the sod:
That arching neck, the step, the glance aside.
The proud swans taught her as they stemmed the tide,
Whilst of the maiden they would fondly learn
Her anclets' pleasant music in return.
⁠When the Almighty Maker first began
The marvellous beauty of that child to plan.
In full fair symmetry each rounded limb
Grew neatly fashioned and approved by Him:
The rest was faultless, for the Artist's care
Formed each young charm most excellently fair.
As if his moulding hand would fain express
The visible type of perfect loveliness.
⁠What thing of beauty may the poet dare
With the smooth wonder of those limbs compare?
The young tree springing by the brooklet's side—
The rounded trunk, the forest-monarch's pride?
O no!—too cold, too chilling cold, the tree,—
This, too unyielding for such rivalry.