Egeria

A dream of that dim legendary time When the gods talked with mortals, and could leave Their starry home to gaze on women’s eyes.

On a fair summer’s morn, when all was still, Save the reed’s rustling in the breeze, which fell Like distant voices murmuring on the ear, Or the shrill halcyon, which sailed slowly by, Tipping his wings with purple in the sun; Once ’neath the golden linden’s glimmering shade, Upon the deep-red summer grass there sat Numa, and near the beating of his heart, With velvet limbs, white as the ocean foam, A nymph of more than mortal mien, whose love Was all too great for heaven, and so she longed To perfect it with sorrow in this world. There, often, she would open Nature’s book, Interpreting its mystic eloquence, Telling him secrets of each living thing, From the grey torrent to the clinging moss,— Or listen, tremulous, in a bright excess Of rosy modesty, the while he spoke, With wistful eagerness; more often full Of gentler thoughts than any this earth knows She sang, Cassandra-like, with dim faint eyes, Whose lids dropped gathered nectar, while the leaves Of amaranth were waving on her brow, How the great golden age had passed away, And how the harmonious chords of peace and love Should be unstrung, and sound again no more.

So Numa, by the music of her voice, In such sweet sorrow was imparadised, That life was like a dream; till in his soul Those sacred germs of nobler birth than dust Grew strong beneath her smiling influence, And left fair deeds of fame to future time. Thus would they talk in language kind and low Like lovers watched, though there was none to hear, And heeded not the hours, till her grey eyes Grew darker in the twilight, and the dew Shone in her hair like drops of silver rain; Till the warm sunset faded, and the stars Peeped forth to watch the dying of the day.