Canto I (Ye rocky heights of Chios, where…)

Ye rocky heights of Chios, where the snow, Lit by the far-off and receding moon, Now feels the soft dawn's purpling twilight creep Over your ridges, while the singing dews, Like creatures on a mission from the spheres, Swarm down, and wait to be instinct with gold And solar fire!—ye mountains waving brown With thick-winged woods, and blotted with deep caves In secret places; and ye paths that stray E'en as ye list; what odours and what sighs Tend your sweet silence through the star-showered night, Like memories breathing of the Goddess forms That left your haunts, yet with the day return! The shadow of a stag that fled across, Followed by a Giant's shadow with a spear!

2"Hunter of Shadows, thou thyself a Shade," Be comforted in this,—that substance holds No higher attributes; one sovran law Alike develops both, and each shall hunt Its proper object, each in turn commanding The primal impulse, till gaunt Time become A shadow cast on space, to fluctuate, Waiting the breath of the Creative Power To give new types for substance yet unknown: So from faint nebulæ bright worlds are born; So worlds return to vapour. Dreams design Most solid lasting things, and from the eye That searches life, death evermore retreats.

2The shadowy chase has vanished; round the swell Of the near mountain sweeps a bounding stag— Round whirls a god-like Giant close behind— O'er a fallen trunk the stag with slippery hoofs Stumbles—his sleek knees lightly touch the grass— Upward he springs—but in his forward leap, The Giant's hand hath caught him fast beneath One shoulder tuft, and lifted high in air, Sustains! Now Phoibos' chariot rising bursts Over the summits with a circling blaze, Gilding those frantic antlers, and the head Of that so glorious Giant in his youth, Who, as he turns, the form succinct beholds Of Artemis,—her bow, with points drawn back, A golden hue on her white rounded breast Reflecting, while the arrow's ample barb Gleams o'er her hand, and at his heart is aimed.

2The Giant lowered his arm—away the stag Breast forward plunged into a thicket near; The Goddess paused, and dropt her arrow's point— Raised it again—and then again relaxed Her tension, and while slow the shaft came gliding Over the centre of the bow, beside Her hand, and gently drooped, so did the knee Of that heroic shape do reverence Before the Goddess. Their clear eyes had ceased To flash, and gazed with earnest softening light.

2His stature, though colossal, scarcely seemed Beyond the heroic mould, such symmetry His form displayed; and in his countenance A noble honesty and ardour beamed, With child-like faith, unconscious of themselves, And of the world, its vanities and guile. Eyes of deep blue, large waves of chestnut locks, A forehead wide, and every feature strong, Yet without heaviness or angry line, Had he; and as he knelt, a trustful smile That dreads no consequence, and quite forgets All danger, lightly played around his mouth. Meanwhile the Nymphs and all the sylvan troop, Like wave on wave when coloured by the clouds, Pell-mell come rolling round the mountain side, And crowd around the Goddess, who commands The hunt to pause. At once the music stops— And all the hounds, with wistful looks, crouch down.

2"Young Giant of the woods," said Artemis, "The bow, that ne'er till now its glittering points Bent back without recoil and whirring twang— That sound a shaft's flight, and that flight a death— For once to its quiescent shape returns Unsated. 'Midst these woodland vales and heights Seldom I rove, but from my train, have Nymphs Permission sought full oft to lead the chase Among these echoes and these fleeting shades. Thee have they seen, as now, bounding beyond Their swiftest hounds to bear the stag away, As thou once more hadst surely done this morn, But for my presence. Say, then, whence thou spring'st; Where dwell'st thou—how art called—and wherefore thus Dar'st thou the sports of these my Wood-nymphs mar?"

2"Goddess!" the Giant answered "I am sprung From the great Trident-bearer, who sustains And rocks the floating earth, and from the nymph— A huntress joying in the dreamy woods— Euryale. Little I use to speak, Save to my kindred giants, who in caves Amid yon forest dwell, beyond the rocks, Or to my Cyclop friends; nor know I what words Best suit a Goddess' ear. I and the winds Do better hold our colloquies, when shadows, After long hunting, vanish from my sight Into some field of gloom. I am called 'Orion,'— And for the sports I have so often marred, 'T was for my own I did it, but without A thought of whose the Nymphs, or least design Of evil. Wherefore, Artemis, pardon me; Or if again thou'dst bend thy bow, first let me To great Poseidon offer up a prayer, That his divine waves with absorbing arms May take my body rather than dull earth."

2With attitude relaxed from queenly pride To yet more queenly grace, the shaft she placed Within her burnished quiver, and the bow A Nymph unstrung, while with averted face— As gazing down the woodland vista slopes, Which oft her bright orb silvered through black shades When midnight throbbed to silence—Artemis asked, "And who are these thy brothers of the cave, And why dost with the Cyclops hold consort?"

2"My wood-friends, all of ancestry renowned, Claim for their sires heroes, or kings, or gods; And two of them have seen the ways of men;" Orion answered, while with uplifted breast, Like a smooth wave o'ergilded by the morn, High heaving ere it cast itself ashore, Buoyant, elate, and massively erect, He stood. "They are my kindred thus descended, And, though not brothers, yet we recognize A sort of brotherhood in this decree Of fate, or Zeus,—that nature filled our frames With larger share of bodily elements Than others mortal born. Seven giants we, Of different minds, and destinies, and powers, Yet glorified alike in corporal forms. Few are my years, O Artemis! few my needs, Though large my fancied wants, and small my knowledge, Save of one art. Earth's deep metallic veins Hephæstos taught me to refine and forge To shapes that in my fancy I devised, For use or ornament. To the lame God Grateful I felt, nor knew what thanks to give; But, ere a shadow-hunter I became— A dreamer of strange dreams by day and night— For him I built a palace underground, Of iron, black and rough as his own hands. Deep in the groaning disembowelled earth, The tower-broad pillars and huge stanchions, And slant supporting wedges I set up, Aided by the Cyclops who obeyed my voice Which through the metal fabric rang and pealed In orders echoing far, like thunder-dreams. With arches, galleries, and domes all carved— So that great figures started from the roof And lofty coignes, or sat and downward gazed On those who strode below and gazed above— I filled it; in the centre framed a hall: Central in that, a throne; and for the light, Forged mighty hammers that should rise and fall On slanted rocks of granite and of flint, Worked by a torrent, for whose passage down A chasm I hewed. And here the God could take, Midst showery sparks and swathes of broad gold fire, His lone repose, lulled by the sounds he loved; Or, casting back the hammer-heads till they choked The water's course, enjoy, if so he wished, Midnight tremendous, silence, and iron sleep."

2Thus in rough phrase, and with no other grace Than forthright truth, Orion told his tale; Then smiling looked around upon the Nymphs, Till all their bright eyes glowed and turned aside; And then he gazed down at the couchant hounds, Whose eyes and ears grew interrogative, For well the fleet-heeled robber they all knew.

2Now spake an Ocean-nymph with sea-green eyes: "Goddess, he hath not told thee all; his skill And strength, unaided—singing as he wrought— Scooped out the bay of Zankle, framed its port; Banked up the rampire that forbids the surge To break o'er Sicily; and a temple built To the sea-deities." "I had forgot;" Orion said: "These things, long since, were done."

2"Hunter, I pardon thee, and from my Nymphs All memory of thy late offence I take, As though they ne'er had seen thee:" Artemis said, With a sweet voice and look. "Retire awhile, Ye sylvan troop, to yonder deep-mossed dell; And thou, Orion, henceforth in my train Thy station take." More had the Goddess said, But o'er the whiteness of a neck that ne'er One tanned kiss from the ardent sun received, A soft suffusion came; and waiting not Reply, her silver sandals glanced i' the rays, As doth a lizard playing on a hill, And on the spot where she that instant stood Nought but the bent and quivering grass was seen.

2Above the isle of Chios, night by night, The clear moon lingered ever on her course, Covering the forest foliage, where it swept In its unbroken breadth along the slopes, With placid silver; edging leaf and trunk Where gloom clung deep around; but chiefly sought With melancholy splendour to illume The dark-mouthed caverns where Orion lay Dreaming among his kinsmen. Ere the breath Of Phoibos' steeds rose from the wakening sea, And long before the immortal wheel-spokes cast Their hazy apparition up the sky Behind the mountain peaks, pale Artemis left Her fainting orb, and touched the loftiest snows With feet as pure, and white, and crystal cold, In the sweet misty woodland to rejoin Orion with her Nymphs. And he was blest In her divine smile, and his life began A new and higher period, nor the haunts Of those his giant brethren ever sought, But shunned them and their ways, and slept alone Upon a verdant rock, while o'er him floated The clear moon, causing music in his brain Until the sky-lark rose. He felt 't was love.