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(p. 16)

 

4.

 

HYLAS

 

            THROUGH the valleys of Arganthus,

            Through the whispering woods and forests

            Where the birds make pleasant music

            In among the swinging branches,

            Wandering came the youthful Hylas,

            Hylas, fairer than the day-star.

 

            Lightly o’er the trembling grasses

            Fell the gentle steps of Hylas,

            And the fitful sunlight shimmered

            Down upon his yellow ringlets,

            Till they kindled into fire,

            Like the golden rays encircling

            The majestic brows of godhead.

 

            By the margin of the river

            Paused to rest the weary Hylas,

            And the breeze with noiseless footstep

            Followed o’er the yielding mosses,

(p. 17)

            And among the floating clusters

            Of his golden curls she whispered

            Wanton sighs of love and rapture.

 

            Still he sat beside the river,

            Sat, and watched the sunbeams playing

            In between the woven masses

            Of the foliage nodding o’er him:

            Watched the sun with golden helmet

            Shining o’er his crimson mantle,

            Sinking in the hues of evening,

            Sinking in the western purple;

            Like the warrior god victorious

            Home returning from the battle

            To the far-off gates of heaven!

 

            Then upon the tender mosses,

            Hylas laid his head and slumbered,

            While the panting waves beside him,

            Drowsy in the purple sunlight,

            Rippled out their sleepy music,

            And the bending flags and rushes

            Hung their dreamy heads and nodded;

            And from the transparent waters

            Peeped the nymphs, the timid naiads,

            Peeped the lovely blue-eyed daughters

            Of the lonely Thynian river;

            With their light robes round them waving

            In the fragrant breath of evening,

(p. 18)

            And their crispy golden tresses

            Floating downward like the sunlight

            On the bosom of the river.

 

            Slowly from the limpid water

            Bright with thousand sunset glories

            In its glassy depths reflected,

            Hand in hand the nymphs ascended,

            And with wondering glances saw they

            What fair form of mortal seeming

            Slept upon his mossy pillow

            By the silent river margin.

 

            Then they crept with timid footstep

            Softly in among the feathered

            Weeds and leaflets of the shallows,

            Twisted in and out in clusters

            Round the couch where Hylas slumbered.

            And awhile those lovely maidens

            Silent stood, and wondered at him,

            And for his fair face, they loved him,

            For his youth and golden tresses,

            For his wondrous grace and sweetness.

            So they loved and longed to keep him,

            Evermore to be their playmate,

            Down beneath the sparkling waters,

            Where all day the tender sunlight

            Sleeps among the reeds and sedges,

            In the bosom of the river.

 

(p. 19)

            Then in their white arms they bore him

            Wakened, wondering, down the waters

            Out into the deepening current,

            Singing as they floated onward,

            Many a song of wondrous sweetness,

            Like the songs of the Immortals

            Wafted through the vales at even

            From the heights of far Olympus.

 

            Thus they floated down the river,

            Through the holy air of evening,

            Till they lost themselves in sunlight,

            In the flood of misty radiance,

            Till the music of their voices

            Faded wholly into silence,

            And the dreamy waves sang only

            On the pebbles of the margin;

            And above them, pallid Vesper

            Rising o’er the broad Propontis

            Glimmered through the bending branches,

            And beheld them floating westward,

            Westward through the fading purple,

            Like the misty forms that mingle

            In the phantasies of slumber.

 

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