With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore
A better welcome to the tempest-tost;
And rarely ceased the haughty billow’s roar,
Save on the dead long summer days, which make
The outstretched Ocean glitter like a lake.
CLXXVIII
And the small ripple spilt upon the beach
Scarcely o’erpassed the cream of your champagne,
When o’er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach,
That spring-dew of the spirit! the heart’s rain!
Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please—the more because they preach in vain—
Let us have Wine and Woman,246 Mirth and Laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.
CLXXIX
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of Life is but intoxication:
Glory, the Grape, Love, Gold, in these are sunk
The hopes of all men, and of every nation;
Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk
Of Life’s strange tree, so fruitful on occasion!
But to return—Get very drunk, and when
You wake with headache—you shall see what then!
CLXXX
Ring for your valet—bid him quickly bring
Some hock and soda-water,247 then you’ll know
A pleasure worthy Xerxes the great king;
For not the blest sherbet, sublimed with snow,248
Nor the first sparkle of the desert-spring,
Nor Burgundy in all its sunset glow,249
After long travel, Ennui, Love, or Slaughter,
Vie with that draught of hock and soda-water!
CLXXXI
The coast—I think it was the coast that I
Was just describing—Yes, it was the coast—
Lay at this period quiet as the sky,
The sands untumbled, the blue waves untossed,
And all was stillness, save the sea-bird’s cry,
And dolphin’s leap, and little billow crossed
By some low rock or shelve, that made it fret
Against the boundary it scarcely wet.
CLXXXII
And forth they wandered, her sire being gone,
As I have said, upon an expedition;
And mother, brother, guardian, she had none,
Save Zoe, who, although with due precision
She waited on her lady with the Sun,
Thought daily service was her only mission,
Bringing warm water, wreathing her long tresses,
And asking now and then for cast-off dresses.
CLXXXIII
It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded,
Circling all Nature, hushed, and dim, and still,
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded
On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill
Upon the other, and the rosy sky
With one star sparkling through it like an eye.
CLXXXIV
And thus they wandered forth, and hand in hand,
Over the shining pebbles and the shells,
Glided along the smooth and hardened sand,
And in the worn and wild receptacles
Worked by the storms, yet worked as it were planned
In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells,
They turned to rest; and, each clasped by an arm,
Yielded to the deep Twilight’s purple charm.
CLXXXV
They looked up to the sky, whose floating glow
Spread like a rosy Ocean, vast and bright;250
They gazed upon the glittering sea below,
Whence the broad Moon rose circling into sight;
They heard the waves’ splash, and the wind so low,
And saw each other’s dark eyes darting light
Into each other—and, beholding this,
Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss;
CLXXXVI
A long, long kiss, a kiss of Youth, and Love,
And Beauty, all concentrating like rays
Into one focus, kindled from above;
Such kisses as belong to early days,
Where Heart, and Soul, and Sense, in concert move,
And the blood’s lava, and the pulse a blaze,
Each kiss a heart-quake—for a kiss’s strength,
I think, it must be reckoned by its length.
CLXXXVII
By length I mean duration; theirs endured
Heaven knows how long—no doubt they never reckoned;
And if they had, they could not have secured
The sum of their sensations to a second:
They had not spoken, but they felt allured,
As if their souls and lips each other beckoned,
Which, being joined, like swarming bees they clung—
Their hearts the flowers from whence the honey sprung.251
CLXXXVIII
They were alone, but not alone as they
Who shut in chambers think it loneliness;
The silent Ocean, and the starlight bay,
The twilight glow, which momently grew less,
The voiceless sands, and dropping caves, that lay
Around them, made them to each other press,
As if there were no life beneath the sky
Save theirs, and that their life could never die.
CLXXXIX
They feared no eyes nor ears on that lone beach;
They felt no terrors from the night; they were
All in all to each other: though their speech
Was broken words, they thought a language there—
And all the burning tongues the Passions teach252
Found in one sigh the best interpreter
Of Nature’s oracle—first love—that all
Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall.
CXC
Haidée spoke not of scruples, asked no vows,
Nor offered any; she had never heard
Of plight and promises to be a spouse,
Or perils by a loving maid incurred;
She was all which pure Ignorance allows,
And flew to her young mate like a young bird;
And, never having dreamt of falsehood, she
Had not one word to say of constancy.
CXCI
She loved, and was belovèd—she adored,
And she was worshipped after Nature’s fashion—
Their intense souls, into each other poured,
If souls could die, had perished in that passion—
But by degrees their senses were restored,
Again to be o’ercome, again to dash on;
And, beating ’gainst his bosom, Haidée’s heart
Felt as if never more to beat apart.
CXCII
Alas! they were so young, so beautiful,
So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour
Was that in which the Heart is always full,
And, having o’er itself no further power,
Prompts deeds Eternity can not annul,
But pays off moments in an endless shower
Of hell-fire—all prepared for people giving
Pleasure or pain to one another living.
CXCIII
Alas! for Juan and Haidée! they were
So loving and so lovely—till then never,
Excepting our first parents, such a pair
Had run the risk of being damned for ever:
And Haidée, being devout as well
