-
Dost weep for me? Then should I be content.
Scowl on, ye fates! until the firmament
Outblackens Erebus, and the full-cavern'd earth
Crumbles into itself. By the cloud girth
Of Jove, those tears have given me a thirst
To meet oblivion."- As her heart would burst
The maiden sobb'd awhile, and then replied:
"Why must such desolation betide
As that thou speak'st of? Are not these green nooks
Empty of all misfortune? Do the brooks
Utter a gorgon voice? Does yonder thrush,
Schooling its half-fledg'd little ones to brush
About the dewy forest, whisper tales?-
Speak not of grief, young stranger, or cold snails
Will slime the rose to night. Though if thou wilt,
Methinks 'twould be a guilt- a very guilt-
Not to companion thee, and sigh away
The light- the dusk- the dark- till break of day!"
"Dear lady," said Endymion, "'tis past:
I love thee! and my days can never last.
That I may pass in patience still speak:
Let me have music dying, and I seek
No more delight- I bid adieu to all.
Didst thou not after other climates call,
And murmur about Indian streams?"- Then she,
Sitting beneath the midmost forest tree,
For pity sang this roundelay-
"O Sorrow,
Why dost borrow
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?-
To give maiden blushes
To the white rose bushes?
Or is't thy dewy hand the daisy tips?
"O Sorrow,
Why dost borrow
The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye?-
To give the glow-worm light?
Or, on a moonless night,
To tinge, on syren shores, the salt sea-spry
"O Sorrow,
Why dost borrow
The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?-
To give at evening pale
Unto the nightingale,
That thou mayst listen the cold dews among?
"O Sorrow,
Why dost borrow
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?-
A lover would not tread
A cowslip on the head,
Though he should dance from eve till peep of day-
Nor any drooping flower
Held sacred for thy bower,
Wherever he may sport himself and play.
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