Arethusa
Arethusa aroseFrom her couch of snowsIn the Acroceraunian mountains,--From cloud and from crag,With many a jag,Shepherding her bright fountains.She leapt down the rocks,With her rainbow locksStreaming among the streams;--Her steps paved with greenThe downward ravineWhich slopes to the western gleams;And gliding and springingShe went, ever singing,In murmurs as soft as sleep;The Earth seemed to love her,And Heaven smiled above her,As she lingered towards the deep.
Then Alpheus bold,On his glacier cold,With his trident the mountains strook;And opened a chasmIn the rocks--with the spasmAll Erymanthus shook.And the black south windIt unsealed behindThe urns of the silent snow,And earthquake and thunderDid rend in sunderThe bars of the springs below.And the beard and the hairOf the River-god wereSeen through the torrent's sweep,As he followed the lightOf the fleet nymph's flightTo the brink of the Dorian deep.
'Oh, save me! Oh, guide me!And bid the deep hide me,For he grasps me now by the hair!'The loud Ocean heard,To its blue depth stirred,And divided at her prayer;And under the waterThe Earth's white daughterFled like a sunny beam;Behind her descendedHer billows, unblendedWith the brackish Dorian stream:--Like a gloomy stainOn the emerald mainAlpheus rushed behind,--As an eagle pursuingA dove to its ruinDown the streams of the cloudy wind.
Under the bowersWhere the Ocean PowersSit on their pearled thrones;Through the coral woodsOf the weltering floods,Over heaps of unvalued stones;Through the dim beamsWhich amid the streamsWeave a network of coloured light;And under the caves,Where the shadowy wavesAre as green as the forest's night:--Outspeeding the shark,And the sword-fish dark,Under the Ocean's foam,And up through the riftsOf the mountain cliftsThey passed to their Dorian home.
And now from their fountainsIn Enna's mountains,Down one vale where the morning basks,Like friends once partedGrown single-hearted,They ply their watery tasks.At sunrise they leapFrom their cradles steepIn the cave of the shelving hill;At noontide they flowThrough the woods belowAnd the meadows of asphodel;And at night they sleepIn the rocking deepBeneath the Ortygian shore;--Like spirits that lieIn the azure skyWhen they love but live no more.
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