The Sibyl to Her Lover

Roam,—the wide world before thee,
O'er mount, o'er vale, o'er stream, o'er sea,
Roam,—outspread before the gale,
Even if it rend thy swelling sail.
Beware of the sunny isles!
Trust not their rosy smiles.

I,—what am I to thee?
A speck on thy life's morning sea,—
Soon shalt thou forget me,
Thou honey-gathering bee;
With thy laden freight shalt pass
Over all the earth to day,
Sweeping, as the bending grass
Lives beneath the wild air's play.

Set thy canvass to the wind,
Thy rudder man for ocean war,
And cleaving, leave the land behind,
Thy rushing course pursuing far.
Beware of the sunny isles!
Trust not their rosy smiles.

Look not on beauty for thy mate,
Nor sparkling wine, nor fantasy;
But drink the perfect desolate
Of some wild, lofty misery.
Beware of the sunny isles!
Trust not their rosy smiles.

Thy goblet will not hold a draught.
What lips can drain from half a rim?
Nor canst thou mould it whole by craft,
Though fused its ore in starlight dim.
Away! Thou sail'st the misty sea,
A nervèd hand, and sparkling free.

Away! away! delay no more,
I see thy cavern's thunder cloud;
Put off! put off! and hate the shore,
Before thy life with storm is bowed.
Beware the sounds of single-hearted time,
For they will chill thee like the hoar frost's rime.

Weave but one circlet for thy hair,
Twine but one chaplet for thy brow;
A wreath of floating, azure air,
And into it the sunlight throw,
Let gold hide 'neath the twisted braid
Heart's blood, as it is sometimes said.

Thy robe shall stream like crimson bars,
That fleck the sunset banner wide,
And float above thy ruby wars,
As it in gore were richly dyed.
And warm and sweet thy life shall be
Across the fathoms of the sea.

Wait but the hour,—thy course is run;
Life's carpentry will build no more;
Thou shalt sit silenced in the dun,
Perpetual tempests' sluggish roar;
Those velvet tresses soft and free,
Slimed and disfigured then shall be.

Bide not thy time, heed not thy fate,
Believe no truth, respect no law,
Fling to the winds foul custom's state,
And play with every antique saw;
For in thee hides a matchless light,
That splendors all the dreaming night.

Thy bark shall be a precious stone,
In whose red veins deep magic hides;
Thy ecstasies be known to none,
Except those vast perpetual tides
Which circulate the world's wide round,
But whisper not the lightest sound.

Away! away! thou starlit breath,
On bended knees I pray thee, go!
O bind thy temples not with death,
Nor let thy shadow fall on snow.
Beware of the sunny isles!
Trust not their rosy smiles.

See how the morning gilds the main,
See how the sun sets splendidly,
And mark thy graceful vessel's gain
When thou art flashing through the sea,
While crested cliffs hiss madly near,
Or the long reach sheds seaweeds' tear.

No sunken rock shall shatter thee,
No blasting wind thy bark pursue,
But thou shalt sail as comes to me
The forest's anthem, just and true;
Spread thy green canvass to the breeze,
Thy bows surrender to the seas.

Thy music shall the sunset star
Tune spherally in liquid light,
Thy jewelled couch the south inbar
Within the curtains of the night,
And fold thee in those clustering arms,
To sing thee deep in dreamiest charms.
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