_The Roman fell_: _his firm-set bound_ _Became the Saxon’s stay_; _The bells made music all around_ _For monks in cloisters grey_, _Till fled the monks in disarray_ _From their warm chantry’s fold_, _Old Abbots slumber as they may_, _Beside your manor old_! _ENVOY_. _Creeds_, _empires_, _peoples_, _all decay_, _Down into darkness_, _rolled_; _May life that’s fleet be sweet_, _I pray_, _Beside your manor old_. THE FORTUNATE ISLANDS. A DREAM IN JUNE. IN twilight of the longest day I lingered over Lucian, Till ere the dawn a dreamy way My spirit found, untrod of man, Between the green sky and the grey. Amid the soft dusk suddenly More light than air I seemed to sail, Afloat upon the ocean sky, While through the faint blue, clear and pale, I saw the mountain clouds go by: My barque had thought for helm and sail, And one mist wreath for canopy. Like torches on a marble floor Reflected, so the wild stars shone, Within the abysmal hyaline, Till the day widened more and more, And sank to sunset, and was gone, And then, as burning beacons shine On summits of a mountain isle, A light to folk on sea that fare, So the sky’s beacons for a while Burned in these islands of the air. Then from a starry island set Where one swift tide of wind there flows, Came scent of lily and violet, Narcissus, hyacinth, and rose, Laurel, and myrtle buds, and vine, So delicate is the air and fine: And forests of all fragrant trees Sloped seaward from the central hill, And ever clamorous were these With singing of glad birds; and still Such music came as in the woods Most lonely, consecrate to Pan, The Wind makes, in his many moods, Upon the pipes some shepherd Man, Hangs up, in thanks for victory! On these shall mortals play no more, But the Wind doth touch them, over and o’er, And the Wind’s breath in the reeds will sigh. Between the daylight and the dark That island lies in silver air, And suddenly my magic barque Wheeled, and ran in, and grounded there; And by me stood the sentinel Of them who in the island dwell; All smiling did he bind my hands, With rushes green and rosy bands, They have no harsher bonds than these The people of the pleasant lands Within the wash of the airy seas!