Thus lone, thus reverenced, the young virgin grew 111 Into the age, when on the heart's calm wave The light winds tremble, and emotions new Steal to the peace departing childhood gave; When for the vague Beyond the captive pines, And the soul misses--what it scarce divines. Lo where she sits--(and blossoms arch the dome) 112 Girt by young handmaids!--Near and nearer swelling The cymbals sound before the steps that come O'er rose and hyacinth to the bridal dwelling; And clear and loud the summer air along From virgin voices floats the choral song. Lo where the sacred talismans diffuse 113 Their fragrant charms against the Evil Powers; Lo where young hands the consecrated dews From cusped vervain sprinkle round the flowers, And o'er the robe, with broider'd palm-leaves sown, That decks the daughter of the peaceful throne! Lo, on those locks of night the myrtle crown, 114 Lo, where the heart beats quick beneath the veil; Lo, where the lids, cast tremulously down, Cloud stars which Eros as his own might hail; Oh, lovelier than Endymion's loveliest dream, Joy to the heart on which those eyes shall beam! The bark comes bounding to the islet shore, 115 The trellised gates fly back: the footsteps fall Through jasmined galleries on the threshold floor; And, in the Heart-Enchainer's golden thrall, There, spell-bound halt;--So, first since youth began Her eyes meet youth in the charm'd eyes of man! And there Art's two opposed Ideals rest; 116 There the twin flowers of the old world bloom forth; The classic symbol of the gentle West, And the bold type of the chivalric North. What trial waits thee, Cymrian, sharper here Than the wolf's death-fang or the Saxon's spear? But would ye learn how he we left afar, 117 Girt by the stormy people of the wild, Came to the confines of the Hesperus Star, And the soft gardens of the Etrurian child; Would ye, yet lingering in the wondrous vale, Learn what time spares if sorrow can assail; What there, forgetful of the vanish'd dove, 118 (Lost at these portals) did the king befall; Pause till the hand has tuned the harp to love, And notes that bring young listeners to the hall; And he, whose sires in Cymri reign'd, shall sing How Tusca's daughter loved the Cymrian King. NOTES TO BOOK III. 1.--Page 243, stanza xlviii. _Pass from the spear-storm to The Golden Hall!_ Walhalla. 2.--Page 243, stanza xlix. _Were cross'd by SKULDA, in the baleful skein._ Skulda, the Norna, or Destiny, of the Future. 3.--Page 243, stanza xlix. _Of him who dares 'The Choosers of the Slain.'_