"Thou hast our secret! Thou must share our fates: 103 The Alps and Orcus guard ourselves--and thee! To what new Mars shall Janus ope the gates? Thou speak'st of war, and then demand'st the key!" Scornful he turn'd--but thrill'd with wrath to feel His sacred arm lock'd in a grasp of steel. "Trifle not, host,--Fate calls me to depart; 104 On my shamed soul a prophet's voice hath cried! Nor Alps nor Orcus like a loyal heart Ensures the secret trustful lips confide." The Augur sneer'd--"A loyal heart, forsooth! And what says AEgle of the stranger's truth?" "Let AEgle answer," cried the noble lover; 105 "Let AEgle judge the trust I hold from Heaven. I faithless!--I--a King?--my labours over, From mine own soil the surge of carnage driven, And I will come, as kings should come, to claim A mate for empire, and a meed for fame!"-- Long mused the Augur, and at length replied, 106 His guile scarce mask'd in his malignant gaze, "Take, as thou say'st, an answer from thy bride-- Then, if still wearied of untroubled days-- No more from Mantu[18] Pales shall control; And one free gate shall open on thy soul!" He said, and drew his large robe round his form, 107 And wrathful swept along, as o'er the sky A cloud sweeps dark, secret with hoarded storm; Behind him went the guest as silently; Afar the gazing wonderers whisper'd, while They cross'd the girdling wave and reach'd the isle. With violet buds, bright AEgle, in her bower, 108 Knits the dark riches of her lustrous hair; Her heart springs eager to the magic hour When to loved eyes 'tis glorious to be fair: Gleams of a neck, proud as the swan's, escape The light-spun tunic rounded to the shape. The airy veil, its silver cloud dividing, 109 Falls, and floats fragrant, from the violet crown. What happy thought is in that breast presiding Like some serenest bird that settles down (Its wanderings over) on calm summer eves Into its nest, amid the secret leaves? What happy thought in those large tranquil eyes 110 Speaks of a bliss remote from human fear? Speaks of a soul which like a star supplies Its own circumfluent lustrous atmosphere; Weaves beam on beam around its peace, and glows Soft through the splendour which itself bestows? Who ever gazed on perfect happiness, 111 Nor felt it as the shadow cast from God? It seems so still in its sublime excess, So brings all heaven around its hush'd abode, That in its very beauty awe has birth, Dismay'd by too much glory for the earth.