To the sea unaccepted, and little ones drown For need of her mercy,--even he whose twin-brother Will miss him forever; and the sorrowful mother Imploreth in vain for his body to kiss And cling to, all dripping and cold as it is, Because that soft pity is lost in hard pain We loved,--how we loved!--for I thought not again Of the woes that were whisper'd like fears in that place If I gave me to beauty. Her face was the face, Far away, and her eyes were the eyes that were drown'd For my absence,--her arms were the arms that sought round And claspt me to nought; for I gazed and became Only true to my falsehood, and had but one name For two loves, and call'd ever on AEgle, sweet maid Of the sky-loving waters,--and was not afraid Of the sight of her skin;--for it never could be; Her beauty and love were misfortunes to me! Thus our bliss had endured for a time-shorten'd space, Like a day made of three, and the smile of her face Had been with me for joy,--when she told me indeed Her love was self-task'd with a work that would need Some short hours, for in truth 'twas the veriest pity Our love should not last, and then sang me a ditty, Of one with warm lips that should love her, and love her When suns were burnt dim and long ages past over. So she fled with her voice, and I patiently nested My limbs in the reeds, in still quiet, and rested Till my thoughts grew extinct, and I sank in a sleep Of dreams,--but their meaning was hidden too deep To be read what their woe was;--but still it was woe That was writ on all faces that swam to and fro In that river of night;--and the gaze of their eyes Was sad,--and the bend of their brows,--and their cries Were seen, but I heard not. The warm touch of tears Travell'd down my cold cheeks, and I shook till my fears Awaked me, and lo! I was couch'd in a bower, The growth of long summers rear'd up in an hour! Then I said, in the fear of my dream, I will fly From this magic, but could not, because that my eye Grew love-idle among the rich blooms; and the earth Held me down with its coolness of touch, and the mirth Of some bird was above me,--who, even in fear, Would startle the thrush? and methought there drew near A form as of AEgle,--but it was not the face Hope made, and I knew the witch-Queen of that place, Even Circe the Cruel, that came like a Death, Which I fear'd, and yet fled not, for want of my breath. There was thought in her face, and her eyes were not raised From the grass at her foot, but I saw, as I gazed, Her spite--and her countenance changed with her mind As she plann'd how to thrall me with beauty, and bind My soul to her charms,--and her long tresses play'd From shade into shine and from shine into shade, Like a day in mid-autumn,--first fair, O how fair! With long snaky locks of the adder-black hair That clung round her neck,--those dark locks that I prize, For the sake of a maid that once loved me with eyes Of that fathomless hue,--but they changed as they roll'd,