Page:Flora (Heinemann 1919).djvu/54

 MOURN’ST THOU NOW?

Long ago from radiant palace.

Dream-bemused, in flood of moon.

Stole the princess Seraphita

Into forest gloom.

Wail of hemlock; cold the dew-drops;

Danced the Dryads in the chace;

Heavy hung ambrosial fragrance;

Moonbeams blanched her ravished face.

Frail and clear the notes delusive;

Mocking phantoms in a rout

Thridded the night-cloistered thickets,

Wove their sorceries in and out. ..

Mourn’st thou now? Or do thine eyelids

Frame a vision dark, divine—

O’er this imp of star and wild-flower—

Of a god once thine? 30