Page:Rosalind and Helen (Shelley, Forman).djvu/17

Rh Pursuing still the path that wound The vast and knotted trees around Thro' which slow shades were wandering, To a deep lawny dell they came, To a stone seat beside a spring, O'er which the columned wood did frame A roofless temple, like the fane Where, ere new creeds could faith obtain, Man's early race once knelt beneath The overhanging deity. O'er this fair fountain hung the sky, Now spangled with rare stars. The snake, The pale snake, that with eager breath Creeps here his noontide thirst to slake, Is beaming with many a mingled hue, Shed from yon dome's eternal blue, When he floats on that dark and lucid flood In the light of his own loveliness; And the birds that in the fountain dip Their plumes, with fearless fellowship Above and round him wheel and hover. The fitful wind is heard to stir One solitary leaf on high; The chirping of the grasshopper Fills every pause. There is emotion In all that dwells at noontide here: Then, thro' the intricate wild wood, A maze of life and light and motion Is woven. But there is stillness now: Gloom, and the trance of Nature now: The snake is in his cave asleep; The birds are on the branches dreaming: Only the shadows creep: Only the glow-worm is gleaming: Only the owls and the nightingales