Leave thou thy chamber and its spectral glooms;
Rise like the morn upon the mountains; stand,
My Rose of Dawn, among all lesser blooms,
And with white lilies mate each slender hand,
And let the sky grow glorious and blue
To match thine eyes! ... Come, Queen, and my Adored,
Clothed in thy splendour as I saw thee first!
Oh, come, ere I thwart Caesar on my sword,
And with my body pay him what is due!
Quench with thy lips on mine, O Heart, love's thirst.
V
Why dost thou linger, thou the miracle
Among all marvels? Hither call the birds;
The faint, far song of rivers; silver bell
And pause of twilight, when the crooning words
Of mothers bending over babes awake
Echoes of whispers through the reeds and grass:
Let these and other voices vie with thine,
And lo! the god who vanquished Marsyas
Yields thee his harp, and one by one forsake
The nymphs their singing for thy voice divine.