Tale of Archais

THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 21 The sound stood trembling in the forest dim Lingering a little, yet there taketh him A strong man’s one short moment of despair. He fell, the last of Titans, his loose hair Tangled in roses ; while his heart and mind Broken and yet imperishable, blind, Hateful, desire they know not what, and turn Lastly to pray for death ; his wild eyes burn, And bitter tears divide his doubtful breath. So grew his anguish to accomplish death, Had not the goddess with the rosy shoon Stooped o’er the silver surface of the moon To touch his brow with slumber, like a kiss Whose dreams perfused the name of Archais, Till the sweet odour dulled his brain, and sleep Loosened his limbs, most dreamless and most deep. The mosses serve him for a bed ; the trees Wave in the moonlight, daughters of the breeze ; Hardly the pleasant waters seem to shake, And only nightingales, for slumber’s sake, Lull the soft stars and seas, and matchless music make. And now the sun is risen above the deep,