"Come, Tahathyam, come,Thou know'st me well! I saw thee once to love;
And bring a guest to view thy sparkling dome
Who comes full fraught with tidings from above."
Those gentle tones, angelically clear,
Past from his lips, in mazy depths retreating,
(As if that bower had been the cavern's ear,)
Full many a stadia far; and kept repeating,
As through the perforated rock they pass,
Echo to echo guiding them; their tone
(As just from the sweet spirit's lip) at last
Tahathyam heard: where, on a glittering throne he solitary sat.
Sending through the rock an answering strain, to give the spirits welcome, the gnome prepares to meet them at his palace-door:
He sat upon a car, (and the large pearl,
Once cradled in it, glimmered now without,)
Bound midway on two serpents' backs, that curl
In silent swiftness as he glides about.
A shell, 'twas first in liquid amber wet,
Then ere the fragrant cement hardened round,
All o'er with large and precious stones 'twas set
By skillful Tsavaven, or made or found.
The reins seemed pliant crystal (but their strength
Had matched his earthly mother's silken band)
And, flecked with rubies, flowed in ample length,
Like sparkles o'er Tahathyam's beauteous hand.
The reptiles, in their fearful beauty, drew,
As if from love, like steeds of Araby;
Like blood of lady's lip their scarlet hue;
Their scales so bright and sleek, 'twas pleasure but to see,
With open mouths, as proud to show the bit,
They raise their heads, and arch their necks – (with eye
As bright as if with meteor fire 'twere lit;)
And dart their barbed tongues, 'twixt fangs of ivory.
These, when the quick advancing sprites they saw
Furl their swift wings, and tread with angel grace
The smooth, fair pavement, checked their speed in awe,
And glided far aside as if to give them space.
The errand of the angels is made known to the sovereign of this interior and resplendent world, and upon conditions the precious elixir is promised; but first Zophiël and Phraërion are ushered through sparry portals to a banquet.
High towered the palace and its massive pile,
Made dubious if of nature or of art,
So wild and so uncouth; yet, all the while,
Shaped to strange grace in every varying part.
And groves adorned it, green in hue, and bright,
As icicles about a laurel-tree;
And danced about their twigs a wonderous light;
Whence came that light so far beneath the sea?
Zophiël looked up to know, and to his view
The vault scarce seemed less vast than that of day;
No rocky roof was seen; a tender blue
Appeared, as of the sky, and clouds about it play:
And, in the midst, an orb looked as 'twere meant
To shame the sun, it mimicked him so well.
But ah! no quickening, grateful warmth it sent;
Cold as the rock beneath, the paly radiance fell.
Within, from thousand lamps the lustre strays.
Reflected back from gems about the wall;
And from twelve dolphin shapes a fountain plays,
Just in the centre of a spacious hall;
But whether in the sunbeam formed to sport,
These shapes once lived in supleness and pride,
And then, to decorate this wonderous court,
Were stolen from the waves and petrified;
Or, moulded by some imitative gnome,
And scaled all o'er with gems, they were but stone,
Casting their showers and rainbows 'neath the dome.
To man or angel's eye might not be known.
No snowy fleece in these sad realms was found,
Nor silken ball by maiden loved so well;
But ranged in lightest garniture around,
In seemly folds, a shining tapestry fell.
And fibres of asbestos, bleached in fire,
And all with pearls and sparkling gems o'erflecked,
Of that strange court composed the rich attire,
And such the cold, fair form of sad Tahathyam decked.
Gifted with every pleasing endowment, in possession of an elixir of which a drop perpetuates life and youth, surrounded by friends of his own choice, who are all anxious to please and amuse him, the gnome feels himself inferior in happiness to the lowest of mortals. His sphere is confined, his high powers useless, for he is without the "last, best gift of God to man," and there is no object on which he can exercise his benevolence. The feast is described with the terse beauty which marks all the canto, and at its close —
The banquet-cups, of many a hue and shape,
Bossed o'er with gems, were beautiful to view;
But, for the madness of the vaunted grape,
Their only draught was a pure limpid dew,
The spirits while they sat in social guise,
Pledging each goblet with an answering kiss,
Marked many a gnome conceal his bursting sighs;
And thought death happier than a life like this.
But they had music; at one ample side
Of the vast arena of that sparkling hall,
Fringed round with gems, that all the rest outvied.
In form of canopy, was seen to fall
The stony tapestry, over what, at first,
An altar to some deity appeared;
But it had cost full many a year to adjust
The limpid crystal tubes that 'neath upreared
Their different lucid lengths; and so complete
Their wondrous 'rangement, that a tuneful gnome
Drew from them sounds more varied, clear, and sweet,
Than ever yet had rung in any earthly dome.
Loud, shrilly, liquid, soft; at that quick touch
Such modulation wooed his angel ears
That Zophiël wondered, started from his couch
And thought upon the music of the spheres.
But Zophiël lingers with ill-dissembled impatience and Tahathyam leads the way to where the elixir of life is to be surrendered.
Soon through the rock they wind; the draught divine
Was hidden by a veil the king alone might lift.
Cephroniel's
