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MAE MADDEN
With an introductory poem, by Joaquin Miller.
The wheel of fortune guide you, The boy with the bow beside you Run aye in the way, till the dawn of day And a luckier lot betide you.
Ben Jonson.
A DREAM OF ITALY.
AN ALLEGORY INTRODUCING "MAE MADDEN."
We two had been parted, God pity us, when The stars were unnamed and when heaven was dim; We two had been parted far back on the rim And the outermost border of heaven's red bars: We two had been parted ere the meeting of men Or God had set compass on spaces as yet. We two had been parted ere God had set His finger to spinning the spaces with stars,-- And now, at the last in the gold and set Of the sun of Venice, we two had met.
I saw her one moment, then fell back abashed And filled full to the throat. . . . Then I turned me once more So glad to the sea, while the level sun flashed On the far, snowy Alps. . . . Her breast! Why, her breast Was white as twin pillows that allure you to rest; Her sloping limbs moved like to melodies, told As she rose from the sea, and she threw back the gold Of her glory of hair, and set face to the shore. . . . I knew her! I knew her, though we had not met Since the far stars sang to the sun's first set.
How long I had sought her! I had hungered, nor ate Of any sweet fruits. I had tasted not one Of all the fair glories grown under the sun. I had sought only her. Yea, I knew that she Had come upon earth and stood waiting for me Somewhere by my way. But the path ways of fate They had led otherwhere. The round world round, The far North seas and the near profound Had failed me for aye. Now I stood by that sea While a ship drove by, and all dreamily.
I had turned from the lion a time, and when I looked tow'rd the tide and out on the lea Of the town where the warm sea tumbled and teemed With beauty, I saw her. I knew her then, The tallest, the fairest fair daughter of men. O, Venice stood full in her glory. She gleamed In the splendor of sunset and sensuous sea; Yet I saw but my bride, my affinity, While the doves hurried home to the dome of Saint Mark And the brass horses plunged their high manes in the dark,
Was it well with my love? Was she true? Was she brave With virtue's own valor? Was she waiting for me? O, how fared my love! Had she home? Had she bread? Had she known but the touch of the warm-tempered wave? Was she born upon earth with a crown on her head; Or born like myself, but a dreamer, instead? So long it had been! So long! Why the sea, That wrinkled and surly old time-tempered slave, Had been born, had his revels, grown wrinkled and hoar Since I last saw my love on that uttermost shore.
O, how fared my love? Once I lifted my face And I shook back my hair and looked out on the sea; I pressed my hot palms as I stood in my place And cried, "O, I come like a king to your side Though all hell intervene." . . . "Hist! she may be a bride! A mother at peace, with sweet babes on her knee! A babe at her breast and a spouse at her side! . . . Have I wandered too long, and has destiny Set mortal between us?" I buried my face In my hands, and I moaned as I stood in my place.
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