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Orpheus on Gems

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ORPHEUS ON GEMS.
A sweet delight to the beholder's eye, My heart its aspect fills with speechless joy, My longing gaze its beauty never tires, But yet the prodigy with awe inspires : Though to the legend I true credit give, 530 Scarce do I hope it credence will receive ; But yet to men, I ween, no lying fame Hath sung the terrors of the Gorgon's name. Ko idle tale the feat of Perseus, high On airy wings careering through the sky, Or how the hero slew 'neath Atlas' rocks The dire Medusa tressed with snaky locks, Monster invincible, with eyes of hell, Fatal to all on whom her glances fell, Who under that intolerable eye To marble statue stiffen ere they die. E'en Pallas self, indomitable Maid, Shrunk from the terrors of that look, afraid,
540 And warned her brother of the golden glaive To avert his eyes as he the death-blow gave. Thus by a wile he won the monster's head, And severed from the neck her serpent's dread, And stealing from behind with noiseless wheel, Drew round her throat the curved Cyllemal steel. Though slain the Gorgon, yet her face retains Its ancient terrors and its force remains, And many yet were fated by the sight The realms to enter of eternal night. Dripping with blood the hero seeks the shore, And, whilst he cleanses from his hands the gore,
550 Still warm, still quivering, lays his trophy down On the green sea-plants all about him strewn, Whilst tired by toil and by his weary way His limbs he freshens in the cooling sea. Pressed by the head the weeds around that lie Soaked with the gore, grow drunk with sanguine dye, The rushing breezes, daughters of the flood, Upon their boughs congeal the clotted blood,
500 And so congeal, it seems, a real stone Nor only seems ; to real rock 'tis grown. What though of softness every trace be reft, To the dry plant its pristine shape is left,
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