Heathen mythology Part 22

Be then, fair nymph, by these examples led, Nor shun for fancied fears, the nuptial bed."

OVID.

In this disguise, Vertumnus recommended himself and his virtues to Pomona.

"On my a.s.surance well you may repose, Vertumnus scarce Vertumnus better knows, True to his choice all looser flames he flies, Nor for new faces fas.h.i.+onably dies.

The charms of youth, and every smiling grace, Bloom in his features, and the G.o.d confess."

OVID.

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The pertinacious wooing of the metamorphosed deity, had, at last its effect, in preparing Pomona for Vertumnus, when he should a.s.sume his natural shape.

"The story oft Vertumnus urged in vain, But then a.s.sumed his heavenly form again; Such looks and l.u.s.tre the bright youth adorn, As when with rays glad Phoebus paints the morn.

The sight so warms the fair admiring maid, Like snow she melts, so soon can youth persuade; Consent on eager wings succeeds desire, And both the lovers glow with mutual fire."

OVID.

Pomona had a temple at Rome, and a regular priest, who offered sacrifices to her divinity for the preservation of fruit: she is generally represented sitting on a basket, full of flowers and fruit, holding a bough in one hand, and apples in the other.

Vertumnus is represented under the figure of a young man, crowned with various plants, bearing in his left hand fruits, and in his right a horn of abundance.

The G.o.ddess Pomona is often confounded with Autumn, Ceres with Summer, and Flora with Spring.

The four seasons have also been described with great distinctness, by poets, both ancient and modern, all of whom were delighted to pour forth tributes of praise in their honour; Spring is usually drawn as a nymph, with her head crowned by a wreath of flowers; and many are the strains attributed to her.

"I come, I come! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song!

Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy gra.s.s, By the green leaves opening as I pa.s.s.

I have breathed in the south, and the chesnut flowers, By thousands have burst from the forest bowers, And the ancient graves, and the fallen fanes, Are veiled with wreaths on Italian plains: But it is not for me in my hour of bloom, To speak of the ruin or the tomb.

I have looked o'er the hills of the stormy north, And the larch has hung all his ta.s.sels forth, The fisher is out in the stormy sea, And the rein-deer bounds o'er the pastures free, And the fence has a fringe of softer green, And the moss looks bright where my foot hath been.

I have sent thro' the wood-paths a glowing sigh, And called out each voice of the deep blue sky; From the night bird's lay thro' the starry time, {134} In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks.

From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain, They are sweeping on to the silvery main, They are flas.h.i.+ng down from the mountain brows, They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, And the earth resounds with the joy of waves!

Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come!

Where the violets lie may be now your home.

Ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep to meet me fly!

With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the suns.h.i.+ne, I may not stay.

Away from the dwellings of care-worn men, The waters are sparkling in grove and glen!

Away from the chamber and sullen hearth, The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth!

Their light stems thrill to the wild wood strains.

And youth is abroad in my green domains.

But ye! ye are changed since ye met me last!

There is something bright from your features past!

There is something come over brow and eye, Which speaks of a world where the flowers must die!

Ye smile!--but your smile hath a dimness yet-- Oh! what have ye looked on since last we met?

Ye are changed, ye are changed! and I see not here All whom I saw in the vanished year!

There were graceful heads with their ringlets bright, Which tossed in the breeze with a play of light, There were eyes, in whose glistening laughter lay No faint remembrance of dull decay!

There were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's head, As if for a banquet all earth were spread; There were voices that rung thro' the sapphire sky, And had not a sound of mortality!

Are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains pa.s.sed?

Ye have looked on death since ye met me last!

I know whence the shadow comes o'er you now, Ye have strewn the dust on the sunny brow!

Ye have given the lovely to earth's embrace, She hath taken the fairest of beauty's race, With their laughing eyes and their festal crown, They are gone from amongst you in silence down!

The Summer is coming, on soft winds borne, Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn!

For me I depart to a brighter sh.o.r.e, Ye are marked by care, ye are mine no more, I go where the loved, who have left you, dwell, And the flowers are not death's--farewell, farewell!"

HEMANS.

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Summer is drawn naked, bearing an ear of corn, just arriving at its fulness, to denote the harvest yielded by its light and heat; with a scythe in her hand, to intimate that it is the season of harvest.

A welcome to the summer's pleasant song, A welcome to the summer's golden hour, A welcome to the myriad joys that throng, With a deep loveliness, o'er tree and flower, The earth is glad with beauty, the sky Smiles in calm grandeur over vale and hill, And the breeze murmurs forth a gentle sigh, And the fish leap from out the smiling rill.

The town's pale denizens come forth to breathe.

The free, fresh air, and lave their fevered brows; And beauty loves young fairy flowers to wreathe Beneath some stately forest's antique boughs.

Oh! art hath nought like this, the very air Breatheth of beauty, banis.h.i.+ng despair."

FRANCIS.

At other times, she is represented surrounded by the flowers which blossom latest, mingled with the delicious fruits which are the offspring of the summer season.

"Come away! the sunny hours Woo thee far to founts and bowers!

O'er the very waters now, In their play, Flowers are shedding beauty's glow-- Come away!

Where the lily's tender gleam Quivers on the glancing stream-- Come away!

All the air is filled with sound, Soft, and sultry, and profound; Murmurs through the shadowy gra.s.s Lightly stray; Faint winds whisper as they pa.s.s-- Come away; Where the bee's deep music swells From the trembling fox-glove bells-- Come away!

In the skies the sapphire blue Now hath won its richest hue; In the woods the breath of song Night and day Floats with leafy scents along-- Where the boughs with dewy gloom Come away!

Darken each thick bed of bloom Come away!

In the deep heart of the rose Now the crimson love-hue glows; Now the glow-worm's lamp by night Sheds a ray,

{136} Dreamy, starry, freely bright-- Come away!

Where the fairy cup-moss lies, With the wild-wood strawberries, Come away!

Now each tree by summer crowned, Sheds its own night twilight round; Glancing there from sun to shade, Bright wings play; Here the deer its couch hath made-- Come away!

Where the smooth leaves of the lime Glisten in the honey time, Come away--away!

HEMANS.