And up the height and higher,

Where roses rarer grew,
We sought, with sad desire,

For something strange and new;
Then hand in hand we went
A-down the dark descent,

Thro' rugged rocks and rent,
And bramble-brakes and briar ;
And footsore, sad, and spent,
The boughs we backward bent,
And on and on our ways we went
Thro' sombre wilds of yew;

'Mid tangle thick and thorn,

The flowers grew faint and few,

The blue pines rose up sheer and shorn,
And oozed out bitter drops of dew;

The great spare trunks from bourne to bourne, Mazed out beyond the view.

And lo! of a sudden, in lines
All deep and straight and high,
Stretch'd flat to the thinning pines

A great blue sweep of sky;

We rush'd with a shout where sheer

The rock scragg'd down and clear Let the wild world appear

Thro' straggling balaustines; Our eyes in thrill and tear

Were dazzled and fill'd with fear,

We groped our hands out there and here,
Our heads swoon'd round with a cry,
And when we found our sight,

Oh! vision of seas snd sky,

And air and rose-clouds fann'd into flight, And the soft wind winding along thereby, And mountain-tips all snow-bedight,

And the white sun wheeling high.

For myriad miles or more,

Below us loom'd the plain,

And rolling along to the shore,
A river clove it in twain ;

A-far the sweeps of sea

Shone green as blue can be,

And, farther than sight can see,

Went shimmering, shimmering o'er;

The soft rose-mist ran free,

From river and shore and sea,

And lay in the light or lounged from the lee

And shimmer'd in showers of rain;

And rosy from out the showers,

The dwindling mountain-chain

In easy slopes and tips and towers,

Went tapering farther than sight could strain, Down rose-hung rocks and ledges of flowers,

We gambol'd along to the plain.

And life and light were new,

And all the world was young ; The mountain-marshes through

We leap'd and laugh'd and sung;

And look'd up at the light
That burn'd so dazzling bright,

And shriek'd when quick our sight

The white light leap'd into.

The blush rock-roses white

We pluck'd to wreathe and bite —

And, lo! on our lips from the black thorn blight

The red blood-drops out-sprung.

Yet on we danced in the noon

In bands so wildly strung;

And wept aweary when oversoon

We fell the foot-bruised flowers among ;

And one sweet dancer lay in a swoon,
His giddy head so swung.

Yet 'mid the swoon 'twas sweet

To lie there in the sun,

Till lo! the great noon heat

'Gan scorch us everyone;

We cried in cruel pain,

And wander'd forth again

From out the white-bloom plain,

With weary faltering feet. Along the left was lain

The white sand, grain by grain,

A sea-bud, and pink conches twain

Gay tinted by the sun; Beyond, on the level sea,

The wave-lines, one by one,

Came green as far as sight could see, With blue the sky all interspun,

And up the sand melodiously

Their shimmering rims did run.

We went, and lo! we sank;
It lapp'd us to the thigh;
We bent our heads and drank

The fresh foams frothing by;
And every throat grew sore
And parched to the core,

Tho' ever round did pour

Those bitternesses rank.

And thirsting more and more,

We cried "Oh! cruel shore

That burns as never yet before

The sun burn'd in the sky."

And then we wander'd out;

Nor whither knew nor why,

But only long'd to ease the drought
That made our thirsting souls to sigh,
All hand in hand and twined about
Each friend to friend so kindlily.

And after many a way,

With mushroom strewn and squill,

We reach'd a red-cliff'd bay

Where fresh a stream did trill;

The branches met o'erhead,

With ripe pomegranates red
And large leaves light-bespread

A-locking out the day.

Athwart the river's bed

Lay many a lotus-head,

And the green stream bubbied up and sped

And tost them at its will;

Right quickly in we hied,

And gladly drank our fill;

While scarlet birds and stately cried

Around in scrannel shrieks and shrill,