Chapter IV: Section IV

And with the singing, came a fair maid, tripping into the outer air; large, lithe of limb, like the moon riding in mid-heaven, when seen in her full light, paling the stars. Her hair fell, unbound, even to her feet, covering half her shape; and about her waist was knit a robe of sables, which flowed downward, and concealed no excellence above the girdle. Her form was sister to the antelope, and her face, one, which Phidias would have chiseled for a Juno of giant make. Her glowing eyes, blue as the ether above them, rolled liquid as she sang, and bent the knee, and worshiped, extending her arms, which showed like wreaths of snow borne upon the wind, toward the mounting day—not ignorantly, for she was too near to God in time, to have forgotten him. Then rising, she also looked upon the sea, smiling in the sunlight, and loved it; for she was born upon its shores, and, with life, its roar filled her ears. She loved it—coming to her, from whence she knew not, from beyond the reach of space, which to her eye was bounded by the heavens, that bowed down and girdled the waters—and enticed, the robe of sables fell from her, and the glad brine received her, and mounting, laved all her beauty. Thus swimming, thus sporting, thus playing with young ocean, now floating, now dipping beneath his bosom heaving with great joy. The white pigeon left its perch, and sought a new rest, even the fair maid’s fair brow, rising from the wave, and arched its neck, and drooped its wings, and turned round and round, chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-eh uh; oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh; calling to its mate.

The white pigeon nestled in the grot, and knew its mistress, and her caress; and when the maid would have taken it tenderly in her hand, smoothing its ruffled feathers, it flew upward, cleaving the air in circles, and descending, lighted upon her wrist, and pecked at her taper fingers, roseate with health, and arched its neck, and drooped its wings, and turned round and round; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-eh-uh; oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh; calling to its mate.

“Call, call to your mate, happy bird, and she shall call to you again; but, where is he who should call to me, in this my bridal hour? Erix, my love, my life, my soul’s sole hope!”