Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . eturn from pacings in the field, and ran To greet him with a kiss, the master took Small notice, or austerely, for —his mind Half buried in some weightiet argument, Or fancy, borne perhaps upon the rise And long roll of the Hexameter — he past To turn and ponder those three hundred scrolls Left by the Teacher, whom he held divine. She brookd it not; but wrathful, petulant, Dreaming some rival, sought and found a witch Who brewd the philtre which had power, they said, To lead an errant passion home again. • And this, at times, -she mingled with his drink,
Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . eturn from pacings in the field, and ran To greet him with a kiss, the master took Small notice, or austerely, for —his mind Half buried in some weightiet argument, Or fancy, borne perhaps upon the rise And long roll of the Hexameter — he past To turn and ponder those three hundred scrolls Left by the Teacher, whom he held divine. She brookd it not; but wrathful, petulant, Dreaming some rival, sought and found a witch Who brewd the philtre which had power, they said, To lead an errant passion home again. • And this, at times, -she mingled with his drink, And this destroyd him ; for the wicked broth Confused the cliemic labour of the blood. And tickling the brute brain within the mans Made havock among those tender cells, and checkd His power to shape : he loathed himself; and once After a tempest woke upon a morn That mockd him with returning calm, and cried : Storm in the night ! for thrice I heard the rainRushing ; and once the flash of a thunderbolt — (287) 288 Metliought Inever saw sofierce a fork — Struck out thestreaming nioun-tain-side, andshowd A riotous conflu-ence of water-courses Blanching andbillowing in ahollow of it, Where all butyester - eve wasdusty-dry. Storm, and whatdreams, ye holyGods, whatdreams !For thrice I wak-end after do but recol-lect the dreamsthat comeJust ere the waking: terrible! foritseemdA void was made in nature ; all her bondsCrackd ; and I saw the flaring atom-streams A WITCH WHO BREWD THE PHILTRE. Lucretius. 289 And torrents of her myriad universe, Ruining along the illimitable inane, Fly on to clash together again, and make Another and another frame of things For ever : that was mine, my dream, I knew it — Of and belonging to me, as the dog With inward yelp and restless forefoot plies His function of the woodland : but the next! I thought that all the blood by Sylla shed Came driving rainlike down again on earth, And where it dashd the reddening
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