Thus, laden with their sweetness, Zephyr came
O'er hill and dale, o'er battlement and wall,
Into the sleeping town of Canalise,
Through open lattice and through prison-bars,
To kiss the cheek of sleeping Innocence
And fevered brows of prisoners forlorn,
Who, stirring 'neath sweet Zephyr's soft caress,
Dreamed themselves young, with all their sins unwrought.
So, gentle Zephyr, messenger of dawn,
Fresh as the day-spring, of earth redolent,
Through narrow loophole into dungeon stole,
Where Robin the bold outlaw fettered lay,
Who, sighing, woke to feel her fragrant kiss,
And, breathing in this perfume-laden air,
He seemed to smell those thousand woodland scents
He oft had known, yet, knowing, never heeded:
Of lofty bracken, golden in the sun,
Of dewy violets shy that bloomed dim-seen
Beside some merry-laughing, woodland brook
Which, bubbling, with soft music filled the air;
The fragrant reek of smouldering camp-fire
Aglow beside some dark, sequestered pool
Whose placid waters a dim mirror made
To hold the glister of some lonely star;
He seemed to see again in sunny glade
The silky coats of yellow-dappled deer,
With branching antlers gallantly upborne;
To hear the twang of bow, the whizz of shaft,
And cheery sound of distant-winded horn.
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