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| Will Hicok Low On this side of Jove's clouds (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
Frighted away the Dryads and the Fauns
From rushes green, and brakes, and cowslip'd lawns,
The ever-smitten Hermes empty left
His golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft:
From high Olympus had he stolen light,
On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sight
Of his great summoner, and made retreat
Into a forest on the shores of Crete.
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| Will Hicok Low And so he rested on the lonely ground (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
From vale to vale, from wood to wood, he flew,
Breathing upon the flowers his passion new,
And wound with many river to its head,
To find where this sweet nymph prepar'd her secret bed:
In vain; the sweet nymph might nowhere be found,
And so he rested, on the lonely ground,
Pensive, and full of painful jealousies
Of the Wood-Gods, and even the very trees.
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| Will Hicok Low The words she spake came as through bubbling honey (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,
Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue;
Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard,
Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd;
And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed,
Dissolv'd, or brighter shone, or interwreathed
Their lustres with the gloomier tapestries –
So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries,
She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf,
Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire
Sprinkled with stars, like Ariadne's tiar:
Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!
She had a woman's mouth, with all its pearls complete:
And for her eyes: what could such eyes do there
But weep, and weep, that they were born so fair?
As Proserpine still weeps for her Sicilian air.
Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake
Came, as through bubbling honey, for Love's sake,
And thus; while Hermes on his pinions lay,
Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey.
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| Will Hicok Low I dreamt I saw thee robed in purple flakes (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885- gouache- Art Institute of Chicago |
'Fair Hermes, crown'd with feathers, fluttering light,
I had a splendid dream of thee last night:
I saw thee sitting, on a throne of gold,
Among the Gods, upon Olympus old,
The only sad one; for thou didst not hear
The soft, lute-finger'd Muses chanting clear,
Nor even Apollo when he sang alone,
Deaf to his throbbing throat's long, long melodious moan.
I dreamt I saw thee robed in purple flakes,
Break amorous through the clouds, as morning breaks,
And, swiftly as bright Phœbean dart,
Strike for the Cretan isle; and here thou art!
Too gentle Hermes, hast thou found the maid?'
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| Will Hicok Low The guarded nymph near-smiling on the green (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
'Too frail of heart! for this lost nymph of thine,
Free as the air, invisibly, she strays
About these thornless wilds; her pleasant days
She tastes unseen; unseen her nimble feet
Leave traces in the grass and flowers sweet;
From weary tendrils, and bow'd branches green,
She plucks the fruit unseen, she bathes unseen:
And by my power is her beauty veil'd
To keep it unaffronted, unassail'd
By the love-glances of unlovely eyes,
Of Satyrs, Fauns, and blear'd Silenus' sighs.
Pale grew her immortality, for woe
Of all these lovers, and she grieved so
I took compassion on her, bade her steep
Her hair in weїrd syrops, that would keep
Her loveliness invisible, yet free
To wander as she loves, in liberty.
Thou shalt behold her, Hermes, thou alone,
If thou wilt, as thou swearest, grant my boon!'
Then, once again, the charmed God began
An oath, and through the serpent's ears it ran
Warm, tremulous, devout, psalterian.
Ravish'd, she lifted her Circean head,
Blush'd a live damask, and swift-lisping said,
'I was a woman, let me have once more
A woman's shape, and charming as before.
I love a youth of Corinth – O the bliss!
Give me my woman's form, and place me where he is.
Stoop, Hermes, let me breathe upon thy brow,
And thou shalt see thy sweet nymph even now.'
The God on half-shut feathers sank serene,
She breath'd upon his eyes, and swift was seen
Of both the guarded nymph near-smiling on the green.
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| Will Hicok Low Into the green recessed woods they flew (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
It was no dream; or say a dream it was,
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass
Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
One warm, flush'd moment, hovering, it might seem
Dash'd by the wood-nymph's beauty, so he burn'd;
Then, lighting on the printless verdure, turn'd
To the swoon'd serpent, and with languid arm,
Delicate, put to proof the lythe Caducean charm.
So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent
Full of adoring tears and blandishment,
And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane,
Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain
Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
That faints into itself at evening hour:
But the God fostering her chilled hand,
She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd bland,
And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,
Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.
Into the green-recessed woods they flew;
Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.
[Now follows the serpent-woman's doomed reunion with Lycius, her lost lover] –
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| Will Hicok Low Foremost in the envious race (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
And once, while among mortals dreaming thus,
she saw the young Corinthian Lycius
Charioting foremost in the envious race,
Like a young Jove with calm uneager face,
And fell into a swooning love of him.
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| Will Hicok Low The wide-spreaded night above her towers (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
As men talk in a dream, so Corinth all,
Throughout her palaces imperial,
And all her populous streets and temples lewd,
Mutter'd, like tempest in the distance brew'd,
To the wide-spreaded night above her towers.
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| Will Hicok Low They had arrived before a pillared porch (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
While yet he spake they had arrived before
A pillar'd porch, with lofty portal door,
Where hung a silver lamp, whose phosphor glow
Reflected in the slabbed steps below,
Mild as a star in water; for so new
And so unsullied was the marble hue,
So through the crystal polish, liquid fine,
Ran the dark veins, that none but feet divine
Could e'er have touch'd there.
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| Will Hicok Low They were enthroned in the eventide upon a couch (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
For all this came a ruin: side by side
They were enthroned, in the even tide,
Upon a couch, near to a curtaining
Whose airy texture, from a golden string,
Floated into the room, and let appear
Unveil'd the summer heaven, blue and clear,
Betwixt two marble shafts: – there they reposed,
Where use had made it sweet, with eyelids closed,
Saving a tythe which love still open kept,
That they might see each other while they almost slept . . .
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| Will Hicok Low Deafening the swallow's twitter came a thrill of trumpets (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
When from the slope side of a suburb hill,
Deafening the swallow's twitter, came a thrill
Of trumpets – Lycius started – the sounds fled,
But left a thought, a buzzing in his head.
For the first time, since first he harbour'd in
That purple-lined palace of sweet sin,
His spirit pass'd beyond its golden bourn
Into the noisy world almost forsworn.
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| Will Hicok Low The sophist's eye like a sharp spear went through her utterly (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
'Fool!' said the sophist, in an under-tone
Gruff with contempt; which a death-nighing moan
From Lycius answer'd, as heart-struck and lost,
He sank supine beside the aching ghost.
'Fool! Fool!' repeated he, while his eyes still
Relented not, nor mov'd; 'from every ill
Of life have I preserv'd thee to this day ,
And shall I see thee made a serpent's prey?'
Then Lamia breath'd death breath; the sophist's eye,
Like a sharp spear, went through her utterly,
Keen cruel, perceant, stinging: she, as well
As her weak hand could any meaning tell,
Motion'd him to be silent; vainly so,
He look'd and look'd again a level – No!
'A Serpent!' echoed he; no sooner said,
Than with a frightful scream she vanished . . .
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| Will Hicok Low And in its marriage robe the heavy body wound (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
And Lycius' arms were empty of delight,
As were his limbs of life, from that same night.
On the high couch he lay! – his friends came round –
Supported him – no pulse, or breath they found,
And, in its marriage robe, the heavy body wound.
– John Keats, extracts from Lamia (1820)
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| Will Hicok Low Lamia (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Will Hicok Low Artist's dedication to his friend Robert Louis Stevenson (illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia) 1885 gouache Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Will Hicok Low Self-portrait at Montigny 1876 oil on canvas Smithsonian American Art Museum |