'Art thou a flower? Art thou a nymph? I see thee now a flower; The golden nymph replied, 'Pluck thou my flower, Oothoon the mild, Then Oothoon plucked the flower, saying,—'I pluck thee from thy bed, Over the waves she went, in wing'd exulting swift delight. |
But she is taken in the 'thunders,' or toils of Bromion, who appears the evil spirit of the soil. Theotormon, in jealous fury, chains them—'terror and meekness'—together, back to back, in Bromion's cave, and seats himself sorrowfully by. The lamentations of Oothoon, and her appeals to the incensed divinity, with his replies, form the burthen of the poem. The Daughters of Albion, who are alluded to in the opening lines as enslaved, weeping, and sighing towards America, 'hear her woes and echo back her cries;' a recurring line or refrain, which includes all they have to do.
We subjoin another extract or two:—
Oothoon weeps not: she cannot weap! her tears are locked up! 'I call with holy voice! kings of the sounding air! The eagles at her call descend and rend their bleeding prey. The Daughters of Albion hear her woes and echo back her sighs. |