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문서의 선택한 두 판 사이의 차이를 보여줍니다.

--- 문학:영문학:영국:셸리 [2020/10/08 19:03]
clayeryan@gmail.com
+++ 문학:영문학:영국:셸리 [2020/10/08 19:22]
clayeryan@gmail.com [작품목록]
@@ 줄 5162: / 줄 5162: @@
 ++++
 ++++52	The Fitful Alternations Of The Rain|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>The fitful alternations of the rain,
+When the chill wind, languid as with pain
+Of its own heavy moisture, here and there
+Drives through the gray and beamless atmosphere</poem>
 ++++
 ++++53	To|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>Music, when soft voices die,
+Vibrates in the memory -
+Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
+Live within the sense they quicken.
+Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
+Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
+And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
+Love itself shall slumber on.</poem>
 ++++
 ++++54	Hymn Of Pan|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>FROM the forests and highlands
+We come, we come;
+From the river-girt islands,
+Where loud waves are dumb
+Listening to my sweet pipings.
+The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
+The bees on the bells of thyme,
+The birds on the myrtle-bushes,
+The cicale above in the lime,
+And the lizards below in the grass,
+Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was,
+Listening to my sweet pipings.
+Liquid Peneus was flowing,
+And all dark Temple lay
+In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
+The light of the dying day,
+Speeded by my sweet pipings.
+The Sileni and Sylvans and fauns,
+And the Nymphs of the woods and wave
+To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
+And the brink of the dewy caves,
+And all that did then attend and follow,
+Were silent with love,--as you now, Apollo,
+With envy of my sweet pipings.
+I sang of the dancing stars,
+I sang of the dedal earth,
+And of heaven, and the Giant wars,
+And love, and death, and birth.
+And then I changed my pipings,--
+Singing how down the vale of Maenalus
+I pursued a maiden, and clasped a reed:
+Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;
+It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.
+All wept--as I think both ye now would,
+If envy or age had not frozen your blood--
+At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.</poem>
 ++++
 ++++55	Remorse|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>AWAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
+Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
+Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
+And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
+Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries, 'Away!'
+Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:
+Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:
+Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
+Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
+Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
+Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
+And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
+The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head,
+The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:
+But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,
+Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace, may
+meet.
+The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
+For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep;
+Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
+Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep.
+Thou in the grave shalt rest:--yet, till the phantoms flee,
+Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile,
+Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free
+From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile.</poem>
 ++++
 ++++56	Hellas|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>THE world's great age begins anew,
+The golden years return,
+The earth doth like a snake renew
+Her winter weeds outworn;
+Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam
+Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
+A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
+From waves serener far;
+A new Peneus rolls his fountains
+Against the morning star;
+Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep
+Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.
+A loftier Argo cleaves the main,
+Fraught with a later prize;
+Another Orpheus sings again,
+And loves, and weeps, and dies;
+A new Ulysses leaves once more
+Calypso for his native shore.
+O write no more the tale of Troy,
+If earth Death's scroll must be--
+Nor mix with Laian rage the joy
+Which dawns upon the free,
+Although a subtler Sphinx renew
+Riddles of death Thebes never knew.
+Another Athens shall arise,
+And to remoter time
+Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,
+The splendour of its prime;
+And leave, if naught so bright may live,
+All earth can take or Heaven can give.
+Saturn and Love their long repose
+Shall burst, more bright and good
+Than all who fell, than One who rose,
+Than many unsubdued:
+Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,
+But votive tears and symbol flowers.
+O cease! must hate and death return?
+Cease! must men kill and die?
+Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn
+Of bitter prophecy!
+The world is weary of the past--
+O might it die or rest at last!
+</poem>
 ++++
 ++++57	Mont Blanc: Lines Writen in the Vale of Chamouni|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>I
+The everlasting universe of things
+Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
+Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
+Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
+The source of human thought its tribute brings
+Of waters--with a sound but half its own,
+Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,
+In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
+Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
+Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
+Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.
+II
+Thus thou, Ravine of Arve--dark, deep Ravine--
+Thou many-colour'd, many-voiced vale,
+Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail
+Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene,
+Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down
+From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne,
+Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame
+Of lightning through the tempest;--thou dost lie,
+Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging,
+Children of elder time, in whose devotion
+The chainless winds still come and ever came
+To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging
+To hear--an old and solemn harmony;
+Thine earthly rainbows stretch'd across the sweep
+Of the aethereal waterfall, whose veil
+Robes some unsculptur'd image; the strange sleep
+Which when the voices of the desert fail
+Wraps all in its own deep eternity;
+Thy caverns echoing to the Arve's commotion,
+A loud, lone sound no other sound can tame;
+Thou art pervaded with that ceaseless motion,
+Thou art the path of that unresting sound--
+Dizzy Ravine! and when I gaze on thee
+I seem as in a trance sublime and strange
+To muse on my own separate fantasy,
+My own, my human mind, which passively
+Now renders and receives fast influencings,
+Holding an unremitting interchange
+With the clear universe of things around;
+One legion of wild thoughts, whose wandering wings
+Now float above thy darkness, and now rest
+Where that or thou art no unbidden guest,
+In the still cave of the witch Poesy,
+Seeking among the shadows that pass by
+Ghosts of all things that are, some shade of thee,
+Some phantom, some faint image; till the breast
+From which they fled recalls them, thou art there!
+III
+Some say that gleams of a remoter world
+Visit the soul in sleep, that death is slumber,
+And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber
+Of those who wake and live.--I look on high;
+Has some unknown omnipotence unfurl'd
+The veil of life and death? or do I lie
+In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep
+Spread far around and inaccessibly
+Its circles? For the very spirit fails,
+Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep
+That vanishes among the viewless gales!
+Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky,
+Mont Blanc appears--still, snowy, and serene;
+Its subject mountains their unearthly forms
+Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between
+Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps,
+Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread
+And wind among the accumulated steeps;
+A desert peopled by the storms alone,
+Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone,
+And the wolf tracks her there--how hideously
+Its shapes are heap'd around! rude, bare, and high,
+Ghastly, and scarr'd, and riven.--Is this the scene
+Where the old Earthquake-daemon taught her young
+Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea
+Of fire envelop once this silent snow?
+None can reply--all seems eternal now.
+The wilderness has a mysterious tongue
+Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild,
+So solemn, so serene, that man may be,
+But for such faith, with Nature reconcil'd;
+Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal
+Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood
+By all, but which the wise, and great, and good
+Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.
+IV
+The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams,
+Ocean, and all the living things that dwell
+Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain,
+Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane,
+The torpor of the year when feeble dreams
+Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep
+Holds every future leaf and flower; the bound
+With which from that detested trance they leap;
+The works and ways of man, their death and birth,
+And that of him and all that his may be;
+All things that move and breathe with toil and sound
+Are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell.
+Power dwells apart in its tranquillity,
+Remote, serene, and inaccessible:
+And this, the naked countenance of earth,
+On which I gaze, even these primeval mountains
+Teach the adverting mind. The glaciers creep
+Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains,
+Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice
+Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power
+Have pil'd: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle,
+A city of death, distinct with many a tower
+And wall impregnable of beaming ice.
+Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin
+Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky
+Rolls its perpetual stream; vast pines are strewing
+Its destin'd path, or in the mangled soil
+Branchless and shatter'd stand; the rocks, drawn down
+From yon remotest waste, have overthrown
+The limits of the dead and living world,
+Never to be reclaim'd. The dwelling-place
+Of insects, beasts, and birds, becomes its spoil;
+Their food and their retreat for ever gone,
+So much of life and joy is lost. The race
+Of man flies far in dread; his work and dwelling
+Vanish, like smoke before the tempest's stream,
+And their place is not known. Below, vast caves
+Shine in the rushing torrents' restless gleam,
+Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling
+Meet in the vale, and one majestic River,
+The breath and blood of distant lands, for ever
+Rolls its loud waters to the ocean-waves,
+Breathes its swift vapours to the circling air.
+V
+Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:--the power is there,
+The still and solemn power of many sights,
+And many sounds, and much of life and death.
+In the calm darkness of the moonless nights,
+In the lone glare of day, the snows descend
+Upon that Mountain; none beholds them there,
+Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun,
+Or the star-beams dart through them. Winds contend
+Silently there, and heap the snow with breath
+Rapid and strong, but silently! Its home
+The voiceless lightning in these solitudes
+Keeps innocently, and like vapour broods
+Over the snow. The secret Strength of things
+Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome
+Of Heaven is as a law, inhabits thee!
+And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,
+If to the human mind's imaginings
+Silence and solitude were vacancy?</poem>
 ++++
 ++++58	Night|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>SWIFTLY walk o'er the western wave,
+Spirit of Night!
+Out of the misty eastern cave,--
+Where, all the long and lone daylight,
+Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear
+Which make thee terrible and dear,--
+Swift be thy flight!
+Wrap thy form in a mantle grey,
+Star-inwrought!
+Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
+Kiss her until she be wearied out.
+Then wander o'er city and sea and land,
+Touching all with thine opiate wand--
+Come, long-sought!
+When I arose and saw the dawn,
+I sigh'd for thee;
+When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
+And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
+And the weary Day turn'd to his rest,
+Lingering like an unloved guest,
+I sigh'd for thee.
+Thy brother Death came, and cried,
+'Wouldst thou me?'
+Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
+Murmur'd like a noontide bee,
+'Shall I nestle near thy side?
+Wouldst thou me?'--And I replied,
+'No, not thee!'
+Death will come when thou art dead,
+Soon, too soon--
+Sleep will come when thou art fled.
+Of neither would I ask the boon
+I ask of thee, beloved Night--
+Swift be thine approaching flight,
+Come soon, soon!</poem>
 ++++
 ++++59	Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats|
-<poem></poem>
+<poem>I weep for Adonais--he is dead!
+Oh, weep for Adonais! though our tears
+Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
+And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years
+To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers,
+And teach them thine own sorrow, say: "With me
+Died Adonais; till the Future dares
+Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be
+An echo and a light unto eternity!"
+Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay,
+When thy Son lay, pierc'd by the shaft which flies
+In darkness? where was lorn Urania
+When Adonais died? With veiled eyes,
+'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise
+She sate, while one, with soft enamour'd breath,
+Rekindled all the fading melodies,
+With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath,
+He had adorn'd and hid the coming bulk of Death.
+Oh, weep for Adonais--he is dead!
+Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep!
+Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed
+Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep
+Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep;
+For he is gone, where all things wise and fair
+Descend--oh, dream not that the amorous Deep
+Will yet restore him to the vital air;
+Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.
+Most musical of mourners, weep again!
+Lament anew, Urania! He died,
+Who was the Sire of an immortal strain,
+Blind, old and lonely, when his country's pride,
+The priest, the slave and the liberticide,
+Trampled and mock'd with many a loathed rite
+Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified,
+Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite
+Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.
+Most musical of mourners, weep anew!
+Not all to that bright station dar'd to climb;
+And happier they their happiness who knew,
+Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time
+In which suns perish'd; others more sublime,
+Struck by the envious wrath of man or god,
+Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime;
+And some yet live, treading the thorny road,
+Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode.
+But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perish'd,
+The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew,
+Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherish'd,
+And fed with true-love tears, instead of dew;
+Most musical of mourners, weep anew!
+Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last,
+The bloom, whose petals nipp'd before they blew
+Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste;
+The broken lily lies--the storm is overpast.
+To that high Capital, where kingly Death
+Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay,
+He came; and bought, with price of purest breath,
+A grave among the eternal.--Come away!
+Haste, while the vault of blue Italian day
+Is yet his fitting charnel-roof! while still
+He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay;
+Awake him not! surely he takes his fill
+Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill.
+He will awake no more, oh, never more!
+Within the twilight chamber spreads apace
+The shadow of white Death, and at the door
+Invisible Corruption waits to trace
+His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place;
+The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe
+Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface
+So fair a prey, till darkness and the law
+Of change shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw.
+Oh, weep for Adonais! The quick Dreams,
+The passion-winged Ministers of thought,
+Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams
+Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught
+The love which was its music, wander not--
+Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain,
+But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn their lot
+Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain,
+They ne'er will gather strength, or find a home again.
+And one with trembling hands clasps his cold head,
+And fans him with her moonlight wings, and cries,
+"Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead;
+See, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes,
+Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies
+A tear some Dream has loosen'd from his brain."
+Lost Angel of a ruin'd Paradise!
+She knew not 'twas her own; as with no stain
+She faded, like a cloud which had outwept its rain.
+One from a lucid urn of starry dew
+Wash'd his light limbs as if embalming them;
+Another clipp'd her profuse locks, and threw
+The wreath upon him, like an anadem,
+Which frozen tears instead of pearls begem;
+Another in her wilful grief would break
+Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem
+A greater loss with one which was more weak;
+And dull the barbed fire against his frozen cheek.
+Another Splendour on his mouth alit,
+That mouth, whence it was wont to draw the breath
+Which gave it strength to pierce the guarded wit,
+And pass into the panting heart beneath
+With lightning and with music: the damp death
+Quench'd its caress upon his icy lips;
+And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath
+Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips,
+It flush'd through his pale limbs, and pass'd to its eclipse.
+And others came . . . Desires and Adorations,
+Winged Persuasions and veil'd Destinies,
+Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations
+Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies;
+And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs,
+And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam
+Of her own dying smile instead of eyes,
+Came in slow pomp; the moving pomp might seem
+Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.
+All he had lov'd, and moulded into thought,
+From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound,
+Lamented Adonais. Morning sought
+Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound,
+Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground,
+Dimm'd the aëreal eyes that kindle day;
+Afar the melancholy thunder moan'd,
+Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay,
+And the wild Winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay.
+Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
+And feeds her grief with his remember'd lay,
+And will no more reply to winds or fountains,
+Or amorous birds perch'd on the young green spray,
+Or herdsman's horn, or bell at closing day;
+Since she can mimic not his lips, more dear
+Than those for whose disdain she pin'd away
+Into a shadow of all sounds: a drear
+Murmur, between their songs, is all the woodmen hear.
+Grief made the young Spring wild, and she threw down
+Her kindling buds, as if she Autumn were,
+Or they dead leaves; since her delight is flown,
+For whom should she have wak'd the sullen year?
+To Phoebus was not Hyacinth so dear
+Nor to himself Narcissus, as to both
+Thou, Adonais: wan they stand and sere
+Amid the faint companions of their youth,
+With dew all turn'd to tears; odour, to sighing ruth.
+Thy spirit's sister, the lorn nightingale
+Mourns not her mate with such melodious pain;
+Not so the eagle, who like thee could scale
+Heaven, and could nourish in the sun's domain
+Her mighty youth with morning, doth complain,
+Soaring and screaming round her empty nest,
+As Albion wails for thee: the curse of Cain
+Light on his head who pierc'd thy innocent breast,
+And scar'd the angel soul that was its earthly guest!
+Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone,
+But grief returns with the revolving year;
+The airs and streams renew their joyous tone;
+The ants, the bees, the swallows reappear;
+Fresh leaves and flowers deck the dead Seasons' bier;
+The amorous birds now pair in every brake,
+And build their mossy homes in field and brere;
+And the green lizard, and the golden snake,
+Like unimprison'd flames, out of their trance awake.
+Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean
+A quickening life from the Earth's heart has burst
+As it has ever done, with change and motion,
+From the great morning of the world when first
+God dawn'd on Chaos; in its stream immers'd,
+The lamps of Heaven flash with a softer light;
+All baser things pant with life's sacred thirst;
+Diffuse themselves; and spend in love's delight,
+The beauty and the joy of their renewed might.
+The leprous corpse, touch'd by this spirit tender,
+Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath;
+Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour
+Is chang'd to fragrance, they illumine death
+And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath;
+Nought we know, dies. Shall that alone which knows
+Be as a sword consum'd before the sheath
+By sightless lightning?--the intense atom glows
+A moment, then is quench'd in a most cold repose.
+Alas! that all we lov'd of him should be,
+But for our grief, as if it had not been,
+And grief itself be mortal! Woe is me!
+Whence are we, and why are we? of what scene
+The actors or spectators? Great and mean
+Meet mass'd in death, who lends what life must borrow.
+As long as skies are blue, and fields are green,
+Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow,
+Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow.
+He will awake no more, oh, never more!
+"Wake thou," cried Misery, "childless Mother, rise
+Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart's core,
+A wound more fierce than his, with tears and sighs."
+And all the Dreams that watch'd Urania's eyes,
+And all the Echoes whom their sister's song
+Had held in holy silence, cried: "Arise!"
+Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung,
+From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendour sprung.
+She rose like an autumnal Night, that springs
+Out of the East, and follows wild and drear
+The golden Day, which, on eternal wings,
+Even as a ghost abandoning a bier,
+Had left the Earth a corpse. Sorrow and fear
+So struck, so rous'd, so rapt Urania;
+So sadden'd round her like an atmosphere
+Of stormy mist; so swept her on her way
+Even to the mournful place where Adonais lay.
+Out of her secret Paradise she sped,
+Through camps and cities rough with stone, and steel,
+And human hearts, which to her aery tread
+Yielding not, wounded the invisible
+Palms of her tender feet where'er they fell:
+And barbed tongues, and thoughts more sharp than they,
+Rent the soft Form they never could repel,
+Whose sacred blood, like the young tears of May,
+Pav'd with eternal flowers that undeserving way.
+In the death-chamber for a moment Death,
+Sham'd by the presence of that living Might,
+Blush'd to annihilation, and the breath
+Revisited those lips, and Life's pale light
+Flash'd through those limbs, so late her dear delight.
+"Leave me not wild and drear and comfortless,
+As silent lightning leaves the starless night!
+Leave me not!" cried Urania: her distress
+Rous'd Death: Death rose and smil'd, and met her vain caress.
+"Stay yet awhile! speak to me once again;
+Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may live;
+And in my heartless breast and burning brain
+That word, that kiss, shall all thoughts else survive,
+With food of saddest memory kept alive,
+Now thou art dead, as if it were a part
+Of thee, my Adonais! I would give
+All that I am to be as thou now art!
+But I am chain'd to Time, and cannot thence depart!
+"O gentle child, beautiful as thou wert,
+Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men
+Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart
+Dare the unpastur'd dragon in his den?
+Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then
+Wisdom the mirror'd shield, or scorn the spear?
+Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when
+Thy spirit should have fill'd its crescent sphere,
+The monsters of life's waste had fled from thee like deer.
+"The herded wolves, bold only to pursue;
+The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead;
+The vultures to the conqueror's banner true
+Who feed where Desolation first has fed,
+And whose wings rain contagion; how they fled,
+When, like Apollo, from his golden bow
+The Pythian of the age one arrow sped
+And smil'd! The spoilers tempt no second blow,
+They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low.
+"The sun comes forth, and many reptiles spawn;
+He sets, and each ephemeral insect then
+Is gather'd into death without a dawn,
+And the immortal stars awake again;
+So is it in the world of living men:
+A godlike mind soars forth, in its delight
+Making earth bare and veiling heaven, and when
+It sinks, the swarms that dimm'd or shar'd its light
+Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit's awful night."
+Thus ceas'd she: and the mountain shepherds came,
+Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent;
+The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame
+Over his living head like Heaven is bent,
+An early but enduring monument,
+Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song
+In sorrow; from her wilds Ierne sent
+The sweetest lyrist of her saddest wrong,
+And Love taught Grief to fall like music from his tongue.
+Midst others of less note, came one frail Form,
+A phantom among men; companionless
+As the last cloud of an expiring storm
+Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess,
+Had gaz'd on Nature's naked loveliness,
+Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray
+With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness,
+And his own thoughts, along that rugged way,
+Pursu'd, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.
+A pardlike Spirit beautiful and swift--
+A Love in desolation mask'd--a Power
+Girt round with weakness--it can scarce uplift
+The weight of the superincumbent hour;
+It is a dying lamp, a falling shower,
+A breaking billow; even whilst we speak
+Is it not broken? On the withering flower
+The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek
+The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break.
+His head was bound with pansies overblown,
+And faded violets, white, and pied, and blue;
+And a light spear topp'd with a cypress cone,
+Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew
+Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew,
+Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart
+Shook the weak hand that grasp'd it; of that crew
+He came the last, neglected and apart;
+A herd-abandon'd deer struck by the hunter's dart.
+All stood aloof, and at his partial moan
+Smil'd through their tears; well knew that gentle band
+Who in another's fate now wept his own,
+As in the accents of an unknown land
+He sung new sorrow; sad Urania scann'd
+The Stranger's mien, and murmur'd: "Who art thou?"
+He answer'd not, but with a sudden hand
+Made bare his branded and ensanguin'd brow,
+Which was like Cain's or Christ's--oh! that it should be so!
+What softer voice is hush'd over the dead?
+Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown?
+What form leans sadly o'er the white death-bed,
+In mockery of monumental stone,
+The heavy heart heaving without a moan?
+If it be He, who, gentlest of the wise,
+Taught, sooth'd, lov'd, honour'd the departed one,
+Let me not vex, with inharmonious sighs,
+The silence of that heart's accepted sacrifice.
+Our Adonais has drunk poison--oh!
+What deaf and viperous murderer could crown
+Life's early cup with such a draught of woe?
+The nameless worm would now itself disown:
+It felt, yet could escape, the magic tone
+Whose prelude held all envy, hate and wrong,
+But what was howling in one breast alone,
+Silent with expectation of the song,
+Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.
+Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame!
+Live! fear no heavier chastisement from me,
+Thou noteless blot on a remember'd name!
+But be thyself, and know thyself to be!
+And ever at thy season be thou free
+To spill the venom when thy fangs o'erflow;
+Remorse and Self-contempt shall cling to thee;
+Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret brow,
+And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt--as now.
+Nor let us weep that our delight is fled
+Far from these carrion kites that scream below;
+He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead;
+Thou canst not soar where he is sitting now.
+Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow
+Back to the burning fountain whence it came,
+A portion of the Eternal, which must glow
+Through time and change, unquenchably the same,
+Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame.
+Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep,
+He hath awaken'd from the dream of life;
+'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
+With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
+And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife
+Invulnerable nothings. We decay
+Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
+Convulse us and consume us day by day,
+And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
+He has outsoar'd the shadow of our night;
+Envy and calumny and hate and pain,
+And that unrest which men miscall delight,
+Can touch him not and torture not again;
+From the contagion of the world's slow stain
+He is secure, and now can never mourn
+A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain;
+Nor, when the spirit's self has ceas'd to burn,
+With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.
+He lives, he wakes--'tis Death is dead, not he;
+Mourn not for Adonais. Thou young Dawn,
+Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee
+The spirit thou lamentest is not gone;
+Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan!
+Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains, and thou Air,
+Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown
+O'er the abandon'd Earth, now leave it bare
+Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair!
+He is made one with Nature: there is heard
+His voice in all her music, from the moan
+Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird;
+He is a presence to be felt and known
+In darkness and in light, from herb and stone,
+Spreading itself where'er that Power may move
+Which has withdrawn his being to its own;
+Which wields the world with never-wearied love,
+Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
+He is a portion of the loveliness
+Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear
+His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress
+Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there
+All new successions to the forms they wear;
+Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight
+To its own likeness, as each mass may bear;
+And bursting in its beauty and its might
+From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light.
+The splendours of the firmament of time
+May be eclips'd, but are extinguish'd not;
+Like stars to their appointed height they climb,
+And death is a low mist which cannot blot
+The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought
+Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair,
+And love and life contend in it for what
+Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there
+And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.
+The inheritors of unfulfill'd renown
+Rose from their thrones, built beyond mortal thought,
+Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton
+Rose pale, his solemn agony had not
+Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he fought
+And as he fell and as he liv'd and lov'd
+Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot,
+Arose; and Lucan, by his death approv'd:
+Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reprov'd.
+And many more, whose names on Earth are dark,
+But whose transmitted effluence cannot die
+So long as fire outlives the parent spark,
+Rose, rob'd in dazzling immortality.
+"Thou art become as one of us," they cry,
+"It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long
+Swung blind in unascended majesty,
+Silent alone amid a Heaven of Song.
+Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper of our throng!"
+Who mourns for Adonais? Oh, come forth,
+Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright.
+Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth;
+As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light
+Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might
+Satiate the void circumference: then shrink
+Even to a point within our day and night;
+And keep thy heart light lest it make thee sink
+When hope has kindled hope, and lur'd thee to the brink.
+Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre,
+Oh, not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought
+That ages, empires and religions there
+Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought;
+For such as he can lend--they borrow not
+Glory from those who made the world their prey;
+And he is gather'd to the kings of thought
+Who wag'd contention with their time's decay,
+And of the past are all that cannot pass away.
+Go thou to Rome--at once the Paradise,
+The grave, the city, and the wilderness;
+And where its wrecks like shatter'd mountains rise,
+And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress
+The bones of Desolation's nakedness
+Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead
+Thy footsteps to a slope of green access
+Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead
+A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread;
+And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time
+Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand;
+And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime,
+Pavilioning the dust of him who plann'd
+This refuge for his memory, doth stand
+Like flame transform'd to marble; and beneath,
+A field is spread, on which a newer band
+Have pitch'd in Heaven's smile their camp of death,
+Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguish'd breath.
+Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet
+To have outgrown the sorrow which consign'd
+Its charge to each; and if the seal is set,
+Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,
+Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find
+Thine own well full, if thou returnest home,
+Of tears and gall. From the world's bitter wind
+Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb.
+What Adonais is, why fear we to become?
+The One remains, the many change and pass;
+Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
+Life, like a dome of many-colour'd glass,
+Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
+Until Death tramples it to fragments.--Die,
+If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
+Follow where all is fled!--Rome's azure sky,
+Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak
+The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.
+Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart?
+Thy hopes are gone before: from all things here
+They have departed; thou shouldst now depart!
+A light is pass'd from the revolving year,
+And man, and woman; and what still is dear
+Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither.
+The soft sky smiles, the low wind whispers near:
+'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither,
+No more let Life divide what Death can join together.
+That Light whose smile kindles the Universe,
+That Beauty in which all things work and move,
+That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse
+Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love
+Which through the web of being blindly wove
+By man and beast and earth and air and sea,
+Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of
+The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me,
+Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
+The breath whose might I have invok'd in song
+Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven,
+Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng
+Whose sails were never to the tempest given;
+The massy earth and sphered skies are riven!
+I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar;
+Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven,
+The soul of Adonais, like a star,
+Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
+</poem>
 ++++
 ++++60	Song|

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