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문학:영문학:영국:셸리 [2020/10/08 19:15] clayeryan@gmail.com [작품목록] |
문학:영문학:영국:셸리 [2020/10/08 19:22] clayeryan@gmail.com [작품목록] |
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줄 5248: | 줄 5248: | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++56 Hellas| | ++++56 Hellas| | ||
- | < | + | < |
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++57 Mont Blanc: Lines Writen in the Vale of Chamouni| | ++++57 Mont Blanc: Lines Writen in the Vale of Chamouni| | ||
- | < | + | < |
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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; | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Of the aethereal waterfall, whose veil | ||
+ | Robes some unsculptur' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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, | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | And the wolf tracks her there--how hideously | ||
+ | Its shapes are heap'd around! rude, bare, and high, | ||
+ | Ghastly, and scarr' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Branchless and shatter' | ||
+ | From yon remotest waste, have overthrown | ||
+ | The limits of the dead and living world, | ||
+ | Never to be reclaim' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | And their place is not known. Below, vast caves | ||
+ | Shine in the rushing torrents' | ||
+ | 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?</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++58 Night| | ++++58 Night| | ||
- | < | + | < |
+ | 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, | ||
+ | ' | ||
+ | Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, | ||
+ | Murmur' | ||
+ | 'Shall I nestle near thy side? | ||
+ | Wouldst thou me?' | ||
+ | '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!</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++59 Adonais: | ++++59 Adonais: | ||
- | < | + | < |
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Rekindled all the fading melodies, | ||
+ | With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, | ||
+ | He had adorn' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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, | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, | ||
+ | Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherish' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath | ||
+ | Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, | ||
+ | It flush' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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, | ||
+ | Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground, | ||
+ | Dimm'd the aëreal eyes that kindle day; | ||
+ | Afar the melancholy thunder moan' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | And will no more reply to winds or fountains, | ||
+ | Or amorous birds perch' | ||
+ | Or herdsman' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean | ||
+ | A quickening life from the Earth' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath; | ||
+ | Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour | ||
+ | Is chang' | ||
+ | And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath; | ||
+ | Nought we know, dies. Shall that alone which knows | ||
+ | Be as a sword consum' | ||
+ | By sightless lightning? | ||
+ | A moment, then is quench' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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, " | ||
+ | Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart' | ||
+ | A wound more fierce than his, with tears and sighs." | ||
+ | And all the Dreams that watch' | ||
+ | And all the Echoes whom their sister' | ||
+ | Had held in holy silence, cried: " | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | So sadden' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Revisited those lips, and Life's pale light | ||
+ | Flash' | ||
+ | "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' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "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' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "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' | ||
+ | Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then | ||
+ | Wisdom the mirror' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Actaeon-like, | ||
+ | With feeble steps o'er the world' | ||
+ | And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, | ||
+ | Pursu' | ||
+ | |||
+ | A pardlike Spirit beautiful and swift-- | ||
+ | A Love in desolation mask' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart | ||
+ | Shook the weak hand that grasp' | ||
+ | He came the last, neglected and apart; | ||
+ | A herd-abandon' | ||
+ | |||
+ | All stood aloof, and at his partial moan | ||
+ | Smil'd through their tears; well knew that gentle band | ||
+ | Who in another' | ||
+ | As in the accents of an unknown land | ||
+ | He sung new sorrow; sad Urania scann' | ||
+ | The Stranger' | ||
+ | He answer' | ||
+ | Made bare his branded and ensanguin' | ||
+ | Which was like Cain's or Christ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Let me not vex, with inharmonious sighs, | ||
+ | The silence of that heart' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame! | ||
+ | Live! fear no heavier chastisement from me, | ||
+ | Thou noteless blot on a remember' | ||
+ | But be thyself, and know thyself to be! | ||
+ | And ever at thy season be thou free | ||
+ | To spill the venom when thy fangs o' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep | ||
+ | With phantoms an unprofitable strife, | ||
+ | And in mad trance, strike with our spirit' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | He is secure, and now can never mourn | ||
+ | A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; | ||
+ | Nor, when the spirit' | ||
+ | With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | He lives, he wakes--' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | He is a presence to be felt and known | ||
+ | In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, | ||
+ | Spreading itself where' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | |||
+ | The splendours of the firmament of time | ||
+ | May be eclips' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot, | ||
+ | Arose; and Lucan, by his death approv' | ||
+ | Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reprov' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might | ||
+ | Satiate the void circumference: | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress | ||
+ | The bones of Desolation' | ||
+ | Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead | ||
+ | Thy footsteps to a slope of green access | ||
+ | Where, like an infant' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | This refuge for his memory, doth stand | ||
+ | Like flame transform' | ||
+ | A field is spread, on which a newer band | ||
+ | Have pitch' | ||
+ | Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguish' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet | ||
+ | To have outgrown the sorrow which consign' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Life, like a dome of many-colour' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | Descends on me; my spirit' | ||
+ | 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. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++60 Song| | ++++60 Song| |