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문학:영문학:영국:셸리 [2020/09/08 20:27] clayeryan@gmail.com |
문학:영문학:영국:셸리 [2020/10/08 19:38] (현재) clayeryan@gmail.com [작품목록] |
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줄 54: | 줄 54: | ||
++++1 Ozymandias| | ++++1 Ozymandias| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | I met a traveller from an antique land | ||
+ | Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone | ||
+ | Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, | ||
+ | Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, | ||
+ | And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, | ||
+ | Tell that its sculptor well those passions read | ||
+ | Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, | ||
+ | The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: | ||
+ | And on the pedestal these words appear: | ||
+ | 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: | ||
+ | Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' | ||
+ | Nothing beside remains. Round the decay | ||
+ | Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare | ||
+ | The lone and level sands stretch far away." | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++2 Good-Night| | ++++2 Good-Night| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Which severs those it should unite; | ||
+ | Let us remain together still, | ||
+ | Then it will be good night. | ||
+ | How can I call the lone night good, | ||
+ | Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight? | ||
+ | Be it not said, thought, understood -- | ||
+ | Then it will be -- good night. | ||
+ | |||
+ | To hearts which near each other move | ||
+ | From evening close to morning light, | ||
+ | The night is good; because, my love, | ||
+ | They never say good-night. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++3 Love' | ++++3 Love' | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | The fountains mingle with the river | ||
+ | And the rivers with the ocean, | ||
+ | The winds of Heaven mix for ever | ||
+ | With a sweet emotion; | ||
+ | Nothing in the world is single, | ||
+ | All things by a law divine | ||
+ | In one spirit meet and mingle - | ||
+ | Why not I with thine? | ||
+ | See the mountains kiss high Heaven | ||
+ | And the waves clasp one another; | ||
+ | No sister-flower would be forgiven | ||
+ | If it disdained its brother; | ||
+ | And the sunlight clasps the earth, | ||
+ | And the moonbeams kiss the sea - | ||
+ | What are all these kissings worth | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++4 Time Long Past| | ++++4 Time Long Past| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Like the ghost of a dear friend dead | ||
+ | Is Time long past. | ||
+ | A tone which is now forever fled, | ||
+ | A hope which is now forever past, | ||
+ | A love so sweet it could not last, | ||
+ | Was Time long past. | ||
+ | There were sweet dreams in the night | ||
+ | Of Time long past: | ||
+ | And, was it sadness or delight, | ||
+ | Each day a shadow onward cast | ||
+ | Which made us wish it yet might last-- | ||
+ | That Time long past. | ||
+ | |||
+ | There is regret, almost remorse, | ||
+ | For Time long past. | ||
+ | 'Tis like a child' | ||
+ | A father watches, till at last | ||
+ | Beauty is like remembrance, | ||
+ | From Time long past. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++5 Ode To The West Wind| | ++++5 Ode To The West Wind| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | I | ||
+ | O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn' | ||
+ | Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead | ||
+ | Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, | ||
+ | Pestilence-stricken multitudes: 0 thou, | ||
+ | Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed | ||
+ | |||
+ | The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low, | ||
+ | Each like a corpse within its grave,until | ||
+ | Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow | ||
+ | |||
+ | Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill | ||
+ | (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) | ||
+ | With living hues and odours plain and hill: | ||
+ | |||
+ | Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; | ||
+ | Destroyer and Preserver; hear, O hear! | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | II | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion, | ||
+ | Loose clouds like Earth' | ||
+ | Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread | ||
+ | On the blue surface of thine airy surge, | ||
+ | Like the bright hair uplifted from the head | ||
+ | |||
+ | Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge | ||
+ | Of the horizon to the zenith' | ||
+ | The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge | ||
+ | |||
+ | Of the dying year, to which this closing night | ||
+ | Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre | ||
+ | Vaulted with all thy congregated might | ||
+ | |||
+ | Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere | ||
+ | Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: O hear! | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | III | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams | ||
+ | The blue Mediterranean, | ||
+ | Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Beside a pumice isle in Baiae' | ||
+ | And saw in sleep old palaces and towers | ||
+ | Quivering within the wave's intenser day, | ||
+ | |||
+ | All overgrown with azure moss and flowers | ||
+ | So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou | ||
+ | For whose path the Atlantic' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below | ||
+ | The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear | ||
+ | The sapless foliage of the ocean, know | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, | ||
+ | And tremble and despoil themselves: O hear! | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | IV | ||
+ | |||
+ | If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; | ||
+ | If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; | ||
+ | A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share | ||
+ | |||
+ | The impulse of thy strength, only less free | ||
+ | Than thou, O Uncontrollable! If even | ||
+ | I were as in my boyhood, and could be | ||
+ | |||
+ | The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, | ||
+ | As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed | ||
+ | Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven | ||
+ | |||
+ | As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. | ||
+ | Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! | ||
+ | I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! | ||
+ | |||
+ | A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed | ||
+ | One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | V | ||
+ | |||
+ | Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: | ||
+ | What if my leaves are falling like its own! | ||
+ | The tumult of thy mighty harmonies | ||
+ | |||
+ | Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, | ||
+ | Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, | ||
+ | My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Drive my dead thoughts over the universe | ||
+ | Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! | ||
+ | And, by the incantation of this verse, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth | ||
+ | Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! | ||
+ | Be through my lips to unawakened Earth | ||
+ | |||
+ | The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, | ||
+ | If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
- | ++++6 To A Skylark| | + | ++++6 To A Skylark|< |
+ | Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! | ||
+ | Bird thou never wert, | ||
+ | That from heaven, or near it, | ||
+ | Pourest thy full heart | ||
+ | In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. | ||
+ | Higher still and higher | ||
+ | From the earth thou springest | ||
+ | Like a cloud of fire; | ||
+ | The blue deep thou wingest, | ||
+ | And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In the golden lightning | ||
+ | Of the sunken sun, | ||
+ | O'er which clouds are bright' | ||
+ | Thou dost float and run, | ||
+ | Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The pale purple even | ||
+ | Melts around thy flight; | ||
+ | Like a star of heaven | ||
+ | In the broad daylight | ||
+ | Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight -- | ||
+ | |||
+ | Keen as are the arrows | ||
+ | Of that silver sphere | ||
+ | Whose intense lamp narrows | ||
+ | In the white dawn clear | ||
+ | Until we hardly see -- we feel that it is there. | ||
+ | |||
+ | All the earth and air | ||
+ | With thy voice is loud, | ||
+ | As, when night is bare, | ||
+ | From one lonely cloud | ||
+ | The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. | ||
+ | |||
+ | What thou art we know not; | ||
+ | What is most like thee? | ||
+ | From rainbow clouds there flow not | ||
+ | Drops so bright to see | ||
+ | As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Like a poet hidden | ||
+ | In the light of thought, | ||
+ | Singing hymns unbidden, | ||
+ | Till the world is wrought | ||
+ | To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: | ||
+ | |||
+ | Like a high-born maiden | ||
+ | In a palace tower, | ||
+ | Soothing her love-laden | ||
+ | Soul in secret hour | ||
+ | With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: | ||
+ | |||
+ | Like a glow-worm golden | ||
+ | In a dell of dew, | ||
+ | Scattering unbeholden | ||
+ | Its aerial hue | ||
+ | Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view: | ||
+ | |||
+ | Like a rose embowered | ||
+ | In its own green leaves, | ||
+ | By warm winds deflowered, | ||
+ | Till the scent it gives | ||
+ | Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves: | ||
+ | |||
+ | Sound of vernal showers | ||
+ | On the twinkling grass, | ||
+ | Rain-awakened flowers, | ||
+ | All that ever was | ||
+ | Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Teach us, sprite or bird, | ||
+ | What sweet thoughts are thine: | ||
+ | I have never heard | ||
+ | Praise of love or wine | ||
+ | That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Chorus hymeneal | ||
+ | Or triumphal chaunt | ||
+ | Matched with thine would be all | ||
+ | But an empty vaunt -- | ||
+ | A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. | ||
+ | |||
+ | What objects are the fountains | ||
+ | Of thy happy strain? | ||
+ | What fields, or waves, or mountains? | ||
+ | What shapes of sky or plain? | ||
+ | What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? | ||
+ | |||
+ | With thy clear keen joyance | ||
+ | Languor cannot be: | ||
+ | Shadow of annoyance | ||
+ | Never came near thee: | ||
+ | Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Waking or asleep, | ||
+ | Thou of death must deem | ||
+ | Things more true and deep | ||
+ | Than we mortals dream, | ||
+ | Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? | ||
+ | |||
+ | We look before and after, | ||
+ | And pine for what is not: | ||
+ | Our sincerest laughter | ||
+ | With some pain is fraught; | ||
+ | Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yet if we could scorn | ||
+ | Hate, and pride, and fear; | ||
+ | If we were things born | ||
+ | Not to shed a tear, | ||
+ | I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Better than all measures | ||
+ | Of delightful sound, | ||
+ | Better than all treasures | ||
+ | That in books are found, | ||
+ | Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Teach me half the gladness | ||
+ | That thy brain must know, | ||
+ | Such harmonious madness | ||
+ | From my lips would flow | ||
+ | The world should listen then, as I am listening now! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
- | ++++7 Mutability|++++ | + | ++++7 Mutability| |
+ | < | ||
+ | We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; | ||
+ | How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, | ||
+ | Streaking the darkness radiantly! -yet soon | ||
+ | Night closes round, and they are lost for ever: | ||
+ | Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings | ||
+ | Give various response to each varying blast, | ||
+ | To whose frail frame no second motion brings | ||
+ | One mood or modulation like the last. | ||
+ | |||
+ | We rest. -- A dream has power to poison sleep; | ||
+ | We rise. -- One wandering thought pollutes the day; | ||
+ | We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; | ||
+ | Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away: | ||
+ | |||
+ | It is the same! -- For, be it joy or sorrow, | ||
+ | The path of its departure still is free: | ||
+ | Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; | ||
+ | Nought may endure but Mutablilty. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ | ||
++++8 The Cloud| | ++++8 The Cloud| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, | ||
+ | From the seas and the streams; | ||
+ | I bear light shade for the leaves when laid | ||
+ | In their noonday dreams. | ||
+ | From my wings are shaken the dews that waken | ||
+ | The sweet buds every one, | ||
+ | When rocked to rest on their mother' | ||
+ | As she dances about the sun. | ||
+ | I wield the flail of the lashing hail, | ||
+ | And whiten the green plains under, | ||
+ | And then again I dissolve it in rain, | ||
+ | And laugh as I pass in thunder. | ||
+ | I sift the snow on the mountains below, | ||
+ | And their great pines groan aghast; | ||
+ | And all the night 'tis my pillow white, | ||
+ | While I sleep in the arms of the blast. | ||
+ | Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, | ||
+ | Lightning, my pilot, sits; | ||
+ | In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, | ||
+ | It struggles and howls at fits; | ||
+ | |||
+ | Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, | ||
+ | This pilot is guiding me, | ||
+ | Lured by the love of the genii that move | ||
+ | In the depths of the purple sea; | ||
+ | Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, | ||
+ | Over the lakes and the plains, | ||
+ | Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, | ||
+ | The Spirit he loves remains; | ||
+ | And I all the while bask in Heaven' | ||
+ | Whilst he is dissolving in rains. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, | ||
+ | And his burning plumes outspread, | ||
+ | Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, | ||
+ | When the morning star shines dead; | ||
+ | As on the jag of a mountain crag, | ||
+ | Which an earthquake rocks and swings, | ||
+ | An eagle alit one moment may sit | ||
+ | In the light of its golden wings. | ||
+ | And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, | ||
+ | Its ardors of rest and of love, | ||
+ | |||
+ | And the crimson pall of eve may fall | ||
+ | From the depth of Heaven above, | ||
+ | With wings folded I rest, on mine aery nest, | ||
+ | As still as a brooding dove. | ||
+ | That orbed maiden with white fire laden, | ||
+ | Whom mortals call the Moon, | ||
+ | Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, | ||
+ | By the midnight breezes strewn; | ||
+ | And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, | ||
+ | Which only the angels hear, | ||
+ | May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, | ||
+ | The stars peep behind her and peer; | ||
+ | And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, | ||
+ | Like a swarm of golden bees, | ||
+ | When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, | ||
+ | Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, | ||
+ | Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, | ||
+ | Are each paved with the moon and these. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone, | ||
+ | And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl; | ||
+ | The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim | ||
+ | When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. | ||
+ | From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, | ||
+ | Over a torrent sea, | ||
+ | Sunbeam-proof, | ||
+ | The mountains its columns be. | ||
+ | The triumphal arch through which I march | ||
+ | With hurricane, fire, and snow, | ||
+ | When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair, | ||
+ | Is the million-colored bow; | ||
+ | The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, | ||
+ | While the moist Earth was laughing below. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I am the daughter of Earth and Water, | ||
+ | And the nursling of the Sky; | ||
+ | I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; | ||
+ | I change, but I cannot die. | ||
+ | For after the rain when with never a stain | ||
+ | The pavilion of Heaven is bare, | ||
+ | And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams | ||
+ | Build up the blue dome of air, | ||
+ | I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, | ||
+ | And out of the caverns of rain, | ||
+ | Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, | ||
+ | I arise and unbuild it again. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++9 Music, | ++++9 Music, | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, | ||
+ | Love itself shall slumber on. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++10 Hymn To Intellectual Beauty| | ++++10 Hymn To Intellectual Beauty| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | The awful shadow of some unseen Power | ||
+ | Floats through unseen among us, -- visiting | ||
+ | This various world with as inconstant wing | ||
+ | As summer winds that creep from flower to flower, -- | ||
+ | Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, | ||
+ | It visits with inconstant glance | ||
+ | Each human heart and countenance; | ||
+ | Like hues and harmonies of evening, -- | ||
+ | Like clouds in starlight widely spread, -- | ||
+ | Like memory of music fled, -- | ||
+ | Like aught that for its grace may be | ||
+ | Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Spirit of Beauty, that dost consecrate | ||
+ | With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon | ||
+ | Of human thought or form, -- where art thou gone? | ||
+ | Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, | ||
+ | This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate? | ||
+ | Ask why the sunlight not for ever | ||
+ | Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain-river, | ||
+ | Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown, | ||
+ | Why fear and dream and death and birth | ||
+ | Cast on the daylight of this earth | ||
+ | Such gloom, -- why man has such a scope | ||
+ | For love and hate, despondency and hope? | ||
+ | |||
+ | No voice from some sublimer world hath ever | ||
+ | To sage or poet these responses given -- | ||
+ | Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven, | ||
+ | Remain the records of their vain endeavour, | ||
+ | Frail spells -- whose uttered charm might not avail to sever, | ||
+ | From all we hear and all we see, | ||
+ | Doubt, chance, and mutability. | ||
+ | Thy light alone -- like mist oe'er the mountains driven, | ||
+ | Or music by the night-wind sent | ||
+ | Through strings of some still instrument, | ||
+ | Or moonlight on a midnight stream, | ||
+ | Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, | ||
+ | And come, for some uncertain moments lent. | ||
+ | Man were immortal, and omnipotent, | ||
+ | Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, | ||
+ | Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart. | ||
+ | Thou messgenger of sympathies, | ||
+ | That wax and wane in lovers' | ||
+ | Thou -- that to human thought art nourishment, | ||
+ | Like darkness to a dying flame! | ||
+ | Depart not as thy shadow came, | ||
+ | Depart not -- lest the grave should be, | ||
+ | Like life and fear, a dark reality. | ||
+ | |||
+ | While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped | ||
+ | Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, | ||
+ | And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing | ||
+ | Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. | ||
+ | I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed; | ||
+ | I was not heard -- I saw them not -- | ||
+ | When musing deeply on the lot | ||
+ | Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing | ||
+ | All vital things that wake to bring | ||
+ | News of birds and blossoming, -- | ||
+ | Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; | ||
+ | I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy! | ||
+ | |||
+ | I vowed that I would dedicate my powers | ||
+ | To thee and thine -- have I not kept the vow? | ||
+ | With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now | ||
+ | I call the phantoms of a thousand hours | ||
+ | Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers | ||
+ | Of studious zeal or love's delight | ||
+ | Outwatched with me the envious night -- | ||
+ | They know that never joy illumed my brow | ||
+ | Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free | ||
+ | This world from its dark slavery, | ||
+ | That thou - O awful Loveliness, | ||
+ | Wouldst give whate' | ||
+ | The day becomes more solemn and serene | ||
+ | When noon is past -- there is a harmony | ||
+ | In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, | ||
+ | Which through the summer is not heard or seen, | ||
+ | As if it could not be, as if it had not been! | ||
+ | Thus let thy power, which like the truth | ||
+ | Of nature on my passive youth | ||
+ | Descended, to my onward life supply | ||
+ | Its calm -- to one who worships thee, | ||
+ | And every form containing thee, | ||
+ | Whom, Spirit fair, thy spells did bind | ||
+ | To fear himself, and love all human kind. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++11 I Arise From Dreams Of Thee| | ++++11 I Arise From Dreams Of Thee| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | I arise from dreams of thee | ||
+ | In the first sweet sleep of night, | ||
+ | When the winds are breathing low, | ||
+ | And the stars are shining bright | ||
+ | I arise from dreams of thee, | ||
+ | And a spirit in my feet | ||
+ | Has led me -- who knows how? -- | ||
+ | To thy chamber-window, | ||
+ | The wandering airs they faint | ||
+ | On the dark, the silent stream, -- | ||
+ | The champak odors fall | ||
+ | Like sweet thoughts in a dream, | ||
+ | The nightingale' | ||
+ | It dies upon her heart, | ||
+ | As I must die on thine, | ||
+ | O, beloved as thou art! | ||
+ | |||
+ | O, lift me from the grass! | ||
+ | I die, I faint, I fall! | ||
+ | Let thy love in kisses rain | ||
+ | On my lips and eyelids pale, | ||
+ | My cheek is cold and white, alas! | ||
+ | My Heart beats loud and fast | ||
+ | Oh! press it close to thine again, | ||
+ | Where it will break at last! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++12 To The Moon| | ++++12 To The Moon| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Art thou pale for weariness | ||
+ | Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, | ||
+ | Wandering companionless | ||
+ | Among the stars that have a different birth, -- | ||
+ | And ever changing, like a joyless eye | ||
+ | That finds no object worth its constancy? | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++13 The Triumph of Life| | ++++13 The Triumph of Life| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Swift as a spirit hastening to his task | ||
+ | Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth | ||
+ | Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask | ||
+ | Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth. | ||
+ | The smokeless altars of the mountain snows | ||
+ | Flamed above crimson clouds, & at the birth | ||
+ | Of light, the Ocean' | ||
+ | To which the birds tempered their matin lay, | ||
+ | All flowers in field or forest which unclose | ||
+ | Their trembling eyelids to the kiss of day, | ||
+ | Swinging their censers in the element, | ||
+ | With orient incense lit by the new ray | ||
+ | Burned slow & inconsumably, | ||
+ | Their odorous sighs up to the smiling air, | ||
+ | And in succession due, did Continent, | ||
+ | Isle, Ocean, & all things that in them wear | ||
+ | The form & character of mortal mould | ||
+ | Rise as the Sun their father rose, to bear | ||
+ | Their portion of the toil which he of old | ||
+ | Took as his own & then imposed on them; | ||
+ | But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold | ||
+ | Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem | ||
+ | The cone of night, now they were laid asleep, | ||
+ | Stretched my faint limbs beneath the hoary stem | ||
+ | Which an old chestnut flung athwart the steep | ||
+ | Of a green Apennine: before me fled | ||
+ | The night; behind me rose the day; the Deep | ||
+ | Was at my feet, & Heaven above my head | ||
+ | When a strange trance over my fancy grew | ||
+ | Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread | ||
+ | Was so transparent that the scene came through | ||
+ | As clear as when a veil of light is drawn | ||
+ | O'er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew | ||
+ | That I had felt the freshness of that dawn, | ||
+ | Bathed in the same cold dew my brow & hair | ||
+ | And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn | ||
+ | Under the self same bough, & heard as there | ||
+ | The birds, the fountains & the Ocean hold | ||
+ | Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air. | ||
+ | And then a Vision on my brain was rolled. | ||
+ | As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay | ||
+ | This was the tenour of my waking dream. | ||
+ | Methought I sate beside a public way | ||
+ | Thick strewn with summer dust, & a great stream | ||
+ | Of people there was hurrying to & fro | ||
+ | Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam, | ||
+ | All hastening onward, yet none seemed to know | ||
+ | Whither he went, or whence he came, or why | ||
+ | He made one of the multitude, yet so | ||
+ | Was borne amid the crowd as through the sky | ||
+ | One of the million leaves of summer' | ||
+ | Old age & youth, manhood & infancy, | ||
+ | Mixed in one mighty torrent did appear, | ||
+ | Some flying from the thing they feared & some | ||
+ | Seeking the object of another' | ||
+ | And others as with steps towards the tomb | ||
+ | Pored on the trodden worms that crawled beneath, | ||
+ | And others mournfully within the gloom | ||
+ | Of their own shadow walked, and called it death ... | ||
+ | And some fled from it as it were a ghost, | ||
+ | Half fainting in the affliction of vain breath. | ||
+ | But more with motions which each other crost | ||
+ | Pursued or shunned the shadows the clouds threw | ||
+ | Or birds within the noonday ether lost, | ||
+ | Upon that path where flowers never grew; | ||
+ | And weary with vain toil & faint for thirst | ||
+ | Heard not the fountains whose melodious dew | ||
+ | Out of their mossy cells forever burst | ||
+ | Nor felt the breeze which from the forest told | ||
+ | Of grassy paths, & wood lawns interspersed | ||
+ | With overarching elms & caverns cold, | ||
+ | And violet banks where sweet dreams brood, but they | ||
+ | Pursued their serious folly as of old .... | ||
+ | And as I gazed methought that in the way | ||
+ | The throng grew wilder, as the woods of June | ||
+ | When the South wind shakes the extinguished day.-- | ||
+ | And a cold glare, intenser than the noon | ||
+ | But icy cold, obscured with [[blank]] light | ||
+ | The Sun as he the stars. Like the young moon | ||
+ | When on the sunlit limits of the night | ||
+ | Her white shell trembles amid crimson air | ||
+ | And whilst the sleeping tempest gathers might | ||
+ | Doth, as a herald of its coming, bear | ||
+ | The ghost of her dead Mother, whose dim form | ||
+ | Bends in dark ether from her infant' | ||
+ | So came a chariot on the silent storm | ||
+ | Of its own rushing splendour, and a Shape | ||
+ | So sate within as one whom years deform | ||
+ | Beneath a dusky hood & double cape | ||
+ | Crouching within the shadow of a tomb, | ||
+ | And o'er what seemed the head, a cloud like crape, | ||
+ | Was bent a dun & faint etherial gloom | ||
+ | Tempering the light; upon the chariot' | ||
+ | A Janus-visaged Shadow did assume | ||
+ | The guidance of that wonder-winged team. | ||
+ | The Shapes which drew it in thick lightnings | ||
+ | Were lost: I heard alone on the air's soft stream | ||
+ | The music of their ever moving wings. | ||
+ | All the four faces of that charioteer | ||
+ | Had their eyes banded . . . little profit brings | ||
+ | Speed in the van & blindness in the rear, | ||
+ | Nor then avail the beams that quench the Sun | ||
+ | Or that his banded eyes could pierce the sphere | ||
+ | Of all that is, has been, or will be done.-- | ||
+ | So ill was the car guided, but it past | ||
+ | With solemn speed majestically on . . . | ||
+ | The crowd gave way, & I arose aghast, | ||
+ | Or seemed to rise, so mighty was the trance, | ||
+ | And saw like clouds upon the thunder blast | ||
+ | The million with fierce song and maniac dance | ||
+ | Raging around; such seemed the jubilee | ||
+ | As when to greet some conqueror' | ||
+ | Imperial Rome poured forth her living sea | ||
+ | From senatehouse & prison & theatre | ||
+ | When Freedom left those who upon the free | ||
+ | Had bound a yoke which soon they stooped to bear. | ||
+ | Nor wanted here the true similitude | ||
+ | Of a triumphal pageant, for where' | ||
+ | The chariot rolled a captive multitude | ||
+ | Was driven; althose who had grown old in power | ||
+ | Or misery, | ||
+ | By action or by suffering, and whose hour | ||
+ | Was drained to its last sand in weal or woe, | ||
+ | So that the trunk survived both fruit & flower; | ||
+ | All those whose fame or infamy must grow | ||
+ | Till the great winter lay the form & name | ||
+ | Of their own earth with them forever low, | ||
+ | All but the sacred few who could not tame | ||
+ | Their spirits to the Conqueror, but as soon | ||
+ | As they had touched the world with living flame | ||
+ | Fled back like eagles to their native noon, | ||
+ | Of those who put aside the diadem | ||
+ | Of earthly thrones or gems, till the last one | ||
+ | Were there;--for they of Athens & Jerusalem | ||
+ | Were neither mid the mighty captives seen | ||
+ | Nor mid the ribald crowd that followed them | ||
+ | Or fled before . . Now swift, fierce & obscene | ||
+ | The wild dance maddens in the van, & those | ||
+ | Who lead it, fleet as shadows on the green, | ||
+ | Outspeed the chariot & without repose | ||
+ | Mix with each other in tempestuous measure | ||
+ | To savage music .... Wilder as it grows, | ||
+ | They, tortured by the agonizing pleasure, | ||
+ | Convulsed & on the rapid whirlwinds spun | ||
+ | Of that fierce spirit, whose unholy leisure | ||
+ | Was soothed by mischief since the world begun, | ||
+ | Throw back their heads & loose their streaming hair, | ||
+ | And in their dance round her who dims the Sun | ||
+ | Maidens & youths fling their wild arms in air | ||
+ | As their feet twinkle; they recede, and now | ||
+ | Bending within each other' | ||
+ | Kindle invisibly; and as they glow | ||
+ | Like moths by light attracted & repelled, | ||
+ | Oft to new bright destruction come & go. | ||
+ | Till like two clouds into one vale impelled | ||
+ | That shake the mountains when their lightnings mingle | ||
+ | And die in rain,--the fiery band which held | ||
+ | Their natures, snaps . . . ere the shock cease to tingle | ||
+ | One falls and then another in the path | ||
+ | Senseless, nor is the desolation single, | ||
+ | Yet ere I can say where the chariot hath | ||
+ | Past over them; nor other trace I find | ||
+ | But as of foam after the Ocean' | ||
+ | Is spent upon the desert shore.--Behind, | ||
+ | Old men, and women foully disarrayed | ||
+ | Shake their grey hair in the insulting wind, | ||
+ | Limp in the dance & strain, with limbs decayed, | ||
+ | Seeking to reach the light which leaves them still | ||
+ | Farther behind & deeper in the shade. | ||
+ | But not the less with impotence of will | ||
+ | They wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose | ||
+ | Round them & round each other, and fulfill | ||
+ | Their work and to the dust whence they arose | ||
+ | Sink & corruption veils them as they lie | ||
+ | And frost in these performs what fire in those. | ||
+ | Struck to the heart by this sad pageantry, | ||
+ | Half to myself I said, "And what is this? | ||
+ | Whose shape is that within the car? & why"- | ||
+ | I would have added--" | ||
+ | But a voice answered . . " | ||
+ | (O Heaven have mercy on such wretchedness!) | ||
+ | That what I thought was an old root which grew | ||
+ | To strange distortion out of the hill side | ||
+ | Was indeed one of that deluded crew, | ||
+ | And that the grass which methought hung so wide | ||
+ | And white, was but his thin discoloured hair, | ||
+ | And that the holes it vainly sought to hide | ||
+ | Were or had been eyes.--" | ||
+ | To join the dance, which I had well forborne," | ||
+ | Said the grim Feature, of my thought aware, | ||
+ | "I will now tell that which to this deep scorn | ||
+ | Led me & my companions, and relate | ||
+ | The progress of the pageant since the morn; | ||
+ | "If thirst of knowledge doth not thus abate, | ||
+ | Follow it even to the night, but I | ||
+ | Am weary" . . . Then like one who with the weight | ||
+ | Of his own words is staggered, wearily | ||
+ | He paused, and ere he could resume, I cried, | ||
+ | "First who art thou?" . . . " | ||
+ | "I feared, loved, hated, suffered, did, & died, | ||
+ | And if the spark with which Heaven lit my spirit | ||
+ | Earth had with purer nutriment supplied | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Of what was once Rousseau--nor this disguise | ||
+ | Stained that within which still disdains to wear it.-- | ||
+ | "If I have been extinguished, | ||
+ | A thousand beacons from the spark I bore." | ||
+ | "And who are those chained to the car?" "The Wise, | ||
+ | "The great, the unforgotten: | ||
+ | Mitres & helms & crowns, or wreathes of light, | ||
+ | Signs of thought' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Could not repress the mutiny within, | ||
+ | And for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Upon his breast and hands crost on his chain?" | ||
+ | "The Child of a fierce hour; he sought to win | ||
+ | "The world, and lost all it did contain | ||
+ | Of greatness, in its hope destroyed; & more | ||
+ | Of fame & peace than Virtue' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Him on its eagle' | ||
+ | From which a thousand climbers have before | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Alter to see the great form pass away | ||
+ | Whose grasp had left the giant world so weak | ||
+ | That every pigmy kicked it as it lay-- | ||
+ | And much I grieved to think how power & will | ||
+ | In opposition rule our mortal day-- | ||
+ | And why God made irreconcilable | ||
+ | Good & the means of good; and for despair | ||
+ | I half disdained mine eye's desire to fill | ||
+ | With the spent vision of the times that were | ||
+ | And scarce have ceased to be . . . "Dost thou behold," | ||
+ | Said then my guide, "those spoilers spoiled, Voltaire, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Chained hoary anarch, demagogue & sage | ||
+ | Whose name the fresh world thinks already old-- | ||
+ | "For in the battle Life & they did wage | ||
+ | She remained conqueror--I was overcome | ||
+ | By my own heart alone, which neither age | ||
+ | "Nor tears nor infamy nor now the tomb | ||
+ | Could temper to its object." | ||
+ | I cried--" | ||
+ | "Is not so much more glorious than it was | ||
+ | That I desire to worship those who drew | ||
+ | New figures on its false & fragile glass | ||
+ | "As the old faded." | ||
+ | Rise on the bubble, paint them how you may; | ||
+ | We have but thrown, as those before us threw, | ||
+ | "Our shadows on it as it past away. | ||
+ | But mark, how chained to the triumphal chair | ||
+ | The mighty phantoms of an elder day-- | ||
+ | "All that is mortal of great Plato there | ||
+ | Expiates the joy & woe his master knew not; | ||
+ | That star that ruled his doom was far too fair-- | ||
+ | "And Life, where long that flower of Heaven grew not, | ||
+ | Conquered the heart by love which gold or pain | ||
+ | Or age or sloth or slavery could subdue not-- | ||
+ | "And near [[blank]] walk the [[blank]] twain, | ||
+ | The tutor & his pupil, whom Dominion | ||
+ | Followed as tame as vulture in a chain.-- | ||
+ | "The world was darkened beneath either pinion | ||
+ | Of him whom from the flock of conquerors | ||
+ | Fame singled as her thunderbearing minion; | ||
+ | "The other long outlived both woes & wars, | ||
+ | Throned in new thoughts of men, and still had kept | ||
+ | The jealous keys of truth' | ||
+ | "If Bacon' | ||
+ | Like lightning out of darkness; he compelled | ||
+ | The Proteus shape of Nature' | ||
+ | "To wake & to unbar the caves that held | ||
+ | The treasure of the secrets of its reign-- | ||
+ | See the great bards of old who inly quelled | ||
+ | "The passions which they sung, as by their strain | ||
+ | May well be known: their living melody | ||
+ | Tempers its own contagion to the vein | ||
+ | "Of those who are infected with it--I | ||
+ | Have suffered what I wrote, or viler pain!-- | ||
+ | "And so my words were seeds of misery-- | ||
+ | Even as the deeds of others." | ||
+ | I said--he pointed to a company | ||
+ | In which I recognized amid the heirs | ||
+ | Of Caesar' | ||
+ | The Anarchs old whose force & murderous snares | ||
+ | Had founded many a sceptre bearing line | ||
+ | And spread the plague of blood & gold abroad, | ||
+ | And Gregory & John and men divine | ||
+ | Who rose like shadows between Man & god | ||
+ | Till that eclipse, still hanging under Heaven, | ||
+ | Was worshipped by the world o'er which they strode | ||
+ | For the true Sun it quenched.--" | ||
+ | But to destroy," | ||
+ | Am one of those who have created, even | ||
+ | "If it be but a world of agony." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | How did thy course begin," | ||
+ | "Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow | ||
+ | Of people, & my heart of one sad thought.-- | ||
+ | Speak." | ||
+ | "And how & by what paths I have been brought | ||
+ | To this dread pass, methinks even thou mayst guess; | ||
+ | Why this should be my mind can compass not; | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | But follow thou, & from spectator turn | ||
+ | Actor or victim in this wretchedness, | ||
+ | "And what thou wouldst be taught I then may learn | ||
+ | From thee.--Now listen . . . In the April prime | ||
+ | When all the forest tops began to burn | ||
+ | "With kindling green, touched by the azure clime | ||
+ | Of the young year, I found myself asleep | ||
+ | Under a mountain which from unknown time | ||
+ | "Had yawned into a cavern high & deep, | ||
+ | And from it came a gentle rivulet | ||
+ | Whose water like clear air in its calm sweep | ||
+ | "Bent the soft grass & kept for ever wet | ||
+ | The stems of the sweet flowers, and filled the grove | ||
+ | With sound which all who hear must needs forget | ||
+ | "All pleasure & all pain, all hate & love, | ||
+ | Which they had known before that hour of rest: | ||
+ | A sleeping mother then would dream not of | ||
+ | "The only child who died upon her breast | ||
+ | At eventide, a king would mourn no more | ||
+ | The crown of which his brow was dispossest | ||
+ | "When the sun lingered o'er the Ocean floor | ||
+ | To gild his rival' | ||
+ | Thou wouldst forget thus vainly to deplore | ||
+ | "Ills, which if ills, can find no cure from thee, | ||
+ | The thought of which no other sleep will quell | ||
+ | Nor other music blot from memory-- | ||
+ | "So sweet & deep is the oblivious spell.-- | ||
+ | Whether my life had been before that sleep | ||
+ | The Heaven which I imagine, or a Hell | ||
+ | "Like this harsh world in which I wake to weep, | ||
+ | I know not. I arose & for a space | ||
+ | The scene of woods & waters seemed to keep, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Of light diviner than the common Sun | ||
+ | Sheds on the common Earth, but all the place | ||
+ | "Was filled with many sounds woven into one | ||
+ | Oblivious melody, confusing sense | ||
+ | Amid the gliding waves & shadows dun; | ||
+ | "And as I looked the bright omnipresence | ||
+ | Of morning through the orient cavern flowed, | ||
+ | And the Sun's image radiantly intense | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Like gold, and threaded all the forest maze | ||
+ | With winding paths of emerald fire--there stood | ||
+ | "Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze | ||
+ | Of his own glory, on the vibrating | ||
+ | Floor of the fountain, paved with flashing rays, | ||
+ | "A shape all light, which with one hand did fling | ||
+ | Dew on the earth, as if she were the Dawn | ||
+ | Whose invisible rain forever seemed to sing | ||
+ | "A silver music on the mossy lawn, | ||
+ | And still before her on the dusky grass | ||
+ | Iris her many coloured scarf had drawn.-- | ||
+ | "In her right hand she bore a crystal glass | ||
+ | Mantling with bright Nepenthe; | ||
+ | Fell from her as she moved under the mass | ||
+ | "Of the deep cavern, & with palms so tender | ||
+ | Their tread broke not the mirror of its billow, | ||
+ | Glided along the river, and did bend her | ||
+ | "Head under the dark boughs, till like a willow | ||
+ | Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream | ||
+ | That whispered with delight to be their pillow.-- | ||
+ | "As one enamoured is upborne in dream | ||
+ | O'er lily-paven lakes mid silver mist | ||
+ | To wondrous music, so this shape might seem | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The dancing foam, partly to glide along | ||
+ | The airs that roughened the moist amethyst, | ||
+ | "Or the slant morning beams that fell among | ||
+ | The trees, or the soft shadows of the trees; | ||
+ | And her feet ever to the ceaseless song | ||
+ | "Of leaves & winds & waves & birds & bees | ||
+ | And falling drops moved in a measure new | ||
+ | Yet sweet, as on the summer evening breeze | ||
+ | "Up from the lake a shape of golden dew | ||
+ | Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon, | ||
+ | Moves up the east, where eagle never flew.-- | ||
+ | "And still her feet, no less than the sweet tune | ||
+ | To which they moved, seemed as they moved, to blot | ||
+ | The thoughts of him who gazed on them, & soon | ||
+ | "All that was seemed as if it had been not, | ||
+ | As if the gazer' | ||
+ | Her feet like embers, & she, thought by thought, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | As Day upon the threshold of the east | ||
+ | Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath | ||
+ | "Of darkness reillumines even the least | ||
+ | Of heaven' | ||
+ | Making the night a dream; and ere she ceased | ||
+ | "To move, as one between desire and shame | ||
+ | Suspended, I said--' | ||
+ | Thou comest from the realm without a name, | ||
+ | " 'Into this valley of perpetual dream, | ||
+ | Shew whence I came, and where I am, and why-- | ||
+ | Pass not away upon the passing stream.' | ||
+ | " 'Arise and quench thy thirst,' | ||
+ | And as a shut lily, stricken by the wand | ||
+ | Of dewy morning' | ||
+ | "I rose; and, bending at her sweet command, | ||
+ | Touched with faint lips the cup she raised, | ||
+ | And suddenly my brain became as sand | ||
+ | "Where the first wave had more than half erased | ||
+ | The track of deer on desert Labrador, | ||
+ | Whilst the fierce wolf from which they fled amazed | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Until the second bursts--so on my sight | ||
+ | Burst a new Vision never seen before.-- | ||
+ | "And the fair shape waned in the coming light | ||
+ | As veil by veil the silent splendour drops | ||
+ | From Lucifer, amid the chrysolite | ||
+ | "Of sunrise ere it strike the mountain tops-- | ||
+ | And as the presence of that fairest planet | ||
+ | Although unseen is felt by one who hopes | ||
+ | "That his day's path may end as he began it | ||
+ | In that star's smile, whose light is like the scent | ||
+ | Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it, | ||
+ | "Or the soft note in which his dear lament | ||
+ | The Brescian shepherd breathes, or the caress | ||
+ | That turned his weary slumber to content.-- | ||
+ | "So knew I in that light' | ||
+ | The presence of that shape which on the stream | ||
+ | Moved, as I moved along the wilderness, | ||
+ | "More dimly than a day appearing dream, | ||
+ | The ghost of a forgotten form of sleep | ||
+ | A light from Heaven whose half extinguished beam | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Glimmers, forever sought, forever lost.-- | ||
+ | So did that shape its obscure tenour keep | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | But the new Vision, and its cold bright car, | ||
+ | With savage music, stunning music, crost | ||
+ | "The forest, and as if from some dread war | ||
+ | Triumphantly returning, the loud million | ||
+ | Fiercely extolled the fortune of her star.-- | ||
+ | "A moving arch of victory the vermilion | ||
+ | And green & azure plumes of Iris had | ||
+ | Built high over her wind-winged pavilion, | ||
+ | "And underneath aetherial glory clad | ||
+ | The wilderness, and far before her flew | ||
+ | The tempest of the splendour which forbade | ||
+ | Shadow to fall from leaf or stone;--the crew | ||
+ | Seemed in that light like atomies that dance | ||
+ | Within a sunbeam.--Some upon the new | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The grassy vesture of the desart, played, | ||
+ | Forgetful of the chariot' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Of the great mountain its light left them dim.-- | ||
+ | Others outspeeded it, and others made | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Round the high moon in a bright sea of air, | ||
+ | And more did follow, with exulting hymn, | ||
+ | "The chariot & the captives fettered there, | ||
+ | But all like bubbles on an eddying flood | ||
+ | Fell into the same track at last & were | ||
+ | "Borne onward.--I among the multitude | ||
+ | Was swept; me sweetest flowers delayed not long, | ||
+ | Me not the shadow nor the solitude, | ||
+ | "Me not the falling stream' | ||
+ | Me, not the phantom of that early form | ||
+ | Which moved upon its motion, | ||
+ | "The thickest billows of the living storm | ||
+ | I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime | ||
+ | Of that cold light, whose airs too soon deform.-- | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The opposing steep of that mysterious dell, | ||
+ | Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme | ||
+ | "Of him whom from the lowest depths of Hell | ||
+ | Through every Paradise & through all glory | ||
+ | Love led serene, & who returned to tell | ||
+ | "In words of hate & awe the wondrous story | ||
+ | How all things are transfigured, | ||
+ | For deaf as is a sea which wrath makes hoary | ||
+ | "The world can hear not the sweet notes that move | ||
+ | The sphere whose light is melody to lovers--- | ||
+ | A wonder worthy of his rhyme--the grove | ||
+ | "Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers, | ||
+ | The earth was grey with phantoms, & the air | ||
+ | Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers | ||
+ | "A flock of vampire-bats before the glare | ||
+ | Of the tropic sun, bring ere evening | ||
+ | Strange night upon some Indian isle,--thus were | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves, | ||
+ | Behind them, some like eaglets on the wing | ||
+ | "Were lost in the white blaze, others like elves | ||
+ | Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes | ||
+ | Upon the sunny streams & grassy shelves; | ||
+ | "And others sate chattering like restless apes | ||
+ | On vulgar paws and voluble like fire. | ||
+ | Some made a cradle of the ermined capes | ||
+ | "Of kingly mantles, some upon the tiar | ||
+ | Of pontiffs sate like vultures, others played | ||
+ | Within the crown which girt with empire | ||
+ | "A baby's or an idiot' | ||
+ | Their nests in it; the old anatomies | ||
+ | Sate hatching their bare brood under the shade | ||
+ | "Of demon wings, and laughed from their dead eyes | ||
+ | To reassume the delegated power | ||
+ | Arrayed in which these worms did monarchize | ||
+ | "Who make this earth their charnel.--Others more | ||
+ | Humble, like falcons sate upon the fist | ||
+ | Of common men, and round their heads did soar, | ||
+ | "Or like small gnats & flies, as thick as mist | ||
+ | On evening marshes, thronged about the brow | ||
+ | Of lawyer, statesman, priest & theorist, | ||
+ | "And others like discoloured flakes of snow | ||
+ | On fairest bosoms & the sunniest hair | ||
+ | Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow | ||
+ | "Which they extinguished; | ||
+ | A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained | ||
+ | In drops of sorrow.--I became aware | ||
+ | "Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained | ||
+ | The track in which we moved; after brief space | ||
+ | From every form the beauty slowly waned, | ||
+ | "From every firmest limb & fairest face | ||
+ | The strength & freshness fell like dust, & left | ||
+ | The action & the shape without the grace | ||
+ | "Of life; the marble brow of youth was cleft | ||
+ | With care, and in the eyes where once hope shone | ||
+ | Desire like a lioness bereft | ||
+ | "Of its last cub, glared ere it died; each one | ||
+ | Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly | ||
+ | These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown | ||
+ | "In Autumn evening from a popular tree-- | ||
+ | Each, like himself & like each other were, | ||
+ | At first, but soon distorted, seemed to be | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | And of this stuff the car's creative ray | ||
+ | Wrought all the busy phantoms that were there | ||
+ | "As the sun shapes the clouds--thus, | ||
+ | Mask after mask fell from the countenance | ||
+ | And form of all, and long before the day | ||
+ | "Was old, the joy which waked like Heaven' | ||
+ | The sleepers in the oblivious valley, died, | ||
+ | And some grew weary of the ghastly dance | ||
+ | "And fell, as I have fallen by the way side, | ||
+ | Those soonest from whose forms most shadows past | ||
+ | And least of strength & beauty did abide." | ||
+ | "Then, what is Life?" I said . . . the cripple cast | ||
+ | His eye upon the car which now had rolled | ||
+ | Onward, as if that look must be the last, | ||
+ | And answered .... "Happy those for whom the fold | ||
+ | Of ... | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++14 To The Men Of England| | ++++14 To The Men Of England| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Men of England, wherefore plough | ||
+ | For the lords who lay ye low? | ||
+ | Wherefore weave with toil and care | ||
+ | The rich robes your tyrants wear? | ||
+ | Wherefore feed and clothe and save, | ||
+ | From the cradle to the grave, | ||
+ | Those ungrateful drones who would | ||
+ | Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Wherefore, Bees of England, forge | ||
+ | Many a weapon, chain, and scourge, | ||
+ | That these stingless drones may spoil | ||
+ | The forced produce of your toil? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Have ye leisure, comfort, calm, | ||
+ | Shelter, food, love's gentle balm? | ||
+ | Or what is it ye buy so dear | ||
+ | With your pain and with your fear? | ||
+ | |||
+ | The seed ye sow another reaps; | ||
+ | The wealth ye find another keeps; | ||
+ | The robes ye weave another wears; | ||
+ | The arms ye forge another bears. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Sow seed, -- but let no tyrant reap; | ||
+ | Find wealth, -- let no imposter heap; | ||
+ | Weave robes, -- let not the idle wear; | ||
+ | Forge arms, in your defence to bear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells; | ||
+ | In halls ye deck another dwells. | ||
+ | Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see | ||
+ | The steel ye tempered glance on ye. | ||
+ | |||
+ | With plough and spade and hoe and loom, | ||
+ | Trace your grave, and build your tomb, | ||
+ | And weave your winding-sheet, | ||
+ | England be your sepulchre! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++15 Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live| | ++++15 Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Lift not the painted veil which those who live | ||
+ | Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there, | ||
+ | And it but mimic all we would believe | ||
+ | With colours idly spread, | ||
+ | And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave | ||
+ | Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear. | ||
+ | I knew one who had lifted it--he sought, | ||
+ | For his lost heart was tender, things to love, | ||
+ | But found them not, alas! nor was there aught | ||
+ | The world contains, the which he could approve. | ||
+ | Through the unheeding many he did move, | ||
+ | A splendour among shadows, a bright blot | ||
+ | Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove | ||
+ | For truth, and like the Preacher found it not | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++16 To Wordsworth| | ++++16 To Wordsworth| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know | ||
+ | That things depart which never may return: | ||
+ | Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow, | ||
+ | Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn. | ||
+ | These common woes I feel. One loss is mine | ||
+ | Which thou too feel' | ||
+ | Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine | ||
+ | On some frail bark in winter' | ||
+ | Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood | ||
+ | Above the blind and battling multitude: | ||
+ | In honored poverty thy voice did weave | ||
+ | Songs consecrate to truth and liberty, | ||
+ | Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve, | ||
+ | Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++17 Bereavement| | ++++17 Bereavement| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner | ||
+ | As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, | ||
+ | As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, | ||
+ | And drops to perfection' | ||
+ | When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming, | ||
+ | When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming, | ||
+ | Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming, | ||
+ | And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear. | ||
+ | Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave, | ||
+ | Or summer succeed to the winter of death? | ||
+ | Rest awhle, hapless victim! and Heaven will save | ||
+ | The spirit that hath faded away with the breath. | ||
+ | Eternity points, in its amaranth bower | ||
+ | Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lour, | ||
+ | Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower, | ||
+ | When woe fades away like the mist of the heath. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++18 Mont Blanc| | ++++18 Mont Blanc| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | (Lines written in the Vale of Chamouni) | ||
+ | |||
+ | 1 | ||
+ | |||
+ | The everlasting universe of things | ||
+ | Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, | ||
+ | Now dark - now glittering - now reflecting gloom - | ||
+ | Now lending splendor, 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, amon 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. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 2 | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus thou, Ravine of Arve - dark, deep Ravine- | ||
+ | Thou many-colored, | ||
+ | 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 odors, and their mighty swinging | ||
+ | To hear - an old and solemn harmony; | ||
+ | Thine earthly rainbows stretched across the sweep | ||
+ | Of the ethereal waterfall, whose veil | ||
+ | Robes some unsculptured 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! | ||
+ | |||
+ | 3 | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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 unfurled | ||
+ | The veil of life and death? or do I lie | ||
+ | In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep | ||
+ | Spread far and round and inaccessibly | ||
+ | Its circles? For the very spirit fails, | ||
+ | Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep | ||
+ | That vanishes amon the viewless gales! | ||
+ | Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, | ||
+ | Mont Blanc appears, | ||
+ | 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 heaped around! rude, bare, and high, | ||
+ | Ghastly, and scarred, and riven. -Is this the scene | ||
+ | Where the old Earthquake-demon 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 reconciled; | ||
+ | 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. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 4 | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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 tranquility, | ||
+ | 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 piled: 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 destined path, or in the mangled soil | ||
+ | Branchless and shattered stand; the rocks, drawn down | ||
+ | From yon remotest waste, have overthrown | ||
+ | The limits of the dead and living world, | ||
+ | Never to be reclaimed. 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' | ||
+ | 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 vapors to the circling air. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 5 | ||
+ | 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 vapor 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? | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++19 A Lament| | ++++19 A Lament| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | O World! O Life! O Time! | ||
+ | On whose last steps I climb, | ||
+ | Trembling at that where I had stood before; | ||
+ | When will return the glory of your prime? | ||
+ | No more -Oh, never more! | ||
+ | Out of the day and night | ||
+ | A joy has taken flight: | ||
+ | Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar | ||
+ | Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight | ||
+ | No more -Oh, never more! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++20 English In 1819| | ++++20 English In 1819| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,-- | ||
+ | Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who | ||
+ | Through public scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,-- | ||
+ | Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, | ||
+ | But leech-like to their fainting country cling, | ||
+ | Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,-- | ||
+ | A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,-- | ||
+ | An army, which liberticide and prey | ||
+ | Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,-- | ||
+ | Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; | ||
+ | Religion Christless, Godless--a book sealed; | ||
+ | A Senate, Time's worst statute unrepealed, | ||
+ | Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may | ||
+ | Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++21 The Invitation| | ++++21 The Invitation| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Best and brightest, come away, | ||
+ | Fairer far than this fair day, | ||
+ | Which, like thee, to those in sorrow | ||
+ | Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow | ||
+ | To the rough year just awake | ||
+ | In its cradle on the brake. | ||
+ | The brightest hour of unborn Spring | ||
+ | Through the Winter wandering, | ||
+ | Found, it seems, the halcyon morn | ||
+ | To hoar February born; | ||
+ | Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, | ||
+ | It kissed the forehead of the earth, | ||
+ | And smiled upon the silent sea, | ||
+ | And bade the frozen streams be free, | ||
+ | And waked to music all their fountains, | ||
+ | And breathed upon the frozen mountains, | ||
+ | And like a prophetess of May | ||
+ | Strewed flowers upon the barren way, | ||
+ | Making the wintry world appear | ||
+ | Like one on whom thou smilest, dear. | ||
+ | Away, away, from men and towns, | ||
+ | To the wild wood and the downs - | ||
+ | To the silent wilderness | ||
+ | Where the soul need not repress | ||
+ | Its music, lest it should not find | ||
+ | An echo in another' | ||
+ | While the touch of Nature' | ||
+ | Harmonizes heart to heart. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Radiant Sister of the Day | ||
+ | Awake! arise! and come away! | ||
+ | To the wild woods and the plains, | ||
+ | To the pools where winter rains | ||
+ | Image all their roof of leaves, | ||
+ | Where the pine its garland weaves | ||
+ | Of sapless green, and ivy dun, | ||
+ | Round stems that never kiss the sun, | ||
+ | Where the lawns and pastures be | ||
+ | And the sandhills of the sea, | ||
+ | Where the melting hoar-frost wets | ||
+ | The daisy-star that never sets, | ||
+ | And wind-flowers and violets | ||
+ | Which yet join not scent to hue | ||
+ | Crown the pale year weak and new; | ||
+ | When the night is left behind | ||
+ | In the deep east, dim and blind, | ||
+ | And the blue noon is over us, | ||
+ | And the multitudinous | ||
+ | Billows murmur at our feet, | ||
+ | Where the earth and ocean meet, | ||
+ | And all things seem only one | ||
+ | In the universal Sun. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++22 An Exhortation| | ++++22 An Exhortation| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Chameleons feed on light and air: | ||
+ | Poets' food is love and fame: | ||
+ | If in this wide world of care | ||
+ | Poets could but find the same | ||
+ | With as little toil as they, | ||
+ | Would they ever change their hue | ||
+ | As the light chameleons do, | ||
+ | Suiting it to every ray | ||
+ | Twenty times a day? | ||
+ | Poets are on this cold earth, | ||
+ | As chameleons might be, | ||
+ | Hidden from their early birth | ||
+ | In a cave beneath the sea; | ||
+ | Where light is, chameleons change: | ||
+ | Where love is not, poets do: | ||
+ | Fame is love disguised: if few | ||
+ | Find either, never think it strange | ||
+ | That poets range. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yet dare not stain with wealth or power | ||
+ | A poet's free and heavenly mind: | ||
+ | If bright chameleons should devour | ||
+ | Any food but beams and wind, | ||
+ | They would grow as earthly soon | ||
+ | As their brother lizards are. | ||
+ | Children of a sunnier star, | ||
+ | Spirits from beyond the moon, | ||
+ | O, refuse the boon! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++23 Time| | ++++23 Time| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Chameleons feed on light and air: | ||
+ | Poets' food is love and fame: | ||
+ | If in this wide world of care | ||
+ | Poets could but find the same | ||
+ | With as little toil as they, | ||
+ | Would they ever change their hue | ||
+ | As the light chameleons do, | ||
+ | Suiting it to every ray | ||
+ | Twenty times a day? | ||
+ | Poets are on this cold earth, | ||
+ | As chameleons might be, | ||
+ | Hidden from their early birth | ||
+ | In a cave beneath the sea; | ||
+ | Where light is, chameleons change: | ||
+ | Where love is not, poets do: | ||
+ | Fame is love disguised: if few | ||
+ | Find either, never think it strange | ||
+ | That poets range. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yet dare not stain with wealth or power | ||
+ | A poet's free and heavenly mind: | ||
+ | If bright chameleons should devour | ||
+ | Any food but beams and wind, | ||
+ | They would grow as earthly soon | ||
+ | As their brother lizards are. | ||
+ | Children of a sunnier star, | ||
+ | Spirits from beyond the moon, | ||
+ | O, refuse the boon! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++24 When The Lamp Is Shattered| | ++++24 When The Lamp Is Shattered| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | When the lamp is shattered | ||
+ | The light in the dust lies dead -- | ||
+ | When the cloud is scattered, | ||
+ | The rainbow' | ||
+ | When the lute is broken, | ||
+ | Sweet tones are remembered not; | ||
+ | When the lips have spoken, | ||
+ | Loved accents are soon forgot. | ||
+ | As music and splendour | ||
+ | Survive not the lamp and the lute, | ||
+ | The heart' | ||
+ | No song when the spirit is mute -- | ||
+ | No song but sad dirges, | ||
+ | Like the wind through a ruined cell, | ||
+ | Or the mournful surges | ||
+ | That ring the dead seaman' | ||
+ | |||
+ | When hearts have once mingled, | ||
+ | Love first leaves the well-built nest; | ||
+ | The weak one is singled | ||
+ | To endure what it once possessed. | ||
+ | O Love! who bewailest | ||
+ | The frailty of all things here, | ||
+ | Why choose you the frailest | ||
+ | For your cradle, your home, and your bier? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Its passions will rock thee, | ||
+ | As the storms rock the ravens on high; | ||
+ | Bright reason will mock thee, | ||
+ | Like the sun from a wintry sky. | ||
+ | From thy nest every rafter | ||
+ | Will rot, and thine eagle home | ||
+ | Leave thee naked to laughter, | ||
+ | When leaves fall and cold winds come. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++25 The Indian Serenade| | ++++25 The Indian Serenade| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | I arise from dreams of thee | ||
+ | In the first sweet sleep of night, | ||
+ | When the winds are breathing low, | ||
+ | And the stars are shining bright. | ||
+ | I arise from dreams of thee, | ||
+ | And a spirit in my feet | ||
+ | Has led me -who knows how? | ||
+ | To thy chamber-window, | ||
+ | The wandering airs they faint | ||
+ | On the dark, the silent stream - | ||
+ | The champak odours fail | ||
+ | Like sweet thoughts in a dream; | ||
+ | The nightingale' | ||
+ | It dies upon her heart, | ||
+ | As I must die on thine, | ||
+ | O beloved as thou art! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Oh lift me from the grass! | ||
+ | I die! I faint! I fail! | ||
+ | Let thy love in kisses rain | ||
+ | On my lips and eyelids pale. | ||
+ | My cheek is cold and white, alas! | ||
+ | My heart beats loud and fast; | ||
+ | Oh press it close to thine again, | ||
+ | Where it will break at last! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++26 On Death| | ++++26 On Death| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Which the meteor beam of a starless night | ||
+ | Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle, | ||
+ | Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light, | ||
+ | Is the flame of life so fickle and wan | ||
+ | That flits round our steps till their strength is gone. | ||
+ | O man! hold thee on in courage of soul | ||
+ | Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way, | ||
+ | And the billows of clouds that around thee roll | ||
+ | Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day, | ||
+ | Where hell and heaven shall leave thee free | ||
+ | To the universe of destiny. | ||
+ | |||
+ | This world is the nurse of all we know, | ||
+ | This world is the mother of all we feel, | ||
+ | And the coming of death is a fearful blow | ||
+ | To a brain unencompass' | ||
+ | When all that we know, or feel, or see, | ||
+ | Shall pass like an unreal mystery. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The secret things of the grave are there, | ||
+ | Where all but this frame must surely be, | ||
+ | Though the fine-wrought eye and the wondrous ear | ||
+ | No longer will live, to hear or to see | ||
+ | All that is great and all that is strange | ||
+ | In the boundless realm of unending change. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death? | ||
+ | Who lifteth the veil of what is to come? | ||
+ | Who painteth the shadows that are beneath | ||
+ | The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb? | ||
+ | Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be | ||
+ | With the fears and the love for that which we see? | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++27 A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love| | ++++27 A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | A widow bird sate mourning for her Love | ||
+ | Upon a wintry bough; | ||
+ | The frozen wind crept on above, | ||
+ | The freezing stream below. | ||
+ | There was no leaf upon the forest bare, | ||
+ | No flower upon the ground, | ||
+ | And little motion in the air | ||
+ | Except the mill-wheel' | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++28 Feelings Of A Republican On The Fall Of Bonaparte| | ++++28 Feelings Of A Republican On The Fall Of Bonaparte| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | To think that a most unambitious slave, | ||
+ | Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave | ||
+ | Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne | ||
+ | Where it had stood even now: thou didst prefer | ||
+ | A frail and bloody pomp which Time has swept | ||
+ | In fragments towards Oblivion. Massacre, | ||
+ | For this I prayed, would on thy sleep have crept, | ||
+ | Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear, and Lust, | ||
+ | And stifled thee, their minister. I know | ||
+ | Too late, since thou and France are in the dust, | ||
+ | That Virtue owns a more eternal foe | ||
+ | Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime, | ||
+ | And bloody Faith the foulest birth of Time.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++29 To Night| | ++++29 To 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 sighed for thee; | ||
+ | When light rode high, and the dew was gone, | ||
+ | And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, | ||
+ | And the weary Day turned to his rest, | ||
+ | Lingering like an unloved guest, | ||
+ | I sighed for thee. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thy brother Death came, and cried | ||
+ | `Wouldst thou me?' | ||
+ | Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, | ||
+ | Murmured 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!</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++30 Asia: | ++++30 Asia: | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float | ||
+ | Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; | ||
+ | And thine doth like an angel sit | ||
+ | Beside a helm conducting it, | ||
+ | Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. | ||
+ | It seems to float ever, for ever, | ||
+ | Upon that many-winding river, | ||
+ | Between mountains, woods, abysses, | ||
+ | A paradise of wildernesses! | ||
+ | Till, like one in slumber bound, | ||
+ | Borne to the ocean, I float down, around, | ||
+ | Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound: | ||
+ | Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions | ||
+ | In music' | ||
+ | Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven. | ||
+ | And we sail on, away, afar, | ||
+ | Without a course, without a star, | ||
+ | But, by the instinct of sweet music driven; | ||
+ | Till through Elysian garden islets | ||
+ | By thee, most beautiful of pilots, | ||
+ | Where never mortal pinnace glided, | ||
+ | The boat of my desire is guided: | ||
+ | Realms where the air we breathe is love, | ||
+ | Which in the winds and on the waves doth move, | ||
+ | Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above. | ||
+ | |||
+ | We have past Age's icy caves, | ||
+ | And Manhood' | ||
+ | And Youth' | ||
+ | Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee | ||
+ | Of shadow-peopled Infancy, | ||
+ | Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day; | ||
+ | A paradise of vaulted bowers, | ||
+ | Lit by downward-gazing flowers, | ||
+ | And watery paths that wind between | ||
+ | Wildernesses calm and green, | ||
+ | Peopled by shapes too bright to see, | ||
+ | And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee; | ||
+ | Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously! | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++31 To Jane| | ++++31 To Jane| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | And the fair moon was rising among them, | ||
+ | Dear Jane. | ||
+ | The guitar was tinkling, | ||
+ | But the notes were not sweet till you sung them | ||
+ | Again. | ||
+ | As the moon's soft splendour | ||
+ | O'er the faint cold starlight of Heaven | ||
+ | Is thrown, | ||
+ | So your voice most tender | ||
+ | To the strings without soul had then given | ||
+ | Its own. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The stars will awaken, | ||
+ | Though the moon sleep a full hour later | ||
+ | To-night; | ||
+ | No leaf will be shaken | ||
+ | Whilst the dews of your melody scatter | ||
+ | Delight. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Though the sound overpowers, | ||
+ | Sing again, with your dear voice revealing | ||
+ | A tone | ||
+ | Of some world far from ours, | ||
+ | Where music and moonlight and feeling | ||
+ | Are one.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++32 Adonais| | ++++32 Adonais| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | O, 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, pierced 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 enamoured breath, | ||
+ | Rekindled all the fading melodies | ||
+ | With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, | ||
+ | He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O, 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' | ||
+ | The priest, the slave, and the liberticide | ||
+ | Trampled and mocked 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 dared to climb; | ||
+ | And happier they their happiness who knew, | ||
+ | Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time | ||
+ | In which suns perished; 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 perished - | ||
+ | The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, | ||
+ | Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished, | ||
+ | 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 nipped 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. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O, 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 loosened from his brain." | ||
+ | Lost Angel of a ruined 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 | ||
+ | Washed his light limbs as if embalming them; | ||
+ | Another clipped 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 | ||
+ | Quenched its caress upon his icy lips; | ||
+ | And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath | ||
+ | Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, | ||
+ | It flushed through his pale limbs, and passed to its eclipse. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And others came... Desires and Adorations, | ||
+ | Winged Persuasions and veiled 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 loved, 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, | ||
+ | Dimmed the aereal eyes that kindle day; | ||
+ | Afar the melancholy thunder moaned, | ||
+ | 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 remembered lay, | ||
+ | And will no more reply to winds or fountains, | ||
+ | Or amorous birds perched on the young green spray, | ||
+ | Or herdsman' | ||
+ | Since she can mimic not his lips, more dear | ||
+ | Than those for whose disdain she pined 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 waked 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 turned 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 pierced thy innocent breast, | ||
+ | And scared 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 Season' | ||
+ | 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 unimprisoned flames, out of their trance awake. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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 dawned on Chaos; in its stream immersed, | ||
+ | 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, touched by this spirit tender, | ||
+ | Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath; | ||
+ | Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour | ||
+ | Is changed 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 consumed before the sheath | ||
+ | By sightless lightning? -the intense atom glows | ||
+ | A moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Alas! that all we loved 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 massed 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 watched Urania' | ||
+ | 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 | ||
+ | Our 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 roused, so rapt Urania; | ||
+ | So saddened round her like an atmosphere | ||
+ | Of stormy mist; so swept her on her way | ||
+ | Even to the mournful place where Adonais lay. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Our 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, | ||
+ | Paved with eternal flowers that undeserving way. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In the death-chamber for a moment Death, | ||
+ | Shamed by the presence of that living Might, | ||
+ | Blushed to annihilation, | ||
+ | Revisited those lips, and Life's pale light | ||
+ | Flashed 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 | ||
+ | Roused Death: Death rose and smiled, and met her vain caress. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "' | ||
+ | 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 chained 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 unpastured dragon in his den? | ||
+ | Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then | ||
+ | Wisdom the mirrored shield, or scorn the spear? | ||
+ | Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when | ||
+ | Thy spirit should have filled 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 smiled! -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 gathered 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 dimmed or shared its light | ||
+ | Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus ceased 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 Irene 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 gazed on Nature' | ||
+ | Actaeon-like, | ||
+ | With feeble steps o'er the world' | ||
+ | And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, | ||
+ | Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey. | ||
+ | |||
+ | A pardlike Spirit beautiful and swift - | ||
+ | A Love in desolation masked; -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 topped 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 grasped it; of that crew | ||
+ | He came the last, neglected and apart; | ||
+ | A herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter' | ||
+ | |||
+ | All stood aloof, and at his partial moan | ||
+ | Smiled 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 scanned | ||
+ | The Stranger' | ||
+ | He answered not, but with a sudden hand | ||
+ | Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow, | ||
+ | Which was like Cain's or Christ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | What softer voice is hushed 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, soothed, loved, honoured the departed one, | ||
+ | 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 remembered 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' | ||
+ | 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 awakened 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' | ||
+ | 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 outsoared 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' | ||
+ | He is secure, and now can never mourn | ||
+ | A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain; | ||
+ | Nor, when the spirit' | ||
+ | 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 abandoned 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' | ||
+ | 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 Heavens' | ||
+ | |||
+ | The splendours of the firmament of time | ||
+ | May be eclipsed, but are extinguished 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 unfulfilled 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 lived and loved | ||
+ | Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot, | ||
+ | Arose; and Lucan, by his death approved: | ||
+ | Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reproved. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And many more, whose names on Earth are dark, | ||
+ | But whose transmitted effluence cannot die | ||
+ | So long as fire outlives the parent spark, | ||
+ | Rose, robed 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 an 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 lured 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 gathered to the kings of thought | ||
+ | Who waged 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 shattered mountains rise, | ||
+ | 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 grey 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 planned | ||
+ | This refuge for his memory, doth stand | ||
+ | Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath, | ||
+ | A field is spread, on which a newer band | ||
+ | Have pitched in Heaven' | ||
+ | Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet | ||
+ | To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned | ||
+ | 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-coloured 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' | ||
+ | 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 passed 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 invoked in song | ||
+ | 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.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++33 One Word Is Too Often Profaned| | ++++33 One Word Is Too Often Profaned| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | For me to profane it; | ||
+ | One feeling too falsely disdained | ||
+ | For thee to disdain it; | ||
+ | One hope is too like despair | ||
+ | For prudence to smother; | ||
+ | And pity from thee more dear | ||
+ | Than that from another. | ||
+ | I can give not what men call love; | ||
+ | But wilt thou accept not | ||
+ | The worship the heart lifts above | ||
+ | And the heavens reject not, -- | ||
+ | The desire of the moth for the star, | ||
+ | Of the night for the morrow, | ||
+ | The devotion to something afar | ||
+ | From the sphere of our sorrow?</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++34 Prometheus Unbound: Act I (excerpt)| | ++++34 Prometheus Unbound: Act I (excerpt)| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Prometheus. | ||
+ | Monarch of Gods and Dæmons, and all Spirits | ||
+ | But One, who throng those bright and rolling worlds | ||
+ | Which Thou and I alone of living things | ||
+ | Behold with sleepless eyes! regard this Earth | ||
+ | Made multitudinous with thy slaves, whom thou | ||
+ | Requitest for knee-worship, | ||
+ | And toil, and hecatombs of broken hearts, | ||
+ | With fear and self-contempt and barren hope. | ||
+ | Whilst me, who am thy foe, eyeless in hate, | ||
+ | Hast thou made reign and triumph, to thy scorn, | ||
+ | O'er mine own misery and thy vain revenge. | ||
+ | Three thousand years of sleep-unsheltered hours, | ||
+ | And moments aye divided by keen pangs | ||
+ | Till they seemed years, torture and solitude, | ||
+ | Scorn and despair, | ||
+ | More glorious far than that which thou surveyest | ||
+ | From thine unenvied throne, O Mighty God! | ||
+ | Almighty, had I deigned to share the shame | ||
+ | Of thine ill tyranny, and hung not here | ||
+ | Nailed to this wall of eagle-baffling mountain, | ||
+ | Black, wintry, dead, unmeasured; without herb, | ||
+ | Insect, or beast, or shape or sound of life. | ||
+ | Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever! | ||
+ | No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure. | ||
+ | I ask the Earth, have not the mountains felt? | ||
+ | I ask yon Heaven, the all-beholding Sun, | ||
+ | Has it not seen? The Sea, in storm or calm, | ||
+ | Heaven' | ||
+ | Have its deaf waves not heard my agony? | ||
+ | Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever! | ||
+ | |||
+ | The crawling glaciers pierce me with the spears | ||
+ | Of their moon-freezing crystals, the bright chains | ||
+ | Eat with their burning cold into my bones. | ||
+ | Heaven' | ||
+ | His beak in poison not his own, tears up | ||
+ | My heart; and shapeless sights come wandering by, | ||
+ | The ghastly people of the realm of dream, | ||
+ | Mocking me: and the Earthquake-fiends are charged | ||
+ | To wrench the rivets from my quivering wounds | ||
+ | When the rocks split and close again behind: | ||
+ | While from their loud abysses howling throng | ||
+ | The genii of the storm, urging the rage | ||
+ | Of whirlwind, and afflict me with keen hail. | ||
+ | And yet to me welcome is day and night, | ||
+ | Whether one breaks the hoar frost of the morn, | ||
+ | Or starry, dim, and slow, the other climbs | ||
+ | The leaden-coloured east; for then they lead | ||
+ | The wingless, crawling hours, one among whom | ||
+ | --As some dark Priest hales the reluctant victim-- | ||
+ | Shall drag thee, cruel King, to kiss the blood | ||
+ | From these pale feet, which then might trample thee | ||
+ | If they disdained not such a prostrate slave. | ||
+ | Disdain! Ah no! I pity thee. What ruin | ||
+ | Will hunt thee undefended through wide Heaven! | ||
+ | How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror, | ||
+ | Gape like a hell within! I speak in grief, | ||
+ | Not exultation, for I hate no more, | ||
+ | As then ere misery made me wise. The curse | ||
+ | Once breathed on thee I would recall. Ye Mountains, | ||
+ | Whose many-voicèd Echoes, through the mist | ||
+ | Of cataracts, flung the thunder of that spell! | ||
+ | Ye icy Springs, stagnant with wrinkling frost, | ||
+ | Which vibrated to hear me, and then crept | ||
+ | Shuddering through India! Thou serenest Air, | ||
+ | Through which the Sun walks burning without beams! | ||
+ | And ye swift Whirlwinds, who on poisèd wings | ||
+ | Hung mute and moveless o'er yon hushed abyss, | ||
+ | As thunder, louder than your own, made rock | ||
+ | The orbèd world! If then my words had power, | ||
+ | Though I am changed so that aught evil wish | ||
+ | Is dead within; although no memory be | ||
+ | Of what is hate, let them not lose it now! | ||
+ | What was that curse? for ye all heard me speak.... | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++35 Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples| | ++++35 Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | The waves are dancing fast and bright, | ||
+ | Blue isles and snowy mountains wear | ||
+ | The purple noon's transparent might, | ||
+ | The breath of the moist air is light, | ||
+ | Around its unexpanded buds; | ||
+ | Like many a voice of one delight, | ||
+ | The winds', | ||
+ | The City's voice itself, is soft like Solitude' | ||
+ | I see the Deep's untrampled floor | ||
+ | With green and purple seaweeds strown; | ||
+ | I see the waves upon the shore, | ||
+ | Like light dissolved in star-showers, | ||
+ | I sit upon the sands alone, -- | ||
+ | The lightning of the noontide ocean | ||
+ | Is flashing round me, and a tone | ||
+ | Arises from its measured motion, | ||
+ | How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Alas! I have nor hope nor health, | ||
+ | Nor peace within nor calm around, | ||
+ | Nor that content surpassing wealth | ||
+ | The sage in meditation found, | ||
+ | And walked with inward glory crowned -- | ||
+ | Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. | ||
+ | Others I see whom these surround -- | ||
+ | Smiling they live, and call life pleasure; -- | ||
+ | To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Some might lament that I were cold, | ||
+ | As I, when this sweet day is done, | ||
+ | Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, | ||
+ | Insults with this untimely moan; | ||
+ | They might lament -- for I am one | ||
+ | Whom men love not, -- and yet regret, | ||
+ | Unlike this day which, when the sun | ||
+ | Shall on its stainless glory set, | ||
+ | Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yet now despair itself is mild, | ||
+ | Even as the winds and waters are; | ||
+ | I could lie down like a tired child, | ||
+ | And weep away the life of care | ||
+ | Which I have borne and yet must bear, | ||
+ | Till death like sleep might steal on me, | ||
+ | And I might feel in the warm air | ||
+ | My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea | ||
+ | Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++36 The Waning Moon| | ++++36 The Waning Moon| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil, | ||
+ | Out of her chamber, led by the insane | ||
+ | And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, | ||
+ | The moon arose up in the murky east, | ||
+ | A white and shapeless mass.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++37 Autumn: | ++++37 Autumn: | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, | ||
+ | And the Year | ||
+ | On the earth is her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, | ||
+ | Is lying. | ||
+ | Come, Months, come away, | ||
+ | From November to May, | ||
+ | In your saddest array; | ||
+ | Follow the bier | ||
+ | Of the dead cold Year, | ||
+ | And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre. | ||
+ | The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling, | ||
+ | The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling | ||
+ | For the Year; | ||
+ | The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone | ||
+ | To his dwelling. | ||
+ | Come, Months, come away; | ||
+ | Put on white, black and gray; | ||
+ | Let your light sisters play-- | ||
+ | Ye, follow the bier | ||
+ | Of the dead cold Year, | ||
+ | And make her grave green with tear on tear.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++38 The Question| | ++++38 The Question| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, | ||
+ | And gentle odours led my steps astray, | ||
+ | Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring | ||
+ | Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay | ||
+ | Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling | ||
+ | Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, | ||
+ | But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. | ||
+ | There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, | ||
+ | Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, | ||
+ | The constellated flower that never sets; | ||
+ | Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth | ||
+ | The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets-- | ||
+ | Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth-- | ||
+ | Its mother' | ||
+ | When the low wind, its playmate' | ||
+ | |||
+ | And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, | ||
+ | Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may, | ||
+ | And cherry-blossoms, | ||
+ | Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day; | ||
+ | And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, | ||
+ | With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; | ||
+ | And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, | ||
+ | Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And nearer to the river' | ||
+ | There grew broad flag-flowers, | ||
+ | And starry river buds among the sedge, | ||
+ | And floating water-lilies, | ||
+ | Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge | ||
+ | With moonlight beams of their own watery light; | ||
+ | And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green | ||
+ | As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Methought that of these visionary flowers | ||
+ | I made a nosegay, bound in such a way | ||
+ | That the same hues, which in their natural bowers | ||
+ | Were mingled or opposed, the like array | ||
+ | Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours | ||
+ | Within my hand,--and then, elate and gay, | ||
+ | I hastened to the spot whence I had come, | ||
+ | That I might there present it!--Oh! to whom? | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++39 On A Dead Violet| | ++++39 On A Dead Violet| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Which like thy kisses breathed on me; | ||
+ | The color from the flower is flown | ||
+ | Which glowed of thee and only thee! | ||
+ | A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form, | ||
+ | It lies on my abandoned breast; | ||
+ | And mocks the heart, which yet is warm, | ||
+ | With cold and silent rest. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I weep--my tears revive it not; | ||
+ | I sigh--it breathes no more on me: | ||
+ | Its mute and uncomplaining lot | ||
+ | Is such as mine should be.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++40 The Two Spirits: An Allegory| | ++++40 The Two Spirits: An Allegory| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | O thou, who plum'd with strong desire | ||
+ | Wouldst float above the earth, beware! | ||
+ | A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire-- | ||
+ | Night is coming! | ||
+ | Bright are the regions of the air, | ||
+ | And among the winds and beams | ||
+ | It were delight to wander there-- | ||
+ | Night is coming!SECOND SPIRIT | ||
+ | The deathless stars are bright above; | ||
+ | If I would cross the shade of night, | ||
+ | Within my heart is the lamp of love, | ||
+ | And that is day! | ||
+ | And the moon will smile with gentle light | ||
+ | On my golden plumes where' | ||
+ | The meteors will linger round my flight, | ||
+ | And make night day.FIRST SPIRIT | ||
+ | But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken | ||
+ | Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain; | ||
+ | See, the bounds of the air are shaken-- | ||
+ | Night is coming! | ||
+ | The red swift clouds of the hurricane | ||
+ | Yon declining sun have overtaken, | ||
+ | The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain-- | ||
+ | Night is coming!SECOND SPIRIT | ||
+ | |||
+ | I see the light, and I hear the sound; | ||
+ | I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark, | ||
+ | With the calm within and the light around | ||
+ | Which makes night day: | ||
+ | And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark, | ||
+ | Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound, | ||
+ | My moon-like flight thou then mayst mark | ||
+ | On high, far away.---- | ||
+ | |||
+ | Some say there is a precipice | ||
+ | Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin | ||
+ | O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice | ||
+ | Mid Alpine mountains; | ||
+ | And that the languid storm pursuing | ||
+ | That winged shape, for ever flies | ||
+ | Round those hoar branches, aye renewing | ||
+ | Its aëry fountains. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Some say when nights are dry and dear, | ||
+ | And the death-dews sleep on the morass, | ||
+ | Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller, | ||
+ | Which make night day: | ||
+ | And a silver shape like his early love doth pass | ||
+ | Upborne by her wild and glittering hair, | ||
+ | And when he awakes on the frag</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++41 Art Thou Pale For Weariness| | ++++41 Art Thou Pale For Weariness| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, | ||
+ | Wandering companionless | ||
+ | Among the stars that have a different birth, | ||
+ | And ever changing, like a joyless eye | ||
+ | That finds no object worth its constancy?</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++42 Invocation| | ++++42 Invocation| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Spirit of Delight! | ||
+ | Wherefore hast thou left me now | ||
+ | Many a day and night? | ||
+ | Many a weary night and day | ||
+ | 'Tis since thou art fled away. | ||
- | ++++ | + | How shall ever one like me |
- | ++++43 fragment: | + | Win thee back again? |
+ | With the joyous and the free | ||
+ | Thou wilt scoff at pain. | ||
+ | Spirit false! thou hast forgot | ||
+ | All but those who need thee not. | ||
+ | As a lizard with the shade | ||
+ | Of a trembling leaf, | ||
+ | Thou with sorrow art dismayed; | ||
+ | Even the sighs of grief | ||
+ | Reproach thee, that thou art not near, | ||
+ | And reproach thou wilt not hear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Let me set my mournful ditty | ||
+ | To a merry measure; | ||
+ | Thou wilt never come for pity, | ||
+ | Thou wilt come for pleasure; - | ||
+ | Pity then will cut away | ||
+ | Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love all that thou lovest, | ||
+ | Spirit of Delight! | ||
+ | The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed, | ||
+ | And the starry night; | ||
+ | Autumn evening, and the morn | ||
+ | When the golden mists are born. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love snow and all the forms | ||
+ | Of the radiant frost; | ||
+ | I love waves, and winds, and storms, | ||
+ | Everything almost | ||
+ | Which is Nature' | ||
+ | Untainted by man's misery. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love tranquil solitude, | ||
+ | And such society | ||
+ | As is quiet, wise, and good: - | ||
+ | Between thee and me | ||
+ | What diff' | ||
+ | The things I seek, not love them less. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love Love -though he has wings, | ||
+ | And like light can flee, | ||
+ | But above all other things, | ||
+ | Spirit, I love thee - | ||
+ | Thou art love and life! O come! | ||
+ | Make once more my heart thy home!</ | ||
+ | ++++ | ||
+ | ++++43 fragment: | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Of climbing Heaven, and gazing on the earth, | ||
+ | Wandering companionless | ||
+ | Among the stars that have a different birth,-- | ||
+ | And ever changing, like a joyless eye | ||
+ | That finds no object worth its constancy?</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++44 To A Lady, With A Guitar| | ++++44 To A Lady, With A Guitar| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | This slave of music, for the sake | ||
+ | Of him who is the slave of thee; | ||
+ | And teach it all the harmony | ||
+ | In which thou canst, and only thou, | ||
+ | Make the delighted spirit glow, | ||
+ | Till joy denies itself again | ||
+ | And, too intense, is turned to pain. | ||
+ | For by permission and command | ||
+ | Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, | ||
+ | Poor Ariel sends this silent token | ||
+ | Of more than ever can be spoken; | ||
+ | Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who | ||
+ | From life to life must still pursue | ||
+ | Your happiness, for thus alone | ||
+ | Can Ariel ever find his own. | ||
+ | From Prospero' | ||
+ | As the mighty verses tell, | ||
+ | To the throne of Naples he | ||
+ | Lit you o'er the trackless sea, | ||
+ | Flitting on, your prow before, | ||
+ | Like a living meteor. | ||
+ | When you die, the silent Moon | ||
+ | In her interlunar swoon | ||
+ | Is not sadder in her cell | ||
+ | Than deserted Ariel. | ||
+ | When you live again on earth, | ||
+ | Like an unseen Star of birth | ||
+ | Ariel guides you o'er the sea | ||
+ | Of life from your nativity. | ||
+ | Many changes have been run | ||
+ | Since Ferdinand and you begun | ||
+ | Your course of love, and Ariel still | ||
+ | Has tracked your steps and served your will. | ||
+ | Now in humbler, happier lot, | ||
+ | This is all remembered not; | ||
+ | And now, alas! the poor sprite is | ||
+ | Imprisoned for some fault of his | ||
+ | In a body like a grave -- | ||
+ | From you he only dares to crave, | ||
+ | For his service and his sorrow, | ||
+ | A smile today, a song tomorrow. | ||
+ | The artist who this idol wrought | ||
+ | To echo all harmonious thought, | ||
+ | Felled a tree, while on the steep | ||
+ | The woods were in their winter sleep, | ||
+ | Rocked in that repose divine | ||
+ | On the wind-swept Apennine; | ||
+ | And dreaming, some of Autumn past, | ||
+ | And some of Spring approaching fast, | ||
+ | And some of April buds and showers, | ||
+ | And some of songs in July bowers, | ||
+ | And all of love; and so this tree, -- | ||
+ | O that such our death may be! -- | ||
+ | Died in sleep, and felt no pain, | ||
+ | To live in happier form again: | ||
+ | From which, beneath Heaven' | ||
+ | The artist wrought this loved Guitar; | ||
+ | And taught it justly to reply | ||
+ | To all who question skilfully | ||
+ | In language gentle as thine own; | ||
+ | Whispering in enamoured tone | ||
+ | Sweet oracles of woods and dells, | ||
+ | And summer winds in sylvan cells; | ||
+ | -- For it had learnt all harmonies | ||
+ | Of the plains and of the skies, | ||
+ | Of the forests and the mountains, | ||
+ | And the many-voiced fountains; | ||
+ | The clearest echoes of the hills, | ||
+ | The softest notes of falling rills, | ||
+ | The melodies of birds and bees, | ||
+ | The murmuring of summer seas, | ||
+ | And pattering rain, and breathing dew, | ||
+ | And airs of evening; and it knew | ||
+ | That seldom-heard mysterious sound | ||
+ | Which, driven on its diurnal round, | ||
+ | As it floats through boundless day, | ||
+ | Our world enkindles on its way: | ||
+ | -- All this it knows, but will not tell | ||
+ | To those who cannot question well | ||
+ | The Spirit that inhabits it; | ||
+ | It talks according to the wit | ||
+ | Of its companions; and no more | ||
+ | Is heard than has been felt before | ||
+ | By those who tempt it to betray | ||
+ | These secrets of an elder day. | ||
+ | But, sweetly as its answers will | ||
+ | Flatter hands of perfect skill, | ||
+ | It keeps its highest holiest tone | ||
+ | For one beloved Friend alone.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++45 From the Arabic, an Imitation| | ++++45 From the Arabic, an Imitation| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Of thy looks, my love; | ||
+ | It panted for thee like the hind at noon | ||
+ | For the brooks, my love. | ||
+ | Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest' | ||
+ | Bore thee far from me; | ||
+ | My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, | ||
+ | Did companion thee. | ||
+ | Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, | ||
+ | Or the death they bear, | ||
+ | The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove | ||
+ | With the wings of care; | ||
+ | In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, | ||
+ | Shall mine cling to thee, | ||
+ | Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, | ||
+ | It may bring to thee. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++46 The Witch Of Atlas| | ++++46 The Witch Of Atlas| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Incestuous Change bore to her father Time, | ||
+ | Error and Truth, had hunted from the earth | ||
+ | All those bright natures which adorned its prime, | ||
+ | And left us nothing to believe in, worth | ||
+ | The pains of putting into learn?d rhyme, | ||
+ | A Lady Witch there lived on Atlas mountain | ||
+ | Within a cavern by a secret fountain. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Her mother was one of the Atlantides. | ||
+ | The all-beholding Sun had ne'er beholden | ||
+ | In his wide voyage o'er continents and seas | ||
+ | So fair a creature, as she lay enfolden | ||
+ | In the warm shadow of her loveliness; | ||
+ | He kissed her with his beams, and made all golden | ||
+ | The chamber of gray rock in which she lay. | ||
+ | She, in that dream of joy, dissolved away. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'Tis said she first was changed into a vapor; | ||
+ | And then into a cloud, | ||
+ | (Like splendor-winged moths about a taper) | ||
+ | Round the red west when the Sun dies in it; | ||
+ | And then into a meteor, such as caper | ||
+ | On hill-tops when the Moon is in a fit; | ||
+ | Then into one of those mysterious stars | ||
+ | Which hide themselves between the Earth and Mars. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ten times the Mother of the Months had ben | ||
+ | Her bow beside the folding-star, | ||
+ | With that bright sign the billows to indent | ||
+ | The sea-deserted sand--(like children chidden, | ||
+ | At her command they ever came and went)-- | ||
+ | Since in that cave a dewy splendor hidden | ||
+ | Took shape and motion. With the living form | ||
+ | Of this embodied Power the cave grew warm. | ||
+ | |||
+ | A lovely Lady garmented in light | ||
+ | From her own beauty: deep her eyes as are | ||
+ | Two openings of unfathomable night | ||
+ | Seen through a temple' | ||
+ | Dark; the dim brain whirls dizzy with delight, | ||
+ | Picturing her form. Her soft smiles shone afar; | ||
+ | And her low voice was heard like love, and drew | ||
+ | All living things towards this wonder new. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And first the spotted cameleopard came; | ||
+ | And then the wise and fearless elephant; | ||
+ | Then the sly serpent, in the golden flame | ||
+ | Of his own volumes intervolved. All gaunt | ||
+ | And sanguine beasts her gentle looks made tame,-- | ||
+ | They drank before her at her sacred fount; | ||
+ | And every beast of beating heart grew bold, | ||
+ | Such gentleness and power even to behold. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The brinded lioness led forth her young, | ||
+ | That she might teach them how they should forego | ||
+ | Their inborn thirst of death; the pard unstrung | ||
+ | His sinews at her feet, and sought to know, | ||
+ | With looks whose motions spoke without a tongue, | ||
+ | How he might be as gentle as the doe. | ||
+ | The magic circle of her voice and eyes | ||
+ | All savage natures did imparadise. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And old Silenus, shaking a green stick | ||
+ | Of lilies, and the Wood-gods in a crew, | ||
+ | Came blithe as in the olive-copses thick | ||
+ | Cicade are, drunk with the noonday dew; | ||
+ | And Dryope and Faunus followed quick, | ||
+ | Teazing the God to sing them something new; | ||
+ | Till in this cave they found the Lady lone, | ||
+ | Sitting upon a seat of emerald stone. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And universal Pan, 'tis said, was there. | ||
+ | And, though none saw him, | ||
+ | Of the deep mountains, through the trackless air, | ||
+ | And through those living spirits like a want,-- | ||
+ | He passed out of his everlasting lair | ||
+ | Where the quick heart of the great world doth pant, | ||
+ | And felt that wondrous Lady all alone,-- | ||
+ | And she felt him upon her emerald throne. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And every Nymph of stream and spreading tree, | ||
+ | And every Shepherdess of Ocean' | ||
+ | Who drives her white waves over the green sea, | ||
+ | And Ocean with the brine on his grey locks, | ||
+ | And quaint Priapus with his company,-- | ||
+ | All came, much wondering how the enwombed rocks | ||
+ | Could have brought forth so beautiful a birth: | ||
+ | Her love subdued their wonder and their mirth. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The herdsmen and the mountain-maidens came, | ||
+ | And the rude kings of pastoral Garamant-- | ||
+ | Their spirits shook within them, as a flame | ||
+ | Stirred by the air under a cavern gaunt: | ||
+ | Pygmies and Polyphemes, by many a name, | ||
+ | Centaurs and Satyrs, and such shapes as haunt | ||
+ | Wet clefts, | ||
+ | Dog-headed, bosom-eyed, and bird-footed. | ||
+ | |||
+ | For she was beautiful. Her beauty made | ||
+ | The bright world dim, and everything beside | ||
+ | Seemed like the fleeting image of a shade. | ||
+ | No thought of living spirit could abide | ||
+ | (Which to her looks had ever been betrayed) | ||
+ | On any object in the world so wide, | ||
+ | On any hope within the circling skies,-- | ||
+ | But on her form, and in her inmost eyes. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Which when the Lady knew; she took her spindle, | ||
+ | And twined three threads of fleecy mist, and three | ||
+ | Long lines of light, such as the dawn may kindle | ||
+ | The clouds and waves and mountains with, and she | ||
+ | As many starbeams, ere their lamps could dwindle | ||
+ | In the belated moon, wound skilfully; | ||
+ | And with these threads a subtle veil she wove-- | ||
+ | A shadow for the splendour of her love. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling | ||
+ | Were stored with magic treasures: | ||
+ | Which had the power all spirits of compelling, | ||
+ | Folded in cells of crystal silence there; | ||
+ | Such as we hear in youth, and think the feeling | ||
+ | will never die--yet, ere we are aware, | ||
+ | The feeling and the sound are fled and gone | ||
+ | And the regret they leave remains alone. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And there lay Visions swift and sweet and quaint, | ||
+ | Each in its thin sheath like a chrysalis; | ||
+ | Some eager to burst forth; some weak and faint | ||
+ | With the soft burden of intensest bliss | ||
+ | It is their work to bear to many a saint | ||
+ | Whose heart adores the shrine which holiest is, | ||
+ | Even Love' | ||
+ | And of all shapes: | ||
+ | |||
+ | And odours in a kind of aviary | ||
+ | Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, | ||
+ | Clipped in a floating net a love-sick Fairy | ||
+ | Had woven from dew-beams while the moon yet slept. | ||
+ | As bats at the wired window of a dairy, | ||
+ | They beat their vans; and each was an adept-- | ||
+ | When loosed and missioned, making wings of winds-- | ||
+ | To stir sweet thoughts or sad in destined minds. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And liquors clear and sweet, whose healthful might | ||
+ | Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep, | ||
+ | And change eternal death into a night | ||
+ | Of glorious dreams--or, if eyes needs must weep, | ||
+ | Could make their tears all wonder and delight-- | ||
+ | She in her crystal phials did closely keep: | ||
+ | If men could drink of those clear phials, 'tis said | ||
+ | The living were not envied of the dead. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Her cave was stored with scrolls of strange device, | ||
+ | The works of some Saturnian Archimage, | ||
+ | Which taught the expiations at whose price | ||
+ | Men from the Gods might win that happy age | ||
+ | Too lightly lost, redeeming native vice,-- | ||
+ | And which might quench the earth-consuming rage | ||
+ | Of gold and blood, till men should live and move | ||
+ | Harmonious as the sacred stars above:-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | And how all things that seem untameable, | ||
+ | Not to be checked and not to be confined, | ||
+ | Obey the spells of Wisdom' | ||
+ | Time, earth, and fire, the ocean and the wind, | ||
+ | And all their shapes, and man's imperial will;-- | ||
+ | And other scrolls whose writings did unbind | ||
+ | The inmost lore of love--let the profane | ||
+ | Tremble to ask what secrets they contain. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And wondrous works of substances unknown, | ||
+ | To which the enchantment of her Father' | ||
+ | Had changed those ragged blocks of savage stone, | ||
+ | Were heaped in the recesses of her bower; | ||
+ | Carved lamps and chalices, and phials which shone | ||
+ | In their own golden beams--each like a flower | ||
+ | Out of whose depth a firefly shakes his light | ||
+ | Under a cypress in a starless night. | ||
+ | |||
+ | At first she lived alone in this wild home, | ||
+ | And her own thoughts were each a minister, | ||
+ | Clothing themselves or with the ocean-foam, | ||
+ | Or with the wind, or with the speed of fire, | ||
+ | To work whatever purposes might come | ||
+ | Into her mind: such power her mighty Sire | ||
+ | Had girt them with, whether to fly or run | ||
+ | Through all the regions which he shines upon. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The Ocean-nymphs and Hamadryades, | ||
+ | Oreads, and Naiads with long weedy locks, | ||
+ | Offered to do her bidding through the seas, | ||
+ | Under the earth, and in the hollow rocks, | ||
+ | And far beneath the matted roots of trees, | ||
+ | And in the gnarled heart of stubborn oaks; | ||
+ | So they might live for ever in the light | ||
+ | Of her sweet presence--each a satellite. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "This may not be," the Wizard Maid replied. | ||
+ | "The fountains where the Naiades bedew | ||
+ | Their shining hair at length are drained and dried; | ||
+ | The solid oaks forget their strength, and strew | ||
+ | Their latest leaf upon the mountains wide; | ||
+ | The boundless ocean like a drop of dew | ||
+ | Will be consumed; the stubborn centre must | ||
+ | Be scattered like a cloud of summer dust. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "And ye, with them, will perish one by one. | ||
+ | If I must sigh to think that this shall be, | ||
+ | If I must weep when the surviving Sun | ||
+ | Shall smile on your decay--oh ask not me | ||
+ | To love you till your little race is run; | ||
+ | I cannot die as ye must.--Over me | ||
+ | Your leaves shall glance--the streams in which ye dwell | ||
+ | Shall be my paths henceforth; and so farewell." | ||
+ | |||
+ | She spoke and wept. The dark and azure well | ||
+ | Sparkled beneath the shower of her bright tears, | ||
+ | And every little circlet where they fell | ||
+ | Flung to the cavern-roof inconstant spheres | ||
+ | And intertangled lines of light. A knell | ||
+ | Of sobbing voices came upon her ears | ||
+ | From those departing forms, o'er the serene | ||
+ | Of the white streams and of the forest green. | ||
+ | |||
+ | All day the Wizard Lady sat aloof; | ||
+ | Spelling out scrolls of dread antiquity | ||
+ | Under the cavern' | ||
+ | Or broidering the pictured poesy | ||
+ | Of some high tale upon her growing woof, | ||
+ | Which the sweet splendor of her smiles could dye | ||
+ | In hues outshining heaven--and ever she | ||
+ | Added some grace to the wrought poesy:-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece | ||
+ | Of sandal-wood, | ||
+ | Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is; | ||
+ | Each flame of it is as a precious stone | ||
+ | Dissolved in ever-moving light, and this | ||
+ | Belongs to each and all who gaze thereon.' | ||
+ | The Witch beheld it not, for in her hand | ||
+ | She held a woof that dimmed the burning brand. | ||
+ | |||
+ | This Lady never slept, but lay in trance | ||
+ | All night within the fountain--as in sleep. | ||
+ | Its emerald crags glowed in her beauty' | ||
+ | Through the green splendour of the water deep | ||
+ | She saw the constellations reel and dance | ||
+ | Like fireflies--and withal did ever keep | ||
+ | The tenor of her contemplations calm, | ||
+ | With open eyes, closed feet, and folded palm. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And, when the whirlwinds and the clouds descended | ||
+ | From the white pinnacles of that cold hill, | ||
+ | She passed at dewfall to a space extended, | ||
+ | Where, in a lawn of flowering asphodel | ||
+ | Amid a wood of pines and cedars blended, | ||
+ | There yawned an inextinguishable well | ||
+ | Of crimson fire, full even to the brim, | ||
+ | And overflowing all the margin trim:-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | Within the which she lay when the fierce war | ||
+ | Of wintry winds shook that innocuous liquor, | ||
+ | In many a mimic moon and bearded star, | ||
+ | O'er woods and lawns. The serpent heard it flicker | ||
+ | In sleep, and, dreaming still, he crept afar. | ||
+ | And, when the windless snow descended thicker | ||
+ | Than autumn-leaves, | ||
+ | Melt on the surface of the level flame. | ||
+ | |||
+ | She had a boat which some say Vulcan wrought | ||
+ | For Venus, as the chariot of her star; | ||
+ | But it was found too feeble to be fraught | ||
+ | With all the ardours in that sphere which are, | ||
+ | And so she sold it, and Apollo bought | ||
+ | And gave it to this daughter: from a car, | ||
+ | Changed to the fairest and the lightest boat | ||
+ | Which ever upon mortal stream did float. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And others say that, when but three hours old, | ||
+ | The firstborn Love out of his cradle leapt, | ||
+ | And clove dun chaos with his wings of gold, | ||
+ | And, like a horticultural adept, | ||
+ | Stole a strange seed, and wrapped it up in mould, | ||
+ | And sowed it in his mother' | ||
+ | Watering it all the summer with sweet dew, | ||
+ | And with his wings fanning it as it grew. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The plant grew strong and green--the snowy flower | ||
+ | Fell, and the long and gourd-like fruit began | ||
+ | To turn the light and dew by inward power | ||
+ | To its own substance: woven tracery ran | ||
+ | Of light firm texture, ribbed and branching, o'er | ||
+ | The solid rind, like a leaf's veined fan,-- | ||
+ | Of which Love scooped this boat, and with soft motion | ||
+ | Piloted it round the circumfluous ocean. | ||
+ | |||
+ | This boat she moored upon her fount, and lit | ||
+ | A living spirit within all its frame, | ||
+ | Breathing the soul of swiftness into it. | ||
+ | Couched on the fountain--like a panther tame | ||
+ | (One of the twain at Evan's feet that sit, | ||
+ | Or as on Vesta' | ||
+ | Or on blind Homer' | ||
+ | In joyous expectation lay the boat. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow | ||
+ | Together, tempering the repugnant mass | ||
+ | With liquid love--all things together grow | ||
+ | Through which the harmony of love can pass; | ||
+ | And a fair Shape out of her hands did flow-- | ||
+ | A living image which did far surpass | ||
+ | In beauty that bright shape of vital stone | ||
+ | Which drew the heart out of Pygmalion. | ||
+ | |||
+ | A sexless thing it was, and in its growth | ||
+ | It seemed to have developed no defect | ||
+ | Of either sex, yet all the grace of both. | ||
+ | In gentleness and strength its limbs were decked; | ||
+ | The bosom lightly swelled with its full youth; | ||
+ | The countenance was such as might select | ||
+ | Some artist that his skill should never die, | ||
+ | lmaging forth such perfect purity. | ||
+ | |||
+ | From its smooth shoulders hung two rapid wings | ||
+ | Fit to have borne it to the seventh sphere, | ||
+ | Tipped with the speed of liquid lightenings, | ||
+ | Dyed in the ardours of the atmosphere. | ||
+ | She led her creature to the boiling springs | ||
+ | Where the light boat was moored, and said "Sit here," | ||
+ | And pointed to the prow, and took her seat | ||
+ | Beside the rudder with opposing feet. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And down the streams which clove those mountains vast, | ||
+ | Around their inland islets, and amid | ||
+ | The panther-peopled forests (whose shade cast | ||
+ | Darkness and odors, and a pleasure hid | ||
+ | In melancholy gloom) the pinnace passed; | ||
+ | By many a star-surrounded pyramid | ||
+ | Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky, | ||
+ | And caverns yawning round unfathomably. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The silver noon into that winding dell, | ||
+ | With slanted gleam athwart the forest-tops, | ||
+ | Tempered like golden evening, feebly fell; | ||
+ | A green and glowing light, like that which drops | ||
+ | From folded lilies in which glow-worms dwell | ||
+ | When Earth over her face Night' | ||
+ | Between the severed mountains lay on high, | ||
+ | Over the stream, a narrow rift of sky. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And, ever as she went, the Image lay | ||
+ | With folded wings and unawakened eyes; | ||
+ | And o'er its gentle countenance did play | ||
+ | The busy dreams, as thick as summer flies, | ||
+ | Chasing the rapid smiles that would not stay, | ||
+ | And drinking the warm tears, and the sweet sighs | ||
+ | Inhaling, which with busy murmur vain | ||
+ | They has aroused from that full heart and brain. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud | ||
+ | Upon a stream of wind, the pinnace went: | ||
+ | Now lingering on the pools, in which abode | ||
+ | The calm and darkness of the deep content | ||
+ | In which they paused; now o'er the shallow road | ||
+ | Of white and dancing waters, all besprent | ||
+ | With sand and polished pebbles: | ||
+ | In such a shallow rapid could not float. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And down the earthquaking cataracts, which shivcr | ||
+ | Their snow-like waters into golden air, | ||
+ | Or under chasms unfathomable ever | ||
+ | Sepulchre them, till in their rage they tear | ||
+ | A subterranean portal for the river, | ||
+ | It fled. The circling sunbows did upbear | ||
+ | Its fall down the hoar precipice of spray, | ||
+ | Lighting it far upon its lampless way. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And, when the Wizard Lady would ascend | ||
+ | The labyrinths of some many-winding vale | ||
+ | Which to the inmost mountain upward tend, | ||
+ | She called " | ||
+ | And heavy hue which slumber could extend | ||
+ | Over its lips and eyes, as on the gale | ||
+ | A rapid shadow from a slope of grass, | ||
+ | Into the darkness of the stream did pass | ||
+ | |||
+ | And it unfurled its heaven-coloured pinions; | ||
+ | With stars of fire spotting the stream below, | ||
+ | And from above into the Sun's dominions | ||
+ | Flinging a glory like the golden glow | ||
+ | In which Spring clothes her emerald-winged minions, | ||
+ | All interwoven with fine feathery snow, | ||
+ | And moonlight splendour of intensest rime | ||
+ | With which frost paints the pines in winter-time. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And then it winnowed the elysian air | ||
+ | Which ever hung about that Lady bright, | ||
+ | With its etherial vans: and, speeding there, | ||
+ | Like a star up the torrent of the night, | ||
+ | Or a swift eagle in the morning glare | ||
+ | Breasting the whirlwind with impetuous flight, | ||
+ | The pinnace, oared by those enchanted wings, | ||
+ | Clove the fierce streams towards their upper springs. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The water flashed, | ||
+ | Of a noon-wandering meteor flung to heaven; | ||
+ | The still air seemed as if its waves did flow | ||
+ | In tempest down the mountains; loosely driven, | ||
+ | The Lady's radiant hair streamed to and fro; | ||
+ | Beneath, the billows, having vainly striven | ||
+ | Indignant and impetuous, roared to feel | ||
+ | The swift and steady motion of the keel. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Or, when the weary moon was in the wane, | ||
+ | Or in the noon of interlunar night, | ||
+ | The Lady Witch in visions could not chain | ||
+ | Her spirit; but sailed forth under the light | ||
+ | Of shooting stars, and bade extend amain | ||
+ | Its storm-outspeeding wings the Hermaphrodite; | ||
+ | She to the austral waters took her way, | ||
+ | Beyond the fabulous Thamondocana. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Where, like a meadow which no scythe has shaven, | ||
+ | Which rain could never bend or whirlblast shake, | ||
+ | With the antarctic constellations paven, | ||
+ | Canopus and his crew, lay the austral lake-- | ||
+ | There she would build herself a windless haven | ||
+ | Out of the clouds whose moving turrets make | ||
+ | The bastions of the storm, when through the sky | ||
+ | The spirits of the tempest thundered by:-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | A haven beneath whose translucent floor | ||
+ | The tremulous stars sparkled unfathomably; | ||
+ | And around which the solid vapours hoar, | ||
+ | Based on the level waters, to the sky | ||
+ | Lifted their dreadful crags, and, like a shore | ||
+ | Of wintry mountains, inaccessibly | ||
+ | Hemmed-in with rifts and precipices grey, | ||
+ | And hanging crags, many a cove and bay. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And, whilst the outer lake beneath the lash | ||
+ | Of the wind's scourge foamed like a wounded thing | ||
+ | And the incessant hail with stony clash | ||
+ | Ploughed up the waters, and the flagging wing | ||
+ | Of the roused cormorant in the lightningflash | ||
+ | Looked like the wreck of some wind-wandering | ||
+ | Fragment of inky thunder-smoke--this haven | ||
+ | Was as a gem to copy heaven engraven. | ||
+ | |||
+ | On which that Lady played her many pranks, | ||
+ | Circling the image of a shooting star | ||
+ | (Even as a tiger on Hydaspes' | ||
+ | Outspeeds the antelopes which speediest are) | ||
+ | In her light boat; and many quips and cranks | ||
+ | She played upon the water; till the car | ||
+ | Of the late moon, like a sick matron wan, | ||
+ | To journey from the misty east began. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And then she called out of the hollow turrets | ||
+ | Of those high clouds, white, golden, and vermilion, | ||
+ | The armies of her ministering spirits. | ||
+ | In mighty legions million after million | ||
+ | They came, each troop emblazoning its merits | ||
+ | On meteor flags; and many a proud pavilion | ||
+ | Of the intertexture of the atmosphere | ||
+ | They pitched upon the plain of the calm mere. | ||
+ | |||
+ | They framed the imperial tent of their great Queen | ||
+ | Of woven exhalations, | ||
+ | With lambent lightning-fire, | ||
+ | A dome of thin and open ivory inlaid | ||
+ | With crimson silk. Cressets from the serene | ||
+ | Hung there, and on the water for her tread | ||
+ | A tapestry of fleece-like mist was strewn, | ||
+ | Dyed in the beams of the ascending moon. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And on a throne o' | ||
+ | Upon those wandering isles of aery dew | ||
+ | Which highest shoals of mountain shipwreck not, | ||
+ | She sate, and heard all that had happened new | ||
+ | Between the earth and moon since they had brought | ||
+ | The last intelligence: | ||
+ | Pale as that moon lost in the watery night, | ||
+ | And now she wept, and now she laughed outright. | ||
+ | |||
+ | These were tame pleasures.--She would often climb | ||
+ | The steepest ladder of the crudded rack | ||
+ | Up to some beaked cape of cloud sublime, | ||
+ | And like Arion on the dolphin' | ||
+ | Ride singing through the shoreless air. Oft-time, | ||
+ | Following the serpent lightning' | ||
+ | She ran upon the platforms of the wind, | ||
+ | And laughed to hear the fireballs roar behid. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And sometimes to those streams of upper air | ||
+ | Which whirl the earth in its diurnal round | ||
+ | She would ascend, and win the Spirits there | ||
+ | To let her join their chorus. Mortals found | ||
+ | That on those days the sky was calm and fair, | ||
+ | And mystic snatches of harmonious sound | ||
+ | Wandered upon the earth where' | ||
+ | And happy thoughts of hope, too sweet to last. | ||
+ | |||
+ | But her choice sport was, in the hours of sleep, | ||
+ | To glide adown old Nilus, where he threads | ||
+ | Egypt and Ethiopia from the steep | ||
+ | Of utmost Axume until he spreads, | ||
+ | Like a calm flock of silver-fleeced sheep, | ||
+ | His waters on the plain,--and crested heads | ||
+ | Of cities and proud temples gleam amid, | ||
+ | And many a vapour-belted pyramid:-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | By MÏris and the Mareotid lakes, | ||
+ | Strewn with faint blooms like bridal-chamber floors, | ||
+ | Where naked boys bridling tame water-snakes, | ||
+ | Or charioteering ghastly alligators, | ||
+ | Had left on the sweet waters mighty wakes | ||
+ | Of those huge forms; | ||
+ | Of the Great Labyrinth slept both boy and beast, | ||
+ | Tired with the pomp of their Osirian feast. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And where within the surface of the river | ||
+ | The shadows of the massy temples lie, | ||
+ | And never are erased, but tremble ever | ||
+ | Like things which every cloud can doom to die,-- | ||
+ | Through lotus-paven canals, and wheresoever | ||
+ | The works of man pierced that serenest sky | ||
+ | With tombs and towers and fanes, | ||
+ | To wander in the shadow of the night. | ||
+ | |||
+ | With motion like the spirit of that wind | ||
+ | Whose soft step deepens slumber, her light feet | ||
+ | Passed through the peopled haunts of humankind, | ||
+ | Scattering sweet visions from her presence sweet,-- | ||
+ | Through fane and palace-court, | ||
+ | With many a dark and subterranean street | ||
+ | Under the Nile; through chambers high and deep | ||
+ | She passed, observing mortals in their sleep. | ||
+ | |||
+ | A pleasure sweet doubtless it was to see | ||
+ | Mortals subdued in all the shapes of sleep. | ||
+ | Here lay two sister-twins in infancy; | ||
+ | There a lone youth who in his dreams did weep; | ||
+ | Within, two lovers linked innocently | ||
+ | In their loose locks which over both did creep | ||
+ | Like ivy from one stem; and there lay calm | ||
+ | Old age with snow-bright hair and folded palm. | ||
+ | |||
+ | But other troubled forms of sleep she saw, | ||
+ | Not to be mirrored in a holy song,-- | ||
+ | Distortions foul of supernatural awe, | ||
+ | And pale imaginings of visioned wrong, | ||
+ | And all the code of Custom' | ||
+ | Written upon the brows of old and young. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Which stirs the liquid surface of man's life." | ||
+ | |||
+ | And little did the sight disturb her soul. | ||
+ | We, the weak mariners of that wide lake, | ||
+ | Where' | ||
+ | Our course unpiloted and starless make | ||
+ | O'er its wild surface to an unknown goal; | ||
+ | But she in the calm depths her way could take, | ||
+ | Where in bright bowers immortal forms abide | ||
+ | Beneath the weltering of the restless tide. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And she saw princes couched under the glow | ||
+ | Of sunlike gems; and round each temple-court | ||
+ | In dormitories ranged, row after row, | ||
+ | She saw the priests asleep, | ||
+ | For all were educated to be so. | ||
+ | The peasants in their huts, and in the port | ||
+ | The sailors she saw cradled on the waves, | ||
+ | And the dead lulled within their dreamless graves. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And all the forms in which those spirits lay | ||
+ | Were to her sight like the diaphanous | ||
+ | Veils in which those sweet ladies oft array | ||
+ | Their delicate limbs who would conceal from us | ||
+ | Only their scorn of all concealment: | ||
+ | Move in the light of their own beauty thus. | ||
+ | But these and all now lay with sleep upon them, | ||
+ | And little thought a Witch was looking on them. | ||
+ | |||
+ | She all those human figures breathing there | ||
+ | Beheld as living spirits. To her eyes | ||
+ | The naked beauty of the soul lay bare, | ||
+ | And often through a rude and worn disguise | ||
+ | She saw the inner form most bright and fair: | ||
+ | And then she had a charm of strange device, | ||
+ | Which, murmured on mute lips with tender tone, | ||
+ | Could make that spirit mingle with her own. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Alas! Aurora, what wouldst thou have given | ||
+ | For such a charm, when Tithon became grey-- | ||
+ | Or how much, Venus, of thy silver heaven | ||
+ | Wouldst thou have yielded, ere Proserpina | ||
+ | Had half (oh why not all?) the debt forgiven | ||
+ | Which dear Adonis had been doomed to pay-- | ||
+ | To any witch who would have taught you it | ||
+ | The Heliad doth not know its value yet. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'Tis said in after times her spirit free | ||
+ | Knew what love was, and felt itself alone. | ||
+ | But holy Dian could not chaster be | ||
+ | Before she stooped to kiss Endymion | ||
+ | Than now this Lady,--like a sexless bee, | ||
+ | Tasting all blossoms and confined to none: | ||
+ | Among those mortal forms the Wizard Maiden | ||
+ | Passed with an eye serene and heart unladen. | ||
+ | |||
+ | To those she saw most beautiful she gave | ||
+ | Strange panacea in a crystal bowl. | ||
+ | They drank in their deep sleep of that sweet wave, | ||
+ | And lived thenceforward as if some control, | ||
+ | Mightier than life, were in them; and the grave | ||
+ | Of such, when death oppressed the weary soul, | ||
+ | Was as a green and overarching bower | ||
+ | Lit by the gems of many a starry flower. | ||
+ | |||
+ | For, on the night when they were buried, she | ||
+ | Restored the embalmer' | ||
+ | The light out of the funeral-lamps, | ||
+ | A mimic day within that deathy nook; | ||
+ | And she unwound the woven imagery | ||
+ | Of second childhood' | ||
+ | The coffin, its last cradle, from its niche, | ||
+ | And threw it with contempt into a ditch, | ||
+ | |||
+ | And there the body lay, age after age, | ||
+ | Mute, breathing, beating, warm, and undecaying, | ||
+ | Like one asleep in a green hermitage, | ||
+ | With gentle smiles about its eyelids playing, | ||
+ | And living in its dreams beyond the rage | ||
+ | Of death or life; while they were still arraying | ||
+ | In liveries ever new the rapid, blind, | ||
+ | And fleeting generations of mankind. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And she would write strange dreams upon the brain | ||
+ | Of those who were less beautiful, and make | ||
+ | All harsh and crooked purposes more vain | ||
+ | Than in the desert is the serpent' | ||
+ | Which the sand covers. All his evil gain | ||
+ | The miser, in such dreams, would rise and shake | ||
+ | Into a beggar' | ||
+ | Would his own lies betray without a bribe. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The priests would write an explanation full, | ||
+ | Translating hieroglyphics into Greek, | ||
+ | How the God Apis really was a bull, | ||
+ | And nothing more; and bid the herald stick | ||
+ | The same against the temple-doors, | ||
+ | The old cant down: they licensed all to speak | ||
+ | Whate' | ||
+ | By pastoral letters to each diocese. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The king would dress an ape up in his crown | ||
+ | And robes, and seat him on his glorious seat, | ||
+ | And on the right hand of the sunlike throne | ||
+ | Would place a gaudy mock-bird to repeat | ||
+ | The chatterings of the monkey. Every one | ||
+ | Of the prone courtiers crawled to kiss the feet | ||
+ | Of their great emperor when the morning came; | ||
+ | And kissed--alas, | ||
+ | |||
+ | The soldiers dreamed that they were blacksmiths, | ||
+ | Walked out of quarters in somnambulism; | ||
+ | Round the red anvils you might see them stand | ||
+ | Like Cyclopses in Vulcan' | ||
+ | Beating their swords to ploughshares: | ||
+ | The jailors sent those of the liberal schism | ||
+ | Free through the streets of Memphis--much, | ||
+ | To the annoyance of king Amasis. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And timid lovers, who had been so coy | ||
+ | They hardly knew whether they loved or not, | ||
+ | Would rise out of their rest, and take sweet joy, | ||
+ | To the fulfilment of their inmost thought; | ||
+ | And, when next day the maiden and the boy | ||
+ | Met one another, both, like sinners caught, | ||
+ | Blushed at the thing which each believed was done | ||
+ | Only in fancy--till the tenth moon shone; | ||
+ | |||
+ | And then the Witch would let them take no ill; | ||
+ | Of many thousand schemes which lovers find, | ||
+ | The Witch found one,--and so they took their fill | ||
+ | Of happiness in marriage warm and kind. | ||
+ | Friends who, by practice of some envious skill, | ||
+ | Were torn apart (a wide wound, mind from mind) | ||
+ | She did unite again with visions clear | ||
+ | Of deep affection and of truth sincere. | ||
+ | These were the pranks she played among the cities | ||
+ | Of mortal men. And what she did to Sprites | ||
+ | And Gods, entangling them in her sweet ditties, | ||
+ | To do her will, and show their subtle sleights, | ||
+ | I will declare another time; for it is | ||
+ | A tale more fit for the weird winter-nights | ||
+ | Than for these garish summer-days, | ||
+ | Scarcely believe much more than we can see.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++47 Alastor: | ++++47 Alastor: | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | If our great Mother has imbued my soul | ||
+ | With aught of natural piety to feel | ||
+ | Your love, and recompense the boon with mine; | ||
+ | If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and even, | ||
+ | With sunset and its gorgeous ministers, | ||
+ | And solemn midnight' | ||
+ | If Autumn' | ||
+ | And Winter robing with pure snow and crowns | ||
+ | Of starry ice the gray grass and bare boughs; | ||
+ | If Spring' | ||
+ | Her first sweet kisses, | ||
+ | If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast | ||
+ | I consciously have injured, but still loved | ||
+ | And cherished these my kindred; then forgive | ||
+ | This boast, belovèd brethren, and withdraw | ||
+ | No portion of your wonted favor now! | ||
+ | Mother of this unfathomable world! | ||
+ | Favor my solemn song, for I have loved | ||
+ | Thee ever, and thee only; I have watched | ||
+ | Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps, | ||
+ | And my heart ever gazes on the depth | ||
+ | Of thy deep mysteries. I have made my bed | ||
+ | In charnels and on coffins, where black death | ||
+ | Keeps record of the trophies won from thee, | ||
+ | Hoping to still these obstinate questionings | ||
+ | Of thee and thine, by forcing some lone ghost, | ||
+ | Thy messenger, to render up the tale | ||
+ | Of what we are. In lone and silent hours, | ||
+ | When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness, | ||
+ | Like an inspired and desperate alchemist | ||
+ | Staking his very life on some dark hope, | ||
+ | Have I mixed awful talk and asking looks | ||
+ | With my most innocent love, until strange tears, | ||
+ | Uniting with those breathless kisses, made | ||
+ | Such magic as compels the charmèd night | ||
+ | To render up thy charge; and, though ne'er yet | ||
+ | Thou hast unveiled thy inmost sanctuary, | ||
+ | Enough from incommunicable dream, | ||
+ | And twilight phantasms, and deep noonday thought, | ||
+ | Has shone within me, that serenely now | ||
+ | And moveless, as a long-forgotten lyre | ||
+ | Suspended in the solitary dome | ||
+ | Of some mysterious and deserted fane, | ||
+ | I wait thy breath, Great Parent, that my strain | ||
+ | May modulate with murmurs of the air, | ||
+ | And motions of the forests and the sea, | ||
+ | And voice of living beings, and woven hymns | ||
+ | Of night and day, and the deep heart of man. | ||
+ | |||
+ | There was a Poet whose untimely tomb | ||
+ | No human hands with pious reverence reared, | ||
+ | But the charmed eddies of autumnal winds | ||
+ | Built o'er his mouldering bones a pyramid | ||
+ | Of mouldering leaves in the waste wilderness: | ||
+ | A lovely youth,--no mourning maiden decked | ||
+ | With weeping flowers, or votive cypress wreath, | ||
+ | The lone couch of his everlasting sleep: | ||
+ | Gentle, and brave, and generous, | ||
+ | Breathed o'er his dark fate one melodious sigh: | ||
+ | He lived, he died, he sung in solitude. | ||
+ | Strangers have wept to hear his passionate notes, | ||
+ | And virgins, as unknown he passed, have pined | ||
+ | And wasted for fond love of his wild eyes. | ||
+ | The fire of those soft orbs has ceased to burn, | ||
+ | And Silence, too enamoured of that voice, | ||
+ | Locks its mute music in her rugged cell. | ||
+ | |||
+ | By solemn vision and bright silver dream | ||
+ | His infancy was nurtured. Every sight | ||
+ | And sound from the vast earth and ambient air | ||
+ | Sent to his heart its choicest impulses. | ||
+ | The fountains of divine philosophy | ||
+ | Fled not his thirsting lips, and all of great, | ||
+ | Or good, or lovely, which the sacred past | ||
+ | In truth or fable consecrates, | ||
+ | And knew. When early youth had passed, he left | ||
+ | His cold fireside and alienated home | ||
+ | To seek strange truths in undiscovered lands. | ||
+ | Many a wide waste and tangled wilderness | ||
+ | Has lured his fearless steps; and he has bought | ||
+ | With his sweet voice and eyes, from savage men, | ||
+ | His rest and food. Nature' | ||
+ | He like her shadow has pursued, where' | ||
+ | The red volcano overcanopies | ||
+ | Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice | ||
+ | With burning smoke, or where bitumen lakes | ||
+ | On black bare pointed islets ever beat | ||
+ | With sluggish surge, or where the secret caves, | ||
+ | Rugged and dark, winding among the springs | ||
+ | Of fire and poison, inaccessible | ||
+ | To avarice or pride, their starry domes | ||
+ | Of diamond and of gold expand above | ||
+ | Numberless and immeasurable halls, | ||
+ | Frequent with crystal column, and clear shrines | ||
+ | Of pearl, and thrones radiant with chrysolite. | ||
+ | Nor had that scene of ampler majesty | ||
+ | Than gems or gold, the varying roof of heaven | ||
+ | And the green earth, lost in his heart its claims | ||
+ | To love and wonder; he would linger long | ||
+ | In lonesome vales, making the wild his home, | ||
+ | Until the doves and squirrels would partake | ||
+ | From his innocuous band his bloodless food, | ||
+ | Lured by the gentle meaning of his looks, | ||
+ | And the wild antelope, that starts whene' | ||
+ | The dry leaf rustles in the brake, suspend | ||
+ | Her timid steps, to gaze upon a form | ||
+ | More graceful than her own. | ||
+ | |||
+ | His wandering step, | ||
+ | Obedient to high thoughts, has visited | ||
+ | The awful ruins of the days of old: | ||
+ | Athens, and Tyre, and Balbec, and the waste | ||
+ | Where stood Jerusalem, the fallen towers | ||
+ | Of Babylon, the eternal pyramids, | ||
+ | Memphis and Thebes, and whatsoe' | ||
+ | Sculptured on alabaster obelisk | ||
+ | Or jasper tomb or mutilated sphinx, | ||
+ | Dark Æthiopia in her desert hills | ||
+ | Conceals. Among the ruined temples there, | ||
+ | Stupendous columns, and wild images | ||
+ | Of more than man, where marble daemons watch | ||
+ | The Zodiac' | ||
+ | Hang their mute thoughts on the mute walls around, | ||
+ | He lingered, poring on memorials | ||
+ | Of the world' | ||
+ | Gazed on those speechless shapes; nor, when the moon | ||
+ | Filled the mysterious halls with floating shades | ||
+ | Suspended he that task, but ever gazed | ||
+ | And gazed, till meaning on his vacant mind | ||
+ | Flashed like strong inspiration, | ||
+ | The thrilling secrets of the birth of time. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Meanwhile an Arab maiden brought his food, | ||
+ | Her daily portion, from her father' | ||
+ | And spread her matting for his couch, and stole | ||
+ | From duties and repose to tend his steps, | ||
+ | Enamoured, yet not daring for deep awe | ||
+ | To speak her love, and watched his nightly sleep, | ||
+ | Sleepless herself, to gaze upon his lips | ||
+ | Parted in slumber, whence the regular breath | ||
+ | Of innocent dreams arose; then, when red morn | ||
+ | Made paler the pale moon, to her cold home | ||
+ | Wildered, and wan, and panting, she returned. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The Poet, wandering on, through Arabie, | ||
+ | And Persia, and the wild Carmanian waste, | ||
+ | And o'er the aërial mountains which pour down | ||
+ | Indus and Oxus from their icy caves, | ||
+ | In joy and exultation held his way; | ||
+ | Till in the vale of Cashmire, far within | ||
+ | Its loneliest dell, where odorous plants entwine | ||
+ | Beneath the hollow rocks a natural bower, | ||
+ | Beside a sparkling rivulet he stretched | ||
+ | His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep | ||
+ | There came, a dream of hopes that never yet | ||
+ | Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veilèd maid | ||
+ | Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. | ||
+ | Her voice was like the voice of his own soul | ||
+ | Heard in the calm of thought; its music long, | ||
+ | Like woven sounds of streams and breezes, held | ||
+ | His inmost sense suspended in its web | ||
+ | Of many-colored woof and shifting hues. | ||
+ | Knowledge and truth and virtue were her theme, | ||
+ | And lofty hopes of divine liberty, | ||
+ | Thoughts the most dear to him, and poesy, | ||
+ | Herself a poet. Soon the solemn mood | ||
+ | Of her pure mind kindled through all her frame | ||
+ | A permeating fire; wild numbers then | ||
+ | She raised, with voice stifled in tremulous sobs | ||
+ | Subdued by its own pathos; her fair hands | ||
+ | Were bare alone, sweeping from some strange harp | ||
+ | Strange symphony, and in their branching veins | ||
+ | The eloquent blood told an ineffable tale. | ||
+ | The beating of her heart was heard to fill | ||
+ | The pauses of her music, and her breath | ||
+ | Tumultuously accorded with those fits | ||
+ | Of intermitted song. Sudden she rose, | ||
+ | As if her heart impatiently endured | ||
+ | Its bursting burden; at the sound he turned, | ||
+ | And saw by the warm light of their own life | ||
+ | Her glowing limbs beneath the sinuous veil | ||
+ | Of woven wind, her outspread arms now bare, | ||
+ | Her dark locks floating in the breath of night, | ||
+ | Her beamy bending eyes, her parted lips | ||
+ | Outstretched, | ||
+ | His strong heart sunk and sickened with excess | ||
+ | Of love. He reared his shuddering limbs, and quelled | ||
+ | His gasping breath, and spread his arms to meet | ||
+ | Her panting bosom:--she drew back awhile, | ||
+ | Then, yielding to the irresistible joy, | ||
+ | With frantic gesture and short breathless cry | ||
+ | Folded his frame in her dissolving arms. | ||
+ | Now blackness veiled his dizzy eyes, and night | ||
+ | Involved and swallowed up the vision; sleep, | ||
+ | Like a dark flood suspended in its course, | ||
+ | Rolled back its impulse on his vacant brain. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Roused by the shock, he started from his trance-- | ||
+ | The cold white light of morning, the blue moon | ||
+ | Low in the west, the clear and garish hills, | ||
+ | The distinct valley and the vacant woods, | ||
+ | Spread round him where he stood. Whither have fled | ||
+ | The hues of heaven that canopied his bower | ||
+ | Of yesternight? | ||
+ | The mystery and the majesty of Earth, | ||
+ | The joy, the exultation? His wan eyes | ||
+ | Gaze on the empty scene as vacantly | ||
+ | As ocean' | ||
+ | The spirit of sweet human love has sent | ||
+ | A vision to the sleep of him who spurned | ||
+ | Her choicest gifts. He eagerly pursues | ||
+ | Beyond the realms of dream that fleeting shade; | ||
+ | He overleaps the bounds. Alas! alas! | ||
+ | Were limbs and breath and being intertwined | ||
+ | Thus treacherously? | ||
+ | In the wide pathless desert of dim sleep, | ||
+ | That beautiful shape! Does the dark gate of death | ||
+ | Conduct to thy mysterious paradise, | ||
+ | O Sleep? Does the bright arch of rainbow clouds | ||
+ | And pendent mountains seen in the calm lake | ||
+ | Lead only to a black and watery depth, | ||
+ | While death' | ||
+ | Where every shade which the foul grave exhales | ||
+ | Hides its dead eye from the detested day, | ||
+ | Conducts, O Sleep, to thy delightful realms? | ||
+ | This doubt with sudden tide flowed on his heart; | ||
+ | The insatiate hope which it awakened stung | ||
+ | His brain even like despair. | ||
+ | |||
+ | While daylight held | ||
+ | The sky, the Poet kept mute conference | ||
+ | With his still soul. At night the passion came, | ||
+ | Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream, | ||
+ | And shook him from his rest, and led him forth | ||
+ | Into the darkness. As an eagle, grasped | ||
+ | In folds of the green serpent, feels her breast | ||
+ | Burn with the poison, and precipitates | ||
+ | Through night and day, tempest, and calm, and cloud, | ||
+ | Frantic with dizzying anguish, her blind flight | ||
+ | O'er the wide aëry wilderness: thus driven | ||
+ | By the bright shadow of that lovely dream, | ||
+ | Beneath the cold glare of the desolate night, | ||
+ | Through tangled swamps and deep precipitous dells, | ||
+ | Startling with careless step the moon-light snake, | ||
+ | He fled. Red morning dawned upon his flight, | ||
+ | Shedding the mockery of its vital hues | ||
+ | Upon his cheek of death. He wandered on | ||
+ | Till vast Aornos seen from Petra' | ||
+ | Hung o'er the low horizon like a cloud; | ||
+ | Through Balk, and where the desolated tombs | ||
+ | Of Parthian kings scatter to every wind | ||
+ | Their wasting dust, wildly he wandered on, | ||
+ | Day after day, a weary waste of hours, | ||
+ | Bearing within his life the brooding care | ||
+ | That ever fed on its decaying flame. | ||
+ | And now his limbs were lean; his scattered hair, | ||
+ | Sered by the autumn of strange suffering, | ||
+ | Sung dirges in the wind; his listless hand | ||
+ | Hung like dead bone within its withered skin; | ||
+ | Life, and the lustre that consumed it, shone, | ||
+ | As in a furnace burning secretly, | ||
+ | From his dark eyes alone. The cottagers, | ||
+ | Who ministered with human charity | ||
+ | His human wants, beheld with wondering awe | ||
+ | Their fleeting visitant. The mountaineer, | ||
+ | Encountering on some dizzy precipice | ||
+ | That spectral form, deemed that the Spirit of Wind, | ||
+ | With lightning eyes, and eager breath, and feet | ||
+ | Disturbing not the drifted snow, had paused | ||
+ | In its career; the infant would conceal | ||
+ | His troubled visage in his mother' | ||
+ | In terror at the glare of those wild eyes, | ||
+ | To remember their strange light in many a dream | ||
+ | Of after times; but youthful maidens, taught | ||
+ | By nature, would interpret half the woe | ||
+ | That wasted him, would call him with false names | ||
+ | Brother and friend, would press his pallid hand | ||
+ | At parting, and watch, dim through tears, the path | ||
+ | Of his departure from their father' | ||
+ | |||
+ | At length upon the lone Chorasmian shore | ||
+ | He paused, a wide and melancholy waste | ||
+ | Of putrid marshes. A strong impulse urged | ||
+ | His steps to the sea-shore. A swan was there, | ||
+ | Beside a sluggish stream among the reeds. | ||
+ | It rose as he approached, and, with strong wings | ||
+ | Scaling the upward sky, bent its bright course | ||
+ | High over the immeasurable main. | ||
+ | His eyes pursued its flight: | ||
+ | Beautiful bird! thou voyagest to thine home, | ||
+ | Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck | ||
+ | With thine, and welcome thy return with eyes | ||
+ | Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy. | ||
+ | And what am I that I should linger here, | ||
+ | With voice far sweeter than thy dying notes, | ||
+ | Spirit more vast than thine, frame more attuned | ||
+ | To beauty, wasting these surpassing powers | ||
+ | In the deaf air, to the blind earth, and heaven | ||
+ | That echoes not my thoughts?' | ||
+ | Of desperate hope wrinkled his quivering lips. | ||
+ | For sleep, he knew, kept most relentlessly | ||
+ | Its precious charge, and silent death exposed, | ||
+ | Faithless perhaps as sleep, a shadowy lure, | ||
+ | With doubtful smile mocking its own strange charms. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Startled by his own thoughts, he looked around. | ||
+ | There was no fair fiend near him, not a sight | ||
+ | Or sound of awe but in his own deep mind. | ||
+ | A little shallop floating near the shore | ||
+ | Caught the impatient wandering of his gaze. | ||
+ | It had been long abandoned, for its sides | ||
+ | Gaped wide with many a rift, and its frail joints | ||
+ | Swayed with the undulations of the tide. | ||
+ | A restless impulse urged him to embark | ||
+ | And meet lone Death on the drear ocean' | ||
+ | For well he knew that mighty Shadow loves | ||
+ | The slimy caverns of the populous deep. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The day was fair and sunny; sea and sky | ||
+ | Drank its inspiring radiance, and the wind | ||
+ | Swept strongly from the shore, blackening the waves. | ||
+ | Following his eager soul, the wanderer | ||
+ | Leaped in the boat; he spread his cloak aloft | ||
+ | On the bare mast, and took his lonely seat, | ||
+ | And felt the boat speed o'er the tranquil sea | ||
+ | Like a torn cloud before the hurricane. | ||
+ | |||
+ | As one that in a silver vision floats | ||
+ | Obedient to the sweep of odorous winds | ||
+ | Upon resplendent clouds, so rapidly | ||
+ | Along the dark and ruffled waters fled | ||
+ | The straining boat. A whirlwind swept it on, | ||
+ | With fierce gusts and precipitating force, | ||
+ | Through the white ridges of the chafèd sea. | ||
+ | The waves arose. Higher and higher still | ||
+ | Their fierce necks writhed beneath the tempest' | ||
+ | Like serpents struggling in a vulture' | ||
+ | Calm and rejoicing in the fearful war | ||
+ | Of wave ruining on wave, and blast on blast | ||
+ | Descending, and black flood on whirlpool driven | ||
+ | With dark obliterating course, he sate: | ||
+ | As if their genii were the ministers | ||
+ | Appointed to conduct him to the light | ||
+ | Of those belovèd eyes, the Poet sate, | ||
+ | Holding the steady helm. Evening came on; | ||
+ | The beams of sunset hung their rainbow hues | ||
+ | High 'mid the shifting domes of sheeted spray | ||
+ | That canopied his path o'er the waste deep; | ||
+ | Twilight, ascending slowly from the east, | ||
+ | Entwined in duskier wreaths her braided locks | ||
+ | O'er the fair front and radiant eyes of Day; | ||
+ | Night followed, clad with stars. On every side | ||
+ | More horribly the multitudinous streams | ||
+ | Of ocean' | ||
+ | Rushed in dark tumult thundering, as to mock | ||
+ | The calm and spangled sky. The little boat | ||
+ | Still fled before the storm; still fled, like foam | ||
+ | Down the steep cataract of a wintry river; | ||
+ | Now pausing on the edge of the riven wave; | ||
+ | Now leaving far behind the bursting mass | ||
+ | That fell, convulsing ocean; safely fled-- | ||
+ | As if that frail and wasted human form | ||
+ | Had been an elemental god. | ||
+ | |||
+ | At midnight | ||
+ | The moon arose; and lo! the ethereal cliffs | ||
+ | Of Caucasus, whose icy summits shone | ||
+ | Among the stars like sunlight, and around | ||
+ | Whose caverned base the whirlpools and the waves | ||
+ | Bursting and eddying irresistibly | ||
+ | Rage and resound forever.--Who shall save?-- | ||
+ | The boat fled on,--the boiling torrent drove,-- | ||
+ | The crags closed round with black and jagged arms, | ||
+ | The shattered mountain overhung the sea, | ||
+ | And faster still, beyond all human speed, | ||
+ | Suspended on the sweep of the smooth wave, | ||
+ | The little boat was driven. A cavern there | ||
+ | Yawned, and amid its slant and winding depths | ||
+ | Ingulfed the rushing sea. The boat fled on | ||
+ | With unrelaxing speed.--' | ||
+ | The Poet cried aloud, 'I have beheld | ||
+ | The path of thy departure. Sleep and death | ||
+ | Shall not divide us long.' | ||
+ | |||
+ | The boat pursued | ||
+ | The windings of the cavern. Daylight shone | ||
+ | At length upon that gloomy river' | ||
+ | Now, where the fiercest war among the waves | ||
+ | Is calm, on the unfathomable stream | ||
+ | The boat moved slowly. Where the mountain, riven, | ||
+ | Exposed those black depths to the azure sky, | ||
+ | Ere yet the flood' | ||
+ | Even to the base of Caucasus, with sound | ||
+ | That shook the everlasting rocks, the mass | ||
+ | Filled with one whirlpool all that ample chasm; | ||
+ | Stair above stair the eddying waters rose, | ||
+ | Circling immeasurably fast, and laved | ||
+ | With alternating dash the gnarlèd roots | ||
+ | Of mighty trees, that stretched their giant arms | ||
+ | In darkness over it. I' the midst was left, | ||
+ | Reflecting yet distorting every cloud, | ||
+ | A pool of treacherous and tremendous calm. | ||
+ | Seized by the sway of the ascending stream, | ||
+ | With dizzy swiftness, round and round and round, | ||
+ | Ridge after ridge the straining boat arose, | ||
+ | Till on the verge of the extremest curve, | ||
+ | Where through an opening of the rocky bank | ||
+ | The waters overflow, and a smooth spot | ||
+ | Of glassy quiet 'mid those battling tides | ||
+ | Is left, the boat paused shuddering.--Shall it sink | ||
+ | Down the abyss? Shall the reverting stress | ||
+ | Of that resistless gulf embosom it? | ||
+ | Now shall it fall?--A wandering stream of wind | ||
+ | Breathed from the west, has caught the expanded sail, | ||
+ | And, lo! with gentle motion between banks | ||
+ | Of mossy slope, and on a placid stream, | ||
+ | Beneath a woven grove, it sails, and, hark! | ||
+ | The ghastly torrent mingles its far roar | ||
+ | With the breeze murmuring in the musical woods. | ||
+ | Where the embowering trees recede, and leave | ||
+ | A little space of green expanse, the cove | ||
+ | Is closed by meeting banks, whose yellow flowers | ||
+ | Forever gaze on their own drooping eyes, | ||
+ | Reflected in the crystal calm. The wave | ||
+ | Of the boat's motion marred their pensive task, | ||
+ | Which naught but vagrant bird, or wanton wind, | ||
+ | Or falling spear-grass, | ||
+ | Had e'er disturbed before. The Poet longed | ||
+ | To deck with their bright hues his withered hair, | ||
+ | But on his heart its solitude returned, | ||
+ | And he forbore. Not the strong impulse hid | ||
+ | In those flushed cheeks, bent eyes, and shadowy frame, | ||
+ | Had yet performed its ministry; it hung | ||
+ | Upon his life, as lightning in a cloud | ||
+ | Gleams, hovering ere it vanish, ere the floods | ||
+ | Of night close over it. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The noonday sun | ||
+ | Now shone upon the forest, one vast mass | ||
+ | Of mingling shade, whose brown magnificence | ||
+ | A narrow vale embosoms. There, huge caves, | ||
+ | Scooped in the dark base of their aëry rocks, | ||
+ | Mocking its moans, respond and roar forever. | ||
+ | The meeting boughs and implicated leaves | ||
+ | Wove twilight o'er the Poet's path, as, led | ||
+ | By love, or dream, or god, or mightier Death, | ||
+ | He sought in Nature' | ||
+ | Her cradle and his sepulchre. More dark | ||
+ | And dark the shades accumulate. The oak, | ||
+ | Expanding its immense and knotty arms, | ||
+ | Embraces the light beech. The pyramids | ||
+ | Of the tall cedar overarching frame | ||
+ | Most solemn domes within, and far below, | ||
+ | Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky, | ||
+ | The ash and the acacia floating hang | ||
+ | Tremulous and pale. Like restless serpents, clothed | ||
+ | In rainbow and in fire, the parasites, | ||
+ | Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around | ||
+ | The gray trunks, and, as gamesome infants' | ||
+ | With gentle meanings, and most innocent wiles, | ||
+ | Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love, | ||
+ | These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs, | ||
+ | Uniting their close union; the woven leaves | ||
+ | Make network of the dark blue light of day | ||
+ | And the night' | ||
+ | As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns | ||
+ | Beneath these canopies extend their swells, | ||
+ | Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms | ||
+ | Minute yet beautiful. One darkest glen | ||
+ | Sends from its woods of musk-rose twined with jasmine | ||
+ | A soul-dissolving odor to invite | ||
+ | To some more lovely mystery. Through the dell | ||
+ | Silence and Twilight here, twin-sisters, | ||
+ | Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades, | ||
+ | Like vaporous shapes half-seen; beyond, a well, | ||
+ | Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent wave, | ||
+ | Images all the woven boughs above, | ||
+ | And each depending leaf, and every speck | ||
+ | Of azure sky darting between their chasms; | ||
+ | Nor aught else in the liquid mirror laves | ||
+ | Its portraiture, | ||
+ | Between one foliaged lattice twinkling fair, | ||
+ | Or painted bird, sleeping beneath the moon, | ||
+ | Or gorgeous insect floating motionless, | ||
+ | Unconscious of the day, ere yet his wings | ||
+ | Have spread their glories to the gaze of noon. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Hither the Poet came. His eyes beheld | ||
+ | Their own wan light through the reflected lines | ||
+ | Of his thin hair, distinct in the dark depth | ||
+ | Of that still fountain; as the human heart, | ||
+ | Gazing in dreams over the gloomy grave, | ||
+ | Sees its own treacherous likeness there. He heard | ||
+ | The motion of the leaves--the grass that sprung | ||
+ | Startled and glanced and trembled even to feel | ||
+ | An unaccustomed presence--and the sound | ||
+ | Of the sweet brook that from the secret springs | ||
+ | Of that dark fountain rose. A Spirit seemed | ||
+ | To stand beside him--clothed in no bright robes | ||
+ | Of shadowy silver or enshrining light, | ||
+ | Borrowed from aught the visible world affords | ||
+ | Of grace, or majesty, or mystery; | ||
+ | But undulating woods, and silent well, | ||
+ | And leaping rivulet, and evening gloom | ||
+ | Now deepening the dark shades, for speech assuming, | ||
+ | Held commune with him, as if he and it | ||
+ | Were all that was; only--when his regard | ||
+ | Was raised by intense pensiveness--two eyes, | ||
+ | Two starry eyes, hung in the gloom of thought, | ||
+ | And seemed with their serene and azure smiles | ||
+ | To beckon him. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Obedient to the light | ||
+ | That shone within his soul, he went, pursuing | ||
+ | The windings of the dell. The rivulet, | ||
+ | Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine | ||
+ | Beneath the forest flowed. Sometimes it fell | ||
+ | Among the moss with hollow harmony | ||
+ | Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones | ||
+ | It danced, like childhood laughing as it went; | ||
+ | Then, through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, | ||
+ | Reflecting every herb and drooping bud | ||
+ | That overhung its quietness.--' | ||
+ | Whose source is inaccessibly profound, | ||
+ | Whither do thy mysterious waters tend? | ||
+ | Thou imagest my life. Thy darksome stillness, | ||
+ | Thy dazzling waves, thy loud and hollow gulfs, | ||
+ | Thy searchless fountain and invisible course, | ||
+ | Have each their type in me; and the wide sky | ||
+ | And measureless ocean may declare as soon | ||
+ | What oozy cavern or what wandering cloud | ||
+ | Contains thy waters, as the universe | ||
+ | Tell where these living thoughts reside, when stretched | ||
+ | Upon thy flowers my bloodless limbs shall waste | ||
+ | I' the passing wind!' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Beside the grassy shore | ||
+ | Of the small stream he went; he did impress | ||
+ | On the green moss his tremulous step, that caught | ||
+ | Strong shuddering from his burning limbs. As one | ||
+ | Roused by some joyous madness from the couch | ||
+ | Of fever, he did move; yet not like him | ||
+ | Forgetful of the grave, where, when the flame | ||
+ | Of his frail exultation shall be spent, | ||
+ | He must descend. With rapid steps he went | ||
+ | Beneath the shade of trees, beside the flow | ||
+ | Of the wild babbling rivulet; and now | ||
+ | The forest' | ||
+ | For the uniform and lightsome evening sky. | ||
+ | Gray rocks did peep from the spare moss, and stemmed | ||
+ | The struggling brook; tall spires of windlestrae | ||
+ | Threw their thin shadows down the rugged slope, | ||
+ | And nought but gnarlèd roots of ancient pines | ||
+ | Branchless and blasted, clenched with grasping roots | ||
+ | The unwilling soil. A gradual change was here | ||
+ | Yet ghastly. For, as fast years flow away, | ||
+ | The smooth brow gathers, and the hair grows thin | ||
+ | And white, and where irradiate dewy eyes | ||
+ | Had shone, gleam stony orbs:--so from his steps | ||
+ | Bright flowers departed, and the beautiful shade | ||
+ | Of the green groves, with all their odorous winds | ||
+ | And musical motions. Calm he still pursued | ||
+ | The stream, that with a larger volume now | ||
+ | Rolled through the labyrinthine dell; and there | ||
+ | Fretted a path through its descending curves | ||
+ | With its wintry speed. On every side now rose | ||
+ | Rocks, which, in unimaginable forms, | ||
+ | Lifted their black and barren pinnacles | ||
+ | In the light of evening, and its precipice | ||
+ | Obscuring the ravine, disclosed above, | ||
+ | 'Mid toppling stones, black gulfs and yawning caves, | ||
+ | Whose windings gave ten thousand various tongues | ||
+ | To the loud stream. Lo! where the pass expands | ||
+ | Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, | ||
+ | And seems with its accumulated crags | ||
+ | To overhang the world; for wide expand | ||
+ | Beneath the wan stars and descending moon | ||
+ | Islanded seas, blue mountains, mighty streams, | ||
+ | Dim tracts and vast, robed in the lustrous gloom | ||
+ | Of leaden-colored even, and fiery hills | ||
+ | Mingling their flames with twilight, on the verge | ||
+ | Of the remote horizon. The near scene, | ||
+ | In naked and severe simplicity, | ||
+ | Made contrast with the universe. A pine, | ||
+ | Rock-rooted, | ||
+ | Its swinging boughs, to each inconstant blast | ||
+ | Yielding one only response at each pause | ||
+ | In most familiar cadence, with the howl, | ||
+ | The thunder and the hiss of homeless streams | ||
+ | Mingling its solemn song, whilst the broad river | ||
+ | Foaming and hurrying o'er its rugged path, | ||
+ | Fell into that immeasurable void, | ||
+ | Scattering its waters to the passing winds. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yet the gray precipice and solemn pine | ||
+ | And torrent were not all;--one silent nook | ||
+ | Was there. Even on the edge of that vast mountain, | ||
+ | Upheld by knotty roots and fallen rocks, | ||
+ | It overlooked in its serenity | ||
+ | The dark earth and the bending vault of stars. | ||
+ | It was a tranquil spot that seemed to smile | ||
+ | Even in the lap of horror. Ivy clasped | ||
+ | The fissured stones with its entwining arms, | ||
+ | And did embower with leaves forever green | ||
+ | And berries dark the smooth and even space | ||
+ | Of its inviolated floor; and here | ||
+ | The children of the autumnal whirlwind bore | ||
+ | In wanton sport those bright leaves whose decay, | ||
+ | Red, yellow, or ethereally pale, | ||
+ | Rivals the pride of summer. 'T is the haunt | ||
+ | Of every gentle wind whose breath can teach | ||
+ | The wilds to love tranquillity. One step, | ||
+ | One human step alone, has ever broken | ||
+ | The stillness of its solitude; one voice | ||
+ | Alone inspired its echoes; | ||
+ | Which hither came, floating among the winds, | ||
+ | And led the loveliest among human forms | ||
+ | To make their wild haunts the depository | ||
+ | Of all the grace and beauty that endued | ||
+ | Its motions, render up its majesty, | ||
+ | Scatter its music on the unfeeling storm, | ||
+ | And to the damp leaves and blue cavern mould, | ||
+ | Nurses of rainbow flowers and branching moss, | ||
+ | Commit the colors of that varying cheek, | ||
+ | That snowy breast, those dark and drooping eyes. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The dim and hornèd moon hung low, and poured | ||
+ | A sea of lustre on the horizon' | ||
+ | That overflowed its mountains. Yellow mist | ||
+ | Filled the unbounded atmosphere, and drank | ||
+ | Wan moonlight even to fulness; not a star | ||
+ | Shone, not a sound was heard; the very winds, | ||
+ | Danger' | ||
+ | Slept, clasped in his embrace.--O storm of death, | ||
+ | Whose sightless speed divides this sullen night! | ||
+ | And thou, colossal Skeleton, that, still | ||
+ | Guiding its irresistible career | ||
+ | In thy devastating omnipotence, | ||
+ | Art king of this frail world! from the red field | ||
+ | Of slaughter, from the reeking hospital, | ||
+ | The patriot' | ||
+ | Of innocence, the scaffold and the throne, | ||
+ | A mighty voice invokes thee! Ruin calls | ||
+ | His brother Death! A rare and regal prey | ||
+ | He hath prepared, prowling around the world; | ||
+ | Glutted with which thou mayst repose, and men | ||
+ | Go to their graves like flowers or creeping worms, | ||
+ | Nor ever more offer at thy dark shrine | ||
+ | The unheeded tribute of a broken heart. | ||
+ | |||
+ | When on the threshold of the green recess | ||
+ | The wanderer' | ||
+ | Was on him. Yet a little, ere it fled, | ||
+ | Did he resign his high and holy soul | ||
+ | To images of the majestic past, | ||
+ | That paused within his passive being now, | ||
+ | Like winds that bear sweet music, when they breathe | ||
+ | Through some dim latticed chamber. He did place | ||
+ | His pale lean hand upon the rugged trunk | ||
+ | Of the old pine; upon an ivied stone | ||
+ | Reclined his languid head; his limbs did rest, | ||
+ | Diffused and motionless, on the smooth brink | ||
+ | Of that obscurest chasm;--and thus he lay, | ||
+ | Surrendering to their final impulses | ||
+ | The hovering powers of life. Hope and Despair, | ||
+ | The torturers, slept; no mortal pain or fear | ||
+ | Marred his repose; the influxes of sense | ||
+ | And his own being, unalloyed by pain, | ||
+ | Yet feebler and more feeble, calmly fed | ||
+ | The stream of thought, till he lay breathing there | ||
+ | At peace, and faintly smiling. His last sight | ||
+ | Was the great moon, which o'er the western line | ||
+ | Of the wide world her mighty horn suspended, | ||
+ | With whose dun beams inwoven darkness seemed | ||
+ | To mingle. Now upon the jagged hills | ||
+ | It rests; and still as the divided frame | ||
+ | Of the vast meteor sunk, the Poet's blood, | ||
+ | That ever beat in mystic sympathy | ||
+ | With Nature' | ||
+ | And when two lessening points of light alone | ||
+ | Gleamed through the darkness, the alternate gasp | ||
+ | Of his faint respiration scarce did stir | ||
+ | The stagnate night: | ||
+ | Was quenched, the pulse yet lingered in his heart. | ||
+ | It paused--it fluttered. But when heaven remained | ||
+ | Utterly black, the murky shades involved | ||
+ | An image silent, cold, and motionless, | ||
+ | As their own voiceless earth and vacant air. | ||
+ | Even as a vapor fed with golden beams | ||
+ | That ministered on sunlight, ere the west | ||
+ | Eclipses it, was now that wondrous frame-- | ||
+ | No sense, no motion, no divinity-- | ||
+ | A fragile lute, on whose harmonious strings | ||
+ | The breath of heaven did wander--a bright stream | ||
+ | Once fed with many-voicèd waves--a dream | ||
+ | Of youth, which night and time have quenched forever-- | ||
+ | Still, dark, and dry, and unremembered now. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Oh, for Medea' | ||
+ | Which wheresoe' | ||
+ | With bright flowers, and the wintry boughs exhale | ||
+ | From vernal blooms fresh fragrance! Oh, that God, | ||
+ | Profuse of poisons, would concede the chalice | ||
+ | Which but one living man has drained, who now, | ||
+ | Vessel of deathless wrath, a slave that feels | ||
+ | No proud exemption in the blighting curse | ||
+ | He bears, over the world wanders forever, | ||
+ | Lone as incarnate death! Oh, that the dream | ||
+ | Of dark magician in his visioned cave, | ||
+ | Raking the cinders of a crucible | ||
+ | For life and power, even when his feeble hand | ||
+ | Shakes in its last decay, were the true law | ||
+ | Of this so lovely world! But thou art fled, | ||
+ | Like some frail exhalation, which the dawn | ||
+ | Robes in its golden beams,--ah! thou hast fled! | ||
+ | The brave, the gentle and the beautiful, | ||
+ | The child of grace and genius. Heartless things | ||
+ | Are done and said i' the world, and many worms | ||
+ | And beasts and men live on, and mighty Earth | ||
+ | From sea and mountain, city and wilderness, | ||
+ | In vesper low or joyous orison, | ||
+ | Lifts still its solemn voice:--but thou art fled-- | ||
+ | Thou canst no longer know or love the shapes | ||
+ | Of this phantasmal scene, who have to thee | ||
+ | Been purest ministers, who are, alas! | ||
+ | Now thou art not! Upon those pallid lips | ||
+ | So sweet even in their silence, on those eyes | ||
+ | That image sleep in death, upon that form | ||
+ | Yet safe from the worm's outrage, let no tear | ||
+ | Be shed--not even in thought. Nor, when those hues | ||
+ | Are gone, and those divinest lineaments, | ||
+ | Worn by the senseless wind, shall live alone | ||
+ | In the frail pauses of this simple strain, | ||
+ | Let not high verse, mourning the memory | ||
+ | Of that which is no more, or painting' | ||
+ | Or sculpture, speak in feeble imagery | ||
+ | Their own cold powers. Art and eloquence, | ||
+ | And all the shows o' the world, are frail and vain | ||
+ | To weep a loss that turns their lights to shade. | ||
+ | It is a woe "too deep for tears," | ||
+ | Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit, | ||
+ | Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves | ||
+ | Those who remain behind, not sobs or groans, | ||
+ | The passionate tumult of a clinging hope; | ||
+ | But pale despair and cold tranquillity, | ||
+ | Nature' | ||
+ | Birth and the grave, that are not as they were.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++48 Epipsychidion (excerpt)| | ++++48 Epipsychidion (excerpt)| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | A ship is floating in the harbour now, | ||
+ | A wind is hovering o'er the mountain' | ||
+ | There is a path on the sea's azure floor, | ||
+ | No keel has ever plough' | ||
+ | The halcyons brood around the foamless isles; | ||
+ | The treacherous Ocean has forsworn its wiles; | ||
+ | The merry mariners are bold and free: | ||
+ | Say, my heart' | ||
+ | Our bark is as an albatross, whose nest | ||
+ | Is a far Eden of the purple East; | ||
+ | And we between her wings will sit, while Night, | ||
+ | And Day, and Storm, and Calm, pursue their flight, | ||
+ | Our ministers, along the boundless Sea, | ||
+ | Treading each other' | ||
+ | It is an isle under Ionian skies, | ||
+ | Beautiful as a wreck of Paradise, | ||
+ | And, for the harbours are not safe and good, | ||
+ | This land would have remain' | ||
+ | But for some pastoral people native there, | ||
+ | Who from the Elysian, clear, and golden air | ||
+ | Draw the last spirit of the age of gold, | ||
+ | Simple and spirited; innocent and bold. | ||
+ | The blue Aegean girds this chosen home, | ||
+ | With ever-changing sound and light and foam, | ||
+ | Kissing the sifted sands, and caverns hoar; | ||
+ | And all the winds wandering along the shore | ||
+ | Undulate with the undulating tide: | ||
+ | There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide; | ||
+ | And many a fountain, rivulet and pond, | ||
+ | As clear as elemental diamond, | ||
+ | Or serene morning air; and far beyond, | ||
+ | The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer | ||
+ | (Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year) | ||
+ | Pierce into glades, caverns and bowers, and halls | ||
+ | Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls | ||
+ | Illumining, with sound that never fails | ||
+ | Accompany the noonday nightingales; | ||
+ | And all the place is peopled with sweet airs; | ||
+ | The light clear element which the isle wears | ||
+ | Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers, | ||
+ | Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers, | ||
+ | And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep; | ||
+ | And from the moss violets and jonquils peep | ||
+ | And dart their arrowy odour through the brain | ||
+ | Till you might faint with that delicious pain. | ||
+ | And every motion, odour, beam and tone, | ||
+ | With that deep music is in unison: | ||
+ | Which is a soul within the soul--they seem | ||
+ | Like echoes of an antenatal dream. | ||
+ | It is an isle 'twixt Heaven, Air, Earth and Sea, | ||
+ | Cradled and hung in clear tranquillity; | ||
+ | Bright as that wandering Eden Lucifer, | ||
+ | Wash'd by the soft blue Oceans of young air. | ||
+ | It is a favour' | ||
+ | Pestilence, War and Earthquake, never light | ||
+ | Upon its mountain-peaks; | ||
+ | Sail onward far upon their fatal way: | ||
+ | The wingèd storms, chanting their thunder-psalm | ||
+ | To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm | ||
+ | Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew, | ||
+ | From which its fields and woods ever renew | ||
+ | Their green and golden immortality. | ||
+ | And from the sea there rise, and from the sky | ||
+ | There fall, clear exhalations, | ||
+ | Veil after veil, each hiding some delight, | ||
+ | Which Sun or Moon or zephyr draw aside, | ||
+ | Till the isle's beauty, like a naked bride | ||
+ | Glowing at once with love and loveliness, | ||
+ | Blushes and trembles at its own excess: | ||
+ | Yet, like a buried lamp, a Soul no less | ||
+ | Burns in the heart of this delicious isle, | ||
+ | An atom of th' Eternal, whose own smile | ||
+ | Unfolds itself, and may be felt not seen | ||
+ | O'er the gray rocks, blue waves and forests green, | ||
+ | Filling their bare and void interstices. | ||
+ | But the chief marvel of the wilderness | ||
+ | Is a lone dwelling, built by whom or how | ||
+ | None of the rustic island-people know: | ||
+ | 'Tis not a tower of strength, though with its height | ||
+ | It overtops the woods; but, for delight, | ||
+ | Some wise and tender Ocean-King, ere crime | ||
+ | Had been invented, in the world' | ||
+ | Rear'd it, a wonder of that simple time, | ||
+ | An envy of the isles, a pleasure-house | ||
+ | Made sacred to his sister and his spouse. | ||
+ | It scarce seems now a wreck of human art, | ||
+ | But, as it were, Titanic; in the heart | ||
+ | Of Earth having assum' | ||
+ | Out of the mountains, from the living stone, | ||
+ | Lifting itself in caverns light and high: | ||
+ | For all the antique and learned imagery | ||
+ | Has been eras' | ||
+ | The ivy and the wild-vine interknit | ||
+ | The volumes of their many-twining stems; | ||
+ | Parasite flowers illume with dewy gems | ||
+ | The lampless halls, and when they fade, the sky | ||
+ | Peeps through their winter-woof of tracery | ||
+ | With moonlight patches, or star atoms keen, | ||
+ | Or fragments of the day's intense serene; | ||
+ | Working mosaic on their Parian floors. | ||
+ | And, day and night, aloof, from the high towers | ||
+ | And terraces, the Earth and Ocean seem | ||
+ | To sleep in one another' | ||
+ | Of waves, flowers, clouds, woods, rocks, and all that we | ||
+ | Read in their smiles, and call reality. | ||
+ | This isle and house are mine, and I have vow'd | ||
+ | Thee to be lady of the solitude. | ||
+ | And I have fitted up some chambers there | ||
+ | Looking towards the golden Eastern air, | ||
+ | And level with the living winds, which flow | ||
+ | Like waves above the living waves below. | ||
+ | I have sent books and music there, and all | ||
+ | Those instruments with which high Spirits call | ||
+ | The future from its cradle, and the past | ||
+ | Out of its grave, and make the present last | ||
+ | In thoughts and joys which sleep, but cannot die, | ||
+ | Folded within their own eternity. | ||
+ | Our simple life wants little, and true taste | ||
+ | Hires not the pale drudge Luxury to waste | ||
+ | The scene it would adorn, and therefore still, | ||
+ | Nature with all her children haunts the hill. | ||
+ | The ring-dove, in the embowering ivy, yet | ||
+ | Keeps up her love-lament, | ||
+ | Round the evening tower, and the young stars glance | ||
+ | Between the quick bats in their twilight dance; | ||
+ | The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight | ||
+ | Before our gate, and the slow, silent night | ||
+ | Is measur' | ||
+ | Be this our home in life, and when years heap | ||
+ | Their wither' | ||
+ | Let us become the overhanging day, | ||
+ | The living soul of this Elysian isle, | ||
+ | Conscious, inseparable, | ||
+ | We two will rise, and sit, and walk together, | ||
+ | Under the roof of blue Ionian weather, | ||
+ | And wander in the meadows, or ascend | ||
+ | The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend | ||
+ | With lightest winds, to touch their paramour; | ||
+ | Or linger, where the pebble-paven shore, | ||
+ | Under the quick, faint kisses of the sea, | ||
+ | Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy-- | ||
+ | Possessing and possess' | ||
+ | Within that calm circumference of bliss, | ||
+ | And by each other, till to love and live | ||
+ | Be one: or, at the noontide hour, arrive | ||
+ | Where some old cavern hoar seems yet to keep | ||
+ | The moonlight of the expir' | ||
+ | Through which the awaken' | ||
+ | A veil for our seclusion, close as night' | ||
+ | Where secure sleep may kill thine innocent lights; | ||
+ | Sleep, the fresh dew of languid love, the rain | ||
+ | Whose drops quench kisses till they burn again. | ||
+ | And we will talk, until thought' | ||
+ | Become too sweet for utterance, and it die | ||
+ | In words, to live again in looks, which dart | ||
+ | With thrilling tone into the voiceless heart, | ||
+ | Harmonizing silence without a sound. | ||
+ | Our breath shall intermix, our bosoms bound, | ||
+ | And our veins beat together; and our lips | ||
+ | With other eloquence than words, eclipse | ||
+ | The soul that burns between them, and the wells | ||
+ | Which boil under our being' | ||
+ | The fountains of our deepest life, shall be | ||
+ | Confus' | ||
+ | As mountain-springs under the morning sun. | ||
+ | We shall become the same, we shall be one | ||
+ | Spirit within two frames, oh! wherefore two? | ||
+ | One passion in twin-hearts, | ||
+ | Till like two meteors of expanding flame, | ||
+ | Those spheres instinct with it become the same, | ||
+ | Touch, mingle, are transfigur' | ||
+ | Burning, yet ever inconsumable: | ||
+ | In one another' | ||
+ | Like flames too pure and light and unimbu' | ||
+ | To nourish their bright lives with baser prey, | ||
+ | Which point to Heaven and cannot pass away: | ||
+ | One hope within two wills, one will beneath | ||
+ | Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death, | ||
+ | One Heaven, one Hell, one immortality, | ||
+ | And one annihilation. Woe is me! | ||
+ | The winged words on which my soul would pierce | ||
+ | Into the height of Love's rare Universe, | ||
+ | Are chains of lead around its flight of fire-- | ||
+ | I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++49 Lines Written Among The Euganean Hills| | ++++49 Lines Written Among The Euganean Hills| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | In the deep wide sea of Misery, | ||
+ | Or the mariner, worn and wan, | ||
+ | Never thus could voyage on - | ||
+ | Day and night, and night and day, | ||
+ | Drifting on his dreary way, | ||
+ | With the solid darkness black | ||
+ | Closing round his vessel' | ||
+ | Whilst above the sunless sky, | ||
+ | Big with clouds, hangs heavily, | ||
+ | And behind the tempest fleet | ||
+ | Hurries on with lightning feet, | ||
+ | He is ever drifted on | ||
+ | O'er the unreposing wave | ||
+ | To the haven of the grave. | ||
+ | What, if there no friends will greet; | ||
+ | What, if there no heart will meet | ||
+ | His with love's impatient beat; | ||
+ | Wander wheresoe' | ||
+ | Can he dream before that day | ||
+ | To find refuge from distress | ||
+ | In friendship' | ||
+ | Then 'twill wreak him little woe | ||
+ | Whether such there be or no: | ||
+ | Senseless is the breast, and cold, | ||
+ | Which relenting love would fold; | ||
+ | Bloodless are the veins and chill | ||
+ | Which the pulse of pain did fill; | ||
+ | Every little living nerve | ||
+ | That from bitter words did swerve | ||
+ | Round the tortured lips and brow, | ||
+ | Are like sapless leaflets now | ||
+ | Frozen upon December' | ||
+ | |||
+ | On the beach of a northern sea | ||
+ | Which tempests shake eternally, | ||
+ | As once the wretch there lay to sleep, | ||
+ | Lies a solitary heap, | ||
+ | One white skull and seven dry bones, | ||
+ | On the margin of the stones, | ||
+ | Where a few grey rushes stand, | ||
+ | Boundaries of the sea and land: | ||
+ | Nor is heard one voice of wail | ||
+ | But the sea-mews, as they sail | ||
+ | O'er the billows of the gale; | ||
+ | Or the whirlwind up and down | ||
+ | Howling, like a slaughtered town, | ||
+ | When a king in glory rides | ||
+ | Through the pomp and fratricides: | ||
+ | Those unburied bones around | ||
+ | There is many a mournful sound; | ||
+ | There is no lament for him, | ||
+ | Like a sunless vapour, dim, | ||
+ | Who once clothed with life and thought | ||
+ | What now moves nor murmurs not. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ay, many flowering islands lie | ||
+ | In the waters of wide Agony: | ||
+ | To such a one this morn was led, | ||
+ | My bark by soft winds piloted: | ||
+ | 'Mid the mountains Euganean | ||
+ | I stood listening to the paean | ||
+ | With which the legioned rooks did hail | ||
+ | The sun's uprise majestical; | ||
+ | Gathering round with wings all hoar, | ||
+ | Through the dewy mist they soar | ||
+ | Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven | ||
+ | Bursts, and then, as clouds of even, | ||
+ | Flecked with fire and azure, lie | ||
+ | In the unfathomable sky, | ||
+ | So their plumes of purple grain, | ||
+ | Starred with drops of golden rain, | ||
+ | Gleam above the sunlight woods, | ||
+ | As in silent multitudes | ||
+ | On the morning' | ||
+ | Through the broken mist they sail, | ||
+ | And the vapours cloven and gleaming | ||
+ | Follow, down the dark steep streaming, | ||
+ | Till all is bright, and clear, and still, | ||
+ | Round the solitary hill. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Beneath is spread like a green sea | ||
+ | The waveless plain of Lombardy, | ||
+ | Bounded by the vaporous air, | ||
+ | Islanded by cities fair; | ||
+ | Underneath Day's azure eyes | ||
+ | Ocean' | ||
+ | A peopled labyrinth of walls, | ||
+ | Amphitrite' | ||
+ | Which her hoary sire now paves | ||
+ | With his blue and beaming waves. | ||
+ | Lo! the sun upsprings behind, | ||
+ | Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined | ||
+ | On the level quivering line | ||
+ | Of the waters crystalline; | ||
+ | And before that chasm of light, | ||
+ | As within a furnace bright, | ||
+ | Column, tower, and dome, and spire, | ||
+ | Shine like obelisks of fire, | ||
+ | Pointing with inconstant motion | ||
+ | From the altar of dark ocean | ||
+ | To the sapphire-tinted skies; | ||
+ | As the flames of sacrifice | ||
+ | From the marble shrines did rise, | ||
+ | As to pierce the dome of gold | ||
+ | Where Apollo spoke of old. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Sea-girt City, thou hast been | ||
+ | Ocean' | ||
+ | Now is come a darker day, | ||
+ | And thou soon must be his prey, | ||
+ | If the power that raised thee here | ||
+ | Hallow so thy watery bier. | ||
+ | A less drear ruin then than now, | ||
+ | With thy conquest-branded brow | ||
+ | Stooping to the slave of slaves | ||
+ | From thy throne, among the waves | ||
+ | Wilt thou be, when the sea-mew | ||
+ | Flies, as once before it flew, | ||
+ | O'er thine isles depopulate, | ||
+ | And all is in its ancient state, | ||
+ | Save where many a palace gate | ||
+ | With green sea-flowers overgrown | ||
+ | Like a rock of Ocean' | ||
+ | Topples o'er the abandoned sea | ||
+ | As the tides change sullenly. | ||
+ | The fisher on his watery way, | ||
+ | Wandering at the close of day, | ||
+ | Will spread his sail and seize his oar | ||
+ | Till he pass the gloomy shore, | ||
+ | Lest thy dead should, from their sleep | ||
+ | Bursting o'er the starlight deep, | ||
+ | Lead a rapid masque of death | ||
+ | O'er the waters of his path. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Those who alone thy towers behold | ||
+ | Quivering through aereal gold, | ||
+ | As I now behold them here, | ||
+ | Would imagine not they were | ||
+ | Sepulchres, where human forms, | ||
+ | Like pollution-nourished worms, | ||
+ | To the corpse of greatness cling, | ||
+ | Murdered, and now mouldering: | ||
+ | But if Freedom should awake | ||
+ | In her omnipotence and shake | ||
+ | From the Celtic Anarch' | ||
+ | All the keys of dungeons cold, | ||
+ | Where a hundred cities lie | ||
+ | Chained like thee, ingloriously, | ||
+ | Thou and all thy sister band | ||
+ | Might adorn this sunny land, | ||
+ | Twining memories of old time | ||
+ | With new virtues more sublime; | ||
+ | If not, perish thou ldering: | ||
+ | But if Freedom should awake | ||
+ | In her omnipotence and shake | ||
+ | From the Celtic Anarch' | ||
+ | All the keys of dungeons cold, | ||
+ | Where a hundred cities lie | ||
+ | Chained like thee, ingloriously, | ||
+ | Thou and all thy sister band | ||
+ | Might adorn this sunny land, | ||
+ | Twining memories of old time | ||
+ | With new virtues more sublime; | ||
+ | If not, perish thou and they! - | ||
+ | Clouds which stain truth' | ||
+ | By her sun consumed away - | ||
+ | Earth can spare ye; while like flowers, | ||
+ | In the waste of years and hours, | ||
+ | From your dust new nations spring | ||
+ | With more kindly blossoming. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Perish -let there only be | ||
+ | Floating o'er thy heartless sea | ||
+ | As the garment of thy sky | ||
+ | Clothes the world immortally, | ||
+ | One remembrance, | ||
+ | Than the tattered pall of time, | ||
+ | Which scarce hides thy visage wan; - | ||
+ | That a tempest-cleaving Swan | ||
+ | Of the sons of Albion, | ||
+ | Driven from his ancestral streams | ||
+ | By the might of evil dreams, | ||
+ | Found a nest in thee; and Ocean | ||
+ | Welcomed him with such emotion | ||
+ | That its joy grew his, and sprung | ||
+ | From his lips like music flung | ||
+ | O'er a mighty thunder-fit, | ||
+ | Chastening terror: -what though yet | ||
+ | Poesy' | ||
+ | Which through Albion winds forever | ||
+ | Lashing with melodious wave | ||
+ | Many a sacred Poet's grave, | ||
+ | Mourn its latest nursling fled? | ||
+ | What though thou with all thy dead | ||
+ | Scarce can for this fame repay | ||
+ | Aught thine own? oh, rather say | ||
+ | Though thy sins and slaveries foul | ||
+ | Overcloud a sunlike soul? | ||
+ | As the ghost of Homer clings | ||
+ | Round Scamander' | ||
+ | As divinest Shakespeare' | ||
+ | Fills Avon and the world with light | ||
+ | Like omniscient power which he | ||
+ | Imaged 'mid mortality; | ||
+ | As the love from Petrarch' | ||
+ | Yet amid yon hills doth burn, | ||
+ | A quenchless lamp by which the heart | ||
+ | Sees things unearthly; -so thou art, | ||
+ | Mighty spirit -so shall be | ||
+ | The City that did refuge thee. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Lo, the sun floats up the sky | ||
+ | Like thought-winged Liberty, | ||
+ | Till the universal light | ||
+ | Seems to level plain and height; | ||
+ | From the sea a mist has spread, | ||
+ | And the beams of morn lie dead | ||
+ | On the towers of Venice now, | ||
+ | Like its glory long ago. | ||
+ | By the skirts of that gray cloud | ||
+ | Many-domed Padua proud | ||
+ | Stands, a peopled solitude, | ||
+ | 'Mid the harvest-shining plain, | ||
+ | Where the peasant heaps his grain | ||
+ | In the garner of his foe, | ||
+ | And the milk-white oxen slow | ||
+ | With the purple vintage strain, | ||
+ | Heaped upon the creaking wain, | ||
+ | That the brutal Celt may swill | ||
+ | Drunken sleep with savage will; | ||
+ | And the sickle to the sword | ||
+ | Lies unchanged, though many a lord, | ||
+ | Like a weed whose shade is poison, | ||
+ | Overgrows this region' | ||
+ | Sheaves of whom are ripe to come | ||
+ | To destruction' | ||
+ | Men must reap the things they sow, | ||
+ | Force from force must ever flow, | ||
+ | Or worse; but 'tis a bitter woe | ||
+ | That love or reason cannot change | ||
+ | The despot' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Padua, thou within whose walls | ||
+ | Those mute guests at festivals, | ||
+ | Son and Mother, Death and Sin, | ||
+ | Played at dice for Ezzelin, | ||
+ | Till Death cried, "I win, I win!" | ||
+ | And Sin cursed to lose the wager, | ||
+ | But Death promised, to assuage her, | ||
+ | That he would petition for | ||
+ | Her to be made Vice-Emperor, | ||
+ | When the destined years were o'er, | ||
+ | Over all between the Po | ||
+ | And the eastern Alpine snow, | ||
+ | Under the mighty Austrian. | ||
+ | She smiled so as Sin only can, | ||
+ | And since that time, ay, long before, | ||
+ | Both have ruled from shore to shore, - | ||
+ | That incestuous pair, who follow | ||
+ | Tyrants as the sun the swallow, | ||
+ | As Repentance follows Crime, | ||
+ | And as changes follow Time. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In thine halls the lamp of learning, | ||
+ | Padua, now no more is burning; | ||
+ | Like a meteor, whose wild way | ||
+ | Is lost over the grave of day, | ||
+ | It gleams betrayed and to betray: | ||
+ | Once remotest nations came | ||
+ | To adore that sacred flame, | ||
+ | When it lit not many a hearth | ||
+ | On this cold and gloomy earth: | ||
+ | Now new fires from antique light | ||
+ | Spring beneath the wide world' | ||
+ | But their spark lies dead in thee, | ||
+ | Trampled out by Tyranny. | ||
+ | As the Norway woodman quells, | ||
+ | In the depth of piny dells, | ||
+ | One light flame among the brakes, | ||
+ | While the boundless forest shakes, | ||
+ | And its mighty trunks are torn | ||
+ | By the fire thus lowly born: | ||
+ | The spark beneath his feet is dead, | ||
+ | He starts to see the flames it fed | ||
+ | Howling through the darkened sky | ||
+ | With a myriad tongues victoriously, | ||
+ | And sinks down in fear: so thou, | ||
+ | O Tyranny, beholdest now | ||
+ | Light around thee, and thou hearest | ||
+ | The loud flames ascend, and fearest: | ||
+ | Grovel on the earth; ay, hide | ||
+ | In the dust thy purple pride! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Noon descends around me now: | ||
+ | 'Tis the noon of autumn' | ||
+ | When a soft and purple mist | ||
+ | Like a vapourous amethyst, | ||
+ | Or an air-dissolved star | ||
+ | Mingling light and fragrance, far | ||
+ | From the curved horizon' | ||
+ | To the point of Heaven' | ||
+ | Fills the overflowing sky; | ||
+ | And the plains that silent lie | ||
+ | Underneath the leaves unsodden | ||
+ | Where the infant Frost has trodden | ||
+ | With his morning-winged feet, | ||
+ | Whose bright print is gleaming yet; | ||
+ | And the red and golden vines, | ||
+ | Piercing with their trellised lines | ||
+ | The rough, dark-skirted wilderness; | ||
+ | The dun and bladed grass no less, | ||
+ | Pointing from this hoary tower | ||
+ | In the windless air; the flower | ||
+ | Glimmering at my feet; the line | ||
+ | Of the olive-sandalled Apennine | ||
+ | In the south dimly islanded; | ||
+ | And the Alps, whose snows are spread | ||
+ | High between the clouds and sun; | ||
+ | And of living things each one; | ||
+ | And my spirit which so long | ||
+ | Darkened this swift stream of song, - | ||
+ | Interpenetrated lie | ||
+ | By the glory of the sky: | ||
+ | Be it love, light, harmony, | ||
+ | Odour, or the soul of all | ||
+ | Which from Heaven like dew doth fall, | ||
+ | Or the mind which feeds this verse | ||
+ | Peopling the lone universe. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Noon descends, and after noon | ||
+ | Autumn' | ||
+ | Leading the infantine moon, | ||
+ | And that one star, which to her | ||
+ | Almost seems to minister | ||
+ | Half the crimson light she brings | ||
+ | From the sunset' | ||
+ | And the soft dreams of the morn | ||
+ | (Which like winged winds had borne | ||
+ | To that silent isle, which lies | ||
+ | Mid remembered agonies, | ||
+ | The frail bark of this lone being) | ||
+ | Pass, to other sufferers fleeing, | ||
+ | And its ancient pilot, Pain, | ||
+ | Sits beside the helm again. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Other flowering isles must be | ||
+ | In the sea of Life and Agony: | ||
+ | Other spirits float and flee | ||
+ | O'er that gulf: even now, perhaps, | ||
+ | On some rock the wild wave wraps, | ||
+ | With folded wings they waiting sit | ||
+ | For my bark, to pilot it | ||
+ | To some calm and blooming cove, | ||
+ | Where for me, and those I love, | ||
+ | May a windless bower be built, | ||
+ | Far from passion, pain, and guilt, | ||
+ | In a dell mid lawny hills, | ||
+ | Which the wild sea-murmur fills, | ||
+ | And soft sunshine, and the sound | ||
+ | Of old forests echoing round, | ||
+ | And the light and smell divine | ||
+ | Of all flowers that breathe and shine: | ||
+ | We may live so happy there, | ||
+ | That the Spirits of the Air, | ||
+ | Envying us, may even entice | ||
+ | To our healing Paradise | ||
+ | The polluting multitude; | ||
+ | But their rage would be subdued | ||
+ | By that clime divine and calm, | ||
+ | And the winds whose wings rain balm | ||
+ | On the uplifted soul, and leaves | ||
+ | Under which the bright sea heaves; | ||
+ | While each breathless interval | ||
+ | In their whisperings musical | ||
+ | The inspired soul supplies | ||
+ | With its own deep melodies; | ||
+ | And the love which heals all strife | ||
+ | Circling, like the breath of life, | ||
+ | All things in that sweet abode | ||
+ | With its own mild brotherhood: | ||
+ | They, not it, would change; and soon | ||
+ | Every sprite beneath the moon | ||
+ | Would repent its envy vain, | ||
+ | And the earth grow young again. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++50 Song Of Proserpine| | ++++50 Song Of Proserpine| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Thou from whose immortal bosom | ||
+ | Gods and men and beasts have birth, | ||
+ | Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, | ||
+ | Breathe thine influence most divine | ||
+ | On thine own child, Proserpine. | ||
+ | If with mists of evening dew | ||
+ | Thou dost nourish these young flowers | ||
+ | Till they grow in scent and hue | ||
+ | Fairest children of the Hours, | ||
+ | Breathe thine influence most divine | ||
+ | On thine own child, Proserpine. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++51 Julian and Maddalo (excerpt)| | ++++51 Julian and Maddalo (excerpt)| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow | ||
+ | Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand | ||
+ | Of hillocks, heap'd from ever-shifting sand, | ||
+ | Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds, | ||
+ | Such as from earth' | ||
+ | Is this; an uninhabited sea-side, | ||
+ | Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, | ||
+ | Abandons; and no other object breaks | ||
+ | The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes | ||
+ | Broken and unrepair' | ||
+ | A narrow space of level sand thereon, | ||
+ | Where 'twas our wont to ride while day went down. | ||
+ | This ride was my delight. I love all waste | ||
+ | And solitary places; where we taste | ||
+ | The pleasure of believing what we see | ||
+ | Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be: | ||
+ | And such was this wide ocean, and this shore | ||
+ | More barren than its billows; and yet more | ||
+ | Than all, with a remember' | ||
+ | To ride as then I rode; for the winds drove | ||
+ | The living spray along the sunny air | ||
+ | Into our faces; the blue heavens were bare, | ||
+ | Stripp' | ||
+ | And, from the waves, sound like delight broke forth | ||
+ | Harmonizing with solitude, and sent | ||
+ | Into our hearts aëreal merriment. | ||
+ | So, as we rode, we talk' | ||
+ | Winging itself with laughter, linger' | ||
+ | But flew from brain to brain--such glee was ours, | ||
+ | Charg' | ||
+ | None slow enough for sadness: till we came | ||
+ | Homeward, which always makes the spirit tame. | ||
+ | This day had been cheerful but cold, and now | ||
+ | The sun was sinking, and the wind also. | ||
+ | Our talk grew somewhat serious, as may be | ||
+ | Talk interrupted with such raillery | ||
+ | As mocks itself, because it cannot scorn | ||
+ | The thoughts it would extinguish: 'twas forlorn, | ||
+ | Yet pleasing, such as once, so poets tell, | ||
+ | The devils held within the dales of Hell | ||
+ | Concerning God, freewill and destiny: | ||
+ | Of all that earth has been or yet may be, | ||
+ | All that vain men imagine or believe, | ||
+ | Or hope can paint or suffering may achieve, | ||
+ | We descanted, and I (for ever still | ||
+ | Is it not wise to make the best of ill?) | ||
+ | Argu'd against despondency, | ||
+ | Made my companion take the darker side. | ||
+ | The sense that he was greater than his kind | ||
+ | Had struck, methinks, his eagle spirit blind | ||
+ | By gazing on its own exceeding light. | ||
+ | Meanwhile the sun paus'd ere it should alight, | ||
+ | Over the horizon of the mountains--Oh, | ||
+ | How beautiful is sunset, when the glow | ||
+ | Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee, | ||
+ | Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy! | ||
+ | Thy mountains, seas, and vineyards, and the towers | ||
+ | Of cities they encircle! It was ours | ||
+ | To stand on thee, beholding it: and then, | ||
+ | Just where we had dismounted, the Count' | ||
+ | Were waiting for us with the gondola. | ||
+ | As those who pause on some delightful way | ||
+ | Though bent on pleasant pilgrimage, we stood | ||
+ | Looking upon the evening, and the flood | ||
+ | Which lay between the city and the shore, | ||
+ | Pav'd with the image of the sky.... The hoar | ||
+ | And aëry Alps towards the North appear' | ||
+ | Through mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark rear'd | ||
+ | Between the East and West; and half the sky | ||
+ | Was roof'd with clouds of rich emblazonry | ||
+ | Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew | ||
+ | Down the steep West into a wondrous hue | ||
+ | Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent | ||
+ | Where the swift sun yet paus'd in his descent | ||
+ | Among the many-folded hills: they were | ||
+ | Those famous Euganean hills, which bear, | ||
+ | As seen from Lido thro' the harbour piles, | ||
+ | The likeness of a clump of peakèd isles-- | ||
+ | And then--as if the Earth and Sea had been | ||
+ | Dissolv' | ||
+ | Those mountains towering as from waves of flame | ||
+ | Around the vaporous sun, from which there came | ||
+ | The inmost purple spirit of light, and made | ||
+ | Their very peaks transparent. "Ere it fade," | ||
+ | Said my companion, "I will show you soon | ||
+ | A better station" | ||
+ | We glided; and from that funereal bark | ||
+ | I lean' | ||
+ | How from their many isles, in evening' | ||
+ | Its temples and its palaces did seem | ||
+ | Like fabrics of enchantment pil'd to Heaven. | ||
+ | I was about to speak, when--" | ||
+ | Now at the point I meant," | ||
+ | And bade the gondolieri cease to row. | ||
+ | "Look, Julian, on the west, and listen well | ||
+ | If you hear not a deep and heavy bell." | ||
+ | I look' | ||
+ | A building on an island; such a one | ||
+ | As age to age might add, for uses vile, | ||
+ | A windowless, deform' | ||
+ | And on the top an open tower, where hung | ||
+ | A bell, which in the radiance sway'd and swung; | ||
+ | We could just hear its hoarse and iron tongue: | ||
+ | The broad sun sunk behind it, and it toll'd | ||
+ | In strong and black relief. "What we behold | ||
+ | Shall be the madhouse and its belfry tower," | ||
+ | Said Maddalo, "and ever at this hour | ||
+ | Those who may cross the water, hear that bell | ||
+ | Which calls the maniacs, each one from his cell, | ||
+ | To vespers." | ||
+ | In thanks or hope for their dark lot have they | ||
+ | To their stern Maker," | ||
+ | You talk as in years past," said Maddalo. | ||
+ | " 'Tis strange men change not. You were ever still | ||
+ | Among Christ' | ||
+ | A wolf for the meek lambs--if you can't swim | ||
+ | Beware of Providence." | ||
+ | But the gay smile had faded in his eye. | ||
+ | "And such," he cried, "is our mortality, | ||
+ | And this must be the emblem and the sign | ||
+ | Of what should be eternal and divine! | ||
+ | And like that black and dreary bell, the soul, | ||
+ | Hung in a heaven-illumin' | ||
+ | Our thoughts and our desires to meet below | ||
+ | Round the rent heart and pray--as madmen do | ||
+ | For what? they know not--till the night of death, | ||
+ | As sunset that strange vision, severeth | ||
+ | Our memory from itself, and us from all | ||
+ | We sought and yet were baffled." | ||
+ | The sense of what he said, although I mar | ||
+ | The force of his expressions. The broad star | ||
+ | Of day meanwhile had sunk behind the hill, | ||
+ | And the black bell became invisible, | ||
+ | And the red tower look'd gray, and all between | ||
+ | The churches, ships and palaces were seen | ||
+ | Huddled in gloom; | ||
+ | The orange hues of heaven sunk silently. | ||
+ | We hardly spoke, and soon the gondola | ||
+ | Convey' | ||
+ | The following morn was rainy, cold and dim: | ||
+ | Ere Maddalo arose, I call'd on him, | ||
+ | And whilst I waited with his child I play' | ||
+ | A lovelier toy sweet Nature never made, | ||
+ | A serious, subtle, wild, yet gentle being, | ||
+ | Graceful without design and unforeseeing, | ||
+ | With eyes--Oh speak not of her eyes!--which seem | ||
+ | Twin mirrors of Italian Heaven, yet gleam | ||
+ | With such deep meaning, as we never see | ||
+ | But in the human countenance: | ||
+ | She was a special favourite: I had nurs'd | ||
+ | Her fine and feeble limbs when she came first | ||
+ | To this bleak world; and she yet seem'd to know | ||
+ | On second sight her ancient playfellow, | ||
+ | Less chang' | ||
+ | For after her first shyness was worn out | ||
+ | We sate there, rolling billiard balls about, | ||
+ | When the Count enter' | ||
+ | "The word you spoke last night might well have cast | ||
+ | A darkness on my spirit--if man be | ||
+ | The passive thing you say, I should not see | ||
+ | Much harm in the religions and old saws | ||
+ | (Though I may never own such leaden laws) | ||
+ | Which break a teachless nature to the yoke: | ||
+ | Mine is another faith" | ||
+ | And noting he replied not, added: "See | ||
+ | This lovely child, blithe, innocent and free; | ||
+ | She spends a happy time with little care, | ||
+ | While we to such sick thoughts subjected are | ||
+ | As came on you last night. It is our will | ||
+ | That thus enchains us to permitted ill. | ||
+ | We might be otherwise. We might be all | ||
+ | We dream of happy, high, majestical. | ||
+ | Where is the love, beauty, and truth we seek | ||
+ | But in our mind? and if we were not weak | ||
+ | Should we be less in deed than in desire?" | ||
+ | "Ay, if we were not weak--and we aspire | ||
+ | How vainly to be strong!" | ||
+ | "You talk Utopia." | ||
+ | I then rejoin' | ||
+ | How strong the chains are which our spirit bind; | ||
+ | Brittle perchance as straw.... We are assur' | ||
+ | Much may be conquer' | ||
+ | Of what degrades and crushes us. We know | ||
+ | That we have power over ourselves to do | ||
+ | And suffer--what, | ||
+ | But something nobler than to live and die: | ||
+ | So taught those kings of old philosophy | ||
+ | Who reign' | ||
+ | And those who suffer with their suffering kind | ||
+ | Yet feel their faith, religion." | ||
+ | Said Maddalo, "my judgement will not bend | ||
+ | To your opinion, though I think you might | ||
+ | Make such a system refutation-tight | ||
+ | As far as words go. I knew one like you | ||
+ | Who to this city came some months ago, | ||
+ | With whom I argu'd in this sort, and he | ||
+ | Is now gone mad--and so he answer' | ||
+ | Poor fellow! but if you would like to go | ||
+ | We'll visit him, and his wild talk will show | ||
+ | How vain are such aspiring theories." | ||
+ | "I hope to prove the induction otherwise, | ||
+ | And that a want of that true theory, still, | ||
+ | Which seeks a 'soul of goodness' | ||
+ | Or in himself or others, has thus bow'd | ||
+ | His being. There are some by nature proud, | ||
+ | Who patient in all else demand but this-- | ||
+ | To love and be belov' | ||
+ | And being scorn' | ||
+ | Some living death? this is not destiny | ||
+ | But man's own wilful ill." | ||
+ | |||
+ | As thus I spoke | ||
+ | Servants announc' | ||
+ | Through the fast-falling rain and high-wrought sea | ||
+ | Sail'd to the island where the madhouse stands.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++52 The Fitful Alternations Of The Rain| | ++++52 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</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++53 To| | ++++53 To| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, | ||
+ | Love itself shall slumber on.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++54 Hymn Of Pan| | ++++54 Hymn Of Pan| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++55 Remorse| | ++++55 Remorse| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | 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, ' | ||
+ | Tempt not with one last tear thy friend' | ||
+ | Thy lover' | ||
+ | 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' | ||
+ | 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.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++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'd | ||
+ | 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| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Spirit of Delight! | ||
+ | Wherefore hast thou left me now | ||
+ | Many a day and night? | ||
+ | Many a weary night and day | ||
+ | 'Tis since thou art fled away. | ||
+ | How shall ever one like me | ||
+ | Win thee back again? | ||
+ | With the joyous and the free | ||
+ | Thou wilt scoff at pain. | ||
+ | Spirit false! thou hast forgot | ||
+ | All but those who need thee not. | ||
+ | |||
+ | As a lizard with the shade | ||
+ | Of a trembling leaf, | ||
+ | Thou with sorrow art dismayed; | ||
+ | Even the sighs of grief | ||
+ | Reproach thee, that thou art not near, | ||
+ | And reproach thou wilt not her. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Let me set my mournful ditty | ||
+ | To a merry measure;-- | ||
+ | Thou wilt never come for pity, | ||
+ | Thou wilt come for pleasure; | ||
+ | Pity then will cut away | ||
+ | Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love all that thou lovest, | ||
+ | Spirit of Delight! | ||
+ | The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed, | ||
+ | And the starry night; | ||
+ | Autumn evening, and the morn | ||
+ | When the golden mists are born. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love snow and all the forms | ||
+ | Of the radiant frost; | ||
+ | I love waves, and winds, and storms, | ||
+ | Everything almost | ||
+ | Which is Nature' | ||
+ | Untainted by man's misery. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love tranquil solitude, | ||
+ | And such society | ||
+ | As is quiet, wise, and good; | ||
+ | Between thee and me | ||
+ | What difference? but thou dost possess | ||
+ | The things I seek, not love them less. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love Love--though he has wings, | ||
+ | And like light can flee, | ||
+ | But above all other things, | ||
+ | Spirit, I love thee-- | ||
+ | Thou art love and life! O come! | ||
+ | Make once more my heart thy home!</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++61 Queen Mab: Part VI (excerpts)| | ++++61 Queen Mab: Part VI (excerpts)| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffus' | ||
+ | A Spirit of activity and life, | ||
+ | That knows no term, cessation, or decay; | ||
+ | That fades not when the lamp of earthly life, | ||
+ | Extinguish' | ||
+ | Awhile there slumbers, more than when the babe | ||
+ | In the dim newness of its being feels | ||
+ | The impulses of sublunary things, | ||
+ | And all is wonder to unpractis' | ||
+ | But, active, steadfast and eternal, still | ||
+ | Guides the fierce whirlwind, in the tempest roars, | ||
+ | Cheers in the day, breathes in the balmy groves, | ||
+ | Strengthens in health, and poisons in disease; | ||
+ | And in the storm of change, that ceaselessly | ||
+ | Rolls round the eternal universe and shakes | ||
+ | Its undecaying battlement, presides, | ||
+ | Apportioning with irresistible law | ||
+ | The place each spring of its machine shall fill; | ||
+ | So that when waves on waves tumultuous heap | ||
+ | Confusion to the clouds, and fiercely driven | ||
+ | Heaven' | ||
+ | Whilst, to the eye of shipwreck' | ||
+ | Lone sitting on the bare and shuddering rock, | ||
+ | All seems unlink' | ||
+ | No atom of this turbulence fulfils | ||
+ | A vague and unnecessitated task, | ||
+ | Or acts but as it must and ought to act. | ||
+ | Even the minutest molecule of light, | ||
+ | That in an April sunbeam' | ||
+ | Fulfils its destin' | ||
+ | The universal Spirit guides; nor less, | ||
+ | When merciless ambition, or mad zeal, | ||
+ | Has led two hosts of dupes to battlefield, | ||
+ | That, blind, they there may dig each other' | ||
+ | And call the sad work glory, does it rule | ||
+ | All passions: not a thought, a will, an act, | ||
+ | No working of the tyrant' | ||
+ | Nor one misgiving of the slaves who boast | ||
+ | Their servitude to hide the shame they feel, | ||
+ | Nor the events enchaining every will, | ||
+ | That from the depths of unrecorded time | ||
+ | Have drawn all-influencing virtue, pass | ||
+ | Unrecogniz' | ||
+ | Soul of the Universe! eternal spring | ||
+ | Of life and death, of happiness and woe, | ||
+ | Of all that chequers the phantasmal scene | ||
+ | That floats before our eyes in wavering light, | ||
+ | Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison, | ||
+ | Whose chains and massy walls | ||
+ | We feel, but cannot see. | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | Necessity! thou mother of the world! | ||
+ | Unlike the God of human error, thou | ||
+ | Requir' | ||
+ | Of man's weak will belongs no more to thee | ||
+ | Than do the changeful passions of his breast | ||
+ | To thy unvarying harmony: the slave, | ||
+ | Whose horrible lusts spread misery o'er the world, | ||
+ | And the good man, who lifts with virtuous pride | ||
+ | His being in the sight of happiness | ||
+ | That springs from his own works; the poison-tree, | ||
+ | Beneath whose shade all life is wither' | ||
+ | And the fair oak, whose leafy dome affords | ||
+ | A temple where the vows of happy love | ||
+ | Are register' | ||
+ | No love, no hate thou cherishest; revenge | ||
+ | And favouritism, | ||
+ | Thou know' | ||
+ | Are but thy passive instruments, | ||
+ | Regard' | ||
+ | Whose joy or pain thy nature cannot feel, | ||
+ | Because thou hast not human sense, | ||
+ | Because thou art not human mind. | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | "Yes! when the sweeping storm of time | ||
+ | Has sung its death-dirge o'er the ruin'd fanes | ||
+ | And broken altars of the almighty Fiend | ||
+ | Whose name usurps thy honours, and the blood | ||
+ | Through centuries clotted there has floated down | ||
+ | The tainted flood of ages, shalt thou live | ||
+ | Unchangeable! A shrine is rais'd to thee, | ||
+ | Which, nor the tempest-breath of time, | ||
+ | Nor the interminable flood | ||
+ | Over earth' | ||
+ | Availeth to destroy-- | ||
+ | The sensitive extension of the world. | ||
+ | That wondrous and eternal fane, | ||
+ | Where pain and pleasure, good and evil join, | ||
+ | To do the will of strong necessity, | ||
+ | And life, in multitudinous shapes, | ||
+ | Still pressing forward where no term can be, | ||
+ | Like hungry and unresting flame | ||
+ | Curls round the eternal columns of its strength." | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++62 And like a Dying Lady, Lean and Pale| | ++++62 And like a Dying Lady, Lean and Pale| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Who totters forth, wrapp' | ||
+ | Out of her chamber, led by the insane | ||
+ | And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, | ||
+ | The moon arose up in the murky East, | ||
+ | A white and shapeless mass</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++63 Lines| | ++++63 Lines| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | The light in the dust lies dead; | ||
+ | When the cloud is scatter' | ||
+ | The rainbow' | ||
+ | When the lute is broken, | ||
+ | Sweet tones are remember' | ||
+ | When the lips have spoken, | ||
+ | Loved accents are soon forgot. | ||
+ | |||
+ | As music and splendour | ||
+ | Survive not the lamp and the lute, | ||
+ | The heart' | ||
+ | No song when the spirit is mute-- | ||
+ | No song but sad dirges, | ||
+ | Like the wind through a ruin'd cell, | ||
+ | Or the mournful surges | ||
+ | That ring the dead seaman' | ||
+ | |||
+ | When hearts have once mingled, | ||
+ | Love first leaves the well-built nest; | ||
+ | The weak one is singled | ||
+ | To endure what it once possest. | ||
+ | O Love, who bewailest | ||
+ | The frailty of all things here, | ||
+ | Why choose you the frailest | ||
+ | For your cradle, your home, and your bier? | ||
+ | Its passions will rock thee, | ||
+ | As the storms rock the ravens on high: | ||
+ | Bright reason will mock thee, | ||
+ | Like the sun from a wintry sky. | ||
+ | From thy nest every rafter | ||
+ | Will rot, and thine eagle home | ||
+ | Leave thee naked to laughter, | ||
+ | When leaves fall and cold winds come.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++64 To Coleridge| | ++++64 To Coleridge| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | And genii of the evening breeze, | ||
+ | And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair | ||
+ | As star-beams among twilight trees: | ||
+ | Such lovely ministers to meet | ||
+ | Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet. | ||
+ | With mountain winds, and babbling springs, | ||
+ | And moonlight seas, that are the voice | ||
+ | Of these inexplicable things, | ||
+ | Thou dost hold commune, and rejoice | ||
+ | When they did answer thee, but they | ||
+ | Cast, like a worthless boon, thy love away. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And thou hast sought in starry eyes | ||
+ | Beams that were never meant for thine, | ||
+ | Another' | ||
+ | To a fond faith ! still dost thou pine? | ||
+ | Still dost thou hope that greeting hands, | ||
+ | Voice, looks, or lips, may answer thy demands? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah! wherefore didst thou build thine hope | ||
+ | On the false earth' | ||
+ | Did thine own mind afford no scope | ||
+ | Of love, or moving thoughts to thee? | ||
+ | That natural scenes or human smiles | ||
+ | Could steal the power to wind thee in their wiles? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled | ||
+ | Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted; | ||
+ | The glory of the moon is dead; | ||
+ | Night' | ||
+ | Thine own soul still is true to thee, | ||
+ | But changed to a foul fiend through misery. | ||
+ | |||
+ | This fiend, whose ghastly presence ever | ||
+ | Beside thee like thy shadow hangs, | ||
+ | Dream not to chase: the mad endeavour | ||
+ | Would scourge thee to severer pangs. | ||
+ | Be as thou art. Thy settled fate, | ||
+ | Dark as it is, all change would aggravate. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++65 Song: | ++++65 Song: | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Spirit of Delight! | ||
+ | Wherefore hast thou left me now | ||
+ | Many a day and night? | ||
+ | Many a weary night and day | ||
+ | 'Tis since thou are fled away. | ||
+ | |||
+ | How shall ever one like me | ||
+ | Win thee back again? | ||
+ | With the joyous and the free | ||
+ | Thou wilt scoff at pain. | ||
+ | Spirit false! thou hast forgot | ||
+ | All but those who need thee not. | ||
+ | |||
+ | As a lizard with the shade | ||
+ | Of a trembling leaf, | ||
+ | Thou with sorrow art dismay' | ||
+ | Even the sighs of grief | ||
+ | Reproach thee, that thou art not near, | ||
+ | And reproach thou wilt not hear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Let me set my mournful ditty | ||
+ | To a merry measure; | ||
+ | Thou wilt never come for pity, | ||
+ | Thou wilt come for pleasure; | ||
+ | Pity then will cut away | ||
+ | Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love all that thou lovest, | ||
+ | Spirit of Delight! | ||
+ | The fresh Earth in new leaves dress' | ||
+ | And the starry night; | ||
+ | Autumn evening, and the morn | ||
+ | When the golden mists are born. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love snow, and all the forms | ||
+ | Of the radiant frost; | ||
+ | I love waves, and winds, and storms, | ||
+ | Everything almost | ||
+ | Which is Nature' | ||
+ | Untainted by man's misery. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love tranquil solitude, | ||
+ | And such society | ||
+ | As is quiet, wise, and good; | ||
+ | Between thee and me | ||
+ | What difference? but thou dost possess | ||
+ | The things I seek, not love them less. | ||
+ | I love Love--though he has wings, | ||
+ | And like light can flee, | ||
+ | But above all other things, | ||
+ | Spirit, I love thee-- | ||
+ | Thou art love and life! Oh come, | ||
+ | Make once more my heart thy home.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++66 A Summer Evening Churchyard, Lechlade, Gloucestershire| | ++++66 A Summer Evening Churchyard, Lechlade, Gloucestershire| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Each vapour that obscured the sunset' | ||
+ | And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair | ||
+ | In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day: | ||
+ | Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, | ||
+ | Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen. | ||
+ | They breathe their spells towards the departing day, | ||
+ | Encompassing the earth, air, stars, and sea; | ||
+ | Light, sound, and motion, own the potent sway, | ||
+ | Responding to the charm with its own mystery. | ||
+ | The winds are still, or the dry church-tower grass | ||
+ | Knows not their gentle motions as they pass. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thou too, aerial pile, whose pinnacles | ||
+ | Point from one shrine like pyramids of fire, | ||
+ | Obey' | ||
+ | Clothing in hues of heaven thy dim and distant spire, | ||
+ | Around whose lessening and invisible height | ||
+ | Gather among the stars the clouds of night. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The dead are sleeping in their sepulchres: | ||
+ | And, mouldering as they sleep, a thrilling sound, | ||
+ | Half sense half thought, among the darkness stirs, | ||
+ | Breathed from their wormy beds all living things around, | ||
+ | And, mingling with the still night and mute sky, | ||
+ | Its awful hush is felt inaudibly. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus solemnized and softened, death is mild | ||
+ | And terrorless as this serenest night. | ||
+ | Here could I hope, like some enquiring child | ||
+ | Sporting on graves, that death did hide from human sight | ||
+ | Sweet secrets, or beside its breathless sleep | ||
+ | That loveliest dreams perpetual watch did keep.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++67 One sung of thee who left the tale untold| | ++++67 One sung of thee who left the tale untold| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Like the false dawns which perish in the bursting; | ||
+ | Like empty cups of wrought and daedal gold, | ||
+ | Which mock the lips with air, when they are thirsting. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++68 Lines Written in the Bay of Lerici| | ++++68 Lines Written in the Bay of Lerici| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | When the moon had ceas'd to climb | ||
+ | The azure path of Heaven' | ||
+ | And like an albatross asleep, | ||
+ | Balanc' | ||
+ | Hover' | ||
+ | Ere she sought her ocean nest | ||
+ | In the chambers of the West. | ||
+ | She left me, and I stay'd alone | ||
+ | Thinking over every tone | ||
+ | Which, though silent to the ear, | ||
+ | The enchanted heart could hear, | ||
+ | Like notes which die when born, but still | ||
+ | Haunt the echoes of the hill; | ||
+ | And feeling ever--oh, too much!-- | ||
+ | The soft vibration of her touch, | ||
+ | As if her gentle hand, even now, | ||
+ | Lightly trembled on my brow; | ||
+ | And thus, although she absent were, | ||
+ | Memory gave me all of her | ||
+ | That even Fancy dares to claim: | ||
+ | Her presence had made weak and tame | ||
+ | All passions, and I lived alone | ||
+ | In the time which is our own; | ||
+ | The past and future were forgot, | ||
+ | As they had been, and would be, not. | ||
+ | But soon, the guardian angel gone, | ||
+ | The daemon reassum' | ||
+ | In my faint heart. I dare not speak | ||
+ | My thoughts, but thus disturb' | ||
+ | I sat and saw the vessels glide | ||
+ | Over the ocean bright and wide, | ||
+ | Like spirit-winged chariots sent | ||
+ | O'er some serenest element | ||
+ | For ministrations strange and far, | ||
+ | As if to some Elysian star | ||
+ | Sailed for drink to medicine | ||
+ | Such sweet and bitter pain as mine. | ||
+ | And the wind that wing'd their flight | ||
+ | From the land came fresh and light, | ||
+ | And the scent of winged flowers, | ||
+ | And the coolness of the hours | ||
+ | Of dew, and sweet warmth left by day, | ||
+ | Were scatter' | ||
+ | And the fisher with his lamp | ||
+ | And spear about the low rocks damp | ||
+ | Crept, and struck the fish which came | ||
+ | To worship the delusive flame. | ||
+ | Too happy they, whose pleasure sought | ||
+ | Extinguishes all sense and thought | ||
+ | Of the regret that pleasure leaves, | ||
+ | Destroying life alone, not peace!</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++69 From " | ++++69 From " | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Go thou to Rome,--at once the Paradise, | ||
+ | The grave, the city, and the wilderness; | ||
+ | And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, | ||
+ | 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; | ||
+ | |||
+ | 50 | ||
+ | |||
+ | 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 planned | ||
+ | This refuge for his memory, doth stand | ||
+ | Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath, | ||
+ | A field is spread, on which a newer band | ||
+ | Have pitched in Heaven' | ||
+ | Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 51 | ||
+ | |||
+ | Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet | ||
+ | To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned | ||
+ | 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? | ||
+ | |||
+ | 52 | ||
+ | |||
+ | The One remains, the many change and pass; | ||
+ | Heaven' | ||
+ | Life, like a dome of many-coloured 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' | ||
+ | Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak | ||
+ | The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.</ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++70 Archy' | ++++70 Archy' | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | One flies the morning, and one lulls the night: | ||
+ | Only the nightingale, | ||
+ | Sings like the fool through darkness and light. | ||
+ | "A widow bird sate mourning for her love | ||
+ | Upon a wintry bough; | ||
+ | The frozen wind crept on above, | ||
+ | The freezing stream below. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "There was no leaf upon the forest bare, | ||
+ | No flower upon the ground, | ||
+ | And little motion in the air | ||
+ | Except the mill-wheel' | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++71 Rosalind and Helen: a Modern Eclogue| | ++++71 Rosalind and Helen: a Modern Eclogue| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como. | ||
+ | |||
+ | HELEN | ||
+ | Come hither, my sweet Rosalind. | ||
+ | 'T is long since thou and I have met; | ||
+ | And yet methinks it were unkind | ||
+ | Those moments to forget. | ||
+ | Come, sit by me. I see thee stand | ||
+ | By this lone lake, in this far land, | ||
+ | Thy loose hair in the light wind flying, | ||
+ | Thy sweet voice to each tone of even | ||
+ | United, and thine eyes replying | ||
+ | To the hues of yon fair heaven. | ||
+ | Come, gentle friend! wilt sit by me? | ||
+ | And be as thou wert wont to be | ||
+ | Ere we were disunited? | ||
+ | None doth behold us now; the power | ||
+ | That led us forth at this lone hour | ||
+ | Will be but ill requited | ||
+ | If thou depart in scorn. Oh, come, | ||
+ | And talk of our abandoned home! | ||
+ | Remember, this is Italy, | ||
+ | And we are exiles. Talk with me | ||
+ | Of that our land, whose wilds and floods, | ||
+ | Barren and dark although they be, | ||
+ | Were dearer than these chestnut woods; | ||
+ | Those heathy paths, that inland stream, | ||
+ | And the blue mountains, shapes which seem | ||
+ | Like wrecks of childhood' | ||
+ | Which that we have abandoned now, | ||
+ | Weighs on the heart like that remorse | ||
+ | Which altered friendship leaves. I seek | ||
+ | No more our youthful intercourse. | ||
+ | That cannot be! Rosalind, speak, | ||
+ | Speak to me! Leave me not! When morn did come, | ||
+ | When evening fell upon our common home, | ||
+ | When for one hour we parted,--do not frown; | ||
+ | I would not chide thee, though thy faith is broken; | ||
+ | But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token | ||
+ | Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown, | ||
+ | Turn, as 't were but the memory of me, | ||
+ | And not my scornèd self who prayed to thee! | ||
+ | |||
+ | ROSALIND | ||
+ | Is it a dream, or do I see | ||
+ | And hear frail Helen? I would flee | ||
+ | Thy tainting touch; but former years | ||
+ | Arise, and bring forbidden tears; | ||
+ | And my o' | ||
+ | Seeks yet its lost repose in thee. | ||
+ | I share thy crime. I cannot choose | ||
+ | But weep for thee; mine own strange grief | ||
+ | But seldom stoops to such relief; | ||
+ | Nor ever did I love thee less, | ||
+ | Though mourning o'er thy wickedness | ||
+ | Even with a sister' | ||
+ | What to the evil world is due, | ||
+ | And therefore sternly did refuse | ||
+ | To link me with the infamy | ||
+ | Of one so lost as Helen. Now, | ||
+ | Bewildered by my dire despair, | ||
+ | Wondering I blush, and weep that thou | ||
+ | Shouldst love me still--thou only!--There, | ||
+ | Let us sit on that gray stone | ||
+ | Till our mournful talk be done. | ||
+ | |||
+ | HELEN | ||
+ | Alas! not there; I cannot bear | ||
+ | The murmur of this lake to hear. | ||
+ | A sound from there, Rosalind dear, | ||
+ | Which never yet I heard elsewhere | ||
+ | But in our native land, recurs, | ||
+ | Even here where now we meet. It stirs | ||
+ | Too much of suffocating sorrow! | ||
+ | In the dell of yon dark chestnut wood | ||
+ | Is a stone seat, a solitude | ||
+ | Less like our own. The ghost of peace | ||
+ | Will not desert this spot. To-morrow, | ||
+ | If thy kind feelings should not cease, | ||
+ | We may sit here. | ||
+ | |||
+ | ROSALIND | ||
+ | Thou lead, my sweet, | ||
+ | And I will follow. | ||
+ | |||
+ | HENRY | ||
+ | 'T is Fenici' | ||
+ | Where you are going? This is not the way, | ||
+ | Mamma; it leads behind those trees that grow | ||
+ | Close to the little river. | ||
+ | |||
+ | HELEN | ||
+ | Yes, I know; | ||
+ | I was bewildered. Kiss me and be gay, | ||
+ | Dear boy; why do you sob? | ||
+ | |||
+ | HENRY | ||
+ | I do not know; | ||
+ | But it might break any one's heart to see | ||
+ | You and the lady cry so bitterly. | ||
+ | |||
+ | HELEN | ||
+ | It is a gentle child, my friend. Go home, | ||
+ | Henry, and play with Lilla till I come. | ||
+ | We only cried with joy to see each other; | ||
+ | We are quite merry now. Good night. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The boy | ||
+ | Lifted a sudden look upon his mother, | ||
+ | And, in the gleam of forced and hollow joy | ||
+ | Which lightened o'er her face, laughed with the glee | ||
+ | Of light and unsuspecting infancy, | ||
+ | And whispered in her ear, 'Bring home with you | ||
+ | That sweet strange lady-friend.' | ||
+ | But stopped, and beckoned with a meaning smile, | ||
+ | Where the road turned. Pale Rosalind the while, | ||
+ | Hiding her face, stood weeping silently. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In silence then they took the way | ||
+ | Beneath the forest' | ||
+ | It was a vast and antique wood, | ||
+ | Through which they took their way; | ||
+ | And the gray shades of evening | ||
+ | O'er that green wilderness did fling | ||
+ | Still deeper solitude. | ||
+ | Pursuing still the path that wound | ||
+ | The vast and knotted trees around, | ||
+ | Through which slow shades were wandering, | ||
+ | To a deep lawny dell they came, | ||
+ | To a stone seat beside a spring, | ||
+ | O'er which the columned wood did frame | ||
+ | A roofless temple, like the fane | ||
+ | Where, ere new creeds could faith obtain, | ||
+ | Man's early race once knelt beneath | ||
+ | The overhanging deity. | ||
+ | O'er this fair fountain hung the sky, | ||
+ | Now spangled with rare stars. The snake, | ||
+ | The pale snake, that with eager breath | ||
+ | Creeps here his noontide thirst to slake, | ||
+ | Is beaming with many a mingled hue, | ||
+ | Shed from yon dome's eternal blue, | ||
+ | When he floats on that dark and lucid flood | ||
+ | In the light of his own loveliness; | ||
+ | And the birds, that in the fountain dip | ||
+ | Their plumes, with fearless fellowship | ||
+ | Above and round him wheel and hover. | ||
+ | The fitful wind is heard to stir | ||
+ | One solitary leaf on high; | ||
+ | The chirping of the grasshopper | ||
+ | Fills every pause. There is emotion | ||
+ | In all that dwells at noontide here; | ||
+ | Then through the intricate wild wood | ||
+ | A maze of life and light and motion | ||
+ | Is woven. But there is stillness now-- | ||
+ | Gloom, and the trance of Nature now. | ||
+ | The snake is in his cave asleep; | ||
+ | The birds are on the branches dreaming; | ||
+ | Only the shadows creep; | ||
+ | Only the glow-worm is gleaming; | ||
+ | Only the owls and the nightingales | ||
+ | Wake in this dell when daylight fails, | ||
+ | And gray shades gather in the woods; | ||
+ | And the owls have all fled far away | ||
+ | In a merrier glen to hoot and play, | ||
+ | For the moon is veiled and sleeping now. | ||
+ | The accustomed nightingale still broods | ||
+ | On her accustomed bough, | ||
+ | But she is mute; for her false mate | ||
+ | Has fled and left her desolate. | ||
+ | |||
+ | This silent spot tradition old | ||
+ | Had peopled with the spectral dead. | ||
+ | For the roots of the speaker' | ||
+ | And stiff, as with tremulous lips he told | ||
+ | That a hellish shape at midnight led | ||
+ | The ghost of a youth with hoary hair, | ||
+ | And sate on the seat beside him there, | ||
+ | Till a naked child came wandering by, | ||
+ | When the fiend would change to a lady fair! | ||
+ | A fearful tale! the truth was worse; | ||
+ | For here a sister and a brother | ||
+ | Had solemnized a monstrous curse, | ||
+ | Meeting in this fair solitude; | ||
+ | For beneath yon very sky, | ||
+ | Had they resigned to one another | ||
+ | Body and soul. The multitude, | ||
+ | Tracking them to the secret wood, | ||
+ | Tore limb from limb their innocent child, | ||
+ | And stabbed and trampled on its mother; | ||
+ | But the youth, for God's most holy grace, | ||
+ | A priest saved to burn in the market-place. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Duly at evening Helen came | ||
+ | To this lone silent spot, | ||
+ | From the wrecks of a tale of wilder sorrow | ||
+ | So much of sympathy to borrow | ||
+ | As soothed her own dark lot. | ||
+ | Duly each evening from her home, | ||
+ | With her fair child would Helen come | ||
+ | To sit upon that antique seat, | ||
+ | While the hues of day were pale; | ||
+ | And the bright boy beside her feet | ||
+ | Now lay, lifting at intervals | ||
+ | His broad blue eyes on her; | ||
+ | Now, where some sudden impulse calls, | ||
+ | Following. He was a gentle boy | ||
+ | And in all gentle sorts took joy. | ||
+ | Oft in a dry leaf for a boat, | ||
+ | With a small feather for a sail, | ||
+ | His fancy on that spring would float, | ||
+ | If some invisible breeze might stir | ||
+ | Its marble calm; and Helen smiled | ||
+ | Through tears of awe on the gay child, | ||
+ | To think that a boy as fair as he, | ||
+ | In years which never more may be, | ||
+ | By that same fount, in that same wood, | ||
+ | The like sweet fancies had pursued; | ||
+ | And that a mother, lost like her, | ||
+ | Had mournfully sate watching him. | ||
+ | Then all the scene was wont to swim | ||
+ | Through the mist of a burning tear. | ||
+ | For many months had Helen known | ||
+ | This scene; and now she thither turned | ||
+ | Her footsteps, not alone. | ||
+ | The friend whose falsehood she had mourned | ||
+ | Sate with her on that seat of stone. | ||
+ | Silent they sate; for evening, | ||
+ | And the power its glimpses bring, | ||
+ | Had with one awful shadow quelled | ||
+ | The passion of their grief. They sate | ||
+ | With linkèd hands, for unrepelled | ||
+ | Had Helen taken Rosalind' | ||
+ | Like the autumn wind, when it unbinds | ||
+ | The tangled locks of the nightshade' | ||
+ | Which is twined in the sultry summer air | ||
+ | Round the walls of an outworn sepulchre, | ||
+ | Did the voice of Helen, sad and sweet, | ||
+ | And the sound of her heart that ever beat | ||
+ | As with sighs and words she breathed on her, | ||
+ | Unbind the knots of her friend' | ||
+ | Till her thoughts were free to float and flow; | ||
+ | And from her laboring bosom now, | ||
+ | Like the bursting of a prisoned flame, | ||
+ | The voice of a long-pent sorrow came. | ||
+ | |||
+ | ROSALIND | ||
+ | I saw the dark earth fall upon | ||
+ | The coffin; and I saw the stone | ||
+ | Laid over him whom this cold breast | ||
+ | Had pillowed to his nightly rest! | ||
+ | Thou knowest not, thou canst not know | ||
+ | My agony. Oh! I could not weep. | ||
+ | The sources whence such blessings flow | ||
+ | Were not to be approached by me! | ||
+ | But I could smile, and I could sleep, | ||
+ | Though with a self-accusing heart. | ||
+ | In morning' | ||
+ | I watched--and would not thence depart-- | ||
+ | My husband' | ||
+ | My children knew their sire was gone; | ||
+ | But when I told them, 'He is dead,' | ||
+ | They laughed aloud in frantic glee, | ||
+ | They clapped their hands and leaped about, | ||
+ | Answering each other' | ||
+ | With many a prank and merry shout. | ||
+ | But I sate silent and alone, | ||
+ | Wrapped in the mock of mourning weed. | ||
+ | |||
+ | They laughed, for he was dead; but I | ||
+ | Sate with a hard and tearless eye, | ||
+ | And with a heart which would deny | ||
+ | The secret joy it could not quell, | ||
+ | Low muttering o'er his loathèd name; | ||
+ | Till from that self-contention came | ||
+ | Remorse where sin was none; a hell | ||
+ | Which in pure spirits should not dwell. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I 'll tell thee truth. He was a man | ||
+ | Hard, selfish, loving only gold, | ||
+ | Yet full of guile; his pale eyes ran | ||
+ | With tears which each some falsehood told, | ||
+ | And oft his smooth and bridled tongue | ||
+ | Would give the lie to his flushing cheek; | ||
+ | He was a coward to the strong; | ||
+ | He was a tyrant to the weak, | ||
+ | On whom his vengeance he would wreak; | ||
+ | For scorn, whose arrows search the heart, | ||
+ | From many a stranger' | ||
+ | And on his memory cling, and follow | ||
+ | His soul to its home so cold and hollow. | ||
+ | He was a tyrant to the weak, | ||
+ | And we were such, alas the day! | ||
+ | Oft, when my little ones at play | ||
+ | Were in youth' | ||
+ | Or if they listened to some tale | ||
+ | Of travellers, or of fairyland, | ||
+ | When the light from the wood-fire' | ||
+ | Flashed on their faces,--if they heard | ||
+ | Or thought they heard upon the stair | ||
+ | His footstep, the suspended word | ||
+ | Died on my lips; we all grew pale; | ||
+ | The babe at my bosom was hushed with fear | ||
+ | If it thought it heard its father near; | ||
+ | And my two wild boys would near my knee | ||
+ | Cling, cowed and cowering fearfully. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I 'll tell thee truth: I loved another. | ||
+ | His name in my ear was ever ringing, | ||
+ | His form to my brain was ever clinging; | ||
+ | Yet, if some stranger breathed that name, | ||
+ | My lips turned white, and my heart beat fast. | ||
+ | My nights were once haunted by dreams of flame, | ||
+ | My days were dim in the shadow cast | ||
+ | By the memory of the same! | ||
+ | Day and night, day and night, | ||
+ | He was my breath and life and light, | ||
+ | For three short years, which soon were passed. | ||
+ | On the fourth, my gentle mother | ||
+ | Led me to the shrine, to be | ||
+ | His sworn bride eternally. | ||
+ | And now we stood on the altar stair, | ||
+ | When my father came from a distant land, | ||
+ | And with a loud and fearful cry | ||
+ | Rushed between us suddenly. | ||
+ | I saw the stream of his thin gray hair, | ||
+ | I saw his lean and lifted hand, | ||
+ | And heard his words--and live! O God! | ||
+ | Wherefore do I live? | ||
+ | He cried, 'I tell thee 't is her brother! | ||
+ | Thy mother, boy, beneath the sod | ||
+ | Of yon churchyard rests in her shroud so cold; | ||
+ | I am now weak, and pale, and old; | ||
+ | We were once dear to one another, | ||
+ | I and that corpse! Thou art our child!' | ||
+ | Then with a laugh both long and wild | ||
+ | The youth upon the pavement fell. | ||
+ | They found him dead! All looked on me, | ||
+ | The spasms of my despair to see; | ||
+ | But I was calm. I went away; | ||
+ | I was clammy-cold like clay. | ||
+ | I did not weep; I did not speak; | ||
+ | But day by day, week after week, | ||
+ | I walked about like a corpse alive. | ||
+ | Alas! sweet friend, you must believe | ||
+ | This heart is stone--it did not break. | ||
+ | |||
+ | My father lived a little while, | ||
+ | But all might see that he was dying, | ||
+ | He smiled with such a woful smile. | ||
+ | When he was in the churchyard lying | ||
+ | Among the worms, we grew quite poor, | ||
+ | So that no one would give us bread; | ||
+ | My mother looked at me, and said | ||
+ | Faint words of cheer, which only meant | ||
+ | That she could die and be content; | ||
+ | So I went forth from the same church door | ||
+ | To another husband' | ||
+ | And this was he who died at last, | ||
+ | When weeks and months and years had passed, | ||
+ | Through which I firmly did fulfil | ||
+ | My duties, a devoted wife, | ||
+ | With the stern step of vanquished will | ||
+ | Walking beneath the night of life, | ||
+ | Whose hours extinguished, | ||
+ | Falling forever, pain by pain, | ||
+ | The very hope of death' | ||
+ | Which, since the heart within my breast | ||
+ | Of natural life was dispossessed, | ||
+ | Its strange sustainer there had been. | ||
+ | |||
+ | When flowers were dead, and grass was green | ||
+ | Upon my mother' | ||
+ | Whom to outlive, and cheer, and make | ||
+ | My wan eyes glitter for her sake, | ||
+ | Was my vowed task, the single care | ||
+ | Which once gave life to my despair-- | ||
+ | When she was a thing that did not stir, | ||
+ | And the crawling worms were cradling her | ||
+ | To a sleep more deep and so more sweet | ||
+ | Than a baby's rocked on its nurse' | ||
+ | I lived; a living pulse then beat | ||
+ | Beneath my heart that awakened me. | ||
+ | What was this pulse so warm and free? | ||
+ | Alas! I knew it could not be | ||
+ | My own dull blood. 'T was like a thought | ||
+ | Of liquid love, that spread and wrought | ||
+ | Under my bosom and in my brain, | ||
+ | And crept with the blood through every vein, | ||
+ | And hour by hour, day after day, | ||
+ | The wonder could not charm away | ||
+ | But laid in sleep my wakeful pain, | ||
+ | Until I knew it was a child, | ||
+ | And then I wept. For long, long years | ||
+ | These frozen eyes had shed no tears; | ||
+ | But now--' | ||
+ | When April has wept itself to May; | ||
+ | I sate through the sweet sunny day | ||
+ | By my window bowered round with leaves, | ||
+ | And down my cheeks the quick tears ran | ||
+ | Like twinkling rain-drops from the eaves, | ||
+ | When warm spring showers are passing o'er. | ||
+ | O Helen, none can ever tell | ||
+ | The joy it was to weep once more! | ||
+ | |||
+ | I wept to think how hard it were | ||
+ | To kill my babe, and take from it | ||
+ | The sense of light, and the warm air, | ||
+ | And my own fond and tender care, | ||
+ | And love and smiles; ere I knew yet | ||
+ | That these for it might, as for me, | ||
+ | Be the masks of a grinning mockery. | ||
+ | And haply, I would dream, 't were sweet | ||
+ | To feed it from my faded breast, | ||
+ | Or mark my own heart' | ||
+ | And watch the growing soul beneath | ||
+ | Dawn in faint smiles; and hear its breath, | ||
+ | Half interrupted by calm sighs, | ||
+ | And search the depth of its fair eyes | ||
+ | For long departed memories! | ||
+ | And so I lived till that sweet load | ||
+ | Was lightened. Darkly forward flowed | ||
+ | The stream of years, and on it bore | ||
+ | Two shapes of gladness to my sight; | ||
+ | Two other babes, delightful more, | ||
+ | In my lost soul's abandoned night, | ||
+ | Than their own country ships may be | ||
+ | Sailing towards wrecked mariners | ||
+ | Who cling to the rock of a wintry sea. | ||
+ | For each, as it came, brought soothing tears; | ||
+ | And a loosening warmth, as each one lay | ||
+ | Sucking the sullen milk away, | ||
+ | About my frozen heart did play, | ||
+ | And weaned it, oh, how painfully-- | ||
+ | As they themselves were weaned each one | ||
+ | From that sweet food--even from the thirst | ||
+ | Of death, and nothingness, | ||
+ | Strange inmate of a living breast, | ||
+ | Which all that I had undergone | ||
+ | Of grief and shame, since she who first | ||
+ | The gates of that dark refuge closed | ||
+ | Came to my sight, and almost burst | ||
+ | The seal of that Lethean spring-- | ||
+ | But these fair shadows interposed. | ||
+ | For all delights are shadows now! | ||
+ | And from my brain to my dull brow | ||
+ | The heavy tears gather and flow. | ||
+ | I cannot speak--oh, let me weep! | ||
+ | |||
+ | The tears which fell from her wan eyes | ||
+ | Glimmered among the moonlight dew. | ||
+ | Her deep hard sobs and heavy sighs | ||
+ | Their echoes in the darkness threw. | ||
+ | When she grew calm, she thus did keep | ||
+ | The tenor of her tale:-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | He died; | ||
+ | I know not how; he was not old, | ||
+ | If age be numbered by its years; | ||
+ | But he was bowed and bent with fears, | ||
+ | Pale with the quenchless thirst of gold, | ||
+ | Which, like fierce fever, left him weak; | ||
+ | And his strait lip and bloated cheek | ||
+ | Were warped in spasms by hollow sneers; | ||
+ | And selfish cares with barren plough, | ||
+ | Not age, had lined his narrow brow, | ||
+ | And foul and cruel thoughts, which feed | ||
+ | Upon the withering life within, | ||
+ | Like vipers on some poisonous weed. | ||
+ | Whether his ill were death or sin | ||
+ | None knew, until he died indeed, | ||
+ | And then men owned they were the same. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Seven days within my chamber lay | ||
+ | That corse, and my babes made holiday. | ||
+ | At last, I told them what is death. | ||
+ | The eldest, with a kind of shame, | ||
+ | Came to my knees with silent breath, | ||
+ | And sate awe-stricken at my feet; | ||
+ | And soon the others left their play, | ||
+ | And sate there too. It is unmeet | ||
+ | To shed on the brief flower of youth | ||
+ | The withering knowledge of the grave. | ||
+ | From me remorse then wrung that truth. | ||
+ | I could not bear the joy which gave | ||
+ | Too just a response to mine own. | ||
+ | In vain. I dared not feign a groan; | ||
+ | And in their artless looks I saw, | ||
+ | Between the mists of fear and awe, | ||
+ | That my own thought was theirs; and they | ||
+ | Expressed it not in words, but said, | ||
+ | Each in its heart, how every day | ||
+ | Will pass in happy work and play, | ||
+ | Now he is dead and gone away! | ||
+ | |||
+ | After the funeral all our kin | ||
+ | Assembled, and the will was read. | ||
+ | My friend, I tell thee, even the dead | ||
+ | Have strength, their putrid shrouds within, | ||
+ | To blast and torture. Those who live | ||
+ | Still fear the living, but a corse | ||
+ | Is merciless, and Power doth give | ||
+ | To such pale tyrants half the spoil | ||
+ | He rends from those who groan and toil, | ||
+ | Because they blush not with remorse | ||
+ | Among their crawling worms. Behold, | ||
+ | I have no child! my tale grows old | ||
+ | With grief, and staggers; let it reach | ||
+ | The limits of my feeble speech, | ||
+ | And languidly at length recline | ||
+ | On the brink of its own grave and mine. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thou knowest what a thing is Poverty | ||
+ | Among the fallen on evil days. | ||
+ | 'T is Crime, and Fear, and Infamy, | ||
+ | And houseless Want in frozen ways | ||
+ | Wandering ungarmented, | ||
+ | And, worse than all, that inward stain, | ||
+ | Foul Self-contempt, | ||
+ | Youth' | ||
+ | First like hot gall, then dry forever! | ||
+ | And well thou knowest a mother never | ||
+ | Could doom her children to this ill, | ||
+ | And well he knew the same. The will | ||
+ | Imported that, if e'er again | ||
+ | I sought my children to behold, | ||
+ | Or in my birthplace did remain | ||
+ | Beyond three days, whose hours were told, | ||
+ | They should inherit nought; and he, | ||
+ | To whom next came their patrimony, | ||
+ | A sallow lawyer, cruel and cold, | ||
+ | Aye watched me, as the will was read, | ||
+ | With eyes askance, which sought to see | ||
+ | The secrets of my agony; | ||
+ | And with close lips and anxious brow | ||
+ | Stood canvassing still to and fro | ||
+ | The chance of my resolve, and all | ||
+ | The dead man's caution just did call; | ||
+ | For in that killing lie 't was said-- | ||
+ | 'She is adulterous, and doth hold | ||
+ | In secret that the Christian creed | ||
+ | Is false, and therefore is much need | ||
+ | That I should have a care to save | ||
+ | My children from eternal fire.' | ||
+ | Friend, he was sheltered by the grave, | ||
+ | And therefore dared to be a liar! | ||
+ | In truth, the Indian on the pyre | ||
+ | Of her dead husband, half consumed, | ||
+ | As well might there be false as I | ||
+ | To those abhorred embraces doomed, | ||
+ | Far worse than fire's brief agony. | ||
+ | As to the Christian creed, if true | ||
+ | Or false, I never questioned it; | ||
+ | I took it as the vulgar do; | ||
+ | Nor my vexed soul had leisure yet | ||
+ | To doubt the things men say, or deem | ||
+ | That they are other than they seem. | ||
+ | |||
+ | All present who those crimes did hear, | ||
+ | In feigned or actual scorn and fear, | ||
+ | Men, women, children, slunk away, | ||
+ | Whispering with self-contented pride | ||
+ | Which half suspects its own base lie. | ||
+ | I spoke to none, nor did abide, | ||
+ | But silently I went my way, | ||
+ | Nor noticed I where joyously | ||
+ | Sate my two younger babes at play | ||
+ | In the courtyard through which I passed; | ||
+ | But went with footsteps firm and fast | ||
+ | Till I came to the brink of the ocean green, | ||
+ | And there, a woman with gray hairs, | ||
+ | Who had my mother' | ||
+ | Kneeling, with many tears and prayers, | ||
+ | Made me accept a purse of gold, | ||
+ | Half of the earnings she had kept | ||
+ | To refuge her when weak and old. | ||
+ | With woe, which never sleeps or slept, | ||
+ | I wander now. 'T is a vain thought-- | ||
+ | But on yon Alp, whose snowy head | ||
+ | 'Mid the azure air is islanded, | ||
+ | (We see it--o' | ||
+ | Which sunrise from its eastern caves | ||
+ | Drives, wrinkling into golden waves, | ||
+ | Hung with its precipices proud-- | ||
+ | From that gray stone where first we met) | ||
+ | There--now who knows the dead feel nought?-- | ||
+ | Should be my grave; for he who yet | ||
+ | Is my soul's soul once said: '' | ||
+ | 'Mid stars and lightnings to abide, | ||
+ | And winds, and lulling snows that beat | ||
+ | With their soft flakes the mountain wide, | ||
+ | Where weary meteor lamps repose, | ||
+ | And languid storms their pinions close, | ||
+ | And all things strong and bright and pure, | ||
+ | And ever during, aye endure. | ||
+ | Who knows, if one were buried there, | ||
+ | But these things might our spirits make, | ||
+ | Amid the all-surrounding air, | ||
+ | Their own eternity partake?' | ||
+ | Then 't was a wild and playful saying | ||
+ | At which I laughed or seemed to laugh. | ||
+ | They were his words--now heed my praying, | ||
+ | And let them be my epitaph. | ||
+ | Thy memory for a term may be | ||
+ | My monument. Wilt remember me? | ||
+ | I know thou wilt; and canst forgive, | ||
+ | Whilst in this erring world to live | ||
+ | My soul disdained not, that I thought | ||
+ | Its lying forms were worthy aught, | ||
+ | And much less thee. | ||
+ | |||
+ | HELEN | ||
+ | Oh, speak not so! | ||
+ | But come to me and pour thy woe | ||
+ | Into this heart, full though it be, | ||
+ | Aye overflowing with its own. | ||
+ | I thought that grief had severed me | ||
+ | From all beside who weep and groan, | ||
+ | Its likeness upon earth to be-- | ||
+ | Its express image; but thou art | ||
+ | More wretched. Sweet, we will not part | ||
+ | Henceforth, if death be not division; | ||
+ | If so, the dead feel no contrition. | ||
+ | But wilt thou hear, since last we parted, | ||
+ | All that has left me broken-hearted? | ||
+ | |||
+ | ROSALIND | ||
+ | Yes, speak. The faintest stars are scarcely shorn | ||
+ | Of their thin beams by that delusive morn | ||
+ | Which sinks again in darkness, like the light | ||
+ | Of early love, soon lost in total night. | ||
+ | |||
+ | HELEN | ||
+ | Alas! Italian winds are mild, | ||
+ | But my bosom is cold--wintry cold; | ||
+ | When the warm air weaves, among the fresh leaves, | ||
+ | Soft music, my poor brain is wild, | ||
+ | And I am weak like a nursling child, | ||
+ | Though my soul with grief is gray and old. | ||
+ | |||
+ | ROSALIND | ||
+ | Weep not at thine own words, though they must make | ||
+ | Me weep. What is thy tale? | ||
+ | |||
+ | HELEN | ||
+ | I fear 't will shake | ||
+ | Thy gentle heart with tears. Thou well | ||
+ | Rememberest when we met no more; | ||
+ | And, though I dwelt with Lionel, | ||
+ | That friendless caution pierced me sore | ||
+ | With grief; a wound my spirit bore | ||
+ | Indignantly--but when he died, | ||
+ | With him lay dead both hope and pride. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Alas! all hope is buried now. | ||
+ | But then men dreamed the aged earth | ||
+ | Was laboring in that mighty birth | ||
+ | Which many a poet and a sage | ||
+ | Has aye foreseen--the happy age | ||
+ | When truth and love shall dwell below | ||
+ | Among the works and ways of men; | ||
+ | Which on this world not power but will | ||
+ | Even now is wanting to fulfil. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Among mankind what thence befell | ||
+ | Of strife, how vain, is known too well; | ||
+ | When Liberty' | ||
+ | 'Mid murderous howls. To Lionel, | ||
+ | Though of great wealth and lineage high, | ||
+ | Yet through those dungeon walls there came | ||
+ | Thy thrilling light, O Liberty! | ||
+ | And as the meteor' | ||
+ | Startles the dreamer, sun-like truth | ||
+ | Flashed on his visionary youth, | ||
+ | And filled him, not with love, but faith, | ||
+ | And hope, and courage mute in death; | ||
+ | For love and life in him were twins, | ||
+ | Born at one birth. In every other | ||
+ | First life, then love, its course begins, | ||
+ | Though they be children of one mother; | ||
+ | And so through this dark world they fleet | ||
+ | Divided, till in death they meet; | ||
+ | But he loved all things ever. Then | ||
+ | He passed amid the strife of men, | ||
+ | And stood at the throne of armèd power | ||
+ | Pleading for a world of woe. | ||
+ | Secure as one on a rock-built tower | ||
+ | O'er the wrecks which the surge trails to and fro, | ||
+ | 'Mid the passions wild of humankind | ||
+ | He stood, like a spirit calming them; | ||
+ | For, it was said, his words could bind | ||
+ | Like music the lulled crowd, and stem | ||
+ | That torrent of unquiet dream | ||
+ | Which mortals truth and reason deem, | ||
+ | But is revenge and fear and pride. | ||
+ | Joyous he was; and hope and peace | ||
+ | On all who heard him did abide, | ||
+ | Raining like dew from his sweet talk, | ||
+ | As where the evening star may walk | ||
+ | Along the brink of the gloomy seas, | ||
+ | Liquid mists of splendor quiver. | ||
+ | His very gestures touched to tears | ||
+ | The unpersuaded tyrant, never | ||
+ | So moved before; his presence stung | ||
+ | The torturers with their victim' | ||
+ | And none knew how; and through their ears | ||
+ | The subtle witchcraft of his tongue | ||
+ | Unlocked the hearts of those who keep | ||
+ | Gold, the world' | ||
+ | Men wondered, and some sneered to see | ||
+ | One sow what he could never reap; | ||
+ | For he is rich, they said, and young, | ||
+ | And might drink from the depths of luxury. | ||
+ | If he seeks fame, fame never crowned | ||
+ | The champion of a trampled creed; | ||
+ | If he seeks power, power is enthroned | ||
+ | 'Mid ancient rights and wrongs, to feed | ||
+ | Which hungry wolves with praise and spoil | ||
+ | Those who would sit near power must toil; | ||
+ | And such, there sitting, all may see. | ||
+ | What seeks he? All that others seek | ||
+ | He casts away, like a vile weed | ||
+ | Which the sea casts unreturningly. | ||
+ | That poor and hungry men should break | ||
+ | The laws which wreak them toil and scorn | ||
+ | We understand; but Lionel, | ||
+ | We know, is rich and nobly born. | ||
+ | So wondered they; yet all men loved | ||
+ | Young Lionel, though few approved; | ||
+ | All but the priests, whose hatred fell | ||
+ | Like the unseen blight of a smiling day, | ||
+ | The withering honey-dew which clings | ||
+ | Under the bright green buds of May | ||
+ | Whilst they unfold their emerald wings; | ||
+ | For he made verses wild and queer | ||
+ | On the strange creeds priests hold so dear | ||
+ | Because they bring them land and gold. | ||
+ | Of devils and saints and all such gear | ||
+ | He made tales which whoso heard or read | ||
+ | Would laugh till he were almost dead. | ||
+ | So this grew a proverb: ' | ||
+ | Till Lionel' | ||
+ | And then you will laugh yourself young again.' | ||
+ | So the priests hated him, and he | ||
+ | Repaid their hate with cheerful glee. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah, smiles and joyance quickly died, | ||
+ | For public hope grew pale and dim | ||
+ | In an altered time and tide, | ||
+ | And in its wasting withered him, | ||
+ | As a summer flower that blows too soon | ||
+ | Droops in the smile of the waning moon, | ||
+ | When it scatters through an April night | ||
+ | The frozen dews of wrinkling blight. | ||
+ | None now hoped more. Gray Power was seated | ||
+ | Safely on her ancestral throne; | ||
+ | And Faith, the Python, undefeated | ||
+ | Even to its blood-stained steps dragged on | ||
+ | Her foul and wounded train; and men | ||
+ | Were trampled and deceived again, | ||
+ | And words and shows again could bind | ||
+ | The wailing tribes of humankind | ||
+ | In scorn and famine. Fire and blood | ||
+ | Raged round the raging multitude, | ||
+ | To fields remote by tyrants sent | ||
+ | To be the scornèd instrument | ||
+ | With which they drag from mines of gore | ||
+ | The chains their slaves yet ever wore; | ||
+ | And in the streets men met each other, | ||
+ | And by old altars and in halls, | ||
+ | And smiled again at festivals. | ||
+ | But each man found in his heart' | ||
+ | Cold cheer; for all, though half deceived, | ||
+ | The outworn creeds again believed, | ||
+ | And the same round anew began | ||
+ | Which the weary world yet ever ran. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Many then wept, not tears, but gall, | ||
+ | Within their hearts, like drops which fall | ||
+ | Wasting the fountain-stone away. | ||
+ | And in that dark and evil day | ||
+ | Did all desires and thoughts that claim | ||
+ | Men's care--ambition, | ||
+ | Love, hope, though hope was now despair-- | ||
+ | Indue the colors of this change, | ||
+ | As from the all-surrounding air | ||
+ | The earth takes hues obscure and strange, | ||
+ | When storm and earthquake linger there. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And so, my friend, it then befell | ||
+ | To many,--most to Lionel, | ||
+ | Whose hope was like the life of youth | ||
+ | Within him, and when dead became | ||
+ | A spirit of unresting flame, | ||
+ | Which goaded him in his distress | ||
+ | Over the world' | ||
+ | Three years he left his native land, | ||
+ | And on the fourth, when he returned, | ||
+ | None knew him; he was stricken deep | ||
+ | With some disease of mind, and turned | ||
+ | Into aught unlike Lionel. | ||
+ | On him--on whom, did he pause in sleep, | ||
+ | Serenest smiles were wont to keep, | ||
+ | And, did he wake, a wingèd band | ||
+ | Of bright Persuasions, | ||
+ | On his sweet lips and liquid eyes, | ||
+ | Kept their swift pinions half outspread | ||
+ | To do on men his least command-- | ||
+ | On him, whom once 't was paradise | ||
+ | Even to behold, now misery lay. | ||
+ | In his own heart 't was merciless-- | ||
+ | To all things else none may express | ||
+ | Its innocence and tenderness. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'T was said that he had refuge sought | ||
+ | In love from his unquiet thought | ||
+ | In distant lands, and been deceived | ||
+ | By some strange show; for there were found, | ||
+ | Blotted with tears--as those relieved | ||
+ | By their own words are wont to do-- | ||
+ | These mournful verses on the ground, | ||
+ | By all who read them blotted too. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'How am I changed! my hopes were once like fire; | ||
+ | I loved, and I believed that life was love. | ||
+ | How am I lost! on wings of swift desire | ||
+ | Among Heaven' | ||
+ | I slept, and silver dreams did aye inspire | ||
+ | My liquid sleep; I woke, and did approve | ||
+ | All Nature to my heart, and thought to make | ||
+ | A paradise of earth for one sweet sake. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'I love, but I believe in love no more. | ||
+ | I feel desire, but hope not. Oh, from sleep | ||
+ | Most vainly must my weary brain implore | ||
+ | Its long lost flattery now! I wake to weep, | ||
+ | And sit through the long day gnawing the core | ||
+ | Of my bitter heart, and, like a miser, keep-- | ||
+ | Since none in what I feel take pain or pleasure-- | ||
+ | To my own soul its self-consuming treasure.' | ||
+ | |||
+ | He dwelt beside me near the sea; | ||
+ | And oft in evening did we meet, | ||
+ | When the waves, beneath the starlight, flee | ||
+ | O'er the yellow sands with silver feet, | ||
+ | And talked. Our talk was sad and sweet, | ||
+ | Till slowly from his mien there passed | ||
+ | The desolation which it spoke; | ||
+ | And smiles--as when the lightning' | ||
+ | Has parched some heaven-delighting oak, | ||
+ | The next spring shows leaves pale and rare, | ||
+ | But like flowers delicate and fair, | ||
+ | On its rent boughs--again arrayed | ||
+ | His countenance in tender light; | ||
+ | His words grew subtle fire, which made | ||
+ | The air his hearers breathed delight; | ||
+ | His motions, like the winds, were free, | ||
+ | Which bend the bright grass gracefully, | ||
+ | Then fade away in circlets faint; | ||
+ | And wingèd Hope--on which upborne | ||
+ | His soul seemed hovering in his eyes, | ||
+ | Like some bright spirit newly born | ||
+ | Floating amid the sunny skies-- | ||
+ | Sprang forth from his rent heart anew. | ||
+ | Yet o'er his talk, and looks, and mien, | ||
+ | Tempering their loveliness too keen, | ||
+ | Past woe its shadow backward threw; | ||
+ | Till, like an exhalation spread | ||
+ | From flowers half drunk with evening dew, | ||
+ | They did become infectious--sweet | ||
+ | And subtle mists of sense and thought, | ||
+ | Which wrapped us soon, when we might meet, | ||
+ | Almost from our own looks and aught | ||
+ | The wild world holds. And so his mind | ||
+ | Was healed, while mine grew sick with fear; | ||
+ | For ever now his health declined, | ||
+ | Like some frail bark which cannot bear | ||
+ | The impulse of an altered wind, | ||
+ | Though prosperous; and my heart grew full, | ||
+ | 'Mid its new joy, of a new care; | ||
+ | For his cheek became, not pale, but fair, | ||
+ | As rose-o' | ||
+ | And soon his deep and sunny hair, | ||
+ | In this alone less beautiful, | ||
+ | Like grass in tombs grew wild and rare. | ||
+ | The blood in his translucent veins | ||
+ | Beat, not like animal life, but love | ||
+ | Seemed now its sullen springs to move, | ||
+ | When life had failed, and all its pains; | ||
+ | And sudden sleep would seize him oft | ||
+ | Like death, so calm,--but that a tear, | ||
+ | His pointed eye-lashes between, | ||
+ | Would gather in the light serene | ||
+ | Of smiles whose lustre bright and soft | ||
+ | Beneath lay undulating there. | ||
+ | His breath was like inconstant flame | ||
+ | As eagerly it went and came; | ||
+ | And I hung o'er him in his sleep, | ||
+ | Till, like an image in the lake | ||
+ | Which rains disturb, my tears would break | ||
+ | The shadow of that slumber deep. | ||
+ | Then he would bid me not to weep, | ||
+ | And say, with flattery false yet sweet, | ||
+ | That death and he could never meet, | ||
+ | If I would never part with him. | ||
+ | And so we loved, and did unite | ||
+ | All that in us was yet divided; | ||
+ | For when he said, that many a rite, | ||
+ | By men to bind but once provided, | ||
+ | Could not be shared by him and me, | ||
+ | Or they would kill him in their glee, | ||
+ | I shuddered, and then laughing said-- | ||
+ | 'We will have rites our faith to bind, | ||
+ | But our church shall be the starry night, | ||
+ | Our altar the grassy earth outspread, | ||
+ | And our priest the muttering wind.' | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'T was sunset as I spoke. One star | ||
+ | Had scarce burst forth, when from afar | ||
+ | The ministers of misrule sent | ||
+ | Seized upon Lionel, and bore | ||
+ | His chained limbs to a dreary tower, | ||
+ | In the midst of a city vast and wide. | ||
+ | For he, they said, from his mind had bent | ||
+ | Against their gods keen blasphemy, | ||
+ | For which, though his soul must roasted be | ||
+ | In hell's red lakes immortally, | ||
+ | Yet even on earth must he abide | ||
+ | The vengeance of their slaves: a trial, | ||
+ | I think, men call it. What avail | ||
+ | Are prayers and tears, which chase denial | ||
+ | From the fierce savage nursed in hate? | ||
+ | What the knit soul that pleading and pale | ||
+ | Makes wan the quivering cheek which late | ||
+ | It painted with its own delight? | ||
+ | We were divided. As I could, | ||
+ | I stilled the tingling of my blood, | ||
+ | And followed him in their despite, | ||
+ | As a widow follows, pale and wild, | ||
+ | The murderers and corse of her only child; | ||
+ | And when we came to the prison door, | ||
+ | And I prayed to share his dungeon floor | ||
+ | With prayers which rarely have been spurned, | ||
+ | And when men drove me forth, and I | ||
+ | Stared with blank frenzy on the sky,-- | ||
+ | A farewell look of love he turned, | ||
+ | Half calming me; then gazed awhile, | ||
+ | As if through that black and massy pile, | ||
+ | And through the crowd around him there, | ||
+ | And through the dense and murky air, | ||
+ | And the thronged streets, he did espy | ||
+ | What poets know and prophesy; | ||
+ | And said, with voice that made them shiver | ||
+ | And clung like music in my brain, | ||
+ | And which the mute walls spoke again | ||
+ | Prolonging it with deepened strain-- | ||
+ | 'Fear not the tyrants shall rule forever, | ||
+ | Or the priests of the bloody faith; | ||
+ | They stand on the brink of that mighty river, | ||
+ | Whose waves they have tainted with death; | ||
+ | It is fed from the depths of a thousand dells, | ||
+ | Around them it foams, and rages, and swells, | ||
+ | And their swords and their sceptres I floating see, | ||
+ | Like wrecks, in the surge of eternity.' | ||
+ | |||
+ | I dwelt beside the prison gate; | ||
+ | And the strange crowd that out and in | ||
+ | Passed, some, no doubt, with mine own fate, | ||
+ | Might have fretted me with its ceaseless din, | ||
+ | But the fever of care was louder within. | ||
+ | Soon but too late, in penitence | ||
+ | Or fear, his foes released him thence. | ||
+ | I saw his thin and languid form, | ||
+ | As leaning on the jailor' | ||
+ | Whose hardened eyes grew moist the while | ||
+ | To meet his mute and faded smile | ||
+ | And hear his words of kind farewell, | ||
+ | He tottered forth from his damp cell. | ||
+ | Many had never wept before, | ||
+ | From whom fast tears then gushed and fell; | ||
+ | Many will relent no more, | ||
+ | Who sobbed like infants then; ay, all | ||
+ | Who thronged the prison' | ||
+ | The rulers or the slaves of law, | ||
+ | Felt with a new surprise and awe | ||
+ | That they were human, till strong shame | ||
+ | Made them again become the same. | ||
+ | The prison bloodhounds, | ||
+ | From human looks the infection caught, | ||
+ | And fondly crouched and fawned on him; | ||
+ | And men have heard the prisoners say, | ||
+ | Who in their rotting dungeons lay, | ||
+ | That from that hour, throughout one day, | ||
+ | The fierce despair and hate which kept | ||
+ | Their trampled bosoms almost slept, | ||
+ | Where, like twin vultures, they hung feeding | ||
+ | On each heart' | ||
+ | Because their jailors' | ||
+ | Grew merciful, like a parent' | ||
+ | |||
+ | I know not how, but we were free; | ||
+ | And Lionel sate alone with me, | ||
+ | As the carriage drove through the streets apace; | ||
+ | And we looked upon each other' | ||
+ | And the blood in our fingers intertwined | ||
+ | Ran like the thoughts of a single mind, | ||
+ | As the swift emotions went and came | ||
+ | Through the veins of each united frame. | ||
+ | So through the long, long streets we passed | ||
+ | Of the million-peopled City vast; | ||
+ | Which is that desert, where each one | ||
+ | Seeks his mate yet is alone, | ||
+ | Beloved and sought and mourned of none; | ||
+ | Until the clear blue sky was seen, | ||
+ | And the grassy meadows bright and green. | ||
+ | And then I sunk in his embrace | ||
+ | Enclosing there a mighty space | ||
+ | Of love; and so we travelled on | ||
+ | By woods, and fields of yellow flowers, | ||
+ | And towns, and villages, and towers, | ||
+ | Day after day of happy hours. | ||
+ | It was the azure time of June, | ||
+ | When the skies are deep in the stainless noon, | ||
+ | And the warm and fitful breezes shake | ||
+ | The fresh green leaves of the hedge-row briar; | ||
+ | And there were odors then to make | ||
+ | The very breath we did respire | ||
+ | A liquid element, whereon | ||
+ | Our spirits, like delighted things | ||
+ | That walk the air on subtle wings, | ||
+ | Floated and mingled far away | ||
+ | 'Mid the warm winds of the sunny day. | ||
+ | And when the evening star came forth | ||
+ | Above the curve of the new bent moon, | ||
+ | And light and sound ebbed from the earth, | ||
+ | Like the tide of the full and the weary sea | ||
+ | To the depths of its own tranquillity, | ||
+ | Our natures to its own repose | ||
+ | Did the earth' | ||
+ | Like flowers, which on each other close | ||
+ | Their languid leaves when daylight' | ||
+ | We lay, till new emotions came, | ||
+ | Which seemed to make each mortal frame | ||
+ | One soul of interwoven flame, | ||
+ | A life in life, a second birth | ||
+ | In worlds diviner far than earth;-- | ||
+ | Which, like two strains of harmony | ||
+ | That mingle in the silent sky, | ||
+ | Then slowly disunite, passed by | ||
+ | And left the tenderness of tears, | ||
+ | A soft oblivion of all fears, | ||
+ | A sweet sleep:--so we travelled on | ||
+ | Till we came to the home of Lionel, | ||
+ | Among the mountains wild and lone, | ||
+ | Beside the hoary western sea, | ||
+ | Which near the verge of the echoing shore | ||
+ | The massy forest shadowed o'er. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The ancient steward with hair all hoar, | ||
+ | As we alighted, wept to see | ||
+ | His master changed so fearfully; | ||
+ | And the old man's sobs did waken me | ||
+ | From my dream of unremaining gladness; | ||
+ | The truth flashed o'er me like quick madness | ||
+ | When I looked, and saw that there was death | ||
+ | On Lionel. Yet day by day | ||
+ | He lived, till fear grew hope and faith, | ||
+ | And in my soul I dared to say, | ||
+ | Nothing so bright can pass away; | ||
+ | Death is dark, and foul, and dull, | ||
+ | But he is--oh, how beautiful! | ||
+ | Yet day by day he grew more weak, | ||
+ | And his sweet voice, when he might speak, | ||
+ | Which ne'er was loud, became more low; | ||
+ | And the light which flashed through his waxen cheek | ||
+ | Grew faint, as the rose-like hues which flow | ||
+ | From sunset o'er the Alpine snow; | ||
+ | And death seemed not like death in him, | ||
+ | For the spirit of life o'er every limb | ||
+ | Lingered, a mist of sense and thought. | ||
+ | When the summer wind faint odors brought | ||
+ | From mountain flowers, even as it passed, | ||
+ | His cheek would change, as the noonday sea | ||
+ | Which the dying breeze sweeps fitfully. | ||
+ | If but a cloud the sky o' | ||
+ | You might see his color come and go, | ||
+ | And the softest strain of music made | ||
+ | Sweet smiles, yet sad, arise and fade | ||
+ | Amid the dew of his tender eyes; | ||
+ | And the breath, with intermitting flow, | ||
+ | Made his pale lips quiver and part. | ||
+ | You might hear the beatings of his heart, | ||
+ | Quick but not strong; and with my tresses | ||
+ | When oft he playfully would bind | ||
+ | In the bowers of mossy lonelinesses | ||
+ | His neck, and win me so to mingle | ||
+ | In the sweet depth of woven caresses, | ||
+ | And our faint limbs were intertwined, | ||
+ | Alas! the unquiet life did tingle | ||
+ | From mine own heart through every vein, | ||
+ | Like a captive in dreams of liberty, | ||
+ | Who beats the walls of his stony cell. | ||
+ | But his, it seemed already free, | ||
+ | Like the shadow of fire surrounding me! | ||
+ | On my faint eyes and limbs did dwell | ||
+ | That spirit as it passed, till soon-- | ||
+ | As a frail cloud wandering o'er the moon, | ||
+ | Beneath its light invisible, | ||
+ | Is seen when it folds its gray wings again | ||
+ | To alight on midnight' | ||
+ | I lived and saw, and the gathering soul | ||
+ | Passed from beneath that strong control, | ||
+ | And I fell on a life which was sick with fear | ||
+ | Of all the woe that now I bear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Amid a bloomless myrtle wood, | ||
+ | On a green and sea-girt promontory | ||
+ | Not far from where we dwelt, there stood, | ||
+ | In record of a sweet sad story, | ||
+ | An altar and a temple bright | ||
+ | Circled by steps, and o'er the gate | ||
+ | Was sculptured, 'To Fidelity;' | ||
+ | And in the shrine an image sate | ||
+ | All veiled; but there was seen the light | ||
+ | Of smiles which faintly could express | ||
+ | A mingled pain and tenderness | ||
+ | Through that ethereal drapery. | ||
+ | The left hand held the head, the right-- | ||
+ | Beyond the veil, beneath the skin, | ||
+ | You might see the nerves quivering within-- | ||
+ | Was forcing the point of a barbèd dart | ||
+ | Into its side-convulsing heart. | ||
+ | An unskilled hand, yet one informed | ||
+ | With genius, had the marble warmed | ||
+ | With that pathetic life. This tale | ||
+ | It told: A dog had from the sea, | ||
+ | When the tide was raging fearfully, | ||
+ | Dragged Lionel' | ||
+ | Then died beside her on the sand, | ||
+ | And she that temple thence had planned; | ||
+ | But it was Lionel' | ||
+ | Had wrought the image. Each new moon | ||
+ | That lady did, in this lone fane, | ||
+ | The rites of a religion sweet | ||
+ | Whose god was in her heart and brain. | ||
+ | The seasons' | ||
+ | On the marble floor beneath her feet, | ||
+ | And she brought crowns of sea-buds white | ||
+ | Whose odor is so sweet and faint, | ||
+ | And weeds, like branching chrysolite, | ||
+ | Woven in devices fine and quaint; | ||
+ | And tears from her brown eyes did stain | ||
+ | The altar; need but look upon | ||
+ | That dying statue, fair and wan, | ||
+ | If tears should cease, to weep again; | ||
+ | And rare Arabian odors came, | ||
+ | Through the myrtle copses, steaming thence | ||
+ | From the hissing frankincense, | ||
+ | Whose smoke, wool-white as ocean foam, | ||
+ | Hung in dense flocks beneath the dome-- | ||
+ | That ivory dome, whose azure night | ||
+ | With golden stars, like heaven, was bright | ||
+ | O'er the split cedar' | ||
+ | And the lady's harp would kindle there | ||
+ | The melody of an old air, | ||
+ | Softer than sleep; the villagers | ||
+ | Mixed their religion up with hers, | ||
+ | And, as they listened round, shed tears. | ||
+ | |||
+ | One eve he led me to this fane. | ||
+ | Daylight on its last purple cloud | ||
+ | Was lingering gray, and soon her strain | ||
+ | The nightingale began; now loud, | ||
+ | Climbing in circles the windless sky, | ||
+ | Now dying music; suddenly | ||
+ | 'T is scattered in a thousand notes; | ||
+ | And now to the hushed ear it floats | ||
+ | Like field-smells known in infancy, | ||
+ | Then, failing, soothes the air again. | ||
+ | We sate within that temple lone, | ||
+ | Pavilioned round with Parian stone; | ||
+ | His mother' | ||
+ | I had awakened music soft | ||
+ | Amid its wires; the nightingale | ||
+ | Was pausing in her heaven-taught tale. | ||
+ | 'Now drain the cup,' said Lionel, | ||
+ | 'Which the poet-bird has crowned so well | ||
+ | With the wine of her bright and liquid song! | ||
+ | Heard' | ||
+ | That heaven-resounding minstrelsy? | ||
+ | Heard' | ||
+ | Awake in a world of ecstasy? | ||
+ | That love, when limbs are interwoven, | ||
+ | And sleep, when the night of life is cloven, | ||
+ | And thought, to the world' | ||
+ | And music, when one beloved is singing, | ||
+ | Is death? Let us drain right joyously | ||
+ | The cup which the sweet bird fills for me.' | ||
+ | He paused, and to my lips he bent | ||
+ | His own; like spirit his words went | ||
+ | Through all my limbs with the speed of fire; | ||
+ | And his keen eyes, glittering through mine, | ||
+ | Filled me with the flame divine | ||
+ | Which in their orbs was burning far, | ||
+ | Like the light of an unmeasured star | ||
+ | In the sky of midnight dark and deep; | ||
+ | Yes, 't was his soul that did inspire | ||
+ | Sounds which my skill could ne'er awaken; | ||
+ | And first, I felt my fingers sweep | ||
+ | The harp, and a long quivering cry | ||
+ | Burst from my lips in symphony; | ||
+ | The dusk and solid air was shaken, | ||
+ | As swift and swifter the notes came | ||
+ | From my touch, that wandered like quick flame, | ||
+ | And from my bosom, laboring | ||
+ | With some unutterable thing. | ||
+ | The awful sound of my own voice made | ||
+ | My faint lips tremble; in some mood | ||
+ | Of wordless thought Lionel stood | ||
+ | So pale, that even beside his cheek | ||
+ | The snowy column from its shade | ||
+ | Caught whiteness; yet his countenance, | ||
+ | Raised upward, burned with radiance | ||
+ | Of spirit-piercing joy whose light, | ||
+ | Like the moon struggling through the night | ||
+ | Of whirlwind-rifted clouds, did break | ||
+ | With beams that might not be confined. | ||
+ | I paused, but soon his gestures kindled | ||
+ | New power, as by the moving wind | ||
+ | The waves are lifted; and my song | ||
+ | To low soft notes now changed and dwindled, | ||
+ | And, from the twinkling wires among, | ||
+ | My languid fingers drew and flung | ||
+ | Circles of life-dissolving sound, | ||
+ | Yet faint; in aëry rings they bound | ||
+ | My Lionel, who, as every strain | ||
+ | Grew fainter but more sweet, his mien | ||
+ | Sunk with the sound relaxedly; | ||
+ | And slowly now he turned to me, | ||
+ | As slowly faded from his face | ||
+ | That awful joy; with look serene | ||
+ | He was soon drawn to my embrace, | ||
+ | And my wild song then died away | ||
+ | In murmurs; words I dare not say | ||
+ | We mixed, and on his lips mine fed | ||
+ | Till they methought felt still and cold. | ||
+ | 'What is it with thee, love?' I said; | ||
+ | No word, no look, no motion! yes, | ||
+ | There was a change, but spare to guess, | ||
+ | Nor let that moment' | ||
+ | I looked, | ||
+ | And fell, as the eagle on the plain | ||
+ | Falls when life deserts her brain, | ||
+ | And the mortal lightning is veiled again. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Oh, that I were now dead! but such-- | ||
+ | Did they not, love, demand too much, | ||
+ | Those dying murmurs? | ||
+ | Oh, that I once again were mad! | ||
+ | And yet, dear Rosalind, not so, | ||
+ | For I would live to share thy woe. | ||
+ | Sweet boy! did I forget thee too? | ||
+ | Alas, we know not what we do | ||
+ | When we speak words. | ||
+ | |||
+ | No memory more | ||
+ | Is in my mind of that sea-shore. | ||
+ | Madness came on me, and a troop | ||
+ | Of misty shapes did seem to sit | ||
+ | Beside me, on a vessel' | ||
+ | And the clear north wind was driving it. | ||
+ | Then I heard strange tongues, and saw strange flowers, | ||
+ | And the stars methought grew unlike ours, | ||
+ | And the azure sky and the stormless sea | ||
+ | Made me believe that I had died | ||
+ | And waked in a world which was to me | ||
+ | Drear hell, though heaven to all beside. | ||
+ | Then a dead sleep fell on my mind, | ||
+ | Whilst animal life many long years | ||
+ | Had rescued from a chasm of tears; | ||
+ | And, when I woke, I wept to find | ||
+ | That the same lady, bright and wise, | ||
+ | With silver locks and quick brown eyes, | ||
+ | The mother of my Lionel, | ||
+ | Had tended me in my distress, | ||
+ | And died some months before. Nor less | ||
+ | Wonder, but far more peace and joy, | ||
+ | Brought in that hour my lovely boy. | ||
+ | For through that trance my soul had well | ||
+ | The impress of thy being kept; | ||
+ | And if I waked or if I slept, | ||
+ | No doubt, though memory faithless be, | ||
+ | Thy image ever dwelt on me; | ||
+ | And thus, O Lionel, like thee | ||
+ | Is our sweet child. 'T is sure most strange | ||
+ | I knew not of so great a change | ||
+ | As that which gave him birth, who now | ||
+ | Is all the solace of my woe. | ||
+ | |||
+ | That Lionel great wealth had left | ||
+ | By will to me, and that of all | ||
+ | The ready lies of law bereft | ||
+ | My child and me,--might well befall. | ||
+ | But let me think not of the scorn | ||
+ | Which from the meanest I have borne, | ||
+ | When, for my child' | ||
+ | I mixed with slaves, to vindicate | ||
+ | The very laws themselves do make; | ||
+ | Let me not say scorn is my fate, | ||
+ | Lest I be proud, suffering the same | ||
+ | With those who live in deathless fame. | ||
+ | |||
+ | She ceased.--' | ||
+ | Is burning o'er the dew!' said Rosalind. | ||
+ | And with these words they rose, and towards the flood | ||
+ | Of the blue lake, beneath the leaves, now wind | ||
+ | With equal steps and fingers intertwined. | ||
+ | Thence to a lonely dwelling, where the shore | ||
+ | Is shadowed with steep rocks, and cypresses | ||
+ | Cleave with their dark green cones the silent skies | ||
+ | And with their shadows the clear depths below, | ||
+ | |||
+ | And where a little terrace from its bowers | ||
+ | Of blooming myrtle and faint lemon flowers | ||
+ | Scatters its sense-dissolving fragrance o'er | ||
+ | The liquid marble of the windless lake; | ||
+ | And where the aged forest' | ||
+ | Under the leaves which their green garments make, | ||
+ | They come. 'T is Helen' | ||
+ | Like one which tyrants spare on our own land | ||
+ | In some such solitude; its casements bright | ||
+ | Shone through their vine-leaves in the morning sun, | ||
+ | And even within 't was scarce like Italy. | ||
+ | And when she saw how all things there were planned | ||
+ | As in an English home, dim memory | ||
+ | Disturbed poor Rosalind; she stood as one | ||
+ | Whose mind is where his body cannot be, | ||
+ | Till Helen led her where her child yet slept, | ||
+ | And said, ' | ||
+ | Those lips were his, and so he ever kept | ||
+ | One arm in sleep, pillowing his head with it. | ||
+ | You cannot see his eyes--they are two wells | ||
+ | Of liquid love. Let us not wake him yet.' | ||
+ | But Rosalind could bear no more, and wept | ||
+ | A shower of burning tears which fell upon | ||
+ | His face, and so his opening lashes shone | ||
+ | With tears unlike his own, as he did leap | ||
+ | In sudden wonder from his innocent sleep. | ||
+ | |||
+ | So Rosalind and Helen lived together | ||
+ | Thenceforth--changed in all else, yet friends again, | ||
+ | Such as they were, when o'er the mountain heather | ||
+ | They wandered in their youth through sun and rain. | ||
+ | And after many years, for human things | ||
+ | Change even like the ocean and the wind, | ||
+ | Her daughter was restored to Rosalind, | ||
+ | And in their circle thence some visitings | ||
+ | Of joy 'mid their new calm would intervene. | ||
+ | A lovely child she was, of looks serene, | ||
+ | And motions which o'er things indifferent shed | ||
+ | The grace and gentleness from whence they came. | ||
+ | And Helen' | ||
+ | From the same flowers of thought, until each mind | ||
+ | Like springs which mingle in one flood became; | ||
+ | And in their union soon their parents saw | ||
+ | The shadow of the peace denied to them. | ||
+ | And Rosalind--for when the living stem | ||
+ | Is cankered in its heart, the tree must fall-- | ||
+ | Died ere her time; and with deep grief and awe | ||
+ | The pale survivors followed her remains | ||
+ | Beyond the region of dissolving rains, | ||
+ | Up the cold mountain she was wont to call | ||
+ | Her tomb; and on Chiavenna' | ||
+ | They raised a pyramid of lasting ice, | ||
+ | Whose polished sides, ere day had yet begun, | ||
+ | Caught the first glow of the unrisen sun, | ||
+ | The last, when it had sunk; and through the night | ||
+ | The charioteers of Arctos wheelèd round | ||
+ | Its glittering point, as seen from Helen' | ||
+ | Whose sad inhabitants each year would come, | ||
+ | With willing steps climbing that rugged height, | ||
+ | And hang long locks of hair, and garlands bound | ||
+ | With amaranth flowers, which, in the clime' | ||
+ | Filled the frore air with unaccustomed light; | ||
+ | Such flowers as in the wintry memory bloom | ||
+ | Of one friend left adorned that frozen tomb. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Helen, whose spirit was of softer mould, | ||
+ | Whose sufferings too were less, death slowlier led | ||
+ | Into the peace of his dominion cold. | ||
+ | She died among her kindred, being old. | ||
+ | And know, that if love die not in the dead | ||
+ | As in the living, none of mortal kind | ||
+ | Are blessed as now Helen and Rosalind. | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++72 Chorus from Hellas| | ++++72 Chorus from Hellas| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | The golden years return, | ||
+ | The earth doth like a snake renew | ||
+ | Her winter weeds outworn: | ||
+ | Heaven smiles, and faith and empires gleam, | ||
+ | Like a 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 Ulyssses leaves once more | ||
+ | Calypso for his native shore... | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||
++++73 Poetical Essay| | ++++73 Poetical Essay| | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Millions to fight compell' | ||
+ | In mangled heaps on War's red altar lie . . . | ||
+ | When the legal murders swell the lists of pride; | ||
+ | When glory' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Lost Shelley poem found after 200 years | ||
+ | </ | ||
++++ | ++++ | ||