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Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee)— If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought By blood or tears, have not the wise and free Wept tears, and blood like tears?"—The solemn harmony

Paused, and the Spirit of that mighty singing

To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn.
Then, as a wild swan, when sublimely winging
Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of dawn,
Sinks headlong through the aerial golden light
On the heavy-sounding plain,
When the bolt has pierced its brain;
As summer clouds dissolve unburthened of their rain;
As a far taper fades with fading night;

As a brief insect dies with dying day;
My song, its pinions disarrayed of might,

Drooped. O'er it closed the echoes far away Of the great voice which did its flight sustain,— As waves which lately paved his watery way Hiss round a drowner's head in their tempestuous play.

Arethusa arose

From her couch of snows

In the Acroceraunian mountains,—
From cloud and from crag,
With many a jag,

Shepherding her bright fountains.
She leapt down the rocks,
With her rainbow locks

Streaming among the streams;

Her steps paved with green
The downward ravine

Which slopes to the western gleams:
And gliding and springing
She went, ever singing

In murmurs as soft as sleep.

The Earth seemed to love her,
And Heaven smiled above her,

As she lingered towards the deep.

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Then Alpheus bold,

On his glacier cold, With his trident the mountains strook,

And opened a chasm

In the rocks:—with the spasm All Erymanthus shook.

And the black south wind

It concealed behind The urns of the silent snow,

And earthquake and thunder

Did rend in sunder
The bars of the springs below.

The beard and the hair

Of the River-god were Seen through the torrent's sweep,

As he followed the light

Of the fleet Nymph's flight To the brink of the Dorian deep.

"Oh save me! Oh guide me!
And bid the deep hide me!

For he grasps me now by the hair!"
The loud Ocean heard,
To its blue depth stirred,

And divided at her prayer;
And under the water
The Earth's white daughter

Fled like a sunny beam;

Behind her descended
Her billows, unblended

With the brackish Dorian stream.
Like a gloomy stain
On the emerald main,

Alpheus rushed behind,—
As an eagle pursuing
A dove to its ruin

Down the streams of the cloudy wind.


Under the bowers
Where the Ocean Powers

Sit on their pearled thrones;

Through the coral woods
Of the weltering floods;

Over heaps of unvalued stones;
Through the dim beams
Which amid the streams

Weave a network of coloured light;
And under the caves
Where the shadowy waves

Are as green as the forest's night:
Outspeeding the shark,
And the sword-fish dark,—

Under the ocean foam,

And up through the rifts
Of the mountain clifts,—

They passed to their Dorian home.


And now from their fountains

In Enna's mountains,
Down one vale where the morning basks,

Like friends once parted

Grown single-hearted,
They ply their watery tasks.

At sunrise they leap

From their cradles steep
In the cave of the shelving hill;

At noontide they flow

Through the woods below,
And the meadows of asphodel;

And at night they sleep

In the rocking deep
Beneath the Ortygian shore,—

Like spirits that lie

In the azure sky,
When they love but live no more.

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The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries

From the broad moonlight of the sky,
Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes,
Waken me when their Mother, the grey Dawn,
Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone.

iI. Then I arise, and, climbing heaven's blue dome,

I walk over the mountains and the waves, Leaving my robe upon the ocean foam ;—

My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves Are filled with my bright presence; and the air Leaves the green Earth to my embraces bare.

111. The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill

Deceit, that loves the night and fears the day;
All men who do or even imagine ill

Fly me, and from the glory of rrty ray
Good minds and open actions take new might,
Until diminished by the reign of Night.


I feed the clouds, the rainbows, and the flowers,
With their etherial colours; the moon's globe,

And the pure stars in their eternal bowers,
Are cinctured with my power as with a robe;

Whatever lamps on earth or heaven may shine

Are portions of one power, which is mine.

v. I stand at noon upon the peak of heaven;

Then with unwilling steps I wander down Into the clouds of the Atlantic even;

For grief that I depart they weep and frown. What look is more delightful than the smile With which I soothe them from the western isle? VI.

I am the eye with which the universe
Beholds itself, and knows itself divine;

All harmony of instrument or verse,
All prophecy, all medicine, are mine,

All light of art or nature ;—to my song

Victory and praise in its own right belong.


From the forests and highlands

We come, we come;
From the river-girt islands,
Where loud waves are dumb
Listening to my sweet pipings.
The wind in the reeds and the rushes,

The bees on the bells of thyme,
The birds on the myrtle bushes,
The cicale above in the lime,
And the lizards below in the grass,
Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was,
Listening to my sweet pipings.

Liquid Peneus was flowing,
And all dark Tempe lay
In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing

The light of the dying day,
Speeded by my sweet pipings.
The Sileni and Sylvans and Fauns,

And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,
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 daedal earth,
And of heaven, and the Giant wars,

And love, and death, and birth.
And then I changed my pipings,—

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