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XVIII.

Yes, oft beside the ruin'd labyrinth
Which skirts the hoary caves of the green deep,
Did Laon and his friend on one gray plinth,

Round whose worn base the wild waves hiss and leap,

Resting at eve, a lofty converse keep;

And that this friend was false, may now be said Calmly-that he like other men could weep Tears which are lies, and could betray and spread Snares for that guileless heart which for his own had bled.

XIX.

Then, had no great aim recompensed my sorrow, I must have sought dark respite from its stress, In dreamless rest, in sleep that sees no morrowFor to tread life's dismaying wilderness

Without one smile to cheer, one voice to bless, Amid the snares and scoffs of human-kind, Is hard-but I betray'd it not, nor less With love that scorn'd return, sought to unbind The interwoven clouds which make its wisdom blind.

XX.

With deathless minds which leave where they have past

A path of light, my soul communion knew;
Till from that glorious intercourse, at last,
As from a mine of magic store, I drew
Words which were weapons;-round my heart

there grew

The adamantine armor of their power, And from my fancy wings of golden hue Sprang forth-yet not alone from wisdom's tower, A minister of truth, these plumes young Laon bore. XXI.

An orphan with my parents lived, whose eyes Were load-stars of delight, which drew me home When I might wander forth; nor did I prize Aught human thing beneath Heaven's mighty dome Beyond this child: so when sad hours were come, And baffled hope like ice still clung to me, Since kin were cold, and friends had now become Heartless and false, I turn'd from all, to be, Cythna, the only source of tears and smiles to thee.

XXII.

What wert thou then? A child most infantine, Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age In all but its sweet looks and mien divine; Even then, methought, with the world's tyrant rage A patient warfare thy young heart did wage, When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought, Some tale, or thine own fancies would engage To overflow with tears, or converse fraught With passion, o'er their depths its fleeting light had wrought.

XXIII.

She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness,
A power, that from its objects scarcely drew
One impulse of her being-in her lightness
Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew,
Which wanders through the waste air's pathless
blue,

To nourish some far desert; she did seem
Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew,
Like the bright shade of some immortal dream
Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the wave of
life's dark stream.

XXIV.

As mine own shadow was this child to me, A second self, far dearer and more fair; Which clothed in undissolving radiancy All those steep paths which languor and despair Of human things, had made so dark and bare, But which I trod alone-nor, till bereft Of friends, and overcome by lonely care, Knew I what solace for that loss was left, Though by a bitter wound my trusting heart was

cleft.

XXV.

Once she was dear, now she was all I had
To love in human life-this playmate sweet,
This child of twelve years old-so she was made
My sole associate, and her willing feet
Wander'd with mine where earth and ocean meet,
Beyond the aerial mountains whose vast cells
The unreposing billows ever beat,

Through forests wide and old, and lawny dells, Where boughs of incense droop over the emerald wells.

XXVI.

And warm and light I felt her clasping hand When twined in mine: she follow'd where I went, Through the lone paths of our immortal land. It had no waste, but some memorial lent Which strung me to my toil-some monument Vital with mind: then, Cythna by my side, Until the bright and beaming day were spent, Would rest, with looks entreating to abide, Too earnest and too sweet ever to be denied.

XXVII.

And soon I could not have refused her-thus For ever, day and night, we two were ne'er Parted, but when brief sleep divided us: And when the pauses of the lulling air Of noon beside the sea, had made a lair For her soothed senses, in my arms she slept, And I kept watch over her slumbers there, While, as the shifting visions o'er her swept, Amid her innocent rest by turns she smiled and wept

XXVIII.

And, in the murmur of her dreams was heard
Sometimes the name of Laon:-suddenly
She would arise, and like the secret bird
Whom sunset wakens, fill the shore and sky
With her sweet accents-a wild melody!
Hymns which my soul had woven to Freedom
strong

The source of passion whence they rose, to be; Triumphant strains, which, like a spirit's tongue, To the enchanted waves that child of glory sung.

XXIX.

Her white arms lifted through the shadowy stream Of her loose hair-oh, excellently great Seem'd to me then my purpose, the vast theme Of those impassion'd songs, when Cythna sate Amid the calm which rapture doth create After its tumult, her heart vibrating, Her spirit o'er the ocean's floating state From her deep eyes far wandering, on the wing Of visions that were mine, beyond its utmost spring

XXX.

For, before Cythna loved it, had my song
Peopled with thoughts the boundless universe,
A mighty congregation, which were strong
Where'er they trod the darkness to disperse
The cloud of that unutterable curse

Which clings upon mankind :-all things became
Slaves to my holy and heroic verse,

Earth, sea and sky, the planets, life and fame

And fate, or whate'er else binds the world's wondrous frame.

XXXI.

And this beloved child thus felt the sway Of my conceptions, gathering like a cloud The very wind on which it rolls away: Hers too were all my thoughts, ere yet endow'd With music and with light, their fountains flow'd In poesy; and her still and earnest face, Pallid with feelings which intensely glow'd Within, was turn'd on mine with speechless grace, Watching the hopes which there her heart had learn'd

to trace.

XXXII.

In me, communion with this purest being Kindled intenser zeal, and made me wise In knowledge, which in hers mine own mind seeing Left in the human world few mysteries: How without fear of evil or disguise Was Cythna!-what a spirit strong and mild, Which death, or pain or peril could despise, Yet melt in tenderness! what genius wild, Yet mighty, was inclosed within one simple child!

XXXIII.

New lore was this-old age with its gray hair,
And wrinkled legends of unworthy things,
And icy sneers, is naught: it cannot dare
To burst the chains which life for ever flings
On the entangled soul's aspiring wings,
So is it cold and cruel, and is made

The careless slave of that dark power which brings Evil, like blight on man, who, still betray'd, Laughs o'er the grave in which his living hopes are laid.

XXXIV.

Nor are the strong and the severe to keep
The empire of the world: thus Cythna taught
Even in the visions of her eloquent sleep,
Unconscious of the power through which she
wrought

The woof of such intelligible thought,

As from the tranquil strength which cradled lay
In her smile-peopled rest, my spirit sought
Why the deceiver and the slave has sway
O'er heralds so divine of truth's arising day.
XXXV.

Within that fairest form, the female mind
Untainted by the poison-clouds which rest
On the dark world, a sacred home did find :
But else, from the wide earth's maternal breast,
Victorious Evil, which had dispossest

All native power, had those fair children torn,
And made them slaves to soothe his vile unrest,
And minister to lust its joys forlorn,

Till they had learn'd to breathe the atmosphere of

scorn.

XXXVI.

This misery was but coldly felt, till she
Became my only friend, who had indued
My purpose with a wider sympathy;
Thus, Cythna mourn'd with me the servitude
In which the half of human-kind were mew'd,
Victims of lust and hate, the slaves of slaves.
She mourn'd that grace and power were thrown
as food

To the hyena Lust, who, among graves,
Over his lothed meal, laughing in agony, raves.

XXXVII.

And I, still gazing on that glorious child.

Even as these thoughts flush'd o'er her." Cythna

sweet,

Well with the world art thou unreconciled: Never will peace and human nature meet Till free and equal man and woman greet Domestic peace; and ere this power can make In human hearts its calm and holy seat: This slavery must be broken."-As I spake, From Cythna's eyes a light of exultation brake.

XXXVIII.

She replied earnestly:-"It shall be mine, This task, mine, Laon!-thou hast much to gain ; Nor wilt thou at poor Cythna's pride repine, If she should lead a happy female train To meet thee over the rejoicing plain, When myriads at thy call shall throng around The Golden City."-Then the child did strain My arm upon her tremulous heart, and wound Her own about my neck, till some reply she found.

XXXIX.

I smiled and spake not-"Wherefore dost thou smile
At what I say? Laon, I am not weak,
And though my cheek might become pale the while,
With thee, if thou desirest, will I seek
Through their array of banded slaves to wreak
Ruin upon the tyrants. I had thought

It was more hard to turn my unpractised cheek
To scorn and shame, and this beloved spot
And thee, O dearest friend, to leave and murmur not

XL.

"Whence came I what I am? thou, Laon, knowest How a young child should thus undaunted be; Methinks, it is a power which thou bestowest, Through which I seek, by most resembling thee. So to become most good, and great and free, Yet far beyond this Ocean's utmost roar In towers and huts are many like to me, Who, could they see thine eyes, or feel such lore As I have learnt from them, like me would fear no more

XLI.

"Think'st thou that I shall speak unskilfully,
And none will heed me? I remember now,
How once, a slave in tortures doom'd to die,
Was saved, because in accents sweet and low
He sung a song his Judge loved long ago,
As he was led to death.-All shall relent
Who hear me-tears as mine have flow'd, shall

flow,

Hearts beat as mine now beats, with such intent As renovates the world; a will omnipotent'

44

XLII.

Yes, I will tread Pride's golden palaces, Through Penury's roofless huts and squalid cells Will I descend, where'er in abjectness Woman with some vile slave her tyrant dwells, There with the music of thine own sweet spells Will disenchant the captives, and will pour For the despairing, from the crystal wells Of thy deep spirit, reason's mighty lore,

XLVIII.

"We part to meet again—but yon blue waste,
Yon desert wide and deep holds no recess,
Within whose happy silence, thus embraced
We might survive all ills in one caress:
Nor doth the grave-I fear 'tis passionless-
Nor yon cold vacant Heaven-we meet again
Within the minds of men, whose lips shall bless
Our memory, and whose hopes its light retain

And power shall then abound, and hope arise once When these dissever'd bones are trodden in the

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IV.

Morn fled, noon came, evening, then night de-
scended,

And we prolong'd calm talk beneath the sphere
Of the calm moon-when suddenly was blended
With our repose a nameless sense of fear;
And from the cave behind I seem'd to hear
Sounds gathering upwards!-accents incomplete,
And stifled shrieks,-and now, more near and near,
A tumult and a rush of thronging feet

X.

These words had fallen on my unheeding ear,
Whilst I had watch'd the motions of the crew
With seeming careless glance; not many were
Around her, for their comrades just withdrew
To guard some other victim-so I drew
My knife, and with one impulse, suddenly
All unaware three of their number slew,
And grasp'd a fourth by the throat, and with loud
cry

The cavern's secret depths beneath the earth did beat. My countrymen invoked to death or liberty!

V.

The scene was changed, and away, away, away!
Through the air and over the sea we sped,
And Cythna in my sheltering bosom lay,
And the winds bore me--through the darkness spread
Around, the gaping earth then vomited
Legions of foul and ghastly shapes, which hung
Upon my flight; and ever, as we fled,

They pluck'd at Cythna-soon to me then clung
A sense of actual things those monstrous dreams among.

VI.

And I lay struggling in the impotence

Of sleep, while outward life had burst its bound,
Though, still deluded, strove the tortured sense
To its dire wanderings to adapt the sound
Which in the light of morn was pour'd around
Our dwelling-breathless, pale, and unaware
I rose, and all the cottage crowded found
With armed men, whose glittering swords were bare,
And whose degraded limbs the tyrant's garb did wear.

VII.

And ere with rapid lips and gather'd brow
I could demand the cause-a feeble shriek-
It was a feeble shriek, faint, far and low,
Arrested me-my mien grew calm and meek,
And grasping a small knife, I went to seek
That voice among the crowd-'t was Cythna's cry!
Beneath most calm resolve did agony wreak
Its whirlwind rage:-so I past quietly

Till I beheld, where bound, that dearest child did lie.

VIII.

I started to behold her, for delight
And exultation, and a joyance free,
Solemn, serene and lofty, fill'd the light

Of the calm smile with which she look'd on me:
So that I fear'd some brainless ecstasy,
Wrought from that bitter woe, had wilder'd her-
"Farewell! farewell!" she said, as I drew nigh.
"At first my peace was marr'd by this strange stir,
Now I am calm as truth-its chosen minister.

IX.

"Look not so, Laon-say farewell in hope,
These bloody men are but the slaves who bear
Their mistress to her task-it was my scope
The slavery where they drag me now, to share,
And among captives willing chains to wear
Awhile the rest thou knowest-return, dear friend!
Let our first triumph trample the despair
Which would ensnare us now, for in the end,

XI.

What follow'd then, I know not-for a stroke
On my raised arm and naked head, came down,
Filling my eyes with blood-when I awoke,
I felt that they had bound me in my swoon,
And up a rock which overhangs the town,
By the steep path were bearing me: below,
The plain was fill'd with slaughter,-overthrown
The vineyards and the harvests, and the glow
Of blazing roofs shone far o'er the white Ocean's flow.

XII.

Upon that rock a mighty column stood,
Whose capitol seemed sculptured in the sky,
Which to the wanderers o'er the solitude
Of distant seas, from ages long gone by,
Had made a landmark; o'er its height to fly
Scarcely the cloud, the vulture, or the blast
Has power-and when the shades of evening lie
On Earth and Ocean, its carved summits cast
The sunken daylight far through the aërial waste.

XIII.

They bore me to a cavern in the hill

Beneath that column, and unbound me there:
And one did strip me stark; and one did fill
A vessel from the putrid pool; one bare
A lighted torch, and four with friendless care
Guided my steps the cavern-paths along,
Then up a steep and dark and narrow stair
We wound, until the torches' fiery tongue
Amid the gushing day beamless and pallid hung.

XIV.

They raised me to the platform of the pile,
That column's dizzy height:-the grate of brass
Through which they thrust me, open stood the while,
As to its ponderous and suspended mass,
With chains which eat into the flesh, alas!
With brazen links, my naked limbs they bound:
The grate, as they departed to repass,

With horrid clangor fell, and the far sound
Of their retiring steps in the dense gloom was drown'd.

XV.

The noon was calm and bright:-around that column
The overhanging sky and circling sea
Spread forth in silentness profound and solemn
The darkness of brief frenzy cast on me,
So that I knew not my own misery:
The islands and the mountains in the day
Like clouds reposed afar; and I could see
The town among the woods below that lay,

In victory or in death our hopes and fears must And the dark rocks which bound the bright and glassy

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And watch'd it with such thoughts as must remain All shapes like mine own self, hideously multiplied.

untold.

XVIII.

I watch'd, until the shades of evening wrapt Earth like an exhalation-then the bark Moved, for that calm was by the sunset snapt. It moved a speck upon the Ocean dark: Soon the wan stars came forth, and I could mark Its path no more!-I sought to close mine eyes, But like the balls, their lids were stiff and stark; I would have risen, but ere that I could rise, My parched skin was split with piercing agonies.

XIX.

I gnaw'd my brazen chain, and sought to sever
Its adamantine links, that I might die:
O Liberty! forgive the base endeavor,
Forgive me, if reserved for victory,

The Champion of thy faith e'er sought to fly.-
That starry night, with its clear silence, sent
Tameless resolve which laugh'd at misery
Into my soul-linked remembrance lent
To that such power, to me such a severe content.

XX.

To breathe, to be, to hope, or to despair And die, I question'd not; nor, though the Sun Its shafts of agony kindling through the air Moved over me, nor though in evening dun, Or when the stars their visible courses run, Or morning, the wide universe was spread In dreary calmness round me, did I shun Its presence, nor seek refuge with the dead From one faint hope whose flower a dropping poison shed,

XXI.

Two days thus past-I neither raved nor died-
Thirst raged within me, like a scorpion's nest
Built in mine entrails: I had spurn'd aside
The water-vessel, while despair possest
My thoughts, and now no drop remain'd! the

uprest

Of the third sun brought hunger-but the crust Which had been left, was to my craving breast Fuel, not food. I chew'd the bitter dust, And bit my bloodless arm, and lick'd the brazen rust.

XXIV.

The sense of day and night, of false and true,
Was dead within me. Yet two visions burst
That darkness-one, as since that hour I knew,
Was not a phantom of the realms accurst,
Where then my spirit dwelt-but of the first
I know not yet, was it a dream or no.
But both, though not distincter, were immersed
In hues which, when through memory's waste they
flow.

Made their divided streams more bright and rapid now
XXV.

Methought that gate was lifted, and the seven
Who brought me thither, four stiff corpses bare,
And from the frieze to the four winds of Heaven
Hung them on high by the entangled hair:
Swarthy were three-the fourth was very fair:
As they retired, the golden moon upsprung,
And eagerly, out in the giddy air,

Leaning that I might eat, I stretch'd and clung Over the shapeless depth in which those corpses hung

XXVI.

A woman's shape, now lank and cold and blue The dwelling of the many-color'd worm, Hung there, the white and hollow cheek I drew To my dry lips-what radiance did inform Those horny eyes? whose was that wither'd form! Alas, alas! it seem'd that Cythna's ghost Laugh'd in those looks, and that the flesh was warm Within my teeth!-a whirlwind keen as frost Then in its sinking gulfs my sickening spirit tost

XXVII.

Then seem'd it that a tameless hurricane Arose, and bore me in its dark career Beyond the sun, beyond the stars that wane On the verge of formless space-it languish'd there, And dying, left a silence lone and drear, More horrible than famine:-in the deep The shape of an old man did then appear, Stately and beautiful, that dreadful sleep His heavenly smiles dispersed, and I could wake and

weep.

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