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My imperial mountains crown'd with cloud, and snow, and fire;

My sea-like forests, every blade and blossom Which finds a grave or cradle in my bosom, Were stamp'd by thy strong hate into a lifeless mire.

How art thou sunk, withdrawn, cover'd, drunk up
By thirsty nothing, as the brackish cup
Drain'd by a desert troop, a little drop for all;

And from beneath, around, within, above,
Filling thy void annihilation, love

Bursts in like light on caves cloven by thunder-ball.

THE MOON.

The snow upon my lifeless mountains
Is loosen'd into living fountains,

My solid oceans flow, and sing, and shine:
A spirit from my heart bursts forth,
It clothes with unexpected birth
My cold bare bosom: Oh! it must be thine
On mine, on mine!

Gazing on thee I feel, I know

Green stalks burst forth, and bright flowers

grow,

And living shapes upon my bosom move:
Music is in the sea and air,
Winged clouds soar here and there,

Dark with the rain new buds are dreaming of: "Tis love, all love!

THE EARTH.

It interpenetrates my granite mass, Through tangled roots and trodden clay doth pass, Into the utmost leaves, and delicatest flowers;

Upon the winds, among the clouds 'tis spread, It wakes a life in the forgotten dead, They breathe a spirit up from their obscurest bowers,

And like a storm bursting its cloudy prison With thunder, and with whirlwind, has arisen Out of the lampless caves of unimagined being : With earthquake shock and swiftness making shiver

Thought's stagnant chaos, unremoved for ever, Till hate, and fear and pain, light-vanquish'd shadows, fleeing,

Leave man, who was a many-sided mirror, Which could distort to many a shape of error, This true fair world of things, a sea reflecting love; Which over all his kind, as the sun's heaven Gliding o'er ocean, smooth, serene, and even Darting from starry depths radiance and light, doth

move,

Leave man, even as a leprous child is left, Who follows a sick beast to some warm cleft Of rocks, through which the might of healing springs is pour'd;

Then when it wanders home with rosy smile,
Unconscious, and its mother fears awhile

It is a spirit, then weeps on her child restored.

Man, oh, not men! a chain of linked thought,
Of love and might to be divided not,

Compelling the elements with adamantine stress;
As the sun rules, even with a tyrant's gaze,
The unquiet republic of the maze

Man, one harmonious soul of many a soul, Whose nature is its own divine control, Where all things flow to all, as rivers to the sea; Familiar acts are beautiful through love; Labor, and pain, and grief, in life's green grove Sport like tame beasts, none knew how gentle they could be!

His will, with all mean passions, bad delights
And selfish cares, its trembling satellites,

A spirit ill to guide, but mighty to obey,

Is as a tempest-winged ship, whose helm

Love rules, through waves which dare not overwhelm,

Forcing life's wildest shores to own its sovereign sway.

All things confess his strength. Through the cold mass

Of marble and of color his dreams pass; Bright threads whence mothers weave the robes their children wear;

Language is a perpetual orphic song,

Which rules with Dædal harmony a throng Of thoughts and forms, which else senseless and shapeless were.

The lightning is his slave; heaven's utmost deep Gives up her stars, and like a flock of sheep They pass before his eye, are number'd, and roll on' The tempest is his steed, he strides the air And the abyss shouts from her depth laid bare, Heaven, hast thou secrets? Man unveils me; I have

none.

THE MOON.

The shadow of white death has past From my path in heaven at last, A clinging shroud of solid frost and sleep; And through my newly-woven bowers Wander happy paramours, Less mighty, but as mild as those who keep Thy vales more deep.

THE EARTH.

As the dissolving warmth of dawn may fold A half-infrozen dew-globe, green, and gold, And crystalline, till it becomes a winged mist,

And wanders up the vault of the blue day, Outlives the noon, and on the sun's last ray Hangs o'er the sea, a fleece of fire and amethyst.

THE MOON.

Thou art folded, thou art lying In the light which is undying Of thine own joy, and heaven's smile divine, All suns and constellations shower On thee a light, a life, a power Which doth array thy sphere; thou pourest thine On mine, on mine!

THE EARTH.

I spin beneath my pyramid of night,

Which points into the heavens dreaming delight Murmuring victorious joy in my enchanted sleep; As a youth lull'd in love-dreams faintly sighing Under the shadow of his beauty lying,

Of planets, struggling fierce towards heaven's free Which round his rest a watch of light and warmth

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THE MOON.

As in the soft and sweet eclipse,
When soul meets soul on lovers' lips,

High hearts are calm, and brightest eyes are dull;
So when thy shadow falls on me,
Then am I mute and still, by thee
Cover'd; of thy love, Orb most beautiful,
Full, oh! too full!

Thou art speeding round the sun,
Brightest world of many a one;
Green and azure sphere which shinest
With a light which is divinest
Among all the lamps of Heaven
To whom life and light is given;
I, thy crystal paramour
Borne beside thee by a power
Like the polar Paradise,
Magnet-like, of lovers' eyes;
I, a most enamour'd maiden,
Whose weak brain is overladen
With the pleasure of her love,
Maniac-like around thee move
Gazing, an insatiate bride,
On thy form from every side
Like a Mænad, round the cup
Which Agave lifted up
In the weird Cadmean forest.
Brother, wheresoe'er thou soarest
I must hurry, whirl and follow

Through the Heavens wide and hollow,
Shelter'd by the warm embrace
Of thy soul from hungry space,
Drinking from thy sense and sight
Beauty, majesty, and might,
As a lover or a cameleon
Grows like what it looks upon,
As a violet's gentle eye
Gazes on the azure sky

Until its hue grows like what it beholds,
As a gray and watery mist
Glows like solid amethyst

Athwart the western mountain it infolds,
When the sunset sleeps

Upon its snow.

THE EARTH.

And the weak day weeps

That it should be so.

Oh, gentle Moon! the voice of thy delight Falls on me like thy clear and tender light Soothing the seaman, borne the summer night Through isles for ever calm;

Oh, gentle Moon! thy crystal accents pierce The caverns of my pride's deep universe, Charming the tiger joy, whose tramplings fierce Made wounds which need thy balm.

PANTHEA.

I rise as from a bath of sparkling water. A bath of azure light, among dark rocks, Out of the stream of sound.

IONE.

Ah me! sweet sister, The stream of sound has ebb'd away from us, And you pretend to rise out of its wave,

Because your words fall like the clear, soft dew Shaken from a bathing wood-nymph's limbs and hair

PANTHEA.

Peace! peace! A mighty Power, which is as darkness
Is rising out of Earth, and from the sky

Is shower'd like night, and from within the air
Bursts, like eclipse which had been gather'd up
Into the pores of sunlight: the bright visions,
Wherein the singing spirits rode and shone,
Gleam like pale meteors through a watery night

IONE.

There is a sense of words upon mine ear.

PANTHEA.

A universal sound like words: Oh, list!

DEMOGORGON.

Thou, Earth, calm empire of a happy soul!
Sphere of divinest shapes and harmonies,
Beautiful orb! gathering as thou dost roll
The love which paves thy path along the skies:

THE EARTH.

I hear: I am as a drop of dew that dies.

DEMOGORGON.

Thou, Moon, which gazest on the nightly Earth

With wonder, as it gazes upon thee;

Whilst each to men, and beasts, and the swift birth Of birds, is beauty, love, calm, harmony:

THE MOON.

I hear: I am a leaf shaken by thee!

DEMOGORGON.

Ye kings of suns and stars! Demons and Gods, Ethereal Dominations! who possess

Elysian, windless, fortunate abodes

Beyond Heaven's constellated wilderness:

A VOICE FROM ABOVE.

Our great Republic hears: we are blest, and bless.

DEMOGORGON.

Ye happy dead! whom beams of brightest verse
Are clouds to hide, not colors to portray,
Whether your nature is that universe
Which once ye saw and suffer'd-

A VOICE FROM BENEATH.

Or as they Whom we have left, we change and pass away

DEMOGORGON.

Ye elemental Genii, who have homes

From man's high mind even to the central stone Of sullen lead; from Heaven's star-fretted domes To the dull weed some sea-worm battens on

A CONFUSED VOICE.

We hear: thy words waken Oblivion.

DEMOGORGON.

Spirits! whose homes are flesh; ye beasts and birds, Ye worms, and fish; ye living leaves and buds; Lightning and wind; and ye untamable herds, Meteors and mists, which throng air's solitudes:

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Hath then the gloomy Power Whose reign is in the tainted sepulchres Seized on her sinless soul?

Must then that peerless form

Which love and admiration cannot view
Without a beating heart, those azure veins

Which steal like streams along a field of snow,
That lovely outline, which is fair

As breathing marble, perish?
Must putrefaction's breath

Leave nothing of this heavenly sight
But lothesomeness and ruin?
Spare nothing but a gloomy theme,

On which the lightest heart might moralize?
Or is it only a sweet slumber

Stealing o'er sensation,

Which the breath of roseate morning
Chaseth into darkness?
Will Ianthe wake again,
And give that faithful bosom joy
Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch
Light, life and rapture from her smile?

Yes! she will wake again, Although her glowing limbs are motionless, And silent those sweet lips, Once breathing eloquence,

That might have soothed a tiger's rage, Or thaw'd the cold heart of a conqueror.

Her dewy eyes are closed,

And on their lids, whose texture fine Scarce hides the dark-blue orbs beneath,

The baby Sleep is pillow'd:

Her golden tresses shade

The bosom's stainless pride,

Curling like tendrils of the parasite

Around a marble column.

Hark! whence that rushing sound?

"Tis like the wondrous strain

That round a lonely ruin swells,

Which, wandering on the echoing shore,
The enthusiast hears at evening:
"Tis softer than the west wind's sigh;
"Tis wilder than the unmeasured notes
Of that strange lyre whose strings
The genii of the breezes sweep:
Those lines of rainbow light

Are like the moonbeams when they fall
Through some cathedral window, but the teints
Are such as may not find
Comparison on earth.

Behold the chariot of the Fairy Queen! Celestial coursers paw the unyielding air; Their filmy pennons at her word they furl, And stop obedient to the reins of light:

These the Queen of spells drew in, She spread a charm around the spot, And leaning graceful from the ethereal car, Long did she gaze, and silently, Upon the slumbering maid.

Oh! not the vision'd poet in his dreams,
When silvery clouds float through the wilder'd brain
When every sight of lovely, wild and grand,
Astonishes, enraptures, elevates,
When fancy at a glance combines

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I am the Fairy MAB: to me 'tis given
The wonders of the human world to keep;
The secrets of the immeasurable past,
In the unfailing consciences of men,
Those stern, unflattering chroniclers, I find :
The future, from the causes which arise
In each event, I gather: not the sting
Which retributive memory implants
In the hard bosom of the selfish man;
Nor that ecstatic and exulting throb
Which virtue's votary feels when he sums up
The thoughts and actions of a well-spent day,
Are unforeseen, unregister'd by me:
And it is yet permitted me to rend
The veil of mortal frailty, that the spirit
Clothed in its changeless purity, may know
How soonest to accomplish the great end
For which it hath its being, and may taste
That peace, which in the end all life will share
This is the meed of virtue; happy Soul,

Ascend the car with me!

The chains of earth's immurement

Fell from Ianthe's spirit;

They shrank and brake like bandages of straw

Beneath a waken'd giant's strength. She knew her glorious change, And felt in apprehension uncontroll'd New raptures opening round: Each day-dream of her mortal life, Each frenzied vision of the slumbers That closed each well-spent day, Seem'd now to meet reality.

The Fairy and the Soul proceeded;
The silver clouds disparted;
And as the car of magic they ascended,
Again the speechless music swell'd,
Again the coursers of the air

Unfurl'd their azure pennons, and the Queen,
Shaking the beamy reins,
Bade them pursue their way.

The magic car moved on.

The night was fair, and countless stars
Studded heaven's dark-blue vault,-

Just o'er the eastern wave
Peep'd the first faint smile of morn :-
The magic car moved on-
From the celestial hoofs

The atmosphere in flaming sparkles flew,
And where the burning wheels
Eddied above the mountain's loftiest peak,
Was traced a line of lightning.

Now it flew far above a rock,

The utmost verge of earth,

The rival of the Andes, whose dark brow Lower'd o'er the silver sea.

Far, far below the chariot's path
Calm as a slumbering babe,
Tremendous Ocean lay.
The mirror of its stillness show'd
The pale and waning stars,
The chariot's fiery track,
And the gray light of morn
Tinging those fleecy clouds
That canopied the dawn.

Seem'd it, that the chariot's way

Lay through the midst of an immense concave,

Radiant with million constellations, tinged

With shades of infinite color,

And semicircled with a belt
Flashing incessant meteors.

The magic car moved on.

As they approach'd their goal, The coursers seem'd to gather speed; The sea no longer was distinguish'd; earth Appear'd a vast and shadowy sphere:

The sun's unclouded orb

Roll'd through the black concave; (1)
Its rays of rapid light

Parted around the chariot's swifter course,
And fell, like ocean's feathery spray

Dash'd from the boiling surge

Before a vessel's prow.

The magic car moved on.

Earth's distant orb appear'd

The smallest light that twinkles in the heaven;

Whilst round the chariot's way
Innumerable systems roll'd, (2)
And countless spheres diffused
An ever-varying glory.

It was a sight of wonder: some
Were horned like the crescent moon;
Some shed a mild and silver beam
Like Hesperus o'er the western sea;
Some dash'd athwart with trains of flame,
Like worlds to death and ruin driven;
Some shone like suns, and as the chariot pass'd
Eclipsed all other light.

Spirit of Nature! here!

In this interminable wilderness
Of worlds, at whose immensity
Even soaring fancy staggers,
Here is thy fitting temple.

Yet not the slightest leaf
That quivers to the passing breeze
Is less instinct with thee:

Yet not the meanest worm

That lurks in graves and fattens on the dead
Less shares thy eternal breath.

Spirit of Nature! thou!
Imperishable as this scene,
Here is thy fitting temple.

II.

IF solitude hath ever led thy steps
To the wild ocean's echoing shore,
And thou hast linger'd there,
Until the sun's broad orb

Seem'd resting on the burnish'd wave,
Thou must have mark'd the lines

Of purple gold, that motionless

Hung o'er the sinking sphere:

Thou must have mark'd the billowy clouds
Edged with intolerable radiancy,

Towering like rocks of jet

Crown'd with a diamond wreath.

And yet there is a moment,

When the sun's highest point

Peeps like a star o'er ocean's western edge,
When those far clouds of feathery gold,
Shaded with deepest purple, gleam
Like islands on a dark-blue sea;
Then has thy fancy soar'd above the earth,
And furl'd its wearied wing
Within the Fairy's fane.

Yet not the golden island
Gleaming in yon flood of light,

Nor the feathery curtains
Stretching o'er the sun's bright couch,
Nor the burnish'd ocean waves

Paving that gorgeous dome,

So fair, so wonderful a sight

As Mab's ethereal palace could afford.
Yet likest evening's vault, that fairy Hall!
As Heaven, low resting on the wave, it spread
Its floors of flashing light,
Its vast and azure dome,
Its fertile golden islands
Floating on a silver sea;

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