Imágenes de páginas

Wondering at all it sees. Before Jove reigned
It loved our Bister Asia, and it came
Each leisure hour to drink the liquid light
Out of her eyes, for which it said it thirsted
As one bit by a dipsas, and with her
It made its childish confidence, and told her
All it had known or seen, for it saw much,
Yet idly reasoned what it saw; and called her,
For whence it sprung it knew not, nor do I,
Mother, dear mother.

THE SPIRIT OF THE EARTH (running to Asia).

Mother, dearest mother; May I then talk with thee as I was wont! May I then hide my eyes in thy soft arms, After thy looks have made them tired of joy? May I then play beside thee the long noons, When work is none in the bright silent air 1

I love thee, gentlest being! and henceforth
Can cherish thee unenvied. Speak, I pray:
Thy simple talk once solaced, now delights.

Spirit Op The Earth.
Mother, I am grown wiser, though a child
Cannot be wise like thee, within this day;
And happier too; happier and wiser both, [worms,
Thou knowest that toads, and snakes, and loathly
And venomous and malicious beasts, and boughs'
That bore ill berries in the woods, were ever
A hindrance to my walks o'er the green world:
And that, among the haunts of humankind.
Hard-featured men, or with proud, angry looks,
Or cold, staid gait, or false and hollow smiles,
Or the dull sneer of self-loved ignorance,
Or other such foul masks, with which ill thoughts
Hide that fair being whom we spirits call man;
And women too, ugliest of all things evil,
(Though fair, even in a world where thou art fair,
When good and kind, free and sincere like thee),
When false or frowning made me sick at heart
To pass them, though they slept, and I unseen.
Well, my path lately lay through a great city
Into the woody hills surrounding it:
A sentinel was sleeping at the gate:
When there was heard a sound, so loud, it shook
The towers amid the moonlight, yet more sweet
Than any voice but thine, sweetest of all;
A long, long sound, as it would never end:
And all the inhabitants leapt suddenly
Out of their rest, and gathered in the streets,
Looking in wonder up to Heaven, whilo yet
The music pealed along. I hid myself
Within a fountain in the public square,
Where I lay like the reflex of the moon
Seen in a wave under green leaves; and soon
Those ugly human shapes and visages
Of which I spoke as having wrought mo pain,
Past floating through the air, and fading still
Into the winds that scattered them; and those
From whom they past seemed mild and lovely forms
After some foul disguise had fallen, and all
Were somewhat changed, and after brief surprise
And greetings of delighted wonder, all
Went to their sleep again: and when the dawn
Came, wouldst thou think that toads, and snakes,
Could e'er be beautiful! yet Bo they were, [and efts,
And that with little change of shape or hue:
All things had put their evil nature off:

I cannot tell my joy, when o'er a lake

Upon a drooping bough with nightshade twined,

I saw two azure halcyons clinging downward

And thinning one bright bunch of amber berries

With quick long beaks, and in the deep there lay

Thosc lovely forms imaged as in a sky;

So with my thoughts full of these happy changes,

We meet again, the happiest change of ail.


And never will we part, till thy chaste sister,
Who guides the frozen and inconstant moon,
Will look on thy more warm and equal light
Till her heart thaw like flakes of April snow,
And love thee.


What! as Asia loves Prometheust

Peace, wanton ! thou art yet not old enough.
Think ye by gazing on each other's eyes
To multiply your lovely selves, and fill
With sphered fires the interlunar air?


Nay, mother, while my sister trims her lamp
'Tis hard I should go darkling.


Listen; look:
The SriRiT Of The Hour enters.


We feel what thou hast heard and seen: yet speak.


Soon as the sound had ceased whose thunder filled
The abysses of the sky and the wide earth,
There was a change: the impalpable thin air
And the all-circling sunlight were transformed,
As if the sense of love, dissolved in them,
Had folded itself round the sphered world.
My vision then grew clear, and I could see
Into the mysteries of the universe:
Dizzy as with delight I floated down,
Winnowing the lightsome air with languid plumes,
My coursers sought their birth-place in the sun.
Where they henceforth will live exempt from toil,
Pasturing flowers of vegetable fire.
And where my moonlike car will stand within
A temple, gazed upon by Phidian forms
Of thee, and Asia, and the Earth, and me,
And you fair nymphs, looking the love we feel;
In memory of the tidings it has borne;
Beneath a dome fretted with graven flowers,
Poised on twelve columns of resplendent stone,
And open to the bright and liquid sky.
Yoked to it by an amphisbaenic snake
The likeness of those winged steeds will mock
The flight from which they find repose. Alas,
Whither has wandered now my partial tongue
When all remains untold which ye would hear!
As I have said, I floated to the earth:
It was, as it is still, the pain of bliss
To move, to breathe, to be; I wandering went
Among the haunts and dwellings of mankind,
And first was disappointed not to see
Such mighty change, as I had felt within,
Expressed in outward things; but soon I looked,
And behold, thrones were kingless,and men walked
One with the other even as spirits do,

None fawned, none trampled ; hate, disdain, or fear.

Self-love or self-contempt, on human brows

No more inscribed, as o'er the gate of hell,

■ All hope abandon ye who enter here;"

None frown'd, none trembled, none with eager fear

Gazed on another's eye of cold command,

Until the subject of a tyrant's will

Became, worse fate, the abject of his own,

Which spurred him, likeanoutspent horse,to death.

None wrought his lips in truth-entangling lines

Which smiled the lie his tongue disdained to speak;

None, with firm sneer, trod out in his own heart

The sparks of love and hope till there remained

Those bitter ashes, a soul self-consumed,

And the wretch crept a vampire among men,

Infecting all with his own hideous ill;

None talked that common, false, cold, hollow talk

Which makes the heart deny the yes it breathes,

Vet question that unmeant hypocrisy

With such a self-mistrust as has no name.

And women, too, frank, beautiful, and kind

As the free heaven which rains fresh light and dew

On the wide earth, past; gentle radiant forms,

From custom's evil taint exempt and pure;

Speaking the wisdom once they could not think,

Looking emotions once they feared to feel,

And changed to all which once they dared not be,

Yet being now, made earth like heaven; nor pride,

Nor jealousy, nor envy, nor ill-shame,

The bitterest of those drops of treasured gall,

Spoilt the sweet taste of the nepenthe, love.

Thrones, altars, judgment seats, and prisons;

wherein, And beside which, by wretched men were borne Sceptres, tiaras, swords, and chains, and tomes Of reasoned wrong, gluzed on by ignorance, Were like those monstrous and barbaric shapes,

The ghosts of a no more remembered fame,
Which, from their unworn obelisks, look forth
In triumph o'er the palaces and tombs [round
Of those who were their conquerors: mouldering
Those imaged to the pride of kings and priests,
A dark yet mighty faith, a power as wide
As is the world it wasted, and are now
But an astonishment; even Bo the tools
And emblems of its last captivity,
Amid the dwellings of the peopled earth,
Stand, not o'erthrown, but unregarded now.
And those foul shapes, abhorred by god and man,
Which, under many a name and many a form,
Strange, savage, ghastly, dark, and execrable,
Were Jupiter, the tyrant of the world;
And which the nations, panic-stricken, served
With blood, and hearts broken by long hope, and
Dragged to his altars soiled and garlandless, [love
And slain among men's unreclaiming tears, [hate,
Flattering the thing they feared, which fear was
Frown, mouldering fast, o'er their abandoned

The painted veil, by those who were, called life,
Which mimick'd, as with colours idly spread,
All men believed and hoped, is torn aside;
The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains
Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man
Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless,
Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king
Over himself; just, gentle, wise: but man
Passionless; no, yet free from guilt or paiu,
Which were, for his will made or suffered them,
Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves,
From chance, and death, and mutability,
The clogs of that which else might overaoar
The loftiest star of uiiasccnded heaven,
Pinnacled dim in the intense inane.



tan,—A part of the Fortst near the Cafe of Pkombthkvs. PajtthBa and Ioxe are sUeping.- they awaken gradually during the first Song.


The pale stars are gone! For the sun, their swift Bhepherd To their folds them compelling, In the depths of the dawn, Hastes, in meteor-eclipsing array, and they flee Beyond his blue dwelling, As fawns flee the leopard, But where are ye 1

A Train etfdark Forms and Shadows passes by confusedly singing.

Here, oh! here:

We bear the bier
Of the Father of many a cancelled year!

Spectres we

Of the dead Hours be,
We bear Time to his tomb in eternity.

Strew, oh ! strew
Hair, not yew!

Wet the dusty pall with tears, not dew!

Be the faded flowers

Of Death's bare bowers Spread on the corpse of the King of Hours!

Haste, oh, haste!

As shades are chased, Trembling, by day, from heaven's blue waste.

Wo melt away,

Like dissolving spray,
From the children of a diviner day,

With the lullaby

Of winds that dio
On the bosom of their own harmony!


What dark forms were they!


The past Hours weak and grey,
With the spoil which their toil

Raked together
From the conquest but One could foil.


Have they past!


They have past;
They outspeeded the blast,
While 'tis said, they are fled:

Whither, oh! whither!


To the dark, to the past, to the dead.


Bright clouds float in heaven,
Dew-stars gleam on earth,
Waves assemble on ocean,
They are gathered and driven
By the storm of delight, by the panic of glee!
They shake with emotion,
They dance in their mirth.
But where are ye!

The pine boughs are singing
Old songs with new gladness,
The billows and fountains
Fresh music are flinging,
Like the notes of a spirit from land and from sea;
The storms mock the mountains
With the thunder of gladness,
But where are ye 1


What charioteers are these!


Where are their chariots \


The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth Have drawn back the figured curtain of sleop, Which covered our being and darkened our birth In the deep.


In the deep 1


Oh! below the deep.


A hundred ages we had been kept
Cradled in visions of hate and care,
And each one who waked as his brother slept,
Found the truth—


Worse than his visions were!


We have heard the lute of Hope in sleep;
We have known the voice of Love in dreams,
We have felt the wand of Power, and leap—


As the billows leap in the morning beams!


Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze,
Pierce with song heaven's silent light,

Enchant the day that too swiftly flees,
To check its flight ere the cave of night

Once the hungry Hours were hounds

Which chased the day like a bleeding deer,

And it limped and stumbled with many wounds Through the nightly dells of the desert year.

But now, oh! weave the mystic measure
Of music, and dance, and shapes of light,

Let the Hours, and the spirits of might and
Like the clouds and sunbeams, unite.



See, where the Spirits of the human mind Wrapt in sweet Bounds, as in bright veils, approach.


We join the throng

Of the dance and the song,
By the whirlwind of gladness borne along;

As the flying-fish leap

From the Indian deep,
And mix with the sea-birds half-asleep.


Whence come ye, so wild and so fleet,
For sandals of lightning are on your feet,
And your wings are soft and swift as thought,
And your eyes are as love which is veiled not!


We come from the mind

Of human kind, Which was late so dusk, and obscene, and blind;

Now 'tis an ocean

Of clear emotion,
A heaven of serene and mighty motion.

From that deep abyss
Of wonder and bliss,
Whose caverns are crystal palaces;
From those skiey towers
Where Thought's crowned powers
Sit watching your dance, ye happy Hours I

From the dim recesses

Of woven caresses, Where lovers catch ye by your loose tresses;

From the azure isles,

Where sweet Wisdom smiles, Delaying your ships with her syren wiles.

From the temples high

Of Man's ear and eye,
Roofed over Sculpture and Poesy;

From the murmurings

Of the unsealed springs
Where Science bedews his Dsedal wings.

Years after years,

Through blood, and tears, And a thick hell of hatreds, and hopes, and fears;

We waded and flew,

And the islets were few Where the bud-blighted flowers of happiness grew.

Our feet now, every palm,

Are sandalled with calm, And the dew of our wings is a rain of balm;

And, beyond our eyes,

The human love lies,
Which makes all it gazes on Paradise.


Then weave the web of the mystic measure; From the depths of the sky and the ends of the earth,

Come, swift Spirits of might and of pleasure, Mil the dance and the music of mirth,

As the waves of a thousand streams rush by

To an ocean of splendour and harmony!


Our spoil is won,

Our task is done,
We are free to dive, or soar, or run;

Beyond and around,

Or within the bound
Which clips the world with darkness round.

Well pass the eyes

Of the starry skies
Into the hoar deep to colonize:

Death, Chaos, and Night,

From the sound of our flight,
Shall flee, like mist from a tempest's might.

And Earth, Air, and Light,

And the Spirit of Might, Which drives round the stars in their fiery flight;

And Love, Thought, and Breath,

The powers that quell Death,
Wherever we soar shall assemble beneath.

And our singing shall build
In the void's loose field
A world for the Spirit of Wisdom to wield;
We will take our plan
From the new world of man
And our work shall be called the Promethean.


Break the dance, and scatter the song;
Let some depart, and some remain.

We, beyond heaven, are driven along:


Us the enchantments of earth retain:


Ceaseless, and rapid, and fierce, and free,

With the Spirits which build a new earth and sea,

And a heaven where yet heaven could never be.


Solemn, and slow, and serene, and bright,
Leading the Day, and outspeeding the Night,
With the powers of a world of perfect light.

We whirl, singing loud, round the gathering sphere,
Till the trees, and the beasts, and the clouds appear
From its chaos made calm by love, not fear.


We encircle the ocean and mountains of earth,
And the happy forms of its death and birth
Change to the music of our sweet mirth.


Break the dance, and scatter the song,
Let some depart, and some remain,
Wherever we fly we lead along
In leashes, like star-beams, soft yet strong,
The clouds thatareheavy with love'ssweet rain.

Ha! they are gone!


Yet feel you no delight From the past sweetness i


As the bare green hill When some soft cloud vanishes into rain, Laughs with a thousand drops of sunny water To the unpavilioned sky 1


Even whilst we speak New notes arise. What is that awful sound!


'Tis the deep music of the rolling world,
Kindling within the strings of the waved air
.Eoliau modulations.


Listen too, How every pause is filled with under-notes, Clear, silver, icy, keen awakening tones, Which pierce the sense, and live within the soul, As the sharp stars pierce winter's crystal air And gaze upon themselves within the sea.


But see where, through two openings in the forest
Which hanging branches overcanopy,
And where two runnels of a rivulet,
Between the close moss, violet inwoven,
Have made their path of melody, like sisters
Who part with sighs that they may meet in smiles,
Turning their dear disunion to an isle
Of lovely grief, a wood of sweet sad thoughts;
Two visions of strange radiance float upon
The ocean-like enchantment of strong sound,
Which flows intenser, keener, deeper yet
Under the ground and through the windless air.


I see a chariot like that thinnest boat

In which the mother of the months is borne

By ebbing night into her western cave,

When she upsprings from interlunar dreams,

O'er which is curbed an orblike canopy

Of gentle darkness, and the hills and woods

Distinctly seen through that dusk airy veil,

Regard like shapes in an enchanter's glass;

Its wheels are solid clouds, azure and gold,

Such as the genii of the thunder-storm

Pile on the floor of the illumined sea

When the sun rushes under it; they roll

And move and grow as with an inward wind;

Within it sits a winged infant, white

Its countenance, like the whiteness of bright snow,

Its plumes are as feathers of sunny frost,

Its limbs gleam white, through the wind-flowing

folds Of its white robe, woof of cetherial pearl. Its hair is white, the brightness of white light Scattered in strings; yet its two eyes are heavens Of liquid darkness, which the Deity Within seems pouring, as a storm is poured From jagged clouds, out of their arrowy lashes, Tempering the cold and radiant air around, With fire that is not brightness ; in its hand It Bways a quivering moon-beam, from whose point

A guiding power directs the chariot's prow
Over its wheeled clouds, which as they roll
Over the grass, and flowers, and waves, wake sounds,
Sweet as a singing rain of silver dew.


And from the other opening in the wood

Rushes, with loud and whirlwind harmony,

A sphere, which is as many thousand spheres,

Solid as crystal, yet through all its mass

Flow, as through empty space, music and light:

Ten thousand orbs involving and involved,

Purple and azure, white, green and golden,

Sphere within sphere ; and every space between

Peopled with unimaginable shapes,

Such as ghosts dream dwell in the lampless deep,

Yet each inter-transpicuous, and they whirl

Over each other with a thousand motions,

Upon a thousand sightless axles spinning,

And with the force of self-destroying swiftness,

Intensely, slowly, solemnly, roll on,

Kindling with mingled sounds, and many tones,

Intelligible words and music wild.

With mighty whirl the multitudinous orb

Grinds the bright brook into an azure mist

Of elemental subtlety, like light;

And the wild odour of the forest flowers,

The music of the living grass and air,

The emerald light of leaf-entangled beams

Round its intense yet self-conflicting speed,

Seem kneaded into one aerial mass

Which drowns the sense. Within the orb itself,

Pillowed upon its alabaster arms,

Like to a child o'erwearied with sweet toil,

On its own folded wings, and wavy hair,

The Spirit of the Earth is laid asleep,

And you can see its little lips arc moving,

Amid the changing light of their own smiles,

Like one who talks of what he loves in dream.


'Tis only mocking the orb's harmony.


And from a star upon its forehead, shoot,
Like swords of azure fire, or golden spears
With tyrant-quelling myrtle overtwined,
Embleming heaven and earth united now,
Vast beams like spokes of some invisible wheel
Which whirl as the orb whirls, swifter than thought,
Filling the abyss with sun-like lightnings,
And perpendicular now, and now transverse,
Pierce the dark soil, and as they pierce and pass,
Make bare the secrets of the earth's deep heart;
Infinite mine of adamant and gold,
Valueless stones, and unimagined gems,
And caverns on crystalline columns poised
With vegetable Bilver overspread;
Wells of unfathomed fire, and water springs
Whence the great sea, even as a child is fed, [tops
Whose vapours clothe earth's monarch mountain-
With kingly, ermine snow. The beams flash on
And make appear the melancholy ruins
Of cancelled cycles ; anchors, beaks of ships;
Planks turned to marble; quivers, helms, and spears,
And gorgon-headed targes, and the wheels
Of scythed chariots, and the emblazonry
Of trophies, standards, and armorial beasts,
Round which death laughed, sepulchred emblems
Of dead destruction, ruin within ruin!
The wrecks beside of many a city vast,

Whose population which the earth grew over
Was mortal, but not human ; see, they lie
Their monstrous works, and uncouth skeletons,
Their statues, homes and fanes; prodigious shapes
Huddled in grey annihilation, split,
Jammed in the hard, black deep ; and over these,
The anatomies of unknown winged things,
And fishes which were isles of living scale,
And serpents, bony chains, twisted around
The iron crags, or within heaps of dust
To which the tortuous strength of their last pangs
Had crushed the iron crags; and over these
The jagged alligator, and the might
Of earth-convulsing behemoth, which once
Were monarch beasts, and on the slimy shores,
And weed-overgrown continents of earth,
Increased and multiplied like summer worms
On an abandoned corpse, till the blue globe
Wrapt deluge round it like a cloke, and they
Yelled, gasped, and were abolished ; or some God
Whose throne was in a comet, past, and cried,
Be not! And like my words they were no more.


The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness!

The boundless, overflowing, bursting gladness,

The vaporous exultation not to be confined!
Ha 1 ha! the animation of delight
Which wraps me, like an atmosphere of light,

And bears me as a cloud is borne by its own wind.


Brother mine, calm wanderer,

Happy globe of land and air,
Some Spirit is darted like a beam from thee,

Which penetrates my frozen frame,

And passes with the warmth of flame, With love, and odour, and deep melody

Through me, through me 1


Ha! ha ! the caverns of my hollow mountains, My cloven fire-crags, sound-exulting fountains, Laugh with a vast and inextinguishable laughter. The oceans, and the deserts, and the abysses, And the deep air's unmeasured wildernesses. Answer from all their clouds and billows, echoing after.

They cry aloud as I do. Sceptred curse, Who all our green and azure universe Threatenedst to muffle round with black destruction, sending A solid cloud to rain hot thunder-stones, And splinter and knead down my children's bones, All I bring forth, to one void mass battering and blending.

Until each crag-like tower, and storied column.

Palace, and obelisk, and temple solemn, My imperial mountains crowned with cloud, and snow, and fire;

My sea-like forests, every blade and blossom

Which finds a grave or cradle in my bosom. Were stamped by thy strong hate into a lifeless mire.

How art thou sunk,withdrawn,covered,drunk up By thirsty nothing, as the brackish cup

Drained by a desert-troop, a little drop for all; And from beneath, around, within, above, Filling thy void annihilation, love [ball.

Bursts in like light on caves cloven by the thunder- |

« AnteriorContinuar »