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Catch the volcano-fire and earthquake spasm,
dead. The last news from the camp is, that a thousand Have sickened, and—
Enter a Fourth Meitengcr. HAIIMOD And thou, pale ghost, dim shadow Of some untimely rumour, speak!
Enter an Attendant.
Your Sublime Highness, The Jew, who
Could not come more seasonably: Bid him attend. I'll hear no more! too long We gaze on danger through the mist of fear, And multiply upon our shattered hopes The images of ruin. Come what will!
To-morrow and to-morrow arc as lamps
Set in our path to light us to the edge,
Through rough and smooth; nor can we suffer
aught Which he inflicts not in whose hand we are.
Where the rocks that gird th' jEgean Echo to the battle ptean Of the free— I would flee A tempestuous herald of victory! My golden rain For the Grecian slain Should mingle in tears with the bloody main; And my solemn thunder-knell Should ring to the world the passing-bell Of tyranny!
Ah king! wilt thou chain The rack and the rain 1 Wilt thou fetter the lightning and hurricane!
The storms are free,
0 Slavery I thou frost of the world's prime,
Killing its flowers and leaving its thorns bare!
But Greece and her foundations are
Built below the tide of war,
Baaed on the crystalline sea
Of thought and its eternity; Her citizens, imperial spirits,
Rule the present from the past, On all this world of men inherits
Their seal is set.
Hear ye the blast,
Semi en ours i.
The world's eyeless charioteer,
Destiny, is hurrying by! What faith is crushed, what empire bleeds Beneath her earthquake-footed steeds! What eagle-winged victory Bits At her right hand 1 what shadow flits Before! what splendour rolls behind?
Ruin and Renovation cry, Who but we 1
I hear! I hear!
I hear! I hear!
MAHMUD. Thou art an adept in the difficult lore Of Greek and Frank philosophy; thou numberest The flowers, and thou measurest the stars; Thou severest element from element; Thy spirit is present in the past, and sees The birth of this old world through all its cycles Of desolation and of loveliness; And when man was not, and how man became The monarch and the slave of this low sphere, And all its narrow circles—it is much. I honour thee, and would be what thou art Were I not what I am ; but the unborn hour, Cradled in fear and hope, conflicting storms, Who shall unveil? Nor thou, nor I, nor any Mighty or wise. I apprehend not What thou hast taught me, but I now perceive That thou art no interpreter of dreams; Thou dost not own that art, device, or God, Can make the future present—let it come! Moreover thou disdainest us and ours! Thou art as God, whom thou contemplatesL
Disdain thee t—not the worm beneath my feet!
flowers, With all the silent or tempestuous workings By which they have been, arc, or cease to be, Is but a vision ;—all that it inherits Are motes of a sick eye, bubbles, and dreams; Thought is its cradle and its grave, nor less The future and the past are idle shadows Of thought's eternal flight—they have no being; Nought is but that it feels itself to be.
Whatmeanestthout thy wordsstrcamlikeaterapcrt Of dazzling mist within my brain—they shake The earth on which I stand, and hang like night On Heaven above me. What can they avail! They cast on all things, surest, brightest, best, Doubt, insecurity, astonishment.
AHASUERUS. Mistake me not t All is contained in each. Dodona's forest to an acorn's cup Is that which has been or will be, to that Which is—the absent to the present. Thought Alone, and its quick elements, Will, Passion, Reason, Imagination, cannot die; They are what that which they regard appear*. The stuff whence mutability can weavo All that it hath dominion o'er,—worlds, Kotow. Empires, and superstitions. What has thought
The sound As of the assault of an imperial city, The hiss of inextinguishable fire, The roar of giant cannon ;—the earthquaking Fall of vast bastions and precipitous towers, The shock of crags shot from strange engin'ry, The clash of wheels, and clang of armed hoofs, And crash of brazen mail, as of the wreck Of adamantine mountains—the mad blast Of trumpets, and the neigh of raging steeds, And shrieks of women whose thrill jars the blood, And one sweet laugh, most horrible to hear, As of a joyous infant waked, and playing With its dead mother's breast; and now more loud The mingled battle-cry—ha ! hear I not ■Zrroirvrbn). Allah-illah-Allah!
The sulphureous mist is raised thou seest—
A chasm, As of two mountains, in the wall of Stamboul; And in that ghastly breach the Islamites, Like giants on the ruins of a world, Stand in the light of sunrise. In the dust Glimmers a kingless diadem, and one Of regal port has cast himself beneath The stream of war. Another, proudly clad In golden arms, spurs a Tartarian barb Into the gap, and with his iron mace Directs the torrent of that tide of men, And seems—he is—Mahomet!
What thou see'st Is but the ghost of thy forgotten dream; A dream itself, yet less, perhaps, than that Thoa call'st reality. Thou mayst behold How cities, on which empire sleeps enthroned, Bow their towered crests to mutability. Poised by the flood, e'en on the height thou holdest,
Thou mayst now learn how the full tide of power
[Exit AHASUERUS. MAHMUD.
Thence whither thou must go! The grave is fitter
Spirit, woe to all I Woe to the wronged and the avenger I Woe To the destroyer, woe to the destroyed! Woe to the dupe, and woe to the deceiver! Woe to the oppressed, and woe to the oppressor! Woe both to those that suffer and inflict; Those who are born, and those who die ! But say, Imperial shadow of the thing I am, When, how, by whom, Destruction must accomplish Her consummation 1
Ask the cold pale Hour,
The weight which Crime, whose wings are plumed
with years, Leaves in his flight from ravaged heart to heart Over the heads of men, under which burthen They bow themselves unto the grave: fond wretch! He leans upon his crutch, and talks of years To come, and how in hours of youth renewed He will renew lost joys, and
Victory! victory! [The Phantom vanishet.
What sound of the importunate earth has broken My mighty trance t
Weak lightning before darkness! poor faint smile
[Exit Mah.mi 11.
Shout in the jubilee of death! The Greeks
Are as a brood of lions in the net,
Round which the kingly hunters of the earth
Stand smiling. Anarchs, ye whose daily food
Are curses, groans, and gold, the fruit of death,
From Thule to the girdle of the world,
Come, feast! the board groans with the flesh of men—
The cup is foaming with a nation's blood,
Famine and Thirst await: eat, drink, and die!
Victorious Wrong, with vulture scream, Salutes the risen sun, pursues the flying day!
I saw her ghastly as a tyrant's dream,
Who shall impede her flight I
Victory ! victory! Russia's famished eagles
Thou voice which art
Thou echo of the hollow heart
When desolation flashes o'er a world destroyed. Oh bear me to those isles of jagged cloud
Which float like mountains on the earthquakes, 'mid The momentary oceans of the lightning;
Or to some toppling promontory proud
Of solid tempest, whose black pyramid, Riven, overhangs the founts intensely brightening
Of those dawn-tinted deluges of fire
Before their waves expire. When heaven and earth are light, and only light In the thunder-night!
Victory ! victory ! Austria, Russia, England,
speak. Ho, there! bring torches, sharpen those re«
stakes! Thesechainsarelight,fitterforslavesand poisoners Than Greeks. Kill! plunder I burn! let none
Alas for Liberty! If numbers, wealth, or unfulfllling years, Or fate, can quell the free; Alas for Virtue ! when Torments, or contumely, or the sneers Of erring judging men Can break the heart where it abides. Alas! if Love, whose smile makes this obscure world splendid,
Can change, with its false times and tides, Like hope and terror— Alas for Love 1 And Truth, who wanderest lone and unbefriended, If thou canst veil thy lie-consuming mirror Before the dazzled eyes of Error. Alas for thee! Image of the Above.
Repulse, with plumes from conquest torn,
Led the ten thousand from the limits of the morn
Through many an hostile Anarchy! At length they wept aloud and cried, " The sea! the sea!" Through exile, persecution, and despair,
Rome was, and young Atlantis shall become The wonder, or the terror, or the tomb Of all whose step wakes power lulled in her savage lair: But Greece was as a hermit child,
Whose fairest thoughts and limbs were built
In a diviner clime,
Let the free possess the paradise they claim; Be the fortune of our fierce oppressors weighed
With our ruin, our resistance, and our name!
Our dead shall be the seed of their decay,
Our adversity a dream to pass away—
Victory! Victory! The bought Briton sends
The keys of ocean to the Islamite.
Now shall the blazon of the cross be veiled,
And British skill directing Othman might,
Thunder-strike rebel victory. O keep holy
This jubilee of unrevenged blood!
Kill! crush! despoil! Let not a Greek escape!
On the noon of time:
From the hungry clime.
To a sunnier strand,
To the Evening land!
The young moon has fed
But the night is not born;
Guide us far, far away, To climes where now, veiled by the ardour of day, Thou art hidden From waves on which weary noon Faints in her summer swoon, Between kingless continents, sinless as Eden, Around mountains and islands inviolably Prankt on the sapphire sea.
Through the sunset of hope,
Beneath Heaven's cope.
Tlie music and fragrance their solitudes breathe, Burst like morning on dreams, or like Heaven on death,
Through the walls of our prison;
And Greece, which was dead, is arisen!
The world's great age begins anew,
The golden years return, V
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 waveo serener far;
Against the morning-star. I
Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep
A loftier Argo cleaves the main,
Fraught with a later prize;
And loves, and weeps, and dies.
0 write no more the tale of Troy,
Nor mix with Laian rage the joy
Although a subtler sphinx renew
Riddles of death Thebes never knew.
Another Athens shall arise,
And to remoter time
The splendour of its prime;
Saturn and Love their long repose
Than all who fell, than One who rose,
Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,
But votive tears, and symbol flowers.
0 cease! must hate and death return I , Cease! must men kill and die? \
Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn
Of bitter prophecy.