Imágenes de páginas

No more 1 At the helm sits a woman more fair Than heaven, when, unbinding its star-braided

hair, It sinks with the sun on the earth and the sea. She clasps a bright child on her upgathered knee, It laughs at the lightning, it mocks the mixed

thunder Of the air and the sea, with desire and with wonder It is beckoning the tigers to rise and come near, It would play with those eyes where the radiance

of fear Is outshining the meteors; its bosom beats high, The heart-fire of pleasure has kindled its eye; Whilst its mother's is lustreless. "Smile not, my

child, But sleep deeply and sweetly, and so be beguiled Of the pang that awaits us, whatever that be, So dreadful since thou must divide it with me! Dream, sleep! This pale bosom, thy cradle and

bed, Will it rock thee not, infant? Tis beating with

dread! Alas! what is life, what is death, what are we, That when the ship sinks we no longer may be I What! to see thee no more, and to feel thee no

more! To be after life what we have been before? [eyes, Not to touch those sweet hands, not to look on those Those lips, and that hair, all that smiling disguise Thou yet wearest, sweet spirit, which I, day by

day, Have so long called my child, but which now fades

away Like a rainbow, and I the fallen shower 1"

Lo! the ship Is settling, it topples, the leeward ports dip; The tigers leap up when they feel the slow brine Crawling inch by inch on them; hair, ears, limbs,

and eyne, Stand rigid with horror; a loud, long, hoarse cry Burst at once from their vitals tremendously, And 'tis borne down the mountainous vale of the

wave, Rebounding, like thunder, from crag to cave, Mixed with the clash of the lashing rain, Hurried on by the might of the hurricane: The hurricane came from the west, and past on By the path of the gate of the eastern sun, Transversely dividing the stream of the storm; As an arrowy serpent, pursuing the form Of an elephant, bursts through the brakes of the

waste. Black as a cormorant the screaming blast, Between ocean and heaven, like an ocean, past, Till it came to the clouds on the verge of the

world Which, based on the sea and to heaven upcurled, Like columns and walls did surround and sustain The dome of the tempest; it rent them in twain, As a flood rends its barriers of mountainous

crag: And the dense clouds in many a ruin and rag, Like the stones of a temple ere earthquake has

past, Like the dust of its fall, on the whirlwind are cast; They are scattered like foam on the torrent; and

where The wind has burst out through the chasm, from

the air

Of clear morning, the beams of the sunrise flow in,
Unimpeded, keen, golden, and crystalline,
Banded armies of light and of air ; at one gate
They encounter, but interpenetrate.
And that breach in the tempest is widening away,
And the caverns of cloud are torn up by the day,
And the fierce winds are sinking with weary wings,
Lulled by the motion and murmurings,
And the long glassy heave of the rocking sea,
And over head glorious, but dreadful to see,
The wrecks of the tempest, like vapours of gold,
Are consuming in sunrise. The heaped waves

behold, The deep calm of blue heaven dilating above, And, like passions made still by the presence of

Love, Beneath the clear surface reflecting it Blide Tremulous with soft influence; extending its tide From the Andes to Atlas, round mountain and isle. Round sea-birds and WTecks, paved with heaven's

azure smile, The wide world of waters is vibrating.

Where Is the ship! On the verge of the wave where it lay One tiger is mingled in ghastly affray [battle

With a sea-snake. The foam and the smoke of the Stain the clear air with sunbows; the jar, and tbe

rattle Of solid bones crushed by the infinite stress Of the snake's adamantine voluminousness; And the hum of the hot blood that spouts and rains Where the gripe of the tiger has wounded the

veins, Swollen with rage, strength, and effort; the whirl

and the splash As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth smash The thin winds and soft waves into thunder ! the

screams And hissings crawl fast o'er the smooth oceanstreams, Each sound like a centipede. Near this commotion, A blue shark is hanging within the blue ocean, The fin-winged tomb of the victor. The other Is winning his way from the fate of his brother, To his own with the speed of despair. Lo! a boat Advances; twelve rowers with the impulse of

thought Urge on the keen keel, the brine foams. At the stern Three marksmen stand levelling. Hot bullets

burn In the breast of the tiger, which yet bears him on To his refuge and ruin. One fragment alone, 'Tis dwindling and sinking, 'tis now almost gone, Of the wreck of the vessel peers out of the sea. With her left hand she grasps it impetuously, With her right she sustains her fair infant. Death,

Fear, Love, Beauty, are mixed in the atmosphere, Which trembles and burns with the fervour of

dread Around her wild eyes, her bright hand, and her

head, Like a meteor of light o'er the waters! her child Is yet smiling, and playing, and murmuring: so

smiled The false deep ere the storm. Like a sister and

brother The child and the ocean still smile on each other, Whilst


I Brito fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,

From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shades for the leaves when laid

In their noon-day dreams.
From my wings are Bhaken the dews that waken

The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,

As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,

And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,

And laugh as I pass in thunder.

1 sift the snow on the mountains below,

And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white,

While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skicy bowers,

Lightning my pilot sits,
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,

It struggles and howls at fits;
Over earth and ocean with gentle motion,

This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move

In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,

Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,

The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,

Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

When the morning star shines dead. As on the jag of a mountain crag,

Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit

In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

Its ardours of rest and of love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall

From the depth of heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest,

As still as a brooding dove.

That orbed maiden, with white fire laden,

Whom mortals call the moon,
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,

By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,

Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,

The stars peep behind her and peer;
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,

Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high.

Are each paved with the moon and these.

I bind the sun's throne with the burning zone,

And the moon's with a girdle of pearl; The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,

When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,

.Over a torrent sea,
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,

The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march,

With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the powers of tho air are chained to my

Is the million-coloured bow; [chair,

The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,

While tlie moist earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of earth and water,

And the nursling of the sky:
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain, when with never a stain,

The pavilion of heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex

Build up the blue dome of air, [gleams,

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the

I arise and unbuild it again. [tomb,


The fountains mingle with the river.

And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—

Why not I with thine!

See the mountains kiss high heaven,

And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea ;-
What are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me!

January, 1820.


I Fear thy kisses, gentle maiden,
Thou needest not fear mine;

My spirit is too deeply laden
Ever to burthen thine.

I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion,
Thou needest not fear mine;

Innocent is the heart's devotion
With which I worship thine.

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Yet if we could scorn

Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.

Better than all measures

Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in "books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Teach me half the gladness . That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.


Yet freedom, yet, thy banner torn but flying.
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.


A Glorious people vibrated again

The lightning of the nations: Liberty, From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o'er Spain, Scattering contagious fire into the sky, G learned. My soul spurned the chains of its dismay, And, in the rapid plumes of song, Clothed itself sublime and strong; As a young eagle soars the morning clouds among, Hovering in verse o'er its accustomed prey; Till from its station in the heaven of fame The Spirit's whirlwind rapt it, and the ray Of the remotest sphere of living flame Which paves the void, was from behind it flung, As foam from a ship's swiftness, when there came A voice out of the deep; I will record the

The Sun and the serenest Moon sprang forth;

The burning stars of the abyss were hurl'd

Into the depths of heaven. The daedal earth,

That island in the ocean of the world, Hung in its cloud of all-sustaining air: But this divinest universe Was yet a chaos and a curse, For thou wert not: but power from worst producing worse, The spirit of the beasts was kindled there, And of the birds, and of the watery forms, And there was war among them and despair

Within them, raging without truce or terms: The bosom of their violated nurse

Groaned, for beasts warred on beasts, and worms

on worms, [storms.

And men on men; each heart was as a hell of

Man, the imperial shape, then multiplied

His generations under the pavilion
Of the sun's throne: palace and pyramid,

Temple and prison, to many a swarming million,
Were, as to mountain-wolves their ragged caves.
This human living multitude
Was savage, cunning, blind, and rude,
For thou wert-not; but o'er the populous solitude,
Like one fierce cloud over a waste of waves,

Hung tyranny ; beneath, sate deified The sister-pest, congregator of slaves; Into the shadow of her pinions wide, Anarchs and priests who feed on gold and blood, Till with the stain their inmost souls are dyed, Drove the astonished herds of men from every side.

rv. The nodding promontories, and blue isles,

And cloud-like mountains, and dividuous waves Of Greece, basked glorious in the open smiles

Of favouring heaven: from their enchanted caves Prophetic echoes flung dim melody On the unapprehensive wild. The vine, the corn, the olive mild, Grew, savage yet, to human use unreconciled; And like unfolded flowers beneath the sea, Like the man's thought dark in the infant's brain, Like aught that is which wraps what is to be, Art's deathless dreams lay veiled by many a vein Of Parian stone ; and yet a speechless child, Verse murmured, and Philosophy did strain Her lidless eyes for thee ; when o'er the /Egcan

Athens arose: a city such as vision

Builds from the purple crags and silver towers Of battlemented cloud, as in derision

Of kingliest masonry: the ocean floors Pave it; the evening sky pavilions it; Its portals are inhabited By thunder-zoned winds, each head Within its cloudy wings with sun-fire garlanded, A divine work! Athens diviner yet

Gleamed with its crest of columns, on the will Of man, as on a mount of diamond, set; For thou wert, and thine all-creative skill Peopled, with forms that mock the eternal dead In marble immortality, that hill Which was thine earliest throne and latest oracle.

Within the surface of Time's fleeting river

Its wrinkled image lies, as then it lay Immoveably unquiet, and for ever

It trembles, but it cannot pass away! The voices of thy bards and sages thunder With an earth-awakening blast Through the caverns of the past; Religion veils her eyes; Oppression shrinks aghast: A winged sound of joy, and love, and wonder, Which soars where Expectation never flew, Rending the veil of space and time asunder! One ocean feeds the clouds, and streams, and dew; One sun illumines Heaven ; one spirit vast With life and love makes chaos ever new, As Athens doth the world with thy delight renew.

Then Rome was, and from thy deep bosom fairest,

Like a wolf-cub from a Cadrafean Mienad*, She drew the milk of greatness, though thy dearest

From that Elysian food was yet unweaned; And many a deed of terrible uprightness By thy sweet love was sanctified; And in thy smile, and by thy side, Saintly Caniillus lived, and firm Atilius died, [ness, But when tears stained thy robe of vestal white

And gold profaned thy capitoliau throne, Thou didst desert, with spirit-winged lightness, The senate of the tyrants: they sunk prone Slaves of one tyrant. Palatums sighed Faint echoes of Ionian song; that tone Thou didst delay to hear, lamenting to disown.

From what Hyrcanian glen or frozen hill,
Or piny promontory of the Arctic main,
Or utmost islet inaccessible,

Didst thou lament the ruin of thy reign,
Teaching the woods and waves, and desert rocks,
And every Naiad's ice-cold urn,
To talk in echoes sad and stern,
Of that sublimest lore which man had dared unlearn!
For neither didst thou watch the wizard flocks
Of the Scald's dreams, nor haunt the Druid's
sleep. [locks,

What if the tears rained through thy shattered Were quickly dried! for thou didst groan, not When from its sea of death to kill and burn, [weep, The Galilean serpent forth did creep, And made thy world an undistinguishable heap.

A thousand years the Earth cried, Where art thou!

And then the shadow of thy coming fell On Saxon Alfred's olive-cinctured brow:

And many a warrior-peopled citadel, Like rocks, which fire lifts out of the flat deep, Arose in sacred Italy, Frowning o'er the tempestuous sea Of kings, and priests, and slaves, in tower-crowned That multitudinous anarchy did sweep, [majesty; And burst around their walls, like idle foam, Whilst from the human spirit's deepest deep, Strange melody with love and awe struck dumb Dissonant arms ; and Art which cannot die, With divine want traced on our earthly home Fit imagery to pave heaven's everlasting dome.

Thou huntress swifter tlian the Moon ! thou terror

Of the world's wolves! thou bearer of the quiver,

Whose sun-like shafts pierce tempest-winged Error,

As light may pierce the clouds when they dissever

In the calm regions of the orient day!

Luther caught thy wakening glance: Like lightning from his leaden lance Reflected, it dissolved the visions of the trance In which, as in a tomb, the nations lay;

And England's prophets hailed thee as their In songs whose music cannot pass away, [queen, Though it must flow for ever: not unseen Before the spirit-sighted countenance

Of Milton didst thou pass, from the sad scene Beyond whose night he saw, with a dejected mien.

* S» the Bacchar of Euripides.

The eager hours and unrelnctant years

As on a dawn-illumined mountain stood, Trampling to silence their loud hopes and fears,

Darkening each other with their multitude, And cried aloud, Liberty ! Indignation Answered Pity from her cave; Death grew pale within the grave, And desolation howled to the destroyer, Save! When, like heaven's sun, girt by the exhalation

Of its own glorious light, thou didst arise, Chasing thy foes from nation unto nation

Like shadows: as if day had cloven the skies At dreaming midnight o'er the western wave, Men started, staggering with a glad surprise, Under the lightnings of thine unfamiliar eyes.


Thou heaven of earth! what spells could pall thee In ominous eclipse) A thousand years, [then, Bred from the slime of deep oppression's den,

Dyed all thy liquid light with blood and tears, Till thy sweet stars could weep the stain away; How like Bacchanals of blood Round France, the ghastly vintage, stood Destruction's sceptered slaves, and Folly's mitred brood! When one, like them, but mightier far than they,'

The Anarch of thine own bewildered powers, Rose : armies mingled in obscure array,

Like clouds with clouds, darkening the sacred Of serene heaven. He,by the past pursued, [bowers Rests with those dead but unforgotten hours, Whose ghosts scare victor kings in their ancestral towers.


England yet sleeps: was she not called of old!

Spain calls her now, as with its thrilling thunder Vesuvius wakens yEtna, and the cold

Snow-crags by its reply are cloven in sunder: O'er the lit waves every /Eolian isle From Pithecusa to Pclorus Howls, and leaps, and glares in chorus: [m. They cry, Be dim, ye lamps of heaven suspended o'er I lerchains are threads of gold, she need but smile And they dissolve ; but Spain's were links of Till bit to dust, by virtue's keenest file, [steel, Twins of a single destiny ! appeal To the eternal years enthroned before us, In the dim West ; impress us from a seal. All ye have thought and done! Time cannot dare conceal.


Tomb of Arminius ! render up thy dead

Till, like a standard from a watch-tower's staff, His soul may stream over the tyrant's head 1

Thy victory shall be his epitaph.
Wild Bacchanal of truth's mysterious mine.
King-deluded Germany,
His dead spirit lives in thee.
Why do we fear or hope! thou art already free!
And thou, lost Paradise of this divine

And glorious world! thou flowery wilderness! Thou island of eternity I thou shrine

Where desolation, clothed with loveliness. Worships the thing thou weri ! O Italy, Gather thy blood into thy heart; rvprcM The beasts who make their dens thy sacred palaces.

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