XLII.

Ere night the pyre was piled, the net of iron Was spread above, the fearful couch below; It overtopped the towers that did environ That spacious square; for Fear is never slow To build the thrones of Hate, her mate and foe, So, she scourged forth the maniac multitude To rear this pyramid-tottering and slow, Plague-stricken, foodless, like lean herds pursued By gad-flies, they have piled the heath, and gums, and wood.

XLIII.

Night came, a starless and a moonless gloom. Until the dawn, those hosts of many a nation Stood round that pile, as near one lover's tomb Two gentle sisters mourn their desolation; And in the silence of that expectation, Was heard on high the reptiles' hiss and crawl— It was so deep, save when the devastation Of the swift pest with fearful interval, Marking its path with shrieks, among the crowd would fall.

XLIV.

Morn came.-Among those sleepless multitudes, Madness, and Fear, and Plague, and Famine, still Heaped corpse on corpse, as in autumnal woods The frosts of many a wind with dead leaves fill Earth's cold and sullen brooks. In silence still The pale survivors stood; ere noon, the fear Of hell became a panic, which did kill Like hunger or disease, with whispers drear, As "Hush! hark! Come they yet? Just Heaven!

thine hour is near!"

XLV.

And Priests rushed through their ranks, some counterfeiting

The rage they did inspire, some mad indeed With their own lies. They said their god was waiting To see his enemies writhe, and burn, and bleed,And that, till then, the snakes of Hell had need Of human souls.-Three hundred furnaces [speed, Soon blazed through the wide City, where, with Men brought their infidel kindred to appease God's wrath, and while they burned, knelt round on quivering knees.

XLVI.

The noontide sun was darkened with that smoke, The winds of eve dispersed those ashes grey. The madness which these rites had lulled, awoke Again at sunset.-Who shall dare to say The deeds which night and fear brought forth, or In balance just the good and evil there? [weigh He might man's deep and searchless heart display, And cast a light on those dim labyrinths, where Hope, near imagined chasms, is struggling with despair.

XLVII.

"Tis said, a mother dragged three children then,
To those fierce flames which roast the eyes in the
And laughed and died; and that unholy men, [head,
Feasting like fiends upon the infidel dead,
Looked from their meal, and saw an Angel tread
The visible floor of Heaven, and it was she!
And, on that night, one without doubt or dread
Came to the fire, and said, "Stop, I am he!
Kill me!"-They burned them both with hellish
mockery.

XII.

Of rushing feet? laughter? the shout, the scream, Of triumph not to be contained? See! hark! They come, they come ! give way! Alas, ye deem Falsely-'tis but a crowd of maniacs stark

Driven, like a troop of spectres, through the dark From the choked well, whence a bright death-fire sprung,

A lurid earth-star, which dropped many a spark From its blue train, and spreading widely, clung To their wild hair, like mist the topmost pines among.

XIII.

And many, from the crowd collected there, Joined that strange dance in fearful sympathies; There was the silence of a long despair, When the last echo of those terrible cries Came from a distant street, like agonies Stifled afar. Before the Tyrant's throne All night his aged Senate sate, their eyes In stony expectation fixed; when one Sudden before them stood, a Stranger and alone.

XIV.

Dark Priests and haughty Warriors gazed on him
With baffled wonder, for a hermit's vest
Concealed his face; but when he spake, his tone,
Ere yet the matter did their thoughts arrest,
Earnest, benignant, calm, as from a breast
Void of all hate or terror, made them start;
For as with gentle accents he addressed
His speech to them, on each unwilling heart
Unusual awe did fall—a spirit-quelling dart.

XV.

"Ye Princes of the Earth, ye sit aghast
Amid the ruin which yourselves have made;
Yes, desolation heard your trumpet's blast,
And sprang from sleep!-dark Terror has obeyed
Your bidding-Oh that I, whom ye have made
Your foe, could set my dearest enemy free
From pain and fear! but evil casts a shade
Which cannot pass so soon, and Hate must be
The nurse and parent still of an ill progeny.

XVI.

"Ye turn to Heaven for aid in your distress;
Alas, that ye, the mighty and the wise,
Who, if he dared, might not aspire to less
Than ye conceive of power, should fear the lies
Which thou, and thou, didst frame for mysteries
To blind your slaves:-consider your own thought,
An empty and a cruel sacrifice

Ye now prepare, for a vain idol wrought Out of the fears and hate which vain desires have brought.

XVII.

"Ye seek for happiness-alas the day!
Ye find it not in luxury nor in gold,
Nor in the fame, nor in the envied sway
For which, O willing slaves to Custom old,
Severe task-mistress! ye your hearts have sold.
Ye seek for peace, and when ye die, to dream
No evil dreams; all mortal things are cold
And senseless then. If aught survive, I deem
It must be love and joy, for they immortal seem.

XXIV.

66 Yes, in the desert then is built a home For Freedom. Genius is made strong to rear The monuments of man beneath the dome Of a new heaven; myriads assemble there, Whom the proud lords of man, in rage or fear, Drive from their wasted homes. The boon I pray Is this, that Cythna shall be convoyed there,— Nay, start not at the name-America! And then to you this night Laon will I betray.

XXV.

"With me do what ye will. I am your foe!" The light of such a joy as makes the stare Of hungry snakes like living emeralds glow, Shone in a hundred human eyes.-"Where, where Is Laon? haste! fly! drag him swiftly here! We grant thy boon."-" I put no trust in ye, Swear by the Power ye dread."—"We swear, we TheStranger threw his vest back suddenly,[swear!" And smiled in gentle pride, and said, "Lo! I am he!"

CANTO XII.

1.

THE transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness Spread through the multitudinous streets,fast flying Upon the winds of fear; from his dull madness The starveling waked, and died in joy; the dying, Among the corpses in stark agony lying, Just heard the happy tidings, and in hope [ing Closed their faint eyes, from house to house replyWith loud acclaim, the living shook Heaven's cope, And filled the startled Earth with echoes: morn

did ope

II.

Its pale eyes then; and lo! the long array
Of guards in golden arms, and priests beside,
Singing their bloody hymns, whose garbs betray
The blackness of the faith it seems to hide ;
And see, the Tyrant's gem-wrought chariot glide
Among the gloomy cowls and glittering spears-
A shape of light is sitting by his side,

A child most beautiful. I' the midst appears Laon-exempt alone from mortal hopes and fears.

III.

His head and feet are bare, his hands are bound Behind with heavy chains, yet none do wreak Their scoffs on him, though myriads throng around; There are no sneers upon his lip which speak That scorn or hate has made him bold; his cheek Resolve has not turned pale,-his eyes are mild And calm, and like the morn about to break, Smile on mankind-his heart seems reconciled To all things and itself, like a reposing child.

IV.

Tumult was in the soul of all beside, Ill joy, or doubt, or fear; but those who saw Their tranquil victim pass, felt wonder glide Into their brain, and became calm with awe.→ See, the slow pageant near the pile doth draw. A thousand torches in the spacious square, Borne by the ready slaves of ruthless law, Await the signal round: the morning fair Is changed to a dim night by that unnatural glare.

V.

And see! beneath a sun-bright canopy,
Upon a platform level with the pile,
The anxious Tyrant sit, enthroned on high,
Girt by the chieftains of the host. All smile
In expectation, but one child: the while
I, Laon, led by mutes, ascend my bier

Of fire, and look around. Each distant isle
Is dark in the bright dawn; towers far and near
Pierce like reposing flames the tremulous atmo-
sphere.

VI.

There was such silence through the host, as when An earthquake, trampling on some populous

town,

Has crushed ten thousand with one tread, and men Expect the second; all were mute but one, That fairest child, who, bold with love, alone Stood up before the king, without avail, Pleading for Laon's life-her stifled groan Was heard-she trembled like an aspen pale Among the gloomy pines of a Norwegian vale.

VII.

What were his thoughts linked in the morning

sun,

Among those reptiles, stingless with delay, Even like a tyrant's wrath-The signal-gun Roared-hark, again! In that dread pause he lay As in a quiet dream-the slaves obeyA thousand torches drop,-and hark, the last Bursts on that awful silence. Far away Millions, with hearts that beat both loud and fast, Watch for the springing flame expectant and aghast.

VIII.

They fly-the torches fall-a cry of fear Has startled the triumphant !-they recede ! For ere the cannon's roar has died, they hear The tramp of hoofs like earthquake, and a steed Dark and gigantic, with the tempest's speed, Bursts through their ranks: a woman sits thereon, Fairer it seems than aught that earth can breed, Calm, radiant, like the phantom of the dawn, A spirit from the caves of day-light wandering gone.

IX.

All thought it was God's Angel come to sweep The lingering guilty to their fiery grave; The tyrant from his throne in dread did leap,Her innocence his child from fear did save. Scared by the faith they feigned, each priestly slave Knelt for his mercy whom they served with blood, And, like the refluence of a mighty wave Sucked into the loud sea, the multitude With crushing panic, fled in terror's altered mood.

X.

They pause, they blush, they gaze; a gathering shout Bursts like one sound from the ten thousand streams Of a tempestuous sea :-that sudden rout One checked, who never in his mildest dreams Felt awe from grace or loveliness, the seams Of his rent heart so hard and cold a creed Had seared with blistering ice-but he misdeems That he is wise, whose wounds do only bleed Inly for self; thus thought the Iberian Priest indeed;