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Oimo A lov With
Broken at last by threats more terrible.
Then among streams and flowers
The nymphs and shepherds sat
Kisses that would not go.
The maiden, budding o'er,
Which now a veil must hide,
And oftentimes, in river or in lake,
'Twas thou, thou, Honour, first And trouble that fair bosom, built of bliss.
That didst deny our thirst
Thou bad’st kind eyes withdraw
Into constrained awe,
And keep the secret for their tears to wet:
The tresses from the air,
And mad’st the sports and plays Or the mild serpent had no tooth that slew;
Turn all to sullen ways, Not that a cloudless blue
And put’st on speech a rein, in steps a care. For ever was in sight,
Thy work it is,-thou shade that wilt not move.Or that the heaven which burns,
That what was once the gift, is now the theft of
Our sorrows and our pains,
These are thy noble gains! But solely that that vain
(war: But oh, thou Love's and Nature's masterer, And breath-invented pain,
Thou conq'ror of the crowned, That idol of mistakes, that worshipped cheat, What dost thou on this ground, That Honour,--since so called
Too small a circle for thy mighty sphere? By vulgar minds appalled,
Go and make slumber dear Played not the tyrant with our nature yet.
To the renowned and high: It had not come to fret
We bere, a lowly race, The sweet and happy fold
Can live without thy grace, Of gentle human-kind;
After the use of mild antiquity. Nor did its hard law bind
let us love; since years Souls nursed in freedom; but that law of gold, No trace allow, and life soon disappears. That glad and golden law, all free, all fitted, Go; let us love: the daylight dies, is born; Which Nature's own hand wrote,–What pleases, But unto us the light is permitted.
Dies once for all; and sleep brings on eternal night.
FROM ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRIT OF
SOLITUDE. There was a poet, whose untimely tomb No human hands with pious reverence reared, But the charmed eddies of autumnal winds Built o'er his mouldering bones a pyramid Of mouldering leaves in the waste wilderness : A lovely youth,—no mourning maiden decked With weeping flowers, or white cypress wreath, The lone couch of his everlasting sleep:Gentle, and brave, and generous,-no lorn bard Breathed o'er his dark fate one melodious sigh: He lived, he died, he sang, in solitude. Strangers have wept to hear his passionate notes, And virgins, as unknown he past, have pined And wasted for fond love of his wild eyes. The fire of those orbs has ceased to burn, And silence, too enamoured of that voice, Locks its mute music in her rugged cell.
By solemn vision, and bright silver dream, His infancy was nurtured. Every sight And sound from the vast earth and ambient air, Sent to his heart its choicest impulses. The fountains of divine philosophy Fled not his thirsting lips, and all of great, Or good, or lovely, which the sacred past In truth, or fable consecrates, he felt And knew. When early youth had past, he left His cold fireside and alienated home To seek strange truths in undiscovered lands. Many a wide waste and tangled wilderness Has lured his fearful steps; and he has bought With his sweet voice and eyes, from savage men, His rest and food. Nature's most secret steps He like her shadow has pursued, where'er The red volcano over-canopies Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice With burning smoke, or where bitumen lakes On black bare pointed islets ever beat With sluggish surge, or where the secret caves, Rugged and dark, winding among the springs Of fire and poison, inaccessible To avarice or pride, their starry domes Of diamond and of gold expand above Numberless and immeasurable halls, Frequent with crystal column, and clear shrines Of pearl, and thrones radiant with chrysolite. Nor had that scene of ampler majesty Than gems or gold, the varying of heaven And the green earth lost in his heart its claims To love and wonder; he would linger long In lonesome vales, making the wild his home, Until the doves and squirrels would partake From his innocuous hand his bloodless food,
His wandering step, Obedient to high thoughts, has visited The awful ruins of the days of old: Athens, and Tyre, and Balbec, and the Where stood Jerusalem, the fallen towers Of Babylon, the eternal pyramids, Memphis and Thebes, and whatsoe'er of strange Sculptured on alabaster obelisk, Or jasper tomb, or mutilated sphynx, Dark Æthiopia in her desert hills Conceals. Among the ruined temples there, Stupendous columns, and wild images Of more than man, where marble dæmons watch The Zodiac's brazen mystery, and dead men Hang their mute thoughts on the mute walls around, He lingered, poring in memorials Of the world's youth; through the long burning day Gazed in those speechless shapes, nor, when the moon Filled the mysterious halls with floating shades Suspended he that task, but ever gazed And gazed, till meanivg on his vacant mind Flashed like strong inspiration, and he saw The thrilling secrets of the birth of time.
THE DEDICATION OF THE REVOLT
So now my summer task is ended, Mary,
Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear friend, Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the when first
power, The clouds which wrap this world from youth did Which says:- let scorn be not repaid with scorn. I do remember well the hour which burst
And from thy side two gentle babes are born My spirit's sleep: a fresh Maydawn it was,
To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,
Most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn;
And these delights, and thou, have been to me
Is it that now my inexperienced fingers
But strike the prelude to a loftier strain?
And charm the minds of men to Truth's own sway,
Reply in hope--but I am worn away,
(prey. Such power; for I grow weary to behold
And death and love are yet contending for their
And what art thou; I know, but dare not speak:
Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,
And in the light thine ample forehead wears, And from that hour did I with earnest thought And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears, Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore;
And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught
Is whispered to subdue my fondest fears: I cared to learn, but from that secret store
And through thine eyes, even thy soul I see
A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.
Of glorious parents, thou aspiring child.
I wonder not for one then left this earth
Whose life was like a setting planet mild, Alas, that love should be a blight and snare
Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled To those who seek all sympathies in one!
Of its departing glory; still her fame Such once I sought in vain; then black despair,
Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim
The shelter from thy sire, of an immortal name.
And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it,
As some lone man, who in a desart hears Thou friend, whose presence on my wintery heart The music of his home :-unwonted fears Fell like bright spring upon some herbless plain; Fell on the pale oppressors of our race, How beautiful and calm and free thou wert
And faith and custom and low-thoughted cares, In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain
Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space (place
. Of custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,
Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling And walked as free as light the clouds among,
Truth's deathless voice pauses among
mankind Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain
If there must be no response to my cry From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung
If men must rise and stamp with fury blind To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long.
On his pure name who loves them,-thou and I, No more alone through the world's wilderness, Sweet friend! can look from our tranquillity Although I trod the paths of high intent,
Like lamps into the world's tempestuous night,-I journeyed now: no more companionless,
Two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing by, Where solitude is like despair, I went.-
Which wrap them from the foundering seaman's
FROM THE REVOLT OF ISLAM.
It was a temple, such as mortal hand Now has descended a serener hour,
Has never built, nor ecstacy, nor dream And with inconstant fortune friends return;
Reared in the cities of enchanted land:
all "Twas likest heaven, ere yet day's purple stream Their own deep fire--soon as the woman came
Ebbs o'er the western forest, while the gleam Into that hall, she shrieked the spirit's name er of the unrisen moon among the clouds
And fell; and vanished slowly from the sight. *** Is gathering,—when with many a golden beam Darkness arose from her dissolving frame, E" The thronging constellations rush in crowds, Which gathering filled that dome of woven light, brackets Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal floods. Blotting its sphered stars with supernatural night.
Like what may be conceived of this vast dome, Then first, two glittering lights were seen to glide
When from the depths which thought can seldom In circles on the amethystine floor,
Like meteors on a river's grassy shore,
And more, then rose commingling into one, * That shape to mortal sense,—such glooms immerse One clear and mighty planet, hanging o'er esset. That incommunicable sight, and rest
A cloud of deepest shadow, which was thrown e kisline Upon the labouring brain, and overburthened breast. Athwart the glowing steps, and the crystalline
throne. Winding among the lawny islands fair,
Whose blossomy forests starred the shadowy deep, The cloud which rested on that'cone of flame * The wingless boat paused where an ivory stair Was cloven; beneath the planet sate a form, Its fretwork in the crystal sea did sleep,
Fairer than tongue can speak, or thought may frame, Encircling that vast fane's aerial heap:
The radiance of whose limbs rose-like and warm that We disembarked, and through a portal wide Flowed forth, and did with softest light inform Tech We past,—whose roof, of moonstone carved, did keep The shadowy dome, the sculptures and the state e spets. A glimmering o'er the forms on every side, [eyed. Of those assembled shapes—with clinging charm, euble Sculptures like life and thought; immoveable,deep Sinking upon their hearts and mine.--He sate
Majestic, yet most mild-calm, yet compassionate. We came to a vast hall, whose glorious roof(sheen Was diamond, which had drunk the lightning's In darkness, and now poured it through the woof
FROM ROSALIND AND HELEN. a baten Of spell-en woven clouds hung there to screen
Its blinding splendour,-through such veil was seen “ Lo, where red morning through the woods
That work of subtlest power divine and rare; Is burning o'er the dew;" said Rosalind. [flood in Orb above orb, with starry shapes between,
And with these words they rose, and towards the And horned moons, and meteors strange and fair,
Of the blue lake, beneath the leaves now wind On night-black columns poised-one hollow he With equal steps and fingers intertwined; misphere!
Thence to a lonely dwelling, where the shore
Is shadowed with steep rocks, and cypresses Ten thousand columns in that quivering light Cleave with their dark green cones the silent skies, Distinct,-between whose shafts wound far away And with their shadows the clear depths below, The long and labyrinthine aisles more bright And where a little terrace from its bowers, With their own radiance than the heaven of day;
Of blooming myrtle and faint lemon-flowers, And on the jasper walls around there lay
Scatters its sense-dissolving fragrance o'er Paintings, the poesy of mightiest thought,
The liquid marble of the windless lake; Which did the spirit's history display;
And where the aged forest's limbs look hoar, A tale of passionate change, divinely taught, Under the leaves which their green garments make, Which in their winged dance unconscious Genii
They come: ’lis Helen's home, and clean and white, wrought.
Like one which tyrants spare on our own land
In some such solitude; its casements bright Beneath there sate on many a sapphire throne
Shone through their vine-leaves in the morning sun, The great, who had departed from mankind;
And even within 'twas scarce like Italy. [ned, A mighty senate ;-some whose white hair shone Like mountain snow, mild, beautiful, and blind.
And when she saw how all things there were plan
As in an English home, dim memory Some, female forms, whose gestures beamed with
Disturbed poor Rosalind: she stood as one
Whose mind is where his body cannot be, And ardent youths, and children bright and fair;
Till Helen led her where her child yet slept, And some had lyres, whose strings were intertwined
And said, “ Observe, that brow was Lionel's, With pale and clinging flames, which ever there Walked, faint yet thrilling sounds, that pierced the
Those lips were his, and so he ever kept crystal air.
One arm in sleep, pillowing his head with it.
You cannot see his eyes, they are two wells One seal was vacant in the midst, a throne
Of liquid love: let us not wake him yet.” Reared on a pyramid, like sculptured flame
But Rosalind could bear no more, and wept Distinct, with circling steps, which rested on A shower of burning tears, which fell upon
His face, and so his opening lashes shone
Wilt thou be, when the sea-mew
Lash With tears unlike his own, as he did leap
Flies, as once before it flew, In sudden wonder from his innocent sleep.
O'er thine isles depopulate,
And all is in its antient state, So Rosalind and Helen lived together
Save where many a palace gate Thenceforth, changed in all else, yet friends again,
With green sea-flowers overgrown Such as they were, when o'er the mountain heather
Aug Like a rock of ocean's own,
Thor They wandered in their youth, through sun and rain.
Topples o'er the abandoned sea
Oser And after many years, for human things
As the tides change sullenly.
Ast Change even like the ocean and the wind,
The fisher on his watery way,
Rou Her daughter was restored to Rosalind, And in their circle thence some visitings
Wandering at the close of day,
Will spread his sail and seize his oar Of joy 'mid their new calm would intervene:
Till he pass the gloomy shore,
Like A lovely child she was, of looks serene,
Lest thy dead should, from their sleep Ima And motions which o'er things indifferent shed
Bursting o'er the starlight deep, The grace and gentleness from whence they came.
Lead a rapid masque of death
Yet And Helen's boy grew with her, and they fed
O'er the waters of his path.
Αα From the same flowers of thought, until each mind
See Like springs which mingle in one flood became,
Those who alone thy towers behold
Mig And in their union soon their parents saw
Quivering through aerial gold,
Th The shadow of the peace denied to them.
As I now behold them here, And Rosalind, for when the living stem
Would imagine not they were
Lo Is cankered in its heart, the tree must fall,
Sepulchres, where human forms,
LIL Died ere her time; and with deep grief and awe
Like pollution-nourished worms,
Til The pale survivors followed her remains
To the corpse of greatness cling, Beyond the region of dissolving rains,
Murdered, and now mouldering:
Fru Up the cold mountain she was wont to call
But if Freedom should awake
Ac Her tomb; and on Chiavenna's precipice
In her omnipotence, and shake
O They raised a pyramid of lasting ice,
From the Celtic Anarch's hold
LE Whose polished sides, ere day had yet begun,
All the keys of dungeons cold,
B Caught the first glow of the unrisen sun,
Where a hundred cities lie
M The last, when it had sunk; and through the night
Chained like thee, ingloriously, The charioteers of Arctos wheeled round
Thou and all thy sister band Its glittering point, as seen from Helen's home,
Might adorn this sunny land, Whose sad inhabitants each year would come,
Twiping memories of old time With willing steps climbing that rugged height,
With new virtues more sublime;
If not, perish thou and they,
By her sun consumed away,
Earth can spare ye: while like flowers, Of one friend left, adorned that frozen tomb.
In the waste of years and hours, Helen, whose spirit was of softer mould,
From your dust new nations spring Whose sufferings too were less, death slowlier led With more kindly blossoming. Into the peace of his dominion cold:
Perish ! let there only be She died among her kindred, being old.
Floating o'er thy hearthless sea, And know, that if love die not in the dead
As the garment of thy sky As in the living, none of mortal kind
Clothes the world immortally,
One remembrance, more sublime
Which scarce hides thy visage wan;
That a tempest-cleaving swan
Of the songs of Albion,
Driven from his ancestral streams Ocean's child, and then his queen;
By the might of evil dreams, Now is come a darker day,
Found a nest in thee; and ocean And thou soon must be his prey,
Welcomed him with such emotion If the power that raised thee here
That its joy grew his, and sprung Hallow so thy watery bier.
From his lips like music flung A less drear ruin then than now,
O'er a mighty thunder-fit,
Chastening terror: what though yet
Poesy's unfailing river,