XXX. "Our many thoughts and deeds, our life and love, Our happiness, and all that we have been, Immortally must live, and burn and move, When we shall be no more ;--the world has seen A type of peace; and as some most serene And lovely spot to a poor maniac's eye, After long years, some sweet and moving scene Of youthful hope returning suddenly, Quells his long madness-thus man shall remember thee. XXXI. "And Calumny meanwhile shall feed on us, As worms devour the dead, and near the throne And at the altar, most accepted thus Shall sneers and curses be;-what we have done None shall dare vouch, though it be truly known; That record shall remain, when they must pass Who built their pride in its oblivion ; And fame, in human hope which sculptured was, Survive the perished scrolls of unenduring brass. XXXII. "The while we two, belovèd, must depart, And Sense and Reason, those enchanters fair, Whose wand of power is hope, would bid the heart That gazed beyond the wormy grave despair: These eyes, these lips, this blood, seems darkly there To fade in hideous ruin; no calm sleep Peopling with golden dreams the stagnant air, Seems our obscure and rotting eyes to steep In joy;-but senseless death- -a ruin dark and deep! XXXIII. "These are blind fancies-reason cannot know What sense can neither feel nor thought conceive; There is delusion in the world-and woe, And fear, and pain—we know not whence we live, Or why, or how, or what mute Power may give Their being to each plant, and star, and beast, Or even these thoughts:-Come near me! I do weave A chain I cannot break-I am possessed With thoughts too swift and strong for one lone human breast. XXXIV. "Yes, yes-thy kiss is sweet, thy lips are warm O! willingly, beloved, would these eyes, Might they no more drink being from thy form, Even as to sleep whence we again arise, Close their faint orbs in death: I fear nor prize Aught that can now betide, unshared by thee Yes, Love when Wisdom fails makes Cythna wise: Darkness and death, if death be true, must be Dearer than life and hope, if unenjoyed with thee. 66 XXXV. Alas, our thoughts flow on with stream, whose waters Return not to their fountain-Earth and Heaven, The Ocean and the Sun, the clouds their daughters, Winter, and Spring, and Morn, and Noon, and Even, All that we are or know, is darkly driven Towards one gulph-Lo! what a change is come Since I first spake—but time shall be forgiven, Though it change all but thee!"-She ceased, night's gloom Meanwhile had fallen on earth from the sky's sunless dome. XXXVI. Though she had ceased, her countenance uplifted To Heaven still spake, with solemn glory bright; Her dark deep eyes, her lips, whose motions gifted The air they breathed with love, her locks undight; "Fair star of life and love," I cried, "my soul's delight, Why lookest thou on the crystalline skies? O, that my spirit were yon Heaven of night, Which gazes on thee with its thousand eyes!" She turned to me and smiled-that smile was Paradise! CANTO TENTH. I. Was there a human spirit in the steed, gone, He broke our linkèd rest? or do indeed To see her sons contend? and makes she bare Her breast, that all in peace its drainless stores may share? II. I have heard friendly sounds from many a tongue, Which was not human-the lone Nightingale Has answered me with her most soothing song, Out of her ivy bower, when I sate pale With grief, and sighed beneath; from many a dale The Antelopes who flocked for food have spoken With happy sounds, and motions, that avail Like man's own speech; and such was now the token Of waning night, whose calm by that proud neigh was broken. III. Each night, that mighty steed bore me abroad, And I returned with food to our retreat, And dark intelligence; the blood which flowed Over the fields had stained the courser's feet; Soon the dust drinks that bitter dew,-then meet The vulture, and the wild-dog, and the snake, The wolf, and the hyena grey, and eat The dead in horrid truce: their throngs did make Behind the steed a chasm like waves in a ship's wake. IV. For, from the utmost realms of earth, came pouring The banded slaves whom every despot sent At that throned traitor's summons; like the roaring Of fire, whose floods the wild deer circumvent In the scorched pastures of the South; so bent The armies of the leaguèd kings around Their files of steel and flame ;-the continent Trembled, as with a zone of ruin bound, Beneath their feet, the sea shook with their Navies' sound. |