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,
That thus with his proud voice, ere night was

gone,

He broke our linkèd rest? or do indeed
All living things a common nature own,
And thought erect an universal throne,
Where many shapes one tribute ever bear?
And Earth, their mutual mother, does she
groan

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.