Its blinding splendour-through such veil was seen That work of subtlest power, divine and rare; Orb above orb, with starry shapes between, And horned moons, and meteors strange and fair, On night-black columns poised-one hollow hemisphere ! LIII. Ten thousand columns in that quivering light Distinct-between whose shafts wound far away The long and labyrinthine aisles-more bright With their own radiance than the Heaven of Day; And on the jasper walls around, there lay Paintings, the poesy of mightiest thought, Which did the Spirit's history display; A tale of passionate change, divinely taught, Which, in their wingèd dance, unconscious Genii wrought. LIV. Beneath, there sate on many a sapphire throne The Great, who had departed from mankind, A mighty Senate ;-some, whose white hair shone Like mountain snow, mild, beautiful, and blind. Some, female forms, whose gestures beamed with mind; And ardent youths, and children bright and fair; And some had lyres whose strings were inter With pale and clinging flames, which ever there Waked faint yet thrilling sounds that pierced the crystal air. LV. One seat was vacant in the midst, a throne, Reared on a pyramid like sculptured flame, Distinct with circling steps which rested on Their own deep fire-soon as the Woman came Into that hall, she shrieked the Spirit's name And fell; and vanished slowly from the sight Darkness arose from her dissolving frame, Which gathering, filled that dome of woven light, Blotting its sphered stars with supernatural night. LVI. Then, first, two glittering lights were seen to glide In circles on the amethystine floor, Small serpent eyes trailing from side to side, Like meteors on a river's grassy shore, They round each other rolled, dilating more And more-then rose, commingling into one, One clear and mighty planet hanging o'er A cloud of deepest shadow, which was thrown Athwart the glowing steps and the crystalline throne. LVII. The cloud which rested on that cone of flame Was cloven; beneath the planet sate a Form, Fairer than tongue can speak or thought may frame, The radiance of whose limbs rose-like and warm Flowed forth, and did with softest light inform The shadowy dome, the sculptures, and the state Of those assembled shapes-with clinging charm Sinking upon their hearts and mine-He sate Majestic, yet most mild-calm, yet compassionate. LVIII. Wonder and joy a passing faintness threw Over my brow--a hand supported me, Whose touch was magic strength: an eye of blue Looked into mine, like moonlight, soothingly; And a voice said-Thou must a listener be This day-two mighty Spirits now return, Like birds of calm, from the world's raging sea, They pour fresh light from Hope's immortal urn; A tale of human power-despair not-list and learn! LIX. I looked, and lo! one stood forth eloquently, His eyes were dark and deep, and the clear brow Which shadowed them was like the morning sky, The cloudless Heaven of Spring, when in their flow Through the bright air, the soft winds as they blow Wake the green world--his gesture did obey The oracular mind that made his features glow, And, where his curvèd lips half open lay, Passion's divinest stream had made impetuous way. LX. Beneath the darkness of his outspread hair He stood thus beautiful: but there was One Who sate beside him like his shadow there, And held his hand-far lovelier-she was known To be thus fair, by the few lines alone Which through her floating locks and gathered cloke, Glances of soul-dissolving glory, shone:-None else beheld her eyes-in him they woke Memories which found a tongue, as thus he silence broke.1 CANTO SECOND. I. THE star-light smile of children, the sweet looks Of women, the fair breast from which I fed, 1 Here the poet follows the allegoric woman "out of the tale," the rest of which is an autobiography told by Laon in the next world.-ED. The shells on the sea-sand, and the wild flowers, The lamp-light through the rafters cheerly spread, And on the twining flax-in life's young hours These sights and sounds did nurse my spirit's folded powers. II. In Argolis, beside the echoing sea, Traditions dark and old, whence evil creeds Start forth, and whose dim shade a stream of poison feeds. III. I heard, as all have heard, the various story Of human life, and wept unwilling tears. Feeble historians of its shame and glory, False disputants on all its hopes and fears, Victims who worshipped ruin,-chroniclers Of daily scorn, and slaves who loathed their state, Yet, flattering power, had given its ministers A throne of judgment in the grave: '-'twas fate, 1 That is to say, slaves who loathed their slavery, yet, being habituated to the flattery of worldly powers, imagined similar powers sitting in judgment on them after death.-ED. |