From her deep eyes far wandering, on the wing Of visions that were mine, beyond its utmost spring. XXX. For, before Cythna loved it, had my song Peopled with thoughts the boundless uni verse, A mighty congregation, which were strong Where'er they trod the darkness to disperse The cloud of that unutterable curse Which clings upon mankind :—all things became Slaves to my holy and heroic verse, Earth, sea and sky, the planets, life and fame And fate, or whate'er else binds the world's wondrous frame. XXXI. And this beloved child thus felt the sway With music and with light, their fountains flowed In poesy; and her still and earnest face, grace, Watching the hopes which there her heart had learned to trace. XXXII. In me, communion with this purest being In knowledge, which in hers mine own mind seeing, Left in the human world few mysteries: Was Cythna!-what a spirit strong and mild, Which death, or pain, or peril could despise, Yet melt in tenderness! what genius wild Yet mighty was enclosed within one simple child! XXXIII. New lore was this-old age with its grey hair, And wrinkled legends of unworthy things, The careless slave of that dark power which brings Evil, like blight on man, who still betrayed, Laughs o'er the grave in which his living hopes are laid. XXXIV. Nor are the strong and the severe to keep The empire of the world: thus Cythna taught Even in the visions of her eloquent sleep, Unconscious of the power through which she wrought The woof of such intelligible thought, As from the tranquil strength which cradled lay In her smile-peopled rest, my spirit sought Why the deceiver and the slave has sway O'er heralds so divine of truth's arising day. XXXV. Within that fairest form, the female mind, Untainted by the poison clouds which rest On the dark world, a sacred home did find : But else, from the wide earth's maternal breast, Victorious Evil, which had dispossessed All native power, had those fair children torn, And made them slaves to soothe his vile unrest, And minister to lust its joys forlorn, Till they had learned to breathe the atmosphere of scorn. XXXVI. This misery was but coldly felt, till she thrown as food grace and power were To the hyena lust, who, among graves, Over his loathed meal, laughing in agony, raves. XXXVII. And I, still gazing on that glorious child, Even as these thoughts flushed o'er her :"Cythna sweet, Well with the world art thou unreconciled; Never will peace and human nature meet Till free and equal man and woman greet Domestic peace; and, ere this power can make In human hearts its calm and holy seat, This slavery must be broken "-as I spake, From Cythna's eyes a light of exultation brake. XXXVIII. She replied earnestly:-"It shall be mine, This task, mine, Laon !-thou hast much to gain; Nor wilt thou at poor Cythna's pride repine, When myriads at thy call shall throng around The Golden City."-Then the child did strain My arm upon her tremulous heart, and wound Her own about my neck, till some reply she found. XXXIX. I smiled, and spake not-"Wherefore dost thou smile At what I say? Laon, I am not weak, And though my cheek might become pale the while, With thee, if thou desirest, will I seek Through their array of banded slaves to wreak Ruin upon the tyrants. I had thought It was more hard to turn my unpractised cheek To scorn and shame, and this beloved spot And thee, O dearest friend, to leave and murmur not. XL. "Whence came I what I am? thou, Laon, knowest How a young child should thus undaunted be; Methinks, it is a power which thou bestowest, Through which I seek, by most resembling thee, So to become most good, and great and free, As I have learnt from them, like me would fear no more. XLI. "Think'st thou that I shall speak unskilfully, And none will heed me? I remember now, How once, a slave in tortures doomed to die, Was saved, because in accents sweet and low He sung a song his Judge loved long ago, As he was led to death.-All shall relent Who hear me tears, as mine have flowed, shall flow, Hearts beat as mine now beats, with such intent As renovates the world; a will omnipotent! XLII. "Yes, I will tread Pride's golden palaces, Through Penury's roofless huts and squalid cells Will I descend, where'er in abjectness Woman with some vile slave her tyrant dwells, There with the music of thine own sweet spells Will disenchant the captives, and will pour For the despairing, from the crystal wells |