XXIII.

"So in the populous City, a young maiden Has baffled Havock of the prey which he Marks as his own, whene'er with chains o'erladen

Men make them arms to hurl down tyranny, False arbiter between the bound and free; And o'er the land, in hamlets and in towns The multitudes collect tumultuously, And throng in arms; but tyranny disowns Their claim, and gathers strength around its trembling thrones.

XXIV.

"Blood soon, although unwillingly to shed, The free cannot forbear-the Queen of Slaves, The hood-winked Angel of the blind and dead, Custom, with iron mace points to the graves Where her own standard desolately waves Over the dust of Prophets and of Kings. Many yet stand in her array-she paves Her path with human hearts,' and o'er it flings The wildering gloom of her immeasurable wings.

XXV.

"There is a plain beneath the City's wall, Bounded by misty mountains, wide and vast; Millions there lift at Freedom's thrilling call Ten thousand standards wide, they load the

blast

Which bears one sound of many voices past, And startles on his throne their sceptered foe: He sits amid his idle pomp aghast,

And that his power

know

hath passed away, doth

Why pause the victor swords to seal his over

throw?

66

XXVI.

The tyrant's guards resistance yet maintain : Fearless, and fierce, and hard as beasts of blood,

They stand a speck amid the peopled plain; Carnage and ruin have been made their food From infancy-ill has become their good, And for its hateful sake their will has wove The chains which eat their hearts-the multitude

Surrounding them, with words of human love, Seek from their own decay their stubborn minds to move.

XXVII.

"Over the land is felt a sudden pause, As night and day, those ruthless bands around,

The watch of love is kept :-a trance which

awes

The thoughts of men with hope-as when the sound

Of whirlwind, whose fierce blasts the waves and clouds confound,

Dies suddenly, the mariner in fear

Feels silence sink upon his heart-thus bound,

The conquerors pause, and oh! may freemen

ne'er

Clasp the relentless knees of Dread the murderer!

XXVIII.

"If blood be shed, 'tis but a change and choice

Of bonds, from slavery to cowardice

A wretched fall!-uplift thy charmed voice,

Pour on those evil men the love that lies Hovering within those spirit-soothing eyesArise, my friend, farewell!"-As thus he spake,

From the green earth lightly I did arise, As one out of dim dreams that doth awake, And looked upon the depth of that reposing lake.

XXIX.

I saw my countenance reflected there ;-
And then my youth fell on me like a wind
Descending on still waters-my thin hair
Was prematurely grey, my face was lined
With channels, such as suffering leaves
behind,

Not age; my brow was pale, but in my cheek
And lips a flush of gnawing fire did find
Their food and dwelling; though mine eyes
might speak

A subtle mind and strong within a frame thus weak.

XXX.

And though their lustre now was spent and faded,

Yet in my hollow looks and withered mien The likeness of a shape for which was braided The brightest woof of genius, still was seenOne who, methought, had gone from the world's scene,

And left it vacant-'twas her brother's faceIt might resemble her-it once had been The mirror of her thoughts, and still the grace Which her mind's shadow cast left there a lingering trace.

What then was I? dead.

XXXI.

She slumbered with the

Glory and joy and peace had come and gone. Doth the cloud perish, when the beams are fled Which steeped its skirts in gold? or, dark and lone,

Doth it not through the paths of night unknown,

On outspread wings of its own wind upborne Pour rain upon the earth? the stars are shown.

When the cold moon sharpens her silver horn Under the sea, and make the wide night not forlorn.

XXXII.

Strengthened in heart, yet sad, that agèd man I left, with interchange of looks and tears, And lingering speech, and to the Camp began My way. O'er many a mountain chain which

rears

Its hundred crests aloft, my spirit bears
My frame; o'er many a dale and many a

moor,

And gaily now meseems serene earth wears The blosmy spring's star-bright investiture, A vision which aught sad from sadness might allure.

XXXIII.

My powers revived within me, and I went
As one whom winds waft o'er the bending
grass,
Through many a vale of that broad continent.
At night when I reposed, fair dreams did pass
Before my pillow;-my own Cythna was,
Not like a child of death, among them ever;

When I arose from rest, a woeful mass
That gentlest sleep seemed from my life to

sever,

As if the light of youth were not withdrawn for ever.

XXXIV.

Aye as I went, that maiden who had reared The torch of Truth afar, of whose high deeds The Hermit in his pilgrimage had heard, Haunted my thoughts.-Ah, Hope its sickness feeds

With whatsoe'er it finds, or flowers or weeds! Could she be Cythna ?-Was that corpse a shade

Such as self-torturing thought from madness breeds ?

Why was this hope not torture? yet it made A light around my steps which would not ever fade.

CANTO FIFTH.

I.

OVER the utmost hill at length I sped, A snowy steep ::-the moon was hanging low Over the Asian mountains; and, outspread, The plain, the City, and the Camp below, Skirted the midnight Ocean's glimmering flow;

The City's moon-lit spires and myriad lamps, Like stars in a sublunar sky did glow;

And fires blazed far amid the scattered camps, Like springs of flame which burst where'er swift Earthquake stamps.