No more? At the helm sits a woman more fair Than heaven, when, unbinding its star-braided hair, It sinks with the sun on the earth and the sea. She clasps a bright child on her upgathered knee, It laughs at the lightning, it mocks the mixed thunder Of the air and the sea, with desire and with wonder Is outshining the meteors; its bosom beats high, child, But sleep deeply and sweetly, and so be beguiled Of the pang that awaits us, whatever that be, So dreadful since thou must divide it with me! Dream, sleep! This pale bosom, thy cradle and bed, Will it rock thee not, infant? "Tis beating with dread! Alas! what is life, what is death, what are we, That when the ship sinks we no longer may be? What! to see thee no more, and to feel thee no more? To be after life what we have been before? [eyes, Not to touch those sweet hands, not to look on those Those lips, and that hair, all that smiling disguise Thou yet wearest, sweet spirit, which I, day by day, Have so long called my child, but which now fades Black as a cormorant the screaming blast, Between ocean and heaven, like an ocean, past, Till it came to the clouds on the verge of the world Which, based on the sea and to heaven upcurled, Like columns and walls did surround and sustain The dome of the tempest; it rent them in twain, As a flood rends its barriers of mountainous crag: And the dense clouds in many a ruin and rag, Like the stones of a temple ere earthquake has past, Like the dust of its fall, on the whirlwind are cast; They are scattered like foam on the torrent; and where The wind has burst out through the chasm, from the air Of clear morning, the beams of the sunrise flow in, And that breach in the tempest is widening away, And the long glassy heave of the rocking sea, The deep calm of blue heaven dilating above, Beneath the clear surface reflecting it slide The wide world of waters is vibrating. Where Is the ship? On the verge of the wave where it lay Of solid bones crushed by the infinite stress Swollen with rage, strength, and effort; the whirl and the splash As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth smash The thin winds and soft waves into thunder! the screams And hissings crawl fast o'er the smooth oceanstreams, Each sound like a centipede. Near this commotion, Urge on the keen keel, the brine foams. At the stern Three marksmen stand levelling. Hot bullets burn In the breast of the tiger, which yet bears him on Love, Beauty, are mixed in the atmosphere, Which trembles and burns with the fervour of dread Around her wild eyes, her bright hand, and her head, Like a meteor of light o'er the waters! her child Is yet smiling, and playing, and murmuring: so smiled The false deep ere the storm. Like a sister and brother The child and the ocean still smile on each other, Whilst THE CLOUD. I. I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, I bear light shades for the leaves when laid From my wings are shaken the dews that waken When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, II. I sift the snow on the mountains below, While I sleep in the arms of the blast. In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, Lured by the love of the genii that move And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, III. The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning star shines dead. As on the jag of a mountain crag, Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardours of rest and of love, And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, IV. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these. V. I bind the sun's throne with the burning zone, Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march, When the powers of the air are chained to my In the broad day-light Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, III. Man, the imperial shape, then multiplied Of the sun's throne: palace and pyramid, Temple and prison, to many a swarming million, Were, as to mountain-wolves their ragged caves. This human living multitude Was savage, cunning, blind and rude, For thou wert not; but o'er the populous solitude, Like one fierce cloud over a waste of waves, Hung tyranny; beneath, sate deified The sister-pest, congregator of slaves; Into the shadow of her pinions wide, Anarchs and priests who feed on gold and blood, Till with the stain their inmost souls are dyed, Drove the astonished herds of men from every side. IV. The nodding promontories, and blue isles, And cloud-like mountains, and dividuous waves The world should listen then, as I am listening Of Greece, basked glorious in the open smiles now. Spain, Scattering contagious fire into the sky, Gleamed. My soul spurned the chains of its dismay, And, in the rapid plumes of song, Clothed itself sublime and strong; As a young eagle soars the morning clouds among, Hovering in verse o'er its accustomed prey; Till from its station in the heaven of fame The Spirit's whirlwind rapt it, and the ray Of the remotest sphere of living flame Which paves the void, was from behind it flung, As foam from a ship's swiftness, when there came A voice out of the deep; I will record the Of favouring heaven: from their enchanted caves Prophetic echoes flung dim melody On the unapprehensive wild. The vine, the corn, the olive mild, Grew, savage yet, to human use unreconciled; And like unfolded flowers beneath the sea, Like the man's thought dark in the infant's brain, Like aught that is which wraps what is to be, Art's deathless dreams lay veiled by many a vein Of Parian stone; and yet a speechless child, Verse murmured, and Philosophy did strain Her lidless eyes for thee; when o'er the Ægean main Within the surface of Time's fleeting river One sun illumines Heaven; one spirit vast renew. From what Hyrcanian glen or frozen hill, Didst thou lament the ruin of thy reign, To talk in echoes sad and stern, Of that sublimest lore which man had dared unlearn? IX. XI. The eager hours and unreluctant years As on a dawn-illumined mountain stood, Trampling to silence their loud hopes and fears Darkening each other with their multitude, And cried aloud, Liberty! Indignation Answered Pity from her cave; Death grew pale within the grave, Like shadows: as if day had cloven the skies XII. Thou heaven of earth! what spells could pall thee Round France, the ghastly vintage, stood brood! When one, like them, but mightier far than they, Like clouds with clouds, darkening the sacred XIII. A thousand years the Earth cried, Where art thou? England yet sleeps: was she not called of old? Frowning o'er the tempestuous sea And burst around their walls, like idle foam, X. Thou huntress swifter than the Moon! thou terror Luther caught thy wakening glance: And England's prophets hailed thee as their Of Milton didst thou pass, from the sad scene * See the Baccha of Euripides. Spain calls her now, as with its thrilling thunder From Pithecusa to Pelorus Howls, and leaps, and glares in chorus: [us. They cry, Be dim, ye lamps of heaven suspended o'er Her chains are threads of gold, she need but smile And they dissolve; but Spain's were links of To the eternal years enthroned before us, XIV. Tomb of Arminius! render up thy dead Till, like a standard from a watch-tower's staff, His dead spirit lives in thee. And glorious world! thou flowery wilderness! Where desolation, clothed with loveliness, palaces. |