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Percy Bysshe Shelley - The Revolt Of Islam: Canto I-XII
Work rating: Medium

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  The hoodwinked 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.


  `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 sceptred foe:
    He sits amid his idle pomp aghast,
  And that his power hath passed away, doth know—
Why pause the victor swords to seal his overthrow?


  `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.


  `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!


  `If blood be shed, `tis but a change and choice
    Of bonds,—from slavery to cowardice
  A wretched fall!—Uplift thy charmèd voice!
    Pour on those evil men the love that lies
    Hovering within those spirit-soothing eyes—
  Arise, 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.


  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 gray, 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.


  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 seen—
    One who, methought, had gone from the world`s scene,
  And left it vacant—`twas her lover`s face—
    It 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? She slumbered with the dead.
    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.


  Strengthened in heart, yet sad, that aged 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.


  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 woful mass
  That gentlest sleep seemed from my life to sever,
As if the light of youth were not withdrawn for ever.


  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 whatso`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 V

  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 moonlit 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.


  All slept but those in watchful arms who stood,
    And those who sate tending the beacon`s light,
  And the few sounds from that vast multitude
    Made silence more profound.—Oh, what a might
    Of human thought was cradled in that night!
  How many hearts impenetrably veiled
    Beat underneath its shade, what secret fight
  Evil and good, in woven passions mailed,
Waged through that silent throng; a war that never failed!


  And now the Power of Good held victory,
    So, through the labyrinth of many a tent,
  Among the silent millions who did lie
    In innocent sleep, exultingly I went;
    The moon had left Heaven desert now, but lent
  From eastern morn the first faint lustre showed
    An armèd youth—over his spear he bent
  His downward face.—`A friend!` I cried aloud,
And quickly common hopes made freemen understood.


  I sate beside him while the morning beam
    Crept slowly over Heaven, and talked with him
  Of those immortal hopes, a glorious theme!
    Which led us forth, until the stars grew dim:
    And all the while, methought, his voice did swim
  As if it drownèd in remembrance were
    Of thoughts which make the moist eyes overbrim:
  At last, when daylight `gan to fill the air,
He looked on me, and cried in wonder—`Thou art here!`


  Then, suddenly, I knew it was the youth
    In whom its earliest hopes my spirit found;
  But envious tongues had stained his spotless truth,
    And thoughtless pride his love in silence bound,
    And shame and sorrow mine in toils had wound,
  Whilst he was innocent, and I deluded;
    The truth now came upon me, on the ground
  Tears of repenting joy, which fast intruded,
Fell fast, and o`er its peace our mingling spirits brooded.


  Thus, while with rapid lips and earnest eyes
    We talked, a sound of sweeping conflict spread
  As from the earth did suddenly arise;
    From every tent roused by that clamour dread,
    Our bands outsprung and seized their arms—we sped
  Towards the sound: our tribes were gathering far.
    Those sanguine slaves amid ten thousand dead
  Stabbed in their sleep, trampled in treacherous war
The gentle hearts whose power their lives had sought to spare.


  Like rabid snakes, that sting some gentle child
    Who brings them food, when winter false and fair
  Allures them forth with its cold smiles, so wild
    They rage among the camp;—they overbear
    The patriot hosts—confusion, then despair
  Descends like night—when `Laon!` one did cry:
    Like a bright ghost from Heaven that shout did scare
  The slaves, and widening through the vaulted sky,
Seemed sent from Earth to Heaven in sign of victory.


  In sudden panic those false murderers fled,
    Like insect tribes before the northern gale:
  But swifter still, our hosts encompassèd
    Their shattered ranks, and in a craggy vale,
    Where even their fierce despair might nought avail,
  Hemmed them around!—and then revenge and fear
    Made the high virtue of the patriots fail:
  One pointed on his foe the mortal spear—
I rushed before its point, and cried, `Forbear, forbear!`


  The spear transfixed my arm that was uplifted
    In swift expostulation, and the blood
  Gushed round its point: I smiled, and—`Oh! thou gifted
    With eloquence which shall not be withstood,
    Flow thus!`—I cried in joy, `thou vital flood,
  Until my heart be dry, ere thus the cause
    For which thou wert aught worthy be subdued—
  Ah, ye are pale,—ye weep,—your passions pause,—
`Tis well! ye feel the truth of love`s benignant laws.


  `Soldiers, our brethren and our friends are slain.
    Ye murdered them, I think, as they did sleep!
  Alas, what have ye done? the slightest pain
    Which ye might suffer, there were eyes to weep,
    But ye have quenched them—there were smiles to steep
  Your hearts in balm, but they are lost in woe;
    And those whom love did set his watch to keep
  Around your tents, truth`s freedom to bestow,
Ye stabbed as they did sleep—but they forgive ye now.


  `Oh wherefore should ill ever flow from ill,
    And pain still keener pain for ever breed?
  We all are brethren—even the slaves who kill
    For hire, are men; and to avenge misdeed
    On the misdoer, doth but Misery feed
  With her own broken heart! O Earth, O Heaven!
    And thou, dread Nature, which to every deed
  And all that lives or is, to be hath given,
Even as to thee have these done ill, and are forgiven!


  `Join then your hands and hearts, and let the past
    Be as a grave which gives not up its dead
  To evil thoughts.`—A film then overcast
    My sense with dimness, for the wound, which bled
    Freshly, swift shadows o`er mine eyes had shed.
  When I awoke, I lay mid friends and foes,
    And earnest countenances on me shed
  The light of questioning looks, whilst one did close
My wound with balmiest herbs, and soothed me to repose;


  And one whose spear had pierced me, leaned beside,
    With quivering lips and humid eyes;—and all
  Seemed like some brothers on a journey wide
    Gone forth, whom now strange meeting did befall
    In a strange land, round one whom they might call
  Their friend, their chief, their father, for assay
    Of peril, which had saved them from the thrall
  Of death, now suffering. Thus the vast array
Of those fraternal bands were reconciled that day.


  Lifting the thunder of their acclamation,
    Towards the City then the multitude,
  And I among them, went in joy—a nation
    Made free by love;—a mighty brotherhood
    Linked by a jealous interchange of good;
  A glorious pageant, more magnificent
    Than kingly slaves arrayed in gold and blood,
  When they return from carnage, and are sent
In triumph bright beneath the populous battlement.


  Afar, the city-walls were thronged on high,
    And myriads on each giddy turret clung,
  And to each spire far lessening in the sky
    Bright pennons on the idle winds were hung;
    As we approached, a shout of joyance sprung
  At once from all the crowd, as if the vast
    And peopled Earth its boundless skies among
  The sudden clamour of delight had cast,
When from before its face some general wreck had passed.


  Our armies through the City`s hundred gates
    Were poured, like brooks which to the rocky lair
  Of some deep lake, whose silence them awaits,
    Throng from the mountains when the storms are there
    And, as we passed through the calm sunny air
  A thousand flower-inwoven crowns were shed,
    The token flowers of truth and freedom fair,
  And fairest hands bound them on many a head,
Those angels of love`s heaven, that over all was spread.


  I trod as one tranced in some rapturous vision:
    Those bloody bands so lately reconciled,
  Were, ever as they went, by the contrition
    Of anger turned to love, from ill beguiled,
    And every one on them more gently smiled,
  Because they had done evil:—the sweet awe
    Of such mild looks made their own hearts grow mild,
  And did with soft attraction ever draw
Their spirits to the love of freedom`s equal law.


  And they, and all, in one loud symphony
    My name with Liberty commingling, lifted,
  `The friend and the preserver of the free!
    The parent of this joy!` and fair eyes gifted
    With feelings, caught from one who had uplifted
  The light of a great spirit, round me shone;
    And all the shapes of this grand scenery shifted
  Like restless clouds before the steadfast sun,—
Where was that Maid? I asked, but it was known of none.


  Laone was the name her love had chosen,
    For she was nameless, and her birth none knew:
  Where was Laone now?—The words were frozen
    Within my lips with fear; but to subdue
    Such dreadful hope, to my great task was due,
  And when at length one brought reply, that she
    To-morrow would appear, I then withdrew
  To judge what need for that great throng might be,
For now the stars came thick over the twilight sea.


  Yet need was none for rest or food to care,
    Even though that multitude was passing great,
  Since each one for the other did prepare
    All kindly succour—Therefore to the gate
    Of the Imperial House, now desolate,
  I passed, and there was found aghast, alone,
    The fallen Tyrant!—Silently he sate
  Upon the footstool of his golden throne,
Which, starred with sunny gems, in its own lustre shone.


  Alone, but for one child, who led before him
    A graceful dance: the only living thing
  Of all the crowd, which thither to adore him
    Flocked yesterday, who solace sought to bring
    In his abandonment!—She knew the King
  Had praised her dance of yore, and now she wove
    Its circles, aye weeping and murmuring
  Mid her sad task of unregarded love,
That to no smiles it might his speechless sadness move.


  She fled to him, and wildly clasped his feet
    When human steps were heard:—he moved nor spoke,
  Nor changed his hue, nor raised his looks to meet
    The gaze of strangers—our loud entrance woke
    The echoes of the hall, which circling broke
  The calm of its recesses,—like a tomb
    Its sculptured walls vacantly to the stroke
  Of footfalls answered, and the twilight`s gloom
Lay like a charnel`s mist within the radiant dome.


  The little child stood up when we came nigh;
    Her lips and cheeks seemed very pale and wan,
  But on her forehead, and within her eye
    Lay beauty, which makes hearts that feed thereon
    Sick with excess of sweetness; on the throne
  She leaned;—the King, with gathered brow, and lips
    Wreathed by long scorn, did inly sneer and frown
  With hue like that when some great painter dips
His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.


  She stood beside him like a rainbow braided
    Within some storm, when scarce its shadows vast
  From the blue paths of the swift sun have faded;
    A sweet and solemn smile, like Cythna`s, cast
    One moment`s light, which made my heart beat fast,
  O`er that child`s parted lips—a gleam of bliss,
    A shade of vanished days,—as the tears passed
  Which wrapped it, even as with a father`s kiss
I pressed those softest eyes in trembling tenderness.


  The sceptred wretch then from that solitude
    I drew, and, of his change compassionate,
  With words of sadness soothed his rugged mood.
    But he, while pride and fear held deep debate,
    With sullen guile of ill-dissembled hate
  Glared on me as a toothless snake might glare:
    Pity, not scorn I felt, though desolate
  The desolator now, and unaware
The curses which he mocked had caught him by the hair.


  I led him forth from that which now might seem
    A gorgeous grave: through portals sculptured deep
  With imagery beautiful as dream
    We went, and left the shades which tend on sleep
    Over its unregarded gold to keep
  Their silent watch.—The child trod faintingly,
    And as she went, the tears which she did weep
  Glanced in the starlight; wildered seemèd she,
And when I spake, for sobs she could not answer me.


  At last the tyrant cried, `She hungers, slave,
    Stab her, or give her bread!`—It was a tone
  Such as sick fancies in a new-made grave
    Might hear. I trembled, for the truth was known;
    He with this child had thus been left alone,
  And neither had gone forth for food,—but he
    In mingled pride and awe cowered near his throne,
  And she a nursling of captivity
Knew nought beyond those walls, nor what such change might be.


  And he was troubled at a charm withdrawn
    Thus suddenly; that sceptres ruled no more—
  That even from gold the dreadful strength was gone,
    Which once made all things subject to its power—
    Such wonder seized him, as if hour by hour
  The past had come again; and the swift fall
    Of one so great and terrible of yore,
  To desolateness, in the hearts of all
Like wonder stirred, who saw such awful change befall.


  A mighty crowd, such as the wide land pours
    Once in a thousand years, now gathered round
  The fallen tyrant;—like the rush of showers
    Of hail in spring, pattering along the ground,
    Their many footsteps fell, else came no sound
  From the wide multitude: that lonely man
    Then knew the burden of his change, and found,
  Concealing in the dust his visage wan,
Refuge from the keen looks which through his bosom ran.


  And he was faint withal: I sate beside him
    Upon the earth, and took that child so fair
  From his weak arms, that ill might none betide him
    Or her;—when food was brought to them, her share
    To his averted lips the child did bear,
  But, when she saw he had enough, she ate
    And wept the while;—the lonely man`s despair
  Hunger then overcame, and of his state
Forgetful, on the dust as in a trance he sate.


  Slowly the silence of the multitudes
    Passed, as when far is heard in some lone dell
  The gathering of a wind among the woods—
    `And he is fallen!` they cry, `he who did dwell
    Like famine or the plague, or aught more fell
  Among our homes, is fallen! the murderer
    Who slaked his thirsting soul as from a well
  Of blood and tears with ruin! he is here!
Sunk in a gulf of scorn from which none may him rear!`


  Then was heard—`He who judged let him be brought
    To judgement! blood for blood cries from the soil
  On which his crimes have deep pollution wrought!
    Shall Othman only unavenged despoil?
    Shall they who by the stress of grinding toil
  Wrest from the unwilling earth his luxuries,
    Perish for crime, while his foul blood may boil,
  Or creep within his veins at will?—Arise!
And to high justice make her chosen sacrifice.`


  `What do ye seek? what fear ye,` then I cried,
    Suddenly starting forth, `that ye should shed
  The blood of Othman?—if your hearts are tried
    In the true love of freedom, cease to dread
    This one poor lonely man—beneath Heaven spread
  In purest light above us all, through earth
    Maternal earth, who doth her sweet smiles shed
  For all, let him go free; until the worth
Of human nature win from these a second birth.


  `What call ye justice? Is there one who ne`er
    In secret thought has wished another`s ill?—
  Are ye all pure? Let those stand forth who hear,
    And tremble not. Shall they insult and kill,
    If such they be? their mild eyes can they fill
  With the false anger of the hypocrite?
    Alas, such were not pure,—the chastened will
  Of virtue sees that justice is the light
Of love, and not revenge, and terror and despite.`


  The murmur of the people, slowly dying,
    Paused as I spake, then those who near me were,
  Cast gentle looks where the lone man was lying
    Shrouding his head, which now that infant fair
    Clasped on her lap in silence;—through the air
  Sobs were then heard, and many kissed my feet
    In pity`s madness, and to the despair
  Of him whom late they cursed, a solace sweet
His very victims brought—soft looks and speeches meet.


  Then to a home for his repose assigned,
    Accompanied by the still throng he went
  In silence, where, to soothe his rankling mind,
    Some likeness of his ancient state was lent;
    And if his heart could have been innocent
  As those who pardoned him, he might have ended
    His days in peace; but his straight lips were bent,
  Men said, into a smile which guile portended,
A sight with which that child like hope with fear was blended.


  `Twas midnight now, the eve of that great day
    Whereon the many nations at whose call
  The chains of earth like mist melted away,
    Decreed to hold a sacred Festival,
    A rite to attest the equality of all
  Who live. So to their homes, to dream or wake
    All went. The sleepless silence did recall
  Laone to my thoughts, with hopes that make
The flood recede from which their thirst they seek to slake.


  The dawn flowed forth, and from its purple fountains
    I drank those hopes which make the spirit quail,
  As to the plain between the misty mountains
    And the great City, with a countenance pale
    I went:—it was a sight which might avail
  To make men weep exulting tears, for whom
    Now first from human power the reverend veil
  Was torn, to see Earth from her general womb
Pour forth her swarming sons to a fraternal doom:


  To see, far glancing in the misty morning,
    The signs of that innumerable host,
  To hear one sound of many made, the warning
    Of Earth to Heaven from its free children tossed,
    While the eternal hills, and the sea lost
  In wavering light, and, starring the blue sky
    The city`s myriad spires of gold, almost
  With human joy made mute society—
Its witnesses with men who must hereafter be.


  To see, like some vast island from the Ocean,
    The Altar of the Federation rear
  Its pile i` the midst; a work, which the devotion
    Of millions in one night created there,
    Sudden, as when the moonrise makes appear
  Strange clouds in the east; a marble pyramid
    Distinct with steps: that mighty shape did wear
  The light of genius; its still shadow hid
Far ships: to know its height the morning mists forbid!


  To hear the restless multitudes for ever
    Around the base of that great Altar flow,
  As on some mountain-islet burst and shiver
    Atlantic waves; and solemnly and slow
    As the wind bore that tumult to and fro,
  To feel the dreamlike music, which did swim
    Like beams through floating clouds on waves below
  Falling in pauses, from that Altar dim
As silver-sounding tongues breathed an aëreal hymn.


  To hear, to see, to live, was on that morn
    Lethean joy! so that all those assembled
  Cast off their memories of the past outworn;
    Two only bosoms with their own life trembled,
    And mine was one,—and we had both dissembled;
  So with a beating heart I went, and one,
    Who having much, covets yet more, resembled;
  A lost and dear possession, which not won,
He walks in lonely gloom beneath the noonday sun.


  To the great Pyramid I came: its stair
    With female choirs was thronged: the loveliest
  Among the free, grouped with its sculptures rare;
    As I approached, the morning`s golden mist,
    Which now the wonder-stricken breezes kissed
  With their cold lips, fled, and the summit shone
    Like Athos seen from Samothracia, dressed
  In earliest light, by vintagers, and one
Sate there, a female Shape upon an ivory throne:


  A Form most like the imagined habitant
    Of silver exhalations sprung from dawn,
  By winds which feed on sunrise woven, to enchant
    The faiths of men: all mortal eyes were drawn,
    As famished mariners through strange seas gone
  Gaze on a burning watch-tower, by the light
    Of those divinest lineaments—alone
  With thoughts which none could share, from that fair sight
I turned in sickness, for a veil shrouded her countenance bright.


  And, neither did I hear the acclamations,
    Which from brief silence bursting, filled the air
  With her strange name and mine, from all the nations
    Which we, they said, in strength had gathered there
    From the sleep of bondage; nor the vision fair
  Of that bright pageantry beheld,—but blind
    And silent, as a breathing corpse did fare,
  Leaning upon my friend, till like a wind
To fevered cheeks, a voice flowed o`er my troubled mind.


  Like music of some minstrel heavenly-gifted,
    To one whom fiends enthral, this voice to me;
  Scarce did I wish her veil to be uplifted,
    I was so calm and joyous.—I could see
    The platform where we stood, the statues three
  Which kept their marble watch on that high shrine,
    The multitudes, the mountains, and the sea;
  As when eclipse hath passed, things sudden shine
To men`s astonished eyes most clear and crystalline.


  At first Laone spoke most tremulously:
    But soon her voice the calmness which it shed
  Gathered, and—`Thou art whom I sought to see,
    And thou art our first votary here,` she said:
    `I had a dear friend once, but he is dead!—
  And of all those on the wide earth who breathe,
    Thou dost resemble him alone—I spread
  This veil between us two, that thou beneath
Shouldst image one who may have been long lost in death.


  `For this wilt thou not henceforth pardon me?
    Yes, but those joys which silence well requite
  Forbid reply;—why men have chosen me
    To be the Priestess of this holiest rite
    I scarcely know, but that the floods of light
  Which flow over the world, have borne me hither
    To meet thee, long most dear; and now unite
  Thine hand with mine, and may all comfort wither
From both the hearts whose pulse in joy now beat together,


  `If our own will as others` law we bind,
    If the foul worship trampled here we fear;
  If as ourselves we cease to love our kind!`—
    She paused, and pointed upwards—sculptured there
    Three shapes around her ivory throne appear;
  One was a Giant, like a child asleep
    On a loose rock, whose grasp crushed, as it were
  In dream, sceptres and crowns; and one did keep
Its watchful eyes in doubt whether to smile or weep;


  A Woman sitting on the sculptured disk
    Of the broad earth, and feeding from one breast
  A human babe and a young basilisk;
    Her looks were sweet as Heaven`s when loveliest
    In Autumn eves. The third Image was dressed
  In white wings swift as clouds in winter skies;
    Beneath his feet, `mongst ghastliest forms, repressed
  Lay Faith, an obscene worm, who sought to rise,
While calmly on the Sun he turned his diamond eyes.


  Beside that Image then I sate, while she
    Stood, mid the throngs which ever ebbed and flowed,
  Like light amid the shadows of the sea
    Cast from one cloudless star, and on the crowd
    That touch which none who feels forgets, bestowed;
  And whilst the sun returned the steadfast gaze
    Of the great Image, as o`er Heaven it glode,
  That rite had place; it ceased when sunset`s blaze
Burned o`er the isles. All stood in joy and deep amaze—
    —When in the silence of all spirits there
  Laone`s voice was felt, and through the air
Her thrilling gestures spoke, most eloquently fair:—


  `Calm art thou as yon sunset! swift and strong
  As new-fledged Eagles, beautiful and young,
  That float among the blinding beams of morning;
    And underneath thy feet writhe Faith, and Folly,
    Custom, and Hell, and mortal Melancholy—
  Hark! the Earth starts to hear the mighty warning
       Of thy voice sublime and holy;
       Its free spirits here assembled,
         See thee, feel thee, know thee now,—
       To thy voice their hearts have trembled
         Like ten thousand clouds which flow
       With one wide wind as it flies!—
  Wisdom! thy irresistible children rise
  To hail thee, and the elements they chain
And their own will, to swell the glory of thy train.


  `O Spirit vast and deep as Night and Heaven!
  Mother and soul of all to which is given
  The light of life, the loveliness of being,
    Lo! thou dost re-ascend the human heart,
    Thy throne of power, almighty as thou wert
  In dreams of Poets old grown pale by seeing
       The shade of thee:—now, millions start
       To feel thy lightnings through them burning:
         Nature, or God, or Love, or Pleasure,
       Or Sympathy the sad tears turning
         To mutual smiles, a drainless treasure,
       Descends amidst us;—Scorn, and Hate,
  Revenge and Selfishness are desolate—
  A hundred nations swear that there shall be
Pity and Peace and Love, among the good and free!


  `Eldest of things, divine Equality!
  Wisdom and Love are but the slaves of thee,
  The Angels of thy sway, who pour around thee
    Treasures from all the cells of human thought,
    And from the Stars, and from the Ocean brought,
  And the last living heart whose beatings bound thee:
       The powerful and the wise had sought
       Thy coming, thou in light descending
         O`er the wide land which is thine own
       Like the Spring whose breath is blending
         All blasts of fragrance into one,
       Comest upon the paths of men!—
  Earth bares her general bosom to thy ken,
  And all her children here in glory meet
To feed upon thy smiles, and clasp thy sacred feet.


  `My brethren, we are free! the plains and mountains,
  The gray sea-shore, the forests and the fountains,
  Are haunts of happiest dwellers;—man and woman,
    Their common bondage burst, may freely borrow
    From lawless love a solace for their sorrow;
  For oft we still must weep, since we are human.
       A stormy night`s serenest morrow,
       Whose showers are pity`s gentle tears,
         Whose clouds are smiles of those that die
       Like infants without hopes or fears,
         And whose beams are joys that lie
       In blended hearts, now holds dominion;
  The dawn of mind, which upwards on a pinion
  Borne, swift as sunrise, far illumines space,
And clasps this barren world in its own bright embrace!


  `My brethren, we are free! The fruits are glowing
  Beneath the stars, and the night winds are flowing
  O`er the ripe corn, the birds and beasts are dreaming—
    Never again may blood of bird or beast
    Stain with its venomous stream a human feast,
  To the pure skies in accusation steaming;
       Avenging poisons shall have ceased
       To feed disease and fear and madness,
         The dwellers of the earth and air
       Shall throng around our steps in gladness
         Seeking their food or refuge there.
       Our toil from thought all glorious forms shall cull,
  To make this Earth, our home, more beautiful,
  And Science, and her sister Poesy,
Shall clothe in light the fields and cities of the free!


  `Victory, Victory to the prostrate nations!
  Bear witness Night, and ye mute Constellations
  Who gaze on us from your crystalline cars!
    Thoughts have gone forth whose powers can sleep no more!
    Victory! Victory! Earth`s remotest shore,
  Regions which groan beneath the Antarctic stars,
       The green lands cradled in the roar
       Of western waves, and wildernesses
         Peopled and vast, which skirt the oceans
       Where morning dyes her golden tresses,
         Shall soon partake our high emotions:
       Kings shall turn pale! Almighty Fear
  The Fiend-God, when our charmèd name he hear,
  Shall fade like shadow from his thousand fanes,
While Truth with Joy enthroned o`er his lost empire reigns!`


  Ere she had ceased, the mists of night entwining
    Their dim woof, floated o`er the infinite throng;
  She, like a spirit through the darkness shining,
    In tones whose sweetness silence did prolong,
    As if to lingering winds they did belong,
  Poured forth her inmost soul: a passionate speech
    With wild and thrilling pauses woven among,
  Which whoso heard, was mute, for it could teach
To rapture like her own all listening hearts to reach.


  Her voice was as a mountain-stream which sweeps
    The withered leaves of Autumn to the lake,
  And in some deep and narrow bay then sleeps
    In the shadow of the shores; as dead leaves wake
    Under the wave, in flowers and herbs which make
  Those green depths beautiful when skies are blue,
    The multitude so moveless did partake
  Such living change, and kindling murmurs flew
As o`er that speechless calm delight and wonder grew.


  Over the plain the throngs were scattered then
    In groups around the fires, which from the sea
  Even to the gorge of the first mountain-glen
    Blazed wide and far: the banquet of the free
    Was spread beneath many a dark cypress-tree,
  Beneath whose spires, which swayed in the red flame,
    Reclining, as they ate, of Liberty,
  And Hope, and Justice, and Laone`s name,
Earth`s children did a woof of happy converse frame.


  Their feast was such as Earth, the general mother,
    Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles
  In the embrace of Autumn;—to each other
    As when some parent fondly reconciles
    Her warring children, she their wrath beguiles
  With her own sustenance; they relenting weep:
    Such was this Festival, which from their isles
  And continents, and winds, and oceans deep,
All shapes might throng to share, that fly, or walk, or creep,


  Might share in peace and innocence, for gore
    Or poison none this festal did pollute,
  But piled on high, an overflowing store
    Of pomegranates, and citrons, fairest fruit,
    Melons, and dates, and figs, and many a root
  Sweet and sustaining, and bright grapes ere yet
    Accursed fire their mild juice could transmute
  Into a mortal bane, and brown corn set
In baskets; with pure streams their thirsting lips they wet.


  Laone had descended from the shrine,
    And every deepest look and holiest mind
  Fed on her form, though now those tones divine
    Were silent as she passed; she did unwind
    Her veil, as with the crowds of her own kind
  She mixed; some impulse made my heart refrain
    From seeking her that night, so I reclined
  Amidst a group, where on the utmost plain
A festal watchfire burned beside the dusky main.


  And joyous was our feast; pathetic talk,
    And wit, and harmony of choral strains,
  While far Orion o`er the waves did walk
    That flow among the isles, held us in chains
    Of sweet captivity, which none disdains
  Who feels: but when his zone grew dim in mist
    Which clothes the Ocean`s bosom, o`er the plains
  The multitudes went homeward, to their rest,
Which that delightful day with its own shadow blessed.


CANTO VI

  Beside the dimness of the glimmering sea,
    Weaving swift language from impassioned themes,
  With that dear friend I lingered, who to me
    So late had been restored, beneath the gleams
    Of the silver stars; and ever in soft dreams
  Of future love and peace sweet converse lapped
    Our willing fancies, till the pallid beams
  Of the last watchfire fell, and darkness wrapped
The waves, and each bright chain of floating fire was snapped;


  And till we came even to the City`s wall
    And the great gate; then, none knew whence or why,
  Disquiet on the multitudes did fall:
    And first, one pale and breathless passed us by,
    And stared and spoke not;—then with piercing cry
  A troop of wild-eyed women, by the shrieks
    Of their own terror driven,—tumultuously
  Hither and thither hurrying with pale cheeks,
Each one from fear unknown a sudden refuge seeks—


  Then, rallying cries of treason and of danger
    Resounded: and—`They come! to arms! to arms!
  The Tyrant is amongst us, and the stranger
    Comes to enslave us in his name! to arms!`
    In vain: for Panic, the pale fiend who charms
  Strength to forswear her right, those millions swept
    Like waves before the tempest—these alarms
  Came to me, as to know their cause I lept
On the gate`s turret, and in rage and grief and scorn I wept!


  For to the North I saw the town on fire,
    And its red light made morning pallid now,
  Which burst over wide Asia;—louder, higher,
    The yells of victory and the screams of woe
    I heard approach, and saw the throng below
  Stream through the gates like foam-wrought waterfalls
    Fed from a thousand storms—the fearful glow
  Of bombs flares overhead—at intervals
The red artillery`s bolt mangling among them falls.


  And now the horsemen come—and all was done
    Swifter than I have spoken—I beheld
  Their red swords flash in the unrisen sun.
    I rushed among the rout, to have repelled
    That miserable flight—one moment quelled
  By voice and looks and eloquent despair,
    As if reproach from their own hearts withheld
  Their steps, they stood; but soon came pouring there
New multitudes, and did those rallied bands o`erbear.


  I strove, as, drifted on some cataract
    By irresistible streams, some wretch might strive
  Who hears its fatal roar:—the files compact
    Whelmed me, and from the gate availed to drive
    With quickening impulse, as each bolt did rive
  Their ranks with bloodier chasm:—into the plain
    Disgorged at length the dead and the alive
  In one dread mass, were parted, and the stain
Of blood, from mortal steel fell o`er the fields like rain.


  For now the despot`s bloodhounds with their prey
    Unarmed and unaware, were gorging deep
  Their gluttony of death; the loose array
    Of horsemen o`er the wide fields murdering sweep,
    And with loud laughter for their tyrant reap
  A harvest sown with other hopes, the while,
    Far overhead, ships from Propontis keep
  A killing rain of fire:—when the waves smile
As sudden earthquakes light many a volcano-isle,


  Thus sudden, unexpected feast was spread
    For the carrion-fowls of Heaven.—I saw the sight—
  I moved—I lived—as o`er the heaps of dead,
    Whose stony eyes glared in the morning light
    I trod;—to me there came no thought of flight,
  But with loud cries of scorn which whoso heard
    That dreaded death, felt in his veins the might
  Of virtuous shame return, the crowd I stirred,
And desperation`s hope in many hearts recurred.


  A band of brothers gathering round me, made,
    Although unarmed, a steadfast front, and still
  Retreating, with stern looks beneath the shade
    Of gathered eyebrows, did the victors fill
    With doubt even in success; deliberate will
  Inspired our growing troop, not overthrown
    It gained the shelter of a grassy hill,
  And ever still our comrades were hewn down,
And their defenceless limbs beneath our footsteps strown.


  Immovably we stood—in joy I found,
    Beside me then, firm as a giant pine
  Among the mountain-vapours driven around,
    The old man whom I loved—his eyes divine
    With a mild look of courage answered mine,
  And my young friend was near, and ardently
    His hand grasped mine a moment—now the line
  Of war extended, to our rallying cry
As myriads flocked in love and brotherhood to die.


  For ever while the sun was climbing Heaven
    The horseman hewed our unarmed myriads down
  Safely, though when by thirst of carnage driven
    Too near, those slaves were swiftly overthrown
    By hundreds leaping on them:—flesh and bone
  Soon made our ghastly ramparts; then the shaft
    Of the artillery from the sea was thrown
  More fast and fiery, and the conquerors laughed
In pride to hear the wind our screams of torment waft.


  For on one side alone the hill gave shelter,
    So vast that phalanx of unconquered men,
  And there the living in the blood did welter
    Of the dead and dying, which, in that green glen,
    Like stifled torrents, made a plashy fen
  Under the feet—thus was the butchery waged
    While the sun clomb Heaven`s eastern steep—but when
  It `gan to sink—a fiercer combat raged,
For in more doubtful strife the armies were engaged.


  Within a cave upon the hill were found
    A bundle of rude pikes, the instrument
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