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

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DEDICATION
TO MARY —- —-

There is no danger to a man, that knows
What life and death is: there`s not any law
Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law. 
—Chapman.

I
  So now my summer task is ended, Mary,
    And I return to thee, mine own heart`s home;
  As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faëry,
    Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome;
    Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame become
  A star among the stars of mortal night,
    If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom,
  Its doubtful promise thus I would unite
With thy belovèd name, thou Child of love and light.

II
  The toil which stole from thee so many an hour,
    Is ended,—and the fruit is at thy feet!
  No longer where the woods to frame a bower
    With interlacèd branches mix and meet,
    Or where with sound like many voices sweet,
  Waterfalls leap among wild islands green,
    Which framed for my lone boat a lone retreat
  Of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen:
But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been.

III
  Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear Friend, when first
    The clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass.
  I do remember well the hour which burst
    My spirit`s sleep: a fresh May-dawn it was,
    When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,
  And wept, I knew not why; until there rose
    From the near schoolroom, voices, that, alas!
  Were but one echo from a world of woes—
The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.

IV
  And then I clasped my hands and looked around—
    —But none was near to mock my streaming eyes,
  Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground—
    So, without shame, I spake:—`I will be wise,
    And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies
  Such power, for I grow weary to behold
    The selfish and the strong still tyrannise
  Without reproach or check.` I then controlled
My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold.

V
  And from that hour did I with earnest thought
    Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore,
  Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught
    I cared to learn, but from that secret store
    Wrought linkèd armour for my soul, before
  It might walk forth to war among mankind;
    Thus power and hope were strengthened more and more
  Within me, till there came upon my mind
A sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined.

VI
  Alas, that love should be a blight and snare
    To those who seek all sympathies in one!—
  Such once I sought in vain; then black despair,
    The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
    Over the world in which I moved alone:—
  Yet never found I one not false to me,
    Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone
  Which crushed and withered mine, that could not be
Aught but a lifeless clod, until revived by thee.

VII
  Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart
    Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain;
  How beautiful and calm and free thou wert
    In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain
    Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,
  And walked as free as light the clouds among,
    Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain
  From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung
To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long!

VIII
  No more alone through the world`s wilderness,
    Although I trod the paths of high intent,
  I journeyed now: no more companionless,
    Where solitude is like despair, I went.—
    There is the wisdom of a stern content
  When Poverty can blight the just and good,
    When Infamy dares mock the innocent,
  And cherished friends turn with the multitude
To trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood!

IX
  Now has descended a serener hour,
    And with inconstant fortune, friends return;
  Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the power
    Which says:—Let scorn be not repaid with scorn.
    And from thy side two gentle babes are born
  To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we
    Most fortunate beneath life`s beaming morn;
  And these delights, and thou, have been to me
The parents of the Song I consecrate to thee.

X
  Is it, that now my inexperienced fingers
    But strike the prelude of a loftier strain?
  Or, must the lyre on which my spirit lingers
    Soon pause in silence, ne`er to sound again,
    Though it might shake the Anarch Custom`s reign,
  And charm the minds of men to Truth`s own sway
    Holier than was Amphion`s? I would fain
  Reply in hope—but I am worn away,
And Death and Love are yet contending for their prey.

XI
  And what art thou? I know, but dare not speak:
    Time may interpret to his silent years.
  Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,
    And in the light thine ample forehead wears,
    And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears,
  And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy
    Is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears:
  And through thine eyes, even in thy soul I see
A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.

XII
  They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth,
    Of glorious parents, thou aspiring Child.
  I wonder not—for One then left this earth
    Whose life was like a setting planet mild,
    Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled
  Of its departing glory; still her fame
    Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild
  Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim
The shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name.

XIII
  One voice came forth from many a mighty spirit,
    Which was the echo of three thousand years;
  And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it,
    As some lone man who in a desert hears
    The music of his home:—unwonted fears
  Fell on the pale oppressors of our race,
    And Faith, and Custom, and low-thoughted cares,
  Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space
Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling-place.

XIV
  Truth`s deathless voice pauses among mankind!
    If there must be no response to my cry—
  If men must rise and stamp with fury blind
    On his pure name who loves them,—thou and I,
    Sweet friend! can look from our tranquillity
  Like lamps into the world`s tempestuous night,—
    Two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing by
  Which wrap them from the foundering seaman`s sight,
That burn from year to year with unextinguished light.


CANTO I

  When the last hope of trampled France had failed
    Like a brief dream of unremaining glory,
  From visions of despair I rose, and scaled
    The peak of an aëreal promontory,
    Whose caverned base with the vexed surge was hoary:
  And saw the golden dawn break forth, and waken
    Each cloud, and every wave:—but transitory
  The calm: for sudden, the firm earth was shaken,
As if by the last wreck its frame were overtaken.


  So as I stood, one blast of muttering thunder
    Burst in far peals along the waveless deep,
  When, gathering fast, around, above, and under,
    Long trains of tremulous mist began to creep,
    Until their complicating lines did steep
  The orient sun in shadow:—not a sound
    Was heard; one horrible repose did keep
  The forests and the floods, and all around
Darkness more dread than night was poured upon the ground.


  Hark! `tis the rushing of a wind that sweeps
    Earth and the ocean. See! the lightnings yawn
  Deluging Heaven with fire, and the lashed deeps
    Glitter and boil beneath: it rages on,
    One mighty stream, whirlwind and waves upthrown,
  Lightning, and hail, and darkness eddying by.
    There is a pause—the sea-birds, that were gone
  Into their caves to shriek, come forth, to spy
What calm has fall`n on earth, what light is in the sky.


  For, where the irresistible storm had cloven
    That fearful darkness, the blue sky was seen
  Fretted with many a fair cloud interwoven
    Most delicately, and the ocean green,
    Beneath that opening spot of blue serene,
  Quivered like burning emerald: calm was spread
    On all below; but far on high, between
  Earth and the upper air, the vast clouds fled,
Countless and swift as leaves on autumn`s tempest shed.


  For ever, as the war became more fierce
    Between the whirlwinds and the rack on high,
  That spot grew more serene; blue light did pierce
    The woof of those white clouds, which seem to lie
    Far, deep, and motionless; while through the sky
  The pallid semicircle of the moon
    Passed on, in slow and moving majesty;
  Its upper horn arrayed in mists, which soon
But slowly fled, like dew beneath the beams of noon.


  I could not choose but gaze; a fascination
    Dwelt in that moon, and sky, and clouds, which drew
  My fancy thither, and in expectation
    Of what I knew not, I remained:—the hue
    Of the white moon, amid that heaven so blue,
  Suddenly stained with shadow did appear;
    A speck, a cloud, a shape, approaching grew,
  Like a great ship in the sun`s sinking sphere
Beheld afar at sea, and swift it came anear.


  Even like a bark, which from a chasm of mountains,
    Dark, vast, and overhanging, on a river
  Which there collects the strength of all its fountains,
    Comes forth, whilst with the speed its frame doth quiver,
    Sails, oars, and stream, tending to one endeavour;
  So, from that chasm of light a wingèd Form
    On all the winds of heaven approaching ever
  Floated, dilating as it came: the storm
Pursued it with fierce blasts, and lightnings swift and warm.


  A course precipitous, of dizzy speed,
    Suspending thought and breath; a monstrous sight!
  For in the air do I behold indeed
    An Eagle and a Serpent wreathed in fight:—
    And now relaxing its impetuous flight,
  Before the aëreal rock on which I stood,
    The Eagle, hovering, wheeled to left and right,
  And hung with lingering wings over the flood,
And startled with its yells the wide air`s solitude.


  A shaft of light upon its wings descended,
    And every golden feather gleamed therein—
  Feather and scale, inextricably blended.
    The Serpent`s mailed and many-coloured skin
    Shone through the plumes its coils were twined within
  By many a swoln and knotted fold, and high
    And far, the neck, receding lithe and thin,
  Sustained a crested head, which warily
Shifted and glanced before the Eagle`s steadfast eye.


  Around, around, in ceaseless circles wheeling
    With clang of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed
  Incessantly—sometimes on high concealing
    Its lessening orbs, sometimes as if it failed,
    Drooped through the air; and still it shrieked and wailed.
  And casting back its eager head, with beak
    And talon unremittingly assailed
  The wreathèd Serpent, who did ever seek
Upon his enemy`s heart a mortal wound to wreak.


  What life, what power, was kindled and arose
    Within the sphere of that appalling fray!
  For, from the encounter of those wondrous foes,
    A vapour like the sea`s suspended spray
    Hung gathered: in the void air, far away,
  Floated the shattered plumes; bright scales did leap,
    Where`er the Eagle`s talons made their way,
  Like sparks into the darkness;—as they sweep,
Blood stains the snowy foam of the tumultuous deep.


  Swift chances in that combat—many a check,
    And many a change, a dark and wild turmoil;
  Sometimes the Snake around his enemy`s neck
    Locked in stiff rings his adamantine coil,
    Until the Eagle, faint with pain and toil,
  Remitted his strong flight, and near the sea
    Languidly fluttered, hopeless so to foil
  His adversary, who then reared on high
His red and burning crest, radiant with victory.


  Then on the white edge of the bursting surge,
    Where they had sunk together, would the Snake
  Relax his suffocating grasp, and scourge
    The wind with his wild writhings; for to break
    That chain of torment, the vast bird would shake
  The strength of his unconquerable wings
    As in despair, and with his sinewy neck,
  Dissolve in sudden shock those linkèd rings,
Then soar—as swift as smoke from a volcano springs.


  Wile baffled wile, and strength encountered strength,
    Thus long, but unprevailing:—the event
  Of that portentous fight appeared at length:
    Until the lamp of day was almost spent
    It had endured, when lifeless, stark, and rent,
  Hung high that mighty Serpent, and at last
    Fell to the sea, while o`er the continent,
  With clang of wings and scream the Eagle passed,
Heavily borne away on the exhausted blast.


  And with it fled the tempest, so that ocean
    And earth and sky shone through the atmosphere—
  Only, `twas strange to see the red commotion
    Of waves like mountains o`er the sinking sphere
    Of sunset sweep, and their fierce roar to hear
  Amid the calm: down the steep path I wound
    To the sea-shore—the evening was most clear
  And beautiful, and there the sea I found
Calm as a cradled child in dreamless slumber bound.


  There was a Woman, beautiful as morning,
    Sitting beneath the rocks, upon the sand
  Of the waste sea—fair as one flower adorning
    An icy wilderness—each delicate hand
    Lay crossed upon her bosom, and the band
  Of her dark hair had fall`n, and so she sate
    Looking upon the waves; on the bare strand
  Upon the sea-mark a small boat did wait,
Fair as herself, like Love by Hope left desolate.


  It seemed that this fair Shape had looked upon
    That unimaginable fight, and now
  That her sweet eyes were weary of the sun,
    As brightly it illustrated her woe;
    For in the tears which silently to flow
  Paused not, its lustre hung: she watching aye
    The foam-wreaths which the faint tide wove below
  Upon the spangled sands, groaned heavily,
And after every groan looked up over the sea.


  And when she saw the wounded Serpent make
    His path between the waves, her lips grew pale,
  Parted, and quivered; the tears ceased to break
    From her immovable eyes; no voice of wail
    Escaped her; but she rose, and on the gale
  Loosening her star-bright robe and shadowy hair
    Poured forth her voice; the caverns of the vale
  That opened to the ocean, caught it there,
And filled with silver sounds the overflowing air.


  She spake in language whose strange melody
    Might not belong to earth. I heard, alone,
  What made its music more melodious be,
    The pity and the love of every tone;
    But to the Snake those accents sweet were known
  His native tongue and hers; nor did he beat
    The hoar spray idly then, but winding on
  Through the green shadows of the waves that meet
Near to the shore, did pause beside her snowy feet.


  Then on the sands the Woman sate again,
    And wept and clasped her hands, and all between,
  Renewed the unintelligible strain
    Of her melodious voice and eloquent mien;
    And she unveiled her bosom, and the green
  And glancing shadows of the sea did play
    O`er its marmoreal depth:—one moment seen,
  For ere the next, the Serpent did obey
Her voice, and, coiled in rest in her embrace it lay.


  Then she arose, and smiled on me with eyes
    Serene yet sorrowing, like that planet fair,
  While yet the daylight lingereth in the skies
    Which cleaves with arrowy beams the dark-red air,
    And said: `To grieve is wise, but the despair
  Was weak and vain which led thee here from sleep:
    This shalt thou know, and more, if thou dost dare
  With me and with this Serpent, o`er the deep,
A voyage divine and strange, companionship to keep.`


  Her voice was like the wildest, saddest tone,
    Yet sweet, of some loved voice heard long ago.
  I wept. `Shall this fair woman all alone,
    Over the sea with that fierce Serpent go?
    His head is on her heart, and who can know
  How soon he may devour his feeble prey?`—
    Such were my thoughts, when the tide gan to flow;
  And that strange boat like the moon`s shade did sway
Amid reflected stars that in the waters lay:—


  A boat of rare device, which had no sail
    But its own curvèd prow of thin moonstone,
  Wrought like a web of texture fine and frail,
    To catch those gentlest winds which are not known
    To breathe, but by the steady speed alone
  With which it cleaves the sparkling sea; and now
    We are embarked—the mountains hang and frown
  Over the starry deep that gleams below,
A vast and dim expanse, as o`er the waves we go.


  And as we sailed, a strange and awful tale
    That Woman told, like such mysterious dream
  As makes the slumberer`s cheek with wonder pale!
    `Twas midnight, and around, a shoreless stream,
    Wide ocean rolled, when that majestic theme
  Shrined in her heart found utterance, and she bent
    Her looks on mine; those eyes a kindling beam
  Of love divine into my spirit sent,
And ere her lips could move, made the air eloquent.


  `Speak not to me, but hear! Much shalt thou learn,
    Much must remain unthought, and more untold,
  In the dark Future`s ever-flowing urn:
    Know then, that from the depth of ages old,
    Two Powers o`er mortal things dominion hold
  Ruling the world with a divided lot,
    Immortal, all-pervading, manifold,
  Twin Genii, equal Gods when life and thought
Sprang forth, they burst the womb of inessential Nought.


  `The earliest dweller of the world, alone,
    Stood on the verge of chaos. Lo! afar
  O`er the wide wild abyss two meteors shone,
    Sprung from the depth of its tempestuous jar:
    A blood-red Comet and the Morning Star
  Mingling their beams in combat—as he stood,
    All thoughts within his mind waged mutual war,
  In dreadful sympathy—when to the flood
That fair Star fell, he turned and shed his brother`s blood.


  `Thus evil triumphed, and the Spirit of evil,
    One Power of many shapes which none may know,
  One Shape of many names; the Fiend did revel
    In victory, reigning o`er a world of woe,
    For the new race of man went to and fro,
  Famished and homeless, loathed and loathing, wild,
    And hating good—for his immortal foe,
  He changed from starry shape, beauteous and mild,
To a dire Snake, with man and beast unreconciled.


  `The darkness lingering o`er the dawn of things,
    Was Evil`s breath and life; this made him strong
  To soar aloft with overshadowing wings;
    And the great Spirit of Good did creep among
    The nations of mankind, and every tongue
  Cursed and blasphemed him as he passed; for none
    Knew good from evil, though their names were hung
  In mockery o`er the fane where many a groan,
As King, and Lord, and God, the conquering Fiend did own,—


  `The Fiend, whose name was Legion; Death, Decay,
    Earthquake and Blight, and Want, and Madness pale,
  Wingèd and wan diseases, an array
    Numerous as leaves that strew the autumnal gale;
    Poison, a snake in flowers, beneath the veil
  Of food and mirth hiding his mortal head;
    And, without whom all these might nought avail,
  Fear, Hatred, Faith, and Tyranny, who spread
Those subtle nets which snare the living and the dead.


  `His spirit is their power, and they his slaves
    In air, and light, and thought, and language, dwell;
  And keep their state from palaces to graves,
    In all resorts of men—invisible,
    But when, in ebon mirror, Nightmare fell
  To tyrant or impostor bids them rise,
    Black-wingèd demon forms—whom, from the hell,
  His reign and dwelling beneath nether skies,
He loosens to their dark and blasting ministries.


  `In the world`s youth his empire was a firm
    As its foundations . . . Soon the Spirit of Good,
  Though in the likeness of a loathsome worm,
    Sprang from the billows of the formless flood,
    Which shrank and fled; and with that Fiend of blood
  Renewed the doubtful war . . . Thrones then first shook,
    And earth`s immense and trampled multitude
  In hope on their own powers began to look,
And Fear, the demon pale, his sanguine shrine forsook.


  `Then Greece arose, and to its bards and sages,
    In dream, the golden-pinioned Genii came,
  Even where they slept amid the night of ages,
    Steeping their hearts in the divinest flame
    Which thy breath kindled, Power of holiest name!
  And oft in cycles since, when darkness gave
    New weapons to thy foe, their sunlike fame
  Upon the combat shone—a light to save,
Like Paradise spread forth beyond the shadowy grave.


  `Such is this conflict—when mankind doth strive
    With its oppressors in a strife of blood,
  Or when free thoughts, like lightnings, are alive,
    And in each bosom of the multitude
    Justice and truth with Custom`s hydra brood
  Wage silent war; when Priests and Kings dissemble
    In smiles or frowns their fierce disquietude,
  When round pure hearts a host of hopes assemble,
The Snake and Eagle meet—the world`s foundations tremble!


  `Thou hast beheld that fight—when to thy home
    Thou dost return, steep not its hearth in tears;
  Though thou may`st hear that earth is now become
    The tyrant`s garbage, which to his compeers,
    The vile reward of their dishonoured years,
  He will dividing give.—The victor Fiend,
    Omnipotent of yore, now quails, and fears
  His triumph dearly won, which soon will lend
An impulse swift and sure to his approaching end.


  `List, stranger, list, mine is an human form,
    Like that thou wearest—touch me—shrink not now!
  My hand thou feel`st is not a ghost`s, but warm
    With human blood.—`Twas many years ago,
    Since first my thirsting soul aspired to know
  The secrets of this wondrous world, when deep
    My heart was pierced with sympathy, for woe
  Which could not be mine own—and thought did keep,
In dream, unnatural watch beside an infant`s sleep.


  `Woe could not be mine own, since far from men
    I dwelt, a free and happy orphan child,
  By the sea-shore, in a deep mountain-glen;
    And near the waves, and through the forests wild,
    I roamed, to storm and darkness reconciled:
  For I was calm while tempest shook the sky:
    But when the breathless heavens in beauty smiled,
  I wept, sweet tears, yet too tumultuously
For peace, and clasped my hands aloft in ecstasy.


  `These were forebodings of my fate—before
    A woman`s heart beat in my virgin breast,
  It had been nurtured in divinest lore:
    A dying poet gave me books, and blessed
    With wild but holy talk the sweet unrest
  In which I watched him as he died away—
    A youth with hoary hair—a fleeting guest
  Of our lone mountains: and this lore did sway
My spirit like a storm, contending there alway.


  `Thus the dark tale which history doth unfold
    I knew, but not, methinks, as others know,
  For they weep not; and Wisdom had unrolled
    The clouds which hide the gulf of mortal woe.—
    To few can she that warning vision show—
  For I loved all things with intense devotion;
    So that when Hope`s deep source in fullest flow,
  Like earthquake did uplift the stagnant ocean
Of human thoughts—mine shook beneath the wide emotion.


  `When first the living blood through all these veins
    Kindled a thought in sense, great France sprang forth,
  And seized, as if to break, the ponderous chains
    Which bind in woe the nations of the earth.
    I saw, and started from my cottage-hearth;
  And to the clouds and waves in tameless gladness,
    Shrieked, till they caught immeasurable mirth—
  And laughed in light and music: soon, sweet madness
Was poured upon my heart, a soft and thrilling sadness.


  `Deep slumber fell on me:—my dreams were fire—
    Soft and delightful thoughts did rest and hover
  Like shadows o`er my brain; and strange desire,
    The tempest of a passion, raging over
    My tranquil soul, its depths with light did cover,—
  Which passed; and calm, and darkness, sweeter far,
    Came—then I loved; but not a human lover!
  For when I rose from sleep, the Morning Star
Shone through the woodbine-wreaths which round my casement were.


  ``Twas like an eye which seemed to smile on me.
    I watched, till by the sun made pale, it sank
  Under the billows of the heaving sea;
    But from its beams deep love my spirit drank,
    And to my brain the boundless world now shrank
  Into one thought—one image—yes, for ever!
    Even like the dayspring, poured on vapours dank,
  The beams of that one Star did shoot and quiver
Through my benighted mind—and were extinguished never.


  `The day passed thus: at night, methought in dream
    A shape of speechless beauty did appear:
  It stood like light on a careering stream
    Of golden clouds which shook the atmosphere;
    A wingèd youth, his radiant brow did wear
  The Morning Star: a wild dissolving bliss
    Over my frame he breathed, approaching near,
  And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness
Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss,—


  `And said: "A Spirit loves thee, mortal maiden,
    How wilt thou prove thy worth?" Then joy and sleep
  Together fled, my soul was deeply laden,
    And to the shore I went to muse and weep;
    But as I moved, over my heart did creep
  A joy less soft, but more profound and strong
    Than my sweet dream; and it forbade to keep
  The path of the sea-shore: that Spirit`s tongue
Seemed whispering in my heart, and bore my steps along.


  `How, to that vast and peopled city led,
    Which was a field of holy warfare then,
  I walked among the dying and the dead,
    And shared in fearless deeds with evil men,
    Calm as an angel in the dragon`s den—
  How I braved death for liberty and truth,
    And spurned at peace, and power, and fame—and when
  Those hopes had lost the glory of their youth,
How sadly I returned—might move the hearer`s ruth:


  `Warm tears throng fast! the tale may not be said—
    Know then, that when this grief had been subdued,
  I was not left, like others, cold and dead;
    The Spirit whom I loved, in solitude
    Sustained his child: the tempest-shaken wood,
  The waves, the fountains, and the hush of night—
    These were his voice, and well I understood
  His smile divine, when the calm sea was bright
With silent stars, and Heaven was breathless with delight.


  `In lonely glens, amid the roar of rivers,
    When the dim nights were moonless, have I known
  Joys which no tongue can tell; my pale lip quivers
    When thought revisits them:—know thou alone,
    That after many wondrous years were flown,
  I was awakened by a shriek of woe;
    And over me a mystic robe was thrown,
  By viewless hands, and a bright Star did glow
Before my steps—the Snake then met his mortal foe.`


  `Thou fearest not then the Serpent on thy heart?`
    `Fear it!` she said, with brief and passionate cry,
  And spake no more: that silence made me start—
    I looked, and we were sailing pleasantly,
    Swift as a cloud between the sea and sky;
  Beneath the rising moon seen far away,
    Mountains of ice, like sapphire, piled on high,
  Hemming the horizon round, in silence lay
On the still waters—these we did approach alway.


  And swift and swifter grew the vessel`s motion,
    So that a dizzy trance fell on my brain—
  Wild music woke me: we had passed the ocean
    Which girds the pole, Nature`s remotest reign—
    And we glode fast o`er a pellucid plain
  Of waters, azure with the noontide day.
    Ethereal mountains shone around—a Fane
    Stood in the midst, girt by green isles which lay
On the blue sunny deep, resplendent far away.


  It was a Temple, such as mortal hand
    Has never built, nor ecstasy, nor dream
  Reared in the cities of enchanted land:
    `Twas likest Heaven, ere yet day`s purple stream
    Ebbs o`er the western forest, while the gleam
  Of the unrisen moon among the clouds
    Is gathering—when with many a golden beam
  The thronging constellations rush in crowds,
Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal floods.


  Like what may be conceived of this vast dome,
    When from the depths which thought can seldom pierce
  Genius beholds it rise, his native home,
    Girt by the deserts of the Universe;
    Yet, nor in painting`s light, or mightier verse,
  Or sculpture`s marble language, can invest
    That shape to mortal sense—such glooms immerse
  That incommunicable sight, and rest
Upon the labouring brain and overburdened breast.


  Winding among the lawny islands fair,
    Whose blosmy forests starred the shadowy deep,
  The wingless boat paused where an ivory stair
    Its fretwork in the crystal sea did steep,
    Encircling that vast Fane`s aërial heap:
  We disembarked, and through a portal wide
    We passed—whose roof of moonstone carved, did keep
  A glimmering o`er the forms on every side,
Sculptures like life and thought; immovable, deep-eyed.


  We came to a vast hall, whose glorious roof
    Was diamond, which had drank the lightning`s sheen
  In darkness, and now poured it through the woof
    Of spell-inwoven clouds hung there to screen
    Its blinding splendour—through such veil was seen
  That work of subtlest power, divine and rare;
    Orb above orb, with starry shapes between,
  And hornèd moons, and meteors strange and fair,
On night-black columns poised—one hollow hemisphere!


  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.


  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 intertwined
  With pale and clinging flames, which ever there
Waked faint yet thrilling sounds that pierced the crystal air.


  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 spherèd stars with supernatural night.


  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.


  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.


  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!`


  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 gestures 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.


  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 cloak,
    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.


CANTO II

  The starlight smile of children, the sweet looks
    Of women, the fair breast from which I fed,
  The murmur of the unreposing brooks,
    And the green light which, shifting overhead,
    Some tangled bower of vines around me shed,
  The shells on the sea-sand, and the wild flowers,
    The lamplight 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.


  In Argolis, beside the echoing sea,
    Such impulses within my mortal frame
  Arose, and they were dear to memory,
    Like tokens of the dead:—but others came
    Soon, in another shape: the wondrous fame
  Of the past world, the vital words and deeds
    Of minds whom neither time nor change can tame,
  Traditions dark and old, whence evil creeds
Start forth, and whose dim shade a stream of poison feeds.


  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 judgement in the grave:—`twas fate,
That among such as these my youth should seek its mate.


  The land in which I lived, by a fell bane
    Was withered up. Tyrants dwelt side by side,
  And stabled in our homes,—until the chain
    Stifled the captive`s cry, and to abide
    That blasting curse men had no shame—all vied
  In evil, slave and despot; fear with lust
    Strange fellowship through mutual hate had tied,
  Like two dark serpents tangled in the dust,
Which on the paths of men their mingling poison thrust.


  Earth, our bright home, its mountains and its waters,
    And the ethereal shapes which are suspended
  Over its green expanse, and those fair daughters,
    The clouds, of Sun and Ocean, who have blended
    The colours of the air since first extended
  It cradled the young world, none wandered forth
    To see or feel: a darkness had descended
  On every heart: the light which shows its worth,
Must among gentle thoughts and fearless take its birth.


  This vital world, this home of happy spirits,
    Was as a dungeon to my blasted kind;
  All that despair from murdered hope inherits
    They sought, and in their helpless misery blind,
    A deeper prison and heavier chains did find,
  And stronger tyrants:—a dark gulf before,
    The realm of a stern Ruler, yawned; behind,
  Terror and Time conflicting drove, and bore
On their tempestuous flood the shrieking wretch from shore.


  Out of that Ocean`s wrecks had Guilt and Woe
    Framed a dark dwelling for their homeless thought,
  And, starting at the ghosts which to and fro
    Glide o`er its dim and gloomy strand, had brought
    The worship thence which they each other taught.
  Well might men loathe their life, well might they turn
    Even to the ills again from which they sought
  Such refuge after death!—well might they learn
To gaze on this fair world with hopeless unconcern!


  For they all pined in bondage; body and soul,
    Tyrant and slave, victim and torturer, bent
  Before one Power, to which supreme control
    Over their will by their own weakness lent,
    Made all its many names omnipotent;
  All symbols of things evil, all divine;
    And hymns of blood or mockery, which rent
  The air from all its fanes, did intertwine
Imposture`s impious toils round each discordant shrine.


  I heard, as all have heard, life`s various story,
    And in no careless heart transcribed the tale;
  But, from the sneers of men who had grown hoary
    In shame and scorn, from groans of crowds made pale
    By famine, from a mother`s desolate wail
  O`er her polluted child, from innocent blood
    Poured on the earth, and brows anxious and pale
  With the heart`s warfare; did I gather food
To feed my many thoughts: a tameless multitude!


  I wandered through the wrecks of days departed
    Far by the desolated shore, when even
  O`er the still sea and jagged islets darted
    The light of moonrise; in the northern Heaven,
    Among the clouds near the horizon driven,
  The mountains lay beneath our planet pale;
    Around me, broken tombs and columns riven
  Looked vast in twilight, and the sorrowing gale
Waked in those ruins gray its everlasting wail!


  I knew not who had framed these wonders then,
    Nor had I heard the story of their deeds;
  But dwellings of a race of mightier men,
    And monuments of less ungentle creeds
    Tell their own tale to him who wisely heeds
  The language which they speak; and now, to me
    The moonlight making pale the blooming weeds,
  The bright stars shining in the breathless sea,
Interpreted those scrolls of mortal mystery.


  Such man has been, and such may yet become!
    Ay, wiser, greater, gentler, even than they
  Who on the fragments of yon shattered dome
    Have stamped the sign of power—I felt the sway
    Of the vast stream of ages bear away
  My floating thoughts—my heart beat loud and fast—
    Even as a storm let loose beneath the ray
  Of the still moon, my spirit onward past
Beneath truth`s steady beams upon its tumult cast.


  It shall be thus no more! too long, too long,
    Sons of the glorious dead, have ye lain bound
  In darkness and in ruin!—Hope is strong,
    Justice and Truth their wingèd child have found—
    Awake! arise! until the mighty sound
  Of your career shall scatter in its gust
    The thrones of the oppressor, and the ground
  Hide the last altar`s unregarded dust,
Whose Idol has so long betrayed your impious trust!


  It must be so—I will arise and waken
    The multitude, and like a sulphurous hill,
  Which on a sudden from its snows has shaken
    The swoon of ages, it shall burst and fill
    The world with cleansing fire: it must, it will—
  It may not be restrained!—and who shall stand
    Amid the rocking earthquake steadfast still,
  But Laon? on high Freedom`s desert land
A tower whose marble walls the leaguèd storms withstand!


  One summer night, in commune with the hope
    Thus deeply fed, amid those ruins gray
  I watched, beneath the dark sky`s starry cope;
    And ever from that hour upon me lay
    The burden of this hope, and night or day,
  In vision or in dream, clove to my breast:
    Among mankind, or when gone far away
  To the lone shores and mountains, `twas a guest
Which followed where I fled, and watched when I did rest.


  These hopes found words through which my spirit sought
    To weave a bondage of such sympathy,
  As might create some response to the thought
    Which ruled me now—and as the vapours lie
    Bright in the outspread morning`s radiancy,
  So were these thoughts invested with the light
    Of language: and all bosoms made reply
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