As calm decks the false Ocean: — well ye know
What Woman is, for none of Woman born
Can choose but drain the bitter dregs of woe,
Which ever from the oppressed to the oppressors flow.
XVI
‘“This need not be; ye might arise, and will
That gold should lose its power, and thrones their glory;
That love, which none may bind, be free to fill
The world, like light; and evil faith, grown hoary
With crime, be quenched and die. — Yon promontory
Even now eclipses the descending moon! —
Dungeons and palaces are transitory —
High temples fade like vapor — Man alone
Remains, whose will has power when all beside is gone.
XVII
‘“Let all be free and equal! — from your hearts
I feel an echo; through my inmost frame
Like sweetest sound, seeking its mate, it darts.
Whence come ye, friends? Alas, I cannot name
All that I read of sorrow, toil and shame
On your worn faces; as in legends old
Which make immortal the disastrous fame
Of conquerors and impostors false and bold,
The discord of your hearts I in your looks behold.
XVIII
‘“Whence come ye, friends? from pouring human blood
Forth on the earth? or bring ye steel and gold,
That kings may dupe and slay the multitude?
Or from the famished poor, pale, weak and cold,
Bear ye the earnings of their toil? unfold!
Speak! are your hands in slaughter’s sanguine hue
Stained freshly? have your hearts in guile grown old?
Know yourselves thus! ye shall be pure as dew,
And I will be a friend and sister unto you.
XIX
‘“Disguise it not — we have one human heart —
All mortal thoughts confess a common home;
Blush not for what may to thyself impart
Stains of inevitable crime; the doom
Is this, which has, or may, or must, become
Thine, and all humankind’s. Ye are the spoil
Which Time thus marks for the devouring tomb —
Thou and thy thoughts, and they, and all the toil
Wherewith ye twine the rings of life’s perpetual coil.
XX
‘“Disguise it not — ye blush for what ye hate,
And Enmity is sister unto Shame;
Look on your mind — it is the book of fate —
Ah! it is dark with many a blazoned name
Of misery — all are mirrors of the same;
But the dark fiend who with his iron pen,
Dipped in scorn’s fiery poison, makes his fame
Enduring there, would o’er the heads of men
Pass harmless, if they scorned to make their hearts his den.
XXI
‘“Yes, it is Hate, that shapeless fiendly thing
Of many names, all evil, some divine,
Whom self-contempt arms with a mortal sting;
Which, when the heart its snaky folds entwine,
Is wasted quite, and when it doth repine
To gorge such bitter prey, on all beside
It turns with ninefold rage, as with its twine
When Amphisbæna some fair bird has tied,
Soon o’er the putrid mass he threats on every side.
XXII
‘“Reproach not thine own soul, but know thyself,
Nor hate another’s crime, nor loathe thine own.
It is the dark idolatry of self,
Which, when our thoughts and actions once are gone,
Demands that man should weep, and bleed, and groan;
Oh, vacant expiation! be at rest!
The past is Death’s, the future is thine own;
And love and joy can make the foulest breast
A paradise of flowers, where peace might build her nest.
XXIII
‘“Speak thou! whence come ye?” — A youth made reply, —
“Wearily, wearily o’er the boundless deep
We sail; thou readest well the misery
Told in these faded eyes, but much doth sleep
Within, which there the poor heart loves to keep,
Or dare not write on the dishonored brow;
Even from our childhood have we learned to steep
The bread of slavery in the tears of woe,
And never dreamed of hope or refuge until now.
XXIV
‘“Yes — I must speak — my secret should have perished
Even with the heart it wasted, as a brand
Fades in the dying flame whose life it cherished,
But that no human bosom can withstand
Thee, wondrous Lady, and the mild command
Of thy keen eyes: — yes, we are wretched slaves,
Who from their wonted loves and native land
Are reft, and bear o’er the dividing waves
The unregarded prey of calm and happy graves.
XXV
‘“We drag afar from pastoral vales the fairest
Among the daughters of those mountains lone;
We drag them there where all things best and rarest
Are stained and trampled; years have come and gone
Since, like the ship which bears me, I have known
No thought; but now the eyes of one dear maid
On mine with light of mutual love have shone —
She is my life — I am but as the shade
Of her — a smoke sent up from ashes, soon to fade! —
XXVI
‘“For she must perish in the Tyrant’s hall —
Alas, alas!” — He ceased, and by the sail
Sat cowering — but his sobs were heard by all,
And still before the Ocean and the gale
The ship fled fast till the stars ‘gan to fail;
And, round me gathered with mute countenance,
The Seamen gazed, the Pilot, worn and pale
With toil, the Captain with gray locks whose glance
Met mine in restless awe — they stood as in a trance.
XXVII
‘“Recede not! pause not now! thou art grown old,
But Hope will make thee young, for Hope and Youth
Are children of one mother, even Love — behold!
The eternal stars gaze on us! — is the truth
Within your soul? care for your own, or ruth
For others’ sufferings? do ye thirst to bear
A heart which not the serpent Custom’s tooth
May violate? — be free! and even here,
Swear to be firm till death!” — they cried, “We swear! we swear!”
XXVIII
‘The very darkness shook, as with a blast
Of subterranean thunder, at the cry;
The hollow shore its thousand echoes cast
Into the night, as if the sea and sky
And earth rejoiced with new-born liberty,
For in that name they swore! Bolts were undrawn,
And on the deck with unaccustomed eye
The captives gazing stood, and every one
Shrank as the inconstant torch upon her countenance shone.
XXIX
‘They were earth’s purest children, young and fair,
With eyes the shrines of unawakened thought,
And brows as bright as spring or morning, ere
Dark time had there its evil legend wrought
In characters of cloud which wither not.
The change was like a dream to them; but soon
They knew the glory of their altered lot —
In the bright wisdom of youth’s breathless noon,
Sweet talk and smiles and sighs all bosoms did attune.
XXX
‘But one was mute; h
er cheeks and lips most fair,
Changing their hue like lilies newly blown
Beneath a bright acacia’s shadowy hair
Waved by the wind amid the sunny noon,
Showed that her soul was quivering; and full soon
That youth arose, and breathlessly did look
On her and me, as for some speechless boon;
I smiled, and both their hands in mine I took,
And felt a soft delight from what their spirits shook.
REVOLT OF ISLAM: Canto Ninth
I
‘THAT night we anchored in a woody bay,
And sleep no more around ns dared to hover
Than, when all doubt and fear has passed away,
It shades the couch of some unresting lover
Whose heart is now at rest; thus night passed over
In mutual joy; around, a forest grew
Of poplars and dark oaks, whose shade did cover
The waning stars pranked in the waters blue,
And trembled in the wind which from the morning flew.
II
‘The joyous mariners and each free maiden
Now brought from the deep forest many a bough,
With woodland spoil most innocently laden;
Soon wreaths of budding foliage seemed to flow
Over the mast and sails; the stern and prow
Were canopied with blooming boughs; the while
On the slant sun’s path o’er the waves we go
Rejoicing, like the dwellers of an isle
Doomed to pursue those waves that cannot cease to smile.
III
‘The many ships spotting the dark blue deep
With snowy sails, fled fast as ours came nigh,
In fear and wonder; and on every steep
Thousands did gaze. They heard the startling cry,
Like earth’s own voice lifted unconquerably
To all her children, the unbounded mirth,
The glorious joy of thy name — Liberty!
They heard! — As o’er the mountains of the earth
From peak to peak leap on the beams of morning’s birth,
IV
‘So from that cry over the boundless hills
Sudden was caught one universal sound,
Like a volcano’s voice whose thunder fills
Remotest skies, — such glorious madness found
A path through human hearts with stream which drowned
Its struggling fears and cares, dark Custom’s brood;
They knew not whence it came, but felt around
A wide contagion poured — they called aloud
On Liberty — that name lived on the sunny flood.
V
‘We reached the port. Alas! from many spirits
The wisdom which had waked that cry was fled,
Like the brief glory which dark Heaven inherits
From the false dawn, which fades ere it is spread,
Upon the night’s devouring darkness shed;
Yet soon bright day will burst — even like a chasm
Of fire, to burn the shrouds outworn and dead
Which wrap the world; a wide enthusiasm,
To cleanse the fevered world as with an earthquake’s spasm!
VI
‘I walked through the great City then, but free
From shame or fear; those toil-worn mariners
And happy maidens did encompass me;
And like a subterranean wind that stirs
Some forest among caves, the hopes and fears
From every human soul a murmur strange
Made as I passed; and many wept with tears
Of joy and awe, and wingèd thoughts did range,
And half-extinguished words which prophesied of change.
VII
‘For with strong speech I tore the veil that hid
Nature, and Truth, and Liberty, and Love, —
As one who from some mountain’s pyramid
Points to the unrisen sun! the shades approve
His truth, and flee from every stream and grove.
Thus, gentle thoughts did many a bosom fill,
Wisdom the mail of tried affections wove
For many a heart, and tameless scorn of ill
Thrice steeped in molten steel the unconquerable will.
VIII
‘Some said I was a maniac wild and lost;
Some, that I scarce had risen from the grave
The Prophet’s virgin bride, a heavenly ghost;
Some said I was a fiend from my weird cave,
Who had stolen human shape, and o’er the wave,
The forest, and the mountain, came; some said
I was the child of God, sent down to save
Woman from bonds and death, and on my head
The burden of their sins would frightfully be laid.
IX
‘But soon my human words found sympathy
In human hearts; the purest and the best,
As friend with friend, made common cause with me,
And they were few, but resolute; the rest,
Ere yet success the enterprise had blessed,
Leagued with me in their hearts; their meals, their slumber,
Their hourly occupations, were possessed
By hopes which I had armed to overnumber
Those hosts of meaner cares which life’s strong wings encumber.
X
‘But chiefly women, whom my voice did waken
From their cold, careless, willing slavery,
Sought me; one truth their dreary prison has shaken,
They looked around, and lo! they became free!
Their many tyrants, sitting desolately
In slave-deserted halls, could none restrain;
For wrath’s red fire had withered in the eye
Whose lightning once was death, — nor fear nor gain
Could tempt one captive now to lock another’s chain.
XI
‘Those who were sent to bind me wept, and felt
Their minds outsoar the bonds which clasped them round,
Even as a waxen shape may waste and melt
In the white furnace; and a visioned swound,
A pause of hope and awe, the City bound,
Which, like the silence of a tempest’s birth,
The sun, the wind, the ocean, and the earth,
Hung terrible, ere yet the lightnings have leaped forth.
XII
‘Like clouds inwoven in the silent sky
By winds from distant regions meeting there,
In the high name of Truth and Liberty
Around the City millions gathered were
By hopes which sprang from many a hidden lair, —
Words which the lore of truth in hues of grace
Arrayed, thine own wild songs which in the air
Like homeless odors floated, and the name
Of thee, and many a tongue which thou hadst dipped in flame.
XIII
‘The Tyrant knew his power was gone, but Fear,
The nurse of Vengeance, bade him wait the event —
That perfidy and custom, gold and prayer,
And whatsoe’er, when Force is impotent,
To Fraud the sceptre of the world has lent,
Might, as he judged, confirm his failing sway.
Therefore throughout the streets, the Priests he sent
To curse the rebels. To their gods did they
For Earthquake, Plague and Want, kneel in the public way.
XIV
‘And grave and hoary men were bribed to tell,
From seats where law is made the slave of wrong,
How glorious Athens in her splendor fell,
Because her sons were free, — and that among
Mankind, the many to the few belong
By Heaven, and Nature, and Necessity.
The
y said, that age was truth, and that the young
Marred with wild hopes the peace of slavery,
With which old times and men had quelled the vain and free.
XV
‘And with the falsehood of their poisonous lips
They breathed on the enduring memory
Of sages and of bards a brief eclipse.
There was one teacher, who necessity
Had armed with strength and wrong against mankind,
His slave and his avenger aye to be;
That we were weak and sinful, frail and blind,
And that the will of one was peace, and we
Should seek for nought on earth but toil and misery —
XVI
‘“For thus we might avoid the hell hereafter.”
So spake the hypocrites, who cursed and lied.
Alas, their sway was passed, and tears and laughter
Clung to their hoary hair, withering the pride
Which in their hollow hearts dared still abide;
And yet obscener slaves with smoother brow,
And sneers on their strait lips, thin, blue and wide,
Said that the rule of men was over now,
And hence the subject world to woman’s will must bow.
XVII
‘And gold was scattered through the streets, and wine
Flowed at a hundred feasts within the wall.
In vain! the steady towers in Heaven did shine
As they were wont, nor at the priestly call
Left Plague her banquet in the Æthiop’s hall,
Nor Famine from the rich man’s portal came,
Where at her ease she ever preys on all
Who throng to kneel for food; nor fear, nor shame,
Nor faith, nor discord, dimmed hope’s newly kindled flame.
XVIII
‘For gold was as a god whose faith began
To fade, so that its worshippers were few;
And Faith itself, which in the heart of man
Gives shape, voice, name, to spectral Terror, knew
Its downfall, as the altars lonelier grew,
Till the Priests stood alone within the fane;
The shafts of falsehood unpolluting flew,
And the cold sneers of calumny were vain
The union of the free with discord’s brand to stain.
XIX
‘The rest thou knowest. — Lo! we two are here —
We have survived a ruin wide and deep —
Strange thoughts are mine. I cannot grieve or fear.
Sitting with thee upon this lonely steep
I smile, though human love should make me weep.
We have survived a joy that knows no sorrow,
And I do feel a mighty calmness creep
Over my heart, which can no longer borrow
Its hues from chance or change, dark children of to-morrow.
XX
‘We know not what will come. Yet, Laon, dearest,