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,
110
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,
115
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—
120
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
125
Which wrap them from the foundering seaman’s sight,
That burn from year to year with unextinguished light.
CANTO I
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
130
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,
135
As if by the last wreck its frame were overtaken.
II
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,
140
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.
III
145
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,
150
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.
IV
For, where the irresistible storm had cloven
155
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
160
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.
V
For ever, as the war became more fierce
Between the whirlwinds and the rack on high,
165
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;
170
Its upper horn arrayed in mists, which soon
But slowly fled, like dew beneath the beams of noon.
VI
I could not choose but gaze; a fascination
Dwelt in that moon, and sky, and clouds, which drew
My fancy thither, and in expectation
175
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
180
Beheld afar at sea, and swift it came anear.
VII
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,
185
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.
VIII
190
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,
195
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.
IX
A shaft of light upon its wings descended,
200
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
205
And far, the neck, receding lithe and thin,
Sustained a crested head, which warily
Shifted and glanced before the Eagle’s steadfast eye.
X
Around, around, in ceaseless circles wheeling
With clang of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed
210
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
215
The wreathèd Serpent, who did ever seek
Upon his enemy’s heart a mortal wound to wreak.
XI
What life, what power, was kindled and arose
Within the sphere of that appalling fray!
For, from the encounter of those wondrous foes,
220
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,
225
Blood stains the snowy foam of the tumultuous deep.
XII
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,
230
Until the Eagle, faint with pain and toil,
Remitt
ed 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.
XIII
235
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
240
The strength of his unconquerable wings
As in despair, and with his sinewy neck,
Dissolve in sudden shock those linked rings,
Then soar—as swift as smoke from a volcano springs.
XIV
Wile baffled wile, and strength encountered strength,
245
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
250
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.
XV
And with it fled the tempest, so that ocean
And earth and sky shone through the atmosphere—
255
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
260
And beautiful, and there the sea I found
Calm as a cradled child in dreamless slumber bound.
XVI
There was a Woman, beautiful as morning,
Sitting beneath the rocks, upon the sand
Of the waste sea—fair as one flower adorning
265
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,
270
Fair as herself, like Love by Hope left desolate.
XVII
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;
275
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.
XVIII
280
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
285
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.
XIX
She spake in language whose strange melody
290
Might not belong to earth. I hear, 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
295
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.
XX
Then on the sands the Woman sate again,
And wept and clasped her hands, and all between,
300
Renewed the unintelligble 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,
305
For ere the next, the Serpent did obey
Her voice, and, coiled in rest in her embrace it lay.
XXI
Then she arose, and smiled on me with eyes
Serene yet sorrowing, like that planet fair,
While yet the daylight lingereth in the skies
310
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,
315
A voyage divine and strange, companionship to keep.’
XXII
Her voice was like the wildest, saddest tone,
I wept. ‘Shall this fair woman all alone,
Over the sea with that fierce Serpent go?
320
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:—
XXIII
325
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 these gentlest winds which are not known
To breathe, but by the steady speed alone
330
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.
XXIV
And as we sailed, a strange and awful tale
335
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
340
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.
XXV
‘Speak not to me, but hear! Much shalt thou learn,
Much must remain unthought, and more untold,
345
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,
350
Twin Genii, equal Gods—when life and thought
Sprang forth, they burst the womb of inessential Nought.
XXVI
‘The earliest dweller of the world, alone,
Stood on the verge of chaos. Lo! afar
O’er the wide wild abyss two meteors shone,
355
Sprung from the depth of its tempestuous jar:
A blood-red Comet and the Morning Star
Mingling their beams in comba
t—as he stood,
All thoughts within his mind waged mutual war,
In dreadful sympathy—when to the flood
360
That fair Star fell, he turned and shed his brother’s blood.
XXVII
‘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,
365
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.
XXVIII
370
‘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
375
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,—
XXIX
‘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;
385
And, without whom all these might nought avail,
Fear, Hatred, Faith, and Tyranny, who spread