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IO

Where the tints of the earth, and the hues Like the leaves of the forest when Sumof the sky,

mer is green,

5 In color though varied, in beauty may vie, That host with their banners at sunset And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; were seen: Where the virgins are soft as the roses they Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn twine,

hath blown, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine? 15 That host on the morrow lay withered 'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of and strown.

the Sun, Can he smile on such deeds as his children For the Angel of Death spread his wings have done?

on the blast, Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell And breathed in the face of the foe as he Are the hearts which they bear, and the passed; tales which they tell.

And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly

and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and

for ever grew still! SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY

And there lay the steed with his nostril all She walks in beauty, like the night

wide, Of cloudless climes and starry skies; But through it there rolled not the breath And all that's best of dark and bright

of his pride; Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

And the foam of his gasping lay white on Thus mellowed to that tender light 5

the turf,

15 Which heaven to gaudy day denies. And cold as the spray of the rock-beating

surf. One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace And there lay the rider distorted and pale, Which waves in every raven tress,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on Or softly lightens o'er her face;

his mail: Where thoughts serenely sweet express And the tents were all silent, the banners How pure, how dear, their dwelling- alone, place.

The lances unlifted, the trumpet un

blown. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15 wail,

But tell of days in goodness spent, And the idols are broke in the temple of A mind at peace with all below,

Baal; A heart whose love is innocent!

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by

the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the

Lord!
THE DESTRUCTION OF
SENNACHERIB

STANZAS FOR MUSIC The Assyrian came down like the wolf on There be none of Beauty's daughters the fold,

With a magic like thee; And his cohorts were gleaming in purple And like music on the waters and gold;

Is thy sweet voice to me: And the sheen of their spears was like When, as if its sound were causing 5 stars on the sea,

The charmed ocean's pausing, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep The waves lie still and gleaming, Galilee.

And the lulled winds seem dreaming.

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SONNET ON CHILLON

IO

And the midnight moon is weaving

Her bright chain o'er the deep; Whose breast is gently heaving,

As an infant's asleep: So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean.

15

SO, WE'LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING

So, we'll go no more a-roving

So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright.

Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heartThe heart which love of thee alone can

bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consigned

5 To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless

gloom, Their country conquers with their martyr

dom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every

wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad steps an altar—for 't was

trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! May none those marks

efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.

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For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest.

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THE PRISONER OF CHILLON

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My hair is gray, but not with years;

Nor grew it white

In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bowed, though not with

toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil

, And mine has been the fate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are banned, and barred-forbidden fare; 10 But this was for my father's faith I suffered chains and courted death: That father perished at the stake For tenets he would not forsake; And for the same his lineal race 15 In darkness found a dwelling-place. We were seven-who now are one;

Six in youth, and one in age,
Finished as they had begun,

Proud of Persecution's rage;
One in fire, and two in field,
Their belief with blood have sealed
Dying as their father died,
For the God their foes denied;
Three were in a dungeon cast,

25 Of whom this wreck is left the last.

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There are seven pillars of Gothic mould, For he was beautiful as day-
In Chillon's dungeons deep and old;

(When day was beautiful to me 80 There are seven columns, massy

and

gray, As to young eagles, being free)—
Dim with a dull imprisoned ray, 30 A polar day, which will not see
A sunbeam which hath lost its way, A sunset till its summer's gone,
And through the crevice and the cleft Its sleepless summer of long light,
Of the thick wall is fallen and left: The snow-clad offspring of the sun:
Creeping o'er the floor so damp,

And thus he was as pure and bright, Like a marsh's meteor lamp:

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And in his natural spirit gay, And in each pillar there is a ring,

With tears for naught but others' ills, And in each ring there is a chain; And then they flowed like mountain rills, That iron is a cankering thing,

Unless he could assuage the woe 90 For in these limbs its teeth remain, Which he abhorred to view below. With marks that will not wear away, 40 Till I have done with this new day,

The other was as pure of mind, Which now is painful to these eyes,

But formed to combat with his kind; Which have not seen the sun so rise

Strong in his frame, and of a mood For years—I cannot count them o'er;

Which 'gainst the world in war had stood, I lost their long and heavy score

And perished in the foremost rank 96

45 When my last brother drooped and died,

With joy—but not in chains to pine: And I lay living by his side.

His spirit withered with their clank,

I saw it silently decline They chained us each to a column stone,

And so perchance in sooth did mine; 100 And we were three-yet each alone;

But yet I forced it on to cheer We could not move a single pace,

Those relics of a home so dear. We could not see each other's face,

He was a hunter of the hills, But with that pale and livid light

Had followed there the deer and wolf; That made us strangers in our sight:

To him this dungeon was a gulf, 105 And thus together—yet apart,

And fettered feet the worst of ills. Fettered in hand, but joined in heart, 55

Lake Leman lies by Chillon's walls: 'Twas still some solace in the dearth

A thousand feet in depth below
Of the pure elements of earth,
To hearken to each other's speech,

Its massy waters meet and flow;

Thus much the fathom line was sent And each turn comforter to each,

From Chillon's snow-white battlement, With some new hope, or legend old, 60

Which round about the wave enthralls: Or song heroically bold;

A double dungeon wall and wave
But even these at length grew cold. Have made—and like a living grave.
Our voices took a dreary tone,

Below the surface of the lake

115 An echo of the dungeon-stone,

The dark vault lies wherein we lay; A grating sound -not full and free 65

We heard it ripple night and day; As they of yore were wont to be:

Sounding o'er our heads it knocked; It might be fancy—but to me

And I have felt the winter's spray They never sounded like our own.

Wash through the bars when winds were

high I was the eldest of the three;

And wanton in the happy sky;
And to uphold and cheer the rest 70
I ought to do and did my best,

And then the very rock hath rocked,

And I have felt it shake, unshocked, And each did well in his degree.

Because I could have smiled to see The youngest, whom my father loved,

The death that would have set me free. 125 Because our mother's brow was given To him—with eyes as blue as heaven, — 75 I said my nearer brother pined,

For him my soul was sorely moved. I said his mighty heart declined, And truly might it be distressed

He loathed and put away his food: To see such bird in such a nest;

It was not that 'twas coarse and rude

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For we were used to hunters' fare, 130 I've seen the sick and ghastly bed
And for the like had little care:

Of Sin delirious with its dread:
The milk drawn from the mountain goat But these were horrors—this was woe
Was changed for water from the moat; Unmixed with such,—but sure and slow:
Our bread was such as captives' tears He faded, and so calm and meek, 186
Have moistened many a thousand years, So softly worn, so sweetly weak,
Since man first pent his fellow-men 136 So tearless, yet so tender,-kind,
Like brutes within an iron den;

And grieved for those he left behind; But what were these to us or him?

With all the while a cheek whose bloom These wasted not his heart or limb; Was as a mockery of the tomb, My brother's soul was of that mould 140 Whose tints as gently sunk away Which in a palace had grown cold, As a departing rainbow's rayHad his free-breathing been denied An eye of most transparent light, The range of the steep mountain's side. That almost made the dungeon bright, 195 But why delay the truth?—he died. And not a word of murmur-not I saw, and could not hold his head, 145 A groan o'er his untimely lot! Nor reach his dying hand-nor dead- A little talk of better days, Though hard I strove, but strove in A little hope my own to raise, vain,

For I was sunk in silence-lost To rend and gnash my bonds in twain. In this last loss, of all the most: He died-and they unlocked his chain And then the sighs he would suppress And scooped for him a shallow grave 150 Of fainting nature's feebleness, Even from the cold earth of our cave. More slowly drawn, grew less and less. I begged them, as a boon, to lay

I listened, but I could not hear

205 His corse in dust whereon the day

I called, for I was wild with fear; Might shine-it was a foolish thought, I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread But then within my brain it wrought, 155

Would not be thus admonished; That even in death his free-born breast I called, and thought I heard a soundIn such a dungeon could not rest.

I burst my chain with one strong bound, I might have spared my idle prayer- And rushed to him;—I found him not; 211 They coldly laughed—and laid him there: | I only stirred in this black spot, The flat and turfless earth above 160 I only lived—I only drew The being we so much did love;

The accursed breath of dungeon-dew; His empty chain above it leant,

The last,--the sole, -the dearest link 215 Such murder's fitting monument!

Between me and the eternal brink

Which bound me to my failing race,
But he, the favorite and the flower, Was broken in this fatal place.
Most cherished since his natal hour,

165

One on the earth, and one beneathHis mother's image in fair face,

My brothers—both had ceased to breathe: The infant love of all his race,

I took that hand which lay so still;
His martyred father's dearest thought, Alas, my own was full as chill;
My latest care, for whom I sought

I had not strength to stir or strive,
To hoard my life, that his might be 170

But felt that I was still alive Less wretched now, and one day free; A frantic feeling, when we know 225 He, too, who yet had held untired

That what we love shall ne'er be so. A spirit natural or inspired

I know not why He, too, was struck, and day by day

I could not die; Was withered on the stalk away.

175 I had no earthly hope—but faith, O God! it is a fearful thing

And that forbade a selfish death. 230 To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood:

What next befell me then and there I've seen it rushing forth in blood,

I know not well-I never knew : I've seen it on the breaking ocean 180 First came the loss of light, and air, Strive with a swollen convulsive motion, And then of darkness too:

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I had no thought, no feeling-none - 235 For-Heaven forgive that thought! the Among the stones I stood a stone,

while And was, scarce conscious what I wist, Which made me both to weep and smile; As shrubless crags within the mist; I sometimes deemed that it might be For all was blank, and bleak, and gray, My brother's soul come down to me; It was not night-it was not day;

But then at last away it flew, It was not even the dungeon-light,

And then 'twas mortal-well I knew, 290 So hateful to my heavy sight,

For he would never thus have flown, But vacancy absorbing space,

And left me twice so doubly loneAnd fixedness, without a place:

Lone, -as the corse within its shroud; There were

no stars, -no earth,-no Lone,-as a solitary cloud, time,

245

A single cloud on a sunny day, 295 No check,-no change,-no good,-no While all the rest of heaven is clear, crime,

A frown upon the atmosphere, But silence, and a stirless breath

That hath no business to appear Which neither was of life nor death;

When skies are blue and earth is gay. A sea of stagnant idleness, Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless! 250 My keepers grew compassionate:

A kind of change came in my fate, 300

I know not what had made them so,
A light broke in upon my brain-

They were inured to sights of woe;
It was the carol of a bird;
It ceased, and then it came again,

But so it was—my broken chain

With links unfastened did remain, 305 The sweetest song ear ever heard; And mine was thankful, till my eyes

And it was liberty to stride

255 Ran over with the glad surprise,

Along my cell from side to side,

And up and down, and then athwart, And they that moment could not see

And tread it over every part; I was the mate of misery;

And round the pillars one by one, 310 But then by dull degrees came back

Returning where my walk begun,
My senses to their wonted track, 260

Avoiding only, as I trod,
I saw the dungeon walls and floor
Close slowly round me as before,

My brothers' graves without a sod;

For if I thought with heedless tread I saw the glimmer of the sun

My step profaned their lowly bed,

315 Creeping as it before had done,

My breath came gaspingly and thick, But through the crevice where it came 265

And my crushed heart fell blind and sick. That bird was perched, as fond and tame, And tamer than upon the tree;

I made a footing in the wall, A lovely bird, with azure wings,

It was not therefrom to escape, And song that said a thousand things, For I had buried one and all

320 And seemed to say them all for me! 270 Who loved me in a human shape;

And the whole earth would henceforth be I never saw its like before,

A wider prison unto me: I ne'er shall see its likeness more:

No child—no sire-no kin had I, It seemed, like me, to want a mate, No partner in my misery;

325 But was not half so desolate,

I thought of this, and I was glad, And it was come to love me when

275

For thought of them had made me mad; None lived to love me so again,

But I was curious to ascend And cheering from my dungeon's brink, To my barred windows, and to bend Had brought me back to feel and think. Once more, upon the mountains high, 330 I know not if it late were free,

The quiet of a loving eye. Or broke its cage to perch on mine, 280 I saw them-and they were the same, But knowing well captivity,

They were not changed like me in frame; Sweet bird, I could not wish for thine! I saw their thousand years of snow Or if it were, in winged guise,

On high-their wide long lake below, 335 A visitant from Paradise;

And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;

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