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Where the tints of the earth, and the hues Like the leaves of the forest when Sumof the sky,
mer is green, 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; 10 I 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 unblown.
20 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
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.
SONNET ON CHILLON
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
The heart which love of thee alone can
gloom, Their country conquers with their martyr
dom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every
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.
THE PRISONER OF CHILLON
My hair is gray, but not with years; MY BOAT IS ON THE SHORE Nor grew it white
In a single night, My boat is on the shore,
As men's have grown from sudden fears: And my bark is on the sea;
My limbs are bowed, though not with But, before I go, Tom Moore,
toil, Here's a double health to thee!
But rusted with a vile repose,
For they have been a dungeon's spoil, Here's a sigh to those who love me, 5 And mine has been the fate of those
And a smile to those who hate; To whom the goodly earth and air And, whatever sky's above me,
Are banned, and barred-forbidden fare; 10 Here's a heart for every fate.
But this was for my father's faith
I suffered chains and courted death: Though the ocean roar around me, That father perished at the stake
Yet it still shall bear me on; 10 For tenets he would not forsake; Though a desert should surround me, And for the same his lineal race
15 It hath springs that may be won. In darkness found a dwelling-place.
We were seven-who now are one; Were't the last drop in the well,
Six in youth, and one in age, As I gasped upon the brink,
Finished as they had begun, Ere my fainting spirit fell,
Proud of Persecution's rage; 'Tis to thee that I would drink. One in fire, and two in field,
Their belief with blood have sealed With that water, as this wine,
Dying as their father died, The libation I would pour
For the God their foes denied; Should be-peace with thine and mine, | Three were in a dungeon cast, 25
And a health to thee, Tom Moore. 20 Of whom this wreck is left the last. .
There are seven pillars of Gothic mould, For he was beautiful as day
(When day was beautiful to me There are seven columns, massy and gray, As to young eagles, being free) — Dim with a dull imprisoned ray,
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: 85 Creeping o'er the floor so damp,
And thus he was as pure and bright, Like a marsh's meteor lamp:
And in his natural spirit gay, And in each pillar there is a ring,
With tears for naught but others' ills,
Unless he could assuage the woe
The other was as pure of mind,
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,
Its massy waters meet and flow; To hearken to each other's speech,
Thus much the fathom line was sent "110 And each turn comforter to each,
From Chillon's snow-white battlement, With some new hope, or legend old,
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 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
120 I was the eldest of the three;
And wanton in the happy sky; And to uphold and cheer the rest
And then the very rock hath rocked, I ought to do—and did-my best,
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
For we were used to hunters' fare, 130 I've seen the sick and ghastly bed
Of Sin delirious with its dread:
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, 191 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 silencelost 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,
My brothers—both had ceased to breathe: The infant love of all his race,
I took that hand which lay so still; 221 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 aliveLess 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
I could not die;
And that forbade a selfish death. 230
What next befell me then and there
I know not well-I never knew:-
I had no thought, no feeling-none 235 For-Heaven forgive that thought! the Among the stones I stood a stone,
285 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
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,
A kind of change came in my fate, Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless! 250
My keepers grew compassionate: A light broke in upon my brain
I know not what had made them so,
They were inured to sights of woe; It was the carol of a bird;
But so it was—my broken chain
With links unfastened did remain,
And it was liberty to stride
Along my cell from side to side, And they that moment could not see
And up and down, and then athwart,
And tread it over every part; I was the mate of misery;
And round the pillars one by one, 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
My brothers' graves without a sod; Close slowly round me as before,
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,
And my crushed heart fell blind and sick. 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:
No child—no sire-no kin had I,
I thought of this, and I was glad,
But I was curious to ascend
The quiet of a loving eye.
They were not changed like me in frame;
On high-their wide long lake below, 335 A visitant from Paradise;
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;