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Tell me, Moon, thou pale and gray
Seekest thou repose now?
I see the waves upon the shore,
Is flashing round me, and a tone
Weary Wind, who wanderest
On the tree or billow?
Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
| Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years,
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep
Are brackish with the salt of human tears! Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb Others I see whom these surround-25
Claspest the limits of mortality, 5 Smiling they live, and call life pleas
And sick of prey, yet howling on for ure;—
more, To me that cup has been dealt in another
Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable measure.
shore; Yet now despair itself is mild,
Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Even as the winds and waters are;
Who shall put forth on thee, I could lie down like a tired child,
30 And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must
Spirit of Night!
36 | Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, 5
Which make thee terrible and dear,Some might lament that I were cold,
Swift be thy flight!
Unlike this day, which, when the sun Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Shall on its stainless glory set,
Touching all with thine opiate wandWill linger, though enjoyed, like joy in
Come, long sought! memory yet.
When I arose and saw the dawn, 15
I sighed for thee; THE WORLD'S WANDERERS When light rode high, and the dew was
gone, Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light | And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, Speed thee in thy fiery flight,
And the weary Day turned to his rest, In what cavern of the night
Lingering like an unloved guest, 20 Will thy pinions close now?
I sighed for thee.
Thy brother Death came, and cried, Ere the cloud piled on Atlas can dwindle Wouldst thou me?
We encircle the earth and the moon: 10 Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, We shall rest from long labors at noon: Murmured like a noon-tide bee, 25 Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean. Shall I nestle near thy side?
On the brink of the night and the morning Wouldst thou me?-And I replied,
My coursers are wont to respire;
But the earth has just whispered a warnDeath will come when thou art dead,
That their flight must be swifter than Soon, too soon - 30 |
fire: Sleep will come when thou art fled;
They shall drink the hot speed of deOf neither would I ask the boon
From Act II, SCENE V
Voice in the Air, singing: Life of Life! thy
With their love the breath between TO —
And thy smiles before they dwindle One word is too often profaned
Make the cold air fire; then screen them For me to profane it,
In those looks, where whoso gazes 5 One feeling too falsely disdained
Faints, entangled in their mazes.
Child of Light! thy limbs are burning
Through the vest which seems to hide And pity from thee more dear
them; Than that from another.
As the radiant lines of morning
Through the clouds ere they divide I can give not what men call love,
them; But wilt thou accept not 10 And this atmosphere divinest The worship the heart lifts above Shrouds thee whereso'er thou shinest.
And the Heavens reject not, - Fair are others; none beholds thee, The desire of the moth for the star,
But thy voice sounds low and tender
15 The devotion to something afar 15
From the sight, that liquid splendor, From the sphere of our sorrow? And all feel, yet see thee never,
As I feel now, lost for ever!
Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest PROMETHEUS UNBOUND
Its dim shapes are clad with brightness, From Act II, SCENES IV AND V
And the souls of whom thou lovest 21
Walk upon the winds with lightness, Spirit of the Hour: My coursers are fed Till they fail, as I am failing, with the lightning,
Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!
From Act IV
Here, oh, here
Of the Father of many a cancelled year! I desire: and their speed makes night Spectres we kindle;
Of the dead Hours be, I fear: they outstrip the Typhoon; We bear Time to his tomb in eternity.
An from the rest, for its
Strew, oh, strew
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope Hair, not yew!
creates Wet the dusty pall with tears, not dew! From its own wreck the thing it contemBe the faded flowers
plates; Of Death's bare bowers
Neither to change, nor falter, nor Spread on the corpse of the King of Hours! repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be Haste, oh, haste!
Good, great, and joyous, beautiful, and As shades are chased
free; Trembling, by day, from heaven's blue | This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Vicwaste.
25 We melt away
Like dissolving spray
I weep for Adonais—he is dead!
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear From Act IV
And thou, sad Hour, selected from all Demogorgon: This is the day, which
years down the void abysm
To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure At the Earth-born's spell yawns for
compeers, Heaven's despotism,
And teach them thine own sorrow! Say: And Conquest is dragged captive
“With me through the deep:
Died Adonais; till the Future dares Love, from its awful throne of patient
Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall power
be In the wise heart, from the last giddy
An echo and a light unto eternity!” hour Of dead endurance, from the slippery,
Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay,
10 And narrow verge of crag-like agony,
When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft springs
which flies And folds over the world its healing wings.
In darkness? where was lorn Urania
When Adonais died? With veilèd eyes, Gentleness, Virtue, Wisdom, and Endur 'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise ance,
She sate, while one, with soft enamored These are the seals of that most firm breath,
10 Rekindled all the fading melodies, Which bars the pit over Destruction's With which, like flowers that mock the strength;
corse beneath, And if, with infirm hand, Eternity,
He had adorned and hid the coming bulk Mother of many acts and hours, should free of death. The serpent that would clasp her with his length;
Oh, weep for Adonais—he is dead! These are the spells by which to re-assume Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and An empire o'er the disentangled doom. 16 weep!
20 | Yet wherefore? Quench within their To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; burning bed To forgive wrongs darker than death or Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart night;
keep To defy Power, which seems omnipo- | Like his, a mute and uncomplaining tent;
For he is gone where all things wise and Died on the promise of the fruit, is fair
waste; Descend;—oh, dream not that the The broken lily lies—the storm is overpast. amorous Deep
25 Will yet restore him to the vital air; To that high Capital, where kingly Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs Death at our despair.
Keeps his pale court in beauty and
decay, Most musical of mourners, weep again! He came; and bought, with price of Lament anew, Urania !-He died,
purest breath, Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, A grave among the eternal.—Come Blind, old, and lonely, when his coun away! try's pride,
Haste, while the vault of blue Italian The priest, the slave, and the liberticide, day Trampled and mocked with many a Is yet his fitting charnel-roof! while loathèd rite
still Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified, He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay; Into the gulf of death; but his clear Awake him not! surely he takes his fill Sprite
35 Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill. Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.
He will awake no more, oh, never
more!Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Within the twilight chamber spreads Not all to that bright station dared to apace, climb;
The shadow of white Death, and at the And happier they their happiness who door knew,
Invisible Corruption waits to trace Whose tapers yet burn through that His extreme way to her dim dwellingnight of time
place; In which suns perished; others more The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe sublime,
Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to Struck by the envious wrath of man or deface
So fair a prey, till darkness, and the law Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent Of change, shall o'er his sleep the mortal prime;
curtain draw. And some yet live, treading the thorny road,
Oh, weep for Adonais!—The quick Which leads, through toil and hate, to Dreams, Fame's serene abode.
45 The passion-winged Ministers of
thought, But now, thy youngest, dearest one has Who were his flocks, whom near the perished,
living streams The nursling of thy widowhood, who Of his young spirit he fed, and whom grew,
he taught Like a pale flower by some sad maiden The love which was its music, wander cherished,
not, And fed with true love tears, instead Wander no more, from kindling brain of dew;
to brain, Most musical of mourners, weep anew! But droop there, whence they sprung; Thy extremel hope, the loveliest and and mourn their lot the last,
Round the cold heart, where, after The bloom, whose petals, nipped be their sweet pain,
80 fore they blew,
They ne'er will gather strength, or find
a home again.
And one with trembling hands clasps Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmerhis cold head,
ing Incarnations And fans him with her moonlight Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phanwings, and cries:
tasies; “Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, not dead;
And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by See, on the silken fringe of his faint the gleam eyes,
Of her own dying smile instead of eyes, Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there | Came in slow pomp;—the moving lies
pomp might seem
116 A tear some Dream has loosened from Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal his brain.”
stream. Lost Angel of a ruined Paradise! She knew not 'twas her own; as with All he had loved, and moulded into no stain
thought, She faded, like a cloud which had outwept From shape, and hue, and odor, and its rain.
Lamented Adonais. Morning sought One from a lucid urn of starry dew Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair Washed his light limbs as if embalming unbound, them;
Wet with the tears which should adorn Another clipped her profuse locks, and the ground, threw
Dimmed the aërial eyes that kindle day; The wreath upon him, like an anadem, Afar the melancholy thunder moaned; Which frozen tears instead of pearls Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay; 125 begem;
95 And the wild winds few round, sobbing in Another in her wilful grief would break their dismay. Her bow and wingèd reeds, as if to stem
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless A greater loss with one which was more mountains, weak;
And feeds her grief with his remembered And dull the barbèd fire against his lay, frozen cheek.
And will no more reply to winds or
fountains, Another Splendor on his mouth alit, 100 Or amorous birds perched on the young That mouth, whence it was wont to green spray,
130 draw the breath
Or herdsman's horn, or bell at closing Which gave it strength to pierce the
day; guarded wit,
Since she can mimic not bis lips, more And pass into the panting heart beneath dear With lightning and with music: the Than those for whose disdain she damp death
104 pined away Quenched its caress upon his icy lips; Into a shadow of all sounds:-a drear And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath Murmur, between their songs, is all the Of moonlight vapor, which the cold woodmen hear.
night clips, It flushed through his pale limbs, and Grief made the young Spring wild, and passed to its eclipse.
she threw down
Her kindling buds, as if she Autumn And others came . . . Desires and Ad were, orations,
Or they dead leaves; since her delight Winged Persuasions and veiled Desti is flown, nies,
For whom should she have waked the