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Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone, But grief returns with the revolving year;
155 The airs and streams renew their joy
ous tone; The ants, the bees, the swallows re
brake, And build their mossy homes in field and brere;1
160 And the green lizard, and the golden
snake, Like unimprisoned flames, out of their
Alas! that all we loved of him should be, But for our grief, as if it had not been, And grief itself be mortal! Woe is me! Whence are we, and why are we? of
what scene The actors or spectators? Great and
mean Meet massed in death, who lends what life must borrow.
186 As long as skies are blue, and fields are
green, Evening must usher night, night urge
the morrow, Month follow month with woe, and year
wake year to sorrow.
Through wood and stream and field and
hill and ocean A quickening life from the Earth's heart
has burst As it has ever done, with change and motion
165 From the great morning of the world
He will awake no more, oh, never more! “Wake thou,” cried Misery, “childless Mother, rise
191 Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart's
core, A wound more fierce than his with
tears and sighs.”
And all the Dreams that watched “Leave me not wild and drear and Urania's eyes,
comfortless, And all the Echoes whom their sister's As silent lightning leaves the starless song
195 night! Had held in holy silence, cried: Leave me not!” cried Urania: her dis“Arise!”
tress Swift as a Thought by the snake Roused Death: Death rose and smiled, Memory stung,
and met her vain caress.
225 From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendor sprung.
“Stay yet awhile! speak to me once
again; She rose like an autumnal Night, that Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may live; springs
And in my heartless breast and burnOut of the East, and follows wild and ing brain drear
200 That word, that kiss, shall all thoughts The golden Day, which, on eternal else survive, wings,
With food of saddest memory kept Even as a ghost abandoning a bier,
230 Had left the Earth a corpse. Sorrow Now thou art dead, as if it were a part and fear
Of thee, my Adonais! I would give So struck, so roused, so rapt Urania; All that I am to be as thou now art! So saddened round her like an atmos- | But I am chained to Time, and cannot phere
205 thence depart! Of stormy mist; so swept her on her way
"Oh gentle child, beautiful as thou Even to the mournful place where Adonais wert,
235 Why didst thou leave the trodden paths
of men Out of her secret Paradise she sped, Too soon, and with weak hands though Through camps and cities rough with mighty heart stone, and steel,
Dare the unpastured dragon in his den? And human hearts, which to her aëry Defenceless as thou wert, oh where tread
210 was then Yielding not, wounded the invisible Wisdom the mirrored shield, or scorn Palms of her tender feet where'er they the spear?
Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, And barbèd tongues, and thoughts more when sharp than they,
Thy spirit should have filled its crescent Rent the soft Form they never could sphere, repel,
The monsters of life's waste had fled from Whose sacred blood, like the young thee like deer. tears of May,
215 Paved with eternal flowers that unde “The herded wolves, bold only to purserving way.
The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the In the death chamber for a moment dead;
The vultures to the conqueror's banner Shamed by the presence of that living true, Might,
Who feed where Desolation first has Blushed to annihilation, and the breath
fed, Revisited those lips, and life's pale And whose wings rain contagion;-how light
220 they fled, Flashed through those limbs, so late When like Apollo, from his golden bow, her dear delight.
The Pythian of the age one arrow sped
And smiled!—The spoilers tempt no
second blow; They fawn on the proud feet that spurn
them lying low.
“The sun comes forth, and many rep
tiles spawn; He sets, and each ephemeral insect
then Is gathered into death without a dawn,
255 And the immortal stars awake again; So is it in the world of living men: A godlike mind soars forth, in its de
light Making earth bare and veiling heaven,
and when It sinks, the swarms that dimmed or shared its light
260 Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit's
A pardlikel Spirit beautiful and swiftA Love in desolation masked; Power
281 Girt round with weakness ;-it can
scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent
hour; It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow;—even whilst we speak
285 Is it not broken? On the withering
flower The killing sun smiles brightly; on a
cheek The life can burn in blood, even while the
heart may break.
Thus ceased she: and the mountain
shepherds came, Their garlands sere, their magic man
tles rent; The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like Heaven is bent,
265 An early but enduring monument, Came, veiling all the lightnings of his
song In sorrow; from her wilds Ierne sent The sweetest lyrist of her saddest
wrong, And love taught grief to fall like music from his tongue.
His head was bound with pansies over
blown, And faded violets, white, and pied, and
blue; And a light spear topped with a cypress
cone, Round whose rude shaft dark ivy tresses
grew Yet dripping with the forest's noonday
dew, Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew
295 He came the last, neglected and apart; A herd-abandoned deer, struck by the
Midst others of less note, came one
frail Form, A phantom among men, companion
less As the last cloud of an expiring storm Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I
guess, Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness,
275 Actæon-like, and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's
wilderness, And his own thoughts, along that rug
ged way, Pursued, like raging hounds, their father
and their prey.
All stood aloof, and at his partial moan Smiled through their tears; well knew that gentle band
200 Who in another's fate now wept his own; As, in the accents of an unknown land, He sung new sorrow; sad Urania scanned The Stranger's mien, and murmured:
“Who art thou?" He answered not, but with a sudden
hand Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow,
- 305 Which was like Cain's or Christ's-Oh!
that it should be so!
What softer voice is hushed over the
dead? Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown?
What form leans sadly o'er the white Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit death-bed,
shall flow In mockery of monumental stone, 310 Back to the burning fountain whence The heavy heart heaving without a it came, moan?
A portion of the Eternal, which must If it be He, who, gentlest of the wise,
1 340 Taught, soothed, loved, honored the Through time and change, unquenchdeparted one,
ably the same, Let me not vex with inharmonious Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid sighs
hearth of shame. The silence of that heart's accepted sacrifice.
315 | Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth
not sleep Our Adonais has drunk poison-oh! He hath awakened from the dream of What deaf and viperous murderer could life crown
'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, Life's early cup with such a draught of keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife, The nameless worm would now itself And in mad trance strike with our disown:
spirit's knife It felt, yet could escape the magic tone Invulnerable nothings. We decay Whose prelude held all envy, hate, and Like corpses in a charnel; fear and wrong,
grief But what was howling in one breast Convulse us and consume us day by alone,
350 Silent with expectation of the song, And cold hopes swarm like worms within Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver our living clay lyre unstrung.
He has outsoared the shadow of our Live thou, whose infamy is not thy night; fame!
325 Envy and calumny and hate and pain, Live! fear no heavier chastisement from And that unrest which men miscall deme,
light, Thou noteless blot on a remembered Can touch him not and torture not name!
355 But be thyself, and know thyself to From the contagion of the world's slow be!
stain And ever at thy season be thou free He is secure, and now can never mourn To spill the venom when thy fangs o'er A heart grown cold, a head grown grey flow:
in vain; Remorse and Self-contempt shall cling Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to thee;
to burn, Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret With sparkless ashes load an unlamented brow,
urn. And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt-as now.
He lives, he wakes—’tis Death is dead,
not he; Nor let us weep that our delight is fled Mourn not for Adonais.—Thou young Far from these carrion kites that scream Dawn, below;
Turn all thy dew to splendor, for from He wakes or sleeps with the enduring thee dead;
The spirit thou lamentest is not gone; Thou canst not soar where he is sitting Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to now.
Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains, Lifts a young heart above its mortal and thou Air,
lair, Which like a mourning veil thy scarf And love and life contend in it, for what hadst thrown
Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live O'er the abandoned Earth, now leave there
395 it bare
And move like winds of light on dark and Even to the joyous stars which smile on stormy air. its despair!
The inheritors of unfulfilled renown He is made one with Nature: there is Rose from their thrones, built beyond heard
370 mortal thought, His voice in all her music, from the Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton moan
Rose pale, his solemn agony had not 400 Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he bird;
fought He is a presence to be felt and known And as he fell and as he lived and loved, In darkness and in light, from herb and Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot, stone,
Arose; and Lucan, by his death apSpreading itself where'er that Power proved: may move
375 Oblivion, as they rose, shrank like a thing Which has withdrawn his being to its reproved.
405 own; Which wields the world with never And many more, whose names on Earth wearied love,
are dark, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it But whose transmitted effluence cannot above.
So long as fire outlives the parent spark, He is a portion of the loveliness
Rose, robed in dazzling immortality. Which once he made more lovely: he “Thou art become as one of us,” they doth bear
410 His part, while the one Spirit's plastic "It was for thee yon kingless sphere has stress
long Sweeps through the dull dense world, Swung blind in unascended majesty, compelling there
Silent alone amid an Heaven of Song. All new successions to the forms they | Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper wear;
of our throng!” Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight
Who mourns for Adonais? Oh come To its own likeness, as each mass may forth, bear;
385 Fond wretch! and know thyself and And bursting in its beauty and its him aright. might
Clasp with thy panting soul the penFrom trees and beasts and men into the dulous Earth; Heaven's light.
As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light
Beyond all worlds, until its spacious The splendors of the firmament of time might May be eclipsed, but are extinguished Satiate the void circumference: then
420 Like stars to their appointed height Even to a point within our day and they climb,
390 night; And death is a low mist which cannot And keep thy heart light, lest it make blot
thee sink, The brightness it may veil. When When hope has kindled hope, and lured lofty thought
thee to the brink.