The world should listen then, as I am listening now. With his trident the mountains strook, And opened a chasm In the rocks; - with the spasm All Erymanthus shook. And the black south wind It concealed behind The urns of the silent snow, And earthquake and thunder The bars of the springs below. Seen through the torrent's sweep, "Oh, save me! Oh, guide me! For he grasps me now by the hair!" To its blue depth stirred, And divided at her prayer: The Earth's white daughter Fled like a sunny beam; Behind her descended Her billows, unblended With the brackish Dorian stream; Down the streams of the cloudy wind. Under the bowers Where the Ocean Powers Sit on their pearlèd thrones, Which amid the streams Weave a network of colored light; Where the shadowy waves Are as green as the forest's night; And the sword-fish dark, Under the ocean foam, And up through the rifts Of the mountain clifts, They past to their Dorian home. And now from their fountains In Enna's mountains, Down one vale where the morning basks, Like friends once parted Grown single-hearted, They ply their watery tasks. At sunrise they leap From their cradles steep SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Out of the misty eastern cave, Where all the long and lone daylight Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Thy brother Death came, and cried, Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Shall I nestle near thy side? No, not thee! Death will come when thou art dead, Sleep will come when thou art fled: Of neither would I ask the boon CHORUS OF FURIES. (From "Prometheus Unbound. ") FROM the ends of the earth, from the ends of the earth, O ye who shake hills with the scream of your mirth, Leave the bed, low, cold, and red, Leave the hatred, as in ashes Fire is left for future burning: Come, come, come! We are steaming up from Hell's wide gate, VOICE IN THE AIR. LIFE of Life! thy lips enkindle With their love the breath between them; And thy smiles before they dwindle Make the cold air fire: then screen them In those looks, where whoso gazes Faints, entangled in their mazes. Child of Light! thy limbs are burning Through the vest which seems to hide them : As the radiant lines of morning Through the clouds ere they divide them; VOL. XVII. - 25 And this atmosphere divinest Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest. Fair are others: none beholds thee, Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing! ASIA. My soul is an enchanted boat, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. Till, like one in slumber bound, Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions Without a course, without a star, But by the instinct of sweet music driven; Which in the winds and on the waves doth move, Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above. |