« 前へ次へ »
Seas, mountains, and the horizon's verge | Are all thy dealings, but in this they pass
The limits of man's common malice, for Which shut him from the sole small spot All that a citizen could be I was;
Raised by thy will,all thine in peace or war, Where – whatsoe'or his fate – he still And for this thou hast warr'd with me.were hers,
T'is done : His country's, and might die where he had I
may not overleap the eternal bar birth
Built up between us, and will die alone, Florence! when this lone spirit shall return Beholding, with the dark eye of a seer, To kindred spirits, thou wilt feel my The evil days to gifted souls foreshown,
Foretelling them to those who will not hear, And seek to honour with an empty urn As in the old time, till the hour be come
The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtain.--Alas! When Truth shall strike their eyes * What have I done to thee, my people?”
through many a tear, Stern
And make them ovn the Prophet in his tomb.
THE DR E A M.
Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own | But a inost living landscape, and the wavo
Of woods and corn-fields, and the abodes A boundary between the things misnamed
of men Death and existence: Sleep hath its own Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke
Arising from such rustic roofs; – the hill And a wide realm of wild reality;
Was crown'd with a peculiar diadem And dreams in their development have of trees, in circular array, so fix'd,
Not by the sport of nature, but of man: And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; These two, a maiden and a youth, were there They leave a weight upon our waking Gazing--the one on all that was beneath
Fair as herself, but the boy gazed on her; They take a weight from offour waking toils, And both were young and one was beautiful: They do divide our being; they become And both were young – yet not alike in A portion of ourselves as of our time,
youth. And look like heralds of eternity;
As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge They pass like spirits of the past ,- they The maid was on the eve of womanhood;
The boy had fewer summers, but his heart Like sibyls of the future; they have power, Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye The tyranny of pleasure and of pain ; There was but one beloved face on earth, They make us what we were not, what And that was shining on him ; he had look'd
they will, Upon it till it could not pass away; And shake us with the vision that's gone by, He had no breath, no being, but in hers, The dread of vanish'd shadows_Are they so? She was his voice; he did not speak to her, Is not the past all shadow? What are they? But trembled on her words; she was his Creation of the mind ?-_The mind can make
sight, Substance, and people planets of its own for his eye follow'd hers, and saw with hers, With beings brighter than have been, and which colour'd all his objects :-ho had give
ceased A breath to forms which can outlive all Nesh. To live within himself; she was his life, I would recal a vision which I dream'd The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Perchance in sleep-for in itself a thought, Which terminated all: upon a tone, A slumbering thought, is capable of years, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and And curdles a long life into one hour.
flow, And his cheek change tempestuously-his
heart I saw two beings in the hues of youth Unknowing of its cause of agony. Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill, But she in these fond feelings had no share : Green and of mild declivity, the last Her siglis were not for him; to her he was As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such, Even as a brother but no more; 'twas much, Save that there was no sea to lave its basc, For brotherless she was, save in the naine
Her infant-friendship had hestow'd on him; Reposing from the noon-tide sultriness, Herself the solitary scion left
Couch'd among fallen columns, in the shade Of a time-honour'd race.--It was a name of ruin'd walls that had survived the names Which pleased him, and yet pleased him of those who reard them; by his sleeping not- and why?
side Time taught him a deep answer when Stood camels grazing, and some goodly she loved
steeds Another; even now she loved another, Were fasten'd near a fountain ; and a man And on the summit of that hill she stood Clad in a flowing garb did watch the while, Looking afar if yet her lover's steed While many of his tribe slumber'd around: Kept pace with her expectancy, and flew. And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone was to be seen in Heaven. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. There was an ancient mansion, and before Its walls there was a steed caparison's : A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. Within an antique Oratory stood
The Lady of his love was wed with One The Bay of whom I spake ;– he was alone Who did not love her better:- in her home And pale, and pacing to and fro; anon A thousand leagues from his,- her native He sate him down, and seized a pen, and
She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy, Words which I could not guess of; then Daughters and sons of Beauty,- but behold!
Upon her face there was the tint of grief, His bow'd head on his hands, and shook as The settled shadow of an inward strife,
And an unquiet drooping of the eye With a convulsion-then arose again, As if its lid were charged with unshed tear And with his teeth and quivering hands What could her grief be? - she had all she did tear
loved, What he had written, but he shed no tears, And he who had so loved her was not there And he did calm himself, and fix his brow To trouble with bad hopes, or evil wish, Into a kind of quiet; as he paused, Or ill-repress'd affliction, her pare thoughts. The Lady of his love re-entered there ; What could her grief be? - she had loved She was serene and smiling then, and yet
him not, She knew she was by him beloved , -- she Nor given him cause to deem himself knew,
beloved, For quickly comes such knowledge, that Nor could he be a part of that which prey'd
Upon her mind -a spectre of the pasi. Was darken'd with her shadow, and she saw That he was wretched, but she saw not all. He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. He took her hand ; a moment o'er his face The Wanderer was return'd.-I saw him A tablet of unutterable thoughts
stand Was traced, and then it faded, as it came; Before an Altar-with a gentle bride; He dropped the hand he held, and with Her face was fair, but was not that which slow steps
made Retired, but not as bidding her adieu, The Starlight of his Boyhood ;-as he stood For they did part with mutual smiles : he Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came
The selfsame aspect, and the quivering shock From out the massy gate of that old Hall, That in the antique Oratory shook And mounting on his steed he went his way; His bosom in its solitude; and then And ne'er repass'd that hoary threshold more. As in that hour- a moment o'er his face
The tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced, and then it faded, as it came, A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the The fitting vows, but heard not his owa wilds
words, Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And all things reeld around him; he And his soul drank their sunbeams; he was
could see girt
Not that which was, nor that which should With strange and dusky aspects; he was not
have been Himself like what he had been; on the sea Bat the old mansion,and the accustom'd hall, And on the shore he was a wanderer; And the remember'd chambers and the place, There was a mass of many images The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the Crowded like waves upon me, but he was
shade, A part of all; and in the last he lay All things pertaining to that place and bour,
And her who was his destiny, came back | The beings which surrounded him weregone, And thrust themselves between him and the Or were at war with him; he was a mark
For blight and desolation, compass'd round What business had they there at such a time? With Hatred and Contention ; Pain was mix'd
In all which was served up to him, until A change came n'er the spirit of my dream. Like to the Pontic monarch of old days, The Lady of his love;-Oh! she was changed He fed on poisons, and they had no power, As by the sickness of the soul; her mind
But were a kind of nutriment; he lived Had wander'd from its dwelling and her eyes Through that which had been death to They had not their own lustre, but the look
many men, Which is not of the earth ; she was become And made him friends of mountains: with The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts
the stars Were combinations of disjointed things;
And the quick Spirit of the Universe And forms impalpable and unperceived
He held his dialogues; and they did teach of others' sight familiar were to hers.
To him the magic of their mysteries ; And this the world calls phrensy; but the To him the book of Night was opend wide,
And voices from the deep abyss reveal'd Have a far deeper madness, and the glance A marvel and a secret—Be ii so. of melancholy is a fearful gift; What is it but the telescope of truth?
My dream was past; it had no further Which strips the distance of its phantasics,
It was of a strange order, that the doom
D A R K N E S S.
L and a dream, which was not all a dream. Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and soine Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
did rest Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Their chins upon their clenched hands, and Swung blind and blackening in the moon
smiled; less air;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed Morn came, and went - and came, and Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
brought no day, With mad disquietude on the dull sky, And men forgot their passions in the dread The pall of a past world; and then again Of this their desolation ; and all hearts With curses cast them down upon the dust, Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light: And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild And they did live hy watchfires, and the
birds shriek’d, thrones,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, The palaces of crowned kings--the huts, And flap their useless wings; the wildest The habitations of all things which dwell,
brutes Were burnt for beacons; cities were con- Came tame and tremulous; and vipers sumed,
crawl'd And men were gathered round their blazing And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless -- they were slain for To look once more into each other's face;
food: Happy were those who dwelt within the cye And War, which for a moment was no or the volcanos and their mountain-torch :
more, A fearful hope was all the world contain'd; Did glut himself again; a meal was bought Forests were set on fire - but hour by hour with blood, and each sate sullenly apart They fell and faded - and the crackling Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All carth was but one thought - and that Extingnish'd with a crash-and all was
was death, black.
Lumediate and inglorious; and the pang The brows of men by the despairing light lof famine fed upon all entrails ; mca
Died, and their bones were tombless as their | Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek d, The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
and diedEven dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, Even of their mutual hideousness they died, And he was faithful to a corse and kept Unknowing who he was upon whose brow The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, Famine had written Fiend. The world was Till hungerclung them,or the dropping dead
void, Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless,manless, lifeless, But with a piteous and perpetual moan A lamp of death-a chaos of hard clay. And a qnick desolate cry licking the hand The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, Which answered not with a caress - he died. And nothing stirred within their silent The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
depths; Of an enormous city did survive,
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And they were enemies; they met beside And their masts fell down piecemeal; as The dying embers of an altar-place
they droppid Where had been heap'd a mass of holy They slept on the abyss without a surge
The waves were dead; the tides were in For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold sko The moon their mistress had expired before;
leton-hands The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, Tho feeble ashes, and their feeble breath And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no Blew for a little life, and made a flame
need Which was a mockery; then they lifted up of aid from them -- She was the universe.
PR O M E T H E U S.
TITAN! to whose immortal eyes
| And in thy Silence was his Sentence, The sufferings of mortality,
And in his Soul a vain repentance, Seen in their sad reality,
And evil dread so ill dissembled Were not as things that gods despise ; That in his hand the lightnings trembled What was thy pity's recompense ? A silent suffering, and intense ;
Thy godlike crime was to be kind, The rock, the vulture, and the chain, To render with thy precepts less All that the proud can feel of pain,
The sum of human wretchedness, The agony they do not show,
And strengthen Man with his own mind; The suffocating sense of woe,
But baffled as thou wert from high,
In the endurance, and repulse
Which Earth and Heaven could not con
vulse, Titan! to thee the strife was given
A mighty lesson we inherit: Between the suffering and the will, Thou art a symbol and a sign
Which torture where they cannot kill; To Mortals of their fate and force; And the inexorable Heaven,
Like thee, Man is in part divine, And the deaf tyranny of Fate,
A troubled stream from a pure sou ree, The ruling principle of Hate,
And Man in portions can foresee Which for its pleasure doth create
His own funereal destiny; The things it may annihilate,
His wretchedness, and his resistance, Refused thee even the boon to die:
And his sad unallied existence:
To which his Spirit may oppose
Its own concentred recompense,
A FACT LITERALLY BENDERED.
I stood beside the grave of him who were it not that all life must end in one,
Of which we are but dreamers ;-- as he The comet of a season, and I saw
caught The humblest of all sepulchres, and gazed As 'twere the twilight of a former Sun, With not the less of sorrow and of awe Thus spoko he: I believe the man of On that neglected turf and quiet stone,
whom With name no clearer than the names You wot, who lies in this selected tomb,
Was a most famous writer in his day, Which lay unread around it; and I ask'd And therefore travellers step from out their TheGardener of that ground, why it might be
way That for this plant strangers his memory To pay him honour,-- and myself whate'cr
Your honour pleases,” - then most pleased Through the thick deaths of half a century;
Some certain coins of silver, which as Why frequent travellers turn to pilgrimsso;
'twere He died before my day of Sextonship, Perforce I gave this man, though I could And I had not the digging of this grave."
spare And is this all ? I thought,--and do we rip So much but inconveniently ;-Ye smile, The veil of Immortality ? and crave I see ye, ye profane ones! all the while, I know not what of honour and of light Because my homely phrase the truth would Through unborn ages, to endure this blight?
tell. So soon and so successless? As I said, You are the fools, not I-- for I did dwell The Architect of all on which we tread, With a deep thought, and with a softFor Earth is but a tombstone, did essay To extricate remembrance from the clay, On that Old Sexton's natural homily, Whose minglings might confuse a Newton's In which there was Obscurity and Fame,
The Glory and the Nothing of a Name.
M O N O D Y
DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. R. B. SHERIDAN.
When the last sunshine of expiring day | A holy concord—and a bright regret, In summer's twilight weeps itself away, A glorious sympathy with suns that set? Who hath not felt the softness of the hour Tis not harsh sorrow—but a tenderer woe, Sink on the heart, as dew along the flower? Nameless, but dear to gentle hearts below, With a pure feeling which absorbs and awes Felt without bitterness - but full and clear, While Nature makes that melancholy pause, A sweet dejection-a transparent tear Her breathing-moment on the bridge where Unmix'd with worldly grief or selfish stain,
Shed without shame- and secret without Oflight and darkness forms an arch sublime;
pain. Who hath not shared that calm so still and Even as the tenderness that hour instils
When Summer's day declines along the hills, The voiceless thought which would not So feels the fulness of our heart and eyes
speak but weep, When all of Genius which can perish dies.