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Where are the songs of Spring? Ay,

where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music

too, While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying

· day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy

hue: Then in a wailful choir the small gnats

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TO AUTUMN

(1819)

mourn

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I Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom friend of the maturing sun! Conspiring with him how to load and

bless With fruit the vines that round the

thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the mossed cottagetrees,

5 And fill all fruit with ripeness to the

core; To swell the gourd, and plump the

hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the

bees, Until they think warm days will never

cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their

clammy cells!

Among the river sallows, borne aloft, Or sinking, as the light wind lives or

dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from

hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and

treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden

croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the

skies.

now with

HYPERION

A FRAGMENT

(1818-19)

10

II

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy

store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may

find

BOOK FIRST Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of

morn, Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one

star, Sat gray-haired Saturn, quiet as a stone,

rear

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Still as the silence round about his lair. 5 How beautiful, if sorrow had not made 35 Forest on forest hung about his head Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self. Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was There was a listening fear in her regard, there

As if calamity had but begun: Not so much life as on a summer's day As if the vanward clouds of evil days Robs not one light seed from the feathered Had spent their malice, and the sullen

grass; But where the dead leaf fell, there did it Was with its stored thunder laboring up. rest.

One hand she pressed upon that aching A stream went voiceless by, — still dead

spot ened more

Where beats the human heart, as if just By reason of his fallen divinity

there, Spreading a shade: the naiad 'mid her Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain: reeds

The other upon Saturn's bended neck Pressed her cold finger closer to her lips. She laid, and to the level of his ear

Leaning with parted lips, some words she Along the margin-sand large footmarks

spake went,

15 In solemn tenor and deep organ tone: No further than to where his feet had Some mourning words, which in our feeble strayed,

tongue And slept there since. Upon the sodden Would come in these like accents -0 ground

how frail His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, To that large utterance of the early gods!

dead, Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were "Saturn, look up! — though wherefore, closed;

poor old King? While his bowed head seemed list'ning to I have no comfort for thee, no not one: the Earth,

I cannot say, "O wherefore sleepest His ancient mother, for some comfort yet.

thou?”

For heaven is parted from thee, and the It seemed no force could wake him from

earth his place;

Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for But there came one, who with a kindred

god; hand

And ocean too, with all its solemn noise, Touched his wide shoulders, after bending Has from thy sceptre passed; and all the low

air With reverence, though to one who knew Is emptied of thine hoary majesty.

Thy thunder, conscious of the new comShe was a goddess of the infant world;

mand, By her in stature the tall Amazon

Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house; Had stood a pigmy's height: she would And thy sharp lightning, in unpractised have ta'en

hands, Achilles by the hair and bent his neck, Scorches and burns Or with a finger stayed Ixion's wheel.

domain. Her face was large as that of Memphian O aching time! O moments big as years! sphinx,

All as ye pass swell out the monstrous Pedestalled haply in a palace court,

truth, When sages looked to Egypt for their lore. And press it so upon our weary griefs But oh! how unlike marble was that face: That unbelief has not a space to breathe.

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Saturn, sleep on - 0 thoughtless, why Look up, and tell me if this feeble shape did I

Is Saturn's; tell me if thou hear'st the Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?

voice Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes? 70 Of Saturn; tell me if this wrinkling Saturn, sleep on! while at thy feet I brow, weep."

Naked and bare of its great diadem,
Peers like the front of Saturn. Who had

power As when, upon a trancèd summer-night,

To make me desolate? whence came the Those green-robed senators of mighty

strength? woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest

How was it nurtured to such bursting

forth, stars,

While Fate seemed strangled in my nervDream, and so dream all night without

ous grasp? a stir,

But it is so; and I am smothered up, Save from one gradual solitary gust

And buried from all godlike exercise Which comes upon the silence, and dies

Of influence benign on planets pale, off,

Of admonitions to the winds and seas, As if the ebbing air had but one wave:

Of peaceful sway above man's harvestSo came these words and went, the

ing, while in tears

And all those acts which deity supreme She touched her fair large forehead to

Doth ease its heart of love in. the ground,

gone Just where her falling hair might be out

Away from my own bosom: I have left spread

My strong identity, my real self, A soft and silken mat for Saturn's feet.

Somewhere between the throne and where One moon, with alteration slow, had shed

I sit Her silver seasons four upon the night,

Here on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, And still these two were postured motion

search! less,

Open thine eyes eterne, and sphere them Like natural sculpture in cathedral cav

round ern,

Upon all space: space starred, and lorn The frozen God still couchant on the

of light; earth,

And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet: Space regioned with life-air; and barren

void ; Until at length old Saturn lifted up

Spaces of fire, and all the yawn of His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom

hell. gone, And all the gloom and sorrow of the

Search, Thea, search! and tell me if thou place,

A certain shape or shadow, making way And that fair kneeling goddess; and then

With wings or chariot fierce to repossess spake,

A heaven he lost erewhile: it must it As with a palsied tongue, and while his beard

Be of ripe progress

Saturn must be Shook horrid with such aspen-malady:

King.

Yes, there must be a golden victory: "O tender spouse of gold Hyperion, 95 There must be gods thrown down, and Thea, I feel thee ere I see thy face;

trumpets blown Look up, and let me see our doom in it. Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival

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seest

must

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Upon the gold clouds metropolitan,
Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir 130
Of strings in hollow shells; and there

shall be Beautiful things made new, for the sur

prise Of the sky-children: I will give com

mandThea! Thea! Thea! where is Saturn?”

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170

Meanwhile in other realms big tears

were shed, More sorrow like to this, and such like

woe, Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of

scribe: The Titans fierce, self-hid, or prison

bound, Groaned for the old allegiance once more, And listened in sharp pain for Saturn's

voice. But one of the whole mammoth-brood still

kept His sov'reignty, and rule, and majesty: 165 Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire Still sat, still snuffed the incense teeming

up From man to the sun's God; yet unsecure. For as among us mortals omens drear Fright and perplex, so also shuddered

he Not at dog's howl, or gloom-bird's hated

screech, Or the familiar visiting of one Upon the first toll of his passing-bell, Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp; But horrors portioned to a giant nerve, 175 Oft made Hyperion ache. His palace

bright, Bastioned with pyramids of glowing gold, And touched with shade of bronzed

obelisks, Glared a blood-red through all its thou

sand courts, Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries ; 180 And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds Flushed angerly: while sometimes eagle's

wings, Unseen before by gods or wondering men, Darkened the place; and neighing steeds

were heard, Not heard before by gods or wondering

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This passion lifted him upon his feet, 135 And made his hands to struggle in the

air, His Druid locks to shake and ooze with

sweat, His eyes to fever out, his voice to cease. He stood, and heard not Thea's sobbing

deep. A little time, and then again he

snatched Utterance thus: “But cannot I create? Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth Another world, another universe, To overbear and crumble this to nought? Where is another chaos? Where?"

That word Found way unto Olympus, and made

quake The rebel three. Thea was startled up, And in her bearing was a sort of hope, As thus she quick-voiced spake, yet full

of awe: “This cheers our fallen house: come to

our friends, 0 Saturn! come away, and give them

heart; I know the covert, for thence came I

hither." Thus brief; then with beseeching eyes she

went With backward footing through the shade

a space: He followed, and she turned to lead the

way Through agèd boughs, that yielded like

the mist Which eagles cleave upmounting from their

nest.

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155

Also, when he would taste the spicy

wreaths Of incense, breathed aloft from sacred

hills, Instead of sweets his ample palate took Savor of poisonous brass and metal sick.

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