In murmurs, which his first-endeavoring tongue

Caught infant-like from the far-foamèd sands.

"O ye, whom wrath consumes! who passion-stung,

Writhe at defeat, and nurse your agonies!
Shut up your senses, stifle up your ears: 175
My voice is not a bellows unto ire.
Yet listen, ye who will, whilst I bring
proof

How ye, perforce, must be content to stoop;

And in the proof much comfort will I give,

If ye will take that comfort in its truth.

180

I threw my shell away upon the sand, And a wave filled it, as my sense was filled

With that new blissful golden melody. 280 A living death was in each gush of sounds, Each family of rapturous hurried notes, That fell, one after one, yet all at once, Like pearl beads dropping sudden from their string:

And then another, then another strain, 285 Each like a dove leaving its olive perch, With music winged instead of silent plumes,

To hover round my head, and make me sick

Of joy and grief at once. Grief over

“Or shall we listen to the over-wise,
Or to the over-foolish, giant Gods? 310
Not thunderbolt on thunderbolt, till all
That rebel Jove's whole armory were

spent,

Not world on world upon these shoulders piled,

Could agonize me more than baby-words In midst of this dethronement horrible. 315 Speak! roar! shout! yell! ye sleepy Titans all!

Do ye forget the blows, the buffets vile? Are ye not smitten by a youngling arm? Dost thou forget, sham Monarch of the Waves,

Thy scalding in the seas? What, have I roused

320

Your spleens with so few simple words as these?

O joy! for now I see ye are not lost: O joy! for now I see a thousand eyes Wide glaring for revenge!" - As this he said, He lifted stood, Still without intermission speaking thus:

up his stature vast, and

325

waves,

40

10

harp, And not a wind of heaven but will breathe In aid soft warble from the Dorian flute; For lo! 'tis for the Father of all verse. Flush every thing that hath a vermeil hue:

Let the rose glow intense and warm the air;

15

30

Or I have dreamed."

60