60 Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music I know not how thy joy we ever should doth surpass: Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine 65 That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! 70 75 80 85 90 95 100 Teach me half the gladness From my lips would flow, 105 The world should listen then, as I am listening now. O, weep for Adonais! though our tears Where wert thou mighty Mother, when he lay, When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies 12 In darkness? where was lorn Urania 16 When Adonais died? With veiled eyes, 'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath, With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, O, weep for Adonais he is dead! 20 Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep! 24 28 82 Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed in beans For he is gone, where all things wise and fair Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair. Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride, Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite Into the gulf of death; but his clear sprite 36 Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light. love 40 44 48 52 56 60 64 68 Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Not all to that bright station dared to climb; Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time But now, thy youngest, dearest one has perished, The bloom, whose petals nipt before they blew To that high Capital, where kingly Death Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay, He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay; He will awake no more, oh, never more! Within the twilight chamber spreads apace, His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place; Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface 72 Of change shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw. 76 80 O, weep for Adonais! The quick Dreams, The passion-winged Ministers of thought, Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain, But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn their lot Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain, They ne'er will gather strength, or find a home again. 84 88 92 96 100 104 And one with trembling hands clasps his cold head, A tear some Dream has loosened from his brain.' She knew not 'twas her own; as with no stain One from a lucid urn of starry dew Washed his light limbs as if embalming them; Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem Another Splendour on his mouth alit, That mouth, whence it was wont to draw the breath And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, 108 It flushed through his pale limbs, and past to its eclipse. 112 116 120 124 And others came Desires and Adorations, Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam All he had loved, and moulded into thought, Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound, Afar the melancholy thunder moaned, Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay, And the wild winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay. 128 132 136 140 Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains, Grief made the young Spring wild, and she threw down For whom should she have waked the sullen year? Nor to himself Narcissus, as to both Thou Adonais: wan they stand and sere 144 With dew all turned to tears; odour, to sighing ruth. 148 152 Thy spirit's sister, the lorn nightingale Mourns not her mate with such melodious pain; Heaven, and could nourish in the sun's domain As Albion wails for thee: the curse of Cain |