Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  XLI

  ‘‘T was like an eye which seemed to smile on me.

  I watched, till by the sun made pale it sank

  Under the billows of the heaving sea;

  But from its beams deep love my spirit drank,

  And to my brain the boundless world now shrank

  Into one thought — one image — yes, forever!

  Even like the dayspring, poured on vapors dank,

  The beams of that one Star did shoot and quiver

  Through my benighted mind — and were extinguished never.

  XLII

  ‘The day passed thus. At night, methought, in dream

  A shape of speechless beauty did appear;

  It stood like light on a careering stream

  Of golden clouds which shook the atmosphere;

  A wingèd youth, his radiant brow did wear

  The Morning Star; a wild dissolving bliss

  Over my frame he breathed, approaching near,

  And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness

  Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss,

  XLIII

  ‘And said: “A Spirit loves thee, mortal maiden;

  How wilt thou prove thy worth?” Then joy and sleep

  Together fled; my soul was deeply laden,

  And to the shore I went to muse and weep;

  But as I moved, over my heart did creep

  A joy less soft, but more profound and strong

  Than my sweet dream; and it forbade to keep

  The path of the sea-shore; that Spirit’s tongue

  Seemed whispering in my heart, and bore my steps along.

  XLIV

  ‘How, to that vast and peopled city led,

  Which was a field of holy warfare then,

  I walked among the dying and the dead,

  And shared in fearless deeds with evil men,

  Calm as an angel in the dragon’s den;

  How I braved death for liberty and truth,

  And spurned at peace, and power, and fame; and when

  Those hopes had lost the glory of their youth,

  How sadly I returned — might move the hearer’s ruth.

  XLV

  ‘Warm tears throng fast! the tale may not be said.

  Know then that, when this grief had been subdued,

  I was not left, like others, cold and dead;

  The Spirit whom I loved in solitude

  Sustained his child; the tempest-shaken wood,

  The waves, the fountains, and the hush of night —

  These were his voice, and well I understood

  His smile divine, when the calm sea was bright

  With silent stars, and Heaven was breathless with delight.

  XLVI

  ‘In lonely glens, amid the roar of rivers,

  When the dim nights were moonless, have I known

  Joys which no tongue can tell; my pale lip quivers

  When thought revisits them: — know thou alone,

  That, after many wondrous years were flown,

  I was awakened by a shriek of woe;

  And over me a mystic robe was thrown

  By viewless hands, and a bright Star did glow

  Before my steps — the Snake then met his mortal foe.’

  XLVII

  ‘Thou fearest not then the Serpent on thy heart?’

  ‘Fear it!’ she said, with brief and passionate cry,

  And spake no more. That silence made me start —

  I looked, and we were sailing pleasantly,

  Swift as a cloud between the sea and sky,

  Beneath the rising moon seen far away,

  Mountains of ice, like sapphire, piled on high,

  Hemming the horizon round, in silence lay

  On the still waters — these we did approach alway.

  XLVIII

  And swift and swifter grew the vessel’s motion,

  So that a dizzy trance fell on my brain, —

  Wild music woke me; we had passed the ocean

  Which girds the pole, Nature’s remotest reign;

  And we glode fast o’er a pellucid plain

  Of waters, azure with the noontide day.

  Ethereal mountains shone around; a Fane

  Stood in the midst, girt by green isles which lay

  On the blue sunny deep, resplendent far away.

  XLIX

  It was a Temple, such as mortal hand

  Has never built, nor ecstasy, nor dream

  Reared in the cities of enchanted land;

  ‘T was likest Heaven, ere yet day’s purple stream

  Ebbs o’er the western forest, while the gleam

  Of the unrisen moon among the clouds

  Is gathering — when with many a golden beam

  The thronging constellations rush in crowds,

  Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal floods.

  L

  Like what may be conceived of this vast dome,

  When from the depths which thought can seldom pierce

  Genius beholds it rise, his native home,

  Girt by the deserts of the Universe;

  Yet, nor in painting’s light, or mightier verse,

  Or sculpture’s marble language can invest

  That shape to mortal sense — such glooms immerse

  That incommunicable sight, and rest

  Upon the laboring brain and over-burdened breast.

  LI

  Winding among the lawny islands fair,

  Whose blosmy forests starred the shadowy deep,

  The wingless boat paused where an ivory stair

  Its fretwork in the crystal sea did steep,

  Encircling that vast Fane’s aërial heap.

  We disembarked, and through a portal wide

  We passed, whose roof of moonstone carved did keep

  A glimmering o’er the forms on every side,

  Sculptures like life and thought, immovable, deep-eyed.

  LII

  We came to a vast hall, whose glorious roof

  Was diamond which had drunk the lightning’s sheen

  In darkness and now poured it through the woof

  Of spell-inwoven clouds hung there to screen

  Its blinding splendor — through such veil was seen

  That work of subtlest power, divine and rare;

  Orb above orb, with starry shapes between,

  And hornèd moons, and meteors strange and fair,

  On night-black columns poised — one hollow hemisphere!

  LIII

  Ten thousand columns in that quivering light

  Distinct, between whose shafts wound far away

  The long and labyrinthine aisles, more bright

  With their own radiance than the Heaven of Day;

  And on the jasper walls around there lay

  Paintings, the poesy of mightiest thought,

  Which did the Spirit’s history display;

  A tale of passionate change, divinely taught,

  Which, in their wingèd dance, unconscious Genii wrought.

  LIV

  Beneath there sate on many a sapphire throne

  The Great who had departed from mankind,

  A mighty Senate; — some, whose white hair shone

  Like mountain snow, mild, beautiful and blind;

  Some, female forms, whose gestures beamed with mind;

  And ardent youths, and children bright and fair;

  And some had lyres whose strings were intertwined

  With pale and clinging flames, which ever there

  Waked faint yet thrilling sounds that pierced the crystal air.

  LV

  One seat was vacant in the midst, a throne,

  Reared on a pyramid like sculptured flame,

  Distinct with circling steps which rested on

  Their own deep fire. Soon as the Woman came

  Into that hall, she shrieked the Spirit’s name

  And fell; and vanished slowly from the sight.
r />   Darkness arose from her dissolving frame, —

  Which, gathering, filled that dome of woven light,

  Blotting its spherèd stars with supernatural night.

  LVI

  Then first two glittering lights were seen to glide

  In circles on the amethystine floor,

  Small serpent eyes trailing from side to side,

  Like meteors on a river’s grassy shore;

  They round each other rolled, dilating more

  And more — then rose, commingling into one,

  One clear and mighty planet hanging o’er

  A cloud of deepest shadow which was thrown

  Athwart the glowing steps and the crystalline throne.

  LVII

  The cloud which rested on that cone of flame

  Was cloven; beneath the planet sate a Form,

  Fairer than tongue can speak or thought may frame,

  The radiance of whose limbs rose-like and warm

  Flowed forth, and did with softest light inform

  The shadowy dome, the sculptures and the state

  Of those assembled shapes — with clinging charm

  Sinking upon their hearts and mine. He sate

  Majestic yet most mild, calm yet compassionate.

  LVIII

  Wonder and joy a passing faintness threw

  Over my brow — a hand supported me,

  Whose touch was magic strength; an eye of blue

  Looked into mine, like moonlight, soothingly;

  And a voice said, ‘Thou must a listener be

  This day; two mighty Spirits now return,

  Like birds of calm, from the world’s raging sea;

  They pour fresh light from Hope’s immortal urn;

  A tale of human power — despair not — list and learn!

  LIX

  I looked, and lo! one stood forth eloquently.

  His eyes were dark and deep, and the clear brow

  Which shadowed them was like the morning sky,

  The cloudless Heaven of Spring, when in their flow

  Through the bright air the soft winds as they blow

  Wake the green world; his gestures did obey

  The oracular mind that made his features glow,

  And where his curvèd lips half open lay,

  Passion’s divinest stream had made impetuous way.

  LX

  Beneath the darkness of his outspread hair

  He stood thus beautiful; but there was One

  Who sate beside him like his shadow there,

  And held his hand — far lovelier; she was known

  To be thus fair by the few lines alone

  Which through her floating locks and gathered cloke,

  Glances of soul-dissolving glory, shone;

  None else beheld her eyes — in him they woke

  Memories which found a tongue, as thus he silence broke.

  REVOLT OF ISLAM: Canto Second

  I

  THE star-light smile of children, the sweet looks

  Of women, the fair breast from which I fed,

  The murmur of the unreposing brooks,

  And the green light which, shifting overhead,

  Some tangled bower of vines around me shed,

  The shells on the sea-sand, and the wild flowers,

  The lamp-light through the rafters cheerly spread

  And on the twining flax — in life’s young hours

  These sights and sounds did nurse my spirit’s folded powers.

  II

  In Argolis, beside the echoing sea,

  Such impulses within my mortal frame

  Arose, and they were dear to memory,

  Like tokens of the dead; but others came

  Soon, in another shape — the wondrous fame

  Of the past world, the vital words and deeds

  Of minds whom neither time nor change can tame,

  Traditions dark and old whence evil creeds

  Start forth and whose dim shade a stream of poison feeds.

  III

  I heard, as all have heard, the various story

  Of human life, and wept unwilling tears.

  Feeble historians of its shame and glory,

  False disputants on all its hopes and fears,

  Victims who worshipped ruin, chroniclers

  Of daily scorn, and slaves who loathed their state,

  Yet, flattering Power, had given its ministers

  A throne of judgment in the grave—’t was fate,

  That among such as these my youth should seek its mate.

  IV

  The land in which I lived by a fell bane

  Was withered up. Tyrants dwelt side by side,

  And stabled in our homes, until the chain

  Stifled the captive’s cry, and to abide

  That blasting curse men had no shame. All vied

  In evil, slave and despot; fear with lust

  Strange fellowship through mutual hate had tied,

  Like two dark serpents tangled in the dust,

  Which on the paths of men their mingling poison thrust.

  V

  Earth, our bright home, its mountains and its waters,

  And the ethereal shapes which are suspended

  Over its green expanse, and those fair daughters,

  The clouds, of Sun and Ocean, who have blended

  The colors of the air since first extended

  It cradled the young world, none wandered forth

  To see or feel; a darkness had descended

  On every heart; the light which shows its worth

  Must among gentle thoughts and fearless take its birth.

  VI

  This vital world, this home of happy spirits,

  Was as a dungeon to my blasted kind;

  All that despair from murdered hope inherits

  They sought, and, in their helpless misery blind,

  A deeper prison and heavier chains did find,

  And stronger tyrants: — a dark gulf before,

  The realm of a stern Ruler, yawned; behind,

  Terror and Time conflicting drove, and bore

  On their tempestuous flood the shrieking wretch from shore.

  VII

  Out of that Ocean’s wrecks had Guilt and Woe

  Framed a dark dwelling for their homeless thought,

  And, starting at the ghosts which to and fro

  Glide o’er its dim and gloomy strand, had brought

  The worship thence which they each other taught.

  Well might men loathe their life! well might they turn

  Even to the ills again from which they sought

  Such refuge after death! — well might they learn

  To gaze on this fair world with hopeless unconcern!

  VIII

  For they all pined in bondage; body and soul,

  Tyrant and slave, victim and torturer, bent

  Before one Power, to which supreme control

  Over their will by their own weakness lent

  Made all its many names omnipotent;

  All symbols of things evil, all divine;

  And hymns of blood or mockery, which rent

  The air from all its fanes, did intertwine

  Imposture’s impious toils round each discordant shrine.

  IX

  I heard, as all have heard, life’s various story,

  And in no careless heart transcribed the tale;

  But, from the sneers of men who had grown hoary

  In shame and scorn, from groans of crowds made pale

  By famine, from a mother’s desolate wail

  O’er her polluted child, from innocent blood

  Poured on the earth, and brows anxious and pale

  With the heart’s warfare, did I gather food

  To feed my many thoughts — a tameless multitude!

  X

  I wandered through the wrecks of days departed

  Far by the desolated shore, when even

  O’e
r the still sea and jagged islets darted

  The light of moonrise; in the northern Heaven,

  Among the clouds near the horizon driven,

  The mountains lay beneath one planet pale;

  Around me broken tombs and columns riven

  Looked vast in twilight, and the sorrowing gale

  Waked in those ruins gray its everlasting wail!

  XI

  I knew not who had framed these wonders then,

  Nor had I heard the story of their deeds;

  But dwellings of a race of mightier men,

  And monuments of less ungentle creeds,

  Tell their own tale to him who wisely heeds

  The language which they speak; and now, to me,

  The moonlight making pale the blooming weeds,

  The bright stars shining in the breathless sea,

  Interpreted those scrolls of mortal mystery.

  XII

  Such man has been, and such may yet become!

  Ay, wiser, greater, gentler even than they

  Who on the fragments of yon shattered dome

  Have stamped the sign of power! I felt the sway

  Of the vast stream of ages bear away

  My floating thoughts — my heart beat loud and fast —

  Even as a storm let loose beneath the ray

  Of the still moon, my spirit onward passed

  Beneath truth’s steady beams upon its tumult cast.

  XIII

  It shall be thus no more! too long, too long,

  Sons of the glorious dead, have ye lain bound

  In darkness and in ruin! Hope is strong,

  Justice and Truth their wingèd child have found!

  Awake! arise! until the mighty sound

  Of your career shall scatter in its gust

  The thrones of the oppressor, and the ground

  Hide the last altar’s unregarded dust,

  Whose Idol has so long betrayed your impious trust.

  XIV

  It must be so — I will arise and waken

  The multitude, and like a sulphurous hill,

  Which on a sudden from its snows has shaken

  The swoon of ages, it shall burst, and fill

  The world with cleansing fire; it must, it will —

  It may not be restrained! — and who shall stand

  Amid the rocking earthquake steadfast still

  But Laon? on high Freedom’s desert land

  A tower whose marble walls the leaguèd storms withstand!

  XV

  One summer night, in commune with the hope

  Thus deeply fed, amid those ruins gray

  I watched beneath the dark sky’s starry cope;

  And ever from that hour upon me lay

  The burden of this hope, and night or day,

  In vision or in dream, clove to my breast;

  Among mankind, or when gone far away

  To the lone shores and mountains, ‘t was a guest