Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series

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Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series Page 119

by Percy Bysshe Shelley


  The innumerable worlds of golden light

  Which are my empire, and the least of them

  which thou wouldst redeem from me?

  Know’st thou not them my portion?

  Or wouldst rekindle the … strife 130

  Which our great Father then did arbitrate

  Which he assigned to his competing sons

  Each his apportioned realm?

  Thou Destiny,

  Thou who art mailed in the omnipotence

  Of Him who tends thee forth, whate’er thy task, 135

  Speed, spare not to accomplish, and be mine

  Thy trophies, whether Greece again become

  The fountain in the desert whence the earth

  Shall drink of freedom, which shall give it strength

  To suffer, or a gulf of hollow death 140

  To swallow all delight, all life, all hope.

  Go, thou Vicegerent of my will, no less

  Than of the Father’s; but lest thou shouldst faint,

  The winged hounds, Famine and Pestilence,

  Shall wait on thee, the hundred-forked snake 145

  Insatiate Superstition still shall…

  The earth behind thy steps, and War shall hover

  Above, and Fraud shall gape below, and Change

  Shall flit before thee on her dragon wings,

  Convulsing and consuming, and I add 150

  Three vials of the tears which daemons weep

  When virtuous spirits through the gate of Death

  Pass triumphing over the thorns of life,

  Sceptres and crowns, mitres and swords and snares,

  Trampling in scorn, like Him and Socrates. 155

  The first is Anarchy; when Power and Pleasure,

  Glory and science and security,

  On Freedom hang like fruit on the green tree,

  Then pour it forth, and men shall gather ashes.

  The second Tyranny —

  CHRIST:

  Obdurate spirit! 160

  Thou seest but the Past in the To-come.

  Pride is thy error and thy punishment.

  Boast not thine empire, dream not that thy worlds

  Are more than furnace-sparks or rainbow-drops

  Before the Power that wields and kindles them. 165

  True greatness asks not space, true excellence

  Lives in the Spirit of all things that live,

  Which lends it to the worlds thou callest thine.

  …

  MAHOMET:

  …Haste thou and fill the waning crescent

  With beams as keen as those which pierced the shadow 170

  Of Christian night rolled back upon the West,

  When the orient moon of Islam rode in triumph

  From Tmolus to the Acroceraunian snow.

  …

  Wake, thou Word

  Of God, and from the throne of Destiny 175

  Even to the utmost limit of thy way

  May Triumph

  …

  Be thou a curse on them whose creed

  Divides and multiplies the most high God.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE:

  MAHMUD. HASSAN. DAOOD. AHASUERUS, A JEW. CHORUS OF GREEK CAPTIVE WOMEN. [THE PHANTOM OF MAHOMET II. (OMITTED, EDITION 1822.)] MESSENGERS, SLAVES, AND ATTENDANTS.

  SCENE: CONSTANTINOPLE.

  TIME: SUNSET.

  SCENE: A TERRACE ON THE SERAGLIO. MAHMUD SLEEPING, AN INDIAN SLAVE SITTING BESIDE HIS COUCH.

  HELLAS

  CHORUS OF GREEK CAPTIVE WOMEN:

  We strew these opiate flowers

  On thy restless pillow, —

  They were stripped from Orient bowers,

  By the Indian billow.

  Be thy sleep 5

  Calm and deep,

  Like theirs who fell — not ours who weep!

  INDIAN:

  Away, unlovely dreams!

  Away, false shapes of sleep

  Be his, as Heaven seems, 10

  Clear, and bright, and deep!

  Soft as love, and calm as death,

  Sweet as a summer night without a breath.

  CHORUS:

  Sleep, sleep! our song is laden

  With the soul of slumber; 15

  It was sung by a Samian maiden,

  Whose lover was of the number

  Who now keep

  That calm sleep

  Whence none may wake, where none shall weep. 20

  INDIAN:

  I touch thy temples pale!

  I breathe my soul on thee!

  And could my prayers avail,

  All my joy should be

  Dead, and I would live to weep, 25

  So thou mightst win one hour of quiet sleep.

  CHORUS:

  Breathe low, low

  The spell of the mighty mistress now!

  When Conscience lulls her sated snake,

  And Tyrants sleep, let Freedom wake. 30

  Breathe low — low

  The words which, like secret fire, shall flow

  Through the veins of the frozen earth — low, low!

  SEMICHORUS 1:

  Life may change, but it may fly not;

  Hope may vanish, but can die not; 35

  Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;

  Love repulsed, — but it returneth!

  SEMICHORUS 2:

  Yet were life a charnel where

  Hope lay coffined with Despair;

  Yet were truth a sacred lie, 40

  Love were lust —

  SEMICHORUS 1:

  If Liberty

  Lent not life its soul of light,

  Hope its iris of delight,

  Truth its prophet’s robe to wear,

  Love its power to give and bear. 45

  CHORUS:

  In the great morning of the world,

  The Spirit of God with might unfurled

  The flag of Freedom over Chaos,

  And all its banded anarchs fled,

  Like vultures frighted from Imaus, 50

  Before an earthquake’s tread. —

  So from Time’s tempestuous dawn

  Freedom’s splendour burst and shone: —

  Thermopylae and Marathon

  Caught like mountains beacon-lighted, 55

  The springing Fire. — The winged glory

  On Philippi half-alighted,

  Like an eagle on a promontory.

  Its unwearied wings could fan

  The quenchless ashes of Milan. 60

  From age to age, from man to man,

  It lived; and lit from land to land

  Florence, Albion, Switzerland.

  Then night fell; and, as from night,

  Reassuming fiery flight, 65

  From the West swift Freedom came,

  Against the course of Heaven and doom.

  A second sun arrayed in flame,

  To burn, to kindle, to illume.

  From far Atlantis its young beams 70

  Chased the shadows and the dreams.

  France, with all her sanguine steams,

  Hid, but quenched it not; again

  Through clouds its shafts of glory rain

  From utmost Germany to Spain. 75

  As an eagle fed with morning

  Scorns the embattled tempest’s warning,

  When she seeks her aerie hanging

  In the mountain-cedar’s hair,

  And her brood expect the clanging 80

  Of her wings through the wild air,

  Sick with famine: — Freedom, so

  To what of Greece remaineth now

  Returns; her hoary ruins glow

  Like Orient mountains lost in day; 85

  Beneath the safety of her wings

  Her renovated nurslings prey,

  And in the naked lightenings

  Of truth they purge their dazzled eyes.

  Let Freedom leave — where’er she flies, 90

  A Desert, or a Paradise:

  Let the beautiful and the
brave

  Share her glory, or a grave.

  SEMICHORUS 1:

  With the gifts of gladness

  Greece did thy cradle strew; 95

  SEMICHORUS 2:

  With the tears of sadness

  Greece did thy shroud bedew!

  SEMICHORUS 1:

  With an orphan’s affection

  She followed thy bier through Time;

  SEMICHORUS 2:

  And at thy resurrection 100

  Reappeareth, like thou, sublime!

  SEMICHORUS 1:

  If Heaven should resume thee,

  To Heaven shall her spirit ascend;

  SEMICHORUS 2:

  If Hell should entomb thee,

  To Hell shall her high hearts bend. 105

  SEMICHORUS 1:

  If Annihilation —

  SEMICHORUS 2:

  Dust let her glories be!

  And a name and a nation

  Be forgotten, Freedom, with thee!

  INDIAN:

  His brow grows darker — breathe not — move not! 110

  He starts — he shudders — ye that love not,

  With your panting loud and fast,

  Have awakened him at last.

  MAHMUD [STARTING FROM HIS SLEEP]:

  Man the Seraglio-guard! make fast the gate!

  What! from a cannonade of three short hours? 115

  ‘Tis false! that breach towards the Bosphorus

  Cannot be practicable yet — who stirs?

  Stand to the match; that when the foe prevails

  One spark may mix in reconciling ruin

  The conqueror and the conquered! Heave the tower 120

  Into the gap — wrench off the roof!

  [ENTER HASSAN.]

  Ha! what!

  The truth of day lightens upon my dream

  And I am Mahmud still.

  HASSAN:

  Your Sublime Highness

  Is strangely moved.

  MAHMUD:

  The times do cast strange shadows

  On those who watch and who must rule their course, 125

  Lest they, being first in peril as in glory,

  Be whelmed in the fierce ebb: — and these are of them.

  Thrice has a gloomy vision hunted me

  As thus from sleep into the troubled day;

  It shakes me as the tempest shakes the sea, 130

  Leaving no figure upon memory’s glass.

  Would that — no matter. Thou didst say thou knewest

  A Jew, whose spirit is a chronicle

  Of strange and secret and forgotten things.

  I bade thee summon him:—’tis said his tribe 135

  Dream, and are wise interpreters of dreams.

  HASSAN:

  The Jew of whom I spake is old, — so old

  He seems to have outlived a world’s decay;

  The hoary mountains and the wrinkled ocean

  Seem younger still than he; — his hair and beard 140

  Are whiter than the tempest-sifted snow;

  His cold pale limbs and pulseless arteries

  Are like the fibres of a cloud instinct

  With light, and to the soul that quickens them

  Are as the atoms of the mountain-drift 145

  To the winter wind: — but from his eye looks forth

  A life of unconsumed thought which pierces

  The Present, and the Past, and the To-come.

  Some say that this is he whom the great prophet

  Jesus, the son of Joseph, for his mockery, 150

  Mocked with the curse of immortality.

  Some feign that he is Enoch: others dream

  He was pre-adamite and has survived

  Cycles of generation and of ruin.

  The sage, in truth, by dreadful abstinence 155

  And conquering penance of the mutinous flesh,

  Deep contemplation, and unwearied study,

  In years outstretched beyond the date of man,

  May have attained to sovereignty and science

  Over those strong and secret things and thoughts 160

  Which others fear and know not.

  MAHMUD:

  I would talk

  With this old Jew.

  HASSAN:

  Thy will is even now

  Made known to him, where he dwells in a sea-cavern

  ‘Mid the Demonesi, less accessible

  Than thou or God! He who would question him 165

  Must sail alone at sunset, where the stream

  Of Ocean sleeps around those foamless isles,

  When the young moon is westering as now,

  And evening airs wander upon the wave;

  And when the pines of that bee-pasturing isle, 170

  Green Erebinthus, quench the fiery shadow

  Of his gilt prow within the sapphire water,

  Then must the lonely helmsman cry aloud

  ‘Ahasuerus!’ and the caverns round

  Will answer ‘Ahasuerus!’ If his prayer 175

  Be granted, a faint meteor will arise

  Lighting him over Marmora, and a wind

  Will rush out of the sighing pine-forest,

  And with the wind a storm of harmony

  Unutterably sweet, and pilot him 180

  Through the soft twilight to the Bosphorus:

  Thence at the hour and place and circumstance

  Fit for the matter of their conference

  The Jew appears. Few dare, and few who dare

  Win the desired communion — but that shout 185

  Bodes —

  [A SHOUT WITHIN.]

  MAHMUD:

  Evil, doubtless; Like all human sounds.

  Let me converse with spirits.

  HASSAN:

  That shout again.

  MAHMUD:

  This Jew whom thou hast summoned —

  HASSAN:

  Will be here —

  MAHMUD:

  When the omnipotent hour to which are yoked

  He, I, and all things shall compel — enough! 190

  Silence those mutineers — that drunken crew,

  That crowd about the pilot in the storm.

  Ay! strike the foremost shorter by a head!

  They weary me, and I have need of rest.

  Kinks are like stars — they rise and set, they have 195

  The worship of the world, but no repose.

  [EXEUNT SEVERALLY.]

  CHORUS:

  Worlds on worlds are rolling ever

  From creation to decay,

  Like the bubbles on a river

  Sparkling, bursting, borne away. 200

  But they are still immortal

  Who, through birth’s orient portal

  And death’s dark chasm hurrying to and fro,

  Clothe their unceasing flight

  In the brief dust and light 205

  Gathered around their chariots as they go;

  New shapes they still may weave,

  New gods, new laws receive,

  Bright or dim are they as the robes they last

  On Death’s bare ribs had cast. 210

  A power from the unknown God,

  A Promethean conqueror, came;

  Like a triumphal path he trod

  The thorns of death and shame.

  A mortal shape to him 215

  Was like the vapour dim

  Which the orient planet animates with light;

  Hell, Sin, and Slavery came,

  Like bloodhounds mild and tame,

  Nor preyed, until their Lord had taken flight; 220

  The moon of Mahomet

  Arose, and it shall set:

  While blazoned as on Heaven’s immortal noon

  The cross leads generations on.

  Swift as the radiant shapes of sleep 225

  From one whose dreams are Paradise

  Fly, when the fond wretch wakes to weep,

  And Day peers forth with her blank eyes;

  So fleet, so fain
t, so fair,

  The Powers of earth and air 230

  Fled from the folding-star of Bethlehem:

  Apollo, Pan, and Love,

  And even Olympian Jove

  Grew weak, for killing Truth had glared on them;

  Our hills and seas and streams, 235

  Dispeopled of their dreams,

  Their waters turned to blood, their dew to tears,

  Wailed for the golden years.

  [ENTER MAHMUD, HASSAN, DAOOD, AND OTHERS.]

  MAHMUD:

  More gold? our ancestors bought gold with victory,

  And shall I sell it for defeat?

  DAOOD:

  The Janizars 240

  Clamour for pay.

  MAHMUD:

  Go! bid them pay themselves

  With Christian blood! Are there no Grecian virgins

  Whose shrieks and spasms and tears they may enjoy?

  No infidel children to impale on spears?

  No hoary priests after that Patriarch 245

  Who bent the curse against his country’s heart,

  Which clove his own at last? Go! bid them kill,

  Blood is the seed of gold.

  DAOOD:

  It has been sown,

  And yet the harvest to the sicklemen

  Is as a grain to each.

  MAHMUD:

  Then, take this signet, 250

  Unlock the seventh chamber in which lie

  The treasures of victorious Solyman, —

  An empire’s spoil stored for a day of ruin.

  O spirit of my sires! is it not come?

  The prey-birds and the wolves are gorged and sleep; 255

  But these, who spread their feast on the red earth,

  Hunger for gold, which fills not. — See them fed;

  Then, lead them to the rivers of fresh death.

  [EXIT DAOOD.]

  O miserable dawn, after a night

  More glorious than the day which it usurped! 260

  O faith in God! O power on earth! O word

  Of the great prophet, whose o’ershadowing wings

  Darkened the thrones and idols of the West,

  Now bright! — For thy sake cursed be the hour,

  Even as a father by an evil child, 265

  When the orient moon of Islam rolled in triumph

  From Caucasus to White Ceraunia!

  Ruin above, and anarchy below;

  Terror without, and treachery within;

  The Chalice of destruction full, and all 270

  Thirsting to drink; and who among us dares

  To dash it from his lips? and where is Hope?

  HASSAN:

  The lamp of our dominion still rides high;

  One God is God — Mahomet is His prophet.

  Four hundred thousand Moslems, from the limits 275

  Of utmost Asia, irresistibly

  Throng, like full clouds at the Sirocco’s cry;

  But not like them to weep their strength in tears:

  They bear destroying lightning, and their step

  Wakes earthquake to consume and overwhelm, 280

 

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