Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

by Lord Byron

  And shall I shrink from thine eternity?

  No! though the serpent’s sting should pierce me thorough,

  And thou thyself wert like the serpent, coil

  Around me still! and I will smile,

  And curse thee not; but hold

  Thee in as warm a fold 130

  As — — but descend, and prove

  A mortal’s love

  For an immortal. If the skies contain

  More joy than thou canst give and take, remain!

  Anah. Sister! sister! I view them winging

  Their bright way through the parted night.

  Aho. The clouds from off their pinions flinging,

  As though they bore to-morrow’s light.

  Anah. But if our father see the sight!

  Aho. He would but deem it was the moon 140

  Rising unto some sorcerer’s tune

  An hour too soon.

  Anah. They come! he comes! — Azaziel!

  Aho. Haste

  To meet them! Oh! for wings to bear

  My spirit, while they hover there,

  To Samiasa’s breast!

  Anah. Lo! they have kindled all the west,

  Like a returning sunset; — lo!

  On Ararat’s late secret crest

  A mild and many-coloured bow, 150

  The remnant of their flashing path,

  Now shines! and now, behold! it hath

  Returned to night, as rippling foam,

  Which the Leviathan hath lashed

  From his unfathomable home,

  When sporting on the face of the calm deep,

  Subsides soon after he again hath dashed

  Down, down, to where the Ocean’s fountains sleep.

  Aho. They have touched earth! Samiasa!

  Anah. My Azaziel!

  [Exeunt.

  Scene II. — Enter Irad and Japhet.

  Irad. Despond not: wherefore wilt thou wander thus

  To add thy silence to the silent night,

  And lift thy tearful eye unto the stars?

  They cannot aid thee.

  Japh. But they soothe me — now

  Perhaps she looks upon them as I look.

  Methinks a being that is beautiful

  Becometh more so as it looks on beauty,

  The eternal beauty of undying things.

  Oh, Anah!

  Irad. But she loves thee not.

  Japh. Alas!

  Irad. And proud Aholibamah spurns me also. 10

  Japh. I feel for thee too.

  Irad. Let her keep her pride,

  Mine hath enabled me to bear her scorn:

  It may be, time too will avenge it.

  Japh. Canst thou

  Find joy in such a thought?

  Irad. Nor joy nor sorrow.

  I loved her well; I would have loved her better,

  Had love been met with love: as ‘tis, I leave her

  To brighter destinies, if so she deems them.

  Japh. What destinies?

  Irad. I have some cause to think

  She loves another.

  Japh. Anah!

  Irad. No; her sister.

  Japh. What other?

  Irad. That I know not; but her air, 20

  If not her words, tells me she loves another.

  Japh. Aye, but not Anah: she but loves her God.

  Irad. Whate’er she loveth, so she loves thee not,

  What can it profit thee?

  Japh. True, nothing; but

  I love.

  Irad. And so did I.

  Japh. And now thou lov’st not,

  Or think’st thou lov’st not, art thou happier?

  Irad. Yes.

  Japh. I pity thee.

  Irad. Me! why?

  Japh. For being happy,

  Deprived of that which makes my misery.

  Irad. I take thy taunt as part of thy distemper,

  And would not feel as thou dost for more shekels 30

  Than all our father’s herds would bring, if weighed

  Against the metal of the sons of Cain —

  The yellow dust they try to barter with us,

  As if such useless and discoloured trash,

  The refuse of the earth, could be received

  For milk, and wool, and flesh, and fruits, and all

  Our flocks and wilderness afford. — Go, Japhet,

  Sigh to the stars, as wolves howl to the moon —

  I must back to my rest.

  Japh. And so would I

  If I could rest.

  Irad. Thou wilt not to our tents then? 40

  Japh. No, Irad; I will to the cavern, whose

  Mouth they say opens from the internal world,

  To let the inner spirits of the earth

  Forth when they walk its surface.

  Irad. Wherefore so?

  What wouldst thou there?

  Japh. Soothe further my sad spirit

  With gloom as sad: it is a hopeless spot,

  And I am hopeless.

  Irad. But ‘tis dangerous;

  Strange sounds and sights have peopled it with terrors.

  I must go with thee.

  Japh. Irad, no; believe me

  I feel no evil thought, and fear no evil. 50

  Irad. But evil things will be thy foe the more

  As not being of them: turn thy steps aside,

  Or let mine be with thine.

  Japh. No, neither, Irad;

  I must proceed alone.

  Irad. Then peace be with thee!

  [Exit Irad.

  Japh. (solus).

  Peace! I have sought it where it should be found,

  In love — with love, too, which perhaps deserved it;

  And, in its stead, a heaviness of heart,

  A weakness of the spirit, listless days,

  And nights inexorable to sweet sleep

  Have come upon me. Peace! what peace? the calm 60

  Of desolation, and the stillness of

  The untrodden forest, only broken by

  The sweeping tempest through its groaning boughs;

  Such is the sullen or the fitful state

  Of my mind overworn. The Earth’s grown wicked,

  And many signs and portents have proclaimed

  A change at hand, and an o’erwhelming doom

  To perishable beings. Oh, my Anah!

  When the dread hour denounced shall open wide

  The fountains of the deep, how mightest thou 70

  Have lain within this bosom, folded from

  The elements; this bosom, which in vain

  Hath beat for thee, and then will beat more vainly,

  While thine — Oh, God! at least remit to her

  Thy wrath! for she is pure amidst the failing

  As a star in the clouds, which cannot quench,

  Although they obscure it for an hour. My Anah!

  How would I have adored thee, but thou wouldst not;

  And still would I redeem thee — see thee live

  When Ocean is earth’s grave, and, unopposed 80

  By rock or shallow, the Leviathan,

  Lord of the shoreless sea and watery world,

  Shall wonder at his boundlessness of realm.[Exit Japhet.

  Enter Noah and Shem.

  Noah. Where is thy brother Japhet?

  Shem. He went forth,

  According to his wont, to meet with Irad,

  He said; but, as I fear, to bend his steps

  Towards Anah’s tents, round which he hovers nightly,

  Like a dove round and round its pillaged nest;

  Or else he walks the wild up to the cavern

  Which opens to the heart of Ararat. 90

  Noah. What doth he there? It is an evil spot

  Upon an earth all evil; for things worse

  Than even wicked men resort
there: he

  Still loves this daughter of a fated race,

  Although he could not wed her if she loved him,

  And that she doth not. Oh, the unhappy hearts

  Of men! that one of my blood, knowing well

  The destiny and evil of these days,

  And that the hour approacheth, should indulge

  In such forbidden yearnings! Lead the way; 100

  He must be sought for!

  Shem. Go not forward, father:

  I will seek Japhet.

  Noah. Do not fear for me:

  All evil things are powerless on the man

  Selected by Jehovah. — Let us on.

  Shem. To the tents of the father of the sisters?

  Noah. No; to the cavern of the Caucasus.

  [Exeunt Noah and Shem.

  Scene III. — The mountains. — A cavern, and the rocks of Caucasus.

  Japh. (solus). Ye wilds, that look eternal; and thou cave,

  Which seem’st unfathomable; and ye mountains,

  So varied and so terrible in beauty;

  Here, in your rugged majesty of rocks

  And toppling trees that twine their roots with stone

  In perpendicular places, where the foot

  Of man would tremble, could he reach them — yes,

  Ye look eternal! Yet, in a few days,

  Perhaps even hours, ye will be changed, rent, hurled

  Before the mass of waters; and yon cave, 10

  Which seems to lead into a lower world,

  Shall have its depths searched by the sweeping wave,

  And dolphins gambol in the lion’s den!

  And man — — Oh, men! my fellow-beings! Who

  Shall weep above your universal grave,

  Save I? Who shall be left to weep? My kinsmen,

  Alas! what am I better than ye are,

  That I must live beyond ye? Where shall be

  The pleasant places where I thought of Anah

  While I had hope? or the more savage haunts, 20

  Scarce less beloved, where I despaired for her?

  And can it be! — Shall yon exulting peak,

  Whose glittering top is like a distant star,

  Lie low beneath the boiling of the deep?

  No more to have the morning sun break forth,

  And scatter back the mists in floating folds

  From its tremendous brow? no more to have

  Day’s broad orb drop behind its head at even,

  Leaving it with a crown of many hues?

  No more to be the beacon of the world, 30

  For angels to alight on, as the spot

  Nearest the stars? And can those words “no more”

  Be meant for thee, for all things, save for us,

  And the predestined creeping things reserved

  By my sire to Jehovah’s bidding? May

  He preserve them, and I not have the power

  To snatch the loveliest of earth’s daughters from

  A doom which even some serpent, with his mate,

  Shall ‘scape to save his kind to be prolonged,

  To hiss and sting through some emerging world, 40

  Reeking and dank from out the slime, whose ooze

  Shall slumber o’er the wreck of this, until

  The salt morass subside into a sphere

  Beneath the sun, and be the monument,

  The sole and undistinguished sepulchre,

  Of yet quick myriads of all life? How much

  Breath will be stilled at once! All beauteous world!

  So young, so marked out for destruction, I

  With a cleft heart look on thee day by day,

  And night by night, thy numbered days and nights. 50

  I cannot save thee, cannot save even her

  Whose love had made me love thee more; but as

  A portion of thy dust, I cannot think

  Upon thy coming doom without a feeling

  Such as — Oh God! and canst thou — [He pauses.

  [A rushing sound from the cavern is heard, and shouts

  of laughter — afterwards a Spirit passes.

  Japh. In the name

  Of the Most High, what art thou?

  Spirit (laughs).Ha! ha! ha!

  Japh. By all that earth holds holiest, speak!

  Spirit (laughs).Ha! ha!

  Japh. By the approaching deluge! by the earth

  Which will be strangled by the ocean! by

  The deep which will lay open all her fountains! 60

  The heaven which will convert her clouds to seas,

  And the Omnipotent who makes and crushes!

  Thou unknown, terrible, and indistinct,

  Yet awful Thing of Shadows, speak to me!

  Why dost thou laugh that horrid laugh?

  Spirit. Why weep’st thou?

  Japh. For earth and all her children.

  Spirit. Ha! ha! ha!

  [Spirit vanishes.

  Japh. How the fiend mocks the tortures of a world,

  The coming desolation of an orb,

  On which the sun shall rise and warm no life!

  How the earth sleeps! and all that in it is 70

  Sleep too upon the very eve of death!

  Why should they wake to meet it? What are here,

  Which look like death in life, and speak like things

  Born ere this dying world? They come like clouds!

  [Various Spirits pass from the cavern.

  Spirit.

  Rejoice!

  The abhorréd race

  Which could not keep in Eden their high place,

  But listened to the voice

  Of knowledge without power,

  Are nigh the hour, 80

  Of Death!

  Not slow, not single, not by sword, nor sorrow,

  Nor years, nor heart-break, nor Time’s sapping motion,

  Shall they drop off. Behold their last to-morrow!

  Earth shall be Ocean!

  And no breath,

  Save of the winds, be on the unbounded wave!

  Angels shall tire their wings, but find no spot:

  Not even a rock from out the liquid grave

  Shall lift its point to save, 90

  Or show the place where strong Despair hath died,

  After long looking o’er the ocean wide

  For the expected ebb which cometh not:

  All shall be void,

  Destroyed!

  Another element shall be the lord

  Of life, and the abhorred

  Children of dust be quenched; and of each hue

  Of earth nought left but the unbroken blue;

  And of the variegated mountain 100

  Shall nought remain

  Unchanged, or of the level plain;

  Cedar and pine shall lift their tops in vain:

  All merged within the universal fountain,

  Man, earth, and fire, shall die,

  And sea and sky

  Look vast and lifeless in the eternal eye.

  Upon the foam

  Who shall erect a home?

  Japh. (coming forward).

  My sire! 110

  Earth’s seed shall not expire;

  Only the evil shall be put away

  From day.

  Avaunt! ye exulting demons of the waste!

  Who howl your hideous joy

  When God destroys whom you dare not destroy:

  Hence! haste!

  Back to your inner caves!

  Until the waves

  Shall search you in your secret place, 120

  And drive your sullen race

  Forth, to be rolled upon the tossing winds,

  In restless wretchedness along all space!

  Spirit.

  Son of the saved!

  When thou and thine have braved

  The wide and w
arring element;

  When the great barrier of the deep is rent,

  Shall thou and thine be good or happy? — No!

  Thy new world and new race shall be of woe —

  Less goodly in their aspect, in their years 130

  Less than the glorious giants, who

  Yet walk the world in pride,

  The Sons of Heaven by many a mortal bride.

  Thine shall be nothing of the past, save tears!

  And art thou not ashamed

  Thus to survive,

  And eat, and drink, and wive?

  With a base heart so far subdued and tamed,

  As even to hear this wide destruction named,

  Without such grief and courage, as should rather 140

  Bid thee await the world-dissolving wave,

  Than seek a shelter with thy favoured father,

  And build thy city o’er the drowned earth’s grave?

  Who would outlive their kind,

  Except the base and blind?

  Mine

  Hateth thine

  As of a different order in the sphere,

  But not our own.

  There is not one who hath not left a throne 150

  Vacant in heaven to dwell in darkness here,

  Rather than see his mates endure alone.

  Go, wretch! and give

  A life like thine to other wretches — live!

  And when the annihilating waters roar

  Above what they have done,

  Envy the giant patriarchs then no more,

  And scorn thy sire as the surviving one!

  Thyself for being his son!

  Chorus of Spirits issuing from the cavern.

  Rejoice! 160

  No more the human voice

  Shall vex our joys in middle air

  With prayer;

  No more

  Shall they adore;

  And we, who ne’er for ages have adored

  The prayer-exacting Lord,

  To whom the omission of a sacrifice

  Is vice;

  We, we shall view the deep’s salt sources poured 170

  Until one element shall do the work

  Of all in chaos; until they,

  The creatures proud of their poor clay,

  Shall perish, and their bleached bones shall lurk

  In caves, in dens, in clefts of mountains, where

  The deep shall follow to their latest lair;

  Where even the brutes, in their despair,

  Shall cease to prey on man and on each other,

  And the striped tiger shall lie down to die

  Beside the lamb, as though he were his brother; 180

  Till all things shall be as they were,

  Silent and uncreated, save the sky:

  While a brief truce

  Is made with Death, who shall forbear

  The little remnant of the past creation,

  To generate new nations for his use;

  This remnant, floating o’er the undulation

  Of the subsiding deluge, from its slime,