Percy Bysshe Shelley

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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’er 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

  Which followed where I fled, and watched when I did rest.

  XVI

  These hopes found words through which my spirit sought

  To weave a bondage of such sympathy

  As might create some response to the thought

  Which ruled me now — and as the vapors lie

  Bright in the outspread morning’s radiancy,

  So were these thoughts invested with the light

  Of language; and all bosoms made reply

  On which its lustre streamed, whene’er it might

  Through darkness wide and deep those trancèd spirits smite.

  XVII

  Yes, many an eye with dizzy tears was dim,

  And oft I thought to clasp my own heart’s brother,

  When I could feel the listener’s senses swim,

  And hear his breath its own swift gaspings smother

  Even as my words evoked them — and another,

  And yet another, I did fondly deem,

  Felt that we all were sons of one great mother;

  And the cold truth such sad reverse did seem

  As to awake in grief from some delightful dream.

  XVIII

  Yes, oft beside the ruined labyrinth

  Which skirts the hoary caves of the green deep

  Did Laon and his friend on one gray plinth,

  Round whose worn base the wild waves hiss and leap,

  Resting at eve, a lofty converse keep;

  And that this friend was false may now be said

  Calmly — that he like other men could weep

  Tears which are lies, and could betray and spread

  Snares for that guileless heart which for his own had bled.

  XIX

  Then, had no great aim recompensed my sorrow,

  I must have sought dark respite from its stress

  In dreamless rest, in sleep that sees no morrow —

  For to tread life’s dismaying wilderness

  Without one smile to cheer, one voice to bless,

  Amid the snares and scoffs of humankind,

  Is hard — but I betrayed it not, nor less

  With love that scorned return sought to unbind

  The interwoven clouds which make its wisdom blind.

  XX

  With deathless minds, which leave where they have passed

  A path of light, my soul communion knew,

  Till from that glorious intercourse, at last,

  As from a mine of magic store, I drew

  Words which were weapons; round my heart there grew

  The adamantine armor of their power;

  And from my fancy wings of golden hue

  Sprang forth — yet not alone from wisdom’s tower,

  A minister of truth, these plumes young Laon bore.

  XXI

  An orphan with my parents lived, whose eyes

  Were lodestars of delight, which drew me home

  When I might wander forth; nor did I prize

  Aught human thing beneath Heaven’s mighty dome

  Beyond this child; so when sad hours were come,

  And baffled hope like ice still clung to me,

  Since kin were cold, and friends had now become

  Heartless and false, I turned from all to be,

  Cythna, the only source of tears
and smiles to thee.

  XXII

  What wert thou then? A child most infantine,

  Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age

  In all but its sweet looks and mien divine;

  Even then, methought, with the world’s tyrant rage

  A patient warfare thy young heart did wage,

  When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought

  Some tale or thine own fancies would engage

  To overflow with tears, or converse fraught

  With passion o’er their depths its fleeting light had wrought.

  XXIII

  She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness,

  A power, that from its objects scarcely drew

  One impulse of her being — in her lightness

  Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew

  Which wanders through the waste air’s pathless blue

  To nourish some far desert; she did seem

  Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew,

  Like the bright shade of some immortal dream

  Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the wave of life’s dark stream.

  XXIV

  As mine own shadow was this child to me,

  A second self, far dearer and more fair,

  Which clothed in undissolving radiancy

  All those steep paths which languor and despair

  Of human things had made so dark and bare,

  But which I trod alone — nor, till bereft

  Of friends, and overcome by lonely care,

  Knew I what solace for that loss was left,

  Though by a bitter wound my trusting heart was cleft.

  XXV

  Once she was dear, now she was all I had

  To love in human life — this playmate sweet,

  This child of twelve years old. So she was made

  My sole associate, and her willing feet

  Wandered with mine where Earth and Ocean meet,

  Beyond the aërial mountains whose vast cells

  The unreposing billows ever beat,

  Through forests wild and old, and lawny dells

  Where boughs of incense droop over the emerald wells.

  XXVI

  And warm and light I felt her clasping hand

  When twined in mine; she followed where I went,

  Through the lone paths of our immortal land.

  It had no waste but some memorial lent

  Which strung me to my toil — some monument

  Vital with mind; then Cythna by my side,

  Until the bright and beaming day were spent,

  Would rest, with looks entreating to abide,

  Too earnest and too sweet ever to be denied.

  XXVII

  And soon I could not have refused her. Thus

  Forever, day and night, we two were ne’er

  Parted but when brief sleep divided us;

  And, when the pauses of the lulling air

  Of noon beside the sea had made a lair

  For her soothed senses, in my arm she slept,

  And I kept watch over her slumbers there,

  While, as the shifting visions over her swept,

  Amid her innocent rest by turns she smiled and wept.

  XXVIII

  And in the murmur of her dreams was heard

  Sometimes the name of Laon. Suddenly

  She would arise, and, like the secret bird

  Whom sunset wakens, fill the shore and sky

  With her sweet accents, a wild melody, —

  Hymns which my soul had woven to Freedom, strong

  The source of passion whence they rose to be;

  Triumphant strains which, like a spirit’s tongue,

  To the enchanted waves that child of glory sung —

  XXIX

  Her white arms lifted through the shadowy stream

  Of her loose hair. Oh, excellently great

  Seemed to me then my purpose, the vast theme

  Of those impassioned songs, when Cythna sate

  Amid the calm which rapture doth create

  After its tumult, her heart vibrating,

  Her spirit o’er the Ocean’s floating state

  From her deep eyes far wandering, on the wing

  Of visions that were mine, beyond its utmost spring!

  XXX

  For, before Cythna loved it, had my song

  Peopled with thoughts the boundless universe,

  A mighty congregation, which were strong,

  Where’er they trod the darkness, to disperse

  The cloud of that unutterable curse

  Which clings upon mankind; all things became

  Slaves to my holy and heroic verse,

  Earth, sea and sky, the planets, life and fame

  And fate, or whate’er else binds the world’s wondrous frame.

  XXXI

  And this belovèd child thus felt the sway

  Of my conceptions, gathering like a cloud

  The very wind on which it rolls away;

  Hers too were all my thoughts, ere yet endowed

  With music and with light their fountains flowed

  In poesy; and her still and earnest face,

  Pallid with feelings which intensely glowed

  Within, was turned on mine with speechless grace,

  Watching the hopes which there her heart had learned to trace.

  XXXII

  In me, communion with this purest being

  Kindled intenser zeal, and made me wise

  In knowledge, which in hers mine own mind seeing

  Left in the human world few mysteries.

  How without fear of evil or disguise

  Was Cythna! what a spirit strong and mild,

  Which death or pain or peril could despise,

  Yet melt in tenderness! what genius wild,

  Yet mighty, was enclosed within one simple child!

  XXXIII

  New lore was this. Old age with its gray hair,

  And wrinkled legends of unworthy things,

  And icy sneers, is nought: it cannot dare

  To burst the chains which life forever flings

  On the entangled soul’s aspiring wings;

  So is it cold and cruel, and is made

  The careless slave of that dark Power which brings

  Evil, like blight, on man, who, still betrayed,

  Laughs o’er the grave in which his living hopes are laid.

  XXXIV

  Nor are the strong and the severe to keep

  The empire of the world. Thus Cythna taught

  Even in the visions of her eloquent sleep,

  Unconscious of the power through which she wrought

  The woof of such intelligible thought,

  As from the tranquil strength which cradled lay

  In her smile-peopled rest my spirit sought

  Why the deceiver and the slave has sway

  O’er heralds so divine of truth’s arising day.

  XXXV

  Within that fairest form the female mind,

  Untainted by the poison clouds which rest

  On the dark world, a sacred home did find;

  But else from the wide earth’s maternal breast

  Victorious Evil, which had dispossessed

  All native power, had those fair children torn,

  And made them slaves to soothe his vile unrest,

  And minister to lust its joys forlorn,

  Till they had learned to breathe the atmosphere of scorn.

  XXXVI

  This misery was but coldly felt, till she

  Became my only friend, who had endued

  My purpose with a wider sympathy.

  Thus Cythna mourned with me the servitude

  In which the half of humankind were mewed,

  Victims of lust and hate, the slaves of slaves;

  She mourned that grace and power were thrown as food

  To the hyena Lust, who, among graves,

  Over his loat
hèd meal, laughing in agony, raves.

  XXXVII

  And I, still gazing on that glorious child,

  Even as these thoughts flushed o’er her:—’Cythna sweet,

  Well with the world art thou unreconciled;

  Never will peace and human nature meet

  Till free and equal man and woman greet

  Domestic peace; and ere this power can make

  In human hearts its calm and holy seat,

  This slavery must be broken’ — as I spake,

  From Cythna’s eyes a light of exultation brake.

  XXXVIII

  She replied earnestly:—’It shall be mine,

  This task, — mine, Laon! thou hast much to gain;

  Nor wilt thou at poor Cythna’s pride repine,

  If she should lead a happy female train

  To meet thee over the rejoicing plain,

  When myriads at thy call shall throng around

  The Golden City.’ — Then the child did strain

  My arm upon her tremulous heart, and wound

  Her own about my neck, till some reply she found.

  XXXIX

  I smiled, and spake not.—’Wherefore dost thou smile

  At what I say? Laon, I am not weak,

  And, though my cheek might become pale the while,

  With thee, if thou desirest, will I seek

  Through their array of banded slaves to wreak

  Ruin upon the tyrants. I had thought

  It was more hard to turn my unpractised cheek

  To scorn and shame, and this belovèd spot

  And thee, O dearest friend, to leave and murmur not.

  XL

  ‘Whence came I what I am? Thou, Laon, knowest

  How a young child should thus undaunted be;

  Methinks it is a power which thou bestowest,

  Through which I seek, by most resembling thee,

  So to become most good, and great, and free;

  Yet, far beyond this Ocean’s utmost roar,

  In towers and huts are many like to me,

  Who, could they see thine eyes, or feel such lore

  As I have learnt from them, like me would fear no more.

  XLI

  ‘Think’st thou that I shall speak unskilfully,

  And none will heed me? I remember now

  How once a slave in tortures doomed to die

  Was saved because in accents sweet and low

  He sung a song his judge loved long ago,

  As he was led to death. All shall relent

  Who hear me; tears as mine have flowed, shall flow,

  Hearts beat as mine now beats, with such intent

  As renovates the world; a will omnipotent!

  XLII

  ‘Yes, I will tread Pride’s golden palaces,

  Through Penury’s roofless huts and squalid cells

  Will I descend, where’er in abjectness

  Woman with some vile slave her tyrant dwells;

  There with the music of thine own sweet spells