Will disenchant the captives, and will pour
For the despairing, from the crystal wells
Of thy deep spirit, reason’s mighty lore,
And power shall then abound, and hope arise once more.
XLIII
‘Can man be free if woman be a slave?
Chain one who lives, and breathes this boundless air,
To the corruption of a closèd grave!
Can they, whose mates are beasts condemned to bear
Scorn heavier far than toil or anguish, dare
To trample their oppressors? In their home,
Among their babes, thou knowest a curse would wear
The shape of woman — hoary Crime would come
Behind, and Fraud rebuild Religion’s tottering dome.
XLIV
‘I am a child: — I would not yet depart.
When I go forth alone, bearing the lamp
Aloft which thou hast kindled in my heart,
Millions of slaves from many a dungeon damp
Shall leap in joy, as the benumbing cramp
Of ages leaves their limbs. No ill may harm
Thy Cythna ever. Truth its radiant stamp
Has fixed, as an invulnerable charm,
Upon her children’s brow, dark Falsehood to disarm.
XLV
‘Wait yet awhile for the appointed day.
Thou wilt depart, and I with tears shall stand
Watching thy dim sail skirt the ocean gray;
Amid the dwellers of this lonely land
I shall remain alone — and thy command
Shall then dissolve the world’s unquiet trance,
And, multitudinous as the desert sand
Borne on the storm, its millions shall advance,
Thronging round thee, the light of their deliverance.
XLVI
‘Then, like the forests of some pathless mountain
Which from remotest glens two warring winds
Involve in fire which not the loosened fountain
Of broadest floods might quench, shall all the kinds
Of evil catch from our uniting minds
The spark which must consume them; — Cythna then
Will have cast off the impotence that binds
Her childhood now, and through the paths of men
Will pass, as the charmed bird that haunts the serpent’s den.
XLVII
‘We part! — O Laon, I must dare, nor tremble,
To meet those looks no more! — Oh, heavy stroke!
Sweet brother of my soul! can I dissemble
The agony of this thought?’ — As thus she spoke
The gathered sobs her quivering accents broke,
And in my arms she hid her beating breast.
I remained still for tears — sudden she woke
As one awakes from sleep, and wildly pressed
My bosom, her whole frame impetuously possessed.
XLVIII
‘We part to meet again — but yon blue waste,
Yon desert wide and deep, holds no recess
Within whose happy silence, thus embraced,
We might survive all ills in one caress;
Nor doth the grave — I fear ‘t is passionless —
Nor yon cold vacant Heaven: — we meet again
Within the minds of men, whose lips shall bless
Our memory, and whose hopes its light retain
When these dissevered bones are trodden in the plain.’
XLIX
I could not speak, though she had ceased, for now
The fountains of her feeling, swift and deep,
Seemed to suspend the tumult of their flow.
So we arose, and by the star-light steep
Went homeward — neither did we speak nor weep,
But, pale, were calm with passion. Thus subdued,
Like evening shades that o’er the mountains creep,
We moved towards our home; where, in this mood,
Each from the other sought refuge in solitude.
REVOLT OF ISLAM: Canto Third
I
WHAT thoughts had sway o’er Cythna’s lonely slumber
That night, I know not; but my own did seem
As if they might ten thousand years outnumber
Of waking life, the visions of a dream
Which hid in one dim gulf the troubled stream
Of mind; a boundless chaos wild and vast,
Whose limits yet were never memory’s theme;
And I lay struggling as its whirlwinds passed,
Sometimes for rapture sick, sometimes for pain aghast.
II
Two hours, whose mighty circle did embrace
More time than might make gray the infant world,
Rolled thus, a weary and tumultuous space;
When the third came, like mist on breezes curled,
From my dim sleep a shadow was unfurled;
Methought, upon the threshold of a cave
I sate with Cythna; drooping briony, pearled
With dew from the wild streamlet’s shattered wave,
Hung, where we sate to taste the joys which Nature gave.
III
We lived a day as we were wont to live,
But Nature had a robe of glory on,
And the bright air o’er every shape did weave
Intenser hues, so that the herbless stone,
The leafless bough among the leaves alone,
Had being clearer than its own could be;
And Cythna’s pure and radiant self was shown,
In this strange vision, so divine to me,
That if I loved before, now love was agony.
IV
Morn fled, noon came, evening, then night, descended,
And we prolonged calm talk beneath the sphere
Of the calm moon — when suddenly was blended
With our repose a nameless sense of fear;
And from the cave behind I seemed to hear
Sounds gathering upwards — accents incomplete,
And stifled shrieks, — and now, more near and near,
A tumult and a rush of thronging feet
The cavern’s secret depths beneath the earth did beat.
V
The scene was changed, and away, away, away!
Through the air and over the sea we sped,
And Cythna in my sheltering bosom lay,
And the winds bore me; through the darkness spread
Around, the gaping earth then vomited
Legions of foul and ghastly shapes, which hung
Upon my flight; and ever as we fled
They plucked at Cythna; soon to me then clung
A sense of actual things those monstrous dreams among.
VI
And I lay struggling in the impotence
Of sleep, while outward life had burst its bound,
Though, still deluded, strove the tortured sense
To its dire wanderings to adapt the sound
Which in the light of morn was poured around
Our dwelling; breathless, pale and unaware
I rose, and all the cottage crowded found
With armèd men, whose glittering swords were bare,
And whose degraded limbs the Tyrant’s garb did wear.
VII
And ere with rapid lips and gathered brow
I could demand the cause, a feeble shriek —
It was a feeble shriek, faint, far and low —
Arrested me; my mien grew calm and meek,
And grasping a small knife I went to seek
That voice among the crowd—’t was Cythna’s cry!
Beneath most calm resolve did agony wreak
Its whirlwind rage: — so I passed quietly
Till I beheld where bound that dearest child did lie.
VIII
I started to behold her, for delight
And exultation, and a joyance free,
Solemn, serene and lofty, filled the light
Of the calm smile with which she looked on me;
So that I feared some brainless ecstasy,
Wrought from that bitter woe, had wildered her.
‘Farewell! farewell!’ she said, as I drew nigh;
‘At first my peace was marred by this strange stir,
Now I am calm as truth — its chosen minister.
IX
‘Look not so, Laon — say farewell in hope;
These bloody men are but the slaves who bear
Their mistress to her task; it was my scope
The slavery where they drag me now to share,
And among captives willing chains to wear
Awhile — the rest thou knowest. Return, dear friend!
Let our first triumph trample the despair
Which would ensnare us now, for, in the end,
In victory or in death our hopes and fears must blend.’
X
These words had fallen on my unheeding ear,
Whilst I had watched the motions of the crew
With seeming careless glance; not many were
Around her, for their comrades just withdrew
To guard some other victim; so I drew
My knife, and with one impulse, suddenly,
All unaware three of their number slew,
And grasped a fourth by the throat, and with loud cry
My countrymen invoked to death or liberty.
XI
What followed then I know not, for a stroke,
On my raised arm and naked head came down,
Filling my eyes with blood. — When I awoke,
I felt that they had bound me in my swoon,
And up a rock which overhangs the town
By the steep path were bearing me; below
The plain was filled with slaughter, — overthrown
The vineyards and the harvests, and the glow
Of blazing roofs shone far o’er the white Ocean’s flow.
XII
Upon that rock a mighty column stood,
Whose capital seemed sculptured in the sky,
Which to the wanderers o’er the solitude
Of distant seas, from ages long gone by,
Had made a landmark; o’er its height to fly
Scarcely the cloud, the vulture or the blast
Has power, and when the shades of evening lie
On Earth and Ocean, its carved summits cast
The sunken daylight far through the aërial waste.
XIII
They bore me to a cavern in the hill
Beneath that column, and unbound me there;
And one did strip me stark; and one did fill
A vessel from the putrid pool; one bare
A lighted torch, and four with friendless care
Guided my steps the cavern-paths along;
Then up a steep and dark and narrow stair
We wound, until the torch’s fiery tongue
Amid the gushing day beamless and pallid hung.
XIV
They raised me to the platform of the pile,
That column’s dizzy height; the grate of brass,
Through which they thrust me, open stood the while,
As to its ponderous and suspended mass,
With chains which eat into the flesh, alas!
With brazen links, my naked limbs they bound;
The grate, as they departed to repass,
With horrid clangor fell, and the far sound
Of their retiring steps in the dense gloom was drowned.
XV
The noon was calm and bright: — around that column
The overhanging sky and circling sea,
Spread forth in silentness profound and solemn,
The darkness of brief frenzy cast on me,
So that I knew not my own misery;
The islands and the mountains in the day
Like clouds reposed afar; and I could see
The town among the woods below that lay,
And the dark rocks which bound the bright and glassy bay.
XVI
It was so calm, that scarce the feathery weed
Sown by some eagle on the topmost stone
Swayed in the air: — so bright, that noon did breed
No shadow in the sky beside mine own —
Mine, and the shadow of my chain alone.
Below, the smoke of roofs involved in flame
Rested like night; all else was clearly shown
In that broad glare; yet sound to me none came,
But of the living blood that ran within my frame.
XVII
The peace of madness fled, and ah, too soon!
A ship was lying on the sunny main;
Its sails were flagging in the breathless noon;
Its shadow lay beyond. That sight again
Waked with its presence in my trancèd brain
The stings of a known sorrow, keen and cold;
I knew that ship bore Cythna o’er the plain
Of waters, to her blighting slavery sold,
And watched it with such thoughts as must remain untold.
XVIII
I watched until the shades of evening wrapped
Earth like an exhalation; then the bark
Moved, for that calm was by the sunset snapped.
It moved a speck upon the Ocean dark;
Soon the wan stars came forth, and I could mark
Its path no more! I sought to close mine eyes,
But, like the balls, their lids were stiff and stark;
I would have risen, but ere that I could rise
My parchèd skin was split with piercing agonies.
XIX
I gnawed my brazen chain, and sought to sever
Its adamantine links, that I might die.
O Liberty! forgive the base endeavor,
Forgive me, if, reserved for victory,
The Champion of thy faith e’er sought to fly!
That starry night, with its clear silence, sent
Tameless resolve which laughed at misery
Into my soul — linkèd remembrance lent
To that such power, to me such a severe content.
XX
To breathe, to be, to hope, or to despair
And die, I questioned not; nor, though the Sun,
Its shafts of agony kindling through the air,
Moved over me, nor though in evening dun,
Or when the stars their visible courses run,
Or morning, the wide universe was spread
In dreary calmness round me, did I shun
Its presence, nor seek refuge with the dead
From one faint hope whose flower a dropping poison shed.
XXI
Two days thus passed — I neither raved nor died;
Thirst raged within me, like a scorpion’s nest
Built in mine entrails; I had spurned aside
The water-vessel, while despair possessed
My thoughts, and now no drop remained. The uprest
Of the third sun brought hunger — but the crust
Which had been left was to my craving breast
Fuel, not food. I chewed the bitter dust,
And bit my bloodless arm, and licked the brazen rust.
XXII
My brain began to fail when the fourth morn
Burst o’er the golden isles. A fearful sleep,
Which through the caverns dreary and forlorn
Of the riven soul sent its foul dreams to sweep
With whirlwind swiftness — a fall far and deep —
A gulf, a void, a sense of senselessness —
These things dwelt in me, even as shadows keep
Their watch in some dim charnel’s loneliness, —
A shoreless sea, a sky sunless and planetless!
XXIII
The forms which peopled this terrific trance
I well remember. Like a
choir of devils,
Around me they involved a giddy dance;
Legions seemed gathering from the misty levels
Of Ocean, to supply those ceaseless revels, —
Foul, ceaseless shadows; thought could not divide
The actual world from these entangling evils,
Which so bemocked themselves that I descried
All shapes like mine own self hideously multiplied.
XXIV
The sense of day and night, of false and true,
Was dead within me. Yet two visions burst
That darkness; one, as since that hour I knew,
Was not a phantom of the realms accursed,
Where then my spirit dwelt — but of the first
I know not yet, was it a dream or no;
But both, though not distincter, were immersed
In hues which, when through memory’s waste they flow,
Make their divided streams more bright and rapid now.
XXV
Methought that grate was lifted, and the seven,
Who brought me thither, four stiff corpses bare,
And from the frieze to the four winds of Heaven
Hung them on high by the entangled hair;
Swarthy were three — the fourth was very fair;
As they retired, the golden moon upsprung,
And eagerly, out in the giddy air,
Leaning that I might eat, I stretched and clung
Over the shapeless depth in which those corpses hung.
XXVI
A woman’s shape, now lank and cold and blue,
The dwelling of the many-colored worm,
Hung there; the white and hollow cheek I drew
To my dry lips — What radiance did inform
Those horny eyes? whose was that withered form?
Alas, alas! it seemed that Cythna’s ghost
Laughed in those looks, and that the flesh was warm
Within my teeth! — a whirlwind keen as frost
Then in its sinking gulfs my sickening spirit tossed.
XXVII
Then seemed it that a tameless hurricane
Arose, and bore me in its dark career
Beyond the sun, beyond the stars that wane
On the verge of formless pace — it languished there,
And, dying, left a silence lone and drear,
More horrible than famine. In the deep
The shape of an old man did then appear,
Stately and beautiful; that dreadful sleep
His heavenly smiles dispersed, and I could wake and weep.
XXVIII
And, when the blinding tears had fallen, I saw
That column, and those corpses, and the moon,
And felt the poisonous tooth of hunger gnaw
My vitals; I rejoiced, as if the boon
Of senseless death would be accorded soon,
When from that stony gloom a voice arose,
Solemn and sweet as when low winds attune
Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 51