Percy Bysshe Shelley

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  The likeness of a shape for which was braided

  The brightest woof of genius still was seen —

  One who, methought, had gone from the world’s scene,

  And left it vacant—’t was her lover’s face —

  It might resemble her — it once had been

  The mirror of her thoughts, and still the grace

  Which her mind’s shadow cast left there a lingering trace.

  XXXI

  What then was I? She slumbered with the dead.

  Glory and joy and peace had come and gone.

  Doth the cloud perish when the beams are fled

  Which steeped its skirts in gold? or, dark and lone,

  Doth it not through the paths of night unknown,

  On outspread wings of its own wind upborne,

  Pour rain upon the earth? the stars are shown,

  When the cold moon sharpens her silver horn

  Under the sea, and make the wide night not forlorn.

  XXXII

  Strengthened in heart, yet sad, that aged man

  I left, with interchange of looks and tears

  And lingering speech, and to the Camp began

  My war. O’er many a mountain-chain which rears

  Its hundred crests aloft my spirit bears

  My frame, o’er many a dale and many a moor;

  And gayly now meseems serene earth wears

  The blosmy spring’s star-bright investiture, —

  A vision which aught sad from sadness might allure.

  XXXIII

  My powers revived within me, and I went,

  As one whom winds waft o’er the bending grass,

  Through many a vale of that broad continent.

  At night when I reposed, fair dreams did pass

  Before my pillow; my own Cythna was,

  Not like a child of death, among them ever;

  When I arose from rest, a woful mass

  That gentlest sleep seemed from my life to sever,

  As if the light of youth were not withdrawn forever.

  XXXIV

  Aye as I went, that maiden who had reared

  The torch of Truth afar, of whose high deeds

  The Hermit in his pilgrimage had heard,

  Haunted my thoughts. Ah, Hope its sickness feeds

  With whatsoe’er it finds, or flowers or weeds!

  Could she be Cythna? Was that corpse a shade

  Such as self-torturing thought from madness breeds?

  Why was this hope not torture? Yet it made

  A light around my step which would not ever fade.

  REVOLT OF ISLAM: Canto Fifth

  I

  OVER the utmost hill at length I sped,

  A snowy steep: — the moon was hanging low

  Over the Asian mountains, and, outspread

  The plain, the City, and the Camp below,

  Skirted the midnight Ocean’s glimmering flow;

  The City’s moon-lit spires and myriad lamps

  Like stars in a sublunar sky did glow,

  And fires blazed far amid the scattered camps,

  Like springs of flame which burst where’er swift Earthquake stamps.

  II

  All slept but those in watchful arms who stood,

  And those who sate tending the beacon’s light;

  And the few sounds from that vast multitude

  Made silence more profound. Oh, what a might

  Of human thought was cradled in that night!

  How many hearts impenetrably veiled

  Beat underneath its shade! what secret fight

  Evil and Good, in woven passions mailed,

  Waged through that silent throng — a war that never failed!

  III

  And now the Power of Good held victory.

  So, through the labyrinth of many a tent,

  Among the silent millions who did lie

  In innocent sleep, exultingly I went.

  The moon had left Heaven desert now, but lent

  From eastern morn the first faint lustre showed

  An armèd youth; over his spear he bent

  His downward face:—’A friend!’ I cried aloud,

  And quickly common hopes made freemen understood.

  IV

  I sate beside him while the morning beam

  Crept slowly over Heaven, and talked with him

  Of those immortal hopes, a glorious theme,

  Which led us forth, until the stars grew dim;

  And all the while methought his voice did swim,

  As if it drownèd in remembrance were

  Of thoughts which make the moist eyes overbrim;

  At last, when daylight ‘gan to fill the air,

  He looked on me, and cried in wonder, ‘Thou art here!’

  V

  Then, suddenly, I knew it was the youth

  In whom its earliest hopes my spirit found;

  But envious tongues had stained his spotless truth,

  And thoughtless pride his love in silence bound,

  And shame and sorrow mine in toils had wound,

  Whilst he was innocent, and I deluded;

  The truth now came upon me — on the ground

  Tears of repenting joy, which fast intruded,

  Fell fast — and o’er its peace our mingling spirits brooded.

  VI

  Thus, while with rapid lips and earnest eyes

  We talked, a sound of sweeping conflict, spread

  As from the earth, did suddenly arise.

  From every tent, roused by that clamor dread,

  Our bands outsprung and seized their arms; we sped

  Towards the sound; our tribes were gathering far.

  Those sanguine slaves, amid ten thousand dead

  Stabbed in their sleep, trampled in treacherous war

  The gentle hearts whose power their lives had sought to spare.

  VII

  Like rabid snakes that sting some gentle child

  Who brings them food when winter false and fair

  Allures them forth with its cold smiles, so wild

  They rage among the camp; they overbear

  The patriot hosts — confusion, then despair,

  Descends like night — when ‘Laon!’ one did cry;

  Like a bright ghost from Heaven that shout did scare

  The slaves, and, widening through the vaulted sky,

  Seemed sent from Earth to Heaven in sign of victory.

  VIII

  In sudden panic those false murderers fled,

  Like insect tribes before the northern gale;

  But swifter still our hosts encompassèd

  Their shattered ranks, and in a craggy vale,

  Where even their fierce despair might nought avail,

  Hemmed them around! — and then revenge and fear

  Made the high virtue of the patriots fail;

  One pointed on his foe the mortal spear —

  I rushed before its point, and cried ‘Forbear, forbear!’

  IX

  The spear transfixed my arm that was uplifted

  In swift expostulation, and the blood

  Gushed round its point; I smiled, and—’Oh! thou gifted

  With eloquence which shall not be withstood,

  Flow thus!’ I cried in joy, ‘thou vital flood,

  Until my heart be dry, ere thus the cause

  For which thou wert aught worthy be subdued! —

  Ah, ye are pale — ye weep — your passions pause —

  ‘T is well! ye feel the truth of love’s benignant laws.

  X

  ‘Soldiers, our brethren and our friends are slain;

  Ye murdered them, I think, as they did sleep!

  Alas, what have ye done? The slightest pain

  Which ye might suffer, there were eyes to weep,

  But ye have quenched them — there were smiles to steep

  Your hearts in balm, but they are lost in woe;

  And those whom love d
id set his watch to keep

  Around your tents truth’s freedom to bestow,

  Ye stabbed as they did sleep — but they forgive ye now.

  XI

  ‘Oh, wherefore should ill ever flow from ill,

  And pain still keener pain forever breed?

  We all are brethren — even the slaves who kill

  For hire are men; and to avenge misdeed

  On the misdoer doth but Misery feed

  With her own broken heart! O Earth, O Heaven!

  And thou, dread Nature, which to every deed

  And all that lives, or is, to be hath given,

  Even as to thee have these done ill, and are forgiven.

  XII

  ‘Join then your hands and hearts, and let the past

  Be as a grave which gives not up its dead

  To evil thoughts.’ — A film then overcast

  My sense with dimness, for the wound, which bled

  Freshly, swift shadows o’er mine eyes had shed.

  When I awoke, I lay ‘mid friends and foes,

  And earnest countenances on me shed

  The light of questioning looks, whilst one did close

  My wound with balmiest herbs, and soothed me to repose;

  XIII

  And one, whose spear had pierced me, leaned beside

  With quivering lips and humid eyes; and all

  Seemed like some brothers on a journey wide

  Gone forth, whom now strange meeting did befall

  In a strange land round one whom they might call

  Their friend, their chief, their father, for assay

  Of peril, which had saved them from the thrall

  Of death, now suffering. Thus the vast array

  Of those fraternal bands were reconciled that day.

  XIV

  Lifting the thunder of their acclamation,

  Towards the City then the multitude,

  And I among them, went in joy — a nation

  Made free by love; a mighty brotherhood

  Linked by a jealous interchange of good;

  A glorious pageant, more magnificent

  Than kingly slaves arrayed in gold and blood,

  When they return from carnage, and are sent

  In triumph bright beneath the populous battlement.

  XV

  Afar, the City walls were thronged on high,

  And myriads on each giddy turret clung,

  And to each spire far lessening in the sky

  Bright pennons on the idle winds were hung;

  As we approached, a shout of joyance sprung

  At once from all the crowd, as if the vast

  And peopled Earth its boundless skies among

  The sudden clamor of delight had cast,

  When from before its face some general wreck had passed.

  XVI

  Our armies through the City’s hundred gates

  Were poured, like brooks which to the rocky lair

  Of some deep lake, whose silence them awaits,

  Throng from the mountains when the storms are there;

  And, as we passed through the calm sunny air,

  A thousand flower-inwoven crowns were shed,

  The token-flowers of truth and freedom fair,

  And fairest hands bound them on many a head,

  Those angels of love’s heaven that over all was spread.

  XVII

  I trod as one tranced in some rapturous vision;

  Those bloody bands so lately reconciled,

  Were ever, as they went, by the contrition

  Of anger turned to love, from ill beguiled,

  And every one on them more gently smiled

  Because they had done evil; the sweet awe

  Of such mild looks made their own hearts grow mild,

  And did with soft attraction ever draw

  Their spirits to the love of freedom’s equal law.

  XVIII

  And they, and all, in one loud symphony

  My name with Liberty commingling lifted —

  ‘The friend and the preserver of the free!

  The parent of this joy!’ and fair eyes, gifted

  With feelings caught from one who had uplifted

  The light of a great spirit, round me shone;

  And all the shapes of this grand scenery shifted

  Like restless clouds before the steadfast sun.

  Where was that Maid? I asked, but it was known of none.

  XIX

  Laone was the name her love had chosen,

  For she was nameless, and her birth none knew.

  Where was Laone now? — The words were frozen

  Within my lips with fear; but to subdue

  Such dreadful hope to my great task was due,

  And when at length one brought reply that she

  To-morrow would appear, I then withdrew

  To judge what need for that great throng might be,

  For now the stars came thick over the twilight sea.

  XX

  Yet need was none for rest or food to care,

  Even though that multitude was passing great,

  Since each one for the other did prepare

  All kindly succor. Therefore to the gate

  Of the Imperial House, now desolate,

  I passed, and there was found aghast, alone,

  The fallen Tyrant! — silently he sate

  Upon the footstool of his golden throne,

  Which, starred with sunny gems, in its own lustre shone.

  XXI

  Alone, but for one child who led before him

  A graceful dance — the only living thing,

  Of all the crowd, which thither to adore him

  Flocked yesterday, who solace sought to bring

  In his abandonment; she knew the King

  Had praised her dance of yore, and now she wove

  Its circles, aye weeping and murmuring,

  ‘Mid her sad task of unregarded love,

  That to no smiles it might his speechless sadness move.

  XXII

  She fled to him, and wildly clasped his feet

  When human steps were heard; he moved nor spoke,

  Nor changed his hue, nor raised his looks to meet

  The gaze of strangers. Our loud entrance woke

  The echoes of the hall, which circling broke

  The calm of its recesses; like a tomb

  Its sculptured walls vacantly to the stroke

  Of footfalls answered, and the twilight’s gloom

  Lay like a charnel’s mist within the radiant dome.

  XXIII

  The little child stood up when we came nigh;

  Her lips and cheeks seemed very pale and wan,

  But on her forehead and within her eye

  Lay beauty which makes hearts that feed thereon

  Sick with excess of sweetness; on the throne

  She leaned; the King, with gathered brow and lips

  Wreathed by long scorn, did inly sneer and frown,

  With hue like that when some great painter dips

  His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.

  XXIV

  She stood beside him like a rainbow braided

  Within some storm, when scarce its shadows vast

  From the blue paths of the swift sun have faded;

  A sweet and solemn smile, like Cythna’s, cast

  One moment’s light, which made my heart beat fast,

  O’er that child’s parted lips — a gleam of bliss,

  A shade of vanished days; as the tears passed

  Which wrapped it, even as with a father’s kiss

  I pressed those softest eyes in trembling tenderness.

  XXV

  The sceptred wretch then from that solitude

  I drew, and, of his change compassionate,

  With words of sadness soothed his rugged mood.

  But he, while pride and fear held deep debate,

  With sullen guile of il
l-dissembled hate

  Glared on me as a toothless snake might glare;

  Pity, not scorn, I felt, though desolate

  The desolator now, and unaware

  The curses which he mocked had caught him by the hair.

  XXVI

  I led him forth from that which now might seem

  A gorgeous grave; through portals sculptured deep

  With imagery beautiful as dream

  We went, and left the shades which tend on sleep

  Over its unregarded gold to keep

  Their silent watch. The child trod faintingly,

  And as she went, the tears which she did weep

  Glanced in the star-light; wilderèd seemed she,

  And, when I spake, for sobs she could not answer me.

  XXVII

  At last the Tyrant cried, ‘She hungers, slave!

  Stab her, or give her bread!’ — It was a tone

  Such as sick fancies in a new-made grave

  Might hear. I trembled, for the truth was known, —

  He with this child had thus been left alone,

  And neither had gone forth for food, but he

  In mingled pride and awe cowered near his throne,

  And she, a nursling of captivity,

  Knew nought beyond those walls, nor what such change might be.

  XXVIII

  And he was troubled at a charm withdrawn

  Thus suddenly — that sceptres ruled no more,

  That even from gold the dreadful strength was gone

  Which once made all things subject to its power;

  Such wonder seized him as if hour by hour

  The past had come again; and the swift fall

  Of one so great and terrible of yore

  To desolateness, in the hearts of all

  Like wonder stirred who saw such awful change befall.

  XXIX

  A mighty crowd, such as the wide land pours

  Once in a thousand years, now gathered round

  The fallen Tyrant; like the rush of showers

  Of hail in spring, pattering along the ground,

  Their many footsteps fell — else came no sound

  From the wide multitude; that lonely man

  Then knew the burden of his change, and found,

  Concealing in the dust his visage wan,

  Refuge from the keen looks which through his bosom ran.

  XXX

  And he was faint withal. I sate beside him

  Upon the earth, and took that child so fair

  From his weak arms, that ill might none betide him

  Or her; when food was brought to them, her share

  To his averted lips the child did bear,

  But, when she saw he had enough, she ate,

  And wept the while; the lonely man’s despair

  Hunger then overcame, and, of his state

  Forgetful, on the dust as in a trance he sate.

  XXXI

  Slowly the silence of the multitudes