Like spangling gold, and purple shells engraven
With mystic legends by no mortal hand,
Left there when, thronging to the moon’s command,
The gathering waves rent the Hesperian gate
Of mountains; and on such bright floor did stand
Columns, and shapes like statues, and the state
Of kingless thrones, which Earth did in her heart create.
XIV
‘The fiend of madness which had made its prey
Of my poor heart was lulled to sleep awhile.
There was an interval of many a day;
And a sea-eagle brought me food the while,
Whose nest was built in that untrodden isle,
And who to be the jailer had been taught
Of that strange dungeon; as a friend whose smile
Like light and rest at morn and even is sought
That wild bird was to me, till madness misery brought: —
XV
‘The misery of a madness slow and creeping,
Which made the earth seem fire, the sea seem air,
And the white clouds of noon which oft were sleeping
In the blue heaven so beautiful and fair,
Like hosts of ghastly shadows hovering there;
And the sea-eagle looked a fiend who bore
Thy mangled limbs for food! — thus all things were
Transformed into the agony which I wore
Even as a poisoned robe around my bosom’s core.
XVI
‘Again I knew the day and night fast fleeing,
The eagle and the fountain and the air;
Another frenzy came — there seemed a being
Within me — a strange load my heart did bear,
As if some living thing had made its lair
Even in the fountains of my life; — a long
And wondrous vision wrought from my despair,
Then grew, like sweet reality among
Dim visionary woes, an unreposing throng.
XVII
‘Methought I was about to be a mother.
Month after month went by, and still I dreamed
That we should soon be all to one another,
I and my child; and still new pulses seemed
To beat beside my heart, and still I deemed
There was a babe within — and when the rain
Of winter through the rifted cavern streamed,
Methought, after a lapse of lingering pain,
I saw that lovely shape which near my heart had lain.
XVIII
‘It was a babe, beautiful from its birth, —
It was like thee, dear love! its eyes were thine,
Its brow, its lips, and so upon the earth
It laid its fingers as now rest on mine
Thine own, belovèd!—’t was a dream divine;
Even to remember how it fled, how swift,
How utterly, might make the heart repine, —
Though ‘t was a dream.’ — Then Cythna did uplift
Her looks on mine, as if some doubt she sought to shift —
XIX
A doubt which would not flee, a tenderness
Of questioning grief, a source of thronging tears;
Which having passed, as one whom sobs oppress
She spoke: ‘Yes, in the wilderness of years
Her memory aye like a green home appears.
She sucked her fill even at this breast, sweet love,
For many months. I had no mortal fears;
Methought I felt her lips and breath approve
It was a human thing which to my bosom clove.
XX
‘I watched the dawn of her first smiles; and soon
When zenith stars were trembling on the wave,
Or when the beams of the invisible moon
Or sun from many a prism within the cave
Their gem-born shadows to the water gave,
Her looks would hunt them, and with outspread hand,
From the swift lights which might that fountain pave,
She would mark one, and laugh when, that command
Slighting, it lingered there, and could not understand.
XXI
‘Methought her looks began to talk with me;
And no articulate sounds, but something sweet
Her lips would frame, — so sweet it could not be
That it was meaningless; her touch would meet
Mine, and our pulses calmly flow and beat
In response while we slept; and, on a day
When I was happiest in that strange retreat,
With heaps of golden shells we two did play —
Both infants, weaving wings for time’s perpetual way.
XXII
‘Ere night, methought, her waning eyes were grown
Weary with joy — and, tired with our delight,
We, on the earth, like sister twins lay down
On one fair mother’s bosom: — from that night
She fled, — like those illusions clear and bright,
Which dwell in lakes, when the red moon on high
Pause ere it wakens tempest; and her flight,
Though ‘t was the death of brainless fantasy,
Yet smote my lonesome heart more than all misery.
XXIII
‘It seemed that in the dreary night the diver
Who brought me thither came again, and bore
My child away. I saw the waters quiver,
When he so swiftly sunk, as once before;
Then morning came — it shone even as of yore,
But I was changed — the very life was gone
Out of my heart — I wasted more and more,
Day after day, and, sitting there alone,
Vexed the inconstant waves with my perpetual moan.
XXIV
‘I was no longer mad, and yet methought
My breasts were swoln and changed: — in every vein
The blood stood still one moment, while that thought
Was passing — with a gush of sickening pain
It ebbed even to its withered springs again;
When my wan eyes in stern resolve I turned
From that most strange delusion, which would fain
Have waked the dream for which my spirit yearned
With more than human love, — then left it unreturned.
XXV
‘So now my reason was restored to me
I struggled with that dream, which like a beast
Most fierce and beauteous in my memory
Had made its lair, and on my heart did feast;
But all that cave and all its shapes, possessed
By thoughts which could not fade, renewed each one
Some smile, some look, some gesture which had blessed
Me heretofore; I, sitting there alone,
Vexed the inconstant waves with my perpetual moan.
XXVI
‘Time passed, I know not whether months or years;
For day, nor night, nor change of seasons made
Its note, but thoughts and unavailing tears;
And I became at last even as a shade,
A smoke, a cloud on which the winds have preyed,
Till it be thin as air; until, one even,
A Nautilus upon the fountain played,
Spreading his azure sail where breath of heaven
Descended not, among the waves and whirlpools driven.
XXVII
‘And when the Eagle came, that lovely thing,
Oaring with rosy feet its silver boat,
Fled near me as for shelter; on slow wing
The Eagle hovering o’er his prey did float;
But when he saw that I with fear did note
His purpose, proffering my own food to him,
The eager plumes subsided on his throat —
He came where that bright child of sea did swim,
And o’er it c
ast in peace his shadow broad and dim.
XXVIII
‘This wakened me, it gave me human strength;
And hope, I know not whence or wherefore, rose,
But I resumed my ancient powers at length;
My spirit felt again like one of those,
Like thine, whose fate it is to make the woes
Of humankind their prey. What was this cave?
Its deep foundation no firm purpose knows
Immutable, resistless, strong to save,
Like mind while yet it mocks the all-devouring grave.
XXIX
‘And where was Laon? might my heart be dead,
While that far dearer heart could move and be?
Or whilst over the earth the pall was spread
Which I had sworn to rend? I might be free,
Could I but win that friendly bird to me
To bring me ropes; and long in vain I sought
By intercourse of mutual imagery
Of objects if such aid he could be taught;
But fruit and flowers and boughs, yet never ropes he brought.
XXX
‘We live in our own world, and mine was made
From glorious fantasies of hope departed;
Aye we are darkened with their floating shade,
Or cast a lustre on them; time imparted
Such power to me — I became fearless-hearted,
My eye and voice grew firm, calm was my mind,
And piercing, like the morn, now it has darted
Its lustre on all hidden things behind
Yon dim and fading clouds which load the weary wind.
XXXI
‘My mind became the book through which I grew
Wise in all human wisdom, and its cave,
Which like a mine I rifled through and through,
To me the keeping of its secrets gave —
One mind, the type of all, the moveless wave
Whose calm reflects all moving things that are,
Necessity, and love, and life, the grave,
And sympathy, fountains of hope and fear,
Justice, and truth, and time, and the world’s natural sphere.
XXXII
‘And on the sand would I make signs to range
These woofs, as they were woven, of my thought;
Clear elemental shapes, whose smallest change
A subtler language within language wrought —
The key of truths which once were dimly taught
In old Crotona; and sweet melodies
Of love in that lorn solitude I caught
From mine own voice in dream, when thy dear eyes
Shone through my sleep, and did that utterance harmonize.
XXXIII
‘Thy songs were winds whereon I fled at will,
As in a wingèd chariot, o’er the plain
Of crystal youth; and thou wert there to fill
My heart with joy, and there we sate again
On the gray margin of the glimmering main,
Happy as then but wiser far, for we
Smiled on the flowery grave in which were lain
Fear, Faith and Slavery: and mankind was free,
Equal, and pure, and wise, in Wisdom’s prophecy.
XXXIV
‘For to my will my fancies were as slaves
To do their sweet and subtle ministries;
And oft from that bright fountain’s shadowy waves
They would make human throngs gather and rise
To combat with my overflowing eyes
And voice made deep with passion; — thus I grew
Familiar with the shock and the surprise
And war of earthly minds, from which I drew
The power which has been mine to frame their thoughts anew.
XXXV
‘And thus my prison was the populous earth,
Where I saw — even as misery dreams of morn
Before the east has given its glory birth —
Religion’s pomp made desolate by the scorn
Of Wisdom’s faintest smile, and thrones uptorn,
And dwellings of mild people interspersed
With undivided fields of ripening corn,
And love made free — a hope which we have nursed
Even with our blood and tears, — until its glory burst.
XXXVI
‘All is not lost! There is some recompense
For hope whose fountain can be thus profound, —
Even thronèd Evil’s splendid impotence
Girt by its hell of power, the secret sound
Of hymns to truth and freedom, the dread bound
Of life and death passed fearlessly and well,
Dungeons wherein the high resolve is found,
Racks which degraded woman’s greatness tell,
And what may else be good and irresistible.
XXXVII
‘Such are the thoughts which, like the fires that flare
In storm-encompassed isles, we cherish yet
In this dark ruin — such were mine even there;
As in its sleep some odorous violet,
While yet its leaves with nightly dews are wet,
Breathes in prophetic dreams of day’s uprise,
Or as, ere Scythian frost in fear has met
Spring’s messengers descending from the skies,
The buds foreknow their life — this hope must ever rise.
XXXVIII
‘So years had passed, when sudden earthquake rent
The depth of Ocean, and the cavern cracked
With sound, as if the world’s wide continent
Had fallen in universal ruin wracked,
And through the cleft streamed in one cataract
The stifling waters: — when I woke, the flood
Whose banded waves that crystal cave had sacked
Was ebbing round me, and my bright abode
Before me yawned — a chasm desert, and bare, and broad.
XXXIX
‘Above me was the sky, beneath the sea;
I stood upon a point of shattered stone,
And heard loose rocks rushing tumultuously
With splash and shock into the deep — anon
All ceased, and there was silence wide and lone.
I felt that I was free! The Ocean spray
Quivered beneath my feet, the broad Heaven shone
Around, and in my hair the winds did play
Lingering as they pursued their unimpeded way.
XL
‘My spirit moved upon the sea like wind
Which round some thymy cape will lag and hover,
Though it can wake the still cloud, and unbind
The strength of tempest. Day was almost over,
When through the fading light I could discover
A ship approaching — its white sails were fed
With the north wind — its moving shade did cover
The twilight deep; the mariners in dread
Cast anchor when they saw new rocks around them spread.
XLI
‘And when they saw one sitting on a crag,
They sent a boat to me; the sailors rowed
In awe through many a new and fearful jag
Of overhanging rock, through which there flowed
The foam of streams that cannot make abode.
They came and questioned me, but when they heard
My voice, they became silent, and they stood
And moved as men in whom new love had stirred
Deep thoughts; so to the ship we passed without a word.
REVOLT OF ISLAM: Canto Eighth
I
‘I SATE beside the steersman then, and gazing
Upon the west cried, “Spread the sails! behold!
The sinking moon is like a watch-tower blazing
Over the mountains yet; the City of Gold
Yon Cape alone does from the sight withhold;
The stre
am is fleet — the north breathes steadily
Beneath the stars; they tremble with the cold!
Ye cannot rest upon the dreary sea! —
Haste, haste to the warm home of happier destiny!”
II
‘The Mariners obeyed; the Captain stood
Aloof, and whispering to the Pilot said,
“Alas, alas! I fear we are pursued
By wicked ghosts; a Phantom of the Dead,
The night before we sailed, came to my bed
In dream, like that!” The Pilot then replied,
“It cannot be — she is a human maid —
Her low voice makes you weep — she is some bride,
Or daughter of high birth — she can be nought beside.”
III
‘We passed the islets, borne by wind and stream,
And as we sailed the Mariners came near
And thronged around to listen; in the gleam
Of the pale moon I stood, as one whom fear
May not attaint, and my calm voice did rear:
“Ye are all human — yon broad moon gives light
To millions who the self-same likeness wear,
Even while I speak — beneath this very night,
Their thoughts flow on like ours, in sadness or delight.
IV
‘“What dream ye? Your own hands have built an home
Even for yourselves on a belovèd shore;
For some, fond eyes are pining till they come —
How they will greet him when his toils are o’er,
And laughing babes rush from the well-known door!
Is this your care? ye toil for your own good —
Ye feel and think — has some immortal power
Such purposes? or in a human mood
Dream ye some Power thus builds for man in solitude?
V
‘“What is that Power? Ye mock yourselves, and give
A human heart to what ye cannot know:
As if the cause of life could think and live!
‘T were as if man’s own works should feel, and show
The hopes and fears and thoughts from which they flow,
And he be like to them. Lo! Plague is free
To waste, Blight, Poison, Earthquake, Hail, and Snow,
Disease, and Want, and worse Necessity
Of hate and ill, and Pride, and Fear, and Tyranny.
VI
‘“What is that Power? Some moonstruck sophist stood,
Watching the shade from his own soul upthrown
Fill Heaven and darken Earth, and in such mood
The Form he saw and worshipped was his own,
His likeness in the world’s vast mirror shown;
And ‘t were an innocent dream, but that a faith
Nursed by fear’s dew of poison grows thereon,
And that men say that Power has chosen Death
On all who scorn its laws to wreak immortal wrath.
VII
Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 57