Percy Bysshe Shelley

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  That fairest child, who, bold with love, alone

  Stood up before the king, without avail,

  Pleading for Laon’s life — her stifled groan

  Was heard — she trembled like one aspen pale

  Among the gloomy pines of a Norwegian vale.

  VII

  What were his thoughts linked in the morning sun,

  Among those reptiles, stingless with delay,

  Even like a tyrant’s wrath? — the signal-gun

  Roared — hark, again! in that dread pause he lay

  As in a quiet dream — the slaves obey —

  A thousand torches drop, — and hark, the last

  Bursts on that awful silence; far away

  Millions, with hearts that beat both loud and fast,

  Watch for the springing flame expectant and aghast.

  VIII

  They fly — the torches fall — a cry of fear

  Has startled the triumphant! — they recede!

  For, ere the cannon’s roar has died, they hear

  The tramp of hoofs like earthquake, and a steed

  Dark and gigantic, with the tempest’s speed,

  Bursts through their ranks; a woman sits thereon,

  Fairer it seems than aught that earth can breed,

  Calm, radiant, like the phantom of the dawn,

  A spirit from the caves of daylight wandering gone.

  IX

  All thought it was God’s Angel come to sweep

  The lingering guilty to their fiery grave;

  The Tyrant from his throne in dread did leap, —

  Her innocence his child from fear did save;

  Scared by the faith they feigned, each priestly slave

  Knelt for His mercy whom they served with blood,

  And, like the refluence of a mighty wave

  Sucked into the loud sea, the multitude

  With crushing panic fled in terror’s altered mood.

  X

  They pause, they blush, they gaze; a gathering shout

  Bursts like one sound from the ten thousand streams

  Of a tempestuous sea; that sudden rout

  One checked who never in his mildest dreams

  Felt awe from grace or loveliness, the seams

  Of his rent heart so hard and cold a creed

  Had seared with blistering ice; but he misdeems

  That he is wise whose wounds do only bleed

  Inly for self, — thus thought the Iberian Priest indeed,

  XI

  And others, too, thought he was wise to see

  In pain, and fear, and hate, something divine —

  In love and beauty, no divinity.

  Now with a bitter smile, whose light did shine

  Like a fiend’s hope upon his lips and eyne,

  He said, and the persuasion of that sneer

  Rallied his trembling comrades—’Is it mine

  To stand alone, when kings and soldiers fear

  A woman? Heaven has sent its other victim here.’

  XII

  ‘Were it not impious,’ said the King, ‘to break

  Our holy oath?’—’Impious to keep it, say!’

  Shrieked the exulting Priest:—’Slaves, to the stake

  Bind her, and on my head the burden lay

  Of her just torments; at the Judgment Day

  Will I stand up before the golden throne

  Of Heaven, and cry,—”To Thee did I betray

  An infidel! but for me she would have known

  Another moment’s joy!” the glory be thine own.’

  XIII

  They trembled, but replied not, nor obeyed,

  Pausing in breathless silence. Cythna sprung

  From her gigantic steed, who, like a shade

  Chased by the winds, those vacant streets among

  Fled tameless, as the brazen rein she flung

  Upon his neck, and kissed his moonèd brow.

  A piteous sight, that one so fair and young

  The clasp of such a fearful death should woo

  With smiles of tender joy as beamed from Cythna now.

  XIV

  The warm tears burst in spite of faith and fear

  From many a tremulous eye, but, like soft dews

  Which feed spring’s earliest buds, hung gathered there,

  Frozen by doubt, — alas! they could not choose

  But weep; for, when her faint limbs did refuse

  To climb the pyre, upon the mutes she smiled;

  And with her eloquent gestures, and the hues

  Of her quick lips, even as a weary child

  Wins sleep from some fond nurse with its caresses mild,

  XV

  She won them, though unwilling, her to bind

  Near me, among the snakes. When then had fled

  One soft reproach that was most thrilling kind,

  She smiled on me, and nothing then we said,

  But each upon the other’s countenance fed

  Looks of insatiate love; the mighty veil

  Which doth divide the living and the dead

  Was almost rent, the world grew dim and pale —

  All light in Heaven or Earth beside our love did fail.

  XVI

  Yet — yet — one brief relapse, like the last beam

  Of dying flames, the stainless air around

  Hung silent and serene — a blood-red gleam

  Burst upwards, hurling fiercely from the ground

  The globèd smoke; I heard the mighty sound

  Of its uprise, like a tempestuous ocean;

  And, through its chasms I saw, as in a swound,

  The Tyrant’s child fall without life or motion

  Before his throne, subdued by some unseen emotion. —

  XVII

  And is this death? — The pyre has disappeared,

  The Pestilence, the Tyrant, and the throng;

  The flames grow silent — slowly there is heard

  The music of a breath-suspending song,

  Which, like the kiss of love when life is young,

  Steeps the faint eyes in darkness sweet and deep;

  With ever-changing notes it floats along,

  Till on my passive soul there seemed to creep

  A melody, like waves on wrinkled sands that leap.

  XVIII

  The warm touch of a soft and tremulous hand

  Wakened me then; lo, Cythna sate reclined

  Beside me, on the waved and golden sand

  Of a clear pool, upon a bank o’ertwined

  With strange and star-bright flowers which to the wind

  Breathed divine odor; high above was spread

  The emerald heaven of trees of unknown kind,

  Whose moonlike blooms and bright fruit overhead

  A shadow, which was light, upon the waters shed.

  XIX

  And round about sloped many a lawny mountain

  With incense-bearing forests and vast caves

  Of marble radiance, to that mighty fountain;

  And, where the flood its own bright margin laves,

  Their echoes talk with its eternal waves,

  Which from the depths whose jagged caverns breed

  Their unreposing strife it lifts and heaves,

  Till through a chasm of hills they roll, and feed

  A river deep, which flies with smooth but arrowy speed.

  XX

  As we sate gazing in a trance of wonder,

  A boat approached, borne by the musical air

  Along the waves which sung and sparkled under

  Its rapid keel. A wingèd Shape sate there,

  A child with silver-shining wings, so fair

  That, as her bark did through the waters glide,

  The shadow of the lingering waves did wear

  Light, as from starry beams; from side to side

  While veering to the wind her plumes the bark did guide.

  XXI

  The boat was one curved s
hell of hollow pearl,

  Almost translucent with the light divine

  Of her within; the prow and stern did curl,

  Hornèd on high, like the young moon supine,

  When o’er dim twilight mountains dark with pine

  It floats upon the sunset’s sea of beams,

  Whose golden waves in many a purple line

  Fade fast, till, borne on sunlight’s ebbing streams,

  Dilating, on earth’s verge the sunken meteor gleams.

  XXII

  Its keel has struck the sands beside our feet.

  Then Cythna turned to me, and from her eyes,

  Which swam with unshed tears, a look more sweet

  Than happy love, a wild and glad surprise,

  Glanced as she spake: ‘Ay, this is Paradise

  And not a dream, and we are all united!

  Lo, that is mine own child, who in the guise

  Of madness came, like day to one benighted

  In lonesome woods; my heart is now too well requited!’

  XXIII

  And then she wept aloud, and in her arms

  Clasped that bright Shape, less marvellously fair

  Than her own human hues and living charms,

  Which, as she leaned in passion’s silence there,

  Breathed warmth on the cold bosom of the air,

  Which seemed to blush and tremble with delight;

  The glossy darkness of her streaming hair

  Fell o’er that snowy child, and wrapped from sight

  The fond and long embrace which did their hearts unite.

  XXIV

  Then the bright child, the plumèd Seraph, came,

  And fixed its blue and beaming eyes on mine,

  And said, ‘I was disturbed by tremulous shame

  When once we met, yet knew that I was thine

  From the same hour in which thy lips divine

  Kindled a clinging dream within my brain,

  Which ever waked when I might sleep, to twine

  Thine image with her memory dear; again

  We meet, exempted now from mortal fear or pain.

  XXV

  ‘When the consuming flames had wrapped ye round,

  The hope which I had cherished went away;

  I fell in agony on the senseless ground,

  And hid mine eyes in dust, and far astray

  My mind was gone, when bright, like dawning day,

  The Spectre of the Plague before me flew,

  And breathed upon my lips, and seemed to say,

  “They wait for thee, belovèd!” — then I knew

  The death-mark on my breast, and became calm anew.

  XXVI

  ‘It was the calm of love — for I was dying.

  I saw the black and half-extinguished pyre

  In its own gray and shrunken ashes lying;

  The pitchy smoke of the departed fire

  Still hung in many a hollow dome and spire

  Above the towers, like night, — beneath whose shade,

  Awed by the ending of their own desire,

  The armies stood; a vacancy was made

  In expectation’s depth, and so they stood dismayed.

  XXVII

  ‘The frightful silence of that altered mood

  The tortures of the dying clove alone,

  Till one uprose among the multitude,

  And said—”The flood of time is rolling on;

  We stand upon its brink, whilst they are gone

  To glide in peace down death’s mysterious stream.

  Have ye done well? they moulder, flesh and bone,

  Who might have made this life’s envenomed dream

  A sweeter draught than ye will ever taste, I deem.

  XXVIII

  ‘“These perish as the good and great of yore

  Have perished, and their murderers will repent;

  Yes, vain and barren tears shall flow before

  Yon smoke has faded from the firmament,

  Even for this cause, that ye, who must lament

  The death of those that made this world so fair,

  Cannot recall them now; but then is lent

  To man the wisdom of a high despair,

  When such can die, and he live on and linger here.

  XXIX

  ‘“Ay, ye may fear not now the Pestilence,

  From fabled hell as by a charm withdrawn;

  All power and faith must pass, since calmly hence

  In pain and fire have unbelievers gone;

  And ye must sadly turn away, and moan

  In secret, to his home each one returning;

  And to long ages shall this hour be known,

  And slowly shall its memory, ever burning,

  Fill this dark night of things with an eternal morning.

  XXX

  ‘“For me that world is grown too void and cold,

  Since hope pursues immortal destiny

  With steps thus slow — therefore shall ye behold

  How those who love, yet fear not, dare to die;

  Tell to your children this!” then suddenly

  He sheathed a dagger in his heart, and fell;

  My brain grew dark in death, and yet to me

  There came a murmur from the crowd to tell

  Of deep and mighty change which suddenly befell.

  XXXI

  ‘Then suddenly I stood, a wingèd Thought,

  Before the immortal Senate, and the seat

  Of that star-shining Spirit, whence is wrought

  The strength of its dominion, good and great,

  The Better Genius of this world’s estate.

  His realm around one mighty Fane is spread,

  Elysian islands bright and fortunate,

  Calm dwellings of the free and happy dead,

  Where I am sent to lead!’ These wingèd words she said,

  XXXII

  And with the silence of her eloquent smile,

  Bade us embark in her divine canoe;

  Then at the helm we took our seat, the while

  Above her head those plumes of dazzling hue

  Into the winds’ invisible stream she threw,

  Sitting beside the prow; like gossamer

  On the swift breath of morn the vessel flew

  O’er the bright whirlpools of that fountain fair,

  Whose shores receded fast while we seemed lingering there;

  XXXIII

  Till down that mighty stream dark, calm and fleet,

  Between a chasm of cedarn mountains riven,

  Chased by the thronging winds whose viewless feet,

  As swift as twinkling beams, had under Heaven

  From woods and waves wild sounds and odors driven,

  The boat fled visibly; three nights and days,

  Borne like a cloud through morn, and noon, and even,

  We sailed along the winding watery ways

  Of the vast stream, a long and labyrinthine maze.

  XXXIV

  A scene of joy and wonder to behold, —

  That river’s shapes and shadows changing ever,

  Where the broad sunrise filled with deepening gold

  Its whirlpools where all hues did spread and quiver;

  And where melodious falls did burst and shiver

  Among rocks clad with flowers, the foam and spray

  Sparkled like stars upon the sunny river;

  Or, when the moonlight poured a holier day,

  One vast and glittering lake around green islands lay.

  XXXV

  Morn, noon and even, that boat of pearl outran

  The streams which bore it, like the arrowy cloud

  Of tempest, or the speedier thought of man,

  Which flieth forth and cannot make abode;

  Sometimes through forests, deep like night, we glode,

  Between the walls of mighty mountains crowned

  With Cyclopean piles, whose turrets proud,

  The homes of the departed, dim
ly frowned

  O’er the bright waves which girt their dark foundations round.

  XXXVI

  Sometimes between the wide and flowering meadows

  Mile after mile we sailed, and ‘t was delight

  To see far off the sunbeams chase the shadows

  Over the grass; sometimes beneath the night

  Of wide and vaulted caves, whose roofs were bright

  With starry gems, we fled, whilst from their deep

  And dark green chasms shades beautiful and white,

  Amid sweet sounds across our path would sweep,

  Like swift and lovely dreams that walk the waves of sleep.

  XXXVII

  And ever as we sailed, our minds were full

  Of love and wisdom, which would overflow

  In converse wild, and sweet, and wonderful;

  And in quick smiles whose light would come and go,

  Like music o’er wide waves, and in the flow

  Of sudden tears, and in the mute caress;

  For a deep shade was cleft, and we did know,

  That virtue, though obscured on Earth, not less

  Survives all mortal change in lasting loveliness.

  XXXVIII

  Three days and nights we sailed, as thought and feeling

  Number delightful hours — for through the sky

  The spherèd lamps of day and night, revealing

  New changes and new glories, rolled on high,

  Sun, Moon and moonlike lamps, the progeny

  Of a diviner Heaven, serene and fair;

  On the fourth day, wild as a wind-wrought sea

  The stream became, and fast and faster bare

  The spirit-wingèd boat, steadily speeding there.

  XXXIX

  Steady and swift, where the waves rolled like mountains

  Within the vast ravine, whose rifts did pour

  Tumultuous floods from their ten thousand fountains,

  The thunder of whose earth-uplifting roar

  Made the air sweep in whirlwinds from the shore,

  Calm as a shade, the boat of that fair child

  Securely fled that rapid stress before,

  Amid the topmost spray and sunbows wild

  Wreathed in the silver mist; in joy and pride we smiled.

  XL

  The torrent of that wide and raging river

  Is passed, and our aërial speed suspended.

  We look behind; a golden mist did quiver

  When its wild surges with the lake were blended;

  Our bark hung there, as on a line suspended

  Between two heavens, — that windless, waveless lake,

  Which four great cataracts from four vales, attended

  By mists, aye feed; from rocks and clouds they break,

  And of that azure sea a silent refuge make.

  XLI

  Motionless resting on the lake awhile,

  I saw its marge of snow-bright mountains rear

  Their peaks aloft; I saw each radiant isle;