Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

4. Be hush'd my dark spirit! for wisdom condemns,

When the faint and the feeble deplore ;

Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stems

A thousand wild waves on the shore!

Through the perils of chance, and the scowl of disdain,
May thy front be unalter'd, thy courage elate;
Yea! even the name I have worshipp'd in vain,
Shall awake not the sigh of remembrance again;
To bear is to conquer our fate.

SECTION II.

Apostrophe to Mount Parnassus.

1. O THOU Parnassus! whom I now survey,
Not in the phrensy of a dreamer's eye,
Not in the fabled landscape of a lay,

Campbell.

But soaring, snow-clad, through thy native sky,
In the wild pomp of mountain majesty!
What marvel that I thus essay to sing?

The humblest of thy pilgrims, passing by,
Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his string,

Though from thy heights no more one Muse shall wave her wing.

2. Oft have I dreamed of thee!-whose glorious name
Who knows not, knows not man's divinest lore ;-

And now I view thee, 'tis, alas! with shame
That I, in feeblest accents, must adore.
When I recount thy worshippers of yore,

I tremble, and can only bend the knee;

Nor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar,
But gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy

Ja silent joy, to think at last I look on thee!

3. Happier in this than mightiest bards have been,
Whose fate to distant homes confined their lot,
Shall I, unmoved, behold the hallowed scene
Which others rave of, though they know it not?
Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot,
And thou, the Muses' seat, art now their grave,
Some gentle spirit still pervades the spot,
Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave,
Or glides, with glassy foot, o'er yon melodious wave.

Byron

SECTION III.

The Ocean.

1. THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel,
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

2. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean-roll &
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore;-upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depth with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.

3. The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble in their capitals,-
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war,-
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into the yeast of waves, which mar
Alike th' Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

4. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee,
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts;-not so thou,

nangeable save to thy wild waves' play :Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow :Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

5. Thou glorious mirror, where th' Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convuls'd-in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark heaving.boundless, endless, and sublime

The image of Eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. Byron.

SECTION IV.

The Sacking of Prague.

I. On! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceas'd awhile,
And Hope, thy sister, ceas'd with thee to smile,
When leagu'd Oppression pour'd to Northern wars
Her whisker'd panders and her fierce hussars,
Way'd her dread standard to the breeze of morn,
Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn;
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,
Presaging wrath to Poland--and to man!

2. Warsaw's last champion from her height survey'd, Wide o'er the fields a waste of ruin laid,

Oh! Heav'n, he cried, my bleeding country save!
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweeps these lovely plains,
Rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains!
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,.
And swear for her to live!-with her to die!-

[ocr errors]

3. He said, and on the rampart heights array'd
His trusty warriors, few but undismay'd;
Firm plac'd and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
Low, murm'ring sounds along their banners fly,
Revenge, or death-the watchword and reply ;-
Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm!--

4. In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!
From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew ;
Oh bloodiest picture in the Book of Time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime,-
Found not a gen'rous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo!
Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear,
Clos'd her bright eye, and curb'd her high career;
Hope, for a scason, bade the world farewell;
And freedom shrieked-as Kosciusko fell!

5. The sun went down, nor ceas'd the carnage there, Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air;

On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dy'd waters murm'ring far below;
The storm prevails, the rampart yields away,
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay!
Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall,
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call!
Earth shook, red meteors flash'd along the sky,
And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry!

6. Oh! righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave,
Why slept the sword Omnipotent to save?
Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God,-
That crush'd proud Ammon, when his iron car
Was yok'd in wrath, and thunder'd from afar?
Where was the storm that slumber'd till the host
Of blood-stain'd Pharaoh left their trembling coast?
Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow,
And heav'd an ocean on their march below!

7. Departed spirits of the mighty dead!
Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!
Friends of the world! restore your swords to man,
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van!

Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone,
And make her arm puissant as your own!
Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return,
The Patriot Tell-the Bruce of Bannockburn!

8. Yes! thy proud lords, unpitied land! shall see
That man hath yet a soul-and dare be free!
A little while, along thy sadd'ning plains,
The starless night of desolation reigns;
Truth shall restore the light by Nature giv'n,
And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heav'n!
Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurl'd,--
Her name, her nature, wither'd from the world!

SECTION V.

The Greek and the Turkman.

Campbell.

1. THE Turkman lay beside the river; The wind played loose through bow and quiver;

The charger on the bank fed free;

The shield hung glittering from the tree:

The trumpet, shawm, and attabal,

Were hid from dew by cloak and r

For long and weary was the way
The hordes had march'd that burning day.

2. Above them, on the sky of June,
Broad as a buckler, glow'd the moon,
Flooding with glory vale and hill;
In silver sprang the mountain rill
The weeping shrub in silver bent;
A pile of silver stood the tent:
All soundless, sweet tranquillity,
All beauty, hill, and tent, and tree.

[ocr errors]

3. There came a sound-'twas like the gush When night winds shake the rose's bush; There came a sound-'twas like the flow Of rivers swell'd with melting snow; There came a sound-'twas like the tread Of wolves along the valley's bed; There came a sound-'twas like the roar Of ocean on its winter shore.

4. "Death to the Turk!" uprose the yell; On rolled the charge-a thunder peal: The Tartan arrows fell like rain,

They clank'd on helm, on mail, on chain;
In blood, in hate, in death, were twin'd
Savage and Greek, mad, bleeding, blind;
And still on flank, on front, and rear,
Rag'd, Constantine, thy thirstiest spear!

5. Brassy and pale, a type of doom, Labor'd the moon, through deep'ning gloom; Down plung'd her orb-'twas pitchy night :Now Turkman, turn thy reins for flight! On rush'd their thousands through the dark; But in their camp a ruddy spark,

Like an uncertain meteor, reel'd:

Thy hand, brave king, that firebrand wheel'd!
6. Wild burst the burning element
O'er man and courser, flag and tent;
And through the blaze the Greeks outsprang,
Like tigers, bloody, foot and fang,
With dagger's stab and falchion's sweep,
Delving the stunn'd and staggering heap,
Till lay the slave by chief and Khan,
And all was gore that once was man.

7. There's wailing on the Euxine shoreHer chivalry shall ride no more.

« AnteriorContinuar »