XXXV.

"Alas, our thoughts flow on with stream, whose

waters

Return not to their fountain--Earth and Heaven, The Ocean and the Sun, the clouds their daughters, Winter, and Spring, and Morn, and Noon, and Even, All that we are or know, is darkly driven Towards one gulf-Lo! what a change is come Since I first spake-but time shall be forgiven, Though it change all but thee!"-She ceased: night's gloom

Meanwhile had fallen on earth from the sky's sunless dome.

XXXVI.

Though she had ceased, her countenance uplifted To Heaven, still spake, with solemn glory bright; Her dark deep eyes, her lips, whose motions gifted The air they breathed with love, her locks undight; "Fair star of life and love!" I cried, "my soul's delight!

Why lookest thou on the crystalline skies? O, that my spirit were yon Heaven of night, Which gazes on thee with its thousand eyes!" She turn'd to me and smiled-that smile was Paradise!

CANTO X.

I.

WAS there a human spirit in the steed,

That thus with his proud voice, ere night was gone, He broke our linked rest? or do indeed All living things a common nature own, And thought erect a universal throne, Where many shapes one tribute ever bear? And Earth, their mutual mother, does she groan To see her sons contend? and makes she bare Her breast, that all in peace its drainless stores may share?

II.

I have heard friendly sounds from many a tongue, Which was not human-the lone Nightingale Has answer'd me with her most soothing song, Out of her ivy bower, when I sate pale With grief, and sigh'd beneath; from many a dale The Antelopes who flock'd for food have spoken With happy sounds, and motions, that avail Like man's own speech; and such was now the token Of waning night, whose calm by that proud neigh was broken.

III.

Each night, that mighty steed bore me abroad, And I return'd with food to our retreat, And dark intelligence; the blood which flow'd Over the fields, had stain'd the courser's feet;Soon the dust drinks that bitter dew,-then meet The vulture, and the wild-dog, and the snake, The wolf, and the hyena gray, and eat The dead in horrid truce: their throngs did make Behind the steed, a chasm like waves in a ship's wake.

IV.

For, from the utmost realms of earth, came pouring The banded slaves whom every despot sent At that throned traitor's summons; like the roaring Of fire, whose floods the wild deer circumvent In the scorch'd pastures of the South; so bent The armies of the leagued kings around Their files of steel and flame-the continent Trembled, as with a zone of ruin bound, Beneath their feet, the sea shook with their Navies' sound.

V.

From every nation of the earth they came, The multitude of moving heartless things, Whom slaves call men: obediently they came, Like sheep whom from the fold the shepherd brings To the stall, red with blood; their many kings Led them, thus erring, from their native home; Tartar and Frank, and millions whom the wings Of Indian breezes lull, and many a band The Arctic Anarch sent, and Idumea's sand,

VI.

Fertile in prodigies and lies;-so there Strange natures made a brotherhood of ill. The desert savage ceased to grasp in fear His Asian shield and bow, when, at the will Of Europe's subtler son, the bolt would kill Some shepherd sitting on a rock secure; But smiles of wondering joy his face would fill, And savage sympathy: those slaves impure, Each one the other thus from ill to ill did lure.

VII.

For traitorously did that foul Tyrant robe
His countenance in lies,-even at the hour
When he was snatch'd from death, then o'er the
globe,

With secret signs from many a mountain tower,
With smoke by day, and fire by night, the power
Of kings and priests, those dark conspirators
He call'd-they knew his cause their own, and

swore

Like wolves and serpents, to their mutual wars Strange truce, with many a rite which Earth and Heaven abhors.

VIII.

Myriads had come-millions were on their way;
The Tyrant past, surrounded by the steel
Of hired assassins, through the public way,
Choked with his country's dead:-his footsteps reel
On the fresh blood-he smiles, "Ay, now I feel
I am a King in truth!" he said, and took
His royal seat, and bade the torturing wheel
Be brought, and fire, and pincers, and the hook,
And scorpions; that his soul on its revenge might look.
IX.

"But first, go slay the rebels-why return
The victor bands?" he said, "millions yet live,
Of whom the weakest with one word might turn
The scales of victory yet;-let none survive
But those within the walls-each fifth shall give
The expiation for his brethren here.-

Go forth, and waste and kill!"-"O king, forgive My speech," a soldier answer'd-" but we fear The spirits of the night, and morn is drawing near,

pity

XVI.

Amid the aërial minarets on high,

The Ethiopian vultures fluttering fell From their long line of brethren in the sky, Startling the concourse of mankind.-Too well These signs the coming mischief did foretell :Strange panic first, a deep and sickening dread Within each heart, like ice, did sink and swell, A voiceless thought of evil, which did spread With the quick glance of eyes, like withering lightnings shed.

weigh'd

With gold, and Avarice died before the god it made. XIX.

There was no corn-in the wide market-place
All lotheliest things, even human flesh, was sold;
They weigh'd it in small scales-and many a face
Was fix'd in eager horror then his gold
The miser brought, the tender maid, grown bold
Through hunger, bared her scorned charms in vain
The mother brought her eldest born, controll'd
By instinct blind as love, but turn'd again
And bade her infant suck, and died in silent pain.
XX.

Then fell blue Plague upon the race of man.
"O, for the sheathed steel, so late which gave
Oblivion to the dead, when the streets ran
With brother's blood! O, that the earthquake's

XXXIV.

He dared not kill the infidels with fire
Or steel, in Europe: the slow agonies
Of legal torture mock'd his keen desire:

So he made truce with those who did despise
The expiation and the sacrifice,

That, though detested, Islam's kindred creed Might crush for him those deadlier enemies; For fear of God did in his bosom breed A jealous hate of man, an unreposing need.

XXXV.

"Peace! Peace!" he cried, "when we are dead, the day

Of judgment comes, and all shall surely know
Whose God is God, each fearfully shall pay
The errors of his faith in endless woe!
But there is sent a mortal vengeance now
On earth, because an impious race had spurn'd
Him whom we all adore,-a subtile foe,

By whom for ye this dread reward was earn'd, And kingly thrones, which rest on faith, nigh overturn'd.

XXXVI.

"Think ye, because ye weep, and kneel, and pray,
That God will lull the pestilence? it rose
Even from beneath his throne, where, many a day
His mercy soothed it to a dark repose:

It walks upon the earth to judge his foes,
And what are thou and I, that he should deign
To curb his ghastly minister, or close
The gates of death, ere they receive the twain
Who shook with mortal spells his undefended reign!

XXXVII.

“Ay, there is famine in the gulf of hell, Its giant worms of fire for ever yawn,— Their lurid eyes are on us! those who fell By the swift shaft of pestilence ere dawn, Are in their jaws! they hunger for the spawn Of Satan, their own brethren, who were sent To make our souls their spoil. See! see! they fawn Like dogs, and they will sleep with luxury spent, When those detested hearts their iron fangs have rent!

XXXVIII.

Our God may then lull Pestilence to sleep:
Pile high the pyre of expiation now!

A forest's spoil of boughs, and on the heap
Pour venomous gums, which sullenly and slow,
When touch'd by flame, shall burn, and melt, and
flow,

A stream of clinging fire,-and fix on high
A net of iron, and spread forth below

A couch of snakes, and scorpions, and the fry Of centipedes and worms, earth's hellish progeny!

XXXIX.

"Let Laon and Laone on that pyre, Link'd tight with burning brass, perish!—then pray That, with this sacrifice, the withering ire Of Heaven may be appeased." He ceased, and they A space stood silent, as far, far away The echoes of his voice among them died; And he knelt down upon the dust, alway Muttering the curses of his speechless pride, Whilst shame, and fear, and awe, the armies did divide.

XL.

His voice was like a blast that burst the portal
Of fabled hell; and as he spake, each one
Saw gape beneath the chasms of fire immortal,
And Heaven above seem'd cloven, where, on a
throne

Girt round with storms and shadows, sate alone,
Their King and Judge-fear kill'd in every breast
All natural pity then, a fear unknown
Before, and with an inward fire possest,
They raged like homeless beasts whom burning
woods invest.

XLI.

"T was morn-at noon the public crier went forth, Proclaiming through the living and the dead, "The Monarch saith, that this great Empire's worth Is set on Laon and Laone's head:

He who but one yet living here can lead,

Or who the life from both their hearts can wring, Shall be the kingdom's heir, a glorious meed! But he who both alive can hither bring, The Princess shall espouse, and reign an equal King." XLII.

Ere night the pyre was piled, the net of iron Was spread above, the fearful couch below, It overtopp'd the towers that did environ That spacious square; for Fear is never slow To build the thrones of Hate, her mate and foe, So, she scourged forth the maniac multitude To rear this pyramid-tottering and slow, Plague-stricken, foodless, like lean herds pursued By gad-flies, they have piled the heath, and gums, and wood.

Morn came,-among those sleepless multitudes, Madness, and Fear, and Plague, and Famine stil Heap'd corpse on corpse, as in autumnal woods The frosts of many a wind with dead leaves fill Earth's cold and sullen brooks; in silence, still The pale survivors stood; ere noon, the fear Of Hell became a panic, which did kill Like hunger or disease, with whispers drear, As "Hush! hark! Come they yet? Just Heaven! thine hour is near!" XLV.

And Priests rush'd through their ranks, some counterfeiting

The rage they did inspire, some mad indeed
With their own lies; they said their god was waiting
To see his enemies writhe, and burn, and bleed,-
And that, till then, the snakes of Hell had need
Of human souls-three hundred furnaces
Soon blazed through the wide City, where with

XLVI.

The noontide sun was darken'd with that smoke, The winds of eve dispersed those ashes gray, The madness which these rites had lull'd, awoke Again at sunset-Who shall dare to say

The deeds which night and fear brought forth, or weigh

In balance just the good and evil there?

He might man's deep and searchless heart display, And cast a light on those dim labyrinths, where Hope, near imagined chasms, is struggling with despair.

XLVII.

"Tis said, a mother dragg'd three children then, To those fierce flames which roast the eyes in the head,

And laugh'd and died; and that unholy men, Feasting like fiends upon the infidel dead, Look'd from their meal, and saw an Angel tread The visible floor of Heaven, and it was she! And, on that night, one without doubt or dread Came to the fire, and said, "Stop, I am he! Kill me!" they burn'd them both with hellish mockery.

XLVIII.

And, one by one, that night, young maidens came, Beauteous and calm, like shapes of living stone Clothed in the light of dreams, and by the flame Which shrank as overgorged, they laid them down, And sung a slow sweet song, of which alone One word was heard, and that was Liberty; And that some kiss'd their marble feet, with moan Like love, and died, and then that they did die With happy smiles, which sunk in white tranquillity.

CANTO XI.

I.

SHE saw me not-she heard me not-alone
Upon the mountain's dizzy brink she stood;
She spake not, breathed not, moved not-there

was thrown

Over her look, the shadow of a mood
Which only clothes the heart in solitude,

A thought of voiceless depth;-she stood alone; Above, the Heavens were spread ;-below, the flood Was murmuring in its caves;-the wind had blown Her hair apart, through which her eyes and forehead

shone.

II.

A cloud was hanging o'er the western mountains; Before its blue and moveless depth were flying Gray mists pour'd forth from the unresting fountains Of darkness in the North-the day was dying: Sudden, the sun shone forth, its beams were lying Like boiling gold on Ocean, strange to see, And on the shatter'd vapors, which defying The power of light in vain, toss'd restlessly In the red Heaven, like wrecks in a tempestuous sea.

III.

It was a stream of living beams, whose bank On either side by the cloud's cleft was made; And where its chasms that flood of glory drank, Its waves gush'd forth like fire, and as if sway'd By some mute tempest, roll'd on her; the shade Of her bright image floated on the river Of liquid light, which then did end and fadeHer radiant shape upon its verge did shiver; Aloft, her flowing hair like strings of flame did quiver

IV.

I stood beside her, but she saw me notShe look'd upon the sea, and skies, and earth; Rapture, and love, and admiration wrought A passion deeper far than tears, or mirth, Or speech, or gesture, or whate'er has birth From common joy; which, with the speechless feeling That led her there united, and shot forth From her far eyes, a light of deep revealing, All but her dearest self from my regard concealing.

V.

Her lips were parted, and the measured breath
Was now heard there—her dark and intricate eyes
Orb within orb, deeper than sleep or death,
Absorb'd the glories of the burning skies,
Which, mingling with her heart's deep ecstasies,
Burst from her looks and gestures;—and a light
Of liquid tenderness like love, did rise

From her whole frame, an atmosphere which quite Array'd her in its beams, tremulous and soft and bright.

VI.

She would have clasp'd me to her glowing frame; Those warm and odorous lips might soon have shed On mine the fragrance and the invisible flame Which now the cold winds stole; she would have laid

Upon my languid heart her dearest head;

I might have heard her voice, tender and sweet; Her eyes mingling with mine, might soon have fed My soul with their own joy.-One moment yet I gazed-we parted then, never again to meet!

VII.

Never but once to meet on Earth again! She heard me as I fled-her eager tone Sunk on my heart, and almost wove a chain Around my will to link it with her own, So that my stern resolve was almost gone. "I cannot reach thee! whither dost thou fly? My steps are faint-Come back, thou dearest oneReturn, ah me! return"-the wind past by On which those accents died, faint, far, and lingeringly.

VIII.

Woe! woe! that moonless midnight-Want and Pest Were horrible, but one more fell doth rear, As in a hydra's swarming lair, its crest Eminent among those victims-even the Fear Of Hell: each girt by the hot atmosphere Of his blind agony, like a scorpion stung By his own rage upon his burning bier Of circling coals of fire; but still there clung One hope, like a keen sword on starting threads uphung: