XXX.

"But one was mute, her cheeks and lips most fair, Changing their hue like lilies newly blown, Beneath a bright acacia's shadowy hair, Waved by the wind amid the sunny noon, Show'd that her soul was quivering; and full soon That youth arose, and breathlessly did look On her and me, as for some speechless boon: I smiled, and both their hands in mine I took, And felt a soft delight from what their spirits shook.

CANTO IX.

I.

"THAT night we anchor'd in a woody bay, And sleep no more around us dared to hover Than, when all doubt and fear has past away, It shades the couch of some unresting lover, Whose heart is now at rest: thus night past over In mutual joy:-around, a forest grew Of poplars and dark oaks, whose shade did cover The waning stars prankt in the waters blue, = And trembled in the wind which from the morning flew.

1

II.

"The joyous mariners, and each free maiden,
Now brought from the deep forest many a bough,
With woodland spoil most innocently laden;
Soon wreaths of budding foliage seem'd to flow
Over the mast and sails, the stern and prow
Were canopied with blooming boughs, the while
On the slant sun's path o'er the waves we go
Rejoicing, like the dwellers of an isle

V.

"We reach'd the port-alas! from many spirits The wisdom which had waked that cry, was fled, Like the brief glory which dark Heaven inherits From the false dawn, which fades ere it is spread, Upon the night's devouring darkness shed: Yet soon bright day will burst-even like a chasm Of fire, to burn the shrouds outworn and dead, Which wrap the world; a wide enthusiasm, To cleanse the fever'd world as with an earthquake's spasm!

VI

"I walk'd through the great City then, but free From shame or fear; those toil-worn Mariners And happy Maidens did encompass me; And like a subterranean wind that stirs Some forest among caves, the hopes and fears From every human soul, a murmur strange Made as I past; and many wept, with tears Of joy and awe, and winged thoughts did range, And half-extinguish'd words, which prophesied of change.

VII.

"For, with strong speech I tore the veil that hid Nature, and Truth, and Liberty, and Love,As one who from some mountain's pyramid, Points to the unrisen sun!-the shades approve His truth, and flee from every stream and grove. Thus, gentle thoughts did many a bosom fill,Wisdom, the mail of tried affections wove For many a heart, and tameless scorn of ill, Thrice steep'd in molten steel the unconquerable will.

VIII.

"Some said I was a maniac wild and lost;
Some, that I scarce had risen from the grave
The Prophet's virgin bride, a heavenly ghost :-
Some said, I was a fiend from my weird cave,
Who had stolen human shape, and o'er the wave,
The forest, and the mountain came;-some said
I was the child of God, sent down to save
Women from bonds and death, and on my head

smile.

"But soon my human words found sympathy In human hearts: the purest and the best, As friend with friend, made common cause with me, And they were few, but resolute; the rest, Ere yet success the enterprise had blest, Leagued with me in their hearts; their meals, their slumber,

Their hourly occupations were possest By hopes which I had arm'd to overnumber, Those hosts of meaner cares, which life's strong wings

encumber.

Χ.

"But chiefly women, whom my voice did waken From their cold, careless, willing slavery,

Sought me one truth their dreary prison has

shaken,

They look'd around, and lo! they became free! Their many tyrants sitting desolately In slave-deserted halls, could none restrain; For wrath's red fire had wither'd in the eye, Whose lightning once was death,---nor fear, nor gain Could tempt one captive now to lock another's chain.

X.

"For we were slaying still without remorse, And now that dreadful chief beneath my hand Defenceless lay, when, on a hell-black horse, An Angel bright as day, waving a brand

Which flash'd among the stars, past."-" Dost thou stand

Parleying with me, thou wretch ?" the king replied; "Slaves, bind him to the wheel; and of this band, Whoso will drag that woman to his side That scared him thus, may burn his dearest foe beside;

ΧΙ.

"And gold and glory shall be his. Go forth!" They rush'd into the plain-Loud was the roar Of their career: the horsemen shook the earth; The wheel'd artillery's speed the pavement tore; The infantry, file after file, did pour

Their clouds on the utmost hills. Five days they slew

Among the wasted fields; the sixth saw gore Stream through the city; on the seventh, the dew Of slaughter became stiff; and there was peace anew:

ΧΙΙ.

Peace in the desert fields and villages, Between the glutted beasts and mangled dead! Peace in the silent streets! save when the cries Of victims to their fiery judgment led, Made pale their voiceless lips who seem'd to dread Even in their dearest kindred, lest some tongue Be faithless to the fear yet unbetray'd; Peace in the Tyrant's palace, where the throng Waste the triumphal hours in festival and song!

XIII.

Day after day the burning Sun roll'd on Over the death-polluted land-it came Out of the east like fire, and fiercely shone A lamp of Autumn, ripening with its flame The few lone ears of corn;-the sky became Stagnate with heat, so that each cloud and blast Languish'd and died, the thirsting air did claim All moisture, and a rotting vapor past From the unburied dead, invisible and fast.

XIV.

First Want, then Plague came on the beasts; their

food

Fail'd, and they drew the breath of its decay.
Millions on millions, whom the scent of blood
Had lured, or who, from regions far away,
Had track'd the hosts in festival array,

From their dark deserts; gaunt and wasting now, Stalk'd like fell shades among their perish'd prey; In their green eyes a strange disease did glow, They sank in hideous spasm, or pains severe and slow.

XV.

The fish were poison'd in the streams; the birds In the green woods perish'd; the insect race Was wither'd up; the scatter'd flocks and herds Who had survived the wild beasts' hungry chase Died moaning, each upon the other's face In helpless agony gazing; round the City All night, the lean hyenas their sad case Like starving infants wail'd; a woful ditty! And many a mother wept, pierced with unnatural

XVI.

Amid the aërial minarets on high, The Æthiopian 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.

XVII.

Day after day, when the year wanes, the frosts
Strip its green crown of leaves, till all is bare;
So on those strange and congregated hosts
Came Famine, a swift shadow, and the air
Groan'd with the burthen of a new despair;
Famine, than whom Misrule no deadlier daughter
Feeds from her thousand breasts, though sleeping

there

With lidless eyes, lie Faith, and Plague, and Slaugh

ter,

A ghastly brood; conceived of Lethe's sullen water
XVIII.

There was no food, the corn was trampled down,
The flocks and herds had perish'd; on the shore
The dead and putrid fish were ever thrown:
The deeps were foodless, and the winds no more
Creak'd with the weight of birds, but as before
Those winged things sprang forth, were void of
shade;

The vines and orchards, Autumn's golden store, Were burn'd;-so that the meanest food was weigh'd

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