XLVI.

The noontide sun was darken'd with that smoke,
The winds of eve dispersed those ashes grey,
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, thro' which her eyes and forehead shone. II.

A cloud was hanging o'er the western mountains; Before its blue and moveless depth were flying Grey 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 vapours, 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 swayed
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 fade-
Her 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 ecstacies,
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 bind 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:

CANTO XII.

I.

THE transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness
Spread through the multitudinous streets, fast flying
Upon the winds of fear; from his dull madness
The starveling waked, and died in joy; the dying,
Among the corpses in stark agony lying,

Just heard the happy tidings, and in hope
Closed their faint eyes; from house to house replying
With loud acclaim, the living shook Heaven's cope,
And fill'd the startled Earth with echoes: morn did ope

II.

Its pale eyes then; and lo! the long array Of guards in golden arms, and priests beside, Singing their bloody hymns, whose garbs betray The blackness of the faith it seems to hide; And see, the tyrant's gem-wrought chariot glide Among the gloomy cowls and glittering spearsA shape of light is sitting by his side, A child most beautiful. I the midst appears Laon,- exempt alone from mortal hopes and fears.

III.

His head and feet are bare, his hands are bound
Behind with heavy chains, yet none do wreak
Their scoffs on him, though myriads throng around;
There are no sneers upon his lip which speak
That scorn or hate hath made him bold; his cheek
Resolve has not turn'd pale,-his eyes are mild
And calm, and like the morn about to break,
Smile on mankind-his heart seems reconciled
To all things and itself, like a reposing child.
IV.

Tumult was in the soul of all beside,
Ill joy, or doubt, or fear; but those who saw
Their tranquil victim pass, felt wonder glide
Into their brain, and became calm with awe.
See, the slow pageant near the pile doth draw.
A thousand torches in the spacious square,
Borne by the ready slaves of ruthless law,
Await the signal round: the morning fair

Is changed to a dim night by that unnatural glare.

V.

And see! beneath a sun-bright canopy,

Upon a platform level with the pile,

The anxious Tyrant sit, enthroned on high,
Girt by the chieftains of the host; all smile
In expectation, but one child: the while

I, Laon, led by mutes, ascend my bier

Of fire, and look around; each distant isle Is dark in the bright dawn; towers far and near Pierce like reposing flames the tremulous atmosphere.