VIII. From what Hyrcanian glen or frozen hill, Didst thou lament the ruin of thy reign, To talk in echoes sad and stern, Of that sublimest lore which man had dared unlearn Of the Scald's dreams, nor haunt the Druid's sleep. What if the tears rained through thy shattered locks, Were quickly dried? for thou didst groan, not weep, When from its sea of death to kill and burn, The Galilean serpent forth did creep, And made thy world an undistinguishable heap. IX. A thousand years the Earth cried, Where art thou? On Saxon Alfred's olive-cinctured brow: And many a warrior-peopled citadel, Like rocks, which fire lifts out of the flat deep. Frowning o'er the tempestuous sea Of kings, and priests, and slaves, in tower-crowned majesty: That multitudinous anarchy did sweep, And burst around their walls, like idle foam, Whilst from the human spirit's deepest deep. Strange melody with love and awe struck dumb Dissonant arms; and Art which cannot die, X. Thou huntress swifter than the Moon! thou terror Luther caught thy wakening glance: And England's prophets hailed thee as their queen, In songs whose music cannot pass away, Though it must flow for ever: not unseen Before the spirit-sighted countenance Of Milton didst thou pass, from the sad scene ODE TO LIBERTY. XI. The eager hours and unreluctant years As on a dawn-illumined mountain stood, Trampling to silence their loud hopes and fears, Darkening each other with their multitude, And cried aloud, Liberty! Indignation Answered Pity from her cave; Death grew pale within the grave, And desolation howled to the destroyer, Save! Like shadows: as if day had cloven the skies XII. Thou heaven of earth! what spells could pall thee then, Dyed all thy liquid light with blood and tears, Round France, the ghastly vintage, stood Rose: armies mingled in obscure array, Like clouds with clouds, darkening the sacred bowers Of serene heaven. He, by the past pursued, Rests with those dead but unforgotten hours, Whose ghosts scare victor kings in their ancestral towers XIII. England yet sleeps: was she not called of old? Spain calls her now, as with its thrilling thunder Vesuvius wakens Etna, and the cold Snow-crags by its reply are cloven in sunder: O'er the lit waves every Eolian isle From Pithecusa to Pelorus Howls, and leaps, and glares in chorus: They cry, Be dim, ye lamps of heaven suspended o'er us, Twins of a single destiny! appeal To the eternal years enthroned before us, In the dim West; impress us from a seal, All ye have thought and done! Time cannot dare conceal. XIV. Tomb of Arminius! render up thy dead Till, like a standard from a watch-tower's staff, His dead spirit lives in thee. Why do we fear or hope? thou art already free! And glorious world! thou flowery wilderness ! Where desolation, clothed with loveliness, Worships the thing thou wert! O Italy, Gather thy blood into thy heart; repress The beasts who make their dens thy sacred palaces. XV. O that the free would stamp the impious name Were as the serpent's path, which the light air Ye the oracle have heard: Lift the victory-flashing sword, And cut the snaky knots of this foul gordian word, The axes and the rods which awe mankind; To set thine armed heel on this reluctant worm. XVI. O that the wise from their bright minds would kindle Till human thoughts might kneel alone, Of its own aweless soul, or of the power unknown! They stand before their Lord, each to receive its due. XVII. He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever O vain endeavour! if on his own high will a willing slave, He has enthroned the oppression and the oppressor. Amplest millions at their need, And power in thought be as the tree within the seed? Diving on fiery wings to Nature's throne, And cries, give me, thy child, dominion Over all height and depth? if Life can breed New wants, and wealth from those who toil and groan, Rend of thy gifts and hers a thousandfold for one. XVIII. Come thou, but lead out of the inmost cave To judge with solemn truth life's ill-apportioned lot? Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee: If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought By blood or tears, have not the wise and free Wept tears, and blood like tears? The solemn harmony ΧΙΧ. Paused, and the spirit of that mighty singing When the bolt has pierced its brain; As a brief insect dies with dying day, Of the great voice which did its flight sustain, Hiss round a drowner's head in their tempestuous play. LL ARETHUSA. ARETHUSA arose From her couch of snows Shepherding her bright fountains. Which slopes to the western gleams. In murmurs as soft as sleep; The Earth seemed to love her, And Heaven smiled above her, As she lingered towards the deep. Then Alpheus bold, On his glacier cold, With his trident the mountains strook; And opened a chasm In the rocks:-with the spasm All Erymanthus shook. And the black south wind It concealed behind The urns of the silent snow, And earthquake and thunder The bars of the springs below: Seen through the torrent's sweep, "Oh, save me! Oh, guide me! To its blue depth stirred, And divided at her prayer; The Earth's white daughter |