IX. Now has descended a serener hour, And with inconstant fortune, friends return; Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the power Which says:-Let scorn be not repaid with scorn. And from thy side two gentle babes are born To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we Most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn: And these delights, and thou, have been to me The parents of the Song I consecrate to thee. X. Is it, that now my inexperienced fingers Though it might shake the Anarch Custom's reign, Reply in hope-but I am worn away, And Death and Love are yet contending for their prey. ΧΙ. And what art thou? I know, but dare not speak: Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek, Is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears: XII. They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth, Of its departing glory; still her fame Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim The shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name. XIII. One voice came forth from many a mighty spirit, The music of his home :-unwonted fears Fell on the pale oppressors of our race, And Faith, and Custom, and low-thoughted cares, Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling-place. Truth's deathless voice pauses among mankind! WHEN the last hope of trampled France had failed From visions of despair I rose, and scaled The peak of an aërial promontory, Whose caverned base with the vexed surge was hoary II. So as I stood, one blast of muttering thunder Darkness more dread than night was poured upon the ground. III. Hark! 'tis the rushing of a wind that sweeps Earth and the ocean. See! the lightnings yawn One mighty stream, whirlwind and waves upthrown, IV. For, where the irresistible storm had cloven Earth and the upper air, the vast clouds fled, For ever as the war became more fierce Between the whirlwinds and the rack on high, That spot grew more serene; blue light did pierce Past on, in slow and moving majesty; Its upper horn arrayed in mists, which soon But slowly fled, like dew beneath the beams of noon. VI. I could not choose but gaze; a fascination Dwelt in that moon, and sky, and clouds, which drew Of what I knew not, I remained :—the hue VIL Even like a bark, which from a chasm of mountains, Which there collects the strength of all its fountains, Sails, oars, and stream, tending to one endeavour; So, from that chasm of light a winged Form On all the winds of heaven approaching ever Floated, dilating as it came: the storm Pursued it with fierce blasts, and lightnings swift and warm. VIII. A course precipitous, of dizzy speed, Suspending thought and breath; a monstrous sight! An Eagle and a Serpent wreathed in fight:- IX. A shaft of light upon its wings descended, The Serpent's mailed and raany-coloured skin Shone through the plumes; its coils were twined within Shifted and glanced before the Eagle's steadfast eye. X. Around, around, in ceaseless circles wheeling Its lessening orbs, sometimes as if it failed, Drooped through the air; and still it shrieked and wailed, And talon unremittingly assailed The wreathed Serpent, who did ever seek Upon his enemy's heart a mortal wound to wreak. ΧΙ. What life, what power, was kindled and arose For, from the encounter of those wondrous foes, Hung gathered: in the void air, far away, Floated the shattered plumes; bright scales did leap, XII. Swift chances in that combat-many a check, XIII. Then on the white edge of the bursting surge, The wind with his wild writhings; for to break As in despair, and with his sinewy neck Then soar as swift as smoke from a volcano springs قلة XIV. Wile baffled wile, and strength encountered strength, It had endured, when lifeless, stark, and rent, XV. And with it fled the tempest, so that ocean And earth and sky shone through the atmosphereOnly, it was strange to see the red commotion Of waves like mountains o'er the sinking sphere Of sunset sweep, and their fierce roar to hear Amid the calm: down the steep path I wound To the sea-shore-the evening was most clear And beautiful, and there the sea I found Calm as a cradled child in dreamless slumber bound. XVI. There was a woman, beautiful as morning, Of the waste sea-fair as one flower adorning XVII. It seemed that this fair Shape had looked upon That her sweet eyes were weary of the sun, As brightly it illustrated her woe; For in the tears which silently to flow Paused not, its lustre hung; she watching aye The foam-wreaths which the faint tide wove below Upon the spangled sands, groaned heavily, And after every groan looked up over the sea. XVIII. And when she saw the wounded Serpent make His path between the waves, her lips grew pale, Parted and quivered; the tears ceased to break From her immovable eyes; no voice of wail Escaped her; but she rose, and on the gale Loosening her star-bright robe and shadowy hair, Poured forth her voice; the caverns of the vale That opened to the ocean, caught it there, And filled with silver sounds the overflowing air. |