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The mutinous air and seal they round thee, even
As sleep round Love, are driven! Metropolis of a ruined Paradise
Long lost, late won, and yet but half regained ! Bright Altar of the bloodless sacrifice,
Which armèd Victory offers up unstained
To Love, the flower-enchained ! Thou which wert once, and then didst cease to be, Now art, and henceforth ever shalt be, free, If Hope, and Truth, and Justice can avail, —
Hail, hail, all hail!
STROPHE B 2
Thou youngest giant birth,
Which from the groaning earth Leap’st, clothed in armor of impenetrable scale !
Last of the intercessors
Who 'gainst the Crowned Transgressors Pleadest before God's love! Arrayed in Wisdom's
Nor let thy high heart fail,
Hail, hail, all hail !
ANTISTROPHE a 1
What though Cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme
Freedom and thee? thy shield is as a mirror To make their blind slaves see, and with fierce gleam To turn his hungry sword upon the wearer;
A new Actæon's error
Shall theirs have been - devoured by their own
hounds! Be thou like the imperial Basilisk, Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds !
Gaze on oppression, till, at that dread risk
Aghast, she pass from the Earth's disk;
If Hope, and Truth, and Justice may avail,
ANTISTROPHE B 2
From Nature's inmost shrine,
O'er Ruin desolate,
O'er Falsehood's fallen state, Sit thou sublime, unawed; be the Destroyer pale!
And equal laws be thine,
And winged words let sail,
That wealth, surviving fate,
From land to land reëchoed solemnly,
To the cold Alps, eternal Italy
Starts to hear thine! The Sea Which paves the desert streets of Venice laughs
In light and music ; widowed Genoa wan By moonlight spells ancestral epitaphs,
Murmuring, Where is Doria ? Fair Milan,
Within whose veins long ran
(If Hope, and Truth, and Justice can avail)
Of cities fairest one,
eyes of quenchless hope Rome tears the priestly cope, As ruling once by power, so now by admiration, —
An athlete stripped to run
From a remoter station
As then Hope, Truth, and Justice did avail,
EPODE I B
Arrayed against the ever-living Gods ?
Of crags and thunder-clouds ?
Inwrought with emblems of barbaric pride ? Dissonant threats kill Silence far away, The serene Heaven which wraps our Eden wide
With iron light is dyed, The Anarchs of the North lead forth their legions
Like Chaos o'er creation, uncreating ; An hundred tribes nourished on strange religions And lawless slaveries, — down the aërial regions
Of the white Alps, desolating,
Famished wolves that bide no waiting, Blotting the glowing footsteps of old glory, Trampling our columned cities into dust,
Their dull and savage lust On Beauty's corse to sickness satiating They come! The fields they tread look black and
hoary With fire from their red feet the streams run
EPODE II B
Which rulest and dost move
Whose woods, rocks, waves, surround it; Who sittest in thy star, o'er Ocean's western floor;
Spirit of beauty! at whose soft command The sunbeams and the showers distil its foison
From the Earth's bosom chill;
Bid the Earth's plenty kill !
To make it ours and thine !
And raise thy sons, as o'er the prone horizon
Would not more swiftly flee,
THE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the year On the earth, her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Of the dead cold year,
Autumn. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.