Whence are we, and why are we? of what scene The actors or spectators? Great and mean Meet massed in death, who lends what life must borrow. As long as skies are blue and fields are green, Evening must usher night, night urge the mor row, Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow. XXII He will awake no more, oh, never more! "Wake thou,” cried Misery," childless Mother, rise Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart's core, A wound more fierce than his with tears and sighs." And all the Dreams that watched Urania's eyes, And all the Echoes whom their sister's song Had held in holy silence, cried, "Arise!" Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung, From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendor sprung. XXIII She rose like an autumnal Night, that springs sorrow and fear So struck, so roused, so rapt Urania ; XXIV Out of her secret Paradise she sped, steel, And human hearts which, to her airy tread Palms of her tender feet where'er they fell; And barbed tongues, and thoughts more sharp than they, Rent the soft Form they never could repel, Whose sacred blood, like the young tears of May, Paved with eternal flowers that undeserving way. XXV In the death-chamber for a moment Death, Shamed by the presence of that living Might, Blushed to annihilation, and the breath Revisited those lips, and life's pale light Flashed through those limbs, so late her dear delight. "Leave me not wild and drear and comfortless, As silent lightning leaves the starless night! Leave me not!" cried Urania; her distress Roused Death; Death rose and smiled, and met her vain caress. 66 XXVI 'Stay yet awhile! speak to me once again; survive, With food of saddest memory kept alive, But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart! XXVII "O gentle child, beautiful as thou wert, Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart Dare the unpastured dragon in his den? Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then Wisdom the mirrored shield, or scorn the spear ? Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when Thy spirit should have filled its crescent sphere, The monsters of life's waste had fled from thee like deer. XXVIII "The herded wolves, bold only to pursue; And whose wings rain contagion ;- how they fled, When, like Apollo, from his golden bow The Pythian of the age one arrow sped And smiled! The spoilers tempt no second blow, They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low. xxviii. 9 lying low, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || as they go, Shelley, 1821. XXIX "The sun comes forth, and many reptiles spawn; He sets, and each ephemeral insect then Is gathered into death without a dawn, A godlike mind soars forth, in its delight Making earth bare and veiling heaven, and when It sinks, the swarms that dimmed or shared its light Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit's awful night." XXX Thus ceased she; and the mountain shepherds came, Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent; The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like Heaven is bent, The sweetest lyrist of her saddest wrong, And love taught grief to fall like music from his tongue. XXXI 'Midst others of less note, came one frail Form, A phantom among men; companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm XXX. 2 magic | tragic, Rossetti conj. Actæon-like, and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness, And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey. XXXII A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift A love in desolation masked; a Power Girt round with weakness; it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour; It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow; - even whilst we speak Is it not broken? On the withering flower The killing sun smiles brightly; on a cheek The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break. XXXIII His head was bound with pansies over-blown, And faded violets, white, and pied, and blue; And a light spear topped with a cypress cone, Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew, Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew He came the last, neglected and apart; A herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter's dart. XXXIV All stood aloof, and at his partial moan Smiled through their tears; well knew that gentle band Who in another's fate now wept his own, |