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Hung Tyranny; beneath, sate dei-

The sister-pest, congregator of slaves; Into the shadow of her pinions wide Anarchs and priests who fled on gold and blood,

Till with the stain their inmost souls are dyed,

Drove the astonished herds of men from every side.


The nodding promontories, and blue isles,

And cloud-like mountains, and dividu

ous waves

Of Greece, basked glorious in the open smiles

Of favouring heaven: from their
enchanted caves

Prophetic echoes flung dim melody.
On the unapprehensive wild
The vine, the corn, the olive

Grew savage yet, to human use unreconciled;

And, like unfolded flowers beneath

the sea,

Like the man's thought dark in the
infant's brain,

Like aught that is which wraps what
is to be,

Art's deathless dreams lay veiled
by many a vein

Of Parian stone; and yet a speechless



Her lidless eyes for thee; when o'er the Ægean main


Athens arose a city such as vision

Builds from the purple crags and silver towers

By thunder-zoned winds, each head Within its cloudy wings with sunfire garlanded,

A divine work! Athens diviner yet Gleamed with its crest of columns, on the will

Of man, as on a mount of diamond, set;

Of battlemented cloud, as in derision
Of kingliest masonry: the ocean-floors
Pave it; the evening sky pavilions it ;
Its portals are inhabited

For thou wert, and thine all-creative skill

Peopled with forms that mock the eternal dead

In marble immortality, that hill Which was thine earliest throne and latest oracle.


Within the surface of Time's fleeting


Rending the veil of space and time asunder!

One ocean feeds the clouds, and streams, and dew;

Verse murmured, and Philosophy did One sun illumines heaven; one spirit

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With life and love makes chaos ever new,

As Athens doth the world with thy delight renew.


Then Rome was, and from thy deep bosom fairest,

Like a wolf-cub from a Cadmæan


1 See the Baccha of Euripides.

She drew the milk of greatness, though thy dearest

From that Elysian food was yet unweaned;

And many a deed of terrible uprightness
By thy sweet love was sanctified;
And in thy smile, and by thy side,
Saintly Camillus lived, and firm Atilius


But when tears stained thy robe of
vestal whiteness,

And gold profaned thy capitolian

Thou didst desert, with spirit-winged

The senate of the tyrants: they
sunk prone

Slaves of one tyrant : Palatinus sighed
Faint echoes of Ionian song; that tone
Thou didst delay to hear, lamenting
to disown.


From what Hyrcanian glen or frozen hill,

Or piny promontory of the Arctic main,


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.

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With divine wand traced on our earthly home

Fit imagery to pave heaven's everlasting dome.

Or utmost islet inaccessible,

Didst thou lament the ruin of thy



Teaching the woods and waves, and Thou huntress swifter than the Moon!

desert rocks,

thou terror

Of the world's wolves! thou bearer of the quiver,

And every Naiad's ice-cold urn, To talk in echoes sad and stern, Of that sublimest lore which man had dared unlearn?

Whose sunlike shafts pierce tempestwinged Error,

For neither didst thou watch the wizard flocks

As light may pierce the clouds when they dissever

Of the Scald's dreams, nor haunt In the calm regions of the orient day! the Druid's sleep.

What if the tears rained through thy

Luther caught thy wakening
Like lightning, from his leaden

shattered locks

lance Reflected, it dissolved the visions of the


In which, as in a tomb, the nations


And England's prophets hailed thee as their queen,

In songs whose music cannot pass

Round France, the ghastly vintage, stood


Though it must flow for ever: not Destruction's sceptred slaves, and Folly's


mitred brood!

Before the spirit-sighted countenance
Of Milton didst thou pass, from the

sad scene

When one, like them, but mightier far than they,

The Anarch of thine own bewildered

Rose: armies mingled in obscure
Like clouds with clouds, darkening
the sacred bowers


The eager hours and unreluctant years

As on a dawn-illumined mountain Of serene heaven. He, by the past stood,

Beyond whose night he saw, with a dejected mien.

Trampling to silence their loud hopes and fears,

Darkening each other with their

And cried aloud, Liberty! Indignation
Answered Pity from her cave;
Death grew pale within the grave,
And Desolation howled to the destroyer,


When like heaven's sun girt by the exhalation

Of its own glorious light, thou didst


Like shadows: as if day had cloven the skies At dreaming midnight o'er the western


Men started, staggering with a glad surprise,

Under the lightnings of thine unfamiliar eyes.


Rests with those dead, but unforgotten hours,

Spain calls her now, as with its thrilling thunder

Vesuvius wakens Ætna, and the cold Snow-crags by its reply are cloven in sunder:

Chasing thy foes from nation unto O'er the lit waves every Æolian isle nation From Pithecusa to Pelorus

Howls, and leaps, and glares in chorus:

They cry, Be dim; ye lamps of heaven suspended o'er us.

Her chains are threads of gold, she need but smile

And they dissolve; but Spain's were
links of steel,

Till bit to dust by virtue's keenest file.
Twins of a single destiny! appeal

Whose ghosts scare victor kings in their ancestral towers.


Dyed all thy liquid light with blood and tears,


England yet sleeps: was she not called of old?


Thou heaven of earth! what spells could To the eternal years enthroned before us, pall thee then, In the dim West; impress us from a seal,

In ominous eclipse? a thousand years Bred from the slime of deep oppression's

All ye have thought and done! Time cannot dare conceal.


Till thy sweet stars could weep the Tomb of Arminius! render up thy dead, Till, like a standard from a watchtower's staff,

stain away;

How like Bacchanals of blood

His soul may stream over the tyrant's head;

Thy victory shall be his epitaph, Wild Bacchanal of truth's mysterious wine, King-deluded Germany, His dead spirit lives in thee. Why do we fear or hope? thou art already free!

And thou, lost Paradise of this divine A And glorious world! thou flowery wilderness!

Thou island of eternity! thou shrine 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.


Lift the victory-flashing sword,

And cut the snaky knots of this foul gordian word,

Which weak itself as stubble, yet can

Into a mass, irrefragably firm,
The axes and the rods which awe

Oh, that the free would stamp the impious name

Of KING into the dust! or write it there,

So that this blot upon the page of fame

Were as a serpent's path, which the light air


Erases, and the flat sands close behind! He who taught man to vanquish whatYe the oracle have heard:


The sound has poison in it, 'tis the

Of what makes life foul, cankerous, and

Disdain not thou, at thine appointed term,

To set thine armèd heel on this reluctant worm.


Oh, that the wise from their bright minds would kindle

Such lamps within the dome of this dim world,

That the pale name of PRIEST might shrink and dwindle

Into the hell from which it first was hurled,

scoff of impious pride from fiends impure;

Till human thoughts might kneel alone

Each before the judgment-throne Of its own aweless soul, or of the power unknown!

Oh, that the words which make the thoughts obscure

From which they spring, as clouds of glimmering dew

From a white lake blot heaven's blue portraiture,

Were stript of their thin masks and various hue

And frowns and smiles and splendours not their own,

Till in the nakedness of false and true They stand before their Lord, each to receive its due!


Can be between the cradle and the

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And cries: Give me, thy child,

When the bolt has pierced its

Over all height and depth? if Life can As summer clouds dissolve, unburthened breed

of their rain;

New wants, and wealth from those who toil and groan

As a far taper fades with fading night, As a brief insect dies with dying day,

My song, its pinions disarrayed of might,

Drooped; o'er it closed the echoes far away

Rend of thy gifts and hers a thousandfold for one.


Come Thou, but lead out of the inmost


Of man's deep spirit, as the morning


Beckons the Sun from the Eoan wave,
Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her

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Of the great voice which did its flight sustain,

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