Rending the veil of space and time asunder! One ocean feeds the clouds, and streams, and dew; One sun illumines heaven; one spirit vast With life and love makes chaos ever new, As Athens doth the world with thy delight renew. VII. Then Rome was, and from thy deep bosom fairest, But when tears stained thy robe of vestal whiteness, Slaves of one tyrant: Palatinus sighed Faint echoes of Ionian song; that tone 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? For neither didst thou watch the wizard flocks 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. 1 See the Baccha of Euripides, IX. A thousand years the Earth cried, Where art thou? 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, Strange melody with love and awe struck dumb X. Thou huntress swifter than the Moon! thou terror Luther caught thy wakening glance, Like lightning, from his leaden lance Reflected, it dissolved the visions of the trance. In which, as in a tomb, the nations lay; 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 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, Like shadows: as if day had cloven the skies XII. Thou heaven of earth! what spells could pall thee then, In ominous eclipse? a thousand years Bred from the slime of deep oppression's den, Dyed all thy liquid light with blood and tears, Till thy sweet stars could weep the stain away; How like Bacchanals of blood Round France, the ghastly vintage, stood Destruction's sceptred slaves, and Folly's mitred brood! When one, like them, but mightier far than they, The Anarch of thine own bewildered powers 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 Æolian isle 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. To the eternal years enthroned before us, 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, Wild Bacchanal of truth's mysterious wine, 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. 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! 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 armèd 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! Were stript of their thin masks and various hue They stand before their Lord, each to receive its due. XVII. He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever He has enthroned the oppression and the oppressor. Amplest millions at their need, And power in thought be as the tree within the seed? O, what if Art, an ardent intercessor, Driving on fiery wings to Nature's throne, Checks the great mother stooping to caress her, 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 thousand fold for one. XVIII. Come Thou, but lead out of the inmost cave Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her car |