XIV.

It must be so-I will arise and waken

The multitude, and like a sulphurous hill,
Which on a sudden from its snows has shaken
The swoon of ages, it shall burst and fill
The world with cleansing fire: it must, it will—
It may not be restrained!-and who shall stand
Amid the rocking earthquake stedfast still,

But Laon? on high Freedom's desart land

A tower whose marble walls the leaguèd storms withstand!

XV.

One summer night, in commune with the hope
Thus deeply fed, amid those ruins grey

I watched, beneath the dark sky's starry cope;
And ever from that hour upon me lay
The burthen of this hope, and night or day,
In vision or in dream, clove to my breast:
Among mankind, or when gone far away

To the lone shores and mountains, 'twas a guest

Which followed where I fled, and watched when I did rest.

XVI.

These hopes found words thro' which my spirit sought
To weave a bondage of such sympathy,

As might create some response to the thought
Which ruled me now-and as the vapours lie
Bright in the out-spread morning's radiancy,
So were these thoughts invested with the light
Of language and all bosoms made reply

On which its lustre streamed, whene'er it might
Thro' darkness wide and deep those trancèd spirits smite.

XVII.

Yes, many an eye with dizzy tears was dim,

And oft I thought to clasp my own heart's brother.
When I could feel the listener's senses swim,
And hear his breath its own swift gaspings smother
Even as my words evoked them-and another,
And yet another, I did fondly deem,

Felt that we all were sons of one great mother;
And the cold truth such sad reverse did seem,
As to awake in grief from some delightful dream.

XVIII.

Yes, oft beside the ruined labyrinth

Which skirts the hoary caves of the green deep,
Did Laon and his friend on one grey plinth,

Round whose worn base the wild waves hiss and leap,
Resting at eve, a lofty converse keep:

And that this friend was false, may now be said
Calmly that he like other men could weep

Tears which are lies, and could betray and spread Snares for that guileless heart which for his own had bled.

XIX.

Then, had no great aim recompensed my sorrow,
I must have sought dark respite from its stress
In dreamless rest, in sleep that sees no morrow-
For to tread life's dismaying wilderness
Without one smile to cheer, one voice to bless,
Amid the snares and scoffs of human kind,

Is hard-but I betrayed it not, nor less

With love that scorned return, sought to unbind The interwoven clouds which make its wisdom blind.

XX.

With deathless minds which leave where they have past A path of light, my soul communion knew;

Till from that glorious intercourse, at last,

As from a mine of magic store, I drew

Words which were weapons;-round my heart there grew The adamantine armour of their power,

And from my fancy wings of golden hue

Sprang forth-yet not alone from wisdom's tower, A minister of truth, these plumes young Laon bore.

XXI.

I had a little sister, whose fair eyes

Were loadstars of delight, which drew me home.
When I might wander forth; nor did I prize
Aught human thing beneath Heaven's mighty dome
Beyond this child: so when sad hours were come,
And baffled hope like ice still clung to me,
Since kin were cold, and friends had now become
Heartless and false, I turned from all, to be,
Cythna, the only source of tears and smiles to thee.

XXII.

What wert thou then? A child most infantine,
Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age
In all but its sweet looks and mien divine;
Even then, methought, with the world's tyrant rage
A patient warfare thy young heart did wage,
When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought,
Some tale, or thine own fancies would engage

To overflow with tears, or converse fraught

With passion, o'er their depths its fleeting light had wrought.

XXIII.

She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness,
A power, that from its objects scarcely drew
One impulse of her being-in her lightness
Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew,
Which wanders thro' the waste air's pathless blue,
To nourish some far desart: she did seem

Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew,

Like the bright shade of some immortal dream Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the wave of life's dark

stream.

XXIV.

As mine own shadow was this child to me,
A second self, far dearer and more fair;
Which clothed in undissolving radiancy,

All those steep paths which languor and despair
Of human things, had made so dark and bare,
But which I trod alone-nor, till bereft

Of friends, and overcome by lonely care

Knew I what solace for that loss was left, Though by a bitter wound my trusting heart was cleft.

XXV.

Once she was dear, now she was all I had

To love in human life, this sister sweet,

This child of twelve years old-so she was made

My sole associate, and her willing feet

Wandered with mine where earth and ocean meet,
Beyond the aërial mountains whose vast cells
The unreposing billows ever beat,

Thro' forests wide and old, and lawny dells,

Where boughs of incense droop over the emerald wells.

XXVI.

And warm and light I felt her clasping hand When twined in mine: she followed where I went, Thro' the lone paths of our immortal land. It had no waste, but some memorial lent Which strung me to my toil-some monument Vital with mind: then, Cythna by my side, Until the bright and beaming day were spent, Would rest, with looks entreating to abide, Too earnest and too sweet ever to be denied. XXVII.

And soon I could not have refused her-thus For ever, day and night, we two were ne'er Parted, but when brief sleep divided us: And when the pauses of the lulling air Of noon beside the sea, had made a lair For her soothed senses, in my arms she slept, And I kept watch over her slumbers there, While, as the shifting visions o'er her swept, Amid her innocent rest by turns she smiled and wept.

XXVIII.

And, in the murmur of her dreams was heard
Sometimes the name of Laon :-suddenly
She would arise, and like the secret bird.
Whom sunset wakens, fill the shore and sky
With her sweet accents-a wild melody!

Hymns which my soul had woven to Freedom, strong
The source of passion whence they rose, to be;
Triumphant strains, which, like a spirit's tongue,
To the inchanted waves that child of glory sung.

XXIX.

Her white arms lifted thro' the shadowy stream.
Of her loose hair-oh, excellently great
Seemed to me then my purpose, the vast theme
Of those impassioned songs, when Cythna sate
Amid the calm which rapture doth create
After its tumult, her heart vibrating,

Her spirit o'er the ocean's floating state

From her deep eyes far wandering, on the wing Of visions that were mine, beyond its utmost spring.

XXX.

For, before Cythna loved it, had my song
Peopled with thoughts the boundless universe,
A mighty congregation, which were strong
Where'er they trod the darkness to disperse
The cloud of that unutterable curse

Which clings upon mankind:-all things became
Slaves to my holy and heroic verse,

Earth, sea and sky, the planets, life and fame

And fate, or whate'er else binds the world's wondrous frame.

XXXI.

And this beloved child thus felt the sway
Of my conceptions, gathering like a cloud
The very wind on which it rolls away:

Her's too were all my thoughts, ere yet endowed
With music and with light, their fountains flowed.
In poesy; and her still and earnest face,

Pallid with feelings which intensely glowed

Within, was turned on mine with speechless grace, Watching the hopes which there her heart had learned to trace.

XXXII.

In me, communion with this purest being
Kindled intenser zeal, and made me wise

In knowledge, which in her's mine own mind seeing,
Left in the human world few mysteries:

How without fear of evil or disguise

Was Cythna-what a spirit strong and mild,
Which death, or pain or peril could despise,
Yet melt in tenderness! what genius wild

Yet mighty, was inclosed within one simple child!

XXXIII.

New lore was this-old age with its grey hair,
And wrinkled legends of unworthy things,

And icy sneers, is nought: it cannot dare

To burst the chains which life for ever flings
On the entangled soul's aspiring wings,

So is it cold and cruel, and is made

The careless slave of that dark power which brings
Evil, like blight on man, who still betrayed,

Laughs o'er the grave in which his living hopes are laid.