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Hence, swift hour! and quench thy Which, like flowers, will burst from them.
As the fruit is to the tree
May their children ever be !

Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.

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So that as if a frozen torrent

The golden gate of Sleep unbar,

When Strength and Beauty, met together,


The blood was curdled in its current ; dared not speak, even in look or motion,

Kindle their image, like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
May the purple mist of love
Round them rise, and with them move,
Nourishing each tender gem

But chained within itself its proud

Between Desire and Fear thou wert
A wretched thing, poor heart!

Sad was his life who bore thee in his Who from yon thrones pinnacled on the breast,

Wild bird for that weak nest. Till Love even from fierce Desire it bought,

And from the very wound of tender thought

Drew solace, and the pity of sweet eyes Gave strength to bear those gentle agonies,

Surmount the loss, the terror, and the Before your Father's throne; the swift



Then Hope approached, she who
can borrow

For poor to-day, from rich to


And Fear withdrew, as night when


Descends upon the orient ray,
And after long and vain endurance
The poor heart woke to her assur-


Herald of Eternity. It is the day when all the sons of God Wait in the roofless senate-house, whose floor

Is Chaos, and the immovable abyss
Frozen by his steadfast word to hyaline

The shadow of God, and delegate
Of that before whose breath the universe
Is as a print of dew.

past Sway the reluctant present, ye who sit Pavilioned on the radiance or the gloom Of mortal thought, which like an exhalation

Steaming from earth, conceals the of heaven

Which gave it birth,



-At one birth these four were born
With the world's forgotten morn,
And from Pleasure still they hold
All it circles, as of old.
When, as summer lures the swallow,
Pleasure lures the heart to follow-To their appointed place,
O weak heart of little wit!
The fair hand that wounded it,
Seeking, like a panting hare,
Refuge in the lynx's lair,
Love, Desire, Hope, and Fear,
Ever will be near.

Whilst the high Arbiter

Beholds the strife, and at the appointed


Sends his decrees veiled in eternal. . .


Yet hovers, and the fiery incarnation
Is yet withheld, clothed in which it shall

The fairest of those wandering isles that gem

The sapphire space of interstellar air,
That green and azure sphere, that earth

Less in the beauty of its tender light
Than in an atmosphere of living spirit
Which interpenetrating all the ..
it rolls from realm to realm
And age to age, and in its ebb and

Impels the generations


Temples and cities and immortal forms
And harmonies of wisdom and of song,
And thoughts, and deeds worthy of
thoughts so fair.

And when the sun of its dominion failed,
And when the winter of its glory came,
The winds that stript it bare blew on
and swept
Hierarchs and kings | That dew into the utmost wildernesses

Within the circuit of this pendant orb There lies an antique region, on which fell

The dews of thought in the world's golden dawn

Earliest and most benign, and from it

In wandering clouds of sunny rain that Low-kneeling at the feet of Destiny thawed

The unmaternal bosom of the North. Haste, sons of God, for ye


Reluctant, or consenting, or astonished, The stern decrees go forth, which heaped on Greece

And with their bitter dew two Destinies Filled each their irrevocable urns; the third,

Ruin and degradation and despair.

A fourth now waits: assemble, sons of Fiercest and mightiest, mingled both,

and added

Chaos and Death, and slow Oblivion's lymph,

And hate and terror, and the poisoned rain


To speed or to prevent or to suspend,
If, as ye dream, such power be not with-


The unaccomplished destiny.

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There are two fountains in which spirits weep

When mortals err, Discord and Slavery named,

The senate of the Gods is met,
Each in his rank and station set;

There is silence in the spaces-
Lo! Satan, Christ, and Mahomet
Start from their places!
Almighty Father!

The Aurora of the nations. By this


Whose pores wept tears of blood, by these wide wounds,

By this imperial crown of agony,
By infamy and solitude and death,
For this I underwent, and by the pain
Of pity for those who would


The unremembered joy of a revenge,
For this I felt by Plato's sacred light,
Of which my spirit was a burning


By Greece and all she cannot cease to


Her quenchless words, sparks of immortal truth,

Stars of all night-her harmonies and forms,

Echoes and shadows of what Love

In thee, I do compel thee, send forth

Thy irrevocable child: let her descend
A seraph-winged victory [arrayed]
In tempest of the omnipotence of God
Which sweeps through all things.

From hollow leagues, from Tyranny which arms

Adverse miscreeds and emulous anarchies To stamp, as on a winged serpent's seed,

Upon the name of Freedom; from the Of Him who sends thee forth, whate'er


thy task,

Of faction, which like earthquake shakes Speed, spare not to accomplish, and be and sickens mine

Thy trophies, whether Greece again


The solid heart of enterprise; from all By which the holiest dreams of highest spirits

Are stars beneath the dawn ...
She shall arise
Victorious as the world arose from

And as the Heavens and the Earth

Their presence in the beauty and the light

Of thy first smile, O Father, as they gather

The spirit of thy love which paves for them

Their path o'er the abyss, till every sphere

Shall be one living Spirit, so shall

Which pierces thee! whose throne a chair of scorn;

The fountain in the desert whence the earth

Shall drink of freedom, which shall give it strength

Insatiate Superstition still shall . .
The earth behind thy steps, and War
shall hover

Satan. Be as all things beneath the Above, and Fraud shall gape below, and



Mine! Art thou eyeless like old Des- Shall fit before thee on her dragon tiny, wings,

To suffer, or a gulph of hollow death
To swallow all delight, all life, all hope.
Go, thou Vicegerent of my will, no


The innumerable worlds of golden light Which are my empire, and the least of them

Than of the Father's; but lest thou shouldst faint,

The winged hounds, Famine and Pestilence,

Shall wait on thee, the hundred-forkèd snake

Thou mockery-king, crowned with a Convulsing and consuming, and I add wreath of thorns? Three vials of the tears which demons Whose sceptre is a reed, the broken weep reed

When virtuous spirits through the gate of Death

Pass triumphing over the thorns of life, For seest thou not beneath this crystal Sceptres and crowns, mitres and swords floor and snares,

Trampling in scorn, like Him and

The first is Anarchy; when Power and

which thou would'st redeem from me?

Know'st thou not them my portion? Or wouldst rekindle the strife tree, Which our great Father then did arbi- Then pour it forth, and men shall gather



Which he assigned to his competing The second Tyranny


Glory and science and security,

On Freedom hang like fruit on the green

Each his apportioned realm ?

Christ. Obdurate spirit! Thou seest but the Past in the Tocome.

Thou Destiny, Thou who art mailed in the omnipotence | Pride is thy error and thy punishment.

Boast not thine empire, dream not that thy worlds

Or could the morning shafts of purest light

Are more than furnace-sparks or rain- Again into the quivers of the Sun bow-drops Be gathered-could one thought from its wild flight

Before the Power that wields and kindles them.

True greatness asks not space, true excellence

Lives in the Spirit of all things that live, Which lends it to the worlds thou callest thine.


Haste thou and


fill the waning crescent A star has fallen upon the earth With beams as keen as those which 'Mid the benighted nations, pierced the shadow Of Christian night rolled back upon the West

When the orient moon of Islam rode in triumph

From Tmolus to the Acroceraunian snow.

Wake, thou Word Of God, and from the throne of Destiny Even to the utmost limit of thy way May Triumph

A quenchless atom of immortal light,
A living spark of Night,

A cresset shaken from the constellations.
Swifter than the thunder feil

To the heart of Earth, the well
Where its pulses flow and beat,
And unextinct in that cold source
Burns, and on
Guides the sphere which is its prison,
Like an angelic spirit pent


Be thou a curse on them whose

In a form of mortal birth,
Till, as a spirit half arisen
Shatters its charnel, it has rent,
In the rapture of its mirth,

Divides and multiplies the most high The thin and painted garment of the




FAIREST of the Destinies,
Disarray thy dazzling eyes:
Keener far thy lightnings are
Than the winged [bolts] thou

Return into the temple of the brain Without a change, without a stain,


And the smile thou wearest

Could aught that is, ever again
Be what it once has ceased to be,
Greece might again be free!

Wraps thee as a star

Is wrapt in light.


Ruining its chaos-a fierce breath
Consuming all its forms of living death.


I WOULD not be a king-enough
Of woe it is to love;

The path to power is steep and rough,
And tempests reign above.

I would not climb the imperial throne;
'Tis built on ice which fortune's sun
Thaws in the height of noon,
Then farewell, king, yet were I one
Care would not come so soon.
Would he and I were far away


Could Arethuse to her forsaken urn

From Alpheus and the bitter Doris run, | Keeping flocks on Himalay!

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