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As in the accents of an unknown land
Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow, Which was like Cain's or Christ's — oh! that it should be so !
XXXV What softer voice is hushed over the dead ? Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown? What form leans sadly o'er the white death-bed, In mockery of monumental stone, The heavy heart heaving without a moan? If it be He, who, gentlest of the wise, Taught, soothed, loved, honored the departed one,
Let me not vex with inharmonious sighs The silence of that heart's accepted sacrifice.
XXXVI Our Adonais has drunk poison — oh, What deaf and viperous murderer could crown Life's early cup with such a draught of woe? The nameless worm would now itself disown; It felt, yet could escape the magic tone Whose prelude held all envy, hate and wrong, But what was howling in one breast alone,
Silent with expectation of the song, Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.
Thou noteless blot on a remembered name!
Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret brow,
Nor let us weep that our delight is fled
same, Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame.
XXXIX Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not
sleep He hath awakened from the dream of life 'Tis we, who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings. We decay Like corpses in a
in a charnel ; fear and grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our
He has outsoared the shadow of our night;
Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.
He lives, he wakes — 'tis Death is dead, not he;
thrown O'er the abandoned Earth, now leave it bare Even to the joyous stars which smile on its de
He is made one with Nature: there is heard
Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
He is a portion of the loveliness
bear His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compel
ling there All new successions to the forms they wear, Torturing the unwilling dross that checks its
And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light.
XLIV The splendors of the firmament of time May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not ; Like stars to their appointed height they climb, And death is a low mist which cannot blot The brightness it may veil.
When lofty thought Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair, And love and life contend in it for what
Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.
XLV The inheritors of unfulfilled renown Rose from their thrones, built beyond mortal
Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton
Arose ; and Lucan, by his death approved ; Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reproved.
XLVI And many more, whose names on earth are
dark But whose transmitted effluence cannot die So long as fire outlives the parent spark, Rose, robed in dazzling immortality. - Thou art become as one of us,” they cry ; “ It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long Swung blind in unascended majesty,
Silent alone amid an Heaven of song. Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper of our
Who mourns for Adonais ? Oh, come forth, Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright. Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous
Earth; As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might Satiate the void circumference; then shrink Even to a point within our day and night; And keep thy heart light lest it make thee
sink When hope has kindled hope, and lured thee to