Kingdoms and empires in my little day I have outlived, and yet I am not old; And when I look on this, the petty spray Of my own years of trouble, which have roll'd Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away: Something I know not what-does still uphold A spirit of slight patience;-not in vain, Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain. Perhaps the workings of defiance stir Within me or perhaps a cold despair, Brought on when ills habitually recur,Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air, (For even to this may change of soul refer, And with light armor we may learn to bear,) Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not The chief companion of a calmer lot. I feel almost at times as I have felt In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks, Which do remember me of where I dwelt Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books, Come as of yore upon me, and can melt My heart with recognition of their looks; And even at moments I could think I see Some living thing to love--but none like thee. Here are the Alpine landscapes which create A fund for contemplation;-to admire Here to be lonely is not desolate, And, above all, a lake I can behold Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old. Oh that thou wert but with me!-but I grow The fool of my own wishes, and forget I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet I did remind thee of our own dear Lake By the old Hall which may be mine no more. Leman's is fair; but think not I forsake The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore: Sad havoc Time must with my memory make, Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before; Though, like all things which I have loved, they are Resign'd for ever, or divided far. The world is all before me; I but ask It is but in her summer's sun to bask, My sister-till I look again on thee. I can reduce all feelings but this one; And that I would not;-for at length I see Such scenes as those wherein my life begun. The earliest-even the only paths for My years have been no slumber, but the prey Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share Of life which might have fill'd a century, Before its fourth in time had pass'd me by. And for the remnant which may be to come I am content; and for the past I feel Not thankless,-for within the crowded sum Of struggles, happiness at times would steal, And for the present, I would not benumb My feelings further.-Nor shall I conceal That with all this I still can look around, And worship Nature with a thought profound. For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart I know myself secure, as thou in mine; We were and are-I am, even as thou art Beings who ne'er each other can resign: We are entwined-let death come slow or fast, The tie which bound the first endures the last! July, 1816. 1830. STANZAS FOR MUSIC THEY say that Hope is happiness; But genuine Love must prize the past, And Memory wakes the thoughts that bless: They rose the first-they set the last; And all that Memory loves the most Was once our only Hope to be, And all that Hope adored and lost Hath melted into Memory. Alas! it is delusion all; The future cheats us from afar, Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are. ?... 1829. DARKNESS I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came and went-and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation: and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light; And they did live by watchfires-and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings—the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, And men were gather'd round their blazing homes To look once more into each other's face; Happy were those who dwelt within the Hissing, but stingless-they were slain for food! And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again :-a meal was bought With blood, and each sate sullenly apart Gorging himself in gloom : no love was left; All earth was but one thought—and that was death Immediate and inglorious; and the pang Of famine fed upon all entrails-men Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; The meagre by the meagre were devour'd, Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save Which answer'd not with a caress-he died. The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two Of an enormous city did survive, For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects-saw, and shriek'd, and died Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written Fiend. The world A lump of death-a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths: Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd They slept on the abyss without a surge The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The moon, their mistress, had expired before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need Of aid from them-She was the Universe. July, 1816, December 5, 1816. PROMETHEUS TITAN to whose immortal eyes A silent suffering, and intense; Which speaks but in its loneliness, And then is jealous lest the sky Should have a listener, nor will sigh Until its voice is echoless. Titan! to thee the strife was given And the inexorable Heaven, Was but the menace which flung back And evil dread so ill dissembled, That in his hand the lightnings trembled. Thy Godlike crime was to be kind, Of thine impenetrable Spirit, Which Earth and Heaven could not convulse, A mighty lesson we inherit: Thou art a symbol and a sign To Mortals of their fate and force; Like thee, Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure scurce; And Man in portions can foresee His own funereal destiny; His wretchedness, and his resistance, And his sad unallied existence : To which his Spirit may oppose Itself-and equal to all woes, And a firm will, and a deep sense, Which even in torture can descry Its own concenter'd recompense, Triumphant where it dare defy, And making Death a Victory. July, 1816. December, 1816. SONNET TO LAKE LEMAN ROUSSEAU-Voltaire-our Gibbon-and De Staël Leman! these names are worthy of thy shore, Thy shore of names like these! wert thou no more Their memory thy remembrance would recall: To them thy banks were lovely as to all, But they have made them lovelier, for the lore Of mighty minds doth hallow in the core Of human hearts the ruin of a wall Where dwelt the wise and wondrous; but by thee How much more, Lake of Beauty! do we feel, In sweetly gliding o'er thy crystal sea, The wild glow of that not ungentle zeal, Which of the heirs of immortality Is proud, and makes the breath of glory real! July, 1816. December 5, 1816. It will not burn so long as I must watch: My slumbers-if I slumber-are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men. But grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life. Philosophy and science, and the springs Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world, I have essay'd, and in my mind there is A power to make these subject to itselfBut they avail not : I have done men good, And I have met with good even among men But this avail'd not: I have had my foes, And none have baffled, many fallen be fore me But this avail'd not:-Good, or evil, life, Powers, passions, all I see in other beings, Have been to me as rain unto the sands, Since that all-nameless hour. I have no dread, And feel the curse to have no natural fear, Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes, Or lurking love of something on the earth. Now to my task.— Mysterious agency! Ye spirits of the unbounded Universe! Whom I have sought in darkness and in light Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell In subtler essence-ye, to whom the tops Of mountains inaccessible are haunts, And earth's and ocean's caves familiar things I call upon ye by the written charm Which gives me power upon you-Rise! Appear! [A pause. They come not yet.-Now by the voice of him Who is the first among you-by this sign, Which makes you tremble-by the claims of him Who is undying,-Rise! Appear!- If it be so-Spirits of earth and air, The burning wreck of a demolish'd world, A wandering hell in the eternal space; By the strong curse which is upon my soul, SECOND SPIRIT Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow. Around his waist are forests braced, The Avalanche in his hand; I am the spirit of the place, Could make the mountain bow And quiver to his cavern'd baseAnd what with me wouldst Thou? THIRD SPIRIT In the blue depth of the waters, Where the wave hath no strife, Where the wind is a stranger, And the sea-snake hath life, Where the Mermaid is decking Her green hair with shells, Like the storm on the surface Came the sound of thy spells; O'er my calm Hall of Coral The deep echo roll'd— To the Spirit of Ocean Thy wishes unfold! FOURTH SPIRIT Where the slumbering earthquake Lies pillow'd on fire, And the lakes of bitumen Rise boilingly higher; Where the roots of the Andes Strike deep in the earth, As their summits to heaven Shoot soaringly forth; I have quitted my birthplace, FIFTH SPIRIT I am the Rider of the wind, |