That bird was perch’d, as fond and tame, | |
And tamer than upon the tree; | |
A lovely bird, with azure wings, | |
And song that said a thousand things, | |
270 | And seem’d to say them all for me! |
I never saw its like before, | |
I ne’er shall see its likeness more: | |
It seem’d like me to want a mate, | |
But was not half so desolate, | |
275 | And it was come to love me when |
None lived to love me so again, | |
And cheering from my dungeon’s brink, | |
Had brought me back to feel and think. | |
I know not if it late were free, | |
280 | Or broke its cage to perch on mine, |
But knowing well captivity, | |
Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine! | |
Or if it were, in winged guise, | |
A visitant from Paradise; | |
285 | For — Heaven forgive that thought! the while |
Which made me both to weep and smile; | |
I sometimes deem’d that it might be | |
My brother’s soul come down to me; | |
But then at last away it flew, | |
290 | And then ’twas mortal — well I knew, |
For he would never thus have flown, | |
And left me twice so doubly lone, — | |
Lone — as the corse within its shroud, | |
Lone — as a solitary cloud, | |
295 | A single cloud on a sunny day, |
While all the rest of heaven is clear, | |
A frown upon the atmosphere, | |
That hath no business to appear | |
When skies are blue, and earth is gay. | |
XI | |
300 | A kind of change came in my fate, |
My keepers grew compassionate; | |
I know not what had made them so, | |
They were inured to sights of woe, | |
But so it was: — my broken chain | |
305 | With links unfasten’d did remain |
And it was liberty to stride | |
Along my cell from side to side, | |
And up and down, and then athwart, | |
And tread it over every part; | |
310 | And round the pillars one by one, |
Returning where my walk begun, | |
Avoiding only, as I trod, | |
My brothers’ graves without a sod; | |
For if I thought with heedless tread | |
315 | My step profaned their lowly bed, |
My breath came gaspingly and thick, | |
And my crush’d heart fell blind and sick. | |
XII | |
I made a footing in the wall, | |
It was not therefrom to escape, | |
320 | For I had buried one and all |
Who loved me in a human shape; | |
And the whole earth would henceforth be | |
A wider prison unto me: | |
No child — no sire — no kin had I, | |
325 | No partner in my misery; |
I thought of this, and I was glad, | |
For thought of them had made me mad; | |
But I was curious to ascend | |
To my barr’d windows, and to bend | |
330 | Once more, upon the mountains high, |
The quiet of a loving eye. | |
XIII | |
I saw them — and they were the same, | |
They were not changed like me in frame; | |
I saw their thousand years of snow | |
335 | On high — their wide long lake below, |
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow | |
I heard the torrents leap and gush | |
O’er channell’d rock and broken bush; | |
I saw the white-wall’d distant town, | |
340 | And whiter sails go skimming down; |
And then there was a little isle, | |
Which in my very face did smile, | |
The only one in view; | |
A small green isle, it seem’d no more, | |
345 | Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, |
But in it there were three tall trees, | |
And o’er it blew the mountain breeze, | |
And by it there were waters flowing | |
And on it there were young flowers growing, | |
350 | Of gentle breath and hue. |
The fish swam by the castle wall, | |
And they seem’d joyous each and all; | |
The eagle rode the rising blast, | |
Methought he never flew so fast | |
355 | As then to me he seem’d to fly, |
And then new tears came in my eye, | |
And I felt troubled — and would fain | |
I had not left my recent chain; | |
And when I did descend again, | |
360 | The darkness of my dim abode |
Fell on me as a heavy load; | |
It was as is a new-dug grave, | |
Closing o’er one we sought to save, — | |
And yet my glance, too much oppress’d, | |
365 | Had almost need of such a rest. |
XIV | |
It might be months, or years, or days, | |
I kept no count — I took no note, | |
I had no hope my eyes to raise, | |
And clear them of their dreary mote; | |
370 | At last men came to set me free, |
I ask’d not why, and reck’d not where, | |
It was at length the same to me, | |
Fetter’d or fetterless to be, | |
I learn’d to love despair. | |
375 | And thus when they appear’d at last, |
And all my bonds aside were cast, | |
These heavy walls to me had grown | |
A hermitage — and all my own! | |
And half I felt as they were come | |
380 | To tear me from a second home: |
With spiders I had friendship made, | |
And watch’d them in their sullen trade, | |
Had seen the mice by moonlight play, | |
And why should I feel less than they? | |
385 | We were all inmates of one place, |
And I, the monarch of each race, | |
Had power to kill — yet, strange to tell! | |
In quiet we had learn’d to dwell — | |
My very chains and I grew friends, | |
390 | So much a long communion tends |
To make us what we are: — even I | |
Regain’d my freedom with a sigh. |
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 | |
5 | 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: | |
10 | 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 | |
15 | To look once more into each other’s face; |
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye | |
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch: | |
A fearful hope was all the world contain’d; | |
Forests were set on fire – but hour by hour | |
20 | They fell and faded – and the crackling trunks |
Extinguish’d with a crash – and all was black. | |
The brows of men by the despairing light | |
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits | |
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down | |
25 | And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest |
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled; | |
And others hurried to and fro, and fed | |
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up | |
With mad disquietude on the dull sky, | |
30 | The pall of a past world; and then again |
With curses cast them down upon the dust, | |
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d, | |
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, | |
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes | |
35 | Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d |
And twined themselves among the multitude, | |
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 | |
40 | 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 | |
45 | 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 one, | |
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept | |
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay, | |
50 | Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead |
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, | |
But with a piteous and perpetual moan, | |
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand | |
Which answer’d not with a caress – he died. | |
55 | The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two |
Of an enormous city did survive, | |
And they were enemies: they met beside | |
The dying embers of an altar-place | |
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things | |
60 | 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 | |
65 | 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 was void, | |
70 | The populous and the powerful was a lump, |
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — | |
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; | |
75 | 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; | |
80 | 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. | |
Diodati, July, 1816. |