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The terror of the thrilling cry
Now, since the fury Upon that shattered prow,
Of this earthquaking hurricane is still, That they who die not may be dying still.
And the crystalline heaven has reassumed And not alone the insane elements
Its windless calm so quickly, that it seems Are populous with wild portents,
As if its heavy wrath had been awakened But that sad ship is as a miracle
Only to overwhelm that vessel,--speak,
Who art thou, and whence comest thou ?
Far more It strikes—I almost feel the shock, It stumbles on a jagged rock,
My coming hither cost than thou hast seen, Sparkles of blood on the white foam are cast.
Or I can tell. Among my misadventures
This shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou hear? A tempest-All exclaim within We are all lost !
Since thou desirest, I will then unveil
Myself to thee;—for in myself I-am
A world of happiness and misery ;
This I have lost, and that I must lament
For ever. In my attributes I stood Great form is in a watery eclipse
So high and so heroically great, Obliterated from the Ocean's page,
In lineage so supreme, and with a genius And round its wreck the huge sea-monsters sit,
Which penetrated with a glance the world A horrid conclave, and the whistling wave
Beneath my feet, that won by my high merit Are heaped over its carcase, like a grave.
A king—whom I may call the King of kings,
Because all others tremble in their pride
Before the terrors of his countenance,
In his high palace roofed with brightest gems DÆMON (aside). It was essential to my purposes
Of living light-call them the stars of HeavenTo wake a tumult on the sapphire ocean,
Named me his counsellor. But the high praise That in this unknown form I might at length
Stung me with pride and envy, and I rose Wipe out the blot of the discomfiture
In mighty competition, to ascend Sustained upon the mountain, and assail
His seat, and place my foot triumphantly With a new war the soul of Cyprian,
Upon his subject thrones. Chastised, I know Forging the instruments of his destruction
The depth to which ambition falls; too mad Even from his love and from his wisdom.-0
Was the attempt, and yet more mad were now Beloved earth, dear mother, in thy bosom
Repentance of the irrevocable deed :
Therefore I chose this ruin with the glory
Of not to be subdued, before the shame
Of reconciling me with him who reigns
By coward cession.-Nor was I alone,
Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone;
And there was hope, and there may still be hope, Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrow
For many suffrages among his vassals But as a shadow of the past,—for nothing
Hailed me their lord and king, and many still Beneath the circle of the moon but flows
Are mine, and many more perchance shall be. And changes, and can never know repose.
Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious,
I left his seat of empire, from mine eye
Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words
Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong,
And imprecating on his prostrate slaves
Rapine and death, and outrage. Then I sailed Would soothe its stings.
A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands,
A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves
The expanse of these wide wildernesses
In the light breathings of the invisible wind, Wherefore?
And which the sea has made a dustless ruin,
Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests Because my happiness is lost. I seek a man, whom I must now compel Yet I lament what has long ceased to be
To keep his word with me. I came arrayed The object of desire or memory,
In tempest, and, although my power could well And my life is not life.
Bridle the forest winds in their career,
For other causes I forbore to soothe
A VOICE WITHIN. Their fury to Favonian gentleness;
•What is the glory far above I could and would not: (thus I wake in him (Aside
All else in human life?
Love! love! As his weak sister with unwonted fear;
[While these words are sung, the DÆMON goes out at And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven
one door, and Justina enters at another. Written as in a record. I have pierced The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres,
THE FIRST VOICE. And know them as thou knowest every corner There is no form in which the fire Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee
Of love its traces has impressed not.
Man lives far more in love's desire
If all that lives must love or die,
All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky, Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest With one consent to Heaven cry Of these wild oaks and pines—and as from thee
That the glory far above I have received the hospitality
All else in life is
Love! O love!
Thou melancholy thought, which art And thenceforth shall so firm an amity
So fluttering and so sweet, to thee "Twixt thou and me be, that neither fortune,
When did I give the liberty The monstrous phantom which pursues success,
Thus to afflict my heart? That careful miser, that free prodigal,
What is the cause of this new power Who ever alternates with changeful hand
Which doth my fevered being move, Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time,
Momently raging more and more? That loadstar of the ages, to whose beam
What subtle pain is kindled now The winged years speed o'er the intervals
Which from my heart doth overflow
Into my senses -
Love, O love!
To his mate, who rapt, and fond,
Listening sits, a bough beyond.
Be silent, Nightingale !—No more
Make me think, in hearing thee
Thus tenderly thy love deplore, Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy !
If a bird can feel his so, From thy prison-house set free
What a man would feel for me. The spirits of voluptuous death,
And, voluptuous vine, O thou
Who seekest most when least pursuing,-
And the weight which is its ruin,-
No more, with green embraces, vine, Full to overflowing be!
Make me think on what thou lovest,And, with sweetest harmony,
For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine,
How arms might be entangled too.
Light-enchanted sunflower, thou
Who gazest ever true and tender But sounds of Love's sweet sorrow;
On the sun's revolving splendour, So that from faith no succour may she borrow, Follow not his faithless glance But, guided by my spirit blind
With thy faded countenance, And in a magic snare entwined,
Nor teach my beating heart to fear, She may now seek Cyprian.
If leaves can mourn without a tear, Begin, while I in silence bind
How eyes must weep! 0 Nightingale, My voice, when thy sweet song thou hast begun. Cease from thy enamoured tale,
Leafy vine, unwreath thy bower, Restless sunflower, cease to move,Or tell me all, what poisonous power Ye use against me.
It is invincible ;
[He draws, but cannot more her.
Come, where a pleasure waits thee.
[She becomes troubled at the name of CYPRIAN.
Did I not requite him With such severity, that he has fied Where none has ever heard of him again? Alas! I now begin to fear that this May be the occasion whence desire grows bold, As if there were no danger. From the moment That I pronounced to my own listening heart, Cyprian is absent, O miserable me! I know not what I feel!
It must be pity To think that such a man, whom all the world Admired, should be forgot by all the world, And I the cause. [She again becomes troubled.
And yet if it were pity, Floro and Lelio might have equal share, For they are both imprisoned for my sake. (Calmly. Alas! what reasonings are these? It is Enough I pity him, and that, in vain, Without this ceremonious subtlety. And woe is me! I know not where to find him now, Even should I seek him through this wide world.
DÆMOX. Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.
My defence Consists in God. [lle vainly endearours to force her, and at last
And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither, Into my chamber through the doors and locks? Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madness Has formed in the idle air!
No. I am one Called by the thought which tyrannises thee From his eternal dwelling; who this day Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian.
Woman, thou hast subdued me, Only by not owning thyself subdued. But since thou thus findest defence in God, I will assume a feigned form, and thus Make thee a victim of my baftied rage. For I will mask a spirit in thy form Who will betray thy name to infamy, And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss, First by dishonouring thee, and then by turning False pleasure to true ignominy.
JUSTINA. So shall thy promise fail. This agony Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul May sweep imagination in its storm ; The will is firm.
Already half is done In the imagination of an act. The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains ; Let not the will stop half way on the road.
I Appeal to Heaven against thee ! so that Heaven May scatter thy delusions, and the blot Upon my fame vanish in idle thought, Even as flame dies in the envious air, And as the flow'ret wanes at morning frost, And thou shouldst never-But, alas! to whom Do I still speak ?-Did not a man but now Stand here before me!--No, I am alone, And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly! Or can the heated mind engender shapes From its own fear? Some terrible and strange Peril is near. Lisander ! father! lord! Livia !
I will not be discouraged, nor despair,
Enter LISANDER and LIVIA,
O my daughter; what?
LIVIA, My master 's in the right.
Oh, would it were Delusion ! but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom My heart was torn in fragments; aye, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame; So potent was the charm, that had not God Shielded my humble innocence from wrong, I should have sought my sorrow and my shame With willing steps.—Livia, quick, bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremes Even in the temple of the highest God Which secretly the faithful worship.
Have you not seen him ?
JUSTINA (putting on her cloak).
In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, Wasting away!
I saw him.
And I will go with thee.
FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.
PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.
The LORD and the Host of Heaven.
Enter Three Archangels.
RAPHAEL. The sun makes music as of old
Amid the rival spheres of Heaven, On its predestined circle rolled
With thunder speed: the Angels even Draw strength from gazing on its glance,
Though none its meaning fathom may ;The world's unwithered countenance
Is bright as at creation’s day.
As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough
you not long since given over laughing.
And swift and swift, with rapid lightness,
The adorned Earth spins silently, Alternating Elysian brightness
With deep and dreadful night; the sea Foams in broad billows from the deep
Up to the rocks; and rocks and ocean, Onward, with spheres which never sleep,
Are hurried in eternal motion.
And tempests in contention roar
From land to sea, from sea to land; And, raging, weave a chain of power
Which girds the earth as with a band. A flashing desolation there
Flames before the thunder's way; But thy servants, Lord, revere
The gentle changes of thy day.
CHORUS OF THE THREE.
The Angels draw strength from thy glance,
Though no one comprehend thee may :Thy world's unwithered countenance
Is bright as on creation's day. *
* RAPHAEL The sun sounds, according to ancient custom, In the song of emulation of his brother-spheres, And its fore-written circle Fulfils with a step of thunder. Its countenance gives the Angels strength, Though no one can fathom it. The incredible high works Are excellent as at the first day.
Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,
Are excellent as at the first day. Such is the literal translation of this astonishing Chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification ; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum.-Author's Note.