XXXV.

"Alas, our thoughts flow on with stream, whose waters
Return not to their fountain-Earth and Heaven,
The Ocean and the Sun, the clouds their daughters,
Winter, and Spring, and Morn, and Noon, and Even,
All that we are or know, is darkly driven
Towards one gulph-Lo! what a change is come

Since I first spake-but time shall be forgiven,

Tho' it change all but thee!"-She ceased, night's gloom Meanwhile had fallen on earth from the sky's sunless dome.

XXXVI.

Tho' she had ceased, her countenance uplifted
To Heaven, still spake, with solemn glory bright;
Her dark deep eyes, her lips, whose motions gifted
The air they breathed with love, her locks undight;
"Fair star of life and love," I cried, "my soul's delight,1
Why lookest thou on the crystalline2 skies?

O, that my spirit were yon Heaven of night,
Which gazes on thee with its thousand eyes!"

She turned to me and smiled-that smile was Paradise!

Canto Tenth.

I.

WAS there a human spirit in the steed,

That thus with his proud voice, ere night was gone,
He broke our linkèd rest? or do indeed
All living things a common nature own,
And thought erect an1 universal throne,
Where many shapes one tribute ever bear?
And Earth, their mutual mother, does she groan

To see her sons contend? and makes she bare

Her breast, that all in peace its drainless stores may share?

II.

I have heard friendly sounds from many a tongue,

Which was not human-the lone Nightingale

Has answered me with her most soothing song,

Out of her ivy bower, when I sate pale

With grief, and sighed beneath; from many a dale
The Antelopes who flocked for food have spoken
With happy sounds, and motions, that avail

Like man's own speech; and such was now the token Of waning night, whose calm by that proud neigh was broken.

1 We have a for an in Mrs. Shelley's and Mr. Rossetti's editions.

III.

Each night, that mighty steed bore me abroad,
And I returned with food to our retreat,
And dark intelligence; the blood which flowed
Over the fields, had stained the courser's feet;-
Soon the dust drinks that bitter dew,-then meet
The vulture, and the wild-dog, and the snake,
The wolf, and the hyæna grey, and eat

The dead in horrid truce: their throngs did make Behind the steed, a chasm like waves in a ship's wake.

IV.

For, from the utmost realms of earth, came pouring
The banded slaves whom every despot sent

At that throned1 traitor's summons; like the roaring
Of fire, whose floods the wild deer circumvent
In the scorched pastures of the South; so bent
The armies of the leaguèd kings around

Their files of steel and flame;-the continent

Trembled, as with a zone of ruin bound,

Beneath their feet, the sea shook with their Navies' sound.

V.

From every nation of the earth they came,
The multitude of moving heartless things,
Whom slaves call men: obediently they came,

Like sheep whom from the fold the shepherd brings
To the stall, red with blood; their many kings
Led them, thus erring, from their native land;2
Tartar and Frank, and millions whom the wings
Of Indian breezes lull, and many a band
The Arctic Anarch sent, and

1 Thron'd in Shelley's edition.
2 In Shelley's edition the word here

Idumea's sand,

is home,-clearly an oversight, whether in writing or in correcting the press.

VI.

Fertile in prodigies and lies; so there
Strange natures made a brotherhood of ill.
The desart savage ceased to grasp in fear
His Asian shield and bow, when, at the will
Of Europe's subtler son, the bolt would kill
Some shepherd sitting on a rock secure;

But smiles of wondering joy his face would fill,
And savage sympathy: those slaves impure,
Each one the other thus from ill to ill did lure.

VII.

For traitorously did that foul Tyrant robe

His countenance in lies,-even at the hour

When he was snatched from death, then o'er the globe, With secret signs from many a mountain tower,

With smoke by day, and fire by night, the power

1

Of Kings and Priests, those dark conspirators

He called they knew his cause their own, and swore

Like wolves and serpents, to their mutual wars

Strange truce, with many a rite which Earth and Heaven abhors.

VIII.

Myriads had come-millions were on their way;
The Tyrant past, surrounded by the steel

Of hired assassins, thro' the public way,

Choked with his country's dead:-his footsteps reel
On the fresh blood-he smiles, "Aye, now I feel

I am a King in truth!" he said, and took
His royal seat, and bade the torturing wheel

Be brought, and fire, and pincers, and the hook,
And scorpions; that his soul on its revenge might look.

1 Kings and Priests again given without capitals in Shelley's edition.

2 In Shelley's edition the comma is at wolves instead of at serpents.

IX.

"But first, go slay the rebels-why return

The victor bands," he said, "millions yet live,
Of whom the weakest with one word might turn
The scales of victory yet;-let none survive
But those within the walls-each fifth shall give
The expiation for his brethren here.—

Go forth, and waste and kill!"-"O king, forgive
My speech," a soldier answered-" but we fear
The spirits of the night, and morn is drawing near;

X.

"For we were slaying still without remorse,
And now that dreadful chief beneath my hand
Defenceless lay, when, on a hell-black horse,
An Angel bright as day, waving a brand

Which flashed among the stars, past."-" Dost thou stand
Parleying with me, thou wretch?" the king replied;
"Slaves, bind him to the wheel; and of this band,
Whoso will drag that woman to his side

That scared him thus, may burn his dearest foe beside;

XI.

"And gold and glory shall be his.-Go forth!"
They rushed into the plain.-Loud was the roar
Of their career: the horsemen shook the earth;
The wheeled artillery's speed the pavement tore;
The infantry, file after file did pour

Their clouds on the utmost hills. Five days they slew
Among the wasted fields: the sixth saw gore

Stream thro' the city; on the seventh, the dew

Of slaughter became stiff; and there was peace anew: