Made the invisible water white as snow; From that Typhæan mount, Inarime, There streamed a sunlight vapour, like the standard 45 Of some ætherial host; Whilst from all the coast, Louder and louder, gathering round, there wandered Over the oracular woods and divine sea Prophesyings which grew articulate They seize me I must speak them 50 be they fate! STROPHE α. I. Naples! thou Heart of men which ever pantest Naked, beneath the lidless eye of heaven! Elysian City which to calm enchantest The mutinous air and sea: they round thee, even 55 As sleep round Love, are driven ! Metropolis of a ruined Paradise Long lost, late won, and yet but half regained! Bright Altar of the bloodless sacrifice, Which armèd Victory offers up unstained 60 To Love, the flower-enchained! Thou which wert once, and then didst cease to be, 65 Now art, and henceforth ever shalt be, free, STROPHE B. 2. Thou youngest giant birth Which from the groaning earth Leap'st, clothed in armour of impenetrable scale! Last of the Intercessors! Who 'gainst the Crowned Transgressors Pleadest before God's love! Arrayed in Wisdom's mail, 70 Wave thy lightning lance in mirth, Nor let thy high heart fail, Though from their hundred gates the leagued Oppressors, With hurried legions move! Hail, hail, all hail! ANTISTROPHE a. What though Cimmerian Anarchs dare blaspheme To make their blind slaves see, and with fierce gleam A new Actæon's error Shall theirs have been — devoured by their own hounds! Be thou like the imperial Basilisk Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! Gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk ANTISTROPHE B. 2. From Freedom's form divine, From Nature's inmost shrine, Strip every impious gawd, rend Error veil by veil : O'er Ruin desolate, O'er Falsehood's fallen state, Sit thou sublime, unawed; be the Destroyer pale! And equal laws be thine, And winged words let sail, Freighted with truth even from the throne of God: That wealth, surviving fate, 75 80 85 90 95 100 ANTISTROPHE a. y. Didst thou not start to hear Spain's thrilling paan Till silence became music? From the Ææan Starts to hear thine! The Sea Which paves the desert streets of Venice laughs The viper's palsying venom, lifts her heel ANTISTROPHE B. Y. Florence! beneath the sun, Of cities fairest one, Blushes within her bower for Freedom's expectation: From eyes of quenchless hope Rome tears the priestly cope, As ruling once by power, so now by admiration, From a remoter station 105 ΠΟ 115 120 For the high prize lost on Philippi's shore: 125 EPODE I. B. Hear ye the march as of the Earth-born Forms The crash and darkness of a thousand storms Bursting their inaccessible abodes Of crags and thunder-clouds? 130 See ye the banners blazoned to the day, Inwrought with emblems of barbaric pride? The serene Heaven which wraps our Eden wide The Anarchs of the North lead forth their legions An hundred tribes nourished on strange religions Famished wolves that bide no waiting, Blotting the glowing footsteps of old glory, Their dull and savage lust On Beauty's corse to sickness satiating They come! The fields they tread look black and hoary With fire- from their red feet the streams run gory! EPODE II. B. Great Spirit, deepest Love! Which rulest, and dost move All things which live and are, within the Italian shore; Whose woods, rocks, waves, surround it, Who sittest in thy star, o'er Ocean's western floor; 135 140 145 150 155 The sunbeams and the showers distil its foison From the Earth's bosom chill; O bid those beams be each a blinding brand Of lightning! bid those showers be dews of poison! Bid the Earth's plenty kill! Bid thy bright Heaven above, Be their tomb who planned To make it ours and thine! 160 Or, with thine harmonizing ardours fill Be man's high hope and unextinct desire The instrument to work thy will divine! 165 Then clouds from sunbeams, antelopes from leopards, 170 And frowns and fears from Thee, Would not more swiftly flee Than Celtic wolves from the Ausonian shepherds. Whatever, Spirit, from thy starry shrine Thou yieldest or withholdest, Oh let be This city of thy worship ever free! August 17-25, 1820. 175 GOOD NIGHT. I. Good night? ah! no; the hour is ill Then it will be good night. II. How can I call the lone night good, Be it not said, thought, understood, III. To hearts which near each other move 1820. 5 1Ο |