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And murmur'd into it, and made melody-
O melody no more! for while I sang,
And with poor

skill let

pass

into the breeze
The dull shell's echo, from a bowery strand
Just opposite, an island of the sea,
There came enchantment with the shifting wind
That did both drown and keep alive my ears.
I threw my shell away upon the sand,
And a wave fill’d it, as my sense was fill’d
With that new blissful golden melody.
A living death was in each gush of sounds,
Each family of rapturous hurried notes,
That fell, one after one, yet all at once,
Like pearl beads dropping sudden from their

string :
And then another, then another strain,
Each like a dove leaving its olive perch,
With music wing'd instead of silent plumes,
To hover round my head, and make me sick
Of joy and grief at once.

Grief overcame,
And I was stopping up my frantic ears,
When, past all hindrance of my trembling hands,
A voice came sweeter, sweeter than all tune,
And still it cried, 'Apollo ! young Apollo !
The morning-bright Apollo ! young Apollo!'
I fled, it follow'd me, and cried, 'Apollo !
O Father, and O Brethren! had

ye

felt Those pains of mine! O Saturn, hadst thou felt, Ye would not call this too indulged tongue Presumptuous, in thus venturing to be heard ! ”

his arm

So far her voice flow'd on, like timorous brook That, lingering along a pebbled coast, Doth fear to meet the sea : but sea it met, And shudder'd; for the overwhelming voice Of huge Enceladus swallow'd it in wrath : The ponderous syllables, like sullen waves In the half-glutted hollows of reef-rocks, Came booming thus, while still upon He lean'd; not rising, from supreme contempt. “ Or shall we listen to the over-wise, Or to the over-foolish giant, Gods? Not thunderbolt on thunderbolt, till all That rebel Jove's whole armoury were spent, Not world on world upon these shoulders piled, Could agonize me more than baby-words In midst of this dethronement horrible.. Speak! roar! shout! yell! ye sleepy Titans all. Do ye forget the blows, the buffets vile? Are ye not smitten by a youngling arm ? Dost thou forget, sham Monarch of the Waves, Thy scalding in the seas ? What! have I roused Your spleens with so few simple words as these? O joy! for now I see ye are not lost : O joy! for now I see a thousand eyes Wide glaring for revenge.”-As this he said, He lifted up his stature vast, and stood, Still without intermission speaking thus : “ Now ye are flames, I'll tell you how to burn, And purge

the ether of our enemies; How to feed fierce the crooked stings of fire,

And singe away the swollen clouds of Jove,
Stifling that puny essence in its tent.
O let him feel the evil he hath done ;
For though I scorn Oceanus's lore,
Much pain have I for more than loss of realms :
The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled ;
Those days, all innocent of scathing war,
When all the fair Existences of heaven
Came open-eyed to guess what we would

speak
That was before our brows were taught to frown,
Before our lips knew else but solemn sounds;
That was before we knew the winged thing,
Victory, might be lost, or might be won.
And be ye mindful that Hyperion,
Our brightest brother, still is undisgraced-
Hyperion, lo! his radiance is here !

All eyes were on Enceladus's face,
And they beheld, while still Hyperion's name
Flew from his lips up to the vaulted rocks,
A pallid gleam across his features stern:
Not savage, for he saw full many a God
Wroth as himself. He look'd upon them all,
And in each face he saw a gleam of light,
But splendider in Saturn's, whose hoar locks
Shone like the bubbling foam about a keel
When the prow sweeps into a midnight cove.
In pale and silver silence they remain'd,
Till suddenly a splendour, like the morn,

Pervaded all the beetling gloomy steeps,
All the sad spaces of oblivion,
And every gulf, and every chasm old,
And every height, and every sullen depth,
Voiceless, or hoarse with loud tormented streams:
And all the everlasting cataracts,
And all the headlong torrents far and near,
Mantled before in darkness and huge shade,
Now saw the light and made it terrible.
It was Hyperion :-a granite peak
His bright feet touch'd, and there he staid to

view
The misery his brilliance had betray'd
To the most hateful seeing of itself.
Golden his hair of short Numidian curl,
Regal his shape majestic, a vast shade
In midst of his own brightness, like the bulk
Of Memnon's image at the set of sun
To one who travels from the dusking East:
Sighs, too, as mournful as that Memnon's harp,
He utter'd, while his hands, contemplative,
He press'd together, and in silence stood.
Despondence seized again the fallen Gods
At sight of the dejected King of Day,
And
many

hid their faces from the light:
But fierce Enceladus sent forth his eyes
Among the brotherhood; and, at their glare,
Uprose läpetus, and Creüs too,
And Phorcus, sea-born, and together strode
To where he tower'd on his eminence.

There those four shouted forth old Saturn's name;
Hyperion from the peak loud answer'd“ Saturn!”
Saturn sat near the Mother of the Gods,
In whose face was no joy, though all the Gods
Gave from their hollow throats the name of

“ Saturn!”

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