230 Yea, by that law, another race may drive My dispossessor? Have ye seen his face? Give consolation in this woe extreme. Whether through poz'd2 conviction, or 245 They guarded silence, when Oceanus Left murmuring, what deepest thought can But so it was, none answer'd for a space, plain 'd, The dull shell's echo, from a bowery strand 275 Just opposite, an island of the sea, There came enchantment with the shifting wind, That did both brown and keep alive my ears. I threw my shell away upon the sand, 285 And then another, then another strain, To hover round my head, and make me sick Of joy and grief at once. Grief overcame, 290 And I was stopping up my frantic ears, When, past all hindrance of my trembling 250 With hectic lips, and eyes up-looking mild, 295 255 There to remain forever, as I fear: I would not bode of evil, if I thought So weak a creature could turn off the help 300 Yet let me tell my sorrow, let me tell I stood upon a shore, a pleasant shore, Where a sweet clime was breathed from a land Of fragrance, quietness, and trees, and flowers. 265 Full of calm joy it was, as I of grief; Too full of joy, and soft delicious warmth; And murmur'd into it, and made melody- hands, Of huge Enceladus swallow'd it in wrath: 305 The ponderous syllables, like sullen waves In the half-glutted hollows of reef-rocks, Came booming thus, while still upon his arm He lean'd; not rising, from supreme contempt. "Or shall we listen to the over-wise, Not thunderbolt on thunderbolt, till all Could agonize me more than baby-words 315 In midst of this dethronement horrible. Speak! roar! shout! yell! ye sleepy Titans all. Do ye forget the blows, the buffets vile? Dost thou forget, sham Monarch of the 320 Thy scalding in the seas? What! have I rous'd Your spleens with so few simple words as O joy! for now I see ye are not lost: 325 He lifted up his stature vast, and stood, And purge the ether1 of our enemies; How to feed fierce the crooked stings of fire, 330 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: 335 The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled; 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, 365 Mantled before in darkness and huge shade, Now saw the light and made it terrible. The misery his brilliance had betray'd 370 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 375 To one who travels from the dusking East: Sighs, too, as mournful as that Memnon's harp,1 Those days, all innocent of scathing war, 380 That was before our brows were taught to 340 Before our lips knew else but solemn 385 sounds; That was before we knew the winged thing, All eyes were on Enceladus's face, name Flew from his lips up to the vaulted rocks, A pallid gleam across his features stern: 350 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 355 When the prow sweeps into a midnight cove. In pale and silver silence they remain 'd, 360 And every gulf, and every chasm old, 1 upper regions He utter'd, while his hands contemplative He press'd together, and in silence stood. Despondence seiz'd 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 Iäpetus, and Creüs too, And Phoreus, sea-born, and together strode To where he towered on his eminence. There those four shouted forth old Sat urn's name; Hyperion from the peak loud answered, "Saturn!" Saturn sat near the Mother of the Gods, 390 In whose face was no joy, though all the Gods Gave from their hollow throats the name of "Saturn!"' BOOK III Many a fallen old Divinity Wandering in vain about bewildered shores. 10 Meantime touch piously the Delphic harp, And not a wind of heaven but will breathe In aid soft warble from the Dorian flute; For lo! 'tis for the Father of all verse. Flush every thing that hath a vermeil hue, 15 Let the rose glow intense and warm the air, And let the clouds of even and of morn Float in voluptuous fleeces o'er the hills; Let the red wine within the goblet boil, Cold as a bubbling well; let faint-lipp'd shells, 20 On sands, or in great deeps, vermilion turn Through all their labyrinths; and let the maid Blush keenly, as with some warm kiss surpris'd. Chief isle of the embowered Cyclades, Rejoice, O Delos, with thine olives green, 25 And poplars, and lawn-shading palms, and beech, In which the Zephyr breathes the loudest 50 55 How cam'st thou over the unfooted sea? The fallen leaves, when I have sat alone Goddess! I have beheld those eyes before, 60 And their eternal calm, and all that face, Or I have dream'd."-"Yes," said the supreme shape, "Thou hast dream'd of me; and awaking 90 And then upon the grass I sit, and moan, 135 Apollo shriek 'd;-and lo! from all his Like one who once had wings.-O why should I Feel curs'd and thwarted, when the liegeless air Yields to my step aspirant? why should I Spurn the green turf as hateful to my feet? 95 Goddess benign, point forth some unknown thing: Are there not other regions than this isle? What are the stars? There is the sun, the sun! And the most patient brilliance of the moon! And stars by thousands! Point me out the 100 To any one particular beauteous star, I have heard the cloudy thunder: Where Whose hand, whose essence, what divinity 105 Makes this alarum in the elements, While I here idle listen on the shores groves! Mute thou remainest-mute! yet I can read 115 Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once 120 And so become immortal."-Thus the God, limbs Celestial Of pale immortal death, and with a pang 25 130 Die into life: so young Apollo anguish 'd: cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep. Steady thy laden head across a brook; Thou watchest the last oozings hours [BURFORD BRIDGE, November 22, 1817.] My dear Bailey-I will get over the first part of this (unsaid) letter as soon as possible, for it relates to the affairs of poor Cripps.-To a man of your nature such a 5 letter as Haydon's must have been extremely cutting What occasions the greater part of the world's quarrels?- simply this-two minds meet, and do not understand each other time enough to prevent any shock or surprise at the conduct of either partyAs soon as I had known Haydon three days, I had got enough of his character not to have been surprised at such a letter as he has hurt you with. Nor, when I knew it, was it a principle with me to drop his acquaintance; although with you it would have been an imperious feeling. 10 15 20 25 I wish you knew all that I think about genius and the heart-and yet I think that you are thoroughly acquainted with my innermost breast in that respect, or you could not have known me even thus long, and still hold me worthy to be your dear friend. In passing, however, I must say one thing that has pressed upon me lately, and increased my humility and capability of submission-and that is this truth-men of genius are great as certain ethereal chemicals operating on the mass of neutral intellect30 but they have not any individuality, any determined character-I would call the top and head of those who have a proper self,1 men of power. 35 40 But I am running my head into a subject which I am certain I could not do justice to under five years' study, and 3 vols. octavo -and, moreover, I long to be talking about the imagination-so my dear Bailey, do not think of this unpleasant affair, if possible do not-I defy any harm to come of itI defy. I shall write to Cripps this week, and request him to tell me all his goings-on from time to time by letter wherever I may be. It will go on well-so don't because you have suddenly discovered a coldness in Haydon suffer yourself to be teased-Do not my dear fellow-O! I wish I was as certain of the end of all your troubles as that of your momentary start about the 50 authenticity of the imagination. I am certain of nothing but of the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination. What the imagination seizes as 1 That is, those who have an individuality. 45 |