Am I;-their wild manes o'er wild ocean rolled, Like fire-flakes, wreathe the billows, and their neigh Doth chide the clarion-clang of Ocean old.

I dash amidst them, eager for the fray;

Doth plunge my Charger with me; he doth swim,
Wild in his fierceness, through the flashing spray;
As if a lightning-stroke had blinded him,
And darted phrenzy to his brain, and he
Were maddened with the torture in each limb,
And sweat' and shrieked in sightless agony,
And made huge havoc in his maniac might,
"Till his heart burst. Then, on the exhausted sea,
The waves drop down, and, in the dull twilight,
Lay sluggishly about the riven hulk,

O'er which the day rose sunless as the night,
Or glared portentous on the sail-less bulk
With a red eye and fiery. Lo, I

Chafe Ocean, that he waken from his sulk
Awhile, and blow a gale though weariedly
And brief;-yet unto me the billows spring,
Wild playmates, and a low-breathed harmony
We utter round the hopeless bark, and sing
A doleful and predestinating dirge.

Then droops again old Ocean, murmuring,
Like to a dreaming giant, whom no scourge
May waken more, basking in watchet weeds
Under the calm blue heaven; while on the verge
Of that doomed ship gaunt Famine sits, and feeds
On flesh of men; with Thirst that drinks their blood;
And Pestilence, glad of their savage deeds,

That, shivering at the helmless stern, doth brood,
Couchant o'er carcases. And I am there!

The Crater is my cra'le, . . where, in still mood,
As in the womb the infant, in my lair
Of sulphur I repose, which bubbleth up
So gently, that the traveller well may dare
Descending to the brim of that hot cup;
As if, thus innocent, I might therein
Dissolve, like to a pearl, for lips to sup,
Ay, sweet as Cleopatra's. Now begin
The waters to ferment, and central fire
To howl, and with huge uproar and wild din,
Earth's matrix with prodigious throes heaves dire;
And there, in that capacious cavern, boil

The floods as in a cauldron, and perspire

Through all her pores, making the sea recoil
From the bare shore affrightedly. Anon,
The rocky pillars of the human soil

Shake, and the myriad mountains shiver down,
Vast, subterrane, obscure, with hideous crash,
Hurled by the winds into the abyss unknown;
Then up the billows in fierce anger dash
From chaos, seething like a yeasty wine
Over its bursting vessel; as they clash,
Straight do th' imprisoned vapours fiercely tine,
And rage for vent.
for vent. Earth
Earth gapes convulsively,
And vomits the Volcano. It is mine!

I make the solid ground like to the sea,
And undulate like ocean billowy;

And the columnar smoke,-it chariots me,—
That heaves aloft, a mass, into the sky,
A funereal shade, a broad black stain,
Like the pine's branches. In the flame am I
Wherein the mountain melts, and in the rain
Of ashes, and the lava flood. I burn

In the withering air, and on the molten plain.
Men perish as they flee. When I return

With the swoln Neptune-lo, a vacant coast,
Proud City late, but now an open Urn,
Sepulchring her white ashes, or her ghost.

Strange pangs seize Earth. The sound of rushing wheels,

Whose axles burn with thunder, like a host!
'Tis he of the earth-shaking mace: She reels
Inebriate with the terror of his coming.

He heard the clang of my pale courser's heels,
And roused him at the summons of Death's dooming.
Ay, Demigods are ye? (Then what am I,

Haught Deicide?) Ye who, with wrath consuming
The World into a pyre, would deify

Yourselves, like Hercules, and climb in flame
Audacious to the stars, and shine on high,

So purified by fire. Vaunt ye? Ye came,

And saw, and conquered-what? Worms, ashes, dust.
I war with Heaven, and Him who rules the same,
The Anointed, the Omnipotent, the Just,

The Good, the Wise, the Holy, and the One!
His hand doth drop the golden chain, or must,

(The Father pierced in the begotten Son,)
By which the pendant and terrestrial Orb
Is ordered and sustained. The deed is done!

Lo, hungry Chaos yawneth to resorb
Into his void immeasurable womb

The breathing Universe. Ready, my barb!
Perish! Man-Angel. To the monstrous tomb,
Being and Form, Intelligence and Power;
All things create to unsubstantial gloom!

The engendered hour-the inevitable hour
Born of th❜ unnumbered age by thought untrod―
On the Creator his own heavens do lour.
The Sun dies in his sphere, a kneaded clod,
The empyreal canopy doth bow,

Dissolved in darkness o'er the dying God!

All Hell reverberates with the stricken blow;
Her caves cry to each other, peal for peal,
Yea, all her echoes are rejoicing now-

(What boots it hence their mysteries to conceal ?)—

And, like the voices of the waters, crowd

Together in their rivalry and zeal.