Oh, God! it is a fearful thing I call'd, and thought I heard a sound- The accursed breath of dungeon-dew; I could not die, I had no earthly hope but faith, And that forbade a selfish death. What next befell me then and there I know not well-I never knewFirst came the loss of light, and air, And then of darkness too: I had no thought, no feeling-none- Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless! A light broke in upon my brain,- The sweetest song ear ever heard, A lovely bird, with azure wings, I ne'er shall see its likeness more : I know not if it late were free, Or broke its cage to perch on mine, But knowing well captivity, Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine! Or if it were, in winged guise, A visitant from Paradise ; For-Heaven forgive that thought! the while Which made me both to weep and smile-- I sometimes deem'd that it might be My brother's soul come down to me; But then at last away it flew, And then 'twas mortal well I knew, For he would never thus have flown, And left me twice so doubly lone, Lone as the corse within its shroud, Lone as a solitary cloud, A single cloud on a sunny day, While all the rest of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere, That hath no business to appear When skies are blue, and earth is gay. A kind of change came in my fate, My brothers' graves without a sod; I made a footing in the wall, It was not therefrom to escape, For I had buried one and all Who loved me in a human shape; And the whole earth would henceforth be A wider prison unto me: No child, no sire, no kin had I, No partner in my misery; I thought of this, and I was glad, For thought of them had made me mad ; But I was curious to ascend To my barr'd windows, and to bend I saw them, and they were the same, A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Of gentle breath and hue. It might be months, or years, or days, I ask'd not why, and reck'd not where; It was at length the same to me, Fetter'd or fetterless to be, I learn'd to love despair. And thus when they appear'd at last, STANZAS TO AUGUSTA me, Nor, mute, that the world might belie. Yet I blame not the world, nor despise it, Nor the war of the many with one; If my soul was not fitted to prize it, 'Twas folly not sooner to shun: And if dearly that error hath cost me, And more than I once could foresee, I have found that, whatever it lost me, It could not deprive me of thee. From the wreck of the past, which hath perish'd, Thus much I at least may recall, It hath taught me that what I most cherish'd Deserved to be dearest of all: Kingdoms and empires in my little day I have outlived, and yet I am not old; And when I look on this, the petty spray Of my own years of trouble, which have roll'd Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away: Something I know not what-does still uphold A spirit of slight patience;-not in vain, Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain. Perhaps the workings of defiance stir Within me or perhaps a cold despair, Brought on when ills habitually recur,Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air, (For even to this may change of soul refer, And with light armor we may learn to bear,) Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not A fund for contemplation;-to admire Here to be lonely is not desolate, For much I view which I could most desire, And, above all, a lake I can behold Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old. Oh that thou wert but with me!--but I grow The fool of my own wishes, and forget The solitude which I have vaunted so Has lost its praise in this but one regret; There may be others which I less may show! I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet I did remind thee of our own dear Lake By the old Hall which may be mine no more. Leman's is fair; but think not I forsake The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore: Sad havoc Time must with my memory make, Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before; Though, like all things which I have loved, they are Resign'd for ever, or divided far. The world is all before me; I but ask It is but in her summer's sun to bask, My sister-till I look again on thee. I can reduce all feelings but this one; And that I would not;-for at length I see Such scenes as those wherein my life begun. The earliest-even the only paths for My years have been no slumber, but the prey Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share Of life which might have fill'd a century, Before its fourth in time had pass'd me by. And for the remnant which may be to come I am content; and for the past I feel Not thankless,-for within the crowded sum Of struggles, happiness at times would steal, And for the present, I would not benumb My feelings further.--Nor shall I conceal That with all this I still can look around, And worship Nature with a thought profound. For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart I know myself secure, as thou in mine; We were and are-I am, even as thou art Beings who ne'er each other can resign: We are entwined-let death come slow or fast. The tie which bound the first endures the last! July, 1816. 1830. STANZAS FOR MUSIC THEY say that Hope is happiness; But genuine Love must prize the past, And Memory wakes the thoughts that bless: They rose the first-they set the last ; And all that Memory loves the most Was once our only Hope to be, And all that Hope adored and lost Hath melted into Memory. Alas! it is delusion all ; The future cheats us from afar, Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are. ?... 1829. DARKNESS I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came and went-and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation: and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light; And they did live by watchfires-and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings-the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, And men were gather'd round their blazing homes To look once more into each other's face; Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanos, and their mountaintorch; A fearful hope was all the world contain'd; Forests were set on fire-but hour by hour They fell and faded-and the crackling trunks Extinguish'd with a crash-and all was black. The brows of men by the despairing light And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled; And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up With mad disquietude on the dull sky, The pall of a past world; and then again With curses cast them down upon the |