My steps are faint—Come back, thou dearest one—
Return, ah me! return!’—The wind passed by
On which those accents died, faint, far, and lingeringly.
VIII
Woe! Woe! that moonless midnight!—Want and Pest
Were horrible, but one more fell doth rear,
4290
As in a hydra’s swarming lair, its crest
Eminent among those victims—even the Fear
Of Hell: each girt by the hot atmosphere
Of his blind agony, like a scorpion stung
By his own rage upon his burning bier
4295
Of circling coals of fire; but still there clung
One hope, like a keen sword on starting threads uphung:
IX
Not death—death was no more refuge or rest;
Not life—it was despair to be!—not sleep,
For fiends and chasms of fire had dispossessed
4300
All natural dreams: to wake was not to weep,
But to gaze mad and pallid, at the leap
To which the Future, like a snaky scourge,
Or like some tyrant’s eye, which aye doth keep
Its withering beam upon his slaves, did urge
4305
Their steps; they heard the roar of Hell’s sulphureous surge.
X
Each of that multitude, alone, and lost
To sense of outward things, one hope yet knew;
As on a foam-girt crag some seaman tossed
Stares at the rising tide, or like the crew
Whilst now the ship is splitting through and through;
Each, if the tramp of a far steed was heard,
Started from sick despair, or if there flew
One murmur on the wind, or if some word
Which none can gather yet, the distant crowd has stirred.
XI
4315
Why became cheeks, wan with the kiss of death,
Paler from hope? they had sustained despair.
Why watched those myriads with suspended breath
Sleepless a second night? they are not here,
The victims, and hour by hour, a vision drear,
4320
Warm corpses fall upon the clay-cold dead;
And even in death their lips are wreathed with fear.—
The crowd is mute and moveless—overhead
Silent Arcturus shines—‘Ha! hear’st thou not the tread
XII
‘Of rushing feet? laughter? the shout, the scream,
4325
Of triumph not to be contained? See! hark!
They come, they come! give way!’ Alas, ye deem
Falsely—’tis but a crowd of maniacs stark
Driven, like a troop of spectres, through the dark,
From the choked well, whence a bright death-fire sprung,
4330
A lurid earth-star, which dropped many a spark
From its blue train, and spreading widely, clung
To their wild hair, like mist the topmost pines among.
XIII
And many, from the crowd collected there,
Joined that strange dance in fearful sympathies;
4335
There was the silence of a long despair,
When the last echo of those terrible cries
Came from a distant street, like agonies
Stifled afar.—Before the Tyrant’s throne
All night his aged Senate sate, their eyes
4340
In stony expectation fixed; when one
Sudden before them stood, a Stranger and alone.
XIV
Dark Priests and haughty Warriors gazed on him
With baffled wonder, for a hermit’s vest
Concealed his face; but, when he spake, his tone,
4345
Ere yet the matter did their thoughts arrest,—
Earnest, benignant, calm, as from a breast
Void of all hate or terror—made them start;
For as with gentle accents he addressed
His speech to them, on each unwilling heart
4350
Unusual awe did fall—a spirit-quelling dart.
XV
‘Ye Princes of the Earth, ye sit aghast
Amid the ruin which yourselves have made,
Yes, Desolation heard your trumpet’s blast,
And sprang from sleep!—dark Terror has obeyed
4355
Your bidding—O, that I whom ye have made
Your foe, could set my dearest enemy free
From pain and fear! but evil casts a shade,
Which cannot pass so soon, and Hate must be
The nurse and parent still of an ill progeny.
XVI
4360
‘Ye turn to Heaven for aid in your distress;
Alas, that ye, the mighty and the wise,
Who, if ye dared, might not aspire to less
Than ye conceive of power, should fear the lies
Which thou, and thou, didst frame for mysteries
4365
To blind your slaves:—consider your own thought,
An empty and a cruel sacrifice
Ye now prepare, for a vain idol wrought
Out of the fears and hate which vain desires have brought.
XVII
‘Ye seek for happiness—alas, the day!
4370
Ye find it not in luxury nor in gold,
Nor in the fame, nor in the envied sway
For which, O willing slaves to Custom old,
Severe taskmistress! ye your hearts have sold.
Ye seek for peace, and when ye die, to dream
4375
No evil dreams: all mortal things are cold
And senseless then; if aught survive, I deem
It must be love and joy, for they immortal seem.
XVIII
‘Fear not the future, weep not for the past.
O, could I win your ears to dare be now
4380
Glorious, and great, and calm! that ye would cast
Into the dust those symbols of your woe,
Purple, and gold, and steel! that ye would go
Proclaiming to the nations whence ye came.
That Want, and Plague, and Fear, from slavery flow;
4385
And that mankind is free, and that the shame
Of royalty and faith is lost in freedom’s fame!
XIX
‘If thus, ’tis well—if not, I come to say
That Laon—’ while the Stranger spoke, among
The Council sudden tumult and affray
4390
Arose, for many of those warriors young,
Had on his eloquent accents fed and hung
Like bees on mountain-flowers; they knew the truth,
And from their thrones in vindication sprung;
The men of faith and law then without ruth
4395
Drew forth their secret steel, and stabbed each ardent youth.
XX
They stabbed them in the back and sneered—a slave
Who stood behind the throne, those corpses drew
Each to its bloody, dark, and secret grave;
And one more daring raised his steel anew
4400
To pierce the Stranger. ‘What hast thou to do
With me, poor wretch?’—Calm, solemn, and severe,
That voice unstrung his sinews, and he threw
His dagger on the ground, and pale with fear,
Sate silently—his voice then did the Stranger rear.
XXI
4405
‘It doth avail not that I weep for ye—
Ye cannot change, since ye are old and gray,
And ye have chosen your lot—your fame must be
A book of blood, whence in a milder day
Men shall learn truth, when ye are wrapped in cla
y:
4410
Now ye shall triumph. I am Laon’s friend,
And him to your revenge will I betray,
So ye concede one easy boon. Attend!
For now I speak of things which ye can apprehend.
XXII
‘There is a People mighty in its youth,
4415
A land beyond the Oceans of the West,
Where, though with rudest rites, Freedom and Truth
Are worshipped; from a glorious Mother’s breast,
Who, since high Athens fell, among the rest
Sate like the Queen of Nations, but in woe,
4420
By inbred monsters outraged and oppressed,
Turns to her chainless child for succour now,
It draws the milk of Power in Wisdom’s fullest flow.
XXIII
‘That land is like an Eagle, whose young gaze
Feeds on the noontide beam, whose golden plume
4425
Floats moveless on the storm, and in the blaze
Of sunrise gleams when Earth is wrapped in gloom;
An epitaph of glory for the tomb
Of murdered Europe may thy fame be made,
Great People! as the sands shalt thou become;
Thy growth is swift as morn, when night must fade;
The multitudinous Earth shall sleep beneath thy shade.
XXIV
‘Yes, in the desert there is built a home
For Freedom. Genius is made strong to rear
The monuments of man beneath the dome
4435
Of a new Heaven; myriads assemble there,
Whom the proud lords of man, in rage or fear,
Drive from their wasted homes: the boon I pray
Is this—that Cythna shall be convoyed there—
Nay, start not at the name—America!
4440
And then to you this night Laon will I betray.
XXV
‘With me do what you will. I am your foe!’
The light of such a joy as makes the stare
Of hungry snakes like living emeralds glow,
Shone in a hundred human eyes—‘Where, where
4445
Is Laon? Haste! fly! drag him swiftly here!
We grant thy boon.’—‘I put no trust in ye,
Swear by the Power ye dread.’—‘We swear, we swear!’
The Stranger threw his vest back suddenly,
And smiled in gentle pride, and said, ‘Lo! I am he!’
CANTO XII
I
4450
THE transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness
Spread through the multitudinous streets, fast flying
Upon the winds of fear; from his dull madness
The starveling waked, and died in joy; the dying,
Among the corpses in stark agony lying,
4455
Just heard the happy tidings, and in hope
Closed their faint eyes; from house to house replying
With loud acclaim, the living shook Heaven’s cope,
And filled the startled Earth with echoes: morn did ope
II
Its pale eyes then; and lo! the long array
4460
Of guards in golden arms, and Priests beside,
Singing their bloody hymns, whose garbs betray
The blackness of the faith it seems to hide;
And see, the Tyrant’s gem-wrought chariot glide
Among the gloomy cowls and glittering spears—
4465
A Shape of light is sitting by his side,
A child most beautiful. I’ the midst appears
Laon,—exempt alone from mortal hopes and fears.
III
His head and feet are bare, his hands are bound
Behind and with heavy chains, yet none do wreak
4470
Their scoffs on him, though myriads throng around;
There are no sneers upon his lip which speak
That scorn or hate has made him bold; his cheek
Resolve has not turned pale,—his eyes are mild
And calm, and, like the morn about to break,
4475
Smile on mankind—his heart seems reconciled
To all things and itself, like a reposing child.
IV
Tumult was in the soul of all beside,
Ill joy, or doubt, or fear; but those who saw
Their tranquil victim pass, felt wonder glide
4480
Into their brain, and became calm with awe.—
See, the slow pageant near the pile doth draw.
A thousand torches in the spacious square,
Borne by the ready slaves of ruthless law,
Await the signal round: the morning fair
4485
Is changed to a dim night by that unnatural glare.
V
And see! beneath a sun-bright canopy,
Upon a platform level with the pile,
The anxious Tyrant sit, enthroned on high,
Girt by the chieftains of the host; all smile
4490
In expectation, but one child: the while
I, Laon, led by mutes, ascend my bier
Of fire, and look around: each distant isle
Is dark in the bright dawn; towers far and near,
Pierce like reposing flames the tremulous atmosphere.
VI
4495
There was such silence through the host, as when
An earthquake trampling on some populous town,
Has crushed ten thousand with one tread, and men
Expect the second; all were mute but one,
That fairest child, who, bold with love, alone
4500
Stood up before the King, without avail,
Pleading for Laon’s life—her stifled groan
Was heard—she trembled like one aspen pale
Among the gloomy pines of a Norwegian vale.
VII
What were his thoughts linked in the morning sun,
4505
Among those reptiles, stingless with delay,
Even like a tyrant’s wrath?—The signal-gun
Roared—hark, again! In that dread pause he lay
As in a quiet dream—the slaves obey—
A thousand torches drop,—and hark, the last
4510
Bursts on that awful silence; far away,
Millions, with hearts that beat both loud and fast,
Watch for the springing flame expectant and aghast.
VIII
They fly—the torches fall—a cry of fear
Has startled the triumphant!—they recede!
4515
For ere the cannon’s roar has died, they hear
The tramp of hoofs like earthquake, and a steed
Dark and gigantic, with the tempest’s speed,
Bursts through their ranks: a woman sits thereon,
Fairer, it seems, than aught that earth can breed,
4520
Calm, radiant, like the phantom of the dawn,
A spirit from the caves of daylight wandering gone.
IX
All thought it was God’s Angel come to sweep
The lingering guilty to their fiery grave;
The Tyrant from his throne in dread did leap,—
4525
Her innocence his child from fear did save;
Scared by the faith they feigned, each priestly slave
Knelt for his mercy whom they served with blood,
And, like the refluence of a mighty wave
Sucked into the loud sea, the multitude
4530
With crushing panic, fled in terror’s altered mood.
X
They pause, they blush, they gaze,—a gathering shout
Bursts like one sound from the ten thousand streams
Of a tempestuous s
ea:—that sudden rout
One checked, who, never in his mildest dreams
4535
Felt awe from grace or loveliness, the seams
Of his rent heart so hard and cold a creed
Had seared with blistering ice—but he misdeems
That he is wise, whose wounds do only bleed
Inly for self—thus thought the Iberian Priest indeed,
XI
4540
And others too, thought he was wise to see,
In pain, and fear, and hate, something divine;
In love and beauty, no divinity.—
Now with a bitter smile, whose light did shine
Like a fiend’s hope upon his lips and eyne,
4545
He said, and the persuasion of that sneer
Rallied his trembling comrades—‘Is it mine
To stand alone, when kings and soldiers fear
A woman? Heaven has sent its other victim here.’
XII
‘Were it not impious,’ said the King, ‘to break
4550
Our holy oath?’—‘Impious to keep it, say!’
Shrieked the exulting Priest—‘Slaves, to the stake
Bind her, and on my head the burden lay
Of her just torments:—at the Judgement Day
Will I stand up before the golden throne
4555
Of Heaven, and cry, “To thee did I betray
An Infidel; but for me she would have known
Another moment’s joy! the glory be thine own!” ’
XIII
They trembled, but replied not, nor obeyed,
Pausing in breathless silence. Cythna sprung
4560
From her gigantic steed, who, like a shade
Chased by the winds, those vacant streets among
Fled tameless, as the brazen rein she flung
Upon his neck, and kissed his moonèd brow.
The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley: (A Modern Library E-Book) Page 24
