530 But chill the air although in June; 540 550 And strove to wake; but could not make My senses climb up from below. I felt as on a plank at sea, When all the waves that dash o'er thee, At the same time upheave and whelm, And hurl thee towards a desert realm. My undulating life was as The fancied lights that flitting pass Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when Fever begins upon the brain; But soon it pass'd, with little pain, XIV 'My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold, 571 And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse Life reassumed its lingering hold, And throb by throb: till grown a pang Which for a moment would convulse, My blood reflow'd though thick and chill; My ear with uncouth noises rang, 580 My heart began once more to thrill; My sight return'd, though dim, alas! And thicken'd, as it were, with glass. Methought the dash of waves was nigh: There was a gleam too of the sky, Studded with stars; it is no dream; The wild horse swims the wilder stream! The bright broad river's gushing tide Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide, And we are half-way, struggling o'er To yon unknown and silent shore. The waters broke my hollow trance, And with a temporary strength My stiffen❜d limbs were rebaptized. A haven I but little prized, XV 591 600 'With glossy skin, and dripping mane, And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain Up the repelling bank. We gain the top: a boundless plain Spreads through the shadow of the night, And onward, onward, onward, seems, Like precipices in our dreams, To stretch beyond the sight; 560 And here and there a speck of white, 610 And not an insect's shrill small horn, A trampling troop; I see them come! In one vast squadron they advance! I strove to cry- my lips were dumb. The steeds rush on in plunging pride; But where are they the reins to guide? A thousand horse and none to ride! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never stretch'd by pain, Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod, And flanks unscarr'd by spur or rod, A thousand horse, the wild, the free, Like waves that follow o'er the sea, Came thickly thundering on, As if our faint approach to meet. 670 680 690 His first and last career is done! On came the troop- they saw him stoop, They saw me strangely bound along His back with many a bloody thong. They stop they start - they snuff the air, Gallop a moment here and there, Approach, retire, wheel round and round, Then plunging back with sudden bound, Headed by one black mighty steed Who seem'd the patriarch of his breed, Without a single speck or hair 699 Of white upon his shaggy hide. And backward to the forest fly, They left me there to my despair, 709 I little deem'd another day 720 And there from morn till twilight bound, Nor more unkind for coming soon; That prudence might escape: And welcome in no shape. And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure, For he who hath in turn run through 730 740 Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave; And, save the future (which is view'd Not quite as men are base or good, But as their nerves may be endued), 750 With nought perhaps to grieve: The wretch still hopes his woes must end, And Death, whom he should deem his friend, Appears, to his distemper'd eyes, Arrived to rob him of his prize, The tree of his new Paradise. To-morrow would have given him all, Repaid his pangs, repair'd his fall; To-morrow would have been the first Of days no more deplored or curst, But bright, and long, and beckoning years, Seen dazzling through the mist of tears, Guerdon of many a painful hour; To-morrow would have given him power To rule, to shine, to smite, to save And must it dawn upon his grave? XVIII 761 The sun was sinking - still I lay And my dim eyes of death had need, I cast my last looks up the sky, 770 And there between me and the sun I saw the expecting raven fly, Who scarce would wait till both should die Ere his repast begun. He flew, and perch'd, then flew once more, And each time nearer than before; I saw his wing through twilight flit, And once so near me he alit I could have smote, but lack'd the But the slight motion of my hand, And then subsiding back to death, An icy sickness curdling o'er 790 My heart, and sparks that cross'd my brain A gasp, a throb, a start of pain, A sigh, and nothing more. XIX 'I woke - Where was I?- Do I see I closed my own again once more, Could not as yet be o'er. A slender girl, long-hair'd, and tall, Sate watching by the cottage wall: The sparkle of her eye I caught, Even with my first return of thought; For ever and anon she threw A prying, pitying glance on me But that I lived, and was released 84 810 She smiled and I essay'd to speak, and she approach'd, and And gently oped the door, and spake In whispers - ne'er was voice so sweet! Even music follow'd her light feet. But those she call'd were not awake, And she went forth; but, ere she pass'd, Another look on me she cast, Another sign she made, to say, Her due return:- while she was gone, 820 830 840 850 Sent me forth to the wilderness, Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone, To pass the desert to a throne, What mortal his own doom may guess? Let none despond, let none despair! To-morrow the Borysthenes May see our coursers graze at ease Upon his Turkish bank, — and never Had I such welcome for a river As I shall yield when safely there. Comrades, good night!'. The Hetman threw 860 PROMETHEUS [Publ. 1816] TITAN! to whose immortal eyes Which speaks but in its loneliness, And then is jealous lest the sky Should have a listener, nor will sigh Until its voice is echoless. Titan! to thee the strife was given Between the suffering and the will, Which torture where they cannot kill; And the inexorable Heaven, And the deaf tyranny of Fate, The ruling principle of Hate, Which for its pleasure doth create The things it may annihilate, Refused thee even the boon to die: The wretched gift eternity Was thine And thou hast borne it well. Thy Godlike crime was to be kind, In the endurance, and repulse Of thine impenetrable Spirit, 30 20 30 4C Which Earth and Heaven could not con vulse, A mighty lesson we inherit: Thou art a symbol and a sign To Mortals of their fate and force; Like thee, Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source; |