Wild Bacchanal of truth's mysterious wine. His dead spirit lives in thee. Why do we fear or hope? thou art already free! And thou, lost Paradise of this divine And glorious world! thou flowery wilderness! Thou island of eternity! thou shrine Where desolation, clothed with loveliness, Worships the thing thou wert! O Italy, Gather thy blood into thy heart; repress The beasts who make their dens thy sacred palaces. XV. O that the free would stamp the impious name Of **** into the dust; or write it there, So that this blot upon the page of fame Were as a serpent's path, which the light air Erases, and the flat sands close behind! Ye the oracle have heard: Lift the victory-flashing sword, And cut the snaky knots of this foul gordian Which, weak itself as stubble, yet can bind The axes and the rods which awe mankind; The sound has poison in it, 'tis the sperm Of what makes life foul, cankerous, and abhorred; Disdain not thou, at thine appointed term, To set thine armed heel on this reluctant worm XVI. O that the wise from their bright minds would. kindle Such lamps within the dome of this dim world, That the pale name of PRIEST might shrink and dwindle Into the hell from which it first was hurled, Till human thoughts might kneel alone, Of its own aweless soul, or of the power unknown! obscure From which they spring, as clouds of glimmering dew From a white lake blot heaven's blue portraiture, Were stript of their thin masks and various hue, And frowns and smiles and splendours not their own, Till in the nakedness of false and true They stand before their Lord, each to receive its due. XVII. He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever If on his own high will a willing slave, pressor. What if earth can clothe and feed [seed? And power in thought be as the tree within the Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor, Diving on fiery wings to Nature's throne, Checks the great mother stooping to caress her, And cries, give me, thy child, dominion Over all height and depth? if Life can breed New wants, and wealth from those who toil and groan, Rend of thy gifts and hers a thousandfold for one. XVIII. Come thou, but lead out of the inmost cave Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her car Rulers of eternal thought, To judge with solemn truth life's ill-apportioned lot? Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame Of what has been, the Hope of what will be? O, Liberty! if such could be thy name Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought XIX. Paused, and the spirit of that mighty singing When the bolt has pierced its brain; rain; As a far taper fades with fading night; Drooped; o'er it closed the echoes far away THE WANING MOON. AND like a dying lady, lean and pale, ARETHUSA. ARETHUSA arose From her couch of snows In the Acroceraunian mountains,— Shepherding her bright fountains. With her rainbow locks The downward ravine Which slopes to the western gleams: And gliding and springing, She went, ever singing, In murmurs as soft as sleep; The Earth seemed to love her, And Heaven smiled above her, As she lingered towards the deep. Then Alpheus bold, On his glacier cold, With his trident the mountains strook; And opened a chasm In the rocks with the spasm All Erymanthus shook. And the black south wind |