Of the olive-sandalled1 Apennine And the Alps, whose snows are spread High between the clouds and sun; 310 And of living things each one; And my spirit, which so long By the glory of the sky: 315 Be it love, light, harmony, Odor, or the soul of all Which from heaven like dew doth fall, 320 Noon descends, and after noon Autumn's evening meets me soon, Leading the infantine moon, And that one star, which to her Almost seems to minister 325 Half the crimson light she brings From the sunset's radiant springs: And the soft dreams of the morn (Which like wingèd winds had borne To that silent isle, which lies 330 Mid remembered agonies, The frail bark of this lone being) 335 Other flowering isles must be O'er that gulf: even now, perhaps, 340 With folded wings they waiting sit For my bark, to pilot it To some calm and blooming cove, 345 Far from passion, pain, and guilt, Which the wild sea-murmur fills, Of all flowers that breathe and shine: Envying us, may even entice 355 To our healing paradise The polluting multitude; But their rage would be subdued By that clime divine and calm, And the winds whose wings rain balm 360 On the uplifted soul, and leaves Under which the bright sea heaves; 1 covered with olive trees at the base 30 35 40 Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; Till death like sleep might steal on me, Some might lament that I were cold, Insults with this untimely moan; They might lament-for I am one Whom men love not,—and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, 45 Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. THE MASK OF ANARCHY WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF THE MASSACRE AT MANCHESTER 1819 As I lay asleep in Italy, 1832 There came a voice from over the sea, 5 I met Murder on the way- For one by one, and two by two, Next came Fraud, and he had on, Had their brains knocked out by them. 25 On a crocodile rode by. And many more Destructions played 30 Last came Anarchy; he rode On a white horse splashed with blood; 35 In his hand a sceptre shone; With a pace stately and fast, 1 A mass-meeting of citizens who were eager for parliamentary reforms was attacked by soldiers in St. Peter's Field, on Aug. 16, 1819. A few persons were killed and several hundred injured. See Revelation, 6:8. 90 Beneath is spread like a green sea Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined Column, tower, and dome, and spire, From the marble shrines did rise, 115 Sun-girt City, thou hast been A less drear ruin then than now, Will spread his sail and seize his oar Lest thy dead should, from their sleep 140 Lead a rapid masque of death 1 Oceanus. A reference to the old annual custom of throwing a ring into the ocean in representation of the marriage of Venice and the Sea. See Wordsworth's On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic (p. 286). At this time, 1818, the greater part of northern Italy, including the old free cities, was under the oppressive domination of Austria, the "Celtic Anarch" of 1. 152. Before the founding of the city. O'er the waters of his path. In her omnipotence, and shake Earth can spare ye: while like flowers, In the waste of years and hours, 165 From your dust new nations spring With more kindly blossoming. Perish! let there only be Floating o'er thy hearthless sea, 175 Of the songs of Albion, Driven from his ancestral streams By the might of evil dreams, Chastening terror. What though yet 185 Which through Albion winds forever 195 Round Scamander's wasting springs; 1 Celtic is here applied to northern barbarlans not natives of Italy. 2 A reference to Byron. Fills Avon and the world with light · 200 As the love from Petrarch's urn, A quenchless lamp, by which the heart 205 The city that did refuge thee. Lo, the sun floats up the sky Seems to level plain and height; With the purple vintage strain, Lies unchanged, though many a lord, Men must reap the things they sow,3 240 Till Death cried, "I win, I win!'' 4 And Sin cursed to lose the wager, And the eastern Alpine snow, 250 And since that time, ay, long before, See Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient & Francis I, Emperor of Austria (1804-35). Mariner, 197 (p. 338). Both have ruled from shore to shore,- In thine halls the lamp of learning, 260 It gleams betrayed and to betray: . Once remotest nations came To adore that sacred flame, When it lit not many a hearth 265 Now new fires from antique light One light flame among the brakes,1 Light around thee, and thou hearest 285 Noon descends around me now: 'Tis the noon of autumn's glow, When a soft and purple mist Like a vaporous amethyst, Or an air-dissolvèd star 290 Mingling light and fragrance, far From the curved horizon's bound To the point of heaven's profound,2 Fills the overflowing sky; And the plains that silent lie 295 Underneath, the leaves unsodden Where the infant Frost has trodden With his morning-winged feet, Whose bright print is gleaming yet; And the red and golden vines, 300 Piercing with their trellised lines The rough, dark-skirted wilderness; The dun and bladed grass no less, Pointing from this hoary tower In the windless air; the flower 305 Glimmering at my feet; the line 1 thickets 2 That is, to the zenith. Of the olive-sandalled1 Apennine And the Alps, whose snows are spread High between the clouds and sun; 310 And of living things each one; And my spirit, which so long By the glory of the sky: 315 Be it love, light, harmony, Odor, or the soul of all Which from heaven like dew doth fall, 320 Noon descends, and after noon Autumn's evening meets me soon, Leading the infantine moon, And that one star, which to her Almost seems to minister 325 Half the crimson light she brings From the sunset's radiant springs: And the soft dreams of the morn (Which like winged winds had borne To that silent isle, which lies 330 Mid remembered agonies, The frail bark of this lone being) 335 Other flowering isles must be In the sea of life and agony: Other spirits float and flee O'er that gulf: even now, perhaps, On some rock the wild wave wraps, 340 With folded wings they waiting sit For my bark, to pilot it To some calm and blooming cove, 345 Far from passion, pain, and guilt, 350 And the light and smell divine Of all flowers that breathe and shine: We may live so happy there, That the spirits of the air, Envying us, may even entice 355 To our healing paradise The polluting multitude; But their rage would be subdued By that clime divine and calm, And the winds whose wings rain balm 360 On the uplifted soul, and leaves Under which the bright sea heaves; 1 covered with olive trees at the base While each breathless interval In their whisperings musical The inspired soul supplies 365 With its own deep melodies; And the love which heals all strife, Circling, like the breath of life, All things in that sweet abode With its own mild brotherhood, 370 They, not it, would change; and soon Every sprite beneath the moon Would repent its envy vain, And the earth grow young again. 10 15 20 25 STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION, NEAR NAPLES The sun is warm, the sky is clear, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent might; The breath of the moist earth is light Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown: I sit upon the sands alone,The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around, Nor that content surpassing wealth The sage in meditation found,1 And walked with inward glory crowned Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surroundSmiling they live, and call life pleas ure; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure, 1 Numerous poets and philosophers have found consolation in solitude. See Cowper's The Task, 2 (p. 147); Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 4, 177-8 (p. 548); Keats's Sonnet to Solitude (p. 754); also, De Quincey's The Affliction of Childhood (p. 1089). |