| |
| DEEP in the shady sadness of a vale | |
| Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, | |
| Far from the fiery noon, and eve’s one star, | |
| Sat gray-hair’d Saturn, quiet as a stone, | |
| Still as the silence round about his lair; | 5 |
| Forest on forest hung about his head | |
| Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, | |
| Not so much life as on a summer’s day | |
| Robs not one light seed from the feather’d grass, | |
| But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest. | 10 |
| A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more | |
| By reason of his fallen divinity | |
| Spreading a shade: the Naiad ’mid her reeds | |
| Press’d her cold finger closer to her lips. | |
| |
| Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went, | 15 |
| No further than to where his feet had stray’d, | |
| And slept there since. Upon the sodden ground | |
| His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, | |
| Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed; | |
| While his bow’d head seem’d list’ning to the Earth, | 20 |
| His ancient mother, for some comfort yet. | |
| |
| It seem’d no force could wake him from his place; | |
| But there came one, who with a kindred hand | |
| Touch’d his wide shoulders, after bending low | |
| With reverence, though to one who knew it not. | 25 |
| She was a Goddess of the infant world; | |
| By her in stature the tall Amazon | |
| Had stood a pigmy’s height: she would have ta’en | |
| Achilles by the hair and bent his neck; | |
| Or with a finger stay’d Ixion’s wheel. | 30 |
| Her face was large as that of Memphian sphinx, | |
| Pedestal’d haply in a palace court, | |
| When sages look’d to Egypt for their lore. | |
| But oh! how unlike marble was that face: | |
| How beautiful, if sorrow had not made | 35 |
| Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty’s self. | |
| There was a listening fear in her regard, | |
| As if calamity had but begun; | |
| As if the vanward clouds of evil days | |
| Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear | 40 |
| Was with its stored thunder labouring up. | |
| One hand she press’d upon that aching spot | |
| Where beats the human heart, as if just there, | |
| Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain: | |
| The other upon Saturn’s bended neck | 45 |
| She laid, and to the level of his ear | |
| Leaning with parted lips, some words she spake | |
| In solemn tenour and deep organ tone: | |
| Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue | |
| Would come in these like accents; O how frail | 50 |
| To that large utterance of the early Gods! | |
| “Saturn, look up!—though wherefore, poor old King? | |
| “I have no comfort for thee, no not one: | |
| “I cannot say, “O wherefore sleepest thou?’ | |
| “For heaven is parted from thee, and the earth | 55 |
| “Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God; | |
| “And ocean too, with all its solemn noise, | |
| “Has from thy sceptre pass’d; and all the air | |
| “Is emptied of thine hoary majesty. | |
| “Thy thunder, conscious of the new command, | 60 |
| “Rumbles reluctant o’er our fallen house; | |
| “And thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands | |
| “Scorches and burns our once serene domain. | |
| “O aching time! O moments big as years! | |
| “All as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth, | 65 |
| “And press it so upon our weary griefs | |
| “That unbelief has not a space to breathe. | |
| “Saturn, sleep on:—O thoughtless, why did I | |
| “Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude? | |
| “Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes? | 70 |
| “Saturn, sleep on! while at thy feet I weep.” | |
| |
| As when, upon a tranced summer-night, | |
| Those green-rob’d senators of mighty woods, | |
| Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, | |
| Dream, and so dream all night without a stir, | 75 |
| Save from one gradual solitary gust | |
| Which comes upon the silence, and dies off, | |
| As if the ebbing air had but one wave; | |
| So came these words and went; the while in tears | |
| She touch’d her fair large forehead to the ground, | 80 |
| Just where her falling hair might be outspread | |
| A soft and silken mat for Saturn’s feet. | |
| One moon, with alteration slow, had shed | |
| Her silver seasons four upon the night, | |
| And still these two were postured motionless, | 85 |
| Like natural sculpture in cathedral cavern; | |
| The frozen God still couchant on the earth, | |
| And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet: | |
| Until at length old Saturn lifted up | |
| His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone, | 90 |
| And all the gloom and sorrow of the place, | |
| And that fair kneeling Goddess; and then spake, | |
| As with a palsied tongue, and while his beard | |
| Shook horrid with such aspen-malady: | |
| “O tender spouse of gold Hyperion, | 95 |
| “Thea, I feel thee ere I see thy face; | |
| “Look up, and let me see our doom in it; | |
| “Look up, and tell me if this feeble shape | |
| “Is Saturn’s; tell me, if thou hear’st the voice | |
| “Of Saturn; tell me, if this wrinkling brow, | 100 |
| “Naked and bare of its great diadem, | |
| “Peers like the front of Saturn. Who had power | |
| “To make me desolate? whence came the strength? | |
| “How was it nurtur’d to such bursting forth, | |
| “While Fate seem’d strangled in my nervous grasp? | 105 |
| “But it is so; and I am smother’d up, | |
| “And buried from all godlike exercise | |
| “Of influence benign on planets pale, | |
| “Of admonitions to the winds and seas, | |
| “Of peaceful sway above man’s harvesting, | 110 |
| “And all those acts which Deity supreme | |
| “Doth ease its heart of love in.—I am gone | |
| “Away from my own bosom: I have left | |
| “My strong identity, my real self, | |
| “Somewhere between the throne, and where I sit | 115 |
| “Here on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, search! | |
| “Open thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round | |
| “Upon all space: space starr’d, and lorn of light; | |
| “Space region’d with life-air; and barren void; | |
| “Spaces of fire, and all the yawn of hell.— | 120 |
| “Search, Thea, search! and tell me, if thou seest | |
| “A certain shape or shadow, making way | |
| “With wings or chariot fierce to repossess | |
| “A heaven he lost erewhile: it must—it must | |
| “Be of ripe progress—Saturn must be King. | 125 |
| “Yes, there must be a golden victory; | |
| “There must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets blown | |
| “Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival | |
| “Upon the gold clouds metropolitan, | |
| “Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir | 130 |
| “Of strings in hollow shells; and there shall be | |
| “Beautiful things made new, for the surprise | |
| “Of the sky-children; I will give command: | |
| “Thea! Thea! Thea! where is Saturn?” | |
| |
| This passion lifted him upon his feet, | 135 |
| And made his hands to struggle in the air, | |
| His Druid locks to shake and ooze with sweat, | |
| His eyes to fever out, his voice to cease. | |
| He stood, and heard not Thea’s sobbing deep; | |
| A little time, and then again he snatch’d | 140 |
| Utterance thus.—“But cannot I create? | |
| “Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth | |
| “Another world, another universe, | |
| “To overbear and crumble this to nought? | |
| “Where is another chaos? Where?”—That word | 145 |
| Found way unto Olympus, and made quake | |
| The rebel three.—Thea was startled up, | |
| And in her bearing was a sort of hope, | |
| As thus she quick-voic’d spake, yet full of awe. | |
| |
| “This cheers our fallen house: come to our friends, | 150 |
| “O Saturn! come away, and give them heart; | |
| “I know the covert, for thence came I hither.” | |
| Thus brief; then with beseeching eyes she went | |
| With backward footing through the shade a space: | |
| He follow’d, and she turn’d to lead the way | 155 |
| Through aged boughs, that yielded like the mist | |
| Which eagles cleave upmounting from their nest. | |
| |
| Meanwhile in other realms big tears were shed, | |
| More sorrow like to this, and such like woe, | |
| Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe: | 160 |
| The Titans fierce, self hid, or prison-bound, | |
| Groan’d for the old allegiance once more, | |
| And listen’d in sharp pain for Saturn’s voice. | |
| But one of the whole mammoth-brood still kept | |
| His sov’reignty, and rule, and majesty;— | 165 |
| Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire | |
| Still sat, still snuff’d the incense, teeming up | |
| From man to the sun’s God; yet unsecure: | |
| For as among us mortals omens drear | |
| Fright and perplex, so also shuddered he— | 170 |
| Not at dog’s howl, or gloom-bird’s hated screech, | |
| Or the familiar visiting of one | |
| Upon the first toll of his passing-bell, | |
| Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp; | |
| But horrors, portion’d to a giant nerve, | 175 |
| Oft made Hyperion ache. His palace bright | |
| Bastion’d with pyramids of glowing gold, | |
| And touch’d with shade of bronzed obelisks, | |
| Glar’d a blood-red through all its thousand courts, | |
| Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries; | 180 |
| And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds | |
| Flush’d angerly: while sometimes eagle’s wings, | |
| Unseen before by Gods or wondering men, | |
| Darken’d the place; and neighing steeds were heard, | |
| Not heard before by Gods or wondering men. | 185 |
| Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths | |
| Of incense, breath’d aloft from sacred hills, | |
| Instead of sweets, his ample palate took | |
| Savour of poisonous brass and metal sick: | |
| And so, when harbour’d in the sleepy west, | 190 |
| After the full completion of fair day,— | |
| For rest divine upon exalted couch | |
| And slumber in the arms of melody, | |
| He pac’d away the pleasant hours of ease | |
| With stride colossal, on from hall to hall; | 195 |
| While far within each aisle and deep recess, | |
| His winged minions in close clusters stood, | |
| Amaz’d and full of fear; like anxious men | |
| Who on wide plains gather in panting troops, | |
| When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers. | 200 |
| Even now, while Saturn, rous’d from icy trance, | |
| Went step for step with Thea through the woods, | |
| Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear, | |
| Came slope upon the threshold of the west; | |
| Then, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope | 205 |
| In smoothest silence, save what solemn tubes, | |
| Blown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet | |
| And wandering sounds, slow-breathed melodies; | |
| And like a rose in vermeil tint and shape, | |
| In fragrance soft, and coolness to the eye, | 210 |
| That inlet to severe magnificence | |
| Stood full blown, for the God to enter in. | |
| |
| He enter’d, but he enter’d full of wrath; | |
| His flaming robes stream’d out beyond his heels, | |
| And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire, | 215 |
| That scar’d away the meek ethereal Hours | |
| And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared, | |
| From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault, | |
| Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light, | |
| And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades, | 220 |
| Until he reach’d the great main cupola; | |
| There standing fierce beneath, he stampt his foot, | |
| And from the basements deep to the high towers | |
| Jarr’d his own golden region; and before | |
| The quavering thunder thereupon had ceas’d, | 225 |
| His voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb, | |
| To this result: “O dreams of day and night! | |
| “O monstrous forms! O effigies of pain! | |
| “O spectres busy in a cold, cold gloom! | |
| “O lank-ear’d Phantoms of black-weeded pools! | 230 |
| “Why do I know ye? why have I seen ye? why | |
| “Is my eternal essence thus distraught | |
| “To see and to behold these horrors new? | |
| “Saturn is fallen, am I too to fall? | |
| “Am I to leave this haven of my rest, | 235 |
| “This cradle of my glory, this soft clime, | |
| “This calm luxuriance of blissful light, | |
| “These crystalline pavilions, aud pure fanes, | |
| “Of all my lucent empire? It is left | |
| “Deserted, void, nor any haunt of mine. | 240 |
| “The blaze, the splendor, and the symmetry, | |
| “I cannot see—but darkness, death and darkness. | |
| “Even here, into my centre of repose, | |
| “The shady visions come to domineer, | |
| “Insult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp.— | 245 |
| “Fall!—No, by Tellus and her briny robes! | |
| “Over the fiery frontier of my realms | |
| “I will advance a terrible right arm | |
| “Shall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove, | |
| “And bid old Saturn take his throne again.”— | 250 |
| He spake, and ceas’d, the while a heavier threat | |
| Held struggle with his throat but came not forth; | |
| For as in theatres of crowded men | |
| Hubbub increases more they call out “Hush!” | |
| So at Hyperion’s words the Phantoms pale | 255 |
| Bestirr’d themselves, thrice horrible and cold; | |
| And from the mirror’d level where he stood | |
| A mist arose, as from a scummy marsh. | |
| At this, through all his bulk an agony | |
| Crept gradual, from the feet unto the crown, | 260 |
| Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular | |
| Making slow way, with head and neck convuls’d | |
| From over-strained might. Releas’d, he fled | |
| To the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours | |
| Before the dawn in season due should blush, | 265 |
| He breath’d fierce breath against the sleepy portals, | |
| Clear’d them of heavy vapours, burst them wide | |
| Suddenly on the ocean’s chilly streams. | |
| The planet orb of fire, whereon he rode | |
| Each day from east to west the heavens through, | 270 |
| Spun round in sable curtaining of clouds; | |
| Not therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid, | |
| But ever and anon the glancing spheres, | |
| Circles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure, | |
| Glow’d through, and wrought upon the muffling dark | 275 |
| Sweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep | |
| Up to the zenith,—hieroglyphics old, | |
| Which sages and keen-eyed astrologers | |
| Then living on the earth, with labouring thought | |
| Won from the gaze of many centuries: | 280 |
| Now lost, save what we find on remnants huge | |
| Of stone, or marble swart; their import gone, | |
| Their wisdom long since fled.—Two wings this orb | |
| Possess’d for glory, two fair argent wings, | |
| Ever exalted at the God’s approach: | 285 |
| And now, from forth the gloom their plumes immense | |
| Rose, one by one, till all outspreaded were; | |
| While still the dazzling globe maintain’d eclipse, | |
| Awaiting for Hyperion’s command. | |
| Fain would he have commanded, fain took throne | 290 |
| And bid the day begin, if but for change. | |
| He might not:—No, though a primeval God: | |
| The sacred seasons might not be disturb’d. | |
| Therefore the operations of the dawn | |
| Stay’d in their birth, even as here ’tis told. | 295 |
| Those silver wings expanded sisterly, | |
| Eager to sail their orb; the porches wide | |
| Open’d upon the dusk demesnes of night; | |
| And the bright Titan, phrenzied with new woes, | |
| Unus’d to bend, by hard compulsion bent | 300 |
| His spirit to the sorrow of the time; | |
| And all along a dismal rack of clouds, | |
| Upon the boundaries of day and night, | |
| He stretch’d himself in grief and radiance faint. | |
| There as he lay, the Heaven with its stars | 305 |
| Look’d down on him with pity, and the voice | |
| Of Coelus, from the universal space, | |
| Thus whisper’d low and solemn in his ear. | |
| “O brightest of my children dear, earth-born | |
| “And sky-engendered, Son of Mysteries | 310 |
| “All unrevealed even to the powers | |
| “Which met at thy creating; at whose joys | |
| “And palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft, | |
| “I, Coelus, wonder, how they came and whence; | |
| “And at the fruits thereof what shapes they be, | 315 |
| “Distinct, and visible; symbols divine, | |
| “Manifestations of that beauteous life | |
| “Diffus’d unseen throughout eternal space: | |
| “Of these new-form’d art thou, oh brightest child! | |
| “Of these, thy brethren and the Goddesses! | 320 |
| “There is sad feud among ye, and rebellion | |
| “Of son against his sire. I saw him fall, | |
| “I saw my first-born tumbled from his throne! | |
| “To me his arms were spread, to me his voice | |
| “Found way from forth the thunders round his head! | 325 |
| “Pale wox I, and in vapours hid my face. | |
| “Art thou, too, near such doom? vague fear there is: | |
| “For I have seen my sons most unlike Gods. | |
| “Divine ye were created, and divine | |
| “In sad demeanour, solemn, undisturb’d, | 330 |
| “Unruffled, like high Gods, ye liv’d and ruled: | |
| “Now I behold in you fear, hope, and wrath; | |
| “Actions of rage and passion; even as | |
| “I see them, on the mortal world beneath, | |
| “In men who die.—This is the grief, O Son! | 335 |
| “Sad sign of ruin, sudden dismay, and fall! | |
| “Yet do thou strive; as thou art capable, | |
| “As thou canst move about, an evident God; | |
| “And canst oppose to each malignant hour | |
| “Ethereal presence:—I am but a voice; | 340 |
| “My life is but the life of winds and tides, | |
| “No more than winds and tides can I avail:— | |
| “But thou canst.—Be thou therefore in the van | |
| “Of circumstance; yea, seize the arrow’s barb | |
| “Before the tense string murmur.—To the earth! | 345 |
| “For there thou wilt find Saturn, and his woes. | |
| “Meantime I will keep watch on thy bright sun, | |
| “And of thy seasons be a careful nurse.”— | |
| Ere half this region-whisper had come down, | |
| Hyperion arose, and on the stars | 350 |
| Lifted his curved lids, and kept them wide | |
| Until it ceas’d; and still he kept them wide: | |
| And still they were the same bright, patient stars. | |
| Then with a slow incline of his broad breast, | |
| Like to a diver in the pearly seas, | 355 |
| Forward he stoop’d over the airy shore, | |
| And plung’d all noiseless into the deep night. | |
| |
| See Notes. |
| |
