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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Her falt'ring hand upon the balustrade,
Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart Old Angela was feeling for the stair,
Made purple riot: then doth he propose

When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid,
A stratagem, that makes the beldame start : Rose, like a mission'd spirit, unaware:
“A cruel man and impious thou art:

With silver taper's light, and pious care,
Sweet lady, let her play, and sleep, and dream She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led
Alone with her good angels, far apart

To a safe level matting. Now prepare,
From wicked men like thee. Go, go!—I deem Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed;
Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd

and fled.

“I will not harm her, by all saints I swear,” Out went the taper as she hurried in;
Quoth Porphyro: “O may I ne'er find grace Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer, She closed the door, she panted, all akin
If one of her soft ringlets I displace,

To spirits of the air, and visions wide :
Or look with ruffian passion in her face :

No utter'd syllable, or, woe betide!
Good Angela, believe me by these tears;

But to her heart, her heart was voluble,
Or I will, even in a moment's space,

Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears, As though a tongueless nightingale should swell
And beard them, though they be more fang'd than Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell
wolves and bears."

Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul? A casement high and triple-arch'd there was,
A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, church-yard thing, All garlanded with carven imageries
Whose passing bell may, ere the midnight, toll; Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening, And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Were never miss’d." - Thus plaining, doth she Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,

As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings;
A gentler speech from burning Porphyro;

And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,
So woful, and of such deep sorrowing,

And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,
That Angela gives promise she will do

A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe.

and kings.



XXV. Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy,

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, Him in a closet, of such privacy

As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon : That he might see her beauty unespied,

Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And win perhaps that night a peerless bride, And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
While legion'a fairies paced the coverlet,

And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
And pale enchantment held her sleepy-eyed. She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,
Never on such a night have lovers met,

Save wings, for heaven :-Porphyro grew faint: Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt. She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.



“ It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame : Anon his heart revives : her vespers done,

All cates and dainties shall be stored there Or all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Quickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ;
Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare, Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare

Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees
On such a catering trust my dizzy head.

Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,

The while : Ah! thou must needs the lady wed, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, Or may I never leave my grave among the dead.” But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.


XXVII. So saying she hobbled off with busy fear.

Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd; In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay, The dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd To follow her ; with aged eyes aghast

Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; From fright of dim espial. Safe at last,

Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day : Through many a dusky gallery, they gain

Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ;
The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd, and chaste; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ;

Where Porphyro took covert, pleased amain. Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.



XXXIV. Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced,

Her eyes were open, but she still beheld, Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,

Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep : And listen’d to her breathing, if it chanced There was a painful change, that nigh expellid To wake into a slumberous tenderness ;

The blisses of her dream so pure and deep. Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, At which fair Madeline began to weep, And breathed himself: then from the closet crept, And moan forth witless words with many a sigh ; Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,

While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept,

Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!-how fast Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly,
she slept.

Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon Ah, Porphyro!" said she, “ but even now
Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set

Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
A table, and, half anguish'd, threw thereon Made tunable with every sweetest vow;
A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet :- And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
O for some drowsy Morphean amulet !

How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear! The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,

Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,

Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! Affray his ears, though but in dying tone :

O leave me not in this eternal woe, The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone. For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go." XXX.

XXXVI. And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,

Beyond a mortal man impassion’d far In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd, At these voluptuous accents, he arose, While he from forth the closet brought a heap. Ethereal, flush’d, and like a throbbing star Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd ; Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose ; With jellies soother than the creamy curd, Into her dream he melted, as the rose And lucid syrops, tinct with cinnamon ;

Blendeth its odor with the violet,Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd

Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon. Against the window-panes; St, Agnes' moon hath set.

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XXXVII. These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand 'Tis dark : quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet : On golden dishes and in baskets bright

• This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!” Of wreathed silver : sumptuous they stand 'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat : In the retired quiet of the night,

· No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine! Filling the chilly room with perfume light.- Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.“And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite : I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,

Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, Though thou forsakest a deceived thing ;-
Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache." A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."

Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm
Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream

· My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride! By the dusk curtains :—'t was a midnight charm

Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest ? Impossible to melt as iced stream:

Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed? The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;

Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies :

After so many hours of toil and quest,

A famish'd pilgrim,-saved by miracle. It seem'd he never, never could redeem

Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes ; So mused awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies.

Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think’st wel

To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel.”

Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,
Tumultuous,—and, in chords that tenderest be, “ Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from fairy-land,
He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute, Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed :
In Provence call’d, “ La belle dame sans meroy;" Arise--arise! the morning is at hand ;-
Close to her ear touching the melody ;-

The bloated wassailers will never hoed :
Wherewith disturb’d, she utter'd a soft moan : Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
He ceased—she panted quick-and suddenly There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,--
Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone :

Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead : Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured Awake! arise ! my love, and fearless be, stone.

For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.”


The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide She hurried at his words, beset with fears,

But his sagacious eye an inmate owns : For there were sleeping dragons all around, By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide :At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears

The chains lie silent on the foot-worn stones;
Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found, The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.
In all the house was heard no human sound.
A chain-dropp'd lamp was flickering by each door ;

The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound, And they are gone : ay, ages long ago
Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar;

These lovers tied away into the storm.
And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor. That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,

And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form XLI.

Of witch, and demon, and large coflin-worm, They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall; Were long be-nightmared. Angela the old Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide, Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform, Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,

The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, With a huge empty flagon by his side :

For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.




Or with a finger stay'd Ixion's wheel.
Her face was large as that of Memphian sphins,

Pedestall'd haply in a palace-court,
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale

When sages look'd to Egypt for their lore.

But oh! how unlike marble was that face:
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,

How beautiful, if Sorrow had not made
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,

Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.

There was a listening fear in her regard, Still as the silence round about his lair;

As if calamity had but began; Forest on forest hung about his head

As if the vanward clouds of evil days Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,

Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear Not so much life as on a summer's day

Was with its stored thunder laboring up Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass,

One hand she press d upon that aching spot But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.

Where beats the human heart, as if just there, A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more

Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain : By reason of his fallen divinity

The other upon Saturn's bended neck Spreading a shade : the Naiad 'mid her reeds

She laid, and to the level of his ear Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips.

Leaning with paried lips, some words she spake

In solemn tenor and deep organ-ione :
Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went,
No further than to where his feet had stray'd,

Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue

Would come in these like accents ; O how frail And slept there since. Upon the sodden ground His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,

To that large utterance of the early Gods!

" Saturn, look up!-though wherefore, poor old King! Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed;

I have no comfort for thee, no not one:
While his bow'd head seem'd list'ning to the Earth,
His ancient mother, for some comfort yet.

I cannot say, 'O wherefore sleepest thon?

For heaven is parted from thee, and the earth It seem'd no force could wake him from his place ; And ocean too, with all its solemn noise,

Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God;
But there came one, who with a kindred hand
Touch'd his wide shoulders, after bending low

Ilas from thy sceptre passid ; and all the air With reverence, though to one who knew it not.

Is emptied of thine hoary majesty. She was a Goddess of the infant world;

Thy thunder, conscious of the new command,

Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house;
By her in stature the tall Amazon
Had stood a pigmy's height: she would have ta’en

And thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands

Scorches and burns our once serene domain. Achilles by the hair and bent his neck;

O aching time! O moments big as years!

All as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth, * If any apology be thought necessary for the appear. That unbelief has not a space to breathe

And press it so upon our weary griefs ance of the infinished poem of HyPERION, the publishers beg to state that they alone are responsible, as it was print- Saturn, sleep on:-0 thoughtless, why did I ed at their particular request, and contrary to the wish of Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude ? the author. The poem was intended to have been of equal length with ENDYMION, but the reception given to Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes? that work discouraged the author from proceeding.

Saturn, sleep on while at thy feet i weep."

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As when, upon a tranced summer-night,

His Druid locks to shake and ooze with sweat, Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, His eyes to sever out, his voice to cease. Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, He stood, and heard not Thea's sobbing deep; Dream, and so dream all night without a stir, A liule time, and then again he snatch'd Save from one gradual solitary gust

Utterance thus :-“ But cannot I create ? Which comes upon the silence, and dies off, Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth As if the ebbing air had but one wave:

Another world, another universe, So came these words and went; the while in tears To overbear and crumble this to naught? She touch'd her fair large forehead to the ground, Where is another chaos? Where?"_That word Just where her falling hair might be outspread Found way unto Olympus, and made quake A soft and silken mat for Saturn's feet.

The rebel three. Thea was startled up, One moon, with alternation slow, had shed

And in her bearing was a sort of hope, Her silver seasons four upon the night,

As thus she quick-voiced spake, yet full of awe. And still these two were postured motionless, Like natural sculpture in cathedral cavern;

“This cheers our fallen house: come to our friends The frozen God still couchant on the earth, O Saturn! come away, and give them heart; And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet:

I know the covert, for thence came I hither." Unul at length old Saturn lifted up

Thus brief; then with beseeching eyes she went His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone,

With backward footing through the shade a space : And all the gloom and sorrow of the place, He follow'd, and she turn'd to lead the way And that fair kneeling Goddess; and then spake Through aged boughs, that yielded like the mist As with a palsied tongue, and while his beard Which eagles cleave, upmounting from their nest. Shook horrid with such aspen-malady: " () tender spouse of gold Hyperion,

Meanwhile in other realms big tears were shed, Thea, I feel thee ere I see thy face;

More sorrow like to this, and such like woe, Look up, and let me see our doom in it;

Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe :
Look up, and tell me if this feeble shape

The Titans fierce, self-hid, or prison-bound,
Is Saturn's; tell me, if thou hear'st the voice Groan'd for the old allegiance once more,
Of Saturn ; tell me, if this wrinkling brow, And listen'd in sharp pain for Saturn's voice.
Naked and bare of its great diadem,

But one of the whole mammoth-brood still kept
Peers like the front of Saturn. Who had power His sov’reignty, and rule, and majesty ;-
To make me desolate? whence came the strength ? Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire
How was it nurtured to such bursting forth, Sull sat, still snuff'd the incense, teeming up
While Fate seem'd strangled in my nervous grasp ? From man to the sun's God; yet unsecure :
But it is so; and I am smother'd up,

For as among us mortals omens drear And buried from all godlike exercise

Fright and perplex, so also shudder'd heof influence benign on planets pale,

Not at dog's howl, or gloom-bird's hated screech, Of admonitions to the winds and seas,

Or the familiar visiting of one
Of peaceful sway above man's harvesting, Upon the first toll of his passing-bell,
And all those acts which Deity supreme

Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp;
Doch ease its heart of love in.—I am gone

But horrors, portion'd to a giant nerve, Away from my own bosom: I have left

Oft made Hyperion ache. His palace bright, My strong identity, my real self,

Bastion’d with pyramids of glowing gold, Somewhere between the throne, and where I sit And touch'd with shade of bronzed obelisks, Here on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, search! Glared a blood-red through all its thousand courts, Open thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries; l'pon all space: space starr'd, and lorn of light: And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds Space region'd with life-air: and barren void; Flush'd angerly: while sometimes eagles' wings, Spaces of fire, and all the yawn of hell

Unseen before by Gods or wondering men, Search, Thea, search! and tell me, if thou seest Darken'd the place; and neighing steeds were heard, A certain shape or shadow, making way

Not heard before by Gods or wondering men.
With wings or chariot fierce to repossess

Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths
A heaven he lost erewhile: it must-it must Of incense, breathed aloft from sacred hills,
Be of ripe progress-- Saturn must be King. Instead of sweets, his ample palate took
Yes, there must be a golden victory;

Savor of poisonous brass and metal sick: There must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets And so, when harbor'd in the sleepy west, blown

After the full completion of fair day, Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival

For rest divine upon exalted couch, Upon the gold clouds metropolitan,

And slumber in the arms of melody, Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir

He paced away the pleasant hours of ease Of strings in hollow shells; and there shall be With stride colossal, on from hall to hall; Beautiful things made new, for the surprise

While far within each aisle and deep recess, Of the sky-children; I will give command: His winged minions in close clusters stood, Thea! Thea! where is Saturn ?"

Amazed and full of fear; like anxious men

Who on wide plains gather in panting troops, This passion lifted him upon his feet,

When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers. And made his hands to struggle in the air, Even now, while Saturn, roused from icy trance,


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Went step for step with Thea through the woods, Clear'd them of heavy vapors, burst them wide
Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear,

Suddenly on the ocean's chilly streams.
Came slope upon the threshold of the west; The planet orb of fire, whereon he rode
Then, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope Each day from east to west the heavens through,
In smoothed silence, save what solemn tubes, Spun round in sable curtaining of clouds;
Blown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet Not therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid,
And wandering sounds, slow-breathed melodies; But ever and anon the glancing spheres,
And like a rose in vermeil tint and shape,

Circles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure, In fragrance soft, and coolness to the eye,

Glow'd through, and wrought upon the muffling dark That inlet to severe magnificence

Sweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep Stood full-blown, for the God to enter in.

Up to the zenith,—hieroglyphics old,

Which sages and keen-eyed astrologers He enter'd, but he enter'd full of wrath ; Then living on the earth, with laboring thought His flaming robes stream'd out beyond his heels, Won from the gaze of many centuries : And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire,

Now lost, save what we find on remnants huge That scared away the meek ethereal Hours Of stone, or marble swart; their import gone, And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared, Their wisdom long since fled.-Two wings this orb From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault, Possess'd for glory, two fair argent wings, Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light, Ever exalted at the God's approach: And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades,

And now, from forth the gloom their plumes immense Until he reach'd the great main cupola ;

Rose, one by one, till all outspreaded were; There standing fierce beneath, he stamp'd his foot, While still ihe dazzling globe maintain'd eclipse, And from the basements deep to the high towers Awaiting for Hyperion's command. Jarr'd his own golden region; and before

Fain would he have commanded, fain took throne The quavering thunder thereupon had ceased, And bid the day begin, if but for change. His voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb, He might not :- No, though a primeval God: To this result: “O dreams of day and night! The sacred seasons might not be disturbid. O monstrous forms! O effigies of pain !

Therefore the operations of the dawn
O spectres busy in a cold, cold gloom!

Stay'd in their birth, even as here 'tis told,
O lank-ear'd Phantoms of black-weeded pools! 'Those silver wings expanded sisterly,
Why do I know ye? why have I seen ye? why Eager to sail their orb; the porches wide
Is my eternal essence thus distraught

Open'd upon the dusk demesnes of night
To see and to behold these horrors new?

And the bright Titan, frenzied with new woes, Saturn is fallen, am I too to fall ?

Unused to bend, by hard compulsion bent Am I to leave this haven of my rest,

His spirit to the sorrow of the time; This cradle of my glory, this soft clime,

And all along a dismal rack of clouds, This calm luxuriance of blissful light,

Upon the boundaries of day and night, These crystalline pavilions, and pure fanes, He stretch'd himself in grief and radiance faint. Of all my lucent empire? It is left

There as he lay, the Heaven with its stars Deserted, void, nor any haunt of mine.

Look'd down on him with pily, and the voice The blaze, the splendor, and the symmetry,

or Cælus, from the universal space, I cannot see--but darkness, death and darkness. Thus whisper'd low and solemn in his ear. Even here, into my centre of repose,

“O brightest of my children dear, earth-born The shady visions come to domineer,

And sky-engender'd, Son of Mysteries! Insult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp

All unrevealed even to the powers Fall !-No, by Tellus and her briny robes !

Which met at thy creating! at whose joys Over the fiery frontier of my realms

And palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft, I will advance a terrible right arm

I, Caelus, wonder, how they came and whence; Shall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove, And at the fruits thereof what shapes they be, And bid old Saturn take his throne again."

Distinct, and visible; symbols divine,
He spake, and ceased, the while a heavier threat Manifestations of that beauteous life
Held struggle with his throat, but came not forth; Diffused unseen throughout eternal space ;
For as in theatres of crowded men

Of these new-form'd art thou, oh brightest child!
Hubbub increases more they call out“ Hush!” Of these, thy brethren and the Goddesses!
So at Hyperion's words the Phantoms pale 'l'here is sad fend among ye, and rebellion
Bestirr'd themselves, thrice horrible and cold ; Of son against his sire. I saw him fall,
And from the mirror'd level where he slood I saw my first-horn tumbled from his throne!
A mist arose, as from a scummy marsh.

To me his arms were spread, to me his voice At this, through all his bulk an agony

Found way from forth the thunders round his head! Crept gradual, from the feet into the crown, Pale wox I, and in rapors hid my face. Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular

Art thou, too, near such doom? vague fear there is: Making slow wa with head and neck convulsed For I have seen my sons most unlike Gods. From overstrained might. Released, he fled Divine ye were created, and divine To the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours In sad demeanor, solemn, undisturbid, Before the dawn in season due should blush, Unruffled, like high Gods, ye lived and ruled : He breathed fierce breath against the sleepy portals, Now I behold in you, fear, hope, and wrath;

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