The Flood of Thessaly The Girl of Provence, and Other Poems. By Barry Cornwall [i.e. Bryan Waller Procter] |
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 | The Flood of Thessaly |  |
He falls, he falls; His ancient reign is over:
And on his neck a golden chain is laid,
And on his eye an eye
Darts like the blinding sun; and in his ears
Sounds like the morn, terrible harmonies,
Rage, as the ocean rages
Beneath the eclipsing moon.
And on his neck a golden chain is laid,
And on his eye an eye
Darts like the blinding sun; and in his ears
Sounds like the morn, terrible harmonies,
Rage, as the ocean rages
Beneath the eclipsing moon.
Silence is gone: and Night,
Glittering with terror, for the first time bares
Her star-bewildered face, and strangely smiles;
And the winds laugh aloud; and every pore
Of the blue air stung with a radiant life
Drops sweets; and nodding forests lose their gloom;
And twilight caves are shining
Set round with splendours like the set of suns:
And Music (which had perish'd) is born again;
And like a bird new-wakened in the night
Uttereth her liquid notes, from spangled streams
And fountains,—till the leaves are touched to tears;
And every valley sinks writhing with joy;
And every hill aspires,
Ambitious to behold a new born God.
Glittering with terror, for the first time bares
Her star-bewildered face, and strangely smiles;
And the winds laugh aloud; and every pore
Of the blue air stung with a radiant life
Drops sweets; and nodding forests lose their gloom;
And twilight caves are shining
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And Music (which had perish'd) is born again;
And like a bird new-wakened in the night
Uttereth her liquid notes, from spangled streams
And fountains,—till the leaves are touched to tears;
And every valley sinks writhing with joy;
And every hill aspires,
Ambitious to behold a new born God.
Saturn alone (Heaven's king and Earth's) with scorn
Looks on the time; and with impetuous strength
Tears his harmonious bonds and golden chains,
And spurning, with a shout, the obsequious ground,
Invades the shrinking air.
—He rises, like a ruin,
Loosen'd by earthquakes from its deep foundations,
And hung in the days of plague
O'er some bad city, whose wide streets are thronged
With millions, stained with death, yet fearing woe.
How, if he so descend?—
He springs,—he rises:
His course is like the comet's, fierce and bright:—
So the death-hunted serpent, crowned with wrongs,
Springs from the reeds of Nile:—So that vast snake
Strong as a tempest, that lays waste whole lands,
Darts, like a wrath, from out his Asian haunts,
And gripes the groaning lion till he dies.
Looks on the time; and with impetuous strength
Tears his harmonious bonds and golden chains,
And spurning, with a shout, the obsequious ground,
Invades the shrinking air.
—He rises, like a ruin,
Loosen'd by earthquakes from its deep foundations,
And hung in the days of plague
O'er some bad city, whose wide streets are thronged
With millions, stained with death, yet fearing woe.
How, if he so descend?—
He springs,—he rises:
His course is like the comet's, fierce and bright:—
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Springs from the reeds of Nile:—So that vast snake
Strong as a tempest, that lays waste whole lands,
Darts, like a wrath, from out his Asian haunts,
And gripes the groaning lion till he dies.
He rushes thro' the air: the sullen air
Avoids him, and his wings, out-spread in vain,
Flap on the void. His strength departs:—he falls.—
As some brave swimmer whom the waves o'ermatch
Looks far to land—in vain,
So doth the aged Saturn's starting eye
Glare on the faithless sky its red reproach,
Its first,—its last. The fiery Phœbus
Sheds all his ire on that unsheltered brain.
He falls; and not a voice
From Earth or Heaven is heard to speak for him:
No tears (tho' false) are shed: no heart is touched
With human anguish for a God dethroned.
Avoids him, and his wings, out-spread in vain,
Flap on the void. His strength departs:—he falls.—
As some brave swimmer whom the waves o'ermatch
Looks far to land—in vain,
So doth the aged Saturn's starting eye
Glare on the faithless sky its red reproach,
Its first,—its last. The fiery Phœbus
Sheds all his ire on that unsheltered brain.
He falls; and not a voice
From Earth or Heaven is heard to speak for him:
No tears (tho' false) are shed: no heart is touched
With human anguish for a God dethroned.
He falls,—he falls—he falls,
Ten thousand fathoms down,
And the dusky crown
Is stripped for ever from his kingly brow.
His son?—His son is King!
Hark!—the Heavens ring:
Jove is elected Lord of life and woe:
His thunders speak; his lightnings come and go:
His pomps are all around;
Bright light and mighty sound
Attend him, and his radiant armies flow
Like rivers round the throne;
He is God alone.
Ten thousand fathoms down,
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Is stripped for ever from his kingly brow.
His son?—His son is King!
Hark!—the Heavens ring:
Jove is elected Lord of life and woe:
His thunders speak; his lightnings come and go:
His pomps are all around;
Bright light and mighty sound
Attend him, and his radiant armies flow
Like rivers round the throne;
He is God alone.
And where is Saturn?—On what silent shore
Doth he lament his wrongs and old exile?
In what dull woods whereon no Summers smile,
And all the Springs (if any were) are o'er?
Where Autumn and her bounty are not known;
Where Winter pineth for his icy crown,
And the long year, breathing one endless sigh,
Stripped of the seasons hath not learned to die?—
Doth he lament his wrongs and old exile?
In what dull woods whereon no Summers smile,
And all the Springs (if any were) are o'er?
Where Autumn and her bounty are not known;
Where Winter pineth for his icy crown,
And the long year, breathing one endless sigh,
Stripped of the seasons hath not learned to die?—
—Saturn the king is gone:—perhaps in vain
He howleth to the heedless winds his pain.
No matter:—Such great end
Is surely worth a friend:
The Father falls,—but, look! the Son doth reign!
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No matter:—Such great end
Is surely worth a friend:
The Father falls,—but, look! the Son doth reign!
| The Flood of Thessaly | |