 | An Ode |  |
AN ODE.
[Lone is the night]
“SHEW HIS EYES, AND GRIEVE HIS HEART,
“COME LIKE SHADOWS, SO DEPART.”
MACBETH
“COME LIKE SHADOWS, SO DEPART.”
MACBETH
Lone is the night;
A cresset hangs on high;—
The chamber's gloom is broken with its light,
Which beams in darkness beautiful and bright;—
Like one white star upon a sable sky.
Beneath—beneath—
As still as death;—
Lonely a Monarch lies in seeming mildness;—
But oh! within,
The giant Sin
Sits on his heart:—and all is fear and wildness!
A cresset hangs on high;—
The chamber's gloom is broken with its light,
Which beams in darkness beautiful and bright;—
Like one white star upon a sable sky.
Beneath—beneath—
As still as death;—
Lonely a Monarch lies in seeming mildness;—
But oh! within,
The giant Sin
Sits on his heart:—and all is fear and wildness!
8
With steady glare his eyes are thrown,
To where the light falls faintly down
Upon a richly jewell'd crown,
Which on a marble table lies,
The idol of his heart, the glory of his eyes.
To where the light falls faintly down
Upon a richly jewell'd crown,
Which on a marble table lies,
The idol of his heart, the glory of his eyes.
He gazes—groans—the mind hath caught
A fierceness from bewildering thought,
That fires his brain, and lights his eye,
And maddens into apathy!
He pauses—strives to shun in vain,
The sparkling object of his pain,
That fascinates his soul, and wins his glance again!
The colour hurries from his lip and cheeks,—
And hark!—he speaks—he speaks—
A fierceness from bewildering thought,
That fires his brain, and lights his eye,
And maddens into apathy!
He pauses—strives to shun in vain,
The sparkling object of his pain,
That fascinates his soul, and wins his glance again!
The colour hurries from his lip and cheeks,—
And hark!—he speaks—he speaks—
“My work of blood is o'er,
And I shall feel no more
The wings of victory fan my crown-girt head:—
Fury, and Shame, and Hate
Are ling'ring round the gate,
To check my triumphs and revenge the dead!
Heaven on my broken fortune lours,—
My banner falls—my eagle cowers,—
Strong foes have cluster'd round the throne,
Farewell repose—farewell renown!”
And I shall feel no more
The wings of victory fan my crown-girt head:—
Fury, and Shame, and Hate
Are ling'ring round the gate,
To check my triumphs and revenge the dead!
9
My banner falls—my eagle cowers,—
Strong foes have cluster'd round the throne,
Farewell repose—farewell renown!”
“Danger awaits my beauteous bride,
My bosom's only spotless flower;
For war hath roll'd its fearful tide,
Even to the palace of my power.
What now remain;—ambition crost;—
A spirit in its tempest lost,—
Like mountain billows broken in their rage;—
What but an unlamented fate,—
Death from the hand of Wrath or Hate;—
Forsaken manhood—solitary age!”
My bosom's only spotless flower;
For war hath roll'd its fearful tide,
Even to the palace of my power.
What now remain;—ambition crost;—
A spirit in its tempest lost,—
Like mountain billows broken in their rage;—
What but an unlamented fate,—
Death from the hand of Wrath or Hate;—
Forsaken manhood—solitary age!”
“For me there is no rest,
Heart-hushing slumber flies,
My ever watching, ever aching eyes;—
And lonely breast.
Faded glory—broken might—
Must join me in the hasty flight,
If, with a spirit thirsting to be free,
I seek for Liberty!
Oh! Liberty!—thou heavenly form of light!
Why hast thou fled from me?
What, if with desperate hand I strive
To force my way to thee—and live:
My foes will seek to lay me low,
No home will rise to soothe my care—
No shelter save my burning brow;—
Houseless despair!
And if in conflict fierce I fall—
Struck down by all!
What voice will scare the vulture from my form?
What eye deplore the ravage of the worm?
I triumph not in fight!
Farewell the visions, once so sunny bright:—
Fate—dismal fate,
Frowns at my gate;
The crown is lost—and I am desolate.”
Heart-hushing slumber flies,
My ever watching, ever aching eyes;—
And lonely breast.
Faded glory—broken might—
Must join me in the hasty flight,
10
I seek for Liberty!
Oh! Liberty!—thou heavenly form of light!
Why hast thou fled from me?
What, if with desperate hand I strive
To force my way to thee—and live:
My foes will seek to lay me low,
No home will rise to soothe my care—
No shelter save my burning brow;—
Houseless despair!
And if in conflict fierce I fall—
Struck down by all!
What voice will scare the vulture from my form?
What eye deplore the ravage of the worm?
I triumph not in fight!
Farewell the visions, once so sunny bright:—
Fate—dismal fate,
Frowns at my gate;
The crown is lost—and I am desolate.”
“Yon stilly lamp
Looks dimly down upon my pallid front;
The night—chill—damp—
Frowns gloomier on me now than it was wont!
And see—and see—what forms are there,—
What awful forms of shadowy air;
Spare me—ye withering spectres! spare—oh spare!”
Looks dimly down upon my pallid front;
The night—chill—damp—
Frowns gloomier on me now than it was wont!
11
What awful forms of shadowy air;
Spare me—ye withering spectres! spare—oh spare!”
Terror advanc'd!
His cautious foot noiselessly touch'd the ground,
His large wild eye-balls glanc'd,
With hurried strength aside—above—around,—
As if a danger in the air were found.
Pale, ghastly pale, were lips and sunken cheek,
His tottering limbs were weak;—
In quiet helplessness his arms hung down,
Bent was his body low;
And the aspen leaves that form'd his crown,
Trembled upon his brow.
His cautious foot noiselessly touch'd the ground,
His large wild eye-balls glanc'd,
With hurried strength aside—above—around,—
As if a danger in the air were found.
Pale, ghastly pale, were lips and sunken cheek,
His tottering limbs were weak;—
In quiet helplessness his arms hung down,
Bent was his body low;
And the aspen leaves that form'd his crown,
Trembled upon his brow.
The restless Monarch turn'd his full dark eye,
Terror was standing by!—
The restless monarch clos'd it, for the sprite
Blasted its light!—
He plac'd his hand upon his heart of care;
Terror had chill'd him there!
Shuddering and weeping, now Remorse drew near,
He paus'd, and gaz'd upon the Monarch's bed;
The lamp's ray gleam'd upon the big bright tear,
That dropp'd upon his hand with blood dark-red,
He leant above the royal brow,
And told his tale of crimes and woe,
Which to the breast went heavily,
And stung the Monarch's memory;
He told his crimes with sob, and sigh, and start,
As inward torture wrung them from his heart.
And oft the tremors went and came,
In coldness o'er his wither'd frame,
As he mutter'd wildly o'er the past,
With quivering lip and look aghast,
He said that silence breath'd of his despair,
And that his guilt was whisper'd by the wind;—
He heard the death-shriek in the midnight air,
And sullenly look'd back on murder'd forms behind!
Terror was standing by!—
The restless monarch clos'd it, for the sprite
Blasted its light!—
He plac'd his hand upon his heart of care;
Terror had chill'd him there!
12
He paus'd, and gaz'd upon the Monarch's bed;
The lamp's ray gleam'd upon the big bright tear,
That dropp'd upon his hand with blood dark-red,
He leant above the royal brow,
And told his tale of crimes and woe,
Which to the breast went heavily,
And stung the Monarch's memory;
He told his crimes with sob, and sigh, and start,
As inward torture wrung them from his heart.
And oft the tremors went and came,
In coldness o'er his wither'd frame,
As he mutter'd wildly o'er the past,
With quivering lip and look aghast,
He said that silence breath'd of his despair,
And that his guilt was whisper'd by the wind;—
He heard the death-shriek in the midnight air,
And sullenly look'd back on murder'd forms behind!
Anger burst upon the night,
Dishevell'd was his long dark hair;—
His eyes with desolating glare
Roll'd amid a fiery light!
His redd'ning cheek, and swelling vein,
And trembling lip, and madding brain,
Bewilder'd sense and sight.
He rav'd with agonizing tongue,
Of overwhelming vengeance—cruel wrong;—
And fickle Fortune's slight:
Oft with a frenzied start,
He scar'd descending Rest:
And the whirlwind feelings of the breast
Raged round his stormy heart.
Dishevell'd was his long dark hair;—
His eyes with desolating glare
Roll'd amid a fiery light!
13
And trembling lip, and madding brain,
Bewilder'd sense and sight.
He rav'd with agonizing tongue,
Of overwhelming vengeance—cruel wrong;—
And fickle Fortune's slight:
Oft with a frenzied start,
He scar'd descending Rest:
And the whirlwind feelings of the breast
Raged round his stormy heart.
To save the Monarch, Anger now was maddening,
To cheer a breast, tormenting thoughts were saddening;
Soft music breath'd—an angel's sigh
Just melted from the morning sky,—
And Heaven's own light beam'd cheerfully.
To cheer a breast, tormenting thoughts were saddening;
Soft music breath'd—an angel's sigh
Just melted from the morning sky,—
And Heaven's own light beam'd cheerfully.
Gay from above,
With laughing heart, and all enamouring eyes,
Descended Love!
His airy wings were of the sweetest dies,
Rich as the rainbow of the summer skies;
Or the bright tints that play'd upon the wing
Of bee that hover'd, lightly murmuring,
O'er flowers of Paradise!
His ringlet-cluster'd brow
Shone in its whiteness like the mountain snow,
On which the moonbeams rest;—
Oh! it was clear as the wild sparkling stream,
That runs with morning rays upon its breast;—
And light as childhood's dream.
With laughing heart, and all enamouring eyes,
Descended Love!
His airy wings were of the sweetest dies,
Rich as the rainbow of the summer skies;
14
Of bee that hover'd, lightly murmuring,
O'er flowers of Paradise!
His ringlet-cluster'd brow
Shone in its whiteness like the mountain snow,
On which the moonbeams rest;—
Oh! it was clear as the wild sparkling stream,
That runs with morning rays upon its breast;—
And light as childhood's dream.
Love came, with pranksome mirthfulness,
And laughingly shook each auburn tress,
Which threw around a light so fair,
That the night seem'd steep'd in sunny air.
Upon his cheeks, with rosy glee,
Sat Youth and sparkling Gaiety,
And from his eyes there came and went
Frank-hearted, tricksy, Merriment.
Love look'd—and linger'd there—
As if it were his own delicious bower,
He whisper'd fondly of the fairy flower,
That still would gem the Monarch's path of care.
Love beam'd upon him like a ray of light,
Breath'd him his blessing—and then wing'd his flight.
And laughingly shook each auburn tress,
Which threw around a light so fair,
That the night seem'd steep'd in sunny air.
Upon his cheeks, with rosy glee,
Sat Youth and sparkling Gaiety,
And from his eyes there came and went
Frank-hearted, tricksy, Merriment.
Love look'd—and linger'd there—
As if it were his own delicious bower,
He whisper'd fondly of the fairy flower,
That still would gem the Monarch's path of care.
15
Breath'd him his blessing—and then wing'd his flight.
Hope would have follow'd with her shape of air,
And eyes of softness—lips of promise fair,—
But that a stern and dreadful shade,
Scared the light presence of the blue-eyed maid,
And chased the heavenly beams that round her play'd.
And eyes of softness—lips of promise fair,—
But that a stern and dreadful shade,
Scared the light presence of the blue-eyed maid,
And chased the heavenly beams that round her play'd.
It was Despair—the solitary one!
He lov'd to walk apart;—
The deep and hollow sadness of his tone
Went to the heart!
In utter senselessness he came—
All hope was flown;
He look'd;—so pale was he—so tame—
A form of stone!
His bitterness forbad relief,
He seem'd to banquet on his grief;—
Banquet alone!
So quiet were his brow and breast
That many would have deem'd such stillness, rest.
But when the searching glances fell,
Upon his fix'd yet maddening eyes;—
The bosom's desperate miseries,
From a too-trustful feeling caught,
Were read too well;—
His brow was but the tomb of thought,
His breast was sorrow's cell.
He past the Monarch silently,
But he bent on him his withering eye,
And his wild glance and freezing air
Mark'd him Despair!
He lov'd to walk apart;—
The deep and hollow sadness of his tone
Went to the heart!
In utter senselessness he came—
All hope was flown;
He look'd;—so pale was he—so tame—
A form of stone!
His bitterness forbad relief,
He seem'd to banquet on his grief;—
Banquet alone!
So quiet were his brow and breast
That many would have deem'd such stillness, rest.
16
Upon his fix'd yet maddening eyes;—
The bosom's desperate miseries,
From a too-trustful feeling caught,
Were read too well;—
His brow was but the tomb of thought,
His breast was sorrow's cell.
He past the Monarch silently,
But he bent on him his withering eye,
And his wild glance and freezing air
Mark'd him Despair!
Hate, with his dark, suspicious scowl,
Slowly—maliciously, drew near;—
Over his features hung a shadowy cowl,
Drawn down as if by Fear!
The Monarch started—
Rose on his couch with fierceness in his eye,
He seem'd wild-hearted—
With savage joy and restless ecstasy:
“Hail to thee—dreadful shade!—all hail—
Let glory fade, and conquest fail,—
To thee I now resign my heart,
And with Ambition's visions part.
Farewell the sparkling diadem,
So bright with many a glorious gem;
No more I wrestle with the foes,
That darkly round my palace close.
Hail deadly Hate! for ever frown
Full on these foes and on the crown;
And quit them, Hate! oh never, never—
Frown darkly—and for ever!”
Slowly—maliciously, drew near;—
Over his features hung a shadowy cowl,
Drawn down as if by Fear!
The Monarch started—
Rose on his couch with fierceness in his eye,
He seem'd wild-hearted—
With savage joy and restless ecstasy:
“Hail to thee—dreadful shade!—all hail—
Let glory fade, and conquest fail,—
To thee I now resign my heart,
And with Ambition's visions part.
17
So bright with many a glorious gem;
No more I wrestle with the foes,
That darkly round my palace close.
Hail deadly Hate! for ever frown
Full on these foes and on the crown;
And quit them, Hate! oh never, never—
Frown darkly—and for ever!”
The crown he wildly cast away—and all
Sang in mad rapture o'er the Monarch's fall.
They shouted—and the air was riven
With sounds that burst as from the grave;
Such shouts the vanquish'd angels gave,
Falling from heaven!
The shades fled upward on the gloomy air,
And as they fled—
He gaz'd with parted lips, and back bent head,
And outstretch'd-trembling hands and earnest stare;—
He listen'd there,
As one in all but sight and hearing dead!
Heart, soul, and life were in the tones,
That broke upon the ear, half gladness and half groans.
O'er his haggard eyes they hover'd,
Like eagles screaming o'er their prey;—
They utter'd sounds that shed dismay,
Of crown for ever lost!—he started—
Bewilder'd—speechless—broken-hearted—
And with a trembling hand his bursting eye-balls cover'd!
Sang in mad rapture o'er the Monarch's fall.
They shouted—and the air was riven
With sounds that burst as from the grave;
Such shouts the vanquish'd angels gave,
Falling from heaven!
The shades fled upward on the gloomy air,
And as they fled—
He gaz'd with parted lips, and back bent head,
And outstretch'd-trembling hands and earnest stare;—
He listen'd there,
As one in all but sight and hearing dead!
Heart, soul, and life were in the tones,
That broke upon the ear, half gladness and half groans.
18
Like eagles screaming o'er their prey;—
They utter'd sounds that shed dismay,
Of crown for ever lost!—he started—
Bewilder'd—speechless—broken-hearted—
And with a trembling hand his bursting eye-balls cover'd!
The breathing silence of the night,
Was troubled with their sullen flight;
And the Monarch paus'd long, listening,
Till fainter wav'd each rustling wing;—
But still he heard the hurrying host,
Singing their triumphs high in upper air;—
“Wrench'd is the sceptre from thy hand—Despair!
Thy crown is lost!”
O'er his sad ear the last word darkly crost—
“Lost!”
Was troubled with their sullen flight;
And the Monarch paus'd long, listening,
Till fainter wav'd each rustling wing;—
But still he heard the hurrying host,
Singing their triumphs high in upper air;—
“Wrench'd is the sceptre from thy hand—Despair!
Thy crown is lost!”
O'er his sad ear the last word darkly crost—
“Lost!”
FINIS.
| An Ode | |