Though you may imagine That I know little of the laws of duel, Which vanity and valour instituted, You are in error. By my birth I am Held no less than yourselves to know the limits Of honour and of infamy, nor has study Quenched the free spirit which first ordered them; And thus to me, as one well experienced In the false quicksands of the sea of honour, You may refer the merits of the case; And if I should perceive in your relation That either has the right to satisfaction
From the other, I give you my word of honour To leave you.
O memory! permit it not That the tyrant of my thought Be another soul that still Holds dominion o'er the will; That would refuse, but can no more, To bend, to tremble, and adore. Vain idolatry!—I saw,
And gazing became blind with error; Weak ambition, which the awe Of her presence bound to terror! So beautiful she was-and I, Between my love and jealousy, Am so convulsed with hope and fear, Unworthy as it may appear;-
So bitter is the life I live,
That, hear me, Hell! I now would give
To thy most detested spirit
My soul, for ever to inherit,
To suffer punishment and pine,
So this woman may be mine.
Hear'st thou, Hell! dost thou reject it? ¿ My soul is offered!
DEMON (unseen).
I accept it.
[Tempest, with thunder and lightning.
What is this! ye heavens, for ever pure, At once intensely radiant and obscure! Athwart the ethereal halls The lightning's arrow and the thunder-balls The day affright,
As from the horizon round, Burst with earthquake sound,
In mighty torrents the electric fountains ;- Clouds quench the sun, and thunder smoke Strangles the air, and fire eclipses heaven. Philosophy, thou canst not even
Compel their causes underneath thy yoke, From yonder clouds even to the waves below The fragments of a single ruin choke
Imagination's flight;
For, on flakes of surge, like feathers light, The ashes of the desolation cast
Upon the gloomy blast,
Tell of the footsteps of the storm. And nearer see the melancholy form Of a great ship, the outcast of the sea, Drives miserably!
And it must fly the pity of the port, Or perish, and its last and sole resort Is its own raging enemy.
The terror of the thrilling cry
Was a fatal prophecy
Of coming death, who hovers now Upon that shattered prow,
That they who die not may be dying still. And not alone the insane elements Are populous with wild portents, But that sad ship is as a miracle Of sudden ruin, for it drives so fast It seems as if it had arrayed its form With the headlong storm.
It strikes I almost feel the shock,- It stumbles on a jagged rock,- Sparkles of blood on the white foam are cast. A tempest-All exclaim within
As in contempt of the elemental rage
A man comes forth in safety, while the ship's Great form is in a watery eclipse Obliterated from the Ocean's page,
And round its wreck the huge sea-monsters sit, A horrid conclave, and the whistling wave Are heaped over its carcase, like a grave.
The DÆMON enters as escaped from the sea. DÆMON (aside).
It was essential to my purposes To wake a tumult on the sapphire ocean, That in this unknown form I might at length Wipe out the blot of the discomfiture Sustained upon the mountain, and assail With a new war the soul of Cyprian, Forging the instruments of his destruction Even from his love and from his wisdom.-O Beloved earth, dear mother, in thy bosom I seek a refuge from the monster who Precipitates itself upon me.
Collect thyself; and be the memory Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrow But as a shadow of the past,-for nothing Beneath the circle of the moon but flows And changes, and can never know repose.
And who art thou, before whose feet my fate Has prostrated me?
Since thou desirest, I will then unveil Myself to thee;-for in myself I-am A world of happiness and misery; This I have lost, and that I must lament For ever. In my attributes I stood
So high and so heroically great,
In lineage so supreme, and with a genius Which penetrated with a glance the world Beneath my feet, that won by my high merit A king-whom I may call the King of kings, Because all others tremble in their pride Before the terrors of his countenance, In his high palace roofed with brightest gems Of living light-call them the stars of Heaven- Named me his counsellor. But the high praise Stung me with pride and envy, and I rose In mighty competition, to ascend
His seat, and place my foot triumphantly Upon his subject thrones. Chastised, I know The depth to which ambition falls; too mad Was the attempt, and yet more mad were now Repentance of the irrevocable deed :- Therefore I chose this ruin with the glory Of not to be subdued, before the shame Of reconciling me with him who reigns By coward cession.-Nor was I alone, Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone;
And there was hope, and there may still be hope, For many suffrages among his vassals Hailed me their lord and king, and many still Are mine, and many more perchance shall be. Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious,
I left his seat of empire, from mine eye Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words With inauspicious thunderings shook Heaven, Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong, And imprecating on his prostrate slaves Rapine and death, and outrage. Then I sailed
One who, moved with pity, Over the mighty fabric of the world,
A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands, A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves And craggy shores; and I have wandered over The expanse of these wide wildernesses In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved In the light breathings of the invisible wind, And which the sea has made a dustless ruin, Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests I seek a man, whom I must now compel To keep his word with me. I came arrayed In tempest, and, although my power could well Bridle the forest winds in their career,
For other causes I forbore to soothe Their fury to Favonian gentleness;
I could and would not: (thus I wake in him [Aside A love of magic art.) Let not this tempest, Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder; For by my art the sun would turn as pale As his weak sister with unwonted fear; And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven Written as in a record. I have pierced The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres, And know them as thou knowest every corner Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work A charm over this waste and savage wood, This Babylon of crags and aged trees, Filling its leafy coverts with a horror Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest Of these wild oaks and pines-and as from thee I have received the hospitality
Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit Of years of toil in recompense; whate'er Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought As object of desire, that shall be thine.
And thenceforth shall so firm an amity "Twixt thou and me be, that neither fortune, The monstrous phantom which pursues success, That careful miser, that free prodigal, Who ever alternates with changeful hand Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time, That loadstar of the ages, to whose beam The winged years speed o'er the intervals Of their unequal revolutions; nor Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars Rule and adorn the world, can ever make The least division between thee and me, Since now I find a refuge in thy favour.
The DEMON tempts JUSTINA, who is a Christian.
Abyss of Hell! I call on thee,
Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy ! From thy prison-house set free
The spirits of voluptuous death,
That with their mighty breath
They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts;
Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes
Be peopled from thy shadowy deep,
Till her guiltless phantasy
Full to overflowing be!
And, with sweetest harmony,
What is the glory far above All else in human life?
[While these words are sung, the DEMON goes out at one door, and JUSTINA enters at another.
There is no form in which the fire Of love its traces has impressed not. Man lives far more in love's desire Than by life's breath soon possessed not. If all that lives must love or die, All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky, With one consent to Heaven cry That the glory far above All else in life is-
Thou melancholy thought, which art So fluttering and so sweet, to thee When did I give the liberty Thus to afflict my heart? What is the cause of this new power Which doth my fevered being move, Momently raging more and more? What subtle pain is kindled now Which from my heart doth overflow Into my senses?—
"Tis that enamoured nightingale Who gives me the reply: He ever tells the same soft tale Of passion and of constancy To his mate, who rapt, and fond, Listening sits, a bough beyond.
Be silent, Nightingale !-No more Make me think, in hearing thee Thus tenderly thy love deplore, If a bird can feel his so,
What a man would feel for me.
And, voluptuous vine, O thou
Who seekest most when least pursuing,
To the trunk thou interlacest
Art the verdure which embracest,
And the weight which is its ruin,
No more, with green embraces, vine, Make me think on what thou lovest,For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine,
Let birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things move I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist,
To love, only to love.
Let nothing meet her eyes
But signs of Love's soft victories;
Let nothing meet her ear
But sounds of Love's sweet sorrow;
So that from faith no succour may she borrow,
But, guided by my spirit blind And in a magic snare entwined, She may now seek Cyprian. Begin, while I in silence bind
My voice, when thy sweet song thou hast begun.
How arms might be entangled too.
Light-enchanted sunflower, thou Who gazest ever true and tender On the sun's revolving splendour, Follow not his faithless glance With thy faded countenance, Nor teach my beating heart to fear, If leaves can mourn without a tear, How eyes must weep! O Nightingale, Cease from thy enamoured tale,—
Appeal to Heaven against thee! so that Heaven May scatter thy delusions, and the blot Upon my fame vanish in idle thought, Even as flame dies in the envious air, And as the flow'ret wanes at morning frost, And thou shouldst never-But, alas! to whom Do I still speak?-Did not a man but now Stand here before me?-No, I am alone, And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly? Or can the heated mind engender shapes From its own fear? Some terrible and strange Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord! Livia!-
« 上一頁繼續 » |