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Upon its own producer, forthwith touch'd
The whole enormous matter into life. Upon that very hour, our parentage, The Heavens and the Earth, were manifest:
Then thou first-born, and we the giant
Found ourselves ruling new and beauteous realms.
Now comes the pain of truth, to whom 'tis pain;
O folly for to bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty. Mark well!
As Heaven and Earth are fairer, fairer far
Than Chaos and blank Darkness, though once chiefs;
And as we show beyond that Heaven and Earth
In form 'and shape compact and beautiful,
In will, in action free, companionship, And thousand other signs of purer life; So on our heels a fresh perfection treads, A power more strong in beauty, born
And fated to excel us, as we pass
Of shapeless Chaos. Say, doth the dull soil
Quarrel with the proud forests it hath fed,
And feedeth still, more comely than itself?
Can it deny the chiefdom of green groves?
Or shall the tree be envious of the dove Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings To wander wherewithal and find itsjoys? We are such forest-trees, and our fair boughs
Have bred forth, not pale solitary doves, But eagles golden-feather'd, who do
Above us in their beauty, and must reign
Yea, by that law, another race may drive
By noble winged creatures he hath made?
I saw him on the calmed waters scud, With such a glow of beauty in his eyes, That it enforc'd me to bid sad farewell To all my empire: farewell sad I took, And hither came, to see how dolorous fate
Had wrought upon ye; and how I might best
Give consolation in this woe extreme. Receive the truth, and let it be your balm."
Whether through poz'd conviction, or disdain,
They guarded silence, when Oceanus Left murmuring, what deepest thought can tell?
none answer'd for a
But so it was, space, Save one whom none regarded, Cly
And yet she answer'd not, only complain'd,
With hectic lips, and eyes up-looking mild,
Thus wording timidly among the fierce: "O Father, I am here the simplest voice,
And all my knowledge is that joy is gone,
Yet let me tell my sorrow, let me tell
And know that we had parted from all hope.
I stood upon a shore, a pleasant shore, Where a sweet clime was breathed from a land
Of fragrance, quietness, and trees, and flowers.
Full of calm joy it was, as I of grief; Too full of joy and soft delicious warmth;
So that I felt a movement in my heart To chide, and to reproach that solitude With songs of misery, music of our woes; And sat me down, and took a mouthed shell And murmur'd into it, and made melody
O melody no more! for while I sang,
"Or shall we listen to the over-wise, Or to the over-foolish giant, Gods? Not thunderbolt on thunderbolt, till all That rebel Jove's whole armory were spent,
Not world on world upon these shoulders piled,
Could agonize me more than baby-words In midst of this dethronement horrible. Speak! roar! shout! yell! ye sleepy Titans all.
Do ye forget the blows, the buffets vile? Are ye not smitten by a youngling arm? Dost thou forget, sham Monarch of the Waves,
Thy scalding in the seas? What, have I rous'd
Your spleens with so few simple words as these?
O joy! for now I see ye are not lost :
Saturn sat near the Mother of the Gods,
THUS in alternate uproar and sad peace,
For thou art weak to sing such tumults dire:
A solitary sorrow best befits
Thy lips, and antheming a lonely grief. Leave them, O Muse! for thou anon wilt find
Many a fallen old Divinity
Wandering in vain about bewildered shores. Meantime touch piously the Delphic harp,
And not a wind of heaven but will breathe
In aid soft warble from the Dorian flute; For lo! 'tis for the Father of all verse. Flush every thing that hath a vermeil hue,
Let the rose glow intense and warm the air,
And let the clouds of even and of morn Float in voluptuous fleeces o'er the hills; Let the red wine within the goblet boil, Cold as a bubbling well; let faint-lipp'd shells,
Lift up their heads, as still the whisper pass'd. [fore, Goddess! I have beheld those eyes beAnd their eternal calm, and all that face, Or I have dream'd."-" Yes," said the supreme shape, "Thou hast dream'd of me; and awaking up
Didst find a lyre all golden by thy side, Whose strings touch'd by thy fingers, all the vast Unwearied ear of the whole universe Listen'd in pain and pleasure at the birth Of such new tuneful wonder. Is't not strange
That thou shouldst weep, so gifted? Tell me, youth,
What sorrow thou canst feel; for I am sad
When thou dost shed a tear explain thy griefs
To one who in this lonely isle hath been The watcher of thy sleep and hours of life,
From the young day when first thy infant hand
Pluck'd witless the weak flowers, till thine arm
Could bend that bow heroic to all times. Show thy heart's secret to an ancient Power
Who hath forsaken old and sacred thrones
For prophecies of thee, and for the sake Of loveliness new born."-Apollo then, With sudden scrutiny and gloomless eyes, Thus answer'd, while his white melodious throat Throbb'd with the syllables.-" Mnemosyne! Thy name is on my tongue, I know not how;
Why should I tell thee what thou so well seest?