Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice From ancient darkness call'd the morn; And hush'd of jarring elements the noise; When Chaos, from his old dominion torn,
With all his bellowing throng, Far, far was hurl'd the void abyss along; And all the bright angelic choir Striking through all their ranks th’ eternal lyre,
Pour'd in loud symphony th’ impetuous strain; And every fiery orb and planet sung, And wide, through night's dark solitary reign Rebounding long and deep the lays triumphant rung.
Oh whither art thou fled, Saturnian age! Roll round again, majestic years! To break the sceptre of tyrannic rage, From Woe's wan cheek to wipe the bitter tears,
Ye years, again roll round! Hark, from afar what desolating sound, While echoes load the sighing gales, With dire presage the throbbing heart assails!
Murder deep-rous'd, with all the whirlwind's haste And roar of tempest, from her cavern springs, Her tangled serpents girds around her waist, Smiles ghastly-fierce, and shakes her gore-distilling wings.
The shouts redoubling rise In thunder to the skies. The Nymphs disorder'd dart along, Sweet Powers of solitude and song,
Stunn'd with the horrors of discordant sound; And all is listening trembling round. Torrents far heard amid the waste of night That oft have led the wanderer right,
Are silent at the noise. The mighty ocean's more majestic voice Drown'd in superior din is heard no more; The surge in silence seems to sweep the foamy shore.
The bloody banner streaming in the air Seen on yon sky-mix'd mountain's brow, The mingling multitudes, the madding car, Driven in confusion to the plain below,
War's dreadful lord proclaim. Bursts out by frequent fits th’ expansive flame. Snatch'd in tempestuous eddies flies The surging smoke o'er all the darken'd skies.
The cheerful face of heaven no more is seen, The bloom of morning fades to deadly pale, The bat flits transient o'er the dusky green, And night's foul birds along the sullen twilight sail.
Involv'd in fire-streak'd gloom the car comes on. The rushing steeds grim Terror guides. His forehead writh'd to a relentless frown, Aloft the angry Power of battles rides:
Grasp'd in his mighty hand A mace tremendous desolates the land; The tower rolls headlong down the steep, The mountain shrinks before its wasteful sweep:
Chill horror the dissolving limbs invades; Smit by the blasting lightning of his eyes, A deeper gloom invests the howling shades, Stript is the shatter'd grove, and every verdure dies.
How startled Frenzy stares, Bristling her ragged hairs! Revenge the gory fragment gnaws; See, with her griping vulture claws
Imprinted deep, she rends the mangled wound! Hate whirls her torch sulphureous round; The shrieks of agony, and clang of arms, Reecho to the hoarse alarms
Her trump terrific blows. Disparting from behind, the clouds disclose Of kingly gesture a gigantic form, That with his scourge sublime rules the careering storm.
Ambition, outside fair! within as foul As fiends of fiercest heart below, Who ride the hurricanes of fire that roll Their thundering vortex o'er the realms of woe.
Yon naked waste survey; Where late was heard the flute's mellifluous lay; Where late the rosy-bosom'd hours In loose array danc'd lightly o'er the flowers;
Where late the shepherd told his tender tale; And waken'd by the murmuring breeze of morn, The voice of cheerful Labour fill'd the dale; And dove-eyed Plenty smil'd, and wav'd her liberal horn.
Yon ruins, sable from the wasting flame, But mark the once resplendent dome; The frequent corse obstructs the sullen stream, And ghosts glare horrid from the sylvan gloom.
How sadly silent all! Save where, outstretch'd beneath yon hanging wall, Pale Famine moans with feeble breath, And Anguish yells, and grinds his bloody teeth —
Though vain the Muse, and every melting lay, To touch thy heart, unconscious of remorse! Know, monster, know, thy hour is on the way, I see, I see the years begin their mighty course.
What scenes of glory rise Before my dazzled eyes! Young Zephyrs wave their wanton wings, And melody celestial rings:
All blooming on the lawn the nymphs advance, And touch the lute, and range the dance; And the blithe shepherds on the mountain's-side, Array'd in all their rural pride,
Exalt the festive note, Inviting Echo from her inmost grot — But ah! the landscape glows with fainter light, It darkens, swims, and flies for ever from my sight.
Illusions vain! Can sacred Peace reside Where sordid gold the breast alarms, Where Cruelty inflames the eye of Pride, And Grandeur wantons in soft Pleasure's arms?
Ambition! these are thine: These from the soul erase the form divine; And quench the animating fire, That warms the bosom with sublime desire.
Thence the relentless heart forgets to feel, And Hatred triumphs on th’ o'erwhelming brow, And midnight Rancour grasps the cruel steel, Blaze the blue flames of death, and sound the shrieks of Woe.
From Albion fled, thy once belov'd retreat, What region brightens in thy smile, Creative Peace, and underneath thy feet Sees sudden flowers adorn the rugged soil?
In bleak Siberia blows, Waked by thy genial breath, the balmy rose? Wav'd over by thy magic wand Does life inform fell Lybia's burning sand?
Or does some isle thy parting flight detain, Where roves the Indian through primeval shades, Haunts the pure pleasures of the sylvan reign, And led by reason's light the path of nature treads.
On Cuba's utmost steep Far leaning o'er the deep The Goddess’ pensive form was seen. Her robe of Nature's varied green
Wav'd on the gale; grief dimm'd her radiant eyes, Her bosom heav'd with boding sighs: She ey'd the main; where, gaining on the view, Emerging from th’ ethereal blue,
Midst the dread pomp of war, Blaz'd the Iberian streamer from afar. She saw; and, on refulgent pinions borne, Slow wing'd her way sublime, and mingled with the morn.
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