« 上一頁繼續 »
And there hath been thy bane; there is a fire One moment of the mightiest, and again
And motion of the soul which will not dwell On little objects with like firmness fixt,
In its own narrow being, but aspire
Of aught but rest; a fever at the core,
This makes the madmen who have made men msd Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou ! She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name
By their contagion ; Conquerors and Kings, Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now
Founders of sects and systems, to whoin add That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame,
Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things Who woo'd thee once, thy vassal, and became
Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springe The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert
And are themselves the fools to those they fool; A god unto thyself; nor less the same
Envied, yet how unenviable! what stings To the astounded kingdoms all inert,
Are theirs! One breast laid open were a school Who deem'd thee for a time whate'er thou didst Which would unteach mankind the lust to spine o
Their breath is agitation, and their life
A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last,
And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now
That should their days, surviving perils past, More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield;
Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild,
With sorrow aud supineness, and so die; But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor,
Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste However deeply in men's spirits skill'd, Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war,
With its own flickering, or a sword laid by, Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously. star.
He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tide,
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow With that untaught innate philosophy,
He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride,
Must look down on the hate of those below. Is gall and wormwood :o an enemy.
Though high above the sun of glory glow, When the whole host of hatred stood hard by,
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow With a sedate and all-enduring eye; (smiled When Fortune fled her spoil'd and favorite child, and thus reward the toils which to those summar
Contending tempests on his naked head, He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him piled.
Away with these! true Wisdom's world will be Sager than in thy fortunes; for in them
Within its own creation, or in thine, Ambition steel'd thee on too far to show
Maternal Nature! for who teems like thee, That just habitual scorn which could contemn Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine? Men and their thoughts; 'twas wise to feel, not so There Haroid yazes on a work divine, To wear it ever on thy lip and brow,
A blending of all beauties; streams and delle, And spurn the instruments thou wert to use, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountail Till they were turn'd unto thine overthrow:
vine, "Tis but a worthless world to win or lose;
And chiefless castles breathing stern farea ells So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin green choose.
XLVII. If, like a tower upon a headlong rock,
And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind. Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone, Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, Such scorn of man had help'd to brave the shock; All tenantless, save to the crannying wind. But men's thoughts were the steps which pared thy Or holding dark communion with the cloud Their admiration thy best weapon shone; (throne. There was a day when they were young
prou The part of Philip's son was thine, not then Banners on high, and battles pass'd below; (Unless aside thy purple had been thrown) But they who fought are in a blocdy shroud, Like stern Diogenes to mock at men;
And those which waved are shredless dust ere not For sceptied cynics earth were far too wide a den !' And the bleak battlements shall boar no future bloy
LIV. deneath these battlements, within those walls, And he had learned to love,-I know not why, Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud state For this in such as him seems strange of mood.Each robber chief upheld his armed halls,
The helpless looks of blooming infaecy, Doing his evil will, nor less elate
Even in its earliest nurture; what subdued, Thun mightier heroes of a longer date. [have? To change like this, a mind so far imbued What want these outlaws 10 conquerors should With scorn of man, it little boots to know; But History's purchased page to call them great? But thus it was; and though in solitude A mider space, an ornamented grave?
Small power the nipp'd affections have to grow, Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full In him this glow'd when all beside had ceased to as brave.
And there was one soft breast, as hath been said, In their baronial feuds and single fields,
Which unto his was bound by stronger ties What deeds of prowess unrecorded died !
Than the church links withal; and, though upwed And love, which lent a blazon to their shields,
That love was pure, and, far above disguse, With emblems well devised by amorous pride,
Had stood the test of mortal enmities Chrough all the mail of iron hearts would glide;
Stili undivided, and cemented more But still their fame was fierceness, and drew on
By peril, dreaded most in female eyes; Reca contest and destruction near allied,
But this was firm, and from a foreign shore And many a tower for some fair mischief won,
Well to that heart might his these absent greeting Maw the discolor'd Rhine beneath its ruin run.
The castled crag of Drachenfels 11 Bus Thou, exulting and unbounding river !
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine. Making thy waves a blessing as they flow
Whose breast of waters broadly swells Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever
Between the banks which bear the vine. Could man but leave thy bright creation so,
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, Nor its fair promise from the surface mow
And fields which promise corn and wine, With the sharp scythe of conflict,—then to see
And scatter'd cities crowning these, Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know
Whose far white walls along them shine, Earth pared like Heaven; and to seem such to me,
Have strew'd a scene which I should see
With double joy wert thou with me.
And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes A thousand battles have asgail'd thy banks,
And hands which offer early flowers, But these and half their fame have pass d away,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise; And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks;
Above, the frequent feudal towers Their very grures are gone, and what are they Through green leaves lift their walls of gray, Thy tide wasn'd down the blood of yesterday,
And many a rock which steeply lowers, And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream
And noble arch in proud decay, Glasu'd with its dancing light the sunny ray;
Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers; Bat o'er the blackend memory's blighting dream But one thing want these banks of Rhine,-. l'hy waves would rainly roll, all sweeping as they
Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!
I send the lilies given to me; Thus Harold inly said, and pass'd along,
Though long before thy hand they tours Yet not insensibly to all which here
I know that they must wither'd be,
But yet reject them not as such ;
When thou behold'st them drooping nigh, Joy was not always absent from his face,
And know'st them gather'd by the Rhine, Bar c'er it in such scenes would steal with transient And offer'd from my heart to thine! trace.
The river nobly foams and flows,
Some fresher beauty varying round:
The haughtiest breast its wish might bound
In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, Could thy dear eyes in following mine
LXII. By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,
But these recede. Above me are the Alps, There is a small and simple pyramid,
The palaces of Na:ure, whose vast walls Crowning the summit of the verdant mound; Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalpa, Benrath its base are heroes' ashes hid,
And throned Eternity in icy halls Our enemy's—but let not that forbid
Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls Honor to Marceau! o'er whose early tomb The avalanche-the thunderbolt of snow! Tears, big tears, gush'd from the rough soldier's lid., All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Lamenting and yet envying such a doom,
Gather around these summits, as to show Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume. How earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vwa
man below. LVII.
LXIII. Brief, brave, and glorious was his young career, But ere these matchless heights I dare to scan, His mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes; There is a spot should not be pass'd in vain,-. And fitly may the stranger lingering here
Morat! the proud, the patriot field! where man Pray for his gallant spirit's bright repose;
May gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain, For he was freedom's champion, one of those, Nor blush for those who conquer'd on that plain, The few in number, who had not o'erstept
Here Burgundy bequeath'd his tombless host, The charter to chastise which she bestows
A bony heap, through ages to remain, On such as wield her weapons; he had kept Themselves their monument; the Stygian coast The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er limUnsepulchred they roam'd, and shriek'd eack wept.12
While Waterloo with Canna's carnage vies,
Of vice-entail'd Corruption ; they no land On which the iron shower for years had pour'd in
Doom'd to bewail the blasphemy of laws vain.
Making kings' rights divine, by some Draconie LIX.
By a lone wall a lonelier column reare
A gray and grief-worn aspect of old days ; Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray;
'Tis the last remnant of the wreck of years, And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey
And looks as with the wild-bewilder'd gaze On self-condemning bosoms, it were here,
Of one to stone converted by amaze, Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay,
Yet still with consciousness; and there it stands Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere,
Making a marvel that it not decays, Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year.
When the coeval pride of human hands,
Levellid 16 Aventicum, hath strew'd her subject LX.
And there-oh! sweet and sacred be the name!The mind is color'd by thy every hue;
Julia—the daughter, the devoted-gave And if reluctantly the eyes resign
Her youth to Heaven; her heart, beneath a claim Their cherish'd gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!
Nearest to Heaven's, broke o'er a father's grare, 'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise ;
Justice is sworn 'gainst tears, and hers would crave More mighty spots may rise-more glaring shine,
The life she lived in, but the judge was just, But none unite in one attaching maze
And then she died on him she could not save, l'h, brilliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days. Their tomb was simple, and without a bust,
And held within their urn one mind, one heart, one LXI.
LXVII. The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen, But these are deeds which should not pass away, The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom,
And names that must not wither, though the earth The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between, Forgets her empires with a just decay, [birth The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been, The enslavers and the enslaved, their death and In mockery of man's art; and these withal The high, the mountain-majesty of worth A race of faces happy as the scene,
Should be, and shall, survivor of its wo. Whose fertile bounties here extend to all,
And from its immortality look forth Still springing o'er thy banks, though Empires near In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow," Sem fall.
Imperishably pure beyond all things below.
Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be
Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm? Thoughts hic, but not less cherish'd than of old, The bodiless thought ? the Spirit of each spot! Ere iningling with the herd had penn'd me in their of which, even now, I share at time, the immorta fold
LXXV. To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind : Are not the mountains, waves, and skics, a part All are not fit with them to stir and toil,
Of me and of my soul, as I of them? Nor is it discontent to keep the mind
Is not the love of these deep in my heart Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil
With a pure passion ? should I not contenın In the hot throng, where we become the spoil All objects, if compared with these? and stem Of our infection, till too late and long
A tide of suffering, rather than forego We may deplore and struggle with the coil, Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm In wretched interchange of wrong for wrong Of those whose eyes are only turn'd below, Midst a coutentious world, striving where none are Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dasa strong.
To that which is immediate, and require
A native of the land where I respire
-Was to be glorious; 'twas a foolish quest,
LXXVII. Is it not better, then, to be alone,
Here the self-torturing sophist, wiid Rousseau. And love Earth only for its earthly sake?
The apostle of affliction, he who threw By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone,s Enchantment over passion, and from wo Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake,
Wrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew Which feeds it as a mother who doth make The breath which made him wretched; yet he knew A fair but froward infant her own care,
How to make madness beautiful, and cast Kissing its cries away as these awake;
O'er erring deeds and thoughts a heavenly hue Is it not better thus our lives to wear,
Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they pası Thuo join the crushing crowd, doom'd to inflict or The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly and bear?
LXXVIII. I live not in myself, but I become
His love was passior.'s essence
as a tree Portion of that around mu: and to me
On fire by lightning; with ethereal flame
Thus, and enamor'd, were in him the same
But his was not the love of living dame, A link reluctant in a fleshy chain,
Nor of the dead who rise upon our dreams, Caxs'd among creatures, when the soul can flee, But of ideal beauty, which became And with the sky, the peak, the hearing plain In him existence, and o'erflowing teems X scean, or the stars, mingle, and not in vain. Along his burning page, distemper'd thoug! it seems LXXIII.
LXXIX. And thus I am absorb'd, and this is life;
This breathed itself to life in Julie, this I look upon the peopled desert past,
Invested her with all that's wild and sweet As on a place of agony and strife,
This hallow'd, too, the memorable kiss Where, for some sin, to Sorrow I was cast, Which every morn his fever'd lip would gree. To act and suffer, but reinount at last
From hers, who but with friendship his would metu. With a fresh pinion; which I feel to spring, But to that gentle touch, through brain and breast Though young, yet waxing vigorous, as the blast Flash'd the thrill'd spirit's love-devouring heat; Wich it would cope with, on delighted wing, In that absorbing sigh perrhance more blest, patsir g the clay-cold bonds which round our being Than vulgar minds may be with all they seed eling
LXXXVI. His life was one long war with self-sought foes, It is the bush of night, and all betweer. Or friends by him self-banished; for his mind Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet cies Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose Mellow'd and mingling, yet distinctly seen, Por its own cruel sacrifice, the kind
Save darken d Jura, whose capt heights appear 'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind. Precipitously sleep; and drawing near, But he was frensied, -wherefore, who may know? There breathes a living fragrance from the shora Since cause might be which skill could never find; of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear But he was frensied by disease or wo,
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, so that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol moon show. LXXXI.
LXXXVII. For then he was inspired, and from him came,
He is an evening reveller, who makes As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore, His life an infancy, and sings his fill; Those oracles which set the world in flame,
At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more: Starts into a voice a moment, then is still. Did he not this for France ? which lay before
There seems a floating whisper on the hill, Bow'd to the inborn tyranny of years ?
But that is fancy, for the starlight dews Broken and trembling to the yoke she bore,
All silently their tears of love instil, Till by the voice of him and his compeers
Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Roused up to too much wrath, which follows Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues o'ergrown fears?
Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven!
If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Breathed from the birth of time; the veil they
Of men and empires,-'tis to be forgiven, And what behind it lay all earth shall view. (rent,
That in our aspirations to be great, But good with ill they also overthrow,
Our destinies o'erieap their mortal state,
And claim a kindred with you; for ye are
A bauty and a mystery, and create
In is such love and reverence from afar, As heretofore, because ambition was self-will’d.
That fortune, fame, power, life, hath named them
selves a star. LXXXIII.
LXXXIX. But this will nor endure, nor be endured! (felt.
All heaven and earth are still-though not in sleep Mankind have felt their strength, and made it
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; They might have used it better, but allured
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep :By their new vigor, sternly have they dealt
All heaven and earth are still : From the high he ? On one another : pity ceased to melt
Of stars, to the lull’d lake and mountain-coast. With her once natural charities. But they,
All is concenter'd in a life intense,
Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being, and a sense
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt
In solitude, where we are least alone; With their own hopes, and have been vanquish'd,
A truth, which through our being then doth mely Silence, but not submission : in his lair
And purifies froin self: it is a tone Fix'd passion holds his breath, until the hour
The soul and source of music, which makes knowo Which shall atone for years; none need despair :
Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm, It came, it cometh, and will come,—the power
Like to the fabled Cytherea's zone, To punish or forgive-in one we shall be slower Binding all things with beauty ;-'twould disarm
The spectre Death, had he substantial power to harm
Not vainly did the early Persian make
Of earth-o'ergazing mountains, 20 and thus tak. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
A fit, and unwallid temple, there to seek To waft me from distraction ; once I loved
The Spirič, in whose honor shrines are weak, Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Uprear'd of human hands. Come, and compare
Sounds sweet as if a sister's roice reproved, Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air mcved
Nor fix on food chodes to circumscribe thy prag's