Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side, Again the wild-flower wine she drank: The lofty lady stood upright: And thus the lofty lady spake— Quoth Christabel, So let it be! But through her brain of weal and woe Beneath the lamp the lady bowed, The cincture from beneath her breast: Her silken robe, and inner vest, Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs; And with low voice and doleful look 220 230 240 250 260 With open eyes (ah woe is me!) O sorrow and shame! Can this be she, A star hath set, a star hath risen, 280 290 300 Large tears that leave the lashes bright! And oft the while she seems to smile As infants at a sudden light! Yea, she doth smile, and she doth weep, Like a youthful hermitess, Beauteous in a wilderness, Who, praying always, prays in sleep. 320 330 Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause, Whose pathless march no mortal may control! Ye Ocean Waves! that, whereso'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws! Ye Woods! that listen to the night-bird's singing, Midway the smooth and perilous slope re- A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's clined, Save when your own imperious branches swing ing, Have made a solemn music of the wind! Where, like a man beloved of God, Through glooms, which never woodman trod, 10 How oft, pursuing fancies holy, My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound, Inspired beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound! O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high! And O ye Clouds that far above me soared! Thou rising sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky! Yea, every thing that is and will be free! Bear witness for me, wheresoe 'er ye be, With what deep worship I have still adored The spirit of divinest Liberty. II 21 dream!1 Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, The Sun2 was rising, though ye hid his light!'' And when to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled, The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright; 50 When France her front deep-scarred and lore When France in wrath her giant-limbs up In the low huts of them that toil and groan; reared, And with that oath which smote air, earth and sea, Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free, * Written in 1798; called forth by the French invasion of Switzerland. And, conquering by her happiness alone, 61 Shall France compel the nations to be free, Till Love and Joy look round, and call the earth their own." 1 Alluding to the excesses that attended the French Revolution. 2 Liberty IV Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams! streams! Heroes, that for your peaceful country perished, cherished And ye, that fleeing, spot your mountain snows HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE IN THE VALE Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear; Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, And with inexpiable spirit To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind, And patriot only in pernicious toils! Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind? 80 To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway, Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey; To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray? Alike from all, howe 'er they praise thee, Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer I worshipped the Invisible alone. Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, 21 Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret joy: Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the 31 O struggling with the darkness all the night, The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? Who gave you your invulnerable life, Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn? joy, Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? And who commanded (and the silence came), THE KNIGHT'S TOMB Under the twigs of a young birch tree! Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year, And whistled and roared in the winter alone, Is gone, and the birch in its stead is grown.- His soul is with the saints, I trust. SONG FROM ZAPOLYA, ACT II, SCENE I A sunny shaft did I behold, From sky to earth it slanted: He sunk, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled And thus he sang: Adieu! adieu! Far far away! YOUTH AND AGE* Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying, Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-point- Both were mine! Life went a-maying Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, serene Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast- tears, Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud, With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, 10 When I was young?-Ah, woeful When! 79 Rise like a cloud of incense from the Earth! 1 A mountain in Cumberland. A first rough draft of this poem was called "Area Spontanea," and the whole still reads like a musical improvisation. Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree; O! the joys, that came down shower-like, Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, Ere I was old! Ere I was old? Ah woeful Ere, Which tells me, Youth's no longer here! Dew-drops are the gems of morning, That only serves to make us grieve Yet hath out-stay'd his welcome while, WORK WITHOUT HOPE† So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their For the poor craven bridegroom said never a lair The bees are stirring-birds are on the wing- Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! away! Glide, rich streams, word, And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I That would gladly be bride to the young stroll: Written in 1827; the mournful Ay de mi of a man confronted by age and sickness and looking back over a life of defeated hopes and wasted opportunities. Lochinvar.' 1 Solway Firth, noted for its swift tides. 24 * Compare Katharine Jaffray. p. 79, upon which Scott "in a very slight degree founded" the present ballad. |