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"O King of Glory! thou alone hast power!
Who can resist thy will? who can restrain
Thy wrath, when on the guilty thou dost shower
The shafts of thy revenge, a blistering rain?
Greatest and best, be merciful again!
Have we not stabb'd thine enemies, and made
The Earth an altar, and the Heavens a fane,
Where thou wert worshipp'd with their blood, and
laid

Those hearts in dust which would thy searchless works have weigh'd?

XXIX.

"Well didst thou loosen on this impious City Thine angels of revenge: recall them now; Thy worshippers, abased, here kneel for pity, And bind their souls by an immortal vow: We swear by thee! and to our oath do thou Give sanction, from thine hell of fiends and flame That we will kill with fire and torments slow, The last of those who mock'd thy holy name, And scorn'd the sacred laws thy prophets did proclaim."

XXX.

Thus they with trembling limbs and pallid lips Worshipp'd their own hearts' image, dim and vast, Scared by the shade wherewith they would eclipse The light of other minds ;-troubled they past From the great Temple ;-fiercely still and fast The arrows of the plague among them fell, And they on one another gazed aghast, And through the hosts contention wild befell, As each of his own god the wondrous works did tell.

XXXI.

And Oromaze, Joshua, and Mahomet,

Moses, and Buddh, Zerdusht, and Brahm, and Foh, A tumult of strange names, which never met Before, as watch-words of a single woe, Arose; each raging votary 'gan to throw Aloft his armed hands, and each did howl "Our God alone is God!" and slaughter now Would have gone forth, when from beneath a cowl A voice came forth, which pierced like ice through every soul.

XXXII.

"T was an Iberian Priest from whom it came, A zealous man, who led the legion'd west With words which faith and pride had steep'd in

flame,

To quell the unbelievers; a dire guest Even to his friends was he, for in his breast Did hate and guile lie watchful, intertwined, Twin serpents in one deep and winding nest; He lothed all faith beside his own, and pined To wreak his fear of Heaven in vengeance on mankind.

XXXIII.

But more he lothed and hated the clear light Of wisdom and free thought, and more did fear, Lest, kindled once, its beams might pierce the night, Even where his Idol stood; for, far and near Did many a heart in Europe leap to hear That faith and tyranny were trampled down; Many a pale victim, doom'd for truth to share The murderer's cell, or see, with helpless groan. The priests his children drag for slaves to serve their

own.

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XL.

His voice was like a blast that burst the portal
Of fabled hell; and as he spake, each one
Saw gape beneath the chasms of fire immortal,
And Heaven above seem'd cloven, where, on a
throne

Girt round with storms and shadows, sate alone,
Their King and Judge-fear kill'd in every breast
All natural pity then, a fear unknown
Before, and with an inward fire possest,
They raged like homeless beasts whom burning
woods invest.

XLI.

'Twas morn-at noon the public crier went forth, Proclaiming through the living and the dead, "The Monarch saith, that this great Empire's worth Is set on Laon and Laone's head:

He who but one yet living here can lead,

Or who the life from both their hearts can wring Shall be the kingdom's heir, a glorious meed! But he who both alive can hither bring, The Princess shall espouse, and reign an equal King." XLII.

Ere night the pyre was piled, the net of iron Was spread above, the fearful couch below, It overtopp'd the towers that did environ That spacious square; for Fear is never slow To build the thrones of Hate, her mate and foe, So, she scourged forth the maniac multitude To rear this pyramid-tottering and slow, Plague-stricken, foodless, like lean herds pursued By gad-flies, they have piled the heath, and gums, and wood.

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Men brought their infidel kindred to appease God's wrath, and while they burn'd, knelt round on quivering knees.

XLVI.

The noontide sun was darken'd with that smoke, The winds of eve dispersed those ashes gray, The madness which these rites had lull'd, awoke Again at sunset.-Who shall dare to say

The deeds which night and fear brought forth, or weigh

In balance just the good and evil there? He might man's deep and searchless heart display,| And cast a light on those dim labyrinths, where Hope, near imagined chasms, is struggling with despair.

XLVII.

"Tis said, a mother dragg'd three children then, To those fierce flames which roast the eyes in the head,

And laugh'd and died; and that unholy men, Feasting like fiends upon the infidel dead, Look'd from their meal, and saw an Angel tread The visible floor of Heaven, and it was she! And, on that night, one without doubt or dread Came to the fire, and said, "Stop, I am he! Kill me!" they burn'd them both with hellish mockery.

XLVIII.

And, one by one, that night, young maidens came, Beauteous and calm, like shapes of living stone Clothed in the light of dreams, and by the flame Which shrank as overgorged, they laid them down, And sung a slow sweet song, of which alone One word was heard, and that was Liberty; And that some kiss'd their marble feet, with moan Like love, and died, and then that they did die With happy smiles, which sunk in white tranquillity.

CANTO XI.

I.

SHE saw me not-she heard me not-alone
Upon the mountain's dizzy brink she stood;
She spake not, breathed not, moved not-there

was thrown

Over her look, the shadow of a mood
Which only clothes the heart in solitude,

A thought of voiceless depth;-she stood alone; Above, the Heavens were spread ;-below, the flood Was murmuring in its caves;-the wind had blown Her hair apart, through which her eyes and forehead shone.

II.

A cloud was hanging o'er the western mountains;
Before its blue and moveless depth were flying
Gray mists pour'd forth from the unresting fountains
Of darkness in the North :-the day was dying:-
Sudden, the sun shone forth, its beams were lying
Like boiling gold on Ocean, strange to see,
And on the shatter'd vapors, which defying
The power of light in vain, toss'd restlessly

III.

It was a stream of living beams, whose bank On either side by the cloud's cleft was made; And where its chasms that flood of glory drank, Its waves gush'd forth like fire, and as if sway'd By some mute tempest, roll'd on her; the shade Of her bright image floated on the river Of liquid light, which then did end and fadeHer radiant shape upon its verge did shiver; Aloft, her flowing hair like strings of flame did quiver

IV.

I stood beside her, but she saw me notShe look'd upon the sea, and skies, and earth; Rapture, and love, and admiration wrought A passion deeper far than tears, or mirth, Or speech, or gesture, or whate'er has birth From common joy; which, with the speechless feeling That led her there united, and shot forth From her far eyes, a light of deep revealing, All but her dearest self from my regard concealing.

V.

Her lips were parted, and the measured breath
Was now heard there;-her dark and intricate eyes
Orb within orb, deeper than sleep or death,
Absorb'd the glories of the burning skies,
Which, mingling with her heart's deep ecstasies,
Burst from her looks and gestures ;-and a light
Of liquid tenderness like love, did rise

From her whole frame, an atmosphere which quite Array'd her in its beams, tremulous and soft and bright.

VI.

She would have clasp'd me to her glowing frame; Those warm and odorous lips might soon have shed On mine the fragrance and the invisible flame Which now the cold winds stole;-she would have laid

Upon my languid heart her dearest head;

I might have heard her voice, tender and sweet; Her eyes mingling with mine, might soon have fed My soul with their own joy.-One moment yet I gazed-we parted then, never again to meet!

VII.

Never but once to meet on Earth again! She heard me as I fled-her eager tone Sunk on my heart, and almost wove a chain Around my will to link it with her own, So that my stern resolve was almost gone. "I cannot reach thee! whither dost thou fly? My steps are faint-Come back, thou dearest oneReturn, ah me! return"-the wind past by On which those accents died, faint, far, and lingeringly.

VIII.

Woe! woe! that moonless midnight-Want and Pest
Were horrible, but one more fell doth rear,
As in a hydra's swarming lair, its crest
Eminent among those victims-even the Fear
Of Hell: each girt by the hot atmosphere
Of his blind agony, like a scorpion stung
By his own rage upon his burning bier
Of circling coals of fire; but still there clung

In the red Heaven, like wrecks in a tempestuous sea. One hope, like a keen sword on starting threads uphung:

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"Ye turn to Heaven for aid in your distress;
Alas, that ye, though mighty and the wise,
Who, if ye dared, might not aspire to less
Than ye conceive of power, should fear the lies
Which thou, and thou, didst frame for mysteries
To blind your slaves:-consider your own thought,
An empty and a cruel sacrifice

Ye now prepare, for a vain idol wrought

Which none can gather yet, the distant crowd has Out of the fears and hate which vain desires have

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XXI.

"It doth avail not that I weep for ye

Ye cannot change, since ye are old and gray,
And ye have chosen your lot-your fame must be
A book of blood, whence in a milder day
Men shall learn truth, when ye are wrapt in clay:
Now ye shall triumph. I am Laon's friend,
And him to your revenge will I betray,
So you concede one easy boon. Attend!

For now I speak of things which ye can apprehend.

XXII.

"There is a People mighty in its youth,

A land beyond the Oceans of the West,
Where, though with rudest rites, Freedom and Truth
Are worshipp'd; from a glorious mother's breast,
Who, since high Athens fell, among the rest
Sate like the Queen of Nations, but in woe,
By inbred monsters outraged and oppress'd,
Turns to her chainless child for succor now,

It draws the milk of Power in Wisdom's fullest flow.

XXIII.

"That land is like an Eagle, whose young gaze
Feeds on the noontide beam, whose golden plume
Floats moveless on the storm, and in the blaze
Of sunrise gleams when Earth is wrapt in gloom;
An epitaph of glory for the tomb

Of murder'd Europe may thy fame be made, Great People: as the sands shalt thou become ; Thy growth is swift as morn, when night must fade; The multitudinous Earth shall sleep beneath thy shade.

XXIV.

"Yes, in the desert there is built a home

For Freedom. Genius is made strong to rear The monuments of man beneath the dome Of a new Heaven, myriads assemble there, Whom the proud lords of man, in rage or fear, Drive from their wasted homes: the boon I pray Is this, that Cythna shall be convoy'd thereNay, start not at the name-America! And then to you this night Laon will I betray.

XXV.

"With me do what ye will. I am your foe!"
The light of such a joy as makes the stare
Of hungry snakes like living emeralds glow,
Shone in a hundred human eyes-" Where, where
Is Laon? haste! fly! drag him swiftly here!
We grant thy boon."-"I put no trust in ye:
Swear by the Power ye dread."-"We swear, we
swear!"

The Stranger threw his vest back suddenly,
And smiled in gentle pride, and said, "Lo! I am he!"

CANTO XII.

I.

THE transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness Spread through the multitudinous streets, fast flying Upon the wings of fear; from his dull madness The starveling waked, and died in joy; the dying, Among the corpses in stark agony lying, Just heard the happy tidings, and in hope Closed their faint eyes; from house to house replying With loud acclaim, the living shook Heaven's cope And fill'd the startled Earth with echoes: morn did ope

II.

Its pale eyes then; and lo! the long array Of guards in golden arms, and priests beside, Singing their bloody hymns, whose garbs betray The blackness of the faith it seems to hide; And see, the tyrant's gem-wrought chariot glide Among the gloomy cowls and glittering spearsA shape of light is sitting by his side, A child most beautiful. I' the midst appears Laon,-exempt alone from mortal hopes and fears.

III.

His head and feet are bare, his hands are bound Behind with heavy chains, yet none do wreak Their scoffs on him, though myriads throng around; There are no sneers upon his lip, which speak That scorn or hate hath made him bold; his cheek Resolve has not turn'd pale,-his eyes are mild And calm, and like the morn about to break, Smile on mankind-his heart seems reconciled To all things and itself, like a reposing child

IV.

Tumult was in the soul of all beside,
Ill joy, or doubt, or fear; but those who saw
Their tranquil victim pass, felt wonder glide
Into their brain, and became calm with awe.
See, the slow pageant near the pile doth draw.
A thousand torches in the spacious square,
Borne by the ready slaves of ruthless law,
Await the signal round: the morning fair

Is changed to a dim night by that unnatural glare.

V.

And see! beneath a sun-bright canopy, Upon a platform level with the pile, The anxious Tyrant sit, enthroned on high, Girt by the chieftains of the host; all smile In expectation, but one child: the while I, Laon, led by mutes, ascend my bier of fire, and look around; each distant isle Is dark in the bright dawn; towers far and near Pierce like reposing flames the tremulous atmosphere

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