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THE INDIAN SERENADE Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers,

Lightning my pilot sits; I arise from dreams of thee

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,In the first sweet sleep of night,

It struggles and howls at fits; 20 When the winds are breathing low, Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, And the stars are shining bright:

This pilot is guiding me, I arise from dreams of thee,


Lured by the love of the genii that move And a spirit in my feet

In the depths of the purple sea; Hath led me who knows how?

Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills; To thy chamber window, Sweet!

Over the lakes and the plains, 26

Wherever he dream, under mountain or The wandering airs they faint

stream, On the dark, the silent stream

The Spirit he loves remains; The Champak odors fail

And I all the while bask in heaven's Like sweet thoughts in a dream;

blue smile, The nightingale's complaint,

Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 30 It dies upon her heart;As I must on thine,


The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, Oh! beloved as thou art!

And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, Oh lift me from the grass!

When the morning star shines dead, I die! I faint! I fail!

As on the jag of a mountain crag, 35 Let thy love in kisses rain

Which an earthquake rocks and On my lips and eyelids pale.

swings, My cheek is cold and white, alas! An eagle alit one moment may sit My heart beats loud and fast;

In the light of its golden wings. Oh! press it to thine own again, And when sunset may breathe, from the Where it will break at last.

lit sea beneath,

It ardors of rest and of love, 40 And the crimson pall of eve may fall

From the depth of heaven above, THE CLOUD

With wings folded I rest, on mine airy

nest, I bring fresh showers for the thirsting As still as a brooding dove.


From the seas and the streams; That orbed maiden with white fire laden, I bear light shade for the leaves when laid Whom mortals call the moon, 46 In their noon-day dreams.

Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like From my wings are shaken the dews that

floor, 5

By the midnight breezes strewn; The sweet buds every one,

And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, When rocked to rest on their mother's Which only the angels hear, 50 breast,

May have broken the woof of my tent's As she dances about the sun.

thin roof, I wield the flail of the lashing hail,

The stars peep behind her and peer; And whiten the green plains under, And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, And then again I dissolve it in rain,

Like a swarm of golden bees,
And laugh as I pass in thunder. When I widen the rent in my wind-built


55 I sift the snow on the mountains below,

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, And their great pines groan aghast; Like strips of the sky fallen through me on And all the night 'tis my pillow white, 15

high, While I sleep in the arms of the Are each paved with the moon and blast.





my chair,


I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, In the golden lightning
And the moon's with a girdle of

Of the sunken sun,


O'er which clouds are bright'ning, The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel

Thou dost float and run; and swim,

Like an unbodied joy whose race is just When the whirlwinds my banner


15 unfurl. From cape to cape, with a bridge-like The pale purple even shape,

Melts around thy flight;
Over a torrent sea,

Like a star of heaven
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof, 65

In the broad day-light
The mountains its columns be. Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill
The triumphal arch through which I

With hurricane, fire, and snow,

Keen as are the arrows
When the powers of the air are chained to

Of that silver sphere,

Whose intense lamp narrows
Is the million-colored bow;

In the white dawn clear, 24 The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.

While the moist earth was laughing

All the earth and air

With thy voice is loud,
I am the daughter of earth and water,

As, when night is bare,
And the nursling of the sky;

From one lonely cloud I pass through the pores of the ocean and The moon rains out her beams, and heaven shores;


is overflowed. I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a

What thou art we know not;

What is most like thee?
The pavilion of heaven is bare,

From rainbow clouds there flow not And the winds and sunbeams with their

Drops so bright to see convex gleams

As from thy presence showers a rain of Build up the blue dome of air, 80


35 I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a poet hidden Like a child from the womb, like a ghost

In the light of thought,
from the tomb,

Singing hymns unbidden,
I arise and unbuild it again.

Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it
heeded not:


Like a high-born maiden
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!

In a palace tower,
Bird thou never wert,

Soothing her love-laden
That from heaven, or near it,

Soul in secret hour
Pourest thy full heart

With music sweet as love, which overIn profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 5

flows her bower:



Higher still and higher

Like a glow-worm golden
From the earth thou springest

In a dell of dew,
Like a cloud of fire;

Scattering unbeholden
The blue deep thou wingest,

Its aërial hue And singing still dost soar, and soaring Among the flowers and grass which screen ever singest.

it from the view:




Like a rose embowered

Yet if we could scorn
In its own green leaves,

Hate, and pride, and fear;
By warm winds deflowered,

If we were things born
Till the scent it gives

Not to shed a tear, Makes faint with too much sweet these I know not how thy joy we ever should heavy-winged thieves.

come near.

95 Sound of vernal showers

Better than all measures
On the twinkling grass,

Of delightful sound,
Rain-awakened flowers,

Better than all treasures
All that ever was

That in books are found, Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the doth surpass.


Teach us, sprite or bird,

Teach me half the gladness
What sweet thoughts are thine;

That thy brain must know,
I have never heard

Such harmonious madness
Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so

From my lips would flow,

The world should listen then, as I am lisdivine:

tening now.

105 Chorus Hymenæal,

Or triumphal chant,
Matched with thine would be all

But an empty vaunt,
A thing wherein we feel there is some hid- Music, when soft voices die,
den want.

70 Vibrates in the

memoryWhat objects are the fountains

Odors, when sweet violets sicken,

Live within the sense they quicken.
Of thy happy strain?
Rose-leaves, when the rose is dead,

5 What fields, or waves, or moun

Are heaped for the belovèd's bed; tains?

And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ig- Love itself shall slumber on. norance of pain?

With thy clear keen joyance

Languor cannot be:
Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee:

Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad

The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
Waking or asleep,

The waves are dancing fast and
Thou of death must deem

bright, Things more true and deep

Blue isles and snowy mountains wear Than we mortals dream,

The purple noon's transparent might; Or how could thy notes flow in such a

The breath of the moist earth is light, 5 crystal stream?

Around its unexpanded buds; 85

Like many a voice of one delight,
We look before and after,

The winds, the birds, the ocean floods,
And pine for what is not: The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;

I see the Deep's untrampled floor Our sweetest songs are those that tell of With green and purple seaweeds saddest thought.






Tell me, Moon, thou pale and gray
Pilgrim of Heaven's homeless way,
In what depth of night or day

Seekest thou repose now?

I see the waves upon the shore,
Like light dissolved in star-showers,

I sit upon the sands alone;
The lightning of the noon-tide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone
Arises from its measured motion,
How sweet! did any heart now share in

my emotion.


Weary Wind, who wanderest
Like the world's rejected guest,
Hast thou still some secret nest

On the tree or billow?



Alas! I have nor hope nor health,

Nor peace within nor calm around, 20
Nor that content surpassing wealth

Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years,
The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory

Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep crowned

Are brackish with the salt of human tears! Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor

Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb leisure.

and flow Others I see whom these surround—25

Claspest the limits of mortality, 5 Smiling they live, and call life pleas

And sick of prey, yet howling on for ure;

more, To me that cup has been dealt in another

Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable measure.


Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are;

Who shall put forth on thee,

Unfathomable Sea? I could lie down like a tired child,

30 And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must

Till death like sleep might steal on me, Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,
And I might feel in the warm air

Spirit of Night!
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Out of the misty eastern cave,
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last where all the long and lone daylight

Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, 5

Which make thee terrible and dear,Some might lament that I were cold,

Swift be thy flight!
As I, when this sweet day is gone,
Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Insults with this untimely moan;

Star in-wrought!
They might lament-for I am one Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day:
Whom men love not, and yet regret, Kiss her until she be wearied out;

Unlike this day, which, when the sun Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Shall on its stainless glory set,

Touching all with thine opiate wandWill linger, though enjoyed, like joy in

Come, long sought!
memory yet.

When I arose and saw the dawn,


I sighed for thee; THE WORLD'S WANDERERS When light rode high, and the dew was

gone, Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, Speed thee in thy fiery flight,

And the weary Day turned to his rest, In what cavern of the night

Lingering like an unloved guest,
Will thy pinions close now?

I sighed for thee.





Thy brother Death came, and cried,

Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noon-tide bee,

25 Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me?-And I replied,

No, not thee!

Ere the cloud piled on Atlas can dwindle

We encircle the earth and the moon: 10

We shall rest from long labors at noon: Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean. On the brink of the night and the morning

My coursers are wont to respire; But the earth has just whispered a warning

15 That their flight must be swifter than

fire: They shall drink the hot speed of de



Death will come when thou art dead,

Soon, too soonSleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved NightSwift be thine approaching flight,

Come soon, soon!


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From Act II, SCENE V Voice in the Air, singing: Life of Life! thy

lips enkindle With their love the breath between

them; And thy smiles before they dwindle

Make the cold air fire; then screen them In those looks, where whoso gazes 5 Faints, entangled in their mazes. Child of Light! thy limbs are burning Through the vest which seems to hide

them; As the radiant lines of morning Through the clouds ere they divide

And this atmosphere divinest
Shrouds thee whereso'er thou shinest.
Fair are others; none beholds thee,

But thy voice sounds low and tender Like the fairest, for it folds thee 15

From the sight, that liquid splendor,
And all feel, yet see thee never,
As I feel now, lost for ever!
Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest

Its dim shapes are clad with brightness, And the souls of whom thou lovest

Walk upon the winds with lightness,
Till they fail, as I am failing,
Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!


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From Act II, SCENES IV AND V Spirit of the Hour: My coursers are fed

with the lightning, They drink of the whirlwind's stream, And when the red morning is bright’ning

They bathe in the fresh sunbeam; They have strength for their swiftness I deem,

5 Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean.

From Act IV


I desire: and their speed makes night

kindle; I fear: they outstrip the Typhoon;

Here, oh, here

We bear the bier
Of the Father of many a cancelled year!

Spectres we
Of the dead Hours be,

5 We bear Time to his tomb in eternity.

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