Methought I was the sovereign lord
Of some new world above,
Far in the starry sphere; and this
My destin'd bride and love.

PART III.

Little wot I how days sped on :
If perfect bliss there be,

That bliss was mine; it did enshrine
My soul, yet leave it free,

Bound up in thoughts of gentlest love

And gentlest courtesie.

Ever that fairest Queen and I

Our sweet communion held
In converse oft, as purest thought
Its eloquence impell'd,
And oft in looks more eloquent

When converse was withheld.
There was a magic in her speech,

A magic in her look,

A magic in her silent thought

Of more than speech partook

O, would her speaking looks and words
Were writ in golden book!

Why should I try, with erring pen
Or pencil, e'er to paint
Her beauteous self-when fancy fails
In colours, weak and faint?
Earth never knew one half so fair,
Nor heaven a fairer saint.

PART IV.

That palace deep within the rock-
It was a wondrous thing-
The chambers were so infinite,
And past imagining.

No windows were, but lamps that did
Mysterious lustre fling

But the visions reign within my brain,
And ne'er will be dispell'd.
One day, within a garden screen'd,
We sat, where on the ground
Dropp'd golden fruit, and fountains play'd
Their music round and round-
Blended above with vows of love

That melted in the sound.

"Ah, me!" quoth she, "that mortal ear Must learn the coming ill,

To mar the present happiness,
As mar perchance it will!
We are not free from destiny;
That we must aye fulfil.
"My destiny of life, and power,

And love, must rest on one

Of mortal men, whose chasten'd soul
In Virtue's course shall run,
Nor e'er obey wild passion's sway,

Nor dangers ever shun.

O would thyself that mortal were-
That now the meed were won!
"Both far and near my pages speed,

And whomsoe'er they find,

By signs themselves alone do know,
Of pure and duteous mind,
"They hither bring; and many a knight,
The bravest and the best,

Have here their days of trial pass'd,
Yet none have borne the test.
But evil will hath work'd its ill,
The blot within the breast.

"If, for the destined space of time,
No evil thought be thine,
Nor thou to anger, envy, pride,

Nor wayward will incline,
But keep thy heart most faithfully
On duty's even line;

Where silver birds did sing.

Gardens there were, with stately trees,

Such as were never seen;
Whose rustling boughs a music made
In presence of their Queen.
Rivers that flow'd with pearl and gold,
And banks of precious green.
There oft we sat by fountain's side
That silver jets up threw,

And tinged the leaves of the golden trees
All with a glistening hue;
And fruits around hung to the ground,
That diamonds were to view.
Here rubies were and emeralds green,

Here pearl and topaz bright,

And bending stems were rich with gems,
And all cast forth a light,

And overspread, like stars, o'erhead,
That gild the blue of night.

VOL. XXXV. NO. CCXXI.

Thy fancy truly guide

Even to the end, (it draweth nigh,)
Behold-dominion wide

Is thine, an undecaying life,

And I thy Queen, thy bride.

"If great the fault, thou must it rue
For aye, in iron chain;

If slight, thou must from hence be cast,
To perils new, and pain;
How hard to bear! But virtue rare

Thy courage may sustain ;

And, oh! be faithful love thy guide,
Till thou the guerdon gain."

PART V.

Her words sank to my inmost soul:

I would have made reply

2 X

But a serpent roll'd round the fruit of gold,

And hissing pass'd me by:

And chilling the light of the garden bright,

A shadow cross'd mine eye.

I looked down, I looked up,
A hoary sage there stood,

I could not sleep, but rose and paced
The pavement to and fro,
Nor there remained,-I seized the lamp,
And sought the stair below;
Stair after stair, deep down, but where
I sped, I did not know.

I reach'd a cavern ; vast it was

As from cathedral floor

Nor boded his aspect good.

I knew him well, and many a time
Had mark'd how strange his mood.

It was old Himri, a crafty sage,
And one of trust was he,
As he were hoary seneschal,

Or one of like degree.

But he never cast, from first to last,
A pleasant look on me.

His brows hung o'er his small grey eyes,
That look'd as in a trance,
Whene'er observed-at other time,

They had a corner glance,

And through his beard his mouth appear'd

Compress'd in vigilance.

Awhile he stood, to the Queen he bow'd,

Thrice bow'd him down full low,
In reverend guise, and thrice again
He raised himself as slow-
Like some grim statue charm'd to life,
That scarcely felt its glow.

Then turning round, he raised his wand,
And moved with measured tread,
And to the spacious hall the way

All solemnly he led,

Where, 'mid the blaze of myriad lamps, The banquet rich was spread.

PART VI.

No pleasant sight touch'd Himri's eye,
No music charm'd his ear;
Amidst the mirth I could not choose,
But note his look severe;
I felt an anger rise, that ill
Accorded with the cheer.

I look'd the old man in the face,
He eyed me with a scowl-

And methought I heard the moaning wind

Through distant caverns howlAnd then an answering sound, as if The stony rocks did growl.

The feast it pass'd with mirth and glee,
But I was ill at rest,

I felt a wrath within me rise
That would not be suppress'd;
And in my silent chamber still
It rankled in my breast.

A column rose; it bore

A brazen dragon, and fifty lamps

Shew'd it was wet with gore,

And the rocks did monstrous shapes as

sume,

Where'er I could explore.

There, at the column's base, I saw
Old Himri stand; in book
Of fiery character uncouth
He earnestly did look,

And to the dragon raised it up,

And his brazen wings he shook. My name was thrice pronounced,—and that

I could no longer brook.

I rush'd, I seized him by the beard,
I smote him with the lamp;
He reel'd, and, e'er he fell, he thrice

Upon the ground did stamp.
Then on my inmost soul there came
A deep and deadly damp.

PART VII.

One moment-all was still as death,
One moment and no more-
Then came a crash that the cavern rent,
And its sides asunder tore;

And a bellowing rose from the yawning chasm,

That open'd large before,

As if ten thousand brazen bulls

From their brazen throats did roar ;
Mix'd with the noise of cataracts,
That, now no longer pent,
In fury the strong foundations shook,
And thunder'd through the rent,
And whirling down the dismal gulf,
To black perdition went.

Another crash-all, all gave way—
I felt my body whirl'd

Round and round in the blackest night,
And in roaring chaos hurl'd,

As if I were a wretch condemn'd,
Struck from this sunny world.

PART VIII.

I cannot tell or where I fell, How long in swoon I lay;

But when I woke, in the self-same boat I was gliding fast away,

And the liveried page still stood at the bow,

And not a word did say. Narrow and dark the dismal holes

The bark went floating through, And at the bow was a carbuncle,

That shew'd the ghastly hue, Where'er we went, of rock and rent,

More horrible to view.

Sometimes we cross'd a low-brow'd vault,

Sometimes 'twas arched highAnd iron chains hung down below,

And rings wherein might lie The doom'd;-and once methought I saw The glistening of an eye Through the dim space-methought I heard

A groan of agony.

And soon we reach'd a fearful pass, Where monstrous forms did clasp The rock, as if each crag did live,

As if the stone did gasp With ire, and threw out horrid arms,

That might my body grasp.

O, Love! can terror touch the heart
That thou hast made to bear
The pangs of ruin'd hope-can death
The suffering spirit scare?
Death hath no bitter agony,

To those that must despair.

The very peril made me laugh,

To think how I could mock The fell despight of demon-spriteAnd I could feel no shock. Louder I laughed-the more the yells Ran round from rock to rock.

PART IX.

O, sleep, it is a blessed thing!

It steals the sting from woe,

Lost hopes it back again doth bring,
And more than hope bestow.

I cannot tell if it be spell,
Or Nature wills it so.
Amidst all frightful things to see,

All frightful things to hear,
Love brought despair to steel my heart,

And left me nought to fear-
Then came with gentle sleep to bless,
With visions soft to cheer.

O, Love through darkness' self can make
A pathway bright and clear!
But oh, the waking pangs!—yet still
E'en here Love's mercies are;
For if the soul refresh'd can feel
More keenly-it can bear,
E'en with the very strength; for Love,
With hope, still enters there,

And sets the prize before the eyes,
All perils for to dare.

Above me was a dusky sky,

And dusky was the ground On which I lay-'twas iron grey, Nor herbage sprang around. And as I rose, at every tread It rang an iron sound. It was all lonely dreariness, Swept o'er by many a gust Of every moaning wind, that whirl'd In air the parched dust,

That wither'd, dried, and cover'd all, As with an iron rust.

No boat-no page! where, where are they?
Nor echo answer'd where-
No object to send back the sound-

It was so bleak and bare.

No creature there could find a hole,
Nor any beast a lair.

In vain I sought, by frequent thought,
What power had brought me there.
Perchance, said I, these scenes are fair
To every other eye;

Perchance a spell of demon fell

On every sense doth lie.
And what is fair I may not see,

But all things ill desery.

No path was there, no way to choose,
No track of living thing;
Yet on I fared, regardless where,

Or what, mischance might bring.
Night over all her scowling shades
Then sullenly did fling.

It was a wild, that evil spirits

Might blast, as they should skim Over the waste, in the sweeping clouds That shaped them strange and grim. And if I looked at a peering star,

It instantly grew dim.

Onward I fared-it was the hour,

The chilling hour, when night Struggles forlorn with the grey of morn, The darkness with the light, When a gloomy castle rose to view, With a watch-tower blazing bright. Columns of smoke around it rose, Concealing all behind,

And curl'd, and roar'd, and hiss'd with a noise,

As of a rushing wind;

And a blustering tide, as if hammers plied, And thundering wheels did grind. Soon reach'd I straight the castle gate, Nor daunted was a whit;

A mace suspended hung thereat.

As I stood and gazed on it,
A grate withdrew, and to my view
These words in fire were writ:
"If thou wouldst enter at this gate,
Stranger, whoe'er thou art,

So bright, it made the darkness all
Around the thicker seem-
'Twas held by one like angel seen
In vision or in dream,
That almost was invisible

Through the resplendent stream.

It seem'd as it were Grecian art;
But marble hath no flush
Of life; nor alabaster glows
With beauty's beaming blush.
So pure, its brightness did create
Around a holy hush.

Forwards he moved, and in his hand

He bore that shining thing

I know not if 'twere earthly flame,
Or stone of magic ring—
It did defy all scrutiny,

Such lustre it did fling.

Around him, as he onward moved,
The darkness seemed to fly,
The walls like vapour to recede,
And open all to lie.-

Before me, lo! a river flow'd,

Above me was the sky.

My angel-guide-I knew not where,
I knew not how he sped;
But he was gone. A city fair

Before my eyes was spread,
With costly towers, reflected bright
In the deep river's bed.

I look'd behind-the castle-gate
Was there-it open'd wide,

And straight the burning monster-man
Forth from the portal hied.

I stepp'd aside; and he, roaring, rush'd
Into the hissing tide.

The river hiss'd, the river roar'd,

And boil'd like molten lead;
And the fishes, far as eye could see,

Leap'd from their burning bed,
And lay in heaps on every side,
Where they fell all scorch'd and dead.
I paced along the river's side,

I cross'd the crowded mart,
And many were that passed me by-
Their presence made me start;
They were so wither'd, parch'd, and dried,
It did an awe impart.

Like shrivell'd leather was their dress,
Like leather was their skin;
They look'd not men, but human husks,
That hollow were within-
Half shades, half ghosts, that penance did,
And suffer'd for their sin.

And oft they seem'd as they would speak,
As to and fro they pass'd,
But not a sound from their dry lips

Came, but a moaning blast;

And their eyeballs had a fixed glare,
That made them look aghast.

Onward I went-a palace fair
Before me I behold,

O power and boundless tyranny!
How much they lose who win!
The more their mandates fly abroad,
More restless they within.
What boots it to be Lord of all,
And yet the slave of sin ?

It was the city still-before
My eyes above it rose

A hill whose flaming summit roar'd,
As heav'd by inward throes;
As if ten thousand hammers plied
On anvils ringing blows.

The sky was dark with falling dust,
And the hill's smoking side
Red liquid pour'd, as when the tree

Is pierced where gums do bide:
And through the city's central way
Roll'd on the burning tide.

I question'd one that pass'd in haste,
Who thus the mystery told:
"This day in every year, from thence
This golden stream is roll'd,
And every track is cover'd o'er

With dust of finest gold.
Be rich, and gather all thou canst,
And find thee sacks to hold."

The city streets as on I sped

In wild confusion lay, Homes undefended, goods despoil'd—

And thieves that prowl'd for prey. And still was heard more distant din Of tumult and affray.

O what a sight it was to see
Down at that central flood!

Thousands in heaps confused there lay,
Choked in the yellow mud.