In their proud charnel of Thermopylæ, 1818. 160 Lord Byron. HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY THE awful shadow of some unseen Power This various world with as inconstant wing As summer winds that creep from flower to flower, Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance; Like hues and harmonies of evening,- Like aught that for its grace may be Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate 12 With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form,where art thou gone? Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate? Ask why the sunlight not for ever Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain river, Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown, Why fear and dream and death and birth Such gloom,-why man has such a scope No voice from some sublimer world hath ever To sage or poet these responses givenTherefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven, Remain the records of their vain endeavour, From all we hear and all we see, Thy light alone-like mist o'er mountains Or music by the night wind sent, 24 Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream. 36 Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds depart And come, for some uncertain moments lent, Man were immortal, and omnipotent, Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart. Thou messenger of sympathies, That wax and wane in lovers' eyes- Like darkness to a dying flame! Depart not-lest the grave should be, Like life and fear, a dark reality. While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Thro' many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. I was not heard-I saw them not- 48 Of life, at the sweet time when winds are wooing Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy! 60 I vowed that I would dedicate my powers To thee and thine-have I not kept the vow? now I call the phantoms of a thousand hours Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers Of studious zeal or love's delight Outwatched with me the envious nightThey know that never joy illumed my brow Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free This world from its dark slavery, That thou-O awful LOVELINESS, Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express. The day becomes more solemn and serene 1816. 72 1819. TO A SKYLARK HAIL to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run, 10 Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 15 The pale purple even Melts around thy flight; Like a star of heaven, In the broad daylight Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight, Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow'd. 20 25 30 |