THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. 
 
 % |«p- 
 
 BY 
 
 COLONEL JAMES ABBOTT, 
 
 H. M. BENGAL ARTILLERY, 
 Al'THOU OF " NARRATIVE OF A JOCRNEY FROM HERAUT TO KHIVA. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 M.DCCC.LXI.
 
 4ooo 
 
 TO HER 
 
 WHO, FROM THE DAWN OF REASON UNTIL NOW, HAS BEEN 
 
 THE MODEL FROM WHICH 1 HAVE BORROWED EVERY ATTEMPT TO PORTRAT 
 
 THE PURITY, DIGNITY, AND TENDER DEVOTION OF 
 
 THE FEMALE CHARACTER: 
 
 Co mg lister 
 
 I DEDICATE A WORK 
 
 WHICH, IF IT HAVE ANY MERIT, HAS DERIVED IT FROM THOSE IMPRESSIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 HER EXCELLENCE, 
 
 WHICH HAVE FORMED THE CHIEF CHARM OF MY BEING. 
 
 85893S
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CANTO PAGE 
 
 Preface -- ------ vu 
 
 Introduction - - - 1 
 
 I. — The Exiles .--5 
 
 II. — The Minstrel - - ----- 23 
 
 III. — The Pilgrimage - - ----- 53 
 
 rV.— The Vigil ... 67 
 
 V.— The Quest - - . - - - 93 
 
 VI. — The Defiance - - - - - - - - 127 
 
 VII. — The Dethroned -- ----165 
 
 VIII.— The Avenger :— To Pontus - - - - - - 189 
 
 IX.— The Snare - - - 233 
 
 X. — The Eve of Battle - - - - - - -271 
 
 XI.— The Succour— Part I. 295 
 
 Part II. - - 307 
 
 XII.— The Battle— Part I. ------- 329 
 
 Part II. - - - 348 
 
 Conclusion --------- 377 
 
 Notes ---------- 379
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 The half-fabulous tradition of Prometheus has afforded 
 subject for the drama to the Greek tragedian iEschylus 
 and to the poet Shelley ; the poem of the latter being a 
 beautiful completion of the bold outline of the Greek. 
 
 No resemblance to either, whether in plot or character, 
 will be found in the following work. But, as the Author 
 has presumed to read differently from those two great 
 names the tradition or allegory of Prometheus, a reason 
 for the deviation may be expected of him. 
 
 The sufferings of Prometheus, as narrated by iEschylus, 
 afforded the Greeks their noblest idea of moral sublimity. 
 The spectacle of a mighty being deliberately choosing to
 
 Via PREFACE. 
 
 suffer the most terrible of tortures for 30,000 years, rather 
 than betray a secret which would confirm the tyranny of 
 Jupiter over Gods and Men, is undoubtedly sublime. 
 But that sublimity is more effectively rendered in a score 
 of words than in a volume. And probably there are few 
 readers of jJEschylus, or of Shelley, who will not allow 
 that our sympathy with the great victim would have been 
 greater had his complaints been less. The dignity of 
 silent sorrow is expressed in few words ; and the expansion 
 of that single idea into a drama robs it of its greatest 
 power over the heart. 
 
 My purpose, however, is not to criticize, but to explain 
 my motives for deviating from the assumption of two 
 great authorities. To the human mind there can be 
 but one object, — absolutely good, absolutely great, abso- 
 lutely glorious. Other beings can be so only by com- 
 parison. When, therefore, Prometheus is made better 
 and wiser than the greatest of the Gods ; when the exist- 
 ence of that God is made to depend upon the breath of 
 Prometheus' nostrils, we do not so much perceive Pro-
 
 PKEFACE. IX 
 
 metheus to be elevated as that the Godhead is degraded : 
 for Prometheus is confessedly a finite being. 
 
 To sympathize with any being, we must understand his 
 nature so thoroughly as to be able to enter, as it were, 
 into his breast. The human can sympathize with the 
 human — can even descend to sympathize in a less degree 
 with the inferior creation. But when a man is called 
 on to sympathize with a being so incomprehensible as 
 Prometheus — who is, in fact, the Godhead in his bene- 
 ficent attribute of Divine Providence — he finds it impos- 
 sible to fit his own nature into the shapeless and boundless 
 mould before him. His reason is shocked to find the 
 higher attributes of God — his love, his mercy, truth, 
 justice, and knowledge — in subjection to attributes which, 
 disjoined from these, take the character of brute force, 
 yet appertain to the so-named King of Gods. The 
 kingship of the latter conflicts with our high estimate of 
 the former ; and the subjection of the former desecrates 
 the high pretentions of the latter ; and thus the two 
 divine natures cancel one another.
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 It has always seemed to me that the story of Pro- 
 metheus was susceptible of its sublimest interpretation by 
 regarding him as a mortal King, impressed with a sense of 
 the misery and moral degradation of his people, resulting 
 from a false and perverted worship ; and standing forth, 
 alone and unsupported, against a corrupt and all-powerful 
 priesthood, — whom he challenges to prove their vaunted 
 infallibility in the selection of a victim for sacrifice. They 
 accept the challenge and the test. The result disproves 
 their own asserted infallibility, and with it, the divinity 
 of their Jupiter. 
 
 Incensed at this, Jupiter (i. e. his Priests) withhold fire 
 from the Earth: religious rites, perhaps. The nation is 
 excommunicated. Prometheus, by the aid of Minerva 
 (Wisdom) climbs the heavens, and conveys to man the 
 Divine Fire (of Truth) from the source of life and light, 
 typified by the Chariot of the Sun. Jupiter (i.e. the 
 Priesthood) seize and chain him to a rock of the Caucasus. 
 
 Whatever may be the capacity of Angels to appreciate 
 the sufferings of an order of beings higher than Man,
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 it is certain that, to human contemplation, no spectacle 
 can exceed in sublimity that of a mortal king delibe- 
 rately enduring, for the love of his people, and to rescue 
 them from moral degradation, the utmost torture which 
 human malice could invent. This fills up the measure 
 of our capacity to admire, and rivets all our sympathies. 
 
 The Greeks, indeed, being familiar with the super- 
 human attributes of Prometheus, would ill have endured 
 that he should be lowered to the standard of humanity. 
 But a modern public are under no such restraint, and 
 would (it is believed) give their sympathies more readily 
 to a mortal than to a demigod.
 
 PROMETHEUS' MU&HTEE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Know'st thou how Day declines, where mountains rise 
 To greet with rugged brows his farewell ray ? 
 Know'st thou how Night descends from Alpine skies 
 O'er Alpine thrones to hold majestic sway? 
 Know'st thou, how, pausing on their downward way. 
 Th' ethereal coursers curb their steps of fire, 
 Champ the bright bit, in lingering, long delay, 
 And backward gaze with memory's fond desire, 
 Ere in the golden West their glorious course expire ?
 
 riiOMETIIEUS' DAUGHTER. 
 
 Oh ! there be lands, whose boast is in the dower 
 Of Nature's lavish and o'erteeming breast, 
 Lands of the Field, the Orchard, and the Bower, 
 Of Ceres cherish'd, of Pomona blest : 
 Where, by the gentle violence opprest 
 Of the Day's Lord to store and garner, flow 
 The riches Man first priz'd and first possess'd, 
 Ere from Earth's bowels wrung those ores did glow, 
 Fruitful, alas ! of crime, dull care, and carking woe ! 
 
 On fertile plains the Day-star glides away, 
 And Evening heralds soul-subduing Night : 
 But here, the rival thrones of Night and Day 
 Together was;e th' intense tho' silent fiffht : 
 For while thine eye drinks deep the roseate light 
 Of some high summit, in the dell below 
 Darkness hath wing'd her mystery-burden'd flight, 
 And rules supreme her sombre realm of woe 
 Down in the deep, deep glen, where cedar forests grow.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 And in micl-air a dreamy twilight floats, 
 Where the twin realms harmonious blend together, 
 Darkness and Light, with all their mimic motes 
 In contest soft contending each with other. 
 And the mock'd eye seeks vainly to discover 
 Where meet the limits of their neighbour reign, 
 And on the ear sweet sounds are wafted over 
 From thickets where in rival notes complain 
 The birds of Night and Day, of blithe and solemn strain. 
 
 Such, when serene the mountain shadows grow 
 From base to summit. But, when Daylight dies 
 Mid the loud crash of tempests, would'st thou know 
 What might majestic their wild rage supplies 
 To Beauty, form'd alike to harmonize 
 With Heavens all peace and their chaotic jar? 
 Then follow me ; for even now do rise 
 Moans on the breeze, betokening from afar 
 The Powers of Woe abroad, Death and the scythe-arm'd 
 Car. 
 
 1—2
 
 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER 
 
 Canto I. 
 THE EXILES. 
 
 " Sweet Mother, haste thee to the lattice. Mark 
 How whelm'd the East with storm-clouds dense and 
 
 dark. 
 Still gleams the Sun : his parting glance repay 
 With smiles, Lake, mead, soft basking in his ray. 
 The waving oaks that in his glory stood 
 Sombre and threat'ning as some midnight flood, 
 Now, as he quits the world he fill'd with light, 
 Veil all their sternness in the farewell rite,
 
 6 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO I. 
 
 And take, return the warm, impassion'd hue 
 Diffus'd o'er Heaven, as glows his last adieu : 
 Whilst o'er yon Eastern pile of mountains rude 
 Night pours the terrors of her solitude. 
 
 " Long as engag'd in training up the Vine, 
 And golden jasmine, and fair eglantine, 
 That shade the sunbeams from my elfin bower, 
 I've watch'd the gloom increasing, hour by hour ; 
 And as the hues of amethyst decay 
 O'er mountains swath 'd in ether, far away, 
 And as the purple of the sunset sky 
 Declines apace, yon summit looms more nigh ; 
 And old Traditions heaviest woe portend 
 From the near frown of snow-clad Demawend." 
 
 " Child of my joyless age, my widow'd breast, 
 Thou young Aurora of Life's dire unrest, 
 What be the portents of an evening sky 
 To her, whose sunset gleams in years gone by, 
 Whose very night, unlighted, save of one 
 Sweet Star of Hope, so tremulous and lone,
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 7 
 
 Declines apace, foreshadowing with its gloom 
 The direr Night and thraldom of the Tomb ? 
 Thou my sweet bosom-flower, sprung up ere yet 
 The soil empoison'd, or the curse deep set 
 Of barrenness for all save that which grows 
 From hopeless prospects and remember'd woes : — 
 Thou my sweet flower ! Oh, yes ! to view that form 
 Of life and Ii«;ht in contrast with the storm 
 Brooding o'er yonder heights ; to watch thee nigh, 
 Hope in thy smile, young promise in thine eye ; 
 Whilst the far realm to which those young hopes tend 
 Glooms like the wrack o'er snow-girt Demawend ; — 
 Oh, yes ! to this dim eye it still is given 
 To view, not all unmov'd, the signs of Heaven, 
 To pray the bolt its vengeance may fulfil 
 On this scath'd trunk, and leave my flower of Promise, 
 still." 
 
 " Nay, sweetest Mother, first, best guardian, nay, 
 Thy fears recall, thy fond vows yet unsay. 
 If life have trouble in its mingled flow, 
 The hand that mixed can temper every woe.
 
 8 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CAKTO I. 
 
 For me its cup all blessedness hath been, 
 
 Peace, health, and hope, light griefs and hours serene ; 
 
 A Heaven most kind, o'ershadowing me above, 
 
 On Earth, a Mother's arms, a Mother's beauteous love. 
 
 On thee the storm hath lour'd : on thy sad path 
 
 Unsparing rag'd Affliction's fiery wrath : 
 
 But, sweetest Evenings bless the storm-clear'd sky, 
 
 And peace gains beauty from each woe gone by, 
 
 And those black shadows in thy path attest 
 
 How bright on high the sunshine of thy rest." 
 
 " Indra, my sweet enthusiast, yet awhile 
 Beam o'er my soul that pure and guileless smile ! 
 For, basking in its ray, I drown life's care, 
 And catch Hope's wreck, regurging from despair. 
 Oh ! were all hearts prophetic as thine own 
 Of such fair promise for the hour to come : 
 Were not Experience but a name the more 
 For inward death to sympathies whose lore 
 Was fram'd for world less perishably fair : 
 Were Truth less frail and falsehood less sincere,
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 
 
 We yet might drag along Life's carking chain, 
 
 Nor curse the future, which brings round again 
 
 The record drear of toils without an aim ; 
 
 The tale of woes whose very sameness cloys, 
 
 And thin, dim wrecks of mutilated joys, 
 
 A Future, onlv diverse from the Past, 
 
 In that its vista's swallowed up, at last, 
 
 By the sheer precipice o'er whose dread brow 
 
 Hang gloom and terror and mysterious woe, 
 
 The shrieking: things abhorr'd of Nature most, 
 
 And far beneath that soul-affrighting coast, 
 
 To which, unskill'd, we names of gloom bequeath, 
 
 As Ades, Lethe, Nullity or Death. 
 
 " Death ! Ah, that name hath terror in its tone. 
 What ! must the hope which scarce hath buoy'd us on 
 O'er each most sad vicissitude bygone, 
 With all its promise unfulfill'd, be o'er 
 And set in gloom profound, to rise no more ? 
 Drear as Life still hath been and sad as be 
 Our cold dim prospects of Futurity,
 
 10 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO I. 
 
 'Twere easier far its countless ills to brave, 
 
 Than brook the heart-loath'd mystery of the Grave : 
 
 To cease at once from sympathies, inwove 
 
 By Sorrow's self all closely with our love, 
 
 To go, we know not whither, be, we know 
 
 Nor what, nor how ; it may be, far below 
 
 The meanest thing, that trails its form along 
 
 And ends existence with the setting sun : 
 
 Piecemeal dispers'd on Earth, air, fire or wind 
 
 The frame corporeal and the mystic mind : 
 
 Pain to such nullity were simple bliss, 
 
 And Life's worst bondage freedom, weigh'd with this. 
 
 " But mark, how denser pil'd and nearer grown, 
 Yon mighty heap of watery gloom rolls on, 
 Like some dark pall with mournful mystery rife, 
 To cloak Death's dismal triumph over life. 
 While still, above each deep'ning shade of gloom, 
 Which Earth and Heaven's commingling bounds assume, 
 His brow upheaves th' empyreal vault to rend, 
 With snows age-crown'd, majestic Demawend.
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 1 1 
 
 Low at his feet, where crouching mountains bow 
 The dwindled form and pride-despoiled brow, 
 Low at his base and round his footstool sweep 
 Floods, like old Ocean's, swelling blue and deep : 
 But not a wave shall toss its angry spray, 
 And not a cloud shall climb the upward way, 
 And scarce a sigh of all the wrathful blast, 
 In yon black dungeon pent and prison'd fast, 
 Shall with its idle breath the peace molest 
 Or break the stillness of his awful crest. 
 
 " Child of an ancient Race, sublime and lone, 
 O'er Man uprais'd, like yon cloud-girdled throne, 
 Ah ! why hath Fate, to Might material kind, 
 Still wreak'd her fury on the matchless Mind ? 
 Thy first great Sire, who brav'd the Thunderer's might 
 To snatch from Heaven Truth's soul-reviving Light, 
 For love to Man reap'd perfidy and hate : — 
 All hearts have quail'd o'er great Prometheus' fate. 
 He fell : and from his phoenix dust did spring 
 A long proud Line, of Prophet, Chief, and King ;
 
 12 PEOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO I. 
 
 Each Avith his spirit's glowing seal imprest, 
 Truth's zeal, Man's love inspiring each large breast ; 
 Each to like doom decreed: — an infant lone 
 Last heir, — and exil'd from Prometheus' throne. 
 Here, refuge from Man's hate the princely child 
 Found mid Hvrcania's rocks and mountains wild ; 
 Bequeathing for the boon his matchless Line, 
 To build mid barbarous hosts a fane divine. 
 
 " Hence sprang thy matchless Sire. My Indra, how 
 Describe his stately mien, his princely brow, 
 Those attributes sublime, which mark the mind 
 Form'd by its majesty to awe mankind. 
 Against a nation in that nation's cause 
 He stirr'd his might, dragg'd forth her tarnish'd laws 
 To open day ; despoil'd the worshipp'd fire 
 Of honours vain ; taught mortals to aspire 
 To worship worthy of the wise and free, 
 The great First-Cause, th' essential Deity. 
 Indra, thou know'st his fate. 'Twas such a day 
 As this : the Summer sun's declining ray
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 13 
 
 Stream'd o'er an ocean of dark clouds, afar 
 
 Pil'd o'er yon Eastern heights : — th' infuriate war 
 
 Of elemental Powers drew slowly on, 
 
 And Demawend's vast mass upheav'd and lone 
 
 Stood like wave-girdled pinnacle of snow. 
 
 Ne'er since that Eve so near hath gloom'd his brow, 
 
 So vast hath seem'd his tempest-skirted form : 
 
 That was the Eve when thou, sweet child, wert born : 
 
 Born mid thy father's blood, thy mother's woes. 
 
 And this — ay ! this so semblant eve will close 
 
 The fourth sweet lustre of my child's career, 
 
 And a like term of widowhood to her, 
 
 Whom Man, more cruel than relentless Death, 
 
 Bereav'd of peace, yet left the curse of breath. 
 
 'Twas such an eve as this " 
 
 " Forbear, forbear, 
 Sweet Friend. That dismal record will impair 
 Thy shatter'd strength. In characters of fire 
 Lives each dread record of her matchless &ire 
 Upon his daughter's grateful soul imprest. 
 He fell, but not ignobly : his large breast
 
 14 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO I. 
 
 O'erteemecl with fires divine that never die. 
 He was a martyr for the Truth, and high 
 As Truth can lift Man's tarnish'd soul, he rose, 
 And seal'd his birthright in the very woes, 
 Devis'd of thankless Man." 
 
 " 'Twas even so 
 He spake and look'd. The glory of his brow 
 Thine own hath caught. Ah ! could he see thee now ! 
 Far from me, Love, for ever, ever far 
 Be it thy meek and beauteous faith to mar 
 With the dark doubts by mental woe imprest 
 And dread experience on this widow'd breast. 
 It were a bliss I dare not hope, to dwell 
 On some bright future, where the word e farewell ' 
 Is a forgotten sound : — where we might claim 
 All that high promise, coupled with Love's name, 
 In which we fondly, trustingly invest 
 The wealth, the peace, the sunshine of the breast. 
 But where is Truth ? All things around us fade ; 
 E'en Love and Friendship side by side are laid 
 In a few fleeting hours : all seek one bourne, 
 With tidings of its nature none return :
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 15 
 
 Mid signs of Death innumerous, where may be 
 The path the clew to immortality ? " 
 
 " Where ! — Oh ! I've trac'd it in the breeze that flies 
 Laden with incense of a thousand sighs ; 
 In every stream bright-gushing from the rock ; 
 In every thunder's hoarse conflictive shock, 
 In the fork'd lightning, quivering as it plays, 
 The Moon's pale beam, the Sun's life-kindling rays, 
 In the Morn's music and the Eve's still sigh ; 
 And in that heart-pause of intensity, 
 When Night hath banish'd each distracting sound, 
 The World shut out and drawn her curtain round 
 My soul, my conscience and that awful eye, 
 Which scans the records of Eternity. 
 
 " Ah ! scorn not, Mother dear, that Realm refin'd 
 By Reason sway'd, the Empire of the Mind. 
 Think not, our aspirations pure and high 
 To Virtue, goodness, immortality, 
 Can ever (more than senseless matter) prove 
 Curb'd in durational) or compell'd to move
 
 16 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO I. 
 
 In sphere unworthy their exalted aim. 
 
 Think not — oh ! scorn to think, that when tins flame 
 
 Leaps from its urn, to leave it dark and lone, 
 
 A lifeless wreck, its essence bright hath flown 
 
 Back to the prison of some baser clod, \ 
 
 Deflected from the path it erst had trod |- 
 
 Tow'rd the pure presence of its source and God.'" J 
 
 She ceas'd, then meekly on her knees sank down 
 
 With eye uprais'd and tresses backward thrown, 
 
 And lip that quiver'd with the struggling fire 
 
 Of chasten'd rapture's most sublim'd desire. 
 
 " Spirit of Truth," she said, and every word 
 
 Distinct amid the stilly pause was heard 
 
 Of the vex'd elements, tho' deep and low 
 
 From the heart's inmost fane it seemed to flow. 
 
 " Spirit of Truth, whose seal we find imprest 
 
 On Heaven's starred vault, Earth's fair and genial breast, 
 
 In flowery mead and memory-haunted grove, 
 
 The Day-star's glory and Eve's star of Love, 
 
 Springs cmshino- bliss, still Autumn's sheenv ";old, 
 
 And hoarse-voic'd Winter, cloud and thunder-roll'd,
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 17 
 
 And (than eternal Nature mightier still) 
 In each sublime and mystery-hidden thrill 
 Of inward consciousness, each strong desire 
 To pierce beyond the visible World, and higher 
 E'en than the highest soar, t' attain to Thee, 
 Wellspring of Truth and Love and Purity ; 
 Here at thy feet, and meekly to thy shrine, 
 We bring the offering, worthiest thee and thine, 
 Thine own best gifts, the thoughts that fain would rise, 
 The hopes that root their anchors in the skies, 
 Th' intense desire, more potent far than death, 
 To burst the chains of ignorance and breathe 
 Truth's pure, inspiring atmosphere, and be 
 Freemen, by Truth, Eternal Truth, set free. 
 
 " Alas ! we gaze around us, all in vain ; 
 Earth, wrapt in error, loves the sensual chain : 
 Night robes the Earth in her funereal pall, 
 And eyes, long us'd to darkness, vainly call 
 That, good, which our best sympathies within 
 Abhorring, own is vanity and sin. 
 
 2
 
 18 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO I. 
 
 Whither, ah ! whither shall we turn ? To thee ? 
 
 And wilt thou, Spirit of dread Purity 
 
 Thron'd in ineffable perfection, deign 
 
 Thine ear in pity to a Worm's sad plain — 
 
 Or stoop one thought tow'rd those whose feeble 
 
 prayers 
 Are drown'd in music of ten thousand spheres, 
 And shouts of mighty, bright angelic throngs, 
 And answering raptures of material tongues 
 Swarming through Nature's realm ? Ah ! rather, say, 
 Hast thou, in boundless plenitude of sway, 
 Created aught beyond thine own control, 
 And cast the wondrous structure of the soul 
 Like dew, upon the desert to expire, 
 Merg'd in its sands or withered by its fire, 
 A fruitless, useless waste ? Or hast thou wrought 
 One utmost point of Space, from which thy thought 
 Is bounded by remoteness ; or, which Thou 
 Found'st worthy to create, yet deem'st too low 
 To claim thy sovereign care ? Our hearts reply, 
 Accurst the doubt, attaching the Most High 
 Of error, feebleness, inconstancy !
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 19 
 
 " Then, where is truth ? Once more to thee we turn. 
 Hast thou delight to see thy creatures mourn 
 And pine for that thou hold'st in boundless bliss ? 
 What ! shall a Worm impugn of littleness 
 Heav'n's Majesty supreme ? Yet, this our Earth 
 Continues still, as at primordial birth, 
 Sighing for truth, with not one gracious ray 
 To streak its void, its darkness roll away. 
 
 " Spirit of Truth ! And is it thus ? Hast thou 
 Ne'er sent a message of thy love below ? 
 Ne'er felt the pleading of thine own great might, 
 Thine own large goodness, to vouchsafe the light 
 Thou causest us to pine for ? Can there be 
 In unparticipated wealth, that free 
 Unbounded bliss our hearts ascribe to thee ? 
 
 " Then, were good, evil. Then, were darkness, light. 
 Then Chaos' self were order. Then, this bright 
 And beauteous Earth were but an humbling blot 
 On the great hand which formed it, yet forgot 
 His own strange nature ; causing it to spring 
 
 A deep reproach to him, its architect and king. 
 
 2—2
 
 20 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO I. 
 
 " It is not thus. Oh ! by thy thunders say 
 It is not, cannot be. E'en tho' thou slay 
 Deny us not ; for rather would we fall 
 By thy great hand, than brook th' ignoble thrall 
 Of that our souls despise. If Truth's pure light 
 Must needs destroy these mortal frames, too bright 
 For their gross fabric, — spare, oh ! spare them not. 
 Launch down thine awful bolt, e'en on this spot, 
 And, whatsoe'er the grosser wreck may be, 
 Let thy large goodness set our spirits free. 
 
 " But, if thou rather lov'st to work thy will 
 Benign and righteous, by the peaceful rill 
 Than the hoarse torrent : if the fruitful shower 
 And gentle dew be tokens of thy power, 
 And ruin thy strange work : oh ! then distil 
 Into our hearts the truth we pine for, still ; 
 Or if that truth has been to Earth sent down 
 Make its blest precepts evermore our own." 
 
 She ceas'd. Down glanc'd as 'twere in answer dire 
 O'er her fair brow Heaven's fork'd, destroying fire,
 
 CANTO I.] THE EXILES. 21 
 
 Lit up that forehead with surnatural light, 
 All too effulgent for her Mother's sight ; 
 Who in the fancied wreck before her spread 
 Bow'd, shuddering, to the Earth her careworn head. 
 But, harmless o'er Prometheus' child did play- 
 Promethean fire with consecrating ray, 
 Touch'd the tiar her fairy brow that bound, 
 And fus'd the ores in golden showers around ; 
 But spar'd the delicate cheek, the fearless eye, 
 Pouring its own pure flood of light on high, 
 The tresses sacred to the soul of night, 
 The forehead glistering in its snowy height. 
 Yes ! forth Prometheus' fearless daughter came 
 From searchino; test of fire's intensest flame. 
 Her beauty, breathing of the hand divine, 
 Her soul, aspiring to its source sublime, 
 Offer'd no base alloy t' incense the ray, 
 Beneath whose touch Earth's purest ores decay. 
 
 END OF CANTO I.
 
 Canto II. 
 
 THE MINSTEEL. 
 
 Days of the shadowy Past, dim years and lone, 
 Whose knell uprises from the dark abyss, 
 Where have your dun, far-glooming pinions flown 
 With all the Night and Sunshine, woe and bliss 
 Of our vain World ; its pomp and littleness ? 
 The Mighty of old Times ye've swept away ; 
 Yea ! the dread Shades, once visitant of this 
 Our dwindled World, may here no longer stray, 
 Nor on our moonlit lawns disport the frolic Fay.
 
 24 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 What have ye left us for the treasures, merg'd 
 In those black caverns, buried out of sight ; 
 For souls of fire, whose daring genius urg'd 
 E'en to the gates of Heaven their eagle flight ? 
 For him, who robb'd Sol's chariot of the light 
 And brav'd the Thunderer in his people's cause ? 
 For him, whose justice triumph'd o'er thy might, 
 Paternal love, and rebaptiz'd the laws 
 In blood, the dearest, Woe from Man's crush'd bosom 
 draws ? 
 
 A dwindled world — a race of little men, 
 Gigantic prejudice, and coward crime ; 
 The sceptic snarling in his secret den, 
 The bigot stabbing in the broad sunshine ; 
 The foul seducer and the heartless mime ; — 
 These have ye left, for those ye've downward drawn ; 
 The flash gin-palace, for the marble shrine, 
 And for the fairy dance on midnight lawn, 
 Her step, Man's victim pale, heartbroken and forlorn.
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 25 
 
 What have ye left us, for the faith approv'd, 
 The leal, warm heart, the hospitable board ? 
 The rude old hall our Fathers' Fathers lov'd, 
 The manly spirit and the stainless sword ? 
 What fate perverse invests an insect word 
 With immortality, to deeds denied ? 
 That thou canst but the Poet's song accord, 
 For all thou'st whelm'd beneath thy plombless tide — 
 For all our World's best wealth, its glory, boast and 
 pride ? 
 
 Who would abide on this dispeopled Land, 
 Its honour tarnish'd and its might decay'd ? 
 Nor pant to join that old, illustrious Band, 
 Beneath thy banner, awful Power, array'd ? 
 To meet the Sage of Academus' shade, 
 Each stainless Martyr to his Faith and Race, 
 Th' angelic soul, of Heaven that breath'd and made 
 An Eden bloom on Earth's sin-blighted face, 
 And link'd us to the skies, with pure, ineffable grace ?
 
 26 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 Oh ! bear me hence, ye billows that roll on 
 Your gloomy channel to the vasty Deep ! 
 Bear me to realms that own no tarnish'd sun 
 Beyond Earth's cavern'd cell and dungeon keep. 
 Waft, whirl me onward, downward o'er the steep, 
 Where billows of the Past have hurl'd their spray, 
 To where the Mighty of all Times from sleep 
 Have ris'n to greet the Beauteous, Wise, and Gay, 
 And of the dower of Eld, but Woe hath known decay. 
 
 Night glooms without : but in Prometheus' Hall 
 The cresset lamp lights up the old rude wall, 
 Casting long, wavering shadows, crost in path 
 By countershades, projected from the hearth : 
 As crackling high those cheerful flames aspire, 
 And Man owns friendship with destroying fire. 
 That ruddy flame might well the gloom allay 
 Of the rude Hall that feels its genial ray ; 
 But how dispel the still encroaching night 
 Shrouding their hearts, lone watchers of its light ?
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 27 
 
 " What holds his step ? Alas ! what led him forth 
 To brave the Night gloom and the tempest wroth ? 
 Indra my child ? Ah me ! that blinding flash, 
 That peal, as Heaven and Earth in one dire crash 
 Were wreck'd together ! Fearful is the night, 
 And what avail firm heart and nerve of might 
 When age-pil'd rocks the Whirlwind's fury own, 
 And e'en the Monarch of the Woods is thrown 
 From his primeval base." 
 
 The Maid replied 
 With words of cheer, whose faltering notes belied 
 Th' assum'd composure she would fain instil : 
 
 " Wild is the night, the rude gale rises still, 
 And the fork'd lightning's flash incessant plays 
 Scatt'ring the gloom with dire yet friendly rays : 
 But Dion kens each sign the welkin shows 
 Of brooding storm ; and never tempest rose 
 With more of portent to forenounce its path 
 And warn the wanderer of impending wrath. 
 I heard the mighty Mountain's distant groan, (2) 
 I heard the woodland Spirit's plaintive moan,
 
 28 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 I saw the Tarn in silvery waves upbreak, 
 When not one Aspen's mobile leaf might quake, 
 Whilst (grown so near his mass) each rift was 
 
 kenn'd 
 Scarring the awful front of Demawend: 
 These Dion could not miss, nor scan in vain : 
 He, doubtless, shelters with some friendly swain. 
 Fear not for him, whom Heaven reserves a place 
 Mid chiefs and heroes of our ancient Race." 
 
 The grace of eloquence was in her eye, 
 The fervor, kindled in the soul, by high 
 And holy confidence : yet as she spoke 
 At times the faltering of frail nature broke 
 The current of her voice, and on her cheek 
 The deadly pallor and the hectic streak 
 Emotion's conflict with the spirit speak. 
 
 Deeper, meanwhile and deadlier in its ire 
 The Tempest pour'd its mingled flood and fire :
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 29 
 
 Howl'd the Night-blast and hoarsely peal'd on high 
 
 In awful bursts the chorus of the sky. 
 
 While at each flash that lonely cresset's glare 
 
 Pal'd into dimness : then, with sickly flare 
 
 Resum'd, th' effulgence past, its languid reign, 
 
 Dim as the twilight of some battle-plain, 
 
 Where Man's fell passions from their drear abode 
 
 Hell's thin ghosts muster to their feast of blood. 
 
 Still, at each gust of that all-powerful blast 
 
 Trembled the walls, of massive fabric cast, 
 
 And wildly shook, as 'twere to giant's hand, 
 
 That door of strength like screen of willow wand ; 
 
 And still young Indra to the portal pass'd 
 
 Listing each shrill note of the fitful blast, 
 
 And half believ'd, amid the jarring war 
 
 Of the vex'd elements, the shriek to hear 
 
 Or wail of human woe ; and scarce might quell 
 
 Her own wild cry of anguish, as they fell : 
 
 Yet, veiling in calm mien her soul's alarms, 
 
 Return'd to fill her widow'd Mother's arms, 
 
 And felt the terrors of her heart surcease 
 
 In anxious ministry to others' peace.
 
 30 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 'Twas now the midnight time ; and there is power 
 (Who hath not own'd it ?) in the midnight hour. 
 E'en when the sun hath left a cloudless sky, 
 And all Night's golden host keep watch on high, 
 Tis not, alone, that slumber then hath prest 
 Her solemn signet o'er Creation's rest, 
 And that our fancies take the mournful tone 
 Of things that walk the noiseless World alone ; 
 But that a slumb'rous torpor hath o'erta'en 
 The healthful guardians of the teeming brain, 
 And dark and restless Spirits freedom win, 
 To range at large the gloomier world within. 
 'Tis thus, that judging Nature's happier cause 
 By the stern verdict of his bosom's laws, 
 Man peoples Earth with many a fearful throng 
 Of phantom shapes that to the soul belong, 
 Inverting Nature's order, till are hurl'd 
 The Mind's dark outcasts on the natural world. 
 
 'Twas, when the loudest peal did bellowing swell 
 Throughout that spacious hall, and down each dell,
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 31 
 
 And round each mountain skirt the echoes woke, 
 
 That sunder'd, sudden as by thunder-stroke, 
 
 Wide, with terrific shock, the portal flew ; 
 
 And while those lonely Watchers backward drew, 
 
 And each to other in amazement clung, — 
 
 And while the rude gale in its fury swung, 
 
 Howling thro' that drear Hall, and in its might 
 
 Flar'd, wan'd, and leaping high, expir'd the light 
 
 Of the pale lamp, — a shadowy form 'gan glide 
 
 Into the darken'd chamber, stride by stride, 
 
 To where they shrinking stood : when, as each 
 
 heart 
 Flutter'd and paus'd in awe's unwonted start, 
 The Lightning's flash lit up a well-known form : 
 'Twas Dion's self, sore batter'd by the storm, 
 Silent, absorpt, as by some potent charm. 
 Joy chas'd from Indra's heart her wild alarm. 
 " Safe, safe — oh, safe, at last ! Sweet Mother, see 
 How dear to Heaven the Widow's sorrows be, 
 How dear the Orphan's tears ! " 
 
 And running on 
 With passion's inconsistency she wrung
 
 32 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 Her slender hands, and wept by turns and smil'd, 
 And question upon question ceaseless pil'd — 
 Till, struck by that she read on Dion's brow, 
 She sudden check'd her joy's exuberant flow, 
 And paus'd inquiringly, half chill'd with dread. 
 " Mother, my more than Mother," calmly said 
 The storm-drench'd Wand'rer, " not alone I come, 
 A stranger craves the shelter of our home, 
 O'erta'en like me. Awhile, without we stood, 
 My voice drown'd, doubtless, by the thunder flood, 
 Till wide the portal flew." 
 
 " What ! rests there, still, 
 One lone storm-beaten Wand'rer of the hill, 
 Expos'd the while to this so fearful blast ? " 
 Swift from his side Prometheus' Daughter pass'd 
 Mid the wild storm : and soon with lofty stride 
 The Stranger cross'd their threshold at her side. 
 
 Tall as the giant Sons of Earth his form, 
 It rose, like granite Mount, by many a storm 
 From dateless ages lash'd, each thund'rous shock 
 Denuding more the scath'd and rifted rock :
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 33 
 
 Till, reft each line of grace, thro' Heaven uphurl'd 
 The mighty Skeleton o'erawes a World. 
 He seem'd of ancient days. Not that the snow 
 Of age hung hoar o'er that majestic brow, 
 But that his mien and bearing did display 
 The legend old of some far-distant day. 
 He was all-diverse from Man's minish'd Race ; 
 And 'twas enough, at that lone hour, to trace 
 The sweeping lines of his majestic height, 
 Breathing of power defac'd and ruin'd might, 
 To lead the fancy back o'er ages gone, 
 And deeds by men of higher lineage done, 
 To times all-hallow'd by the lapse of years, 
 Whose page hath fir'd our hearts, or triumph'd o'er our 
 tears. 
 
 In ample folds his cloak of sable hung 
 Around that mighty form, and lightly strung 
 A minstrel harp beneath his arm he bore, 
 Whose silver wires the rude gale murmur'd o'er 
 In melancholy descant. And his brow, 
 Furrow'd so deep with lines of thought or woe,
 
 34 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 A golden circlet bound. Her own the Maid 
 Half deem'd it, as her hand instinctive stray'd 
 In search of that had bound her forehead fair, 
 Awestruck and startled not to grasp it there.* 
 
 Awhile beside that peerless maid he stood ; 
 His own vast frame and sinewy bulk endued 
 With twofold might contrasted with her form : 
 So, when the night-clouds muster for the storm, 
 Glooms o'er the fairy skiff, with rifted keep 
 And shattered hull, some tyrant of the Deep. 
 Awhile he paus'd : his stately stride resum'd, 
 And as the dark folds of his drapery gloom'd 
 In the uncertain light, his noiseless tread 
 And form unearthly stirr'd a secret dread 
 In either bosom : an unsanction'd chill, 
 That jarr'd the nerves with momentary thrill, 
 Nor yielded place entirely to the sway 
 E'en of that voice the spirit-tides obey — 
 The calm high tone of Reason, side by side 
 With meek-ey'd Faith and Virtue's blameless pride. 
 
 * See p. 21, line 8, Canto I.
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 35 
 
 The board is spread : with gesture, voice, and smile 
 They seek their lone guest's sadness to beguile, 
 And press their homely fare. But if, perchance, 
 His eye responds one instant to their glance, 
 'Tis but with stately gesture to decline 
 The cates unhonour'd, the untasted wine, — 
 While, self-absorb 'd, droops low his shadowy brow 
 As brooding o'er unutterable Woe. 
 
 Stranger," the Maiden said, and as she spoke, 
 And her rich silvery voice the silence broke, 
 She started at the murmur: " Stranger, say, 
 Lies it in our poor gift to wile away 
 By deed or sympathy the gloom-cloud spread 
 O'er thy care-burden'd mind ? If with the Dead 
 Thy hopes and vows lie buried, brief the hour 
 Ere the cold grave shall cease its envious power 
 To sever hearts that love. Or if it be 
 That thou dost seek the feeble sympathy 
 Of human souls, the law that bids us give 
 The homeless shelter binds us to relieve
 
 36 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 The burden of his cares, and balm impart 
 
 To staunch the death-wounds of the writhing heart. 
 
 But if thy sorrow hide in that deep mine 
 
 Where never ray of mortal lamp might shine ; 
 
 If from thyself, thy conscience thou dost flee, 
 
 And, seeking refuge, find'st but misery : 
 
 We, who like thee have borne the wearying load, 
 
 Would point or lead thy footsteps to thy God. 
 
 He gave us rest." 
 
 She ceas'd, for she had broke 
 The spell of darkness : In his eye there woke 
 A lambent flame of soft and hallow'd light 
 That beam'd benign on her, and seem'd t' invite 
 Her heart's full tenderness. 'Twas even so 
 Her own great Sire, if lingering still below, 
 Perchance had beam'd, had gaz'd upon his child : 
 Yet he, mid his dread sufferings might have smil'd 
 Rich in a parent's love : and this lone brow, 
 So scarr'd with care, so furrow'd deep with woe, 
 Seem'd ne'er such passing luxury to have known. 
 — But hark ! he wakes his wild harp's wizard tone,
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 
 
 And his full breast outpours the flood of song 
 
 To whelm and waft the hearer's heart alono;. 
 
 His voice rose like some spirit of the Deep 
 
 Who sings the waves and warring winds to sleep : 
 
 A voice of other clays, a buried sound, 
 
 Call'd into Life from Memory's funeral ground : 
 
 A melancholy descant, whose high sway 
 
 Hope, fear, love, passion, madness' self obey : 
 
 E'en the rude storm grew hush'd as it did swell, 
 
 And bellowing thunders moan'd their last farewell. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Proudly above the rock-pil'd mount he stood : 
 Beneath him spread, with inlet, cape and bay; 
 Old Pontus roll'd afar his sombre flood, 
 And calm repos'd in conscious power of sway. 
 Is it the murmur of his young waves' play, 
 Each coursing other to the mountain shore ? 
 No ! 'tis a voice which deeper tides obey, 
 The hum of human life, as densely pour 
 The multitudinous waves of Being, o'er and o'er.
 
 38 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 For at his feet expectant nations throng, 
 Summon'd to view and weigh with temperate eye 
 Light's strife with Night, the war of Right with Wrong — 
 A mortal king Jove's majesty defy. 
 There stand his white-stol'd priests : their looks bely 
 The fainting of their hearts, as call'd to prove 
 Their gift infallible, or haply die 
 The scorn of men below and gods above : 
 How may dead phantoms aid? "What help from thun- 
 derinof Jove ! 
 
 " Proceed ye priests of Jove." The altars smoke, 
 The victims bleed, the incense clouds arise ; 
 The prostrate priests their deity invoke, 
 The rocks, the glens, reverb their frantic cries. 
 The entrails they consult ; yon azure skies, 
 Which calmly witness their un'vailing care, 
 Are search 'd from East to West for auguries, 
 Each winged wanderer of the pathless air, 
 Summon'd to aid their choice and guide their judgment fair.
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 39 
 
 " And now bring forth the test. Ye ancient Seers, 
 Let your great Master here his offering claim, 
 And be his choice the proof, or that he wears 
 No heavenly crown, or that his mighty name 
 Hath been malign'd by me. And thus shall shame 
 Henceforth light only on the guilty brow. 
 So shall Jove's foil'd divinity proclaim 
 Your faith unsound, or e'en Prometheus bow 
 
 Before your countless Joves low as he scorns them 
 
 now." 
 
 Deeply the Conclave paus'd, that test survey'd, 
 With anxious eye would fain explore it thro'. 
 On that dread stake their fame, their power was laid — 
 Existence' self, perchance, the breath they drew, 
 The very life-blood eddying warmly through 
 Their daunted hearts : and worse than all to be 
 The vulgar scorn of the infuriate crew, 
 So long the dull slaves of their tyranny. 
 Oh ! of scorn's venom'd breath how oft the scornful die !
 
 40 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 The lot is cast, the die is thrown. " Now see, 
 My fellow citizens, how wise the choice 
 Of Jove the Thund'rer. Worship him with me, 
 And in his novel rites with me rejoice. 
 Behold the offal which his own dread voice 
 Selects to grace th' inviolable shrine. 
 Long have ye thought to pamper him with joys 
 Of the gross sense. Jove most delights to dine 
 On carrion, Dogs despise, Immortals deem divine. 
 
 " O ye with Reason's glorious gift endow'd, 
 Of mien erect and brow that fronts the skies, 
 Have ye in sooth so long, so blindly bow'd 
 To type of all on Earth ye most despise ? 
 Is aught but goodness noble in your eyes ? 
 If crime or lust as attributes belong 
 To an almighty Father, Earth supplies 
 Full many, mighty in pursuit of wrong, 
 
 Who babes in virtue crawl with grovelling brows along."
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 41 
 
 He ceas'd : and at his words, from far and near, 
 Around, beneath, loud shouts of triumph rise. 
 The woods, the rocks, reverb that mighty cheer, 
 Which rising, circling, settles in the skies. 
 Through all his coasts old Pontus multiplies 
 The glorious plaudit. 'Tis a Nation sends 
 Her mighty shout afar ; and Earth replies ; 
 And Heaven itself a note accordant lends, 
 As to the Dome serene Truth's jubilee ascends. 
 
 Another shout. But ah ! how different this ! 
 It rather seem'd Humanity's dread ban, 
 Or some dire curse deep mutter'd from th' Abyss 
 Where Things immortal writhe in deathless pain. 
 Like a chill blight it fell, nor rose again, 
 For Echo loath'd th' abhorr'd and guilty sound, 
 And Heaven ejected from its pure domain 
 Those demon notes, and the blue Euxine found 
 No answer to their din throughout his tranquil bound.
 
 42 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 'Twas the fell curse of vengeance : " Tear them clown, 
 On their own altars rend the paltering throng, 
 And from each victim's entrails be it known 
 Why Truth has suffer'd contumely and wrong." 
 Frantic they rush in one mad crowd along 
 To wreak the curse each readier tongue had found : 
 And all had perish'd, but that instant rung 
 His voice, so deep and awful in its sound, 
 And with resistless spell their frantic progress bound. 
 
 " Peace ! " — and the tumult ceas'd. That single word, 
 Which far and near earth, air, and ocean gave, 
 (So seem'd to each,) hath quell'd the dire accord 
 Of vengeful spirits, stilling every wave 
 Of wroth in trancement settled as the grave : 
 Each paus'd, and wonder'd that he paus'd, yet sought 
 No effort to shake off the spell nor brave 
 That strange ascendance which a sound has wrought 
 
 O'er each reluctant pulse, each feeling, power and thought.
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 43 
 
 All stood, all gaz'd in expectation deep 
 On stern Prometheus, as alone he stood 
 High o'er the rest, like some rock-anchor'd steep 
 Mid the wave-myriads of the briny Flood. 
 The scorn, which curl'd his lip and fix'd the bloo d 
 In one swart flush upon his else pale cheek, 
 Subsided calm beneath the graver mood 
 Of thought sublime and sympathies that speak 
 Heart-stirring language there, in many a soften'd streak. 
 
 " Men, Brethren, would ye stain a holy cause 
 
 With dastard murder ? Ye have quell'd indeed 
 
 A faith, perverting justice', mercy's laws : 
 
 Would ye, dread Ate should to Jove succeed ? 
 
 Hate, discord, murder, your accursed creed ? 
 
 Truth leads Hope, Peace and Mercy, in her train. 
 
 One God our Father, Love our sacred need. 
 
 What wretch with blood our spotless league would stain, 
 Our high and holy cause with hellish rites profane ?
 
 44 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CAOTO II. 
 
 " Where'er degrees be found of Good or Great, 
 There needs must be a Greatest and a Best. 
 Man, first of all the visible create, 
 Nor made himself, nor skills with life t' invest 
 The veriest insect, which the glowing West 
 Lulls to eternal sleep. Man, then, is not 
 Or best, or greatest ; higher soars our quest. 
 There is a God, who Heaven and Earth begot. 
 
 To search, fulfil his laws, our highest, happiest lot. 
 
 " Him by his works we judge, — harmonious all : 
 The law which fram'd and guides the spheres is one. 
 Earth rose from Chaos' murk and deadly thrall, 
 By the blest music of the Mom-Star won 
 To being : — basking in the new-born Sun. 
 Her pulse rich tides of harmony still move. 
 Concord's blest laws Man violates, alone 
 Of Things on Earth beneath, in Heaven above, 
 
 For Harmony's essential soul, God's law divine, is Love.
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTKEL. 45 
 
 " But see, he comes, the King whose Empire pure 
 
 All hearts of flesh, all spirit wills obey. 
 
 Lo ! where the gates of light wide-spread appear, 
 
 The mighty valves of everlasting day. 
 
 Lift up your heads, ye gates, and ye who lay 
 
 In Discord's bondage, lift the drooping brow ; 
 
 Heaven sheds the peaceful splendours of its ray, 
 
 And every knee and every heart shall bow, 
 And Heaven with Earth shall meet and blend in Love's 
 harmonious flow." 
 
 He ceas'd : the waves were still'd. No longer rave 
 The frantic bloodhounds of the general breast : 
 Peace, harmony, like her whom Ocean's wave 
 Bore in her beauty from his dark unrest, 
 Pervade that mighty tide of Life. They feast 
 On great Prometheus the unsated eye : 
 Till a low murmur from their hearts releas'd, 
 " Friend, Father of our Race," like winds that sigh 
 O'er surf-strown shores, did swell, rise, falter, fade and die.
 
 46 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CAXTO II. 
 
 The Minstrel paus'd : a silence deep and long 
 Took place of that most wild and thrilling song. 
 For, winds at rest, and thunders hush'd afar, 
 No sound of life or strife the ear might jar, 
 Save when the glancing drops with plashy sound 
 Fell from the sated roof those walls around, 
 With mournful, drear monotony that Drought 
 No break to stillness, no relief from thought : 
 As, wrapt in wonder of their Minstrel Guest, 
 His audience seiz'd each varying mood exprest 
 By those awe-kindling features : till each tone 
 Of passion, thence transferr'd, became their own : 
 Till as he gaz'd, they gaz'd, or sigh'd, they sigh'd, 
 Breath'd as he breath'd, or as he paus'd replied 
 By a like pause, that had well nigh exprest 
 Th' instinctive throbs of each excited breast. 
 Again, his hand the silent chords awoke, 
 His voice of power that settled stillness broke, 
 And thrilling wildly as the harp-notes rung 
 'Twas thus, his strain renew'd, the Minstrel sung.
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 47 
 
 I 
 
 Ji It tt — continued. 
 
 " Where is the great Prometheus ? Not where rise 
 Yon incense-clouds around Saturnius' shrine. 
 Orphans their father seek : a Nation's sighs 
 Are for the Chief of that illustrious Line 
 By them esteem'd scarce lower than divine, 
 Whence the High Stewards of their rights still spring: 
 Th' Opprest and Friendless at his loss repine 
 Whom Truth inspir'd : the Land bewails her king. 
 
 Shout high ye priests of Jove, let the blue welkin ring. 
 
 " Seek ye your king, vain Men ! Seek first the wing, 
 Of soaring eagle to ascend yon height, 
 Where the great Master of Deceit doth fling 
 O'er rugged rocks his frame of giant might, 
 And toss th' unquiet limbs in torturous plight, 
 Seeking the rest he never more shall know : 
 While still the hovering bird of Jove in sight 
 Stoops o'er his prey and slakes the fiery glow 
 
 That lights his cruel eye in the red torrent's flow."
 
 48 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 So spake tli' insidious priests. A cloud of gloom 
 Hangs o'er Prometheus' fate, who never more 
 Walk'd in the ranks of Men. The envious tomb 
 Of Error sepulchred the flame he bore 
 From Heaven to darken'd Earth. On Error's shore 
 Time since hath roll'd full many an Age away : 
 Yet, still when round Elborus' forehead hoar 
 The Tempest lours and the vext Euxine's spray 
 Meets with the clouds above, and glancing Meteors play, — 
 
 The awestruck peasant views that mighty form, (3) 
 Scarr'd by a thousand years of torturous woe, 
 And marks the Eagle shrouded in the storm 
 Stoop o'er his victim to repeat the blow ; 
 And mid the gale's dull moaning, lists the low 
 Deep plaint, by more than mortal suffering wrung, 
 Where the great Victim wipes his careworn brow, 
 And, dauntless, braves a fate he will not shun, 
 Spurning the profFer'd truce would chain his free-born 
 tongue.
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTKEL. 49 
 
 Again the harp-notes paus'cl ; and with them fell 
 The minstrel-song that with resistless spell 
 Had chain'd each list'ning ear ; and rising slow, 
 Without or word of speech or sign of brow — 
 As some dark cloud upheaves from Ocean's breast 
 Its vasty bulk and gloom-infolden crest, — 
 Stalk'd thro' the twilight Hall their minstrel guest;, 
 And, as he pass'd and his long shade did fall 
 O'er half the midnight silence of the hall, 
 His giant height, his robe of raven dye, 
 And mien reserv'd of gloom and mystery, 
 View'd at that solemn hour, strange awe impress'd, 
 And wild surmise on each excited breast. 
 
 Morn dawns. Arrang'd their hospitable hoard, 
 Their stranger guest seeks not the lowly board, 
 His chamber vacant proves, his couch imprest : 
 No vestige trace they of their recent, guest, — 
 Save that the wizard harp he sway'd so well 
 Remains, conjecture's wildering maze to swell. 
 
 4
 
 50 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO II. 
 
 Howe'er departed, whatsoe'er his birth, 
 
 A phantom shape, or lone sad child of Earth, 
 
 No more by those lone Watchers of the Hill 
 
 His form of mystery or his wizard skill 
 
 Thenceforth was known. The hamlet search'd around 
 
 No clew to aid their anxious quest was found: 
 
 One aged sire his hoar head shook to hear 
 
 Their tale, and spake of woes impending near, 
 
 And of an awful form from ages past 
 
 Haunting that mountain skirt, what time the blast 
 
 Swept with unwonted violence to rend 
 
 The treasur'd snow-wreaths from proud Demawend : 
 
 Whose harp-notes heard, when sobs the Night storm low, 
 
 Are still to Man dread harbingers of woe. 
 
 More that grey Seer had said : but Death's arrest 
 
 That instant still'd the pulses of his breast ; 
 
 And backward lapsing on his couch, with eye 
 
 Fixt in its glassy lustre on the sky, 
 
 And finger pointing to that mountain height, 
 
 O'er which hung, glooming in the dim twilight, 
 
 One spectral cloud, his spirit pass'd away ! 
 
 Aw'd and dismay'd his hearers left the clay
 
 CANTO II.] THE MINSTREL. 51 
 
 So late instinct with life ; and speeding home 
 
 Gaz'd back in dread upon that summit lone, — 
 
 Where tower'd, like Titan limn'd against the sky, 
 
 Motionless, pois'd in Heaven's immensity, 
 
 That spectral cloud: — Their hearts were chilPd, their 
 
 breath 
 Disturb'd not Night's lone conference with Death. 
 
 END OF CANTO II. 
 
 4—2
 
 Canto III. 
 
 THE PILGBOAGE. 
 
 'Tis Morn's first struggle with the thrall of Night, 
 Darkness' last sob, the birth of jocund Light. 
 Freshness is in the air, and o'er the flowers 
 Tears mid their tranquil slumbers have been shed ; 
 And tho' no breeze is stirring in the bowers 
 Nature hath broke her covenant with the Dead. 
 The Brook, deep buried in the dingle's bed, 
 Lifts its long silent voice, and op'ning slow, 
 Life, Nature, Day prepare their buds to spread, 
 In that most pure, effulgent planet's glow, 
 Bright Lucifer, the son of Morn, the first sad heir of woe.
 
 54 PEOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO III. 
 
 Hark, 'twas the note of some awaking bird ! 
 Another joins : then spreads the twittering cry 
 In jargon low, still strength'ning, till are heard 
 Half-practis'd melodies, born but to die : 
 Faint trilling strains, that evermore supply, 
 By multitude and sweetness, what in power 
 Hath been denied them. From his kindred sky 
 The lark hath call'd the blackbird from his bower, 
 And the wild mountain breeze is w r aking tree and 
 flower. 
 
 And higher still, and multiplied around, 
 From the Vale's bosom to the Mountain's brow, 
 Ascend and meet the airy tides of sound, 
 And mingling glide in one harmonious flow : 
 For now the Torch of Heaven is kindling slow 
 To its full golden glory, and extend 
 Earth's budding beauties to th' enamour'd glow 
 Of that bright Orb : and now his fires are kenn'd 
 Beac'ning thine awful crest, proud peak of Demawend. (4)
 
 CANTO III.] THE PILGRIMAGE. 55 
 
 Nature hath risen from her trance, and joy 
 
 Still marks her rising, is her first employ. 
 
 Nature awakes in loveliness confest, 
 
 As late she sank in loveliness to rest. 
 
 The languor soft, enshrouding her repose, 
 
 Like elfin robes fell from her as she rose, 
 
 Radiant in life and smiles, and every vein 
 
 Rend'ring the heart its full throb back again ; 
 
 As the pure tide recruited by her rest 
 
 Runs its glad round bright sparkling through her breast. 
 
 In all her smiles her freshness and the might 
 
 Of Heav'n-born beauty, as she meets the sight 
 
 Of Man, she calls him with her thrilling voice, 
 
 Diffus'd thro' earth, air, ocean, to rejoice. 
 
 For him her smile doth beam, her song doth rise : 
 
 For him Love's lustrous beacon, her pure eyes 
 
 Are lighted up to lure him with their ray 
 
 To peace that blooms where her sweet footsteps stray. 
 
 For him each full throb of that heart, each sigh 
 
 Whisp'ring of joys too bright to languish, pall, or die. 
 
 So broke the morn : so Nature woo'd to bless, 
 
 And vainly tempted Man to happiness.
 
 56 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO III. 
 
 Prometheus' Daughter with the dawn arose : 
 
 The bird whose note dispell'd her light repose 
 
 Had scarce his decent, russet plumage drest, 
 
 When her young foot the dewy greensward press'd. 
 
 And now with Dion on the mountain-brow 
 
 She stands, absorb 'd, soul, mind, in cheerless woe. 
 
 Blind to that glowing prospect, deaf to all 
 
 The songs of bliss that round her rise and fall. 
 
 Would'st thou the cause divine ? With me draw near, 
 
 List that deep voice which calls the heart-wrung tear. 
 
 ' Indra, my mind is fixt. Could aught control 
 The firm and settled purpose of my soul, 
 It were that woe, sweet Maid, which but to see 
 Is torture, madness, misery to me. 
 But I am sprung of no ignoble Race. 
 Like thee (tho' more remote) my blood I trace 
 To kings and heroes of an ancient Line, 
 Who shed their life-blood in a cause divine. 
 Too long I've linger'd, trifling life away, 
 And burying powers not giv'n to feed Decay.
 
 CANTO III.] THE PILGRIMAGE. 57 
 
 Henceforth I spurn th' unworthy sloth, and go 
 To take my grade in Earth's wide strife of woe. 
 Sorrow from ancient days hath been the lot 
 Of our scath'd Race, and yet forsakes us not. 
 To meet her step, unfalt'ringly I go, 
 Nor count th' ally of our great House my foe ; 
 Nor ask a lot, aught differing from their fate, 
 To write Earth's noblest blood degenerate. 
 
 " Let Sorrow come, but with her there shall tread 
 A step not mindless of th' unburied Dead : 
 And mid the World's wide turmoil there shall be 
 One voice for Truth and Heaven-born Liberty : 
 One heart to dare, one hand that heart to aid, 
 One soul unshrinking, one untarnish'd blade. 
 Earth has her miseries, but compensates all 
 In that last gift, the narrow, peaceful hall." 
 
 " What dreams be these, my Dion ? Whence art thou 
 So changed of late ? What cloud o'erhangs thy 
 brow ?
 
 58 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO III. 
 
 The hunter's hardy toil, the hunter's meed, 
 Supplied of late Ambition's highest need. 
 Whence hast thou learn'd for stormier joys to pine, 
 And count this impulse of thy soul, divine? 
 Oh ! show me but a hope, the Truth we prize 
 Shall gain fresh lustre thro' the sacrifice, 
 And not to stay, but urge thy step, shall be 
 Her voice, who loses all in losing thee." 
 
 " Yes, Indra, I am chang'd. From that dread night, 
 When, scaling Demawend's sublimest height, 
 And downward gazing o'er the cloud-roll'd plain, 
 I heard that more than mortal minstrel strain, 
 And turning met the deep, unfathom'd eye, 
 And read therein a stormier destiny, — 
 Since then the change. Such portents greet them not 
 Whom Heav'n design'd to fill the peasant's lot. 
 They note some high design, they mark the mind, 
 Destined to sway the fortunes of his kind ; 
 Their hopes, their fears, their interests to partake, 
 And self's strong fetters from the soul to break.
 
 CANTO III.] THE PILGRIMAGE. 59 
 
 Would Indra bid her Dion basely drown 
 The general care in objects all his own, 
 Chasing from thought the deep debt handed down 
 Thro' a long line of kings ? " 
 
 " No ! Dion, no ! 
 Prometheus' fate wants yet th' ignoble woe 
 Of counting one, in all his long descent, 
 With finite joys or selfish schemes content. 
 Go ! since thy conscience points th' aspiring road, 
 Pursue the path our Race hath ever trod ; 
 Confront like them privation, peril, woe, 
 And like them bind with Glory's wreath thy brow." 
 
 " There spake Prometheus. Light of my lone soul ! 
 Did not dread Conscience urge her stern control, 
 No earthly lure could tempt from thee to stray. 
 But what hath great Prometheus' Blood to say 
 With those who dream life's languid hours awav ? 
 Where is the tranquil peace his son hath known ? 
 The myrtle sceptre or the pillow'd throne ? 
 Love were too blest a privilege to grace 
 The last scath'd relics of that Heaven-struck Race.
 
 60 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO III. 
 
 Or, be its voice allow'd, it ne'er may prove 
 The changeful strain, still blest, of mutual love ; 
 But a deep dirge-like, woe-prophetic tone, 
 Whose burden tearless sighs, the lone heart's ceaseless 
 moan." 
 
 " True, my heart's lord : a troublous lot 'tis still 
 Our fate, the fate of all our Line to fill. 
 Yet, not for fortune, power, or bliss, would we 
 Barter this high, tho' mournful Destiny, 
 While Heaven vouchsafes a spirit undeprest, 
 Serene in sunshine of a guileless breast. 
 But whither tends thy footstep ? What the clew 
 Thine ardent Fancy prompts thee to pursue ? " 
 
 " First to Elborus' summit, were't alone 
 To pierce the mystery of that Heav'n-pil'd Throne ; 
 Consigning there to Nature's decent breast 
 His sacred relics, whose dread Shade will rest, 
 Perchance, when Earth receives the boon she gave, 
 And those bleach'd bones repose within the grave.
 
 CANTO III.] THE PILGKIMAGE. 61 
 
 Thither 1 haste, uncloubting there to see 
 The clew to deeds may stamp me worthy thee. 
 Light of my eyes, farewell ! Thy Mother's tear 
 I dare not see : be't thine her woe to cheer. 
 Farewell — farewell ! " 
 
 She sank upon his breast. 
 So clings the woodbine to its loncr-lov'd rest : 
 Her fair arms twin'd in hopelessness of woe, 
 Her eyes uprais'd, that on Ins own do grow 
 Fixt in their tearless misery ; — her hair 
 Back from her brow thrown wildly in despair, 
 With all its dense folds of the raven dye. — 
 Whoe'er had view'd her in the agony 
 Of that dark moment, had but little guess'd 
 Of the firm spirit shrin'd within her breast. 
 Whoe'er had known her when the pang was past, 
 Had little deem'd Affliction's wing- could cast 
 So dark a shadow o'er that spirit, prone 
 Mid others' hopes and cares t' annihilate her own. 
 
 Attir'd as suits the mountain's hardy child 
 Dion set forth on venture lone and wild.
 
 62 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO III. 
 
 His couch the earth, his canopy the sky, 
 
 His curtain each wild breeze that rustles by, 
 
 And the bright stream in mountain freedom blest 
 
 The soothing symphony that lulls his rest. 
 
 In baldric broad, o'er his strong shoulder slung, 
 
 The quiver stor'd with deathful arrows hung ; 
 
 The bow of power adorn'd his better hand, 
 
 And grac'd his side Prometheus' battle-brand, 
 
 That still from sire to son descending, ne'er 
 
 From Mercy's eye had wrung th' indignant tear, 
 
 Nor law infring'd, or human or divine, 
 
 To stain or dim the lustre of its shine. 
 
 Firm was his step, yet buoyant as the tread 
 
 Of untam'd courser in the Desert bred : 
 
 And o'er the mould symmetric of his height 
 
 The eye still wander'd with untir'd delight : 
 
 In every free unfetter'd motion guess'd 
 
 The dauntless spirit and the guileless breast. 
 
 And in the massive brow, the kindling eye, 
 
 The air severe of innate majesty, 
 
 Perus'd some legend dim of days bygone 
 
 When still Earth's charms could tempt celestials down.
 
 CANTO III.] THE PILGRIMAGE. 63 
 
 Savage the scene Caucasian Wilds present : 
 Rocks that be mountains, clefts abysmal rent ; — 
 The torrent brawls in headlong fury on 
 'Twixt cliffs impervious to the noonday sun, 
 Whose firm foundations on Earth's nucleus rest, 
 Spann'd by the blue sky's vault, from crest to crest. 
 And on the Torrent's marge, where scatter'd spring 
 Tree, shrub, and wild-flower, scarce a living thing 
 Of animated Nature cheers the sense, 
 Aw'd by the sombre, drear magnificence 
 Of all around. The Rock-deer spurns a glen 
 So prison-like in his free, roving ken, 
 Hangs on the dizziest verge, and, streaking there 
 With his light form the azure fields of air, 
 Seems like a Mountain Spirit, gazing down 
 From some supernal empire of his own. 
 The shaggy Bear, sole monarch of that wild, 
 Loves well the haunts where seldom man hath smil'd, 
 Prowls in his surly indolence along, 
 Or, stretch'd luxurious the wild ferns among, 
 Where chance the sunbeam hath an entrance found, 
 Lulls his rude nature to the ruder sound
 
 64 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CAHTO III. 
 
 Of the hoarse torrent, or the woodland spell 
 Of some chance songster of that joyless dell. 
 
 Days, nights were laps'd, and months had roll'd away, 
 When the dark Euxine stretch'd beneath him lay — 
 A wide expanse of waters rolling free, 
 With mountains scarp'd of rude antiquity, 
 Down whose abrupt descent the forest dense 
 Leads, mass by mass, its wilderness immense 
 Of gloomy foliage, like some torrent wide 
 Headlong hurrying in its joyless pride 
 Down to the subject sea. Beneath the frown 
 Of this dark mountain pile, the waves roll on 
 In pitchy blackness ; but, where free to meet 
 The smiling Heaven, its azure soft they greet 
 With hue as pure, and mirror all its glow 
 In gleams that change for aye, as changeful breezes 
 blow. 
 
 That glorious prospect of the deep-blue sea 
 Burst on his gaze, as Freedom greets the free
 
 CANTO III.] THE PILGRIMAGE. 65 
 
 In heart and thought, whose limbs the chain hath 
 
 bound : 
 And, as his eye glanc'd thrillingly around, 
 Perus'd its measureless extent, to where 
 Faint trac'd like spirits of the upper air, 
 The mountain peaks of the far shore do rise, 
 By distance blent and mingled with the skies, — 
 Feelings, and thoughts, and memories, long subdued, 
 Rose on his soul and sent the sparkling blood 
 Swift thro' his glowing frame, until th' excess 
 Of that high rapture marr'd its blissfulness, 
 And o'er its bounds emotion's tide did rise 
 And gush'd ungovern'd from his streaming eyes. 
 
 What saw he there ? What saw Athena's son — 
 Her own unrivall'd, grace-arm'd Xenophon, 
 Her pride in eloquence, her boast in arms — 
 When mid barbaric hosts and dire alarms, 
 Thro' wilds beset with treachery, want, despond, 
 He led his exil'd band to Trebizond, 
 And climb 'd its height, and shouted, " 'Tis the Sea! 
 Our own blest home, our world of liberty ! " 
 
 5
 
 66 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO III. 
 
 Oh ! not one Greek of all th' illustrious band 
 
 Kiss'd the white pebbles of that wave-lash'd strand, 
 
 Nor bless'd the glad blue waters as they lay 
 
 In full collected majesty of sway, 
 
 With more of fervour, with so wild a sense 
 
 Of feeling's wealth at once and indigence, — 
 
 As he who now first gaz'd upon the deep 
 
 Laving the land where his Forefathers sleep, 
 
 And view'd in fancy their dim shades arise, 
 
 An awful band, beneath their kindred skies, 
 
 Treading the shores they rul'd ere Time wax'd gray, 
 
 Or Man, degenerate, loath'd their godlike sway. 
 
 END OF CANTO III.
 
 Canto IV. 
 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Mighty thy watch-towers, O thou castle-crown'd 
 Earth, our dread Mother ! Thence thou look'st on high 
 Into his azure eyes, whose arms around 
 Embrace thee still — thy love, thy spouse, the Sky : 
 He whose firm faith hath seen Eternity 
 Gliding like River to its parenl Main : 
 Thence thou behold'st each Star's unslumbering eye, 
 Watching thy loves, and hear'st thy cherish'd name 
 In every love-note breath'd by rolling Orbs of flame ! 
 
 5—2
 
 68 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 Himala's spires of sun-defying snow, 
 
 Gigantic Ancles' tunnell'd crests of fire, 
 
 Mont Blanc and Rosa of the hoary brow, 
 
 And Schreckhorn's peak, so lonely, wild, and dire, 
 
 Old Atlas, doom'd by Jove's relentless ire 
 
 To prop with stalwart strength Heaven's massive 
 
 dome, 
 Parnassus, ringing to the Day-god's lyre, 
 And vast Olympus, Jove's redoubted throne, 
 Yield all in might to thee, Elborus, weird and lone ! 
 
 For on thy savage rock Man's champion lay, 
 Chain'd in the Hell-born Furies' dire control : 
 Jove's vulture tore his quivering heart away, 
 And age-worn tempests did around him roll, 
 Heaping froze icebergs from the wintry Pole. 
 Yea, and Jove's thunder scath'd that awful brow, 
 Shook the firm mount, but not his firmer soul, 
 Which dread nor torture from its height could bow 
 While dismal ages slowly trail'd their mangled length of 
 woe.
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 69 
 
 'Twas the first gray of morn, ere Night is driven 
 From her last stronghold in the realms of Heaven, 
 When at Elborus' base the pilgrim stood, (5) 
 And upward gaz'd, and mass by mass pursued 
 Its rude unsoften'd outline, as on high 
 It swelling fill'd the concave of the sky : 
 A structure wondrous, whose least building-stone 
 Had tower'd a mountain, had it stood alone ; — 
 Whose firm cement the crudest atoms found 
 Of Chaos, when with fiery clasp the molten Earth he 
 bound ! 
 
 Hard is the toil that steepy Mount to climb, 
 Whose pathless bulwarks from undated time 
 Have hung in their immensity, unbeat 
 By pulse of human, — ay, of mortal feet. 
 Nature's wild flock that o'er the mountain stray, 
 And on each giddiest verge securely play, 
 View its vast highlands of the icy zone, 
 As a bleak world dissever'd from their own. 
 Between the clime where mountain flow'rets blow 
 And drear, void waste of everlasting snow,
 
 70 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 Naked the rock, save where the lichen springs, 
 And o'er tli' nnshelter'd waste its mantle flings : 
 Truest of friends, whom age or wintry blast 
 To her first love but rivets doubly fast. 
 
 Three days with mightiest toil Prometheus' son 
 That mountain scal'd ; nor yet the crest was won : 
 The slippery rock in vain his step defies, 
 The beetling cliff in vain a path denies ; 
 The deadly avalanche with thund'rous sway 
 Down-plunging sweeps the toppling crags away : 
 And now from Kazibek's twin peak of dread (6) 
 The mustering storm its cloudy legions spread, 
 Like some long flock of eagles, scenting far 
 The steam of carnage in the step of war. 
 Caught by Elborus' peak that cloudy host 
 Close-clinging wheel in eddying volumes toss'd, 
 Until a dense murk atmosphere they form, 
 Big with the gloom of the suspended storm. 
 
 Then burst at once the blinding levin-flash, 
 
 And hoarse-voic'd thunder's volleying peal and crash,
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 71 
 
 From rock and cliff and cavern's darkling side 
 
 Deflected, mutter'd, deepen'd, amplified : 
 
 Till the last note is but the shuddering jar 
 
 Of subterranean thunder, buried deep and far. 
 
 Then rush'd the Whirlwind in its giant pride 
 
 And stripp'd the snows from half the mountain side. 
 
 Part, like some boundless virgin pall, outspread 
 
 Hung in mid-air for many a league, and shed 
 
 Its shadow huge far o'er the affrighted coast: — 
 
 The denser hoards, their feathery footing lost, 
 
 Rush from the summit to the vale below, 
 
 Rending a rocky deluge as they go, 
 
 And, as the fire- scythe mows brown Autumn's grain, 
 
 Sweeping the crackling forest from the plain. 
 
 It chanc'd his foot at that dread moment press'd 
 A rock which, jutting from the mountain's breast, 
 With sides too steep to bear the feathery weight 
 Of the hoar snow, stood there in naked state. 
 Clinging like shipwreck'd seaman to the mast 
 On which hope, fortune, life itself are cast,
 
 72 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 He felt the Whirlwind as with Ocean might 
 Heave its swoll'n tides against the Heaven-built height ; 
 He saw the Mountain-mantle caught on high 
 With snowy chaos blot earth, sun, and sky ; 
 And felt the pinnacle his arms entwine 
 Reel wild as giant surfeited with wine : 
 Proof-arm 'd by zeal 'gainst terror mid a shock 
 That marr'd Heaven's vault and rent Earth's adamantine 
 rock. 
 
 Now, bold Adventurer, speed thee ! Dost not mark 
 How from the bosom of yon tempest dark, 
 That seem'd so big with ruin, Hope hath sprung, 
 And Safety prov'd the birth of throes which wrung 
 The elemental World ? Oh ! speed thee on 
 The path which Whirlwinds have before thee gone 
 T' uproot th' impending avalanche and sweep 
 Each various death from that inviolate Steep. 
 Oh ! speed thee ! What be toil and peril now ? 
 Thy foot is planted on the Mount whose brow- 
 Is hallow'd to thy fancy ? Once again 
 Spread to the steep thy chest and tensely strain
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 73 
 
 Each agile nerve. Enough, the height is won, 
 Thy hope fulfilled, thy mighty labour done, 
 And thy full heart and raptur'd mind may seek 
 Relief from thoughts that thrill and blanch thy storm-worn 
 cheek ! 
 
 Now at the crag he stands of loftiest height, 
 Around whose waist their zone the heavens unite. 
 Rent downward to the base by recent shock 
 Of the live thunder stood that splinter'd rock 
 In hoary solitude, and round its base 
 Distinct appear'd the Lightning's fiery trace, 
 Where the snow crust, abraded, gave to light 
 A cliff, long ages buried out of sight. 
 
 Cramp'd in the rock by thunders bar'd to sight 
 Four massive stanchions plant their fangs of might, — 
 Upholding each its chain of virgin gold, 
 Forg'd as for limbs of more than mortal mould. 
 The heavy volumes, thence descending, bind 
 With mockery vain th' impassive mountain wind :
 
 74 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 For he, tli' illustrious victim, he whose fate, 
 Whose matchless woes that mountain consecrate, 
 Free as his own unconquer'd spirit proved, 
 Hath found the freedom and the truth he lov'd, — 
 Long since enfranchis'd from each mortal pain, 
 Man's hate perfidious and ignoble chain. 
 And the poor wrecks of that once glorious form 
 Feel not the gyves, nor chill beneath the storm, — 
 Writhe not as stoops the Eagle to his prey, 
 Or, soaring, rends the quivering heart away. 
 
 What eye could gaze on those dread relics cast 
 E'en where th' illustrious victim breath'd his last, 
 On those ennobling chains, that granite stone, 
 Which saw his torture, echoed back the moan 
 Wrung from an agonized heart that still 
 Preserv'd inviolate the dauntless will, — 
 Nor one repentant, one reproachful thought 
 Deign'd to the pangs his coward foes had wrought ; 
 What heart unmov'd such memories could sustain, 
 What eye glance cold o'er that recording chain ?
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 75 
 
 Absorb'd in deepest musing, Night had grown 
 O'er the wide world and round that summit lone, 
 Ere Dion mark'd its progress. Cold and bright, 
 Unlike the aspect of an Earthly night, 
 So pure each planet, so undimm'd the sky, 
 So phosphor-clear the snowy hoards that lie 
 Immeasurably spread, reflecting fair 
 Each wandering ray that lights bewilder'd there, — 
 It rather seem'd some holiest twilight, made 
 Of each soft shaded light and lustrous shade. 
 Such ray impearls the Mermaid's deep abode 
 Beneath old Ocean's boundless crystal flood ; 
 Or binds the treachery of its chaste control 
 Round the waste circle of the icy Pole. 
 
 He felt his peril, as subsided slow, 
 
 Chill'd by the blast, his warm heart's vital glow, 
 
 And delving with his sword beneath the snow 
 
 A cavernous retreat, around him roll'd 
 
 His cloak of felt in many an ample fold. 
 
 Prepar'd beside th' untomb'd remains to keep 
 
 His hallow'd vigil on that haunted Steep. 

 
 76 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 It fell, that awful Night. O'er Dion's soul 
 
 Its tide mysterious did resistless roll, 
 
 Heaving its shapeless thoughts and phantoms dire 
 
 In billowy depths of mingled gloom and fire. 
 
 The past, the present, things familiar grown, 
 
 Objects of reason or of sense, were none, — 
 
 Or but existent dimly to express 
 
 The power, th' extent of that vast Nothingness. 
 
 Yet 'twas not darkness. He had hailed the NiMit 
 
 To quench in utter gloom his o'erstrain'd sight : 
 
 Shapes half develop'd fill his baffled eye, 
 
 Then crumbling join the murk profundity. 
 
 Nature seem'd all inverted. Mightiest war, 
 
 The toil, the terror, the terrific jar 
 
 Of all her struggling powers, Earth, Ocean, Sky 
 
 Roll'd weltering round in maddest revelry. 
 
 And thro' the turmoil, thro' the giddy shock 
 
 And whirl and dissonance of Powers that rock 
 
 The Universal System to its base, 
 
 There crept upon his soul the sickening trace,
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 77 
 
 The trail abhorr'd of an all-blighting thought, 
 
 That this vast power and toil and strife were 
 
 wrought 
 By and for nought. And then the thunders took 
 The loath'd idea : the murky welkin shook 
 To its deep-mutter'd murmur ; and th' Abyss 
 Gave back the serpent thought in one long hiss 
 Of fiendish mockery. And on th' inverted eye 
 A shape of blindness, madness, mystery, 
 Rose o'er Heaven's mighty wreck : and while Despair 
 Blew like the icy North, freezing whate'er 
 Of life remain'd, the yelling dissonance 
 To attributes supreme link'd the blind name of Chance. 
 
 The tumult deaden'd ; the o'ertravail'd mind 
 Sank into stupor, stunn'd, exhausted, blind 
 With th' ungovern'd strife : and like the weak 
 And sickly growth of Morn's distemper'd streak, 
 Along the lurid Heavens, thought backward trail'd 
 Its languid twilight length and strugglingly prevail'd.
 
 78 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 Dark forms were round him, shadowy shapes and vast, 
 
 The awful spirits of th' unfathom'd Past, , 
 
 In whose compare hoar Saturn's ancient sway (7) 
 
 Seems but the brief vain dream of yesterday. 
 
 The vasty Deep, the measureless Abyss, 
 
 Eternity's dark Realm, the Wilderness 
 
 Of Doubt and Error — each had hither sent 
 
 Its spirit envoy, whose dread form, unbent 
 
 By Immortality's dire burden, bears 
 
 With princely ease th' infinitude of years 
 
 Since Time from Order grew. Around they stood 
 
 A silent group, as pondering deep the flood 
 
 Of Past and Future. It relief had been 
 
 Their voice to hear, tlio' terrible as when 
 
 Conflicting thunders shout, or direr far 
 
 Heaves from Earth's womb convuls'd th' intestine jar. 
 
 But they stand silent all. What make they here 
 
 With their stern eyes fixt motionless and drear 
 
 On that blood-hallow'd rock ? Joy they to trace 
 
 His woes, who shook their Empire to its base, 
 
 Or homage to that mightier Spirit own ?
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 79 
 
 m 
 
 Long had he gaz'd, ere conscious there was grown 
 
 From the dim mists which shroud that fateful spot 
 
 Another form and diverse. Those had not 
 
 One feature common to the human Race : 
 
 Each seem'd th' embodiment of thoughts that trace 
 
 Their being to the twilight of the soul. 
 
 But he who, now uprising, claim'd control 
 
 Of Dion's rapt attention, seem'd design'd 
 
 Th' ennobled type and sovereign of mankind. 
 
 Such the sublimity his port express'd, 
 
 That brow in calm, majestic suffering drest, 
 
 That eye's unfathom'd depth. Yet seem'd he worn 
 
 By woes the Mightiest only could have borne. 
 
 Oh ! when is might so mighty as in woe ? 
 
 Oh ! where is majesty, save on the brow 
 
 That suffers all unbent ; rend'ring again 
 
 The meek defiance of a high disdain, 
 
 Calm towering, like Heaven's star-ennobled height, 
 
 O'er Pain's worst torment, Fortune's black despite? 
 
 It was relief on that calm brow to gaze, 
 
 The sight to fill with those all-glorious traits,
 
 80 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 Blending in harmonies that recompose 
 Th' unsettled fabric of the mind ; like those 
 Which, heard on old Sigseum's haunted shore, 
 The wind bore mingled with the billows' roar, 
 While shapeless rocks to fair proportions grown 
 Round Ilium bind th' insuperable zone. (8) 
 Dim wan'd the forms. Exhausted Fancy's sight 
 Was clos'd or prison'd by succeeding Night ; 
 Yet not until that glorious one had blest 
 With smile approving Dion's grateful breast. 
 
 Tis morn. Earth wak'd to radiance bright and warm 
 
 Shakes off the mists that shroud her glowing form ; 
 
 Which, part dissolv'd in Ether's flood decay, 
 
 Part roll majestic like dim ghosts away, 
 
 Surpris'd by Morning's waft. The World beneath 
 
 Bursts into life renew'd from transient Death ; 
 
 Hearts that lay down in heaviness arise, 
 
 Blithe as the lark that warbling swims the skies — 
 
 Like him to that blue vault uplift the voice 
 
 Of a tun'd heart, and in their strength rejoice.
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 81 
 
 The hill, the vale, the blue unfathom'd Deep, 
 
 Sprent those with dew, this smiling out of sleep 
 
 As the young Breeze comes dancing o'er his breast ; 
 
 Each, all in new, untarnish'd beauty drest, 
 
 To eye, to ear, to each rapt sense outpour 
 
 Their boundless bliss, glow, sparkle, and adore. 
 
 And Dion's vigil ceas'd. That hallow'd rock 
 Where the great Victim triumph'd o'er the shock 
 Of more than mortal woe, seem'd first to claim 
 As deathless monument of his high fame 
 Prometheus' relics. But the granite height 
 Uncloth'd of soil, unyielding to the might 
 Of Dion's sword, his pious wish defy : 
 The rock he searches with attentive eve, 
 Enters a cleft by recent thunder rent, 
 Abruptly plunging by a sheer descent 
 Into a cavern rude, the work entire 
 Of ancient Chaos' all-subduing fire. 
 There, decently compos'd, Earth's sacred breast 
 Recciv'd the bones of her great Son to rest ;
 
 82 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 And he, whose spirit was to earth allied 
 
 But in the bond which mightiest love supplied, 
 
 'Twixt Heav'n his birthplace and the Earth he strove 
 
 To rivet closer to that Heaven by love, — 
 
 Here, where blue ether and th' extremest trace 
 
 Of earth meet, mincrling in a chaste embrace, 
 
 Has back to Earth restor'd what claim soe'er 
 
 She in his birthright with the Heavens might share. 
 
 His task complete, with peril all renew'd 
 
 The downward path Prometheus' son pursued 
 
 With lighten'd heart, but toil-enduring frame, 
 
 The torch of Heaven had twice relum'd its flame 
 
 And yet again was kindling, when his feet 
 
 Press'd the slope bounds where vale and mountain 
 
 meet, — 
 The roots gigantic by that summit hurl'd 
 Deep mid the bowels of the groaning world. 
 His eye distent t' embrace the vision vast 
 Of mount o'er mountain rude confus'dly cast, 
 His thoughts, his spirit, from their converse late 
 With more than mortal company, elate,
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 83 
 
 He held his downward way, in pensive mood, 
 Unconscious of th' assembled multitude 
 His foot was nearing ; nor that he was grown 
 The focus whither all-converging shone 
 Ten thousand glances : till the clangor loud 
 Of mountain cornet and the shouting crowd 
 Each wandering sense recall'd with sudden start 
 That forc'd life's current back upon the heart. 
 
 Close at his feet, outspread beneath his sight, 
 Where the Mount's undules and the plain unite, 
 A people's might lay gather'd, swelling wide, 
 Countless as foam-globes of old Ocean's tide. 
 It was a sight most startling, in the mood 
 Begot by Nature's sternest solitude, 
 By sights and sounds combining to declare 
 That mortal step was all-unwonted there, 
 At once in presence of mankind to stand, 
 The birth Cadmaean of the teeming Land. 
 
 s 
 
 But what that shout? What mean those bended knees. 
 Those clouds of incense wafted by the breeze, 
 
 6—2
 
 84 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 What those triumphant strains ? From side to side 
 
 His glance shot restless thro' the concourse wide. 
 
 All eyes concentrate their keen rays in one, 
 
 All voices, gestures thither tend alone ; 
 
 Himself the mark of all. Incredulous still 
 
 He searches o'er and o'er the teeming hill, 
 
 But meets no rival there. 
 
 " My fellow men—" 
 'Twas thus he spake, and Echo peal'd again 
 From crag and cliff the jubilant accord 
 Of welcome proffer'd to his op'ning word : 
 " Whence this vast concourse ? What concernment 
 
 deep 
 Leads forth a Nation to this haunted Steep, 
 O'erpeopling thus the desolate domain 
 Where mountain Spirits hold their silent reign ? 
 And why on me those looks of wonder bent ? 
 And what the purport of the shouts that rent 
 Th' empyreal concave ? Is it strange to see 
 A mortal, burden'd with humanity ? 
 Or come ye forth, as came your Sires of yore, 
 Prometheus' blood to honour and adore,
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 85 
 
 Then foully shed, and into exile chase 
 Each lingering scion of his kingly race ? 
 If such your will, in happy hour ye come, 
 And Fate hath led my exil'd footstep home 
 In hour opportune : nor know I a plea 
 Why he should suffer and myself be free, 
 Who share (oh ! were I worthier) in the tide 
 Of his rich blood, his sorrows and his pride, 
 And who, my task fulfill'd, his great remains 
 To Earth's embrace to render from the chains 
 By little hands impos'd, stand free to close 
 My sacred birthright in his mighty woes.' 
 
 Scarce had he paus'd ere, rising wild and high, 
 A Nation's shout of triumph rent the sky : 
 " Hail the pure blood of our anointed kings ! 
 All hail the sacred Providence that brine's 
 Our own great line of heroes back to sway 
 The realm whose grandeur pal'd in their decay. 
 Hail to our King ! our great Deliv'rer see ! 
 Hail Freedom's dawn, Day-star of liberty !
 
 86 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 Thrice rose that shout : but when in Freedom's name 
 'Twas shap'd and syllabled, the struggling flame 
 Of liberty, so long o'erborne, represt, 
 Burst, a volcanic lire-flood from each breast, 
 With shout so terrible, that from on high 
 The bird of Jove, dim wheeling thro' the sky (9) 
 Fell stunn'd to Earth at Dion's feet and lay 
 Gasping in sobs the breath of life away. 
 
 That portent new inflames the wondering throng ; 
 Their shouts redouble. Had Prometheus sprung 
 To life where stands his offspring, their delight 
 And triumph scarce had soar'd a loftier flight, 
 Nor had his awful Form with dread imprest 
 Or deeper reverence each devoted breast. 
 " A present miracle," they shout, they cry ; 
 " Heaven seals and signs her ancient prophecy — 
 The victor vanquish'd, the oppressor slain, 
 The mighty victim call'd to life again 
 From his long trance, his awful, star-watch'd sleep 
 Of hoar, dim ages on the snow-clad steep.
 
 CANTO IV.] THE VIGIL. 87 
 
 The beak, his sacred suffering form that tore, 
 The eye suffus'd and redden'd in his gore, 
 The wing that flapp'd insulting that dread brow, 
 Lie at his feet, clos'd, powerless in their woe. 
 Bring forth the crown and sceptre never stain'd 
 By tyrant's touch, dread symbols unprofan'd, 
 Which Earth, aye mindful of her solemn trust, 
 Had sacred held with her Promethean dust : 
 Till ripe the hour, an Earthquake's might restor'd 
 The dread regalia for their rightful Lord." 
 
 Forth at the word, disparting from the throng, 
 The heralds file in marshall'd rank and long ; 
 Compass with stately pace the sacred ground, 
 Earth's quadrate aspects linking in their round : 
 Then at his feet the crown and sceptre lay, 
 And would his form in purple robes array. 
 But Dion stay'd them. 
 
 " Fathers, chiefs, forbear ; 
 Not mine the brow this diadem to wear. 
 Tho' dread Prometheus' blood this bosom warm, 
 His rightful heir, a Maid of matchless form
 
 88 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 And peerless mind, with every grace array'd. — 
 In exile nurtur'd dwells the sacred Maid. 
 Shout high her name, all ye who love the sway 
 Of great Prometheus : him in her obey : 
 ' Indra, Prometheus' Daughter.' Yet once more 
 And once again, till Ocean's billowy shore 
 Catch the glad tidings as their murmurs reach 
 His breakers, battling with the surf-sown beach." 
 
 Thus shouted high the ever-wavering crowd, 
 
 Pleas'd to reverse a choice so late avow'd : 
 
 " Indra, our queen, our queen ! " But, as the sound 
 
 Ceas'd, mid the echoing crags and gulphs profound, 
 
 And nodding forest, other murmurs ran 
 
 Thro' that vast concourse, toss'd from man to man — 
 
 " Prometheus' Daughter in a land afar, 
 
 Who shall our host lead forth to instant war ? 
 
 Who guide in peace a people sworn to own 
 
 The sway of great Prometheus' race alone ? 
 
 Thou must our sceptre bear : 'tis Heaven's decree, 
 
 By portent clear and ancient prophecy.
 
 CANTO IT.] THE VIGIL. 89 
 
 Our new-born rights thy fostering aid demand, 
 Our sword, our sceptre, court thy ready hand. 
 Raise thou our crown ; our king, our captain be ; 
 Firm fixt our choice, and we will none but thee." 
 
 " Friends, whom the pitying HeaTens this hour restore 
 With my dread Fathers' tombs, old Ocean's solemn roar, 
 Gladly the truncheon proffer'd to my hand 
 In Indra's name I grasp : the chief command 
 Of your Battalia, and beneath her throne 
 The helm of State, until she claim her own. 
 In her renew'd Prometheus' self ye'll find, 
 Hers his high virtues, hers his God-like mind. 
 Each power, each gift of that anointed Race, 
 Prometheus' genius, Maia's * matchless grace ; — 
 Until return'd the sacred Maiden claim 
 That throne, that diadem ; in her great name 
 I guard, defend them, with your loyal might, 
 Your hearts and hands, and Heaven to back the right." 
 
 * Maia was daughter of Atlas, and niece of Prometheus ; she was one 
 of the Hesperides.
 
 90 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IV. 
 
 He ceas'd, and joyful, jubilant assent, 
 From Earth to Heaven the shouting myriads sent, 
 From Heaven to Earth reverbing. Forth to view 
 Disparting from the crowd each captain drew 
 His martial cohort — Men in training new, 
 Unskill'd as yet the changeful front to yield 
 For each dire mystery of th' embattled field ; 
 But nurs'd in hardship, well inur'd to bear 
 Extremes alternate of the changeful year, 
 The Dogstar's fervor and the icing chill 
 Of midnight watches on the wintry hill ; 
 Stern, iron Men, the mountain's hardy birth, 
 Whom in her fever-fit plethoric Earth 
 Sends forth, her veins of their fierce throb to free, 
 With specious watchwords arm'd, " Truth, Justice, 
 Liberty." 
 
 In crescent form array'd their phalanx rude 
 Bristling with spears in breathless silence stood ; 
 Then forth at once each flaming blade was drawn, 
 Dazzling the Day-star of the early dawn,
 
 CANTO IV.l THE VIGIL. 91 
 
 And sternly wav'd on high o'er each flush'd brow, 
 Then prest, in plight of his inviolate vow, 
 To each rude warrior's lips. No tumult then, 
 No shout of triumph rose from those stern men ; 
 But a deep murmur, like the sudden jar, 
 Mysterious, given by Ocean from afar 
 On the still hush of Night, when far and wide 
 Calm lies each billow slumbering in its pride, 
 And Ocean's might reposing, mortals form 
 No thought unquiet of th' impending Storm. 
 
 No arms of proof array'd that hardy Band, 
 
 The brow no helm, the throat no gorget spann'd, 
 
 Each bore the various weapon zeal supplies 
 
 To ready hands and new-born energies : 
 
 The spear with which the savage bear is bay'd, 
 
 The tough horn bow, the legend-haunted blade ; 
 
 Yet tho' no corslet flam'd upon the breast, 
 
 No nodding plume their martial zeal express'd, 
 
 A symbol worthier far the vows they swear; — 
 
 Look to the kindling eye, flush'd cheek, 'tis there.
 
 92 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IT. 
 
 Theirs the tried mail impervious to the dart, 
 Th' ethereal temper of a dauntless heart. 
 
 All this mark'd Dion, as with martial pride, 
 From rank to rank his kindling glances glide, 
 Girt with that throng of kindred hearts and hands, 
 On his own soil, beneath the shade he stands 
 Of that thrice-hallow'd Mount His own dark Sea, 
 His Fathers' tombs, home, country, Liberty 
 At once restor'd. The thought his bosom fir'd, 
 Breath'd thro' his frame, his glowing tongue inspir'd 
 With more than human eloquence. They saw, 
 That throng, his step majestic ; with deep awe 
 Hung, breathless, on his speech. The visible form 
 Of worshipp'd virtue, vigorous, youthful, warm, 
 Mov'd, breath'd before them. Earth an aspect new 
 Of fadeless verdure wore : the sky more blue, 
 Old Ocean fuller, mightier seem'd to be ; 
 Earth's golden Age renew'd Truth, Justice, Purity. 
 
 END OF CANTO IV.
 
 Canto V. 
 THE QUEST. 
 
 " Look forth upon the night, my child. How shine 
 The starry Heavens, that page of power Divine ? 
 Is Day's last beam extinct, Love, in the West ? 
 Sighs the night -breeze, or folds its wing in rest ? 
 And turn thee now, thy gaze to Eastward bend, 
 Mark well the aspect of high Demawend : 
 For if, unshrouded by the mist, his brow 
 May in the stars' collective radiance glow, 
 And my foreboding yet may be beguil'd : 
 What be the portents of the Night, my child ? "
 
 94 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 " Clear is the sky, the evening Breeze at rest, 
 All sounds be hush'd upon the mountain breast, 
 The stars shine each in his appointed sphere, 
 Bright as tho' Heaven had fram'd without a tear 
 The destinies they guard. The Day-star's track 
 Night hath effac'd beneath her pinion black : 
 But far away to Eastward clearly rise, 
 Trac'd o'er the darken'd canvas of the skies, 
 The thousand years that blanch but may not bend 
 The brow sublime of star-choir'd Demawend. 
 And now uprising o'er his mass there glows 
 A spot, a speck of brilliance ; — still it grows, 
 Flinging its ray of ruddy light afar : 
 How redly rises Eve's effulgent star ! 
 It rises not. It lingers on the crest 
 Of that hoar mount, and while its glories rest, 
 Like beacon-flames pii'd o'er the cresting snow, 
 A blood-red tide floods all the World below." 
 
 " 'Tis the dread summons, Indra. Ne'er again 
 Thy Mother rises from her couch of pain.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 95 
 
 Yon beacon ne'er its lurid radiance gave 
 But one more victim fill'd Prometheus' grave. 
 I feel — have felt it — cold around my heart, 
 The coil of death. Life flutters to depart : 
 Yet, ere Eternity's dread voy'ge she try, 
 Feels the wing falter and the courage die. 
 O slavish Fear, most vile of all that swell 
 Our spirits' hostile ranks, thy funeral knell 
 Palsies each Virtue with its fatal tone, 
 Curdling the heart's warm life-tide into stone. 
 
 " Death, name of mystery, still from Reason's morn 
 Thy shadowy yoke my servile neck hath borne. 
 Now that thy form in closest view doth stand, 
 Now that I feel thy cold, remorseless hand 
 Send the ice-chill of torpor thro' my frame, 
 What buoys my spirit, as on wings of flame ? 
 Oh ! 'tis a hope I ne'er had deem'd to know, 
 Whose cloud-wrapp'd Heaven gloom'd black without 
 
 a bow — 
 A hope that, like some glorious insect springing 
 To life and beauty from the cerements clinging
 
 96 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 Round her pent form, leaves Earth's cold grave to rise 
 And bask, henceforth, in sunshine of the skies." 
 
 " Friend, mother, guide, my guardian from the morn 
 Of helpless, thankless infancy, when borne 
 In those lov'd arms, at that revered breast, 
 Thy voice my spirit calm'd, thy lips caress'd : 
 When thou wert all of Heaven on Earth to me, 
 And my vain self was all Earth's care for thee : 
 Sweet Mother, hush thee ; thy deep woes have weigh'd 
 Thy spirit down beneath their baleful shade, 
 And thro' the gloom-haze of the past appears 
 The future, burden'd with remember'd tears. 
 Oh ! well I trust far distant that sad hour — 
 Remote from thee Death's dark and envious power, 
 Whose "victim, not the taken, but the heart 
 Left pining, crush'd, forbidden to depart." 
 
 " Draw nigh, my child ; oh ! think not 'tis in vain 
 I seek to warn thee of approaching pain. 
 My spirit ebbs apace ; my labouring breast 
 Scarce heaves its sickening burden of unrest ;
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 97 
 
 My sight is clouded. Nearer press thy face, 
 That I may see thee, feel thy sweet embrace ; 
 That thy blest image be the last of sight : 
 For other forms are crowding ; ancient Night 
 Hath set his captives free. Dost thou not view 
 Their dusky forms, a sad and silent crew ? 
 How slow, how solemn ! Ever thus they grace 
 The dying couch of our devoted race. 
 Dost thou not mark them, Indra ? " 
 
 " Nought I see, 
 Blest Friend, of none think, hope, but only thee." 
 
 " Heaven grant thou do not — Heaven preserve thy mind 
 From the dark gloom of horror, which I find 
 Slow creeping o'er mine own. Yet is there one : 
 Thou canst not but behold him. 'Tis thine own 
 Blest Sire. O thou, my soul's love, joy, and pride, 
 Lord of my youthful vows, I did abide 
 Long, long ; for thee have mourn'd, and wept, and 
 
 pray'd ; 
 Dreatn'd thou wert nigh, till garish morn bewray'd 
 
 7
 
 98 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 The bitter counterfeit, and caus'd me lay 
 
 My malison of misery on the day 
 
 And bless the pitying night. And thou art come 
 
 In thy majestic beauty : to thy home 
 
 Of sacred rest will bear me. We will dwell 
 
 For evermore in peace, with none to quell 
 
 The fulness of our joy. Ay ! mark her well, 
 
 'Tis thine own babe : thy soften'd image see, 
 
 Glaucon, thyself — hope born in form of thee. 
 
 Why look'st thou sad ? Shall we not thither bear 
 
 Our peaceful babe, where Heavens be alway fair, 
 
 And Man betrays not, not existing there ? 
 
 See how she smiles on thee with love benign ! 
 
 My Glaucon, take her to thy heart and sign 
 
 A father's blessing- o'er her. Even now 
 
 Her rosy lips are struggling to avow 
 
 How well she loves thee. She will tell thee all 
 
 Her little dreams, and one by one recall 
 
 Her innocent, pure thoughts. Wilt thou not give 
 
 Thy heart of hearts to hear her, to receive 
 
 Her sweet disclosures ? Ah ! I dream'd of woe — 
 
 Of long, drear wretchedness ; — that thou wert low,
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 99 
 
 My bosom Lord, in manhood's prime o'erta'en 
 
 By torture, death, too terrible to name. 
 
 And years of mortal suffering were past by, 
 
 Years of the heart's slow, wasting misery : 
 
 And our sweet babe, like some rich pearl, was grown 
 
 A mine of beauty on a shore unknown ; 
 
 Smiling in purity of grace to bless 
 
 The bleak, wreck'd rocks, strown round in wretchedness, 
 
 To bless, to gladden — Thee ? her sire ? — Ah, no ! 
 
 An orphan's doom was seal'd on her fair brow. 
 
 " And one was sent, — not thou, but of thy race, 
 Of' princely form like thine, and awful grace; 
 Who with his wizard harp and minstrel sway 
 Wil'd our young Indra's destin'd lord away. 
 And then came Death, the last terrific foe, 
 Despair and gloom the burden of his brow ; 
 He stretch'd his pall of horror o'er my sight, 
 And drown'd my spirit in excess of night : 
 And I had perish'd ; — but an angel form 
 Came, smiling peace, where all foreboded storm. 
 
 7—2
 
 100 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 Her fair hand rent that curtain of despair ; 
 Her sweet voice harmoniz'd the jarring air: 
 Her smile won entry to the heart's dark core. 
 The blind depths own'd it and were dark no more. 
 Her finger pointed me to realms above. — 
 I look'd. This seraph wore thy traits of love. 
 It was our babe, our little one, whom thou 
 Fold'st in thine arms ; the same her angel brow : 
 But she was grown in beauty, and her eyes 
 Were deep suffus'd with mysteries of the skies. 
 A winged seraph she. But thou art come — 
 My dream is ended — my dread slumber done. 
 Ah ! what if life be but a feverish trance 
 Whose waking is eternity ? Thy glance 
 Decays — is fading. Yet one moment stay, 
 While our blest babe I more securely lay 
 Within my bosom clasp. I follow thee, 
 I follow follow " 
 
 Softly, languidly 
 She drew her circling arms around her child, 
 Gaz'd up to Heav'n, then back on her, and smil'd ;
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 101 
 
 And by that clasp relaxing Indra knew, 
 
 And by the fixing eye and traits that grew 
 
 So sudden still'd in quietude of rest, 
 
 That life had parted from the fond, warm breast 
 
 That long was wont to throb for her alone. 
 
 Death ! Death, thou stern destroyer ! many an 
 
 one 
 Thy ruthless hand hath stricken ; but thou ne'er 
 Didst sever bond more precious or more fair ; 
 Didst never leave so helpless in her woe 
 The sad survivor of thy murderous blow. 
 There still was eye of fellow -mortal near, 
 Some pitying heart, some voice to fill the ear 
 If but with jarring note ; some tongue to say, 
 Thou art not yet an utter castaway. 
 Thou mayst go forth, unshunn'd, untaunted go, 
 No brand of outlawry on thy lone brow, 
 By reason of thy misery. Yea ! still 
 Mayst thou partake the sunbeam, breeze, and rill 
 Untax'd of trespass, since not yet thou'rt thrown 
 On Man's chill pity, heart-wreck'd and alone.
 
 102 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 Night was around her, and the Dead. There lay 
 
 A hush of dreadful stillness with the ray 
 
 Of the faint taper, that with sickly light 
 
 Spent its vain mockery on the void of Night. 
 
 Those arms, around her neck so fondly twin'd, 
 
 Seem'd, e'en in death, reluctant to unwind, 
 
 Resisted still the gentle force she tried, 
 
 For they were stiff'ning with life's icing tide. 
 
 She gaz'd on those still features : through and 
 
 through 
 She read the scroll of memory spread to view 
 In their lov'd lineaments. Ah ! who shall tell 
 What floods of hallow'd thought the bosom swell 
 At each sweet dream of her who from life's morn 
 Hath been the angel of our peace, hath borne 
 Heaven's law of love to man. Of her, in whom 
 We first believ'd of bliss beyond the tomb, — 
 When to her bosom clasp'd, all earthly woes 
 Were hush'd to rapture of the soul's repose, 
 And cares and griefs that threaten'd to endure 
 Through life ebb'd softly with the staunching tear.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 103 
 
 Ah ! who shall tell ? For there is once on earth 
 
 An hour more woe -fraught than man's storm v 
 
 birth : 
 Tis when, dissevered from the womb once more, 
 Cast by the wave receding on life's shore, 
 Our early race of sanguine fancy run, 
 Our fairy voy'ge of hope and sunshine done, 
 Our buoyancy impair'd, and many a rent, 
 Torn by the brunt of hostile element, 
 To wreck our healthful confidence, we may, 
 Perchance, tempt once again life's stormy way ; 
 But never, never, wheresoe'er we roam, 
 Return to sunshine, happiness, and home. 
 
 Thus lay Prometheus' daughter, till the star 
 That rose with eve had culminated far 
 In th' ethereal concave. Sorrow-drown'd, 
 Cold as the arms enclasping her around, 
 She lay. But now the portal's sullen jar 
 Call'd her lost thoughts and memory from afar, 
 As solemn, entering, vision-like, appear'd 
 A form from childhood's earliest dawn rever'd,
 
 104 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 The sage who'd watch'd her virtues' germs to twine 
 
 And train each tendril to a branch divine ; 
 
 The kind, the meek, the gentle, the sincere, 
 
 Born without guile; the man whose blameless tear 
 
 For others shed in worth transcended far 
 
 The spoils that tempt a greedy world to war. 
 
 His once tall form by weight of years deprest ; 
 
 His eye, that beam'd the fervour of a breast 
 
 In sorrow school'd, yet fruitful to th' o'erflow 
 
 Of joy divine and love to all below : 
 
 That form approach'd, bent o'er her, and that eye 
 
 Pour'd forth the soul of tenderest sympathy. 
 
 " Father, whence, wherefore art thou come ? " 
 
 The mild 
 Old man replied : " Thou called'st me, my child." 
 " Alas ! I call'd thee not, nor e'en in thought 
 Left this dread couch. Heaven's grace alone hath 
 
 brought 
 Thy blessed step." 
 
 " My child, thine accents broke 
 My midnight slumber ; but or e'er I woke,
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 105 
 
 Thy voice was silent and thy form was gone. 
 I rose and hasted hither, for thy tone 
 Jarr'd as in sorrow on my trembling heart. 
 And yet I guess'd not 'twas so sad a part 
 Thou called'st me to fill." 
 
 He said. Anon 
 Hath loos'd the clasping arms around her thrown, — 
 That lifeless form compos'd to decent rest, 
 And rais'd a sacred anthem o'er the blest 
 Who die in peace ; and solemnly consign'd 
 To Heaven's kind care that woe-distracted mind ; — 
 Then Indra's ear and soul, deep-stricken, fed 
 With healing balm, the praises of the dead ; 
 Prob'd the crush'd wound with kind, but searching art, 
 Till the numb'd tides well'd freely from the heart, 
 Till the deep healing gush of tears held sway 
 With might that hurried deadlier thrall away. 
 
 Three days to grief were giv'n. The early ray 
 Of the fourth morn scarce found its golden way 
 Through Indra's casement, when the orphan maid, 
 From slumber ris'n, her beauteous form array'd
 
 106 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 In minstrel garb, look'cl round, with watery eye, 
 On scenes rever'd from earliest infancy, 
 Sacred to household joys and memories dear, 
 Love's glance, Hope's promise, Sorrow's hallowing tear. 
 
 " O scenes of childhood, innocence, and glee, 
 My home that was, and never more must be ! 
 She, who a daughter sty I'd herself of late, 
 Leaves her heart's blessing at thy sacred gate. 
 Blest be thy threshold, hearth, and circling wall ! 
 Blest while they stand, and hallow'd in their fall 
 Beneath the hand of Time, before the blast 
 Of mountain storm that, erst unheeded, pass'd 
 While pilgrims bless'd the ever-open gate. 
 Farewell ! thou art not half 50 desolate 
 As the lone heart that mourns thee. Past the 
 
 gleam 
 That sunn'd us both ; our bliss a vanish'd dream. 
 But mine ! — and yet I envy not thy lot 
 To stand deserted on this haunted spot, 
 When all that gave it grace and life are gone, 
 And thou a stranger at thine own hearthstone.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. lO" 
 
 Farewell, sad refuge of my sires ! this heart 
 
 Must burst — is breaking : thus and thus we part ! " 
 
 She dar'd not trust her eye, her memory more : 
 She left the threshold, clos'd the sacred door. 
 What dread may daunt the soul o'er woe elate ? 
 The wreck'd in heart are paramount to fate ; 
 The sands that meted out youth's bliss are run, 
 Indra's sad pilgrimage of Life begun. 
 
 And what her purpose ? Whither would she go 
 Alone through this bleak world of strife and woe ? 
 Of woman born art thou, and need'st to know. 
 The bee her thymy pasture knows ; the flower \ 
 Her lover lord and his appointed hour : \ 
 
 The Breeze, Aurora's rose-encluster'd bower ; > 
 
 The exil'd Dove, her prison'd wing set free, 
 Knows but one end of her glad liberty : 
 Spring knows her own betroth 'd and plighted star ; 
 And e'en the Tempest, whose fierce love is war, 
 Knows when Orion riseth. And shall she 
 Whose bosom Love hath sanctified, to be
 
 108 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 His heaven-born fire's most pure and hallow'd fane, 
 List the low pleading of his voice in vain ? 
 
 Yes ! when the Dove her gentle home forswears ; 
 Yes ! when Aurora sheds forsaken tears ; 
 Ay, when the Bee her thymy bank shall shun ; 
 When the Rose-petals close against the Sun ; 
 When, at the rising of her star, no more 
 Spring, laughing, wakes her flower-germs as before ; 
 When fierce Orion, tyrant of the sky, 
 Calls his wild hurricanes and none reply ; 
 When Nature's laws, upturn'd, inverted lie, 
 And, saddest, wreck'd sweet Woman's purity ; 
 Then Love may plead, — plead in his low, deep tone, 
 Yet find his might decay'd, his reign of triumph 
 done. 
 
 Beyond the garden-fence, his white locks strew'd 
 On the keen gale of Morn, Arcestes stood. 
 " Thy love, true friend, hath early chas'd thy rest. 
 Bless me, my Father, and I shall be blest."
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 109 
 
 " Would that the poor, weak blessing of a heart 
 That soon with earthly cares and woes shall part, 
 Could be a shield and shelter round thee spread, 
 Help to thy steps and shadow to thy head. 
 Together wend we, Indra. When o'erpast 
 Thy toils, attain'd thy heart's sweet rest, at last 
 These worn-out orbs in hope I'll tranquil close, 
 And thou shalt hymn my requiem of repose." 
 
 He would not be denied. They onward sped, 
 That ancient Man and beauteous orphan Maid : 
 But she now bore, in garb of minstrel drest, 
 The harp bequeathed her by their mystic guest ; 
 That harp, whose magic whirl'd the soul along 
 Resistless, chiming to her syren tongue. 
 They sought a path, less savage than the road 
 By Dion's venturous step of ardour trod ; v 
 Where shepherd tribes a scanty pasture find, 
 A race uncouth, but yet of human kind ; 
 Lawless, or bending but to force alone, 
 But claiming two rude virtues for their own —
 
 1 10 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 Good faith and hospitable lore. Nor they 
 Senseless to music's rapt, heroic lay. 
 
 Not half this mountain tract was travers'd o'er, 
 And distant yet the Euxine's classic shore, 
 When, worn with toil and bent beneath the weight 
 Of hoary age, Arcestes bow'd to fate. 
 So peaceful sets on Ocean's troublous breast 
 The Day-star sinking to his glorious rest ; 
 Each glance benign upon the dim world cast, 
 Each sigh surcharg'd with blessing to the last ; 
 And the bright track his pilgrim step hath strown 
 With glory, beac'ning to a realm unknown, 
 And op'ning through the sapphire-vaulted sky 
 The golden gate to blessedness on high. 
 Alone must now her pilgrim path be ta'en 
 Mid rugged wilds and yet more savage men : 
 Those to the mountain child familiar long, 
 These gazing, awstruck, on the Child of Song, 
 Whose stately air, retir'd, but lofty, mood, 
 And form of grace, in such mark'd contrast stood
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. Ill 
 
 With their rude lineaments. Whose song could sway 
 Their souls with might surpassing mortal lay. 
 
 Her theme was now th' illustrious exile's woes, 
 
 The sport of Fate ; Earth, Ocean, Heaven his foes, 
 
 Yet victor rising o'er Earth, Ocean, Sky, 
 
 And Fate itself, by matchless constancy. 
 
 And ah ! when dwelling on the one, deep thought, 
 
 That all his sorrows, suffering, triumph, wrought 
 
 That pure, unquenchable, exhaustless flame 
 
 That still burn'd on, through every change the same — 
 
 Which woe but heighten'd, luxury could not dim, 
 
 And peril but more sacred made to him — 
 
 His country's love. No heart those tones could hear 
 
 Of pleading pathos, but felt shadowing near 
 
 Ulysses' awful spirit, mightier far 
 
 In woe than conqueror in the ten years' war. 
 
 Or sang she him, Athena, whose dire fate 
 Seal'd his proud birthright of the good and great 
 Among thy children ? — him who Plato taught 
 His lore divine ; from whose pure spirit caught
 
 112 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 His eloquence sublime, thy peerless son, 
 
 Chief of ten thousand heroes, Xenophon ? 
 
 Sang she of Socrates, at once the boast 
 
 And condemnation of thy blood-stain'd coast ; 
 
 The first whom Pallas' voice inspir'd to know 
 
 Herself, in Virtue's shape transform'd below ? 
 
 Sang she the woe which robb'd a World forlorn 
 
 Of such bright Day-star of a purer Morn ? 
 
 That deed, o'er which Medea's dreadful shade 
 
 Shriek'd her wild laugh and shook the reeking 
 
 blade. 
 Oh ! as absorb'd in gesture, eye, and thought, 
 Her audience rude th' unwonted numbers caught, 
 The inspiration of that matchless strain 
 Wrought in each heart and madden'd every brain ; 
 And the stern hunter of the mountain, grown 
 Fir'd with ambition till that hour unknown, 
 Marvell r d that aught to his wild soul should 
 
 seem 
 Dearer or worthier than his first, last dream 
 Of war and rapine, or that music's sway 
 Should steal the fierceness of his soul away.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 113 
 
 Of Phocion, name scarce less rever'd, she sung, 
 
 Not less her glory from whose soil he sprung, 
 
 And, ah ! not less her victim, whose red hand 
 
 Still pour'd the tide o'er that affrighted land 
 
 Of her best children's blood. O matchless queen 
 
 Of arts, and eloquence, and godlike men ! 
 
 Whence thy perverse, unhallow'd fury, shown 
 
 On all whose names were worthy of thine own ? 
 
 Which of thy noblest sons hast thou not sent 
 
 To death, to bondage, or to banishment ? 
 
 So that in peace within thy walls to die 
 
 Might seem reproachful to the Memory 
 
 Else faultless deem'd. Or did thine artful mind 
 
 Ponder herein a subtlety refin'd : 
 
 On human virtue's frail and faltering; zeal 
 
 To set the firm, irrevocable seal, 
 
 And make that virtue, when to Heaven 'twas 
 
 grown, 
 By death's inalienable pledge thine own ? 
 
 But most were mov'd their ardent minds when he, 
 Laconia's patriot, and Thermopylae 
 
 8
 
 114 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO T. 
 
 Inspir'd her lay : and mountain bosoms glow'd 
 
 With fire heroic as the numbers flow'd ; 
 
 And the small Band, self-offer'd at thy shrine, 
 
 Fair Liberty, once more in serried line 
 
 March to irrevocable death. Their tread 
 
 How firm, how solemn are the glances shed 
 
 Around them, as a last farewell they take 
 
 Of home, friends, country, for that country's sake. 
 
 Their silent inarch no murmur'd voice betrays ; 
 
 The clash of steel alone, the martial blaze 
 
 Of their own sun from arms and armour thrown 
 
 Mark their stern path to Hades and renown. 
 
 But, in each bosom, settled as the Deep 
 
 Ere yet the tempest o'er its surface sweep, 
 
 Home's early joys, remember'd hope and trust, 
 
 Their friends, their altars, and their fathers' dust, 
 
 In awful power repose. On either hand 
 
 To mourn, to envy their high privilege, stand 
 
 Laconia's martial youth : and aged men, 
 
 Rever'd as their own altars, feel again 
 
 The bounding glow of youth, and long to lay 
 
 On that high fane life's fast-departing ray.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 115 
 
 And Sparta's maids, a beauteous band, are there. ^ 
 What heart, the freedom of those smiles to share, 
 Would not stir Glory in Death's rugged lair ? 
 White robes their forms, their brows white garlands 
 
 bind — 
 Robes, blossoms, spotless as each vestal mind : 
 Each arm outstretch'd ; each chisell'd brow the shrine 
 Of holiest ardour in a cause divine ; 
 Each tender cheek how pale ! save where appear 
 As through the cleft pomegranate's crystal clear, 
 Soft hectic streaks, and in each eye a tear : 
 Such tear as many a Spartan eye bedew, — 
 Such as Leonidas himself might view 
 Unblaming. Tear well fitted to thy rite, 
 Relentless Nemesis, dread daughter of the Night. 
 
 Thus sang Prometheus' Daughter. On her song, 
 Entranc'd and mute, her audience feasted long : 
 But when the tramp of warriors meets their ear, 
 And flaming arms and nodding crests appear, 
 And eyes flash out, as from the deep Sea's wave, 
 The fires that beacon and adorn the grave, — 
 
 8—2
 
 116 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 And as the mountain pass they dauntless scale, 
 And pour their free song on the mountain gale, 
 And banquet cheerful as the guests decreed 
 Of gloomy Dis and th' illustrious Dead : 
 No more her audience curb'd their martial pride, 
 But, rising, pac'd the Cot with loftier stride; 
 And clash'd their arms and mingled in the fray, 
 So Fancy taught them, of that glorious day. 
 
 Thus chang'd her theme. But whatsoe'er its vein, 
 No mood of lightness mingled in the strain ; 
 Nor did the spell-bound Shepherd, as her eye 
 Brought o'er his soul the deeds of years gone by, 
 Presume of that lone minstrel to require 
 One thrill of gladness from his wondrous lyre. 
 But as she onward sped, the mountain breast 
 'Gan offer startling tokens of unrest ; 
 Each hamlet muster'd at the Elder's door 
 Its chosen youth ; their thoughts, looks, language, war. 
 Struck with the portent, she her speech address'd 
 To one whose locks of age his rank express'd 
 Mid those rude Shepherds.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 117 
 
 " Father, what alarms 
 Are mustering thus your chosen youth in arms ? 
 No gauds be yours, no spoils to tempt the hand 
 Of lawless conqueror or the robber band. 
 Your riches health, your heritage stern toil, 
 Freedom your birthright, poverty your wall ; 
 The sweeping avalanche and earthquake's shock 
 The sole invaders of your eyrie rock. 
 Whence, then, this martial concourse, this array 
 Of warriors arm'd and mustering for th' affray ? 
 Is not the world at rest ? " 
 
 " Alas ! my son, 
 When was the world at rest ? — Since time begun 
 Of quacks and madmen still th' alternate prize, 
 While strength foils virtue, knaves outwit the wise. 
 But thou a stranger art, or shouldst have known 
 The tidings strange that o'er our hills have flown ; 
 The portents dread that have to Earth restor'd 
 Prometheus' Race and edg'd Prometheus' sword 
 To Death's red harvest. If thou, then, wouldst hear 
 A tale of marvel, fitting minstrel ear,
 
 118 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 Enter and rest thee in my lowly cot, 
 And be it ours from thy sad heart to blot 
 The homeless Wanderer's woe." 
 
 With grateful look 
 That thrice repaid the boon, the Maiden took 
 Her welcome seat beside that lowly board ; 
 And while the matron spread her rustic hoard, 
 Fresh milk, and barley cakes, and flesh of deer, 
 And press'd with kindest zeal the simple cheer 
 Upon her anxious guest, that aged man, 
 Loquacious, thus his promis'd tale began : 
 
 " A stranger, thou, my son ; yet wheresoe'er 
 Thy lips first drew the breath of vital air, 
 Whether in lands where Ganges' strength is roll'd 
 O'er India's sparkling gems and sands of gold ; 
 Or where the snorting steed of Scythia first 
 Quells in Tanai's' rills his fiery thirst, 
 And neighs his welcome to the new-born son 
 Of Ocean, strengthening as his might rolls on ; 
 Where'er thy birth, no Nation but the fame 
 Of great Prometheus has enroll'd his name
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 119 
 
 First of Earth's heroes. Since his Race afar 
 
 Were chas'd to exile by our evil star, 
 
 The land, distraught by turns with civil strife, 
 
 Or foreign war, the fetter and the knife, 
 
 Hath wept in sackcloth and repentant mourn'd 
 
 The heaven-sprung Race whose faultless rule she 
 
 scorn'd. 
 But still a hope surviv'd. From days of old 
 Sages and seers had in their lays foretold 
 That once again, as from the womb of Time, 
 Prometheus' fire should burst, Prometheus' line 
 Once more a hero yield. The day, the year, 
 By mystic symbols shadow'd, had drawn near, 
 When portents strange throughout our land retrace 
 The hope which 0ges might not all efface. 
 
 c A mound there is with pine-trees shadow'd round, 
 Amid whose dust by curious eyes are found 
 Gems of small price and ancient coins that bear 
 Prometheus' name. Tradition fixes there 
 The ancient palace ; — but a desert now 
 Marks the lone spot, and there tall thistles grow.
 
 120 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 That spot the shepherd and the labouring swain 
 
 Shun when eve's shadow lengthens o'er the plain ; 
 
 For many speak of sights and sounds unblest, 
 
 Whose memory strikes pale terror through the breast. 
 
 Few months be past since that lone, haunted mound 
 
 We wondering saw with fiery column crown'd. 
 
 A splendid pyramid, which not the blast 
 
 Of the wild tempest from its base could cast, 
 
 Which not the whirlwind ruffle. High and clear — 
 
 The cause to each of marvel and of fear — 
 
 By day, by night it stood, nor stood alone : 
 
 For, gazing anxious, tower'd the snow-gemm'd crown 
 
 Of dread Elborus ; pillar'd there was seen 
 
 An answering beacon, piercing the serene 
 
 Of heaven's blue vault. Full forty nights they stood 
 
 Shedding o'er all the land their lurid flood ; 
 
 Each on his neighbour gazing, deem'd to view 
 
 The hand of death in that pale, livid hue ; 
 
 Each caught from other the infectious chill, 
 
 And gaz'd by turns upon the Giant's Hill* 
 
 * Elborus is so called from the gigantic spectre traditionally said 
 to haunt it.— See note 3 at the end.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 121 
 
 And back to that lone mound. Then came the shock 
 
 Of the blind elements : the Earthquake's rock 
 
 O'erthrew the populous city. Thrice it came, 
 
 Earth pouring from her breast the liquid flame, 
 
 And uttering her dread thunders. When 'twas o'er, 
 
 All eyes those beacons sought, but found no more. 
 
 Then one, less fearful, climb'd the Mount's ascent ; — 
 
 Its mass the Earthquake to its base had rent, 
 
 And in the chasm's gorge had open laid 
 
 A flight of marble steps of ample grade, 
 
 Erewhile the palace' access ; now o'erstrown 
 
 With shatter'd cornices and shafts o'erthrown. 
 
 Descending here, for Fate his footstep led, 
 
 Wide halls and courts were open to his tread ; 
 
 As fresh, as fair in beauty all appear'd, 
 
 As if the court that moment had been clear'd, 
 
 And from his vacant, gem-encluster'd throne 
 
 That hour the monarch to repose had gone. 
 
 And o'er the throne a glorious halo shed 
 
 The jewell'd crown of th' illustrious Dead. 
 
 Twain its chief gems, "The Mount, the Sea of Light :"( 10) 
 
 Alike ascrib'd to that dread arm of might,
 
 122 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO V. 
 
 Which of their golden fruit despoil'd the trees 
 And gem-clropt fountains of tli' Hesperides.* (11) 
 
 " The dread Regalia thence with care convey'd, 
 Each sought his father's spear or battle blade 
 To guard those sacred relics from the hand 
 Of him who reign'd the tj-rant of the land. 
 Near and afar the joyful tidings sped : 
 The vale, the mountain heard, and every head 
 Once more in hope was rais'd. That news awoke 
 The peasant crouch'd beneath his servile yoke ; 
 The shepherd dreaming on the mountain side 
 His dream debasing of the tyrant's pride 
 And his once happy land. Tli' untoiling steer 
 Untended now may wander void of fear 
 Through the green pasture. The deserted flock 
 Choose their own browse upon the thymy rock ; 
 But none shall now their wandering steps recall 
 As down the vale Eve's deep'ning shadows fall ; 
 
 * Hercules.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 123 
 
 Nor pen their helpless young within the fold 
 From howling wolves or blast of midnight cold. 
 Peasant and swain alike, the serf and lord, 
 Their peaceful homes have left to grasp the sword. 
 
 " No clarion blew, no gorgeous banner shone, 
 No circling edict summon'd all as one. 
 Yet by a common impulse undefin'd, 
 All turn'd their steps to that dread height, where shrin'd 
 Prometheus' ashes lie. One anxious night 
 Crowded with portents pass'd beneath that height. 
 When morning dawn'd, the rising Sun cast down 
 The awful shadow of that mountain lone 
 O'er half the Euxine : They beheld him come 
 For whom they'd watch'd, and wept, and pray'd — for 
 
 whom 
 The womb of Time had travail'd sore and long, 
 Foretold of sage's speech and prophet's song: 
 Prometheus' great descendant, cast like him 
 In more than mortal symmetry of limb, 
 In more than human beauty. From that hour 
 Hath dawn'd an era new. The tyrant's power
 
 1 24 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO T. 
 
 Pal'd, as on high rose great Prometheus' star ; 
 
 Pal'd, as his name was voic'd of mountain war. 
 
 Yet, not the regal diadem will don, 
 
 Nor fill the vacant throne, Prometheus' son. 
 
 In Indra's name the regal edicts flow, 
 
 The vacant diadem for her fair brow 
 
 Is sacred held. To Persian lands afar 
 
 Speeds the high embassy, but threaten'd war 
 
 Musters our mountain youth. Such, Minstrel, be 
 
 The causes wondrous of the stir you see. 
 
 Nay ! all untouch'd thou'st left our rugged fare: 
 
 Would we could tempt thee with a cate more rare ! 
 
 Rest thee, young Wanderer; think not hence to go 
 
 Till morn breaks cheerly o'er yon mountain brow." 
 
 So spake the ancient Man, nor deem'd his guest 
 In that strange tale so deep a stake possess'd, 
 Nor that, beside his hearth in lowly state, 
 His queen, Prometheus' matchless daughter, sate. 
 While she with throbbing heart and flushincr brow 
 Ponder'd each word that thrill'd her bosom through.
 
 CANTO V.] THE QUEST. 125 
 
 Joy, pride, surprise, — for Dion pride and joy, 
 By turns, at once her wilder'd thoughts employ ; 
 And love, such love, so chasten'd, rais'd, refin'd 
 In loftiest musings of a spotless mind, 
 Elate o'er time, chance, passion's heady sway, 
 The world, its mortal taint and fading ray ; 
 And yet so mingled, tangled, sweetly sown 
 With childhood's joys and promises unblown, 
 That like some partial shower bow, hung between 
 Earth's flowery mead and Heaven's high vault serene, 
 Its beauteous clasp, for envious clouds more bright, 
 Links Earth's best glory with the realms of light. 
 
 END OF CANTO V.
 
 Canto VI. 
 
 THE DEFIANCE. 
 
 High rode the Sun thro' Heaven, and, bath'd in light, 
 
 Slept the deep Euxine wide outspread to sight : 
 
 Sparkling, as flash by flash his billows play, 
 
 And his huge volume basks in noontide ray. 
 
 Afar in distance, mid the Heavens you trace 
 
 (The Heavens down-bending to that soft embrace) 
 
 Where ends th' Immense, where opens the Sublime, 
 
 Where dim Eternity joins hands with Time. 
 
 And nearer, where the watery gulf below 
 
 Meets the full floods of light from Heaven that flow,
 
 128 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO TI. 
 
 Another flood, the buoyant waft of air, 
 
 The while sweeps lightly in broad mazes there. 
 
 And nearer still, where, dancing o'er the sand, 
 
 Wave courses wave from Ocean up the strand, 
 
 White wreaths, flung graceful by those Naiads, lie 
 
 Mid the dark rocks and sea-drift heap'd on high. 
 
 But who shall give the Ocean's voice to song ? 
 
 The myriad harmonies sublim'd in one, 
 
 The dim, mysterious, whisper'd secrets given 
 
 'Twixt the hoar Deep and th' eternal Heaven ? — 
 
 Murmurs so faint, we doubt if 'tis the ear 
 
 Of sense attests them and in sooth we hear, 
 
 Or if some latent sympathy alone 
 
 Appeal the heart in likeness of a tone. 
 
 So bask'd the Waters. High above them frown'd 
 
 Rude mountain heights with tangled forest crown'd, 
 
 And highest, rending Heaven's blue vault, thy 
 
 brow, 
 Elborus, guards a world of wintry snow. 
 
 Wild is the scene and vast : yet not alone 
 Primaeval Nature here upholds her throne :
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 1 29 
 
 For hither thronging multitudes resort, 
 To swell the pomp of great Prometheus' Court; 
 Their offerings, homage, tribute, proud to bring, 
 Or but to gaze, enraptur'd, on a king 
 So late restor'd as from the womb of Time, 
 And feast their eyes upon that form sublime, 
 Till round them rise in seeming years bygone 
 The shadowy Past and all its dim renown. 
 And hither Indra came — her tried disguise 
 Secur'd her well from mark of prying eyes, 
 Secur'd from Dion's ken. How swell'd her breast 
 As, mingling with the crowd that onward press'd, 
 In vassal guise her Dion's feet she sought, 
 The veriest unit of his princely Court ! 
 
 No hall of State the work of mortal art, 
 No guarded precincts from the World apart, 
 No marble tesselate its aid affords, 
 No grim array of serried pikes and swords, 
 But on a massive granite rock, o'ergrown 
 With stains of Time and lichens many an one, 
 
 9
 
 130 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO YI. 
 
 A lion's tawny spoils beneath him spread, 
 The pine's rude arms wide waving overhead, 
 The mountain peak above, the sea below, 
 His regal pomp enthron'd on his dread brow, 
 Th' illustrious Regent sate. Beneath his throne 
 Reclin'd the Elders of the State, men grown 
 Hoar with the frost of counsel. On their right 
 The chief in arms, stern Rulers of the fight, — 
 Young, ardent spirits, given, like Pallas' birth, 
 All arm'd and radiant and resolv'd, to Earth. 
 
 Simple, yet graceful, in his garb of State, 
 
 The least of those who Dion's bidding wait 
 
 Were costlier clad. And while around him 
 
 glow 
 Rich ermin'd robes and gems, — a dazzling show — 
 His state, superior to such trappings vain, 
 Casts into shade that rich and glittering train; 
 As hilt of gold with flashing gems inlaid 
 But foils the blue gleam of the Damask blade.
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 131 
 
 High on the terrac'd rock she mark'd that throne, 
 Of genii builded in an age unknown. 
 Dion fills but the footstool of the shrine ; 
 Its sacred seat, Prometheus' daughter, thine. 
 
 Pale in the crowd she stood, their hope, their queen, 
 O'erlook'd, unnoted : she whose voice had been 
 The clarion of all hearts, whose lightest will 
 Thousands had rush'd delighted to fulfil. 
 Unmark'd she stood : the while her flashing eye 
 Undazzled pass'd that glittering pageantry, 
 To seek, to fix, to feast on him who bore 
 The traits, the features reverenc'd evermore — 
 Her childhood's friend, companion, brother, guide. 
 How blent with woman's love her woman's pride 
 Thus to behold him, by his virtues thron'd, 
 So well adorn the right all bosoms own'd. 
 
 And this their fathers' land, their fathers' dust 
 From ancient days had here consign'd its trust, 
 Mingled perchance with every mountain pine 
 And wild-flower basking in the sunny shine, 
 
 9 — ii
 
 132 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 The turf beneath their feet, the rocks around, 
 The torrent gushing past with tameless bound. 
 Her fathers' spirits (could she doubt it ?) there 
 Walk'd the deep Ocean, throng'd the viewless air, 
 Came on the shadowy whisper secret borne 
 By vassal elements at wake of morn ; 
 Or when, at eve, a holier calm hath blest 
 The winds and waters with the trance of rest ; 
 Or when, conflicting both, wild thunders roll, 
 And awful voices shake Man's failing soul. 
 
 She gaz'd where stood that sacred, mystic throne 
 His generous hand reserv'd for her alone.' 
 One word of hers had potence to restore 
 Her land, crown, bosom's lord, to part no more. 
 But was it from her lips the word should flow, 
 At which her Dion's sov'reign power must bow ? 
 At which, descending from his virtual throne, 
 His star must homage yield before her own ? 
 Was it not bliss sufficing her, to be 
 Th' unseen Palladium of the Brave and Free ?
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 133 
 
 To move in mystery like a spirit there, 
 
 Felt as the presence of their vital air : 
 
 Their queen, their guardian angel, though unknown, 
 
 Dispensing peace and blessedness alone ? 
 
 To feast on all his glowing virtues still ; 
 
 To watch, perchance to shield from threaten'd ill ; 
 
 In secret counsel of the snares that lie 
 
 Beyond th' horizon cramp'd of kingly eye : 
 
 And thus, beneficent, unseen, unknown, 
 
 Exult in consciousness of joys foregone ? 
 
 But hark ! but hark the trumpet's clarion bold,* 
 Toss'd from the Euxine's rocks and caverns old, 
 From crag to crag reverb 'd ; now swelling high, 
 Now lost mid breaker's moan and zephyr's sigh 
 Along the surf-sown margin. " Warder, say, 
 What from thy watchtower, beetling o'er the spray, 
 Meets thy lone eye ? " 
 
 * The Aiv.bs hare no trumpet. These, therefore, must have belonged 
 to the guard of honour appointed to meet the envoy.
 
 134 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO TI. 
 
 " My Lord, from early morn 
 My sight, o'erwhelm'd, the boundless waste hath 
 
 borne 
 Of flood and mountain crag. Oh ! weary they 
 Who lonely watch where restless billows play. 
 But now they come, a small, a stately Band ; 
 I see them winding o'er the Ocean sand. 
 Slow is their march ; the billow bounds to meet, 
 Then falls in foam-wreaths at their coursers' feet : 
 Not whiter seen than that which serves to fleck 
 The glossy velvet of each haughty neck, 
 Each ample chest, as curb'd, though not subdued, 
 They champ the polish'd bit in restless mood, 
 And, pawing high, but ill their fire restrain, 
 Or brook the bondage of the jewell'd rein. 
 Wild on the breeze the sable banner's fold 
 Swells, a black storm-cloud 'neath the crescent gold." 
 
 " The Khalif's well-known standard. Warder, say, 
 Thou that keep'st reck'ning of the wild waves' play, 
 Comes nought beside along the watery way ? "
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 135 
 
 " Far, far to East, to West, the icy Pole 
 Spreads the deep Ocean waste, the weary billows roll. 
 The livelong night that waste my soul hath fill'd 
 Of moonlit furrows by the strong wind till'cl : 
 The long drear night, the sultry blaze of day ; — 
 Oh ! weary lot to watch the sleepless billows' play. 
 Nought mid that waste of waters deep I see. 
 Save the lone skiff that wanders far and free : 
 The anchor'd galley with its sail unfurl'd, 
 And Rome's grim eagle mid the hazy world. 
 While eastward far a sable speck still grows 
 With each white wave that up the sea-beach flows." 
 
 " Enough ! three missions come : due honours speed, 
 And each in turn to instant audience lead. 
 Soldiers we be, — brief form and brief debate 
 Suit best the genius of our infant State." 
 
 Near and more near the martial murmurs swell 
 Up from the sands where restless billows dwell ; 
 In partial bursts receiv'd, as some chance rent 
 Through the steep cliff affords them free ascent.
 
 136 PROxMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 Then, as the cliff is scal'd, in lengthen'cl time 
 
 Prolong'd the measure of the martial chime, 
 
 Tok'ning the labour of the steepy road. 
 
 And now the summit of the cliff is trod, 
 
 And full and free as bursts the seaward view, 
 
 Burst those wild notes in mountain freedom too, 
 
 Dance o'er the billows, light and unconfin'd, 
 
 Mount the blue Heaven, float o'er the viewless wind, 
 
 And from Elborus' awful summit hurl'd, 
 
 Return like voices from a distant World. 
 
 Then sudden cease ; and in their place succeeds, 
 
 Mid the sea's moan, the measur'd tramp of steeds 
 
 And ring of harness, as in fair array 
 
 The Envoy threads that life-encumber'd way. 
 
 An aged warrior he : his turban fold 
 Not whiter than the beard of snow which roll'd 
 Wide waving o'er his breast. A tunic green, 
 Beneath the white folds of his Aba seen, 
 Betrays his sacred birth : and round his waist 
 In shawl of green his jewell'd arms are brac'd.
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 137 
 
 Ample his garb, beside, of spotless snow. 
 Time had worn furrows o'er his lofty brow, 
 Matur'd and settled, but not quench'd the high 
 Enthusiast courage of that deep-set eye ; 
 Nor from the features' high, sharp outline driven 
 One trait of haughty pride that towers to Heaven. 
 Brief was his reverence and his greeting rude, 
 As thus confronting Dion's throne he stood. 
 
 " Thus saith the prophet's Vicar (on whose brow 
 Be blessings multiplied in boundless flow) : 
 
 ' Our ears amid the prayers that hourly rise 
 From faithful lips to twice a hundred skies, 
 Have heard of Treason : yet restrained our might, 
 Nor bar'd the sword, reluctant still to smite. 
 If, then, unask'd our will, ye have o'erthrown 
 The ancient rule for sceptre of your own ; 
 If in idolatry most blind have made 
 An idol altar to some unknown shade, 
 And that a woman's, ye have foully done : 
 Yet hear the terms of grace our will makes known.
 
 138 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 Destroy tli' accursed altar. Whom ye will 
 Depute the seat of royalty to fill, 
 So he be Man. Throughout your land proclaim 
 Islam, the one true God, and Prophet's name. 
 Be the sword sharpen'd, bent the sounding bow- 
 On him th' accurst, who, hearing, fails to bow 
 And take the pledge of peace. This do and live : 
 Our faith, our pity, pleads, and we forgive.' " 
 
 He said, and ceas'd : throughout his audience rose 
 Hoarse murmur'd sounds indignant : aged brows 
 In stern displeasure lour'd, and youthful eyes 
 Flash'd the keen lightnings of incens'd surprise ; 
 And youthful hands by warrior instinct stray'd 
 Tow'rd hilt of dagger keen or battle blade ; 
 And swell'd from man to man the answer deep, 
 As when wild, fitful gusts old Ocean sweep, 
 Waking the myriad voices of his might. 
 Dion gaz'd proudly on the throng ; his sight 
 Kindled intense, as if the lightnings thrown 
 From eye to eye converging fill'd his own :
 
 !ANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 139 
 
 Awhile he gaz'd, then in a voice whose thrill 
 Did those wild waves of Discord sudden still, 
 The haughty Envoy answer'd : 
 
 " We have heard 
 Of him, whose voice thou art, each boastful word. 
 Bear back our final answer. Ere was known 
 On Earth thy Prophet's law, thy Khalif's throne, 
 Heaven to our Sires did sacred rights bequeath, 
 The soil they tread, the freeborn gales they breathe. 
 Ere yet went forth the Desert's tameless child, 
 Your great progenitor — ere yet the wild 
 Of Araby the voice of dweller heard, 
 Save her steed's neigh or clang of Desert bird — 
 Our Sires chose one to guide their infant State, 
 In war their chief, in peace their magistrate. 
 Their heroes rul'd ; truth, virtue, love had sway, 
 Till bigots chas'd that chosen race away. 
 Years wax'd and wan'd : the Arab Prophet came, 
 Proclaiming discord, kindling murder's flame ; 
 Our hapless land, betray'd, divided, rent, 
 Not scatheless stood, th' unrighteous armament :
 
 140 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 Their upstart king, loatli'd, hated of his own, 
 Crouch'd to the crescent for his tottering throne. 
 But when Time's womb Prometheus' heir restor'd, 
 The land her fetters burst and bar'd her sword : 
 That heir, a maiden, great Prometheus' own, 
 With all the hero in Prometheus known. 
 
 " Hence learn, no shrine, but throne confronts thee here, 
 And to the haughty terms of truce ye bear 
 Take back our brief reply. Allegiance none 
 To foreign State our freeborn spirits own. 
 With them, with thine as equals will we treat, 
 Or prove your equals when our war-blades meet. 
 Nor will we, blest in freedom, o'er the mind 
 Of one, freeborn, the yoke tyrannic bind ; 
 Nor on ourselves assume the burden given 
 To one weak conscience, by the will of Heaven. 
 Thou hast our answer, — we desire not war, 
 Yet wield the swords our dauntless fathers bore. 
 We covet peace : yet spurn it, if allied 
 To one base thought that shocks our freeborn 
 pride."
 
 IANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 141 
 
 Full, clear, and deep the princely accents fell, 
 As when wild rolling o'er some cavernous dell 
 Of ancient Caucasus, the thunder low 
 Fills the rude glen till all its bounds o'erflow : 
 And vibrates to its core in stern assent, 
 Each rock, each cliff, each time-worn battlement, 
 Till, wak'd the lowest chord, in one long sweep 
 Nature's dread organ peals its volumes stern and deep. 
 So swell'd that voice, so wak'd from breast to breast 
 Reflections keen of those high thoughts exprest, 
 Till ran from man to man the stormy sound, 
 And with the whirlwind's potence swept around ; 
 And each unwittingly his couch forsook, 
 And on the Envoy hurl'd his dazzling look ; 
 And to and fro that wood of plumes was sway'd, 
 As the strong gale of passion fitful play'd, 
 Like pine-boughs tossing in th' autumnal glade. 
 
 Unmov'd the Envoy saw around him glow 
 Emotions powerful as the gulf-tide's flow. 
 In calm, stern voice he spake, as o'er the land 
 He stretch'd in sign of wroth his naked battle brand.
 
 142 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 " Thus saith the Prophet's Vicar (be his reign 
 With blessing crown'd !) : f Since ye our peace disdain, 
 Receive our wroth, our curse, to blight and slay; 
 Terror by night, the scythe of Death by day. 
 Enough, the sword of vengeance is gone forth, 
 Death's tramp I hear, dread Azrael's shout of wroth." 
 
 He ceas'd, small reverence made, and turn'd to go, 
 His former path retracing calm and slow, 
 Regain'cl his steed, all social rites declin'd, 
 And shook his sable banner on the wind. 
 He came as comes some vulture from afar, 
 Herald of carnage, harbinger of war ; 
 Is past, as from some death-devoted land 
 The scout, forerunner of the locust band. 
 
 Ere yet the martial clangour died afar, 
 
 Mid breezy tides and tumbling breakers' roar, 
 
 Up the steep, toilsome path, at headlong speed, 
 
 The Scythian spurr'd his wild, deep-chested steed, (12) 
 
 In strength and freedom glorying. Far behind 
 
 He, snorting, leaves the laggart mountain wind.
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 143 
 
 Loose o'er the disc of his broad buckler slung 
 The deathful bow and rattling quiver rung, 
 Mingling their music with the tinkling sound 
 Of silvery plates the war-steed's neck that bound ; 
 While toss'd on high each shaggy mane is borne, 
 Like thund'rous cloud by adverse currents torn, 
 And quails the slender spear, as bound on bound 
 Speeds the wild desert steed; — cliff, rock, and glebe resound. 
 
 Free and intrepid was the horseman's mien, 
 
 As might his race and nurture wild beseem : 
 
 A son of Nature, in the rude tent bred, 
 
 From realm to realm by wandering shepherd led. 
 
 Where'er the circling Heaven its curtain draws 
 
 Around the green Earth's breast ; where'er the laws 
 
 Of Night and Day the heavenly guardians keep, 
 
 And Titan seasons scale th' ethereal Steep ; 
 
 From those high realms where, wheeling round the sky, 
 
 Arcturus urges still the huntsman's cry, 
 
 Nor sinks to close the ever-burning eye; 
 
 To where Antares from the Scorpion's heart 
 
 Sheds death, and glows the Scorpion's fiery dart,
 
 144 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 There his wide dwelling. Boreas scatters there 
 His dripping wing, shakes far his snowy hair ; 
 And here, Hyperion, glorious as of old, 
 Floods Earth and Heaven with tides of molten gold. 
 The circling seasons, vassals of his need, 
 Call forth the tender herb his flocks to feed ; 
 Nor mountain wall, nor rivers, ocean's band 
 Curbs his free step, nor bounds his native land. 
 His greeting paid, in rude, uncultur'd tone, 
 Thus spake far Scythia's child, the Desert's tameless 
 son: 
 
 " The Lord of many Lords, whose realms comprise 
 All spread beneath the Sun's far-darting eyes ; 
 From the bleak frozen zone to where his might 
 O'er Nature sheds intolerable light ; 
 He wills thee greeting. Rumours of thy war 
 And petty change of State have reach'd his ear ; 
 But charg'd of thee with humble tribute, none 
 Hath kiss'd as yet the threshold of his throne, 
 Whether 'tis fear the duteous act denies, 
 Or conscious indigence in those dread eyes.
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 145 
 
 Wherefore to pity mov'd, he bids thee know 
 His fulness, like the shoreless ocean's flow, 
 Lacks not the wealth of each untitled rill 
 His bliss to perfect or his depths to fill ; 
 Yet not the less cloth fealty's pledge require, 
 Those symbols of his sway, earth, water, fire. 
 So 'neath his skirt securely shall ye dwell 
 When War lets loose on Earth the fiends of Hell." 
 
 He ceas'd, and while the glances of the Brave, 
 Flashing around, indignant protest gave, 
 Calmly, in conscious dignity serene, 
 Thus Dion answer'd : — 
 
 " Thou whose manly mien 
 Beseems a son of Liberty, whose speech 
 The creed which slaves receive and tyrants preach, 
 Know that the dust by our free step imprest 
 Once built the shrine of many a noble breast ; 
 Know that no wavelet, sparkling, bounds along, 
 But bears a burden in the general song 
 Of liberty ; no flame but vaunts his might 
 Who brought to Man Truth's consecrated light. 
 
 10
 
 146 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO TI. 
 
 " Tliink ye to strangers lightly we'll entrust 
 Our fathers' sacred, venerated dust? 
 Think ye we'll banish one glad wave, whose song 
 Doth to the Past and Memory's lore belong ? 
 Or that to foreign hands we'll e'er consign 
 The hallow'd emblem of a fire divine ? 
 Come ye as guests ? Full freely shall ye share 
 Our cup, our hearth, the fruits our furrows bear. 
 Come ye as foes ? Our waves our dust shall hide, 
 Our fire consume the robber and his pride. 
 Choose ye of these, and may sound wisdom bar 
 The famish'd wolves and slaughter fiends of war." 
 
 s 
 
 Awhile amaz'd the Scythian envoy heard 
 
 That bold defiance of the terms preferr'd ; 
 
 Then from his belt a bearded arrow drew, 
 
 And at the Regent's feet the emblem threw: 
 
 "Take then our wroth, the arrowy death that 
 
 flies 
 By day, by night ; the vengeance that but dies 
 When root and branch consum'd in Death's red fire, 
 Nought breathes t' incense or feed th' avenger's ire.
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 147 
 
 The Scythian bow is bent. Your mountain height 
 The neighs of thousand thousand war-steeds fright, 
 Ten thousand thousand thronging hoofs rebound, 
 And Hell's dark caverns quake as rocks the shuddering 
 ground." 
 
 He said, and like his own swift shaft was gone 
 Ere Echo ceas'd to mouth that fiery tone. 
 Sprang to his courser's back with vigorous bound, 
 Nor curb'd his fire as fast consum'd the ground. 
 Silence succeeds as his last hoof-sound dies, 
 And each asks anxious at his neighbour's eyes. 
 
 That silence Dion broke. " My fellow-men, 
 Born and baptiz'd in liberty again ! 
 Why gaze ye thus, as each would fain inquire 
 His neighbour's thoughts, or scan his spirit's fire ? 
 Have ye not each to other prov'd full well 
 How true the temper of resolves that swell 
 Each dauntless breast ? Or did ye think to find 
 Allies mid foes and robbers of their kind ? 
 
 10—2
 
 148 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 Or would ye taint your glory, stain your sword, 
 
 By truce degrading with a robber horde ? 
 
 Or buy with servile homage at their hand 
 
 The right to breathe on this your native strand ? 
 
 Come, foreign war ! If such be Heaven's high will, 
 
 Come all the world in arms our coast to fill : 
 
 Be but our hearts like those our fathers bore, 
 
 True to themselves, untainted to the core ; 
 
 Be but their virtue ours as are their brands, 
 
 Their sacred birthright and their strong right hands. 
 
 Those foes external shall but fence us round, 
 
 As monsters guard the Hesperian garden's bound : 
 
 As hurtling waves the Pearl of Ocean keep 
 
 From caitiff kites and snatchers of the Deep. 
 
 Oh ! never while Prometheus' fire within 
 
 Burns bright and clear. Oh ! never, while to win 
 
 Our own hearts' tribute be our dearest aim ; 
 
 Never, while breathing Indra's sacred name, 
 
 Guarding your heaven-born rights, her ancient throne, 
 
 Inspir'd of thoughts she would not scorn to own, 
 
 Grac'd by her guardian angel's presence blest, 
 
 Th' aspirations of th' undaunted breast, —
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 149 
 
 Never shall slaves or robbers' hands efface 
 One sacred birthright of our free-born Race." 
 
 She heard — ah ! heard she not those noble words 
 Which swept all-powerful o'er her bosom's chords, 
 Stirring a tumult of blest thoughts within, 
 Till to her eyes the welling transports spring ? 
 Thrice, thrice repays her every toil and woe 
 Each winged word that thrills her spirit through, 
 Each proof of excellence in one so dear, 
 Each precious earnest of his truth for her. 
 
 Scarce Dion ceas'd, ere, swelling soft and clear, 
 Music's light strain stole o'er the ravish'd ear : 
 So gently breathed, the Siren of the Deep 
 Ne'er lull'd old Ocean to his charmed sleep 
 With more assausive art. That languid strain 
 Died on the breeze, and rose to die again : 
 Like the lisp'd dreams of infant Orpheus' rest, 
 When at Calliope's young matron breast 
 Rich floods of harmony his soul oppress'd.
 
 150 PEOMETHEUS' DAUGHTEE. [CANTO VI. 
 
 The flute, the hautboy, rich and mellow horn, 
 Their plaining notes together blent, and borne 
 On Ocean's waft, with many a liquid thrill 
 Of Delphic harp th' unwarlike concert fill. 
 While Nature's organ, matchless in its tone, 
 Man's voice, the power of many powers in one, 
 Perfects the swelling peal. And who be they 
 That lead their choir from out old Ocean's spray? 
 Comes she the Paphian queen of becks and smiles, 
 Of love and beauty, from her chosen isles ? 
 Where night and day soft clouds of incense rise, 
 And the heart's flames are fann'd with frequent sighs. 
 
 Nearer the chorus swells. Distinctly now 
 On Dion's ear the Delian numbers flow. 
 That melting strain so languishingly stole, 
 Lull'd the charm'd sense, dissolv'd the failing soul. 
 They sang the triumph of the Queen of Smiles, 
 Love's witchery soft and gay insidious wiles. 
 They sang of hands and hearts together blent, 
 Of lives dissolv'd in love's soft blandishment,
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 151 
 
 In Cnidus' grots where languid brooklets flow, 
 Red roses bud and flowery myrtles blow, 
 And breezes, cloy'd with perfume, fluttering by, 
 Waste all their vigour in the frequent sigh. 
 
 And now so near the pageant, all might scan 
 
 Th' unwarlike group whence those smooth numbers ran. 
 
 First march'd the minstrel Band ; a motley crew 
 
 As the mixt regions whence their blood they drew : 
 
 Each in his robe of spotless white array'd, 
 
 With massive gold on neck and arms display'd. 
 
 Follow the Troop whose hands the banner bear, 
 
 The warrior helm and panoply of war 
 
 (A silver spoil with ductile gold inlaid) : 
 
 The nodding plume and jewel-hilted blade. 
 
 Succeeds his courser in superb array, 
 
 Majestic, pacing to the measur'd lay. 
 
 And then the ivory chariot, richly wrought, 
 
 Inlaid with gems in Orient regions sought, 
 
 And drawn by steeds of Andulusian strain, 
 
 Silver their bits, of silk each snowy rein :
 
 152 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 All grace their movements : curb'd, but not subdued, 
 The generous ardour of their stainless blood ; 
 Docile as two young fawns, twinborn they move, 
 Their proud crests arching, join'd in playful love. 
 
 On the high chariot's easeful throne of state, 
 
 In languid grace reclined, Argyllus sate. 
 
 Loose flow'd his costly robe ; his better hand 
 
 Scarce held, on cushion propp'd, the silver band 
 
 His steeds that rein'd. Few winters o'er his brow 
 
 Had past, and all unruffled in its flow 
 
 Had been life's course ; yet wearily had prest 
 
 The weight of luxury o'er a sated breast : 
 
 The Incubus of pleasure mock'd in vain 
 
 By any title that implies not pain. 
 
 That cheek unting'd of health, unbronz'd by toil, 
 
 Those languid limbs, whose vigour of recoil 
 
 Is sapp'd and wasted. That dull, hollow eye, 
 
 Whence Hope's bright sparkle ne'er again shall fly, 
 
 Nor courage beam — 
 
 O Mistress of the world ! 
 Whose strong right hand the bolt of ruin hurl'd
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 153 
 
 At every crest of pride : whose iron wing 
 Crush 'd the throng'd nations in its mighty swing, 
 And ground their gold, their brass, their iron 
 
 sway 
 As 'neath some chariot-wheel the fictile clay 
 Of potter's hand : and art thou fall'n so far ? 
 Is this thy pride in peace, thy bolt of war ? 
 Comes this vain silken insect to present 
 The fall'n, lost glories of thy firmament ? 
 Thy haughty Consuls', thy stern Tribunes' pride? 
 The adamantine spirit that defied 
 Alike all mortal power; and mightiest still 
 When most opprest beneath the heaviest ill, 
 Uprear'd above the wreck of tower and dome, 
 Crush'd but unbent, the haughty front of Rome ? 
 thou Camillus, saviour of thy land, 
 Man of the dauntless heart, the iron hand ! 
 O thou Marcellus, thunder of the war, 
 Rome's all-subduing, keen-edg'd scimitar ! 
 O Caius Marcius Coriolanus ! known 
 Where'er brave deeds or generous acts were done, 
 Rome's proud, unmatch'd, uncompromising son.
 
 154 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 O Marius, Mucius, Brutus, Cato, where 
 Hide ye your ashes mid your land's despair ? 
 Hath ev'ry spark that noble dust which fir'd, 
 With your majestic, glorious course expir'd ? 
 
 A smile, contemptuous of the scene survey'd, 
 
 About the Envoy's languid features play'd ; 
 
 The rude and simple pomp which decks that throne 
 
 As far unlike the luxury of his own, 
 
 As iron Rome, stern mother of the free, 
 
 To Rome th' enslav'd of vice and luxury. 
 
 Smooth flows the envoy's speech in phrase that trips 
 
 Select and artful o'er his honied lips : — 
 
 " Rome still hath noted with approving eye 
 An ancient Nation's strife for liberty : 
 Rome, free herself, who freedom would bequeath 
 To all who share the gift of vital breath. 
 Keep ye but firmly that ye've nobly won, 
 Uphold the course your glowing wheels have run, 
 Succeeding ages shall your name revere, 
 And history's page glow bright in your career.
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 155 
 
 But know ye this ? E'en now around your land 
 The Arab hordes in threatening myriads stand ? 
 So vast their numbers, with the breath alone 
 Of their proud steeds they cloud the risen sun ; 
 With their thick -prancing hoofs of fire efface 
 Of this fair land each mutilated trace. 
 Fierce is the onset of their matchless horse, 
 Unseen, till trampling down the hostile force. 
 Forth, as strong eagles stooping from the sky, 
 They rend their prey ere yet they meet the eye — 
 A rushing cloud, an earthquake, and no more : 
 The very steel gleams but suffus'd in gore ; 
 The neigh of furious steeds, the crash, the roar, 
 As of a thousand tempests hurlM ashore : 
 Glance round, — an army trampled and o'erthrown, 
 Earth drunk with blood, the dreadful tempest gone. 
 
 " Or be your phalanx staunch, and each firm row 
 Of triple spears impervious to the foe ; 
 Around you wheeling as the falcon flies, 
 Safe from your wrath each vantage point he tries,
 
 156 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 Yields as ye press, and if your dense array 
 
 Show but a ripple in its onward way, 
 
 Thro' that weak point, ere man to man may close, 
 
 Pours in a torrent dense of fiery foes. 
 
 Pursue ? Ye might with equal ease o'ertake 
 
 The glance of lightning quivering o'er the lake ; 
 
 As safely chase the pestilence, to wreak 
 
 Your nerveless vengeance on the foe ye seek. 
 
 That steed, twin brother of the Desert wind, 
 
 As fleet, as fiery, and as hard to bind, 
 
 Is vanish'd ere an onward rood ye've prest : 
 
 The Parthian* sting stands quivering in your breast. 
 
 : Such is your foe, and for each patriot brand 
 A thousand hostile swords wave o'er your land. 
 The States around you mark your certain fate, 
 Your certain fall, like hovering vultures wait ; 
 Rome only, touch'd with pity, grace ordains 
 T' exchange for her free name the proffer'd chains." 
 
 * Parthia was, at this time, a province of the Arabs.
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 157 
 
 " And what Rome's purpose if this grace we crave ? " 
 
 " Then will she stretch her sceptred hand to save, 
 Muster her iron legions from afar, 
 And grant you captains skill'd to rule the war; 
 Nay, should the pastime please dread Caesar's might 
 Himself may deign to sway the field of fight." 
 
 " And what if we despise the matchless grace 
 To be Rome's toys ; to give her armies place 
 In our free land ; th' arena where a king 
 In idle sport the bolt of war may fling ; 
 Pond'ring at ease the orphan's, widow's moan, 
 As fathers, husbands, friends are round him strown ? 
 What if such boon hath nought to tempt our eyes?" 
 
 " Thou trifiest, Prince. It were nor safe nor wise 
 To spurn Rome's proffer'd grace. One only hand 
 Can pluck from ruin's verge your hapless land. 
 That Power, despis'd, may seize the land ye throw 
 Thus at the mercy of her deadliest foe."
 
 158 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 " This then our high alternative, to yield 
 To Rome our rights, without one stricken field, 
 Or fall as heroes fall ? Our lot is ta'en, 
 To wear Death's freedom rather than Rome's chain." 
 
 And thou, gay insect, wing'd from thy sad home, 
 The bloated carcase of once mightiest Rome, 
 Didst thou not tremble as thy lily hand 
 Presum'd to grasp the consecrated wand, 
 Which once Lucullus, Brutus, Scipio sway'd ? 
 Did those soft limbs not shudder when array'd 
 In that dread garb the iron frame which bound 
 Of Marius, Pompey, him with laurel crown'd, 
 Rome's all surpassing, matricidal son ? 
 And com'st thou in the robe in which were won 
 The Punic spoils, Numidia's blazing crown ? 
 From which the Gaul's gigantic host o'erthrown, 
 Fled, howling, to their wilds : Which entry won 
 Through thine inviolate phalanx, Macedon ; — 
 And from the Thracian to th' Iberian shore, 
 From Libya's wilds to where the surges roar
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 159 
 
 Round Thule's utmost isle, resistless sway'd, 
 Hail'd with deep awe and tremblingly obey'd. 
 
 To his pavilion on the surf-sown coast 
 The young Argyllus and his train are past : 
 There, while soft luxury steeps each sense opprest, 
 With guile and treachery swells his artful breast. 
 Then murmurs rose. The Arab, Scythian foes, 
 Threat'ning their land, what madness caus'd them close 
 Their gate 'gainst succours of imperial Rome? 
 What hope their mountain hold could dare alone 
 The world in arms ? Was not the Khalif 's might 
 Alone out-trampling Liberty and Right ? 
 Such the strong feeling which pervades that throng, 
 And shap'd in words finds birth at Chiron's tongue ; 
 Free in his thought, as dauntless in his soul, 
 No dread of misconstruction could control 
 His speech sincere. A lover of his land, 
 None ever doubted of the heart or hand 
 He gave to Freedom's cause. 
 
 Him Dion heard, 
 And answer'd swift: "Chief of the stainless sword,
 
 160 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 What words be these ? When was the eagle's wing 
 
 Found ineffectual from her brood to flino; 
 
 The downward-glancing bolt ? When call'd she one 
 
 Of all the alien tribes around her throne ? 
 
 Or suffer'd to her eyrie's wind-rock'd home 
 
 The vulture bald or dastard kite to come ? 
 
 Are we less noble, less resolv'd than she ? 
 
 Have we no home, no friends, no liberty ? 
 
 Or is it to prolong life's slavish round 
 
 Of sense, breath, motion, that our limbs are bound 
 
 In warrior steel ? Then have we bled in vain, 
 
 To rend a tyrant's, forge a bigot's chain. 
 
 Oh, think not Victory doth in numbers trust: — 
 
 Mycale's strand, Plataea's trampled dust ; 
 
 The wave that murmurs in its glory o'er 
 
 The Persian spoils on Salamis' proud shore; 
 
 The voices of the Mighty, slumbering on, 
 
 Hymn'd by the surge of deathless Marathon ; — 
 
 All, all, as one, the glorious truth attest, 
 
 That Victory shrines her in the Patriot's breast. 
 
 That the base fires of rapine shar'd among 
 
 The hearts of myriads who to conquest throng,
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 161 
 
 Must pale, decay, before th' ethereal fire, 
 Intense, concentrate, our dread rights inspire ; 
 Whose every arm the levin-burden bears, 
 Of a land's vengeance and a nation's tears." 
 
 A tumult strange those thrilling words excite, 
 
 Opinions diverse, clashing in their might. 
 
 Part, by the terrors mov'd which round them press, 
 
 To truceful deeds their anxious thoughts address. 
 
 But in each nobler breast the slumbering flame 
 
 Of freedom kindled at each glorious name 
 
 Of Grecia's hero strand. " Oh, let us rise, 
 
 Friends, brethren, warriors ! if the crowded skies 
 
 Be black with tempest, 'tis that they may show 
 
 In hues more bright the lustre of that bow 
 
 Which our great deeds shall frame. To Death 
 
 we owe 
 One debt, to children and to country one, 
 And one to Virtue. If we can atone 
 In this great sacrifice the claims of all, 
 Blest is our lot, and triumph crowns our fall ; 
 
 11
 
 162 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VI. 
 
 And after ages, pointing to our strand, 
 Our names shall number with tli' illustrious band 
 Who living aye, from age to age inspire 
 Great deeds, and tend the hero's spirit fire." 
 
 " Shades of our mighty Race — dread Powers that reign 
 O'er souls which slavery never shall profane, 
 True to the sacred heritage bequeath'd, 
 We guard the land ye trod, the gales ye breath'd, 
 The rights ye guarded. When we can no more, 
 Or robbers slay, or grasp the blades ye bore ; 
 When, spite of virtue, wisdom, valour, all 
 Freedom's blest fabric totters to its fall ; 
 On that dread ruin, at thine altar's base, 
 Our wives, our friends, our little ones we'll place, 
 Light high the funeral fire, ascend the pile, 
 And leave Earth's slaves our ashes and our smile." 
 
 Such glowing words bear down each faltering doubt, 
 Till the old Euxine's cliffs reverb the shout 
 " Of Indra and our country ! " Indra heard 
 Her name in plaudits blended with the word
 
 CANTO VI.] THE DEFIANCE. 163 
 
 To Freemen dearest. In her heart that fire, 
 Intense and stainless, brighter rose and higher ; 
 Till Difficulty crouch'd and Danger smil'd, 
 And nought seem'd arduous to fair Virtue's child. 
 
 And one there was, whose zeal outstripp'd the rest, 
 
 Whose plaudits spoke a more than patriot breast ; 
 
 Who joining loudly in the thrilling shout, 
 
 Chill'd the heart's glow w T ith many a whisper'd doubt. 
 
 One whose dark, devious path seem'd spangled fair 
 
 With gems that Innocence and Virtue bear. 
 
 No voice like his indignant to assail 
 
 Each vice unpopular that taints the gale : 
 
 No glance so keen, detected guilt to spy, 
 
 And drag unmask'd before the public eye. 
 
 Thus deck'd in seeming Virtue, Virtue lent 
 
 To him her power, but not her pure intent, 
 
 Self his sole worship. Such was Proceus. Few 
 
 His motives scann'd, but Dion read them through. 
 
 Hence Proceus' hatred, bas'd on selfish dread : 
 
 But Dion's thoughts to realm remote were fled ; 
 
 11—2
 
 164 PEOMETHEUS' DAUGHTEE. [CANTO VI. 
 
 He noted not how Proceus' felon eye 
 Jarr'd with the plaudit patriots peal'd on high ; 
 A moment false to country, self, and them. 
 Shades of the Mighty, pause ere ye condemn ! 
 A moment's wandering of the thoughts t' atone, 
 His soul till death is freedom's and your own. 
 
 END OF CANTO VI.
 
 Canto VII. 
 
 THE DETHRONED. 
 
 Dread Nurse of Mystery ! Queen of the Ebon Throne ! 
 Night, eldest-born of Chaos ! Thou, whose hand 
 Sways the dread realm Man vainly deems his own, 
 And rules, despotic, each dire phantom Band 
 That throngs the dim coast of the silent Land : 
 Oh ! thou that questing still the bright-hair'd Sun, 
 Shalt at the end outstrip his car and stand 
 Infolding with thy wing th' arena won, 
 The Heavenly zone where late his wheels of glory run :
 
 166 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 Ere those vast circles thro' the Concave hurl'd 
 The mystic mazes of Existence spun ; 
 Ere o'er the gloom-depths of th' inanimate world 
 The brooding Spirit in dread silence hung, 
 A conflict troubling, whence fair order sprung, 
 A war whose fruit was harmony : didst thou 
 Reign o'er the murky mass, together wrung, 
 The crush'd, blind Chaos, wrapt inert below, 
 Th' abyss in whose blind depths Life's germs lay coil'd in 
 woe. 
 
 And when thine segis rent, the golden shower 
 Wing'd from the Day-god's bow /incessant rain'd 
 O'er half the rip'ning world, thy hold of power 
 Latest arm'd, these mountain wilds remain'd, 
 Where mighty Caucasus the war sustain'd 
 'Gainst Order and the Light. And still thy throne, 
 Majestic most in ruin, hath disdain'd 
 To compromise the rude, scath'd grandeur grown 
 Up thro' the skies, and down to black-wav'd Phlegethon.
 
 CANTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 167 
 
 It is the shadow of thy wing that fills 
 Silent the Chasm's gorge. It is to thee 
 The distant torrent from his hundred hills 
 Lifts the long silent voice. It is to be 
 Nestled beneath thy wing, that ev'ry free 
 Grim child of thine forsakes his cavern'd hold : 
 Roars the gaunt lion in his joy to see 
 Thine eye of gloom : and each gigantic fold 
 The fire-ey'd dragon hurls, volume o'er volume roll'd ; — 
 
 And monarch eremite the deep-voic'd owl 
 Exulting shouts his vespers. And from far, 
 In council group'd, the jackal senate howl 
 Their various watchword of the sylvan war, 
 Then, sudden ceasing, to their beat repair. 
 And surly loitering on his rock-grav'd track 
 Joys in thy shadow deep the burly bear, 
 And prowls the margin of the lakelet black 
 To view, mid stars of Heaven, his grim form render'd 
 back.
 
 168 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 So greets old Caucasus the reign of Night, 
 
 But other sounds the cavern 'd wilds affright. 
 
 Hark their unwonted clang : the steely shock 
 
 Of arm'd hoofs battling with the pavement rock. 
 
 He comes. Who comes? That haughty front, that 
 
 eye 
 Which swarthy glows : that ruin'd majesty 
 And port no more august. Those features, cast 
 In mould, once glorious ; but, the hour is past. 
 That raven steed, so wild of eye and mane, 
 Whose hoofs of fire Earth's contact base disdain. 
 
 He comes. His dark form shadowing e'en the gloom ; 
 The night-breeze ruffles not his hearse-like plume ; 
 Cold gleams the steel upon his warrior breast, 
 Rigid his mien, but not in pledge of rest ; 
 For, flash by flash, those burning eyeballs roll 
 And mark the tempest of an awful soul. 
 Mark, at their flash the lion stills his roar, 
 Droops his proud mane, nor lashes as before
 
 CANTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 169 
 
 His sinewy flank. But meek as unwean'd child 
 
 Resigns the kingship of the savage wild, 
 
 And stealthy stalking, mingles with the night. 
 
 What presence this the fearless can affright, 
 
 The lawless bridle with unsanction 'd chill ? 
 
 Spirits there be in many a tunnell'd hill 
 
 Of Kawf s dread chain, but prison'd all and bound 
 
 In cavern'd adamant of gloom profound, 
 
 Secur'd with spell Iblec's proud will must own, 
 
 The inviolate seal of sceptred Solomon. 
 
 And Genii haunt each vasty chasm there, (13) 
 
 Or cleave with pinion strong th' imprison'd air, 
 
 Vast shapes of gloom : or brood in secret mine, 
 
 Where vainly sought Jumsheed's rich treasures shine. 
 
 Not such the stranger horseman. Each wild thino- 
 Knows the dark port, the vast o'ershadowing wing 
 Of such, nor trembles at his presence drear : 
 A spirit prouder, mightier far, is near. 
 Not at his tread the yawning rocks unfold 
 Their wealth of gems unsunn'd and virgin gold ;
 
 170 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 Not at his word th' ephemeral dome may spring 
 Worthy the palace of the Genii King, 
 But hearts of adamant his mandate own, 
 And human spirits build for him a loftier throne. 
 
 Yon antre vast receives him : and the shock 
 
 Of jarring hoofs is sepulchred in rock. 
 
 But through those cavern'd aisles their murmurs swell, 
 
 Where sullen pools in frozen silence dwell. 
 
 Stern are his features, as, dismounting slow, 
 
 He lights with steel and flint the taper's glow ; 
 
 Tends the hot steed, his sole surviving trust, 
 
 Chafes his stiff limbs, allays the fire, the dust 
 
 His throat that parch with water's fresh'ning tide, 
 
 Spreads his scant store of date fruit bruis'd and 
 
 dried, 
 Then restless roams the cave. 
 
 " Ye shadows deep, 
 Worthy of Erebus. Black waves that creep 
 From Earth's last nucleus. Dismal shapes that flit 
 Where light scarce enters. Mysteries dire unlit
 
 CA.NTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 171 
 
 From your first being by the prying eye 
 
 Of mortal man. If, in Earth's breast there lie 
 
 An access to the Deepest, and the Lord 
 
 Who deepest reigns, ye must that path afford." 
 
 He said: and from his jewell'd scabbard drew 
 
 The blade, as rock-stream glimmering cold and blue 
 
 In the faint ray : and from his arm gave flow 
 
 Life's ruddy current to the pool below : 
 
 That pool so black, whose sullen waters keep 
 
 The trancelike torpor of unhallow'd sleep. 
 
 Slow fell the purple drops, dispersing wide 
 
 Throughout the blind depths of that sullen tide ; 
 
 While with keen blade outstretch'd and frenzied eye, 
 
 And form dilating in its majesty, 
 
 Erectheus stood. 
 
 " Spirit, whose ruin'd state 
 Mine own resembles ! whom, in power elate, 
 I ever honour'd : * and to whom I come, 
 Fall'n like thyself, as to some friendly throne 
 
 * There is a sect in Persia, the Yezidis, who honour Satan, and almost 
 worship him.
 
 172 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 For counsel and for aid. Not fall'n so low, 
 But that, like thee, I bear a regal brow, 
 And claim some worship from th' internal host, 
 Whose fealty forfeit, all indeed were lost. 
 Come from thy fiery throne. Some honour due 
 From thee to him, who ne'er till now did sue 
 Or God or creature. If, as mortals tell, 
 Thou lov'st the pledge of ruddy slaughter well, 
 'Tis thine. Or if thou can'st so near thy throne 
 Endure a spirit haughty as thine own, 
 Who can do aught but bend ; thou hast in me 
 A pent Volcano, charg'd with misery, 
 Blood, terror, woe, to Man's detested brood. 
 Come from thy depths ; the all-unfathom'd flood, 
 Th' abysm of blind terror. If in me 
 Thou find a quailing heart, a trembling knee, 
 Be all the boon denied. Great Spirit, come 
 From the black depths which shroud thy fiery 
 throne." 
 
 'Twas silence all. But in the lakelet's brim 
 A secret power 'gan stir. A vapour dim
 
 CANTO Til.] THE DETHRONED. 173 
 
 First rose in filmy column pale and high, 
 
 Then a pure flame, too bright for mortal eye. 
 
 Then, whirl'd by force unseen, unfelt, the fire 
 
 In spiral volumes brighter gush'd and higher; 
 
 And when once more unclos'd Erechtheus' eye, 
 
 There stood a form of matchless majesty 
 
 Where the bright flame had been. Youth, beauty, grace 
 
 Held their high triumph in that glorious face, 
 
 That free, ethereal form. Such traits become 
 
 No spirit exil'd to eternal gloom ; 
 
 Least the dread kino; of Orcus and of Night. 
 
 Well might they designate a Child of Light, 
 
 But for one discord marring the design, 
 
 Yet ruffling scarce one undulating line 
 
 Of woman's perfect mould. On that pure brow 
 
 Was thron'd command, and the deep eye did glow 
 
 A lambent sea of mystery. As they stood 
 
 Confronted, separate by the murky flood, 
 
 Better that mortal match'd in ruin'd state 
 
 The desolate pomp of Hell's dire Potentate, 
 
 Than she, that wondrous, fairest, summon'd Tiling, 
 
 Whose beauty, startling Night's reluctant wing,
 
 174 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 Hung like some isle of Light, mid the profound. 
 She might have been their queen triumphant crown'd, 
 Who, fairest of their sex, lent willing ear 
 To the love-pleading of a Heavenly sphere. 
 
 All musical, yet deep, the accents fell, 
 " Mortal, thy wish ?" But thro' each inmost cell 
 Of heart and memory tumult strange awoke, 
 Thrilling each sense as thus Erechtheus spoke : — 
 " The master-spirit of th' Abyss I sought, 
 Fair Thing, not thee. Think'st thou one stormy thought 
 Pent in this breast could company with thine ? " 
 
 He paus'd, abrupt, confounded ; for each line 
 Of feminine gentleness Avas past away, 
 And that broad brow, above the vivid play 
 Of the keen lightning glance, impended now 
 Like some down-gliding avalanche of snow, 
 That late repos'd, swath 'd in prismatic light, 
 A fairy treasure on the mountain height, 
 And now, mid thundering rocks and lightnings hurl'd, 
 Prepares destruction for th' affrighted World.
 
 CANTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 175 
 
 More dire the change, that thro' the discord wild, 
 Traits of that startling, dazzling beauty smil'd, 
 As thro' murk shadows brooding in a lake 
 Thrill'd by the thunder's jar, bright ripples break 
 In lines of silver. Every ghastly care 
 Pent in his breast had found reflection there. 
 Yet woman's still those traits, as woman's prove 
 When her heart maddens unrequited love. 
 Again the Vision spake, tho' chang'd her tone : — 
 
 " Mortal, thy wish?" Erechtheus' doubts were gone. 
 He answer'd deep, and Hell the sound reverb'd. 
 
 " Vengeance." 
 
 "On whom?" 
 
 " On all. The ruthless sword 
 Of indiscriminate ruin." 
 
 " Is there none 
 Thou would'st except? Friend, sister, lover, son?" 
 
 " Friend, sister, lover ! Ha ! the names full well 
 Suit the bleak echoes of the caves of Hell. 
 The time hath been I too could mouth each name, 
 Nor deem'd that mockery in the accents came,
 
 176 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 For I was powerful, noble, wise, renown'd, 
 
 And at my beck were wealth and honour found. 
 
 But Discord rose, rebellion shook my throne : — 
 
 Then was it virtue to pull tyrants down. 
 
 'Twas wise at least t' anticipate their fate, 
 
 And build fresh fortunes on their ruin'd state. 
 
 A Tyrant ! Yes ! The power was mine, and still 
 
 I rul'd the Nation with a lordly will ; 
 
 Else had I been more abject than the herd 
 
 Who curs'd the yoke their slavish necks endur'd. 
 
 Yet I was kind, was bountiful, and threw 
 
 My gifts ungrudging to the villain crew ; 
 
 Crush'd but the noxious reptiles in my path, 
 
 Nor grudg'd life's boon to things beneath my wroth. 
 
 But past the lethargy : and they who view'd 
 
 The slumbering lion in his couchant mood, 
 
 Shall But enough. Our present will made known, 
 
 Spirit, what answer from the fiery throne ?" 
 
 " Thy will ! poor child of dust. Allegiance swear, 
 Bend thy proud knee, prefer thine humble prayer, 
 Then meekly bide our will."
 
 CANTO YII.] THE DETHRONED. 17 
 
 " Hah ! is thy might 
 So vast ? So curb'd thy knowledge and thy sight ? 
 Claim'st thou of me allegiance, still denied 
 To him who made thee and thy boundless pride ? 
 What, bend to one not second e'en in sway, 
 And change for thine the fetters rent away ? 
 Is knowledge power ? If so, what trust in thee, 
 Whose sight grasps not the World this eye can 
 
 see ? 
 Spirit, my purpose, in thy coming, done, 
 Return and worship at thy Master's throne, 
 No lord of mine. Henceforth I rest my trust 
 For power malign on instruments of dust ; 
 Thy peers in knowledge, yet content to be 
 My slaves, nor fealty dreaming of, from me. 
 Deeply I err'd to deem Hell could impart 
 A power more dark, more potent than Man's heart. 
 Back to thy lord : — and henceforth would ye sway 
 Stern, mortal hearts, trust solely in the ray 
 Of thine excelling beauty. Time hath known 
 Worlds, for a stake less glorious, lost and won." 
 
 12
 
 178 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO Til. 
 
 He said. And o'er that wondrous count'nance glass'd 
 
 Tides of emotion deep successive pass'd. 
 
 Seem'd it as there the Stygian billows hurl'd 
 
 Their spectre myriads o'er some Eden world. 
 
 Erectheus' self appall'd might scarce endure 
 
 A glance, that search'd the hidden realm obscure 
 
 Of the dread soul ; his eye beneath it fell, 
 
 His heart an instant paus'd ; then in the swell 
 
 Of pride rebounding rose. His glance borne down 
 
 He rais'd indignant : but the Form was gone : 
 
 A spire of flame its jet effulgent bore 
 
 Up from the spot, where stood that form no more ; 
 
 Then, leaping to the roof expir'd, and left 
 
 Thick gloom without — within, a spirit reft — 
 
 Of what ? Of all. The presence that anon 
 
 Had part and parcel of his being grown, 
 
 His world of sympathies : — unlov'd 'tis true, 
 
 Yet precious deem'd and mourn'd when borne from 
 
 view. 
 He call'd her — but his voice, reverb'd and thrown 
 Prom rock to rock, until each anxious tone
 
 CAN10 VII.] THE DETHRONED. 179 
 
 Had caught the cavern's demon gloom, came back 
 Unanswer'd. O'er that pool of waters black 
 He stretch'd again his glaive, again gave flow 
 The ruddy lifestream to the tide below, 
 And utter'd words of power. But, no reply, 
 Save the lone echo's hellish mockery, 
 Into the void of silence, darkling fell. 
 He shook his blade, and every fiend of Hell 
 In turn defied. Low yells of distant mirth 
 Rippled the pool and thrill'd the steadfast Earth. 
 
 He seiz'd the taper, and with hasty stride 
 
 Press'd toward the spot where rose by turns and 
 
 died 
 That mockery wild. Scarce might the trembling ray 
 Warn him of pools and fissures deep that lay 
 Before his random step. But onward still 
 The sounds allure him. Seeming now to fill 
 The space around : now dying dim and far, 
 Scarce thrill night's silence with their sullen jar. 
 Now turns he, startled by a frantic cry : 
 The warm breath smites him, but no form is nigh. 
 
 12 2
 
 180 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 His whirling blade wounds but the airy tides, 
 And mockery wild his fell intent derides. 
 
 Thus onward urging still his steps, he came 
 To a black chasm's verge. The taper's flame 
 In the dense night a blood-red speck appear'd, 
 Whose rays were stifled as the verge he near'd. 
 Th' abysm black nor sight nor sound affords 
 To thrill sensation thro' her hidden chords. 
 A void, wherein the shuddering sense was thrown, 
 Its pole-star, compass, helm and pilot gone : 
 While self, dilating that dire void to fill, 
 CVerflow'd, an ocean fathomless of ill. 
 
 Downward that pit might pierce the hidden keep 
 Where Death's dire secrets with Oblivion sleep ; 
 So dead the hush, 'twas torture to sustain 
 A nerve's least thrill, the tremor of a vein, 
 A restless thought, that plunging like some stone 
 Into the bosom of the Dead Sea thrown 
 Despair's cold thrill stirr'd sluggishly and lone.
 
 CANTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 181 
 
 At length the trancement broke. Far, far below, 
 Thousands of dreary leagues ; perchance where 
 
 flow 
 The sluggish waves of Phlegethon, a beam 
 Of faintest light upon his eye 'gan stream : 
 So dim, no nerve in darkness less intense 
 Had been its herald to the frame of sense ; 
 And yet so welcome. Round its fickle hue 
 The rallying spirit to a focus drew 
 Its powers suspent, while aye in bulk it grew. 
 It grew, as twilight grows in Arctic skies, 
 Languid and sickly on the watcher's eyes. 
 A space, perchance an hour, and it is now 
 A spark distinct amid the void below — 
 An equal space, and plainly was discern'd 
 A globe of dazzling flame that fiercely burn'd 
 In ever-changeful hue. Now nearer grown, 
 It shows a sphere of flames tumultuous thrown 
 Like breakers raging round some islet coast : 
 And now, so swift its progress, sense is lost 
 In the delirious whirl, the lightning flash, 
 The rush, the roar, the madd'ning, deafening crash
 
 182 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO TIL 
 
 Of fire-tides battling with the waves of night, 
 And hurtling madly with an ocean's might. 
 Around, the gloom-tides clos'd. Their pitchy shroud 
 Strangled each ray that from the fire-orb flow'd, 
 Which, in its own fierce flame consuming, gave 
 No gleam to tinge the black chaotic wave. 
 
 Erectheus gaz'd. Undazzled was his eye : 
 His ear receiv'd a groan of agony : 
 Came it from thence ? or from his own firm heart ? 
 From each, from both. He felt the burning dart 
 Of horror infinite. He saw — he knew 
 Himself, his being, in the flames that drew 
 His spell-bound gaze ; his essence molten there 
 In quenchless fires of horror and despair. 
 
 Awhile, that burning Orb, self-pois'd, delay'd 
 Within the chasm's gorge, as slow decay'd 
 The upward impetus : — then, plunging, sped 
 Beneath, collecting potence as it fled. 
 It sank ; and with it sank Erectheus' eye, 
 His heart, his mind ; the very constancy
 
 CANTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 183 
 
 That had so much endur'd. He needed not 
 A voice to warn him. There he read his lot, 
 His fate — for ever. 
 
 And an answer came, 
 A whisper from that whirling globe of flame, 
 " For ever." 
 
 And whilst, drown'd in pitchy shade 
 Of the dread Gulf, those sinking fires decay'd, 
 He sigh'd, " For ever." And an echo lone, 
 Sole echo of that pit, gave back the tone, 
 " For ever." 
 
 Guardians of the human race, 
 Depute of Heaven with your high thoughts to grace 
 Man's petty need, and your dread segis spread 
 Around his sinking spirit, — were ye fled 
 One, all in that dark hour ? 
 
 Scorn 'd, defied, 
 There linger'd yet one seraph azure-ey'd 
 About his ruin'd heart. Her accents broke 
 His spirit's sullen trance and gently woke 
 The sole sweet chord that in his bosom strung, 
 Felt Hope's vibration, whilst the World was young,
 
 184 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VII. 
 
 From that fair hour renew'd the hallow'd strain, 
 And brought the Past on Memory's waft again. 
 O buried joys ! O fancies ever new ! 
 Springing to grace the spot where being grew ; 
 Soon were your petals scatter'd by the blast, 
 Yet lives their odour, precious to the last. 
 And oft the foot of Guilt in mid-career 
 Hath met of those sweet germs one leaflet sere 
 Strewn in his path, and turn'd aside to spare 
 The hallow'd symbol of an hour so fair. 
 And thus, Destruction's baseless chasm spread 
 Before his step ; his stern and desperate tread 
 Crumbling its verge, Dreams of the olden year 
 Chain'd his mad step, delay'd his fierce career, 
 Unmann'd his spirit : gave him once again 
 The power of choice — to be, as he had been, 
 Or burst the bonds of Darkness. 
 
 Deep he sigh'd : 
 " Oh ! had this mood stol'n o'er me ere the pride 
 Of pomp and power had left me, lonely cast, 
 Like stranded bark that never to the blast
 
 CANTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 185 
 
 Again its sail shall spread, again give flow 
 
 Its silken streamer, as the light gales blow. 
 
 But now, to crouch because the wing is rent ; 
 
 To prostrate the proud spirit, while unspent 
 
 Its vital energies ; to yield to Power 
 
 The claims denied in Fortune's palmy hour — 
 
 Hell's blackest shade like sunny gleam would show 
 
 Compar'd with such deep infamy of woe." 
 
 He ceas'd ; for rising from the gulf there stood 
 A meteor flame. The comet's hue of blood, 
 The comet's glaive-like form it seem'd to bear, 
 Such as, when streaming on the midnight air, 
 'Tis by pale Nations view'd. Now closer grown, 
 A wavy scimitar, self-pois'd, it shone 
 O'er the black chasm's void. Upon the blade 
 Which flam'd intolerable light, there play'd 
 Blue, necromantic characters — " The sword 
 Of indiscriminate ruin." Fate had heard 
 His dire appeal. That sword before him hung, 
 Wooing Ins grasp. 
 
 Fierce o'er the verge he sprung
 
 186 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO TIL 
 
 Into the blind abyss, the hilt to clasp, 
 
 Death infinite beneath him. Had his grasp 
 
 Fail'd of its fateful aim, he ne'er had risen 
 
 From the black, hellish womb of the abysm ; 
 
 But thro' Earth's centre plunging to those seas 
 
 And isles where roam th' unblest Antipodes, (14) 
 
 And thence returning, only to renew 
 
 The downward plunge Earth's murky nucleus through ; 
 
 Librating thus while Ages roll away, 
 
 Helpless, uncheer'd of sun or planet's ray ; 
 
 But settling, aye by gradients sure, tho' slow, 
 
 Down to Earth's centre dire of gloom and woe, 
 
 Shudd'ring to close e'en that all-torturous flight 
 
 In blank inanity's more awful night. 
 
 Such had befall'n, but that his warrior hand 
 Grasp'd firm the hilt of the enchanted brand, 
 And, buoyant o'er the frightful gulf upborne, 
 He trod its gloom-tides, as some velvet lawn 
 At midnight hour is trod. Throughout his blood 
 The touch of that dread sword diffus'd a flood
 
 CANTO VII.] THE DETHRONED. 187 
 
 Of stern and fiery zeal. Exulting high, 
 
 He wav'd it o'er his brow. The torturous cry 
 
 Of human myriads, mingling with the yell 
 
 Of mocking fiends, fill'd the black gorge of hell. 
 
 No spark of mercy kindled at the cry ; 
 
 No softness, drawn in helpless infancy 
 
 From the sweet bosom, stor'd with life for him, 
 
 Answer'd that challenge dire. The twilight dim 
 
 Of human sympathy, so long o'ercast 
 
 By passion's storm-wrack, was for ever past ; 
 
 And such fierce joy as deadliest foemen feel 
 
 O'er victims strown in thought beneath their steel 
 
 Scorch'd his consuming heart. With loftier stride 
 
 And eye red gleaming in its murderous pride, 
 
 He left the Chasm ; lighted on his way 
 
 By the dire weapon's baleful, blood-red ray. 
 
 END OF CANTO VII.
 
 Canto VIII. 
 THE AVENGER. 
 
 TO PONTUS.* 
 
 Thou dark, portentous flood, whose plombless caves 
 Earth's adamantine skeleton explore, 
 Engulfing far beneath thy rolling waves 
 Records of Ages past for evermore. 
 There, where thou treasurest up the hallow'd store, 
 Their scaly folds thy living monsters trail : 
 O'er brazen beak of many an antique prore, 
 Which plough'd the Deep ere Argo loos'd her sail, 
 The Mermaid smooths her sea-green hair and lifts her 
 plaintive wail. 
 
 * The Euxine was anciently so called.
 
 190 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 O'er many a brazen shield of warrior old, 
 Whom vengeful Juno scatter'd o'er the Deep ; 
 When ten years' toil had sapp'd the Trojan hold, 
 And dire Achilles slept the leaden sleep : 
 Thro' gorgets' silver clasp green serpents creep, 
 The sea-dog whelps in fierce Oileus' targe, 
 Rots the keen blade which caus'd the widow weep, 
 And they who rally here, and they who charge, 
 Are Proteus' scaly troop ; plum'd wave and iron marge. 
 
 From wintry dungeons, hated of the sun, 
 Their icy fetters rending to be free, 
 With bound on bound five river giants run 
 To meet and blend, and be absorb'd in thee. 
 Here huge Tanais* hurls his billowy sea, 
 Clanking the ice-links which around him cling ; 
 There hoarse Borysthenes f roars out his glee, 
 And Tyras | and his mate rude greeting fling, 
 And deep, majestic Ister§ rolls the tribute of a king. 
 
 * Tanais, the Don. f Bory sthenes, the Dnieper. 
 
 J Tyras, the Neister ; his mate is the Bog, the ancient name of which 
 is doubtful. § Ister, the Danube.
 
 CANTO Till.] THE AVENGER. 191 
 
 Rugged thy vassals of the watery flood, 
 And strange and wild the peoples of thy shore, 
 The grim Sarmatian, quaffer of Man's blood, 
 With paint deform 'd and terrible in war. 
 Here, on his wild steed wanders evermore 
 The quiver'd Scythian, restless as the wind ; 
 The frantic Thracian wastes thy western shore ; 
 And here, his home in Earth's dark bowels min'd, 
 The dim Cimmerian darkly dwells with Chaos old and 
 blind. 
 
 The snowy Desert sent its tempest forth, 
 To meet the whirlwind from thy mountain caves ; 
 They wreck'd each frail bark in their frantic wrath 
 Disclos'd thy mysteries, heavenward hurl'd thy waves ; 
 And where thy flood, abhorring, shakes and laves 
 Old Colchis' haunted, venom-blighted shore, 
 Medea's sorcery sun, moon, stars enslaves ; 
 And, high above the elemental war, 
 The wail of prison'd ghosts wild rises evermore.
 
 1 92 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CAKTO VIII. 
 
 And downward gazing from his throne of clouds, 
 The mountain King, Elborus, fills the sky : 
 His regal feet the thunder-pall enshrouds, 
 His shafts, red fire-bolts, glittering as they fly ; 
 His \oice the thunder's deep-ton'd majesty, 
 Hurling the deadly avalanche afar : 
 But his dread brow, o'er storm-clouds lifted high, 
 Dwells where no dissonance his peace may mar ; 
 
 And culminates, his crown to gem, Heaven's bright, 
 ascendant Star. 
 
 The old Man bask'd before his hermit cave, 
 The mossy rock a welcome shelter gave : 
 For thro' his veins no dancing life-streams play, 
 And his dim eye scarce drinks the cheerful ray. 
 Past like th' autumnal waft each bosom true 
 To early plight ; his joys be dim and few ; 
 Yet many thoughts crowd o'er his spirit lone, 
 His cares be many. They commerge in one, 
 One beauteous dream, that at the midnight hour 
 Revives the past with all its buried power ;
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 193 
 
 One blessed sungleam, finding yet its way 
 
 Thro' portals barr'd against the blaze of day. 
 
 The grey dog fondly at his feet reclined, 
 
 Slumber'd the while or snuff'd the mountain 
 
 wind ; 
 Or, wistful gazing, sought the eye so dim, 
 Yet priz'd beyond day's cheery light by him. 
 Men say the shadows of the future, glass'd 
 O'er the seer's eye, at times be dimly cast 
 On his, that ancient friend, so grey, so wan — 
 Sole, sad remembrancer of joys bygone. 
 
 Sudden from rest his head the grey dog rais'd, 
 And down the sunlit glade intensely gaz'd, 
 Then deeply bay'd ; yet Echo scarce replied 
 Ere the glad note in utter silence died : 
 In that deep bay a friend the prophet knew, 
 But marvell'd whence the awestruck silence grew. 
 At length his ear a footstep faint discerns, 
 And his dim eye with sudden radiance burns 
 Of warrior steel, and his heart-pulses own 
 
 The thrilling music of a voice unknown. 
 
 13
 
 194 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 Save for his land, hope, fear long laid at rest, 
 What means the tumult of the old man's breast ? 
 
 " Peace," said the Voice, " its sacred halo shed 
 O'er the white locks which grace the patriot's head. 
 Or doth the spirit world absorb thy care ? 
 Or for thy country hast thou yet a prayer ? " 
 
 " A prayer, my child ? Oh ! yes, while this old 
 tongue 
 Is with one prayer, one faltering blessing strung, — 
 That prayer, that blessing, one their end and aim, 
 Shall fondly vibrate but my country's name. 
 Peace to the messenger of peace : dost bear 
 Tidings may glad the patriot's anxious ear ? " 
 
 " The Arab from his desert, from his wild 
 Threatens our realm the frozen Scythia's child. 
 Rome calls the towers of Constantine beneath 
 Her strong sea-eagles to the feast of Death. 
 O'ercast our native heaven ; afar and near 
 Rolls black the thunder. Patriot, dost thou fear ? "
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 19; 
 
 " Great is the Khalif's might. The Scythian host 
 Countless as waves that lash our iron coast. 
 Rome is an eagle, whose vast eyrie, furl'd 
 Mid clouds, bears fragments of a mangled world. 
 But, greater than the triple host is she, 
 Heaven's child, fair Virtue's nursling, Liberty. 
 When sapp'd our Virtue, Heaven no longer dear, 
 My prince, then ask the old Man of his fear." 
 
 " Thy prince ! Thou wanderest, Father." 
 
 " Did I say 
 My prince ? Not oft these wither'd lips betray 
 A thought which links the great Prometheus' son, 
 And our blest, suffering country's cause in one." 
 
 " Thou know'st our King, this Dion ? Is he, then, 
 Worthy the sceptre of the first of Men ? " 
 
 " Call him not king ; dishonour not a name 
 Shall soon rise highest on the scroll of Fame. 
 Ay, o'er th' imperishable names of song, 
 Th' immobile rocks that breast Time's current strong, 
 Pass thou thy glance, the noblest theme recall, 
 But know thy Dion shall o'ertower them all." 
 
 13—2
 
 196 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO Till. 
 
 •• Afy Dion?" 
 
 " Said I thine ? By this I know 
 My country's friend, each lawless spoiler's foe. 
 For to love Dion is sworn friend to be 
 To country's cause, Truth, Justice, Liberty. 
 And tho' ofttimes a spirit sway my tongue, 
 And dark words mingle with the Old Man's song, 
 Yet Heaven from error guards the voice erst known 
 To Man, promulging oracles her own." 
 
 " Compose thy thoughts. Thine aged steps I'll guide 
 Where yon bleak height no lurking spy may hide. 
 Fear not to lean upon an arm so frail, 
 'Twill not beneath a patriot's burden fail. 
 Alas ! how many an arm scarce match'd in might 
 With treason bands 'gainst liberty and right ! " 
 
 " My son," the old man said, withdrawing slow 
 His arm and gazing on the stranger's brow, 
 " Who art thou, that my spirit feels thy might, 
 And stands rebuk'd and awestruck in thy sight ?
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 197 
 
 Dim are mine eyes, and turn'd on thee discern 
 But plumes that wave and flashing rays that burn 
 As 'twere from warrior steel. But when mine ear 
 Drinks in thy voice, far other forms be near : 
 Visions of glory and of old renown, — 
 Land of my love, ah ! can they be thine own ? — 
 Foreshow thy future as thy wake they throng, 
 Turning Time's jarring dissonance to song ? " 
 
 " They can — they shall," replied that thrilling tongue ; 
 " 'Twere impious but to doubt. I, too, pertain 
 To country, freedom, truth's august domain. 
 But now our ancient virtue was thy boast. 
 Alas ! foul treason mid our warrior host 
 And in our senate lurks. Anon they bear 
 O'er the deep Euxine to the Roman ear 
 Terms which resign our fleet without a blow, 
 And pave a golden highway to the foe. 
 Their bark I found. Their youthful pilot I 
 Hold captive — at the helm his place supply. 
 The deep, dark Euxine, guardian of our coast, 
 Shall reap one triumph o'er the traitorous host."
 
 198 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 "And thou?" 
 
 " And I their hideous crime atone. 
 Of freedom's fane the humblest building stone. 
 But list thee, Father. Obstinate in ill, 
 Nor threat nor hope can move the captive's will ; 
 Nor star nor landmark can I learn to shape 
 Our fateful passage toward Sinope's cape ; 
 The very watchword lack I. Grant it be 
 (My last, fond hope) reveal'd, old Seer, to thee, 
 Recall from Earth thy thoughts." 
 
 The old man rais'd 
 His eyes to Heaven, and fixedly he gaz'd, 
 Like one whose spirit soars awhile to prove 
 Congenial commerce with the World above. 
 Stay'd on his staff those bloodless hands are spread, 
 The thin, grey locks stream backward from his head ; 
 Ic'd their mobility, his features grow 
 Rigid as granite of the mountain brow, 
 Chisell'd by tempests. Sudden from his eye 
 So glaz'd and rayless, flashing lightnings fly, 
 Convulsive spasms shake his aged frame, 
 Then nerve its powers with more than earthly flame :
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 199 
 
 The drooping form uprises in its might, 
 And towers colossal on the awestruck sight ; 
 The deep lines channell'd o'er his cheek and brow 
 Are flooded first, then drown'd beneath th' o'erflow 
 Of supernatural light. His arms, no more 
 Drooping and nerveless, but replete with power, 
 Are stretch'd on high, and round th' horizon move, 
 Where sleeps the land, fond object of his love. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " he cried, " upon her brow it lies, 
 Heaven's dew of blessing with its rainbow dyes. 
 I see, I see her in her budding bloom, 
 A maid awaken'd from the silent gloom, 
 The trancelike torpor of long ages : free 
 Her step in grace and virgin dignity. 
 On her fair brow the warrior's crested helm 
 Conceals Prometheus' ancient diadem. 
 Dread lightnings quiver in her sceptred hand, 
 Her eye is throne to Virtue's high command : 
 Beauty and grace her matchless form invest 
 With terrors, own'd of every throbbing breast.
 
 200 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 Truth waves the banner o'er her head, and shine 
 Her virgin footsteps with a grace divine." 
 
 He ceas'd. The eye that dazzled with its light 
 Like meteor's blaze flash'd, set in sudden night. 
 Fail'd from his limbs the momentary fire, 
 His features' glow and youthful grace expire, 
 Totter his knees. Or e'er the youth could stay 
 His sinking form, extended cold it lay 
 Gasping for life. Vain seein'd each tender art 
 To re-allume the embers of the heart. 
 And when his hermit-cave, half borne, half led, 
 He gain'd, and sank on his rude leafy bed, 
 'Twas long ere Calthas ventur'd to inquire : 
 " Time presses. Duty onward becks, my sire. 
 Say, was the word reveal'd?" 
 
 " Not to the Seer, 
 My child. Yet speed thee on, with heart of cheer, 
 Assur'd that signs shall pilot thee along 
 And words of credence shall imbue thy tongue. 
 Alas, that fate so sad should threaten thee. 
 Is thine arm skill'd to cleave the billowy sea ? "
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGEK. 201 
 
 " It matters not. But I the pilot's lore 
 Have learn'd in wandering late the Euxine shore. 
 Farewell. Remember Calthas." 
 
 " Dark our day 
 And full of woe, when price like this must pay 
 Our country's freedom. Heaven requite the boon 
 With after bliss. Farewell ! my son, my son." 
 
 Day wan'd ere yet the youthful warrior stood 
 
 Above the Euxine's blue, far-rolling flood ; 
 
 Intensely gaz'd where wide those waters flow, 
 
 Then diving sought the shelter'd creek below, 
 
 Where from each cliff the noddino- forests brood, 
 
 And form at noon a twilight solitude. 
 
 Here slumber'd on the tide a fairy skiff 
 
 Mid shrubs and wild-flowers of th' inverted cliff ; — 
 
 So still, no ripple trembled from its side 
 
 With silvery cleft the mirror to divide : 
 
 Folden her sail ; her oars the rude deck strow, 
 
 The seagull perch'd upon her idle prow ; 
 
 The silence of the forest gain'd a tone 
 
 More deep from presence of a thing so lone,
 
 202 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 Late redolent of life — now dead as be 
 
 The rocks which wall that armlet of the sea. 
 
 A searching glance young Calthas round him threw, 
 
 Then stepp'd aboard, his cloak around him drew, 
 
 And on the gunnel silently reclin'd, 
 
 Liv'd o'er the scene with memory-haunted mind. 
 
 Before him spreads his own, his fathers' sea. 
 
 Around, his forests and his hills are free. 
 
 Ah, why hath Heaven to Man the boon denied 
 
 Of spirit, fetterless as mount and tide ? 
 
 Why, rather, Man, hast thou the boon forsworn 
 
 To which with ocean-flood and mountain born ? 
 
 Why must each dawn of freedom lour opprest 
 
 With deepest boding to the patriot's breast ? 
 
 So Calthas mus'd. But soon his thoughtful mood 
 Was chas'd by footsteps from the tangled wood. 
 Onward, in number five, th' intruders came. 
 The first, of martial air and giant frame, 
 Whose firm yet careless step accorded well 
 With the bold glance which dazzled where it fell,
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 203 
 
 And brow as iron-bound as rocks that brave 
 The blue iEgean's far resounding wave. 
 His step was on the plank when sudden stay'd 
 By one whose mien the courtier's craft betray'd, 
 Who, cautious glancing as he forward press'd, 
 In honied tone the watchful youth address'd. 
 " Art owner of this bark, fair youth ? " 
 
 " Not I ; 
 Your pilot simply." 
 
 " Thou shouldst know where lie 
 Rock, reef, and whirlpool ? " 
 
 " In the night hath sprung 
 A hidden reef: the whirling tides be strong. 
 But we, like Ocean-waves, the rock will leap, 
 And with the whirlpool spoil the wealthy Deep. 
 Art answer'd ? " 
 
 " Youth, I am. Fair comrades, cheer ; 
 Staunch is our guide, ye now have nought to fear." 
 
 " And when had we to fear?" a deep voice said, 
 Of foreign accent.
 
 204 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 " When we doubted aid 
 Of Tywold." 
 
 " Truce to honied words. Yon slow, 
 Scarce-crawling chief, what chains the laggard now ? 
 Thrust off from shore ; for boys we tarry not, 
 Nor female ballast need to trim our boat. 
 Seize thou yon oar, Demetrius. This for me ; 
 Now float we freely o'er the dark blue sea. 
 Youth, mind the helm." 
 
 Soon shot the gallant skiff 
 From rocks and shadows of the sheltering cliff, 
 And currents false that swathe the mountain round ; 
 And like a sea-bird, scap'd from prison-bound, 
 Flutters with joy awhile the snowy sail, 
 Then fills its bosom with the rising gale, 
 And o'er the dancing waves, mid showery spray 
 Bears the light craft upon her fateful way. 
 And now might Calthas more at leisure mark 
 His fellow voy'gers in the destin'd bark. 
 
 Familiar to his eye was one whose traits 
 
 Once stamp'd on memory, Time might scarce erase.
 
 CANTO Till.] THE AVENGER. 205 
 
 He sate reclining in the weather bow, 
 
 His right hand propp'd and shaded his pale brow, 
 
 His lofty front with furrows scarr'd, and fine 
 
 Of his sharp profile every chisell'd line. 
 
 Th' habitual sneer his plastic lips that dress'd, 
 
 At fitting season could be all supprest, 
 
 For he the statesman's, patriot's role had play'd, 
 
 And Proceus' counsel still the senate sway'd. 
 
 His restless glance, a serpent of the soul, 
 
 With stealthy glide from space to object stole, 
 
 The thoughts of men now plundering ; and anon 
 
 Wand'ring the circle of the heavenly zone, 
 
 Weighing the airy currents and the host 
 
 Of black clouds mustering on the mountain coast, 
 
 Or searching some unguarded pass, to dart 
 
 A pleasing, mortal venom to man's heart. 
 
 In strongest contrast rose upon the sight 
 
 The rugged form and superhuman might 
 
 Of Tywold. Nurtur'd in a foreign land, \ 
 
 A daring spirit and a matchless hand i 
 
 Preferr'd him early to a chief command. j
 
 206 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO Till. 
 
 But Nature with the fires that fus'd his soul 
 
 Had blent the pride that will not brook control. 
 
 And, stormy as the prison'd blast that raves 
 
 To rend its freedom from dread iEtna's caves, 
 
 The jar of anarchy, the battle's din, 
 
 The camp's rude licence — these were life for him. 
 
 He might have scorn'd his inmost thought to mask, 
 
 Had any dar'd his confidence to task. 
 
 His shrewd, keen spirit grappled at a bound 
 
 The fact, which Proceus quested like the hound ; 
 
 Swift deeds his speech : and his th' instinctive might 
 
 By which the Forest King maintains his right. 
 
 " Confusion to the laggart breeze," he cried, 
 As he the bellying sail impatient eyed. 
 " Has the old Euxine in his thousand caves 
 No storm to drive our vessel thro' the waves, 
 The life-blood thro' our veins ? " 
 
 "Now, heaven deny 
 That prayer," cried Brastus, glaring on the sky. 
 " Seest not, e'en now, o'erstrained the creaking mast, 
 The billows curling in the freshen'd blast ?
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 207 
 
 And yon black clouds the mountain peaks that deck 
 And gird the waist of giant Kazibek : 
 Methinks our fortune we may hug, if there 
 Destruction lurk not in the tempest lair." 
 
 " To speak of tempest on the curling wave 
 In open boat is Fate's worst plague to brave." 
 
 Full on the speaker Calthas' glance was turn'd, 
 And read in sullen eye, that smouldering burn'd 
 Like charnel meteor, and in lips comprest, 
 A grov'ling mind, a grossly selfish breast, 
 A spirit hingeing, doggedly and slow, 
 On sordid greed or slavish dread of woe. 
 
 " I," said a voice of giddy folly, heard 
 Thro' the dense tangles of a snowy beard, 
 " I ask'd the Seer our fortune. His reply 
 Hath right good zest of mirth and pleasantry. 
 
 " Madman," cried Proceus, off his caution thrown, 
 " Consult the Seer ! whose inmost heart is known 
 To Dion the Impostor?"
 
 208 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 " Fear not thou," 
 Mimas replied, with disconcerted brow. 
 " I veil'd in tropes our voy'ge ; inquir'd the fate 
 That might the Fawn (so nam'd our bark) await, 
 Who to the Eagle's fostering wing would fly. 
 'Twill stir your mirth to hear his sage reply ; 
 How think ye fram'd ? " 
 
 " How, how ? " cried Brastus, fear 
 In voice and gesture quivering. 
 
 " Thou shalt hear : 
 ' For fawn of treacherous heart the lair is strown 
 Mid coral pastures of a shore unknown.' " 
 
 The old man's chuckle died upon the ear, 
 And left an awestruck pause of silence drear, 
 And startled looks, that each from other seek 
 Relief, yet add but pallor to the cheek ; 
 Proceus himself an instant sate aghast : 
 Tywold alone no portent could o'ercast. 
 Proceus the silence broke. 
 
 " No prophet's eye 
 Need we to read the aspect of the sky.
 
 CANTO Till.] THE AVENGER. 209 
 
 Yonder the tempest rages, hurrying down 
 With giant stride from his dread mountain throne. 
 Tempest and midnight gloom be portents plain ; 
 Who reads them not hath gift of sight in vain. 
 Seek we yon port, there anchor'd ride till morn, 
 Then speed, with mast unshatter'd, sail untorn : 
 So, wisdom, heedless of an old man's prate, 
 Shall, full forewarn'd, elude th' impending fate." 
 
 The old man laugh'd, and Tywold's frown grew dark, 
 
 But eager join'd their comrades of the bark 
 
 In vote with Proceus. " Youth," he said. " give 
 
 way; 
 Put round the helm and seek yon shelter'd bay." 
 
 " At peril of your life," exclaim'd the stern 
 Deep voice of Ty wold ; " wave nor wind shall turn 
 My course while holds unshatter'd sail or oar. 
 Let him who dreads the tempest swim ashore." 
 
 His haughty, stern, commanding spirit sway'd 
 Their meaner souls : their very fears outweigh'd. 
 
 14
 
 210 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 In silence they pursued their voy'ge, or heard 
 
 Alone, like clang of some ill-omen'd bird, 
 
 The old man's laugh. Abruptly Tywold broke 
 
 The silence ; each half started as he spoke. 
 
 '• How saith the Consul ? How should bear at dawn 
 
 His fleet?" 
 
 " Beneath Sinope's cape 'tis drawn," 
 Proceus replied. " Our own lies moor'd, beyond 
 Hieron's cape at wave-lash'd Trebizond. 
 Dwindled Rome's mighty soul since Caesar's day ; 
 Nor dare her huge Triremes provoke th' affray 
 Unlicens'd by our will, with that frail fleet 
 Equipped in haste their hostile brunt to meet." 
 
 " Now, by the fiends, a coward scheme ! I'll none 
 Part or emprise with any dastard son 
 Of Rome. My wrongs shall ne'er confounded be 
 With spite of slaves whose wrath is treachery. 
 No night-bird hiding from the blaze of noon, 
 But a grim eagle that confronts the sun, 
 My vengeance ; banding not with miscreant things, 
 But shaking its lone thunders from its wings,
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 211 
 
 Nor earthward stooping from its cloud-built throne, 
 Save in his strength to strike the mighty down." 
 
 " A hero spirit ! " tauntingly replied 
 The Tempter. " Flight sublime of virtuous pride ! 
 Were't but consistent, youths unborn should smart 
 Till erav'd the noble lesson on each heart." 
 
 o 
 
 " Consistent ! Ay, no more will Tywold band 
 With coward heart, false faith, and woman hand." 
 
 " But traitor to his chosen federates prove ? " 
 
 " Peace, wretch ! thy venom cannot Tywold move ; 
 Wouldst thou his course divine, shape first thine 
 
 own, 
 Then say thus, never crawl'd Hermanric's son." 
 
 " The Regent's fleet is destin'd." 
 
 " This right hand 
 Shall destiny outweigh." 
 
 " Oh, thou shalt stand 
 
 14—2
 
 212 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 The hero of the fight. The Regent's grace 
 
 Shall condescend on Tywold's brow to place, 
 
 Perchance, the second crown of oak, or yield 
 
 (For all love change) the first-fruits of the field. 
 
 His princely tongue shall praise thee. When is known 
 
 His pleasure, who shall venture to postpone 
 
 Tywold to Chiron's or young Theseus' name ? " 
 
 " Serpent, thou sting'st adroitly. Whence the claim 
 Of this young upstart fame and fate to dole 
 To valiant spirits ? Can his arm control 
 Like Tywold's the wild battle ? Hath it been 
 Like his in fifty stricken fields, still seen 
 Where fiercest tumult rag'd ? " 
 
 " Not so, yet one 
 Bright field of his thy fifty hath outshone : 
 So prate the wise. I heard a lover plead 
 At maiden's feet his cause : the myrtle shade 
 Conceal'd me well. ' If,' said she, ' I accord 
 This amaranth sprig, full keen must be thy sword, 
 Full bright his fame who wields it.' i Maid,' replied 
 The youth, ' this pledge shall flourish in its pride
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 213 
 
 High o'er my crest, more terrible by far 
 Than Tywold's plume, red comet of the war.' " 
 
 " Well! and the maiden was content?" 
 
 " The maid 
 Shook, like some wind-wav'd flower, her graceful head. 
 ' Is such thy highest and thy proudest aim, 
 To emulate the scarce remember'd fame 
 Of a barbarian, who at best was known 
 For savage valour and rude might alone ? 
 Canst thou no more ? ' " 
 
 " All this the maiden said ? 
 How answer'd he?" 
 
 " With Chiron's name. The maid 
 Still bent her brow. Young Theseus' deeds. She 
 
 smil'd, 
 But still withheld the boon." — 
 
 Burst forth the wild, 
 Long stifled wrath of Ty wold. " Theseus' might 
 Preferr'd o'er his, who train'd his arm to fight ? 
 Taught his young hand the warrior blade to wield, 
 His eye to search the teeming battle-field?
 
 214 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIIT. 
 
 A noble, brave, and graceful youth. But he 
 Preferr'dtoTvwold?" 
 
 " Stay, thou yet shalt see 
 Tywold avenged. The maid withheld the prize. 
 The youth, despairing, vow'd the task'd emprise 
 Past human prowess. To the faint belong 
 No virgin wreaths, no meed of poet's song. 
 Hast never heard how fled from mortal might 
 Erectheus' self, the terrible in fight ? " 
 
 " Erectheus never fled," stern Tywold cried, 
 With shout had drown'd the thunder in its pride. 
 " He never fled. On that accursed strand 
 Long strove we, crest to crest and hand to hand, 
 Till sudden sunder'd by the rush of fight. 
 But thro' the press I chas'd his plume of night, 
 Death clos'd upon his wake like waves that sweep, 
 Tracking some monster of the vasty deep. 
 Just then arose the cheery battle cry 
 Of ' Indira.' Dion swept like tempest by. 
 He play'd the captain's part, I'll n'er deny.
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 215 
 
 His eye each pass explor'd, his charge laid low 
 
 The staunchest squadrons of the stubborn foe : 
 
 But ne'er attain'd Erectheus. Him the throng 
 
 Of flight dragg'd (slaughtering friend and foe) along: 
 
 Till, as he strove to rally up the war, 
 
 A chain of elephants that fled the roar 
 
 Of the Greek-fire the struggling hero bore 
 
 Mid the deep river, curaber'd with the slain, 
 
 And spoils and trophies of the battle plain. 
 
 Erectheus never fled. A hero true, 
 
 Worthy his fame. Thy silly tale pursue." 
 
 " 'Tis clos'd. The youth who fear'd not Tywold's fame, 
 Nor pal'd at Chiron's or young Theseus' name, 
 Dismay'd, the novel pledge refus'd. ' Fair maid, 
 Keep thou thy proffer'd meed of fame,' he said, 
 ' Reserv'd for him whose tongue hath learn'd to shine 
 In boastful triumph truth denies to mine.' 
 So spake the lover. Youth, the helm put round ; 
 For Trebizond our changeful bark is bound, — 
 So wills the valiant Tywold."
 
 216 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO Till. 
 
 Answer'd stern 
 That warrior: " Stripling, venture not to turn 
 Our course, an' thou'rt not weary of thine own ! 
 Tywolcl is then the scorn of maidens grown, 
 The mark our beardless youth o'ershoot with ease ? 
 Curse on the lifeless sea, the laggart breeze ! 
 Can yon black thunder-cloud yield nought but gloom ? 
 Or lives the once proud Tywold to become 
 Of his own elements, the free, the strong, 
 Scorn'd, as the byword of each feeble tongue ?" 
 
 A blast came roaring from the cavernous wild, 
 Where mount o'er mountain to mid-heaven is pil'd 
 It came, upcurling every billow hoar, 
 Then, rapt on high, the crumbled Ocean bore ; 
 It smote and hurl'd the fragile bark afar, 
 Full on her quivering beam, as 'twere in war 
 With dread Leviathan. Pal'd Proceus' cheek ; 
 Curses and prayers, mixt blasphemy, did reek 
 From the foul lips of Brastus : and, upborne, 
 Like shriek of some wild demon of the storm,
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 217 
 
 The old man's laugh above the turmoil dark 
 
 Was heard, while each clung desperate to the bark, — 
 
 All, save stern Tjwold. From despondence sprung 
 
 That chief, exultant — joyful greeting flung 
 
 To the wild herald of the tempest grim, 
 
 Sent, as in answer of his doubts, to him. 
 
 His tall form stay'd against the creaking mast, 
 
 His red plume tossing in the furious blast, 
 
 His brow dilating, kindling his dark eye, 
 
 His arm outstretch'd to that black, thund'rous sky, 
 
 He seem'd the Genius, terrible and lone, 
 
 Of Tempest, gazing on his cloud-pack'd throne. 
 
 " Oh, ever thus, thou fetterless and wild, 
 Swift Spirit of the Waste, hast thou beguil'd 
 And scatter'd all my coward doubts afar : 
 Thou fearless element, whose conquering car 
 Grinds into dust the Ocean, and hurls down 
 The rocks Eternity had grav'd his own, 
 Thou, thou art Ty wold's friend, and in the roar 
 Of thy wild storm he freely breathes once more.
 
 218 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO Till. 
 
 " Youth," he exclaim'd, to Calthas turning, " yield 
 To mine the helm thy frail arm scarce may wield : 
 Tis Tywold's hour, but thou shalt near him be, 
 To point our pathway o'er the trackless sea. 
 Shake not thy head. My will is law. Whene'er 
 Slacks the strong gale the helm shall be thy care." 
 
 The wind still rose; the rainy torrent pour'd; 
 In deep, hoarse peals the stunning thunder roar'd ; 
 Thick gloom enhanc'd the firebolt's dazzling might, 
 And fast that gloom was black'ning into night. 
 Toss'd the frail bark amid that turmoil rude, 
 As lives some name of note on memory's flood. 
 FurPd all her sail, save one slight strip of snow, 
 That, like a sea-gull, flutters o'er her prow. 
 Great was their peril, as with headlong bound 
 Their fairy skiff the trough of ocean found ; 
 Or, toilsome, climb'd th' impending watery steep, 
 To stream from thence her beacon o'er the deep. 
 Each heart bestow'd in secret many a curse 
 On Tywold's haughty soul and will perverse :
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGES. 219 
 
 Each, save the youthful patriot's. Fondly he 
 Look'd on the wrathful sky and troublous sea, 
 In hope that Heaven might their deliv'rance store, 
 Permitted to his own right hand no more. 
 
 And now Night's sceptre, stretch'd o'er sea and sky, 
 
 Lent to the tumult stern her majesty. 
 
 " Youth," Tywold said, " our bark thou seem'st to 
 
 guide 
 By doubt undazzlecl o'er the murky tide ; 
 Yet long hath land defied mine aching sight, 
 Nor hangs one star her beacon on the Night. 
 What then the index of thy course ? " 
 
 " Yon jet 
 Of flame on high Elborus' summit set, 
 And that lone star o'er far Sinope's cape ; 
 'Twixt these the bark her venturous path must shape." 
 
 All gaz'd in mutter'd wonder : then, in deep 
 And deathlike silence. Thro' each heart 'gan creep 
 The vital tide ; chill fear the brain oppress'd, — 
 The very laughter of the old man ceas'd.
 
 220 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO Till. 
 
 Their eyes first sought the Star's, the Beacon's light, 
 
 Then, on the pilot's features grew their sight. 
 
 No jet of flame, no star o'erhangs the coast, 
 
 The snowy sail itself in gloom is lost. 
 
 Yet each, distinct, the pilot's form discerns, 
 
 His features' mould, the very flush that burns 
 
 His else pale cheek, illum'd with light that glows 
 
 As thro' his veins the lifetide ebbs and flows. 
 
 Paus'd each scar'd heart. That beacon first flam'd 
 
 high 
 When, rising from the dim obscurity 
 Of unrecorded Time, Prometheus' star 
 Climb'd the blue vault and chas'd Night's gloom afar. 
 
 And hence, Prometheus' banner pennon nam'd ; 
 And ancient prophecy its might proclaim'd 
 O'er every foe. E'en Tywold's dauntless breast 
 That portent mov'd. The youth he thus addrest : 
 " Too young art thou for base deception's art, 
 And thy clear eye betrays no guileful heart. 
 Hold by this beacon, since thine eye can read 
 Its ray, and Fate no better helps our need.
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 221 
 
 The rather trust it, since thou says*" it glows 
 High o'er the Mount, whence my wild tempest 
 blows." 
 
 Dread is the sov'reign majesty of Night, 
 When with the elements she links her might, 
 And her black sceptre scares the seraph sleep 
 From the lone wanderer of the vasty deep. 
 But dreadful more to traitor hearts, who there 
 Meet Terror banded with the fiend Despair. 
 The monsters of the deep, disturb'd from rest, 
 Heav'd their dire forms above the billow's crest. 
 Here measureless Leviathan — around 
 Their bark his arms a wildering forest wound. 
 Here Hydras hiss'd with fork'd and fiery tongue, 
 And ghastly Mermen from their elf-locks wrung 
 The briny wave, and madd'ning descants sung 
 That, mingling with the storm, to frenzy stung 
 Each fear ; and like that fiend which haunts the crest 
 Of precipice, the fatal plunge suggest. (15) 
 And here, like coral reef to Heaven upgrown, 
 The monstrous Kraken lifts his star-gemm'd crown :
 
 222 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 His spectral eyes two moony circles form, 
 Red as her light when wading thro' the storm. 
 His jaws a furnace, barr'd with fangs that grow 
 Tall as the mast o'er some high galley's prow — 
 His bulk a mass, immeasur'd of Night's gloom, 
 Formless as Terror, rayless as the Tomb. 
 Here things half fish, half ape, around them mow, 
 And mopping beck them to their caves below. 
 And sea-dogs howl, and, if the raving blast 
 An instant pause, they hear, with hearts aghast, 
 A deep conch sound, the dirge of spirits driven 
 From Earth by Ocean, and by crime from Heaven. 
 
 But, at the morning watch, the tempest's might 
 Seem'd soft'ning fast in that all-gentle light. 
 The gusts less mad o'er furrow'd Ocean sweep, 
 Each white crest ruffling of the billowy deep. 
 Each turn'd his own or neighbour's fears to jest, 
 As rose Sinope o'er the watery West, 
 A stain of liquid purple, whose soft hue 
 Match'd nor the azure sky nor ocean's blue,
 
 CANTO Till.] THE AVENGER. 223 
 
 Seen as the labouring bark from trough profound 
 Of Ocean crests the billow at a bound. 
 Each deem'd already won that wish'd-for soil, 
 Already reap'd his treachery's promis'd spoil. 
 
 " Fair youth," said Tywold, " wondrous is the course 
 Thy skill hath shap'd : but past the tempest force, 
 And thy young eye must weary of the deep : 
 Recline thy limbs, and snatch the needful sleep." 
 
 " Full soon for me the pillow shall be prest, 
 And long my sleep, and deep shall be my rest. 
 But, never satiate of the view, mine eye 
 Devours yon purple mounts, that chequer'd sky, 
 Those free glad billows as they heave and fall — 
 How beautiful ! alas, how fleeting all ! " 
 
 " How beautiful ! Nay, stripling, thou art one 
 Of wayward fancy. Oft I've gaz'd upon 
 Those toys of sea and sky as kindred things, 
 Unfetter'd as my own rude spirit's wings.
 
 224 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 But beauty ! Now my stormy soul requires 
 
 In that idea repose to its stern fires. 
 
 Strange that a form so soft should shrine a mind 
 
 Which beauty owns, where Tywold greets his kind. 
 
 But rest thee, child. My own dim, aching sight 
 
 Assures me thine must weary of the night." 
 
 " This is no fitting hour. My lids must close 
 But in the long, deep trancement of repose. 
 Yield to my hand the helm, and take thy rest, 
 If thou canst slumber with unlighten'd breast." 
 
 " Ne'er doubt it, child. But with a soul like thine 
 Methinks or crime or rest had ne'er been mine. 
 Take heed, poor youth. On treachery's deadly sea 
 Nor beauty beams nor peace is stor'd for thee. 
 I know not why ; thy voice my heart appeals 
 As 'twere with memory's tone. Thine eye reveals 
 Scenes of past years, long buried out of sight, 
 Since Death untimely shed his hopeless blight. 
 But thou hast earlier enter'd paths of crime, 
 And deeper woe and ruin must be thine."
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 225 
 
 " Deliberate is the choice, repeated not. 
 But thine — I mourn o'er thy perverted lot : 
 Form'd for high aims, to dare, to do, to be, — 
 Had I one tear, it were devote to thee." 
 
 " To me ! Nay, heed me not. My destin'd part 
 I fill, Heaven's legend on the lion's heart. 
 Thou wilt not rest ? Then be the helm thy care. 
 Kind youth, those swift and sudden gusts beware 
 From yon high mountain. Loth were I that ill 
 Fell the sole heart can throb for Tywold still." 
 
 Wrapt in his cloak, the warrior cast him down 
 At Calthas' feet, and with a speed unknown 
 To pamper'd eyes, is lock'd in slumb'rous rest, 
 Known by the long, deep heavings of the breast : 
 The pilot's eye in painful reverie 
 Dwelt on his form. " Alas ! and must it be, 
 That generous soul, in this its dark, warp'd plight, 
 The first dread offering to my country's right. 
 But 'tis a fate I share. Nor must regret 
 Teach me stern virtue's dictates to forget." 
 
 15
 
 226 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 From time to time, as o'er the swelling sea 
 The fair Fawn bounded tamelessly and free, 
 The rushing gusts from mountain tunnels still 
 Tax'd the young pilot's prompt and watchful skill. 
 The crew half slumbering o'er the planks repos'd, 
 Save one : that old man's eyelids never clos'd : 
 And ever and anon those eyes of stone 
 Young Calthas met, fixt, fasten'd on his own. 
 At length his loud, discordant laughter broke 
 The silence. Starting, all save Tywold woke. 
 " There, there it blazes, high, and higher still, 
 The blood -red beacon on the Giant's Hill." * 
 
 All gaz'd in awe, where tower'd the giant height 
 Of dread Elborus in his cloud-rob'd might : 
 Despite the risen sun, the distance vast, 
 Distinct that fiery jet to Heaven was cast ; 
 Morn in its ray grew lurid, as when dies 
 The star of Day mid thunder-burden'd skies. 
 
 * Mount Elborus is so called.
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 227 
 
 The pilot turn'd. He saw with foam o'ercast 
 The Deep uprooted by the trampling blast. 
 Of his lov'd mountains, one last hurried look, 
 Of the blue Deep, the cheerful Daystar took, 
 Stirr'd Tywold with his foot ; then sudden cast 
 The veering shallop broadside to the blast. 
 Then came at once the shock, the frantic cry 
 Despair reserves for Man's last agony ; 
 Outvoic'd by peals of frantic laughter thrown 
 From wave to Heaven, from Heaven abhorring down 
 And ere the mingled yells have ceas'd to scare 
 Each pitying spirit of the Flood and Air, 
 The boiling surge amid its yeast upheaves, 
 As Autumn blast the swirling forest leaves, 
 Wrecks of the shatter'd mast and plank uptorn, 
 And direr freight, the drowning swimmer's form. 
 
 And Calthas sank beneath the briny wave, 
 Alike the traitor foul and patriot's grave, 
 His soul commending to the hand that gave. 
 He rose, the wreck a moment buoy'd him o'er 
 The troubled Deep and stunning billows' roar. 
 
 1J— 2
 
 228 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 The cry of Proceus pierc'd his dizzy brain, 
 
 As sank that traitor ne'er to rise again : 
 
 The yell of Brastus, mingling with his prayer 
 
 Of blasphemy, o'ertortur'd by despair, 
 
 And direr yet the laughter shriek that raves 
 
 From Mimas, strangling in those deathful waves. 
 
 Cumber'd with crested helm and corselet's weight, 
 
 The mighty Ty wold struggled hard 'gainst Fate ; 
 
 Despairing not when Hope forgot to show 
 
 Her torch, man's beacon o'er this waste of woe. 
 
 The pilot's touch a moment's respite gave, 
 
 (When ask'd he more?) ere plunging to the wave. 
 
 That moment freed him from his warrior cloak, 
 
 And now his touch the morion's clasp hath broke ; 
 
 And his red crest, the terror of the fight, 
 
 Old Ocean hides for ever from Man's sight. 
 
 An effort more, the corselet, frequent tried 
 
 In fields of fight, sinks gleaming in the tide. 
 
 But far the shore, the drifting wreck remote, 
 
 Death calls. The whirlpool opes his famished throat,
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 229 
 
 Then wherefore near the drowner's clasp delay ? 
 Why counts his eye the foam-globes of the spray ? 
 He deems to view, mid Ocean's plumage hoar, 
 The silvery helm their youthful pilot wore. 
 Back from his arm the scattering billows fly ; 
 'Twas but the Dolphin's scale that mock'd his 
 
 eye; 
 Oh ! tarry not, strong swimmer. Mighty thou, 
 But mightier Ocean's boundless ebb and flow, 
 The tyrant winds be mightier. " Youth," he said, 
 " Thine eye for Ty wold one kind drop did shed ; 
 By the stern tempests of my wilds, I swear 
 Thy life to rescue, or thy death to share." 
 
 Scarce ceas'd he, ere the wave regurging brought 
 Almost within his arms the form he sought. 
 Swift as the serpent coils the stockdove, round 
 The sinking youth his sinewy arm is wound ; 
 Droops o'er his shoulder strong the languid head, 
 His own exulting o'er the wave is spread. 
 Ne'er in his highest triumph so elate 
 With conscious might to wrest decrees from fate,
 
 230 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 As now Eternity beneath him spread, 
 
 And Hope attenuate to a single thread, 
 
 Seem'd the wild wind its fury to control, 
 
 Aw'd by the fervour of that dauntless soul. 
 
 Lull'd is the blast, the wreck swift drifting by 
 
 Now rests and grows upon the swimmer's eye, 
 
 As buoyant merging o'er each billow there, 
 
 He shakes the spray showers from his tangled hair, 
 
 And soon above the shatter'd plank he stood, 
 
 And drew his burden, helpless, from the flood. 
 
 Dweller by turns on land or sea, his care 
 
 Soon reallum'd the life-spark smouldering there ; 
 
 The helm remov'd, had loos'd the corselet's band. 
 
 But the youth's grasp was fasten'd on his hand, 
 
 And so imploringly appeal'd the glance, 
 
 Then first awaking from its death-like trance, 
 
 That he forbore his purpose kind, and gave 
 
 His care to aid their passage through the wave. 
 
 He saw with joy that still the current bore 
 
 Their wreck slow drifting tow'rd the distant shore ; 
 
 He saw that, hush'd the gale, the sun beam'd warm 
 
 O'er his young comrade's drench'd and death-cold form ;
 
 CANTO VIII.] THE AVENGER. 231 
 
 His haughty spirit, which in woe had known 
 But the stern power transmuting wave to stone, 
 Which peril ne'er had shaken from its rest — 
 That spirit proud relenting fires confess'd : 
 The past return'd, the blighting present gleam'd ; 
 Was this the Future youthful promise dream'd? 
 " Alas ! " he sigh'd, " those aspirations high, 
 Gush'd they to waste their fickle mockery 
 O'er th' unfruitful desert ? " Gloom profound 
 Obscur'd his spirit, as he gaz'd around. 
 Could he not stir to rage his slumbering might, 
 And rend the Daystar's passage through the night ? 
 His own rude passions like the steed control, 
 And reassert the empire of the soul ? 
 
 A sigh the stillness broke. He turn'd — his eye 
 Fell on the beauteous youth reposing nigh. 
 Basking he lay in that warm sunny light, 
 To Tywold gloomier than the void of night. 
 The shatter'd wreck asylum per'lous gave, 
 Nor screen'd his person from the drenching wave,
 
 232 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO VIII. 
 
 That o'er him shower'd too oft in restless spray. 
 Extended o'er the folden sail he lay ; 
 The eye, too glorious for Earth's lustre, shone 
 In fixt and anxious sadness on his own. 
 It seem'd to read his heart. " Alas, fair child, 
 And canst thou sigh above the ruin wild 
 Of this rude spirit ? Hast thou yet for me 
 A kind thought, tottering as thy footsteps be 
 On verge of ruin more profound than mine ? 
 If Heaven, indeed, hath marr'd a pure design 
 To form so perfect join'd a treacherous heart, 
 Who shall the angels credit ? But thou art 
 Victim to some foul plot. Thou shalt not fall 
 In thy young blood, disowned, abhorr'd of all. 
 Thy form I've rescued, thy young mind I'll save 
 From worst than tomb on Earth, or watery grave. 
 " Alas !" he cried aloud, and smote his brow 
 With his clench'd hand ; " and is it even so ? 
 Shall the foul vulture's heart soft pity move ? 
 Quits he the carnage to reclaim the dove ? " 
 
 END OF CANTO VIII.
 
 Canto IX. 
 
 THE SNARE. 
 
 Night swathes the mountain, night the valley wide 
 
 Fills to o'erflowing with her boundless tide, 
 
 That, like the waters of some shoreless sea 
 
 Engulfs its billows in Infinity, 
 
 Bears sense aloft where worlds innumerous roll, 
 
 And to the realm of spirits wafts the soul. 
 
 But o'er the mountain brow Night's hush is risen, 
 
 With sounds of life that jar the vault of Heaven : 
 
 The rush, the sullen tide, deep, dense and strong, 
 
 Of battle steeds, and the mail'd martial throng 
 
 Of turban'd riders.
 
 234 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 From yon craggy height 
 The drowsy goatherd, starting, eyes the night 
 With wond'ring glance. " The stars of Heaven look down 
 Serene and calm, each from his sapphire throne ; 
 The moss-wreaths drooping from the pine-branch 
 
 high, (16) 
 Wave but as beauty's tresses to the sigh 
 Of dawning love. The Ocean lies afar, 
 Whence through earth, air rolls on this deep, con- 
 tinuous jar, 
 'Tis Ocean's might. Oft have our sires declar'd 
 How Heaven's dread standard o'er our mountains bar'd, 
 Ocean his strength upheaving rent asunder 
 His rocky bonds, and hurl'd his billowy thunder 
 High o'er Elborus' brow. My slumbering bride, 
 My helpless babe, uprouse ye. Death's black tide 
 Rolls on. Up, up, the mountain brow we'll scale, 
 And when o'er Earth the watery floods prevail, 
 Die in one long embrace." 
 
 Forth, trembling, sprung 
 His beauteous Bride. The web at random flung
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 235 
 
 Round the young babe she to her bosom press'd, 
 Scarce offers shelter to her tender breast 
 From the ic'd mountain blast. Her raven hair 
 Streams o'er her shoulder. Each white foot is bare, 
 And in the starlight gleams." 
 
 " My love, my lord, 
 With thee to live, to die. But must the sword 
 Of Death our young, our tender bud cut down ? 
 Lead, lead, I follow. Hark ! how hurry on 
 Those fatal tides, mixt with the frequent neigh 
 Of steeds, and one wild shout. Away, away." 
 
 " Alas ! no death is here, which he may flee, 
 Who to his country true, and worthy thee, 
 Would live or perish. 'Tis not Ocean's tide 
 Whose voice to Heaven is lift ; but hosts that ride 
 Tumultuous as his billows. Thou hast heard 
 Our Prince's mandate to each mountain horde : 
 Thou know'st our country's need. Sweet Life, farewell, 
 And thou blest land where yet the noble dwell, 
 Where dwelt my Sires, receive th' oblation free 
 To their dread shades, thyself and liberty."
 
 236 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 He rush'd from her embrace. Down, down the steep 
 She hears from rock to rock his frantic leap. 
 The causeway gain'd, beneath a wayside oak 
 He seats him, shrouded in his shepherd cloak, 
 To wait the coming host. A foot-fall light 
 Sounds near. " What, ho ! thou wanderer of the 
 
 night ; 
 Thy name, thy purpose ? Till thou answer, stand." 
 A clasp of softness binds his rugged hand, 
 Around his neck a fairy arm is thrown, 
 The cheek, best lov'd, burns, blushes on his own. 
 " Alas ! what madness brings thee ?" 
 
 " Madness caught, 
 Jarthon, from thee, from all. One selfish thought, 
 One timorous doubt at this, our country's need, 
 Would brand me traitress to the patriot creed 
 By our great Prince promulg'd." 
 
 " And what would'st thou 
 Mid warrior ranks ? Thy sex, thy youth, the glow 
 Of thy soft beauty ? Hast thou heart to see 
 Thine infant mangled mid the barbarous glee 
 Of the rude soldier? Canst thou brook to be
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 237 
 
 The victim of his lust ? Fly, Miriam, fly ; 
 This is no task thy lofty zeal to try." 
 
 " Not so. Each terror weigh'cl, I trust Heaven's arm 
 To shield our blest, our infant hope from harm ; 
 Or if my soul must wither in his woe, 
 In freedom's cause, will needful strength bestow. 
 Alone, thy word will doubtful credence gain ; 
 But when, wife, babe, thy sponsors they retain : 
 Then lead thou on ; and though thy fateful tread 
 Tend to the sunless mansions of the dead 
 Secure they follow. 'Gainst thine honour's wrong 
 Keen is this blade, this woman's heart is strong." 
 
 She ceas'd ; for now those thronging sounds of fear, 
 The tramp of steeds and clash of arms drew near. 
 First the Moowuzzin rode. His voice supplied 
 The need of trumpet-note, the course to guide, 
 To urge, to sway that boundless battle-tide. 
 Full on the night, from time to time arose 
 That sonorous cry, more dreadful to thy foes,
 
 238 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Islam, # than wildest burst of martial strain : 
 " Great is the one true God ! " And ere again 
 In silence fail'd the voice, 'twas peal'd on high 
 In one deep-ton'd, prolong'd, and thrilling cry 
 Of the dense host from league to league outspread, 
 Till every echo of the mountain fled 
 In that dread shout to heaven, and every star 
 Trembled that hallow'd name from lips to hear 
 Foul with the pledge of murder. 
 
 Leading on 
 His martial band, array'd in arms that shone 
 In ever}' ray the stars of heaven bestow'd 
 On the night gloom, the aged Chieftain rode ; 
 Ukhbur his name, late envoy to the throne 
 Of great Prometheus' Daughter. Never shone 
 Arabia's blazing sun with fiery dart 
 On sterner brow or bolder zealot's heart ; 
 And time, that chang'd his raven beard to snow, 
 Quench'd not the dire volcano stor'd below, 
 
 * The faith preached by Aluhumrnud.
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 239 
 
 But to youth's searching zeal the wisdom lent, 
 
 The stern resolve, th' unchangeable intent, 
 
 Th' inveterate spirit, growth of after years, 
 
 When Hope her smile forgets, and Woe her tears. 
 
 Swift at his signal, to his bridle rein 
 
 Dash'd Khoosroo, Prince of Lar's rock-strewn domain : 
 
 " Ho ! stir yon slumberers ; bind and hither bear." 
 
 " I hear, obey. But one seems frail and fair ; 
 An infant fills her arms." 
 
 " If Moslem, spare ; 
 If Infidel,* meet cradle rocks below, 
 Where yon fierce torrent hurls its crest of snow." 
 
 Aghast the mother heard. Her suppliant eye 
 
 Sought the young Chief's to whom that stern reply 
 
 Was render'd. He a human heart possess'd, 
 
 He saw her clasp to her devoted breast 
 
 Her slumbering babe. He thought of twain afar, 
 
 Babe, mother, sunder'd by the fate of war. 
 
 " Swear on thy babe's salvation thou'lt not flee." 
 
 * Kawfur, infidel.
 
 240 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 " So help him Heaven." 
 
 " Enough, his life is free ; 
 Great Ulla grant to thee, to him, to know 
 That truth divine, sole hope of man below." 
 
 In question brief stern Ukhbur's voice is heard : 
 " Thy name ? thy calling ? See each lightest word 
 Bear truth's severest test, or they shall throw 
 Thy carcase o'er yon cliff to feed the crow. 
 Thy name?" 
 
 " Is Jarthon. Where have liv'd, have died 
 My sires, dwell I upon the mountain side ; 
 My flocks, my care." 
 
 " How haps it thou art found 
 By the wayside, no fleecy charge around?" 
 
 " Chieftain, nor lordly head, nor lowly brow, 
 But must to circumstance and suffering bow. 
 A mother's hallow'd life of us demands 
 Our hearts' warm sympathy and ready hands ; 
 For this our cot we left. Thine arm'd array 
 Hath ta'en us, resting, by the foot-worn way."
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 241 
 
 " Now answer me sincere. From hence not far 
 The hostile forces camp in guise of war. 
 Lead me but thither ; and henceforth no more 
 Forsake thy home to list the torrent's roar, 
 Or brave the icy blast on moor or hill, 
 With ruddy gold thy shepherd scrip I'll fill ; 
 Or, for Islam, if thou thy creed resign, 
 Broad furrow'd fields and pastures shall be thine." 
 
 " O Night of a blest star ! Yet, Chieftain, know, 
 'Tis no unwarlike crowd, no woman foe, 
 Whose lances like a leafless forest grow 
 In the deep valley soil." 
 
 " Content thee, hind : 
 Our Prophet's banner floats upon the wind ; 
 God and the Prophet's name speed every blow, 
 And true believers but demand to know 
 Where Kawfur * armies hide. Lead boldly on ; 
 But mark me — guile's least symptom to atone, 
 I hold thy wife's, thine infant's life, thine own. 
 Nor vainly hold." 
 
 * Idulator, infidel. 
 
 16
 
 242 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 " E'en so ! The foeman's might 
 Ye seek. Be't mine to guide your steps aright. 
 Had I a life for ev'ry foe ye'll see, 
 In this great cause I'd stake it. Follow me." 
 
 " Enough, lead on. Time presses. As we go, 
 Describe the force, guise, posture of the foe." 
 
 " A mountain shepherd I. As shepherds skill 
 To speak of war I speak. With kindlier will 
 I'd tell of flocks and herds, or lead ye where 
 Sleeps the cool pasture screen'd from midday 
 
 glare, 
 Deep bosom'd in the dell, or caves disclose, 
 Where from the living rock pure crystal flows. 
 Or teach you how, upon the mountain side, 
 With stakes and thorns inlac'd a circle wide 
 Around our fold we pen. Or lead your foot 
 Where the clear lake imbathes the mountain root, 
 And mount and sky a world inverted stand, 
 And heaviest dews refresh the flower-sprent strand : 
 But warriors view our arts with scornful eyes. 
 Not far from hence a deep, wide basin lies ;
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 243 
 
 Steep mountains heavenward wall its circuit round. 
 Once o'er a vasty lake those mountains frown'd, 
 Of depth unfathom'd and unmatch'd in gloom : 
 But in some age remote their prison doom 
 The waters burst thro' channel sapp'd below, 
 Where yet the torrent raves in ceaseless flow. 
 But yester morn a straggler of my flock 
 Led me to scale the valley's heaven-pil'd rock. 
 What time, emerging from his rest, the sun 
 That mountain's eastern ridge with toil had won, 
 And flung from thence far downward, o'er the 
 
 tide 
 Of rolling mists his level glance of pride. 
 Those rolling mists the genial glance obey, 
 Majestic rise and greet the star of day ; 
 And thro' their rents upon my wondering gaze 
 Flash'd back from lance and brand innumerous 
 
 rays, 
 Lighting the vale throughout its wide extent ; 
 And from the mighty host beneath was sent, 
 Borne on the swelling air-tides, a deep hum 
 Of life, like that which, sporting in the sun, 
 
 16—2
 
 244 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 The insect myriads raise. At times combin'd, 
 And hovering slow upon the morning wind, 
 The eddying vapour blotted all from sight : 
 At times, when still'd that breeze, the hush of night 
 Slept o'er the basin vast. Then fitful rose 
 Sounds as of parted years that haunt us in repose." 
 
 " Sought ye the camp ? " 
 
 " Chieftain, I sought it not : 
 Heaven smiles benignly o'er my peaceful cot, 
 War and its camps I dread." 
 
 " There be, who say 
 This Dion marshals there his doom'd array. 
 Know'stthou of this?" 
 
 " At least his banner flies : 
 Gay shows the mountain in its rainbow dyes." 
 
 " Then, are the passes guarded ? " 
 
 " Even so : 
 Yet o'er those heights myself a path can show 
 By which, if brave your warriors, ye may win 
 The very life-key to the foe within."
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 245 
 
 " Doubt not our daring. Thou the pass should'st mean, 
 Through which the torrent mines a path unseen? " 
 
 " The same — the very rocks that bridge it o'er, 
 And stand aye list'ning to its dcaf'ning roar. 
 Oft, as a child, I've sat the livelong day, 
 Lull'd by those sounds, to watch the flaky spray 
 Now madly whirl, now shoot with arrowy flight 
 'Twixt the black rocks : while still my dazzled sight 
 Return'd to where commenc'd each bright career 
 To find fresh foam-bells hurrying in the rear, 
 And with fresh gaze pursue. But those old years 
 Come o'er my spirit with the might of tears." 
 
 Answer'd a deep, stern voice : " Right fitting mood 
 For him who trafficks in his country's blood." 
 
 The startled peasant turn'd. That voice of might, 
 Replete with mockery, shed a sudden blight 
 O'er his scar'd spirit. As some keen ice-dart, 
 Rent from yon wintry peak, had cleft his heart.
 
 246 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Beside the Arab chief, a horseman rode ; 
 Sable his arms, his cloak, the steed he strode. 
 High o'er his morion, black as midnight gloom, 
 Swept the stars' trembling lamps his sable plume, 
 As 'twere to blot from Heaven their sacred light, 
 Drinking but blackness from the gulf of night. 
 Proud arch'd the charger's crest : his fiery eye 
 Blaz'd as the Dogstar's torch in sultry sky, 
 When Famine rides the gale and flock from far 
 The vulture legions to the scent of war. 
 Thro' his wide nostril on the bleak night-blast 
 A torrent mixt of fire and vapour pass'd ; 
 And his wild neigh o'eraw'd with music's might 
 The thousand thousands thronging to the fight, 
 As rose its regal clarion on the night. 
 And now they thread a valley deep and wide, 
 Where the strong billows of the mountain tide, 
 That long had sent their murmur from below, 
 Side with their steeds in broader channel flow. 
 Not farther distant than the eye might ken 
 Rose the bleak bulwarks of that fateful den,
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 247 
 
 Which, as they near'd, in straiter bounds comprest, 
 High flung the stream its billows of unrest. 
 Then Ukhbur spoke : 
 
 " Great Prince ! A twofold aim 
 Be ours. Yon mountain's ridgy crest to gain, 
 And thro' the pass our thronging squadrons guide. 
 Choose thine own part." 
 
 Erectheus brief replied: 
 " Mine be Death's ampler banquet." 
 
 " Haste thee, then, 
 Young Khoosroo, lead thine own brave mountain men 
 Up the steep path. Thence sound our battle-cry — 
 God and the Prophet's sword, vengeance and victory." 
 
 At once full thrice a thousand warriors sprang 
 From their fleet steeds, their arms and armour rang : 
 Jarthon, their guide. Against the rocky height 
 Their agile limbs they bend, soon lost to sight 
 Mid bush and crag, or seen in dwindled wise 
 As specks t' enhance the mountain's giant size.
 
 248 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Meanwhile the Arab host in phalanx deep 
 Paus'd in the shadow of that mountain keep. 
 Slow wan'd the Night ; the Scorpion's fiery train 
 From mount to mountain bulwark stretch'd immane, 
 Hung silent, filling all the narrow'd sky 
 With baleful glory. Dire Antares' eye 
 Sheds beauteous death; — and side with him the Star,* 
 Once monarch of high Powers, but since the war 
 Of heavenly Potentates, despoil'd and given 
 But the malign decretals of hirrh Heaven. 
 Slow wan'd the night. Before, above them lower'd 
 The massive mountain whose hio-h ridges tower'd 
 Sublime ; but midway through that bulwark's side 
 Down to the base was rent a fissure wide, 
 Through which the raving torrent thunder'd forth, 
 The huge rocks grinding in its stormy wroth. 
 Those massive rocks, the corner-stones, whereon 
 Nature builds high to Heav'n her mountain throne, 
 Span with groin'd vault the ever-boiling spray, 
 And prison Night amid the blaze of Day. 
 
 * Saturn, the most baleful of the planets.
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNAKE. 249 
 
 Into this frightful den, where torrents roar, 
 And dismal sounds from pitchy blackness pour, 
 Erectheus spurr'd his steed. O'er slippery rock, 
 Through flood and foam, amid the giddy shock 
 Of wave and barrier, his undaunted horse 
 Held through the hellish pass his onward course, 
 And his stern rider through the tumult bore, 
 Unscath'd and reckless ; but alone no more. 
 What horseman follows in his gloomy track, 
 Array'd like him, in panoply of black, 
 Arms, cloak, and plume? The stunning din around, 
 And plunging steed, and pitchy night profound, 
 Absorb'd Erectheus ; till his snorting horse 
 Paus'd at a rocky barrier in mid-course. 
 And a faint breathing made the presence known 
 Of one that dar'd, unsanction'd and alone, 
 His gloomy footsteps dog. 
 
 He turn'd and drew 
 His deathful scimitar. Its blood-red hue 
 Intensely glow'd, illuming that dark cave 
 As with a comet's blaze : " What wretch would brave 
 Erectheus' wrath ? Speak, or in silence die."
 
 250 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 High flam'd the sword, but fell not, for reply 
 Most eloquent was render'd. From his brow 
 That seeming horseman pluck'd the morion low, 
 And sate defenceless 'neath th' impending sword. 
 Down o'er the corselet in rich showers were pour'd 
 The golden ringlets : from the deep, full eye, 
 Where azure strove with Night's intensest dye, 
 Flash'd back for every ray that war-blade shed 
 A flood of living light that changeful play'd 
 With all the rainbow's hues. Unhelmed sate 
 The beauteous stranger 'neath th' impending fate : 
 Unhelm'd — yet did not Mulcifer of yore 
 In iEtna's fire and Stygian billow frore 
 Forge the bright helm, the triple crest endow, 
 Which nodded dreadful o'er Achilles' brow, 
 Of temper so ethereal as the gold 
 
 Whose molten waves from that bright brow were 
 roll'd. 
 
 " Whence, beauteous Vision ? " 
 
 " From the fields of air ; 
 From the full orbed Sun : from caverns where
 
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 25 
 
 Burns his mysterious essence, which his eve 
 Shall ne'er explore ; from meteor orbs that fly 
 Paling the mortal world ; from stars that roll 
 Burning their circles round the icy pole ; 
 From iEtna's cavern'd tunnel ; from the hills 
 Of Bankoo, rife of thousand fiery rills ; 
 From cavern'd Caucasus' dread halls — I come." 
 
 " And what thy purpose ? Doth the certain doom 
 Of thousand thousands not suffice thy lord ? 
 Or bear'st thou spell to edge the flaming sword 
 To its red harvest ? " 
 
 " Mortal, that dire blade 
 Is not of him I serve. Fain would I aid, 
 Warn, counsel of thy fate, impending near ; 
 But waste no accent on reluctant ear. 
 In scornful mood once bad'st thou me begone. 
 Touch 'd by thine after penitence, I come 
 Once more. Form but that prior wish, and ere 
 Thy lips can mould it in the plastic air, 
 Ten thousand leagues dispart us."
 
 252 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 " Be thy will 
 
 Aught else ; but linger thou around me still, — 
 
 Sole object which the fast-consuming pest 
 
 Of vengeance leaves uncanker'd in my breast." 
 
 Brief the allotted moments. In thy hand, 
 Mortal, thou bear'st a fatal gift, the brand 
 Of vengeance double-edg'd, which none may bear 
 Unscath'd, save those who spirit-nature share." 
 
 Welcome the scath, so but the ruin fall 
 Deep, wide, uncheck'd, and pitiless on all. 
 What recks the panther, struggling in the Deep 
 With dread Leviathan, of tides that sweep 
 In giddy whirl around ? Doth he not know 
 His death, destruction to his scaly foe ? 
 Deep in the monster's fiery eyeballs sink 
 His dreadful talons : fetter'd by a link 
 Firmer than death, he drags him down below, 
 And counts death sweet, in torture of his foe."
 
 CANTO IX.J THE SNARE. 253 
 
 " Sweet to Man's stormy nature is the draught 
 Of vengeance — sweet the ruddy mixture quaff'd 
 By Beings higher of degree ; but light 
 Is finite vengeance to th' eternal blight 
 Which swift succeeds : — an instant's giddy glow 
 Of joy inebriate, bought with endless woe. 
 Leave to brute instinct such. A loftier view 
 Be thine. Thy vengeance barter for a new 
 And glorious destiny. Come, share my throne, 
 The rule of spirits, fiery as thine own : 
 Exempt from death, disease, and gifted high 
 With powers to which man's might is vanity. 
 Ten thousand such — the least more mighty far 
 Than the vext elements, whose thund'rous war 
 Shakes the deep-rooted earth. These watch and 
 
 wait 
 My beck and form, the legion of my state. 
 My nod commands them to the farthest star 
 Of the dim Galaxy, or where his car 
 The Northern War-king rolls. Dismist of me, 
 They search the secrets of the plombless sea,
 
 254 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Which mortals Heaven design, or plunge below 
 Earth's adamantine crust, where rooted grow 
 Elborus' snow-capped towers." 
 
 " Yet, beauteous thin g, 
 With powers so vast above, below to wing 
 So strong a flight, to search, command, explore, 
 How lack'st thou passport to this bosom's core, 
 As thy late claim to homage doth imply ? 
 And say how hides thy potence from man's eye, 
 Which grasps whate'er event is casual huiTd 
 From Time's dim ocean to the natural world ? 
 If o'er man's spirit thou possess no sway, 
 If the blind elements no law obey 
 Of thine ; if Satan's self be not thy lord, 
 In what consists thine empire ? What the chord 
 Of sympathy 'twixt human hearts and thee ? " 
 
 " Mortal," replied the voice, " the world ye see 
 Is but a moment's pageant. Your vain sight 
 Ye turn bedazzled from the Sun's dim light —
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 255 
 
 That sun, a spark mid myriad sparks to me. 
 
 The waves immeasur'd of Eternity 
 
 Cast a few spray showers on your insect coast, 
 
 To form Time's pool, that ocean of your boast — 
 
 A pool, the first regurging wave may sweep 
 
 Back to the plombless basin of the deep. 
 
 The eternal billows, on th' eternal shore 
 
 Aye hurling, lend faint thrillings of their roar, 
 
 Dimpling your motely shallow in their might, 
 
 Where spreads each ring a cycle in thy sight. 
 
 But the blue firmament hath charge on high 
 
 To shield the Finite from Infinity ; 
 
 From gales that o'er Heaven's gulf eternal 
 
 sweep, 
 And each dire scale-arm'd monster of the deep. 
 Peopling that shallow with his atom brood, 
 The petty tyrant of a spray-shower's flood, 
 Reigns man, minutest embryo of a race 
 Amongst the mightiest in the realms of space. 
 Lord of a mystic empire, barr'd with care 
 From subtlest spirits of the sky and air,
 
 256 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Who for admission vainly ply. But one 
 
 Can solve that mystery, that dominion lone, 
 
 Man's heart, peruse, explore." 
 
 " The gloomy kino; 
 Of Tartarus ? " 
 
 " Thou err'st ; that sullen wing, 
 
 Erst with Archangels mating in compare, 
 
 Oft soars in view, but may not enter there. 
 
 Dost then inquire how hides our might from thee ? 
 
 That insect eye an atom's frame may see, 
 
 But with an atom is o'erwhelm'd and blind 
 
 To each vast outline of the master mind." 
 
 " If such thy poAver, thou doubtless dost fulfil 
 Some fitting part. Is that thou term'st thy will 
 Free and unfetter'd ? or hast thou a lord ? " 
 
 " All creatures have." 
 
 " Save Satan." 
 
 " Him the sword 
 Compels, reluctant ; most a slave, when he 
 Strives 'gainst his yoke and struggles to be free."
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 257 
 
 " Then are all slaves." 
 
 " All serve. The mightiest those 
 Whose motive love ; the meanest, who oppose 
 Almighty will." 
 
 " Ibleess * high honour bore 
 Among the highest." 
 
 " But he bears no more. 
 Foremost in zeal, until ambition crept 
 A serpent to his heart, and seraphs wept 
 O'er the terrific ruin. Thenceforth hate, 
 Implacable, immortal, blasts his fate, 
 Rebellion hopeless, pride still kindling war, 
 And Terror thundering in her iron car 
 O'er the yet haughty spirit." 
 
 "Be mine still 
 That haughty heart, that majesty of will ; 
 Th' indomitable spirit, sceptre lone, 
 Realm, terror to all else, and dire dissocial throne, 
 All, all but fear — Heaven's mightiest ne'er should dart 
 One bolt of terror to Erectheus' heart." 
 
 * Satan.
 
 258 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Pale grew the form before him. The arch'd brow 
 
 Lost all its majesty ; and drooping low, 
 
 As stricken to the death her heart had been, 
 
 Sank the full flashing eye beneath its screen 
 
 Of night-fring'd snow. Much marvell'd he that one 
 
 Of such high presence and commanding tone 
 
 Should thus succumb. More marvell'd what might move 
 
 A nature thron'd man's sympathies above. 
 
 Drooping she sate, her war-steed drooping stood : 
 
 Beneath tumultuous rav'd the murky flood ; 
 
 And Night encas'd her, as some priceless gem, 
 
 In triple jet of Death's black diadem. 
 
 Thus motionless she sate with drooping brow ; 
 
 The heavy lid gleam'd ghastly as the snow 
 
 Which wintry Death sheds o'er Earth's tenderest flower. 
 
 Wonder to fear gave way ; Love's mighty power 
 
 For one soft moment sapp'd the granite stone 
 
 His heart that cas'd, and in the melting tone 
 
 Of love he call'd her. Strange to his own ear 
 
 His accents sounded ; yet seem'd they to cheer 
 
 The stricken heart before him. Leaning low 
 
 On her small hand the pale, transparent brow,
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 259 
 
 Whilst with her charger's raven mane were roll'd 
 The bright rich tresses of immortal gold, 
 She with one effort shook her spirit free, 
 Uprais'd the eye and spake ; but chang'd the key, 
 And syllabled with effort each low word, 
 As infant voices by the dreamer heard 
 At the dead hour of night. 
 
 " If yet remain, 
 Mortal, one bond thou dost not all disdain ; 
 If yet my presence thou wouldst not affray ; 
 If to have left my own high realm, to stray 
 Around thy path, forsaken most and lone, 
 Give claim to recompence ; forswear this tone, 
 So terror -fraught to mind of higher soar, 
 Which of Heaven's might may some dim gleams explore." 
 
 • 
 
 " And was it terror ? Can a thins like thee, 
 Great mid eternal Essences and free 
 From mortal taint, thus shudder but to hear 
 Heaven's might defied?" 
 
 " Else would such greatness bear 
 
 17—2
 
 260 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Strong challenge. Mightiest lights intensest burn, 
 And most profound their awe who most discern." 
 
 " What then thy grade ?" 
 
 " Exalt beyond compare 
 O'er embryo Man. Less than the least who dare 
 Enter the Courts of Heaven." 
 
 "Thine Author?" 
 
 " One 
 Is author of all being." 
 
 And thy throne?" 
 
 
 " In space, among the countless worlds that roll 
 Spangling the firmament from pole to pole." 
 
 " Be there material Worlds beside?" 
 
 ? There be, 
 Countless as foam-globes of thine insect sea." 
 
 "Peopled? Of whom?" 
 
 " Some peopled, others still 
 In embryo chaos. Mortal beings fill
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 261 
 
 The first, of various order, power, degree, 
 None all-conforming with humanity." 
 
 " And what thy work ? " 
 
 " A mystery." 
 
 "What thy name?" 
 
 " A mystery." 
 
 " And thine origin ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Canst thou to mortal eye the power convey 
 To view thy state, and those who thee obey?" 
 
 " At least, I may the utmost compass fill 
 Of thy mind's grasp. Mortal, if such thy will, 
 Give token." 
 
 Scarce th' assent was given, 
 When the black arching rocks shot up, till Heaven 
 Seem'd spann'd and circumscrib'd within their bound, 
 And the pale stars a middle region found, 
 Where the blue ether hung, a crystal sea, 
 Far, far beneath th' o'er-arching canopy
 
 262 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Of the black cavern'd vault. Waist-girdled stood 
 
 By the high Heaven's ethereal azure flood,* 
 
 Forms semblant of humanity, but wrought 
 
 On scale so far transcending human thought, 
 
 That fancy, whelm'd and daunted by th' excess 
 
 Of her own vanity and nothingness, 
 
 Shrunk back abash'd. The least of that dire band 
 
 So vast, it seem'd the hollow of his hand 
 
 Might serve for basin to the rolling main ; 
 
 Seem'd it, the sole of his dire foot might drain 
 
 The Ocean's blue abyss. Around their Queen, 
 
 1 
 All bow'd. On her transcendent brow were seen, 
 
 Not jewell'd gauds, but gems that costlier shine, — 
 
 The regal signet grav'd of hand divine. 
 
 On her, bewilder'd, turn'd Erectheus' eye. 
 
 Before him dwelt, in all its majesty, 
 
 That form of beauty ; but it seem'd no more 
 
 As that which relative dimensions bore, 
 
 As aught of substance to be grasp'd, defin'd, 
 
 Compar'd or weigh'd ; an image of the mind, 
 
 * The atmosphere, which we call heaven, is about forty-five miles in 
 depth, or rather height above us.
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 263 
 
 Vast or minute as that the mental ray 
 Illum'd the while. 
 
 Thence chanc'd his eye to stray 
 Tow'rd a pellucid cloud that, soaring long, 
 Scarce reach'd the feet of that majestic throng. 
 From iEtna's crest, or Kawf's drear solitude, 
 Oft had Erectheus in such mirror view'd 
 His image swell'd to Titan bulk — and now 
 But a dim speck discerns. Above his brow 
 His hand he spread, to shade from his strain'd eye 
 Th' excess of grandeur ; and may thus descry 
 In that small speck his own most minish'd form 
 Portray'd exact, but by strong contrast shorn 
 To atom insignificance. 
 
 He sate, 
 That haughty soul, awhile annihilate ; 
 The wroth, the terrors of the insect thing 
 Before him glass'd ! O Ridicule ! thy sting 
 To haughty minds more dreadful than the dart 
 Dipp'd in Lernaean gall to plant the heart 
 With the dire serpent harvest. Dead he sate, 
 Sunk his high front, his courage desolate :
 
 264 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 That last lone virtue, prostrate and debas'd, 
 Shatter'd the idol, the sad shrine defac'd. 
 But that one left not, whom all else had fled, 
 But that Love's flame above that Altar dead 
 Still flutter'd fondly and would not depart, 
 Man's last, dire foe had triumph'd o'er his heart. 
 But Love, Heaven's finish'd boon — Love, in array 
 Of female loveliness, was nigh to stay 
 The utter wreck. In accent soft and low 
 His name was murmur'd ; and a sudden glow 
 Relum'd th' expiring torch, and, blazing high, 
 Thrill'd through his heart and lighten'd from his 
 
 eye. 
 In the vain insect form before him stood 
 His mortal coil, his debt to flesh and blood. 
 In the bright being who invok'd him shone 
 His spirit's majesty — her throne, his tin-one ; 
 Her vassals his ; their wondrous power his own. 
 High o'er the pomp of grandeur round him sprung 
 His soarmg spirit, and imperious flung 
 Its haughty glances down : and boundless grown 
 His thirst of power, already deem'd that throne,
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 265 
 
 So easeful won, too poor a prize to fill 
 The boundless measure of his lordly will. 
 
 Again the Vision spake. " As mortal sight 
 
 Hath grasp, I've shown thee of th' excelling might 
 
 Of these my vassals ; — not, indeed, confin'd 
 
 By limits : free, impassive as the mind. 
 
 But that with bulk thou still confoundest might ; 
 
 And mightier far than thou canst judge from 
 
 sight 
 Those vassals be. Mortal, no words need tell 
 What deeds have utter'd, that I love thee well ; 
 Not with the fading, transitory glow 
 Of mortal heart, but the full, fervid flow 
 Of my own glorious element. My state 
 Is less than Heaven design'd thee, ere thy fate 
 Thy will perverted, and destruction spread 
 A hell before, around thee. Then I sped 
 Arm'd with a boon, erst granted me, to bear 
 A choice, till now ne'er breath 'd on mortal ear. 
 But Time decays. Relentless Fate on high 
 Whirls the red thong, and round her chariot fly
 
 266 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 The yelling Furies. Each her prey demands, 
 
 Drops her black gall, and wrings her wither'd 
 
 hands. 
 Now, once for ever, be thy choice made known, 
 Or finite vengeance or a fadeless throne." 
 
 " Spirit, thou know'st me not. Erectheus' will 
 Hope never swerv'd, nor shook the dread of ill. 
 Once form'd, Caucasian rocks not firmer stand 
 Against the trembling touch of infant hand. 
 Read in this blade th' irrevocable pledge 
 To him who fram'd its all-destroying edge — 
 Read in its Stygian temper that which arms 
 My purpose 'gainst e'en might of Heavenly charms. 
 Erectheus' pledge for good, for ill, once given, 
 Stands firm, despite the highest bribe of Heaven, 
 The blackest curse of Hell. Nor think, fair thing, 
 Thy sphere, how high soe'er, could bound the wing 
 Of my aspiring, while a higher stood ; 
 My course on high a fiery lava-flood, 
 Involving all in ruin ; chiefly thee, 
 The sole, blest link existence holds for me."
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNAKE. 267 
 
 " Love spurns conditions. Cast but from thy hand 
 Th' insidious pledge, and at thy side I'll stand 
 In all thy daring ; though thou hurl the brand 
 Of thy defiance at a mightier far, 
 And the blue Empyrean feel the jar 
 Of the dire strife, so but with finite foe." 
 
 Grim smil'd Erectheus. " Little dost thou know 
 
 Ambition's lore. My foot upon the neck 
 
 Of conquer'd monarch, think'st thou aught could 
 
 check 
 My upward spring ? Think'st thou th' angelic host, 
 Th' embattled Seraphim, should o'er me boast 
 
 Their ranks inviolate " 
 
 He more had said, 
 But the bright pageant clos'd in sudden shade ; 
 Vanish'd the splendence, majesty, and might, 
 And left him, shrunk, as by enchantment's blight, 
 Into himself. Seem'd as with thund'rous shock 
 Night's fetters clasp'd him, and the iron rock 
 Clos'd, crashing round. And o'er the din a cry, 
 As of some bursting heart's last agony,
 
 268 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 Transfix'd his soul. Too well he knew that tone ; 
 In the wide universe, perchance, but one 
 Had thus half bow'd him to relent. 
 
 Not long 
 Entranc'd he sate ; for now the warrior throng 
 Through the black gorge are plunging ; and the neigh 
 Smites him of frantic steeds. Away — away ! 
 Abhorr'd each murmur that reminds his ear 
 Of Man's existence, or betrays him near, 
 And to his soul the humbling memory bears 
 Of Ms sad birthright to Man's grov'ling cares. 
 
 He spurr'd his steed, but mid the shadows black 
 Of that rude cave soon lost the onward track, 
 Involv'd mid alleys, numberless and blind, 
 That through the bowels of the mountain wind. 
 Perplext he turn'd, his steps retracing slow 
 Mid broken rocks : but paus'd, as burst the glow 
 Of torch and steel abrupt upon his sight, 
 Through sudden arch. There rode, in pride of might, 
 Earth's chosen warriors. In successive throng, 
 Crowded and countless, swept the files along.
 
 CANTO IX.] THE SNARE. 269 
 
 Struggling with densest Night, the flickering glare 
 
 Of torch infrequent on the prison'd air 
 
 Scatter'd a sickly hue ; through which did glide 
 
 On leathern wine; ill-omen'd birds that hide 
 
 Their shrieking forms in Night. But from each 
 
 fold 
 Of turban white or shawl besprent with gold 
 Th' uncertain ray an instant's splendour flung, 
 Flash'd from each blade, and like a halo hung 
 Round the dim outline of the snorting horse ; 
 And the white foam uprising in their course 
 Sparkled and gleam'd as glows the troublous line 
 Where Ocean's restless, Earth's still might combine. 
 
 But his strain'd eye, distent o'er Nature's bound, 
 For those wild forms no mightier semblance found, 
 Than of the busy motes that countless stream 
 Thro' cavern'd shade, on some chance sunny gleam. 
 Was it for such his vengeance had been stor'd ? 
 On such vain atoms must his wroth be pour'd ? 
 And had he scar'd for ever from his sight 
 That lone lov'd form, to wreak his little spite
 
 270 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO IX. 
 
 On these poor worms ? E'en to the inmost soul 
 Dwindled he felt and blighted. Darkly roll 
 His troublous thoughts. His downcast glances fell 
 On the dire blade. The gloomy lord of Hell 
 Then had he curs'd, defied. A whisper small 
 Bade him the terms of that dire pledge recall, 
 By whom invok'd. To sudden madness stung, 
 He spurr'd his horse and 'mid the concourse sprung 
 Of the arm'd host. Back fled, in wild affright, 
 Steed, rider from his path : no fiend of night 
 Such panic dread had struck. The foremost ranks 
 Together crowd, until their coursers' flanks 
 In a dense mass are wedg'd, and breathless shrink 
 From his dark form as from the chasm's brink ; 
 Nor life resume, till his last plunge is o'er, 
 And the hoarse torrent lifts its voice once more. 
 
 END OF CANTO IX.
 
 271 
 
 Canto X. 
 
 THE EVE OF BATTLE. 
 
 No gleam to streak the mountain's ragged crest ; 
 
 The Sun lies buried in the distant west : 
 
 The Stars in awe usurp his mighty throne ; 
 
 Their many sceptres feebly mimic one : 
 
 With trembling grasp each wields the golden wand, 
 
 And longs to yield it to a sterner hand ; 
 
 For eyes so pure and hearts so gentle scan 
 
 With pitying dread the demon wrath of man.
 
 272 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CAKTO X. 
 
 That basin deep, whose waves have ebb'd away, 
 And given a lake's dark secrets to the day, 
 At Dion's feet expands its chasm wide, 
 And still seems pregnant with the crystal tide ; 
 For fires innumerous yield their vapour white, 
 And through the vale diffusive stream their light ; 
 Paving with pearly rays the cavern'd gloom, 
 Thus virtue sheds effulgence from the tomb. 
 Dark towers the mount above that murk abyss 
 In splinter'd crag and naked precipice. 
 
 Here sate the Prince. His couch the turf supplied, 
 Refresh'd by well-springs from the mountain side : 
 His warrior cloak, about him careless cast, 
 Excludes the mountain's ic'd and searching blast ; 
 His glittering helm with all its plumes of snow, 
 And rich cuirass the turf around him strow, 
 And at his side Prometheus' battle-brand, 
 Ne'er yet profan'd by false or feeble hand. 
 Around him strown, upon the mountain breast, 
 His warriors lay in attitude of rest ;
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 273 
 
 Or, group'd in circles, commun'd of the fight, 
 Which Morn should herald with its earliest light. 
 Farther than glance mid that deep gloom might go, 
 Is peopled dense the mountain's rugged brow ; 
 But not a watchfire gives the foe beneath 
 A warning beacon of impending death. 
 
 Dion apart from e'en his chiefs reclin'd ; 
 
 His country's fate weigh'd heavy on his mind ; 
 
 His anxious thoughts each varied feature scan, 
 
 Each frail point strengthen of his complex plan. 
 
 The morrow's dawn shall see triumphant wave 
 
 His country's banner, or shall gild her grave. 
 
 The morrow's dawn ! How brief the hours of night, 
 
 And yet he longs, like Watcher, for the light ; 
 
 Though the short interval of gloom must bear 
 
 The eventful fruits of many a labouring year. 
 
 Nor blame ye, sternest patriots, if a care, 
 Softer, but not less pure, found entrance there. 
 How, in his country's weal, could be forgot 
 His queen, his Indra, and her doubtful lot ? 
 
 18
 
 274 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 The Sun his annual course thro' Heaven had burn'd 
 
 Since the high mission from afar return'd, 
 
 Their purpose baffled. On the mountain rude 
 
 The hall, his childhood's home, deserted stood ; 
 
 The mountain blast rav'd careless thro' that hall, 
 
 The moss with gold distain'd its antique wall ; 
 
 The bower, unprun'd, a deeper shelter gave, 
 
 And droop'd luxuriant o'er a recent grave. 
 
 No certain tidings could the neighbours show 
 
 Or whose that grave, or whose the living woe, 
 
 Or whither fled the mourner. But deceas'd, 
 
 Or with her gone, the venerable priest. 
 
 And some of visions spake, and voices dread 
 
 Heard when the storm-cloud wrapp'd the mountain's 
 
 head, 
 And deem'd that Heaven's forbearance, weary grown 
 Of those whose worship differ'd from their own, 
 Had to the spirits of the Mount and Wild 
 Consign'd in either case perdition's child. 
 
 The watchful sentry's challenge, stern and low, 
 Breaks on his mood. That footstep he should know.
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 275 
 
 " What tidings, Theseus ? Thy young footfall, aye, 
 Chimes to some anthem-peal of victory, 
 So oft announc'd of thee ? " 
 
 " My Prince, thy sword 
 Hath taught our lips one solitary word, — 
 Hath taught our step one measure firm and free, 
 'Twere marvel chim'd they aught but ' Victory.' 
 My warriors hold secure the eastern height : 
 I seek thy final mandate for the night." 
 
 " To whom consign'd thy post ? " 
 
 " To Sophron." 
 
 " Good. 
 A wary veteran, tho' of bearing rude, 
 Of halting speech, but ever-ready sword. 
 Secure thy post. Recline thee on the sward, 
 My warrior, — we must watch the ebb and flow 
 Of war's strong tide ere yet our course we know." 
 
 Another challenge. " Gryges audience craves." 
 
 " Welcome, brave Noble." 
 
 " Prince, my banner waves 
 High o'er the southern camp. With morning light 
 
 18—2
 
 276 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 The path, tho' steep, will serve, a foe in sight. 
 I seek thine orders." 
 
 " Sit thee here." 
 
 Appear'd 
 A herald posting from the western ward. 
 " What from the valiant Memnon ? " 
 
 " Where the height 
 Bridges the torrent, bursting in its might 
 From the deep dell, his mountain legions keep 
 Good watch ; secure each passage o'er the steep, 
 And on each verge the rocky deluge stor'd, 
 Its deaths reserving for thy signal word. 
 Inquires the chief, ' Or doth thy purpose stand, 
 Or for his guidance hast thou fresh command ? " 
 
 " Bear back our answer. Dion much approves 
 Brave Memnon's ardour for the land he loves. 
 Bid him his ground maintain 'gainst every foe 
 Would force an exit from the vale below. 
 But from without should foes his post assail, 
 Be't his, by well-feign'd weakness to inveigle
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 277 
 
 Their onward step, till thro' the gorge below 
 Press the new myriads on our prison'd foe : 
 Then let his country's wrongs his bosom warm, 
 And let her vengeance thunder from his arm. 
 Enough, good Courier, speed. Hist, hear ye now 
 No distant murmur, as when breakers throw 
 Their wreathen spray on some far distant shore ; 
 Or such as mountain pines at midnight pour 
 Down the rare gale ? Distinct that growing sound 
 From those which rising from the gulf profound, 
 Now startle, as if spoke beside us there 
 Some unseen spirit of the Flood or Air ; 
 Now, distant floating in mid ether seem 
 Like phantom whispers of some shapeless dream." 
 
 Him answered Gyges : " Mid the mountains wild 
 Oft is the ear by Echo's spell beguil'd ; 
 For Proteus' power the Nymph commandeth here, 
 And thousand tones fantastic cheat the ear. 
 The mountain huge hath voices of its own ; 
 Deep heaves its bosom to the fateful groan,
 
 278 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 Presage of coming woe : and accents rude 
 Oft scare the stillness of the solitude. 
 For of the spirits doom'd to dwell below, 
 Each sterner nature haunts the mountain brow ; 
 And the vast caverns in its entrails min'd 
 Are throng'd with Genii, foes to human kind." 
 
 Thus Gyges spake. A silence long ensued, 
 
 Pursuing each his fancy's vagrant mood. 
 
 At length upon the breeze of night arose 
 
 A whisper small : the rock-deer's faint repose 
 
 It scarce had shaken ; yet the ridgy crest 
 
 Of the dark mountain started from its rest 
 
 As at the clarion call. That rugged height, 
 
 Which gloom'd so peaceful in the hush of night, 
 
 Now gleams with starlit arms and plumes that wave 
 
 Mid the stern, deep-ton'd murmur of the brave. 
 
 Seem'd it enchantment's stroke had plum'd that 
 
 height 
 With forest dense and all its deeds of night ; 
 And o'er that forest the night-zephyr stole, 
 And woke to music deep its slumbering soul.
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 27!) 
 
 From eras, to eras the low-breath'd murmur ran, 
 From rock to rock it leapt, from man to man, 
 Till, syllabled distinct, the busy sound 
 E'en at the Regent's ear an audience found. 
 Sinope first, then Indra's name, and then 
 The spell word " Victory." 
 
 In the hostile glen 
 The wakeful sentry hears as 'twere the clang 
 Of demon wings that in mid-ether hang ; 
 And, shuddering, closer draws his mantle round, 
 As the night-blast were chill'd by that drear sound. 
 
 The courier charg'd to scour that ridgy height, 
 And learn whence rose that murmur of the night, 
 Return'd at length. From height to height, he said, 
 From post to post, inquiring still, he'd sped. 
 Each guardian of the night had heard the sound 
 Progressing; onward from the farthest bound 
 Of the arm'd ridge, its source to all unknown, 
 Until the last night-sentry's beat was won. 
 He, whilst with measur'd pace he wore away 
 The lingering night, and humm'd his martial lay,
 
 280 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 Mark'd a young warrior from his sleep upstart, 
 
 Shouting the words deep grav'd on every heart, 
 
 " Sinope, Indra, Victory." The cry 
 
 Was echo'd by a comrade slumbering nigh, 
 
 And pass'd from lip to lip, till all that height 
 
 Thrill'd the wild cry, and gleam'd with flashing light 
 
 Of warrior steel. 
 
 The portent Dion bless'd, 
 To his small band at needful hour addrest. 
 These o'er the heights in groups discursive strown, 
 Add future fields to fields already won. 
 So sped the hour ; yet clos'd not ere once more 
 The mountain ridge a stir tumultuous bore, 
 Through which was heard, in fast-succeeding swell, 
 The challenge stern of wakeful sentinel, 
 And then swift hurrying steps. And through the 
 
 night 
 A wild form burst upon the Regent's sight, 
 And panting, gasping as for life, fell low 
 At Dion's feet, with dust-degraded brow : 
 And whilst in silence, strangely boding, each 
 Expectant listed that strange herald's speech,
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 281 
 
 A vague, but dire presentiment of ill, 
 
 Each heart arrested with its sickening chill ; 
 
 E'en Dion's spirit the contagion own'd. 
 
 "Whence, and from whom?" he ask'd. The herald 
 
 groan'd, 
 But lifted not his head that glance to meet, 
 As in faint whisper answering, " From the fleet, 
 The fight, Sinope." 
 
 Eloquent of woe 
 Those words, that accent, tremulous and low. 
 Apart the Regent sign'd him. " Now," he said, 
 " Detail thy tidings." But excess of dread, 
 Back'd by hard toil, the power of speech denied 
 To his parch'd throat. "Bring wine," the Regent 
 
 cried, 
 " Recruit thy strength, renew thy heart, then show 
 What tidings falter in those notes of woe." 
 
 The summon'd menials, at the Prince's word, 
 Before the courier spread a warrior's board, 
 Alike the Regent's and rude soldier's cheer, 
 Coarse barley cakes, and flesh of mountain deer ;
 
 282 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 And, sparkling high as vernal fountains shine, 
 From golden flagon pour'd rich ruby wine, 
 Of minstrel lov'd, all potent to inspire 
 In minstrel heart the rapt heroic fire. 
 Untasted on the board the viands stand, 
 But grasps that goblet rich the herald's hand, 
 And clings his lip, like lover's, to the brim, 
 Where flashing fast the purple fire-gleams swim ; 
 Then op'd his languid eye, his pallid cheek 
 Caught from the cup its rich empurpling streak, 
 The drooping form uprose in wonted pride : 
 " Now to thy tale of woe," the Regent cried. 
 
 " Our fleet at anchor off Amisus lay, 
 
 Rome's vast flotilla throng'd Sinope's bay. 
 
 The noble Chiron burn'd to tempt the fight ; 
 
 But Tywold's galley lack'd that arm of might ; 
 
 And Proceus, Mimas, Brastus, absent yet, 
 
 Strange hints of treachery circled through the 
 
 fleet. 
 Distrust prevail'd, by counter rumours stay'd, 
 That Tywold brought strong succours to our aid.
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 283 
 
 Then sprang with morn the long-expected breeze, 
 Vulturous,* ruffler of the curling seas. 
 With anchors weigh'd their oars our galleys ply, 
 Trim their white sails, and spread them to the sky ; 
 Like dolphins, sporting mid the foam, they sweep, 
 Ploughing long furrows o'er the billowy deep. 
 
 " Rome's vast armada, anchor'd in the bay, 
 At mercy, long, of our light squadron lay. 
 Full on those towering castles of the wave 
 Their iron beaks the swift- wing'd galleys drave, 
 The grapnels cast, and whilst a steely shower 
 Darkens the sky, as when black tempests lour, 
 The crews intrepid scale each galley's side, 
 And o'er the bulwarks pour their battle tide ; 
 Shouting their Indra's, their Prometheus' name, 
 Mid volleying blows and jets of rising flame ; 
 And hurling fiercely from the shatter'd deck 
 Each foe, yet rampant o'er the blazing wreck. 
 
 * The North-west wind.
 
 28-1 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 " Meanwhile the Roman fleet intact that lay 
 Their cables slipp'd, and, rowing, clear'd the bay. 
 Reform 'd their broken line and backward bore, 
 Sails fill'd, mail'd warriors manning each high prore. 
 The oars in triple tiers their labours ply, 
 The warriors shout, the strong-wing'd galleys fly. 
 Cleft by the keel the writhing billows lie, 
 Hissing like hydras in their agony. 
 What may sustain the first terrific shock 
 Of that dread phalanx ? What its fury mock, 
 So dense, so swift? Our light-arm'd galleys know, 
 And turn intrepid to oppose the foe ; 
 So springs the leopard from his bowery haunt 
 Full on the dire, gigantic elephant. 
 
 " I saw the coming foe. In shallop light 
 I stood, with minstrel lay to cheer the fight. 
 High tower'd their vasty prows. Each ample sail 
 A cloud impregnate with destruction's gale : 
 Shield link'd to shield, and crest surmounting 
 
 crest, 
 A dragon each, whom brazen scales invest.
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 285 
 
 The sun shone brightly o'er the rich display, 
 In golden blaze return'd his golden ray ; 
 A golden blaze, through which in shimmering glance 
 Play'd keener fires from sabre, glaive, and lance. 
 The azure wave, first trampled into snow, 
 Grew black in shadow of each gloomy prow ; 
 Then caught from arms and armour rang'd on high 
 The sunset glories of th' autumnal sky. 
 
 " Then met with crash that Heaven's blue concave 
 rent 
 In mid career each hostile armament. 
 Those iron beaks, like vulture's rending, go 
 Deep to the bowels of each groaning foe. 
 The engines, giant-like, heave up on high 
 Huge rocks, and send the tempest through the sky. 
 The mail-arm'd warrior crushing where they light 
 Like insects stricken by the hailstorm's might ; 
 And javelins rain a glittering, deadly shower, 
 And blazing torches their red mischief pour ; 
 And where the boarders scale the galley side, 
 A blood-red torrent meets the ocean's tide.
 
 286 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 Naught could the Roman galleys' shock sustain, 
 Our barks fell piecemeal, scatter'd o'er the main 
 Before their ponderous beaks. One crash, no more, 
 One yell of wild despair, and all is o'er. 
 Red roll the billows litter'd with the wreck, 
 And drowning forms, late guardians of the deck. 
 
 " Oh ! brightly shone our warriors in that fight, 
 Skill, valour, struggling 'gainst o'erwhelming might. 
 Our light-wing'd barks evade the hostile prow, 
 And, tacking, midships strike th' unwieldy foe, 
 Assail him still with iterated shock, 
 But waste like waves their fury on a rock. 
 Borne down, o'erpower'd, their wrecks the billows 
 
 strew ; 
 The deep, remorseless, whelms each hapless crew. 
 I left them not, till hope had left the fight, 
 And our small remnant spread the sail in flight, 
 What time, downbearing mid the North Sea's foam, 
 White sails bore succour to the fleet of Rome ; 
 Then hither hasted, night and day, to bear 
 These tidings dismal to my Prince's ear."
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 287 
 
 " And Chiron ? " said the Prince, " he should not be 
 Of those who live their country's shame to see ; 
 Chiron knew not the road to shameful flight." 
 
 " Nor knows it yet : he perish'd in the fight ; 
 Long strove to rally each retreating prow, 
 But, failing, steer'd his galley on the foe. 
 He doubtless perish'd. But the west wind's might 
 Uprose and bore my shallop from the fight." 
 
 " Bard of ignoble strain," the Prince replied, 
 " Liv'st thou to say, ' We fled, our hero died, 
 Our country wept ? ' What, could'st thou find no 
 
 brand 
 In her dread cause to arm thy woman hand ? 
 Or, lost that cause, was there no hostile dart 
 To pierce and consecrate a patriot's heart ? " 
 
 Abash'd the minstrel shrunk. The Prince alone 
 Explores his thoughts and lists his heart's deep moan. 
 " Alas ! his noble country ! Was it so ? 
 Had war's first billow laid her promise low ?
 
 288 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO -\. 
 
 How had she trod but now the curling sea, 
 
 How fair a thing, how sacred seem'd to be ! 
 
 Old Ocean crouch'd, her fairy step to kiss, 
 
 And round her roar'd, intoxicate with bliss ; 
 
 Or hush'd his waves, his tumult still'd, and press'd 
 
 Her beauteous image closer to his breast. 
 
 It seem'd as Heaven must note her wealth of charms, 
 
 And fence that marvel with celestial arms. 
 
 " O Heaven ! " he cried, " let each his several share 
 Of retribution singly, separate bear, 
 But spare my country. Not on her impose 
 Our crimes, our follies, our deserved woes. 
 O God of Battles ! bar not in our path 
 The barrier hopeless of almighty wrath. 
 Give us privation, torture, woe to bear, 
 But leave us hearts to suffer and to dare. 
 And leave, blest Liberty, as ever, still 
 The guerdon sacred of th' all-daring will." 
 
 He said, and walk'd forth in his virtue's might, 
 Proof-arm'd by faith in Heaven to guard the right.
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 289 
 
 He met his chieftains with enkindled eye ; 
 
 They read some great event. How might they 
 
 In that full tide of fire their glances meet 
 That stern resolve — disaster, and defeat ? 
 
 The distant sound which scarce had scal'd that 
 
 height 
 Now grew, and fill'd the boundless void of night : — 
 As when some river, flooded deep, yet pent 
 By mountain walls and winter's strong cement, 
 Its barrier sapp'd in deluge, thunders free, 
 And hurls th' uprooted valley to the sea, — 
 So that hoarse tumult. But a tide more dread 
 Dion in those continuous murmurs read : 
 Thy living waves, Arabia, Persia hurl'd 
 Swoln, with destruction, on a hapless world. 
 
 " Haste ye, my warriors, to your posts," he cried : 
 " Restrain awhile your followers' warlike pride ; 
 
 19
 
 290 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X 
 
 But when above this mountain ridge ye see 
 Prometheus' banner floating far and free, 
 Then from your eyrie to the vale beneath 
 Rush like strong eagles to the feast of death. 
 
 O CD 
 
 All there be foes. But ye shall none assail, 
 Save him whose fortune threatens to prevail. 
 Example terrible our need demands — 
 Th' annihilation of these locust bands. 
 Not victory's self your country long can save ; 
 We, or our foes, must fill destruction's grave. 
 Prevails the Arab ? Rend his robber ranks. . 
 The Scythian ? Thunder on the spoilers' flanks. 
 Spare not, till, minish'd, shatter'd, powerless, both, 
 With grounded arms they deprecate your wroth. 
 Think on your country's need, be keen, be true ; 
 Think, above all, on her deep faith in you." 
 
 Each kiss'd the hilt of his blue starlit brand 
 In deep devotion to his Chief's command : 
 Then sought his post. And Dion treads alone 
 The guarded circle of his mountain throne.
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 291 
 
 But swift events resistless thronging there 
 Divert the inroads of remorseless care. 
 
 Straight to his army of reserve beyond 
 The classic strand of wave-lash'd Trebizond, 
 Swift heralds speed, with mandate to prevent 
 Throughout that coast their Roman foe's descent ; 
 With powers and clear instructions to complete 
 And send swift succours to the shatter'd fleet. 
 This done, dismiss'd the subject from his mind, 
 His undistracted powers he bent, to find 
 In present victory the means to meet 
 Each baneful consequence of late defeat. 
 
 He walk'd along the arm'd and ridgy height, 
 At times dim measuring the waste void of night. 
 'Gainst the starr'd sky the sentry's form arose : 
 All else was wrapt in torpor of repose. 
 " Children," cried Dion, " of a bleeding land, 
 Blest Freedom's small but consecrated band, 
 
 19—2
 
 292 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO X. 
 
 Sleep on secure ; snatch, whiles ye may, the rest 
 Not always granted to the guileless breast. 
 Sleep in your innocence, your courage, sleep ; 
 Heaven's host above, around you vigils keep. 
 Your Prince high honour deems it to partake 
 Their cares, to watch, to suffer for your sake. 
 On some, perchance, the morrow's eve shall close, 
 Lock'd in a sterner, less disturb'd repose. 
 Ye shall escape, at least, one harrowing woe — 
 Your country's loss, the triumph of your foe. 
 And for the remnant who survive th' affray, 
 To bless the Giver of another day, 
 With Heaven to aid, we'll choke the rising sigh 
 In thankful songs and shouts of victory." 
 
 Those sounds, portentous of approaching ill, 
 Now sudden ceas'd upon the midnight hill. 
 A pause, long, anxious, more appalling far 
 Than e'en that human deluge' distant jar, 
 Ensued. But Dion scarce resum'd his post, 
 When shouts of skirmish high to heaven were 
 toss'd ;
 
 CANTO X.] THE EVE OF BATTLE. 293 
 
 The distant clash of steel, the rallying cry, 
 The yells of warriors in death's agony, 
 Transfix'd or headlong hurrying to th' abyss. 
 O Night ! dread mother of repose and bliss, 
 Sweet nurse of fairy dreams, must thou, too, know 
 Throughout thy solemn halls man's murder-yell of woe ? 
 
 END OF CANTO X.
 
 295 
 
 Canto XI. 
 
 THE SUCCOUR. 
 
 I> J± IR T I. 
 
 Light o'er the Euxine's curling waves of blue, 
 With roebuck speed, the sportive galley flew 
 Straight to the beach, where billows love to play, 
 And cliffs Caucasian beetle o'er the spray. 
 Behind her track for many a rood they spring, 
 Dark-bosom'd wanderers of the snow-white wing : 
 Scatter'd they seem as by the tempest's might, 
 Rent the proud mast, and bulwark's shadowy height ; 
 The very sail may scarce the blast delay, 
 That, whistling shrill, impatient glides away.
 
 296 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Yet joy seems common to the stately throng ; 
 Burst from each hull wild peals of martial song, 
 And plashing waves and rustling winds unite 
 That choir to swell, with harmonizing might. 
 Still as in turn they near the billowy shore, 
 Loos'd each white sail to float above the prore ; 
 Then furl'd and folded as the falcon's wing, 
 They stately glide, and fast in moorings swing ; 
 Then yields the song to many a rough sea cry, 
 And echo gives to boisterous oaths reply ; 
 As from each wave-rock'd galley pours the tide 
 Of life, dark streaming from her furrow'd side. 
 And now with stroke and flash of feather'd oar, 
 Shoot the trim shallops gaily to the shore. 
 
 High on that cliff the ancient Seer reclin'd, 
 
 His thin grey locks were scatter'd to the wind ; 
 
 His eye far turn'd upon the rolling main. 
 
 Yet though his ear may catch the wild waves' 
 
 plain, 
 No vision there may bless his eyesight dim, 
 No dancing wave is plum'd with light for him.
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 297 
 
 The waves roll on, the stately galleys glide, 
 But wave nor galliot streaks his visual tide. 
 There all is starless night, an ocean dread, 
 Sunless and breezeless, motionless and dead. 
 
 His grey dog still beside the Prophet lay, 
 Friend of his night, as follower of his day. 
 His own dim eyes now serve his master's need : 
 A light in darkness is a light indeed ! 
 
 Foremost two warriors land. Their bearing high, 
 The stately march, calm brow, and flashing eye, 
 Token alike command : but differing wide 
 In form and mien. This strode in giant pride 
 The trembling Earth, like him whose arm of 
 
 yore 
 Purg'd of each monstrous pest th' Argolic shore ; 
 And that, for stature less observ'd than grace, 
 Whose slight frame well beseem'd his angel face ; 
 Whose might not corporal, but the power confest 
 Of his high presence in each throbbing breast.
 
 298 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Such form thy maids, Athena, thrill'd to see, 
 When Phidias' touch th' imprison'd God set free. 
 
 Prompt at his voice the Prophet's brow was rais'd, 
 
 Intent that dim eye on the speaker gaz'd ; 
 
 And tho' no traits his glance might there descry, 
 
 Joy lit his features as he made reply. 
 
 " Com'st thou, my son, with laurel-wreathen brow, 
 
 From that bold course, so seeming fraught with woe ? 
 
 Oft would I weep that young, fair head laid low, 
 
 But not one tear from these dim eyes would flow. 
 
 Now thrills thy voice, like some long-buried strain 
 
 Lov'd of my youth, and calls that youth again. 
 
 And with my youth its promise fresh and bright 
 
 Of bliss unfolding to my country's sight. 
 
 What is thy spell, young chief, that each least tone 
 
 Of thine wields power long deem'd my country's own ? 
 
 That speaking thou, my country's voice I hear ? 
 
 That answering, starts the long-forgotten tear ? 
 
 That eyes so dark have learned again to see 
 
 The vision'd past remould itself in thee ? "
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 299 
 
 " Old Seer, forbear. The present need demands 
 Prompt, forward steps, steel'd hearts and ready 
 
 hands. 
 Speak brief thy tidings. Life, death, hope require 
 Brief, ready accents, and a tongue of fire." 
 
 " No tidings late have claim'd mine anxious ear, 
 No herald's, wanderer's step hath reach'd me here : 
 But visions fearful of the heady fight 
 Have chain'd my senses, since the dawning light. 
 I saw our host embattled, few, but bold, 
 The heights which wall some sunless valley hold ; 
 I saw the Scythian host beneath them strew'd 
 
 Countless as foam-globes of the ocean's flood. 
 I mark'd, that streaming thro' the tunnell'd side 
 
 Of that huge wall the Arab squadrons ride. 
 
 How then the demon of confusion rose 
 
 And mix'd in deadly strife our adverse foes. 
 
 From earliest dawn hath rag'd the bloody fight ; 
 
 But now 'twas raging with unminish'd might. 
 
 Thrice had the Scythian, thrice the Arab host 
 
 In turn the battle won, the battle lost.
 
 >00 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Still, as to either side the scale inclin'd, 
 Prometheus' standard floated on the wind : 
 And as it rose, the mountain's rocky side 
 Pour'd on the conqueror's flank its living tide. 
 And, equal, once again, the scales of fight, 
 Sinks that dread standard on the mountain height ; 
 And, summon'd from their work of death, retires 
 The patriot band, as that dread sign expires. 
 But, as eve's shadows vest the mountain height, 
 Each foe withdraws his torn and shatter'd might ; 
 Like cloudy hosts, when some strong wind divides 
 And piles their ridgy ranks on adverse sides. 
 Who lingers last ? The grim Erectheus there 
 I mark, like panther in his corse-strown lair, 
 In carnage riot high : his vengeful mood 
 Unstill'd, unsated by that feast of blood : 
 His mighty arm untir'd : terrific, grim, 
 E'en in retreat war lends her gloom to him. 
 His armour black with gory stains imbued ; 
 His sable steed bath'd saddle-deep in blood ; 
 His sable plume unras'd of hostile brand ; 
 The sword of ruin blazing in his hand ;
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 301 
 
 As some black eagle from the carnage flies, 
 His strong wing dew'd with gore of sacrifice." 
 
 " Enough, enough. Brave Tyvvold, give command 
 Our crews to muster on the surf-sown strand. 
 Urgent the haste. The fateful spot I know, 
 Where Dion purpos'd to entoil the foe, 
 From hence not seven hours' march. The dawning 
 
 light 
 Our band must usher to the field of fight." 
 
 Low Tywold bow'd, and, turning to depart, 
 
 That warrior stern held parley with his heart. 
 
 " Where Tywold's vaunted pride ? Subdued to 
 
 fill 
 A vassal's part, subserve a stripling's will ? 
 For high command he deem'd his spirit fram'd ; 
 An infant's voice the braggart mood hath tam'd ; 
 Still deem'd a captain 'mong the free and brave, 
 A leader counted, but in truth a slave. 
 Yet stranger still, that in the shock of fight 
 All yield subservient to a stripling's might.
 
 302 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 War's iron front, her practis'd skill and guile 
 Borne down, o'ermaster'd by a stripling's smile." 
 
 " My prince," the old man said, " I'll lead thee where 
 Thy steed for thee impatient snuffs the air. 
 Proud will he be thy noble weight to know, 
 Will bear thee fleetly on the robber foe." 
 
 He said, and tow'rd the cavern'd mountain strode, 
 Where Art or Chance had delv'd his rude abode. 
 Thence by an outlet, through the hard rock min'd, 
 Led his young guest a tortuous path and blind ; 
 That, merging sudden into open day, 
 Startled young Calthas with its bright display : 
 A grassy valley open'd on the eye, 
 Wall'd in by cliffs whose summits kiss the sky ; 
 Feather'd with tree and shrub of each soft hue, 
 May strike rich contrast with that heaven of blue. 
 Four streamlets gushing from the rocks around, 
 Thro' the green vale their coils of silver wound ; 
 Meeting to bask in lakelet still and deep, 
 Where aspens quake and drooping willows weep ;
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 303 
 
 And near whose marge with spire fantastic crown'd 
 A granite rock in lonely grandeur frown'd : 
 Like some vast minster, work of Titans grey — 
 Fane of old gods, whose rights have pass'd away. 
 
 The old man led to where that huge rock's side 
 Was upward cleft in tunnel high and wide ; 
 And, as by portal entering, onward strode 
 Halls, where with Twilight Silence held abode ; 
 Who, sudden scar'd by Echo from her reign, 
 Flew restless round, then settled grim again. 
 Thus wandering on, a chamber vast they won, 
 Where lights flash'd radiant as from noon-day sun — 
 Where gems of all rare form and all rich hue 
 Pendent in crystals stalactitic grew, 
 That dome immeasur'd clustering rich with dyes, 
 By Fancy imag'd but in Paradise. 
 
 Full in the central space where swarming shone 
 The hues that glorious vault shower'd richly down, 
 A war-horse, harness'd, stood. No form was there 
 With him the silence of that vault to share ;
 
 304 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Yet, all caparison'd for speed or flight, 
 
 He stood, his harness glistering with the light 
 
 Of matchless gems, that blaz'd and flash'd confest, 
 
 At each least movement of his noble crest. 
 
 He joyful neigh'd, as Calthas' step drew nigh — 
 
 Toss'd his proud head; fire flash'd from his dark 
 
 eye. 
 So light of form, so faultless fram'd was he, 
 Young Calthas deem'd in that rare steed to see 
 No mortal thing, but spirit, dwelling lone, 
 In the bright bow of hues that round him shower'd and 
 shone. 
 
 Exclaim'd the Seer : " He honours thee alone, 
 Last of his race, erst* sacred to the Sun. 
 A thousand years from mortal burden free, 
 His stainless race in vain have waited thee. 
 Fleet is his hoof, unmatch'd his bounding might, 
 He'll bear thee proudly to the chase or fight." 
 
 * u 
 
 Tag iv Tlitpiy Spty ctpyvpuro'iog 'A7roXAwv." — Mas, B.
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 305 
 
 The good steed knelt young Calthas' weight to bear, 
 Then joyful rose, and, bounding, trod the air ; 
 But at his rider's word his fires subdued, 
 And meek as lamb the prophet's step pursued. 
 He led thro' tunnelPd hill beyond the bound 
 Of that fair vale with mountains wall'd around. 
 Here spread the plain its velvet soft and green ; 
 A temple here with twilight aisles is seen, 
 Whose arches gray, o'erlaid with lichen's gold, 
 Droop'd down th' ivy's mantling banner fold. 
 
 Rano-'d on the sward in attitude of rest, 
 As waiting mandate to some high behest, 
 A lusty band of warriors strew the mead ; 
 Each holds by slacken'd rein a harness'd steed. 
 At once they rise ; their clanging armour sounds, 
 As each to saddle-seat impatient bounds : 
 Swift form'd in line, a gallant ridge appears 
 Of broad keen scimitars and taper spears. 
 Sable their steeds, the warriors' horse-hair crest, 
 Their harness black, and black the mail-lin'd vest ; 
 
 20
 
 306 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Of burnisli'd steel the massive helm alone, 
 
 And lance and blade in glancing sunbeams shone. 
 
 Silent and motionless the banner'd line, 
 
 Life spake not there in gesture, voice, or sign, 
 
 Till Calthas nearer drew : then, at a word 
 
 Falls the gay pennon'd lance and broad bright sword ; 
 
 And each keen eye in reverence beams on him, 
 
 And trump and bugle peal the martial hymn ; 
 
 And war-steeds champ the bit and scarce command 
 
 Their fires obedient to the curbing hand. 
 
 The old man sigh'd : " My son, behold thy guard, 
 Long for thy presence hold they watch and ward. 
 The hour ordain'd is come, full come, but we 
 Had fondly hop'd far other form to see. 
 But life and death, our country's need demand, 
 And Fate to thee assigns this chosen Band."
 
 307 
 
 THE SUCCOUR. 
 
 IP^RT II. 
 
 Meanwhile, within the fatal valley's bound 
 The Arab host and Scythian strew'd the ground : 
 Some in the sleep exhausted nature gave, 
 And some in trance, whose cradle were the grave. 
 And many still whose tortuous wounds bequeath 
 Nor slumber's balm, nor opiate strong of death. 
 O'er each and all Night pour'd her haunted shade, 
 And hid the wreck Man's hateful lusts had made. 
 
 To council call'd by Ukhbur's summons brief, 
 Flock'd to their leader's flag each Arab chief. 
 Worn, shatter'd relics of a gallant Band, 
 In groups dejected round the Sheikh they stand. 
 
 20—2
 
 308 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 No counsel they to his stern need afford : 
 
 Spent their whole aid, and foil'd that aid — the sword. 
 
 E'en Ukhbur's mind no last resource may know, 
 
 How force that pass, how triumph o'er a foe, 
 
 Whom the rude rocks bring forth his might to mar, 
 
 E'en when down beaten, yields the adverse war. 
 
 And whence those countless Horse? The mountain 
 
 rude 
 Ne'er rear'd that dense, o'erwhelming multitude. 
 Had Jooj, Majooj,* outburst from prison den (18) 
 For their last triumph o'er the sons of Men ? 
 Or Deev Sofaicl, by Roostum quell'd in vain, 
 Brought his dire brood to waste Mankind again ? 
 
 One crest, that sable plume of Death alone, 
 Had through the conflict held unwavering on : 
 One face had never swerv'd. In anxious mood 
 He sought Erectheus ; and Erectheus stood 
 Sudden before him. Started, in despite 
 Of pride, the veteran from that brow of night : 
 
 * Gog and Magog.
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 309 
 
 For not as mortal tower'd, like mortal stood, 
 Mid forms of mightiest mould, the Man of Blood. 
 
 " Welcome, dread Prince ! Thine arm hath sway'd the 
 fight. 
 Let now thy wisdom prove our beacon-light. 
 Pent in this den, where famine holds domain, 
 Our swords alone may burst th' enthralling chain : 
 But thou hast mark'd, when fresh of heart and might, 
 The faithful host maintain'd unflinching fight ; 
 How, when before our charge the foe went down, 
 And triumph would our righteous labour crown, 
 Earth's teeming womb a new-born host outpour'd, 
 And rag'd on flank and rear th' avenging sword. 
 Now, worn with toil, dishearten'd, wounded, slow, 
 What chance of triumph o'er this monstrous foe ? 
 Yet morn must hear our shouts of victory rise, 
 Or garish gild our blood-stain'd obsequies." 
 
 " Fate cherish'd of thy creed ! The Houri's charms 
 Boast ye not his rich meed who falls in arms ? 
 Then welcome Night's brief reign ; more welcome far 
 The fateful morrow and its doom of War."
 
 310 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XL 
 
 " True ; for the Soldier 'tis enough to know 
 Fate's mandate grav'd in mystery o'er his brow. 
 Higher the Captain's aims, and prouder be, 
 T" interpret each dark scroll in victory. 
 Thou know'st our need, our doubt : in brief, 
 
 declare 
 Canst aid our counsels, our wide wreck repair ? " 
 
 " Alike to me," Erectheus stern replied, 
 " All chances show. Death rolls o'er each his tide. 
 But to my aid and care ye've title good, 
 And something owe I for this feast of blood. 
 Of all the perils which beset you round, 
 The worst is doubt. Be some staunch warrior 
 
 found 
 T' explore the hostile camp, their purpose know, 
 Whence those vast hordes, and why become our foe. 
 I mark'd, that on their flank, as on our own 
 When fortune smil'd, that hornet brood came down. 
 Their sport, perchance, by turns, for them we drain 
 The o'erwrought spirit and exhausted vein."
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 311 
 
 " Keen are thy words as thy good battle brand. 
 Which of yon, Chiefs, would this emprise demand ? 
 Can mouth the jargon of this barbarous horde ? " 
 
 None answer'd. Fear o'erhung, like keen-edg'd sword, 
 Each awestruck turban'd head. 
 
 Erectheus cried, 
 " Mine be the task, by danger dignified." 
 Then from his brow the crested helm remov'd, 
 Whose nodding plumes the Fiend of Darkness lov'd : 
 Donn'd a close Scythian cap, and, fold on fold, 
 Round his swart arms his cloak disguising roll'd ; 
 Then strode into the gloom, and straight is gone. 
 Silence his egress mark'd ; and each grim son 
 Of battle, vers'd in war's stern, deathful art, 
 Drew freer breath, and own'd a lighten'd heart. 
 
 Through the deep shadows of the night, amid 
 Vast hecatombs of carnage, partly hid 
 In that black gloom, and part reveal'd to sight, 
 As torch or watch-fire flash'd its feeble light,
 
 312 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XT. 
 
 O'er turf grown fat with gore, Erectheus sped, 
 Through ranks commixt, the dying and the dead. 
 The few words caught of that barbaric host 
 Bore sound familiar, for the Euxine's coast 
 In youth he'd wander'd o'er ; in tent of felt, 
 With the poor fisher of Mceotis dwelt ; 
 Back'd the wild steed that wanders unconfin'd, 
 And chas'd the thistle with the desert wind. (19) 
 
 'Twas hard, o'er plain thick strewn with wrecks of fight, 
 
 Where yet the war-steed urg'd his frantic flight 
 
 With shrilly neigh, where gloom confusion cross'd, 
 
 To pierce the precincts of that barbarous host. 
 
 Yet fires, half swath'd in smoke, flash frequent there, 
 
 And dark forms flitting intercept their glare ; 
 
 And nearer still the hum confus'd is known 
 
 Of voices broken by the frequent moan ; 
 
 Increasing ever, till the spot be found, 
 
 And paus'd to gaze with searching eye around. 
 
 Stern was that gaze, and stern and strange the sight, 
 From thence to where the mountain roots unite
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 31 i 
 
 With the deep vale. Outspread before him lay, 
 Of lurid smoke and watch-fire's blood-red ray, 
 A firmament inverted. Such may know 
 The realms unblest of everlasting woe. 
 At random strewn those fires, as space allow'd, 
 'Twixt carnage heaps and pools of purple blood. 
 And round them flitting, scarce in human guise, 
 The shapes uncouth distemper'd sleep supplies. 
 The hide of steed for mantle round them spread, (20) 
 The gray wolf's spoil as bonnet for the head, 
 Begash'd with frequent wound and grim'd with 
 gore: 
 Thus satyrs foul appear, their drunken orgies o'er. 
 
 Here, o'er the carcase of a steed, that ne'er 
 To war or chase the desert child shall bear, 
 A dark form leans, and carves with glittering steel, 
 From the yet quivering haunch his reeking meal. 
 Here, basking in the watch-fire's ruddy ray, 
 Gorging, supine, a group of warriors lay, 
 And tore with gleaming fangs and reeking jaw 
 From blood-red steak the morsel rank and raw.
 
 314 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Broach'd on the shaft, ordain'd to deadly strife, 
 These broil the flesh must feed their lamp of life. 
 While some, more human, grateful aid repay, 
 Tend the good steed, his fiery thirst allay. 
 He, tethered to the corse of friend or foe, 
 Repays the care with murmur'd neigh and low. 
 The shatter'd lance, the dazzled pennon's fold, 
 The tatter'd vest and turban sprent with gold, 
 Feed the red flame. E'en avarice' voice is vain, 
 Sole hope th' escape from that ensanguin'd plain. 
 
 Confusion all. Nor front, nor flank is here : 
 One tangled mass the quick and dead appear. 
 Where rests their Khaun no clue remains to show, 
 None heeds, none questions in that general woe. 
 Erectheus gaz'd. Unsated yet thine eye, 
 Proud chief? Thine ear appeas'd not with the cry, 
 
 Which from those writhing, tortur'd heaps doth 
 rise, 
 
 Blaspheming Heaven with Hell's curs'd sacrifice ? 
 
 Oh ! not remorse that quivering lip can shake, 
 
 No pitying ray that stern brow's ice may break.
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 315 
 
 But shame at triumph for high Powers unmeet, 
 Lament o'er vengeance still so incomplete. 
 
 With step aye stumbling o'er the corse-strown plain, 
 Long had Erectheus sought the Khaun in vain. 
 At length an undule of the vale he near'd, 
 Whose summit dark with shadowy forms appear'd : 
 In crescent rank dispos'd, a silent band, 
 With eyes downcast and folden hands they stand — 
 Like granite statues group'd round Memnon's shrine, 
 Outliving those who fram'cl and him they deem'd divine. 
 
 Reclin'd the centre of that silent ring 
 Sat Baidoo Khaun,* wide Scythia's desert king. 
 Cloaks rudely pil'd upbuilt his regal seat, 
 And the long spear stood planted at his feet, 
 Drooping with oxtails from Tibetan mountains, (21) 
 Whence Indus pours o'er Earth his icy fountains. 
 His strong, tough bow of horn beside him lay ; (22) 
 His quiver, stor'd with arrows of Kathay ; 
 
 * This name is not historical.
 
 316 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Few arms could teach that stubborn bow to yield, 
 Few cope with Baidoo Khaun in battle-field. 
 His war axe, rich inlaid, and battle brand, 
 And bossy shield lay strewn on either hand. 
 Bundles of Scythian shafts and spears supply 
 The flames that, fountain-like, gush'd up on high, 
 Gleam on the arms, subside in purpling fire 
 Mid the rich folds that form his wild attire, 
 And from Night's void the massive features bring, 
 And vasty outline of the Desert King. 
 Behind, his favourite steed, a dappl'd gray, 
 With drooping crest enjoy'd the genial ray, 
 Stretch'd o'er his head to take the profFer'd food, 
 The lov'd caress with whinnying murmur woo'd. 
 
 On the Khaun's cheek the watch-fire's ruddy light 
 Show'd traits accordant with a frame of might. 
 Erectheus read at one keen glance the mind 
 More form'd to rule than triumph o'er his kind ; 
 Virtue and wisdom for the father's part, 
 A generous spirit and a dauntless heart ;
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 317 
 
 But not keen instinct's levin-bolt of light, 
 
 Subduing all things by its master might. 
 
 O'er his broad brow and features' swarthy hue 
 
 Its shadow black a sable bonnet threw. 
 
 A single jewel there of price untold, 
 
 The Jigha* blaz'd, like beacon o'er the wold : (23) 
 
 Sole badge of sovereignty those shepherds know. 
 
 A chain of gold constrain'd the heavy flow 
 
 Of the rich sable cloak that swath'd him round, 
 
 Where, gleaming bright, a jewell'd glaive was bound. 
 
 Of one, attendant there, he made demand, — 
 " Hast summ'd the Leader of the Oozbeg band?" 
 
 " T have, O Khaun ! The chieftain nought replies : 
 Seal'd are his lips and darkness shrouds his eyes." 
 
 " And him who rules Tana'is' mighty horde?" 
 
 " He laid upon his eyes thy sovereign word ; 
 But, faint from loss of blood the warrior lay, 
 And wide dissever'd from his own array." 
 
 * Jigha, a jewel representing a nodding cypress: the common pattern 
 of shawls.
 
 318 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 " A generous spirit in a frame of might : 
 We mark'd his prowess in the lists of fight. 
 What answer gives the Yem's uncultur'd lord?" (24) 
 
 " He roams, unheeding e'en his Khaun's dread word, 
 On that sad shore where silence holds her reign, 
 And thin ghosts flit and mandates all are vain. 
 
 " A boisterous heart, but brave. The black Kulpauk, (25) 
 Hath he obey'd our hest ?" 
 
 " Thy strong-wing'd hawk 
 Another lure hath train'd. I saw him lie, 
 Chain'd his strong wing; Death's hood o'er his proud 
 eye." 
 
 " Peace to his rest. No mightier ever drew 
 The blade of valour with a hand more true. 
 My Kara Ogloo, I behold not him?" 
 
 " He stands before the presence," said a dim, 
 Scarce earthly voice. " How tend my Lord's commands?" 
 
 " Bear swift our mandate to the scatter'd bands. 
 But hold. Art equal to the task ? "
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 319 
 
 " My Lord, 
 Strong is thy servant's heart." 
 
 " From horde to horde 
 Bear this our signet ring. Ere morning light, 
 Let each elect a leader for the fight : 
 Be 't his, the scatter'd ranks to form, combine, 
 That morning dawn not on a frontless line. 
 Thou and thy faithful horde the night-watch take, 
 And be thou wary, for thy monarch's sake." 
 
 He turn'd to go ; but, staggering, fell to earth. 
 To stay his steps a friendly form rush'd forth. 
 Too late, alas ! His dark, rude garment hides 
 Full twenty wounds, whence gush the vital tides. 
 Khaun of the Valiant, seek thou other hand 
 To bear the signet to thy scatter'd band. 
 
 Tears dimm'd the monarch's eye. " The lion- 
 hearted, 
 The faithful, generous, wise — are all departed ? 
 Too long in world so false Attaisir's son 
 Thy sojourn proves. Thy golden sands are run.
 
 320 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 Thy subjects wait thee in the Kara Koom,* 
 Whose sands are silence, whose black tent the tomb. 
 But who art thou?" he cried, encountering there 
 Of dire Erectheus' eye th' appalling glare. 
 "Speak! who?" 
 
 Replied the chief: " E'en whom to know 
 Hath cost thy shatter'd ranks no measur'd woe ; — 
 Who owes thee some amends." 
 
 The Monarch's hand 
 Instinctive wander'd to his battle brand ; 
 For stern defiance breath'd in every tone, 
 And the proud eye with vengeful lightnings shone. 
 Prompt spring the guards, around th' intruder close 
 In ring of levell'd spears and bended bows ; 
 But awe restrain'd each arm uprais'd to smite, 
 Till the Khaun's mandate rose upon the night. 
 
 " Ho ! harm him not ! The fearless here be free, 
 We love th' unflinching tongue, the never-trembling 
 knee. 
 
 * Black Desert: literally, Black Sand. The tract between the Oxus 
 and Caspian is so called.
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 321 
 
 Speak thy petition, Stranger, brief as bold : 
 Hard though it prove, 'tis half allow'd ere told." 
 
 " He fronts thee, Khaun, whom mortal never knew 
 For mortal boon to mortal power to sue. 
 We come to mark how bears the Desert lord 
 Reverse and ruin from the Moslem sword. 
 We come his views, his motives to demand ; 
 What seek his armies in our trampled land? " 
 
 " He will not lack, the countless nations' lord. 
 But this rude speech ! The harsh discourteous word 
 To him, whose nod the trembling nations own ? " 
 
 " Peace, Monarch. One who values not thy frown 
 Confronts thee. One whose utter'd word could sever 
 Thee, and the homage of thy hordes, for ever." 
 
 " Hah ! dost thou threaten ? " 
 
 " Threats and boasts beseem 
 Boys', women's prattle ; not the tongues of men. 
 
 21
 
 322 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XL 
 
 Thy fate I show thee. If the Arab host 
 Thou'rt come to check, already art thou lost. 
 If some strange error blind thee, hope may grow 
 By timely counsel from thy present woe." 
 
 " There's promise in thy speech, how rude soe'er : 
 'Tis bold and suits his need, who all must dare. 
 Hither we march'd our vassal's pride to quell, 
 And leave waste sites for cities that rebel. (26) 
 We deem'd to meet a half-arm'd peasant crew, 
 Without or funds or science, faint and few : 
 Sudden, her womb relax'd the labouring Earth, 
 And horsemen gave by myriads at a birth. 
 No mountain squadrons these. The whole might show 
 As vision wild. But all too real the woe." 
 
 Erectheus mus'd : " Who lur'd thy horsemen, then, 
 Mid yon waste mountains to this deadly den ? " 
 
 " The foe before us to the mountain fled. 
 Our onward path o'er Kawf's rude barrier led ;
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 323 
 
 Our guides the mountain race. Long stray'd we 
 
 here 
 In chase of foes still seen, but never near : 
 Deterr'd from scaling passes, where 'twas said 
 Hoar Winter still his snowy mantle spread. 
 Then forage fail'd. Our guide this vale made known 
 In pasture rich. We enter'd, were undone." 
 
 " Khaun, thou art grossly snar'd. The mountain snows 
 Long since have fail'd. Mere pretext this of foes 
 To hold thee here, mid barren rocks and rude, 
 Till Famine thin thy countless multitude. 
 Those defiles past, spreads many a swelling plain, 
 Where horse may act, nor pasture seek in vain. 
 Here Famine reigns. The mountains space deny 
 To squadrons charging, as to hosts that fly. 
 And this dire den, a very pitfall set, 
 By skill superior for thy simple feet : 
 So guarded now by mountain spear and bow, 
 No rock, no shrub but screens a living foe. 
 One outlet rests. Thy path to life lies there : 
 'Tis guarded fast, must yield to thy despair." 
 
 21—2
 
 324 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XI. 
 
 " We will not stint. But 'tvvixt us and the pass 
 Our late opponents leaguer, mass on mass. 
 Worn, minish'd now, what hope to rout a band, 
 Who in our might defied us hand to hand ? 
 Break we their ranks — " 
 
 " That never shalt thou boast : 
 If they resist thee, thou and thine are lost. 
 But thou nor sought our enmity, nor we 
 In this emprise deem'd aught of thine or thee. 
 Common our foe, our peril : mutual aid 
 Should crush, who both has equally betray'd. 
 A master Spirit wields us at his lust, 
 And, one with other, grinds our strength to dust. 
 This must not be. Dismount one horde t' assail 
 The North, while we the Southern rampart scale : 
 Ere morrow's dawn those ramparts must be won : 
 Then westward bending, link our bands in one 
 O'er the dark outline of this deathful den ; 
 That master'd, all is ours, and we are men. 
 Our present need this mutual aid demands. 
 That past, thy claim to empire o'er these lands 
 Ourselves will answer."
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUK. 325 
 
 " Soldierly and strong 
 Thy counsel sounds ; tho' mystery shrouds thy tongue. 
 Who art thou, stranger ? that we may, when free, 
 With rank and wealth make known our debt to 
 thee." 
 
 " Hereafter mayst thou learn. For, fail we not 
 Our hosts to rescue from this fatal spot, 
 A soldier's boon we will of thee demand — 
 On thy good steed to meet us, hand to hand." 
 
 " We never shunn'd the warrior's greeting rude. 
 Since peace thou wilt not, take our gage of blood." 
 
 The monarch from his girdle drew and gave, 
 Sheath'd in pure gold, his jewel-hilted glaive. 
 Erectheus proffer'd in return a brand 
 Of huntsmen worn, choice work of Syrian hand. 
 Its surface clear as mirror'd lake, betraying 
 Beneath ten thousand veins of azure straying ; 
 The hilt a mass of gems, so rich and bright, 
 The eye shrunk dazzled from their keen-ray'd light.
 
 326 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XT. 
 
 The monarch marvell'd at that kingly prize, 
 Perus'd the blue steel with admiring eyes, 
 Then tow'rd the donor turn'd in curious mood : 
 But there no longer stern Erectheus stood. 
 
 Long toil'd Erectheus o'er that fatal plain, 
 Ere reach'd the spot where Ukhbur held domain. 
 Brief he detail'd his tidings. Brief and stern 
 Replied the Arab : " Rather will we learn 
 Our necks to slavery's galling yoke to bow 
 Than league God's chosen host with Kawfur foe." 
 
 Grim smil'd Erectheus. " Righteous is the Host, 
 Who o'er their sires superior unction boast ; 
 Kawfurs those sires. Fling back the life they gave, 
 Brook not their contact in the very grave. 
 Oh ! shame to manhood. Those contend for fame, 
 For rank, lands, booty, vengeance, lust, or shame — 
 Whate'er their thirst, 'tis honestly avow'd; 
 Ye back your hellish lusts with name of God. 
 But choose your part. It recks not aught to me 
 If here your hosts ye sacrifice or free.
 
 CANTO XI.] THE SUCCOUR. 327 
 
 Alike the banquet of the wolf is spread : 
 If ye their feast, or foes whose blood ye shed, — 
 Kite, crow perchance, the flavour high allow 
 Of Moslem blood o'er blood of Kawfur foe. 
 Enough. Ye know your fate." 
 
 He ceas'd, and Night 
 Receiv'd his step and clok'd him from their sight, 
 
 END OF CANTO XI.
 
 329 
 
 Canto XII. 
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 IP A. U T I. 
 
 Daughter of Rhea and the golden Sun, 
 Aurora, youthful in the World's decay, 
 Still strew 'st thou roses o'er th' arena run 
 By great Hyperion's flaming wheels of day ? 
 How is the mighty fallen ! How past away 
 He who from Earth's embrace with Heaven arose ! 
 Th' ethereal steeds an upstart hand obey, 
 Yet tread in reverence o'er each votive rose 
 Once strown in gladness ; now, tribute of filial woes.
 
 330 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Orion lov'd thee with a warrior's love ; 
 His monster-quelling arm thine arms enchain'd : 
 Blest in thy charms he envied not high Jove 
 His throne; and, gazing in those eyes, disdain'd 
 Heaven's peerless huntress, pure and unprofan'd. 
 Ay, when bereft of sight he turn'd on thee 
 His darken'd orbs, they sudden power regain'd ; 
 Thy beauty set his prison'd vision free. (27) 
 Dark roll'd the sun ; he found his light, bliss, heaven 
 in thee. 
 
 O beauteous Queen of freshen'd hearts and flowers, 
 Smiling to bliss the soul-wrung tears of Night, 
 Waking to song the silence-haunted bowers, 
 Scaring grim phantoms by thy beauty's might, 
 Wooing all hearts to unalloy'd delight — 
 Ah ! can it be that man thy charms will shun 
 To toy with furies in their den of Night, 
 When nectar may from thy pure lips be won, 
 When in thy heaven-born smile his basking soul may 
 sun !
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 331 
 
 Oh ! sad the sight and foul that waits thee now, 
 Queen of the blooming cheek, the sunny brow. 
 Ope not thy golden portals, go not forth ; 
 Not Nature's bridal this, but Man's fell wrath. 
 Leave Night and Mystery undisturb'd to brood, 
 Nor break thou rashly on their solitude. 
 
 Morn slowly dawn'd upon the hellish scene, 
 On field with corses pil'd of steeds and men ; 
 Slimy with gore and gay with turbans strew'd, 
 And banners torn and garments roll'd in blood. 
 And with her light awaking yet to wrath, 
 Naka and horn their stirring peals gave forth. 
 Timbrel and shawm took up the stirring sound, 
 And huge kerreenas* scatter'd thunder round. 
 Here the Moowuzzin's sonorous voice is known 
 To prayer inviting : " God is God alone." 
 His minaret now the heap'd-up corses form, 
 Pulpit for him, as banquet for the worm. 
 
 * The largest war-trumpet of the Scythian.
 
 332 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Rous'd by those sounds throughout that vale of 
 
 death, 
 Like sere leaves stirring in the Siroc's breath, 
 The living rise, forsake the dead, and form 
 In groups, like clouds that muster for the storm. 
 To Mukka's shrine the turban'd warriors bow, 
 Th' ensanguin'd dust pollutes each prostrate brow, 
 Mercy's dread Lord with mutter'd prayer t' implore, 
 O'er deeds that sicken e'en the Fiend of War. 
 
 The Scythians, grouping, seek — how oft in vain ! — 
 Their chieftain's banner o'er that fatal plain. 
 Dishearten'd looks and faltering steps are there, 
 And scarce revenge can buoy them o'er despair. 
 That impulse dire to them is all unknown 
 Which spurs the Arab's flagging courage on : 
 Rapine and lust, indeed, their fires combine, 
 But claim no birthright of a source divine. 
 There, where the dead and dying thickest throng, 
 His mangled form the warrior trails along. 
 But late the foremost, where the mighty trod, 
 Scarce crawls he now upon the corse-strown sod ;
 
 CANTO XH.] THE BATTLE. 33i 
 
 Whilst from those heaps full many a wretch in vain 
 Lifts the pale head, then helpless sinks again. 
 O'er all shall soon the strong-hoof 'd charger speed, 
 And heedless trample on the quick and dead. 
 
 But mark yon dark, dense mass that moves alono- 
 Silent as death, uncheer'd of trump or song. 
 With spear and falchion arm'd and strong horn-bow, 
 They climb that height, they storm the watchful 
 
 foe. 
 Stern is the greeting each to each affords : 
 Spears dint on corselets, swords encounter swords. 
 But numbers urg'd by strong despair prevail : 
 The mountain bands, few, thinn'd, outnumber'd, fail. 
 The sweeping torrent dark of life rolls on, 
 Westward the ridge invades, and ere the sun 
 Streams o'er that valley deep the pass is won. 
 
 Meanwhile the Arab host the outlet throng. 
 Strait, dark the pass, the tide of horsemen strong. 
 Death and despair in rear, and life in view, 
 That treacherous gorge they headlong hurry through,
 
 334 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Each urging other : 'till the slippery rock 
 Betrays one floundering steed with sudden shock, 
 And o'er his prostrate form, horse, rider go ; 
 For what may check that living torrent's flow ? 
 What but the tangled heaps now writhing there, 
 And choking Hope's last outlet from despair ? 
 
 The Scythian Bands, the Moslem rear that press'd, 
 Now throng'd, impatient of th' unwelcome rest. 
 Sternly Erectheus struggles to maintain 
 Order and peace : his efforts all are vain. 
 Ukhbur, insensate, wheels his squadrons round, 
 Their ranks arrays, and bids the Tukhba * sound. 
 
 Then high to Heaven the battle-cry was toss'd, 
 The " Ulla Ukhbur " of the Arab host, 
 Answer'd by louder challenge to the war, 
 The Scythian's madd'ning shout and wild hurrah : 
 As the strong Northern horse and Arab fleet 
 In mid career, like adverse tempests, meet; 
 
 * The battle-cry of Muhummedans.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 335 
 
 Sweeping before their all-destroying breath 
 
 The leafless forest,* whose dire fruit is death. 
 
 And mingling dark Hyrcania's living sea (28) 
 
 With thy throng'd waves, white-turban'd Araby. 
 
 Then rose th' uprooted soil, and hid from sight 
 
 Forms dimly imag'd in the gray twilight : 
 
 But thro' the dusky canopy arose 
 
 The crash of meeting and conflicting foes, 
 
 The living torrent's fierce, impetuous jar, 
 
 The madd'ning shouts and tumult of the war; 
 
 And chiming deeply in a separate key, 
 
 The trampled Warrior's groan of agony. 
 
 Each hero, hanging on the mountain brow, 
 
 Drank in those sounds, commixt of wrath and 
 
 woe, 
 With ear athirst. Impatient now of rest, 
 The struggling foot advanc'd ; as oft repress'd, 
 Obedient to his Dion's high behest : 
 And the strong hand resign'd its deathful clasp, 
 And, as for life, the deep, broad chest did gasp ; 
 
 * Namely, of lances.
 
 33(5 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 And every nerve of sense to frenzy wound, 
 Hung the stern warrior victim to a sound. 
 
 Thus uproar wild, confusion dire had reign : 
 Ranks, mixt and broken, strew the deathful plain ; 
 Man grappling man, and steed with steed engag'd, 
 Disorder'd hate and senseless vengeance rag'd. 
 Ukhbur, Erectheus toil to recombine 
 The rent battalia and disorder'd line. 
 Wary the weight of Scythia's giant steed, 
 The Arab's lighter frame and fleeter speed ; 
 With Persian lances fill their central ranks, 
 With Arab sabres wide extend the flanks. 
 Wedg'd in a mass, the myriad steeds, as one 
 Champ the strong bit, impatient eye the sun. 
 While from their nostrils jets of vapour part 
 The smoke of fires which rally round the heart. 
 
 Then slack'd the bits, with one accord they launch 
 On the rude foe, like some vast avalanche, 
 Their ranks compacted. Not the Northern horse, 
 Strong tho' his frame, can bear th' impetuous force, —
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 337 
 
 The might concentrate of the Persian host : 
 
 They reel, they waver, turn— the battle's lost. — 
 
 Not so ; — more deathful in retreat than fight, \ 
 
 Each as he turns hath drawn a bow of might, (29) j- 
 
 A cloud of deaths conceals them from the sight. -' 
 
 Another rises, and another still : 
 
 The foremost Moslem ranks have own'd the thrill, 
 
 Headlong to earth mail'd steed and rider go : 
 
 The tide of war is broken in its flow : 
 
 And o'er the prostrate wreck tumultuous thrown 
 
 The middle ranks and rearward files go down. 
 
 But soon the valley's walls with curb of might, 
 
 Bring up that headlong, death-bequeathing flight. 
 
 There, sudden bay'd, the countless horsemen wheel : 
 
 They shout, they charge ! The Moslem squadrons reel, 
 
 Back in one dark swoll'n wave resurging far 
 
 O'er the whelm'd Persian rolls the tide of war. 
 
 Hark — hark ! on either wing the Tukhba loud, 
 As spurs the Arab on the frantic crowd : 
 Full on the rallying Scythian's flank he bears. 
 Well the bold Arab loves the shock of spears. 
 
 •2'2
 
 338 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 See how he bounds amid the tumult grim, 
 The waves of war be toys of sport for him. 
 His deep chest pants in transport of delight ; 
 His wide red nostril snuffs the steam of fight : 
 Arch'd his proud crest ; dark fire his eye inflames, 
 And the wild neigh his stormy joy proclaims. 
 O'erpower'd, opprest with this new tide of life, 
 The frantic Scythian scarce maintains the strife. 
 Fain would he flee; but whither urge his flight? 
 The Arab here, and there the mountain height ; 
 And more than mountain cliff, or Arab dire, 
 Erectheus' brow of gloom and eye of fire. 
 
 So Slaughter loos'd her harpies of the war ; 
 Her first-born Man quaff 'd high his Brother's gore. 
 How may that barbarous host the Fiend atone, 
 How plead for mercy in a tongue unknown. 
 Swift speeds the work of Death. Oh ! swift to woe 
 Man's step — to goodness and to blessing slow. 
 Deep, deep in gore his blade each Moslem dyes, 
 A Kawfur's blood his waft to Paradise.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 339 
 
 Then Dion bade Prometheus' banner rise, 
 And spread its folds to long-expectant eyes. 
 High; far it floats. The mountain legions see, 
 They hail the signal of their liberty — 
 Prometheus' standard to the winds unfurl'd, 
 Joy to the brave and freedom to the world ! 
 As the hoarse thunder, shouting, greets his bride, 
 So shout the patriots on the mountain side. 
 Like rocks by earthquake shaken from their throne, 
 From crag to crag they leap tumultuous down : 
 There, in the vale, shield join'd to shield, combine 
 In dense dark phalanx and compacted line. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis a pride that deathless Band to see ; 
 Their tread how firm, their glance how bold, how 
 
 free ! 
 Bright gleams the sun from helm and corselet thrown, 
 Many their frames, the soul that knits them one. 
 The strong spears bristle in a triple row, 
 Within their covert lurks the deadlv bow. 
 So mid rude hosts th' illustrious phalanx shone — 
 Athena's heroes and her Xenophon. 
 
 22—2
 
 340 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Young Theseus marshals them. His falcon eye 
 Flashes high zeal, presages victory. 
 See how along the faultless line he flies, 
 And reaps the meed of their admiring eyes. 
 Hoar veterans smile as on their youthful might, 
 And the young own their beacon thro' the fight. 
 Hark, as they move, in swift but measur'd time, 
 The soul of joy o'erflows in music's chime. 
 Young Theseus' manly voice the burden bears, 
 The chorus swell they with the clang of spears : 
 
 Stag. 
 
 " Ho ! for the feast of fight ; 
 
 The board of Death is spread : 
 Here banquet all sons of might : 
 There sleep the mighty dead ! 
 
 " The red wine flows around — 
 The sons of battle shout ; 
 The reeling squadrons strew the ground, 
 High swells the wassail rout !
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 341 
 
 " Strong is the wine of death. 
 
 Three beakers pledge we high : 
 Our beauteous queen, our free-born breath, 
 Our land — her liberty !" 
 
 Borne on the wings of freedom and of song, 
 They hurl their might in one swolPn wave along. 
 Down on the pausing Arab's ranks they bear, 
 And lend brief succour to the Scythian spear. 
 Hemm'd in and yielding to his turban'd foe, 
 The frantic Scythian, like his own strong bow, 
 Recoiling hurls his pent-up powers of life 
 Back on the Arab, and renews the strife. 
 
 Through the wild tumult of the heady fight 
 The grim Erectheus spurr'd his steed of might. 
 The shatter'd ranks his dreadful course betray, 
 And carnage strews behind his murderous way. 
 Thus, all-destroying in his course, he found 
 The Scythian monarch dealing death around.
 
 342 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 His mighty arm the turban 'd Arabs own, 
 And the red field with headless corses strown. 
 Him he accosted: 
 
 " Khaun ! Thy rage forego 
 On these, and turn thee on our common foe. 
 Thou know'st this gaze. At fitting hour again 
 'Twill meet thine eye, not idly, nor in vain. 
 Turn now thy glance upon our adverse flanks. 
 Know'st thou the foes that strew the Moslem ranks ? 
 Not thine those bands ; for late their brunt ye 
 
 bore. 
 The mountain children riot in our gore. 
 The Arab chief, besotted by his lust, 
 To heaven ascribes it, heavenward turns his trust, 
 With eye fast clos'd. Thy chosen horse command 
 To wheel, encircle swift yon mountain band. 
 Let them not charge upon the serried spear ; 
 Destruction lurks in deadliest ambush there ; 
 But, distant rang'd, from every quarter pour 
 Their darts, o'erwhelming with the steely shower. 
 Yon northern height, ye've rescued from the foe: 
 Where man can climb, the foot of horse may go.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 343 
 
 Thither your squadrons lead, dismounting scale : 
 Leave to the mad and dead this fatal vale." 
 
 Promptly the Khaun that counsel sage pursued, 
 Call'd forth his bravest from their toil of blood, 
 Their leaders prompted in the novel fight — 
 Then on the mountain phalanx hurl'd his might. 
 Around the patriot band his squadrons sweep, 
 As whirlpools gird some victim of the deep ; 
 Twang the strong bows, the darts incessant hail, 
 Their deadly showers transpierce the warrior's mail. 
 In vain they charge. The foe, like desert wind, 
 Leaves as he flies his sting of death behind. 
 Thinn'd are their ranks. Like autumn leaves they fall, 
 When hoarse-voic'd thunders on the whirlwind call. 
 
 Meanwhile the Scythian bands that senseless fight 
 Successive quit to scale the mountain height. 
 The Moslem host, relieved, each shatter'd rank 
 Turn on the foe who triumphs on their flank. 
 Hemm'd in that patriot phalanx grimly stand, 
 O'ermatch'd, unyielding, still a dauntless band.
 
 344 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 The bristling pikes their foeman's charge restrain, 
 From sling and bow dense deadly vollies rain, 
 But fast they fail. No mail of proof may bear 
 The storm of darts incessant beating there. 
 Still as they fall, the living close and show 
 A minish'd front, yet dreadful to the foe. 
 Dion beholds their need : from near and far 
 He summons succour to the failing war ; 
 His chosen squadrons marshals, and assumes 
 His steely helm with all its nodding plumes. 
 Calls for his steed ; that steed so bold and true, 
 Whose neigh was victory to the chosen few. 
 
 Mark where he moves in all his clashing arms ; 
 War on his aspect sheds her madd'ning charms ; — 
 The step that, curb'd to stately pace, can ill 
 Conceal youth's buoyant pulse and lightning thrill. 
 High, like the fleecy clouds, his war plumes 
 
 rise, 
 His rich cuirass th' ethereal hue supplies. 
 The silver belt, gold-boss'd, that clasps his form 
 Like dread Orion's threatens wrath and storm ;
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 345 
 
 Glisters the air around, like waves that span 
 The scaly volumes of Leviathan. 
 But would ye Heaven's imperial impress know ? 
 Mark the calm, massive, all unwrinkled brow, 
 That eagle eye which fronts the sun's hot glare, 
 Imbibing fires transfus'd to lightning there. 
 
 A sudden joy his matchless band possess'd, 
 
 Three mighty shouts their boundless glee express'd. 
 
 Their ardor, long restrain'd, now gushes forth. 
 
 How near akin the warrior's joy and wrath ! 
 
 They watch his eye, his step, already see 
 
 The victory won, their lov'd, lost country free.! 
 
 Past the descent : the vale of Death is won ; 
 Form'd the mail'd line and gleaming in the sun. 
 That bugle note, how well its cheer they know! 
 They sweep a tempest on the Scythian foe. 
 Before their charge horse, man, downstricken go ; 
 Their country's wrongs give weight to each home 
 blow,
 
 346 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Edge ev'ry sword. But chief, Prometheus' brand, 
 Flames like dread Azrael's sword in Dion's hand. 
 No temper'd blade may bear the lightning shock, 
 No quilted fold its downward impulse mock ; 
 Like blight of death it moves thro' that dense band, 
 Promethean temper in Promethean hand. 
 
 So sway'd the fight ; from early morn renew'd, 
 Nor yet appeas'd the slaughter-field with blood. 
 Though past the midway goal, and westward tending 
 Heaven's golden chariot now was homeward wending. 
 And Nature, fainting 'neath the Day-god's might, 
 Droop'd her worn head and panted for the Night. 
 So rag'd the fight. Where'er the patriots press'd, 
 The hostile ranks their matchless might confess'd. 
 But worn with toil, with slaughter wearied now, 
 Their nerveless arms scarce speed the deadly blow. 
 
 Around the phalanx Dion wheels his horse, 
 Now here, now there hews down th' encroaching 
 force,
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 347 
 
 Points where the mountain crags a refuge show, 
 Then, charging, cleaves a passege thro' the foe : 
 They, staggering, follow in his dreadful wake. 
 Their furious foes charge in, their phalanx break, 
 Young Theseus falls ; his followers yell. The sound 
 Reach'd Dion's ear : he wheel'd his charger round ; 
 Spurr'd to the rescue ; fell'd the foes that press'd 
 Their frantic steeds against the warrior's breast ; 
 Then, stooping from his sell, with grasp of might 
 Upcaught and raised him from the field of fight. 
 From his wild steed the nearest Scythian beat, 
 And help'd young Theseus to the saddle seat. 
 Then, mid death's billows plunging, wav'd his brand, 
 And clove a path for his exhausted band.
 
 348 PKOMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 F J± E T II 
 
 Meanwhile the Arabs on the south assail'd 
 The patriot bands, and numbers still prevail'd. 
 O'erwhelm'd with clouds of missiles, long they stood, 
 Bay'd on all hands and faint, but unsubdued. 
 'Twas not until, downbearing on their course, 
 The dread Erectheus led the Persian horse — 
 Five thousand bristling spears — that fear possess'd 
 The even temper of one patriot breast. 
 He halts the squadron. At his word arise 
 Dense clouds of missiles dark'ning all the skies ; 
 And ere the ranks their shaken wedge repair, 
 The horse are in, their strong spears stabbing there.
 
 CANTO XII. J THE BATTLE. 349 
 
 In vain black Gyges labours to restore 
 The vantage lost, and seals it with his gore. 
 In vain, with succours hasting from afar, 
 Their Dion rends a passage through the war, 
 Too distant yet. The work of death goes on, 
 The broken foot are trampled and o'erthrown : 
 The battle's lost ; — their very country's woe 
 Enhanc'd by triumph of their barbarous foe. 
 
 'Twas then upon the adverse mountain height, 
 
 Gush'd to mid heaven a jet of ruddy light — 
 
 A vasty pyramid of dazzling flame, 
 
 Which put the golden lord of day to shame. 
 
 Curling, it rose in spiral column twin'd, 
 
 Then stedfast settled, spite the mountain wind. 
 
 Firm as a spire of adamant it stood, 
 
 A spire surcharg'd with Heaven's electric flood. 
 
 At that dread signal, from the mountain height 
 
 Which bridges o'er the torrent's foaming might, 
 
 The Scythian host like mountain deer are 
 
 driven, 
 Or like Night's watchers by the Sun of Heaven.
 
 350 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Hurl'd from the crags they headlong plunge below, 
 Those crags reverbing yells of wrath and woe. 
 Above them, brandishing his father's spear, 
 On his free rocks grim hangs the mountaineer. 
 
 The wondering Moslem stay'd his arm of might, 
 As flash'd that marvel on his dazzl'd sight, 
 Dropp'd from his grasp the rein and sabre dire, 
 And gaz'd bewilder'd on the mount of fire. 
 Not long his gaze. From yonder mountain crest 
 Rank following rank the patriot legions press'd, 
 And from the deathful gorge, the open'd pass, 
 Of mounted warriors pour'd a lengthening mass. 
 Deploying now, their squadrons, dense combin'd, 
 Pause like some storm cloud tarrying for the 
 
 wind. 
 Along the ranks keen, fitful lightnings run, 
 As the blue war-blade greets the lurid Sun. 
 But dark, beside, as night the squadron's gloom ; 
 Sable the steed, the warrior's vest and plume. 
 Death marks the hue most grateful to his eyes, 
 And like a raven o'er the column flies.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 351 
 
 Who leads that force? Mark well that form of 
 
 might, 
 That blood-red plume, so fatal in the fight, 
 That eye and brow so stern, more dreaded far 
 By those he rules than all the plagues of war. 
 'Tis Tywold — name in war eclips'd by none, 
 Save Dion's fame. He leads them not alone. 
 Young Calthas' spirit — form, so frail and fair, 
 Their gaze absorbs, like angel liglned there. 
 He scann'd the field, the shatter'd phalanx knew, 
 And swift as falcon to the rescue flew. 
 His silver arms strange o'er that war-field show'd: 
 His plume, as sea-gull o'er a lake of blood. 
 Stern Tywold close upon his traces press'd, 
 Marshall'd the ranks, fulfill'd his least behest ; 
 Like father watching o'er an only child, 
 That warrior grim on only Calthas smil'd. 
 
 Erectheus mark'd the downward hurrying storm. 
 Rais'd his fierce shout, drew up his giant form. 
 Call'd off his bands from triumph incomplete, 
 Then spurr'd his mighty steed his foe to meet.
 
 352 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Full on young Calthas urg'tl his fiery course. 
 
 What mortal frame may live before that horse, 
 
 That rider's arm, terrific in its sway, 
 
 That fiery blade which mows whole ranks away. 
 
 Not thine, young chief! And thou, like shallop 
 
 light 
 In brunt of huge trireme, hadst set in night, 
 But that thy steed of more than mortal strain 
 Eludes the shock, the blow that falls in vain ; 
 And ere can wheel his coal-black charger round, 
 The mighty Tywold closes with a bound. 
 
 Oh ! dread the sight when heroes meet in arms, 
 Then War her carnage hides, unfolds her charms : 
 When might with might, skill baffling skill, we see, 
 And not for blood the strife, but victory. 
 So Tywold strove : Erectheus' vengeful mood, 
 Was still athirst, insatiate yet of blood. 
 Now foil'd as ne'er before his passing might, 
 The fiend of vengeance nerv'd him for the fiVht. 
 Thrice as they clos'd, with shock resounding far, 
 Their conflict silenc'd e'en the pulse of war !
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 353 
 
 The pausing host its earthquake influence own, 
 And wounded warriors still the dying groan. 
 But, as again they clos'd, some distant bow 
 Launch'd its keen shaft, and Tywold's steed laid low. 
 And the dire blade, down thundering from above, 
 Shear'd the red crest, the massive helmet clove, 
 Plough'd deep his brow. To Earth horse, rider 
 
 roll'd : 
 Death clasp'd the hero in his fatal fold : 
 Yet ere o'ermaster'd quite, he rais'd on high 
 His shatter'd brow and strain'd the blood -quench'd eye, 
 And tow'rd young Calthas stretch'd his arm in vain, 
 Already fetter'd in the Tyrant's chain : 
 Then laps'd that mighty frame, the heart-throbs ceas'd, 
 Ere Love's pure flame its shatter'd fane releas'd. 
 
 What turmoil raves ? what sounds the field affray, 
 As thro' dense woods some whirlwind held its way ? 
 'Tis Dion rending through the host his path : 
 Tornado's rage were tame beside his wrath. 
 The crash of splinter'd spears and helmets riven, 
 t And steeds o'erthrown, fills high the vault of heaven. 
 
 23
 
 354 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Hope, love, despair, lie knows nor whence nor 
 
 why, 
 Nerve his strong arm, lend terror to his eye. 
 The spears he reeds : as potsherd vain and frail, 
 Barb'd steed and rider panoplied in mail. 
 Fix'd on Erectheus' sable crest his gaze, 
 Hope, fear alike on him converge their rays ; — 
 And straight as arrow from the Parthian bow, 
 His course of havoc tow'rd that mighty foe. 
 
 The turmoil wild reach'd grim Erectheus' ear, 
 He knew some ruler of the battle near, 
 Left Calthas in his blood and wheel'd him round, 
 And on the foeman urg'd his charger's bound : 
 But when he knew his rival's towering crest, 
 Delirious joy his vengeful soul possess'd. 
 Already there in hate's keen second sight 
 His foot is trampling on those plumes of white, 
 Effacing from the features' mould sublime 
 Each hateful vestige of Prometheus' line. 
 A shout of fiery joy his soul betray'd, 
 High pois'd he shook his all- destroying blade —
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 355 
 
 That blade which, forg'd in flames of wroth and woe, 
 Was temper'd keen in Stjgian billows' flow. 
 
 As two tall cliffs, disparted by the roar 
 Of hoarse deep floods, from snowy realms that 
 
 pour, 
 Together rush impell'd by earthquake's thrust, 
 While forests crash, and rocks are ground to dust, — 
 So o'er war's billows towering in their might, 
 Rush those dread foes to mix their souls in fio-ht. 
 Their steeds, the raven black and hue of snow, 
 See each in other's form a mortal foe. 
 Like dragons fiercely to the charge they fly, 
 Snorts the wide nostril, flames the dark red eve, 
 Scarce felt the bit, the master-hand scarce own'd, 
 With pawing hoof and wounding teeth they bound. 
 And as they meet, those dreadful blades on high 
 Sweep fiery arcs which measure out the sky : 
 This the red hue imbib'd in realms of Night, 
 And that Truth's brand from armoury of Light ; 
 As Comet dire and Morn's effulgent Star 
 Their spheres had left to wage portentous war. 
 
 23—2
 
 356 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CAKTO XII. 
 
 That conflict fierce Earth's firm foundation shook, 
 The battling foes their strife of blood forsook, 
 Leant on the brand or spear each languid form, 
 And grouped like herds that watch the coming storm. 
 That mightiest strife inspires undreamt alarms, 
 And puts to shame their puny deeds in arms. 
 
 Five times, [with shock that palsied Earth's strong- 
 frame 
 Down to the dismal realms of wroth and shame, 
 Those heroes met ; as oft with frantic bound 
 Their steeds, ungovern'd, disappoint the wound ; 
 And those keen swords, so fearful in their sway, 
 Innocuous clash or rend but plumes away ; 
 Yet when they meet long tongues of fire outstart, 
 As from some cloud where lightnings whet the dart, 
 And the high clang fills heaven's affrighted bound, 
 As ^Etna's caves Cyclopean blows resound. 
 But when at length their chargers' rage represt, 
 They hand to hand contend, and crest to crest, 
 Their perfect skill, their equal strength afford 
 No vantage pass to either deadly sword.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 357 
 
 Wheeling as eagles in the starry sky, 
 
 In dizzy whirl their circling chargers fly ; 
 
 Now meet, now part, the rear, the flank invade, 
 
 While flash by flash down whirrs the deadly blade. 
 
 No mail of proof avail'd in that stern fight : 
 
 The sword of Fire met there the sword of Light. 
 
 Had either fail'd the falling blow to ward, 
 
 Corselet and helm had vainly spread their guard. 
 
 To frenzy fir'd such equal might to know, 
 And meet it wielded by his mortal foe, 
 Erectheus rous'd his every nerve to life, 
 Resolv'd with one fierce blow to end the strife, — 
 With voice and rein his charger's mettle stirr'd — 
 Then with concentrate hate on Dion spurr'd. 
 A whirlpool's force, which sucks a navy down, 
 In his right arm, Hell's fury in his frown ; 
 His steed, like some black billow from beneath 
 Upheav'd by earthquake o'er the sea of Death ; 
 Like scythe of Fate his sword's huge segment 
 
 show'd, 
 Or Death's red rainbow in a sky of blood,
 
 358 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 As mustering all his soul lie rose on high, 
 
 And launch'd the deathful weapon from the sky. 
 
 Prometheus' brand the blazing mischief stay'd, 
 But blow so fierce the stable guard o'ersway'd, 
 Cleft the high crest, the marble brow laid bare, 
 But, baulk'd its fury, paus'd reluctant there. 
 E'en as it fell, his war-steed Dion made 
 Rear high in air — then flash'd Prometheus' blade ; — 
 No eye might view it. But behind it came, 
 And linger'd there, a pale, blue, liquid flame, 
 Like that seen o'er Oileus' impious head 
 When Pallas' bolt his breast transfixing sped, 
 As high she caught him with a whirlwind shock, 
 And dash'd him mangled on the pointed rock.* 
 Th' infernal blade no more that edge withstood, 
 But sever'd fell, disgorging pools of blood. 
 
 Hurl'd from his war-sell on the field of fight, 
 Erectheus fell in his arrested might : 
 
 " Ilium exspirantem transfixo pectore flammas 
 Turbine corripuit, scopuloque inflxit acuto." — ^neid.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 359 
 
 The sullen clang his sable armour gave, 
 Succeeds a silence, settled as the grave. 
 None dare believe that battle-breaker low, 
 None dare approach to mark the stricken foe. 
 Hate and revenge absorbs their mightier dread, 
 His very victim half averts the head. 
 
 Prone lay Erectheus. Life not yet was past, 
 
 Tho' the red torrent now was ebbing fast. 
 
 Above, with drooping crest and weeping mane, 
 
 Stood his black steed, the terror of the plain. 
 
 The war, the chase, life's fortune, smile and frown, 
 
 That matchless courser with his lord had known : 
 
 And faithful most when all have fickle prov'd, 
 
 Still fondly lingers by the lord he lov'd. 
 
 And have all else forsae'en him? Doth his sight 
 
 But paint some phantom of Death's gathering might ? 
 
 Or is she there, the lov'd, the lost, the lone, 
 
 Sole power his stern, relentless heart hath known. 
 
 How wan that cheek ! How soul-crush'd that deep 
 
 eye! 
 The battle's roar drowns not that heart-wrung cry, —
 
 360 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Despair's last sob. For all indeed is lost, 
 The seal is set, the die for ever cast. 
 Dark shadows grow upon his swimming sight, 
 And gloom within meets — blends with outer night. 
 Long stood that steed impatient of his rest, 
 His dark mane drooping o'er his master's breast, 
 With murmur'd neigh and pawing hoof in vain 
 Would rouse that heart shall never throb again ! 
 
 Oh ! not an instant Dion paused to scan 
 His foeman's fall. His eye wild-flashing ran 
 O'er that red plain. He starts. Extended there, 
 Where mighty Tywold makes his bloody lair, 
 A warrior lies : his plumes of white are strew'd 
 O'er the red turf: his corselet plash'd with 
 
 blood, 
 His silver buckler cleft. Entranc'd he lay, 
 If life indeed hath not yet ebbed away. 
 Why trembles Dion ? He, good sooth, knows not, 
 Yet quits his steed and hurries to the spot ! 
 Bends o'er the seeming youth, his casque removes, 
 And sees — joy, rapture, misery ! — her he loves.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 361 
 
 Yes ! tis his Indra. Wonder, triumph, fear, 
 Distract his soul : for she he loves lies here, 
 Pale, in her faultless beauty ; her large eye 
 Clos'd as the violet when the storm raves high. 
 He calls her name. He shouts it with the might 
 That oft hath turn'd the adverse host to flight. 
 She ope's her languid eye. In his strong arms 
 Uprais'd he bears her all-unconscious charms ; — 
 His proud steed mounts. His warriors rally round, 
 Call'd by the spell of that thrice-honour'd sound. 
 He lifts his dreadful crest. His voice afar 
 Terrific shouts defiance to the war. 
 Leap the bold hearts of all his warriors high, 
 They know but triumph in that battle cry. 
 Their broken phalanx swiftly they reform, 
 Their shaken squadrons muster for the storm. 
 Full on the pausing Persian host he bears, 
 Rends their dense ranks and snaps their brittle 
 spears. 
 
 In vain the Scythians, rallying, urge the fight ; 
 Their monarch falls before his matchless might :
 
 362 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Dion to him and his vast host accords 
 
 Their lives in purchase of their render'd swords. 
 
 Then on the Arabs spurs. Stern Ukhbur still 
 
 Fought without hope, but with unswerving will. 
 
 His turban'd warriors, hope's last vestige lost, 
 
 Fought still, a minish'd jet a mighty host. 
 
 Forth from the patriot band a horseman press'd : 
 
 No corselet screen'd this mountain shepherd's breast. 
 
 A buckler bright upon his arm he bore, 
 
 And grasp'd a spear oft stain'd in sylvan war. 
 
 The Arab chief he met in full career, 
 
 And smote to earth with his transfixing spear. 
 
 " Die, stain to manhood, infant murderer, die ! 
 
 Know'st thou the Shepherd thou didst late defy, 
 
 Jarthon, thy mountain guide, whose infant's blood 
 
 Thou wouldst have pour'd forth on the torrent's flood? 
 
 'Tis shame to smite so hoar a head as thine ; 
 
 'Twere sin to leave thee, heaping crime on crime." 
 
 He said, and left him in his gore. 
 
 And now, 
 Dion withheld his squadrons from the foe,
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 363 
 
 Their leader fall'n, destruction pressing hard, 
 He grace proclaims for each surrenders! sword. 
 The few stern zealots who that grace disdain 
 Hemm'd in, o'erpower'd, are trampled down and slain. 
 
 Then Dion spurr'd to reach a swelling height, 
 Whose verdant turf had 'scap'd the stains of fight ; 
 His ardent followers, hither hasting, bring, 
 The cushion'd throne of Scythia's captive king : 
 Carpets, and furs, and rich brocades of gold, 
 In one vast pile together heap'd and roll'd, 
 A lofty seat upbuild. Alighting down, 
 He bears, instals her on her country's throne. 
 Unwinds the arms that still around him grow, 
 Salutes her queen, and, kneeling, bends the brow. 
 Confus'd, amaz'd, scarce waken'd from her trance, 
 She casts on him, on all, a wilder'd glance. 
 For truth so blissful credence cannot find, 
 Dire tumults threaten to divorce her mind. 
 
 Around, on either hand, the phalanx stood, 
 Begrim'd with dust, with wounds deform'd and blood ;
 
 364 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [ CANTO XII. 
 
 In front the Horse, a deep, dense column frown'd, 
 But vest and armour token'd many a wound : 
 Deep silence long repress'd their anxious dread, 
 But, when their queen uprais'd her drooping head, 
 And round her gaz'd, while o'er her head the fire, 
 Lambent and pure, of her illustrious sire, 
 Descending play'd, — their joy, their triumph rose 
 In shouts, heart-withering to their vanquish'd foes : 
 " Indra, our queen, our queen ! " Heav'n's concave 
 
 vast 
 Round and around those thrilling thunders cast, — 
 While flash'd the blade and wav'd the pennon fold, 
 And the wide sea of plumes tumultuous roll'd ; — 
 And war steeds, deeming other fields were nigh, 
 Toss'd their proud manes, like thunder-clouds, on high. 
 
 Strange was the Maiden's guise ; — of silver fair, 
 With gold-emboss'd cuirass and gorget rare. 
 But, helm and gorget loos'd, down stream'd to view 
 Each long rich tress of hyacinthine hue, 
 Streaking her ermin'd robe and corselet bright, 
 And throat so pure, with hues of tenfold night.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 365 
 
 Strange was that guise for beauteous maid I ween : 
 
 But each stern warrior gaz'd upon his queen, 
 
 His land's deliverer, and in her renew'd 
 
 The line of heroes of Promethean blood. 
 
 And who beheld the corselet's ruddy stains 
 
 Of life-blood trickling from her pure, sweet veins, 
 
 But treasur'd up the pledge mid memories dear, 
 
 Home's, Heaven's high claims, his very country's tear. 
 
 And now, long filing twixt a double row 
 Of levell'd pikes, the Vanquish'd wended slow. 
 Each as he pass'd, his weapon pil'd, and gave 
 A vassal's homage to the peerless Maid. 
 Princes and Nobles, Chiefs and Syuds* pure, 
 Kulpaukf and Turban penance like endure. 
 The arms up-pil'd four lofty pyramids show, 
 Of lance and sabre, battle-axe and bow. 
 Guards and videttes around the foe they post, 
 In number still a dense, o'erwhelming host. 
 
 * Syud, a descendant of the Muhuramedan's Prophet. 
 f The cap of fur of the Scythian.
 
 866 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 'Twas Summertide ; o'ertoil'd, the Steeds of Day- 
 Held thro' the clouds of eve their homeward way. 
 Yet paus'd on great Prometheus' land to see 
 His line restor'd, his long-lost country free. 
 The clouds up-pil'd in towers fantastic rise, 
 To youthful gaze an untrod paradise. 
 Full in the midst, from out his massive hold, 
 Apollo whelms the skies with molten gold. 
 That mighty flood, too bright when first it rose 
 For mortal eye, turns crimson as it flows, 
 And heaven's rich azure meeting, ebbs in waves 
 Of purple, varying as the clouds it laves — 
 Gold-coasted clouds that, like th' Hesperian isles, 
 Bask in the sunshine of the Day-god's smiles. 
 
 Bland was the air. Day's fervour all was done, 
 Soft sighs came floating from the westering sun. 
 A little cloud, slow flitting o'er the plain, 
 From moist wing flirted down the sparkling rain. 
 And at its bosom bore in sportive play 
 An infant rainbow from the God of Day.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 367 
 
 But who the foreground shall depict, where stood 
 Those ardent warriors, breath'd from toil and blood ? 
 The level rays their warm, bright hues impart, 
 From helm and blade in dazzling pencils dart, 
 On waving plumes prismatic glories throw, 
 And banners teach to mate the show'ry bow. 
 But more than tints, ethereal beams display 
 Emotions stampt on every living trait : 
 The power by turns joy, rapture, wonder prove, 
 And fervid blessing and adoring love. 
 
 But Indra saw not, knew not of the sky, 
 
 Eve's growing shades or balm-distilling sigh ; 
 
 The very throng array'd in glittering arms, 
 
 Entranc'd in wonder of her matchless charms. 
 
 The plaudits, blessings, shouts of triumph all 
 
 Unheeded rise, unnoted round her fall. 
 
 One form she sees, one eye, one glance alone, 
 
 Tho' her lov'd country round her breath'd and 
 
 shone : 
 That form, that glance is Dion's. Pale he knelt, 
 With eye that ever fondly, raptly dwelt
 
 368 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 On her lov'd face, with voice that murmuring found 
 To breathe her name, then bless the beauteous 
 
 sound. 
 Oh ! what to either years of suffering past, 
 Since here they meet in life, in peace at last ! 
 There's not one woe their backward gaze may spy 
 But adds fresh blessing to the rapture nigh. 
 
 A herald comes. The op'ning crowd gives way. 
 What tidings bears he from Sinope's bay ? 
 Dion alone half dreads his queen should know, 
 In this her mood o'erwrought, the tale of woe. 
 The herald speeds, his frame with toil o'erworn, 
 His gorgeous robes with briar and thicket torn ; 
 His reeling steps denote unswerving speed, 
 But on his brow no woe can Dion read. 
 Scarce hath he paus'd obeisance low to make, 
 Ere from his lips the glowing tidings break : 
 " Rejoice, rejoice, my prince ! the battle won! 
 Our fleet victorious ! tyrant Rome's o'erthrown ! 
 A hundred galleys scatter'd o'er the deep, 
 Three score and ten black Pontus' caverns keep :
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 369 
 
 And thrice a hundred, with the crews that mann'd, 
 Our fleet hath train'd in triumph to the strand. 
 Rejoice ! rejoice ! " 
 
 " How, what ? Rash man, beware ! 
 Falsehood were treason in thy sovereign's ear. 
 Another herald, who beheld the fight, 
 Reports Rome's triumph, our disastrous flight." 
 
 Then Indra spake : " Both tidings true have shown : 
 The day was lost. We rallied: it is won." 
 
 " Thou, Indra, gracious queen ! Thou there expose, 
 As here, thy sacred life to murderous foes ! 
 Oh, say not thus." 
 
 " Speak, herald ! " Indra said, 
 " Declare how far'd the day, who won, who fled." 
 
 But speechless long the gazing herald stood, 
 By that rare beauty dazzled and subdued. 
 He heard her titled " queen." Hope, joy, amaze 
 At once within his troubled bosom blaze. 
 Scarce found he words at length : 
 
 24
 
 370 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 " In full retreat, 
 Press'd by Rome's galleys, fled our sliatter'd fleet, 
 In number, size, unequal long to brave 
 Those ponderous three-deck'd tyrants of the wave. 
 Sails hove in sight, down bearing from the north, 
 Pursued, pursuer their whole strength put forth, 
 Those in the hope — how faint ! — of succour there, 
 These lest allies the promis'd booty share. 
 They grow in size, mast, spar and hull emerge, 
 Then the long oars that aye her progress urge. 
 They grow apace, they hurry down, and now 
 We hear the surge hoarse roar against each prow. 
 A gallant fleet, wedge-form'd, they hither fly, 
 Like white swans sailing in a summer sky. 
 The foremost, swiftest, mightiest of the line, 
 All eyes explore her keenly for a sign. 
 No flag appears ; but on the poop we spy 
 A form that fills with light each gazer's eye — 
 A youthful warrior seem'd he ; but we saw 
 Beauty and grace surpassing mortal law. 
 All winsr'd for heaven beside the helm he stood, 
 And stretch'd his hand as 'twere to sway the flood.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 371 
 
 Swift on the Roman fleet his galley goes, 
 And midships smites the mightiest of our foes. 
 Mid crash of meeting barks and arrowy storm 
 He stands serene, as one exempt from harm. 
 His followers well their several parts maintain, 
 And, wearing round, w T e tempt the fight again. 
 Of Rome's vast fleet a scatter'd remnant flee. 
 I sped with tidings of the victory." 
 
 Swift through the ranks that glorious notice spread : 
 " Rome's dire Armada, captur'd, sunk or fled, 
 Their queen, their Indra, victrix then as now. 
 Two crowns of oak to grace her conquering 
 
 brow ! " 
 Three veterans seam'd with scars, in warfare grey, 
 At Indra's feet the votive chaplets lay. 
 Her brow to crown is Dion's honour'd care ; 
 Their joyous shouts rose blent with heartfelt prayer. 
 Tho' warriors they who shout the high award, 
 Yet patriots, too ; her country's voice she heard : 
 Her country's voice, its blessing pure and warm, 
 Its freedom won, renew'd its every charm ; — 
 
 21—2
 
 372 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Her Father's throne unsought to her restor'd, 
 And, crowning bliss, her heart's own chosen lord. 
 She rose to speak, her voice the utterance tried, 
 " My friends, my people " — there in sobs it died. 
 Passion's strong conflict all her soul alarms, 
 She trembles, totters, — falls, to Dion's arms. 
 Those arms around her wind, that voice so dear 
 Breathes her lov'd name, instils and whispers 
 
 cheer. 
 Well hast thou found the haven of thy rest, 
 His bliss thou art, and in his blessing blest. 
 Thy strength in need, thy courage in despair, 
 Heaven's own vicegerent of thy heart is there. 
 
 So deep absorpt were both, the tumult loud, 
 That instant rising from the warrior crowd, 
 They heeded not. " The Seer, the Prophet, ho ! 
 Give way. He comes with blessing on his brow." 
 Two milkwhite mules the Prophet's litter bear, ' 
 He cleaves the ranks, he nears the royal pair. 
 There lighting, staid his steps of reverend hands, 
 Confronting Indra's throne the Prophet stands.
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 373 
 
 Erect he stood. Against the evening sky 
 Reliev'd distinct those traits sublime and high. 
 Round his tall form the robe flow'd loose and fair, 
 The breeze blew back his white, far-floating hair : — 
 On Indra fixed that eye, so dim till now, 
 Which blazing fills with light th' o'erarching 
 
 brow. 
 The box of gold unseal'd he first, and shed 
 The sacred unguent o'er the Maiden's head. 
 Then heavenward stretched his arms, the while elate 
 His breast seem'd swelling with the voice of Fate. 
 
 " Now close, thou dull, dim eye. Enough for thee ^ 
 
 Thy queen, Prometheus' matchless child to see, 
 Thy country's wrongs aveng'd, her children's children 
 
 free ! 
 Yea, close, dim eye, nor deign on earth to gaze, 
 Nor ope till wak'd by heavenly hymns of praise. 
 Long, long and weary was thy night of gloom, 
 Prometheus' exile, his sad country's tomb. 
 But from his ashes see the phoenix soar, 
 The selfsame wings her godlike father bore,
 
 374 PROMETHEUS' DAUGHTER. [CANTO XII. 
 
 Promethean majesty in form refin'd, 
 
 A soul as lofty, but a fate more kind. 
 
 I see the clouds with future blessings stor'd, 
 
 The deep for her his unsunn'd treasures hoard. 
 
 I see the rivers waft her peace and wealth, 
 
 I hear the breeze soft whisper promis'd health. 
 
 From Heaven above the dews ripe form'd distil, 
 
 While laughs the vale and shakes the wood-crown'd hill, 
 
 And woods and wilds in peaceful verdure drest 
 
 Bless her who governs — yea, who shall be blest. 
 
 " Hark to the wings of Spirits fluttering nigh : 
 Faint voices whisper from the starry sky. 
 These from her head avert each baleful ray 
 Of sun, moon, star : those call the Seer away. 
 Oh, then, farewell, sweet dream of every breast, 
 Young hope, thro' ages of thy land's unrest ! 
 The long'd-for summons has gone forth, yet fain 
 Am I to see thee, bless thee once again. 
 Scarce Death itself the old man's prayer shall quell. 
 My country's glory, oh ! farewell — farewell ! "
 
 CANTO XII.] THE BATTLE. 375 
 
 His last look brighten'd on Prometheus' child, 
 His dying glance on Indra beam'd and smil'd, 
 His dying lips proclaim'd Heaven's high behest, 
 Prometheus' Land and peerless Daughter blest ! 
 
 END OF CANTO XII.
 
 377 
 
 d^nduBicn. 
 
 Light of my lonely heart ! — ah ! whither fled, 
 My golden Sunbeam ? Night broods deep around : 
 My harp-notes tremble mid the silence dread — 
 They wake dire phantoms with their bodeful sound. 
 
 Thine ear they have not found : 
 Thine, for whose sake was fram'd the votive lay, 
 
 Whose praise perchance had bound 
 Thy lover's temples with the proudest bay. — 
 Star of my desolate night! what murk cloud hides thy 
 
 ray?
 
 378 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Fondly I'd hoped, with laurels hardly won, 
 To build my Bride a fair, unfading bower. 
 Alas ! those wreaths, uncull'd, if e'er mine own, 
 Can now but serve her timeless grave to dower. 
 Then, wither — wither, bay and myrtle flower ! 
 That brow is low ye should have twin'd around : 
 Still'd the sweet heart could once have felt your 
 
 power ; — 
 The senseless marble only can be crown'd. 
 Wither, and rustling strew the bleak cold funeral ground !
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, page 15. 
 
 Can ever (more than senseless matter) prove 
 CurVd in duration. 
 
 So far greater in dignity and importance than the body did the 
 soul appear to some of the ancient philosophers, that, dazzled by 
 the consideration, they discredited the very existence of matter, 
 accounting as delusion the evidence of the senses, and regarding 
 mortal life as a peculiar trance of the soul. This, even now, is the 
 doctrine of the Hindoo philosopher. With all its folly, it is surely 
 more rational, more accordant with the experience of an intelligent 
 being, than any material system that has boasted proselytes. Matter, 
 even so far as we can trace it, is susceptible of an infinity of combina- 
 tions, altering its character from gaseous to fluid ; from fluid to solid ; 
 from opacpie to transparent; from metal to earth; from earth to 
 metal. Analogy warrants the supposition that the whole mass of 
 our earth may be susceptible of transition to a gaseous form ; — yea, to 
 a gas so subtle as to be manifest to none of our senses. But no 
 experiment justifies the supposition that any particle of it could, by 
 the action of any known or natural agent, cease to exist. If, then, our 
 baser portion — our material body — be incapable (so far as we know) of
 
 382 NOTES. 
 
 annihilation, who shall doubt the indestructibility of the soul ? If 
 such a doubt arise, it is in defiance of all analogy, and is not, there- 
 fore, reason, but a diseased effort of the mind to resist that reason 
 which tends to faith, confidence, and peace. 
 
 Note 2, page 27. 
 / heard the mighty Mountain's distant groan. 
 
 The following is from Stewart's Sketches of the Highlanders : — 
 " Previous to a tempest, some of the mountains of the Highlands 
 emit a loud hollow noise, like the roar of distant thunder : and 
 the louder this noise, the more furious will be the tempest, which 
 it generally precedes from twelve to twenty-four hours. From this 
 warning, when ' the spirit of the mountain shrieks,' the superstitious 
 Highlanders presage many omens. Beindouran, in Glenorchy, near 
 the confines of Perth and Argyle, emits this noise in the most striking 
 manner. It is remarkable, that it is emitted only during storms of 
 wind and rain. Before a fall of snow, however furious the tempest, 
 the mountain (which is of a conical form and 3,500 feet high) is silent. 
 In the same mamier several of the great waterfalls of the Highland 
 rivers and streams give signals of approaching tempests and of heavy 
 falls of rain. Twenty or thirty hours previous to a storm, the great 
 falls of the River Tummel, north of Shichallian, emit a loud noise, 
 which is heard to the distance of several miles. The longer the 
 course of the preceding dry weather, the louder and more similar to 
 a continuous roll of distant thunder is the noise. Consequently, it 
 is louder in summer than in winter. When the rain commences, the 
 noise ceases. It forms an unerring barometer to neighbouring farmers. 
 Why mountains and waterfalls in serene, dry weather emit such 
 remarkable sounds, and are silent in tempests and rains, might form 
 an interesting subject of physical inquiry." — Vol. i. p. 88, note.
 
 NOTES. 383 
 
 Pilgrim, an Indian traveller, in his wanderings in the Himalaya, 
 says: "During the two nights I rested at Kedar Nath (one of the 
 sources of the Ganges), I was frequently awoke by rumbling sounds, 
 like the report of very loud but distant thunder, although the entire 
 firmament was cloudless. When I was residing a few days at Chini, in 
 Kunnawur, I remarked the same phenomenon, which was of almost 
 hourly occurrence in the magnificent pile of snowy mountains over- 
 hanging the Sutlej at that place. There, as well as at Kedar Nath, 
 the noises were ascribed to the anger of the gods. In the Eocky 
 Mountains of North America, it is attributed by the poor Indians to 
 the thunders of the guardian genii over hidden treasure." 
 
 After mentioning that his first theory of these sounds ascribed 
 them to the disruption of avalanches, he states that he has been led 
 by comparison of the phenomena to attribute them rather to sub- 
 terranean explosions, and to believe that the interior of the mountain 
 is a hidden crater. 
 
 Pilgrim does not observe that these sounds in the Himalaya are 
 followed by tempest. And, indeed, I imagine the sounds heard by 
 him are of a class distinct from those mentioned by Stewart. But 
 I prefer the theory of avalanches and disjected rocks to that of 
 subterraneous explosions. There is no doubt that amid such a 
 chaos of mountain peak and snow-clad precipice some disruption is 
 occurring every hour during the summer months. Such disruptions, 
 happening at the head of a glen or chasm, would be multiplied like 
 the sound of the human breath in a trumpet, and would be carried 
 to as great a distance as those mountain walls might extend in a 
 tolerably direct line. That these are oftener heard by night than 
 by day is attributable to the greater stillness of the air, and the 
 greater attention of the senses, during the night season. But the 
 fall of a mass of ice or of rock is perhaps as frequently the effect 
 of recongelation as of thaw. Water in the act of congelation expands 
 with enormous power, sufficient when confined to overthrow the 
 poise of very large masses.
 
 384 NOTES. 
 
 As for the sounds described by Stewart, that emitted by the 
 mountain and that of the waterfall, they seem to me deducible from 
 two distinct causes. Previous to a tempest, there is often a hush 
 of the atmosphere, which enables very distant sounds to reach the 
 ear : and the roar of a waterfall, at other times unheard, will then 
 be audible. 
 
 But the sound from a mountain peak requires some additional 
 explanation, for the sound must be generated ere it can be com- 
 municated. Now an important cause of the limited range of sound 
 is the convexity and roughness of the earth's surface ; sound travelling 
 in rifht lines, unless it meet with some smooth conducting surface. 
 
 Suppose, then, the curve s s to represent the earth's surface, and 
 that a thunderstorm is active at a, about 100 miles from d. The 
 distant thimder might perhaps be heard at b ; but much more dis- 
 tinctly at the summit c of the mountain Beindouran. But at d, it 
 would be quite mute, even supposing no mountain to intervene; 
 because the sound would pass in a right line to x, hundreds of yards 
 above d. But the thunder peal striking the hollow side of the 
 mountain peak at c, is there collected, and again dispersed in radia- 
 tions both above and below, and in the stillness preceding a storm is 
 distinctlv audible at d, appearing to proceed from the mountain itself. 
 
 To be heard with best effect, the storm, the mountain summit, and 
 the hearer should not be placed in the same line. Indeed, this 
 could seldom long be the case, as the thunder-storm generally covers 
 many square miles of the earth's surface. 
 
 Snow, if I recollect right, after the lapse of so many years, is seldom 
 ushered in by thunder. And thunder is never known without a
 
 NOTES. 385 
 
 fall of rain from the cloud Avhich utters it. Thunder-storms are 
 generally most violent after long dryness of the atmosphere, when 
 the electric fluid is isolated, and not carried off as fast as it accumu- 
 lates, or is released, by watery particles in the air. And thus the 
 sounds emitted or transmitted by mountains in Scotland are mute 
 previous to snow-storms, and most remarkable when a heavy storm 
 succeeds long dryness of atmosphere. 
 
 Note 3, page 48. 
 The aivestruck peasant views that mighty form. 
 
 The following quotation is from Sir Robert Porter's Travels in 
 Persia : — " Heathen traditions and classical writers affirm that Elbo- 
 rus was the huge and savage rock of Caucasus to which Prometheus 
 was chained ; and who but JEschylus has drawn the picture ? There 
 is still a tradition amongst the natives who reside in the valleys of 
 Elborus that the bones of an enormous giant exposed there by 
 Divine wrath are yet to be seen on its smaller summit. Indeed 
 the story is so much matter of belief to the rude tribes of that 
 quarter, that people are to be found who will swear to have seen the 
 huge remains. 
 
 " Marvellous as the story is, it seemed so well attested that some 
 time ago a Russian general officer thought he might make it the 
 ground for penetrating farther into the mountains, and accordingly 
 set forth, I am told, on his expedition, with a party of 200 men and 
 a fight field-piece, to ascertain the truth of so extraordinary a tale. 
 However, the moment was not yet arrived for an European eye to 
 behold this dead colossus ; for scarcely had he penetrated any distance 
 into the recesses of the mountain, when a tremendous avalanche rolled 
 in fury down its side, and overwhelmed the Avhole party, excepting 
 its leader and one or two soldiers. There was now no doubt among 
 
 25
 
 386 NOTES. 
 
 the natives, that the intention of the expedition was to give charitable 
 sepulture to the unburied corse, and that the accident happened 
 in consequence of the vengeance of the Spirits of the Mountain, who 
 had the mysterious relics in charge; thus to show that the doom 
 of remaining to bleach for ever upon that unsheltered rock should 
 not be reversed."— Vol i. p. 129, 4to edition. 
 
 Note 4, page 54. 
 Beaconing thine awful crest, proud peak of Demawend. 
 
 The principal summit of that range of mountains which, stretching 
 along the southern coast of the Caspian, is acknowledged as an inferior 
 chain of Caucasus, is called Demawend. The su mmi t never loses 
 its snow. It is supposed to be haunted by a gigantic spectre : a 
 tradition very common in Persia, and attaching especially to the 
 chief summit of the main Caucasus, called Elboorz (Elburus). To 
 those who have resided near mountains, it were needless to observe 
 that their apparent approach is indicative of a storm. I have often 
 used, to advantage, this barometer. 
 
 Note 5, page 69. 
 
 When at Elborus' 1 base the pilgrim stood. 
 
 The mountains of Caucasus are called by the Persians Kauf, but 
 sometimes Elborus, and the principal summit bears the latter name. 
 Elborus, therefore, has the grave accent upon the second syllable, hke 
 Pilbrus. The second, in height, of the summits is called Kazibek. 
 These belong to the main range of Caucasus, overlooking the Euxine. 
 The third summit in celebrity, and probably in height, is Demawend, 
 south of the Caspian, in the subordinate range of Caucasus. The summit
 
 NOTES. 
 
 387 
 
 to which Prometheus is traditionally reported to have been chained 
 is Elbbrus, overlooking the Euxine. It has two summits, and the 
 lesser is said still to retain the gigantic skeleton. It is believed to 
 be 18,000 feet above the sea's level. The base of Elborus is said to 
 be isolated by marshes. The latitude of Elborus (the peak) is said 
 to be 43° N., its longitude 43° 15' E. The snow on the summit is 
 perennial. 
 
 Shelley, in his Prometheus, fixes the summit on which he was 
 tortured in the Indian Caucasus. This is contrary to Greek tradition, 
 and was adopted by Shelley probably for the sake of poetic embel- 
 lishment. It is, however, remarkable that traditions should exist to 
 this day in the Sohant valley, at the southern foot of the Hindoo 
 Koosh, or Indian Caucasus, supporting the licence of Shelley, by 
 making that valley the abode of the Titans, the ruins of whose cities 
 still exist, bearing the Titans' names. Although, however, there is 
 no doubt that the Indian word Dyta is identical with the Greek word 
 TiTav (Titan), yet the Indian and Greek names of Titans do not 
 
 Greek Titans. 
 
 Latin. 
 
 Indian Dytes. 
 
 Uperioon 
 
 Sol 
 
 
 Kronos 
 
 Saturnius ... 
 
 Sthool Dyte. 
 
 Okeanos, or ) 
 Amphitrite J 
 
 — 
 
 Kahun Dyte. 
 
 Iapetos 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 Kottos 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 Briareos 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 Orion 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 Atlas 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 Epimetheus ... 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 Menoetius 
 
 — 
 
 Monama Dyte. 
 
 Titan 
 
 
 Kiri Clink, a semi-Titan 
 by a human mother. 
 
 25-
 
 388 NOTES. 
 
 Sthool Dyte, quasi Saturnius, may have given the Romans their 
 name for Kronos. 
 
 The valley of Sohant is highly classical ground to Sanscrit scholars. 
 Not only did the Titans reign here, building cities, whose ruins 
 remain with names unaltered ; but hither also retired the five Pandoo 
 Brothers and the Wife they shared between them — the beautiful 
 Diroopdi — and took service under Raja Viraht, the ruins of whose 
 palaces and stables are shown to this day. When Alexander the 
 Great visited Sohant, he or his officers* were shown the cavern in 
 which Prometheus had been chained to feast the eagles. This is 
 probably the large and remarkable cavern yet existing at an old site 
 called after one of the Titans (St'hool Dyte) Dyte Kulli, or Titan's 
 Fort. This valley is at present closed against research by the jealousy 
 and hostility of the independent Pathans who occupy it, and who 
 were undoubtedly there when the Macedonians invaded it, as is 
 evinced by their bearing the same names. But their own want of 
 such a government as can punish marauders of their own tribe must 
 some day open to us this valley, which Ukhbur's armies invaded 
 without success. It is the most interesting spot, to an antiquary, in 
 Eastern Asia. 
 
 * Strabo says of the Macedonians (lib. v. p. 688) : " 'ISovteq (nri]Xatov 
 lv toiq TlapoTraj.u(j(jdoiiQ upuv, Tovrq) yap tvtSeiXaTO Yipofxi]8kdiQ Stafiwrripiov' 
 /cat SeSpo cKplyfttvov rbv Hpa/cAj/a im tt\v tkivSkpuaiv rov UpOfirjBkbjg." 
 — " Seeing a sacred cavern in the Paropamisas, they said Prometheus had 
 been imprisoned there, and that Hercules had come thither to release Pro- 
 metheus." Strabo very naturally supposed this to be an invention of 
 Alexander's flatterers. But there is no doubt that the tradition existed in 
 Alexander's day ; and I believe that the more our knowledge increases, the 
 more truthful will the Greek historians appear — that is, that they did not 
 wilfully deceive, though they may sometimes receive fables as truth.
 
 NOTES. 389 
 
 Note 6, page 70. 
 
 And now from Kazibetis twin peak of dread. 
 
 Mount Kazibek is the second in altitude of the summits of the 
 Caucasus. Messrs. Englehardt and Parrot ascended to near the sum- 
 mit. The natives of the country hold it in superstitious reverence, 
 calling it " Christe Zup," or the Hill of Christ, believing that the 
 Virgin Mary dwelt there, and that a Roc still watches over the cradle 
 of the infant Jesus. The guide pointed to a cross and monastery, in 
 which he assured them the cradle lies, but refused to conduct the 
 travellers farther. Dr. Parrot, however, reached the cross, which he 
 found to be of porphyry, fixed upon a rocky mass of the porphyritic 
 cliff. Near it was a low circidar wall of loose stones, a considerable 
 cairn of stones, and a rude pillar of porphyry. The monastery, as it 
 is called, is a grotto excavated in the cliff, about 900 feet above the 
 cross, and quite inaccessible from beneath. The portal of the cavern 
 is in the midst of a space cleared with the chisel in the cliff. It is 
 partly enclosed by two slabs of stone, resembling folding-doors. 
 These are supported on each side by pillars, which, as well as the 
 doors, glister like mica. This rock is at least 3,000 feet above the 
 limit of perpetual congelation. Its height is 12,018 feet above the 
 Euxine ; and Dr. Parrot, although he coidd not reach the mountain 
 summit, reckons it at 14,400 feet. 
 
 Note 1, page 78. 
 In whose compare hoar Saturn's ancient sway. 
 
 Old as may seem to us the reign of Saturn, the ancients went 
 farther back in their theology, and deifying Chaos, Matter, the
 
 390 NOTES. 
 
 Heavens, and the Earth, established gods whose origin was lost in 
 eternity; but whose power was decayed, whose worship well nigh 
 forgotten. Of these are Coelus, Terra, Chaos, Night, &c. 
 
 Note 8, page 80. 
 
 While shapeless rocks to fair proportions grown 
 Round Ilium bind tK insuperable zone. 
 
 Apollo assisted Neptune in building the walls of Troy, and, as 
 twanging the lute was easier than shouldering the hod, it may be 
 supposed that it was preferred by Apollo to reduce the stones to 
 order. 
 
 The wall of Troy was never overcome. Treachery did what 
 might could not effect. One of the surest evidences of the antiquity 
 of the Iliad is in the ignorance it betrays of even the rudest arts 
 of attacking fortified places. Neither battering-ram, nor catapult, 
 nor moving tower, nor secret mine, nor wall of circumvallation, seem 
 then to have been known. 
 
 Note 9, page 86. 
 Tlie bird of Jove, dim wheeling thro'' the shy. 
 
 There is, I believe, more than one instance on record of the shouts 
 of a multitude stunning birds as they flew overhead. They suit, 
 however, the page of the poet better than that of the historian. 
 They were credited, nevertheless, by Plutarch, who, in his " Life of 
 Pompey" says, speaking of the Roman people when Roscius had 
 proposed to them to give Pompey a colleague : — 
 
 " Incensed at the proposal, they set up such a shout, that a crow
 
 NOTES. 391 
 
 which was flying over the Forum was stunned by the force of it, and 
 fell down among the crowd. Hence we may conclude that when 
 birds fall on such occasions, it is not because the air is so divided with 
 the shock as to leave a vacuum, but rather because the sound strikes 
 them like a blow when it ascends with such force and produces so 
 violent an agitation." — Langhorne's Translation. 
 
 If it really has occurred, it has been produced by syncope, the 
 effect of sudden terror. 
 
 Note 10, page 121. 
 " TJie Mount, the Sea of Light'''' 
 
 KOH-I-NOOB AND DeRRIAU-I-NOOR. 
 
 When this note was first written the Koh-i-noor was known in 
 Europe only by the description of travellers. It has since been exhi- 
 bited to public gaze in London. Its sister, the Derriau-i-Noor, or 
 Sea of Light, still belongs to the King of Persia. It is uncut, and is 
 described as nearly hemispherical, or forming three parts of a sphere ; 
 its natural crust being partly or entirely polished off. It hung ever 
 over the pillow of the late king, Fulleh Ali Shah, that his eyes might 
 fall upon it first in waking. It was also the last mortal object which 
 he gazed upon. It seems to contain about the same substance as the 
 Koh-i-noor, though differing from it in shape. The latter, as a table 
 diamond, weighed one ounce and two-fifths. But it then had no 
 lustre, and it was difficult to believe it to be anything better than 
 rock crystal, and much substance must have been lost in making it a 
 brilliant.
 
 392 NOTES. 
 
 Note 11, page 122. 
 
 Which of their golden fruit despoWd the trees 
 And gem-dropt fountains of tK Hesperides. 
 
 This exploit is attributed to Hercules. What a world of conjec- 
 ture has been built upon the ancient traditions relating to the 
 Hesperides. There can be little doubt that they were nothing more 
 than the oases of the Great Desert, which produce the finest dates in 
 the world, and little else. These not being the fruit of Europe, and 
 abounding in saccharine matter, before the general use of the sugar- 
 cane, when honey and date sugar were the chief substitutes, woidd have 
 been regarded with peculiar interest by the men of ancient Greece ; 
 whilst the inaccessibility of the oases would have given birth to all 
 the exaggeration of fable. To this day, the date and the raisin supply 
 Afghanistan with its native sugar, which is even extracted from the 
 water-melon. 
 
 Note 12, page 142. 
 TJie Scythian spurrd his wild, deep-chested steed. 
 
 Scythia is a name applying to all Tartary, and a large portion of 
 what at present is Russia. The Scythian best known to the Greeks 
 was the Kuzzauk (Cossack), who was then probably lord of all the 
 steppe, as far as the Sea of Aral, which, indeed, is his present habitat ; 
 although he is tributary to the governments of Russia and of Khiva. 
 The Parthian or Toorcumun seems to have held his present locality 
 in the steppe intervening between Persia [and the Caspian and the 
 river Oxus. The horse of the Cossack is a sturdy galloway. That 
 of the Toorcumun, the Oozbeg, and the Mogul, is the largest, and one 
 of the finest breeds in Asia. Its great size and strength make it very 
 valuable as a war-horse ; and its powers of endurance are severely
 
 NOTES. 393 
 
 taxed by the Toorcmnun in the predatory life he leads — for he must 
 often ride a hundred miles without drawing rein. I do not mean 
 that he gallops, or even canters, such distances; but the horse is 
 heavily laden with its own and its master's food for several days — its 
 own and its master's water and clothing — and has often to carry a 
 captive in addition. 
 
 Note 13, page 169. 
 And Genii haunt each vasty chasm there. 
 
 Kawf, the Caucasus of the ancients, is, according to the Arabs, 
 Persians, and Toorks, the especial residence of Djins, Peris, Ufreets, 
 and other supernatural beings. It is here that Jooj and Majooj (Gog 
 and Magog) and their gigantic host were imprisoned under the seal 
 of Solomon ; — the walls of Durbund, connecting the Caucasus with 
 the Caspian, and built to prevent the inroads of the Scythians, having 
 apparently led to the fable. So many wonders, however, have been 
 invented and hoarded up regarding the Kawf, that the human mind 
 is no longer contented with a material mountain under that title, but 
 expects a prodigy, which exists no one knows where towards the 
 rising sun. 
 
 JEschylus places the Caucasus upon the remotest confines of Scythia, 
 while it is south-eastward of that region. 
 
 Note 14, page 186. 
 
 But thro' Earth's centre plunging to those seas 
 And isles where roam tK unblest Antipodes. 
 
 Were a tunnel perforated through the earth's centre to our anti- 
 podes, and were a heavy weight cast into it, it would not stop until
 
 394 NOTES. 
 
 it had almost reached the antipodes. There, its velocity being 
 balanced gradually by the central attraction, it would pause, and 
 gradually fall back to the centre, increasing in velocity until the 
 centre were passed, and then, with ever abating speed, rushing almost 
 to the point of outset. Thus woidd it vibrate to and fro between the 
 antipodes, the length of the vibrations ever decreasing, until by degrees 
 it settled in the earth's centre. 
 
 When first the sphericity of the earth was established by philo- 
 sophy, many wild speculations arose amongst the ignorant regarding 
 the antipodes, who were supposed to walk on their heads. 
 
 Note 15, page 221. 
 
 and like that fiend which haunts the crest 
 Of precipice, the fatal plunge suggest. 
 
 That desperate impidse which tempts the unpractised to leap head- 
 long down a precipice, and to which, under peculiar circumstances, 
 the steadiest brains may be liable, is supposed by barbarous nations to 
 be the suggestion of a demon haunting the precipice's verge. It 
 seems in reality to be a momentary distrust of the power of volition 
 at the instant that the sense of danger rushes upon the mind. The 
 horror of falling from such a dizzy height is too sensible. The will, 
 which every hour of our lives preserves us from peril, is forgotten for 
 the moment. We have used its force mechanically, without reflecting 
 upon it, or troubling our heads to consider its nature or origin. It is 
 an invisible power. The demand for its aid is frightfully visible, and 
 we distrust that aid. In the confusion of our senses we mistake the 
 dread of falling for the impulse to throw ourselves down. 
 
 This singular sensation is not confined to the brinks of precipices. 
 It may be felt by the imaginative when the nerves are disordered, by
 
 NOTES. 395 
 
 weakness of the stomach, under every circumstance, moral and 
 physical, with which dread intermingles ; and many of the bravest 
 have been tormented by mistaking the dread of cowardice for the 
 weakness itself; whilst the dread of being suspected of crime has 
 made many of the purest-minded appear guilty. 
 
 In all such confusions of the mind, arising from nervous exhaustion, 
 it seems wiser to shun than to combat the suggestion— to forget, than 
 to argue with it — to will that it shall not be, than to prove that it 
 ought not to exist. 
 
 Note 16, page 234. 
 
 The moss-wreaths drooping from the -pine-branch high. 
 
 In Alpine countries the lichens which overrun forest-trees often 
 hang in festoons from the branches. In the mountains of Nepaul 
 not only is the whole tree swathed in drooping moss, but long 
 streamers of a white, parasitical plant hang here and there from the 
 extremities of the branches, to the length of from six to twelve feet, 
 like veils of the most delicate white gauze. Several varieties of fern 
 also find root in the bark of the oak or pine, affording in their bright 
 metallic green a vivid contrast with the almost sable velvet of the 
 mosses. 
 
 Note 17, page 251. 
 
 . from the hills 
 Of Bankoo, rife of thousand fiery rills. 
 
 Bankoo, on the western coast of the Caspian, is still celebrated for 
 its inflammable gases, which gush from every incision made into a
 
 396 NOTES. 
 
 particular circle of the hill. It is a spot much venerated by fire-wor- 
 shippers (Ghubbees), and even by Hindoos, especially of the Punjaub, 
 many of whom still retain the worship of fire, and resort to Bankoo 
 as to a shrine. 
 
 Note 18, page 308. 
 
 Had Jooj, Majooj, outburst from prison den 
 For their last triumph o'er the sons of Men ? 
 
 Jooj and Majooj are rendered by us Gog and Magog, and we pro- 
 bably owe our knowledge of the names to the Crusaders. The Koran, 
 which was compiled by the son of a Jewess, retains many of the 
 traditions of the Jews ; and among them is numbered the great field 
 Armageddon, when Jooj, Majooj, are to burst their prison caves 
 in the Caucasus, and to threaten extermination to believers ; which 
 event is to usher in the Messiah as their conqueror. 
 
 Note 19, page 312. 
 And chas'd the thistle with the desert wind. 
 
 For an account of the gigantic thistle, in size a tree, growing upon 
 the steppes north-east of the Caspian, see Kohl's most interesting 
 account of Southern Russia. These thistles, when dry, are easily 
 uprooted, and borne along by the strength of the wind with extra- 
 ordinary speed, presentmg a spectacle peculiar to those steppes.
 
 NOTES. 397 
 
 Note 20, page 313. 
 The hide of steed for mantle round them spread. 
 
 The Kuzzauks (Cossacks), the least civilized of the Tartar tribes, 
 were those best known to the ancients, as Skuthoi, or Scythians. The 
 derivation of the name we cannot even conjecture. 
 
 The Kussauk, even to this day, has no dress but the hides, half- 
 tanned, of his cattle. A little linen here and there finds its way from 
 nations bordering upon his steppes, but this is appropriated by the 
 women, who often have none. The use of bread in any form, of 
 vegetables, or of fruit, is utterly unknown. It is probable that the 
 Oozbegs, Kulmauks, and Moguls, were equally uncivilized some 
 hundreds of years ago, though, froHi settling in towns and villages, 
 they have since learned many of the arts of civilized life. The 
 Kuzzauk claims a common origin with the Toorcumun, who is appa- 
 rently the Parthian of antiquity. They are, however, very dissimilar 
 in feature and character. 
 
 Note 21, page 315. 
 Drooping ivith oxtails from Tibetan mountains. 
 
 The yok, or Tibetan ox, is of dwarf dimensions, covered with 
 shaggy hair like a bear. The tail is bushy, like a horse's, but is com- 
 posed of hair of extreme delicacy, and of the purest white. This is 
 the celebrated chovvry. Its principal use is as a fly-flap, for which 
 the delicacy of its hair especially fits it. Horsehair is apt to wound 
 the eye. It is set in handles of beaten silver or gold, richly wrought, 
 and no man of rank sits without two attendants armed with such 
 chowries.
 
 398 NOTES. 
 
 Officers of rank wear the oxtail at their saddles — a custom 
 originating probably with the Tartar conquerors of Asia in the bleak 
 steppes from which they came, but introduced by them into India as 
 well as Turkey. The spears of noblemen are bearded with chowries 
 instead of banners. The chowry can be purchased at from 4s. to 51. 
 each. The ox which furnishes it has, in addition to his long shaggy 
 hair, an undergrowth of Pushm, or shawl-wool, with which Nature 
 furnishes most animals in that region of deadly wind. 
 
 Note 22, page 315. 
 His strong, tough bote of horn beside him lay. 
 
 The bow of China is formed of two curved rods of buffalo horn 
 firmly united at the grasp. When relaxed, it does not become straight, 
 like a bow of Europe, but bends back into a rapid curve the reverse 
 of that which it assumes when strung. When strung it resembles the 
 bow with which painters arm Cupid. It is of two degrees of strength. 
 The stronger cannot be drawn with the arms alone. The bowman 
 lies upon his back, and turns the soles of his feet toward the mark ; 
 he places the soles of his feet against the grasp of the bow, where are 
 loops to prevent them from slipping ; the arrow, four feet in length, 
 and headed with an ounce of lead, is then adjusted, and is drawn with 
 both hands to the archer's breast, and thence released. The force is 
 said to be very great, but the range I do not remember. The 
 smaller bow is drawn as in Europe, excepting that the arrow is not 
 drawn to the right ear, but to the chest, which is no doubt the reason 
 why the Amazons, a Tartar race, extirpated the right pap, which 
 otherwise must have been bruised by the hand in its recoil. This bow 
 has been introduced into India and Persia by the Moguls, but in a 
 modified form. At present, small strips of buffalo-horn are taken as
 
 NOTES. 399 
 
 the springy portion of the bow, and are firmly lashed upon a grasp of 
 wood or centre, with thongs of the fresh entrail of the sheep dipped 
 into boiling glue. Two sticks of mulberry wood are, in like manner, 
 lashed on to the extremities of the horns, and into these notches are 
 cut for the bowstring; the whole is then completely cased in a 
 swathing of entrail dipped in glue, and is varnished over with coloured 
 copal varnish. 
 
 Rudely as these bows are, generally constructed by the most clumsy 
 workmen, they often possess a power which will enable them to vie 
 with the long bow of England. And there is no doubt that such a 
 bow, constructed by a skilful English bowman, might prove an admi- 
 rable weapon, especially for horsemen, its length being little more 
 than half that of an English bow. To this bow reed arrows are used, 
 which it will send 220 yards. Its chief enemy is the excessive damp 
 of the Indian rainy season, which softens the glue, and often causes 
 the bow to w T arp. 
 
 That horn was the material of the bow of ancient Greece we have 
 abundant evidence in the Iliad and Odyssey. The horn of the 
 mountain goat seems to have been preferred. This was, perhaps, the 
 Ibex, for the common mountain goat has a spiral horn. Homer thus 
 describes the bow of Pandarus : — 
 
 u Autik tav\a to^ov tv^oov, 'i^aXov alybq 
 "Aypiov, ov pa -kot abroc utto artpvoio Tv\l}(yac, 
 HsTprjQ tK^aivovra ciCfyjikvog tv TrpoSoKi)(Ti 
 BifiXtKtl 7Tpi)Q (TT)j30Q' o c' vtttioq ifnrtoE irtTpy. 
 Toy Ktpci Ik KKfxiXijg tKKaictKa (uipa w£<pvKEi. 
 Kai tu fisv a<TK))(jac Kipaot,ooQ i'/pape tzktuiv. 
 Hav Civ \tiyvac, ^ODirfjjov tirtJi]KE KOpwvijv." 
 
 " Instantly he stripped his polished bow, of the bounding wild goat, 
 which he on a time had reached upon his belly, as descending from a 
 rock it fell into his ambush ; he wounded it in the breast, and it fell 
 upon its back from the rock. The horns of its head grew to sixteen
 
 400 NOTES. 
 
 palms (64 inches), and them the horn artificer shaping adapted 
 (together), and planing them throughout fitted golden tips." 
 
 It is manifest that this bow was made throughout of horn, excepting 
 of course the grasp and the tips, being similar to the Chinese bow of 
 the present day, excepting that the horn of the buffalo is used in 
 China as in India. 
 
 Note 23, page 317. 
 The Jiglia blaz'd like beacon o'er the wold. 
 
 In the Scythian kingdom of Khaurism, this is the sole symbol of 
 royalty. It is intended to represent a cypress bent by the wind, and 
 is formed of precious gems. It is the pattern so common upon Cash- 
 mere shawls ; but so little like a cypress, as probably never to have 
 been recognized as such by any European eye. It forms one of many 
 state jewels in India and Persia, where probably the Moguls introduced 
 it. It is worn on the turban or cap in front. 
 
 Note 24, page 318. 
 
 Wliat answer gives the Yem's uncultured lord ? 
 
 The Yem Djem, or Emba, forms at present the northern boun- 
 dary of Khaurism and the southern boundary of Eussia. At least 
 down to the Yem the influence of Eussia over the Kuzzauks of that 
 Steppe is greater than that of Khiva, although the tribes claim inde- 
 pendence.
 
 NOTES. 401 
 
 Note 25, page 318. 
 The black Kulpauk. 
 
 The Kara Kulpauk, or Black-hatted, are a tribe of Oozbegs, dwell- 
 ing at present at Ghoonguraut, south of the Sea of Aral. The words 
 Kara, black ; Auk, white ; Yuhohi, good ; and Yummun, bad — are 
 of great significance among a people of shepherds, who have few 
 words and fewer ideas. In this tribe a singular custom at present 
 prevails. When a stranger approaches, the young women of the 
 tribe challenge him to wrestle. The conqueror has, for the time, 
 complete power over the person of the conquered. It is said that the 
 women are rarely thrown, and that they cruelly abuse their advantage 
 when conquerors. This report, whatever its truth, is generally 
 believed in that country. 
 
 Note 26, page 322. 
 And leave waste sites for cities that rebel. 
 
 The desolation occasioned by Chungiz Khaun and Timoor in 
 Central Asia, by the wholesale slaughter of both sexes and of all ages, 
 in cold blood, without pretext or provocation, is scarcely to be credited 
 by any who has not actually visited the once populous countries 
 which those monsters reduced to the condition of deserts. To cut the 
 throats of 50,000 men, women, and children, in cold blood, after their 
 surrender on promise of mercy, was an ordinary act of Chungiz. 
 Centuries have since elapsed, but the countries he desolated have 
 never recovered. 
 
 26
 
 402 NOTES. 
 
 Note 27, page 330. 
 
 Ay, when bereft of sight he turrHd on thee 
 His darkened orbs, they sudden power regain'd ; 
 Thy beauty set his prisoned vision free. 
 
 When, by the treachery of (Enopion, Orion's eyes had been 
 deprived of sight, Orion ascertained by inquiry the aspect of the east 
 and the hour dawn, and turning his sightless orbs to the spot where 
 his beloved was rising, her beauty restored his lost sight. 
 
 Note 28, page 335. 
 And mingling dark Hyrcania's living sea. 
 
 Although Herodotus had early recorded that the Caspian is a lake, 
 dissevered from the ocean, succeeding generations took up the belief 
 that it is a gulf of the Indian Sea, and it was for a thousand years 
 known as the Hyrcanian Gulf. Even Alexander, who had passed 
 between it and the Indian Ocean, strangely persisted in thinking it a 
 gulf of that flood. 
 
 Note 29, page 337. 
 
 Not so ; — more deathful in retreat than fight, 
 Each as he turns hath drawn a bow of might. 
 
 The Toorcumun, who is probably the descendant, and certainly the 
 successor, of the Parthian, differs from the latter very little in man- 
 ners and habits. He has exchanged the bow for the matchlock, which 
 has gone far to abate his terrors as an enemy. For his poverty, and
 
 NOTES. 403 
 
 the backwardness of the country in the arts, causes him to be 
 ill- armed in comparison with his neighbours, and he cannot afford 
 to expend in the practice of the matchlock enough gunpowder to 
 become an expert marksman ; whereas his forefathers, by constant 
 practice with the bow, rivalled all their neighbours. The Toorcu- 
 mun is a bad shot, and is chiefly formidable by the great endurance 
 of his horse, which enables him to make astonishing marches and 
 unexpected attacks, and to cut off supplies, where their loss is 
 destruction. 
 
 THE END.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY SMITH, ELDER AND CO.. 
 
 LITTLE GREEN ARBOUR COURT, OLD BAILEY, EX.
 
 65, Cornhill, London, 
 March, 1861. 
 
 NEW AND STANDARD WORKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BT 
 
 SMITH, ELDEB AND CO. 
 
 IN THE PRESS. 
 
 Framley Parsonage. 
 By Anthony Trollope, 
 
 Author of " Barchester Towers," &c. Illustrated by J. E. Millais, R.A. 
 Three Vols. Post 8vo. Price 21s., cloth. {Just Ready.) 
 
 Household Medicine ; 
 
 Describing Diseases, their Nature, Causes, and Symptoms, 
 with the most approved Methods of Treatment, the Pro- 
 perties and Uses of Remedies. 
 
 By John Gardner, M.D. 
 
 8vo, with numerous Illustrations. 
 
 Japan, the Amoor and the Pacific. 
 
 A Voyage of Circumnavigation in the Imperial Rnssian 
 
 Corvette " Rynda," in 1858-59-60. 
 
 By Henry Arthur Tilley. 
 
 8vo. With illustrations. 
 
 Ragged London. 
 
 By John Hollingshead. In One Vol. 
 
 The Book of Good Counsels : 
 
 Being an Abridged Translation of the Sanscrit Classic, the 
 
 " Hitopadesa." 
 
 By Edwin Arnold, MA., Oxon. 
 Author of " Education in India," &c. With Illustrations by Harrison Weir. 
 
 Crown 8vo.
 
 Philo- Socrates. 
 
 Part I. " Among the Boys." 
 By William Ellis. 
 
 Price Is. (Just Ready.) 
 
 The History of England ; 
 
 From the Earliest Period to the Death of William the 
 
 Conqueror. 
 By J. A. St. John, Esq. 
 
 In Two Vols. 8vo. 
 
 %* The author has availed himself of the valuable information on important 
 points of English History afforded by the chronicles published by direction 
 of the Master of the Rolls. 
 
 Life of Mahomet. 
 
 By William Muir. 
 Vols. m. and IV. 
 
 A New Novel. 
 
 By the Author of " Cousin Stella." 
 In Three Vols. 
 
 JUST PUBLISHED. 
 
 The Tragedy of Life. 
 
 By John H. Brenten. 
 In Two Vols. 
 
 Education in Oxford : 
 
 Its Method, its Aids, and its Re- 
 wards. 
 By .Tames E. Thorold Rogers, M.A . 
 Post 8vo, price 6s. cloth. 
 *c~ 
 
 Agnes Tremorne. 
 
 By I. Blagden. 
 
 In Two Vols. ( Now Ready.) 
 
 Scripture Lands in con- 
 nection with their History: 
 
 With an Appendix : and Extracts 
 from a Journal kept during an 
 Eastern Tour in 1856-57. 
 
 By the Rev. G. S. Drew, 
 
 Author of " Scripture Studies," &c. 
 
 Post 8vo, with a Map, price 10s. Gd. 
 
 cloth. 
 
 The Conduct of Life. 
 
 By Ralph Waldo Emerson, 
 
 Author of "Essays," "Representative 
 
 Men," &c. Post 8vo, price 6s. cloth. 
 
 *„* Also a Cheap Edition, price Is., 
 
 cloth.
 
 Smith, Elder and Co., 65, Cornhill, London. 
 
 Egypt in its Biblical 
 
 Relations. 
 
 By the Eev. J. Foulhes Jones. 
 Post 8vo, price Is. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Turkish Life and 
 Character. 
 
 By Walter Thornbury. 
 
 Author of " Life in Spain," &c. &c. 
 Two Vols., with Eight Tinted Illustra- 
 tions, price 21s. cloth. 
 
 Shakspere and his 
 Birthplace. 
 
 By John E. Wise. 
 
 With 22 Illustrations by W. J. Linton. 
 Crown 8 vo. Printed on Toned Paper, 
 and handsomely bound in ornamental 
 cloth, gilt edges, price 7s. 6d. 
 
 Legends from Fairy Land. 
 
 By Holme Lee. 
 
 Author of " Against Wind and Tide," 
 " Sylvan Holt's Daughter." 
 
 Fcap 8vo, with Eight Illustrations by 
 H. Sanderson, price 3s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Bermuda : 
 
 Its History, Geology, Climate, Pro- 
 ducts, Agriculture, &c. &c. 
 
 By Theodore L. Godet, M.D. 
 Post 8vo, price 9s. cloth. 
 
 Tea Planting in the 
 Himalaya. 
 
 By A. T. McGowan. 
 8vo, with Frontispiece, price 5s. cloth. 
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 History of the Venetian 
 Republic : 
 
 Her Rise, her Greatness, and her 
 Civilization. 
 
 By W. Careiv Hazlitt. 
 
 Complete in 4 vols. 8vo, with Illustra- 
 tions, price 2/. 16s., cloth. 
 *** Volumes HI. and TV. may be had 
 separately. 
 
 -~o*- 
 
 Life of Schleiermachcr, 
 
 As unfolded in his Autobiography 
 and Letters. 
 
 Translated from the German by 
 Frederica Rowan. 
 
 Two vols., post 8vo, with Portrait. 
 Price One Guinea, cloth. 
 
 The Autobiography of 
 Leigh Hunt. 
 
 Revised by Himself, with addi- 
 tional Chapters by his Eldest 
 Son. 
 
 One vol., post 8vo, with a Portrait 
 engraved on Steel from an Original 
 Drawing. Price 7s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Life of Charlotte 
 Bronte (Currcr Bell). 
 
 By Mrs. GasJcell. 
 
 Fourth Edition, revised, one vol., with 
 a Portrait of Miss Bronte and a 
 View of Ilaworth Parsonage. Price 
 7s. 6d. ; morocco elegant, 14s.
 
 New and Standard Works published by 
 
 The Life of Edmond 
 Malone 
 
 (Editor of Shakspeare) ; with 
 Selections from his MS. Anec- 
 dotes. 
 
 By Sir James Prior, 
 
 Author of the "Life of Edmund 
 Burke," " Life of Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 Demy 8vo, with Portrait, price 14s. 
 cloth. 
 
 Robert Owen and his 
 
 Social Philosophy. 
 By William Lucas Sargant, 
 
 Author of " Social Innovators and their 
 
 Schemes." 
 
 1 vol., post 8vo. 10s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 Shelley Memorials. 
 
 Edited by Lady Shelley. 
 
 Second Edition. In one vol., post 8vo. 
 Price 7s. 6rf. cloth. 
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 
 
 A Visit to the Philippine 
 Isles in 1858-59. 
 
 By Sir John Bowring, 
 
 Governor of Hong Kong, and H.M.'s 
 Plenipotentiary in China. 
 
 Demy 8vo, with numerous Illustrations, 
 price 18s. cloth. 
 
 Heathen and Holy Lands ; 
 
 Or, Sunny Days on the Salween, 
 Nile, and Jordan. 
 
 By Captain J. P. Briggs, Bengal 
 Army. 
 
 Post 8vo, price 12s. cloth. 
 
 Narrative of the Mission 
 to Ava. 
 
 By Captain Henry Yule, Bengal 
 Engineers. 
 
 Imperial 8vo, with Twenty-four Plates 
 (Twelve coloured), Fifty Woodcuts, 
 and Four Maps. Elegantly bound 
 in cloth, with gilt edges, price 
 21. 12s. 6d. 
 
 Through Norway with a 
 Knapsack. 
 
 By W. M. Williams. 
 
 With Six Coloured Views. Second 
 Edition, post 8vo, price 12s. cloth. 
 
 Voyage to Japan, 
 
 Kamtschatka, Siberia, Tartary, 
 and the Coast of China, in 
 H.M.S. Barracouta. 
 By J. M. Tronson, P.N. 
 
 8vo, with Charts and Views. 18s. cloth. 
 
 To Cuba and Back. 
 
 By P. H. Dana, 
 
 Author of " Two Years before the 
 
 Mast," &c. 
 
 Post 8vo, price 7s. cloth. 
 
 Life and Liberty in 
 America. 
 
 By Dr. C. Machay. 
 
 Second Edition, 2 vols., post 8vo, with 
 Ten Tinted Illustrations, price 21s.
 
 Smith, Elder and Co., 65, Cornliill, London. 
 
 5 
 
 WORKS OF MR. RUSKI 
 
 Modern Painters. 
 
 Now complete in five vols., Imperial 8vo, with 84 Engravings on 
 Steel, and 216 on Wood, chiefly from Drawings by the Author. 
 With Index to the whole Work. Price 81. 6s. 6rf., in cloth. 
 
 EACH VOLUME MAY BE HAD SEPARATELY. 
 
 Vol. I., 6th Edition. OF GENERAL PRINCIPLES AND OF TRUTH. 
 
 Price 18s. cloth. 
 Vol. II., 4th Edition. OF THE IMAGINATIVE AND THEORETIC 
 
 FACULTIES. Price 10s. 6rf. cloth. 
 Vol. III. OF MANY THINGS. With Eighteen Illustrations drawn by the 
 
 Author, and engraved on Steel. Price 38s. cloth. 
 Vol. IV. ON MOUNTAIN BEAUTY. With Thirty-five Illustrations 
 
 engraved on Steel, and 116 Woodcuts, drawn by the Author. 
 
 Price 2/. 10s. cloth. 
 Vol. V. OF LEAF BEAUTY; OP CLOUD BEAUTY; OF IDEAS OF 
 
 RELATION. With Thirty-six Engravings on Steel, and 100 on 
 
 Wood. Price 2/. 10s. With Index to the five volumes. 
 
 The Stones of Venice. 
 
 Complete in Three Volumes, Imperial 
 8vo, with Fifty -three Plates and 
 numerous Woodcuts, drawn by the 
 Author. Price 5/. 15s. 6 d. cloth. 
 
 EACH VOLUME MAY BE HAD SEPARATELY. 
 
 Vol. I. The FOUNDATIONS, with 21 Plates. 
 
 Price 21. 2s. 2nd Edition. 
 Vol. II. THE SEA STORIES, with 20 Plates. 
 
 Price 21. 2s. 
 Vol. III. THE FALL, with 12 Plates. Price 
 
 \l. Us.&d. 
 
 The Seven Lamps of 
 Architecture. 
 
 Second Edition, with Pourteen Plates 
 drawn by the Author. Imp. 8vo. 
 Price 1/. Is. cloth. 
 
 Lectures on 
 Architecture and Painting. 
 
 With Fourteen Cuts, drawn by the 
 Author. Second Edition, crown 8vo. 
 Price 8s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Two Paths : 
 
 Being Lectures on Art, and its relation 
 to Manufactures and Decoration. 
 
 One vol., crown 8vo, with Two Steel 
 Engravings. Price 7s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Elements of Drawing-. 
 
 Sixth Thousand, crown 8vo,with Illus- 
 trations drawn by the Author. Price 
 7s. ed. cloth. 
 
 The Elements of 
 Perspective. 
 
 With 80 Diagrams, crown 8vo. Price 
 3s. <i</. cloth. 
 
 The Political Economy of 
 Art 
 
 Price 2s. Gd. cloth.
 
 New and Standard Works published by 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 Sermons : 
 By the late Rev. Fred. W. Robertson, 
 Incumbent of Trinity Chapel, Brighton . 
 
 First Series. — Eighth Edition, post 
 
 8vo. Price 9s. cloth. 
 Second Series. — Seventh Edition. 
 
 Price 9s. cloth. 
 Third Series. — Fifth Edition, post 
 
 8vo, with Portrait. Price 9s. cloth. 
 
 Expositions of St. Paul's 
 Epistles to the Corinthians. 
 
 By the late Rev. Fred. W. Robertson. 
 
 Second Edition. One thick Volume, 
 post 8vo. Price 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Lectures and Addresses. 
 
 By the late Rev. Fred. W. Robertson. 
 Post 8vo. Price 7s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Sermons : 
 
 Preached at Lincoln's Inn Chapel. 
 By the Rev. F. D. Maurice, M.A. 
 
 First Series, 2 vols., post 8vo, price 
 
 21s. cloth. 
 Second Series, 2 vols., post 8vo, 
 
 price 21s. cloth. 
 Third Series, 2 vols., post 8vo, 
 
 price 21s. cloth. 
 
 The Province of Reason ; 
 
 A Reply to Mr. Mansell's Bampton 
 Lecture. 
 
 By John Young, LL.D., Edin., 
 
 Author of " The Mystery ; or, Evil 
 and God." PostSvo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 "Is it not Written?" 
 
 Being the Testimony of Scripture 
 against the Errors of Romanism. 
 
 By the Rev. Edward S. Pryce. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 Historic Notes 
 
 On the Old and New Testament. 
 
 By Samuel Sharpe. 
 
 3rd and Revised Edition. 8vo. 7s. cl. 
 
 Tauler's Life and Sermons. 
 
 Translated by Miss Susanna 
 Winkivorth. 
 
 With Preface by Rev. C. Kingslet. 
 
 Small 4to, printed on Tinted Paper, 
 and bound in Antique Style, with 
 red edges, suitable for a Present. 
 Price 7s. 6 c?. 
 
 Quakerism, Past and 
 Present : 
 
 Being an Inquiry into the Causes of 
 its Decline. 
 
 By John S. Rowntree. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 %* This Essay gained the First Prize 
 of One Hundred Guineas oS'ered for 
 the best Essay on the subject. 
 
 Women of Christianity 
 
 Exemplary for Piety and Charity. 
 
 By Julia Kavanagh. 
 
 Post 8vo, with Portraits. Price 5s. in 
 embossed cloth.
 
 Smith, Elder and Co., 65, Cornhill, London. 
 
 WORKS ON INDIA AND THE EAST. 
 
 Christianity in India. 
 
 By John William Kaye. 
 8vo. Price 16s. cloth. 
 
 The Sanitary Condition of 
 Indian Jails. 
 
 By Joseph Eioart, M.D., 
 
 Bengal Medical Service. 
 
 With Plans, 8vo. Price 16s. cloth. 
 
 District Duties during the 
 Revolt 
 
 In the North-West Provinces of India. 
 
 By II. Dundas Robertson, 
 
 Bengal Civil Service. 
 
 Post 8vo, with a Map. Price 9s. cloth. 
 
 Campaigning Experiences 
 
 In Rajpootana and Central India 
 
 during the Suppression of the 
 
 Mutiny in 1857-8. 
 
 By Mrs. Henry Duberly, 
 
 Author of " A Journal kept during 
 
 the Russian War." 
 
 Post 8vo, with Map. Price 10s. Gd. 
 
 cloth. 
 
 Narrative of the Mutinies 
 in Oude. 
 
 By Captain G. Hutchinson, 
 
 Military Secretary, Oude. 
 
 Published by Authority. Post 8vo. 
 
 Price 10s. cloth. 
 
 A Lady's Escape from 
 Gwalior 
 
 During the Mutinies of 1857. 
 
 By Mrs. Coopland. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 10s. Gd. 
 
 The Crisis in the Punjab. 
 
 By Frederick II. Cooper, Esq., 
 
 C.S., Umritsir. 
 
 Post 8vo, with Map. Price 7s. Gd. 
 cloth. 
 
 Views and Opinions of 
 Gen. Jacob, C.B. 
 
 Edited by Captain Lewis Pelly. 
 Demy 8vo. Price 12s. cloth. 
 
 The Theory of Caste, 
 
 By B. A. Irving. 
 8vo. 5s. cloth. 
 
 Papers of the late Lord 
 Metcalfe. 
 
 By John William Kaye. 
 Demy 8vo. Price 16s. cloth. 
 
 British Rule in India. 
 
 By Harriet Martineau. 
 Sixth Thousand. Price 2s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 The English in India : 
 
 Being the Early History of the Fac- 
 tory at Surat, of Bombay. 
 By Phihp Anderson, A.M. 
 Second Edition, 8vo. Price 14s. cloth. 
 
 Life in Ancient India. 
 
 By Mrs. Spier. 
 With Sixty Illustrations by G. Sciiarf. 
 Price 15s., elegantly bound in 
 cloth, gilt edges. 
 
 8vo.
 
 8 
 
 Neio and Standard Works published by 
 
 The Parsees : 
 
 Their History, Religion, Manners, and 
 Customs. 
 
 By Dosabhoy Framjee. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 10*. cloth. 
 
 Tiger Shooting in India. 
 
 By Lieutenant William Bice, 
 
 25th Bombay N.I. 
 
 Super-royal 8vo. With Twelve Plates 
 
 in Chromo-lithography. 10s. 6</. cloth. 
 
 The Vital Statistics 
 
 Of the European and Native Armies 
 in India. 
 
 By Joseph Eivart, M.D. 
 
 . Bengal Medical Service. 
 
 Demy 8vo. Price 9s. cloth. 
 
 The Bhilsa Topes ; 
 
 Or, Buddhist Monuments of Central 
 India. 
 
 By Major Cunningham. 
 
 One vol. 8vo, with Thirty-three Plates. 
 Price 30s. cloth. 
 
 The Chinese and their 
 Rebellions. 
 
 By Tliomas Taylor Meadows. 
 
 One thick volume, 8vo, with Maps. 
 Price 18s. cloth. 
 
 Hong Kong to Manilla. 
 
 By Henry T. Ellis, R.N. 
 
 Post 8vo, with Fourteen Illustrations. 
 Price 12s. cloth. 
 
 Land Tax of India. 
 
 According to the Moohummudan Law. 
 
 By N. B. E. Baillie, Esq. 
 
 8vo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 The Defence of Lucknow. 
 
 By Captain Thomas F. Wilson, 
 
 13th Bengal N.I. 
 
 Assistant Adjutant-General. 
 
 Sixth Thousand. With Plan. Small 
 post 8vo. Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Eight Months' Campaign 
 
 Against the Bengal Sepoys during the 
 Mutiny, 1857. 
 
 By Colonel George Bourchier, C.B. 
 
 Bengal Horse Artillery. 
 
 With Plans. Post 8vo. Price 7s. Gd. 
 cloth. 
 
 The Commerce of India 
 with Europe, 
 
 And its Political Effects. 
 
 By B. A. Irving, Esq. 
 Post 8vo. Price 7s. 6^. cloth. 
 
 Moohummudan Law of 
 
 Sale. 
 
 By N. B. E. Baillie, Esq. 
 
 8vo. Price 14s. cloth. 
 
 Moohummudan Law of 
 
 Inheritance. 
 
 By N. B. E. Baillie, Esq. 
 8vo. Price 8s. cloth. 
 
 The Cauvery, Kistnah, and 
 Godaverv : 
 
 Being a Report on the Works con- 
 structed on those Rivers, for the 
 Irrigation of Provinces in the Pre- 
 sidency of Madras. 
 
 By B. Baird Smith, F.G.S., 
 
 Lieut.-Col. Bengal Engineers, &c. &c. 
 Demy 8vo, with 19 Plans. 28s. cloth.
 
 Smith, Elder and Co., 65, Cornhill, London. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Social Innovators and their 
 
 Schemes. 
 
 By William Lucas Sargant. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Ethica ; 
 
 Or, Characteristics of Men, Manners, 
 and Books. 
 
 By Arthur Lloyd Windsor. 
 
 Demy 8vo. Price 12s. cloth. 
 
 Slavery Doomed ; 
 
 Or, the Contest between Free and Slave 
 Labour in the United States. 
 
 By Frederick Milns Edge. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 Life of Lord Metcalfe. 
 
 By John William Kaye. 
 
 New Edition, in Two Vols., post 8vo, 
 
 with Portrait. Price 12s. cloth. 
 
 Life of 
 Sir John Malcolm, G.C.B. 
 
 By John William Kaye. 
 
 Two Vols. 8vo, with Portrait. 
 
 Price 36s. cloth. 
 
 The Autobiography of 
 Lutfullah. 
 
 A Mohamedan Gentleman ; with an 
 Account of his Visit to England. 
 
 Edited by E. B. Eastwick, Esq. 
 
 Third Edition, small post 8vo. 
 Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 The Life of Mahomet. 
 
 And History of Islam to the Era of 
 the Ilegira. 
 
 By W. Muir, Esq., Bengal C.S. 
 
 Vols. 1 and 2. 8vo. Price 32s. cloth. 
 
 Annals of 
 British Legislation : 
 
 A Classified Summary of Parliamentary 
 Papers. 
 
 Edited by Leone Levi. 
 
 The yearly issue consists of 1,000 
 pages, super-royal 8vo, and the Sub- 
 scription is Two Guineas, payable 
 in advance. The Forty-ninth Part 
 is just issued, completing the Fourth 
 Year's Issue. Vols. I. to VIII. may 
 now be had. Price 8/. 8s. cloth. 
 
 A Handbook of Average. 
 
 With a Chapter on Arbitration. 
 
 By Manley Hopkins. 
 
 Second Edition, Revised and brought 
 
 down to the present time. 
 8vo. Price 15s. cloth; 17s. 6d. half- 
 bound law calf. 
 
 Manual of the Mercantile 
 Law 
 
 Of Great Britain and Ireland. 
 By Leone Levi, Esq. 
 8vo. Price 12s. cloth. 
 
 Commercial Law of the 
 World. 
 
 By Leone Levi. 
 Two vols, royal 4to. Price 6/. cloth. 
 
 KX 
 
 Gunnery in 1858 : 
 
 A Treatise on Rifles, Cannon, and 
 Sporting Arms. 
 
 By William Greener, 
 
 Author of " The Gun." 
 
 Demy 8vo, with Illustrations. 
 
 Price 14s. cloth. 
 
 On the Strength of Nations. 
 
 By Andrew Bisset, M.A. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 9s. cloth.
 
 10 
 
 New and Standard Works published by 
 
 Sea Officer's Manual. 
 
 By Captain Alfred Parish. 
 
 Second Edition. Small post 8vo 
 Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 Vict 
 
 oria 
 
 And the Australian Gold Mines in 1 85 7 . 
 
 By William Westgarth. 
 Post 8vo, with Maps. 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 New Zealand and its 
 Colonization. 
 
 By William Swainson, Esq. 
 Demy 8vo. Price 14s. cloth. 
 
 the 
 
 The Education of 
 Human Race. 
 
 Now first Translated from the 
 
 German of Lessing. 
 Fcap. 8vo, antique cloth. Price 4s. 
 
 Germany and the Tyrol. 
 
 By Sir John Forbes. 
 
 Post 8vo, with Map and View. 
 Price 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Life in Spain. 
 
 By Walter Thornbury. 
 
 Two Vols, post 8vo, with Eight Tinted 
 Illustrations, price 21s. 
 
 Life in Tuscany. 
 
 By Mabel Sharman Crawford. 
 
 With Two Views, post 8vo. 
 
 Price 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Captivity of Eussian 
 Princesses in the Caucasus. 
 
 Translated from the Russian by 
 
 H. S. Edwards. 
 
 With an authentic Portrait of Shamil, 
 
 a Plan of his House, and a Map. 
 
 Post 8vo, price 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Life of J. Deacon 
 Hume. 
 
 By the Rev. Charles Badham. 
 Post 8vo. Price 9s. cloth. 
 
 Results of Astronomical 
 Observations 
 
 Made at the Cape of Good Hope. 
 
 By Sir John Herschel. 
 
 4 to, with Plates. Price 4/. 4s. cloth. 
 
 Geological Observations 
 
 On Coral Keefs, Volcanic Islands, and 
 on South America. 
 
 By Charles Darwin, Esq. 
 
 With Maps, Plates and Woodcuts. 
 Price 10s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 On the Treatment of the 
 Insane. 
 
 By John Conolly, 31. D. 
 Demy 8vo. Price 14s. cloth. 
 
 Visit to Salt Lake. 
 
 Being a Journey across the Plains to 
 the Mormon Settlements at Utah. 
 
 By William Chandless. 
 
 Post 8vo, with a Map. 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Red River Settlement. 
 
 By Alexander Ross. 
 One vol. post 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 Fur Hunters of the West. 
 
 By Alexander Ross. 
 
 Two vols, post 8vo, with Map and 
 Plate. Price 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Columbia River. 
 
 By Alexander Ross. 
 Post 8vo. Price 2s. 6d. cloth.
 
 Hints for Investing Money. 
 
 By Francis Play ford. 
 Second Edition, post 8 vo. 2s. ed. cloth . 
 
 Men, Women, and Books. 
 
 By Leigh Hunt. 
 Two vols. Price 10s. cloth. 
 
 Table Talk. By Leigh Hunt. 
 Price 3s. 6rf. cloth. 
 
 True Law of Population. 
 
 By Thomas Doubleday. 
 Third Edition, 8vo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 England and her Soldiers. 
 
 By Harriet Martineau. 
 
 With Three Plates of Illustrative Dia- 
 grams. 1 vol. crown 8vo, price 9s. cloth. 
 
 Grammar and Dictionary 
 of the Malay Language. 
 
 By John Crawfurd, Esq. 
 Two vols. 8vo. Price 36s. cloth. 
 
 Turkish Campaign in Asia. 
 
 By Charles Duncan, Esq. 
 Post 8vo. Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Poetics : 
 
 An Essay on Poetry. 
 
 By E. S. Dallas. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Juvenile Delinquency. 
 
 The Prize Essays. 
 
 By M. Hill and C. F. Cornwallis. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 The Militiaman. 
 
 With Two Etchings, by John Leech. 
 Post 8vo. Price 9s. cloth. 
 
 The Endowed Schools of 
 
 Ireland. 
 
 By Harriet Martineau. 
 8vo. Price 3s. 6d. cloth boards. 
 
 European Revolutions 
 of 1848. 
 
 By E. S. Cayley, Esq. 
 Crown 8vo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 The Court of Henry VIII. : 
 
 Being a Selection of the Despatches 
 of Sebastian Giustinian, Venetian 
 Ambassador, 1515-1519. 
 
 Translated by Rawdon Brown. 
 
 Two vols, crown 8vo. Price 21s. cloth. 
 
 Traits and Stories of 
 Anolo-Indian Life. 
 
 By Captain Addison. 
 With Eight Illustrations. 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Infanticide in India. 
 
 By Dr. John Wilson. 
 Demy 8vo. Price 1 2s. 
 
 Indian Exchange Tables. 
 By J. H. Roberts. 
 Second Edition, enlarged. 
 Price 10s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 8vo. 
 
 The Turkish Interpreter: 
 
 A Grammar of the Turkish Language. 
 
 By Major Boyd. 
 
 8vo. Price 12s. 
 
 Russo-Turkish Campaigns 
 of 1828-9. 
 
 Bij Colonel Chesney, 
 
 K.A., D.C.L., F.R.S. 
 
 Third Edition. Post 8vo, with Maps. 
 
 Price 12s. cloth.
 
 12 
 
 Nero and Standard Works published by 
 
 Military Forces and Insti- 
 tutions of Great Britain. 
 
 By II. Byerly Thompson. 
 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 Wit and Humour. 
 
 By Leigh Hunt. 
 Price 5*. cloth. 
 
 Jar of Honey from Hybla. 
 
 By Leigh Hunt. 
 
 Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 Manual of Therapeutics. 
 
 By E. J. Waring, M.D. 
 Fcap 8vo. Price 12s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Zoology of South Africa. 
 
 By Dr. Andrew Smith. 
 Royal 4to, cloth, with Coloured Plates. 
 
 MAMMALIA £S 
 
 AVES 7 
 
 REPTILIA 5 
 
 PISCES 2 
 
 INVERTEBRATE 1 
 
 THE 
 
 Botany of the Himalaya. 
 
 By Dr. Forbes Boyle. 
 
 Two vols. roy.4to, cloth, with Coloured 
 Plates. Reduced to 5/. 5s. 
 
 Memorandums in Ireland. 
 
 By Sir John Forbes. 
 Two vols, post 8vo. Price 1Z. Is. cloth. 
 
 The Oxford Museum. 
 
 By H W. Acland, M.D., 
 
 and J. Buskin, A.M. 
 
 Post 8vo, with Three Illustrations. 
 Price 2s. 6<£ cloth. 
 
 Life of Sir Robert Peel. 
 
 By Thomas Doubleday. 
 Two vols. 8vo. Price 18s. cloth. 
 
 The Argentine Provinces- 
 
 By William McCann, Esq. 
 
 Two vols, post 8vo, with Illustrations. 
 Price 24s. cloth. 
 
 Travels in Assam. 
 
 By Major John Butler. 
 One vol. 8vo, with Plates. 12s. cloth. 
 
 Woman in France. 
 
 By Julia Kavanagh. 
 
 Two vols, post 8vo, with Portraits. 
 Price 12s. cloth. 
 
 The Novitiate ; 
 
 Or, the Jesuit in Training. 
 
 By Andrew Steinmetz. 
 
 Third Edition, post 8vo. 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Signs of the Times ; 
 
 Or, The Dangers to Religious Liberty 
 in the Present Day. 
 
 By Chevalier Bunsen. 
 
 Translated by Miss S. Winkworth. 
 One vol. 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 Principles of Agriculture ; 
 
 Especially Tropical. 
 By B. Lovell Phillips, M.D. 
 Demy 8vo. Price 7s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 William Burke the Author 
 of Junius. 
 
 By Jelinger C. Symons. 
 Square. Price 3s. 6d. cl. 
 
 National Sonos and 
 Legends of Roumania. 
 
 Translated by E. C. Grenville 
 Murray, Esq. 
 
 With Music, crown 8vo. Price 2s. 6d.
 
 Smith, Elder and Co, 65, Comhill, London. 
 
 13 
 
 F1CTIO 
 
 Lavinia. 
 
 By the Author of " Doctor An- 
 tonio," "Lorenzo Benoni," &c. 
 Three Vols. 
 
 The Wortlebank Diary : 
 
 With Stories from Kathie Brande's 
 
 Portfolio. 
 
 By Holme Lee, 
 
 Author of "Against Wind and Tide," 
 
 "Sylvan Holt's Daughter," &c. 
 
 Three Vols. 
 
 OverlJhTciiffs. 
 
 By Mrs. Chanter, 
 
 Author of " Ferny Combes." 2 vols. 
 
 •<* 
 
 Scarsclale ; 
 
 Or, Life on the Lancashire and York- 
 shire Border Thirty Years ago. 
 3 Vols. 
 
 Esmond. 
 
 By W. M. Thackeray. 
 
 A New Edition, being the third, in 
 
 1 vol. crown Svo. Price 6s. cloth. 
 
 •<* 
 
 Herbert Chauncey : 
 
 A Man more Sinned against than 
 
 Sinning. 
 
 By Sir Arthur Hallam Elton, Bart., 
 
 Author of " Below the Surface." 
 
 In 3 vols. 
 
 Transformation ; 
 
 Or, the Komance of Monte Beni. 
 
 By Nathaniel Hawthorne, 
 
 Author of the " Scarlet Letter," &c. 
 
 In 3 vols. 
 
 The Firstborn. 
 
 By the Author of "My Lady." 
 Three volumes. 
 
 Netley Hall; 
 
 or, the Wife's Sister. 
 Foolscap 8vo. 6a., cloth. 
 
 Confidences. 
 
 By the Author of " Rita" 
 — ►©* 
 
 Cousin Stella; 
 
 Or, Conflict. 
 
 By the Author of " Violet Bank.' 1 ' 1 
 
 Three volumes. 
 
 Phantastes : 
 
 A Faerie Romance for Men and 
 
 Women. 
 
 By George Macdonald. 
 
 Post 8vo. Price 10s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 Against Wind and Tide. 
 
 By Holme Lee, 
 
 Author of " Sylvan Holt's Daughter." 
 
 Three volumes. 
 
 Greymore : 
 
 A Story of Country Life. 
 Three volumes. 
 
 The Cousins' Courtship. 
 
 By John R. Wise. 
 Two vols. 
 
 The Fool of Quality. 
 
 By Henry Brooke. 
 
 New and Revised Edition, with Biogra- 
 phical Preface by the Rev. Chas. 
 Kingsley, Rector of Eversley. 
 
 Two vols., post 8vo, with Portrait of 
 the Author, price 21s. 
 
 Trust for Trust. 
 
 By A. J. Barrowcliffe, 
 
 Author of " Amberhill." 
 
 Three volumes. 
 
 Ellen Raymond ; 
 
 Or, Ups and Downs. 
 
 By Mrs. Vidal, 
 
 Author of " Tales for the Bush," &c. 
 
 Three volumes.
 
 14 
 
 New and Standard Works published by 
 
 CHEAP SERIES OF POPULAR WORKS. 
 
 Transformation. 
 
 By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Autobiography of 
 Leigh Hunt. 
 
 Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 WORKS OF THE BRONTE SISTERS. 
 Price 2s. 6d. each vol. 
 
 By Currer Bell. 
 
 The Professor. 
 
 To which are added the Poems of 
 Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell. Now 
 first collected. 
 
 Jane Eyre. 
 Shirley. 
 Villette. 
 
 Wutherino- Heights and 
 Agnes Grey. 
 
 By Ellis and Acton Bell. 
 With Memoir bv Ccrkek Bell. 
 
 The Tenant of Wildfell 
 Hall. 
 
 By Acton Bell. 
 
 K>* 
 
 Life of Charlotte Bronte 
 
 (Currer Bell), 
 By Mrs. Gaskell. 
 
 Lectures on the English 
 Humourists 
 
 Of the Eighteenth Century. 
 
 By W. M. Thackeray, 
 
 Author of " Vanity Fair," " Esmond," 
 
 " The Virginians," &c. 
 
 Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The Town. 
 
 By Leigh Hunt. 
 
 With Forty-five Engravings. 
 
 Price 2s. Cd. cloth. 
 
 Kathie Brande : 
 
 The Fireside History of a Quiet Life. 
 
 By Holme Lee, 
 
 Author of " Sylvan Holt's Daughter." 
 
 Price 2s. Gd. cloth. 
 
 Below the Surface. 
 By Sir A. H. Elton, Bart., M.P. 
 Price 2s. 6rf. cloth. 
 
 ►e-. ■ 
 
 British India. 
 
 By Harriet Martineau. 
 Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 »o« — ■ — 
 
 Italian Campaigns of 
 General Bonaparte. 
 
 By George Hooper. 
 With a Map. Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Deerbrook. 
 
 By Harriet Martineau. 
 Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Tales of the Colonies. 
 
 By Charles Rowcroft. 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 KX 
 
 A Lost Love. 
 
 By Ashford Oiven. 2s. cloth. 
 
 Romantic Tales 
 
 (Including " Avillion ") 
 
 By the Author of " John Halifax, 
 
 Gentleman.'" 2s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 Domestic Stories. 
 
 By the same Author. 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 After Dark. 
 
 By Wilkie Collins. 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 School for Fathers. 
 
 By Talbot Gicynne. 2s. cloth. 
 
 Paul Ferroll. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Price 2s. cloth.
 
 Smith, Elder and Co. 65, Comhill, London. 
 
 15 
 
 JUVENILE AND EDUCATIONAL. 
 
 The Parents' Cabinet 
 
 Of Amusement and Instruction for 
 Young Persons. 
 
 New Edition, revised, in Twelve Shil- 
 ling Volumes, with numerous Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 * # * The work is now complete in 4 vols. 
 extra cloth, gilt edges, at 3s. 6f?. 
 each ; or in 6 vols, extra cloth, gilt 
 edges, at 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Every volume is complete in itself, 
 and sold separately. 
 
 By the Author of " Eound the Fire," &c. 
 i. 
 
 Round the Fire : 
 
 Six Stories for Young Readers. 
 
 Square 16mo, with Four Illustrations. 
 
 Price 2s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Unica : 
 
 A Story for a Sunday Afternoon. 
 With Four Illustrations. 2s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 in. 
 
 Old Gingerbread and the 
 Schoolboys. 
 
 With Four Coloured Plates. 2s. 6c?. cl. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Willie's Birthday : 
 
 Showing how a Little Boy did what he 
 
 Liked, and how he Enjoyed it. 
 
 With Four Illustrations. 2s. cloth. 
 
 Willie's Rest: 
 
 A Sunday Story. 
 With Four Illustrations. 2s. cloth. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Uncle Jack, the Fault 
 Killer. 
 
 With Four Illustrations. 2s. 6 J. cloth. 
 
 Legends from Fairy Land. 
 
 By Holme Lee, 
 
 Author of " Kathie Brande," " Sylvan 
 
 Holt's Daughter," &c. 
 With Eight Illustrations. 3s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 The King of the Golden 
 River ; 
 
 Or, the Black Brothers. 
 
 By John Ruskin, 31. A. 
 
 Third Edition, with 22 Illustrations by 
 Richard Doyle. Price 2s. 6c?. 
 
 Elementary Works on 
 Social Economy. 
 
 By William Ellis. 
 Uniform in foolscap 8vo, half-bound. 
 
 I.-OUTLINES OF SOCIAL ECONOMY. Is.Orl. 
 II— PROGRESSIVE LESSONS IN SOCIAL 
 SCIENCE. 
 III.-INTRODUCTION TO THE SOCIAL 
 
 SCIENCES. 2s. 
 IV.-OUTLINES OF THE UNDERSTANDING. 
 2s. 
 V.— WHAT AM I? WHERE AM IP WHAT 
 OUGHT I TO DO f &c. Is. sewed. 
 
 Religion in Common Life. 
 
 By William Ellis. 
 Post 8vo. Price 7s. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 K>4 
 
 Books for the Blind. 
 
 Printed in raised Roman letters, at 
 the Glasgow Asylum. 
 
 K>i 
 
 Rhymes for Little Ones. 
 
 With 16 Illustrations. Is. 6c?. cloth. 
 
 Stories from the Parlour 
 Printing Press. 
 
 By the Authors of the "Parent's 
 
 Cabinet" 
 
 Fcap 8vo. Price 2s. cloth. 
 
 Juvenile Miscellany. 
 
 Six Engravings. Price 2s. Gd. cloth.
 
 16 Smith, Elder and Co.'s Nero and Standard Works. 
 
 RECENT POETRY. 
 
 Prometheus' Daughter 
 
 A Poem. 
 By Col. James Abbott. 
 Crown 8vo. 
 
 Christ's Company and 
 other Poems. 
 
 By Richard Watson Dixon, M.A. 
 Fcap 8vo, price 5s. cloth. 
 
 Sybil, and other Poems. 
 
 By John Lyttelton. 
 Fcap 8vo, price As. cloth. 
 
 Memories of Merton. 
 
 By John Bruce Norton. 
 Fcap 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 Stanzas. 
 
 By Archibald York. 
 Fcap 8vo. Price 2s. 6d. cloth. 
 
 Hannibal ; a Drama. 
 
 Fcap 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 A Man's Heart : a Poem. 
 
 By Dr. Charles Mackay. 
 Post 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 -•04- 
 
 Edwin and Ethelburga 
 
 A Drama. 
 
 By Frederick W. Wyon. 
 Fcap 8vo. Price 4s. cloth. 
 
 Shelley ; and other Poems. 
 
 By John Alfred Langford. 
 Fcap 8vo. Price 5s. cloth. 
 
 *o* 
 
 Magdalene : a Poem. 
 
 Fcap 8vo. Price Is. 
 
 Homely Ballads 
 
 For the Working Man's Fireside. 
 
 By Mary Sewell. 
 
 Ninth Thousand. Post 8vo. Cloth, Is. 
 
 K>» 
 
 Stories in Verse for the 
 Street and Lane : 
 
 By Mrs. Sewell. 
 Post 8vo. Cloth, price Is. 
 
 THE CORNHILL MAGAZINE. 
 
 Edited by W. M. Thackeray. 
 
 Price One Shilling Monthly, with Illustrations. 
 
 A NEW STORY, BY MR. THACKERAY, 
 
 ENTITLED 
 
 " THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD, 
 
 SHOWING WHO ROBBED HIM, WHO HELPED HIM, AND WHO PASSED HIM BY ;" 
 
 To be continued throughout Sixteen Numbers, commenced on the 
 
 First of January. 
 
 "Volumes I. and II., each containing 768 pages of Letterpress, with 
 12 Illustrations, 40 Vignettes and Diagrams, and a Chart, is now ready, 
 handsomely bound in Embossed Cloth. Price 7s. 6d. 
 
 For the convenience of Subscribers, the Embossed Cloth Cover for the 
 Volume will be sold separately, price One Shilling. 
 
 Beading Covers for separate Numbers have also been prepared, price 
 Sixpence in plain Cloth, or One Shilling and Sixpence in French Morocco. 
 
 London : Printed by Smith, Eldeb. and Co., Little Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey, E.C.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9-50to-7,'54 (5990)444
 
 PR 
 
 Abbott - 
 
 U000 Prometheus' 
 A12$p daughter 
 
 PR 
 
 Uooo 
 
 a 125p 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 369 276