That scared away the meek ethereal Hours And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared, From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault, Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light, And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades, Until he reach'd the great main cupola; There standing fierce beneath, he stampt his foot, And from the basements deep to the high towers Jarr'd his own golden region; and before The quavering thunder thereupon had ceased, His voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb, To this result: "O dreams of day and night! O monstrous forms! O effigies of pain! O spectres, busy in a cold, cold gloom!
O lank-ear'd Phantoms of black-weeded pools! Why do I know ye? why have I seen ye? why Is my eternal essence thus distraught
To see and to behold these horrors new?
Saturn is fallen, am I too to fall?
Am I to leave this haven of my rest,
This cradle of my glory, this soft clime, This calm luxuriance of blissful light, These crystalline pavilions, and pure fanes, Of all my lucent empire? It is left Deserted, void, nor any haunt of mine. The blaze, the splendour, and the symmetry, I cannot see-but darkness, death and darkness. Even here, into my centre of repose,
The shady visions come to domineer,
Insult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp- Fall! No, by Tellus and her briny robes! Over the fiery frontier of my realms
I will advance a terrible right arm
Shall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove, And bid old Saturn take his throne again." He spake, and ceased, the while a heavier threat Held struggle with his throat, but came not forth. For as in theatres of crowded men
Hubbub increases more they call out "Hush!" So at Hyperion's words the Phantoms pale Bestirr'd themselves, thrice horrible and cold; And from the mirror'd level where he stood A mist arose, as from a scummy marsh. At this, through all his bulk an agony Crept gradual, from the feet unto the crown, Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular Making slow way, with head and neck convulsed From over-strained might. Released, he fled To the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours Before the dawn in season due should blush, He breathed fierce breath against the sleepy portals, Clear'd them of heavy vapours, burst them wide Suddenly on the ocean's chilly streams. The planet orb of fire, whereon he rode Each day from east to west the heavens through, Spun round in sable curtaining of clouds; Not therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid, But ever and anon the glancing spheres, Circles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure, Glow'd through, and wrought upon the muffling dark Sweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep Up to the zenith-hieroglyphics old, Which sages and keen-eyed astrologers
Then living on the earth, with labouring thought Won from the gaze of many centuries:
Now lost, save what we find on remnants huge
Of stone, or marble swart; their import gone, Their wisdom long since fled. Two wings this orb Possess'd for glory, two fair argent wings, Ever exalted at the God's approach:
And now, from forth the gloom their plumes immense Rose, one by one, till all outspreaded were; While still the dazzling globe maintain'd eclipse, Awaiting for Hyperion's command.
Fain would he have commanded, fain took throne And bid the day begin, if but for change. He might not:- No, though a primeval God: The sacred seasons might not be disturb'd. Therefore the operations of the dawn
Stay'd in their birth, even as here 'tis told. Those silver wings expanded sisterly, Eager to sail their orb; the porches wide Open'd upon the dusk demesnes of night; And the bright Titan, frenzied with new woes, Unused to bend, by hard compulsion bent His spirit to the sorrow of the time; And all along a dismal rack of clouds, Upon the boundaries of day and night,
He stretch'd himself in grief and radiance faint. There as he lay, the Heaven with its stars Look'd down on him with pity, and the voice Of Cœlus, from the universal, space,
Thus whisper'd low and solemn in his ear: "O brightest of my children dear, earth-born And sky-engender'd, Son of Mysteries! All unrevealed even to the powers Which met at thy creating! at whose joys And palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft, I, Cœlus, wonder how they came and whence;
And at the fruits thereof what shapes they be, Distinct, and visible; symbols divine, Manifestations of that beauteous life
Diffused unseen throughout eternal space; Of these new-form'd art thou, oh brightest child! Of these, thy brethren and the Goddesses! There is sad feud among ye, and rebellion Of son against his sire. I saw him fall, I saw my firstborn tumbled from his throne! To me his arms were spread, to me his voice Found way from forth the thunders round his head! Pale wox I, and in vapours hid my face. Art thou, too, near such doom? vague fear there is : For I have seen my sons most unlike Gods. Divine ye were created, and divine In sad demeanour, solemn, undisturb'd, Unruffled, like high Gods, ye lived and ruled Now I behold in you fear, hope, and wrath; Actions of rage and passion; even as I see them, on the mortal world beneath, In men who die.-This is the grief, O Son! Sad sign of ruin, sudden dismay, and fall! Yet do thou strive; as thou art capable, As thou canst move about, an evident God, And canst oppose to each malignant hour Ethereal presence:-I am but a voice; My life is but the life of winds and tides,- No more than winds and tides can I avail:- But thou canst.-Be thou therefore in the van Of circumstance; yea, seize the arrow's barb Before the tense string murmur.-To the earth! For there thou wilt find Saturn, and his woes. Meantime I will keep watch on thy bright sun, VOL. III. 10
And of thy seasons be a careful nurse."- Ere half this region-whisper had come down Hyperion arose, and on the stars
Lifted his curvèd lids, and kept them wide Until it ceased; and still he kept them wide: And still they were the same bright, patient stars. Then with a slow incline of his broad breast, Like to a diver in the pearly seas,
Forward he stoop'd over the airy shore, And plunged all noiseless into the deep night.
UST at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad place Where Cybele and the bruised Titans mourn'd. It was a den where no insulting light
Could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans They felt, but heard not, for the solid roar Of thunderous waterfalls and torrents hoarse, Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where. Crag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem'd Ever as if just rising from a sleep,
Forehead to forehead held their monstrous horns; And thus in thousand hugest phantasies Made a fit roofing to this nest of woe. Instead of thrones, hard flint they sat upon, Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge Stubborn'd with iron. All were not assembled: Some chain'd in torture, and some wandering.
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