they had
sustained
despair.
Shelley
whither dost thou fly?
My steps are faint--Come back, thou dearest one-- _4285
Return, ah me! return! '--The wind passed by
On which those accents died, faint, far, and lingeringly.
8.
Woe! Woe! that moonless midnight! --Want and Pest
Were horrible, but one more fell doth rear,
As in a hydra's swarming lair, its crest _4290
Eminent among those victims--even the Fear
Of Hell: each girt by the hot atmosphere
Of his blind agony, like a scorpion stung
By his own rage upon his burning bier
Of circling coals of fire; but still there clung _4295
One hope, like a keen sword on starting threads uphung:
9.
Not death--death was no more refuge or rest;
Not life--it was despair to be! --not sleep,
For fiends and chasms of fire had dispossessed
All natural dreams: to wake was not to weep, _4300
But to gaze mad and pallid, at the leap
To which the Future, like a snaky scourge,
Or like some tyrant's eye, which aye doth keep
Its withering beam upon his slaves, did urge
Their steps; they heard the roar of Hell's sulphureous surge. _4305
10.
Each of that multitude, alone, and lost
To sense of outward things, one hope yet knew;
As on a foam-girt crag some seaman tossed
Stares at the rising tide, or like the crew
Whilst now the ship is splitting through and through; _4310
Each, if the tramp of a far steed was heard,
Started from sick despair, or if there flew
One murmur on the wind, or if some word
Which none can gather yet, the distant crowd has stirred.
11.
Why became cheeks, wan with the kiss of death, _4315
Paler from hope?
they had sustained despair.
Why watched those myriads with suspended breath
Sleepless a second night? they are not here,
The victims, and hour by hour, a vision drear,
Warm corpses fall upon the clay-cold dead; _4320
And even in death their lips are wreathed with fear. --
The crowd is mute and moveless--overhead
Silent Arcturus shines--'Ha! hear'st thou not the tread
12.
'Of rushing feet? laughter? the shout, the scream,
Of triumph not to be contained? See! hark! _4325
They come, they come! give way! ' Alas, ye deem
Falsely--'tis but a crowd of maniacs stark
Driven, like a troop of spectres, through the dark,
From the choked well, whence a bright death-fire sprung,
A lurid earth-star, which dropped many a spark _4330
From its blue train, and spreading widely, clung
To their wild hair, like mist the topmost pines among.
13.
And many, from the crowd collected there,
Joined that strange dance in fearful sympathies;
There was the silence of a long despair, _4335
When the last echo of those terrible cries
Came from a distant street, like agonies
Stifled afar. --Before the Tyrant's throne
All night his aged Senate sate, their eyes
In stony expectation fixed; when one _4340
Sudden before them stood, a Stranger and alone.
My steps are faint--Come back, thou dearest one-- _4285
Return, ah me! return! '--The wind passed by
On which those accents died, faint, far, and lingeringly.
8.
Woe! Woe! that moonless midnight! --Want and Pest
Were horrible, but one more fell doth rear,
As in a hydra's swarming lair, its crest _4290
Eminent among those victims--even the Fear
Of Hell: each girt by the hot atmosphere
Of his blind agony, like a scorpion stung
By his own rage upon his burning bier
Of circling coals of fire; but still there clung _4295
One hope, like a keen sword on starting threads uphung:
9.
Not death--death was no more refuge or rest;
Not life--it was despair to be! --not sleep,
For fiends and chasms of fire had dispossessed
All natural dreams: to wake was not to weep, _4300
But to gaze mad and pallid, at the leap
To which the Future, like a snaky scourge,
Or like some tyrant's eye, which aye doth keep
Its withering beam upon his slaves, did urge
Their steps; they heard the roar of Hell's sulphureous surge. _4305
10.
Each of that multitude, alone, and lost
To sense of outward things, one hope yet knew;
As on a foam-girt crag some seaman tossed
Stares at the rising tide, or like the crew
Whilst now the ship is splitting through and through; _4310
Each, if the tramp of a far steed was heard,
Started from sick despair, or if there flew
One murmur on the wind, or if some word
Which none can gather yet, the distant crowd has stirred.
11.
Why became cheeks, wan with the kiss of death, _4315
Paler from hope?
they had sustained despair.
Why watched those myriads with suspended breath
Sleepless a second night? they are not here,
The victims, and hour by hour, a vision drear,
Warm corpses fall upon the clay-cold dead; _4320
And even in death their lips are wreathed with fear. --
The crowd is mute and moveless--overhead
Silent Arcturus shines--'Ha! hear'st thou not the tread
12.
'Of rushing feet? laughter? the shout, the scream,
Of triumph not to be contained? See! hark! _4325
They come, they come! give way! ' Alas, ye deem
Falsely--'tis but a crowd of maniacs stark
Driven, like a troop of spectres, through the dark,
From the choked well, whence a bright death-fire sprung,
A lurid earth-star, which dropped many a spark _4330
From its blue train, and spreading widely, clung
To their wild hair, like mist the topmost pines among.
13.
And many, from the crowd collected there,
Joined that strange dance in fearful sympathies;
There was the silence of a long despair, _4335
When the last echo of those terrible cries
Came from a distant street, like agonies
Stifled afar. --Before the Tyrant's throne
All night his aged Senate sate, their eyes
In stony expectation fixed; when one _4340
Sudden before them stood, a Stranger and alone.
