To see, "that" tyrant Lord his revels keep _10 The leader of the cruel hunt to them, Chasing the wolf and wolf-cubs up the steep
Ascent, that from "the Pisan is the screen"
Of "Lucca"; with him Gualandi came, Sismondi, and Lanfranchi, "bloodhounds lean, _15
Trained to the sport and eager for the game Wide ranging in his front;" but soon were seen Though by so short a course, with "spirits tame,"
The father and "his whelps" to flag at once, And then the sharp fangs gored their bosoms deep. _20 Ere morn I roused myself, and heard my sons,
For they were with me, moaning in their sleep, And begging bread. Ah, for those darling ones!
Right cruel art thou, if thou dost not weep
In thinking of my soul"s sad augury; _25 And if thou weepest not now, weep never more!
They were already waked, as wont drew nigh
The allotted hour for food, and in that hour Each drew a presage from his dream. When I "Heard locked beneath me of that horrible tower _30
The outlet; then into their eyes alone I looked to read myself," without a sign Or word. I wept not--turned within to stone.
They wept aloud, and little Anselm mine, Said--"twas my youngest, dearest little one,-- _35 "What ails thee, father? Why look so at thine?"
In all that day, and all the following night, I wept not, nor replied; but when to shine Upon the world, not us, came forth the light
Of the new sun, and thwart my prison thrown _40 Gleamed through its narrow c.h.i.n.k, a doleful sight, "Three faces, each the reflex of my own,
Were imaged by its faint and ghastly ray;"
Then I, of either hand unto the bone, Gnawed, in my agony; and thinking they _45
Twas done from sudden pangs, in their excess, All of a sudden raise themselves, and say, "Father! our woes, so great, were yet the less
Would you but eat of us,--twas "you who clad Our bodies in these weeds of wretchedness; _50 Despoil them"." Not to make their hearts more sad,
I "hushed" myself. That day is at its close,-- Another--still we were all mute. Oh, had The obdurate earth opened to end our woes!
The fourth day dawned, and when the new sun shone, _55 Outstretched himself before me as it rose My Gaddo, saying, "Help, father! hast thou none
For thine own child--is there no help from thee?"
He died--there at my feet--and one by one, I saw them fall, plainly as you see me. _60
Between the fifth and sixth day, ere twas dawn, I found "myself blind-groping o"er the three."
Three days I called them after they were gone.
Famine of grief can get the mastery.
SONNET.
FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI.
GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE ALIGHIERI:
[Published by Forman (who a.s.signs it to 1815), "Poetical Works of P. B.
S.", 1876.]
Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit Changed thoughts and vile in thee doth weep to find: It grieves me that thy mild and gentle mind Those ample virtues which it did inherit Has lost. Once thou didst loathe the mult.i.tude _5 Of blind and madding men--I then loved thee-- I loved thy lofty songs and that sweet mood When thou wert faithful to thyself and me I dare not now through thy degraded state Own the delight thy strains inspire--in vain _10 I seek what once thou wert--we cannot meet And we were wont. Again and yet again Ponder my words: so the false Spirit shall fly And leave to thee thy true integrity.
SCENES FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO.
FROM THE SPANISH OF CALDERON.
[Published by Mrs. Sh.e.l.ley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; dated March, 1822.
There is a transcript of Scene 1 among the Hunt ma.n.u.scripts, which has been collated by Mr. Buxton Forman.]
SCENE 1:
ENTER CYPRIAN, DRESSED AS A STUDENT; CLARIN AND MOSCON AS POOR SCHOLARS, WITH BOOKS.
CYPRIAN: In the sweet solitude of this calm place, This intricate wild wilderness of trees And flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants, Leave me; the books you brought out of the house To me are ever best society. _5 And while with glorious festival and song, Antioch now celebrates the consecration Of a proud temple to great Jupiter, And bears his image in loud jubilee To its new shrine, I would consume what still _10 Lives of the dying day in studious thought, Far from the throng and turmoil. You, my friends, Go, and enjoy the festival; it will Be worth your pains. You may return for me When the sun seeks its grave among the billows _15 Which, among dim gray clouds on the horizon, Dance like white plumes upon a hea.r.s.e;-- and here I shall expect you.
NOTES: _14 So transcr.; Be worth the labour, and return for me 1824.
_16, _17 So 1824; Hid among dim gray clouds on the horizon Which dance like plumes--transcr., Forman.
MOSCON: I cannot bring my mind, Great as my haste to see the festival Certainly is, to leave you, Sir, without _20 Just saying some three or four thousand words.
How is it possible that on a day Of such festivity, you can be content To come forth to a solitary country With three or four old books, and turn your back _25 On all this mirth?
NOTES: _21 thousand transcr.; hundred 1824.
_23 be content transcr.; bring your mind 1824.
CLARIN: My master"s in the right; There is not anything more tiresome Than a procession day, with troops, and priests, And dances, and all that.
NOTE: _28 and priests transcr.; of men 1824.
MOSCON: From first to last, Clarin, you are a temporizing flatterer; _30 You praise not what you feel but what he does;-- Toadeater!
CLARIN: You lie--under a mistake-- For this is the most civil sort of lie That can be given to a man"s face. I now Say what I think.
CYPRIAN: Enough, you foolish fellows! _35 Puffed up with your own doting ignorance, You always take the two sides of one question.
Now go; and as I said, return for me When night falls, veiling in its shadows wide This glorious fabric of the universe. _40
NOTE: _36 doting ignorance transcr.; ignorance and pride 1824.
MOSCON: How happens it, although you can maintain The folly of enjoying festivals, That yet you go there?
CLARIN: Nay, the consequence Is clear:--who ever did what he advises Others to do?--