I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkiling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came, and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation’ and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain’d;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: The wild birds shriek’d,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food:
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again;—a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two
Of and enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies; they met beside
The dying embers of an alter-place,
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things
Fr an unholy usage; they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects—saw, and shriek’d, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful—was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp’d
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon their mistress had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the universe.
I am, yet what I am none cares or knows
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes -
They rise and vanish in oblivion's host
Like shadows in love-frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live - like vapours tos'd
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest that I love the best
Are strange - nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below - above, the vaulted sky.
Amidst the happiest joy a shade of grief
Will come - to mark in summer's prime a leaf
Tinged with the Autumn's visible decay
As pining to forgetfulness away
Aye blank forgetfulness that coldest lot
To be - and to have been - and then be not
E'en beauty's self, love's essence, heaven's prime -
Mate for eternity in joys sublime,
Earth's most divinest, is a mortal thing
And nurses time's sick Autumn from its Spring
And fades and fades till wonder knows it not
And admiration hath all praise forgot
Coldly forsaking an unheeding past
To fade and fall and die like common things at last
First love will with the heart remain
When all its hopes are bye
As frail rose blossoms still retain
Their fragrance till they die
And joy's first dreams will haunt the mind
With shades from whence they sprung
As Summer leaves the stems behind
On which Spring's blossoms hung
Mary I dare not call thee dear
I've lost that right so long
Yet once again I vex thine ear
With memory's idle song
Had time and change not blotted out
The love of former days
Thou were the last that I should doubt
Of pleasing with my praise
When honied tokens from each tongue
Told with what truth we loved
How rapturous to thy lips I clung
Whilst nought but smiles reproved
But now methinks if one kind word
Were whispered in thine ear
Thou'dst startle like an untamed bird
And blush with wilder fear
How loath to part how fond to meet
Had we two used to be
At sunset with what eager feet
I hastened on to thee
Scarce nine days passed us ere we met
In Spring nay wintry weather
Now nine years' suns have risen and set
Nor found us once together
Thy face was so familiar grown
Thyself so often bye
A moment's memory when alone
Would bring thee to mine eye
But now my very dreams forget
That witching look to trace
Though there thy beauty lingers yet
It wears a stranger face
I felt a pride to name thy name
But now that pride hath flown
My words e'en seem to blush for shame
That own I love thee on
I felt I then thy heart did share
Nor urged a blinding vow
But much I doubt if thou couldst spare
One word of kindness now
And what is now my name to thee
Though once nought seemed so dear
Perhaps a jest in hours of glee
To please some idle ear
And yet like counterfeits with me
Impressions linger on
Though all the gilded finery
That passed for truth is gone
Ere the world smiled upon my lays
A sweeter meed was mine
Thy blushing look of ready praise
Was raised at every line
But now methinks thy fervent love
Is changed to scorn severe
And songs that other hearts approve
Seem discord to thine ear
When last thy gentle cheek I prest
And heard thee feign adieu
I little thought that seeming jest
Would prove a word so true
A fate like this hath oft befell
E'en loftier hopes than ours
Springs bids full many buds to swell
That ne'er can grow to flowers
When he shall die
Take him and cut him in little stars
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
But first on earth, as Vampyre sent,
Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent;
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet, which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corpse,
Thy victims, ere they yet expire,
Shall know the demon for their sire;
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are withered on the stem.