Part 5

Thou first, O father of the human race, Didst see the sparkling of revolving spheres, The new-born generations of the fields, The breezes roving o'er the infant trees, When towering rocks and yet unpeopled vales Heard for the first time Alpine fury sound Of rushing torrents; when unconscious Peace Reigned o'er the destined regions of renowned Nations and cities full of strife and noise; And when upon uncultivated hills Silent and lonely did the radiance shine Of sun and moon. Oh happy then, ignoring Events disastrous and the name of guilt, The vast abode of earth! Oh, how much grief Unto thy race, thou Father full of sorrow! How long a series of most bitter deeds The Fates prepare! The soil, behold! is stained With deepest crimson of a brother's blood, By brother shed, and o'er the sky divine The wings of Death their evil shadow throw. The fratricide with horror taketh flight, Shunning the lonely dimness of the shades And secret wrath of winds in forest deep; He is the first to build proud towns, henceforth Domain and dwelling of Care's pallid form; And first Remorse despairing fixeth man In a pent-up and undelightful home. Then from the plough the guilty hand was ta'en, And scorn was cast on labours of the field, And the evil halls became the home of sloth. All minds lay languid and of strength bereft In weary frames; and as the last and worst Of ills, mankind by slavery was bound.

And thou from pouring skies and rolling seas That lashed the summits of the cloudy peaks, Didst save the germ of the ill-fated race, O thou to whom from sable space of air And from the mountains floating in the deep, A sign of hope restored by snowy dove Was brought; and from the ancient clouds emerging, The troubled sun upon the skies obscure Painted the bow of many beauteous hues. The rescued race returns unto the earth, Renewing evil deeds and ruthless thoughts And their pursuing terrors. To the reign Of oceans inaccessible it shows Its vengeful might, and beareth tears and grief To stars unknown and to remotest shores.

Now thee within my heart I meditate, And of thy race the generous descendants, Thou just and valourous father of the pious! I shall relate how, seated in the calm Meridian shadows of a quiet home, Beside the meads so dear unto thy flocks, Thy soul was blest by strangers from the Heavens Ethereal and disguised; and how, O son Of wise Rebecca! in the evening hour Beside the rustic well and in the vale Of Haran, cherished by the gentle shepherds In their gay leisure, love inspired thy heart For Laban's beauteous daughter: love supreme, Who to long exile and affliction long, And to the hated yoke of servitude, Made many a soul of haughty strength submit.

Once, truly once (nor with mere shadows idle Aonian song and legendary lore Delude mankind), this globe of ours benign And dear and pleasant to our race appeared, And golden was the tenour of our age. Not that with milk the fertile springs rushed forth, And from the mountains to the valleys spread; Nor with the flocks the tiger did resort In happy peace; nor with the wolves the shepherd Proceeded gaily to the crystal fount; But that our humankind lived without grief, Unconscious of the fate that o'er it hung, And of the woes impending; the sweet error, The fond delusions, and the pleasing veil Across the laws of Heaven and Nature thrown, Were all sufficient; and our quiet bark Was led into the haven of calm Hope.

Thus, in the boundless forests of the West Liveth a happy race, whom pallid Care Pursueth not, whose members are not wasted By dire disease; to whom the trees yield fruit; Abode, the caverns kind; refreshing drink, The rivulets and brooks; and as her prey Death claims them unforeseen. Alas! 'gainst our Unhallowed daring, how defenceless are The haunts of Nature wise! our dauntless fury Doth penetrate the shores and caves remote And quiet forests, teaching the despoiled Desires and sorrows which they never knew, And hunting Happiness, aghast and naked, Even to the splendours of the setting sun.

THE LAST SONG OF SAPPHO.

Thou peaceful night, thou chaste and silver ray Of the declining Moon; and thou, arising Amid the quiet forest on the rocks, Herald of day: O cherished and endeared, Whilst Fate and doom were to my knowledge closed, Objects of sight! No lovely land or sky Doth longer gladden my despairing mood. By unaccustomed joy we are revived When o'er the liquid spaces of the Heavens And o'er the fields alarmed doth wildly whirl The tempest of the winds; and when the car, The ponderous car of Jove, above our heads Thundering, divides the heavy air obscure. O'er mountain peaks and o'er abysses deep We love to float amid the swiftest clouds; We love the terror of the herds dispersed, The streams that flood the plain, And the victorious, thunderous fury of the main.

Fair is thy sight, O sky divine, and fair Art thou, O dewy earth! Alas, of all This beauty infinite, no slightest part To wretched Sappho did the Gods or Fate Inexorable give. Unto thy reign Superb, O Nature, an unwelcome guest And a disprized adorer, doth my heart And do mine eyes implore thy lovely forms; But all in vain. The sunny land around Smiles not for me, nor from ethereal gates The blush of early dawn; not me the songs Of brilliant feathered birds, not me the trees Salute with murmuring leaves; and where in shade Of drooping willows doth a liquid stream Display its pure and crystal course, from my Advancing foot the soft and flowing waves Withdrawing with affright, Disdainfully it takes through flowery dell its flight.

What fault so great, what guiltiness so dire, Did blight me ere my birth, that adverse grew To me the brow of fortune and the sky? How did I sin, a child, when ignorant Of wickedness is life, that from that time Despoiled of youth, and of its fairest flowers, The cruel Fates wove with relentless wrath The web of my existence? Reckless words Rise on thy lips; the events that are to be, A secret council guides. Secret is all, Our agony excepted. We were born, Neglected race, for tears; the reason lies Amid the gods on high. Oh cares and hopes Of early years! To beauty did the Sire, To glorious beauty an eternal reign Give o'er this humankind; for warlike deed For learned lyre or song, In unadorned shape, no charms to fame belong.

Ah, let us die! The unworthy garb divested, The naked soul will take to Dis its flight, And expiate the cruel fault of blind Dispensers of our lot. And thou, for whom Long love in vain, long faith and fruitless rage Of unappeased desire assailed my heart, Live happily, if happily on earth A mortal yet hath lived. Not me did Jove Sprinkle with the delightful liquor from The niggard urn, since of my childhood died The dreams and fond delusions. The glad days Of our existence are the first to fly; And then disease and age approach, and last, The shade of frigid Death. Behold! of all The palms I hoped for, and the errors sweet, Hades remains; and the transcendent mind Sinks to the Stygian shore Where sable night doth reign, and silence evermore.

THE FIRST LOVE.

The day once more within my memory lives When first I felt the affray of Love, and said: "Ah me, if this be Love, what pangs he gives!" Unto the earth I bent mine eyes and head, Beholding her from whom my heart did learn The first and stainless passion whence it bled. Love, to dire goal thou didst my fancy turn! Why should so tender an affection sting With such desire, such agonies that burn? Why not serene, and with unfettered wing, Why full of frenzy and of loud lament Into my heart didst thou thy joyaunce bring? Tell me, my tender heart, what terror sent A shaft through thee, what anguish 'mid the thought, Beside which paled whate'er was once content? That thought by day with flattering pleasure fraught. By night as well, unto my mind appeared, When worlds the silence of deep shadows sought. Restless, yet happy, though to grief endeared, Thou on my pillows didst alarm my frame With palpitations, every minute feared. And where I sad and grieved and weary came To close mine eyes in slumber, feverish fire And frenzy roused me, sleep could never tame. How 'mid the shades, the queen of my desire Uprose with vivid splendour, and mine eyes Gazed on her closed, the lids not rising higher! How many a thrill of sweet emotion flies Through my glad frame which joyous ardours seize! How many thoughts within my soul arise, Uncertain, undefined! Thus 'mid the trees Of ancient forests doth a murmur sound, Vague, deep of tone, in answer to the breeze. And whilst in silence all my thoughts were bound, What said'st thou, heart, when she went far away, For whom a world of passion thou hadst found? I scarce within me felt the heat a day, Arising from Love's furnace, when the air Whereon it came, to scenes remote did stray. At early dawn I lay in sleepless care; Before our house the horses pranced, ere long To make me of my only joyaunce bare! And I, to whom misgivings vague belong, These orbs did idly in the shadows strain, And forced my hearing with an effort strong To catch the voice, last token I could gain From the fair lips of her whom I revere: All else, alas! hath Heaven from me ta'en. How many a time struck on my doubtful ear Plebean cries and accents, and I froze In all my frame, my heart appalled with fear! And when at last within my heart I close The voice so well beloved, and hear the race Of wheels and horses as the carriage goes: Knowing myself despoiled, I hide my face, And shut mine eyes, and sink upon my bed, And sigh, and on my heart my hand I place. After a while with wavering limbs I tread As one amazed, along the silent room, And "What power else hath struck my heart?" I said. Then the remembrance with most bitter gloom Settled within my bosom; and my soul Became to all the scenes of life a tomb, And seas of anguish through my being roll, And I did feel as when the torrents drear Pour from the clouds, and shades o'ercast the whole Space of the sky; nor born for many a tear, Knew I the youth of vanished years twice nine, When, Love, thou first didst in full power appear, When for all pleasure scorn alone was mine, Nor dear the quiet dawn or meadows green Or joyous radiance of the stars that shine. The love of glory was no more the queen Of this my soul, which it before did burn, For love of beauty reigned there all serene. To wonted studies no more thoughts I turn, And those unto my fancy idle seem For which all other thoughts I used to spurn. Ah! I myself another self must deem That so much love another love hath ta'en! We are, in truth, vain as an empty dream! Only my heart did please me, and we twain In an eternal dialogue immersed, I loved to sit, the guardian of my pain. Mine eyes bent on the ground or else inversed Within myself, on lovely face to gaze Or on a form unpleasing, never durst: For the unspotted image to erase That dwelt within my bosom, much I feared, As calm lakes ruffle when the zephyr plays. And the remorse that not enough I cheered My heart with joy, a thought so full of pain That pleasures past it maketh unendeared, Rankled within me in the days that wane, For shame could not my cloudless soul appal, Nor hue of indignation my brow stain. To Heaven, to you, ye gentle lovers all, I swear no evil will did in me strive, None could my fire base and ignoble call. That fire yet lives, my love is yet alive, Still in my thought the beauteous image reigns, Whence other joys than from the skies derive, I never felt; enough content remains.

THE LONELY BIRD.[8]

Upon the summit of the ancient tower Unto the land around, thou, lonely bird, Carollest sweetly till the evening hour, And through the vale thy melody is heard. Spring makes the gentle air Fragrant and bright, and animates the fields, Bidding the gazer in his heart rejoice. Hark to the lowing herds, the flocks that bleat, The other birds that full of joyaunce sing And in the air in happy circles meet, As though they homage to their fair time bring. Thou, full of thought, beholdest all aside, Nor carest to take wing With thy companions, scorning their delight. Thou singest, and the flower Of spring thus fadeth with thy life's sweet hour.

Ah me! how like to thine My habit doth appear! Pleasure and mirth, The happy offspring of our earlier age, And thou, Youth's brother, Love, Thou bitter sigh of our advancing years. I heed not; why, I cannot tell; but far From them I take my way; And like a hermit lone, Nor to my birthplace known, I see the spring of my existence die. This day that now is yielding to the night. Was in our hamlet ever festive held. Upon the air serene the bells resound And frequent firing of the distant guns, Arousing the deep echoes far and wide. In festival attire The youths and maidens go, Leaving their homes, upon the country paths, Rejoicing to be seen and to admire. I to this tower, remote From sight of men, repairing all alone, All joy and mirth postpone For other times; and as I gaze on high, The sun doth strike mine eye; Beyond the summit of yon mountain far, After the day serene, He sinketh to his rest, and seems to say That happy youth is leaving me for aye.

Thou, lonely warbler, coming to the close Of what the stars have granted thee to live, In truth of these thy ways Shalt not complain, for Nature on thee lays Thy fondness of repose. To me, if of old age The dreaded terrors stern I cannot from me turn, When to no heart this soul of mine can yearn, When void the earth will be, the future day More than the present, wearisome and grey: How will this lone mood seem? What shall I of myself in past years deem? Ah me! repent too late, And often gaze behind disconsolate.

[Footnote 8: i.e. "Passero Solitario" a bird very common in Italy, shy, and of lonely habits, with dark blue feathers on its breast. Its voice is most melodious.]

THE INFINITE.

I always loved this solitary hill And this green hedge that hides on every side The last and dim horizon from our view. But as I sit and gaze, a never-ending Space far beyond it and unearthly silence And deepest quiet to my thought I picture, And as with terror is my heart o'ercast With wondrous awe. And while I hear the wind Amid the green leaves rustling, I compare That silence infinite unto this sound, And to my mind eternity occurs, And all the vanished ages, and the present; Whose sound doth meet mine ear. And so in this Immensity my thought is drifted on, And to be wrecked on such a sea is sweet.

THE HOLIDAY NIGHT.

The night is fair, without a breath of wind, And on the roofs and gardens full of peace The moon reposes and reveals afar Each mountain all serene. O my beloved! The haunts of men are silent; in their homes Rarely doth glimmer a nocturnal lamp. Thou art asleep, by gentle slumber wrapped Within thy quiet room; no carking care Disturbs thy rest; nor dost thou know or think How deep a wound thou openedst in my heart. Thou art asleep; I sally forth to greet The firmament, to gaze on so benign, And Nature, mighty in her ancient ways, Who made me but for woe. "To thee be hope Denied," she said, "even hope; and in thine eyes No other light, save that of tears, may shine." This day was full of pleasure; from thy pastime Thou now dost take repose: perchance in dreams Those who pleased thee and whom thyself did please, Thou seest; but not I, for all my hopes, Occur unto thy fancy. I, meanwhile, I ask myself how much of life remains For me to live, and here upon the earth, Moaning and shuddering, do I throw me down In utter desolation. O ye days So full of horror for such early years! Ah, woe is me! Upon the road not far I hear a workman's solitary song; After his joyaunce, in late hours of night He is returning to his poor abode; And bitterly my heart is rent in twain When I consider all on earth doth pass And leaveth not a trace. Behold! the day Of joy is gone, and to its festive hours The day of toil succeeds, and time doth take Whate'er belongs to man. Where, where is now The pride of ancient nations? Where the fame Of our renowned forefathers, and the vast Dominion of old Rome, the clash of arms Resounding o'er the ocean and the earth? All now is peace and silence, and the world Is wrapped in rest, and speaks of them no more. In those beginning years, when eagerly We seek the festive day, I lay awake When it was over, tossing full of grief Upon my bed; and in late hours of night A song I heard upon the road without, Expiring in the distance by degrees, With equal sorrow rent my heart in twain.

TO THE MOON.

O fair and gracious Moon! Well I remember A year hath passed, since up this very hill I came so full of anguish to behold thee: And o'er yon forest thou didst shed thy beams, As at this moment, filling it with light. But veiled in mist, and tremulous with tears That hung upon my lashes, to mine eyes Thy radiance did appear, for dark with woe Was then my life, and is, nor will it change, O Moon, thou my adored! And yet I love To bear in mind and one by one to count The slow years of my sorrow. Oh, how sweet It is to youth, when hope has yet a long, And memory has but a brief, career, To dwell in thought on things for ever past, Though they be sad and though affliction live!

SOLITUDE.