Al Aaraaf: Part 2
PART
II
High
on
a
mountain
of
enamell'd
head-
Such
as
the
drowsy
shepherd
on
his
bed
Of
giant
pasturage
lying
at
his
ease,
Raising
his
heavy
eyelid,
starts
and
sees
With
many
a
mutter'd
"hope
to
be
forgiven"
What
time
the
moon
is
quadrated
in
Heaven-
Of
rosy
head
that,
towering
far
away
Into
the
sunlit
ether,
caught
the
ray
Of
sunken
suns
at
eve-
at
noon
of
night,
While
the
moon
danc'd
with
the
fair
stranger
light-
Uprear'd
upon
such
height
arose
a
pile
Of
gorgeous
columns
on
th'
unburthen'd
air,
Flashing
from
Parian
marble
that
twin
smile
Far
down
upon
the
wave
that
sparkled
there,
And
nursled
the
young
mountain
in
its
lair.
Of
molten
stars
their
pavement,
such
as
fall
Thro'
the
ebon
air,
besilvering
the
pall
Of
their
own
dissolution,
while
they
die-
Adorning
then
the
dwellings
of
the
sky.
A
dome,
by
linked
light
from
Heaven
let
down,
Sat
gently
on
these
columns
as
a
crown-
A
window
of
one
circular
diamond,
there,
Look'd
out
above
into
the
purple
air,
And
rays
from
God
shot
down
that
meteor
chain
And
hallow'd
all
the
beauty
twice
again,
Save,
when,
between
th'
empyrean
and
that
ring,
Some
eager
spirit
Flapp'd
his
dusky
wing.
But
on
the
pillars
Seraph
eyes
have
seen
The
dimness
of
this
world:
that
greyish
green
That
Nature
loves
the
best
Beauty's
grave
Lurk'd
in
each
cornice,
round
each
architrave-
And
every
sculptur'd
cherub
thereabout
That
from
his
marble
dwelling
peered
out,
Seem'd
earthly
in
the
shadow
of
his
niche-
Achaian
statues
in
a
world
so
rich!
Friezes
from
Tadmor
and
Persepolis-
From
Balbec,
and
the
stilly,
clear
abyss
Of
beautiful
Gomorrah!
O,
the
wave
Is
now
upon
thee-
but
too
late
to
save!
Sound
loves
to
revel
in
a
summer
night:
Witness
the
murmur
of
the
grey
twilight
That
stole
upon
the
ear,
in
Eyraco,
Of
many
a
wild
star-gazer
long
ago-
That
stealeth
ever
on
the
ear
of
him
Who,
musing,
gazeth
on
the
distance
dim,
And
sees
the
darkness
coming
as
a
cloud-
Is
not
its
form-
its
voice-
most
palpable
and
loud?
But
what
is
this?-
it
cometh,
and
it
brings
A
music
with
it-
'tis
the
rush
of
wings-
A
pause-
and
then
a
sweeping,
falling
strain
And
Nesace
is
in
her
halls
again.
From
the
wild
energy
of
wanton
haste
Her
cheeks
were
flushing,
and
her
lips
apart;
And
zone
that
clung
around
her
gentle
waist
Had
burst
beneath
the
heaving
of
her
heart.
Within
the
centre
of
that
hall
to
breathe,
She
paused
and
panted,
Zanthe!
all
beneath,
The
fairy
light
that
kiss'd
her
golden
hair
And
long'd
to
rest,
yet
could
but
sparkle
there.
Young
flowers
were
whispering
in
melody
To
happy
flowers
that
night-
and
tree
to
tree;
Fountains
were
gushing
music
as
they
fell
In
many
a
star-lit
grove,
or
moon-lit
dell;
Yet
silence
came
upon
material
things-
Fair
flowers,
bright
waterfalls
and
angel
wings-
And
sound
alone
that
from
the
spirit
sprang
Bore
burthen
to
the
charm
the
maiden
sang:
"'Neath
the
blue-bell
or
streamer-
Or
tufted
wild
spray
That
keeps,
from
the
dreamer,
The
moonbeam
away-
Bright
beings!
that
ponder,
With
half
closing
eyes,
On
the
stars
which
your
wonder
Hath
drawn
from
the
skies,
Till
they
glance
thro'
the
shade,
and
Come
down
to
your
brow
Like-
eyes
of
the
maiden
Who
calls
on
you
now-
Arise!
from
your
dreaming
In
violet
bowers,
To
duty
beseeming
These
star-litten
hours-
And
shake
from
your
tresses
Encumber'd
with
dew
The
breath
of
those
kisses
That
cumber
them
too-
(O!
how,
without
you,
Love!
Could
angels
be
blest?)
Those
kisses
of
true
Love
That
lull'd
ye
to
rest!
Up!-
shake
from
your
wing
Each
hindering
thing:
The
dew
of
the
night-
It
would
weigh
down
your
flight
And
true
love
caresses-
O,
leave
them
apart!
They
are
light
on
the
tresses,
But
lead
on
the
heart.
Ligeia!
Ligeia!
My
beautiful
one!
Whose
harshest
idea
Will
to
melody
run,
O!
is
it
thy
will
On
the
breezes
to
toss?
Or,
capriciously
still,
Like
the
lone
Albatros,
Incumbent
on
night
(As
she
on
the
air)
To
keep
watch
with
delight
On
the
harmony
there?
Ligeia!
wherever
Thy
image
may
be,
No
magic
shall
sever
Thy
music
from
thee.
Thou
hast
bound
many
eyes
In
a
dreamy
sleep-
But
the
strains
still
arise
Which
thy
vigilance
keep-
The
sound
of
the
rain,
Which
leaps
down
to
the
flower-
And
dances
again
In
the
rhythm
of
the
shower-
The
murmur
that
springs
From
the
growing
of
grass
Are
the
music
of
things-
But
are
modell'd,
alas!-
Away,
then,
my
dearest,
Oh!
hie
thee
away
To
the
springs
that
lie
clearest
Beneath
the
moon-ray-
To
lone
lake
that
smiles,
In
its
dream
of
deep
rest,
At
the
many
star-isles
That
enjewel
its
breast-
Where
wild
flowers,
creeping,
Have
mingled
their
shade,
On
its
margin
is
sleeping
Full
many
a
maid-
Some
have
left
the
cool
glade,
and
Have
slept
with
the
bee-
Arouse
them,
my
maiden,
On
moorland
and
lea-
Go!
breathe
on
their
slumber,
All
softly
in
ear,
Thy
musical
number
They
slumbered
to
hear-
For
what
can
awaken
An
angel
so
soon,
Whose
sleep
hath
been
taken
Beneath
the
cold
moon,
As
the
spell
which
no
slumber
Of
witchery
may
test,
The
rhythmical
number
Which
lull'd
him
to
rest?"
Spirits
in
wing,
and
angels
to
the
view,
A
thousand
seraphs
burst
th'
Empyrean
thro',
Young
dreams
still
hovering
on
their
drowsy
flight-
Seraphs
in
all
but
"Knowledge,"
the
keen
light
That
fell,
refracted,
thro'
thy
bounds,
afar,
O
Death!
from
eye
of
God
upon
that
star:
Sweet
was
that
error-
sweeter
still
that
death-
Sweet
was
that
error-
even
with
us
the
breath
Of
Science
dims
the
mirror
of
our
joy-
To
them
'twere
the
Simoom,
and
would
destroy-
For
what
(to
them)
availeth
it
to
know
That
Truth
is
Falsehood-
or
that
Bliss
is
Woe?
Sweet
was
their
death-
with
them
to
die
was
rife
With
the
last
ecstasy
of
satiate
life-
Beyond
that
death
no
immortality-
But
sleep
that
pondereth
and
is
not
"to
be'!-
And
there-
oh!
may
my
weary
spirit
dwell-
Apart
from
Heaven's
Eternity-
and
yet
how
far
from
Hell!
What
guilty
spirit,
in
what
shrubbery
dim,
Heard
not
the
stirring
summons
of
that
hymn?
But
two:
they
fell:
for
Heaven
no
grace
imparts
To
those
who
hear
not
for
their
beating
hearts.
A
maiden-angel
and
her
seraph-lover-
O!
where
(and
ye
may
seek
the
wide
skies
over)
Was
Love,
the
blind,
near
sober
Duty
known?
Unguided
Love
hath
fallen-
'mid
"tears
of
perfect
moan."
He
was
a
goodly
spirit-
he
who
fell:
A
wanderer
by
moss-y-mantled
well-
A
gazer
on
the
lights
that
shine
above-
A
dreamer
in
the
moonbeam
by
his
love:
What
wonder?
for
each
star
is
eye-like
there,
And
looks
so
sweetly
down
on
Beauty's
hair-
And
they,
and
ev'ry
mossy
spring
were
holy
To
his
love-haunted
heart
and
melancholy.
The
night
had
found
(to
him
a
night
of
woe)
Upon
a
mountain
crag,
young
Angelo-
Beetling
it
bends
athwart
the
solemn
sky,
And
scowls
on
starry
worlds
that
down
beneath
it
lie.
Here
sat
he
with
his
love-
his
dark
eye
bent
With
eagle
gaze
along
the
firmament:
Now
turn'd
it
upon
her-
but
ever
then
It
trembled
to
the
orb
of
EARTH
again.
"Ianthe,
dearest,
see-
how
dim
that
ray!
How
lovely
'tis
to
look
so
far
away!
She
seem'd
not
thus
upon
that
autumn
eve
I
left
her
gorgeous
halls-
nor
mourn'd
to
leave.
That
eve-
that
eve-
I
should
remember
well-
The
sun-ray
dropp'd
in
Lemnos,
with
a
spell
On
th'
arabesque
carving
of
a
gilded
hall
Wherein
I
sate,
and
on
the
draperied
wall-
And
on
my
eyelids-
O
the
heavy
light!
How
drowsily
it
weigh'd
them
into
night!
On
flowers,
before,
and
mist,
and
love
they
ran
With
Persian
Saadi
in
his
Gulistan:
But
O
that
light!-
I
slumber'd-
Death,
the
while,
Stole
o'er
my
senses
in
that
lovely
isle
So
softly
that
no
single
silken
hair
Awoke
that
slept-
or
knew
that
he
was
there.
"The
last
spot
of
Earth's
orb
I
trod
upon
Was
a
proud
temple
call'd
the
Parthenon;
More
beauty
clung
around
her
column'd
wall
Than
ev'n
thy
glowing
bosom
beats
withal,
And
when
old
Time
my
wing
did
disenthral
Thence
sprang
I-
as
the
eagle
from
his
tower,
And
years
I
left
behind
me
in
an
hour.
What
time
upon
her
airy
bounds
I
hung,
One
half
the
garden
of
her
globe
was
flung
Unrolling
as
a
chart
unto
my
view-
Tenantless
cities
of
the
desert
too!
Ianthe,
beauty
crowded
on
me
then,
And
half
I
wish'd
to
be
again
of
men."
"My
Angelo!
and
why
of
them
to
be?
A
brighter
dwelling-place
is
here
for
thee-
And
greener
fields
than
in
yon
world
above,
And
woman's
loveliness-
and
passionate
love."
"But,
list,
Ianthe!
when
the
air
so
soft
Fail'd,
as
my
pennon'd
spirit
leapt
aloft,
Perhaps
my
brain
grew
dizzy-
but
the
world
I
left
so
late
was
into
chaos
hurl'd-
Sprang
from
her
station,
on
the
winds
apart.
And
roll'd,
a
flame,
the
fiery
Heaven
athwart.
Methought,
my
sweet
one,
then
I
ceased
to
soar
And
fell-
not
swiftly
as
I
rose
before,
But
with
a
downward,
tremulous
motion
thro'
Light,
brazen
rays,
this
golden
star
unto!
Nor
long
the
measure
of
my
falling
hours,
For
nearest
of
all
stars
was
thine
to
ours-
Dread
star!
that
came,
amid
a
night
of
mirth,
A
red
Daedalion
on
the
timid
Earth."
"We
came-
and
to
thy
Earth-
but
not
to
us
Be
given
our
lady's
bidding
to
discuss:
We
came,
my
love;
around,
above,
below,
Gay
fire-fly
of
the
night
we
come
and
go,
Nor
ask
a
reason
save
the
angel-nod
She
grants
to
us,
as
granted
by
her
God-
But,
Angelo,
than
thine
grey
Time
unfurl'd
Never
his
fairy
wing
O'er
fairier
world!
Dim
was
its
little
disk,
and
angel
eyes
Alone
could
see
the
phantom
in
the
skies,
When
first
Al
Aaraaf
knew
her
course
to
be
Headlong
thitherward
o'er
the
starry
sea-
But
when
its
glory
swell'd
upon
the
sky,
As
glowing
Beauty's
bust
beneath
man's
eye,
We
paused
before
the
heritage
of
men,
And
thy
star
trembled-
as
doth
Beauty
then!"
Thus,
in
discourse,
the
lovers
whiled
away
The
night
that
waned
and
waned
and
brought
no
day.
They
fell:
for
Heaven
to
them
no
hope
imparts
Who
hear
not
for
the
beating
of
their
hearts.
