Philosophy and science, and the springs And none have baffled, many fallen before me- Have been to me as rain unto the sands, Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes, Now to my task. Mysterious Agency! Ye spirits of the unbounded Universe! Whom I have sought in darkness and in light Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell In subtler essence-ye, to whom the tops And earth's and ocean's caves familiar things I call upon ye by the written charm Which gives me power upon you-Rise! appear! They come not yet.-Now by the voice of him If it be so.-Spirits of earth and air, Ye shall not thus elude me: by a power, [A pause. By the strong curse which is upon my soul, I do compel ye to my will.-Appear! [A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery; it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing.] Which the breath of twilight builds, And the summer's sun-set gilds With the azure and vermilion, Which is mix'd for my pavilion; Mortal-be thy wish avow'd! Voice of the SECOND SPIRIT. Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow. Around his waist are forests braced, The Avalanche in his hand; But ere it fall, that thundering ball Must pause for my command. The Glacier's cold and restless mass Moves onward day by day; But I am he who bids it pass, Or with its ice delay. I am the spirit of the place, Could make the mountain bow And quiver to his cavern'd base And what with me wouldst Thou? Voice of the THIRD SPIRIT. In the blue depth of the waters, Like the storm on the surface O'er my calm Hall of Coral To the Spirit of Ocean FOURTH SPIRIT. Where the slumbering earthquake Lies pillow'd on fire, And the lakes of bitumen Rise boilingly higher; Where the roots of the Andes Strike deep in the earth, As their summits to heaven Shoot soaringly forth; I have quitted my birthplace, Thy spell hath subdued me, FIFTH SPIRIT. I am the Rider of the wind, The hurricane I left behind Is yet with lightning warm; The fleet I met sail'd well, and yet SIXTH SPIRIT. My dwelling is the shadow of the night, Why doth thy magic torture me with light? |