Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/226



Could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans They felt, but heard not, for the solid roar Of thunderous waterfalls and torrents hoarse, Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where. Crag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem'd Ever as if just rising from a sleep, Forehead to forehead held their monstrous horns; And thus in thousand hugest phantasies Made a fit roofing to this nest of woe. Instead of thrones, hard flint they sat upon, Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge Stubborn'd with iron. All were not assembled: Some chain'd in torture, and some wandering. Cœus, and Gyges, and Briareüs, Typhon, and Dolor, and Porphyrion, With many more, the brawniest in assault, Were pent in legions of laborious breath; Dungeon'd in opaque element to keep Their clenched teeth still clench'd, and all their limbs Lock'd up like veins of metal, cramp'd and screw'd; Without a motion, save of their big hearts Heaving in pain, and horribly convulsed With sanguine, feverous, boiling gurge of pulse. Mnemosyne was straying in the world; Far from her moon had Phœbe wander'd; And many else were free to roam abroad, But for the main, here found they covert drear. Scarce images of life, one here, one there, Lay vast and edgeways; like a dismal cirque Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor, When the chill rain begins at shut of eve, In dull November, and their chancel vault,