Page:Shelley, a poem, with other writings (Thomson, Debell).djvu/26

8 A glorious voice of glorious inspiration; A voice of rapid rapture so intense That in its musical intoxication The Truth arrayed with such an affluence Of Beauty half-escaped the ravished sense,— A sun scarce visible in its own shine, A god forgotten in his gorgeous shrine.

A voice divinely sweet, a voice no less Divinely sad; for all the maddening jar Of all the wide world's sin and wretchedness Swelled round its music, as when round a star Black storm-clouds gather and its white light mar: Pure music is pure bliss in heaven alone; Earth's air transmutes it to melodious moan. The lustrum passed. The vultures of despair And fierce ambition ceased not to consume The heart of him rock-bound, who failed to bear With Titan-patience his Promethean doom— Lacking the Titan's conscience. When the tomb Had held him but a little while in peace, I heard the singing voice for ever cease.

And then once more the Vision filled my soul Of universal Æther, and the spheres Whose marshalled myriads through its silence roll With life and light and music; while the years, Heavy with anguish, blind with blood and tears, Pant after them, exhausted one by one Till the last heir of Time shall sink foredone.