IX
The Gift to king Amphion
That walled a city with its melody 130
Was for belief no dream:[576]—thy skill, Arion!
Could humanise the creatures of the sea,
Where men were monsters.[577] A last grace he craves,
Leave for one chant;—the dulcet sound
Steals from the deck o'er willing waves, 135
And listening dolphins gather round.[578]
Self-cast, as with a desperate course,
'Mid that strange audience, he bestrides
A proud One docile as a managed horse;
And singing, while the accordant hand 140
Sweeps his harp, the Master rides;
So shall he touch at length a friendly strand,
And he, with his preserver, shine star-bright
In memory, through silent night.
X
The pipe of Pan, to shepherds 145
Couched in the shadow of Mænalian pines,[579]
Was passing sweet; the eyeballs of the leopards,
That in high triumph drew the Lord of vines,
How did they sparkle to the cymbal's clang!
While Fauns and Satyrs beat the ground 150
In cadence,[580]—and Silenus swang
This way and that, with wild-flowers crowned.[581]
To life, to life give back thine ear:
Ye who are longing to be rid
Of fable, though to truth subservient, hear 155
The little sprinkling of cold earth that fell
Echoed from the coffin-lid;
The convict's summons in the steeple's knell;
"The vain distress-gun,"[582] from a leeward shore,
Repeated-heard, and heard no more! 160
XI
For terror, joy, or pity,
Vast is the compass and the swell of notes:
From the babe's first cry to voice of regal city,
Rolling a solemn sea-like bass, that floats
Far as the woodlands—with the trill to blend 165
Of that shy songstress,[583] whose love-tale
Might tempt an angel to descend,
While hovering o'er the moonlight vale.
Ye wandering Utterances,[584] has earth no scheme,
No scale of moral music—to unite 170
Powers that survive but in the faintest dream[585]
Of memory?-O that ye[586] might stoop to bear
Chains, such precious chains of sight
As laboured minstrelsies through ages wear!
O for a balance fit the truth to tell 175
Of the Unsubstantial, pondered well!
XII
By one pervading spirit
Of tones and numbers all things are controlled,
As sages taught, where faith was found to merit
Initiation in that mystery old.[587][588] 180
The heavens, whose aspect makes our minds as still
As they themselves appear to be,
Innumerable voices fill
With everlasting harmony;
The towering headlands, crowned with mist, 185
Their feet among the billows, know
That Ocean is a mighty harmonist;[589]
Thy pinions, universal Air,
Ever waving to and fro,
Are delegates of harmony, and bear 190
Strains that support the Seasons in their round;
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
XIII