Poetry Corner
From the guy who put the "goth" into gothic, I give you...
Darkness George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream,The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the starsDid wander darkling in the eternal space,Rayless, and pathless; and the icy earthSwung blind and blackening in the moonless air 5Morn came and went-and came, and brought no day,And men forgot their passions in the dreadOf this their desolation: and all heartsWere chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:And they did live by watchfires-and the thrones, 10The palaces of crowned kings-the huts,The habitations of all things which dwell,Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,And men were gathered round their blazing homesTo look once more into each other’s face 15Happy were those who dwelt within the eyeOf the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch:A fearful hope was all the world contained;Forests were set on fire-but hour by hourThey fell and faded-and the crackling trunks 20Extinguish’d with a crash-and all was black.The brows of men by the despairing lightWore an unearthly aspect, as by fitsThe flashes fell upon them; some lay downAnd hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest 25Their chins upon their clenched hands and smiled;And others hurried to and fro, and fedTheir funeral piles with fuel, and look’d upWith mad disquietude on the dull sky,The pall of a past world; and then again 30With curses cast them down upon the dust,And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d,And, terrified, did flutter on the ground.And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutesCame tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d 35And twined themselves among the multitude,Hissing, but stingless-they were slain for food:And War, which for a moment was no more,Did glut himself again:-a meal was boughtWith blood, and each sate sullenly apart 40Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;All earth was but one thought-and that was deathImmediate and inglorious; and the pangOf famine fed upon all entrails-menDied, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; 45The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,And he was faithful to a corse, and keptThe birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead 50Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,But with a piteous and perpetual moan,And a quick desolate cry, licking the handWhich answer’d not with a caress-he died.The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two 55Of an enormous city did survive,And they were enemies: they met besideThe dying embers of an altar-place,Where had been heap’d a mass of holy thingsFor an unholy usage; they raked up, 60And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton handsThe feeble ashes, and their feeble breathBlew for a little life, and made a flameWhich was a mockery; then they lifted upTheir eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld 65Each other’s aspects-saw and shriek’d, and died-Ev’n of their mutual hideousness they died,Unknowing who he was upon whose browFamine had written Fiend. The world was void,The populous, and the powerful was a lump, 70Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless,A lump of death-a chaos of hard clay.The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, 75And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp’d,They slept on the abyss without a surge-The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air, 80And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no needOf aid from them-She was the Universe!
Darkness George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream,The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the starsDid wander darkling in the eternal space,Rayless, and pathless; and the icy earthSwung blind and blackening in the moonless air 5Morn came and went-and came, and brought no day,And men forgot their passions in the dreadOf this their desolation: and all heartsWere chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:And they did live by watchfires-and the thrones, 10The palaces of crowned kings-the huts,The habitations of all things which dwell,Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,And men were gathered round their blazing homesTo look once more into each other’s face 15Happy were those who dwelt within the eyeOf the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch:A fearful hope was all the world contained;Forests were set on fire-but hour by hourThey fell and faded-and the crackling trunks 20Extinguish’d with a crash-and all was black.The brows of men by the despairing lightWore an unearthly aspect, as by fitsThe flashes fell upon them; some lay downAnd hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest 25Their chins upon their clenched hands and smiled;And others hurried to and fro, and fedTheir funeral piles with fuel, and look’d upWith mad disquietude on the dull sky,The pall of a past world; and then again 30With curses cast them down upon the dust,And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d,And, terrified, did flutter on the ground.And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutesCame tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d 35And twined themselves among the multitude,Hissing, but stingless-they were slain for food:And War, which for a moment was no more,Did glut himself again:-a meal was boughtWith blood, and each sate sullenly apart 40Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;All earth was but one thought-and that was deathImmediate and inglorious; and the pangOf famine fed upon all entrails-menDied, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; 45The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,And he was faithful to a corse, and keptThe birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead 50Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,But with a piteous and perpetual moan,And a quick desolate cry, licking the handWhich answer’d not with a caress-he died.The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two 55Of an enormous city did survive,And they were enemies: they met besideThe dying embers of an altar-place,Where had been heap’d a mass of holy thingsFor an unholy usage; they raked up, 60And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton handsThe feeble ashes, and their feeble breathBlew for a little life, and made a flameWhich was a mockery; then they lifted upTheir eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld 65Each other’s aspects-saw and shriek’d, and died-Ev’n of their mutual hideousness they died,Unknowing who he was upon whose browFamine had written Fiend. The world was void,The populous, and the powerful was a lump, 70Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless,A lump of death-a chaos of hard clay.The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, 75And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp’d,They slept on the abyss without a surge-The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air, 80And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no needOf aid from them-She was the Universe!