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

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.