The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 122

_Stran._ Since so far 240 You seem congenial, will you wear his features?

_Arn._ No. As you leave me choice, I am difficult.

If but to see the heroes I should ne'er Have seen else, on this side of the dim sh.o.r.e, Whence they float back before us.

_Stran._ Hence, Triumvir, Thy Cleopatra's waiting.

[_The shade of Antony disappears: another rises_.

_Arn._ Who is this?

Who truly looketh like a demiG.o.d, Blooming and bright, with golden hair, and stature, If not more high than mortal, yet immortal In all that nameless bearing of his limbs, 250 Which he wears as the Sun his rays--a something Which s.h.i.+nes from him, and yet is but the flas.h.i.+ng Emanation of a thing more glorious still.

Was _he e'er human only?_[217]

_Stran._ Let the earth speak, If there be atoms of him left, or even Of the more solid gold that formed his urn.

_Arn._ Who was this glory of mankind?

_Stran._ The shame Of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in war-- Demetrius the Macedonian, and Taker of cities.

_Arn._ Yet one shadow more. 260

_Stran._ (_addressing the shadow_). Get thee to Lamia's lap!

[_The shade of Demetrius Poliorcetes vanishes: another rises_.

I'll fit you still, Fear not, my Hunchback: if the shadows of That which existed please not your nice taste, I'll animate the ideal marble, till Your soul be reconciled to her new garment

_Arn._ Content! I will fix here.

_Stran._ I must commend Your choice. The G.o.dlike son of the sea-G.o.ddess, The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks As beautiful and clear as the amber waves Of rich Pactolus, rolled o'er sands of gold, 270 Softened by intervening crystal, and Rippled like flowing waters by the wind, All vowed to Sperchius[218] as they were--behold them!

And _him_--as he stood by Polixena, With sanctioned and with softened love, before The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride, With some remorse within for Hector slain And Priam weeping, mingled with deep pa.s.sion For the sweet downcast virgin, whose young hand Trembled in _his_ who slew her brother. So 280 He stood i' the temple! Look upon him as Greece looked her last upon her best, the instant Ere Paris' arrow flew.

_Arn._ I gaze upon him As if I were his soul, whose form shall soon Envelope mine.

_Stran._ You have done well. The greatest Deformity should only barter with The extremest beauty--if the proverb's true Of mortals, that Extremes meet.

_Arn._ Come! Be quick!

I am impatient.

_Stran._ As a youthful beauty Before her gla.s.s. _You both_ see what is not, 290 But dream it is what must be.

_Arn._ Must I wait?

_Stran._ No; that were a pity. But a word or two: His stature is twelve cubits; would you so far Outstep these times, and be a t.i.tan? Or (To talk canonically) wax a son Of Anak?

_Arn._ Why not?

_Stran._ Glorious ambition!

I love thee most in dwarfs! A mortal of Philistine stature would have gladly pared His own Goliath down to a slight David: But thou, my manikin, wouldst soar a show 300 Rather than hero. Thou shalt be indulged, If such be thy desire; and, yet, by being A little less removed from present men In figure, thou canst sway them more; for all Would rise against thee now, as if to hunt A new-found Mammoth; and their cursed engines, Their culverins, and so forth, would find way Through our friend's armour there, with greater ease Than the Adulterer's arrow through his heel Which Thetis had forgotten to baptize 310 In Styx.

_Arn._ Then let it be as thou deem'st best.

_Stran._ Thou shalt be beauteous as the thing thou seest, And strong as what it was, and----

_Arn._ I ask not For Valour, since Deformity is daring.[219]

It is its essence to o'ertake mankind By heart and soul, and make itself the equal-- Aye, the superior of the rest. There is A spur in its halt movements, to become All that the others cannot, in such things As still are free to both, to compensate 320 For stepdame Nature's avarice at first.

They woo with fearless deeds the smiles of fortune, And oft, like Timour the lame Tartar,[220] win them.

_Stran._ Well spoken! And thou doubtless wilt remain Formed as thou art. I may dismiss the mould Of shadow, which must turn to flesh, to incase This daring soul, which could achieve no less Without it.

_Arn._ Had no power presented me The possibility of change, I would Have done the best which spirit may to make 330 Its way with all Deformity's dull, deadly, Discouraging weight upon me, like a mountain, In feeling, on my heart as on my shoulders-- A hateful and unsightly molehill to The eyes of happier men. I would have looked On Beauty in that s.e.x which is the type Of all we know or dream of beautiful, Beyond the world they brighten, with a sigh-- Not of love, but despair; nor sought to win, Though to a heart all love, what could not love me 340 In turn, because of this vile crooked clog, Which makes me lonely. Nay, I could have borne It all, had not my mother spurned me from her.

The she-bear licks her cubs into a sort Of shape;--my Dam beheld my shape was hopeless.

Had she exposed me, like the Spartan, ere I knew the pa.s.sionate part of life, I had Been a clod of the valley,--happier nothing Than what I am. But even thus--the lowest, Ugliest, and meanest of mankind--what courage 350 And perseverance could have done, perchance Had made me something--as it has made heroes Of the same mould as mine. You lately saw me Master of my own life, and quick to quit it; And he who is so is the master of Whatever dreads to die.

_Stran._ Decide between What you have been, or will be.

_Arn._ I have done so.

You have opened brighter prospects to my eyes, And sweeter to my heart. As I am now, I might be feared--admired--respected--loved 360 Of all save those next to me, of whom I Would be beloved. As thou showest me A choice of forms, I take the one I view.

Haste! haste!

_Stran._ And what shall _I_ wear?

_Arn._ Surely, he Who can command all forms will choose the highest, Something superior even to that which was Pelides now before us. Perhaps _his_ Who slew him, that of Paris: or--still higher-- The Poet's G.o.d, clothed in such limbs as are Themselves a poetry.

_Stran._ Less will content me; 370 For I, too, love a change.

_Arn._ Your aspect is Dusky, but not uncomely.[221]

_Stran._ If I chose, I might be whiter; but I have a _penchant_ For black--it is so honest, and, besides, Can neither blush with shame nor pale with fear; But I have worn it long enough of late, And now I'll take your figure.

_Arn._ Mine!

_Stran._ Yes. You Shall change with Thetis' son, and I with Bertha, Your mother's offspring. People have their tastes; You have yours--I mine.

_Arn._ Despatch! despatch!

_Stran._ Even so. 380

[_The Stranger takes some earth and moulds it along the turf, and then addresses the phantom of Achilles_.

Beautiful shadow Of Thetis's boy!

Who sleeps in the meadow Whose gra.s.s grows o'er Troy: From the red earth, like Adam,[222]

Thy likeness I shape, As the Being who made him, Whose actions I ape.

Thou Clay, be all glowing, Till the Rose in his cheek 390 Be as fair as, when blowing, It wears its first streak!

Ye Violets, I scatter, Now turn into eyes!

And thou, suns.h.i.+ny Water, Of blood take the guise!

Let these Hyacinth boughs Be his long flowing hair, And wave o'er his brows, As thou wavest in air! 400 Let his heart be this marble I tear from the rock!

But his voice as the warble Of birds on yon oak!

Let his flesh be the purest Of mould, in which grew The Lily-root surest, And drank the best dew!

Let his limbs be the lightest Which clay can compound, 410 And his aspect the brightest On earth to be found!

Elements, near me, Be mingled and stirred, Know me, and hear me, And leap to my word!

Sunbeams, awaken This earth's animation![dc]

'Tis done! He hath taken His stand in creation! 420