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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=407943" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Part of an Irregular Fragment</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rise, winds of night! relentless tempests, rise!<br>Rush from the troubled clouds, and o'er me roll!<br>In this chill pause a deeper horror lies,<br>A wilder fear appals my shudd'ring soul!--<br>'Twas on this day,* this hour accurst,<br>That Nature, starting from repose,<br>Heard the dire shrieks of murder burst--<br>From infant innocence they rose,--<br>And shook these solemn towers!<br>I shudd'ring pass that fatal room,<br>For ages wrapt in central gloom!--<br>I shudd'ring pass that iron door,<br>Which fate perchance unlocks no more;<br>Death, smear'd with blood, o'er the dark portal lowers!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How fearfully my step resounds<br>Along these lonely bounds!--<br>Spare, savage blast! the taper's quiv'ring fires;<br>Deep in these gath'ring shades its flame expires.<br>Ye host of heaven! the door recedes--<br>It mocks my grasp--what unseen hands<br>Have burst its iron bands?<br>No mortal force this gate unbarr'd,<br>Where danger lives, which terrors guard--<br>Dread powers! its screaming hinges close<br>On this dire scene of impious deeds--<br>My feet are fix'd!--Dismay has bound<br>My step on this polluted ground!<br>But lo! the pitying moon a line of light<br>Athwart the horrid darkness dimly throws,<br>And from yon grated window chases night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye visions that before me roll,<br>That freeze my blood, that shake my soul!<br>Are ye the phantoms of a dream?--<br>Pale spectres! are ye what ye seem?--<br>They glide more near!<br>Their forms unfold!<br>Fix'd are their eyes--on me they bend--<br>Their glaring look is cold!<br>And hark!--I hear<br>Sounds that the throbbing pulse of life suspend:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;No wild illusion cheats thy sight<br>With shapes that only live in night--<br>Mark the native glories spread<br>Around my bleeding brow!<br>The crown of Albion wreath'd my head,<br>When my father shook his spear,<br>When his banner sought the skies,<br>Her baffled host recoil'd with fear,<br>Nor turn'd their shrinking eyes.<br>Soon as the daring eagle springs,<br>To bask in heav'n's empyreal light,<br>The vultures ply their baleful wings,<br>A cloud of deep'ning colour marks their flight,<br>Staining the golden day:--<br>But see! amid the rav'nous brood<br>A bird of fiercer aspect soar--<br>The spirits of a rival race* <br>Hang on the noxious blast, and trace<br>With gloomy joy his destin'd prey;<br>Inflame th' ambitious wish that thirsts for blood,<br>And plunge his talons deep in kindred gore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>V. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;View the stern form that hovers nigh:<br>Fierce rolls his dauntless eye,<br>In scorn of hideous death;<br>Till starting at a brother's* name,<br>Horror shrinks his glowing frame;<br>Locks the half-utter'd groan,<br>And chills the parting breath:--<br>Astonish'd Nature heav'd a moan!<br>When her affrighted eye beheld the hands<br>She form'd to cherish, rend her holy bands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VI. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Look where a royal infant+ kneels;<br>Shrieking, and agoniz'd with fear,<br>He sees the dagger pointed near<br>A much-lov'd brother's+ breast,<br>And tells an absent mother all he feels!<br>His eager eye he casts around,--<br>Where shall her guardian form be found,<br>On which his eager eye would rest?<br>On her he calls in accents wild,<br>And wonders why her step is slow<br>To save her suff'ring child!<br>Rob'd in the regal garb, his brother stands<br>In more majestic woe,<br>And meets the impious stroke with bosom bare,<br>Then fearless grasps the murd'rer's hands,<br>And asks the minister of hell to spare<br>The child, whose feeble arms sustain<br>His bleeding form, from cruel death.<br>In vain fraternal fondness pleads,<br>For cold is now his livid cheek,<br>And cold his last, expiring breath;<br>And now, with aspect meek,<br>The infant lifts its mournful eye,<br>And asks, with trembling voice, to die,<br>If death will cure his heaving heart of pain!<br>His heaving heart now bleeds!--<br>Foul tyrant! o'er the gilded hour<br>That beams with all the blaze of power,<br>Remorse shall spread her thickest shroud!<br>The furies in thy tortur'd ear<br>Shall howl, with curses deep and loud,<br>And wake distracting fear!<br>I see the ghastly spectre rise,<br>Whose blood is cold, whose hollow eyes<br>Seem from his head to start!--<br>With upright hair and shiv'ring heart,<br>Dark o'er thy midnight couch he bends,<br>And clasps thy shrinking frame, thy impious spirit rends.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now his thrilling accents die--<br>His shape eludes my searching eye.<br>But who is he,* convuls'd with pain,<br>That writhes in every swelling vein?<br>Yet in so deep, so wild a groan,<br>A sharper anguish seems to live<br>Than life's expiring pang can give!--<br>He dies deserted, and alone.<br>If pity can allay thy woes,<br>Sad spirit, they shall find repose:<br>Thy friend, thy long-lov'd friend is near;<br>He comes to pour the parting tear,<br>He comes to catch the parting breath.<br>Ah, heaven! no melting look he wears,<br>His alter'd eye with vengeance glares;<br>Each frantic passion at his soul;<br>'Tis he has dash'd that venom'd bowl<br>With agony and death!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VIII. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But whence arose that solemn call?<br>Yon bloody phantom waves his hand,<br>And beckons me to deeper gloom!<br>Rest, troubled form! I come--<br>Some unknown power my step impels<br>To horror's secret cells.<br>&quot;For thee I raise this sable pall,<br>It shrouds a ghastly band:<br>Stretch'd beneath, thy eye shall trace<br>A mangled regal race!<br>A thousand suns have roll'd, since light<br>Rush'd on their solid night!<br>See, o'er that tender frame grim Famine hangs,<br>And mocks a mother's pangs!<br>The last, last drop which warm'd her veins<br>That meagre infant drains,<br>Then gnaws her fond, sustaining breast!<br>Stretch'd on her feeble knees, behold<br>Another victim sinks to lasting rest;<br>Another yet her matron arms would fold,<br>Who strives to reach her matron arms in vain--<br>Too weak her wasted form to raise,<br>On him she bends her eager gaze;<br>She sees the soft imploring eye<br>That asks her dear embrace, the cure of pain--<br>She sees her child at distance die!<br>But now her stedfast heart can bear,<br>Unmov'd, the pressure of despair.<br>When first the winds of winter urge their course<br>O'er the pure stream, whose current smoothly glides,<br>The heaving river swells its troubled tides;<br>But when the bitter blast with keener force<br>O'er the high wave an icy fetter throws,<br>The harden'd wave is fix'd in dead repose.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IX. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Say, who that hoary form? alone he stands,<br>And meekly lifts his wither'd hands;<br>His white beard streams with blood!<br>I see him with a smile deride<br>The wounds that pierce his shrivell'd side,<br>Whence flows a purple flood;<br>But sudden pangs his bosom tear--<br>On one big drop, of deeper dye,<br>I see him fix his haggard eye<br>In dark, and wild despair!<br>That sanguine drop which wakes his woe,<br>Say, Spirit! whence its source?&quot;<br>&quot;Ask no more its source to know--<br>Ne'er shall mortal eye explore<br>Whence flow'd that drop of human gore,<br>Till the starting dead shall rise,<br>Unchain'd from earth, and mount the skies,<br>And Time shall end his fated course.<br>Now th' unfathom'd depth behold:<br>Look but once--a second glance<br>Wraps a heart of human mould<br>In death's eternal trance!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>X. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;That shapeless phantom, sinking slow<br>Deep down the vast abyss below,<br>Darts thro' the mists that shroud his frame,<br>A horror, nature hates to name!<br>Mortal, could thine eyes behold<br>All those sullen mists enfold,<br>Thy sinews at the sight accurst<br>Would wither, and thy heart-strings burst;<br>Death would grasp with icy hand,<br>And drag thee to our grizly band!<br>Away! the sable pall I spread,<br>And give to rest th' unquiet dead;<br>Haste! ere its horrid shroud enclose<br>Thy form, benumb'd with wild affright,<br>And plunge thee far through wastes of night,<br>In yon black gulph's abhorr'd repose!&quot;<br>As, starting at each step, I fly,<br>Why backward turns my frantic eye,<br>That closing portal past?<br>Two sullen shades, half-seen, advance!<br>On me, a blasting look they cast,<br>And fix my view with dang'rous spells,<br>Where burning frenzy dwells!--<br>Again! their vengeful look--and now a speechless--</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Helen+Maria+Williams">Helen Maria Williams</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=407943" data-title="Part of an Irregular Fragment de Helen Maria Williams" data-description="I. 

Rise, winds of night! relentless tempests, rise!
Rush from the troubled clouds, and o'er me roll!
In this chill pause a deeper horror lies,
A wilder fear appals my shudd'ring soul!--
'Twas on this day,* this hour accurst,
That Nature, startin..."></div>
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