[_A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery: it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing._]
Mortal! to thy bidding bowed, 50 From my mansion in the cloud, Which the breath of Twilight builds, And the Summer's sunset gilds With the azure and vermilion, Which is mixed for my pavilion;[ar] Though thy quest may be forbidden, On a star-beam I have ridden, To thine adjuration bowed: Mortal--be thy wish avowed!
Mont Blanc is the Monarch of mountains; 60 They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a Diadem of snow. Around his waist are forests braced, The Avalanche in his hand; But ere it fall, that thundering ball Must pause for my command. The Glacier's cold and restless mass Moves onward day by day; But I am he who bids it pass, 70 Or with its ice delay.[as] I am the Spirit of the place, Could make the mountain bow And quiver to his caverned base-- And what with me would'st _Thou?_
In the blue depth of the waters, Where the wave hath no strife, Where the Wind is a stranger, And the Sea-snake hath life, Where the Mermaid is decking 80 Her green hair with shells, Like the storm on the surface Came the sound of thy spells; O'er my calm Hall of Coral The deep Echo rolled-- To the Spirit of Ocean Thy wishes unfold!
Where the slumbering Earthquake Lies pillowed on fire, And the lakes of bitumen 90 Rise boilingly higher; Where the roots of the Andes Strike deep in the earth, As their summits to heaven Shoot soaringly forth; I have quitted my birthplace, Thy bidding to bide-- Thy spell hath subdued me, Thy will be my guide!
I am the Rider of the wind, 100 The Stirrer of the storm; The hurricane I left behind Is yet with lightning warm; To speed to thee, o'er shore and sea I swept upon the blast: The fleet I met sailed well--and yet 'Twill sink ere night be past.
My dwelling is the shadow of the Night, Why doth thy magic torture me with light?
The Star which rules thy destiny no 110 Was ruled, ere earth began, by me: It was a World as fresh and fair As e'er revolved round Sun in air; Its course was free and regular, Space bosomed not a lovelier star. The Hour arrived--and it became A wandering mass of shapeless flame, A pathless Comet, and a curse, The menace of the Universe; Still rolling on with innate force, 120 Without a sphere, without a course, A bright deformity on high, The monster of the upper sky! And Thou! beneath its influence born-- Thou worm! whom I obey and scorn-- Forced by a Power (which is not thine, And lent thee but to make thee mine) For this brief moment to descend, Where these weak Spirits round thee bend And parley with a thing like thee-- 130 What would'st thou, Child of Clay! with me?[112]