Tasso — In Prison
BY JAMES H. PERKINS .
Yes, I am chained: these dark and dreary walls
Must henceforth my horizon be; no light
Will ever come to cheer my aching balls,
Save 'tis the jailor's torch, flashing along
The firm-ribbed archway, as he comes at night
To deal me out my pittance. I was strong, —
Strong once, in mind and frame: 'tis gone, and now
I have no power; 'tis gone, I know not how:
It cannot be that servitude hath might
To rob the spirit of its heaven-born flight,
And plunge the mind in an eternal night?
Let me not think of such things, for my brain
Is weak, and when I think, upon my sight
Those chilling visions all crowd back again,
As to the murderer's eye the spirits of the slain.
Yes, I am chained: the mountain stream no more
Will bear me on its bosom; ne'er again
Shall I go down at evening to the shore,
To listen to the chafed ocean's roar;
Nor ever climb the mottled hill-side, when
The thunder clouds are gathering; nor repose
By the calm lake at evening, when the earth
Is hushed, to hear that music from above,
Which wins the sorrowing from his want and woes,
In the desponding breeds a holy mirth,
And in the hating breast calls forth a fount of love.
Yes, I am chained; but are not all men so?
Are they not chains, these passions frail yet foul?
Is not the body we are wedded to,
A clog upon the still upspringing soul?
Then am I freer than my tyrant lord,
For I have crush'd this body, I have poured
My spirit into that which I adored, —
My mother Nature; — fettered, I have broke
Free from the earthly bonds, and foul desires,
Which cling around us, as the parasite
Clings to and crushes in its poisonous spires
The strength and beauty of the heavenward oak.
I am a freeman! I can take my flight
With the Great Spirit, to the realms above,
And ride upon the whirlwind; I am part
And portion of Thee, Anthor of all love;
I shall be present whereso'er Thou art;
In the far west, at sunset; on the wave
When the storm waketh; in the bursting bud,
The flower, the withering leaf, the angry flood;
The birth, the bridal, and the field of blood;
In life and death, — the cradle and the grave.
Yes, I am chained: these dark and dreary walls
Must henceforth my horizon be; no light
Will ever come to cheer my aching balls,
Save 'tis the jailor's torch, flashing along
The firm-ribbed archway, as he comes at night
To deal me out my pittance. I was strong, —
Strong once, in mind and frame: 'tis gone, and now
I have no power; 'tis gone, I know not how:
It cannot be that servitude hath might
To rob the spirit of its heaven-born flight,
And plunge the mind in an eternal night?
Let me not think of such things, for my brain
Is weak, and when I think, upon my sight
Those chilling visions all crowd back again,
As to the murderer's eye the spirits of the slain.
Yes, I am chained: the mountain stream no more
Will bear me on its bosom; ne'er again
Shall I go down at evening to the shore,
To listen to the chafed ocean's roar;
Nor ever climb the mottled hill-side, when
The thunder clouds are gathering; nor repose
By the calm lake at evening, when the earth
Is hushed, to hear that music from above,
Which wins the sorrowing from his want and woes,
In the desponding breeds a holy mirth,
And in the hating breast calls forth a fount of love.
Yes, I am chained; but are not all men so?
Are they not chains, these passions frail yet foul?
Is not the body we are wedded to,
A clog upon the still upspringing soul?
Then am I freer than my tyrant lord,
For I have crush'd this body, I have poured
My spirit into that which I adored, —
My mother Nature; — fettered, I have broke
Free from the earthly bonds, and foul desires,
Which cling around us, as the parasite
Clings to and crushes in its poisonous spires
The strength and beauty of the heavenward oak.
I am a freeman! I can take my flight
With the Great Spirit, to the realms above,
And ride upon the whirlwind; I am part
And portion of Thee, Anthor of all love;
I shall be present whereso'er Thou art;
In the far west, at sunset; on the wave
When the storm waketh; in the bursting bud,
The flower, the withering leaf, the angry flood;
The birth, the bridal, and the field of blood;
In life and death, — the cradle and the grave.
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