MY wheel turns and I turn unendingly Amid the wreck of souls to whom remain No hope, no wish but one -- the wish to die, The longing of the dead to die again. The sights I see would blast an earthly eye, The horrors I hear no tongue may put in words; And all around me roars the rage of gods -- Turning eternally in endless pain. Above me a great blackness, like a cloud At midnight, swaying and breaking into bulks That hurl across each other as a wind Drives mass on mass against the thunderstorm. Anon it opens cavern-deep, and shows Behind, dim gulfs of greater dark; anon It closes inward, smoothly domed -- no sound But never still. Under me lies the floor Of Hades, ribbed and ridged and chiseled out In curious figures, like the sand of the sea. And now and then it breaks, and Tartarus Flares forth in flashes of pale flame, and screams Come from beneath, and crowds of shuddering sparks Rush upward as in terror; then a surge Of billowy smoke, tinged red with fires below, Floats up and merges in the gloom above, And the crack bites its lip, and the wails are hushed, And Hades turns to its own toil. I look Upward, and wonder where our old earth lies, How far beyond that veil of angry dark -- Farther I know than heaven above the earth! Yet I am linked, bound by some deathless chain To earth and life. The long full summer-time Faints into autumn, and the wintry blast Howls down the wold, but wakes no answering sign In these grim skies -- and yet I feel that frost Deep down within myself. I feel the spring Steal onward with warm winds and blossoming smells, Pale baby-leaves and breaths of hidden bloom. Somewhere far, far above me, violets Grope down their roots in the soft earth, and turn Their tiny faces to the sun, and smile Through tears of dew -- I trod on violets once! Somewhere a wind stirs in the cypresses, And the owl hoots and the moon pales -- I once Held death in scorn, a thing too far to fear. Somewhere broad roses open wide at eve, Bare their rich bosoms to the breeze that faints Caressing them, and shake their leaves and laugh, And all the dimness maddens like new wine, And nymphs peep out between the boughs, and songs Come faint across dark water -- oh, to be One moment what I once was! Oh, to hear The whisper of the woods, and see the thorn Snow down her sweetness on the green, and feel The music of the spring beat in my blood, And the fresh odors leap into my brain, And know naught ill, a child with a child's eyes One moment! Once I deemed myself a god, And now -- my wheel turns on unendingly Amid the wreck of souls to whom remain Nor life nor death -- nor death nor life have I, The very spouse and paramour of pain! The rage of gods! -- What are the gods to me? I have moved among the gods a mortal man, Dwelt with them on Olympus, felt the clouds Bend to my footstep, seen the sun flash by, A blinding car with Helios at the reins. I have seen the moon close by me in the night, And heard the singing of the stars at dawn, I half awake among the slumbering gods. Do I not know them wholly? Ah, my Queen Of Heaven, one deathless moment mine in spite Of law and gods and Fate -- have I not known? How amber-bright shine all those distant days Even to my dizzy thought! I seem to see Amid that eddying blackness overhead Olympus with its floors of gold, its walls Of amethyst and opal, shining clear In the sweet light that floats above the world; And round the board the faces of the gods Glad with dark wine, as I beheld them first New raised among them. Zeus domebrowed, serene With unresisted empire, hugely calm Like Ocean -- yet I noted even then The subtle brands of fear, -- the drooping lip Behind his beard, the specter in his look, That marked him more than god but less than man, Coward omnipotence; Athena, bright With panoply, the gorgon Aegis hung Before the frory splendor of her breast; Artemis, white, shadow-eyed, tremulous; And Aphrodite born of sun and foam, That bride-face dewy-dim with tenderness, That softly-yearning esctasy of form, So beautiful her beauty made me faint, So sweet her sweetness almost bent my will And shamed me downward to humanity, Until I thought of Smyrna's son -- and laughed; And turned to where She sat, my goddessqueen, My full-blown Hera, blooming a red rose Amid the Olympian lilies, richly dark With congregated sweet -- and saw the day Turn summer moonlight in her dusk of hair, And all the feverish south pant on her lip -- Thereafter gods and men I held in scorn, Accepting all my fate. I know the gods, Not as pale priests and raving oracles, Not as weak women, dazzled, worshiping, But as a strong man knows a stronger man, Nor fears nor worships him -- stronger than I Or else I were not here; unearthly fair Or I had not gone mad. Why was I born A spirit greater than my strength, a soul That could love utterly but could not fear? Then passed long days of calm divinity, I moving on unfaltering in my will Void of all fear -- how could I fear? I loved -- Setting against the wisdom of the gods My human craft, against their watchful sight The flame of my desire. The eye of Zeus Ranged over earth and heaven, and read the hearts Of men, followed the courses of the stars, And bared the secrets of the scheming gods, But saw me not. And at the last we met, Hera and I -- night on the Sacred Mount Deep with the stillness of eternity, The stars above us, and beneath our feet A great storm roaring out across the sea, A pregnant hush all round us -- face to face We stood, and all my soul rushed out in speech. I know not what I said. I scarcely knew I spoke, but vaguely wondered at the sound Of my own voice. I ceased. And then -- and then My goddess melted into womanhood, My Queen bent down from deity to me, Clung in my arms with her great eyes on fire A moment -- then our lips closed, and my heart Staggered into my ears, and the stars went out, And the heavens rocked around us, and the dark Grew gleaming green, and for one breath we hung Poised in the soul of a great emerald Shot through and through with lightnings. Then a voice Amid the throbbing blindness of my brain, Calm, small, and cold, and seeming far away -- The voice of Zeus. And then I feared him not -- I cursed his calm face while they bound me here. Lord Zeus, the jealous husband! Is it his, His all the empire of the spaces, his The joys, the woes of worlds? I know you, gods -- Thieves, perjurers, adulterers are ye all. Hark to my supplication, blessed ones! I would stretch forth my hands, but they are bound -- Hear my repentance -- in thy teeth, O Zeus, The scorn of him thou hatest! Was it my sin, Beautiful gods, to know you overwell? What have I done that others have not done As ill or worse -- Sisyphus the arch-thief Heaving his stone with groanings up the height Endlessly, foiled and mocked at the very goal -- What is the labor of men but such as his? Tantalus the god-soiler, grasping at The vain fruit, stooping to the falling wave, Teased into madness, laughing hideously -- What is the pleasure of men but such as his? They but relive their lives. I turn and yearn Bound, futile, helpless body and brain -- no task However vain, no joy in sight to seek However vainly -- only round and round, And every passive limb is strained and stung; Still round and round; and all my thought grows drunk With motion never ending, and the dark Is full of horrid eyes that whirl like wheels And whirling wheels that glare like horrid eyes, On every wheel a dumb Ixion, bound And bleeding, longing for the lashing flames Of Tartarus that smother sense in shrieks. And all the wild wheels whisper as they whirl, A sound like kisses -- and the whisper grows; And Hades rocks and totters to the sound, And swells and orbs, a globe of tremulous gloom, And shatters into whirling nothingness. My wheel turns and I turn unendingly Amid the wreck of souls to whom remain No hope, no wish but one -- the wish to die, The longing of the dead to die again. The sights I see would blast an earthly eye, The horrors I hear no tongue may put in words; And all around me roars the rage of gods -- Turning eternally in endless pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 17 by CONRAD AIKEN HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM |