DARKNESS

par

LORD GEORGE BYRON

Poême écrit suite à l'éruption du volcan Tambora, en 1815, en Indonésie


 
 
   I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
  The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
  Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
  Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
  Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air ;
  Morn came and went – and came, and brought no day,
  And men forgot their passions in the dread
  Of this their desolation ; and all hearts
  Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light :
  And they did live by watchfires – and the thrones,
  The palaces of crowned kings – the huts,
  The habitations of all things which dwell,
  Were burnt for beacons ; cities were consum'd,
  And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
  To look once more into each other's face ;
  Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
  Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch :
  A fearful hope was all the world contain'd ;
  Forests were set on fire – but hour by hour
  They fell and faded – and the crackling trunks
  Extinguish'd with a crash – and all was black.
  The brows of men by the despairing light
  Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
  The flashes fell upon them ; some lay down
  And hid their eyes and wept ; and some did rest
  Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd ;
  And others hurried to and fro, and fed
  Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
  With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
  The pall of a past world ; and then again
  With curses cast them down upon the dust,
  And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd : the wild birds shriek'd
  And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
  And flap their useless wings ; the wildest brutes
  Came tame and tremulous ; and vipers crawl'd
  And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
  Hissing, but stingless – they were slain for food.
  And War, which for a moment was no more,
  Did glut himself again : a meal was bought
  With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
  Gorging himself in gloom : no love was left ;
  All earth was but one thought – and that was death
  Immediate and inglorious ; and the pang
  Of famine fed upon all entrails – men
  Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh ;
  The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
  Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
  And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
  The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
  Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
  Lur'd their lank jaws ; himself sought out no food,
  But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
  And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
  Which answer'd not with a caress – he died.
  The crowd was famish'd by degrees ; but two
  Of an enormous city did survive,
  And they were enemies : they met beside
  The dying embers of an altar-place
  Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
  For an unholy usage ; they rak'd up,
  And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
  The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
  Blew for a little life, and made a flame
  Which was a mockery ; then they lifted up
  Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
  Each other's aspects – saw, and shriek'd, and died –
  Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
  Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
  Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
  The populous and the powerful was a lump,
  Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless –
  A lump of death – a chaos of hard clay.
  The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
  And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths ;
  Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
  And their masts fell down piecemeal : as they dropp'd
  They slept on the abyss without a surge –
  The waves were dead ; the tides were in their grave,
  The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before ;
  The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
  And the clouds perish'd ; Darkness had no need
  Of aid from them – She was the Universe.


Diodati, July, 1816