"Darkness" is Lord Byron's terrible tale of apocalypse and despair. In this narrative poem, a speaker dreams of a future in which the sun burns out and the whole world is left in darkness. Panicking, the survivors of this catastrophe gradually destroy all remaining life in their efforts to survive. Humanity, this poem suggests, is at the mercy of a vast and uncaring universe—and its own dark, selfish, violent impulses. This poem first appeared in Byron's 1816 collection The Prisoner of Chillon.
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1I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
2The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
3Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
4Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
5Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
6Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
7And men forgot their passions in the dread
8Of this their desolation; and all hearts
9Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
10And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
11The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
12The habitations of all things which dwell,
13Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
14And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
15To look once more into each other's face;
16Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
17Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
18A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
19Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
20They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
21Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.
22The brows of men by the despairing light
23Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
24The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
25And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
26Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
27And others hurried to and fro, and fed
28Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
29With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
30The pall of a past world; and then again
31With curses cast them down upon the dust,
32And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
33And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
34And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
35Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
36And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
37Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
38And War, which for a moment was no more,
39Did glut himself again;—a meal was bought
40With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
41Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
42All earth was but one thought—and that was death,
43Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
44Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
45Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
46The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
47Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
48And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
49The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
50Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
51Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
52But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
53And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
54Which answer'd not with a caress—he died.
55The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
56Of an enormous city did survive,
57And they were enemies: they met beside
58The dying embers of an altar-place
59Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
60For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
61And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
62The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
63Blew for a little life, and made a flame
64Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
65Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
66Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died—
67Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
68Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
69Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
70The populous and the powerful—was a lump,
71Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
72A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
73The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
74And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
75Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
76And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
77They slept on the abyss without a surge—
78The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
79The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
80The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
81And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
82Of aid from them—She was the Universe.
1I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
2The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
3Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
4Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
5Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
6Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
7And men forgot their passions in the dread
8Of this their desolation; and all hearts
9Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
10And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
11The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
12The habitations of all things which dwell,
13Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
14And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
15To look once more into each other's face;
16Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
17Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
18A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
19Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
20They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
21Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.
22The brows of men by the despairing light
23Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
24The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
25And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
26Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
27And others hurried to and fro, and fed
28Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
29With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
30The pall of a past world; and then again
31With curses cast them down upon the dust,
32And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
33And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
34And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
35Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
36And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
37Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
38And War, which for a moment was no more,
39Did glut himself again;—a meal was bought
40With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
41Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
42All earth was but one thought—and that was death,
43Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
44Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
45Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
46The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
47Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
48And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
49The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
50Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
51Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
52But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
53And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
54Which answer'd not with a caress—he died.
55The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
56Of an enormous city did survive,
57And they were enemies: they met beside
58The dying embers of an altar-place
59Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
60For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
61And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
62The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
63Blew for a little life, and made a flame
64Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
65Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
66Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died—
67Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
68Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
69Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
70The populous and the powerful—was a lump,
71Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
72A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
73The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
74And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
75Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
76And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
77They slept on the abyss without a surge—
78The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
79The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
80The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
81And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
82Of aid from them—She was the Universe.
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 expired 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.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Byron the Bad Boy — Read an article about Byron's complex legacy as a major poet, an iconoclast, and a celebrity.
The Poem Aloud — Listen to a dramatic reading of the poem.
A Short Biography — Visit the Poetry Foundation to learn more about Byron's life and work.
The Year Without a Summer — Read about the dark, cold summer of 1816, which inspired not only this poem, but a number of major works of literature, including Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.
Byron and Dogs — Learn about Byron's special fondness for dogs, and especially his beloved Lyon, who has a cameo in this poem as the lone representative of loyalty and hope!