4. I feed the clouds, the rainbows and the flowers With their aethereal colours; the moon's globe _20 And the pure stars in their eternal bowers Are cinctured with my power as with a robe; Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine Are portions of one power, which is mine.

5. I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven, 25 Then with unwilling steps I wander down Into the clouds of the Atlantic even; For grief that I depart they weep and frown: What look is more delightful than the smile With which I soothe them from the western isle? 30

6. I am the eye with which the Universe Beholds itself and knows itself divine; All harmony of instrument or verse, All prophecy, all medicine is mine, All light of art or nature;—to my song _35 Victory and praise in its own right belong.

NOTES: _32 itself divine]it is divine B. _34 is B.; are 1824. _36 its cj. Rossetti, 1870, B.; their 1824.

***

HYMN OF PAN.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a fair draft amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian. See Mr. C.D. Locock's "Examination", etc., 1903, page 25.]

1. From the forests and highlands We come, we come; From the river-girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb Listening to my sweet pipings. 5 The wind in the reeds and the rushes, The bees on the bells of thyme, The birds on the myrtle bushes, The cicale above in the lime, And the lizards below in the grass, 10 Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was, Listening to my sweet pipings.

2. Liquid Peneus was flowing, And all dark Tempe lay In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing 15 The light of the dying day, Speeded by my sweet pipings. The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and the waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns, 20 And the brink of the dewy caves, And all that did then attend and follow, Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo, With envy of my sweet pipings.

3. I sang of the dancing stars, _25 I sang of the daedal Earth, And of Heaven—and the giant wars, And Love, and Death, and Birth,— And then I changed my pipings,— Singing how down the vale of Maenalus _30 I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed. Gods and men, we are all deluded thus! It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed: All wept, as I think both ye now would, If envy or age had not frozen your blood, _35 At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.

NOTE: 5, 12 Listening to]Listening B.

***

THE QUESTION.

[Published by Leigh Hunt (with the signature Sigma) in "The Literary Pocket-Book", 1822. Reprinted by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. Copies exist in the Harvard manuscript book, amongst the Boscombe manuscripts, and amongst Ollier manuscripts.]

1. I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay _5 Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.

2. There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, 10 The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxslips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets— Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth— Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears, 15 When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

3. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day; _20 And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.

4. And nearer to the river's trembling edge 25 There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white. And starry river buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; 30 And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

5. Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers 35 Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom? 40

NOTES: 14 Like...mirth Harvard manuscript, Boscombe manuscript; wanting in Ollier manuscript, 1822, 1824, 1839. 15 Heaven's collected Harvard manuscript, Ollier manuscript, 1822; Heaven-collected 1824, 1839.

***

THE TWO SPIRITS: AN ALLEGORY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

FIRST SPIRIT: O thou, who plumed with strong desire Wouldst float above the earth, beware! A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire— Night is coming! Bright are the regions of the air, _5 And among the winds and beams It were delight to wander there— Night is coming!

SECOND SPIRIT: The deathless stars are bright above; If I would cross the shade of night, 10 Within my heart is the lamp of love, And that is day! And the moon will smile with gentle light On my golden plumes where'er they move; The meteors will linger round my flight, 15 And make night day.

FIRST SPIRIT: But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain; See, the bounds of the air are shaken— Night is coming! _20 The red swift clouds of the hurricane Yon declining sun have overtaken, The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain— Night is coming!

SECOND SPIRIT: I see the light, and I hear the sound; 25 I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark With the calm within and the light around Which makes night day: And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark, Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound, 30 My moon-like flight thou then mayst mark On high, far away.

...

Some say there is a precipice Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice 35 Mid Alpine mountains; And that the languid storm pursuing That winged shape, for ever flies Round those hoar branches, aye renewing Its aery fountains. 40

Some say when nights are dry and clear, And the death-dews sleep on the morass, Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller, Which make night day: And a silver shape like his early love doth pass _45 Upborne by her wild and glittering hair, And when he awakes on the fragrant grass, He finds night day.

NOTES: _2 Wouldst 1839; Would 1824. _31 moon-like 1824; moonlight 1839. _44 make]makes 1824, 1839.

***

ODE TO NAPLES.

(The Author has connected many recollections of his visit to Pompeii and Baiae with the enthusiasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation of a Constitutional Government at Naples. This has given a tinge of picturesque and descriptive imagery to the introductory Epodes which depicture these scenes, and some of the majestic feelings permanently connected with the scene of this animating event.—[SHELLEY'S NOTE.])

[Composed at San Juliano di Pisa, August 17-25, 1820; published in "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a copy, 'for the most part neat and legible,' amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian Library. See Mr. C.D. Locock's "Examination", etc., 1903, pages 14-18.]

EPODE 1a.

I stood within the City disinterred; And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls Of spirits passing through the streets; and heard The Mountain's slumberous voice at intervals Thrill through those roofless halls; 5 The oracular thunder penetrating shook The listening soul in my suspended blood; I felt that Earth out of her deep heart spoke— I felt, but heard not:—through white columns glowed The isle-sustaining ocean-flood, 10 A plane of light between two heavens of azure! Around me gleamed many a bright sepulchre Of whose pure beauty, Time, as if his pleasure Were to spare Death, had never made erasure; But every living lineament was clear 15 As in the sculptor's thought; and there The wreaths of stony myrtle, ivy, and pine, Like winter leaves o'ergrown by moulded snow, Seemed only not to move and grow Because the crystal silence of the air 20 Weighed on their life; even as the Power divine Which then lulled all things, brooded upon mine.

NOTE: _1 Pompeii.—[SHELLEY'S NOTE.]

EPODE 2a.

Then gentle winds arose With many a mingled close Of wild Aeolian sound, and mountain-odours keen; 25 And where the Baian ocean Welters with airlike motion, Within, above, around its bowers of starry green, Moving the sea-flowers in those purple caves, Even as the ever stormless atmosphere 30 Floats o'er the Elysian realm, It bore me, like an Angel, o'er the waves Of sunlight, whose swift pinnace of dewy air No storm can overwhelm. I sailed, where ever flows 35 Under the calm Serene A spirit of deep emotion From the unknown graves Of the dead Kings of Melody. Shadowy Aornos darkened o'er the helm 40 The horizontal aether; Heaven stripped bare Its depth over Elysium, where the prow Made the invisible water white as snow; From that Typhaean mount, Inarime, There streamed a sunbright vapour, like the standard 45 Of some aethereal host; Whilst from all the coast, Louder and louder, gathering round, there wandered Over the oracular woods and divine sea Prophesyings which grew articulate— They seize me—I must speak them!—be they fate! 50

NOTES: 25 odours B.; odour 1824. 42 depth B.; depths 1824. 45 sun-bright B.; sunlit 1824. 39 Homer and Virgil.—[SHELLEY'S NOTE.]

STROPHE 1.

Naples! thou Heart of men which ever pantest Naked, beneath the lidless eye of Heaven! Elysian City, which to calm enchantest The mutinous air and sea! they round thee, even _55 As sleep round Love, are driven! Metropolis of a ruined Paradise Long lost, late won, and yet but half regained! Bright Altar of the bloodless sacrifice Which armed Victory offers up unstained _60 To Love, the flower-enchained! Thou which wert once, and then didst cease to be, Now art, and henceforth ever shalt be, free, If Hope, and Truth, and Justice can avail,— Hail, hail, all hail! _65

STROPHE 2.

Thou youngest giant birth Which from the groaning earth Leap'st, clothed in armour of impenetrable scale! Last of the Intercessors! Who 'gainst the Crowned Transgressors 70 Pleadest before God's love! Arrayed in Wisdom's mail, Wave thy lightning lance in mirth Nor let thy high heart fail, Though from their hundred gates the leagued Oppressors With hurried legions move! 75 Hail, hail, all hail!

ANTISTROPHE 1a.

What though Cimmerian Anarchs dare blaspheme Freedom and thee? thy shield is as a mirror To make their blind slaves see, and with fierce gleam To turn his hungry sword upon the wearer; _80 A new Actaeon's error Shall theirs have been—devoured by their own hounds! Be thou like the imperial Basilisk Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds! Gaze on Oppression, till at that dread risk _85 Aghast she pass from the Earth's disk: Fear not, but gaze—for freemen mightier grow, And slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe:— If Hope, and Truth, and Justice may avail, Thou shalt be great—All hail! _90

ANTISTROPHE 2a.

From Freedom's form divine, From Nature's inmost shrine, Strip every impious gawd, rend Error veil by veil; O'er Ruin desolate, O'er Falsehood's fallen state, 95 Sit thou sublime, unawed; be the Destroyer pale! And equal laws be thine, And winged words let sail, Freighted with truth even from the throne of God: That wealth, surviving fate, 100 Be thine.—All hail!

NOTE: _100 wealth-surviving cj. A.C. Bradley.

ANTISTROPHE 1b.

Didst thou not start to hear Spain's thrilling paean From land to land re-echoed solemnly, Till silence became music? From the Aeaean To the cold Alps, eternal Italy _105 Starts to hear thine! The Sea Which paves the desert streets of Venice laughs In light, and music; widowed Genoa wan By moonlight spells ancestral epitaphs, Murmuring, 'Where is Doria?' fair Milan, _110 Within whose veins long ran The viper's palsying venom, lifts her heel To bruise his head. The signal and the seal (If Hope and Truth and Justice can avail) Art thou of all these hopes.—O hail! _115

NOTES: 104 Aeaea, the island of Circe.—[SHELLEY'S NOTE.] 112 The viper was the armorial device of the Visconti, tyrants of Milan.—[SHELLEY'S NOTE.]

ANTISTROPHE 2b.

Florence! beneath the sun, Of cities fairest one, Blushes within her bower for Freedom's expectation: From eyes of quenchless hope Rome tears the priestly cope, 120 As ruling once by power, so now by admiration,— An athlete stripped to run From a remoter station For the high prize lost on Philippi's shore:— As then Hope, Truth, and Justice did avail, 125 So now may Fraud and Wrong! O hail!

EPODE 1b.

Hear ye the march as of the Earth-born Forms Arrayed against the ever-living Gods? The crash and darkness of a thousand storms Bursting their inaccessible abodes 130 Of crags and thunder-clouds? See ye the banners blazoned to the day, Inwrought with emblems of barbaric pride? Dissonant threats kill Silence far away, The serene Heaven which wraps our Eden wide 135 With iron light is dyed; The Anarchs of the North lead forth their legions Like Chaos o'er creation, uncreating; An hundred tribes nourished on strange religions And lawless slaveries,—down the aereal regions 140 Of the white Alps, desolating, Famished wolves that bide no waiting, Blotting the glowing footsteps of old glory, Trampling our columned cities into dust, Their dull and savage lust 145 On Beauty's corse to sickness satiating— They come! The fields they tread look black and hoary With fire—from their red feet the streams run gory!

EPODE 2b.

Great Spirit, deepest Love! Which rulest and dost move 150 All things which live and are, within the Italian shore; Who spreadest Heaven around it, Whose woods, rocks, waves, surround it; Who sittest in thy star, o'er Ocean's western floor; Spirit of beauty! at whose soft command 155 The sunbeams and the showers distil its foison From the Earth's bosom chill; Oh, bid those beams be each a blinding brand Of lightning! bid those showers be dews of poison! Bid the Earth's plenty kill! 160 Bid thy bright Heaven above, Whilst light and darkness bound it, Be their tomb who planned To make it ours and thine! Or, with thine harmonizing ardours fill 165 And raise thy sons, as o'er the prone horizon Thy lamp feeds every twilight wave with fire— Be man's high hope and unextinct desire The instrument to work thy will divine! Then clouds from sunbeams, antelopes from leopards, 170 And frowns and fears from thee, Would not more swiftly flee Than Celtic wolves from the Ausonian shepherds.— Whatever, Spirit, from thy starry shrine Thou yieldest or withholdest, oh, let be 175 This city of thy worship ever free!

NOTES: 143 old 1824; lost B. 147 black 1824; blue B.

***

AUTUMN: A DIRGE.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. 5 Come, Months, come away, From November to May, In your saddest array; Follow the bier Of the dead cold Year, 10 And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.

2. The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling, The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling For the Year; The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone 15 To his dwelling; Come, Months, come away; Put on white, black, and gray; Let your light sisters play— Ye, follow the bier 20 Of the dead cold Year, And make her grave green with tear on tear.

***

THE WANING MOON.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

And like a dying lady, lean and pale, Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil, Out of her chamber, led by the insane And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, The moon arose up in the murky East, _5 A white and shapeless mass—

***

TO THE MOON.

[Published (1) by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824, (2) by W.M. Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works", 1870.]

1. Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth,— And ever changing, like a joyless eye _5 That finds no object worth its constancy?

2. Thou chosen sister of the Spirit, That grazes on thee till in thee it pities...

***

DEATH.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. Death is here and death is there, Death is busy everywhere, All around, within, beneath, Above is death—and we are death.

2. Death has set his mark and seal _5 On all we are and all we feel, On all we know and all we fear,

...

3. First our pleasures die—and then Our hopes, and then our fears—and when These are dead, the debt is due, _10 Dust claims dust—and we die too.

4. All things that we love and cherish, Like ourselves must fade and perish; Such is our rude mortal lot— Love itself would, did they not. _15

***

LIBERTY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. The fiery mountains answer each other; Their thunderings are echoed from zone to zone; The tempestuous oceans awake one another, And the ice-rocks are shaken round Winter's throne, When the clarion of the Typhoon is blown. _5

2. From a single cloud the lightening flashes, Whilst a thousand isles are illumined around, Earthquake is trampling one city to ashes, An hundred are shuddering and tottering; the sound Is bellowing underground. _10

3. But keener thy gaze than the lightening's glare, And swifter thy step than the earthquake's tramp; Thou deafenest the rage of the ocean; thy stare Makes blind the volcanoes; the sun's bright lamp To thine is a fen-fire damp. _15

4. From billow and mountain and exhalation The sunlight is darted through vapour and blast; From spirit to spirit, from nation to nation, From city to hamlet thy dawning is cast,— And tyrants and slaves are like shadows of night _20 In the van of the morning light.

NOTE: _4 zone editions 1824, 1839; throne later editions.

***

SUMMER AND WINTER.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley in "The Keepsake", 1829. Mr. C.W. Frederickson of Brooklyn possesses a transcript in Mrs. Shelley's handwriting.]

It was a bright and cheerful afternoon, Towards the end of the sunny month of June, When the north wind congregates in crowds The floating mountains of the silver clouds From the horizon—and the stainless sky 5 Opens beyond them like eternity. All things rejoiced beneath the sun; the weeds, The river, and the corn-fields, and the reeds; The willow leaves that glanced in the light breeze, And the firm foliage of the larger trees. 10

It was a winter such as when birds die In the deep forests; and the fishes lie Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when, _15 Among their children, comfortable men Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold: Alas, then, for the homeless beggar old!

NOTE: _11 birds die 1839; birds do die 1829.

***

THE TOWER OF FAMINE.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley in "The Keepsake", 1829. Mr. C.W. Frederickson of Brooklyn possesses a transcript in Mrs. Shelley's handwriting.]

Amid the desolation of a city, Which was the cradle, and is now the grave Of an extinguished people,—so that Pity

Weeps o'er the shipwrecks of Oblivion's wave, There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built _5 Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave

For bread, and gold, and blood: Pain, linked to Guilt, Agitates the light flame of their hours, Until its vital oil is spent or spilt.

There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers _10 And sacred domes; each marble-ribbed roof, The brazen-gated temples, and the bowers

Of solitary wealth,—the tempest-proof Pavilions of the dark Italian air,— Are by its presence dimmed—they stand aloof, _15

And are withdrawn—so that the world is bare; As if a spectre wrapped in shapeless terror Amid a company of ladies fair

Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror Of all their beauty, and their hair and hue, _20 The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error, Should be absorbed, till they to marble grew.

NOTE: _7 For]With 1829.

***

AN ALLEGORY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. A portal as of shadowy adamant Stands yawning on the highway of the life Which we all tread, a cavern huge and gaunt; Around it rages an unceasing strife Of shadows, like the restless clouds that haunt _5 The gap of some cleft mountain, lifted high Into the whirlwinds of the upper sky.

2. And many pass it by with careless tread, Not knowing that a shadowy ... Tracks every traveller even to where the dead 10 Wait peacefully for their companion new; But others, by more curious humour led, Pause to examine;—these are very few, And they learn little there, except to know That shadows follow them where'er they go. 15

NOTE: _8 pass Rossetti; passed editions 1824, 1839.

***

THE WORLD'S WANDERERS.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light Speed thee in thy fiery flight, In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now?

2. Tell me, Moon, thou pale and gray _5 Pilgrim of Heaven's homeless way, In what depth of night or day Seekest thou repose now?

3. Weary Wind, who wanderest Like the world's rejected guest, _10 Hast thou still some secret nest On the tree or billow?

***

SONNET.

[Published by Leigh Hunt, "The Literary Pocket-Book", 1823. There is a transcript amongst the Ollier manuscripts, and another in the Harvard manuscript book.]

Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there, Ye restless thoughts and busy purposes Of the idle brain, which the world's livery wear? O thou quick heart, which pantest to possess All that pale Expectation feigneth fair! 5 Thou vainly curious mind which wouldest guess Whence thou didst come, and whither thou must go, And all that never yet was known would know— Oh, whither hasten ye, that thus ye press, With such swift feet life's green and pleasant path, 10 Seeking, alike from happiness and woe, A refuge in the cavern of gray death? O heart, and mind, and thoughts! what thing do you Hope to inherit in the grave below?

NOTE: 1 grave Ollier manuscript; dead Harvard manuscript, 1823, editions 1824, 1839. 5 pale Expectation Ollier manuscript; anticipation Harvard manuscript, 1823, editions 1824, 1839. 7 must Harvard manuscript, 1823; mayst 1824; mayest editions 1839. 8 all that Harvard manuscript, 1823; that which editions 1824, 1839. would Harvard manuscript, 1823; wouldst editions 1839.

***

LINES TO A REVIEWER.

[Published by Leigh Hunt, "The Literary Pocket-Book", 1823. These lines, and the "Sonnet" immediately preceding, are signed Sigma in the "Literary Pocket-Book".]

Alas, good friend, what profit can you see In hating such a hateless thing as me? There is no sport in hate where all the rage Is on one side: in vain would you assuage Your frowns upon an unresisting smile, 5 In which not even contempt lurks to beguile Your heart, by some faint sympathy of hate. Oh, conquer what you cannot satiate! For to your passion I am far more coy Than ever yet was coldest maid or boy 10 In winter noon. Of your antipathy If I am the Narcissus, you are free To pine into a sound with hating me.

NOTE: _3 where editions 1824, 1839; when 1823.

***

FRAGMENT OF A SATIRE ON SATIRE.

[Published by Edward Dowden, "Correspondence of Robert Southey and Caroline Bowles", 1880.]

If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains, And racks of subtle torture, if the pains Of shame, of fiery Hell's tempestuous wave, Seen through the caverns of the shadowy grave, Hurling the damned into the murky air _5 While the meek blest sit smiling; if Despair And Hate, the rapid bloodhounds with which Terror Hunts through the world the homeless steps of Error, Are the true secrets of the commonweal To make men wise and just;... _10 And not the sophisms of revenge and fear, Bloodier than is revenge... Then send the priests to every hearth and home To preach the burning wrath which is to come, In words like flakes of sulphur, such as thaw _15 The frozen tears... If Satire's scourge could wake the slumbering hounds Of Conscience, or erase the deeper wounds, The leprous scars of callous Infamy; If it could make the present not to be, _20 Or charm the dark past never to have been, Or turn regret to hope; who that has seen What Southey is and was, would not exclaim, 'Lash on!' ... be the keen verse dipped in flame; Follow his flight with winged words, and urge _25 The strokes of the inexorable scourge Until the heart be naked, till his soul See the contagion's spots ... foul; And from the mirror of Truth's sunlike shield, From which his Parthian arrow... _30 Flash on his sight the spectres of the past, Until his mind's eye paint thereon— Let scorn like ... yawn below, And rain on him like flakes of fiery snow. This cannot be, it ought not, evil still— _35 Suffering makes suffering, ill must follow ill. Rough words beget sad thoughts, ... and, beside, Men take a sullen and a stupid pride In being all they hate in others' shame, By a perverse antipathy of fame. _40 'Tis not worth while to prove, as I could, how From the sweet fountains of our Nature flow These bitter waters; I will only say, If any friend would take Southey some day, And tell him, in a country walk alone, _45 Softening harsh words with friendship's gentle tone, How incorrect his public conduct is, And what men think of it, 'twere not amiss. Far better than to make innocent ink—

***

GOOD-NIGHT.

[Published by Leigh Hunt over the signature Sigma, "The Literary Pocket-Book", 1822. It is included in the Harvard manuscript book, and there is a transcript by Shelley in a copy of "The Literary Pocket-Book", 1819, presented by him to Miss Sophia Stacey, December 29, 1820. (See "Love's Philosophy" and "Time Long Past".) Our text is that of the editio princeps, 1822, with which the Harvard manuscript and "Posthumous Poems", 1824, agree. The variants of the Stacey manuscript, 1820, are given in the footnotes.]

1. Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill Which severs those it should unite; Let us remain together still, Then it will be GOOD night.

2. How can I call the lone night good, _5 Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight? Be it not said, thought, understood— Then it will be—GOOD night.

3. To hearts which near each other move From evening close to morning light, _10 The night is good; because, my love, They never SAY good-night.

NOTES: _1 Good-night? no, love! the night is ill Stacey manuscript. _5 How were the night without thee good Stacey manuscript. _9 The hearts that on each other beat Stacey manuscript. _11 Have nights as good as they are sweet Stacey manuscript. _12 But never SAY good night Stacey manuscript.

***

BUONA NOTTE.

[Published by Medwin, "The Angler in Wales, or Days and Nights of Sportsmen", 1834. The text is revised by Rossetti from the Boscombe manuscript.]

1. 'Buona notte, buona notte!'—Come mai La notte sara buona senza te? Non dirmi buona notte,—che tu sai, La notte sa star buona da per se.

2. Solinga, scura, cupa, senza speme, _5 La notte quando Lilla m'abbandona; Pei cuori chi si batton insieme Ogni notte, senza dirla, sara buona.

3. Come male buona notte ci suona Con sospiri e parole interrotte!— _10 Il modo di aver la notte buona E mai non di dir la buona notte.

NOTES: _2 sara]sia 1834. _4 buona]bene 1834. _9 Come]Quanto 1834.

***

ORPHEUS.

[Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862; revised and enlarged by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

A: Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill, Crowned with a ring of oaks, you may behold A dark and barren field, through which there flows, Sluggish and black, a deep but narrow stream, Which the wind ripples not, and the fair moon 5 Gazes in vain, and finds no mirror there. Follow the herbless banks of that strange brook Until you pause beside a darksome pond, The fountain of this rivulet, whose gush Cannot be seen, hid by a rayless night 10 That lives beneath the overhanging rock That shades the pool—an endless spring of gloom, Upon whose edge hovers the tender light, Trembling to mingle with its paramour,— But, as Syrinx fled Pan, so night flies day, 15 Or, with most sullen and regardless hate, Refuses stern her heaven-born embrace. On one side of this jagged and shapeless hill There is a cave, from which there eddies up A pale mist, like aereal gossamer, 20 Whose breath destroys all life—awhile it veils The rock—then, scattered by the wind, it flies Along the stream, or lingers on the clefts, Killing the sleepy worms, if aught bide there. Upon the beetling edge of that dark rock 25 There stands a group of cypresses; not such As, with a graceful spire and stirring life, Pierce the pure heaven of your native vale, Whose branches the air plays among, but not Disturbs, fearing to spoil their solemn grace; 30 But blasted and all wearily they stand, One to another clinging; their weak boughs Sigh as the wind buffets them, and they shake Beneath its blasts—a weatherbeaten crew!

CHORUS: What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint, _35 But more melodious than the murmuring wind Which through the columns of a temple glides?

A: It is the wandering voice of Orpheus' lyre, Borne by the winds, who sigh that their rude king Hurries them fast from these air-feeding notes; _40 But in their speed they bear along with them The waning sound, scattering it like dew Upon the startled sense.

CHORUS: Does he still sing? Methought he rashly cast away his harp When he had lost Eurydice.

A: Ah, no! 45 Awhile he paused. As a poor hunted stag A moment shudders on the fearful brink Of a swift stream—the cruel hounds press on With deafening yell, the arrows glance and wound,— He plunges in: so Orpheus, seized and torn 50 By the sharp fangs of an insatiate grief, Maenad-like waved his lyre in the bright air, And wildly shrieked 'Where she is, it is dark!' And then he struck from forth the strings a sound Of deep and fearful melody. Alas! 55 In times long past, when fair Eurydice With her bright eyes sat listening by his side, He gently sang of high and heavenly themes. As in a brook, fretted with little waves By the light airs of spring—each riplet makes 60 A many-sided mirror for the sun, While it flows musically through green banks, Ceaseless and pauseless, ever clear and fresh, So flowed his song, reflecting the deep joy And tender love that fed those sweetest notes, 65 The heavenly offspring of ambrosial food. But that is past. Returning from drear Hell, He chose a lonely seat of unhewn stone, Blackened with lichens, on a herbless plain. Then from the deep and overflowing spring 70 Of his eternal ever-moving grief There rose to Heaven a sound of angry song. 'Tis as a mighty cataract that parts Two sister rocks with waters swift and strong, 75 And casts itself with horrid roar and din Adown a steep; from a perennial source It ever flows and falls, and breaks the air With loud and fierce, but most harmonious roar, And as it falls casts up a vaporous spray Which the sun clothes in hues of Iris light. 80 Thus the tempestuous torrent of his grief Is clothed in sweetest sounds and varying words Of poesy. Unlike all human works, It never slackens, and through every change Wisdom and beauty and the power divine 85 Of mighty poesy together dwell, Mingling in sweet accord. As I have seen A fierce south blast tear through the darkened sky, Driving along a rack of winged clouds, Which may not pause, but ever hurry on, 90 As their wild shepherd wills them, while the stars, Twinkling and dim, peep from between the plumes. Anon the sky is cleared, and the high dome Of serene Heaven, starred with fiery flowers, Shuts in the shaken earth; or the still moon 95 Swiftly, yet gracefully, begins her walk, Rising all bright behind the eastern hills. I talk of moon, and wind, and stars, and not Of song; but, would I echo his high song, Nature must lend me words ne'er used before, 100 Or I must borrow from her perfect works, To picture forth his perfect attributes. He does no longer sit upon his throne Of rock upon a desert herbless plain, For the evergreen and knotted ilexes, 105 And cypresses that seldom wave their boughs, And sea-green olives with their grateful fruit, And elms dragging along the twisted vines, Which drop their berries as they follow fast, And blackthorn bushes with their infant race 110 Of blushing rose-blooms; beeches, to lovers dear, And weeping willow trees; all swift or slow, As their huge boughs or lighter dress permit, Have circled in his throne, and Earth herself Has sent from her maternal breast a growth 115 Of starlike flowers and herbs of odour sweet, To pave the temple that his poesy Has framed, while near his feet grim lions couch, And kids, fearless from love, creep near his lair. Even the blind worms seem to feel the sound. 120 The birds are silent, hanging down their heads, Perched on the lowest branches of the trees; Not even the nightingale intrudes a note In rivalry, but all entranced she listens.

NOTES: _16, _17, _24 1870 only. _45-_55 Ah, no!... melody 1870 only. _66 1870 only. _112 trees 1870; too 1862. _113 huge 1870; long 1862. _116 starlike 1870; starry 1862. odour 1862; odours 1870.

***

FIORDISPINA.

[Published in part (lines 11-30) by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; in full (from the Boscombe manuscript) by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.]

The season was the childhood of sweet June, Whose sunny hours from morning until noon Went creeping through the day with silent feet, Each with its load of pleasure; slow yet sweet; Like the long years of blest Eternity 5 Never to be developed. Joy to thee, Fiordispina and thy Cosimo, For thou the wonders of the depth canst know Of this unfathomable flood of hours, Sparkling beneath the heaven which embowers— 10

...

They were two cousins, almost like to twins, Except that from the catalogue of sins Nature had rased their love—which could not be But by dissevering their nativity. And so they grew together like two flowers 15 Upon one stem, which the same beams and showers Lull or awaken in their purple prime, Which the same hand will gather—the same clime Shake with decay. This fair day smiles to see All those who love—and who e'er loved like thee, 20 Fiordispina? Scarcely Cosimo, Within whose bosom and whose brain now glow The ardours of a vision which obscure The very idol of its portraiture. He faints, dissolved into a sea of love; 25 But thou art as a planet sphered above; But thou art Love itself—ruling the motion Of his subjected spirit: such emotion Must end in sin and sorrow, if sweet May Had not brought forth this morn—your wedding-day. 30

...

'Lie there; sleep awhile in your own dew, Ye faint-eyed children of the ... Hours,' Fiordispina said, and threw the flowers Which she had from the breathing—

...

A table near of polished porphyry. 35 They seemed to wear a beauty from the eye That looked on them—a fragrance from the touch Whose warmth ... checked their life; a light such As sleepers wear, lulled by the voice they love, which did reprove 40 The childish pity that she felt for them, And a ... remorse that from their stem She had divided such fair shapes ... made A feeling in the ... which was a shade Of gentle beauty on the flowers: there lay 45 All gems that make the earth's dark bosom gay. ... rods of myrtle-buds and lemon-blooms, And that leaf tinted lightly which assumes The livery of unremembered snow— Violets whose eyes have drunk— 50

...

Fiordispina and her nurse are now Upon the steps of the high portico, Under the withered arm of Media She flings her glowing arm

...

... step by step and stair by stair, _55 That withered woman, gray and white and brown— More like a trunk by lichens overgrown Than anything which once could have been human. And ever as she goes the palsied woman

...

'How slow and painfully you seem to walk, _60 Poor Media! you tire yourself with talk.' 'And well it may, Fiordispina, dearest—well-a-day! You are hastening to a marriage-bed; I to the grave!'—'And if my love were dead, _65 Unless my heart deceives me, I would lie Beside him in my shroud as willingly As now in the gay night-dress Lilla wrought.' 'Fie, child! Let that unseasonable thought Not be remembered till it snows in June; _70 Such fancies are a music out of tune With the sweet dance your heart must keep to-night. What! would you take all beauty and delight Back to the Paradise from which you sprung, And leave to grosser mortals?— _75 And say, sweet lamb, would you not learn the sweet And subtle mystery by which spirits meet? Who knows whether the loving game is played, When, once of mortal [vesture] disarrayed, The naked soul goes wandering here and there _80 Through the wide deserts of Elysian air? The violet dies not till it'—

NOTES: _11 to 1824; two editions 1839. _20 e'er 1862; ever editions 1824, 1839. _25 sea edition 1862; sense editions 1824, 1839.

***

TIME LONG PAST.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870. This is one of three poems (cf. "Love's Philosophy" and "Good-Night") transcribed by Shelley in a copy of Leigh Hunt's "Literary Pocket-Book" for 1819 presented by him to Miss Sophia Stacey, December 29, 1820.]

1. Like the ghost of a dear friend dead Is Time long past. A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last, _5 Was Time long past.

2. There were sweet dreams in the night Of Time long past: And, was it sadness or delight, Each day a shadow onward cast _10 Which made us wish it yet might last— That Time long past.

3. There is regret, almost remorse, For Time long past. 'Tis like a child's beloved corse _15 A father watches, till at last Beauty is like remembrance, cast From Time long past.

***

FRAGMENT: THE DESERTS OF DIM SLEEP.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

I went into the deserts of dim sleep— That world which, like an unknown wilderness, Bounds this with its recesses wide and deep—

***

FRAGMENT: 'THE VIEWLESS AND INVISIBLE CONSEQUENCE'.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

The viewless and invisible Consequence Watches thy goings-out, and comings-in, And...hovers o'er thy guilty sleep, Unveiling every new-born deed, and thoughts More ghastly than those deeds— _5

***

FRAGMENT: A SERPENT-FACE.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

His face was like a snake's—wrinkled and loose And withered—

***

FRAGMENT: DEATH IN LIFE.

[Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.]

My head is heavy, my limbs are weary, And it is not life that makes me move.

***

FRAGMENT: 'SUCH HOPE, AS IS THE SICK DESPAIR OF GOOD'.

[Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.]

Such hope, as is the sick despair of good, Such fear, as is the certainty of ill, Such doubt, as is pale Expectation's food Turned while she tastes to poison, when the will Is powerless, and the spirit... _5

***

FRAGMENT: 'ALAS! THIS IS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT LIFE WAS'.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition. This fragment is joined by Forman with that immediately preceding.]

Alas! this is not what I thought life was. I knew that there were crimes and evil men, Misery and hate; nor did I hope to pass Untouched by suffering, through the rugged glen. In mine own heart I saw as in a glass _5 The hearts of others ... And when I went among my kind, with triple brass Of calm endurance my weak breast I armed, To bear scorn, fear, and hate, a woful mass!

***

FRAGMENT: MILTON'S SPIRIT.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

I dreamed that Milton's spirit rose, and took From life's green tree his Uranian lute; And from his touch sweet thunder flowed, and shook All human things built in contempt of man,— And sanguine thrones and impious altars quaked, _5 Prisons and citadels...

NOTE: _2 lute Uranian cj. A.C. Bradley.

***

FRAGMENT: 'UNRISEN SPLENDOUR OF THE BRIGHTEST SUN'.

[Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.]

Unrisen splendour of the brightest sun, To rise upon our darkness, if the star Now beckoning thee out of thy misty throne Could thaw the clouds which wage an obscure war With thy young brightness! _5

***

FRAGMENT: PATER OMNIPOTENS.

[Edited from manuscript Shelley E 4 in the Bodleian Library, and published by Mr. C.D. Locock, "Examination" etc., Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1903. Here placed conjecturally amongst the compositions of 1820, but of uncertain date, and belonging possibly to 1819 or a still earlier year.]

Serene in his unconquerable might Endued[,] the Almighty King, his steadfast throne Encompassed unapproachably with power And darkness and deep solitude an awe Stood like a black cloud on some aery cliff _5 Embosoming its lightning—in his sight Unnumbered glorious spirits trembling stood Like slaves before their Lord—prostrate around Heaven's multitudes hymned everlasting praise.

***

FRAGMENT: TO THE MIND OF MAN.

[Edited, published and here placed as the preceding.]

Thou living light that in thy rainbow hues Clothest this naked world; and over Sea And Earth and air, and all the shapes that be In peopled darkness of this wondrous world The Spirit of thy glory dost diffuse 5 ... truth ... thou Vital Flame Mysterious thought that in this mortal frame Of things, with unextinguished lustre burnest Now pale and faint now high to Heaven upcurled That eer as thou dost languish still returnest 10 And ever Before the ... before the Pyramids

So soon as from the Earth formless and rude One living step had chased drear Solitude Thou wert, Thought; thy brightness charmed the lids _15 Of the vast snake Eternity, who kept The tree of good and evil.—

***

NOTE ON POEMS OF 1820, BY MRS. SHELLEY.

We spent the latter part of the year 1819 in Florence, where Shelley passed several hours daily in the Gallery, and made various notes on its ancient works of art. His thoughts were a good deal taken up also by the project of a steamboat, undertaken by a friend, an engineer, to ply between Leghorn and Marseilles, for which he supplied a sum of money. This was a sort of plan to delight Shelley, and he was greatly disappointed when it was thrown aside.

There was something in Florence that disagreed excessively with his health, and he suffered far more pain than usual; so much so that we left it sooner than we intended, and removed to Pisa, where we had some friends, and, above all, where we could consult the celebrated Vacca as to the cause of Shelley's sufferings. He, like every other medical man, could only guess at that, and gave little hope of immediate relief; he enjoined him to abstain from all physicians and medicine, and to leave his complaint to Nature. As he had vainly consulted medical men of the highest repute in England, he was easily persuaded to adopt this advice. Pain and ill-health followed him to the end; but the residence at Pisa agreed with him better than any other, and there in consequence we remained.

In the Spring we spent a week or two near Leghorn, borrowing the house of some friends who were absent on a journey to England. It was on a beautiful summer evening, while wandering among the lanes whose myrtle-hedges were the bowers of the fire-flies, that we heard the carolling of the skylark which inspired one of the most beautiful of his poems. He addressed the letter to Mrs. Gisborne from this house, which was hers: he had made his study of the workshop of her son, who was an engineer. Mrs. Gisborne had been a friend of my father in her younger days. She was a lady of great accomplishments, and charming from her frank and affectionate nature. She had the most intense love of knowledge, a delicate and trembling sensibility, and preserved freshness of mind after a life of considerable adversity. As a favourite friend of my father, we had sought her with eagerness; and the most open and cordial friendship was established between us.

Our stay at the Baths of San Giuliano was shortened by an accident. At the foot of our garden ran the canal that communicated between the Serchio and the Arno. The Serchio overflowed its banks, and, breaking its bounds, this canal also overflowed; all this part of the country is below the level of its rivers, and the consequence was that it was speedily flooded. The rising waters filled the Square of the Baths, in the lower part of which our house was situated. The canal overflowed in the garden behind; the rising waters on either side at last burst open the doors, and, meeting in the house, rose to the height of six feet. It was a picturesque sight at night to see the peasants driving the cattle from the plains below to the hills above the Baths. A fire was kept up to guide them across the ford; and the forms of the men and the animals showed in dark relief against the red glare of the flame, which was reflected again in the waters that filled the Square.

We then removed to Pisa, and took up our abode there for the winter. The extreme mildness of the climate suited Shelley, and his solitude was enlivened by an intercourse with several intimate friends. Chance cast us strangely enough on this quiet half-unpeopled town; but its very peace suited Shelley. Its river, the near mountains, and not distant sea, added to its attractions, and were the objects of many delightful excursions. We feared the south of Italy, and a hotter climate, on account of our child; our former bereavement inspiring us with terror. We seemed to take root here, and moved little afterwards; often, indeed, entertaining projects for visiting other parts of Italy, but still delaying. But for our fears on account of our child, I believe we should have wandered over the world, both being passionately fond of travelling. But human life, besides its great unalterable necessities, is ruled by a thousand lilliputian ties that shackle at the time, although it is difficult to account afterwards for their influence over our destiny.

***

POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821.

DIRGE FOR THE YEAR.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824, and dated January 1, 1821.]

1. Orphan Hours, the Year is dead, Come and sigh, come and weep! Merry Hours, smile instead, For the Year is but asleep. See, it smiles as it is sleeping, _5 Mocking your untimely weeping.

2. As an earthquake rocks a corse In its coffin in the clay, So White Winter, that rough nurse, Rocks the death-cold Year to-day; _10 Solemn Hours! wail aloud For your mother in her shroud.

3. As the wild air stirs and sways The tree-swung cradle of a child, So the breath of these rude days _15 Rocks the Year:—be calm and mild, Trembling Hours, she will arise With new love within her eyes.

4. January gray is here, Like a sexton by her grave; _20 February bears the bier, March with grief doth howl and rave, And April weeps—but, O ye Hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.

***

TO NIGHT.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a transcript in the Harvard manuscript book.]

1. Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, _5 'Which make thee terrible and dear,— Swift be thy flight!

2. Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; _10 Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand— Come, long-sought!

3. When I arose and saw the dawn, 15 I sighed for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee. 20

4. Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, _25 Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me?—And I replied, No, not thee!

5. Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon— 30 Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved Night— Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon! 35

NOTE: _1 o'er Harvard manuscript; over editions 1824, 1839.

***

TIME.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years, Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears! Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality, 5 And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore; Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Who shall put forth on thee, Unfathomable Sea? 10

***

LINES.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. Far, far away, O ye Halcyons of Memory, Seek some far calmer nest Than this abandoned breast! No news of your false spring _5 To my heart's winter bring, Once having gone, in vain Ye come again.

2. Vultures, who build your bowers High in the Future's towers, _10 Withered hopes on hopes are spread! Dying joys, choked by the dead, Will serve your beaks for prey Many a day.

***

FROM THE ARABIC: AN IMITATION.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is an intermediate draft amongst the Bodleian manuscripts. See Locock, "Examination", etc., 1903, page 13.]

1. My faint spirit was sitting in the light Of thy looks, my love; It panted for thee like the hind at noon For the brooks, my love. Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight _5 Bore thee far from me; My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, Did companion thee.

2. Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed Or the death they bear, 10 The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Shall mine cling to thee, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, 15 It may bring to thee.

NOTES: _3 hoofs]feet B. _7 were]grew B. _9 Ah!]O B.

***

TO EMILIA VIVIANI.

[Published, (1) by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; (2, 1) by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862; (2, 2 and 3) by H. Buxton Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1876.]

1. Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me Sweet-basil and mignonette? Embleming love and health, which never yet In the same wreath might be. Alas, and they are wet! 5 Is it with thy kisses or thy tears? For never rain or dew Such fragrance drew From plant or flower—the very doubt endears My sadness ever new, 10 The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed for thee.

2. Send the stars light, but send not love to me, In whom love ever made Health like a heap of embers soon to fade—

***

THE FUGITIVES.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems". 1824.]

1. The waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar-spray is dancing— Away! _5

The whirlwind is rolling, The thunder is tolling, The forest is swinging, The minster bells ringing— Come away! _10

The Earth is like Ocean, Wreck-strewn and in motion: Bird, beast, man and worm Have crept out of the storm— Come away! _15

2. 'Our boat has one sail And the helmsman is pale;— A bold pilot I trow, Who should follow us now,'— Shouted he— _20

And she cried: 'Ply the oar! Put off gaily from shore!'— As she spoke, bolts of death Mixed with hail, specked their path O'er the sea. _25

And from isle, tower and rock, The blue beacon-cloud broke, And though dumb in the blast, The red cannon flashed fast From the lee. _30

3. And 'Fear'st thou?' and 'Fear'st thou?' And Seest thou?' and 'Hear'st thou?' And 'Drive we not free O'er the terrible sea, I and thou?' _35

One boat-cloak did cover The loved and the lover— Their blood beats one measure, They murmur proud pleasure Soft and low;— _40

While around the lashed Ocean, Like mountains in motion, Is withdrawn and uplifted, Sunk, shattered and shifted To and fro. _45

4. In the court of the fortress Beside the pale portress, Like a bloodhound well beaten The bridegroom stands, eaten By shame; _50

On the topmost watch-turret, As a death-boding spirit Stands the gray tyrant father, To his voice the mad weather Seems tame; _55

And with curses as wild As e'er clung to child, He devotes to the blast, The best, loveliest and last Of his name! _60

NOTES: 28 And though]Though editions 1839. 57 clung]cling editions 1839.

***

TO —.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, _5 Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.

***

SONG.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a transcript in the Harvard manuscript book.]

1. Rarely, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day _5 'Tis since thou art fled away.

2. How shall ever one like me Win thee back again? With the joyous and the free Thou wilt scoff at pain. _10 Spirit false! thou hast forgot All but those who need thee not.

3. As a lizard with the shade Of a trembling leaf, Thou with sorrow art dismayed; _15 Even the sighs of grief Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear.

4. Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure; _20 Thou wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

5. I love all that thou lovest, 25 Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed, And the starry night; Autumn evening, and the morn When the golden mists are born. 30

6. I love snow, and all the forms Of the radiant frost; I love waves, and winds, and storms, Everything almost Which is Nature's, and may be _35 Untainted by man's misery.

7. I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good Between thee and me _40 What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less.

8. I love Love—though he has wings, And like light can flee, But above all other things, _45 Spirit, I love thee— Thou art love and life! Oh, come, Make once more my heart thy home.

***

MUTABILITY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a fair draft amongst the Boscombe manuscripts.]

1. The flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world's delight? _5 Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright.

2. Virtue, how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love, how it sells poor bliss _10 For proud despair! But we, though soon they fall, Survive their joy, and all Which ours we call.

3. Whilst skies are blue and bright, 15 Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day; Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou—and from thy sleep 20 Then wake to weep.

NOTES: 9 how Boscombe manuscript; too editions 1824, 1839. 12 though soon they fall]though soon we or so soon they cj. Rossetti.

***

LINES WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON.

[Published with "Hellas", 1821.]

What! alive and so bold, O Earth? Art thou not overbold? What! leapest thou forth as of old In the light of thy morning mirth, The last of the flock of the starry fold? _5 Ha! leapest thou forth as of old? Are not the limbs still when the ghost is fled, And canst thou move, Napoleon being dead?

How! is not thy quick heart cold? What spark is alive on thy hearth? 10 How! is not HIS death-knell knolled? And livest THOU still, Mother Earth? Thou wert warming thy fingers old O'er the embers covered and cold Of that most fiery spirit, when it fled— 15 What, Mother, do you laugh now he is dead?

'Who has known me of old,' replied Earth, 'Or who has my story told? It is thou who art overbold.' And the lightning of scorn laughed forth _20 As she sung, 'To my bosom I fold All my sons when their knell is knolled, And so with living motion all are fed, And the quick spring like weeds out of the dead.

'Still alive and still bold,' shouted Earth, 25 'I grow bolder and still more bold. The dead fill me ten thousandfold Fuller of speed, and splendour, and mirth. I was cloudy, and sullen, and cold, Like a frozen chaos uprolled, 30 Till by the spirit of the mighty dead My heart grew warm. I feed on whom I fed.

'Ay, alive and still bold.' muttered Earth, 'Napoleon's fierce spirit rolled, In terror and blood and gold, 35 A torrent of ruin to death from his birth. Leave the millions who follow to mould The metal before it be cold; And weave into his shame, which like the dead Shrouds me, the hopes that from his glory fled.' 40

***

SONNET: POLITICAL GREATNESS.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a transcript, headed "Sonnet to the Republic of Benevento", in the Harvard manuscript book.]

Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame, Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts, Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes tame; Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts, History is but the shadow of their shame, 5 Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts As to oblivion their blind millions fleet, Staining that Heaven with obscene imagery Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit By force or custom? Man who man would be, 10 Must rule the empire of himself; in it Must be supreme, establishing his throne On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.

***

THE AZIOLA.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley in "The Keepsake", 1829.]

1. 'Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh,' Said Mary, as we sate In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought; And I, who thought 5 This Aziola was some tedious woman, Asked, 'Who is Aziola?' How elate I felt to know that it was nothing human, No mockery of myself to fear or hate: And Mary saw my soul, 10 And laughed, and said, 'Disquiet yourself not; 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl.'

2. Sad Aziola! many an eventide Thy music I had heard By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side, 15 And fields and marshes wide,— Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird, The soul ever stirred; Unlike and far sweeter than them all. Sad Aziola! from that moment I 20 Loved thee and thy sad cry.

NOTES: _4 ere stars]ere the stars editions 1839. _9 or]and editions 1839. _19 them]they editions 1839.

***

A LAMENT.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. O world! O life! O time! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime? No more—Oh, never more! _5

2. Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight; Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar, Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight No more—Oh, never more! _10

***

REMEMBRANCE.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824, where it is entitled "A Lament". Three manuscript copies are extant: The Trelawny manuscript ("Remembrance"), the Harvard manuscript ("Song") and the Houghton manuscript—the last written by Shelley on a flyleaf of a copy of "Adonais".]

1. Swifter far than summer's flight— Swifter far than youth's delight— Swifter far than happy night, Art thou come and gone— As the earth when leaves are dead, _5 As the night when sleep is sped, As the heart when joy is fled, I am left lone, alone.

2. The swallow summer comes again— The owlet night resumes her reign— 10 But the wild-swan youth is fain To fly with thee, false as thou.— My heart each day desires the morrow; Sleep itself is turned to sorrow; Vainly would my winter borrow 15 Sunny leaves from any bough.

3. Lilies for a bridal bed— Roses for a matron's head— Violets for a maiden dead— Pansies let MY flowers be: _20 On the living grave I bear Scatter them without a tear— Let no friend, however dear, Waste one hope, one fear for me.

NOTES: _5-_7 So editions 1824, 1839, Trelawny manuscript, Harvard manuscript; As the wood when leaves are shed, As the night when sleep is fled, As the heart when joy is dead Houghton manuscript. _13 So editions 1824, 1839, Harvard manuscript, Houghton manuscript. My heart to-day desires to-morrow Trelawny manuscript. _20 So editions 1824, 1839, Harvard manuscript, Houghton manuscript. Sadder flowers find for me Trelawny manuscript. _24 one hope, one fear]a hope, a fear Trelawny manuscript.

***

TO EDWARD WILLIAMS.

[Published in Ascham's edition of the "Poems", 1834. There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.]

1. The serpent is shut out from Paradise. The wounded deer must seek the herb no more In which its heart-cure lies: The widowed dove must cease to haunt a bower Like that from which its mate with feigned sighs _5 Fled in the April hour. I too must seldom seek again Near happy friends a mitigated pain.

2. Of hatred I am proud,—with scorn content; Indifference, that once hurt me, now is grown 10 Itself indifferent; But, not to speak of love, pity alone Can break a spirit already more than bent. The miserable one Turns the mind's poison into food,— 15 Its medicine is tears,—its evil good.

3. Therefore, if now I see you seldomer, Dear friends, dear FRIEND! know that I only fly Your looks, because they stir Griefs that should sleep, and hopes that cannot die: _20 The very comfort that they minister I scarce can bear, yet I, So deeply is the arrow gone, Should quickly perish if it were withdrawn.

4. When I return to my cold home, you ask 25 Why I am not as I have ever been. YOU spoil me for the task Of acting a forced part in life's dull scene,— Of wearing on my brow the idle mask Of author, great or mean, 30 In the world's carnival. I sought Peace thus, and but in you I found it not.

5. Full half an hour, to-day, I tried my lot With various flowers, and every one still said, 'She loves me—loves me not.' 35 And if this meant a vision long since fled— If it meant fortune, fame, or peace of thought— If it meant,—but I dread To speak what you may know too well: Still there was truth in the sad oracle. 40

6. The crane o'er seas and forests seeks her home; No bird so wild but has its quiet nest, When it no more would roam; The sleepless billows on the ocean's breast Break like a bursting heart, and die in foam, _45 And thus at length find rest: Doubtless there is a place of peace Where MY weak heart and all its throbs will cease.

7. I asked her, yesterday, if she believed That I had resolution. One who HAD 50 Would ne'er have thus relieved His heart with words,—but what his judgement bade Would do, and leave the scorner unrelieved. These verses are too sad To send to you, but that I know, 55 Happy yourself, you feel another's woe.

NOTES: 10 Indifference, which once hurt me, is now grown Trelawny manuscript. 18 Dear friends, dear friend Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition; Dear gentle friend 1834, 1839, 1st edition. 26 ever]lately Trelawny manuscript. 28 in Trelawny manuscript; on 1834, editions 1839, 43 When 1839, 2nd edition; Whence 1834, 1839, 1st edition. 48 will 1839, 2nd edition; shall 1834, 1839, 1st edition. 53 unrelieved Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd. edition; unreprieved 1834, 1839, 1st edition. 54 are]were Trelawny manuscript.

***

TO —.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair _5 For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another.

2. I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not 10 The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not,— The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar 15 From the sphere of our sorrow?

***

TO —.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a Boscombe manuscript.]

1. When passion's trance is overpast, If tenderness and truth could last, Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep Some mortal slumber, dark and deep, I should not weep, I should not weep! _5

2. It were enough to feel, to see, Thy soft eyes gazing tenderly, And dream the rest—and burn and be The secret food of fires unseen, Couldst thou but be as thou hast been, _10

3. After the slumber of the year The woodland violets reappear; All things revive in field or grove, And sky and sea, but two, which move And form all others, life and love. _15

NOTE: _15 form Boscombe manuscript; for editions 1824, 1839.

***

A BRIDAL SONG.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. The golden gates of Sleep unbar Where Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather! Night, with all thy stars look down,— 5 Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,— Never smiled the inconstant moon On a pair so true. Let eyes not see their own delight;— Haste, swift Hour, and thy flight 10 Oft renew.

2. Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her! Holy stars, permit no wrong! And return to wake the sleeper, Dawn,—ere it be long! _15 O joy! O fear! what will be done In the absence of the sun! Come along!

***

EPITHALAMIUM.

ANOTHER VERSION OF THE PRECEDING.

[Published by Medwin, "Life of Shelley", 1847.]

Night, with all thine eyes look down! Darkness shed its holiest dew! When ever smiled the inconstant moon On a pair so true? Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light, _5 Lest eyes see their own delight! Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight Oft renew.

BOYS: O joy! O fear! what may be done In the absence of the sun? 10 Come along! The golden gates of sleep unbar! When strength and beauty meet together, Kindles their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather. 15 Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light, Lest eyes see their own delight! Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight Oft renew.

GIRLS: O joy! O fear! what may be done _20 In the absence of the sun? Come along! Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her! Holiest powers, permit no wrong! And return, to wake the sleeper, _25 Dawn, ere it be long. Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light, Lest eyes see their own delight! Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight Oft renew. _30

BOYS AND GIRLS: O joy! O fear! what will be done In the absence of the sun? Come along!

NOTE: _17 Lest]Let 1847.

***

ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870, from the Trelawny manuscript of Edward Williams's play, "The Promise: or, A Year, a Month, and a Day".]

BOYS SING: Night! with all thine eyes look down! Darkness! weep thy holiest dew! Never smiled the inconstant moon On a pair so true. Haste, coy hour! and quench all light, _5 Lest eyes see their own delight! Haste, swift hour! and thy loved flight Oft renew!

GIRLS SING: Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her! Holy stars! permit no wrong! 10 And return, to wake the sleeper, Dawn, ere it be long! O joy! O fear! there is not one Of us can guess what may be done In the absence of the sun:— 15 Come along!

BOYS: Oh! linger long, thou envious eastern lamp In the damp Caves of the deep!

GIRLS: Nay, return, Vesper! urge thy lazy car! _20 Swift unbar The gates of Sleep!

CHORUS: The golden gate of Sleep unbar, When Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image, like a star 25 In a sea of glassy weather. May the purple mist of love Round them rise, and with them move, Nourishing each tender gem Which, like flowers, will burst from them. 30 As the fruit is to the tree May their children ever be!

***

LOVE, HOPE, DESIRE, AND FEAR.

[Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862. 'A very free translation of Brunetto Latini's "Tesoretto", lines 81-154.'—A.C. Bradley.]

...

And many there were hurt by that strong boy, His name, they said, was Pleasure, And near him stood, glorious beyond measure Four Ladies who possess all empery In earth and air and sea, 5 Nothing that lives from their award is free. Their names will I declare to thee, Love, Hope, Desire, and Fear, And they the regents are Of the four elements that frame the heart, 10 And each diversely exercised her art By force or circumstance or sleight To prove her dreadful might Upon that poor domain. Desire presented her [false] glass, and then 15 The spirit dwelling there Was spellbound to embrace what seemed so fair Within that magic mirror, And dazed by that bright error, It would have scorned the [shafts] of the avenger 20 And death, and penitence, and danger, Had not then silent Fear Touched with her palsying spear, So that as if a frozen torrent The blood was curdled in its current; 25 It dared not speak, even in look or motion, But chained within itself its proud devotion. Between Desire and Fear thou wert A wretched thing, poor heart! Sad was his life who bore thee in his breast, 30 Wild bird for that weak nest. Till Love even from fierce Desire it bought, And from the very wound of tender thought Drew solace, and the pity of sweet eyes Gave strength to bear those gentle agonies, 35 Surmount the loss, the terror, and the sorrow. Then Hope approached, she who can borrow For poor to-day, from rich tomorrow, And Fear withdrew, as night when day Descends upon the orient ray, 40 And after long and vain endurance The poor heart woke to her assurance. —At one birth these four were born With the world's forgotten morn, And from Pleasure still they hold 45 All it circles, as of old. When, as summer lures the swallow, Pleasure lures the heart to follow— O weak heart of little wit! The fair hand that wounded it, 50 Seeking, like a panting hare, Refuge in the lynx's lair, Love, Desire, Hope, and Fear, Ever will be near.

***

FRAGMENTS WRITTEN FOR HELLAS.

[Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.]

1. Fairest of the Destinies, Disarray thy dazzling eyes: Keener far thy lightnings are Than the winged [bolts] thou bearest, And the smile thou wearest _5 Wraps thee as a star Is wrapped in light.

2. Could Arethuse to her forsaken urn From Alpheus and the bitter Doris run, Or could the morning shafts of purest light 10 Again into the quivers of the Sun Be gathered—could one thought from its wild flight Return into the temple of the brain Without a change, without a stain,— Could aught that is, ever again 15 Be what it once has ceased to be, Greece might again be free!

3. A star has fallen upon the earth Mid the benighted nations, A quenchless atom of immortal light, 20 A living spark of Night, A cresset shaken from the constellations. Swifter than the thunder fell To the heart of Earth, the well Where its pulses flow and beat, 25 And unextinct in that cold source Burns, and on ... course Guides the sphere which is its prison, Like an angelic spirit pent In a form of mortal birth, 30 Till, as a spirit half-arisen Shatters its charnel, it has rent, In the rapture of its mirth, The thin and painted garment of the Earth, Ruining its chaos—a fierce breath 35 Consuming all its forms of living death.

***

FRAGMENT: 'I WOULD NOT BE A KING'.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition.]

I would not be a king—enough Of woe it is to love; The path to power is steep and rough, And tempests reign above. I would not climb the imperial throne; 5 'Tis built on ice which fortune's sun Thaws in the height of noon. Then farewell, king, yet were I one, Care would not come so soon. Would he and I were far away 10 Keeping flocks on Himalay!

***

GINEVRA.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824, and dated 'Pisa, 1821.']

Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one Who staggers forth into the air and sun From the dark chamber of a mortal fever, Bewildered, and incapable, and ever Fancying strange comments in her dizzy brain 5 Of usual shapes, till the familiar train Of objects and of persons passed like things Strange as a dreamer's mad imaginings, Ginevra from the nuptial altar went; The vows to which her lips had sworn assent 10 Rung in her brain still with a jarring din, Deafening the lost intelligence within.

And so she moved under the bridal veil, Which made the paleness of her cheek more pale, And deepened the faint crimson of her mouth, _15 And darkened her dark locks, as moonlight doth,— And of the gold and jewels glittering there She scarce felt conscious,—but the weary glare Lay like a chaos of unwelcome light, Vexing the sense with gorgeous undelight, _20 A moonbeam in the shadow of a cloud Was less heavenly fair—her face was bowed, And as she passed, the diamonds in her hair Were mirrored in the polished marble stair Which led from the cathedral to the street; _25 And ever as she went her light fair feet Erased these images.

The bride-maidens who round her thronging came, Some with a sense of self-rebuke and shame, Envying the unenviable; and others Making the joy which should have been another's 30 Their own by gentle sympathy; and some Sighing to think of an unhappy home: Some few admiring what can ever lure Maidens to leave the heaven serene and pure Of parents' smiles for life's great cheat; a thing 35 Bitter to taste, sweet in imagining.

But they are all dispersed—and, lo! she stands Looking in idle grief on her white hands, Alone within the garden now her own; 40 And through the sunny air, with jangling tone, The music of the merry marriage-bells, Killing the azure silence, sinks and swells;— Absorbed like one within a dream who dreams That he is dreaming, until slumber seems 45 A mockery of itself—when suddenly Antonio stood before her, pale as she. With agony, with sorrow, and with pride, He lifted his wan eyes upon the bride, And said—'Is this thy faith?' and then as one 50 Whose sleeping face is stricken by the sun With light like a harsh voice, which bids him rise And look upon his day of life with eyes Which weep in vain that they can dream no more, Ginevra saw her lover, and forbore 55 To shriek or faint, and checked the stifling blood Rushing upon her heart, and unsubdued Said—'Friend, if earthly violence or ill, Suspicion, doubt, or the tyrannic will Of parents, chance or custom, time or change, 60 Or circumstance, or terror, or revenge, Or wildered looks, or words, or evil speech, With all their stings and venom can impeach Our love,—we love not:—if the grave which hides The victim from the tyrant, and divides 65 The cheek that whitens from the eyes that dart Imperious inquisition to the heart That is another's, could dissever ours, We love not.'—'What! do not the silent hours Beckon thee to Gherardi's bridal bed? 70 Is not that ring'—a pledge, he would have said, Of broken vows, but she with patient look The golden circle from her finger took, And said—'Accept this token of my faith, The pledge of vows to be absolved by death; 75 And I am dead or shall be soon—my knell Will mix its music with that merry bell, Does it not sound as if they sweetly said "We toll a corpse out of the marriage-bed"? The flowers upon my bridal chamber strewn 80 Will serve unfaded for my bier—so soon That even the dying violet will not die Before Ginevra.' The strong fantasy Had made her accents weaker and more weak, And quenched the crimson life upon her cheek, 85 And glazed her eyes, and spread an atmosphere Round her, which chilled the burning noon with fear, Making her but an image of the thought Which, like a prophet or a shadow, brought News of the terrors of the coming time. 90 Like an accuser branded with the crime He would have cast on a beloved friend, Whose dying eyes reproach not to the end The pale betrayer—he then with vain repentance Would share, he cannot now avert, the sentence— 95 Antonio stood and would have spoken, when The compound voice of women and of men Was heard approaching; he retired, while she Was led amid the admiring company Back to the palace,—and her maidens soon 100 Changed her attire for the afternoon, And left her at her own request to keep An hour of quiet rest:—like one asleep With open eyes and folded hands she lay, Pale in the light of the declining day. 105

Meanwhile the day sinks fast, the sun is set, And in the lighted hall the guests are met; The beautiful looked lovelier in the light Of love, and admiration, and delight Reflected from a thousand hearts and eyes, _110 Kindling a momentary Paradise. This crowd is safer than the silent wood, Where love's own doubts disturb the solitude; On frozen hearts the fiery rain of wine Falls, and the dew of music more divine _115 Tempers the deep emotions of the time To spirits cradled in a sunny clime:— How many meet, who never yet have met, To part too soon, but never to forget. How many saw the beauty, power and wit _120 Of looks and words which ne'er enchanted yet; But life's familiar veil was now withdrawn, As the world leaps before an earthquake's dawn, And unprophetic of the coming hours, The matin winds from the expanded flowers _125 Scatter their hoarded incense, and awaken The earth, until the dewy sleep is shaken From every living heart which it possesses, Through seas and winds, cities and wildernesses, As if the future and the past were all _130 Treasured i' the instant;—so Gherardi's hall Laughed in the mirth of its lord's festival, Till some one asked—'Where is the Bride?' And then A bridesmaid went,—and ere she came again A silence fell upon the guests—a pause _135 Of expectation, as when beauty awes All hearts with its approach, though unbeheld; Then wonder, and then fear that wonder quelled;— For whispers passed from mouth to ear which drew The colour from the hearer's cheeks, and flew _140 Louder and swifter round the company; And then Gherardi entered with an eye Of ostentatious trouble, and a crowd Surrounded him, and some were weeping loud.

They found Ginevra dead! if it be death _145 To lie without motion, or pulse, or breath, With waxen cheeks, and limbs cold, stiff, and white, And open eyes, whose fixed and glassy light Mocked at the speculation they had owned. If it be death, when there is felt around _150 A smell of clay, a pale and icy glare, And silence, and a sense that lifts the hair From the scalp to the ankles, as it were Corruption from the spirit passing forth, And giving all it shrouded to the earth, _155 And leaving as swift lightning in its flight Ashes, and smoke, and darkness: in our night Of thought we know thus much of death,—no more Than the unborn dream of our life before Their barks are wrecked on its inhospitable shore. _160 The marriage feast and its solemnity Was turned to funeral pomp—the company, With heavy hearts and looks, broke up; nor they Who loved the dead went weeping on their way Alone, but sorrow mixed with sad surprise _165 Loosened the springs of pity in all eyes, On which that form, whose fate they weep in vain, Will never, thought they, kindle smiles again. The lamps which, half extinguished in their haste, Gleamed few and faint o'er the abandoned feast, _170 Showed as it were within the vaulted room A cloud of sorrow hanging, as if gloom Had passed out of men's minds into the air. Some few yet stood around Gherardi there, Friends and relations of the dead,—and he, _175 A loveless man, accepted torpidly The consolation that he wanted not; Awe in the place of grief within him wrought. Their whispers made the solemn silence seem More still—some wept,... _180 Some melted into tears without a sob, And some with hearts that might be heard to throb Leaned on the table and at intervals Shuddered to hear through the deserted halls And corridors the thrilling shrieks which came _185 Upon the breeze of night, that shook the flame Of every torch and taper as it swept From out the chamber where the women kept;— Their tears fell on the dear companion cold Of pleasures now departed; then was knolled _190 The bell of death, and soon the priests arrived, And finding Death their penitent had shrived, Returned like ravens from a corpse whereon A vulture has just feasted to the bone. And then the mourning women came.— _195

...

THE DIRGE.

Old winter was gone In his weakness back to the mountains hoar, And the spring came down From the planet that hovers upon the shore

Where the sea of sunlight encroaches 200 On the limits of wintry night;— If the land, and the air, and the sea, Rejoice not when spring approaches, We did not rejoice in thee, Ginevra! 205

She is still, she is cold On the bridal couch, One step to the white deathbed, And one to the bier, And one to the charnel—and one, oh where? _210 The dark arrow fled In the noon.

Ere the sun through heaven once more has rolled, The rats in her heart Will have made their nest, _215 And the worms be alive in her golden hair, While the Spirit that guides the sun, Sits throned in his flaming chair, She shall sleep.

NOTES: 22 Was]Were cj. Rossetti.old 26 ever 1824; even editions 1839. _37 Bitter editions 1839; Better 1824. _63 wanting in 1824. _103 quiet rest cj. A.C. Bradley; quiet and rest 1824. _129 winds]lands cj. Forman; waves, sands or strands cj. Rossetti. _167 On]In cj. Rossetti.

***

EVENING: PONTE AL MARE, PISA

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a draft amongst the Boscombe manuscripts.]

1. The sun is set; the swallows are asleep; The bats are flitting fast in the gray air; The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep, And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, _5 Wakes not one ripple from its summer dream.

2. There is no dew on the dry grass to-night, Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light; And in the inconstant motion of the breeze _10 The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town.

3. Within the surface of the fleeting river The wrinkled image of the city lay, Immovably unquiet, and forever _15 It trembles, but it never fades away; Go to the... You, being changed, will find it then as now.

4. The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut By darkest barriers of cinereous cloud, _20 Like mountain over mountain huddled—but Growing and moving upwards in a crowd, And over it a space of watery blue, Which the keen evening star is shining through..

NOTES: 6 summer 1839, 2nd edition; silent 1824, 1839, 1st edition. 20 cinereous Boscombe manuscript; enormous editions 1824, 1839.

***

THE BOAT ON THE SERCHIO.

[Published in part (lines 1-61, 88-118) by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; revised and enlarged by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream, Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream, The helm sways idly, hither and thither; Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast, And the oars, and the sails; but 'tis sleeping fast, _5 Like a beast, unconscious of its tether.

The stars burnt out in the pale blue air, And the thin white moon lay withering there; To tower, and cavern, and rift, and tree, The owl and the bat fled drowsily. 10 Day had kindled the dewy woods, And the rocks above and the stream below, And the vapours in their multitudes, And the Apennine's shroud of summer snow, And clothed with light of aery gold 15 The mists in their eastern caves uprolled.

Day had awakened all things that be, The lark and the thrush and the swallow free, And the milkmaid's song and the mower's scythe And the matin-bell and the mountain bee: 20 Fireflies were quenched on the dewy corn, Glow-worms went out on the river's brim, Like lamps which a student forgets to trim: The beetle forgot to wind his horn, The crickets were still in the meadow and hill: 25 Like a flock of rooks at a farmer's gun Night's dreams and terrors, every one, Fled from the brains which are their prey From the lamp's death to the morning ray.

All rose to do the task He set to each, 30 Who shaped us to His ends and not our own; The million rose to learn, and one to teach What none yet ever knew or can be known. And many rose Whose woe was such that fear became desire;— 35 Melchior and Lionel were not among those; They from the throng of men had stepped aside, And made their home under the green hill-side. It was that hill, whose intervening brow Screens Lucca from the Pisan's envious eye, 40 Which the circumfluous plain waving below, Like a wide lake of green fertility, With streams and fields and marshes bare, Divides from the far Apennines—which lie Islanded in the immeasurable air. 45

'What think you, as she lies in her green cove, Our little sleeping boat is dreaming of?' 'If morning dreams are true, why I should guess That she was dreaming of our idleness, And of the miles of watery way _50 We should have led her by this time of day.'-

'Never mind,' said Lionel, 'Give care to the winds, they can bear it well About yon poplar-tops; and see The white clouds are driving merrily, 55 And the stars we miss this morn will light More willingly our return to-night.— How it whistles, Dominic's long black hair! List, my dear fellow; the breeze blows fair: Hear how it sings into the air—' 60

—'Of us and of our lazy motions,' Impatiently said Melchior, 'If I can guess a boat's emotions; And how we ought, two hours before, To have been the devil knows where.' _65 And then, in such transalpine Tuscan As would have killed a Della-Cruscan,

...

So, Lionel according to his art Weaving his idle words, Melchior said: 'She dreams that we are not yet out of bed; _70 We'll put a soul into her, and a heart Which like a dove chased by a dove shall beat.'

...

'Ay, heave the ballast overboard, And stow the eatables in the aft locker.' 'Would not this keg be best a little lowered?' 75 'No, now all's right.' 'Those bottles of warm tea— (Give me some straw)—must be stowed tenderly; Such as we used, in summer after six, To cram in greatcoat pockets, and to mix Hard eggs and radishes and rolls at Eton, 80 And, couched on stolen hay in those green harbours Farmers called gaps, and we schoolboys called arbours, Would feast till eight.'

...

With a bottle in one hand, As if his very soul were at a stand _85 Lionel stood—when Melchior brought him steady:— 'Sit at the helm—fasten this sheet—all ready!'

The chain is loosed, the sails are spread, The living breath is fresh behind, As with dews and sunrise fed, _90 Comes the laughing morning wind;— The sails are full, the boat makes head Against the Serchio's torrent fierce, Then flags with intermitting course, And hangs upon the wave, and stems _95 The tempest of the... Which fervid from its mountain source Shallow, smooth and strong doth come,— Swift as fire, tempestuously It sweeps into the affrighted sea; _100 In morning's smile its eddies coil, Its billows sparkle, toss and boil, Torturing all its quiet light Into columns fierce and bright.

The Serchio, twisting forth 105 Between the marble barriers which it clove At Ripafratta, leads through the dread chasm The wave that died the death which lovers love, Living in what it sought; as if this spasm Had not yet passed, the toppling mountains cling, 110 But the clear stream in full enthusiasm Pours itself on the plain, then wandering Down one clear path of effluence crystalline Sends its superfluous waves, that they may fling At Arno's feet tribute of corn and wine; Then, through the pestilential deserts wild Of tangled marsh and woods of stunted pine, It rushes to the Ocean.

NOTES: _58-_61 List, my dear fellow, the breeze blows fair; How it scatters Dominic's long black hair! Singing of us, and our lazy motions, If I can guess a boat's emotions.'—editions 1824, 1839. _61-_67 Rossetti places these lines conjecturally between lines 51 and 52. _61-_65 'are evidently an alternative version of 48-51' (A.C. Bradley). _95, _96 and stems The tempest of the wanting in editions 1824, 1839. _112 then Boscombe manuscript; until editions 1824, 1839 _114 superfluous Boscombe manuscript; clear editions 1824, 1839. _117 pine Boscombe manuscript; fir editions 1824, 1839.

***

MUSIC.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

1. I pant for the music which is divine, My heart in its thirst is a dying flower; Pour forth the sound like enchanted wine, Loosen the notes in a silver shower; Like a herbless plain, for the gentle rain, _5 I gasp, I faint, till they wake again.

2. Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound, More, oh more,—I am thirsting yet; It loosens the serpent which care has bound Upon my heart to stifle it; _10 The dissolving strain, through every vein, Passes into my heart and brain.

3. As the scent of a violet withered up, Which grew by the brink of a silver lake, When the hot noon has drained its dewy cup, _15 And mist there was none its thirst to slake— And the violet lay dead while the odour flew On the wings of the wind o'er the waters blue—

4. As one who drinks from a charmed cup Of foaming, and sparkling, and murmuring wine, _20 Whom, a mighty Enchantress filling up, Invites to love with her kiss divine...

NOTES: _16 mist 1824; tank 1839, 2nd edition.

***

SONNET TO BYRON.

[Published by Medwin, "The Shelley Papers", 1832 (lines 1-7), and "Life of Shelley", 1847 (lines 1-9, 12-14). Revised and completed from the Boscombe manuscript by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

[I am afraid these verses will not please you, but] If I esteemed you less, Envy would kill Pleasure, and leave to Wonder and Despair The ministration of the thoughts that fill The mind which, like a worm whose life may share A portion of the unapproachable, _5 Marks your creations rise as fast and fair As perfect worlds at the Creator's will.

But such is my regard that nor your power To soar above the heights where others [climb], Nor fame, that shadow of the unborn hour _10 Cast from the envious future on the time, Move one regret for his unhonoured name Who dares these words:—the worm beneath the sod May lift itself in homage of the God.

NOTES: _1 you edition 1870; him 1832; thee 1847. _4 So edition 1870; My soul which as a worm may haply share 1832; My soul which even as a worm may share 1847. _6 your edition 1870; his 1832; thy 1847. _8, _9 So edition 1870 wanting 1832 - But not the blessings of thy happier lot, Nor thy well-won prosperity, and fame 1847. _10, _11 So edition 1870; wanting 1832, 1847. _12-_14 So 1847, edition 1870; wanting 1832.

***

FRAGMENT ON KEATS.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition—ED.]

ON KEATS, WHO DESIRED THAT ON HIS TOMB SHOULD BE INSCRIBED—

'Here lieth One whose name was writ on water. But, ere the breath that could erase it blew, Death, in remorse for that fell slaughter, Death, the immortalizing winter, flew Athwart the stream,—and time's printless torrent grew _5 A scroll of crystal, blazoning the name Of Adonais!

***

FRAGMENT: 'METHOUGHT I WAS A BILLOW IN THE CROWD'.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

Methought I was a billow in the crowd Of common men, that stream without a shore, That ocean which at once is deaf and loud; That I, a man, stood amid many more By a wayside..., which the aspect bore _5 Of some imperial metropolis, Where mighty shapes—pyramid, dome, and tower— Gleamed like a pile of crags—

***

TO-MORROW.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]

Where art thou, beloved To-morrow? When young and old, and strong and weak, Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow, Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,— In thy place—ah! well-a-day! _5 We find the thing we fled—To-day.

***

STANZA.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870. Connected by Dowden with the preceding.]

If I walk in Autumn's even While the dead leaves pass, If I look on Spring's soft heaven,— Something is not there which was Winter's wondrous frost and snow, _5 Summer's clouds, where are they now?

***

FRAGMENT: A WANDERER.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]

He wanders, like a day-appearing dream, Through the dim wildernesses of the mind; Through desert woods and tracts, which seem Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.

***

FRAGMENT: LIFE ROUNDED WITH SLEEP.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition.]

The babe is at peace within the womb; The corpse is at rest within the tomb: We begin in what we end.

***

FRAGMENT: 'I FAINT, I PERISH WITH MY LOVE!'.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

I faint, I perish with my love! I grow Frail as a cloud whose [splendours] pale Under the evening's ever-changing glow: I die like mist upon the gale, And like a wave under the calm I fail. _5

***

FRAGMENT: THE LADY OF THE SOUTH.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

Faint with love, the Lady of the South Lay in the paradise of Lebanon Under a heaven of cedar boughs: the drouth Of love was on her lips; the light was gone Out of her eyes— _5

***

FRAGMENT: ZEPHYRUS THE AWAKENER.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

Come, thou awakener of the spirit's ocean, Zephyr, whom to thy cloud or cave No thought can trace! speed with thy gentle motion!

***

FRAGMENT: RAIN.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

The gentleness of rain was in the wind.

***

FRAGMENT: 'WHEN SOFT WINDS AND SUNNY SKIES'.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]

When soft winds and sunny skies With the green earth harmonize, And the young and dewy dawn, Bold as an unhunted fawn, Up the windless heaven is gone,— _5 Laugh—for ambushed in the day,— Clouds and whirlwinds watch their prey.

***

FRAGMENT: 'AND THAT I WALK THUS PROUDLY CROWNED'.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]

And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal Is that 'tis my distinction; if I fall, I shall not weep out of the vital day, To-morrow dust, nor wear a dull decay.

NOTE: _2 'Tis that is or In that is cj. A.C. Bradley.

***

FRAGMENT: 'THE RUDE WIND IS SINGING'.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]

The rude wind is singing The dirge of the music dead; The cold worms are clinging Where kisses were lately fed.

***

FRAGMENT: 'GREAT SPIRIT'.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.]

Great Spirit whom the sea of boundless thought Nurtures within its unimagined caves, In which thou sittest sole, as in my mind, Giving a voice to its mysterious waves—

***

FRAGMENT: 'O THOU IMMORTAL DEITY'.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition.]

O thou immortal deity Whose throne is in the depth of human thought, I do adjure thy power and thee By all that man may be, by all that he is not, By all that he has been and yet must be! _5

***

FRAGMENT: THE FALSE LAUREL AND THE TRUE.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]

'What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest The wreath to mighty poets only due, Even whilst like a forgotten moon thou wanest? Touch not those leaves which for the eternal few Who wander o'er the Paradise of fame, 5 In sacred dedication ever grew: One of the crowd thou art without a name.' 'Ah, friend, 'tis the false laurel that I wear; Bright though it seem, it is not the same As that which bound Milton's immortal hair; 10 Its dew is poison; and the hopes that quicken Under its chilling shade, though seeming fair, Are flowers which die almost before they sicken.'

***

FRAGMENT: MAY THE LIMNER.

[This and the three following Fragments were edited from manuscript Shelley D1 at the Bodleian Library and published by Mr. C.D. Locock, "Examination", etc., Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1903. They are printed here as belonging probably to the year 1821.]

When May is painting with her colours gay The landscape sketched by April her sweet twin...

***

FRAGMENT: BEAUTY'S HALO.

[Published by Mr. C.D. Locock, "Examination", etc, 1903.]

Thy beauty hangs around thee like Splendour around the moon— Thy voice, as silver bells that strike Upon

***

FRAGMENT: 'THE DEATH KNELL IS RINGING'.

('This reads like a study for "Autumn, A Dirge"' (Locock). Might it not be part of a projected Fit v. of "The Fugitives"?—ED.)

[Published by Mr. C.D. Locock, "Examination", etc., 1903.]

The death knell is ringing The raven is singing The earth worm is creeping The mourners are weeping Ding dong, bell— _5

***

FRAGMENT: 'I STOOD UPON A HEAVEN-CLEAVING TURRET'.

I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret Which overlooked a wide Metropolis— And in the temple of my heart my Spirit Lay prostrate, and with parted lips did kiss The dust of Desolations [altar] hearth— _5 And with a voice too faint to falter It shook that trembling fane with its weak prayer 'Twas noon,—the sleeping skies were blue The city

***

NOTE ON POEMS OF 1821, BY MRS. SHELLEY.

My task becomes inexpressibly painful as the year draws near that which sealed our earthly fate, and each poem, and each event it records, has a real or mysterious connection with the fatal catastrophe. I feel that I am incapable of putting on paper the history of those times. The heart of the man, abhorred of the poet, who could