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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/4800-0.txt b/4800-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68931ae --- /dev/null +++ b/4800-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,59212 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 4800 *** + + + + +THE COMPLETE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +VOLUME 1 + + +OXFORD EDITION. + +INCLUDING MATERIALS NEVER BEFORE +PRINTED IN ANY EDITION OF THE POEMS. + +EDITED WITH TEXTUAL NOTES + +BY + +THOMAS HUTCHINSON, M. A. +EDITOR OF THE OXFORD WORDSWORTH. + +1914. + + +PREFACE. + +This edition of his “Poetical Works” contains all Shelley’s +ascertained poems and fragments of verse that have hitherto appeared +in print. In preparing the volume I have worked as far as possible on +the principle of recognizing the editio princeps as the primary +textual authority. I have not been content to reprint Mrs. Shelley’s +recension of 1839, or that of any subsequent editor of the “Poems”. +The present text is the result of a fresh collation of the early +editions; and in every material instance of departure from the wording +of those originals the rejected reading has been subjoined in a +footnote. Again, wherever—as in the case of “Julian and +Maddalo”—there has appeared to be good reason for superseding the +authority of the editio princeps, the fact is announced, and the +substituted exemplar indicated, in the Prefatory Note. in the case of +a few pieces extant in two or more versions of debatable authority the +alternative text or texts will be found at the [end] of the [relevant +work]; but it may be said once for all that this does not pretend to +be a variorum edition, in the proper sense of the term—the textual +apparatus does not claim to be exhaustive. Thus I have not thought it +necessary to cumber the footnotes with every minute grammatical +correction introduced by Mrs. Shelley, apparently on her own +authority, into the texts of 1839; nor has it come within the scheme +of this edition to record every conjectural emendation adopted or +proposed by Rossetti and others in recent times. But it is hoped that, +up to and including the editions of 1839 at least, no important +variation of the text has been overlooked. Whenever a reading has been +adopted on manuscript authority, a reference to the particular source +has been added below. + +I have been chary of gratuitous interference with the punctuation of +the manuscripts and early editions; in this direction, however, some +revision was indispensable. Even in his most carefully finished “fair +copy” Shelley under-punctuates (Thus in the exquisite autograph “Hunt +MS.” of “Julian and Maddalo”, Mr. Buxton Forman, the most conservative +of editors, finds it necessary to supplement Shelley’s punctuation in +no fewer than ninety-four places.), and sometimes punctuates +capriciously. In the very act of transcribing his mind was apt to +stray from the work in hand to higher things; he would lose himself in +contemplating those airy abstractions and lofty visions of which alone +he greatly cared to sing, to the neglect and detriment of the merely +external and formal element of his song. Shelley recked little of the +jots and tittles of literary craftsmanship; he committed many a small +sin against the rules of grammar, and certainly paid but a halting +attention to the nice distinctions of punctuation. Thus in the early +editions a comma occasionally plays the part of a semicolon; colons +and semicolons seem to be employed interchangeably; a semicolon almost +invariably appears where nowadays we should employ the dash; and, +lastly, the dash itself becomes a point of all work, replacing +indifferently commas, colons, semicolons or periods. Inadequate and +sometimes haphazard as it is, however, Shelley’s punctuation, so far +as it goes, is of great value as an index to his metrical, or at +times, it may be, to his rhetorical intention—for, in Shelley’s +hands, punctuation serves rather to mark the rhythmical pause and +onflow of the verse, or to secure some declamatory effect, than to +indicate the structure or elucidate the sense. For this reason the +original pointing has been retained, save where it tends to obscure or +pervert the poet’s meaning. Amongst the Editor’s Notes at the end of +the Volume 3 the reader will find lists of the punctual variations in +the longer poems, by means of which the supplementary points now added +may be identified, and the original points, which in this edition have +been deleted or else replaced by others, ascertained, in the order of +their occurrence. In the use of capitals Shelley’s practice has been +followed, while an attempt has been made to reduce the number of his +inconsistencies in this regard. + +To have reproduced the spelling of the manuscripts would only have +served to divert attention from Shelley’s poetry to my own ingenuity +in disgusting the reader according to the rules of editorial +punctilio. (I adapt a phrase or two from the preface to “The Revolt of +Islam”.) Shelley was neither very accurate, nor always consistent, in +his spelling. He was, to say the truth, indifferent about all such +matters: indeed, to one absorbed in the spectacle of a world +travailing for lack of the gospel of “Political Justice”, the study of +orthographical niceties must have seemed an occupation for Bedlamites. +Again—as a distinguished critic and editor of Shelley, Professor +Dowden, aptly observes in this connexion—‘a great poet is not of an +age, but for all time.’ Irregular or antiquated forms such as +‘recieve,’ ‘sacrifize,’ ‘tyger,’ ‘gulph,’ ‘desart,’ ‘falshood,’ and +the like, can only serve to distract the reader’s attention, and mar +his enjoyment of the verse. Accordingly Shelley’s eccentricities in +this kind have been discarded, and his spelling reversed in accordance +with modern usage. All weak preterite-forms, whether indicatives or +participles, have been printed with “ed” rather than “t”, participial +adjectives and substantives, such as ‘past,’ alone excepted. In the +case of ‘leap,’ which has two preterite-forms, both employed by +Shelley (See for an example of the longer form, the “Hymn to Mercury”, +18 5, where ‘leaped’ rhymes with ‘heaped’ (line 1). The shorter form, +rhyming to ‘wept,’ ‘adapt,’ etc., occurs more frequently.)—one with +the long vowel of the present-form, the other with a vowel-change (Of +course, wherever this vowel-shortening takes place, whether indicated +by a corresponding change in the spelling or not, “t”, not “ed” is +properly used—‘cleave,’ ‘cleft,’; ‘deal,’ ‘dealt’; etc. The forms +discarded under the general rule laid down above are such as ‘wrackt,’ +‘prankt,’ ‘snatcht,’ ‘kist,’ ‘opprest,’ etc.) like that of ‘crept’ +from ‘creep’—I have not hesitated to print the longer form ‘leaped,’ +and the shorter (after Mr. Henry Sweet’s example) ‘lept,’ in order +clearly to indicate the pronunciation intended by Shelley. In the +editions the two vowel-sounds are confounded under the one spelling, +‘leapt.’ In a few cases Shelley’s spelling, though unusual or +obsolete, has been retained. Thus in ‘aethereal,’ ‘paean,’ and one or +two more words the “ae” will be found, and ‘airy’ still appears as +‘aery’. Shelley seems to have uniformly written ‘lightening’: here the +word is so printed whenever it is employed as a trisyllable; elsewhere +the ordinary spelling has been adopted. (Not a little has been written +about ‘uprest’ (“Revolt of Islam”, 3 21 5), which has been described +as a nonce-word deliberately coined by Shelley ‘on no better warrant +than the exigency of the rhyme.’ There can be little doubt that +‘uprest’ is simply an overlooked misprint for ‘uprist’—not by any +means a nonce-word, but a genuine English verbal substantive of +regular formation, familiar to many from its employment by Chaucer. +True, the corresponding rhyme-words in the passage above referred to +are ‘nest,’ ‘possessed,’ ‘breast’; but a laxity such as +‘nest’—‘uprist’ is quite in Shelley’s manner. Thus in this very poem +we find ‘midst’—‘shed’st’ (6 16), ‘mist’—‘rest’—‘blest’ (5 58), +‘loveliest’—‘mist’—kissed’—‘dressed’ (5 53). Shelley may have first +seen the word in “The Ancient Mariner”; but he employs it more +correctly than Coleridge, who seems to have mistaken it for a +preterite-form (=‘uprose’) whereas in truth it serves either as the +third person singular of the present (=‘upriseth’), or, as here, for +the verbal substantive (=‘uprising’). + +The editor of Shelley to-day enters upon a goodly heritage, the +accumulated gains of a series of distinguished predecessors. Mrs. +Shelley’s two editions of 1839 form the nucleus of the present volume, +and her notes are here reprinted in full; but the arrangement of the +poems differs to some extent from that followed by her—chiefly in +respect of “Queen Mab”, which is here placed at the head of the +“Juvenilia”, instead of at the forefront of the poems of Shelley’s +maturity. In 1862 a slender volume of poems and fragments, entitled +“Relics of Shelley”, was published by Dr. Richard Garnett, C.B.—a +precious sheaf gleaned from the manuscripts preserved at Boscombe +Manor. The “Relics” constitute a salvage second only in value to the +“Posthumous Poems” of 1824. To the growing mass of Shelley’s verse yet +more material was added in 1870 by Mr. William Michael Rossetti, who +edited for Moxon the “Complete Poetical Works” published in that year. +To him we owe in particular a revised and greatly enlarged version of +the fragmentary drama of “Charles I”. But though not seldom successful +in restoring the text, Mr. Rossetti pushed revision beyond the bounds +of prudence, freely correcting grammatical errors, rectifying small +inconsistencies in the sense, and too lightly adopting conjectural +emendations on the grounds of rhyme or metre. In the course of an +article published in the “Westminster Review” for July, 1870, Miss +Mathilde Blind, with the aid of material furnished by Dr. Garnett, +‘was enabled,’ in the words of Mr. Buxton Forman, ‘to supply +omissions, make authoritative emendations, and controvert erroneous +changes’ in Mr. Rossetti’s work; and in the more cautiously edited +text of his later edition, published by Moxon in 1878, may be traced +the influence of her strictures. + +Six years later appeared a variorum edition in which for the first +time Shelley’s text was edited with scientific exactness of method, +and with a due respect for the authority of the original editions. It +would be difficult indeed to over-estimate the gains which have +accrued to the lovers of Shelley from the strenuous labours of Mr. +Harry Buxton Forman, C.B. He too has enlarged the body of Shelley’s +poetry (Mr. Forman’s most notable addition is the second part of “The +Daemon of the World”, which he printed privately in 1876, and included +in his Library Edition of the “Poetical Works” published in the same +year. See the “List of Editions”, etc. at the end of Volume 3.); but, +important as his editions undoubtedly are, it may safely be affirmed +that his services in this direction constitute the least part of what +we owe him. He has vindicated the authenticity of the text in many +places, while in many others he has succeeded, with the aid of +manuscripts, in restoring it. His untiring industry in research, his +wide bibliographical knowledge and experience, above all, his +accuracy, as invariable as it is minute, have combined to make him, in +the words of Professor Dowden, ‘our chief living authority on all that +relates to Shelley’s writings.’ His name stands securely linked for +all time to Shelley’s by a long series of notable words, including +three successive editions (1876, 1882, 1892) of the Poems, an edition +of the Prose Remains, as well as many minor publications—a +Bibliography (“The Shelley Library”, 1886)and several Facsimile +Reprints of the early issues, edited for the Shelley Society. + +To Professor Dowden, whose authoritative Biography of the poet, +published in 1886, was followed in 1890 by an edition of the Poems +(Macmillans), is due the addition of several pieces belonging to the +juvenile period, incorporated by him in the pages of the “Life of +Shelley”. Professor Dowden has also been enabled, with the aid of the +manuscripts placed in his hands, to correct the text of the +“Juvenilia” in many places. In 1893 Professor George E. Woodberry +edited a “Centenary Edition of the Complete Poetical Works”, in which, +to quote his own words, an attempt is made ‘to summarize the labours +of more than half a century on Shelley’s text, and on his biography so +far as the biography is bound up with the text.’ In this Centenary +edition the textual variations found in the Harvard College +manuscripts, as well as those in the manuscripts belonging to Mr. +Frederickson of Brooklyn, are fully recorded. Professor Woodberry’s +text is conservative on the whole, but his revision of the punctuation +is drastic, and occasionally sacrifices melody to perspicuity. + +In 1903 Mr. C.D. Locock published, in a quarto volume of seventy-five +pages, the fruits of a careful scrutiny of the Shelley manuscripts now +lodged in the Bodleian Library. Mr. Locock succeeded in recovering +several inedited fragments of verse and prose. Amongst the poems +chiefly concerned in the results of his “Examination” may be named +“Marenghi”, “Prince Athanase”, “The Witch of Atlas”, “To Constantia”, +the “Ode to Naples”, and (last, not least) “Prometheus Unbound”. Full +use has been made in this edition of Mr. Locock’s collations, and the +fragments recovered and printed by him are included in the text. +Variants derived from the Bodleian manuscripts are marked “B.” in the +footnotes. + +On the state of the text generally, and the various quarters in which +it lies open to conjectural emendation, I cannot do better than quote +the following succinct and luminous account from a “Causerie” on the +Shelley manuscripts in the Bodleian Library, contributed by Dr. +Richard Garnett, C.B., to the columns of “The Speaker” of December 19, +1903:— + +‘From the textual point of view, Shelley’s works may be divided into +three classes—those published in his lifetime under his own +direction; those also published in his lifetime, but in his absence +from the press; and those published after his death. The first class +includes “Queen Mab”, “The Revolt of Islam”, and “Alastor” with its +appendages, published in England before his final departure for the +continent; and “The Cenci” and “Adonais”, printed under his own eye at +Leghorn and Pisa respectively. Except for some provoking but +corrigible misprints in “The Revolt of Islam” and one crucial passage +in “Alastor”, these poems afford little material for conjectural +emendation; for the Alexandrines now and then left in the middle of +stanzas in “The Revolt of Islam” must remain untouched, as proceeding +not from the printer’s carelessness but the author’s. The second +class, poems printed during Shelley’s lifetime, but not under his +immediate inspection, comprise “Prometheus Unbound” and “Rosalind and +Helen”, together with the pieces which accompanied them, +“Epipsychidion”, “Hellas”, and “Swellfoot the Tyrant”. The correction +of the most important of these, the “Prometheus”, was the least +satisfactory. Shelley, though speaking plainly to the publisher, +rather hints than expresses his dissatisfaction when writing to +Gisborne, the corrector, but there is a pretty clear hint when on a +subsequent occasion he says to him, “I have received ‘Hellas’, which +is prettily printed, and with fewer mistakes than any poem I ever +published.” This also was probably not without influence on his +determination to have “The Cenci” and “Adonais” printed in Italy...Of +the third class of Shelley’s writings—those which were first +published after his death—sufficient facsimiles have been published +to prove that Trelawny’s graphic description of the chaotic state of +most of them was really in no respect exaggerated...The difficulty is +much augmented by the fact that these pieces are rarely consecutive, +but literally disiecti membra poetae, scattered through various +notebooks in a way to require piecing together as well as deciphering. +The editors of the Posthumous Poems, moreover, though diligent +according to their light, were neither endowed with remarkable acumen +nor possessed of the wide knowledge requisite for the full +intelligence of so erudite a poet as Shelley, hence the perpetration +of numerous mistakes. Some few of the manuscripts, indeed, such as +those of “The Witch of Atlas”, “Julian and Maddalo”, and the “Lines at +Naples”, were beautifully written out for the press in Shelley’s best +hand, but their very value and beauty necessitated the ordeal of +transcription, with disastrous results in several instances. An entire +line dropped out of the “Lines at Naples”, and although “Julian and +Maddalo” was extant in more than one very clear copy, the printed text +had several such sense-destroying errors as “least” for “lead”. + +‘The corrupt state of the text has stimulated the ingenuity of +numerous correctors, who have suggested many acute and convincing +emendations, and some very specious ones which sustained scrutiny has +proved untenable. It should be needless to remark that success has in +general been proportionate to the facilities of access to the +manuscripts, which have only of late become generally available. If +Shelley is less fortunate than most modern poets in the purity of his +text, he is more fortunate than many in the preservation of his +manuscripts. These have not, as regards a fair proportion, been +destroyed or dispersed at auctions, but were protected from either +fate by their very character as confused memoranda. As such they +remained in the possession of Shelley’s widow, and passed from her to +her son and daughter-in-law. After Sir Percy Shelley’s death, Lady +Shelley took the occasion of the erection of the monument to Shelley +at University College, Oxford, to present [certain of] the manuscripts +to the Bodleian Library, and verse and sculpture form an imperishable +memorial of his connection with the University where his residence was +so brief and troubled.’ (Dr. Garnett proceeds:—‘The most important of +the Bodleian manuscripts is that of “Prometheus Unbound”, which, says +Mr. Locock, has the appearance of being an intermediate draft, and +also the first copy made. This should confer considerable authority on +its variations from the accepted text, as this appears to have been +printed from a copy not made by Shelley himself. “My ‘Prometheus’,” he +writes to Ollier on September 6, 1819, “is now being transcribed,” an +expression which he would hardly have used if he had himself been the +copyist. He wished the proofs to be sent to him in Italy for +correction, but to this Ollier objected, and on May 14, 1820, Shelley +signifies his acquiescence, adding, however, “In this case I shall +repose trust in your care respecting the correction of the press; Mr. +Gisborne will revise it; he heard it recited, and will therefore more +readily seize any error.” This confidence in the accuracy of +Gisborne’s verbal memory is touching! From a letter to Gisborne on May +26 following it appears that the offer to correct came from him, and +that Shelley sent him “two little papers of corrections and +additions,” which were probably made use of, or the fact would have +been made known. In the case of additions this may satisfactorily +account for apparent omissions in the Bodleian manuscript. Gisborne, +after all, did not prove fully up to the mark. “It is to be +regretted,” writes Shelley to Ollier on November 20, “that the errors +of the press are so numerous,” adding, “I shall send you the list of +errata in a day or two.” This was probably “the list of errata written +by Shelley himself,” from which Mrs. Shelley corrected the edition of +1839.’) + +In placing “Queen Mab” at the head of the “Juvenilia” I have followed +the arrangement adopted by Mr. Buxton Forman in his Library Edition of +1876. I have excluded “The Wandering Jew”, having failed to satisfy +myself of the sufficiency of the grounds on which, in certain +quarters, it is accepted as the work of Shelley. The shorter fragments +are printed, as in Professor Dowden’s edition of 1890, along with the +miscellaneous poems of the years to which they severally belong, under +titles which are sometimes borrowed from Mr. Buxton Forman, sometimes +of my own choosing. I have added a few brief Editor’s Notes, mainly on +textual questions, at the end of the book. Of the poverty of my work +in this direction I am painfully aware; but in the present edition the +ordinary reader will, it is hoped, find an authentic, complete, and +accurately printed text, and, if this be so, the principal end and aim +of the OXFORD SHELLEY will have been attained. + +I desire cordially to acknowledge the courtesy of Mr. H. Buxton +Forman, C.B., by whose kind sanction the second part of “The Daemon +the World” appears in this volume. And I would fain express my deep +sense of obligation for manifold information and guidance, derived +from Mr. Buxton Forman’s various editions, reprints and other +publications—especially from the monumental Library Edition of 1876. +Acknowledgements are also due to the poet’s grandson, Charles E.J. +Esdaile, Esq., for permission to include the early poems first printed +in Professor Dowden’s “Life of Shelley”; and to Mr. C.D. Locock, for +leave to make full use of the material contained in his interesting +and stimulating volume. To Dr. Richard Garnett, C.B., and to Professor +Dowden, cordial thanks are hereby tendered for good counsel cheerfully +bestowed. To two of the editors of the Shelley Society Reprints, Mr. +Thomas J. Wise and Mr. Robert A. Potts—both generously communicative +collectors—I am deeply indebted for the gift or loan of scarce +volumes, as well as for many kind offices in other ways. Lastly, to +the staff of the Oxford University Press my heartiest thanks are +owing, for their unremitting care in all that relates to the printing +and correcting of the sheets. + +THOMAS HUTCHINSON. + +December, 1904. + +POSTSCRIPT. + +In a valuable paper, ‘Notes on Passages in Shelley,’ contributed to +“The Modern Language Review” (October, 1905), Mr. A.C. Bradley +discussed, amongst other things, some fifty places in the text of +Shelley’s verse, and indicated certain errors and omissions in this +edition. With the aid of these “Notes” the editor has now carefully +revised the text, and has in many places adopted the suggestions or +conclusions of their accomplished author. + +June, 1913. + + + + + +PREFACE BY MRS. SHELLEY + +TO FIRST COLLECTED EDITION, 1839. + +Obstacles have long existed to my presenting the public with a perfect +edition of Shelley’s Poems. These being at last happily removed, I +hasten to fulfil an important duty,—that of giving the productions of +a sublime genius to the world, with all the correctness possible, and +of, at the same time, detailing the history of those productions, as +they sprang, living and warm, from his heart and brain. I abstain from +any remark on the occurrences of his private life, except inasmuch as +the passions which they engendered inspired his poetry. This is not +the time to relate the truth; and I should reject any colouring of the +truth. No account of these events has ever been given at all +approaching reality in their details, either as regards himself or +others; nor shall I further allude to them than to remark that the +errors of action committed by a man as noble and generous as Shelley, +may, as far as he only is concerned, be fearlessly avowed by those who +loved him, in the firm conviction that, were they judged impartially, +his character would stand in fairer and brighter light than that of +any contemporary. Whatever faults he had ought to find extenuation +among his fellows, since they prove him to be human; without them, the +exalted nature of his soul would have raised him into something +divine. + +The qualities that struck any one newly introduced to Shelley +were,—First, a gentle and cordial goodness that animated his +intercourse with warm affection and helpful sympathy. The other, the +eagerness and ardour with which he was attached to the cause of human +happiness and improvement; and the fervent eloquence with which he +discussed such subjects. His conversation was marked by its happy +abundance, and the beautiful language in which he clothed his poetic +ideas and philosophical notions. To defecate life of its misery and +its evil was the ruling passion of his soul; he dedicated to it every +power of his mind, every pulsation of his heart. He looked on +political freedom as the direct agent to effect the happiness of +mankind; and thus any new-sprung hope of liberty inspired a joy and an +exultation more intense and wild than he could have felt for any +personal advantage. Those who have never experienced the workings of +passion on general and unselfish subjects cannot understand this; and +it must be difficult of comprehension to the younger generation rising +around, since they cannot remember the scorn and hatred with which the +partisans of reform were regarded some few years ago, nor the +persecutions to which they were exposed. He had been from youth the +victim of the state of feeling inspired by the reaction of the French +Revolution; and believing firmly in the justice and excellence of his +views, it cannot be wondered that a nature as sensitive, as impetuous, +and as generous as his, should put its whole force into the attempt to +alleviate for others the evils of those systems from which he had +himself suffered. Many advantages attended his birth; he spurned them +all when balanced with what he considered his duties. He was generous +to imprudence, devoted to heroism. + +These characteristics breathe throughout his poetry. The struggle for +human weal; the resolution firm to martyrdom; the impetuous pursuit, +the glad triumph in good; the determination not to despair;—such were +the features that marked those of his works which he regarded with +most complacency, as sustained by a lofty subject and useful aim. + +In addition to these, his poems may be divided into two classes,—the +purely imaginative, and those which sprang from the emotions of his +heart. Among the former may be classed the “Witch of Atlas”, +“Adonais”, and his latest composition, left imperfect, the “Triumph of +Life”. In the first of these particularly he gave the reins to his +fancy, and luxuriated in every idea as it rose; in all there is that +sense of mystery which formed an essential portion of his perception +of life—a clinging to the subtler inner spirit, rather than to the +outward form—a curious and metaphysical anatomy of human passion and +perception. + +The second class is, of course, the more popular, as appealing at once +to emotions common to us all; some of these rest on the passion of +love; others on grief and despondency; others on the sentiments +inspired by natural objects. Shelley’s conception of love was exalted, +absorbing, allied to all that is purest and noblest in our nature, and +warmed by earnest passion; such it appears when he gave it a voice in +verse. Yet he was usually averse to expressing these feelings, except +when highly idealized; and many of his more beautiful effusions he had +cast aside unfinished, and they were never seen by me till after I had +lost him. Others, as for instance “Rosalind and Helen” and “Lines +written among the Euganean Hills”, I found among his papers by chance; +and with some difficulty urged him to complete them. There are others, +such as the “Ode to the Skylark and The Cloud”, which, in the opinion +of many critics, bear a purer poetical stamp than any other of his +productions. They were written as his mind prompted: listening to the +carolling of the bird, aloft in the azure sky of Italy; or marking the +cloud as it sped across the heavens, while he floated in his boat on +the Thames. + +No poet was ever warmed by a more genuine and unforced inspiration. +His extreme sensibility gave the intensity of passion to his +intellectual pursuits; and rendered his mind keenly alive to every +perception of outward objects, as well as to his internal sensations. +Such a gift is, among the sad vicissitudes of human life, the +disappointments we meet, and the galling sense of our own mistakes and +errors, fraught with pain; to escape from such, he delivered up his +soul to poetry, and felt happy when he sheltered himself, from the +influence of human sympathies, in the wildest regions of fancy. His +imagination has been termed too brilliant, his thoughts too subtle. He +loved to idealize reality; and this is a taste shared by few. We are +willing to have our passing whims exalted into passions, for this +gratifies our vanity; but few of us understand or sympathize with the +endeavour to ally the love of abstract beauty, and adoration of +abstract good, the to agathon kai to kalon of the Socratic +philosophers, with our sympathies with our kind. In this, Shelley +resembled Plato; both taking more delight in the abstract and the +ideal than in the special and tangible. This did not result from +imitation; for it was not till Shelley resided in Italy that he made +Plato his study. He then translated his “Symposium” and his “Ion”; and +the English language boasts of no more brilliant composition than +Plato’s Praise of Love translated by Shelley. To return to his own +poetry. The luxury of imagination, which sought nothing beyond itself +(as a child burdens itself with spring flowers, thinking of no use +beyond the enjoyment of gathering them), often showed itself in his +verses: they will be only appreciated by minds which have resemblance +to his own; and the mystic subtlety of many of his thoughts will share +the same fate. The metaphysical strain that characterizes much of what +he has written was, indeed, the portion of his works to which, apart +from those whose scope was to awaken mankind to aspirations for what +he considered the true and good, he was himself particularly attached. +There is much, however, that speaks to the many. When he would consent +to dismiss these huntings after the obscure (which, entwined with his +nature as they were, he did with difficulty), no poet ever expressed +in sweeter, more heart-reaching, or more passionate verse, the gentler +or more forcible emotions of the soul. + +A wise friend once wrote to Shelley: ‘You are still very young, and in +certain essential respects you do not yet sufficiently perceive that +you are so.’ It is seldom that the young know what youth is, till they +have got beyond its period; and time was not given him to attain this +knowledge. It must be remembered that there is the stamp of such +inexperience on all he wrote; he had not completed his +nine-and-twentieth year when he died. The calm of middle life did not +add the seal of the virtues which adorn maturity to those generated by +the vehement spirit of youth. Through life also he was a martyr to +ill-health, and constant pain wound up his nerves to a pitch of +susceptibility that rendered his views of life different from those of +a man in the enjoyment of healthy sensations. Perfectly gentle and +forbearing in manner, he suffered a good deal of internal +irritability, or rather excitement, and his fortitude to bear was +almost always on the stretch; and thus, during a short life, he had +gone through more experience of sensation than many whose existence is +protracted. ‘If I die to-morrow,’ he said, on the eve of his +unanticipated death, ‘I have lived to be older than my father.’ The +weight of thought and feeling burdened him heavily; you read his +sufferings in his attenuated frame, while you perceived the mastery he +held over them in his animated countenance and brilliant eyes. + +He died, and the world showed no outward sign. But his influence over +mankind, though slow in growth, is fast augmenting; and, in the +ameliorations that have taken place in the political state of his +country, we may trace in part the operation of his arduous struggles. +His spirit gathers peace in its new state from the sense that, though +late, his exertions were not made in vain, and in the progress of the +liberty he so fondly loved. + +He died, and his place, among those who knew him intimately, has never +been filled up. He walked beside them like a spirit of good to comfort +and benefit—to enlighten the darkness of life with irradiations of +genius, to cheer it with his sympathy and love. Any one, once attached +to Shelley, must feel all other affections, however true and fond, as +wasted on barren soil in comparison. It is our best consolation to +know that such a pure-minded and exalted being was once among us, and +now exists where we hope one day to join him;—although the +intolerant, in their blindness, poured down anathemas, the Spirit of +Good, who can judge the heart, never rejected him. + +In the notes appended to the poems I have endeavoured to narrate the +origin and history of each. The loss of nearly all letters and papers +which refer to his early life renders the execution more imperfect +than it would otherwise have been. I have, however, the liveliest +recollection of all that was done and said during the period of my +knowing him. Every impression is as clear as if stamped yesterday, and +I have no apprehension of any mistake in my statements as far as they +go. In other respects I am indeed incompetent: but I feel the +importance of the task, and regard it as my most sacred duty. I +endeavour to fulfil it in a manner he would himself approve; and hope, +in this publication, to lay the first stone of a monument due to +Shelley’s genius, his sufferings, and his virtues:— + +Se al seguir son tarda, +Forse avverra che ‘l bel nome gentile +Consacrero con questa stanca penna. + + +POSTSCRIPT IN SECOND EDITION OF 1839. + +In revising this new edition, and carefully consulting Shelley’s +scattered and confused papers, I found a few fragments which had +hitherto escaped me, and was enabled to complete a few poems hitherto +left unfinished. What at one time escapes the searching eye, dimmed by +its own earnestness, becomes clear at a future period. By the aid of a +friend, I also present some poems complete and correct which hitherto +have been defaced by various mistakes and omissions. It was suggested +that the poem “To the Queen of my Heart” was falsely attributed to +Shelley. I certainly find no trace of it among his papers; and, as +those of his intimate friends whom I have consulted never heard of it, +I omit it. + +Two poems are added of some length, “Swellfoot the Tyrant” and “Peter +Bell the Third”. I have mentioned the circumstances under which they +were written in the notes; and need only add that they are conceived +in a very different spirit from Shelley’s usual compositions. They are +specimens of the burlesque and fanciful; but, although they adopt a +familiar style and homely imagery, there shine through the radiance of +the poet’s imagination the earnest views and opinions of the +politician and the moralist. + +At my request the publisher has restored the omitted passages of +“Queen Mab”. I now present this edition as a complete collection of my +husband’s poetical works, and I do not foresee that I can hereafter +add to or take away a word or line. + +Putney, November 6, 1839. + + +PREFACE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +TO THE VOLUME OF POSTHUMOUS POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1824. + +In nobil sangue vita umile e queta, +Ed in alto intelletto un puro core +Frutto senile in sul giovenil fibre, +E in aspetto pensoso anima lieta.—PETRARCA. + +It had been my wish, on presenting the public with the Posthumous +Poems of Mr. Shelley, to have accompanied them by a biographical +notice; as it appeared to me that at this moment a narration of the +events of my husband’s life would come more gracefully from other +hands than mine, I applied to Mr. Leigh Hunt. The distinguished +friendship that Mr. Shelley felt for him, and the enthusiastic +affection with which Mr. Leigh Hunt clings to his friend’s memory, +seemed to point him out as the person best calculated for such an +undertaking. His absence from this country, which prevented our mutual +explanation, has unfortunately rendered my scheme abortive. I do not +doubt but that on some other occasion he will pay this tribute to his +lost friend, and sincerely regret that the volume which I edit has not +been honoured by its insertion. + +The comparative solitude in which Mr. Shelley lived was the occasion +that he was personally known to few; and his fearless enthusiasm in +the cause which he considered the most sacred upon earth, the +improvement of the moral and physical state of mankind, was the chief +reason why he, like other illustrious reformers, was pursued by hatred +and calumny. No man was ever more devoted than he to the endeavour of +making those around him happy; no man ever possessed friends more +unfeignedly attached to him. The ungrateful world did not feel his +loss, and the gap it made seemed to close as quickly over his memory +as the murderous sea above his living frame. Hereafter men will lament +that his transcendent powers of intellect were extinguished before +they had bestowed on them their choicest treasures. To his friends his +loss is irremediable: the wise, the brave, the gentle, is gone for +ever! He is to them as a bright vision, whose radiant track, left +behind in the memory, is worth all the realities that society can +afford. Before the critics contradict me, let them appeal to any one +who had ever known him. To see him was to love him: and his presence, +like Ithuriel’s spear, was alone sufficient to disclose the falsehood +of the tale which his enemies whispered in the ear of the ignorant +world. + +His life was spent in the contemplation of Nature, in arduous study, +or in acts of kindness and affection. He was an elegant scholar and a +profound metaphysician; without possessing much scientific knowledge, +he was unrivalled in the justness and extent of his observations on +natural objects; he knew every plant by its name, and was familiar +with the history and habits of every production of the earth; he could +interpret without a fault each appearance in the sky; and the varied +phenomena of heaven and earth filled him with deep emotion. He made +his study and reading-room of the shadowed copse, the stream, the +lake, and the waterfall. Ill health and continual pain preyed upon his +powers; and the solitude in which we lived, particularly on our first +arrival in Italy, although congenial to his feelings, must frequently +have weighed upon his spirits; those beautiful and affecting “Lines +written in Dejection near Naples” were composed at such an interval; +but, when in health, his spirits were buoyant and youthful to an +extraordinary degree. + +Such was his love for Nature that every page of his poetry is +associated, in the minds of his friends, with the loveliest scenes of +the countries which he inhabited. In early life he visited the most +beautiful parts of this country and Ireland. Afterwards the Alps of +Switzerland became his inspirers. “Prometheus Unbound” was written +among the deserted and flower-grown ruins of Rome; and, when he made +his home under the Pisan hills, their roofless recesses harboured him +as he composed the “Witch of Atlas”, “Adonais”, and “Hellas”. In the +wild but beautiful Bay of Spezzia, the winds and waves which he loved +became his playmates. His days were chiefly spent on the water; the +management of his boat, its alterations and improvements, were his +principal occupation. At night, when the unclouded moon shone on the +calm sea, he often went alone in his little shallop to the rocky caves +that bordered it, and, sitting beneath their shelter, wrote the +“Triumph of Life”, the last of his productions. The beauty but +strangeness of this lonely place, the refined pleasure which he felt +in the companionship of a few selected friends, our entire +sequestration from the rest of the world, all contributed to render +this period of his life one of continued enjoyment. I am convinced +that the two months we passed there were the happiest which he had +ever known: his health even rapidly improved, and he was never better +than when I last saw him, full of spirits and joy, embark for Leghorn, +that he might there welcome Leigh Hunt to Italy. I was to have +accompanied him; but illness confined me to my room, and thus put the +seal on my misfortune. His vessel bore out of sight with a favourable +wind, and I remained awaiting his return by the breakers of that sea +which was about to engulf him. + +He spent a week at Pisa, employed in kind offices toward his friend, +and enjoying with keen delight the renewal of their intercourse. He +then embarked with Mr. Williams, the chosen and beloved sharer of his +pleasures and of his fate, to return to us. We waited for them in +vain; the sea by its restless moaning seemed to desire to inform us of +what we would not learn:—but a veil may well be drawn over such +misery. The real anguish of those moments transcended all the fictions +that the most glowing imagination ever portrayed; our seclusion, the +savage nature of the inhabitants of the surrounding villages, and our +immediate vicinity to the troubled sea, combined to imbue with strange +horror our days of uncertainty. The truth was at last known,—a truth +that made our loved and lovely Italy appear a tomb, its sky a pall. +Every heart echoed the deep lament, and my only consolation was in the +praise and earnest love that each voice bestowed and each countenance +demonstrated for him we had lost,—not, I fondly hope, for ever; his +unearthly and elevated nature is a pledge of the continuation of his +being, although in an altered form. Rome received his ashes; they are +deposited beneath its weed-grown wall, and ‘the world’s sole monument’ +is enriched by his remains. + +I must add a few words concerning the contents of this volume. “Julian +and Maddalo”, the “Witch of Atlas”, and most of the “Translations”, +were written some years ago; and, with the exception of the “Cyclops”, +and the Scenes from the “Magico Prodigioso”, may be considered as +having received the author’s ultimate corrections. The “Triumph of +Life” was his last work, and was left in so unfinished a state that I +arranged it in its present form with great difficulty. All his poems +which were scattered in periodical works are collected in this volume, +and I have added a reprint of “Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude”: +the difficulty with which a copy can be obtained is the cause of its +republication. Many of the Miscellaneous Poems, written on the spur of +the occasion, and never retouched, I found among his manuscript books, +and have carefully copied. I have subjoined, whenever I have been +able, the date of their composition. + +I do not know whether the critics will reprehend the insertion of some +of the most imperfect among them; but I frankly own that I have been +more actuated by the fear lest any monument of his genius should +escape me than the wish of presenting nothing but what was complete to +the fastidious reader. I feel secure that the lovers of Shelley’s +poetry (who know how, more than any poet of the present day, every +line and word he wrote is instinct with peculiar beauty) will pardon +and thank me: I consecrate this volume to them. + +The size of this collection has prevented the insertion of any prose +pieces. They will hereafter appear in a separate publication. + +MARY W. SHELLEY. + +London, June 1, 1824. + +*** + +CONTENTS. + +EDITOR’S PREFACE. + +MRS. SHELLEY’S PREFACE TO FIRST COLLECTED EDITION, 1839. + +POSTSCRIPT IN SECOND EDITION OF 1839. + +MRS. SHELLEY’S PREFACE TO “POSTHUMOUS POEMS”, 1824. + +THE DAEMON OF THE WORLD. A FRAGMENT. +PART 1. +PART 2. + +ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRiT OF SOLITUDE. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +THE REVOLT OF ISLAM. A POEM IN TWELVE CANTOS. +PREFACE. +DEDICATION: TO MARY — —. +CANTO 1. +CANTO 2. +CANTO 3. +CANTO 4. +CANTO 5. +CANTO 6. +CANTO 7. +CANTO 8. +CANTO 9. +CANTO 10. +CANTO 11. +CANTO 12. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +PRINCE ATHANASE. A FRAGMENT. + +ROSALIND AND HELEN. A MODERN ECLOGUE. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +JULIAN AND MADDALO. A CONVERSATION. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. A LYRICAL DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS. +PREFACE. +ACT 1. +ACT 2. +ACT 3. +ACT 4. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +THE CENCI. A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. +DEDICATION, TO LEIGH HUNT, ESQUIRE. +PREFACE +ACT 1. +ACT 2. +ACT 3. +ACT 4. +ACT 5. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +THE MASK OF ANARCHY. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +PETER BELL THE THIRD. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +LETTER TO MARIA GISBORNE. + +THE WITCH OF ATLAS. +TO MARY. +THE WITCH OF ATLAS. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +OEDIPUS TYRANNUS; OR, SWELLFOOT THE TYRANT. A TRAGEDY IN TWO ACTS. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +EPIPSYCHIDION. +FRAGMENTS CONNECTED WITH EPIPSYCHIDION. + +ADONAIS. AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN KEATS. +PREFACE. +ADONAIS. +CANCELLED PASSAGES. + +HELLAS. A LYRICAL DRAMA. +PREFACE. +PROLOGUE. +HELLAS. +SHELLEY’S NOTES. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +FRAGMENTS OF AN UNFINISHED DRAMA. + +CHARLES THE FIRST. + +THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE. + +CANCELLED OPENING. + + +*** + + +THE DAEMON OF THE WORLD. + +A FRAGMENT. + +PART 1. + +[Sections 1 and 2 of “Queen Mab” rehandled, and published by Shelley +in the “Alastor” volume, 1816. See “Bibliographical List”, and the +Editor’s Introductory Note to “Queen Mab”.] + +Nec tantum prodere vati, +Quantum scire licet. Venit aetas omnis in unam +Congeriem, miserumque premunt tot saecula pectus. +LUCAN, Phars. v. 176. + +How wonderful is Death, +Death and his brother Sleep! +One pale as yonder wan and horned moon, +With lips of lurid blue, +The other glowing like the vital morn, _5 +When throned on ocean’s wave +It breathes over the world: +Yet both so passing strange and wonderful! + +Hath then the iron-sceptred Skeleton, +Whose reign is in the tainted sepulchres, _10 +To the hell dogs that couch beneath his throne +Cast that fair prey? Must that divinest form, +Which love and admiration cannot view +Without a beating heart, whose azure veins +Steal like dark streams along a field of snow, _15 +Whose outline is as fair as marble clothed +In light of some sublimest mind, decay? +Nor putrefaction’s breath +Leave aught of this pure spectacle +But loathsomeness and ruin?— _20 +Spare aught but a dark theme, +On which the lightest heart might moralize? +Or is it but that downy-winged slumbers +Have charmed their nurse coy Silence near her lids +To watch their own repose? _25 +Will they, when morning’s beam +Flows through those wells of light, +Seek far from noise and day some western cave, +Where woods and streams with soft and pausing winds +A lulling murmur weave?— _30 +Ianthe doth not sleep +The dreamless sleep of death: +Nor in her moonlight chamber silently +Doth Henry hear her regular pulses throb, +Or mark her delicate cheek _35 +With interchange of hues mock the broad moon, +Outwatching weary night, +Without assured reward. +Her dewy eyes are closed; +On their translucent lids, whose texture fine _40 +Scarce hides the dark blue orbs that burn below +With unapparent fire, +The baby Sleep is pillowed: +Her golden tresses shade +The bosom’s stainless pride, _45 +Twining like tendrils of the parasite +Around a marble column. + +Hark! whence that rushing sound? +’Tis like a wondrous strain that sweeps +Around a lonely ruin _50 +When west winds sigh and evening waves respond +In whispers from the shore: +’Tis wilder than the unmeasured notes +Which from the unseen lyres of dells and groves +The genii of the breezes sweep. _55 +Floating on waves of music and of light, +The chariot of the Daemon of the World +Descends in silent power: +Its shape reposed within: slight as some cloud +That catches but the palest tinge of day _60 +When evening yields to night, +Bright as that fibrous woof when stars indue +Its transitory robe. +Four shapeless shadows bright and beautiful +Draw that strange car of glory, reins of light _65 +Check their unearthly speed; they stop and fold +Their wings of braided air: +The Daemon leaning from the ethereal car +Gazed on the slumbering maid. +Human eye hath ne’er beheld _70 +A shape so wild, so bright, so beautiful, +As that which o’er the maiden’s charmed sleep +Waving a starry wand, +Hung like a mist of light. +Such sounds as breathed around like odorous winds _75 +Of wakening spring arose, +Filling the chamber and the moonlight sky. +Maiden, the world’s supremest spirit +Beneath the shadow of her wings +Folds all thy memory doth inherit _80 +From ruin of divinest things, +Feelings that lure thee to betray, +And light of thoughts that pass away. +For thou hast earned a mighty boon, +The truths which wisest poets see _85 +Dimly, thy mind may make its own, +Rewarding its own majesty, +Entranced in some diviner mood +Of self-oblivious solitude. + +Custom, and Faith, and Power thou spurnest; _90 +From hate and awe thy heart is free; +Ardent and pure as day thou burnest, +For dark and cold mortality +A living light, to cheer it long, +The watch-fires of the world among. _95 + +Therefore from nature’s inner shrine, +Where gods and fiends in worship bend, +Majestic spirit, be it thine +The flame to seize, the veil to rend, +Where the vast snake Eternity _100 +In charmed sleep doth ever lie. + +All that inspires thy voice of love, +Or speaks in thy unclosing eyes, +Or through thy frame doth burn or move, +Or think or feel, awake, arise! _105 +Spirit, leave for mine and me +Earth’s unsubstantial mimicry! + +It ceased, and from the mute and moveless frame +A radiant spirit arose, +All beautiful in naked purity. _110 +Robed in its human hues it did ascend, +Disparting as it went the silver clouds, +It moved towards the car, and took its seat +Beside the Daemon shape. + +Obedient to the sweep of aery song, _115 +The mighty ministers +Unfurled their prismy wings. +The magic car moved on; +The night was fair, innumerable stars +Studded heaven’s dark blue vault; _120 +The eastern wave grew pale +With the first smile of morn. +The magic car moved on. +From the swift sweep of wings +The atmosphere in flaming sparkles flew; _125 +And where the burning wheels +Eddied above the mountain’s loftiest peak +Was traced a line of lightning. +Now far above a rock the utmost verge +Of the wide earth it flew, _130 +The rival of the Andes, whose dark brow +Frowned o’er the silver sea. +Far, far below the chariot’s stormy path, +Calm as a slumbering babe, +Tremendous ocean lay. _135 +Its broad and silent mirror gave to view +The pale and waning stars, +The chariot’s fiery track, +And the grey light of morn +Tingeing those fleecy clouds _140 +That cradled in their folds the infant dawn. +The chariot seemed to fly +Through the abyss of an immense concave, +Radiant with million constellations, tinged +With shades of infinite colour, _145 +And semicircled with a belt +Flashing incessant meteors. + +As they approached their goal, +The winged shadows seemed to gather speed. +The sea no longer was distinguished; earth _150 +Appeared a vast and shadowy sphere, suspended +In the black concave of heaven +With the sun’s cloudless orb, +Whose rays of rapid light +Parted around the chariot’s swifter course, _155 +And fell like ocean’s feathery spray +Dashed from the boiling surge +Before a vessel’s prow. + +The magic car moved on. +Earth’s distant orb appeared _160 +The smallest light that twinkles in the heavens, +Whilst round the chariot’s way +Innumerable systems widely rolled, +And countless spheres diffused +An ever varying glory. _165 +It was a sight of wonder! Some were horned, +And like the moon’s argentine crescent hung +In the dark dome of heaven; some did shed +A clear mild beam like Hesperus, while the sea +Yet glows with fading sunlight; others dashed _170 +Athwart the night with trains of bickering fire, +Like sphered worlds to death and ruin driven; +Some shone like stars, and as the chariot passed +Bedimmed all other light. + +Spirit of Nature! here _175 +In this interminable wilderness +Of worlds, at whose involved immensity +Even soaring fancy staggers, +Here is thy fitting temple. +Yet not the lightest leaf _180 +That quivers to the passing breeze +Is less instinct with thee,— +Yet not the meanest worm. +That lurks in graves and fattens on the dead, +Less shares thy eternal breath. _185 +Spirit of Nature! thou +Imperishable as this glorious scene, +Here is thy fitting temple. + +If solitude hath ever led thy steps +To the shore of the immeasurable sea, _190 +And thou hast lingered there +Until the sun’s broad orb +Seemed resting on the fiery line of ocean, +Thou must have marked the braided webs of gold +That without motion hang _195 +Over the sinking sphere: +Thou must have marked the billowy mountain clouds, +Edged with intolerable radiancy, +Towering like rocks of jet +Above the burning deep: _200 +And yet there is a moment +When the sun’s highest point +Peers like a star o’er ocean’s western edge, +When those far clouds of feathery purple gleam +Like fairy lands girt by some heavenly sea: _205 +Then has thy rapt imagination soared +Where in the midst of all existing things +The temple of the mightiest Daemon stands. + +Yet not the golden islands +That gleam amid yon flood of purple light, _210 +Nor the feathery curtains +That canopy the sun’s resplendent couch, +Nor the burnished ocean waves +Paving that gorgeous dome, +So fair, so wonderful a sight _215 +As the eternal temple could afford. +The elements of all that human thought +Can frame of lovely or sublime, did join +To rear the fabric of the fane, nor aught +Of earth may image forth its majesty. _220 +Yet likest evening’s vault that faery hall, +As heaven low resting on the wave it spread +Its floors of flashing light, +Its vast and azure dome; +And on the verge of that obscure abyss _225 +Where crystal battlements o’erhang the gulf +Of the dark world, ten thousand spheres diffuse +Their lustre through its adamantine gates. + +The magic car no longer moved; +The Daemon and the Spirit _230 +Entered the eternal gates. +Those clouds of aery gold +That slept in glittering billows +Beneath the azure canopy, +With the ethereal footsteps trembled not; _235 +While slight and odorous mists +Floated to strains of thrilling melody +Through the vast columns and the pearly shrines. + +The Daemon and the Spirit +Approached the overhanging battlement, _240 +Below lay stretched the boundless universe! +There, far as the remotest line +That limits swift imagination’s flight. +Unending orbs mingled in mazy motion, +Immutably fulfilling _245 +Eternal Nature’s law. +Above, below, around, +The circling systems formed +A wilderness of harmony. +Each with undeviating aim _250 +In eloquent silence through the depths of space +Pursued its wondrous way.— + +Awhile the Spirit paused in ecstasy. +Yet soon she saw, as the vast spheres swept by, +Strange things within their belted orbs appear. _255 +Like animated frenzies, dimly moved +Shadows, and skeletons, and fiendly shapes, +Thronging round human graves, and o’er the dead +Sculpturing records for each memory +In verse, such as malignant gods pronounce, _260 +Blasting the hopes of men, when heaven and hell +Confounded burst in ruin o’er the world: +And they did build vast trophies, instruments +Of murder, human bones, barbaric gold, +Skins torn from living men, and towers of skulls _265 +With sightless holes gazing on blinder heaven, +Mitres, and crowns, and brazen chariots stained +With blood, and scrolls of mystic wickedness, +The sanguine codes of venerable crime. +The likeness of a throned king came by. _270 +When these had passed, bearing upon his brow +A threefold crown; his countenance was calm. +His eye severe and cold; but his right hand +Was charged with bloody coin, and he did gnaw +By fits, with secret smiles, a human heart _275 +Concealed beneath his robe; and motley shapes, +A multitudinous throng, around him knelt. +With bosoms bare, and bowed heads, and false looks +Of true submission, as the sphere rolled by. +Brooking no eye to witness their foul shame, _280 +Which human hearts must feel, while human tongues +Tremble to speak, they did rage horribly, +Breathing in self-contempt fierce blasphemies +Against the Daemon of the World, and high +Hurling their armed hands where the pure Spirit, _285 +Serene and inaccessibly secure, +Stood on an isolated pinnacle. +The flood of ages combating below, +The depth of the unbounded universe +Above, and all around _290 +Necessity’s unchanging harmony. + +PART 2. + +[Sections 8 and 9 of “Queen Mab” rehandled by Shelley. First printed +in 1876 by Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B., by whose kind permission it is +here reproduced. See Editor’s Introductory Note to “Queen Mab”.] + +O happy Earth! reality of Heaven! +To which those restless powers that ceaselessly +Throng through the human universe aspire; +Thou consummation of all mortal hope! _295 +Thou glorious prize of blindly-working will! +Whose rays, diffused throughout all space and time, +Verge to one point and blend for ever there: +Of purest spirits thou pure dwelling-place! +Where care and sorrow, impotence and crime, _300 +Languor, disease, and ignorance dare not come: +O happy Earth, reality of Heaven! + +Genius has seen thee in her passionate dreams, +And dim forebodings of thy loveliness, +Haunting the human heart, have there entwined _305 +Those rooted hopes, that the proud Power of Evil +Shall not for ever on this fairest world +Shake pestilence and war, or that his slaves +With blasphemy for prayer, and human blood +For sacrifice, before his shrine for ever _310 +In adoration bend, or Erebus +With all its banded fiends shall not uprise +To overwhelm in envy and revenge +The dauntless and the good, who dare to hurl +Defiance at his throne, girt tho’ it be _315 +With Death’s omnipotence. Thou hast beheld +His empire, o’er the present and the past; +It was a desolate sight—now gaze on mine, +Futurity. Thou hoary giant Time, +Render thou up thy half-devoured babes,— _320 +And from the cradles of eternity, +Where millions lie lulled to their portioned sleep +By the deep murmuring stream of passing things, +Tear thou that gloomy shroud.—Spirit, behold +Thy glorious destiny! + +The Spirit saw _325 +The vast frame of the renovated world +Smile in the lap of Chaos, and the sense +Of hope thro’ her fine texture did suffuse +Such varying glow, as summer evening casts +On undulating clouds and deepening lakes. _330 +Like the vague sighings of a wind at even, +That wakes the wavelets of the slumbering sea +And dies on the creation of its breath, +And sinks and rises, fails and swells by fits, +Was the sweet stream of thought that with wild motion _335 +Flowed o’er the Spirit’s human sympathies. +The mighty tide of thought had paused awhile, +Which from the Daemon now like Ocean’s stream +Again began to pour.— + +To me is given +The wonders of the human world to keep- _340 +Space, matter, time and mind—let the sight +Renew and strengthen all thy failing hope. +All things are recreated, and the flame +Of consentaneous love inspires all life: +The fertile bosom of the earth gives suck _345 +To myriads, who still grow beneath her care, +Rewarding her with their pure perfectness: +The balmy breathings of the wind inhale +Her virtues, and diffuse them all abroad: +Health floats amid the gentle atmosphere, _350 +Glows in the fruits, and mantles on the stream; +No storms deform the beaming brow of heaven, +Nor scatter in the freshness of its pride +The foliage of the undecaying trees; +But fruits are ever ripe, flowers ever fair, _355 +And Autumn proudly bears her matron grace, +Kindling a flush on the fair cheek of Spring, +Whose virgin bloom beneath the ruddy fruit +Reflects its tint and blushes into love. + +The habitable earth is full of bliss; _360 +Those wastes of frozen billows that were hurled +By everlasting snow-storms round the poles, +Where matter dared not vegetate nor live, +But ceaseless frost round the vast solitude +Bound its broad zone of stillness, are unloosed; _365 +And fragrant zephyrs there from spicy isles +Ruffle the placid ocean-deep, that rolls +Its broad, bright surges to the sloping sand, +Whose roar is wakened into echoings sweet +To murmur through the heaven-breathing groves _370 +And melodise with man’s blest nature there. + +The vast tract of the parched and sandy waste +Now teems with countless rills and shady woods, +Corn-fields and pastures and white cottages; +And where the startled wilderness did hear _375 +A savage conqueror stained in kindred blood, +Hymmng his victory, or the milder snake +Crushing the bones of some frail antelope +Within his brazen folds—the dewy lawn, +Offering sweet incense to the sunrise, smiles _380 +To see a babe before his mother’s door, +Share with the green and golden basilisk +That comes to lick his feet, his morning’s meal. + +Those trackless deeps, where many a weary sail +Has seen, above the illimitable plain, _385 +Morning on night and night on morning rise, +Whilst still no land to greet the wanderer spread +Its shadowy mountains on the sunbright sea, +Where the loud roarings of the tempest-waves +So long have mingled with the gusty wind _390 +In melancholy loneliness, and swept +The desert of those ocean solitudes, +But vocal to the sea-bird’s harrowing shriek, +The bellowing monster, and the rushing storm, +Now to the sweet and many-mingling sounds _395 +Of kindliest human impulses respond: +Those lonely realms bright garden-isles begem, +With lightsome clouds and shining seas between, +And fertile valleys resonant with bliss, +Whilst green woods overcanopy the wave, _400 +Which like a toil-worn labourer leaps to shore, +To meet the kisses of the flowerets there. + +Man chief perceives the change, his being notes +The gradual renovation, and defines +Each movement of its progress on his mind. _405 +Man, where the gloom of the long polar night +Lowered o’er the snow-clad rocks and frozen soil, +Where scarce the hardiest herb that braves the frost +Basked in the moonlight’s ineffectual glow, +Shrank with the plants, and darkened with the night; _410 +Nor where the tropics bound the realms of day +With a broad belt of mingling cloud and flame, +Where blue mists through the unmoving atmosphere +Scattered the seeds of pestilence, and fed +Unnatural vegetation, where the land _415 +Teemed with all earthquake, tempest and disease, +Was man a nobler being; slavery +Had crushed him to his country’s blood-stained dust. + +Even where the milder zone afforded man +A seeming shelter, yet contagion there, _420 +Blighting his being with unnumbered ills, +Spread like a quenchless fire; nor truth availed +Till late to arrest its progress, or create +That peace which first in bloodless victory waved +Her snowy standard o’er this favoured clime: _425 +There man was long the train-bearer of slaves, +The mimic of surrounding misery, +The jackal of ambition’s lion-rage, +The bloodhound of religion’s hungry zeal. + +Here now the human being stands adorning _430 +This loveliest earth with taintless body and mind; +Blest from his birth with all bland impulses, +Which gently in his noble bosom wake +All kindly passions and all pure desires. +Him, still from hope to hope the bliss pursuing, _435 +Which from the exhaustless lore of human weal +Dawns on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that rise +In time-destroying infiniteness gift +With self-enshrined eternity, that mocks +The unprevailing hoariness of age, _440 +And man, once fleeting o’er the transient scene +Swift as an unremembered vision, stands +Immortal upon earth: no longer now +He slays the beast that sports around his dwelling +And horribly devours its mangled flesh, _445 +Or drinks its vital blood, which like a stream +Of poison thro’ his fevered veins did flow +Feeding a plague that secretly consumed +His feeble frame, and kindling in his mind +Hatred, despair, and fear and vain belief, _450 +The germs of misery, death, disease and crime. +No longer now the winged habitants, +That in the woods their sweet lives sing away, +Flee from the form of man; but gather round, +And prune their sunny feathers on the hands _455 +Which little children stretch in friendly sport +Towards these dreadless partners of their play. +All things are void of terror: man has lost +His desolating privilege, and stands +An equal amidst equals: happiness _460 +And science dawn though late upon the earth; +Peace cheers the mind, health renovates the frame; +Disease and pleasure cease to mingle here, +Reason and passion cease to combat there; +Whilst mind unfettered o’er the earth extends _465 +Its all-subduing energies, and wields +The sceptre of a vast dominion there. + +Mild is the slow necessity of death: +The tranquil spirit fails beneath its grasp, +Without a groan, almost without a fear, _470 +Resigned in peace to the necessity, +Calm as a voyager to some distant land, +And full of wonder, full of hope as he. +The deadly germs of languor and disease +Waste in the human frame, and Nature gifts _475 +With choicest boons her human worshippers. +How vigorous now the athletic form of age! +How clear its open and unwrinkled brow! +Where neither avarice, cunning, pride, or care, +Had stamped the seal of grey deformity _480 +On all the mingling lineaments of time. +How lovely the intrepid front of youth! +How sweet the smiles of taintless infancy. + +Within the massy prison’s mouldering courts, +Fearless and free the ruddy children play, _485 +Weaving gay chaplets for their innocent brows +With the green ivy and the red wall-flower, +That mock the dungeon’s unavailing gloom; +The ponderous chains, and gratings of strong iron, +There rust amid the accumulated ruins _490 +Now mingling slowly with their native earth: +There the broad beam of day, which feebly once +Lighted the cheek of lean captivity +With a pale and sickly glare, now freely shines +On the pure smiles of infant playfulness: _495 +No more the shuddering voice of hoarse despair +Peals through the echoing vaults, but soothing notes +Of ivy-fingered winds and gladsome birds +And merriment are resonant around. + +The fanes of Fear and Falsehood hear no more _500 +The voice that once waked multitudes to war +Thundering thro’ all their aisles: but now respond +To the death dirge of the melancholy wind: +It were a sight of awfulness to see +The works of faith and slavery, so vast, _505 +So sumptuous, yet withal so perishing! +Even as the corpse that rests beneath their wall. +A thousand mourners deck the pomp of death +To-day, the breathing marble glows above +To decorate its memory, and tongues _510 +Are busy of its life: to-morrow, worms +In silence and in darkness seize their prey. +These ruins soon leave not a wreck behind: +Their elements, wide-scattered o’er the globe, +To happier shapes are moulded, and become _515 +Ministrant to all blissful impulses: +Thus human things are perfected, and earth, +Even as a child beneath its mother’s love, +Is strengthened in all excellence, and grows +Fairer and nobler with each passing year. _520 + +Now Time his dusky pennons o’er the scene +Closes in steadfast darkness, and the past +Fades from our charmed sight. My task is done: +Thy lore is learned. Earth’s wonders are thine own, +With all the fear and all the hope they bring. _525 +My spells are past: the present now recurs. +Ah me! a pathless wilderness remains +Yet unsubdued by man’s reclaiming hand. + +Yet, human Spirit, bravely hold thy course, +Let virtue teach thee firmly to pursue _530 +The gradual paths of an aspiring change: +For birth and life and death, and that strange state +Before the naked powers that thro’ the world +Wander like winds have found a human home, +All tend to perfect happiness, and urge _535 +The restless wheels of being on their way, +Whose flashing spokes, instinct with infinite life, +Bicker and burn to gain their destined goal: +For birth but wakes the universal mind +Whose mighty streams might else in silence flow _540 +Thro’ the vast world, to individual sense +Of outward shows, whose unexperienced shape +New modes of passion to its frame may lend; +Life is its state of action, and the store +Of all events is aggregated there _545 +That variegate the eternal universe; +Death is a gate of dreariness and gloom, +That leads to azure isles and beaming skies +And happy regions of eternal hope. +Therefore, O Spirit! fearlessly bear on: _550 +Though storms may break the primrose on its stalk, +Though frosts may blight the freshness of its bloom, +Yet spring’s awakening breath will woo the earth, +To feed with kindliest dews its favourite flower, +That blooms in mossy banks and darksome glens, _555 +Lighting the green wood with its sunny smile. + +Fear not then, Spirit, death’s disrobing hand, +So welcome when the tyrant is awake, +So welcome when the bigot’s hell-torch flares; +’Tis but the voyage of a darksome hour, _560 +The transient gulf-dream of a startling sleep. +For what thou art shall perish utterly, +But what is thine may never cease to be; +Death is no foe to virtue: earth has seen +Love’s brightest roses on the scaffold bloom, _565 +Mingling with freedom’s fadeless laurels there, +And presaging the truth of visioned bliss. +Are there not hopes within thee, which this scene +Of linked and gradual being has confirmed? +Hopes that not vainly thou, and living fires _570 +Of mind as radiant and as pure as thou, +Have shone upon the paths of men—return, +Surpassing Spirit, to that world, where thou +Art destined an eternal war to wage +With tyranny and falsehood, and uproot _575 +The germs of misery from the human heart. +Thine is the hand whose piety would soothe +The thorny pillow of unhappy crime, +Whose impotence an easy pardon gains, +Watching its wanderings as a friend’s disease: _580 +Thine is the brow whose mildness would defy +Its fiercest rage, and brave its sternest will, +When fenced by power and master of the world. +Thou art sincere and good; of resolute mind, +Free from heart-withering custom’s cold control, _585 +Of passion lofty, pure and unsubdued. +Earth’s pride and meanness could not vanquish thee, +And therefore art thou worthy of the boon +Which thou hast now received: virtue shall keep +Thy footsteps in the path that thou hast trod, _590 +And many days of beaming hope shall bless +Thy spotless life of sweet and sacred love. +Go, happy one, and give that bosom joy +Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch +Light, life and rapture from thy smile. _595 + +The Daemon called its winged ministers. +Speechless with bliss the Spirit mounts the car, +That rolled beside the crystal battlement, +Bending her beamy eyes in thankfulness. +The burning wheels inflame _600 +The steep descent of Heaven’s untrodden way. +Fast and far the chariot flew: +The mighty globes that rolled +Around the gate of the Eternal Fane +Lessened by slow degrees, and soon appeared _605 +Such tiny twinklers as the planet orbs +That ministering on the solar power +With borrowed light pursued their narrower way. +Earth floated then below: +The chariot paused a moment; _610 +The Spirit then descended: +And from the earth departing +The shadows with swift wings +Speeded like thought upon the light of Heaven. + +The Body and the Soul united then, _615 +A gentle start convulsed Ianthe’s frame: +Her veiny eyelids quietly unclosed; +Moveless awhile the dark blue orbs remained: +She looked around in wonder and beheld +Henry, who kneeled in silence by her couch, _620 +Watching her sleep with looks of speechless love, +And the bright beaming stars +That through the casement shone. + + +Notes: +_87 Regarding cj. A.C. Bradley.) + +*** + + +ALASTOR: OR, THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE. + +[Composed at Bishopsgate Heath, near Windsor Park, 1815 (autumn); +published, as the title-piece of a slender volume containing other +poems (see “Biographical List”, by Baldwin, Cradock and Joy, London, +1816 (March). Reprinted—the first edition being sold out—amongst the +“Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Sources of the text are (1) the editio +princeps, 1816; (2) “Posthumous Poems”, 1824; (3) “Poetical Works”, +1839, editions 1st and 2nd. For (2) and (3) Mrs. Shelley is +responsible.] + +PREFACE. + +The poem entitled “Alastor” may be considered as allegorical of one of +the most interesting situations of the human mind. It represents a +youth of uncorrupted feelings and adventurous genius led forth by an +imagination inflamed and purified through familiarity with all that is +excellent and majestic, to the contemplation of the universe. He +drinks deep of the fountains of knowledge, and is still insatiate. The +magnificence and beauty of the external world sinks profoundly into +the frame of his conceptions, and affords to their modifications at +variety not to be exhausted. so long as it is possible for his desires +to point towards objects thus infinite and unmeasured, he is joyous, +and tranquil, and self-possessed. But the period arrives when these +objects cease to suffice. His mind is at length suddenly awakened and +thirsts for intercourse with an intelligence similar to itself. He +images to himself the Being whom he loves. Conversant with +speculations of the sublimest and most perfect natures, the vision in +which he embodies his own imaginations unites all of wonderful, or +wise, or beautiful, which the poet, the philosopher, or the lover +could depicture. The intellectual faculties, the imagination, the +functions of sense, have their respective requisitions on the sympathy +of corresponding powers in other human beings. The Poet is represented +as uniting these requisitions, and attaching them to a single image. +He seeks in vain for a prototype of his conception. Blasted by his +disappointment, he descends to an untimely grave. + +The picture is not barren of instruction to actual men. The Poet’s +self-centred seclusion was avenged by the furies of an irresistible +passion pursuing him to speedy ruin. But that Power which strikes the +luminaries of the world with sudden darkness and extinction, by +awakening them to too exquisite a perception of its influences, dooms +to a slow and poisonous decay those manner spirits that dare to abjure +its dominion. Their destiny is more abject and inglorious as their +delinquency is more contemptible and pernicious. They who, deluded by +no generous error, instigated by no sacred thirst of doubtful +knowledge, duped by no illustrious superstition, loving nothing on +this earth, and cherishing no hopes beyond, yet keep aloof from +sympathies with their kind, rejoicing neither in human joy nor +mourning with human grief; these, and such as they, have their +apportioned curse. They languish, because none feel with them their +common nature. They are morally dead. They are neither friends, nor +lovers, nor fathers, nor citizens of the world, nor benefactors of +their country. Among those who attempt to exist without human +sympathy, the pure and tender-hearted perish through the intensity and +passion of their search after its communities, when the vacancy of +their spirit suddenly makes itself felt. All else, selfish, blind, and +torpid, are those unforeseeing multitudes who constitute, together +with their own, the lasting misery and loneliness of the world. Those +who love not their fellow-beings live unfruitful lives, and prepare +for their old age a miserable grave. + +‘The good die first, +And those whose hearts are dry as summer dust, +Burn to the socket!’ + +December 14, 1815. + + +ALASTOR: OR, THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE. + +Earth, Ocean, Air, beloved brotherhood! +If our great Mother has imbued my soul +With aught of natural piety to feel +Your love, and recompense the boon with mine; +If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and even, _5 +With sunset and its gorgeous ministers, +And solemn midnight’s tingling silentness; +If autumn’s hollow sighs in the sere wood, +And winter robing with pure snow and crowns +Of starry ice the grey grass and bare boughs; _10 +If spring’s voluptuous pantings when she breathes +Her first sweet kisses, have been dear to me; +If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast +I consciously have injured, but still loved +And cherished these my kindred; then forgive _15 +This boast, beloved brethren, and withdraw +No portion of your wonted favour now! + +Mother of this unfathomable world! +Favour my solemn song, for I have loved +Thee ever, and thee only; I have watched _20 +Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps, +And my heart ever gazes on the depth +Of thy deep mysteries. I have made my bed +In charnels and on coffins, where black death +Keeps record of the trophies won from thee, _25 +Hoping to still these obstinate questionings +Of thee and thine, by forcing some lone ghost, +Thy messenger, to render up the tale +Of what we are. In lone and silent hours, +When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness, _30 +Like an inspired and desperate alchymist +Staking his very life on some dark hope, +Have I mixed awful talk and asking looks +With my most innocent love, until strange tears, +Uniting with those breathless kisses, made _35 +Such magic as compels the charmed night +To render up thy charge:...and, though ne’er yet +Thou hast unveiled thy inmost sanctuary, +Enough from incommunicable dream, +And twilight phantasms, and deep noon-day thought, _40 +Has shone within me, that serenely now +And moveless, as a long-forgotten lyre +Suspended in the solitary dome +Of some mysterious and deserted fane, +I wait thy breath, Great Parent, that my strain _45 +May modulate with murmurs of the air, +And motions of the forests and the sea, +And voice of living beings, and woven hymns +Of night and day, and the deep heart of man. + +There was a Poet whose untimely tomb _50 +No human hands with pious reverence reared, +But the charmed eddies of autumnal winds +Built o’er his mouldering bones a pyramid +Of mouldering leaves in the waste wilderness:— +A lovely youth,—no mourning maiden decked _55 +With weeping flowers, or votive cypress wreath, +The lone couch of his everlasting sleep:— +Gentle, and brave, and generous,—no lorn bard +Breathed o’er his dark fate one melodious sigh: +He lived, he died, he sung in solitude. _60 +Strangers have wept to hear his passionate notes, +And virgins, as unknown he passed, have pined +And wasted for fond love of his wild eyes. +The fire of those soft orbs has ceased to burn, +And Silence, too enamoured of that voice, _65 +Locks its mute music in her rugged cell. + +By solemn vision, and bright silver dream +His infancy was nurtured. Every sight +And sound from the vast earth and ambient air, +Sent to his heart its choicest impulses. _70 +The fountains of divine philosophy +Fled not his thirsting lips, and all of great, +Or good, or lovely, which the sacred past +In truth or fable consecrates, he felt +And knew. When early youth had passed, he left _75 +His cold fireside and alienated home +To seek strange truths in undiscovered lands. +Many a wide waste and tangled wilderness +Has lured his fearless steps; and he has bought +With his sweet voice and eyes, from savage men, _80 +His rest and food. Nature’s most secret steps +He like her shadow has pursued, where’er +The red volcano overcanopies +Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice +With burning smoke, or where bitumen lakes _85 +On black bare pointed islets ever beat +With sluggish surge, or where the secret caves, +Rugged and dark, winding among the springs +Of fire and poison, inaccessible +To avarice or pride, their starry domes _90 +Of diamond and of gold expand above +Numberless and immeasurable halls, +Frequent with crystal column, and clear shrines +Of pearl, and thrones radiant with chrysolite. +Nor had that scene of ampler majesty _95 +Than gems or gold, the varying roof of heaven +And the green earth lost in his heart its claims +To love and wonder; he would linger long +In lonesome vales, making the wild his home, +Until the doves and squirrels would partake _100 +From his innocuous hand his bloodless food, +Lured by the gentle meaning of his looks, +And the wild antelope, that starts whene’er +The dry leaf rustles in the brake, suspend +Her timid steps, to gaze upon a form +More graceful than her own. _105 +His wandering step, +Obedient to high thoughts, has visited +The awful ruins of the days of old: +Athens, and Tyre, and Balbec, and the waste +Where stood Jerusalem, the fallen towers _110 +Of Babylon, the eternal pyramids, +Memphis and Thebes, and whatsoe’er of strange, +Sculptured on alabaster obelisk, +Or jasper tomb, or mutilated sphynx, +Dark Aethiopia in her desert hills _115 +Conceals. Among the ruined temples there, +Stupendous columns, and wild images +Of more than man, where marble daemons watch +The Zodiac’s brazen mystery, and dead men +Hang their mute thoughts on the mute walls around, _120 +He lingered, poring on memorials +Of the world’s youth: through the long burning day +Gazed on those speechless shapes; nor, when the moon +Filled the mysterious halls with floating shades +Suspended he that task, but ever gazed _125 +And gazed, till meaning on his vacant mind +Flashed like strong inspiration, and he saw +The thrilling secrets of the birth of time. + +Meanwhile an Arab maiden brought his food, +Her daily portion, from her father’s tent, _130 +And spread her matting for his couch, and stole +From duties and repose to tend his steps, +Enamoured, yet not daring for deep awe +To speak her love:—and watched his nightly sleep, +Sleepless herself, to gaze upon his lips _135 +Parted in slumber, whence the regular breath +Of innocent dreams arose; then, when red morn +Made paler the pale moon, to her cold home +Wildered, and wan, and panting, she returned. + +The Poet, wandering on, through Arabie, _140 +And Persia, and the wild Carmanian waste, +And o’er the aerial mountains which pour down +Indus and Oxus from their icy caves, +In joy and exultation held his way; +Till in the vale of Cashmire, far within _145 +Its loneliest dell, where odorous plants entwine +Beneath the hollow rocks a natural bower, +Beside a sparkling rivulet he stretched +His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep +There came, a dream of hopes that never yet _150 +Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veiled maid +Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. +Her voice was like the voice of his own soul +Heard in the calm of thought; its music long, +Like woven sounds of streams and breezes, held _155 +His inmost sense suspended in its web +Of many-coloured woof and shifting hues. +Knowledge and truth and virtue were her theme, +And lofty hopes of divine liberty, +Thoughts the most dear to him, and poesy, _160 +Herself a poet. Soon the solemn mood +Of her pure mind kindled through all her frame +A permeating fire; wild numbers then +She raised, with voice stifled in tremulous sobs +Subdued by its own pathos; her fair hands _165 +Were bare alone, sweeping from some strange harp +Strange symphony, and in their branching veins +The eloquent blood told an ineffable tale. +The beating of her heart was heard to fill +The pauses of her music, and her breath _170 +Tumultuously accorded with those fits +Of intermitted song. Sudden she rose, +As if her heart impatiently endured +Its bursting burthen: at the sound he turned, +And saw by the warm light of their own life _175 +Her glowing limbs beneath the sinuous veil +Of woven wind, her outspread arms now bare, +Her dark locks floating in the breath of night, +Her beamy bending eyes, her parted lips +Outstretched, and pale, and quivering eagerly. _180 +His strong heart sunk and sickened with excess +Of love. He reared his shuddering limbs and quelled +His gasping breath, and spread his arms to meet +Her panting bosom:...she drew back a while, +Then, yielding to the irresistible joy, _185 +With frantic gesture and short breathless cry +Folded his frame in her dissolving arms. +Now blackness veiled his dizzy eyes, and night +Involved and swallowed up the vision; sleep, +Like a dark flood suspended in its course, _190 +Rolled back its impulse on his vacant brain. + +Roused by the shock he started from his trance— +The cold white light of morning, the blue moon +Low in the west, the clear and garish hills, +The distinct valley and the vacant woods, _195 +Spread round him where he stood. Whither have fled +The hues of heaven that canopied his bower +Of yesternight? The sounds that soothed his sleep, +The mystery and the majesty of Earth, +The joy, the exultation? His wan eyes _200 +Gaze on the empty scene as vacantly +As ocean’s moon looks on the moon in heaven. +The spirit of sweet human love has sent +A vision to the sleep of him who spurned +Her choicest gifts. He eagerly pursues _205 +Beyond the realms of dream that fleeting shade; +He overleaps the bounds. Alas! Alas! +Were limbs, and breath, and being intertwined +Thus treacherously? Lost, lost, for ever lost +In the wide pathless desert of dim sleep, _210 +That beautiful shape! Does the dark gate of death +Conduct to thy mysterious paradise, +O Sleep? Does the bright arch of rainbow clouds +And pendent mountains seen in the calm lake, +Lead only to a black and watery depth, _215 +While death’s blue vault, with loathliest vapours hung, +Where every shade which the foul grave exhales +Hides its dead eye from the detested day, +Conducts, O Sleep, to thy delightful realms? +This doubt with sudden tide flowed on his heart; _220 +The insatiate hope which it awakened, stung +His brain even like despair. +While daylight held +The sky, the Poet kept mute conference +With his still soul. At night the passion came, +Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream, _225 +And shook him from his rest, and led him forth +Into the darkness.—As an eagle, grasped +In folds of the green serpent, feels her breast +Burn with the poison, and precipitates +Through night and day, tempest, and calm, and cloud, _230 +Frantic with dizzying anguish, her blind flight +O’er the wide aery wilderness: thus driven +By the bright shadow of that lovely dream, +Beneath the cold glare of the desolate night, +Through tangled swamps and deep precipitous dells, _235 +Startling with careless step the moonlight snake, +He fled. Red morning dawned upon his flight, +Shedding the mockery of its vital hues +Upon his cheek of death. He wandered on +Till vast Aornos seen from Petra’s steep _240 +Hung o’er the low horizon like a cloud; +Through Balk, and where the desolated tombs +Of Parthian kings scatter to every wind +Their wasting dust, wildly he wandered on, +Day after day a weary waste of hours, _245 +Bearing within his life the brooding care +That ever fed on its decaying flame. +And now his limbs were lean; his scattered hair, +Sered by the autumn of strange suffering +Sung dirges in the wind; his listless hand _250 +Hung like dead bone within its withered skin; +Life, and the lustre that consumed it, shone +As in a furnace burning secretly +From his dark eyes alone. The cottagers, +Who ministered with human charity _255 +His human wants, beheld with wondering awe +Their fleeting visitant. The mountaineer, +Encountering on some dizzy precipice +That spectral form, deemed that the Spirit of wind +With lightning eyes, and eager breath, and feet _260 +Disturbing not the drifted snow, had paused +In its career: the infant would conceal +His troubled visage in his mother’s robe +In terror at the glare of those wild eyes, +To remember their strange light in many a dream _265 +Of after-times; but youthful maidens, taught +By nature, would interpret half the woe +That wasted him, would call him with false names +Brother and friend, would press his pallid hand +At parting, and watch, dim through tears, the path _270 +Of his departure from their father’s door. + +At length upon the lone Chorasmian shore +He paused, a wide and melancholy waste +Of putrid marshes. A strong impulse urged +His steps to the sea-shore. A swan was there, _275 +Beside a sluggish stream among the reeds. +It rose as he approached, and, with strong wings +Scaling the upward sky, bent its bright course +High over the immeasurable main. +His eyes pursued its flight:—‘Thou hast a home, _280 +Beautiful bird; thou voyagest to thine home, +Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck +With thine, and welcome thy return with eyes +Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy. +And what am I that I should linger here, _285 +With voice far sweeter than thy dying notes, +Spirit more vast than thine, frame more attuned +To beauty, wasting these surpassing powers +In the deaf air, to the blind earth, and heaven +That echoes not my thoughts?’ A gloomy smile _290 +Of desperate hope wrinkled his quivering lips. +For sleep, he knew, kept most relentlessly +Its precious charge, and silent death exposed, +Faithless perhaps as sleep, a shadowy lure, +With doubtful smile mocking its own strange charms. _295 + +Startled by his own thoughts he looked around. +There was no fair fiend near him, not a sight +Or sound of awe but in his own deep mind. +A little shallop floating near the shore +Caught the impatient wandering of his gaze. _300 +It had been long abandoned, for its sides +Gaped wide with many a rift, and its frail joints +Swayed with the undulations of the tide. +A restless impulse urged him to embark +And meet lone Death on the drear ocean’s waste; _305 +For well he knew that mighty Shadow loves +The slimy caverns of the populous deep. + +The day was fair and sunny; sea and sky +Drank its inspiring radiance, and the wind +Swept strongly from the shore, blackening the waves. _310 +Following his eager soul, the wanderer +Leaped in the boat, he spread his cloak aloft +On the bare mast, and took his lonely seat, +And felt the boat speed o’er the tranquil sea +Like a torn cloud before the hurricane. _315 + +As one that in a silver vision floats +Obedient to the sweep of odorous winds +Upon resplendent clouds, so rapidly +Along the dark and ruffled waters fled +The straining boat.—A whirlwind swept it on, _320 +With fierce gusts and precipitating force, +Through the white ridges of the chafed sea. +The waves arose. Higher and higher still +Their fierce necks writhed beneath the tempest’s scourge +Like serpents struggling in a vulture’s grasp. _325 +Calm and rejoicing in the fearful war +Of wave ruining on wave, and blast on blast +Descending, and black flood on whirlpool driven +With dark obliterating course, he sate: +As if their genii were the ministers _330 +Appointed to conduct him to the light +Of those beloved eyes, the Poet sate, +Holding the steady helm. Evening came on, +The beams of sunset hung their rainbow hues +High ‘mid the shifting domes of sheeted spray _335 +That canopied his path o’er the waste deep; +Twilight, ascending slowly from the east, +Entwined in duskier wreaths her braided locks +O’er the fair front and radiant eyes of day; +Night followed, clad with stars. On every side _340 +More horribly the multitudinous streams +Of ocean’s mountainous waste to mutual war +Rushed in dark tumult thundering, as to mock +The calm and spangled sky. The little boat +Still fled before the storm; still fled, like foam _345 +Down the steep cataract of a wintry river; +Now pausing on the edge of the riven wave; +Now leaving far behind the bursting mass +That fell, convulsing ocean: safely fled— +As if that frail and wasted human form, _350 +Had been an elemental god. + +At midnight +The moon arose; and lo! the ethereal cliffs +Of Caucasus, whose icy summits shone +Among the stars like sunlight, and around +Whose caverned base the whirlpools and the waves _355 +Bursting and eddying irresistibly +Rage and resound forever.—Who shall save?— +The boat fled on,—the boiling torrent drove,— +The crags closed round with black and jagged arms, +The shattered mountain overhung the sea, _360 +And faster still, beyond all human speed, +Suspended on the sweep of the smooth wave, +The little boat was driven. A cavern there +Yawned, and amid its slant and winding depths +Ingulfed the rushing sea. The boat fled on _365 +With unrelaxing speed.—‘Vision and Love!’ +The Poet cried aloud, ‘I have beheld +The path of thy departure. Sleep and death +Shall not divide us long.’ + +The boat pursued +The windings of the cavern. Daylight shone _370 +At length upon that gloomy river’s flow; +Now, where the fiercest war among the waves +Is calm, on the unfathomable stream +The boat moved slowly. Where the mountain, riven, +Exposed those black depths to the azure sky, _375 +Ere yet the flood’s enormous volume fell +Even to the base of Caucasus, with sound +That shook the everlasting rocks, the mass +Filled with one whirlpool all that ample chasm: +Stair above stair the eddying waters rose, _380 +Circling immeasurably fast, and laved +With alternating dash the gnarled roots +Of mighty trees, that stretched their giant arms +In darkness over it. I’ the midst was left, +Reflecting, yet distorting every cloud, _385 +A pool of treacherous and tremendous calm. +Seized by the sway of the ascending stream, +With dizzy swiftness, round, and round, and round, +Ridge after ridge the straining boat arose, +Till on the verge of the extremest curve, _390 +Where, through an opening of the rocky bank, +The waters overflow, and a smooth spot +Of glassy quiet mid those battling tides +Is left, the boat paused shuddering.—Shall it sink +Down the abyss? Shall the reverting stress _395 +Of that resistless gulf embosom it? +Now shall it fall?—A wandering stream of wind, +Breathed from the west, has caught the expanded sail, +And, lo! with gentle motion, between banks +Of mossy slope, and on a placid stream, _400 +Beneath a woven grove it sails, and, hark! +The ghastly torrent mingles its far roar, +With the breeze murmuring in the musical woods. +Where the embowering trees recede, and leave +A little space of green expanse, the cove _405 +Is closed by meeting banks, whose yellow flowers +For ever gaze on their own drooping eyes, +Reflected in the crystal calm. The wave +Of the boat’s motion marred their pensive task, +Which naught but vagrant bird, or wanton wind, _410 +Or falling spear-grass, or their own decay +Had e’er disturbed before. The Poet longed +To deck with their bright hues his withered hair, +But on his heart its solitude returned, +And he forbore. Not the strong impulse hid _415 +In those flushed cheeks, bent eyes, and shadowy frame +Had yet performed its ministry: it hung +Upon his life, as lightning in a cloud +Gleams, hovering ere it vanish, ere the floods +Of night close over it. +The noonday sun _420 +Now shone upon the forest, one vast mass +Of mingling shade, whose brown magnificence +A narrow vale embosoms. There, huge caves, +Scooped in the dark base of their aery rocks, +Mocking its moans, respond and roar for ever. _425 +The meeting boughs and implicated leaves +Wove twilight o’er the Poet’s path, as led +By love, or dream, or god, or mightier Death, +He sought in Nature’s dearest haunt some bank, +Her cradle, and his sepulchre. More dark _430 +And dark the shades accumulate. The oak, +Expanding its immense and knotty arms, +Embraces the light beech. The pyramids +Of the tall cedar overarching frame +Most solemn domes within, and far below, _435 +Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky, +The ash and the acacia floating hang +Tremulous and pale. Like restless serpents, clothed +In rainbow and in fire, the parasites, +Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around _440 +The grey trunks, and, as gamesome infants’ eyes, +With gentle meanings, and most innocent wiles, +Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love, +These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs +Uniting their close union; the woven leaves _445 +Make net-work of the dark blue light of day, +And the night’s noontide clearness, mutable +As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns +Beneath these canopies extend their swells, +Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms _450 +Minute yet beautiful. One darkest glen +Sends from its woods of musk-rose, twined with jasmine, +A soul-dissolving odour to invite +To some more lovely mystery. Through the dell, +Silence and Twilight here, twin-sisters, keep _455 +Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades, +Like vaporous shapes half-seen; beyond, a well, +Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent wave, +Images all the woven boughs above, +And each depending leaf, and every speck _460 +Of azure sky, darting between their chasms; +Nor aught else in the liquid mirror laves +Its portraiture, but some inconstant star +Between one foliaged lattice twinkling fair, +Or painted bird, sleeping beneath the moon, _465 +Or gorgeous insect floating motionless, +Unconscious of the day, ere yet his wings +Have spread their glories to the gaze of noon. + +Hither the Poet came. His eyes beheld +Their own wan light through the reflected lines _470 +Of his thin hair, distinct in the dark depth +Of that still fountain; as the human heart, +Gazing in dreams over the gloomy grave, +Sees its own treacherous likeness there. He heard +The motion of the leaves, the grass that sprung _475 +Startled and glanced and trembled even to feel +An unaccustomed presence, and the sound +Of the sweet brook that from the secret springs +Of that dark fountain rose. A Spirit seemed +To stand beside him—clothed in no bright robes _480 +Of shadowy silver or enshrining light, +Borrowed from aught the visible world affords +Of grace, or majesty, or mystery;— +But, undulating woods, and silent well, +And leaping rivulet, and evening gloom _485 +Now deepening the dark shades, for speech assuming, +Held commune with him, as if he and it +Were all that was,—only...when his regard +Was raised by intense pensiveness,...two eyes, +Two starry eyes, hung in the gloom of thought, _490 +And seemed with their serene and azure smiles +To beckon him. + +Obedient to the light +That shone within his soul, he went, pursuing +The windings of the dell.—The rivulet, +Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine _495 +Beneath the forest flowed. Sometimes it fell +Among the moss with hollow harmony +Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones +It danced; like childhood laughing as it went: +Then, through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, _500 +Reflecting every herb and drooping bud +That overhung its quietness.—‘O stream! +Whose source is inaccessibly profound, +Whither do thy mysterious waters tend? +Thou imagest my life. Thy darksome stillness, _505 +Thy dazzling waves, thy loud and hollow gulfs, +Thy searchless fountain, and invisible course +Have each their type in me; and the wide sky. +And measureless ocean may declare as soon +What oozy cavern or what wandering cloud _510 +Contains thy waters, as the universe +Tell where these living thoughts reside, when stretched +Upon thy flowers my bloodless limbs shall waste +I’ the passing wind!’ + +Beside the grassy shore +Of the small stream he went; he did impress _515 +On the green moss his tremulous step, that caught +Strong shuddering from his burning limbs. As one +Roused by some joyous madness from the couch +Of fever, he did move; yet, not like him, +Forgetful of the grave, where, when the flame _520 +Of his frail exultation shall be spent, +He must descend. With rapid steps he went +Beneath the shade of trees, beside the flow +Of the wild babbling rivulet; and now +The forest’s solemn canopies were changed _525 +For the uniform and lightsome evening sky. +Grey rocks did peep from the spare moss, and stemmed +The struggling brook; tall spires of windlestrae +Threw their thin shadows down the rugged slope, +And nought but gnarled roots of ancient pines _530 +Branchless and blasted, clenched with grasping roots +The unwilling soil. A gradual change was here, +Yet ghastly. For, as fast years flow away, +The smooth brow gathers, and the hair grows thin +And white, and where irradiate dewy eyes _535 +Had shone, gleam stony orbs:—so from his steps +Bright flowers departed, and the beautiful shade +Of the green groves, with all their odorous winds +And musical motions. Calm, he still pursued +The stream, that with a larger volume now _540 +Rolled through the labyrinthine dell; and there +Fretted a path through its descending curves +With its wintry speed. On every side now rose +Rocks, which, in unimaginable forms, +Lifted their black and barren pinnacles _545 +In the light of evening, and its precipice +Obscuring the ravine, disclosed above, +Mid toppling stones, black gulfs and yawning caves, +Whose windings gave ten thousand various tongues +To the loud stream. Lo! where the pass expands _550 +Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, +And seems, with its accumulated crags, +To overhang the world: for wide expand +Beneath the wan stars and descending moon +Islanded seas, blue mountains, mighty streams, _555 +Dim tracts and vast, robed in the lustrous gloom +Of leaden-coloured even, and fiery hills +Mingling their flames with twilight, on the verge +Of the remote horizon. The near scene, +In naked and severe simplicity, _560 +Made contrast with the universe. A pine, +Rock-rooted, stretched athwart the vacancy +Its swinging boughs, to each inconstant blast +Yielding one only response, at each pause +In most familiar cadence, with the howl _565 +The thunder and the hiss of homeless streams +Mingling its solemn song, whilst the broad river +Foaming and hurrying o’er its rugged path, +Fell into that immeasurable void +Scattering its waters to the passing winds. _570 + +Yet the grey precipice and solemn pine +And torrent were not all;—one silent nook +Was there. Even on the edge of that vast mountain, +Upheld by knotty roots and fallen rocks, +It overlooked in its serenity _575 +The dark earth, and the bending vault of stars. +It was a tranquil spot, that seemed to smile +Even in the lap of horror. Ivy clasped +The fissured stones with its entwining arms, +And did embower with leaves for ever green, _580 +And berries dark, the smooth and even space +Of its inviolated floor, and here +The children of the autumnal whirlwind bore, +In wanton sport, those bright leaves, whose decay, +Red, yellow, or ethereally pale, _585 +Rivals the pride of summer. ’Tis the haunt +Of every gentle wind, whose breath can teach +The wilds to love tranquillity. One step, +One human step alone, has ever broken +The stillness of its solitude:—one voice _590 +Alone inspired its echoes;—even that voice +Which hither came, floating among the winds, +And led the loveliest among human forms +To make their wild haunts the depository +Of all the grace and beauty that endued _595 +Its motions, render up its majesty, +Scatter its music on the unfeeling storm, +And to the damp leaves and blue cavern mould, +Nurses of rainbow flowers and branching moss, +Commit the colours of that varying cheek, _600 +That snowy breast, those dark and drooping eyes. + +The dim and horned moon hung low, and poured +A sea of lustre on the horizon’s verge +That overflowed its mountains. Yellow mist +Filled the unbounded atmosphere, and drank _605 +Wan moonlight even to fulness; not a star +Shone, not a sound was heard; the very winds, +Danger’s grim playmates, on that precipice +Slept, clasped in his embrace.—O, storm of death! +Whose sightless speed divides this sullen night: 610 +And thou, colossal Skeleton, that, still +Guiding its irresistible career +In thy devastating omnipotence, +Art king of this frail world, from the red field +Of slaughter, from the reeking hospital, _615 +The patriot’s sacred couch, the snowy bed +Of innocence, the scaffold and the throne, +A mighty voice invokes thee. Ruin calls +His brother Death. A rare and regal prey +He hath prepared, prowling around the world; _620 +Glutted with which thou mayst repose, and men +Go to their graves like flowers or creeping worms, +Nor ever more offer at thy dark shrine +The unheeded tribute of a broken heart. + +When on the threshold of the green recess _625 +The wanderer’s footsteps fell, he knew that death +Was on him. Yet a little, ere it fled, +Did he resign his high and holy soul +To images of the majestic past, +That paused within his passive being now, _630 +Like winds that bear sweet music, when they breathe +Through some dim latticed chamber. He did place +His pale lean hand upon the rugged trunk +Of the old pine. Upon an ivied stone +Reclined his languid head, his limbs did rest, _635 +Diffused and motionless, on the smooth brink +Of that obscurest chasm;—and thus he lay, +Surrendering to their final impulses +The hovering powers of life. Hope and despair, +The torturers, slept; no mortal pain or fear _640 +Marred his repose; the influxes of sense, +And his own being unalloyed by pain, +Yet feebler and more feeble, calmly fed +The stream of thought, till he lay breathing there +At peace, and faintly smiling:—his last sight _645 +Was the great moon, which o’er the western line +Of the wide world her mighty horn suspended, +With whose dun beams inwoven darkness seemed +To mingle. Now upon the jagged hills +It rests; and still as the divided frame _650 +Of the vast meteor sunk, the Poet’s blood, +That ever beat in mystic sympathy +With nature’s ebb and flow, grew feebler still: +And when two lessening points of light alone +Gleamed through the darkness, the alternate gasp _655 +Of his faint respiration scarce did stir +The stagnate night:—till the minutest ray +Was quenched, the pulse yet lingered in his heart. +It paused—it fluttered. But when heaven remained +Utterly black, the murky shades involved _660 +An image, silent, cold, and motionless, +As their own voiceless earth and vacant air. +Even as a vapour fed with golden beams +That ministered on sunlight, ere the west +Eclipses it, was now that wondrous frame— _665 +No sense, no motion, no divinity— +A fragile lute, on whose harmonious strings +The breath of heaven did wander—a bright stream +Once fed with many-voiced waves—a dream +Of youth, which night and time have quenched for ever, _670 +Still, dark, and dry, and unremembered now. + +Oh, for Medea’s wondrous alchemy, +Which wheresoe’er it fell made the earth gleam +With bright flowers, and the wintry boughs exhale +From vernal blooms fresh fragrance! O, that God, _675 +Profuse of poisons, would concede the chalice +Which but one living man has drained, who now, +Vessel of deathless wrath, a slave that feels +No proud exemption in the blighting curse +He bears, over the world wanders for ever, _680 +Lone as incarnate death! O, that the dream +Of dark magician in his visioned cave, +Raking the cinders of a crucible +For life and power, even when his feeble hand +Shakes in its last decay, were the true law _685 +Of this so lovely world! But thou art fled, +Like some frail exhalation; which the dawn +Robes in its golden beams,—ah! thou hast fled! +The brave, the gentle and the beautiful, +The child of grace and genius. Heartless things _690 +Are done and said i’ the world, and many worms +And beasts and men live on, and mighty Earth +From sea and mountain, city and wilderness, +In vesper low or joyous orison, +Lifts still its solemn voice:—but thou art fled— _695 +Thou canst no longer know or love the shapes +Of this phantasmal scene, who have to thee +Been purest ministers, who are, alas! +Now thou art not. Upon those pallid lips +So sweet even in their silence, on those eyes _700 +That image sleep in death, upon that form +Yet safe from the worm’s outrage, let no tear +Be shed—not even in thought. Nor, when those hues +Are gone, and those divinest lineaments, +Worn by the senseless wind, shall live alone _705 +In the frail pauses of this simple strain, +Let not high verse, mourning the memory +Of that which is no more, or painting’s woe +Or sculpture, speak in feeble imagery +Their own cold powers. Art and eloquence, _710 +And all the shows o’ the world are frail and vain +To weep a loss that turns their lights to shade. +It is a woe “too deep for tears,” when all +Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit, +Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves _715 +Those who remain behind, not sobs or groans, +The passionate tumult of a clinging hope; +But pale despair and cold tranquillity, +Nature’s vast frame, the web of human things, +Birth and the grave, that are not as they were. _720 + + +Notes: +_219 Conduct edition 1816. See “Editor’s Notes”. +_530 roots edition 1816: query stumps or trunks. See “Editor’s Notes”. + + +NOTE ON ALASTOR, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +“Alastor” is written in a very different tone from “Queen Mab”. In the +latter, Shelley poured out all the cherished speculations of his +youth—all the irrepressible emotions of sympathy, censure, and hope, +to which the present suffering, and what he considers the proper +destiny of his fellow-creatures, gave birth. “Alastor”, on the +contrary, contains an individual interest only. A very few years, with +their attendant events, had checked the ardour of Shelley’s hopes, +though he still thought them well-grounded, and that to advance their +fulfilment was the noblest task man could achieve. + +This is neither the time nor place to speak of the misfortunes that +chequered his life. It will be sufficient to say that, in all he did, +he at the time of doing it believed himself justified to his own +conscience; while the various ills of poverty and loss of friends +brought home to him the sad realities of life. Physical suffering had +also considerable influence in causing him to turn his eyes inward; +inclining him rather to brood over the thoughts and emotions of his +own soul than to glance abroad, and to make, as in “Queen Mab”, the +whole universe the object and subject of his song. In the Spring of +1815, an eminent physician pronounced that he was dying rapidly of a +consumption; abscesses were formed on his lungs, and he suffered acute +spasms. Suddenly a complete change took place; and though through life +he was a martyr to pain and debility, every symptom of pulmonary +disease vanished. His nerves, which nature had formed sensitive to an +unexampled degree, were rendered still more susceptible by the state +of his health. + +As soon as the peace of 1814 had opened the Continent, he went abroad. +He visited some of the more magnificent scenes of Switzerland, and +returned to England from Lucerne, by the Reuss and the Rhine. This +river-navigation enchanted him. In his favourite poem of “Thalaba”, +his imagination had been excited by a description of such a voyage. In +the summer of 1815, after a tour along the southern coast of +Devonshire and a visit to Clifton, he rented a house on Bishopgate +Heath, on the borders of Windsor Forest, where he enjoyed several +months of comparative health and tranquil happiness. The later summer +months were warm and dry. Accompanied by a few friends, he visited the +source of the Thames, making a voyage in a wherry from Windsor to +Crichlade. His beautiful stanzas in the churchyard of Lechlade were +written on that occasion. “Alastor” was composed on his return. He +spent his days under the oak-shades of Windsor Great Park; and the +magnificent woodland was a fitting study to inspire the various +descriptions of forest scenery we find in the poem. + +None of Shelley’s poems is more characteristic than this. The solemn +spirit that reigns throughout, the worship of the majesty of nature, +the broodings of a poet’s heart in solitude—the mingling of the +exulting joy which the various aspects of the visible universe +inspires with the sad and struggling pangs which human passion +imparts—give a touching interest to the whole. The death which he had +often contemplated during the last months as certain and near he here +represented in such colours as had, in his lonely musings, soothed his +soul to peace. The versification sustains the solemn spirit which +breathes throughout: it is peculiarly melodious. The poem ought rather +to be considered didactic than narrative: it was the outpouring of his +own emotions, embodied in the purest form he could conceive, painted +in the ideal hues which his brilliant imagination inspired, and +softened by the recent anticipation of death. + +*** + + +THE REVOLT OF ISLAM. + +A POEM IN TWELVE CANTOS. + +Osais de Broton ethnos aglaiais aptomestha +perainei pros eschaton +ploon nausi d oute pezos ion an eurois +es Uperboreon agona thaumatan odon. + +Pind. Pyth. x. + +[Composed in the neighbourhood of Bisham Wood, near Great Marlow, +Bucks, 1817 (April-September 23); printed, with title (dated 1818), +“Laon and Cythna; or, The Revolution of the Golden City: A Vision of +the Nineteenth Century”, October, November, 1817, but suppressed, +pending revision, by the publishers, C & J. Ollier. (A few copies had +got out, but these were recalled, and some recovered.) Published, with +a fresh title-page and twenty-seven cancel-leaves, as “The Revolt of +Islam”, January 10, 1818. Sources of the text are (1) “Laon and +Cythna”, 1818; (2) “The Revolt of Islam”, 1818; (3) “Poetical Works”, +1839, editions 1st and 2nd—both edited by Mrs. Shelley. A copy, with +several pages missing, of the “Preface”, the Dedication”, and “Canto +1” of “Laon and Cythna” is amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the +Bodleian. For a full collation of this manuscript see Mr. C.D. +Locock’s “Examination of the Shelley Manuscripts at the Bodleian +Library”. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1903. Two manuscript fragments from +the Hunt papers are also extant: one (twenty-four lines) in the +possession of Mr. W.M. Rossetti, another (9 23 9 to 29 6) in that of +Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B. See “The Shelley Library”, pages 83-86, for +an account of the copy of “Laon” upon which Shelley worked in revising +for publication.] + +AUTHOR’S PREFACE. + +The Poem which I now present to the world is an attempt from which I +scarcely dare to expect success, and in which a writer of established +fame might fail without disgrace. It is an experiment on the temper of +the public mind, as to how far a thirst for a happier condition of +moral and political society survives, among the enlightened and +refined, the tempests which have shaken the age in which we live. I +have sought to enlist the harmony of metrical language, the ethereal +combinations of the fancy, the rapid and subtle transitions of human +passion, all those elements which essentially compose a Poem, in the +cause of a liberal and comprehensive morality; and in the view of +kindling within the bosoms of my readers a virtuous enthusiasm for +those doctrines of liberty and justice, that faith and hope in +something good, which neither violence nor misrepresentation nor +prejudice can ever totally extinguish among mankind. + +For this purpose I have chosen a story of human passion in its most +universal character, diversified with moving and romantic adventures, +and appealing, in contempt of all artificial opinions or institutions, +to the common sympathies of every human breast. I have made no attempt +to recommend the motives which I would substitute for those at present +governing mankind, by methodical and systematic argument. I would only +awaken the feelings, so that the reader should see the beauty of true +virtue, and be incited to those inquiries which have led to my moral +and political creed, and that of some of the sublimest intellects in +the world. The Poem therefore (with the exception of the first canto, +which is purely introductory) is narrative, not didactic. It is a +succession of pictures illustrating the growth and progress of +individual mind aspiring after excellence, and devoted to the love of +mankind; its influence in refining and making pure the most daring and +uncommon impulses of the imagination, the understanding, and the +senses; its impatience at ‘all the oppressions which are done under +the sun;’ its tendency to awaken public hope, and to enlighten and +improve mankind; the rapid effects of the application of that +tendency; the awakening of an immense nation from their slavery and +degradation to a true sense of moral dignity and freedom; the +bloodless dethronement of their oppressors, and the unveiling of the +religious frauds by which they had been deluded into submission; the +tranquillity of successful patriotism, and the universal toleration +and benevolence of true philanthropy; the treachery and barbarity of +hired soldiers; vice not the object of punishment and hatred, but +kindness and pity; the faithlessness of tyrants; the confederacy of +the Rulers of the World and the restoration of the expelled Dynasty by +foreign arms; the massacre and extermination of the Patriots, and the +victory of established power; the consequences of legitimate +despotism,—civil war, famine, plague, superstition, and an utter +extinction of the domestic affections; the judicial murder of the +advocates of Liberty; the temporary triumph of oppression, that secure +earnest of its final and inevitable fall; the transient nature of +ignorance and error and the eternity of genius and virtue. Such is the +series of delineations of which the Poem consists. And, if the lofty +passions with which it has been my scope to distinguish this story +shall not excite in the reader a generous impulse, an ardent thirst +for excellence, an interest profound and strong such as belongs to no +meaner desires, let not the failure be imputed to a natural unfitness +for human sympathy in these sublime and animating themes. It is the +business of the Poet to communicate to others the pleasure and the +enthusiasm arising out of those images and feelings in the vivid +presence of which within his own mind consists at once his inspiration +and his reward. + +The panic which, like an epidemic transport, seized upon all classes +of men during the excesses consequent upon the French Revolution, is +gradually giving place to sanity. It has ceased to be believed that +whole generations of mankind ought to consign themselves to a hopeless +inheritance of ignorance and misery, because a nation of men who had +been dupes and slaves for centuries were incapable of conducting +themselves with the wisdom and tranquillity of freemen so soon as some +of their fetters were partially loosened. That their conduct could not +have been marked by any other characters than ferocity and +thoughtlessness is the historical fact from which liberty derives all +its recommendations, and falsehood the worst features of its +deformity. There is a reflux in the tide of human things which bears +the shipwrecked hopes of men into a secure haven after the storms are +past. Methinks, those who now live have survived an age of despair. + +The French Revolution may be considered as one of those manifestations +of a general state of feeling among civilised mankind produced by a +defect of correspondence between the knowledge existing in society and +the improvement or gradual abolition of political institutions. The +year 1788 may be assumed as the epoch of one of the most important +crises produced by this feeling. The sympathies connected with that +event extended to every bosom. The most generous and amiable natures +were those which participated the most extensively in these +sympathies. But such a degree of unmingled good was expected as it was +impossible to realise. If the Revolution had been in every respect +prosperous, then misrule and superstition would lose half their claims +to our abhorrence, as fetters which the captive can unlock with the +slightest motion of his fingers, and which do not eat with poisonous +rust into the soul. The revulsion occasioned by the atrocities of the +demagogues, and the re-establishment of successive tyrannies in +France, was terrible, and felt in the remotest corner of the civilised +world. Could they listen to the plea of reason who had groaned under +the calamities of a social state according to the provisions of which +one man riots in luxury whilst another famishes for want of bread? Can +he who the day before was a trampled slave suddenly become +liberal-minded, forbearing, and independent? This is the consequence +of the habits of a state of society to be produced by resolute +perseverance and indefatigable hope, and long-suffering and +long-believing courage, and the systematic efforts of generations of +men of intellect and virtue. Such is the lesson which experience +teaches now. But, on the first reverses of hope in the progress of +French liberty, the sanguine eagerness for good overleaped the +solution of these questions, and for a time extinguished itself in the +unexpectedness of their result. Thus, many of the most ardent and +tender-hearted of the worshippers of public good have been morally +ruined by what a partial glimpse of the events they deplored appeared +to show as the melancholy desolation of all their cherished hopes. +Hence gloom and misanthropy have become the characteristics of the age +in which we live, the solace of a disappointment that unconsciously +finds relief only in the wilful exaggeration of its own despair. This +influence has tainted the literature of the age with the hopelessness +of the minds from which it flows. Metaphysics (I ought to except sir +W. Drummond’s “Academical Questions”; a volume of very acute and +powerful metaphysical criticism.), and inquiries into moral and +political science, have become little else than vain attempts to +revive exploded superstitions, or sophisms like those of Mr. Malthus +(It is remarkable, as a symptom of the revival of public hope, that +Mr. Malthus has assigned, in the later editions of his work, an +indefinite dominion to moral restraint over the principle of +population. This concession answers all the inferences from his +doctrine unfavourable to human improvement, and reduces the “Essay on +Population” to a commentary illustrative of the unanswerableness of +“Political Justice”.), calculated to lull the oppressors of mankind +into a security of everlasting triumph. Our works of fiction and +poetry have been overshadowed by the same infectious gloom. But +mankind appear to me to be emerging from their trance. I am aware, +methinks, of a slow, gradual, silent change. In that belief I have +composed the following Poem. + +I do not presume to enter into competition with our greatest +contemporary Poets. Yet I am unwilling to tread in the footsteps of +any who have preceded me. I have sought to avoid the imitation of any +style of language or versification peculiar to the original minds of +which it is the character; designing that, even if what I have +produced be worthless, it should still be properly my own. Nor have I +permitted any system relating to mere words to divert the attention of +the reader, from whatever interest I may have succeeded in creating, +to my own ingenuity in contriving to disgust them according to the +rules of criticism. I have simply clothed my thoughts in what appeared +to me the most obvious and appropriate language. A person familiar +with nature, and with the most celebrated productions of the human +mind, can scarcely err in following the instinct, with respect to +selection of language, produced by that familiarity. + +There is an education peculiarly fitted for a Poet, without which +genius and sensibility can hardly fill the circle of their capacities. +No education, indeed, can entitle to this appellation a dull and +unobservant mind, or one, though neither dull nor unobservant, in +which the channels of communication between thought and expression +have been obstructed or closed. How far it is my fortune to belong to +either of the latter classes I cannot know. I aspire to be something +better. The circumstances of my accidental education have been +favourable to this ambition. I have been familiar from boyhood with +mountains and lakes and the sea, and the solitude of forests: Danger, +which sports upon the brink of precipices, has been my playmate. I +have trodden the glaciers of the Alps, and lived under the eye of Mont +Blanc. I have been a wanderer among distant fields. I have sailed down +mighty rivers, and seen the sun rise and set, and the stars come +forth, whilst I have sailed night and day down a rapid stream among +mountains. I have seen populous cities, and have watched the passions +which rise and spread, and sink and change, amongst assembled +multitudes of men. I have seen the theatre of the more visible ravages +of tyranny and war, cities and villages reduced to scattered groups of +black and roofless houses, and the naked inhabitants sitting famished +upon their desolated thresholds. I have conversed with living men of +genius. The poetry of ancient Greece and Rome, and modern Italy, and +our own country, has been to me, like external nature, a passion and +an enjoyment. Such are the sources from which the materials for the +imagery of my Poem have been drawn. I have considered Poetry in its +most comprehensive sense; and have read the Poets and the Historians +and the Metaphysicians (In this sense there may be such a thing as +perfectibility in works of fiction, notwithstanding the concession +often made by the advocates of human improvement, that perfectibility +is a term applicable only to science.) whose writings have been +accessible to me, and have looked upon the beautiful and majestic +scenery of the earth, as common sources of those elements which it is +the province of the Poet to embody and combine. Yet the experience and +the feelings to which I refer do not in themselves constitute men +Poets, but only prepares them to be the auditors of those who are. How +far I shall be found to possess that more essential attribute of +Poetry, the power of awakening in others sensations like those which +animate my own bosom, is that which, to speak sincerely, I know not; +and which, with an acquiescent and contented spirit, I expect to be +taught by the effect which I shall produce upon those whom I now +address. + +I have avoided, as I have said before, the imitation of any +contemporary style. But there must be a resemblance, which does not +depend upon their own will, between all the writers of any particular +age. They cannot escape from subjection to a common influence which +arises out of an infinite combination of circumstances belonging to +the times in which they live; though each is in a degree the author of +the very influence by which his being is thus pervaded. Thus, the +tragic poets of the age of Pericles; the Italian revivers of ancient +learning; those mighty intellects of our own country that succeeded +the Reformation, the translators of the Bible, Shakespeare, Spenser, +the Dramatists of the reign of Elizabeth, and Lord Bacon (Milton +stands alone in the age which he illumined.); the colder spirits of +the interval that succeeded;—all resemble each other, and differ from +every other in their several classes. In this view of things, Ford can +no more be called the imitator of Shakespeare than Shakespeare the +imitator of Ford. There were perhaps few other points of resemblance +between these two men than that which the universal and inevitable +influence of their age produced. And this is an influence which +neither the meanest scribbler nor the sublimest genius of any era can +escape; and which I have not attempted to escape. + +I have adopted the stanza of Spenser (a measure inexpressibly +beautiful), not because I consider it a finer model of poetical +harmony than the blank verse of Shakespeare and Milton, but because in +the latter there is no shelter for mediocrity; you must either succeed +or fail. This perhaps an aspiring spirit should desire. But I was +enticed also by the brilliancy and magnificence of sound which a mind +that has been nourished upon musical thoughts can produce by a just +and harmonious arrangement of the pauses of this measure. Yet there +will be found some instances where I have completely failed in this +attempt, and one, which I here request the reader to consider as an +erratum, where there is left, most inadvertently, an alexandrine in +the middle of a stanza. + +But in this, as in every other respect, I have written fearlessly. It +is the misfortune of this age that its Writers, too thoughtless of +immortality, are exquisitely sensible to temporary praise or blame. +They write with the fear of Reviews before their eyes. This system of +criticism sprang up in that torpid interval when Poetry was not. +Poetry, and the art which professes to regulate and limit its powers, +cannot subsist together. Longinus could not have been the contemporary +of Homer, nor Boileau of Horace. Yet this species of criticism never +presumed to assert an understanding of its own; it has always, unlike +true science, followed, not preceded, the opinion of mankind, and +would even now bribe with worthless adulation some of our greatest +Poets to impose gratuitous fetters on their own imaginations, and +become unconscious accomplices in the daily murder of all genius +either not so aspiring or not so fortunate as their own. I have sought +therefore to write, as I believe that Homer, Shakespeare, and Milton +wrote, with an utter disregard of anonymous censure. I am certain that +calumny and misrepresentation, though it may move me to compassion, +cannot disturb my peace. I shall understand the expressive silence of +those sagacious enemies who dare not trust themselves to speak. I +shall endeavour to extract, from the midst of insult and contempt and +maledictions, those admonitions which may tend to correct whatever +imperfections such censurers may discover in this my first serious +appeal to the Public. If certain Critics were as clear-sighted as they +are malignant, how great would be the benefit to be derived from their +virulent writings! As it is, I fear I shall be malicious enough to be +amused with their paltry tricks and lame invectives. Should the Public +judge that my composition is worthless, I shall indeed bow before the +tribunal from which Milton received his crown of immortality, and +shall seek to gather, if I live, strength from that defeat, which may +nerve me to some new enterprise of thought which may not be worthless. +I cannot conceive that Lucretius, when he meditated that poem whose +doctrines are yet the basis of our metaphysical knowledge, and whose +eloquence has been the wonder of mankind, wrote in awe of such censure +as the hired sophists of the impure and superstitious noblemen of Rome +might affix to what he should produce. It was at the period when +Greece was led captive and Asia made tributary to the Republic, fast +verging itself to slavery and ruin, that a multitude of Syrian +captives, bigoted to the worship of their obscene Ashtaroth, and the +unworthy successors of Socrates and Zeno, found there a precarious +subsistence by administering, under the name of freedmen, to the vices +and vanities of the great. These wretched men were skilled to plead, +with a superficial but plausible set of sophisms, in favour of that +contempt for virtue which is the portion of slaves, and that faith in +portents, the most fatal substitute for benevolence in the +imaginations of men, which, arising from the enslaved communities of +the East, then first began to overwhelm the western nations in its +stream. Were these the kind of men whose disapprobation the wise and +lofty-minded Lucretius should have regarded with a salutary awe? The +latest and perhaps the meanest of those who follow in his footsteps +would disdain to hold life on such conditions. + +The Poem now presented to the Public occupied little more than six +months in the composition. That period has been devoted to the task +with unremitting ardour and enthusiasm. I have exercised a watchful +and earnest criticism on my work as it grew under my hands. I would +willingly have sent it forth to the world with that perfection which +long labour and revision is said to bestow. But I found that, if I +should gain something in exactness by this method, I might lose much +of the newness and energy of imagery and language as it flowed fresh +from my mind. And, although the mere composition occupied no more than +six months, the thoughts thus arranged were slowly gathered in as many +years. + +I trust that the reader will carefully distinguish between those +opinions which have a dramatic propriety in reference to the +characters which they are designed to elucidate, and such as are +properly my own. The erroneous and degrading idea which men have +conceived of a Supreme Being, for instance, is spoken against, but not +the Supreme Being itself. The belief which some superstitious persons +whom I have brought upon the stage entertain of the Deity, as +injurious to the character of his benevolence, is widely different +from my own. In recommending also a great and important change in the +spirit which animates the social institutions of mankind, I have +avoided all flattery to those violent and malignant passions of our +nature which are ever on the watch to mingle with and to alloy the +most beneficial innovations. There is no quarter given to Revenge, or +Envy, or Prejudice. Love is celebrated everywhere as the sole law +which should govern the moral world. + + +DEDICATION. + +There is no danger to a man that knows +What life and death is: there’s not any law +Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful +That he should stoop to any other law.—CHAPMAN. + +TO MARY — —. + +1. +So now my summer-task is ended, Mary, +And I return to thee, mine own heart’s home; +As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faery, +Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome; +Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame become _5 +A star among the stars of mortal night, +If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom, +Its doubtful promise thus I would unite +With thy beloved name, thou Child of love and light. + +2. +The toil which stole from thee so many an hour, _10 +Is ended,—and the fruit is at thy feet! +No longer where the woods to frame a bower +With interlaced branches mix and meet, +Or where with sound like many voices sweet, +Waterfalls leap among wild islands green, _15 +Which framed for my lone boat a lone retreat +Of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen; +But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been. + +3. +Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear Friend, when first +The clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass. _20 +I do remember well the hour which burst +My spirit’s sleep. A fresh May-dawn it was, +When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, +And wept, I knew not why; until there rose +From the near schoolroom, voices that, alas! _25 +Were but one echo from a world of woes— +The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes. + +4. +And then I clasped my hands and looked around— +—But none was near to mock my streaming eyes, +Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground— _30 +So without shame I spake:—‘I will be wise, +And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies +Such power, for I grow weary to behold +The selfish and the strong still tyrannise +Without reproach or check.’ I then controlled _35 +My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold. + +5. +And from that hour did I with earnest thought +Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore; +Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught +I cared to learn, but from that secret store _40 +Wrought linked armour for my soul, before +It might walk forth to war among mankind; +Thus power and hope were strengthened more and more +Within me, till there came upon my mind +A sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined. _45 + +6. +Alas, that love should be a blight and snare +To those who seek all sympathies in one!— +Such once I sought in vain; then black despair, +The shadow of a starless night, was thrown +Over the world in which I moved alone:— _50 +Yet never found I one not false to me, +Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone +Which crushed and withered mine, that could not be +Aught but a lifeless clod, until revived by thee. + +7. +Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart _55 +Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain; +How beautiful and calm and free thou wert +In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain +Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain, +And walked as free as light the clouds among, _60 +Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain +From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung +To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long! + +8. +No more alone through the world’s wilderness, +Although I trod the paths of high intent, _65 +I journeyed now: no more companionless, +Where solitude is like despair, I went.— +There is the wisdom of a stern content +When Poverty can blight the just and good, +When Infamy dares mock the innocent, _70 +And cherished friends turn with the multitude +To trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood! + +9. +Now has descended a serener hour, +And with inconstant fortune, friends return; +Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the power _75 +Which says:—Let scorn be not repaid with scorn. +And from thy side two gentle babes are born +To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we +Most fortunate beneath life’s beaming morn; +And these delights, and thou, have been to me _80 +The parents of the Song I consecrate to thee. + +10. +Is it that now my inexperienced fingers +But strike the prelude of a loftier strain? +Or, must the lyre on which my spirit lingers +Soon pause in silence, ne’er to sound again, _85 +Though it might shake the Anarch Custom’s reign, +And charm the minds of men to Truth’s own sway +Holier than was Amphion’s? I would fain +Reply in hope—but I am worn away, +And Death and Love are yet contending for their prey. _90 + +11. +And what art thou? I know, but dare not speak: +Time may interpret to his silent years. +Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek, +And in the light thine ample forehead wears, +And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears, _95 +And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy +Is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears: +And through thine eyes, even in thy soul I see +A lamp of vestal fire burning internally. + +12. +They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth, _100 +Of glorious parents thou aspiring Child. +I wonder not—for One then left this earth +Whose life was like a setting planet mild, +Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled +Of its departing glory; still her fame _105 +Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild +Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim +The shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name. + +13. +One voice came forth from many a mighty spirit, +Which was the echo of three thousand years; _110 +And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it, +As some lone man who in a desert hears +The music of his home:—unwonted fears +Fell on the pale oppressors of our race, +And Faith, and Custom, and low-thoughted cares, _115 +Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space +Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling-place. + +14. +Truth’s deathless voice pauses among mankind! +If there must be no response to my cry— +If men must rise and stamp with fury blind _120 +On his pure name who loves them,—thou and I, +Sweet friend! can look from our tranquillity +Like lamps into the world’s tempestuous night,— +Two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing by +Which wrap them from the foundering seaman’s sight, _125 +That burn from year to year with unextinguished light. + + +NOTES. +_54 cloaking edition 1818. See notes at end. + + +CANTO 1. + +1. +When the last hope of trampled France had failed +Like a brief dream of unremaining glory, +From visions of despair I rose, and scaled +The peak of an aerial promontory, _130 +Whose caverned base with the vexed surge was hoary; +And saw the golden dawn break forth, and waken +Each cloud, and every wave:—but transitory +The calm; for sudden, the firm earth was shaken, +As if by the last wreck its frame were overtaken. _135 + +2. +So as I stood, one blast of muttering thunder +Burst in far peals along the waveless deep, +When, gathering fast, around, above, and under, +Long trains of tremulous mist began to creep, +Until their complicating lines did steep _140 +The orient sun in shadow:—not a sound +Was heard; one horrible repose did keep +The forests and the floods, and all around +Darkness more dread than night was poured upon the ground. + +3. +Hark! ’tis the rushing of a wind that sweeps _145 +Earth and the ocean. See! the lightnings yawn +Deluging Heaven with fire, and the lashed deeps +Glitter and boil beneath: it rages on, +One mighty stream, whirlwind and waves upthrown, +Lightning, and hail, and darkness eddying by. _150 +There is a pause—the sea-birds, that were gone +Into their caves to shriek, come forth, to spy +What calm has fall’n on earth, what light is in the sky. + +4. +For, where the irresistible storm had cloven +That fearful darkness, the blue sky was seen _155 +Fretted with many a fair cloud interwoven +Most delicately, and the ocean green, +Beneath that opening spot of blue serene, +Quivered like burning emerald; calm was spread +On all below; but far on high, between _160 +Earth and the upper air, the vast clouds fled, +Countless and swift as leaves on autumn’s tempest shed. + +5. +For ever, as the war became more fierce +Between the whirlwinds and the rack on high, +That spot grew more serene; blue light did pierce _165 +The woof of those white clouds, which seem to lie +Far, deep, and motionless; while through the sky +The pallid semicircle of the moon +Passed on, in slow and moving majesty; +Its upper horn arrayed in mists, which soon _170 +But slowly fled, like dew beneath the beams of noon. + +6. +I could not choose but gaze; a fascination +Dwelt in that moon, and sky, and clouds, which drew +My fancy thither, and in expectation +Of what I knew not, I remained:—the hue _175 +Of the white moon, amid that heaven so blue, +Suddenly stained with shadow did appear; +A speck, a cloud, a shape, approaching grew, +Like a great ship in the sun’s sinking sphere +Beheld afar at sea, and swift it came anear. _180 + +7. +Even like a bark, which from a chasm of mountains, +Dark, vast and overhanging, on a river +Which there collects the strength of all its fountains, +Comes forth, whilst with the speed its frame doth quiver, +Sails, oars and stream, tending to one endeavour; _185 +So, from that chasm of light a winged Form +On all the winds of heaven approaching ever +Floated, dilating as it came; the storm +Pursued it with fierce blasts, and lightnings swift and warm. + +8. +A course precipitous, of dizzy speed, _190 +Suspending thought and breath; a monstrous sight! +For in the air do I behold indeed +An Eagle and a Serpent wreathed in fight:— +And now, relaxing its impetuous flight, +Before the aerial rock on which I stood, _195 +The Eagle, hovering, wheeled to left and right, +And hung with lingering wings over the flood, +And startled with its yells the wide air’s solitude. + +9. +A shaft of light upon its wings descended, +And every golden feather gleamed therein— _200 +Feather and scale, inextricably blended. +The Serpent’s mailed and many-coloured skin +Shone through the plumes its coils were twined within +By many a swoln and knotted fold, and high +And far, the neck, receding lithe and thin, _205 +Sustained a crested head, which warily +Shifted and glanced before the Eagle’s steadfast eye. + +10. +Around, around, in ceaseless circles wheeling +With clang of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed +Incessantly—sometimes on high concealing _210 +Its lessening orbs, sometimes as if it failed, +Drooped through the air; and still it shrieked and wailed, +And casting back its eager head, with beak +And talon unremittingly assailed +The wreathed Serpent, who did ever seek _215 +Upon his enemy’s heart a mortal wound to wreak. + +11. +What life, what power, was kindled and arose +Within the sphere of that appalling fray! +For, from the encounter of those wondrous foes, +A vapour like the sea’s suspended spray _220 +Hung gathered; in the void air, far away, +Floated the shattered plumes; bright scales did leap, +Where’er the Eagle’s talons made their way, +Like sparks into the darkness;—as they sweep, +Blood stains the snowy foam of the tumultuous deep. _225 + +12. +Swift chances in that combat—many a check, +And many a change, a dark and wild turmoil; +Sometimes the Snake around his enemy’s neck +Locked in stiff rings his adamantine coil, +Until the Eagle, faint with pain and toil, _230 +Remitted his strong flight, and near the sea +Languidly fluttered, hopeless so to foil +His adversary, who then reared on high +His red and burning crest, radiant with victory. + +13. +Then on the white edge of the bursting surge, _235 +Where they had sunk together, would the Snake +Relax his suffocating grasp, and scourge +The wind with his wild writhings; for to break +That chain of torment, the vast bird would shake +The strength of his unconquerable wings _240 +As in despair, and with his sinewy neck, +Dissolve in sudden shock those linked rings— +Then soar, as swift as smoke from a volcano springs. + +14. +Wile baffled wile, and strength encountered strength, +Thus long, but unprevailing:—the event _245 +Of that portentous fight appeared at length: +Until the lamp of day was almost spent +It had endured, when lifeless, stark, and rent, +Hung high that mighty Serpent, and at last +Fell to the sea, while o’er the continent _250 +With clang of wings and scream the Eagle passed, +Heavily borne away on the exhausted blast. + +15. +And with it fled the tempest, so that ocean +And earth and sky shone through the atmosphere— +Only, ’twas strange to see the red commotion _255 +Of waves like mountains o’er the sinking sphere +Of sunset sweep, and their fierce roar to hear +Amid the calm: down the steep path I wound +To the sea-shore—the evening was most clear +And beautiful, and there the sea I found _260 +Calm as a cradled child in dreamless slumber bound. + +16. +There was a Woman, beautiful as morning, +Sitting beneath the rocks, upon the sand +Of the waste sea—fair as one flower adorning +An icy wilderness; each delicate hand _265 +Lay crossed upon her bosom, and the band +Of her dark hair had fall’n, and so she sate +Looking upon the waves; on the bare strand +Upon the sea-mark a small boat did wait, +Fair as herself, like Love by Hope left desolate. _270 + +17. +It seemed that this fair Shape had looked upon +That unimaginable fight, and now +That her sweet eyes were weary of the sun, +As brightly it illustrated her woe; +For in the tears which silently to flow _275 +Paused not, its lustre hung: she watching aye +The foam-wreaths which the faint tide wove below +Upon the spangled sands, groaned heavily, +And after every groan looked up over the sea. + +18. +And when she saw the wounded Serpent make _280 +His path between the waves, her lips grew pale, +Parted, and quivered; the tears ceased to break +From her immovable eyes; no voice of wail +Escaped her; but she rose, and on the gale +Loosening her star-bright robe and shadowy hair _285 +Poured forth her voice; the caverns of the vale +That opened to the ocean, caught it there, +And filled with silver sounds the overflowing air. + +19. +She spake in language whose strange melody +Might not belong to earth. I heard alone, _290 +What made its music more melodious be, +The pity and the love of every tone; +But to the Snake those accents sweet were known +His native tongue and hers; nor did he beat +The hoar spray idly then, but winding on _295 +Through the green shadows of the waves that meet +Near to the shore, did pause beside her snowy feet. + +20. +Then on the sands the Woman sate again, +And wept and clasped her hands, and all between, +Renewed the unintelligible strain _300 +Of her melodious voice and eloquent mien; +And she unveiled her bosom, and the green +And glancing shadows of the sea did play +O’er its marmoreal depth:—one moment seen, +For ere the next, the Serpent did obey _305 +Her voice, and, coiled in rest in her embrace it lay. + +21. +Then she arose, and smiled on me with eyes +Serene yet sorrowing, like that planet fair, +While yet the daylight lingereth in the skies +Which cleaves with arrowy beams the dark-red air, _310 +And said: ‘To grieve is wise, but the despair +Was weak and vain which led thee here from sleep: +This shalt thou know, and more, if thou dost dare +With me and with this Serpent, o’er the deep, +A voyage divine and strange, companionship to keep.’ _315 + +22. +Her voice was like the wildest, saddest tone, +Yet sweet, of some loved voice heard long ago. +I wept. ‘Shall this fair woman all alone, +Over the sea with that fierce Serpent go? +His head is on her heart, and who can know _320 +How soon he may devour his feeble prey?’— +Such were my thoughts, when the tide gan to flow; +And that strange boat like the moon’s shade did sway +Amid reflected stars that in the waters lay:— + +23. +A boat of rare device, which had no sail _325 +But its own curved prow of thin moonstone, +Wrought like a web of texture fine and frail, +To catch those gentlest winds which are not known +To breathe, but by the steady speed alone +With which it cleaves the sparkling sea; and now _330 +We are embarked—the mountains hang and frown +Over the starry deep that gleams below, +A vast and dim expanse, as o’er the waves we go. + +24. +And as we sailed, a strange and awful tale +That Woman told, like such mysterious dream _335 +As makes the slumberer’s cheek with wonder pale! +’Twas midnight, and around, a shoreless stream, +Wide ocean rolled, when that majestic theme +Shrined in her heart found utterance, and she bent +Her looks on mine; those eyes a kindling beam _340 +Of love divine into my spirit sent, +And ere her lips could move, made the air eloquent. + +25. +‘Speak not to me, but hear! Much shalt thou learn, +Much must remain unthought, and more untold, +In the dark Future’s ever-flowing urn: _345 +Know then, that from the depth of ages old +Two Powers o’er mortal things dominion hold, +Ruling the world with a divided lot, +Immortal, all-pervading, manifold, +Twin Genii, equal Gods—when life and thought _350 +Sprang forth, they burst the womb of inessential Nought. + +26. +‘The earliest dweller of the world, alone, +Stood on the verge of chaos. Lo! afar +O’er the wide wild abyss two meteors shone, +Sprung from the depth of its tempestuous jar: _355 +A blood-red Comet and the Morning Star +Mingling their beams in combat—as he stood, +All thoughts within his mind waged mutual war, +In dreadful sympathy—when to the flood +That fair Star fell, he turned and shed his brother’s blood. _360 + +27. +‘Thus evil triumphed, and the Spirit of evil, +One Power of many shapes which none may know, +One Shape of many names; the Fiend did revel +In victory, reigning o’er a world of woe, +For the new race of man went to and fro, _365 +Famished and homeless, loathed and loathing, wild, +And hating good—for his immortal foe, +He changed from starry shape, beauteous and mild, +To a dire Snake, with man and beast unreconciled. + +28. +‘The darkness lingering o’er the dawn of things, _370 +Was Evil’s breath and life; this made him strong +To soar aloft with overshadowing wings; +And the great Spirit of Good did creep among +The nations of mankind, and every tongue +Cursed and blasphemed him as he passed; for none _375 +Knew good from evil, though their names were hung +In mockery o’er the fane where many a groan, +As King, and Lord, and God, the conquering Fiend did own,— + +29. +‘The Fiend, whose name was Legion: Death, Decay, +Earthquake and Blight, and Want, and Madness pale, _380 +Winged and wan diseases, an array +Numerous as leaves that strew the autumnal gale; +Poison, a snake in flowers, beneath the veil +Of food and mirth, hiding his mortal head; +And, without whom all these might nought avail, _385 +Fear, Hatred, Faith, and Tyranny, who spread +Those subtle nets which snare the living and the dead. + +30. +‘His spirit is their power, and they his slaves +In air, and light, and thought, and language, dwell; +And keep their state from palaces to graves, _390 +In all resorts of men—invisible, +But when, in ebon mirror, Nightmare fell +To tyrant or impostor bids them rise, +Black winged demon forms—whom, from the hell, +His reign and dwelling beneath nether skies, _395 +He loosens to their dark and blasting ministries. + +31. +‘In the world’s youth his empire was as firm +As its foundations...Soon the Spirit of Good, +Though in the likeness of a loathsome worm, +Sprang from the billows of the formless flood, _400 +Which shrank and fled; and with that Fiend of blood +Renewed the doubtful war...Thrones then first shook, +And earth’s immense and trampled multitude +In hope on their own powers began to look, +And Fear, the demon pale, his sanguine shrine forsook. _405 + +32. +‘Then Greece arose, and to its bards and sages, +In dream, the golden-pinioned Genii came, +Even where they slept amid the night of ages, +Steeping their hearts in the divinest flame +Which thy breath kindled, Power of holiest name! _410 +And oft in cycles since, when darkness gave +New weapons to thy foe, their sunlike fame +Upon the combat shone—a light to save, +Like Paradise spread forth beyond the shadowy grave. + +33. +‘Such is this conflict—when mankind doth strive _415 +With its oppressors in a strife of blood, +Or when free thoughts, like lightnings, are alive, +And in each bosom of the multitude +Justice and truth with Custom’s hydra brood +Wage silent war; when Priests and Kings dissemble _420 +In smiles or frowns their fierce disquietude, +When round pure hearts a host of hopes assemble, +The Snake and Eagle meet—the world’s foundations tremble! + +34. +‘Thou hast beheld that fight—when to thy home +Thou dost return, steep not its hearth in tears; _425 +Though thou may’st hear that earth is now become +The tyrant’s garbage, which to his compeers, +The vile reward of their dishonoured years, +He will dividing give.—The victor Fiend, +Omnipotent of yore, now quails, and fears _430 +His triumph dearly won, which soon will lend +An impulse swift and sure to his approaching end. + +35. +‘List, stranger, list, mine is an human form, +Like that thou wearest—touch me—shrink not now! +My hand thou feel’st is not a ghost’s, but warm _435 +With human blood.—’Twas many years ago, +Since first my thirsting soul aspired to know +The secrets of this wondrous world, when deep +My heart was pierced with sympathy, for woe +Which could not be mine own, and thought did keep, _440 +In dream, unnatural watch beside an infant’s sleep. + +36. +‘Woe could not be mine own, since far from men +I dwelt, a free and happy orphan child, +By the sea-shore, in a deep mountain glen; +And near the waves, and through the forests wild, _445 +I roamed, to storm and darkness reconciled: +For I was calm while tempest shook the sky: +But when the breathless heavens in beauty smiled, +I wept, sweet tears, yet too tumultuously +For peace, and clasped my hands aloft in ecstasy. _450 + +37. +‘These were forebodings of my fate—before +A woman’s heart beat in my virgin breast, +It had been nurtured in divinest lore: +A dying poet gave me books, and blessed +With wild but holy talk the sweet unrest _455 +In which I watched him as he died away— +A youth with hoary hair—a fleeting guest +Of our lone mountains: and this lore did sway +My spirit like a storm, contending there alway. + +38. +‘Thus the dark tale which history doth unfold _460 +I knew, but not, methinks, as others know, +For they weep not; and Wisdom had unrolled +The clouds which hide the gulf of mortal woe,— +To few can she that warning vision show— +For I loved all things with intense devotion; _465 +So that when Hope’s deep source in fullest flow, +Like earthquake did uplift the stagnant ocean +Of human thoughts—mine shook beneath the wide emotion. + +39. +‘When first the living blood through all these veins +Kindled a thought in sense, great France sprang forth, _470 +And seized, as if to break, the ponderous chains +Which bind in woe the nations of the earth. +I saw, and started from my cottage-hearth; +And to the clouds and waves in tameless gladness +Shrieked, till they caught immeasurable mirth— _475 +And laughed in light and music: soon, sweet madness +Was poured upon my heart, a soft and thrilling sadness. + +40. +‘Deep slumber fell on me:—my dreams were fire— +Soft and delightful thoughts did rest and hover +Like shadows o’er my brain; and strange desire, _480 +The tempest of a passion, raging over +My tranquil soul, its depths with light did cover, +Which passed; and calm, and darkness, sweeter far, +Came—then I loved; but not a human lover! +For when I rose from sleep, the Morning Star _485 +Shone through the woodbine-wreaths which round my casement were. + +41. +‘’Twas like an eye which seemed to smile on me. +I watched, till by the sun made pale, it sank +Under the billows of the heaving sea; +But from its beams deep love my spirit drank, _490 +And to my brain the boundless world now shrank +Into one thought—one image—yes, for ever! +Even like the dayspring, poured on vapours dank, +The beams of that one Star did shoot and quiver +Through my benighted mind—and were extinguished never. _495 + +42. +‘The day passed thus: at night, methought, in dream +A shape of speechless beauty did appear: +It stood like light on a careering stream +Of golden clouds which shook the atmosphere; +A winged youth, his radiant brow did wear _500 +The Morning Star: a wild dissolving bliss +Over my frame he breathed, approaching near, +And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness +Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss,— + +43. +‘And said: “A Spirit loves thee, mortal maiden, _505 +How wilt thou prove thy worth?” Then joy and sleep +Together fled; my soul was deeply laden, +And to the shore I went to muse and weep; +But as I moved, over my heart did creep +A joy less soft, but more profound and strong _510 +Than my sweet dream; and it forbade to keep +The path of the sea-shore: that Spirit’s tongue +Seemed whispering in my heart, and bore my steps along. + +44. +‘How, to that vast and peopled city led, +Which was a field of holy warfare then, _515 +I walked among the dying and the dead, +And shared in fearless deeds with evil men, +Calm as an angel in the dragon’s den— +How I braved death for liberty and truth, +And spurned at peace, and power, and fame—and when _520 +Those hopes had lost the glory of their youth, +How sadly I returned—might move the hearer’s ruth: + +45. +‘Warm tears throng fast! the tale may not be said— +Know then, that when this grief had been subdued, +I was not left, like others, cold and dead; _525 +The Spirit whom I loved, in solitude +Sustained his child: the tempest-shaken wood, +The waves, the fountains, and the hush of night— +These were his voice, and well I understood +His smile divine, when the calm sea was bright _530 +With silent stars, and Heaven was breathless with delight. + +46. +‘In lonely glens, amid the roar of rivers, +When the dim nights were moonless, have I known +Joys which no tongue can tell; my pale lip quivers +When thought revisits them:—know thou alone, _535 +That after many wondrous years were flown, +I was awakened by a shriek of woe; +And over me a mystic robe was thrown, +By viewless hands, and a bright Star did glow +Before my steps—the Snake then met his mortal foe.’ _540 + +47. +‘Thou fearest not then the Serpent on thy heart?’ +‘Fear it!’ she said, with brief and passionate cry, +And spake no more: that silence made me start— +I looked, and we were sailing pleasantly, +Swift as a cloud between the sea and sky; _545 +Beneath the rising moon seen far away, +Mountains of ice, like sapphire, piled on high, +Hemming the horizon round, in silence lay +On the still waters—these we did approach alway. + +48. +And swift and swifter grew the vessel’s motion, _550 +So that a dizzy trance fell on my brain— +Wild music woke me; we had passed the ocean +Which girds the pole, Nature’s remotest reign— +And we glode fast o’er a pellucid plain +Of waters, azure with the noontide day. _555 +Ethereal mountains shone around—a Fane +Stood in the midst, girt by green isles which lay +On the blue sunny deep, resplendent far away. + +49. +It was a Temple, such as mortal hand +Has never built, nor ecstasy, nor dream _560 +Reared in the cities of enchanted land: +’Twas likest Heaven, ere yet day’s purple stream +Ebbs o’er the western forest, while the gleam +Of the unrisen moon among the clouds +Is gathering—when with many a golden beam _565 +The thronging constellations rush in crowds, +Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal floods. + +50. +Like what may be conceived of this vast dome, +When from the depths which thought can seldom pierce +Genius beholds it rise, his native home, _570 +Girt by the deserts of the Universe; +Yet, nor in painting’s light, or mightier verse, +Or sculpture’s marble language, can invest +That shape to mortal sense—such glooms immerse +That incommunicable sight, and rest _575 +Upon the labouring brain and overburdened breast. + +51. +Winding among the lawny islands fair, +Whose blosmy forests starred the shadowy deep, +The wingless boat paused where an ivory stair +Its fretwork in the crystal sea did steep, _580 +Encircling that vast Fane’s aerial heap: +We disembarked, and through a portal wide +We passed—whose roof of moonstone carved, did keep +A glimmering o’er the forms on every side, +Sculptures like life and thought, immovable, deep-eyed. _585 + +52. +We came to a vast hall, whose glorious roof +Was diamond, which had drunk the lightning’s sheen +In darkness, and now poured it through the woof +Of spell-inwoven clouds hung there to screen +Its blinding splendour—through such veil was seen _590 +That work of subtlest power, divine and rare; +Orb above orb, with starry shapes between, +And horned moons, and meteors strange and fair, +On night-black columns poised—one hollow hemisphere! + +53. +Ten thousand columns in that quivering light _595 +Distinct—between whose shafts wound far away +The long and labyrinthine aisles—more bright +With their own radiance than the Heaven of Day; +And on the jasper walls around, there lay +Paintings, the poesy of mightiest thought, _600 +Which did the Spirit’s history display; +A tale of passionate change, divinely taught, +Which, in their winged dance, unconscious Genii wrought. + +54. +Beneath, there sate on many a sapphire throne, +The Great, who had departed from mankind, _605 +A mighty Senate;—some, whose white hair shone +Like mountain snow, mild, beautiful, and blind; +Some, female forms, whose gestures beamed with mind; +And ardent youths, and children bright and fair; +And some had lyres whose strings were intertwined _610 +With pale and clinging flames, which ever there +Waked faint yet thrilling sounds that pierced the crystal air. + +55. +One seat was vacant in the midst, a throne, +Reared on a pyramid like sculptured flame, +Distinct with circling steps which rested on _615 +Their own deep fire—soon as the Woman came +Into that hall, she shrieked the Spirit’s name +And fell; and vanished slowly from the sight. +Darkness arose from her dissolving frame, +Which gathering, filled that dome of woven light, _620 +Blotting its sphered stars with supernatural night. + +56. +Then first, two glittering lights were seen to glide +In circles on the amethystine floor, +Small serpent eyes trailing from side to side, +Like meteors on a river’s grassy shore, _625 +They round each other rolled, dilating more +And more—then rose, commingling into one, +One clear and mighty planet hanging o’er +A cloud of deepest shadow, which was thrown +Athwart the glowing steps and the crystalline throne. _630 + +57. +The cloud which rested on that cone of flame +Was cloven; beneath the planet sate a Form, +Fairer than tongue can speak or thought may frame, +The radiance of whose limbs rose-like and warm +Flowed forth, and did with softest light inform _635 +The shadowy dome, the sculptures, and the state +Of those assembled shapes—with clinging charm +Sinking upon their hearts and mine. He sate +Majestic, yet most mild—calm, yet compassionate. + +58. +Wonder and joy a passing faintness threw _640 +Over my brow—a hand supported me, +Whose touch was magic strength; an eye of blue +Looked into mine, like moonlight, soothingly; +And a voice said:—‘Thou must a listener be +This day—two mighty Spirits now return, _645 +Like birds of calm, from the world’s raging sea, +They pour fresh light from Hope’s immortal urn; +A tale of human power—despair not—list and learn! + +59. +I looked, and lo! one stood forth eloquently. +His eyes were dark and deep, and the clear brow _650 +Which shadowed them was like the morning sky, +The cloudless Heaven of Spring, when in their flow +Through the bright air, the soft winds as they blow +Wake the green world—his gestures did obey +The oracular mind that made his features glow, _655 +And where his curved lips half-open lay, +Passion’s divinest stream had made impetuous way. + +60. +Beneath the darkness of his outspread hair +He stood thus beautiful; but there was One +Who sate beside him like his shadow there, _660 +And held his hand—far lovelier; she was known +To be thus fair, by the few lines alone +Which through her floating locks and gathered cloak, +Glances of soul-dissolving glory, shone:— +None else beheld her eyes—in him they woke _665 +Memories which found a tongue as thus he silence broke. + + +CANTO 2. + +1. +The starlight smile of children, the sweet looks +Of women, the fair breast from which I fed, +The murmur of the unreposing brooks, +And the green light which, shifting overhead, _670 +Some tangled bower of vines around me shed, +The shells on the sea-sand, and the wild flowers, +The lamp-light through the rafters cheerly spread, +And on the twining flax—in life’s young hours +These sights and sounds did nurse my spirit’s folded powers. _675 + +2. +In Argolis, beside the echoing sea, +Such impulses within my mortal frame +Arose, and they were dear to memory, +Like tokens of the dead:—but others came +Soon, in another shape: the wondrous fame _680 +Of the past world, the vital words and deeds +Of minds whom neither time nor change can tame, +Traditions dark and old, whence evil creeds +Start forth, and whose dim shade a stream of poison feeds. + +3. +I heard, as all have heard, the various story _685 +Of human life, and wept unwilling tears. +Feeble historians of its shame and glory, +False disputants on all its hopes and fears, +Victims who worshipped ruin, chroniclers +Of daily scorn, and slaves who loathed their state _690 +Yet, flattering power, had given its ministers +A throne of judgement in the grave:—’twas fate, +That among such as these my youth should seek its mate. + +4. +The land in which I lived, by a fell bane +Was withered up. Tyrants dwelt side by side, _695 +And stabled in our homes,—until the chain +Stifled the captive’s cry, and to abide +That blasting curse men had no shame—all vied +In evil, slave and despot; fear with lust +Strange fellowship through mutual hate had tied, _700 +Like two dark serpents tangled in the dust, +Which on the paths of men their mingling poison thrust. + +5. +Earth, our bright home, its mountains and its waters, +And the ethereal shapes which are suspended +Over its green expanse, and those fair daughters, _705 +The clouds, of Sun and Ocean, who have blended +The colours of the air since first extended +It cradled the young world, none wandered forth +To see or feel; a darkness had descended +On every heart; the light which shows its worth, _710 +Must among gentle thoughts and fearless take its birth. + +6. +This vital world, this home of happy spirits, +Was as a dungeon to my blasted kind; +All that despair from murdered hope inherits +They sought, and in their helpless misery blind, _715 +A deeper prison and heavier chains did find, +And stronger tyrants:—a dark gulf before, +The realm of a stern Ruler, yawned; behind, +Terror and Time conflicting drove, and bore +On their tempestuous flood the shrieking wretch from shore. _720 + +7. +Out of that Ocean’s wrecks had Guilt and Woe +Framed a dark dwelling for their homeless thought, +And, starting at the ghosts which to and fro +Glide o’er its dim and gloomy strand, had brought +The worship thence which they each other taught. _725 +Well might men loathe their life, well might they turn +Even to the ills again from which they sought +Such refuge after death!—well might they learn +To gaze on this fair world with hopeless unconcern! + +8. +For they all pined in bondage; body and soul, _730 +Tyrant and slave, victim and torturer, bent +Before one Power, to which supreme control +Over their will by their own weakness lent, +Made all its many names omnipotent; +All symbols of things evil, all divine; _735 +And hymns of blood or mockery, which rent +The air from all its fanes, did intertwine +Imposture’s impious toils round each discordant shrine. + +9. +I heard, as all have heard, life’s various story, +And in no careless heart transcribed the tale; _740 +But, from the sneers of men who had grown hoary +In shame and scorn, from groans of crowds made pale +By famine, from a mother’s desolate wail +O’er her polluted child, from innocent blood +Poured on the earth, and brows anxious and pale _745 +With the heart’s warfare, did I gather food +To feed my many thoughts—a tameless multitude! + +10. +I wandered through the wrecks of days departed +Far by the desolated shore, when even +O’er the still sea and jagged islets darted _750 +The light of moonrise; in the northern Heaven, +Among the clouds near the horizon driven, +The mountains lay beneath one planet pale; +Around me, broken tombs and columns riven +Looked vast in twilight, and the sorrowing gale _755 +Waked in those ruins gray its everlasting wail! + +11. +I knew not who had framed these wonders then, +Nor had I heard the story of their deeds; +But dwellings of a race of mightier men, +And monuments of less ungentle creeds _760 +Tell their own tale to him who wisely heeds +The language which they speak; and now, to me +The moonlight making pale the blooming weeds, +The bright stars shining in the breathless sea, +Interpreted those scrolls of mortal mystery. _765 + +12. +Such man has been, and such may yet become! +Ay, wiser, greater, gentler even than they +Who on the fragments of yon shattered dome +Have stamped the sign of power—I felt the sway +Of the vast stream of ages bear away _770 +My floating thoughts—my heart beat loud and fast— +Even as a storm let loose beneath the ray +Of the still moon, my spirit onward passed +Beneath truth’s steady beams upon its tumult cast. + +13. +It shall be thus no more! too long, too long, _775 +Sons of the glorious dead, have ye lain bound +In darkness and in ruin!—Hope is strong, +Justice and Truth their winged child have found— +Awake! arise! until the mighty sound +Of your career shall scatter in its gust _780 +The thrones of the oppressor, and the ground +Hide the last altar’s unregarded dust, +Whose Idol has so long betrayed your impious trust! + +14. +It must be so—I will arise and waken +The multitude, and like a sulphurous hill, _785 +Which on a sudden from its snows has shaken +The swoon of ages, it shall burst and fill +The world with cleansing fire; it must, it will— +It may not be restrained!—and who shall stand +Amid the rocking earthquake steadfast still, _790 +But Laon? on high Freedom’s desert land +A tower whose marble walls the leagued storms withstand! + +15. +One summer night, in commune with the hope +Thus deeply fed, amid those ruins gray +I watched, beneath the dark sky’s starry cope; _795 +And ever from that hour upon me lay +The burden of this hope, and night or day, +In vision or in dream, clove to my breast: +Among mankind, or when gone far away +To the lone shores and mountains, ’twas a guest _800 +Which followed where I fled, and watched when I did rest. + +16. +These hopes found words through which my spirit sought +To weave a bondage of such sympathy, +As might create some response to the thought +Which ruled me now—and as the vapours lie _805 +Bright in the outspread morning’s radiancy, +So were these thoughts invested with the light +Of language: and all bosoms made reply +On which its lustre streamed, whene’er it might +Through darkness wide and deep those tranced spirits smite. _810 + +17. +Yes, many an eye with dizzy tears was dim, +And oft I thought to clasp my own heart’s brother, +When I could feel the listener’s senses swim, +And hear his breath its own swift gaspings smother +Even as my words evoked them—and another, _815 +And yet another, I did fondly deem, +Felt that we all were sons of one great mother; +And the cold truth such sad reverse did seem +As to awake in grief from some delightful dream. + +18. +Yes, oft beside the ruined labyrinth _820 +Which skirts the hoary caves of the green deep, +Did Laon and his friend, on one gray plinth, +Round whose worn base the wild waves hiss and leap, +Resting at eve, a lofty converse keep: +And that this friend was false, may now be said _825 +Calmly—that he like other men could weep +Tears which are lies, and could betray and spread +Snares for that guileless heart which for his own had bled. + +19. +Then, had no great aim recompensed my sorrow, +I must have sought dark respite from its stress _830 +In dreamless rest, in sleep that sees no morrow— +For to tread life’s dismaying wilderness +Without one smile to cheer, one voice to bless, +Amid the snares and scoffs of human kind, +Is hard—but I betrayed it not, nor less _835 +With love that scorned return sought to unbind +The interwoven clouds which make its wisdom blind. + +20. +With deathless minds which leave where they have passed +A path of light, my soul communion knew; +Till from that glorious intercourse, at last, _840 +As from a mine of magic store, I drew +Words which were weapons;—round my heart there grew +The adamantine armour of their power; +And from my fancy wings of golden hue +Sprang forth—yet not alone from wisdom’s tower, _845 +A minister of truth, these plumes young Laon bore. + +21. +An orphan with my parents lived, whose eyes +Were lodestars of delight, which drew me home +When I might wander forth; nor did I prize +Aught human thing beneath Heaven’s mighty dome _850 +Beyond this child; so when sad hours were come, +And baffled hope like ice still clung to me, +Since kin were cold, and friends had now become +Heartless and false, I turned from all, to be, +Cythna, the only source of tears and smiles to thee. _855 + +22. +What wert thou then? A child most infantine, +Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age +In all but its sweet looks and mien divine; +Even then, methought, with the world’s tyrant rage +A patient warfare thy young heart did wage, _860 +When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought +Some tale, or thine own fancies, would engage +To overflow with tears, or converse fraught +With passion, o’er their depths its fleeting light had wrought. + +23. +She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness, _865 +A power, that from its objects scarcely drew +One impulse of her being—in her lightness +Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew, +Which wanders through the waste air’s pathless blue, +To nourish some far desert; she did seem _870 +Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew, +Like the bright shade of some immortal dream +Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the wave of life’s dark stream. + +24. +As mine own shadow was this child to me, +A second self, far dearer and more fair; _875 +Which clothed in undissolving radiancy +All those steep paths which languor and despair +Of human things, had made so dark and bare, +But which I trod alone—nor, till bereft +Of friends, and overcome by lonely care, _880 +Knew I what solace for that loss was left, +Though by a bitter wound my trusting heart was cleft. + +25. +Once she was dear, now she was all I had +To love in human life—this playmate sweet, +This child of twelve years old—so she was made _885 +My sole associate, and her willing feet +Wandered with mine where earth and ocean meet, +Beyond the aereal mountains whose vast cells +The unreposing billows ever beat, +Through forests wild and old, and lawny dells _890 +Where boughs of incense droop over the emerald wells. + +26. +And warm and light I felt her clasping hand +When twined in mine; she followed where I went, +Through the lone paths of our immortal land. +It had no waste but some memorial lent _895 +Which strung me to my toil—some monument +Vital with mind; then Cythna by my side, +Until the bright and beaming day were spent, +Would rest, with looks entreating to abide, +Too earnest and too sweet ever to be denied. _900 + +27. +And soon I could not have refused her—thus +For ever, day and night, we two were ne’er +Parted, but when brief sleep divided us: +And when the pauses of the lulling air +Of noon beside the sea had made a lair _905 +For her soothed senses, in my arms she slept, +And I kept watch over her slumbers there, +While, as the shifting visions over her swept, +Amid her innocent rest by turns she smiled and wept. + +28. +And, in the murmur of her dreams was heard _910 +Sometimes the name of Laon:—suddenly +She would arise, and, like the secret bird +Whom sunset wakens, fill the shore and sky +With her sweet accents, a wild melody! +Hymns which my soul had woven to Freedom, strong _915 +The source of passion, whence they rose, to be; +Triumphant strains, which, like a spirit’s tongue, +To the enchanted waves that child of glory sung— + +29. +Her white arms lifted through the shadowy stream +Of her loose hair. Oh, excellently great _920 +Seemed to me then my purpose, the vast theme +Of those impassioned songs, when Cythna sate +Amid the calm which rapture doth create +After its tumult, her heart vibrating, +Her spirit o’er the Ocean’s floating state _925 +From her deep eyes far wandering, on the wing +Of visions that were mine, beyond its utmost spring! + +30. +For, before Cythna loved it, had my song +Peopled with thoughts the boundless universe, +A mighty congregation, which were strong _930 +Where’er they trod the darkness to disperse +The cloud of that unutterable curse +Which clings upon mankind:—all things became +Slaves to my holy and heroic verse, +Earth, sea and sky, the planets, life and fame _935 +And fate, or whate’er else binds the world’s wondrous frame. + +31. +And this beloved child thus felt the sway +Of my conceptions, gathering like a cloud +The very wind on which it rolls away: +Hers too were all my thoughts, ere yet, endowed _940 +With music and with light, their fountains flowed +In poesy; and her still and earnest face, +Pallid with feelings which intensely glowed +Within, was turned on mine with speechless grace, +Watching the hopes which there her heart had learned to trace. _945 + +32. +In me, communion with this purest being +Kindled intenser zeal, and made me wise +In knowledge, which, in hers mine own mind seeing, +Left in the human world few mysteries: +How without fear of evil or disguise _950 +Was Cythna!—what a spirit strong and mild, +Which death, or pain or peril could despise, +Yet melt in tenderness! what genius wild +Yet mighty, was enclosed within one simple child! + +33. +New lore was this—old age with its gray hair, _955 +And wrinkled legends of unworthy things, +And icy sneers, is nought: it cannot dare +To burst the chains which life for ever flings +On the entangled soul’s aspiring wings, +So is it cold and cruel, and is made _960 +The careless slave of that dark power which brings +Evil, like blight, on man, who, still betrayed, +Laughs o’er the grave in which his living hopes are laid. + +34. +Nor are the strong and the severe to keep +The empire of the world: thus Cythna taught _965 +Even in the visions of her eloquent sleep, +Unconscious of the power through which she wrought +The woof of such intelligible thought, +As from the tranquil strength which cradled lay +In her smile-peopled rest, my spirit sought _970 +Why the deceiver and the slave has sway +O’er heralds so divine of truth’s arising day. + +35. +Within that fairest form, the female mind, +Untainted by the poison clouds which rest +On the dark world, a sacred home did find: _975 +But else, from the wide earth’s maternal breast, +Victorious Evil, which had dispossessed +All native power, had those fair children torn, +And made them slaves to soothe his vile unrest, +And minister to lust its joys forlorn, _980 +Till they had learned to breathe the atmosphere of scorn. + +36. +This misery was but coldly felt, till she +Became my only friend, who had endued +My purpose with a wider sympathy; +Thus, Cythna mourned with me the servitude _985 +In which the half of humankind were mewed +Victims of lust and hate, the slaves of slaves, +She mourned that grace and power were thrown as food +To the hyena lust, who, among graves, +Over his loathed meal, laughing in agony, raves. _990 + +37. +And I, still gazing on that glorious child, +Even as these thoughts flushed o’er her:—‘Cythna sweet, +Well with the world art thou unreconciled; +Never will peace and human nature meet +Till free and equal man and woman greet _995 +Domestic peace; and ere this power can make +In human hearts its calm and holy seat, +This slavery must be broken’—as I spake, +From Cythna’s eyes a light of exultation brake. + +38. +She replied earnestly:—‘It shall be mine, _1000 +This task,—mine, Laon!—thou hast much to gain; +Nor wilt thou at poor Cythna’s pride repine, +If she should lead a happy female train +To meet thee over the rejoicing plain, +When myriads at thy call shall throng around _1005 +The Golden City.’—Then the child did strain +My arm upon her tremulous heart, and wound +Her own about my neck, till some reply she found. + +39. +I smiled, and spake not.—‘Wherefore dost thou smile +At what I say? Laon, I am not weak, _1010 +And, though my cheek might become pale the while, +With thee, if thou desirest, will I seek +Through their array of banded slaves to wreak +Ruin upon the tyrants. I had thought +It was more hard to turn my unpractised cheek _1015 +To scorn and shame, and this beloved spot +And thee, O dearest friend, to leave and murmur not. + +40. +‘Whence came I what I am? Thou, Laon, knowest +How a young child should thus undaunted be; +Methinks, it is a power which thou bestowest, _1020 +Through which I seek, by most resembling thee, +So to become most good and great and free; +Yet far beyond this Ocean’s utmost roar, +In towers and huts are many like to me, +Who, could they see thine eyes, or feel such lore _1025 +As I have learnt from them, like me would fear no more. + +41. +‘Think’st thou that I shall speak unskilfully, +And none will heed me? I remember now, +How once, a slave in tortures doomed to die, +Was saved, because in accents sweet and low _1030 +He sung a song his Judge loved long ago, +As he was led to death.—All shall relent +Who hear me—tears, as mine have flowed, shall flow, +Hearts beat as mine now beats, with such intent +As renovates the world; a will omnipotent! _1035 + +42. +‘Yes, I will tread Pride’s golden palaces, +Through Penury’s roofless huts and squalid cells +Will I descend, where’er in abjectness +Woman with some vile slave her tyrant dwells, +There with the music of thine own sweet spells _1040 +Will disenchant the captives, and will pour +For the despairing, from the crystal wells +Of thy deep spirit, reason’s mighty lore, +And power shall then abound, and hope arise once more. + +43. +‘Can man be free if woman be a slave? _1045 +Chain one who lives, and breathes this boundless air, +To the corruption of a closed grave! +Can they whose mates are beasts, condemned to bear +Scorn, heavier far than toil or anguish, dare +To trample their oppressors? in their home _1050 +Among their babes, thou knowest a curse would wear +The shape of woman—hoary Crime would come +Behind, and Fraud rebuild religion’s tottering dome. + +44. +‘I am a child:—I would not yet depart. +When I go forth alone, bearing the lamp _1055 +Aloft which thou hast kindled in my heart, +Millions of slaves from many a dungeon damp +Shall leap in joy, as the benumbing cramp +Of ages leaves their limbs—no ill may harm +Thy Cythna ever—truth its radiant stamp _1060 +Has fixed, as an invulnerable charm, +Upon her children’s brow, dark Falsehood to disarm. + +45. +‘Wait yet awhile for the appointed day— +Thou wilt depart, and I with tears shall stand +Watching thy dim sail skirt the ocean gray; _1065 +Amid the dwellers of this lonely land +I shall remain alone—and thy command +Shall then dissolve the world’s unquiet trance, +And, multitudinous as the desert sand +Borne on the storm, its millions shall advance, _1070 +Thronging round thee, the light of their deliverance. + +46. +‘Then, like the forests of some pathless mountain, +Which from remotest glens two warring winds +Involve in fire which not the loosened fountain +Of broadest floods might quench, shall all the kinds _1075 +Of evil, catch from our uniting minds +The spark which must consume them;—Cythna then +Will have cast off the impotence that binds +Her childhood now, and through the paths of men +Will pass, as the charmed bird that haunts the serpent’s den. _1080 + +47. +‘We part!—O Laon, I must dare nor tremble, +To meet those looks no more!—Oh, heavy stroke! +Sweet brother of my soul! can I dissemble +The agony of this thought?’—As thus she spoke +The gathered sobs her quivering accents broke, _1085 +And in my arms she hid her beating breast. +I remained still for tears—sudden she woke +As one awakes from sleep, and wildly pressed +My bosom, her whole frame impetuously possessed. + +48. +‘We part to meet again—but yon blue waste, _1090 +Yon desert wide and deep, holds no recess, +Within whose happy silence, thus embraced +We might survive all ills in one caress: +Nor doth the grave—I fear ’tis passionless— +Nor yon cold vacant Heaven:—we meet again _1095 +Within the minds of men, whose lips shall bless +Our memory, and whose hopes its light retain +When these dissevered bones are trodden in the plain.’ + +49. +I could not speak, though she had ceased, for now +The fountains of her feeling, swift and deep, _1100 +Seemed to suspend the tumult of their flow; +So we arose, and by the starlight steep +Went homeward—neither did we speak nor weep, +But, pale, were calm with passion—thus subdued +Like evening shades that o’er the mountains creep, _1105 +We moved towards our home; where, in this mood, +Each from the other sought refuge in solitude. + + +CANTO 3. + +1. +What thoughts had sway o’er Cythna’s lonely slumber +That night, I know not; but my own did seem +As if they might ten thousand years outnumber _1110 +Of waking life, the visions of a dream +Which hid in one dim gulf the troubled stream +Of mind; a boundless chaos wild and vast, +Whose limits yet were never memory’s theme: +And I lay struggling as its whirlwinds passed, _1115 +Sometimes for rapture sick, sometimes for pain aghast. + +2. +Two hours, whose mighty circle did embrace +More time than might make gray the infant world, +Rolled thus, a weary and tumultuous space: +When the third came, like mist on breezes curled, _1120 +From my dim sleep a shadow was unfurled: +Methought, upon the threshold of a cave +I sate with Cythna; drooping briony, pearled +With dew from the wild streamlet’s shattered wave, +Hung, where we sate to taste the joys which Nature gave. _1125 + +3. +We lived a day as we were wont to live, +But Nature had a robe of glory on, +And the bright air o’er every shape did weave +Intenser hues, so that the herbless stone, +The leafless bough among the leaves alone, _1130 +Had being clearer than its own could be, +And Cythna’s pure and radiant self was shown, +In this strange vision, so divine to me, +That if I loved before, now love was agony. + +4. +Morn fled, noon came, evening, then night descended, _1135 +And we prolonged calm talk beneath the sphere +Of the calm moon—when suddenly was blended +With our repose a nameless sense of fear; +And from the cave behind I seemed to hear +Sounds gathering upwards!—accents incomplete, _1140 +And stifled shrieks,—and now, more near and near, +A tumult and a rush of thronging feet +The cavern’s secret depths beneath the earth did beat. + +5. +The scene was changed, and away, away, away! +Through the air and over the sea we sped, _1145 +And Cythna in my sheltering bosom lay, +And the winds bore me—through the darkness spread +Around, the gaping earth then vomited +Legions of foul and ghastly shapes, which hung +Upon my flight; and ever, as we fled, _1150 +They plucked at Cythna—soon to me then clung +A sense of actual things those monstrous dreams among. + +6. +And I lay struggling in the impotence +Of sleep, while outward life had burst its bound, +Though, still deluded, strove the tortured sense _1155 +To its dire wanderings to adapt the sound +Which in the light of morn was poured around +Our dwelling; breathless, pale and unaware +I rose, and all the cottage crowded found +With armed men, whose glittering swords were bare, _1160 +And whose degraded limbs the tyrant’s garb did wear. + +7. +And, ere with rapid lips and gathered brow +I could demand the cause—a feeble shriek— +It was a feeble shriek, faint, far and low, +Arrested me—my mien grew calm and meek, _1165 +And grasping a small knife, I went to seek +That voice among the crowd—’twas Cythna’s cry! +Beneath most calm resolve did agony wreak +Its whirlwind rage:—so I passed quietly +Till I beheld, where bound, that dearest child did lie. _1170 + +8. +I started to behold her, for delight +And exultation, and a joyance free, +Solemn, serene and lofty, filled the light +Of the calm smile with which she looked on me: +So that I feared some brainless ecstasy, _1175 +Wrought from that bitter woe, had wildered her— +‘Farewell! farewell!’ she said, as I drew nigh; +‘At first my peace was marred by this strange stir, +Now I am calm as truth—its chosen minister. + +9. +‘Look not so, Laon—say farewell in hope, _1180 +These bloody men are but the slaves who bear +Their mistress to her task—it was my scope +The slavery where they drag me now, to share, +And among captives willing chains to wear +Awhile—the rest thou knowest—return, dear friend! _1185 +Let our first triumph trample the despair +Which would ensnare us now, for in the end, +In victory or in death our hopes and fears must blend.’ + +10. +These words had fallen on my unheeding ear, +Whilst I had watched the motions of the crew _1190 +With seeming-careless glance; not many were +Around her, for their comrades just withdrew +To guard some other victim—so I drew +My knife, and with one impulse, suddenly +All unaware three of their number slew, _1195 +And grasped a fourth by the throat, and with loud cry +My countrymen invoked to death or liberty! + +11. +What followed then, I know not—for a stroke +On my raised arm and naked head, came down, +Filling my eyes with blood.—When I awoke, _1200 +I felt that they had bound me in my swoon, +And up a rock which overhangs the town, +By the steep path were bearing me; below, +The plain was filled with slaughter,—overthrown +The vineyards and the harvests, and the glow _1205 +Of blazing roofs shone far o’er the white Ocean’s flow. + +12. +Upon that rock a mighty column stood, +Whose capital seemed sculptured in the sky, +Which to the wanderers o’er the solitude +Of distant seas, from ages long gone by, _1210 +Had made a landmark; o’er its height to fly +Scarcely the cloud, the vulture, or the blast, +Has power—and when the shades of evening lie +On Earth and Ocean, its carved summits cast +The sunken daylight far through the aerial waste. _1215 + +13. +They bore me to a cavern in the hill +Beneath that column, and unbound me there; +And one did strip me stark; and one did fill +A vessel from the putrid pool; one bare +A lighted torch, and four with friendless care _1220 +Guided my steps the cavern-paths along, +Then up a steep and dark and narrow stair +We wound, until the torch’s fiery tongue +Amid the gushing day beamless and pallid hung. + +14. +They raised me to the platform of the pile, _1225 +That column’s dizzy height:—the grate of brass +Through which they thrust me, open stood the while, +As to its ponderous and suspended mass, +With chains which eat into the flesh, alas! +With brazen links, my naked limbs they bound: _1230 +The grate, as they departed to repass, +With horrid clangour fell, and the far sound +Of their retiring steps in the dense gloom was drowned. + +15. +The noon was calm and bright:—around that column +The overhanging sky and circling sea _1235 +Spread forth in silentness profound and solemn +The darkness of brief frenzy cast on me, +So that I knew not my own misery: +The islands and the mountains in the day +Like clouds reposed afar; and I could see _1240 +The town among the woods below that lay, +And the dark rocks which bound the bright and glassy bay. + +16. +It was so calm, that scarce the feathery weed +Sown by some eagle on the topmost stone +Swayed in the air:—so bright, that noon did breed _1245 +No shadow in the sky beside mine own— +Mine, and the shadow of my chain alone. +Below, the smoke of roofs involved in flame +Rested like night, all else was clearly shown +In that broad glare; yet sound to me none came, _1250 +But of the living blood that ran within my frame. + +17. +The peace of madness fled, and ah, too soon! +A ship was lying on the sunny main, +Its sails were flagging in the breathless noon— +Its shadow lay beyond—that sight again _1255 +Waked, with its presence, in my tranced brain +The stings of a known sorrow, keen and cold: +I knew that ship bore Cythna o’er the plain +Of waters, to her blighting slavery sold, +And watched it with such thoughts as must remain untold. _1260 + +18. +I watched until the shades of evening wrapped +Earth like an exhalation—then the bark +Moved, for that calm was by the sunset snapped. +It moved a speck upon the Ocean dark: +Soon the wan stars came forth, and I could mark _1265 +Its path no more!—I sought to close mine eyes, +But like the balls, their lids were stiff and stark; +I would have risen, but ere that I could rise, +My parched skin was split with piercing agonies. + +19. +I gnawed my brazen chain, and sought to sever _1270 +Its adamantine links, that I might die: +O Liberty! forgive the base endeavour, +Forgive me, if, reserved for victory, +The Champion of thy faith e’er sought to fly.— +That starry night, with its clear silence, sent _1275 +Tameless resolve which laughed at misery +Into my soul—linked remembrance lent +To that such power, to me such a severe content. + +20. +To breathe, to be, to hope, or to despair +And die, I questioned not; nor, though the Sun _1280 +Its shafts of agony kindling through the air +Moved over me, nor though in evening dun, +Or when the stars their visible courses run, +Or morning, the wide universe was spread +In dreary calmness round me, did I shun _1285 +Its presence, nor seek refuge with the dead +From one faint hope whose flower a dropping poison shed. + +21. +Two days thus passed—I neither raved nor died— +Thirst raged within me, like a scorpion’s nest +Built in mine entrails; I had spurned aside _1290 +The water-vessel, while despair possessed +My thoughts, and now no drop remained! The uprest +Of the third sun brought hunger—but the crust +Which had been left, was to my craving breast +Fuel, not food. I chewed the bitter dust, _1295 +And bit my bloodless arm, and licked the brazen rust. + +22. +My brain began to fail when the fourth morn +Burst o’er the golden isles—a fearful sleep, +Which through the caverns dreary and forlorn +Of the riven soul, sent its foul dreams to sweep _1300 +With whirlwind swiftness—a fall far and deep,— +A gulf, a void, a sense of senselessness— +These things dwelt in me, even as shadows keep +Their watch in some dim charnel’s loneliness, +A shoreless sea, a sky sunless and planetless! _1305 + +23. +The forms which peopled this terrific trance +I well remember—like a choir of devils, +Around me they involved a giddy dance; +Legions seemed gathering from the misty levels +Of Ocean, to supply those ceaseless revels, _1310 +Foul, ceaseless shadows:—thought could not divide +The actual world from these entangling evils, +Which so bemocked themselves, that I descried +All shapes like mine own self, hideously multiplied. + +24. +The sense of day and night, of false and true, _1315 +Was dead within me. Yet two visions burst +That darkness—one, as since that hour I knew, +Was not a phantom of the realms accursed, +Where then my spirit dwelt—but of the first +I know not yet, was it a dream or no. _1320 +But both, though not distincter, were immersed +In hues which, when through memory’s waste they flow, +Make their divided streams more bright and rapid now. + +25. +Methought that grate was lifted, and the seven +Who brought me thither four stiff corpses bare, _1325 +And from the frieze to the four winds of Heaven +Hung them on high by the entangled hair; +Swarthy were three—the fourth was very fair; +As they retired, the golden moon upsprung, +And eagerly, out in the giddy air, _1330 +Leaning that I might eat, I stretched and clung +Over the shapeless depth in which those corpses hung. + +26. +A woman’s shape, now lank and cold and blue, +The dwelling of the many-coloured worm, +Hung there; the white and hollow cheek I drew _1335 +To my dry lips—what radiance did inform +Those horny eyes? whose was that withered form? +Alas, alas! it seemed that Cythna’s ghost +Laughed in those looks, and that the flesh was warm +Within my teeth!—a whirlwind keen as frost _1340 +Then in its sinking gulfs my sickening spirit tossed. + +27. +Then seemed it that a tameless hurricane +Arose, and bore me in its dark career +Beyond the sun, beyond the stars that wane +On the verge of formless space—it languished there, _1345 +And dying, left a silence lone and drear, +More horrible than famine:—in the deep +The shape of an old man did then appear, +Stately and beautiful; that dreadful sleep +His heavenly smiles dispersed, and I could wake and weep. _1350 + +28. +And, when the blinding tears had fallen, I saw +That column, and those corpses, and the moon, +And felt the poisonous tooth of hunger gnaw +My vitals, I rejoiced, as if the boon +Of senseless death would be accorded soon;— _1355 +When from that stony gloom a voice arose, +Solemn and sweet as when low winds attune +The midnight pines; the grate did then unclose, +And on that reverend form the moonlight did repose. + +29. +He struck my chains, and gently spake and smiled; _1360 +As they were loosened by that Hermit old, +Mine eyes were of their madness half beguiled, +To answer those kind looks; he did enfold +His giant arms around me, to uphold +My wretched frame; my scorched limbs he wound _1365 +In linen moist and balmy, and as cold +As dew to drooping leaves;—the chain, with sound +Like earthquake, through the chasm of that steep stair did bound, + +30. +As, lifting me, it fell!—What next I heard, +Were billows leaping on the harbour-bar, _1370 +And the shrill sea-wind, whose breath idly stirred +My hair;—I looked abroad, and saw a star +Shining beside a sail, and distant far +That mountain and its column, the known mark +Of those who in the wide deep wandering are, _1375 +So that I feared some Spirit, fell and dark, +In trance had lain me thus within a fiendish bark. + +31. +For now indeed, over the salt sea-billow +I sailed: yet dared not look upon the shape +Of him who ruled the helm, although the pillow _1380 +For my light head was hollowed in his lap, +And my bare limbs his mantle did enwrap, +Fearing it was a fiend: at last, he bent +O’er me his aged face; as if to snap +Those dreadful thoughts the gentle grandsire bent, _1385 +And to my inmost soul his soothing looks he sent. + +32. +A soft and healing potion to my lips +At intervals he raised—now looked on high, +To mark if yet the starry giant dips +His zone in the dim sea—now cheeringly, _1390 +Though he said little, did he speak to me. +‘It is a friend beside thee—take good cheer, +Poor victim, thou art now at liberty!’ +I joyed as those a human tone to hear, +Who in cells deep and lone have languished many a year. _1395 + +33. +A dim and feeble joy, whose glimpses oft +Were quenched in a relapse of wildering dreams; +Yet still methought we sailed, until aloft +The stars of night grew pallid, and the beams +Of morn descended on the ocean-streams, _1400 +And still that aged man, so grand and mild, +Tended me, even as some sick mother seems +To hang in hope over a dying child, +Till in the azure East darkness again was piled. + +34. +And then the night-wind steaming from the shore, _1405 +Sent odours dying sweet across the sea, +And the swift boat the little waves which bore, +Were cut by its keen keel, though slantingly; +Soon I could hear the leaves sigh, and could see +The myrtle-blossoms starring the dim grove, _1410 +As past the pebbly beach the boat did flee +On sidelong wing, into a silent cove, +Where ebon pines a shade under the starlight wove. + + +NOTES: +_1223 torches’ editions 1818, 1839. +_1385 bent]meant cj. J. Nettleship. + + +CANTO 4. + +1. +The old man took the oars, and soon the bark +Smote on the beach beside a tower of stone; _1415 +It was a crumbling heap, whose portal dark +With blooming ivy-trails was overgrown; +Upon whose floor the spangling sands were strown, +And rarest sea-shells, which the eternal flood, +Slave to the mother of the months, had thrown _1420 +Within the walls of that gray tower, which stood +A changeling of man’s art nursed amid Nature’s brood. + +2. +When the old man his boat had anchored, +He wound me in his arms with tender care, +And very few, but kindly words he said, _1425 +And bore me through the tower adown a stair, +Whose smooth descent some ceaseless step to wear +For many a year had fallen.—We came at last +To a small chamber, which with mosses rare +Was tapestried, where me his soft hands placed _1430 +Upon a couch of grass and oak-leaves interlaced. + +3. +The moon was darting through the lattices +Its yellow light, warm as the beams of day— +So warm, that to admit the dewy breeze, +The old man opened them; the moonlight lay _1435 +Upon a lake whose waters wove their play +Even to the threshold of that lonely home: +Within was seen in the dim wavering ray +The antique sculptured roof, and many a tome +Whose lore had made that sage all that he had become. _1440 + +4. +The rock-built barrier of the sea was past,— +And I was on the margin of a lake, +A lonely lake, amid the forests vast +And snowy mountains:—did my spirit wake +From sleep as many-coloured as the snake _1445 +That girds eternity? in life and truth, +Might not my heart its cravings ever slake? +Was Cythna then a dream, and all my youth, +And all its hopes and fears, and all its joy and ruth? + +5. +Thus madness came again,—a milder madness, _1450 +Which darkened nought but time’s unquiet flow +With supernatural shades of clinging sadness; +That gentle Hermit, in my helpless woe, +By my sick couch was busy to and fro, +Like a strong spirit ministrant of good: _1455 +When I was healed, he led me forth to show +The wonders of his sylvan solitude, +And we together sate by that isle-fretted flood. + +6. +He knew his soothing words to weave with skill +From all my madness told; like mine own heart, _1460 +Of Cythna would he question me, until +That thrilling name had ceased to make me start, +From his familiar lips—it was not art, +Of wisdom and of justice when he spoke— +When mid soft looks of pity, there would dart _1465 +A glance as keen as is the lightning’s stroke +When it doth rive the knots of some ancestral oak. + +7. +Thus slowly from my brain the darkness rolled, +My thoughts their due array did re-assume +Through the enchantments of that Hermit old; _1470 +Then I bethought me of the glorious doom +Of those who sternly struggle to relume +The lamp of Hope o’er man’s bewildered lot, +And, sitting by the waters, in the gloom +Of eve, to that friend’s heart I told my thought— _1475 +That heart which had grown old, but had corrupted not. + +8. +That hoary man had spent his livelong age +In converse with the dead, who leave the stamp +Of ever-burning thoughts on many a page, +When they are gone into the senseless damp _1480 +Of graves;—his spirit thus became a lamp +Of splendour, like to those on which it fed; +Through peopled haunts, the City and the Camp, +Deep thirst for knowledge had his footsteps led, +And all the ways of men among mankind he read. _1485 + +9. +But custom maketh blind and obdurate +The loftiest hearts;—he had beheld the woe +In which mankind was bound, but deemed that fate +Which made them abject, would preserve them so; +And in such faith, some steadfast joy to know, _1490 +He sought this cell: but when fame went abroad +That one in Argolis did undergo +Torture for liberty, and that the crowd +High truths from gifted lips had heard and understood; + +10. +And that the multitude was gathering wide,— _1495 +His spirit leaped within his aged frame; +In lonely peace he could no more abide, +But to the land on which the victor’s flame +Had fed, my native land, the Hermit came: +Each heart was there a shield, and every tongue _1500 +Was as a sword of truth—young Laon’s name +Rallied their secret hopes, though tyrants sung +Hymns of triumphant joy our scattered tribes among. + +11. +He came to the lone column on the rock, +And with his sweet and mighty eloquence _1505 +The hearts of those who watched it did unlock, +And made them melt in tears of penitence. +They gave him entrance free to bear me thence. +‘Since this,’ the old man said, ‘seven years are spent, +While slowly truth on thy benighted sense _1510 +Has crept; the hope which wildered it has lent +Meanwhile, to me the power of a sublime intent. + +12. +‘Yes, from the records of my youthful state, +And from the lore of bards and sages old, +From whatsoe’er my wakened thoughts create _1515 +Out of the hopes of thine aspirings bold, +Have I collected language to unfold +Truth to my countrymen; from shore to shore +Doctrines of human power my words have told, +They have been heard, and men aspire to more _1520 +Than they have ever gained or ever lost of yore. + +13. +‘In secret chambers parents read, and weep, +My writings to their babes, no longer blind; +And young men gather when their tyrants sleep, +And vows of faith each to the other bind; _1525 +And marriageable maidens, who have pined +With love, till life seemed melting through their look, +A warmer zeal, a nobler hope, now find; +And every bosom thus is rapt and shook, +Like autumn’s myriad leaves in one swoln mountain-brook. _1530 + +14. +‘The tyrants of the Golden City tremble +At voices which are heard about the streets; +The ministers of fraud can scarce dissemble +The lies of their own heart, but when one meets +Another at the shrine, he inly weets, _1535 +Though he says nothing, that the truth is known; +Murderers are pale upon the judgement-seats, +And gold grows vile even to the wealthy crone, +And laughter fills the Fane, and curses shake the Throne. + +15. +‘Kind thoughts, and mighty hopes, and gentle deeds _1540 +Abound, for fearless love, and the pure law +Of mild equality and peace, succeeds +To faiths which long have held the world in awe, +Bloody and false, and cold:—as whirlpools draw +All wrecks of Ocean to their chasm, the sway _1545 +Of thy strong genius, Laon, which foresaw +This hope, compels all spirits to obey, +Which round thy secret strength now throng in wide array. + +16. +‘For I have been thy passive instrument’— +(As thus the old man spake, his countenance _1550 +Gleamed on me like a spirit’s)—‘thou hast lent +To me, to all, the power to advance +Towards this unforeseen deliverance +From our ancestral chains—ay, thou didst rear +That lamp of hope on high, which time nor chance _1555 +Nor change may not extinguish, and my share +Of good, was o’er the world its gathered beams to bear. + +17. +‘But I, alas! am both unknown and old, +And though the woof of wisdom I know well +To dye in hues of language, I am cold _1560 +In seeming, and the hopes which inly dwell, +My manners note that I did long repel; +But Laon’s name to the tumultuous throng +Were like the star whose beams the waves compel +And tempests, and his soul-subduing tongue _1565 +Were as a lance to quell the mailed crest of wrong. + +18. +‘Perchance blood need not flow, if thou at length +Wouldst rise, perchance the very slaves would spare +Their brethren and themselves; great is the strength +Of words—for lately did a maiden fair, _1570 +Who from her childhood has been taught to bear +The Tyrant’s heaviest yoke, arise, and make +Her sex the law of truth and freedom hear, +And with these quiet words—“for thine own sake +I prithee spare me;”—did with ruth so take _1575 + +19. +‘All hearts, that even the torturer who had bound +Her meek calm frame, ere it was yet impaled, +Loosened her, weeping then; nor could be found +One human hand to harm her—unassailed +Therefore she walks through the great City, veiled _1580 +In virtue’s adamantine eloquence, +’Gainst scorn, and death and pain thus trebly mailed, +And blending, in the smiles of that defence, +The Serpent and the Dove, Wisdom and Innocence. + +20. +‘The wild-eyed women throng around her path: _1585 +From their luxurious dungeons, from the dust +Of meaner thralls, from the oppressor’s wrath, +Or the caresses of his sated lust +They congregate:—in her they put their trust; +The tyrants send their armed slaves to quell _1590 +Her power;—they, even like a thunder-gust +Caught by some forest, bend beneath the spell +Of that young maiden’s speech, and to their chiefs rebel. + +21. +‘Thus she doth equal laws and justice teach +To woman, outraged and polluted long; _1595 +Gathering the sweetest fruit in human reach +For those fair hands now free, while armed wrong +Trembles before her look, though it be strong; +Thousands thus dwell beside her, virgins bright, +And matrons with their babes, a stately throng! _1600 +Lovers renew the vows which they did plight +In early faith, and hearts long parted now unite, + +22. +‘And homeless orphans find a home near her, +And those poor victims of the proud, no less, +Fair wrecks, on whom the smiling world with stir, _1605 +Thrusts the redemption of its wickedness:— +In squalid huts, and in its palaces +Sits Lust alone, while o’er the land is borne +Her voice, whose awful sweetness doth repress +All evil, and her foes relenting turn, _1610 +And cast the vote of love in hope’s abandoned urn. + +23. +‘So in the populous City, a young maiden +Has baffled Havoc of the prey which he +Marks as his own, whene’er with chains o’erladen +Men make them arms to hurl down tyranny,— _1615 +False arbiter between the bound and free; +And o’er the land, in hamlets and in towns +The multitudes collect tumultuously, +And throng in arms; but tyranny disowns +Their claim, and gathers strength around its trembling thrones. _1620 + +24. +‘Blood soon, although unwillingly, to shed +The free cannot forbear—the Queen of Slaves, +The hoodwinked Angel of the blind and dead, +Custom, with iron mace points to the graves +Where her own standard desolately waves _1625 +Over the dust of Prophets and of Kings. +Many yet stand in her array—“she paves +Her path with human hearts,” and o’er it flings +The wildering gloom of her immeasurable wings. + +25. +‘There is a plain beneath the City’s wall, _1630 +Bounded by misty mountains, wide and vast, +Millions there lift at Freedom’s thrilling call +Ten thousand standards wide, they load the blast +Which bears one sound of many voices past, +And startles on his throne their sceptred foe: _1635 +He sits amid his idle pomp aghast, +And that his power hath passed away, doth know— +Why pause the victor swords to seal his overthrow? + +26. +‘The tyrant’s guards resistance yet maintain: +Fearless, and fierce, and hard as beasts of blood, _1640 +They stand a speck amid the peopled plain; +Carnage and ruin have been made their food +From infancy—ill has become their good, +And for its hateful sake their will has wove +The chains which eat their hearts. The multitude _1645 +Surrounding them, with words of human love, +Seek from their own decay their stubborn minds to move. + +27. +‘Over the land is felt a sudden pause, +As night and day those ruthless bands around, +The watch of love is kept:—a trance which awes _1650 +The thoughts of men with hope; as when the sound +Of whirlwind, whose fierce blasts the waves and clouds confound, +Dies suddenly, the mariner in fear +Feels silence sink upon his heart—thus bound, +The conquerors pause, and oh! may freemen ne’er _1655 +Clasp the relentless knees of Dread, the murderer! + +28. +‘If blood be shed, ’tis but a change and choice +Of bonds,—from slavery to cowardice +A wretched fall!—Uplift thy charmed voice! +Pour on those evil men the love that lies _1660 +Hovering within those spirit-soothing eyes— +Arise, my friend, farewell!’—As thus he spake, +From the green earth lightly I did arise, +As one out of dim dreams that doth awake, +And looked upon the depth of that reposing lake. _1665 + +29. +I saw my countenance reflected there;— +And then my youth fell on me like a wind +Descending on still waters—my thin hair +Was prematurely gray, my face was lined +With channels, such as suffering leaves behind, _1670 +Not age; my brow was pale, but in my cheek +And lips a flush of gnawing fire did find +Their food and dwelling; though mine eyes might speak +A subtle mind and strong within a frame thus weak. + +30. +And though their lustre now was spent and faded, _1675 +Yet in my hollow looks and withered mien +The likeness of a shape for which was braided +The brightest woof of genius, still was seen— +One who, methought, had gone from the world’s scene, +And left it vacant—’twas her lover’s face— _1680 +It might resemble her—it once had been +The mirror of her thoughts, and still the grace +Which her mind’s shadow cast, left there a lingering trace. + +31. +What then was I? She slumbered with the dead. +Glory and joy and peace, had come and gone. _1685 +Doth the cloud perish, when the beams are fled +Which steeped its skirts in gold? or, dark and lone, +Doth it not through the paths of night unknown, +On outspread wings of its own wind upborne +Pour rain upon the earth? The stars are shown, _1690 +When the cold moon sharpens her silver horn +Under the sea, and make the wide night not forlorn. + +32. +Strengthened in heart, yet sad, that aged man +I left, with interchange of looks and tears, +And lingering speech, and to the Camp began _1695 +My war. O’er many a mountain-chain which rears +Its hundred crests aloft, my spirit bears +My frame; o’er many a dale and many a moor, +And gaily now meseems serene earth wears +The blosmy spring’s star-bright investiture, _1700 +A vision which aught sad from sadness might allure. + +33. +My powers revived within me, and I went, +As one whom winds waft o’er the bending grass, +Through many a vale of that broad continent. +At night when I reposed, fair dreams did pass _1705 +Before my pillow;—my own Cythna was, +Not like a child of death, among them ever; +When I arose from rest, a woful mass +That gentlest sleep seemed from my life to sever, +As if the light of youth were not withdrawn for ever. _1710 + +34. +Aye as I went, that maiden who had reared +The torch of Truth afar, of whose high deeds +The Hermit in his pilgrimage had heard, +Haunted my thoughts.—Ah, Hope its sickness feeds +With whatsoe’er it finds, or flowers or weeds! _1715 +Could she be Cythna?—Was that corpse a shade +Such as self-torturing thought from madness breeds? +Why was this hope not torture? Yet it made +A light around my steps which would not ever fade. + + +NOTES: +_1625 Where]When edition 1818. + + +CANTO 5. + +1. +Over the utmost hill at length I sped, _1720 +A snowy steep:—the moon was hanging low +Over the Asian mountains, and outspread +The plain, the City, and the Camp below, +Skirted the midnight Ocean’s glimmering flow; +The City’s moonlit spires and myriad lamps, _1725 +Like stars in a sublunar sky did glow, +And fires blazed far amid the scattered camps, +Like springs of flame, which burst where’er swift Earthquake stamps. + +2. +All slept but those in watchful arms who stood, +And those who sate tending the beacon’s light, _1730 +And the few sounds from that vast multitude +Made silence more profound.—Oh, what a might +Of human thought was cradled in that night! +How many hearts impenetrably veiled +Beat underneath its shade, what secret fight _1735 +Evil and good, in woven passions mailed, +Waged through that silent throng—a war that never failed! + +3. +And now the Power of Good held victory. +So, through the labyrinth of many a tent, +Among the silent millions who did lie _1740 +In innocent sleep, exultingly I went; +The moon had left Heaven desert now, but lent +From eastern morn the first faint lustre showed +An armed youth—over his spear he bent +His downward face.—‘A friend!’ I cried aloud, _1745 +And quickly common hopes made freemen understood. + +4. +I sate beside him while the morning beam +Crept slowly over Heaven, and talked with him +Of those immortal hopes, a glorious theme! +Which led us forth, until the stars grew dim: _1750 +And all the while, methought, his voice did swim +As if it drowned in remembrance were +Of thoughts which make the moist eyes overbrim: +At last, when daylight ‘gan to fill the air, +He looked on me, and cried in wonder—‘Thou art here!’ _1755 + +5. +Then, suddenly, I knew it was the youth +In whom its earliest hopes my spirit found; +But envious tongues had stained his spotless truth, +And thoughtless pride his love in silence bound, +And shame and sorrow mine in toils had wound, _1760 +Whilst he was innocent, and I deluded; +The truth now came upon me, on the ground +Tears of repenting joy, which fast intruded, +Fell fast, and o’er its peace our mingling spirits brooded. + +6. +Thus, while with rapid lips and earnest eyes _1765 +We talked, a sound of sweeping conflict spread +As from the earth did suddenly arise; +From every tent roused by that clamour dread, +Our bands outsprung and seized their arms—we sped +Towards the sound: our tribes were gathering far. _1770 +Those sanguine slaves amid ten thousand dead +Stabbed in their sleep, trampled in treacherous war +The gentle hearts whose power their lives had sought to spare. + +7. +Like rabid snakes, that sting some gentle child +Who brings them food, when winter false and fair _1775 +Allures them forth with its cold smiles, so wild +They rage among the camp;—they overbear +The patriot hosts—confusion, then despair, +Descends like night—when ‘Laon!’ one did cry; +Like a bright ghost from Heaven that shout did scare _1780 +The slaves, and widening through the vaulted sky, +Seemed sent from Earth to Heaven in sign of victory. + +8. +In sudden panic those false murderers fled, +Like insect tribes before the northern gale: +But swifter still, our hosts encompassed _1785 +Their shattered ranks, and in a craggy vale, +Where even their fierce despair might nought avail, +Hemmed them around!—and then revenge and fear +Made the high virtue of the patriots fail: +One pointed on his foe the mortal spear— _1790 +I rushed before its point, and cried ‘Forbear, forbear!’ + +9. +The spear transfixed my arm that was uplifted +In swift expostulation, and the blood +Gushed round its point: I smiled, and—‘Oh! thou gifted +With eloquence which shall not be withstood, _1795 +Flow thus!’ I cried in joy, ‘thou vital flood, +Until my heart be dry, ere thus the cause +For which thou wert aught worthy be subdued— +Ah, ye are pale,—ye weep,—your passions pause,— +’Tis well! ye feel the truth of love’s benignant laws. _1800 + +10. +‘Soldiers, our brethren and our friends are slain. +Ye murdered them, I think, as they did sleep! +Alas, what have ye done? the slightest pain +Which ye might suffer, there were eyes to weep, +But ye have quenched them—there were smiles to steep _1805 +Your hearts in balm, but they are lost in woe; +And those whom love did set his watch to keep +Around your tents, truth’s freedom to bestow, +Ye stabbed as they did sleep—but they forgive ye now. + +11. +‘Oh wherefore should ill ever flow from ill, _1810 +And pain still keener pain for ever breed? +We all are brethren—even the slaves who kill +For hire, are men; and to avenge misdeed +On the misdoer, doth but Misery feed +With her own broken heart! O Earth, O Heaven! _1815 +And thou, dread Nature, which to every deed +And all that lives, or is, to be hath given, +Even as to thee have these done ill, and are forgiven! + +12. +‘Join then your hands and hearts, and let the past +Be as a grave which gives not up its dead _1820 +To evil thoughts.’—A film then overcast +My sense with dimness, for the wound, which bled +Freshly, swift shadows o’er mine eyes had shed. +When I awoke, I lay mid friends and foes, +And earnest countenances on me shed _1825 +The light of questioning looks, whilst one did close +My wound with balmiest herbs, and soothed me to repose; + +13. +And one whose spear had pierced me, leaned beside +With quivering lips and humid eyes;—and all +Seemed like some brothers on a journey wide _1830 +Gone forth, whom now strange meeting did befall +In a strange land, round one whom they might call +Their friend, their chief, their father, for assay +Of peril, which had saved them from the thrall +Of death, now suffering. Thus the vast array _1835 +Of those fraternal bands were reconciled that day. + +14. +Lifting the thunder of their acclamation, +Towards the City then the multitude, +And I among them, went in joy—a nation +Made free by love;—a mighty brotherhood _1840 +Linked by a jealous interchange of good; +A glorious pageant, more magnificent +Than kingly slaves arrayed in gold and blood, +When they return from carnage, and are sent +In triumph bright beneath the populous battlement. _1845 + +15. +Afar, the city-walls were thronged on high, +And myriads on each giddy turret clung, +And to each spire far lessening in the sky +Bright pennons on the idle winds were hung; +As we approached, a shout of joyance sprung _1850 +At once from all the crowd, as if the vast +And peopled Earth its boundless skies among +The sudden clamour of delight had cast, +When from before its face some general wreck had passed. + +16. +Our armies through the City’s hundred gates _1855 +Were poured, like brooks which to the rocky lair +Of some deep lake, whose silence them awaits, +Throng from the mountains when the storms are there +And, as we passed through the calm sunny air +A thousand flower-inwoven crowns were shed, _1860 +The token flowers of truth and freedom fair, +And fairest hands bound them on many a head, +Those angels of love’s heaven that over all was spread. + +17. +I trod as one tranced in some rapturous vision: +Those bloody bands so lately reconciled, _1865 +Were, ever as they went, by the contrition +Of anger turned to love, from ill beguiled, +And every one on them more gently smiled, +Because they had done evil:—the sweet awe +Of such mild looks made their own hearts grow mild, _1870 +And did with soft attraction ever draw +Their spirits to the love of freedom’s equal law. + +18. +And they, and all, in one loud symphony +My name with Liberty commingling, lifted, +‘The friend and the preserver of the free! _1875 +The parent of this joy!’ and fair eyes gifted +With feelings, caught from one who had uplifted +The light of a great spirit, round me shone; +And all the shapes of this grand scenery shifted +Like restless clouds before the steadfast sun,— _1880 +Where was that Maid? I asked, but it was known of none. + +19. +Laone was the name her love had chosen, +For she was nameless, and her birth none knew: +Where was Laone now?—The words were frozen +Within my lips with fear; but to subdue _1885 +Such dreadful hope, to my great task was due, +And when at length one brought reply, that she +To-morrow would appear, I then withdrew +To judge what need for that great throng might be, +For now the stars came thick over the twilight sea. _1890 + +20. +Yet need was none for rest or food to care, +Even though that multitude was passing great, +Since each one for the other did prepare +All kindly succour—Therefore to the gate +Of the Imperial House, now desolate, _1895 +I passed, and there was found aghast, alone, +The fallen Tyrant!—Silently he sate +Upon the footstool of his golden throne, +Which, starred with sunny gems, in its own lustre shone. + +21. +Alone, but for one child, who led before him _1900 +A graceful dance: the only living thing +Of all the crowd, which thither to adore him +Flocked yesterday, who solace sought to bring +In his abandonment!—She knew the King +Had praised her dance of yore, and now she wove _1905 +Its circles, aye weeping and murmuring +Mid her sad task of unregarded love, +That to no smiles it might his speechless sadness move. + +22. +She fled to him, and wildly clasped his feet +When human steps were heard:—he moved nor spoke, _1910 +Nor changed his hue, nor raised his looks to meet +The gaze of strangers—our loud entrance woke +The echoes of the hall, which circling broke +The calm of its recesses,—like a tomb +Its sculptured walls vacantly to the stroke _1915 +Of footfalls answered, and the twilight’s gloom +Lay like a charnel’s mist within the radiant dome. + +23. +The little child stood up when we came nigh; +Her lips and cheeks seemed very pale and wan, +But on her forehead, and within her eye _1920 +Lay beauty, which makes hearts that feed thereon +Sick with excess of sweetness; on the throne +She leaned;—the King, with gathered brow, and lips +Wreathed by long scorn, did inly sneer and frown +With hue like that when some great painter dips _1925 +His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse. + +24. +She stood beside him like a rainbow braided +Within some storm, when scarce its shadows vast +From the blue paths of the swift sun have faded; +A sweet and solemn smile, like Cythna’s, cast _1930 +One moment’s light, which made my heart beat fast, +O’er that child’s parted lips—a gleam of bliss, +A shade of vanished days,—as the tears passed +Which wrapped it, even as with a father’s kiss +I pressed those softest eyes in trembling tenderness. _1935 + +25. +The sceptred wretch then from that solitude +I drew, and, of his change compassionate, +With words of sadness soothed his rugged mood. +But he, while pride and fear held deep debate, +With sullen guile of ill-dissembled hate _1940 +Glared on me as a toothless snake might glare: +Pity, not scorn I felt, though desolate +The desolator now, and unaware +The curses which he mocked had caught him by the hair. + +26. +I led him forth from that which now might seem _1945 +A gorgeous grave: through portals sculptured deep +With imagery beautiful as dream +We went, and left the shades which tend on sleep +Over its unregarded gold to keep +Their silent watch.—The child trod faintingly, _1950 +And as she went, the tears which she did weep +Glanced in the starlight; wildered seemed she, +And, when I spake, for sobs she could not answer me. + +27. +At last the tyrant cried, ‘She hungers, slave! +Stab her, or give her bread!’—It was a tone _1955 +Such as sick fancies in a new-made grave +Might hear. I trembled, for the truth was known; +He with this child had thus been left alone, +And neither had gone forth for food,—but he +In mingled pride and awe cowered near his throne, _1960 +And she a nursling of captivity +Knew nought beyond those walls, nor what such change might be. + +28. +And he was troubled at a charm withdrawn +Thus suddenly; that sceptres ruled no more— +That even from gold the dreadful strength was gone, _1965 +Which once made all things subject to its power— +Such wonder seized him, as if hour by hour +The past had come again; and the swift fall +Of one so great and terrible of yore, +To desolateness, in the hearts of all _1970 +Like wonder stirred, who saw such awful change befall. + +29. +A mighty crowd, such as the wide land pours +Once in a thousand years, now gathered round +The fallen tyrant;—like the rush of showers +Of hail in spring, pattering along the ground, _1975 +Their many footsteps fell, else came no sound +From the wide multitude: that lonely man +Then knew the burden of his change, and found, +Concealing in the dust his visage wan, +Refuge from the keen looks which through his bosom ran. _1980 + +30. +And he was faint withal: I sate beside him +Upon the earth, and took that child so fair +From his weak arms, that ill might none betide him +Or her;—when food was brought to them, her share +To his averted lips the child did bear, _1985 +But, when she saw he had enough, she ate +And wept the while;—the lonely man’s despair +Hunger then overcame, and of his state +Forgetful, on the dust as in a trance he sate. + +31. +Slowly the silence of the multitudes _1990 +Passed, as when far is heard in some lone dell +The gathering of a wind among the woods— +‘And he is fallen!’ they cry, ‘he who did dwell +Like famine or the plague, or aught more fell +Among our homes, is fallen! the murderer _1995 +Who slaked his thirsting soul as from a well +Of blood and tears with ruin! he is here! +Sunk in a gulf of scorn from which none may him rear!’ + +32. +Then was heard—‘He who judged let him be brought +To judgement! blood for blood cries from the soil _2000 +On which his crimes have deep pollution wrought! +Shall Othman only unavenged despoil? +Shall they who by the stress of grinding toil +Wrest from the unwilling earth his luxuries, +Perish for crime, while his foul blood may boil, _2005 +Or creep within his veins at will?—Arise! +And to high justice make her chosen sacrifice!’ + +33. +‘What do ye seek? what fear ye,’ then I cried, +Suddenly starting forth, ‘that ye should shed +The blood of Othman?—if your hearts are tried _2010 +In the true love of freedom, cease to dread +This one poor lonely man—beneath Heaven spread +In purest light above us all, through earth— +Maternal earth, who doth her sweet smiles shed +For all, let him go free; until the worth _2015 +Of human nature win from these a second birth. + +34. +‘What call ye “justice”? Is there one who ne’er +In secret thought has wished another’s ill?— +Are ye all pure? Let those stand forth who hear +And tremble not. Shall they insult and kill, _2020 +If such they be? their mild eyes can they fill +With the false anger of the hypocrite? +Alas, such were not pure!—the chastened will +Of virtue sees that justice is the light +Of love, and not revenge, and terror and despite.’ _2025 + +35. +The murmur of the people, slowly dying, +Paused as I spake, then those who near me were, +Cast gentle looks where the lone man was lying +Shrouding his head, which now that infant fair +Clasped on her lap in silence;—through the air _2030 +Sobs were then heard, and many kissed my feet +In pity’s madness, and to the despair +Of him whom late they cursed, a solace sweet +His very victims brought—soft looks and speeches meet. + +36. +Then to a home for his repose assigned, _2035 +Accompanied by the still throng, he went +In silence, where, to soothe his rankling mind, +Some likeness of his ancient state was lent; +And if his heart could have been innocent +As those who pardoned him, he might have ended _2040 +His days in peace; but his straight lips were bent, +Men said, into a smile which guile portended, +A sight with which that child like hope with fear was blended. + +37. +’Twas midnight now, the eve of that great day +Whereon the many nations at whose call _2045 +The chains of earth like mist melted away, +Decreed to hold a sacred Festival, +A rite to attest the equality of all +Who live. So to their homes, to dream or wake +All went. The sleepless silence did recall _2050 +Laone to my thoughts, with hopes that make +The flood recede from which their thirst they seek to slake. + +38. +The dawn flowed forth, and from its purple fountains +I drank those hopes which make the spirit quail, +As to the plain between the misty mountains _2055 +And the great City, with a countenance pale, +I went:—it was a sight which might avail +To make men weep exulting tears, for whom +Now first from human power the reverend veil +Was torn, to see Earth from her general womb _2060 +Pour forth her swarming sons to a fraternal doom: + +39. +To see, far glancing in the misty morning, +The signs of that innumerable host; +To hear one sound of many made, the warning +Of Earth to Heaven from its free children tossed, _2065 +While the eternal hills, and the sea lost +In wavering light, and, starring the blue sky +The city’s myriad spires of gold, almost +With human joy made mute society— +Its witnesses with men who must hereafter be. _2070 + +40. +To see, like some vast island from the Ocean, +The Altar of the Federation rear +Its pile i’ the midst; a work, which the devotion +Of millions in one night created there, +Sudden as when the moonrise makes appear _2075 +Strange clouds in the east; a marble pyramid +Distinct with steps: that mighty shape did wear +The light of genius; its still shadow hid +Far ships: to know its height the morning mists forbid! + +41. +To hear the restless multitudes for ever _2080 +Around the base of that great Altar flow, +As on some mountain-islet burst and shiver +Atlantic waves; and solemnly and slow +As the wind bore that tumult to and fro, +To feel the dreamlike music, which did swim _2085 +Like beams through floating clouds on waves below +Falling in pauses, from that Altar dim, +As silver-sounding tongues breathed an aerial hymn. + +42. +To hear, to see, to live, was on that morn +Lethean joy! so that all those assembled _2090 +Cast off their memories of the past outworn; +Two only bosoms with their own life trembled, +And mine was one,—and we had both dissembled; +So with a beating heart I went, and one, +Who having much, covets yet more, resembled; _2095 +A lost and dear possession, which not won, +He walks in lonely gloom beneath the noonday sun. + +43. +To the great Pyramid I came: its stair +With female choirs was thronged: the loveliest +Among the free, grouped with its sculptures rare; _2100 +As I approached, the morning’s golden mist, +Which now the wonder-stricken breezes kissed +With their cold lips, fled, and the summit shone +Like Athos seen from Samothracia, dressed +In earliest light, by vintagers, and one _2105 +Sate there, a female Shape upon an ivory throne: + +44. +A Form most like the imagined habitant +Of silver exhalations sprung from dawn, +By winds which feed on sunrise woven, to enchant +The faiths of men: all mortal eyes were drawn, _2110 +As famished mariners through strange seas gone +Gaze on a burning watch-tower, by the light +Of those divinest lineaments—alone +With thoughts which none could share, from that fair sight +I turned in sickness, for a veil shrouded her countenance bright. _2115 + +45. +And neither did I hear the acclamations, +Which from brief silence bursting, filled the air +With her strange name and mine, from all the nations +Which we, they said, in strength had gathered there +From the sleep of bondage; nor the vision fair _2120 +Of that bright pageantry beheld,—but blind +And silent, as a breathing corpse did fare, +Leaning upon my friend, till like a wind +To fevered cheeks, a voice flowed o’er my troubled mind. + +46. +Like music of some minstrel heavenly gifted, _2125 +To one whom fiends enthral, this voice to me; +Scarce did I wish her veil to be uplifted, +I was so calm and joyous.—I could see +The platform where we stood, the statues three +Which kept their marble watch on that high shrine, _2130 +The multitudes, the mountains, and the sea; +As when eclipse hath passed, things sudden shine +To men’s astonished eyes most clear and crystalline. + +47. +At first Laone spoke most tremulously: +But soon her voice the calmness which it shed _2135 +Gathered, and—‘Thou art whom I sought to see, +And thou art our first votary here,’ she said: +‘I had a dear friend once, but he is dead!— +And of all those on the wide earth who breathe, +Thou dost resemble him alone—I spread _2140 +This veil between us two that thou beneath +Shouldst image one who may have been long lost in death. + +48. +‘For this wilt thou not henceforth pardon me? +Yes, but those joys which silence well requite +Forbid reply;—why men have chosen me _2145 +To be the Priestess of this holiest rite +I scarcely know, but that the floods of light +Which flow over the world, have borne me hither +To meet thee, long most dear; and now unite +Thine hand with mine, and may all comfort wither _2150 +From both the hearts whose pulse in joy now beat together, + +49. +‘If our own will as others’ law we bind, +If the foul worship trampled here we fear; +If as ourselves we cease to love our kind!’— +She paused, and pointed upwards—sculptured there _2155 +Three shapes around her ivory throne appear; +One was a Giant, like a child asleep +On a loose rock, whose grasp crushed, as it were +In dream, sceptres and crowns; and one did keep +Its watchful eyes in doubt whether to smile or weep; _2160 + +50. +A Woman sitting on the sculptured disk +Of the broad earth, and feeding from one breast +A human babe and a young basilisk; +Her looks were sweet as Heaven’s when loveliest +In Autumn eves. The third Image was dressed _2165 +In white wings swift as clouds in winter skies; +Beneath his feet, ‘mongst ghastliest forms, repressed +Lay Faith, an obscene worm, who sought to rise, +While calmly on the Sun he turned his diamond eyes. + +51. +Beside that Image then I sate, while she _2170 +Stood, mid the throngs which ever ebbed and flowed, +Like light amid the shadows of the sea +Cast from one cloudless star, and on the crowd +That touch which none who feels forgets, bestowed; +And whilst the sun returned the steadfast gaze _2175 +Of the great Image, as o’er Heaven it glode, +That rite had place; it ceased when sunset’s blaze +Burned o’er the isles. All stood in joy and deep amaze— +—When in the silence of all spirits there +Laone’s voice was felt, and through the air _2180 +Her thrilling gestures spoke, most eloquently fair:— + +51.1. +‘Calm art thou as yon sunset! swift and strong +As new-fledged Eagles, beautiful and young, +That float among the blinding beams of morning; +And underneath thy feet writhe Faith, and Folly, _2185 +Custom, and Hell, and mortal Melancholy— +Hark! the Earth starts to hear the mighty warning +Of thy voice sublime and holy; +Its free spirits here assembled +See thee, feel thee, know thee now,— _2190 +To thy voice their hearts have trembled +Like ten thousand clouds which flow +With one wide wind as it flies!— +Wisdom! thy irresistible children rise +To hail thee, and the elements they chain _2195 +And their own will, to swell the glory of thy train. + +51.2. +‘O Spirit vast and deep as Night and Heaven! +Mother and soul of all to which is given +The light of life, the loveliness of being, +Lo! thou dost re-ascend the human heart, _2200 +Thy throne of power, almighty as thou wert +In dreams of Poets old grown pale by seeing +The shade of thee;—now, millions start +To feel thy lightnings through them burning: +Nature, or God, or Love, or Pleasure, _2205 +Or Sympathy the sad tears turning +To mutual smiles, a drainless treasure, +Descends amidst us;—Scorn and Hate, +Revenge and Selfishness are desolate— +A hundred nations swear that there shall be _2210 +Pity and Peace and Love, among the good and free! + +51.3. +‘Eldest of things, divine Equality! +Wisdom and Love are but the slaves of thee, +The Angels of thy sway, who pour around thee +Treasures from all the cells of human thought, _2215 +And from the Stars, and from the Ocean brought, +And the last living heart whose beatings bound thee: +The powerful and the wise had sought +Thy coming, thou in light descending +O’er the wide land which is thine own _2220 +Like the Spring whose breath is blending +All blasts of fragrance into one, +Comest upon the paths of men!— +Earth bares her general bosom to thy ken, +And all her children here in glory meet _2225 +To feed upon thy smiles, and clasp thy sacred feet. + +51.4 +‘My brethren, we are free! the plains and mountains, +The gray sea-shore, the forests and the fountains, +Are haunts of happiest dwellers;—man and woman, +Their common bondage burst, may freely borrow _2230 +From lawless love a solace for their sorrow; +For oft we still must weep, since we are human. +A stormy night’s serenest morrow, +Whose showers are pity’s gentle tears, +Whose clouds are smiles of those that die _2235 +Like infants without hopes or fears, +And whose beams are joys that lie +In blended hearts, now holds dominion; +The dawn of mind, which upwards on a pinion +Borne, swift as sunrise, far illumines space, _2240 +And clasps this barren world in its own bright embrace! + +51.5 +‘My brethren, we are free! The fruits are glowing +Beneath the stars, and the night-winds are flowing +O’er the ripe corn, the birds and beasts are dreaming— +Never again may blood of bird or beast _2245 +Stain with its venomous stream a human feast, +To the pure skies in accusation steaming; +Avenging poisons shall have ceased +To feed disease and fear and madness, +The dwellers of the earth and air _2250 +Shall throng around our steps in gladness, +Seeking their food or refuge there. +Our toil from thought all glorious forms shall cull, +To make this Earth, our home, more beautiful, +And Science, and her sister Poesy, _2255 +Shall clothe in light the fields and cities of the free! + +51.6 +‘Victory, Victory to the prostrate nations! +Bear witness Night, and ye mute Constellations +Who gaze on us from your crystalline cars! +Thoughts have gone forth whose powers can sleep no more! _2260 +Victory! Victory! Earth’s remotest shore, +Regions which groan beneath the Antarctic stars, +The green lands cradled in the roar +Of western waves, and wildernesses +Peopled and vast, which skirt the oceans _2265 +Where morning dyes her golden tresses, +Shall soon partake our high emotions: +Kings shall turn pale! Almighty Fear, +The Fiend-God, when our charmed name he hear, +Shall fade like shadow from his thousand fanes, _2270 +While Truth with Joy enthroned o’er his lost empire reigns!’ + +51.52. +Ere she had ceased, the mists of night entwining +Their dim woof, floated o’er the infinite throng; +She, like a spirit through the darkness shining, +In tones whose sweetness silence did prolong, _2275 +As if to lingering winds they did belong, +Poured forth her inmost soul: a passionate speech +With wild and thrilling pauses woven among, +Which whoso heard was mute, for it could teach +To rapture like her own all listening hearts to reach. _2280 + +53. +Her voice was as a mountain stream which sweeps +The withered leaves of Autumn to the lake, +And in some deep and narrow bay then sleeps +In the shadow of the shores; as dead leaves wake, +Under the wave, in flowers and herbs which make _2285 +Those green depths beautiful when skies are blue, +The multitude so moveless did partake +Such living change, and kindling murmurs flew +As o’er that speechless calm delight and wonder grew. + +54. +Over the plain the throngs were scattered then _2290 +In groups around the fires, which from the sea +Even to the gorge of the first mountain-glen +Blazed wide and far: the banquet of the free +Was spread beneath many a dark cypress-tree, +Beneath whose spires, which swayed in the red flame, _2295 +Reclining, as they ate, of Liberty, +And Hope, and Justice, and Laone’s name, +Earth’s children did a woof of happy converse frame. + +55. +Their feast was such as Earth, the general mother, +Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles _2300 +In the embrace of Autumn;—to each other +As when some parent fondly reconciles +Her warring children, she their wrath beguiles +With her own sustenance, they relenting weep: +Such was this Festival, which from their isles _2305 +And continents, and winds, and oceans deep, +All shapes might throng to share, that fly, or walk or creep,— + +56. +Might share in peace and innocence, for gore +Or poison none this festal did pollute, +But, piled on high, an overflowing store _2310 +Of pomegranates and citrons, fairest fruit, +Melons, and dates, and figs, and many a root +Sweet and sustaining, and bright grapes ere yet +Accursed fire their mild juice could transmute +Into a mortal bane, and brown corn set _2315 +In baskets; with pure streams their thirsting lips they wet. + +57. +Laone had descended from the shrine, +And every deepest look and holiest mind +Fed on her form, though now those tones divine +Were silent as she passed; she did unwind _2320 +Her veil, as with the crowds of her own kind +She mixed; some impulse made my heart refrain +From seeking her that night, so I reclined +Amidst a group, where on the utmost plain +A festal watchfire burned beside the dusky main. _2325 + +58. +And joyous was our feast; pathetic talk, +And wit, and harmony of choral strains, +While far Orion o’er the waves did walk +That flow among the isles, held us in chains +Of sweet captivity which none disdains _2330 +Who feels; but when his zone grew dim in mist +Which clothes the Ocean’s bosom, o’er the plains +The multitudes went homeward, to their rest, +Which that delightful day with its own shadow blessed. + + +NOTES: +_2295 flame]light edition 1818. + + +CANTO 6. + +1. +Beside the dimness of the glimmering sea, _2335 +Weaving swift language from impassioned themes, +With that dear friend I lingered, who to me +So late had been restored, beneath the gleams +Of the silver stars; and ever in soft dreams +Of future love and peace sweet converse lapped _2340 +Our willing fancies, till the pallid beams +Of the last watchfire fell, and darkness wrapped +The waves, and each bright chain of floating fire was snapped; + +2. +And till we came even to the City’s wall +And the great gate; then, none knew whence or why, _2345 +Disquiet on the multitudes did fall: +And first, one pale and breathless passed us by, +And stared and spoke not;—then with piercing cry +A troop of wild-eyed women, by the shrieks +Of their own terror driven,—tumultuously _2350 +Hither and thither hurrying with pale cheeks, +Each one from fear unknown a sudden refuge seeks— + +3. +Then, rallying cries of treason and of danger +Resounded: and—‘They come! to arms! to arms! +The Tyrant is amongst us, and the stranger _2355 +Comes to enslave us in his name! to arms!’ +In vain: for Panic, the pale fiend who charms +Strength to forswear her right, those millions swept +Like waves before the tempest—these alarms +Came to me, as to know their cause I lept _2360 +On the gate’s turret, and in rage and grief and scorn I wept! + +4. +For to the North I saw the town on fire, +And its red light made morning pallid now, +Which burst over wide Asia;—louder, higher, +The yells of victory and the screams of woe _2365 +I heard approach, and saw the throng below +Stream through the gates like foam-wrought waterfalls +Fed from a thousand storms—the fearful glow +Of bombs flares overhead—at intervals +The red artillery’s bolt mangling among them falls. _2370 + +5. +And now the horsemen come—and all was done +Swifter than I have spoken—I beheld +Their red swords flash in the unrisen sun. +I rushed among the rout, to have repelled +That miserable flight—one moment quelled _2375 +By voice and looks and eloquent despair, +As if reproach from their own hearts withheld +Their steps, they stood; but soon came pouring there +New multitudes, and did those rallied bands o’erbear. + +6. +I strove, as, drifted on some cataract _2380 +By irresistible streams, some wretch might strive +Who hears its fatal roar:—the files compact +Whelmed me, and from the gate availed to drive +With quickening impulse, as each bolt did rive +Their ranks with bloodier chasm:—into the plain _2385 +Disgorged at length the dead and the alive +In one dread mass, were parted, and the stain +Of blood, from mortal steel fell o’er the fields like rain. + +7. +For now the despot’s bloodhounds with their prey +Unarmed and unaware, were gorging deep _2390 +Their gluttony of death; the loose array +Of horsemen o’er the wide fields murdering sweep, +And with loud laughter for their tyrant reap +A harvest sown with other hopes; the while, +Far overhead, ships from Propontis keep _2395 +A killing rain of fire:—when the waves smile +As sudden earthquakes light many a volcano-isle, + +8. +Thus sudden, unexpected feast was spread +For the carrion-fowls of Heaven.—I saw the sight— +I moved—I lived—as o’er the heaps of dead, _2400 +Whose stony eyes glared in the morning light +I trod;—to me there came no thought of flight, +But with loud cries of scorn, which whoso heard +That dreaded death, felt in his veins the might +Of virtuous shame return, the crowd I stirred, _2405 +And desperation’s hope in many hearts recurred. + +9. +A band of brothers gathering round me, made, +Although unarmed, a steadfast front, and still +Retreating, with stern looks beneath the shade +Of gathered eyebrows, did the victors fill _2410 +With doubt even in success; deliberate will +Inspired our growing troop; not overthrown +It gained the shelter of a grassy hill, +And ever still our comrades were hewn down, +And their defenceless limbs beneath our footsteps strown. _2415 + +10. +Immovably we stood—in joy I found, +Beside me then, firm as a giant pine +Among the mountain-vapours driven around, +The old man whom I loved—his eyes divine +With a mild look of courage answered mine, _2420 +And my young friend was near, and ardently +His hand grasped mine a moment—now the line +Of war extended, to our rallying cry +As myriads flocked in love and brotherhood to die. + +11. +For ever while the sun was climbing Heaven _2425 +The horseman hewed our unarmed myriads down +Safely, though when by thirst of carnage driven +Too near, those slaves were swiftly overthrown +By hundreds leaping on them:—flesh and bone +Soon made our ghastly ramparts; then the shaft _2430 +Of the artillery from the sea was thrown +More fast and fiery, and the conquerors laughed +In pride to hear the wind our screams of torment waft. + +12. +For on one side alone the hill gave shelter, +So vast that phalanx of unconquered men, _2435 +And there the living in the blood did welter +Of the dead and dying, which in that green glen, +Like stifled torrents, made a plashy fen +Under the feet—thus was the butchery waged +While the sun clomb Heaven’s eastern steep—but when _2440 +It ‘gan to sink—a fiercer combat raged, +For in more doubtful strife the armies were engaged. + +13. +Within a cave upon the hill were found +A bundle of rude pikes, the instrument +Of those who war but on their native ground _2445 +For natural rights: a shout of joyance sent +Even from our hearts the wide air pierced and rent, +As those few arms the bravest and the best +Seized, and each sixth, thus armed, did now present +A line which covered and sustained the rest, _2450 +A confident phalanx, which the foes on every side invest. + +14. +That onset turned the foes to flight almost; +But soon they saw their present strength, and knew +That coming night would to our resolute host +Bring victory; so dismounting, close they drew _2455 +Their glittering files, and then the combat grew +Unequal but most horrible;—and ever +Our myriads, whom the swift bolt overthrew, +Or the red sword, failed like a mountain river +Which rushes forth in foam to sink in sands for ever. _2460 + +15. +Sorrow and shame, to see with their own kind +Our human brethren mix, like beasts of blood, +To mutual ruin armed by one behind +Who sits and scoffs!—That friend so mild and good, +Who like its shadow near my youth had stood, _2465 +Was stabbed!—my old preserver’s hoary hair +With the flesh clinging to its roots, was strewed +Under my feet!—I lost all sense or care, +And like the rest I grew desperate and unaware. + +16. +The battle became ghastlier—in the midst _2470 +I paused, and saw, how ugly and how fell +O Hate! thou art, even when thy life thou shedd’st +For love. The ground in many a little dell +Was broken, up and down whose steeps befell +Alternate victory and defeat, and there _2475 +The combatants with rage most horrible +Strove, and their eyes started with cracking stare, +And impotent their tongues they lolled into the air, + +17. +Flaccid and foamy, like a mad dog’s hanging; +Want, and Moon-madness, and the pest’s swift Bane _2480 +When its shafts smite—while yet its bow is twanging— +Have each their mark and sign—some ghastly stain; +And this was thine, O War! of hate and pain +Thou loathed slave! I saw all shapes of death +And ministered to many, o’er the plain _2485 +While carnage in the sunbeam’s warmth did seethe, +Till twilight o’er the east wove her serenest wreath. + +18. +The few who yet survived, resolute and firm +Around me fought. At the decline of day +Winding above the mountain’s snowy term _2490 +New banners shone; they quivered in the ray +Of the sun’s unseen orb—ere night the array +Of fresh troops hemmed us in—of those brave bands +I soon survived alone—and now I lay +Vanquished and faint, the grasp of bloody hands _2495 +I felt, and saw on high the glare of falling brands, + +19. +When on my foes a sudden terror came, +And they fled, scattering—lo! with reinless speed +A black Tartarian horse of giant frame +Comes trampling over the dead, the living bleed _2500 +Beneath the hoofs of that tremendous steed, +On which, like to an Angel, robed in white, +Sate one waving a sword;—the hosts recede +And fly, as through their ranks with awful might, +Sweeps in the shadow of eve that Phantom swift and bright; _2505 + +20. +And its path made a solitude.—I rose +And marked its coming: it relaxed its course +As it approached me, and the wind that flows +Through night, bore accents to mine ear whose force +Might create smiles in death—the Tartar horse _2510 +Paused, and I saw the shape its might which swayed, +And heard her musical pants, like the sweet source +Of waters in the desert, as she said, +‘Mount with me, Laon, now’—I rapidly obeyed. + +21. +Then: ‘Away! away!’ she cried, and stretched her sword _2515 +As ’twere a scourge over the courser’s head, +And lightly shook the reins.—We spake no word, +But like the vapour of the tempest fled +Over the plain; her dark hair was dispread +Like the pine’s locks upon the lingering blast; _2520 +Over mine eyes its shadowy strings it spread +Fitfully, and the hills and streams fled fast, +As o’er their glimmering forms the steed’s broad shadow passed. + +22. +And his hoofs ground the rocks to fire and dust, +His strong sides made the torrents rise in spray, _2525 +And turbulence, as of a whirlwind’s gust +Surrounded us;—and still away! away! +Through the desert night we sped, while she alway +Gazed on a mountain which we neared, whose crest, +Crowned with a marble ruin, in the ray _2530 +Of the obscure stars gleamed;—its rugged breast +The steed strained up, and then his impulse did arrest. + +23. +A rocky hill which overhung the Ocean:— +From that lone ruin, when the steed that panted +Paused, might be heard the murmur of the motion _2535 +Of waters, as in spots for ever haunted +By the choicest winds of Heaven, which are enchanted +To music, by the wand of Solitude, +That wizard wild, and the far tents implanted +Upon the plain, be seen by those who stood _2540 +Thence marking the dark shore of Ocean’s curved flood. + +24. +One moment these were heard and seen—another +Passed; and the two who stood beneath that night, +Each only heard, or saw, or felt the other; +As from the lofty steed she did alight, _2545 +Cythna, (for, from the eyes whose deepest light +Of love and sadness made my lips feel pale +With influence strange of mournfullest delight, +My own sweet Cythna looked), with joy did quail, +And felt her strength in tears of human weakness fail. _2550 + +25. +And for a space in my embrace she rested, +Her head on my unquiet heart reposing, +While my faint arms her languid frame invested; +At length she looked on me, and half unclosing +Her tremulous lips, said, ‘Friend, thy bands were losing _2555 +The battle, as I stood before the King +In bonds.—I burst them then, and swiftly choosing +The time, did seize a Tartar’s sword, and spring +Upon his horse, and swift, as on the whirlwind’s wing, + +26. +‘Have thou and I been borne beyond pursuer, _2560 +And we are here.’—Then, turning to the steed, +She pressed the white moon on his front with pure +And rose-like lips, and many a fragrant weed +From the green ruin plucked, that he might feed;— +But I to a stone seat that Maiden led, _2565 +And, kissing her fair eyes, said, ‘Thou hast need +Of rest,’ and I heaped up the courser’s bed +In a green mossy nook, with mountain flowers dispread. + +27. +Within that ruin, where a shattered portal +Looks to the eastern stars, abandoned now _2570 +By man, to be the home of things immortal, +Memories, like awful ghosts which come and go, +And must inherit all he builds below, +When he is gone, a hall stood; o’er whose roof +Fair clinging weeds with ivy pale did grow, _2575 +Clasping its gray rents with a verdurous woof, +A hanging dome of leaves, a canopy moon-proof. + +28. +The autumnal winds, as if spell-bound, had made +A natural couch of leaves in that recess, +Which seasons none disturbed, but, in the shade _2580 +Of flowering parasites, did Spring love to dress +With their sweet blooms the wintry loneliness +Of those dead leaves, shedding their stars, whene’er +The wandering wind her nurslings might caress; +Whose intertwining fingers ever there _2585 +Made music wild and soft that filled the listening air. + +29. +We know not where we go, or what sweet dream +May pilot us through caverns strange and fair +Of far and pathless passion, while the stream +Of life, our bark doth on its whirlpools bear, _2590 +Spreading swift wings as sails to the dim air; +Nor should we seek to know, so the devotion +Of love and gentle thoughts be heard still there +Louder and louder from the utmost Ocean +Of universal life, attuning its commotion. _2595 + +30. +To the pure all things are pure! Oblivion wrapped +Our spirits, and the fearful overthrow +Of public hope was from our being snapped, +Though linked years had bound it there; for now +A power, a thirst, a knowledge, which below _2600 +All thoughts, like light beyond the atmosphere, +Clothing its clouds with grace, doth ever flow, +Came on us, as we sate in silence there, +Beneath the golden stars of the clear azure air;— + +31. +In silence which doth follow talk that causes _2605 +The baffled heart to speak with sighs and tears, +When wildering passion swalloweth up the pauses +Of inexpressive speech:—the youthful years +Which we together passed, their hopes and fears, +The blood itself which ran within our frames, _2610 +That likeness of the features which endears +The thoughts expressed by them, our very names, +And all the winged hours which speechless memory claims, + +32. +Had found a voice—and ere that voice did pass, +The night grew damp and dim, and, through a rent _2615 +Of the ruin where we sate, from the morass +A wandering Meteor by some wild wind sent, +Hung high in the green dome, to which it lent +A faint and pallid lustre; while the song +Of blasts, in which its blue hair quivering bent, _2620 +Strewed strangest sounds the moving leaves among; +A wondrous light, the sound as of a spirit’s tongue. + +33. +The Meteor showed the leaves on which we sate, +And Cythna’s glowing arms, and the thick ties +Of her soft hair, which bent with gathered weight _2625 +My neck near hers; her dark and deepening eyes, +Which, as twin phantoms of one star that lies +O’er a dim well, move, though the star reposes, +Swam in our mute and liquid ecstasies, +Her marble brow, and eager lips, like roses, _2630 +With their own fragrance pale, which Spring but half uncloses. + +34. +The Meteor to its far morass returned: +The beating of our veins one interval +Made still; and then I felt the blood that burned +Within her frame, mingle with mine, and fall _2635 +Around my heart like fire; and over all +A mist was spread, the sickness of a deep +And speechless swoon of joy, as might befall +Two disunited spirits when they leap +In union from this earth’s obscure and fading sleep. _2640 + +35. +Was it one moment that confounded thus +All thought, all sense, all feeling, into one +Unutterable power, which shielded us +Even from our own cold looks, when we had gone +Into a wide and wild oblivion _2645 +Of tumult and of tenderness? or now +Had ages, such as make the moon and sun, +The seasons, and mankind their changes know, +Left fear and time unfelt by us alone below? + +36. +I know not. What are kisses whose fire clasps _2650 +The failing heart in languishment, or limb +Twined within limb? or the quick dying gasps +Of the life meeting, when the faint eyes swim +Through tears of a wide mist boundless and dim, +In one caress? What is the strong control _2655 +Which leads the heart that dizzy steep to climb, +Where far over the world those vapours roll +Which blend two restless frames in one reposing soul? +37. +It is the shadow which doth float unseen, +But not unfelt, o’er blind mortality, _2660 +Whose divine darkness fled not from that green +And lone recess, where lapped in peace did lie +Our linked frames, till, from the changing sky +That night and still another day had fled; +And then I saw and felt. The moon was high, _2665 +And clouds, as of a coming storm, were spread +Under its orb,—loud winds were gathering overhead. + +38. +Cythna’s sweet lips seemed lurid in the moon, +Her fairest limbs with the night wind were chill, +And her dark tresses were all loosely strewn _2670 +O’er her pale bosom:—all within was still, +And the sweet peace of joy did almost fill +The depth of her unfathomable look;— +And we sate calmly, though that rocky hill, +The waves contending in its caverns strook, _2675 +For they foreknew the storm, and the gray ruin shook. + +39. +There we unheeding sate, in the communion +Of interchanged vows, which, with a rite +Of faith most sweet and sacred, stamped our union.— +Few were the living hearts which could unite _2680 +Like ours, or celebrate a bridal night +With such close sympathies, for they had sprung +From linked youth, and from the gentle might +Of earliest love, delayed and cherished long, +Which common hopes and fears made, like a tempest, strong. _2685 + +40. +And such is Nature’s law divine, that those +Who grow together cannot choose but love, +If faith or custom do not interpose, +Or common slavery mar what else might move +All gentlest thoughts; as in the sacred grove _2690 +Which shades the springs of Ethiopian Nile, +That living tree which, if the arrowy dove +Strike with her shadow, shrinks in fear awhile, +But its own kindred leaves clasps while the sunbeams smile; + +41. +And clings to them, when darkness may dissever _2695 +The close caresses of all duller plants +Which bloom on the wide earth—thus we for ever +Were linked, for love had nursed us in the haunts +Where knowledge, from its secret source enchants +Young hearts with the fresh music of its springing, _2700 +Ere yet its gathered flood feeds human wants, +As the great Nile feeds Egypt; ever flinging +Light on the woven boughs which o’er its waves are swinging. + +42. +The tones of Cythna’s voice like echoes were +Of those far murmuring streams; they rose and fell, _2705 +Mixed with mine own in the tempestuous air,— +And so we sate, until our talk befell +Of the late ruin, swift and horrible, +And how those seeds of hope might yet be sown, +Whose fruit is evil’s mortal poison: well, _2710 +For us, this ruin made a watch-tower lone, +But Cythna’s eyes looked faint, and now two days were gone + +43. +Since she had food:—therefore I did awaken +The Tartar steed, who, from his ebon mane +Soon as the clinging slumbers he had shaken, _2715 +Bent his thin head to seek the brazen rein, +Following me obediently; with pain +Of heart, so deep and dread, that one caress, +When lips and heart refuse to part again +Till they have told their fill, could scarce express _2720 +The anguish of her mute and fearful tenderness, + +44. +Cythna beheld me part, as I bestrode +That willing steed—the tempest and the night, +Which gave my path its safety as I rode +Down the ravine of rocks, did soon unite _2725 +The darkness and the tumult of their might +Borne on all winds.—Far through the streaming rain +Floating at intervals the garments white +Of Cythna gleamed, and her voice once again +Came to me on the gust, and soon I reached the plain. _2730 + +45. +I dreaded not the tempest, nor did he +Who bore me, but his eyeballs wide and red +Turned on the lightning’s cleft exultingly; +And when the earth beneath his tameless tread, +Shook with the sullen thunder, he would spread _2735 +His nostrils to the blast, and joyously +Mock the fierce peal with neighings;—thus we sped +O’er the lit plain, and soon I could descry +Where Death and Fire had gorged the spoil of victory. + +46. +There was a desolate village in a wood _2740 +Whose bloom-inwoven leaves now scattering fed +The hungry storm; it was a place of blood, +A heap of hearthless walls;—the flames were dead +Within those dwellings now,—the life had fled +From all those corpses now,—but the wide sky _2745 +Flooded with lightning was ribbed overhead +By the black rafters, and around did lie +Women, and babes, and men, slaughtered confusedly. + +47. +Beside the fountain in the market-place +Dismounting, I beheld those corpses stare _2750 +With horny eyes upon each other’s face, +And on the earth and on the vacant air, +And upon me, close to the waters where +I stooped to slake my thirst;—I shrank to taste, +For the salt bitterness of blood was there; _2755 +But tied the steed beside, and sought in haste +If any yet survived amid that ghastly waste. + +48. +No living thing was there beside one woman, +Whom I found wandering in the streets, and she +Was withered from a likeness of aught human _2760 +Into a fiend, by some strange misery: +Soon as she heard my steps she leaped on me, +And glued her burning lips to mine, and laughed +With a loud, long, and frantic laugh of glee, +And cried, ‘Now, Mortal, thou hast deeply quaffed _2765 +The Plague’s blue kisses—soon millions shall pledge the draught! + +49. +‘My name is Pestilence—this bosom dry, +Once fed two babes—a sister and a brother— +When I came home, one in the blood did lie +Of three death-wounds—the flames had ate the other! _2770 +Since then I have no longer been a mother, +But I am Pestilence;—hither and thither +I flit about, that I may slay and smother:— +All lips which I have kissed must surely wither, +But Death’s—if thou art he, we’ll go to work together! _2775 + +50. +‘What seek’st thou here? The moonlight comes in flashes,— +The dew is rising dankly from the dell— +‘Twill moisten her! and thou shalt see the gashes +In my sweet boy, now full of worms—but tell +First what thou seek’st.’—‘I seek for food.’—‘’Tis well, _2780 +Thou shalt have food. Famine, my paramour, +Waits for us at the feast—cruel and fell +Is Famine, but he drives not from his door +Those whom these lips have kissed, alone. No more, no more!’ + +51. +As thus she spake, she grasped me with the strength _2785 +Of madness, and by many a ruined hearth +She led, and over many a corpse:—at length +We came to a lone hut where on the earth +Which made its floor, she in her ghastly mirth, +Gathering from all those homes now desolate, _2790 +Had piled three heaps of loaves, making a dearth +Among the dead—round which she set in state +A ring of cold, stiff babes; silent and stark they sate. + +52. +She leaped upon a pile, and lifted high +Her mad looks to the lightning, and cried: ‘Eat! _2795 +Share the great feast—to-morrow we must die!’ +And then she spurned the loaves with her pale feet, +Towards her bloodless guests;—that sight to meet, +Mine eyes and my heart ached, and but that she +Who loved me, did with absent looks defeat _2800 +Despair, I might have raved in sympathy; +But now I took the food that woman offered me; + +53. +And vainly having with her madness striven +If I might win her to return with me, +Departed. In the eastern beams of Heaven _2805 +The lightning now grew pallid—rapidly, +As by the shore of the tempestuous sea +The dark steed bore me; and the mountain gray +Soon echoed to his hoofs, and I could see +Cythna among the rocks, where she alway _2810 +Had sate with anxious eyes fixed on the lingering day. + +54. +And joy was ours to meet: she was most pale, +Famished, and wet and weary, so I cast +My arms around her, lest her steps should fail +As to our home we went, and thus embraced, _2815 +Her full heart seemed a deeper joy to taste +Than e’er the prosperous know; the steed behind +Trod peacefully along the mountain waste; +We reached our home ere morning could unbind +Night’s latest veil, and on our bridal-couch reclined. _2820 + +55. +Her chilled heart having cherished in my bosom, +And sweetest kisses past, we two did share +Our peaceful meal:—as an autumnal blossom +Which spreads its shrunk leaves in the sunny air, +After cold showers, like rainbows woven there, _2825 +Thus in her lips and cheeks the vital spirit +Mantled, and in her eyes, an atmosphere +Of health, and hope; and sorrow languished near it, +And fear, and all that dark despondence doth inherit. + + +NOTES: +_2397 -isle. Bradley, who cps. Marianne’s Dream, St. 12. See note at end. + + +CANTO 7. + +1. +So we sate joyous as the morning ray _2830 +Which fed upon the wrecks of night and storm +Now lingering on the winds; light airs did play +Among the dewy weeds, the sun was warm, +And we sate linked in the inwoven charm +Of converse and caresses sweet and deep, _2835 +Speechless caresses, talk that might disarm +Time, though he wield the darts of death and sleep, +And those thrice mortal barbs in his own poison steep. + +2. +I told her of my sufferings and my madness, +And how, awakened from that dreamy mood _2840 +By Liberty’s uprise, the strength of gladness +Came to my spirit in my solitude; +And all that now I was—while tears pursued +Each other down her fair and listening cheek +Fast as the thoughts which fed them, like a flood _2845 +From sunbright dales; and when I ceased to speak, +Her accents soft and sweet the pausing air did wake. + +3. +She told me a strange tale of strange endurance, +Like broken memories of many a heart +Woven into one; to which no firm assurance, _2850 +So wild were they, could her own faith impart. +She said that not a tear did dare to start +From the swoln brain, and that her thoughts were firm +When from all mortal hope she did depart, +Borne by those slaves across the Ocean’s term, _2855 +And that she reached the port without one fear infirm. + +4. +One was she among many there, the thralls +Of the cold Tyrant’s cruel lust; and they +Laughed mournfully in those polluted halls; +But she was calm and sad, musing alway _2860 +On loftiest enterprise, till on a day +The Tyrant heard her singing to her lute +A wild, and sad, and spirit-thrilling lay, +Like winds that die in wastes—one moment mute +The evil thoughts it made, which did his breast pollute. _2865 + +5. +Even when he saw her wondrous loveliness, +One moment to great Nature’s sacred power +He bent, and was no longer passionless; +But when he bade her to his secret bower +Be borne, a loveless victim, and she tore _2870 +Her locks in agony, and her words of flame +And mightier looks availed not; then he bore +Again his load of slavery, and became +A king, a heartless beast, a pageant and a name. + +6. +She told me what a loathsome agony _2875 +Is that when selfishness mocks love’s delight, +Foul as in dream’s most fearful imagery, +To dally with the mowing dead—that night +All torture, fear, or horror made seem light +Which the soul dreams or knows, and when the day _2880 +Shone on her awful frenzy, from the sight +Where like a Spirit in fleshly chains she lay +Struggling, aghast and pale the Tyrant fled away. + +7. +Her madness was a beam of light, a power +Which dawned through the rent soul; and words it gave, _2885 +Gestures and looks, such as in whirlwinds bore +Which might not be withstood—whence none could save— +All who approached their sphere,—like some calm wave +Vexed into whirlpools by the chasms beneath; +And sympathy made each attendant slave _2890 +Fearless and free, and they began to breathe +Deep curses, like the voice of flames far underneath. + +8. +The King felt pale upon his noonday throne: +At night two slaves he to her chamber sent,— +One was a green and wrinkled eunuch, grown _2895 +From human shape into an instrument +Of all things ill—distorted, bowed and bent. +The other was a wretch from infancy +Made dumb by poison; who nought knew or meant +But to obey: from the fire isles came he, _2900 +A diver lean and strong, of Oman’s coral sea. + +9. +They bore her to a bark, and the swift stroke +Of silent rowers clove the blue moonlight seas, +Until upon their path the morning broke; +They anchored then, where, be there calm or breeze, _2905 +The gloomiest of the drear Symplegades +Shakes with the sleepless surge;—the Ethiop there +Wound his long arms around her, and with knees +Like iron clasped her feet, and plunged with her +Among the closing waves out of the boundless air. _2910 + +10. +‘Swift as an eagle stooping from the plain +Of morning light, into some shadowy wood, +He plunged through the green silence of the main, +Through many a cavern which the eternal flood +Had scooped, as dark lairs for its monster brood; _2915 +And among mighty shapes which fled in wonder, +And among mightier shadows which pursued +His heels, he wound: until the dark rocks under +He touched a golden chain—a sound arose like thunder. + +11. +‘A stunning clang of massive bolts redoubling _2920 +Beneath the deep—a burst of waters driven +As from the roots of the sea, raging and bubbling: +And in that roof of crags a space was riven +Through which there shone the emerald beams of heaven, +Shot through the lines of many waves inwoven, _2925 +Like sunlight through acacia woods at even, +Through which, his way the diver having cloven, +Passed like a spark sent up out of a burning oven. + +12. +‘And then,’ she said, ‘he laid me in a cave +Above the waters, by that chasm of sea, _2930 +A fountain round and vast, in which the wave +Imprisoned, boiled and leaped perpetually, +Down which, one moment resting, he did flee, +Winning the adverse depth; that spacious cell +Like an hupaithric temple wide and high, _2935 +Whose aery dome is inaccessible, +Was pierced with one round cleft through which the sunbeams fell. + +13. +‘Below, the fountain’s brink was richly paven +With the deep’s wealth, coral, and pearl, and sand +Like spangling gold, and purple shells engraven _2940 +With mystic legends by no mortal hand, +Left there, when thronging to the moon’s command, +The gathering waves rent the Hesperian gate +Of mountains, and on such bright floor did stand +Columns, and shapes like statues, and the state _2945 +Of kingless thrones, which Earth did in her heart create. + +14. +‘The fiend of madness which had made its prey +Of my poor heart, was lulled to sleep awhile: +There was an interval of many a day, +And a sea-eagle brought me food the while, _2950 +Whose nest was built in that untrodden isle, +And who, to be the gaoler had been taught +Of that strange dungeon; as a friend whose smile +Like light and rest at morn and even is sought +That wild bird was to me, till madness misery brought. _2955 + +15. +‘The misery of a madness slow and creeping, +Which made the earth seem fire, the sea seem air, +And the white clouds of noon which oft were sleeping, +In the blue heaven so beautiful and fair, +Like hosts of ghastly shadows hovering there; _2960 +And the sea-eagle looked a fiend, who bore +Thy mangled limbs for food!—Thus all things were +Transformed into the agony which I wore +Even as a poisoned robe around my bosom’s core. + +16. +‘Again I knew the day and night fast fleeing, _2965 +The eagle, and the fountain, and the air; +Another frenzy came—there seemed a being +Within me—a strange load my heart did bear, +As if some living thing had made its lair +Even in the fountains of my life:—a long _2970 +And wondrous vision wrought from my despair, +Then grew, like sweet reality among +Dim visionary woes, an unreposing throng. + +17. +‘Methought I was about to be a mother— +Month after month went by, and still I dreamed _2975 +That we should soon be all to one another, +I and my child; and still new pulses seemed +To beat beside my heart, and still I deemed +There was a babe within—and, when the rain +Of winter through the rifted cavern streamed, _2980 +Methought, after a lapse of lingering pain, +I saw that lovely shape, which near my heart had lain. + +18. +‘It was a babe, beautiful from its birth,— +It was like thee, dear love, its eyes were thine, +Its brow, its lips, and so upon the earth _2985 +It laid its fingers, as now rest on mine +Thine own, beloved!—’twas a dream divine; +Even to remember how it fled, how swift, +How utterly, might make the heart repine,— +Though ’twas a dream.’—Then Cythna did uplift _2990 +Her looks on mine, as if some doubt she sought to shift: + +19. +A doubt which would not flee, a tenderness +Of questioning grief, a source of thronging tears; +Which having passed, as one whom sobs oppress +She spoke: ‘Yes, in the wilderness of years _2995 +Her memory, aye, like a green home appears; +She sucked her fill even at this breast, sweet love, +For many months. I had no mortal fears; +Methought I felt her lips and breath approve,— +It was a human thing which to my bosom clove. _3000 + +20. +‘I watched the dawn of her first smiles; and soon +When zenith stars were trembling on the wave, +Or when the beams of the invisible moon, +Or sun, from many a prism within the cave +Their gem-born shadows to the water gave, _3005 +Her looks would hunt them, and with outspread hand, +From the swift lights which might that fountain pave, +She would mark one, and laugh, when that command +Slighting, it lingered there, and could not understand. + +21. +‘Methought her looks began to talk with me; _3010 +And no articulate sounds, but something sweet +Her lips would frame,—so sweet it could not be, +That it was meaningless; her touch would meet +Mine, and our pulses calmly flow and beat +In response while we slept; and on a day _3015 +When I was happiest in that strange retreat, +With heaps of golden shells we two did play,— +Both infants, weaving wings for time’s perpetual way. + +22. +‘Ere night, methought, her waning eyes were grown +Weary with joy, and tired with our delight, _3020 +We, on the earth, like sister twins lay down +On one fair mother’s bosom:—from that night +She fled,—like those illusions clear and bright, +Which dwell in lakes, when the red moon on high +Pause ere it wakens tempest;—and her flight, _3025 +Though ’twas the death of brainless fantasy, +Yet smote my lonesome heart more than all misery. + +23. +‘It seemed that in the dreary night the diver +Who brought me thither, came again, and bore +My child away. I saw the waters quiver, _3030 +When he so swiftly sunk, as once before: +Then morning came—it shone even as of yore, +But I was changed—the very life was gone +Out of my heart—I wasted more and more, +Day after day, and sitting there alone, _3035 +Vexed the inconstant waves with my perpetual moan. + +24. +‘I was no longer mad, and yet methought +My breasts were swoln and changed:—in every vein +The blood stood still one moment, while that thought +Was passing—with a gush of sickening pain _3040 +It ebbed even to its withered springs again: +When my wan eyes in stern resolve I turned +From that most strange delusion, which would fain +Have waked the dream for which my spirit yearned +With more than human love,—then left it unreturned. _3045 + +25. +‘So now my reason was restored to me +I struggled with that dream, which, like a beast +Most fierce and beauteous, in my memory +Had made its lair, and on my heart did feast; +But all that cave and all its shapes, possessed _3050 +By thoughts which could not fade, renewed each one +Some smile, some look, some gesture which had blessed +Me heretofore: I, sitting there alone, +Vexed the inconstant waves with my perpetual moan. + +26. +‘Time passed, I know not whether months or years; _3055 +For day, nor night, nor change of seasons made +Its note, but thoughts and unavailing tears: +And I became at last even as a shade, +A smoke, a cloud on which the winds have preyed, +Till it be thin as air; until, one even, _3060 +A Nautilus upon the fountain played, +Spreading his azure sail where breath of Heaven +Descended not, among the waves and whirlpools driven. + +27. +‘And, when the Eagle came, that lovely thing, +Oaring with rosy feet its silver boat, _3065 +Fled near me as for shelter; on slow wing, +The Eagle, hovering o’er his prey did float; +But when he saw that I with fear did note +His purpose, proffering my own food to him, +The eager plumes subsided on his throat— _3070 +He came where that bright child of sea did swim, +And o’er it cast in peace his shadow broad and dim. + +28. +‘This wakened me, it gave me human strength; +And hope, I know not whence or wherefore, rose, +But I resumed my ancient powers at length; _3075 +My spirit felt again like one of those +Like thine, whose fate it is to make the woes +Of humankind their prey—what was this cave? +Its deep foundation no firm purpose knows +Immutable, resistless, strong to save, _3080 +Like mind while yet it mocks the all-devouring grave. + +29. +‘And where was Laon? might my heart be dead, +While that far dearer heart could move and be? +Or whilst over the earth the pall was spread, +Which I had sworn to rend? I might be free, _3085 +Could I but win that friendly bird to me, +To bring me ropes; and long in vain I sought +By intercourse of mutual imagery +Of objects, if such aid he could be taught; +But fruit, and flowers, and boughs, yet never ropes he brought. _3090 + +30. +‘We live in our own world, and mine was made +From glorious fantasies of hope departed: +Aye we are darkened with their floating shade, +Or cast a lustre on them—time imparted +Such power to me—I became fearless-hearted, _3095 +My eye and voice grew firm, calm was my mind, +And piercing, like the morn, now it has darted +Its lustre on all hidden things, behind +Yon dim and fading clouds which load the weary wind. + +31. +‘My mind became the book through which I grew _3100 +Wise in all human wisdom, and its cave, +Which like a mine I rifled through and through, +To me the keeping of its secrets gave— +One mind, the type of all, the moveless wave +Whose calm reflects all moving things that are, _3105 +Necessity, and love, and life, the grave, +And sympathy, fountains of hope and fear, +Justice, and truth, and time, and the world’s natural sphere. + +32. +‘And on the sand would I make signs to range +These woofs, as they were woven, of my thought; _3110 +Clear, elemental shapes, whose smallest change +A subtler language within language wrought: +The key of truths which once were dimly taught +In old Crotona;—and sweet melodies +Of love, in that lorn solitude I caught _3115 +From mine own voice in dream, when thy dear eyes +Shone through my sleep, and did that utterance harmonize. + +33. +‘Thy songs were winds whereon I fled at will, +As in a winged chariot, o’er the plain +Of crystal youth; and thou wert there to fill _3120 +My heart with joy, and there we sate again +On the gray margin of the glimmering main, +Happy as then but wiser far, for we +Smiled on the flowery grave in which were lain +Fear, Faith and Slavery; and mankind was free, _3125 +Equal, and pure, and wise, in Wisdom’s prophecy. + +34. +‘For to my will my fancies were as slaves +To do their sweet and subtile ministries; +And oft from that bright fountain’s shadowy waves +They would make human throngs gather and rise _3130 +To combat with my overflowing eyes, +And voice made deep with passion—thus I grew +Familiar with the shock and the surprise +And war of earthly minds, from which I drew +The power which has been mine to frame their thoughts anew. _3135 + +35. +‘And thus my prison was the populous earth— +Where I saw—even as misery dreams of morn +Before the east has given its glory birth— +Religion’s pomp made desolate by the scorn +Of Wisdom’s faintest smile, and thrones uptorn, _3140 +And dwellings of mild people interspersed +With undivided fields of ripening corn, +And love made free,—a hope which we have nursed +Even with our blood and tears,—until its glory burst. + +36. +‘All is not lost! There is some recompense _3145 +For hope whose fountain can be thus profound, +Even throned Evil’s splendid impotence, +Girt by its hell of power, the secret sound +Of hymns to truth and freedom—the dread bound +Of life and death passed fearlessly and well, _3150 +Dungeons wherein the high resolve is found, +Racks which degraded woman’s greatness tell, +And what may else be good and irresistible. + +37. +‘Such are the thoughts which, like the fires that flare +In storm-encompassed isles, we cherish yet _3155 +In this dark ruin—such were mine even there; +As in its sleep some odorous violet, +While yet its leaves with nightly dews are wet, +Breathes in prophetic dreams of day’s uprise, +Or as, ere Scythian frost in fear has met _3160 +Spring’s messengers descending from the skies, +The buds foreknow their life—this hope must ever rise. + +38. +‘So years had passed, when sudden earthquake rent +The depth of ocean, and the cavern cracked +With sound, as if the world’s wide continent _3165 +Had fallen in universal ruin wracked: +And through the cleft streamed in one cataract +The stifling waters—when I woke, the flood +Whose banded waves that crystal cave had sacked +Was ebbing round me, and my bright abode _3170 +Before me yawned—a chasm desert, and bare, and broad. + +39. +‘Above me was the sky, beneath the sea: +I stood upon a point of shattered stone, +And heard loose rocks rushing tumultuously +With splash and shock into the deep—anon _3175 +All ceased, and there was silence wide and lone. +I felt that I was free! The Ocean-spray +Quivered beneath my feet, the broad Heaven shone +Around, and in my hair the winds did play +Lingering as they pursued their unimpeded way. _3180 + +40. +‘My spirit moved upon the sea like wind +Which round some thymy cape will lag and hover, +Though it can wake the still cloud, and unbind +The strength of tempest: day was almost over, +When through the fading light I could discover _3185 +A ship approaching—its white sails were fed +With the north wind—its moving shade did cover +The twilight deep; the mariners in dread +Cast anchor when they saw new rocks around them spread. + +41. +‘And when they saw one sitting on a crag, _3190 +They sent a boat to me;—the Sailors rowed +In awe through many a new and fearful jag +Of overhanging rock, through which there flowed +The foam of streams that cannot make abode. +They came and questioned me, but when they heard _3195 +My voice, they became silent, and they stood +And moved as men in whom new love had stirred +Deep thoughts: so to the ship we passed without a word. + + +NOTES: +_2877 dreams edition 1818. +_2994 opprest edition 1818. +_3115 lone solitude edition 1818. + + +CANTO 8. + +1. +‘I sate beside the Steersman then, and gazing +Upon the west, cried, “Spread the sails! Behold! _3200 +The sinking moon is like a watch-tower blazing +Over the mountains yet;—the City of Gold +Yon Cape alone does from the sight withhold; +The stream is fleet—the north breathes steadily +Beneath the stars; they tremble with the cold! _3205 +Ye cannot rest upon the dreary sea!— +Haste, haste to the warm home of happier destiny!” + +2. +‘The Mariners obeyed—the Captain stood +Aloof, and, whispering to the Pilot, said, +“Alas, alas! I fear we are pursued _3210 +By wicked ghosts; a Phantom of the Dead, +The night before we sailed, came to my bed +In dream, like that!” The Pilot then replied, +“It cannot be—she is a human Maid— +Her low voice makes you weep—she is some bride, _3215 +Or daughter of high birth—she can be nought beside.” + +3. +‘We passed the islets, borne by wind and stream, +And as we sailed, the Mariners came near +And thronged around to listen;—in the gleam +Of the pale moon I stood, as one whom fear _3220 +May not attaint, and my calm voice did rear; +“Ye are all human—yon broad moon gives light +To millions who the selfsame likeness wear, +Even while I speak—beneath this very night, +Their thoughts flow on like ours, in sadness or delight. _3225 + +4. +‘“What dream ye? Your own hands have built an home, +Even for yourselves on a beloved shore: +For some, fond eyes are pining till they come, +How they will greet him when his toils are o’er, +And laughing babes rush from the well-known door! _3230 +Is this your care? ye toil for your own good— +Ye feel and think—has some immortal power +Such purposes? or in a human mood, +Dream ye some Power thus builds for man in solitude? + +5. +‘“What is that Power? Ye mock yourselves, and give _3235 +A human heart to what ye cannot know: +As if the cause of life could think and live! +’Twere as if man’s own works should feel, and show +The hopes, and fears, and thoughts from which they flow, +And he be like to them! Lo! Plague is free _3240 +To waste, Blight, Poison, Earthquake, Hail, and Snow, +Disease, and Want, and worse Necessity +Of hate and ill, and Pride, and Fear, and Tyranny! + +6. +‘“What is that Power? Some moon-struck sophist stood +Watching the shade from his own soul upthrown _3245 +Fill Heaven and darken Earth, and in such mood +The Form he saw and worshipped was his own, +His likeness in the world’s vast mirror shown; +And ’twere an innocent dream, but that a faith +Nursed by fear’s dew of poison, grows thereon, _3250 +And that men say, that Power has chosen Death +On all who scorn its laws, to wreak immortal wrath. + +7. +‘“Men say that they themselves have heard and seen, +Or known from others who have known such things, +A Shade, a Form, which Earth and Heaven between _3255 +Wields an invisible rod—that Priests and Kings, +Custom, domestic sway, ay, all that brings +Man’s freeborn soul beneath the oppressor’s heel, +Are his strong ministers, and that the stings +Of death will make the wise his vengeance feel, _3260 +Though truth and virtue arm their hearts with tenfold steel. + +8. +‘“And it is said, this Power will punish wrong; +Yes, add despair to crime, and pain to pain! +And deepest hell, and deathless snakes among, +Will bind the wretch on whom is fixed a stain, _3265 +Which, like a plague, a burden, and a bane, +Clung to him while he lived; for love and hate, +Virtue and vice, they say are difference vain— +The will of strength is right—this human state +Tyrants, that they may rule, with lies thus desolate. _3270 + +9. +‘“Alas, what strength? Opinion is more frail +Than yon dim cloud now fading on the moon +Even while we gaze, though it awhile avail +To hide the orb of truth—and every throne +Of Earth or Heaven, though shadow, rests thereon, _3275 +One shape of many names:—for this ye plough +The barren waves of ocean, hence each one +Is slave or tyrant; all betray and bow, +Command, or kill, or fear, or wreak, or suffer woe. + +10. +‘“Its names are each a sign which maketh holy _3280 +All power—ay, the ghost, the dream, the shade +Of power—lust, falsehood, hate, and pride, and folly; +The pattern whence all fraud and wrong is made, +A law to which mankind has been betrayed; +And human love, is as the name well known _3285 +Of a dear mother, whom the murderer laid +In bloody grave, and into darkness thrown, +Gathered her wildered babes around him as his own. + +11. +‘“O Love, who to the hearts of wandering men +Art as the calm to Ocean’s weary waves! _3290 +Justice, or Truth, or Joy! those only can +From slavery and religion’s labyrinth caves +Guide us, as one clear star the seaman saves. +To give to all an equal share of good, +To track the steps of Freedom, though through graves _3295 +She pass, to suffer all in patient mood, +To weep for crime, though stained with thy friend’s dearest blood,— + +12. +‘“To feel the peace of self-contentment’s lot, +To own all sympathies, and outrage none, +And in the inmost bowers of sense and thought, _3300 +Until life’s sunny day is quite gone down, +To sit and smile with Joy, or, not alone, +To kiss salt tears from the worn cheek of Woe; +To live, as if to love and live were one,— +This is not faith or law, nor those who bow _3305 +To thrones on Heaven or Earth, such destiny may know. + +13. +‘“But children near their parents tremble now, +Because they must obey—one rules another, +And as one Power rules both high and low, +So man is made the captive of his brother, _3310 +And Hate is throned on high with Fear her mother, +Above the Highest—and those fountain-cells, +Whence love yet flowed when faith had choked all other, +Are darkened—Woman as the bond-slave dwells +Of man, a slave; and life is poisoned in its wells. _3315 + +14. +‘“Man seeks for gold in mines, that he may weave +A lasting chain for his own slavery;— +In fear and restless care that he may live +He toils for others, who must ever be +The joyless thralls of like captivity; _3320 +He murders, for his chiefs delight in ruin; +He builds the altar, that its idol’s fee +May be his very blood; he is pursuing— +O, blind and willing wretch!—his own obscure undoing. + +15. +‘“Woman!—she is his slave, she has become _3325 +A thing I weep to speak—the child of scorn, +The outcast of a desolated home; +Falsehood, and fear, and toil, like waves have worn +Channels upon her cheek, which smiles adorn, +As calm decks the false Ocean:—well ye know _3330 +What Woman is, for none of Woman born +Can choose but drain the bitter dregs of woe, +Which ever from the oppressed to the oppressors flow. + +16. +‘“This need not be; ye might arise, and will +That gold should lose its power, and thrones their glory; _3335 +That love, which none may bind, be free to fill +The world, like light; and evil faith, grown hoary +With crime, be quenched and die.—Yon promontory +Even now eclipses the descending moon!— +Dungeons and palaces are transitory— _3340 +High temples fade like vapour—Man alone +Remains, whose will has power when all beside is gone. + +17. +‘“Let all be free and equal!—From your hearts +I feel an echo; through my inmost frame +Like sweetest sound, seeking its mate, it darts— _3345 +Whence come ye, friends? Alas, I cannot name +All that I read of sorrow, toil, and shame, +On your worn faces; as in legends old +Which make immortal the disastrous fame +Of conquerors and impostors false and bold, _3350 +The discord of your hearts, I in your looks behold. + +18. +‘“Whence come ye, friends? from pouring human blood +Forth on the earth? Or bring ye steel and gold, +That Kings may dupe and slay the multitude? +Or from the famished poor, pale, weak and cold, _3355 +Bear ye the earnings of their toil? Unfold! +Speak! Are your hands in slaughter’s sanguine hue +Stained freshly? have your hearts in guile grown old? +Know yourselves thus! ye shall be pure as dew, +And I will be a friend and sister unto you. _3360 + +19. +‘“Disguise it not—we have one human heart— +All mortal thoughts confess a common home: +Blush not for what may to thyself impart +Stains of inevitable crime: the doom +Is this, which has, or may, or must become _3365 +Thine, and all humankind’s. Ye are the spoil +Which Time thus marks for the devouring tomb— +Thou and thy thoughts and they, and all the toil +Wherewith ye twine the rings of life’s perpetual coil. + +20. +‘“Disguise it not—ye blush for what ye hate, _3370 +And Enmity is sister unto Shame; +Look on your mind—it is the book of fate— +Ah! it is dark with many a blazoned name +Of misery—all are mirrors of the same; +But the dark fiend who with his iron pen _3375 +Dipped in scorn’s fiery poison, makes his fame +Enduring there, would o’er the heads of men +Pass harmless, if they scorned to make their hearts his den. + +21. +‘“Yes, it is Hate, that shapeless fiendly thing +Of many names, all evil, some divine, _3380 +Whom self-contempt arms with a mortal sting; +Which, when the heart its snaky folds entwine +Is wasted quite, and when it doth repine +To gorge such bitter prey, on all beside +It turns with ninefold rage, as with its twine _3385 +When Amphisbaena some fair bird has tied, +Soon o’er the putrid mass he threats on every side. + +22. +‘“Reproach not thine own soul, but know thyself, +Nor hate another’s crime, nor loathe thine own. +It is the dark idolatry of self, _3390 +Which, when our thoughts and actions once are gone, +Demands that man should weep, and bleed, and groan; +Oh, vacant expiation! Be at rest.— +The past is Death’s, the future is thine own; +And love and joy can make the foulest breast _3395 +A paradise of flowers, where peace might build her nest. + +23. +‘“Speak thou! whence come ye?”—A Youth made reply: +“Wearily, wearily o’er the boundless deep +We sail;—thou readest well the misery +Told in these faded eyes, but much doth sleep _3400 +Within, which there the poor heart loves to keep, +Or dare not write on the dishonoured brow; +Even from our childhood have we learned to steep +The bread of slavery in the tears of woe, +And never dreamed of hope or refuge until now. _3405 + +24. +‘“Yes—I must speak—my secret should have perished +Even with the heart it wasted, as a brand +Fades in the dying flame whose life it cherished, +But that no human bosom can withstand +Thee, wondrous Lady, and the mild command _3410 +Of thy keen eyes:—yes, we are wretched slaves, +Who from their wonted loves and native land +Are reft, and bear o’er the dividing waves +The unregarded prey of calm and happy graves. + +25. +‘“We drag afar from pastoral vales the fairest _3415 +Among the daughters of those mountains lone, +We drag them there, where all things best and rarest +Are stained and trampled:—years have come and gone +Since, like the ship which bears me, I have known +No thought;—but now the eyes of one dear Maid _3420 +On mine with light of mutual love have shone— +She is my life,—I am but as the shade +Of her,—a smoke sent up from ashes, soon to fade. + +26. +‘“For she must perish in the Tyrant’s hall— +Alas, alas!”—He ceased, and by the sail _3425 +Sate cowering—but his sobs were heard by all, +And still before the ocean and the gale +The ship fled fast till the stars ‘gan to fail; +And, round me gathered with mute countenance, +The Seamen gazed, the Pilot, worn and pale _3430 +With toil, the Captain with gray locks, whose glance +Met mine in restless awe—they stood as in a trance. + +27. +‘“Recede not! pause not now! Thou art grown old, +But Hope will make thee young, for Hope and Youth +Are children of one mother, even Love—behold! _3435 +The eternal stars gaze on us!—is the truth +Within your soul? care for your own, or ruth +For others’ sufferings? do ye thirst to bear +A heart which not the serpent Custom’s tooth +May violate?—Be free! and even here, _3440 +Swear to be firm till death!” They cried, “We swear! We swear!” + +28. +‘The very darkness shook, as with a blast +Of subterranean thunder, at the cry; +The hollow shore its thousand echoes cast +Into the night, as if the sea and sky, _3445 +And earth, rejoiced with new-born liberty, +For in that name they swore! Bolts were undrawn, +And on the deck, with unaccustomed eye +The captives gazing stood, and every one +Shrank as the inconstant torch upon her countenance shone. _3450 + +29. +‘They were earth’s purest children, young and fair, +With eyes the shrines of unawakened thought, +And brows as bright as Spring or Morning, ere +Dark time had there its evil legend wrought +In characters of cloud which wither not.— _3455 +The change was like a dream to them; but soon +They knew the glory of their altered lot, +In the bright wisdom of youth’s breathless noon, +Sweet talk, and smiles, and sighs, all bosoms did attune. + +30. +‘But one was mute; her cheeks and lips most fair, _3460 +Changing their hue like lilies newly blown, +Beneath a bright acacia’s shadowy hair, +Waved by the wind amid the sunny noon, +Showed that her soul was quivering; and full soon +That Youth arose, and breathlessly did look _3465 +On her and me, as for some speechless boon: +I smiled, and both their hands in mine I took, +And felt a soft delight from what their spirits shook. + + +CANTO 9. + +1. +‘That night we anchored in a woody bay, +And sleep no more around us dared to hover _3470 +Than, when all doubt and fear has passed away, +It shades the couch of some unresting lover, +Whose heart is now at rest: thus night passed over +In mutual joy:—around, a forest grew +Of poplars and dark oaks, whose shade did cover _3475 +The waning stars pranked in the waters blue, +And trembled in the wind which from the morning flew. + +2. +‘The joyous Mariners, and each free Maiden +Now brought from the deep forest many a bough, +With woodland spoil most innocently laden; _3480 +Soon wreaths of budding foliage seemed to flow +Over the mast and sails, the stern and prow +Were canopied with blooming boughs,—the while +On the slant sun’s path o’er the waves we go +Rejoicing, like the dwellers of an isle _3485 +Doomed to pursue those waves that cannot cease to smile. + +3. +‘The many ships spotting the dark blue deep +With snowy sails, fled fast as ours came nigh, +In fear and wonder; and on every steep +Thousands did gaze, they heard the startling cry, _3490 +Like Earth’s own voice lifted unconquerably +To all her children, the unbounded mirth, +The glorious joy of thy name—Liberty! +They heard!—As o’er the mountains of the earth +From peak to peak leap on the beams of Morning’s birth: _3495 + +4. +‘So from that cry over the boundless hills +Sudden was caught one universal sound, +Like a volcano’s voice, whose thunder fills +Remotest skies,—such glorious madness found +A path through human hearts with stream which drowned _3500 +Its struggling fears and cares, dark Custom’s brood; +They knew not whence it came, but felt around +A wide contagion poured—they called aloud +On Liberty—that name lived on the sunny flood. + +5. +‘We reached the port.—Alas! from many spirits _3505 +The wisdom which had waked that cry, was fled, +Like the brief glory which dark Heaven inherits +From the false dawn, which fades ere it is spread, +Upon the night’s devouring darkness shed: +Yet soon bright day will burst—even like a chasm _3510 +Of fire, to burn the shrouds outworn and dead, +Which wrap the world; a wide enthusiasm, +To cleanse the fevered world as with an earthquake’s spasm! + +6. +‘I walked through the great City then, but free +From shame or fear; those toil-worn Mariners _3515 +And happy Maidens did encompass me; +And like a subterranean wind that stirs +Some forest among caves, the hopes and fears +From every human soul, a murmur strange +Made as I passed; and many wept, with tears _3520 +Of joy and awe, and winged thoughts did range, +And half-extinguished words, which prophesied of change. + +7. +‘For, with strong speech I tore the veil that hid +Nature, and Truth, and Liberty, and Love,— +As one who from some mountain’s pyramid _3525 +Points to the unrisen sun!—the shades approve +His truth, and flee from every stream and grove. +Thus, gentle thoughts did many a bosom fill,— +Wisdom, the mail of tried affections wove +For many a heart, and tameless scorn of ill, _3530 +Thrice steeped in molten steel the unconquerable will. + +8. +‘Some said I was a maniac wild and lost; +Some, that I scarce had risen from the grave, +The Prophet’s virgin bride, a heavenly ghost:— +Some said, I was a fiend from my weird cave, _3535 +Who had stolen human shape, and o’er the wave, +The forest, and the mountain, came;—some said +I was the child of God, sent down to save +Woman from bonds and death, and on my head +The burden of their sins would frightfully be laid. _3540 + +9. +‘But soon my human words found sympathy +In human hearts: the purest and the best, +As friend with friend, made common cause with me, +And they were few, but resolute;—the rest, +Ere yet success the enterprise had blessed, _3545 +Leagued with me in their hearts;—their meals, their slumber, +Their hourly occupations, were possessed +By hopes which I had armed to overnumber +Those hosts of meaner cares, which life’s strong wings encumber. + +10. +‘But chiefly women, whom my voice did waken _3550 +From their cold, careless, willing slavery, +Sought me: one truth their dreary prison has shaken,— +They looked around, and lo! they became free! +Their many tyrants sitting desolately +In slave-deserted halls, could none restrain; _3555 +For wrath’s red fire had withered in the eye, +Whose lightning once was death,—nor fear, nor gain +Could tempt one captive now to lock another’s chain. + +11. +‘Those who were sent to bind me, wept, and felt +Their minds outsoar the bonds which clasped them round, _3560 +Even as a waxen shape may waste and melt +In the white furnace; and a visioned swound, +A pause of hope and awe the City bound, +Which, like the silence of a tempest’s birth, +When in its awful shadow it has wound _3565 +The sun, the wind, the ocean, and the earth, +Hung terrible, ere yet the lightnings have leaped forth. + +12. +‘Like clouds inwoven in the silent sky, +By winds from distant regions meeting there, +In the high name of truth and liberty, _3570 +Around the City millions gathered were, +By hopes which sprang from many a hidden lair,— +Words which the lore of truth in hues of flame +Arrayed, thine own wild songs which in the air +Like homeless odours floated, and the name _3575 +Of thee, and many a tongue which thou hadst dipped in flame. + +13. +‘The Tyrant knew his power was gone, but Fear, +The nurse of Vengeance, bade him wait the event— +That perfidy and custom, gold and prayer, +And whatsoe’er, when force is impotent, _3580 +To fraud the sceptre of the world has lent, +Might, as he judged, confirm his failing sway. +Therefore throughout the streets, the Priests he sent +To curse the rebels.—To their gods did they +For Earthquake, Plague, and Want, kneel in the public way. _3585 + +14. +‘And grave and hoary men were bribed to tell +From seats where law is made the slave of wrong, +How glorious Athens in her splendour fell, +Because her sons were free,—and that among +Mankind, the many to the few belong, _3590 +By Heaven, and Nature, and Necessity. +They said, that age was truth, and that the young +Marred with wild hopes the peace of slavery, +With which old times and men had quelled the vain and free. + +15. +‘And with the falsehood of their poisonous lips _3595 +They breathed on the enduring memory +Of sages and of bards a brief eclipse; +There was one teacher, who necessity +Had armed with strength and wrong against mankind, +His slave and his avenger aye to be; _3600 +That we were weak and sinful, frail and blind, +And that the will of one was peace, and we +Should seek for nought on earth but toil and misery— + +16. +‘“For thus we might avoid the hell hereafter.” +So spake the hypocrites, who cursed and lied; _3605 +Alas, their sway was past, and tears and laughter +Clung to their hoary hair, withering the pride +Which in their hollow hearts dared still abide; +And yet obscener slaves with smoother brow, +And sneers on their strait lips, thin, blue and wide, _3610 +Said that the rule of men was over now, +And hence, the subject world to woman’s will must bow; + +17. +‘And gold was scattered through the streets, and wine +Flowed at a hundred feasts within the wall. +In vain! the steady towers in Heaven did shine _3615 +As they were wont, nor at the priestly call +Left Plague her banquet in the Ethiop’s hall, +Nor Famine from the rich man’s portal came, +Where at her ease she ever preys on all +Who throng to kneel for food: nor fear nor shame, _3620 +Nor faith, nor discord, dimmed hope’s newly kindled flame. + +18. +‘For gold was as a god whose faith began +To fade, so that its worshippers were few, +And Faith itself, which in the heart of man +Gives shape, voice, name, to spectral Terror, knew _3625 +Its downfall, as the altars lonelier grew, +Till the Priests stood alone within the fane; +The shafts of falsehood unpolluting flew, +And the cold sneers of calumny were vain, +The union of the free with discord’s brand to stain. _3630 + +19. +‘The rest thou knowest.—Lo! we two are here— +We have survived a ruin wide and deep— +Strange thoughts are mine.—I cannot grieve or fear, +Sitting with thee upon this lonely steep +I smile, though human love should make me weep. _3635 +We have survived a joy that knows no sorrow, +And I do feel a mighty calmness creep +Over my heart, which can no longer borrow +Its hues from chance or change, dark children of to-morrow. + +20. +‘We know not what will come—yet, Laon, dearest, _3640 +Cythna shall be the prophetess of Love, +Her lips shall rob thee of the grace thou wearest, +To hide thy heart, and clothe the shapes which rove +Within the homeless Future’s wintry grove; +For I now, sitting thus beside thee, seem _3645 +Even with thy breath and blood to live and move, +And violence and wrong are as a dream +Which rolls from steadfast truth, an unreturning stream. + +21. +‘The blasts of Autumn drive the winged seeds +Over the earth,—next come the snows, and rain, _3650 +And frosts, and storms, which dreary Winter leads +Out of his Scythian cave, a savage train; +Behold! Spring sweeps over the world again, +Shedding soft dews from her ethereal wings; +Flowers on the mountains, fruits over the plain, _3655 +And music on the waves and woods she flings, +And love on all that lives, and calm on lifeless things. + +22. +‘O Spring, of hope, and love, and youth, and gladness +Wind-winged emblem! brightest, best and fairest! +Whence comest thou, when, with dark Winter’s sadness _3660 +The tears that fade in sunny smiles thou sharest? +Sister of joy, thou art the child who wearest +Thy mother’s dying smile, tender and sweet; +Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest +Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet, _3665 +Disturbing not the leaves which are her winding-sheet. + +23. +‘Virtue, and Hope, and Love, like light and Heaven, +Surround the world.—We are their chosen slaves. +Has not the whirlwind of our spirit driven +Truth’s deathless germs to thought’s remotest caves? _3670 +Lo, Winter comes!—the grief of many graves, +The frost of death, the tempest of the sword, +The flood of tyranny, whose sanguine waves +Stagnate like ice at Faith the enchanter’s word, +And bind all human hearts in its repose abhorred. _3675 + +24. +‘The seeds are sleeping in the soil: meanwhile +The Tyrant peoples dungeons with his prey, +Pale victims on the guarded scaffold smile +Because they cannot speak; and, day by day, +The moon of wasting Science wanes away _3680 +Among her stars, and in that darkness vast +The sons of earth to their foul idols pray, +And gray Priests triumph, and like blight or blast +A shade of selfish care o’er human looks is cast. + +25. +‘This is the winter of the world;—and here _3685 +We die, even as the winds of Autumn fade, +Expiring in the frore and foggy air. +Behold! Spring comes, though we must pass, who made +The promise of its birth,—even as the shade +Which from our death, as from a mountain, flings _3690 +The future, a broad sunrise; thus arrayed +As with the plumes of overshadowing wings, +From its dark gulf of chains, Earth like an eagle springs. + +26. +‘O dearest love! we shall be dead and cold +Before this morn may on the world arise; _3695 +Wouldst thou the glory of its dawn behold? +Alas! gaze not on me, but turn thine eyes +On thine own heart—it is a paradise +Which everlasting Spring has made its own, +And while drear Winter fills the naked skies, _3700 +Sweet streams of sunny thought, and flowers fresh-blown, +Are there, and weave their sounds and odours into one. + +27. +‘In their own hearts the earnest of the hope +Which made them great, the good will ever find; +And though some envious shade may interlope _3705 +Between the effect and it, One comes behind, +Who aye the future to the past will bind— +Necessity, whose sightless strength for ever +Evil with evil, good with good must wind +In bands of union, which no power may sever: _3710 +They must bring forth their kind, and be divided never! + +28. +‘The good and mighty of departed ages +Are in their graves, the innocent and free, +Heroes, and Poets, and prevailing Sages, +Who leave the vesture of their majesty _3715 +To adorn and clothe this naked world;—and we +Are like to them—such perish, but they leave +All hope, or love, or truth, or liberty, +Whose forms their mighty spirits could conceive, +To be a rule and law to ages that survive. _3720 + +29. +‘So be the turf heaped over our remains +Even in our happy youth, and that strange lot, +Whate’er it be, when in these mingling veins +The blood is still, be ours; let sense and thought +Pass from our being, or be numbered not _3725 +Among the things that are; let those who come +Behind, for whom our steadfast will has bought +A calm inheritance, a glorious doom, +Insult with careless tread, our undivided tomb. + +30. +‘Our many thoughts and deeds, our life and love, _3730 +Our happiness, and all that we have been, +Immortally must live, and burn and move, +When we shall be no more;—the world has seen +A type of peace; and—as some most serene +And lovely spot to a poor maniac’s eye, _3735 +After long years, some sweet and moving scene +Of youthful hope, returning suddenly, +Quells his long madness—thus man shall remember thee. + +31. +‘And Calumny meanwhile shall feed on us, +As worms devour the dead, and near the throne _3740 +And at the altar, most accepted thus +Shall sneers and curses be;—what we have done +None shall dare vouch, though it be truly known; +That record shall remain, when they must pass +Who built their pride on its oblivion; _3745 +And fame, in human hope which sculptured was, +Survive the perished scrolls of unenduring brass. + +32. +‘The while we two, beloved, must depart, +And Sense and Reason, those enchanters fair, +Whose wand of power is hope, would bid the heart _3750 +That gazed beyond the wormy grave despair: +These eyes, these lips, this blood, seems darkly there +To fade in hideous ruin; no calm sleep +Peopling with golden dreams the stagnant air, +Seems our obscure and rotting eyes to steep _3755 +In joy;—but senseless death—a ruin dark and deep! + +33. +‘These are blind fancies—reason cannot know +What sense can neither feel, nor thought conceive; +There is delusion in the world—and woe, +And fear, and pain—we know not whence we live, _3760 +Or why, or how, or what mute Power may give +Their being to each plant, and star, and beast, +Or even these thoughts.—Come near me! I do weave +A chain I cannot break—I am possessed +With thoughts too swift and strong for one lone human breast. _3765 + +34. +‘Yes, yes—thy kiss is sweet, thy lips are warm— +O! willingly, beloved, would these eyes, +Might they no more drink being from thy form, +Even as to sleep whence we again arise, +Close their faint orbs in death: I fear nor prize _3770 +Aught that can now betide, unshared by thee— +Yes, Love when Wisdom fails makes Cythna wise: +Darkness and death, if death be true, must be +Dearer than life and hope, if unenjoyed with thee. + +35. +‘Alas, our thoughts flow on with stream, whose waters _3775 +Return not to their fountain—Earth and Heaven, +The Ocean and the Sun, the Clouds their daughters, +Winter, and Spring, and Morn, and Noon, and Even, +All that we are or know, is darkly driven +Towards one gulf.—Lo! what a change is come _3780 +Since I first spake—but time shall be forgiven, +Though it change all but thee!’—She ceased—night’s gloom +Meanwhile had fallen on earth from the sky’s sunless dome. + +36. +Though she had ceased, her countenance uplifted +To Heaven, still spake, with solemn glory bright; _3785 +Her dark deep eyes, her lips, whose motions gifted +The air they breathed with love, her locks undight. +‘Fair star of life and love,’ I cried, ‘my soul’s delight, +Why lookest thou on the crystalline skies? +O, that my spirit were yon Heaven of night, _3790 +Which gazes on thee with its thousand eyes!’ +She turned to me and smiled—that smile was Paradise! + + +NOTES: +_3573 hues of grace edition 1818. + + +CANTO 10. + +1. +Was there a human spirit in the steed, +That thus with his proud voice, ere night was gone, +He broke our linked rest? or do indeed _3795 +All living things a common nature own, +And thought erect an universal throne, +Where many shapes one tribute ever bear? +And Earth, their mutual mother, does she groan +To see her sons contend? and makes she bare _3800 +Her breast, that all in peace its drainless stores may share? + +2. +I have heard friendly sounds from many a tongue +Which was not human—the lone nightingale +Has answered me with her most soothing song, +Out of her ivy bower, when I sate pale _3805 +With grief, and sighed beneath; from many a dale +The antelopes who flocked for food have spoken +With happy sounds, and motions, that avail +Like man’s own speech; and such was now the token +Of waning night, whose calm by that proud neigh was broken. _3810 + +3. +Each night, that mighty steed bore me abroad, +And I returned with food to our retreat, +And dark intelligence; the blood which flowed +Over the fields, had stained the courser’s feet; +Soon the dust drinks that bitter dew,—then meet _3815 +The vulture, and the wild dog, and the snake, +The wolf, and the hyaena gray, and eat +The dead in horrid truce: their throngs did make +Behind the steed, a chasm like waves in a ship’s wake. + +4. +For, from the utmost realms of earth came pouring _3820 +The banded slaves whom every despot sent +At that throned traitor’s summons; like the roaring +Of fire, whose floods the wild deer circumvent +In the scorched pastures of the South; so bent +The armies of the leagued Kings around _3825 +Their files of steel and flame;—the continent +Trembled, as with a zone of ruin bound, +Beneath their feet, the sea shook with their Navies’ sound. + +5. +From every nation of the earth they came, +The multitude of moving heartless things, _3830 +Whom slaves call men: obediently they came, +Like sheep whom from the fold the shepherd brings +To the stall, red with blood; their many kings +Led them, thus erring, from their native land; +Tartar and Frank, and millions whom the wings _3835 +Of Indian breezes lull, and many a band +The Arctic Anarch sent, and Idumea’s sand, + +6. +Fertile in prodigies and lies;—so there +Strange natures made a brotherhood of ill. +The desert savage ceased to grasp in fear _3840 +His Asian shield and bow, when, at the will +Of Europe’s subtler son, the bolt would kill +Some shepherd sitting on a rock secure; +But smiles of wondering joy his face would fill, +And savage sympathy: those slaves impure, _3845 +Each one the other thus from ill to ill did lure. + +7. +For traitorously did that foul Tyrant robe +His countenance in lies,—even at the hour +When he was snatched from death, then o’er the globe, +With secret signs from many a mountain-tower, _3850 +With smoke by day, and fire by night, the power +Of Kings and Priests, those dark conspirators, +He called:—they knew his cause their own, and swore +Like wolves and serpents to their mutual wars +Strange truce, with many a rite which Earth and Heaven abhors. _3855 + +8. +Myriads had come—millions were on their way; +The Tyrant passed, surrounded by the steel +Of hired assassins, through the public way, +Choked with his country’s dead:—his footsteps reel +On the fresh blood—he smiles. ‘Ay, now I feel _3860 +I am a King in truth!’ he said, and took +His royal seat, and bade the torturing wheel +Be brought, and fire, and pincers, and the hook, +And scorpions, that his soul on its revenge might look. + +9. +‘But first, go slay the rebels—why return _3865 +The victor bands?’ he said, ‘millions yet live, +Of whom the weakest with one word might turn +The scales of victory yet;—let none survive +But those within the walls—each fifth shall give +The expiation for his brethren here.— _3870 +Go forth, and waste and kill!’—‘O king, forgive +My speech,’ a soldier answered—‘but we fear +The spirits of the night, and morn is drawing near; + +10. +‘For we were slaying still without remorse, +And now that dreadful chief beneath my hand _3875 +Defenceless lay, when on a hell-black horse, +An Angel bright as day, waving a brand +Which flashed among the stars, passed.’—‘Dost thou stand +Parleying with me, thou wretch?’ the king replied; +‘Slaves, bind him to the wheel; and of this band, _3880 +Whoso will drag that woman to his side +That scared him thus, may burn his dearest foe beside; + +11. +‘And gold and glory shall be his.—Go forth!’ +They rushed into the plain.—Loud was the roar +Of their career: the horsemen shook the earth; _3885 +The wheeled artillery’s speed the pavement tore; +The infantry, file after file, did pour +Their clouds on the utmost hills. Five days they slew +Among the wasted fields; the sixth saw gore +Stream through the city; on the seventh, the dew _3890 +Of slaughter became stiff, and there was peace anew: + +12. +Peace in the desert fields and villages, +Between the glutted beasts and mangled dead! +Peace in the silent streets! save when the cries +Of victims to their fiery judgement led, _3895 +Made pale their voiceless lips who seemed to dread +Even in their dearest kindred, lest some tongue +Be faithless to the fear yet unbetrayed; +Peace in the Tyrant’s palace, where the throng +Waste the triumphal hours in festival and song! _3900 + +13. +Day after day the burning sun rolled on +Over the death-polluted land—it came +Out of the east like fire, and fiercely shone +A lamp of Autumn, ripening with its flame +The few lone ears of corn;—the sky became _3905 +Stagnate with heat, so that each cloud and blast +Languished and died,—the thirsting air did claim +All moisture, and a rotting vapour passed +From the unburied dead, invisible and fast. + +14. +First Want, then Plague came on the beasts; their food _3910 +Failed, and they drew the breath of its decay. +Millions on millions, whom the scent of blood +Had lured, or who, from regions far away, +Had tracked the hosts in festival array, +From their dark deserts; gaunt and wasting now, _3915 +Stalked like fell shades among their perished prey; +In their green eyes a strange disease did glow, +They sank in hideous spasm, or pains severe and slow. + +15. +The fish were poisoned in the streams; the birds +In the green woods perished; the insect race _3920 +Was withered up; the scattered flocks and herds +Who had survived the wild beasts’ hungry chase +Died moaning, each upon the other’s face +In helpless agony gazing; round the City +All night, the lean hyaenas their sad case _3925 +Like starving infants wailed; a woeful ditty! +And many a mother wept, pierced with unnatural pity. + +16. +Amid the aereal minarets on high, +The Ethiopian vultures fluttering fell +From their long line of brethren in the sky, _3930 +Startling the concourse of mankind.—Too well +These signs the coming mischief did foretell:— +Strange panic first, a deep and sickening dread +Within each heart, like ice, did sink and dwell, +A voiceless thought of evil, which did spread _3935 +With the quick glance of eyes, like withering lightnings shed. + +17. +Day after day, when the year wanes, the frosts +Strip its green crown of leaves, till all is bare; +So on those strange and congregated hosts +Came Famine, a swift shadow, and the air _3940 +Groaned with the burden of a new despair; +Famine, than whom Misrule no deadlier daughter +Feeds from her thousand breasts, though sleeping there +With lidless eyes, lie Faith, and Plague, and Slaughter, +A ghastly brood; conceived of Lethe’s sullen water. _3945 + +18. +There was no food, the corn was trampled down, +The flocks and herds had perished; on the shore +The dead and putrid fish were ever thrown; +The deeps were foodless, and the winds no more +Creaked with the weight of birds, but, as before _3950 +Those winged things sprang forth, were void of shade; +The vines and orchards, Autumn’s golden store, +Were burned;—so that the meanest food was weighed +With gold, and Avarice died before the god it made. + +19. +There was no corn—in the wide market-place _3955 +All loathliest things, even human flesh, was sold; +They weighed it in small scales—and many a face +Was fixed in eager horror then: his gold +The miser brought; the tender maid, grown bold +Through hunger, bared her scorned charms in vain; _3960 +The mother brought her eldest born, controlled +By instinct blind as love, but turned again +And bade her infant suck, and died in silent pain. + +20. +Then fell blue Plague upon the race of man. +‘O, for the sheathed steel, so late which gave _3965 +Oblivion to the dead, when the streets ran +With brothers’ blood! O, that the earthquake’s grave +Would gape, or Ocean lift its stifling wave!’ +Vain cries—throughout the streets thousands pursued +Each by his fiery torture howl and rave, _3970 +Or sit in frenzy’s unimagined mood, +Upon fresh heaps of dead; a ghastly multitude. + +21. +It was not hunger now, but thirst. Each well +Was choked with rotting corpses, and became +A cauldron of green mist made visible _3975 +At sunrise. Thither still the myriads came, +Seeking to quench the agony of the flame, +Which raged like poison through their bursting veins; +Naked they were from torture, without shame, +Spotted with nameless scars and lurid blains, _3980 +Childhood, and youth, and age, writhing in savage pains. + +22. +It was not thirst, but madness! Many saw +Their own lean image everywhere, it went +A ghastlier self beside them, till the awe +Of that dread sight to self-destruction sent _3985 +Those shrieking victims; some, ere life was spent, +Sought, with a horrid sympathy, to shed +Contagion on the sound; and others rent +Their matted hair, and cried aloud, ‘We tread +On fire! the avenging Power his hell on earth has spread!’ _3990 + +23. +Sometimes the living by the dead were hid. +Near the great fountain in the public square, +Where corpses made a crumbling pyramid +Under the sun, was heard one stifled prayer +For life, in the hot silence of the air; _3995 +And strange ’twas, amid that hideous heap to see +Some shrouded in their long and golden hair, +As if not dead, but slumbering quietly +Like forms which sculptors carve, then love to agony. + +24. +Famine had spared the palace of the king:— _4000 +He rioted in festival the while, +He and his guards and priests; but Plague did fling +One shadow upon all. Famine can smile +On him who brings it food, and pass, with guile +Of thankful falsehood, like a courtier gray, _4005 +The house-dog of the throne; but many a mile +Comes Plague, a winged wolf, who loathes alway +The garbage and the scum that strangers make her prey. + +25. +So, near the throne, amid the gorgeous feast, +Sheathed in resplendent arms, or loosely dight _4010 +To luxury, ere the mockery yet had ceased +That lingered on his lips, the warrior’s might +Was loosened, and a new and ghastlier night +In dreams of frenzy lapped his eyes; he fell +Headlong, or with stiff eyeballs sate upright _4015 +Among the guests, or raving mad did tell +Strange truths; a dying seer of dark oppression’s hell. + +26. +The Princes and the Priests were pale with terror; +That monstrous faith wherewith they ruled mankind, +Fell, like a shaft loosed by the bowman’s error, _4020 +On their own hearts: they sought and they could find +No refuge—’twas the blind who led the blind! +So, through the desolate streets to the high fane, +The many-tongued and endless armies wind +In sad procession: each among the train _4025 +To his own Idol lifts his supplications vain. + +27. +‘O God!’ they cried, ‘we know our secret pride +Has scorned thee, and thy worship, and thy name; +Secure in human power we have defied +Thy fearful might; we bend in fear and shame _4030 +Before thy presence; with the dust we claim +Kindred; be merciful, O King of Heaven! +Most justly have we suffered for thy fame +Made dim, but be at length our sins forgiven, +Ere to despair and death thy worshippers be driven. _4035 + +28. +‘O King of Glory! thou alone hast power! +Who can resist thy will? who can restrain +Thy wrath, when on the guilty thou dost shower +The shafts of thy revenge, a blistering rain? +Greatest and best, be merciful again! _4040 +Have we not stabbed thine enemies, and made +The Earth an altar, and the Heavens a fane, +Where thou wert worshipped with their blood, and laid +Those hearts in dust which would thy searchless works have weighed? + +29. +‘Well didst thou loosen on this impious City _4045 +Thine angels of revenge: recall them now; +Thy worshippers, abased, here kneel for pity, +And bind their souls by an immortal vow: +We swear by thee! and to our oath do thou +Give sanction, from thine hell of fiends and flame, _4050 +That we will kill with fire and torments slow, +The last of those who mocked thy holy name, +And scorned the sacred laws thy prophets did proclaim.’ + +30. +Thus they with trembling limbs and pallid lips +Worshipped their own hearts’ image, dim and vast, _4055 +Scared by the shade wherewith they would eclipse +The light of other minds;—troubled they passed +From the great Temple;—fiercely still and fast +The arrows of the plague among them fell, +And they on one another gazed aghast, _4060 +And through the hosts contention wild befell, +As each of his own god the wondrous works did tell. + +31. +And Oromaze, Joshua, and Mahomet, +Moses, and Buddh, Zerdusht, and Brahm, and Foh, +A tumult of strange names, which never met _4065 +Before, as watchwords of a single woe, +Arose; each raging votary ‘gan to throw +Aloft his armed hands, and each did howl +‘Our God alone is God!’—and slaughter now +Would have gone forth, when from beneath a cowl _4070 +A voice came forth, which pierced like ice through every soul. + +32. +’Twas an Iberian Priest from whom it came, +A zealous man, who led the legioned West, +With words which faith and pride had steeped in flame, +To quell the unbelievers; a dire guest _4075 +Even to his friends was he, for in his breast +Did hate and guile lie watchful, intertwined, +Twin serpents in one deep and winding nest; +He loathed all faith beside his own, and pined +To wreak his fear of Heaven in vengeance on mankind. _4080 + +33. +But more he loathed and hated the clear light +Of wisdom and free thought, and more did fear, +Lest, kindled once, its beams might pierce the night, +Even where his Idol stood; for, far and near +Did many a heart in Europe leap to hear _4085 +That faith and tyranny were trampled down; +Many a pale victim, doomed for truth to share +The murderer’s cell, or see, with helpless groan, +The priests his children drag for slaves to serve their own. + +34. +He dared not kill the infidels with fire _4090 +Or steel, in Europe; the slow agonies +Of legal torture mocked his keen desire: +So he made truce with those who did despise +The expiation, and the sacrifice, +That, though detested, Islam’s kindred creed _4095 +Might crush for him those deadlier enemies; +For fear of God did in his bosom breed +A jealous hate of man, an unreposing need. + +35. +‘Peace! Peace!’ he cried, ‘when we are dead, the Day +Of Judgement comes, and all shall surely know _4100 +Whose God is God, each fearfully shall pay +The errors of his faith in endless woe! +But there is sent a mortal vengeance now +On earth, because an impious race had spurned +Him whom we all adore,—a subtle foe, _4105 +By whom for ye this dread reward was earned, +And kingly thrones, which rest on faith, nigh overturned. + +36. +‘Think ye, because ye weep, and kneel, and pray, +That God will lull the pestilence? It rose +Even from beneath his throne, where, many a day, _4110 +His mercy soothed it to a dark repose: +It walks upon the earth to judge his foes; +And what are thou and I, that he should deign +To curb his ghastly minister, or close +The gates of death, ere they receive the twain _4115 +Who shook with mortal spells his undefended reign? + +37. +‘Ay, there is famine in the gulf of hell, +Its giant worms of fire for ever yawn.— +Their lurid eyes are on us! those who fell +By the swift shafts of pestilence ere dawn, _4120 +Are in their jaws! they hunger for the spawn +Of Satan, their own brethren, who were sent +To make our souls their spoil. See! see! they fawn +Like dogs, and they will sleep with luxury spent, +When those detested hearts their iron fangs have rent! _4125 + +38. +‘Our God may then lull Pestilence to sleep:— +Pile high the pyre of expiation now, +A forest’s spoil of boughs, and on the heap +Pour venomous gums, which sullenly and slow, +When touched by flame, shall burn, and melt, and flow, _4130 +A stream of clinging fire,—and fix on high +A net of iron, and spread forth below +A couch of snakes, and scorpions, and the fry +Of centipedes and worms, earth’s hellish progeny! + +39. +‘Let Laon and Laone on that pyre, _4135 +Linked tight with burning brass, perish!—then pray +That, with this sacrifice, the withering ire +Of Heaven may be appeased.’ He ceased, and they +A space stood silent, as far, far away +The echoes of his voice among them died; _4140 +And he knelt down upon the dust, alway +Muttering the curses of his speechless pride, +Whilst shame, and fear, and awe, the armies did divide. + +40. +His voice was like a blast that burst the portal +Of fabled hell; and as he spake, each one _4145 +Saw gape beneath the chasms of fire immortal, +And Heaven above seemed cloven, where, on a throne +Girt round with storms and shadows, sate alone +Their King and Judge—fear killed in every breast +All natural pity then, a fear unknown _4150 +Before, and with an inward fire possessed, +They raged like homeless beasts whom burning woods invest. + +41. +’Twas morn.—At noon the public crier went forth, +Proclaiming through the living and the dead, +‘The Monarch saith, that his great Empire’s worth _4155 +Is set on Laon and Laone’s head: +He who but one yet living here can lead, +Or who the life from both their hearts can wring, +Shall be the kingdom’s heir—a glorious meed! +But he who both alive can hither bring, _4160 +The Princess shall espouse, and reign an equal King.’ + +42. +Ere night the pyre was piled, the net of iron +Was spread above, the fearful couch below; +It overtopped the towers that did environ +That spacious square; for Fear is never slow _4165 +To build the thrones of Hate, her mate and foe; +So, she scourged forth the maniac multitude +To rear this pyramid—tottering and slow, +Plague-stricken, foodless, like lean herds pursued +By gadflies, they have piled the heath, and gums, and wood. _4170 + +43. +Night came, a starless and a moonless gloom. +Until the dawn, those hosts of many a nation +Stood round that pile, as near one lover’s tomb +Two gentle sisters mourn their desolation; +And in the silence of that expectation, _4175 +Was heard on high the reptiles’ hiss and crawl— +It was so deep—save when the devastation +Of the swift pest, with fearful interval, +Marking its path with shrieks, among the crowd would fall. + +44. +Morn came,—among those sleepless multitudes, _4180 +Madness, and Fear, and Plague, and Famine still +Heaped corpse on corpse, as in autumnal woods +The frosts of many a wind with dead leaves fill +Earth’s cold and sullen brooks; in silence, still +The pale survivors stood; ere noon, the fear _4185 +Of Hell became a panic, which did kill +Like hunger or disease, with whispers drear, +As ‘Hush! hark! Come they yet?—Just Heaven! thine hour is near!’ + +45. +And Priests rushed through their ranks, some counterfeiting +The rage they did inspire, some mad indeed _4190 +With their own lies; they said their god was waiting +To see his enemies writhe, and burn, and bleed,— +And that, till then, the snakes of Hell had need +Of human souls:—three hundred furnaces +Soon blazed through the wide City, where, with speed, _4195 +Men brought their infidel kindred to appease +God’s wrath, and, while they burned, knelt round on quivering knees. + +46. +The noontide sun was darkened with that smoke, +The winds of eve dispersed those ashes gray. +The madness which these rites had lulled, awoke _4200 +Again at sunset.—Who shall dare to say +The deeds which night and fear brought forth, or weigh +In balance just the good and evil there? +He might man’s deep and searchless heart display, +And cast a light on those dim labyrinths, where _4205 +Hope, near imagined chasms, is struggling with despair. + +47. +’Tis said, a mother dragged three children then, +To those fierce flames which roast the eyes in the head, +And laughed, and died; and that unholy men, +Feasting like fiends upon the infidel dead, _4210 +Looked from their meal, and saw an Angel tread +The visible floor of Heaven, and it was she! +And, on that night, one without doubt or dread +Came to the fire, and said, ‘Stop, I am he! +Kill me!’—They burned them both with hellish mockery. _4215 + +48. +And, one by one, that night, young maidens came, +Beauteous and calm, like shapes of living stone +Clothed in the light of dreams, and by the flame +Which shrank as overgorged, they laid them down, +And sung a low sweet song, of which alone _4220 +One word was heard, and that was Liberty; +And that some kissed their marble feet, with moan +Like love, and died; and then that they did die +With happy smiles, which sunk in white tranquillity. + + +NOTES: +_3834 native home edition 1818. +_3967 earthquakes edition 1818. +_4176 reptiles’]reptiles edition 1818. + + +CANTO 11. + +1. +She saw me not—she heard me not—alone _4225 +Upon the mountain’s dizzy brink she stood; +She spake not, breathed not, moved not—there was thrown +Over her look, the shadow of a mood +Which only clothes the heart in solitude, +A thought of voiceless depth;—she stood alone, _4230 +Above, the Heavens were spread;—below, the flood +Was murmuring in its caves;—the wind had blown +Her hair apart, through which her eyes and forehead shone. + +2. +A cloud was hanging o’er the western mountains; +Before its blue and moveless depth were flying _4235 +Gray mists poured forth from the unresting fountains +Of darkness in the North:—the day was dying:— +Sudden, the sun shone forth, its beams were lying +Like boiling gold on Ocean, strange to see, +And on the shattered vapours, which defying _4240 +The power of light in vain, tossed restlessly +In the red Heaven, like wrecks in a tempestuous sea. + +3. +It was a stream of living beams, whose bank +On either side by the cloud’s cleft was made; +And where its chasms that flood of glory drank, _4245 +Its waves gushed forth like fire, and as if swayed +By some mute tempest, rolled on HER; the shade +Of her bright image floated on the river +Of liquid light, which then did end and fade— +Her radiant shape upon its verge did shiver; _4250 +Aloft, her flowing hair like strings of flame did quiver. + +4. +I stood beside her, but she saw me not— +She looked upon the sea, and skies, and earth; +Rapture, and love, and admiration wrought +A passion deeper far than tears, or mirth, _4255 +Or speech, or gesture, or whate’er has birth +From common joy; which with the speechless feeling +That led her there united, and shot forth +From her far eyes a light of deep revealing, +All but her dearest self from my regard concealing. _4260 + +5. +Her lips were parted, and the measured breath +Was now heard there;—her dark and intricate eyes +Orb within orb, deeper than sleep or death, +Absorbed the glories of the burning skies, +Which, mingling with her heart’s deep ecstasies, _4265 +Burst from her looks and gestures;—and a light +Of liquid tenderness, like love, did rise +From her whole frame, an atmosphere which quite +Arrayed her in its beams, tremulous and soft and bright. + +6. +She would have clasped me to her glowing frame; _4270 +Those warm and odorous lips might soon have shed +On mine the fragrance and the invisible flame +Which now the cold winds stole;—she would have laid +Upon my languid heart her dearest head; +I might have heard her voice, tender and sweet; _4275 +Her eyes, mingling with mine, might soon have fed +My soul with their own joy.—One moment yet +I gazed—we parted then, never again to meet! + +7. +Never but once to meet on Earth again! +She heard me as I fled—her eager tone _4280 +Sunk on my heart, and almost wove a chain +Around my will to link it with her own, +So that my stern resolve was almost gone. +‘I cannot reach thee! whither dost thou fly? +My steps are faint—Come back, thou dearest one— _4285 +Return, ah me! return!’—The wind passed by +On which those accents died, faint, far, and lingeringly. + +8. +Woe! Woe! that moonless midnight!—Want and Pest +Were horrible, but one more fell doth rear, +As in a hydra’s swarming lair, its crest _4290 +Eminent among those victims—even the Fear +Of Hell: each girt by the hot atmosphere +Of his blind agony, like a scorpion stung +By his own rage upon his burning bier +Of circling coals of fire; but still there clung _4295 +One hope, like a keen sword on starting threads uphung: + +9. +Not death—death was no more refuge or rest; +Not life—it was despair to be!—not sleep, +For fiends and chasms of fire had dispossessed +All natural dreams: to wake was not to weep, _4300 +But to gaze mad and pallid, at the leap +To which the Future, like a snaky scourge, +Or like some tyrant’s eye, which aye doth keep +Its withering beam upon his slaves, did urge +Their steps; they heard the roar of Hell’s sulphureous surge. _4305 + +10. +Each of that multitude, alone, and lost +To sense of outward things, one hope yet knew; +As on a foam-girt crag some seaman tossed +Stares at the rising tide, or like the crew +Whilst now the ship is splitting through and through; _4310 +Each, if the tramp of a far steed was heard, +Started from sick despair, or if there flew +One murmur on the wind, or if some word +Which none can gather yet, the distant crowd has stirred. + +11. +Why became cheeks, wan with the kiss of death, _4315 +Paler from hope? they had sustained despair. +Why watched those myriads with suspended breath +Sleepless a second night? they are not here, +The victims, and hour by hour, a vision drear, +Warm corpses fall upon the clay-cold dead; _4320 +And even in death their lips are wreathed with fear.— +The crowd is mute and moveless—overhead +Silent Arcturus shines—‘Ha! hear’st thou not the tread + +12. +‘Of rushing feet? laughter? the shout, the scream, +Of triumph not to be contained? See! hark! _4325 +They come, they come! give way!’ Alas, ye deem +Falsely—’tis but a crowd of maniacs stark +Driven, like a troop of spectres, through the dark, +From the choked well, whence a bright death-fire sprung, +A lurid earth-star, which dropped many a spark _4330 +From its blue train, and spreading widely, clung +To their wild hair, like mist the topmost pines among. + +13. +And many, from the crowd collected there, +Joined that strange dance in fearful sympathies; +There was the silence of a long despair, _4335 +When the last echo of those terrible cries +Came from a distant street, like agonies +Stifled afar.—Before the Tyrant’s throne +All night his aged Senate sate, their eyes +In stony expectation fixed; when one _4340 +Sudden before them stood, a Stranger and alone. + +14. +Dark Priests and haughty Warriors gazed on him +With baffled wonder, for a hermit’s vest +Concealed his face; but when he spake, his tone, +Ere yet the matter did their thoughts arrest,— _4345 +Earnest, benignant, calm, as from a breast +Void of all hate or terror—made them start; +For as with gentle accents he addressed +His speech to them, on each unwilling heart +Unusual awe did fall—a spirit-quelling dart. _4350 + +15. +‘Ye Princes of the Earth, ye sit aghast +Amid the ruin which yourselves have made, +Yes, Desolation heard your trumpet’s blast, +And sprang from sleep!—dark Terror has obeyed +Your bidding—O, that I whom ye have made _4355 +Your foe, could set my dearest enemy free +From pain and fear! but evil casts a shade, +Which cannot pass so soon, and Hate must be +The nurse and parent still of an ill progeny. + +16. +‘Ye turn to Heaven for aid in your distress; _4360 +Alas, that ye, the mighty and the wise, +Who, if ye dared, might not aspire to less +Than ye conceive of power, should fear the lies +Which thou, and thou, didst frame for mysteries +To blind your slaves:—consider your own thought, _4365 +An empty and a cruel sacrifice +Ye now prepare, for a vain idol wrought +Out of the fears and hate which vain desires have brought. + +17. +‘Ye seek for happiness—alas, the day! +Ye find it not in luxury nor in gold, _4370 +Nor in the fame, nor in the envied sway +For which, O willing slaves to Custom old, +Severe taskmistress! ye your hearts have sold. +Ye seek for peace, and when ye die, to dream +No evil dreams: all mortal things are cold _4375 +And senseless then; if aught survive, I deem +It must be love and joy, for they immortal seem. + +18. +‘Fear not the future, weep not for the past. +Oh, could I win your ears to dare be now +Glorious, and great, and calm! that ye would cast _4380 +Into the dust those symbols of your woe, +Purple, and gold, and steel! that ye would go +Proclaiming to the nations whence ye came, +That Want, and Plague, and Fear, from slavery flow; +And that mankind is free, and that the shame _4385 +Of royalty and faith is lost in freedom’s fame! + +19. +‘If thus, ’tis well—if not, I come to say +That Laon—’ while the Stranger spoke, among +The Council sudden tumult and affray +Arose, for many of those warriors young, _4390 +Had on his eloquent accents fed and hung +Like bees on mountain-flowers; they knew the truth, +And from their thrones in vindication sprung; +The men of faith and law then without ruth +Drew forth their secret steel, and stabbed each ardent youth. _4395 + +20. +They stabbed them in the back and sneered—a slave +Who stood behind the throne, those corpses drew +Each to its bloody, dark, and secret grave; +And one more daring raised his steel anew +To pierce the Stranger. ‘What hast thou to do _4400 +With me, poor wretch?’—Calm, solemn and severe, +That voice unstrung his sinews, and he threw +His dagger on the ground, and pale with fear, +Sate silently—his voice then did the Stranger rear. + +21. +‘It doth avail not that I weep for ye— _4405 +Ye cannot change, since ye are old and gray, +And ye have chosen your lot—your fame must be +A book of blood, whence in a milder day +Men shall learn truth, when ye are wrapped in clay: +Now ye shall triumph. I am Laon’s friend, _4410 +And him to your revenge will I betray, +So ye concede one easy boon. Attend! +For now I speak of things which ye can apprehend. + +22. +‘There is a People mighty in its youth, +A land beyond the Oceans of the West, _4415 +Where, though with rudest rites, Freedom and Truth +Are worshipped; from a glorious Mother’s breast, +Who, since high Athens fell, among the rest +Sate like the Queen of Nations, but in woe, +By inbred monsters outraged and oppressed, _4420 +Turns to her chainless child for succour now, +It draws the milk of Power in Wisdom’s fullest flow. + +23. +‘That land is like an Eagle, whose young gaze +Feeds on the noontide beam, whose golden plume +Floats moveless on the storm, and in the blaze _4425 +Of sunrise gleams when Earth is wrapped in gloom; +An epitaph of glory for the tomb +Of murdered Europe may thy fame be made, +Great People! as the sands shalt thou become; +Thy growth is swift as morn, when night must fade; _4430 +The multitudinous Earth shall sleep beneath thy shade. + +24. +‘Yes, in the desert there is built a home +For Freedom. Genius is made strong to rear +The monuments of man beneath the dome +Of a new Heaven; myriads assemble there, _4435 +Whom the proud lords of man, in rage or fear, +Drive from their wasted homes: the boon I pray +Is this—that Cythna shall be convoyed there— +Nay, start not at the name—America! +And then to you this night Laon will I betray. _4440 + +25. +‘With me do what ye will. I am your foe!’ +The light of such a joy as makes the stare +Of hungry snakes like living emeralds glow, +Shone in a hundred human eyes—‘Where, where +Is Laon? Haste! fly! drag him swiftly here! _4445 +We grant thy boon.’—‘I put no trust in ye, +Swear by the Power ye dread.’—‘We swear, we swear!’ +The Stranger threw his vest back suddenly, +And smiled in gentle pride, and said, ‘Lo! I am he!’ + + +NOTES: +_4321 wreathed]writhed. “Poetical Works” 1839. 1st edition. +_4361 the mighty]tho’ mighty edition 1818. +_4362 ye]he edition 1818. +_4432 there]then edition 1818. + + +CANTO 12. + +1. +The transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness _4450 +Spread through the multitudinous streets, fast flying +Upon the winds of fear; from his dull madness +The starveling waked, and died in joy; the dying, +Among the corpses in stark agony lying, +Just heard the happy tidings, and in hope _4455 +Closed their faint eyes; from house to house replying +With loud acclaim, the living shook Heaven’s cope, +And filled the startled Earth with echoes: morn did ope + +2. +Its pale eyes then; and lo! the long array +Of guards in golden arms, and Priests beside, _4460 +Singing their bloody hymns, whose garbs betray +The blackness of the faith it seems to hide; +And see, the Tyrant’s gem-wrought chariot glide +Among the gloomy cowls and glittering spears— +A Shape of light is sitting by his side, _4465 +A child most beautiful. I’ the midst appears +Laon,—exempt alone from mortal hopes and fears. + +3. +His head and feet are bare, his hands are bound +Behind with heavy chains, yet none do wreak +Their scoffs on him, though myriads throng around; _4470 +There are no sneers upon his lip which speak +That scorn or hate has made him bold; his cheek +Resolve has not turned pale,—his eyes are mild +And calm, and, like the morn about to break, +Smile on mankind—his heart seems reconciled _4475 +To all things and itself, like a reposing child. + +4. +Tumult was in the soul of all beside, +Ill joy, or doubt, or fear; but those who saw +Their tranquil victim pass, felt wonder glide +Into their brain, and became calm with awe.— _4480 +See, the slow pageant near the pile doth draw. +A thousand torches in the spacious square, +Borne by the ready slaves of ruthless law, +Await the signal round: the morning fair +Is changed to a dim night by that unnatural glare. _4485 + +5. +And see! beneath a sun-bright canopy, +Upon a platform level with the pile, +The anxious Tyrant sit, enthroned on high, +Girt by the chieftains of the host; all smile +In expectation, but one child: the while _4490 +I, Laon, led by mutes, ascend my bier +Of fire, and look around: each distant isle +Is dark in the bright dawn; towers far and near, +Pierce like reposing flames the tremulous atmosphere. + +6. +There was such silence through the host, as when _4495 +An earthquake trampling on some populous town, +Has crushed ten thousand with one tread, and men +Expect the second; all were mute but one, +That fairest child, who, bold with love, alone +Stood up before the King, without avail, _4500 +Pleading for Laon’s life—her stifled groan +Was heard—she trembled like one aspen pale +Among the gloomy pines of a Norwegian vale. + +7. +What were his thoughts linked in the morning sun, +Among those reptiles, stingless with delay, _4505 +Even like a tyrant’s wrath?—The signal-gun +Roared—hark, again! In that dread pause he lay +As in a quiet dream—the slaves obey— +A thousand torches drop,—and hark, the last +Bursts on that awful silence; far away, _4510 +Millions, with hearts that beat both loud and fast, +Watch for the springing flame expectant and aghast. + +8. +They fly—the torches fall—a cry of fear +Has startled the triumphant!—they recede! +For, ere the cannon’s roar has died, they hear _4515 +The tramp of hoofs like earthquake, and a steed +Dark and gigantic, with the tempest’s speed, +Bursts through their ranks: a woman sits thereon, +Fairer, it seems, than aught that earth can breed, +Calm, radiant, like the phantom of the dawn, _4520 +A spirit from the caves of daylight wandering gone. + +9. +All thought it was God’s Angel come to sweep +The lingering guilty to their fiery grave; +The Tyrant from his throne in dread did leap,— +Her innocence his child from fear did save; _4525 +Scared by the faith they feigned, each priestly slave +Knelt for his mercy whom they served with blood, +And, like the refluence of a mighty wave +Sucked into the loud sea, the multitude +With crushing panic, fled in terror’s altered mood. _4530 + +10. +They pause, they blush, they gaze,—a gathering shout +Bursts like one sound from the ten thousand streams +Of a tempestuous sea:—that sudden rout +One checked, who, never in his mildest dreams +Felt awe from grace or loveliness, the seams _4535 +Of his rent heart so hard and cold a creed +Had seared with blistering ice—but he misdeems +That he is wise, whose wounds do only bleed +Inly for self,—thus thought the Iberian Priest indeed, + +11. +And others, too, thought he was wise to see, _4540 +In pain, and fear, and hate, something divine; +In love and beauty, no divinity.— +Now with a bitter smile, whose light did shine +Like a fiend’s hope upon his lips and eyne, +He said, and the persuasion of that sneer _4545 +Rallied his trembling comrades—‘Is it mine +To stand alone, when kings and soldiers fear +A woman? Heaven has sent its other victim here.’ + +12. +‘Were it not impious,’ said the King, ‘to break +Our holy oath?’—‘Impious to keep it, say!’ _4550 +Shrieked the exulting Priest:—‘Slaves, to the stake +Bind her, and on my head the burden lay +Of her just torments:—at the Judgement Day +Will I stand up before the golden throne +Of Heaven, and cry, “To Thee did I betray _4555 +An infidel; but for me she would have known +Another moment’s joy! the glory be thine own.”’ + +13. +They trembled, but replied not, nor obeyed, +Pausing in breathless silence. Cythna sprung +From her gigantic steed, who, like a shade _4560 +Chased by the winds, those vacant streets among +Fled tameless, as the brazen rein she flung +Upon his neck, and kissed his mooned brow. +A piteous sight, that one so fair and young, +The clasp of such a fearful death should woo _4565 +With smiles of tender joy as beamed from Cythna now. + +14. +The warm tears burst in spite of faith and fear +From many a tremulous eye, but like soft dews +Which feed Spring’s earliest buds, hung gathered there, +Frozen by doubt,—alas! they could not choose _4570 +But weep; for when her faint limbs did refuse +To climb the pyre, upon the mutes she smiled; +And with her eloquent gestures, and the hues +Of her quick lips, even as a weary child +Wins sleep from some fond nurse with its caresses mild, _4575 + +15. +She won them, though unwilling, her to bind +Near me, among the snakes. When there had fled +One soft reproach that was most thrilling kind, +She smiled on me, and nothing then we said, +But each upon the other’s countenance fed _4580 +Looks of insatiate love; the mighty veil +Which doth divide the living and the dead +Was almost rent, the world grew dim and pale,— +All light in Heaven or Earth beside our love did fail.— + +16. +Yet—yet—one brief relapse, like the last beam _4585 +Of dying flames, the stainless air around +Hung silent and serene—a blood-red gleam +Burst upwards, hurling fiercely from the ground +The globed smoke,—I heard the mighty sound +Of its uprise, like a tempestuous ocean; _4590 +And through its chasms I saw, as in a swound, +The tyrant’s child fall without life or motion +Before his throne, subdued by some unseen emotion.— + +17. +And is this death?—The pyre has disappeared, +The Pestilence, the Tyrant, and the throng; _4595 +The flames grow silent—slowly there is heard +The music of a breath-suspending song, +Which, like the kiss of love when life is young, +Steeps the faint eyes in darkness sweet and deep; +With ever-changing notes it floats along, _4600 +Till on my passive soul there seemed to creep +A melody, like waves on wrinkled sands that leap. + +18. +The warm touch of a soft and tremulous hand +Wakened me then; lo! Cythna sate reclined +Beside me, on the waved and golden sand _4605 +Of a clear pool, upon a bank o’ertwined +With strange and star-bright flowers, which to the wind +Breathed divine odour; high above, was spread +The emerald heaven of trees of unknown kind, +Whose moonlike blooms and bright fruit overhead _4610 +A shadow, which was light, upon the waters shed. + +19. +And round about sloped many a lawny mountain +With incense-bearing forests and vast caves +Of marble radiance, to that mighty fountain; +And where the flood its own bright margin laves, _4615 +Their echoes talk with its eternal waves, +Which, from the depths whose jagged caverns breed +Their unreposing strife, it lifts and heaves,— +Till through a chasm of hills they roll, and feed +A river deep, which flies with smooth but arrowy speed. _4620 + +20. +As we sate gazing in a trance of wonder, +A boat approached, borne by the musical air +Along the waves which sung and sparkled under +Its rapid keel—a winged shape sate there, +A child with silver-shining wings, so fair, _4625 +That as her bark did through the waters glide, +The shadow of the lingering waves did wear +Light, as from starry beams; from side to side, +While veering to the wind her plumes the bark did guide. + +21. +The boat was one curved shell of hollow pearl, _4630 +Almost translucent with the light divine +Of her within; the prow and stern did curl +Horned on high, like the young moon supine, +When o’er dim twilight mountains dark with pine, +It floats upon the sunset’s sea of beams, _4635 +Whose golden waves in many a purple line +Fade fast, till borne on sunlight’s ebbing streams, +Dilating, on earth’s verge the sunken meteor gleams. + +22. +Its keel has struck the sands beside our feet;— +Then Cythna turned to me, and from her eyes _4640 +Which swam with unshed tears, a look more sweet +Than happy love, a wild and glad surprise, +Glanced as she spake: ‘Ay, this is Paradise +And not a dream, and we are all united! +Lo, that is mine own child, who in the guise _4645 +Of madness came, like day to one benighted +In lonesome woods: my heart is now too well requited!’ + +23. +And then she wept aloud, and in her arms +Clasped that bright Shape, less marvellously fair +Than her own human hues and living charms; _4650 +Which, as she leaned in passion’s silence there, +Breathed warmth on the cold bosom of the air, +Which seemed to blush and tremble with delight; +The glossy darkness of her streaming hair +Fell o’er that snowy child, and wrapped from sight _4655 +The fond and long embrace which did their hearts unite. + +24. +Then the bright child, the plumed Seraph came, +And fixed its blue and beaming eyes on mine, +And said, ‘I was disturbed by tremulous shame +When once we met, yet knew that I was thine _4660 +From the same hour in which thy lips divine +Kindled a clinging dream within my brain, +Which ever waked when I might sleep, to twine +Thine image with HER memory dear—again +We meet; exempted now from mortal fear or pain. _4665 + +25. +‘When the consuming flames had wrapped ye round, +The hope which I had cherished went away; +I fell in agony on the senseless ground, +And hid mine eyes in dust, and far astray +My mind was gone, when bright, like dawning day, _4670 +The Spectre of the Plague before me flew, +And breathed upon my lips, and seemed to say, +“They wait for thee, beloved!”—then I knew +The death-mark on my breast, and became calm anew. + +26. +‘It was the calm of love—for I was dying. _4675 +I saw the black and half-extinguished pyre +In its own gray and shrunken ashes lying; +The pitchy smoke of the departed fire +Still hung in many a hollow dome and spire +Above the towers, like night,—beneath whose shade _4680 +Awed by the ending of their own desire +The armies stood; a vacancy was made +In expectation’s depth, and so they stood dismayed. + +27. +‘The frightful silence of that altered mood, +The tortures of the dying clove alone, _4685 +Till one uprose among the multitude, +And said—“The flood of time is rolling on; +We stand upon its brink, whilst THEY are gone +To glide in peace down death’s mysterious stream. +Have ye done well? They moulder, flesh and bone, _4690 +Who might have made this life’s envenomed dream +A sweeter draught than ye will ever taste, I deem. + +28. +‘“These perish as the good and great of yore +Have perished, and their murderers will repent,— +Yes, vain and barren tears shall flow before _4695 +Yon smoke has faded from the firmament +Even for this cause, that ye who must lament +The death of those that made this world so fair, +Cannot recall them now; but there is lent +To man the wisdom of a high despair, _4700 +When such can die, and he live on and linger here. + +29. +‘“Ay, ye may fear not now the Pestilence, +From fabled hell as by a charm withdrawn; +All power and faith must pass, since calmly hence +In pain and fire have unbelievers gone; _4705 +And ye must sadly turn away, and moan +In secret, to his home each one returning; +And to long ages shall this hour be known; +And slowly shall its memory, ever burning, +Fill this dark night of things with an eternal morning. _4710 + +30. +‘“For me that world is grown too void and cold, +Since Hope pursues immortal Destiny +With steps thus slow—therefore shall ye behold +How those who love, yet fear not, dare to die; +Tell to your children this!” Then suddenly _4715 +He sheathed a dagger in his heart and fell; +My brain grew dark in death, and yet to me +There came a murmur from the crowd, to tell +Of deep and mighty change which suddenly befell. + +31. +‘Then suddenly I stood, a winged Thought, _4720 +Before the immortal Senate, and the seat +Of that star-shining spirit, whence is wrought +The strength of its dominion, good and great, +The better Genius of this world’s estate. +His realm around one mighty Fane is spread, _4725 +Elysian islands bright and fortunate, +Calm dwellings of the free and happy dead, +Where I am sent to lead!’ These winged words she said, + +32. +And with the silence of her eloquent smile, +Bade us embark in her divine canoe; _4730 +Then at the helm we took our seat, the while +Above her head those plumes of dazzling hue +Into the winds’ invisible stream she threw, +Sitting beside the prow: like gossamer +On the swift breath of morn, the vessel flew _4735 +O’er the bright whirlpools of that fountain fair, +Whose shores receded fast, while we seemed lingering there; + +33. +Till down that mighty stream, dark, calm, and fleet, +Between a chasm of cedarn mountains riven, +Chased by the thronging winds whose viewless feet _4740 +As swift as twinkling beams, had, under Heaven, +From woods and waves wild sounds and odours driven, +The boat fled visibly—three nights and days, +Borne like a cloud through morn, and noon, and even, +We sailed along the winding watery ways _4745 +Of the vast stream, a long and labyrinthine maze. + +34. +A scene of joy and wonder to behold +That river’s shapes and shadows changing ever, +Where the broad sunrise filled with deepening gold +Its whirlpools, where all hues did spread and quiver; _4750 +And where melodious falls did burst and shiver +Among rocks clad with flowers, the foam and spray +Sparkled like stars upon the sunny river, +Or when the moonlight poured a holier day, +One vast and glittering lake around green islands lay. _4755 + +35. +Morn, noon, and even, that boat of pearl outran +The streams which bore it, like the arrowy cloud +Of tempest, or the speedier thought of man, +Which flieth forth and cannot make abode; +Sometimes through forests, deep like night, we glode, _4760 +Between the walls of mighty mountains crowned +With Cyclopean piles, whose turrets proud, +The homes of the departed, dimly frowned +O’er the bright waves which girt their dark foundations round. + +36. +Sometimes between the wide and flowering meadows, _4765 +Mile after mile we sailed, and ’twas delight +To see far off the sunbeams chase the shadows +Over the grass; sometimes beneath the night +Of wide and vaulted caves, whose roofs were bright +With starry gems, we fled, whilst from their deep _4770 +And dark-green chasms, shades beautiful and white, +Amid sweet sounds across our path would sweep, +Like swift and lovely dreams that walk the waves of sleep. + +37. +And ever as we sailed, our minds were full +Of love and wisdom, which would overflow _4775 +In converse wild, and sweet, and wonderful, +And in quick smiles whose light would come and go +Like music o’er wide waves, and in the flow +Of sudden tears, and in the mute caress— +For a deep shade was cleft, and we did know, _4780 +That virtue, though obscured on Earth, not less +Survives all mortal change in lasting loveliness. + +38. +Three days and nights we sailed, as thought and feeling +Number delightful hours—for through the sky +The sphered lamps of day and night, revealing _4785 +New changes and new glories, rolled on high, +Sun, Moon and moonlike lamps, the progeny +Of a diviner Heaven, serene and fair: +On the fourth day, wild as a windwrought sea +The stream became, and fast and faster bare _4790 +The spirit-winged boat, steadily speeding there. + +39. +Steady and swift, where the waves rolled like mountains +Within the vast ravine, whose rifts did pour +Tumultuous floods from their ten thousand fountains, +The thunder of whose earth-uplifting roar _4795 +Made the air sweep in whirlwinds from the shore, +Calm as a shade, the boat of that fair child +Securely fled, that rapid stress before, +Amid the topmost spray, and sunbows wild, +Wreathed in the silver mist: in joy and pride we smiled. _4800 + +40. +The torrent of that wide and raging river +Is passed, and our aereal speed suspended. +We look behind; a golden mist did quiver +When its wild surges with the lake were blended,— +Our bark hung there, as on a line suspended _4805 +Between two heavens,—that windless waveless lake +Which four great cataracts from four vales, attended +By mists, aye feed; from rocks and clouds they break, +And of that azure sea a silent refuge make. + +41. +Motionless resting on the lake awhile, _4810 +I saw its marge of snow-bright mountains rear +Their peaks aloft, I saw each radiant isle, +And in the midst, afar, even like a sphere +Hung in one hollow sky, did there appear +The Temple of the Spirit; on the sound _4815 +Which issued thence, drawn nearer and more near, +Like the swift moon this glorious earth around, +The charmed boat approached, and there its haven found. + + +NOTES: +_4577 there]then edition 1818. +_4699 there]then edition 1818. +_4749 When]Where edition 1818. +_4804 Where]When edition 1818. +_4805 on a line]one line edition 1818. + + +NOTE ON THE “REVOLT OF ISLAM”, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +Shelley possessed two remarkable qualities of intellect—a brilliant +imagination, and a logical exactness of reason. His inclinations led +him (he fancied) almost alike to poetry and metaphysical discussions. +I say ‘he fancied,’ because I believe the former to have been +paramount, and that it would have gained the mastery even had he +struggled against it. However, he said that he deliberated at one time +whether he should dedicate himself to poetry or metaphysics; and, +resolving on the former, he educated himself for it, discarding in a +great measure his philosophical pursuits, and engaging himself in the +study of the poets of Greece, Italy, and England. To these may be +added a constant perusal of portions of the old Testament—the Psalms, +the Book of Job, the Prophet Isaiah, and others, the sublime poetry of +which filled him with delight. + +As a poet, his intellect and compositions were powerfully influenced +by exterior circumstances, and especially by his place of abode. He +was very fond of travelling, and ill-health increased this +restlessness. The sufferings occasioned by a cold English winter made +him pine, especially when our colder spring arrived, for a more genial +climate. In 1816 he again visited Switzerland, and rented a house on +the banks of the Lake of Geneva; and many a day, in cloud or sunshine, +was passed alone in his boat—sailing as the wind listed, or weltering +on the calm waters. The majestic aspect of Nature ministered such +thoughts as he afterwards enwove in verse. His lines on the Bridge of +the Arve, and his “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty”, were written at this +time. Perhaps during this summer his genius was checked by association +with another poet whose nature was utterly dissimilar to his own, yet +who, in the poem he wrote at that time, gave tokens that he shared for +a period the more abstract and etherealised inspiration of Shelley. +The saddest events awaited his return to England; but such was his +fear to wound the feelings of others that he never expressed the +anguish he felt, and seldom gave vent to the indignation roused by the +persecutions he underwent; while the course of deep unexpressed +passion, and the sense of injury, engendered the desire to embody +themselves in forms defecated of all the weakness and evil which cling +to real life. + +He chose therefore for his hero a youth nourished in dreams of +liberty, some of whose actions are in direct opposition to the +opinions of the world; but who is animated throughout by an ardent +love of virtue, and a resolution to confer the boons of political and +intellectual freedom on his fellow-creatures. He created for this +youth a woman such as he delighted to imagine—full of enthusiasm for +the same objects; and they both, with will unvanquished, and the +deepest sense of the justice of their cause, met adversity and death. +There exists in this poem a memorial of a friend of his youth. The +character of the old man who liberates Laon from his tower prison, and +tends on him in sickness, is founded on that of Doctor Lind, who, when +Shelley was at Eton, had often stood by to befriend and support him, +and whose name he never mentioned without love and veneration. + +During the year 1817 we were established at Marlow in Buckinghamshire. +Shelley’s choice of abode was fixed chiefly by this town being at no +great distance from London, and its neighbourhood to the Thames. The +poem was written in his boat, as it floated under the beech groves of +Bisham, or during wanderings in the neighbouring country, which is +distinguished for peculiar beauty. The chalk hills break into cliffs +that overhang the Thames, or form valleys clothed with beech; the +wilder portion of the country is rendered beautiful by exuberant +vegetation; and the cultivated part is peculiarly fertile. With all +this wealth of Nature which, either in the form of gentlemen’s parks +or soil dedicated to agriculture, flourishes around, Marlow was +inhabited (I hope it is altered now) by a very poor population. The +women are lacemakers, and lose their health by sedentary labour, for +which they were very ill paid. The Poor-laws ground to the dust not +only the paupers, but those who had risen just above that state, and +were obliged to pay poor-rates. The changes produced by peace +following a long war, and a bad harvest, brought with them the most +heart-rending evils to the poor. Shelley afforded what alleviation he +could. In the winter, while bringing out his poem, he had a severe +attack of ophthalmia, caught while visiting the poor cottages. I +mention these things,—for this minute and active sympathy with his +fellow-creatures gives a thousandfold interest to his speculations, +and stamps with reality his pleadings for the human race. + +The poem, bold in its opinions and uncompromising in their expression, +met with many censurers, not only among those who allow of no virtue +but such as supports the cause they espouse, but even among those +whose opinions were similar to his own. I extract a portion of a +letter written in answer to one of these friends. It best details the +impulses of Shelley’s mind, and his motives: it was written with +entire unreserve; and is therefore a precious monument of his own +opinion of his powers, of the purity of his designs, and the ardour +with which he clung, in adversity and through the valley of the shadow +of death, to views from which he believed the permanent happiness of +mankind must eventually spring. + +‘Marlowe, December 11, 1817. + +‘I have read and considered all that you say about my general powers, +and the particular instance of the poem in which I have attempted to +develop them. Nothing can be more satisfactory to me than the interest +which your admonitions express. But I think you are mistaken in some +points with regard to the peculiar nature of my powers, whatever be +their amount. I listened with deference and self-suspicion to your +censures of “The Revolt of Islam”; but the productions of mine which +you commend hold a very low place in my own esteem; and this reassures +me, in some degree at least. The poem was produced by a series of +thoughts which filled my mind with unbounded and sustained enthusiasm. +I felt the precariousness of my life, and I engaged in this task, +resolved to leave some record of myself. Much of what the volume +contains was written with the same feeling—as real, though not so +prophetic—as the communications of a dying man. I never presumed +indeed to consider it anything approaching to faultless; but, when I +consider contemporary productions of the same apparent pretensions, I +own I was filled with confidence. I felt that it was in many respects +a genuine picture of my own mind. I felt that the sentiments were +true, not assumed. And in this have I long believed that my power +consists; in sympathy, and that part of the imagination which relates +to sentiment and contemplation. I am formed, if for anything not in +common with the herd of mankind, to apprehend minute and remote +distinctions of feeling, whether relative to external nature or the +living beings which surround us, and to communicate the conceptions +which result from considering either the moral or the material +universe as a whole. Of course, I believe these faculties, which +perhaps comprehend all that is sublime in man, to exist very +imperfectly in my own mind. But, when you advert to my Chancery-paper, +a cold, forced, unimpassioned, insignificant piece of cramped and +cautious argument, and to the little scrap about “Mandeville”, which +expressed my feelings indeed, but cost scarcely two minutes’ thought +to express, as specimens of my powers more favourable than that which +grew as it were from “the agony and bloody sweat” of intellectual +travail; surely I must feel that, in some manner, either I am mistaken +in believing that I have any talent at all, or you in the selection of +the specimens of it. Yet, after all, I cannot but be conscious, in +much of what I write, of an absence of that tranquillity which is the +attribute and accompaniment of power. This feeling alone would make +your most kind and wise admonitions, on the subject of the economy of +intellectual force, valuable to me. And, if I live, or if I see any +trust in coming years, doubt not but that I shall do something, +whatever it may be, which a serious and earnest estimate of my powers +will suggest to me, and which will be in every respect accommodated to +their utmost limits. + +[Shelley to Godwin.] + +*** + + +PRINCE ATHANASE. + +A FRAGMENT. + +(The idea Shelley had formed of Prince Athanase was a good deal +modelled on “Alastor”. In the first sketch of the poem, he named it +“Pandemos and Urania”. Athanase seeks through the world the One whom +he may love. He meets, in the ship in which he is embarked, a lady who +appears to him to embody his ideal of love and beauty. But she proves +to be Pandemos, or the earthly and unworthy Venus; who, after +disappointing his cherished dreams and hopes, deserts him. Athanase, +crushed by sorrow, pines and dies. ‘On his deathbed, the lady who can +really reply to his soul comes and kisses his lips’ (“The Deathbed of +Athanase”). The poet describes her [in the words of the final +fragment, page 164]. This slender note is all we have to aid our +imagination in shaping out the form of the poem, such as its author +imagined. [Mrs. Shelley’s Note.]) + +[Written at Marlow in 1817, towards the close of the year; first +published in “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Part 1 is dated by Mrs. +Shelley, ‘December, 1817,’ the remainder, ‘Marlow, 1817.’ The verses +were probably rehandled in Italy during the following year. Sources of +the text are (1) “Posthumous Poems”, 1824; (2) “Poetical Works” 1839, +editions 1st and 2nd; (3) a much-tortured draft amongst the Bodleian +manuscripts, collated by Mr. C.D. Locock. For (1) and (2) Mrs. Shelley +is responsible. Our text (enlarged by about thirty lines from the +Bodleian manuscript) follows for the most part the “Poetical Works”, +1839; verbal exceptions are pointed out in the footnotes. See also the +Editor’s Notes at the end of this volume, and Mr. Locock’s +“Examination of Shelley Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library”, Oxford: +Clarendon Press, 1903.] + +PART 1. + +There was a youth, who, as with toil and travel, +Had grown quite weak and gray before his time; +Nor any could the restless griefs unravel + +Which burned within him, withering up his prime +And goading him, like fiends, from land to land. _5 +Not his the load of any secret crime, + +For nought of ill his heart could understand, +But pity and wild sorrow for the same;— +Not his the thirst for glory or command, + +Baffled with blast of hope-consuming shame; _10 +Nor evil joys which fire the vulgar breast, +And quench in speedy smoke its feeble flame, + +Had left within his soul their dark unrest: +Nor what religion fables of the grave +Feared he,—Philosophy’s accepted guest. _15 + +For none than he a purer heart could have, +Or that loved good more for itself alone; +Of nought in heaven or earth was he the slave. + +What sorrow, strange, and shadowy, and unknown, +Sent him, a hopeless wanderer, through mankind?— _20 +If with a human sadness he did groan, + +He had a gentle yet aspiring mind; +Just, innocent, with varied learning fed; +And such a glorious consolation find + +In others’ joy, when all their own is dead: _25 +He loved, and laboured for his kind in grief, +And yet, unlike all others, it is said + +That from such toil he never found relief. +Although a child of fortune and of power, +Of an ancestral name the orphan chief, _30 + +His soul had wedded Wisdom, and her dower +Is love and justice, clothed in which he sate +Apart from men, as in a lonely tower, + +Pitying the tumult of their dark estate.— +Yet even in youth did he not e’er abuse _35 +The strength of wealth or thought, to consecrate + +Those false opinions which the harsh rich use +To blind the world they famish for their pride; +Nor did he hold from any man his dues, + +But, like a steward in honest dealings tried, _40 +With those who toiled and wept, the poor and wise, +His riches and his cares he did divide. + +Fearless he was, and scorning all disguise, +What he dared do or think, though men might start, +He spoke with mild yet unaverted eyes; _45 + +Liberal he was of soul, and frank of heart, +And to his many friends—all loved him well— +Whate’er he knew or felt he would impart, + +If words he found those inmost thoughts to tell; +If not, he smiled or wept; and his weak foes _50 +He neither spurned nor hated—though with fell + +And mortal hate their thousand voices rose, +They passed like aimless arrows from his ear— +Nor did his heart or mind its portal close + +To those, or them, or any, whom life’s sphere _55 +May comprehend within its wide array. +What sadness made that vernal spirit sere?— + +He knew not. Though his life, day after day, +Was failing like an unreplenished stream, +Though in his eyes a cloud and burthen lay, _60 + +Through which his soul, like Vesper’s serene beam +Piercing the chasms of ever rising clouds, +Shone, softly burning; though his lips did seem + +Like reeds which quiver in impetuous floods; +And through his sleep, and o’er each waking hour, _65 +Thoughts after thoughts, unresting multitudes, + +Were driven within him by some secret power, +Which bade them blaze, and live, and roll afar, +Like lights and sounds, from haunted tower to tower + +O’er castled mountains borne, when tempest’s war _70 +Is levied by the night-contending winds, +And the pale dalesmen watch with eager ear;— + +Though such were in his spirit, as the fiends +Which wake and feed an everliving woe,— +What was this grief, which ne’er in other minds _75 + +A mirror found,—he knew not—none could know; +But on whoe’er might question him he turned +The light of his frank eyes, as if to show + +He knew not of the grief within that burned, +But asked forbearance with a mournful look; _80 +Or spoke in words from which none ever learned + +The cause of his disquietude; or shook +With spasms of silent passion; or turned pale: +So that his friends soon rarely undertook + +To stir his secret pain without avail;— _85 +For all who knew and loved him then perceived +That there was drawn an adamantine veil + +Between his heart and mind,—both unrelieved +Wrought in his brain and bosom separate strife. +Some said that he was mad, others believed _90 + +That memories of an antenatal life +Made this, where now he dwelt, a penal hell; +And others said that such mysterious grief + +From God’s displeasure, like a darkness, fell +On souls like his, which owned no higher law _95 +Than love; love calm, steadfast, invincible + +By mortal fear or supernatural awe; +And others,—‘’Tis the shadow of a dream +Which the veiled eye of Memory never saw, + +‘But through the soul’s abyss, like some dark stream _100 +Through shattered mines and caverns underground, +Rolls, shaking its foundations; and no beam + +‘Of joy may rise, but it is quenched and drowned +In the dim whirlpools of this dream obscure; +Soon its exhausted waters will have found _105 + +‘A lair of rest beneath thy spirit pure, +O Athanase!—in one so good and great, +Evil or tumult cannot long endure. + +So spake they: idly of another’s state +Babbling vain words and fond philosophy; _110 +This was their consolation; such debate + +Men held with one another; nor did he, +Like one who labours with a human woe, +Decline this talk: as if its theme might be + +Another, not himself, he to and fro _115 +Questioned and canvassed it with subtlest wit; +And none but those who loved him best could know + +That which he knew not, how it galled and bit +His weary mind, this converse vain and cold; +For like an eyeless nightmare grief did sit _120 + +Upon his being; a snake which fold by fold +Pressed out the life of life, a clinging fiend +Which clenched him if he stirred with deadlier hold;— +And so his grief remained—let it remain—untold. [1] + + +PART 2. + +FRAGMENT 1. + +Prince Athanase had one beloved friend, _125 +An old, old man, with hair of silver white, +And lips where heavenly smiles would hang and blend + +With his wise words; and eyes whose arrowy light +Shone like the reflex of a thousand minds. +He was the last whom superstition’s blight _130 + +Had spared in Greece—the blight that cramps and blinds,— +And in his olive bower at Oenoe +Had sate from earliest youth. Like one who finds + +A fertile island in the barren sea, +One mariner who has survived his mates _135 +Many a drear month in a great ship—so he + +With soul-sustaining songs, and sweet debates +Of ancient lore, there fed his lonely being:— +‘The mind becomes that which it contemplates,’— + +And thus Zonoras, by for ever seeing _140 +Their bright creations, grew like wisest men; +And when he heard the crash of nations fleeing + +A bloodier power than ruled thy ruins then, +O sacred Hellas! many weary years +He wandered, till the path of Laian’s glen _145 + +Was grass-grown—and the unremembered tears +Were dry in Laian for their honoured chief, +Who fell in Byzant, pierced by Moslem spears:— + +And as the lady looked with faithful grief +From her high lattice o’er the rugged path, _150 +Where she once saw that horseman toil, with brief + +And blighting hope, who with the news of death +Struck body and soul as with a mortal blight, +She saw between the chestnuts, far beneath, + +An old man toiling up, a weary wight; _155 +And soon within her hospitable hall +She saw his white hairs glittering in the light + +Of the wood fire, and round his shoulders fall; +And his wan visage and his withered mien, +Yet calm and gentle and majestical. _160 + +And Athanase, her child, who must have been +Then three years old, sate opposite and gazed +In patient silence. + + +FRAGMENT 2. + +Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds +One amaranth glittering on the path of frost, _165 +When autumn nights have nipped all weaker kinds, + +Thus through his age, dark, cold, and tempest-tossed, +Shone truth upon Zonoras; and he filled +From fountains pure, nigh overgrown and lost, + +The spirit of Prince Athanase, a child, _170 +With soul-sustaining songs of ancient lore +And philosophic wisdom, clear and mild. + +And sweet and subtle talk they evermore, +The pupil and the master, shared; until, +Sharing that undiminishable store, _175 + +The youth, as shadows on a grassy hill +Outrun the winds that chase them, soon outran +His teacher, and did teach with native skill + +Strange truths and new to that experienced man; +Still they were friends, as few have ever been _180 +Who mark the extremes of life’s discordant span. + +So in the caverns of the forest green, +Or on the rocks of echoing ocean hoar, +Zonoras and Prince Athanase were seen + +By summer woodmen; and when winter’s roar _185 +Sounded o’er earth and sea its blast of war, +The Balearic fisher, driven from shore, + +Hanging upon the peaked wave afar, +Then saw their lamp from Laian’s turret gleam, +Piercing the stormy darkness, like a star _190 + +Which pours beyond the sea one steadfast beam, +Whilst all the constellations of the sky +Seemed reeling through the storm...They did but seem— + +For, lo! the wintry clouds are all gone by, +And bright Arcturus through yon pines is glowing, _195 +And far o’er southern waves, immovably + +Belted Orion hangs—warm light is flowing +From the young moon into the sunset’s chasm.— +‘O, summer eve! with power divine, bestowing + +‘On thine own bird the sweet enthusiasm _200 +Which overflows in notes of liquid gladness, +Filling the sky like light! How many a spasm + +‘Of fevered brains, oppressed with grief and madness, +Were lulled by thee, delightful nightingale,— +And these soft waves, murmuring a gentle sadness,— _205 + +‘And the far sighings of yon piny dale +Made vocal by some wind we feel not here.— +I bear alone what nothing may avail + +‘To lighten—a strange load!’—No human ear +Heard this lament; but o’er the visage wan _210 +Of Athanase, a ruffling atmosphere + +Of dark emotion, a swift shadow, ran, +Like wind upon some forest-bosomed lake, +Glassy and dark.—And that divine old man + +Beheld his mystic friend’s whole being shake, _215 +Even where its inmost depths were gloomiest— +And with a calm and measured voice he spake, + +And, with a soft and equal pressure, pressed +That cold lean hand:—‘Dost thou remember yet +When the curved moon then lingering in the west _220 + +‘Paused, in yon waves her mighty horns to wet, +How in those beams we walked, half resting on the sea? +’Tis just one year—sure thou dost not forget— + +‘Then Plato’s words of light in thee and me +Lingered like moonlight in the moonless east, _225 +For we had just then read—thy memory + +‘Is faithful now—the story of the feast; +And Agathon and Diotima seemed +From death and dark forgetfulness released...’ + + +FRAGMENT 3. + +And when the old man saw that on the green +Leaves of his opening ... a blight had lighted _230 +He said: ‘My friend, one grief alone can wean + +A gentle mind from all that once delighted:— +Thou lovest, and thy secret heart is laden +With feelings which should not be unrequited.’ _235 + +And Athanase ... then smiled, as one o’erladen +With iron chains might smile to talk (?) of bands +Twined round her lover’s neck by some blithe maiden, +And said... + + +FRAGMENT 4. + +’Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings _240 +From slumber, as a sphered angel’s child, +Shadowing its eyes with green and golden wings, + +Stands up before its mother bright and mild, +Of whose soft voice the air expectant seems— +So stood before the sun, which shone and smiled _245 + +To see it rise thus joyous from its dreams, +The fresh and radiant Earth. The hoary grove +Waxed green—and flowers burst forth like starry beams;— + +The grass in the warm sun did start and move, +And sea-buds burst under the waves serene:— _250 +How many a one, though none be near to love, + +Loves then the shade of his own soul, half seen +In any mirror—or the spring’s young minions, +The winged leaves amid the copses green;— + +How many a spirit then puts on the pinions _255 +Of fancy, and outstrips the lagging blast, +And his own steps—and over wide dominions + +Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast, +More fleet than storms—the wide world shrinks below, +When winter and despondency are past. _260 + + +FRAGMENT 5. + +’Twas at this season that Prince Athanase +Passed the white Alps—those eagle-baffling mountains +Slept in their shrouds of snow;—beside the ways + +The waterfalls were voiceless—for their fountains +Were changed to mines of sunless crystal now, _265 +Or by the curdling winds—like brazen wings + +Which clanged along the mountain’s marble brow— +Warped into adamantine fretwork, hung +And filled with frozen light the chasms below. + +Vexed by the blast, the great pines groaned and swung _270 +Under their load of [snow]— +... +... +Such as the eagle sees, when he dives down +From the gray deserts of wide air, [beheld] _275 +[Prince] Athanase; and o’er his mien (?) was thrown + +The shadow of that scene, field after field, +Purple and dim and wide... + + +FRAGMENT 6. + +Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all +We can desire, O Love! and happy souls, _280 +Ere from thy vine the leaves of autumn fall, + +Catch thee, and feed from their o’erflowing bowls +Thousands who thirst for thine ambrosial dew;— +Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls + +Investeth it; and when the heavens are blue _285 +Thou fillest them; and when the earth is fair +The shadow of thy moving wings imbue + +Its deserts and its mountains, till they wear +Beauty like some light robe;—thou ever soarest +Among the towers of men, and as soft air _290 + +In spring, which moves the unawakened forest, +Clothing with leaves its branches bare and bleak, +Thou floatest among men; and aye implorest + +That which from thee they should implore:—the weak +Alone kneel to thee, offering up the hearts _295 +The strong have broken—yet where shall any seek + +A garment whom thou clothest not? the darts +Of the keen winter storm, barbed with frost, +Which, from the everlasting snow that parts + +The Alps from Heaven, pierce some traveller lost _300 +In the wide waved interminable snow +Ungarmented,... + + +ANOTHER FRAGMENT (A) + +Yes, often when the eyes are cold and dry, +And the lips calm, the Spirit weeps within +Tears bitterer than the blood of agony _305 + +Trembling in drops on the discoloured skin +Of those who love their kind and therefore perish +In ghastly torture—a sweet medicine + +Of peace and sleep are tears, and quietly +Them soothe from whose uplifted eyes they fall _310 +But... + + +ANOTHER FRAGMENT (B) + +Her hair was brown, her sphered eyes were brown, +And in their dark and liquid moisture swam, +Like the dim orb of the eclipsed moon; + +Yet when the spirit flashed beneath, there came _315 +The light from them, as when tears of delight +Double the western planet’s serene flame. + + +NOTES: +_19 strange edition 1839; deep edition 1824. +_74 feed an Bodleian manuscript; feed on editions 1824, 1839. + +_124 [1. The Author was pursuing a fuller development of the ideal +character of Athanase, when it struck him that in an attempt at +extreme refinement and analysis, his conceptions might be betrayed +into the assuming a morbid character. The reader will judge whether he +is a loser or gainer by this diffidence. [Shelley’s Note.] +Footnote diffidence cj. Rossetti (1878); difference editions 1824, +1839.] + +_154 beneath editions 1824, 1839; between Bodleian manuscript. +_165 One Bodleian manuscript edition 1839; An edition 1824. +_167 Thus thro’ Bodleian manuscript (?) edition 1839; Thus had edition 1824. +_173 talk they edition 1824, Bodleian manuscript; talk now edition 1839. +_175 that edition 1839; the edition 1824. +_182 So edition 1839; And edition 1824. +_183 Or on Bodleian manuscript; Or by editions 1824, 1839. +_199 eve Bodleian manuscript edition 1839; night edition 1824. +_212 emotion, a swift editions 1824, 1839; + emotion with swift Bodleian manuscript. +_250 under edition 1824, Bodleian manuscript; beneath edition 1839. +_256 outstrips editions 1824, 1839; outrides Bodleian manuscript. +_259 Exulting, while the wide Bodleian manuscript. +_262 mountains editions 1824, 1839; crags Bodleian manuscript. +_264 fountains editions 1824, 1839; springs Bodleian manuscript. +_269 chasms Bodleian manuscript; chasm editions 1824, 1839. +_283 thine Bodleian manuscript; thy editions 1824, 1839. +_285 Investeth Bodleian manuscript; Investest editions 1824, 1839. +_289 light Bodleian manuscript; bright editions 1824, 1839. + +*** + + +ROSALIND AND HELEN. + +A MODERN ECLOGUE. + +[Begun at Marlow, 1817 (summer); already in the press, March, 1818; +finished at the Baths of Lucca, August, 1818; published with other +poems, as the title-piece of a slender volume, by C. & J. Ollier, +London, 1819 (spring). See “Biographical List”. Sources of the text +are (1) editio princeps, 1819; (2) “Poetical Works”, edition Mrs. +Shelley, 1839, editions 1st and 2nd. A fragment of the text is amongst +the Boscombe manuscripts. The poem is reprinted here from the editio +princeps; verbal alterations are recorded in the footnotes, punctual +in the Editor’s Notes at the end of Volume 3.] + +ADVERTISEMENT. + +The story of “Rosalind and Helen” is, undoubtedly, not an attempt in +the highest style of poetry. It is in no degree calculated to excite +profound meditation; and if, by interesting the affections and amusing +the imagination, it awakens a certain ideal melancholy favourable to +the reception of more important impressions, it will produce in the +reader all that the writer experienced in the composition. I resigned +myself, as I wrote, to the impulses of the feelings which moulded the +conception of the story; and this impulse determined the pauses of a +measure, which only pretends to be regular inasmuch as it corresponds +with, and expresses, the irregularity of the imaginations which +inspired it. + +I do not know which of the few scattered poems I left in England will +be selected by my bookseller to add to this collection. One (“Lines +written among the Euganean Hills”.—Editor.), which I sent from Italy, +was written after a day’s excursion among those lovely mountains which +surround what was once the retreat, and where is now the sepulchre, of +Petrarch. If any one is inclined to condemn the insertion of the +introductory lines, which image forth the sudden relief of a state of +deep despondency by the radiant visions disclosed by the sudden burst +of an Italian sunrise in autumn on the highest peak of those +delightful mountains, I can only offer as my excuse, that they were +not erased at the request of a dear friend, with whom added years of +intercourse only add to my apprehension of its value, and who would +have had more right than any one to complain, that she has not been +able to extinguish in me the very power of delineating sadness. + +Naples, December 20, 1818. + + +ROSALIND, HELEN, AND HER CHILD. + +SCENE. THE SHORE OF THE LAKE OF COMO. + +HELEN: +Come hither, my sweet Rosalind. +’Tis long since thou and I have met; +And yet methinks it were unkind +Those moments to forget. +Come, sit by me. I see thee stand _5 +By this lone lake, in this far land, +Thy loose hair in the light wind flying, +Thy sweet voice to each tone of even +United, and thine eyes replying +To the hues of yon fair heaven. _10 +Come, gentle friend: wilt sit by me? +And be as thou wert wont to be +Ere we were disunited? +None doth behold us now; the power +That led us forth at this lone hour _15 +Will be but ill requited +If thou depart in scorn: oh! come, +And talk of our abandoned home. +Remember, this is Italy, +And we are exiles. Talk with me _20 +Of that our land, whose wilds and floods, +Barren and dark although they be, +Were dearer than these chestnut woods: +Those heathy paths, that inland stream, +And the blue mountains, shapes which seem _25 +Like wrecks of childhood’s sunny dream: +Which that we have abandoned now, +Weighs on the heart like that remorse +Which altered friendship leaves. I seek +No more our youthful intercourse. _30 +That cannot be! Rosalind, speak. +Speak to me. Leave me not.—When morn did come, +When evening fell upon our common home, +When for one hour we parted,—do not frown: +I would not chide thee, though thy faith is broken: _35 +But turn to me. Oh! by this cherished token, +Of woven hair, which thou wilt not disown, +Turn, as ’twere but the memory of me, +And not my scorned self who prayed to thee. + +ROSALIND: +Is it a dream, or do I see _40 +And hear frail Helen? I would flee +Thy tainting touch; but former years +Arise, and bring forbidden tears; +And my o’erburthened memory +Seeks yet its lost repose in thee. _45 +I share thy crime. I cannot choose +But weep for thee: mine own strange grief +But seldom stoops to such relief: +Nor ever did I love thee less, +Though mourning o’er thy wickedness _50 +Even with a sister’s woe. I knew +What to the evil world is due, +And therefore sternly did refuse +To link me with the infamy +Of one so lost as Helen. Now _55 +Bewildered by my dire despair, +Wondering I blush, and weep that thou +Should’st love me still,—thou only!—There, +Let us sit on that gray stone +Till our mournful talk be done. _60 + +HELEN: +Alas! not there; I cannot bear +The murmur of this lake to hear. +A sound from there, Rosalind dear, +Which never yet I heard elsewhere +But in our native land, recurs, _65 +Even here where now we meet. It stirs +Too much of suffocating sorrow! +In the dell of yon dark chestnutwood +Is a stone seat, a solitude +Less like our own. The ghost of Peace _70 +Will not desert this spot. To-morrow, +If thy kind feelings should not cease, +We may sit here. + +ROSALIND: +Thou lead, my sweet, +And I will follow. + +HENRY: +’Tis Fenici’s seat +Where you are going? This is not the way, _75 +Mamma; it leads behind those trees that grow +Close to the little river. + +HELEN: +Yes: I know; +I was bewildered. Kiss me and be gay, +Dear boy: why do you sob? + +HENRY: +I do not know: +But it might break any one’s heart to see _80 +You and the lady cry so bitterly. + +HELEN: +It is a gentle child, my friend. Go home, +Henry, and play with Lilla till I come. +We only cried with joy to see each other; +We are quite merry now: Good-night. + +The boy _85 +Lifted a sudden look upon his mother, +And in the gleam of forced and hollow joy +Which lightened o’er her face, laughed with the glee +Of light and unsuspecting infancy, +And whispered in her ear, ‘Bring home with you _90 +That sweet strange lady-friend.’ Then off he flew, +But stopped, and beckoned with a meaning smile, +Where the road turned. Pale Rosalind the while, +Hiding her face, stood weeping silently. + +In silence then they took the way _95 +Beneath the forest’s solitude. +It was a vast and antique wood, +Thro’ which they took their way; +And the gray shades of evening +O’er that green wilderness did fling _100 +Still deeper solitude. +Pursuing still the path that wound +The vast and knotted trees around +Through which slow shades were wandering, +To a deep lawny dell they came, _105 +To a stone seat beside a spring, +O’er which the columned wood did frame +A roofless temple, like the fane +Where, ere new creeds could faith obtain, +Man’s early race once knelt beneath _110 +The overhanging deity. +O’er this fair fountain hung the sky, +Now spangled with rare stars. The snake, +The pale snake, that with eager breath +Creeps here his noontide thirst to slake, _115 +Is beaming with many a mingled hue, +Shed from yon dome’s eternal blue, +When he floats on that dark and lucid flood +In the light of his own loveliness; +And the birds that in the fountain dip _120 +Their plumes, with fearless fellowship +Above and round him wheel and hover. +The fitful wind is heard to stir +One solitary leaf on high; +The chirping of the grasshopper _125 +Fills every pause. There is emotion +In all that dwells at noontide here; +Then, through the intricate wild wood, +A maze of life and light and motion +Is woven. But there is stillness now: _130 +Gloom, and the trance of Nature now: +The snake is in his cave asleep; +The birds are on the branches dreaming: +Only the shadows creep: +Only the glow-worm is gleaming: _135 +Only the owls and the nightingales +Wake in this dell when daylight fails, +And gray shades gather in the woods: +And the owls have all fled far away +In a merrier glen to hoot and play, _140 +For the moon is veiled and sleeping now. +The accustomed nightingale still broods +On her accustomed bough, +But she is mute; for her false mate +Has fled and left her desolate. _145 + +This silent spot tradition old +Had peopled with the spectral dead. +For the roots of the speaker’s hair felt cold +And stiff, as with tremulous lips he told +That a hellish shape at midnight led _150 +The ghost of a youth with hoary hair, +And sate on the seat beside him there, +Till a naked child came wandering by, +When the fiend would change to a lady fair! +A fearful tale! The truth was worse: _155 +For here a sister and a brother +Had solemnized a monstrous curse, +Meeting in this fair solitude: +For beneath yon very sky, +Had they resigned to one another _160 +Body and soul. The multitude: +Tracking them to the secret wood, +Tore limb from limb their innocent child, +And stabbed and trampled on its mother; +But the youth, for God’s most holy grace, _165 +A priest saved to burn in the market-place. + +Duly at evening Helen came +To this lone silent spot, +From the wrecks of a tale of wilder sorrow +So much of sympathy to borrow _170 +As soothed her own dark lot. +Duly each evening from her home, +With her fair child would Helen come +To sit upon that antique seat, +While the hues of day were pale; _175 +And the bright boy beside her feet +Now lay, lifting at intervals +His broad blue eyes on her; +Now, where some sudden impulse calls +Following. He was a gentle boy _180 +And in all gentle sorts took joy; +Oft in a dry leaf for a boat, +With a small feather for a sail, +His fancy on that spring would float, +If some invisible breeze might stir _185 +Its marble calm: and Helen smiled +Through tears of awe on the gay child, +To think that a boy as fair as he, +In years which never more may be, +By that same fount, in that same wood, _190 +The like sweet fancies had pursued; +And that a mother, lost like her, +Had mournfully sate watching him. +Then all the scene was wont to swim +Through the mist of a burning tear. _195 + +For many months had Helen known +This scene; and now she thither turned +Her footsteps, not alone. +The friend whose falsehood she had mourned, +Sate with her on that seat of stone. _200 +Silent they sate; for evening, +And the power its glimpses bring +Had, with one awful shadow, quelled +The passion of their grief. They sate +With linked hands, for unrepelled _205 +Had Helen taken Rosalind’s. +Like the autumn wind, when it unbinds +The tangled locks of the nightshade’s hair, +Which is twined in the sultry summer air +Round the walls of an outworn sepulchre, _210 +Did the voice of Helen, sad and sweet, +And the sound of her heart that ever beat, +As with sighs and words she breathed on her, +Unbind the knots of her friend’s despair, +Till her thoughts were free to float and flow; _215 +And from her labouring bosom now, +Like the bursting of a prisoned flame, +The voice of a long pent sorrow came. + +ROSALIND: +I saw the dark earth fall upon +The coffin; and I saw the stone _220 +Laid over him whom this cold breast +Had pillowed to his nightly rest! +Thou knowest not, thou canst not know +My agony. Oh! I could not weep: +The sources whence such blessings flow _225 +Were not to be approached by me! +But I could smile, and I could sleep, +Though with a self-accusing heart. +In morning’s light, in evening’s gloom, +I watched,—and would not thence depart— _230 +My husband’s unlamented tomb. +My children knew their sire was gone, +But when I told them,—‘He is dead,’— +They laughed aloud in frantic glee, +They clapped their hands and leaped about, _235 +Answering each other’s ecstasy +With many a prank and merry shout. +But I sate silent and alone, +Wrapped in the mock of mourning weed. + +They laughed, for he was dead: but I _240 +Sate with a hard and tearless eye, +And with a heart which would deny +The secret joy it could not quell, +Low muttering o’er his loathed name; +Till from that self-contention came _245 +Remorse where sin was none; a hell +Which in pure spirits should not dwell. + +I’ll tell thee truth. He was a man +Hard, selfish, loving only gold, +Yet full of guile; his pale eyes ran _250 +With tears, which each some falsehood told, +And oft his smooth and bridled tongue +Would give the lie to his flushing cheek; +He was a coward to the strong: +He was a tyrant to the weak, _255 +On whom his vengeance he would wreak: +For scorn, whose arrows search the heart, +From many a stranger’s eye would dart, +And on his memory cling, and follow +His soul to its home so cold and hollow. _260 +He was a tyrant to the weak, +And we were such, alas the day! +Oft, when my little ones at play, +Were in youth’s natural lightness gay, +Or if they listened to some tale _265 +Of travellers, or of fairy land,— +When the light from the wood-fire’s dying brand +Flashed on their faces,—if they heard +Or thought they heard upon the stair +His footstep, the suspended word _270 +Died on my lips: we all grew pale: +The babe at my bosom was hushed with fear +If it thought it heard its father near; +And my two wild boys would near my knee +Cling, cowed and cowering fearfully. _275 + +I’ll tell thee truth: I loved another. +His name in my ear was ever ringing, +His form to my brain was ever clinging: +Yet if some stranger breathed that name, +My lips turned white, and my heart beat fast: _280 +My nights were once haunted by dreams of flame, +My days were dim in the shadow cast +By the memory of the same! +Day and night, day and night, +He was my breath and life and light, _285 +For three short years, which soon were passed. +On the fourth, my gentle mother +Led me to the shrine, to be +His sworn bride eternally. +And now we stood on the altar stair, _290 +When my father came from a distant land, +And with a loud and fearful cry +Rushed between us suddenly. +I saw the stream of his thin gray hair, +I saw his lean and lifted hand, _295 +And heard his words,—and live! Oh God! +Wherefore do I live?—‘Hold, hold!’ +He cried, ‘I tell thee ’tis her brother! +Thy mother, boy, beneath the sod +Of yon churchyard rests in her shroud so cold: _300 +I am now weak, and pale, and old: +We were once dear to one another, +I and that corpse! Thou art our child!’ +Then with a laugh both long and wild +The youth upon the pavement fell: _305 +They found him dead! All looked on me, +The spasms of my despair to see: +But I was calm. I went away: +I was clammy-cold like clay! +I did not weep: I did not speak: _310 +But day by day, week after week, +I walked about like a corpse alive! +Alas! sweet friend, you must believe +This heart is stone: it did not break. +My father lived a little while, _315 +But all might see that he was dying, +He smiled with such a woeful smile! +When he was in the churchyard lying +Among the worms, we grew quite poor, +So that no one would give us bread: _320 +My mother looked at me, and said +Faint words of cheer, which only meant +That she could die and be content; +So I went forth from the same church door +To another husband’s bed. _325 +And this was he who died at last, +When weeks and months and years had passed, +Through which I firmly did fulfil +My duties, a devoted wife, +With the stern step of vanquished will, _330 +Walking beneath the night of life, +Whose hours extinguished, like slow rain +Falling for ever, pain by pain, +The very hope of death’s dear rest; +Which, since the heart within my breast _335 +Of natural life was dispossessed, +Its strange sustainer there had been. + +When flowers were dead, and grass was green +Upon my mother’s grave,—that mother +Whom to outlive, and cheer, and make _340 +My wan eyes glitter for her sake, +Was my vowed task, the single care +Which once gave life to my despair,— +When she was a thing that did not stir +And the crawling worms were cradling her _345 +To a sleep more deep and so more sweet +Than a baby’s rocked on its nurse’s knee, +I lived: a living pulse then beat +Beneath my heart that awakened me. +What was this pulse so warm and free? _350 +Alas! I knew it could not be +My own dull blood: ’twas like a thought +Of liquid love, that spread and wrought +Under my bosom and in my brain, +And crept with the blood through every vein; _355 +And hour by hour, day after day, +The wonder could not charm away, +But laid in sleep, my wakeful pain, +Until I knew it was a child, +And then I wept. For long, long years _360 +These frozen eyes had shed no tears: +But now—’twas the season fair and mild +When April has wept itself to May: +I sate through the sweet sunny day +By my window bowered round with leaves, _365 +And down my cheeks the quick tears fell +Like twinkling rain-drops from the eaves, +When warm spring showers are passing o’er. +O Helen, none can ever tell +The joy it was to weep once more! _370 + +I wept to think how hard it were +To kill my babe, and take from it +The sense of light, and the warm air, +And my own fond and tender care, +And love and smiles; ere I knew yet _375 +That these for it might, as for me, +Be the masks of a grinning mockery. +And haply, I would dream, ’twere sweet +To feed it from my faded breast, +Or mark my own heart’s restless beat _380 +Rock it to its untroubled rest, +And watch the growing soul beneath +Dawn in faint smiles; and hear its breath, +Half interrupted by calm sighs, +And search the depth of its fair eyes _385 +For long departed memories! +And so I lived till that sweet load +Was lightened. Darkly forward flowed +The stream of years, and on it bore +Two shapes of gladness to my sight; _390 +Two other babes, delightful more +In my lost soul’s abandoned night, +Than their own country ships may be +Sailing towards wrecked mariners, +Who cling to the rock of a wintry sea. _395 +For each, as it came, brought soothing tears; +And a loosening warmth, as each one lay +Sucking the sullen milk away +About my frozen heart, did play, +And weaned it, oh how painfully— _400 +As they themselves were weaned each one +From that sweet food,—even from the thirst +Of death, and nothingness, and rest, +Strange inmate of a living breast! +Which all that I had undergone _405 +Of grief and shame, since she, who first +The gates of that dark refuge closed, +Came to my sight, and almost burst +The seal of that Lethean spring; +But these fair shadows interposed: _410 +For all delights are shadows now! +And from my brain to my dull brow +The heavy tears gather and flow: +I cannot speak: Oh, let me weep! + +The tears which fell from her wan eyes _415 +Glimmered among the moonlight dew: +Her deep hard sobs and heavy sighs +Their echoes in the darkness threw. +When she grew calm, she thus did keep +The tenor of her tale: +He died: _420 +I know not how: he was not old, +If age be numbered by its years: +But he was bowed and bent with fears, +Pale with the quenchless thirst of gold, +Which, like fierce fever, left him weak; _425 +And his strait lip and bloated cheek +Were warped in spasms by hollow sneers; +And selfish cares with barren plough, +Not age, had lined his narrow brow, +And foul and cruel thoughts, which feed _430 +Upon the withering life within, +Like vipers on some poisonous weed. +Whether his ill were death or sin +None knew, until he died indeed, +And then men owned they were the same. _435 + +Seven days within my chamber lay +That corse, and my babes made holiday: +At last, I told them what is death: +The eldest, with a kind of shame, +Came to my knees with silent breath, _440 +And sate awe-stricken at my feet; +And soon the others left their play, +And sate there too. It is unmeet +To shed on the brief flower of youth +The withering knowledge of the grave; _445 +From me remorse then wrung that truth. +I could not bear the joy which gave +Too just a response to mine own. +In vain. I dared not feign a groan, +And in their artless looks I saw, _450 +Between the mists of fear and awe, +That my own thought was theirs, and they +Expressed it not in words, but said, +Each in its heart, how every day +Will pass in happy work and play, _455 +Now he is dead and gone away. + +After the funeral all our kin +Assembled, and the will was read. +My friend, I tell thee, even the dead +Have strength, their putrid shrouds within, _460 +To blast and torture. Those who live +Still fear the living, but a corse +Is merciless, and power doth give +To such pale tyrants half the spoil +He rends from those who groan and toil, _465 +Because they blush not with remorse +Among their crawling worms. Behold, +I have no child! my tale grows old +With grief, and staggers: let it reach +The limits of my feeble speech, _470 +And languidly at length recline +On the brink of its own grave and mine. + +Thou knowest what a thing is Poverty +Among the fallen on evil days: +’Tis Crime, and Fear, and Infamy, _475 +And houseless Want in frozen ways +Wandering ungarmented, and Pain, +And, worse than all, that inward stain +Foul Self-contempt, which drowns in sneers +Youth’s starlight smile, and makes its tears _480 +First like hot gall, then dry for ever! +And well thou knowest a mother never +Could doom her children to this ill, +And well he knew the same. The will +Imported, that if e’er again _485 +I sought my children to behold, +Or in my birthplace did remain +Beyond three days, whose hours were told, +They should inherit nought: and he, +To whom next came their patrimony, _490 +A sallow lawyer, cruel and cold, +Aye watched me, as the will was read, +With eyes askance, which sought to see +The secrets of my agony; +And with close lips and anxious brow _495 +Stood canvassing still to and fro +The chance of my resolve, and all +The dead man’s caution just did call; +For in that killing lie ’twas said— +‘She is adulterous, and doth hold _500 +In secret that the Christian creed +Is false, and therefore is much need +That I should have a care to save +My children from eternal fire.’ +Friend, he was sheltered by the grave, _505 +And therefore dared to be a liar! +In truth, the Indian on the pyre +Of her dead husband, half consumed, +As well might there be false, as I +To those abhorred embraces doomed, _510 +Far worse than fire’s brief agony +As to the Christian creed, if true +Or false, I never questioned it: +I took it as the vulgar do: +Nor my vexed soul had leisure yet _515 +To doubt the things men say, or deem +That they are other than they seem. + +All present who those crimes did hear, +In feigned or actual scorn and fear, +Men, women, children, slunk away, _520 +Whispering with self-contented pride, +Which half suspects its own base lie. +I spoke to none, nor did abide, +But silently I went my way, +Nor noticed I where joyously _525 +Sate my two younger babes at play, +In the court-yard through which I passed; +But went with footsteps firm and fast +Till I came to the brink of the ocean green, +And there, a woman with gray hairs, _530 +Who had my mother’s servant been, +Kneeling, with many tears and prayers, +Made me accept a purse of gold, +Half of the earnings she had kept +To refuge her when weak and old. _535 + +With woe, which never sleeps or slept, +I wander now. ’Tis a vain thought— +But on yon alp, whose snowy head +‘Mid the azure air is islanded, +(We see it o’er the flood of cloud, _540 +Which sunrise from its eastern caves +Drives, wrinkling into golden waves, +Hung with its precipices proud, +From that gray stone where first we met) +There now—who knows the dead feel nought?— _545 +Should be my grave; for he who yet +Is my soul’s soul, once said: ‘’Twere sweet +‘Mid stars and lightnings to abide, +And winds and lulling snows, that beat +With their soft flakes the mountain wide, _550 +Where weary meteor lamps repose, +And languid storms their pinions close: +And all things strong and bright and pure, +And ever during, aye endure: +Who knows, if one were buried there, _555 +But these things might our spirits make, +Amid the all-surrounding air, +Their own eternity partake?’ +Then ’twas a wild and playful saying +At which I laughed, or seemed to laugh: _560 +They were his words: now heed my praying, +And let them be my epitaph. +Thy memory for a term may be +My monument. Wilt remember me? +I know thou wilt, and canst forgive _565 +Whilst in this erring world to live +My soul disdained not, that I thought +Its lying forms were worthy aught +And much less thee. + +HELEN: +O speak not so, +But come to me and pour thy woe _570 +Into this heart, full though it be, +Ay, overflowing with its own: +I thought that grief had severed me +From all beside who weep and groan; +Its likeness upon earth to be, _575 +Its express image; but thou art +More wretched. Sweet! we will not part +Henceforth, if death be not division; +If so, the dead feel no contrition. +But wilt thou hear since last we parted _580 +All that has left me broken hearted? + +ROSALIND: +Yes, speak. The faintest stars are scarcely shorn +Of their thin beams by that delusive morn +Which sinks again in darkness, like the light +Of early love, soon lost in total night. _585 + +HELEN: +Alas! Italian winds are mild, +But my bosom is cold—wintry cold— +When the warm air weaves, among the fresh leaves, +Soft music, my poor brain is wild, +And I am weak like a nursling child, _590 +Though my soul with grief is gray and old. + +ROSALIND: +Weep not at thine own words, though they must make +Me weep. What is thy tale? + +HELEN: +I fear ‘twill shake +Thy gentle heart with tears. Thou well +Rememberest when we met no more, _595 +And, though I dwelt with Lionel, +That friendless caution pierced me sore +With grief; a wound my spirit bore +Indignantly, but when he died, +With him lay dead both hope and pride. _600 +Alas! all hope is buried now. +But then men dreamed the aged earth +Was labouring in that mighty birth, +Which many a poet and a sage +Has aye foreseen—the happy age _605 +When truth and love shall dwell below +Among the works and ways of men; +Which on this world not power but will +Even now is wanting to fulfil. + +Among mankind what thence befell _610 +Of strife, how vain, is known too well; +When Liberty’s dear paean fell +‘Mid murderous howls. To Lionel, +Though of great wealth and lineage high, +Yet through those dungeon walls there came _615 +Thy thrilling light, O Liberty! +And as the meteor’s midnight flame +Startles the dreamer, sun-like truth +Flashed on his visionary youth, +And filled him, not with love, but faith, _620 +And hope, and courage mute in death; +For love and life in him were twins, +Born at one birth: in every other +First life then love its course begins, +Though they be children of one mother; _625 +And so through this dark world they fleet +Divided, till in death they meet; +But he loved all things ever. Then +He passed amid the strife of men, +And stood at the throne of armed power _630 +Pleading for a world of woe: +Secure as one on a rock-built tower +O’er the wrecks which the surge trails to and fro, +‘Mid the passions wild of human kind +He stood, like a spirit calming them; _635 +For, it was said, his words could bind +Like music the lulled crowd, and stem +That torrent of unquiet dream +Which mortals truth and reason deem, +But is revenge and fear and pride. _640 +Joyous he was; and hope and peace +On all who heard him did abide, +Raining like dew from his sweet talk, +As where the evening star may walk +Along the brink of the gloomy seas, _645 +Liquid mists of splendour quiver. +His very gestures touched to tears +The unpersuaded tyrant, never +So moved before: his presence stung +The torturers with their victim’s pain, _650 +And none knew how; and through their ears +The subtle witchcraft of his tongue +Unlocked the hearts of those who keep +Gold, the world’s bond of slavery. +Men wondered, and some sneered to see _655 +One sow what he could never reap: +For he is rich, they said, and young, +And might drink from the depths of luxury. +If he seeks Fame, Fame never crowned +The champion of a trampled creed: _660 +If he seeks Power, Power is enthroned +‘Mid ancient rights and wrongs, to feed +Which hungry wolves with praise and spoil, +Those who would sit near Power must toil; +And such, there sitting, all may see. _665 +What seeks he? All that others seek +He casts away, like a vile weed +Which the sea casts unreturningly. +That poor and hungry men should break +The laws which wreak them toil and scorn, _670 +We understand; but Lionel +We know, is rich and nobly born. +So wondered they: yet all men loved +Young Lionel, though few approved; +All but the priests, whose hatred fell _675 +Like the unseen blight of a smiling day, +The withering honey dew, which clings +Under the bright green buds of May, +Whilst they unfold their emerald wings: +For he made verses wild and queer _680 +On the strange creeds priests hold so dear, +Because they bring them land and gold. +Of devils and saints and all such gear, +He made tales which whoso heard or read +Would laugh till he were almost dead. _685 +So this grew a proverb: ‘Don’t get old +Till Lionel’s “Banquet in Hell” you hear, +And then you will laugh yourself young again.’ +So the priests hated him, and he +Repaid their hate with cheerful glee. _690 + +Ah, smiles and joyance quickly died, +For public hope grew pale and dim +In an altered time and tide, +And in its wasting withered him, +As a summer flower that blows too soon _695 +Droops in the smile of the waning moon, +When it scatters through an April night +The frozen dews of wrinkling blight. +None now hoped more. Gray Power was seated +Safely on her ancestral throne; _700 +And Faith, the Python, undefeated, +Even to its blood-stained steps dragged on +Her foul and wounded train, and men +Were trampled and deceived again, +And words and shows again could bind _705 +The wailing tribes of human kind +In scorn and famine. Fire and blood +Raged round the raging multitude, +To fields remote by tyrants sent +To be the scorned instrument _710 +With which they drag from mines of gore +The chains their slaves yet ever wore: +And in the streets men met each other, +And by old altars and in halls, +And smiled again at festivals. _715 +But each man found in his heart’s brother +Cold cheer; for all, though half deceived, +The outworn creeds again believed, +And the same round anew began, +Which the weary world yet ever ran. _720 + +Many then wept, not tears, but gall +Within their hearts, like drops which fall +Wasting the fountain-stone away. +And in that dark and evil day +Did all desires and thoughts, that claim _725 +Men’s care—ambition, friendship, fame, +Love, hope, though hope was now despair— +Indue the colours of this change, +As from the all-surrounding air +The earth takes hues obscure and strange, _730 +When storm and earthquake linger there. + +And so, my friend, it then befell +To many, most to Lionel, +Whose hope was like the life of youth +Within him, and when dead, became _735 +A spirit of unresting flame, +Which goaded him in his distress +Over the world’s vast wilderness. +Three years he left his native land, +And on the fourth, when he returned, _740 +None knew him: he was stricken deep +With some disease of mind, and turned +Into aught unlike Lionel. +On him, on whom, did he pause in sleep, +Serenest smiles were wont to keep, _745 +And, did he wake, a winged band +Of bright persuasions, which had fed +On his sweet lips and liquid eyes, +Kept their swift pinions half outspread +To do on men his least command; _750 +On him, whom once ’twas paradise +Even to behold, now misery lay: +In his own heart ’twas merciless, +To all things else none may express +Its innocence and tenderness. _755 + +’Twas said that he had refuge sought +In love from his unquiet thought +In distant lands, and been deceived +By some strange show; for there were found, +Blotted with tears as those relieved _760 +By their own words are wont to do, +These mournful verses on the ground, +By all who read them blotted too. + +‘How am I changed! my hopes were once like fire: +I loved, and I believed that life was love. _765 +How am I lost! on wings of swift desire +Among Heaven’s winds my spirit once did move. +I slept, and silver dreams did aye inspire +My liquid sleep: I woke, and did approve +All nature to my heart, and thought to make _770 +A paradise of earth for one sweet sake. + +‘I love, but I believe in love no more. +I feel desire, but hope not. O, from sleep +Most vainly must my weary brain implore +Its long lost flattery now: I wake to weep, _775 +And sit through the long day gnawing the core +Of my bitter heart, and, like a miser, keep, +Since none in what I feel take pain or pleasure, +To my own soul its self-consuming treasure.’ + +He dwelt beside me near the sea; _780 +And oft in evening did we meet, +When the waves, beneath the starlight, flee +O’er the yellow sands with silver feet, +And talked: our talk was sad and sweet, +Till slowly from his mien there passed _785 +The desolation which it spoke; +And smiles,—as when the lightning’s blast +Has parched some heaven-delighting oak, +The next spring shows leaves pale and rare, +But like flowers delicate and fair, _790 +On its rent boughs,—again arrayed +His countenance in tender light: +His words grew subtile fire, which made +The air his hearers breathed delight: +His motions, like the winds, were free, _795 +Which bend the bright grass gracefully, +Then fade away in circlets faint: +And winged Hope, on which upborne +His soul seemed hovering in his eyes, +Like some bright spirit newly born _800 +Floating amid the sunny skies, +Sprang forth from his rent heart anew. +Yet o’er his talk, and looks, and mien, +Tempering their loveliness too keen, +Past woe its shadow backward threw, _805 +Till like an exhalation, spread +From flowers half drunk with evening dew, +They did become infectious: sweet +And subtle mists of sense and thought: +Which wrapped us soon, when we might meet, _810 +Almost from our own looks and aught +The wild world holds. And so, his mind +Was healed, while mine grew sick with fear: +For ever now his health declined, +Like some frail bark which cannot bear _815 +The impulse of an altered wind, +Though prosperous: and my heart grew full +‘Mid its new joy of a new care: +For his cheek became, not pale, but fair, +As rose-o’ershadowed lilies are; _820 +And soon his deep and sunny hair, +In this alone less beautiful, +Like grass in tombs grew wild and rare. +The blood in his translucent veins +Beat, not like animal life, but love _825 +Seemed now its sullen springs to move, +When life had failed, and all its pains: +And sudden sleep would seize him oft +Like death, so calm, but that a tear, +His pointed eyelashes between, _830 +Would gather in the light serene +Of smiles, whose lustre bright and soft +Beneath lay undulating there. +His breath was like inconstant flame, +As eagerly it went and came; _835 +And I hung o’er him in his sleep, +Till, like an image in the lake +Which rains disturb, my tears would break +The shadow of that slumber deep: +Then he would bid me not to weep, _840 +And say, with flattery false, yet sweet, +That death and he could never meet, +If I would never part with him. +And so we loved, and did unite +All that in us was yet divided: _845 +For when he said, that many a rite, +By men to bind but once provided, +Could not be shared by him and me, +Or they would kill him in their glee, +I shuddered, and then laughing said— _850 +‘We will have rites our faith to bind, +But our church shall be the starry night, +Our altar the grassy earth outspread, +And our priest the muttering wind.’ + +’Twas sunset as I spoke: one star _855 +Had scarce burst forth, when from afar +The ministers of misrule sent, +Seized upon Lionel, and bore +His chained limbs to a dreary tower, +In the midst of a city vast and wide. _860 +For he, they said, from his mind had bent +Against their gods keen blasphemy, +For which, though his soul must roasted be +In hell’s red lakes immortally, +Yet even on earth must he abide _865 +The vengeance of their slaves: a trial, +I think, men call it. What avail +Are prayers and tears, which chase denial +From the fierce savage, nursed in hate? +What the knit soul that pleading and pale _870 +Makes wan the quivering cheek, which late +It painted with its own delight? +We were divided. As I could, +I stilled the tingling of my blood, +And followed him in their despite, _875 +As a widow follows, pale and wild, +The murderers and corse of her only child; +And when we came to the prison door +And I prayed to share his dungeon floor +With prayers which rarely have been spurned, _880 +And when men drove me forth and I +Stared with blank frenzy on the sky, +A farewell look of love he turned, +Half calming me; then gazed awhile, +As if thro’ that black and massy pile, _885 +And thro’ the crowd around him there, +And thro’ the dense and murky air, +And the thronged streets, he did espy +What poets know and prophesy; +And said, with voice that made them shiver _890 +And clung like music in my brain, +And which the mute walls spoke again +Prolonging it with deepened strain: +‘Fear not the tyrants shall rule for ever, +Or the priests of the bloody faith; _895 +They stand on the brink of that mighty river, +Whose waves they have tainted with death: +It is fed from the depths of a thousand dells, +Around them it foams, and rages, and swells, +And their swords and their sceptres I floating see, _900 +Like wrecks in the surge of eternity.’ + +I dwelt beside the prison gate; +And the strange crowd that out and in +Passed, some, no doubt, with mine own fate, +Might have fretted me with its ceaseless din, _905 +But the fever of care was louder within. +Soon, but too late, in penitence +Or fear, his foes released him thence: +I saw his thin and languid form, +As leaning on the jailor’s arm, _910 +Whose hardened eyes grew moist the while, +To meet his mute and faded smile, +And hear his words of kind farewell, +He tottered forth from his damp cell. +Many had never wept before, _915 +From whom fast tears then gushed and fell: +Many will relent no more, +Who sobbed like infants then; aye, all +Who thronged the prison’s stony hall, +The rulers or the slaves of law, _920 +Felt with a new surprise and awe +That they were human, till strong shame +Made them again become the same. +The prison blood-hounds, huge and grim, +From human looks the infection caught, _925 +And fondly crouched and fawned on him; +And men have heard the prisoners say, +Who in their rotting dungeons lay, +That from that hour, throughout one day, +The fierce despair and hate which kept _930 +Their trampled bosoms almost slept: +Where, like twin vultures, they hung feeding +On each heart’s wound, wide torn and bleeding,— +Because their jailors’ rule, they thought, +Grew merciful, like a parent’s sway. _935 + +I know not how, but we were free: +And Lionel sate alone with me, +As the carriage drove thro’ the streets apace; +And we looked upon each other’s face; +And the blood in our fingers intertwined _940 +Ran like the thoughts of a single mind, +As the swift emotions went and came +Thro’ the veins of each united frame. +So thro’ the long long streets we passed +Of the million-peopled City vast; _945 +Which is that desert, where each one +Seeks his mate yet is alone, +Beloved and sought and mourned of none; +Until the clear blue sky was seen, +And the grassy meadows bright and green, _950 +And then I sunk in his embrace, +Enclosing there a mighty space +Of love: and so we travelled on +By woods, and fields of yellow flowers, +And towns, and villages, and towers, _955 +Day after day of happy hours. +It was the azure time of June, +When the skies are deep in the stainless noon, +And the warm and fitful breezes shake +The fresh green leaves of the hedgerow briar, _960 +And there were odours then to make +The very breath we did respire +A liquid element, whereon +Our spirits, like delighted things +That walk the air on subtle wings, _965 +Floated and mingled far away, +‘Mid the warm winds of the sunny day. +And when the evening star came forth +Above the curve of the new bent moon, +And light and sound ebbed from the earth, _970 +Like the tide of the full and the weary sea +To the depths of its own tranquillity, +Our natures to its own repose +Did the earth’s breathless sleep attune: +Like flowers, which on each other close _975 +Their languid leaves when daylight’s gone, +We lay, till new emotions came, +Which seemed to make each mortal frame +One soul of interwoven flame, +A life in life, a second birth _980 +In worlds diviner far than earth, +Which, like two strains of harmony +That mingle in the silent sky +Then slowly disunite, passed by +And left the tenderness of tears, _985 +A soft oblivion of all fears, +A sweet sleep: so we travelled on +Till we came to the home of Lionel, +Among the mountains wild and lone, +Beside the hoary western sea, _990 +Which near the verge of the echoing shore +The massy forest shadowed o’er. + +The ancient steward, with hair all hoar, +As we alighted, wept to see +His master changed so fearfully; _995 +And the old man’s sobs did waken me +From my dream of unremaining gladness; +The truth flashed o’er me like quick madness +When I looked, and saw that there was death +On Lionel: yet day by day _1000 +He lived, till fear grew hope and faith, +And in my soul I dared to say, +Nothing so bright can pass away: +Death is dark, and foul, and dull, +But he is—O how beautiful! _1005 +Yet day by day he grew more weak, +And his sweet voice, when he might speak, +Which ne’er was loud, became more low; +And the light which flashed through his waxen cheek +Grew faint, as the rose-like hues which flow _1010 +From sunset o’er the Alpine snow: +And death seemed not like death in him, +For the spirit of life o’er every limb +Lingered, a mist of sense and thought. +When the summer wind faint odours brought _1015 +From mountain flowers, even as it passed +His cheek would change, as the noonday sea +Which the dying breeze sweeps fitfully. +If but a cloud the sky o’ercast, +You might see his colour come and go, _1020 +And the softest strain of music made +Sweet smiles, yet sad, arise and fade +Amid the dew of his tender eyes; +And the breath, with intermitting flow, +Made his pale lips quiver and part. _1025 +You might hear the beatings of his heart, +Quick, but not strong; and with my tresses +When oft he playfully would bind +In the bowers of mossy lonelinesses +His neck, and win me so to mingle _1030 +In the sweet depth of woven caresses, +And our faint limbs were intertwined, +Alas! the unquiet life did tingle +From mine own heart through every vein, +Like a captive in dreams of liberty, _1035 +Who beats the walls of his stony cell. +But his, it seemed already free, +Like the shadow of fire surrounding me! +On my faint eyes and limbs did dwell +That spirit as it passed, till soon, _1040 +As a frail cloud wandering o’er the moon, +Beneath its light invisible, +Is seen when it folds its gray wings again +To alight on midnight’s dusky plain, +I lived and saw, and the gathering soul _1045 +Passed from beneath that strong control, +And I fell on a life which was sick with fear +Of all the woe that now I bear. + +Amid a bloomless myrtle wood, +On a green and sea-girt promontory, _1050 +Not far from where we dwelt, there stood +In record of a sweet sad story, +An altar and a temple bright +Circled by steps, and o’er the gate +Was sculptured, ‘To Fidelity;’ _1055 +And in the shrine an image sate, +All veiled: but there was seen the light +Of smiles which faintly could express +A mingled pain and tenderness +Through that ethereal drapery. _1060 +The left hand held the head, the right— +Beyond the veil, beneath the skin, +You might see the nerves quivering within— +Was forcing the point of a barbed dart +Into its side-convulsing heart. _1065 +An unskilled hand, yet one informed +With genius, had the marble warmed +With that pathetic life. This tale +It told: A dog had from the sea, +When the tide was raging fearfully, _1070 +Dragged Lionel’s mother, weak and pale, +Then died beside her on the sand, +And she that temple thence had planned; +But it was Lionel’s own hand +Had wrought the image. Each new moon _1075 +That lady did, in this lone fane, +The rites of a religion sweet, +Whose god was in her heart and brain: +The seasons’ loveliest flowers were strewn +On the marble floor beneath her feet, _1080 +And she brought crowns of sea-buds white +Whose odour is so sweet and faint, +And weeds, like branching chrysolite, +Woven in devices fine and quaint. +And tears from her brown eyes did stain _1085 +The altar: need but look upon +That dying statue fair and wan, +If tears should cease, to weep again: +And rare Arabian odours came, +Through the myrtle copses steaming thence _1090 +From the hissing frankincense, +Whose smoke, wool-white as ocean foam, +Hung in dense flocks beneath the dome— +That ivory dome, whose azure night +With golden stars, like heaven, was bright— _1095 +O’er the split cedar’s pointed flame; +And the lady’s harp would kindle there +The melody of an old air, +Softer than sleep; the villagers +Mixed their religion up with hers, _1100 +And, as they listened round, shed tears. + +One eve he led me to this fane: +Daylight on its last purple cloud +Was lingering gray, and soon her strain +The nightingale began; now loud, _1105 +Climbing in circles the windless sky, +Now dying music; suddenly +’Tis scattered in a thousand notes, +And now to the hushed ear it floats +Like field smells known in infancy, _1110 +Then failing, soothes the air again. +We sate within that temple lone, +Pavilioned round with Parian stone: +His mother’s harp stood near, and oft +I had awakened music soft _1115 +Amid its wires: the nightingale +Was pausing in her heaven-taught tale: +‘Now drain the cup,’ said Lionel, +‘Which the poet-bird has crowned so well +With the wine of her bright and liquid song! _1120 +Heardst thou not sweet words among +That heaven-resounding minstrelsy? +Heard’st thou not that those who die +Awake in a world of ecstasy? +That love, when limbs are interwoven, _1125 +And sleep, when the night of life is cloven, +And thought, to the world’s dim boundaries clinging, +And music, when one beloved is singing, +Is death? Let us drain right joyously +The cup which the sweet bird fills for me.’ _1130 +He paused, and to my lips he bent +His own: like spirit his words went +Through all my limbs with the speed of fire; +And his keen eyes, glittering through mine, +Filled me with the flame divine, _1135 +Which in their orbs was burning far, +Like the light of an unmeasured star, +In the sky of midnight dark and deep: +Yes, ’twas his soul that did inspire +Sounds, which my skill could ne’er awaken; _1140 +And first, I felt my fingers sweep +The harp, and a long quivering cry +Burst from my lips in symphony: +The dusk and solid air was shaken, +As swift and swifter the notes came _1145 +From my touch, that wandered like quick flame, +And from my bosom, labouring +With some unutterable thing: +The awful sound of my own voice made +My faint lips tremble; in some mood _1150 +Of wordless thought Lionel stood +So pale, that even beside his cheek +The snowy column from its shade +Caught whiteness: yet his countenance, +Raised upward, burned with radiance _1155 +Of spirit-piercing joy, whose light, +Like the moon struggling through the night +Of whirlwind-rifted clouds, did break +With beams that might not be confined. +I paused, but soon his gestures kindled _1160 +New power, as by the moving wind +The waves are lifted, and my song +To low soft notes now changed and dwindled, +And from the twinkling wires among, +My languid fingers drew and flung _1165 +Circles of life-dissolving sound, +Yet faint; in aery rings they bound +My Lionel, who, as every strain +Grew fainter but more sweet, his mien +Sunk with the sound relaxedly; _1170 +And slowly now he turned to me, +As slowly faded from his face +That awful joy: with looks serene +He was soon drawn to my embrace, +And my wild song then died away _1175 +In murmurs: words I dare not say +We mixed, and on his lips mine fed +Till they methought felt still and cold: +‘What is it with thee, love?’ I said: +No word, no look, no motion! yes, _1180 +There was a change, but spare to guess, +Nor let that moment’s hope be told. +I looked, and knew that he was dead, +And fell, as the eagle on the plain +Falls when life deserts her brain, _1185 +And the mortal lightning is veiled again. + +O that I were now dead! but such +(Did they not, love, demand too much, +Those dying murmurs?) he forbade. +O that I once again were mad! _1190 +And yet, dear Rosalind, not so, +For I would live to share thy woe. +Sweet boy! did I forget thee too? +Alas, we know not what we do +When we speak words. +No memory more _1195 +Is in my mind of that sea shore. +Madness came on me, and a troop +Of misty shapes did seem to sit +Beside me, on a vessel’s poop, +And the clear north wind was driving it. _1200 +Then I heard strange tongues, and saw strange flowers, +And the stars methought grew unlike ours, +And the azure sky and the stormless sea +Made me believe that I had died, +And waked in a world, which was to me _1205 +Drear hell, though heaven to all beside: +Then a dead sleep fell on my mind, +Whilst animal life many long years +Had rescued from a chasm of tears; +And when I woke, I wept to find _1210 +That the same lady, bright and wise, +With silver locks and quick brown eyes, +The mother of my Lionel, +Had tended me in my distress, +And died some months before. Nor less _1215 +Wonder, but far more peace and joy, +Brought in that hour my lovely boy; +For through that trance my soul had well +The impress of thy being kept; +And if I waked, or if I slept, _1220 +No doubt, though memory faithless be, +Thy image ever dwelt on me; +And thus, O Lionel, like thee +Is our sweet child. ’Tis sure most strange +I knew not of so great a change, _1225 +As that which gave him birth, who now +Is all the solace of my woe. + +That Lionel great wealth had left +By will to me, and that of all +The ready lies of law bereft _1230 +My child and me, might well befall. +But let me think not of the scorn, +Which from the meanest I have borne, +When, for my child’s beloved sake, +I mixed with slaves, to vindicate _1235 +The very laws themselves do make: +Let me not say scorn is my fate, +Lest I be proud, suffering the same +With those who live in deathless fame. + +She ceased.—‘Lo, where red morning thro’ the woods _1240 +Is burning o’er the dew;’ said Rosalind. +And with these words they rose, and towards the flood +Of the blue lake, beneath the leaves now wind +With equal steps and fingers intertwined: +Thence to a lonely dwelling, where the shore _1245 +Is shadowed with steep rocks, and cypresses +Cleave with their dark green cones the silent skies, +And with their shadows the clear depths below, +And where a little terrace from its bowers, +Of blooming myrtle and faint lemon-flowers, _1250 +Scatters its sense-dissolving fragrance o’er +The liquid marble of the windless lake; +And where the aged forest’s limbs look hoar, +Under the leaves which their green garments make, +They come: ’Tis Helen’s home, and clean and white, _1255 +Like one which tyrants spare on our own land +In some such solitude, its casements bright +Shone through their vine-leaves in the morning sun, +And even within ’twas scarce like Italy. +And when she saw how all things there were planned, _1260 +As in an English home, dim memory +Disturbed poor Rosalind: she stood as one +Whose mind is where his body cannot be, +Till Helen led her where her child yet slept, +And said, ‘Observe, that brow was Lionel’s, _1265 +Those lips were his, and so he ever kept +One arm in sleep, pillowing his head with it. +You cannot see his eyes—they are two wells +Of liquid love: let us not wake him yet.’ +But Rosalind could bear no more, and wept _1270 +A shower of burning tears, which fell upon +His face, and so his opening lashes shone +With tears unlike his own, as he did leap +In sudden wonder from his innocent sleep. + +So Rosalind and Helen lived together _1275 +Thenceforth, changed in all else, yet friends again, +Such as they were, when o’er the mountain heather +They wandered in their youth, through sun and rain. +And after many years, for human things +Change even like the ocean and the wind, _1280 +Her daughter was restored to Rosalind, +And in their circle thence some visitings +Of joy ‘mid their new calm would intervene: +A lovely child she was, of looks serene, +And motions which o’er things indifferent shed _1285 +The grace and gentleness from whence they came. +And Helen’s boy grew with her, and they fed +From the same flowers of thought, until each mind +Like springs which mingle in one flood became, +And in their union soon their parents saw _1290 +The shadow of the peace denied to them. +And Rosalind, for when the living stem +Is cankered in its heart, the tree must fall, +Died ere her time; and with deep grief and awe +The pale survivors followed her remains _1295 +Beyond the region of dissolving rains, +Up the cold mountain she was wont to call +Her tomb; and on Chiavenna’s precipice +They raised a pyramid of lasting ice, +Whose polished sides, ere day had yet begun, _1300 +Caught the first glow of the unrisen sun, +The last, when it had sunk; and thro’ the night +The charioteers of Arctos wheeled round +Its glittering point, as seen from Helen’s home, +Whose sad inhabitants each year would come, _1305 +With willing steps climbing that rugged height, +And hang long locks of hair, and garlands bound +With amaranth flowers, which, in the clime’s despite, +Filled the frore air with unaccustomed light: +Such flowers, as in the wintry memory bloom _1310 +Of one friend left, adorned that frozen tomb. + +Helen, whose spirit was of softer mould, +Whose sufferings too were less, Death slowlier led +Into the peace of his dominion cold: +She died among her kindred, being old. _1315 +And know, that if love die not in the dead +As in the living, none of mortal kind +Are blest, as now Helen and Rosalind. + + +NOTES: +_63 from there]from thee edition 1819. +_366 fell]ran edition 1819. +_405-_408 See Editor’s Note on this passage. +_551 Where]When edition 1819. +_572 Ay, overflowing]Aye overflowing edition 1819. +_612 dear]clear cj. Bradley. +_711 gore editions 1819, 1839. See Editor’s Note. +_932 Where]When edition 1819. +_1093-_1096 See Editor’s Note. +_1168-_1171] See Editor’s Note. +_1209 rescue]rescued edition 1819. See Editor’s Note. + + +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +“Rosalind and Helen” was begun at Marlow, and thrown aside—till I +found it; and, at my request, it was completed. Shelley had no care +for any of his poems that did not emanate from the depths of his mind, +and develop some high or abstruse truth. When he does touch on human +life and the human heart, no pictures can be more faithful, more +delicate, more subtle, or more pathetic. He never mentioned Love but +he shed a grace borrowed from his own nature, that scarcely any other +poet has bestowed on that passion. When he spoke of it as the law of +life, which inasmuch as we rebel against we err and injure ourselves +and others, he promulgated that which he considered an irrefragable +truth. In his eyes it was the essence of our being, and all woe and +pain arose from the war made against it by selfishness, or +insensibility, or mistake. By reverting in his mind to this first +principle, he discovered the source of many emotions, and could +disclose the secrets of all hearts, and his delineations of passion +and emotion touch the finest chords of our nature. + +“Rosalind and Helen” was finished during the summer of 1818, while we +were at the Baths of Lucca. + +*** + + +JULIAN AND MADDALO. + +A CONVERSATION. + +[Composed at Este after Shelley’s first visit to Venice, 1818 +(Autumn); first published in the “Posthumous Poems”, London, 1824 +(edition Mrs. Shelley). Shelley’s original intention had been to print +the poem in Leigh Hunt’s “Examiner”; but he changed his mind and, on +August 15, 1819, sent the manuscript to Hunt to be published +anonymously by Ollier. This manuscript, found by Mr. Townshend Mayer, +and by him placed in the hands of Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B., is +described at length in Mr. Forman’s Library Edition of the poems +(volume 3 page 107). The date, ‘May, 1819,’ affixed to “Julian and +Maddalo” in the “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, indicates the time when the +text was finally revised by Shelley. Sources of the text are (1) +“Posthumous Poems”, 1824; (2) the Hunt manuscript; (3) a fair draft of +the poem amongst the Boscombe manuscripts; (4) “Poetical Works”, 1839, +1st and 2nd editions (Mrs. Shelley). Our text is that of the Hunt +manuscript, as printed in Forman’s Library Edition of the Poems, 1876, +volume 3, pages 103-30; variants of 1824 are indicated in the +footnotes; questions of punctuation are dealt with in the notes at the +end of the volume.] + +PREFACE. + +The meadows with fresh streams, the bees with thyme, +The goats with the green leaves of budding Spring, +Are saturated not—nor Love with tears.—VIRGIL’S “Gallus”. + +Count Maddalo is a Venetian nobleman of ancient family and of great +fortune, who, without mixing much in the society of his countrymen, +resides chiefly at his magnificent palace in that city. He is a person +of the most consummate genius, and capable, if he would direct his +energies to such an end, of becoming the redeemer of his degraded +country. But it is his weakness to be proud: he derives, from a +comparison of his own extraordinary mind with the dwarfish intellects +that surround him, an intense apprehension of the nothingness of human +life. His passions and his powers are incomparably greater than those +of other men; and, instead of the latter having been employed in +curbing the former, they have mutually lent each other strength. His +ambition preys upon itself, for want of objects which it can consider +worthy of exertion. I say that Maddalo is proud, because I can find no +other word to express the concentred and impatient feelings which +consume him; but it is on his own hopes and affections only that he +seems to trample, for in social life no human being can be more +gentle, patient and unassuming than Maddalo. He is cheerful, frank and +witty. His more serious conversation is a sort of intoxication; men +are held by it as by a spell. He has travelled much; and there is an +inexpressible charm in his relation of his adventures in different +countries. + +Julian is an Englishman of good family, passionately attached to those +philosophical notions which assert the power of man over his own mind, +and the immense improvements of which, by the extinction of certain +moral superstitions, human society may be yet susceptible. Without +concealing the evil in the world he is for ever speculating how good +may be made superior. He is a complete infidel, and a scoffer at all +things reputed holy; and Maddalo takes a wicked pleasure in drawing +out his taunts against religion. What Maddalo thinks on these matters +is not exactly known. Julian, in spite of his heterodox opinions, is +conjectured by his friends to possess some good qualities. How far +this is possible the pious reader will determine. Julian is rather +serious. + +Of the Maniac I can give no information. He seems, by his own account, +to have been disappointed in love. He was evidently a very cultivated +and amiable person when in his right senses. His story, told at +length, might be like many other stories of the same kind: the +unconnected exclamations of his agony will perhaps be found a +sufficient comment for the text of every heart. + + +I rode one evening with Count Maddalo +Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow +Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand +Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand, +Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds, _5 +Such as from earth’s embrace the salt ooze breeds, +Is this; an uninhabited sea-side, +Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, +Abandons; and no other object breaks +The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes _10 +Broken and unrepaired, and the tide makes +A narrow space of level sand thereon, +Where ’twas our wont to ride while day went down. +This ride was my delight. I love all waste +And solitary places; where we taste _15 +The pleasure of believing what we see +Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be: +And such was this wide ocean, and this shore +More barren than its billows; and yet more +Than all, with a remembered friend I love _20 +To ride as then I rode;—for the winds drove +The living spray along the sunny air +Into our faces; the blue heavens were bare, +Stripped to their depths by the awakening north; +And, from the waves, sound like delight broke forth _25 +Harmonising with solitude, and sent +Into our hearts aereal merriment. +So, as we rode, we talked; and the swift thought, +Winging itself with laughter, lingered not, +But flew from brain to brain,—such glee was ours, _30 +Charged with light memories of remembered hours, +None slow enough for sadness: till we came +Homeward, which always makes the spirit tame. +This day had been cheerful but cold, and now +The sun was sinking, and the wind also. _35 +Our talk grew somewhat serious, as may be +Talk interrupted with such raillery +As mocks itself, because it cannot scorn +The thoughts it would extinguish: —’twas forlorn, +Yet pleasing, such as once, so poets tell, _40 +The devils held within the dales of Hell +Concerning God, freewill and destiny: +Of all that earth has been or yet may be, +All that vain men imagine or believe, +Or hope can paint or suffering may achieve, _45 +We descanted; and I (for ever still +Is it not wise to make the best of ill?) +Argued against despondency, but pride +Made my companion take the darker side. +The sense that he was greater than his kind _50 +Had struck, methinks, his eagle spirit blind +By gazing on its own exceeding light. +Meanwhile the sun paused ere it should alight, +Over the horizon of the mountains;—Oh, +How beautiful is sunset, when the glow _55 +Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee, +Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy! +Thy mountains, seas and vineyards, and the towers +Of cities they encircle!—it was ours +To stand on thee, beholding it: and then, _60 +Just where we had dismounted, the Count’s men +Were waiting for us with the gondola.— +As those who pause on some delightful way +Though bent on pleasant pilgrimage, we stood +Looking upon the evening, and the flood _65 +Which lay between the city and the shore, +Paved with the image of the sky...the hoar +And aery Alps towards the North appeared +Through mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark reared +Between the East and West; and half the sky _70 +Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry +Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew +Down the steep West into a wondrous hue +Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent +Where the swift sun yet paused in his descent _75 +Among the many-folded hills: they were +Those famous Euganean hills, which bear, +As seen from Lido thro’ the harbour piles, +The likeness of a clump of peaked isles— +And then—as if the Earth and Sea had been _80 +Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen +Those mountains towering as from waves of flame +Around the vaporous sun, from which there came +The inmost purple spirit of light, and made +Their very peaks transparent. ‘Ere it fade,’ _85 +Said my companion, ‘I will show you soon +A better station’—so, o’er the lagune +We glided; and from that funereal bark +I leaned, and saw the city, and could mark +How from their many isles, in evening’s gleam, _90 +Its temples and its palaces did seem +Like fabrics of enchantment piled to Heaven. +I was about to speak, when—‘We are even +Now at the point I meant,’ said Maddalo, +And bade the gondolieri cease to row. _95 +‘Look, Julian, on the west, and listen well +If you hear not a deep and heavy bell.’ +I looked, and saw between us and the sun +A building on an island; such a one +As age to age might add, for uses vile, _100 +A windowless, deformed and dreary pile; +And on the top an open tower, where hung +A bell, which in the radiance swayed and swung; +We could just hear its hoarse and iron tongue: +The broad sun sunk behind it, and it tolled _105 +In strong and black relief.—‘What we behold +Shall be the madhouse and its belfry tower,’ +Said Maddalo, ‘and ever at this hour +Those who may cross the water, hear that bell +Which calls the maniacs, each one from his cell, _110 +To vespers.’—‘As much skill as need to pray +In thanks or hope for their dark lot have they +To their stern maker,’ I replied. ‘O ho! +You talk as in years past,’ said Maddalo. +‘’Tis strange men change not. You were ever still _115 +Among Christ’s flock a perilous infidel, +A wolf for the meek lambs—if you can’t swim +Beware of Providence.’ I looked on him, +But the gay smile had faded in his eye. +‘And such,’—he cried, ‘is our mortality, _120 +And this must be the emblem and the sign +Of what should be eternal and divine!— +And like that black and dreary bell, the soul, +Hung in a heaven-illumined tower, must toll +Our thoughts and our desires to meet below _125 +Round the rent heart and pray—as madmen do +For what? they know not,—till the night of death +As sunset that strange vision, severeth +Our memory from itself, and us from all +We sought and yet were baffled.’ I recall _130 +The sense of what he said, although I mar +The force of his expressions. The broad star +Of day meanwhile had sunk behind the hill, +And the black bell became invisible, +And the red tower looked gray, and all between _135 +The churches, ships and palaces were seen +Huddled in gloom;—into the purple sea +The orange hues of heaven sunk silently. +We hardly spoke, and soon the gondola +Conveyed me to my lodging by the way. _140 +The following morn was rainy, cold, and dim: +Ere Maddalo arose, I called on him, +And whilst I waited with his child I played; +A lovelier toy sweet Nature never made; +A serious, subtle, wild, yet gentle being, _145 +Graceful without design and unforeseeing, +With eyes—Oh speak not of her eyes!—which seem +Twin mirrors of Italian Heaven, yet gleam +With such deep meaning, as we never see +But in the human countenance: with me _150 +She was a special favourite: I had nursed +Her fine and feeble limbs when she came first +To this bleak world; and she yet seemed to know +On second sight her ancient playfellow, +Less changed than she was by six months or so; _155 +For after her first shyness was worn out +We sate there, rolling billiard balls about, +When the Count entered. Salutations past— +‘The word you spoke last night might well have cast +A darkness on my spirit—if man be _160 +The passive thing you say, I should not see +Much harm in the religions and old saws +(Tho’ I may never own such leaden laws) +Which break a teachless nature to the yoke: +Mine is another faith.’—thus much I spoke _165 +And noting he replied not, added: ‘See +This lovely child, blithe, innocent and free; +She spends a happy time with little care, +While we to such sick thoughts subjected are +As came on you last night. It is our will _170 +That thus enchains us to permitted ill— +We might be otherwise—we might be all +We dream of happy, high, majestical. +Where is the love, beauty, and truth we seek, +But in our mind? and if we were not weak _175 +Should we be less in deed than in desire?’ +‘Ay, if we were not weak—and we aspire +How vainly to be strong!’ said Maddalo: +‘You talk Utopia.’ ‘It remains to know,’ +I then rejoined, ‘and those who try may find _180 +How strong the chains are which our spirit bind; +Brittle perchance as straw...We are assured +Much may be conquered, much may be endured, +Of what degrades and crushes us. We know +That we have power over ourselves to do _185 +And suffer—what, we know not till we try; +But something nobler than to live and die— +So taught those kings of old philosophy +Who reigned, before Religion made men blind; +And those who suffer with their suffering kind _190 +Yet feel their faith, religion.’ ‘My dear friend,’ +Said Maddalo, ‘my judgement will not bend +To your opinion, though I think you might +Make such a system refutation-tight +As far as words go. I knew one like you _195 +Who to this city came some months ago, +With whom I argued in this sort, and he +Is now gone mad,—and so he answered me,— +Poor fellow! but if you would like to go, +We’ll visit him, and his wild talk will show _200 +How vain are such aspiring theories.’ +‘I hope to prove the induction otherwise, +And that a want of that true theory, still, +Which seeks a “soul of goodness” in things ill +Or in himself or others, has thus bowed _205 +His being—there are some by nature proud, +Who patient in all else demand but this— +To love and be beloved with gentleness; +And being scorned, what wonder if they die +Some living death? this is not destiny _210 +But man’s own wilful ill.’ +As thus I spoke +Servants announced the gondola, and we +Through the fast-falling rain and high-wrought sea +Sailed to the island where the madhouse stands. +We disembarked. The clap of tortured hands, _215 +Fierce yells and howlings and lamentings keen, +And laughter where complaint had merrier been, +Moans, shrieks, and curses, and blaspheming prayers +Accosted us. We climbed the oozy stairs +Into an old courtyard. I heard on high, _220 +Then, fragments of most touching melody, +But looking up saw not the singer there— +Through the black bars in the tempestuous air +I saw, like weeds on a wrecked palace growing, +Long tangled locks flung wildly forth, and flowing, _225 +Of those who on a sudden were beguiled +Into strange silence, and looked forth and smiled +Hearing sweet sounds. Then I: ‘Methinks there were +A cure of these with patience and kind care, +If music can thus move...but what is he _230 +Whom we seek here?’ ‘Of his sad history +I know but this,’ said Maddalo: ‘he came +To Venice a dejected man, and fame +Said he was wealthy, or he had been so; +Some thought the loss of fortune wrought him woe; _235 +But he was ever talking in such sort +As you do—far more sadly—he seemed hurt, +Even as a man with his peculiar wrong, +To hear but of the oppression of the strong, +Or those absurd deceits (I think with you _240 +In some respects, you know) which carry through +The excellent impostors of this earth +When they outface detection—he had worth, +Poor fellow! but a humorist in his way’— +‘Alas, what drove him mad?’ ‘I cannot say: _245 +A lady came with him from France, and when +She left him and returned, he wandered then +About yon lonely isles of desert sand +Till he grew wild—he had no cash or land +Remaining,—the police had brought him here— _250 +Some fancy took him and he would not bear +Removal; so I fitted up for him +Those rooms beside the sea, to please his whim, +And sent him busts and books and urns for flowers, +Which had adorned his life in happier hours, _255 +And instruments of music—you may guess +A stranger could do little more or less +For one so gentle and unfortunate: +And those are his sweet strains which charm the weight +From madmen’s chains, and make this Hell appear _260 +A heaven of sacred silence, hushed to hear.’— +‘Nay, this was kind of you—he had no claim, +As the world says’—‘None—but the very same +Which I on all mankind were I as he +Fallen to such deep reverse;—his melody _265 +Is interrupted—now we hear the din +Of madmen, shriek on shriek, again begin; +Let us now visit him; after this strain +He ever communes with himself again, +And sees nor hears not any.’ Having said _270 +These words, we called the keeper, and he led +To an apartment opening on the sea— +There the poor wretch was sitting mournfully +Near a piano, his pale fingers twined +One with the other, and the ooze and wind _275 +Rushed through an open casement, and did sway +His hair, and starred it with the brackish spray; +His head was leaning on a music book, +And he was muttering, and his lean limbs shook; +His lips were pressed against a folded leaf _280 +In hue too beautiful for health, and grief +Smiled in their motions as they lay apart— +As one who wrought from his own fervid heart +The eloquence of passion, soon he raised +His sad meek face and eyes lustrous and glazed _285 +And spoke—sometimes as one who wrote, and thought +His words might move some heart that heeded not, +If sent to distant lands: and then as one +Reproaching deeds never to be undone +With wondering self-compassion; then his speech _290 +Was lost in grief, and then his words came each +Unmodulated, cold, expressionless,— +But that from one jarred accent you might guess +It was despair made them so uniform: +And all the while the loud and gusty storm _295 +Hissed through the window, and we stood behind +Stealing his accents from the envious wind +Unseen. I yet remember what he said +Distinctly: such impression his words made. + +‘Month after month,’ he cried, ‘to bear this load _300 +And as a jade urged by the whip and goad +To drag life on, which like a heavy chain +Lengthens behind with many a link of pain!— +And not to speak my grief—O, not to dare +To give a human voice to my despair, _305 +But live, and move, and, wretched thing! smile on +As if I never went aside to groan, +And wear this mask of falsehood even to those +Who are most dear—not for my own repose— +Alas! no scorn or pain or hate could be _310 +So heavy as that falsehood is to me— +But that I cannot bear more altered faces +Than needs must be, more changed and cold embraces, +More misery, disappointment, and mistrust +To own me for their father...Would the dust _315 +Were covered in upon my body now! +That the life ceased to toil within my brow! +And then these thoughts would at the least be fled; +Let us not fear such pain can vex the dead. + +‘What Power delights to torture us? I know _320 +That to myself I do not wholly owe +What now I suffer, though in part I may. +Alas! none strewed sweet flowers upon the way +Where wandering heedlessly, I met pale Pain +My shadow, which will leave me not again— _325 +If I have erred, there was no joy in error, +But pain and insult and unrest and terror; +I have not as some do, bought penitence +With pleasure, and a dark yet sweet offence, +For then,—if love and tenderness and truth _330 +Had overlived hope’s momentary youth, +My creed should have redeemed me from repenting; +But loathed scorn and outrage unrelenting +Met love excited by far other seeming +Until the end was gained...as one from dreaming _335 +Of sweetest peace, I woke, and found my state +Such as it is.— +‘O Thou, my spirit’s mate +Who, for thou art compassionate and wise, +Wouldst pity me from thy most gentle eyes +If this sad writing thou shouldst ever see— _340 +My secret groans must be unheard by thee, +Thou wouldst weep tears bitter as blood to know +Thy lost friend’s incommunicable woe. + +‘Ye few by whom my nature has been weighed +In friendship, let me not that name degrade _345 +By placing on your hearts the secret load +Which crushes mine to dust. There is one road +To peace and that is truth, which follow ye! +Love sometimes leads astray to misery. +Yet think not though subdued—and I may well _350 +Say that I am subdued—that the full Hell +Within me would infect the untainted breast +Of sacred nature with its own unrest; +As some perverted beings think to find +In scorn or hate a medicine for the mind _355 +Which scorn or hate have wounded—O how vain! +The dagger heals not but may rend again... +Believe that I am ever still the same +In creed as in resolve, and what may tame +My heart, must leave the understanding free, _360 +Or all would sink in this keen agony— +Nor dream that I will join the vulgar cry; +Or with my silence sanction tyranny; +Or seek a moment’s shelter from my pain +In any madness which the world calls gain, _365 +Ambition or revenge or thoughts as stern +As those which make me what I am; or turn +To avarice or misanthropy or lust... +Heap on me soon, O grave, thy welcome dust! +Till then the dungeon may demand its prey, _370 +And Poverty and Shame may meet and say— +Halting beside me on the public way— +“That love-devoted youth is ours—let’s sit +Beside him—he may live some six months yet.” +Or the red scaffold, as our country bends, _375 +May ask some willing victim; or ye friends +May fall under some sorrow which this heart +Or hand may share or vanquish or avert; +I am prepared—in truth, with no proud joy— +To do or suffer aught, as when a boy _380 +I did devote to justice and to love +My nature, worthless now!... +‘I must remove +A veil from my pent mind. ’Tis torn aside! +O, pallid as Death’s dedicated bride, +Thou mockery which art sitting by my side, _385 +Am I not wan like thee? at the grave’s call +I haste, invited to thy wedding-ball +To greet the ghastly paramour, for whom +Thou hast deserted me...and made the tomb +Thy bridal bed...But I beside your feet _390 +Will lie and watch ye from my winding-sheet— +Thus...wide awake tho’ dead...yet stay, O stay! +Go not so soon—I know not what I say— +Hear but my reasons...I am mad, I fear, +My fancy is o’erwrought...thou art not here... _395 +Pale art thou, ’tis most true...but thou art gone, +Thy work is finished...I am left alone!— +... +‘Nay, was it I who wooed thee to this breast +Which, like a serpent, thou envenomest +As in repayment of the warmth it lent? _400 +Didst thou not seek me for thine own content? +Did not thy love awaken mine? I thought +That thou wert she who said, “You kiss me not +Ever, I fear you do not love me now”— +In truth I loved even to my overthrow _405 +Her, who would fain forget these words: but they +Cling to her mind, and cannot pass away. +... +‘You say that I am proud—that when I speak +My lip is tortured with the wrongs which break +The spirit it expresses...Never one _410 +Humbled himself before, as I have done! +Even the instinctive worm on which we tread +Turns, though it wound not—then with prostrate head +Sinks in the dusk and writhes like me—and dies? +No: wears a living death of agonies! _415 +As the slow shadows of the pointed grass +Mark the eternal periods, his pangs pass, +Slow, ever-moving,—making moments be +As mine seem—each an immortality! +... +‘That you had never seen me—never heard _420 +My voice, and more than all had ne’er endured +The deep pollution of my loathed embrace— +That your eyes ne’er had lied love in my face— +That, like some maniac monk, I had torn out +The nerves of manhood by their bleeding root _425 +With mine own quivering fingers, so that ne’er +Our hearts had for a moment mingled there +To disunite in horror—these were not +With thee, like some suppressed and hideous thought +Which flits athwart our musings, but can find _430 +No rest within a pure and gentle mind... +Thou sealedst them with many a bare broad word, +And searedst my memory o’er them,—for I heard +And can forget not...they were ministered +One after one, those curses. Mix them up _435 +Like self-destroying poisons in one cup, +And they will make one blessing which thou ne’er +Didst imprecate for, on me,—death. +... +‘It were +A cruel punishment for one most cruel, +If such can love, to make that love the fuel _440 +Of the mind’s hell; hate, scorn, remorse, despair: +But ME—whose heart a stranger’s tear might wear +As water-drops the sandy fountain-stone, +Who loved and pitied all things, and could moan +For woes which others hear not, and could see _445 +The absent with the glance of phantasy, +And with the poor and trampled sit and weep, +Following the captive to his dungeon deep; +ME—who am as a nerve o’er which do creep +The else unfelt oppressions of this earth, _450 +And was to thee the flame upon thy hearth, +When all beside was cold—that thou on me +Shouldst rain these plagues of blistering agony— +Such curses are from lips once eloquent +With love’s too partial praise—let none relent _455 +Who intend deeds too dreadful for a name +Henceforth, if an example for the same +They seek...for thou on me lookedst so, and so— +And didst speak thus...and thus...I live to show +How much men bear and die not! +... +‘Thou wilt tell _460 +With the grimace of hate, how horrible +It was to meet my love when thine grew less; +Thou wilt admire how I could e’er address +Such features to love’s work...this taunt, though true, +(For indeed Nature nor in form nor hue _465 +Bestowed on me her choicest workmanship) +Shall not be thy defence...for since thy lip +Met mine first, years long past, since thine eye kindled +With soft fire under mine, I have not dwindled +Nor changed in mind or body, or in aught _470 +But as love changes what it loveth not +After long years and many trials. + +‘How vain +Are words! I thought never to speak again, +Not even in secret,—not to mine own heart— +But from my lips the unwilling accents start, _475 +And from my pen the words flow as I write, +Dazzling my eyes with scalding tears...my sight +Is dim to see that charactered in vain +On this unfeeling leaf which burns the brain +And eats into it...blotting all things fair _480 +And wise and good which time had written there. + +‘Those who inflict must suffer, for they see +The work of their own hearts, and this must be +Our chastisement or recompense—O child! +I would that thine were like to be more mild _485 +For both our wretched sakes...for thine the most +Who feelest already all that thou hast lost +Without the power to wish it thine again; +And as slow years pass, a funereal train +Each with the ghost of some lost hope or friend _490 +Following it like its shadow, wilt thou bend +No thought on my dead memory? +... +‘Alas, love! +Fear me not...against thee I would not move +A finger in despite. Do I not live +That thou mayst have less bitter cause to grieve? _495 +I give thee tears for scorn and love for hate; +And that thy lot may be less desolate +Than his on whom thou tramplest, I refrain +From that sweet sleep which medicines all pain. +Then, when thou speakest of me, never say _500 +“He could forgive not.” Here I cast away +All human passions, all revenge, all pride; +I think, speak, act no ill; I do but hide +Under these words, like embers, every spark +Of that which has consumed me—quick and dark _505 +The grave is yawning...as its roof shall cover +My limbs with dust and worms under and over +So let Oblivion hide this grief...the air +Closes upon my accents, as despair +Upon my heart—let death upon despair!’ _510 + +He ceased, and overcome leant back awhile, +Then rising, with a melancholy smile +Went to a sofa, and lay down, and slept +A heavy sleep, and in his dreams he wept +And muttered some familiar name, and we _515 +Wept without shame in his society. +I think I never was impressed so much; +The man who were not, must have lacked a touch +Of human nature...then we lingered not, +Although our argument was quite forgot, _520 +But calling the attendants, went to dine +At Maddalo’s; yet neither cheer nor wine +Could give us spirits, for we talked of him +And nothing else, till daylight made stars dim; +And we agreed his was some dreadful ill _525 +Wrought on him boldly, yet unspeakable, +By a dear friend; some deadly change in love +Of one vowed deeply which he dreamed not of; +For whose sake he, it seemed, had fixed a blot +Of falsehood on his mind which flourished not _530 +But in the light of all-beholding truth; +And having stamped this canker on his youth +She had abandoned him—and how much more +Might be his woe, we guessed not—he had store +Of friends and fortune once, as we could guess _535 +From his nice habits and his gentleness; +These were now lost...it were a grief indeed +If he had changed one unsustaining reed +For all that such a man might else adorn. +The colours of his mind seemed yet unworn; _540 +For the wild language of his grief was high, +Such as in measure were called poetry; +And I remember one remark which then +Maddalo made. He said: ‘Most wretched men +Are cradled into poetry by wrong, _545 +They learn in suffering what they teach in song.’ + +If I had been an unconnected man, +I, from this moment, should have formed some plan +Never to leave sweet Venice,—for to me +It was delight to ride by the lone sea; _550 +And then, the town is silent—one may write +Or read in gondolas by day or night, +Having the little brazen lamp alight, +Unseen, uninterrupted; books are there, +Pictures, and casts from all those statues fair _555 +Which were twin-born with poetry, and all +We seek in towns, with little to recall +Regrets for the green country. I might sit +In Maddalo’s great palace, and his wit +And subtle talk would cheer the winter night _560 +And make me know myself, and the firelight +Would flash upon our faces, till the day +Might dawn and make me wonder at my stay: +But I had friends in London too: the chief +Attraction here, was that I sought relief _565 +From the deep tenderness that maniac wrought +Within me—’twas perhaps an idle thought— +But I imagined that if day by day +I watched him, and but seldom went away, +And studied all the beatings of his heart _570 +With zeal, as men study some stubborn art +For their own good, and could by patience find +An entrance to the caverns of his mind, +I might reclaim him from this dark estate: +In friendships I had been most fortunate— _575 +Yet never saw I one whom I would call +More willingly my friend; and this was all +Accomplished not; such dreams of baseless good +Oft come and go in crowds or solitude +And leave no trace—but what I now designed _580 +Made for long years impression on my mind. +The following morning, urged by my affairs, +I left bright Venice. +After many years +And many changes I returned; the name +Of Venice, and its aspect, was the same; _585 +But Maddalo was travelling far away +Among the mountains of Armenia. +His dog was dead. His child had now become +A woman; such as it has been my doom +To meet with few,—a wonder of this earth, _590 +Where there is little of transcendent worth, +Like one of Shakespeare’s women: kindly she, +And, with a manner beyond courtesy, +Received her father’s friend; and when I asked +Of the lorn maniac, she her memory tasked, _595 +And told as she had heard the mournful tale: +‘That the poor sufferer’s health began to fail +Two years from my departure, but that then +The lady who had left him, came again. +Her mien had been imperious, but she now _600 +Looked meek—perhaps remorse had brought her low. +Her coming made him better, and they stayed +Together at my father’s—for I played, +As I remember, with the lady’s shawl— +I might be six years old—but after all _605 +She left him.’...’Why, her heart must have been tough: +How did it end?’ ‘And was not this enough? +They met—they parted.’—‘Child, is there no more?’ +‘Something within that interval which bore +The stamp of WHY they parted, HOW they met: _610 +Yet if thine aged eyes disdain to wet +Those wrinkled cheeks with youth’s remembered tears, +Ask me no more, but let the silent years +Be closed and cered over their memory +As yon mute marble where their corpses lie.’ _615 +I urged and questioned still, she told me how +All happened—but the cold world shall not know. + + +CANCELLED FRAGMENTS OF JULIAN AND MADDALO. + +‘What think you the dead are?’ ‘Why, dust and clay, +What should they be?’ ‘’Tis the last hour of day. +Look on the west, how beautiful it is _620 +Vaulted with radiant vapours! The deep bliss +Of that unutterable light has made +The edges of that cloud ... fade +Into a hue, like some harmonious thought, +Wasting itself on that which it had wrought, _625 +Till it dies ... and ... between +The light hues of the tender, pure, serene, +And infinite tranquillity of heaven. +Ay, beautiful! but when not...’ +... +‘Perhaps the only comfort which remains _630 +Is the unheeded clanking of my chains, +The which I make, and call it melody.’ + + +NOTES: +_45 may Hunt manuscript; can 1824. +_99 a one Hunt manuscript; an one 1824. +_105 sunk Hunt manuscript; sank 1824. +_108 ever Hunt manuscript; even 1824. +_119 in Hunt manuscript; from 1824. +_124 a Hunt manuscript; an 1824. +_171 That Hunt manuscript; Which 1824. +_175 mind Hunt manuscript; minds 1824. +_179 know 1824; see Hunt manuscript. +_188 those Hunt manuscript; the 1824. +_191 their Hunt manuscript; this 1824. +_218 Moons, etc., Hunt manuscript; + The line is wanting in editions 1824 and 1839. +_237 far Hunt manuscript; but 1824. +_270 nor Hunt manuscript; and 1824. +_292 cold Hunt manuscript; and 1824. +_318 least Hunt manuscript; last 1824. +_323 sweet Hunt manuscript; fresh 1824. +_356 have Hunt manuscript; hath 1824. +_361 in this keen Hunt manuscript; under this 1824. +_362 cry Hunt manuscript; eye 1824. +_372 on Hunt manuscript; in 1824. +_388 greet Hunt manuscript; meet 1824. +_390 your Hunt manuscript; thy 1824. +_417 his Hunt manuscript; its 1824. +_446 glance Hunt manuscript; glass 1824. +_447 with Hunt manuscript; near 1824. +_467 lip Hunt manuscript; life 1824. +_483 this Hunt manuscript; that 1824. +_493 I would Hunt manuscript; I’d 1824. +_510 despair Hunt manuscript; my care 1839. +_511 leant] See Editor’s Note. +_518 were Hunt manuscript; was 1839. +_525 his Hunt manuscript; it 1824. +_530 on Hunt manuscript; in 1824. +_537 were now Hunt manuscript; now were 1824. +_588 regrets Hunt manuscript; regret 1824. +_569 but Hunt manuscript; + wanting in editions 1824 and 1839. +_574 his 1824; this [?] Hunt manuscript. + + +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +From the Baths of Lucca, in 1818, Shelley visited Venice; and, +circumstances rendering it eligible that we should remain a few weeks +in the neighbourhood of that city, he accepted the offer of Lord +Byron, who lent him the use of a villa he rented near Este; and he +sent for his family from Lucca to join him. + +I Capuccini was a villa built on the site of a Capuchin convent, +demolished when the French suppressed religious houses; it was +situated on the very overhanging brow of a low hill at the foot of a +range of higher ones. The house was cheerful and pleasant; a +vine-trellised walk, a pergola, as it is called in Italian, led from +the hall-door to a summer-house at the end of the garden, which +Shelley made his study, and in which he began the “Prometheus”; and +here also, as he mentions in a letter, he wrote “Julian and Maddalo”. +A slight ravine, with a road in its depth, divided the garden from the +hill, on which stood the ruins of the ancient castle of Este, whose +dark massive wall gave forth an echo, and from whose ruined crevices +owls and bats flitted forth at night, as the crescent moon sunk behind +the black and heavy battlements. We looked from the garden over the +wide plain of Lombardy, bounded to the west by the far Apennines, +while to the east the horizon was lost in misty distance. After the +picturesque but limited view of mountain, ravine, and chestnut-wood, +at the Baths of Lucca, there was something infinitely gratifying to +the eye in the wide range of prospect commanded by our new abode. + +Our first misfortune, of the kind from which we soon suffered even +more severely, happened here. Our little girl, an infant in whose +small features I fancied that I traced great resemblance to her +father, showed symptoms of suffering from the heat of the climate. +Teething increased her illness and danger. We were at Este, and when +we became alarmed, hastened to Venice for the best advice. When we +arrived at Fusina, we found that we had forgotten our passport, and +the soldiers on duty attempted to prevent our crossing the laguna; but +they could not resist Shelley’s impetuosity at such a moment. We had +scarcely arrived at Venice before life fled from the little sufferer, +and we returned to Este to weep her loss. + +After a few weeks spent in this retreat, which was interspersed by +visits to Venice, we proceeded southward. + +*** + + +PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. + +A LYRICAL DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS. + +AUDISNE HAEC AMPHIARAE, SUB TERRAM ABDITE? + +[Composed at Este, September, October, 1818 (Act 1); at Rome, +March-April 6, 1819 (Acts 2, 3); at Florence, close of 1819 (Act 4). +Published by C. and J. Ollier, London, summer of 1820. Sources of the +text are (1) edition of 1820; (2) text in “Poetical Works”, 1839, +prepared with the aid of a list of errata in (1) written out by +Shelley; (3) a fair draft in Shelley’s autograph, now in the Bodleian. +This has been carefully collated by Mr. C.D. Locock, who prints the +result in his “Examination of the Shelley Manuscripts in the Bodleian +Library”, Oxford (Clarendon Press), 1903. Our text is that of 1820, +modified by edition 1839, and by the Bodleian fair copy. In the +following notes B = the Bodleian manuscript; 1820 = the editio +princeps, printed by Marchant for C. and J. Ollier, London; and 1839 = +the text as edited by Mrs. Shelley in the “Poetical Works”, 1st and +2nd editions, 1839. The reader should consult the notes on the Play at +the end of the volume.] + + +PREFACE. + +The Greek tragic writers, in selecting as their subject any portion of +their national history or mythology, employed in their treatment of it +a certain arbitrary discretion. They by no means conceived themselves +bound to adhere to the common interpretation or to imitate in story as +in title their rivals and predecessors. Such a system would have +amounted to a resignation of those claims to preference over their +competitors which incited the composition. The Agamemnonian story was +exhibited on the Athenian theatre with as many variations as dramas. + +I have presumed to employ a similar license. The “Prometheus Unbound” +of Aeschylus supposed the reconciliation of Jupiter with his victim as +the price of the disclosure of the danger threatened to his empire by +the consummation of his marriage with Thetis. Thetis, according to +this view of the subject, was given in marriage to Peleus, and +Prometheus, by the permission of Jupiter, delivered from his captivity +by Hercules. Had I framed my story on this model, I should have done +no more than have attempted to restore the lost drama of Aeschylus; an +ambition which, if my preference to this mode of treating the subject +had incited me to cherish, the recollection of the high comparison +such an attempt would challenge might well abate. But, in truth, I was +averse from a catastrophe so feeble as that of reconciling the +Champion with the Oppressor of mankind. The moral interest of the +fable, which is so powerfully sustained by the sufferings and +endurance of Prometheus, would be annihilated if we could conceive of +him as unsaying his high language and quailing before his successful +and perfidious adversary. The only imaginary being resembling in any +degree Prometheus, is Satan; and Prometheus is, in my judgement, a +more poetical character than Satan, because, in addition to courage, +and majesty, and firm and patient opposition to omnipotent force, he +is susceptible of being described as exempt from the taints of +ambition, envy, revenge, and a desire for personal aggrandisement, +which, in the Hero of “Paradise Lost”, interfere with the interest. +The character of Satan engenders in the mind a pernicious casuistry +which leads us to weigh his faults with his wrongs, and to excuse the +former because the latter exceed all measure. In the minds of those +who consider that magnificent fiction with a religious feeling it +engenders something worse. But Prometheus is, as it were, the type of +the highest perfection of moral and intellectual nature, impelled by +the purest and the truest motives to the best and noblest ends. + +This Poem was chiefly written upon the mountainous ruins of the Baths +of Caracalla, among the flowery glades, and thickets of odoriferous +blossoming trees, which are extended in ever winding labyrinths upon +its immense platforms and dizzy arches suspended in the air. The +bright blue sky of Rome, and the effect of the vigorous awakening +spring in that divinest climate, and the new life with which it +drenches the spirits even to intoxication, were the inspiration of +this drama. + +The imagery which I have employed will be found, in many instances, to +have been drawn from the operations of the human mind, or from those +external actions by which they are expressed. This is unusual in +modern poetry, although Dante and Shakespeare are full of instances of +the same kind: Dante indeed more than any other poet, and with greater +success. But the Greek poets, as writers to whom no resource of +awakening the sympathy of their contemporaries was unknown, were in +the habitual use of this power; and it is the study of their works +(since a higher merit would probably be denied me) to which I am +willing that my readers should impute this singularity. + +One word is due in candour to the degree in which the study of +contemporary writings may have tinged my composition, for such has +been a topic of censure with regard to poems far more popular, and +indeed more deservedly popular, than mine. It is impossible that any +one who inhabits the same age with such writers as those who stand in +the foremost ranks of our own, can conscientiously assure himself that +his language and tone of thought may not have been modified by the +study of the productions of those extraordinary intellects. It is +true, that, not the spirit of their genius, but the forms in which it +has manifested itself, are due less to the peculiarities of their own +minds than to the peculiarity of the moral and intellectual condition +of the minds among which they have been produced. Thus a number of +writers possess the form, whilst they want the spirit of those whom, +it is alleged, they imitate; because the former is the endowment of +the age in which they live, and the latter must be the uncommunicated +lightning of their own mind. + +The peculiar style of intense and comprehensive imagery which +distinguishes the modern literature of England has not been, as a +general power, the product of the imitation of any particular writer. +The mass of capabilities remains at every period materially the same; +the circumstances which awaken it to action perpetually change. If +England were divided into forty republics, each equal in population +and extent to Athens, there is no reason to suppose but that, under +institutions not more perfect than those of Athens, each would produce +philosophers and poets equal to those who (if we except Shakespeare) +have never been surpassed. We owe the great writers of the golden age +of our literature to that fervid awakening of the public mind which +shook to dust the oldest and most oppressive form of the Christian +religion. We owe Milton to the progress and development of the same +spirit: the sacred Milton was, let it ever be remembered, a +republican, and a bold inquirer into morals and religion. The great +writers of our own age are, we have reason to suppose, the companions +and forerunners of some unimagined change in our social condition or +the opinions which cement it. The cloud of mind is discharging its +collected lightning, and the equilibrium between institutions and +opinions is now restoring, or is about to be restored. + +As to imitation, poetry is a mimetic art. It creates, but it creates +by combination and representation. Poetical abstractions are beautiful +and new, not because the portions of which they are composed had no +previous existence in the mind of man or in nature, but because the +whole produced by their combination has some intelligible and +beautiful analogy with those sources of emotion and thought, and with +the contemporary condition of them: one great poet is a masterpiece of +nature which another not only ought to study but must study. He might +as wisely and as easily determine that his mind should no longer be +the mirror of all that is lovely in the visible universe as exclude +from his contemplation the beautiful which exists in the writings of a +great contemporary. The pretence of doing it would be a presumption in +any but the greatest; the effect, even in him, would be strained, +unnatural and ineffectual. A poet is the combined product of such +internal powers as modify the nature of others; and of such external +influences as excite and sustain these powers; he is not one, but +both. Every man’s mind is, in this respect, modified by all the +objects of nature and art; by every word and every suggestion which he +ever admitted to act upon his consciousness; it is the mirror upon +which all forms are reflected, and in which they compose one form. +Poets, not otherwise than philosophers, painters, sculptors and +musicians, are, in one sense, the creators, and, in another, the +creations, of their age. From this subjection the loftiest do not +escape. There is a similarity between Homer and Hesiod, between +Aeschylus and Euripides, between Virgil and Horace, between Dante and +Petrarch, between Shakespeare and Fletcher, between Dryden and Pope; +each has a generic resemblance under which their specific distinctions +are arranged. If this similarity be the result of imitation, I am +willing to confess that I have imitated. + +Let this opportunity be conceded to me of acknowledging that I have, +what a Scotch philosopher characteristically terms, ‘a passion for +reforming the world:’ what passion incited him to write and publish +his book, he omits to explain. For my part I had rather be damned with +Plato and Lord Bacon, than go to Heaven with Paley and Malthus. But it +is a mistake to suppose that I dedicate my poetical compositions +solely to the direct enforcement of reform, or that I consider them in +any degree as containing a reasoned system on the theory of human +life. Didactic poetry is my abhorrence; nothing can be equally well +expressed in prose that is not tedious and supererogatory in verse. My +purpose has hitherto been simply to familiarise the highly refined +imagination of the more select classes of poetical readers with +beautiful idealisms of moral excellence; aware that until the mind can +love, and admire, and trust, and hope, and endure, reasoned principles +of moral conduct are seeds cast upon the highway of life which the +unconscious passenger tramples into dust, although they would bear the +harvest of his happiness. Should I live to accomplish what I purpose, +that is, produce a systematical history of what appear to me to be the +genuine elements of human society, let not the advocates of injustice +and superstition flatter themselves that I should take Aeschylus +rather than Plato as my model. + +The having spoken of myself with unaffected freedom will need little +apology with the candid; and let the uncandid consider that they +injure me less than their own hearts and minds by misrepresentation. +Whatever talents a person may possess to amuse and instruct others, be +they ever so inconsiderable, he is yet bound to exert them: if his +attempt be ineffectual, let the punishment of an unaccomplished +purpose have been sufficient; let none trouble themselves to heap the +dust of oblivion upon his efforts; the pile they raise will betray his +grave which might otherwise have been unknown. + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +PROMETHEUS. +DEMOGORGON. +JUPITER. +THE EARTH. +OCEAN. +APOLLO. +MERCURY. +OCEANIDES: ASIA, PANTHEA, IONE. +HERCULES. +THE PHANTASM OF JUPITER. +THE SPIRIT OF THE EARTH. +THE SPIRIT OF THE MOON. +SPIRITS OF THE HOURS. +SPIRITS. ECHOES. FAUNS. FURIES. + + +ACT 1. + +SCENE: +A RAVINE OF ICY ROCKS IN THE INDIAN CAUCASUS. +PROMETHEUS IS DISCOVERED BOUND TO THE PRECIPICE. +PANTHEA AND IONE ARE SEATED AT HIS FEET. +TIME, NIGHT. +DURING, THE SCENE MORNING SLOWLY BREAKS. + +PROMETHEUS: +Monarch of Gods and DAEmons, and all Spirits +But One, who throng those bright and rolling worlds +Which Thou and I alone of living things +Behold with sleepless eyes! regard this Earth +Made multitudinous with thy slaves, whom thou _5 +Requitest for knee-worship, prayer, and praise, +And toil, and hecatombs of broken hearts, +With fear and self-contempt and barren hope. +Whilst me, who am thy foe, eyeless in hate, +Hast thou made reign and triumph, to thy scorn, _10 +O’er mine own misery and thy vain revenge. +Three thousand years of sleep-unsheltered hours, +And moments aye divided by keen pangs +Till they seemed years, torture and solitude, +Scorn and despair,—these are mine empire:— _15 +More glorious far than that which thou surveyest +From thine unenvied throne, O Mighty God! +Almighty, had I deigned to share the shame +Of thine ill tyranny, and hung not here +Nailed to this wall of eagle-baffling mountain, _20 +Black, wintry, dead, unmeasured; without herb, +Insect, or beast, or shape or sound of life. +Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever! + +No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure. +I ask the Earth, have not the mountains felt? _25 +I ask yon Heaven, the all-beholding Sun, +Has it not seen? The Sea, in storm or calm, +Heaven’s ever-changing Shadow, spread below, +Have its deaf waves not heard my agony? +Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever! _30 + +The crawling glaciers pierce me with the spears +Of their moon-freezing crystals; the bright chains +Eat with their burning cold into my bones. +Heaven’s winged hound, polluting from thy lips +His beak in poison not his own, tears up _35 +My heart; and shapeless sights come wandering by, +The ghastly people of the realm of dream, +Mocking me: and the Earthquake-fiends are charged +To wrench the rivets from my quivering wounds +When the rocks split and close again behind: _40 +While from their loud abysses howling throng +The genii of the storm, urging the rage +Of whirlwind, and afflict me with keen hail. +And yet to me welcome is day and night, +Whether one breaks the hoar-frost of the morn, _45 +Or starry, dim, and slow, the other climbs +The leaden-coloured east; for then they lead +The wingless, crawling hours, one among whom +—As some dark Priest hales the reluctant victim— +Shall drag thee, cruel King, to kiss the blood _50 +From these pale feet, which then might trample thee +If they disdained not such a prostrate slave. +Disdain! Ah, no! I pity thee. What ruin +Will hunt thee undefended through wide Heaven! +How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror, _55 +Gape like a hell within! I speak in grief, +Not exultation, for I hate no more, +As then ere misery made me wise. The curse +Once breathed on thee I would recall. Ye Mountains, +Whose many-voiced Echoes, through the mist _60 +Of cataracts, flung the thunder of that spell! +Ye icy Springs, stagnant with wrinkling frost, +Which vibrated to hear me, and then crept +Shuddering through India! Thou serenest Air, +Through which the Sun walks burning without beams! _65 +And ye swift Whirlwinds, who on poised wings +Hung mute and moveless o’er yon hushed abyss, +As thunder, louder than your own, made rock +The orbed world! If then my words had power, +Though I am changed so that aught evil wish _70 +Is dead within; although no memory be +Of what is hate, let them not lose it now! +What was that curse? for ye all heard me speak. + +NOTE: +_54 thro’ wide B; thro’ the wide 1820. + +FIRST VOICE (FROM THE MOUNTAINS): +Thrice three hundred thousand years +O’er the Earthquake’s couch we stood: _75 +Oft, as men convulsed with fears, +We trembled in our multitude. + +SECOND VOICE (FROM THE SPRINGS): +Thunderbolts had parched our water, +We had been stained with bitter blood, +And had run mute, ‘mid shrieks of slaughter, _80 +Thro’ a city and a solitude. + +THIRD VOICE (FROM THE AIR): +I had clothed, since Earth uprose, +Its wastes in colours not their own, +And oft had my serene repose +Been cloven by many a rending groan. _85 + +FOURTH VOICE (FROM THE WHIRLWINDS): +We had soared beneath these mountains +Unresting ages; nor had thunder, +Nor yon volcano’s flaming fountains, +Nor any power above or under +Ever made us mute with wonder. _90 + +FIRST VOICE: +But never bowed our snowy crest +As at the voice of thine unrest. + +SECOND VOICE: +Never such a sound before +To the Indian waves we bore. +A pilot asleep on the howling sea _95 +Leaped up from the deck in agony, +And heard, and cried, ‘Ah, woe is me!’ +And died as mad as the wild waves be. + +THIRD VOICE: +By such dread words from Earth to Heaven +My still realm was never riven: _100 +When its wound was closed, there stood +Darkness o’er the day like blood. + +FOURTH VOICE: +And we shrank back: for dreams of ruin +To frozen caves our flight pursuing +Made us keep silence—thus—and thus— _105 +Though silence is a hell to us. + +THE EARTH: +The tongueless caverns of the craggy hills +Cried, ‘Misery!’ then; the hollow Heaven replied, +‘Misery!’ And the Ocean’s purple waves, +Climbing the land, howled to the lashing winds, _110 +And the pale nations heard it, ‘Misery!’ + +NOTE: +_106 as hell 1839, B; a hell 1820. + +PROMETHEUS: +I hear a sound of voices: not the voice +Which I gave forth. Mother, thy sons and thou +Scorn him, without whose all-enduring will +Beneath the fierce omnipotence of Jove, _115 +Both they and thou had vanished, like thin mist +Unrolled on the morning wind. Know ye not me, +The Titan? He who made his agony +The barrier to your else all-conquering foe? +Oh, rock-embosomed lawns, and snow-fed streams, _120 +Now seen athwart frore vapours, deep below, +Through whose o’ershadowing woods I wandered once +With Asia, drinking life from her loved eyes; +Why scorns the spirit which informs ye, now +To commune with me? me alone, who checked, _125 +As one who checks a fiend-drawn charioteer, +The falsehood and the force of him who reigns +Supreme, and with the groans of pining slaves +Fills your dim glens and liquid wildernesses: +Why answer ye not, still? Brethren! + +THE EARTH: +They dare not. _130 + +PROMETHEUS: +Who dares? for I would hear that curse again. +Ha, what an awful whisper rises up! +’Tis scarce like sound: it tingles through the frame +As lightning tingles, hovering ere it strike. +Speak, Spirit! from thine inorganic voice _135 +I only know that thou art moving near +And love. How cursed I him? + +THE EARTH: +How canst thou hear +Who knowest not the language of the dead? + +PROMETHEUS: +Thou art a living spirit; speak as they. + +THE EARTH: +I dare not speak like life, lest Heaven’s fell King _140 +Should hear, and link me to some wheel of pain +More torturing than the one whereon I roll. +Subtle thou art and good; and though the Gods +Hear not this voice, yet thou art more than God, +Being wise and kind: earnestly hearken now. _145 + +PROMETHEUS: +Obscurely through my brain, like shadows dim, +Sweep awful thoughts, rapid and thick. I feel +Faint, like one mingled in entwining love; +Yet ’tis not pleasure. + +THE EARTH: +No, thou canst not hear: +Thou art immortal, and this tongue is known _150 +Only to those who die. + +PROMETHEUS: +And what art thou, +O, melancholy Voice? + +THE EARTH: +I am the Earth, +Thy mother; she within whose stony veins, +To the last fibre of the loftiest tree +Whose thin leaves trembled in the frozen air, _155 +Joy ran, as blood within a living frame, +When thou didst from her bosom, like a cloud +Of glory, arise, a spirit of keen joy! +And at thy voice her pining sons uplifted +Their prostrate brows from the polluting dust, _160 +And our almighty Tyrant with fierce dread +Grew pale, until his thunder chained thee here. +Then, see those million worlds which burn and roll +Around us: their inhabitants beheld +My sphered light wane in wide Heaven; the sea _165 +Was lifted by strange tempest, and new fire +From earthquake-rifted mountains of bright snow +Shook its portentous hair beneath Heaven’s frown; +Lightning and Inundation vexed the plains; +Blue thistles bloomed in cities; foodless toads _170 +Within voluptuous chambers panting crawled: +When Plague had fallen on man, and beast, and worm, +And Famine; and black blight on herb and tree; +And in the corn, and vines, and meadow-grass, +Teemed ineradicable poisonous weeds _175 +Draining their growth, for my wan breast was dry +With grief; and the thin air, my breath, was stained +With the contagion of a mother’s hate +Breathed on her child’s destroyer; ay, I heard +Thy curse, the which, if thou rememberest not, _180 +Yet my innumerable seas and streams, +Mountains, and caves, and winds, and yon wide air, +And the inarticulate people of the dead, +Preserve, a treasured spell. We meditate +In secret joy and hope those dreadful words, _185 +But dare not speak them. + +NOTE: +_137 And love 1820; And lovest cj. Swinburne. + +PROMETHEUS: +Venerable mother! +All else who live and suffer take from thee +Some comfort; flowers, and fruits, and happy sounds, +And love, though fleeting; these may not be mine. +But mine own words, I pray, deny me not. _190 + +THE EARTH: +They shall be told. Ere Babylon was dust, +The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child, +Met his own image walking in the garden. +That apparition, sole of men, he saw. +For know there are two worlds of life and death: _195 +One that which thou beholdest; but the other +Is underneath the grave, where do inhabit +The shadows of all forms that think and live +Till death unite them and they part no more; +Dreams and the light imaginings of men, _200 +And all that faith creates or love desires, +Terrible, strange, sublime and beauteous shapes. +There thou art, and dost hang, a writhing shade, +‘Mid whirlwind-peopled mountains; all the gods +Are there, and all the powers of nameless worlds, _205 +Vast, sceptred phantoms; heroes, men, and beasts; +And Demogorgon, a tremendous gloom; +And he, the supreme Tyrant, on his throne +Of burning gold. Son, one of these shall utter +The curse which all remember. Call at will _210 +Thine own ghost, or the ghost of Jupiter, +Hades or Typhon, or what mightier Gods +From all-prolific Evil, since thy ruin, +Have sprung, and trampled on my prostrate sons. +Ask, and they must reply: so the revenge _215 +Of the Supreme may sweep through vacant shades, +As rainy wind through the abandoned gate +Of a fallen palace. + +PROMETHEUS: +Mother, let not aught +Of that which may be evil, pass again +My lips, or those of aught resembling me. _220 +Phantasm of Jupiter, arise, appear! + +IONE: +My wings are folded o’er mine ears: +My wings are crossed o’er mine eyes: +Yet through their silver shade appears, +And through their lulling plumes arise, _225 +A Shape, a throng of sounds; +May it be no ill to thee +O thou of many wounds! +Near whom, for our sweet sister’s sake, +Ever thus we watch and wake. _230 + +PANTHEA: +The sound is of whirlwind underground, +Earthquake, and fire, and mountains cloven; +The shape is awful like the sound, +Clothed in dark purple, star-inwoven. +A sceptre of pale gold _235 +To stay steps proud, o’er the slow cloud +His veined hand doth hold. +Cruel he looks, but calm and strong, +Like one who does, not suffers wrong. + +PHANTASM OF JUPITER: +Why have the secret powers of this strange world _240 +Driven me, a frail and empty phantom, hither +On direst storms? What unaccustomed sounds +Are hovering on my lips, unlike the voice +With which our pallid race hold ghastly talk +In darkness? And, proud sufferer, who art thou? _245 + +PROMETHEUS: +Tremendous Image, as thou art must be +He whom thou shadowest forth. I am his foe, +The Titan. Speak the words which I would hear, +Although no thought inform thine empty voice. + +THE EARTH: +Listen! And though your echoes must be mute, _250 +Grey mountains, and old woods, and haunted springs, +Prophetic caves, and isle-surrounding streams, +Rejoice to hear what yet ye cannot speak. + +PHANTASM: +A spirit seizes me and speaks within: +It tears me as fire tears a thunder-cloud. _255 + +PANTHEA: +See, how he lifts his mighty looks, the Heaven +Darkens above. + +IONE: +He speaks! O shelter me! + +PROMETHEUS: +I see the curse on gestures proud and cold, +And looks of firm defiance, and calm hate, +And such despair as mocks itself with smiles, _260 +Written as on a scroll: yet speak! Oh, speak! + +PHANTASM: +Fiend, I defy thee! with a calm, fixed mind, +All that thou canst inflict I bid thee do; +Foul Tyrant both of Gods and Humankind, +One only being shalt thou not subdue. _265 +Rain then thy plagues upon me here, +Ghastly disease, and frenzying fear; +And let alternate frost and fire +Eat into me, and be thine ire +Lightning, and cutting hail, and legioned forms _270 +Of furies, driving by upon the wounding storms. + +Ay, do thy worst. Thou art omnipotent. +O’er all things but thyself I gave thee power, +And my own will. Be thy swift mischiefs sent +To blast mankind, from yon ethereal tower. _275 +Let thy malignant spirit move +In darkness over those I love: +On me and mine I imprecate +The utmost torture of thy hate; +And thus devote to sleepless agony, _280 +This undeclining head while thou must reign on high. + +But thou, who art the God and Lord: O, thou, +Who fillest with thy soul this world of woe, +To whom all things of Earth and Heaven do bow +In fear and worship: all-prevailing foe! _285 +I curse thee! let a sufferer’s curse +Clasp thee, his torturer, like remorse; +Till thine Infinity shall be +A robe of envenomed agony; +And thine Omnipotence a crown of pain, _290 +To cling like burning gold round thy dissolving brain. + +Heap on thy soul, by virtue of this Curse, +Ill deeds, then be thou damned, beholding good; +Both infinite as is the universe, +And thou, and thy self-torturing solitude. _295 +An awful image of calm power +Though now thou sittest, let the hour +Come, when thou must appear to be +That which thou art internally; +And after many a false and fruitless crime _300 +Scorn track thy lagging fall through boundless space and time. + +PROMETHEUS: +Were these my words, O Parent? + +THE EARTH: +They were thine. + +PROMETHEUS: +It doth repent me: words are quick and vain; +Grief for awhile is blind, and so was mine. +I wish no living thing to suffer pain. _305 + +THE EARTH: +Misery, Oh misery to me, +That Jove at length should vanquish thee. +Wail, howl aloud, Land and Sea, +The Earth’s rent heart shall answer ye. +Howl, Spirits of the living and the dead, _310 +Your refuge, your defence, lies fallen and vanquished. + +FIRST ECHO: +Lies fallen and vanquished! + +SECOND ECHO: +Fallen and vanquished! + +IONE: +Fear not: ’tis but some passing spasm, +The Titan is unvanquished still. _315 +But see, where through the azure chasm +Of yon forked and snowy hill +Trampling the slant winds on high +With golden-sandalled feet, that glow +Under plumes of purple dye, _320 +Like rose-ensanguined ivory, +A Shape comes now, +Stretching on high from his right hand +A serpent-cinctured wand. + +PANTHEA: +’Tis Jove’s world-wandering herald, Mercury. _325 + +IONE: +And who are those with hydra tresses +And iron wings that climb the wind, +Whom the frowning God represses +Like vapours steaming up behind, +Clanging loud, an endless crowd— _330 + +PANTHEA: +These are Jove’s tempest-walking hounds, +Whom he gluts with groans and blood, +When charioted on sulphurous cloud +He bursts Heaven’s bounds. + +IONE: +Are they now led, from the thin dead _335 +On new pangs to be fed? + +PANTHEA: +The Titan looks as ever, firm, not proud. + +FIRST FURY: +Ha! I scent life! + +SECOND FURY: +Let me but look into his eyes! + +THIRD FURY: +The hope of torturing him smells like a heap +Of corpses, to a death-bird after battle. _340 + +FIRST FURY: +Darest thou delay, O Herald! take cheer, Hounds +Of Hell: what if the Son of Maia soon +Should make us food and sport—who can please long +The Omnipotent? + +MERCURY: +Back to your towers of iron, +And gnash, beside the streams of fire and wail, _345 +Your foodless teeth. Geryon, arise! and Gorgon, +Chimaera, and thou Sphinx, subtlest of fiends +Who ministered to Thebes Heaven’s poisoned wine, +Unnatural love, and more unnatural hate: +These shall perform your task. + +FIRST FURY: +Oh, mercy! mercy! _350 +We die with our desire: drive us not back! + +MERCURY: +Crouch then in silence. +Awful Sufferer! +To thee unwilling, most unwillingly +I come, by the great Father’s will driven down, +To execute a doom of new revenge. _355 +Alas! I pity thee, and hate myself +That I can do no more: aye from thy sight +Returning, for a season, Heaven seems Hell, +So thy worn form pursues me night and day, +Smiling reproach. Wise art thou, firm and good, _360 +But vainly wouldst stand forth alone in strife +Against the Omnipotent; as yon clear lamps +That measure and divide the weary years +From which there is no refuge, long have taught +And long must teach. Even now thy Torturer arms _365 +With the strange might of unimagined pains +The powers who scheme slow agonies in Hell, +And my commission is to lead them here, +Or what more subtle, foul, or savage fiends +People the abyss, and leave them to their task. _370 +Be it not so! there is a secret known +To thee, and to none else of living things, +Which may transfer the sceptre of wide Heaven, +The fear of which perplexes the Supreme: +Clothe it in words, and bid it clasp his throne _375 +In intercession; bend thy soul in prayer, +And like a suppliant in some gorgeous fane, +Let the will kneel within thy haughty heart: +For benefits and meek submission tame +The fiercest and the mightiest. + +PROMETHEUS: +Evil minds _380 +Change good to their own nature. I gave all +He has; and in return he chains me here +Years, ages, night and day: whether the Sun +Split my parched skin, or in the moony night +The crystal-winged snow cling round my hair: _385 +Whilst my beloved race is trampled down +By his thought-executing ministers. +Such is the tyrant’s recompense: ’tis just: +He who is evil can receive no good; +And for a world bestowed, or a friend lost, _390 +He can feel hate, fear, shame; not gratitude: +He but requites me for his own misdeed. +Kindness to such is keen reproach, which breaks +With bitter stings the light sleep of Revenge. +Submission, thou dost know I cannot try: _395 +For what submission but that fatal word, +The death-seal of mankind’s captivity, +Like the Sicilian’s hair-suspended sword, +Which trembles o’er his crown, would he accept, +Or could I yield? Which yet I will not yield. _400 +Let others flatter Crime, where it sits throned +In brief Omnipotence: secure are they: +For Justice, when triumphant, will weep down +Pity, not punishment, on her own wrongs, +Too much avenged by those who err. I wait, _405 +Enduring thus, the retributive hour +Which since we spake is even nearer now. +But hark, the hell-hounds clamour: fear delay: +Behold! Heaven lowers under thy Father’s frown. + +MERCURY: +Oh, that we might be spared; I to inflict _410 +And thou to suffer! Once more answer me: +Thou knowest not the period of Jove’s power? + +PROMETHEUS: +I know but this, that it must come. + +MERCURY: +Alas! +Thou canst not count thy years to come of pain? + +PROMETHEUS: +They last while Jove must reign: nor more, nor less _415 +Do I desire or fear. + +MERCURY: +Yet pause, and plunge +Into Eternity, where recorded time, +Even all that we imagine, age on age, +Seems but a point, and the reluctant mind +Flags wearily in its unending flight, _420 +Till it sink, dizzy, blind, lost, shelterless; +Perchance it has not numbered the slow years +Which thou must spend in torture, unreprieved? + +PROMETHEUS: +Perchance no thought can count them, yet they pass. + +MERCURY: +If thou might’st dwell among the Gods the while +Lapped in voluptuous joy? _425 + +PROMETHEUS: +I would not quit +This bleak ravine, these unrepentant pains. + +MERCURY: +Alas! I wonder at, yet pity thee. + +PROMETHEUS: +Pity the self-despising slaves of Heaven, +Not me, within whose mind sits peace serene. _430 +As light in the sun, throned: how vain is talk! +Call up the fiends. + +IONE: +O, sister, look! White fire +Has cloven to the roots yon huge snow-loaded cedar; +How fearfully God’s thunder howls behind! + +MERCURY: +I must obey his words and thine: alas! _435 +Most heavily remorse hangs at my heart! + +PANTHEA: +See where the child of Heaven, with winged feet, +Runs down the slanted sunlight of the dawn. + +IONE: +Dear sister, close thy plumes over thine eyes +Lest thou behold and die: they come: they come _440 +Blackening the birth of day with countless wings, +And hollow underneath, like death. + +FIRST FURY: +Prometheus! + +SECOND FURY: +Immortal Titan! + +THIRD FURY: +Champion of Heaven’s slaves! + +PROMETHEUS: +He whom some dreadful voice invokes is here, +Prometheus, the chained Titan. Horrible forms, _445 +What and who are ye? Never yet there came +Phantasms so foul through monster-teeming Hell +From the all-miscreative brain of Jove; +Whilst I behold such execrable shapes, +Methinks I grow like what I contemplate, _450 +And laugh and stare in loathsome sympathy. + +FIRST FURY: +We are the ministers of pain, and fear, +And disappointment, and mistrust, and hate, +And clinging crime; and as lean dogs pursue +Through wood and lake some struck and sobbing fawn, _455 +We track all things that weep, and bleed, and live, +When the great King betrays them to our will. + +PROMETHEUS: +Oh! many fearful natures in one name, +I know ye; and these lakes and echoes know +The darkness and the clangour of your wings. _460 +But why more hideous than your loathed selves +Gather ye up in legions from the deep? + +SECOND FURY: +We knew not that: Sisters, rejoice, rejoice! + +PROMETHEUS: +Can aught exult in its deformity? + +SECOND FURY: +The beauty of delight makes lovers glad, _465 +Gazing on one another: so are we. +As from the rose which the pale priestess kneels +To gather for her festal crown of flowers +The aereal crimson falls, flushing her cheek, +So from our victim’s destined agony _470 +The shade which is our form invests us round, +Else we are shapeless as our mother Night. + +PROMETHEUS: +I laugh your power, and his who sent you here, +To lowest scorn. Pour forth the cup of pain. + +FIRST FURY: +Thou thinkest we will rend thee bone from bone, _475 +And nerve from nerve, working like fire within? + +PROMETHEUS: +Pain is my element, as hate is thine; +Ye rend me now; I care not. + +SECOND FURY: +Dost imagine +We will but laugh into thy lidless eyes? + +PROMETHEUS: +I weigh not what ye do, but what ye suffer, _480 +Being evil. Cruel was the power which called +You, or aught else so wretched, into light. + +THIRD FURY: +Thou think’st we will live through thee, one by one, +Like animal life, and though we can obscure not +The soul which burns within, that we will dwell _485 +Beside it, like a vain loud multitude +Vexing the self-content of wisest men: +That we will be dread thought beneath thy brain, +And foul desire round thine astonished heart, +And blood within thy labyrinthine veins _490 +Crawling like agony? + +PROMETHEUS: +Why, ye are thus now; +Yet am I king over myself, and rule +The torturing and conflicting throngs within, +As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous. + +CHORUS OF FURIES: +From the ends of the earth, from the ends of the earth, _495 +Where the night has its grave and the morning its birth, +Come, come, come! +Oh, ye who shake hills with the scream of your mirth, +When cities sink howling in ruin; and ye +Who with wingless footsteps trample the sea, _500 +And close upon Shipwreck and Famine’s track, +Sit chattering with joy on the foodless wreck; +Come, come, come! +Leave the bed, low, cold, and red, +Strewed beneath a nation dead; _505 +Leave the hatred, as in ashes +Fire is left for future burning: +It will burst in bloodier flashes +When ye stir it, soon returning: +Leave the self-contempt implanted _510 +In young spirits, sense-enchanted, +Misery’s yet unkindled fuel: +Leave Hell’s secrets half unchanted +To the maniac dreamer; cruel +More than ye can be with hate _515 +Is he with fear. +Come, come, come! +We are steaming up from Hell’s wide gate +And we burthen the blast of the atmosphere, +But vainly we toil till ye come here. _520 + +IONE: +Sister, I hear the thunder of new wings. + +PANTHEA: +These solid mountains quiver with the sound +Even as the tremulous air: their shadows make +The space within my plumes more black than night. + +FIRST FURY: +Your call was as a winged car, _525 +Driven on whirlwinds fast and far; +It rapped us from red gulfs of war. + +SECOND FURY: +From wide cities, famine-wasted; + +THIRD FURY: +Groans half heard, and blood untasted; + +FOURTH FURY: +Kingly conclaves stern and cold, _530 +Where blood with gold is bought and sold; + +FIFTH FURY: +From the furnace, white and hot, +In which— + +A FURY: +Speak not: whisper not: +I know all that ye would tell, +But to speak might break the spell _535 +Which must bend the Invincible, +The stern of thought; +He yet defies the deepest power of Hell. + +FURY: +Tear the veil! + +ANOTHER FURY: +It is torn. + +CHORUS: +The pale stars of the morn +Shine on a misery, dire to be borne. _540 +Dost thou faint, mighty Titan? We laugh thee to scorn. +Dost thou boast the clear knowledge thou waken’dst for man? +Then was kindled within him a thirst which outran +Those perishing waters; a thirst of fierce fever, +Hope, love, doubt, desire, which consume him for ever. _545 +One came forth of gentle worth +Smiling on the sanguine earth; +His words outlived him, like swift poison +Withering up truth, peace, and pity. +Look! where round the wide horizon _550 +Many a million-peopled city +Vomits smoke in the bright air. +Mark that outcry of despair! +’Tis his mild and gentle ghost +Wailing for the faith he kindled: _555 +Look again, the flames almost +To a glow-worm’s lamp have dwindled: +The survivors round the embers +Gather in dread. +Joy, joy, joy! _560 +Past ages crowd on thee, but each one remembers, +And the future is dark, and the present is spread +Like a pillow of thorns for thy slumberless head. + +NOTE: +_553 Hark B; Mark 1820. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Drops of bloody agony flow +From his white and quivering brow. _565 +Grant a little respite now: +See a disenchanted nation +Springs like day from desolation; +To Truth its state is dedicate, +And Freedom leads it forth, her mate; _570 +A legioned band of linked brothers +Whom Love calls children— + +SEMICHORUS 2: +’Tis another’s: +See how kindred murder kin: +’Tis the vintage-time for death and sin: +Blood, like new wine, bubbles within: _575 +Till Despair smothers +The struggling world, which slaves and tyrants win. + +[ALL THE FURIES VANISH, EXCEPT ONE.] + +IONE: +Hark, sister! what a low yet dreadful groan +Quite unsuppressed is tearing up the heart +Of the good Titan, as storms tear the deep, _580 +And beasts hear the sea moan in inland caves. +Darest thou observe how the fiends torture him? + +PANTHEA: +Alas! I looked forth twice, but will no more. + +IONE: +What didst thou see? + +PANTHEA: +A woful sight: a youth +With patient looks nailed to a crucifix. _585 + +IONE: +What next? + +PANTHEA: +The heaven around, the earth below +Was peopled with thick shapes of human death, +All horrible, and wrought by human hands, +And some appeared the work of human hearts, +For men were slowly killed by frowns and smiles: _590 +And other sights too foul to speak and live +Were wandering by. Let us not tempt worse fear +By looking forth: those groans are grief enough. + +NOTE: +_589 And 1820; Tho’ B. + +FURY: +Behold an emblem: those who do endure +Deep wrongs for man, and scorn, and chains, but heap _595 +Thousand-fold torment on themselves and him. + +PROMETHEUS: +Remit the anguish of that lighted stare; +Close those wan lips; let that thorn-wounded brow +Stream not with blood; it mingles with thy tears! +Fix, fix those tortured orbs in peace and death, _600 +So thy sick throes shake not that crucifix, +So those pale fingers play not with thy gore. +O, horrible! Thy name I will not speak, +It hath become a curse. I see, I see +The wise, the mild, the lofty, and the just, _605 +Whom thy slaves hate for being like to thee, +Some hunted by foul lies from their heart’s home, +An early-chosen, late-lamented home; +As hooded ounces cling to the driven hind; +Some linked to corpses in unwholesome cells: _610 +Some—Hear I not the multitude laugh loud?— +Impaled in lingering fire: and mighty realms +Float by my feet, like sea-uprooted isles, +Whose sons are kneaded down in common blood +By the red light of their own burning homes. _615 + +FURY: +Blood thou canst see, and fire; and canst hear groans; +Worse things unheard, unseen, remain behind. + +PROMETHEUS: +Worse? + +FURY: +In each human heart terror survives +The ravin it has gorged: the loftiest fear +All that they would disdain to think were true: _620 +Hypocrisy and custom make their minds +The fanes of many a worship, now outworn. +They dare not devise good for man’s estate, +And yet they know not that they do not dare. +The good want power, but to weep barren tears. _625 +The powerful goodness want: worse need for them. +The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom; +And all best things are thus confused to ill. +Many are strong and rich, and would be just, +But live among their suffering fellow-men _630 +As if none felt: they know not what they do. + +NOTE: +_619 ravin B, edition 1839; ruin 1820. + +PROMETHEUS: +Thy words are like a cloud of winged snakes; +And yet I pity those they torture not. + +FURY: +Thou pitiest them? I speak no more! +[VANISHES.] + +PROMETHEUS: +Ah woe! +Ah woe! Alas! pain, pain ever, for ever! _635 +I close my tearless eyes, but see more clear +Thy works within my woe-illumed mind, +Thou subtle tyrant! Peace is in the grave. +The grave hides all things beautiful and good: +I am a God and cannot find it there, _640 +Nor would I seek it: for, though dread revenge, +This is defeat, fierce king, not victory. +The sights with which thou torturest gird my soul +With new endurance, till the hour arrives +When they shall be no types of things which are. _645 + +PANTHEA: +Alas! what sawest thou more? + +NOTE: +_646 thou more? B; thou? 1820. + +PROMETHEUS: +There are two woes: +To speak, and to behold; thou spare me one. +Names are there, Nature’s sacred watchwords, they +Were borne aloft in bright emblazonry; +The nations thronged around, and cried aloud, _650 +As with one voice, Truth, liberty, and love! +Suddenly fierce confusion fell from heaven +Among them: there was strife, deceit, and fear: +Tyrants rushed in, and did divide the spoil. +This was the shadow of the truth I saw. _655 + +THE EARTH: +I felt thy torture, son; with such mixed joy +As pain and virtue give. To cheer thy state +I bid ascend those subtle and fair spirits, +Whose homes are the dim caves of human thought, +And who inhabit, as birds wing the wind, _660 +Its world-surrounding aether: they behold +Beyond that twilight realm, as in a glass, +The future: may they speak comfort to thee! + +PANTHEA: +Look, sister, where a troop of spirits gather, +Like flocks of clouds in spring’s delightful weather, _665 +Thronging in the blue air! + +IONE: +And see! more come, +Like fountain-vapours when the winds are dumb, +That climb up the ravine in scattered lines. +And, hark! is it the music of the pines? +Is it the lake? Is it the waterfall? _670 + +PANTHEA: +’Tis something sadder, sweeter far than all. + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS: +From unremembered ages we +Gentle guides and guardians be +Of heaven-oppressed mortality; +And we breathe, and sicken not, _675 +The atmosphere of human thought: +Be it dim, and dank, and gray, +Like a storm-extinguished day, +Travelled o’er by dying gleams; +Be it bright as all between _680 +Cloudless skies and windless streams, +Silent, liquid, and serene; +As the birds within the wind, +As the fish within the wave, +As the thoughts of man’s own mind _685 +Float through all above the grave; +We make there our liquid lair, +Voyaging cloudlike and unpent +Through the boundless element: +Thence we bear the prophecy _690 +Which begins and ends in thee! + +NOTE: +_687 there B, edition 1839; these 1820. + +IONE: +More yet come, one by one: the air around them +Looks radiant as the air around a star. + +FIRST SPIRIT: +On a battle-trumpet’s blast +I fled hither, fast, fast, fast, _695 +‘Mid the darkness upward cast. +From the dust of creeds outworn, +From the tyrant’s banner torn, +Gathering ‘round me, onward borne, +There was mingled many a cry— _700 +Freedom! Hope! Death! Victory! +Till they faded through the sky; +And one sound, above, around, +One sound beneath, around, above, +Was moving; ’twas the soul of Love; _705 +’Twas the hope, the prophecy, +Which begins and ends in thee. + +SECOND SPIRIT: +A rainbow’s arch stood on the sea, +Which rocked beneath, immovably; +And the triumphant storm did flee, _710 +Like a conqueror, swift and proud, +Between, with many a captive cloud, +A shapeless, dark and rapid crowd, +Each by lightning riven in half: +I heard the thunder hoarsely laugh: _715 +Mighty fleets were strewn like chaff +And spread beneath a hell of death +O’er the white waters. I alit +On a great ship lightning-split, +And speeded hither on the sigh _720 +Of one who gave an enemy +His plank, then plunged aside to die. + +THIRD SPIRIT: +I sate beside a sage’s bed, +And the lamp was burning red +Near the book where he had fed, _725 +When a Dream with plumes of flame, +To his pillow hovering came, +And I knew it was the same +Which had kindled long ago +Pity, eloquence, and woe; _730 +And the world awhile below +Wore the shade, its lustre made. +It has borne me here as fleet +As Desire’s lightning feet: +I must ride it back ere morrow, _735 +Or the sage will wake in sorrow. + +FOURTH SPIRIT: +On a poet’s lips I slept +Dreaming like a love-adept +In the sound his breathing kept; +Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, _740 +But feeds on the aereal kisses +Of shapes that haunt thought’s wildernesses. +He will watch from dawn to gloom +The lake-reflected sun illume +The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, _745 +Nor heed nor see, what things they be; +But from these create he can +Forms more real than living man, +Nurslings of immortality! +One of these awakened me, _750 +And I sped to succour thee. + +IONE: +Behold’st thou not two shapes from the east and west +Come, as two doves to one beloved nest, +Twin nurslings of the all-sustaining air +On swift still wings glide down the atmosphere? _755 +And, hark! their sweet sad voices! ’tis despair +Mingled with love and then dissolved in sound. + +PANTHEA: +Canst thou speak, sister? all my words are drowned. + +IONE: +Their beauty gives me voice. See how they float +On their sustaining wings of skiey grain, _760 +Orange and azure deepening into gold: +Their soft smiles light the air like a star’s fire. + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS: +Hast thou beheld the form of Love? + +FIFTH SPIRIT: +As over wide dominions +I sped, like some swift cloud that wings the wide air’s wildernesses, +That planet-crested shape swept by on lightning-braided pinions, _765 +Scattering the liquid joy of life from his ambrosial tresses: +His footsteps paved the world with light; but as I passed ’twas fading, +And hollow Ruin yawned behind: great sages bound in madness, +And headless patriots, and pale youths who perished, unupbraiding, +Gleamed in the night. I wandered o’er, till thou, O King of sadness, _770 +Turned by thy smile the worst I saw to recollected gladness. + +SIXTH SPIRIT: +Ah, sister! Desolation is a delicate thing: +It walks not on the earth, it floats not on the air, +But treads with lulling footstep, and fans with silent wing +The tender hopes which in their hearts the best and gentlest bear; _775 +Who, soothed to false repose by the fanning plumes above +And the music-stirring motion of its soft and busy feet, +Dream visions of aereal joy, and call the monster, Love, +And wake, and find the shadow Pain, as he whom now we greet. + +NOTE: +_774 lulling B; silent 1820. + +CHORUS: +Though Ruin now Love’s shadow be, _780 +Following him, destroyingly, +On Death’s white and winged steed, +Which the fleetest cannot flee, +Trampling down both flower and weed, +Man and beast, and foul and fair, _785 +Like a tempest through the air; +Thou shalt quell this horseman grim, +Woundless though in heart or limb. + +PROMETHEUS: +Spirits! how know ye this shall be? + +CHORUS: +In the atmosphere we breathe, _790 +As buds grow red when the snow-storms flee, +From Spring gathering up beneath, +Whose mild winds shake the elder-brake, +And the wandering herdsmen know +That the white-thorn soon will blow: _795 +Wisdom, Justice, Love, and Peace, +When they struggle to increase, +Are to us as soft winds be +To shepherd boys, the prophecy +Which begins and ends in thee. _800 + +IONE: +Where are the Spirits fled? + +PANTHEA: +Only a sense +Remains of them, like the omnipotence +Of music, when the inspired voice and lute +Languish, ere yet the responses are mute, +Which through the deep and labyrinthine soul, _805 +Like echoes through long caverns, wind and roll. + +PROMETHEUS: +How fair these airborn shapes! and yet I feel +Most vain all hope but love; and thou art far, +Asia! who, when my being overflowed, +Wert like a golden chalice to bright wine _810 +Which else had sunk into the thirsty dust. +All things are still: alas! how heavily +This quiet morning weighs upon my heart; +Though I should dream I could even sleep with grief +If slumber were denied not. I would fain _815 +Be what it is my destiny to be, +The saviour and the strength of suffering man, +Or sink into the original gulf of things: +There is no agony, and no solace left; +Earth can console, Heaven can torment no more. _820 + +PANTHEA: +Hast thou forgotten one who watches thee +The cold dark night, and never sleeps but when +The shadow of thy spirit falls on her? + +PROMETHEUS: +I said all hope was vain but love: thou lovest. + +PANTHEA: +Deeply in truth; but the eastern star looks white, _825 +And Asia waits in that far Indian vale, +The scene of her sad exile; rugged once +And desolate and frozen, like this ravine; +But now invested with fair flowers and herbs, +And haunted by sweet airs and sounds, which flow _830 +Among the woods and waters, from the aether +Of her transforming presence, which would fade +If it were mingled not with thine. Farewell! + +END OF ACT 1. + + +ACT 2. + +SCENE 2.1: +MORNING. +A LOVELY VALE IN THE INDIAN CAUCASUS. +ASIA, ALONE. + +ASIA: +From all the blasts of heaven thou hast descended: +Yes, like a spirit, like a thought, which makes +Unwonted tears throng to the horny eyes, +And beatings haunt the desolated heart, +Which should have learnt repose: thou hast descended _5 +Cradled in tempests; thou dost wake, O Spring! +O child of many winds! As suddenly +Thou comest as the memory of a dream, +Which now is sad because it hath been sweet; +Like genius, or like joy which riseth up _10 +As from the earth, clothing with golden clouds +The desert of our life. +This is the season, this the day, the hour; +At sunrise thou shouldst come, sweet sister mine, +Too long desired, too long delaying, come! _15 +How like death-worms the wingless moments crawl! +The point of one white star is quivering still +Deep in the orange light of widening morn +Beyond the purple mountains: through a chasm +Of wind-divided mist the darker lake _20 +Reflects it: now it wanes: it gleams again +As the waves fade, and as the burning threads +Of woven cloud unravel in pale air: +’Tis lost! and through yon peaks of cloud-like snow +The roseate sunlight quivers: hear I not _25 +The Aeolian music of her sea-green plumes +Winnowing the crimson dawn? + +PANTHEA [ENTERS]: +I feel, I see +Those eyes which burn through smiles that fade in tears, +Like stars half quenched in mists of silver dew. +Beloved and most beautiful, who wearest _30 +The shadow of that soul by which I live, +How late thou art! the sphered sun had climbed +The sea; my heart was sick with hope, before +The printless air felt thy belated plumes. + +PANTHEA: +Pardon, great Sister! but my wings were faint _35 +With the delight of a remembered dream, +As are the noontide plumes of summer winds +Satiate with sweet flowers. I was wont to sleep +Peacefully, and awake refreshed and calm +Before the sacred Titan’s fall, and thy _40 +Unhappy love, had made, through use and pity, +Both love and woe familiar to my heart +As they had grown to thine: erewhile I slept +Under the glaucous caverns of old Ocean +Within dim bowers of green and purple moss, _45 +Our young Ione’s soft and milky arms +Locked then, as now, behind my dark, moist hair, +While my shut eyes and cheek were pressed within +The folded depth of her life-breathing bosom: +But not as now, since I am made the wind _50 +Which fails beneath the music that I bear +Of thy most wordless converse; since dissolved +Into the sense with which love talks, my rest +Was troubled and yet sweet; my waking hours +Too full of care and pain. + +ASIA: +Lift up thine eyes, _55 +And let me read thy dream. + +PANTHEA: +As I have said +With our sea-sister at his feet I slept. +The mountain mists, condensing at our voice +Under the moon, had spread their snowy flakes, +From the keen ice shielding our linked sleep. _60 +Then two dreams came. One, I remember not. +But in the other his pale wound-worn limbs +Fell from Prometheus, and the azure night +Grew radiant with the glory of that form +Which lives unchanged within, and his voice fell _65 +Like music which makes giddy the dim brain, +Faint with intoxication of keen joy: +‘Sister of her whose footsteps pave the world +With loveliness—more fair than aught but her, +Whose shadow thou art—lift thine eyes on me.’ _70 +I lifted them: the overpowering light +Of that immortal shape was shadowed o’er +By love; which, from his soft and flowing limbs, +And passion-parted lips, and keen, faint eyes, +Steamed forth like vaporous fire; an atmosphere _75 +Which wrapped me in its all-dissolving power, +As the warm ether of the morning sun +Wraps ere it drinks some cloud of wandering dew. +I saw not, heard not, moved not, only felt +His presence flow and mingle through my blood _80 +Till it became his life, and his grew mine, +And I was thus absorbed, until it passed, +And like the vapours when the sun sinks down, +Gathering again in drops upon the pines, +And tremulous as they, in the deep night _85 +My being was condensed; and as the rays +Of thought were slowly gathered, I could hear +His voice, whose accents lingered ere they died +Like footsteps of weak melody: thy name +Among the many sounds alone I heard _90 +Of what might be articulate; though still +I listened through the night when sound was none. +Ione wakened then, and said to me: +‘Canst thou divine what troubles me to-night? +I always knew, what I desired before, _95 +Nor ever found delight to wish in vain. +But now I cannot tell thee what I seek; +I know not; something sweet, since it is sweet +Even to desire; it is thy sport, false sister; +Thou hast discovered some enchantment old, _100 +Whose spells have stolen my spirit as I slept +And mingled it with thine: for when just now +We kissed, I felt within thy parted lips +The sweet air that sustained me, and the warmth +Of the life-blood, for loss of which I faint, _105 +Quivered between our intertwining arms.’ +I answered not, for the Eastern star grew pale, +But fled to thee. + +ASIA: +Thou speakest, but thy words +Are as the air: I feel them not: Oh, lift +Thine eyes, that I may read his written soul! _110 + +PANTHEA: +I lift them though they droop beneath the load +Of that they would express: what canst thou see +But thine own fairest shadow imaged there? + +ASIA: +Thine eyes are like the deep, blue, boundless heaven +Contracted to two circles underneath _115 +Their long, fine lashes; dark, far, measureless, +Orb within orb, and line through line inwoven. + +PANTHEA: +Why lookest thou as if a spirit passed? + +ASIA: +There is a change: beyond their inmost depth +I see a shade, a shape: ’tis He, arrayed _120 +In the soft light of his own smiles, which spread +Like radiance from the cloud-surrounded moon. +Prometheus, it is thine! depart not yet! +Say not those smiles that we shall meet again +Within that bright pavilion which their beams _125 +Shall build o’er the waste world? The dream is told. +What shape is that between us? Its rude hair +Roughens the wind that lifts it, its regard +Is wild and quick, yet ’tis a thing of air, +For through its gray robe gleams the golden dew _130 +Whose stars the noon has quenched not. + +NOTE: +_122 moon B; morn 1820. +_126 o’er B; on 1820. + +DREAM +Follow! Follow! + +PANTHEA: +It is mine other dream. + +ASIA: +It disappears. + +PANTHEA: +It passes now into my mind. Methought +As we sate here, the flower-infolding buds +Burst on yon lightning-blasted almond tree, _135 +When swift from the white Scythian wilderness +A wind swept forth wrinkling the Earth with frost: +I looked, and all the blossoms were blown down; +But on each leaf was stamped, as the blue bells +Of Hyacinth tell Apollo’s written grief, _140 +O, FOLLOW, FOLLOW! + +ASIA: +As you speak, your words +Fill, pause by pause, my own forgotten sleep +With shapes. Methought among these lawns together +We wandered, underneath the young gray dawn, +And multitudes of dense white fleecy clouds _145 +Were wandering in thick flocks along the mountains +Shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind; +And the white dew on the new-bladed grass, +Just piercing the dark earth, hung silently; +And there was more which I remember not: _150 +But on the shadows of the morning clouds, +Athwart the purple mountain slope, was written +FOLLOW, O, FOLLOW! as they vanished by; +And on each herb, from which Heaven’s dew had fallen, +The like was stamped, as with a withering fire; _155 +A wind arose among the pines; it shook +The clinging music from their boughs, and then +Low, sweet, faint sounds, like the farewell of ghosts, +Were heard: O, FOLLOW, FOLLOW, FOLLOW ME! +And then I said, ‘Panthea, look on me.’ _160 +But in the depth of those beloved eyes +Still I saw, FOLLOW, FOLLOW! + +NOTE: +_143 these B; the 1820. + +ECHO: +Follow, follow! + +PANTHEA: +The crags, this clear spring morning, mock our voices +As they were spirit-tongued. + +ASIA: +It is some being +Around the crags. What fine clear sounds! O, list! _165 + +ECHOES, UNSEEN: +Echoes we: listen! +We cannot stay: +As dew-stars glisten +Then fade away— +Child of Ocean! _170 + +ASIA: +Hark! Spirits speak. The liquid responses +Of their aereal tongues yet sound. + +PANTHEA: +I hear. + +ECHOES: +Oh, follow, follow, +As our voice recedeth +Through the caverns hollow, _175 +Where the forest spreadeth; +[MORE DISTANT.] +Oh, follow, follow! +Through the caverns hollow, +As the song floats thou pursue, +Where the wild bee never flew, _180 +Through the noontide darkness deep, +By the odour-breathing sleep +Of faint night-flowers, and the waves +At the fountain-lighted caves, +While our music, wild and sweet, _185 +Mocks thy gently falling feet, +Child of Ocean! + +ASIA: +Shall we pursue the sound? It grows more faint +And distant. + +PANTHEA: +List! the strain floats nearer now. + +ECHOES: +In the world unknown _190 +Sleeps a voice unspoken; +By thy step alone +Can its rest be broken; +Child of Ocean! + +ASIA: +How the notes sink upon the ebbing wind! _195 + +ECHOES: +Oh, follow, follow! +Through the caverns hollow, +As the song floats thou pursue, +By the woodland noontide dew; +By the forests, lakes, and fountains, _200 +Through the many-folded mountains; +To the rents, and gulfs, and chasms, +Where the Earth reposed from spasms, +On the day when He and thou +Parted, to commingle now; _205 +Child of Ocean! + +ASIA: +Come, sweet Panthea, link thy hand in mine, +And follow, ere the voices fade away. + +SCENE 2.2: +A FOREST, INTERMINGLED WITH ROCKS AND CAVERNS. +ASIA AND PANTHEA PASS INTO IT. +TWO YOUNG FAUNS ARE SITTING ON A ROCK LISTENING. + +SEMICHORUS 1 OF SPIRITS: +The path through which that lovely twain +Have passed, by cedar, pine, and yew, +And each dark tree that ever grew, +Is curtained out from Heaven’s wide blue; +Nor sun, nor moon, nor wind, nor rain, _5 +Can pierce its interwoven bowers, +Nor aught, save where some cloud of dew, +Drifted along the earth-creeping breeze, +Between the trunks of the hoar trees, +Hangs each a pearl in the pale flowers _10 +Of the green laurel, blown anew, +And bends, and then fades silently, +One frail and fair anemone: +Or when some star of many a one +That climbs and wanders through steep night, _15 +Has found the cleft through which alone +Beams fall from high those depths upon +Ere it is borne away, away, +By the swift Heavens that cannot stay, +It scatters drops of golden light, _20 +Like lines of rain that ne’er unite: +And the gloom divine is all around, +And underneath is the mossy ground. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +There the voluptuous nightingales, +Are awake through all the broad noonday. _25 +When one with bliss or sadness fails, +And through the windless ivy-boughs, +Sick with sweet love, droops dying away +On its mate’s music-panting bosom; +Another from the swinging blossom, _30 +Watching to catch the languid close +Of the last strain, then lifts on high +The wings of the weak melody, +Till some new strain of feeling bear +The song, and all the woods are mute; _35 +When there is heard through the dim air +The rush of wings, and rising there +Like many a lake-surrounded flute, +Sounds overflow the listener’s brain +So sweet, that joy is almost pain. _40 + +NOTE: +_38 surrounded B, edition 1839; surrounding 1820. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +There those enchanted eddies play +Of echoes, music-tongued, which draw, +By Demogorgon’s mighty law, +With melting rapture, or sweet awe, +All spirits on that secret way; _45 +As inland boats are driven to Ocean +Down streams made strong with mountain-thaw: +And first there comes a gentle sound +To those in talk or slumber bound, +And wakes the destined soft emotion,— _50 +Attracts, impels them; those who saw +Say from the breathing earth behind +There steams a plume-uplifting wind +Which drives them on their path, while they +Believe their own swift wings and feet _55 +The sweet desires within obey: +And so they float upon their way, +Until, still sweet, but loud and strong, +The storm of sound is driven along, +Sucked up and hurrying: as they fleet _60 +Behind, its gathering billows meet +And to the fatal mountain bear +Like clouds amid the yielding air. + +NOTE: +_50 destined]destinied 1820. + +FIRST FAUN: +Canst thou imagine where those spirits live +Which make such delicate music in the woods? _65 +We haunt within the least frequented caves +And closest coverts, and we know these wilds, +Yet never meet them, though we hear them oft: +Where may they hide themselves? + +SECOND FAUN: +’Tis hard to tell; +I have heard those more skilled in spirits say, _70 +The bubbles, which the enchantment of the sun +Sucks from the pale faint water-flowers that pave +The oozy bottom of clear lakes and pools, +Are the pavilions where such dwell and float +Under the green and golden atmosphere _75 +Which noontide kindles through the woven leaves; +And when these burst, and the thin fiery air, +The which they breathed within those lucent domes, +Ascends to flow like meteors through the night, +They ride on them, and rein their headlong speed, _80 +And bow their burning crests, and glide in fire +Under the waters of the earth again. + +FIRST FAUN: +If such live thus, have others other lives, +Under pink blossoms or within the bells +Of meadow flowers, or folded violets deep, _85 +Or on their dying odours, when they die, +Or in the sunlight of the sphered dew? + +NOTE: +_86 on 1820; in B. + +SECOND FAUN: +Ay, many more which we may well divine. +But should we stay to speak, noontide would come, +And thwart Silenus find his goats undrawn, _90 +And grudge to sing those wise and lovely songs +Of Fate, and Chance, and God, and Chaos old, +And Love, and the chained Titan’s woful doom, +And how he shall be loosed, and make the earth +One brotherhood: delightful strains which cheer _95 +Our solitary twilights, and which charm +To silence the unenvying nightingales. + +NOTE: +_93 doom B, edition 1839; dooms 1820. + +SCENE 2.3: +A PINNACLE OF ROCK AMONG MOUNTAINS. +ASIA AND PANTHEA. + +PANTHEA: +Hither the sound has borne us—to the realm +Of Demogorgon, and the mighty portal, +Like a volcano’s meteor-breathing chasm, +Whence the oracular vapour is hurled up +Which lonely men drink wandering in their youth, _5 +And call truth, virtue, love, genius, or joy, +That maddening wine of life, whose dregs they drain +To deep intoxication; and uplift, +Like Maenads who cry loud, Evoe! Evoe! +The voice which is contagion to the world. _10 + +ASIA: +Fit throne for such a Power! Magnificent! +How glorious art thou, Earth! And if thou be +The shadow of some spirit lovelier still, +Though evil stain its work, and it should be +Like its creation, weak yet beautiful, _15 +I could fall down and worship that and thee. +Even now my heart adoreth: Wonderful! +Look, sister, ere the vapour dim thy brain: +Beneath is a wide plain of billowy mist, +As a lake, paving in the morning sky, _20 +With azure waves which burst in silver light, +Some Indian vale. Behold it, rolling on +Under the curdling winds, and islanding +The peak whereon we stand, midway, around, +Encinctured by the dark and blooming forests, _25 +Dim twilight-lawns, and stream-illumined caves, +And wind-enchanted shapes of wandering mist; +And far on high the keen sky-cleaving mountains +From icy spires of sun-like radiance fling +The dawn, as lifted Ocean’s dazzling spray, _30 +From some Atlantic islet scattered up, +Spangles the wind with lamp-like water-drops. +The vale is girdled with their walls, a howl +Of cataracts from their thaw-cloven ravines, +Satiates the listening wind, continuous, vast, _35 +Awful as silence. Hark! the rushing snow! +The sun-awakened avalanche! whose mass, +Thrice sifted by the storm, had gathered there +Flake after flake, in heaven-defying minds +As thought by thought is piled, till some great truth _40 +Is loosened, and the nations echo round, +Shaken to their roots, as do the mountains now. + +NOTE: +_26 illumed B; illumined 1820. + +PANTHEA: +Look how the gusty sea of mist is breaking +In crimson foam, even at our feet! it rises +As Ocean at the enchantment of the moon _45 +Round foodless men wrecked on some oozy isle. + +ASIA: +The fragments of the cloud are scattered up; +The wind that lifts them disentwines my hair; +Its billows now sweep o’er mine eyes; my brain +Grows dizzy; see’st thou shapes within the mist? _50 + +NOTE: +see’st thou B; I see thin 1820; I see 1839. + +PANTHEA: +A countenance with beckoning smiles: there burns +An azure fire within its golden locks! +Another and another: hark! they speak! + +SONG OF SPIRITS: +To the deep, to the deep, +Down, down! _55 +Through the shade of sleep, +Through the cloudy strife +Of Death and of Life; +Through the veil and the bar +Of things which seem and are _60 +Even to the steps of the remotest throne, +Down, down! + +While the sound whirls around, +Down, down! +As the fawn draws the hound, _65 +As the lightning the vapour, +As a weak moth the taper; +Death, despair; love, sorrow; +Time both; to-day, to-morrow; +As steel obeys the spirit of the stone, _70 +Down, down! + +Through the gray, void abysm, +Down, down! +Where the air is no prism, +And the moon and stars are not, _75 +And the cavern-crags wear not +The radiance of Heaven, +Nor the gloom to Earth given, +Where there is One pervading, One alone, +Down, down! _80 + +In the depth of the deep, +Down, down! +Like veiled lightning asleep, +Like the spark nursed in embers, +The last look Love remembers, _85 +Like a diamond, which shines +On the dark wealth of mines, +A spell is treasured but for thee alone. +Down, down! + +We have bound thee, we guide thee; _90 +Down, down! +With the bright form beside thee; +Resist not the weakness, +Such strength is in meekness +That the Eternal, the Immortal, _95 +Must unloose through life’s portal +The snake-like Doom coiled underneath his throne +By that alone. + +SCENE 2.4: +THE CAVE OF DEMOGORGON. +ASIA AND PANTHEA. + +PANTHEA: +What veiled form sits on that ebon throne? + +ASIA: +The veil has fallen. + +PANTHEA: +I see a mighty darkness +Filling the seat of power, and rays of gloom +Dart round, as light from the meridian sun. +—Ungazed upon and shapeless; neither limb, _5 +Nor form, nor outline; yet we feel it is +A living Spirit. + +DEMOGORGON: +Ask what thou wouldst know. + +ASIA: +What canst thou tell? + +DEMOGORGON: +All things thou dar’st demand. + +ASIA: +Who made the living world? + +DEMOGORGON: +God. + +ASIA: +Who made all +That it contains? thought, passion, reason, will, _10 +Imagination? + +DEMOGORGON: +God: Almighty God. + +ASIA: +Who made that sense which, when the winds of Spring +In rarest visitation, or the voice +Of one beloved heard in youth alone, +Fills the faint eyes with falling tears which dim _15 +The radiant looks of unbewailing flowers, +And leaves this peopled earth a solitude +When it returns no more? + +DEMOGORGON: +Merciful God. + +ASIA: +And who made terror, madness, crime, remorse, +Which from the links of the great chain of things, _20 +To every thought within the mind of man +Sway and drag heavily, and each one reels +Under the load towards the pit of death; +Abandoned hope, and love that turns to hate; +And self-contempt, bitterer to drink than blood; _25 +Pain, whose unheeded and familiar speech +Is howling, and keen shrieks, day after day; +And Hell, or the sharp fear of Hell? + +DEMOGORGON: +He reigns. + +ASIA: +Utter his name: a world pining in pain +Asks but his name: curses shall drag him down. _30 + +DEMOGORGON: +He reigns. + +ASIA: +I feel, I know it: who? + +DEMOGORGON: +He reigns. + +ASIA: +Who reigns? There was the Heaven and Earth at first, +And Light and Love; then Saturn, from whose throne +Time fell, an envious shadow: such the state +Of the earth’s primal spirits beneath his sway, _35 +As the calm joy of flowers and living leaves +Before the wind or sun has withered them +And semivital worms; but he refused +The birthright of their being, knowledge, power, +The skill which wields the elements, the thought _40 +Which pierces this dim universe like light, +Self-empire, and the majesty of love; +For thirst of which they fainted. Then Prometheus +Gave wisdom, which is strength, to Jupiter, +And with this law alone, ‘Let man be free,’ _45 +Clothed him with the dominion of wide Heaven. +To know nor faith, nor love, nor law; to be +Omnipotent but friendless is to reign; +And Jove now reigned; for on the race of man +First famine, and then toil, and then disease, _50 +Strife, wounds, and ghastly death unseen before, +Fell; and the unseasonable seasons drove +With alternating shafts of frost and fire, +Their shelterless, pale tribes to mountain caves: +And in their desert hearts fierce wants he sent, _55 +And mad disquietudes, and shadows idle +Of unreal good, which levied mutual war, +So ruining the lair wherein they raged. +Prometheus saw, and waked the legioned hopes +Which sleep within folded Elysian flowers, _60 +Nepenthe, Moly, Amaranth, fadeless blooms, +That they might hide with thin and rainbow wings +The shape of Death; and Love he sent to bind +The disunited tendrils of that vine +Which bears the wine of life, the human heart; _65 +And he tamed fire which, like some beast of prey, +Most terrible, but lovely, played beneath +The frown of man; and tortured to his will +Iron and gold, the slaves and signs of power, +And gems and poisons, and all subtlest forms _70 +Hidden beneath the mountains and the waves. +He gave man speech, and speech created thought, +Which is the measure of the universe; +And Science struck the thrones of earth and heaven, +Which shook, but fell not; and the harmonious mind _75 +Poured itself forth in all-prophetic song; +And music lifted up the listening spirit +Until it walked, exempt from mortal care, +Godlike, o’er the clear billows of sweet sound; +And human hands first mimicked and then mocked, _80 +With moulded limbs more lovely than its own, +The human form, till marble grew divine; +And mothers, gazing, drank the love men see +Reflected in their race, behold, and perish. +He told the hidden power of herbs and springs, _85 +And Disease drank and slept. Death grew like sleep. +He taught the implicated orbits woven +Of the wide-wandering stars; and how the sun +Changes his lair, and by what secret spell +The pale moon is transformed, when her broad eye _90 +Gazes not on the interlunar sea: +He taught to rule, as life directs the limbs, +The tempest-winged chariots of the Ocean, +And the Celt knew the Indian. Cities then +Were built, and through their snow-like columns flowed _95 +The warm winds, and the azure ether shone, +And the blue sea and shadowy hills were seen. +Such, the alleviations of his state, +Prometheus gave to man, for which he hangs +Withering in destined pain: but who rains down _100 +Evil, the immedicable plague, which, while +Man looks on his creation like a God +And sees that it is glorious, drives him on, +The wreck of his own will, the scorn of earth, +The outcast, the abandoned, the alone? _105 +Not Jove: while yet his frown shook Heaven ay, when +His adversary from adamantine chains +Cursed him, he trembled like a slave. Declare +Who is his master? Is he too a slave? + +NOTE: +_100 rains B, edition 1839; reigns 1820. + +DEMOGORGON: +All spirits are enslaved which serve things evil: _110 +Thou knowest if Jupiter be such or no. + +ASIA: +Whom calledst thou God? + +DEMOGORGON: +I spoke but as ye speak, +For Jove is the supreme of living things. + +ASIA: +Who is the master of the slave? + +DEMOGORGON: +If the abysm +Could vomit forth its secrets...But a voice _115 +Is wanting, the deep truth is imageless; +For what would it avail to bid thee gaze +On the revolving world? What to bid speak +Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance and Change? To these +All things are subject but eternal Love. _120 + +ASIA: +So much I asked before, and my heart gave +The response thou hast given; and of such truths +Each to itself must be the oracle. +One more demand; and do thou answer me +As my own soul would answer, did it know _125 +That which I ask. Prometheus shall arise +Henceforth the sun of this rejoicing world: +When shall the destined hour arrive? + +DEMOGORGON: +Behold! + +ASIA: +The rocks are cloven, and through the purple night +I see cars drawn by rainbow-winged steeds _130 +Which trample the dim winds: in each there stands +A wild-eyed charioteer urging their flight. +Some look behind, as fiends pursued them there, +And yet I see no shapes but the keen stars: +Others, with burning eyes, lean forth, and drink _135 +With eager lips the wind of their own speed, +As if the thing they loved fled on before, +And now, even now, they clasped it. Their bright locks +Stream like a comet’s flashing hair; they all +Sweep onward. + +DEMOGORGON: +These are the immortal Hours, _140 +Of whom thou didst demand. One waits for thee. + +ASIA: +A Spirit with a dreadful countenance +Checks its dark chariot by the craggy gulf. +Unlike thy brethren, ghastly charioteer, +Who art thou? Whither wouldst thou bear me? Speak! _145 + +SPIRIT: +I am the shadow of a destiny +More dread than is my aspect: ere yon planet +Has set, the darkness which ascends with me +Shall wrap in lasting night heaven’s kingless throne. + +ASIA: +What meanest thou? + +PANTHEA: +That terrible shadow floats _150 +Up from its throne, as may the lurid smoke +Of earthquake-ruined cities o’er the sea. +Lo! it ascends the car; the coursers fly +Terrified: watch its path among the stars +Blackening the night! + +ASIA: +Thus I am answered: strange! _155 + +PANTHEA: +See, near the verge, another chariot stays; +An ivory shell inlaid with crimson fire, +Which comes and goes within its sculptured rim +Of delicate strange tracery; the young spirit +That guides it has the dove-like eyes of hope; _160 +How its soft smiles attract the soul! as light +Lures winged insects through the lampless air. + +SPIRIT: +My coursers are fed with the lightning, +They drink of the whirlwind’s stream, +And when the red morning is bright’ning _165 +They bathe in the fresh sunbeam; +They have strength for their swiftness I deem; +Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean. +I desire: and their speed makes night kindle; +I fear: they outstrip the Typhoon; _170 +Ere the cloud piled on Atlas can dwindle +We encircle the earth and the moon: +We shall rest from long labours at noon: +Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean. + +SCENE 2.5: +THE CAR PAUSES WITHIN A CLOUD ON THE TOP OF A SNOWY MOUNTAIN. +ASIA, PANTHEA, AND THE SPIRIT OF THE HOUR. + +SPIRIT: +On the brink of the night and the morning +My coursers are wont to respire; +But the Earth has just whispered a warning +That their flight must be swifter than fire: +They shall drink the hot speed of desire! _5 + +ASIA: +Thou breathest on their nostrils, but my breath +Would give them swifter speed. + +SPIRIT: +Alas! it could not. + +PANTHEA: +Oh Spirit! pause, and tell whence is the light +Which fills this cloud? the sun is yet unrisen. + +NOTE: +_9 this B; the 1820. + +SPIRIT: +The sun will rise not until noon. Apollo _10 +Is held in heaven by wonder; and the light +Which fills this vapour, as the aereal hue +Of fountain-gazing roses fills the water, +Flows from thy mighty sister. + +PANTHEA: +Yes, I feel— + +ASIA: +What is it with thee, sister? Thou art pale. _15 + +PANTHEA: +How thou art changed! I dare not look on thee; +I feel but see thee not. I scarce endure +The radiance of thy beauty. Some good change +Is working in the elements, which suffer +Thy presence thus unveiled. The Nereids tell _20 +That on the day when the clear hyaline +Was cloven at thine uprise, and thou didst stand +Within a veined shell, which floated on +Over the calm floor of the crystal sea, +Among the Aegean isles, and by the shores _25 +Which bear thy name; love, like the atmosphere +Of the sun’s fire filling the living world, +Burst from thee, and illumined earth and heaven +And the deep ocean and the sunless caves +And all that dwells within them; till grief cast _30 +Eclipse upon the soul from which it came: +Such art thou now; nor is it I alone, +Thy sister, thy companion, thine own chosen one, +But the whole world which seeks thy sympathy. +Hearest thou not sounds i’ the air which speak the love _35 +Of all articulate beings? Feelest thou not +The inanimate winds enamoured of thee? List! + +NOTE: +_22 thine B; thy 1820. + +[MUSIC.] + +ASIA: +Thy words are sweeter than aught else but his +Whose echoes they are; yet all love is sweet, +Given or returned. Common as light is love, _40 +And its familiar voice wearies not ever. +Like the wide heaven, the all-sustaining air, +It makes the reptile equal to the God: +They who inspire it most are fortunate, +As I am now; but those who feel it most _45 +Are happier still, after long sufferings, +As I shall soon become. + +PANTHEA: +List! Spirits speak. + +VOICE IN THE AIR, SINGING: +Life of Life! thy lips enkindle +With their love the breath between them; +And thy smiles before they dwindle _50 +Make the cold air fire; then screen them +In those looks, where whoso gazes +Faints, entangled in their mazes. + +Child of Light! thy limbs are burning +Through the vest which seems to hide them; _55 +As the radiant lines of morning +Through the clouds ere they divide them; +And this atmosphere divinest +Shrouds thee wheresoe’er thou shinest. + +Fair are others; none beholds thee, _60 +But thy voice sounds low and tender +Like the fairest, for it folds thee +From the sight, that liquid splendour, +And all feel, yet see thee never, +As I feel now, lost for ever! _65 + +Lamp of Earth! where’er thou movest +Its dim shapes are clad with brightness, +And the souls of whom thou lovest +Walk upon the winds with lightness, +Till they fail, as I am failing, _70 +Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing! + +NOTE: +_54 limbs B, edition 1839; lips 1820. + +ASIA: +My soul is an enchanted boat, +Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float +Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; +And thine doth like an angel sit _75 +Beside a helm conducting it, +Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. +It seems to float ever, for ever, +Upon that many-winding river, +Between mountains, woods, abysses, _80 +A paradise of wildernesses! +Till, like one in slumber bound, +Borne to the ocean, I float down, around, +Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound: + +Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions _85 +In music’s most serene dominions; +Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven. +And we sail on, away, afar, +Without a course, without a star, +But, by the instinct of sweet music driven; _90 +Till through Elysian garden islets +By thee most beautiful of pilots, +Where never mortal pinnace glided, +The boat of my desire is guided: +Realms where the air we breathe is love, _95 +Which in the winds on the waves doth move, +Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above. + +We have passed Age’s icy caves, +And Manhood’s dark and tossing waves, +And Youth’s smooth ocean, smiling to betray: _100 +Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee +Of shadow-peopled Infancy, +Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day; +A paradise of vaulted bowers, +Lit by downward-gazing flowers, _105 +And watery paths that wind between +Wildernesses calm and green, +Peopled by shapes too bright to see, +And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee; +Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously! _110 + +NOTE: +_96 winds and on B; winds on 1820. + +END OF ACT 2. + + +ACT 3. + +SCENE 3.1: +HEAVEN. +JUPITER ON HIS THRONE; THETIS AND THE OTHER DEITIES ASSEMBLED. + +JUPITER: +Ye congregated powers of heaven, who share +The glory and the strength of him ye serve, +Rejoice! henceforth I am omnipotent. +All else had been subdued to me; alone +The soul of man, like unextinguished fire, _5 +Yet burns towards heaven with fierce reproach, and doubt, +And lamentation, and reluctant prayer, +Hurling up insurrection, which might make +Our antique empire insecure, though built +On eldest faith, and hell’s coeval, fear; _10 +And though my curses through the pendulous air, +Like snow on herbless peaks, fall flake by flake, +And cling to it; though under my wrath’s night +It climbs the crags of life, step after step, +Which wound it, as ice wounds unsandalled feet, _15 +It yet remains supreme o’er misery, +Aspiring, unrepressed, yet soon to fall: +Even now have I begotten a strange wonder, +That fatal child, the terror of the earth, +Who waits but till the destined hour arrive, _20 +Bearing from Demogorgon’s vacant throne +The dreadful might of ever-living limbs +Which clothed that awful spirit unbeheld, +To redescend, and trample out the spark. +Pour forth heaven’s wine, Idaean Ganymede, _25 +And let it fill the Daedal cups like fire, +And from the flower-inwoven soil divine +Ye all-triumphant harmonies arise, +As dew from earth under the twilight stars: +Drink! be the nectar circling through your veins _30 +The soul of joy, ye ever-living Gods, +Till exultation burst in one wide voice +Like music from Elysian winds. +And thou +Ascend beside me, veiled in the light +Of the desire which makes thee one with me, _35 +Thetis, bright image of eternity! +When thou didst cry, ‘Insufferable might! +God! Spare me! I sustain not the quick flames, +The penetrating presence; all my being, +Like him whom the Numidian seps did thaw _40 +Into a dew with poison, is dissolved, +Sinking through its foundations:’ even then +Two mighty spirits, mingling, made a third +Mightier than either, which, unbodied now, +Between us floats, felt, although unbeheld, _45 +Waiting the incarnation, which ascends, +(Hear ye the thunder of the fiery wheels +Griding the winds?) from Demogorgon’s throne. +Victory! victory! Feel’st thou not, O world, +The earthquake of his chariot thundering up _50 +Olympus? +[THE CAR OF THE HOUR ARRIVES. +DEMOGORGON DESCENDS, AND MOVES TOWARDS THE THRONE OF JUPITER.] +Awful shape, what art thou? Speak! + +NOTES: +_5 like unextinguished B, edition 1839; like an unextinguished 1820. +_13 night B, edition 1839; might 1820. +_20 destined B, edition 1839; distant 1820. + +DEMOGORGON: +Eternity. Demand no direr name. +Descend, and follow me down the abyss. +I am thy child, as thou wert Saturn’s child; +Mightier than thee: and we must dwell together _55 +Henceforth in darkness. Lift thy lightnings not. +The tyranny of heaven none may retain, +Or reassume, or hold, succeeding thee: +Yet if thou wilt, as ’tis the destiny +Of trodden worms to writhe till they are dead, _60 +Put forth thy might. + +JUPITER: +Detested prodigy! +Even thus beneath the deep Titanian prisons +I trample thee! thou lingerest? +Mercy! mercy! +No pity, no release, no respite! Oh, +That thou wouldst make mine enemy my judge, _65 +Even where he hangs, seared by my long revenge, +On Caucasus! he would not doom me thus. +Gentle, and just, and dreadless, is he not +The monarch of the world? What then art thou? +No refuge! no appeal! +Sink with me then, _70 +We two will sink on the wide waves of ruin, +Even as a vulture and a snake outspent +Drop, twisted in inextricable fight, +Into a shoreless sea. Let hell unlock +Its mounded oceans of tempestuous fire, _75 +And whelm on them into the bottomless void +This desolated world, and thee, and me, +The conqueror and the conquered, and the wreck +Of that for which they combated. +Ai, Ai! +The elements obey me not. I sink _80 +Dizzily down, ever, for ever, down. +And, like a cloud, mine enemy above +Darkens my fall with victory! Ai, Ai! + +NOTE: +_69 then B, edition 1839; omitted 1820. + +SCENE 3.2: +THE MOUTH OF A GREAT RIVER IN THE ISLAND ATLANTIS. +OCEAN IS DISCOVERED RECLINING NEAR THE SHORE; +APOLLO STANDS BESIDE HIM. + +OCEAN: +He fell, thou sayest, beneath his conqueror’s frown? + +APOLLO: +Ay, when the strife was ended which made dim +The orb I rule, and shook the solid stars, +The terrors of his eye illumined heaven +With sanguine light, through the thick ragged skirts _5 +Of the victorious darkness, as he fell: +Like the last glare of day’s red agony, +Which, from a rent among the fiery clouds, +Burns far along the tempest-wrinkled deep. + +OCEAN: +He sunk to the abyss? To the dark void? _10 + +APOLLO: +An eagle so caught in some bursting cloud +On Caucasus, his thunder-baffled wings +Entangled in the whirlwind, and his eyes +Which gazed on the undazzling sun, now blinded +By the white lightning, while the ponderous hail _15 +Beats on his struggling form, which sinks at length +Prone, and the aereal ice clings over it. + +OCEAN: +Henceforth the fields of heaven-reflecting sea +Which are my realm, will heave, unstained with blood, +Beneath the uplifting winds, like plains of corn _20 +Swayed by the summer air; my streams will flow +Round many-peopled continents, and round +Fortunate isles; and from their glassy thrones +Blue Proteus and his humid nymphs shall mark +The shadow of fair ships, as mortals see _25 +The floating bark of the light-laden moon +With that white star, its sightless pilot’s crest, +Borne down the rapid sunset’s ebbing sea; +Tracking their path no more by blood and groans, +And desolation, and the mingled voice _30 +Of slavery and command; but by the light +Of wave-reflected flowers, and floating odours, +And music soft, and mild, free, gentle voices, +And sweetest music, such as spirits love. + +NOTES: +_22 many-peopled B; many peopled 1820. +_26 light-laden B; light laden 1820. + +APOLLO: +And I shall gaze not on the deeds which make _35 +My mind obscure with sorrow, as eclipse +Darkens the sphere I guide; but list, I hear +The small, clear, silver lute of the young Spirit +That sits i’ the morning star. + +NOTE: +_39 i’ the B, edition 1839; on the 1820. + +OCEAN: +Thou must away; +Thy steeds will pause at even, till when farewell: _40 +The loud deep calls me home even now to feed it +With azure calm out of the emerald urns +Which stand for ever full beside my throne. +Behold the Nereids under the green sea, +Their wavering limbs borne on the wind-like stream, _45 +Their white arms lifted o’er their streaming hair +With garlands pied and starry sea-flower crowns, +Hastening to grace their mighty sister’s joy. +[A SOUND OF WAVES IS HEARD.] +It is the unpastured sea hungering for calm. +Peace, monster; I come now. Farewell. + +APOLLO: +Farewell. _50 + +SCENE 3.3: +CAUCASUS. +PROMETHEUS, HERCULES, IONE, THE EARTH, SPIRITS, ASIA, +AND PANTHEA, BORNE IN THE CAR WITH THE SPIRIT OF THE HOUR. +HERCULES UNBINDS PROMETHEUS, WHO DESCENDS. + +HERCULES: +Most glorious among Spirits, thus doth strength +To wisdom, courage, and long-suffering love, +And thee, who art the form they animate, +Minister like a slave. + +PROMETHEUS: +Thy gentle words +Are sweeter even than freedom long desired _5 +And long delayed. +Asia, thou light of life, +Shadow of beauty unbeheld: and ye, +Fair sister nymphs, who made long years of pain +Sweet to remember, through your love and care: +Henceforth we will not part. There is a cave, _10 +All overgrown with trailing odorous plants, +Which curtain out the day with leaves and flowers, +And paved with veined emerald, and a fountain +Leaps in the midst with an awakening sound. +From its curved roof the mountain’s frozen tears _15 +Like snow, or silver, or long diamond spires, +Hang downward, raining forth a doubtful light: +And there is heard the ever-moving air, +Whispering without from tree to tree, and birds, +And bees; and all around are mossy seats, _20 +And the rough walls are clothed with long soft grass; +A simple dwelling, which shall be our own; +Where we will sit and talk of time and change, +As the world ebbs and flows, ourselves unchanged. +What can hide man from mutability? _25 +And if ye sigh, then I will smile; and thou, +Ione, shalt chant fragments of sea-music, +Until I weep, when ye shall smile away +The tears she brought, which yet were sweet to shed. +We will entangle buds and flowers and beams _30 +Which twinkle on the fountain’s brim, and make +Strange combinations out of common things, +Like human babes in their brief innocence; +And we will search, with looks and words of love, +For hidden thoughts, each lovelier than the last, _35 +Our unexhausted spirits; and like lutes +Touched by the skill of the enamoured wind, +Weave harmonies divine, yet ever new, +From difference sweet where discord cannot be; +And hither come, sped on the charmed winds, _40 +Which meet from all the points of heaven, as bees +From every flower aereal Enna feeds, +At their known island-homes in Himera, +The echoes of the human world, which tell +Of the low voice of love, almost unheard, _45 +And dove-eyed pity’s murmured pain, and music, +Itself the echo of the heart, and all +That tempers or improves man’s life, now free; +And lovely apparitions,—dim at first, +Then radiant, as the mind, arising bright _50 +From the embrace of beauty (whence the forms +Of which these are the phantoms) casts on them +The gathered rays which are reality— +Shall visit us, the progeny immortal +Of Painting, Sculpture, and rapt Poesy, _55 +And arts, though unimagined, yet to be. +The wandering voices and the shadows these +Of all that man becomes, the mediators +Of that best worship love, by him and us +Given and returned; swift shapes and sounds, which grow _60 +More fair and soft as man grows wise and kind, +And, veil by veil, evil and error fall: +Such virtue has the cave and place around. +[TURNING TO THE SPIRIT OF THE HOUR.] +For thee, fair Spirit, one toil remains. Ione, +Give her that curved shell, which Proteus old _65 +Made Asia’s nuptial boon, breathing within it +A voice to be accomplished, and which thou +Didst hide in grass under the hollow rock. + +IONE: +Thou most desired Hour, more loved and lovely +Than all thy sisters, this is the mystic shell; _70 +See the pale azure fading into silver +Lining it with a soft yet glowing light: +Looks it not like lulled music sleeping there? + +SPIRIT: +It seems in truth the fairest shell of Ocean: +Its sound must be at once both sweet and strange. _75 + +PROMETHEUS: +Go, borne over the cities of mankind +On whirlwind-footed coursers: once again +Outspeed the sun around the orbed world; +And as thy chariot cleaves the kindling air, +Thou breathe into the many-folded shell, _80 +Loosening its mighty music; it shall be +As thunder mingled with clear echoes: then +Return; and thou shalt dwell beside our cave. +And thou, O Mother Earth!— + +THE EARTH: +I hear, I feel; +Thy lips are on me, and thy touch runs down _85 +Even to the adamantine central gloom +Along these marble nerves; ’tis life, ’tis joy, +And, through my withered, old, and icy frame +The warmth of an immortal youth shoots down +Circling. Henceforth the many children fair _90 +Folded in my sustaining arms; all plants, +And creeping forms, and insects rainbow-winged, +And birds, and beasts, and fish, and human shapes, +Which drew disease and pain from my wan bosom, +Draining the poison of despair, shall take _95 +And interchange sweet nutriment; to me +Shall they become like sister-antelopes +By one fair dam, snow-white and swift as wind, +Nursed among lilies near a brimming stream. +The dew-mists of my sunless sleep shall float _100 +Under the stars like balm: night-folded flowers +Shall suck unwithering hues in their repose: +And men and beasts in happy dreams shall gather +Strength for the coming day, and all its joy: +And death shall be the last embrace of her _105 +Who takes the life she gave, even as a mother, +Folding her child, says, ‘Leave me not again.’ + +NOTES: +_85 their B; thy 1820. +_102 unwithering B, edition 1839; unwitting 1820. + +ASIA: +Oh, mother! wherefore speak the name of death? +Cease they to love, and move, and breathe, and speak, +Who die? + +THE EARTH: +It would avail not to reply: _110 +Thou art immortal, and this tongue is known +But to the uncommunicating dead. +Death is the veil which those who live call life: +They sleep, and it is lifted: and meanwhile +In mild variety the seasons mild _115 +With rainbow-skirted showers, and odorous winds, +And long blue meteors cleansing the dull night, +And the life-kindling shafts of the keen sun’s +All-piercing bow, and the dew-mingled rain +Of the calm moonbeams, a soft influence mild, _120 +Shall clothe the forests and the fields, ay, even +The crag-built deserts of the barren deep, +With ever-living leaves, and fruits, and flowers. +And thou! There is a cavern where my spirit +Was panted forth in anguish whilst thy pain _125 +Made my heart mad, and those who did inhale it +Became mad too, and built a temple there, +And spoke, and were oracular, and lured +The erring nations round to mutual war, +And faithless faith, such as Jove kept with thee; _130 +Which breath now rises, as amongst tall weeds +A violet’s exhalation, and it fills +With a serener light and crimson air +Intense, yet soft, the rocks and woods around; +It feeds the quick growth of the serpent vine, _135 +And the dark linked ivy tangling wild, +And budding, blown, or odour-faded blooms +Which star the winds with points of coloured light, +As they rain through them, and bright golden globes +Of fruit, suspended in their own green heaven, _140 +And through their veined leaves and amber stems +The flowers whose purple and translucid bowls +Stand ever mantling with aereal dew, +The drink of spirits: and it circles round, +Like the soft waving wings of noonday dreams, _145 +Inspiring calm and happy thoughts, like mine, +Now thou art thus restored. This cave is thine. +Arise! Appear! +[A SPIRIT RISES IN THE LIKENESS OF A WINGED CHILD.] +This is my torch-bearer; +Who let his lamp out in old time with gazing +On eyes from which he kindled it anew _150 +With love, which is as fire, sweet daughter mine, +For such is that within thine own. Run, wayward, +And guide this company beyond the peak +Of Bacchic Nysa, Maenad-haunted mountain, +And beyond Indus and its tribute rivers, _155 +Trampling the torrent streams and glassy lakes +With feet unwet, unwearied, undelaying, +And up the green ravine, across the vale, +Beside the windless and crystalline pool, +Where ever lies, on unerasing waves, _160 +The image of a temple, built above, +Distinct with column, arch, and architrave, +And palm-like capital, and over-wrought, +And populous with most living imagery, +Praxitelean shapes, whose marble smiles _165 +Fill the hushed air with everlasting love. +It is deserted now, but once it bore +Thy name, Prometheus; there the emulous youths +Bore to thy honour through the divine gloom +The lamp which was thine emblem; even as those _170 +Who bear the untransmitted torch of hope +Into the grave, across the night of life, +As thou hast borne it most triumphantly +To this far goal of Time. Depart, farewell. +Beside that temple is the destined cave. _175 + +NOTE: +_164 with most B; most with 1820. + +SCENE 3.4: +A FOREST. IN THE BACKGROUND A CAVE. +PROMETHEUS, ASIA, PANTHEA, IONE, AND THE SPIRIT OF THE EARTH. + +IONE: +Sister, it is not earthly: how it glides +Under the leaves! how on its head there burns +A light, like a green star, whose emerald beams +Are twined with its fair hair! how, as it moves, +The splendour drops in flakes upon the grass! _5 +Knowest thou it? + +PANTHEA: +It is the delicate spirit +That guides the earth through heaven. From afar +The populous constellations call that light +The loveliest of the planets; and sometimes +It floats along the spray of the salt sea, _10 +Or makes its chariot of a foggy cloud, +Or walks through fields or cities while men sleep, +Or o’er the mountain tops, or down the rivers, +Or through the green waste wilderness, as now, +Wondering at all it sees. Before Jove reigned _15 +It loved our sister Asia, and it came +Each leisure hour to drink the liquid light +Out of her eyes, for which it said it thirsted +As one bit by a dipsas, and with her +It made its childish confidence, and told her _20 +All it had known or seen, for it saw much, +Yet idly reasoned what it saw; and called her— +For whence it sprung it knew not, nor do I— +Mother, dear mother. + +THE SPIRIT OF THE EARTH [RUNNING TO ASIA]: +Mother, dearest mother; +May I then talk with thee as I was wont? _25 +May I then hide my eyes in thy soft arms, +After thy looks have made them tired of joy? +May I then play beside thee the long noons, +When work is none in the bright silent air? + +ASIA: +I love thee, gentlest being, and henceforth _30 +Can cherish thee unenvied: speak, I pray: +Thy simple talk once solaced, now delights. + +SPIRIT OF THE EARTH: +Mother, I am grown wiser, though a child +Cannot be wise like thee, within this day; +And happier too; happier and wiser both. _35 +Thou knowest that toads, and snakes, and loathly worms, +And venomous and malicious beasts, and boughs +That bore ill berries in the woods, were ever +An hindrance to my walks o’er the green world: +And that, among the haunts of humankind, _40 +Hard-featured men, or with proud, angry looks, +Or cold, staid gait, or false and hollow smiles, +Or the dull sneer of self-loved ignorance, +Or other such foul masks, with which ill thoughts +Hide that fair being whom we spirits call man; _45 +And women too, ugliest of all things evil, +(Though fair, even in a world where thou art fair, +When good and kind, free and sincere like thee) +When false or frowning made me sick at heart +To pass them, though they slept, and I unseen. _50 +Well, my path lately lay through a great city +Into the woody hills surrounding it: +A sentinel was sleeping at the gate: +When there was heard a sound, so loud, it shook +The towers amid the moonlight, yet more sweet _55 +Than any voice but thine, sweetest of all; +A long, long sound, as it would never end: +And all the inhabitants leaped suddenly +Out of their rest, and gathered in the streets, +Looking in wonder up to Heaven, while yet _60 +The music pealed along. I hid myself +Within a fountain in the public square, +Where I lay like the reflex of the moon +Seen in a wave under green leaves; and soon +Those ugly human shapes and visages _65 +Of which I spoke as having wrought me pain, +Passed floating through the air, and fading still +Into the winds that scattered them; and those +From whom they passed seemed mild and lovely forms +After some foul disguise had fallen, and all _70 +Were somewhat changed, and after brief surprise +And greetings of delighted wonder, all +Went to their sleep again: and when the dawn +Came, wouldst thou think that toads, and snakes, and efts, +Could e’er be beautiful? yet so they were, _75 +And that with little change of shape or hue: +All things had put their evil nature off: +I cannot tell my joy, when o’er a lake, +Upon a drooping bough with nightshade twined, +I saw two azure halcyons clinging downward _80 +And thinning one bright bunch of amber berries, +With quick long beaks, and in the deep there lay +Those lovely forms imaged as in a sky; +So, with my thoughts full of these happy changes, +We meet again, the happiest change of all. _85 + +ASIA: +And never will we part, till thy chaste sister +Who guides the frozen and inconstant moon +Will look on thy more warm and equal light +Till her heart thaw like flakes of April snow +And love thee. + +SPIRIT OF THE EARTH: +What! as Asia loves Prometheus? _90 + +ASIA: +Peace, wanton, thou art yet not old enough. +Think ye by gazing on each other’s eyes +To multiply your lovely selves, and fill +With sphered fires the interlunar air? + +SPIRIT OF THE EARTH: +Nay, mother, while my sister trims her lamp +’Tis hard I should go darkling. _95 + +ASIA: +Listen; look! + +[THE SPIRIT OF THE HOUR ENTERS.] + +PROMETHEUS: +We feel what thou hast heard and seen: yet speak. + +SPIRIT OF THE HOUR: +Soon as the sound had ceased whose thunder filled +The abysses of the sky and the wide earth, +There was a change: the impalpable thin air _100 +And the all-circling sunlight were transformed, +As if the sense of love dissolved in them +Had folded itself round the sphered world. +My vision then grew clear, and I could see +Into the mysteries of the universe: _105 +Dizzy as with delight I floated down, +Winnowing the lightsome air with languid plumes, +My coursers sought their birthplace in the sun, +Where they henceforth will live exempt from toil, +Pasturing flowers of vegetable fire; _110 +And where my moonlike car will stand within +A temple, gazed upon by Phidian forms +Of thee, and Asia, and the Earth, and me, +And you fair nymphs looking the love we feel,— +In memory of the tidings it has borne,— _115 +Beneath a dome fretted with graven flowers, +Poised on twelve columns of resplendent stone, +And open to the bright and liquid sky. +Yoked to it by an amphisbaenic snake +The likeness of those winged steeds will mock _120 +The flight from which they find repose. Alas, +Whither has wandered now my partial tongue +When all remains untold which ye would hear? +As I have said, I floated to the earth: +It was, as it is still, the pain of bliss _125 +To move, to breathe, to be. I wandering went +Among the haunts and dwellings of mankind, +And first was disappointed not to see +Such mighty change as I had felt within +Expressed in outward things; but soon I looked, _130 +And behold, thrones were kingless, and men walked +One with the other even as spirits do, +None fawned, none trampled; hate, disdain, or fear, +Self-love or self-contempt, on human brows +No more inscribed, as o’er the gate of hell, _135 +‘All hope abandon ye who enter here;’ +None frowned, none trembled, none with eager fear +Gazed on another’s eye of cold command, +Until the subject of a tyrant’s will +Became, worse fate, the abject of his own, _140 +Which spurred him, like an outspent horse, to death. +None wrought his lips in truth-entangling lines +Which smiled the lie his tongue disdained to speak; +None, with firm sneer, trod out in his own heart +The sparks of love and hope till there remained _145 +Those bitter ashes, a soul self-consumed, +And the wretch crept a vampire among men, +Infecting all with his own hideous ill; +None talked that common, false, cold, hollow talk +Which makes the heart deny the “yes” it breathes, _150 +Yet question that unmeant hypocrisy +With such a self-mistrust as has no name. +And women, too, frank, beautiful, and kind +As the free heaven which rains fresh light and dew +On the wide earth, past; gentle radiant forms, _155 +From custom’s evil taint exempt and pure; +Speaking the wisdom once they could not think, +Looking emotions once they feared to feel, +And changed to all which once they dared not be, +Yet being now, made earth like heaven; nor pride, _160 +Nor jealousy, nor envy, nor ill shame, +The bitterest of those drops of treasured gall, +Spoiled the sweet taste of the nepenthe, love. + +Thrones, altars, judgement-seats, and prisons; wherein, +And beside which, by wretched men were borne _165 +Sceptres, tiaras, swords, and chains, and tomes +Of reasoned wrong, glozed on by ignorance, +Were like those monstrous and barbaric shapes, +The ghosts of a no-more-remembered fame, +Which, from their unworn obelisks, look forth _170 +In triumph o’er the palaces and tombs +Of those who were their conquerors: mouldering round, +These imaged to the pride of kings and priests +A dark yet mighty faith, a power as wide +As is the world it wasted, and are now _175 +But an astonishment; even so the tools +And emblems of its last captivity, +Amid the dwellings of the peopled earth, +Stand, not o’erthrown, but unregarded now. +And those foul shapes, abhorred by god and man,— _180 +Which, under many a name and many a form +Strange, savage, ghastly, dark and execrable, +Were Jupiter, the tyrant of the world; +And which the nations, panic-stricken, served +With blood, and hearts broken by long hope, and love _185 +Dragged to his altars soiled and garlandless, +And slain among men’s unreclaiming tears, +Flattering the thing they feared, which fear was hate,— +Frown, mouldering fast, o’er their abandoned shrines: +The painted veil, by those who were, called life, _190 +Which mimicked, as with colours idly spread, +All men believed and hoped, is torn aside; +The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains +Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man +Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless, _195 +Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king +Over himself; just, gentle, wise; but man +Passionless?—no, yet free from guilt or pain, +Which were, for his will made or suffered them, +Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves, _200 +From chance, and death, and mutability, +The clogs of that which else might oversoar +The loftiest star of unascended heaven, +Pinnacled dim in the intense inane. + +NOTES: +_121 flight B, edition 1839; light 1820. +_173 These B; Those 1820. +_187 amid B; among 1820. +_192 or B; and 1820. + +END OF ACT 3. + + +ACT 4. + +SCENE 4.1: +A PART OF THE FOREST NEAR THE CAVE OF PROMETHEUS. +PANTHEA AND IONE ARE SLEEPING: THEY AWAKEN GRADUALLY DURING THE FIRST SONG. + +VOICE OF UNSEEN SPIRITS: +The pale stars are gone! +For the sun, their swift shepherd, +To their folds them compelling, +In the depths of the dawn, +Hastes, in meteor-eclipsing array, and they flee _5 +Beyond his blue dwelling, +As fawns flee the leopard. +But where are ye? + +[A TRAIN OF DARK FORMS AND SHADOWS PASSES BY CONFUSEDLY, SINGING.] + +Here, oh, here: +We bear the bier _10 +Of the father of many a cancelled year! +Spectres we +Of the dead Hours be, +We bear Time to his tomb in eternity. + +Strew, oh, strew _15 +Hair, not yew! +Wet the dusty pall with tears, not dew! +Be the faded flowers +Of Death’s bare bowers +Spread on the corpse of the King of Hours! _20 + +Haste, oh, haste! +As shades are chased, +Trembling, by day, from heaven’s blue waste. +We melt away, +Like dissolving spray, _25 +From the children of a diviner day, +With the lullaby +Of winds that die +On the bosom of their own harmony! + +IONE: +What dark forms were they? _30 + +PANTHEA: +The past Hours weak and gray, +With the spoil which their toil +Raked together +From the conquest but One could foil. + +IONE: +Have they passed? + +PANTHEA: +They have passed; _35 +They outspeeded the blast, +While ’tis said, they are fled: + +IONE: +Whither, oh, whither? + +PANTHEA: +To the dark, to the past, to the dead. + +VOICE OF UNSEEN SPIRITS: +Bright clouds float in heaven, _40 +Dew-stars gleam on earth, +Waves assemble on ocean, +They are gathered and driven +By the storm of delight, by the panic of glee! +They shake with emotion, _45 +They dance in their mirth. +But where are ye? + +The pine boughs are singing +Old songs with new gladness, +The billows and fountains _50 +Fresh music are flinging, +Like the notes of a spirit from land and from sea; +The storms mock the mountains +With the thunder of gladness. +But where are ye? _55 + +IONE: +What charioteers are these? + +PANTHEA: +Where are their chariots? + +SEMICHORUS OF HOURS: +The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth +Has drawn back the figured curtain of sleep +Which covered our being and darkened our birth +In the deep. + +A VOICE: +In the deep? + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Oh, below the deep. _60 + +SEMICHORUS 1: +An hundred ages we had been kept +Cradled in visions of hate and care, +And each one who waked as his brother slept, +Found the truth— + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Worse than his visions were! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +We have heard the lute of Hope in sleep; _65 +We have known the voice of Love in dreams; +We have felt the wand of Power, and leap— + +SEMICHORUS 2: +As the billows leap in the morning beams! + +CHORUS: +Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze, +Pierce with song heaven’s silent light, _70 +Enchant the day that too swiftly flees, +To check its flight ere the cave of Night. + +Once the hungry Hours were hounds +Which chased the day like a bleeding deer, +And it limped and stumbled with many wounds _75 +Through the nightly dells of the desert year. + +But now, oh weave the mystic measure +Of music, and dance, and shapes of light, +Let the Hours, and the spirits of might and pleasure, +Like the clouds and sunbeams, unite— + +A VOICE: +Unite! _80 + +PANTHEA: +See, where the Spirits of the human mind +Wrapped in sweet sounds, as in bright veils, approach. + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS: +We join the throng +Of the dance and the song, +By the whirlwind of gladness borne along; _85 +As the flying-fish leap +From the Indian deep, +And mix with the sea-birds, half-asleep. + +CHORUS OF HOURS: +Whence come ye, so wild and so fleet, +For sandals of lightning are on your feet, _90 +And your wings are soft and swift as thought, +And your eyes are as love which is veiled not? + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS: +We come from the mind +Of human kind +Which was late so dusk, and obscene, and blind, _95 +Now ’tis an ocean +Of clear emotion, +A heaven of serene and mighty motion. + +From that deep abyss +Of wonder and bliss, _100 +Whose caverns are crystal palaces; +From those skiey towers +Where Thought’s crowned powers +Sit watching your dance, ye happy Hours! + +From the dim recesses _105 +Of woven caresses, +Where lovers catch ye by your loose tresses; +From the azure isles, +Where sweet Wisdom smiles, +Delaying your ships with her siren wiles. _110 + +From the temples high +Of Man’s ear and eye, +Roofed over Sculpture and Poesy; +From the murmurings +Of the unsealed springs _115 +Where Science bedews her Daedal wings. + +Years after years, +Through blood, and tears, +And a thick hell of hatreds, and hopes, and fears; +We waded and flew, _120 +And the islets were few +Where the bud-blighted flowers of happiness grew. + +Our feet now, every palm, +Are sandalled with calm, +And the dew of our wings is a rain of balm; _125 +And, beyond our eyes, +The human love lies +Which makes all it gazes on Paradise. + +NOTE: +_116 her B; his 1820. + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS AND HOURS: +Then weave the web of the mystic measure; +From the depths of the sky and the ends of the earth, _130 +Come, swift Spirits of might and of pleasure, +Fill the dance and the music of mirth, +As the waves of a thousand streams rush by +To an ocean of splendour and harmony! + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS: +Our spoil is won, _135 +Our task is done, +We are free to dive, or soar, or run; +Beyond and around, +Or within the bound +Which clips the world with darkness round. _140 + +We’ll pass the eyes +Of the starry skies +Into the hoar deep to colonize; +Death, Chaos, and Night, +From the sound of our flight, _145 +Shall flee, like mist from a tempest’s might. + +And Earth, Air, and Light, +And the Spirit of Might, +Which drives round the stars in their fiery flight; +And Love, Thought, and Breath, _150 +The powers that quell Death, +Wherever we soar shall assemble beneath. + +And our singing shall build +In the void’s loose field +A world for the Spirit of Wisdom to wield; _155 +We will take our plan +From the new world of man, +And our work shall be called the Promethean. + +CHORUS OF HOURS: +Break the dance, and scatter the song; +Let some depart, and some remain; _160 + +SEMICHORUS 1: +We, beyond heaven, are driven along: + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Us the enchantments of earth retain: + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Ceaseless, and rapid, and fierce, and free, +With the Spirits which build a new earth and sea, +And a heaven where yet heaven could never be; _165 + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Solemn, and slow, and serene, and bright, +Leading the Day and outspeeding the Night, +With the powers of a world of perfect light; + +SEMICHORUS 1: +We whirl, singing loud, round the gathering sphere, +Till the trees, and the beasts, and the clouds appear _170 +From its chaos made calm by love, not fear. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +We encircle the ocean and mountains of earth, +And the happy forms of its death and birth +Change to the music of our sweet mirth. + +CHORUS OF HOURS AND SPIRITS: +Break the dance, and scatter the song; _175 +Let some depart, and some remain, +Wherever we fly we lead along +In leashes, like starbeams, soft yet strong, +The clouds that are heavy with love’s sweet rain. + +PANTHEA: +Ha! they are gone! + +IONE: +Yet feel you no delight _180 +From the past sweetness? + +PANTHEA: +As the bare green hill +When some soft cloud vanishes into rain, +Laughs with a thousand drops of sunny water +To the unpavilioned sky! + +IONE: +Even whilst we speak +New notes arise. What is that awful sound? _185 + +PANTHEA: +’Tis the deep music of the rolling world +Kindling within the strings of the waved air +Aeolian modulations. + +IONE: +Listen too, +How every pause is filled with under-notes, +Clear, silver, icy, keen awakening tones, _190 +Which pierce the sense, and live within the soul, +As the sharp stars pierce winter’s crystal air +And gaze upon themselves within the sea. + +PANTHEA: +But see where through two openings in the forest +Which hanging branches overcanopy, _195 +And where two runnels of a rivulet, +Between the close moss violet-inwoven, +Have made their path of melody, like sisters +Who part with sighs that they may meet in smiles, +Turning their dear disunion to an isle _200 +Of lovely grief, a wood of sweet sad thoughts; +Two visions of strange radiance float upon +The ocean-like enchantment of strong sound, +Which flows intenser, keener, deeper yet +Under the ground and through the windless air. _205 + +IONE: +I see a chariot like that thinnest boat, +In which the Mother of the Months is borne +By ebbing light into her western cave, +When she upsprings from interlunar dreams; +O’er which is curved an orblike canopy _210 +Of gentle darkness, and the hills and woods, +Distinctly seen through that dusk aery veil, +Regard like shapes in an enchanter’s glass; +Its wheels are solid clouds, azure and gold, +Such as the genii of the thunderstorm _215 +Pile on the floor of the illumined sea +When the sun rushes under it; they roll +And move and grow as with an inward wind; +Within it sits a winged infant, white +Its countenance, like the whiteness of bright snow, _220 +Its plumes are as feathers of sunny frost, +Its limbs gleam white, through the wind-flowing folds +Of its white robe, woof of ethereal pearl. +Its hair is white, the brightness of white light +Scattered in strings; yet its two eyes are heavens _225 +Of liquid darkness, which the Deity +Within seems pouring, as a storm is poured +From jagged clouds, out of their arrowy lashes, +Tempering the cold and radiant air around, +With fire that is not brightness; in its hand _230 +It sways a quivering moonbeam, from whose point +A guiding power directs the chariot’s prow +Over its wheeled clouds, which as they roll +Over the grass, and flowers, and waves, wake sounds, +Sweet as a singing rain of silver dew. _235 + +NOTES: +_208 light B; night 1820. +_212 aery B; airy 1820. +_225 strings B, edition 1839; string 1820. + +PANTHEA: +And from the other opening in the wood +Rushes, with loud and whirlwind harmony, +A sphere, which is as many thousand spheres, +Solid as crystal, yet through all its mass +Flow, as through empty space, music and light: _240 +Ten thousand orbs involving and involved, +Purple and azure, white, and green, and golden, +Sphere within sphere; and every space between +Peopled with unimaginable shapes, +Such as ghosts dream dwell in the lampless deep, _245 +Yet each inter-transpicuous, and they whirl +Over each other with a thousand motions, +Upon a thousand sightless axles spinning, +And with the force of self-destroying swiftness, +Intensely, slowly, solemnly, roll on, _250 +Kindling with mingled sounds, and many tones, +Intelligible words and music wild. +With mighty whirl the multitudinous orb +Grinds the bright brook into an azure mist +Of elemental subtlety, like light; _255 +And the wild odour of the forest flowers, +The music of the living grass and air, +The emerald light of leaf-entangled beams +Round its intense yet self-conflicting speed, +Seem kneaded into one aereal mass _260 +Which drowns the sense. Within the orb itself, +Pillowed upon its alabaster arms, +Like to a child o’erwearied with sweet toil, +On its own folded wings, and wavy hair, +The Spirit of the Earth is laid asleep, _265 +And you can see its little lips are moving, +Amid the changing light of their own smiles, +Like one who talks of what he loves in dream. + +NOTE: +_242 white and green B; white, green 1820. + +IONE: +’Tis only mocking the orb’s harmony. + +PANTHEA: +And from a star upon its forehead, shoot, _270 +Like swords of azure fire, or golden spears +With tyrant-quelling myrtle overtwined, +Embleming heaven and earth united now, +Vast beams like spokes of some invisible wheel +Which whirl as the orb whirls, swifter than thought, _275 +Filling the abyss with sun-like lightenings, +And perpendicular now, and now transverse, +Pierce the dark soil, and as they pierce and pass, +Make bare the secrets of the earth’s deep heart; +Infinite mine of adamant and gold, _280 +Valueless stones, and unimagined gems, +And caverns on crystalline columns poised +With vegetable silver overspread; +Wells of unfathomed fire, and water springs +Whence the great sea, even as a child is fed, _285 +Whose vapours clothe earth’s monarch mountain-tops +With kingly, ermine snow. The beams flash on +And make appear the melancholy ruins +Of cancelled cycles; anchors, beaks of ships; +Planks turned to marble; quivers, helms, and spears, _290 +And gorgon-headed targes, and the wheels +Of scythed chariots, and the emblazonry +Of trophies, standards, and armorial beasts, +Round which death laughed, sepulchred emblems +Of dead destruction, ruin within ruin! _295 +The wrecks beside of many a city vast, +Whose population which the earth grew over +Was mortal, but not human; see, they lie, +Their monstrous works, and uncouth skeletons, +Their statues, homes and fanes; prodigious shapes _300 +Huddled in gray annihilation, split, +Jammed in the hard, black deep; and over these, +The anatomies of unknown winged things, +And fishes which were isles of living scale, +And serpents, bony chains, twisted around _305 +The iron crags, or within heaps of dust +To which the tortuous strength of their last pangs +Had crushed the iron crags; and over these +The jagged alligator, and the might +Of earth-convulsing behemoth, which once _310 +Were monarch beasts, and on the slimy shores, +And weed-overgrown continents of earth, +Increased and multiplied like summer worms +On an abandoned corpse, till the blue globe +Wrapped deluge round it like a cloak, and they _315 +Yelled, gasped, and were abolished; or some God +Whose throne was in a comet, passed, and cried, +‘Be not!’ And like my words they were no more. + +NOTES: +_274 spokes B, edition 1839; spoke 1820. +_276 lightenings B; lightnings 1820. +_280 mines B; mine 1820. +_282 poised B; poized edition 1839; poured 1820. + +THE EARTH: +The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness! +The boundless, overflowing, bursting gladness, _320 +The vaporous exultation not to be confined! +Ha! ha! the animation of delight +Which wraps me, like an atmosphere of light, +And bears me as a cloud is borne by its own wind. + +THE MOON: +Brother mine, calm wanderer, _325 +Happy globe of land and air, +Some Spirit is darted like a beam from thee, +Which penetrates my frozen frame, +And passes with the warmth of flame, +With love, and odour, and deep melody _330 +Through me, through me! + +THE EARTH: +Ha! ha! the caverns of my hollow mountains, +My cloven fire-crags, sound-exulting fountains +Laugh with a vast and inextinguishable laughter. +The oceans, and the deserts, and the abysses, _335 +And the deep air’s unmeasured wildernesses, +Answer from all their clouds and billows, echoing after. + +They cry aloud as I do. Sceptred curse, +Who all our green and azure universe +Threatenedst to muffle round with black destruction, sending _340 +A solid cloud to rain hot thunderstones, +And splinter and knead down my children’s bones, +All I bring forth, to one void mass battering and blending,— + +Until each crag-like tower, and storied column, +Palace, and obelisk, and temple solemn, _345 +My imperial mountains crowned with cloud, and snow, and fire, +My sea-like forests, every blade and blossom +Which finds a grave or cradle in my bosom, +Were stamped by thy strong hate into a lifeless mire: + +How art thou sunk, withdrawn, covered, drunk up _350 +By thirsty nothing, as the brackish cup +Drained by a desert-troop, a little drop for all; +And from beneath, around, within, above, +Filling thy void annihilation, love +Bursts in like light on caves cloven by the thunder-ball. _355 + +NOTES: +_335-_336 the abysses, And 1820, 1839; the abysses Of B. +_355 the omitted 1820. + +THE MOON: +The snow upon my lifeless mountains +Is loosened into living fountains, +My solid oceans flow, and sing and shine: +A spirit from my heart bursts forth, +It clothes with unexpected birth _360 +My cold bare bosom: Oh! it must be thine +On mine, on mine! + +Gazing on thee I feel, I know +Green stalks burst forth, and bright flowers grow, +And living shapes upon my bosom move: _365 +Music is in the sea and air, +Winged clouds soar here and there, +Dark with the rain new buds are dreaming of: +’Tis love, all love! + +THE EARTH: +It interpenetrates my granite mass, _370 +Through tangled roots and trodden clay doth pass +Into the utmost leaves and delicatest flowers; +Upon the winds, among the clouds ’tis spread, +It wakes a life in the forgotten dead, +They breathe a spirit up from their obscurest bowers. _375 + +And like a storm bursting its cloudy prison +With thunder, and with whirlwind, has arisen +Out of the lampless caves of unimagined being: +With earthquake shock and swiftness making shiver +Thought’s stagnant chaos, unremoved for ever, _380 +Till hate, and fear, and pain, light-vanquished shadows, fleeing, + +Leave Man, who was a many-sided mirror, +Which could distort to many a shape of error, +This true fair world of things, a sea reflecting love; +Which over all his kind, as the sun’s heaven _385 +Gliding o’er ocean, smooth, serene, and even, +Darting from starry depths radiance and life, doth move: + +Leave Man, even as a leprous child is left, +Who follows a sick beast to some warm cleft +Of rocks, through which the might of healing springs is poured; _390 +Then when it wanders home with rosy smile, +Unconscious, and its mother fears awhile +It is a spirit, then, weeps on her child restored. + +Man, oh, not men! a chain of linked thought, +Of love and might to be divided not, _395 +Compelling the elements with adamantine stress; +As the sun rules, even with a tyrant’s gaze, +The unquiet republic of the maze +Of planets, struggling fierce towards heaven’s free wilderness. + +Man, one harmonious soul of many a soul, _400 +Whose nature is its own divine control, +Where all things flow to all, as rivers to the sea; +Familiar acts are beautiful through love; +Labour, and pain, and grief, in life’s green grove +Sport like tame beasts, none knew how gentle they could be! _405 + +His will, with all mean passions, bad delights, +And selfish cares, its trembling satellites, +A spirit ill to guide, but mighty to obey, +Is as a tempest-winged ship, whose helm +Love rules, through waves which dare not overwhelm, _410 +Forcing life’s wildest shores to own its sovereign sway. + +All things confess his strength. Through the cold mass +Of marble and of colour his dreams pass; +Bright threads whence mothers weave the robes their children wear; +Language is a perpetual Orphic song, _415 +Which rules with Daedal harmony a throng +Of thoughts and forms, which else senseless and shapeless were. + +The lightning is his slave; heaven’s utmost deep +Gives up her stars, and like a flock of sheep +They pass before his eye, are numbered, and roll on! _420 +The tempest is his steed, he strides the air; +And the abyss shouts from her depth laid bare, +Heaven, hast thou secrets? Man unveils me; I have none. + +NOTE: +_387 life B; light 1820. + +THE MOON: +The shadow of white death has passed +From my path in heaven at last, _425 +A clinging shroud of solid frost and sleep; +And through my newly-woven bowers, +Wander happy paramours, +Less mighty, but as mild as those who keep +Thy vales more deep. _430 + +THE EARTH: +As the dissolving warmth of dawn may fold +A half unfrozen dew-globe, green, and gold, +And crystalline, till it becomes a winged mist, +And wanders up the vault of the blue day, +Outlives the noon, and on the sun’s last ray _435 +Hangs o’er the sea, a fleece of fire and amethyst. + +NOTE: +_432 unfrozen B, edition 1839; infrozen 1820. + +THE MOON: +Thou art folded, thou art lying +In the light which is undying +Of thine own joy, and heaven’s smile divine; +All suns and constellations shower _440 +On thee a light, a life, a power +Which doth array thy sphere; thou pourest thine +On mine, on mine! + +THE EARTH: +I spin beneath my pyramid of night, +Which points into the heavens dreaming delight, _445 +Murmuring victorious joy in my enchanted sleep; +As a youth lulled in love-dreams faintly sighing, +Under the shadow of his beauty lying, +Which round his rest a watch of light and warmth doth keep. + +THE MOON: +As in the soft and sweet eclipse, _450 +When soul meets soul on lovers’ lips, +High hearts are calm, and brightest eyes are dull; +So when thy shadow falls on me, +Then am I mute and still, by thee +Covered; of thy love, Orb most beautiful, _455 +Full, oh, too full! + +Thou art speeding round the sun +Brightest world of many a one; +Green and azure sphere which shinest +With a light which is divinest _460 +Among all the lamps of Heaven +To whom life and light is given; +I, thy crystal paramour +Borne beside thee by a power +Like the polar Paradise, _465 +Magnet-like of lovers’ eyes; +I, a most enamoured maiden +Whose weak brain is overladen +With the pleasure of her love, +Maniac-like around thee move +Gazing, an insatiate bride, _470 +On thy form from every side +Like a Maenad, round the cup +Which Agave lifted up +In the weird Cadmaean forest. _475 +Brother, wheresoe’er thou soarest +I must hurry, whirl and follow +Through the heavens wide and hollow, +Sheltered by the warm embrace +Of thy soul from hungry space, _480 +Drinking from thy sense and sight +Beauty, majesty, and might, +As a lover or a chameleon +Grows like what it looks upon, +As a violet’s gentle eye _485 +Gazes on the azure sky +Until its hue grows like what it beholds, +As a gray and watery mist +Glows like solid amethyst +Athwart the western mountain it enfolds, _490 +When the sunset sleeps +Upon its snow— + +THE EARTH: +And the weak day weeps +That it should be so. +Oh, gentle Moon, the voice of thy delight _495 +Falls on me like thy clear and tender light +Soothing the seaman, borne the summer night, +Through isles for ever calm; +Oh, gentle Moon, thy crystal accents pierce +The caverns of my pride’s deep universe, _500 +Charming the tiger joy, whose tramplings fierce +Made wounds which need thy balm. + +PANTHEA: +I rise as from a bath of sparkling water, +A bath of azure light, among dark rocks, +Out of the stream of sound. + +IONE: +Ah me! sweet sister, _505 +The stream of sound has ebbed away from us, +And you pretend to rise out of its wave, +Because your words fall like the clear, soft dew +Shaken from a bathing wood-nymph’s limbs and hair. + +PANTHEA: +Peace! peace! a mighty Power, which is as darkness, _510 +Is rising out of Earth, and from the sky +Is showered like night, and from within the air +Bursts, like eclipse which had been gathered up +Into the pores of sunlight: the bright visions, +Wherein the singing spirits rode and shone, _515 +Gleam like pale meteors through a watery night. + +IONE: +There is a sense of words upon mine ear. + +PANTHEA: +An universal sound like words: Oh, list! + +DEMOGORGON: +Thou, Earth, calm empire of a happy soul, +Sphere of divinest shapes and harmonies, _520 +Beautiful orb! gathering as thou dost roll +The love which paves thy path along the skies: + +THE EARTH: +I hear: I am as a drop of dew that dies. + +DEMOGORGON: +Thou, Moon, which gazest on the nightly Earth +With wonder, as it gazes upon thee; _525 +Whilst each to men, and beasts, and the swift birth +Of birds, is beauty, love, calm, harmony: + +THE MOON: +I hear: I am a leaf shaken by thee! + +DEMOGORGON: +Ye Kings of suns and stars, Daemons and Gods, +Ethereal Dominations, who possess _530 +Elysian, windless, fortunate abodes +Beyond Heaven’s constellated wilderness: + +A VOICE FROM ABOVE: +Our great Republic hears: we are blest, and bless. + +DEMOGORGON: +Ye happy Dead, whom beams of brightest verse +Are clouds to hide, not colours to portray, _535 +Whether your nature is that universe +Which once ye saw and suffered— + +A VOICE: FROM BENEATH: +Or as they +Whom we have left, we change and pass away. + +DEMOGORGON: +Ye elemental Genii, who have homes +From man’s high mind even to the central stone _540 +Of sullen lead; from heaven’s star-fretted domes +To the dull weed some sea-worm battens on: + +A CONFUSED VOICE: +We hear: thy words waken Oblivion. + +DEMOGORGON: +Spirits, whose homes are flesh; ye beasts and birds, +Ye worms and fish; ye living leaves and buds; _545 +Lightning and wind; and ye untameable herds, +Meteors and mists, which throng air’s solitudes:— + +NOTE: +_547 throng 1820, 1839; cancelled for feed B. + +A VOICE: +Thy voice to us is wind among still woods. + +DEMOGORGON: +Man, who wert once a despot and a slave; +A dupe and a deceiver; a decay; _550 +A traveller from the cradle to the grave +Through the dim night of this immortal day: + +ALL: +Speak: thy strong words may never pass away. + +DEMOGORGON: +This is the day, which down the void abysm +At the Earth-born’s spell yawns for Heaven’s despotism, _555 +And Conquest is dragged captive through the deep: +Love, from its awful throne of patient power +In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour +Of dread endurance, from the slippery, steep, +And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs _560 +And folds over the world its healing wings. + +Gentleness, Virtue, Wisdom, and Endurance, +These are the seals of that most firm assurance +Which bars the pit over Destruction’s strength; +And if, with infirm hand, Eternity, _565 +Mother of many acts and hours, should free +The serpent that would clasp her with his length; +These are the spells by which to reassume +An empire o’er the disentangled doom. + +To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; _570 +To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; +To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; +To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates +From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; +Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; _575 +This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be +Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; +This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory! + +NOTES: +_559 dread B, edition 1839; dead 1820. +_575 falter B, edition 1839; flatter 1820. + + +CANCELLED FRAGMENTS OF “PROMETHEUS UNBOUND”. + +[First printed by Mr. C.D. Locock, “Examination of the Shelley +Manuscripts at the Bodleian Library”, 1903, pages 33-7.] + +(following 1._37.) +When thou descendst each night with open eyes +In torture, for a tyrant seldom sleeps, +Thou never; ... +... + +(following 1._195.) +Which thou henceforth art doomed to interweave +... + +(following the first two words of 1._342.) +[Of Hell:] I placed it in his choice to be +The crown, or trampled refuse of the world +With but one law itself a glorious boon— +I gave— +... + +(following 1._707.) +SECOND SPIRIT: +I leaped on the wings of the Earth-star damp +As it rose on the steam of a slaughtered camp— +The sleeping newt heard not our tramp +As swift as the wings of fire may pass— +We threaded the points of long thick grass +Which hide the green pools of the morass +But shook a water-serpent’s couch +In a cleft skull, of many such +The widest; at the meteor’s touch +The snake did seem to see in dream +Thrones and dungeons overthrown +Visions how unlike his own... +’Twas the hope the prophecy +Which begins and ends in thee +... + +(following 2.1._110.) +Lift up thine eyes Panthea—they pierce they burn + +PANTHEA: +Alas! I am consumed—I melt away +The fire is in my heart— + +ASIA: +Thine eyes burn burn!— +Hide them within thine hair— + +PANTHEA: +O quench thy lips +I sink I perish + +ASIA: +Shelter me now—they burn +It is his spirit in their orbs...my life +Is ebbing fast—I cannot speak— + +PANTHEA: +Rest, rest! +Sleep death annihilation pain! aught else +... + +(following 2.4._27.) +Or looks which tell that while the lips are calm +And the eyes cold, the spirit weeps within +Tears like the sanguine sweat of agony; +... + +UNCANCELLED PASSAGE. +(following 2.5._71.) + +ASIA: +You said that spirits spoke, but it was thee +Sweet sister, for even now thy curved lips +Tremble as if the sound were dying there +Not dead + +PANTHEA: +Alas it was Prometheus spoke +Within me, and I know it must be so +I mixed my own weak nature with his love +...And my thoughts +Are like the many forests of a vale +Through which the might of whirlwind and of rain +Had passed—they rest rest through the evening light +As mine do now in thy beloved smile. + +CANCELLED STAGE DIRECTIONS. +(following 1._221.) +[THE SOUND BENEATH AS OF EARTHQUAKE AND THE DRIVING OF WHIRLWINDS—THE +RAVINE IS SPLIT, AND THE PHANTASM OF JUPITER RISES, SURROUNDED BY +HEAVY CLOUDS WHICH DART FORTH LIGHTNING.] + +(following 1._520.) +[ENTER RUSHING BY GROUPS OF HORRIBLE FORMS; THEY SPEAK AS THEY PASS IN +CHORUS.] + +(following 1._552.) +[A SHADOW PASSES OVER THE SCENE, AND A PIERCING SHRIEK IS HEARD.] + + +NOTE ON “PROMETHEUS UNBOUND”, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +On the 12th of March, 1818, Shelley quitted England, never to return. +His principal motive was the hope that his health would be improved by +a milder climate; he suffered very much during the winter previous to +his emigration, and this decided his vacillating purpose. In December, +1817, he had written from Marlow to a friend, saying: + +‘My health has been materially worse. My feelings at intervals are of +a deadly and torpid kind, or awakened to such a state of unnatural and +keen excitement that, only to instance the organ of sight, I find the +very blades of grass and the boughs of distant trees present +themselves to me with microscopic distinctness. Towards evening I sink +into a state of lethargy and inanimation, and often remain for hours +on the sofa between sleep and waking, a prey to the most painful +irritability of thought. Such, with little intermission, is my +condition. The hours devoted to study are selected with vigilant +caution from among these periods of endurance. It is not for this that +I think of travelling to Italy, even if I knew that Italy would +relieve me. But I have experienced a decisive pulmonary attack; and +although at present it has passed away without any considerable +vestige of its existence, yet this symptom sufficiently shows the true +nature of my disease to be consumptive. It is to my advantage that +this malady is in its nature slow, and, if one is sufficiently alive +to its advances, is susceptible of cure from a warm climate. In the +event of its assuming any decided shape, IT WOULD BE MY DUTY to go to +Italy without delay. It is not mere health, but life, that I should +seek, and that not for my own sake—I feel I am capable of trampling +on all such weakness; but for the sake of those to whom my life may be +a source of happiness, utility, security, and honour, and to some of +whom my death might be all that is the reverse.’ + +In almost every respect his journey to Italy was advantageous. He left +behind friends to whom he was attached; but cares of a thousand kinds, +many springing from his lavish generosity, crowded round him in his +native country, and, except the society of one or two friends, he had +no compensation. The climate caused him to consume half his existence +in helpless suffering. His dearest pleasure, the free enjoyment of the +scenes of Nature, was marred by the same circumstance. + +He went direct to Italy, avoiding even Paris, and did not make any +pause till he arrived at Milan. The first aspect of Italy enchanted +Shelley; it seemed a garden of delight placed beneath a clearer and +brighter heaven than any he had lived under before. He wrote long +descriptive letters during the first year of his residence in Italy, +which, as compositions, are the most beautiful in the world, and show +how truly he appreciated and studied the wonders of Nature and Art in +that divine land. + +The poetical spirit within him speedily revived with all the power and +with more than all the beauty of his first attempts. He meditated +three subjects as the groundwork for lyrical dramas. One was the story +of Tasso; of this a slight fragment of a song of Tasso remains. The +other was one founded on the Book of Job, which he never abandoned in +idea, but of which no trace remains among his papers. The third was +the “Prometheus Unbound”. The Greek tragedians were now his most +familiar companions in his wanderings, and the sublime majesty of +Aeschylus filled him with wonder and delight. The father of Greek +tragedy does not possess the pathos of Sophocles, nor the variety and +tenderness of Euripides; the interest on which he founds his dramas is +often elevated above human vicissitudes into the mighty passions and +throes of gods and demi-gods: such fascinated the abstract imagination +of Shelley. + +We spent a month at Milan, visiting the Lake of Como during that +interval. Thence we passed in succession to Pisa, Leghorn, the Baths +of Lucca, Venice, Este, Rome, Naples, and back again to Rome, whither +we returned early in March, 1819. During all this time Shelley +meditated the subject of his drama, and wrote portions of it. Other +poems were composed during this interval, and while at the Bagni di +Lucca he translated Plato’s “Symposium”. But, though he diversified +his studies, his thoughts centred in the Prometheus. At last, when at +Rome, during a bright and beautiful Spring, he gave up his whole time +to the composition. The spot selected for his study was, as he +mentions in his preface, the mountainous ruins of the Baths of +Caracalla. These are little known to the ordinary visitor at Rome. He +describes them in a letter, with that poetry and delicacy and truth of +description which render his narrated impressions of scenery of +unequalled beauty and interest. + +At first he completed the drama in three acts. It was not till several +months after, when at Florence, that he conceived that a fourth act, a +sort of hymn of rejoicing in the fulfilment of the prophecies with +regard to Prometheus, ought to be added to complete the composition. + +The prominent feature of Shelley’s theory of the destiny of the human +species was that evil is not inherent in the system of the creation, +but an accident that might be expelled. This also forms a portion of +Christianity: God made earth and man perfect, till he, by his fall, + +‘Brought death into the world and all our woe.’ + +Shelley believed that mankind had only to will that there should be no +evil, and there would be none. It is not my part in these Notes to +notice the arguments that have been urged against this opinion, but to +mention the fact that he entertained it, and was indeed attached to it +with fervent enthusiasm. That man could be so perfectionized as to be +able to expel evil from his own nature, and from the greater part of +the creation, was the cardinal point of his system. And the subject he +loved best to dwell on was the image of One warring with the Evil +Principle, oppressed not only by it, but by all—even the good, who +were deluded into considering evil a necessary portion of humanity; a +victim full of fortitude and hope and the spirit of triumph emanating +from a reliance in the ultimate omnipotence of Good. Such he had +depicted in his last poem, when he made Laon the enemy and the victim +of tyrants. He now took a more idealized image of the same subject. He +followed certain classical authorities in figuring Saturn as the good +principle, Jupiter the usurping evil one, and Prometheus as the +regenerator, who, unable to bring mankind back to primitive innocence, +used knowledge as a weapon to defeat evil, by leading mankind, beyond +the state wherein they are sinless through ignorance, to that in which +they are virtuous through wisdom. Jupiter punished the temerity of the +Titan by chaining him to a rock of Caucasus, and causing a vulture to +devour his still-renewed heart. There was a prophecy afloat in heaven +portending the fall of Jove, the secret of averting which was known +only to Prometheus; and the god offered freedom from torture on +condition of its being communicated to him. According to the +mythological story, this referred to the offspring of Thetis, who was +destined to be greater than his father. Prometheus at last bought +pardon for his crime of enriching mankind with his gifts, by revealing +the prophecy. Hercules killed the vulture, and set him free; and +Thetis was married to Peleus, the father of Achilles. + +Shelley adapted the catastrophe of this story to his peculiar views. +The son greater than his father, born of the nuptials of Jupiter and +Thetis, was to dethrone Evil, and bring back a happier reign than that +of Saturn. Prometheus defies the power of his enemy, and endures +centuries of torture; till the hour arrives when Jove, blind to the +real event, but darkly guessing that some great good to himself will +flow, espouses Thetis. At the moment, the Primal Power of the world +drives him from his usurped throne, and Strength, in the person of +Hercules, liberates Humanity, typified in Prometheus, from the +tortures generated by evil done or suffered. Asia, one of the +Oceanides, is the wife of Prometheus—she was, according to other +mythological interpretations, the same as Venus and Nature. When the +benefactor of mankind is liberated, Nature resumes the beauty of her +prime, and is united to her husband, the emblem of the human race, in +perfect and happy union. In the Fourth Act, the Poet gives further +scope to his imagination, and idealizes the forms of creation—such as +we know them, instead of such as they appeared to the Greeks. Maternal +Earth, the mighty parent, is superseded by the Spirit of the Earth, +the guide of our planet through the realms of sky; while his fair and +weaker companion and attendant, the Spirit of the Moon, receives bliss +from the annihilation of Evil in the superior sphere. + +Shelley develops, more particularly in the lyrics of this drama, his +abstruse and imaginative theories with regard to the Creation. It +requires a mind as subtle and penetrating as his own to understand the +mystic meanings scattered throughout the poem. They elude the ordinary +reader by their abstraction and delicacy of distinction, but they are +far from vague. It was his design to write prose metaphysical essays +on the nature of Man, which would have served to explain much of what +is obscure in his poetry; a few scattered fragments of observations +and remarks alone remain. He considered these philosophical views of +Mind and Nature to be instinct with the intensest spirit of poetry. + +More popular poets clothe the ideal with familiar and sensible +imagery. Shelley loved to idealize the real—to gift the mechanism of +the material universe with a soul and a voice, and to bestow such also +on the most delicate and abstract emotions and thoughts of the mind. +Sophocles was his great master in this species of imagery. + +I find in one of his manuscript books some remarks on a line in the +“Oedipus Tyrannus”, which show at once the critical subtlety of +Shelley’s mind, and explain his apprehension of those ‘minute and +remote distinctions of feeling, whether relative to external nature or +the living beings which surround us,’ which he pronounces, in the +letter quoted in the note to the “Revolt of Islam”, to comprehend all +that is sublime in man. + +‘In the Greek Shakespeare, Sophocles, we find the image, + +Pollas d’ odous elthonta phrontidos planois: + +a line of almost unfathomable depth of poetry; yet how simple are the +images in which it is arrayed! + +“Coming to many ways in the wanderings of careful thought.” + +If the words odous and planois had not been used, the line might have +been explained in a metaphorical instead of an absolute sense, as we +say “WAYS and means,” and “wanderings” for error and confusion. But +they meant literally paths or roads, such as we tread with our feet; +and wanderings, such as a man makes when he loses himself in a desert, +or roams from city to city—as Oedipus, the speaker of this verse, was +destined to wander, blind and asking charity. What a picture does this +line suggest of the mind as a wilderness of intricate paths, wide as +the universe, which is here made its symbol; a world within a world +which he who seeks some knowledge with respect to what he ought to do +searches throughout, as he would search the external universe for some +valued thing which was hidden from him upon its surface.’ + +In reading Shelley’s poetry, we often find similar verses, resembling, +but not imitating the Greek in this species of imagery; for, though he +adopted the style, he gifted it with that originality of form and +colouring which sprung from his own genius. + +In the “Prometheus Unbound”, Shelley fulfils the promise quoted from a +letter in the Note on the “Revolt of Islam”. (While correcting the +proof-sheets of that poem, it struck me that the poet had indulged in +an exaggerated view of the evils of restored despotism; which, however +injurious and degrading, were less openly sanguinary than the triumph +of anarchy, such as it appeared in France at the close of the last +century. But at this time a book, “Scenes of Spanish Life”, translated +by Lieutenant Crawford from the German of Dr. Huber, of Rostock, fell +into my hands. The account of the triumph of the priests and the +serviles, after the French invasion of Spain in 1823, bears a strong +and frightful resemblance to some of the descriptions of the massacre +of the patriots in the “Revolt of Islam”.) The tone of the composition +is calmer and more majestic, the poetry more perfect as a whole, and +the imagination displayed at once more pleasingly beautiful and more +varied and daring. The description of the Hours, as they are seen in +the cave of Demogorgon, is an instance of this—it fills the mind as +the most charming picture—we long to see an artist at work to bring +to our view the + +‘cars drawn by rainbow-winged steeds +Which trample the dim winds: in each there stands +A wild-eyed charioteer urging their flight. +Some look behind, as fiends pursued them there, +And yet I see no shapes but the keen stars: +Others, with burning eyes, lean forth, and drink +With eager lips the wind of their own speed, +As if the thing they loved fled on before, +And now, even now, they clasped it. Their bright locks +Stream like a comet’s flashing hair: they all +Sweep onward.’ + +Through the whole poem there reigns a sort of calm and holy spirit of +love; it soothes the tortured, and is hope to the expectant, till the +prophecy is fulfilled, and Love, untainted by any evil, becomes the +law of the world. + +England had been rendered a painful residence to Shelley, as much by +the sort of persecution with which in those days all men of liberal +opinions were visited, and by the injustice he had lately endured in +the Court of Chancery, as by the symptoms of disease which made him +regard a visit to Italy as necessary to prolong his life. An exile, +and strongly impressed with the feeling that the majority of his +countrymen regarded him with sentiments of aversion such as his own +heart could experience towards none, he sheltered himself from such +disgusting and painful thoughts in the calm retreats of poetry, and +built up a world of his own—with the more pleasure, since he hoped to +induce some one or two to believe that the earth might become such, +did mankind themselves consent. The charm of the Roman climate helped +to clothe his thoughts in greater beauty than they had ever worn +before. And, as he wandered among the ruins made one with Nature in +their decay, or gazed on the Praxitelean shapes that throng the +Vatican, the Capitol, and the palaces of Rome, his soul imbibed forms +of loveliness which became a portion of itself. There are many +passages in the “Prometheus” which show the intense delight he +received from such studies, and give back the impression with a beauty +of poetical description peculiarly his own. He felt this, as a poet +must feel when he satisfies himself by the result of his labours; and +he wrote from Rome, ‘My “Prometheus Unbound” is just finished, and in +a month or two I shall send it. It is a drama, with characters and +mechanism of a kind yet unattempted; and I think the execution is +better than any of my former attempts.’ + +I may mention, for the information of the more critical reader, that +the verbal alterations in this edition of “Prometheus” are made from a +list of errata written by Shelley himself. + +*** + + +THE CENCI. + +A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. + +[Composed at Rome and near Leghorn (Villa Valsovano), May-August 5, +1819; published 1820 (spring) by C. & J. Ollier, London. This edition +of two hundred and fifty copies was printed in Italy ‘because,’ writes +Shelley to Peacock, September 21, 1819, ‘it costs, with all duties and +freightage, about half what it would cost in London.’ A Table of +Errata in Mrs. Shelley’s handwriting is printed by Forman in “The +Shelley Library”, page 91. A second edition, published by Ollier in +1821 (C.H. Reynell, printer), embodies the corrections indicated in +this Table. No manuscript of “The Cenci” is known to exist. Our text +follows that of the second edition (1821); variations of the first +(Italian) edition, the title-page of which bears date 1819, are given +in the footnotes. The text of the “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st and 2nd +editions (Mrs. Shelley), follows for the most part that of the editio +princeps of 1819.] + + +DEDICATION, TO LEIGH HUNT, ESQ. + +Mv dear friend— + +I inscribe with your name, from a distant country, and after an +absence whose months have seemed years, this the latest of my literary +efforts. + +Those writings which I have hitherto published, have been little else +than visions which impersonate my own apprehensions of the beautiful +and the just. I can also perceive in them the literary defects +incidental to youth and impatience; they are dreams of what ought to +be, or may be. The drama which I now present to you is a sad reality. +I lay aside the presumptuous attitude of an instructor, and am content +to paint, with such colours as my own heart furnishes, that which has +been. + +Had I known a person more highly endowed than yourself with all that +it becomes a man to possess, I had solicited for this work the +ornament of his name. One more gentle, honourable, innocent and brave; +one of more exalted toleration for all who do and think evil, and yet +himself more free from evil; one who knows better how to receive, and +how to confer a benefit, though he must ever confer far more than he +can receive; one of simpler, and, in the highest sense of the word, of +purer life and manners I never knew: and I had already been fortunate +in friendships when your name was added to the list. + +In that patient and irreconcilable enmity with domestic and political +tyranny and imposture which the tenor of your life has illustrated, +and which, had I health and talents, should illustrate mine, let us, +comforting each other in our task, live and die. + +All happiness attend you! Your affectionate friend, + +PERCY B. SHELLEY. + +Rome, May 29, 1819. + + +THE CENCI. + +PREFACE. + +A manuscript was communicated to me during my travels in Italy, which +was copied from the archives of the Cenci Palace at Rome, and contains +a detailed account of the horrors which ended in the extinction of one +of the noblest and richest families of that city during the +Pontificate of Clement VIII, in the year 1599. The story is, that an +old man having spent his life in debauchery and wickedness, conceived +at length an implacable hatred towards his children; which showed +itself towards one daughter under the form of an incestuous passion, +aggravated by every circumstance of cruelty and violence. This +daughter, after long and vain attempts to escape from what she +considered a perpetual contamination both of body and mind, at length +plotted with her mother-in-law and brother to murder their common +tyrant. The young maiden, who was urged to this tremendous deed by an +impulse which overpowered its horror, was evidently a most gentle and +amiable being, a creature formed to adorn and be admired, and thus +violently thwarted from her nature by the necessity of circumstance +and opinion. The deed was quickly discovered, and, in spite of the +most earnest prayers made to the Pope by the highest persons in Rome, +the criminals were put to death. The old man had during his life +repeatedly bought his pardon from the Pope for capital crimes of the +most enormous and unspeakable kind, at the price of a hundred thousand +crowns; the death therefore of his victims can scarcely be accounted +for by the love of justice. The Pope, among other motives for +severity, probably felt that whoever killed the Count Cenci deprived +his treasury of a certain and copious source of revenue. (The Papal +Government formerly took the most extraordinary precautions against +the publicity of facts which offer so tragical a demonstration of its +own wickedness and weakness; so that the communication of the +manuscript had become, until very lately, a matter of some +difficulty.) Such a story, if told so as to present to the reader all +the feelings of those who once acted it, their hopes and fears, their +confidences and misgivings, their various interests, passions, and +opinions, acting upon and with each other, yet all conspiring to one +tremendous end, would be as a light to make apparent some of the most +dark and secret caverns of the human heart. + +On my arrival at Rome I found that the story of the Cenci was a +subject not to be mentioned in Italian society without awakening a +deep and breathless interest; and that the feelings of the company +never failed to incline to a romantic pity for the wrongs, and a +passionate exculpation of the horrible deed to which they urged her, +who has been mingled two centuries with the common dust. All ranks of +people knew the outlines of this history, and participated in the +overwhelming interest which it seems to have the magic of exciting in +the human heart. I had a copy of Guido’s picture of Beatrice which is +preserved in the Colonna Palace, and my servant instantly recognized +it as the portrait of La Cenci. + +This national and universal interest which the story produces and has +produced for two centuries and among all ranks of people in a great +City, where the imagination is kept for ever active and awake, first +suggested to me the conception of its fitness for a dramatic purpose. +In fact it is a tragedy which has already received, from its capacity +of awakening and sustaining the sympathy of men, approbation and +success. Nothing remained as I imagined, but to clothe it to the +apprehensions of my countrymen in such language and action as would +bring it home to their hearts. The deepest and the sublimest tragic +compositions, King Lear and the two plays in which the tale of Oedipus +is told, were stories which already existed in tradition, as matters +of popular belief and interest, before Shakspeare and Sophocles made +them familiar to the sympathy of all succeeding generations of +mankind. + +This story of the Cenci is indeed eminently fearful and monstrous: +anything like a dry exhibition of it on the stage would be +insupportable. The person who would treat such a subject must increase +the ideal, and diminish the actual horror of the events, so that the +pleasure which arises from the poetry which exists in these +tempestuous sufferings and crimes may mitigate the pain of the +contemplation of the moral deformity from which they spring. There +must also be nothing attempted to make the exhibition subservient to +what is vulgarly termed a moral purpose. The highest moral purpose +aimed at in the highest species of the drama, is the teaching the +human heart, through its sympathies and antipathies, the knowledge of +itself; in proportion to the possession of which knowledge, every +human being is wise, just, sincere, tolerant and kind. If dogmas can +do more, it is well: but a drama is no fit place for the enforcement +of them. Undoubtedly, no person can be truly dishonoured by the act of +another; and the fit return to make to the most enormous injuries is +kindness and forbearance, and a resolution to convert the injurer from +his dark passions by peace and love. Revenge, retaliation, atonement, +are pernicious mistakes. If Beatrice had thought in this manner she +would have been wiser and better; but she would never have been a +tragic character: the few whom such an exhibition would have +interested, could never have been sufficiently interested for a +dramatic purpose, from the want of finding sympathy in their interest +among the mass who surround them. It is in the restless and +anatomizing casuistry with which men seek the justification of +Beatrice, yet feel that she has done what needs justification; it is +in the superstitious horror with which they contemplate alike her +wrongs and their revenge, that the dramatic character of what she did +and suffered, consists. + +I have endeavoured as nearly as possible to represent the characters +as they probably were, and have sought to avoid the error of making +them actuated by my own conceptions of right or wrong, false or true: +thus under a thin veil converting names and actions of the sixteenth +century into cold impersonations of my own mind. They are represented +as Catholics, and as Catholics deeply tinged with religion. To a +Protestant apprehension there will appear something unnatural in the +earnest and perpetual sentiment of the relations between God and men +which pervade the tragedy of the Cenci. It will especially be startled +at the combination of an undoubting persuasion of the truth of the +popular religion with a cool and determined perseverance in enormous +guilt. But religion in Italy is not, as in Protestant countries, a +cloak to be worn on particular days; or a passport which those who do +not wish to be railed at carry with them to exhibit; or a gloomy +passion for penetrating the impenetrable mysteries of our being, which +terrifies its possessor at the darkness of the abyss to the brink of +which it has conducted him. Religion coexists, as it were, in the mind +of an Italian Catholic, with a faith in that of which all men have the +most certain knowledge. It is interwoven with the whole fabric of +life. It is adoration, faith, submission, penitence, blind admiration; +not a rule for moral conduct. It has no necessary connection with any +one virtue. The most atrocious villain may be rigidly devout, and +without any shock to established faith, confess himself to be so. +Religion pervades intensely the whole frame of society, and is +according to the temper of the mind which it inhabits, a passion, a +persuasion, an excuse, a refuge; never a check. Cenci himself built a +chapel in the court of his Palace, and dedicated it to St. Thomas the +Apostle, and established masses for the peace of his soul. Thus in the +first scene of the fourth act Lucretia’s design in exposing herself to +the consequences of an expostulation with Cenci after having +administered the opiate, was to induce him by a feigned tale to +confess himself before death; this being esteemed by Catholics as +essential to salvation; and she only relinquishes her purpose when she +perceives that her perseverance would expose Beatrice to new outrages. + +I have avoided with great care in writing this play the introduction +of what is commonly called mere poetry, and I imagine there will +scarcely be found a detached simile or a single isolated description, +unless Beatrice’s description of the chasm appointed for her father’s +murder should be judged to be of that nature. (An idea in this speech +was suggested by a most sublime passage in “El Purgaterio de San +Patricio” of Calderon; the only plagiarism which I have intentionally +committed in the whole piece.) + +In a dramatic composition the imagery and the passion should +interpenetrate one another, the former being reserved simply for the +full development and illustration of the latter. Imagination is as the +immortal God which should assume flesh for the redemption of mortal +passion. It is thus that the most remote and the most familiar imagery +may alike be fit for dramatic purposes when employed in the +illustration of strong feeling, which raises what is low, and levels +to the apprehension that which is lofty, casting over all the shadow +of its own greatness. In other respects, I have written more +carelessly; that is, without an over-fastidious and learned choice of +words. In this respect I entirely agree with those modern critics who +assert that in order to move men to true sympathy we must use the +familiar language of men, and that our great ancestors the ancient +English poets are the writers, a study of whom might incite us to do +that for our own age which they have done for theirs. But it must be +the real language of men in general and not that of any particular +class to whose society the writer happens to belong. So much for what +I have attempted; I need not be assured that success is a very +different matter; particularly for one whose attention has but newly +been awakened to the study of dramatic literature. + +I endeavoured whilst at Rome to observe such monuments of this story +as might be accessible to a stranger. The portrait of Beatrice at the +Colonna Palace is admirable as a work of art: it was taken by Guido +during her confinement in prison. But it is most interesting as a just +representation of one of the loveliest specimens of the workmanship of +Nature. There is a fixed and pale composure upon the features: she +seems sad and stricken down in spirit, yet the despair thus expressed +is lightened by the patience of gentleness. Her head is bound with +folds of white drapery from which the yellow strings of her golden +hair escape, and fall about her neck. The moulding of her face is +exquisitely delicate; the eyebrows are distinct and arched: the lips +have that permanent meaning of imagination and sensibility which +suffering has not repressed and which it seems as if death scarcely +could extinguish. Her forehead is large and clear; her eyes, which we +are told were remarkable for their vivacity, are swollen with weeping +and lustreless, but beautifully tender and serene. In the whole mien +there is a simplicity and dignity which, united with her exquisite +loveliness and deep sorrow, are inexpressibly pathetic. Beatrice Cenci +appears to have been one of those rare persons in whom energy and +gentleness dwell together without destroying one another: her nature +was simple and profound. The crimes and miseries in which she was an +actor and a sufferer are as the mask and the mantle in which +circumstances clothed her for her impersonation on the scene of the +world. + +The Cenci Palace is of great extent; and though in part modernized, +there yet remains a vast and gloomy pile of feudal architecture in the +same state as during the dreadful scenes which are the subject of this +tragedy. The Palace is situated in an obscure corner of Rome, near the +quarter of the Jews, and from the upper windows you see the immense +ruins of Mount Palatine half hidden under their profuse overgrowth of +trees. There is a court in one part of the Palace (perhaps that in +which Cenci built the Chapel to St. Thomas), supported by granite +columns and adorned with antique friezes of fine workmanship, and +built up, according to the ancient Italian fashion, with balcony over +balcony of open-work. One of the gates of the Palace formed of immense +stones and leading through a passage, dark and lofty and opening into +gloomy subterranean chambers, struck me particularly. + +Of the Castle of Petrella, I could obtain no further information than +that which is to be found in the manuscript. + + +THE CENCI: A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE: + +COUNT FRANCESCO CENCI. +GIACOMO, BERNARDO, HIS SONS. +CARDINAL CAMILLO. +PRINCE COLONNA. +ORSINO, A PRELATE. +SAVELLA, THE POPE’S LEGATE. +OLIMPIO, MARZIO, ASSASSINS. +ANDREA, SERVANT TO CENCI. +NOBLES. JUDGES. GUARDS, SERVANTS. +LUCRETIA, WIFE OF CENCI AND STEP-MOTHER OF HIS CHILDREN. +BEATRICE, HIS DAUGHTER. + +THE SCENE LIES PRINCIPALLY IN ROME, BUT CHANGES DURING THE FOURTH +ACT TO PETRELLA, A CASTLE AMONG THE APULIAN APENNINES. + +TIME. DURING THE PONTIFICATE OF CLEMENT VIII. + + +ACT 1. + +SCENE 1.1: +AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE. +ENTER COUNT CENCI AND CARDINAL CAMILLO. + +CAMILLO: +That matter of the murder is hushed up +If you consent to yield his Holiness +Your fief that lies beyond the Pincian gate.— +It needed all my interest in the conclave +To bend him to this point; he said that you _5 +Bought perilous impunity with your gold; +That crimes like yours if once or twice compounded +Enriched the Church, and respited from hell +An erring soul which might repent and live: — +But that the glory and the interest _10 +Of the high throne he fills, little consist +With making it a daily mart of guilt +As manifold and hideous as the deeds +Which you scarce hide from men’s revolted eyes. + +CENCI: +The third of my possessions—let it go! _15 +Ay, I once heard the nephew of the Pope +Had sent his architect to view the ground, +Meaning to build a villa on my vines +The next time I compounded with his uncle: +I little thought he should outwit me so! _20 +Henceforth no witness—not the lamp—shall see +That which the vassal threatened to divulge +Whose throat is choked with dust for his reward. +The deed he saw could not have rated higher +Than his most worthless life:—it angers me! _25 +Respited me from Hell! So may the Devil +Respite their souls from Heaven! No doubt Pope Clement, +And his most charitable nephews, pray +That the Apostle Peter and the Saints +Will grant for their sake that I long enjoy _30 +Strength, wealth, and pride, and lust, and length of days +Wherein to act the deeds which are the stewards +Of their revenue.—But much yet remains +To which they show no title. + +CAMILLO: +Oh, Count Cenci! +So much that thou mightst honourably live _35 +And reconcile thyself with thine own heart +And with thy God, and with the offended world. +How hideously look deeds of lust and blood +Through those snow white and venerable hairs!— +Your children should be sitting round you now, _40 +But that you fear to read upon their looks +The shame and misery you have written there. +Where is your wife? Where is your gentle daughter? +Methinks her sweet looks, which make all things else +Beauteous and glad, might kill the fiend within you. _45 +Why is she barred from all society +But her own strange and uncomplaining wrongs? +Talk with me, Count,—you know I mean you well. +I stood beside your dark and fiery youth +Watching its bold and bad career, as men _50 +Watch meteors, but it vanished not—I marked +Your desperate and remorseless manhood; now +Do I behold you in dishonoured age +Charged with a thousand unrepented crimes. +Yet I have ever hoped you would amend, _55 +And in that hope have saved your life three times. + +CENCI: +For which Aldobrandino owes you now +My fief beyond the Pincian.—Cardinal, +One thing, I pray you, recollect henceforth, +And so we shall converse with less restraint. _60 +A man you knew spoke of my wife and daughter— +He was accustomed to frequent my house; +So the next day HIS wife and daughter came +And asked if I had seen him; and I smiled: +I think they never saw him any more. _65 + +CAMILLO: +Thou execrable man, beware!— + +CENCI: +Of thee? +Nay, this is idle: —We should know each other. +As to my character for what men call crime +Seeing I please my senses as I list, +And vindicate that right with force or guile, _70 +It is a public matter, and I care not +If I discuss it with you. I may speak +Alike to you and my own conscious heart— +For you give out that you have half reformed me, +Therefore strong vanity will keep you silent _75 +If fear should not; both will, I do not doubt. +All men delight in sensual luxury, +All men enjoy revenge; and most exult +Over the tortures they can never feel— +Flattering their secret peace with others’ pain. _80 +But I delight in nothing else. I love +The sight of agony, and the sense of joy, +When this shall be another’s, and that mine. +And I have no remorse and little fear, +Which are, I think, the checks of other men. _85 +This mood has grown upon me, until now +Any design my captious fancy makes +The picture of its wish, and it forms none +But such as men like you would start to know, +Is as my natural food and rest debarred _90 +Until it be accomplished. + +CAMILLO: +Art thou not +Most miserable? + +CENCI: +Why miserable?— +No.—I am what your theologians call +Hardened;—which they must be in impudence, +So to revile a man’s peculiar taste. _95 +True, I was happier than I am, while yet +Manhood remained to act the thing I thought; +While lust was sweeter than revenge; and now +Invention palls:—Ay, we must all grow old— +And but that there remains a deed to act _100 +Whose horror might make sharp an appetite +Duller than mine—I’d do,—I know not what. +When I was young I thought of nothing else +But pleasure; and I fed on honey sweets: +Men, by St. Thomas! cannot live like bees, _105 +And I grew tired:—yet, till I killed a foe, +And heard his groans, and heard his children’s groans, +Knew I not what delight was else on earth, +Which now delights me little. I the rather +Look on such pangs as terror ill conceals, _110 +The dry fixed eyeball; the pale, quivering lip, +Which tell me that the spirit weeps within +Tears bitterer than the bloody sweat of Christ. +I rarely kill the body, which preserves, +Like a strong prison, the soul within my power, _115 +Wherein I feed it with the breath of fear +For hourly pain. + +NOTE: +_100 And but that edition 1821; But that editions 1819, 1839. + +CAMILLO: +Hell’s most abandoned fiend +Did never, in the drunkenness of guilt, +Speak to his heart as now you speak to me; +I thank my God that I believe you not. _120 + +[ENTER ANDREA.] + +ANDREA: +My Lord, a gentleman from Salamanca +Would speak with you. + +CENCI: +Bid him attend me +In the grand saloon. + +[EXIT ANDREA.] + +CAMILLO: +Farewell; and I will pray +Almighty God that thy false, impious words +Tempt not his spirit to abandon thee. _125 + +[EXIT CAMILLO.] + +CENCI: +The third of my possessions! I must use +Close husbandry, or gold, the old man’s sword, +Falls from my withered hand. But yesterday +There came an order from the Pope to make +Fourfold provision for my cursed sons; _130 +Whom I had sent from Rome to Salamanca, +Hoping some accident might cut them off; +And meaning if I could to starve them there. +I pray thee, God, send some quick death upon them! +Bernardo and my wife could not be worse _135 +If dead and damned:—then, as to Beatrice— +[LOOKING AROUND HIM SUSPICIOUSLY.] +I think they cannot hear me at that door; +What if they should? And yet I need not speak +Though the heart triumphs with itself in words. +O, thou most silent air, that shalt not hear _140 +What now I think! Thou, pavement, which I tread +Towards her chamber,—let your echoes talk +Of my imperious step scorning surprise, +But not of my intent!—Andrea! + +NOTES: +_131 Whom I had edition 1821; Whom I have editions 1819, 1839. +_140 that shalt edition 1821; that shall editions 1819, 1839. + +[ENTER ANDREA.] + +ANDREA: +My lord? + +CENCI: +Bid Beatrice attend me in her chamber _145 +This evening:—no, at midnight and alone. + +[EXEUNT.] + +SCENE 1.2: +A GARDEN OF THE CENCI PALACE. +ENTER BEATRICE AND ORSINO, AS IN CONVERSATION. + +BEATRICE: +Pervert not truth, +Orsino. You remember where we held +That conversation;—nay, we see the spot +Even from this cypress;—two long years are past +Since, on an April midnight, underneath _5 +The moonlight ruins of Mount Palatine, +I did confess to you my secret mind. + +ORSINO: +You said you loved me then. + +BEATRICE: +You are a Priest. +Speak to me not of love. + +ORSINO: +I may obtain +The dispensation of the Pope to marry. _10 +Because I am a Priest do you believe +Your image, as the hunter some struck deer, +Follows me not whether I wake or sleep? + +BEATRICE: +As I have said, speak to me not of love; +Had you a dispensation I have not; _15 +Nor will I leave this home of misery +Whilst my poor Bernard, and that gentle lady +To whom I owe life, and these virtuous thoughts, +Must suffer what I still have strength to share. +Alas, Orsino! All the love that once _20 +I felt for you, is turned to bitter pain. +Ours was a youthful contract, which you first +Broke, by assuming vows no Pope will loose. +And thus I love you still, but holily, +Even as a sister or a spirit might; _25 +And so I swear a cold fidelity. +And it is well perhaps we shall not marry. +You have a sly, equivocating vein +That suits me not.—Ah, wretched that I am! +Where shall I turn? Even now you look on me _30 +As you were not my friend, and as if you +Discovered that I thought so, with false smiles +Making my true suspicion seem your wrong. +Ah, no! forgive me; sorrow makes me seem +Sterner than else my nature might have been; _35 +I have a weight of melancholy thoughts, +And they forebode,—but what can they forebode +Worse than I now endure? + +NOTE: +_24 And thus editions 1821, 1839; And yet edition 1819. + +ORSINO: +All will be well. +Is the petition yet prepared? You know +My zeal for all you wish, sweet Beatrice; _40 +Doubt not but I will use my utmost skill +So that the Pope attend to your complaint. + +BEATRICE: +Your zeal for all I wish;—Ah me, you are cold! +Your utmost skill...speak but one word... +[ASIDE.] +Alas! +Weak and deserted creature that I am, _45 +Here I stand bickering with my only friend! +[TO ORSINO.] +This night my father gives a sumptuous feast, +Orsino; he has heard some happy news +From Salamanca, from my brothers there, +And with this outward show of love he mocks _50 +His inward hate. ’Tis bold hypocrisy, +For he would gladlier celebrate their deaths, +Which I have heard him pray for on his knees: +Great God! that such a father should be mine! +But there is mighty preparation made, _55 +And all our kin, the Cenci, will be there, +And all the chief nobility of Rome. +And he has bidden me and my pale Mother +Attire ourselves in festival array. +Poor lady! She expects some happy change _60 +In his dark spirit from this act; I none. +At supper I will give you the petition: +Till when—farewell. + +ORSINO: +Farewell. +[EXIT BEATRICE.] +I know the Pope +Will ne’er absolve me from my priestly vow +But by absolving me from the revenue _65 +Of many a wealthy see; and, Beatrice, +I think to win thee at an easier rate. +Nor shall he read her eloquent petition: +He might bestow her on some poor relation +Of his sixth cousin, as he did her sister, _70 +And I should be debarred from all access. +Then as to what she suffers from her father, +In all this there is much exaggeration:— +Old men are testy and will have their way; +A man may stab his enemy, or his vassal, _75 +And live a free life as to wine or women, +And with a peevish temper may return +To a dull home, and rate his wife and children; +Daughters and wives call this foul tyranny. +I shall be well content if on my conscience _80 +There rest no heavier sin than what they suffer +From the devices of my love—a net +From which he shall escape not. Yet I fear +Her subtle mind, her awe-inspiring gaze, +Whose beams anatomize me nerve by nerve _85 +And lay me bare, and make me blush to see +My hidden thoughts.—Ah, no! A friendless girl +Who clings to me, as to her only hope:— +I were a fool, not less than if a panther +Were panic-stricken by the antelope’s eye, _90 +If she escape me. + +NOTE: +_75 vassal edition 1821; slave edition 1819. + +[EXIT.] + +SCENE 1.3: +A MAGNIFICENT HALL IN THE CENCI PALACE. +A BANQUET. +ENTER CENCI, LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, ORSINO, CAMILLO, NOBLES. + +CENCI: +Welcome, my friends and kinsmen; welcome ye, +Princes and Cardinals, pillars of the church, +Whose presence honours our festivity. +I have too long lived like an anchorite, +And in my absence from your merry meetings _5 +An evil word is gone abroad of me; +But I do hope that you, my noble friends, +When you have shared the entertainment here, +And heard the pious cause for which ’tis given, +And we have pledged a health or two together, _10 +Will think me flesh and blood as well as you; +Sinful indeed, for Adam made all so, +But tender-hearted, meek and pitiful. + +FIRST GUEST: +In truth, my Lord, you seem too light of heart, +Too sprightly and companionable a man, _15 +To act the deeds that rumour pins on you. +[TO HIS COMPANION.] +I never saw such blithe and open cheer +In any eye! + +SECOND GUEST: +Some most desired event, +In which we all demand a common joy, +Has brought us hither; let us hear it, Count. _20 + +CENCI: +It is indeed a most desired event. +If when a parent from a parent’s heart +Lifts from this earth to the great Father of all +A prayer, both when he lays him down to sleep, +And when he rises up from dreaming it; _25 +One supplication, one desire, one hope, +That he would grant a wish for his two sons, +Even all that he demands in their regard— +And suddenly beyond his dearest hope +It is accomplished, he should then rejoice, _30 +And call his friends and kinsmen to a feast, +And task their love to grace his merriment,— +Then honour me thus far—for I am he. + +BEATRICE [TO LUCRETIA]: +Great God! How horrible! some dreadful ill +Must have befallen my brothers. + +LUCRETIA: +Fear not, child, _35 +He speaks too frankly. + +BEATRICE: +Ah! My blood runs cold. +I fear that wicked laughter round his eye, +Which wrinkles up the skin even to the hair. + +CENCI: +Here are the letters brought from Salamanca; +Beatrice, read them to your mother. God! _40 +I thank thee! In one night didst thou perform, +By ways inscrutable, the thing I sought. +My disobedient and rebellious sons +Are dead!—Why, dead!—What means this change of cheer? +You hear me not, I tell you they are dead; _45 +And they will need no food or raiment more: +The tapers that did light them the dark way +Are their last cost. The Pope, I think, will not +Expect I should maintain them in their coffins. +Rejoice with me—my heart is wondrous glad. _50 + +[LUCRETIA SINKS, HALF FAINTING; BEATRICE SUPPORTS HER.] + +BEATRICE : +It is not true!—Dear Lady, pray look up. +Had it been true, there is a God in Heaven, +He would not live to boast of such a boon. +Unnatural man, thou knowest that it is false. + +CENCI: +Ay, as the word of God; whom here I call _55 +To witness that I speak the sober truth;— +And whose most favouring Providence was shown +Even in the manner of their deaths. For Rocco +Was kneeling at the mass, with sixteen others, +When the church fell and crushed him to a mummy, _60 +The rest escaped unhurt. Cristofano +Was stabbed in error by a jealous man, +Whilst she he loved was sleeping with his rival; +All in the self-same hour of the same night; +Which shows that Heaven has special care of me. _65 +I beg those friends who love me, that they mark +The day a feast upon their calendars. +It was the twenty-seventh of December: +Ay, read the letters if you doubt my oath. + +[THE ASSEMBLY APPEARS CONFUSED; SEVERAL OF THE GUESTS RISE.] + +FIRST GUEST: +Oh, horrible! I will depart— + +SECOND GUEST: +And I.— + +THIRD GUEST: +No, stay! _70 +I do believe it is some jest; though faith! +’Tis mocking us somewhat too solemnly. +I think his son has married the Infanta, +Or found a mine of gold in El Dorado. +’Tis but to season some such news; stay, stay! _75 +I see ’tis only raillery by his smile. + +CENCI [FILLING A BOWL OF WINE, AND LIFTING IT UP]: +Oh, thou bright wine whose purple splendour leaps +And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl +Under the lamplight, as my spirits do, +To hear the death of my accursed sons! _80 +Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood, +Then would I taste thee like a sacrament, +And pledge with thee the mighty Devil in Hell, +Who, if a father’s curses, as men say, +Climb with swift wings after their children’s souls, _85 +And drag them from the very throne of Heaven, +Now triumphs in my triumph!—But thou art +Superfluous; I have drunken deep of joy, +And I will taste no other wine to-night. +Here, Andrea! Bear the bowl around. + +A GUEST [RISING]: +Thou wretch! _90 +Will none among this noble company +Check the abandoned villain? + +CAMILLO: +For God’s sake, +Let me dismiss the guests! You are insane, +Some ill will come of this. + +SECOND GUEST: +Seize, silence him! + +FIRST GUEST: +I will! + +THIRD GUEST: +And I! + +CENCI [ADDRESSING THOSE WHO RISE WITH A THREATENING GESTURE]: +Who moves? Who speaks? +[TURNING TO THE COMPANY.] +’tis nothing, _95 +Enjoy yourselves.—Beware! For my revenge +Is as the sealed commission of a king +That kills, and none dare name the murderer. + +[THE BANQUET IS BROKEN UP; SEVERAL OF THE GUESTS ARE DEPARTING.] + +BEATRICE: +I do entreat you, go not, noble guests; +What, although tyranny and impious hate _100 +Stand sheltered by a father’s hoary hair? +What if ’tis he who clothed us in these limbs +Who tortures them, and triumphs? What, if we, +The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh, +His children and his wife, whom he is bound _105 +To love and shelter? Shall we therefore find +No refuge in this merciless wide world? +O think what deep wrongs must have blotted out +First love, then reverence in a child’s prone mind, +Till it thus vanquish shame and fear! O think! _110 +I have borne much, and kissed the sacred hand +Which crushed us to the earth, and thought its stroke +Was perhaps some paternal chastisement! +Have excused much, doubted; and when no doubt +Remained, have sought by patience, love, and tears _115 +To soften him, and when this could not be +I have knelt down through the long sleepless nights +And lifted up to God, the Father of all, +Passionate prayers: and when these were not heard +I have still borne,—until I meet you here, _120 +Princes and kinsmen, at this hideous feast +Given at my brothers’ deaths. Two yet remain, +His wife remains and I, whom if ye save not, +Ye may soon share such merriment again +As fathers make over their children’s graves. _125 +O Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman, +Cardinal, thou art the Pope’s chamberlain, +Camillo, thou art chief justiciary, +Take us away! + +CENCI [HE HAS BEEN CONVERSING WITH CAMILLO DURING THE FIRST PART OF +BEATRICE’S SPEECH; HE HEARS THE CONCLUSION, AND NOW ADVANCES]: +I hope my good friends here +Will think of their own daughters—or perhaps _130 +Of their own throats—before they lend an ear +To this wild girl. + +BEATRICE [NOT NOTICING THE WORDS OF CENCI]: +Dare no one look on me? +None answer? Can one tyrant overbear +The sense of many best and wisest men? +Or is it that I sue not in some form _135 +Of scrupulous law, that ye deny my suit? +O God! That I were buried with my brothers! +And that the flowers of this departed spring +Were fading on my grave! And that my father +Were celebrating now one feast for all! _140 + +NOTE: +_132 no edition 1821; not edition 1819. + +CAMILLO: +A bitter wish for one so young and gentle. +Can we do nothing? + +COLONNA: +Nothing that I see. +Count Cenci were a dangerous enemy: +Yet I would second any one. + +A CARDINAL: +And I. + +CENCI: +Retire to your chamber, insolent girl! _145 + +BEATRICE: +Retire thou, impious man! Ay, hide thyself +Where never eye can look upon thee more! +Wouldst thou have honour and obedience +Who art a torturer? Father, never dream, +Though thou mayst overbear this company, _150 +But ill must come of ill.—Frown not on me! +Haste, hide thyself, lest with avenging looks +My brothers’ ghosts should hunt thee from thy seat! +Cover thy face from every living eye, +And start if thou but hear a human step: _155 +Seek out some dark and silent corner, there, +Bow thy white head before offended God, +And we will kneel around, and fervently +Pray that he pity both ourselves and thee. + +CENCI: +My friends, I do lament this insane girl _160 +Has spoilt the mirth of our festivity. +Good night, farewell; I will not make you longer +Spectators of our dull domestic quarrels. +Another time.— +[EXEUNT ALL BUT CENCI AND BEATRICE.] +My brain is swimming round; +Give me a bowl of wine! +[TO BEATRICE.] +Thou painted viper! _165 +Beast that thou art! Fair and yet terrible! +I know a charm shall make thee meek and tame, +Now get thee from my sight! +[EXIT BEATRICE.] +Here, Andrea, +Fill up this goblet with Greek wine. I said +I would not drink this evening; but I must; _170 +For, strange to say, I feel my spirits fail +With thinking what I have decreed to do.— +[DRINKING THE WINE.] +Be thou the resolution of quick youth +Within my veins, and manhood’s purpose stern, +And age’s firm, cold, subtle villainy; _175 +As if thou wert indeed my children’s blood +Which I did thirst to drink! The charm works well; +It must be done; it shall be done, I swear! + +[EXIT.] + +END OF ACT 1. + + +ACT 2. + +SCENE 2.1: +AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE. +ENTER LUCRETIA AND BERNARDO. + +LUCRETIA: +Weep not, my gentle boy; he struck but me +Who have borne deeper wrongs. In truth, if he +Had killed me, he had done a kinder deed. +O God Almighty, do Thou look upon us, +We have no other friend but only Thee! _5 +Yet weep not; though I love you as my own, +I am not your true mother. + +BERNARDO: +Oh, more, more, +Than ever mother was to any child, +That have you been to me! Had he not been +My father, do you think that I should weep! _10 + +LUCRETIA: +Alas! Poor boy, what else couldst thou have done? + +[ENTER BEATRICE.] + +BEATRICE [IN A HURRIED VOICE]: +Did he pass this way? Have you seen him, brother? +Ah, no! that is his step upon the stairs; +’Tis nearer now; his hand is on the door; +Mother, if I to thee have ever been _15 +A duteous child, now save me! Thou, great God, +Whose image upon earth a father is, +Dost thou indeed abandon me? He comes; +The door is opening now; I see his face; +He frowns on others, but he smiles on me, _20 +Even as he did after the feast last night. +[ENTER A SERVANT.] +Almighty God, how merciful Thou art! +’Tis but Orsino’s servant.—Well, what news? + +SERVANT: +My master bids me say, the Holy Father +Has sent back your petition thus unopened. _25 +[GIVING A PAPER.] +And he demands at what hour ’twere secure +To visit you again? + +LUCRETIA: +At the Ave Mary. +[EXIT SERVANT.] +So, daughter, our last hope has failed. Ah me! +How pale you look; you tremble, and you stand +Wrapped in some fixed and fearful meditation, _30 +As if one thought were over strong for you: +Your eyes have a chill glare; O, dearest child! +Are you gone mad? If not, pray speak to me. + +BEATRICE: +You see I am not mad: I speak to you. + +LUCRETIA: +You talked of something that your father did _35 +After that dreadful feast? Could it be worse +Than when he smiled, and cried, ‘My sons are dead!’ +And every one looked in his neighbour’s face +To see if others were as white as he? +At the first word he spoke I felt the blood _40 +Rush to my heart, and fell into a trance; +And when it passed I sat all weak and wild; +Whilst you alone stood up, and with strong words +Checked his unnatural pride; and I could see +The devil was rebuked that lives in him. _45 +Until this hour thus you have ever stood +Between us and your father’s moody wrath +Like a protecting presence; your firm mind +Has been our only refuge and defence: +What can have thus subdued it? What can now _50 +Have given you that cold melancholy look, +Succeeding to your unaccustomed fear? + +BEATRICE: +What is it that you say? I was just thinking +’Twere better not to struggle any more. +Men, like my father, have been dark and bloody, _55 +Yet never—Oh! Before worse comes of it +’Twere wise to die: it ends in that at last. + +LUCRETIA: +Oh, talk not so, dear child! Tell me at once +What did your father do or say to you? +He stayed not after that accursed feast _60 +One moment in your chamber.—Speak to me. + +BERNARDO: +Oh, sister, sister, prithee, speak to us! + +BEATRICE [SPEAKING VERY SLOWLY, WITH A FORCED CALMNESS]: +It was one word, Mother, one little word; +One look, one smile. +[WILDLY.] +Oh! He has trampled me +Under his feet, and made the blood stream down _65 +My pallid cheeks. And he has given us all +Ditch-water, and the fever-stricken flesh +Of buffaloes, and bade us eat or starve, +And we have eaten.—He has made me look +On my beloved Bernardo, when the rust _70 +Of heavy chains has gangrened his sweet limbs, +And I have never yet despaired—but now! +What could I say? +[RECOVERING HERSELF.] +Ah, no! ’tis nothing new. +The sufferings we all share have made me wild: +He only struck and cursed me as he passed; _75 +He said, he looked, he did;—nothing at all +Beyond his wont, yet it disordered me. +Alas! I am forgetful of my duty, +I should preserve my senses for your sake. + +LUCRETIA: +Nay, Beatrice; have courage, my sweet girl. _80 +If any one despairs it should be I +Who loved him once, and now must live with him +Till God in pity call for him or me. +For you may, like your sister, find some husband, +And smile, years hence, with children round your knees; _85 +Whilst I, then dead, and all this hideous coil +Shall be remembered only as a dream. + +BEATRICE: +Talk not to me, dear lady, of a husband. +Did you not nurse me when my mother died? +Did you not shield me and that dearest boy? _90 +And had we any other friend but you +In infancy, with gentle words and looks, +To win our father not to murder us? +And shall I now desert you? May the ghost +Of my dead Mother plead against my soul _95 +If I abandon her who filled the place +She left, with more, even, than a mother’s love! + +BERNARDO: +And I am of my sister’s mind. Indeed +I would not leave you in this wretchedness, +Even though the Pope should make me free to live _100 +In some blithe place, like others of my age, +With sports, and delicate food, and the fresh air. +Oh, never think that I will leave you, Mother! + +LUCRETIA: +My dear, dear children! + +[ENTER CENCI, SUDDENLY.] + +CENCI: +What! Beatrice here! +Come hither! +[SHE SHRINKS BACK, AND COVERS HER FACE.] +Nay, hide not your face, ’tis fair; _105 +Look up! Why, yesternight you dared to look +With disobedient insolence upon me, +Bending a stern and an inquiring brow +On what I meant; whilst I then sought to hide +That which I came to tell you—but in vain. _110 + +BEATRICE [WILDLY STAGGERING TOWARDS THE DOOR]: +Oh, that the earth would gape! Hide me, O God! + +CENCI: +Then it was I whose inarticulate words +Fell from my lips, and who with tottering steps +Fled from your presence, as you now from mine. +Stay, I command you—from this day and hour _115 +Never again, I think, with fearless eye, +And brow superior, and unaltered cheek, +And that lip made for tenderness or scorn, +Shalt thou strike dumb the meanest of mankind; +Me least of all. Now get thee to thy chamber! _120 +Thou too, loathed image of thy cursed mother, +[TO BERNARDO.] +Thy milky, meek face makes me sick with hate! +[EXEUNT BEATRICE AND BERNARDO.] +[ASIDE.] +So much has passed between us as must make +Me bold, her fearful.—’Tis an awful thing +To touch such mischief as I now conceive: _125 +So men sit shivering on the dewy bank, +And try the chill stream with their feet; once in... +How the delighted spirit pants for joy! + +LUCRETIA [ADVANCING TIMIDLY TOWARDS HIM]: +O husband! Pray forgive poor Beatrice. +She meant not any ill. + +CENCI: +Nor you perhaps? _130 +Nor that young imp, whom you have taught by rote +Parricide with his alphabet? Nor Giacomo? +Nor those two most unnatural sons, who stirred +Enmity up against me with the Pope? +Whom in one night merciful God cut off: _135 +Innocent lambs! They thought not any ill. +You were not here conspiring? You said nothing +Of how I might be dungeoned as a madman; +Or be condemned to death for some offence, +And you would be the witnesses?—This failing, _140 +How just it were to hire assassins, or +Put sudden poison in my evening drink? +Or smother me when overcome by wine? +Seeing we had no other judge but God, +And He had sentenced me, and there were none _145 +But you to be the executioners +Of His decree enregistered in heaven? +Oh, no! You said not this? + +LUCRETIA: +So help me God, +I never thought the things you charge me with! + +CENCI: +If you dare to speak that wicked lie again _150 +I’ll kill you. What! It was not by your counsel +That Beatrice disturbed the feast last night? +You did not hope to stir some enemies +Against me, and escape, and laugh to scorn +What every nerve of you now trembles at? _155 +You judged that men were bolder than they are; +Few dare to stand between their grave and me. + +LUCRETIA: +Look not so dreadfully! By my salvation +I knew not aught that Beatrice designed; +Nor do I think she designed any thing _160 +Until she heard you talk of her dead brothers. + +CENCI: +Blaspheming liar! You are damned for this! +But I will take you where you may persuade +The stones you tread on to deliver you: +For men shall there be none but those who dare _165 +All things—not question that which I command. +On Wednesday next I shall set out: you know +That savage rock, the Castle of Petrella: +’Tis safely walled, and moated round about: +Its dungeons underground, and its thick towers _170 +Never told tales; though they have heard and seen +What might make dumb things speak.—Why do you linger? +Make speediest preparation for the journey! +[EXIT LUCRETIA.] +The all-beholding sun yet shines; I hear +A busy stir of men about the streets; _175 +I see the bright sky through the window panes: +It is a garish, broad, and peering day; +Loud, light, suspicious, full of eyes and ears, +And every little corner, nook, and hole +Is penetrated with the insolent light. _180 +Come darkness! Yet, what is the day to me? +And wherefore should I wish for night, who do +A deed which shall confound both night and day? +’Tis she shall grope through a bewildering mist +Of horror: if there be a sun in heaven _185 +She shall not dare to look upon its beams; +Nor feel its warmth. Let her then wish for night; +The act I think shall soon extinguish all +For me: I bear a darker deadlier gloom +Than the earth’s shade, or interlunar air, _190 +Or constellations quenched in murkiest cloud, +In which I walk secure and unbeheld +Towards my purpose.—Would that it were done! + +[EXIT.] + +SCENE 2.2: +A CHAMBER IN THE VATICAN. +ENTER CAMILLO AND GIACOMO, IN CONVERSATION. + +CAMILLO: +There is an obsolete and doubtful law +By which you might obtain a bare provision +Of food and clothing— + +GIACOMO: +Nothing more? Alas! +Bare must be the provision which strict law +Awards, and aged, sullen avarice pays. _5 +Why did my father not apprentice me +To some mechanic trade? I should have then +Been trained in no highborn necessities +Which I could meet not by my daily toil. +The eldest son of a rich nobleman _10 +Is heir to all his incapacities; +He has wide wants, and narrow powers. If you, +Cardinal Camillo, were reduced at once +From thrice-driven beds of down, and delicate food, +An hundred servants, and six palaces, _15 +To that which nature doth indeed require?— + +CAMILLO: +Nay, there is reason in your plea; ’twere hard. + +GIACOMO: +’Tis hard for a firm man to bear: but I +Have a dear wife, a lady of high birth, +Whose dowry in ill hour I lent my father _20 +Without a bond or witness to the deed: +And children, who inherit her fine senses, +The fairest creatures in this breathing world; +And she and they reproach me not. Cardinal, +Do you not think the Pope would interpose _25 +And stretch authority beyond the law? + +CAMILLO: +Though your peculiar case is hard, I know +The Pope will not divert the course of law. +After that impious feast the other night +I spoke with him, and urged him then to check _30 +Your father’s cruel hand; he frowned and said, +‘Children are disobedient, and they sting +Their fathers’ hearts to madness and despair, +Requiting years of care with contumely. +I pity the Count Cenci from my heart; _35 +His outraged love perhaps awakened hate, +And thus he is exasperated to ill. +In the great war between the old and young +I, who have white hairs and a tottering body, +Will keep at least blameless neutrality.’ _40 +[ENTER ORSINO.] +You, my good Lord Orsino, heard those words. + +ORSINO: +What words? + +GIACOMO: +Alas, repeat them not again! +There then is no redress for me, at least +None but that which I may achieve myself, +Since I am driven to the brink.—But, say, _45 +My innocent sister and my only brother +Are dying underneath my father’s eye. +The memorable torturers of this land, +Galeaz Visconti, Borgia, Ezzelin, +Never inflicted on their meanest slave _50 +What these endure; shall they have no protection? + +CAMILLO: +Why, if they would petition to the Pope +I see not how he could refuse it—yet +He holds it of most dangerous example +In aught to weaken the paternal power, _55 +Being, as ’twere, the shadow of his own. +I pray you now excuse me. I have business +That will not bear delay. + +[EXIT CAMILLO.] + +GIACOMO: +But you, Orsino, +Have the petition: wherefore not present it? + +ORSINO: +I have presented it, and backed it with _60 +My earnest prayers, and urgent interest; +It was returned unanswered. I doubt not +But that the strange and execrable deeds +Alleged in it—in truth they might well baffle +Any belief—have turned the Pope’s displeasure _65 +Upon the accusers from the criminal: +So I should guess from what Camillo said. + +GIACOMO: +My friend, that palace-walking devil Gold +Has whispered silence to his Holiness: +And we are left, as scorpions ringed with fire. _70 +What should we do but strike ourselves to death? +For he who is our murderous persecutor +Is shielded by a father’s holy name, +Or I would— + +[STOPS ABRUPTLY.] + +ORSINO: +What? Fear not to speak your thought. +Words are but holy as the deeds they cover: _75 +A priest who has forsworn the God he serves; +A judge who makes Truth weep at his decree; +A friend who should weave counsel, as I now, +But as the mantle of some selfish guile; +A father who is all a tyrant seems, _80 +Were the profaner for his sacred name. + +NOTE: +_77 makes Truth edition 1821; makes the truth editions 1819, 1839. + +GIACOMO: +Ask me not what I think; the unwilling brain +Feigns often what it would not; and we trust +Imagination with such fantasies +As the tongue dares not fashion into words, _85 +Which have no words, their horror makes them dim +To the mind’s eye.—My heart denies itself +To think what you demand. + +ORSINO: +But a friend’s bosom +Is as the inmost cave of our own mind +Where we sit shut from the wide gaze of day, _90 +And from the all-communicating air. +You look what I suspected— + +GIACOMO: +Spare me now! +I am as one lost in a midnight wood, +Who dares not ask some harmless passenger +The path across the wilderness, lest he, _95 +As my thoughts are, should be—a murderer. +I know you are my friend, and all I dare +Speak to my soul that will I trust with thee. +But now my heart is heavy, and would take +Lone counsel from a night of sleepless care. _100 +Pardon me, that I say farewell—farewell! +I would that to my own suspected self +I could address a word so full of peace. + +ORSINO: +Farewell!—Be your thoughts better or more bold. +[EXIT GIACOMO.] +I had disposed the Cardinal Camillo _105 +To feed his hope with cold encouragement: +It fortunately serves my close designs +That ’tis a trick of this same family +To analyse their own and other minds. +Such self-anatomy shall teach the will _110 +Dangerous secrets: for it tempts our powers, +Knowing what must be thought, and may be done. +Into the depth of darkest purposes: +So Cenci fell into the pit; even I, +Since Beatrice unveiled me to myself, _115 +And made me shrink from what I cannot shun, +Show a poor figure to my own esteem, +To which I grow half reconciled. I’ll do +As little mischief as I can; that thought +Shall fee the accuser conscience. +[AFTER A PAUSE.] +Now what harm _120 +If Cenci should be murdered?—Yet, if murdered, +Wherefore by me? And what if I could take +The profit, yet omit the sin and peril +In such an action? Of all earthly things +I fear a man whose blows outspeed his words _125 +And such is Cenci: and while Cenci lives +His daughter’s dowry were a secret grave +If a priest wins her.—Oh, fair Beatrice! +Would that I loved thee not, or loving thee, +Could but despise danger and gold and all _130 +That frowns between my wish and its effect. +Or smiles beyond it! There is no escape... +Her bright form kneels beside me at the altar, +And follows me to the resort of men, +And fills my slumber with tumultuous dreams, _135 +So when I wake my blood seems liquid fire; +And if I strike my damp and dizzy head +My hot palm scorches it: her very name, +But spoken by a stranger, makes my heart +Sicken and pant; and thus unprofitably _140 +I clasp the phantom of unfelt delights +Till weak imagination half possesses +The self-created shadow. Yet much longer +Will I not nurse this life of feverous hours: +From the unravelled hopes of Giacomo _145 +I must work out my own dear purposes. +I see, as from a tower, the end of all: +Her father dead; her brother bound to me +By a dark secret, surer than the grave; +Her mother scared and unexpostulating _150 +From the dread manner of her wish achieved; +And she!—Once more take courage, my faint heart; +What dares a friendless maiden matched with thee? +I have such foresight as assures success: +Some unbeheld divinity doth ever, _155 +When dread events are near, stir up men’s minds +To black suggestions; and he prospers best, +Not who becomes the instrument of ill, +But who can flatter the dark spirit, that makes +Its empire and its prey of other hearts _160 +Till it become his slave...as I will do. + +[EXIT.] + +END OF ACT 2. + + +ACT 3. + +SCENE 3.1: +AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE. +LUCRETIA, TO HER ENTER BEATRICE. + +BEATRICE [SHE ENTERS STAGGERING AND SPEAKS WILDLY]: +Reach me that handkerchief!—My brain is hurt; +My eyes are full of blood; just wipe them for me... +I see but indistinctly... + +LUCRETIA: +My sweet child, +You have no wound; ’tis only a cold dew +That starts from your dear brow.—Alas! Alas! _5 +What has befallen? + +BEATRICE: +How comes this hair undone? +Its wandering strings must be what blind me so, +And yet I tied it fast.—Oh, horrible! +The pavement sinks under my feet! The walls +Spin round! I see a woman weeping there, _10 +And standing calm and motionless, whilst I +Slide giddily as the world reels...My God! +The beautiful blue heaven is flecked with blood! +The sunshine on the floor is black! The air +Is changed to vapours such as the dead breathe _15 +In charnel pits! Pah! I am choked! There creeps +A clinging, black, contaminating mist +About me...’tis substantial, heavy, thick, +I cannot pluck it from me, for it glues +My fingers and my limbs to one another, _20 +And eats into my sinews, and dissolves +My flesh to a pollution, poisoning +The subtle, pure, and inmost spirit of life! +My God! I never knew what the mad felt +Before; for I am mad beyond all doubt! _25 +[MORE WILDLY.] +No, I am dead! These putrefying limbs +Shut round and sepulchre the panting soul +Which would burst forth into the wandering air! +[A PAUSE.] +What hideous thought was that I had even now? +’Tis gone; and yet its burthen remains here _30 +O’er these dull eyes...upon this weary heart! +O, world! O, life! O, day! O, misery! + +LUCRETIA: +What ails thee, my poor child? She answers not: +Her spirit apprehends the sense of pain, +But not its cause; suffering has dried away _35 +The source from which it sprung... + +BEATRICE [FRANTICLY]: +Like Parricide... +Misery has killed its father: yet its father +Never like mine...O, God! What thing am I? + +LUCRETIA: +My dearest child, what has your father done? + +BEATRICE [DOUBTFULLY]: +Who art thou, questioner? I have no father. _40 +[ASIDE.] +She is the madhouse nurse who tends on me, +It is a piteous office. +[TO LUCRETIA, IN A SLOW, SUBDUED VOICE.] +Do you know +I thought I was that wretched Beatrice +Men speak of, whom her father sometimes hales +From hall to hall by the entangled hair; _45 +At others, pens up naked in damp cells +Where scaly reptiles crawl, and starves her there, +Till she will eat strange flesh. This woful story +So did I overact in my sick dreams, +That I imagined...no, it cannot be! _50 +Horrible things have been in this wide world, +Prodigious mixtures, and confusions strange +Of good and ill; and worse have been conceived +Than ever there was found a heart to do. +But never fancy imaged such a deed _55 +As... +[PAUSES, SUDDENLY RECOLLECTING HERSELF.] +Who art thou? Swear to me, ere I die +With fearful expectation, that indeed +Thou art not what thou seemest...Mother! + +LUCRETIA: +Oh! +My sweet child, know you... + +BEATRICE: +Yet speak it not: +For then if this be truth, that other too _60 +Must be a truth, a firm enduring truth, +Linked with each lasting circumstance of life, +Never to change, never to pass away. +Why so it is. This is the Cenci Palace; +Thou art Lucretia; I am Beatrice. _65 +I have talked some wild words, but will no more. +Mother, come near me: from this point of time, +I am... +[HER VOICE DIES AWAY FAINTLY.] + +LUCRETIA: +Alas! What has befallen thee, child? +What has thy father done? + +BEATRICE: +What have I done? +Am I not innocent? Is it my crime _70 +That one with white hair, and imperious brow, +Who tortured me from my forgotten years, +As parents only dare, should call himself +My father, yet should be!—Oh, what am I? +What name, what place, what memory shall be mine? _75 +What retrospects, outliving even despair? + +LUCRETIA: +He is a violent tyrant, surely, child: +We know that death alone can make us free; +His death or ours. But what can he have done +Of deadlier outrage or worse injury? _80 +Thou art unlike thyself; thine eyes shoot forth +A wandering and strange spirit. Speak to me, +Unlock those pallid hands whose fingers twine +With one another. + +BEATRICE: +’Tis the restless life +Tortured within them. If I try to speak, _85 +I shall go mad. Ay, something must be done; +What, yet I know not...something which shall make +The thing that I have suffered but a shadow +In the dread lightning which avenges it; +Brief, rapid, irreversible, destroying _90 +The consequence of what it cannot cure. +Some such thing is to be endured or done: +When I know what, I shall be still and calm, +And never anything will move me more. +But now!—O blood, which art my father’s blood, _95 +Circling through these contaminated veins, +If thou, poured forth on the polluted earth, +Could wash away the crime, and punishment +By which I suffer...no, that cannot be! +Many might doubt there were a God above _100 +Who sees and permits evil, and so die: +That faith no agony shall obscure in me. + +LUCRETIA: +It must indeed have been some bitter wrong; +Yet what, I dare not guess. Oh, my lost child, +Hide not in proud impenetrable grief _105 +Thy sufferings from my fear. + +BEATRICE: +I hide them not. +What are the words which you would have me speak? +I, who can feign no image in my mind +Of that which has transformed me: I, whose thought +Is like a ghost shrouded and folded up _110 +In its own formless horror: of all words, +That minister to mortal intercourse, +Which wouldst thou hear? For there is none to tell +My misery: if another ever knew +Aught like to it, she died as I will die, _115 +And left it, as I must, without a name. +Death, Death! Our law and our religion call thee +A punishment and a reward...Oh, which +Have I deserved? + +LUCRETIA: +The peace of innocence; +Till in your season you be called to heaven. _120 +Whate’er you may have suffered, you have done +No evil. Death must be the punishment +Of crime, or the reward of trampling down +The thorns which God has strewed upon the path +Which leads to immortality. + +BEATRICE: +Ay, death... _125 +The punishment of crime. I pray thee, God, +Let me not be bewildered while I judge. +If I must live day after day, and keep +These limbs, the unworthy temple of Thy spirit, +As a foul den from which what Thou abhorrest _130 +May mock Thee, unavenged...it shall not be! +Self-murder...no, that might be no escape, +For Thy decree yawns like a Hell between +Our will and it:—O! In this mortal world +There is no vindication and no law _135 +Which can adjudge and execute the doom +Of that through which I suffer. +[ENTER ORSINO.] +[SHE APPROACHES HIM SOLEMNLY.] +Welcome, Friend! +I have to tell you that, since last we met, +I have endured a wrong so great and strange, +That neither life nor death can give me rest. _140 +Ask me not what it is, for there are deeds +Which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue. + +NOTE: +_140 nor edition 1821; or editions 1819, 1839 (1st). + +ORSINO: +And what is he who has thus injured you? + +BEATRICE: +The man they call my father: a dread name. + +ORSINO: +It cannot be... + +BEATRICE: +What it can be, or not, _145 +Forbear to think. It is, and it has been; +Advise me how it shall not be again. +I thought to die; but a religious awe +Restrains me, and the dread lest death itself +Might be no refuge from the consciousness _150 +Of what is yet unexpiated. Oh, speak! + +ORSINO: +Accuse him of the deed, and let the law +Avenge thee. + +BEATRICE: +Oh, ice-hearted counsellor! +If I could find a word that might make known +The crime of my destroyer; and that done, _155 +My tongue should like a knife tear out the secret +Which cankers my heart’s core; ay, lay all bare, +So that my unpolluted fame should be +With vilest gossips a stale mouthed story; +A mock, a byword, an astonishment:— _160 +If this were done, which never shall be done, +Think of the offender’s gold, his dreaded hate, +And the strange horror of the accuser’s tale, +Baffling belief, and overpowering speech; +Scarce whispered, unimaginable, wrapped _165 +In hideous hints...Oh, most assured redress! + +ORSINO: +You will endure it then? + +BEATRICE: +Endure!—Orsino, +It seems your counsel is small profit. +[TURNS FROM HIM, AND SPEAKS HALF TO HERSELF.] +Ay, +All must be suddenly resolved and done. +What is this undistinguishable mist _170 +Of thoughts, which rise, like shadow after shadow, +Darkening each other? + +ORSINO: +Should the offender live? +Triumph in his misdeed? and make, by use, +His crime, whate’er it is, dreadful no doubt, +Thine element; until thou mayest become _175 +Utterly lost; subdued even to the hue +Of that which thou permittest? + +BEATRICE [TO HERSELF]: +Mighty death! +Thou double-visaged shadow! Only judge! +Rightfullest arbiter! + +[SHE RETIRES, ABSORBED IN THOUGHT.] + +LUCRETIA: +If the lightning +Of God has e’er descended to avenge... _180 + +ORSINO: +Blaspheme not! His high Providence commits +Its glory on this earth, and their own wrongs +Into the hands of men; if they neglect +To punish crime... + +LUCRETIA: +But if one, like this wretch, +Should mock, with gold, opinion, law, and power? _185 +If there be no appeal to that which makes +The guiltiest tremble? If because our wrongs, +For that they are unnatural, strange and monstrous, +Exceed all measure of belief? O God! +If, for the very reasons which should make _190 +Redress most swift and sure, our injurer triumphs? +And we, the victims, bear worse punishment +Than that appointed for their torturer? + +ORSINO: +Think not +But that there is redress where there is wrong, +So we be bold enough to seize it. + +LUCRETIA: +How? _195 +If there were any way to make all sure, +I know not...but I think it might be good +To... + +ORSINO: +Why, his late outrage to Beatrice; +For it is such, as I but faintly guess, +As makes remorse dishonour, and leaves her _200 +Only one duty, how she may avenge: +You, but one refuge from ills ill endured; +Me, but one counsel... + +LUCRETIA: +For we cannot hope +That aid, or retribution, or resource +Will arise thence, where every other one _205 +Might find them with less need. + +[BEATRICE ADVANCES.] + +ORSINO: +Then... + +BEATRICE: +Peace, Orsino! +And, honoured Lady, while I speak, I pray, +That you put off, as garments overworn, +Forbearance and respect, remorse and fear, +And all the fit restraints of daily life, _210 +Which have been borne from childhood, but which now +Would be a mockery to my holier plea. +As I have said, I have endured a wrong, +Which, though it be expressionless, is such +As asks atonement; both for what is past, _215 +And lest I be reserved, day after day, +To load with crimes an overburthened soul, +And be...what ye can dream not. I have prayed +To God, and I have talked with my own heart, +And have unravelled my entangled will, _220 +And have at length determined what is right. +Art thou my friend, Orsino? False or true? +Pledge thy salvation ere I speak. + +ORSINO: +I swear +To dedicate my cunning, and my strength, +My silence, and whatever else is mine, _225 +To thy commands. + +LUCRETIA: +You think we should devise +His death? + +BEATRICE: +And execute what is devised, +And suddenly. We must be brief and bold. + +ORSINO: +And yet most cautious. + +LUCRETIA: +For the jealous laws +Would punish us with death and infamy _230 +For that which it became themselves to do. + +BEATRICE: +Be cautious as ye may, but prompt. Orsino, +What are the means? + +ORSINO: +I know two dull, fierce outlaws, +Who think man’s spirit as a worm’s, and they +Would trample out, for any slight caprice, _235 +The meanest or the noblest life. This mood +Is marketable here in Rome. They sell +What we now want. + +LUCRETIA: +To-morrow before dawn, +Cenci will take us to that lonely rock, +Petrella, in the Apulian Apennines. _240 +If he arrive there... + +BEATRICE: +He must not arrive. + +ORSINO: +Will it be dark before you reach the tower? + +LUCRETIA: +The sun will scarce be set. + +BEATRICE: +But I remember +Two miles on this side of the fort, the road +Crosses a deep ravine; ’tis rough and narrow, _245 +And winds with short turns down the precipice; +And in its depth there is a mighty rock, +Which has, from unimaginable years, +Sustained itself with terror and with toil +Over a gulf, and with the agony _250 +With which it clings seems slowly coming down; +Even as a wretched soul hour after hour, +Clings to the mass of life; yet, clinging, leans; +And leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss +In which it fears to fall: beneath this crag _255 +Huge as despair, as if in weariness, +The melancholy mountain yawns...below, +You hear but see not an impetuous torrent +Raging among the caverns, and a bridge +Crosses the chasm; and high above there grow, _260 +With intersecting trunks, from crag to crag, +Cedars, and yews, and pines; whose tangled hair +Is matted in one solid roof of shade +By the dark ivy’s twine. At noonday here +’Tis twilight, and at sunset blackest night. _265 + +ORSINO: +Before you reach that bridge make some excuse +For spurring on your mules, or loitering +Until... + +BEATRICE: +What sound is that? + +LUCRETIA: +Hark! No, it cannot be a servant’s step +It must be Cenci, unexpectedly _270 +Returned...Make some excuse for being here. + +BEATRICE [TO ORSINO AS SHE GOES OUT]: +That step we hear approach must never pass +The bridge of which we spoke. + +[EXEUNT LUCRETIA AND BEATRICE.] + +ORSINO: +What shall I do? +Cenci must find me here, and I must bear +The imperious inquisition of his looks _275 +As to what brought me hither: let me mask +Mine own in some inane and vacant smile. +[ENTER GIACOMO, IN A HURRIED MANNER.] +How! Have you ventured hither? Know you then +That Cenci is from home? + +NOTE: +_278 hither edition 1821; thither edition 1819. + +GIACOMO: +I sought him here; +And now must wait till he returns. + +ORSINO: +Great God! _280 +Weigh you the danger of this rashness? + +GIACOMO: +Ay! +Does my destroyer know his danger? We +Are now no more, as once, parent and child, +But man to man; the oppressor to the oppressed; +The slanderer to the slandered; foe to foe: _285 +He has cast Nature off, which was his shield, +And Nature casts him off, who is her shame; +And I spurn both. Is it a father’s throat +Which I will shake, and say, I ask not gold; +I ask not happy years; nor memories _290 +Of tranquil childhood; nor home-sheltered love; +Though all these hast thou torn from me, and more; +But only my fair fame; only one hoard +Of peace, which I thought hidden from thy hate, +Under the penury heaped on me by thee, _295 +Or I will...God can understand and pardon, +Why should I speak with man? + +ORSINO: +Be calm, dear friend. + +GIACOMO: +Well, I will calmly tell you what he did. +This old Francesco Cenci, as you know, +Borrowed the dowry of my wife from me, _300 +And then denied the loan; and left me so +In poverty, the which I sought to mend +By holding a poor office in the state. +It had been promised to me, and already +I bought new clothing for my ragged babes, _305 +And my wife smiled; and my heart knew repose. +When Cenci’s intercession, as I found, +Conferred this office on a wretch, whom thus +He paid for vilest service. I returned +With this ill news, and we sate sad together _310 +Solacing our despondency with tears +Of such affection and unbroken faith +As temper life’s worst bitterness; when he, +As he is wont, came to upbraid and curse, +Mocking our poverty, and telling us _315 +Such was God’s scourge for disobedient sons. +And then, that I might strike him dumb with shame, +I spoke of my wife’s dowry; but he coined +A brief yet specious tale, how I had wasted +The sum in secret riot; and he saw _320 +My wife was touched, and he went smiling forth. +And when I knew the impression he had made, +And felt my wife insult with silent scorn +My ardent truth, and look averse and cold, +I went forth too: but soon returned again; _325 +Yet not so soon but that my wife had taught +My children her harsh thoughts, and they all cried, +‘Give us clothes, father! Give us better food! +What you in one night squander were enough +For months!’ I looked, and saw that home was hell. _330 +And to that hell will I return no more +Until mine enemy has rendered up +Atonement, or, as he gave life to me +I will, reversing Nature’s law... + +ORSINO: +Trust me, +The compensation which thou seekest here _335 +Will be denied. + +GIACOMO: +Then...Are you not my friend? +Did you not hint at the alternative, +Upon the brink of which you see I stand, +The other day when we conversed together? +My wrongs were then less. That word parricide, _340 +Although I am resolved, haunts me like fear. + +ORSINO: +It must be fear itself, for the bare word +Is hollow mockery. Mark, how wisest God +Draws to one point the threads of a just doom, +So sanctifying it: what you devise _345 +Is, as it were, accomplished. + +GIACOMO: +Is he dead? + +ORSINO: +His grave is ready. Know that since we met +Cenci has done an outrage to his daughter. + +GIACOMO: +What outrage? + +ORSINO: +That she speaks not, but you may +Conceive such half conjectures as I do, _350 +From her fixed paleness, and the lofty grief +Of her stern brow bent on the idle air, +And her severe unmodulated voice, +Drowning both tenderness and dread; and last +From this; that whilst her step-mother and I, _355 +Bewildered in our horror, talked together +With obscure hints; both self-misunderstood +And darkly guessing, stumbling, in our talk, +Over the truth, and yet to its revenge, +She interrupted us, and with a look _360 +Which told, before she spoke it, he must die:... + +GIACOMO: +It is enough. My doubts are well appeased; +There is a higher reason for the act +Than mine; there is a holier judge than me, +A more unblamed avenger. Beatrice, _365 +Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth +Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised +A living flower, but thou hast pitied it +With needless tears! Fair sister, thou in whom +Men wondered how such loveliness and wisdom _370 +Did not destroy each other! Is there made +Ravage of thee? O, heart, I ask no more +Justification! Shall I wait, Orsino, +Till he return, and stab him at the door? + +ORSINO: +Not so; some accident might interpose _375 +To rescue him from what is now most sure; +And you are unprovided where to fly, +How to excuse or to conceal. Nay, listen: +All is contrived; success is so assured +That... + +[ENTER BEATRICE.] + +BEATRICE: +’Tis my brother’s voice! You know me not? + +GIACOMO: +My sister, my lost sister! _380 + +BEATRICE: +Lost indeed! +I see Orsino has talked with you, and +That you conjecture things too horrible +To speak, yet far less than the truth. Now, stay not, +He might return: yet kiss me; I shall know _385 +That then thou hast consented to his death. +Farewell, farewell! Let piety to God, +Brotherly love, justice and clemency, +And all things that make tender hardest hearts +Make thine hard, brother. Answer not...farewell. _390 + +[EXEUNT SEVERALLY.] + +SCENE 3.2: +A MEAN APARTMENT IN GIACOMO’S HOUSE. +GIACOMO ALONE. + +GIACOMO: +’Tis midnight, and Orsino comes not yet. +[THUNDER, AND THE SOUND OF A STORM.] +What! can the everlasting elements +Feel with a worm like man? If so, the shaft +Of mercy-winged lightning would not fall +On stones and trees. My wife and children sleep: _5 +They are now living in unmeaning dreams: +But I must wake, still doubting if that deed +Be just which is most necessary. O, +Thou unreplenished lamp! whose narrow fire +Is shaken by the wind, and on whose edge _10 +Devouring darkness hovers! Thou small flame, +Which, as a dying pulse rises and falls, +Still flickerest up and down, how very soon, +Did I not feed thee, wouldst thou fail and be +As thou hadst never been! So wastes and sinks _15 +Even now, perhaps, the life that kindled mine: +But that no power can fill with vital oil +That broken lamp of flesh. Ha! ’tis the blood +Which fed these veins that ebbs till all is cold: +It is the form that moulded mine that sinks _20 +Into the white and yellow spasms of death: +It is the soul by which mine was arrayed +In God’s immortal likeness which now stands +Naked before Heaven’s judgement seat! +[A BELL STRIKES.] +One! Two! +The hours crawl on; and, when my hairs are white, _25 +My son will then perhaps be waiting thus, +Tortured between just hate and vain remorse; +Chiding the tardy messenger of news +Like those which I expect. I almost wish +He be not dead, although my wrongs are great; _30 +Yet...’tis Orsino’s step... +[ENTER ORSINO.] +Speak! + +ORSINO: +I am come +To say he has escaped. + +GIACOMO: +Escaped! + +ORSINO: +And safe +Within Petrella. He passed by the spot +Appointed for the deed an hour too soon. + +GIACOMO: +Are we the fools of such contingencies? _35 +And do we waste in blind misgivings thus +The hours when we should act? Then wind and thunder, +Which seemed to howl his knell, is the loud laughter +With which Heaven mocks our weakness! I henceforth +Will ne’er repent of aught designed or done _40 +But my repentance. + +ORSINO: +See, the lamp is out. + +GIACOMO: +If no remorse is ours when the dim air +Has drank this innocent flame, why should we quail +When Cenci’s life, that light by which ill spirits +See the worst deeds they prompt, shall sink for ever? _45 +No, I am hardened. + +ORSINO: +Why, what need of this? +Who feared the pale intrusion of remorse +In a just deed? Although our first plan failed, +Doubt not but he will soon be laid to rest. +But light the lamp; let us not talk i’ the dark. _50 + +GIACOMO [LIGHTING THE LAMP]: +And yet once quenched I cannot thus relume +My father’s life: do you not think his ghost +Might plead that argument with God? + +ORSINO: +Once gone +You cannot now recall your sister’s peace; +Your own extinguished years of youth and hope; _55 +Nor your wife’s bitter words; nor all the taunts +Which, from the prosperous, weak misfortune takes; +Nor your dead mother; nor... + +GIACOMO: +O, speak no more! +I am resolved, although this very hand +Must quench the life that animated it. _60 + +ORSINO: +There is no need of that. Listen: you know +Olimpio, the castellan of Petrella +In old Colonna’s time; him whom your father +Degraded from his post? And Marzio, +That desperate wretch, whom he deprived last year _65 +Of a reward of blood, well earned and due? + +GIACOMO: +I knew Olimpio; and they say he hated +Old Cenci so, that in his silent rage +His lips grew white only to see him pass. +Of Marzio I know nothing. + +ORSINO: +Marzio’s hate _70 +Matches Olimpio’s. I have sent these men, +But in your name, and as at your request, +To talk with Beatrice and Lucretia. + +GIACOMO: +Only to talk? + +ORSINO: +The moments which even now +Pass onward to to-morrow’s midnight hour _75 +May memorize their flight with death: ere then +They must have talked, and may perhaps have done, +And made an end... + +GIACOMO: +Listen! What sound is that? + +ORSINO: +The house-dog moans, and the beams crack: nought else. + +GIACOMO: +It is my wife complaining in her sleep: _80 +I doubt not she is saying bitter things +Of me; and all my children round her dreaming +That I deny them sustenance. + +ORSINO: +Whilst he +Who truly took it from them, and who fills +Their hungry rest with bitterness, now sleeps _85 +Lapped in bad pleasures, and triumphantly +Mocks thee in visions of successful hate +Too like the truth of day. + +GIACOMO: +If e’er he wakes +Again, I will not trust to hireling hands... + +ORSINO: +Why, that were well. I must be gone; good-night. _90 +When next we meet—may all be done! + +NOTE: +_91 may all be done! +Giacomo: And all edition 1821; +Giacomo: May all be done, and all edition 1819. + +GIACOMO: +And all +Forgotten: Oh, that I had never been! + +[EXEUNT.] + +END OF ACT 3. + + +ACT 4. + +SCENE 4.1: +AN APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE OF PETRELLA. +ENTER CENCI. + +CENCI: +She comes not; yet I left her even now +Vanquished and faint. She knows the penalty +Of her delay: yet what if threats are vain? +Am I not now within Petrella’s moat? +Or fear I still the eyes and ears of Rome? _5 +Might I not drag her by the golden hair? +Stamp on her? keep her sleepless till her brain +Be overworn? Tame her with chains and famine? +Less would suffice. Yet so to leave undone +What I most seek! No, ’tis her stubborn will _10 +Which by its own consent shall stoop as low +As that which drags it down. +[ENTER LUCRETIA.] +Thou loathed wretch! +Hide thee from my abhorrence: fly, begone! +Yet stay! Bid Beatrice come hither. + +NOTE: +_4 not now edition 1821; now not edition 1819. + +LUCRETIA: +Oh, +Husband! I pray, for thine own wretched sake _15 +Heed what thou dost. A man who walks like thee +Through crimes, and through the danger of his crimes, +Each hour may stumble o’er a sudden grave. +And thou art old; thy hairs are hoary gray; +As thou wouldst save thyself from death and hell, _20 +Pity thy daughter; give her to some friend +In marriage: so that she may tempt thee not +To hatred, or worse thoughts, if worse there be. + +CENCI: +What! like her sister who has found a home +To mock my hate from with prosperity? _25 +Strange ruin shall destroy both her and thee +And all that yet remain. My death may be +Rapid, her destiny outspeeds it. Go, +Bid her come hither, and before my mood +Be changed, lest I should drag her by the hair. _30 + +LUCRETIA: +She sent me to thee, husband. At thy presence +She fell, as thou dost know, into a trance; +And in that trance she heard a voice which said, +‘Cenci must die! Let him confess himself! +Even now the accusing Angel waits to hear _35 +If God, to punish his enormous crimes, +Harden his dying heart!’ + +CENCI: +Why—such things are... +No doubt divine revealings may be made. +’Tis plain I have been favoured from above, +For when I cursed my sons they died.—Ay...so... _40 +As to the right or wrong, that’s talk...repentance... +Repentance is an easy moment’s work +And more depends on God than me. Well...well... +I must give up the greater point, which was +To poison and corrupt her soul. +[A PAUSE, LUCRETIA APPROACHES ANXIOUSLY, +AND THEN SHRINKS BACK AS HE SPEAKS.] +One, two; _45 +Ay...Rocco and Cristofano my curse +Strangled: and Giacomo, I think, will find +Life a worse Hell than that beyond the grave: +Beatrice shall, if there be skill in hate, +Die in despair, blaspheming: to Bernardo, _50 +He is so innocent, I will bequeath +The memory of these deeds, and make his youth +The sepulchre of hope, where evil thoughts +Shall grow like weeds on a neglected tomb. +When all is done, out in the wide Campagna, _55 +I will pile up my silver and my gold; +My costly robes, paintings, and tapestries; +My parchments and all records of my wealth, +And make a bonfire in my joy, and leave +Of my possessions nothing but my name; _60 +Which shall be an inheritance to strip +Its wearer bare as infamy. That done, +My soul, which is a scourge, will I resign +Into the hands of him who wielded it; +Be it for its own punishment or theirs, _65 +He will not ask it of me till the lash +Be broken in its last and deepest wound; +Until its hate be all inflicted. Yet, +Lest death outspeed my purpose, let me make +Short work and sure... + +[GOING.] + +LUCRETIA [STOPS HIM]: +Oh, stay! It was a feint: _70 +She had no vision, and she heard no voice. +I said it but to awe thee. + +CENCI: +That is well. +Vile palterer with the sacred truth of God, +Be thy soul choked with that blaspheming lie! +For Beatrice worse terrors are in store _75 +To bend her to my will. + +LUCRETIA: +Oh! to what will? +What cruel sufferings more than she has known +Canst thou inflict? + +CENCI: +Andrea! Go call my daughter, +And if she comes not tell her that I come. +What sufferings? I will drag her, step by step, _80 +Through infamies unheard of among men: +She shall stand shelterless in the broad noon +Of public scorn, for acts blazoned abroad, +One among which shall be...What? Canst thou guess? +She shall become (for what she most abhors _85 +Shall have a fascination to entrap +Her loathing will) to her own conscious self +All she appears to others; and when dead, +As she shall die unshrived and unforgiven, +A rebel to her father and her God, _90 +Her corpse shall be abandoned to the hounds; +Her name shall be the terror of the earth; +Her spirit shall approach the throne of God +Plague-spotted with my curses. I will make +Body and soul a monstrous lump of ruin. _95 + +[ENTER ANDREA.] + +ANDREA: +The Lady Beatrice... + +CENCI: +Speak, pale slave! What +Said she? + +ANDREA: +My Lord, ’twas what she looked; she said: +‘Go tell my father that I see the gulf +Of Hell between us two, which he may pass, +I will not.’ + +[EXIT ANDREA.] + +CENCI: +Go thou quick, Lucretia, _100 +Tell her to come; yet let her understand +Her coming is consent: and say, moreover, +That if she come not I will curse her. +[EXIT LUCRETIA.] +Ha! +With what but with a father’s curse doth God +Panic-strike armed victory, and make pale _105 +Cities in their prosperity? The world’s Father +Must grant a parent’s prayer against his child, +Be he who asks even what men call me. +Will not the deaths of her rebellious brothers +Awe her before I speak? For I on them _110 +Did imprecate quick ruin, and it came. +[ENTER LUCRETIA.] +Well; what? Speak, wretch! + +LUCRETIA: +She said, ‘I cannot come; +Go tell my father that I see a torrent +Of his own blood raging between us.’ + +CENCI [KNEELING]: +God, +Hear me! If this most specious mass of flesh, _115 +Which Thou hast made my daughter; this my blood, +This particle of my divided being; +Or rather, this my bane and my disease, +Whose sight infects and poisons me; this devil +Which sprung from me as from a hell, was meant _120 +To aught good use; if her bright loveliness +Was kindled to illumine this dark world; +If nursed by Thy selectest dew of love +Such virtues blossom in her as should make +The peace of life, I pray Thee for my sake, _125 +As Thou the common God and Father art +Of her, and me, and all; reverse that doom! +Earth, in the name of God, let her food be +Poison, until she be encrusted round +With leprous stains! Heaven, rain upon her head _130 +The blistering drops of the Maremma’s dew, +Till she be speckled like a toad; parch up +Those love-enkindled lips, warp those fine limbs +To loathed lameness! All-beholding sun, +Strike in thine envy those life-darting eyes _135 +With thine own blinding beams! + +LUCRETIA: +Peace! Peace! +For thine own sake unsay those dreadful words. +When high God grants He punishes such prayers. + +CENCI [LEAPING UP, AND THROWING HIS RIGHT HAND TOWARDS HEAVEN]: +He does his will, I mine! This in addition, +That if she have a child... + +LUCRETIA: +Horrible thought! _140 + +CENCI: +That if she ever have a child; and thou, +Quick Nature! I adjure thee by thy God, +That thou be fruitful in her, and increase +And multiply, fulfilling his command, +And my deep imprecation! May it be _145 +A hideous likeness of herself, that as +From a distorting mirror, she may see +Her image mixed with what she most abhors, +Smiling upon her from her nursing breast. +And that the child may from its infancy _150 +Grow, day by day, more wicked and deformed, +Turning her mother’s love to misery: +And that both she and it may live until +It shall repay her care and pain with hate, +Or what may else be more unnatural. _155 +So he may hunt her through the clamorous scoffs +Of the loud world to a dishonoured grave. +Shall I revoke this curse? Go, bid her come, +Before my words are chronicled in Heaven. +[EXIT LUCRETIA.] +I do not feel as if I were a man, _160 +But like a fiend appointed to chastise +The offences of some unremembered world. +My blood is running up and down my veins; +A fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle: +I feel a giddy sickness of strange awe; _165 +My heart is beating with an expectation +Of horrid joy. +[ENTER LUCRETIA.] +What? Speak! + +LUCRETIA: +She bids thee curse; +And if thy curses, as they cannot do, +Could kill her soul... + +CENCI: +She would not come. ’Tis well, +I can do both; first take what I demand, _170 +And then extort concession. To thy chamber! +Fly ere I spurn thee; and beware this night +That thou cross not my footsteps. It were safer +To come between the tiger and his prey. +[EXIT LUCRETIA.] +It must be late; mine eyes grow weary dim _175 +With unaccustomed heaviness of sleep. +Conscience! Oh, thou most insolent of lies! +They say that sleep, that healing dew of Heaven, +Steeps not in balm the foldings of the brain +Which thinks thee an impostor. I will go _180 +First to belie thee with an hour of rest, +Which will be deep and calm, I feel: and then... +O, multitudinous Hell, the fiends will shake +Thine arches with the laughter of their joy! +There shall be lamentation heard in Heaven _185 +As o’er an angel fallen; and upon Earth +All good shall droop and sicken, and ill things +Shall with a spirit of unnatural life, +Stir and be quickened...even as I am now. + +[EXIT.] + +SCENE 4.2: +BEFORE THE CASTLE OF PETRELLA. +ENTER BEATRICE AND LUCRETIA ABOVE ON THE RAMPARTS. + +BEATRICE: +They come not yet. + +LUCRETIA: +’Tis scarce midnight. + +BEATRICE: +How slow +Behind the course of thought, even sick with speed, +Lags leaden-footed time! + +LUCRETIA: +The minutes pass... +If he should wake before the deed is done? + +BEATRICE: +O, mother! He must never wake again. _5 +What thou hast said persuades me that our act +Will but dislodge a spirit of deep hell +Out of a human form. + +LUCRETIA: +’Tis true he spoke +Of death and judgement with strange confidence +For one so wicked; as a man believing _10 +In God, yet recking not of good or ill. +And yet to die without confession!... + +BEATRICE: +Oh! +Believe that Heaven is merciful and just, +And will not add our dread necessity +To the amount of his offences. + +[ENTER OLIMPIO AND MARZIO BELOW.] + +LUCRETIA: +See, _15 +They come. + +BEATRICE: +All mortal things must hasten thus +To their dark end. Let us go down. + +[EXEUNT LUCRETIA AND BEATRICE FROM ABOVE.] + +OLIMPIO: +How feel you to this work? + +MARZIO: +As one who thinks +A thousand crowns excellent market price +For an old murderer’s life. Your cheeks are pale. _20 + +OLIMPIO: +It is the white reflection of your own, +Which you call pale. + +MARZIO: +Is that their natural hue? + +OLIMPIO: +Or ’tis my hate and the deferred desire +To wreak it, which extinguishes their blood. + +MARZIO: +You are inclined then to this business? + +OLIMPIO: +Ay, _25 +If one should bribe me with a thousand crowns +To kill a serpent which had stung my child, +I could not be more willing. +[ENTER BEATRICE AND LUCRETIA BELOW.] +Noble ladies! + +BEATRICE: +Are ye resolved? + +OLIMPIO: +Is he asleep? + +MARZIO: +Is all +Quiet? + +LUCRETIA: +I mixed an opiate with his drink: _30 +He sleeps so soundly... + +BEATRICE: +That his death will be +But as a change of sin-chastising dreams, +A dark continuance of the Hell within him, +Which God extinguish! But ye are resolved? +Ye know it is a high and holy deed? _35 + +OLIMPIO: +We are resolved. + +MARZIO: +As to the how this act +Be warranted, it rests with you. + +BEATRICE: +Well, follow! + +OLIMPIO: +Hush! Hark! What noise is that? + +MARZIO: +Ha! some one comes! + +BEATRICE: +Ye conscience-stricken cravens, rock to rest +Your baby hearts. It is the iron gate, _40 +Which ye left open, swinging to the wind, +That enters whistling as in scorn. Come, follow! +And be your steps like mine, light, quick and bold. + +[EXEUNT.] + +SCENE 4.3: +AN APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE. +ENTER BEATRICE AND LUCRETIA. + +LUCRETIA: +They are about it now. + +BEATRICE: +Nay, it is done. + +LUCRETIA: +I have not heard him groan. + +BEATRICE: +He will not groan. + +LUCRETIA: +What sound is that? + +BEATRICE: +List! ’tis the tread of feet +About his bed. + +LUCRETIA: +My God! +If he be now a cold, stiff corpse... + +BEATRICE: +O, fear not _5 +What may be done, but what is left undone: +The act seals all. +[ENTER OLIMPIO AND MARZIO.] +Is it accomplished? + +MARZIO: +What? + +OLIMPIO: +Did you not call? + +BEATRICE: +When? + +OLIMPIO: +Now. + +BEATRICE: +I ask if all is over? + +OLIMPIO: +We dare not kill an old and sleeping man; +His thin gray hair, his stern and reverend brow, _10 +His veined hands crossed on his heaving breast, +And the calm innocent sleep in which he lay, +Quelled me. Indeed, indeed, I cannot do it. + +NOTE: +_10 reverend]reverent all editions. + +MARZIO: +But I was bolder; for I chid Olimpio, +And bade him bear his wrongs to his own grave _15 +And leave me the reward. And now my knife +Touched the loose wrinkled throat, when the old man +Stirred in his sleep, and said, ‘God! hear, O, hear, +A father’s curse! What, art Thou not our Father?’ +And then he laughed. I knew it was the ghost _20 +Of my dead father speaking through his lips, +And could not kill him. + +BEATRICE: +Miserable slaves! +Where, if ye dare not kill a sleeping man, +Found ye the boldness to return to me +With such a deed undone? Base palterers! _25 +Cowards and traitors! Why, the very conscience +Which ye would sell for gold and for revenge +Is an equivocation: it sleeps over +A thousand daily acts disgracing men; +And when a deed where mercy insults Heaven... _30 +Why do I talk? +[SNATCHING A DAGGER FROM ONE OF THEM, AND RAISING IT.] +Hadst thou a tongue to say, +‘She murdered her own father!’—I must do it! +But never dream ye shall outlive him long! + +OLIMPIO: +Stop, for God’s sake! + +MARZIO: +I will go back and kill him. + +OLIMPIO: +Give me the weapon, we must do thy will. _35 + +BEATRICE: +Take it! Depart! Return! +[EXEUNT OLIMPIO AND MARZIO.] +How pale thou art! +We do but that which ’twere a deadly crime +To leave undone. + +LUCRETIA: +Would it were done! + +BEATRICE: +Even whilst +That doubt is passing through your mind, the world +Is conscious of a change. Darkness and Hell _40 +Have swallowed up the vapour they sent forth +To blacken the sweet light of life. My breath +Comes, methinks, lighter, and the jellied blood +Runs freely through my veins. Hark! +[ENTER OLIMPIO AND MARZIO.] +He is... + +OLIMPIO: +Dead! + +MARZIO: +We strangled him that there might be no blood; _45 +And then we threw his heavy corpse i’ the garden +Under the balcony; ‘twill seem it fell. + +BEATRICE [GIVING THEM A BAG OF COIN]: +Here, take this gold, and hasten to your homes. +And, Marzio, because thou wast only awed +By that which made me tremble, wear thou this! _50 +[CLOTHES HIM IN A RICH MANTLE.] +It was the mantle which my grandfather +Wore in his high prosperity, and men +Envied his state: so may they envy thine. +Thou wert a weapon in the hand of God +To a just use. Live long and thrive! And, mark, _55 +If thou hast crimes, repent: this deed is none. + +[A HORN IS SOUNDED.] + +LUCRETIA: +Hark, ’tis the castle horn: my God! it sounds +Like the last trump. + +BEATRICE: +Some tedious guest is coming. + +LUCRETIA: +The drawbridge is let down; there is a tramp +Of horses in the court; fly, hide yourselves! _60 + +[EXEUNT OLIMPIO AND MARZIO.] + +BEATRICE: +Let us retire to counterfeit deep rest; +I scarcely need to counterfeit it now: +The spirit which doth reign within these limbs +Seems strangely undisturbed. I could even sleep +Fearless and calm: all ill is surely past. _65 + +[EXEUNT.] + +SCENE 4.4: +ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE. +ENTER ON ONE SIDE THE LEGATE SAVELLA, +INTRODUCED BY A SERVANT, +AND ON THE OTHER LUCRETIA AND BERNARDO. + +SAVELLA: +Lady, my duty to his Holiness +Be my excuse that thus unseasonably +I break upon your rest. I must speak with +Count Cenci; doth he sleep? + +LUCRETIA [IN A HURRIED AND CONFUSED MANNER]: +I think he sleeps; +Yet, wake him not, I pray, spare me awhile, _5 +He is a wicked and a wrathful man; +Should he be roused out of his sleep to-night, +Which is, I know, a hell of angry dreams, +It were not well; indeed it were not well. +Wait till day break... +[ASIDE.] +Oh, I am deadly sick! _10 + +NOTE: +_6 a wrathful edition 1821; wrathful editions 1819, 1839. + +SAVELLA: +I grieve thus to distress you, but the Count +Must answer charges of the gravest import, +And suddenly; such my commission is. + +LUCRETIA [WITH INCREASED AGITATION]: +I dare not rouse him: I know none who dare... +’Twere perilous;...you might as safely waken _15 +A serpent; or a corpse in which some fiend +Were laid to sleep. + +SAVELLA: +Lady, my moments here +Are counted. I must rouse him from his sleep, +Since none else dare. + +LUCRETIA [ASIDE]: +O, terror! O, despair! +[TO BERNARDO.] +Bernardo, conduct you the Lord Legate to _20 +Your father’s chamber. + +[EXEUNT SAVELLA AND BERNARDO.] + +[ENTER BEATRICE.] + +BEATRICE: +’Tis a messenger +Come to arrest the culprit who now stands +Before the throne of unappealable God. +Both Earth and Heaven, consenting arbiters, +Acquit our deed. + +LUCRETIA: +Oh, agony of fear! _25 +Would that he yet might live! Even now I heard +The Legate’s followers whisper as they passed +They had a warrant for his instant death. +All was prepared by unforbidden means +Which we must pay so dearly, having done. _30 +Even now they search the tower, and find the body; +Now they suspect the truth; now they consult +Before they come to tax us with the fact; +O, horrible, ’tis all discovered! + +BEATRICE: +Mother, +What is done wisely, is done well. Be bold _35 +As thou art just. ’Tis like a truant child +To fear that others know what thou hast done, +Even from thine own strong consciousness, and thus +Write on unsteady eyes and altered cheeks +All thou wouldst hide. Be faithful to thyself, _40 +And fear no other witness but thy fear. +For if, as cannot be, some circumstance +Should rise in accusation, we can blind +Suspicion with such cheap astonishment, +Or overbear it with such guiltless pride, _45 +As murderers cannot feign. The deed is done, +And what may follow now regards not me. +I am as universal as the light; +Free as the earth-surrounding air; as firm +As the world’s centre. Consequence, to me, _50 +Is as the wind which strikes the solid rock, +But shakes it not. + +[A CRY WITHIN AND TUMULT.] + +VOICES: +Murder! Murder! Murder! + +[ENTER BERNARDO AND SAVELLA.] + +SAVELLA [TO HIS FOLLOWERS]: +Go search the castle round; sound the alarm; +Look to the gates, that none escape! + +BEATRICE: +What now? + +BERNARDO: +I know not what to say...my father’s dead. _55 + +BEATRICE: +How; dead! he only sleeps; you mistake, brother. +His sleep is very calm, very like death; +’Tis wonderful how well a tyrant sleeps. +He is not dead? + +BERNARDO: +Dead; murdered. + +LUCRETIA [WITH EXTREME AGITATION]: +Oh no, no! +He is not murdered though he may be dead; _60 +I have alone the keys of those apartments. + +SAVELLA: +Ha! Is it so? + +BEATRICE: +My Lord, I pray excuse us; +We will retire; my mother is not well: +She seems quite overcome with this strange horror. + +[EXEUNT LUCRETIA AND BEATRICE.] + +SAVELLA: +Can you suspect who may have murdered him? _65 + +BERNARDO: +I know not what to think. + +SAVELLA: +Can you name any +Who had an interest in his death? + +BERNARDO: +Alas! +I can name none who had not, and those most +Who most lament that such a deed is done; +My mother, and my sister, and myself. _70 + +SAVELLA: +’Tis strange! There were clear marks of violence. +I found the old man’s body in the moonlight +Hanging beneath the window of his chamber, +Among the branches of a pine: he could not +Have fallen there, for all his limbs lay heaped _75 +And effortless; ’tis true there was no blood... +Favour me, Sir; it much imports your house +That all should be made clear; to tell the ladies +That I request their presence. + +[EXIT BERNARDO.] + +[ENTER GUARDS, BRINGING IN MARZIO.] + +GUARD: +We have one. + +OFFICER: +My Lord, we found this ruffian and another _80 +Lurking among the rocks; there is no doubt +But that they are the murderers of Count Cenci: +Each had a bag of coin; this fellow wore +A gold-inwoven robe, which, shining bright +Under the dark rocks to the glimmering moon _85 +Betrayed them to our notice: the other fell +Desperately fighting. + +SAVELLA: +What does he confess? + +OFFICER: +He keeps firm silence; but these lines found on him +May speak. + +SAVELLA: +Their language is at least sincere. +[READS.] +‘To the Lady Beatrice. _90 +That the atonement of what my nature sickens to conjecture may soon +arrive, I send thee, at thy brother’s desire, those who will speak and +do more than I dare write... +‘Thy devoted servant, Orsino.’ +[ENTER LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, AND BERNARDO.] +Knowest thou this writing, Lady? + +BEATRICE: +No. + +SAVELLA: +Nor thou? _95 + +LUCRETIA [HER CONDUCT THROUGHOUT THE SCENE IS MARKED BY EXTREME AGITATION]: +Where was it found? What is it? It should be +Orsino’s hand! It speaks of that strange horror +Which never yet found utterance, but which made +Between that hapless child and her dead father +A gulf of obscure hatred. + +SAVELLA: +Is it so? _100 +Is it true, Lady, that thy father did +Such outrages as to awaken in thee +Unfilial hate? + +BEATRICE: +Not hate, ’twas more than hate: +This is most true, yet wherefore question me? + +SAVELLA: +There is a deed demanding question done; _105 +Thou hast a secret which will answer not. + +BEATRICE: +What sayest? My Lord, your words are bold and rash. + +SAVELLA: +I do arrest all present in the name +Of the Pope’s Holiness. You must to Rome. + +LUCRETIA: +O, not to Rome! Indeed we are not guilty. _110 + +BEATRICE: +Guilty! Who dares talk of guilt? My Lord, +I am more innocent of parricide +Than is a child born fatherless...Dear mother, +Your gentleness and patience are no shield +For this keen-judging world, this two-edged lie, _115 +Which seems, but is not. What! will human laws, +Rather will ye who are their ministers, +Bar all access to retribution first, +And then, when Heaven doth interpose to do +What ye neglect, arming familiar things _120 +To the redress of an unwonted crime, +Make ye the victims who demanded it +Culprits? ’Tis ye are culprits! That poor wretch +Who stands so pale, and trembling, and amazed, +If it be true he murdered Cenci, was _125 +A sword in the right hand of justest God. +Wherefore should I have wielded it? Unless +The crimes which mortal tongue dare never name +God therefore scruples to avenge. + +SAVELLA: +You own +That you desired his death? + +BEATRICE: +It would have been _130 +A crime no less than his, if for one moment +That fierce desire had faded in my heart. +’Tis true I did believe, and hope, and pray, +Ay, I even knew...for God is wise and just, +That some strange sudden death hung over him. _135 +’Tis true that this did happen, and most true +There was no other rest for me on earth, +No other hope in Heaven...now what of this? + +SAVELLA: +Strange thoughts beget strange deeds; and here are both: +I judge thee not. + +BEATRICE: +And yet, if you arrest me, _140 +You are the judge and executioner +Of that which is the life of life: the breath +Of accusation kills an innocent name, +And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life +Which is a mask without it. ’Tis most false _145 +That I am guilty of foul parricide; +Although I must rejoice, for justest cause, +That other hands have sent my father’s soul +To ask the mercy he denied to me. +Now leave us free; stain not a noble house _150 +With vague surmises of rejected crime; +Add to our sufferings and your own neglect +No heavier sum: let them have been enough: +Leave us the wreck we have. + +SAVELLA: +I dare not, Lady. +I pray that you prepare yourselves for Rome: _155 +There the Pope’s further pleasure will be known. + +LUCRETIA: +O, not to Rome! O, take us not to Rome! + +BEATRICE: +Why not to Rome, dear mother? There as here +Our innocence is as an armed heel +To trample accusation. God is there _160 +As here, and with His shadow ever clothes +The innocent, the injured and the weak; +And such are we. Cheer up, dear Lady, lean +On me; collect your wandering thoughts. My Lord, +As soon as you have taken some refreshment, _165 +And had all such examinations made +Upon the spot, as may be necessary +To the full understanding of this matter, +We shall be ready. Mother; will you come? + +LUCRETIA: +Ha! they will bind us to the rack, and wrest _170 +Self-accusation from our agony! +Will Giacomo be there? Orsino? Marzio? +All present; all confronted; all demanding +Each from the other’s countenance the thing +Which is in every heart! O, misery! _175 + +[SHE FAINTS, AND IS BORNE OUT.] + +SAVELLA: +She faints: an ill appearance this. + +BEATRICE: +My Lord, +She knows not yet the uses of the world. +She fears that power is as a beast which grasps +And loosens not: a snake whose look transmutes +All things to guilt which is its nutriment. _180 +She cannot know how well the supine slaves +Of blind authority read the truth of things +When written on a brow of guilelessness: +She sees not yet triumphant Innocence +Stand at the judgement-seat of mortal man, _185 +A judge and an accuser of the wrong +Which drags it there. Prepare yourself, my Lord; +Our suite will join yours in the court below. + +[EXEUNT.] + +END OF ACT 4. + + +ACT 5. + +SCENE 5.1: +AN APARTMENT IN ORSINO’S PALACE. +ENTER ORSINO AND GIACOMO. + +GIACOMO: +Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end? +O, that the vain remorse which must chastise +Crimes done, had but as loud a voice to warn +As its keen sting is mortal to avenge! +O, that the hour when present had cast off _5 +The mantle of its mystery, and shown +The ghastly form with which it now returns +When its scared game is roused, cheering the hounds +Of conscience to their prey! Alas! Alas! +It was a wicked thought, a piteous deed, _10 +To kill an old and hoary-headed father. + +ORSINO: +It has turned out unluckily, in truth. + +GIACOMO: +To violate the sacred doors of sleep; +To cheat kind Nature of the placid death +Which she prepares for overwearied age; _15 +To drag from Heaven an unrepentant soul +Which might have quenched in reconciling prayers +A life of burning crimes... + +ORSINO: +You cannot say +I urged you to the deed. + +GIACOMO: +O, had I never +Found in thy smooth and ready countenance _20 +The mirror of my darkest thoughts; hadst thou +Never with hints and questions made me look +Upon the monster of my thought, until +It grew familiar to desire... + +ORSINO: +’Tis thus +Men cast the blame of their unprosperous acts _25 +Upon the abettors of their own resolve; +Or anything but their weak, guilty selves. +And yet, confess the truth, it is the peril +In which you stand that gives you this pale sickness +Of penitence; confess ’tis fear disguised _30 +From its own shame that takes the mantle now +Of thin remorse. What if we yet were safe? + +GIACOMO: +How can that be? Already Beatrice, +Lucretia and the murderer are in prison. +I doubt not officers are, whilst we speak, _35 +Sent to arrest us. + +ORSINO: +I have all prepared +For instant flight. We can escape even now, +So we take fleet occasion by the hair. + +GIACOMO: +Rather expire in tortures, as I may. +What! will you cast by self-accusing flight _40 +Assured conviction upon Beatrice? +She, who alone in this unnatural work, +Stands like God’s angel ministered upon +By fiends; avenging such a nameless wrong +As turns black parricide to piety; _45 +Whilst we for basest ends...I fear, Orsino, +While I consider all your words and looks, +Comparing them with your proposal now, +That you must be a villain. For what end +Could you engage in such a perilous crime, _50 +Training me on with hints, and signs, and smiles, +Even to this gulf? Thou art no liar? No, +Thou art a lie! Traitor and murderer! +Coward and slave! But no, defend thyself; +[DRAWING.] +Let the sword speak what the indignant tongue _55 +Disdains to brand thee with. + +ORSINO: +Put up your weapon. +Is it the desperation of your fear +Makes you thus rash and sudden with a friend, +Now ruined for your sake? If honest anger +Have moved you, know, that what I just proposed _60 +Was but to try you. As for me, I think, +Thankless affection led me to this point, +From which, if my firm temper could repent, +I cannot now recede. Even whilst we speak +The ministers of justice wait below: _65 +They grant me these brief moments. Now if you +Have any word of melancholy comfort +To speak to your pale wife, ’twere best to pass +Out at the postern, and avoid them so. + +NOTE: +_58 a friend edition 1821; your friend edition 1839. + +GIACOMO: +O, generous friend! How canst thou pardon me? _70 +Would that my life could purchase thine! + +ORSINO: +That wish +Now comes a day too late. Haste; fare thee well! +Hear’st thou not steps along the corridor? +[EXIT GIACOMO.] +I’m sorry for it; but the guards are waiting +At his own gate, and such was my contrivance _75 +That I might rid me both of him and them. +I thought to act a solemn comedy +Upon the painted scene of this new world, +And to attain my own peculiar ends +By some such plot of mingled good and ill _80 +As others weave; but there arose a Power +Which grasped and snapped the threads of my device +And turned it to a net of ruin...Ha! +[A SHOUT IS HEARD.] +Is that my name I hear proclaimed abroad? +But I will pass, wrapped in a vile disguise; _85 +Rags on my back, and a false innocence +Upon my face, through the misdeeming crowd +Which judges by what seems. ’Tis easy then +For a new name and for a country new, +And a new life, fashioned on old desires, _90 +To change the honours of abandoned Rome. +And these must be the masks of that within, +Which must remain unaltered...Oh, I fear +That what is past will never let me rest! +Why, when none else is conscious, but myself, _95 +Of my misdeeds, should my own heart’s contempt +Trouble me? Have I not the power to fly +My own reproaches? Shall I be the slave +Of...what? A word? which those of this false world +Employ against each other, not themselves; _100 +As men wear daggers not for self-offence. +But if I am mistaken, where shall I +Find the disguise to hide me from myself, +As now I skulk from every other eye? + +[EXIT.] + +SCENE 5.2: +A HALL OF JUSTICE. +CAMILLO, JUDGES, ETC., ARE DISCOVERED SEATED; +MARZIO IS LED IN. + +FIRST JUDGE: +Accused, do you persist in your denial? +I ask you, are you innocent, or guilty? +I demand who were the participators +In your offence? Speak truth, and the whole truth. + +MARZIO: +My God! I did not kill him; I know nothing; _5 +Olimpio sold the robe to me from which +You would infer my guilt. + +SECOND JUDGE: +Away with him! + +FIRST JUDGE: +Dare you, with lips yet white from the rack’s kiss +Speak false? Is it so soft a questioner, +That you would bandy lover’s talk with it _10 +Till it wind out your life and soul? Away! + +MARZIO: +Spare me! O, spare! I will confess. + +FIRST JUDGE: +Then speak. + +MARZIO: +I strangled him in his sleep. + +FIRST JUDGE: +Who urged you to it? + +MARZIO: +His own son Giacomo, and the young prelate +Orsino sent me to Petrella; there _15 +The ladies Beatrice and Lucretia +Tempted me with a thousand crowns, and I +And my companion forthwith murdered him. +Now let me die. + +FIRST JUDGE: +This sounds as bad as truth. Guards, there, +Lead forth the prisoner! +[ENTER LUCRETIA, BEATRICE AND GIACOMO, GUARDED.] +Look upon this man; _20 +When did you see him last? + +BEATRICE: +We never saw him. + +MARZIO: +You know me too well, Lady Beatrice. + +BEATRICE: +I know thee! How? where? when? + +MARZIO: +You know ’twas I +Whom you did urge with menaces and bribes +To kill your father. When the thing was done _25 +You clothed me in a robe of woven gold +And bade me thrive: how I have thriven, you see. +You, my Lord Giacomo, Lady Lucretia, +You know that what I speak is true. +[BEATRICE ADVANCES TOWARDS HIM; +HE COVERS HIS FACE, AND SHRINKS BACK.] +Oh, dart +The terrible resentment of those eyes _30 +On the dead earth! Turn them away from me! +They wound: ’twas torture forced the truth. My Lords, +Having said this let me be led to death. + +BEATRICE: +Poor wretch, I pity thee: yet stay awhile. + +CAMILLO: +Guards, lead him not away. + +BEATRICE: +Cardinal Camillo, _35 +You have a good repute for gentleness +And wisdom: can it be that you sit here +To countenance a wicked farce like this? +When some obscure and trembling slave is dragged +From sufferings which might shake the sternest heart _40 +And bade to answer, not as he believes, +But as those may suspect or do desire +Whose questions thence suggest their own reply: +And that in peril of such hideous torments +As merciful God spares even the damned. Speak now _45 +The thing you surely know, which is that you, +If your fine frame were stretched upon that wheel, +And you were told: ‘Confess that you did poison +Your little nephew; that fair blue-eyed child +Who was the lodestar of your life:’—and though _50 +All see, since his most swift and piteous death, +That day and night, and heaven and earth, and time, +And all the things hoped for or done therein +Are changed to you, through your exceeding grief, +Yet you would say, ‘I confess anything:’ _55 +And beg from your tormentors, like that slave, +The refuge of dishonourable death. +I pray thee, Cardinal, that thou assert +My innocence. + +CAMILLO [MUCH MOVED]: +What shall we think, my Lords? +Shame on these tears! I thought the heart was frozen _60 +Which is their fountain. I would pledge my soul +That she is guiltless. + +JUDGE: +Yet she must be tortured. + +CAMILLO: +I would as soon have tortured mine own nephew +(If he now lived he would be just her age; +His hair, too, was her colour, and his eyes _65 +Like hers in shape, but blue and not so deep) +As that most perfect image of God’s love +That ever came sorrowing upon the earth. +She is as pure as speechless infancy! + +JUDGE: +Well, be her purity on your head, my Lord, _70 +If you forbid the rack. His Holiness +Enjoined us to pursue this monstrous crime +By the severest forms of law; nay even +To stretch a point against the criminals. +The prisoners stand accused of parricide _75 +Upon such evidence as justifies +Torture. + +BEATRICE: +What evidence? This man’s? + +JUDGE: +Even so. + +BEATRICE [TO MARZIO]: +Come near. And who art thou thus chosen forth +Out of the multitude of living men +To kill the innocent? + +MARZIO: +I am Marzio, _80 +Thy father’s vassal. + +BEATRICE: +Fix thine eyes on mine; +Answer to what I ask. +[TURNING TO THE JUDGES.] +I prithee mark +His countenance: unlike bold calumny +Which sometimes dares not speak the thing it looks, +He dares not look the thing he speaks, but bends _85 +His gaze on the blind earth. +[TO MARZIO.] +What! wilt thou say +That I did murder my own father? + +MARZIO: +Oh! +Spare me! My brain swims round...I cannot speak... +It was that horrid torture forced the truth. +Take me away! Let her not look on me! _90 +I am a guilty miserable wretch; +I have said all I know; now, let me die! + +BEATRICE: +My Lords, if by my nature I had been +So stern, as to have planned the crime alleged, +Which your suspicions dictate to this slave, _95 +And the rack makes him utter, do you think +I should have left this two-edged instrument +Of my misdeed; this man, this bloody knife +With my own name engraven on the heft, +Lying unsheathed amid a world of foes, _100 +For my own death? That with such horrible need +For deepest silence, I should have neglected +So trivial a precaution, as the making +His tomb the keeper of a secret written +On a thief’s memory? What is his poor life? _105 +What are a thousand lives? A parricide +Had trampled them like dust; and, see, he lives! +[TURNING TO MARZIO.] +And thou... + +MARZIO: +Oh, spare me! Speak to me no more! +That stern yet piteous look, those solemn tones, +Wound worse than torture. +[TO THE JUDGES.] +I have told it all; _110 +For pity’s sake lead me away to death. + +CAMILLO: +Guards, lead him nearer the Lady Beatrice; +He shrinks from her regard like autumn’s leaf +From the keen breath of the serenest north. + +BEATRICE: +O thou who tremblest on the giddy verge _115 +Of life and death, pause ere thou answerest me; +So mayst thou answer God with less dismay: +What evil have we done thee? I, alas! +Have lived but on this earth a few sad years, +And so my lot was ordered, that a father _120 +First turned the moments of awakening life +To drops, each poisoning youth’s sweet hope; and then +Stabbed with one blow my everlasting soul; +And my untainted fame; and even that peace +Which sleeps within the core of the heart’s heart; _125 +But the wound was not mortal; so my hate +Became the only worship I could lift +To our great father, who in pity and love, +Armed thee, as thou dost say, to cut him off; +And thus his wrong becomes my accusation; _130 +And art thou the accuser? If thou hopest +Mercy in heaven, show justice upon earth: +Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart. +If thou hast done murders, made thy life’s path +Over the trampled laws of God and man, _135 +Rush not before thy Judge, and say: ‘My maker, +I have done this and more; for there was one +Who was most pure and innocent on earth; +And because she endured what never any +Guilty or innocent endured before: _140 +Because her wrongs could not be told, not thought; +Because thy hand at length did rescue her; +I with my words killed her and all her kin.’ +Think, I adjure you, what it is to slay +The reverence living in the minds of men _145 +Towards our ancient house, and stainless fame! +Think what it is to strangle infant pity, +Cradled in the belief of guileless looks, +Till it become a crime to suffer. Think +What ’tis to blot with infamy and blood _150 +All that which shows like innocence, and is, +Hear me, great God! I swear, most innocent, +So that the world lose all discrimination +Between the sly, fierce, wild regard of guilt, +And that which now compels thee to reply _155 +To what I ask: Am I, or am I not +A parricide? + +MARZIO: +Thou art not! + +JUDGE: +What is this? + +MARZIO: +I here declare those whom I did accuse +Are innocent. ’Tis I alone am guilty. + +JUDGE: +Drag him away to torments; let them be _160 +Subtle and long drawn out, to tear the folds +Of the heart’s inmost cell. Unbind him not +Till he confess. + +MARZIO: +Torture me as ye will: +A keener pang has wrung a higher truth +From my last breath. She is most innocent! _165 +Bloodhounds, not men, glut yourselves well with me; +I will not give you that fine piece of nature +To rend and ruin. + +NOTE: +_164 pang edition 1821; pain editions 1819, 1839. + +[EXIT MARZIO, GUARDED.] + +CAMILLO: +What say ye now, my Lords? + +JUDGE: +Let tortures strain the truth till it be white +As snow thrice sifted by the frozen wind. _170 + +CAMILLO: +Yet stained with blood. + +JUDGE [TO BEATRICE]: +Know you this paper, Lady? + +BEATRICE: +Entrap me not with questions. Who stands here +As my accuser? Ha! wilt thou be he, +Who art my judge? Accuser, witness, judge, +What, all in one? Here is Orsino’s name; _175 +Where is Orsino? Let his eye meet mine. +What means this scrawl? Alas! ye know not what, +And therefore on the chance that it may be +Some evil, will ye kill us? + +[ENTER AN OFFICER.] + +OFFICER: +Marzio’s dead. + +JUDGE: +What did he say? + +OFFICER: +Nothing. As soon as we _180 +Had bound him on the wheel, he smiled on us, +As one who baffles a deep adversary; +And holding his breath, died. + +JUDGE: +There remains nothing +But to apply the question to those prisoners, +Who yet remain stubborn. + +CAMILLO: +I overrule _185 +Further proceedings, and in the behalf +Of these most innocent and noble persons +Will use my interest with the Holy Father. + +JUDGE: +Let the Pope’s pleasure then be done. Meanwhile +Conduct these culprits each to separate cells; _190 +And be the engines ready; for this night +If the Pope’s resolution be as grave, +Pious, and just as once, I’ll wring the truth +Out of those nerves and sinews, groan by groan. + +[EXEUNT.] + +SCENE 5.3: +THE CELL OF A PRISON. +BEATRICE IS DISCOVERED ASLEEP ON A COUCH. +ENTER BERNARDO. + +BERNARDO: +How gently slumber rests upon her face, +Like the last thoughts of some day sweetly spent +Closing in night and dreams, and so prolonged. +After such torments as she bore last night, +How light and soft her breathing comes. Ay me! _5 +Methinks that I shall never sleep again. +But I must shake the heavenly dew of rest +From this sweet folded flower, thus...wake, awake! +What, sister, canst thou sleep? + +BEATRICE [AWAKING]: +I was just dreaming +That we were all in Paradise. Thou knowest _10 +This cell seems like a kind of Paradise +After our father’s presence. + +BERNARDO: +Dear, dear sister, +Would that thy dream were not a dream! O God! +How shall I tell? + +BEATRICE: +What wouldst thou tell, sweet brother? + +BERNARDO: +Look not so calm and happy, or even whilst _15 +I stand considering what I have to say +My heart will break. + +BEATRICE: +See now, thou mak’st me weep: +How very friendless thou wouldst be, dear child, +If I were dead. Say what thou hast to say. + +BERNARDO: +They have confessed; they could endure no more _20 +The tortures... + +BEATRICE: +Ha! What was there to confess? +They must have told some weak and wicked lie +To flatter their tormentors. Have they said +That they were guilty? O white innocence, +That thou shouldst wear the mask of guilt to hide _25 +Thine awful and serenest countenance +From those who know thee not! +[ENTER JUDGE WITH LUCRETIA AND GIACOMO, GUARDED.] +Ignoble hearts! +For some brief spasms of pain, which are at least +As mortal as the limbs through which they pass, +Are centuries of high splendour laid in dust? _30 +And that eternal honour which should live +Sunlike, above the reek of mortal fame, +Changed to a mockery and a byword? What! +Will you give up these bodies to be dragged +At horses’ heels, so that our hair should sweep _35 +The footsteps of the vain and senseless crowd, +Who, that they may make our calamity +Their worship and their spectacle, will leave +The churches and the theatres as void +As their own hearts? Shall the light multitude _40 +Fling, at their choice, curses or faded pity, +Sad funeral flowers to deck a living corpse, +Upon us as we pass to pass away, +And leave...what memory of our having been? +Infamy, blood, terror, despair? O thou, _45 +Who wert a mother to the parentless, +Kill not thy child! Let not her wrongs kill thee! +Brother, lie down with me upon the rack, +And let us each be silent as a corpse; +It soon will be as soft as any grave. _50 +’Tis but the falsehood it can wring from fear +Makes the rack cruel. + +GIACOMO: +They will tear the truth +Even from thee at last, those cruel pains: +For pity’s sake say thou art guilty now. + +LUCRETIA: +Oh, speak the truth! Let us all quickly die; _55 +And after death, God is our judge, not they; +He will have mercy on us. + +BERNARDO: +If indeed +It can be true, say so, dear sister mine; +And then the Pope will surely pardon you, +And all be well. + +JUDGE: +Confess, or I will warp _60 +Your limbs with such keen tortures... + +BEATRICE: +Tortures! Turn +The rack henceforth into a spinning-wheel! +Torture your dog, that he may tell when last +He lapped the blood his master shed...not me! +My pangs are of the mind, and of the heart, _65 +And of the soul; ay, of the inmost soul, +Which weeps within tears as of burning gall +To see, in this ill world where none are true, +My kindred false to their deserted selves. +And with considering all the wretched life _70 +Which I have lived, and its now wretched end, +And the small justice shown by Heaven and Earth +To me or mine; and what a tyrant thou art, +And what slaves these; and what a world we make, +The oppressor and the oppressed...such pangs compel _75 +My answer. What is it thou wouldst with me? + +JUDGE: +Art thou not guilty of thy father’s death? + +BEATRICE: +Or wilt thou rather tax high-judging God +That He permitted such an act as that +Which I have suffered, and which He beheld; _80 +Made it unutterable, and took from it +All refuge, all revenge, all consequence, +But that which thou hast called my father’s death? +Which is or is not what men call a crime, +Which either I have done, or have not done; _85 +Say what ye will. I shall deny no more. +If ye desire it thus, thus let it be, +And so an end of all. Now do your will; +No other pains shall force another word. + +JUDGE: +She is convicted, but has not confessed. _90 +Be it enough. Until their final sentence +Let none have converse with them. You, young Lord, +Linger not here! + +BEATRICE: +Oh, tear him not away! + +JUDGE: +Guards! do your duty. + +BERNARDO [EMBRACING BEATRICE]: +Oh! would ye divide +Body from soul? + +OFFICER: +That is the headsman’s business. _95 + +[EXEUNT ALL BUT LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, AND GIACOMO.] + +GIACOMO: +Have I confessed? Is it all over now? +No hope! No refuge! O weak, wicked tongue +Which hast destroyed me, would that thou hadst been +Cut out and thrown to dogs first! To have killed +My father first, and then betrayed my sister; _100 +Ay, thee! the one thing innocent and pure +In this black, guilty world, to that which I +So well deserve! My wife! my little ones! +Destitute, helpless, and I...Father! God! +Canst Thou forgive even the unforgiving, _105 +When their full hearts break thus, thus!... + +[COVERS HIS FACE AND WEEPS.] + +LUCRETIA: +O my child! +To what a dreadful end are we all come! +Why did I yield? Why did I not sustain +Those torments? Oh, that I were all dissolved +Into these fast and unavailing tears, _110 +Which flow and feel not! + +BEATRICE: +What ’twas weak to do, +’Tis weaker to lament, once being done; +Take cheer! The God who knew my wrong, and made +Our speedy act the angel of His wrath, +Seems, and but seems, to have abandoned us. _115 +Let us not think that we shall die for this. +Brother, sit near me; give me your firm hand, +You had a manly heart. Bear up! Bear up! +O dearest Lady, put your gentle head +Upon my lap, and try to sleep awhile: _120 +Your eyes look pale, hollow, and overworn, +With heaviness of watching and slow grief. +Come, I will sing you some low, sleepy tune, +Not cheerful, nor yet sad; some dull old thing, +Some outworn and unused monotony, _125 +Such as our country gossips sing and spin, +Till they almost forget they live: lie down! +So, that will do. Have I forgot the words? +Faith! They are sadder than I thought they were. + +SONG: +False friend, wilt thou smile or weep _130 +When my life is laid asleep? +Little cares for a smile or a tear, +The clay-cold corpse upon the bier! +Farewell! Heighho! +What is this whispers low? _135 +There is a snake in thy smile, my dear; +And bitter poison within thy tear. + +Sweet sleep, were death like to thee, +Or if thou couldst mortal be, +I would close these eyes of pain; _140 +When to wake? Never again. +O World! Farewell! +Listen to the passing bell! +It says, thou and I must part, +With a light and a heavy heart. _145 + +[THE SCENE CLOSES.] + +SCENE 5.4: +A HALL OF THE PRISON. +ENTER CAMILLO AND BERNARDO. + +CAMILLO: +The Pope is stern; not to be moved or bent. +He looked as calm and keen as is the engine +Which tortures and which kills, exempt itself +From aught that it inflicts; a marble form, +A rite, a law, a custom: not a man. _5 +He frowned, as if to frown had been the trick +Of his machinery, on the advocates +Presenting the defences, which he tore +And threw behind, muttering with hoarse, harsh voice: +‘Which among ye defended their old father _10 +Killed in his sleep?’ Then to another: ‘Thou +Dost this in virtue of thy place; ’tis well.’ +He turned to me then, looking deprecation, +And said these three words, coldly: ‘They must die.’ + +BERNARDO: +And yet you left him not? + +CAMILLO: +I urged him still; _15 +Pleading, as I could guess, the devilish wrong +Which prompted your unnatural parent’s death. +And he replied: ‘Paolo Santa Croce +Murdered his mother yester evening, +And he is fled. Parricide grows so rife _20 +That soon, for some just cause no doubt, the young +Will strangle us all, dozing in our chairs. +Authority, and power, and hoary hair +Are grown crimes capital. You are my nephew, +You come to ask their pardon; stay a moment; _25 +Here is their sentence; never see me more +Till, to the letter, it be all fulfilled.’ + +BERNARDO: +O God, not so! I did believe indeed +That all you said was but sad preparation +For happy news. Oh, there are words and looks _30 +To bend the sternest purpose! Once I knew them, +Now I forget them at my dearest need. +What think you if I seek him out, and bathe +His feet and robe with hot and bitter tears? +Importune him with prayers, vexing his brain _35 +With my perpetual cries, until in rage +He strike me with his pastoral cross, and trample +Upon my prostrate head, so that my blood +May stain the senseless dust on which he treads, +And remorse waken mercy? I will do it! _40 +Oh, wait till I return! + +[RUSHES OUT.] + +CAMILLO: +Alas, poor boy! +A wreck-devoted seaman thus might pray +To the deaf sea. + +[ENTER LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, AND GIACOMO, GUARDED.] + +BEATRICE: +I hardly dare to fear +That thou bring’st other news than a just pardon. + +CAMILLO: +May God in heaven be less inexorable _45 +To the Pope’s prayers than he has been to mine. +Here is the sentence and the warrant. + +BEATRICE [WILDLY]: +O +My God! Can it be possible I have +To die so suddenly? So young to go +Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground! _50 +To be nailed down into a narrow place; +To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more +Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again +Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost— +How fearful! to be nothing! Or to be... _55 +What? Oh, where am I? Let me not go mad! +Sweet Heaven, forgive weak thoughts! If there should be +No God, no Heaven, no Earth in the void world; +The wide, gray, lampless, deep, unpeopled world! +If all things then should be...my father’s spirit, _60 +His eye, his voice, his touch surrounding me; +The atmosphere and breath of my dead life! +If sometimes, as a shape more like himself, +Even the form which tortured me on earth, +Masked in gray hairs and wrinkles, he should come _65 +And wind me in his hellish arms, and fix +His eyes on mine, and drag me down, down, down! +For was he not alone omnipotent +On Earth, and ever present? Even though dead, +Does not his spirit live in all that breathe, _70 +And work for me and mine still the same ruin, +Scorn, pain, despair? Who ever yet returned +To teach the laws of Death’s untrodden realm? +Unjust perhaps as those which drive us now, +Oh, whither, whither? + +LUCRETIA: +Trust in God’s sweet love, _75 +The tender promises of Christ: ere night, +Think, we shall be in Paradise. + +BEATRICE: +’Tis past! +Whatever comes, my heart shall sink no more. +And yet, I know not why, your words strike chill: +How tedious, false, and cold seem all things. I _80 +Have met with much injustice in this world; +No difference has been made by God or man, +Or any power moulding my wretched lot, +’Twixt good or evil, as regarded me. +I am cut off from the only world I know, _85 +From light, and life, and love, in youth’s sweet prime. +You do well telling me to trust in God; +I hope I do trust in him. In whom else +Can any trust? And yet my heart is cold. + +[DURING THE LATTER SPEECHES GIACOMO HAS RETIRED CONVERSING WITH +CAMILLO, WHO NOW GOES OUT; +GIACOMO ADVANCES.] + +GIACOMO: +Know you not, Mother...Sister, know you not? _90 +Bernardo even now is gone to implore +The Pope to grant our pardon. + +LUCRETIA: +Child, perhaps +It will be granted. We may all then live +To make these woes a tale for distant years: +Oh, what a thought! It gushes to my heart _95 +Like the warm blood. + +BEATRICE: +Yet both will soon be cold. +Oh, trample out that thought! Worse than despair, +Worse than the bitterness of death, is hope: +It is the only ill which can find place +Upon the giddy, sharp, and narrow hour _100 +Tottering beneath us. Plead with the swift frost +That it should spare the eldest flower of spring: +Plead with awakening earthquake, o’er whose couch +Even now a city stands, strong, fair, and free; +Now stench and blackness yawn, like death. Oh, plead _105 +With famine, or wind-walking Pestilence, +Blind lightning, or the deaf sea, not with man! +Cruel, cold, formal man; righteous in words, +In deeds a Cain. No, Mother, we must die: +Since such is the reward of innocent lives; _110 +Such the alleviation of worst wrongs. +And whilst our murderers live, and hard, cold men, +Smiling and slow, walk through a world of tears +To death as to life’s sleep; ’twere just the grave +Were some strange joy for us. Come, obscure Death, _115 +And wind me in thine all-embracing arms! +Like a fond mother hide me in thy bosom, +And rock me to the sleep from which none wake. +Live ye, who live, subject to one another +As we were once, who now... + +NOTE: +_105 yawn edition 1821; yawns editions 1819, 1839. + +[BERNARDO RUSHES IN.] + +BERNARDO: +Oh, horrible! _120 +That tears, that looks, that hope poured forth in prayer, +Even till the heart is vacant and despairs, +Should all be vain! The ministers of death +Are waiting round the doors. I thought I saw +Blood on the face of one...What if ’twere fancy? _125 +Soon the heart’s blood of all I love on earth +Will sprinkle him, and he will wipe it off +As if ’twere only rain. O life! O world! +Cover me! let me be no more! To see +That perfect mirror of pure innocence _130 +Wherein I gazed, and grew happy and good, +Shivered to dust! To see thee, Beatrice, +Who made all lovely thou didst look upon... +Thee, light of life ... dead, dark! while I say, sister, +To hear I have no sister; and thou, Mother, _135 +Whose love was as a bond to all our loves... +Dead! The sweet bond broken! +[ENTER CAMILLO AND GUARDS.] +They come! Let me +Kiss those warm lips before their crimson leaves +Are blighted...white...cold. Say farewell, before +Death chokes that gentle voice! Oh, let me hear _140 +You speak! + +NOTE: +_136 was as a Rossetti cj.; was a editions 1819, 1821, 1839. + + +BEATRICE: +Farewell, my tender brother. Think +Of our sad fate with gentleness, as now: +And let mild, pitying thoughts lighten for thee +Thy sorrow’s load. Err not in harsh despair, +But tears and patience. One thing more, my child: _145 +For thine own sake be constant to the love +Thou bearest us; and to the faith that I, +Though wrapped in a strange cloud of crime and shame, +Lived ever holy and unstained. And though +Ill tongues shall wound me, and our common name _150 +Be as a mark stamped on thine innocent brow +For men to point at as they pass, do thou +Forbear, and never think a thought unkind +Of those, who perhaps love thee in their graves. +So mayest thou die as I do; fear and pain _155 +Being subdued. Farewell! Farewell! Farewell! + +BERNARDO: +I cannot say, farewell! + +CAMILLO: +Oh, Lady Beatrice! + +BEATRICE: +Give yourself no unnecessary pain, +My dear Lord Cardinal. Here, Mother, tie +My girdle for me, and bind up this hair _160 +In any simple knot; ay, that does well. +And yours I see is coming down. How often +Have we done this for one another; now +We shall not do it any more. My Lord, +We are quite ready. Well, ’tis very well. _165 + +THE END. + + +NOTE ON THE CENCI, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +The sort of mistake that Shelley made as to the extent of his own +genius and powers, which led him deviously at first, but lastly into +the direct track that enabled him fully to develop them, is a curious +instance of his modesty of feeling, and of the methods which the human +mind uses at once to deceive itself, and yet, in its very delusion, to +make its way out of error into the path which Nature has marked out as +its right one. He often incited me to attempt the writing a tragedy: +he conceived that I possessed some dramatic talent, and he was always +most earnest and energetic in his exhortations that I should cultivate +any talent I possessed, to the utmost. I entertained a truer estimate +of my powers; and above all (though at that time not exactly aware of +the fact) I was far too young to have any chance of succeeding, even +moderately, in a species of composition that requires a greater scope +of experience in, and sympathy with, human passion than could then +have fallen to my lot,—or than any perhaps, except Shelley, ever +possessed, even at the age of twenty-six, at which he wrote The Cenci. + +On the other hand, Shelley most erroneously conceived himself to be +destitute of this talent. He believed that one of the first requisites +was the capacity of forming and following-up a story or plot. He +fancied himself to be defective in this portion of imagination: it was +that which gave him least pleasure in the writings of others, though +he laid great store by it as the proper framework to support the +sublimest efforts of poetry. He asserted that he was too metaphysical +and abstract, too fond of the theoretical and the ideal, to succeed as +a tragedian. It perhaps is not strange that I shared this opinion with +himself; for he had hitherto shown no inclination for, nor given any +specimen of his powers in framing and supporting the interest of a +story, either in prose or verse. Once or twice, when he attempted +such, he had speedily thrown it aside, as being even disagreeable to +him as an occupation. + +The subject he had suggested for a tragedy was Charles I: and he had +written to me: ‘Remember, remember Charles I. I have been already +imagining how you would conduct some scenes. The second volume of “St. +Leon” begins with this proud and true sentiment: “There is nothing +which the human mind can conceive which it may not execute.” +Shakespeare was only a human being.’ These words were written in 1818, +while we were in Lombardy, when he little thought how soon a work of +his own would prove a proud comment on the passage he quoted. When in +Rome, in 1819, a friend put into our hands the old manuscript account +of the story of the Cenci. We visited the Colonna and Doria palaces, +where the portraits of Beatrice were to be found; and her beauty cast +the reflection of its own grace over her appalling story. Shelley’s +imagination became strongly excited, and he urged the subject to me as +one fitted for a tragedy. More than ever I felt my incompetence; but I +entreated him to write it instead; and he began, and proceeded +swiftly, urged on by intense sympathy with the sufferings of the human +beings whose passions, so long cold in the tomb, he revived, and +gifted with poetic language. This tragedy is the only one of his works +that he communicated to me during its progress. We talked over the +arrangement of the scenes together. I speedily saw the great mistake +we had made, and triumphed in the discovery of the new talent brought +to light from that mine of wealth (never, alas, through his untimely +death, worked to its depths)—his richly gifted mind. + +We suffered a severe affliction in Rome by the loss of our eldest +child, who was of such beauty and promise as to cause him deservedly +to be the idol of our hearts. We left the capital of the world, +anxious for a time to escape a spot associated too intimately with his +presence and loss. (Such feelings haunted him when, in “The Cenci”, he +makes Beatrice speak to Cardinal Camillo of + +‘that fair blue-eyed child +Who was the lodestar of your life:’—and say— +All see, since his most swift and piteous death, +That day and night, and heaven and earth, and time, +And all the things hoped for or done therein +Are changed to you, through your exceeding grief.’) + +Some friends of ours were residing in the neighbourhood of Leghorn, +and we took a small house, Villa Valsovano, about half-way between the +town and Monte Nero, where we remained during the summer. Our villa +was situated in the midst of a podere; the peasants sang as they +worked beneath our windows, during the heats of a very hot season, and +in the evening the water-wheel creaked as the process of irrigation +went on, and the fireflies flashed from among the myrtle hedges: +Nature was bright, sunshiny, and cheerful, or diversified by storms of +a majestic terror, such as we had never before witnessed. + +At the top of the house there was a sort of terrace. There is often +such in Italy, generally roofed: this one was very small, yet not only +roofed but glazed. This Shelley made his study; it looked out on a +wide prospect of fertile country, and commanded a view of the near +sea. The storms that sometimes varied our day showed themselves most +picturesquely as they were driven across the ocean; sometimes the dark +lurid clouds dipped towards the waves, and became water-spouts that +churned up the waters beneath, as they were chased onward and +scattered by the tempest. At other times the dazzling sunlight and +heat made it almost intolerable to every other; but Shelley basked in +both, and his health and spirits revived under their influence. In +this airy cell he wrote the principal part of “The Cenci”. He was +making a study of Calderon at the time, reading his best tragedies +with an accomplished lady living near us, to whom his letter from +Leghorn was addressed during the following year. He admired Calderon, +both for his poetry and his dramatic genius; but it shows his +judgement and originality that, though greatly struck by his first +acquaintance with the Spanish poet, none of his peculiarities crept +into the composition of “The Cenci”; and there is no trace of his new +studies, except in that passage to which he himself alludes as +suggested by one in “El Purgatorio de San Patricio”. + +Shelley wished “The Cenci” to be acted. He was not a playgoer, being +of such fastidious taste that he was easily disgusted by the bad +filling-up of the inferior parts. While preparing for our departure +from England, however, he saw Miss O’Neil several times. She was then +in the zenith of her glory; and Shelley was deeply moved by her +impersonation of several parts, and by the graceful sweetness, the +intense pathos, the sublime vehemence of passion she displayed. She +was often in his thoughts as he wrote: and, when he had finished, he +became anxious that his tragedy should be acted, and receive the +advantage of having this accomplished actress to fill the part of the +heroine. With this view he wrote the following letter to a friend in +London: + +‘The object of the present letter us to ask a favour of you. I have +written a tragedy on a story well known in Italy, and, in my +conception, eminently dramatic. I have taken some pains to make my +play fit for representation, and those who have already seen it judge +favourably. It is written without any of the peculiar feelings and +opinions which characterize my other compositions; I have attended +simply to the impartial development of such characters as it is +probable the persons represented really were, together with the +greatest degree of popular effect to be produced by such a +development. I send you a translation of the Italian manuscript on +which my play is founded; the chief circumstance of which I have +touched very delicately; for my principal doubt as to whether it would +succeed as an acting play hangs entirely on the question as to whether +any such a thing as incest in this shape, however treated, would be +admitted on the stage. I think, however, it will form no objection; +considering, first, that the facts are matter of history, and, +secondly, the peculiar delicacy with which I have treated it. (In +speaking of his mode of treating this main incident, Shelley said that +it might be remarked that, in the course of the play, he had never +mentioned expressly Cenci’s worst crime. Every one knew what it must +be, but it was never imaged in words—the nearest allusion to it being +that portion of Cenci’s curse beginning— + +“That, if she have a child,” etc.) + +‘I am exceedingly interested in the question of whether this attempt +of mine will succeed or not. I am strongly inclined to the affirmative +at present; founding my hopes on this—that, as a composition, it is +certainly not inferior to any of the modern plays that have been +acted, with the exception of “Remorse”; that the interest of the plot +is incredibly greater and more real; and that there is nothing beyond +what the multitude are contented to believe that they can understand, +either in imagery, opinion, or sentiment. I wish to preserve a +complete incognito, and can trust to you that, whatever else you do, +you will at least favour me on this point. Indeed, this is essential, +deeply essential, to its success. After it had been acted, and +successfully (could I hope for such a thing), I would own it if I +pleased, and use the celebrity it might acquire to my own purposes. + +‘What I want you to do is to procure for me its presentation at Covent +Garden. The principal character, Beatrice, is precisely fitted for +Miss O’Neil, and it might even seem to have been written for her (God +forbid that I should see her play it—it would tear my nerves to +pieces); and in all respects it is fitted only for Covent Garden. The +chief male character I confess I should be very unwilling that any one +but Kean should play. That is impossible, and I must be contented with +an inferior actor.’ + +The play was accordingly sent to Mr. Harris. He pronounced the subject +to be so objectionable that he could not even submit the part to Miss +O’Neil for perusal, but expressed his desire that the author would +write a tragedy on some other subject, which he would gladly accept. +Shelley printed a small edition at Leghorn, to ensure its correctness; +as he was much annoyed by the many mistakes that crept into his text +when distance prevented him from correcting the press. + +Universal approbation soon stamped “The Cenci” as the best tragedy of +modern times. Writing concerning it, Shelley said: ‘I have been +cautious to avoid the introducing faults of youthful composition; +diffuseness, a profusion of inapplicable imagery, vagueness, +generality, and, as Hamlet says, “words, words”.’ There is nothing +that is not purely dramatic throughout; and the character of Beatrice, +proceeding, from vehement struggle, to horror, to deadly resolution, +and lastly to the elevated dignity of calm suffering, joined to +passionate tenderness and pathos, is touched with hues so vivid and so +beautiful that the poet seems to have read intimately the secrets of +the noble heart imaged in the lovely countenance of the unfortunate +girl. The Fifth Act is a masterpiece. It is the finest thing he ever +wrote, and may claim proud comparison not only with any contemporary, +but preceding, poet. The varying feelings of Beatrice are expressed +with passionate, heart-reaching eloquence. Every character has a voice +that echoes truth in its tones. It is curious, to one acquainted with +the written story, to mark the success with which the poet has inwoven +the real incidents of the tragedy into his scenes, and yet, through +the power of poetry, has obliterated all that would otherwise have +shown too harsh or too hideous in the picture. His success was a +double triumph; and often after he was earnestly entreated to write +again in a style that commanded popular favour, while it was not less +instinct with truth and genius. But the bent of his mind went the +other way; and, even when employed on subjects whose interest depended +on character and incident, he would start off in another direction, +and leave the delineations of human passion, which he could depict in +so able a manner, for fantastic creations of his fancy, or the +expression of those opinions and sentiments, with regard to human +nature and its destiny, a desire to diffuse which was the master +passion of his soul. + +*** + + +THE MASK OF ANARCHY. + +WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF THE MASSACRE AT MANCHESTER. + +[Composed at the Villa Valsovano near Leghorn—or possibly later, +during Shelley’s sojourn at Florence—in the autumn of 1819, shortly +after the Peterloo riot at Manchester, August 16; edited with Preface +by Leigh Hunt, and published under the poet’s name by Edward Moxon, +1832 (Bradbury & Evans, printers). Two manuscripts are extant: a +transcript by Mrs. Shelley with Shelley’s autograph corrections, known +as the ‘Hunt manuscript’; and an earlier draft, not quite complete, in +the poet’s handwriting, presented by Mrs. Shelley to (Sir) John +Bowring in 1826, and now in the possession of Mr. Thomas J. Wise (the +‘Wise manuscript’). Mrs. Shelley’s copy was sent to Leigh Hunt in 1819 +with view to its publication in “The Examiner”; hence the name ‘Hunt +manuscript.’ A facsimile of the Wise manuscript was published by the +Shelley Society in 1887. Sources of the text are (1) the Hunt +manuscript; (2) the Wise manuscript; (3) the editio princeps, editor +Leigh Hunt, 1832; (4) Mrs. Shelley’s two editions (“Poetical Works”) +of 1839. Of the two manuscripts Mrs. Shelley’s transcript is the later +and more authoritative.] + +1. +As I lay asleep in Italy +There came a voice from over the Sea, +And with great power it forth led me +To walk in the visions of Poesy. + +2. +I met Murder on the way— _5 +He had a mask like Castlereagh— +Very smooth he looked, yet grim; +Seven blood-hounds followed him: + +3. +All were fat; and well they might +Be in admirable plight, _10 +For one by one, and two by two, +He tossed them human hearts to chew +Which from his wide cloak he drew. + +4. +Next came Fraud, and he had on, +Like Eldon, an ermined gown; _15 +His big tears, for he wept well, +Turned to mill-stones as they fell. + +5. +And the little children, who +Round his feet played to and fro, +Thinking every tear a gem, _20 +Had their brains knocked out by them. + +6. +Clothed with the Bible, as with light, +And the shadows of the night, +Like Sidmouth, next, Hypocrisy +On a crocodile rode by. _25 + +7. +And many more Destructions played +In this ghastly masquerade, +All disguised, even to the eyes, +Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies. + +8. +Last came Anarchy: he rode _30 +On a white horse, splashed with blood; +He was pale even to the lips, +Like Death in the Apocalypse. + +9. +And he wore a kingly crown; +And in his grasp a sceptre shone; _35 +On his brow this mark I saw— +‘I AM GOD, AND KING, AND LAW!’ + +10. +With a pace stately and fast, +Over English land he passed, +Trampling to a mire of blood _40 +The adoring multitude. + +11. +And a mighty troop around, +With their trampling shook the ground, +Waving each a bloody sword, +For the service of their Lord. _45 + +12. +And with glorious triumph, they +Rode through England proud and gay, +Drunk as with intoxication +Of the wine of desolation. + +13. +O’er fields and towns, from sea to sea, _50 +Passed the Pageant swift and free, +Tearing up, and trampling down; +Till they came to London town. + +14. +And each dweller, panic-stricken, +Felt his heart with terror sicken _55 +Hearing the tempestuous cry +Of the triumph of Anarchy. + +15. +For with pomp to meet him came, +Clothed in arms like blood and flame, +The hired murderers, who did sing _60 +‘Thou art God, and Law, and King. + +16. +‘We have waited, weak and lone +For thy coming, Mighty One! +Our purses are empty, our swords are cold, +Give us glory, and blood, and gold.’ _65 + +17. +Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd, +To the earth their pale brows bowed; +Like a bad prayer not over loud, +Whispering—‘Thou art Law and God.’— + +18. +Then all cried with one accord, _70 +‘Thou art King, and God, and Lord; +Anarchy, to thee we bow, +Be thy name made holy now!’ + +19. +And Anarchy, the Skeleton, +Bowed and grinned to every one, _75 +As well as if his education +Had cost ten millions to the nation. + +20. +For he knew the Palaces +Of our Kings were rightly his; +His the sceptre, crown, and globe, _80 +And the gold-inwoven robe. + +21. +So he sent his slaves before +To seize upon the Bank and Tower, +And was proceeding with intent +To meet his pensioned Parliament _85 + +22. +When one fled past, a maniac maid, +And her name was Hope, she said: +But she looked more like Despair, +And she cried out in the air: + +23. +‘My father Time is weak and gray _90 +With waiting for a better day; +See how idiot-like he stands, +Fumbling with his palsied hands! + +24. +‘He has had child after child, +And the dust of death is piled _95 +Over every one but me— +Misery, oh, Misery!’ + +25. +Then she lay down in the street, +Right before the horses’ feet, +Expecting, with a patient eye, _100 +Murder, Fraud, and Anarchy. + +26. +When between her and her foes +A mist, a light, an image rose, +Small at first, and weak, and frail +Like the vapour of a vale: _105 + +27. +Till as clouds grow on the blast, +Like tower-crowned giants striding fast, +And glare with lightnings as they fly, +And speak in thunder to the sky, + +28. +It grew—a Shape arrayed in mail _110 +Brighter than the viper’s scale, +And upborne on wings whose grain +Was as the light of sunny rain. + +29. +On its helm, seen far away, +A planet, like the Morning’s, lay; _115 +And those plumes its light rained through +Like a shower of crimson dew. + +30. +With step as soft as wind it passed +O’er the heads of men—so fast +That they knew the presence there, _120 +And looked,—but all was empty air. + +31. +As flowers beneath May’s footstep waken, +As stars from Night’s loose hair are shaken, +As waves arise when loud winds call, +Thoughts sprung where’er that step did fall. _125 + +32. +And the prostrate multitude +Looked—and ankle-deep in blood, +Hope, that maiden most serene, +Was walking with a quiet mien: + +33. +And Anarchy, the ghastly birth, _130 +Lay dead earth upon the earth; +The Horse of Death tameless as wind +Fled, and with his hoofs did grind +To dust the murderers thronged behind. + +34. +A rushing light of clouds and splendour, _135 +A sense awakening and yet tender +Was heard and felt—and at its close +These words of joy and fear arose + +35. +As if their own indignant Earth +Which gave the sons of England birth _140 +Had felt their blood upon her brow, +And shuddering with a mother’s throe + +36. +Had turned every drop of blood +By which her face had been bedewed +To an accent unwithstood,— _145 +As if her heart had cried aloud: + +37. +‘Men of England, heirs of Glory, +Heroes of unwritten story, +Nurslings of one mighty Mother, +Hopes of her, and one another; _150 + +38. +‘Rise like Lions after slumber +In unvanquishable number, +Shake your chains to earth like dew +Which in sleep had fallen on you— +Ye are many—they are few. _155 + +39. +‘What is Freedom?—ye can tell +That which slavery is, too well— +For its very name has grown +To an echo of your own. + +40. +‘’Tis to work and have such pay _160 +As just keeps life from day to day +In your limbs, as in a cell +For the tyrants’ use to dwell, + +41. +‘So that ye for them are made +Loom, and plough, and sword, and spade, _165 +With or without your own will bent +To their defence and nourishment. + +42. +‘’Tis to see your children weak +With their mothers pine and peak, +When the winter winds are bleak,— _170 +They are dying whilst I speak. + +43. +‘’Tis to hunger for such diet +As the rich man in his riot +Casts to the fat dogs that lie +Surfeiting beneath his eye; _175 + +44. +‘’Tis to let the Ghost of Gold +Take from Toil a thousandfold +More than e’er its substance could +In the tyrannies of old. + +45. +‘Paper coin—that forgery _180 +Of the title-deeds, which ye +Hold to something of the worth +Of the inheritance of Earth. + +46. +‘’Tis to be a slave in soul +And to hold no strong control _185 +Over your own wills, but be +All that others make of ye. + +47. +‘And at length when ye complain +With a murmur weak and vain +’Tis to see the Tyrant’s crew _190 +Ride over your wives and you +Blood is on the grass like dew. + +48. +‘Then it is to feel revenge +Fiercely thirsting to exchange +Blood for blood—and wrong for wrong— _195 +Do not thus when ye are strong. + +49. +‘Birds find rest, in narrow nest +When weary of their winged quest; +Beasts find fare, in woody lair +When storm and snow are in the air. _200 + +50. +‘Asses, swine, have litter spread +And with fitting food are fed; +All things have a home but one— +Thou, Oh, Englishman, hast none! + +51. +‘This is Slavery—savage men, _205 +Or wild beasts within a den +Would endure not as ye do— +But such ills they never knew. + +52. +‘What art thou Freedom? O! could slaves +Answer from their living graves _210 +This demand—tyrants would flee +Like a dream’s dim imagery: + +53. +‘Thou art not, as impostors say, +A shadow soon to pass away, +A superstition, and a name _215 +Echoing from the cave of Fame. + +54. +‘For the labourer thou art bread, +And a comely table spread +From his daily labour come +In a neat and happy home. _220 + +55. +Thou art clothes, and fire, and food +For the trampled multitude— +No—in countries that are free +Such starvation cannot be +As in England now we see. _225 + +56. +‘To the rich thou art a check, +When his foot is on the neck +Of his victim, thou dost make +That he treads upon a snake. + +57. +Thou art Justice—ne’er for gold _230 +May thy righteous laws be sold +As laws are in England—thou +Shield’st alike the high and low. + +58. +‘Thou art Wisdom—Freemen never +Dream that God will damn for ever _235 +All who think those things untrue +Of which Priests make such ado. + +59. +‘Thou art Peace—never by thee +Would blood and treasure wasted be +As tyrants wasted them, when all _240 +Leagued to quench thy flame in Gaul. + +60. +‘What if English toil and blood +Was poured forth, even as a flood? +It availed, Oh, Liberty, +To dim, but not extinguish thee. _245 + +61. +‘Thou art Love—the rich have kissed +Thy feet, and like him following Christ, +Give their substance to the free +And through the rough world follow thee, + +62. +‘Or turn their wealth to arms, and make _250 +War for thy beloved sake +On wealth, and war, and fraud—whence they +Drew the power which is their prey. + +63. +‘Science, Poetry, and Thought +Are thy lamps; they make the lot _255 +Of the dwellers in a cot +So serene, they curse it not. + +64. +‘Spirit, Patience, Gentleness, +All that can adorn and bless +Art thou—let deeds, not words, express _260 +Thine exceeding loveliness. + +65. +‘Let a great Assembly be +Of the fearless and the free +On some spot of English ground +Where the plains stretch wide around. _265 + +66. +‘Let the blue sky overhead, +The green earth on which ye tread, +All that must eternal be +Witness the solemnity. + +67. +‘From the corners uttermost _270 +Of the bounds of English coast; +From every hut, village, and town +Where those who live and suffer moan +For others’ misery or their own, + +68. +‘From the workhouse and the prison +Where pale as corpses newly risen, +Women, children, young and old _277 +Groan for pain, and weep for cold— + +69. +‘From the haunts of daily life +Where is waged the daily strife _280 +With common wants and common cares +Which sows the human heart with tares— + +70. +‘Lastly from the palaces +Where the murmur of distress +Echoes, like the distant sound _285 +Of a wind alive around + +71. +‘Those prison halls of wealth and fashion, +Where some few feel such compassion +For those who groan, and toil, and wail +As must make their brethren pale— + +72. +‘Ye who suffer woes untold, _291 +Or to feel, or to behold +Your lost country bought and sold +With a price of blood and gold— + +73. +‘Let a vast assembly be, _295 +And with great solemnity +Declare with measured words that ye +Are, as God has made ye, free— + +74. +‘Be your strong and simple words +Keen to wound as sharpened swords, _300 +And wide as targes let them be, +With their shade to cover ye. + +75. +‘Let the tyrants pour around +With a quick and startling sound, +Like the loosening of a sea, _305 +Troops of armed emblazonry. + +76. +‘Let the charged artillery drive +Till the dead air seems alive +With the clash of clanging wheels, +And the tramp of horses’ heels. _310 + +77. +‘Let the fixed bayonet +Gleam with sharp desire to wet +Its bright point in English blood +Looking keen as one for food. + +78. +Let the horsemen’s scimitars _315 +Wheel and flash, like sphereless stars +Thirsting to eclipse their burning +In a sea of death and mourning. + +79. +‘Stand ye calm and resolute, +Like a forest close and mute, _320 +With folded arms and looks which are +Weapons of unvanquished war, + +80. +‘And let Panic, who outspeeds +The career of armed steeds +Pass, a disregarded shade _325 +Through your phalanx undismayed. + +81. +‘Let the laws of your own land, +Good or ill, between ye stand +Hand to hand, and foot to foot, +Arbiters of the dispute, _330 + +82. +‘The old laws of England—they +Whose reverend heads with age are gray, +Children of a wiser day; +And whose solemn voice must be +Thine own echo—Liberty! _335 + +83. +‘On those who first should violate +Such sacred heralds in their state +Rest the blood that must ensue, +And it will not rest on you. + +84. +‘And if then the tyrants dare _340 +Let them ride among you there, +Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew,— +What they like, that let them do. + +85. +‘With folded arms and steady eyes, +And little fear, and less surprise, _345 +Look upon them as they slay +Till their rage has died away. + +86. +Then they will return with shame +To the place from which they came, +And the blood thus shed will speak _350 +In hot blushes on their cheek. + +87. +‘Every woman in the land +Will point at them as they stand— +They will hardly dare to greet +Their acquaintance in the street. _355 + +88. +‘And the bold, true warriors +Who have hugged Danger in wars +Will turn to those who would be free, +Ashamed of such base company. + +89. +‘And that slaughter to the Nation _360 +Shall steam up like inspiration, +Eloquent, oracular; +A volcano heard afar. + +90. +‘And these words shall then become +Like Oppression’s thundered doom _365 +Ringing through each heart and brain, +Heard again—again—again— + +91. +‘Rise like Lions after slumber +In unvanquishable number— +Shake your chains to earth like dew _370 +Which in sleep had fallen on you— +Ye are many—they are few.’ + +NOTES: +_15. Like Eldon Hunt manuscript; Like Lord Eldon Wise manuscript. +_15. ermined Hunt manuscript, Wise manuscript edition 1832; + ermine editions 1839. +_23 shadows]shadow editions 1839 only. +_29 or]and Wise manuscript only. +_35 And in his grasp Hunt manuscript, edition 1882; + In his hand Wise manuscript, + Hunt manuscript cancelled, edition 1839. +_36 On his]And on his edition 1832 only. +_51 the Hunt manuscript, edition 1832; that Wise manuscript. +_56 tempestuous]tremendous editions 1839 only. +_58 For with pomp]For from... Hunt manuscript, Wise manuscript. +_71 God]Law editions 1839 only. +_79 rightly Wise manuscript; nightly Hunt manuscript, editions 1832, 1839. +_93 Fumbling] Trembling editions 1839 only. +_105 a vale Hunt manuscript, Wise manuscript; the vale editions 1832, 1839. +_113 as]like editions 1839 only. +_116 its Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript; it editions 1832, 1839. +_121 but Wise MS; and Hunt manuscript, editions 1832, 1839. +_122 May’s footstep Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript; + the footstep edition 1832; May’s footsteps editions 1839. +_132-4 omit Wise manuscript. +_146 had cried Hunt manuscript, editions 1832, 1839; + cried out Wise manuscript. +_155 omit edition 1832 only. +_182 of]from Wise manuscript only. +_186 wills Hunt manuscript, editions 1832, 1839; will Wise manuscript. +_198 their Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript, editions 1839; + the edition 1832. +_216 cave Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript, editions 1839; + caves edition 1832, Hunt manuscript cancelled. +_220 In Wise manuscript, editions 1832, 1839; To Hunt manuscript. + +(Note at stanza 49: The following stanza is found in the Wise +manuscript and in editions 1839, but is wanting in the Hunt manuscript +and in edition 1832:— + +‘Horses, oxen, have a home, +When from daily toil they come; +Household dogs, when the wind roars, +Find a home within warm doors.’) + +_233 the Hunt manuscript, editions 1832, 1839; both Wise manuscript. +_234 Freemen Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript, editions 1839; + Freedom edition 1832. +_235 Dream Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript, editions 1839; + Dreams edition 1832. damn]doom editions 1839 only. +_248 Give Hunt manuscript, edition 1832; + Given Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript cancelled, editions 1839. +_249 follow]followed editions 1839 only. +_250 Or Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript; Oh editions 1832, 1839. +_254 Science, Poetry, Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript; + Science, and Poetry editions 1832, 1839. +_257 So Hunt manuscript, edition 1832; + Such they curse their Maker not Wise manuscript, editions 1839. +_263 and]of edition 1832 only. +_274 or]and edition 1832 only. + +(Note to end of stanza 67: The following stanza is found (cancelled) +at this place in the Wise manuscript:— + +‘From the cities where from caves, +Like the dead from putrid graves, +Troops of starvelings gliding come, +Living Tenants of a tomb.’ + +_282 sows Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript; + sow editions 1832, 1839. +_297 measured Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript, edition 1832; + ne’er-said editions 1839. +_322 of unvanquished Wise manuscript; + of an unvanquished Hunt manuscript, editions 1832, 1839. +_346 slay Wise manuscript; Hunt manuscript, editions 1839; + stay edition 1832. +_357 in wars Wise manuscript, Hunt manuscript, edition 1832; + in the wars editions 1839. + + +NOTE ON THE MASK OF ANARCHY, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +Though Shelley’s first eager desire to excite his countrymen to resist +openly the oppressions existent during ‘the good old times’ had faded +with early youth, still his warmest sympathies were for the people. He +was a republican, and loved a democracy. He looked on all human beings +as inheriting an equal right to possess the dearest privileges of our +nature; the necessaries of life when fairly earned by labour, and +intellectual instruction. His hatred of any despotism that looked upon +the people as not to be consulted, or protected from want and +ignorance, was intense. He was residing near Leghorn, at Villa +Valsovano, writing “The Cenci”, when the news of the Manchester +Massacre reached us; it roused in him violent emotions of indignation +and compassion. The great truth that the many, if accordant and +resolute, could control the few, as was shown some years after, made +him long to teach his injured countrymen how to resist. Inspired by +these feelings, he wrote the “Mask of Anarchy”, which he sent to his +friend Leigh Hunt, to be inserted in the Examiner, of which he was +then the Editor. + +‘I did not insert it,’ Leigh Hunt writes in his valuable and +interesting preface to this poem, when he printed it in 1832, ‘because +I thought that the public at large had not become sufficiently +discerning to do justice to the sincerity and kind-heartedness of the +spirit that walked in this flaming robe of verse.’ Days of outrage +have passed away, and with them the exasperation that would cause such +an appeal to the many to be injurious. Without being aware of them, +they at one time acted on his suggestions, and gained the day. But +they rose when human life was respected by the Minister in power; such +was not the case during the Administration which excited Shelley’s +abhorrence. + +The poem was written for the people, and is therefore in a more +popular tone than usual: portions strike as abrupt and unpolished, but +many stanzas are all his own. I heard him repeat, and admired, those +beginning + +‘My Father Time is old and gray,’ + +before I knew to what poem they were to belong. But the most touching +passage is that which describes the blessed effects of liberty; it +might make a patriot of any man whose heart was not wholly closed +against his humbler fellow-creatures. + +*** + + +PETER BELL THE THIRD. + +BY MICHING MALLECHO, ESQ. + +Is it a party in a parlour, +Crammed just as they on earth were crammed, +Some sipping punch—some sipping tea; +But, as you by their faces see, +All silent, and all—damned! +“Peter Bell”, by W. WORDSWORTH. + +OPHELIA.—What means this, my lord? +HAMLET.—Marry, this is Miching Mallecho; it means mischief. +SHAKESPEARE. + +[Composed at Florence, October, 1819, and forwarded to Hunt (November +2) to be published by C. & J. Ollier without the author’s name; +ultimately printed by Mrs. Shelley in the second edition of the +“Poetical Works”, 1839. A skit by John Hamilton Reynolds, “Peter Bell, +a Lyrical Ballad”, had already appeared (April, 1819), a few days +before the publication of Wordsworth’s “Peter Bell, a Tale”. These +productions were reviewed in Leigh Hunt’s “Examiner” (April 26, May 3, +1819); and to the entertainment derived from his perusal of Hunt’s +criticisms the composition of Shelley’s “Peter Bell the Third” is +chiefly owing.] + +DEDICATION. + +TO THOMAS BROWN, ESQ., THE YOUNGER, H.F. + +Dear Tom, + +Allow me to request you to introduce Mr. Peter Bell to the respectable +family of the Fudges. Although he may fall short of those very +considerable personages in the more active properties which +characterize the Rat and the Apostate, I suspect that even you, their +historian, will confess that he surpasses them in the more peculiarly +legitimate qualification of intolerable dulness. + +You know Mr. Examiner Hunt; well—it was he who presented me to two of +the Mr. Bells. My intimacy with the younger Mr. Bell naturally sprung +from this introduction to his brothers. And in presenting him to you, +I have the satisfaction of being able to assure you that he is +considerably the dullest of the three. + +There is this particular advantage in an acquaintance with any one of +the Peter Bells, that if you know one Peter Bell, you know three Peter +Bells; they are not one, but three; not three, but one. An awful +mystery, which, after having caused torrents of blood, and having been +hymned by groans enough to deafen the music of the spheres, is at +length illustrated to the satisfaction of all parties in the +theological world, by the nature of Mr. Peter Bell. + +Peter is a polyhedric Peter, or a Peter with many sides. He changes +colours like a chameleon, and his coat like a snake. He is a Proteus +of a Peter. He was at first sublime, pathetic, impressive, profound; +then dull; then prosy and dull; and now dull—oh so very dull! it is +an ultra-legitimate dulness. + +You will perceive that it is not necessary to consider Hell and the +Devil as supernatural machinery. The whole scene of my epic is in +‘this world which is’—so Peter informed us before his conversion to +“White Obi”— + +‘The world of all of us, AND WHERE +WE FIND OUR HAPPINESS, OR NOT AT ALL.’ + +Let me observe that I have spent six or seven days in composing this +sublime piece; the orb of my moonlike genius has made the fourth part +of its revolution round the dull earth which you inhabit, driving you +mad, while it has retained its calmness and its splendour, and I have +been fitting this its last phase ‘to occupy a permanent station in the +literature of my country.’ + +Your works, indeed, dear Tom, sell better; but mine are far superior. +The public is no judge; posterity sets all to rights. + +Allow me to observe that so much has been written of Peter Bell, that +the present history can be considered only, like the Iliad, as a +continuation of that series of cyclic poems, which have already been +candidates for bestowing immortality upon, at the same time that they +receive it from, his character and adventures. In this point of view I +have violated no rule of syntax in beginning my composition with a +conjunction; the full stop which closes the poem continued by me +being, like the full stops at the end of the Iliad and Odyssey, a full +stop of a very qualified import. + +Hoping that the immortality which you have given to the Fudges, you +will receive from them; and in the firm expectation, that when London +shall be an habitation of bitterns; when St. Paul’s and Westminster +Abbey shall stand, shapeless and nameless ruins, in the midst of an +unpeopled marsh; when the piers of Waterloo Bridge shall become the +nuclei of islets of reeds and osiers, and cast the jagged shadows of +their broken arches on the solitary stream, some transatlantic +commentator will be weighing in the scales of some new and now +unimagined system of criticism, the respective merits of the Bells and +the Fudges, and their historians. I remain, dear Tom, yours sincerely, + +MICHING MALLECHO. + +December 1, 1819. + +P.S.—Pray excuse the date of place; so soon as the profits of the +publication come in, I mean to hire lodgings in a more respectable +street. + + +PROLOGUE. + +Peter Bells, one, two and three, +O’er the wide world wandering be.— +First, the antenatal Peter, +Wrapped in weeds of the same metre, +The so-long-predestined raiment _5 +Clothed in which to walk his way meant +The second Peter; whose ambition +Is to link the proposition, +As the mean of two extremes— +(This was learned from Aldric’s themes) _10 +Shielding from the guilt of schism +The orthodoxal syllogism; +The First Peter—he who was +Like the shadow in the glass +Of the second, yet unripe, _15 +His substantial antitype.— + +Then came Peter Bell the Second, +Who henceforward must be reckoned +The body of a double soul, +And that portion of the whole _20 +Without which the rest would seem +Ends of a disjointed dream.— +And the Third is he who has +O’er the grave been forced to pass +To the other side, which is,— _25 +Go and try else,—just like this. + +Peter Bell the First was Peter +Smugger, milder, softer, neater, +Like the soul before it is +Born from THAT world into THIS. _30 +The next Peter Bell was he, +Predevote, like you and me, +To good or evil as may come; +His was the severer doom,— +For he was an evil Cotter, _35 +And a polygamic Potter. +And the last is Peter Bell, +Damned since our first parents fell, +Damned eternally to Hell— +Surely he deserves it well! _40 + +NOTES: +_10 Aldric’s] i.e. Aldrich’s—a spelling adopted here by Woodberry. + +(_36 The oldest scholiasts read— +A dodecagamic Potter. +This is at once more descriptive and more megalophonous,—but the +alliteration of the text had captivated the vulgar ear of the herd of +later commentators.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + + +PART 1. + +DEATH. + +1. +And Peter Bell, when he had been +With fresh-imported Hell-fire warmed, +Grew serious—from his dress and mien +’Twas very plainly to be seen +Peter was quite reformed. _5 + +2. +His eyes turned up, his mouth turned down; +His accent caught a nasal twang; +He oiled his hair; there might be heard +The grace of God in every word +Which Peter said or sang. _10 + +3. +But Peter now grew old, and had +An ill no doctor could unravel: +His torments almost drove him mad;— +Some said it was a fever bad— +Some swore it was the gravel. _15 + +4. +His holy friends then came about, +And with long preaching and persuasion +Convinced the patient that, without +The smallest shadow of a doubt, +He was predestined to damnation. _20 + +5. +They said—‘Thy name is Peter Bell; +Thy skin is of a brimstone hue; +Alive or dead—ay, sick or well— +The one God made to rhyme with hell; +The other, I think, rhymes with you. _25 + +6. +Then Peter set up such a yell!— +The nurse, who with some water gruel +Was climbing up the stairs, as well +As her old legs could climb them—fell, +And broke them both—the fall was cruel. _30 + +7. +The Parson from the casement lept +Into the lake of Windermere— +And many an eel—though no adept +In God’s right reason for it—kept +Gnawing his kidneys half a year. _35 + +8. +And all the rest rushed through the door +And tumbled over one another, +And broke their skulls.—Upon the floor +Meanwhile sat Peter Bell, and swore, +And cursed his father and his mother; _40 + +9. +And raved of God, and sin, and death, +Blaspheming like an infidel; +And said, that with his clenched teeth +He’d seize the earth from underneath, +And drag it with him down to hell. _45 + +10. +As he was speaking came a spasm, +And wrenched his gnashing teeth asunder; +Like one who sees a strange phantasm +He lay,—there was a silent chasm +Between his upper jaw and under. _50 + +11. +And yellow death lay on his face; +And a fixed smile that was not human +Told, as I understand the case, +That he was gone to the wrong place:— +I heard all this from the old woman. _55 + +12. +Then there came down from Langdale Pike +A cloud, with lightning, wind and hail; +It swept over the mountains like +An ocean,—and I heard it strike +The woods and crags of Grasmere vale. _60 + +13. +And I saw the black storm come +Nearer, minute after minute; +Its thunder made the cataracts dumb; +With hiss, and clash, and hollow hum, +It neared as if the Devil was in it. _65 + +14. +The Devil WAS in it:—he had bought +Peter for half-a-crown; and when +The storm which bore him vanished, nought +That in the house that storm had caught +Was ever seen again. _70 + +15. +The gaping neighbours came next day— +They found all vanished from the shore: +The Bible, whence he used to pray, +Half scorched under a hen-coop lay; +Smashed glass—and nothing more! _75 + + +PART 2. + +THE DEVIL. + +1. +The Devil, I safely can aver, +Has neither hoof, nor tail, nor sting; +Nor is he, as some sages swear, +A spirit, neither here nor there, +In nothing—yet in everything. _80 + +2. +He is—what we are; for sometimes +The Devil is a gentleman; +At others a bard bartering rhymes +For sack; a statesman spinning crimes; +A swindler, living as he can; _85 + +3. +A thief, who cometh in the night, +With whole boots and net pantaloons, +Like some one whom it were not right +To mention;—or the luckless wight +From whom he steals nine silver spoons. _90 + +4. +But in this case he did appear +Like a slop-merchant from Wapping, +And with smug face, and eye severe, +On every side did perk and peer +Till he saw Peter dead or napping. _95 + +5. +He had on an upper Benjamin +(For he was of the driving schism) +In the which he wrapped his skin +From the storm he travelled in, +For fear of rheumatism. _100 + +6. +He called the ghost out of the corse;— +It was exceedingly like Peter,— +Only its voice was hollow and hoarse— +It had a queerish look of course— +Its dress too was a little neater. _105 + +7. +The Devil knew not his name and lot; +Peter knew not that he was Bell: +Each had an upper stream of thought, +Which made all seem as it was not; +Fitting itself to all things well. _110 + +8. +Peter thought he had parents dear, +Brothers, sisters, cousins, cronies, +In the fens of Lincolnshire; +He perhaps had found them there +Had he gone and boldly shown his _115 + +9. +Solemn phiz in his own village; +Where he thought oft when a boy +He’d clomb the orchard walls to pillage +The produce of his neighbour’s tillage, +With marvellous pride and joy. _120 + +10. +And the Devil thought he had, +‘Mid the misery and confusion +Of an unjust war, just made +A fortune by the gainful trade +Of giving soldiers rations bad— _125 +The world is full of strange delusion— + +11. +That he had a mansion planned +In a square like Grosvenor Square, +That he was aping fashion, and +That he now came to Westmoreland _130 +To see what was romantic there. + +12. +And all this, though quite ideal,— +Ready at a breath to vanish,— +Was a state not more unreal +Than the peace he could not feel, _135 +Or the care he could not banish. + +13. +After a little conversation, +The Devil told Peter, if he chose, +He’d bring him to the world of fashion +By giving him a situation _140 +In his own service—and new clothes. + +14. +And Peter bowed, quite pleased and proud, +And after waiting some few days +For a new livery—dirty yellow +Turned up with black—the wretched fellow _145 +Was bowled to Hell in the Devil’s chaise. + + +PART 3. + +HELL. + +1. +Hell is a city much like London— +A populous and a smoky city; +There are all sorts of people undone, +And there is little or no fun done; _150 +Small justice shown, and still less pity. + +2. +There is a Castles, and a Canning, +A Cobbett, and a Castlereagh; +All sorts of caitiff corpses planning +All sorts of cozening for trepanning _155 +Corpses less corrupt than they. + +3. +There is a ***, who has lost +His wits, or sold them, none knows which; +He walks about a double ghost, +And though as thin as Fraud almost— _160 +Ever grows more grim and rich. + +4. +There is a Chancery Court; a King; +A manufacturing mob; a set +Of thieves who by themselves are sent +Similar thieves to represent; _165 +An army; and a public debt. + +5. +Which last is a scheme of paper money, +And means—being interpreted— +‘Bees, keep your wax—give us the honey, +And we will plant, while skies are sunny, _170 +Flowers, which in winter serve instead.’ + +6. +There is a great talk of revolution— +And a great chance of despotism— +German soldiers—camps—confusion— +Tumults—lotteries—rage—delusion— _175 +Gin—suicide—and methodism; + +7. +Taxes too, on wine and bread, +And meat, and beer, and tea, and cheese, +From which those patriots pure are fed, +Who gorge before they reel to bed _180 +The tenfold essence of all these. + +8. +There are mincing women, mewing, +(Like cats, who amant misere,) +Of their own virtue, and pursuing +Their gentler sisters to that ruin, _185 +Without which—what were chastity?(2) + +9. +Lawyers—judges—old hobnobbers +Are there—bailiffs—chancellors— +Bishops—great and little robbers— +Rhymesters—pamphleteers—stock-jobbers— _190 +Men of glory in the wars,— + +10. +Things whose trade is, over ladies +To lean, and flirt, and stare, and simper, +Till all that is divine in woman +Grows cruel, courteous, smooth, inhuman, _195 +Crucified ’twixt a smile and whimper. + +11. +Thrusting, toiling, wailing, moiling, +Frowning, preaching—such a riot! +Each with never-ceasing labour, +Whilst he thinks he cheats his neighbour, _200 +Cheating his own heart of quiet. + +12. +And all these meet at levees;— +Dinners convivial and political;— +Suppers of epic poets;—teas, +Where small talk dies in agonies;— _205 +Breakfasts professional and critical; + +13. +Lunches and snacks so aldermanic +That one would furnish forth ten dinners, +Where reigns a Cretan-tongued panic, +Lest news Russ, Dutch, or Alemannic _210 +Should make some losers, and some winners— + +45. +At conversazioni—balls— +Conventicles—and drawing-rooms— +Courts of law—committees—calls +Of a morning—clubs—book-stalls— _215 +Churches—masquerades—and tombs. + +15. +And this is Hell—and in this smother +All are damnable and damned; +Each one damning, damns the other; +They are damned by one another, _220 +By none other are they damned. + +16. +’Tis a lie to say, ‘God damns’! (1) +Where was Heaven’s Attorney General +When they first gave out such flams? +Let there be an end of shams, _225 +They are mines of poisonous mineral. + +17. +Statesmen damn themselves to be +Cursed; and lawyers damn their souls +To the auction of a fee; +Churchmen damn themselves to see _230 +God’s sweet love in burning coals. + +18. +The rich are damned, beyond all cure, +To taunt, and starve, and trample on +The weak and wretched; and the poor +Damn their broken hearts to endure _235 +Stripe on stripe, with groan on groan. + +19. +Sometimes the poor are damned indeed +To take,—not means for being blessed,— +But Cobbett’s snuff, revenge; that weed +From which the worms that it doth feed _240 +Squeeze less than they before possessed. + +20. +And some few, like we know who, +Damned—but God alone knows why— +To believe their minds are given +To make this ugly Hell a Heaven; _245 +In which faith they live and die. + +21. +Thus, as in a town, plague-stricken, +Each man be he sound or no +Must indifferently sicken; +As when day begins to thicken, _250 +None knows a pigeon from a crow,— + +22. +So good and bad, sane and mad, +The oppressor and the oppressed; +Those who weep to see what others +Smile to inflict upon their brothers; _255 +Lovers, haters, worst and best; + +23. +All are damned—they breathe an air, +Thick, infected, joy-dispelling: +Each pursues what seems most fair, +Mining like moles, through mind, and there _260 +Scoop palace-caverns vast, where Care +In throned state is ever dwelling. + + +PART 4. + +SIN. + +1. +Lo. Peter in Hell’s Grosvenor Square, +A footman in the Devil’s service! +And the misjudging world would swear _265 +That every man in service there +To virtue would prefer vice. + +2. +But Peter, though now damned, was not +What Peter was before damnation. +Men oftentimes prepare a lot _270 +Which ere it finds them, is not what +Suits with their genuine station. + +3. +All things that Peter saw and felt +Had a peculiar aspect to him; +And when they came within the belt _275 +Of his own nature, seemed to melt, +Like cloud to cloud, into him. + +4. +And so the outward world uniting +To that within him, he became +Considerably uninviting _280 +To those who, meditation slighting, +Were moulded in a different frame. + +5. +And he scorned them, and they scorned him; +And he scorned all they did; and they +Did all that men of their own trim _285 +Are wont to do to please their whim, +Drinking, lying, swearing, play. + +6. +Such were his fellow-servants; thus +His virtue, like our own, was built +Too much on that indignant fuss _290 +Hypocrite Pride stirs up in us +To bully one another’s guilt. + +7. +He had a mind which was somehow +At once circumference and centre +Of all he might or feel or know; _295 +Nothing went ever out, although +Something did ever enter. + +8. +He had as much imagination +As a pint-pot;—he never could +Fancy another situation, _300 +From which to dart his contemplation, +Than that wherein he stood. + +9. +Yet his was individual mind, +And new created all he saw +In a new manner, and refined _305 +Those new creations, and combined +Them, by a master-spirit’s law. + +10. +Thus—though unimaginative— +An apprehension clear, intense, +Of his mind’s work, had made alive _310 +The things it wrought on; I believe +Wakening a sort of thought in sense. + +11. +But from the first ’twas Peter’s drift +To be a kind of moral eunuch, +He touched the hem of Nature’s shift, _315 +Felt faint—and never dared uplift +The closest, all-concealing tunic. + +12. +She laughed the while, with an arch smile, +And kissed him with a sister’s kiss, +And said—My best Diogenes, _320 +I love you well—but, if you please, +Tempt not again my deepest bliss. + +13. +‘’Tis you are cold—for I, not coy, +Yield love for love, frank, warm, and true; +And Burns, a Scottish peasant boy— _325 +His errors prove it—knew my joy +More, learned friend, than you. + +14. +‘Boeca bacciata non perde ventura, +Anzi rinnuova come fa la luna:— +So thought Boccaccio, whose sweet words might cure a _330 +Male prude, like you, from what you now endure, a +Low-tide in soul, like a stagnant laguna. + +15. +Then Peter rubbed his eyes severe. +And smoothed his spacious forehead down +With his broad palm;—’twixt love and fear, _335 +He looked, as he no doubt felt, queer, +And in his dream sate down. + +16. +The Devil was no uncommon creature; +A leaden-witted thief—just huddled +Out of the dross and scum of nature; _340 +A toad-like lump of limb and feature, +With mind, and heart, and fancy muddled. + +17. +He was that heavy, dull, cold thing, +The spirit of evil well may be: +A drone too base to have a sting; _345 +Who gluts, and grimes his lazy wing, +And calls lust, luxury. + +18. +Now he was quite the kind of wight +Round whom collect, at a fixed aera, +Venison, turtle, hock, and claret,— _350 +Good cheer—and those who come to share it— +And best East Indian madeira! + +19. +It was his fancy to invite +Men of science, wit, and learning, +Who came to lend each other light; _355 +He proudly thought that his gold’s might +Had set those spirits burning. + +20. +And men of learning, science, wit, +Considered him as you and I +Think of some rotten tree, and sit _360 +Lounging and dining under it, +Exposed to the wide sky. + +21. +And all the while with loose fat smile, +The willing wretch sat winking there, +Believing ’twas his power that made _365 +That jovial scene—and that all paid +Homage to his unnoticed chair. + +22. +Though to be sure this place was Hell; +He was the Devil—and all they— +What though the claret circled well, _370 +And wit, like ocean, rose and fell?— +Were damned eternally. + + +PART 5. + +GRACE. + +1. +Among the guests who often stayed +Till the Devil’s petits-soupers, +A man there came, fair as a maid, _375 +And Peter noted what he said, +Standing behind his master’s chair. + +2. +He was a mighty poet—and +A subtle-souled psychologist; +All things he seemed to understand, _380 +Of old or new—of sea or land— +But his own mind—which was a mist. + +3. +This was a man who might have turned +Hell into Heaven—and so in gladness +A Heaven unto himself have earned; _385 +But he in shadows undiscerned +Trusted.—and damned himself to madness. + +4. +He spoke of poetry, and how +‘Divine it was—a light—a love— +A spirit which like wind doth blow _390 +As it listeth, to and fro; +A dew rained down from God above; + +5. +‘A power which comes and goes like dream, +And which none can ever trace— +Heaven’s light on earth—Truth’s brightest beam.’ _395 +And when he ceased there lay the gleam +Of those words upon his face. + +6. +Now Peter, when he heard such talk, +Would, heedless of a broken pate, +Stand like a man asleep, or balk _400 +Some wishing guest of knife or fork, +Or drop and break his master’s plate. + +7. +At night he oft would start and wake +Like a lover, and began +In a wild measure songs to make _405 +On moor, and glen, and rocky lake, +And on the heart of man— + +8. +And on the universal sky— +And the wide earth’s bosom green,— +And the sweet, strange mystery _410 +Of what beyond these things may lie, +And yet remain unseen. + +9. +For in his thought he visited +The spots in which, ere dead and damned, +He his wayward life had led; _415 +Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed +Which thus his fancy crammed. + +10. +And these obscure remembrances +Stirred such harmony in Peter, +That, whensoever he should please, _420 +He could speak of rocks and trees +In poetic metre. + +11. +For though it was without a sense +Of memory, yet he remembered well +Many a ditch and quick-set fence; _425 +Of lakes he had intelligence, +He knew something of heath and fell. + +12. +He had also dim recollections +Of pedlars tramping on their rounds; +Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections _430 +Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections +Old parsons make in burying-grounds. + +13. +But Peter’s verse was clear, and came +Announcing from the frozen hearth +Of a cold age, that none might tame _435 +The soul of that diviner flame +It augured to the Earth: + +14. +Like gentle rains, on the dry plains, +Making that green which late was gray, +Or like the sudden moon, that stains _440 +Some gloomy chamber’s window-panes +With a broad light like day. + +15. +For language was in Peter’s hand +Like clay while he was yet a potter; +And he made songs for all the land, _445 +Sweet both to feel and understand, +As pipkins late to mountain Cotter. + +16. +And Mr. —, the bookseller, +Gave twenty pounds for some;—then scorning +A footman’s yellow coat to wear, _450 +Peter, too proud of heart, I fear, +Instantly gave the Devil warning. + +17. +Whereat the Devil took offence, +And swore in his soul a great oath then, +‘That for his damned impertinence _455 +He’d bring him to a proper sense +Of what was due to gentlemen!’ + + +PART 6. + +DAMNATION. + +1. +‘O that mine enemy had written +A book!’—cried Job:—a fearful curse, +If to the Arab, as the Briton, _460 +’Twas galling to be critic-bitten:— +The Devil to Peter wished no worse. + +2. +When Peter’s next new book found vent, +The Devil to all the first Reviews +A copy of it slyly sent, _465 +With five-pound note as compliment, +And this short notice—‘Pray abuse.’ + +3. +Then seriatim, month and quarter, +Appeared such mad tirades.—One said— +‘Peter seduced Mrs. Foy’s daughter, _470 +Then drowned the mother in Ullswater, +The last thing as he went to bed.’ + +4. +Another—‘Let him shave his head! +Where’s Dr. Willis?—Or is he joking? +What does the rascal mean or hope, _475 +No longer imitating Pope, +In that barbarian Shakespeare poking?’ + +5. +One more, ‘Is incest not enough? +And must there be adultery too? +Grace after meat? Miscreant and Liar! _480 +Thief! Blackguard! Scoundrel! Fool! hell-fire +Is twenty times too good for you. + +6. +‘By that last book of yours WE think +You’ve double damned yourself to scorn; +We warned you whilst yet on the brink _485 +You stood. From your black name will shrink +The babe that is unborn.’ + +7. +All these Reviews the Devil made +Up in a parcel, which he had +Safely to Peter’s house conveyed. _490 +For carriage, tenpence Peter paid— +Untied them—read them—went half mad. + +8. +‘What!’ cried he, ‘this is my reward +For nights of thought, and days, of toil? +Do poets, but to be abhorred _495 +By men of whom they never heard, +Consume their spirits’ oil? + +9. +‘What have I done to them?—and who +IS Mrs. Foy? ’Tis very cruel +To speak of me and Betty so! _500 +Adultery! God defend me! Oh! +I’ve half a mind to fight a duel. + +10. +‘Or,’ cried he, a grave look collecting, +‘Is it my genius, like the moon, +Sets those who stand her face inspecting, _505 +That face within their brain reflecting, +Like a crazed bell-chime, out of tune?’ + +11. +For Peter did not know the town, +But thought, as country readers do, +For half a guinea or a crown, _510 +He bought oblivion or renown +From God’s own voice (1) in a review. + +12. +All Peter did on this occasion +Was, writing some sad stuff in prose. +It is a dangerous invasion _515 +When poets criticize; their station +Is to delight, not pose. + +13. +The Devil then sent to Leipsic fair +For Born’s translation of Kant’s book; +A world of words, tail foremost, where _520 +Right—wrong—false—true—and foul—and fair +As in a lottery-wheel are shook. + +14. +Five thousand crammed octavo pages +Of German psychologics,—he +Who his furor verborum assuages _525 +Thereon, deserves just seven months’ wages +More than will e’er be due to me. + +15. +I looked on them nine several days, +And then I saw that they were bad; +A friend, too, spoke in their dispraise,— _530 +He never read them;—with amaze +I found Sir William Drummond had. + +16. +When the book came, the Devil sent +It to P. Verbovale (2), Esquire, +With a brief note of compliment, _535 +By that night’s Carlisle mail. It went, +And set his soul on fire. + +17. +Fire, which ex luce praebens fumum, +Made him beyond the bottom see +Of truth’s clear well—when I and you, Ma’am, _540 +Go, as we shall do, subter humum, +We may know more than he. + +18. +Now Peter ran to seed in soul +Into a walking paradox; +For he was neither part nor whole, _545 +Nor good, nor bad—nor knave nor fool; +—Among the woods and rocks + +19. +Furious he rode, where late he ran, +Lashing and spurring his tame hobby; +Turned to a formal puritan, _550 +A solemn and unsexual man,— +He half believed “White Obi”. + +20. +This steed in vision he would ride, +High trotting over nine-inch bridges, +With Flibbertigibbet, imp of pride, _555 +Mocking and mowing by his side— +A mad-brained goblin for a guide— +Over corn-fields, gates, and hedges. + +21. +After these ghastly rides, he came +Home to his heart, and found from thence _560 +Much stolen of its accustomed flame; +His thoughts grew weak, drowsy, and lame +Of their intelligence. + +22. +To Peter’s view, all seemed one hue; +He was no Whig, he was no Tory; _565 +No Deist and no Christian he;— +He got so subtle, that to be +Nothing, was all his glory. + +23. +One single point in his belief +From his organization sprung, _570 +The heart-enrooted faith, the chief +Ear in his doctrines’ blighted sheaf, +That ‘Happiness is wrong’; + +24. +So thought Calvin and Dominic; +So think their fierce successors, who _575 +Even now would neither stint nor stick +Our flesh from off our bones to pick, +If they might ‘do their do.’ + +25. +His morals thus were undermined:— +The old Peter—the hard, old Potter— _580 +Was born anew within his mind; +He grew dull, harsh, sly, unrefined, +As when he tramped beside the Otter. (1) + +26. +In the death hues of agony +Lambently flashing from a fish, _585 +Now Peter felt amused to see +Shades like a rainbow’s rise and flee, +Mixed with a certain hungry wish(2). + +27. +So in his Country’s dying face +He looked—and, lovely as she lay, _590 +Seeking in vain his last embrace, +Wailing her own abandoned case, +With hardened sneer he turned away: + +28. +And coolly to his own soul said;— +‘Do you not think that we might make _595 +A poem on her when she’s dead:— +Or, no—a thought is in my head— +Her shroud for a new sheet I’ll take: + +29. +‘My wife wants one.—Let who will bury +This mangled corpse! And I and you, _600 +My dearest Soul, will then make merry, +As the Prince Regent did with Sherry,—’ +‘Ay—and at last desert me too.’ + +30. +And so his Soul would not be gay, +But moaned within him; like a fawn _605 +Moaning within a cave, it lay +Wounded and wasting, day by day, +Till all its life of life was gone. + +31. +As troubled skies stain waters clear, +The storm in Peter’s heart and mind _610 +Now made his verses dark and queer: +They were the ghosts of what they were, +Shaking dim grave-clothes in the wind. + +32. +For he now raved enormous folly, +Of Baptisms, Sunday-schools, and Graves, _615 +’Twould make George Colman melancholy +To have heard him, like a male Molly, +Chanting those stupid staves. + +33. +Yet the Reviews, who heaped abuse +On Peter while he wrote for freedom, _620 +So soon as in his song they spy +The folly which soothes tyranny, +Praise him, for those who feed ’em. + +34. +‘He was a man, too great to scan;— +A planet lost in truth’s keen rays:— _625 +His virtue, awful and prodigious;— +He was the most sublime, religious, +Pure-minded Poet of these days.’ + +35. +As soon as he read that, cried Peter, +‘Eureka! I have found the way _630 +To make a better thing of metre +Than e’er was made by living creature +Up to this blessed day.’ + +36. +Then Peter wrote odes to the Devil;— +In one of which he meekly said: _635 +‘May Carnage and Slaughter, +Thy niece and thy daughter, +May Rapine and Famine, +Thy gorge ever cramming, +Glut thee with living and dead! _640 + +37. +‘May Death and Damnation, +And Consternation, +Flit up from Hell with pure intent! +Slash them at Manchester, +Glasgow, Leeds, and Chester; _645 +Drench all with blood from Avon to Trent. + +38. +‘Let thy body-guard yeomen +Hew down babes and women, +And laugh with bold triumph till Heaven be rent! +When Moloch in Jewry _650 +Munched children with fury, +It was thou, Devil, dining with pure intent. (1) + + +PART 7. + +DOUBLE DAMNATION. + +1. +The Devil now knew his proper cue.— +Soon as he read the ode, he drove +To his friend Lord MacMurderchouse’s, _655 +A man of interest in both houses, +And said:—‘For money or for love, + +2. +‘Pray find some cure or sinecure; +To feed from the superfluous taxes +A friend of ours—a poet—fewer _660 +Have fluttered tamer to the lure +Than he.’ His lordship stands and racks his + +3. +Stupid brains, while one might count +As many beads as he had boroughs,— +At length replies; from his mean front, _665 +Like one who rubs out an account, +Smoothing away the unmeaning furrows: + +4. +‘It happens fortunately, dear Sir, +I can. I hope I need require +No pledge from you, that he will stir _670 +In our affairs;—like Oliver. +That he’ll be worthy of his hire.’ + +5. +These words exchanged, the news sent off +To Peter, home the Devil hied,— +Took to his bed; he had no cough, _675 +No doctor,—meat and drink enough.— +Yet that same night he died. + +6. +The Devil’s corpse was leaded down; +His decent heirs enjoyed his pelf, +Mourning-coaches, many a one, _680 +Followed his hearse along the town:— +Where was the Devil himself? + +7. +When Peter heard of his promotion, +His eyes grew like two stars for bliss: +There was a bow of sleek devotion _685 +Engendering in his back; each motion +Seemed a Lord’s shoe to kiss. + +8. +He hired a house, bought plate, and made +A genteel drive up to his door, +With sifted gravel neatly laid,— _690 +As if defying all who said, +Peter was ever poor. + +9. +But a disease soon struck into +The very life and soul of Peter— +He walked about—slept—had the hue _695 +Of health upon his cheeks—and few +Dug better—none a heartier eater. + +10. +And yet a strange and horrid curse +Clung upon Peter, night and day; +Month after month the thing grew worse, _700 +And deadlier than in this my verse +I can find strength to say. + +11. +Peter was dull—he was at first +Dull—oh, so dull—so very dull! +Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed— _705 +Still with this dulness was he cursed— +Dull—beyond all conception—dull. + +12. +No one could read his books—no mortal, +But a few natural friends, would hear him; +The parson came not near his portal; _710 +His state was like that of the immortal +Described by Swift—no man could bear him. + +13. +His sister, wife, and children yawned, +With a long, slow, and drear ennui, +All human patience far beyond; _715 +Their hopes of Heaven each would have pawned, +Anywhere else to be. + +14. +But in his verse, and in his prose, +The essence of his dulness was +Concentred and compressed so close, _720 +’Twould have made Guatimozin doze +On his red gridiron of brass. + +15. +A printer’s boy, folding those pages, +Fell slumbrously upon one side; +Like those famed Seven who slept three ages. _725 +To wakeful frenzy’s vigil—rages, +As opiates, were the same applied. + +16. +Even the Reviewers who were hired +To do the work of his reviewing, +With adamantine nerves, grew tired;— _730 +Gaping and torpid they retired, +To dream of what they should be doing. + +17. +And worse and worse, the drowsy curse +Yawned in him, till it grew a pest— +A wide contagious atmosphere, _735 +Creeping like cold through all things near; +A power to infect and to infest. + +18. +His servant-maids and dogs grew dull; +His kitten, late a sportive elf; +The woods and lakes, so beautiful, _740 +Of dim stupidity were full. +All grew dull as Peter’s self. + +19. +The earth under his feet—the springs, +Which lived within it a quick life, +The air, the winds of many wings, _745 +That fan it with new murmurings, +Were dead to their harmonious strife. + +20. +The birds and beasts within the wood, +The insects, and each creeping thing, +Were now a silent multitude; _750 +Love’s work was left unwrought—no brood +Near Peter’s house took wing. + +21. +And every neighbouring cottager +Stupidly yawned upon the other: +No jackass brayed; no little cur _755 +Cocked up his ears;—no man would stir +To save a dying mother. + +22. +Yet all from that charmed district went +But some half-idiot and half-knave, +Who rather than pay any rent, _760 +Would live with marvellous content, +Over his father’s grave. + +23. +No bailiff dared within that space, +For fear of the dull charm, to enter; +A man would bear upon his face, _765 +For fifteen months in any case, +The yawn of such a venture. + +24. +Seven miles above—below—around— +This pest of dulness holds its sway; +A ghastly life without a sound; _770 +To Peter’s soul the spell is bound— +How should it ever pass away? + +NOTES: +(_8 To those who have not duly appreciated the distinction between +Whale and Russia oil, this attribute might rather seem to belong to +the Dandy than the Evangelic. The effect, when to the windward, is +indeed so similar, that it requires a subtle naturalist to +discriminate the animals. They belong, however, to distinct +genera.—[SHELLEY’s NOTE.) + +(_183 One of the attributes in Linnaeus’s description of the Cat. To a +similar cause the caterwauling of more than one species of this genus +is to be referred;—except, indeed, that the poor quadruped is +compelled to quarrel with its own pleasures, whilst the biped is +supposed only to quarrel with those of others.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +(_186 What would this husk and excuse for a virtue be without its +kernel prostitution, or the kernel prostitution without this husk of a +virtue? I wonder the women of the town do not form an association, +like the Society for the Suppression of Vice, for the support of what +may be called the ‘King, Church, and Constitution’ of their order. But +this subject is almost too horrible for a joke.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +(_222 This libel on our national oath, and this accusation of all our +countrymen of being in the daily practice of solemnly asseverating the +most enormous falsehood, I fear deserves the notice of a more active +Attorney General than that here alluded to.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +_292 one Fleay cj., Rossetti, Forman, Dowden, Woodberry; + out 1839, 2nd edition. +_500 Betty]Emma 1839, 2nd edition. See letter from Shelley to Ollier, + May 14, 1820 (Shelley Memorials, page 139). + +(_512 Vox populi, vox dei. As Mr. Godwin truly observes of a more +famous saying, of some merit as a popular maxim, but totally destitute +of philosophical accuracy.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +(_534 Quasi, Qui valet verba:—i.e. all the words which have been, +are, or may be expended by, for, against, with, or on him. A +sufficient proof of the utility of this history. Peter’s progenitor +who selected this name seems to have possessed A PURE ANTICIPATED +COGNITION of the nature and modesty of this ornament of his +posterity.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +_602-3 See Editor’s Note. + +(_583 A famous river in the new Atlantis of the Dynastophylic +Pantisocratists.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +(_588 See the description of the beautiful colours produced during the +agonizing death of a number of trout, in the fourth part of a long +poem in blank verse, published within a few years. [“The Excursion”, 8 +2 568-71.—Ed.] That poem contains curious evidence of the gradual +hardening of a strong but circumscribed sensibility, of the perversion +of a penetrating but panic-stricken understanding. The author might +have derived a lesson which he had probably forgotten from these sweet +and sublime verses:— + +‘This lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide, +Taught both by what she (Nature) shows and what conceals, +Never to blend our pleasure or our pride +With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.’—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +(_652 It is curious to observe how often extremes meet. Cobbett and +Peter use the same language for a different purpose: Peter is indeed a +sort of metrical Cobbett. Cobbett is, however, more mischievous than +Peter, because he pollutes a holy and how unconquerable cause with the +principles of legitimate murder; whilst the other only makes a bad one +ridiculous and odious. + +If either Peter or Cobbett should see this note, each will feel more +indignation at being compared to the other than at any censure implied +in the moral perversion laid to their charge.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + + +NOTE ON PETER BELL THE THIRD, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +In this new edition I have added “Peter Bell the Third”. A critique on +Wordsworth’s “Peter Bell” reached us at Leghorn, which amused Shelley +exceedingly, and suggested this poem. + +I need scarcely observe that nothing personal to the author of “Peter +Bell” is intended in this poem. No man ever admired Wordsworth’s +poetry more;—he read it perpetually, and taught others to appreciate +its beauties. This poem is, like all others written by Shelley, ideal. +He conceived the idealism of a poet—a man of lofty and creative +genius—quitting the glorious calling of discovering and announcing +the beautiful and good, to support and propagate ignorant prejudices +and pernicious errors; imparting to the unenlightened, not that ardour +for truth and spirit of toleration which Shelley looked on as the +sources of the moral improvement and happiness of mankind, but false +and injurious opinions, that evil was good, and that ignorance and +force were the best allies of purity and virtue. His idea was that a +man gifted, even as transcendently as the author of “Peter Bell”, with +the highest qualities of genius, must, if he fostered such errors, be +infected with dulness. This poem was written as a warning—not as a +narration of the reality. He was unacquainted personally with +Wordsworth, or with Coleridge (to whom he alludes in the fifth part of +the poem), and therefore, I repeat, his poem is purely ideal;—it +contains something of criticism on the compositions of those great +poets, but nothing injurious to the men themselves. + +No poem contains more of Shelley’s peculiar views with regard to the +errors into which many of the wisest have fallen, and the pernicious +effects of certain opinions on society. Much of it is beautifully +written: and, though, like the burlesque drama of “Swellfoot”, it must +be looked on as a plaything, it has so much merit and poetry—so much +of HIMSELF in it—that it cannot fail to interest greatly, and by +right belongs to the world for whose instruction and benefit it was +written. + +*** + + +LETTER TO MARIA GISBORNE. + +[Composed during Shelley’s occupation of the Gisbornes’ house at +Leghorn, July, 1820; published in “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Sources of +the text are (1) a draft in Shelley’s hand, ‘partly illegible’ +(Forman), amongst the Boscombe manuscripts; (2) a transcript by Mrs. +Shelley; (3) the editio princeps, 1824; the text in “Poetical Works”, +1839, let and 2nd editions. Our text is that of Mrs. Shelley’s +transcript, modified by the Boscombe manuscript. Here, as elsewhere in +this edition, the readings of the editio princeps are preserved in the +footnotes.] + +LEGHORN, July 1, 1820.] + +The spider spreads her webs, whether she be +In poet’s tower, cellar, or barn, or tree; +The silk-worm in the dark green mulberry leaves +His winding sheet and cradle ever weaves; +So I, a thing whom moralists call worm, _5 +Sit spinning still round this decaying form, +From the fine threads of rare and subtle thought— +No net of words in garish colours wrought +To catch the idle buzzers of the day— +But a soft cell, where when that fades away, _10 +Memory may clothe in wings my living name +And feed it with the asphodels of fame, +Which in those hearts which must remember me +Grow, making love an immortality. + +Whoever should behold me now, I wist, _15 +Would think I were a mighty mechanist, +Bent with sublime Archimedean art +To breathe a soul into the iron heart +Of some machine portentous, or strange gin, +Which by the force of figured spells might win _20 +Its way over the sea, and sport therein; +For round the walls are hung dread engines, such +As Vulcan never wrought for Jove to clutch +Ixion or the Titan:—or the quick +Wit of that man of God, St. Dominic, _25 +To convince Atheist, Turk, or Heretic, +Or those in philanthropic council met, +Who thought to pay some interest for the debt +They owed to Jesus Christ for their salvation, +By giving a faint foretaste of damnation _30 +To Shakespeare, Sidney, Spenser, and the rest +Who made our land an island of the blest, +When lamp-like Spain, who now relumes her fire +On Freedom’s hearth, grew dim with Empire:— +With thumbscrews, wheels, with tooth and spike and jag, _35 +Which fishers found under the utmost crag +Of Cornwall and the storm-encompassed isles, +Where to the sky the rude sea rarely smiles +Unless in treacherous wrath, as on the morn +When the exulting elements in scorn, _40 +Satiated with destroyed destruction, lay +Sleeping in beauty on their mangled prey, +As panthers sleep;—and other strange and dread +Magical forms the brick floor overspread,— +Proteus transformed to metal did not make _45 +More figures, or more strange; nor did he take +Such shapes of unintelligible brass, +Or heap himself in such a horrid mass +Of tin and iron not to be understood; +And forms of unimaginable wood, _50 +To puzzle Tubal Cain and all his brood: +Great screws, and cones, and wheels, and grooved blocks, +The elements of what will stand the shocks +Of wave and wind and time.—Upon the table +More knacks and quips there be than I am able _55 +To catalogize in this verse of mine:— +A pretty bowl of wood—not full of wine, +But quicksilver; that dew which the gnomes drink +When at their subterranean toil they swink, +Pledging the demons of the earthquake, who _60 +Reply to them in lava—cry halloo! +And call out to the cities o’er their head,— +Roofs, towers, and shrines, the dying and the dead, +Crash through the chinks of earth—and then all quaff +Another rouse, and hold their sides and laugh. _65 +This quicksilver no gnome has drunk—within +The walnut bowl it lies, veined and thin, +In colour like the wake of light that stains +The Tuscan deep, when from the moist moon rains +The inmost shower of its white fire—the breeze _70 +Is still—blue Heaven smiles over the pale seas. +And in this bowl of quicksilver—for I +Yield to the impulse of an infancy +Outlasting manhood—I have made to float +A rude idealism of a paper boat:— _75 +A hollow screw with cogs—Henry will know +The thing I mean and laugh at me,—if so +He fears not I should do more mischief.—Next +Lie bills and calculations much perplexed, +With steam-boats, frigates, and machinery quaint _80 +Traced over them in blue and yellow paint. +Then comes a range of mathematical +Instruments, for plans nautical and statical, +A heap of rosin, a queer broken glass +With ink in it;—a china cup that was _85 +What it will never be again, I think,— +A thing from which sweet lips were wont to drink +The liquor doctors rail at—and which I +Will quaff in spite of them—and when we die +We’ll toss up who died first of drinking tea, _90 +And cry out,—‘Heads or tails?’ where’er we be. +Near that a dusty paint-box, some odd hooks, +A half-burnt match, an ivory block, three books, +Where conic sections, spherics, logarithms, +To great Laplace, from Saunderson and Sims, _95 +Lie heaped in their harmonious disarray +Of figures,—disentangle them who may. +Baron de Tott’s Memoirs beside them lie, +And some odd volumes of old chemistry. +Near those a most inexplicable thing, _100 +With lead in the middle—I’m conjecturing +How to make Henry understand; but no— +I’ll leave, as Spenser says, with many mo, +This secret in the pregnant womb of time, +Too vast a matter for so weak a rhyme. _105 + +And here like some weird Archimage sit I, +Plotting dark spells, and devilish enginery, +The self-impelling steam-wheels of the mind +Which pump up oaths from clergymen, and grind +The gentle spirit of our meek reviews _110 +Into a powdery foam of salt abuse, +Ruffling the ocean of their self-content;— +I sit—and smile or sigh as is my bent, +But not for them—Libeccio rushes round +With an inconstant and an idle sound, _115 +I heed him more than them—the thunder-smoke +Is gathering on the mountains, like a cloak +Folded athwart their shoulders broad and bare; +The ripe corn under the undulating air +Undulates like an ocean;—and the vines _120 +Are trembling wide in all their trellised lines— +The murmur of the awakening sea doth fill +The empty pauses of the blast;—the hill +Looks hoary through the white electric rain, +And from the glens beyond, in sullen strain, _125 +The interrupted thunder howls; above +One chasm of Heaven smiles, like the eye of Love +On the unquiet world;—while such things are, +How could one worth your friendship heed the war +Of worms? the shriek of the world’s carrion jays, _130 +Their censure, or their wonder, or their praise? + +You are not here! the quaint witch Memory sees, +In vacant chairs, your absent images, +And points where once you sat, and now should be +But are not.—I demand if ever we _135 +Shall meet as then we met;—and she replies. +Veiling in awe her second-sighted eyes; +‘I know the past alone—but summon home +My sister Hope,—she speaks of all to come.’ +But I, an old diviner, who knew well _140 +Every false verse of that sweet oracle, +Turned to the sad enchantress once again, +And sought a respite from my gentle pain, +In citing every passage o’er and o’er +Of our communion—how on the sea-shore _145 +We watched the ocean and the sky together, +Under the roof of blue Italian weather; +How I ran home through last year’s thunder-storm, +And felt the transverse lightning linger warm +Upon my cheek—and how we often made _150 +Feasts for each other, where good will outweighed +The frugal luxury of our country cheer, +As well it might, were it less firm and clear +Than ours must ever be;—and how we spun +A shroud of talk to hide us from the sun _155 +Of this familiar life, which seems to be +But is not:—or is but quaint mockery +Of all we would believe, and sadly blame +The jarring and inexplicable frame +Of this wrong world:—and then anatomize _160 +The purposes and thoughts of men whose eyes +Were closed in distant years;—or widely guess +The issue of the earth’s great business, +When we shall be as we no longer are— +Like babbling gossips safe, who hear the war _165 +Of winds, and sigh, but tremble not;—or how +You listened to some interrupted flow +Of visionary rhyme,—in joy and pain +Struck from the inmost fountains of my brain, +With little skill perhaps;—or how we sought _170 +Those deepest wells of passion or of thought +Wrought by wise poets in the waste of years, +Staining their sacred waters with our tears; +Quenching a thirst ever to be renewed! +Or how I, wisest lady! then endued _175 +The language of a land which now is free, +And, winged with thoughts of truth and majesty, +Flits round the tyrant’s sceptre like a cloud, +And bursts the peopled prisons, and cries aloud, +‘My name is Legion!’—that majestic tongue _180 +Which Calderon over the desert flung +Of ages and of nations; and which found +An echo in our hearts, and with the sound +Startled oblivion;—thou wert then to me +As is a nurse—when inarticulately _185 +A child would talk as its grown parents do. +If living winds the rapid clouds pursue, +If hawks chase doves through the aethereal way, +Huntsmen the innocent deer, and beasts their prey, +Why should not we rouse with the spirit’s blast _190 +Out of the forest of the pathless past +These recollected pleasures? +You are now +In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow +At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore +Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more. _195 +Yet in its depth what treasures! You will see +That which was Godwin,—greater none than he +Though fallen—and fallen on evil times—to stand +Among the spirits of our age and land, +Before the dread tribunal of “to come” _200 +The foremost,—while Rebuke cowers pale and dumb. +You will see Coleridge—he who sits obscure +In the exceeding lustre and the pure +Intense irradiation of a mind, +Which, with its own internal lightning blind, _200 +Flags wearily through darkness and despair— +A cloud-encircled meteor of the air, +A hooded eagle among blinking owls.— +You will see Hunt—one of those happy souls +Which are the salt of the earth, and without whom _210 +This world would smell like what it is—a tomb; +Who is, what others seem; his room no doubt +Is still adorned with many a cast from Shout, +With graceful flowers tastefully placed about; +And coronals of bay from ribbons hung, _215 +And brighter wreaths in neat disorder flung; +The gifts of the most learned among some dozens +Of female friends, sisters-in-law, and cousins. +And there is he with his eternal puns, +Which beat the dullest brain for smiles, like duns _220 +Thundering for money at a poet’s door; +Alas! it is no use to say, ‘I’m poor!’ +Or oft in graver mood, when he will look +Things wiser than were ever read in book, +Except in Shakespeare’s wisest tenderness.— _225 +You will see Hogg,—and I cannot express +His virtues,—though I know that they are great, +Because he locks, then barricades the gate +Within which they inhabit;—of his wit +And wisdom, you’ll cry out when you are bit. _230 +He is a pearl within an oyster shell. +One of the richest of the deep;—and there +Is English Peacock, with his mountain Fair, +Turned into a Flamingo;—that shy bird +That gleams i’ the Indian air—have you not heard _235 +When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindoo, +His best friends hear no more of him?—but you +Will see him, and will like him too, I hope, +With the milk-white Snowdonian Antelope +Matched with this cameleopard—his fine wit _240 +Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it; +A strain too learned for a shallow age, +Too wise for selfish bigots; let his page, +Which charms the chosen spirits of the time, +Fold itself up for the serener clime _245 +Of years to come, and find its recompense +In that just expectation.—Wit and sense, +Virtue and human knowledge; all that might +Make this dull world a business of delight, +Are all combined in Horace Smith.—And these. _250 +With some exceptions, which I need not tease +Your patience by descanting on,—are all +You and I know in London. +I recall +My thoughts, and bid you look upon the night. +As water does a sponge, so the moonlight _255 +Fills the void, hollow, universal air— +What see you?—unpavilioned Heaven is fair, +Whether the moon, into her chamber gone, +Leaves midnight to the golden stars, or wan +Climbs with diminished beams the azure steep; _260 +Or whether clouds sail o’er the inverse deep, +Piloted by the many-wandering blast, +And the rare stars rush through them dim and fast:— +All this is beautiful in every land.— +But what see you beside?—a shabby stand _265 +Of Hackney coaches—a brick house or wall +Fencing some lonely court, white with the scrawl +Of our unhappy politics;—or worse— +A wretched woman reeling by, whose curse +Mixed with the watchman’s, partner of her trade, _270 +You must accept in place of serenade— +Or yellow-haired Pollonia murmuring +To Henry, some unutterable thing. +I see a chaos of green leaves and fruit +Built round dark caverns, even to the root _275 +Of the living stems that feed them—in whose bowers +There sleep in their dark dew the folded flowers; +Beyond, the surface of the unsickled corn +Trembles not in the slumbering air, and borne +In circles quaint, and ever-changing dance, _280 +Like winged stars the fire-flies flash and glance, +Pale in the open moonshine, but each one +Under the dark trees seems a little sun, +A meteor tamed; a fixed star gone astray +From the silver regions of the milky way;— _285 +Afar the Contadino’s song is heard, +Rude, but made sweet by distance—and a bird +Which cannot be the Nightingale, and yet +I know none else that sings so sweet as it +At this late hour;—and then all is still— _290 +Now—Italy or London, which you will! + +Next winter you must pass with me; I’ll have +My house by that time turned into a grave +Of dead despondence and low-thoughted care, +And all the dreams which our tormentors are; _295 +Oh! that Hunt, Hogg, Peacock, and Smith were there, +With everything belonging to them fair!— +We will have books, Spanish, Italian, Greek; +And ask one week to make another week +As like his father, as I’m unlike mine, _300 +Which is not his fault, as you may divine. +Though we eat little flesh and drink no wine, +Yet let’s be merry: we’ll have tea and toast; +Custards for supper, and an endless host +Of syllabubs and jellies and mince-pies, _305 +And other such lady-like luxuries,— +Feasting on which we will philosophize! +And we’ll have fires out of the Grand Duke’s wood, +To thaw the six weeks’ winter in our blood. +And then we’ll talk;—what shall we talk about? _310 +Oh! there are themes enough for many a bout +Of thought-entangled descant;—as to nerves— +With cones and parallelograms and curves +I’ve sworn to strangle them if once they dare +To bother me—when you are with me there. _315 +And they shall never more sip laudanum, +From Helicon or Himeros (1);—well, come, +And in despite of God and of the devil, +We’ll make our friendly philosophic revel +Outlast the leafless time; till buds and flowers _320 +Warn the obscure inevitable hours, +Sweet meeting by sad parting to renew;— +‘To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.’ + +NOTES: +_13 must Bos. manuscript; most edition 1824. +_27 philanthropic Bos. manuscript; philosophic edition 1824. +_29 so 1839, 2nd edition; They owed... edition 1824. +_36 Which fishers Bos. manuscript; Which fishes edition 1824; + With fishes editions 1839. +_38 rarely transcript; seldom editions 1824, 1839. +_61 lava—cry]lava-cry editions 1824, 1839. +_63 towers transcript; towns editions 1824, 1839. +_84 queer Bos. manuscript; green transcript, editions 1824, 1839. +_92 odd hooks transcript; old books editions 1839 (an evident misprint); + old hooks edition 1824. +_93 A]An edition 1824. +_100 those transcript; them editions 1824, 1839. +_101 lead Bos. manuscript; least transcript, editions 1824, 1839. +_127 eye Bos. manuscript, transcript, editions 1839; age edition 1824. +_140 knew Bos. manuscript; know transcript, editions 1824, 1839. +_144 citing Bos. manuscript; acting transcript, editions 1824, 1839. +_151 Feasts transcript; Treats editions 1824, 1839. +_153 As well it]As it well editions 1824, 1839. +_158 believe, and]believe; or editions 1824, 1839. +_173 their transcript; the editions 1824, 1839. +_188 aethereal transcript; aereal editions 1824, 1839. +_197-201 See notes Volume 3. +_202 Coleridge]C— edition 1824. So too H—t l. 209; H— l. 226; + P— l. 233; H.S. l. 250; H— — and — l. 296. +_205 lightning Bos. manuscript, transcript; lustre editions 1824, 1839. +_224 read Bos. manuscript; said transcript, editions 1824, 1839. +_244 time Bos. manuscript, transcript; age editions 1824, 1839. +_245 the transcript: a editions 1824, 1839. +_272, _273 found in the 2nd edition of P. W., 1839; + wanting in transcript, edition 1824 and 1839, 1st. edition. +_276 that transcript; who editions 1824, 1839. +_288 the transcript; a editions 1824, 1839. +_296 See notes Volume 3. +_299, _300 So 1839, 2nd edition; wanting in editions 1824, 1839, 1st. +_301 So transcript; wanting in editions 1824, 1839. +_317 well, come 1839, 2nd edition; we’ll come editions 1824, 1839. 1st. +_318 despite of God] transcript; despite of... edition 1824; + spite of... editions 1839. + +(_317 Imeros, from which the river Himera was named, is, with some +slight shade of difference, a synonym of Love.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.] + +*** + + +THE WITCH OF ATLAS. + +[Composed at the Baths of San Giuliano, near Pisa, August 14-16, 1820; +published in Posthumous Poems, edition Mrs. Shelley, 1824. The +dedication To Mas-y first appeared in the Poetical Works, 1839, 1st +edition Sources of the text are (1) the editio princeps, 1824; (2) +editions 1839 (which agree, and, save in two instances, follow edition +1824); (3) an early and incomplete manuscript in Shelley’s handwriting +(now at the Bodleian, here, as throughout, cited as B.), carefully +collated by Mr. C.D. Locock, who printed the results in his +Examination of the Shelley manuscripts, etc., Oxford, Clarendon Press, +1903; (4) a later, yet intermediate, transcript by Mrs. Shelley, the +variations of which are noted by Mr. H. Buxton Forman. The original +text is modified in many places by variants from the manuscripts, but +the readings of edition 1824 are, in every instance, given in the +footnotes.] + + +TO MARY +(ON HER OBJECTING TO THE FOLLOWING POEM, UPON THE +SCORE OF ITS CONTAINING NO HUMAN INTEREST). + +1. +How, my dear Mary,—are you critic-bitten +(For vipers kill, though dead) by some review, +That you condemn these verses I have written, +Because they tell no story, false or true? +What, though no mice are caught by a young kitten, _5 +May it not leap and play as grown cats do, +Till its claws come? Prithee, for this one time, +Content thee with a visionary rhyme. + +2. +What hand would crush the silken-winged fly, +The youngest of inconstant April’s minions, _10 +Because it cannot climb the purest sky, +Where the swan sings, amid the sun’s dominions? +Not thine. Thou knowest ’tis its doom to die, +When Day shall hide within her twilight pinions +The lucent eyes, and the eternal smile, _15 +Serene as thine, which lent it life awhile. + +3. +To thy fair feet a winged Vision came, +Whose date should have been longer than a day, +And o’er thy head did beat its wings for fame, +And in thy sight its fading plumes display; _20 +The watery bow burned in the evening flame. +But the shower fell, the swift Sun went his way— +And that is dead.—O, let me not believe +That anything of mine is fit to live! + +4. +Wordsworth informs us he was nineteen years _25 +Considering and retouching Peter Bell; +Watering his laurels with the killing tears +Of slow, dull care, so that their roots to Hell +Might pierce, and their wide branches blot the spheres +Of Heaven, with dewy leaves and flowers; this well _30 +May be, for Heaven and Earth conspire to foil +The over-busy gardener’s blundering toil. + +5. +My Witch indeed is not so sweet a creature +As Ruth or Lucy, whom his graceful praise +Clothes for our grandsons—but she matches Peter, _35 +Though he took nineteen years, and she three days +In dressing. Light the vest of flowing metre +She wears; he, proud as dandy with his stays, +Has hung upon his wiry limbs a dress +Like King Lear’s ‘looped and windowed raggedness.’ _40 + +6. +If you strip Peter, you will see a fellow +Scorched by Hell’s hyperequatorial climate +Into a kind of a sulphureous yellow: +A lean mark, hardly fit to fling a rhyme at; +In shape a Scaramouch, in hue Othello. _45 +If you unveil my Witch, no priest nor primate +Can shrive you of that sin,—if sin there be +In love, when it becomes idolatry. + + +THE WITCH OF ATLAS. + +1. +Before those cruel Twins, whom at one birth +Incestuous Change bore to her father Time, _50 +Error and Truth, had hunted from the Earth +All those bright natures which adorned its prime, +And left us nothing to believe in, worth +The pains of putting into learned rhyme, +A lady-witch there lived on Atlas’ mountain _55 +Within a cavern, by a secret fountain. + +2. +Her mother was one of the Atlantides: +The all-beholding Sun had ne’er beholden +In his wide voyage o’er continents and seas +So fair a creature, as she lay enfolden _60 +In the warm shadow of her loveliness;— +He kissed her with his beams, and made all golden +The chamber of gray rock in which she lay— +She, in that dream of joy, dissolved away. + +3. +’Tis said, she first was changed into a vapour, _65 +And then into a cloud, such clouds as flit, +Like splendour-winged moths about a taper, +Round the red west when the sun dies in it: +And then into a meteor, such as caper +On hill-tops when the moon is in a fit: _70 +Then, into one of those mysterious stars +Which hide themselves between the Earth and Mars. + +4. +Ten times the Mother of the Months had bent +Her bow beside the folding-star, and bidden +With that bright sign the billows to indent _75 +The sea-deserted sand—like children chidden, +At her command they ever came and went— +Since in that cave a dewy splendour hidden +Took shape and motion: with the living form +Of this embodied Power, the cave grew warm. _80 + +5. +A lovely lady garmented in light +From her own beauty—deep her eyes, as are +Two openings of unfathomable night +Seen through a Temple’s cloven roof—her hair +Dark—the dim brain whirls dizzy with delight. _85 +Picturing her form; her soft smiles shone afar, +And her low voice was heard like love, and drew +All living things towards this wonder new. + +6. +And first the spotted cameleopard came, +And then the wise and fearless elephant; _90 +Then the sly serpent, in the golden flame +Of his own volumes intervolved;—all gaunt +And sanguine beasts her gentle looks made tame. +They drank before her at her sacred fount; +And every beast of beating heart grew bold, _95 +Such gentleness and power even to behold. + +7. +The brinded lioness led forth her young, +That she might teach them how they should forego +Their inborn thirst of death; the pard unstrung +His sinews at her feet, and sought to know _100 +With looks whose motions spoke without a tongue +How he might be as gentle as the doe. +The magic circle of her voice and eyes +All savage natures did imparadise. + +8. +And old Silenus, shaking a green stick _105 +Of lilies, and the wood-gods in a crew +Came, blithe, as in the olive copses thick +Cicadae are, drunk with the noonday dew: +And Dryope and Faunus followed quick, +Teasing the God to sing them something new; _110 +Till in this cave they found the lady lone, +Sitting upon a seat of emerald stone. + +9. +And universal Pan, ’tis said, was there, +And though none saw him,—through the adamant +Of the deep mountains, through the trackless air, _115 +And through those living spirits, like a want, +He passed out of his everlasting lair +Where the quick heart of the great world doth pant, +And felt that wondrous lady all alone,— +And she felt him, upon her emerald throne. _120 + +10. +And every nymph of stream and spreading tree, +And every shepherdess of Ocean’s flocks, +Who drives her white waves over the green sea, +And Ocean with the brine on his gray locks, +And quaint Priapus with his company, _125 +All came, much wondering how the enwombed rocks +Could have brought forth so beautiful a birth;— +Her love subdued their wonder and their mirth. + +11. +The herdsmen and the mountain maidens came, +And the rude kings of pastoral Garamant— _130 +Their spirits shook within them, as a flame +Stirred by the air under a cavern gaunt: +Pigmies, and Polyphemes, by many a name, +Centaurs, and Satyrs, and such shapes as haunt +Wet clefts,—and lumps neither alive nor dead, _135 +Dog-headed, bosom-eyed, and bird-footed. + +12. +For she was beautiful—her beauty made +The bright world dim, and everything beside +Seemed like the fleeting image of a shade: +No thought of living spirit could abide, _140 +Which to her looks had ever been betrayed, +On any object in the world so wide, +On any hope within the circling skies, +But on her form, and in her inmost eyes. + +13. +Which when the lady knew, she took her spindle _145 +And twined three threads of fleecy mist, and three +Long lines of light, such as the dawn may kindle +The clouds and waves and mountains with; and she +As many star-beams, ere their lamps could dwindle +In the belated moon, wound skilfully; _150 +And with these threads a subtle veil she wove— +A shadow for the splendour of her love. + +14. +The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling +Were stored with magic treasures—sounds of air, +Which had the power all spirits of compelling, _155 +Folded in cells of crystal silence there; +Such as we hear in youth, and think the feeling +Will never die—yet ere we are aware, +The feeling and the sound are fled and gone, +And the regret they leave remains alone. _160 + +15. +And there lay Visions swift, and sweet, and quaint, +Each in its thin sheath, like a chrysalis, +Some eager to burst forth, some weak and faint +With the soft burthen of intensest bliss. +It was its work to bear to many a saint _165 +Whose heart adores the shrine which holiest is, +Even Love’s:—and others white, green, gray, and black, +And of all shapes—and each was at her beck. + +16. +And odours in a kind of aviary +Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, _170 +Clipped in a floating net, a love-sick Fairy +Had woven from dew-beams while the moon yet slept; +As bats at the wired window of a dairy, +They beat their vans; and each was an adept, +When loosed and missioned, making wings of winds, _175 +To stir sweet thoughts or sad, in destined minds. + +17. +And liquors clear and sweet, whose healthful might +Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep, +And change eternal death into a night +Of glorious dreams—or if eyes needs must weep, _180 +Could make their tears all wonder and delight, +She in her crystal vials did closely keep: +If men could drink of those clear vials, ’tis said +The living were not envied of the dead. + +18. +Her cave was stored with scrolls of strange device, _185 +The works of some Saturnian Archimage, +Which taught the expiations at whose price +Men from the Gods might win that happy age +Too lightly lost, redeeming native vice; +And which might quench the Earth-consuming rage _190 +Of gold and blood—till men should live and move +Harmonious as the sacred stars above; + +19. +And how all things that seem untameable, +Not to be checked and not to be confined, +Obey the spells of Wisdom’s wizard skill; _195 +Time, earth, and fire—the ocean and the wind, +And all their shapes—and man’s imperial will; +And other scrolls whose writings did unbind +The inmost lore of Love—let the profane +Tremble to ask what secrets they contain. _200 + +20. +And wondrous works of substances unknown, +To which the enchantment of her father’s power +Had changed those ragged blocks of savage stone, +Were heaped in the recesses of her bower; +Carved lamps and chalices, and vials which shone _205 +In their own golden beams—each like a flower, +Out of whose depth a fire-fly shakes his light +Under a cypress in a starless night. + +21. +At first she lived alone in this wild home, +And her own thoughts were each a minister, _210 +Clothing themselves, or with the ocean foam, +Or with the wind, or with the speed of fire, +To work whatever purposes might come +Into her mind; such power her mighty Sire +Had girt them with, whether to fly or run, _215 +Through all the regions which he shines upon. + +22. +The Ocean-nymphs and Hamadryades, +Oreads and Naiads, with long weedy locks, +Offered to do her bidding through the seas, +Under the earth, and in the hollow rocks, _220 +And far beneath the matted roots of trees, +And in the gnarled heart of stubborn oaks, +So they might live for ever in the light +Of her sweet presence—each a satellite. + +23. +‘This may not be,’ the wizard maid replied; _225 +‘The fountains where the Naiades bedew +Their shining hair, at length are drained and dried; +The solid oaks forget their strength, and strew +Their latest leaf upon the mountains wide; +The boundless ocean like a drop of dew _230 +Will be consumed—the stubborn centre must +Be scattered, like a cloud of summer dust. + +24. +‘And ye with them will perish, one by one;— +If I must sigh to think that this shall be, +If I must weep when the surviving Sun _235 +Shall smile on your decay—oh, ask not me +To love you till your little race is run; +I cannot die as ye must—over me +Your leaves shall glance—the streams in which ye dwell +Shall be my paths henceforth, and so—farewell!’— _240 + +25. +She spoke and wept:—the dark and azure well +Sparkled beneath the shower of her bright tears, +And every little circlet where they fell +Flung to the cavern-roof inconstant spheres +And intertangled lines of light:—a knell _245 +Of sobbing voices came upon her ears +From those departing Forms, o’er the serene +Of the white streams and of the forest green. + +26. +All day the wizard lady sate aloof, +Spelling out scrolls of dread antiquity, _250 +Under the cavern’s fountain-lighted roof; +Or broidering the pictured poesy +Of some high tale upon her growing woof, +Which the sweet splendour of her smiles could dye +In hues outshining heaven—and ever she _255 +Added some grace to the wrought poesy. + +27. +While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece +Of sandal wood, rare gums, and cinnamon; +Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is— +Each flame of it is as a precious stone _260 +Dissolved in ever-moving light, and this +Belongs to each and all who gaze upon. +The Witch beheld it not, for in her hand +She held a woof that dimmed the burning brand. + +28. +This lady never slept, but lay in trance _265 +All night within the fountain—as in sleep. +Its emerald crags glowed in her beauty’s glance; +Through the green splendour of the water deep +She saw the constellations reel and dance +Like fire-flies—and withal did ever keep _270 +The tenour of her contemplations calm, +With open eyes, closed feet, and folded palm. + +29. +And when the whirlwinds and the clouds descended +From the white pinnacles of that cold hill, +She passed at dewfall to a space extended, _275 +Where in a lawn of flowering asphodel +Amid a wood of pines and cedars blended, +There yawned an inextinguishable well +Of crimson fire—full even to the brim, +And overflowing all the margin trim. _280 + +30. +Within the which she lay when the fierce war +Of wintry winds shook that innocuous liquor +In many a mimic moon and bearded star +O’er woods and lawns;—the serpent heard it flicker +In sleep, and dreaming still, he crept afar— _285 +And when the windless snow descended thicker +Than autumn leaves, she watched it as it came +Melt on the surface of the level flame. + +31. +She had a boat, which some say Vulcan wrought +For Venus, as the chariot of her star; _290 +But it was found too feeble to be fraught +With all the ardours in that sphere which are, +And so she sold it, and Apollo bought +And gave it to this daughter: from a car +Changed to the fairest and the lightest boat _295 +Which ever upon mortal stream did float. + +32. +And others say, that, when but three hours old, +The first-born Love out of his cradle lept, +And clove dun Chaos with his wings of gold, +And like a horticultural adept, _300 +Stole a strange seed, and wrapped it up in mould, +And sowed it in his mother’s star, and kept +Watering it all the summer with sweet dew, +And with his wings fanning it as it grew. + +33. +The plant grew strong and green, the snowy flower _305 +Fell, and the long and gourd-like fruit began +To turn the light and dew by inward power +To its own substance; woven tracery ran +Of light firm texture, ribbed and branching, o’er +The solid rind, like a leaf’s veined fan— _310 +Of which Love scooped this boat—and with soft motion +Piloted it round the circumfluous ocean. + +34. +This boat she moored upon her fount, and lit +A living spirit within all its frame, +Breathing the soul of swiftness into it. _315 +Couched on the fountain like a panther tame, +One of the twain at Evan’s feet that sit— +Or as on Vesta’s sceptre a swift flame— +Or on blind Homer’s heart a winged thought,— +In joyous expectation lay the boat. _320 + +35. +Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow +Together, tempering the repugnant mass +With liquid love—all things together grow +Through which the harmony of love can pass; +And a fair Shape out of her hands did flow— _325 +A living Image, which did far surpass +In beauty that bright shape of vital stone +Which drew the heart out of Pygmalion. + +36. +A sexless thing it was, and in its growth +It seemed to have developed no defect _330 +Of either sex, yet all the grace of both,— +In gentleness and strength its limbs were decked; +The bosom swelled lightly with its full youth, +The countenance was such as might select +Some artist that his skill should never die, _335 +Imaging forth such perfect purity. + +37. +From its smooth shoulders hung two rapid wings, +Fit to have borne it to the seventh sphere, +Tipped with the speed of liquid lightenings, +Dyed in the ardours of the atmosphere: _340 +She led her creature to the boiling springs +Where the light boat was moored, and said: ‘Sit here!’ +And pointed to the prow, and took her seat +Beside the rudder, with opposing feet. + +38. +And down the streams which clove those mountains vast, _345 +Around their inland islets, and amid +The panther-peopled forests whose shade cast +Darkness and odours, and a pleasure hid +In melancholy gloom, the pinnace passed; +By many a star-surrounded pyramid _350 +Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky, +And caverns yawning round unfathomably. + +39. +The silver noon into that winding dell, +With slanted gleam athwart the forest tops, +Tempered like golden evening, feebly fell; _355 +A green and glowing light, like that which drops +From folded lilies in which glow-worms dwell, +When Earth over her face Night’s mantle wraps; +Between the severed mountains lay on high, +Over the stream, a narrow rift of sky. _360 + +40. +And ever as she went, the Image lay +With folded wings and unawakened eyes; +And o’er its gentle countenance did play +The busy dreams, as thick as summer flies, +Chasing the rapid smiles that would not stay, _365 +And drinking the warm tears, and the sweet sighs +Inhaling, which, with busy murmur vain, +They had aroused from that full heart and brain. + +41. +And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud +Upon a stream of wind, the pinnace went: _370 +Now lingering on the pools, in which abode +The calm and darkness of the deep content +In which they paused; now o’er the shallow road +Of white and dancing waters, all besprent +With sand and polished pebbles:—mortal boat _375 +In such a shallow rapid could not float. + +42. +And down the earthquaking cataracts which shiver +Their snow-like waters into golden air, +Or under chasms unfathomable ever +Sepulchre them, till in their rage they tear _380 +A subterranean portal for the river, +It fled—the circling sunbows did upbear +Its fall down the hoar precipice of spray, +Lighting it far upon its lampless way. + +43. +And when the wizard lady would ascend _385 +The labyrinths of some many-winding vale, +Which to the inmost mountain upward tend— +She called ‘Hermaphroditus!’—and the pale +And heavy hue which slumber could extend +Over its lips and eyes, as on the gale _390 +A rapid shadow from a slope of grass, +Into the darkness of the stream did pass. + +44. +And it unfurled its heaven-coloured pinions, +With stars of fire spotting the stream below; +And from above into the Sun’s dominions _395 +Flinging a glory, like the golden glow +In which Spring clothes her emerald-winged minions, +All interwoven with fine feathery snow +And moonlight splendour of intensest rime, +With which frost paints the pines in winter time. _400 + +45. +And then it winnowed the Elysian air +Which ever hung about that lady bright, +With its aethereal vans—and speeding there, +Like a star up the torrent of the night, +Or a swift eagle in the morning glare _405 +Breasting the whirlwind with impetuous flight, +The pinnace, oared by those enchanted wings, +Clove the fierce streams towards their upper springs. + +46. +The water flashed, like sunlight by the prow +Of a noon-wandering meteor flung to Heaven; _410 +The still air seemed as if its waves did flow +In tempest down the mountains; loosely driven +The lady’s radiant hair streamed to and fro: +Beneath, the billows having vainly striven +Indignant and impetuous, roared to feel _415 +The swift and steady motion of the keel. + +47. +Or, when the weary moon was in the wane, +Or in the noon of interlunar night, +The lady-witch in visions could not chain +Her spirit; but sailed forth under the light _420 +Of shooting stars, and bade extend amain +Its storm-outspeeding wings, the Hermaphrodite; +She to the Austral waters took her way, +Beyond the fabulous Thamondocana,— + +48. +Where, like a meadow which no scythe has shaven, _425 +Which rain could never bend, or whirl-blast shake, +With the Antarctic constellations paven, +Canopus and his crew, lay the Austral lake— +There she would build herself a windless haven +Out of the clouds whose moving turrets make _430 +The bastions of the storm, when through the sky +The spirits of the tempest thundered by: + +49. +A haven beneath whose translucent floor +The tremulous stars sparkled unfathomably, +And around which the solid vapours hoar, _435 +Based on the level waters, to the sky +Lifted their dreadful crags, and like a shore +Of wintry mountains, inaccessibly +Hemmed in with rifts and precipices gray, +And hanging crags, many a cove and bay. _440 + +50. +And whilst the outer lake beneath the lash +Of the wind’s scourge, foamed like a wounded thing, +And the incessant hail with stony clash +Ploughed up the waters, and the flagging wing +Of the roused cormorant in the lightning flash _445 +Looked like the wreck of some wind-wandering +Fragment of inky thunder-smoke—this haven +Was as a gem to copy Heaven engraven,— + +51. +On which that lady played her many pranks, +Circling the image of a shooting star, _450 +Even as a tiger on Hydaspes’ banks +Outspeeds the antelopes which speediest are, +In her light boat; and many quips and cranks +She played upon the water, till the car +Of the late moon, like a sick matron wan, _455 +To journey from the misty east began. + +52. +And then she called out of the hollow turrets +Of those high clouds, white, golden and vermilion, +The armies of her ministering spirits— +In mighty legions, million after million, _460 +They came, each troop emblazoning its merits +On meteor flags; and many a proud pavilion +Of the intertexture of the atmosphere +They pitched upon the plain of the calm mere. + +53. +They framed the imperial tent of their great Queen _465 +Of woven exhalations, underlaid +With lambent lightning-fire, as may be seen +A dome of thin and open ivory inlaid +With crimson silk—cressets from the serene +Hung there, and on the water for her tread _470 +A tapestry of fleece-like mist was strewn, +Dyed in the beams of the ascending moon. + +54. +And on a throne o’erlaid with starlight, caught +Upon those wandering isles of aery dew, +Which highest shoals of mountain shipwreck not, _475 +She sate, and heard all that had happened new +Between the earth and moon, since they had brought +The last intelligence—and now she grew +Pale as that moon, lost in the watery night— +And now she wept, and now she laughed outright. _480 + +55. +These were tame pleasures; she would often climb +The steepest ladder of the crudded rack +Up to some beaked cape of cloud sublime, +And like Arion on the dolphin’s back +Ride singing through the shoreless air;—oft-time _485 +Following the serpent lightning’s winding track, +She ran upon the platforms of the wind, +And laughed to hear the fire-balls roar behind. + +56. +And sometimes to those streams of upper air +Which whirl the earth in its diurnal round, _490 +She would ascend, and win the spirits there +To let her join their chorus. Mortals found +That on those days the sky was calm and fair, +And mystic snatches of harmonious sound +Wandered upon the earth where’er she passed, _495 +And happy thoughts of hope, too sweet to last. + +57. +But her choice sport was, in the hours of sleep, +To glide adown old Nilus, where he threads +Egypt and Aethiopia, from the steep +Of utmost Axume, until he spreads, _500 +Like a calm flock of silver-fleeced sheep, +His waters on the plain: and crested heads +Of cities and proud temples gleam amid, +And many a vapour-belted pyramid. + +58. +By Moeris and the Mareotid lakes, _505 +Strewn with faint blooms like bridal chamber floors, +Where naked boys bridling tame water-snakes, +Or charioteering ghastly alligators, +Had left on the sweet waters mighty wakes +Of those huge forms—within the brazen doors _510 +Of the great Labyrinth slept both boy and beast, +Tired with the pomp of their Osirian feast. + +59. +And where within the surface of the river +The shadows of the massy temples lie, +And never are erased—but tremble ever _515 +Like things which every cloud can doom to die, +Through lotus-paven canals, and wheresoever +The works of man pierced that serenest sky +With tombs, and towers, and fanes, ’twas her delight +To wander in the shadow of the night. _520 + +60. +With motion like the spirit of that wind +Whose soft step deepens slumber, her light feet +Passed through the peopled haunts of humankind. +Scattering sweet visions from her presence sweet, +Through fane, and palace-court, and labyrinth mined _525 +With many a dark and subterranean street +Under the Nile, through chambers high and deep +She passed, observing mortals in their sleep. + +61. +A pleasure sweet doubtless it was to see +Mortals subdued in all the shapes of sleep. _530 +Here lay two sister twins in infancy; +There, a lone youth who in his dreams did weep; +Within, two lovers linked innocently +In their loose locks which over both did creep +Like ivy from one stem;—and there lay calm _535 +Old age with snow-bright hair and folded palm. + +62. +But other troubled forms of sleep she saw, +Not to be mirrored in a holy song— +Distortions foul of supernatural awe, +And pale imaginings of visioned wrong; _540 +And all the code of Custom’s lawless law +Written upon the brows of old and young: +‘This,’ said the wizard maiden, ‘is the strife +Which stirs the liquid surface of man’s life.’ + +63. +And little did the sight disturb her soul.— _545 +We, the weak mariners of that wide lake +Where’er its shores extend or billows roll, +Our course unpiloted and starless make +O’er its wild surface to an unknown goal:— +But she in the calm depths her way could take, _550 +Where in bright bowers immortal forms abide +Beneath the weltering of the restless tide. + +64. +And she saw princes couched under the glow +Of sunlike gems; and round each temple-court +In dormitories ranged, row after row, _555 +She saw the priests asleep—all of one sort— +For all were educated to be so.— +The peasants in their huts, and in the port +The sailors she saw cradled on the waves, +And the dead lulled within their dreamless graves. _560 + +65. +And all the forms in which those spirits lay +Were to her sight like the diaphanous +Veils, in which those sweet ladies oft array +Their delicate limbs, who would conceal from us +Only their scorn of all concealment: they _565 +Move in the light of their own beauty thus. +But these and all now lay with sleep upon them, +And little thought a Witch was looking on them. + +66. +She, all those human figures breathing there, +Beheld as living spirits—to her eyes _570 +The naked beauty of the soul lay bare, +And often through a rude and worn disguise +She saw the inner form most bright and fair— +And then she had a charm of strange device, +Which, murmured on mute lips with tender tone, _575 +Could make that spirit mingle with her own. + +67. +Alas! Aurora, what wouldst thou have given +For such a charm when Tithon became gray? +Or how much, Venus, of thy silver heaven +Wouldst thou have yielded, ere Proserpina _580 +Had half (oh! why not all?) the debt forgiven +Which dear Adonis had been doomed to pay, +To any witch who would have taught you it? +The Heliad doth not know its value yet. + +68. +’Tis said in after times her spirit free _585 +Knew what love was, and felt itself alone— +But holy Dian could not chaster be +Before she stooped to kiss Endymion, +Than now this lady—like a sexless bee +Tasting all blossoms, and confined to none, _590 +Among those mortal forms, the wizard-maiden +Passed with an eye serene and heart unladen. + +69. +To those she saw most beautiful, she gave +Strange panacea in a crystal bowl:— +They drank in their deep sleep of that sweet wave, _595 +And lived thenceforward as if some control, +Mightier than life, were in them; and the grave +Of such, when death oppressed the weary soul, +Was as a green and overarching bower +Lit by the gems of many a starry flower. _600 + +70. +For on the night when they were buried, she +Restored the embalmers’ ruining, and shook +The light out of the funeral lamps, to be +A mimic day within that deathy nook; +And she unwound the woven imagery _605 +Of second childhood’s swaddling bands, and took +The coffin, its last cradle, from its niche, +And threw it with contempt into a ditch. + +71. +And there the body lay, age after age. +Mute, breathing, beating, warm, and undecaying, _610 +Like one asleep in a green hermitage, +With gentle smiles about its eyelids playing, +And living in its dreams beyond the rage +Of death or life; while they were still arraying +In liveries ever new, the rapid, blind _615 +And fleeting generations of mankind. + +72. +And she would write strange dreams upon the brain +Of those who were less beautiful, and make +All harsh and crooked purposes more vain +Than in the desert is the serpent’s wake _620 +Which the sand covers—all his evil gain +The miser in such dreams would rise and shake +Into a beggar’s lap;—the lying scribe +Would his own lies betray without a bribe. + +73. +The priests would write an explanation full, _625 +Translating hieroglyphics into Greek, +How the God Apis really was a bull, +And nothing more; and bid the herald stick +The same against the temple doors, and pull +The old cant down; they licensed all to speak _630 +Whate’er they thought of hawks, and cats, and geese, +By pastoral letters to each diocese. + +74. +The king would dress an ape up in his crown +And robes, and seat him on his glorious seat, +And on the right hand of the sunlike throne _635 +Would place a gaudy mock-bird to repeat +The chatterings of the monkey.—Every one +Of the prone courtiers crawled to kiss the feet +Of their great Emperor, when the morning came, +And kissed—alas, how many kiss the same! _640 + +75. +The soldiers dreamed that they were blacksmiths, and +Walked out of quarters in somnambulism; +Round the red anvils you might see them stand +Like Cyclopses in Vulcan’s sooty abysm, +Beating their swords to ploughshares;—in a band _645 +The gaolers sent those of the liberal schism +Free through the streets of Memphis, much, I wis, +To the annoyance of king Amasis. + +76. +And timid lovers who had been so coy, +They hardly knew whether they loved or not, _650 +Would rise out of their rest, and take sweet joy, +To the fulfilment of their inmost thought; +And when next day the maiden and the boy +Met one another, both, like sinners caught, +Blushed at the thing which each believed was done _655 +Only in fancy—till the tenth moon shone; + +77. +And then the Witch would let them take no ill: +Of many thousand schemes which lovers find, +The Witch found one,—and so they took their fill +Of happiness in marriage warm and kind. _660 +Friends who, by practice of some envious skill, +Were torn apart—a wide wound, mind from mind!— +She did unite again with visions clear +Of deep affection and of truth sincere. + +80. +These were the pranks she played among the cities _665 +Of mortal men, and what she did to Sprites +And Gods, entangling them in her sweet ditties +To do her will, and show their subtle sleights, +I will declare another time; for it is +A tale more fit for the weird winter nights _670 +Than for these garish summer days, when we +Scarcely believe much more than we can see. + +NOTES: +_2 dead]deaf cj. A.C. Bradley, who cps. “Adonais” 317. +_65 first was transcript, B.; was first edition 1824. +_84 Temple’s transcript, B.; tempest’s edition 1824. +_165 was its transcript, B.; is its edition 1824. +_184 envied so all manuscripts and editions; + envious cj. James Thomson (‘B. V.’). +_262 upon so all manuscripts and editions: thereon cj. Rossetti. +_333 swelled lightly edition 1824, B.; + lightly swelled editions 1839; + swelling lightly with its full growth transcript. +_339 lightenings B., editions 1839; lightnings edition 1824, transcript. +_422 Its transcript; His edition 1824, B. +_424 Thamondocana transcript, B.; Thamondocona edition 1824. +_442 wind’s transcript, B.; winds’ edition 1834. +_493 where transcript, B.; when edition 1824. +_596 thenceforward B.; + thence forth edition 1824; henceforward transcript. +_599 Was as a B.; Was a edition 1824. +_601 night when transcript; night that edition 1824, B. +_612 smiles transcript, B.; sleep edition 1824. + + +NOTE ON THE WITCH OF ATLAS, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +We spent the summer of 1820 at the Baths of San Giuliano, four miles +from Pisa. These baths were of great use to Shelley in soothing his +nervous irritability. We made several excursions in the neighbourhood. +The country around is fertile, and diversified and rendered +picturesque by ranges of near hills and more distant mountains. The +peasantry are a handsome intelligent race; and there was a gladsome +sunny heaven spread over us, that rendered home and every scene we +visited cheerful and bright. During some of the hottest days of +August, Shelley made a solitary journey on foot to the summit of Monte +San Pellegrino—a mountain of some height, on the top of which there +is a chapel, the object, during certain days of the year, of many +pilgrimages. The excursion delighted him while it lasted; though he +exerted himself too much, and the effect was considerable lassitude +and weakness on his return. During the expedition he conceived the +idea, and wrote, in the three days immediately succeeding to his +return, the “Witch of Atlas”. This poem is peculiarly characteristic +of his tastes—wildly fanciful, full of brilliant imagery, and +discarding human interest and passion, to revel in the fantastic ideas +that his imagination suggested. + +The surpassing excellence of “The Cenci” had made me greatly desire +that Shelley should increase his popularity by adopting subjects that +would more suit the popular taste than a poem conceived in the +abstract and dreamy spirit of the “Witch of Atlas”. It was not only +that I wished him to acquire popularity as redounding to his fame; but +I believed that he would obtain a greater mastery over his own powers, +and greater happiness in his mind, if public applause crowned his +endeavours. The few stanzas that precede the poem were addressed to me +on my representing these ideas to him. Even now I believe that I was +in the right. Shelley did not expect sympathy and approbation from the +public; but the want of it took away a portion of the ardour that +ought to have sustained him while writing. He was thrown on his own +resources, and on the inspiration of his own soul; and wrote because +his mind overflowed, without the hope of being appreciated. I had not +the most distant wish that he should truckle in opinion, or submit his +lofty aspirations for the human race to the low ambition and pride of +the many; but I felt sure that, if his poems were more addressed to +the common feelings of men, his proper rank among the writers of the +day would be acknowledged, and that popularity as a poet would enable +his countrymen to do justice to his character and virtues, which in +those days it was the mode to attack with the most flagitious +calumnies and insulting abuse. That he felt these things deeply cannot +be doubted, though he armed himself with the consciousness of acting +from a lofty and heroic sense of right. The truth burst from his heart +sometimes in solitude, and he would writes few unfinished verses that +showed that he felt the sting; among such I find the following:— + +‘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 +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!’ + +I believed that all this morbid feeling would vanish if the chord of +sympathy between him and his countrymen were touched. But my +persuasions were vain, the mind could not be bent from its natural +inclination. Shelley shrunk instinctively from portraying human +passion, with its mixture of good and evil, of disappointment and +disquiet. Such opened again the wounds of his own heart; and he loved +to shelter himself rather in the airiest flights of fancy, forgetting +love and hate, and regret and lost hope, in such imaginations as +borrowed their hues from sunrise or sunset, from the yellow moonshine +or paly twilight, from the aspect of the far ocean or the shadows of +the woods,—which celebrated the singing of the winds among the pines, +the flow of a murmuring stream, and the thousand harmonious sounds +which Nature creates in her solitudes. These are the materials which +form the “Witch of Atlas”: it is a brilliant congregation of ideas +such as his senses gathered, and his fancy coloured, during his +rambles in the sunny land he so much loved. + +*** + + +OEDIPUS TYRANNUS + +OR + +SWELLFOOT THE TYRANT. + +A TRAGEDY IN TWO ACTS + +TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL DORIC. + +‘Choose Reform or Civil War, +When through thy streets, instead of hare with dogs, +A CONSORT-QUEEN shall hunt a king with hogs, +Riding on the IONIAN MINOTAUR.’ + +[Begun at the Baths of San Giuliano, near Pisa, August 24, 1819; +published anonymously by J. Johnston, Cheapside (imprint C.F. +Seyfang), 1820. On a threat of prosecution the publisher surrendered +the whole impression, seven copies—the total number sold—excepted. +“Oedipus” does not appear in the first edition of the “Poetical +Works”, 1839, but it was included by Mrs. Shelley in the second +edition of that year. Our text is that of the editio princeps, 1820, +save in three places, where the reading of edition 1820 will be found +in the notes.] + +ADVERTISEMENT. + +This Tragedy is one of a triad, or system of three Plays (an +arrangement according to which the Greeks were accustomed to connect +their dramatic representations), elucidating the wonderful and +appalling fortunes of the SWELLFOOT dynasty. It was evidently written +by some LEARNED THEBAN, and, from its characteristic dulness, +apparently before the duties on the importation of ATTIC SALT had been +repealed by the Boeotarchs. The tenderness with which he treats the +PIGS proves him to have been a sus Boeotiae; possibly Epicuri de grege +porcus; for, as the poet observes, + +‘A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.’ + +No liberty has been taken with the translation of this remarkable +piece of antiquity, except the suppressing a seditious and blasphemous +Chorus of the Pigs and Bulls at the last Act. The work Hoydipouse (or +more properly Oedipus) has been rendered literally SWELLFOOT, without +its having been conceived necessary to determine whether a swelling of +the hind or the fore feet of the Swinish Monarch is particularly +indicated. + +Should the remaining portions of this Tragedy be found, entitled, +“Swellfoot in Angaria”, and “Charite”, the Translator might be tempted +to give them to the reading Public. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +TYRANT SWELLFOOT, KING OF THEBES. +IONA TAURINA, HIS QUEEN. +MAMMON, ARCH-PRIEST OF FAMINE. +PURGANAX, DAKRY, LAOCTONOS—WIZARDS, MINISTERS OF SWELLFOOT. +THE GADFLY. +THE LEECH. +THE RAT. +MOSES, THE SOW-GELDER. +SOLOMON, THE PORKMAN. +ZEPHANIAH, PIG-BUTCHER. +THE MINOTAUR. +CHORUS OF THE SWINISH MULTITUDE. +GUARDS, ATTENDANTS, PRIESTS, ETC., ETC. + +SCENE.—THEBES. + +ACT 1. + +SCENE 1.1.—A MAGNIFICENT TEMPLE, BUILT OF THIGH-BONES AND +DEATH’S-HEADS, AND TILED WITH SCALPS. OVER THE ALTAR THE STATUE OF +FAMINE, VEILED; A NUMBER OF BOARS, SOWS, AND SUCKING-PIGS, CROWNED +WITH THISTLE, SHAMROCK, AND OAK, SITTING ON THE STEPS, AND CLINGING +ROUND THE ALTAR OF THE TEMPLE. + +ENTER SWELLFOOT, IN HIS ROYAL ROBES, WITHOUT PERCEIVING THE PIGS. + +SWELLFOOT: +Thou supreme Goddess! by whose power divine +These graceful limbs are clothed in proud array +[HE CONTEMPLATES HIMSELF WITH SATISFACTION.] +Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunch +Swells like a sail before a favouring breeze, +And these most sacred nether promontories _5 +Lie satisfied with layers of fat; and these +Boeotian cheeks, like Egypt’s pyramid, +(Nor with less toil were their foundations laid), +Sustain the cone of my untroubled brain, +That point, the emblem of a pointless nothing! _10 +Thou to whom Kings and laurelled Emperors, +Radical-butchers, Paper-money-millers, +Bishops and Deacons, and the entire army +Of those fat martyrs to the persecution +Of stifling turtle-soup, and brandy-devils, _15 +Offer their secret vows! Thou plenteous Ceres +Of their Eleusis, hail! + +NOTE: +(_8 See Universal History for an account of the number of people who +died, and the immense consumption of garlic by the wretched Egyptians, +who made a sepulchre for the name as well as the bodies of their +tyrants.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +SWINE: +Eigh! eigh! eigh! eigh! + +SWELLFOOT: +Ha! what are ye, +Who, crowned with leaves devoted to the Furies, +Cling round this sacred shrine? + +SWINE: +Aigh! aigh! aigh! + +SWELLFOOT: +What! ye that are +The very beasts that, offered at her altar _20 +With blood and groans, salt-cake, and fat, and inwards, +Ever propitiate her reluctant will +When taxes are withheld? + +SWINE: +Ugh! ugh! ugh! + +SWELLFOOT: +What! ye who grub +With filthy snouts my red potatoes up +In Allan’s rushy bog? Who eat the oats _25 +Up, from my cavalry in the Hebrides? +Who swill the hog-wash soup my cooks digest +From bones, and rags, and scraps of shoe-leather, +Which should be given to cleaner Pigs than you? + +SWINE—SEMICHORUS 1: +The same, alas! the same; _30 +Though only now the name +Of Pig remains to me. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +If ’twere your kingly will +Us wretched Swine to kill, +What should we yield to thee? _35 + +SWELLFOOT: +Why, skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar. + +CHORUS OF SWINE: +I have heard your Laureate sing, +That pity was a royal thing; +Under your mighty ancestors, we Pigs +Were bless’d as nightingales on myrtle sprigs, _40 +Or grasshoppers that live on noonday dew, +And sung, old annals tell, as sweetly too; +But now our sties are fallen in, we catch +The murrain and the mange, the scab and itch; +Sometimes your royal dogs tear down our thatch, _45 +And then we seek the shelter of a ditch; +Hog-wash or grains, or ruta-baga, none +Has yet been ours since your reign begun. + +FIRST SOW: +My Pigs, ’tis in vain to tug. + +SECOND SOW: +I could almost eat my litter. _50 + +FIRST PIG: +I suck, but no milk will come from the dug. + +SECOND PIG: +Our skin and our bones would be bitter. + +THE BOARS: +We fight for this rag of greasy rug, +Though a trough of wash would be fitter. + +SEMICHORUS: +Happier Swine were they than we, _55 +Drowned in the Gadarean sea— +I wish that pity would drive out the devils, +Which in your royal bosom hold their revels, +And sink us in the waves of thy compassion! +Alas! the Pigs are an unhappy nation! _60 +Now if your Majesty would have our bristles +To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons +With rich blood, or make brawn out of our gristles, +In policy—ask else your royal Solons— +You ought to give us hog-wash and clean straw, _65 +And sties well thatched; besides it is the law! + +NOTE: +_59 thy edition 1820; your edition 1839. + +SWELLFOOT: +This is sedition, and rank blasphemy! +Ho! there, my guards! + +[ENTER A GUARD.] + +GUARD: +Your sacred Majesty. + +SWELLFOOT: +Call in the Jews, Solomon the court porkman, +Moses the sow-gelder, and Zephaniah _70 +The hog-butcher. + +GUARD: +They are in waiting, Sire. + +[ENTER SOLOMON, MOSES, AND ZEPHANIAH.] + +SWELLFOOT: +Out with your knife, old Moses, and spay those Sows +[THE PIGS RUN ABOUT IN CONSTERNATION.] +That load the earth with Pigs; cut close and deep. +Moral restraint I see has no effect, +Nor prostitution, nor our own example, _75 +Starvation, typhus-fever, war, nor prison— +This was the art which the arch-priest of Famine +Hinted at in his charge to the Theban clergy— +Cut close and deep, good Moses. + +MOSES: +Let your Majesty +Keep the Boars quiet, else— + +SWELLFOOT: +Zephaniah, cut _80 +That fat Hog’s throat, the brute seems overfed; +Seditious hunks! to whine for want of grains. + +ZEPHANIAH: +Your sacred Majesty, he has the dropsy;— +We shall find pints of hydatids in ‘s liver, +He has not half an inch of wholesome fat _85 +Upon his carious ribs— + +SWELLFOOT: +’Tis all the same, +He’ll serve instead of riot money, when +Our murmuring troops bivouac in Thebes’ streets +And January winds, after a day +Of butchering, will make them relish carrion. _90 +Now, Solomon, I’ll sell you in a lump +The whole kit of them. + +SOLOMON: +Why, your Majesty, +I could not give— + +SWELLFOOT: +Kill them out of the way, +That shall be price enough, and let me hear +Their everlasting grunts and whines no more! _95 + +[EXEUNT, DRIVING IN THE SWINE. +ENTER MAMM0N, THE ARCH-PRIEST, +AND PURGANAX, CHIEF OF THE COUNCIL OF WIZARDS.] + +PURGANAX: +The future looks as black as death, a cloud, +Dark as the frown of Hell, hangs over it— +The troops grow mutinous—the revenue fails— +There’s something rotten in us—for the level _100 +Of the State slopes, its very bases topple, +The boldest turn their backs upon themselves! + +MAMMON: +Why what’s the matter, my dear fellow, now? +Do the troops mutiny?—decimate some regiments; +Does money fail?—come to my mint—coin paper, +Till gold be at a discount, and ashamed _105 +To show his bilious face, go purge himself, +In emulation of her vestal whiteness. + +PURGANAX: +Oh, would that this were all! The oracle!! + +MAMMON: +Why it was I who spoke that oracle, +And whether I was dead drunk or inspired, _110 +I cannot well remember; nor, in truth, +The oracle itself! + +PURGANAX: +The words went thus:— +‘Boeotia, choose reform or civil war! +When through the streets, instead of hare with dogs, +A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs, _115 +Riding on the Ionian Minotaur.’ + +MAMMON: +Now if the oracle had ne’er foretold +This sad alternative, it must arrive, +Or not, and so it must now that it has; +And whether I was urged by grace divine _120 +Or Lesbian liquor to declare these words, +Which must, as all words must, be false or true, +It matters not: for the same Power made all, +Oracle, wine, and me and you—or none— +’Tis the same thing. If you knew as much _125 +Of oracles as I do— + +PURGANAX: +You arch-priests +Believe in nothing; if you were to dream +Of a particular number in the Lottery, +You would not buy the ticket? + +MAMMON: +Yet our tickets +Are seldom blanks. But what steps have you taken? _130 +For prophecies, when once they get abroad, +Like liars who tell the truth to serve their ends, +Or hypocrites who, from assuming virtue, +Do the same actions that the virtuous do, +Contrive their own fulfilment. This Iona— _135 +Well—you know what the chaste Pasiphae did, +Wife to that most religious King of Crete, +And still how popular the tale is here; +And these dull Swine of Thebes boast their descent +From the free Minotaur. You know they still _140 +Call themselves Bulls, though thus degenerate, +And everything relating to a Bull +Is popular and respectable in Thebes. +Their arms are seven Bulls in a field gules; +They think their strength consists in eating beef,— _145 +Now there were danger in the precedent +If Queen Iona— + +NOTES: +_114 the edition 1820; thy cj. Forman; + cf. Motto below Title, and II. i, 153-6. ticket? edition 1820; + ticket! edition 1839. +_135 their own Mrs. Shelley, later editions; + their editions 1820 and 1839. + +PURGANAX: +I have taken good care +That shall not be. I struck the crust o’ the earth +With this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare! +And from a cavern full of ugly shapes _150 +I chose a LEECH, a GADFLY, and a RAT. +The Gadfly was the same which Juno sent +To agitate Io, and which Ezekiel mentions +That the Lord whistled for out of the mountains +Of utmost Aethiopia, to torment _155 +Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast +Has a loud trumpet like the scarabee, +His crooked tail is barbed with many stings, +Each able to make a thousand wounds, and each +Immedicable; from his convex eyes _160 +He sees fair things in many hideous shapes, +And trumpets all his falsehood to the world. +Like other beetles he is fed on dung— +He has eleven feet with which he crawls, +Trailing a blistering slime, and this foul beast _165 +Has tracked Iona from the Theban limits, +From isle to isle, from city unto city, +Urging her flight from the far Chersonese +To fabulous Solyma, and the Aetnean Isle, +Ortygia, Melite, and Calypso’s Rock, _170 +And the swart tribes of Garamant and Fez, +Aeolia and Elysium, and thy shores, +Parthenope, which now, alas! are free! +And through the fortunate Saturnian land, +Into the darkness of the West. + +NOTES: +(_153 (Io) The Promethetes Bound of Aeschylus.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) +(_153 (Ezekiel) And the Lord whistled for the gadfly out of Aethiopia, +and for the bee of Egypt, etc.—EZEKIEL.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +MAMMON: +But if _175 +This Gadfly should drive Iona hither? + +PURGANAX: +Gods! what an IF! but there is my gray RAT: +So thin with want, he can crawl in and out +Of any narrow chink and filthy hole, +And he shall creep into her dressing-room, _180 +And— + +MAMMON: +My dear friend, where are your wits? as if +She does not always toast a piece of cheese +And bait the trap? and rats, when lean enough +To crawl through SUCH chinks— + +PURGANAX: +But my LEECH—a leech +Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings, _185 +Capaciously expatiative, which make +His little body like a red balloon, +As full of blood as that of hydrogen, +Sucked from men’s hearts; insatiably he sucks +And clings and pulls—a horse-leech, whose deep maw _190 +The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill, +And who, till full, will cling for ever. + +MAMMON: +This +For Queen Jona would suffice, and less; +But ’tis the Swinish multitude I fear, +And in that fear I have— + +PURGANAX: +Done what? + +MAMMON: +Disinherited _195 +My eldest son Chrysaor, because he +Attended public meetings, and would always +Stand prating there of commerce, public faith, +Economy, and unadulterate coin, +And other topics, ultra-radical; _200 +And have entailed my estate, called the Fool’s Paradise, +And funds in fairy-money, bonds, and bills, +Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina, +And married her to the gallows. [1] + +NOTE: +(_204 ‘If one should marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never +saw one so prone.—CYMBELINE.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.] + +PURGANAX: +A good match! + +MAMMON: +A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroom _205 +Is of a very ancient family, +Of Hounslow Heath, Tyburn, and the New Drop, +And has great influence in both Houses;—oh! +He makes the fondest husband; nay, TOO fond,— +New-married people should not kiss in public; _210 +But the poor souls love one another so! +And then my little grandchildren, the gibbets, +Promising children as you ever saw,— +The young playing at hanging, the elder learning +How to hold radicals. They are well taught too, _215 +For every gibbet says its catechism +And reads a select chapter in the Bible +Before it goes to play. + +[A MOST TREMENDOUS HUMMING IS HEARD.] + +PURGANAX: +Ha! what do I hear? + +[ENTER THE GADFLY.] + +MAMMON: +Your Gadfly, as it seems, is tired of gadding. + +GADFLY: +Hum! hum! hum! _220 +From the lakes of the Alps, and the cold gray scalps +Of the mountains, I come! +Hum! hum! hum! +From Morocco and Fez, and the high palaces +Of golden Byzantium; _225 +From the temples divine of old Palestine, +From Athens and Rome, +With a ha! and a hum! +I come! I come! + +All inn-doors and windows _230 +Were open to me: +I saw all that sin does, +Which lamps hardly see +That burn in the night by the curtained bed,— +The impudent lamps! for they blushed not red, _235 +Dinging and singing, +From slumber I rung her, +Loud as the clank of an ironmonger; +Hum! hum! hum! + +Far, far, far! _240 +With the trump of my lips, and the sting at my hips, +I drove her—afar! +Far, far, far! +From city to city, abandoned of pity, +A ship without needle or star;— _245 +Homeless she passed, like a cloud on the blast, +Seeking peace, finding war;— +She is here in her car, +From afar, and afar;— +Hum! hum! _250 + +I have stung her and wrung her, +The venom is working;— +And if you had hung her +With canting and quirking, +She could not be deader than she will be soon;— _255 +I have driven her close to you, under the moon, +Night and day, hum! hum! ha! +I have hummed her and drummed her +From place to place, till at last I have dumbed her, +Hum! hum! hum! _260 + +NOTE: +_260 Edd. 1820, 1839 have no stage direction after this line. + +[ENTER THE LEECH AND THE RAT.] + +LEECH: +I will suck +Blood or muck! +The disease of the state is a plethory, +Who so fit to reduce it as I? + +RAT: +I’ll slily seize and _265 +Let blood from her weasand,— +Creeping through crevice, and chink, and cranny, +With my snaky tail, and my sides so scranny. + +PURGANAX: +Aroint ye! thou unprofitable worm! +[TO THE LEECH.] +And thou, dull beetle, get thee back to hell! _270 +[TO THE GADFLY.] +To sting the ghosts of Babylonian kings, +And the ox-headed Io— + +SWINE (WITHIN): +Ugh, ugh, ugh! +Hail! Iona the divine, +We will be no longer Swine, +But Bulls with horns and dewlaps. + +RAT: +For, _275 +You know, my lord, the Minotaur— + +PURGANAX (FIERCELY): +Be silent! get to hell! or I will call +The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon, +This is a pretty business. + +[EXIT THE RAT.] + +MAMMON: +I will go +And spell some scheme to make it ugly then.— _280 + +[EXIT.] + +[ENTER SWELLFOOT.] + +SWELLFOOT: +She is returned! Taurina is in Thebes, +When Swellfoot wishes that she were in hell! +Oh, Hymen, clothed in yellow jealousy, +And waving o’er the couch of wedded kings +The torch of Discord with its fiery hair; _285 +This is thy work, thou patron saint of queens! +Swellfoot is wived! though parted by the sea, +The very name of wife had conjugal rights; +Her cursed image ate, drank, slept with me, +And in the arms of Adiposa oft 290 +Her memory has received a husband’s— +[A LOUD TUMULT, AND CRIES OF ‘IONA FOR EVER —NO SWELLFOOT!‘] +Hark! +How the Swine cry Iona Taurina; +I suffer the real presence; Purganax, +Off with her head! + +PURGANAX: +But I must first impanel +A jury of the Pigs. + +SWELLFOOT: +Pack them then. _295 + +PURGANAX: +Or fattening some few in two separate sties. +And giving them clean straw, tying some bits +Of ribbon round their legs—giving their Sows +Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass, +And their young Boars white and red rags, and tails _300 +Of cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowers +Between the ears of the old ones; and when +They are persuaded, that by the inherent virtue +Of these things, they are all imperial Pigs, +Good Lord! they’d rip each other’s bellies up, _305 +Not to say, help us in destroying her. + +SWELLFOOT: +This plan might be tried too;—where’s General Laoctonos? +[ENTER LAOCTONOS AND DAKRY.] +It is my royal pleasure +That you, Lord General, bring the head and body, +If separate it would please me better, hither _310 +Of Queen Iona. + +LAOCTONOS: +That pleasure I well knew, +And made a charge with those battalions bold, +Called, from their dress and grin, the royal apes, +Upon the Swine, who in a hollow square +Enclosed her, and received the first attack _315 +Like so many rhinoceroses, and then +Retreating in good order, with bare tusks +And wrinkled snouts presented to the foe, +Bore her in triumph to the public sty. +What is still worse, some Sows upon the ground _320 +Have given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin, +And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry, +‘Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!’ + +PURGANAX: +Hark! + +THE SWINE (WITHOUT): +Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot! + +DAKRY: +I +Went to the garret of the swineherd’s tower, _325 +Which overlooks the sty, and made a long +Harangue (all words) to the assembled Swine, +Of delicacy mercy, judgement, law, +Morals, and precedents, and purity, +Adultery, destitution, and divorce, _330 +Piety, faith, and state necessity, +And how I loved the Queen!—and then I wept +With the pathos of my own eloquence, +And every tear turned to a mill-stone, which +Brained many a gaping Pig, and there was made _335 +A slough of blood and brains upon the place, +Greased with the pounded bacon; round and round +The mill-stones rolled, ploughing the pavement up, +And hurling Sucking-Pigs into the air, +With dust and stones.— + +[ENTER MAMMON.] + +MAMMON: +I wonder that gray wizards _340 +Like you should be so beardless in their schemes; +It had been but a point of policy +To keep Iona and the Swine apart. +Divide and rule! but ye have made a junction +Between two parties who will govern you _345 +But for my art.—Behold this BAG! it is +The poison BAG of that Green Spider huge, +On which our spies skulked in ovation through +The streets of Thebes, when they were paved with dead: +A bane so much the deadlier fills it now _350 +As calumny is worse than death,—for here +The Gadfly’s venom, fifty times distilled, +Is mingled with the vomit of the Leech, +In due proportion, and black ratsbane, which +That very Rat, who, like the Pontic tyrant, _355 +Nurtures himself on poison, dare not touch;— +All is sealed up with the broad seal of Fraud, +Who is the Devil’s Lord High Chancellor, +And over it the Primate of all Hell +Murmured this pious baptism:—‘Be thou called _360 +The GREEN BAG; and this power and grace be thine: +That thy contents, on whomsoever poured, +Turn innocence to guilt, and gentlest looks +To savage, foul, and fierce deformity. +Let all baptized by thy infernal dew _365 +Be called adulterer, drunkard, liar, wretch! +No name left out which orthodoxy loves, +Court Journal or legitimate Review!— +Be they called tyrant, beast, fool, glutton, lover +Of other wives and husbands than their own— _370 +The heaviest sin on this side of the Alps! +Wither they to a ghastly caricature +Of what was human!—let not man or beast +Behold their face with unaverted eyes! +Or hear their names with ears that tingle not _375 +With blood of indignation, rage, and shame!’— +This is a perilous liquor;—good my Lords.— +[SWELLFOOT APPROACHES TO TOUCH THE GREEN BAG.] +Beware! for God’s sake, beware!-if you should break +The seal, and touch the fatal liquor— + +NOTE: +_373 or edition 1820; nor edition 1839. + +PURGANAX: +There, +Give it to me. I have been used to handle _380 +All sorts of poisons. His dread Majesty +Only desires to see the colour of it. + +MAMMON: +Now, with a little common sense, my Lords, +Only undoing all that has been done +(Yet so as it may seem we but confirm it), _385 +Our victory is assured. We must entice +Her Majesty from the sty, and make the Pigs +Believe that the contents of the GREEN BAG +Are the true test of guilt or innocence. +And that, if she be guilty, ‘twill transform her _390 +To manifest deformity like guilt. +If innocent, she will become transfigured +Into an angel, such as they say she is; +And they will see her flying through the air, +So bright that she will dim the noonday sun; _395 +Showering down blessings in the shape of comfits. +This, trust a priest, is just the sort of thing +Swine will believe. I’ll wager you will see them +Climbing upon the thatch of their low sties, +With pieces of smoked glass, to watch her sail _400 +Among the clouds, and some will hold the flaps +Of one another’s ears between their teeth, +To catch the coming hail of comfits in. +You, Purganax, who have the gift o’ the gab, +Make them a solemn speech to this effect: _405 +I go to put in readiness the feast +Kept to the honour of our goddess Famine, +Where, for more glory, let the ceremony +Take place of the uglification of the Queen. + +DAKRY (TO SWELLFOOT): +I, as the keeper of your sacred conscience, _410 +Humbly remind your Majesty that the care +Of your high office, as Man-milliner +To red Bellona, should not be deferred. + +PURGANAX: +All part, in happier plight to meet again. + +[EXEUNT.] + +END OF THE ACT 1. + + +ACT 2. + +SCENE 1.2: +THE PUBLIC STY. +THE BOARS IN FULL ASSEMBLY. +ENTER PURGANAX. + +PURGANAX: +Grant me your patience, Gentlemen and Boars, +Ye, by whose patience under public burthens +The glorious constitution of these sties +Subsists, and shall subsist. The Lean-Pig rates +Grow with the growing populace of Swine, _5 +The taxes, that true source of Piggishness +(How can I find a more appropriate term +To include religion, morals, peace, and plenty, +And all that fit Boeotia as a nation +To teach the other nations how to live?), _10 +Increase with Piggishness itself; and still +Does the revenue, that great spring of all +The patronage, and pensions, and by-payments, +Which free-born Pigs regard with jealous eyes, +Diminish, till at length, by glorious steps, _15 +All the land’s produce will be merged in taxes, +And the revenue will amount to—nothing! +The failure of a foreign market for +Sausages, bristles, and blood-puddings, +And such home manufactures, is but partial; _20 +And, that the population of the Pigs, +Instead of hog-wash, has been fed on straw +And water, is a fact which is—you know— +That is—it is a state-necessity— +Temporary, of course. Those impious Pigs, _25 +Who, by frequent squeaks, have dared impugn +The settled Swellfoot system, or to make +Irreverent mockery of the genuflexions +Inculcated by the arch-priest, have been whipped +Into a loyal and an orthodox whine. _30 +Things being in this happy state, the Queen +Iona— + +NOTE: +_16 land’s]lands edition 1820. + +A LOUD CRY FROM THE PIGS: +She is innocent! most innocent! + +PURGANAX: +That is the very thing that I was saying, +Gentlemen Swine; the Queen Iona being +Most innocent, no doubt, returns to Thebes, _35 +And the lean Sows and Bears collect about her, +Wishing to make her think that WE believe +(I mean those more substantial Pigs, who swill +Rich hog-wash, while the others mouth damp straw) +That she is guilty; thus, the Lean-Pig faction _40 +Seeks to obtain that hog-wash, which has been +Your immemorial right, and which I will +Maintain you in to the last drop of— + +A BOAR (INTERRUPTING HIM): +What +Does any one accuse her of? + +PURGANAX: +Why, no one +Makes ANY positive accusation;—but _45 +There were hints dropped, and so the privy wizards +Conceived that it became them to advise +His Majesty to investigate their truth;— +Not for his own sake; he could be content +To let his wife play any pranks she pleased, _50 +If, by that sufferance, HE could please the Pigs; +But then he fears the morals of the Swine, +The Sows especially, and what effect +It might produce upon the purity and +Religion of the rising generation _55 +Of Sucking-Pigs, if it could be suspected +That Queen Iona— + +[A PAUSE.] + +FIRST BOAR: +Well, go on; we long +To hear what she can possibly have done. + +PURGANAX: +Why, it is hinted, that a certain Bull— +Thus much is KNOWN:—the milk-white Bulls that feed _60 +Beside Clitumnus and the crystal lakes +Of the Cisalpine mountains, in fresh dews +Of lotus-grass and blossoming asphodel +Sleeking their silken hair, and with sweet breath +Loading the morning winds until they faint _65 +With living fragrance, are so beautiful!— +Well, _I_ say nothing;—but Europa rode +On such a one from Asia into Crete, +And the enamoured sea grew calm beneath +His gliding beauty. And Pasiphae, _70 +Iona’s grandmother,—but SHE is innocent! +And that both you and I, and all assert. + +FIRST BOAR: +Most innocent! + +PURGANAX: +Behold this BAG; a bag— + +SECOND BOAR: +Oh! no GREEN BAGS!! Jealousy’s eyes are green, +Scorpions are green, and water-snakes, and efts, _75 +And verdigris, and— + +PURGANAX: +Honourable Swine, +In Piggish souls can prepossessions reign? +Allow me to remind you, grass is green— +All flesh is grass;—no bacon but is flesh— +Ye are but bacon. This divining BAG _80 +(Which is not green, but only bacon colour) +Is filled with liquor, which if sprinkled o’er +A woman guilty of—we all know what— +Makes her so hideous, till she finds one blind +She never can commit the like again. _85 +If innocent, she will turn into an angel, +And rain down blessings in the shape of comfits +As she flies up to heaven. Now, my proposal +Is to convert her sacred Majesty +Into an angel (as I am sure we shall do), _90 +By pouring on her head this mystic water. +[SHOWING THE BAG.] +I know that she is innocent; I wish +Only to prove her so to all the world. + +FIRST BOAR: +Excellent, just, and noble Purganax. + +SECOND BOAR: +How glorious it will be to see her Majesty _95 +Flying above our heads, her petticoats +Streaming like—like—like— + +THIRD BOAR: +Anything. + +PURGANAX: +Oh no! +But like a standard of an admiral’s ship, +Or like the banner of a conquering host, +Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day, _100 +Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain; +Or like a meteor, or a war-steed’s mane, +Or waterfall from a dizzy precipice +Scattered upon the wind. + +FIRST BOAR: +Or a cow’s tail. + +SECOND BOAR: +Or ANYTHING, as the learned Boar observed. _105 + +PURGANAX: +Gentlemen Boars, I move a resolution, +That her most sacred Majesty should be +Invited to attend the feast of Famine, +And to receive upon her chaste white body +Dews of Apotheosis from this BAG. _110 + +[A GREAT CONFUSION IS HEARD OF THE PIGS OUT OF DOORS, WHICH +COMMUNICATES ITSELF TO THOSE WITHIN. DURING THE FIRST STROPHE, THE +DOORS OF THE STY ARE STAVED IN, AND A NUMBER OF EXCEEDINGLY LEAN PIGS +AND SOWS AND BOARS RUSH IN.] + +SEMICHORUS 1: +No! Yes! + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Yes! No! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +A law! + +SEMICHORUS 2: +A flaw! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Porkers, we shall lose our wash, _115 +Or must share it with the Lean-Pigs! + +FIRST BOAR: +Order! order! be not rash! +Was there ever such a scene, Pigs! + +AN OLD SOW (RUSHING IN): +I never saw so fine a dash +Since I first began to wean Pigs. _120 + +SECOND BOAR (SOLEMNLY): +The Queen will be an angel time enough. +I vote, in form of an amendment, that +Purganax rub a little of that stuff +Upon his face. + +PURGANAX [HIS HEART IS SEEN TO BEAT THROUGH HIS WAISTCOAT]: +Gods! What would ye be at? + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Purganax has plainly shown a _125 +Cloven foot and jackdaw feather. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +I vote Swellfoot and Iona +Try the magic test together; +Whenever royal spouses bicker, +Both should try the magic liquor. _130 + +AN OLD BOAR [ASIDE]: +A miserable state is that of Pigs, +For if their drivers would tear caps and wigs, +The Swine must bite each other’s ear therefore. + +AN OLD SOW [ASIDE]: +A wretched lot Jove has assigned to Swine, +Squabbling makes Pig-herds hungry, and they dine _135 +On bacon, and whip Sucking-Pigs the more. + +CHORUS: +Hog-wash has been ta’en away: +If the Bull-Queen is divested, +We shall be in every way +Hunted, stripped, exposed, molested; _140 +Let us do whate’er we may, +That she shall not be arrested. +QUEEN, we entrench you with walls of brawn, +And palisades of tusks, sharp as a bayonet: +Place your most sacred person here. We pawn _145 +Our lives that none a finger dare to lay on it. +Those who wrong you, wrong us; +Those who hate you, hate us; +Those who sting you, sting us; +Those who bait you, bait us; _150 +The ORACLE is now about to be +Fulfilled by circumvolving destiny; +Which says: ‘Thebes, choose REFORM or CIVIL WAR, +When through your streets, instead of hare with dogs, +A CONSORT QUEEN shall hunt a KING with Hogs, _155 +Riding upon the IONIAN MINOTAUR.’ + +NOTE: +_154 streets instead edition 1820. + +[ENTER IONA TAURINA.] + +IONA TAURINA (COMING FORWARD): +Gentlemen Swine, and gentle Lady-Pigs, +The tender heart of every Boar acquits +Their QUEEN, of any act incongruous +With native Piggishness, and she, reposing _160 +With confidence upon the grunting nation, +Has thrown herself, her cause, her life, her all, +Her innocence, into their Hoggish arms; +Nor has the expectation been deceived +Of finding shelter there. Yet know, great Boars, _165 +(For such whoever lives among you finds you, +And so do I), the innocent are proud! +I have accepted your protection only +In compliment of your kind love and care, +Not for necessity. The innocent _170 +Are safest there where trials and dangers wait; +Innocent Queens o’er white-hot ploughshares tread +Unsinged, and ladies, Erin’s laureate sings it, +Decked with rare gems, and beauty rarer still, +Walked from Killarney to the Giant’s Causeway, _175 +Through rebels, smugglers, troops of yeomanry, +White-boys and Orange-boys, and constables, +Tithe-proctors, and excise people, uninjured! +Thus I!— +Lord Purganax, I do commit myself _180 +Into your custody, and am prepared +To stand the test, whatever it may be! + +NOTE: +(_173 ‘Rich and rare were the gems she wore.’ See Moore’s “Irish +Melodies”.— [SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +PURGANAX: +This magnanimity in your sacred Majesty +Must please the Pigs. You cannot fail of being +A heavenly angel. Smoke your bits of glass, _185 +Ye loyal Swine, or her transfiguration +Will blind your wondering eyes. + +AN OLD BOAR [ASIDE]: +Take care, my Lord, +They do not smoke you first. + +PURGANAX: +At the approaching feast +Of Famine, let the expiation be. + +SWINE: +Content! content! + +IONA TAURINA [ASIDE]: +I, most content of all, _190 +Know that my foes even thus prepare their fall! + +[EXEUNT OMNES.] + +SCENE 2.2: +THE INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE OF FAMINE. +THE STATUE OF THE GODDESS, A SKELETON CLOTHED IN PARTI-COLOURED RAGS, +SEATED UPON A HEAP OF SKULLS AND LOAVES INTERMINGLED. +A NUMBER OF EXCEEDINGLY FAT PRIESTS IN BLACK GARMENTS ARRAYED ON EACH +SIDE, WITH MARROW-BONES AND CLEAVERS IN THEIR HANDS. +[SOLOMON, THE COURT PORKMAN.] +A FLOURISH OF TRUMPETS. + +ENTER MAMMON AS ARCH-PRIEST, SWELLFOOT, DAKRY, PURGANAX, LAOCTONOS, +FOLLOWED BY IONA TAURINA GUARDED. +ON THE OTHER SIDE ENTER THE SWINE. + +CHORUS OF PRIESTS, ACCOMPANIED BY THE COURT PORKMAN ON MARROW-BONES +AND CLEAVERS: +GODDESS bare, and gaunt, and pale, +Empress of the world, all hail! +What though Cretans old called thee +City-crested Cybele? +We call thee FAMINE! _5 +Goddess of fasts and feasts, starving and cramming! +Through thee, for emperors, kings, and priests and lords, +Who rule by viziers, sceptres, bank-notes, words, +The earth pours forth its plenteous fruits, +Corn, wool, linen, flesh, and roots— _10 +Those who consume these fruits through thee grow fat, +Those who produce these fruits through thee grow lean, +Whatever change takes place, oh, stick to that! +And let things be as they have ever been; +At least while we remain thy priests, _15 +And proclaim thy fasts and feasts. +Through thee the sacred SWELLFOOT dynasty +Is based upon a rock amid that sea +Whose waves are Swine—so let it ever be! + +[SWELLFOOT, ETC., SEAT THEMSELVES AT A TABLE MAGNIFICENTLY COVERED AT +THE UPPER END OF THE TEMPLE. +ATTENDANTS PASS OVER THE STAGE WITH HOG-WASH IN PAILS. +A NUMBER OF PIGS, EXCEEDINGLY LEAN, FOLLOW THEM LICKING UP THE WASH.] + +MAMMON: +I fear your sacred Majesty has lost _20 +The appetite which you were used to have. +Allow me now to recommend this dish— +A simple kickshaw by your Persian cook, +Such as is served at the great King’s second table. +The price and pains which its ingredients cost _25 +Might have maintained some dozen families +A winter or two—not more—so plain a dish +Could scarcely disagree.— + +SWELLFOOT: +After the trial, +And these fastidious Pigs are gone, perhaps +I may recover my lost appetite,— _30 +I feel the gout flying about my stomach— +Give me a glass of Maraschino punch. + +PURGANAX (FILLING HIS GLASS, AND STANDING UP): +The glorious Constitution of the Pigs! + +ALL: +A toast! a toast! stand up, and three times three! + +DAKRY: +No heel-taps—darken daylights! — + +LAOCTONOS: +Claret, somehow, _35 +Puts me in mind of blood, and blood of claret! + +SWELLFOOT: +Laoctonos is fishing for a compliment, +But ’tis his due. Yes, you have drunk more wine, +And shed more blood, than any man in Thebes. +[TO PURGANAX.] +For God’s sake stop the grunting of those Pigs! _40 + +PURGANAX: +We dare not, Sire, ’tis Famine’s privilege. + +CHORUS OF SWINE: +Hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine! +Thy throne is on blood, and thy robe is of rags; +Thou devil which livest on damning; +Saint of new churches, and cant, and GREEN BAGS, _45 +Till in pity and terror thou risest, +Confounding the schemes of the wisest; +When thou liftest thy skeleton form, +When the loaves and the skulls roll about, +We will greet thee-the voice of a storm _50 +Would be lost in our terrible shout! + +Then hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine! +Hail to thee, Empress of Earth! +When thou risest, dividing possessions; +When thou risest, uprooting oppressions, _55 +In the pride of thy ghastly mirth; +Over palaces, temples, and graves, +We will rush as thy minister-slaves, +Trampling behind in thy train, +Till all be made level again! _60 + +MAMMON: +I hear a crackling of the giant bones +Of the dread image, and in the black pits +Which once were eyes, I see two livid flames. +These prodigies are oracular, and show +The presence of the unseen Deity. _65 +Mighty events are hastening to their doom! + +SWELLFOOT: +I only hear the lean and mutinous Swine +Grunting about the temple. + +DAKRY: +In a crisis +Of such exceeding delicacy, I think +We ought to put her Majesty, the QUEEN, _70 +Upon her trial without delay. + +MAMMON: +THE BAG +Is here. + +PURGANAX: +I have rehearsed the entire scene +With an ox-bladder and some ditchwater, +On Lady P—; it cannot fail. +[TAKING UP THE BAG.] +Your Majesty +[TO SWELLFOOT.] +In such a filthy business had better _75 +Stand on one side, lest it should sprinkle you. +A spot or two on me would do no harm, +Nay, it might hide the blood, which the sad Genius +Of the Green Isle has fixed, as by a spell, +Upon my brow—which would stain all its seas, _80 +But which those seas could never wash away! + +IONA TAURINA: +My Lord, I am ready—nay, I am impatient +To undergo the test. +[A GRACEFUL FIGURE IN A SEMI-TRANSPARENT VEIL PASSES UNNOTICED THROUGH +THE TEMPLE; THE WORD “LIBERTY” IS SEEN THROUGH THE VEIL, AS IF IT WERE +WRITTEN IN FIRE UPON ITS FOREHEAD. ITS WORDS ARE ALMOST DROWNED IN THE +FURIOUS GRUNTING OF THE PIGS, AND THE BUSINESS OF THE TRIAL. SHE +KNEELS ON THE STEPS OF THE ALTAR, AND SPEAKS IN TONES AT FIRST FAINT +AND LOW, BUT WHICH EVER BECOME LOUDER AND LOUDER.] +Mighty Empress! Death’s white wife! +Ghastly mother-in-law of Life! _85 +By the God who made thee such, +By the magic of thy touch, +By the starving and the cramming +Of fasts and feasts! by thy dread self, O Famine! +I charge thee! when thou wake the multitude, _90 +Thou lead them not upon the paths of blood. +The earth did never mean her foison +For those who crown life’s cup with poison +Of fanatic rage and meaningless revenge— +But for those radiant spirits, who are still _95 +The standard-bearers in the van of Change. +Be they th’ appointed stewards, to fill +The lap of Pain, and Toil, and Age!— +Remit, O Queen! thy accustomed rage! +Be what thou art not! In voice faint and low _100 +FREEDOM calls “Famine”,—her eternal foe, +To brief alliance, hollow truce.—Rise now! + +[WHILST THE VEILED FIGURE HAS BEEN CHANTING THIS STROPHE, MAMMON, +DAKRY, LAOCTONOS, AND SWELLFOOT, HAVE SURROUNDED IONA TAURINA, WHO, +WITH HER HANDS FOLDED ON HER BREAST, AND HER EYES LIFTED TO HEAVEN, +STANDS, AS WITH SAINT-LIKE RESIGNATION, TO WAIT THE ISSUE OF THE +BUSINESS, IN PERFECT CONFIDENCE OF HER INNOCENCE.] + +[PURGANAX, AFTER UNSEALING THE GREEN BAG, IS GRAVELY ABOUT TO POUR THE +LIQUOR UPON HER HEAD, WHEN SUDDENLY THE WHOLE EXPRESSION OF HER FIGURE +AND COUNTENANCE CHANGES; SHE SNATCHES IT FROM HIS HAND WITH A LOUD +LAUGH OF TRIUMPH, AND EMPTIES IT OVER SWELLFOOT AND HIS WHOLE COURT, +WHO ARE INSTANTLY CHANGED INTO A NUMBER OF FILTHY AND UGLY ANIMALS, +AND RUSH OUT OF THE TEMPLE. THE IMAGE OF FAMINE THEN ARISES WITH A +TREMENDOUS SOUND, THE PIGS BEGIN SCRAMBLING FOR THE LOAVES, AND ARE +TRIPPED UP BY THE SKULLS; ALL THOSE WHO EAT THE LOAVES ARE TURNED INTO +BULLS, AND ARRANGE THEMSELVES QUIETLY BEHIND THE ALTAR. THE IMAGE OF +FAMINE SINKS THROUGH A CHASM IN THE EARTH, AND A MINOTAUR RISES.] + +MINOTAUR: +I am the Ionian Minotaur, the mightiest +Of all Europa’s taurine progeny— +I am the old traditional Man-Bull; _105 +And from my ancestors having been Ionian, +I am called Ion, which, by interpretation, +Is JOHN; in plain Theban, that is to say, +My name’s JOHN BULL; I am a famous hunter, +And can leaf any gate in all Boeotia, _110 +Even the palings of the royal park, +Or double ditch about the new enclosures; +And if your Majesty will deign to mount me, +At least till you have hunted down your game, +I will not throw you. _115 + +IONA TAURINA [DURING THIS SPEECH SHE HAS BEEN PUTTING ON BOOTS AND +SPURS, AND A HUNTING-CAP, BUCKISHLY COCKED ON ONE SIDE, AND TUCKING UP +HER HAIR, SHE LEAPS NIMBLY ON HIS BACK]: +Hoa! hoa! tallyho! tallyho! ho! ho! +Come, let us hunt these ugly badgers down, +These stinking foxes, these devouring otters, +These hares, these wolves, these anything but men. +Hey, for a whipper-in! my loyal Pigs +Now let your noses be as keen as beagles’, _120 +Your steps as swift as greyhounds’, and your cries +More dulcet and symphonious than the bells +Of village-towers, on sunshine holiday; +Wake all the dewy woods with jangling music. +Give them no law (are they not beasts of blood?) _125 +But such as they gave you. Tallyho! ho! +Through forest, furze, and bog, and den, and desert, +Pursue the ugly beasts! tallyho! ho! + +FULL CHORUS OF IONA AND THE SWINE: +Tallyho! tallyho! +Through rain, hail, and snow, _130 +Through brake, gorse, and briar, +Through fen, flood, and mire, +We go! we go! + +Tallyho! tallyho! +Through pond, ditch, and slough, _135 +Wind them, and find them, +Like the Devil behind them, +Tallyho! tallyho! + +[EXEUNT, IN FULL CRY; +IONA DRIVING ON THE SWINE, WITH THE EMPTY GEEEN BAG.] + +THE END. + + +NOTE ON OEDIPUS TYRANNUS, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +In the brief journal I kept in those days, I find recorded, in August, +1820, Shelley ‘begins “Swellfoot the Tyrant”, suggested by the pigs at +the fair of San Giuliano.’ This was the period of Queen Caroline’s +landing in England, and the struggles made by George IV to get rid of +her claims; which failing, Lord Castlereagh placed the “Green Bag” on +the table of the House of Commons, demanding in the King’s name that +an enquiry should be instituted into his wife’s conduct. These +circumstances were the theme of all conversation among the English. We +were then at the Baths of San Giuliano. A friend came to visit us on +the day when a fair was held in the square, beneath our windows: +Shelley read to us his “Ode to Liberty”; and was riotously accompanied +by the grunting of a quantity of pigs brought for sale to the fair. He +compared it to the ‘chorus of frogs’ in the satiric drama of +Aristophanes; and, it being an hour of merriment, and one ludicrous +association suggesting another, he imagined a political-satirical +drama on the circumstances of the day, to which the pigs would serve +as chorus—and “Swellfoot” was begun. When finished, it was +transmitted to England, printed, and published anonymously; but +stifled at the very dawn of its existence by the Society for the +Suppression of Vice, who threatened to prosecute it, if not +immediately withdrawn. The friend who had taken the trouble of +bringing it out, of course did not think it worth the annoyance and +expense of a contest, and it was laid aside. + +Hesitation of whether it would do honour to Shelley prevented my +publishing it at first. But I cannot bring myself to keep back +anything he ever wrote; for each word is fraught with the peculiar +views and sentiments which he believed to be beneficial to the human +race, and the bright light of poetry irradiates every thought. The +world has a right to the entire compositions of such a man; for it +does not live and thrive by the outworn lesson of the dullard or the +hypocrite, but by the original free thoughts of men of genius, who +aspire to pluck bright truth + +‘from the pale-faced moon; +Or dive into the bottom of the deep +Where fathom-line would never touch the ground, +And pluck up drowned’ + +truth. Even those who may dissent from his opinions will consider that +he was a man of genius, and that the world will take more interest in +his slightest word than in the waters of Lethe which are so eagerly +prescribed as medicinal for all its wrongs and woe. This drama, +however, must not be judged for more than was meant. It is a mere +plaything of the imagination; which even may not excite smiles among +many, who will not see wit in those combinations of thought which were +full of the ridiculous to the author. But, like everything he wrote, +it breathes that deep sympathy for the sorrows of humanity, and +indignation against its oppressors, which make it worthy of his name. + +*** + + +EPIPSYCHIDION. + +VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE NOBLE AND UNFORTUNATE LADY, EMILIA V—, + +NOW IMPRISONED IN THE CONVENT OF —. + +L’anima amante si slancia fuori del creato, e si crea nell’ infinito un +Mondo tutto per essa, diverso assai da questo oscuro e pauroso baratro. +HER OWN WORDS. + +[“Epipsychidion” was composed at Pisa, January, February, 1821, and +published without the author’s name, in the following summer, by C. & +J. Ollier, London. The poem was included by Mrs. Shelley in the +“Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions. Amongst the Shelley manuscripts +in the Bodleian is a first draft of “Epipsychidion”, ‘consisting of +three versions, more or less complete, of the “Preface +[Advertisement]”, a version in ink and pencil, much cancelled, of the +last eighty lines of the poem, and some additional lines which did not +appear in print’ (“Examination of the Shelley manuscripts in the +Bodleian Library, by C.D. Locock”. Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1903, page +3). This draft, the writing of which is ‘extraordinarily confused and +illegible,’ has been carefully deciphered and printed by Mr. Locock in +the volume named above. Our text follows that of the editio princeps, +1821.] + +ADVERTISEMENT. + +The Writer of the following lines died at Florence, as he was +preparing for a voyage to one of the wildest of the Sporades, which he +had bought, and where he had fitted up the ruins of an old building, +and where it was his hope to have realised a scheme of life, suited +perhaps to that happier and better world of which he is now an +inhabitant, but hardly practicable in this. His life was singular; +less on account of the romantic vicissitudes which diversified it, +than the ideal tinge which it received from his own character and +feelings. The present Poem, like the “Vita Nuova” of Dante, is +sufficiently intelligible to a certain class of readers without a +matter-of-fact history of the circumstances to which it relates and to +a certain other class it must ever remain incomprehensible, from a +defect of a common organ of perception for the ideas of which it +treats. Not but that gran vergogna sarebbe a colui, che rimasse cosa +sotto veste di figura, o di colore rettorico: e domandato non sapesse +denudare le sue parole da cotal veste, in guisa che avessero verace +intendimento. + +The present poem appears to have been intended by the Writer as the +dedication to some longer one. The stanza on the opposite page [1] is +almost a literal translation from Dante’s famous Canzone + +Voi, ch’ intendendo, il terzo ciel movete, etc. + +The presumptuous application of the concluding lines to his own +composition will raise a smile at the expense of my unfortunate +friend: be it a smile not of contempt, but pity. S. + +[1] i.e. the nine lines which follow, beginning, ‘My Song, I fear,’ +etc.—ED. + +My Song, I fear that thou wilt find but few +Who fitly shalt conceive thy reasoning, +Of such hard matter dost thou entertain; +Whence, if by misadventure, chance should bring +Thee to base company (as chance may do), _5 +Quite unaware of what thou dost contain, +I prithee, comfort thy sweet self again, +My last delight! tell them that they are dull, +And bid them own that thou art beautiful. + + +EPIPSYCHIDION. + +Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan one, +Whose empire is the name thou weepest on, +In my heart’s temple I suspend to thee +These votive wreaths of withered memory. + +Poor captive bird! who, from thy narrow cage, _5 +Pourest such music, that it might assuage +The rugged hearts of those who prisoned thee, +Were they not deaf to all sweet melody; +This song shall be thy rose: its petals pale +Are dead, indeed, my adored Nightingale! _10 +But soft and fragrant is the faded blossom, +And it has no thorn left to wound thy bosom. + +High, spirit-winged Heart! who dost for ever +Beat thine unfeeling bars with vain endeavour, +Till those bright plumes of thought, in which arrayed _15 +It over-soared this low and worldly shade, +Lie shattered; and thy panting, wounded breast +Stains with dear blood its unmaternal nest! +I weep vain tears: blood would less bitter be, +Yet poured forth gladlier, could it profit thee. _20 + +Seraph of Heaven! too gentle to be human, +Veiling beneath that radiant form of Woman +All that is insupportable in thee +Of light, and love, and immortality! +Sweet Benediction in the eternal Curse! _25 +Veiled Glory of this lampless Universe! +Thou Moon beyond the clouds! Thou living Form +Among the Dead! Thou Star above the Storm! +Thou Wonder, and thou Beauty, and thou Terror! +Thou Harmony of Nature’s art! Thou Mirror _30 +In whom, as in the splendour of the Sun, +All shapes look glorious which thou gazest on! +Ay, even the dim words which obscure thee now +Flash, lightning-like, with unaccustomed glow; +I pray thee that thou blot from this sad song _35 +All of its much mortality and wrong, +With those clear drops, which start like sacred dew +From the twin lights thy sweet soul darkens through, +Weeping, till sorrow becomes ecstasy: +Then smile on it, so that it may not die. _40 + +I never thought before my death to see +Youth’s vision thus made perfect. Emily, +I love thee; though the world by no thin name +Will hide that love from its unvalued shame. +Would we two had been twins of the same mother! _45 +Or, that the name my heart lent to another +Could be a sister’s bond for her and thee, +Blending two beams of one eternity! +Yet were one lawful and the other true, +These names, though dear, could paint not, as is due. _50 +How beyond refuge I am thine. Ah me! +I am not thine: I am a part of THEE. + +Sweet Lamp! my moth-like Muse has burned its wings +Or, like a dying swan who soars and sings, +Young Love should teach Time, in his own gray style, _55 +All that thou art. Art thou not void of guile, +A lovely soul formed to be blessed and bless? +A well of sealed and secret happiness, +Whose waters like blithe light and music are, +Vanquishing dissonance and gloom? A Star _60 +Which moves not in the moving heavens, alone? +A Smile amid dark frowns? a gentle tone +Amid rude voices? a beloved light? +A Solitude, a Refuge, a Delight? +A Lute, which those whom Love has taught to play _65 +Make music on, to soothe the roughest day +And lull fond Grief asleep? a buried treasure? +A cradle of young thoughts of wingless pleasure? +A violet-shrouded grave of Woe?—I measure +The world of fancies, seeking one like thee, _70 +And find—alas! mine own infirmity. + +She met me, Stranger, upon life’s rough way, +And lured me towards sweet Death; as Night by Day, +Winter by Spring, or Sorrow by swift Hope, +Led into light, life, peace. An antelope, _75 +In the suspended impulse of its lightness, +Were less aethereally light: the brightness +Of her divinest presence trembles through +Her limbs, as underneath a cloud of dew +Embodied in the windless heaven of June _80 +Amid the splendour-winged stars, the Moon +Burns, inextinguishably beautiful: +And from her lips, as from a hyacinth full +Of honey-dew, a liquid murmur drops, +Killing the sense with passion; sweet as stops _85 +Of planetary music heard in trance. +In her mild lights the starry spirits dance, +The sunbeams of those wells which ever leap +Under the lightnings of the soul—too deep +For the brief fathom-line of thought or sense. _90 +The glory of her being, issuing thence, +Stains the dead, blank, cold air with a warm shade +Of unentangled intermixture, made +By Love, of light and motion: one intense +Diffusion, one serene Omnipresence, _95 +Whose flowing outlines mingle in their flowing, +Around her cheeks and utmost fingers glowing +With the unintermitted blood, which there +Quivers, (as in a fleece of snow-like air +The crimson pulse of living morning quiver,) _100 +Continuously prolonged, and ending never, +Till they are lost, and in that Beauty furled +Which penetrates and clasps and fills the world; +Scarce visible from extreme loveliness. +Warm fragrance seems to fall from her light dress _105 +And her loose hair; and where some heavy tress +The air of her own speed has disentwined, +The sweetness seems to satiate the faint wind; +And in the soul a wild odour is felt +Beyond the sense, like fiery dews that melt _110 +Into the bosom of a frozen bud.— +See where she stands! a mortal shape indued +With love and life and light and deity, +And motion which may change but cannot die; +An image of some bright Eternity; _115 +A shadow of some golden dream; a Splendour +Leaving the third sphere pilotless; a tender +Reflection of the eternal Moon of Love +Under whose motions life’s dull billows move; +A Metaphor of Spring and Youth and Morning; _120 +A Vision like incarnate April, warning, +With smiles and tears, Frost the Anatomy +Into his summer grave. +Ah, woe is me! +What have I dared? where am I lifted? how +Shall I descend, and perish not? I know _125 +That Love makes all things equal: I have heard +By mine own heart this joyous truth averred: +The spirit of the worm beneath the sod +In love and worship, blends itself with God. + +Spouse! Sister! Angel! Pilot of the Fate _130 +Whose course has been so starless! O too late +Beloved! O too soon adored, by me! +For in the fields of Immortality +My spirit should at first have worshipped thine, +A divine presence in a place divine; _135 +Or should have moved beside it on this earth, +A shadow of that substance, from its birth; +But not as now:—I love thee; yes, I feel +That on the fountain of my heart a seal +Is set, to keep its waters pure and bright _140 +For thee, since in those TEARS thou hast delight. +We—are we not formed, as notes of music are, +For one another, though dissimilar; +Such difference without discord, as can make +Those sweetest sounds, in which all spirits shake _145 +As trembling leaves in a continuous air? + +Thy wisdom speaks in me, and bids me dare +Beacon the rocks on which high hearts are wrecked. +I never was attached to that great sect, +Whose doctrine is, that each one should select _150 +Out of the crowd a mistress or a friend, +And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend +To cold oblivion, though it is in the code +Of modern morals, and the beaten road +Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread, _155 +Who travel to their home among the dead +By the broad highway of the world, and so +With one chained friend, perhaps a jealous foe, +The dreariest and the longest journey go. + +True Love in this differs from gold and clay, _160 +That to divide is not to take away. +Love is like understanding, that grows bright, +Gazing on many truths; ’tis like thy light, +Imagination! which from earth and sky, +And from the depths of human fantasy, _165 +As from a thousand prisms and mirrors, fills +The Universe with glorious beams, and kills +Error, the worm, with many a sun-like arrow +Of its reverberated lightning. Narrow +The heart that loves, the brain that contemplates, _170 +The life that wears, the spirit that creates +One object, and one form, and builds thereby +A sepulchre for its eternity. + +Mind from its object differs most in this: +Evil from good; misery from happiness; _175 +The baser from the nobler; the impure +And frail, from what is clear and must endure. +If you divide suffering and dross, you may +Diminish till it is consumed away; +If you divide pleasure and love and thought, _180 +Each part exceeds the whole; and we know not +How much, while any yet remains unshared, +Of pleasure may be gained, of sorrow spared: +This truth is that deep well, whence sages draw +The unenvied light of hope; the eternal law _185 +By which those live, to whom this world of life +Is as a garden ravaged, and whose strife +Tills for the promise of a later birth +The wilderness of this Elysian earth. + +There was a Being whom my spirit oft _190 +Met on its visioned wanderings, far aloft, +In the clear golden prime of my youth’s dawn, +Upon the fairy isles of sunny lawn, +Amid the enchanted mountains, and the caves +Of divine sleep, and on the air-like waves _195 +Of wonder-level dream, whose tremulous floor +Paved her light steps;—on an imagined shore, +Under the gray beak of some promontory +She met me, robed in such exceeding glory, +That I beheld her not. In solitudes _200 +Her voice came to me through the whispering woods, +And from the fountains, and the odours deep +Of flowers, which, like lips murmuring in their sleep +Of the sweet kisses which had lulled them there, +Breathed but of HER to the enamoured air; _205 +And from the breezes whether low or loud, +And from the rain of every passing cloud, +And from the singing of the summer-birds, +And from all sounds, all silence. In the words +Of antique verse and high romance,—in form, _210 +Sound, colour—in whatever checks that Storm +Which with the shattered present chokes the past; +And in that best philosophy, whose taste +Makes this cold common hell, our life, a doom +As glorious as a fiery martyrdom; _215 +Her Spirit was the harmony of truth.— + +Then, from the caverns of my dreamy youth +I sprang, as one sandalled with plumes of fire, +And towards the lodestar of my one desire, +I flitted, like a dizzy moth, whose flight _220 +Is as a dead leaf’s in the owlet light, +When it would seek in Hesper’s setting sphere +A radiant death, a fiery sepulchre, +As if it were a lamp of earthly flame.— +But She, whom prayers or tears then could not tame, _225 +Passed, like a God throned on a winged planet, +Whose burning plumes to tenfold swiftness fan it, +Into the dreary cone of our life’s shade; +And as a man with mighty loss dismayed, +I would have followed, though the grave between _230 +Yawned like a gulf whose spectres are unseen: +When a voice said:—‘O thou of hearts the weakest, +The phantom is beside thee whom thou seekest.’ +Then I—‘Where?’—the world’s echo answered ‘where?’ +And in that silence, and in my despair, _235 +I questioned every tongueless wind that flew +Over my tower of mourning, if it knew +Whither ’twas fled, this soul out of my soul; +And murmured names and spells which have control +Over the sightless tyrants of our fate; _240 +But neither prayer nor verse could dissipate +The night which closed on her; nor uncreate +That world within this Chaos, mine and me, +Of which she was the veiled Divinity, +The world I say of thoughts that worshipped her: _245 +And therefore I went forth, with hope and fear +And every gentle passion sick to death, +Feeding my course with expectation’s breath, +Into the wintry forest of our life; +And struggling through its error with vain strife, _250 +And stumbling in my weakness and my haste, +And half bewildered by new forms, I passed, +Seeking among those untaught foresters +If I could find one form resembling hers, +In which she might have masked herself from me. _255 +There,—One, whose voice was venomed melody +Sate by a well, under blue nightshade bowers: +The breath of her false mouth was like faint flowers, +Her touch was as electric poison,—flame +Out of her looks into my vitals came, _260 +And from her living cheeks and bosom flew +A killing air, which pierced like honey-dew +Into the core of my green heart, and lay +Upon its leaves; until, as hair grown gray +O’er a young brow, they hid its unblown prime _265 +With ruins of unseasonable time. + +In many mortal forms I rashly sought +The shadow of that idol of my thought. +And some were fair—but beauty dies away: +Others were wise—but honeyed words betray: _270 +And One was true—oh! why not true to me? +Then, as a hunted deer that could not flee, +I turned upon my thoughts, and stood at bay, +Wounded and weak and panting; the cold day +Trembled, for pity of my strife and pain. _275 +When, like a noonday dawn, there shone again +Deliverance. One stood on my path who seemed +As like the glorious shape which I had dreamed +As is the Moon, whose changes ever run +Into themselves, to the eternal Sun; _280 +The cold chaste Moon, the Queen of Heaven’s bright isles, +Who makes all beautiful on which she smiles, +That wandering shrine of soft yet icy flame +Which ever is transformed, yet still the same, +And warms not but illumines. Young and fair _285 +As the descended Spirit of that sphere, +She hid me, as the Moon may hide the night +From its own darkness, until all was bright +Between the Heaven and Earth of my calm mind, +And, as a cloud charioted by the wind, _290 +She led me to a cave in that wild place, +And sate beside me, with her downward face +Illumining my slumbers, like the Moon +Waxing and waning o’er Endymion. +And I was laid asleep, spirit and limb, _295 +And all my being became bright or dim +As the Moon’s image in a summer sea, +According as she smiled or frowned on me; +And there I lay, within a chaste cold bed: +Alas, I then was nor alive nor dead:— _300 +For at her silver voice came Death and Life, +Unmindful each of their accustomed strife, +Masked like twin babes, a sister and a brother, +The wandering hopes of one abandoned mother, +And through the cavern without wings they flew, _305 +And cried ‘Away, he is not of our crew.’ +I wept, and though it be a dream, I weep. + +What storms then shook the ocean of my sleep, +Blotting that Moon, whose pale and waning lips +Then shrank as in the sickness of eclipse;— _310 +And how my soul was as a lampless sea, +And who was then its Tempest; and when She, +The Planet of that hour, was quenched, what frost +Crept o’er those waters, till from coast to coast +The moving billows of my being fell _315 +Into a death of ice, immovable;— +And then—what earthquakes made it gape and split, +The white Moon smiling all the while on it, +These words conceal:—If not, each word would be +The key of staunchless tears. Weep not for me! _320 + +At length, into the obscure Forest came +The Vision I had sought through grief and shame. +Athwart that wintry wilderness of thorns +Flashed from her motion splendour like the Morn’s, +And from her presence life was radiated _325 +Through the gray earth and branches bare and dead; +So that her way was paved, and roofed above +With flowers as soft as thoughts of budding love; +And music from her respiration spread +Like light,—all other sounds were penetrated _330 +By the small, still, sweet spirit of that sound, +So that the savage winds hung mute around; +And odours warm and fresh fell from her hair +Dissolving the dull cold in the frore air: +Soft as an Incarnation of the Sun, _335 +When light is changed to love, this glorious One +Floated into the cavern where I lay, +And called my Spirit, and the dreaming clay +Was lifted by the thing that dreamed below +As smoke by fire, and in her beauty’s glow _340 +I stood, and felt the dawn of my long night +Was penetrating me with living light: +I knew it was the Vision veiled from me +So many years—that it was Emily. + +Twin Spheres of light who rule this passive Earth, _345 +This world of loves, this ME; and into birth +Awaken all its fruits and flowers, and dart +Magnetic might into its central heart; +And lift its billows and its mists, and guide +By everlasting laws, each wind and tide _350 +To its fit cloud, and its appointed cave; +And lull its storms, each in the craggy grave +Which was its cradle, luring to faint bowers +The armies of the rainbow-winged showers; +And, as those married lights, which from the towers _355 +Of Heaven look forth and fold the wandering globe +In liquid sleep and splendour, as a robe; +And all their many-mingled influence blend, +If equal, yet unlike, to one sweet end;— +So ye, bright regents, with alternate sway _360 +Govern my sphere of being, night and day! +Thou, not disdaining even a borrowed might; +Thou, not eclipsing a remoter light; +And, through the shadow of the seasons three, +From Spring to Autumn’s sere maturity, _365 +Light it into the Winter of the tomb, +Where it may ripen to a brighter bloom. +Thou too, O Comet beautiful and fierce, +Who drew the heart of this frail Universe +Towards thine own; till, wrecked in that convulsion, _370 +Alternating attraction and repulsion, +Thine went astray and that was rent in twain; +Oh, float into our azure heaven again! +Be there Love’s folding-star at thy return; +The living Sun will feed thee from its urn _375 +Of golden fire; the Moon will veil her horn +In thy last smiles; adoring Even and Morn +Will worship thee with incense of calm breath +And lights and shadows; as the star of Death +And Birth is worshipped by those sisters wild _380 +Called Hope and Fear—upon the heart are piled +Their offerings,—of this sacrifice divine +A World shall be the altar. +Lady mine, +Scorn not these flowers of thought, the fading birth +Which from its heart of hearts that plant puts forth _385 +Whose fruit, made perfect by thy sunny eyes, +Will be as of the trees of Paradise. + +The day is come, and thou wilt fly with me. +To whatsoe’er of dull mortality +Is mine, remain a vestal sister still; _390 +To the intense, the deep, the imperishable, +Not mine but me, henceforth be thou united +Even as a bride, delighting and delighted. +The hour is come:—the destined Star has risen +Which shall descend upon a vacant prison. _395 +The walls are high, the gates are strong, thick set +The sentinels—but true Love never yet +Was thus constrained: it overleaps all fence: +Like lightning, with invisible violence +Piercing its continents; like Heaven’s free breath, _400 +Which he who grasps can hold not; liker Death, +Who rides upon a thought, and makes his way +Through temple, tower, and palace, and the array +Of arms: more strength has Love than he or they; +For it can burst his charnel, and make free _405 +The limbs in chains, the heart in agony, +The soul in dust and chaos. +Emily, +A ship is floating in the harbour now, +A wind is hovering o’er the mountain’s brow; +There is a path on the sea’s azure floor, _410 +No keel has ever ploughed that path before; +The halcyons brood around the foamless isles; +The treacherous Ocean has forsworn its wiles; +The merry mariners are bold and free: +Say, my heart’s sister, wilt thou sail with me? _415 +Our bark is as an albatross, whose nest +Is a far Eden of the purple East; +And we between her wings will sit, while Night, +And Day, and Storm, and Calm, pursue their flight, +Our ministers, along the boundless Sea, _420 +Treading each other’s heels, unheededly. +It is an isle under Ionian skies, +Beautiful as a wreck of Paradise, +And, for the harbours are not safe and good, +This land would have remained a solitude _425 +But for some pastoral people native there, +Who from the Elysian, clear, and golden air +Draw the last spirit of the age of gold, +Simple and spirited; innocent and bold. +The blue Aegean girds this chosen home, _430 +With ever-changing sound and light and foam, +Kissing the sifted sands, and caverns hoar; +And all the winds wandering along the shore +Undulate with the undulating tide: +There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide; _435 +And many a fountain, rivulet, and pond, +As clear as elemental diamond, +Or serene morning air; and far beyond, +The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer +(Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year) _440 +Pierce into glades, caverns, and bowers, and halls +Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls +Illumining, with sound that never fails +Accompany the noonday nightingales; +And all the place is peopled with sweet airs; _445 +The light clear element which the isle wears +Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers, +Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers. +And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep; +And from the moss violets and jonquils peep, _450 +And dart their arrowy odour through the brain +Till you might faint with that delicious pain. +And every motion, odour, beam and tone, +With that deep music is in unison: +Which is a soul within the soul—they seem _455 +Like echoes of an antenatal dream.— +It is an isle ’twixt Heaven, Air, Earth, and Sea, +Cradled, and hung in clear tranquillity; +Bright as that wandering Eden Lucifer, +Washed by the soft blue Oceans of young air. _460 +It is a favoured place. Famine or Blight, +Pestilence, War and Earthquake, never light +Upon its mountain-peaks; blind vultures, they +Sail onward far upon their fatal way: +The winged storms, chanting their thunder-psalm _465 +To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm +Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew, +From which its fields and woods ever renew +Their green and golden immortality. +And from the sea there rise, and from the sky _470 +There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright. +Veil after veil, each hiding some delight, +Which Sun or Moon or zephyr draw aside, +Till the isle’s beauty, like a naked bride +Glowing at once with love and loveliness, _475 +Blushes and trembles at its own excess: +Yet, like a buried lamp, a Soul no less +Burns in the heart of this delicious isle, +An atom of th’ Eternal, whose own smile +Unfolds itself, and may be felt, not seen _480 +O’er the gray rocks, blue waves, and forests green, +Filling their bare and void interstices.— +But the chief marvel of the wilderness +Is a lone dwelling, built by whom or how +None of the rustic island-people know: _485 +’Tis not a tower of strength, though with its height +It overtops the woods; but, for delight, +Some wise and tender Ocean-King, ere crime +Had been invented, in the world’s young prime, +Reared it, a wonder of that simple time, _490 +An envy of the isles, a pleasure-house +Made sacred to his sister and his spouse. +It scarce seems now a wreck of human art, +But, as it were Titanic; in the heart +Of Earth having assumed its form, then grown _495 +Out of the mountains, from the living stone, +Lifting itself in caverns light and high: +For all the antique and learned imagery +Has been erased, and in the place of it +The ivy and the wild-vine interknit _500 +The volumes of their many-twining stems; +Parasite flowers illume with dewy gems +The lampless halls, and when they fade, the sky +Peeps through their winter-woof of tracery +With moonlight patches, or star atoms keen, _505 +Or fragments of the day’s intense serene;— +Working mosaic on their Parian floors. +And, day and night, aloof, from the high towers +And terraces, the Earth and Ocean seem +To sleep in one another’s arms, and dream _510 +Of waves, flowers, clouds, woods, rocks, and all that we +Read in their smiles, and call reality. + +This isle and house are mine, and I have vowed +Thee to be lady of the solitude.— +And I have fitted up some chambers there _515 +Looking towards the golden Eastern air, +And level with the living winds, which flow +Like waves above the living waves below.— +I have sent books and music there, and all +Those instruments with which high Spirits call _520 +The future from its cradle, and the past +Out of its grave, and make the present last +In thoughts and joys which sleep, but cannot die, +Folded within their own eternity. +Our simple life wants little, and true taste _525 +Hires not the pale drudge Luxury, to waste +The scene it would adorn, and therefore still, +Nature with all her children haunts the hill. +The ring-dove, in the embowering ivy, yet +Keeps up her love-lament, and the owls flit _530 +Round the evening tower, and the young stars glance +Between the quick bats in their twilight dance; +The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight +Before our gate, and the slow, silent night +Is measured by the pants of their calm sleep. _535 +Be this our home in life, and when years heap +Their withered hours, like leaves, on our decay, +Let us become the overhanging day, +The living soul of this Elysian isle, +Conscious, inseparable, one. Meanwhile _540 +We two will rise, and sit, and walk together, +Under the roof of blue Ionian weather, +And wander in the meadows, or ascend +The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend +With lightest winds, to touch their paramour; _545 +Or linger, where the pebble-paven shore, +Under the quick, faint kisses of the sea +Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy,— +Possessing and possessed by all that is +Within that calm circumference of bliss, _550 +And by each other, till to love and live +Be one:—or, at the noontide hour, arrive +Where some old cavern hoar seems yet to keep +The moonlight of the expired night asleep, +Through which the awakened day can never peep; _555 +A veil for our seclusion, close as night’s, +Where secure sleep may kill thine innocent lights: +Sleep, the fresh dew of languid love, the rain +Whose drops quench kisses till they burn again. +And we will talk, until thought’s melody _560 +Become too sweet for utterance, and it die +In words, to live again in looks, which dart +With thrilling tone into the voiceless heart, +Harmonizing silence without a sound. +Our breath shall intermix, our bosoms bound, _565 +And our veins beat together; and our lips +With other eloquence than words, eclipse +The soul that burns between them, and the wells +Which boil under our being’s inmost cells, +The fountains of our deepest life, shall be _570 +Confused in Passion’s golden purity, +As mountain-springs under the morning sun. +We shall become the same, we shall be one +Spirit within two frames, oh! wherefore two? +One passion in twin-hearts, which grows and grew, _575 +Till like two meteors of expanding flame, +Those spheres instinct with it become the same, +Touch, mingle, are transfigured; ever still +Burning, yet ever inconsumable: +In one another’s substance finding food, _580 +Like flames too pure and light and unimbued +To nourish their bright lives with baser prey, +Which point to Heaven and cannot pass away: +One hope within two wills, one will beneath +Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death, _585 +One Heaven, one Hell, one immortality, +And one annihilation. Woe is me! +The winged words on which my soul would pierce +Into the height of Love’s rare Universe, +Are chains of lead around its flight of fire— _590 +I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire! + +... + +Weak Verses, go, kneel at your Sovereign’s feet, +And say:—‘We are the masters of thy slave; +What wouldest thou with us and ours and thine?’ +Then call your sisters from Oblivion’s cave, _595 +All singing loud: ‘Love’s very pain is sweet, +But its reward is in the world divine +Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.’ +So shall ye live when I am there. Then haste +Over the hearts of men, until ye meet _600 +Marina, Vanna, Primus, and the rest, +And bid them love each other and be blessed: +And leave the troop which errs, and which reproves, +And come and be my guest,—for I am Love’s. + +NOTES: +_100 morning]morn may Rossetti cj. +_118 of]on edition 1839. +_405 it]he edition 1839. +_501 many-twining]many twining editio prin. 1821. +_504 winter-woof]inter-woof Rossetti cj. + + +FRAGMENTS CONNECTED WITH EPIPSYCHIDION. + +[Of the fragments of verse that follow, lines 1-37, 62-92 were printed +by Mrs. Shelley in “Posthumous Works”, 1839, 2nd edition; lines 1-174 +were printed or reprinted by Dr. Garnett in “Relics of Shelley”, 1862; +and lines 175-186 were printed by Mr. C.D. Locock from the first draft +of “Epipsychidion” amongst the Shelley manuscripts in the Bodleian +Library. See “Examination, etc.”, 1903, pages 12, 13. The three early +drafts of the “Preface (Advertisement)” were printed by Mr. Locock in +the same volume, pages 4, 5.] + + +THREE EARLY DRAFTS OF THE PREFACE. + +(ADVERTISEMENT.) + +PREFACE 1. + +The following Poem was found amongst other papers in the Portfolio of +a young Englishman with whom the Editor had contracted an intimacy at +Florence, brief indeed, but sufficiently long to render the +Catastrophe by which it terminated one of the most painful events of +his life.— + +The literary merit of the Poem in question may not be considerable; +but worse verses are printed every day, & + +He was an accomplished & amiable person but his error was, thuntos on +un thunta phronein,—his fate is an additional proof that ‘The tree of +Knowledge is not that of Life.’—He had framed to himself certain +opinions, founded no doubt upon the truth of things, but built up to a +Babel height; they fell by their own weight, & the thoughts that were +his architects, became unintelligible one to the other, as men upon +whom confusion of tongues has fallen. + +[These] verses seem to have been written as a sort of dedication of +some work to have been presented to the person whom they address: but +his papers afford no trace of such a work—The circumstances to which +[they] the poem allude, may easily be understood by those to whom +[the] spirit of the poem itself is [un]intelligible: a detail of +facts, sufficiently romantic in [themselves but] their combinations + +The melancholy [task] charge of consigning the body of my poor friend +to the grave, was committed to me by his desolated family. I caused +him to be buried in a spot selected by himself, & on the h + + +PREFACE 2. + +[Epips] T. E. V. Epipsych +Lines addressed to +the Noble Lady +[Emilia] [E. V.] +Emilia + +[The following Poem was found in the PF. of a young Englishman, who +died on his passage from Leghorn to the Levant. He had bought one of +the Sporades] He was accompanied by a lady [who might have been] +supposed to be his wife, & an effeminate looking youth, to whom he +shewed an [attachment] so [singular] excessive an attachment as to +give rise to the suspicion, that she was a woman—At his death this +suspicion was confirmed;...object speedily found a refuge both from +the taunts of the brute multitude, and from the...of her grief in the +same grave that contained her lover.—He had bought one of the +Sporades, & fitted up a Saracenic castle which accident had preserved +in some repair with simple elegance, & it was his intention to +dedicate the remainder of his life to undisturbed intercourse with his +companions + +These verses apparently were intended as a dedication of a longer poem +or series of poems + + +PREFACE 3. + +The writer of these lines died at Florence in [January 1820] while he +was preparing * * for one wildest of the of the Sporades, where he +bought & fitted up the ruins of some old building—His life was +singular, less on account of the romantic vicissitudes which +diversified it, than the ideal tinge which they received from his own +character & feelings— + +The verses were apparently intended by the writer to accompany some +longer poem or collection of poems, of which there* [are no remnants +in his] * * * remains [in his] portfolio.— + +The editor is induced to + +The present poem, like the vita Nova of Dante, is sufficiently +intelligible to a certain class of readers without a matter of fact +history of the circumstances to which it relate, & to a certain other +class, it must & ought ever to remain incomprehensible—It was +evidently intended to be prefixed to a longer poem or series of +poems—but among his papers there are no traces of such a collection. + + +PASSAGES OF THE POEM, OR CONNECTED THEREWITH. + +Here, my dear friend, is a new book for you; +I have already dedicated two +To other friends, one female and one male,— +What you are, is a thing that I must veil; +What can this be to those who praise or rail? _5 +I never was attached to that great sect +Whose doctrine is that each one should select +Out of the world a mistress or a friend, +And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend +To cold oblivion—though ’tis in the code _10 +Of modern morals, and the beaten road +Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread +Who travel to their home among the dead +By the broad highway of the world—and so +With one sad friend, and many a jealous foe, _15 +The dreariest and the longest journey go. + +Free love has this, different from gold and clay, +That to divide is not to take away. +Like ocean, which the general north wind breaks +Into ten thousand waves, and each one makes _20 +A mirror of the moon—like some great glass, +Which did distort whatever form might pass, +Dashed into fragments by a playful child, +Which then reflects its eyes and forehead mild; +Giving for one, which it could ne’er express, _25 +A thousand images of loveliness. + +If I were one whom the loud world held wise, +I should disdain to quote authorities +In commendation of this kind of love:— +Why there is first the God in heaven above, _30 +Who wrote a book called Nature, ’tis to be +Reviewed, I hear, in the next Quarterly; +And Socrates, the Jesus Christ of Greece, +And Jesus Christ Himself, did never cease +To urge all living things to love each other, _35 +And to forgive their mutual faults, and smother +The Devil of disunion in their souls. + +... + +I love you!—Listen, O embodied Ray +Of the great Brightness; I must pass away +While you remain, and these light words must be _40 +Tokens by which you may remember me. +Start not—the thing you are is unbetrayed, +If you are human, and if but the shade +Of some sublimer spirit... + +... + +And as to friend or mistress, ’tis a form; _45 +Perhaps I wish you were one. Some declare +You a familiar spirit, as you are; +Others with a ... more inhuman +Hint that, though not my wife, you are a woman; +What is the colour of your eyes and hair? _50 +Why, if you were a lady, it were fair +The world should know—but, as I am afraid, +The Quarterly would bait you if betrayed; +And if, as it will be sport to see them stumble +Over all sorts of scandals. hear them mumble _55 +Their litany of curses—some guess right, +And others swear you’re a Hermaphrodite; +Like that sweet marble monster of both sexes, +Which looks so sweet and gentle that it vexes +The very soul that the soul is gone _60 +Which lifted from her limbs the veil of stone. + +... + +It is a sweet thing, friendship, a dear balm, +A happy and auspicious bird of calm, +Which rides o’er life’s ever tumultuous Ocean; +A God that broods o’er chaos in commotion; _65 +A flower which fresh as Lapland roses are, +Lifts its bold head into the world’s frore air, +And blooms most radiantly when others die, +Health, hope, and youth, and brief prosperity; +And with the light and odour of its bloom, _70 +Shining within the dun eon and the tomb; +Whose coming is as light and music are +‘Mid dissonance and gloom—a star +Which moves not ‘mid the moving heavens alone— +A smile among dark frowns—a gentle tone _75 +Among rude voices, a beloved light, +A solitude, a refuge, a delight. +If I had but a friend! Why, I have three +Even by my own confession; there may be +Some more, for what I know, for ’tis my mind _80 +To call my friends all who are wise and kind,- +And these, Heaven knows, at best are very few; +But none can ever be more dear than you. +Why should they be? My muse has lost her wings, +Or like a dying swan who soars and sings, _85 +I should describe you in heroic style, +But as it is, are you not void of guile? +A lovely soul, formed to be blessed and bless: +A well of sealed and secret happiness; +A lute which those whom Love has taught to play _90 +Make music on to cheer the roughest day, +And enchant sadness till it sleeps?... + +... + +To the oblivion whither I and thou, +All loving and all lovely, hasten now +With steps, ah, too unequal! may we meet _95 +In one Elysium or one winding-sheet! + +If any should be curious to discover +Whether to you I am a friend or lover, +Let them read Shakespeare’s sonnets, taking thence +A whetstone for their dull intelligence _100 +That tears and will not cut, or let them guess +How Diotima, the wise prophetess, +Instructed the instructor, and why he +Rebuked the infant spirit of melody +On Agathon’s sweet lips, which as he spoke _105 +Was as the lovely star when morn has broke +The roof of darkness, in the golden dawn, +Half-hidden, and yet beautiful. +I’ll pawn +My hopes of Heaven-you know what they are worth — +That the presumptuous pedagogues of Earth, _110 +If they could tell the riddle offered here +Would scorn to be, or being to appear +What now they seem and are—but let them chide, +They have few pleasures in the world beside; +Perhaps we should be dull were we not chidden, _115 +Paradise fruits are sweetest when forbidden. +Folly can season Wisdom, Hatred Love. + +... + +Farewell, if it can be to say farewell +To those who + +... + +I will not, as most dedicators do, _120 +Assure myself and all the world and you, +That you are faultless—would to God they were +Who taunt me with your love! I then should wear +These heavy chains of life with a light spirit, +And would to God I were, or even as near it _125 +As you, dear heart. Alas! what are we? Clouds +Driven by the wind in warring multitudes, +Which rain into the bosom of the earth, +And rise again, and in our death and birth, +And through our restless life, take as from heaven _130 +Hues which are not our own, but which are given, +And then withdrawn, and with inconstant glance +Flash from the spirit to the countenance. +There is a Power, a Love, a Joy, a God +Which makes in mortal hearts its brief abode, _135 +A Pythian exhalation, which inspires +Love, only love—a wind which o’er the wires +Of the soul’s giant harp +There is a mood which language faints beneath; +You feel it striding, as Almighty Death _140 +His bloodless steed... + +... + +And what is that most brief and bright delight +Which rushes through the touch and through the sight, +And stands before the spirit’s inmost throne, +A naked Seraph? None hath ever known. _145 +Its birth is darkness, and its growth desire; +Untameable and fleet and fierce as fire, +Not to be touched but to be felt alone, +It fills the world with glory-and is gone. + +... + +It floats with rainbow pinions o’er the stream _150 +Of life, which flows, like a ... dream +Into the light of morning, to the grave +As to an ocean... + +... + +What is that joy which serene infancy +Perceives not, as the hours content them by, _155 +Each in a chain of blossoms, yet enjoys +The shapes of this new world, in giant toys +Wrought by the busy ... ever new? +Remembrance borrows Fancy’s glass, to show +These forms more ... sincere _160 +Than now they are, than then, perhaps, they were. +When everything familiar seemed to be +Wonderful, and the immortality +Of this great world, which all things must inherit, +Was felt as one with the awakening spirit, _165 +Unconscious of itself, and of the strange +Distinctions which in its proceeding change +It feels and knows, and mourns as if each were +A desolation... + +... + +Were it not a sweet refuge, Emily, _170 +For all those exiles from the dull insane +Who vex this pleasant world with pride and pain, +For all that band of sister-spirits known +To one another by a voiceless tone? + +... + +If day should part us night will mend division _175 +And if sleep parts us—we will meet in vision +And if life parts us—we will mix in death +Yielding our mite [?] of unreluctant breath +Death cannot part us—we must meet again +In all in nothing in delight in pain: _180 +How, why or when or where—it matters not +So that we share an undivided lot... + +... + +And we will move possessing and possessed +Wherever beauty on the earth’s bare [?] breast +Lies like the shadow of thy soul—till we _185 +Become one being with the world we see... + +NOTES: +_52-_53 afraid The cj. A.C. Bradley. +_54 And as cj. Rossetti, A.C. Bradley. +_61 stone... cj. A.C. Bradley. +_155 them]trip or troop cj. A.C. Bradley. +_157 in]as cj. A.C. Bradley. + +*** + + +ADONAIS. + +AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN KEATS, +AUTHOR OF ENDYMION, HYPERION, ETC. + +Aster prin men elampes eni zooisin Eoos +nun de thanon lampeis Esperos en phthimenois.—PLATO. + +[“Adonais” was composed at Pisa during the early days of June, 1821, +and printed, with the author’s name, at Pisa, ‘with the types of +Didot,’ by July 13, 1821. Part of the impression was sent to the +brothers Ollier for sale in London. An exact reprint of this Pisa +edition (a few typographical errors only being corrected) was issued +in 1829 by Gee & Bridges, Cambridge, at the instance of Arthur Hallam +and Richard Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton). The poem was included in +Galignani’s edition of “Coleridge, Shelley and Keats”, Paris, 1829, +and by Mrs. Shelley in the “Poetical Works” of 1839. Mrs. Shelley’s +text presents three important variations from that of the editio +princeps. In 1876 an edition of the “Adonais”, with Introduction and +Notes, was printed for private circulation by Mr. H. Buxton Forman, +C.B. Ten years later a reprint ‘in exact facsimile’ of the Pisa +edition was edited with a Bibliographical Introduction by Mr. T.J. +Wise (“Shelley Society Publications”, 2nd Series, No. 1, Reeves & +Turner, London, 1886). Our text is that of the editio princeps, Pisa, +1821, modified by Mrs. Shelley’s text of 1839. The readings of the +editio princeps, wherever superseded, are recorded in the footnotes. +The Editor’s Notes at the end of the Volume 3 should be consulted.] + +PREFACE. + +Pharmakon elthe, Bion, poti son stoma, pharmakon eides. +pos ten tois cheilessi potesrame, kouk eglukanthe; +tis de Brotos tossouton anameros, e kerasai toi, +e dounai laleonti to pharmakon; ekphugen odan. +—MOSCHUS, EPITAPH. BION. + +It is my intention to subjoin to the London edition of this poem a +criticism upon the claims of its lamented object to be classed among +the writers of the highest genius who have adorned our age. My known +repugnance to the narrow principles of taste on which several of his +earlier compositions were modelled prove at least that I am an +impartial judge. I consider the fragment of “Hyperion” as second to +nothing that was ever produced by a writer of the same years. + +John Keats died at Rome of a consumption, in his twenty-fourth year, +on the — of — 1821; and was buried in the romantic and lonely +cemetery of the Protestants in that city, under the pyramid which is +the tomb of Cestius, and the massy walls and towers, now mouldering +and desolate, which formed the circuit of ancient Rome. The cemetery +is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and +daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one +should be buried in so sweet a place. + +The genius of the lamented person to whose memory I have dedicated +these unworthy verses was not less delicate and fragile than it was +beautiful; and where cankerworms abound, what wonder if its young +flower was blighted in the bud? The savage criticism on his +“Endymion”, which appeared in the “Quarterly Review”, produced the +most violent effect on his susceptible mind; the agitation thus +originated ended in the rupture of a blood-vessel in the lungs; a +rapid consumption ensued, and the succeeding acknowledgements from +more candid critics of the true greatness of his powers were +ineffectual to heal the wound thus wantonly inflicted. + +It may be well said that these wretched men know not what they do. +They scatter their insults and their slanders without heed as to +whether the poisoned shaft lights on a heart made callous by many +blows or one like Keats’s composed of more penetrable stuff. One of +their associates is, to my knowledge, a most base and unprincipled +calumniator. As to “Endymion”, was it a poem, whatever might be its +defects, to be treated contemptuously by those who had celebrated, +with various degrees of complacency and panegyric, “Paris”, and +“Woman”, and a “Syrian Tale”, and Mrs. Lefanu, and Mr. Barrett, and +Mr. Howard Payne, and a long list of the illustrious obscure? Are +these the men who in their venal good nature presumed to draw a +parallel between the Reverend Mr. Milman and Lord Byron? What gnat did +they strain at here, after having swallowed all those camels? Against +what woman taken in adultery dares the foremost of these literary +prostitutes to cast his opprobrious stone? Miserable man! you, one of +the meanest, have wantonly defaced one of the noblest specimens of the +workmanship of God. Nor shall it be your excuse, that, murderer as you +are, you have spoken daggers, but used none. + +The circumstances of the closing scene of poor Keats’s life were not +made known to me until the “Elegy” was ready for the press. I am given +to understand that the wound which his sensitive spirit had received +from the criticism of “Endymion” was exasperated by the bitter sense +of unrequited benefits; the poor fellow seems to have been hooted from +the stage of life, no less by those on whom he had wasted the promise +of his genius, than those on whom he had lavished his fortune and his +care. He was accompanied to Rome, and attended in his last illness by +Mr. Severn, a young artist of the highest promise, who, I have been +informed, ‘almost risked his own life, and sacrificed every prospect +to unwearied attendance upon his dying friend.’ Had I known these +circumstances before the completion of my poem, I should have been +tempted to add my feeble tribute of applause to the more solid +recompense which the virtuous man finds in the recollection of his own +motives. Mr. Severn can dispense with a reward from ‘such stuff as +dreams are made of.’ His conduct is a golden augury of the success of +his future career—may the unextinguished Spirit of his illustrious +friend animate the creations of his pencil, and plead against Oblivion +for his name! + +*** + + +ADONAIS. + +I weep for Adonais—he is dead! +O, weep for Adonais! though our tears +Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head! +And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years +To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, _5 +And teach them thine own sorrow, say: “With me +Died Adonais; till the Future dares +Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be +An echo and a light unto eternity!” + +2. +Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay, _10 +When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies +In darkness? where was lorn Urania +When Adonais died? With veiled eyes, +‘Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise +She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath, _15 +Rekindled all the fading melodies, +With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, +He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of Death. + +3. +Oh, weep for Adonais—he is dead! +Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep! _20 +Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed +Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep +Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep; +For he is gone, where all things wise and fair +Descend;—oh, dream not that the amorous Deep _25 +Will yet restore him to the vital air; +Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair. + +4. +Most musical of mourners, weep again! +Lament anew, Urania!—He died, +Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, _30 +Blind, old and lonely, when his country’s pride, +The priest, the slave, and the liberticide, +Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite +Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified, +Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite _35 +Yet reigns o’er earth; the third among the sons of light. + +5. +Most musical of mourners, weep anew! +Not all to that bright station dared to climb; +And happier they their happiness who knew, +Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time _40 +In which suns perished; others more sublime, +Struck by the envious wrath of man or god, +Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime; +And some yet live, treading the thorny road, +Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame’s serene abode. _45 + +6. +But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perished— +The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, +Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished, +And fed with true-love tears, instead of dew; +Most musical of mourners, weep anew! _50 +Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last, +The bloom, whose petals nipped before they blew +Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste; +The broken lily lies—the storm is overpast. + +7. +To that high Capital, where kingly Death _55 +Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay, +He came; and bought, with price of purest breath, +A grave among the eternal.—Come away! +Haste, while the vault of blue Italian day +Is yet his fitting charnel-roof! while still _60 +He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay; +Awake him not! surely he takes his fill +Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill. + +8. +He will awake no more, oh, never more!— +Within the twilight chamber spreads apace _65 +The shadow of white Death, and at the door +Invisible Corruption waits to trace +His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place; +The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe +Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface _70 +So fair a prey, till darkness and the law +Of change, shall o’er his sleep the mortal curtain draw. + +9. +Oh, weep for Adonais!—The quick Dreams, +The passion-winged Ministers of thought, +Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams _75 +Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught +The love which was its music, wander not,— +Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain, +But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn their lot +Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain, _80 +They ne’er will gather strength, or find a home again. + +10. +And one with trembling hands clasps his cold head, +And fans him with her moonlight wings, and cries; +‘Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead; +See, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes, _85 +Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies +A tear some Dream has loosened from his brain.’ +Lost Angel of a ruined Paradise! +She knew not ’twas her own; as with no stain +She faded, like a cloud which had outwept its rain. _90 + +11. +One from a lucid urn of starry dew +Washed his light limbs as if embalming them; +Another clipped her profuse locks, and threw +The wreath upon him, like an anadem, +Which frozen tears instead of pearls begem; _95 +Another in her wilful grief would break +Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem +A greater loss with one which was more weak; +And dull the barbed fire against his frozen cheek. + +12. +Another Splendour on his mouth alit, _100 +That mouth, whence it was wont to draw the breath +Which gave it strength to pierce the guarded wit, +And pass into the panting heart beneath +With lightning and with music: the damp death +Quenched its caress upon his icy lips; _105 +And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath +Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, +It flushed through his pale limbs, and passed to its eclipse. + +13. +And others came...Desires and Adorations, +Winged Persuasions and veiled Destinies, _110 +Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations +Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies; +And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, +And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam +Of her own dying smile instead of eyes, _115 +Came in slow pomp;—the moving pomp might seem +Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream. + +14. +All he had loved, and moulded into thought, +From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound, +Lamented Adonais. Morning sought _120 +Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound, +Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground, +Dimmed the aereal eyes that kindle day; +Afar the melancholy thunder moaned, +Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay, _125 +And the wild Winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay. + +15. +Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains, +And feeds her grief with his remembered lay, +And will no more reply to winds or fountains, +Or amorous birds perched on the young green spray, _130 +Or herdsman’s horn, or bell at closing day; +Since she can mimic not his lips, more dear +Than those for whose disdain she pined away +Into a shadow of all sounds:—a drear +Murmur, between their songs, is all the woodmen hear. _135 + +16. +Grief made the young Spring wild, and she threw down +Her kindling buds, as if she Autumn were, +Or they dead leaves; since her delight is flown, +For whom should she have waked the sullen year? +To Phoebus was not Hyacinth so dear _140 +Nor to himself Narcissus, as to both +Thou, Adonais: wan they stand and sere +Amid the faint companions of their youth, +With dew all turned to tears; odour, to sighing ruth. + +17. +Thy spirit’s sister, the lorn nightingale _145 +Mourns not her mate with such melodious pain; +Not so the eagle, who like thee could scale +Heaven, and could nourish in the sun’s domain +Her mighty youth with morning, doth complain, +Soaring and screaming round her empty nest, _150 +As Albion wails for thee: the curse of Cain +Light on his head who pierced thy innocent breast, +And scared the angel soul that was its earthly guest! + +18. +Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone, +But grief returns with the revolving year; _155 +The airs and streams renew their joyous tone; +The ants, the bees, the swallows reappear; +Fresh leaves and flowers deck the dead Seasons’ bier; +The amorous birds now pair in every brake, +And build their mossy homes in field and brere; _160 +And the green lizard, and the golden snake, +Like unimprisoned flames, out of their trance awake. + +19. +Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean +A quickening life from the Earth’s heart has burst +As it has ever done, with change and motion, _165 +From the great morning of the world when first +God dawned on Chaos; in its stream immersed, +The lamps of Heaven flash with a softer light; +All baser things pant with life’s sacred thirst; +Diffuse themselves; and spend in love’s delight, _170 +The beauty and the joy of their renewed might. + +20. +The leprous corpse, touched by this spirit tender, +Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath; +Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour +Is changed to fragrance, they illumine death _175 +And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath; +Nought we know, dies. Shall that alone which knows +Be as a sword consumed before the sheath +By sightless lightning?—the intense atom glows +A moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose. _180 + +21. +Alas! that all we loved of him should be, +But for our grief, as if it had not been, +And grief itself be mortal! Woe is me! +Whence are we, and why are we? of what scene +The actors or spectators? Great and mean _185 +Meet massed in death, who lends what life must borrow. +As long as skies are blue, and fields are green, +Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow, +Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow. + +22. +HE will awake no more, oh, never more! _190 +‘Wake thou,’ cried Misery, ‘childless Mother, rise +Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart’s core, +A wound more fierce than his, with tears and sighs.’ +And all the Dreams that watched Urania’s eyes, +And all the Echoes whom their sister’s song _195 +Had held in holy silence, cried: ‘Arise!’ +Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung, +From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendour sprung. + +23. +She rose like an autumnal Night, that springs +Out of the East, and follows wild and drear _200 +The golden Day, which, on eternal wings, +Even as a ghost abandoning a bier, +Had left the Earth a corpse. Sorrow and fear +So struck, so roused, so rapped Urania; +So saddened round her like an atmosphere _205 +Of stormy mist; so swept her on her way +Even to the mournful place where Adonais lay. + +24. +Out of her secret Paradise she sped, +Through camps and cities rough with stone, and steel, +And human hearts, which to her aery tread _210 +Yielding not, wounded the invisible +Palms of her tender feet where’er they fell: +And barbed tongues, and thoughts more sharp than they, +Rent the soft Form they never could repel, +Whose sacred blood, like the young tears of May, _215 +Paved with eternal flowers that undeserving way. + +25. +In the death-chamber for a moment Death, +Shamed by the presence of that living Might, +Blushed to annihilation, and the breath +Revisited those lips, and Life’s pale light _220 +Flashed through those limbs, so late her dear delight. +‘Leave me not wild and drear and comfortless, +As silent lightning leaves the starless night! +Leave me not!’ cried Urania: her distress +Roused Death: Death rose and smiled, and met her vain caress. _225 + +26. +‘Stay yet awhile! speak to me once again; +Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may live; +And in my heartless breast and burning brain +That word, that kiss, shall all thoughts else survive, +With food of saddest memory kept alive, _230 +Now thou art dead, as if it were a part +Of thee, my Adonais! I would give +All that I am to be as thou now art! +But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart! + +27. +‘O gentle child, beautiful as thou wert, _235 +Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men +Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart +Dare the unpastured dragon in his den? +Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then +Wisdom the mirrored shield, or scorn the spear? _240 +Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when +Thy spirit should have filled its crescent sphere, +The monsters of life’s waste had fled from thee like deer. + +28. +‘The herded wolves, bold only to pursue; +The obscene ravens, clamorous o’er the dead; _245 +The vultures to the conqueror’s banner true +Who feed where Desolation first has fed, +And whose wings rain contagion;—how they fled, +When, like Apollo, from his golden bow +The Pythian of the age one arrow sped _250 +And smiled!—The spoilers tempt no second blow, +They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low. + +29. +‘The sun comes forth, and many reptiles spawn; +He sets, and each ephemeral insect then +Is gathered into death without a dawn, _255 +And the immortal stars awake again; +So is it in the world of living men: +A godlike mind soars forth, in its delight +Making earth bare and veiling heaven, and when +It sinks, the swarms that dimmed or shared its light _260 +Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit’s awful night.’ + +30. +Thus ceased she: and the mountain shepherds came, +Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent; +The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame +Over his living head like Heaven is bent, _265 +An early but enduring monument, +Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song +In sorrow; from her wilds Ierne sent +The sweetest lyrist of her saddest wrong, +And Love taught Grief to fall like music from his tongue. _270 + +31. +Midst others of less note, came one frail Form, +A phantom among men; companionless +As the last cloud of an expiring storm +Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess, +Had gazed on Nature’s naked loveliness, _275 +Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray +With feeble steps o’er the world’s wilderness, +And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, +Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey. + +32. +A pardlike Spirit beautiful and swift— _280 +A Love in desolation masked;—a Power +Girt round with weakness;—it can scarce uplift +The weight of the superincumbent hour; +It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, +A breaking billow;—even whilst we speak _285 +Is it not broken? On the withering flower +The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek +The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break. + +33. +His head was bound with pansies overblown, +And faded violets, white, and pied, and blue; _290 +And a light spear topped with a cypress cone, +Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew +Yet dripping with the forest’s noonday dew, +Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart +Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew _295 +He came the last, neglected and apart; +A herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter’s dart. + +34. +All stood aloof, and at his partial moan +Smiled through their tears; well knew that gentle band +Who in another’s fate now wept his own, _300 +As in the accents of an unknown land +He sung new sorrow; sad Urania scanned +The Stranger’s mien, and murmured: ‘Who art thou?’ +He answered not, but with a sudden hand +Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow, _305 +Which was like Cain’s or Christ’s—oh! that it should be so! + +35. +What softer voice is hushed over the dead? +Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown? +What form leans sadly o’er the white death-bed, +In mockery of monumental stone, _310 +The heavy heart heaving without a moan? +If it be He, who, gentlest of the wise, +Taught, soothed, loved, honoured the departed one, +Let me not vex, with inharmonious sighs, +The silence of that heart’s accepted sacrifice. _315 + +36. +Our Adonais has drunk poison—oh! +What deaf and viperous murderer could crown +Life’s early cup with such a draught of woe? +The nameless worm would now itself disown: +It felt, yet could escape, the magic tone _320 +Whose prelude held all envy, hate and wrong, +But what was howling in one breast alone, +Silent with expectation of the song, +Whose master’s hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung. + +37. +Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame! _325 +Live! fear no heavier chastisement from me, +Thou noteless blot on a remembered name! +But be thyself, and know thyself to be! +And ever at thy season be thou free +To spill the venom when thy fangs o’erflow; _330 +Remorse and Self-contempt shall cling to thee; +Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret brow, +And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt—as now. + +38. +Nor let us weep that our delight is fled +Far from these carrion kites that scream below; _335 +He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead; +Thou canst not soar where he is sitting now— +Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow +Back to the burning fountain whence it came, +A portion of the Eternal, which must glow _340 +Through time and change, unquenchably the same, +Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame. + +39. +Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep— +He hath awakened from the dream of life— +’Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep _345 +With phantoms an unprofitable strife, +And in mad trance, strike with our spirit’s knife +Invulnerable nothings.—WE decay +Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief +Convulse us and consume us day by day, _350 +And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay. + +40. +He has outsoared the shadow of our night; +Envy and calumny and hate and pain, +And that unrest which men miscall delight, +Can touch him not and torture not again; _355 +From the contagion of the world’s slow stain +He is secure, and now can never mourn +A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; +Nor, when the spirit’s self has ceased to burn, +With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. _360 + +41. +He lives, he wakes—’tis Death is dead, not he; +Mourn not for Adonais.—Thou young Dawn, +Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee +The spirit thou lamentest is not gone; +Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan! _365 +Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains, and thou Air, +Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown +O’er the abandoned Earth, now leave it bare +Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair! + +42. +He is made one with Nature: there is heard _370 +His voice in all her music, from the moan +Of thunder, to the song of night’s sweet bird; +He is a presence to be felt and known +In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, +Spreading itself where’er that Power may move _375 +Which has withdrawn his being to its own; +Which wields the world with never-wearied love, +Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above. + +43. +He is a portion of the loveliness +Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear _380 +His part, while the one Spirit’s plastic stress +Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there +All new successions to the forms they wear; +Torturing th’ unwilling dross that checks its flight +To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; _385 +And bursting in its beauty and its might +From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven’s light. + +44. +The splendours of the firmament of time +May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not; +Like stars to their appointed height they climb, _390 +And death is a low mist which cannot blot +The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought +Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair, +And love and life contend in it, for what +Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there _395 +And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air. + +45. +The inheritors of unfulfilled renown +Rose from their thrones, built beyond mortal thought, +Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton +Rose pale,—his solemn agony had not _400 +Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he fought +And as he fell and as he lived and loved +Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot, +Arose; and Lucan, by his death approved: +Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reproved. _405 + +46. +And many more, whose names on Earth are dark, +But whose transmitted effluence cannot die +So long as fire outlives the parent spark, +Rose, robed in dazzling immortality. +‘Thou art become as one of us,’ they cry, _410 +‘It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long +Swung blind in unascended majesty, +Silent alone amid a Heaven of Song. +Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper of our throng!’ + +47. +Who mourns for Adonais? Oh, come forth, _415 +Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright. +Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth; +As from a centre, dart thy spirit’s light +Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might +Satiate the void circumference: then shrink _420 +Even to a point within our day and night; +And keep thy heart light lest it make thee sink +When hope has kindled hope, and lured thee to the brink. + +48. +Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre, +Oh, not of him, but of our joy: ’tis nought _425 +That ages, empires and religions there +Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought; +For such as he can lend,—they borrow not +Glory from those who made the world their prey; +And he is gathered to the kings of thought _430 +Who waged contention with their time’s decay, +And of the past are all that cannot pass away. + +49. +Go thou to Rome,—at once the Paradise, +The grave, the city, and the wilderness; +And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, _435 +And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress +The bones of Desolation’s nakedness +Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead +Thy footsteps to a slope of green access +Where, like an infant’s smile, over the dead _440 +A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread; + +50. +And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time +Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand; +And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, +Pavilioning the dust of him who planned _445 +This refuge for his memory, doth stand +Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath, +A field is spread, on which a newer band +Have pitched in Heaven’s smile their camp of death, +Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath. _450 + +51. +Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet +To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned +Its charge to each; and if the seal is set, +Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind, +Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find +Thine own well full, if thou returnest home, +Of tears and gall. From the world’s bitter wind +Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb. +What Adonais is, why fear we to become? + +52. +The One remains, the many change and pass; +Heaven’s light forever shines, Earth’s shadows fly; +Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, +Stains the white radiance of Eternity, +Until Death tramples it to fragments.—Die, +If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek! +Follow where all is fled!—Rome’s azure sky, +Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak +The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak. + +53. +Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart? +Thy hopes are gone before: from all things here +They have departed; thou shouldst now depart! +A light is passed from the revolving year, +And man, and woman; and what still is dear +Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither. +The soft sky smiles,—the low wind whispers near: +’Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither, +No more let Life divide what Death can join together. + +54. +That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, +That Beauty in which all things work and move, +That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse +Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love +Which through the web of being blindly wove +By man and beast and earth and air and sea, +Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of +The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, +Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality. + +55. +The breath whose might I have invoked in song +Descends on me; my spirit’s bark is driven, +Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng +Whose sails were never to the tempest given; +The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! +I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; +Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, +The soul of Adonais, like a star, +Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. _495 + +NOTES: +_49 true-love]true love editions 1821, 1839. +_72 Of change, etc. so editions 1829 (Galignani), 1839; + Of mortal change, shall fill the grave which is her maw edition 1821. +_81 or edition 1821; nor edition 1839. +_105 his edition 1821; its edition 1839. +_126 round edition 1821; around edition 1839. +_143 faint companions edition 1839; drooping comrades edition 1821. +_204 See Editor’s Note. +_252 lying low edition 1839; as they go edition 1821. + + +CANCELLED PASSAGES OF ADONAIS. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +PASSAGES OF THE PREFACE. + +...the expression of my indignation and sympathy. I will allow myself +a first and last word on the subject of calumny as it relates to me. +As an author I have dared and invited censure. If I understand myself, +I have written neither for profit nor for fame. I have employed my +poetical compositions and publications simply as the instruments of +that sympathy between myself and others which the ardent and unbounded +love I cherished for my kind incited me to acquire. I expected all +sorts of stupidity and insolent contempt from those... + +...These compositions (excepting the tragedy of “The Cenci”, which was +written rather to try my powers than to unburthen my full heart) are +insufficiently...commendation than perhaps they deserve, even from +their bitterest enemies; but they have not attained any corresponding +popularity. As a man, I shrink from notice and regard; the ebb and +flow of the world vexes me; I desire to be left in peace. Persecution, +contumely, and calumny have been heaped upon me in profuse measure; +and domestic conspiracy and legal oppression have violated in my +person the most sacred rights of nature and humanity. The bigot will +say it was the recompense of my errors; the man of the world will call +it the result of my imprudence; but never upon one head... + +...Reviewers, with some rare exceptions, are a most stupid and +malignant race. As a bankrupt thief turns thieftaker in despair, so an +unsuccessful author turns critic. But a young spirit panting for fame, +doubtful of its powers, and certain only of its aspirations, is ill +qualified to assign its true value to the sneer of this world. He +knows not that such stuff as this is of the abortive and monstrous +births which time consumes as fast as it produces. He sees the truth +and falsehood, the merits and demerits, of his case inextricably +entangled...No personal offence should have drawn from me this public +comment upon such stuff... + +...The offence of this poor victim seems to have consisted solely in +his intimacy with Leigh Hunt, Mr. Hazlitt, and some other enemies of +despotism and superstition. My friend Hunt has a very hard skull to +crack, and will take a deal of killing. I do not know much of Mr. +Hazlitt, but... + +...I knew personally but little of Keats; but on the news of his +situation I wrote to him, suggesting the propriety of trying the +Italian climate, and inviting him to join me. Unfortunately he did not +allow me... + + +PASSAGES OF THE POEM. + +And ever as he went he swept a lyre +Of unaccustomed shape, and ... strings +Now like the ... of impetuous fire, +Which shakes the forest with its murmurings, +Now like the rush of the aereal wings _5 +Of the enamoured wind among the treen, +Whispering unimaginable things, +And dying on the streams of dew serene, +Which feed the unmown meads with ever-during green. + +... + +And the green Paradise which western waves _10 +Embosom in their ever-wailing sweep, +Talking of freedom to their tongueless caves, +Or to the spirits which within them keep +A record of the wrongs which, though they sleep, +Die not, but dream of retribution, heard _15 +His hymns, and echoing them from steep to steep, +Kept— + +... + +And then came one of sweet and earnest looks, +Whose soft smiles to his dark and night-like eyes +Were as the clear and ever-living brooks _20 +Are to the obscure fountains whence they rise, +Showing how pure they are: a Paradise +Of happy truth upon his forehead low +Lay, making wisdom lovely, in the guise +Of earth-awakening morn upon the brow _25 +Of star-deserted heaven, while ocean gleams below. + +His song, though very sweet, was low and faint, +A simple strain— + +... + +A mighty Phantasm, half concealed +In darkness of his own exceeding light, _30 +Which clothed his awful presence unrevealed, +Charioted on the ... night +Of thunder-smoke, whose skirts were chrysolite. + +And like a sudden meteor, which outstrips +The splendour-winged chariot of the sun, _35 +... eclipse +The armies of the golden stars, each one +Pavilioned in its tent of light—all strewn +Over the chasms of blue night— + +*** + + +HELLAS + +A LYRICAL DRAMA. + +MANTIS EIM EZTHLON AGONUN.—OEDIP. COLON. + +[“Hellas” was composed at Pisa in the autumn of 1821, and dispatched +to London, November 11. It was published, with the author’s name, by +C. & J. Ollier in the spring of 1822. A transcript of the poem by +Edward Williams is in the Rowfant Library. Ollier availed himself of +Shelley’s permission to cancel certain passages in the notes; he also +struck out certain lines of the text. These omissions were, some of +them, restored in Galignani’s one-volume edition of “Coleridge, +Shelley and Keats”, Paris, 1829, and also by Mrs. Shelley in the +“Poetical Works”, 1839. A passage in the “Preface”, suppressed by +Ollier, was restored by Mr. Buxton Forman (1892) from a proof copy of +“Hellas” in his possession. The “Prologue to Hellas” was edited by Dr. +Garnett in 1862 (“Relics of Shelley”) from the manuscripts at Boscombe +Manor. + +Our text is that of the editio princeps, 1822, corrected by a list of +“Errata” sent by Shelley to Ollier, April 11, 1822. The Editor’s Notes +at the end of Volume 3 should be consulted.] + + +TO HIS EXCELLENCY + +PRINCE ALEXANDER MAVROCORDATO + +LATE SECRETARY FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS TO THE HOSPODAR OF WALLACHIA + +THE DRAMA OF HELLAS IS INSCRIBED AS AN + +IMPERFECT TOKEN OF THE ADMIRATION, + +SYMPATHY, AND FRIENDSHIP OF + +THE AUTHOR. + +Pisa, November 1, 1821. + + +PREFACE. + +The poem of “Hellas”, written at the suggestion of the events of the +moment, is a mere improvise, and derives its interest (should it be +found to possess any) solely from the intense sympathy which the +Author feels with the cause he would celebrate. + +The subject, in its present state, is insusceptible of being treated +otherwise than lyrically, and if I have called this poem a drama from +the circumstance of its being composed in dialogue, the licence is not +greater than that which has been assumed by other poets who have +called their productions epics, only because they have been divided +into twelve or twenty-four books. + +The “Persae” of Aeschylus afforded me the first model of my +conception, although the decision of the glorious contest now waging +in Greece being yet suspended forbids a catastrophe parallel to the +return of Xerxes and the desolation of the Persians. I have, +therefore, contented myself with exhibiting a series of lyric +pictures, and with having wrought upon the curtain of futurity, which +falls upon the unfinished scene, such figures of indistinct and +visionary delineation as suggest the final triumph of the Greek cause +as a portion of the cause of civilisation and social improvement. + +The drama (if drama it must be called) is, however, so inartificial +that I doubt whether, if recited on the Thespian waggon to an Athenian +village at the Dionysiaca, it would have obtained the prize of the +goat. I shall bear with equanimity any punishment, greater than the +loss of such a reward, which the Aristarchi of the hour may think fit +to inflict. + +The only “goat-song” which I have yet attempted has, I confess, in +spite of the unfavourable nature of the subject, received a greater +and a more valuable portion of applause than I expected or than it +deserved. + +Common fame is the only authority which I can allege for the details +which form the basis of the poem, and I must trespass upon the +forgiveness of my readers for the display of newspaper erudition to +which I have been reduced. Undoubtedly, until the conclusion of the +war, it will be impossible to obtain an account of it sufficiently +authentic for historical materials; but poets have their privilege, +and it is unquestionable that actions of the most exalted courage have +been performed by the Greeks—that they have gained more than one +naval victory, and that their defeat in Wallachia was signalized by +circumstances of heroism more glorious even than victory. + +The apathy of the rulers of the civilised world to the astonishing +circumstance of the descendants of that nation to which they owe their +civilisation, rising as it were from the ashes of their ruin, is +something perfectly inexplicable to a mere spectator of the shows of +this mortal scene. We are all Greeks. Our laws, our literature, our +religion, our arts have their root in Greece. But for Greece—Rome, +the instructor, the conqueror, or the metropolis of our ancestors, +would have spread no illumination with her arms, and we might still +have been savages and idolaters; or, what is worse, might have arrived +at such a stagnant and miserable state of social institution as China +and Japan possess. + +The human form and the human mind attained to a perfection in Greece +which has impressed its image on those faultless productions, whose +very fragments are the despair of modern art, and has propagated +impulses which cannot cease, through a thousand channels of manifest +or imperceptible operation, to ennoble and delight mankind until the +extinction of the race. + +The modern Greek is the descendant of those glorious beings whom the +imagination almost refuses to figure to itself as belonging to our +kind, and he inherits much of their sensibility, their rapidity of +conception, their enthusiasm, and their courage. If in many instances +he is degraded by moral and political slavery to the practice of the +basest vices it engenders—and that below the level of ordinary +degradation—let us reflect that the corruption of the best produces +the worst, and that habits which subsist only in relation to a +peculiar state of social institution may be expected to cease as soon +as that relation is dissolved. In fact, the Greeks, since the +admirable novel of Anastasius could have been a faithful picture of +their manners, have undergone most important changes; the flower of +their youth, returning to their country from the universities of +Italy, Germany, and France, have communicated to their fellow-citizens +the latest results of that social perfection of which their ancestors +were the original source. The University of Chios contained before the +breaking out of the revolution eight hundred students, and among them +several Germans and Americans. The munificence and energy of many of +the Greek princes and merchants, directed to the renovation of their +country with a spirit and a wisdom which has few examples, is above +all praise. + +The English permit their own oppressors to act according to their +natural sympathy with the Turkish tyrant, and to brand upon their name +the indelible blot of an alliance with the enemies of domestic +happiness, of Christianity and civilisation. + +Russia desires to possess, not to liberate Greece; and is contented to +see the Turks, its natural enemies, and the Greeks, its intended +slaves, enfeeble each other until one or both fall into its net. The +wise and generous policy of England would have consisted in +establishing the independence of Greece, and in maintaining it both +against Russia and the Turk;—but when was the oppressor generous or +just? + +[Should the English people ever become free, they will reflect upon +the part which those who presume to represent their will have played +in the great drama of the revival of liberty, with feelings which it +would become them to anticipate. This is the age of the war of the +oppressed against the oppressors, and every one of those ringleaders +of the privileged gangs of murderers and swindlers, called Sovereigns, +look to each other for aid against the common enemy, and suspend their +mutual jealousies in the presence of a mightier fear. Of this holy +alliance all the despots of the earth are virtual members. But a new +race has arisen throughout Europe, nursed in the abhorrence of the +opinions which are its chains, and she will continue to produce fresh +generations to accomplish that destiny which tyrants foresee and +dread. (This paragraph, suppressed in 1822 by Charles Ollier, was +first restored in 1892 by Mr. Buxton Forman [“Poetical Works of P. B. +S.”, volume 4 pages 40-41] from a proof copy of Hellas in his +possession.] + +The Spanish Peninsula is already free. France is tranquil in the +enjoyment of a partial exemption from the abuses which its unnatural +and feeble government are vainly attempting to revive. The seed of +blood and misery has been sown in Italy, and a more vigorous race is +arising to go forth to the harvest. The world waits only the news of a +revolution of Germany to see the tyrants who have pinnacled themselves +on its supineness precipitated into the ruin from which they shall +never arise. Well do these destroyers of mankind know their enemy, +when they impute the insurrection in Greece to the same spirit before +which they tremble throughout the rest of Europe, and that enemy well +knows the power and the cunning of its opponents, and watches the +moment of their approaching weakness and inevitable division to wrest +the bloody sceptres from their grasp. + + +PROLOGUE TO HELLAS. + +HERALD OF ETERNITY: +It is the day when all the sons of God +Wait in the roofless senate-house, whose floor +Is Chaos, and the immovable abyss +Frozen by His steadfast word to hyaline + +... + +The shadow of God, and delegate _5 +Of that before whose breath the universe +Is as a print of dew. +Hierarchs and kings +Who from your thrones pinnacled on the past +Sway the reluctant present, ye who sit +Pavilioned on the radiance or the gloom _10 +Of mortal thought, which like an exhalation +Steaming from earth, conceals the ... of heaven +Which gave it birth. ... assemble here +Before your Father’s throne; the swift decree +Yet hovers, and the fiery incarnation _15 +Is yet withheld, clothed in which it shall +annul +The fairest of those wandering isles that gem +The sapphire space of interstellar air, +That green and azure sphere, that earth enwrapped _20 +Less in the beauty of its tender light +Than in an atmosphere of living spirit +Which interpenetrating all the ... +it rolls from realm to realm +And age to age, and in its ebb and flow _25 +Impels the generations +To their appointed place, +Whilst the high Arbiter +Beholds the strife, and at the appointed time +Sends His decrees veiled in eternal... _30 + +Within the circuit of this pendent orb +There lies an antique region, on which fell +The dews of thought in the world’s golden dawn +Earliest and most benign, and from it sprung +Temples and cities and immortal forms _35 +And harmonies of wisdom and of song, +And thoughts, and deeds worthy of thoughts so fair. +And when the sun of its dominion failed, +And when the winter of its glory came, +The winds that stripped it bare blew on and swept _40 +That dew into the utmost wildernesses +In wandering clouds of sunny rain that thawed +The unmaternal bosom of the North. +Haste, sons of God, ... for ye beheld, +Reluctant, or consenting, or astonished, _45 +The stern decrees go forth, which heaped on Greece +Ruin and degradation and despair. +A fourth now waits: assemble, sons of God, +To speed or to prevent or to suspend, +If, as ye dream, such power be not withheld, _50 +The unaccomplished destiny. + +NOTE: +_8 your Garnett; yon Forman, Dowden. + +... + +CHORUS: +The curtain of the Universe +Is rent and shattered, +The splendour-winged worlds disperse +Like wild doves scattered. _55 + +Space is roofless and bare, +And in the midst a cloudy shrine, +Dark amid thrones of light. +In the blue glow of hyaline +Golden worlds revolve and shine. _60 +In ... flight +From every point of the Infinite, +Like a thousand dawns on a single night +The splendours rise and spread; +And through thunder and darkness dread _65 +Light and music are radiated, +And in their pavilioned chariots led +By living wings high overhead +The giant Powers move, +Gloomy or bright as the thrones they fill. _70 + +... + +A chaos of light and motion +Upon that glassy ocean. + +... + +The senate of the Gods is met, +Each in his rank and station set; +There is silence in the spaces— _75 +Lo! Satan, Christ, and Mahomet +Start from their places! + +CHRIST: +Almighty Father! +Low-kneeling at the feet of Destiny + +... + +There are two fountains in which spirits weep _80 +When mortals err, Discord and Slavery named, +And with their bitter dew two Destinies +Filled each their irrevocable urns; the third +Fiercest and mightiest, mingled both, and added +Chaos and Death, and slow Oblivion’s lymph, _85 +And hate and terror, and the poisoned rain + +... + +The Aurora of the nations. By this brow +Whose pores wept tears of blood, by these wide wounds, +By this imperial crown of agony, +By infamy and solitude and death, _90 +For this I underwent, and by the pain +Of pity for those who would ... for me +The unremembered joy of a revenge, +For this I felt—by Plato’s sacred light, +Of which my spirit was a burning morrow— _95 +By Greece and all she cannot cease to be. +Her quenchless words, sparks of immortal truth, +Stars of all night—her harmonies and forms, +Echoes and shadows of what Love adores +In thee, I do compel thee, send forth Fate, _100 +Thy irrevocable child: let her descend, +A seraph-winged Victory [arrayed] +In tempest of the omnipotence of God +Which sweeps through all things. + +From hollow leagues, from Tyranny which arms _105 +Adverse miscreeds and emulous anarchies +To stamp, as on a winged serpent’s seed, +Upon the name of Freedom; from the storm +Of faction, which like earthquake shakes and sickens +The solid heart of enterprise; from all _110 +By which the holiest dreams of highest spirits +Are stars beneath the dawn... +She shall arise +Victorious as the world arose from Chaos! +And as the Heavens and the Earth arrayed +Their presence in the beauty and the light _115 +Of Thy first smile, O Father,—as they gather +The spirit of Thy love which paves for them +Their path o’er the abyss, till every sphere +Shall be one living Spirit,—so shall Greece— + +SATAN: +Be as all things beneath the empyrean, _120 +Mine! Art thou eyeless like old Destiny, +Thou mockery-king, crowned with a wreath of thorns? +Whose sceptre is a reed, the broken reed +Which pierces thee! whose throne a chair of scorn; +For seest thou not beneath this crystal floor _125 +The innumerable worlds of golden light +Which are my empire, and the least of them +which thou wouldst redeem from me? +Know’st thou not them my portion? +Or wouldst rekindle the ... strife _130 +Which our great Father then did arbitrate +Which he assigned to his competing sons +Each his apportioned realm? +Thou Destiny, +Thou who art mailed in the omnipotence +Of Him who tends thee forth, whate’er thy task, _135 +Speed, spare not to accomplish, and be mine +Thy trophies, whether Greece again become +The fountain in the desert whence the earth +Shall drink of freedom, which shall give it strength +To suffer, or a gulf of hollow death _140 +To swallow all delight, all life, all hope. +Go, thou Vicegerent of my will, no less +Than of the Father’s; but lest thou shouldst faint, +The winged hounds, Famine and Pestilence, +Shall wait on thee, the hundred-forked snake _145 +Insatiate Superstition still shall... +The earth behind thy steps, and War shall hover +Above, and Fraud shall gape below, and Change +Shall flit before thee on her dragon wings, +Convulsing and consuming, and I add _150 +Three vials of the tears which daemons weep +When virtuous spirits through the gate of Death +Pass triumphing over the thorns of life, +Sceptres and crowns, mitres and swords and snares, +Trampling in scorn, like Him and Socrates. _155 +The first is Anarchy; when Power and Pleasure, +Glory and science and security, +On Freedom hang like fruit on the green tree, +Then pour it forth, and men shall gather ashes. +The second Tyranny— + +CHRIST: +Obdurate spirit! _160 +Thou seest but the Past in the To-come. +Pride is thy error and thy punishment. +Boast not thine empire, dream not that thy worlds +Are more than furnace-sparks or rainbow-drops +Before the Power that wields and kindles them. _165 +True greatness asks not space, true excellence +Lives in the Spirit of all things that live, +Which lends it to the worlds thou callest thine. + +... + +MAHOMET: +...Haste thou and fill the waning crescent +With beams as keen as those which pierced the shadow _170 +Of Christian night rolled back upon the West, +When the orient moon of Islam rode in triumph +From Tmolus to the Acroceraunian snow. + +... + +Wake, thou Word +Of God, and from the throne of Destiny _175 +Even to the utmost limit of thy way +May Triumph + +... + +Be thou a curse on them whose creed +Divides and multiplies the most high God. + + +HELLAS. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE: + +MAHMUD. +HASSAN. +DAOOD. +AHASUERUS, A JEW. +CHORUS OF GREEK CAPTIVE WOMEN. +[THE PHANTOM OF MAHOMET II. (OMITTED, EDITION 1822.)] +MESSENGERS, SLAVES, AND ATTENDANTS. + +SCENE: +CONSTANTINOPLE. + +TIME: SUNSET. + +SCENE: +A TERRACE ON THE SERAGLIO. +MAHMUD SLEEPING, +AN INDIAN SLAVE SITTING BESIDE HIS COUCH. + +CHORUS OF GREEK CAPTIVE WOMEN: +We strew these opiate flowers +On thy restless pillow,— +They were stripped from Orient bowers, +By the Indian billow. +Be thy sleep _5 +Calm and deep, +Like theirs who fell—not ours who weep! + +INDIAN: +Away, unlovely dreams! +Away, false shapes of sleep +Be his, as Heaven seems, _10 +Clear, and bright, and deep! +Soft as love, and calm as death, +Sweet as a summer night without a breath. + +CHORUS: +Sleep, sleep! our song is laden +With the soul of slumber; _15 +It was sung by a Samian maiden, +Whose lover was of the number +Who now keep +That calm sleep +Whence none may wake, where none shall weep. _20 + +INDIAN: +I touch thy temples pale! +I breathe my soul on thee! +And could my prayers avail, +All my joy should be +Dead, and I would live to weep, _25 +So thou mightst win one hour of quiet sleep. + +CHORUS: +Breathe low, low +The spell of the mighty mistress now! +When Conscience lulls her sated snake, +And Tyrants sleep, let Freedom wake. _30 +Breathe low—low +The words which, like secret fire, shall flow +Through the veins of the frozen earth—low, low! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Life may change, but it may fly not; +Hope may vanish, but can die not; _35 +Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; +Love repulsed,—but it returneth! + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Yet were life a charnel where +Hope lay coffined with Despair; +Yet were truth a sacred lie, _40 +Love were lust— + +SEMICHORUS 1: +If Liberty +Lent not life its soul of light, +Hope its iris of delight, +Truth its prophet’s robe to wear, +Love its power to give and bear. _45 + +CHORUS: +In the great morning of the world, +The Spirit of God with might unfurled +The flag of Freedom over Chaos, +And all its banded anarchs fled, +Like vultures frighted from Imaus, _50 +Before an earthquake’s tread.— +So from Time’s tempestuous dawn +Freedom’s splendour burst and shone:— +Thermopylae and Marathon +Caught like mountains beacon-lighted, _55 +The springing Fire.—The winged glory +On Philippi half-alighted, +Like an eagle on a promontory. +Its unwearied wings could fan +The quenchless ashes of Milan. _60 +From age to age, from man to man, +It lived; and lit from land to land +Florence, Albion, Switzerland. + +Then night fell; and, as from night, +Reassuming fiery flight, _65 +From the West swift Freedom came, +Against the course of Heaven and doom. +A second sun arrayed in flame, +To burn, to kindle, to illume. +From far Atlantis its young beams _70 +Chased the shadows and the dreams. +France, with all her sanguine steams, +Hid, but quenched it not; again +Through clouds its shafts of glory rain +From utmost Germany to Spain. _75 +As an eagle fed with morning +Scorns the embattled tempest’s warning, +When she seeks her aerie hanging +In the mountain-cedar’s hair, +And her brood expect the clanging _80 +Of her wings through the wild air, +Sick with famine:—Freedom, so +To what of Greece remaineth now +Returns; her hoary ruins glow +Like Orient mountains lost in day; _85 +Beneath the safety of her wings +Her renovated nurslings prey, +And in the naked lightenings +Of truth they purge their dazzled eyes. +Let Freedom leave—where’er she flies, _90 +A Desert, or a Paradise: +Let the beautiful and the brave +Share her glory, or a grave. + +NOTES: +_77 tempest’s]tempests edition 1822. +_87 prey edition 1822; play editions 1839. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +With the gifts of gladness +Greece did thy cradle strew; _95 + +SEMICHORUS 2: +With the tears of sadness +Greece did thy shroud bedew! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +With an orphan’s affection +She followed thy bier through Time; + +SEMICHORUS 2: +And at thy resurrection _100 +Reappeareth, like thou, sublime! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +If Heaven should resume thee, +To Heaven shall her spirit ascend; + +SEMICHORUS 2: +If Hell should entomb thee, +To Hell shall her high hearts bend. _105 + +SEMICHORUS 1: +If Annihilation— + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Dust let her glories be! +And a name and a nation +Be forgotten, Freedom, with thee! + +INDIAN: +His brow grows darker—breathe not—move not! _110 +He starts—he shudders—ye that love not, +With your panting loud and fast, +Have awakened him at last. + +MAHMUD [STARTING FROM HIS SLEEP]: +Man the Seraglio-guard! make fast the gate! +What! from a cannonade of three short hours? _115 +’Tis false! that breach towards the Bosphorus +Cannot be practicable yet—who stirs? +Stand to the match; that when the foe prevails +One spark may mix in reconciling ruin +The conqueror and the conquered! Heave the tower _120 +Into the gap—wrench off the roof! +[ENTER HASSAN.] +Ha! what! +The truth of day lightens upon my dream +And I am Mahmud still. + +HASSAN: +Your Sublime Highness +Is strangely moved. + +MAHMUD: +The times do cast strange shadows +On those who watch and who must rule their course, _125 +Lest they, being first in peril as in glory, +Be whelmed in the fierce ebb:—and these are of them. +Thrice has a gloomy vision hunted me +As thus from sleep into the troubled day; +It shakes me as the tempest shakes the sea, _130 +Leaving no figure upon memory’s glass. +Would that—no matter. Thou didst say thou knewest +A Jew, whose spirit is a chronicle +Of strange and secret and forgotten things. +I bade thee summon him:—’tis said his tribe _135 +Dream, and are wise interpreters of dreams. + +HASSAN: +The Jew of whom I spake is old,—so old +He seems to have outlived a world’s decay; +The hoary mountains and the wrinkled ocean +Seem younger still than he;—his hair and beard _140 +Are whiter than the tempest-sifted snow; +His cold pale limbs and pulseless arteries +Are like the fibres of a cloud instinct +With light, and to the soul that quickens them +Are as the atoms of the mountain-drift _145 +To the winter wind:—but from his eye looks forth +A life of unconsumed thought which pierces +The Present, and the Past, and the To-come. +Some say that this is he whom the great prophet +Jesus, the son of Joseph, for his mockery, _150 +Mocked with the curse of immortality. +Some feign that he is Enoch: others dream +He was pre-adamite and has survived +Cycles of generation and of ruin. +The sage, in truth, by dreadful abstinence _155 +And conquering penance of the mutinous flesh, +Deep contemplation, and unwearied study, +In years outstretched beyond the date of man, +May have attained to sovereignty and science +Over those strong and secret things and thoughts _160 +Which others fear and know not. + +MAHMUD: +I would talk +With this old Jew. + +HASSAN: +Thy will is even now +Made known to him, where he dwells in a sea-cavern +‘Mid the Demonesi, less accessible +Than thou or God! He who would question him _165 +Must sail alone at sunset, where the stream +Of Ocean sleeps around those foamless isles, +When the young moon is westering as now, +And evening airs wander upon the wave; +And when the pines of that bee-pasturing isle, _170 +Green Erebinthus, quench the fiery shadow +Of his gilt prow within the sapphire water, +Then must the lonely helmsman cry aloud +‘Ahasuerus!’ and the caverns round +Will answer ‘Ahasuerus!’ If his prayer _175 +Be granted, a faint meteor will arise +Lighting him over Marmora, and a wind +Will rush out of the sighing pine-forest, +And with the wind a storm of harmony +Unutterably sweet, and pilot him _180 +Through the soft twilight to the Bosphorus: +Thence at the hour and place and circumstance +Fit for the matter of their conference +The Jew appears. Few dare, and few who dare +Win the desired communion—but that shout _185 +Bodes— + +[A SHOUT WITHIN.] + +MAHMUD: +Evil, doubtless; Like all human sounds. +Let me converse with spirits. + +HASSAN: +That shout again. + +MAHMUD: +This Jew whom thou hast summoned— + +HASSAN: +Will be here— + +MAHMUD: +When the omnipotent hour to which are yoked +He, I, and all things shall compel—enough! _190 +Silence those mutineers—that drunken crew, +That crowd about the pilot in the storm. +Ay! strike the foremost shorter by a head! +They weary me, and I have need of rest. +Kinks are like stars—they rise and set, they have _195 +The worship of the world, but no repose. + +[EXEUNT SEVERALLY.] + +CHORUS: +Worlds on worlds are rolling ever +From creation to decay, +Like the bubbles on a river +Sparkling, bursting, borne away. _200 +But they are still immortal +Who, through birth’s orient portal +And death’s dark chasm hurrying to and fro, +Clothe their unceasing flight +In the brief dust and light _205 +Gathered around their chariots as they go; +New shapes they still may weave, +New gods, new laws receive, +Bright or dim are they as the robes they last +On Death’s bare ribs had cast. _210 + +A power from the unknown God, +A Promethean conqueror, came; +Like a triumphal path he trod +The thorns of death and shame. +A mortal shape to him _215 +Was like the vapour dim +Which the orient planet animates with light; +Hell, Sin, and Slavery came, +Like bloodhounds mild and tame, +Nor preyed, until their Lord had taken flight; _220 +The moon of Mahomet +Arose, and it shall set: +While blazoned as on Heaven’s immortal noon +The cross leads generations on. + +Swift as the radiant shapes of sleep _225 +From one whose dreams are Paradise +Fly, when the fond wretch wakes to weep, +And Day peers forth with her blank eyes; +So fleet, so faint, so fair, +The Powers of earth and air _230 +Fled from the folding-star of Bethlehem: +Apollo, Pan, and Love, +And even Olympian Jove +Grew weak, for killing Truth had glared on them; +Our hills and seas and streams, _235 +Dispeopled of their dreams, +Their waters turned to blood, their dew to tears, +Wailed for the golden years. + +[ENTER MAHMUD, HASSAN, DAOOD, AND OTHERS.] + +MAHMUD: +More gold? our ancestors bought gold with victory, +And shall I sell it for defeat? + +DAOOD: +The Janizars _240 +Clamour for pay. + +MAHMUD: +Go! bid them pay themselves +With Christian blood! Are there no Grecian virgins +Whose shrieks and spasms and tears they may enjoy? +No infidel children to impale on spears? +No hoary priests after that Patriarch _245 +Who bent the curse against his country’s heart, +Which clove his own at last? Go! bid them kill, +Blood is the seed of gold. + +DAOOD: +It has been sown, +And yet the harvest to the sicklemen +Is as a grain to each. + +MAHMUD: +Then, take this signet, _250 +Unlock the seventh chamber in which lie +The treasures of victorious Solyman,— +An empire’s spoil stored for a day of ruin. +O spirit of my sires! is it not come? +The prey-birds and the wolves are gorged and sleep; _255 +But these, who spread their feast on the red earth, +Hunger for gold, which fills not.—See them fed; +Then, lead them to the rivers of fresh death. +[EXIT DAOOD.] +O miserable dawn, after a night +More glorious than the day which it usurped! _260 +O faith in God! O power on earth! O word +Of the great prophet, whose o’ershadowing wings +Darkened the thrones and idols of the West, +Now bright!—For thy sake cursed be the hour, +Even as a father by an evil child, _265 +When the orient moon of Islam rolled in triumph +From Caucasus to White Ceraunia! +Ruin above, and anarchy below; +Terror without, and treachery within; +The Chalice of destruction full, and all _270 +Thirsting to drink; and who among us dares +To dash it from his lips? and where is Hope? + +HASSAN: +The lamp of our dominion still rides high; +One God is God—Mahomet is His prophet. +Four hundred thousand Moslems, from the limits _275 +Of utmost Asia, irresistibly +Throng, like full clouds at the Sirocco’s cry; +But not like them to weep their strength in tears: +They bear destroying lightning, and their step +Wakes earthquake to consume and overwhelm, _280 +And reign in ruin. Phrygian Olympus, +Tmolus, and Latmos, and Mycale, roughen +With horrent arms; and lofty ships even now, +Like vapours anchored to a mountain’s edge, +Freighted with fire and whirlwind, wait at Scala _285 +The convoy of the ever-veering wind. +Samos is drunk with blood;—the Greek has paid +Brief victory with swift loss and long despair. +The false Moldavian serfs fled fast and far +When the fierce shout of ‘Allah-illa-Allah!’ _290 +Rose like the war-cry of the northern wind +Which kills the sluggish clouds, and leaves a flock +Of wild swans struggling with the naked storm. +So were the lost Greeks on the Danube’s day! +If night is mute, yet the returning sun _295 +Kindles the voices of the morning birds; +Nor at thy bidding less exultingly +Than birds rejoicing in the golden day, +The Anarchies of Africa unleash +Their tempest-winged cities of the sea, _300 +To speak in thunder to the rebel world. +Like sulphurous clouds, half-shattered by the storm, +They sweep the pale Aegean, while the Queen +Of Ocean, bound upon her island-throne, +Far in the West, sits mourning that her sons _305 +Who frown on Freedom spare a smile for thee: +Russia still hovers, as an eagle might +Within a cloud, near which a kite and crane +Hang tangled in inextricable fight, +To stoop upon the victor;—for she fears _310 +The name of Freedom, even as she hates thine. +But recreant Austria loves thee as the Grave +Loves Pestilence, and her slow dogs of war +Fleshed with the chase, come up from Italy, +And howl upon their limits; for they see _315 +The panther, Freedom, fled to her old cover, +Amid seas and mountains, and a mightier brood +Crouch round. What Anarch wears a crown or mitre, +Or bears the sword, or grasps the key of gold, +Whose friends are not thy friends, whose foes thy foes? _320 +Our arsenals and our armouries are full; +Our forts defy assault; ten thousand cannon +Lie ranged upon the beach, and hour by hour +Their earth-convulsing wheels affright the city; +The galloping of fiery steeds makes pale _325 +The Christian merchant; and the yellow Jew +Hides his hoard deeper in the faithless earth. +Like clouds, and like the shadows of the clouds, +Over the hills of Anatolia, +Swift in wide troops the Tartar chivalry _330 +Sweep;—the far flashing of their starry lances +Reverberates the dying light of day. +We have one God, one King, one Hope, one Law; +But many-headed Insurrection stands +Divided in itself, and soon must fall. _335 + +NOTES: +_253 spoil edition 1822; spoils editions 1839. +_279 bear edition 1822; have editions 1839. +_322 assault edition 1822; assaults editions 1839. + +MAHMUD: +Proud words, when deeds come short, are seasonable: +Look, Hassan, on yon crescent moon, emblazoned +Upon that shattered flag of fiery cloud +Which leads the rear of the departing day; +Wan emblem of an empire fading now! _340 +See how it trembles in the blood-red air, +And like a mighty lamp whose oil is spent +Shrinks on the horizon’s edge, while, from above, +One star with insolent and victorious light +Hovers above its fall, and with keen beams, _345 +Like arrows through a fainting antelope, +Strikes its weak form to death. + +HASSAN: +Even as that moon +Renews itself— + +MAHMUD: +Shall we be not renewed! +Far other bark than ours were needed now +To stem the torrent of descending time: _350 +The Spirit that lifts the slave before his lord +Stalks through the capitals of armed kings, +And spreads his ensign in the wilderness: +Exults in chains; and, when the rebel falls, +Cries like the blood of Abel from the dust; _355 +And the inheritors of the earth, like beasts +When earthquake is unleashed, with idiot fear +Cower in their kingly dens—as I do now. +What were Defeat when Victory must appal? +Or Danger, when Security looks pale?— _360 +How said the messenger—who, from the fort +Islanded in the Danube, saw the battle +Of Bucharest?—that— + +NOTES: +_351 his edition 1822; its editions 1839. +_356 of the earth edition 1822; of earth editions 1839. + +HASSAN: +Ibrahim’s scimitar +Drew with its gleam swift victory from Heaven, +To burn before him in the night of battle— _365 +A light and a destruction. + +MAHMUD: +Ay! the day +Was ours: but how?— + +HASSAN: +The light Wallachians, +The Arnaut, Servian, and Albanian allies +Fled from the glance of our artillery +Almost before the thunderstone alit. _370 +One half the Grecian army made a bridge +Of safe and slow retreat, with Moslem dead; +The other— + +MAHMUD: +Speak—tremble not.— + +HASSAN: +Islanded +By victor myriads, formed in hollow square +With rough and steadfast front, and thrice flung back _375 +The deluge of our foaming cavalry; +Thrice their keen wedge of battle pierced our lines. +Our baffled army trembled like one man +Before a host, and gave them space; but soon, +From the surrounding hills, the batteries blazed, _380 +Kneading them down with fire and iron rain: +Yet none approached; till, like a field of corn +Under the hook of the swart sickleman, +The band, intrenched in mounds of Turkish dead, +Grew weak and few.—Then said the Pacha, ‘Slaves, _385 +Render yourselves—they have abandoned you— +What hope of refuge, or retreat, or aid? +We grant your lives.’ ‘Grant that which is thine own!’ +Cried one, and fell upon his sword and died! +Another—‘God, and man, and hope abandon me; _390 +But I to them, and to myself, remain +Constant:’—he bowed his head, and his heart burst. +A third exclaimed, ‘There is a refuge, tyrant, +Where thou darest not pursue, and canst not harm +Shouldst thou pursue; there we shall meet again.’ _395 +Then held his breath, and, after a brief spasm, +The indignant spirit cast its mortal garment +Among the slain—dead earth upon the earth! +So these survivors, each by different ways, +Some strange, all sudden, none dishonourable, _400 +Met in triumphant death; and when our army +Closed in, while yet wonder, and awe, and shame +Held back the base hyaenas of the battle +That feed upon the dead and fly the living, +One rose out of the chaos of the slain: _405 +And if it were a corpse which some dread spirit +Of the old saviours of the land we rule +Had lifted in its anger, wandering by;— +Or if there burned within the dying man +Unquenchable disdain of death, and faith _410 +Creating what it feigned;—I cannot tell— +But he cried, ‘Phantoms of the free, we come! +Armies of the Eternal, ye who strike +To dust the citadels of sanguine kings, +And shake the souls throned on their stony hearts, _415 +And thaw their frostwork diadems like dew;— +O ye who float around this clime, and weave +The garment of the glory which it wears, +Whose fame, though earth betray the dust it clasped, +Lies sepulchred in monumental thought;— _420 +Progenitors of all that yet is great, +Ascribe to your bright senate, O accept +In your high ministrations, us, your sons— +Us first, and the more glorious yet to come! +And ye, weak conquerors! giants who look pale _425 +When the crushed worm rebels beneath your tread, +The vultures and the dogs, your pensioners tame, +Are overgorged; but, like oppressors, still +They crave the relic of Destruction’s feast. +The exhalations and the thirsty winds _430 +Are sick with blood; the dew is foul with death; +Heaven’s light is quenched in slaughter: thus, where’er +Upon your camps, cities, or towers, or fleets, +The obscene birds the reeking remnants cast +Of these dead limbs,—upon your streams and mountains, _435 +Upon your fields, your gardens, and your housetops, +Where’er the winds shall creep, or the clouds fly, +Or the dews fall, or the angry sun look down +With poisoned light—Famine, and Pestilence, +And Panic, shall wage war upon our side! _440 +Nature from all her boundaries is moved +Against ye: Time has found ye light as foam. +The Earth rebels; and Good and Evil stake +Their empire o’er the unborn world of men +On this one cast;—but ere the die be thrown, _445 +The renovated genius of our race, +Proud umpire of the impious game, descends, +A seraph-winged Victory, bestriding +The tempest of the Omnipotence of God, +Which sweeps all things to their appointed doom, _450 +And you to oblivion!’—More he would have said, +But— + +NOTE: +_384 band edition 1822; bands editions 1839. + +MAHMUD: +Died—as thou shouldst ere thy lips had painted +Their ruin in the hues of our success. +A rebel’s crime, gilt with a rebel’s tongue! +Your heart is Greek, Hassan. + +HASSAN: +It may be so: _455 +A spirit not my own wrenched me within, +And I have spoken words I fear and hate; +Yet would I die for— + +MAHMUD: +Live! oh live! outlive +Me and this sinking empire. But the fleet— + +HASSAN: +Alas!— + +MAHMUD: +The fleet which, like a flock of clouds _460 +Chased by the wind, flies the insurgent banner! +Our winged castles from their merchant ships! +Our myriads before their weak pirate bands! +Our arms before their chains! our years of empire +Before their centuries of servile fear! _465 +Death is awake! Repulse is on the waters! +They own no more the thunder-bearing banner +Of Mahmud; but, like hounds of a base breed, +Gorge from a stranger’s hand, and rend their master. + +NOTE: +_466 Repulse is “Shelley, Errata”, edition 1822; Repulsed edition 1822. + +HASSAN: +Latmos, and Ampelos, and Phanae saw _470 +The wreck— + +MAHMUD: +The caves of the Icarian isles +Told each to the other in loud mockery, +And with the tongue as of a thousand echoes, +First of the sea-convulsing fight—and, then,— +Thou darest to speak—senseless are the mountains: _475 +Interpret thou their voice! + +NOTE: +_472 Told Errata, Wms. transcript; Hold edition 1822. + +HASSAN: +My presence bore +A part in that day’s shame. The Grecian fleet +Bore down at daybreak from the North, and hung +As multitudinous on the ocean line, +As cranes upon the cloudless Thracian wind. _480 +Our squadron, convoying ten thousand men, +Was stretching towards Nauplia when the battle +Was kindled.— +First through the hail of our artillery +The agile Hydriote barks with press of sail _485 +Dashed:—ship to ship, cannon to cannon, man +To man were grappled in the embrace of war, +Inextricable but by death or victory. +The tempest of the raging fight convulsed +To its crystalline depths that stainless sea, _490 +And shook Heaven’s roof of golden morning clouds, +Poised on an hundred azure mountain-isles. +In the brief trances of the artillery +One cry from the destroyed and the destroyer +Rose, and a cloud of desolation wrapped _495 +The unforeseen event, till the north wind +Sprung from the sea, lifting the heavy veil +Of battle-smoke—then victory—victory! +For, as we thought, three frigates from Algiers +Bore down from Naxos to our aid, but soon _500 +The abhorred cross glimmered behind, before, +Among, around us; and that fatal sign +Dried with its beams the strength in Moslem hearts, +As the sun drinks the dew.—What more? We fled!— +Our noonday path over the sanguine foam _505 +Was beaconed,—and the glare struck the sun pale,— +By our consuming transports: the fierce light +Made all the shadows of our sails blood-red, +And every countenance blank. Some ships lay feeding +The ravening fire, even to the water’s level; _510 +Some were blown up; some, settling heavily, +Sunk; and the shrieks of our companions died +Upon the wind, that bore us fast and far, +Even after they were dead. Nine thousand perished! +We met the vultures legioned in the air _515 +Stemming the torrent of the tainted wind; +They, screaming from their cloudy mountain-peaks, +Stooped through the sulphurous battle-smoke and perched +Each on the weltering carcase that we loved, +Like its ill angel or its damned soul, _520 +Riding upon the bosom of the sea. +We saw the dog-fish hastening to their feast. +Joy waked the voiceless people of the sea, +And ravening Famine left his ocean cave +To dwell with War, with us, and with Despair. _525 +We met night three hours to the west of Patmos, +And with night, tempest— + +NOTES: +_503 in edition 1822; of editions 1839. +_527 And edition 1822; As editions 1839. + +MAHMUD: +Cease! + +[ENTER A MESSENGER.] + +MESSENGER: +Your Sublime Highness, +That Christian hound, the Muscovite Ambassador, +Has left the city.—If the rebel fleet +Had anchored in the port, had victory _530 +Crowned the Greek legions in the Hippodrome, +Panic were tamer.—Obedience and Mutiny, +Like giants in contention planet-struck, +Stand gazing on each other.—There is peace +In Stamboul.— + +MAHMUD: +Is the grave not calmer still? _535 +Its ruins shall be mine. + +HASSAN: +Fear not the Russian: +The tiger leagues not with the stag at bay +Against the hunter.—Cunning, base, and cruel, +He crouches, watching till the spoil be won, +And must be paid for his reserve in blood. _540 +After the war is fought, yield the sleek Russian +That which thou canst not keep, his deserved portion +Of blood, which shall not flow through streets and fields, +Rivers and seas, like that which we may win, +But stagnate in the veins of Christian slaves! _545 + +[ENTER SECOND MESSENGER.] + +SECOND MESSENGER: +Nauplia, Tripolizza, Mothon, Athens, +Navarin, Artas, Monembasia, +Corinth, and Thebes are carried by assault, +And every Islamite who made his dogs +Fat with the flesh of Galilean slaves _550 +Passed at the edge of the sword: the lust of blood, +Which made our warriors drunk, is quenched in death; +But like a fiery plague breaks out anew +In deeds which make the Christian cause look pale +In its own light. The garrison of Patras _555 +Has store but for ten days, nor is there hope +But from the Briton: at once slave and tyrant, +His wishes still are weaker than his fears, +Or he would sell what faith may yet remain +From the oaths broke in Genoa and in Norway; _560 +And if you buy him not, your treasury +Is empty even of promises—his own coin. +The freedman of a western poet-chief +Holds Attica with seven thousand rebels, +And has beat back the Pacha of Negropont: _565 +The aged Ali sits in Yanina +A crownless metaphor of empire: +His name, that shadow of his withered might, +Holds our besieging army like a spell +In prey to famine, pest, and mutiny; _570 +He, bastioned in his citadel, looks forth +Joyless upon the sapphire lake that mirrors +The ruins of the city where he reigned +Childless and sceptreless. The Greek has reaped +The costly harvest his own blood matured, _575 +Not the sower, Ali—who has bought a truce +From Ypsilanti with ten camel-loads +Of Indian gold. + +NOTE: +_563 freedman edition 1822; freeman editions 1839. + +[ENTER A THIRD MESSENGER.] + +MAHMUD: +What more? + +THIRD MESSENGER: +The Christian tribes +Of Lebanon and the Syrian wilderness +Are in revolt;—Damascus, Hems, Aleppo _580 +Tremble;—the Arab menaces Medina, +The Aethiop has intrenched himself in Sennaar, +And keeps the Egyptian rebel well employed, +Who denies homage, claims investiture +As price of tardy aid. Persia demands _585 +The cities on the Tigris, and the Georgians +Refuse their living tribute. Crete and Cyprus, +Like mountain-twins that from each other’s veins +Catch the volcano-fire and earthquake-spasm, +Shake in the general fever. Through the city, _590 +Like birds before a storm, the Santons shriek, +And prophesyings horrible and new +Are heard among the crowd: that sea of men +Sleeps on the wrecks it made, breathless and still. +A Dervise, learned in the Koran, preaches _595 +That it is written how the sins of Islam +Must raise up a destroyer even now. +The Greeks expect a Saviour from the West, +Who shall not come, men say, in clouds and glory, +But in the omnipresence of that Spirit _600 +In which all live and are. Ominous signs +Are blazoned broadly on the noonday sky: +One saw a red cross stamped upon the sun; +It has rained blood; and monstrous births declare +The secret wrath of Nature and her Lord. _605 +The army encamped upon the Cydaris +Was roused last night by the alarm of battle, +And saw two hosts conflicting in the air, +The shadows doubtless of the unborn time +Cast on the mirror of the night. While yet _610 +The fight hung balanced, there arose a storm +Which swept the phantoms from among the stars. +At the third watch the Spirit of the Plague +Was heard abroad flapping among the tents; +Those who relieved watch found the sentinels dead. _615 +The last news from the camp is, that a thousand +Have sickened, and— + +[ENTER A FOURTH MESSENGER.] + +MAHMUD: +And thou, pale ghost, dim shadow +Of some untimely rumour, speak! + +FOURTH MESSENGER: +One comes +Fainting with toil, covered with foam and blood: +He stood, he says, on Chelonites’ _620 +Promontory, which o’erlooks the isles that groan +Under the Briton’s frown, and all their waters +Then trembling in the splendour of the moon, +When as the wandering clouds unveiled or hid +Her boundless light, he saw two adverse fleets _625 +Stalk through the night in the horizon’s glimmer, +Mingling fierce thunders and sulphureous gleams, +And smoke which strangled every infant wind +That soothed the silver clouds through the deep air. +At length the battle slept, but the Sirocco _630 +Awoke, and drove his flock of thunder-clouds +Over the sea-horizon, blotting out +All objects—save that in the faint moon-glimpse +He saw, or dreamed he saw, the Turkish admiral +And two the loftiest of our ships of war, _635 +With the bright image of that Queen of Heaven, +Who hid, perhaps, her face for grief, reversed; +And the abhorred cross— + +NOTE: +_620 on Chelonites’]on Chelonites “Errata”; + upon Clelonite’s edition 1822; + upon Clelonit’s editions 1839. + +[ENTER AN ATTENDANT.] + +ATTENDANT: +Your Sublime Highness, +The Jew, who— + +MAHMUD: +Could not come more seasonably: +Bid him attend. I’ll hear no more! too long _640 +We gaze on danger through the mist of fear, +And multiply upon our shattered hopes +The images of ruin. Come what will! +To-morrow and to-morrow are as lamps +Set in our path to light us to the edge _645 +Through rough and smooth, nor can we suffer aught +Which He inflicts not in whose hand we are. + +[EXEUNT.] + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Would I were the winged cloud +Of a tempest swift and loud! +I would scorn _650 +The smile of morn +And the wave where the moonrise is born! +I would leave +The spirits of eve +A shroud for the corpse of the day to weave _655 +From other threads than mine! +Bask in the deep blue noon divine. +Who would? Not I. + +NOTE: +_657 the deep blue “Errata”, Wms. transcript; the blue edition 1822. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Whither to fly? + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Where the rocks that gird th’ Aegean _660 +Echo to the battle paean +Of the free— +I would flee +A tempestuous herald of victory! +My golden rain +For the Grecian slain _665 +Should mingle in tears with the bloody main, +And my solemn thunder-knell +Should ring to the world the passing-bell +Of Tyranny! _670 + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Ah king! wilt thou chain +The rack and the rain? +Wilt thou fetter the lightning and hurricane? +The storms are free, +But we— _675 + +CHORUS: +O Slavery! thou frost of the world’s prime, +Killing its flowers and leaving its thorns bare! +Thy touch has stamped these limbs with crime, +These brows thy branding garland bear, +But the free heart, the impassive soul _680 +Scorn thy control! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Let there be light! said Liberty, +And like sunrise from the sea, +Athens arose!—Around her born, +Shone like mountains in the morn _685 +Glorious states;—and are they now +Ashes, wrecks, oblivion? + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Go, +Where Thermae and Asopus swallowed +Persia, as the sand does foam: +Deluge upon deluge followed, _690 +Discord, Macedon, and Rome: +And lastly thou! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Temples and towers, +Citadels and marts, and they +Who live and die there, have been ours, +And may be thine, and must decay; _695 +But Greece and her foundations are +Built below the tide of war, +Based on the crystalline sea +Of thought and its eternity; +Her citizens, imperial spirits, _700 +Rule the present from the past, +On all this world of men inherits +Their seal is set. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Hear ye the blast, +Whose Orphic thunder thrilling calls +From ruin her Titanian walls? _705 +Whose spirit shakes the sapless bones +Of Slavery? Argos, Corinth, Crete +Hear, and from their mountain thrones +The daemons and the nymphs repeat +The harmony. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +I hear! I hear! _710 + +SEMICHORUS 2: +The world’s eyeless charioteer, +Destiny, is hurrying by! +What faith is crushed, what empire bleeds +Beneath her earthquake-footed steeds? +What eagle-winged victory sits _715 +At her right hand? what shadow flits +Before? what splendour rolls behind? +Ruin and renovation cry +‘Who but We?’ + +SEMICHORUS 1: +I hear! I hear! +The hiss as of a rushing wind, _720 +The roar as of an ocean foaming, +The thunder as of earthquake coming. +I hear! I hear! +The crash as of an empire falling, +The shrieks as of a people calling _725 +‘Mercy! mercy!’—How they thrill! +Then a shout of ‘kill! kill! kill!’ +And then a small still voice, thus— + +SEMICHORUS 2: +For +Revenge and Wrong bring forth their kind, +The foul cubs like their parents are, _730 +Their den is in the guilty mind, +And Conscience feeds them with despair. + +NOTE: +_728 For edition 1822, Wms. transcript; + Fear cj. Fleay, Forman, Dowden. See Editor’s Note. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +In sacred Athens, near the fane +Of Wisdom, Pity’s altar stood: +Serve not the unknown God in vain. _735 +But pay that broken shrine again, +Love for hate and tears for blood. + +[ENTER MAHMUD AND AHASUERUS.] + +MAHMUD: +Thou art a man, thou sayest, even as we. + +AHASUERUS: +No more! + +MAHMUD: +But raised above thy fellow-men +By thought, as I by power. + +AHASUERUS: +Thou sayest so. _740 + +MAHMUD: +Thou art an adept in the difficult lore +Of Greek and Frank philosophy; thou numberest +The flowers, and thou measurest the stars; +Thou severest element from element; +Thy spirit is present in the Past, and sees _745 +The birth of this old world through all its cycles +Of desolation and of loveliness, +And when man was not, and how man became +The monarch and the slave of this low sphere, +And all its narrow circles—it is much— _750 +I honour thee, and would be what thou art +Were I not what I am; but the unborn hour, +Cradled in fear and hope, conflicting storms, +Who shall unveil? Nor thou, nor I, nor any +Mighty or wise. I apprehended not _755 +What thou hast taught me, but I now perceive +That thou art no interpreter of dreams; +Thou dost not own that art, device, or God, +Can make the Future present—let it come! +Moreover thou disdainest us and ours; _760 +Thou art as God, whom thou contemplatest. + +AHASUERUS: +Disdain thee?—not the worm beneath thy feet! +The Fathomless has care for meaner things +Than thou canst dream, and has made pride for those +Who would be what they may not, or would seem _765 +That which they are not. Sultan! talk no more +Of thee and me, the Future and the Past; +But look on that which cannot change—the One, +The unborn and the undying. Earth and ocean, +Space, and the isles of life or light that gem _770 +The sapphire floods of interstellar air, +This firmament pavilioned upon chaos, +With all its cressets of immortal fire, +Whose outwall, bastioned impregnably +Against the escape of boldest thoughts, repels them _775 +As Calpe the Atlantic clouds—this Whole +Of suns, and worlds, and men, and beasts, and flowers, +With all the silent or tempestuous workings +By which they have been, are, or cease to be, +Is but a vision;—all that it inherits _780 +Are motes of a sick eye, bubbles and dreams; +Thought is its cradle and its grave, nor less +The Future and the Past are idle shadows +Of thought’s eternal flight—they have no being: +Nought is but that which feels itself to be. _785 + +NOTE: +_762 thy edition 1822; my editions 1839. + +MAHMUD: +What meanest thou? Thy words stream like a tempest +Of dazzling mist within my brain—they shake +The earth on which I stand, and hang like night +On Heaven above me. What can they avail? +They cast on all things surest, brightest, best, _790 +Doubt, insecurity, astonishment. + +AHASUERUS: +Mistake me not! All is contained in each. +Dodona’s forest to an acorn’s cup +Is that which has been, or will be, to that +Which is—the absent to the present. Thought _795 +Alone, and its quick elements, Will, Passion, +Reason, Imagination, cannot die; +They are, what that which they regard appears, +The stuff whence mutability can weave +All that it hath dominion o’er, worlds, worms, _800 +Empires, and superstitions. What has thought +To do with time, or place, or circumstance? +Wouldst thou behold the Future?—ask and have! +Knock and it shall be opened—look, and lo! +The coming age is shadowed on the Past _805 +As on a glass. + +MAHMUD: +Wild, wilder thoughts convulse +My spirit—Did not Mahomet the Second +Win Stamboul? + +AHASUERUS: +Thou wouldst ask that giant spirit +The written fortunes of thy house and faith. +Thou wouldst cite one out of the grave to tell _810 +How what was born in blood must die. + +MAHMUD: +Thy words +Have power on me! I see— + +AHASUERUS: +What hearest thou? + +MAHMUD: +A far whisper— +Terrible silence. + +AHASUERUS: +What succeeds? + +MAHMUD: +The sound +As of the assault of an imperial city, _815 +The hiss of inextinguishable fire, +The roar of giant cannon; the earthquaking +Fall of vast bastions and precipitous towers, +The shock of crags shot from strange enginery, +The clash of wheels, and clang of armed hoofs, _820 +And crash of brazen mail as of the wreck +Of adamantine mountains—the mad blast +Of trumpets, and the neigh of raging steeds, +The shrieks of women whose thrill jars the blood, +And one sweet laugh, most horrible to hear, _825 +As of a joyous infant waked and playing +With its dead mother’s breast, and now more loud +The mingled battle-cry,—ha! hear I not +‘En touto nike!’ ‘Allah-illa-Allah!‘? + +AHASUERUS: +The sulphurous mist is raised—thou seest— + +MAHMUD: +A chasm, _830 +As of two mountains in the wall of Stamboul; +And in that ghastly breach the Islamites, +Like giants on the ruins of a world, +Stand in the light of sunrise. In the dust +Glimmers a kingless diadem, and one _835 +Of regal port has cast himself beneath +The stream of war. Another proudly clad +In golden arms spurs a Tartarian barb +Into the gap, and with his iron mace +Directs the torrent of that tide of men, _840 +And seems—he is—Mahomet! + +AHASUERUS: +What thou seest +Is but the ghost of thy forgotten dream. +A dream itself, yet less, perhaps, than that +Thou call’st reality. Thou mayst behold +How cities, on which Empire sleeps enthroned, _845 +Bow their towered crests to mutability. +Poised by the flood, e’en on the height thou holdest, +Thou mayst now learn how the full tide of power +Ebbs to its depths.—Inheritor of glory, +Conceived in darkness, born in blood, and nourished _850 +With tears and toil, thou seest the mortal throes +Of that whose birth was but the same. The Past +Now stands before thee like an Incarnation +Of the To-come; yet wouldst thou commune with +That portion of thyself which was ere thou _855 +Didst start for this brief race whose crown is death, +Dissolve with that strong faith and fervent passion +Which called it from the uncreated deep, +Yon cloud of war, with its tempestuous phantoms +Of raging death; and draw with mighty will _860 +The imperial shade hither. + +[EXIT AHASUERUS.] + +[THE PHANTOM OF MAHOMET THE SECOND APPEARS.] + +MAHMUD: +Approach! + +PHANTOM: +I come +Thence whither thou must go! The grave is fitter +To take the living than give up the dead; +Yet has thy faith prevailed, and I am here. +The heavy fragments of the power which fell _865 +When I arose, like shapeless crags and clouds, +Hang round my throne on the abyss, and voices +Of strange lament soothe my supreme repose, +Wailing for glory never to return.— +A later Empire nods in its decay: _870 +The autumn of a greener faith is come, +And wolfish change, like winter, howls to strip +The foliage in which Fame, the eagle, built +Her aerie, while Dominion whelped below. +The storm is in its branches, and the frost _875 +Is on its leaves, and the blank deep expects +Oblivion on oblivion, spoil on spoil, +Ruin on ruin:—Thou art slow, my son; +The Anarchs of the world of darkness keep +A throne for thee, round which thine empire lies _880 +Boundless and mute; and for thy subjects thou, +Like us, shalt rule the ghosts of murdered life, +The phantoms of the powers who rule thee now— +Mutinous passions, and conflicting fears, +And hopes that sate themselves on dust, and die!— _885 +Stripped of their mortal strength, as thou of thine. +Islam must fall, but we will reign together +Over its ruins in the world of death:— +And if the trunk be dry, yet shall the seed +Unfold itself even in the shape of that _890 +Which gathers birth in its decay. Woe! woe! +To the weak people tangled in the grasp +Of its last spasms. + +MAHMUD: +Spirit, woe to all! +Woe to the wronged and the avenger! Woe +To the destroyer, woe to the destroyed! _895 +Woe to the dupe, and woe to the deceiver! +Woe to the oppressed, and woe to the oppressor! +Woe both to those that suffer and inflict; +Those who are born and those who die! but say, +Imperial shadow of the thing I am, _900 +When, how, by whom, Destruction must accomplish +Her consummation! + +PHANTOM: +Ask the cold pale Hour, +Rich in reversion of impending death, +When HE shall fall upon whose ripe gray hairs +Sit Care, and Sorrow, and Infirmity— _905 +The weight which Crime, whose wings are plumed with years, +Leaves in his flight from ravaged heart to heart +Over the heads of men, under which burthen +They bow themselves unto the grave: fond wretch! +He leans upon his crutch, and talks of years _910 +To come, and how in hours of youth renewed +He will renew lost joys, and— + +VOICE WITHOUT: +Victory! Victory! + +[THE PHANTOM VANISHES.] + +MAHMUD: +What sound of the importunate earth has broken +My mighty trance? + +VOICE WITHOUT: +Victory! Victory! + +MAHMUD: +Weak lightning before darkness! poor faint smile _915 +Of dying Islam! Voice which art the response +Of hollow weakness! Do I wake and live? +Were there such things, or may the unquiet brain, +Vexed by the wise mad talk of the old Jew, +Have shaped itself these shadows of its fear? _920 +It matters not!—for nought we see or dream, +Possess, or lose, or grasp at, can be worth +More than it gives or teaches. Come what may, +The Future must become the Past, and I +As they were to whom once this present hour, _925 +This gloomy crag of time to which I cling, +Seemed an Elysian isle of peace and joy +Never to be attained.—I must rebuke +This drunkenness of triumph ere it die, +And dying, bring despair. Victory! poor slaves! _930 + +[EXIT MAHMUD.] + +VOICE WITHOUT: +Shout in the jubilee of death! The Greeks +Are as a brood of lions in the net +Round which the kingly hunters of the earth +Stand smiling. Anarchs, ye whose daily food +Are curses, groans, and gold, the fruit of death, _935 +From Thule to the girdle of the world, +Come, feast! the board groans with the flesh of men; +The cup is foaming with a nation’s blood, +Famine and Thirst await! eat, drink, and die! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Victorious Wrong, with vulture scream, _940 +Salutes the rising sun, pursues the flying day! +I saw her, ghastly as a tyrant’s dream, +Perch on the trembling pyramid of night, +Beneath which earth and all her realms pavilioned lay +In visions of the dawning undelight. _945 +Who shall impede her flight? +Who rob her of her prey? + +VOICE WITHOUT: +Victory! Victory! Russia’s famished eagles +Dare not to prey beneath the crescent’s light. +Impale the remnant of the Greeks! despoil! _950 +Violate! make their flesh cheaper than dust! + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Thou voice which art +The herald of the ill in splendour hid! +Thou echo of the hollow heart +Of monarchy, bear me to thine abode _955 +When desolation flashes o’er a world destroyed: +Oh, bear me to those isles of jagged cloud +Which float like mountains on the earthquake, mid +The momentary oceans of the lightning, +Or to some toppling promontory proud _960 +Of solid tempest whose black pyramid, +Riven, overhangs the founts intensely bright’ning +Of those dawn-tinted deluges of fire +Before their waves expire, +When heaven and earth are light, and only light _965 +In the thunder-night! + +NOTE: +_958 earthquake edition 1822; earthquakes editions 1839. + +VOICE WITHOUT: +Victory! Victory! Austria, Russia, England, +And that tame serpent, that poor shadow, France, +Cry peace, and that means death when monarchs speak. +Ho, there! bring torches, sharpen those red stakes, _970 +These chains are light, fitter for slaves and poisoners +Than Greeks. Kill! plunder! burn! let none remain. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Alas! for Liberty! +If numbers, wealth, or unfulfilling years, +Or fate, can quell the free! _975 +Alas! for Virtue, when +Torments, or contumely, or the sneers +Of erring judging men +Can break the heart where it abides. +Alas! if Love, whose smile makes this obscure world splendid, _980 +Can change with its false times and tides, +Like hope and terror,— +Alas for Love! +And Truth, who wanderest lone and unbefriended, +If thou canst veil thy lie-consuming mirror _985 +Before the dazzled eyes of Error, +Alas for thee! Image of the Above. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Repulse, with plumes from conquest torn, +Led the ten thousand from the limits of the morn +Through many an hostile Anarchy! _990 +At length they wept aloud, and cried, ‘The Sea! the Sea!’ +Through exile, persecution, and despair, +Rome was, and young Atlantis shall become +The wonder, or the terror, or the tomb +Of all whose step wakes Power lulled in her savage lair: _995 +But Greece was as a hermit-child, +Whose fairest thoughts and limbs were built +To woman’s growth, by dreams so mild, +She knew not pain or guilt; +And now, O Victory, blush! and Empire, tremble _1000 +When ye desert the free— +If Greece must be +A wreck, yet shall its fragments reassemble, +And build themselves again impregnably +In a diviner clime, _1005 +To Amphionic music on some Cape sublime, +Which frowns above the idle foam of Time. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Let the tyrants rule the desert they have made; +Let the free possess the Paradise they claim; +Be the fortune of our fierce oppressors weighed _1010 +With our ruin, our resistance, and our name! + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Our dead shall be the seed of their decay, +Our survivors be the shadow of their pride, +Our adversity a dream to pass away— +Their dishonour a remembrance to abide! _1015 + +VOICE WITHOUT: +Victory! Victory! The bought Briton sends +The keys of ocean to the Islamite.— +Now shall the blazon of the cross be veiled, +And British skill directing Othman might, +Thunder-strike rebel victory. Oh, keep holy _1020 +This jubilee of unrevenged blood! +Kill! crush! despoil! Let not a Greek escape! + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Darkness has dawned in the East +On the noon of time: +The death-birds descend to their feast _1025 +From the hungry clime. +Let Freedom and Peace flee far +To a sunnier strand, +And follow Love’s folding-star +To the Evening land! _1030 + +SEMICHORUS 2: +The young moon has fed +Her exhausted horn +With the sunset’s fire: +The weak day is dead, +But the night is not born; _1035 +And, like loveliness panting with wild desire +While it trembles with fear and delight, +Hesperus flies from awakening night, +And pants in its beauty and speed with light +Fast-flashing, soft, and bright. _1040 +Thou beacon of love! thou lamp of the free! +Guide us far, far away, +To climes where now veiled by the ardour of day +Thou art hidden +From waves on which weary Noon _1045 +Faints in her summer swoon, +Between kingless continents sinless as Eden, +Around mountains and islands inviolably +Pranked on the sapphire sea. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +Through the sunset of hope, _1050 +Like the shapes of a dream. +What Paradise islands of glory gleam! +Beneath Heaven’s cope, +Their shadows more clear float by— +The sound of their oceans, the light of their sky, _1055 +The music and fragrance their solitudes breathe +Burst, like morning on dream, or like Heaven on death, +Through the walls of our prison; +And Greece, which was dead, is arisen! + +NOTE: +_1057 dream edition 1822; dreams editions 1839. + +CHORUS: +The world’s great age begins anew, _1060 +The golden years return, +The earth doth like a snake renew +Her winter weeds outworn: +Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam, +Like wrecks of a dissolving dream. _1065 + +A brighter Hellas rears its mountains +From waves serener far; +A new Peneus rolls his fountains +Against the morning star. +Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep _1070 +Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. + +A loftier Argo cleaves the main, +Fraught with a later prize; +Another Orpheus sings again, +And loves, and weeps, and dies. _1075 +A new Ulysses leaves once more +Calypso for his native shore. + +Oh, write no more the tale of Troy, +If earth Death’s scroll must be! +Nor mix with Laian rage the joy _1080 +Which dawns upon the free: +Although a subtler Sphinx renew +Riddles of death Thebes never knew. + +Another Athens shall arise, +And to remoter time _1085 +Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, +The splendour of its prime; +And leave, if nought so bright may live, +All earth can take or Heaven can give. + +Saturn and Love their long repose _1090 +Shall burst, more bright and good +Than all who fell, than One who rose, +Than many unsubdued: +Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers, +But votive tears and symbol flowers. _1095 + +Oh, cease! must hate and death return? +Cease! must men kill and die? +Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn +Of bitter prophecy. +The world is weary of the past, _1100 +Oh, might it die or rest at last! + +NOTES: +_1068 his edition 1822; its editions 1839. +_1072 Argo]Argos edition 1822. +_1091-_1093 See Editor’s note. +_1091 bright editions 1839; wise edition 1829 (ed. Galignani). +_1093 unsubdued editions 1839; unwithstood edition 1829 (ed. Galignani). + + +NOTES. + +(1) THE QUENCHLESS ASHES OF MILAN [L. 60]. + +Milan was the centre of the resistance of the Lombard league against +the Austrian tyrant. Frederic Barbarossa burnt the city to the ground, +but liberty lived in its ashes, and it rose like an exhalation from +its ruin. See Sismondi’s “Histoire des Republiques Italiennes”, a book +which has done much towards awakening the Italians to an imitation of +their great ancestors. + +(2) THE CHORUS [L. 197]. + +The popular notions of Christianity are represented in this chorus as +true in their relation to the worship they superseded, and that which +in all probability they will supersede, without considering their +merits in a relation more universal. The first stanza contrasts the +immortality of the living and thinking beings which inhabit the +planets, and to use a common and inadequate phrase, “clothe themselves +in matter”, with the transience of the noblest manifestations of the +external world. + +The concluding verses indicate a progressive state of more or loss +exalted existence, according to the degree of perfection which every +distinct intelligence may have attained. Let it not be supposed that I +mean to dogmatise upon a subject, concerning which all men are equally +ignorant, or that I think the Gordian knot of the origin of evil can +be disentangled by that or any similar assertions. The received +hypothesis of a Being resembling men in the moral attributes of His +nature, having called us out of non-existence, and after inflicting on +us the misery of the commission of error, should superadd that of the +punishment and the privations consequent upon it, still would remain +inexplicable and incredible. That there is a true solution of the +riddle, and that in our present state that solution is unattainable by +us, are propositions which may be regarded as equally certain: +meanwhile, as it is the province of the poet to attach himself to +those ideas which exalt and ennoble humanity, let him be permitted to +have conjectured the condition of that futurity towards which we are +all impelled by an inextinguishable thirst for immortality. Until +better arguments can be produced than sophisms which disgrace the +cause, this desire itself must remain the strongest and the only +presumption that eternity is the inheritance of every thinking being. + +(3) NO HOARY PRIESTS AFTER THAT PATRIARCH [L. 245]. + +The Greek Patriarch, after haying been compelled to fulminate an +anathema against the insurgents, was put to death by the Turks. + +Fortunately the Greeks have been taught that they cannot buy security +by degradation, and the Turks, though equally cruel, are less cunning +than the smooth-faced tyrants of Europe. As to the anathema, his +Holiness might as well have thrown his mitre at Mount Athos for any +effect that it produced. The chiefs of the Greeks are almost all men +of comprehension and enlightened views on religion and politics. + +(4) THE FREEDMAN OF A WESTERN POET-CHIEF [L. 563]. + +A Greek who had been Lord Byron’s servant commands the insurgents in +Attica. This Greek, Lord Byron informs me, though a poet and an +enthusiastic patriot, gave him rather the idea of a timid and +unenterprising person. It appears that circumstances make men what +they are, and that we all contain the germ of a degree of degradation +or of greatness whose connection with our character is determined by +events. + +(5) THE GREEKS EXPECT A SAVIOUR FROM THE WEST [L. 598]. + +It is reported that this Messiah had arrived at a seaport near +Lacedaemon in an American brig. The association of names and ideas is +irresistibly ludicrous, but the prevalence of such a rumour strongly +marks the state of popular enthusiasm in Greece. + +(6) THE SOUND AS OF THE ASSAULT OF AN IMPERIAL CITY [LL. 814-15]. + +For the vision of Mahmud of the taking of Constantinople in 1453, see +Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”, volume 12 page 223. + +The manner of the invocation of the spirit of Mahomet the Second will +be censured as over subtle. I could easily have made the Jew a regular +conjuror, and the Phantom an ordinary ghost. I have preferred to +represent the Jew as disclaiming all pretension, or even belief, in +supernatural agency, and as tempting Mahmud to that state of mind in +which ideas may be supposed to assume the force of sensations through +the confusion of thought with the objects of thought, and the excess +of passion animating the creations of imagination. + +It is a sort of natural magic, susceptible of being exercised in a +degree by any one who should have made himself master of the secret +associations of another’s thoughts. + +(7) THE CHORUS [L. 1060]. + +The final chorus is indistinct and obscure, as the event of the living +drama whose arrival it foretells. Prophecies of wars, and rumours of +wars, etc., may safely be made by poet or prophet in any age, but to +anticipate however darkly a period of regeneration and happiness is a +more hazardous exercise of the faculty which bards possess or feign. +It will remind the reader ‘magno NEC proximus intervallo’ of Isaiah +and Virgil, whose ardent spirits overleaping the actual reign of evil +which we endure and bewail, already saw the possible and perhaps +approaching state of society in which the ‘lion shall lie down with +the lamb,’ and ‘omnis feret omnia tellus.’ Let these great names be my +authority and my excuse. + +(8) SATURN AND LOVE THEIR LONG REPOSE SHALL BURST [L. 1090]. + +Saturn and Love were among the deities of a real or imaginary state of +innocence and happiness. ALL those WHO FELL, or the Gods of Greece, +Asia, and Egypt; the ONE WHO ROSE, or Jesus Christ, at whose +appearance the idols of the Pagan World wore amerced of their worship; +and the MANY UNSUBDUED, or the monstrous objects of the idolatry of +China, India, the Antarctic islands, and the native tribes of America, +certainly have reigned over the understandings of men in conjunction +or in succession, during periods in which all we know of evil has been +in a state of portentous, and, until the revival of learning and the +arts, perpetually increasing, activity. The Grecian gods seem indeed +to have been personally more innocent, although it cannot be said, +that as far as temperance and chastity are concerned, they gave so +edifying an example as their successor. The sublime human character of +Jesus Christ was deformed by an imputed identification with a Power, +who tempted, betrayed, and punished the innocent beings who were +called into existence by His sole will; and for the period of a +thousand years, the spirit of this most just, wise, and benevolent of +men has been propitiated with myriads of hecatombs of those who +approached the nearest to His innocence and wisdom, sacrificed under +every aggravation of atrocity and variety of torture. The horrors of +the Mexican, the Peruvian, and the Indian superstitions are well +known. + +NOTE ON HELLAS, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +The South of Europe was in a state of great political excitement at +the beginning of the year 1821. The Spanish Revolution had been a +signal to Italy; secrete societies were formed; and, when Naples rose +to declare the Constitution, the call was responded to from Brundusium +to the foot of the Alps. To crush these attempts to obtain liberty, +early in 1821 the Austrians poured their armies into the Peninsula: at +first their coming rather seemed to add energy and resolution to a +people long enslaved. The Piedmontese asserted their freedom; Genoa +threw off the yoke of the King of Sardinia; and, as if in playful +imitation, the people of the little state of Massa and Carrara gave +the conge to their sovereign, and set up a republic. + +Tuscany alone was perfectly tranquil. It was said that the Austrian +minister presented a list of sixty Carbonari to the Grand Duke, urging +their imprisonment; and the Grand Duke replied, ‘I do not know whether +these sixty men are Carbonari, but I know, if I imprison them, I shall +directly have sixty thousand start up.’ But, though the Tuscans had no +desire to disturb the paternal government beneath whose shelter they +slumbered, they regarded the progress of the various Italian +revolutions with intense interest, and hatred for the Austrian was +warm in every bosom. But they had slender hopes; they knew that the +Neapolitans would offer no fit resistance to the regular German +troops, and that the overthrow of the constitution in Naples would act +as a decisive blow against all struggles for liberty in Italy. + +We have seen the rise and progress of reform. But the Holy Alliance +was alive and active in those days, and few could dream of the +peaceful triumph of liberty. It seemed then that the armed assertion +of freedom in the South of Europe was the only hope of the liberals, +as, if it prevailed, the nations of the north would imitate the +example. Happily the reverse has proved the fact. The countries +accustomed to the exercise of the privileges of freemen, to a limited +extent, have extended, and are extending, these limits. Freedom and +knowledge have now a chance of proceeding hand in hand; and, if it +continue thus, we may hope for the durability of both. Then, as I have +said—in 1821—Shelley, as well as every other lover of liberty, +looked upon the struggles in Spain and Italy as decisive of the +destinies of the world, probably for centuries to come. The interest +he took in the progress of affairs was intense. When Genoa declared +itself free, his hopes were at their highest. Day after day he read +the bulletins of the Austrian army, and sought eagerly to gather +tokens of its defeat. He heard of the revolt of Genoa with emotions of +transport. His whole heart and soul were in the triumph of the cause. +We were living at Pisa at that time; and several well-informed +Italians, at the head of whom we may place the celebrated Vacca, were +accustomed to seek for sympathy in their hopes from Shelley: they did +not find such for the despair they too generally experienced, founded +on contempt for their southern countrymen. + +While the fate of the progress of the Austrian armies then invading +Naples was yet in suspense, the news of another revolution filled him +with exultation. We had formed the acquaintance at Pisa of several +Constantinopolitan Greeks, of the family of Prince Caradja, formerly +Hospodar of Wallachia; who, hearing that the bowstring, the accustomed +finale of his viceroyalty, was on the road to him, escaped with his +treasures, and took up his abode in Tuscany. Among these was the +gentleman to whom the drama of “Hellas” is dedicated. Prince +Mavrocordato was warmed by those aspirations for the independence of +his country which filled the hearts of many of his countrymen. He +often intimated the possibility of an insurrection in Greece; but we +had no idea of its being so near at hand, when, on the 1st of April +1821, he called on Shelley, bringing the proclamation of his cousin, +Prince Ypsilanti, and, radiant with exultation and delight, declared +that henceforth Greece would be free. + +Shelley had hymned the dawn of liberty in Spain and Naples, in two +odes dictated by the warmest enthusiasm; he felt himself naturally +impelled to decorate with poetry the uprise of the descendants of that +people whose works he regarded with deep admiration, and to adopt the +vaticinatory character in prophesying their success. “Hellas” was +written in a moment of enthusiasm. It is curious to remark how well he +overcomes the difficulty of forming a drama out of such scant +materials. His prophecies, indeed, came true in their general, not +their particular, purport. He did not foresee the death of Lord +Londonderry, which was to be the epoch of a change in English +politics, particularly as regarded foreign affairs; nor that the navy +of his country would fight for instead of against the Greeks, and by +the battle of Navarino secure their enfranchisement from the Turks. +Almost against reason, as it appeared to him, he resolved to believe +that Greece would prove triumphant; and in this spirit, auguring +ultimate good, yet grieving over the vicissitudes to be endured in the +interval, he composed his drama. + +“Hellas” was among the last of his compositions, and is among the most +beautiful. The choruses are singularly imaginative, and melodious in +their versification. There are some stanzas that beautifully exemplify +Shelley’s peculiar style; as, for instance, the assertion of the +intellectual empire which must be for ever the inheritance of the +country of Homer, Sophocles, and Plato:— + +‘But Greece and her foundations are +Built below the tide of war, +Based on the crystalline sea +Of thought and its eternity.’ + +And again, that philosophical truth felicitously imaged forth— + +‘Revenge and Wrong bring forth their kind, +The foul cubs like their parents are, +Their den is in the guilty mind, +And Conscience feeds them with despair.’ + +The conclusion of the last chorus is among the most beautiful of his +lyrics. The imagery is distinct and majestic; the prophecy, such as +poets love to dwell upon, the Regeneration of Mankind—and that +regeneration reflecting back splendour on the foregone time, from +which it inherits so much of intellectual wealth, and memory of past +virtuous deeds, as must render the possession of happiness and peace +of tenfold value. + +*** + + +FRAGMENTS OF AN UNFINISHED DRAMA. + +[Published in part (lines 1-69, 100-120) by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous +Poems”, 1824; and again, with the notes, in “Poetical Works”, 1839. +Lines 127-238 were printed by Dr. Garnett under the title of “The +Magic Plant” in his “Relics of Shelley”, 1862. The whole was edited in +its present form from the Boscombe manuscript by Mr. W.M. Rossetti in +1870 (“Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, Moxon, 2 volumes.). +‘Written at Pisa during the late winter or early spring of 1822’ +(Garnett).] + +The following fragments are part of a Drama undertaken for the +amusement of the individuals who composed our intimate society, but +left unfinished. I have preserved a sketch of the story as far as it +had been shadowed in the poet’s mind. + +An Enchantress, living in one of the islands of the Indian +Archipelago, saves the life of a Pirate, a man of savage but noble +nature. She becomes enamoured of him; and he, inconstant to his mortal +love, for a while returns her passion; but at length, recalling the +memory of her whom he left, and who laments his loss, he escapes from +the Enchanted Island, and returns to his lady. His mode of life makes +him again go to sea, and the Enchantress seizes the opportunity to +bring him, by a spirit-brewed tempest, back to her Island. —[MRS. +SHELLEY’S NOTE, 1839.] + + +SCENE.—BEFORE THE CAVERN OF THE INDIAN ENCHANTRESS. + +THE ENCHANTRESS COMES FORTH. + +ENCHANTRESS: +He came like a dream in the dawn of life, +He fled like a shadow before its noon; +He is gone, and my peace is turned to strife, +And I wander and wane like the weary moon. +O, sweet Echo, wake, _5 +And for my sake +Make answer the while my heart shall break! + +But my heart has a music which Echo’s lips, +Though tender and true, yet can answer not, +And the shadow that moves in the soul’s eclipse _10 +Can return not the kiss by his now forgot; +Sweet lips! he who hath +On my desolate path +Cast the darkness of absence, worse than death! + +NOTE: +_8 my omitted 1824. + +[THE ENCHANTRESS MAKES HER SPELL: SHE IS ANSWERED BY A SPIRIT.] + +SPIRIT: +Within the silent centre of the earth _15 +My mansion is; where I have lived insphered +From the beginning, and around my sleep +Have woven all the wondrous imagery +Of this dim spot, which mortals call the world; +Infinite depths of unknown elements _20 +Massed into one impenetrable mask; +Sheets of immeasurable fire, and veins +Of gold and stone, and adamantine iron. +And as a veil in which I walk through Heaven +I have wrought mountains, seas, and waves, and clouds, _25 +And lastly light, whose interfusion dawns +In the dark space of interstellar air. + +NOTES: +_15-_27 Within...air. 1839; omitted 1824. + See these lines in “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, page 209: “Song of a Spirit”. +_16 have 1839; omitted 1824, page 209. +_25 seas, and waves 1824, page 209; seas, waves 1839. + +[A good Spirit, who watches over the Pirate’s fate, leads, in a +mysterious manner, the lady of his love to the Enchanted Isle. She is +accompanied by a Youth, who loves the lady, but whose passion she +returns only with a sisterly affection. The ensuing scene takes place +between them on their arrival at the Isle. [MRS. SHELLEY’S NOTE, +1839.]] + +ANOTHER SCENE. + +INDIAN YOUTH AND LADY. + +INDIAN: +And, if my grief should still be dearer to me +Than all the pleasures in the world beside, +Why would you lighten it?— + +NOTE: +_29 pleasures]pleasure 1824. + +LADY: +I offer only _30 +That which I seek, some human sympathy +In this mysterious island. + +INDIAN: +Oh! my friend, +My sister, my beloved!—What do I say? +My brain is dizzy, and I scarce know whether +I speak to thee or her. + +LADY: +Peace, perturbed heart! _35 +I am to thee only as thou to mine, +The passing wind which heals the brow at noon, +And may strike cold into the breast at night, +Yet cannot linger where it soothes the most, +Or long soothe could it linger. + +INDIAN: +But you said _40 +You also loved? + +NOTE: +_32-_41 Assigned to INDIAN, 1824. + +LADY: +Loved! Oh, I love. Methinks +This word of love is fit for all the world, +And that for gentle hearts another name +Would speak of gentler thoughts than the world owns. +I have loved. + +INDIAN: +And thou lovest not? if so, _45 +Young as thou art thou canst afford to weep. + +LADY: +Oh! would that I could claim exemption +From all the bitterness of that sweet name. +I loved, I love, and when I love no more +Let joys and grief perish, and leave despair _50 +To ring the knell of youth. He stood beside me, +The embodied vision of the brightest dream, +Which like a dawn heralds the day of life; +The shadow of his presence made my world +A Paradise. All familiar things he touched, _55 +All common words he spoke, became to me +Like forms and sounds of a diviner world. +He was as is the sun in his fierce youth, +As terrible and lovely as a tempest; +He came, and went, and left me what I am. _60 +Alas! Why must I think how oft we two +Have sate together near the river springs, +Under the green pavilion which the willow +Spreads on the floor of the unbroken fountain, +Strewn, by the nurslings that linger there, _65 +Over that islet paved with flowers and moss, +While the musk-rose leaves, like flakes of crimson snow, +Showered on us, and the dove mourned in the pine, +Sad prophetess of sorrows not her own? +The crane returned to her unfrozen haunt, _70 +And the false cuckoo bade the spray good morn; +And on a wintry bough the widowed bird, +Hid in the deepest night of ivy-leaves, +Renewed the vigils of a sleepless sorrow. +I, left like her, and leaving one like her, _75 +Alike abandoned and abandoning +(Oh! unlike her in this!) the gentlest youth, +Whose love had made my sorrows dear to him, +Even as my sorrow made his love to me! + +NOTE: +_71 spray Rossetti 1870, Woodberry; Spring Forman, Dowden. + +INDIAN: +One curse of Nature stamps in the same mould _80 +The features of the wretched; and they are +As like as violet to violet, +When memory, the ghost, their odours keeps +Mid the cold relics of abandoned joy.— +Proceed. + +LADY: +He was a simple innocent boy. _85 +I loved him well, but not as he desired; +Yet even thus he was content to be:— +A short content, for I was— + +INDIAN [ASIDE]: +God of Heaven! +From such an islet, such a river-spring—! +I dare not ask her if there stood upon it _90 +A pleasure-dome surmounted by a crescent, +With steps to the blue water. +[ALOUD.] +It may be +That Nature masks in life several copies +Of the same lot, so that the sufferers +May feel another’s sorrow as their own, _95 +And find in friendship what they lost in love. +That cannot be: yet it is strange that we, +From the same scene, by the same path to this +Realm of abandonment— But speak! your breath— +Your breath is like soft music, your words are _100 +The echoes of a voice which on my heart +Sleeps like a melody of early days. +But as you said— + +LADY: +He was so awful, yet +So beautiful in mystery and terror, +Calming me as the loveliness of heaven _105 +Soothes the unquiet sea:—and yet not so, +For he seemed stormy, and would often seem +A quenchless sun masked in portentous clouds; +For such his thoughts, and even his actions were; +But he was not of them, nor they of him, _110 +But as they hid his splendour from the earth. +Some said he was a man of blood and peril, +And steeped in bitter infamy to the lips. +More need was there I should be innocent, +More need that I should be most true and kind, _115 +And much more need that there should be found one +To share remorse and scorn and solitude, +And all the ills that wait on those who do +The tasks of ruin in the world of life. +He fled, and I have followed him. + +INDIAN: +Such a one _120 +Is he who was the winter of my peace. +But, fairest stranger, when didst thou depart +From the far hills where rise the springs of India? +How didst thou pass the intervening sea? + +LADY: +If I be sure I am not dreaming now, _125 +I should not doubt to say it was a dream. +Methought a star came down from heaven, +And rested mid the plants of India, +Which I had given a shelter from the frost +Within my chamber. There the meteor lay, _130 +Panting forth light among the leaves and flowers, +As if it lived, and was outworn with speed; +Or that it loved, and passion made the pulse +Of its bright life throb like an anxious heart, +Till it diffused itself; and all the chamber _135 +And walls seemed melted into emerald fire +That burned not; in the midst of which appeared +A spirit like a child, and laughed aloud +A thrilling peal of such sweet merriment +As made the blood tingle in my warm feet: _140 +Then bent over a vase, and murmuring +Low, unintelligible melodies, +Placed something in the mould like melon-seeds, +And slowly faded, and in place of it +A soft hand issued from the veil of fire, _145 +Holding a cup like a magnolia flower, +And poured upon the earth within the vase +The element with which it overflowed, +Brighter than morning light, and purer than +The water of the springs of Himalah. _150 + +NOTE: +_120-_126 Such...dream 1839; omitted 1824. + +INDIAN: +You waked not? + +LADY: +Not until my dream became +Like a child’s legend on the tideless sand. +Which the first foam erases half, and half +Leaves legible. At length I rose, and went, +Visiting my flowers from pot to pot, and thought _155 +To set new cuttings in the empty urns, +And when I came to that beside the lattice, +I saw two little dark-green leaves +Lifting the light mould at their birth, and then +I half-remembered my forgotten dream. _160 +And day by day, green as a gourd in June, +The plant grew fresh and thick, yet no one knew +What plant it was; its stem and tendrils seemed +Like emerald snakes, mottled and diamonded +With azure mail and streaks of woven silver; _165 +And all the sheaths that folded the dark buds +Rose like the crest of cobra-di-capel, +Until the golden eye of the bright flower, +Through the dark lashes of those veined lids, +...disencumbered of their silent sleep, _170 +Gazed like a star into the morning light. +Its leaves were delicate, you almost saw +The pulses +With which the purple velvet flower was fed +To overflow, and like a poet’s heart _175 +Changing bright fancy to sweet sentiment, +Changed half the light to fragrance. It soon fell, +And to a green and dewy embryo-fruit +Left all its treasured beauty. Day by day +I nursed the plant, and on the double flute _180 +Played to it on the sunny winter days +Soft melodies, as sweet as April rain +On silent leaves, and sang those words in which +Passion makes Echo taunt the sleeping strings; +And I would send tales of forgotten love _185 +Late into the lone night, and sing wild songs +Of maids deserted in the olden time, +And weep like a soft cloud in April’s bosom +Upon the sleeping eyelids of the plant, +So that perhaps it dreamed that Spring was come, _190 +And crept abroad into the moonlight air, +And loosened all its limbs, as, noon by noon, +The sun averted less his oblique beam. + +INDIAN: +And the plant died not in the frost? + +LADY: +It grew; +And went out of the lattice which I left _195 +Half open for it, trailing its quaint spires +Along the garden and across the lawn, +And down the slope of moss and through the tufts +Of wild-flower roots, and stumps of trees o’ergrown +With simple lichens, and old hoary stones, _200 +On to the margin of the glassy pool, +Even to a nook of unblown violets +And lilies-of-the-valley yet unborn, +Under a pine with ivy overgrown. +And there its fruit lay like a sleeping lizard _205 +Under the shadows; but when Spring indeed +Came to unswathe her infants, and the lilies +Peeped from their bright green masks to wonder at +This shape of autumn couched in their recess, +Then it dilated, and it grew until _210 +One half lay floating on the fountain wave, +Whose pulse, elapsed in unlike sympathies, +Kept time +Among the snowy water-lily buds. +Its shape was such as summer melody _215 +Of the south wind in spicy vales might give +To some light cloud bound from the golden dawn +To fairy isles of evening, and it seemed +In hue and form that it had been a mirror +Of all the hues and forms around it and _220 +Upon it pictured by the sunny beams +Which, from the bright vibrations of the pool, +Were thrown upon the rafters and the roof +Of boughs and leaves, and on the pillared stems +Of the dark sylvan temple, and reflections _225 +Of every infant flower and star of moss +And veined leaf in the azure odorous air. +And thus it lay in the Elysian calm +Of its own beauty, floating on the line +Which, like a film in purest space, divided _230 +The heaven beneath the water from the heaven +Above the clouds; and every day I went +Watching its growth and wondering; +And as the day grew hot, methought I saw +A glassy vapour dancing on the pool, _235 +And on it little quaint and filmy shapes. +With dizzy motion, wheel and rise and fall, +Like clouds of gnats with perfect lineaments. + +... + +O friend, sleep was a veil uplift from Heaven— +As if Heaven dawned upon the world of dream— _240 +When darkness rose on the extinguished day +Out of the eastern wilderness. + +INDIAN: +I too +Have found a moment’s paradise in sleep +Half compensate a hell of waking sorrow. + +*** + + +CHARLES THE FIRST. + +[“Charles the First” was designed in 1818, begun towards the close of +1819 [Medwin, “Life”, 2 page 62], resumed in January, and finally laid +aside by June, 1822. It was published in part in the “Posthumous +Poems”, 1824, and printed, in its present form (with the addition of +some 530 lines), by Mr. W.M. Rossetti, 1870. Further particulars are +given in the Editor’s Notes at the end of Volume 3.] + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE: + +KING CHARLES I. +QUEEN HENRIETTA. +LAUD, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. +WENTWORTH, EARL OF STRAFFORD. +LORD COTTINGTON. +LORD WESTON. +LORD COVENTRY. +WILLIAMS, BISHOP OF LINCOLN. +SECRETARY LYTTELTON. +JUXON. +ST. JOHN. +ARCHY, THE COURT FOOL. +HAMPDEN. +PYM. +CROMWELL. +CROMWELL’S DAUGHTER. +SIR HARRY VANE THE YOUNGER. +LEIGHTON. +BASTWICK. +PRYNNE. +GENTLEMEN OF THE INNS OF COURT, CITIZENS, PURSUIVANTS, +MARSHALSMEN, LAW STUDENTS, JUDGES, CLERK. + +SCENE 1: +THE MASQUE OF THE INNS OF COURT. + +A PURSUIVANT: +Place, for the Marshal of the Masque! + +FIRST CITIZEN: +What thinkest thou of this quaint masque which turns, +Like morning from the shadow of the night, +The night to day, and London to a place +Of peace and joy? + +SECOND CITIZEN: +And Hell to Heaven. _5 +Eight years are gone, +And they seem hours, since in this populous street +I trod on grass made green by summer’s rain, +For the red plague kept state within that palace +Where now that vanity reigns. In nine years more _10 +The roots will be refreshed with civil blood; +And thank the mercy of insulted Heaven +That sin and wrongs wound, as an orphan’s cry, +The patience of the great Avenger’s ear. + +NOTE: +_10 now that vanity reigns 1870; now reigns vanity 1824. + +A YOUTH: +Yet, father, ’tis a happy sight to see, _15 +Beautiful, innocent, and unforbidden +By God or man;—’tis like the bright procession +Of skiey visions in a solemn dream +From which men wake as from a Paradise, +And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life. _20 +If God be good, wherefore should this be evil? +And if this be not evil, dost thou not draw +Unseasonable poison from the flowers +Which bloom so rarely in this barren world? +Oh, kill these bitter thoughts which make the present _25 +Dark as the future!— + +... + +When Avarice and Tyranny, vigilant Fear, +And open-eyed Conspiracy lie sleeping +As on Hell’s threshold; and all gentle thoughts +Waken to worship Him who giveth joys _30 +With His own gift. + +SECOND CITIZEN: +How young art thou in this old age of time! +How green in this gray world? Canst thou discern +The signs of seasons, yet perceive no hint +Of change in that stage-scene in which thou art _35 +Not a spectator but an actor? or +Art thou a puppet moved by [enginery]? +The day that dawns in fire will die in storms, +Even though the noon be calm. My travel’s done,— +Before the whirlwind wakes I shall have found _40 +My inn of lasting rest; but thou must still +Be journeying on in this inclement air. +Wrap thy old cloak about thy back; +Nor leave the broad and plain and beaten road, +Although no flowers smile on the trodden dust, _45 +For the violet paths of pleasure. This Charles the First +Rose like the equinoctial sun,... +By vapours, through whose threatening ominous veil +Darting his altered influence he has gained +This height of noon—from which he must decline _50 +Amid the darkness of conflicting storms, +To dank extinction and to latest night... +There goes +The apostate Strafford; he whose titles +whispered aphorisms _55 +From Machiavel and Bacon: and, if Judas +Had been as brazen and as bold as he— + +NOTES: +_33-_37 Canst...enginery 1870; + Canst thou not think + Of change in that low scene, in which thou art + Not a spectator but an actor?... 1824. +_43-_57 Wrap...bold as he 1870; omitted 1824. + +FIRST CITIZEN: +That +Is the Archbishop. + +SECOND CITIZEN: +Rather say the Pope: +London will be soon his Rome: he walks +As if he trod upon the heads of men: _60 +He looks elate, drunken with blood and gold;— +Beside him moves the Babylonian woman +Invisibly, and with her as with his shadow, +Mitred adulterer! he is joined in sin, +Which turns Heaven’s milk of mercy to revenge. _65 + +THIRD CITIZEN [LIFTING UP HIS EYES]: +Good Lord! rain it down upon him!... +Amid her ladies walks the papist queen, +As if her nice feet scorned our English earth. +The Canaanitish Jezebel! I would be +A dog if I might tear her with my teeth! _70 +There’s old Sir Henry Vane, the Earl of Pembroke, +Lord Essex, and Lord Keeper Coventry, +And others who make base their English breed +By vile participation of their honours +With papists, atheists, tyrants, and apostates. _75 +When lawyers masque ’tis time for honest men +To strip the vizor from their purposes. +A seasonable time for masquers this! +When Englishmen and Protestants should sit +dust on their dishonoured heads _80 +To avert the wrath of Him whose scourge is felt +For the great sins which have drawn down from Heaven +and foreign overthrow. +The remnant of the martyred saints in Rochefort +Have been abandoned by their faithless allies _85 +To that idolatrous and adulterous torturer +Lewis of France,—the Palatinate is lost— +[ENTER LEIGHTON (WHO HAS BEEN BRANDED IN THE FACE) AND BASTWICK.] +Canst thou be—art thou? + +NOTE: +_73 make 1824; made 1839. + +LEIGHTON: +I WAS Leighton: what +I AM thou seest. And yet turn thine eyes, +And with thy memory look on thy friend’s mind, _90 +Which is unchanged, and where is written deep +The sentence of my judge. + +THIRD CITIZEN: +Are these the marks with which +Laud thinks to improve the image of his Maker +Stamped on the face of man? Curses upon him, +The impious tyrant! + +SECOND CITIZEN: +It is said besides _95 +That lewd and papist drunkards may profane +The Sabbath with their +And has permitted that most heathenish custom +Of dancing round a pole dressed up with wreaths +On May-day. _100 +A man who thus twice crucifies his God +May well ... his brother.—In my mind, friend, +The root of all this ill is prelacy. +I would cut up the root. + +THIRD CITIZEN: +And by what means? + +SECOND CITIZEN: +Smiting each Bishop under the fifth rib. _105 + +THIRD CITIZEN: +You seem to know the vulnerable place +Of these same crocodiles. + +SECOND CITIZEN: +I learnt it in +Egyptian bondage, sir. Your worm of Nile +Betrays not with its flattering tears like they; +For, when they cannot kill, they whine and weep. _110 +Nor is it half so greedy of men’s bodies +As they of soul and all; nor does it wallow +In slime as they in simony and lies +And close lusts of the flesh. + +NOTE: +_78-_114 A seasonable...of the flesh 1870; omitted 1824. +_108 bondage cj. Forman; bondages 1870. + +A MARSHALSMAN: +Give place, give place! +You torch-bearers, advance to the great gate, _115 +And then attend the Marshal of the Masque +Into the Royal presence. + +A LAW STUDENT: +What thinkest thou +Of this quaint show of ours, my aged friend? +Even now we see the redness of the torches +Inflame the night to the eastward, and the clarions _120 +[Gasp?] to us on the wind’s wave. It comes! +And their sounds, floating hither round the pageant, +Rouse up the astonished air. + +NOTE: +_119-_123 Even now...air 1870; omitted 1824. + +FIRST CITIZEN: +I will not think but that our country’s wounds +May yet be healed. The king is just and gracious, _125 +Though wicked counsels now pervert his will: +These once cast off— + +SECOND CITIZEN: +As adders cast their skins +And keep their venom, so kings often change; +Councils and counsellors hang on one another, +Hiding the loathsome _130 +Like the base patchwork of a leper’s rags. + +THE YOUTH: +Oh, still those dissonant thoughts!—List how the music +Grows on the enchanted air! And see, the torches +Restlessly flashing, and the crowd divided +Like waves before an admiral’s prow! + +NOTE: +_132 how the 1870; loud 1824. + +A MARSHALSMAN: +Give place _135 +To the Marshal of the Masque! + +A PURSUIVANT: +Room for the King! + +NOTE: +_136 A Pursuivant: Room for the King! 1870; omitted 1824. + +THE YOUTH: +How glorious! See those thronging chariots +Rolling, like painted clouds before the wind, +Behind their solemn steeds: how some are shaped +Like curved sea-shells dyed by the azure depths _140 +Of Indian seas; some like the new-born moon; +And some like cars in which the Romans climbed +(Canopied by Victory’s eagle-wings outspread) +The Capitolian—See how gloriously +The mettled horses in the torchlight stir _145 +Their gallant riders, while they check their pride, +Like shapes of some diviner element +Than English air, and beings nobler than +The envious and admiring multitude. + +NOTE: +_138-40 Rolling...depths 1870; +Rolling like painted clouds before the wind +Some are +Like curved shells, dyed by the azure depths 1824. + +SECOND CITIZEN: +Ay, there they are— _150 +Nobles, and sons of nobles, patentees, +Monopolists, and stewards of this poor farm, +On whose lean sheep sit the prophetic crows, +Here is the pomp that strips the houseless orphan, +Here is the pride that breaks the desolate heart. _155 +These are the lilies glorious as Solomon, +Who toil not, neither do they spin,—unless +It be the webs they catch poor rogues withal. +Here is the surfeit which to them who earn +The niggard wages of the earth, scarce leaves _160 +The tithe that will support them till they crawl +Back to her cold hard bosom. Here is health +Followed by grim disease, glory by shame, +Waste by lame famine, wealth by squalid want, +And England’s sin by England’s punishment. _165 +And, as the effect pursues the cause foregone, +Lo, giving substance to my words, behold +At once the sign and the thing signified— +A troop of cripples, beggars, and lean outcasts, +Horsed upon stumbling jades, carted with dung, _170 +Dragged for a day from cellars and low cabins +And rotten hiding-holes, to point the moral +Of this presentment, and bring up the rear +Of painted pomp with misery! + +NOTES: +_162 her 1870; its 1824. +_170 jades 1870; shapes 1824. +_173 presentment 1870; presentiment 1824. + +THE YOUTH: +’Tis but +The anti-masque, and serves as discords do _175 +In sweetest music. Who would love May flowers +If they succeeded not to Winter’s flaw; +Or day unchanged by night; or joy itself +Without the touch of sorrow? + +SECOND CITIZEN: +I and thou- + +A MARSHALSMAN: +Place, give place! _180 + +NOTE: +_179, _180 I...place! 1870; omitted 1824. + + +SCENE 2: +A CHAMBER IN WHITEHALL. +ENTER THE KING, QUEEN, LAUD, LORD STRAFFORD, +LORD COTTINGTON, AND OTHER LORDS; ARCHY; +ALSO ST. JOHN, WITH SOME GENTLEMEN OF THE INNS OF COURT. + +KING: +Thanks, gentlemen. I heartily accept +This token of your service: your gay masque +Was performed gallantly. And it shows well +When subjects twine such flowers of [observance?] +With the sharp thorns that deck the English crown. _5 +A gentle heart enjoys what it confers, +Even as it suffers that which it inflicts, +Though Justice guides the stroke. +Accept my hearty thanks. + +NOTE: +_3-9 And...thanks 1870; omitted 1824. + +QUEEN: +And gentlemen, +Call your poor Queen your debtor. Your quaint pageant _10 +Rose on me like the figures of past years, +Treading their still path back to infancy, +More beautiful and mild as they draw nearer +The quiet cradle. I could have almost wept +To think I was in Paris, where these shows _15 +Are well devised—such as I was ere yet +My young heart shared a portion of the burthen, +The careful weight, of this great monarchy. +There, gentlemen, between the sovereign’s pleasure +And that which it regards, no clamour lifts _20 +Its proud interposition. +In Paris ribald censurers dare not move +Their poisonous tongues against these sinless sports; +And HIS smile +Warms those who bask in it, as ours would do _25 +If ... Take my heart’s thanks: add them, gentlemen, +To those good words which, were he King of France, +My royal lord would turn to golden deeds. + +ST. JOHN: +Madam, the love of Englishmen can make +The lightest favour of their lawful king _30 +Outweigh a despot’s.—We humbly take our leaves, +Enriched by smiles which France can never buy. + +[EXEUNT ST. JOHN AND THE GENTLEMEN OF THE INNS OF COURT.] + +KING: +My Lord Archbishop, +Mark you what spirit sits in St. John’s eyes? +Methinks it is too saucy for this presence. _35 + +ARCHY: +Yes, pray your Grace look: for, like an unsophisticated [eye] sees +everything upside down, you who are wise will discern the shadow of an +idiot in lawn sleeves and a rochet setting springes to catch woodcocks +in haymaking time. Poor Archy, whose owl-eyes are tempered to the +error of his age, and because he is a fool, and by special ordinance +of God forbidden ever to see himself as he is, sees now in that deep +eye a blindfold devil sitting on the ball, and weighing words out +between king and subjects. One scale is full of promises, and the +other full of protestations: and then another devil creeps behind the +first out of the dark windings [of a] pregnant lawyer’s brain, and +takes the bandage from the other’s eyes, and throws a sword into the +left-hand scale, for all the world like my Lord Essex’s there. _48 + +STRAFFORD: +A rod in pickle for the Fool’s back! + +ARCHY: +Ay, and some are now smiling whose tears will make the brine; for the +Fool sees— + +STRAFFORD: +Insolent! You shall have your coat turned and be whipped out of the +palace for this. _53 + +ARCHY: +When all the fools are whipped, and all the Protestant writers, while +the knaves are whipping the fools ever since a thief was set to catch +a thief. If all turncoats were whipped out of palaces, poor Archy +would be disgraced in good company. Let the knaves whip the fools, and +all the fools laugh at it. [Let the] wise and godly slit each other’s +noses and ears (having no need of any sense of discernment in their +craft); and the knaves, to marshal them, join in a procession to +Bedlam, to entreat the madmen to omit their sublime Platonic +contemplations, and manage the state of England. Let all the honest +men who lie [pinched?] up at the prisons or the pillories, in custody +of the pursuivants of the High-Commission Court, marshal them. _65 + +NOTE: +_64 pinched marked as doubtful by Rossetti. + 1870; Forman, Dowden; penned Woodberry. + +[ENTER SECRETARY LYTTELTON, WITH PAPERS.] + +KING [LOOKING OVER THE PAPERS]: +These stiff Scots +His Grace of Canterbury must take order +To force under the Church’s yoke.—You, Wentworth, +Shall be myself in Ireland, and shall add +Your wisdom, gentleness, and energy, _70 +To what in me were wanting.—My Lord Weston, +Look that those merchants draw not without loss +Their bullion from the Tower; and, on the payment +Of shipmoney, take fullest compensation +For violation of our royal forests, _75 +Whose limits, from neglect, have been o’ergrown +With cottages and cornfields. The uttermost +Farthing exact from those who claim exemption +From knighthood: that which once was a reward +Shall thus be made a punishment, that subjects _80 +May know how majesty can wear at will +The rugged mood.—My Lord of Coventry, +Lay my command upon the Courts below +That bail be not accepted for the prisoners +Under the warrant of the Star Chamber. _85 +The people shall not find the stubbornness +Of Parliament a cheap or easy method +Of dealing with their rightful sovereign: +And doubt not this, my Lord of Coventry, +We will find time and place for fit rebuke.— _90 +My Lord of Canterbury. + +NOTE: +_22-90 In Paris...rebuke 1870; omitted 1824. + +ARCHY: +The fool is here. + +LAUD: +I crave permission of your Majesty +To order that this insolent fellow be +Chastised: he mocks the sacred character, +Scoffs at the state, and— + +NOTE: +_95 state 1870; stake 1824. + +KING: +What, my Archy? _95 +He mocks and mimics all he sees and hears, +Yet with a quaint and graceful licence—Prithee +For this once do not as Prynne would, were he +Primate of England. With your Grace’s leave, +He lives in his own world; and, like a parrot _100 +Hung in his gilded prison from the window +Of a queen’s bower over the public way, +Blasphemes with a bird’s mind:—his words, like arrows +Which know no aim beyond the archer’s wit, +Strike sometimes what eludes philosophy.— _105 +[TO ARCHY.] +Go, sirrah, and repent of your offence +Ten minutes in the rain; be it your penance +To bring news how the world goes there. +[EXIT ARCHY.] +Poor Archy! +He weaves about himself a world of mirth +Out of the wreck of ours. _110 + +NOTES: +_99 With your Grace’s leave 1870; omitted 1824. +_106-_110 Go...ours spoken by THE QUEEN, 1824. + +LAUD: +I take with patience, as my Master did, +All scoffs permitted from above. + +KING: +My lord, +Pray overlook these papers. Archy’s words +Had wings, but these have talons. + +QUEEN: +And the lion +That wears them must be tamed. My dearest lord, _115 +I see the new-born courage in your eye +Armed to strike dead the Spirit of the Time, +Which spurs to rage the many-headed beast. +Do thou persist: for, faint but in resolve, +And it were better thou hadst still remained _120 +The slave of thine own slaves, who tear like curs +The fugitive, and flee from the pursuer; +And Opportunity, that empty wolf, +Flies at his throat who falls. Subdue thy actions +Even to the disposition of thy purpose, _125 +And be that tempered as the Ebro’s steel; +And banish weak-eyed Mercy to the weak, +Whence she will greet thee with a gift of peace +And not betray thee with a traitor’s kiss, +As when she keeps the company of rebels, _130 +Who think that she is Fear. This do, lest we +Should fall as from a glorious pinnacle +In a bright dream, and wake as from a dream +Out of our worshipped state. + +NOTES: +_116 your 1824; thine 1870. +_118 Which...beast 1870; omitted 1824. + +KING: +Beloved friend, +God is my witness that this weight of power, _135 +Which He sets me my earthly task to wield +Under His law, is my delight and pride +Only because thou lovest that and me. +For a king bears the office of a God +To all the under world; and to his God _140 +Alone he must deliver up his trust, +Unshorn of its permitted attributes. +[It seems] now as the baser elements +Had mutinied against the golden sun +That kindles them to harmony, and quells _145 +Their self-destroying rapine. The wild million +Strike at the eye that guides them; like as humours +Of the distempered body that conspire +Against the spirit of life throned in the heart,— +And thus become the prey of one another, _150 +And last of death— + +STRAFFORD: +That which would be ambition in a subject +Is duty in a sovereign; for on him, +As on a keystone, hangs the arch of life, +Whose safety is its strength. Degree and form, _155 +And all that makes the age of reasoning man +More memorable than a beast’s, depend on this— +That Right should fence itself inviolably +With Power; in which respect the state of England +From usurpation by the insolent commons _160 +Cries for reform. +Get treason, and spare treasure. Fee with coin +The loudest murmurers; feed with jealousies +Opposing factions,—be thyself of none; +And borrow gold of many, for those who lend _165 +Will serve thee till thou payest them; and thus +Keep the fierce spirit of the hour at bay, +Till time, and its coming generations +Of nights and days unborn, bring some one chance, + +... + +Or war or pestilence or Nature’s self,— _170 +By some distemperature or terrible sign, +Be as an arbiter betwixt themselves. +Nor let your Majesty +Doubt here the peril of the unseen event. +How did your brother Kings, coheritors _175 +In your high interest in the subject earth, +Rise past such troubles to that height of power +Where now they sit, and awfully serene +Smile on the trembling world? Such popular storms +Philip the Second of Spain, this Lewis of France, _180 +And late the German head of many bodies, +And every petty lord of Italy, +Quelled or by arts or arms. Is England poorer +Or feebler? or art thou who wield’st her power +Tamer than they? or shall this island be— _185 +[Girdled] by its inviolable waters— +To the world present and the world to come +Sole pattern of extinguished monarchy? +Not if thou dost as I would have thee do. + +KING: +Your words shall be my deeds: _190 +You speak the image of my thought. My friend +(If Kings can have a friend, I call thee so), +Beyond the large commission which [belongs] +Under the great seal of the realm, take this: +And, for some obvious reasons, let there be _195 +No seal on it, except my kingly word +And honour as I am a gentleman. +Be—as thou art within my heart and mind— +Another self, here and in Ireland: +Do what thou judgest well, take amplest licence, _200 +And stick not even at questionable means. +Hear me, Wentworth. My word is as a wall +Between thee and this world thine enemy— +That hates thee, for thou lovest me. + +STRAFFORD: +I own +No friend but thee, no enemies but thine: _205 +Thy lightest thought is my eternal law. +How weak, how short, is life to pay— + +KING: +Peace, peace. +Thou ow’st me nothing yet. +[TO LAUD.] +My lord, what say +Those papers? + +LAUD: +Your Majesty has ever interposed, _210 +In lenity towards your native soil, +Between the heavy vengeance of the Church +And Scotland. Mark the consequence of warming +This brood of northern vipers in your bosom. +The rabble, instructed no doubt _215 +By London, Lindsay, Hume, and false Argyll +(For the waves never menace heaven until +Scourged by the wind’s invisible tyranny), +Have in the very temple of the Lord +Done outrage to His chosen ministers. _220 +They scorn the liturgy of the Holy Church, +Refuse to obey her canons, and deny +The apostolic power with which the Spirit +Has filled its elect vessels, even from him +Who held the keys with power to loose and bind, _225 +To him who now pleads in this royal presence.— +Let ample powers and new instructions be +Sent to the High Commissioners in Scotland. +To death, imprisonment, and confiscation, +Add torture, add the ruin of the kindred _230 +Of the offender, add the brand of infamy, +Add mutilation: and if this suffice not, +Unleash the sword and fire, that in their thirst +They may lick up that scum of schismatics. +I laugh at those weak rebels who, desiring _235 +What we possess, still prate of Christian peace, +As if those dreadful arbitrating messengers +Which play the part of God ’twixt right and wrong, +Should be let loose against the innocent sleep +Of templed cities and the smiling fields, _240 +For some poor argument of policy +Which touches our own profit or our pride +(Where it indeed were Christian charity +To turn the cheek even to the smiter’s hand): +And, when our great Redeemer, when our God, _245 +When He who gave, accepted, and retained +Himself in propitiation of our sins, +Is scorned in His immediate ministry, +With hazard of the inestimable loss +Of all the truth and discipline which is _250 +Salvation to the extremest generation +Of men innumerable, they talk of peace! +Such peace as Canaan found, let Scotland now: +For, by that Christ who came to bring a sword, +Not peace, upon the earth, and gave command _255 +To His disciples at the Passover +That each should sell his robe and buy a sword,- +Once strip that minister of naked wrath, +And it shall never sleep in peace again +Till Scotland bend or break. + +NOTES: +_134-_232 Beloved...mutilation 1870; omitted 1824. +_237 arbitrating messengers 1870; messengers of wrath 1824. +_239 the 1870; omitted 1524. +_243-_244 Parentheses inserted 1870. +_246, _247 When He...sins 1870; omitted 1824. +_248 ministry 1870; ministers 1824. +_249-52 With...innumerable 1870; omitted 1824. + +KING: +My Lord Archbishop, _260 +Do what thou wilt and what thou canst in this. +Thy earthly even as thy heavenly King +Gives thee large power in his unquiet realm. +But we want money, and my mind misgives me +That for so great an enterprise, as yet, _265 +We are unfurnished. + +STRAFFORD: +Yet it may not long +Rest on our wills. + +COTTINGTON: +The expenses +Of gathering shipmoney, and of distraining +For every petty rate (for we encounter +A desperate opposition inch by inch _270 +In every warehouse and on every farm), +Have swallowed up the gross sum of the imposts; +So that, though felt as a most grievous scourge +Upon the land, they stand us in small stead +As touches the receipt. + +STRAFFORD: +’Tis a conclusion _275 +Most arithmetical: and thence you infer +Perhaps the assembling of a parliament. +Now, if a man should call his dearest enemies +To sit in licensed judgement on his life, +His Majesty might wisely take that course. _280 +[ASIDE TO COTTINGTON.] +It is enough to expect from these lean imposts +That they perform the office of a scourge, +Without more profit. +[ALOUD.] +Fines and confiscations, +And a forced loan from the refractory city, +Will fill our coffers: and the golden love _285 +Of loyal gentlemen and noble friends +For the worshipped father of our common country, +With contributions from the catholics, +Will make Rebellion pale in our excess. +Be these the expedients until time and wisdom _290 +Shall frame a settled state of government. + +LAUD: +And weak expedients they! Have we not drained +All, till the ... which seemed +A mine exhaustless? + +STRAFFORD: +And the love which IS, +If loyal hearts could turn their blood to gold. _295 + +LAUD: +Both now grow barren: and I speak it not +As loving parliaments, which, as they have been +In the right hand of bold bad mighty kings +The scourges of the bleeding Church, I hate. +Methinks they scarcely can deserve our fear. _300 + +STRAFFORD: +Oh! my dear liege, take back the wealth thou gavest: +With that, take all I held, but as in trust +For thee, of mine inheritance: leave me but +This unprovided body for thy service, +And a mind dedicated to no care _305 +Except thy safety:—but assemble not +A parliament. Hundreds will bring, like me, +Their fortunes, as they would their blood, before— + +KING: +No! thou who judgest them art but one. Alas! +We should be too much out of love with Heaven, _310 +Did this vile world show many such as thee, +Thou perfect, just, and honourable man! +Never shall it be said that Charles of England +Stripped those he loved for fear of those he scorns; +Nor will he so much misbecome his throne _315 +As to impoverish those who most adorn +And best defend it. That you urge, dear Strafford, +Inclines me rather— + +QUEEN: +To a parliament? +Is this thy firmness? and thou wilt preside +Over a knot of ... censurers, _320 +To the unswearing of thy best resolves, +And choose the worst, when the worst comes too soon? +Plight not the worst before the worst must come. +Oh, wilt thou smile whilst our ribald foes, +Dressed in their own usurped authority, _325 +Sharpen their tongues on Henrietta’s fame? +It is enough! Thou lovest me no more! +[WEEPS.] + +KING: +Oh, Henrietta! + +[THEY TALK APART.] + +COTTINGTON [TO LAUD]: +Money we have none: +And all the expedients of my Lord of Strafford +Will scarcely meet the arrears. + +LAUD: +Without delay _330 +An army must be sent into the north; +Followed by a Commission of the Church, +With amplest power to quench in fire and blood, +And tears and terror, and the pity of hell, +The intenser wrath of Heresy. God will give _335 +Victory; and victory over Scotland give +The lion England tamed into our hands. +That will lend power, and power bring gold. + +COTTINGTON: +Meanwhile +We must begin first where your Grace leaves off. +Gold must give power, or— + +LAUD: +I am not averse _340 +From the assembling of a parliament. +Strong actions and smooth words might teach them soon +The lesson to obey. And are they not +A bubble fashioned by the monarch’s mouth, +The birth of one light breath? If they serve no purpose, _345 +A word dissolves them. + +STRAFFORD: +The engine of parliaments +Might be deferred until I can bring over +The Irish regiments: they will serve to assure +The issue of the war against the Scots. +And, this game won—which if lost, all is lost— _350 +Gather these chosen leaders of the rebels, +And call them, if you will, a parliament. + +KING: +Oh, be our feet still tardy to shed blood. +Guilty though it may be! I would still spare +The stubborn country of my birth, and ward _355 +From countenances which I loved in youth +The wrathful Church’s lacerating hand. +[TO LAUD.] +Have you o’erlooked the other articles? + +[ENTER ARCHY.] + +LAUD: +Hazlerig, Hampden, Pym, young Harry Vane, +Cromwell, and other rebels of less note, _360 +Intend to sail with the next favouring wind +For the Plantations. + +ARCHY: +Where they think to found +A commonwealth like Gonzalo’s in the play, +Gynaecocoenic and pantisocratic. + +NOTE: +_363 Gonzalo’s 1870; Gonzaga Boscombe manuscript. + +KING: +What’s that, sirrah? + +ARCHY: +New devil’s politics. _365 +Hell is the pattern of all commonwealths: +Lucifer was the first republican. +Will you hear Merlin’s prophecy, how three [posts?] +‘In one brainless skull, when the whitethorn is full, +Shall sail round the world, and come back again: _370 +Shall sail round the world in a brainless skull, +And come back again when the moon is at full:’— +When, in spite of the Church, +They will hear homilies of whatever length +Or form they please. _375 + +[COTTINGTON?]: +So please your Majesty to sign this order +For their detention. + +ARCHY: +If your Majesty were tormented night and day by fever, gout, +rheumatism, and stone, and asthma, etc., and you found these diseases +had secretly entered into a conspiracy to abandon you, should you +think it necessary to lay an embargo on the port by which they meant +to dispeople your unquiet kingdom of man? _383 + +KING: +If fear were made for kings, the Fool mocks wisely; +But in this case—[WRITING]. Here, my lord, take the warrant, +And see it duly executed forthwith.— +That imp of malice and mockery shall be punished. _387 + +[EXEUNT ALL BUT KING, QUEEN, AND ARCHY.] + +ARCHY: +Ay, I am the physician of whom Plato prophesied, who was to be accused +by the confectioner before a jury of children, who found him guilty +without waiting for the summing-up, and hanged him without benefit of +clergy. Thus Baby Charles, and the Twelfth-night Queen of Hearts, and +the overgrown schoolboy Cottington, and that little urchin Laud—who +would reduce a verdict of ‘guilty, death,’ by famine, if it were +impregnable by composition—all impannelled against poor Archy for +presenting them bitter physic the last day of the holidays. _397 + +QUEEN: +Is the rain over, sirrah? + +KING: +When it rains +And the sun shines, ‘twill rain again to-morrow: +And therefore never smile till you’ve done crying. _400 + +ARCHY: +But ’tis all over now: like the April anger of woman, the gentle sky +has wept itself serene. + +QUEEN: +What news abroad? how looks the world this morning? + +ARCHY: +Gloriously as a grave covered with virgin flowers. There’s a rainbow +in the sky. Let your Majesty look at it, for + +‘A rainbow in the morning _407 +Is the shepherd’s warning;’ + +and the flocks of which you are the pastor are scattered among the +mountain-tops, where every drop of water is a flake of snow, and the +breath of May pierces like a January blast. _411 + +KING: +The sheep have mistaken the wolf for their shepherd, my poor boy; and +the shepherd, the wolves for their watchdogs. + +QUEEN: +But the rainbow was a good sign, Archy: it says that the waters of the +deluge are gone, and can return no more. + +ARCHY: +Ay, the salt-water one: but that of tears and blood must yet come +down, and that of fire follow, if there be any truth in lies.—The +rainbow hung over the city with all its shops,...and churches, from +north to south, like a bridge of congregated lightning pieced by the +masonry of heaven—like a balance in which the angel that distributes +the coming hour was weighing that heavy one whose poise is now felt in +the lightest hearts, before it bows the proudest heads under the +meanest feet. _424 + +QUEEN: +Who taught you this trash, sirrah? + +ARCHY: +A torn leaf out of an old book trampled in the dirt.—But for the +rainbow. It moved as the sun moved, and...until the top of the +Tower...of a cloud through its left-hand tip, and Lambeth Palace look +as dark as a rock before the other. Methought I saw a crown figured +upon one tip, and a mitre on the other. So, as I had heard treasures +were found where the rainbow quenches its points upon the earth, I set +off, and at the Tower— But I shall not tell your Majesty what I found +close to the closet-window on which the rainbow had glimmered. + +KING: +Speak: I will make my Fool my conscience. _435 + +ARCHY: +Then conscience is a fool.—I saw there a cat caught in a rat-trap. I +heard the rats squeak behind the wainscots: it seemed to me that the +very mice were consulting on the manner of her death. + +QUEEN: +Archy is shrewd and bitter. + +ARCHY: +Like the season, _440 +So blow the winds.—But at the other end of the rainbow, where the +gray rain was tempered along the grass and leaves by a tender +interfusion of violet and gold in the meadows beyond Lambeth, what +think you that I found instead of a mitre? + +KING: +Vane’s wits perhaps. _445 + +ARCHY: +Something as vain. I saw a gross vapour hovering in a stinking ditch +over the carcass of a dead ass, some rotten rags, and broken +dishes—the wrecks of what once administered to the stuffing-out and +the ornament of a worm of worms. His Grace of Canterbury expects to +enter the New Jerusalem some Palm Sunday in triumph on the ghost of +this ass. _451 + +QUEEN: +Enough, enough! Go desire Lady Jane +She place my lute, together with the music +Mari received last week from Italy, +In my boudoir, and— + +[EXIT ARCHY.] + +KING: +I’ll go in. + +NOTE: +_254-_455 For by...I’ll go in 1870; omitted 1824. + +QUEEN: +MY beloved lord, _455 +Have you not noted that the Fool of late +Has lost his careless mirth, and that his words +Sound like the echoes of our saddest fears? +What can it mean? I should be loth to think +Some factious slave had tutored him. + +KING: +Oh, no! _460 +He is but Occasion’s pupil. Partly ’tis +That our minds piece the vacant intervals +Of his wild words with their own fashioning,— +As in the imagery of summer clouds, +Or coals of the winter fire, idlers find _465 +The perfect shadows of their teeming thoughts: +And partly, that the terrors of the time +Are sown by wandering Rumour in all spirits; +And in the lightest and the least, may best +Be seen the current of the coming wind. _470 + +NOTES: +_460, _461 Oh...pupil 1870; omitted 1824. +_461 Partly ’tis 1870; It partly is 1824. +_465 of 1870; in 1824. + +QUEEN: +Your brain is overwrought with these deep thoughts. +Come, I will sing to you; let us go try +These airs from Italy; and, as we pass +The gallery, we’ll decide where that Correggio +Shall hang—the Virgin Mother _475 +With her child, born the King of heaven and earth, +Whose reign is men’s salvation. And you shall see +A cradled miniature of yourself asleep, +Stamped on the heart by never-erring love; +Liker than any Vandyke ever made, _480 +A pattern to the unborn age of thee, +Over whose sweet beauty I have wept for joy +A thousand times, and now should weep for sorrow, +Did I not think that after we were dead +Our fortunes would spring high in him, and that _485 +The cares we waste upon our heavy crown +Would make it light and glorious as a wreath +Of Heaven’s beams for his dear innocent brow. + +NOTE: +_473-_477 and, as...salvation 1870; omitted 1824. + +KING: +Dear Henrietta! + + +SCENE 3: +THE STAR CHAMBER. +LAUD, JUXON, STRAFFORD, AND OTHERS, AS JUDGES. +PRYNNE AS A PRISONER, AND THEN BASTWICK. + +LAUD: +Bring forth the prisoner Bastwick: let the clerk +Recite his sentence. + +CLERK: +‘That he pay five thousand +Pounds to the king, lose both his ears, be branded +With red-hot iron on the cheek and forehead, +And be imprisoned within Lancaster Castle _5 +During the pleasure of the Court.’ + +LAUD: +Prisoner, +If you have aught to say wherefore this sentence +Should not be put into effect, now speak. + +JUXON: +If you have aught to plead in mitigation, +Speak. + +BASTWICK: +Thus, my lords. If, like the prelates, I _10 +Were an invader of the royal power +A public scorner of the word of God, +Profane, idolatrous, popish, superstitious, +Impious in heart and in tyrannic act, +Void of wit, honesty, and temperance; _15 +If Satan were my lord, as theirs,—our God +Pattern of all I should avoid to do; +Were I an enemy of my God and King +And of good men, as ye are;—I should merit +Your fearful state and gilt prosperity, _20 +Which, when ye wake from the last sleep, shall turn +To cowls and robes of everlasting fire. +But, as I am, I bid ye grudge me not +The only earthly favour ye can yield, +Or I think worth acceptance at your hands,— _25 +Scorn, mutilation, and imprisonment. +even as my Master did, +Until Heaven’s kingdom shall descend on earth, +Or earth be like a shadow in the light +Of Heaven absorbed—some few tumultuous years _30 +Will pass, and leave no wreck of what opposes +His will whose will is power. + +NOTE: +_27-_32 even...power printed as a fragment, Garnett, 1862; inserted + here conjecturally, Rossetti, 1870. + +LAUD: +Officer, take the prisoner from the bar, +And be his tongue slit for his insolence. + +BASTWICK: +While this hand holds a pen— + +LAUD: +Be his hands— + +JUXON: +Stop! _35 +Forbear, my lord! The tongue, which now can speak +No terror, would interpret, being dumb, +Heaven’s thunder to our harm;... +And hands, which now write only their own shame, +With bleeding stumps might sign our blood away. _40 + +LAUD: +Much more such ‘mercy’ among men would be, +Did all the ministers of Heaven’s revenge +Flinch thus from earthly retribution. I +Could suffer what I would inflict. +[EXIT BASTWICK GUARDED.] +Bring up +The Lord Bishop of Lincoln.— +[TO STRAFFORD.] +Know you not _45 +That, in distraining for ten thousand pounds +Upon his books and furniture at Lincoln, +Were found these scandalous and seditious letters +Sent from one Osbaldistone, who is fled? +I speak it not as touching this poor person; _50 +But of the office which should make it holy, +Were it as vile as it was ever spotless. +Mark too, my lord, that this expression strikes +His Majesty, if I misinterpret not. + +[ENTER BISHOP WILLIAMS GUARDED.] + +STRAFFORD: +’Twere politic and just that Williams taste _55 +The bitter fruit of his connection with +The schismatics. But you, my Lord Archbishop, +Who owed your first promotion to his favour, +Who grew beneath his smile— + +LAUD: +Would therefore beg +The office of his judge from this High Court,— _60 +That it shall seem, even as it is, that I, +In my assumption of this sacred robe, +Have put aside all worldly preference, +All sense of all distinction of all persons, +All thoughts but of the service of the Church.— _65 +Bishop of Lincoln! + +WILLIAMS: +Peace, proud hierarch! +I know my sentence, and I own it just. +Thou wilt repay me less than I deserve, +In stretching to the utmost + +... + +NOTE: +Scene 3. _1-_69 Bring...utmost 1870; omitted 1824. + + +SCENE 4: +HAMPDEN, PYM, CROMWELL, HIS DAUGHTER, AND YOUNG SIR HARRY VANE. + +HAMPDEN: +England, farewell! thou, who hast been my cradle, +Shalt never be my dungeon or my grave! +I held what I inherited in thee +As pawn for that inheritance of freedom +Which thou hast sold for thy despoiler’s smile: _5 +How can I call thee England, or my country?— +Does the wind hold? + +VANE: +The vanes sit steady +Upon the Abbey towers. The silver lightnings +Of the evening star, spite of the city’s smoke, +Tell that the north wind reigns in the upper air. _10 +Mark too that flock of fleecy-winged clouds +Sailing athwart St. Margaret’s. + +NOTE: +_11 flock 1824; fleet 1870. + +HAMPDEN: +Hail, fleet herald +Of tempest! that rude pilot who shall guide +Hearts free as his, to realms as pure as thee, +Beyond the shot of tyranny, _15 +Beyond the webs of that swoln spider... +Beyond the curses, calumnies, and [lies?] +Of atheist priests! ... And thou +Fair star, whose beam lies on the wide Atlantic, +Athwart its zones of tempest and of calm, _20 +Bright as the path to a beloved home +Oh, light us to the isles of the evening land! +Like floating Edens cradled in the glimmer +Of sunset, through the distant mist of years +Touched by departing hope, they gleam! lone regions, _25 +Where Power’s poor dupes and victims yet have never +Propitiated the savage fear of kings +With purest blood of noblest hearts; whose dew +Is yet unstained with tears of those who wake +To weep each day the wrongs on which it dawns; _30 +Whose sacred silent air owns yet no echo +Of formal blasphemies; nor impious rites +Wrest man’s free worship, from the God who loves, +To the poor worm who envies us His love! +Receive, thou young ... of Paradise. _35 +These exiles from the old and sinful world! + +... + +This glorious clime, this firmament, whose lights +Dart mitigated influence through their veil +Of pale blue atmosphere; whose tears keep green +The pavement of this moist all-feeding earth; _40 +This vaporous horizon, whose dim round +Is bastioned by the circumfluous sea, +Repelling invasion from the sacred towers, +Presses upon me like a dungeon’s grate, +A low dark roof, a damp and narrow wall. _45 +The boundless universe +Becomes a cell too narrow for the soul +That owns no master; while the loathliest ward +Of this wide prison, England, is a nest +Of cradling peace built on the mountain tops,— _50 +To which the eagle spirits of the free, +Which range through heaven and earth, and scorn the storm +Of time, and gaze upon the light of truth, +Return to brood on thoughts that cannot die +And cannot be repelled. _55 +Like eaglets floating in the heaven of time, +They soar above their quarry, and shall stoop +Through palaces and temples thunderproof. + +NOTES: +_13 rude 1870; wild 1824. +_16-_18 Beyond...priests 1870; omitted 1824. +_25 Touched 1870; Tinged 1824. +_34 To the poor 1870; Towards the 1824. +_38 their 1870; the 1824. +_46 boundless 1870; mighty 1824. +_48 owns no 1824; owns a 1870. ward 1870; spot 1824. +_50 cradling 1870; cradled 1824. +_54, _55 Return...repelled 1870; + Return to brood over the [ ] thoughts + That cannot die, and may not be repelled 1824. +_56-_58 Like...thunderproof 1870; omitted 1824. + + +SCENE 5: + +ARCHY: +I’ll go live under the ivy that overgrows the terrace, and count the +tears shed on its old [roots?] as the [wind?] plays the song of + +‘A widow bird sate mourning +Upon a wintry bough.’ _5 +[SINGS] +Heigho! the lark and the owl! +One flies the morning, and one lulls the night:— +Only the nightingale, poor fond soul, +Sings like the fool through darkness and light. + +‘A widow bird sate mourning for her love _10 +Upon a wintry bough; +The frozen wind crept on above, +The freezing stream below. + +There was no leaf upon the forest bare. +No flower upon the ground, _15 +And little motion in the air +Except the mill-wheel’s sound.’ + +NOTE: +Scene 5. _1-_9 I’ll...light 1870; omitted 1824. + +*** + + +THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE. + +[Composed at Lerici on the Gulf of Spezzia in the spring and early +summer of 1822—the poem on which Shelley was engaged at the time of +his death. Published by Mrs. Shelley in the “Posthumous Poems” of +1824, pages 73-95. Several emendations, the result of Dr. Garnett’s +examination of the Boscombe manuscript, were given to the world by +Miss Mathilde Blind, “Westminster Review”, July, 1870. The poem was, +of course, included in the “Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions. See +Editor’s Notes.] + +Swift as a spirit hastening to his task +Of glory and of good, the Sun sprang forth +Rejoicing in his splendour, and the mask + +Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth— +The smokeless altars of the mountain snows _5 +Flamed above crimson clouds, and at the birth + +Of light, the Ocean’s orison arose, +To which the birds tempered their matin lay. +All flowers in field or forest which unclose + +Their trembling eyelids to the kiss of day, _10 +Swinging their censers in the element, +With orient incense lit by the new ray + +Burned slow and inconsumably, and sent +Their odorous sighs up to the smiling air; +And, in succession due, did continent, _15 + +Isle, ocean, and all things that in them wear +The form and character of mortal mould, +Rise as the Sun their father rose, to bear + +Their portion of the toil, which he of old +Took as his own, and then imposed on them: _20 +But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold + +Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem +The cone of night, now they were laid asleep +Stretched my faint limbs beneath the hoary stem + +Which an old chestnut flung athwart the steep _25 +Of a green Apennine: before me fled +The night; behind me rose the day; the deep + +Was at my feet, and Heaven above my head,— +When a strange trance over my fancy grew +Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread _30 + +Was so transparent, that the scene came through +As clear as when a veil of light is drawn +O’er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew + +That I had felt the freshness of that dawn +Bathe in the same cold dew my brow and hair, _35 +And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn + +Under the self-same bough, and heard as there +The birds, the fountains and the ocean hold +Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air, +And then a vision on my train was rolled. _40 + +... + +As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay, +This was the tenour of my waking dream:— +Methought I sate beside a public way + +Thick strewn with summer dust, and a great stream +Of people there was hurrying to and fro, _45 +Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam, + +All hastening onward, yet none seemed to know +Whither he went, or whence he came, or why +He made one of the multitude, and so + +Was borne amid the crowd, as through the sky _50 +One of the million leaves of summer’s bier; +Old age and youth, manhood and infancy, + +Mixed in one mighty torrent did appear, +Some flying from the thing they feared, and some +Seeking the object of another’s fear; _55 + +And others, as with steps towards the tomb, +Pored on the trodden worms that crawled beneath, +And others mournfully within the gloom + +Of their own shadow walked, and called it death; +And some fled from it as it were a ghost, _60 +Half fainting in the affliction of vain breath: + +But more, with motions which each other crossed, +Pursued or shunned the shadows the clouds threw, +Or birds within the noonday aether lost, + +Upon that path where flowers never grew,— +And, weary with vain toil and faint for thirst, +Heard not the fountains, whose melodious dew + +Out of their mossy cells forever burst; +Nor felt the breeze which from the forest told +Of grassy paths and wood-lawns interspersed _70 + +With overarching elms and caverns cold, +And violet banks where sweet dreams brood, but they +Pursued their serious folly as of old. + +And as I gazed, methought that in the way +The throng grew wilder, as the woods of June _75 +When the south wind shakes the extinguished day, + +And a cold glare, intenser than the noon, +But icy cold, obscured with blinding light +The sun, as he the stars. Like the young moon— + +When on the sunlit limits of the night _80 +Her white shell trembles amid crimson air, +And whilst the sleeping tempest gathers might— + +Doth, as the herald of its coming, bear +The ghost of its dead mother, whose dim form +Bends in dark aether from her infant’s chair,— _85 + +So came a chariot on the silent storm +Of its own rushing splendour, and a Shape +So sate within, as one whom years deform, + +Beneath a dusky hood and double cape, +Crouching within the shadow of a tomb; _90 +And o’er what seemed the head a cloud-like crape + +Was bent, a dun and faint aethereal gloom +Tempering the light. Upon the chariot-beam +A Janus-visaged Shadow did assume + +The guidance of that wonder-winged team; _95 +The shapes which drew it in thick lightenings +Were lost:—I heard alone on the air’s soft stream + +The music of their ever-moving wings. +All the four faces of that Charioteer +Had their eyes banded; little profit brings _100 + +Speed in the van and blindness in the rear, +Nor then avail the beams that quench the sun,— +Or that with banded eyes could pierce the sphere + +Of all that is, has been or will be done; +So ill was the car guided—but it passed _105 +With solemn speed majestically on. + +The crowd gave way, and I arose aghast, +Or seemed to rise, so mighty was the trance, +And saw, like clouds upon the thunder-blast, + +The million with fierce song and maniac dance _110 +Raging around—such seemed the jubilee +As when to greet some conqueror’s advance + +Imperial Rome poured forth her living sea +From senate-house, and forum, and theatre, +When ... upon the free _115 + +Had bound a yoke, which soon they stooped to bear. +Nor wanted here the just similitude +Of a triumphal pageant, for where’er + +The chariot rolled, a captive multitude +Was driven;—all those who had grown old in power _120 +Or misery,—all who had their age subdued + +By action or by suffering, and whose hour +Was drained to its last sand in weal or woe, +So that the trunk survived both fruit and flower;— + +All those whose fame or infamy must grow _125 +Till the great winter lay the form and name +Of this green earth with them for ever low;— + +All but the sacred few who could not tame +Their spirits to the conquerors—but as soon +As they had touched the world with living flame, _130 + +Fled back like eagles to their native noon, +Or those who put aside the diadem +Of earthly thrones or gems... + +Were there, of Athens or Jerusalem. +Were neither mid the mighty captives seen, _135 +Nor mid the ribald crowd that followed them, + +Nor those who went before fierce and obscene. +The wild dance maddens in the van, and those +Who lead it—fleet as shadows on the green, + +Outspeed the chariot, and without repose _140 +Mix with each other in tempestuous measure +To savage music, wilder as it grows, + +They, tortured by their agonizing pleasure, +Convulsed and on the rapid whirlwinds spun +Of that fierce Spirit, whose unholy leisure _145 + +Was soothed by mischief since the world begun, +Throw back their heads and loose their streaming hair; +And in their dance round her who dims the sun, + +Maidens and youths fling their wild arms in air +As their feet twinkle; they recede, and now _150 +Bending within each other’s atmosphere, + +Kindle invisibly—and as they glow, +Like moths by light attracted and repelled, +Oft to their bright destruction come and go, + +Till like two clouds into one vale impelled, _155 +That shake the mountains when their lightnings mingle +And die in rain—the fiery band which held + +Their natures, snaps—while the shock still may tingle +One falls and then another in the path +Senseless—nor is the desolation single, _160 + +Yet ere I can say WHERE—the chariot hath +Passed over them—nor other trace I find +But as of foam after the ocean’s wrath + +Is spent upon the desert shore;—behind, +Old men and women foully disarrayed, _165 +Shake their gray hairs in the insulting wind, + +And follow in the dance, with limbs decayed, +Seeking to reach the light which leaves them still +Farther behind and deeper in the shade. + +But not the less with impotence of will _170 +They wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose +Round them and round each other, and fulfil + +Their work, and in the dust from whence they rose +Sink, and corruption veils them as they lie, +And past in these performs what ... in those. _175 + +Struck to the heart by this sad pageantry, +Half to myself I said—‘And what is this? +Whose shape is that within the car? And why—’ + +I would have added—‘is all here amiss?—’ +But a voice answered—‘Life!’—I turned, and knew _180 +(O Heaven, have mercy on such wretchedness!) + +That what I thought was an old root which grew +To strange distortion out of the hill side, +Was indeed one of those deluded crew, + +And that the grass, which methought hung so wide _185 +And white, was but his thin discoloured hair, +And that the holes he vainly sought to hide, + +Were or had been eyes:—‘If thou canst forbear +To join the dance, which I had well forborne,’ +Said the grim Feature, of my thought aware, _190 + +‘I will unfold that which to this deep scorn +Led me and my companions, and relate +The progress of the pageant since the morn; + +‘If thirst of knowledge shall not then abate, +Follow it thou even to the night, but I _195 +Am weary.’—Then like one who with the weight + +Of his own words is staggered, wearily +He paused; and ere he could resume, I cried: +‘First, who art thou?’—‘Before thy memory, + +‘I feared, loved, hated, suffered, did and died, _200 +And if the spark with which Heaven lit my spirit +Had been with purer nutriment supplied, + +‘Corruption would not now thus much inherit +Of what was once Rousseau,—nor this disguise +Stain that which ought to have disdained to wear it; _205 + +‘If I have been extinguished, yet there rise +A thousand beacons from the spark I bore’— +‘And who are those chained to the car?’—‘The wise, + +‘The great, the unforgotten,—they who wore +Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light, _210 +Signs of thought’s empire over thought—their lore + +‘Taught them not this, to know themselves; their might +Could not repress the mystery within, +And for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night + +‘Caught them ere evening.’—‘Who is he with chin _215 +Upon his breast, and hands crossed on his chain?’— +‘The child of a fierce hour; he sought to win + +‘The world, and lost all that it did contain +Of greatness, in its hope destroyed; and more +Of fame and peace than virtue’s self can gain _220 + +‘Without the opportunity which bore +Him on its eagle pinions to the peak +From which a thousand climbers have before + +‘Fallen, as Napoleon fell.’—I felt my cheek +Alter, to see the shadow pass away, _225 +Whose grasp had left the giant world so weak + +That every pigmy kicked it as it lay; +And much I grieved to think how power and will +In opposition rule our mortal day, + +And why God made irreconcilable _230 +Good and the means of good; and for despair +I half disdained mine eyes’ desire to fill + +With the spent vision of the times that were +And scarce have ceased to be.—‘Dost thou behold,’ +Said my guide, ‘those spoilers spoiled, Voltaire, _235 + +‘Frederick, and Paul, Catherine, and Leopold, +And hoary anarchs, demagogues, and sage— +names which the world thinks always old, + +‘For in the battle Life and they did wage, +She remained conqueror. I was overcome _240 +By my own heart alone, which neither age, + +‘Nor tears, nor infamy, nor now the tomb +Could temper to its object.’—‘Let them pass,’ +I cried, ‘the world and its mysterious doom + +‘Is not so much more glorious than it was, _245 +That I desire to worship those who drew +New figures on its false and fragile glass + +‘As the old faded.’—‘Figures ever new +Rise on the bubble, paint them as you may; +We have but thrown, as those before us threw, _250 + +‘Our shadows on it as it passed away. +But mark how chained to the triumphal chair +The mighty phantoms of an elder day; + +‘All that is mortal of great Plato there +Expiates the joy and woe his master knew not; _255 +The star that ruled his doom was far too fair. + +‘And life, where long that flower of Heaven grew not, +Conquered that heart by love, which gold, or pain, +Or age, or sloth, or slavery could subdue not. + +‘And near him walk the ... twain, _260 +The tutor and his pupil, whom Dominion +Followed as tame as vulture in a chain. + +‘The world was darkened beneath either pinion +Of him whom from the flock of conquerors +Fame singled out for her thunder-bearing minion; _265 + +‘The other long outlived both woes and wars, +Throned in the thoughts of men, and still had kept +The jealous key of Truth’s eternal doors, + +‘If Bacon’s eagle spirit had not lept +Like lightning out of darkness—he compelled _270 +The Proteus shape of Nature, as it slept + +‘To wake, and lead him to the caves that held +The treasure of the secrets of its reign. +See the great bards of elder time, who quelled + +‘The passions which they sung, as by their strain _275 +May well be known: their living melody +Tempers its own contagion to the vein + +‘Of those who are infected with it—I +Have suffered what I wrote, or viler pain! +And so my words have seeds of misery— _180 + +‘Even as the deeds of others, not as theirs.’ +And then he pointed to a company, + +‘Midst whom I quickly recognized the heirs +Of Caesar’s crime, from him to Constantine; +The anarch chiefs, whose force and murderous snares _285 + +Had founded many a sceptre-bearing line, +And spread the plague of gold and blood abroad: +And Gregory and John, and men divine, + +Who rose like shadows between man and God; +Till that eclipse, still hanging over heaven, _290 +Was worshipped by the world o’er which they strode, + +For the true sun it quenched—‘Their power was given +But to destroy,’ replied the leader:—‘I +Am one of those who have created, even + +‘If it be but a world of agony.’— _295 +‘Whence camest thou? and whither goest thou? +How did thy course begin?’ I said, ‘and why? + +‘Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow +Of people, and my heart sick of one sad thought— +Speak!’—‘Whence I am, I partly seem to know, _300 + +‘And how and by what paths I have been brought +To this dread pass, methinks even thou mayst guess;— +Why this should be, my mind can compass not; + +‘Whither the conqueror hurries me, still less;— +But follow thou, and from spectator turn _305 +Actor or victim in this wretchedness, + +‘And what thou wouldst be taught I then may learn +From thee. Now listen:—In the April prime, +When all the forest-tips began to burn + +‘With kindling green, touched by the azure clime _310 +Of the young season, I was laid asleep +Under a mountain, which from unknown time + +‘Had yawned into a cavern, high and deep; +And from it came a gentle rivulet, +Whose water, like clear air, in its calm sweep _315 + +‘Bent the soft grass, and kept for ever wet +The stems of the sweet flowers, and filled the grove +With sounds, which whoso hears must needs forget + +‘All pleasure and all pain, all hate and love, +Which they had known before that hour of rest; _320 +A sleeping mother then would dream not of + +‘Her only child who died upon the breast +At eventide—a king would mourn no more +The crown of which his brows were dispossessed + +‘When the sun lingered o’er his ocean floor _325 +To gild his rival’s new prosperity. +‘Thou wouldst forget thus vainly to deplore + +‘Ills, which if ills can find no cure from thee, +The thought of which no other sleep will quell, +Nor other music blot from memory, _330 + +‘So sweet and deep is the oblivious spell; +And whether life had been before that sleep +The Heaven which I imagine, or a Hell + +‘Like this harsh world in which I woke to weep, +I know not. I arose, and for a space _335 +The scene of woods and waters seemed to keep, + +Though it was now broad day, a gentle trace +Of light diviner than the common sun +Sheds on the common earth, and all the place + +‘Was filled with magic sounds woven into one _340 +Oblivious melody, confusing sense +Amid the gliding waves and shadows dun; + +‘And, as I looked, the bright omnipresence +Of morning through the orient cavern flowed, +And the sun’s image radiantly intense _345 + +‘Burned on the waters of the well that glowed +Like gold, and threaded all the forest’s maze +With winding paths of emerald fire; there stood + +‘Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze _350 +Of his own glory, on the vibrating +Floor of the fountain, paved with flashing rays, + +‘A Shape all light, which with one hand did fling +Dew on the earth, as if she were the dawn, +And the invisible rain did ever sing + +‘A silver music on the mossy lawn; _355 +And still before me on the dusky grass, +Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn: + +‘In her right hand she bore a crystal glass, +Mantling with bright Nepenthe; the fierce splendour +Fell from her as she moved under the mass _360 + +‘Of the deep cavern, and with palms so tender, +Their tread broke not the mirror of its billow, +Glided along the river, and did bend her + +‘Head under the dark boughs, till like a willow +Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream _365 +That whispered with delight to be its pillow. + +‘As one enamoured is upborne in dream +O’er lily-paven lakes, mid silver mist +To wondrous music, so this shape might seem + +‘Partly to tread the waves with feet which kissed _370 +The dancing foam; partly to glide along +The air which roughened the moist amethyst, + +‘Or the faint morning beams that fell among +The trees, or the soft shadows of the trees; +And her feet, ever to the ceaseless song _375 + +‘Of leaves, and winds, and waves, and birds, and bees, +And falling drops, moved in a measure new +Yet sweet, as on the summer evening breeze, + +‘Up from the lake a shape of golden dew +Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon, _380 +Dances i’ the wind, where never eagle flew; + +‘And still her feet, no less than the sweet tune +To which they moved, seemed as they moved to blot +The thoughts of him who gazed on them; and soon + +‘All that was, seemed as if it had been not; _385 +And all the gazer’s mind was strewn beneath +Her feet like embers; and she, thought by thought, + +‘Trampled its sparks into the dust of death +As day upon the threshold of the east +Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath _390 + +‘Of darkness re-illumine even the least +Of heaven’s living eyes—like day she came, +Making the night a dream; and ere she ceased + +‘To move, as one between desire and shame +Suspended, I said—If, as it doth seem, _395 +Thou comest from the realm without a name + +‘Into this valley of perpetual dream, +Show whence I came, and where I am, and why— +Pass not away upon the passing stream. + +‘Arise and quench thy thirst, was her reply. _400 +And as a shut lily stricken by the wand +Of dewy morning’s vital alchemy, + +‘I rose; and, bending at her sweet command, +Touched with faint lips the cup she raised, +And suddenly my brain became as sand _405 + +‘Where the first wave had more than half erased +The track of deer on desert Labrador; +Whilst the wolf, from which they fled amazed, + +‘Leaves his stamp visibly upon the shore, +Until the second bursts;—so on my sight _410 +Burst a new vision, never seen before, + +‘And the fair shape waned in the coming light, +As veil by veil the silent splendour drops +From Lucifer, amid the chrysolite + +‘Of sunrise, ere it tinge the mountain-tops; _415 +And as the presence of that fairest planet, +Although unseen, is felt by one who hopes + +‘That his day’s path may end as he began it, +In that star’s smile, whose light is like the scent +Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it, _420 + +‘Or the soft note in which his dear lament +The Brescian shepherd breathes, or the caress +That turned his weary slumber to content; + +‘So knew I in that light’s severe excess +The presence of that Shape which on the stream _425 +Moved, as I moved along the wilderness, + +‘More dimly than a day-appearing dream, +The host of a forgotten form of sleep; +A light of heaven, whose half-extinguished beam + +‘Through the sick day in which we wake to weep _430 +Glimmers, for ever sought, for ever lost; +So did that shape its obscure tenour keep + +‘Beside my path, as silent as a ghost; +But the new Vision, and the cold bright car, +With solemn speed and stunning music, crossed _435 + +‘The forest, and as if from some dread war +Triumphantly returning, the loud million +Fiercely extolled the fortune of her star. + +‘A moving arch of victory, the vermilion +And green and azure plumes of Iris had _440 +Built high over her wind-winged pavilion, + +‘And underneath aethereal glory clad +The wilderness, and far before her flew +The tempest of the splendour, which forbade + +‘Shadow to fall from leaf and stone; the crew _445 +Seemed in that light, like atomies to dance +Within a sunbeam;—some upon the new + +‘Embroidery of flowers, that did enhance +The grassy vesture of the desert, played, +Forgetful of the chariot’s swift advance; _450 + +‘Others stood gazing, till within the shade +Of the great mountain its light left them dim; +Others outspeeded it; and others made + +‘Circles around it, like the clouds that swim +Round the high moon in a bright sea of air; _455 +And more did follow, with exulting hymn, + +‘The chariot and the captives fettered there:— +But all like bubbles on an eddying flood +Fell into the same track at last, and were + +‘Borne onward.—I among the multitude _460 +Was swept—me, sweetest flowers delayed not long; +Me, not the shadow nor the solitude; + +‘Me, not that falling stream’s Lethean song; +Me, not the phantom of that early Form +Which moved upon its motion—but among _465 + +‘The thickest billows of that living storm +I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime +Of that cold light, whose airs too soon deform. + +‘Before the chariot had begun to climb +The opposing steep of that mysterious dell, _470 +Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme + +‘Of him who from the lowest depths of hell, +Through every paradise and through all glory, +Love led serene, and who returned to tell + +‘The words of hate and awe; the wondrous story _475 +How all things are transfigured except Love; +For deaf as is a sea, which wrath makes hoary, + +‘The world can hear not the sweet notes that move +The sphere whose light is melody to lovers— +A wonder worthy of his rhyme.—The grove _480 + +‘Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers, +The earth was gray with phantoms, and the air +Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers + +‘A flock of vampire-bats before the glare +Of the tropic sun, bringing, ere evening, _485 +Strange night upon some Indian isle;—thus were + +‘Phantoms diffused around; and some did fling +Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves, +Behind them; some like eaglets on the wing + +‘Were lost in the white day; others like elves _490 +Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes +Upon the sunny streams and grassy shelves; + +‘And others sate chattering like restless apes +On vulgar hands,... +Some made a cradle of the ermined capes _495 + +‘Of kingly mantles; some across the tiar +Of pontiffs sate like vultures; others played +Under the crown which girt with empire + +‘A baby’s or an idiot’s brow, and made +Their nests in it. The old anatomies _500 +Sate hatching their bare broods under the shade + +‘Of daemon wings, and laughed from their dead eyes +To reassume the delegated power, +Arrayed in which those worms did monarchize, + +‘Who made this earth their charnel. Others more _505 +Humble, like falcons, sate upon the fist +Of common men, and round their heads did soar; + +Or like small gnats and flies, as thick as mist +On evening marshes, thronged about the brow +Of lawyers, statesmen, priest and theorist;— _510 + +‘And others, like discoloured flakes of snow +On fairest bosoms and the sunniest hair, +Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow + +‘Which they extinguished; and, like tears, they were +A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained _515 +In drops of sorrow. I became aware + +‘Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained +The track in which we moved. After brief space, +From every form the beauty slowly waned; + +‘From every firmest limb and fairest face _520 +The strength and freshness fell like dust, and left +The action and the shape without the grace + +‘Of life. The marble brow of youth was cleft +With care; and in those eyes where once hope shone, +Desire, like a lioness bereft _525 + +‘Of her last cub, glared ere it died; each one +Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly +These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown + +‘In autumn evening from a poplar tree. _530 +Each like himself and like each other were +At first; but some distorted seemed to be + +‘Obscure clouds, moulded by the casual air; +And of this stuff the car’s creative ray +Wrought all the busy phantoms that were there, + +‘As the sun shapes the clouds; thus on the way _535 +Mask after mask fell from the countenance +And form of all; and long before the day + +‘Was old, the joy which waked like heaven’s glance +The sleepers in the oblivious valley, died; +And some grew weary of the ghastly dance, _540 + +‘And fell, as I have fallen, by the wayside;— +Those soonest from whose forms most shadows passed, +And least of strength and beauty did abide. + +‘Then, what is life? I cried.’— + + +CANCELLED OPENING OF THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE. + +[Published by Miss M. Blind, “Westminster Review”, July, 1870.] + +Out of the eastern shadow of the Earth, +Amid the clouds upon its margin gray +Scattered by Night to swathe in its bright birth + +In gold and fleecy snow the infant Day, +The glorious Sun arose: beneath his light, _5 +The earth and all... + + +_10-_17 A widow...sound 1870; omitted here 1824; + printed as ‘A Song,’ 1824, page 217. +_34, _35 dawn Bathe Mrs. Shelley (later editions); dawn, Bathed 1824, 1839. +_63 shunned Boscombe manuscript; spurned 1824, 1839. +_70 Of...interspersed Boscombe manuscript; + Of grassy paths and wood, lawn-interspersed 1824; + wood-lawn-interspersed 1839. +_84 form]frown 1824. +_93 light...beam]light upon the chariot beam; 1824. +_96 it omitted 1824. +_109 thunder Boscombe manuscript; thunders 1824; thunder’s 1839. +_112 greet Boscombe manuscript; meet 1824, 1839. +_129 conqueror or conqueror’s cj. A.C. Bradley. +_131-_134 See Editor’s Note. +_158 while Boscombe manuscript; omitted 1824, 1839. +_167 And...dance 1839 To seek, to [ ], to strain 1824. +_168 Seeking 1839; Limping 1824. +_188 canst, Mrs. Shelley 1824, 1839, 1847. +_189 forborne!’ 1824, 1839, 1847. +_190 Feature, (of my thought aware); Mrs. Shelley 1847. +_188-_190 The punctuation is A.C. Bradley’s. +_202 nutriment Boscombe manuscript; sentiment 1824, 1839. +_205 Stain]Stained 1824, 1839. +_235 Said my 1824, 1839; Said then my cj. Forman. +_238 names which the 1839: name the 1824. +_252 how]now cj. Forman. +_260 him 1839; omitted 1824. +_265 singled for cj. Forman. +_280 See Editor’s Note. +_281, _282 Even...then Boscombe manuscript; omitted 1824, 1839. +_296 camest Boscombe manuscript; comest 1824, 1839. +_311 season Boscombe manuscript; year’s dawn 1824, 1839. +_322 the Boscombe manuscript; her 1824, 1839. +_334 woke cj. A.C. Bradley; wake 1824, 1839. Cf. _296, footnote. +_361 Of...and Boscombe manuscript; Out of the deep cavern with 1824, 1839. +_363 Glided Boscombe manuscript; She glided 1824, 1839. +_377 in Boscombe manuscript; to 1824. +_422 The favourite song, Stanco di pascolar le pecorelle, + is a Brescian national air.—[MRS. SHELLEY’S NOTE.] +_464 early]aery cj. Forman. +_475 awe Boscombe manuscript; care 1824. +_486 isle Boscombe manuscript; vale 1824. +_497 sate like vultures Boscombe manuscript; rode like demons 1824. +_515 those]eyes cj. Rossetti. +_534 Wrought Boscombe manuscript; Wrapt 1824. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +THE COMPLETE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +VOLUME 2 + +OXFORD EDITION. +INCLUDING MATERIALS NEVER BEFORE +PRINTED IN ANY EDITION OF THE POEMS. + +EDITED WITH TEXTUAL NOTES + +BY + +THOMAS HUTCHINSON, M. A. +EDITOR OF THE OXFORD WORDSWORTH. + +1914. + + +CONTENTS. + + +EARLY POEMS [1814, 1815]: + +STANZA, WRITTEN AT BRACKNELL. + +STANZAS.—APRIL, 1814. + +TO HARRIET. + +TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT GODWIN. + +TO —. ‘YET LOOK ON ME’. + +MUTABILITY. + +ON DEATH. + +A SUMMER EVENING CHURCHYARD. + +TO —. ‘OH! THERE ARE SPIRITS OF THE AIR’. + +TO WORDSWORTH. + +FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OF BONAPARTE + +LINES: ‘THE COLD EARTH SLEPT BELOW’ + +NOTE ON THE EARLY POEMS, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1816: + +THE SUNSET. + +HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY. + +MONT BLANC. + +CANCELLED PASSAGE OF MONT BLANC. + +FRAGMENT: HOME. + +FRAGMENT OF A GHOST STORY. + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1816, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1817: + +MARIANNE’S DREAM. + +TO CONSTANTIA, SINGING. + +THE SAME: STANZAS 1 AND 2. + +TO CONSTANTIA. + +FRAGMENT: TO ONE SINGING. + +A FRAGMENT: TO MUSIC. + +ANOTHER FRAGMENT TO MUSIC. + +‘MIGHTY EAGLE’. + +TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR. + +TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. + +FROM THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THE POEM TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. + +ON FANNY GODWIN. + +LINES: ‘THAT TIME IS DEAD FOR EVER’. + +DEATH. + +OTHO. + +FRAGMENTS SUPPOSED TO BE PARTS OF OTHO. + +‘O THAT A CHARIOT OF CLOUD WERE MINE’. + +FRAGMENTS: + TO A FRIEND RELEASED FROM PRISON. + SATAN BROKEN LOOSE. + IGNICULUS DESIDERII. + AMOR AETERNUS. + THOUGHTS COME AND GO IN SOLITUDE. + +A HATE-SONG. + +LINES TO A CRITIC. + +OZYMANDIAS. + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1817, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1818. + +TO THE NILE. + +PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES. + +THE PAST. + +TO MARY —. + +ON A FADED VIOLET. + +LINES WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS. + +SCENE FROM “TASSO”. + +SONG FOR “TASSO”. + +INVOCATION TO MISERY. + +STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION, NEAR NAPLES. + +THE WOODMAN AND THE NIGHTINGALE. + +MARENGHI. + +SONNET: ‘LIFT NOT THE PAINTED VEIL’. + +FRAGMENTS: + TO BYRON. + APOSTROPHE TO SILENCE. + THE LAKE’S MARGIN. + ‘MY HEAD IS WILD WITH WEEPING’. + THE VINE-SHROUD. + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1818, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1819: + +LINES WRITTEN DURING THE CASTLEREAGH ADMINISTRATION. + +SONG TO THE MEN OF ENGLAND. + +SIMILES FOR TWO POLITICAL CHARACTERS OF 1819. + +FRAGMENT: TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND. + +FRAGMENT: ‘WHAT MEN GAIN FAIRLY’. + +A NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM. + +SONNET: ENGLAND IN 1819. + +AN ODE WRITTEN OCTOBER, 1819. + +CANCELLED STANZA. + +ODE TO HEAVEN. + +ODE TO THE WEST WIND. + +AN EXHORTATION. + +THE INDIAN SERENADE. + +CANCELLED PASSAGE. + +TO SOPHIA [MISS STACEY]. + +TO WILLIAM SHELLEY, 1. + +TO WILLIAM SHELLEY, 2. + +TO MARY SHELLEY, 1. + +TO MARY SHELLEY, 2. + +ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI. + +LOVE’S PHILOSOPHY. + +FRAGMENT: ‘FOLLOW TO THE DEEP WOOD’S WEEDS’. + +THE BIRTH OF PLEASURE. + +FRAGMENTS: + LOVE THE UNIVERSE TO-DAY. + ‘A GENTLE STORY OF TWO LOVERS YOUNG’. + LOVE’S TENDER ATMOSPHERE. + WEDDED SOULS. + ‘IS IT THAT IN SOME BRIGHTER SPHERE’. + SUFFICIENT UNTO THE DAY. + ‘YE GENTLE VISITATIONS OF CALM THOUGHT’. + MUSIC AND SWEET POETRY. + THE SEPULCHRE OF MEMORY. + ‘WHEN A LOVER CLASPS HIS FAIREST’. + ‘WAKE THE SERPENT NOT’. + RAIN. + A TALE UNTOLD. + TO ITALY. + WINE OF THE FAIRIES. + A ROMAN’S CHAMBER. + ROME AND NATURE. + +VARIATION OF THE SONG OF THE MOON. + +CANCELLED STANZA OF THE MASK OF ANARCHY. + +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1820: + +THE SENSITIVE PLANT. + +CANCELLED PASSAGE. + +A VISION OF THE SEA. + +THE CLOUD. + +TO A SKYLARK. + +ODE TO LIBERTY. + +CANCELLED PASSAGE. + +TO —. ‘I FEAR THY KISSES, GENTLE MAIDEN’. + +ARETHUSA. + +SONG OF PROSERPINE. + +HYMN OF APOLLO. + +HYMN OF PAN. + +THE QUESTION. + +THE TWO SPIRITS. AN ALLEGORY. + +ODE TO NAPLES. + +AUTUMN: A DIRGE. + +THE WANING MOON. + +TO THE MOON. + +DEATH. + +LIBERTY. + +SUMMER AND WINTER. + +THE TOWER OF FAMINE. + +AN ALLEGORY. + +THE WORLD’S WANDERERS. + +SONNET: ‘YE HASTEN TO THE GRAVE!‘. + +LINES TO A REVIEWER. + +FRAGMENT OF A SATIRE ON SATIRE. + +GOOD-NIGHT. + +BUONA NOTTE. + +ORPHEUS. + +FIORDISPINA. + +TIME LONG PAST. + +FRAGMENTS: + THE DESERTS OF DIM SLEEP. + ‘THE VIEWLESS AND INVISIBLE CONSEQUENCE’. + A SERPENT-FACE. + DEATH IN LIFE. + ‘SUCH HOPE, AS IS THE SICK DESPAIR OF GOOD’. + ‘ALAS THIS IS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT LIFE WAS’. + MILTON’S SPIRIT. + ‘UNRISEN SPLENDOUR OF THE BRIGHTEST SUN’. + PATER OMNIPOTENS. + TO THE MIND OF MAN. + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1820, BY MRS SHELLEY. + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821: + +DIRGE FOR THE YEAR. + +TO NIGHT. + +TIME. + +LINES: ‘FAR, FAR AWAY’. + +FROM THE ARABIC: AN IMITATION. + +TO EMILIA VIVIANI. + +THE FUGITIVES. + +TO —. ‘MUSIC, WHEN SOFT VOICES DIE’. + +SONG: ‘RARELY, RARELY, COMEST THOU’. + +MUTABILITY. + +LINES WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON. + +SONNET: POLITICAL GREATNESS. + +THE AZIOLA. + +A LAMENT. + +REMEMBRANCE. + +TO EDWARD WILLIAMS. + +TO —. ‘ONE WORD IS TOO OFTEN PROFANED’. + +TO —. ‘WHEN PASSION’S TRANCE IS OVERPAST’. + +A BRIDAL SONG. + +EPITHALAMIUM. + +ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME. + +LOVE, HOPE, DESIRE, AND FEAR. + +FRAGMENTS WRITTEN FOR “HELLAS”. + +FRAGMENT: ‘I WOULD NOT BE A KING’. + +GINEVRA. + +EVENING: PONTE AL MARE, PISA. + +THE BOAT ON THE SERCHIO. + +MUSIC. + +SONNET TO BYRON. + +FRAGMENT ON KEATS. + +FRAGMENT: ‘METHOUGHT I WAS A BILLOW IN THE CROWD’. + +TO-MORROW. + +STANZA: ‘IF I WALK IN AUTUMN’S EVEN’. + +FRAGMENTS: + A WANDERER. + LIFE ROUNDED WITH SLEEP. + ‘I FAINT, I PERISH WITH MY LOVE’. + THE LADY OF THE SOUTH. + ZEPHYRUS THE AWAKENER. + RAIN. + ‘WHEN SOFT WINDS AND SUNNY SKIES’. + ‘AND THAT I WALK THUS PROUDLY CROWNED’. + ‘THE RUDE WIND IS SINGING’. + ‘GREAT SPIRIT’. + ‘O THOU IMMORTAL DEITY’. + THE FALSE LAUREL AND THE TRUE. + MAY THE LIMNER. + BEAUTY’S HALO. + ‘THE DEATH KNELL IS RINGING’. + ‘I STOOD UPON A HEAVEN-CLEAVING TURRET’. + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1821, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822: + +THE ZUCCA. + +THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT. + +LINES: ‘WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED’. + +TO JANE: THE INVITATION. + +TO JANE: THE RECOLLECTION. + +THE PINE FOREST OF THE CASCINE NEAR PISA. + +WITH A GUITAR, TO JANE. + +TO JANE: ‘THE KEEN STARS WERE TWINKLING’. + +A DIRGE. + +LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY OF LERICI. + +LINES: ‘WE MEET NOT AS WE PARTED’. + +THE ISLE. + +FRAGMENT: TO THE MOON. + +EPITAPH. + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1822, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + + +*** + + +EARLY POEMS [1814, 1815]. + +[The poems which follow appeared, with a few exceptions, either in the +volumes published from time to time by Shelley himself, or in the +“Posthumous Poems” of 1824, or in the “Poetical Works” of 1839, of +which a second and enlarged edition was published by Mrs. Shelley in +the same year. A few made their first appearance in some fugitive +publication—such as Leigh Hunt’s “Literary Pocket-Book”—and were +subsequently incorporated in the collective editions. In every case the +editio princeps and (where this is possible) the exact date of +composition are indicated below the title.] + +*** + + +STANZA, WRITTEN AT BRACKNELL. + +[Composed March, 1814. Published in Hogg’s “Life of Shelley”, 1858.] + +Thy dewy looks sink in my breast; +Thy gentle words stir poison there; +Thou hast disturbed the only rest +That was the portion of despair! +Subdued to Duty’s hard control, _5 +I could have borne my wayward lot: +The chains that bind this ruined soul +Had cankered then—but crushed it not. + +*** + + +STANZAS.—APRIL, 1814. + +[Composed at Bracknell, April, 1814. Published with “Alastor”, 1816.] + +Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, +Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even: +Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, +And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven. + +Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away! _5 +Tempt not with one last tear thy friend’s ungentle mood: +Thy lover’s eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay: +Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude. + +Away, away! to thy sad and silent home; +Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; _10 +Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come, +And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth. + +The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head: +The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet: +But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead, _15 +Ere midnight’s frown and morning’s smile, ere thou and peace may meet. + +The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose, +For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep: +Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows; +Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its appointed sleep. _20 + +Thou in the grave shalt rest—yet till the phantoms flee +Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile, +Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings are not free +From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile. + +NOTE: +_6 tear 1816; glance 1839. + +*** + + +TO HARRIET. + +[Composed May, 1814. Published (from the Esdaile manuscript) by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887.] + +Thy look of love has power to calm +The stormiest passion of my soul; +Thy gentle words are drops of balm +In life’s too bitter bowl; +No grief is mine, but that alone _5 +These choicest blessings I have known. + +Harriet! if all who long to live +In the warm sunshine of thine eye, +That price beyond all pain must give,— +Beneath thy scorn to die; _10 +Then hear thy chosen own too late +His heart most worthy of thy hate. + +Be thou, then, one among mankind +Whose heart is harder not for state, +Thou only virtuous, gentle, kind, _15 +Amid a world of hate; +And by a slight endurance seal +A fellow-being’s lasting weal. + +For pale with anguish is his cheek, +His breath comes fast, his eyes are dim, _20 +Thy name is struggling ere he speak, +Weak is each trembling limb; +In mercy let him not endure +The misery of a fatal cure. + +Oh, trust for once no erring guide! _25 +Bid the remorseless feeling flee; +’Tis malice, ’tis revenge, ’tis pride, +’Tis anything but thee; +Oh, deign a nobler pride to prove, +And pity if thou canst not love. _30 + +*** + + +TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT GODWIN. + +[Composed June, 1814. Published in “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed; +Yes, I was firm—thus wert not thou;— +My baffled looks did fear yet dread +To meet thy looks—I could not know +How anxiously they sought to shine _5 +With soothing pity upon mine. + +2. +To sit and curb the soul’s mute rage +Which preys upon itself alone; +To curse the life which is the cage +Of fettered grief that dares not groan, _10 +Hiding from many a careless eye +The scorned load of agony. + +3. +Whilst thou alone, then not regarded, +The ... thou alone should be, +To spend years thus, and be rewarded, _15 +As thou, sweet love, requited me +When none were near—Oh! I did wake +From torture for that moment’s sake. + +4. +Upon my heart thy accents sweet +Of peace and pity fell like dew _20 +On flowers half dead;—thy lips did meet +Mine tremblingly; thy dark eyes threw +Their soft persuasion on my brain, +Charming away its dream of pain. + +5. +We are not happy, sweet! our state _25 +Is strange and full of doubt and fear; +More need of words that ills abate;— +Reserve or censure come not near +Our sacred friendship, lest there be +No solace left for thee and me. _30 + +6. +Gentle and good and mild thou art, +Nor can I live if thou appear +Aught but thyself, or turn thine heart +Away from me, or stoop to wear +The mask of scorn, although it be _35 +To hide the love thou feel’st for me. + +NOTES: +_2 wert 1839; did 1824. +_3 fear 1824, 1839; yearn cj. Rossetti. +_23 Their 1839; thy 1824. +_30 thee]thou 1824, 1839. +_32 can I 1839; I can 1824. +_36 feel’st 1839; feel 1824. + +*** + +TO —. + +[Published in “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition. See Editor’s Note.] + +Yet look on me—take not thine eyes away, +Which feed upon the love within mine own, +Which is indeed but the reflected ray +Of thine own beauty from my spirit thrown. +Yet speak to me—thy voice is as the tone _5 +Of my heart’s echo, and I think I hear +That thou yet lovest me; yet thou alone +Like one before a mirror, without care +Of aught but thine own features, imaged there; + +And yet I wear out life in watching thee; _10 +A toil so sweet at times, and thou indeed +Art kind when I am sick, and pity me... + +*** + + +MUTABILITY. + +[Published with “Alastor”, 1816.] + +We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; +How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, +Streaking the darkness radiantly!—yet soon +Night closes round, and they are lost for ever: + +Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings _5 +Give various response to each varying blast, +To whose frail frame no second motion brings +One mood or modulation like the last. + +We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep; +We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day; _10 +We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; +Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away: + +It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow, +The path of its departure still is free: +Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow; _15 +Nought may endure but Mutability. + +NOTES: +_15 may 1816; can Lodore, chapter 49, 1835 (Mrs. Shelley). +_16 Nought may endure but 1816; + Nor aught endure save Lodore, chapter 49, 1835 (Mrs. Shelley). + +*** + + +ON DEATH. + +[For the date of composition see Editor’s Note. +Published with “Alastor”, 1816.] + +THERE IS NO WORK, NOR DEVICE, NOR KNOWLEDGE, NOR WISDOM, +IN THE GRAVE, WHITHER THOU GOEST.—Ecclesiastes. + +The pale, the cold, and the moony smile +Which the meteor beam of a starless night +Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle, +Ere the dawning of morn’s undoubted light, +Is the flame of life so fickle and wan +That flits round our steps till their strength is gone. _5 + +O man! hold thee on in courage of soul +Through the stormy shades of thy worldly way, +And the billows of cloud that around thee roll +Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day, _10 +Where Hell and Heaven shall leave thee free +To the universe of destiny. + +This world is the nurse of all we know, +This world is the mother of all we feel, +And the coming of death is a fearful blow _15 +To a brain unencompassed with nerves of steel; +When all that we know, or feel, or see, +Shall pass like an unreal mystery. + +The secret things of the grave are there, +Where all but this frame must surely be, _20 +Though the fine-wrought eye and the wondrous ear +No longer will live to hear or to see +All that is great and all that is strange +In the boundless realm of unending change. + +Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death? _25 +Who lifteth the veil of what is to come? +Who painteth the shadows that are beneath +The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb? +Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be +With the fears and the love for that which we see? _30 + +*** + + +A SUMMER EVENING CHURCHYARD. + +LECHLADE, GLOUCESTERSHIRE. + +[Composed September, 1815. Published with “Alastor”, 1816.] + +The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere +Each vapour that obscured the sunset’s ray; +And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair +In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day: +Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, _5 +Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen. + +They breathe their spells towards the departing day, +Encompassing the earth, air, stars, and sea; +Light, sound, and motion own the potent sway, +Responding to the charm with its own mystery. _10 +The winds are still, or the dry church-tower grass +Knows not their gentle motions as they pass. + +Thou too, aereal Pile! whose pinnacles +Point from one shrine like pyramids of fire, +Obeyest in silence their sweet solemn spells, _15 +Clothing in hues of heaven thy dim and distant spire, +Around whose lessening and invisible height +Gather among the stars the clouds of night. + +The dead are sleeping in their sepulchres: +And, mouldering as they sleep, a thrilling sound, _20 +Half sense, half thought, among the darkness stirs, +Breathed from their wormy beds all living things around, +And mingling with the still night and mute sky +Its awful hush is felt inaudibly. + +Thus solemnized and softened, death is mild _25 +And terrorless as this serenest night: +Here could I hope, like some inquiring child +Sporting on graves, that death did hide from human sight +Sweet secrets, or beside its breathless sleep +That loveliest dreams perpetual watch did keep. _30 + +*** + + +TO —. + +[Published with “Alastor”, 1816. See Editor’s Note.] + +DAKRTSI DIOISO POTMON ‘APOTMON. + +Oh! there are spirits of the air, +And genii of the evening breeze, +And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair +As star-beams among twilight trees:— +Such lovely ministers to meet _5 +Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet. + +With mountain winds, and babbling springs, +And moonlight seas, that are the voice +Of these inexplicable things, +Thou didst hold commune, and rejoice _10 +When they did answer thee; but they +Cast, like a worthless boon, thy love away. + +And thou hast sought in starry eyes +Beams that were never meant for thine, +Another’s wealth:—tame sacrifice +To a fond faith! still dost thou pine? _15 +Still dost thou hope that greeting hands, +Voice, looks, or lips, may answer thy demands? + +Ah! wherefore didst thou build thine hope +On the false earth’s inconstancy? _20 +Did thine own mind afford no scope +Of love, or moving thoughts to thee? +That natural scenes or human smiles +Could steal the power to wind thee in their wiles? + +Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled _25 +Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted; +The glory of the moon is dead; +Night’s ghosts and dreams have now departed; +Thine own soul still is true to thee, +But changed to a foul fiend through misery. _30 + +This fiend, whose ghastly presence ever +Beside thee like thy shadow hangs, +Dream not to chase;—the mad endeavour +Would scourge thee to severer pangs. +Be as thou art. Thy settled fate, +Dark as it is, all change would aggravate. _35 + +NOTES: +_1 of 1816; in 1839. +_8 moonlight 1816; mountain 1839. + +*** + + +TO WORDSWORTH. + +[Published with “Alastor”, 1816.] + +Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know +That things depart which never may return: +Childhood and youth, friendship and love’s first glow, +Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn. +These common woes I feel. One loss is mine _5 +Which thou too feel’st, yet I alone deplore. +Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine +On some frail bark in winter’s midnight roar: +Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood +Above the blind and battling multitude: _10 +In honoured poverty thy voice did weave +Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,— +Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve, +Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be. + +*** + + +FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OF BONAPARTE. + +[Published with “Alastor”, 1816.] + +I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan +To think that a most unambitious slave, +Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave +Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne +Where it had stood even now: thou didst prefer _5 +A frail and bloody pomp which Time has swept +In fragments towards Oblivion. Massacre, +For this I prayed, would on thy sleep have crept, +Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear, and Lust, +And stifled thee, their minister. I know _10 +Too late, since thou and France are in the dust, +That Virtue owns a more eternal foe +Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime, +And bloody Faith the foulest birth of Time. + +*** + + +LINES. + +[Published in Hunt’s “Literary Pocket-Book”, 1823, where it is headed +“November, 1815”. Reprinted in the “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. See +Editor’s Note.] + +1. +The cold earth slept below, +Above the cold sky shone; +And all around, with a chilling sound, +From caves of ice and fields of snow, +The breath of night like death did flow _5 +Beneath the sinking moon. + +2. +The wintry hedge was black, +The green grass was not seen, +The birds did rest on the bare thorn’s breast, +Whose roots, beside the pathway track, _10 +Had bound their folds o’er many a crack +Which the frost had made between. + +3. +Thine eyes glowed in the glare +Of the moon’s dying light; +As a fen-fire’s beam on a sluggish stream _15 +Gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, +And it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair, +That shook in the wind of night. + +4. +The moon made thy lips pale, beloved— +The wind made thy bosom chill— _20 +The night did shed on thy dear head +Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie +Where the bitter breath of the naked sky +Might visit thee at will. + +NOTE: +_17 raven 1823; tangled 1824. + +*** + + +NOTE ON THE EARLY POEMS, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +The remainder of Shelley’s Poems will be arranged in the order in which +they were written. Of course, mistakes will occur in placing some of +the shorter ones; for, as I have said, many of these were thrown aside, +and I never saw them till I had the misery of looking over his writings +after the hand that traced them was dust; and some were in the hands of +others, and I never saw them till now. The subjects of the poems are +often to me an unerring guide; but on other occasions I can only guess, +by finding them in the pages of the same manuscript book that contains +poems with the date of whose composition I am fully conversant. In the +present arrangement all his poetical translations will be placed +together at the end. + +The loss of his early papers prevents my being able to give any of the +poetry of his boyhood. Of the few I give as “Early Poems”, the greater +part were published with “Alastor”; some of them were written +previously, some at the same period. The poem beginning ‘Oh, there are +spirits in the air’ was addressed in idea to Coleridge, whom he never +knew; and at whose character he could only guess imperfectly, through +his writings, and accounts he heard of him from some who knew him well. +He regarded his change of opinions as rather an act of will than +conviction, and believed that in his inner heart he would be haunted by +what Shelley considered the better and holier aspirations of his youth. +The summer evening that suggested to him the poem written in the +churchyard of Lechlade occurred during his voyage up the Thames in +1815. He had been advised by a physician to live as much as possible in +the open air; and a fortnight of a bright warm July was spent in +tracing the Thames to its source. He never spent a season more +tranquilly than the summer of 1815. He had just recovered from a severe +pulmonary attack; the weather was warm and pleasant. He lived near +Windsor Forest; and his life was spent under its shades or on the +water, meditating subjects for verse. Hitherto, he had chiefly aimed at +extending his political doctrines, and attempted so to do by appeals in +prose essays to the people, exhorting them to claim their rights; but +he had now begun to feel that the time for action was not ripe in +England, and that the pen was the only instrument wherewith to prepare +the way for better things. + +In the scanty journals kept during those years I find a record of the +books that Shelley read during several years. During the years of 1814 +and 1815 the list is extensive. It includes, in Greek, Homer, Hesiod, +Theocritus, the histories of Thucydides and Herodotus, and Diogenes +Laertius. In Latin, Petronius, Suetonius, some of the works of Cicero, +a large proportion of those of Seneca and Livy. In English, Milton’s +poems, Wordsworth’s “Excursion”, Southey’s “Madoc” and “Thalaba”, Locke +“On the Human Understanding”, Bacon’s “Novum Organum”. In Italian, +Ariosto, Tasso, and Alfieri. In French, the “Reveries d’un Solitaire” +of Rousseau. To these may be added several modern books of travel. He +read few novels. + +*** + + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1816. + + +THE SUNSET. + +[Written at Bishopsgate, 1816 (spring). Published in full in the +“Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Lines 9-20, and 28-42, appeared in Hunt’s +“Literary Pocket-Book”, 1823, under the titles, respectively, of +“Sunset. From an Unpublished Poem”, And “Grief. A Fragment”.] + +There late was One within whose subtle being, +As light and wind within some delicate cloud +That fades amid the blue noon’s burning sky, +Genius and death contended. None may know +The sweetness of the joy which made his breath _5 +Fail, like the trances of the summer air, +When, with the Lady of his love, who then +First knew the unreserve of mingled being, +He walked along the pathway of a field +Which to the east a hoar wood shadowed o’er, _10 +But to the west was open to the sky. +There now the sun had sunk, but lines of gold +Hung on the ashen clouds, and on the points +Of the far level grass and nodding flowers +And the old dandelion’s hoary beard, _15 +And, mingled with the shades of twilight, lay +On the brown massy woods—and in the east +The broad and burning moon lingeringly rose +Between the black trunks of the crowded trees, +While the faint stars were gathering overhead.— _20 +‘Is it not strange, Isabel,’ said the youth, +‘I never saw the sun? We will walk here +To-morrow; thou shalt look on it with me.’ + +That night the youth and lady mingled lay +In love and sleep—but when the morning came _25 +The lady found her lover dead and cold. +Let none believe that God in mercy gave +That stroke. The lady died not, nor grew wild, +But year by year lived on—in truth I think +Her gentleness and patience and sad smiles, _30 +And that she did not die, but lived to tend +Her aged father, were a kind of madness, +If madness ’tis to be unlike the world. +For but to see her were to read the tale +Woven by some subtlest bard, to make hard hearts _35 +Dissolve away in wisdom-working grief;— +Her eyes were black and lustreless and wan: +Her eyelashes were worn away with tears, +Her lips and cheeks were like things dead—so pale; +Her hands were thin, and through their wandering veins _40 +And weak articulations might be seen +Day’s ruddy light. The tomb of thy dead self +Which one vexed ghost inhabits, night and day, +Is all, lost child, that now remains of thee! + +‘Inheritor of more than earth can give, _45 +Passionless calm and silence unreproved, +Whether the dead find, oh, not sleep! but rest, +And are the uncomplaining things they seem, +Or live, or drop in the deep sea of Love; +Oh, that like thine, mine epitaph were—Peace!’ _50 +This was the only moan she ever made. + +NOTES: +_4 death 1839; youth 1824. +_22 sun? We will walk 1824; sunrise? We will wake cj. Forman. +_37 Her eyes...wan Hunt, 1823; omitted 1824, 1839. +_38 worn 1824; torn 1839. + +*** + + +HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY. + +[Composed, probably, in Switzerland, in the summer of 1816. Published +in Hunt’s “Examiner”, January 19, 1817, and with “Rosalind and Helen”, +1819.] + +1. +The awful shadow of some unseen Power +Floats though unseen among us,—visiting +This various world with as inconstant wing +As summer winds that creep from flower to flower,— +Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, _5 +It visits with inconstant glance +Each human heart and countenance; +Like hues and harmonies of evening,— +Like clouds in starlight widely spread,— +Like memory of music fled,— _10 +Like aught that for its grace may be +Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery. + +2. +Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate +With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon +Of human thought or form,—where art thou gone? _15 +Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, +This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate? +Ask why the sunlight not for ever +Weaves rainbows o’er yon mountain-river, +Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown, _20 +Why fear and dream and death and birth +Cast on the daylight of this earth +Such gloom,—why man has such a scope +For love and hate, despondency and hope? + +3. +No voice from some sublimer world hath ever _25 +To sage or poet these responses given— +Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven. +Remain the records of their vain endeavour, +Frail spells—whose uttered charm might not avail to sever, +From all we hear and all we see, _30 +Doubt, chance, and mutability. +Thy light alone—like mist o’er mountains driven, +Or music by the night-wind sent +Through strings of some still instrument, +Or moonlight on a midnight stream, _35 +Gives grace and truth to life’s unquiet dream. + +4. +Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds depart +And come, for some uncertain moments lent. +Man were immortal, and omnipotent, +Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, _40 +Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart. +Thou messenger of sympathies, +That wax and wane in lovers’ eyes— +Thou—that to human thought art nourishment, +Like darkness to a dying flame! _45 +Depart not as thy shadow came +Depart not—lest the grave should be, +Like life and fear, a dark reality. + +5. +While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped +Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, _50 +And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing +Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. +I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed; +I was not heard—I saw them not— +When musing deeply on the lot _55 +Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing +All vital things that wake to bring +News of birds and blossoming,— +Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; +I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy! _60 + +6. +I vowed that I would dedicate my powers +To thee and thine—have I not kept the vow? +With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now +I call the phantoms of a thousand hours +Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers _65 +Of studious zeal or love’s delight +Outwatched with me the envious night— +They know that never joy illumed my brow +Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free +This world from its dark slavery, _70 +That thou—O awful LOVELINESS, +Wouldst give whate’er these words cannot express. + +7. +The day becomes more solemn and serene +When noon is past—there is a harmony +In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, _75 +Which through the summer is not heard or seen, +As if it could not be, as if it had not been! +Thus let thy power, which like the truth +Of nature on my passive youth +Descended, to my onward life supply _80 +Its calm—to one who worships thee, +And every form containing thee, +Whom, SPIRIT fair, thy spells did bind +To fear himself, and love all human kind. + +NOTES: +_2 among 1819; amongst 1817. +_14 dost 1819; doth 1817. +_21 fear and dream 1819; care and pain Boscombe manuscript. +_37-_48 omitted Boscombe manuscript. +_44 art 1817; are 1819. +_76 or 1819; nor 1839. + +*** + + +MONT BLANC. + +LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI. + +[Composed in Switzerland, July, 1816 (see date below). Printed at the +end of the “History of a Six Weeks’ Tour” published by Shelley in 1817, +and reprinted with “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Amongst the Boscombe +manuscripts is a draft of this Ode, mainly in pencil, which has been +collated by Dr. Garnett.] + +1. +The everlasting universe of things +Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, +Now dark—now glittering—now reflecting gloom— +Now lending splendour, where from secret springs +The source of human thought its tribute brings _5 +Of waters,—with a sound but half its own, +Such as a feeble brook will oft assume +In the wild woods, among the mountains lone, +Where waterfalls around it leap for ever, +Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river _10 +Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves. + +2. +Thus thou, Ravine of Arve—dark, deep Ravine— +Thou many-coloured, many-voiced vale, +Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail +Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene, _15 +Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down +From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne, +Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame +Of lightning through the tempest;—thou dost lie, +Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging, _20 +Children of elder time, in whose devotion +The chainless winds still come and ever came +To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging +To hear—an old and solemn harmony; +Thine earthly rainbows stretched across the sweep _25 +Of the ethereal waterfall, whose veil +Robes some unsculptured image; the strange sleep +Which when the voices of the desert fail +Wraps all in its own deep eternity;— +Thy caverns echoing to the Arve’s commotion, _30 +A loud, lone sound no other sound can tame; +Thou art pervaded with that ceaseless motion, +Thou art the path of that unresting sound— +Dizzy Ravine! and when I gaze on thee +I seem as in a trance sublime and strange _35 +To muse on my own separate fantasy, +My own, my human mind, which passively +Now renders and receives fast influencings, +Holding an unremitting interchange +With the clear universe of things around; _40 +One legion of wild thoughts, whose wandering wings +Now float above thy darkness, and now rest +Where that or thou art no unbidden guest, +In the still cave of the witch Poesy, +Seeking among the shadows that pass by _45 +Ghosts of all things that are, some shade of thee, +Some phantom, some faint image; till the breast +From which they fled recalls them, thou art there! + +3. +Some say that gleams of a remoter world +Visit the soul in sleep,—that death is slumber, _50 +And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber +Of those who wake and live.—I look on high; +Has some unknown omnipotence unfurled +The veil of life and death? or do I lie +In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep _55 +Spread far around and inaccessibly +Its circles? For the very spirit fails, +Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep +That vanishes among the viewless gales! +Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, _60 +Mont Blanc appears,—still, snowy, and serene— +Its subject mountains their unearthly forms +Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between +Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps, +Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread _65 +And wind among the accumulated steeps; +A desert peopled by the storms alone, +Save when the eagle brings some hunter’s bone, +And the wolf tracts her there—how hideously +Its shapes are heaped around! rude, bare, and high, _70 +Ghastly, and scarred, and riven.—Is this the scene +Where the old Earthquake-daemon taught her young +Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea +Of fire envelope once this silent snow? +None can reply—all seems eternal now. _75 +The wilderness has a mysterious tongue +Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild, +So solemn, so serene, that man may be, +But for such faith, with nature reconciled; +Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal _80 +Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood +By all, but which the wise, and great, and good +Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel. + +4. +The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams, +Ocean, and all the living things that dwell _85 +Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain, +Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane, +The torpor of the year when feeble dreams +Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep +Holds every future leaf and flower;—the bound _90 +With which from that detested trance they leap; +The works and ways of man, their death and birth, +And that of him and all that his may be; +All things that move and breathe with toil and sound +Are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell. _95 +Power dwells apart in its tranquillity, +Remote, serene, and inaccessible: +And THIS, the naked countenance of earth, +On which I gaze, even these primaeval mountains +Teach the adverting mind. The glaciers creep _100 +Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains, +Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice, +Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power +Have piled: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle, +A city of death, distinct with many a tower _105 +And wall impregnable of beaming ice. +Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin +Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky +Rolls its perpetual stream; vast pines are strewing +Its destined path, or in the mangled soil _110 +Branchless and shattered stand; the rocks, drawn down +From yon remotest waste, have overthrown +The limits of the dead and living world, +Never to be reclaimed. The dwelling-place +Of insects, beasts, and birds, becomes its spoil; _115 +Their food and their retreat for ever gone, +So much of life and joy is lost. The race +Of man flies far in dread; his work and dwelling +Vanish, like smoke before the tempest’s stream, +And their place is not known. Below, vast caves _120 +Shine in the rushing torrents’ restless gleam, +Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling +Meet in the vale, and one majestic River, +The breath and blood of distant lands, for ever +Rolls its loud waters to the ocean waves, _125 +Breathes its swift vapours to the circling air. + +5. +Mont Blanc yet gleams on high—the power is there, +The still and solemn power of many sights, +And many sounds, and much of life and death. +In the calm darkness of the moonless nights, _130 +In the lone glare of day, the snows descend +Upon that Mountain; none beholds them there, +Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun, +Or the star-beams dart through them:—Winds contend +Silently there, and heap the snow with breath _135 +Rapid and strong, but silently! Its home +The voiceless lightning in these solitudes +Keeps innocently, and like vapour broods +Over the snow. The secret strength of things +Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome _140 +Of heaven is as a law, inhabits thee! +And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea, +If to the human mind’s imaginings +Silence and solitude were vacancy? + +July 23, 1816. + +NOTES: +_15 cloud-shadows]cloud shadows 1817; + cloud, shadows 1824; clouds, shadows 1839. +_20 Thy 1824; The 1839. +_53 unfurled]upfurled cj. James Thomson (‘B.V.’). +_56 Spread 1824; Speed 1839. +_69 tracks her there 1824; watches her Boscombe manuscript. +_79 But for such 1824; In such a Boscombe manuscript. +_108 boundaries of the sky]boundary of the skies cj. Rossetti + (cf. lines 102, 106). +_121 torrents’]torrent’s 1817, 1824, 1839. + +*** + + +CANCELLED PASSAGE OF MONT BLANC. + +[Published by Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +There is a voice, not understood by all, +Sent from these desert-caves. It is the roar +Of the rent ice-cliff which the sunbeams call, +Plunging into the vale—it is the blast +Descending on the pines—the torrents pour... _5 + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: HOME. + +[Published by Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +Dear home, thou scene of earliest hopes and joys, +The least of which wronged Memory ever makes +Bitterer than all thine unremembered tears. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT OF A GHOST STORY. + +[Published by Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +A shovel of his ashes took +From the hearth’s obscurest nook, +Muttering mysteries as she went. +Helen and Henry knew that Granny +Was as much afraid of Ghosts as any, _5 +And so they followed hard— +But Helen clung to her brother’s arm, +And her own spasm made her shake. + +*** + + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1816, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +Shelley wrote little during this year. The poem entitled “The Sunset” +was written in the spring of the year, while still residing at +Bishopsgate. He spent the summer on the shores of the Lake of Geneva. +The “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty” was conceived during his voyage round +the lake with Lord Byron. He occupied himself during this voyage by +reading the “Nouvelle Heloise” for the first time. The reading it on +the very spot where the scenes are laid added to the interest; and he +was at once surprised and charmed by the passionate eloquence and +earnest enthralling interest that pervade this work. There was +something in the character of Saint-Preux, in his abnegation of self, +and in the worship he paid to Love, that coincided with Shelley’s own +disposition; and, though differing in many of the views and shocked by +others, yet the effect of the whole was fascinating and delightful. + +“Mont Blanc” was inspired by a view of that mountain and its +surrounding peaks and valleys, as he lingered on the Bridge of Arve on +his way through the Valley of Chamouni. Shelley makes the following +mention of this poem in his publication of the “History of a Six Weeks’ +Tour, and Letters from Switzerland”: ‘The poem entitled “Mont Blanc” is +written by the author of the two letters from Chamouni and Vevai. It +was composed under the immediate impression of the deep and powerful +feelings excited by the objects which it attempts to describe; and, as +an undisciplined overflowing of the soul, rests its claim to +approbation on an attempt to imitate the untamable wildness and +inaccessible solemnity from which those feelings sprang.’ + +This was an eventful year, and less time was given to study than usual. +In the list of his reading I find, in Greek, Theocritus, the +“Prometheus” of Aeschylus, several of Plutarch’s “Lives”, and the works +of Lucian. In Latin, Lucretius, Pliny’s “Letters”, the “Annals” and +“Germany” of Tacitus. In French, the “History of the French Revolution” +by Lacretelle. He read for the first time, this year, Montaigne’s +“Essays”, and regarded them ever after as one of the most delightful +and instructive books in the world. The list is scanty in English +works: Locke’s “Essay”, “Political Justice”, and Coleridge’s “Lay +Sermon”, form nearly the whole. It was his frequent habit to read aloud +to me in the evening; in this way we read, this year, the New +Testament, “Paradise Lost”, Spenser’s “Faery Queen”, and “Don Quixote”. + +*** + + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1817. + + +MARIANNE’S DREAM. + +[Composed at Marlow, 1817. Published in Hunt’s “Literary Pocket-Book”, +1819, and reprinted in “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, +And said, A boon, a boon, I pray! +I know the secrets of the air, +And things are lost in the glare of day, +Which I can make the sleeping see, _5 +If they will put their trust in me. + +2. +And thou shalt know of things unknown, +If thou wilt let me rest between +The veiny lids, whose fringe is thrown +Over thine eyes so dark and sheen: _10 +And half in hope, and half in fright, +The Lady closed her eyes so bright. + +3. +At first all deadly shapes were driven +Tumultuously across her sleep, +And o’er the vast cope of bending heaven _15 +All ghastly-visaged clouds did sweep; +And the Lady ever looked to spy +If the golden sun shone forth on high. + +4. +And as towards the east she turned, +She saw aloft in the morning air, _20 +Which now with hues of sunrise burned, +A great black Anchor rising there; +And wherever the Lady turned her eyes, +It hung before her in the skies. + +5. +The sky was blue as the summer sea, _25 +The depths were cloudless overhead, +The air was calm as it could be, +There was no sight or sound of dread, +But that black Anchor floating still +Over the piny eastern hill. _30 + +6. +The Lady grew sick with a weight of fear +To see that Anchor ever hanging, +And veiled her eyes; she then did hear +The sound as of a dim low clanging, +And looked abroad if she might know _35 +Was it aught else, or but the flow +Of the blood in her own veins, to and fro. + +7. +There was a mist in the sunless air, +Which shook as it were with an earthquake’s shock, +But the very weeds that blossomed there _40 +Were moveless, and each mighty rock +Stood on its basis steadfastly; +The Anchor was seen no more on high. + +8. +But piled around, with summits hid +In lines of cloud at intervals, _45 +Stood many a mountain pyramid +Among whose everlasting walls +Two mighty cities shone, and ever +Through the red mist their domes did quiver. + +9. +On two dread mountains, from whose crest, _50 +Might seem, the eagle, for her brood, +Would ne’er have hung her dizzy nest, +Those tower-encircled cities stood. +A vision strange such towers to see, +Sculptured and wrought so gorgeously, _55 +Where human art could never be. + +10. +And columns framed of marble white, +And giant fanes, dome over dome +Piled, and triumphant gates, all bright +With workmanship, which could not come _60 +From touch of mortal instrument, +Shot o’er the vales, or lustre lent +From its own shapes magnificent. + +11. +But still the Lady heard that clang +Filling the wide air far away; _65 +And still the mist whose light did hang +Among the mountains shook alway, +So that the Lady’s heart beat fast, +As half in joy, and half aghast, +On those high domes her look she cast. _70 + +12. +Sudden, from out that city sprung +A light that made the earth grow red; +Two flames that each with quivering tongue +Licked its high domes, and overhead +Among those mighty towers and fanes _75 +Dropped fire, as a volcano rains +Its sulphurous ruin on the plains. + +13. +And hark! a rush as if the deep +Had burst its bonds; she looked behind +And saw over the western steep _80 +A raging flood descend, and wind +Through that wide vale; she felt no fear, +But said within herself, ’Tis clear +These towers are Nature’s own, and she +To save them has sent forth the sea. _85 + +14. +And now those raging billows came +Where that fair Lady sate, and she +Was borne towards the showering flame +By the wild waves heaped tumultuously. +And, on a little plank, the flow _90 +Of the whirlpool bore her to and fro. + +15. +The flames were fiercely vomited +From every tower and every dome, +And dreary light did widely shed +O’er that vast flood’s suspended foam, _95 +Beneath the smoke which hung its night +On the stained cope of heaven’s light. + +16. +The plank whereon that Lady sate +Was driven through the chasms, about and about, +Between the peaks so desolate _100 +Of the drowning mountains, in and out, +As the thistle-beard on a whirlwind sails— +While the flood was filling those hollow vales. + +17. +At last her plank an eddy crossed, +And bore her to the city’s wall, _105 +Which now the flood had reached almost; +It might the stoutest heart appal +To hear the fire roar and hiss +Through the domes of those mighty palaces. + +18. +The eddy whirled her round and round _110 +Before a gorgeous gate, which stood +Piercing the clouds of smoke which bound +Its aery arch with light like blood; +She looked on that gate of marble clear, +With wonder that extinguished fear. _115 + +19. +For it was filled with sculptures rarest, +Of forms most beautiful and strange, +Like nothing human, but the fairest +Of winged shapes, whose legions range +Throughout the sleep of those that are, _120 +Like this same Lady, good and fair. + +20. +And as she looked, still lovelier grew +Those marble forms;—the sculptor sure +Was a strong spirit, and the hue +Of his own mind did there endure _125 +After the touch, whose power had braided +Such grace, was in some sad change faded. + +21. +She looked, the flames were dim, the flood +Grew tranquil as a woodland river +Winding through hills in solitude; _130 +Those marble shapes then seemed to quiver, +And their fair limbs to float in motion, +Like weeds unfolding in the ocean. + +22. +And their lips moved; one seemed to speak, +When suddenly the mountains cracked, _135 +And through the chasm the flood did break +With an earth-uplifting cataract: +The statues gave a joyous scream, +And on its wings the pale thin Dream +Lifted the Lady from the stream. _140 + +23. +The dizzy flight of that phantom pale +Waked the fair Lady from her sleep, +And she arose, while from the veil +Of her dark eyes the Dream did creep, +And she walked about as one who knew _145 +That sleep has sights as clear and true +As any waking eyes can view. + +NOTES: +_18 golden 1819; gold 1824, 1839. +_28 or 1824; nor 1839. +_62 or]a cj. Rossetti. +_63 its]their cj. Rossetti. +_92 flames cj. Rossetti; waves 1819, 1824, 1839. +_101 mountains 1819; mountain 1824, 1839. +_106 flood]flames cj. James Thomson (‘B.V.’). +_120 that 1819, 1824; who 1839. +_135 mountains 1819; mountain 1824, 1839. + +*** + + +TO CONSTANTIA, SINGING. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley in “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Amongst the +Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian is a chaotic first draft, from +which Mr. Locock [“Examination”, etc., 1903, pages 60-62] has, with +patient ingenuity, disengaged a first and a second stanza consistent +with the metrical scheme of stanzas 3 and 4. The two stanzas thus +recovered are printed here immediately below the poem as edited by Mrs. +Shelley. It need hardly be added that Mr. Locock’s restored version +cannot, any more than Mrs. Shelley’s obviously imperfect one, be +regarded in the light of a final recension.] + +1. +Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die, +Perchance were death indeed!—Constantia, turn! +In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie, +Even though the sounds which were thy voice, which burn +Between thy lips, are laid to sleep; _5 +Within thy breath, and on thy hair, like odour, it is yet, +And from thy touch like fire doth leap. +Even while I write, my burning cheeks are wet. +Alas, that the torn heart can bleed, but not forget! + +2. +A breathless awe, like the swift change _10 +Unseen, but felt in youthful slumbers, +Wild, sweet, but uncommunicably strange, +Thou breathest now in fast ascending numbers. +The cope of heaven seems rent and cloven +By the enchantment of thy strain, _15 +And on my shoulders wings are woven, +To follow its sublime career +Beyond the mighty moons that wane +Upon the verge of Nature’s utmost sphere, +Till the world’s shadowy walls are past and disappear. _20 + +3. +Her voice is hovering o’er my soul—it lingers +O’ershadowing it with soft and lulling wings, +The blood and life within those snowy fingers +Teach witchcraft to the instrumental strings. +My brain is wild, my breath comes quick— _25 +The blood is listening in my frame, +And thronging shadows, fast and thick, +Fall on my overflowing eyes; +My heart is quivering like a flame; +As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, _30 +I am dissolved in these consuming ecstasies. + +4. +I have no life, Constantia, now, but thee, +Whilst, like the world-surrounding air, thy song +Flows on, and fills all things with melody.— +Now is thy voice a tempest swift and strong, _35 +On which, like one in trance upborne, +Secure o’er rocks and waves I sweep, +Rejoicing like a cloud of morn. +Now ’tis the breath of summer night, +Which when the starry waters sleep, +Round western isles, with incense-blossoms bright, _40 +Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight. + + +STANZAS 1 AND 2. + +As restored by Mr. C.D. Locock. + +1. +Cease, cease—for such wild lessons madmen learn +Thus to be lost, and thus to sink and die +Perchance were death indeed!—Constantia turn +In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie +Even though the sounds its voice that were _5 +Between [thy] lips are laid to sleep: +Within thy breath, and on thy hair +Like odour, it is [lingering] yet +And from thy touch like fire doth leap— +Even while I write, my burning cheeks are wet— _10 +Alas, that the torn heart can bleed but not forget. + +2. +[A deep and] breathless awe like the swift change +Of dreams unseen but felt in youthful slumbers +Wild sweet yet incommunicably strange +Thou breathest now in fast ascending numbers... _15 + +*** + + +TO CONSTANTIA. +[Dated 1817 by Mrs. Shelley, and printed by her in the “Poetical +Works”, 1839, 1st edition. A copy exists amongst the Shelley +manuscripts at the Bodleian. See Mr. C.D. Locock’s “Examination”, etc., +1903, page 46.] + +1. +The rose that drinks the fountain dew +In the pleasant air of noon, +Grows pale and blue with altered hue— +In the gaze of the nightly moon; +For the planet of frost, so cold and bright, _5 +Makes it wan with her borrowed light. + +2. +Such is my heart—roses are fair, +And that at best a withered blossom; +But thy false care did idly wear +Its withered leaves in a faithless bosom; _10 +And fed with love, like air and dew, +Its growth— + +NOTES: +_1 The rose]The red Rose B. +_2 pleasant]fragrant B. +_6 her omitted B. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: TO ONE SINGING. + +[Dated 1817 by Mrs. Shelley, and published in the “Poetical Works”, +1839, 1st edition. The manuscript original, by which Mr. Locock has +revised and (by one line) enlarged the text, is amongst the Shelley +manuscripts at the Bodleian. The metre, as Mr. Locock (“Examination”, +etc., 1903, page 63) points out, is terza rima.] + +My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim +Upon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing, +Far far away into the regions dim + +Of rapture—as a boat, with swift sails winging +Its way adown some many-winding river, _5 +Speeds through dark forests o’er the waters swinging... + +NOTES: +_3 Far far away B.; Far away 1839. +_6 Speeds...swinging B.; omitted 1839. + +*** + + +A FRAGMENT: TO MUSIC. + +[Published in “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition. +Dated 1817 (Mrs. Shelley).] + +Silver key of the fountain of tears, +Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild; +Softest grave of a thousand fears, +Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child, +Is laid asleep in flowers. _5 + +*** + + +ANOTHER FRAGMENT: TO MUSIC. + +[Published in “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition. +Dated 1817 (Mrs. Shelley).] + +No, Music, thou art not the ‘food of Love.’ +Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self, +Till it becomes all Music murmurs of. + +*** + + +‘MIGHTY EAGLE’. + +SUPPOSED TO BE ADDRESSED TO WILLIAM GODWIN. + +[Published in 1882 (“Poetical Works of P. B. S.”) by Mr. H. Buxton +Forman, C.B., by whom it is dated 1817.] + +Mighty eagle! thou that soarest +O’er the misty mountain forest, +And amid the light of morning +Like a cloud of glory hiest, +And when night descends defiest _5 +The embattled tempests’ warning! + +*** + + +TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR. + +[Published in part (5-9, 14) by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, +1st edition (without title); in full 2nd edition (with title). Four +transcripts in Mrs. Shelley’s hand are extant: two—Leigh Hunt’s and +Ch. Cowden Clarke’s—described by Forman, and two belonging to Mr. C.W. +Frederickson of Brooklyn, described by Woodberry [“Poetical Works”, +Centenary Edition, 3 193-6]. One of the latter (here referred to as Fa) +is corrected in Shelley’s autograph. A much-corrected draft in +Shelley’s hand is in the Harvard manuscript book.] + +1. +Thy country’s curse is on thee, darkest crest +Of that foul, knotted, many-headed worm +Which rends our Mother’s bosom—Priestly Pest! +Masked Resurrection of a buried Form! + +2. +Thy country’s curse is on thee! Justice sold, _5 +Truth trampled, Nature’s landmarks overthrown, +And heaps of fraud-accumulated gold, +Plead, loud as thunder, at Destruction’s throne. + +3. +And whilst that sure slow Angel which aye stands +Watching the beck of Mutability _10 +Delays to execute her high commands, +And, though a nation weeps, spares thine and thee, + +4. +Oh, let a father’s curse be on thy soul, +And let a daughter’s hope be on thy tomb; +Be both, on thy gray head, a leaden cowl _15 +To weigh thee down to thine approaching doom. + +5. +I curse thee by a parent’s outraged love, +By hopes long cherished and too lately lost, +By gentle feelings thou couldst never prove, +By griefs which thy stern nature never crossed; _20 + +6. +By those infantine smiles of happy light, +Which were a fire within a stranger’s hearth, +Quenched even when kindled, in untimely night +Hiding the promise of a lovely birth: + +7. +By those unpractised accents of young speech, _25 +Which he who is a father thought to frame +To gentlest lore, such as the wisest teach— +THOU strike the lyre of mind!—oh, grief and shame! + +8. +By all the happy see in children’s growth— +That undeveloped flower of budding years— _30 +Sweetness and sadness interwoven both, +Source of the sweetest hopes and saddest fears- + +9. +By all the days, under an hireling’s care, +Of dull constraint and bitter heaviness,— +O wretched ye if ever any were,— _35 +Sadder than orphans, yet not fatherless! + +10. +By the false cant which on their innocent lips +Must hang like poison on an opening bloom, +By the dark creeds which cover with eclipse +Their pathway from the cradle to the tomb— _40 + +11. +By thy most impious Hell, and all its terror; +By all the grief, the madness, and the guilt +Of thine impostures, which must be their error— +That sand on which thy crumbling power is built— + +12. +By thy complicity with lust and hate— _45 +Thy thirst for tears—thy hunger after gold— +The ready frauds which ever on thee wait— +The servile arts in which thou hast grown old— + +13. +By thy most killing sneer, and by thy smile— +By all the arts and snares of thy black den, _50 +And—for thou canst outweep the crocodile— +By thy false tears—those millstones braining men— + +14. +By all the hate which checks a father’s love— +By all the scorn which kills a father’s care— +By those most impious hands which dared remove _55 +Nature’s high bounds—by thee—and by despair— + +15. +Yes, the despair which bids a father groan, +And cry, ‘My children are no longer mine— +The blood within those veins may be mine own, +But—Tyrant—their polluted souls are thine;— _60 + +16. +I curse thee—though I hate thee not.—O slave! +If thou couldst quench the earth-consuming Hell +Of which thou art a daemon, on thy grave +This curse should be a blessing. Fare thee well! + +NOTES: +_9 Angel which aye cancelled by Shelley for Fate which ever Fa. +_24 promise of a 1839, 2nd edition; promises of 1839, 1st edition. +_27 lore]love Fa. +_32 and saddest]the saddest Fa. +_36 yet not fatherless! cancelled by Shelley for why not fatherless? Fa. +_41-_44 By...built ‘crossed by Shelley and marked dele by Mrs. Shelley’ + (Woodberry) Fa. +_50 arts and snares 1839, 1st edition; + snares and arts Harvard Coll. manuscript; + snares and nets Fa.; + acts and snares 1839, 2nd edition. +_59 those]their Fa. + +*** + + +TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley (1, 5, 6), “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st +edition; in full, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition. A transcript is +extant in Mrs. Shelley’s hand.] + +1. +The billows on the beach are leaping around it, +The bark is weak and frail, +The sea looks black, and the clouds that bound it +Darkly strew the gale. +Come with me, thou delightful child, +Come with me, though the wave is wild, _5 +And the winds are loose, we must not stay, +Or the slaves of the law may rend thee away. + +2. +They have taken thy brother and sister dear, +They have made them unfit for thee; _10 +They have withered the smile and dried the tear +Which should have been sacred to me. +To a blighting faith and a cause of crime +They have bound them slaves in youthly prime, +And they will curse my name and thee _15 +Because we fearless are and free. + +3. +Come thou, beloved as thou art; +Another sleepeth still +Near thy sweet mother’s anxious heart, +Which thou with joy shalt fill, _20 +With fairest smiles of wonder thrown +On that which is indeed our own, +And which in distant lands will be +The dearest playmate unto thee. + +4. +Fear not the tyrants will rule for ever, _25 +Or the priests of the evil faith; +They stand on the brink of that raging river, +Whose waves they have tainted with death. +It is fed from the depth of a thousand dells, +Around them it foams and rages and swells; _30 +And their swords and their sceptres I floating see, +Like wrecks on the surge of eternity. + +5. +Rest, rest, and shriek not, thou gentle child! +The rocking of the boat thou fearest, +And the cold spray and the clamour wild?— _35 +There, sit between us two, thou dearest— +Me and thy mother—well we know +The storm at which thou tremblest so, +With all its dark and hungry graves, +Less cruel than the savage slaves _40 +Who hunt us o’er these sheltering waves. + +6. +This hour will in thy memory +Be a dream of days forgotten long. +We soon shall dwell by the azure sea +Of serene and golden Italy, +Or Greece, the Mother of the free; _45 +And I will teach thine infant tongue +To call upon those heroes old +In their own language, and will mould +Thy growing spirit in the flame +Of Grecian lore, that by such name _50 +A patriot’s birthright thou mayst claim! + +NOTES: +_1 on the beach omitted 1839, 1st edition. +_8 of the law 1839, 1st edition; of law 1839, 2nd edition. +_14 prime transcript; time editions 1839. +_16 fearless are editions 1839; are fearless transcript. +_20 shalt transcript; wilt editions 1839. +_25-_32 Fear...eternity omitted, transcript. + See “Rosalind and Helen”, lines 894-901. +_33 and transcript; omitted editions 1839. +_41 us transcript, 1839, 1st edition; thee 1839, 2nd edition. +_42 will in transcript, 1839, 2nd edition; + will sometime in 1839, 1st edition. +_43 long transcript; omitted editions 1839. +_48 those transcript, 1839, 1st edition; their 1839, 2nd edition. + +*** + + +FROM THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THE POEM TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. + +[Published in Dr. Garnett’s “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +1. +The world is now our dwelling-place; +Where’er the earth one fading trace +Of what was great and free does keep, +That is our home!... +Mild thoughts of man’s ungentle race _5 +Shall our contented exile reap; +For who that in some happy place +His own free thoughts can freely chase +By woods and waves can clothe his face +In cynic smiles? Child! we shall weep. _10 + +2. +This lament, +The memory of thy grievous wrong +Will fade... +But genius is omnipotent +To hallow... _15 + +*** + + +ON FANNY GODWIN. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, among the poems of 1817, in “Poetical +Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +Her voice did quiver as we parted, +Yet knew I not that heart was broken +From which it came, and I departed +Heeding not the words then spoken. +Misery—O Misery, _5 +This world is all too wide for thee. + +*** + + +LINES. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley with the date ‘November 5th, 1817,’ in +“Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +That time is dead for ever, child! +Drowned, frozen, dead for ever! +We look on the past +And stare aghast +At the spectres wailing, pale and ghast, _5 +Of hopes which thou and I beguiled +To death on life’s dark river. + +2. +The stream we gazed on then rolled by; +Its waves are unreturning; +But we yet stand _10 +In a lone land, +Like tombs to mark the memory +Of hopes and fears, which fade and flee +In the light of life’s dim morning. + +*** + + +DEATH. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley in “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +They die—the dead return not—Misery +Sits near an open grave and calls them over, +A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye— +They are the names of kindred, friend and lover, +Which he so feebly calls—they all are gone— _5 +Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone, +This most familiar scene, my pain— +These tombs—alone remain. + +2. +Misery, my sweetest friend—oh, weep no more! +Thou wilt not be consoled—I wonder not! _10 +For I have seen thee from thy dwelling’s door +Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot +Was even as bright and calm, but transitory, +And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary; +This most familiar scene, my pain— _15 +These tombs—alone remain. + +NOTE: +_5 calls editions 1839; called 1824. + +*** + + +OTHO. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +1. +Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be, +Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim +From Brutus his own glory—and on thee +Rests the full splendour of his sacred fame: +Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant quail _5 +Amid his cowering senate with thy name, +Though thou and he were great—it will avail +To thine own fame that Otho’s should not fail. + +2. +‘Twill wrong thee not—thou wouldst, if thou couldst feel, +Abjure such envious fame—great Otho died _10 +Like thee—he sanctified his country’s steel, +At once the tyrant and tyrannicide, +In his own blood—a deed it was to bring +Tears from all men—though full of gentle pride, +Such pride as from impetuous love may spring, _15 +That will not be refused its offering. + +NOTE: +_13 bring cj. Garnett; buy 1839, 1st edition; wring cj. Rossetti. + +*** + + +FRAGMENTS SUPPOSED TO BE PARTS OF OTHO. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862,—where, however, +only the fragment numbered 2 is assigned to “Otho”. Forman (1876) +connects all three fragments with that projected poem.] + +1. +Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil, +Nor custom, queen of many slaves, makes blind, +Have ever grieved that man should be the spoil +Of his own weakness, and with earnest mind +Fed hopes of its redemption; these recur _5 +Chastened by deathful victory now, and find +Foundations in this foulest age, and stir +Me whom they cheer to be their minister. + +2. +Dark is the realm of grief: but human things +Those may not know who cannot weep for them. _10 + +... + +3. +Once more descend +The shadows of my soul upon mankind, +For to those hearts with which they never blend, +Thoughts are but shadows which the flashing mind +From the swift clouds which track its flight of fire, _15 +Casts on the gloomy world it leaves behind. + +... + +*** + + +‘O THAT A CHARIOT OF CLOUD WERE MINE’. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +O that a chariot of cloud were mine! +Of cloud which the wild tempest weaves in air, +When the moon over the ocean’s line +Is spreading the locks of her bright gray hair. +O that a chariot of cloud were mine! _5 +I would sail on the waves of the billowy wind +To the mountain peak and the rocky lake, +And the... + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: TO A FRIEND RELEASED FROM PRISON. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble +In my faint eyes, and that my heart beat fast +With feelings which make rapture pain resemble, +Yet, from thy voice that falsehood starts aghast, +I thank thee—let the tyrant keep _5 +His chains and tears, yea, let him weep +With rage to see thee freshly risen, +Like strength from slumber, from the prison, +In which he vainly hoped the soul to bind +Which on the chains must prey that fetter humankind. _10 + +NOTE: +For the metre see Fragment: “A Gentle Story” (A.C. Bradley.) + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: SATAN BROKEN LOOSE. + +[Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.] + +A golden-winged Angel stood +Before the Eternal Judgement-seat: +His looks were wild, and Devils’ blood +Stained his dainty hands and feet. +The Father and the Son _5 +Knew that strife was now begun. +They knew that Satan had broken his chain, +And with millions of daemons in his train, +Was ranging over the world again. +Before the Angel had told his tale, _10 +A sweet and a creeping sound +Like the rushing of wings was heard around; +And suddenly the lamps grew pale— +The lamps, before the Archangels seven, +That burn continually in Heaven. _15 + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: “IGNICULUS DESIDERII”. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition. This +fragment is amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian. See Mr. +C.D. Locock’s “Examination”, etc., 1903, page 63.] + +To thirst and find no fill—to wail and wander +With short unsteady steps—to pause and ponder— +To feel the blood run through the veins and tingle +Where busy thought and blind sensation mingle; +To nurse the image of unfelt caresses _5 +Till dim imagination just possesses +The half-created shadow, then all the night +Sick... + +NOTES: +_2 unsteady B.; uneasy 1839, 1st edition. +_7, _8 then...Sick B.; wanting, 1839, 1st edition. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: “AMOR AETERNUS”. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +Wealth and dominion fade into the mass +Of the great sea of human right and wrong, +When once from our possession they must pass; +But love, though misdirected, is among +The things which are immortal, and surpass _5 +All that frail stuff which will be—or which was. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: THOUGHTS COME AND GO IN SOLITUDE. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +My thoughts arise and fade in solitude, +The verse that would invest them melts away +Like moonlight in the heaven of spreading day: +How beautiful they were, how firm they stood, +Flecking the starry sky like woven pearl! _5 + +*** + + +A HATE-SONG. + +[Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.] + +A hater he came and sat by a ditch, +And he took an old cracked lute; +And he sang a song which was more of a screech +’Gainst a woman that was a brute. + +*** + + +LINES TO A CRITIC. + +[Published by Hunt in “The Liberal”, No. 3, 1823. Reprinted in +“Posthumous Poems”, 1824, where it is dated December, 1817.] + +1. +Honey from silkworms who can gather, +Or silk from the yellow bee? +The grass may grow in winter weather +As soon as hate in me. + +2. +Hate men who cant, and men who pray, _5 +And men who rail like thee; +An equal passion to repay +They are not coy like me. + +3. +Or seek some slave of power and gold +To be thy dear heart’s mate; _10 +Thy love will move that bigot cold +Sooner than me, thy hate. + +4. +A passion like the one I prove +Cannot divided be; +I hate thy want of truth and love— _15 +How should I then hate thee? + +*** + + +OZYMANDIAS. + +[Published by Hunt in “The Examiner”, January, 1818. Reprinted with +“Rosalind and Helen”, 1819. There is a copy amongst the Shelley +manuscripts at the Bodleian Library. See Mr. C.D. Locock’s +“Examination”, etc., 1903, page 46.] + +I met a traveller from an antique land +Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone +Stand in the desert...Near them, on the sand, +Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, +And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, _5 +Tell that its sculptor well those passions read +Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, +The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: +And on the pedestal these words appear: +‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: _10 +Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’ +Nothing beside remains. Round the decay +Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare +The lone and level sands stretch far away. + +NOTE: +_9 these words appear]this legend clear B. + +*** + + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1817, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +The very illness that oppressed, and the aspect of death which had +approached so near Shelley, appear to have kindled to yet keener life +the Spirit of Poetry in his heart. The restless thoughts kept awake by +pain clothed themselves in verse. Much was composed during this year. +The “Revolt of Islam”, written and printed, was a great +effort—“Rosalind and Helen” was begun—and the fragments and poems I +can trace to the same period show how full of passion and reflection +were his solitary hours. + +In addition to such poems as have an intelligible aim and shape, many a +stray idea and transitory emotion found imperfect and abrupt +expression, and then again lost themselves in silence. As he never +wandered without a book and without implements of writing, I find many +such, in his manuscript books, that scarcely bear record; while some of +them, broken and vague as they are, will appear valuable to those who +love Shelley’s mind, and desire to trace its workings. + +He projected also translating the “Hymns” of Homer; his version of +several of the shorter ones remains, as well as that to Mercury already +published in the “Posthumous Poems”. His readings this year were +chiefly Greek. Besides the “Hymns” of Homer and the “Iliad”, he read +the dramas of Aeschylus and Sophocles, the “Symposium” of Plato, and +Arrian’s “Historia Indica”. In Latin, Apuleius alone is named. In +English, the Bible was his constant study; he read a great portion of +it aloud in the evening. Among these evening readings I find also +mentioned the “Faerie Queen”; and other modern works, the production of +his contemporaries, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Moore and Byron. + +His life was now spent more in thought than action—he had lost the +eager spirit which believed it could achieve what it projected for the +benefit of mankind. And yet in the converse of daily life Shelley was +far from being a melancholy man. He was eloquent when philosophy or +politics or taste were the subjects of conversation. He was playful; +and indulged in the wild spirit that mocked itself and others—not in +bitterness, but in sport. The author of “Nightmare Abbey” seized on +some points of his character and some habits of his life when he +painted Scythrop. He was not addicted to ‘port or madeira,’ but in +youth he had read of ‘Illuminati and Eleutherarchs,’ and believed that +he possessed the power of operating an immediate change in the minds of +men and the state of society. These wild dreams had faded; sorrow and +adversity had struck home; but he struggled with despondency as he did +with physical pain. There are few who remember him sailing paper boats, +and watching the navigation of his tiny craft with eagerness—or +repeating with wild energy “The Ancient Mariner”, and Southey’s “Old +Woman of Berkeley”; but those who do will recollect that it was in +such, and in the creations of his own fancy when that was most daring +and ideal, that he sheltered himself from the storms and +disappointments, the pain and sorrow, that beset his life. + +No words can express the anguish he felt when his elder children were +torn from him. In his first resentment against the Chancellor, on the +passing of the decree, he had written a curse, in which there breathes, +besides haughty indignation, all the tenderness of a father’s love, +which could imagine and fondly dwell upon its loss and the +consequences. + +At one time, while the question was still pending, the Chancellor had +said some words that seemed to intimate that Shelley should not be +permitted the care of any of his children, and for a moment he feared +that our infant son would be torn from us. He did not hesitate to +resolve, if such were menaced, to abandon country, fortune, everything, +and to escape with his child; and I find some unfinished stanzas +addressed to this son, whom afterwards we lost at Rome, written under +the idea that we might suddenly be forced to cross the sea, so to +preserve him. This poem, as well as the one previously quoted, were not +written to exhibit the pangs of distress to the public; they were the +spontaneous outbursts of a man who brooded over his wrongs and woes, +and was impelled to shed the grace of his genius over the +uncontrollable emotions of his heart. I ought to observe that the +fourth verse of this effusion is introduced in “Rosalind and Helen”. +When afterwards this child died at Rome, he wrote, a propos of the +English burying-ground in that city: ‘This spot is the repository of a +sacred loss, of which the yearnings of a parent’s heart are now +prophetic; he is rendered immortal by love, as his memory is by death. +My beloved child lies buried here. I envy death the body far less than +the oppressors the minds of those whom they have torn from me. The one +can only kill the body, the other crushes the affections.’ + +*** + + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1818. + + +TO THE NILE. + +[‘Found by Mr. Townshend Meyer among the papers of Leigh Hunt, [and] +published in the “St. James’s Magazine” for March, 1876.’ (Mr. H. +Buxton Forman, C.B.; “Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, Library Edition, +1876, volume 3 page 410.) First included among Shelley’s poetical works +in Mr. Forman’s Library Edition, where a facsimile of the manuscript is +given. Composed February 4, 1818. See “Complete Works of John Keats”, +edition H. Buxton Forman, Glasgow, 1901, volume 4 page 76.] + +Month after month the gathered rains descend +Drenching yon secret Aethiopian dells, +And from the desert’s ice-girt pinnacles +Where Frost and Heat in strange embraces blend +On Atlas, fields of moist snow half depend. _5 +Girt there with blasts and meteors Tempest dwells +By Nile’s aereal urn, with rapid spells +Urging those waters to their mighty end. +O’er Egypt’s land of Memory floods are level +And they are thine, O Nile—and well thou knowest _10 +That soul-sustaining airs and blasts of evil +And fruits and poisons spring where’er thou flowest. +Beware, O Man—for knowledge must to thee, +Like the great flood to Egypt, ever be. + +*** + + +PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES. + +[Composed May 4, 1818. Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, +1824. There is a copy amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian +Library, which supplies the last word of the fragment.] + +Listen, listen, Mary mine, +To the whisper of the Apennine, +It bursts on the roof like the thunder’s roar, +Or like the sea on a northern shore, +Heard in its raging ebb and flow _5 +By the captives pent in the cave below. +The Apennine in the light of day +Is a mighty mountain dim and gray, +Which between the earth and sky doth lay; +But when night comes, a chaos dread _10 +On the dim starlight then is spread, +And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm, +Shrouding... + +*** + + +THE PAST. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +Wilt thou forget the happy hours +Which we buried in Love’s sweet bowers, +Heaping over their corpses cold +Blossoms and leaves, instead of mould? +Blossoms which were the joys that fell, _5 +And leaves, the hopes that yet remain. + +2. +Forget the dead, the past? Oh, yet +There are ghosts that may take revenge for it, +Memories that make the heart a tomb, +Regrets which glide through the spirit’s gloom, _10 +And with ghastly whispers tell +That joy, once lost, is pain. + +*** + + +TO MARY —. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +O Mary dear, that you were here +With your brown eyes bright and clear. +And your sweet voice, like a bird +Singing love to its lone mate +In the ivy bower disconsolate; _5 +Voice the sweetest ever heard! +And your brow more... +Than the ... sky +Of this azure Italy. +Mary dear, come to me soon, _10 +I am not well whilst thou art far; +As sunset to the sphered moon, +As twilight to the western star, +Thou, beloved, art to me. + +O Mary dear, that you were here; _15 +The Castle echo whispers ‘Here!’ + +*** + + +ON A FADED VIOLET. + +[Published by Hunt, “Literary Pocket-Book”, 1821. Reprinted by Mrs. +Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Again reprinted, with several +variants, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition. Our text is that of the +editio princeps, 1821. A transcript is extant in a letter from Shelley +to Sophia Stacey, dated March 7, 1820.] + +1. +The odour from the flower is gone +Which like thy kisses breathed on me; +The colour from the flower is flown +Which glowed of thee and only thee! + +2. +A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form, _5 +It lies on my abandoned breast, +And mocks the heart which yet is warm, +With cold and silent rest. + +3. +I weep,—my tears revive it not! +I sigh,—it breathes no more on me; _10 +Its mute and uncomplaining lot +Is such as mine should be. + +NOTES: +_1 odour]colour 1839. +_2 kisses breathed]sweet eyes smiled 1839. +_3 colour]odour 1839. +_4 glowed]breathed 1839. +_5 shrivelled]withered 1839. +_8 cold and silent all editions; its cold, silent Stacey manuscript. + +*** + + +LINES WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS. + +OCTOBER, 1818. + +[Composed at Este, October, 1818. Published with “Rosalind and Helen”, +1819. Amongst the late Mr. Fredk. Locker-Lampson’s collections at +Rowfant there is a manuscript of the lines (167-205) on Byron, +interpolated after the completion of the poem.] + +Many a green isle needs must be +In the deep wide sea of Misery, +Or the mariner, worn and wan, +Never thus could voyage on— +Day and night, and night and day, _5 +Drifting on his dreary way, +With the solid darkness black +Closing round his vessel’s track: +Whilst above the sunless sky, +Big with clouds, hangs heavily, _10 +And behind the tempest fleet +Hurries on with lightning feet, +Riving sail, and cord, and plank, +Till the ship has almost drank +Death from the o’er-brimming deep; _15 +And sinks down, down, like that sleep +When the dreamer seems to be +Weltering through eternity; +And the dim low line before +Of a dark and distant shore _20 +Still recedes, as ever still +Longing with divided will, +But no power to seek or shun, +He is ever drifted on +O’er the unreposing wave _25 +To the haven of the grave. +What, if there no friends will greet; +What, if there no heart will meet +His with love’s impatient beat; +Wander wheresoe’er he may, _30 +Can he dream before that day +To find refuge from distress +In friendship’s smile, in love’s caress? +Then ‘twill wreak him little woe +Whether such there be or no: _35 +Senseless is the breast, and cold, +Which relenting love would fold; +Bloodless are the veins and chill +Which the pulse of pain did fill; +Every little living nerve _40 +That from bitter words did swerve +Round the tortured lips and brow, +Are like sapless leaflets now +Frozen upon December’s bough. + +On the beach of a northern sea _45 +Which tempests shake eternally, +As once the wretch there lay to sleep, +Lies a solitary heap, +One white skull and seven dry bones, +On the margin of the stones, _50 +Where a few gray rushes stand, +Boundaries of the sea and land: +Nor is heard one voice of wail +But the sea-mews, as they sail +O’er the billows of the gale; _55 +Or the whirlwind up and down +Howling, like a slaughtered town, +When a king in glory rides +Through the pomp of fratricides: +Those unburied bones around _60 +There is many a mournful sound; +There is no lament for him, +Like a sunless vapour, dim, +Who once clothed with life and thought +What now moves nor murmurs not. _65 + +Ay, many flowering islands lie +In the waters of wide Agony: +To such a one this morn was led, +My bark by soft winds piloted: +‘Mid the mountains Euganean _70 +I stood listening to the paean +With which the legioned rooks did hail +The sun’s uprise majestical; +Gathering round with wings all hoar, +Through the dewy mist they soar _75 +Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven +Bursts, and then, as clouds of even, +Flecked with fire and azure, lie +In the unfathomable sky, +So their plumes of purple grain, _80 +Starred with drops of golden rain, +Gleam above the sunlight woods, +As in silent multitudes +On the morning’s fitful gale +Through the broken mist they sail, _85 +And the vapours cloven and gleaming +Follow, down the dark steep streaming, +Till all is bright, and clear, and still, +Round the solitary hill. + +Beneath is spread like a green sea _90 +The waveless plain of Lombardy, +Bounded by the vaporous air, +Islanded by cities fair; +Underneath Day’s azure eyes +Ocean’s nursling, Venice lies, _95 +A peopled labyrinth of walls, +Amphitrite’s destined halls, +Which her hoary sire now paves +With his blue and beaming waves. +Lo! the sun upsprings behind, _100 +Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined +On the level quivering line +Of the waters crystalline; +And before that chasm of light, +As within a furnace bright, _105 +Column, tower, and dome, and spire, +Shine like obelisks of fire, +Pointing with inconstant motion +From the altar of dark ocean +To the sapphire-tinted skies; _110 +As the flames of sacrifice +From the marble shrines did rise, +As to pierce the dome of gold +Where Apollo spoke of old. + +Sun-girt City, thou hast been _115 +Ocean’s child, and then his queen; +Now is come a darker day, +And thou soon must be his prey, +If the power that raised thee here +Hallow so thy watery bier. _120 +A less drear ruin then than now, +With thy conquest-branded brow +Stooping to the slave of slaves +From thy throne, among the waves +Wilt thou be, when the sea-mew _125 +Flies, as once before it flew, +O’er thine isles depopulate, +And all is in its ancient state, +Save where many a palace gate _130 +With green sea-flowers overgrown +Like a rock of Ocean’s own, +Topples o’er the abandoned sea +As the tides change sullenly. +The fisher on his watery way, +Wandering at the close of day, _135 +Will spread his sail and seize his oar +Till he pass the gloomy shore, +Lest thy dead should, from their sleep +Bursting o’er the starlight deep, +Lead a rapid masque of death _140 +O’er the waters of his path. + +Those who alone thy towers behold +Quivering through aereal gold, +As I now behold them here, +Would imagine not they were _145 +Sepulchres, where human forms, +Like pollution-nourished worms, +To the corpse of greatness cling, +Murdered, and now mouldering: +But if Freedom should awake _150 +In her omnipotence, and shake +From the Celtic Anarch’s hold +All the keys of dungeons cold, +Where a hundred cities lie +Chained like thee, ingloriously, _155 +Thou and all thy sister band +Might adorn this sunny land, +Twining memories of old time +With new virtues more sublime; +If not, perish thou and they!— _160 +Clouds which stain truth’s rising day +By her sun consumed away— +Earth can spare ye: while like flowers, +In the waste of years and hours, +From your dust new nations spring _165 +With more kindly blossoming. + +Perish—let there only be +Floating o’er thy hearthless sea +As the garment of thy sky +Clothes the world immortally, _170 +One remembrance, more sublime +Than the tattered pall of time, +Which scarce hides thy visage wan;— +That a tempest-cleaving Swan +Of the songs of Albion, _175 +Driven from his ancestral streams +By the might of evil dreams, +Found a nest in thee; and Ocean +Welcomed him with such emotion +That its joy grew his, and sprung _180 +From his lips like music flung +O’er a mighty thunder-fit, +Chastening terror:—what though yet +Poesy’s unfailing River, +Which through Albion winds forever _185 +Lashing with melodious wave +Many a sacred Poet’s grave, +Mourn its latest nursling fled? +What though thou with all thy dead +Scarce can for this fame repay _190 +Aught thine own? oh, rather say +Though thy sins and slaveries foul +Overcloud a sunlike soul? +As the ghost of Homer clings +Round Scamander’s wasting springs; _195 +As divinest Shakespeare’s might +Fills Avon and the world with light +Like omniscient power which he +Imaged ‘mid mortality; +As the love from Petrarch’s urn, _200 +Yet amid yon hills doth burn, +A quenchless lamp by which the heart +Sees things unearthly;—so thou art, +Mighty spirit—so shall be +The City that did refuge thee. _205 + +Lo, the sun floats up the sky +Like thought-winged Liberty, +Till the universal light +Seems to level plain and height; +From the sea a mist has spread, _210 +And the beams of morn lie dead +On the towers of Venice now, +Like its glory long ago. +By the skirts of that gray cloud +Many-domed Padua proud _215 +Stands, a peopled solitude, +‘Mid the harvest-shining plain, +Where the peasant heaps his grain +In the garner of his foe, +And the milk-white oxen slow _220 +With the purple vintage strain, +Heaped upon the creaking wain, +That the brutal Celt may swill +Drunken sleep with savage will; +And the sickle to the sword _225 +Lies unchanged, though many a lord, +Like a weed whose shade is poison, +Overgrows this region’s foison, +Sheaves of whom are ripe to come +To destruction’s harvest-home: _230 +Men must reap the things they sow, +Force from force must ever flow, +Or worse; but ’tis a bitter woe +That love or reason cannot change +The despot’s rage, the slave’s revenge. _235 + +Padua, thou within whose walls +Those mute guests at festivals, +Son and Mother, Death and Sin, +Played at dice for Ezzelin, +Till Death cried, “I win, I win!” _240 +And Sin cursed to lose the wager, +But Death promised, to assuage her, +That he would petition for +Her to be made Vice-Emperor, +When the destined years were o’er, _245 +Over all between the Po +And the eastern Alpine snow, +Under the mighty Austrian. +Sin smiled so as Sin only can, +And since that time, ay, long before, _250 +Both have ruled from shore to shore,— +That incestuous pair, who follow +Tyrants as the sun the swallow, +As Repentance follows Crime, +And as changes follow Time. _255 + +In thine halls the lamp of learning, +Padua, now no more is burning; +Like a meteor, whose wild way +Is lost over the grave of day, +It gleams betrayed and to betray: _260 +Once remotest nations came +To adore that sacred flame, +When it lit not many a hearth +On this cold and gloomy earth: +Now new fires from antique light _265 +Spring beneath the wide world’s might; +But their spark lies dead in thee, +Trampled out by Tyranny. +As the Norway woodman quells, +In the depth of piny dells, _270 +One light flame among the brakes, +While the boundless forest shakes, +And its mighty trunks are torn +By the fire thus lowly born: +The spark beneath his feet is dead, _275 +He starts to see the flames it fed +Howling through the darkened sky +With a myriad tongues victoriously, +And sinks down in fear: so thou, +O Tyranny, beholdest now _280 +Light around thee, and thou hearest +The loud flames ascend, and fearest: +Grovel on the earth; ay, hide +In the dust thy purple pride! + +Noon descends around me now: _285 +’Tis the noon of autumn’s glow, +When a soft and purple mist +Like a vaporous amethyst, +Or an air-dissolved star +Mingling light and fragrance, far _290 +From the curved horizon’s bound +To the point of Heaven’s profound, +Fills the overflowing sky; +And the plains that silent lie +Underneath, the leaves unsodden _295 +Where the infant Frost has trodden +With his morning-winged feet, +Whose bright print is gleaming yet; +And the red and golden vines, +Piercing with their trellised lines _300 +The rough, dark-skirted wilderness; +The dun and bladed grass no less, +Pointing from this hoary tower +In the windless air; the flower +Glimmering at my feet; the line _305 +Of the olive-sandalled Apennine +In the south dimly islanded; +And the Alps, whose snows are spread +High between the clouds and sun; +And of living things each one; _310 +And my spirit which so long +Darkened this swift stream of song,— +Interpenetrated lie +By the glory of the sky: +Be it love, light, harmony, _315 +Odour, or the soul of all +Which from Heaven like dew doth fall, +Or the mind which feeds this verse +Peopling the lone universe. + +Noon descends, and after noon _320 +Autumn’s evening meets me soon, +Leading the infantine moon, +And that one star, which to her +Almost seems to minister +Half the crimson light she brings _325 +From the sunset’s radiant springs: +And the soft dreams of the morn +(Which like winged winds had borne +To that silent isle, which lies +Mid remembered agonies, _330 +The frail bark of this lone being) +Pass, to other sufferers fleeing, +And its ancient pilot, Pain, +Sits beside the helm again. + +Other flowering isles must be _335 +In the sea of Life and Agony: +Other spirits float and flee +O’er that gulf: even now, perhaps, +On some rock the wild wave wraps, +With folded wings they waiting sit _340 +For my bark, to pilot it +To some calm and blooming cove, +Where for me, and those I love, +May a windless bower be built, +Far from passion, pain, and guilt, _345 +In a dell mid lawny hills, +Which the wild sea-murmur fills, +And soft sunshine, and the sound +Of old forests echoing round, +And the light and smell divine _350 +Of all flowers that breathe and shine: +We may live so happy there, +That the Spirits of the Air, +Envying us, may even entice +To our healing Paradise _355 +The polluting multitude; +But their rage would be subdued +By that clime divine and calm, +And the winds whose wings rain balm +On the uplifted soul, and leaves _360 +Under which the bright sea heaves; +While each breathless interval +In their whisperings musical +The inspired soul supplies +With its own deep melodies; _365 +And the love which heals all strife +Circling, like the breath of life, +All things in that sweet abode +With its own mild brotherhood, +They, not it, would change; and soon _370 +Every sprite beneath the moon +Would repent its envy vain, +And the earth grow young again. + +NOTES: +_54 seamews 1819; seamew’s Rossetti. +_115 Sun-girt]Sea-girt cj. Palgrave. +_165 From your dust new 1819; + From thy dust shall Rowfant manuscript (heading of lines 167-205). +_175 songs 1819; sons cj. Forman. +_278 a 1819; wanting, 1839. + +*** + + +SCENE FROM ‘TASSO’. + +[Composed, 1818. Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +MADDALO, A COURTIER. +MALPIGLIO, A POET. +PIGNA, A MINISTER. +ALBANO, AN USHER. + +MADDALO: +No access to the Duke! You have not said +That the Count Maddalo would speak with him? + +PIGNA: +Did you inform his Grace that Signor Pigna +Waits with state papers for his signature? + +MALPIGLIO: +The Lady Leonora cannot know _5 +That I have written a sonnet to her fame, +In which I ... Venus and Adonis. +You should not take my gold and serve me not. + +ALBANO: +In truth I told her, and she smiled and said, +‘If I am Venus, thou, coy Poesy, _10 +Art the Adonis whom I love, and he +The Erymanthian boar that wounded him.’ +O trust to me, Signor Malpiglio, +Those nods and smiles were favours worth the zechin. + +MALPIGLIO: +The words are twisted in some double sense _15 +That I reach not: the smiles fell not on me. + +PIGNA: +How are the Duke and Duchess occupied? + +ALBANO: +Buried in some strange talk. The Duke was leaning, +His finger on his brow, his lips unclosed. +The Princess sate within the window-seat, _20 +And so her face was hid; but on her knee +Her hands were clasped, veined, and pale as snow, +And quivering—young Tasso, too, was there. + +MADDALO: +Thou seest on whom from thine own worshipped heaven +Thou drawest down smiles—they did not rain on thee. _25 + +MALPIGLIO: +Would they were parching lightnings for his sake +On whom they fell! + +*** + + +SONG FOR ‘TASSO’. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +I loved—alas! our life is love; +But when we cease to breathe and move +I do suppose love ceases too. +I thought, but not as now I do, +Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore, _5 +Of all that men had thought before. +And all that Nature shows, and more. + +2. +And still I love and still I think, +But strangely, for my heart can drink +The dregs of such despair, and live, _10 +And love;... +And if I think, my thoughts come fast, +I mix the present with the past, +And each seems uglier than the last. + +3. +Sometimes I see before me flee _15 +A silver spirit’s form, like thee, +O Leonora, and I sit +...still watching it, +Till by the grated casement’s ledge +It fades, with such a sigh, as sedge _20 +Breathes o’er the breezy streamlet’s edge. + +*** + + +INVOCATION TO MISERY. + +[Published by Medwin, “The Athenaeum”, September 8, 1832. Reprinted (as +“Misery, a Fragment”) by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st +edition. Our text is that of 1839. A pencil copy of this poem is +amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian Library. See Mr. C.D. +Locock’s “Examination”, etc., 1903, page 38. The readings of this copy +are indicated by the letter B. in the footnotes.] + +1. +Come, be happy!—sit near me, +Shadow-vested Misery: +Coy, unwilling, silent bride, +Mourning in thy robe of pride, +Desolation—deified! _5 + +2. +Come, be happy!—sit near me: +Sad as I may seem to thee, +I am happier far than thou, +Lady, whose imperial brow +Is endiademed with woe. _10 + +3. +Misery! we have known each other, +Like a sister and a brother +Living in the same lone home, +Many years—we must live some +Hours or ages yet to come. _15 + +4. +’Tis an evil lot, and yet +Let us make the best of it; +If love can live when pleasure dies, +We two will love, till in our eyes +This heart’s Hell seem Paradise. _20 + +5. +Come, be happy!—lie thee down +On the fresh grass newly mown, +Where the Grasshopper doth sing +Merrily—one joyous thing +In a world of sorrowing! _25 + +6. +There our tent shall be the willow, +And mine arm shall be thy pillow; +Sounds and odours, sorrowful +Because they once were sweet, shall lull +Us to slumber, deep and dull. _30 + +7. +Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter +With a love thou darest not utter. +Thou art murmuring—thou art weeping— +Is thine icy bosom leaping +While my burning heart lies sleeping? _35 + +8. +Kiss me;—oh! thy lips are cold: +Round my neck thine arms enfold— +They are soft, but chill and dead; +And thy tears upon my head +Burn like points of frozen lead. _40 + +9. +Hasten to the bridal bed— +Underneath the grave ’tis spread: +In darkness may our love be hid, +Oblivion be our coverlid— +We may rest, and none forbid. _45 + +10. +Clasp me till our hearts be grown +Like two shadows into one; +Till this dreadful transport may +Like a vapour fade away, +In the sleep that lasts alway. _50 + +11. +We may dream, in that long sleep, +That we are not those who weep; +E’en as Pleasure dreams of thee, +Life-deserting Misery, +Thou mayst dream of her with me. _55 + +12. +Let us laugh, and make our mirth, +At the shadows of the earth, +As dogs bay the moonlight clouds, +Which, like spectres wrapped in shrouds, +Pass o’er night in multitudes. _60 + +13. +All the wide world, beside us, +Show like multitudinous +Puppets passing from a scene; +What but mockery can they mean, +Where I am—where thou hast been? _65 + +NOTES: +_1 near B., 1839; by 1832. +_8 happier far]merrier yet B. +_15 Hours or]Years and 1832. +_17 best]most 1832. +_19 We two will]We will 1832. +_27 mine arm shall be thy B., 1839; thine arm shall be my 1832. +_33 represented by asterisks, 1832. +_34, _35 Thou art murmuring, thou art weeping, + Whilst my burning bosom’s leaping 1832; + Was thine icy bosom leaping + While my burning heart was sleeping B. +_40 frozen 1832, 1839, B.; molten cj. Forman. +_44 be]is B. +_47 shadows]lovers 1832, B. +_59 which B., 1839; that 1832. +_62 Show]Are 1832, B. +_63 Puppets passing]Shadows shifting 1832; Shadows passing B. +_64, _65 So B.: What but mockery may they mean? + Where am I?—Where thou hast been 1832. + +*** + + +STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION, NEAR NAPLES. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, where it is dated +‘December, 1818.’ A draft of stanza 1 is amongst the Boscombe +manuscripts. (Garnett).] + +1. +The sun is warm, the sky is clear, +The waves are dancing fast and bright, +Blue isles and snowy mountains wear +The purple noon’s transparent might, +The breath of the moist earth is light, _5 +Around its unexpanded buds; +Like many a voice of one delight, +The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, +The City’s voice itself, is soft like Solitude’s. + +2. +I see the Deep’s untrampled floor _10 +With green and purple seaweeds strown; +I see the waves upon the shore, +Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown: +I sit upon the sands alone,— +The lightning of the noontide ocean _15 +Is flashing round me, and a tone +Arises from its measured motion, +How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. + +3. +Alas! I have nor hope nor health, +Nor peace within nor calm around, _20 +Nor that content surpassing wealth +The sage in meditation found, +And walked with inward glory crowned— +Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. +Others I see whom these surround— _25 +Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;— +To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. + +4. +Yet now despair itself is mild, +Even as the winds and waters are; +I could lie down like a tired child, _30 +And weep away the life of care +Which I have borne and yet must bear, +Till death like sleep might steal on me, +And I might feel in the warm air +My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea _35 +Breathe o’er my dying brain its last monotony. + +5. +Some might lament that I were cold, +As I, when this sweet day is gone, +Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, +Insults with this untimely moan; _40 +They might lament—for I am one +Whom men love not,—and yet regret, +Unlike this day, which, when the sun +Shall on its stainless glory set, +Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. _45 + +NOTES: +_4 might Boscombe manuscript, Medwin 1847; light 1824, 1839. +_5 The...light Boscombe manuscript, 1839, Medwin 1847; + omitted, 1824. moist earth Boscombe manuscript; + moist air 1839; west wind Medwin 1847. +_17 measured 1824; mingled 1847. +_18 did any heart now 1824; if any heart could Medwin 1847. +_31 the 1824; this Medwin 1847. +_36 dying 1824; outworn Medwin 1847. + +*** + + +THE WOODMAN AND THE NIGHTINGALE. + +[Published in part (1-67) by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824; +the remainder (68-70) by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +A woodman whose rough heart was out of tune +(I think such hearts yet never came to good) +Hated to hear, under the stars or moon, + +One nightingale in an interfluous wood +Satiate the hungry dark with melody;— _5 +And as a vale is watered by a flood, + +Or as the moonlight fills the open sky +Struggling with darkness—as a tuberose +Peoples some Indian dell with scents which lie + +Like clouds above the flower from which they rose, _10 +The singing of that happy nightingale +In this sweet forest, from the golden close + +Of evening till the star of dawn may fail, +Was interfused upon the silentness; +The folded roses and the violets pale _15 + +Heard her within their slumbers, the abyss +Of heaven with all its planets; the dull ear +Of the night-cradled earth; the loneliness + +Of the circumfluous waters,—every sphere +And every flower and beam and cloud and wave, _20 +And every wind of the mute atmosphere, + +And every beast stretched in its rugged cave, +And every bird lulled on its mossy bough, +And every silver moth fresh from the grave + +Which is its cradle—ever from below _25 +Aspiring like one who loves too fair, too far, +To be consumed within the purest glow + +Of one serene and unapproached star, +As if it were a lamp of earthly light, +Unconscious, as some human lovers are, _30 + +Itself how low, how high beyond all height +The heaven where it would perish!—and every form +That worshipped in the temple of the night + +Was awed into delight, and by the charm +Girt as with an interminable zone, _35 +Whilst that sweet bird, whose music was a storm + +Of sound, shook forth the dull oblivion +Out of their dreams; harmony became love +In every soul but one. + +... + +And so this man returned with axe and saw _40 +At evening close from killing the tall treen, +The soul of whom by Nature’s gentle law + +Was each a wood-nymph, and kept ever green +The pavement and the roof of the wild copse, +Chequering the sunlight of the blue serene _45 + +With jagged leaves,—and from the forest tops +Singing the winds to sleep—or weeping oft +Fast showers of aereal water-drops + +Into their mother’s bosom, sweet and soft, +Nature’s pure tears which have no bitterness;— _50 +Around the cradles of the birds aloft + +They spread themselves into the loveliness +Of fan-like leaves, and over pallid flowers +Hang like moist clouds:—or, where high branches kiss, + +Make a green space among the silent bowers, _55 +Like a vast fane in a metropolis, +Surrounded by the columns and the towers + +All overwrought with branch-like traceries +In which there is religion—and the mute +Persuasion of unkindled melodies, _60 + +Odours and gleams and murmurs, which the lute +Of the blind pilot-spirit of the blast +Stirs as it sails, now grave and now acute, + +Wakening the leaves and waves, ere it has passed +To such brief unison as on the brain _65 +One tone, which never can recur, has cast, +One accent never to return again. + +... + +The world is full of Woodmen who expel +Love’s gentle Dryads from the haunts of life, +And vex the nightingales in every dell. _70 + +NOTE: +_8 —or as a tuberose cj. A.C. Bradley. + +*** + + +MARENGHI. (This fragment refers to an event told in Sismondi’s +“Histoire des Republiques Italiennes”, which occurred during the war +when Florence finally subdued Pisa, and reduced it to a +province.—[MRS. SHELLEY’S NOTE, 1824.]) + +[Published in part (stanzas 7-15.) by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, +1824; stanzas 1-28 by W.M. Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. +S.”, 1870. The Boscombe manuscript—evidently a first draft—from which +(through Dr. Garnett) Rossetti derived the text of 1870 is now at the +Bodleian, and has recently been collated by Mr. C.D. Locock, to whom +the enlarged and amended text here printed is owing. The substitution, +in title and text, of “Marenghi” for “Mazenghi” (1824) is due to +Rossetti. Here as elsewhere in the footnotes B. = the Bodleian +manuscript.] + +1. +Let those who pine in pride or in revenge, +Or think that ill for ill should be repaid, +Who barter wrong for wrong, until the exchange +Ruins the merchants of such thriftless trade, +Visit the tower of Vado, and unlearn _5 +Such bitter faith beside Marenghi’s urn. + +2. +A massy tower yet overhangs the town, +A scattered group of ruined dwellings now... + +... + +3. +Another scene are wise Etruria knew +Its second ruin through internal strife _10 +And tyrants through the breach of discord threw +The chain which binds and kills. As death to life, +As winter to fair flowers (though some be poison) +So Monarchy succeeds to Freedom’s foison. + +4. +In Pisa’s church a cup of sculptured gold _15 +Was brimming with the blood of feuds forsworn: +A Sacrament more holy ne’er of old +Etrurians mingled mid the shades forlorn +Of moon-illumined forests, when... + +5. +And reconciling factions wet their lips _20 +With that dread wine, and swear to keep each spirit +Undarkened by their country’s last eclipse... + +... + +6. +Was Florence the liberticide? that band +Of free and glorious brothers who had planted, +Like a green isle mid Aethiopian sand, _25 +A nation amid slaveries, disenchanted +Of many impious faiths—wise, just—do they, +Does Florence, gorge the sated tyrants’ prey? + +7. +O foster-nurse of man’s abandoned glory, +Since Athens, its great mother, sunk in splendour; _30 +Thou shadowest forth that mighty shape in story, +As ocean its wrecked fanes, severe yet tender:— +The light-invested angel Poesy +Was drawn from the dim world to welcome thee. + +8. +And thou in painting didst transcribe all taught _35 +By loftiest meditations; marble knew +The sculptor’s fearless soul—and as he wrought, +The grace of his own power and freedom grew. +And more than all, heroic, just, sublime, +Thou wart among the false...was this thy crime? _40 + +9. +Yes; and on Pisa’s marble walls the twine +Of direst weeds hangs garlanded—the snake +Inhabits its wrecked palaces;—in thine +A beast of subtler venom now doth make +Its lair, and sits amid their glories overthrown, _45 +And thus thy victim’s fate is as thine own. + +10. +The sweetest flowers are ever frail and rare, +And love and freedom blossom but to wither; +And good and ill like vines entangled are, +So that their grapes may oft be plucked together;— _50 +Divide the vintage ere thou drink, then make +Thy heart rejoice for dead Marenghi’s sake. + +10a. +[Albert] Marenghi was a Florentine; +If he had wealth, or children, or a wife +Or friends, [or farm] or cherished thoughts which twine _55 +The sights and sounds of home with life’s own life +Of these he was despoiled and Florence sent... + +... + +11. +No record of his crime remains in story, +But if the morning bright as evening shone, _60 +It was some high and holy deed, by glory +Pursued into forgetfulness, which won +From the blind crowd he made secure and free +The patriot’s meed, toil, death, and infamy. + +12. +For when by sound of trumpet was declared +A price upon his life, and there was set _65 +A penalty of blood on all who shared +So much of water with him as might wet +His lips, which speech divided not—he went +Alone, as you may guess, to banishment. + +13. +Amid the mountains, like a hunted beast, +He hid himself, and hunger, toil, and cold, _70 +Month after month endured; it was a feast +Whene’er he found those globes of deep-red gold +Which in the woods the strawberry-tree doth bear, +Suspended in their emerald atmosphere. _75 + +14. +And in the roofless huts of vast morasses, +Deserted by the fever-stricken serf, +All overgrown with reeds and long rank grasses, +And hillocks heaped of moss-inwoven turf, +And where the huge and speckled aloe made, _80 +Rooted in stones, a broad and pointed shade,— + +15. +He housed himself. There is a point of strand +Near Vado’s tower and town; and on one side +The treacherous marsh divides it from the land, +Shadowed by pine and ilex forests wide, _85 +And on the other, creeps eternally, +Through muddy weeds, the shallow sullen sea. + +16. +Here the earth’s breath is pestilence, and few +But things whose nature is at war with life— +Snakes and ill worms—endure its mortal dew. +The trophies of the clime’s victorious strife— _90 +And ringed horns which the buffalo did wear, +And the wolf’s dark gray scalp who tracked him there. + +17. +And at the utmost point...stood there +The relics of a reed-inwoven cot, _95 +Thatched with broad flags. An outlawed murderer +Had lived seven days there: the pursuit was hot +When he was cold. The birds that were his grave +Fell dead after their feast in Vado’s wave. + +18. +There must have burned within Marenghi’s breast _100 +That fire, more warm and bright than life and hope, +(Which to the martyr makes his dungeon... +More joyous than free heaven’s majestic cope +To his oppressor), warring with decay,— +Or he could ne’er have lived years, day by day. _105 + +19. +Nor was his state so lone as you might think. +He had tamed every newt and snake and toad, +And every seagull which sailed down to drink +Those freshes ere the death-mist went abroad. +And each one, with peculiar talk and play, _110 +Wiled, not untaught, his silent time away. + +20. +And the marsh-meteors, like tame beasts, at night +Came licking with blue tongues his veined feet; +And he would watch them, as, like spirits bright, +In many entangled figures quaint and sweet _115 +To some enchanted music they would dance— +Until they vanished at the first moon-glance. + +21. +He mocked the stars by grouping on each weed +The summer dew-globes in the golden dawn; +And, ere the hoar-frost languished, he could read _120 +Its pictured path, as on bare spots of lawn +Its delicate brief touch in silver weaves +The likeness of the wood’s remembered leaves. + +22. +And many a fresh Spring morn would he awaken— +While yet the unrisen sun made glow, like iron _125 +Quivering in crimson fire, the peaks unshaken +Of mountains and blue isles which did environ +With air-clad crags that plain of land and sea,— +And feel ... liberty. + +23. +And in the moonless nights when the dun ocean _130 +Heaved underneath wide heaven, star-impearled, +Starting from dreams... +Communed with the immeasurable world; +And felt his life beyond his limbs dilated, +Till his mind grew like that it contemplated. _135 + +24. +His food was the wild fig and strawberry; +The milky pine-nuts which the autumn-blast +Shakes into the tall grass; or such small fry +As from the sea by winter-storms are cast; +And the coarse bulbs of iris-flowers he found _140 +Knotted in clumps under the spongy ground. + +25. +And so were kindled powers and thoughts which made +His solitude less dark. When memory came +(For years gone by leave each a deepening shade), +His spirit basked in its internal flame,— _145 +As, when the black storm hurries round at night, +The fisher basks beside his red firelight. + +26. +Yet human hopes and cares and faiths and errors, +Like billows unawakened by the wind, +Slept in Marenghi still; but that all terrors, _150 +Weakness, and doubt, had withered in his mind. +His couch... + +... + +27. +And, when he saw beneath the sunset’s planet +A black ship walk over the crimson ocean,— +Its pennon streaming on the blasts that fan it, _155 +Its sails and ropes all tense and without motion, +Like the dark ghost of the unburied even +Striding athwart the orange-coloured heaven,— + +28. +The thought of his own kind who made the soul +Which sped that winged shape through night and day,— _160 +The thought of his own country... + +... + +NOTES: +_3 Who B.; Or 1870. +_6 Marenghi’s 1870; Mazenghi’s B. +_7 town 1870; sea B. +_8 ruined 1870; squalid B. (‘the whole line is cancelled,’ Locock). +_11 threw 1870; cancelled, B. +_17 A Sacrament more B.; At Sacrament: more 1870. +_18 mid B.; with 1870. +_19 forests when... B.; forests. 1870. +_23, _24 that band Of free and glorious brothers who had 1870; omitted, B. +_25 a 1870; one B. +_27 wise, just—do they 1870; omitted, B. +_28 Does 1870; Doth B. prey 1870; spoil B. +_33 angel 1824; Herald [?] B. +_34 to welcome thee 1824; cancelled for... by thee B. +_42 direst 1824; Desert B. +_45 sits amid 1824 amid cancelled for soils (?) B. +_53-_57 Albert...sent B.; omitted 1824, 1870. Albert cancelled B.: + Pietro is the correct name. +_53 Marenghi]Mazenghi B. +_55 farm doubtful: perh. fame (Locock). +_62 he 1824; thus B. +_70 Amid the mountains 1824; Mid desert mountains [?] B. +_71 toil, and cold]cold and toil editions 1824, 1839. +_92, _93 And... there B. (see Editor’s Note); White bones, and locks of + dun and yellow hair, And ringed horns which buffaloes did wear— 1870. +_94 at the utmost point 1870; cancelled for when (where?) B. +_95 reed B.; weed 1870. +_99 after B.; upon 1870. +_100 burned within Marenghi’s breast B.; + lived within Marenghi’s heart 1870. +_101 and B.; or 1870. +_103 free B.; the 1870. +_109 freshes B.; omitted, 1870. +_118 by 1870; with B. +_119 dew-globes B.; dewdrops 1870. +_120 languished B.; vanished 1870. +_121 path, as on [bare] B.; footprints, as on 1870. +_122 silver B.; silence 1870. +_130 And in the moonless nights 1870; cancelled, B. dun B.; + dim 1870. +_131 Heaved 1870; cancelled, B. wide B.; + the 1870. star-impearled B.; omitted, 1870. +_132 Starting from dreams 1870; cancelled for He B. +_137 autumn B.; autumnal 1870. +_138 or B.; and 1870. +_155 pennon B.; pennons 1870. +_158 athwart B.; across 1870. + +*** + + +SONNET. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. +Our text is that of the “Poetical Works”, 1839.] + +Lift not the painted veil which those who live +Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there, +And it but mimic all we would believe +With colours idly spread,—behind, lurk Fear +And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave _5 +Their shadows, o’er the chasm, sightless and drear. +I knew one who had lifted it—he sought, +For his lost heart was tender, things to love +But found them not, alas! nor was there aught +The world contains, the which he could approve. _10 +Through the unheeding many he did move, +A splendour among shadows, a bright blot +Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove +For truth, and like the Preacher found it not. + +NOTES: +_6 Their...drear 1839; + The shadows, which the world calls substance, there 1824. +_7 who had lifted 1839; who lifted 1824. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: TO BYRON. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +O mighty mind, in whose deep stream this age +Shakes like a reed in the unheeding storm, +Why dost thou curb not thine own sacred rage? + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: APOSTROPHE TO SILENCE. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862. A transcript by +Mrs. Shelley, given to Charles Cowden Clarke, presents one or two +variants.] + +Silence! Oh, well are Death and Sleep and Thou +Three brethren named, the guardians gloomy-winged +Of one abyss, where life, and truth, and joy +Are swallowed up—yet spare me, Spirit, pity me, +Until the sounds I hear become my soul, _5 +And it has left these faint and weary limbs, +To track along the lapses of the air +This wandering melody until it rests +Among lone mountains in some... + +NOTES: +_4 Spirit 1862; O Spirit C.C.C. manuscript. +_8 This wandering melody 1862; + These wandering melodies... C.C.C. manuscript. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: THE LAKE’S MARGIN. + +[Published by W.M. Rossetti, 1870.] + +The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses +Track not the steps of him who drinks of it; +For the light breezes, which for ever fleet +Around its margin, heap the sand thereon. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘MY HEAD IS WILD WITH WEEPING’. + +[Published by W.M. Rossetti, 1870.] + +My head is wild with weeping for a grief +Which is the shadow of a gentle mind. +I walk into the air (but no relief +To seek,—or haply, if I sought, to find; +It came unsought);—to wonder that a chief _5 +Among men’s spirits should be cold and blind. + +NOTE: +_4 find cj. A.C. Bradley. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: THE VINE-SHROUD. + +[Published by W.M. Rossetti, 1870.] + +Flourishing vine, whose kindling clusters glow +Beneath the autumnal sun, none taste of thee; +For thou dost shroud a ruin, and below +The rotting bones of dead antiquity. + +*** + + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1818, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +We often hear of persons disappointed by a first visit to Italy. This +was not Shelley’s case. The aspect of its nature, its sunny sky, its +majestic storms, of the luxuriant vegetation of the country, and the +noble marble-built cities, enchanted him. The sight of the works of art +was full enjoyment and wonder. He had not studied pictures or statues +before; he now did so with the eye of taste, that referred not to the +rules of schools, but to those of Nature and truth. The first entrance +to Rome opened to him a scene of remains of antique grandeur that far +surpassed his expectations; and the unspeakable beauty of Naples and +its environs added to the impression he received of the transcendent +and glorious beauty of Italy. + +Our winter was spent at Naples. Here he wrote the fragments of +“Marenghi” and “The Woodman and the Nightingale”, which he afterwards +threw aside. At this time, Shelley suffered greatly in health. He put +himself under the care of a medical man, who promised great things, and +made him endure severe bodily pain, without any good results. Constant +and poignant physical suffering exhausted him; and though he preserved +the appearance of cheerfulness, and often greatly enjoyed our +wanderings in the environs of Naples, and our excursions on its sunny +sea, yet many hours were passed when his thoughts, shadowed by illness, +became gloomy,—and then he escaped to solitude, and in verses, which +he hid from fear of wounding me, poured forth morbid but too natural +bursts of discontent and sadness. One looks back with unspeakable +regret and gnawing remorse to such periods; fancying that, had one been +more alive to the nature of his feelings, and more attentive to soothe +them, such would not have existed. And yet, enjoying as he appeared to +do every sight or influence of earth or sky, it was difficult to +imagine that any melancholy he showed was aught but the effect of the +constant pain to which he was a martyr. + +We lived in utter solitude. And such is often not the nurse of +cheerfulness; for then, at least with those who have been exposed to +adversity, the mind broods over its sorrows too intently; while the +society of the enlightened, the witty, and the wise, enables us to +forget ourselves by making us the sharers of the thoughts of others, +which is a portion of the philosophy of happiness. Shelley never liked +society in numbers,—it harassed and wearied him; but neither did he +like loneliness, and usually, when alone, sheltered himself against +memory and reflection in a book. But, with one or two whom he loved, he +gave way to wild and joyous spirits, or in more serious conversation +expounded his opinions with vivacity and eloquence. If an argument +arose, no man ever argued better. He was clear, logical, and earnest, +in supporting his own views; attentive, patient, and impartial, while +listening to those on the adverse side. Had not a wall of prejudice +been raised at this time between him and his countrymen, how many would +have sought the acquaintance of one whom to know was to love and to +revere! How many of the more enlightened of his contemporaries have +since regretted that they did not seek him! how very few knew his worth +while he lived! and, of those few, several were withheld by timidity or +envy from declaring their sense of it. But no man was ever more +enthusiastically loved—more looked up to, as one superior to his +fellows in intellectual endowments and moral worth, by the few who knew +him well, and had sufficient nobleness of soul to appreciate his +superiority. His excellence is now acknowledged; but, even while +admitted, not duly appreciated. For who, except those who were +acquainted with him, can imagine his unwearied benevolence, his +generosity, his systematic forbearance? And still less is his vast +superiority in intellectual attainments sufficiently understood—his +sagacity, his clear understanding, his learning, his prodigious memory. +All these as displayed in conversation, were known to few while he +lived, and are now silent in the tomb: + +‘Ahi orbo mondo ingrato! +Gran cagion hai di dever pianger meco; +Che quel ben ch’ era in te, perdut’ hai seco.’ + +*** + + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1819. + + +LINES WRITTEN DURING THE CASTLEREAGH ADMINISTRATION. + +[Published by Medwin, “The Athenaeum”, December 8, 1832; reprinted, +“Poetical Works”, 1839. There is a transcript amongst the Harvard +manuscripts, and another in the possession of Mr. C.W. Frederickson of +Brooklyn. Variants from these two sources are given by Professor +Woodberry, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, Centenary Edition, +1893, volume 3 pages 225, 226. The transcripts are referred to in our +footnotes as Harvard and Fred. respectively.] + +1. +Corpses are cold in the tomb; +Stones on the pavement are dumb; +Abortions are dead in the womb, +And their mothers look pale—like the death-white shore +Of Albion, free no more. _5 + +2. +Her sons are as stones in the way— +They are masses of senseless clay— +They are trodden, and move not away,— +The abortion with which SHE travaileth +Is Liberty, smitten to death. _10 + +3. +Then trample and dance, thou Oppressor! +For thy victim is no redresser; +Thou art sole lord and possessor +Of her corpses, and clods, and abortions—they pave +Thy path to the grave. _15 + +4. +Hearest thou the festival din +Of Death, and Destruction, and Sin, +And Wealth crying “Havoc!” within? +’Tis the bacchanal triumph that makes Truth dumb, +Thine Epithalamium. _20 + +5. +Ay, marry thy ghastly wife! +Let Fear and Disquiet and Strife +Spread thy couch in the chamber of Life! +Marry Ruin, thou Tyrant! and Hell be thy guide +To the bed of the bride! _25 + +NOTES: +_4 death-white Harvard, Fred.; white 1832, 1839. +_16 festival Harvard, Fred., 1839; festal 1832. +_19 that Fred.; which Harvard 1832. +_22 Disquiet Harvard, Fred., 1839; Disgust 1832. +_24 Hell Fred.; God Harvard, 1832, 1839. +_25 the bride Harvard, Fred., 1839; thy bride 1832. + +*** + + +SONG TO THE MEN OF ENGLAND. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +1. +Men of England, wherefore plough +For the lords who lay ye low? +Wherefore weave with toil and care +The rich robes your tyrants wear? + +2. +Wherefore feed, and clothe, and save, _5 +From the cradle to the grave, +Those ungrateful drones who would +Drain your sweat—nay, drink your blood? + +3. +Wherefore, Bees of England, forge +Many a weapon, chain, and scourge, _10 +That these stingless drones may spoil +The forced produce of your toil? + +4. +Have ye leisure, comfort, calm, +Shelter, food, love’s gentle balm? +Or what is it ye buy so dear _15 +With your pain and with your fear? + +5. +The seed ye sow, another reaps; +The wealth ye find, another keeps; +The robes ye weave, another wears; +The arms ye forge; another bears. _20 + +6. +Sow seed,—but let no tyrant reap; +Find wealth,—let no impostor heap; +Weave robes,—let not the idle wear; +Forge arms,—in your defence to bear. + +7. +Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells; _25 +In halls ye deck another dwells. +Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see +The steel ye tempered glance on ye. + +8. +With plough and spade, and hoe and loom, +Trace your grave, and build your tomb, _30 +And weave your winding-sheet, till fair +England be your sepulchre. + +*** + + +SIMILES FOR TWO POLITICAL CHARACTERS OF 1819. + +[Published by Medwin, “The Athenaeum”, August 25, 1832; reprinted by +Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839. Our title is that of 1839, 2nd +edition. The poem is found amongst the Harvard manuscripts, headed “To +S—th and O—gh”.] + +1. +As from an ancestral oak +Two empty ravens sound their clarion, +Yell by yell, and croak by croak, +When they scent the noonday smoke +Of fresh human carrion:— _5 + +2. +As two gibbering night-birds flit +From their bowers of deadly yew +Through the night to frighten it, +When the moon is in a fit, +And the stars are none, or few:— _10 + +3. +As a shark and dog-fish wait +Under an Atlantic isle, +For the negro-ship, whose freight +Is the theme of their debate, +Wrinkling their red gills the while— _15 + +4. +Are ye, two vultures sick for battle, +Two scorpions under one wet stone, +Two bloodless wolves whose dry throats rattle, +Two crows perched on the murrained cattle, +Two vipers tangled into one. _20 + +NOTE: +_7 yew 1832; hue 1839. + +** + + +FRAGMENT: TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +People of England, ye who toil and groan, +Who reap the harvests which are not your own, +Who weave the clothes which your oppressors wear, +And for your own take the inclement air; +Who build warm houses... _5 +And are like gods who give them all they have, +And nurse them from the cradle to the grave... + +... + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘WHAT MEN GAIN FAIRLY’. +(Perhaps connected with that immediately preceding (Forman).—ED.) + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +What men gain fairly—that they should possess, +And children may inherit idleness, +From him who earns it—This is understood; +Private injustice may be general good. +But he who gains by base and armed wrong, _5 +Or guilty fraud, or base compliances, +May be despoiled; even as a stolen dress +Is stripped from a convicted thief; and he +Left in the nakedness of infamy. + +*** + + +A NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +1. +God prosper, speed, and save, +God raise from England’s grave +Her murdered Queen! +Pave with swift victory +The steps of Liberty, _5 +Whom Britons own to be +Immortal Queen. + +2. +See, she comes throned on high, +On swift Eternity! +God save the Queen! _10 +Millions on millions wait, +Firm, rapid, and elate, +On her majestic state! +God save the Queen! + +3. +She is Thine own pure soul _15 +Moulding the mighty whole,— +God save the Queen! +She is Thine own deep love +Rained down from Heaven above,— +Wherever she rest or move, _20 +God save our Queen! + +4. +‘Wilder her enemies +In their own dark disguise,— +God save our Queen! +All earthly things that dare _25 +Her sacred name to bear, +Strip them, as kings are, bare; +God save the Queen! + +5. +Be her eternal throne +Built in our hearts alone— _30 +God save the Queen! +Let the oppressor hold +Canopied seats of gold; +She sits enthroned of old +O’er our hearts Queen. _35 + +6. +Lips touched by seraphim +Breathe out the choral hymn +‘God save the Queen!’ +Sweet as if angels sang, +Loud as that trumpet’s clang _40 +Wakening the world’s dead gang,— +God save the Queen! + +*** + + +SONNET: ENGLAND IN 1819. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,— +Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow +Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,— +Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, +But leech-like to their fainting country cling, _5 +Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,— +A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,— +An army, which liberticide and prey +Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,— +Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; _10 +Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed; +A Senate,—Time’s worst statute, unrepealed,— +Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may +Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day. + +*** + + +AN ODE, WRITTEN OCTOBER, 1819, +BEFORE THE SPANIARDS HAD RECOVERED THEIR LIBERTY. + +[Published with “Prometheus Unbound”, 1820.] + +Arise, arise, arise! +There is blood on the earth that denies ye bread; +Be your wounds like eyes +To weep for the dead, the dead, the dead. +What other grief were it just to pay? _5 +Your sons, your wives, your brethren, were they; +Who said they were slain on the battle day? + +Awaken, awaken, awaken! +The slave and the tyrant are twin-born foes; +Be the cold chains shaken _10 +To the dust where your kindred repose, repose: +Their bones in the grave will start and move, +When they hear the voices of those they love, +Most loud in the holy combat above. + +Wave, wave high the banner! _15 +When Freedom is riding to conquest by: +Though the slaves that fan her +Be Famine and Toil, giving sigh for sigh. +And ye who attend her imperial car, +Lift not your hands in the banded war, _20 +But in her defence whose children ye are. + +Glory, glory, glory, +To those who have greatly suffered and done! +Never name in story +Was greater than that which ye shall have won. _25 +Conquerors have conquered their foes alone, +Whose revenge, pride, and power they have overthrown +Ride ye, more victorious, over your own. + +Bind, bind every brow +With crownals of violet, ivy, and pine: _30 +Hide the blood-stains now +With hues which sweet Nature has made divine: +Green strength, azure hope, and eternity: +But let not the pansy among them be; +Ye were injured, and that means memory. _35 + +*** + + +CANCELLED STANZA. + +[Published in “The Times” (Rossetti).] + +Gather, O gather, +Foeman and friend in love and peace! +Waves sleep together +When the blasts that called them to battle, cease. +For fangless Power grown tame and mild _5 +Is at play with Freedom’s fearless child— +The dove and the serpent reconciled! + +*** + + +ODE TO HEAVEN. + +[Published with “Prometheus Unbound”, 1820. Dated ‘Florence, December, +1819’ in Harvard manuscript (Woodberry). A transcript exists amongst +the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian Library. See Mr. C.D. Locock’s +“Examination”, etc., page 39.] + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS: + +FIRST SPIRIT: +Palace-roof of cloudless nights! +Paradise of golden lights! +Deep, immeasurable, vast, +Which art now, and which wert then +Of the Present and the Past, _5 +Of the eternal Where and When, +Presence-chamber, temple, home, +Ever-canopying dome, +Of acts and ages yet to come! + +Glorious shapes have life in thee, _10 +Earth, and all earth’s company; +Living globes which ever throng +Thy deep chasms and wildernesses; +And green worlds that glide along; +And swift stars with flashing tresses; _15 +And icy moons most cold and bright, +And mighty suns beyond the night, +Atoms of intensest light. + +Even thy name is as a god, +Heaven! for thou art the abode _20 +Of that Power which is the glass +Wherein man his nature sees. +Generations as they pass +Worship thee with bended knees. +Their unremaining gods and they _25 +Like a river roll away: +Thou remainest such—alway!— + +SECOND SPIRIT: +Thou art but the mind’s first chamber, +Round which its young fancies clamber, +Like weak insects in a cave, _30 +Lighted up by stalactites; +But the portal of the grave, +Where a world of new delights +Will make thy best glories seem +But a dim and noonday gleam _35 +From the shadow of a dream! + +THIRD SPIRIT: +Peace! the abyss is wreathed with scorn +At your presumption, atom-born! +What is Heaven? and what are ye +Who its brief expanse inherit? _40 +What are suns and spheres which flee +With the instinct of that Spirit +Of which ye are but a part? +Drops which Nature’s mighty heart +Drives through thinnest veins! Depart! _45 + +What is Heaven? a globe of dew, +Filling in the morning new +Some eyed flower whose young leaves waken +On an unimagined world: +Constellated suns unshaken, _50 +Orbits measureless, are furled +In that frail and fading sphere, +With ten millions gathered there, +To tremble, gleam, and disappear. + +*** + + +CANCELLED FRAGMENTS OF THE ODE TO HEAVEN. + +[Published by Mr. C.D. Locock, “Examination”, etc., 1903.] + +The [living frame which sustains my soul] +Is [sinking beneath the fierce control] +Down through the lampless deep of song +I am drawn and driven along— + +When a Nation screams aloud _5 +Like an eagle from the cloud +When a... + +... + +When the night... + +... + +Watch the look askance and old— +See neglect, and falsehood fold... _10 + +*** + + +ODE TO THE WEST WIND. + +(This poem was conceived and chiefly written in a wood that skirts the +Arno, near Florence, and on a day when that tempestuous wind, whose +temperature is at once mild and animating, was collecting the vapours +which pour down the autumnal rains. They began, as I foresaw, at sunset +with a violent tempest of hail and rain, attended by that magnificent +thunder and lightning peculiar to the Cisalpine regions. + +The phenomenon alluded to at the conclusion of the third stanza is well +known to naturalists. The vegetation at the bottom of the sea, of +rivers, and of lakes, sympathizes with that of the land in the change +of seasons, and is consequently influenced by the winds which announce +it.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +[Published with “Prometheus Unbound”, 1820.] + +1. +O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, +Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead +Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, + +Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, +Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, _5 +Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed + +The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, +Each like a corpse within its grave, until +Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow + +Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth, and fill _10 +(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) +With living hues and odours plain and hill: + +Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; +Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear! + +2. +Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky’s commotion, _15 +Loose clouds like earth’s decaying leaves are shed, +Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, + +Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread +On the blue surface of thine aery surge, +Like the bright hair uplifted from the head _20 + +Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge +Of the horizon to the zenith’s height, +The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge + +Of the dying year, to which this closing night +Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, _25 +Vaulted with all thy congregated might + +Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere +Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear! + +3. +Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams +The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, _30 +Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, + +Beside a pumice isle in Baiae’s bay, +And saw in sleep old palaces and towers +Quivering within the wave’s intenser day, + +All overgrown with azure moss and flowers _35 +So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou +For whose path the Atlantic’s level powers + +Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below +The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear +The sapless foliage of the ocean, know _40 + +Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, +And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear! + +4. +If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; +If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; +A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share _45 + +The impulse of thy strength, only less free +Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even +I were as in my boyhood, and could be + +The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, +As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed _50 +Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne’er have striven + +As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. +Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! +I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! + +A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed _55 +One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. + +5. +Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: +What if my leaves are falling like its own! +The tumult of thy mighty harmonies + +Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, _60 +Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, +My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! + +Drive my dead thoughts over the universe +Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! +And, by the incantation of this verse, _65 + +Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth +Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! +Be through my lips to unawakened earth + +The trumpet of a prophecy! O, Wind, +If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? _70 + +*** + + +AN EXHORTATION. + +[Published with “Prometheus Unbound”, 1820. Dated ‘Pisa, April, 1820’ +in Harvard manuscript (Woodberry), but assigned by Mrs. Shelley to +1819.] + +Chameleons feed on light and air: +Poets’ food is love and fame: +If in this wide world of care +Poets could but find the same +With as little toil as they, _5 +Would they ever change their hue +As the light chameleons do, +Suiting it to every ray +Twenty times a day? + +Poets are on this cold earth, _10 +As chameleons might be, +Hidden from their early birth +in a cave beneath the sea; +Where light is, chameleons change: +Where love is not, poets do: _15 +Fame is love disguised: if few +Find either, never think it strange +That poets range. + +Yet dare not stain with wealth or power +A poet’s free and heavenly mind: _20 +If bright chameleons should devour +Any food but beams and wind, +They would grow as earthly soon +As their brother lizards are. +Children of a sunnier star, _25 +Spirits from beyond the moon, +Oh, refuse the boon! + +*** + + +THE INDIAN SERENADE. + +[Published, with the title, “Song written for an Indian Air”, in “The +Liberal”, 2, 1822. Reprinted (“Lines to an Indian Air”) by Mrs. +Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. The poem is included in the Harvard +manuscript book, and there is a description by Robert Browning of an +autograph copy presenting some variations from the text of 1824. See +Leigh Hunt’s “Correspondence”, 2, pages 264-8.] + +1. +I arise from dreams of thee +In the first sweet sleep of night, +When the winds are breathing low, +And the stars are shining bright: +I arise from dreams of thee, _5 +And a spirit in my feet +Hath led me—who knows how? +To thy chamber window, Sweet! + +2. +The wandering airs they faint +On the dark, the silent stream— _10 +The Champak odours fail +Like sweet thoughts in a dream; +The nightingale’s complaint, +It dies upon her heart;— +As I must on thine, _15 +Oh, beloved as thou art! + +3. +Oh lift me from the grass! +I die! I faint! I fail! +Let thy love in kisses rain +On my lips and eyelids pale. _20 +My cheek is cold and white, alas! +My heart beats loud and fast;— +Oh! press it to thine own again, +Where it will break at last. + +NOTES: +_3 Harvard manuscript omits When. +_4 shining]burning Harvard manuscript, 1822. +_7 Hath led Browning manuscript, 1822; + Has borne Harvard manuscript; Has led 1824. +_11 The Champak Harvard manuscript, 1822, 1824; + And the Champak’s Browning manuscript. +_15 As I must on 1822, 1824; + As I must die on Harvard manuscript, 1839, 1st edition. +_16 Oh, beloved Browning manuscript, Harvard manuscript, 1839, 1st edition; + Beloved 1822, 1824. +_23 press it to thine own Browning manuscript; + press it close to thine Harvard manuscript, 1824, 1839, 1st edition; + press me to thine own, 1822. + +*** + + +CANCELLED PASSAGE. + +[Published by W.M. Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works”, 1870.] + +O pillow cold and wet with tears! +Thou breathest sleep no more! + +*** + + +TO SOPHIA [MISS STACEY]. + +[Published by W.M. Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works”, 1870.] + +1. +Thou art fair, and few are fairer +Of the Nymphs of earth or ocean; +They are robes that fit the wearer— +Those soft limbs of thine, whose motion +Ever falls and shifts and glances _5 +As the life within them dances. + +2. +Thy deep eyes, a double Planet, +Gaze the wisest into madness +With soft clear fire,—the winds that fan it +Are those thoughts of tender gladness _10 +Which, like zephyrs on the billow, +Make thy gentle soul their pillow. + +3. +If, whatever face thou paintest +In those eyes, grows pale with pleasure, +If the fainting soul is faintest _15 +When it hears thy harp’s wild measure, +Wonder not that when thou speakest +Of the weak my heart is weakest. + +4. +As dew beneath the wind of morning, +As the sea which whirlwinds waken, _20 +As the birds at thunder’s warning, +As aught mute yet deeply shaken, +As one who feels an unseen spirit +Is my heart when thine is near it. + +*** + + +TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. +The fragment included in the Harvard manuscript book.] + +(With what truth may I say— +Roma! Roma! Roma! +Non e piu come era prima!) + +1. +My lost William, thou in whom +Some bright spirit lived, and did +That decaying robe consume +Which its lustre faintly hid,— +Here its ashes find a tomb, _5 +But beneath this pyramid +Thou art not—if a thing divine +Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine +Is thy mother’s grief and mine. + +2. +Where art thou, my gentle child? _10 +Let me think thy spirit feeds, +With its life intense and mild, +The love of living leaves and weeds +Among these tombs and ruins wild;— +Let me think that through low seeds _15 +Of sweet flowers and sunny grass +Into their hues and scents may pass +A portion— + +NOTE: + +Motto _1 may I Harvard manuscript; I may 1824. +_12 With Harvard manuscript, Mrs. Shelley, 1847; Within 1824, 1839. +_16 Of sweet Harvard manuscript; Of the sweet 1824, 1839. + +*** + + +TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +Thy little footsteps on the sands +Of a remote and lonely shore; +The twinkling of thine infant hands, +Where now the worm will feed no more; +Thy mingled look of love and glee _5 +When we returned to gaze on thee— + +*** + + +TO MARY SHELLEY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone, +And left me in this dreary world alone? +Thy form is here indeed—a lovely one— +But thou art fled, gone down the dreary road, +That leads to Sorrow’s most obscure abode; _5 +Thou sittest on the hearth of pale despair, +Where +For thine own sake I cannot follow thee. + +*** + + +TO MARY SHELLEY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +The world is dreary, +And I am weary +Of wandering on without thee, Mary; +A joy was erewhile +In thy voice and thy smile, _5 +And ’tis gone, when I should be gone too, Mary. + +*** + + +ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, +Upon the cloudy mountain-peak supine; +Below, far lands are seen tremblingly; +Its horror and its beauty are divine. +Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie _5 +Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, +Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, +The agonies of anguish and of death. + +2. +Yet it is less the horror than the grace +Which turns the gazer’s spirit into stone, _10 +Whereon the lineaments of that dead face +Are graven, till the characters be grown +Into itself, and thought no more can trace; +’Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown +Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, +Which humanize and harmonize the strain. _15 + +3. +And from its head as from one body grow, +As ... grass out of a watery rock, +Hairs which are vipers, and they curl and flow +And their long tangles in each other lock, _20 +And with unending involutions show +Their mailed radiance, as it were to mock +The torture and the death within, and saw +The solid air with many a ragged jaw. + +4. +And, from a stone beside, a poisonous eft _25 +Peeps idly into those Gorgonian eyes; +Whilst in the air a ghastly bat, bereft +Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise +Out of the cave this hideous light had cleft, +And he comes hastening like a moth that hies _30 +After a taper; and the midnight sky +Flares, a light more dread than obscurity. + +5. +’Tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror; +For from the serpents gleams a brazen glare +Kindled by that inextricable error, _35 +Which makes a thrilling vapour of the air +Become a ... and ever-shifting mirror +Of all the beauty and the terror there— +A woman’s countenance, with serpent-locks, +Gazing in death on Heaven from those wet rocks. _40 + +NOTES: +_5 seems 1839; seem 1824. +_6 shine]shrine 1824, 1839. +_26 those 1824; these 1839. + +*** + + +LOVE’S PHILOSOPHY. + +[Published by Leigh Hunt, “The Indicator”, December 22, 1819. Reprinted +by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. Included in the Harvard +manuscript book, where it is headed “An Anacreontic”, and dated +‘January, 1820.’ Written by Shelley in a copy of Hunt’s “Literary +Pocket-Book”, 1819, and presented to Sophia Stacey, December 29, 1820.] + +1. +The fountains mingle with the river +And the rivers with the Ocean, +The winds of Heaven mix for ever +With a sweet emotion; +Nothing in the world is single; _5 +All things by a law divine +In one spirit meet and mingle. +Why not I with thine?— + +2. +See the mountains kiss high Heaven +And the waves clasp one another; _10 +No sister-flower would be forgiven +If it disdained its brother; +And the sunlight clasps the earth +And the moonbeams kiss the sea: +What is all this sweet work worth _15 +If thou kiss not me? + +NOTES: +_3 mix for ever 1819, Stacey manuscript; + meet together, Harvard manuscript. +_7 In one spirit meet and Stacey manuscript; + In one another’s being 1819, Harvard manuscript. +_11 No sister 1824, Harvard and Stacey manuscripts; No leaf or 1819. +_12 disdained its 1824, Harvard and Stacey manuscripts; + disdained to kiss its 1819. +_15 is all this sweet work Stacey manuscript; + were these examples Harvard manuscript; + are all these kissings 1819, 1824. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘FOLLOW TO THE DEEP WOOD’S WEEDS’. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +Follow to the deep wood’s weeds, +Follow to the wild-briar dingle, +Where we seek to intermingle, +And the violet tells her tale +To the odour-scented gale, _5 +For they two have enough to do +Of such work as I and you. + +*** + + +THE BIRTH OF PLEASURE. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +At the creation of the Earth +Pleasure, that divinest birth, +From the soil of Heaven did rise, +Wrapped in sweet wild melodies— +Like an exhalation wreathing _5 +To the sound of air low-breathing +Through Aeolian pines, which make +A shade and shelter to the lake +Whence it rises soft and slow; +Her life-breathing [limbs] did flow _10 +In the harmony divine +Of an ever-lengthening line +Which enwrapped her perfect form +With a beauty clear and warm. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: LOVE THE UNIVERSE TO-DAY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +And who feels discord now or sorrow? +Love is the universe to-day— +These are the slaves of dim to-morrow, +Darkening Life’s labyrinthine way. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘A GENTLE STORY OF TWO LOVERS YOUNG’. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +A gentle story of two lovers young, +Who met in innocence and died in sorrow, +And of one selfish heart, whose rancour clung +Like curses on them; are ye slow to borrow +The lore of truth from such a tale? _5 +Or in this world’s deserted vale, +Do ye not see a star of gladness +Pierce the shadows of its sadness,— +When ye are cold, that love is a light sent +From Heaven, which none shall quench, to cheer the innocent? _10 + +NOTE: +_9 cold]told cj. A.C. Bradley. + For the metre cp. Fragment: To a Friend Released from Prison. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: LOVE’S TENDER ATMOSPHERE. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +There is a warm and gentle atmosphere +About the form of one we love, and thus +As in a tender mist our spirits are +Wrapped in the ... of that which is to us +The health of life’s own life— _5 + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: WEDDED SOULS. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +I am as a spirit who has dwelt +Within his heart of hearts, and I have felt +His feelings, and have thought his thoughts, and known +The inmost converse of his soul, the tone +Unheard but in the silence of his blood, _5 +When all the pulses in their multitude +Image the trembling calm of summer seas. +I have unlocked the golden melodies +Of his deep soul, as with a master-key, +And loosened them and bathed myself therein— _10 +Even as an eagle in a thunder-mist +Clothing his wings with lightning. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘IS IT THAT IN SOME BRIGHTER SPHERE’. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +Is it that in some brighter sphere +We part from friends we meet with here? +Or do we see the Future pass +Over the Present’s dusky glass? +Or what is that that makes us seem _5 +To patch up fragments of a dream, +Part of which comes true, and part +Beats and trembles in the heart? + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: SUFFICIENT UNTO THE DAY. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +Is not to-day enough? Why do I peer +Into the darkness of the day to come? +Is not to-morrow even as yesterday? +And will the day that follows change thy doom? +Few flowers grow upon thy wintry way; _5 +And who waits for thee in that cheerless home +Whence thou hast fled, whither thou must return +Charged with the load that makes thee faint and mourn? + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘YE GENTLE VISITATIONS OF CALM THOUGHT’. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +Ye gentle visitations of calm thought— +Moods like the memories of happier earth, +Which come arrayed in thoughts of little worth, +Like stars in clouds by the weak winds enwrought,— +But that the clouds depart and stars remain, _5 +While they remain, and ye, alas, depart! + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: MUSIC AND SWEET POETRY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +How sweet it is to sit and read the tales +Of mighty poets and to hear the while +Sweet music, which when the attention fails +Fills the dim pause— + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: THE SEPULCHRE OF MEMORY. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +And where is truth? On tombs? for such to thee +Has been my heart—and thy dead memory +Has lain from childhood, many a changeful year, +Unchangingly preserved and buried there. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘WHEN A LOVER CLASPS HIS FAIREST’. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +1. +When a lover clasps his fairest, +Then be our dread sport the rarest. +Their caresses were like the chaff +In the tempest, and be our laugh +His despair—her epitaph! _5 + +2. +When a mother clasps her child, +Watch till dusty Death has piled +His cold ashes on the clay; +She has loved it many a day— +She remains,—it fades away. _10 + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ‘WAKE THE SERPENT NOT’. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +Wake the serpent not—lest he +Should not know the way to go,— +Let him crawl which yet lies sleeping +Through the deep grass of the meadow! +Not a bee shall hear him creeping, _5 +Not a may-fly shall awaken +From its cradling blue-bell shaken, +Not the starlight as he’s sliding +Through the grass with silent gliding. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: RAIN. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +The fitful alternations of the rain, +When the chill wind, languid as with pain +Of its own heavy moisture, here and there +Drives through the gray and beamless atmosphere. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: A TALE UNTOLD. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +One sung of thee who left the tale untold, +Like the false dawns which perish in the bursting; +Like empty cups of wrought and daedal gold, +Which mock the lips with air, when they are thirsting. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: TO ITALY. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +As the sunrise to the night, +As the north wind to the clouds, +As the earthquake’s fiery flight, +Ruining mountain solitudes, +Everlasting Italy, _5 +Be those hopes and fears on thee. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: WINE OF THE FAIRIES. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +I am drunk with the honey wine +Of the moon-unfolded eglantine, +Which fairies catch in hyacinth bowls. +The bats, the dormice, and the moles +Sleep in the walls or under the sward _5 +Of the desolate castle yard; +And when ’tis spilt on the summer earth +Or its fumes arise among the dew, +Their jocund dreams are full of mirth, +They gibber their joy in sleep; for few _10 +Of the fairies bear those bowls so new! + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: A ROMAN’S CHAMBER. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +1. +In the cave which wild weeds cover +Wait for thine aethereal lover; +For the pallid moon is waning, +O’er the spiral cypress hanging +And the moon no cloud is staining. _5 + +2. +It was once a Roman’s chamber, +Where he kept his darkest revels, +And the wild weeds twine and clamber; +It was then a chasm for devils. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: ROME AND NATURE. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.] + +Rome has fallen, ye see it lying +Heaped in undistinguished ruin: +Nature is alone undying. + +*** + + +VARIATION OF THE SONG OF THE MOON. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + +(“PROMETHEUS UNBOUND”, ACT 4.) + +As a violet’s gentle eye +Gazes on the azure sky +Until its hue grows like what it beholds; +As a gray and empty mist +Lies like solid amethyst _5 +Over the western mountain it enfolds, +When the sunset sleeps +Upon its snow; +As a strain of sweetest sound +Wraps itself the wind around _10 +Until the voiceless wind be music too; +As aught dark, vain, and dull, +Basking in what is beautiful, +Is full of light and love— + +*** + + +CANCELLED STANZA OF THE MASK OF ANARCHY. + +[Published by H. Buxton Forman, “The Mask of Anarchy” (“Facsimile of +Shelley’s manuscript”), 1887.] + +(FOR WHICH STANZAS 68, 69 HAVE BEEN SUBSTITUTED.) + +From the cities where from caves, +Like the dead from putrid graves, +Troops of starvelings gliding come, +Living Tenants of a tomb. + +*** + + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1819, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +Shelley loved the People; and respected them as often more virtuous, as +always more suffering, and therefore more deserving of sympathy, than +the great. He believed that a clash between the two classes of society +was inevitable, and he eagerly ranged himself on the people’s side. He +had an idea of publishing a series of poems adapted expressly to +commemorate their circumstances and wrongs. He wrote a few; but, in +those days of prosecution for libel, they could not be printed. They +are not among the best of his productions, a writer being always +shackled when he endeavours to write down to the comprehension of those +who could not understand or feel a highly imaginative style; but they +show his earnestness, and with what heart-felt compassion he went home +to the direct point of injury—that oppression is detestable as being +the parent of starvation, nakedness, and ignorance. Besides these +outpourings of compassion and indignation, he had meant to adorn the +cause he loved with loftier poetry of glory and triumph: such is the +scope of the “Ode to the Assertors of Liberty”. He sketched also a new +version of our national anthem, as addressed to Liberty. + +*** + + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1820. + + +THE SENSITIVE PLANT. + +[Composed at Pisa, early in 1820 (dated ‘March, 1820,’ in Harvard +manuscript), and published, with “Prometheus Unbound”, the same year: +included in the Harvard College manuscript book. Reprinted in the +“Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions.] + +PART 1. + +A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew, +And the young winds fed it with silver dew, +And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light. +And closed them beneath the kisses of Night. + +And the Spring arose on the garden fair, _5 +Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; +And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast +Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. + +But none ever trembled and panted with bliss +In the garden, the field, or the wilderness, _10 +Like a doe in the noontide with love’s sweet want, +As the companionless Sensitive Plant. + +The snowdrop, and then the violet, +Arose from the ground with warm rain wet, +And their breath was mixed with fresh odour, sent _15 +From the turf, like the voice and the instrument. + +Then the pied wind-flowers and the tulip tall, +And narcissi, the fairest among them all, +Who gaze on their eyes in the stream’s recess, +Till they die of their own dear loveliness; _20 + +And the Naiad-like lily of the vale, +Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale +That the light of its tremulous bells is seen +Through their pavilions of tender green; + +And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue, _25 +Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew +Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, +It was felt like an odour within the sense; + +And the rose like a nymph to the bath addressed, +Which unveiled the depth of her glowing breast, _30 +Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air +The soul of her beauty and love lay bare: + +And the wand-like lily, which lifted up, +As a Maenad, its moonlight-coloured cup, +Till the fiery star, which is its eye, +Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky; _35 + +And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tuberose, +The sweetest flower for scent that blows; +And all rare blossoms from every clime +Grew in that garden in perfect prime. _40 + +And on the stream whose inconstant bosom +Was pranked, under boughs of embowering blossom, +With golden and green light, slanting through +Their heaven of many a tangled hue, + +Broad water-lilies lay tremulously, _45 +And starry river-buds glimmered by, +And around them the soft stream did glide and dance +With a motion of sweet sound and radiance. + +And the sinuous paths of lawn and of moss, +Which led through the garden along and across, _50 +Some open at once to the sun and the breeze, +Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees, + +Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells +As fair as the fabulous asphodels, +And flow’rets which, drooping as day drooped too, _55 +Fell into pavilions, white, purple, and blue, +To roof the glow-worm from the evening dew. + +And from this undefiled Paradise +The flowers (as an infant’s awakening eyes +Smile on its mother, whose singing sweet _60 +Can first lull, and at last must awaken it), + +When Heaven’s blithe winds had unfolded them, +As mine-lamps enkindle a hidden gem, +Shone smiling to Heaven, and every one _65 +Shared joy in the light of the gentle sun; + +For each one was interpenetrated +With the light and the odour its neighbour shed, +Like young lovers whom youth and love make dear +Wrapped and filled by their mutual atmosphere. + +But the Sensitive Plant which could give small fruit _70 +Of the love which it felt from the leaf to the root, +Received more than all, it loved more than ever, +Where none wanted but it, could belong to the giver,— + +For the Sensitive Plant has no bright flower; +Radiance and odour are not its dower; _75 +It loves, even like Love, its deep heart is full, +It desires what it has not, the Beautiful! + +The light winds which from unsustaining wings +Shed the music of many murmurings; +The beams which dart from many a star _80 +Of the flowers whose hues they bear afar; + +The plumed insects swift and free, +Like golden boats on a sunny sea, +Laden with light and odour, which pass +Over the gleam of the living grass; _85 + +The unseen clouds of the dew, which lie +Like fire in the flowers till the sun rides high, +Then wander like spirits among the spheres, +Each cloud faint with the fragrance it bears; + +The quivering vapours of dim noontide, _90 +Which like a sea o’er the warm earth glide, +In which every sound, and odour, and beam, +Move, as reeds in a single stream; + +Each and all like ministering angels were +For the Sensitive Plant sweet joy to bear, _95 +Whilst the lagging hours of the day went by +Like windless clouds o’er a tender sky. + +And when evening descended from Heaven above, +And the Earth was all rest, and the air was all love, +And delight, though less bright, was far more deep, _100 +And the day’s veil fell from the world of sleep, + +And the beasts, and the birds, and the insects were drowned +In an ocean of dreams without a sound; +Whose waves never mark, though they ever impress +The light sand which paves it, consciousness; _105 + +(Only overhead the sweet nightingale +Ever sang more sweet as the day might fail, +And snatches of its Elysian chant +Were mixed with the dreams of the Sensitive Plant);— + +The Sensitive Plant was the earliest _110 +Upgathered into the bosom of rest; +A sweet child weary of its delight, +The feeblest and yet the favourite, +Cradled within the embrace of Night. + +NOTES: +_6 Like the Spirit of Love felt 1820; + And the Spirit of Love felt 1839, 1st edition; + And the Spirit of Love fell 1839, 2nd edition. +_49 and of moss]and moss Harvard manuscript. +_82 The]And the Harvard manuscript. + + +PART 2. + +There was a Power in this sweet place, +An Eve in this Eden; a ruling Grace +Which to the flowers, did they waken or dream, +Was as God is to the starry scheme. + +A Lady, the wonder of her kind, _5 +Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind +Which, dilating, had moulded her mien and motion +Like a sea-flower unfolded beneath the ocean, + +Tended the garden from morn to even: +And the meteors of that sublunar Heaven, _10 +Like the lamps of the air when Night walks forth, +Laughed round her footsteps up from the Earth! + +She had no companion of mortal race, +But her tremulous breath and her flushing face +Told, whilst the morn kissed the sleep from her eyes, _15 +That her dreams were less slumber than Paradise: + +As if some bright Spirit for her sweet sake +Had deserted Heaven while the stars were awake, +As if yet around her he lingering were, +Though the veil of daylight concealed him from her. _20 + +Her step seemed to pity the grass it pressed; +You might hear by the heaving of her breast, +That the coming and going of the wind +Brought pleasure there and left passion behind. + +And wherever her aery footstep trod, _25 +Her trailing hair from the grassy sod +Erased its light vestige, with shadowy sweep, +Like a sunny storm o’er the dark green deep. + +I doubt not the flowers of that garden sweet +Rejoiced in the sound of her gentle feet; _30 +I doubt not they felt the spirit that came +From her glowing fingers through all their frame. + +She sprinkled bright water from the stream +On those that were faint with the sunny beam; +And out of the cups of the heavy flowers _35 +She emptied the rain of the thunder-showers. + +She lifted their heads with her tender hands, +And sustained them with rods and osier-bands; +If the flowers had been her own infants, she +Could never have nursed them more tenderly. _40 + +And all killing insects and gnawing worms, +And things of obscene and unlovely forms, +She bore, in a basket of Indian woof, +Into the rough woods far aloof,— + +In a basket, of grasses and wild-flowers full, _45 +The freshest her gentle hands could pull +For the poor banished insects, whose intent, +Although they did ill, was innocent. + +But the bee and the beamlike ephemeris +Whose path is the lightning’s, and soft moths that kiss _50 +The sweet lips of the flowers, and harm not, did she +Make her attendant angels be. + +And many an antenatal tomb, +Where butterflies dream of the life to come, +She left clinging round the smooth and dark _55 +Edge of the odorous cedar bark. + +This fairest creature from earliest Spring +Thus moved through the garden ministering +Mid the sweet season of Summertide, +And ere the first leaf looked brown—she died! _60 + +NOTES: +_15 morn Harvard manuscript, 1839; moon 1820. +_23 and going 1820; and the going Harvard manuscript, 1839. +_59 All 1820, 1839; Through all Harvard manuscript. + +PART 3. + +Three days the flowers of the garden fair, +Like stars when the moon is awakened, were, +Or the waves of Baiae, ere luminous +She floats up through the smoke of Vesuvius. + +And on the fourth, the Sensitive Plant _5 +Felt the sound of the funeral chant, +And the steps of the bearers, heavy and slow, +And the sobs of the mourners, deep and low; + +The weary sound and the heavy breath, +And the silent motions of passing death, _10 +And the smell, cold, oppressive, and dank, +Sent through the pores of the coffin-plank; + +The dark grass, and the flowers among the grass, +Were bright with tears as the crowd did pass; +From their sighs the wind caught a mournful tone, _15 +And sate in the pines, and gave groan for groan. + +The garden, once fair, became cold and foul, +Like the corpse of her who had been its soul, +Which at first was lovely as if in sleep, +Then slowly changed, till it grew a heap _20 +To make men tremble who never weep. + +Swift Summer into the Autumn flowed, +And frost in the mist of the morning rode, +Though the noonday sun looked clear and bright, +Mocking the spoil of the secret night. _25 + +The rose-leaves, like flakes of crimson snow, +Paved the turf and the moss below. +The lilies were drooping, and white, and wan, +Like the head and the skin of a dying man. + +And Indian plants, of scent and hue _30 +The sweetest that ever were fed on dew, +Leaf by leaf, day after day, +Were massed into the common clay. + +And the leaves, brown, yellow, and gray, and red, +And white with the whiteness of what is dead, _35 +Like troops of ghosts on the dry wind passed; +Their whistling noise made the birds aghast. + +And the gusty winds waked the winged seeds, +Out of their birthplace of ugly weeds, +Till they clung round many a sweet flower’s stem, _40 +Which rotted into the earth with them. + +The water-blooms under the rivulet +Fell from the stalks on which they were set; +And the eddies drove them here and there, +As the winds did those of the upper air. _45 + +Then the rain came down, and the broken stalks +Were bent and tangled across the walks; +And the leafless network of parasite bowers +Massed into ruin; and all sweet flowers. + +Between the time of the wind and the snow _50 +All loathliest weeds began to grow, +Whose coarse leaves were splashed with many a speck, +Like the water-snake’s belly and the toad’s back. + +And thistles, and nettles, and darnels rank, +And the dock, and henbane, and hemlock dank, _55 +Stretched out its long and hollow shank, +And stifled the air till the dead wind stank. + +And plants, at whose names the verse feels loath, +Filled the place with a monstrous undergrowth, +Prickly, and pulpous, and blistering, and blue, _60 +Livid, and starred with a lurid dew. + +And agarics, and fungi, with mildew and mould +Started like mist from the wet ground cold; +Pale, fleshy, as if the decaying dead +With a spirit of growth had been animated! _65 + +Spawn, weeds, and filth, a leprous scum, +Made the running rivulet thick and dumb, +And at its outlet flags huge as stakes +Dammed it up with roots knotted like water-snakes. + +And hour by hour, when the air was still, _70 +The vapours arose which have strength to kill; +At morn they were seen, at noon they were felt, +At night they were darkness no star could melt. + +And unctuous meteors from spray to spray +Crept and flitted in broad noonday _75 +Unseen; every branch on which they alit +By a venomous blight was burned and bit. + +The Sensitive Plant, like one forbid, +Wept, and the tears within each lid +Of its folded leaves, which together grew, _80 +Were changed to a blight of frozen glue. + +For the leaves soon fell, and the branches soon +By the heavy axe of the blast were hewn; +The sap shrank to the root through every pore +As blood to a heart that will beat no more. _85 + +For Winter came: the wind was his whip: +One choppy finger was on his lip: +He had torn the cataracts from the hills +And they clanked at his girdle like manacles; + +His breath was a chain which without a sound _90 +The earth, and the air, and the water bound; +He came, fiercely driven, in his chariot-throne +By the tenfold blasts of the Arctic zone. + +Then the weeds which were forms of living death +Fled from the frost to the earth beneath. _95 +Their decay and sudden flight from frost +Was but like the vanishing of a ghost! + +And under the roots of the Sensitive Plant +The moles and the dormice died for want: +The birds dropped stiff from the frozen air _100 +And were caught in the branches naked and bare. + +First there came down a thawing rain +And its dull drops froze on the boughs again; +Then there steamed up a freezing dew +Which to the drops of the thaw-rain grew; _105 + +And a northern whirlwind, wandering about +Like a wolf that had smelt a dead child out, +Shook the boughs thus laden, and heavy, and stiff, +And snapped them off with his rigid griff. + +When Winter had gone and Spring came back _110 +The Sensitive Plant was a leafless wreck; +But the mandrakes, and toadstools, and docks, and darnels, +Rose like the dead from their ruined charnels. + +CONCLUSION. + +Whether the Sensitive Plant, or that +Which within its boughs like a Spirit sat, _115 +Ere its outward form had known decay, +Now felt this change, I cannot say. + +Whether that Lady’s gentle mind, +No longer with the form combined +Which scattered love, as stars do light, _120 +Found sadness, where it left delight, + +I dare not guess; but in this life +Of error, ignorance, and strife, +Where nothing is, but all things seem, +And we the shadows of the dream, _125 + +It is a modest creed, and yet +Pleasant if one considers it, +To own that death itself must be, +Like all the rest, a mockery. + +That garden sweet, that lady fair, _130 +And all sweet shapes and odours there, +In truth have never passed away: +’Tis we, ’tis ours, are changed; not they. + +For love, and beauty, and delight, +There is no death nor change: their might _135 +Exceeds our organs, which endure +No light, being themselves obscure. + +NOTES: +_19 lovely Harvard manuscript, 1839; lively 1820. +_23 of the morning 1820, 1839; of morning Harvard manuscript. +_26 snow Harvard manuscript, 1839; now 1820. +_28 And lilies were drooping, white and wan Harvard manuscript. +_32 Leaf by leaf, day after day Harvard manuscript; + Leaf after leaf, day after day 1820; + Leaf after leaf, day by day 1839. +_63 mist]mists Harvard manuscript. +_96 and sudden flight]and their sudden flight the Harvard manuscript. +_98 And under]Under Harvard manuscript. +_114 Whether]And if Harvard manuscript. +_118 Whether]Or if Harvard manuscript. + +*** + + +CANCELLED PASSAGE. + +[This stanza followed 3, 62-65 in the editio princeps, 1820, but was +omitted by Mrs. Shelley from all editions from 1839 onwards. It is +cancelled in the Harvard manuscript.] + +Their moss rotted off them, flake by flake, +Till the thick stalk stuck like a murderer’s stake, +Where rags of loose flesh yet tremble on high, +Infecting the winds that wander by. + +*** + + +A VISION OF THE SEA. + +[Composed at Pisa early in 1820, and published with “Prometheus +Unbound” in the same year. A transcript in Mrs. Shelley’s handwriting +is included in the Harvard manuscript book, where it is dated ‘April, +1820.’] + +’Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail +Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale: +From the stark night of vapours the dim rain is driven, +And when lightning is loosed, like a deluge from Heaven, +She sees the black trunks of the waterspouts spin _5 +And bend, as if Heaven was ruining in, +Which they seemed to sustain with their terrible mass +As if ocean had sunk from beneath them: they pass +To their graves in the deep with an earthquake of sound, +And the waves and the thunders, made silent around, _10 +Leave the wind to its echo. The vessel, now tossed +Through the low-trailing rack of the tempest, is lost +In the skirts of the thunder-cloud: now down the sweep +Of the wind-cloven wave to the chasm of the deep +It sinks, and the walls of the watery vale _15 +Whose depths of dread calm are unmoved by the gale, +Dim mirrors of ruin, hang gleaming about; +While the surf, like a chaos of stars, like a rout +Of death-flames, like whirlpools of fire-flowing iron, +With splendour and terror the black ship environ, _20 +Or like sulphur-flakes hurled from a mine of pale fire +In fountains spout o’er it. In many a spire +The pyramid-billows with white points of brine +In the cope of the lightning inconstantly shine, +As piercing the sky from the floor of the sea. _25 +The great ship seems splitting! it cracks as a tree, +While an earthquake is splintering its root, ere the blast +Of the whirlwind that stripped it of branches has passed. +The intense thunder-balls which are raining from Heaven +Have shattered its mast, and it stands black and riven. _30 +The chinks suck destruction. The heavy dead hulk +On the living sea rolls an inanimate bulk, +Like a corpse on the clay which is hungering to fold +Its corruption around it. Meanwhile, from the hold, +One deck is burst up by the waters below, _35 +And it splits like the ice when the thaw-breezes blow +O’er the lakes of the desert! Who sit on the other? +Is that all the crew that lie burying each other, +Like the dead in a breach, round the foremast? Are those +Twin tigers, who burst, when the waters arose, _40 +In the agony of terror, their chains in the hold; +(What now makes them tame, is what then made them bold;) +Who crouch, side by side, and have driven, like a crank, +The deep grip of their claws through the vibrating plank +Are these all? Nine weeks the tall vessel had lain _45 +On the windless expanse of the watery plain, +Where the death-darting sun cast no shadow at noon, +And there seemed to be fire in the beams of the moon, +Till a lead-coloured fog gathered up from the deep, +Whose breath was quick pestilence; then, the cold sleep _50 +Crept, like blight through the ears of a thick field of corn, +O’er the populous vessel. And even and morn, +With their hammocks for coffins the seamen aghast +Like dead men the dead limbs of their comrades cast +Down the deep, which closed on them above and around, _55 +And the sharks and the dogfish their grave-clothes unbound, +And were glutted like Jews with this manna rained down +From God on their wilderness. One after one +The mariners died; on the eve of this day, +When the tempest was gathering in cloudy array, _60 +But seven remained. Six the thunder has smitten, +And they lie black as mummies on which Time has written +His scorn of the embalmer; the seventh, from the deck +An oak-splinter pierced through his breast and his back, +And hung out to the tempest, a wreck on the wreck. _65 +No more? At the helm sits a woman more fair +Than Heaven, when, unbinding its star-braided hair, +It sinks with the sun on the earth and the sea. +She clasps a bright child on her upgathered knee; +It laughs at the lightning, it mocks the mixed thunder _70 +Of the air and the sea, with desire and with wonder +It is beckoning the tigers to rise and come near, +It would play with those eyes where the radiance of fear +Is outshining the meteors; its bosom beats high, +The heart-fire of pleasure has kindled its eye, _75 +While its mother’s is lustreless. ‘Smile not, my child, +But sleep deeply and sweetly, and so be beguiled +Of the pang that awaits us, whatever that be, +So dreadful since thou must divide it with me! +Dream, sleep! This pale bosom, thy cradle and bed, _80 +Will it rock thee not, infant? ’Tis beating with dread! +Alas! what is life, what is death, what are we, +That when the ship sinks we no longer may be? +What! to see thee no more, and to feel thee no more? +To be after life what we have been before? _85 +Not to touch those sweet hands? Not to look on those eyes, +Those lips, and that hair,—all the smiling disguise +Thou yet wearest, sweet Spirit, which I, day by day, +Have so long called my child, but which now fades away +Like a rainbow, and I the fallen shower?’—Lo! the ship _90 +Is settling, it topples, the leeward ports dip; +The tigers leap up when they feel the slow brine +Crawling inch by inch on them; hair, ears, limbs, and eyne, +Stand rigid with horror; a loud, long, hoarse cry +Bursts at once from their vitals tremendously, _95 +And ’tis borne down the mountainous vale of the wave, +Rebounding, like thunder, from crag to cave, +Mixed with the clash of the lashing rain, +Hurried on by the might of the hurricane: +The hurricane came from the west, and passed on _100 +By the path of the gate of the eastern sun, +Transversely dividing the stream of the storm; +As an arrowy serpent, pursuing the form +Of an elephant, bursts through the brakes of the waste. +Black as a cormorant the screaming blast, _105 +Between Ocean and Heaven, like an ocean, passed, +Till it came to the clouds on the verge of the world +Which, based on the sea and to Heaven upcurled, +Like columns and walls did surround and sustain +The dome of the tempest; it rent them in twain, _110 +As a flood rends its barriers of mountainous crag: +And the dense clouds in many a ruin and rag, +Like the stones of a temple ere earthquake has passed, +Like the dust of its fall, on the whirlwind are cast; +They are scattered like foam on the torrent; and where _115 +The wind has burst out through the chasm, from the air +Of clear morning the beams of the sunrise flow in, +Unimpeded, keen, golden, and crystalline, +Banded armies of light and of air; at one gate +They encounter, but interpenetrate. _120 +And that breach in the tempest is widening away, +And the caverns of cloud are torn up by the day, +And the fierce winds are sinking with weary wings, +Lulled by the motion and murmurings +And the long glassy heave of the rocking sea, _125 +And overhead glorious, but dreadful to see, +The wrecks of the tempest, like vapours of gold, +Are consuming in sunrise. The heaped waves behold +The deep calm of blue Heaven dilating above, +And, like passions made still by the presence of Love, _130 +Beneath the clear surface reflecting it slide +Tremulous with soft influence; extending its tide +From the Andes to Atlas, round mountain and isle, +Round sea-birds and wrecks, paved with Heaven’s azure smile, +The wide world of waters is vibrating. Where _135 +Is the ship? On the verge of the wave where it lay +One tiger is mingled in ghastly affray +With a sea-snake. The foam and the smoke of the battle +Stain the clear air with sunbows; the jar, and the rattle +Of solid bones crushed by the infinite stress _140 +Of the snake’s adamantine voluminousness; +And the hum of the hot blood that spouts and rains +Where the gripe of the tiger has wounded the veins +Swollen with rage, strength, and effort; the whirl and the splash +As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth smash _145 +The thin winds and soft waves into thunder; the screams +And hissings crawl fast o’er the smooth ocean-streams, +Each sound like a centipede. Near this commotion, +A blue shark is hanging within the blue ocean, +The fin-winged tomb of the victor. The other _150 +Is winning his way from the fate of his brother +To his own with the speed of despair. Lo! a boat +Advances; twelve rowers with the impulse of thought +Urge on the keen keel,—the brine foams. At the stern +Three marksmen stand levelling. Hot bullets burn _155 +In the breast of the tiger, which yet bears him on +To his refuge and ruin. One fragment alone,— +’Tis dwindling and sinking, ’tis now almost gone,— +Of the wreck of the vessel peers out of the sea. +With her left hand she grasps it impetuously. _160 +With her right she sustains her fair infant. Death, Fear, +Love, Beauty, are mixed in the atmosphere, +Which trembles and burns with the fervour of dread +Around her wild eyes, her bright hand, and her head, +Like a meteor of light o’er the waters! her child _165 +Is yet smiling, and playing, and murmuring; so smiled +The false deep ere the storm. Like a sister and brother +The child and the ocean still smile on each other, +Whilst— + +NOTES: +_6 ruining Harvard manuscript, 1839; raining 1820. +_8 sunk Harvard manuscript, 1839; sank 1820. +_35 by Harvard manuscript; from 1820, 1839. +_61 has 1820; had 1839. +_87 all the Harvard manuscript; all that 1820, 1839. +_116 through Harvard manuscript; from 1820, 1839. +_121 away]alway cj. A.C. Bradley. +_122 cloud Harvard manuscript, 1839; clouds 1820. +_160 impetuously 1820, 1839; convulsively Harvard manuscript. + +*** + + +THE CLOUD. + +[Published with “Prometheus Unbound”, 1820.] + +I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, +From the seas and the streams; +I bear light shade for the leaves when laid +In their noonday dreams. +From my wings are shaken the dews that waken _5 +The sweet buds every one, +When rocked to rest on their mother’s breast, +As she dances about the sun. +I wield the flail of the lashing hail, +And whiten the green plains under, _10 +And then again I dissolve it in rain, +And laugh as I pass in thunder. + +I sift the snow on the mountains below, +And their great pines groan aghast; +And all the night ’tis my pillow white, _15 +While I sleep in the arms of the blast. +Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, +Lightning my pilot sits; +In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, +It struggles and howls at fits; _20 +Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, +This pilot is guiding me, +Lured by the love of the genii that move +In the depths of the purple sea; +Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills. _25 +Over the lakes and the plains, +Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, +The Spirit he loves remains; +And I all the while bask in Heaven’s blue smile, +Whilst he is dissolving in rains. _30 + +The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, +And his burning plumes outspread, +Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, +When the morning star shines dead; +As on the jag of a mountain crag, _35 +Which an earthquake rocks and swings, +An eagle alit one moment may sit +In the light of its golden wings. +And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, +Its ardours of rest and of love, _40 +And the crimson pall of eve may fall +From the depth of Heaven above. +With wings folded I rest, on mine aery nest, +As still as a brooding dove. + +That orbed maiden with white fire laden, _45 +Whom mortals call the Moon, +Glides glimmering o’er my fleece-like floor, +By the midnight breezes strewn; +And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, +Which only the angels hear, _50 +May have broken the woof of my tent’s thin roof. +The stars peep behind her and peer; +And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, +Like a swarm of golden bees. +When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, _55 +Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, +Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, +Are each paved with the moon and these. + +I bind the Sun’s throne with a burning zone, +And the Moon’s with a girdle of pearl; _60 +The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, +When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. +From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, +Over a torrent sea, +Sunbeam-proof, I hand like a roof,— _65 +The mountains its columns be. +The triumphal arch through which I march +With hurricane, fire, and snow, +When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair, +Is the million-coloured bow; _70 +The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, +While the moist Earth was laughing below. + +I am the daughter of Earth and Water, +And the nursling of the Sky; +I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; _75 +I change, but I cannot die. +For after the rain when with never a stain +The pavilion of Heaven is bare, +And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams +Build up the blue dome of air, _80 +I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, +And out of the caverns of rain, +Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, +I arise and unbuild it again. + +NOTES: +_3 shade 1820; shades 1839. +_6 buds 1839; birds 1820. +_59 with a 1820; with the 1830. + +*** + + +TO A SKYLARK. + +[Composed at Leghorn, 1820, and published with “Prometheus Unbound” in +the same year. There is a transcript in the Harvard manuscript.] + +Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! +Bird thou never wert, +That from Heaven, or near it, +Pourest thy full heart +In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. _5 + +Higher still and higher +From the earth thou springest +Like a cloud of fire; +The blue deep thou wingest, +And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. _10 + +In the golden lightning +Of the sunken sun, +O’er which clouds are bright’ning. +Thou dost float and run; +Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. _15 + +The pale purple even +Melts around thy flight; +Like a star of Heaven, +In the broad daylight +Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight, _20 + +Keen as are the arrows +Of that silver sphere, +Whose intense lamp narrows +In the white dawn clear +Until we hardly see—we feel that it is there. _25 + +All the earth and air +With thy voice is loud, +As, when night is bare, +From one lonely cloud +The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflowed. _30 + +What thou art we know not; +What is most like thee? +From rainbow clouds there flow not +Drops so bright to see +As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. _35 + +Like a Poet hidden +In the light of thought, +Singing hymns unbidden, +Till the world is wrought +To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: _40 + +Like a high-born maiden +In a palace-tower, +Soothing her love-laden +Soul in secret hour +With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: _45 + +Like a glow-worm golden +In a dell of dew, +Scattering unbeholden +Its aereal hue +Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view! _50 + +Like a rose embowered +In its own green leaves, +By warm winds deflowered, +Till the scent it gives +Makes faint with too much sweet those heavy-winged thieves: _55 + +Sound of vernal showers +On the twinkling grass, +Rain-awakened flowers, +All that ever was +Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass: _60 + +Teach us, Sprite or Bird, +What sweet thoughts are thine: +I have never heard +Praise of love or wine +That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. _65 + +Chorus Hymeneal, +Or triumphal chant, +Matched with thine would be all +But an empty vaunt, +A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. _70 + +What objects are the fountains +Of thy happy strain? +What fields, or waves, or mountains? +What shapes of sky or plain? +What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? _75 + +With thy clear keen joyance +Languor cannot be: +Shadow of annoyance +Never came near thee: +Thou lovest—but ne’er knew love’s sad satiety. _80 + +Waking or asleep, +Thou of death must deem +Things more true and deep +Than we mortals dream, +Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? _85 + +We look before and after, +And pine for what is not: +Our sincerest laughter +With some pain is fraught; +Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. _90 + +Yet if we could scorn +Hate, and pride, and fear; +If we were things born +Not to shed a tear, +I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. _95 + +Better than all measures +Of delightful sound, +Better than all treasures +That in books are found, +Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! _100 + +Teach me half the gladness +That thy brain must know, +Such harmonious madness +From my lips would flow +The world should listen then—as I am listening now. _105 + +NOTE: +_55 those Harvard manuscript: these 1820, 1839. + + +*** + + +ODE TO LIBERTY. + +[Composed early in 1820, and published, with “Prometheus Unbound”, in +the same year. A transcript in Shelley’s hand of lines 1-21 is included +in the Harvard manuscript book, and amongst the Boscombe manuscripts +there is a fragment of a rough draft (Garnett). For further particulars +concerning the text see Editor’s Notes.] + +Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying, +Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.—BYRON. + +1. +A glorious people vibrated again +The lightning of the nations: Liberty +From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o’er Spain, +Scattering contagious fire into the sky, +Gleamed. My soul spurned the chains of its dismay, _5 +And in the rapid plumes of song +Clothed itself, sublime and strong; +As a young eagle soars the morning clouds among, +Hovering inverse o’er its accustomed prey; +Till from its station in the Heaven of fame _10 +The Spirit’s whirlwind rapped it, and the ray +Of the remotest sphere of living flame +Which paves the void was from behind it flung, +As foam from a ship’s swiftness, when there came +A voice out of the deep: I will record the same. _15 + +2. +The Sun and the serenest Moon sprang forth: +The burning stars of the abyss were hurled +Into the depths of Heaven. The daedal earth, +That island in the ocean of the world, +Hung in its cloud of all-sustaining air: _20 +But this divinest universe +Was yet a chaos and a curse, +For thou wert not: but, power from worst producing worse, +The spirit of the beasts was kindled there, +And of the birds, and of the watery forms, _25 +And there was war among them, and despair +Within them, raging without truce or terms: +The bosom of their violated nurse +Groaned, for beasts warred on beasts, and worms on worms, +And men on men; each heart was as a hell of storms. _30 + +3. +Man, the imperial shape, then multiplied +His generations under the pavilion +Of the Sun’s throne: palace and pyramid, +Temple and prison, to many a swarming million +Were, as to mountain-wolves their ragged caves. _35 +This human living multitude +Was savage, cunning, blind, and rude, +For thou wert not; but o’er the populous solitude, +Like one fierce cloud over a waste of waves, +Hung Tyranny; beneath, sate deified _40 +The sister-pest, congregator of slaves; +Into the shadow of her pinions wide +Anarchs and priests, who feed on gold and blood +Till with the stain their inmost souls are dyed, +Drove the astonished herds of men from every side. _45 + +4. +The nodding promontories, and blue isles, +And cloud-like mountains, and dividuous waves +Of Greece, basked glorious in the open smiles +Of favouring Heaven: from their enchanted caves +Prophetic echoes flung dim melody. _50 +On the unapprehensive wild +The vine, the corn, the olive mild, +Grew savage yet, to human use unreconciled; +And, like unfolded flowers beneath the sea, +Like the man’s thought dark in the infant’s brain, _55 +Like aught that is which wraps what is to be, +Art’s deathless dreams lay veiled by many a vein +Of Parian stone; and, yet a speechless child, +Verse murmured, and Philosophy did strain +Her lidless eyes for thee; when o’er the Aegean main _60 + +5. +Athens arose: a city such as vision +Builds from the purple crags and silver towers +Of battlemented cloud, as in derision +Of kingliest masonry: the ocean-floors +Pave it; the evening sky pavilions it; _65 +Its portals are inhabited +By thunder-zoned winds, each head +Within its cloudy wings with sun-fire garlanded,— +A divine work! Athens, diviner yet, +Gleamed with its crest of columns, on the will _70 +Of man, as on a mount of diamond, set; +For thou wert, and thine all-creative skill +Peopled, with forms that mock the eternal dead +In marble immortality, that hill +Which was thine earliest throne and latest oracle. _75 + +6. +Within the surface of Time’s fleeting river +Its wrinkled image lies, as then it lay +Immovably unquiet, and for ever +It trembles, but it cannot pass away! +The voices of thy bards and sages thunder _80 +With an earth-awakening blast +Through the caverns of the past: +(Religion veils her eyes; Oppression shrinks aghast:) +A winged sound of joy, and love, and wonder, +Which soars where Expectation never flew, _85 +Rending the veil of space and time asunder! +One ocean feeds the clouds, and streams, and dew; +One Sun illumines Heaven; one Spirit vast +With life and love makes chaos ever new, +As Athens doth the world with thy delight renew. _90 + +7. +Then Rome was, and from thy deep bosom fairest, +Like a wolf-cub from a Cadmaean Maenad, +She drew the milk of greatness, though thy dearest +From that Elysian food was yet unweaned; +And many a deed of terrible uprightness _95 +By thy sweet love was sanctified; +And in thy smile, and by thy side, +Saintly Camillus lived, and firm Atilius died. +But when tears stained thy robe of vestal-whiteness, +And gold profaned thy Capitolian throne, _100 +Thou didst desert, with spirit-winged lightness, +The senate of the tyrants: they sunk prone +Slaves of one tyrant: Palatinus sighed +Faint echoes of Ionian song; that tone +Thou didst delay to hear, lamenting to disown _105 + +8. +From what Hyrcanian glen or frozen hill, +Or piny promontory of the Arctic main, +Or utmost islet inaccessible, +Didst thou lament the ruin of thy reign, +Teaching the woods and waves, and desert rocks, _110 +And every Naiad’s ice-cold urn, +To talk in echoes sad and stern +Of that sublimest lore which man had dared unlearn? +For neither didst thou watch the wizard flocks +Of the Scald’s dreams, nor haunt the Druid’s sleep. _115 +What if the tears rained through thy shattered locks +Were quickly dried? for thou didst groan, not weep, +When from its sea of death, to kill and burn, +The Galilean serpent forth did creep, +And made thy world an undistinguishable heap. _120 + +9. +A thousand years the Earth cried, ‘Where art thou?’ +And then the shadow of thy coming fell +On Saxon Alfred’s olive-cinctured brow: +And many a warrior-peopled citadel. +Like rocks which fire lifts out of the flat deep, _125 +Arose in sacred Italy, +Frowning o’er the tempestuous sea +Of kings, and priests, and slaves, in tower-crowned majesty; +That multitudinous anarchy did sweep +And burst around their walls, like idle foam, _130 +Whilst from the human spirit’s deepest deep +Strange melody with love and awe struck dumb +Dissonant arms; and Art, which cannot die, +With divine wand traced on our earthly home +Fit imagery to pave Heaven’s everlasting dome. _135 + +10. +Thou huntress swifter than the Moon! thou terror +Of the world’s wolves! thou bearer of the quiver, +Whose sunlike shafts pierce tempest-winged Error, +As light may pierce the clouds when they dissever +In the calm regions of the orient day! _140 +Luther caught thy wakening glance; +Like lightning, from his leaden lance +Reflected, it dissolved the visions of the trance +In which, as in a tomb, the nations lay; +And England’s prophets hailed thee as their queen, _145 +In songs whose music cannot pass away, +Though it must flow forever: not unseen +Before the spirit-sighted countenance +Of Milton didst thou pass, from the sad scene +Beyond whose night he saw, with a dejected mien. _150 + +11. +The eager hours and unreluctant years +As on a dawn-illumined mountain stood. +Trampling to silence their loud hopes and fears, +Darkening each other with their multitude, +And cried aloud, ‘Liberty!’ Indignation _155 +Answered Pity from her cave; +Death grew pale within the grave, +And Desolation howled to the destroyer, Save! +When like Heaven’s Sun girt by the exhalation +Of its own glorious light, thou didst arise. _160 +Chasing thy foes from nation unto nation +Like shadows: as if day had cloven the skies +At dreaming midnight o’er the western wave, +Men started, staggering with a glad surprise, +Under the lightnings of thine unfamiliar eyes. _165 + +12. +Thou Heaven of earth! what spells could pall thee then +In ominous eclipse? a thousand years +Bred from the slime of deep Oppression’s den. +Dyed all thy liquid light with blood and tears. +Till thy sweet stars could weep the stain away; _170 +How like Bacchanals of blood +Round France, the ghastly vintage, stood +Destruction’s sceptred slaves, and Folly’s mitred brood! +When one, like them, but mightier far than they, +The Anarch of thine own bewildered powers, _175 +Rose: armies mingled in obscure array, +Like clouds with clouds, darkening the sacred bowers +Of serene Heaven. He, by the past pursued, +Rests with those dead, but unforgotten hours, +Whose ghosts scare victor kings in their ancestral towers. _180 + +13. +England yet sleeps: was she not called of old? +Spain calls her now, as with its thrilling thunder +Vesuvius wakens Aetna, and the cold +Snow-crags by its reply are cloven in sunder: +O’er the lit waves every Aeolian isle _185 +From Pithecusa to Pelorus +Howls, and leaps, and glares in chorus: +They cry, ‘Be dim; ye lamps of Heaven suspended o’er us!’ +Her chains are threads of gold, she need but smile +And they dissolve; but Spain’s were links of steel, _190 +Till bit to dust by virtue’s keenest file. +Twins of a single destiny! appeal +To the eternal years enthroned before us +In the dim West; impress us from a seal, +All ye have thought and done! Time cannot dare conceal. _195 + +14. +Tomb of Arminius! render up thy dead +Till, like a standard from a watch-tower’s staff, +His soul may stream over the tyrant’s head; +Thy victory shall be his epitaph, +Wild Bacchanal of truth’s mysterious wine, _200 +King-deluded Germany, +His dead spirit lives in thee. +Why do we fear or hope? thou art already free! +And thou, lost Paradise of this divine +And glorious world! thou flowery wilderness! _205 +Thou island of eternity! thou shrine +Where Desolation, clothed with loveliness, +Worships the thing thou wert! O Italy, +Gather thy blood into thy heart; repress +The beasts who make their dens thy sacred palaces. _210 + +15. +Oh, that the free would stamp the impious name +Of KING into the dust! or write it there, +So that this blot upon the page of fame +Were as a serpent’s path, which the light air +Erases, and the flat sands close behind! _215 +Ye the oracle have heard: +Lift the victory-flashing sword. +And cut the snaky knots of this foul gordian word, +Which, weak itself as stubble, yet can bind +Into a mass, irrefragably firm, _220 +The axes and the rods which awe mankind; +The sound has poison in it, ’tis the sperm +Of what makes life foul, cankerous, and abhorred; +Disdain not thou, at thine appointed term, +To set thine armed heel on this reluctant worm. _225 + +16. +Oh, that the wise from their bright minds would kindle +Such lamps within the dome of this dim world, +That the pale name of PRIEST might shrink and dwindle +Into the hell from which it first was hurled, +A scoff of impious pride from fiends impure; _230 +Till human thoughts might kneel alone, +Each before the judgement-throne +Of its own aweless soul, or of the Power unknown! +Oh, that the words which make the thoughts obscure +From which they spring, as clouds of glimmering dew _235 +From a white lake blot Heaven’s blue portraiture, +Were stripped of their thin masks and various hue +And frowns and smiles and splendours not their own, +Till in the nakedness of false and true +They stand before their Lord, each to receive its due! _240 + +17. +He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever +Can be between the cradle and the grave +Crowned him the King of Life. Oh, vain endeavour! +If on his own high will, a willing slave, +He has enthroned the oppression and the oppressor _245 +What if earth can clothe and feed +Amplest millions at their need, +And power in thought be as the tree within the seed? +Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor, +Driving on fiery wings to Nature’s throne, _250 +Checks the great mother stooping to caress her, +And cries: ‘Give me, thy child, dominion +Over all height and depth’? if Life can breed +New wants, and wealth from those who toil and groan, +Rend of thy gifts and hers a thousandfold for one! _255 + +18. +Come thou, but lead out of the inmost cave +Of man’s deep spirit, as the morning-star +Beckons the Sun from the Eoan wave, +Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her car +Self-moving, like cloud charioted by flame; _260 +Comes she not, and come ye not, +Rulers of eternal thought, +To judge, with solemn truth, life’s ill-apportioned lot? +Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame +Of what has been, the Hope of what will be? _265 +O Liberty! if such could be thy name +Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee: +If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought +By blood or tears, have not the wise and free +Wept tears, and blood like tears?—The solemn harmony _270 + +19. +Paused, and the Spirit of that mighty singing +To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn; +Then, as a wild swan, when sublimely winging +Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of dawn, +Sinks headlong through the aereal golden light _275 +On the heavy-sounding plain, +When the bolt has pierced its brain; +As summer clouds dissolve, unburthened of their rain; +As a far taper fades with fading night, +As a brief insect dies with dying day,— _280 +My song, its pinions disarrayed of might, +Drooped; o’er it closed the echoes far away +Of the great voice which did its flight sustain, +As waves which lately paved his watery way +Hiss round a drowner’s head in their tempestuous play. _285 + +NOTES: +_4 into]unto Harvard manuscript. +_9 inverse cj. Rossetti; in verse 1820. +_92 See the Bacchae of Euripides—[SHELLEY’S NOTE]. +_113 lore 1839; love 1820. +_116 shattered]scattered cj. Rossetti. +_134 wand 1820; want 1830. +_194 us]as cj. Forman. +_212 KING Boscombe manuscript; **** 1820, 1839; CHRIST cj. Swinburne. +_249 Or 1839; O, 1820. +_250 Driving 1820; Diving 1839. + +*** + + +CANCELLED PASSAGE OF THE ODE TO LIBERTY. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +Within a cavern of man’s trackless spirit +Is throned an Image, so intensely fair +That the adventurous thoughts that wander near it +Worship, and as they kneel, tremble and wear +The splendour of its presence, and the light _5 +Penetrates their dreamlike frame +Till they become charged with the strength of flame. + +*** + + +TO —. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +1. +I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden, +Thou needest not fear mine; +My spirit is too deeply laden +Ever to burthen thine. + +2. +I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion, _5 +Thou needest not fear mine; +Innocent is the heart’s devotion +With which I worship thine. + +*** + + +ARETHUSA. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, and dated by her +‘Pisa, 1820.’ There is a fair draft amongst the Shelley manuscripts at +the Bodleian Library. See Mr. C.D. Locock’s “Examination”, etc., 1903, +page 24.] + +1. +Arethusa arose +From her couch of snows +In the Acroceraunian mountains,— +From cloud and from crag, +With many a jag, _5 +Shepherding her bright fountains. +She leapt down the rocks, +With her rainbow locks +Streaming among the streams;— +Her steps paved with green _10 +The downward ravine +Which slopes to the western gleams; +And gliding and springing +She went, ever singing, +In murmurs as soft as sleep; _15 +The Earth seemed to love her, +And Heaven smiled above her, +As she lingered towards the deep. + +2. +Then Alpheus bold, +On his glacier cold, _20 +With his trident the mountains strook; +And opened a chasm +In the rocks—with the spasm +All Erymanthus shook. +And the black south wind _25 +It unsealed behind +The urns of the silent snow, +And earthquake and thunder +Did rend in sunder +The bars of the springs below. _30 +And the beard and the hair +Of the River-god were +Seen through the torrent’s sweep, +As he followed the light +Of the fleet nymph’s flight _35 +To the brink of the Dorian deep. + +3. +‘Oh, save me! Oh, guide me! +And bid the deep hide me, +For he grasps me now by the hair!’ +The loud Ocean heard, _40 +To its blue depth stirred, +And divided at her prayer; +And under the water +The Earth’s white daughter +Fled like a sunny beam; _45 +Behind her descended +Her billows, unblended +With the brackish Dorian stream:— +Like a gloomy stain +On the emerald main _50 +Alpheus rushed behind,— +As an eagle pursuing +A dove to its ruin +Down the streams of the cloudy wind. + +4. +Under the bowers _55 +Where the Ocean Powers +Sit on their pearled thrones; +Through the coral woods +Of the weltering floods, +Over heaps of unvalued stones; _60 +Through the dim beams +Which amid the streams +Weave a network of coloured light; +And under the caves, +Where the shadowy waves _65 +Are as green as the forest’s night:— +Outspeeding the shark, +And the sword-fish dark, +Under the Ocean’s foam, +And up through the rifts _70 +Of the mountain clifts +They passed to their Dorian home. + +5. +And now from their fountains +In Enna’s mountains, +Down one vale where the morning basks, _75 +Like friends once parted +Grown single-hearted, +They ply their watery tasks. +At sunrise they leap +From their cradles steep _80 +In the cave of the shelving hill; +At noontide they flow +Through the woods below +And the meadows of asphodel; +And at night they sleep _85 +In the rocking deep +Beneath the Ortygian shore;— +Like spirits that lie +In the azure sky +When they love but live no more. _90 + +NOTES: +_6 unsealed B.; concealed 1824. +_31 And the B.; The 1824. +_69 Ocean’s B.; ocean 1824. + +*** + + +SONG OF PROSERPINE WHILE GATHERING FLOWERS ON THE PLAIN OF ENNA. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition. There +is a fair draft amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian +Library. See Mr. C.D. Locock’s “Examination,” etc., 1903, page 24.] + +1. +Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, +Thou from whose immortal bosom +Gods, and men, and beasts have birth, +Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, +Breathe thine influence most divine _5 +On thine own child, Proserpine. + +2. +If with mists of evening dew +Thou dost nourish these young flowers +Till they grow, in scent and hue, +Fairest children of the Hours, _10 +Breathe thine influence most divine +On thine own child, Proserpine. + +*** + + +HYMN OF APOLLO. + +[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. +The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie, +Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries +From the broad moonlight of the sky, +Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes,— +Waken me when their Mother, the gray Dawn, _5 +Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone. + +2. +Then I arise, and climbing Heaven’s blue dome, +I walk over the mountains and the waves, +Leaving my robe upon the ocean foam; +My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves _10 +Are filled with my bright presence, and the air +Leaves the green Earth to my embraces bare. + +3. +The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill +Deceit, that loves the night and fears the day; +All men who do or even imagine ill _15 +Fly me, and from the glory of my ray +Good minds and open actions take new might, +Until diminished by the reign of Night. + +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 + + ‘peep and botanize + Upon his mother’s grave,’ + +does not appear to me more inexplicably framed than that of one who can +dissect and probe past woes, and repeat to the public ear the groans +drawn from them in the throes of their agony. + +The year 1821 was spent in Pisa, or at the Baths of San Giuliano. We +were not, as our wont had been, alone; friends had gathered round us. +Nearly all are dead, and, when Memory recurs to the past, she wanders +among tombs. The genius, with all his blighting errors and mighty +powers; the companion of Shelley’s ocean-wanderings, and the sharer of +his fate, than whom no man ever existed more gentle, generous, and +fearless; and others, who found in Shelley’s society, and in his great +knowledge and warm sympathy, delight, instruction, and solace; have +joined him beyond the grave. A few survive who have felt life a desert +since he left it. What misfortune can equal death? Change can convert +every other into a blessing, or heal its sting—death alone has no +cure. It shakes the foundations of the earth on which we tread; it +destroys its beauty; it casts down our shelter; it exposes us bare to +desolation. When those we love have passed into eternity, ‘life is the +desert and the solitude’ in which we are forced to linger—but never +find comfort more. + +There is much in the “Adonais” which seems now more applicable to +Shelley himself than to the young and gifted poet whom he mourned. The +poetic view he takes of death, and the lofty scorn he displays towards +his calumniators, are as a prophecy on his own destiny when received +among immortal names, and the poisonous breath of critics has vanished +into emptiness before the fame he inherits. + +Shelley’s favourite taste was boating; when living near the Thames or +by the Lake of Geneva, much of his life was spent on the water. On the +shore of every lake or stream or sea near which he dwelt, he had a boat +moored. He had latterly enjoyed this pleasure again. There are no +pleasure-boats on the Arno; and the shallowness of its waters (except +in winter-time, when the stream is too turbid and impetuous for +boating) rendered it difficult to get any skiff light enough to float. +Shelley, however, overcame the difficulty; he, together with a friend, +contrived a boat such as the huntsmen carry about with them in the +Maremma, to cross the sluggish but deep streams that intersect the +forests,—a boat of laths and pitched canvas. It held three persons; +and he was often seen on the Arno in it, to the horror of the Italians, +who remonstrated on the danger, and could not understand how anyone +could take pleasure in an exercise that risked life. ‘Ma va per la +vita!’ they exclaimed. I little thought how true their words would +prove. He once ventured, with a friend, on the glassy sea of a calm +day, down the Arno and round the coast to Leghorn, which, by keeping +close in shore, was very practicable. They returned to Pisa by the +canal, when, missing the direct cut, they got entangled among weeds, +and the boat upset; a wetting was all the harm done, except that the +intense cold of his drenched clothes made Shelley faint. Once I went +down with him to the mouth of the Arno, where the stream, then high and +swift, met the tideless sea, and disturbed its sluggish waters. It was +a waste and dreary scene; the desert sand stretched into a point +surrounded by waves that broke idly though perpetually around; it was a +scene very similar to Lido, of which he had said— + + ‘I love all waste + And solitary places; where we taste + The pleasure of believing what we see + Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be: + And such was this wide ocean, and this shore + More barren than its billows.’ + +Our little boat was of greater use, unaccompanied by any danger, when +we removed to the Baths. Some friends lived at the village of Pugnano, +four miles off, and we went to and fro to see them, in our boat, by the +canal; which, fed by the Serchio, was, though an artificial, a full and +picturesque stream, making its way under verdant banks, sheltered by +trees that dipped their boughs into the murmuring waters. By day, +multitudes of Ephemera darted to and fro on the surface; at night, the +fireflies came out among the shrubs on the banks; the cicale at +noon-day kept up their hum; the aziola cooed in the quiet evening. It +was a pleasant summer, bright in all but Shelley’s health and +inconstant spirits; yet he enjoyed himself greatly, and became more and +more attached to the part of the country where chance appeared to cast +us. Sometimes he projected taking a farm situated on the height of one +of the near hills, surrounded by chestnut and pine woods, and +overlooking a wide extent of country: or settling still farther in the +maritime Apennines, at Massa. Several of his slighter and unfinished +poems were inspired by these scenes, and by the companions around us. +It is the nature of that poetry, however, which overflows from the soul +oftener to express sorrow and regret than joy; for it is when oppressed +by the weight of life, and away from those he loves, that the poet has +recourse to the solace of expression in verse. + +Still, Shelley’s passion was the ocean; and he wished that our summers, +instead of being passed among the hills near Pisa, should be spent on +the shores of the sea. It was very difficult to find a spot. We shrank +from Naples from a fear that the heats would disagree with Percy: +Leghorn had lost its only attraction, since our friends who had resided +there were returned to England; and, Monte Nero being the resort of +many English, we did not wish to find ourselves in the midst of a +colony of chance travellers. No one then thought it possible to reside +at Via Reggio, which latterly has become a summer resort. The low lands +and bad air of Maremma stretch the whole length of the western shores +of the Mediterranean, till broken by the rocks and hills of Spezia. It +was a vague idea, but Shelley suggested an excursion to Spezia, to see +whether it would be feasible to spend a summer there. The beauty of the +bay enchanted him. We saw no house to suit us; but the notion took +root, and many circumstances, enchained as by fatality, occurred to +urge him to execute it. + +He looked forward this autumn with great pleasure to the prospect of a +visit from Leigh Hunt. When Shelley visited Lord Byron at Ravenna, the +latter had suggested his coming out, together with the plan of a +periodical work in which they should all join. Shelley saw a prospect +of good for the fortunes of his friend, and pleasure in his society; +and instantly exerted himself to have the plan executed. He did not +intend himself joining in the work: partly from pride, not wishing to +have the air of acquiring readers for his poetry by associating it with +the compositions of more popular writers; and also because he might +feel shackled in the free expression of his opinions, if any friends +were to be compromised. By those opinions, carried even to their +outermost extent, he wished to live and die, as being in his conviction +not only true, but such as alone would conduce to the moral improvement +and happiness of mankind. The sale of the work might meanwhile, either +really or supposedly, be injured by the free expression of his +thoughts; and this evil he resolved to avoid. + +*** + + +POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822. + + +THE ZUCCA. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, and dated +‘January, 1822.’ There is a copy amongst the Boscombe manuscripts.] + +1. +Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring, +And infant Winter laughed upon the land +All cloudlessly and cold;—when I, desiring +More in this world than any understand, +Wept o’er the beauty, which, like sea retiring, _5 +Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand +Of my lorn heart, and o’er the grass and flowers +Pale for the falsehood of the flattering Hours. + +2. +Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep +The instability of all but weeping; _10 +And on the Earth lulled in her winter sleep +I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping. +Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep +The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping +From unremembered dreams, shalt ... see _15 +No death divide thy immortality. + +3. +I loved—oh, no, I mean not one of ye, +Or any earthly one, though ye are dear +As human heart to human heart may be;— +I loved, I know not what—but this low sphere _20 +And all that it contains, contains not thee, +Thou, whom, seen nowhere, I feel everywhere. +From Heaven and Earth, and all that in them are, +Veiled art thou, like a ... star. + +4. +By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest, _25 +Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden; +Making divine the loftiest and the lowest, +When for a moment thou art not forbidden +To live within the life which thou bestowest; +And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden, _30 +Cold as a corpse after the spirit’s flight +Blank as the sun after the birth of night. + +5. +In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common, +In music and the sweet unconscious tone +Of animals, and voices which are human, _35 +Meant to express some feelings of their own; +In the soft motions and rare smile of woman, +In flowers and leaves, and in the grass fresh-shown, +Or dying in the autumn, I the most +Adore thee present or lament thee lost. _40 + +6. +And thus I went lamenting, when I saw +A plant upon the river’s margin lie +Like one who loved beyond his nature’s law, +And in despair had cast him down to die; +Its leaves, which had outlived the frost, the thaw _45 +Had blighted; like a heart which hatred’s eye +Can blast not, but which pity kills; the dew +Lay on its spotted leaves like tears too true. + +7. +The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth +Had crushed it on her maternal breast _50 + +... + +8. +I bore it to my chamber, and I planted +It in a vase full of the lightest mould; +The winter beams which out of Heaven slanted +Fell through the window-panes, disrobed of cold, +Upon its leaves and flowers; the stars which panted _55 +In evening for the Day, whose car has rolled +Over the horizon’s wave, with looks of light +Smiled on it from the threshold of the night. + +9. +The mitigated influences of air +And light revived the plant, and from it grew _60 +Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair, +Full as a cup with the vine’s burning dew, +O’erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere +Of vital warmth enfolded it anew, +And every impulse sent to every part +The unbeheld pulsations of its heart. _65 + +10. +Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong, +Even if the air and sun had smiled not on it; +For one wept o’er it all the winter long +Tears pure as Heaven’s rain, which fell upon it _70 +Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song +Mixed with the stringed melodies that won it +To leave the gentle lips on which it slept, +Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept. + +11. +Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers _75 +On which he wept, the while the savage storm +Waked by the darkest of December’s hours +Was raving round the chamber hushed and warm; +The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers, +The fish were frozen in the pools, the form _80 +Of every summer plant was dead +Whilst this.... + +... + +NOTES: +_7 lorn Boscombe manuscript; poor edition 1824. +_23 So Boscombe manuscript; Dim object of soul’s idolatry edition 1824. +_24 star Boscombe manuscript; wanting edition 1824. +_38 grass fresh Boscombe manuscript; fresh grass edition 1824. +_46 like Boscombe manuscript; as edition 1824. +_68 air and sun Boscombe manuscript; sun and air edition 1824. + +*** + + +THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT. + +[Published by Medwin, “The Athenaeum”, August 11, 1832. +There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.] + +1. +‘Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain; +My hand is on thy brow, +My spirit on thy brain; +My pity on thy heart, poor friend; +And from my fingers flow _5 +The powers of life, and like a sign, +Seal thee from thine hour of woe; +And brood on thee, but may not blend +With thine. + +2. +‘Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not; _10 +But when I think that he +Who made and makes my lot +As full of flowers as thine of weeds, +Might have been lost like thee; +And that a hand which was not mine _15 +Might then have charmed his agony +As I another’s—my heart bleeds +For thine. + +3. +‘Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of +The dead and the unborn _20 +Forget thy life and love; +Forget that thou must wake forever; +Forget the world’s dull scorn; +Forget lost health, and the divine +Feelings which died in youth’s brief morn; _25 +And forget me, for I can never +Be thine. + +4. +‘Like a cloud big with a May shower, +My soul weeps healing rain +On thee, thou withered flower! _30 +It breathes mute music on thy sleep +Its odour calms thy brain! +Its light within thy gloomy breast +Spreads like a second youth again. +By mine thy being is to its deep _35 +Possessed. + +5. +‘The spell is done. How feel you now?’ +‘Better—Quite well,’ replied +The sleeper.—‘What would do _39 +You good when suffering and awake? +What cure your head and side?—’ +‘What would cure, that would kill me, Jane: +And as I must on earth abide +Awhile, yet tempt me not to break +My chain.’ _45 + +NOTES; +_1, _10 Sleep Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition; + Sleep on 1832, 1839, 1st edition. +_16 charmed Trelawny manuscript; + chased 1832, editions 1839. +_21 love]woe 1832. +_42 so Trelawny manuscript + ’Twould kill me what would cure my pain 1832, editions 1839. +_44 Awhile yet, cj. A.C. Bradley. + +*** + + +LINES: ‘WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED’. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. +There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.] + +1. +When the lamp is shattered +The light in the dust lies dead— +When the cloud is scattered +The rainbow’s glory is shed. +When the lute is broken, _5 +Sweet tones are remembered not; +When the lips have spoken, +Loved accents are soon forgot. + +2. +As music and splendour +Survive not the lamp and the lute, _10 +The heart’s echoes render +No song when the spirit is mute:— +No song but sad dirges, +Like the wind through a ruined cell, +Or the mournful surges _15 +That ring the dead seaman’s knell. + +3. +When hearts have once mingled +Love first leaves the well-built nest; +The weak one is singled +To endure what it once possessed. _20 +O Love! who bewailest +The frailty of all things here, +Why choose you the frailest +For your cradle, your home, and your bier? + +4. +Its passions will rock thee _25 +As the storms rock the ravens on high; +Bright reason will mock thee, +Like the sun from a wintry sky. +From thy nest every rafter +Will rot, and thine eagle home _30 +Leave thee naked to laughter, +When leaves fall and cold winds come. + +NOTES: +_6 tones edition 1824; notes Trelawny manuscript. +_14 through edition 1824; in Trelawny manuscript. +_16 dead edition 1824; lost Trelawny manuscript. +_23 choose edition 1824; chose Trelawny manuscript. +_25-_32 wanting Trelawny manuscript. + +*** + + +TO JANE: THE INVITATION. + +[This and the following poem were published together in their original +form as one piece under the title, “The Pine Forest of the Cascine near +Pisa”, by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824; reprinted in the same +shape, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition; republished separately in +their present form, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition. There is a +copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.] + +Best and brightest, come away! +Fairer far than this fair Day, +Which, like thee to those in sorrow, +Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow +To the rough Year just awake _5 +In its cradle on the brake. +The brightest hour of unborn Spring, +Through the winter wandering, +Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn +To hoar February born, _10 +Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, +It kissed the forehead of the Earth, +And smiled upon the silent sea, +And bade the frozen streams be free, +And waked to music all their fountains, _15 +And breathed upon the frozen mountains, +And like a prophetess of May +Strewed flowers upon the barren way, +Making the wintry world appear +Like one on whom thou smilest, dear. _20 + +Away, away, from men and towns, +To the wild wood and the downs— +To the silent wilderness +Where the soul need not repress +Its music lest it should not find _25 +An echo in another’s mind, +While the touch of Nature’s art +Harmonizes heart to heart. +I leave this notice on my door +For each accustomed visitor:— _30 +‘I am gone into the fields +To take what this sweet hour yields;— +Reflection, you may come to-morrow, +Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.— +You with the unpaid bill, Despair,— +You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care,— _35 +I will pay you in the grave,— +Death will listen to your stave. +Expectation too, be off! +To-day is for itself enough; _40 +Hope, in pity mock not Woe +With smiles, nor follow where I go; +Long having lived on thy sweet food, +At length I find one moment’s good +After long pain—with all your love, _45 +This you never told me of.’ + +Radiant Sister of the Day, +Awake! arise! and come away! +To the wild woods and the plains, +And the pools where winter rains _50. +Image all their roof of leaves, +Where the pine its garland weaves +Of sapless green and ivy dun +Round stems that never kiss the sun; +Where the lawns and pastures be, _55 +And the sandhills of the sea;— +Where the melting hoar-frost wets +The daisy-star that never sets, +And wind-flowers, and violets, +Which yet join not scent to hue, _60 +Crown the pale year weak and new; +When the night is left behind +In the deep east, dun and blind, +And the blue noon is over us, +And the multitudinous _65 +Billows murmur at our feet, +Where the earth and ocean meet, +And all things seem only one +In the universal sun. + +NOTES: +_34 with Trelawny manuscript; of 1839, 2nd edition. +_44 moment’s Trelawny manuscript; moment 1839, 2nd edition. +_50 And Trelawny manuscript; To 1839, 2nd edition. +_53 dun Trelawny manuscript; dim 1839, 2nd edition. + +*** + + +TO JANE: THE RECOLLECTION. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition. +See the Editor’s prefatory note to the preceding.] + +1. +Now the last day of many days, +All beautiful and bright as thou, +The loveliest and the last, is dead, +Rise, Memory, and write its praise! +Up,—to thy wonted work! come, trace _5 +The epitaph of glory fled,— +For now the Earth has changed its face, +A frown is on the Heaven’s brow. + +2. +We wandered to the Pine Forest +That skirts the Ocean’s foam, _10 +The lightest wind was in its nest, +The tempest in its home. +The whispering waves were half asleep, +The clouds were gone to play, +And on the bosom of the deep _15 +The smile of Heaven lay; +It seemed as if the hour were one +Sent from beyond the skies, +Which scattered from above the sun +A light of Paradise. _20 + +3. +We paused amid the pines that stood +The giants of the waste, +Tortured by storms to shapes as rude +As serpents interlaced; +And, soothed by every azure breath, _25 +That under Heaven is blown, +To harmonies and hues beneath, +As tender as its own, +Now all the tree-tops lay asleep, +Like green waves on the sea, _30 +As still as in the silent deep +The ocean woods may be. + +4. +How calm it was!—the silence there +By such a chain was bound +That even the busy woodpecker _35 +Made stiller by her sound +The inviolable quietness; +The breath of peace we drew +With its soft motion made not less +The calm that round us grew. _40 +There seemed from the remotest seat +Of the white mountain waste, +To the soft flower beneath our feet, +A magic circle traced,— +A spirit interfused around _45 +A thrilling, silent life,— +To momentary peace it bound +Our mortal nature’s strife; +And still I felt the centre of +The magic circle there _50 +Was one fair form that filled with love +The lifeless atmosphere. + +5. +We paused beside the pools that lie +Under the forest bough,— +Each seemed as ’twere a little sky _55 +Gulfed in a world below; +A firmament of purple light +Which in the dark earth lay, +More boundless than the depth of night, +And purer than the day— _60 +In which the lovely forests grew, +As in the upper air, +More perfect both in shape and hue +Than any spreading there. +There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, _65 +And through the dark green wood +The white sun twinkling like the dawn +Out of a speckled cloud. +Sweet views which in our world above +Can never well be seen, _70 +Were imaged by the water’s love +Of that fair forest green. +And all was interfused beneath +With an Elysian glow, +An atmosphere without a breath, _75 +A softer day below. +Like one beloved the scene had lent +To the dark water’s breast, +Its every leaf and lineament +With more than truth expressed; _80 +Until an envious wind crept by, +Like an unwelcome thought, +Which from the mind’s too faithful eye +Blots one dear image out. +Though thou art ever fair and kind, _85 +The forests ever green, +Less oft is peace in Shelley’s mind, +Than calm in waters, seen. + +NOTES: +_6 fled edition. 1824; dead Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition. +_10 Ocean’s]Ocean 1839, 2nd edition. +_24 Interlaced, 1839; interlaced; cj. A.C. Bradley. +_28 own; 1839 own, cj. A.C. Bradley. +_42 white Trelawny manuscript; wide 1839, 2nd edition +_87 Shelley’s Trelawny manuscript; S—‘s 1839, 2nd edition.] + +*** + + +THE PINE FOREST OF THE CASCINE NEAR PISA. + +[This, the first draft of “To Jane: The Invitation, The Recollection”, +was published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, and reprinted, +“Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition. See Editor’s Prefatory Note to +“The Invitation”, above.] + +Dearest, best and brightest, +Come away, +To the woods and to the fields! +Dearer than this fairest day +Which, like thee to those in sorrow, _5 +Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow +To the rough Year just awake +In its cradle in the brake. +The eldest of the Hours of Spring, +Into the Winter wandering, _10 +Looks upon the leafless wood, +And the banks all bare and rude; +Found, it seems, this halcyon Morn +In February’s bosom born, +Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, _15 +Kissed the cold forehead of the Earth, +And smiled upon the silent sea, +And bade the frozen streams be free; +And waked to music all the fountains, +And breathed upon the rigid mountains, _20 +And made the wintry world appear +Like one on whom thou smilest, Dear. + +Radiant Sister of the Day, +Awake! arise! and come away! +To the wild woods and the plains, _25 +To the pools where winter rains +Image all the roof of leaves, +Where the pine its garland weaves +Sapless, gray, and ivy dun +Round stems that never kiss the sun— _30 +To the sandhills of the sea, +Where the earliest violets be. + +Now the last day of many days, +All beautiful and bright as thou, +The loveliest and the last, is dead, _35 +Rise, Memory, and write its praise! +And do thy wonted work and trace +The epitaph of glory fled; +For now the Earth has changed its face, +A frown is on the Heaven’s brow. _40 + +We wandered to the Pine Forest +That skirts the Ocean’s foam, +The lightest wind was in its nest, +The tempest in its home. + +The whispering waves were half asleep, _45 +The clouds were gone to play, +And on the woods, and on the deep +The smile of Heaven lay. + +It seemed as if the day were one +Sent from beyond the skies, _50 +Which shed to earth above the sun +A light of Paradise. + +We paused amid the pines that stood, +The giants of the waste, +Tortured by storms to shapes as rude _55 +With stems like serpents interlaced. + +How calm it was—the silence there +By such a chain was bound, +That even the busy woodpecker +Made stiller by her sound _60 + +The inviolable quietness; +The breath of peace we drew +With its soft motion made not less +The calm that round us grew. + +It seemed that from the remotest seat _65 +Of the white mountain’s waste +To the bright flower beneath our feet, +A magic circle traced;— + +A spirit interfused around, +A thinking, silent life; _70 +To momentary peace it bound +Our mortal nature’s strife;— + +And still, it seemed, the centre of +The magic circle there, +Was one whose being filled with love _75 +The breathless atmosphere. + +Were not the crocuses that grew +Under that ilex-tree +As beautiful in scent and hue +As ever fed the bee? _80 + +We stood beneath the pools that lie +Under the forest bough, +And each seemed like a sky +Gulfed in a world below; + +A purple firmament of light _85 +Which in the dark earth lay, +More boundless than the depth of night, +And clearer than the day— + +In which the massy forests grew +As in the upper air, _90 +More perfect both in shape and hue +Than any waving there. + +Like one beloved the scene had lent +To the dark water’s breast +Its every leaf and lineament _95 +With that clear truth expressed; + +There lay far glades and neighbouring lawn, +And through the dark green crowd +The white sun twinkling like the dawn +Under a speckled cloud. _100 + +Sweet views, which in our world above +Can never well be seen, +Were imaged by the water’s love +Of that fair forest green. + +And all was interfused beneath _105 +With an Elysian air, +An atmosphere without a breath, +A silence sleeping there. + +Until a wandering wind crept by, +Like an unwelcome thought, _110 +Which from my mind’s too faithful eye +Blots thy bright image out. + +For thou art good and dear and kind, +The forest ever green, +But less of peace in S—‘s mind, +Than calm in waters, seen. _116. + +*** + + +WITH A GUITAR, TO JANE. + +[Published by Medwin, “The Athenaeum”, October 20, 1832; “Frazer’s +Magazine”, January 1833. There is a copy amongst the Trelawny +manuscripts.] + +Ariel to Miranda:—Take +This slave of Music, for the sake +Of him who is the slave of thee, +And teach it all the harmony +In which thou canst, and only thou, _5 +Make the delighted spirit glow, +Till joy denies itself again, +And, too intense, is turned to pain; +For by permission and command +Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, _10 +Poor Ariel sends this silent token +Of more than ever can be spoken; +Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who, +From life to life, must still pursue +Your happiness;—for thus alone _15 +Can Ariel ever find his own. +From Prospero’s enchanted cell, +As the mighty verses tell, +To the throne of Naples, he +Lit you o’er the trackless sea, _20 +Flitting on, your prow before, +Like a living meteor. +When you die, the silent Moon, +In her interlunar swoon, +Is not sadder in her cell +Than deserted Ariel. +When you live again on earth, +Like an unseen star of birth, +Ariel guides you o’er the sea +Of life from your nativity. _30 +Many changes have been run +Since Ferdinand and you begun +Your course of love, and Ariel still +Has tracked your steps, and served your will; +Now, in humbler, happier lot, _35 +This is all remembered not; +And now, alas! the poor sprite is +Imprisoned, for some fault of his, +In a body like a grave;— +From you he only dares to crave, _40 +For his service and his sorrow, +A smile today, a song tomorrow. + +The artist who this idol wrought, +To echo all harmonious thought, +Felled a tree, while on the steep _45 +The woods were in their winter sleep, +Rocked in that repose divine +On the wind-swept Apennine; +And dreaming, some of Autumn past, +And some of Spring approaching fast, _50 +And some of April buds and showers, +And some of songs in July bowers, +And all of love; and so this tree,— +O that such our death may be!— +Died in sleep, and felt no pain, _55 +To live in happier form again: +From which, beneath Heaven’s fairest star, +The artist wrought this loved Guitar, +And taught it justly to reply, +To all who question skilfully, _60 +In language gentle as thine own; +Whispering in enamoured tone +Sweet oracles of woods and dells, +And summer winds in sylvan cells; +For it had learned all harmonies _65 +Of the plains and of the skies, +Of the forests and the mountains, +And the many-voiced fountains; +The clearest echoes of the hills, +The softest notes of falling rills, _70 +The melodies of birds and bees, +The murmuring of summer seas, +And pattering rain, and breathing dew, +And airs of evening; and it knew +That seldom-heard mysterious sound, _75 +Which, driven on its diurnal round, +As it floats through boundless day, +Our world enkindles on its way.— +All this it knows, but will not tell +To those who cannot question well _80 +The Spirit that inhabits it; +It talks according to the wit +Of its companions; and no more +Is heard than has been felt before, +By those who tempt it to betray _85 +These secrets of an elder day: +But, sweetly as its answers will +Flatter hands of perfect skill, +It keeps its highest, holiest tone +For our beloved Jane alone. _90 + +NOTES: +_12 Of more than ever]Of love that never 1833. +_46 woods Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition; + winds 1832, 1833, 1839, 1st edition. +_58 this Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition; + that 1832, 1833, 1839, 1st edition. +_61 thine own Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition; + its own 1832, 1833, 1839, 1st edition. +_76 on Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition; + in 1832, 1833, 1839, 1st edition. +_90 Jane Trelawny manuscript; friend 1832, 1833, editions 1839. + +*** + + +TO JANE: ‘THE KEEN STARS WERE TWINKLING’. + +[Published in part (lines 7-24) by Medwin (under the title, “An Ariette +for Music. To a Lady singing to her Accompaniment on the Guitar”), “The +Athenaeum”, November 17, 1832; reprinted by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical +Works”, 1839, 1st edition. Republished in full (under the title, To +—.), “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition. The Trelawny manuscript is +headed “To Jane”. Mr. C.W. Frederickson of Brooklyn possesses a +transcript in an unknown hand.] + +1. +The keen stars were twinkling, +And the fair moon was rising among them, +Dear Jane! +The guitar was tinkling, +But the notes were not sweet till you sung them _5 +Again. + +2. +As the moon’s soft splendour +O’er the faint cold starlight of Heaven +Is thrown, +So your voice most tender _10 +To the strings without soul had then given +Its own. + +3. +The stars will awaken, +Though the moon sleep a full hour later, +To-night; _15 +No leaf will be shaken +Whilst the dews of your melody scatter +Delight. + +4. +Though the sound overpowers, +Sing again, with your dear voice revealing _20 +A tone +Of some world far from ours, +Where music and moonlight and feeling +Are one. + +NOTES: +_3 Dear *** 1839, 2nd edition. +_7 soft]pale Fred. manuscript. +_10 your 1839, 2nd edition.; + thy 1832, 1839, 1st edition, Fred. manuscript. +_11 had then 1839, 2nd edition; has 1832, 1839, 1st edition; + hath Fred. manuscript. +_12 Its]Thine Fred. manuscript. +_17 your 1839, 2nd edition; + thy 1832, 1839, 1st edition, Fred. manuscript. +_19 sound]song Fred. manuscript. +_20 your dear 1839, 2nd edition; thy sweet 1832, 1839, 1st edition; + thy soft Fred. manuscript. + +*** + + +A DIRGE. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +Rough wind, that moanest loud +Grief too sad for song; +Wild wind, when sullen cloud +Knells all the night long; +Sad storm whose tears are vain, _5 +Bare woods, whose branches strain, +Deep caves and dreary main,— +Wail, for the world’s wrong! + +NOTE: +_6 strain cj. Rossetti; stain edition 1824. + +*** + + +LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY OF LERICI. + +[Published from the Boscombe manuscripts by Dr. Garnett, “Macmillan’s +Magazine”, June, 1862; reprinted, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +She left me at the silent time +When the moon had ceased to climb +The azure path of Heaven’s steep, +And like an albatross asleep, +Balanced on her wings of light, _5 +Hovered in the purple night, +Ere she sought her ocean nest +In the chambers of the West. +She left me, and I stayed alone +Thinking over every tone _10 +Which, though silent to the ear, +The enchanted heart could hear, +Like notes which die when born, but still +Haunt the echoes of the hill; +And feeling ever—oh, too much!— _15 +The soft vibration of her touch, +As if her gentle hand, even now, +Lightly trembled on my brow; +And thus, although she absent were, +Memory gave me all of her _20 +That even Fancy dares to claim:— +Her presence had made weak and tame +All passions, and I lived alone +In the time which is our own; +The past and future were forgot, _25 +As they had been, and would be, not. +But soon, the guardian angel gone, +The daemon reassumed his throne +In my faint heart. I dare not speak +My thoughts, but thus disturbed and weak _30 +I sat and saw the vessels glide +Over the ocean bright and wide, +Like spirit-winged chariots sent +O’er some serenest element +For ministrations strange and far; _35 +As if to some Elysian star +Sailed for drink to medicine +Such sweet and bitter pain as mine. +And the wind that winged their flight +From the land came fresh and light, _40 +And the scent of winged flowers, +And the coolness of the hours +Of dew, and sweet warmth left by day, +Were scattered o’er the twinkling bay. +And the fisher with his lamp _45 +And spear about the low rocks damp +Crept, and struck the fish which came +To worship the delusive flame. +Too happy they, whose pleasure sought +Extinguishes all sense and thought _50 +Of the regret that pleasure leaves, +Destroying life alone, not peace! + +NOTES: +_11 though silent Relics 1862; though now silent Mac. Mag. 1862. +_31 saw Relics 1862; watched Mac. Mag. 1862. + +*** + + +LINES: ‘WE MEET NOT AS WE PARTED’. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +1. +We meet not as we parted, +We feel more than all may see; +My bosom is heavy-hearted, +And thine full of doubt for me:— +One moment has bound the free. _5 + +2. +That moment is gone for ever, +Like lightning that flashed and died— +Like a snowflake upon the river— +Like a sunbeam upon the tide, +Which the dark shadows hide. _10 + +3. +That moment from time was singled +As the first of a life of pain; +The cup of its joy was mingled +—Delusion too sweet though vain! +Too sweet to be mine again. _15 + +4. +Sweet lips, could my heart have hidden +That its life was crushed by you, +Ye would not have then forbidden +The death which a heart so true +Sought in your briny dew. _20 + +5. +... +... +... +Methinks too little cost +For a moment so found, so lost! _25 + +*** + + +THE ISLE. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +There was a little lawny islet +By anemone and violet, +Like mosaic, paven: +And its roof was flowers and leaves +Which the summer’s breath enweaves, _5 +Where nor sun nor showers nor breeze +Pierce the pines and tallest trees, +Each a gem engraven;— +Girt by many an azure wave +With which the clouds and mountains pave _10 +A lake’s blue chasm. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: TO THE MOON. + +[Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.] + +Bright wanderer, fair coquette of Heaven, +To whom alone it has been given +To change and be adored for ever, +Envy not this dim world, for never +But once within its shadow grew _5 +One fair as— + +*** + + +EPITAPH. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +These are two friends whose lives were undivided; +So let their memory be, now they have glided +Under the grave; let not their bones be parted, +For their two hearts in life were single-hearted. + +*** + + +NOTE ON POEMS OF 1822, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + + This morn thy gallant bark + Sailed on a sunny sea: + ’Tis noon, and tempests dark + Have wrecked it on the lee. + Ah woe! ah woe! + By Spirits of the deep + Thou’rt cradled on the billow + To thy eternal sleep. + + Thou sleep’st upon the shore + Beside the knelling surge, + And Sea-nymphs evermore + Shall sadly chant thy dirge. + They come, they come, + The Spirits of the deep,— + While near thy seaweed pillow + My lonely watch I keep. + + From far across the sea + I hear a loud lament, + By Echo’s voice for thee + From Ocean’s caverns sent. + O list! O list! + The Spirits of the deep! + They raise a wail of sorrow, + While I forever weep. + +With this last year of the life of Shelley these Notes end. They are +not what I intended them to be. I began with energy, and a burning +desire to impart to the world, in worthy language, the sense I have of +the virtues and genius of the beloved and the lost; my strength has +failed under the task. Recurrence to the past, full of its own deep and +unforgotten joys and sorrows, contrasted with succeeding years of +painful and solitary struggle, has shaken my health. Days of great +suffering have followed my attempts to write, and these again produced +a weakness and languor that spread their sinister influence over these +notes. I dislike speaking of myself, but cannot help apologizing to the +dead, and to the public, for not having executed in the manner I +desired the history I engaged to give of Shelley’s writings. (I at one +time feared that the correction of the press might be less exact +through my illness; but I believe that it is nearly free from error. +Some asterisks occur in a few pages, as they did in the volume of +“Posthumous Poems”, either because they refer to private concerns, or +because the original manuscript was left imperfect. Did any one see the +papers from which I drew that volume, the wonder would be how any eyes +or patience were capable of extracting it from so confused a mass, +interlined and broken into fragments, so that the sense could only be +deciphered and joined by guesses which might seem rather intuitive than +founded on reasoning. Yet I believe no mistake was made.) + +The winter of 1822 was passed in Pisa, if we might call that season +winter in which autumn merged into spring after the interval of but few +days of bleaker weather. Spring sprang up early, and with extreme +beauty. Shelley had conceived the idea of writing a tragedy on the +subject of Charles I. It was one that he believed adapted for a drama; +full of intense interest, contrasted character, and busy passion. He +had recommended it long before, when he encouraged me to attempt a +play. Whether the subject proved more difficult than he anticipated, or +whether in fact he could not bend his mind away from the broodings and +wanderings of thought, divested from human interest, which he best +loved, I cannot tell; but he proceeded slowly, and threw it aside for +one of the most mystical of his poems, the “Triumph of Life”, on which +he was employed at the last. + +His passion for boating was fostered at this time by having among our +friends several sailors. His favourite companion, Edward Ellerker +Williams, of the 8th Light Dragoons, had begun his life in the navy, +and had afterwards entered the army; he had spent several years in +India, and his love for adventure and manly exercises accorded with +Shelley’s taste. It was their favourite plan to build a boat such as +they could manage themselves, and, living on the sea-coast, to enjoy at +every hour and season the pleasure they loved best. Captain Roberts, +R.N., undertook to build the boat at Genoa, where he was also occupied +in building the “Bolivar” for Lord Byron. Ours was to be an open boat, +on a model taken from one of the royal dockyards. I have since heard +that there was a defect in this model, and that it was never seaworthy. +In the month of February, Shelley and his friend went to Spezia to seek +for houses for us. Only one was to be found at all suitable; however, a +trifle such as not finding a house could not stop Shelley; the one +found was to serve for all. It was unfurnished; we sent our furniture +by sea, and with a good deal of precipitation, arising from his +impatience, made our removal. We left Pisa on the 26th of April. + +The Bay of Spezia is of considerable extent, and divided by a rocky +promontory into a larger and smaller one. The town of Lerici is +situated on the eastern point, and in the depth of the smaller bay, +which bears the name of this town, is the village of San Terenzo. Our +house, Casa Magni, was close to this village; the sea came up to the +door, a steep hill sheltered it behind. The proprietor of the estate on +which it was situated was insane; he had begun to erect a large house +at the summit of the hill behind, but his malady prevented its being +finished, and it was falling into ruin. He had (and this to the +Italians had seemed a glaring symptom of very decided madness) rooted +up the olives on the hillside, and planted forest trees. These were +mostly young, but the plantation was more in English taste than I ever +elsewhere saw in Italy; some fine walnut and ilex trees intermingled +their dark massy foliage, and formed groups which still haunt my +memory, as then they satiated the eye with a sense of loveliness. The +scene was indeed of unimaginable beauty. The blue extent of waters, the +almost landlocked bay, the near castle of Lerici shutting it in to the +east, and distant Porto Venere to the west; the varied forms of the +precipitous rocks that bound in the beach, over which there was only a +winding rugged footpath towards Lerici, and none on the other side; the +tideless sea leaving no sands nor shingle, formed a picture such as one +sees in Salvator Rosa’s landscapes only. Sometimes the sunshine +vanished when the sirocco raged—the ‘ponente’ the wind was called on +that shore. The gales and squalls that hailed our first arrival +surrounded the bay with foam; the howling wind swept round our exposed +house, and the sea roared unremittingly, so that we almost fancied +ourselves on board ship. At other times sunshine and calm invested sea +and sky, and the rich tints of Italian heaven bathed the scene in +bright and ever-varying tints. + +The natives were wilder than the place. Our near neighbours of San +Terenzo were more like savages than any people I ever before lived +among. Many a night they passed on the beach, singing, or rather +howling; the women dancing about among the waves that broke at their +feet, the men leaning against the rocks and joining in their loud wild +chorus. We could get no provisions nearer than Sarzana, at a distance +of three miles and a half off, with the torrent of the Magra between; +and even there the supply was very deficient. Had we been wrecked on an +island of the South Seas, we could scarcely have felt ourselves farther +from civilisation and comfort; but, where the sun shines, the latter +becomes an unnecessary luxury, and we had enough society among +ourselves. Yet I confess housekeeping became rather a toilsome task, +especially as I was suffering in my health, and could not exert myself +actively. + +At first the fatal boat had not arrived, and was expected with great +impatience. On Monday, 12th May, it came. Williams records the +long-wished-for fact in his journal: ‘Cloudy and threatening weather. +M. Maglian called; and after dinner, and while walking with him on the +terrace, we discovered a strange sail coming round the point of Porto +Venere, which proved at length to be Shelley’s boat. She had left Genoa +on Thursday last, but had been driven back by the prevailing bad winds. +A Mr. Heslop and two English seamen brought her round, and they speak +most highly of her performances. She does indeed excite my surprise and +admiration. Shelley and I walked to Lerici, and made a stretch off the +land to try her: and I find she fetches whatever she looks at. In +short, we have now a perfect plaything for the summer.’—It was thus +that short-sighted mortals welcomed Death, he having disguised his grim +form in a pleasing mask! The time of the friends was now spent on the +sea; the weather became fine, and our whole party often passed the +evenings on the water when the wind promised pleasant sailing. Shelley +and Williams made longer excursions; they sailed several times to +Massa. They had engaged one of the seamen who brought her round, a boy, +by name Charles Vivian; and they had not the slightest apprehension of +danger. When the weather was unfavourable, they employed themselves +with alterations in the rigging, and by building a boat of canvas and +reeds, as light as possible, to have on board the other for the +convenience of landing in waters too shallow for the larger vessel. +When Shelley was on board, he had his papers with him; and much of the +“Triumph of Life” was written as he sailed or weltered on that sea +which was soon to engulf him. + +The heats set in in the middle of June; the days became excessively +hot. But the sea-breeze cooled the air at noon, and extreme heat always +put Shelley in spirits. A long drought had preceded the heat; and +prayers for rain were being put up in the churches, and processions of +relics for the same effect took place in every town. At this time we +received letters announcing the arrival of Leigh Hunt at Genoa. Shelley +was very eager to see him. I was confined to my room by severe illness, +and could not move; it was agreed that Shelley and Williams should go +to Leghorn in the boat. Strange that no fear of danger crossed our +minds! Living on the sea-shore, the ocean became as a plaything: as a +child may sport with a lighted stick, till a spark inflames a forest, +and spreads destruction over all, so did we fearlessly and blindly +tamper with danger, and make a game of the terrors of the ocean. Our +Italian neighbours, even, trusted themselves as far as Massa in the +skiff; and the running down the line of coast to Leghorn gave no more +notion of peril than a fair-weather inland navigation would have done +to those who had never seen the sea. Once, some months before, Trelawny +had raised a warning voice as to the difference of our calm bay and the +open sea beyond; but Shelley and his friend, with their one sailor-boy, +thought themselves a match for the storms of the Mediterranean, in a +boat which they looked upon as equal to all it was put to do. + +On the 1st of July they left us. If ever shadow of future ill darkened +the present hour, such was over my mind when they went. During the +whole of our stay at Lerici, an intense presentiment of coming evil +brooded over my mind, and covered this beautiful place and genial +summer with the shadow of coming misery. I had vainly struggled with +these emotions—they seemed accounted for by my illness; but at this +hour of separation they recurred with renewed violence. I did not +anticipate danger for them, but a vague expectation of evil shook me to +agony, and I could scarcely bring myself to let them go. The day was +calm and clear; and, a fine breeze rising at twelve, they weighed for +Leghorn. They made the run of about fifty miles in seven hours and a +half. The “Bolivar” was in port; and, the regulations of the +Health-office not permitting them to go on shore after sunset, they +borrowed cushions from the larger vessel, and slept on board their +boat. + +They spent a week at Pisa and Leghorn. The want of rain was severely +felt in the country. The weather continued sultry and fine. I have +heard that Shelley all this time was in brilliant spirits. Not long +before, talking of presentiment, he had said the only one that he ever +found infallible was the certain advent of some evil fortune when he +felt peculiarly joyous. Yet, if ever fate whispered of coming disaster, +such inaudible but not unfelt prognostics hovered around us. The beauty +of the place seemed unearthly in its excess: the distance we were at +from all signs of civilization, the sea at our feet, its murmurs or its +roaring for ever in our ears,—all these things led the mind to brood +over strange thoughts, and, lifting it from everyday life, caused it to +be familiar with the unreal. A sort of spell surrounded us; and each +day, as the voyagers did not return, we grew restless and disquieted, +and yet, strange to say, we were not fearful of the most apparent +danger. + +The spell snapped; it was all over; an interval of agonizing doubt—of +days passed in miserable journeys to gain tidings, of hopes that took +firmer root even as they were more baseless—was changed to the +certainty of the death that eclipsed all happiness for the survivors +for evermore. + +There was something in our fate peculiarly harrowing. The remains of +those we lost were cast on shore; but, by the quarantine-laws of the +coast, we were not permitted to have possession of them—the law with +respect to everything cast on land by the sea being that such should be +burned, to prevent the possibility of any remnant bringing the plague +into Italy; and no representation could alter the law. At length, +through the kind and unwearied exertions of Mr. Dawkins, our Charge +d’Affaires at Florence, we gained permission to receive the ashes after +the bodies were consumed. Nothing could equal the zeal of Trelawny in +carrying our wishes into effect. He was indefatigable in his exertions, +and full of forethought and sagacity in his arrangements. It was a +fearful task; he stood before us at last, his hands scorched and +blistered by the flames of the funeral-pyre, and by touching the burnt +relics as he placed them in the receptacles prepared for the purpose. +And there, in compass of that small case, was gathered all that +remained on earth of him whose genius and virtue were a crown of glory +to the world—whose love had been the source of happiness, peace, and +good,—to be buried with him! + +The concluding stanzas of the “Adonais” pointed out where the remains +ought to be deposited; in addition to which our beloved child lay +buried in the cemetery at Rome. Thither Shelley’s ashes were conveyed; +and they rest beneath one of the antique weed-grown towers that recur +at intervals in the circuit of the massy ancient wall of Rome. He +selected the hallowed place himself; there is + + ‘the sepulchre, + Oh, not of him, but of our joy!— + ... + And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time + Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand; + And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, + Pavilioning the dust of him who planned + This refuge for his memory, doth stand + Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath, + A field is spread, on which a newer band + Have pitched in Heaven’s smile their camp of death, + Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath.’ + +Could sorrow for the lost, and shuddering anguish at the vacancy left +behind, be soothed by poetic imaginations, there was something in +Shelley’s fate to mitigate pangs which yet, alas! could not be so +mitigated; for hard reality brings too miserably home to the mourner +all that is lost of happiness, all of lonely unsolaced struggle that +remains. Still, though dreams and hues of poetry cannot blunt grief, it +invests his fate with a sublime fitness, which those less nearly allied +may regard with complacency. A year before he had poured into verse all +such ideas about death as give it a glory of its own. He had, as it now +seems, almost anticipated his own destiny; and, when the mind figures +his skiff wrapped from sight by the thunder-storm, as it was last seen +upon the purple sea, and then, as the cloud of the tempest passed away, +no sign remained of where it had been (Captain Roberts watched the +vessel with his glass from the top of the lighthouse of Leghorn, on its +homeward track. They were off Via Reggio, at some distance from shore, +when a storm was driven over the sea. It enveloped them and several +larger vessels in darkness. When the cloud passed onwards, Roberts +looked again, and saw every other vessel sailing on the ocean except +their little schooner, which had vanished. From that time he could +scarcely doubt the fatal truth; yet we fancied that they might have +been driven towards Elba or Corsica, and so be saved. The observation +made as to the spot where the boat disappeared caused it to be found, +through the exertions of Trelawny for that effect. It had gone down in +ten fathom water; it had not capsized, and, except such things as had +floated from her, everything was found on board exactly as it had been +placed when they sailed. The boat itself was uninjured. Roberts +possessed himself of her, and decked her; but she proved not seaworthy, +and her shattered planks now lie rotting on the shore of one of the +Ionian islands, on which she was wrecked.)—who but will regard as a +prophecy the last stanza of the “Adonais”? + + ‘The breath whose might I have invoked in song + Descends on me; my spirit’s bark is driven, + Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng + Whose sails were never to the tempest given; + The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! + I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; + Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, + The soul of Adonais, like a star, + Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.’ + +Putney, May 1, 1839. + + + + + + + + + + +THE COMPLETE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY + +VOLUME 3 + +OXFORD EDITION. +INCLUDING MATERIALS NEVER BEFORE +PRINTED IN ANY EDITION OF THE POEMS. + +EDITED WITH TEXTUAL NOTES + +BY + +THOMAS HUTCHINSON, M. A. +EDITOR OF THE OXFORD WORDSWORTH. + +1914. + + +CONTENTS. + + +TRANSLATIONS. + +HYMN TO MERCURY. TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER. + +HOMER’S HYMN TO CASTOR AND POLLUX. + +HOMER’S HYMN TO THE MOON. + +HOMER’S HYMN TO THE SUN. + +HOMER’S HYMN TO THE EARTH: MOTHER OF ALL. + +HOMER’S HYMN TO MINERVA. + +HOMER’S HYMN TO VENUS. + +THE CYCLOPS: A SATYRIC DRAMA. TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. + +EPIGRAMS: + +1. TO STELLA. FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. + +2. KISSING HELENA. FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. + +3. SPIRIT OF PLATO. FROM THE GREEK. + +4. CIRCUMSTANCE. FROM THE GREEK. + +FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS. FROM THE GREEK OF BION. + +FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BION. FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. + +FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. + +PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR. FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. + +FROM VERGIL’S TENTH ECLOGUE. + +THE SAME. + +FROM VERGIL’S FOURTH GEORGIC. + +SONNET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. + +THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE “CONVITO”. FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. + +MATILDA GATHERING FLOWERS. FROM THE “PURGATORIO” OF DANTE. + +FRAGMENT. ADAPTED FROM THE “VITA NUOVA” OF DANTE. + +UGOLINO. “INFERNO”, 33, 22-75, TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY. + +SONNET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI. + +SCENES FROM THE “MAGICO PRODIGIOSO”. FROM THE SPANISH OF CALDERON. + +STANZAS FROM CALDERON’S “CISMA DE INGLETERRA”. + +SCENES FROM THE “FAUST” OF GOETHE. + +JUVENILIA. + +QUEEN MAB. A PHILOSOPHICAL POEM. +TO HARRIET ******. +QUEEN MAB. +SHELLEY’S NOTES. +NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +VERSES ON A CAT. + +FRAGMENT: OMENS. + +EPITAPHIUM [LATIN VERSION OF THE EPITAPH IN GRAY’S “ELEGY”]. + +IN HOROLOGIUM. + +A DIALOGUE. + +TO THE MOONBEAM. + +THE SOLITARY. + +TO DEATH. + +LOVE’S ROSE. + +EYES: A FRAGMENT. + +ORIGINAL POETRY BY VICTOR AND CAZIRE. + +1. ‘HERE I SIT WITH MY PAPER, MY PEN AND MY INK’. + +2. TO MISS — — [HARRIET GROVE] FROM MISS — — [ELIZABETH SHELLEY]. + +3. SONG: ‘COLD, COLD IS THE BLAST’. + +4. SONG: ‘COME [HARRIET]! SWEET IS THE HOUR’. + +5. SONG: DESPAIR. + +6. SONG: SORROW. + +7. SONG: HOPE. + +8. SONG: TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN. + +9. SONG: TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. + +10. THE IRISHMAN’S SONG. + +11. SONG: ‘FIERCE ROARS THE MIDNIGHT STORM’. + +12. SONG: TO — [HARRIET]. + +13. SONG: TO — [HARRIET]. + +14. SAINT EDMOND’S EVE. + +15. REVENGE. + +16. GHASTA; OR, THE AVENGING DEMON. + +17. FRAGMENT; OR, THE TRIUMPH OF CONSCIENCE. + +POEMS FROM ST. IRVYNE; OR, THE ROSICRUCIAN. + +1. VICTORIA. + +2. ‘ON THE DARK HEIGHT OF JURA’. + +3. SISTER ROSA. A BALLAD. + +4. ST. IRVYNE’S TOWER. + +5. BEREAVEMENT. + +6. THE DROWNED LOVER. + +POSTHUMOUS FRAGMENTS OF MARGARET NICHOLSON. + +ADVERTISEMENT. + +WAR. + +FRAGMENT: SUPPOSED TO BE AN EPITHALAMIUM OF +FRANCIS RAVAILLAC AND CHARLOTTE CORDAY. + +DESPAIR. + +FRAGMENT. + +THE SPECTRAL HORSEMAN. + +MELODY TO A SCENE OF FORMER TIMES. + +STANZA FROM A TRANSLATION OF THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN. + +BIGOTRY’S VICTIM. + +ON AN ICICLE THAT CLUNG TO THE GRASS OF A GRAVE. + +LOVE. + +ON A FETE AT CARLTON HOUSE: FRAGMENT. + +TO A STAR. + +TO MARY, WHO DIED IN THIS OPINION. + +A TALE OF SOCIETY AS IT IS: FROM FACTS, 1811. + +TO THE REPUBLICANS OF NORTH AMERICA. + +TO IRELAND. + +ON ROBERT EMMET’S GRAVE. + +THE RETROSPECT: CWM ELAN, 1812. + +FRAGMENT OF A SONNET: TO HARRIET. + +TO HARRIET. + +SONNET: TO A BALLOON LADEN WITH KNOWLEDGE. + +SONNET: ON LAUNCHING SOME BOTTLES FILLED WITH KNOWLEDGE INTO THE +BRISTOL CHANNEL. + +THE DEVIL’S WALK. + +FRAGMENT OF A SONNET: FAREWELL TO NORTH DEVON. + +ON LEAVING LONDON FOR WALES. + +THE WANDERING JEW’S SOLILOQUY. + +EVENING: TO HARRIET. + +TO IANTHE. + +SONG FROM THE WANDERING JEW. + +FRAGMENT FROM THE WANDERING JEW. + +TO THE QUEEN OF MY HEART. + + +EDITOR’S NOTES. + + +BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST OF EDITIONS. + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES. + + +*** + + +TRANSLATIONS. + +[Of the Translations that follow a few were published by Shelley +himself, others by Mrs. Shelley in the “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, or the +“Poetical Works”, 1839, and the remainder by Medwin (1834, 1847), +Garnett (1862), Rossetti (1870), Forman (1876) and Locock (1903) from +the manuscript originals. Shelley’s “Translations” fall between the +years 1818 and 1822.] + + +HYMN TO MERCURY. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. This alone of the +“Translations” is included in the Harvard manuscript book. ‘Fragments of +the drafts of this and the other Hymns of Homer exist among the Boscombe +manuscripts’ (Forman).] + +1. +Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove, +The Herald-child, king of Arcadia +And all its pastoral hills, whom in sweet love +Having been interwoven, modest May +Bore Heaven’s dread Supreme. An antique grove _5 +Shadowed the cavern where the lovers lay +In the deep night, unseen by Gods or Men, +And white-armed Juno slumbered sweetly then. + +2. +Now, when the joy of Jove had its fulfilling, +And Heaven’s tenth moon chronicled her relief, _10 +She gave to light a babe all babes excelling, +A schemer subtle beyond all belief; +A shepherd of thin dreams, a cow-stealing, +A night-watching, and door-waylaying thief, +Who ‘mongst the Gods was soon about to thieve, _15 +And other glorious actions to achieve. + +3. +The babe was born at the first peep of day; +He began playing on the lyre at noon, +And the same evening did he steal away +Apollo’s herds;—the fourth day of the moon _20 +On which him bore the venerable May, +From her immortal limbs he leaped full soon, +Nor long could in the sacred cradle keep, +But out to seek Apollo’s herds would creep. + +4. +Out of the lofty cavern wandering _25 +He found a tortoise, and cried out—‘A treasure!’ +(For Mercury first made the tortoise sing) +The beast before the portal at his leisure +The flowery herbage was depasturing, +Moving his feet in a deliberate measure _30 +Over the turf. Jove’s profitable son +Eying him laughed, and laughing thus begun:— + +5. +‘A useful godsend are you to me now, +King of the dance, companion of the feast, +Lovely in all your nature! Welcome, you _35 +Excellent plaything! Where, sweet mountain-beast, +Got you that speckled shell? Thus much I know, +You must come home with me and be my guest; +You will give joy to me, and I will do +All that is in my power to honour you. _40 + +6. +‘Better to be at home than out of door, +So come with me; and though it has been said +That you alive defend from magic power, +I know you will sing sweetly when you’re dead.’ +Thus having spoken, the quaint infant bore, _45 +Lifting it from the grass on which it fed +And grasping it in his delighted hold, +His treasured prize into the cavern old. + +7. +Then scooping with a chisel of gray steel, +He bored the life and soul out of the beast.— _50 +Not swifter a swift thought of woe or weal +Darts through the tumult of a human breast +Which thronging cares annoy—not swifter wheel +The flashes of its torture and unrest +Out of the dizzy eyes—than Maia’s son _55 +All that he did devise hath featly done. + +8. +... +And through the tortoise’s hard stony skin +At proper distances small holes he made, +And fastened the cut stems of reeds within, +And with a piece of leather overlaid _60 +The open space and fixed the cubits in, +Fitting the bridge to both, and stretched o’er all +Symphonious cords of sheep-gut rhythmical. + +9. +When he had wrought the lovely instrument, +He tried the chords, and made division meet, _65 +Preluding with the plectrum, and there went +Up from beneath his hand a tumult sweet +Of mighty sounds, and from his lips he sent +A strain of unpremeditated wit +Joyous and wild and wanton—such you may _70 +Hear among revellers on a holiday. + +10. +He sung how Jove and May of the bright sandal +Dallied in love not quite legitimate; +And his own birth, still scoffing at the scandal, +And naming his own name, did celebrate; _75 +His mother’s cave and servant maids he planned all +In plastic verse, her household stuff and state, +Perennial pot, trippet, and brazen pan,— +But singing, he conceived another plan. + +11. +... +Seized with a sudden fancy for fresh meat, _80 +He in his sacred crib deposited +The hollow lyre, and from the cavern sweet +Rushed with great leaps up to the mountain’s head, +Revolving in his mind some subtle feat +Of thievish craft, such as a swindler might _85 +Devise in the lone season of dun night. + +12. +Lo! the great Sun under the ocean’s bed has +Driven steeds and chariot—the child meanwhile strode +O’er the Pierian mountains clothed in shadows, +Where the immortal oxen of the God _90 +Are pastured in the flowering unmown meadows, +And safely stalled in a remote abode.— +The archer Argicide, elate and proud, +Drove fifty from the herd, lowing aloud. + +13. +He drove them wandering o’er the sandy way, _95 +But, being ever mindful of his craft, +Backward and forward drove he them astray, +So that the tracks which seemed before, were aft; +His sandals then he threw to the ocean spray, +And for each foot he wrought a kind of raft _100 +Of tamarisk, and tamarisk-like sprigs, +And bound them in a lump with withy twigs. + +14. +And on his feet he tied these sandals light, +The trail of whose wide leaves might not betray +His track; and then, a self-sufficing wight, _105 +Like a man hastening on some distant way, +He from Pieria’s mountain bent his flight; +But an old man perceived the infant pass +Down green Onchestus heaped like beds with grass. + +15. +The old man stood dressing his sunny vine: _110 +‘Halloo! old fellow with the crooked shoulder! +You grub those stumps? before they will bear wine +Methinks even you must grow a little older: +Attend, I pray, to this advice of mine, +As you would ‘scape what might appal a bolder— _115 +Seeing, see not—and hearing, hear not—and— +If you have understanding—understand.’ + +16. +So saying, Hermes roused the oxen vast; +O’er shadowy mountain and resounding dell, +And flower-paven plains, great Hermes passed; _120 +Till the black night divine, which favouring fell +Around his steps, grew gray, and morning fast +Wakened the world to work, and from her cell +Sea-strewn, the Pallantean Moon sublime +Into her watch-tower just began to climb. _125 + +17. +Now to Alpheus he had driven all +The broad-foreheaded oxen of the Sun; +They came unwearied to the lofty stall +And to the water-troughs which ever run +Through the fresh fields—and when with rushgrass tall, _130 +Lotus and all sweet herbage, every one +Had pastured been, the great God made them move +Towards the stall in a collected drove. + +18. +A mighty pile of wood the God then heaped, +And having soon conceived the mystery _135 +Of fire, from two smooth laurel branches stripped +The bark, and rubbed them in his palms;—on high +Suddenly forth the burning vapour leaped +And the divine child saw delightedly.— +Mercury first found out for human weal _140 +Tinder-box, matches, fire-irons, flint and steel. + +19. +And fine dry logs and roots innumerous +He gathered in a delve upon the ground— +And kindled them—and instantaneous +The strength of the fierce flame was breathed around: _145 +And whilst the might of glorious Vulcan thus +Wrapped the great pile with glare and roaring sound, +Hermes dragged forth two heifers, lowing loud, +Close to the fire—such might was in the God. + +20. +And on the earth upon their backs he threw _150 +The panting beasts, and rolled them o’er and o’er, +And bored their lives out. Without more ado +He cut up fat and flesh, and down before +The fire, on spits of wood he placed the two, +Toasting their flesh and ribs, and all the gore _155 +Pursed in the bowels; and while this was done +He stretched their hides over a craggy stone. + +21. +We mortals let an ox grow old, and then +Cut it up after long consideration,— +But joyous-minded Hermes from the glen _160 +Drew the fat spoils to the more open station +Of a flat smooth space, and portioned them; and when +He had by lot assigned to each a ration +Of the twelve Gods, his mind became aware +Of all the joys which in religion are. _165 + +22. +For the sweet savour of the roasted meat +Tempted him though immortal. Natheless +He checked his haughty will and did not eat, +Though what it cost him words can scarce express, +And every wish to put such morsels sweet _170 +Down his most sacred throat, he did repress; +But soon within the lofty portalled stall +He placed the fat and flesh and bones and all. + +23. +And every trace of the fresh butchery +And cooking, the God soon made disappear, _175 +As if it all had vanished through the sky; +He burned the hoofs and horns and head and hair,— +The insatiate fire devoured them hungrily;— +And when he saw that everything was clear, +He quenched the coal, and trampled the black dust, _180 +And in the stream his bloody sandals tossed. + +24. +All night he worked in the serene moonshine— +But when the light of day was spread abroad +He sought his natal mountain-peaks divine. +On his long wandering, neither Man nor God _185 +Had met him, since he killed Apollo’s kine, +Nor house-dog had barked at him on his road; +Now he obliquely through the keyhole passed, +Like a thin mist, or an autumnal blast. + +25. +Right through the temple of the spacious cave _190 +He went with soft light feet—as if his tread +Fell not on earth; no sound their falling gave; +Then to his cradle he crept quick, and spread +The swaddling-clothes about him; and the knave +Lay playing with the covering of the bed _195 +With his left hand about his knees—the right +Held his beloved tortoise-lyre tight. + +26. +There he lay innocent as a new-born child, +As gossips say; but though he was a God, +The Goddess, his fair mother, unbeguiled, _200 +Knew all that he had done being abroad: +‘Whence come you, and from what adventure wild, +You cunning rogue, and where have you abode +All the long night, clothed in your impudence? +What have you done since you departed hence? _205 + +27. +‘Apollo soon will pass within this gate +And bind your tender body in a chain +Inextricably tight, and fast as fate, +Unless you can delude the God again, +Even when within his arms—ah, runagate! _210 +A pretty torment both for Gods and Men +Your father made when he made you!’—‘Dear mother,’ +Replied sly Hermes, ‘wherefore scold and bother? + +28. +‘As if I were like other babes as old, +And understood nothing of what is what; _215 +And cared at all to hear my mother scold. +I in my subtle brain a scheme have got, +Which whilst the sacred stars round Heaven are rolled +Will profit you and me—nor shall our lot +Be as you counsel, without gifts or food, _220 +To spend our lives in this obscure abode. + +29 +‘But we will leave this shadow-peopled cave +And live among the Gods, and pass each day +In high communion, sharing what they have +Of profuse wealth and unexhausted prey; _225 +And from the portion which my father gave +To Phoebus, I will snatch my share away, +Which if my father will not—natheless I, +Who am the king of robbers, can but try. + +30. +‘And, if Latona’s son should find me out, _230 +I’ll countermine him by a deeper plan; +I’ll pierce the Pythian temple-walls, though stout, +And sack the fane of everything I can— +Caldrons and tripods of great worth no doubt, +Each golden cup and polished brazen pan, _235 +All the wrought tapestries and garments gay.’— +So they together talked;—meanwhile the Day + +31. +Aethereal born arose out of the flood +Of flowing Ocean, bearing light to men. +Apollo passed toward the sacred wood, _240 +Which from the inmost depths of its green glen +Echoes the voice of Neptune,—and there stood +On the same spot in green Onchestus then +That same old animal, the vine-dresser, +Who was employed hedging his vineyard there. _245 + +32. +Latona’s glorious Son began:—‘I pray +Tell, ancient hedger of Onchestus green, +Whether a drove of kine has passed this way, +All heifers with crooked horns? for they have been +Stolen from the herd in high Pieria, _250 +Where a black bull was fed apart, between +Two woody mountains in a neighbouring glen, +And four fierce dogs watched there, unanimous as men. + +33. +‘And what is strange, the author of this theft +Has stolen the fatted heifers every one, _255 +But the four dogs and the black bull are left:— +Stolen they were last night at set of sun, +Of their soft beds and their sweet food bereft.— +Now tell me, man born ere the world begun, +Have you seen any one pass with the cows?’— _260 +To whom the man of overhanging brows: + +34. +‘My friend, it would require no common skill +Justly to speak of everything I see: +On various purposes of good or ill +Many pass by my vineyard,—and to me _265 +’Tis difficult to know the invisible +Thoughts, which in all those many minds may be:— +Thus much alone I certainly can say, +I tilled these vines till the decline of day, + +35. +‘And then I thought I saw, but dare not speak _270 +With certainty of such a wondrous thing, +A child, who could not have been born a week, +Those fair-horned cattle closely following, +And in his hand he held a polished stick: +And, as on purpose, he walked wavering _275 +From one side to the other of the road, +And with his face opposed the steps he trod.’ + +36. +Apollo hearing this, passed quickly on— +No winged omen could have shown more clear +That the deceiver was his father’s son. _280 +So the God wraps a purple atmosphere +Around his shoulders, and like fire is gone +To famous Pylos, seeking his kine there, +And found their track and his, yet hardly cold, +And cried—‘What wonder do mine eyes behold! _285 + +37. +‘Here are the footsteps of the horned herd +Turned back towards their fields of asphodel;— +But THESE are not the tracks of beast or bird, +Gray wolf, or bear, or lion of the dell, +Or maned Centaur—sand was never stirred _290 +By man or woman thus! Inexplicable! +Who with unwearied feet could e’er impress +The sand with such enormous vestiges? + +38. +‘That was most strange—but this is stranger still!’ +Thus having said, Phoebus impetuously _295 +Sought high Cyllene’s forest-cinctured hill, +And the deep cavern where dark shadows lie, +And where the ambrosial nymph with happy will +Bore the Saturnian’s love-child, Mercury— +And a delightful odour from the dew _300 +Of the hill pastures, at his coming, flew. + +39. +And Phoebus stooped under the craggy roof +Arched over the dark cavern:—Maia’s child +Perceived that he came angry, far aloof, +About the cows of which he had been beguiled; _305 +And over him the fine and fragrant woof +Of his ambrosial swaddling-clothes he piled— +As among fire-brands lies a burning spark +Covered, beneath the ashes cold and dark. + +40. +There, like an infant who had sucked his fill _310 +And now was newly washed and put to bed, +Awake, but courting sleep with weary will, +And gathered in a lump, hands, feet, and head, +He lay, and his beloved tortoise still +He grasped and held under his shoulder-blade. _315 +Phoebus the lovely mountain-goddess knew, +Not less her subtle, swindling baby, who + +41. +Lay swathed in his sly wiles. Round every crook +Of the ample cavern, for his kine, Apollo +Looked sharp; and when he saw them not, he took _320 +The glittering key, and opened three great hollow +Recesses in the rock—where many a nook +Was filled with the sweet food immortals swallow, +And mighty heaps of silver and of gold +Were piled within—a wonder to behold! _325 + +42. +And white and silver robes, all overwrought +With cunning workmanship of tracery sweet— +Except among the Gods there can be nought +In the wide world to be compared with it. +Latona’s offspring, after having sought _330 +His herds in every corner, thus did greet +Great Hermes:—‘Little cradled rogue, declare +Of my illustrious heifers, where they are! + +43. +‘Speak quickly! or a quarrel between us +Must rise, and the event will be, that I _335 +Shall hurl you into dismal Tartarus, +In fiery gloom to dwell eternally; +Nor shall your father nor your mother loose +The bars of that black dungeon—utterly +You shall be cast out from the light of day, _340 +To rule the ghosts of men, unblessed as they. + +44. +To whom thus Hermes slily answered:—‘Son +Of great Latona, what a speech is this! +Why come you here to ask me what is done +With the wild oxen which it seems you miss? _345 +I have not seen them, nor from any one +Have heard a word of the whole business; +If you should promise an immense reward, +I could not tell more than you now have heard. + +45. +‘An ox-stealer should be both tall and strong, _350 +And I am but a little new-born thing, +Who, yet at least, can think of nothing wrong:— +My business is to suck, and sleep, and fling +The cradle-clothes about me all day long,— +Or half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing, _355 +And to be washed in water clean and warm, +And hushed and kissed and kept secure from harm. + +46. +‘O, let not e’er this quarrel be averred! +The astounded Gods would laugh at you, if e’er +You should allege a story so absurd _360 +As that a new-born infant forth could fare +Out of his home after a savage herd. +I was born yesterday—my small feet are +Too tender for the roads so hard and rough:— +And if you think that this is not enough, _365 + +47. +I swear a great oath, by my father’s head, +That I stole not your cows, and that I know +Of no one else, who might, or could, or did.— +Whatever things cows are, I do not know, +For I have only heard the name.’—This said _370 +He winked as fast as could be, and his brow +Was wrinkled, and a whistle loud gave he, +Like one who hears some strange absurdity. + +48. +Apollo gently smiled and said:—‘Ay, ay,— +You cunning little rascal, you will bore _375 +Many a rich man’s house, and your array +Of thieves will lay their siege before his door, +Silent as night, in night; and many a day +In the wild glens rough shepherds will deplore +That you or yours, having an appetite, _380 +Met with their cattle, comrade of the night! + +49. +‘And this among the Gods shall be your gift, +To be considered as the lord of those +Who swindle, house-break, sheep-steal, and shop-lift;— +But now if you would not your last sleep doze; _385 +Crawl out!’—Thus saying, Phoebus did uplift +The subtle infant in his swaddling clothes, +And in his arms, according to his wont, +A scheme devised the illustrious Argiphont. + +50. +... +... +And sneezed and shuddered—Phoebus on the grass _390 +Him threw, and whilst all that he had designed +He did perform—eager although to pass, +Apollo darted from his mighty mind +Towards the subtle babe the following scoff:— +‘Do not imagine this will get you off, _395 + +51. +‘You little swaddled child of Jove and May! +And seized him:—‘By this omen I shall trace +My noble herds, and you shall lead the way.’— +Cyllenian Hermes from the grassy place, +Like one in earnest haste to get away, _400 +Rose, and with hands lifted towards his face +Round both his ears up from his shoulders drew +His swaddling clothes, and—‘What mean you to do + +52. +‘With me, you unkind God?’—said Mercury: +‘Is it about these cows you tease me so? _405 +I wish the race of cows were perished!—I +Stole not your cows—I do not even know +What things cows are. Alas! I well may sigh +That since I came into this world of woe, +I should have ever heard the name of one— _410 +But I appeal to the Saturnian’s throne.’ + +53. +Thus Phoebus and the vagrant Mercury +Talked without coming to an explanation, +With adverse purpose. As for Phoebus, he +Sought not revenge, but only information, _415 +And Hermes tried with lies and roguery +To cheat Apollo.—But when no evasion +Served—for the cunning one his match had found— +He paced on first over the sandy ground. + +54. +... +He of the Silver Bow the child of Jove _420 +Followed behind, till to their heavenly Sire +Came both his children, beautiful as Love, +And from his equal balance did require +A judgement in the cause wherein they strove. +O’er odorous Olympus and its snows _425 +A murmuring tumult as they came arose,— + +55. +And from the folded depths of the great Hill, +While Hermes and Apollo reverent stood +Before Jove’s throne, the indestructible +Immortals rushed in mighty multitude; _430 +And whilst their seats in order due they fill, +The lofty Thunderer in a careless mood +To Phoebus said:—‘Whence drive you this sweet prey, +This herald-baby, born but yesterday?— + +56. +‘A most important subject, trifler, this _435 +To lay before the Gods!’—‘Nay, Father, nay, +When you have understood the business, +Say not that I alone am fond of prey. +I found this little boy in a recess +Under Cyllene’s mountains far away— _440 +A manifest and most apparent thief, +A scandalmonger beyond all belief. + +57. +‘I never saw his like either in Heaven +Or upon earth for knavery or craft:— +Out of the field my cattle yester-even, _445 +By the low shore on which the loud sea laughed, +He right down to the river-ford had driven; +And mere astonishment would make you daft +To see the double kind of footsteps strange +He has impressed wherever he did range. _450 + +58. +‘The cattle’s track on the black dust, full well +Is evident, as if they went towards +The place from which they came—that asphodel +Meadow, in which I feed my many herds,— +HIS steps were most incomprehensible— _455 +I know not how I can describe in words +Those tracks—he could have gone along the sands +Neither upon his feet nor on his hands;— + +59. +‘He must have had some other stranger mode +Of moving on: those vestiges immense, _460 +Far as I traced them on the sandy road, +Seemed like the trail of oak-toppings:—but thence +No mark nor track denoting where they trod +The hard ground gave:—but, working at his fence, +A mortal hedger saw him as he passed _465 +To Pylos, with the cows, in fiery haste. + +60. +‘I found that in the dark he quietly +Had sacrificed some cows, and before light +Had thrown the ashes all dispersedly +About the road—then, still as gloomy night, _470 +Had crept into his cradle, either eye +Rubbing, and cogitating some new sleight. +No eagle could have seen him as he lay +Hid in his cavern from the peering day. + +61. +‘I taxed him with the fact, when he averred _475 +Most solemnly that he did neither see +Nor even had in any manner heard +Of my lost cows, whatever things cows be; +Nor could he tell, though offered a reward, +Not even who could tell of them to me.’ _480 +So speaking, Phoebus sate; and Hermes then +Addressed the Supreme Lord of Gods and Men:— + +62. +‘Great Father, you know clearly beforehand +That all which I shall say to you is sooth; +I am a most veracious person, and _485 +Totally unacquainted with untruth. +At sunrise Phoebus came, but with no band +Of Gods to bear him witness, in great wrath, +To my abode, seeking his heifers there, +And saying that I must show him where they are, _490 + +63. +‘Or he would hurl me down the dark abyss. +I know that every Apollonian limb +Is clothed with speed and might and manliness, +As a green bank with flowers—but unlike him +I was born yesterday, and you may guess _495 +He well knew this when he indulged the whim +Of bullying a poor little new-born thing +That slept, and never thought of cow-driving. + +64. +‘Am I like a strong fellow who steals kine? +Believe me, dearest Father—such you are— _500 +This driving of the herds is none of mine; +Across my threshold did I wander ne’er, +So may I thrive! I reverence the divine +Sun and the Gods, and I love you, and care +Even for this hard accuser—who must know _505 +I am as innocent as they or you. + +65. +‘I swear by these most gloriously-wrought portals +(It is, you will allow, an oath of might) +Through which the multitude of the Immortals +Pass and repass forever, day and night, _510 +Devising schemes for the affairs of mortals— +I am guiltless; and I will requite, +Although mine enemy be great and strong, +His cruel threat—do thou defend the young!’ + +66. +So speaking, the Cyllenian Argiphont _515 +Winked, as if now his adversary was fitted:— +And Jupiter, according to his wont, +Laughed heartily to hear the subtle-witted +Infant give such a plausible account, +And every word a lie. But he remitted _520 +Judgement at present—and his exhortation +Was, to compose the affair by arbitration. + +67. +And they by mighty Jupiter were bidden +To go forth with a single purpose both, +Neither the other chiding nor yet chidden: _525 +And Mercury with innocence and truth +To lead the way, and show where he had hidden +The mighty heifers.—Hermes, nothing loth, +Obeyed the Aegis-bearer’s will—for he +Is able to persuade all easily. _530 + +68. +These lovely children of Heaven’s highest Lord +Hastened to Pylos and the pastures wide +And lofty stalls by the Alphean ford, +Where wealth in the mute night is multiplied +With silent growth. Whilst Hermes drove the herd _535 +Out of the stony cavern, Phoebus spied +The hides of those the little babe had slain, +Stretched on the precipice above the plain. + +69. +‘How was it possible,’ then Phoebus said, +‘That you, a little child, born yesterday, _540 +A thing on mother’s milk and kisses fed, +Could two prodigious heifers ever flay? +Even I myself may well hereafter dread +Your prowess, offspring of Cyllenian May, +When you grow strong and tall.’—He spoke, and bound _545 +Stiff withy bands the infant’s wrists around. + +70. +He might as well have bound the oxen wild; +The withy bands, though starkly interknit, +Fell at the feet of the immortal child, +Loosened by some device of his quick wit. _550 +Phoebus perceived himself again beguiled, +And stared—while Hermes sought some hole or pit, +Looking askance and winking fast as thought, +Where he might hide himself and not be caught. + +71. +Sudden he changed his plan, and with strange skill _555 +Subdued the strong Latonian, by the might +Of winning music, to his mightier will; +His left hand held the lyre, and in his right +The plectrum struck the chords—unconquerable +Up from beneath his hand in circling flight _560 +The gathering music rose—and sweet as Love +The penetrating notes did live and move + +72. +Within the heart of great Apollo—he +Listened with all his soul, and laughed for pleasure. +Close to his side stood harping fearlessly _565 +The unabashed boy; and to the measure +Of the sweet lyre, there followed loud and free +His joyous voice; for he unlocked the treasure +Of his deep song, illustrating the birth +Of the bright Gods, and the dark desert Earth: _570 + +73. +And how to the Immortals every one +A portion was assigned of all that is; +But chief Mnemosyne did Maia’s son +Clothe in the light of his loud melodies;— +And, as each God was born or had begun, _575 +He in their order due and fit degrees +Sung of his birth and being—and did move +Apollo to unutterable love. + +74. +These words were winged with his swift delight: +‘You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you _580 +Deserve that fifty oxen should requite +Such minstrelsies as I have heard even now. +Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight, +One of your secrets I would gladly know, +Whether the glorious power you now show forth _585 +Was folded up within you at your birth, + +75. +‘Or whether mortal taught or God inspired +The power of unpremeditated song? +Many divinest sounds have I admired, +The Olympian Gods and mortal men among; _590 +But such a strain of wondrous, strange, untired, +And soul-awakening music, sweet and strong, +Yet did I never hear except from thee, +Offspring of May, impostor Mercury! + +76. +‘What Muse, what skill, what unimagined use, _595 +What exercise of subtlest art, has given +Thy songs such power?—for those who hear may choose +From three, the choicest of the gifts of Heaven, +Delight, and love, and sleep,—sweet sleep, whose dews +Are sweeter than the balmy tears of even:— _600 +And I, who speak this praise, am that Apollo +Whom the Olympian Muses ever follow: + +77. +‘And their delight is dance, and the blithe noise +Of song and overflowing poesy; +And sweet, even as desire, the liquid voice _605 +Of pipes, that fills the clear air thrillingly; +But never did my inmost soul rejoice +In this dear work of youthful revelry +As now. I wonder at thee, son of Jove; +Thy harpings and thy song are soft as love. _610 + +78. +‘Now since thou hast, although so very small, +Science of arts so glorious, thus I swear,— +And let this cornel javelin, keen and tall, +Witness between us what I promise here,— +That I will lead thee to the Olympian Hall, _615 +Honoured and mighty, with thy mother dear, +And many glorious gifts in joy will give thee, +And even at the end will ne’er deceive thee.’ + +79. +To whom thus Mercury with prudent speech:— +‘Wisely hast thou inquired of my skill: _620 +I envy thee no thing I know to teach +Even this day:—for both in word and will +I would be gentle with thee; thou canst reach +All things in thy wise spirit, and thy sill +Is highest in Heaven among the sons of Jove, _625 +Who loves thee in the fulness of his love. + +80. +‘The Counsellor Supreme has given to thee +Divinest gifts, out of the amplitude +Of his profuse exhaustless treasury; +By thee, ’tis said, the depths are understood _630 +Of his far voice; by thee the mystery +Of all oracular fates,—and the dread mood +Of the diviner is breathed up; even I— +A child—perceive thy might and majesty. + +81. +‘Thou canst seek out and compass all that wit _635 +Can find or teach;—yet since thou wilt, come take +The lyre—be mine the glory giving it— +Strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud, and wake +Thy joyous pleasure out of many a fit +Of tranced sound—and with fleet fingers make _640 +Thy liquid-voiced comrade talk with thee,— +It can talk measured music eloquently. + +82. +‘Then bear it boldly to the revel loud, +Love-wakening dance, or feast of solemn state, +A joy by night or day—for those endowed _645 +With art and wisdom who interrogate +It teaches, babbling in delightful mood +All things which make the spirit most elate, +Soothing the mind with sweet familiar play, +Chasing the heavy shadows of dismay. _650 + +83. +‘To those who are unskilled in its sweet tongue, +Though they should question most impetuously +Its hidden soul, it gossips something wrong— +Some senseless and impertinent reply. +But thou who art as wise as thou art strong _655 +Canst compass all that thou desirest. I +Present thee with this music-flowing shell, +Knowing thou canst interrogate it well. + +84. +‘And let us two henceforth together feed, +On this green mountain-slope and pastoral plain, _660 +The herds in litigation—they will breed +Quickly enough to recompense our pain, +If to the bulls and cows we take good heed;— +And thou, though somewhat over fond of gain, +Grudge me not half the profit.’—Having spoke, _665 +The shell he proffered, and Apollo took; + +85. +And gave him in return the glittering lash, +Installing him as herdsman;—from the look +Of Mercury then laughed a joyous flash. +And then Apollo with the plectrum strook _670 +The chords, and from beneath his hands a crash +Of mighty sounds rushed up, whose music shook +The soul with sweetness, and like an adept +His sweeter voice a just accordance kept. + +86. +The herd went wandering o’er the divine mead, _675 +Whilst these most beautiful Sons of Jupiter +Won their swift way up to the snowy head +Of white Olympus, with the joyous lyre +Soothing their journey; and their father dread +Gathered them both into familiar _680 +Affection sweet,—and then, and now, and ever, +Hermes must love Him of the Golden Quiver, + +87. +To whom he gave the lyre that sweetly sounded, +Which skilfully he held and played thereon. +He piped the while, and far and wide rebounded _685 +The echo of his pipings; every one +Of the Olympians sat with joy astounded; +While he conceived another piece of fun, +One of his old tricks—which the God of Day +Perceiving, said:—‘I fear thee, Son of May;— _690 + +88. +‘I fear thee and thy sly chameleon spirit, +Lest thou should steal my lyre and crooked bow; +This glory and power thou dost from Jove inherit, +To teach all craft upon the earth below; +Thieves love and worship thee—it is thy merit _695 +To make all mortal business ebb and flow +By roguery:—now, Hermes, if you dare +By sacred Styx a mighty oath to swear + +89. +‘That you will never rob me, you will do +A thing extremely pleasing to my heart.’ _700 +Then Mercury swore by the Stygian dew, +That he would never steal his bow or dart, +Or lay his hands on what to him was due, +Or ever would employ his powerful art +Against his Pythian fane. Then Phoebus swore _705 +There was no God or Man whom he loved more. + +90. +‘And I will give thee as a good-will token, +The beautiful wand of wealth and happiness; +A perfect three-leaved rod of gold unbroken, +Whose magic will thy footsteps ever bless; _710 +And whatsoever by Jove’s voice is spoken +Of earthly or divine from its recess, +It, like a loving soul, to thee will speak, +And more than this, do thou forbear to seek. + +91. +‘For, dearest child, the divinations high _715 +Which thou requirest, ’tis unlawful ever +That thou, or any other deity +Should understand—and vain were the endeavour; +For they are hidden in Jove’s mind, and I, +In trust of them, have sworn that I would never _720 +Betray the counsels of Jove’s inmost will +To any God—the oath was terrible. + +92. +‘Then, golden-wanded brother, ask me not +To speak the fates by Jupiter designed; +But be it mine to tell their various lot _725 +To the unnumbered tribes of human-kind. +Let good to these, and ill to those be wrought +As I dispense—but he who comes consigned +By voice and wings of perfect augury +To my great shrine, shall find avail in me. _730 + +93. +‘Him will I not deceive, but will assist; +But he who comes relying on such birds +As chatter vainly, who would strain and twist +The purpose of the Gods with idle words, +And deems their knowledge light, he shall have missed _735 +His road—whilst I among my other hoards +His gifts deposit. Yet, O son of May, +I have another wondrous thing to say. + +96. +‘There are three Fates, three virgin Sisters, who +Rejoicing in their wind-outspeeding wings, _740 +Their heads with flour snowed over white and new, +Sit in a vale round which Parnassus flings +Its circling skirts—from these I have learned true +Vaticinations of remotest things. +My father cared not. Whilst they search out dooms, _745 +They sit apart and feed on honeycombs. + +95. +‘They, having eaten the fresh honey, grow +Drunk with divine enthusiasm, and utter +With earnest willingness the truth they know; +But if deprived of that sweet food, they mutter _750 +All plausible delusions;—these to you +I give;—if you inquire, they will not stutter; +Delight your own soul with them:—any man +You would instruct may profit if he can. + +96. +‘Take these and the fierce oxen, Maia’s child— _755 +O’er many a horse and toil-enduring mule, +O’er jagged-jawed lions, and the wild +White-tusked boars, o’er all, by field or pool, +Of cattle which the mighty Mother mild +Nourishes in her bosom, thou shalt rule— _760 +Thou dost alone the veil from death uplift— +Thou givest not—yet this is a great gift.’ + +97. +Thus King Apollo loved the child of May +In truth, and Jove covered their love with joy. +Hermes with Gods and Men even from that day _765 +Mingled, and wrought the latter much annoy, +And little profit, going far astray +Through the dun night. Farewell, delightful Boy, +Of Jove and Maia sprung,—never by me, +Nor thou, nor other songs, shall unremembered be. _770 + +NOTES: +_13 cow-stealing]qy. cattle-stealing? +_57 stony Boscombe manuscript. Harvard manuscript; strong edition 1824. +_252 neighbouring]neighbour Harvard manuscript. +_336 hurl Harvard manuscript, editions 1839; haul edition 1824. +_402 Round]Roused edition 1824 only. +_488 wrath]ruth Harvard manuscript. +_580 heifer-stealing]heifer-killing Harvard manuscript. +_673 and like 1839, 1st edition; as of edition 1824, Harvard manuscript. +_713 loving]living cj. Rossetti. +_761 from Harvard manuscript; of editions 1824, 1839. +_764 their love with joy Harvard manuscript; them with love and joy, + editions 1824, 1839. +_767 going]wandering Harvard manuscript. + +*** + + +HOMER’S HYMN TO CASTOR AND POLLUX. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition; dated +1818.] + +Ye wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove, +Whom the fair-ankled Leda, mixed in love +With mighty Saturn’s Heaven-obscuring Child, +On Taygetus, that lofty mountain wild, +Brought forth in joy: mild Pollux, void of blame, _5 +And steed-subduing Castor, heirs of fame. +These are the Powers who earth-born mortals save +And ships, whose flight is swift along the wave. +When wintry tempests o’er the savage sea +Are raging, and the sailors tremblingly _10 +Call on the Twins of Jove with prayer and vow, +Gathered in fear upon the lofty prow, +And sacrifice with snow-white lambs,—the wind +And the huge billow bursting close behind, +Even then beneath the weltering waters bear _15 +The staggering ship—they suddenly appear, +On yellow wings rushing athwart the sky, +And lull the blasts in mute tranquillity, +And strew the waves on the white Ocean’s bed, +Fair omen of the voyage; from toil and dread _20 +The sailors rest, rejoicing in the sight, +And plough the quiet sea in safe delight. + +NOTE: +_6 steed-subduing emend. Rossetti; steel-subduing 1839, 2nd edition. + +*** + + +HOMER’S HYMN TO THE MOON. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition; +dated 1818.] + +Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody, +Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsy +Sing the wide-winged Moon! Around the earth, +From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth, +Far light is scattered—boundless glory springs; _5 +Where’er she spreads her many-beaming wings +The lampless air glows round her golden crown. + +But when the Moon divine from Heaven is gone +Under the sea, her beams within abide, +Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean’s tide, _10 +Clothing her form in garments glittering far, +And having yoked to her immortal car +The beam-invested steeds whose necks on high +Curve back, she drives to a remoter sky +A western Crescent, borne impetuously. _15 +Then is made full the circle of her light, +And as she grows, her beams more bright and bright +Are poured from Heaven, where she is hovering then, +A wonder and a sign to mortal men. + +The Son of Saturn with this glorious Power _20 +Mingled in love and sleep—to whom she bore +Pandeia, a bright maid of beauty rare +Among the Gods, whose lives eternal are. + +Hail Queen, great Moon, white-armed Divinity, +Fair-haired and favourable! thus with thee _25 +My song beginning, by its music sweet +Shall make immortal many a glorious feat +Of demigods, with lovely lips, so well +Which minstrels, servants of the Muses, tell. + +*** + + +HOMER’S HYMN TO THE SUN. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition; +dated 1818.] + +Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once more +To the bright Sun, thy hymn of music pour; +Whom to the child of star-clad Heaven and Earth +Euryphaessa, large-eyed nymph, brought forth; +Euryphaessa, the famed sister fair _5 +Of great Hyperion, who to him did bear +A race of loveliest children; the young Morn, +Whose arms are like twin roses newly born, +The fair-haired Moon, and the immortal Sun, +Who borne by heavenly steeds his race doth run _10 +Unconquerably, illuming the abodes +Of mortal Men and the eternal Gods. + +Fiercely look forth his awe-inspiring eyes, +Beneath his golden helmet, whence arise +And are shot forth afar, clear beams of light; _15 +His countenance, with radiant glory bright, +Beneath his graceful locks far shines around, +And the light vest with which his limbs are bound, +Of woof aethereal delicately twined, +Glows in the stream of the uplifting wind. _20 +His rapid steeds soon bear him to the West; +Where their steep flight his hands divine arrest, +And the fleet car with yoke of gold, which he +Sends from bright Heaven beneath the shadowy sea. + +*** + + +HOMER’S HYMN TO THE EARTH: MOTHER OF ALL. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition; +dated 1818.] + +O universal Mother, who dost keep +From everlasting thy foundations deep, +Eldest of things, Great Earth, I sing of thee! +All shapes that have their dwelling in the sea, +All things that fly, or on the ground divine _5 +Live, move, and there are nourished—these are thine; +These from thy wealth thou dost sustain; from thee +Fair babes are born, and fruits on every tree +Hang ripe and large, revered Divinity! + +The life of mortal men beneath thy sway _10 +Is held; thy power both gives and takes away! +Happy are they whom thy mild favours nourish; +All things unstinted round them grow and flourish. +For them, endures the life-sustaining field +Its load of harvest, and their cattle yield _15 +Large increase, and their house with wealth is filled. +Such honoured dwell in cities fair and free, +The homes of lovely women, prosperously; +Their sons exult in youth’s new budding gladness, +And their fresh daughters free from care or sadness, _20 +With bloom-inwoven dance and happy song, +On the soft flowers the meadow-grass among, +Leap round them sporting—such delights by thee +Are given, rich Power, revered Divinity. + +Mother of gods, thou Wife of starry Heaven, _25 +Farewell! be thou propitious, and be given +A happy life for this brief melody, +Nor thou nor other songs shall unremembered be. + +*** + + +HOMER’S HYMN TO MINERVA. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition; +dated 1818.] + +I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes, +Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise, +Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid, +Revered and mighty; from his awful head +Whom Jove brought forth, in warlike armour dressed, _5 +Golden, all radiant! wonder strange possessed +The everlasting Gods that Shape to see, +Shaking a javelin keen, impetuously +Rush from the crest of Aegis-bearing Jove; +Fearfully Heaven was shaken, and did move _10 +Beneath the might of the Cerulean-eyed; +Earth dreadfully resounded, far and wide; +And, lifted from its depths, the sea swelled high +In purple billows, the tide suddenly +Stood still, and great Hyperion’s son long time _15 +Checked his swift steeds, till, where she stood sublime, +Pallas from her immortal shoulders threw +The arms divine; wise Jove rejoiced to view. +Child of the Aegis-bearer, hail to thee, +Nor thine nor others’ praise shall unremembered be. _20 + +*** + + +HOMER’S HYMN TO VENUS. + +[Published by Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862; dated 1818.] + +[VERSES 1-55, WITH SOME OMISSIONS.] + +Muse, sing the deeds of golden Aphrodite, +Who wakens with her smile the lulled delight +Of sweet desire, taming the eternal kings +Of Heaven, and men, and all the living things +That fleet along the air, or whom the sea, _5 +Or earth, with her maternal ministry, +Nourish innumerable, thy delight +All seek ... O crowned Aphrodite! +Three spirits canst thou not deceive or quell:— +Minerva, child of Jove, who loves too well _10 +Fierce war and mingling combat, and the fame +Of glorious deeds, to heed thy gentle flame. +Diana ... golden-shafted queen, +Is tamed not by thy smiles; the shadows green +Of the wild woods, the bow, the... _15 +And piercing cries amid the swift pursuit +Of beasts among waste mountains,—such delight +Is hers, and men who know and do the right. +Nor Saturn’s first-born daughter, Vesta chaste, +Whom Neptune and Apollo wooed the last, _20 +Such was the will of aegis-bearing Jove; +But sternly she refused the ills of Love, +And by her mighty Father’s head she swore +An oath not unperformed, that evermore +A virgin she would live mid deities _25 +Divine: her father, for such gentle ties +Renounced, gave glorious gifts—thus in his hall +She sits and feeds luxuriously. O’er all +In every fane, her honours first arise +From men—the eldest of Divinities. _30 + +These spirits she persuades not, nor deceives, +But none beside escape, so well she weaves +Her unseen toils; nor mortal men, nor gods +Who live secure in their unseen abodes. +She won the soul of him whose fierce delight _35 +Is thunder—first in glory and in might. +And, as she willed, his mighty mind deceiving, +With mortal limbs his deathless limbs inweaving, +Concealed him from his spouse and sister fair, +Whom to wise Saturn ancient Rhea bare. _40 +but in return, +In Venus Jove did soft desire awaken, +That by her own enchantments overtaken, +She might, no more from human union free, +Burn for a nursling of mortality. _45 +For once amid the assembled Deities, +The laughter-loving Venus from her eyes + +Shot forth the light of a soft starlight smile, +And boasting said, that she, secure the while, +Could bring at Will to the assembled Gods _50 +The mortal tenants of earth’s dark abodes, +And mortal offspring from a deathless stem +She could produce in scorn and spite of them. +Therefore he poured desire into her breast +Of young Anchises, _55 +Feeding his herds among the mossy fountains +Of the wide Ida’s many-folded mountains,— +Whom Venus saw, and loved, and the love clung +Like wasting fire her senses wild among. + +*** + + +THE CYCLOPS. + +A SATYRIC DRAMA TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824; dated 1819. +Amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian there is a copy, +‘practically complete,’ which has been collated by Mr. C.D. Locock. See +“Examination”, etc., 1903, pages 64-70. ‘Though legible throughout, and +comparatively free from corrections, it has the appearance of being a +first draft’ (Locock).] + +SILENUS. +ULYSSES. +CHORUS OF SATYRS. +THE CYCLOPS. + +SILENUS: +O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now +And ere these limbs were overworn with age, +Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled’st +The mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afar +By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee; _5 +Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth, +When I stood foot by foot close to thy side, +No unpropitious fellow-combatant, +And, driving through his shield my winged spear, +Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now, _10 +Is it a dream of which I speak to thee? +By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies! +And now I suffer more than all before. +For when I heard that Juno had devised +A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea _15 +With all my children quaint in search of you, +And I myself stood on the beaked prow +And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys +Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain +Made white with foam the green and purple sea,— _20 +And so we sought you, king. We were sailing +Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose, +And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock; +The one-eyed children of the Ocean God, +The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit, _25 +On this wild shore, their solitary caves, +And one of these, named Polypheme, has caught us +To be his slaves; and so, for all delight +Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody, +We keep this lawless giant’s wandering flocks. _30 +My sons indeed on far declivities, +Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep, +But I remain to fill the water-casks, +Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering +Some impious and abominable meal _35 +To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it! +And now I must scrape up the littered floor +With this great iron rake, so to receive +My absent master and his evening sheep +In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see _40 +My children tending the flocks hitherward. +Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures +Even now the same, as when with dance and song +You brought young Bacchus to Althaea’s halls? + +NOTE: +_23 waste B.; wild 1824; ‘cf. 26, where waste is cancelled for wild’ + (Locock). + +CHORUS OF SATYRS: + +STROPHE: +Where has he of race divine _45 +Wandered in the winding rocks? +Here the air is calm and fine +For the father of the flocks;— +Here the grass is soft and sweet, +And the river-eddies meet _50 +In the trough beside the cave, +Bright as in their fountain wave.— +Neither here, nor on the dew +Of the lawny uplands feeding? +Oh, you come!—a stone at you _55 +Will I throw to mend your breeding;— +Get along, you horned thing, +Wild, seditious, rambling! + +EPODE: +An Iacchic melody +To the golden Aphrodite _60 +Will I lift, as erst did I +Seeking her and her delight +With the Maenads, whose white feet +To the music glance and fleet. +Bacchus, O beloved, where, _65 +Shaking wide thy yellow hair, +Wanderest thou alone, afar? +To the one-eyed Cyclops, we, +Who by right thy servants are, +Minister in misery, _70 +In these wretched goat-skins clad, +Far from thy delights and thee. + +SILENUS: +Be silent, sons; command the slaves to drive +The gathered flocks into the rock-roofed cave. + +CHORUS: +Go! But what needs this serious haste, O father? _75 + +SILENUS: +I see a Grecian vessel on the coast, +And thence the rowers with some general +Approaching to this cave.—About their necks +Hang empty vessels, as they wanted food, +And water-flasks.—Oh, miserable strangers! _80 +Whence come they, that they know not what and who +My master is, approaching in ill hour +The inhospitable roof of Polypheme, +And the Cyclopian jaw-bone, man-destroying? +Be silent, Satyrs, while I ask and hear _85 +Whence coming, they arrive the Aetnean hill. + +ULYSSES: +Friends, can you show me some clear water-spring, +The remedy of our thirst? Will any one +Furnish with food seamen in want of it? +Ha! what is this? We seem to be arrived _90 +At the blithe court of Bacchus. I observe +This sportive band of Satyrs near the caves. +First let me greet the elder.—Hail! + +SILENUS: +Hail thou, +O Stranger! tell thy country and thy race. + +ULYSSES: +The Ithacan Ulysses and the king _95 +Of Cephalonia. + +SILENUS: +Oh! I know the man, +Wordy and shrewd, the son of Sisyphus. + +ULYSSES: +I am the same, but do not rail upon me.— + +SILENUS: +Whence sailing do you come to Sicily? + +ULYSSES: +From Ilion, and from the Trojan toils. _100 + +SILENUS: +How, touched you not at your paternal shore? + +ULYSSES: +The strength of tempests bore me here by force. + +SILENUS: +The self-same accident occurred to me. + +ULYSSES: +Were you then driven here by stress of weather? + +SILENUS: +Following the Pirates who had kidnapped Bacchus. _105 + +ULYSSES: +What land is this, and who inhabit it?— + +SILENUS: +Aetna, the loftiest peak in Sicily. + +ULYSSES: +And are there walls, and tower-surrounded towns? + +SILENUS: +There are not.—These lone rocks are bare of men. + +ULYSSES: +And who possess the land? the race of beasts? _110 + +SILENUS: +Cyclops, who live in caverns, not in houses. + +ULYSSES: +Obeying whom? Or is the state popular? + +SILENUS: +Shepherds: no one obeys any in aught. + +ULYSSES: +How live they? do they sow the corn of Ceres? + +SILENUS: +On milk and cheese, and on the flesh of sheep. _115 + +ULYSSES: +Have they the Bromian drink from the vine’s stream? + +SILENUS: +Ah! no; they live in an ungracious land. + +ULYSSES: +And are they just to strangers?—hospitable? + +SILENUS: +They think the sweetest thing a stranger brings +Is his own flesh. + +ULYSSES: +What! do they eat man’s flesh? _120 + +SILENUS: +No one comes here who is not eaten up. + +ULYSSES: +The Cyclops now—where is he? Not at home? + +SILENUS: +Absent on Aetna, hunting with his dogs. + +ULYSSES: +Know’st thou what thou must do to aid us hence? + +SILENUS: +I know not: we will help you all we can. _125 + +ULYSSES: +Provide us food, of which we are in want. + +SILENUS: +Here is not anything, as I said, but meat. + +ULYSSES: +But meat is a sweet remedy for hunger. + +SILENUS: +Cow’s milk there is, and store of curdled cheese. + +ULYSSES: +Bring out:—I would see all before I bargain. _130 + +SILENUS: +But how much gold will you engage to give? + +ULYSSES: +I bring no gold, but Bacchic juice. + +SILENUS: +Oh, joy! +Tis long since these dry lips were wet with wine. + +ULYSSES: +Maron, the son of the God, gave it me. + +SILENUS: +Whom I have nursed a baby in my arms. _135 + +ULYSSES: +The son of Bacchus, for your clearer knowledge. + +SILENUS: +Have you it now?—or is it in the ship? + +ULYSSES: +Old man, this skin contains it, which you see. + +SILENUS: +Why, this would hardly be a mouthful for me. + +ULYSSES: +Nay, twice as much as you can draw from thence. _140 + +SILENUS: +You speak of a fair fountain, sweet to me. + +ULYSSES: +Would you first taste of the unmingled wine? + +SILENUS: +’Tis just—tasting invites the purchaser. + +ULYSSES: +Here is the cup, together with the skin. + +SILENUS: +Pour: that the draught may fillip my remembrance. + +ULYSSES: +See! _145 + +SILENUS: +Papaiapax! what a sweet smell it has! + +ULYSSES: +You see it then?— + +SILENUS: +By Jove, no! but I smell it. + +ULYSSES: +Taste, that you may not praise it in words only. + +SILENUS: +Babai! Great Bacchus calls me forth to dance! +Joy! joy! + +ULYSSES: +Did it flow sweetly down your throat? _150 + +SILENUS: +So that it tingled to my very nails. + +ULYSSES: +And in addition I will give you gold. + +SILENUS: +Let gold alone! only unlock the cask. + +ULYSSES: +Bring out some cheeses now, or a young goat. + +SILENUS: +That will I do, despising any master. _155 +Yes, let me drink one cup, and I will give +All that the Cyclops feed upon their mountains. + +... + +CHORUS: +Ye have taken Troy and laid your hands on Helen? + +ULYSSES: +And utterly destroyed the race of Priam. + +... + +SILENUS: +The wanton wretch! she was bewitched to see _160 +The many-coloured anklets and the chain +Of woven gold which girt the neck of Paris, +And so she left that good man Menelaus. +There should be no more women in the world +But such as are reserved for me alone.— _165 +See, here are sheep, and here are goats, Ulysses, +Here are unsparing cheeses of pressed milk; +Take them; depart with what good speed ye may; +First leaving my reward, the Bacchic dew +Of joy-inspiring grapes. + +ULYSSES: +Ah me! Alas! _170 +What shall we do? the Cyclops is at hand! +Old man, we perish! whither can we fly? + +SILENUS: +Hide yourselves quick within that hollow rock. + +ULYSSES: +’Twere perilous to fly into the net. + +SILENUS: +The cavern has recesses numberless; _175 +Hide yourselves quick. + +ULYSSES: +That will I never do! +The mighty Troy would be indeed disgraced +If I should fly one man. How many times +Have I withstood, with shield immovable. +Ten thousand Phrygians!—if I needs must die, _180 +Yet will I die with glory;—if I live, +The praise which I have gained will yet remain. + +SILENUS: +What, ho! assistance, comrades, haste, assistance! + +[THE CYCLOPS, SILENUS, ULYSSES; CHORUS.] + +CYCLOPS: +What is this tumult? Bacchus is not here, +Nor tympanies nor brazen castanets. _185 +How are my young lambs in the cavern? Milking +Their dams or playing by their sides? And is +The new cheese pressed into the bulrush baskets? +Speak! I’ll beat some of you till you rain tears— +Look up, not downwards when I speak to you. _190 + +SILENUS: +See! I now gape at Jupiter himself; +I stare upon Orion and the stars. + +CYCLOPS: +Well, is the dinner fitly cooked and laid? + +SILENUS: +All ready, if your throat is ready too. + +CYCLOPS: +Are the bowls full of milk besides? + +SILENUS: +O’er-brimming; _195 +So you may drink a tunful if you will. + +CYCLOPS: +Is it ewe’s milk or cow’s milk, or both mixed?— + +SILENUS: +Both, either; only pray don’t swallow me. + +CYCLOPS: +By no means.— +... +What is this crowd I see beside the stalls? _200 +Outlaws or thieves? for near my cavern-home +I see my young lambs coupled two by two +With willow bands; mixed with my cheeses lie +Their implements; and this old fellow here +Has his bald head broken with stripes. + +SILENUS: +Ah me! _205 +I have been beaten till I burn with fever. + +CYCLOPS: +By whom? Who laid his fist upon your head? + +SILENUS: +Those men, because I would not suffer them +To steal your goods. + +CYCLOPS: +Did not the rascals know +I am a God, sprung from the race of Heaven? _210 + +SILENUS: +I told them so, but they bore off your things, +And ate the cheese in spite of all I said, +And carried out the lambs—and said, moreover, +They’d pin you down with a three-cubit collar, +And pull your vitals out through your one eye, _215 +Furrow your back with stripes, then, binding you, +Throw you as ballast into the ship’s hold, +And then deliver you, a slave, to move +Enormous rocks, or found a vestibule. + +NOTE: +_216 Furrow B.; Torture (evidently misread for Furrow) 1824. + +CYCLOPS: +In truth? Nay, haste, and place in order quickly +The cooking-knives, and heap upon the hearth, _221 +And kindle it, a great faggot of wood.— +As soon as they are slaughtered, they shall fill +My belly, broiling warm from the live coals, +Or boiled and seethed within the bubbling caldron. _225 +I am quite sick of the wild mountain game; +Of stags and lions I have gorged enough, +And I grow hungry for the flesh of men. + +SILENUS: +Nay, master, something new is very pleasant +After one thing forever, and of late _230 +Very few strangers have approached our cave. + +ULYSSES: +Hear, Cyclops, a plain tale on the other side. +We, wanting to buy food, came from our ship +Into the neighbourhood of your cave, and here +This old Silenus gave us in exchange _235 +These lambs for wine, the which he took and drank, +And all by mutual compact, without force. +There is no word of truth in what he says, +For slyly he was selling all your store. + +SILENUS: +I? May you perish, wretch— + +ULYSSES: +If I speak false! _240 + +SILENUS: +Cyclops, I swear by Neptune who begot thee, +By mighty Triton and by Nereus old, +Calypso and the glaucous Ocean Nymphs, +The sacred waves and all the race of fishes— +Be these the witnesses, my dear sweet master, _245 +My darling little Cyclops, that I never +Gave any of your stores to these false strangers;— +If I speak false may those whom most I love, +My children, perish wretchedly! + +CHORUS: +There stop! +I saw him giving these things to the strangers. _250 +If I speak false, then may my father perish, +But do not thou wrong hospitality. + +CYCLOPS: +You lie! I swear that he is juster far +Than Rhadamanthus—I trust more in him. +But let me ask, whence have ye sailed, O strangers? _255 +Who are you? And what city nourished ye? + +ULYSSES: +Our race is Ithacan—having destroyed +The town of Troy, the tempests of the sea +Have driven us on thy land, O Polypheme. + +CYCLOPS: +What, have ye shared in the unenvied spoil _260 +Of the false Helen, near Scamander’s stream? + +ULYSSES: +The same, having endured a woful toil. + +CYCLOPS: +Oh, basest expedition! sailed ye not +From Greece to Phrygia for one woman’s sake? + +ULYSSES: +’Twas the Gods’ work—no mortal was in fault. _265 +But, O great Offspring of the Ocean-King, +We pray thee and admonish thee with freedom, +That thou dost spare thy friends who visit thee, +And place no impious food within thy jaws. +For in the depths of Greece we have upreared _270 +Temples to thy great Father, which are all +His homes. The sacred bay of Taenarus +Remains inviolate, and each dim recess +Scooped high on the Malean promontory, +And aery Sunium’s silver-veined crag, _275 +Which divine Pallas keeps unprofaned ever, +The Gerastian asylums, and whate’er +Within wide Greece our enterprise has kept +From Phrygian contumely; and in which +You have a common care, for you inhabit _280 +The skirts of Grecian land, under the roots +Of Aetna and its crags, spotted with fire. +Turn then to converse under human laws, +Receive us shipwrecked suppliants, and provide +Food, clothes, and fire, and hospitable gifts; _285 +Nor fixing upon oxen-piercing spits +Our limbs, so fill your belly and your jaws. +Priam’s wide land has widowed Greece enough; +And weapon-winged murder leaped together +Enough of dead, and wives are husbandless, _290 +And ancient women and gray fathers wail +Their childless age;—if you should roast the rest— +And ’tis a bitter feast that you prepare— +Where then would any turn? Yet be persuaded; +Forgo the lust of your jaw-bone; prefer _295 +Pious humanity to wicked will: +Many have bought too dear their evil joys. + +SILENUS: +Let me advise you, do not spare a morsel +Of all his flesh. If you should eat his tongue +You would become most eloquent, O Cyclops. _300 + +CYCLOPS: +Wealth, my good fellow, is the wise man’s God, +All other things are a pretence and boast. +What are my father’s ocean promontories, +The sacred rocks whereon he dwells, to me? +Stranger, I laugh to scorn Jove’s thunderbolt, _305 +I know not that his strength is more than mine. +As to the rest I care not.—When he pours +Rain from above, I have a close pavilion +Under this rock, in which I lie supine, +Feasting on a roast calf or some wild beast, _310 +And drinking pans of milk, and gloriously +Emulating the thunder of high Heaven. +And when the Thracian wind pours down the snow, +I wrap my body in the skins of beasts, +Kindle a fire, and bid the snow whirl on. _315 +The earth, by force, whether it will or no, +Bringing forth grass, fattens my flocks and herds, +Which, to what other God but to myself +And this great belly, first of deities, +Should I be bound to sacrifice? I well know _320 +The wise man’s only Jupiter is this, +To eat and drink during his little day, +And give himself no care. And as for those +Who complicate with laws the life of man, +I freely give them tears for their reward. _325 +I will not cheat my soul of its delight, +Or hesitate in dining upon you:— +And that I may be quit of all demands, +These are my hospitable gifts;—fierce fire +And yon ancestral caldron, which o’er-bubbling _330 +Shall finely cook your miserable flesh. +Creep in!— + +... + +ULYSSES: +Ai! ai! I have escaped the Trojan toils, +I have escaped the sea, and now I fall +Under the cruel grasp of one impious man. _335 +O Pallas, Mistress, Goddess, sprung from Jove, +Now, now, assist me! Mightier toils than Troy +Are these;—I totter on the chasms of peril;— +And thou who inhabitest the thrones +Of the bright stars, look, hospitable Jove, _340 +Upon this outrage of thy deity, +Otherwise be considered as no God! + +CHORUS (ALONE): +For your gaping gulf and your gullet wide, +The ravin is ready on every side, +The limbs of the strangers are cooked and done; _345 +There is boiled meat, and roast meat, and meat from the coal, +You may chop it, and tear it, and gnash it for fun, +An hairy goat’s-skin contains the whole. +Let me but escape, and ferry me o’er +The stream of your wrath to a safer shore. _350 +The Cyclops Aetnean is cruel and bold, +He murders the strangers +That sit on his hearth, +And dreads no avengers +To rise from the earth. _355 +He roasts the men before they are cold, +He snatches them broiling from the coal, +And from the caldron pulls them whole, +And minces their flesh and gnaws their bone +With his cursed teeth, till all be gone. _360 +Farewell, foul pavilion: +Farewell, rites of dread! +The Cyclops vermilion, +With slaughter uncloying, +Now feasts on the dead, _365 +In the flesh of strangers joying! + +NOTE: +_344 ravin Rossetti; spelt ravine in B., editions 1824, 1839. + +ULYSSES: +O Jupiter! I saw within the cave +Horrible things; deeds to be feigned in words, +But not to be believed as being done. + +NOTE: +_369 not to be believed B.; not believed 1824. + +CHORUS: +What! sawest thou the impious Polypheme _370 +Feasting upon your loved companions now? + +ULYSSES: +Selecting two, the plumpest of the crowd, +He grasped them in his hands.— + +CHORUS: +Unhappy man! + +... + +ULYSSES: +Soon as we came into this craggy place, +Kindling a fire, he cast on the broad hearth _375 +The knotty limbs of an enormous oak, +Three waggon-loads at least, and then he strewed +Upon the ground, beside the red firelight, +His couch of pine-leaves; and he milked the cows, +And pouring forth the white milk, filled a bowl _380 +Three cubits wide and four in depth, as much +As would contain ten amphorae, and bound it +With ivy wreaths; then placed upon the fire +A brazen pot to boil, and made red hot +The points of spits, not sharpened with the sickle _385 +But with a fruit tree bough, and with the jaws +Of axes for Aetnean slaughterings. +And when this God-abandoned Cook of Hell +Had made all ready, he seized two of us +And killed them in a kind of measured manner; _390 +For he flung one against the brazen rivets +Of the huge caldron, and seized the other +By the foot’s tendon, and knocked out his brains +Upon the sharp edge of the craggy stone: +Then peeled his flesh with a great cooking-knife _395 +And put him down to roast. The other’s limbs +He chopped into the caldron to be boiled. +And I, with the tears raining from my eyes, +Stood near the Cyclops, ministering to him; +The rest, in the recesses of the cave, _400 +Clung to the rock like bats, bloodless with fear. +When he was filled with my companions’ flesh, +He threw himself upon the ground and sent +A loathsome exhalation from his maw. +Then a divine thought came to me. I filled _405 +The cup of Maron, and I offered him +To taste, and said:—‘Child of the Ocean God, +Behold what drink the vines of Greece produce, +The exultation and the joy of Bacchus.’ +He, satiated with his unnatural food, _410 +Received it, and at one draught drank it off, +And taking my hand, praised me:—‘Thou hast given +A sweet draught after a sweet meal, dear guest.’ +And I, perceiving that it pleased him, filled +Another cup, well knowing that the wine _415 +Would wound him soon and take a sure revenge. +And the charm fascinated him, and I +Plied him cup after cup, until the drink +Had warmed his entrails, and he sang aloud +In concert with my wailing fellow-seamen _420 +A hideous discord—and the cavern rung. +I have stolen out, so that if you will +You may achieve my safety and your own. +But say, do you desire, or not, to fly +This uncompanionable man, and dwell _425 +As was your wont among the Grecian Nymphs +Within the fanes of your beloved God? +Your father there within agrees to it, +But he is weak and overcome with wine, +And caught as if with bird-lime by the cup, _430 +He claps his wings and crows in doting joy. +You who are young escape with me, and find +Bacchus your ancient friend; unsuited he +To this rude Cyclops. + +NOTES: +_382 ten cj. Swinburne; four 1824; four cancelled for ten (possibly) B. +_387 I confess I do not understand this.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.] +_416 take]grant (as alternative) B. + +CHORUS: +Oh my dearest friend, +That I could see that day, and leave for ever _435 +The impious Cyclops. + +... + +ULYSSES: +Listen then what a punishment I have +For this fell monster, how secure a flight +From your hard servitude. + +CHORUS: +O sweeter far +Than is the music of an Asian lyre _440 +Would be the news of Polypheme destroyed. + +ULYSSES: +Delighted with the Bacchic drink he goes +To call his brother Cyclops—who inhabit +A village upon Aetna not far off. + +CHORUS: +I understand, catching him when alone _445 +You think by some measure to dispatch him, +Or thrust him from the precipice. + +NOTE: +_446 by some measure 1824; with some measures B. + +ULYSSES: +Oh no; +Nothing of that kind; my device is subtle. + +CHORUS: +How then? I heard of old that thou wert wise. + +ULYSSES: +I will dissuade him from this plan, by saying _450 +It were unwise to give the Cyclopses +This precious drink, which if enjoyed alone +Would make life sweeter for a longer time. +When, vanquished by the Bacchic power, he sleeps, +There is a trunk of olive wood within, _455 +Whose point having made sharp with this good sword +I will conceal in fire, and when I see +It is alight, will fix it, burning yet, +Within the socket of the Cyclops’ eye +And melt it out with fire—as when a man _460 +Turns by its handle a great auger round, +Fitting the framework of a ship with beams, +So will I, in the Cyclops’ fiery eye +Turn round the brand and dry the pupil up. + +CHORUS: +Joy! I am mad with joy at your device. _465 + +ULYSSES: +And then with you, my friends, and the old man, +We’ll load the hollow depth of our black ship, +And row with double strokes from this dread shore. + +CHORUS: +May I, as in libations to a God, +Share in the blinding him with the red brand? _470 +I would have some communion in his death. + +ULYSSES: +Doubtless: the brand is a great brand to hold. + +CHORUS: +Oh! I would lift an hundred waggon-loads, +If like a wasp’s nest I could scoop the eye out +Of the detested Cyclops. + +ULYSSES: +Silence now! _475 +Ye know the close device—and when I call, +Look ye obey the masters of the craft. +I will not save myself and leave behind +My comrades in the cave: I might escape, +Having got clear from that obscure recess, _480 +But ’twere unjust to leave in jeopardy +The dear companions who sailed here with me. + +CHORUS: +Come! who is first, that with his hand +Will urge down the burning brand +Through the lids, and quench and pierce _485 +The Cyclops’ eye so fiery fierce? + +SEMICHORUS 1 [SONG WITHIN]: +Listen! listen! he is coming, +A most hideous discord humming. +Drunken, museless, awkward, yelling, +Far along his rocky dwelling; _490 +Let us with some comic spell +Teach the yet unteachable. +By all means he must be blinded, +If my counsel be but minded. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +Happy thou made odorous _495 +With the dew which sweet grapes weep, +To the village hastening thus, +Seek the vines that soothe to sleep; +Having first embraced thy friend, +Thou in luxury without end, _500 +With the strings of yellow hair, +Of thy voluptuous leman fair, +Shalt sit playing on a bed!— +Speak! what door is opened? + +NOTES: +_495 thou cj. Swinburne, Rossetti; those 1824; + ‘the word is doubtful in B.’ (Locock). +_500 Thou B.; There 1824. + +CYCLOPS: +Ha! ha! ha! I’m full of wine, _505 +Heavy with the joy divine, +With the young feast oversated; +Like a merchant’s vessel freighted +To the water’s edge, my crop +Is laden to the gullet’s top. _510 +The fresh meadow grass of spring +Tempts me forth thus wandering +To my brothers on the mountains, +Who shall share the wine’s sweet fountains. +Bring the cask, O stranger, bring! _515 + +NOTE: +_508 merchant’s 1824; merchant B. + +CHORUS: +One with eyes the fairest +Cometh from his dwelling; +Some one loves thee, rarest +Bright beyond my telling. +In thy grace thou shinest _520 +Like some nymph divinest +In her caverns dewy:— +All delights pursue thee, +Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing, +Shall thy head be wreathing. _525 + +ULYSSES: +Listen, O Cyclops, for I am well skilled +In Bacchus, whom I gave thee of to drink. + +CYCLOPS: +What sort of God is Bacchus then accounted? + +ULYSSES: +The greatest among men for joy of life. + +CYCLOPS: +I gulped him down with very great delight. _530 + +ULYSSES: +This is a God who never injures men. + +CYCLOPS: +How does the God like living in a skin? + +ULYSSES: +He is content wherever he is put. + +CYCLOPS: +Gods should not have their body in a skin. + +ULYSSES: +If he gives joy, what is his skin to you? _535 + +CYCLOPS: +I hate the skin, but love the wine within. + +ULYSSES: +Stay here now: drink, and make your spirit glad. + +NOTE: +_537 Stay here now, drink B.; stay here, now drink 1824. + +CYCLOPS: +Should I not share this liquor with my brothers? + +ULYSSES: +Keep it yourself, and be more honoured so. + +CYCLOPS: +I were more useful, giving to my friends. _540 + +ULYSSES: +But village mirth breeds contests, broils, and blows. + +CYCLOPS: +When I am drunk none shall lay hands on me.— + +ULYSSES: +A drunken man is better within doors. + +CYCLOPS: +He is a fool, who drinking, loves not mirth. + +ULYSSES: +But he is wise, who drunk, remains at home. _545 + +CYCLOPS: +What shall I do, Silenus? Shall I stay? + +SILENUS: +Stay—for what need have you of pot companions? + +CYCLOPS: +Indeed this place is closely carpeted +With flowers and grass. + +SILENUS: +And in the sun-warm noon +’Tis sweet to drink. Lie down beside me now, _550 +Placing your mighty sides upon the ground. + +CYCLOPS: +What do you put the cup behind me for? + +SILENUS: +That no one here may touch it. + +CYCLOPS: +Thievish One! +You want to drink;—here place it in the midst. +And thou, O stranger, tell how art thou called? _555 + +ULYSSES: +My name is Nobody. What favour now +Shall I receive to praise you at your hands? + +CYCLOPS: +I’ll feast on you the last of your companions. + +ULYSSES: +You grant your guest a fair reward, O Cyclops. + +CYCLOPS: +Ha! what is this? Stealing the wine, you rogue! _560 + +SILENUS: +It was this stranger kissing me because +I looked so beautiful. + +CYCLOPS: +You shall repent +For kissing the coy wine that loves you not. + +SILENUS: +By Jupiter! you said that I am fair. + +CYCLOPS: +Pour out, and only give me the cup full. _565 + +SILENUS: +How is it mixed? let me observe. + +CYCLOPS: +Curse you! +Give it me so. + +SILENUS: +Not till I see you wear +That coronal, and taste the cup to you. + +CYCLOPS: +Thou wily traitor! + +SILENUS: +But the wine is sweet. +Ay, you will roar if you are caught in drinking. _570 + +CYCLOPS: +See now, my lip is clean and all my beard. + +SILENUS: +Now put your elbow right and drink again. +As you see me drink—... + +CYCLOPS: +How now? + +SILENUS: +Ye Gods, what a delicious gulp! + +CYCLOPS: +Guest, take it;—you pour out the wine for me. _575 + +ULYSSES: +The wine is well accustomed to my hand. + +CYCLOPS: +Pour out the wine! + +ULYSSES: +I pour; only be silent. + +CYCLOPS: +Silence is a hard task to him who drinks. + +ULYSSES: +Take it and drink it off; leave not a dreg. +Oh that the drinker died with his own draught! _580 + +CYCLOPS: +Papai! the vine must be a sapient plant. + +ULYSSES: +If you drink much after a mighty feast, +Moistening your thirsty maw, you will sleep well; +If you leave aught, Bacchus will dry you up. + +CYCLOPS: +Ho! ho! I can scarce rise. What pure delight! _585 +The heavens and earth appear to whirl about +Confusedly. I see the throne of Jove +And the clear congregation of the Gods. +Now if the Graces tempted me to kiss +I would not—for the loveliest of them all _590 +I would not leave this Ganymede. + +SILENUS: +Polypheme, +I am the Ganymede of Jupiter. + +CYCLOPS: +By Jove, you are; I bore you off from Dardanus. + +... + +[ULYSSES AND THE CHORUS.] + +ULYSSES: +Come, boys of Bacchus, children of high race, +This man within is folded up in sleep, _595 +And soon will vomit flesh from his fell maw; +The brand under the shed thrusts out its smoke, +No preparation needs, but to burn out +The monster’s eye;—but bear yourselves like men. + +CHORUS: +We will have courage like the adamant rock, _600 +All things are ready for you here; go in, +Before our father shall perceive the noise. + +ULYSSES: +Vulcan, Aetnean king! burn out with fire +The shining eye of this thy neighbouring monster! +And thou, O Sleep, nursling of gloomy Night, _605 +Descend unmixed on this God-hated beast, +And suffer not Ulysses and his comrades, +Returning from their famous Trojan toils, +To perish by this man, who cares not either +For God or mortal; or I needs must think _610 +That Chance is a supreme divinity, +And things divine are subject to her power. + +NOTE: +_606 God-hated 1824; God-hating (as an alternative) B. + +CHORUS: +Soon a crab the throat will seize +Of him who feeds upon his guest, +Fire will burn his lamp-like eyes _615 +In revenge of such a feast! +A great oak stump now is lying +In the ashes yet undying. +Come, Maron, come! +Raging let him fix the doom, _620 +Let him tear the eyelid up +Of the Cyclops—that his cup +May be evil! +Oh! I long to dance and revel +With sweet Bromian, long desired, _625 +In loved ivy wreaths attired; +Leaving this abandoned home— +Will the moment ever come? + +ULYSSES: +Be silent, ye wild things! Nay, hold your peace, +And keep your lips quite close; dare not to breathe, _630 +Or spit, or e’en wink, lest ye wake the monster, +Until his eye be tortured out with fire. + +CHORUS: +Nay, we are silent, and we chaw the air. + +ULYSSES: +Come now, and lend a hand to the great stake +Within—it is delightfully red hot. _635 + +CHORUS: +You then command who first should seize the stake +To burn the Cyclops’ eye, that all may share +In the great enterprise. + +SEMICHORUS 1: +We are too far; +We cannot at this distance from the door +Thrust fire into his eye. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +And we just now _640 +Have become lame! cannot move hand or foot. + +CHORUS: +The same thing has occurred to us,—our ankles +Are sprained with standing here, I know not how. + +ULYSSES: +What, sprained with standing still? + +CHORUS: +And there is dust +Or ashes in our eyes, I know not whence. _645 + +ULYSSES: +Cowardly dogs! ye will not aid me then? + +CHORUS: +With pitying my own back and my back-bone, +And with not wishing all my teeth knocked out, +This cowardice comes of itself—but stay, +I know a famous Orphic incantation _650 +To make the brand stick of its own accord +Into the skull of this one-eyed son of Earth. + +ULYSSES: +Of old I knew ye thus by nature; now +I know ye better.—I will use the aid +Of my own comrades. Yet though weak of hand _655 +Speak cheerfully, that so ye may awaken +The courage of my friends with your blithe words. + +CHORUS: +This I will do with peril of my life, +And blind you with my exhortations, Cyclops. +Hasten and thrust, _660 +And parch up to dust, +The eye of the beast +Who feeds on his guest. +Burn and blind +The Aetnean hind! _665 +Scoop and draw, +But beware lest he claw +Your limbs near his maw. + +CYCLOPS: +Ah me! my eyesight is parched up to cinders. + +CHORUS: +What a sweet paean! sing me that again! _670 + +CYCLOPS: +Ah me! indeed, what woe has fallen upon me! +But, wretched nothings, think ye not to flee +Out of this rock; I, standing at the outlet, +Will bar the way and catch you as you pass. + +CHORUS: +What are you roaring out, Cyclops? + +CYCLOPS: +I perish! _675 + +CHORUS: +For you are wicked. + +CYCLOPS: +And besides miserable. + +CHORUS: +What, did you fall into the fire when drunk? + +CYCLOPS: +’Twas Nobody destroyed me. + +CHORUS: +Why then no one +Can be to blame. + +CYCLOPS: +I say ’twas Nobody +Who blinded me. + +CHORUS: +Why then you are not blind. _680 + +CYCLOPS: +I wish you were as blind as I am. + +CHORUS: +Nay, +It cannot be that no one made you blind. + +CYCLOPS: +You jeer me; where, I ask, is Nobody? + +CHORUS: +Nowhere, O Cyclops. + +CYCLOPS: +It was that stranger ruined me:—the wretch _685 +First gave me wine and then burned out my eye, +For wine is strong and hard to struggle with. +Have they escaped, or are they yet within? + +CHORUS: +They stand under the darkness of the rock +And cling to it. + +CYCLOPS: +At my right hand or left? _690 + +CHORUS: +Close on your right. + +CYCLOPS: +Where? + +CHORUS: +Near the rock itself. +You have them. + +CYCLOPS: +Oh, misfortune on misfortune! +I’ve cracked my skull. + +CHORUS: +Now they escape you—there. + +NOTE: +_693 So B.; Now they escape you there 1824. + +CYCLOPS: +Not there, although you say so. + +CHORUS: +Not on that side. + +CYCLOPS: +Where then? + +CHORUS: +They creep about you on your left. _695 + +CYCLOPS: +Ah! I am mocked! They jeer me in my ills. + +CHORUS: +Not there! he is a little there beyond you. + +CYCLOPS: +Detested wretch! where are you? + +ULYSSES: +Far from you +I keep with care this body of Ulysses. + +CYCLOPS: +What do you say? You proffer a new name. _700 + +ULYSSES: +My father named me so; and I have taken +A full revenge for your unnatural feast; +I should have done ill to have burned down Troy +And not revenged the murder of my comrades. + +CYCLOPS: +Ai! ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished; _705 +It said that I should have my eyesight blinded +By your coming from Troy, yet it foretold +That you should pay the penalty for this +By wandering long over the homeless sea. + +ULYSSES: +I bid thee weep—consider what I say; _710 +I go towards the shore to drive my ship +To mine own land, o’er the Sicilian wave. + +CYCLOPS: +Not so, if, whelming you with this huge stone, +I can crush you and all your men together; +I will descend upon the shore, though blind, _715 +Groping my way adown the steep ravine. + +CHORUS: +And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now, +Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives. + +*** + + +EPIGRAMS. + +[These four Epigrams were published—numbers 2 and 4 without title—by +Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.] + + +1.—TO STELLA. + +FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. + +Thou wert the morning star among the living, +Ere thy fair light had fled;— +Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving +New splendour to the dead. + + +2.—KISSING HELENA. + +FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. + +Kissing Helena, together +With my kiss, my soul beside it +Came to my lips, and there I kept it,— +For the poor thing had wandered thither, +To follow where the kiss should guide it, _5 +Oh, cruel I, to intercept it! + + +3.—SPIRIT OF PLATO. + +FROM THE GREEK. + +Eagle! why soarest thou above that tomb? +To what sublime and star-ypaven home +Floatest thou?— +I am the image of swift Plato’s spirit, +Ascending heaven; Athens doth inherit _5 +His corpse below. + +NOTE: +_5 doth Boscombe manuscript; does edition 1839. + + +4.—CIRCUMSTANCE. + +FROM THE GREEK. + +A man who was about to hang himself, +Finding a purse, then threw away his rope; +The owner, coming to reclaim his pelf, +The halter found; and used it. So is Hope +Changed for Despair—one laid upon the shelf, _5 +We take the other. Under Heaven’s high cope +Fortune is God—all you endure and do +Depends on circumstance as much as you. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS. + +PROM THE GREEK OF BION. + +[Published by Forman, “Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1876.] + +I mourn Adonis dead—loveliest Adonis— +Dead, dead Adonis—and the Loves lament. +Sleep no more, Venus, wrapped in purple woof— +Wake violet-stoled queen, and weave the crown +Of Death,—’tis Misery calls,—for he is dead. _5 + +The lovely one lies wounded in the mountains, +His white thigh struck with the white tooth; he scarce +Yet breathes; and Venus hangs in agony there. +The dark blood wanders o’er his snowy limbs, +His eyes beneath their lids are lustreless, _10 +The rose has fled from his wan lips, and there +That kiss is dead, which Venus gathers yet. + +A deep, deep wound Adonis... +A deeper Venus bears upon her heart. +See, his beloved dogs are gathering round— _15 +The Oread nymphs are weeping—Aphrodite +With hair unbound is wandering through the woods, +‘Wildered, ungirt, unsandalled—the thorns pierce +Her hastening feet and drink her sacred blood. +Bitterly screaming out, she is driven on _20 +Through the long vales; and her Assyrian boy, +Her love, her husband, calls—the purple blood +From his struck thigh stains her white navel now, +Her bosom, and her neck before like snow. + +Alas for Cytherea—the Loves mourn— _25 +The lovely, the beloved is gone!—and now +Her sacred beauty vanishes away. +For Venus whilst Adonis lived was fair— +Alas! her loveliness is dead with him. +The oaks and mountains cry, Ai! ai! Adonis! _30 +The springs their waters change to tears and weep— +The flowers are withered up with grief... + +Ai! ai! ... Adonis is dead +Echo resounds ... Adonis dead. +Who will weep not thy dreadful woe. O Venus? _35 +Soon as she saw and knew the mortal wound +Of her Adonis—saw the life-blood flow +From his fair thigh, now wasting,—wailing loud +She clasped him, and cried ... ‘Stay, Adonis! +Stay, dearest one,... _40 +and mix my lips with thine— +Wake yet a while, Adonis—oh, but once, +That I may kiss thee now for the last time— +But for as long as one short kiss may live— +Oh, let thy breath flow from thy dying soul _45 +Even to my mouth and heart, that I may suck +That...’ + +NOTE: +_23 his Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry; her Boscombe manuscript, Forman. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BION. + +FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. + +[Published from the Hunt manuscripts by Forman, “Poetical Works of P. B. +S.”, 1876.] + +Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud,— +Augment your tide, O streams, with fruitless tears, +For the beloved Bion is no more. +Let every tender herb and plant and flower, +From each dejected bud and drooping bloom, _5 +Shed dews of liquid sorrow, and with breath +Of melancholy sweetness on the wind +Diffuse its languid love; let roses blush, +Anemones grow paler for the loss +Their dells have known; and thou, O hyacinth, _10 +Utter thy legend now—yet more, dumb flower, +Than ‘Ah! alas!’—thine is no common grief— +Bion the [sweetest singer] is no more. + +NOTE: +_2 tears]sorrow (as alternative) Hunt manuscript. + +*** + + +FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. + +[Published with “Alastor”, 1816.] + +Tan ala tan glaukan otan onemos atrema Balle—k.t.l. + +When winds that move not its calm surface sweep +The azure sea, I love the land no more; +The smiles of the serene and tranquil deep +Tempt my unquiet mind.—But when the roar +Of Ocean’s gray abyss resounds, and foam _5 +Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst, +I turn from the drear aspect to the home +Of Earth and its deep woods, where, interspersed, +When winds blow loud, pines make sweet melody. +Whose house is some lone bark, whose toil the sea, _10 +Whose prey the wandering fish, an evil lot +Has chosen.—But I my languid limbs will fling +Beneath the plane, where the brook’s murmuring +Moves the calm spirit, but disturbs it not. + +*** + + +PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR. + +FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. + +[Published (without title) by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. +There is a draft amongst the Hunt manuscripts.] + +Pan loved his neighbour Echo—but that child +Of Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping; +The Satyr loved with wasting madness wild +The bright nymph Lyda,—and so three went weeping. +As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr, _5 +The Satyr, Lyda; and so love consumed them.— +And thus to each—which was a woful matter— +To bear what they inflicted Justice doomed them; +For, inasmuch as each might hate the lover, +Each, loving, so was hated.—Ye that love not _10 +Be warned—in thought turn this example over, +That when ye love, the like return ye prove not. + +NOTE: +_6 so Hunt manuscript; thus 1824. +_11 So 1824; This lesson timely in your thoughts turn over, The moral of + this song in thought turn over (as alternatives) Hunt manuscript. + +*** + + +FROM VERGIL’S TENTH ECLOGUE. + +[VERSES 1-26.] + +[Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870, +from the Boscombe manuscripts now in the Bodleian. Mr. Locock +(“Examination”, etc., 1903, pages 47-50), as the result of his collation +of the same manuscripts, gives a revised and expanded version which we +print below.] + +Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse +Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream: +Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou +Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam +Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow _5 +Unmingled with the bitter Doric dew! +Begin, and, whilst the goats are browsing now +The soft leaves, in our way let us pursue +The melancholy loves of Gallus. List! +We sing not to the dead: the wild woods knew _10 +His sufferings, and their echoes... +Young Naiads,...in what far woodlands wild +Wandered ye when unworthy love possessed +Your Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled, +Nor where Parnassus’ sacred mount, nor where _15 +Aonian Aganippe expands... +The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim. +The pine-encircled mountain, Maenalus, +The cold crags of Lycaeus, weep for him; +And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals, _20 +Came shaking in his speed the budding wands +And heavy lilies which he bore: we knew +Pan the Arcadian. + +... + +‘What madness is this, Gallus? Thy heart’s care +With willing steps pursues another there.’ _25 + +*** + + +THE SAME. + +(As revised by Mr. C.D. Locock.) + +Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse +Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream: + +(Two lines missing.) + +Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou +Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam +Of Syracusan waters, mayest thou flow _5 +Unmingled with the bitter Dorian dew! +Begin, and whilst the goats are browsing now +The soft leaves, in our song let us pursue +The melancholy loves of Gallus. List! +We sing not to the deaf: the wild woods knew _10 +His sufferings, and their echoes answer... +Young Naiades, in what far woodlands wild +Wandered ye, when unworthy love possessed +Our Gallus? Nor where Pindus is up-piled, +Nor where Parnassus’ sacred mount, nor where _15 +Aonian Aganippe spreads its... + +(Three lines missing.) + +The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim, +The pine-encircled mountain, Maenalus, +The cold crags of Lycaeus weep for him. + +(Several lines missing.) + +‘What madness is this, Gallus? thy heart’s care, _20 +Lycoris, mid rude camps and Alpine snow, +With willing step pursues another there.’ + +(Some lines missing.) + +And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals, +Came shaking in his speed the budding wands +And heavy lilies which he bore: we knew _25 +Pan the Arcadian with.... +...and said, +‘Wilt thou not ever cease? Love cares not. +The meadows with fresh streams, the bees with thyme, +The goats with the green leaves of budding spring _30 +Are saturated not—nor Love with tears.’ + +*** + + +FROM VERGIL’S FOURTH GEORGIC. + +[VERSES 360 ET SEQ.] + +[Published by Locock, “Examination”, etc., 1903.] + +And the cloven waters like a chasm of mountains +Stood, and received him in its mighty portal +And led him through the deep’s untrampled fountains + +He went in wonder through the path immortal +Of his great Mother and her humid reign _5 +And groves profaned not by the step of mortal + +Which sounded as he passed, and lakes which rain +Replenished not girt round by marble caves +‘Wildered by the watery motion of the main + +Half ‘wildered he beheld the bursting waves _10 +Of every stream beneath the mighty earth +Phasis and Lycus which the ... sand paves, + +[And] The chasm where old Enipeus has its birth +And father Tyber and Anienas[?] glow +And whence Caicus, Mysian stream, comes forth _15 + +And rock-resounding Hypanis, and thou +Eridanus who bearest like empire’s sign +Two golden horns upon thy taurine brow + +Thou than whom none of the streams divine +Through garden-fields and meads with fiercer power, _20 +Burst in their tumult on the purple brine + +*** + + +SONNET. + +FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. + +[Published with “Alastor”, 1816; reprinted, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +DANTE ALIGHIERI TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI: + +Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, and I, +Led by some strong enchantment, might ascend +A magic ship, whose charmed sails should fly +With winds at will where’er our thoughts might wend, +So that no change, nor any evil chance _5 +Should mar our joyous voyage; but it might be, +That even satiety should still enhance +Between our hearts their strict community: +And that the bounteous wizard then would place +Vanna and Bice and my gentle love, _10 +Companions of our wandering, and would grace +With passionate talk, wherever we might rove, +Our time, and each were as content and free +As I believe that thou and I should be. + +_5 So 1824; And 1816. + +*** + + +THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE CONVITO. + +FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. + +[Published by Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862; dated 1820.] + +1. +Ye who intelligent the Third Heaven move, +Hear the discourse which is within my heart, +Which cannot be declared, it seems so new. +The Heaven whose course follows your power and art, +Oh, gentle creatures that ye are! me drew, _5 +And therefore may I dare to speak to you, +Even of the life which now I live—and yet +I pray that ye will hear me when I cry, +And tell of mine own heart this novelty; +How the lamenting Spirit moans in it, _10 +And how a voice there murmurs against her +Who came on the refulgence of your sphere. + +2. +A sweet Thought, which was once the life within +This heavy heart, man a time and oft +Went up before our Father’s feet, and there _15 +It saw a glorious Lady throned aloft; +And its sweet talk of her my soul did win, +So that I said, ‘Thither I too will fare.’ +That Thought is fled, and one doth now appear +Which tyrannizes me with such fierce stress, _20 +That my heart trembles—ye may see it leap— +And on another Lady bids me keep +Mine eyes, and says—Who would have blessedness +Let him but look upon that Lady’s eyes, +Let him not fear the agony of sighs. _25 + +3. +This lowly Thought, which once would talk with me +Of a bright seraph sitting crowned on high, +Found such a cruel foe it died, and so +My Spirit wept, the grief is hot even now— +And said, Alas for me! how swift could flee _30 +That piteous Thought which did my life console! +And the afflicted one ... questioning +Mine eyes, if such a Lady saw they never, +And why they would... +I said: ‘Beneath those eyes might stand for ever _35 +He whom ... regards must kill with... +To have known their power stood me in little stead, +Those eyes have looked on me, and I am dead.’ + +4. +‘Thou art not dead, but thou hast wandered, +Thou Soul of ours, who thyself dost fret,’ _40 +A Spirit of gentle Love beside me said; +For that fair Lady, whom thou dost regret, +Hath so transformed the life which thou hast led, +Thou scornest it, so worthless art thou made. +And see how meek, how pitiful, how staid, _45 +Yet courteous, in her majesty she is. +And still call thou her Woman in thy thought; +Her whom, if thou thyself deceivest not, +Thou wilt behold decked with such loveliness, +That thou wilt cry [Love] only Lord, lo! here _50 +Thy handmaiden, do what thou wilt with her. + +5. +My song, I fear that thou wilt find but few +Who fitly shall conceive thy reasoning +Of such hard matter dost thou entertain. +Whence, if by misadventure chance should bring _55 +Thee to base company, as chance may do, +Quite unaware of what thou dost contain, +I prithee comfort thy sweet self again, +My last delight; tell them that they are dull, +And bid them own that thou art beautiful. _60 + +NOTE: +C5. Published with “Epispychidion”, 1821.—ED. + +*** + + +MATILDA GATHERING FLOWERS. + +FROM THE PURGATORIO OF DANTE, CANTO 28, LINES 1-51. + +[Published in part (lines 1-8, 22-51) by Medwin, “The Angler in Wales”, +1834, “Life of Shelley”, 1847; reprinted in full by Garnett, “Relics of +Shelley”, 1862.] + +And earnest to explore within—around— +The divine wood, whose thick green living woof +Tempered the young day to the sight—I wound + +Up the green slope, beneath the forest’s roof, +With slow, soft steps leaving the mountain’s steep, _5 +And sought those inmost labyrinths, motion-proof + +Against the air, that in that stillness deep +And solemn, struck upon my forehead bare, +The slow, soft stroke of a continuous... + +In which the ... leaves tremblingly were _10 +All bent towards that part where earliest +The sacred hill obscures the morning air. + +Yet were they not so shaken from the rest, +But that the birds, perched on the utmost spray, +Incessantly renewing their blithe quest, _15 + +With perfect joy received the early day, +Singing within the glancing leaves, whose sound +Kept a low burden to their roundelay, + +Such as from bough to bough gathers around +The pine forest on bleak Chiassi’s shore, _20 +When Aeolus Sirocco has unbound. + +My slow steps had already borne me o’er +Such space within the antique wood, that I +Perceived not where I entered any more,— + +When, lo! a stream whose little waves went by, _25 +Bending towards the left through grass that grew +Upon its bank, impeded suddenly + +My going on. Water of purest hue +On earth, would appear turbid and impure +Compared with this, whose unconcealing dew, _30 + +Dark, dark, yet clear, moved under the obscure +Eternal shades, whose interwoven looms +The rays of moon or sunlight ne’er endure. + +I moved not with my feet, but mid the glooms +Pierced with my charmed eye, contemplating _35 +The mighty multitude of fresh May blooms + +Which starred that night, when, even as a thing +That suddenly, for blank astonishment, +Charms every sense, and makes all thought take wing,— + +A solitary woman! and she went _40 +Singing and gathering flower after flower, +With which her way was painted and besprent. + +‘Bright lady, who, if looks had ever power +To bear true witness of the heart within, +Dost bask under the beams of love, come lower _45 + +Towards this bank. I prithee let me win +This much of thee, to come, that I may hear +Thy song: like Proserpine, in Enna’s glen, + +Thou seemest to my fancy, singing here +And gathering flowers, as that fair maiden when _50 +She lost the Spring, and Ceres her, more dear. + +NOTES: +_2 The 1862; That 1834. +_4, _5 So 1862; +Up a green slope, beneath the starry roof, +With slow, slow steps— 1834. +_6 inmost 1862; leafy 1834. +_9 So 1862; The slow, soft stroke of a continuous sleep cj. Rossetti, 1870. +_9-_28 So 1862; + Like the sweet breathing of a child asleep: + Already I had lost myself so far + Amid that tangled wilderness that I + Perceived not where I ventured, but no fear + Of wandering from my way disturbed, when nigh + A little stream appeared; the grass that grew + Thick on its banks impeded suddenly + My going on. 1834. +_13 the 1862; their cj. Rossetti, 1870. +_26 through]the cj. Rossetti. +_28 hue 1862; dew 1834. +_30 dew 1862; hue 1834. +_32 Eternal shades 1862; Of the close boughs 1834. +_33 So 1862; No ray of moon or sunshine would endure 1834. +_34, _35 So 1862; + My feet were motionless, but mid the glooms + Darted my charmed eyes—1834. +_37 Which 1834; That 1862. +_39 So 1834; Dissolves all other thought...1862. +_40 So 1862; Appeared a solitary maid—she went 1834. +_46 Towards 1862; Unto 1834. +_47 thee, to come 1862; thee O come 1834. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT. + +ADAPTED FROM THE VITA NUOVA OF DANTE. + +[Published by Forman, “Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1876.] + +What Mary is when she a little smiles +I cannot even tell or call to mind, +It is a miracle so new, so rare. + +*** + + +UGOLINO. + +(Published by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847, with Shelley’s +corrections in italics [‘‘].—ED.) + +INFERNO 33, 22-75. + +[Translated by Medwin and corrected by Shelley.] + +Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still +Which bears the name of Famine’s Tower from me, +And where ’tis fit that many another will + +Be doomed to linger in captivity, +Shown through its narrow opening in my cell _5 +‘Moon after moon slow waning’, when a sleep, + +‘That of the future burst the veil, in dream +Visited me. It was a slumber deep +And evil; for I saw, or I did seem’ + +To see, ‘that’ tyrant Lord his revels keep _10 +The leader of the cruel hunt to them, +Chasing the wolf and wolf-cubs up the steep + +Ascent, that from ‘the Pisan is the screen’ +Of ‘Lucca’; with him Gualandi came, +Sismondi, and Lanfranchi, ‘bloodhounds lean, _15 + +Trained to the sport and eager for the game +Wide ranging in his front;’ but soon were seen +Though by so short a course, with ‘spirits tame,’ + +The father and ‘his whelps’ to flag at once, +And then the sharp fangs gored their bosoms deep. _20 +Ere morn I roused myself, and heard my sons, + +For they were with me, moaning in their sleep, +And begging bread. Ah, for those darling ones! +Right cruel art thou, if thou dost not weep + +In thinking of my soul’s sad augury; _25 +And if thou weepest not now, weep never more! +They were already waked, as wont drew nigh + +The allotted hour for food, and in that hour +Each drew a presage from his dream. When I +‘Heard locked beneath me of that horrible tower _30 + +The outlet; then into their eyes alone +I looked to read myself,’ without a sign +Or word. I wept not—turned within to stone. + +They wept aloud, and little Anselm mine, +Said—’twas my youngest, dearest little one,— _35 +“What ails thee, father? Why look so at thine?” + +In all that day, and all the following night, +I wept not, nor replied; but when to shine +Upon the world, not us, came forth the light + +Of the new sun, and thwart my prison thrown _40 +Gleamed through its narrow chink, a doleful sight, +‘Three faces, each the reflex of my own, + +Were imaged by its faint and ghastly ray;’ +Then I, of either hand unto the bone, +Gnawed, in my agony; and thinking they _45 + +Twas done from sudden pangs, in their excess, +All of a sudden raise themselves, and say, +“Father! our woes, so great, were yet the less + +Would you but eat of us,—twas ‘you who clad +Our bodies in these weeds of wretchedness; _50 +Despoil them’.” Not to make their hearts more sad, + +I ‘hushed’ myself. That day is at its close,— +Another—still we were all mute. Oh, had +The obdurate earth opened to end our woes! + +The fourth day dawned, and when the new sun shone, _55 +Outstretched himself before me as it rose +My Gaddo, saying, “Help, father! hast thou none + +For thine own child—is there no help from thee?” +He died—there at my feet—and one by one, +I saw them fall, plainly as you see me. _60 + +Between the fifth and sixth day, ere twas dawn, +I found ‘myself blind-groping o’er the three.’ +Three days I called them after they were gone. + +Famine of grief can get the mastery. + +*** + + +SONNET. + +FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI. + +GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE ALIGHIERI: + +[Published by Forman (who assigns it to 1815), “Poetical Works of P. B. +S.”, 1876.] + +Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit +Changed thoughts and vile in thee doth weep to find: +It grieves me that thy mild and gentle mind +Those ample virtues which it did inherit +Has lost. Once thou didst loathe the multitude _5 +Of blind and madding men—I then loved thee— +I loved thy lofty songs and that sweet mood +When thou wert faithful to thyself and me +I dare not now through thy degraded state +Own the delight thy strains inspire—in vain _10 +I seek what once thou wert—we cannot meet +And we were wont. Again and yet again +Ponder my words: so the false Spirit shall fly +And leave to thee thy true integrity. + +*** + + +SCENES FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO. + +FROM THE SPANISH OF CALDERON. + +[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824; dated March, 1822. +There is a transcript of Scene 1 among the Hunt manuscripts, which has +been collated by Mr. Buxton Forman.] + +SCENE 1: + +ENTER CYPRIAN, DRESSED AS A STUDENT; +CLARIN AND MOSCON AS POOR SCHOLARS, WITH BOOKS. + +CYPRIAN: +In the sweet solitude of this calm place, +This intricate wild wilderness of trees +And flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants, +Leave me; the books you brought out of the house +To me are ever best society. _5 +And while with glorious festival and song, +Antioch now celebrates the consecration +Of a proud temple to great Jupiter, +And bears his image in loud jubilee +To its new shrine, I would consume what still _10 +Lives of the dying day in studious thought, +Far from the throng and turmoil. You, my friends, +Go, and enjoy the festival; it will +Be worth your pains. You may return for me +When the sun seeks its grave among the billows _15 +Which, among dim gray clouds on the horizon, +Dance like white plumes upon a hearse;— and here +I shall expect you. + +NOTES: +_14 So transcr.; Be worth the labour, and return for me 1824. +_16, _17 So 1824; +Hid among dim gray clouds on the horizon +Which dance like plumes—transcr., Forman. + +MOSCON: +I cannot bring my mind, +Great as my haste to see the festival +Certainly is, to leave you, Sir, without _20 +Just saying some three or four thousand words. +How is it possible that on a day +Of such festivity, you can be content +To come forth to a solitary country +With three or four old books, and turn your back _25 +On all this mirth? + +NOTES: +_21 thousand transcr.; hundred 1824. +_23 be content transcr.; bring your mind 1824. + +CLARIN: +My master’s in the right; +There is not anything more tiresome +Than a procession day, with troops, and priests, +And dances, and all that. + +NOTE: +_28 and priests transcr.; of men 1824. + +MOSCON: +From first to last, +Clarin, you are a temporizing flatterer; _30 +You praise not what you feel but what he does;— +Toadeater! + +CLARIN: +You lie—under a mistake— +For this is the most civil sort of lie +That can be given to a man’s face. I now +Say what I think. + +CYPRIAN: +Enough, you foolish fellows! _35 +Puffed up with your own doting ignorance, +You always take the two sides of one question. +Now go; and as I said, return for me +When night falls, veiling in its shadows wide +This glorious fabric of the universe. _40 + +NOTE: +_36 doting ignorance transcr.; ignorance and pride 1824. + +MOSCON: +How happens it, although you can maintain +The folly of enjoying festivals, +That yet you go there? + +CLARIN: +Nay, the consequence +Is clear:—who ever did what he advises +Others to do?— + +MOSCON: +Would that my feet were wings, _45 +So would I fly to Livia. + +[EXIT.] + +CLARIN: +To speak truth, +Livia is she who has surprised my heart; +But he is more than half-way there.—Soho! +Livia, I come; good sport, Livia, soho! + +[EXIT.] + +CYPRIAN: +Now, since I am alone, let me examine _50 +The question which has long disturbed my mind +With doubt, since first I read in Plinius +The words of mystic import and deep sense +In which he defines God. My intellect +Can find no God with whom these marks and signs _55 +Fitly agree. It is a hidden truth +Which I must fathom. + +[CYPRIAN READS; +THE DAEMON, DRESSED IN A COURT DRESS, ENTERS.] + +NOTE: +_57 Stage Direction: So transcr. Reads. Enter the Devil as a fine + gentleman 1824. + +DAEMON: +Search even as thou wilt, +But thou shalt never find what I can hide. + +CYPRIAN: +What noise is that among the boughs? Who moves? +What art thou?— + +DAEMON: +’Tis a foreign gentleman. _60 +Even from this morning I have lost my way +In this wild place; and my poor horse at last, +Quite overcome, has stretched himself upon +The enamelled tapestry of this mossy mountain, +And feeds and rests at the same time. I was _65 +Upon my way to Antioch upon business +Of some importance, but wrapped up in cares +(Who is exempt from this inheritance?) +I parted from my company, and lost +My way, and lost my servants and my comrades. _70 + +CYPRIAN: +’Tis singular that even within the sight +Of the high towers of Antioch you could lose +Your way. Of all the avenues and green paths +Of this wild wood there is not one but leads, +As to its centre, to the walls of Antioch; _75 +Take which you will, you cannot miss your road. + +DAEMON: +And such is ignorance! Even in the sight +Of knowledge, it can draw no profit from it. +But as it still is early, and as I +Have no acquaintances in Antioch, _80 +Being a stranger there, I will even wait +The few surviving hours of the day, +Until the night shall conquer it. I see +Both by your dress and by the books in which +You find delight and company, that you _85 +Are a great student;—for my part, I feel +Much sympathy in such pursuits. + +NOTE: +_87 in transcr.; with 1824. + +CYPRIAN: +Have you +Studied much? + +DAEMON: +No,—and yet I know enough +Not to be wholly ignorant. + +CYPRIAN: +Pray, Sir, +What science may you know?— + +DAEMON: +Many. + +CYPRIAN: +Alas! _90 +Much pains must we expend on one alone, +And even then attain it not;—but you +Have the presumption to assert that you +Know many without study. + +DAEMON: +And with truth. +For in the country whence I come the sciences _95 +Require no learning,—they are known. + +NOTE: +_95 come the sciences]come sciences 1824. + +CYPRIAN: +Oh, would +I were of that bright country! for in this +The more we study, we the more discover +Our ignorance. + +DAEMON: +It is so true, that I +Had so much arrogance as to oppose _100 +The chair of the most high Professorship, +And obtained many votes, and, though I lost, +The attempt was still more glorious, than the failure +Could be dishonourable. If you believe not, +Let us refer it to dispute respecting _105 +That which you know the best, and although I +Know not the opinion you maintain, and though +It be the true one, I will take the contrary. + +NOTE: +_106 the transcr.; wanting, 1824. + +CYPRIAN: +The offer gives me pleasure. I am now +Debating with myself upon a passage _110 +Of Plinius, and my mind is racked with doubt +To understand and know who is the God +Of whom he speaks. + +DAEMON: +It is a passage, if +I recollect it right, couched in these words +‘God is one supreme goodness, one pure essence, _115 +One substance, and one sense, all sight, all hands.’ + +CYPRIAN: +’Tis true. + +DAEMON: +What difficulty find you here? + +CYPRIAN: +I do not recognize among the Gods +The God defined by Plinius; if he must +Be supreme goodness, even Jupiter _120 +Is not supremely good; because we see +His deeds are evil, and his attributes +Tainted with mortal weakness; in what manner +Can supreme goodness be consistent with +The passions of humanity? + +DAEMON: +The wisdom _125 +Of the old world masked with the names of Gods +The attributes of Nature and of Man; +A sort of popular philosophy. + +CYPRIAN: +This reply will not satisfy me, for +Such awe is due to the high name of God _130 +That ill should never be imputed. Then, +Examining the question with more care, +It follows, that the Gods would always will +That which is best, were they supremely good. +How then does one will one thing, one another? _135 +And that you may not say that I allege +Poetical or philosophic learning:— +Consider the ambiguous responses +Of their oracular statues; from two shrines +Two armies shall obtain the assurance of _140 +One victory. Is it not indisputable +That two contending wills can never lead +To the same end? And, being opposite, +If one be good, is not the other evil? +Evil in God is inconceivable; _145 +But supreme goodness fails among the Gods +Without their union. + +NOTE: +_133 would transcr.; should 1824. + +DAEMON: +I deny your major. +These responses are means towards some end +Unfathomed by our intellectual beam. +They are the work of Providence, and more _150 +The battle’s loss may profit those who lose, +Than victory advantage those who win. + +CYPRIAN: +That I admit; and yet that God should not +(Falsehood is incompatible with deity) +Assure the victory; it would be enough _155 +To have permitted the defeat. If God +Be all sight,—God, who had beheld the truth, +Would not have given assurance of an end +Never to be accomplished: thus, although +The Deity may according to his attributes _160 +Be well distinguished into persons, yet +Even in the minutest circumstance +His essence must be one. + +NOTE: +_157 had transcr.; wanting, 1824. + +DAEMON: +To attain the end +The affections of the actors in the scene +Must have been thus influenced by his voice. _165 + +CYPRIAN: +But for a purpose thus subordinate +He might have employed Genii, good or evil,— +A sort of spirits called so by the learned, +Who roam about inspiring good or evil, +And from whose influence and existence we _170 +May well infer our immortality. +Thus God might easily, without descent +To a gross falsehood in his proper person, +Have moved the affections by this mediation +To the just point. + +NOTE: +_172 descent transcr.; descending 1824. + +DAEMON: +These trifling contradictions _175 +Do not suffice to impugn the unity +Of the high Gods; in things of great importance +They still appear unanimous; consider +That glorious fabric, man,—his workmanship +Is stamped with one conception. + +CYPRIAN: +Who made man _180 +Must have, methinks, the advantage of the others. +If they are equal, might they not have risen +In opposition to the work, and being +All hands, according to our author here, +Have still destroyed even as the other made? _185 +If equal in their power, unequal only +In opportunity, which of the two +Will remain conqueror? + +NOTE: +_186 unequal only transcr.; and only unequal 1824. + +DAEMON: +On impossible +And false hypothesis there can be built +No argument. Say, what do you infer _190 +From this? + +CYPRIAN: +That there must be a mighty God +Of supreme goodness and of highest grace, +All sight, all hands, all truth, infallible, +Without an equal and without a rival, +The cause of all things and the effect of nothing, _195 +One power, one will, one substance, and one essence. +And, in whatever persons, one or two, +His attributes may be distinguished, one +Sovereign power, one solitary essence, +One cause of all cause. + +NOTE: +_197 And]query, Ay? + +[THEY RISE.] + +DAEMON: +How can I impugn _200 +So clear a consequence? + +NOTE: +_200 all cause 1824; all things transcr. + +CYPRIAN: +Do you regret +My victory? + +DAEMON: +Who but regrets a check +In rivalry of wit? I could reply +And urge new difficulties, but will now +Depart, for I hear steps of men approaching, _205 +And it is time that I should now pursue +My journey to the city. + +CYPRIAN: +Go in peace! + +DAEMON: +Remain in peace!—Since thus it profits him +To study, I will wrap his senses up +In sweet oblivion of all thought but of _210 +A piece of excellent beauty; and, as I +Have power given me to wage enmity +Against Justina’s soul, I will extract +From one effect two vengeances. + +[ASIDE AND EXIT.] + +NOTE: +_214 Stage direction So transcr.; Exit 1824. + +CYPRIAN: +I never +Met a more learned person. Let me now _215 +Revolve this doubt again with careful mind. + +[HE READS.] + +[FLORO AND LELIO ENTER.] + +LELIO: +Here stop. These toppling rocks and tangled boughs, +Impenetrable by the noonday beam, +Shall be sole witnesses of what we— + +FLORO: +Draw! +If there were words, here is the place for deeds. _220 + +LELIO: +Thou needest not instruct me; well I know +That in the field, the silent tongue of steel +Speaks thus,— + +[THEY FIGHT.] + +CYPRIAN: +Ha! what is this? Lelio,—Floro, +Be it enough that Cyprian stands between you, +Although unarmed. + +LELIO: +Whence comest thou, to stand _225 +Between me and my vengeance? + +FLORO: +From what rocks +And desert cells? + +[ENTER MOSCON AND CLARIN.] + +MOSCON: +Run! run! for where we left +My master. I now hear the clash of swords. + +NOTES: +_228 I now hear transcr.; we hear 1824. +_227-_229 lines of otherwise arranged, 1824. + +CLARIN: +I never run to approach things of this sort +But only to avoid them. Sir! Cyprian! sir! _230 + +CYPRIAN: +Be silent, fellows! What! two friends who are +In blood and fame the eyes and hope of Antioch, +One of the noble race of the Colalti, +The other son o’ the Governor, adventure +And cast away, on some slight cause no doubt, _235 +Two lives, the honour of their country? + +NOTE: +_233 race transcr.; men 1824. Colalti]Colatti 1824. + +LELIO: +Cyprian! +Although my high respect towards your person +Holds now my sword suspended, thou canst not +Restore it to the slumber of the scabbard: +Thou knowest more of science than the duel; _240 +For when two men of honour take the field, +No counsel nor respect can make them friends +But one must die in the dispute. + +NOTE: +_239 of the transcr.; of its 1824. +_242 No counsel nor 1839, 1st edition; + No [...] or 1824; No reasoning or transcr. +_243 dispute transcr. pursuit 1824. + +FLORO: +I pray +That you depart hence with your people, and +Leave us to finish what we have begun _245 +Without advantage.— + +CYPRIAN: +Though you may imagine +That I know little of the laws of duel, +Which vanity and valour instituted, +You are in error. By my birth I am +Held no less than yourselves to know the limits _250 +Of honour and of infamy, nor has study +Quenched the free spirit which first ordered them; +And thus to me, as one well experienced +In the false quicksands of the sea of honour, +You may refer the merits of the case; _255 +And if I should perceive in your relation +That either has the right to satisfaction +From the other, I give you my word of honour +To leave you. + +NOTE: +_253 well omit, cj. Forman. + +LELIO: +Under this condition then +I will relate the cause, and you will cede _260 +And must confess the impossibility +Of compromise; for the same lady is +Beloved by Floro and myself. + +FLORO: +It seems +Much to me that the light of day should look +Upon that idol of my heart—but he— _265 +Leave us to fight, according to thy word. + +CYPRIAN: +Permit one question further: is the lady +Impossible to hope or not? + +LELIO: +She is +So excellent, that if the light of day +Should excite Floro’s jealousy, it were _270 +Without just cause, for even the light of day +Trembles to gaze on her. + +CYPRIAN: +Would you for your +Part, marry her? + +FLORO: +Such is my confidence. + +CYPRIAN: +And you? + +LELIO: +Oh! would that I could lift my hope +So high, for though she is extremely poor, _275 +Her virtue is her dowry. + +CYPRIAN: +And if you both +Would marry her, is it not weak and vain, +Culpable and unworthy, thus beforehand +To slur her honour? What would the world say +If one should slay the other, and if she _280 +Should afterwards espouse the murderer? + +[THE RIVALS AGREE TO REFER THEIR QUARREL TO CYPRIAN; WHO IN CONSEQUENCE +VISITS JUSTINA, AND BECOMES ENAMOURED OF HER; SHE DISDAINS HIM, AND HE +RETIRES TO A SOLITARY SEA-SHORE.] + + +SCENE 2. + +CYPRIAN: +O memory! permit it not +That the tyrant of my thought +Be another soul that still +Holds dominion o’er the will, +That would refuse, but can no more, _5 +To bend, to tremble, and adore. +Vain idolatry!—I saw, +And gazing, became blind with error; +Weak ambition, which the awe +Of her presence bound to terror! _10 +So beautiful she was—and I, +Between my love and jealousy, +Am so convulsed with hope and fear, +Unworthy as it may appear;— +So bitter is the life I live, _15 +That, hear me, Hell! I now would give +To thy most detested spirit +My soul, for ever to inherit, +To suffer punishment and pine, +So this woman may be mine. _20 +Hear’st thou, Hell! dost thou reject it? +My soul is offered! + +DAEMON (UNSEEN): +I accept it. + +[TEMPEST, WITH THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.] + +CYPRIAN: +What is this? ye heavens for ever pure, +At once intensely radiant and obscure! +Athwart the aethereal halls _25 +The lightning’s arrow and the thunder-balls +The day affright, +As from the horizon round, +Burst with earthquake sound, +In mighty torrents the electric fountains;— _30 +Clouds quench the sun, and thunder-smoke +Strangles the air, and fire eclipses Heaven. +Philosophy, thou canst not even +Compel their causes underneath thy yoke: +From yonder clouds even to the waves below _35 +The fragments of a single ruin choke +Imagination’s flight; +For, on flakes of surge, like feathers light, +The ashes of the desolation, cast +Upon the gloomy blast, _40 +Tell of the footsteps of the storm; +And nearer, see, the melancholy form +Of a great ship, the outcast of the sea, +Drives miserably! +And it must fly the pity of the port, _45 +Or perish, and its last and sole resort +Is its own raging enemy. +The terror of the thrilling cry +Was a fatal prophecy +Of coming death, who hovers now _50 +Upon that shattered prow, +That they who die not may be dying still. +And not alone the insane elements +Are populous with wild portents, +But that sad ship is as a miracle _55 +Of sudden ruin, for it drives so fast +It seems as if it had arrayed its form +With the headlong storm. +It strikes—I almost feel the shock,— +It stumbles on a jagged rock,— _60 +Sparkles of blood on the white foam are cast. + +[A TEMPEST.] + +ALL EXCLAIM [WITHIN]: +We are all lost! + +DAEMON [WITHIN]: +Now from this plank will I +Pass to the land and thus fulfil my scheme. + +CYPRIAN: +As in contempt of the elemental rage +A man comes forth in safety, while the ship’s _65 +Great form is in a watery eclipse +Obliterated from the Oceans page, +And round its wreck the huge sea-monsters sit, +A horrid conclave, and the whistling wave +Is heaped over its carcase, like a grave. _70 + +[THE DAEMON ENTERS, AS ESCAPED FROM THE SEA.] + +DAEMON [ASIDE]: +It was essential to my purposes +To wake a tumult on the sapphire ocean, +That in this unknown form I might at length +Wipe out the blot of the discomfiture +Sustained upon the mountain, and assail _75 +With a new war the soul of Cyprian, +Forging the instruments of his destruction +Even from his love and from his wisdom.—O +Beloved earth, dear mother, in thy bosom +I seek a refuge from the monster who _80 +Precipitates itself upon me. + +CYPRIAN: +Friend, +Collect thyself; and be the memory +Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrow +But as a shadow of the past,—for nothing +Beneath the circle of the moon, but flows _85 +And changes, and can never know repose. + +DAEMON: +And who art thou, before whose feet my fate +Has prostrated me? + +CYPRIAN: +One who, moved with pity, +Would soothe its stings. + +DAEMON: +Oh, that can never be! +No solace can my lasting sorrows find. _90 + +CYPRIAN: +Wherefore? + +DAEMON: +Because my happiness is lost. +Yet I lament what has long ceased to be +The object of desire or memory, +And my life is not life. + +CYPRIAN: +Now, since the fury +Of this earthquaking hurricane is still, _95 +And the crystalline Heaven has reassumed +Its windless calm so quickly, that it seems +As if its heavy wrath had been awakened +Only to overwhelm that vessel,—speak, +Who art thou, and whence comest thou? + +DAEMON: +Far more _100 +My coming hither cost, than thou hast seen +Or I can tell. Among my misadventures +This shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou hear? + +CYPRIAN: +Speak. + +DAEMON: +Since thou desirest, I will then unveil +Myself to thee;—for in myself I am _105 +A world of happiness and misery; +This I have lost, and that I must lament +Forever. In my attributes I stood +So high and so heroically great, +In lineage so supreme, and with a genius _110 +Which penetrated with a glance the world +Beneath my feet, that, won by my high merit, +A king—whom I may call the King of kings, +Because all others tremble in their pride +Before the terrors of His countenance, _115 +In His high palace roofed with brightest gems +Of living light—call them the stars of Heaven— +Named me His counsellor. But the high praise +Stung me with pride and envy, and I rose +In mighty competition, to ascend _120 +His seat and place my foot triumphantly +Upon His subject thrones. Chastised, I know +The depth to which ambition falls; too mad +Was the attempt, and yet more mad were now +Repentance of the irrevocable deed:— _125 +Therefore I chose this ruin, with the glory +Of not to be subdued, before the shame +Of reconciling me with Him who reigns +By coward cession.—Nor was I alone, +Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone; _130 +And there was hope, and there may still be hope, +For many suffrages among His vassals +Hailed me their lord and king, and many still +Are mine, and many more, perchance shall be. +Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious, _135 +I left His seat of empire, from mine eye +Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words +With inauspicious thunderings shook Heaven, +Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong, +And imprecating on His prostrate slaves _140 +Rapine, and death, and outrage. Then I sailed +Over the mighty fabric of the world,— +A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands, +A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves +And craggy shores; and I have wandered over _145 +The expanse of these wide wildernesses +In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved +In the light breathings of the invisible wind, +And which the sea has made a dustless ruin, +Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests _150 +I seek a man, whom I must now compel +To keep his word with me. I came arrayed +In tempest, and although my power could well +Bridle the forest winds in their career, +For other causes I forbore to soothe _155 +Their fury to Favonian gentleness; +I could and would not; +[ASIDE.] +(thus I wake in him +A love of magic art). Let not this tempest, +Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder; +For by my art the sun would turn as pale _160 +As his weak sister with unwonted fear; +And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven +Written as in a record; I have pierced +The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres +And know them as thou knowest every corner _165 +Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee +That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work +A charm over this waste and savage wood, +This Babylon of crags and aged trees, +Filling its leafy coverts with a horror _170 +Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest +Of these wild oaks and pines—and as from thee +I have received the hospitality +Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit +Of years of toil in recompense; whate’er _175 +Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought +As object of desire, that shall be thine. + +... + +And thenceforth shall so firm an amity +’Twixt thee and me be, that neither Fortune, +The monstrous phantom which pursues success, _180 +That careful miser, that free prodigal, +Who ever alternates, with changeful hand, +Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time, +That lodestar of the ages, to whose beam +The winged years speed o’er the intervals _185 +Of their unequal revolutions; nor +Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars +Rule and adorn the world, can ever make +The least division between thee and me, +Since now I find a refuge in thy favour. _190 + +NOTES: +_146 wide glassy wildernesses Rossetti. +_150 Seeking forever cj. Forman. +_154 forest]fiercest cj. Rossetti. + + +SCENE 3. + +THE DAEMON TEMPTS JUSTINA, WHO IS A CHRISTIAN. + +DAEMON: +Abyss of Hell! I call on thee, +Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy! +From thy prison-house set free +The spirits of voluptuous death, +That with their mighty breath _5 +They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts; +Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes +Be peopled from thy shadowy deep, +Till her guiltless fantasy +Full to overflowing be! _10 +And with sweetest harmony, +Let birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things move +To love, only to love. +Let nothing meet her eyes +But signs of Love’s soft victories; _15 +Let nothing meet her ear +But sounds of Love’s sweet sorrow, +So that from faith no succour she may borrow, +But, guided by my spirit blind +And in a magic snare entwined, _20 +She may now seek Cyprian. +Begin, while I in silence bind +My voice, when thy sweet song thou hast began. + +NOTE: +_18 she may]may she 1824. + +A VOICE [WITHIN]: +What is the glory far above +All else in human life? + +ALL: +Love! love! _25 + +[WHILE THESE WORDS ARE SUNG, +THE DAEMON GOES OUT AT ONE DOOR, +AND JUSTINA ENTERS AT ANOTHER.] + +THE FIRST VOICE: +There is no form in which the fire +Of love its traces has impressed not. +Man lives far more in love’s desire +Than by life’s breath, soon possessed not. +If all that lives must love or die, _30 +All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky, +With one consent to Heaven cry +That the glory far above +All else in life is— + +ALL: +Love! oh, Love! + +JUSTINA: +Thou melancholy Thought which art _35 +So flattering and so sweet, to thee +When did I give the liberty +Thus to afflict my heart? +What is the cause of this new Power +Which doth my fevered being move, _40 +Momently raging more and more? +What subtle Pain is kindled now +Which from my heart doth overflow +Into my senses?— + +NOTE: +_36 flattering Boscombe manuscript; fluttering 1824. + +ALL: +Love! oh, Love! + +JUSTINA: +’Tis that enamoured Nightingale _45 +Who gives me the reply; +He ever tells the same soft tale +Of passion and of constancy +To his mate, who rapt and fond, +Listening sits, a bough beyond. _50 + +Be silent, Nightingale—no more +Make me think, in hearing thee +Thus tenderly thy love deplore, +If a bird can feel his so, +What a man would feel for me. _55 +And, voluptuous Vine, O thou +Who seekest most when least pursuing,— +To the trunk thou interlacest +Art the verdure which embracest, +And the weight which is its ruin,— _60 +No more, with green embraces, Vine, +Make me think on what thou lovest,— +For whilst thus thy boughs entwine +I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist, +How arms might be entangled too. _65 + +Light-enchanted Sunflower, thou +Who gazest ever true and tender +On the sun’s revolving splendour! +Follow not his faithless glance +With thy faded countenance, _70 +Nor teach my beating heart to fear, +If leaves can mourn without a tear, +How eyes must weep! O Nightingale, +Cease from thy enamoured tale,— +Leafy Vine, unwreathe thy bower, _75 +Restless Sunflower, cease to move,— +Or tell me all, what poisonous Power +Ye use against me— + +NOTES: +_58 To]Who to cj. Rossetti. +_63 whilst thus Rossetti, Forman, Dowden; whilst thou thus 1824. + +ALL: +Love! Love! Love! + +JUSTINA: +It cannot be!—Whom have I ever loved? +Trophies of my oblivion and disdain, _80 +Floro and Lelio did I not reject? +And Cyprian?— +[SHE BECOMES TROUBLED AT THE NAME OF CYPRIAN.] +Did I not requite him +With such severity, that he has fled +Where none has ever heard of him again?— +Alas! I now begin to fear that this _85 +May be the occasion whence desire grows bold, +As if there were no danger. From the moment +That I pronounced to my own listening heart, +‘Cyprian is absent!’—O me miserable! +I know not what I feel! +[MORE CALMLY.] +It must be pity _90 +To think that such a man, whom all the world +Admired, should be forgot by all the world, +And I the cause. +[SHE AGAIN BECOMES TROUBLED.] +And yet if it were pity, +Floro and Lelio might have equal share, +For they are both imprisoned for my sake. _95 +[CALMLY.] +Alas! what reasonings are these? it is +Enough I pity him, and that, in vain, +Without this ceremonious subtlety. +And, woe is me! I know not where to find him now, +Even should I seek him through this wide world. _100 + +NOTE: +_89 me miserable]miserable me editions 1839. + +[ENTER DAEMON.] + +DAEMON: +Follow, and I will lead thee where he is. + +JUSTINA: +And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither, +Into my chamber through the doors and locks? +Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madness +Has formed in the idle air? + +DAEMON: +No. I am one _105 +Called by the Thought which tyrannizes thee +From his eternal dwelling; who this day +Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian. + +JUSTINA: +So shall thy promise fail. This agony +Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul _110 +May sweep imagination in its storm; +The will is firm. + +DAEMON: +Already half is done +In the imagination of an act. +The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains; +Let not the will stop half-way on the road. _115 + +JUSTINA: +I will not be discouraged, nor despair, +Although I thought it, and although ’tis true +That thought is but a prelude to the deed:— +Thought is not in my power, but action is: +I will not move my foot to follow thee. _120 + +DAEMON: +But a far mightier wisdom than thine own +Exerts itself within thee, with such power +Compelling thee to that which it inclines +That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then +Resist, Justina? + +NOTE: +_123 inclines]inclines to cj. Rossetti. + +JUSTINA: +By my free-will. + +DAEMON: +I _125 +Must force thy will. + +JUSTINA: +It is invincible; +It were not free if thou hadst power upon it. + +[HE DRAWS, BUT CANNOT MOVE HER.] + +DAEMON: +Come, where a pleasure waits thee. + +JUSTINA: +It were bought +Too dear. + +DAEMON: +‘Twill soothe thy heart to softest peace. + +JUSTINA: +’Tis dread captivity. + +DAEMON: +’Tis joy, ’tis glory. _130 + +JUSTINA: +’Tis shame, ’tis torment, ’tis despair. + +DAEMON: +But how +Canst thou defend thyself from that or me, +If my power drags thee onward? + +JUSTINA: +My defence +Consists in God. + +[HE VAINLY ENDEAVOURS TO FORCE HER, AND AT LAST RELEASES HER.] + +DAEMON: +Woman, thou hast subdued me, +Only by not owning thyself subdued. _135 +But since thou thus findest defence in God, +I will assume a feigned form, and thus +Make thee a victim of my baffled rage. +For I will mask a spirit in thy form +Who will betray thy name to infamy, _140 +And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss, +First by dishonouring thee, and then by turning +False pleasure to true ignominy. + +[EXIT.] + +JUSTINA: I +Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven +May scatter thy delusions, and the blot _145 +Upon my fame vanish in idle thought, +Even as flame dies in the envious air, +And as the floweret wanes at morning frost; +And thou shouldst never—But, alas! to whom +Do I still speak?—Did not a man but now _150 +Stand here before me?—No, I am alone, +And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly? +Or can the heated mind engender shapes +From its own fear? Some terrible and strange +Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord! _155 +Livia!— + +[ENTER LISANDER AND LIVIA.] + +LISANDER: +Oh, my daughter! What? + +LIVIA: +What! + +JUSTINA: +Saw you +A man go forth from my apartment now?— +I scarce contain myself! + +LISANDER: +A man here! + +JUSTINA: +Have you not seen him? + +LIVIA: +No, Lady. + +JUSTINA: I saw him. + +LISANDER: ’Tis impossible; the doors _160 +Which led to this apartment were all locked. + +LIVIA [ASIDE]: +I daresay it was Moscon whom she saw, +For he was locked up in my room. + +LISANDER: +It must +Have been some image of thy fantasy. +Such melancholy as thou feedest is _165 +Skilful in forming such in the vain air +Out of the motes and atoms of the day. + +LIVIA: +My master’s in the right. + +JUSTINA: +Oh, would it were +Delusion; but I fear some greater ill. +I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom _170 +My heart was torn in fragments; ay, +Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame; +So potent was the charm that, had not God +Shielded my humble innocence from wrong, +I should have sought my sorrow and my shame _175 +With willing steps.—Livia, quick, bring my cloak, +For I must seek refuge from these extremes +Even in the temple of the highest God +Where secretly the faithful worship. + +LIVIA: +Here. + +NOTE: +_179 Where Rossetti; Which 1824. + +JUSTINA [PUTTING ON HER CLOAK]: +In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I _180 +Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, +Wasting away! + +LISANDER: +And I will go with thee. + +LIVIA: +When I once see them safe out of the house +I shall breathe freely. + +JUSTINA: +So do I confide +In thy just favour, Heaven! + +LISANDER: +Let us go. _185 + +JUSTINA: +Thine is the cause, great God! turn for my sake, +And for Thine own, mercifully to me! + +*** + + +STANZAS FROM CALDERON’S CISMA DE INGLATERRA. + +TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY. + +[Published by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847, +with Shelley’s corrections in ‘‘.] + +1. +Hast thou not seen, officious with delight, +Move through the illumined air about the flower +The Bee, that fears to drink its purple light, +Lest danger lurk within that Rose’s bower? +Hast thou not marked the moth’s enamoured flight _5 +About the Taper’s flame at evening hour; +‘Till kindle in that monumental fire +His sunflower wings their own funereal pyre? + +2. +My heart, its wishes trembling to unfold. +Thus round the Rose and Taper hovering came, _10 +‘And Passion’s slave, Distrust, in ashes cold. +Smothered awhile, but could not quench the flame,’— +Till Love, that grows by disappointment bold, +And Opportunity, had conquered Shame; +And like the Bee and Moth, in act to close, _15 +‘I burned my wings, and settled on the Rose.’ + +*** + + +SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE. + +[Published in part (Scene 2) in “The Liberal”, No. 1, 1822; +in full, by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.] + +SCENE 1.—PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. + +THE LORD AND THE HOST OF HEAVEN. + +ENTER THREE ARCHANGELS. + +RAPHAEL: +The sun makes music as of old +Amid the rival spheres of Heaven, +On its predestined circle rolled +With thunder speed: the Angels even +Draw strength from gazing on its glance, _5 +Though none its meaning fathom may:— +The world’s unwithered countenance +Is bright as at Creation’s day. + +GABRIEL: +And swift and swift, with rapid lightness, +The adorned Earth spins silently, _10 +Alternating Elysian brightness +With deep and dreadful night; the sea +Foams in broad billows from the deep +Up to the rocks, and rocks and Ocean, +Onward, with spheres which never sleep, _15 +Are hurried in eternal motion. + +MICHAEL: +And tempests in contention roar +From land to sea, from sea to land; +And, raging, weave a chain of power, +Which girds the earth, as with a band.— _20 +A flashing desolation there, +Flames before the thunder’s way; +But Thy servants, Lord, revere +The gentle changes of Thy day. + +CHORUS OF THE THREE: +The Angels draw strength from Thy glance, _25 +Though no one comprehend Thee may;— +Thy world’s unwithered countenance +Is bright as on Creation’s day. + +NOTE: +_28 (RAPHAEL: +The sun sounds, according to ancient custom, +In the song of emulation of his brother-spheres. +And its fore-written circle +Fulfils with a step of thunder. +Its countenance gives the Angels strength +Though no one can fathom it. +The incredible high works +Are excellent as at the first day. + +GABRIEL: +And swift, and inconceivably swift +The adornment of earth winds itself round, +And exchanges Paradise-clearness +With deep dreadful night. +The sea foams in broad waves +From its deep bottom, up to the rocks, +And rocks and sea are torn on together +In the eternal swift course of the spheres. + +MICHAEL: +And storms roar in emulation +From sea to land, from land to sea, +And make, raging, a chain +Of deepest operation round about. +There flames a flashing destruction +Before the path of the thunderbolt. +But Thy servants, Lord, revere +The gentle alternations of Thy day. + +CHORUS: +Thy countenance gives the Angels strength, +Though none can comprehend Thee: +And all Thy lofty works +Are excellent as at the first day. + +Such is a literal translation of this astonishing chorus; it is +impossible to represent in another language the melody of the +versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas +escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to +find a caput mortuum.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) + +[ENTER MEPHISTOPHELES.] + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough +To interest Thyself in our affairs, _30 +And ask, ‘How goes it with you there below?’ +And as indulgently at other times +Thou tookest not my visits in ill part, +Thou seest me here once more among Thy household. +Though I should scandalize this company, _35 +You will excuse me if I do not talk +In the high style which they think fashionable; +My pathos certainly would make You laugh too, +Had You not long since given over laughing. +Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds; _40 +I observe only how men plague themselves;— +The little god o’ the world keeps the same stamp, +As wonderful as on creation’s day:— +A little better would he live, hadst Thou +Not given him a glimpse of Heaven’s light _45 +Which he calls reason, and employs it only +To live more beastlily than any beast. +With reverence to Your Lordship be it spoken, +He’s like one of those long-legged grasshoppers, +Who flits and jumps about, and sings for ever _50 +The same old song i’ the grass. There let him lie, +Burying his nose in every heap of dung. + +NOTES: +_38 certainly would editions 1839; would certainly 1824. +_47 beastlily 1824; beastily editions 1839. + +THE LORD: +Have you no more to say? Do you come here +Always to scold, and cavil, and complain? +Seems nothing ever right to you on earth? _55 + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best. +Even I am sorry for man’s days of sorrow; +I could myself almost give up the pleasure +Of plaguing the poor things. + +THE LORD: +Knowest thou Faust? + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +The Doctor? + +THE LORD: +Ay; My servant Faust. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +In truth _60 +He serves You in a fashion quite his own; +And the fool’s meat and drink are not of earth. +His aspirations bear him on so far +That he is half aware of his own folly, +For he demands from Heaven its fairest star, _65 +And from the earth the highest joy it bears, +Yet all things far, and all things near, are vain +To calm the deep emotions of his breast. + +THE LORD: +Though he now serves Me in a cloud of error, +I will soon lead him forth to the clear day. _70 +When trees look green, full well the gardener knows +That fruits and blooms will deck the coming year. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +What will You bet?—now am sure of winning— +Only, observe You give me full permission +To lead him softly on my path. + +THE LORD: +As long _75 +As he shall live upon the earth, so long +Is nothing unto thee forbidden—Man +Must err till he has ceased to struggle. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Thanks. +And that is all I ask; for willingly +I never make acquaintance with the dead. _80 +The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me, +And if a corpse knocks, I am not at home. +For I am like a cat—I like to play +A little with the mouse before I eat it. + +THE LORD: +Well, well! it is permitted thee. Draw thou _85 +His spirit from its springs; as thou find’st power +Seize him and lead him on thy downward path; +And stand ashamed when failure teaches thee +That a good man, even in his darkest longings, +Is well aware of the right way. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Well and good. _90 +I am not in much doubt about my bet, +And if I lose, then ’tis Your turn to crow; +Enjoy Your triumph then with a full breast. +Ay; dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure, +Like my old paramour, the famous Snake. _95 + +THE LORD: +Pray come here when it suits you; for I never +Had much dislike for people of your sort. +And, among all the Spirits who rebelled, +The knave was ever the least tedious to Me. +The active spirit of man soon sleeps, and soon _100 +He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore I +Have given him the Devil for a companion, +Who may provoke him to some sort of work, +And must create forever.—But ye, pure +Children of God, enjoy eternal beauty;— _105 +Let that which ever operates and lives +Clasp you within the limits of its love; +And seize with sweet and melancholy thoughts +The floating phantoms of its loveliness. + +[HEAVEN CLOSES; THE ARCHANGELS EXEUNT.] + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +From time to time I visit the old fellow, _110 +And I take care to keep on good terms with Him. +Civil enough is the same God Almighty, +To talk so freely with the Devil himself. + + +SCENE 2.—MAY-DAY NIGHT. + +THE HARTZ MOUNTAIN, A DESOLATE COUNTRY. + +FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Would you not like a broomstick? As for me +I wish I had a good stout ram to ride; +For we are still far from the appointed place. + +FAUST: +This knotted staff is help enough for me, +Whilst I feel fresh upon my legs. What good _5 +Is there in making short a pleasant way? +To creep along the labyrinths of the vales, +And climb those rocks, where ever-babbling springs, +Precipitate themselves in waterfalls, +Is the true sport that seasons such a path. _10 +Already Spring kindles the birchen spray, +And the hoar pines already feel her breath: +Shall she not work also within our limbs? + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Nothing of such an influence do I feel. +My body is all wintry, and I wish _15 +The flowers upon our path were frost and snow. +But see how melancholy rises now, +Dimly uplifting her belated beam, +The blank unwelcome round of the red moon, +And gives so bad a light, that every step _20 +One stumbles ’gainst some crag. With your permission, +I’ll call on Ignis-fatuus to our aid: +I see one yonder burning jollily. +Halloo, my friend! may I request that you +Would favour us with your bright company? _25 +Why should you blaze away there to no purpose? +Pray be so good as light us up this way. + +IGNIS-FATUUS: +With reverence be it spoken, I will try +To overcome the lightness of my nature; +Our course, you know, is generally zigzag. _30 + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Ha, ha! your worship thinks you have to deal +With men. Go straight on, in the Devil’s name, +Or I shall puff your flickering life out. + +NOTE: +_33 shall puff 1824; will blow 1822. + +IGNIS-FATUUS: +Well, +I see you are the master of the house; +I will accommodate myself to you. _35 +Only consider that to-night this mountain +Is all enchanted, and if Jack-a-lantern +Shows you his way, though you should miss your own, +You ought not to be too exact with him. + +FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, AND IGNIS-FATUUS, IN ALTERNATE CHORUS: +The limits of the sphere of dream, _40 +The bounds of true and false, are past. +Lead us on, thou wandering Gleam, +Lead us onward, far and fast, +To the wide, the desert waste. + +But see, how swift advance and shift _45 +Trees behind trees, row by row,— +How, clift by clift, rocks bend and lift +Their frowning foreheads as we go. +The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho! +How they snort, and how they blow! _50 + +Through the mossy sods and stones, +Stream and streamlet hurry down— +A rushing throng! A sound of song +Beneath the vault of Heaven is blown! +Sweet notes of love, the speaking tones _55 +Of this bright day, sent down to say +That Paradise on Earth is known, +Resound around, beneath, above. +All we hope and all we love +Finds a voice in this blithe strain, _60 +Which wakens hill and wood and rill, +And vibrates far o’er field and vale, +And which Echo, like the tale +Of old times, repeats again. + +To-whoo! to-whoo! near, nearer now _65 +The sound of song, the rushing throng! +Are the screech, the lapwing, and the jay, +All awake as if ’twere day? +See, with long legs and belly wide, +A salamander in the brake! _70 +Every root is like a snake, +And along the loose hillside, +With strange contortions through the night, +Curls, to seize or to affright; +And, animated, strong, and many, _75 +They dart forth polypus-antennae, +To blister with their poison spume +The wanderer. Through the dazzling gloom +The many-coloured mice, that thread +The dewy turf beneath our tread, _80 +In troops each other’s motions cross, +Through the heath and through the moss; +And, in legions intertangled, +The fire-flies flit, and swarm, and throng, +Till all the mountain depths are spangled. _85 + +Tell me, shall we go or stay? +Shall we onward? Come along! +Everything around is swept +Forward, onward, far away! +Trees and masses intercept _90 +The sight, and wisps on every side +Are puffed up and multiplied. + +NOTES: +_48 frowning]fawning 1822. +_70 brake 1824; lake 1822. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Now vigorously seize my skirt, and gain +This pinnacle of isolated crag. +One may observe with wonder from this point, _95 +How Mammon glows among the mountains. + +FAUST: +Ay— +And strangely through the solid depth below +A melancholy light, like the red dawn, +Shoots from the lowest gorge of the abyss +Of mountains, lightning hitherward: there rise _100 +Pillars of smoke, here clouds float gently by; +Here the light burns soft as the enkindled air, +Or the illumined dust of golden flowers; +And now it glides like tender colours spreading; +And now bursts forth in fountains from the earth; _105 +And now it winds, one torrent of broad light, +Through the far valley with a hundred veins; +And now once more within that narrow corner +Masses itself into intensest splendour. +And near us, see, sparks spring out of the ground, _110 +Like golden sand scattered upon the darkness; +The pinnacles of that black wall of mountains +That hems us in are kindled. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Rare: in faith! +Does not Sir Mammon gloriously illuminate +His palace for this festival?—it is _115 +A pleasure which you had not known before. +I spy the boisterous guests already. + +FAUST: +How +The children of the wind rage in the air! +With what fierce strokes they fall upon my neck! + +NOTE: +_117 How 1824; Now 1822. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Cling tightly to the old ribs of the crag. _120 +Beware! for if with them thou warrest +In their fierce flight towards the wilderness, +Their breath will sweep thee into dust, and drag +Thy body to a grave in the abyss. +A cloud thickens the night. _125 +Hark! how the tempest crashes through the forest! +The owls fly out in strange affright; +The columns of the evergreen palaces +Are split and shattered; +The roots creak, and stretch, and groan; _130 +And ruinously overthrown, +The trunks are crushed and shattered +By the fierce blast’s unconquerable stress. +Over each other crack and crash they all +In terrible and intertangled fall; _135 +And through the ruins of the shaken mountain +The airs hiss and howl— +It is not the voice of the fountain, +Nor the wolf in his midnight prowl. +Dost thou not hear? _140 +Strange accents are ringing +Aloft, afar, anear? +The witches are singing! +The torrent of a raging wizard song +Streams the whole mountain along. _145 + +NOTE: +_132 shattered]scattered Rossetti. + +CHORUS OF WITCHES: +The stubble is yellow, the corn is green, +Now to the Brocken the witches go; +The mighty multitude here may be seen +Gathering, wizard and witch, below. +Sir Urian is sitting aloft in the air; _150 +Hey over stock! and hey over stone! +’Twixt witches and incubi, what shall be done? +Tell it who dare! tell it who dare! + +NOTE: +_150 Urian]Urean editions 1824, 1839. + +A VOICE: +Upon a sow-swine, whose farrows were nine, +Old Baubo rideth alone. _155 + +CHORUS: +Honour her, to whom honour is due, +Old mother Baubo, honour to you! +An able sow, with old Baubo upon her, +Is worthy of glory, and worthy of honour! +The legion of witches is coming behind, _160 +Darkening the night, and outspeeding the wind— + +A VOICE: +Which way comest thou? + +A VOICE: +Over Ilsenstein; +The owl was awake in the white moonshine; +I saw her at rest in her downy nest, +And she stared at me with her broad, bright eyne. _165 + +NOTE: +_165 eyne 1839, 2nd edition; eye 1822, 1824, 1839, 1st edition. + +VOICES: +And you may now as well take your course on to Hell, +Since you ride by so fast on the headlong blast. + +A VOICE: +She dropped poison upon me as I passed. +Here are the wounds— + +CHORUS OF WITCHES: +Come away! come along! +The way is wide, the way is long, _170 +But what is that for a Bedlam throng? +Stick with the prong, and scratch with the broom. +The child in the cradle lies strangled at home, +And the mother is clapping her hands.— + +SEMICHORUS OF WIZARDS 1: +We glide in +Like snails when the women are all away; _175 +And from a house once given over to sin +Woman has a thousand steps to stray. + +SEMICHORUS 2: +A thousand steps must a woman take, +Where a man but a single spring will make. + +VOICES ABOVE: +Come with us, come with us, from Felsensee. _180 + +NOTE: +_180 Felsensee 1862 (“Relics of Shelley”, page 96); + Felumee 1822; Felunsee editions 1824, 1839. + +VOICES BELOW: +With what joy would we fly through the upper sky! +We are washed, we are ‘nointed, stark naked are we; +But our toil and our pain are forever in vain. + +NOTE: +_183 are editions 1839; is 1822, 1824. + +BOTH CHORUSES: +The wind is still, the stars are fled, _185 +The melancholy moon is dead; +The magic notes, like spark on spark, +Drizzle, whistling through the dark. Come away! + +VOICES BELOW: +Stay, Oh, stay! + +VOICES ABOVE: +Out of the crannies of the rocks _190 +Who calls? + +VOICES BELOW: +Oh, let me join your flocks! +I, three hundred years have striven +To catch your skirt and mount to Heaven,— +And still in vain. Oh, might I be +With company akin to me! _195 + +BOTH CHORUSES: +Some on a ram and some on a prong, +On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along; +Forlorn is the wight who can rise not to-night. + +A HALF-WITCH BELOW: +I have been tripping this many an hour: +Are the others already so far before? _200 +No quiet at home, and no peace abroad! +And less methinks is found by the road. + +CHORUS OF WITCHES: +Come onward, away! aroint thee, aroint! +A witch to be strong must anoint—anoint— +Then every trough will be boat enough; _205 +With a rag for a sail we can sweep through the sky, +Who flies not to-night, when means he to fly? + +BOTH CHORUSES: +We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground; +Witch-legions thicken around and around; +Wizard-swarms cover the heath all over. _210 + +[THEY DESCEND.] + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +What thronging, dashing, raging, rustling; +What whispering, babbling, hissing, bustling; +What glimmering, spurting, stinking, burning, +As Heaven and Earth were overturning. +There is a true witch element about us; _215 +Take hold on me, or we shall be divided:— +Where are you? + +NOTE: +_217 What! wanting, 1822. + +FAUST [FROM A DISTANCE]: +Here! + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +What! +I must exert my authority in the house. +Place for young Voland! pray make way, good people. +Take hold on me, doctor, and with one step _220 +Let us escape from this unpleasant crowd: +They are too mad for people of my sort. +Just there shines a peculiar kind of light— +Something attracts me in those bushes. Come +This way: we shall slip down there in a minute. _225 + +FAUST: +Spirit of Contradiction! Well, lead on— +’Twere a wise feat indeed to wander out +Into the Brocken upon May-day night, +And then to isolate oneself in scorn, +Disgusted with the humours of the time. _230 + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +See yonder, round a many-coloured flame +A merry club is huddled altogether: +Even with such little people as sit there +One would not be alone. + +FAUST: +Would that I were +Up yonder in the glow and whirling smoke, _235 +Where the blind million rush impetuously +To meet the evil ones; there might I solve +Many a riddle that torments me. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Yet +Many a riddle there is tied anew +Inextricably. Let the great world rage! _240 +We will stay here safe in the quiet dwellings. +’Tis an old custom. Men have ever built +Their own small world in the great world of all. +I see young witches naked there, and old ones +Wisely attired with greater decency. _245 +Be guided now by me, and you shall buy +A pound of pleasure with a dram of trouble. +I hear them tune their instruments—one must +Get used to this damned scraping. Come, I’ll lead you +Among them; and what there you do and see, _250 +As a fresh compact ’twixt us two shall be. +How say you now? this space is wide enough— +Look forth, you cannot see the end of it— +An hundred bonfires burn in rows, and they +Who throng around them seem innumerable: _255 +Dancing and drinking, jabbering, making love, +And cooking, are at work. Now tell me, friend, +What is there better in the world than this? + +NOTE: +_254 An 1824; A editions 1839. + +FAUST: +In introducing us, do you assume +The character of Wizard or of Devil? _260 + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +In truth, I generally go about +In strict incognito; and yet one likes +To wear one’s orders upon gala days. +I have no ribbon at my knee; but here +At home, the cloven foot is honourable. _265 +See you that snail there?—she comes creeping up, +And with her feeling eyes hath smelt out something. +I could not, if I would, mask myself here. +Come now, we’ll go about from fire to fire: +I’ll be the Pimp, and you shall be the Lover. _270 +[TO SOME OLD WOMEN, WHO ARE SITTING ROUND A HEAP OF GLIMMERING COALS.] +Old gentlewomen, what do you do out here? +You ought to be with the young rioters +Right in the thickest of the revelry— +But every one is best content at home. + +NOTE: +_264 my wanting, 1822. + +General. +Who dare confide in right or a just claim? _275 +So much as I had done for them! and now— +With women and the people ’tis the same, +Youth will stand foremost ever,—age may go +To the dark grave unhonoured. + +NOTE: +_275 right editions 1824, 1839; night 1822. + +MINISTER: +Nowadays +People assert their rights: they go too far; _280 +But as for me, the good old times I praise; +Then we were all in all—’twas something worth +One’s while to be in place and wear a star; +That was indeed the golden age on earth. + +PARVENU: +We too are active, and we did and do _285 +What we ought not, perhaps; and yet we now +Will seize, whilst all things are whirled round and round, +A spoke of Fortune’s wheel, and keep our ground. + +NOTE: +_285 Parvenu: (Note) A sort of fundholder 1822, editions 1824, 1839. + +AUTHOR: +Who now can taste a treatise of deep sense +And ponderous volume? ’tis impertinence _290 +To write what none will read, therefore will I +To please the young and thoughtless people try. + +NOTE: +_290 ponderous 1824; wonderous 1822. + +MEPHISTOPHELES [WHO AT ONCE APPEARS TO HAVE GROWN VERY OLD]: +I +find the people ripe for the last day, +Since I last came up to the wizard mountain; +And as my little cask runs turbid now, _295 +So is the world drained to the dregs. + +PEDLAR-WITCH: +Look here, +Gentlemen; do not hurry on so fast; +And lose the chance of a good pennyworth. +I have a pack full of the choicest wares +Of every sort, and yet in all my bundle _300 +Is nothing like what may be found on earth; +Nothing that in a moment will make rich +Men and the world with fine malicious mischief— +There is no dagger drunk with blood; no bowl +From which consuming poison may be drained _305 +By innocent and healthy lips; no jewel, +The price of an abandoned maiden’s shame; +No sword which cuts the bond it cannot loose, +Or stabs the wearer’s enemy in the back; +No— + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Gossip, you know little of these times. _310 +What has been, has been; what is done, is past, +They shape themselves into the innovations +They breed, and innovation drags us with it. +The torrent of the crowd sweeps over us: +You think to impel, and are yourself impelled. _315 + +FAUST: +What is that yonder? + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Mark her well. It is +Lilith. + +FAUST: +Who? + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Lilith, the first wife of Adam. +Beware of her fair hair, for she excels +All women in the magic of her locks; +And when she winds them round a young man’s neck, _320 +She will not ever set him free again. + +FAUST: +There sit a girl and an old woman—they +Seem to be tired with pleasure and with play. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +There is no rest to-night for any one: +When one dance ends another is begun; _325 +Come, let us to it. We shall have rare fun. + +[FAUST DANCES AND SINGS WITH A GIRL, AND +MEPHISTOPHELES WITH AN OLD WOMAN.] + +FAUST: +I had once a lovely dream +In which I saw an apple-tree, +Where two fair apples with their gleam +To climb and taste attracted me. _330 + +NOTES: +_327-_334 So Boscombe manuscript (“Westminster Review”, July, 1870); + wanting, 1822, 1824, 1839. + +THE GIRL: +She with apples you desired +From Paradise came long ago: +With you I feel that if required, +Such still within my garden grow. + +... + +PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: +What is this cursed multitude about? _335 +Have we not long since proved to demonstration +That ghosts move not on ordinary feet? +But these are dancing just like men and women. + +NOTE: +_335 Procto-Phantasmist]Brocto-Phantasmist editions 1824, 1839. + +THE GIRL: +What does he want then at our ball? + +FAUST: +Oh! he +Is far above us all in his conceit: _340 +Whilst we enjoy, he reasons of enjoyment; +And any step which in our dance we tread, +If it be left out of his reckoning, +Is not to be considered as a step. +There are few things that scandalize him not: _345 +And when you whirl round in the circle now, +As he went round the wheel in his old mill, +He says that you go wrong in all respects, +Especially if you congratulate him +Upon the strength of the resemblance. + +PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: +Fly! _350 +Vanish! Unheard-of impudence! What, still there! +In this enlightened age too, since you have been +Proved not to exist!—But this infernal brood +Will hear no reason and endure no rule. +Are we so wise, and is the POND still haunted? _355 +How long have I been sweeping out this rubbish +Of superstition, and the world will not +Come clean with all my pains!—it is a case +Unheard of! + +NOTE: +_355 pond wanting in Boscombe manuscript. + +THE GIRL: +Then leave off teasing us so. + +PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: +I tell you, spirits, to your faces now, _360 +That I should not regret this despotism +Of spirits, but that mine can wield it not. +To-night I shall make poor work of it, +Yet I will take a round with you, and hope +Before my last step in the living dance _365 +To beat the poet and the devil together. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +At last he will sit down in some foul puddle; +That is his way of solacing himself; +Until some leech, diverted with his gravity, +Cures him of spirits and the spirit together. _370 +[TO FAUST, WHO HAS SECEDED FROM THE DANCE.] +Why do you let that fair girl pass from you, +Who sung so sweetly to you in the dance? + +FAUST: +A red mouse in the middle of her singing +Sprung from her mouth. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +That was all right, my friend: +Be it enough that the mouse was not gray. _375 +Do not disturb your hour of happiness +With close consideration of such trifles. + +FAUST: +Then saw I— + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +What? + +FAUST: +Seest thou not a pale, +Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away? +She drags herself now forward with slow steps, _380 +And seems as if she moved with shackled feet: +I cannot overcome the thought that she +Is like poor Margaret. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Let it be—pass on— +No good can come of it—it is not well +To meet it—it is an enchanted phantom, _385 +A lifeless idol; with its numbing look, +It freezes up the blood of man; and they +Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone, +Like those who saw Medusa. + +FAUST: +Oh, too true! +Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse _390 +Which no beloved hand has closed, alas! +That is the breast which Margaret yielded to me— +Those are the lovely limbs which I enjoyed! + +NOTE: +_392 breast editions 1839; heart 1822, 1824. + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +It is all magic, poor deluded fool! +She looks to every one like his first love. _395 + +FAUST: +Oh, what delight! what woe! I cannot turn +My looks from her sweet piteous countenance. +How strangely does a single blood-red line, +Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife, +Adorn her lovely neck! + +MEPHISTOPHELES: +Ay, she can carry _400 +Her head under her arm upon occasion; +Perseus has cut it off for her. These pleasures +End in delusion.—Gain this rising ground, +It is as airy here as in a... +And if I am not mightily deceived, _405 +I see a theatre.—What may this mean? + +ATTENDANT: +Quite a new piece, the last of seven, for ’tis +The custom now to represent that number. +’Tis written by a Dilettante, and +The actors who perform are Dilettanti; _410 +Excuse me, gentlemen; but I must vanish. +I am a Dilettante curtain-lifter. + +*** + + +JUVENILIA. + + +QUEEN MAB. + +A PHILOSOPHICAL POEM, WITH NOTES. + +[An edition (250 copies) of “Queen Mab” was printed at London in the +summer of 1813 by Shelley himself, whose name, as author and printer, +appears on the title-page (see “Bibliographical List”). Of this edition +about seventy copies were privately distributed. Sections 1, 2, 8, and 9 +were afterwards rehandled, and the intermediate sections here and there +revised and altered; and of this new text sections 1 and 2 were +published by Shelley in the “Alastor” volume of 1816, under the title, +“The Daemon of the World”. The remainder lay unpublished till 1876, when +sections 8 and 9 were printed by Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B., from a +printed copy of “Queen Mab” with Shelley’s manuscript corrections. See +“The Shelley Library”, pages 36-44, for a description of this copy, +which is in Mr. Forman’s possession. Sources of the text are (1) the +editio princeps of 1813; (2) text (with some omissions) in the “Poetical +Works” of 1839, edited by Mrs. Shelley; (3) text (one line only wanting) +in the 2nd edition of the “Poetical Works”, 1839 (same editor). + +“Queen Mab” was probably written during the year 1812—it is first heard +of at Lynmouth, August 18, 1812 (“Shelley Memorials”, page 39)—but the +text may be assumed to include earlier material.] + +ECRASEZ L’INFAME!—Correspondance de Voltaire. + +Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nullius ante +Trita solo; juvat integros accedere fonteis; +Atque haurire: juvatque novos decerpere flores. + +... + +Unde prius nulli velarint tempora musae. +Primum quod magnis doceo de rebus; et arctis +Religionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo.—Lucret. lib. 4. + +Dos pon sto, kai kosmon kineso.—Archimedes. + + +TO HARRIET *****. + +Whose is the love that gleaming through the world, +Wards off the poisonous arrow of its scorn? +Whose is the warm and partial praise, +Virtue’s most sweet reward? + +Beneath whose looks did my reviving soul _5 +Riper in truth and virtuous daring grow? +Whose eyes have I gazed fondly on, +And loved mankind the more? + +HARRIET! on thine:—thou wert my purer mind; +Thou wert the inspiration of my song; _10 +Thine are these early wilding flowers, +Though garlanded by me. + +Then press into thy breast this pledge of love; +And know, though time may change and years may roll, +Each floweret gathered in my heart _15 +It consecrates to thine. + + +QUEEN MAB. + +1. + +How wonderful is Death, +Death and his brother Sleep! +One, pale as yonder waning moon +With lips of lurid blue; +The other, rosy as the morn _5 +When throned on ocean’s wave +It blushes o’er the world: +Yet both so passing wonderful! + +Hath then the gloomy Power +Whose reign is in the tainted sepulchres _10 +Seized on her sinless soul? +Must then that peerless form +Which love and admiration cannot view +Without a beating heart, those azure veins +Which steal like streams along a field of snow, _15 +That lovely outline, which is fair +As breathing marble, perish? +Must putrefaction’s breath +Leave nothing of this heavenly sight +But loathsomeness and ruin? _20 +Spare nothing but a gloomy theme, +On which the lightest heart might moralize? +Or is it only a sweet slumber +Stealing o’er sensation, +Which the breath of roseate morning _25 +Chaseth into darkness? +Will Ianthe wake again, +And give that faithful bosom joy +Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch +Light, life and rapture from her smile? _30 + +Yes! she will wake again, +Although her glowing limbs are motionless, +And silent those sweet lips, +Once breathing eloquence, +That might have soothed a tiger’s rage, _35 +Or thawed the cold heart of a conqueror. +Her dewy eyes are closed, +And on their lids, whose texture fine +Scarce hides the dark blue orbs beneath, +The baby Sleep is pillowed: _40 +Her golden tresses shade +The bosom’s stainless pride, +Curling like tendrils of the parasite +Around a marble column. + +Hark! whence that rushing sound? _45 +’Tis like the wondrous strain +That round a lonely ruin swells, +Which, wandering on the echoing shore, +The enthusiast hears at evening: +’Tis softer than the west wind’s sigh; _50 +’Tis wilder than the unmeasured notes +Of that strange lyre whose strings +The genii of the breezes sweep: +Those lines of rainbow light +Are like the moonbeams when they fall _55 +Through some cathedral window, but the tints +Are such as may not find +Comparison on earth. + +Behold the chariot of the Fairy Queen! +Celestial coursers paw the unyielding air; _60 +Their filmy pennons at her word they furl, +And stop obedient to the reins of light: +These the Queen of Spells drew in, +She spread a charm around the spot, +And leaning graceful from the aethereal car, _65 +Long did she gaze, and silently, +Upon the slumbering maid. + +Oh! not the visioned poet in his dreams, +When silvery clouds float through the ‘wildered brain, +When every sight of lovely, wild and grand _70 +Astonishes, enraptures, elevates, +When fancy at a glance combines +The wondrous and the beautiful,— +So bright, so fair, so wild a shape +Hath ever yet beheld, _75 +As that which reined the coursers of the air, +And poured the magic of her gaze +Upon the maiden’s sleep. + +The broad and yellow moon +Shone dimly through her form— _80 +That form of faultless symmetry; +The pearly and pellucid car +Moved not the moonlight’s line: +’Twas not an earthly pageant: +Those who had looked upon the sight, _85 +Passing all human glory, +Saw not the yellow moon, +Saw not the mortal scene, +Heard not the night-wind’s rush, +Heard not an earthly sound, _90 +Saw but the fairy pageant, +Heard but the heavenly strains +That filled the lonely dwelling. + +The Fairy’s frame was slight, yon fibrous cloud, +That catches but the palest tinge of even, _95 +And which the straining eye can hardly seize +When melting into eastern twilight’s shadow, +Were scarce so thin, so slight; but the fair star +That gems the glittering coronet of morn, +Sheds not a light so mild, so powerful, _100 +As that which, bursting from the Fairy’s form, +Spread a purpureal halo round the scene, +Yet with an undulating motion, +Swayed to her outline gracefully. + +From her celestial car _105 +The Fairy Queen descended, +And thrice she waved her wand +Circled with wreaths of amaranth: +Her thin and misty form +Moved with the moving air, _110 +And the clear silver tones, +As thus she spoke, were such +As are unheard by all but gifted ear. + +FAIRY: +‘Stars! your balmiest influence shed! +Elements! your wrath suspend! _115 +Sleep, Ocean, in the rocky bounds +That circle thy domain! +Let not a breath be seen to stir +Around yon grass-grown ruin’s height, +Let even the restless gossamer _120 +Sleep on the moveless air! +Soul of Ianthe! thou, +Judged alone worthy of the envied boon, +That waits the good and the sincere; that waits +Those who have struggled, and with resolute will _125 +Vanquished earth’s pride and meanness, burst the chains, +The icy chains of custom, and have shone +The day-stars of their age;—Soul of Ianthe! +Awake! arise!’ + +Sudden arose _130 +Ianthe’s Soul; it stood +All beautiful in naked purity, +The perfect semblance of its bodily frame. +Instinct with inexpressible beauty and grace, +Each stain of earthliness _135 +Had passed away, it reassumed +Its native dignity, and stood +Immortal amid ruin. + +Upon the couch the body lay +Wrapped in the depth of slumber: _140 +Its features were fixed and meaningless, +Yet animal life was there, +And every organ yet performed +Its natural functions: ’twas a sight +Of wonder to behold the body and soul. _145 +The self-same lineaments, the same +Marks of identity were there: +Yet, oh, how different! One aspires to Heaven, +Pants for its sempiternal heritage, +And ever-changing, ever-rising still, _150 +Wantons in endless being. +The other, for a time the unwilling sport +Of circumstance and passion, struggles on; +Fleets through its sad duration rapidly: +Then, like an useless and worn-out machine, _155 +Rots, perishes, and passes. + +FAIRY: +‘Spirit! who hast dived so deep; +Spirit! who hast soared so high; +Thou the fearless, thou the mild, +Accept the boon thy worth hath earned, _160 +Ascend the car with me.’ + +SPIRIT: +‘Do I dream? Is this new feeling +But a visioned ghost of slumber? +If indeed I am a soul, +A free, a disembodied soul, _165 +Speak again to me.’ + +FAIRY: +‘I am the Fairy MAB: to me ’tis given +The wonders of the human world to keep: +The secrets of the immeasurable past, +In the unfailing consciences of men, _170 +Those stern, unflattering chroniclers, I find: +The future, from the causes which arise +In each event, I gather: not the sting +Which retributive memory implants +In the hard bosom of the selfish man; _175 +Nor that ecstatic and exulting throb +Which virtue’s votary feels when he sums up +The thoughts and actions of a well-spent day, +Are unforeseen, unregistered by me: +And it is yet permitted me, to rend _180 +The veil of mortal frailty, that the spirit, +Clothed in its changeless purity, may know +How soonest to accomplish the great end +For which it hath its being, and may taste +That peace, which in the end all life will share. _185 +This is the meed of virtue; happy Soul, +Ascend the car with me!’ + +The chains of earth’s immurement +Fell from Ianthe’s spirit; +They shrank and brake like bandages of straw _190 +Beneath a wakened giant’s strength. +She knew her glorious change, +And felt in apprehension uncontrolled +New raptures opening round: +Each day-dream of her mortal life, _195 +Each frenzied vision of the slumbers +That closed each well-spent day, +Seemed now to meet reality. + +The Fairy and the Soul proceeded; +The silver clouds disparted; _200 +And as the car of magic they ascended, +Again the speechless music swelled, +Again the coursers of the air +Unfurled their azure pennons, and the Queen +Shaking the beamy reins _205 +Bade them pursue their way. + +The magic car moved on. +The night was fair, and countless stars +Studded Heaven’s dark blue vault,— +Just o’er the eastern wave _210 +Peeped the first faint smile of morn:— +The magic car moved on— +From the celestial hoofs +The atmosphere in flaming sparkles flew, +And where the burning wheels _215 +Eddied above the mountain’s loftiest peak, +Was traced a line of lightning. +Now it flew far above a rock, +The utmost verge of earth, +The rival of the Andes, whose dark brow _220 +Lowered o’er the silver sea. + +Far, far below the chariot’s path, +Calm as a slumbering babe, +Tremendous Ocean lay. +The mirror of its stillness showed _225 +The pale and waning stars, +The chariot’s fiery track, +And the gray light of morn +Tinging those fleecy clouds +That canopied the dawn. _230 +Seemed it, that the chariot’s way +Lay through the midst of an immense concave, +Radiant with million constellations, tinged +With shades of infinite colour, +And semicircled with a belt _235 +Flashing incessant meteors. + +The magic car moved on. +As they approached their goal +The coursers seemed to gather speed; +The sea no longer was distinguished; earth _240 +Appeared a vast and shadowy sphere; +The sun’s unclouded orb +Rolled through the black concave; +Its rays of rapid light +Parted around the chariot’s swifter course, _245 +And fell, like ocean’s feathery spray +Dashed from the boiling surge +Before a vessel’s prow. + +The magic car moved on. +Earth’s distant orb appeared _250 +The smallest light that twinkles in the heaven; +Whilst round the chariot’s way +Innumerable systems rolled, +And countless spheres diffused +An ever-varying glory. _255 +It was a sight of wonder: some +Were horned like the crescent moon; +Some shed a mild and silver beam +Like Hesperus o’er the western sea; +Some dashed athwart with trains of flame, _260 +Like worlds to death and ruin driven; +Some shone like suns, and, as the chariot passed, +Eclipsed all other light. + +Spirit of Nature! here! +In this interminable wilderness _265 +Of worlds, at whose immensity +Even soaring fancy staggers, +Here is thy fitting temple. +Yet not the lightest leaf +That quivers to the passing breeze _270 +Is less instinct with thee: +Yet not the meanest worm +That lurks in graves and fattens on the dead +Less shares thy eternal breath. +Spirit of Nature! thou! _275 +Imperishable as this scene, +Here is thy fitting temple. + +2. + +If solitude hath ever led thy steps +To the wild Ocean’s echoing shore, +And thou hast lingered there, +Until the sun’s broad orb +Seemed resting on the burnished wave, _5 +Thou must have marked the lines +Of purple gold, that motionless +Hung o’er the sinking sphere: +Thou must have marked the billowy clouds +Edged with intolerable radiancy _10 +Towering like rocks of jet +Crowned with a diamond wreath. +And yet there is a moment, +When the sun’s highest point +Peeps like a star o’er Ocean’s western edge, _15 +When those far clouds of feathery gold, +Shaded with deepest purple, gleam +Like islands on a dark blue sea; +Then has thy fancy soared above the earth, +And furled its wearied wing _20 +Within the Fairy’s fane. + +Yet not the golden islands +Gleaming in yon flood of light, +Nor the feathery curtains +Stretching o’er the sun’s bright couch, _25 +Nor the burnished Ocean waves +Paving that gorgeous dome, +So fair, so wonderful a sight +As Mab’s aethereal palace could afford. +Yet likest evening’s vault, that faery Hall! _30 +As Heaven, low resting on the wave, it spread +Its floors of flashing light, +Its vast and azure dome, +Its fertile golden islands +Floating on a silver sea; _35 +Whilst suns their mingling beamings darted +Through clouds of circumambient darkness, +And pearly battlements around +Looked o’er the immense of Heaven. + +The magic car no longer moved. _40 +The Fairy and the Spirit +Entered the Hall of Spells: +Those golden clouds +That rolled in glittering billows +Beneath the azure canopy _45 +With the aethereal footsteps trembled not: +The light and crimson mists, +Floating to strains of thrilling melody +Through that unearthly dwelling, +Yielded to every movement of the will. _50 +Upon their passive swell the Spirit leaned, +And, for the varied bliss that pressed around, +Used not the glorious privilege +Of virtue and of wisdom. + +‘Spirit!’ the Fairy said, _55 +And pointed to the gorgeous dome, +‘This is a wondrous sight +And mocks all human grandeur; +But, were it virtue’s only meed, to dwell +In a celestial palace, all resigned _60 +To pleasurable impulses, immured +Within the prison of itself, the will +Of changeless Nature would be unfulfilled. +Learn to make others happy. Spirit, come! +This is thine high reward:—the past shall rise; _65 +Thou shalt behold the present; I will teach +The secrets of the future.’ + +The Fairy and the Spirit +Approached the overhanging battlement.— +Below lay stretched the universe! _70 +There, far as the remotest line +That bounds imagination’s flight, +Countless and unending orbs +In mazy motion intermingled, +Yet still fulfilled immutably _75 +Eternal Nature’s law. +Above, below, around, +The circling systems formed +A wilderness of harmony; +Each with undeviating aim, _80 +In eloquent silence, through the depths of space +Pursued its wondrous way. + +There was a little light +That twinkled in the misty distance: +None but a spirit’s eye _85 +Might ken that rolling orb; +None but a spirit’s eye, +And in no other place +But that celestial dwelling, might behold +Each action of this earth’s inhabitants. _90 +But matter, space and time +In those aereal mansions cease to act; +And all-prevailing wisdom, when it reaps +The harvest of its excellence, o’er-bounds +Those obstacles, of which an earthly soul _95 +Fears to attempt the conquest. + +The Fairy pointed to the earth. +The Spirit’s intellectual eye +Its kindred beings recognized. +The thronging thousands, to a passing view, _100 +Seemed like an ant-hill’s citizens. +How wonderful! that even +The passions, prejudices, interests, +That sway the meanest being, the weak touch +That moves the finest nerve, _105 +And in one human brain +Causes the faintest thought, becomes a link +In the great chain of Nature. + +‘Behold,’ the Fairy cried, +‘Palmyra’s ruined palaces!— _110 +Behold! where grandeur frowned; +Behold! where pleasure smiled; +What now remains?—the memory +Of senselessness and shame— +What is immortal there? _115 +Nothing—it stands to tell +A melancholy tale, to give +An awful warning: soon +Oblivion will steal silently +The remnant of its fame. _120 +Monarchs and conquerors there +Proud o’er prostrate millions trod— +The earthquakes of the human race; +Like them, forgotten when the ruin +That marks their shock is past. _125 + +‘Beside the eternal Nile, +The Pyramids have risen. +Nile shall pursue his changeless way: +Those Pyramids shall fall; +Yea! not a stone shall stand to tell _130 +The spot whereon they stood! +Their very site shall be forgotten, +As is their builder’s name! + +‘Behold yon sterile spot; +Where now the wandering Arab’s tent _135 +Flaps in the desert-blast. +There once old Salem’s haughty fane +Reared high to Heaven its thousand golden domes, +And in the blushing face of day +Exposed its shameful glory. _140 +Oh! many a widow, many an orphan cursed +The building of that fane; and many a father; +Worn out with toil and slavery, implored +The poor man’s God to sweep it from the earth, +And spare his children the detested task _145 +Of piling stone on stone, and poisoning +The choicest days of life, +To soothe a dotard’s vanity. +There an inhuman and uncultured race +Howled hideous praises to their Demon-God; _150 +They rushed to war, tore from the mother’s womb +The unborn child,—old age and infancy +Promiscuous perished; their victorious arms +Left not a soul to breathe. Oh! they were fiends: +But what was he who taught them that the God _155 +Of nature and benevolence hath given +A special sanction to the trade of blood? +His name and theirs are fading, and the tales +Of this barbarian nation, which imposture +Recites till terror credits, are pursuing _160 +Itself into forgetfulness. + +‘Where Athens, Rome, and Sparta stood, +There is a moral desert now: +The mean and miserable huts, +The yet more wretched palaces, _165 +Contrasted with those ancient fanes, +Now crumbling to oblivion; +The long and lonely colonnades, +Through which the ghost of Freedom stalks, +Seem like a well-known tune, _170 +Which in some dear scene we have loved to hear, +Remembered now in sadness. +But, oh! how much more changed, +How gloomier is the contrast +Of human nature there! _175 +Where Socrates expired, a tyrant’s slave, +A coward and a fool, spreads death around— +Then, shuddering, meets his own. +Where Cicero and Antoninus lived, +A cowled and hypocritical monk _180 +Prays, curses and deceives. + +‘Spirit, ten thousand years +Have scarcely passed away, +Since, in the waste where now the savage drinks +His enemy’s blood, and aping Europe’s sons, _185 +Wakes the unholy song of war, Arose a stately city, +Metropolis of the western continent: +There, now, the mossy column-stone, +Indented by Time’s unrelaxing grasp, _190 +Which once appeared to brave +All, save its country’s ruin; +There the wide forest scene, +Rude in the uncultivated loveliness +Of gardens long run wild, _195 +Seems, to the unwilling sojourner, whose steps +Chance in that desert has delayed, +Thus to have stood since earth was what it is. +Yet once it was the busiest haunt, +Whither, as to a common centre, flocked _200 +Strangers, and ships, and merchandise: +Once peace and freedom blessed +The cultivated plain: +But wealth, that curse of man, +Blighted the bud of its prosperity: _205 +Virtue and wisdom, truth and liberty, +Fled, to return not, until man shall know +That they alone can give the bliss +Worthy a soul that claims +Its kindred with eternity. _210 + +‘There’s not one atom of yon earth +But once was living man; +Nor the minutest drop of rain, +That hangeth in its thinnest cloud, +But flowed in human veins: _215 +And from the burning plains +Where Libyan monsters yell, +From the most gloomy glens +Of Greenland’s sunless clime, +To where the golden fields _220 +Of fertile England spread +Their harvest to the day, +Thou canst not find one spot +Whereon no city stood. + +‘How strange is human pride! _225 +I tell thee that those living things, +To whom the fragile blade of grass, +That springeth in the morn +And perisheth ere noon, +Is an unbounded world; _230 +I tell thee that those viewless beings, +Whose mansion is the smallest particle +Of the impassive atmosphere, +Think, feel and live like man; +That their affections and antipathies, _235 +Like his, produce the laws +Ruling their moral state; +And the minutest throb +That through their frame diffuses +The slightest, faintest motion, _240 +Is fixed and indispensable +As the majestic laws +That rule yon rolling orbs.’ + +The Fairy paused. The Spirit, +In ecstasy of admiration, felt _245 +All knowledge of the past revived; the events +Of old and wondrous times, +Which dim tradition interruptedly +Teaches the credulous vulgar, were unfolded +In just perspective to the view; _250 +Yet dim from their infinitude. +The Spirit seemed to stand +High on an isolated pinnacle; +The flood of ages combating below, +The depth of the unbounded universe _255 +Above, and all around +Nature’s unchanging harmony. + +3. + +‘Fairy!’ the Spirit said, +And on the Queen of Spells +Fixed her aethereal eyes, +‘I thank thee. Thou hast given +A boon which I will not resign, and taught _5 +A lesson not to be unlearned. I know +The past, and thence I will essay to glean +A warning for the future, so that man +May profit by his errors, and derive +Experience from his folly: _10 +For, when the power of imparting joy +Is equal to the will, the human soul +Requires no other Heaven.’ + +MAB: +‘Turn thee, surpassing Spirit! +Much yet remains unscanned. _15 +Thou knowest how great is man, +Thou knowest his imbecility: +Yet learn thou what he is: +Yet learn the lofty destiny +Which restless time prepares _20 +For every living soul. + +‘Behold a gorgeous palace, that, amid +Yon populous city rears its thousand towers +And seems itself a city. Gloomy troops +Of sentinels, in stern and silent ranks, _25 +Encompass it around: the dweller there +Cannot be free and happy; hearest thou not +The curses of the fatherless, the groans +Of those who have no friend? He passes on: +The King, the wearer of a gilded chain _30 +That binds his soul to abjectness, the fool +Whom courtiers nickname monarch, whilst a slave +Even to the basest appetites—that man +Heeds not the shriek of penury; he smiles +At the deep curses which the destitute _35 +Mutter in secret, and a sullen joy +Pervades his bloodless heart when thousands groan +But for those morsels which his wantonness +Wastes in unjoyous revelry, to save +All that they love from famine: when he hears _40 +The tale of horror, to some ready-made face +Of hypocritical assent he turns, +Smothering the glow of shame, that, spite of him, +Flushes his bloated cheek. +Now to the meal +Of silence, grandeur, and excess, he drags _45 +His palled unwilling appetite. If gold, +Gleaming around, and numerous viands culled +From every clime, could force the loathing sense +To overcome satiety,—if wealth +The spring it draws from poisons not,—or vice, _50 +Unfeeling, stubborn vice, converteth not +Its food to deadliest venom; then that king +Is happy; and the peasant who fulfils +His unforced task, when he returns at even, +And by the blazing faggot meets again _55 +Her welcome for whom all his toil is sped, +Tastes not a sweeter meal. +Behold him now +Stretched on the gorgeous couch; his fevered brain +Reels dizzily awhile: but ah! too soon +The slumber of intemperance subsides, _60 +And conscience, that undying serpent, calls +Her venomous brood to their nocturnal task. +Listen! he speaks! oh! mark that frenzied eye— +Oh! mark that deadly visage.’ + +KING: +‘No cessation! +Oh! must this last for ever? Awful Death, _65 +I wish, yet fear to clasp thee!—Not one moment +Of dreamless sleep! O dear and blessed peace! +Why dost thou shroud thy vestal purity +In penury and dungeons? wherefore lurkest +With danger, death, and solitude; yet shunn’st _70 +The palace I have built thee? Sacred peace! +Oh visit me but once, but pitying shed +One drop of balm upon my withered soul.’ + +THE FAIRY: +‘Vain man! that palace is the virtuous heart, +And Peace defileth not her snowy robes _75 +In such a shed as thine. Hark! yet he mutters; +His slumbers are but varied agonies, +They prey like scorpions on the springs of life. +There needeth not the hell that bigots frame +To punish those who err: earth in itself _80 +Contains at once the evil and the cure; +And all-sufficing Nature can chastise +Those who transgress her law,—she only knows +How justly to proportion to the fault +The punishment it merits. +Is it strange _85 +That this poor wretch should pride him in his woe? +Take pleasure in his abjectness, and hug +The scorpion that consumes him? Is it strange +That, placed on a conspicuous throne of thorns, +Grasping an iron sceptre, and immured _90 +Within a splendid prison, whose stern bounds +Shut him from all that’s good or dear on earth, +His soul asserts not its humanity? +That man’s mild nature rises not in war +Against a king’s employ? No—’tis not strange. _95 +He, like the vulgar, thinks, feels, acts and lives +Just as his father did; the unconquered powers +Of precedent and custom interpose +Between a KING and virtue. Stranger yet, +To those who know not Nature, nor deduce _100 +The future from the present, it may seem, +That not one slave, who suffers from the crimes +Of this unnatural being; not one wretch, +Whose children famish, and whose nuptial bed +Is earth’s unpitying bosom, rears an arm +To dash him from his throne! _105 +Those gilded flies +That, basking in the sunshine of a court, +Fatten on its corruption!—what are they? +—The drones of the community; they feed +On the mechanic’s labour: the starved hind _110 +For them compels the stubborn glebe to yield +Its unshared harvests; and yon squalid form, +Leaner than fleshless misery, that wastes +A sunless life in the unwholesome mine, +Drags out in labour a protracted death, _115 +To glut their grandeur; many faint with toil, +That few may know the cares and woe of sloth. + +‘Whence, think’st thou, kings and parasites arose? +Whence that unnatural line of drones, who heap +Toil and unvanquishable penury _120 +On those who build their palaces, and bring +Their daily bread?—From vice, black loathsome vice; +From rapine, madness, treachery, and wrong; +From all that ‘genders misery, and makes +Of earth this thorny wilderness; from lust, _125 +Revenge, and murder...And when Reason’s voice, +Loud as the voice of Nature, shall have waked +The nations; and mankind perceive that vice +Is discord, war, and misery; that virtue +Is peace, and happiness and harmony; _130 +When man’s maturer nature shall disdain +The playthings of its childhood;—kingly glare +Will lose its power to dazzle; its authority +Will silently pass by; the gorgeous throne +Shall stand unnoticed in the regal hall, _135 +Fast falling to decay; whilst falsehood’s trade +Shall be as hateful and unprofitable +As that of truth is now. +Where is the fame +Which the vainglorious mighty of the earth +Seek to eternize? Oh! the faintest sound _140 +From Time’s light footfall, the minutest wave +That swells the flood of ages, whelms in nothing +The unsubstantial bubble. Ay! today +Stern is the tyrant’s mandate, red the gaze +That flashes desolation, strong the arm _145 +That scatters multitudes. To-morrow comes! +That mandate is a thunder-peal that died +In ages past; that gaze, a transient flash +On which the midnight closed, and on that arm +The worm has made his meal. +The virtuous man, _150 +Who, great in his humility, as kings +Are little in their grandeur; he who leads +Invincibly a life of resolute good, +And stands amid the silent dungeon depths +More free and fearless than the trembling judge, _155 +Who, clothed in venal power, vainly strove +To bind the impassive spirit;—when he falls, +His mild eye beams benevolence no more: +Withered the hand outstretched but to relieve; +Sunk Reason’s simple eloquence, that rolled _160 +But to appal the guilty. Yes! the grave +Hath quenched that eye, and Death’s relentless frost +Withered that arm: but the unfading fame +Which Virtue hangs upon its votary’s tomb; +The deathless memory of that man, whom kings _165 +Call to their mind and tremble; the remembrance +With which the happy spirit contemplates +Its well-spent pilgrimage on earth, +Shall never pass away. + +‘Nature rejects the monarch, not the man; _170 +The subject, not the citizen: for kings +And subjects, mutual foes, forever play +A losing game into each other’s hands, +Whose stakes are vice and misery. The man +Of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys. _175 +Power, like a desolating pestilence, +Pollutes whate’er it touches; and obedience, +Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, +Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, +A mechanized automaton. +When Nero, _180 +High over flaming Rome, with savage joy +Lowered like a fiend, drank with enraptured ear +The shrieks of agonizing death, beheld +The frightful desolation spread, and felt +A new-created sense within his soul _185 +Thrill to the sight, and vibrate to the sound; +Think’st thou his grandeur had not overcome +The force of human kindness? and, when Rome, +With one stern blow, hurled not the tyrant down, +Crushed not the arm red with her dearest blood _190 +Had not submissive abjectness destroyed +Nature’s suggestions? +Look on yonder earth: +The golden harvests spring; the unfailing sun +Sheds light and life; the fruits, the flowers, the trees, +Arise in due succession; all things speak _195 +Peace, harmony, and love. The universe, +In Nature’s silent eloquence, declares +That all fulfil the works of love and joy,— +All but the outcast, Man. He fabricates +The sword which stabs his peace; he cherisheth _200 +The snakes that gnaw his heart; he raiseth up +The tyrant, whose delight is in his woe, +Whose sport is in his agony. Yon sun, +Lights it the great alone? Yon silver beams, +Sleep they less sweetly on the cottage thatch _205 +Than on the dome of kings? Is mother Earth +A step-dame to her numerous sons, who earn +Her unshared gifts with unremitting toil; +A mother only to those puling babes +Who, nursed in ease and luxury, make men _210 +The playthings of their babyhood, and mar, +In self-important childishness, that peace +Which men alone appreciate? + +‘Spirit of Nature! no. +The pure diffusion of thy essence throbs _215 +Alike in every human heart. +Thou, aye, erectest there +Thy throne of power unappealable: +Thou art the judge beneath whose nod +Man’s brief and frail authority _220 +Is powerless as the wind +That passeth idly by. +Thine the tribunal which surpasseth +The show of human justice, +As God surpasses man. _225 + +‘Spirit of Nature! thou +Life of interminable multitudes; +Soul of those mighty spheres +Whose changeless paths through +Heaven’s deep silence lie; +Soul of that smallest being, _230 +The dwelling of whose life +Is one faint April sun-gleam;— +Man, like these passive things, +Thy will unconsciously fulfilleth: +Like theirs, his age of endless peace, _235 +Which time is fast maturing, +Will swiftly, surely come; +And the unbounded frame, which thou pervadest, +Will be without a flaw +Marring its perfect symmetry. _240 + +4. + +‘How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh, +Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening’s ear, +Were discord to the speaking quietude +That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven’s ebon vault, +Studded with stars unutterably bright, _5 +Through which the moon’s unclouded grandeur rolls, +Seems like a canopy which love had spread +To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, +Robed in a garment of untrodden snow; +Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend, _10 +So stainless, that their white and glittering spires +Tinge not the moon’s pure beam; yon castled steep, +Whose banner hangeth o’er the time-worn tower +So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it +A metaphor of peace;—all form a scene _15 +Where musing Solitude might love to lift +Her soul above this sphere of earthliness; +Where Silence undisturbed might watch alone, +So cold, so bright, so still. +The orb of day, +In southern climes, o’er ocean’s waveless field _20 +Sinks sweetly smiling: not the faintest breath +Steals o’er the unruffled deep; the clouds of eve +Reflect unmoved the lingering beam of day; +And vesper’s image on the western main +Is beautifully still. To-morrow comes: _25 +Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, +Roll o’er the blackened waters; the deep roar +Of distant thunder mutters awfully; +Tempest unfolds its pinion o’er the gloom +That shrouds the boiling surge; the pitiless fiend, _30 +With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey; +The torn deep yawns,—the vessel finds a grave +Beneath its jagged gulf. +Ah! whence yon glare +That fires the arch of Heaven!—that dark red smoke +Blotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched _35 +In darkness, and the pure and spangling snow +Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round! +Hark to that roar, whose swift and deaf’ning peals +In countless echoes through the mountains ring, +Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne! _40 +Now swells the intermingling din; the jar +Frequent and frightful of the bursting bomb; +The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the shout, +The ceaseless clangour, and the rush of men +Inebriate with rage:—loud, and more loud _45 +The discord grows; till pale Death shuts the scene, +And o’er the conqueror and the conquered draws +His cold and bloody shroud.—Of all the men +Whom day’s departing beam saw blooming there, +In proud and vigorous health; of all the hearts _50 +That beat with anxious life at sunset there; +How few survive, how few are beating now! +All is deep silence, like the fearful calm +That slumbers in the storm’s portentous pause; +Save when the frantic wail of widowed love _55 +Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moan +With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay +Wrapped round its struggling powers. +The gray morn +Dawns on the mournful scene; the sulphurous smoke +Before the icy wind slow rolls away, _60 +And the bright beams of frosty morning dance +Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood +Even to the forest’s depth, and scattered arms, +And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments _65 +Death’s self could change not, mark the dreadful path +Of the outsallying victors: far behind, +Black ashes note where their proud city stood. +Within yon forest is a gloomy glen— +Each tree which guards its darkness from the day, +Waves o’er a warrior’s tomb. +I see thee shrink, _70 +Surpassing Spirit!—wert thou human else? +I see a shade of doubt and horror fleet +Across thy stainless features: yet fear not; +This is no unconnected misery, +Nor stands uncaused, and irretrievable. _75 +Man’s evil nature, that apology +Which kings who rule, and cowards who crouch, set up +For their unnumbered crimes, sheds not the blood +Which desolates the discord-wasted land. +From kings, and priests, and statesmen, war arose, _80 +Whose safety is man’s deep unbettered woe, +Whose grandeur his debasement. Let the axe +Strike at the root, the poison-tree will fall; +And where its venomed exhalations spread +Ruin, and death, and woe, where millions lay _85 +Quenching the serpent’s famine, and their bones +Bleaching unburied in the putrid blast, +A garden shall arise, in loveliness +Surpassing fabled Eden. +Hath Nature’s soul, +That formed this world so beautiful, that spread _90 +Earth’s lap with plenty, and life’s smallest chord +Strung to unchanging unison, that gave +The happy birds their dwelling in the grove, +That yielded to the wanderers of the deep +The lovely silence of the unfathomed main, _95 +And filled the meanest worm that crawls in dust +With spirit, thought, and love; on Man alone, +Partial in causeless malice, wantonly +Heaped ruin, vice, and slavery; his soul +Blasted with withering curses; placed afar _100 +The meteor-happiness, that shuns his grasp, +But serving on the frightful gulf to glare, +Rent wide beneath his footsteps? +Nature!—no! +Kings, priests, and statesmen, blast the human flower +Even in its tender bud; their influence darts _105 +Like subtle poison through the bloodless veins +Of desolate society. The child, +Ere he can lisp his mother’s sacred name, +Swells with the unnatural pride of crime, and lifts +His baby-sword even in a hero’s mood. _110 +This infant-arm becomes the bloodiest scourge +Of devastated earth; whilst specious names, +Learned in soft childhood’s unsuspecting hour, +Serve as the sophisms with which manhood dims +Bright Reason’s ray, and sanctifies the sword _115 +Upraised to shed a brother’s innocent blood. +Let priest-led slaves cease to proclaim that man +Inherits vice and misery, when Force +And Falsehood hang even o’er the cradled babe +Stifling with rudest grasp all natural good. _120 +‘Ah! to the stranger-soul, when first it peeps +From its new tenement, and looks abroad +For happiness and sympathy, how stern +And desolate a tract is this wide world! +How withered all the buds of natural good! _125 +No shade, no shelter from the sweeping storms +Of pitiless power! On its wretched frame, +Poisoned, perchance, by the disease and woe +Heaped on the wretched parent whence it sprung +By morals, law, and custom, the pure winds _130 +Of Heaven, that renovate the insect tribes, +May breathe not. The untainting light of day +May visit not its longings. It is bound +Ere it has life: yea, all the chains are forged +Long ere its being: all liberty and love _135 +And peace is torn from its defencelessness; +Cursed from its birth, even from its cradle doomed +To abjectness and bondage! + +‘Throughout this varied and eternal world +Soul is the only element: the block _140 +That for uncounted ages has remained +The moveless pillar of a mountain’s weight +Is active, living spirit. Every grain +Is sentient both in unity and part, +And the minutest atom comprehends _145 +A world of loves and hatreds; these beget +Evil and good: hence truth and falsehood spring; +Hence will and thought and action, all the germs +Of pain or pleasure, sympathy or hate, +That variegate the eternal universe. _150 +Soul is not more polluted than the beams +Of Heaven’s pure orb, ere round their rapid lines +The taint of earth-born atmospheres arise. + +‘Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds +Of high resolve, on fancy’s boldest wing _155 +To soar unwearied, fearlessly to turn +The keenest pangs to peacefulness, and taste +The joys which mingled sense and spirit yield. +Or he is formed for abjectness and woe, +To grovel on the dunghill of his fears, _160 +To shrink at every sound, to quench the flame +Of natural love in sensualism, to know +That hour as blessed when on his worthless days +The frozen hand of Death shall set its seal, +Yet fear the cure, though hating the disease. _165 +The one is man that shall hereafter be; +The other, man as vice has made him now. + +‘War is the statesman’s game, the priest’s delight, +The lawyer’s jest, the hired assassin’s trade, +And, to those royal murderers, whose mean thrones _170 +Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore, +The bread they eat, the staff on which they lean. +Guards, garbed in blood-red livery, surround +Their palaces, participate the crimes +That force defends, and from a nation’s rage _175 +Secure the crown, which all the curses reach +That famine, frenzy, woe and penury breathe. +These are the hired bravos who defend +The tyrant’s throne—the bullies of his fear: +These are the sinks and channels of worst vice, _180 +The refuse of society, the dregs +Of all that is most vile: their cold hearts blend +Deceit with sternness, ignorance with pride, +All that is mean and villanous, with rage +Which hopelessness of good, and self-contempt, _185 +Alone might kindle; they are decked in wealth, +Honour and power, then are sent abroad +To do their work. The pestilence that stalks +In gloomy triumph through some eastern land +Is less destroying. They cajole with gold, _190 +And promises of fame, the thoughtless youth +Already crushed with servitude: he knows +His wretchedness too late, and cherishes +Repentance for his ruin, when his doom +Is sealed in gold and blood! _195 +Those too the tyrant serve, who, skilled to snare +The feet of Justice in the toils of law, +Stand, ready to oppress the weaker still; +And right or wrong will vindicate for gold, +Sneering at public virtue, which beneath _200 +Their pitiless tread lies torn and trampled, where +Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth. + +‘Then grave and hoary-headed hypocrites, +Without a hope, a passion, or a love, +Who, through a life of luxury and lies, _205 +Have crept by flattery to the seats of power, +Support the system whence their honours flow... +They have three words:—well tyrants know their use, +Well pay them for the loan, with usury +Torn from a bleeding world!—God, Hell, and Heaven. _210 +A vengeful, pitiless, and almighty fiend, +Whose mercy is a nickname for the rage +Of tameless tigers hungering for blood. +Hell, a red gulf of everlasting fire, +Where poisonous and undying worms prolong _215 +Eternal misery to those hapless slaves +Whose life has been a penance for its crimes. +And Heaven, a meed for those who dare belie +Their human nature, quake, believe, and cringe +Before the mockeries of earthly power. _220 + +‘These tools the tyrant tempers to his work, +Wields in his wrath, and as he wills destroys, +Omnipotent in wickedness: the while +Youth springs, age moulders, manhood tamely does +His bidding, bribed by short-lived joys to lend _225 +Force to the weakness of his trembling arm. + +‘They rise, they fall; one generation comes +Yielding its harvest to destruction’s scythe. +It fades, another blossoms: yet behold! +Red glows the tyrant’s stamp-mark on its bloom, _230 +Withering and cankering deep its passive prime. +He has invented lying words and modes, +Empty and vain as his own coreless heart; +Evasive meanings, nothings of much sound, +To lure the heedless victim to the toils _235 +Spread round the valley of its paradise. + +‘Look to thyself, priest, conqueror, or prince! +Whether thy trade is falsehood, and thy lusts +Deep wallow in the earnings of the poor, +With whom thy Master was:—or thou delight’st _240 +In numbering o’er the myriads of thy slain, +All misery weighing nothing in the scale +Against thy short-lived fame: or thou dost load +With cowardice and crime the groaning land, +A pomp-fed king. Look to thy wretched self! _245 +Ay, art thou not the veriest slave that e’er +Crawled on the loathing earth? Are not thy days +Days of unsatisfying listlessness? +Dost thou not cry, ere night’s long rack is o’er, +“When will the morning come?” Is not thy youth _250 +A vain and feverish dream of sensualism? +Thy manhood blighted with unripe disease? +Are not thy views of unregretted death +Drear, comfortless, and horrible? Thy mind, +Is it not morbid as thy nerveless frame, _255 +Incapable of judgement, hope, or love? +And dost thou wish the errors to survive +That bar thee from all sympathies of good, +After the miserable interest +Thou hold’st in their protraction? When the grave _260 +Has swallowed up thy memory and thyself, +Dost thou desire the bane that poisons earth +To twine its roots around thy coffined clay, +Spring from thy bones, and blossom on thy tomb, +That of its fruit thy babes may eat and die? _265 + +NOTE: +_176 Secures edition 1813. + +5. + +‘Thus do the generations of the earth +Go to the grave, and issue from the womb, +Surviving still the imperishable change +That renovates the world; even as the leaves +Which the keen frost-wind of the waning year _5 +Has scattered on the forest soil, and heaped +For many seasons there—though long they choke, +Loading with loathsome rottenness the land, +All germs of promise, yet when the tall trees +From which they fell, shorn of their lovely shapes, _10 +Lie level with the earth to moulder there, +They fertilize the land they long deformed, +Till from the breathing lawn a forest springs +Of youth, integrity, and loveliness, +Like that which gave it life, to spring and die. _15 +Thus suicidal selfishness, that blights +The fairest feelings of the opening heart, +Is destined to decay, whilst from the soil +Shall spring all virtue, all delight, all love, +And judgement cease to wage unnatural war _20 +With passion’s unsubduable array. +Twin-sister of religion, selfishness! +Rival in crime and falsehood, aping all +The wanton horrors of her bloody play; +Yet frozen, unimpassioned, spiritless, _25 +Shunning the light, and owning not its name, +Compelled, by its deformity, to screen, +With flimsy veil of justice and of right, +Its unattractive lineaments, that scare +All, save the brood of ignorance: at once _30 +The cause and the effect of tyranny; +Unblushing, hardened, sensual, and vile; +Dead to all love but of its abjectness, +With heart impassive by more noble powers +Than unshared pleasure, sordid gain, or fame; _35 +Despising its own miserable being, +Which still it longs, yet fears to disenthrall. + +‘Hence commerce springs, the venal interchange +Of all that human art or nature yield; +Which wealth should purchase not, but want demand, _40 +And natural kindness hasten to supply +From the full fountain of its boundless love, +For ever stifled, drained, and tainted now. +Commerce! beneath whose poison-breathing shade +No solitary virtue dares to spring, _45 +But Poverty and Wealth with equal hand +Scatter their withering curses, and unfold +The doors of premature and violent death, +To pining famine and full-fed disease, +To all that shares the lot of human life, _50 +Which poisoned, body and soul, scarce drags the chain, +That lengthens as it goes and clanks behind. + +‘Commerce has set the mark of selfishness, +The signet of its all-enslaving power +Upon a shining ore, and called it gold: _55 +Before whose image bow the vulgar great, +The vainly rich, the miserable proud, +The mob of peasants, nobles, priests, and kings, +And with blind feelings reverence the power +That grinds them to the dust of misery. _60 +But in the temple of their hireling hearts +Gold is a living god, and rules in scorn +All earthly things but virtue. + +‘Since tyrants, by the sale of human life, +Heap luxuries to their sensualism, and fame _65 +To their wide-wasting and insatiate pride, +Success has sanctioned to a credulous world +The ruin, the disgrace, the woe of war. +His hosts of blind and unresisting dupes +The despot numbers; from his cabinet _70 +These puppets of his schemes he moves at will, +Even as the slaves by force or famine driven, +Beneath a vulgar master, to perform +A task of cold and brutal drudgery;— +Hardened to hope, insensible to fear, _75 +Scarce living pulleys of a dead machine, +Mere wheels of work and articles of trade, +That grace the proud and noisy pomp of wealth! + +‘The harmony and happiness of man +Yields to the wealth of nations; that which lifts _80 +His nature to the heaven of its pride, +Is bartered for the poison of his soul; +The weight that drags to earth his towering hopes, +Blighting all prospect but of selfish gain, +Withering all passion but of slavish fear, _85 +Extinguishing all free and generous love +Of enterprise and daring, even the pulse +That fancy kindles in the beating heart +To mingle with sensation, it destroys,— +Leaves nothing but the sordid lust of self, _90 +The grovelling hope of interest and gold, +Unqualified, unmingled, unredeemed +Even by hypocrisy. +And statesmen boast +Of wealth! The wordy eloquence, that lives +After the ruin of their hearts, can gild _95 +The bitter poison of a nation’s woe, +Can turn the worship of the servile mob +To their corrupt and glaring idol, Fame, +From Virtue, trampled by its iron tread, +Although its dazzling pedestal be raised _100 +Amid the horrors of a limb-strewn field, +With desolated dwellings smoking round. +The man of ease, who, by his warm fireside, +To deeds of charitable intercourse, +And bare fulfilment of the common laws _105 +Of decency and prejudice, confines +The struggling nature of his human heart, +Is duped by their cold sophistry; he sheds +A passing tear perchance upon the wreck +Of earthly peace, when near his dwelling’s door _110 +The frightful waves are driven,—when his son +Is murdered by the tyrant, or religion +Drives his wife raving mad. But the poor man, +Whose life is misery, and fear, and care; +Whom the morn wakens but to fruitless toil; _115 +Who ever hears his famished offspring’s scream, +Whom their pale mother’s uncomplaining gaze +For ever meets, and the proud rich man’s eye +Flashing command, and the heart-breaking scene +Of thousands like himself;—he little heeds _120 +The rhetoric of tyranny; his hate +Is quenchless as his wrongs; he laughs to scorn +The vain and bitter mockery of words, +Feeling the horror of the tyrant’s deeds, +And unrestrained but by the arm of power, _125 +That knows and dreads his enmity. + +‘The iron rod of Penury still compels +Her wretched slave to bow the knee to wealth, +And poison, with unprofitable toil, +A life too void of solace to confirm _130 +The very chains that bind him to his doom. +Nature, impartial in munificence, +Has gifted man with all-subduing will. +Matter, with all its transitory shapes, +Lies subjected and plastic at his feet, _135 +That, weak from bondage, tremble as they tread. +How many a rustic Milton has passed by, +Stifling the speechless longings of his heart, +In unremitting drudgery and care! +How many a vulgar Cato has compelled _140 +His energies, no longer tameless then, +To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail! +How many a Newton, to whose passive ken +Those mighty spheres that gem infinity +Were only specks of tinsel, fixed in Heaven _145 +To light the midnights of his native town! + +‘Yet every heart contains perfection’s germ: +The wisest of the sages of the earth, +That ever from the stores of reason drew +Science and truth, and virtue’s dreadless tone, _150 +Were but a weak and inexperienced boy, +Proud, sensual, unimpassioned, unimbued +With pure desire and universal love, +Compared to that high being, of cloudless brain, +Untainted passion, elevated will, _155 +Which Death (who even would linger long in awe +Within his noble presence, and beneath +His changeless eyebeam) might alone subdue. +Him, every slave now dragging through the filth +Of some corrupted city his sad life, _160 +Pining with famine, swoln with luxury, +Blunting the keenness of his spiritual sense +With narrow schemings and unworthy cares, +Or madly rushing through all violent crime, +To move the deep stagnation of his soul,— _165 +Might imitate and equal. +But mean lust +Has bound its chains so tight around the earth, +That all within it but the virtuous man +Is venal: gold or fame will surely reach +The price prefixed by selfishness, to all _170 +But him of resolute and unchanging will; +Whom, nor the plaudits of a servile crowd, +Nor the vile joys of tainting luxury, +Can bribe to yield his elevated soul +To Tyranny or Falsehood, though they wield _175 +With blood-red hand the sceptre of the world. + +‘All things are sold: the very light of Heaven +Is venal; earth’s unsparing gifts of love, +The smallest and most despicable things +That lurk in the abysses of the deep, _180 +All objects of our life, even life itself, +And the poor pittance which the laws allow +Of liberty, the fellowship of man, +Those duties which his heart of human love +Should urge him to perform instinctively, _185 +Are bought and sold as in a public mart +Of undisguising selfishness, that sets +On each its price, the stamp-mark of her reign. +Even love is sold; the solace of all woe +Is turned to deadliest agony, old age _190 +Shivers in selfish beauty’s loathing arms, +And youth’s corrupted impulses prepare +A life of horror from the blighting bane +Of commerce; whilst the pestilence that springs +From unenjoying sensualism, has filled _195 +All human life with hydra-headed woes. + +‘Falsehood demands but gold to pay the pangs +Of outraged conscience; for the slavish priest +Sets no great value on his hireling faith: +A little passing pomp, some servile souls, _200 +Whom cowardice itself might safely chain, +Or the spare mite of avarice could bribe +To deck the triumph of their languid zeal, +Can make him minister to tyranny. +More daring crime requires a loftier meed: _205 +Without a shudder, the slave-soldier lends +His arm to murderous deeds, and steels his heart, +When the dread eloquence of dying men, +Low mingling on the lonely field of fame, +Assails that nature, whose applause he sells _210 +For the gross blessings of a patriot mob, +For the vile gratitude of heartless kings, +And for a cold world’s good word,—viler still! + +‘There is a nobler glory, which survives +Until our being fades, and, solacing _215 +All human care, accompanies its change; +Deserts not virtue in the dungeon’s gloom, +And, in the precincts of the palace, guides +Its footsteps through that labyrinth of crime; +Imbues his lineaments with dauntlessness, _220 +Even when, from Power’s avenging hand, he takes +Its sweetest, last and noblest title—death; +—The consciousness of good, which neither gold, +Nor sordid fame, nor hope of heavenly bliss +Can purchase; but a life of resolute good,— _225 +Unalterable will, quenchless desire +Of universal happiness, the heart +That beats with it in unison, the brain, +Whose ever wakeful wisdom toils to change +Reason’s rich stores for its eternal weal. _230 + +‘This commerce of sincerest virtue needs +No mediative signs of selfishness, +No jealous intercourse of wretched gain, +No balancings of prudence, cold and long; +In just and equal measure all is weighed, _235 +One scale contains the sum of human weal, +And one, the good man’s heart. +How vainly seek +The selfish for that happiness denied +To aught but virtue! Blind and hardened, they, +Who hope for peace amid the storms of care, _240 +Who covet power they know not how to use, +And sigh for pleasure they refuse to give,— +Madly they frustrate still their own designs; +And, where they hope that quiet to enjoy +Which virtue pictures, bitterness of soul, _245 +Pining regrets, and vain repentances, +Disease, disgust, and lassitude, pervade +Their valueless and miserable lives. + +‘But hoary-headed Selfishness has felt +Its death-blow, and is tottering to the grave: _250 +A brighter morn awaits the human day, +When every transfer of earth’s natural gifts +Shall be a commerce of good words and works; +When poverty and wealth, the thirst of fame, +The fear of infamy, disease and woe, _255 +War with its million horrors, and fierce hell +Shall live but in the memory of Time, +Who, like a penitent libertine, shall start, +Look back, and shudder at his younger years.’ + +6. + +All touch, all eye, all ear, +The Spirit felt the Fairy’s burning speech. +O’er the thin texture of its frame, +The varying periods painted changing glows, +As on a summer even, _5 +When soul-enfolding music floats around, +The stainless mirror of the lake +Re-images the eastern gloom, +Mingling convulsively its purple hues +With sunset’s burnished gold. _10 + +Then thus the Spirit spoke: +‘It is a wild and miserable world! +Thorny, and full of care, +Which every fiend can make his prey at will. +O Fairy! in the lapse of years, _15 +Is there no hope in store? +Will yon vast suns roll on +Interminably, still illuming +The night of so many wretched souls, +And see no hope for them? _20 +Will not the universal Spirit e’er +Revivify this withered limb of Heaven?’ + +The Fairy calmly smiled +In comfort, and a kindling gleam of hope +Suffused the Spirit’s lineaments. _25 +‘Oh! rest thee tranquil; chase those fearful doubts, +Which ne’er could rack an everlasting soul, +That sees the chains which bind it to its doom. +Yes! crime and misery are in yonder earth, +Falsehood, mistake, and lust; _30 +But the eternal world +Contains at once the evil and the cure. +Some eminent in virtue shall start up, +Even in perversest time: +The truths of their pure lips, that never die, _35 +Shall bind the scorpion falsehood with a wreath +Of ever-living flame, +Until the monster sting itself to death. + +‘How sweet a scene will earth become! +Of purest spirits a pure dwelling-place, _40 +Symphonious with the planetary spheres; +When man, with changeless Nature coalescing, +Will undertake regeneration’s work, +When its ungenial poles no longer point +To the red and baleful sun _45 +That faintly twinkles there. + +‘Spirit! on yonder earth, +Falsehood now triumphs; deadly power +Has fixed its seal upon the lip of truth! +Madness and misery are there! _50 +The happiest is most wretched! Yet confide, +Until pure health-drops, from the cup of joy, +Fall like a dew of balm upon the world. +Now, to the scene I show, in silence turn, +And read the blood-stained charter of all woe, _55 +Which Nature soon, with re-creating hand, +Will blot in mercy from the book of earth. +How bold the flight of Passion’s wandering wing, +How swift the step of Reason’s firmer tread, +How calm and sweet the victories of life, _60 +How terrorless the triumph of the grave! +How powerless were the mightiest monarch’s arm, +Vain his loud threat, and impotent his frown! +How ludicrous the priest’s dogmatic roar! +The weight of his exterminating curse _65 +How light! and his affected charity, +To suit the pressure of the changing times, +What palpable deceit!—but for thy aid, +Religion! but for thee, prolific fiend, +Who peoplest earth with demons, Hell with men, _70 +And Heaven with slaves! + +‘Thou taintest all thou look’st upon!—the stars, +Which on thy cradle beamed so brightly sweet, +Were gods to the distempered playfulness +Of thy untutored infancy: the trees, _75 +The grass, the clouds, the mountains, and the sea, +All living things that walk, swim, creep, or fly, +Were gods: the sun had homage, and the moon +Her worshipper. Then thou becam’st, a boy, +More daring in thy frenzies: every shape, _80 +Monstrous or vast, or beautifully wild, +Which, from sensation’s relics, fancy culls +The spirits of the air, the shuddering ghost, +The genii of the elements, the powers +That give a shape to Nature’s varied works, _85 +Had life and place in the corrupt belief +Of thy blind heart: yet still thy youthful hands +Were pure of human blood. Then manhood gave +Its strength and ardour to thy frenzied brain; +Thine eager gaze scanned the stupendous scene, _90 +Whose wonders mocked the knowledge of thy pride: +Their everlasting and unchanging laws +Reproached thine ignorance. Awhile thou stoodst +Baffled and gloomy; then thou didst sum up +The elements of all that thou didst know; _95 +The changing seasons, winter’s leafless reign, +The budding of the Heaven-breathing trees, +The eternal orbs that beautify the night, +The sunrise, and the setting of the moon, +Earthquakes and wars, and poisons and disease, _100 +And all their causes, to an abstract point +Converging, thou didst bend and called it God! +The self-sufficing, the omnipotent, +The merciful, and the avenging God! +Who, prototype of human misrule, sits _105 +High in Heaven’s realm, upon a golden throne, +Even like an earthly king; and whose dread work, +Hell, gapes for ever for the unhappy slaves +Of fate, whom He created, in his sport, +To triumph in their torments when they fell! _110 +Earth heard the name; Earth trembled, as the smoke +Of His revenge ascended up to Heaven, +Blotting the constellations; and the cries +Of millions, butchered in sweet confidence +And unsuspecting peace, even when the bonds _115 +Of safety were confirmed by wordy oaths +Sworn in His dreadful name, rung through the land; +Whilst innocent babes writhed on thy stubborn spear, +And thou didst laugh to hear the mother’s shriek +Of maniac gladness, as the sacred steel _120 +Felt cold in her torn entrails! + +‘Religion! thou wert then in manhood’s prime: +But age crept on: one God would not suffice +For senile puerility; thou framedst +A tale to suit thy dotage, and to glut _125 +Thy misery-thirsting soul, that the mad fiend +Thy wickedness had pictured might afford +A plea for sating the unnatural thirst +For murder, rapine, violence, and crime, +That still consumed thy being, even when _130 +Thou heardst the step of Fate;—that flames might light +Thy funeral scene, and the shrill horrent shrieks +Of parents dying on the pile that burned +To light their children to thy paths, the roar +Of the encircling flames, the exulting cries _135 +Of thine apostles, loud commingling there, +Might sate thine hungry ear +Even on the bed of death! + +‘But now contempt is mocking thy gray hairs; +Thou art descending to the darksome grave, _140 +Unhonoured and unpitied, but by those +Whose pride is passing by like thine, and sheds, +Like thine, a glare that fades before the sun +Of truth, and shines but in the dreadful night +That long has lowered above the ruined world. _145 + +‘Throughout these infinite orbs of mingling light, +Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffused +A Spirit of activity and life, +That knows no term, cessation, or decay; +That fades not when the lamp of earthly life, _150 +Extinguished in the dampness of the grave, +Awhile there slumbers, more than when the babe +In the dim newness of its being feels +The impulses of sublunary things, +And all is wonder to unpractised sense: _155 +But, active, steadfast, and eternal, still +Guides the fierce whirlwind, in the tempest roars, +Cheers in the day, breathes in the balmy groves, +Strengthens in health, and poisons in disease; +And in the storm of change, that ceaselessly _160 +Rolls round the eternal universe, and shakes +Its undecaying battlement, presides, +Apportioning with irresistible law +The place each spring of its machine shall fill; +So that when waves on waves tumultuous heap _165 +Confusion to the clouds, and fiercely driven +Heaven’s lightnings scorch the uprooted ocean-fords, +Whilst, to the eye of shipwrecked mariner, +Lone sitting on the bare and shuddering rock, +All seems unlinked contingency and chance: _170 +No atom of this turbulence fulfils +A vague and unnecessitated task, +Or acts but as it must and ought to act. +Even the minutest molecule of light, +That in an April sunbeam’s fleeting glow _175 +Fulfils its destined, though invisible work, +The universal Spirit guides; nor less, +When merciless ambition, or mad zeal, +Has led two hosts of dupes to battlefield, +That, blind, they there may dig each other’s graves, _180 +And call the sad work glory, does it rule +All passions: not a thought, a will, an act, +No working of the tyrant’s moody mind, +Nor one misgiving of the slaves who boast +Their servitude, to hide the shame they feel, _185 +Nor the events enchaining every will, +That from the depths of unrecorded time +Have drawn all-influencing virtue, pass +Unrecognized, or unforeseen by thee, +Soul of the Universe! eternal spring _190 +Of life and death, of happiness and woe, +Of all that chequers the phantasmal scene +That floats before our eyes in wavering light, +Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison, +Whose chains and massy walls _195 +We feel, but cannot see. + +‘Spirit of Nature! all-sufficing Power, +Necessity! thou mother of the world! +Unlike the God of human error, thou +Requir’st no prayers or praises; the caprice _200 +Of man’s weak will belongs no more to thee +Than do the changeful passions of his breast +To thy unvarying harmony: the slave, +Whose horrible lusts spread misery o’er the world, +And the good man, who lifts, with virtuous pride, _205 +His being, in the sight of happiness, +That springs from his own works; the poison-tree +Beneath whose shade all life is withered up, +And the fair oak, whose leafy dome affords +A temple where the vows of happy love _210 +Are registered, are equal in thy sight: +No love, no hate thou cherishest; revenge +And favouritism, and worst desire of fame +Thou know’st not: all that the wide world contains +Are but thy passive instruments, and thou _215 +Regard’st them all with an impartial eye, +Whose joy or pain thy nature cannot feel, +Because thou hast not human sense, +Because thou art not human mind. + +‘Yes! when the sweeping storm of time _220 +Has sung its death-dirge o’er the ruined fanes +And broken altars of the almighty Fiend +Whose name usurps thy honours, and the blood +Through centuries clotted there, has floated down +The tainted flood of ages, shalt thou live _225 +Unchangeable! A shrine is raised to thee, +Which, nor the tempest-breath of time, +Nor the interminable flood, +Over earth’s slight pageant rolling, +Availeth to destroy,—. _230 +The sensitive extension of the world. +That wondrous and eternal fane, +Where pain and pleasure, good and evil join, +To do the will of strong necessity, +And life, in multitudinous shapes, _235 +Still pressing forward where no term can be, +Like hungry and unresting flame +Curls round the eternal columns of its strength.’ + +7. + +SPIRIT: +‘I was an infant when my mother went +To see an atheist burned. She took me there: +The dark-robed priests were met around the pile; +The multitude was gazing silently; +And as the culprit passed with dauntless mien, _5 +Tempered disdain in his unaltering eye, +Mixed with a quiet smile, shone calmly forth: +The thirsty fire crept round his manly limbs; +His resolute eyes were scorched to blindness soon; +His death-pang rent my heart! the insensate mob _10 +Uttered a cry of triumph, and I wept. +“Weep not, child!” cried my mother, “for that man +Has said, There is no God.”’ + +FAIRY: +‘There is no God! +Nature confirms the faith his death-groan sealed: +Let heaven and earth, let man’s revolving race, _15 +His ceaseless generations tell their tale; +Let every part depending on the chain +That links it to the whole, point to the hand +That grasps its term! let every seed that falls +In silent eloquence unfold its store _20 +Of argument; infinity within, +Infinity without, belie creation; +The exterminable spirit it contains +Is nature’s only God; but human pride +Is skilful to invent most serious names _25 +To hide its ignorance. +The name of God +Has fenced about all crime with holiness, +Himself the creature of His worshippers, +Whose names and attributes and passions change, +Seeva, Buddh, Foh, Jehovah, God, or Lord, _30 +Even with the human dupes who build His shrines, +Still serving o’er the war-polluted world +For desolation’s watchword; whether hosts +Stain His death-blushing chariot-wheels, as on +Triumphantly they roll, whilst Brahmins raise _35 +A sacred hymn to mingle with the groans; +Or countless partners of His power divide +His tyranny to weakness; or the smoke +Of burning towns, the cries of female helplessness, +Unarmed old age, and youth, and infancy, _40 +Horribly massacred, ascend to Heaven +In honour of His name; or, last and worst, +Earth groans beneath religion’s iron age, +And priests dare babble of a God of peace, +Even whilst their hands are red with guiltless blood, _45 +Murdering the while, uprooting every germ +Of truth, exterminating, spoiling all, +Making the earth a slaughter-house! + +‘O Spirit! through the sense +By which thy inner nature was apprised _50 +Of outward shows, vague dreams have rolled, +And varied reminiscences have waked +Tablets that never fade; +All things have been imprinted there, +The stars, the sea, the earth, the sky, _55 +Even the unshapeliest lineaments +Of wild and fleeting visions +Have left a record there +To testify of earth. + +‘These are my empire, for to me is given _60 +The wonders of the human world to keep, +And Fancy’s thin creations to endow +With manner, being, and reality; +Therefore a wondrous phantom, from the dreams +Of human error’s dense and purblind faith, _65 +I will evoke, to meet thy questioning. +Ahasuerus, rise!’ + +A strange and woe-worn wight +Arose beside the battlement, +And stood unmoving there. _70 +His inessential figure cast no shade +Upon the golden floor; +His port and mien bore mark of many years, +And chronicles of untold ancientness +Were legible within his beamless eye: _75 +Yet his cheek bore the mark of youth; +Freshness and vigour knit his manly frame; +The wisdom of old age was mingled there +With youth’s primaeval dauntlessness; +And inexpressible woe, _80 +Chastened by fearless resignation, gave +An awful grace to his all-speaking brow. + +SPIRIT: +‘Is there a God?’ + +AHASUERUS: +‘Is there a God!—ay, an almighty God, +And vengeful as almighty! Once His voice _85 +Was heard on earth: earth shuddered at the sound; +The fiery-visaged firmament expressed +Abhorrence, and the grave of Nature yawned +To swallow all the dauntless and the good +That dared to hurl defiance at His throne, _90 +Girt as it was with power. None but slaves +Survived,—cold-blooded slaves, who did the work +Of tyrannous omnipotence; whose souls +No honest indignation ever urged +To elevated daring, to one deed _95 +Which gross and sensual self did not pollute. +These slaves built temples for the omnipotent Fiend, +Gorgeous and vast: the costly altars smoked +With human blood, and hideous paeans rung +Through all the long-drawn aisles. A murderer heard _100 +His voice in Egypt, one whose gifts and arts +Had raised him to his eminence in power, +Accomplice of omnipotence in crime, +And confidant of the all-knowing one. +These were Jehovah’s words:— _105 + +‘From an eternity of idleness +I, God, awoke; in seven days’ toil made earth +From nothing; rested, and created man: +I placed him in a Paradise, and there +Planted the tree of evil, so that he _110 +Might eat and perish, and My soul procure +Wherewith to sate its malice, and to turn, +Even like a heartless conqueror of the earth, +All misery to My fame. The race of men +Chosen to My honour, with impunity _115 +May sate the lusts I planted in their heart. +Here I command thee hence to lead them on, +Until, with hardened feet, their conquering troops +Wade on the promised soil through woman’s blood, +And make My name be dreaded through the land. _120 +Yet ever-burning flame and ceaseless woe +Shall be the doom of their eternal souls, +With every soul on this ungrateful earth, +Virtuous or vicious, weak or strong,—even all +Shall perish, to fulfil the blind revenge _125 +(Which you, to men, call justice) of their God.’ + +The murderer’s brow +Quivered with horror. +‘God omnipotent, +Is there no mercy? must our punishment +Be endless? will long ages roll away, _130 +And see no term? Oh! wherefore hast Thou made +In mockery and wrath this evil earth? +Mercy becomes the powerful—be but just: +O God! repent and save.’ + +‘One way remains: +I will beget a Son, and He shall bear _135 +The sins of all the world; He shall arise +In an unnoticed corner of the earth, +And there shall die upon a cross, and purge +The universal crime; so that the few +On whom My grace descends, those who are marked _140 +As vessels to the honour of their God, +May credit this strange sacrifice, and save +Their souls alive: millions shall live and die, +Who ne’er shall call upon their Saviour’s name, +But, unredeemed, go to the gaping grave. _145 +Thousands shall deem it an old woman’s tale, +Such as the nurses frighten babes withal: +These in a gulf of anguish and of flame +Shall curse their reprobation endlessly, +Yet tenfold pangs shall force them to avow, _150 +Even on their beds of torment, where they howl, +My honour, and the justice of their doom. +What then avail their virtuous deeds, their thoughts +Of purity, with radiant genius bright, +Or lit with human reason’s earthly ray? _155 +Many are called, but few will I elect. +Do thou My bidding, Moses!’ +Even the murderer’s cheek +Was blanched with horror, and his quivering lips +Scarce faintly uttered—‘O almighty One, +I tremble and obey!’ _160 + +‘O Spirit! centuries have set their seal +On this heart of many wounds, and loaded brain, +Since the Incarnate came: humbly He came, +Veiling His horrible Godhead in the shape +Of man, scorned by the world, His name unheard, _165 +Save by the rabble of His native town, +Even as a parish demagogue. He led +The crowd; He taught them justice, truth, and peace, +In semblance; but He lit within their souls +The quenchless flames of zeal, and blessed the sword _170 +He brought on earth to satiate with the blood +Of truth and freedom His malignant soul. +At length His mortal frame was led to death. +I stood beside Him: on the torturing cross +No pain assailed His unterrestrial sense; _175 +And yet He groaned. Indignantly I summed +The massacres and miseries which His name +Had sanctioned in my country, and I cried, +“Go! Go!” in mockery. +A smile of godlike malice reillumed _180 +His fading lineaments.—“I go,” He cried, +“But thou shalt wander o’er the unquiet earth +Eternally.”—The dampness of the grave +Bathed my imperishable front. I fell, +And long lay tranced upon the charmed soil. _185 +When I awoke Hell burned within my brain, +Which staggered on its seat; for all around +The mouldering relics of my kindred lay, +Even as the Almighty’s ire arrested them, +And in their various attitudes of death _190 +My murdered children’s mute and eyeless skulls +Glared ghastily upon me. +But my soul, +From sight and sense of the polluting woe +Of tyranny, had long learned to prefer +Hell’s freedom to the servitude of Heaven. _195 +Therefore I rose, and dauntlessly began +My lonely and unending pilgrimage, +Resolved to wage unweariable war +With my almighty Tyrant, and to hurl +Defiance at His impotence to harm _200 +Beyond the curse I bore. The very hand +That barred my passage to the peaceful grave +Has crushed the earth to misery, and given +Its empire to the chosen of His slaves. +These have I seen, even from the earliest dawn _205 +Of weak, unstable and precarious power, +Then preaching peace, as now they practise war; +So, when they turned but from the massacre +Of unoffending infidels, to quench +Their thirst for ruin in the very blood _210 +That flowed in their own veins, and pitiless zeal +Froze every human feeling, as the wife +Sheathed in her husband’s heart the sacred steel, +Even whilst its hopes were dreaming of her love; +And friends to friends, brothers to brothers stood _215 +Opposed in bloodiest battle-field, and war, +Scarce satiable by fate’s last death-draught, waged, +Drunk from the winepress of the Almighty’s wrath; +Whilst the red cross, in mockery of peace, +Pointed to victory! When the fray was done, _220 +No remnant of the exterminated faith +Survived to tell its ruin, but the flesh, +With putrid smoke poisoning the atmosphere, +That rotted on the half-extinguished pile. + +‘Yes! I have seen God’s worshippers unsheathe _225 +The sword of His revenge, when grace descended, +Confirming all unnatural impulses, +To sanctify their desolating deeds; +And frantic priests waved the ill-omened cross +O’er the unhappy earth: then shone the sun _230 +On showers of gore from the upflashing steel +Of safe assassination, and all crime +Made stingless by the Spirits of the Lord, +And blood-red rainbows canopied the land. +‘Spirit, no year of my eventful being _235 +Has passed unstained by crime and misery, +Which flows from God’s own faith. I’ve marked His slaves +With tongues whose lies are venomous, beguile +The insensate mob, and, whilst one hand was red +With murder, feign to stretch the other out _240 +For brotherhood and peace; and that they now +Babble of love and mercy, whilst their deeds +Are marked with all the narrowness and crime +That Freedom’s young arm dare not yet chastise, +Reason may claim our gratitude, who now _245 +Establishing the imperishable throne +Of truth, and stubborn virtue, maketh vain +The unprevailing malice of my Foe, +Whose bootless rage heaps torments for the brave, +Adds impotent eternities to pain, _250 +Whilst keenest disappointment racks His breast +To see the smiles of peace around them play, +To frustrate or to sanctify their doom. + +‘Thus have I stood,—through a wild waste of years +Struggling with whirlwinds of mad agony, _255 +Yet peaceful, and serene, and self-enshrined, +Mocking my powerless Tyrant’s horrible curse +With stubborn and unalterable will, +Even as a giant oak, which Heaven’s fierce flame +Had scathed in the wilderness, to stand _260 +A monument of fadeless ruin there; +Yet peacefully and movelessly it braves +The midnight conflict of the wintry storm, +As in the sunlight’s calm it spreads +Its worn and withered arms on high _265 +To meet the quiet of a summer’s noon.’ + +The Fairy waved her wand: +Ahasuerus fled +Fast as the shapes of mingled shade and mist, +That lurk in the glens of a twilight grove, _270 +Flee from the morning beam: +The matter of which dreams are made +Not more endowed with actual life +Than this phantasmal portraiture +Of wandering human thought. _275 + +NOTE: +_180 reillumined edition 1813. + +8. + +THE FAIRY: +‘The Present and the Past thou hast beheld: +It was a desolate sight. Now, Spirit, learn +The secrets of the Future.—Time! +Unfold the brooding pinion of thy gloom, +Render thou up thy half-devoured babes, _5 +And from the cradles of eternity, +Where millions lie lulled to their portioned sleep +By the deep murmuring stream of passing things, +Tear thou that gloomy shroud.—Spirit, behold +Thy glorious destiny!’ _10 + +Joy to the Spirit came. +Through the wide rent in Time’s eternal veil, +Hope was seen beaming through the mists of fear: +Earth was no longer Hell; +Love, freedom, health, had given _15 +Their ripeness to the manhood of its prime, +And all its pulses beat +Symphonious to the planetary spheres: +Then dulcet music swelled +Concordant with the life-strings of the soul; _20 +It throbbed in sweet and languid beatings there, +Catching new life from transitory death,— +Like the vague sighings of a wind at even, +That wakes the wavelets of the slumbering sea +And dies on the creation of its breath, _25 +And sinks and rises, fails and swells by fits: +Was the pure stream of feeling +That sprung from these sweet notes, +And o’er the Spirit’s human sympathies +With mild and gentle motion calmly flowed. _30 + +Joy to the Spirit came,— +Such joy as when a lover sees +The chosen of his soul in happiness, +And witnesses her peace +Whose woe to him were bitterer than death, _35 +Sees her unfaded cheek +Glow mantling in first luxury of health, +Thrills with her lovely eyes, +Which like two stars amid the heaving main +Sparkle through liquid bliss. _40 + +Then in her triumph spoke the Fairy Queen: +‘I will not call the ghost of ages gone +To unfold the frightful secrets of its lore; +The present now is past, +And those events that desolate the earth _45 +Have faded from the memory of Time, +Who dares not give reality to that +Whose being I annul. To me is given +The wonders of the human world to keep, +Space, matter, time, and mind. Futurity _50 +Exposes now its treasure; let the sight +Renew and strengthen all thy failing hope. +O human Spirit! spur thee to the goal +Where virtue fixes universal peace, +And midst the ebb and flow of human things, _55 +Show somewhat stable, somewhat certain still, +A lighthouse o’er the wild of dreary waves. + +‘The habitable earth is full of bliss; +Those wastes of frozen billows that were hurled +By everlasting snowstorms round the poles, _60 +Where matter dared not vegetate or live, +But ceaseless frost round the vast solitude +Bound its broad zone of stillness, are unloosed; +And fragrant zephyrs there from spicy isles +Ruffle the placid ocean-deep, that rolls _65 +Its broad, bright surges to the sloping sand, +Whose roar is wakened into echoings sweet +To murmur through the Heaven-breathing groves +And melodize with man’s blest nature there. + +‘Those deserts of immeasurable sand, _70 +Whose age-collected fervours scarce allowed +A bird to live, a blade of grass to spring, +Where the shrill chirp of the green lizard’s love +Broke on the sultry silentness alone, +Now teem with countless rills and shady woods, _75 +Cornfields and pastures and white cottages; +And where the startled wilderness beheld +A savage conqueror stained in kindred blood, +A tigress sating with the flesh of lambs +The unnatural famine of her toothless cubs, _80 +Whilst shouts and howlings through the desert rang, +Sloping and smooth the daisy-spangled lawn, +Offering sweet incense to the sunrise, smiles +To see a babe before his mother’s door, +Sharing his morning’s meal _85 +With the green and golden basilisk +That comes to lick his feet. + +‘Those trackless deeps, where many a weary sail +Has seen above the illimitable plain, +Morning on night, and night on morning rise, _90 +Whilst still no land to greet the wanderer spread +Its shadowy mountains on the sun-bright sea, +Where the loud roarings of the tempest-waves +So long have mingled with the gusty wind +In melancholy loneliness, and swept _95 +The desert of those ocean solitudes, +But vocal to the sea-bird’s harrowing shriek, +The bellowing monster, and the rushing storm, +Now to the sweet and many-mingling sounds +Of kindliest human impulses respond. _100 +Those lonely realms bright garden-isles begem, +With lightsome clouds and shining seas between, +And fertile valleys, resonant with bliss, +Whilst green woods overcanopy the wave, +Which like a toil-worn labourer leaps to shore, _105 +To meet the kisses of the flow’rets there. + +‘All things are recreated, and the flame +Of consentaneous love inspires all life: +The fertile bosom of the earth gives suck +To myriads, who still grow beneath her care, _110 +Rewarding her with their pure perfectness: +The balmy breathings of the wind inhale +Her virtues, and diffuse them all abroad: +Health floats amid the gentle atmosphere, +Glows in the fruits, and mantles on the stream: _115 +No storms deform the beaming brow of Heaven, +Nor scatter in the freshness of its pride +The foliage of the ever-verdant trees; +But fruits are ever ripe, flowers ever fair, +And Autumn proudly bears her matron grace, _120 +Kindling a flush on the fair cheek of Spring, +Whose virgin bloom beneath the ruddy fruit +Reflects its tint, and blushes into love. + +‘The lion now forgets to thirst for blood: +There might you see him sporting in the sun _125 +Beside the dreadless kid; his claws are sheathed, +His teeth are harmless, custom’s force has made +His nature as the nature of a lamb. +Like passion’s fruit, the nightshade’s tempting bane +Poisons no more the pleasure it bestows: _130 +All bitterness is past; the cup of joy +Unmingled mantles to the goblet’s brim, +And courts the thirsty lips it fled before. + +‘But chief, ambiguous Man, he that can know +More misery, and dream more joy than all; _135 +Whose keen sensations thrill within his breast +To mingle with a loftier instinct there, +Lending their power to pleasure and to pain, +Yet raising, sharpening, and refining each; +Who stands amid the ever-varying world, _140 +The burthen or the glory of the earth; +He chief perceives the change, his being notes +The gradual renovation, and defines +Each movement of its progress on his mind. + +‘Man, where the gloom of the long polar night _145 +Lowers o’er the snow-clad rocks and frozen soil, +Where scarce the hardiest herb that braves the frost +Basks in the moonlight’s ineffectual glow, +Shrank with the plants, and darkened with the night; +His chilled and narrow energies, his heart, _150 +Insensible to courage, truth, or love, +His stunted stature and imbecile frame, +Marked him for some abortion of the earth, +Fit compeer of the bears that roamed around, +Whose habits and enjoyments were his own: _155 +His life a feverish dream of stagnant woe, +Whose meagre wants, but scantily fulfilled, +Apprised him ever of the joyless length +Which his short being’s wretchedness had reached; +His death a pang which famine, cold and toil _160 +Long on the mind, whilst yet the vital spark +Clung to the body stubbornly, had brought: +All was inflicted here that Earth’s revenge +Could wreak on the infringers of her law; +One curse alone was spared—the name of God. _165 + +‘Nor where the tropics bound the realms of day +With a broad belt of mingling cloud and flame, +Where blue mists through the unmoving atmosphere +Scattered the seeds of pestilence, and fed +Unnatural vegetation, where the land _170 +Teemed with all earthquake, tempest and disease, +Was Man a nobler being; slavery +Had crushed him to his country’s bloodstained dust; +Or he was bartered for the fame of power, +Which all internal impulses destroying, _175 +Makes human will an article of trade; +Or he was changed with Christians for their gold, +And dragged to distant isles, where to the sound +Of the flesh-mangling scourge, he does the work +Of all-polluting luxury and wealth, _180 +Which doubly visits on the tyrants’ heads +The long-protracted fulness of their woe; +Or he was led to legal butchery, +To turn to worms beneath that burning sun, +Where kings first leagued against the rights of men, _185 +And priests first traded with the name of God. + +‘Even where the milder zone afforded Man +A seeming shelter, yet contagion there, +Blighting his being with unnumbered ills, +Spread like a quenchless fire; nor truth till late _190 +Availed to arrest its progress, or create +That peace which first in bloodless victory waved +Her snowy standard o’er this favoured clime: +There man was long the train-bearer of slaves, +The mimic of surrounding misery, _195 +The jackal of ambition’s lion-rage, +The bloodhound of religion’s hungry zeal. +‘Here now the human being stands adorning +This loveliest earth with taintless body and mind; +Blessed from his birth with all bland impulses, _200 +Which gently in his noble bosom wake +All kindly passions and all pure desires. +Him, still from hope to hope the bliss pursuing +Which from the exhaustless lore of human weal +Dawns on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that rise _205 +In time-destroying infiniteness, gift +With self-enshrined eternity, that mocks +The unprevailing hoariness of age, +And man, once fleeting o’er the transient scene +Swift as an unremembered vision, stands _210 +Immortal upon earth: no longer now +He slays the lamb that looks him in the face, +And horribly devours his mangled flesh, +Which, still avenging Nature’s broken law, +Kindled all putrid humours in his frame, _215 +All evil passions, and all vain belief, +Hatred, despair, and loathing in his mind, +The germs of misery, death, disease, and crime. +No longer now the winged habitants, +That in the woods their sweet lives sing away,— _220 +Flee from the form of man; but gather round, +And prune their sunny feathers on the hands +Which little children stretch in friendly sport +Towards these dreadless partners of their play. +All things are void of terror: Man has lost _225 +His terrible prerogative, and stands +An equal amidst equals: happiness +And science dawn though late upon the earth; +Peace cheers the mind, health renovates the frame; +Disease and pleasure cease to mingle here, _230 +Reason and passion cease to combat there; +Whilst each unfettered o’er the earth extend +Their all-subduing energies, and wield +The sceptre of a vast dominion there; +Whilst every shape and mode of matter lends _235 +Its force to the omnipotence of mind, +Which from its dark mine drags the gem of truth +To decorate its Paradise of peace.’ + +NOTES: +_204 exhaustless store edition 1813. +_205 Draws edition 1813. See Editor’s Note. + +9. + +‘O happy Earth! reality of Heaven! +To which those restless souls that ceaselessly +Throng through the human universe, aspire; +Thou consummation of all mortal hope! +Thou glorious prize of blindly-working will! _5 +Whose rays, diffused throughout all space and time, +Verge to one point and blend for ever there: +Of purest spirits thou pure dwelling-place! +Where care and sorrow, impotence and crime, +Languor, disease, and ignorance dare not come: _10 +O happy Earth, reality of Heaven! + +‘Genius has seen thee in her passionate dreams, +And dim forebodings of thy loveliness +Haunting the human heart, have there entwined +Those rooted hopes of some sweet place of bliss _15 +Where friends and lovers meet to part no more. +Thou art the end of all desire and will, +The product of all action; and the souls +That by the paths of an aspiring change +Have reached thy haven of perpetual peace, _20 +There rest from the eternity of toil +That framed the fabric of thy perfectness. + +‘Even Time, the conqueror, fled thee in his fear; +That hoary giant, who, in lonely pride, +So long had ruled the world, that nations fell _25 +Beneath his silent footstep. Pyramids, +That for millenniums had withstood the tide +Of human things, his storm-breath drove in sand +Across that desert where their stones survived +The name of him whose pride had heaped them there. _30 +Yon monarch, in his solitary pomp, +Was but the mushroom of a summer day, +That his light-winged footstep pressed to dust: +Time was the king of earth: all things gave way +Before him, but the fixed and virtuous will, _35 +The sacred sympathies of soul and sense, +That mocked his fury and prepared his fall. + +‘Yet slow and gradual dawned the morn of love; +Long lay the clouds of darkness o’er the scene, +Till from its native Heaven they rolled away: _40 +First, Crime triumphant o’er all hope careered +Unblushing, undisguising, bold and strong; +Whilst Falsehood, tricked in Virtue’s attributes, +Long sanctified all deeds of vice and woe, +Till done by her own venomous sting to death, _45 +She left the moral world without a law, +No longer fettering Passion’s fearless wing,— +Nor searing Reason with the brand of God. +Then steadily the happy ferment worked; +Reason was free; and wild though Passion went _50 +Through tangled glens and wood-embosomed meads, +Gathering a garland of the strangest flowers, +Yet like the bee returning to her queen, +She bound the sweetest on her sister’s brow, +Who meek and sober kissed the sportive child, _55 +No longer trembling at the broken rod. + +‘Mild was the slow necessity of death: +The tranquil spirit failed beneath its grasp, +Without a groan, almost without a fear, +Calm as a voyager to some distant land, _60 +And full of wonder, full of hope as he. +The deadly germs of languor and disease +Died in the human frame, and Purity +Blessed with all gifts her earthly worshippers. +How vigorous then the athletic form of age! _65 +How clear its open and unwrinkled brow! +Where neither avarice, cunning, pride, nor care, +Had stamped the seal of gray deformity +On all the mingling lineaments of time. +How lovely the intrepid front of youth! _70 +Which meek-eyed courage decked with freshest grace;— +Courage of soul, that dreaded not a name, +And elevated will, that journeyed on +Through life’s phantasmal scene in fearlessness, +With virtue, love, and pleasure, hand in hand. _75 + +‘Then, that sweet bondage which is Freedom’s self, +And rivets with sensation’s softest tie +The kindred sympathies of human souls, +Needed no fetters of tyrannic law: +Those delicate and timid impulses _80 +In Nature’s primal modesty arose, +And with undoubted confidence disclosed +The growing longings of its dawning love, +Unchecked by dull and selfish chastity, +That virtue of the cheaply virtuous, _85 +Who pride themselves in senselessness and frost. +No longer prostitution’s venomed bane +Poisoned the springs of happiness and life; +Woman and man, in confidence and love, +Equal and free and pure together trod _90 +The mountain-paths of virtue, which no more +Were stained with blood from many a pilgrim’s feet. + +‘Then, where, through distant ages, long in pride +The palace of the monarch-slave had mocked +Famine’s faint groan, and Penury’s silent tear, _95 +A heap of crumbling ruins stood, and threw +Year after year their stones upon the field, +Wakening a lonely echo; and the leaves +Of the old thorn, that on the topmost tower +Usurped the royal ensign’s grandeur, shook _100 +In the stern storm that swayed the topmost tower +And whispered strange tales in the Whirlwind’s ear. +‘Low through the lone cathedral’s roofless aisles +The melancholy winds a death-dirge sung: +It were a sight of awfulness to see _105 +The works of faith and slavery, so vast, +So sumptuous, yet so perishing withal! +Even as the corpse that rests beneath its wall. +A thousand mourners deck the pomp of death +To-day, the breathing marble glows above _110 +To decorate its memory, and tongues +Are busy of its life: to-morrow, worms +In silence and in darkness seize their prey. + +‘Within the massy prison’s mouldering courts, +Fearless and free the ruddy children played, _115 +Weaving gay chaplets for their innocent brows +With the green ivy and the red wallflower, +That mock the dungeon’s unavailing gloom; +The ponderous chains, and gratings of strong iron, +There rusted amid heaps of broken stone _120 +That mingled slowly with their native earth: +There the broad beam of day, which feebly once +Lighted the cheek of lean Captivity +With a pale and sickly glare, then freely shone +On the pure smiles of infant playfulness: _125 +No more the shuddering voice of hoarse Despair +Pealed through the echoing vaults, but soothing notes +Of ivy-fingered winds and gladsome birds +And merriment were resonant around. + +‘These ruins soon left not a wreck behind: _130 +Their elements, wide scattered o’er the globe, +To happier shapes were moulded, and became +Ministrant to all blissful impulses: +Thus human things were perfected, and earth, +Even as a child beneath its mother’s love, _135 +Was strengthened in all excellence, and grew +Fairer and nobler with each passing year. + +‘Now Time his dusky pennons o’er the scene +Closes in steadfast darkness, and the past +Fades from our charmed sight. My task is done: _140 +Thy lore is learned. Earth’s wonders are thine own, +With all the fear and all the hope they bring. +My spells are passed: the present now recurs. +Ah me! a pathless wilderness remains +Yet unsubdued by man’s reclaiming hand. _145 + +‘Yet, human Spirit, bravely hold thy course, +Let virtue teach thee firmly to pursue +The gradual paths of an aspiring change: +For birth and life and death, and that strange state +Before the naked soul has found its home, _150 +All tend to perfect happiness, and urge +The restless wheels of being on their way, +Whose flashing spokes, instinct with infinite life, +Bicker and burn to gain their destined goal: +For birth but wakes the spirit to the sense _155 +Of outward shows, whose unexperienced shape +New modes of passion to its frame may lend; +Life is its state of action, and the store +Of all events is aggregated there +That variegate the eternal universe; _160 +Death is a gate of dreariness and gloom, +That leads to azure isles and beaming skies +And happy regions of eternal hope. +Therefore, O Spirit! fearlessly bear on: +Though storms may break the primrose on its stalk, _165 +Though frosts may blight the freshness of its bloom, +Yet Spring’s awakening breath will woo the earth, +To feed with kindliest dews its favourite flower, +That blooms in mossy banks and darksome glens, +Lighting the greenwood with its sunny smile. _170 + +‘Fear not then, Spirit, Death’s disrobing hand, +So welcome when the tyrant is awake, +So welcome when the bigot’s hell-torch burns; +’Tis but the voyage of a darksome hour, +The transient gulf-dream of a startling sleep. _175 +Death is no foe to Virtue: earth has seen +Love’s brightest roses on the scaffold bloom, +Mingling with Freedom’s fadeless laurels there, +And presaging the truth of visioned bliss. +Are there not hopes within thee, which this scene _180 +Of linked and gradual being has confirmed? +Whose stingings bade thy heart look further still, +When, to the moonlight walk by Henry led, +Sweetly and sadly thou didst talk of death? +And wilt thou rudely tear them from thy breast, _185 +Listening supinely to a bigot’s creed, +Or tamely crouching to the tyrant’s rod, +Whose iron thongs are red with human gore? +Never: but bravely bearing on, thy will +Is destined an eternal war to wage _190 +With tyranny and falsehood, and uproot +The germs of misery from the human heart. +Thine is the hand whose piety would soothe +The thorny pillow of unhappy crime, +Whose impotence an easy pardon gains, _195 +Watching its wanderings as a friend’s disease: +Thine is the brow whose mildness would defy +Its fiercest rage, and brave its sternest will, +When fenced by power and master of the world. +Thou art sincere and good; of resolute mind, _200 +Free from heart-withering custom’s cold control, +Of passion lofty, pure and unsubdued. +Earth’s pride and meanness could not vanquish thee, +And therefore art thou worthy of the boon +Which thou hast now received: Virtue shall keep _205 +Thy footsteps in the path that thou hast trod, +And many days of beaming hope shall bless +Thy spotless life of sweet and sacred love. +Go, happy one, and give that bosom joy +Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch _210 +Light, life and rapture from thy smile.’ + +The Fairy waves her wand of charm. +Speechless with bliss the Spirit mounts the car, +That rolled beside the battlement, +Bending her beamy eyes in thankfulness. _215 +Again the enchanted steeds were yoked, +Again the burning wheels inflame +The steep descent of Heaven’s untrodden way. +Fast and far the chariot flew: +The vast and fiery globes that rolled _220 +Around the Fairy’s palace-gate +Lessened by slow degrees and soon appeared +Such tiny twinklers as the planet orbs +That there attendant on the solar power +With borrowed light pursued their narrower way. _225 + +Earth floated then below: +The chariot paused a moment there; +The Spirit then descended: +The restless coursers pawed the ungenial soil, +Snuffed the gross air, and then, their errand done, _230 +Unfurled their pinions to the winds of Heaven. + +The Body and the Soul united then, +A gentle start convulsed Ianthe’s frame: +Her veiny eyelids quietly unclosed; +Moveless awhile the dark blue orbs remained: _235 +She looked around in wonder and beheld +Henry, who kneeled in silence by her couch, +Watching her sleep with looks of speechless love, +And the bright beaming stars +That through the casement shone. _240 + +*** + + +NOTES ON QUEEN MAB. + + +SHELLEY’S NOTES. + +1. 242, 243:— + +The sun’s unclouded orb +Rolled through the black concave. + +Beyond our atmosphere the sun would appear a rayless orb of fire in the +midst of a black concave. The equal diffusion of its light on earth is +owing to the refraction of the rays by the atmosphere, and their +reflection from other bodies. Light consists either of vibrations +propagated through a subtle medium, or of numerous minute particles +repelled in all directions from the luminous body. Its velocity greatly +exceeds that of any substance with which we are acquainted: observations +on the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites have demonstrated that light +takes up no more than 8 minutes 7 seconds in passing from the sun to the +earth, a distance of 95,000,000 miles.—Some idea may be gained of the +immense distance of the fixed stars when it is computed that many years +would elapse before light could reach this earth from the nearest of +them; yet in one year light travels 5,422,400,000,000 miles, which is a +distance 5,707,600 times greater than that of the sun from the earth. + +1. 252, 253:— + +Whilst round the chariot’s way +Innumerable systems rolled. + +The plurality of worlds,—the indefinite immensity of the universe, is a +most awful subject of contemplation. He who rightly feels its mystery +and grandeur is in no danger of seduction from the falsehoods of +religious systems, or of deifying the principle of the universe. It is +impossible to believe that the Spirit that pervades this infinite +machine begat a son upon the body of a Jewish woman; or is angered at +the consequences of that necessity, which is a synonym of itself. All +that miserable tale of the Devil, and Eve, and an Intercessor, with the +childish mummeries of the God of the Jews, is irreconcilable with the +knowledge of the stars. The works of His fingers have borne witness +against Him. + +The nearest of the fixed stars is inconceivably distant from the earth, +and they are probably proportionably distant from each other. By a +calculation of the velocity of light, Sirius is supposed to be at least +54,224,000,000,000 miles from the earth. (See Nicholson’s +“Encyclopedia”, article Light.) That which appears only like a thin and +silvery cloud streaking the heaven is in effect composed of innumerable +clusters of suns, each shining with its own light, and illuminating +numbers of planets that revolve around them. Millions and millions of +suns are ranged around us, all attended by innumerable worlds, yet calm, +regular, and harmonious, all keeping the paths of immutable necessity. + +4. 178, 179:— + +These are the hired bravos who defend +The tyrant’s throne. + +To employ murder as a means of justice is an idea which a man of an +enlightened mind will not dwell upon with pleasure. To march forth in +rank and file, and all the pomp of streamers and trumpets, for the +purpose of shooting at our fellow-men as a mark; to inflict upon them +all the variety of wound and anguish; to leave them weltering in their +blood; to wander over the field of desolation, and count the number of +the dying and the dead,—are employments which in thesis we may maintain +to be necessary, but which no good man will contemplate with gratulation +and delight. A battle we suppose is won:—thus truth is established, +thus the cause of justice is confirmed! It surely requires no common +sagacity to discern the connexion between this immense heap of +calamities and the assertion of truth or the maintenance of justice. + +‘Kings, and ministers of state, the real authors of the calamity, sit +unmolested in their cabinet, while those against whom the fury of the +storm is directed are, for the most part, persons who have been +trepanned into the service, or who are dragged unwillingly from their +peaceful homes into the field of battle. A soldier is a man whose +business it is to kill those who never offended him, and who are the +innocent martyrs of other men’s iniquities. Whatever may become of the +abstract question of the justifiableness of war, it seems impossible +that the soldier should not be a depraved and unnatural being. + +To these more serious and momentous considerations it may be proper to +add a recollection of the ridiculousness of the military character. Its +first constituent is obedience: a soldier is, of all descriptions of +men, the most completely a machine; yet his profession inevitably +teaches him something of dogmatism, swaggering, and sell-consequence: he +is like the puppet of a showman, who, at the very time he is made to +strut and swell and display the most farcical airs, we perfectly know +cannot assume the most insignificant gesture, advance either to the +right or the left, but as he is moved by his exhibitor.’—Godwin’s +“Enquirer”, Essay 5. + +I will here subjoin a little poem, so strongly expressive of my +abhorrence of despotism and falsehood, that I fear lest it never again +may be depictured so vividly. This opportunity is perhaps the only one +that ever will occur of rescuing it from oblivion. + +FALSEHOOD AND VICE. + +A DIALOGUE. + +Whilst monarchs laughed upon their thrones +To hear a famished nation’s groans, +And hugged the wealth wrung from the woe +That makes its eyes and veins o’erflow,— +Those thrones, high built upon the heaps +Of bones where frenzied Famine sleeps, +Where Slavery wields her scourge of iron, +Red with mankind’s unheeded gore, +And War’s mad fiends the scene environ, +Mingling with shrieks a drunken roar, +There Vice and Falsehood took their stand, +High raised above the unhappy land. + +FALSEHOOD: +Brother! arise from the dainty fare, +Which thousands have toiled and bled to bestow; +A finer feast for thy hungry ear +Is the news that I bring of human woe. + +VICE: +And, secret one, what hast thou done, +To compare, in thy tumid pride, with me? +I, whose career, through the blasted year, +Has been tracked by despair and agony. + +FALSEHOOD: +What have I done!—I have torn the robe +From baby Truth’s unsheltered form, +And round the desolated globe +Borne safely the bewildering charm: +My tyrant-slaves to a dungeon-floor +Have bound the fearless innocent, +And streams of fertilizing gore +Flow from her bosom’s hideous rent, +Which this unfailing dagger gave... +I dread that blood!—no more—this day +Is ours, though her eternal ray +Must shine upon our grave. +Yet know, proud Vice, had I not given +To thee the robe I stole from Heaven, +Thy shape of ugliness and fear +Had never gained admission here. + +VICE: +And know, that had I disdained to toil, +But sate in my loathsome cave the while, +And ne’er to these hateful sons of Heaven, +GOLD, MONARCHY, and MURDER, given; +Hadst thou with all thine art essayed +One of thy games then to have played, +With all thine overweening boast, +Falsehood! I tell thee thou hadst lost!— +Yet wherefore this dispute?—we tend, +Fraternal, to one common end; +In this cold grave beneath my feet, +Will our hopes, our fears, and our labours, meet. + +FALSEHOOD: +I brought my daughter, RELIGION, on earth: +She smothered Reason’s babes in their birth; +But dreaded their mother’s eye severe,— +So the crocodile slunk off slily in fear, +And loosed her bloodhounds from the den.... +They started from dreams of slaughtered men, +And, by the light of her poison eye, +Did her work o’er the wide earth frightfully: +The dreadful stench of her torches’ flare, +Fed with human fat, polluted the air: +The curses, the shrieks, the ceaseless cries +Of the many-mingling miseries, +As on she trod, ascended high +And trumpeted my victory!— +Brother, tell what thou hast done. + +VICE: +I have extinguished the noonday sun, +In the carnage-smoke of battles won: +Famine, Murder, Hell and Power +Were glutted in that glorious hour +Which searchless fate had stamped for me +With the seal of her security... +For the bloated wretch on yonder throne +Commanded the bloody fray to rise. +Like me he joyed at the stifled moan +Wrung from a nation’s miseries; +While the snakes, whose slime even him DEFILED, +In ecstasies of malice smiled: +They thought ’twas theirs,—but mine the deed! +Theirs is the toil, but mine the meed— +Ten thousand victims madly bleed. +They dream that tyrants goad them there +With poisonous war to taint the air: +These tyrants, on their beds of thorn, +Swell with the thoughts of murderous fame, +And with their gains to lift my name +Restless they plan from night to morn: +I—I do all; without my aid +Thy daughter, that relentless maid, +Could never o’er a death-bed urge +The fury of her venomed scourge. + +FALSEHOOD: +Brother, well:—the world is ours; +And whether thou or I have won, +The pestilence expectant lowers +On all beneath yon blasted sun. +Our joys, our toils, our honours meet +In the milk-white and wormy winding-sheet: +A short-lived hope, unceasing care, +Some heartless scraps of godly prayer, +A moody curse, and a frenzied sleep +Ere gapes the grave’s unclosing deep, +A tyrant’s dream, a coward’s start, +The ice that clings to a priestly heart, +A judge’s frown, a courtier’s smile, +Make the great whole for which we toil; +And, brother, whether thou or I +Have done the work of misery, +It little boots: thy toil and pain, +Without my aid, were more than vain; +And but for thee I ne’er had sate +The guardian of Heaven’s palace gate. + +5. 1, 2:— + +Thus do the generations of the earth +Go to the grave, and issue from the womb. + +‘One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but the +earth abideth for ever. The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, +and hasteth to his place where he arose. The wind goeth toward the +south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, +and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. All the rivers +run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence +the rivers come, thither they return again.’—Ecclesiastes, chapter 1 +verses 4-7. + +5. 4-6. + +Even as the leaves +Which the keen frost-wind of the waning year +Has scattered on the forest soil. + +Oin per phullon genee, toiede kai andron. +Phulla ta men t’ anemos chamadis cheei, alla de th’ ule +Telethoosa phuei, earos d’ epigignetai ore. +Os andron genee, e men phuei, e d’ apolegei. + +Iliad Z, line 146. + +5. 58:— +The mob of peasants, nobles, priests, and kings. + +Suave mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis +E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem; +Non quia vexari quemquam est iucunda voluptas, +Sed quibus ipse malis careas quia cernere suave est. +Suave etiam belli certamina magna tueri +Per campos instructa, tua sine parte pericli; +Sed nil dulcius est bene quam munita tenere +Edita doctrina sapientum templa serena, +Despicere undo queas alios, passimque videre +Errare atque viam palantis quaerere vitae; +Certare ingenio; contendere nobilitate; +Noctes atque dies niti praestante labore +Ad summas emergere opes, rerumque potiri. +O miseras hominum mentes! O pectora caeca! + +Lucret. lib. 2. + +5. 93, 94. + +And statesmen boast +Of wealth! + +There is no real wealth but the labour of man. Were the mountains of +gold and the valleys of silver, the world would not be one grain of corn +the richer; no one comfort would be added to the human race. In +consequence of our consideration for the precious metals, one man is +enabled to heap to himself luxuries at the expense of the necessaries of +his neighbour; a system admirably fitted to produce all the varieties of +disease and crime, which never fail to characterize the two extremes of +opulence and penury. A speculator takes pride to himself as the promoter +of his country’s prosperity, who employs a number of hands in the +manufacture of articles avowedly destitute of use, or subservient only +to the unhallowed cravings of luxury and ostentation. The nobleman, who +employs the peasants of his neighbourhood in building his palaces, until +‘jam pauca aratro jugera regiae moles relinquunt,’ flatters himself that +he has gained the title of a patriot by yielding to the impulses of +vanity. The show and pomp of courts adduce the same apology for its +continuance; and many a fete has been given, many a woman has eclipsed +her beauty by her dress, to benefit the labouring poor and to encourage +trade. Who does not see that this is a remedy which aggravates whilst it +palliates the countless diseases of society? The poor are set to +labour,—for what? Not the food for which they famish: not the blankets +for want of which their babes are frozen by the cold of their miserable +hovels: not those comforts of civilization without which civilized man +is far more miserable than the meanest savage; oppressed as he is by all +its insidious evils, within the daily and taunting prospect of its +innumerable benefits assiduously exhibited before him:—no; for the +pride of power, for the miserable isolation of pride, for the false +pleasures of the hundredth part of society. No greater evidence is +afforded of the wide extended and radical mistakes of civilized man than +this fact: those arts which are essential to his very being are held in +the greatest contempt; employments are lucrative in an inverse ratio to +their usefulness (See Rousseau, “De l’Inegalite parmi les Hommes”, note +7.): the jeweller, the toyman, the actor gains fame and wealth by the +exercise of his useless and ridiculous art; whilst the cultivator of the +earth, he without whom society must cease to subsist, struggles through +contempt and penury, and perishes by that famine which but for his +unceasing exertions would annihilate the rest of mankind. + +I will not insult common sense by insisting on the doctrine of the +natural equality of man. The question is not concerning its +desirableness, but its practicability: so far as it is practicable, it +is desirable. That state of human society which approaches nearer to an +equal partition of its benefits and evils should, caeteris paribus, be +preferred: but so long as we conceive that a wanton expenditure of human +labour, not for the necessities, not even for the luxuries of the mass +of society, but for the egotism and ostentation of a few of its members, +is defensible on the ground of public justice, so long we neglect to +approximate to the redemption of the human race. + +Labour is required for physical, and leisure for moral improvement: from +the former of these advantages the rich, and from the latter the poor, +by the inevitable conditions of their respective situations, are +precluded. A state which should combine the advantages of both would be +subjected to the evils of neither. He that is deficient in firm health, +or vigorous intellect, is but half a man: hence it follows that to +subject the labouring classes to unnecessary labour is wantonly +depriving them of any opportunities of intellectual improvement; and +that the rich are heaping up for their own mischief the disease, +lassitude, and ennui by which their existence is rendered an intolerable +burthen. + +English reformers exclaim against sinecures,—but the true pension list +is the rent-roll of the landed proprietors: wealth is a power usurped by +the few, to compel the many to labour for their benefit. The laws which +support this system derive their force from the ignorance and credulity +of its victims: they are the result of a conspiracy of the few against +the many, who are themselves obliged to purchase this pre-eminence by +the loss of all real comfort. + +‘The commodities that substantially contribute to the subsistence of the +human species form a very short catalogue: they demand from us but a +slender portion of industry. If these only were produced, and +sufficiently produced, the species of man would be continued. If the +labour necessarily required to produce them were equitably divided among +the poor, and, still more, if it were equitably divided among all, each +man’s share of labour would be light, and his portion of leisure would +be ample. There was a time when this leisure would have been of small +comparative value: it is to be hoped that the time will come when it +will be applied to the most important purposes. Those hours which are +not required for the production of the necessaries of life may be +devoted to the cultivation of the understanding, the enlarging our stock +of knowledge, the refining our taste, and thus opening to us new and +more exquisite sources of enjoyment. + +... + +‘It was perhaps necessary that a period of monopoly and oppression +should subsist, before a period of cultivated equality could subsist. +Savages perhaps would never have been excited to the discovery of truth +and the invention of art but by the narrow motives which such a period +affords. But surely, after the savage state has ceased, and men have set +out in the glorious career of discovery and invention, monopoly and +oppression cannot be necessary to prevent them from returning to a state +of barbarism.’—Godwin’s “Enquirer”, Essay 2. See also “Pol. Jus.”, book +8, chapter 2. + +It is a calculation of this admirable author, that all the conveniences +of civilized life might be produced, if society would divide the labour +equally among its members, by each individual being employed in labour +two hours during the day. + +5. 112, 113:— + +or religion +Drives his wife raving mad. + +I am acquainted with a lady of considerable accomplishments, and the +mother of a numerous family, whom the Christian religion has goaded to +incurable insanity. A parallel case is, I believe, within the experience +of every physician. + +Nam iam saepe homines patriam, carosquo parentes +Prodiderunt, vitare Acherusia templa petentes.—Lucretius. + +5. 189:— + +Even love is sold. + +Not even the intercourse of the sexes is exempt from the despotism of +positive institution. Law pretends even to govern the indisciplinable +wanderings of passion, to put fetters on the clearest deductions of +reason, and, by appeals to the will, to subdue the involuntary +affections of our nature. Love is inevitably consequent upon the +perception of loveliness. Love withers under constraint: its very +essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, +nor fear: it is there most pure, perfect, and unlimited, where its +votaries live in confidence, equality, and unreserve. + +How long then ought the sexual connection to last? what law ought to +specify the extent of the grievances which should limit its duration? A +husband and wife ought to continue so long united as they love each +other: any law which should bind them to cohabitation for one moment +after the decay of their affection would be a most intolerable tyranny, +and the most unworthy of toleration. How odious an usurpation of the +right of private judgement should that law be considered which should +make the ties of friendship indissoluble, in spite of the caprices, the +inconstancy, the fallibility, and capacity for improvement of the human +mind. And by so much would the fetters of love be heavier and more +unendurable than those of friendship, as love is more vehement and +capricious, more dependent on those delicate peculiarities of +imagination, and less capable of reduction to the ostensible merits of +the object. + +The state of society in which we exist is a mixture of feudal savageness +and imperfect civilization. The narrow and unenlightened morality of the +Christian religion is an aggravation of these evils. It is not even +until lately that mankind have admitted that happiness is the sole end +of the science of ethics, as of all other sciences; and that the +fanatical idea of mortifying the flesh for the love of God has been +discarded. I have heard, indeed, an ignorant collegian adduce, in favour +of Christianity, its hostility to every worldly feeling! (The first +Christian emperor made a law by which seduction was punished with death; +if the female pleaded her own consent, she also was punished with death; +if the parents endeavoured to screen the criminals, they were banished +and their estates were confiscated; the slaves who might be accessory +were burned alive, or forced to swallow melted lead. The very offspring +of an illegal love were involved in the consequences of the +sentence.—Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall”, etc., volume 2, page 210. See +also, for the hatred of the primitive Christians to love and even +marriage, page 269.) + +But if happiness be the object of morality, of all human unions and +disunions; if the worthiness of every action is to be estimated by the +quantity of pleasurable sensation it is calculated to produce, then the +connection of the sexes is so long sacred as it contributes to the +comfort of the parties, and is naturally dissolved when its evils are +greater than its benefits. There is nothing immoral in this separation. +Constancy has nothing virtuous in itself, independently of the pleasure +it confers, and partakes of the temporizing spirit of vice in proportion +as it endures tamely moral defects of magnitude in the object of its +indiscreet choice. Love is free: to promise for ever to love the same +woman is not less absurd than to promise to believe the same creed: such +a vow, in both cases, excludes us from all inquiry. The language of the +votarist is this: The woman I now love may be infinitely inferior to +many others; the creed I now profess may be a mass of errors and +absurdities; but I exclude myself from all future information as to the +amiability of the one and the truth of the other, resolving blindly, and +in spite of conviction, to adhere to them. Is this the language of +delicacy and reason? Is the love of such a frigid heart of more worth +than its belief? + +The present system of constraint does no more, in the majority of +instances, than make hypocrites or open enemies. Persons of delicacy and +virtue, unhappily united to one whom they find it impossible to love, +spend the loveliest season of their life in unproductive efforts to +appear otherwise than they are, for the sake of the feelings of their +partner or the welfare of their mutual offspring: those of less +generosity and refinement openly avow their disappointment, and linger +out the remnant of that union, which only death can dissolve, in a state +of incurable bickering and hostility. The early education of their +children takes its colour from the squabbles of the parents; they are +nursed in a systematic school of ill-humour, violence, and falsehood. +Had they been suffered to part at the moment when indifference rendered +their union irksome, they would have been spared many years of misery: +they would have connected themselves more suitably, and would have found +that happiness in the society of more congenial partners which is for +ever denied them by the despotism of marriage. They would have been +separately useful and happy members of society, who, whilst united, were +miserable and rendered misanthropical by misery. The conviction that +wedlock is indissoluble holds out the strongest of all temptations to +the perverse: they indulge without restraint in acrimony, and all the +little tyrannies of domestic life, when they know that their victim is +without appeal. If this connection were put on a rational basis, each +would be assured that habitual ill-temper would terminate in separation, +and would check this vicious and dangerous propensity. + +Prostitution is the legitimate offspring of marriage and its +accompanying errors. Women, for no other crime than having followed the +dictates of a natural appetite, are driven with fury from the comforts +and sympathies of society. It is less venial than murder; and the +punishment which is inflicted on her who destroys her child to escape +reproach is lighter than the life of agony and disease to which the +prostitute is irrecoverably doomed. Has a woman obeyed the impulse of +unerring nature;—society declares war against her, pitiless and eternal +war: she must be the tame slave, she must make no reprisals; theirs is +the right of persecution, hers the duty of endurance. She lives a life +of infamy: the loud and bitter laugh of scorn scares her from all +return. She dies of long and lingering disease: yet SHE is in fault, SHE +is the criminal, SHE the froward and untamable child,—and society, +forsooth, the pure and virtuous matron, who casts her as an abortion +from her undefiled bosom! Society avenges herself on the criminals of +her own creation; she is employed in anathematizing the vice to-day, +which yesterday she was the most zealous to teach. Thus is formed +one-tenth of the population of London: meanwhile the evil is twofold. +Young men, excluded by the fanatical idea of chastity from the society +of modest and accomplished women, associate with these vicious and +miserable beings, destroying thereby all those exquisite and delicate +sensibilities whose existence cold-hearted worldlings have denied; +annihilating all genuine passion, and debasing that to a selfish feeling +which is the excess of generosity and devotedness. Their body and mind +alike crumble into a hideous wreck of humanity; idiocy and disease +become perpetuated in their miserable offspring, and distant generations +suffer for the bigoted morality of their forefathers. Chastity is a +monkish and evangelical superstition, a greater foe to natural +temperance even than unintellectual sensuality; it strikes at the root +of all domestic happiness, and consigns more than half of the human race +to misery, that some few may monopolize according to law. A system could +not well have been devised more studiously hostile to human happiness +than marriage. + +I conceive that from the abolition of marriage, the fit and natural +arrangement of sexual connection would result. I by no means assert that +the intercourse would be promiscuous: on the contrary, it appears, from +the relation of parent to child, that this union is generally of long +duration, and marked above all others with generosity and self-devotion. +But this is a subject which it is perhaps premature to discuss. That +which will result from the abolition of marriage will be natural and +right; because choice and change will be exempted from restraint. + +In fact, religion and morality, as they now stand, compose a practical +code of misery and servitude: the genius of human happiness must tear +every leaf from the accursed book of God ere man can read the +inscription on his heart. How would morality, dressed up in stiff stays +and finery, start from her own disgusting image should she look in the +mirror of nature!— + +6. 45, 46:— + +To the red and baleful sun +That faintly twinkles there. + +The north polar star, to which the axis of the earth, in its present +state of obliquity, points. It is exceedingly probable, from many +considerations, that this obliquity will gradually diminish, until the +equator coincides with the ecliptic: the nights and days will then +become equal on the earth throughout the year, and probably the seasons +also. There is no great extravagance in presuming that the progress of +the perpendicularity of the poles may be as rapid as the progress of +intellect; or that there should be a perfect identity between the moral +and physical improvement of the human species. It is certain that wisdom +is not compatible with disease, and that, in the present state of the +climates of the earth, health, in the true and comprehensive sense of +the word, is out of the reach of civilized man. Astronomy teaches us +that the earth is now in its progress, and that the poles are every year +becoming more and more perpendicular to the ecliptic. The strong +evidence afforded by the history of mythology, and geological +researches, that some event of this nature has taken place already, +affords a strong presumption that this progress is not merely an +oscillation, as has been surmised by some late astronomers. (Laplace, +“Systeme du Monde”.) + +Bones of animals peculiar to the torrid zone have been found in the +north of Siberia, and on the banks of the river Ohio. Plants have been +found in the fossil state in the interior of Germany, which demand the +present climate of Hindostan for their production. (Cabanis, “Rapports +du Physique et du Moral de l’Homme”, volume 2 page 406.) The researches +of M. Bailly establish the existence of a people who inhabited a tract +in Tartary 49 degrees north latitude, of greater antiquity than either +the Indians, the Chinese, or the Chaldeans, from whom these nations +derived their sciences and theology. (Bailly, “Lettres sur les Sciences, +a Voltaire”.) We find, from the testimony of ancient writers, that +Britain, Germany, and France were much colder than at present, and that +their great rivers were annually frozen over. Astronomy teaches us also +that since this period the obliquity of the earth’s position has been +considerably diminished. + +6. 171-173:— + +No atom of this turbulence fulfils +A vague and unnecessitated task, +Or acts but as it must and ought to act. + +‘Deux examples serviront a nous rendre plus sensible le principe qui +vient d’etre pose; nous emprunterons l’un du physique at l’autre du +moral. Dans un tourbillon de poussiere qu’eleve un vent impetueux, +quelque confus qu’il paraisse a nos yeux; dans la plus affreuse tempete +excitee par des vents opposes qui soulevent les flots,—il n’y a pas une +seule molecule de poussiere ou d’eau qui soit placee au HASARD, qui +n’ait sa cause suffisante pour occuper le lieu ou elle se trouve, et qui +n’agisse rigoureusement de la maniere dont ella doit agir. Un geometre +qui connaitrait exactement les differentes forces qui agissent dans ces +deux cas, at las proprietes des molecules qui sent mues, demontrerait +que d’apres des causes donnees, chaque molecule agit precisement comme +ella doit agir, et ne peut agir autrement qu’elle ne fait. + +‘Dans les convulsions terribles qui agitent quelquefois les societes +politiques, et qui produisent souvent le renversement d’un empire, il +n’y a pas une seule action, une seule parole, une seule pensee, une +seule volonte, une seule passion dans las agens qui concourent a la +revolution comme destructeurs ou comme victimes, qui ne soit necessaire, +qui n’agissa comme ella doit agir, qui n’opere infailliblemont les +effets qu’eile doit operer, suivant la place qu’occupent ces agens dana +ce tourbillon moral. Cela paraitrait evident pour une intelligence qui +sera en etat de saisir et d’apprecier toutes las actions at reactions +des esprits at des corps de ceux qui contribuent a cette +revolution.’—“Systeme de la Nature”, volume 1, page 44. + +6. 198:— + +Necessity! thou mother of the world! + +He who asserts the doctrine of Necessity means that, contemplating the +events which compose the moral and material universe, he beholds only an +immense and uninterrupted chain of causes and effects, no one of which +could occupy any other place than it does occupy, or act in any other +place than it does act. The idea of necessity is obtained by our +experience of the connection between objects, the uniformity of the +operations of nature, the constant conjunction of similar events, and +the consequent inference of one from the other. Mankind are therefore +agreed in the admission of necessity, if they admit that these two +circumstances take place in voluntary action. Motive is to voluntary +action in the human mind what cause is to effect in the material +universe. The word liberty, as applied to mind, is analogous to the word +chance as applied to matter: they spring from an ignorance of the +certainty of the conjunction of antecedents and consequents. + +Every human being is irresistibly impelled to act precisely as he does +act: in the eternity which preceded his birth a chain of causes was +generated, which, operating under the name of motives, make it +impossible that any thought of his mind, or any action of his life, +should be otherwise than it is. Were the doctrine of Necessity false, +the human mind would no longer be a legitimate object of science; from +like causes it would be in vain that we should expect like effects; the +strongest motive would no longer be paramount over the conduct; all +knowledge would be vague and undeterminate; we could not predict with +any certainty that we might not meet as an enemy to-morrow him with whom +we have parted in friendship to-night; the most probable inducements and +the clearest reasonings would lose the invariable influence they +possess. The contrary of this is demonstrably the fact. Similar +circumstances produce the same unvariable effects. The precise character +and motives of any man on any occasion being given, the moral +philosopher could predict his actions with as much certainty as the +natural philosopher could predict the effects of the mixture of any +particular chemical substances. Why is the aged husbandman more +experienced than the young beginner? Because there is a uniform, +undeniable necessity in the operations of the material universe. Why is +the old statesman more skilful than the raw politician) Because, relying +on the necessary conjunction of motive and action, he proceeds to +produce moral effects, by the application of those moral causes which +experience has shown to be effectual. Some actions may be found to which +we can attach no motives, but these are the effects of causes with which +we are unacquainted. Hence the relation which motive bears to voluntary +action is that of cause to effect; nor, placed in this point of view, is +it, or ever has it been, the subject of popular or philosophical +dispute. None but the few fanatics who are engaged in the herculean task +of reconciling the justice of their God with the misery of man, will +longer outrage common sense by the supposition of an event without a +cause, a voluntary action without a motive. History, politics, morals, +criticism, all grounds of reasonings, all principles of science, alike +assume the truth of the doctrine of Necessity. No farmer carrying his +corn to market doubts the sale of it at the market price. The master of +a manufactory no more doubts that he can purchase the human labour +necessary for his purposes than that his machinery will act as they have +been accustomed to act. + +But, whilst none have scrupled to admit necessity as influencing matter, +many have disputed its dominion over mind. Independently of its +militating with the received ideas of the justice of God, it is by no +means obvious to a superficial inquiry. When the mind observes its own +operations, it feels no connection of motive and action: but as we know +‘nothing more of causation than the constant conjunction of objects and +the consequent inference of one from the other, as we find that these +two circumstances are universally allowed to have place in voluntary +action, we may be easily led to own that they are subjected to the +necessity common to all causes.’ The actions of the will have a regular +conjunction with circumstances and characters; motive is to voluntary +action what cause is to effect. But the only idea we can form of +causation is a constant conjunction of similar objects, and the +consequent inference of one from the other: wherever this is the case +necessity is clearly established. + +The idea of liberty, applied metaphorically to the will, has sprung from +a misconception of the meaning of the word power. What is power?—id +quod potest, that which can produce any given effect. To deny power is +to say that nothing can or has the power to be or act. In the only true +sense of the word power, it applies with equal force to the lodestone as +to the human will. Do you think these motives, which I shall present, +are powerful enough to rouse him? is a question just as common as, Do +you think this lever has the power of raising this weight? The advocates +of free-will assert that the will has the power of refusing to be +determined by the strongest motive; but the strongest motive is that +which, overcoming all others, ultimately prevails; this assertion +therefore amounts to a denial of the will being ultimately determined by +that motive which does determine it, which is absurd. But it is equally +certain that a man cannot resist the strongest motive as that he cannot +overcome a physical impossibility. + +The doctrine of Necessity tends to introduce a great change into the +established notions of morality, and utterly to destroy religion. Reward +and punishment must be considered, by the Necessarian, merely as motives +which he would employ in order to procure the adoption or abandonment of +any given line of conduct. Desert, in the present sense of the word, +would no longer have any meaning; and he who should inflict pain upon +another for no better reason than that he deserved it, would only +gratify his revenge under pretence of satisfying justice? It is not +enough, says the advocate of free-will, that a criminal should be +prevented from a repetition of his crime: he should feel pain, and his +torments, when justly inflicted, ought precisely to be proportioned to +his fault. But utility is morality; that which is incapable of producing +happiness is useless; and though the crime of Damiens must be condemned, +yet the frightful torments which revenge, under the name of justice, +inflicted on this unhappy man cannot be supposed to have augmented, even +at the long run, the stock of pleasurable sensation in the world. At the +same time, the doctrine of Necessity does not in the least diminish our +disapprobation of vice. The conviction which all feel that a viper is a +poisonous animal, and that a tiger is constrained, by the inevitable +condition of his existence, to devour men, does not induce us to avoid +them less sedulously, or, even more, to hesitate in destroying them: but +he would surely be of a hard heart who, meeting with a serpent on a +desert island, or in a situation where it was incapable of injury, +should wantonly deprive it of existence. A Necessarian is inconsequent +to his own principles if he indulges in hatred or contempt; the +compassion which he feels for the criminal is unmixed with a desire of +injuring him: he looks with an elevated and dreadless composure upon the +links of the universal chain as they pass before his eyes; whilst +cowardice, curiosity, and inconsistency only assail him in proportion to +the feebleness and indistinctness with which he has perceived and +rejected the delusions of free-will. + +Religion is the perception of the relation in which we stand to the +principle of the universe. But if the principle of the universe be not +an organic being, the model and prototype of man, the relation between +it and human beings is absolutely none. Without some insight into its +will respecting our actions religion is nugatory and vain. But will is +only a mode of animal mind; moral qualities also are such as only a +human being can possess; to attribute them to the principle of the +universe is to annex to it properties incompatible with any possible +definition of its nature. It is probable that the word God was +originally only an expression denoting the unknown cause of the known +events which men perceived in the universe. By the vulgar mistake of a +metaphor for a real being, of a word for a thing, it became a man, +endowed with human qualities and governing the universe as an earthly +monarch governs his kingdom. Their addresses to this imaginary being, +indeed, are much in the same style as those of subjects to a king. They +acknowledge his benevolence, deprecate his anger, and supplicate his +favour. + +But the doctrine of Necessity teaches us that in no case could any event +have happened otherwise than it did happen, and that, if God is the +author of good, He is also the author of evil; that, if He is entitled +to our gratitude for the one, He is entitled to our hatred for the +other; that, admitting the existence of this hypothetic being, He is +also subjected to the dominion of an immutable necessity. It is plain +that the same arguments which prove that God is the author of food, +light, and life, prove Him also to be the author of poison, darkness, +and death. The wide-wasting earthquake, the storm, the battle, and the +tyranny, are attributable to this hypothetic being in the same degree as +the fairest forms of nature, sunshine, liberty, and peace. + +But we are taught, by the doctrine of Necessity, that there is neither +good nor evil in the universe, otherwise than as the events to which we +apply these epithets have relation to our own peculiar mode of being. +Still less than with the hypothesis of a God will the doctrine of +Necessity accord with the belief of a future state of punishment. God +made man such as he is, and than damned him for being so: for to say +that God was the author of all good, and man the author of all evil, is +to say that one man made a straight line and a crooked one, and another +man made the incongruity. + +A Mahometan story, much to the present purpose, is recorded, wherein +Adam and Moses are introduced disputing before God in the following +manner. Thou, says Moses, art Adam, whom God created, and animated with +the breath of life, and caused to be worshipped by the angels, and +placed in Paradise, from whence mankind have been expelled for thy +fault. Whereto Adam answered, Thou art Moses, whom God chose for His +apostle, and entrusted with His word, by giving thee the tables of the +law, and whom He vouchsafed to admit to discourse with Himself. How many +years dost thou find the law was written before I was created? Says +Moses, Forty. And dost thou not find, replied Adam, these words therein, +And Adam rebelled against his Lord and transgressed? Which Moses +confessing, Dost thou therefore blame me, continued he, for doing that +which God wrote of me that I should do, forty years before I was +created, nay, for what was decreed concerning me fifty thousand years +before the creation of heaven and earth?—Sale’s “Prelim. Disc. to the +Koran”, page 164. + +7. 13:— + +There is no God. + +This negation must be understood solely to affect a creative Deity. The +hypothesis of a pervading Spirit co-eternal with the universe remains +unshaken. + +A close examination of the validity of the proofs adduced to support any +proposition is the only secure way of attaining truth, on the advantages +of which it is unnecessary to descant: our knowledge of the existence of +a Deity is a subject of such importance that it cannot be too minutely +investigated; in consequence of this conviction we proceed briefly and +impartially to examine the proofs which have been adduced. It is +necessary first to consider the nature of belief. + +When a proposition is offered to the mind, it perceives the agreement or +disagreement of the ideas of which it is composed. A perception of their +agreement is termed BELIEF. Many obstacles frequently prevent this +perception from being immediate; these the mind attempts to remove in +order that the perception may be distinct. The mind is active in the +investigation in order to perfect the state of perception of the +relation which the component ideas of the proposition bear to each, +which is passive: the investigation being confused with the perception +has induced many falsely to imagine that the mind is active in +belief,—that belief is an act of volition,—in consequence of which it +may be regulated by the mind. Pursuing, continuing this mistake, they +have attached a degree of criminality to disbelief; of which, in its +nature, it is incapable: it is equally incapable of merit. + +Belief, then, is a passion, the strength of which, like every other +passion, is in precise proportion to the degrees of excitement. + +The degrees of excitement are three. + +The senses are the sources of all knowledge to the mind; consequently +their evidence claims the strongest assent. + +The decision of the mind, founded upon our own experience, derived from +these sources, claims the next degree. + +The experience of others, which addresses itself to the former one, +occupies the lowest degree. + +(A graduated scale, on which should be marked the capabilities of +propositions to approach to the test of the senses, would be a just +barometer of the belief which ought to be attached to them.) + +Consequently no testimony can be admitted which is contrary to reason; +reason is founded on the evidence of our senses. + +Every proof may be referred to one of these three divisions: it is to be +considered what arguments we receive from each of them, which should +convince us of the existence of a Deity. + +1st, The evidence of the senses. If the Deity should appear to us, if He +should convince our senses of His existence, this revelation would +necessarily command belief. Those to whom the Deity has thus appeared +have the strongest possible conviction of His existence. But the God of +Theologians is incapable of local visibility. + +2d, Reason. It is urged that man knows that whatever is must either have +had a beginning, or have existed from all eternity: he also knows that +whatever is not eternal must have had a cause. When this reasoning is +applied to the universe, it is necessary to prove that it was created: +until that is clearly demonstrated we may reasonably suppose that it has +endured from all eternity. We must prove design before we can infer a +designer. The only idea which we can form of causation is derivable from +the constant conjunction of objects, and the consequent inference of one +from the other. In a case where two propositions are diametrically +opposite, the mind believes that which is least incomprehensible;—it is +easier to suppose that the universe has existed from all eternity than +to conceive a being beyond its limits capable of creating it: if the +mind sinks beneath the weight of one, is it an alleviation to increase +the intolerability of the burthen? + +The other argument, which is founded on a man’s knowledge of his own +existence, stands thus. A man knows not only that he now is, but that +once he was not; consequently there must have been a cause. But our idea +of causation is alone derivable from the constant conjunction of objects +and the consequent inference of one from the other; and, reasoning +experimentally, we can only infer from effects causes exactly adequate +to those effects. But there certainly is a generative power which is +effected by certain instruments: we cannot prove that it is inherent in +these instruments; nor is the contrary hypothesis capable of +demonstration: we admit that the generative power is incomprehensible; +but to suppose that the same effect is produced by an eternal, +omniscient, omnipotent being leaves the cause in the same obscurity, but +renders it more incomprehensible. + +3d, Testimony. It is required that testimony should not be contrary to +reason. The testimony that the Deity convinces the senses of men of His +existence can only be admitted by us if our mind considers it less +probable that these men should have been deceived than that the Deity +should have appeared to them. Our reason can never admit the testimony +of men, who not only declare that they were eye-witnesses of miracles, +but that the Deity was irrational; for He commanded that He should be +believed, He proposed the highest rewards for faith, eternal punishments +for disbelief. We can only command voluntary actions; belief is not an +act of volition; the mind is even passive, or involuntarily active; from +this it is evident that we have no sufficient testimony, or rather that +testimony is insufficient to prove the being of a God. It has been +before shown that it cannot be deduced from reason. They alone, then, +who have been convinced by the evidence of the senses can believe it. + +Hence it is evident that, having no proofs from either of the three +sources of conviction, the mind CANNOT believe the existence of a +creative God: it is also evident that, as belief is a passion of the +mind, no degree of criminality is attachable to disbelief; and that they +only are reprehensible who neglect to remove the false medium through +which their mind views any subject of discussion. Every reflecting mind +must acknowledge that there is no proof of the existence of a Deity. + +God is an hypothesis, and, as such, stands in need of proof: the onus +probandi rests on the theist. Sir Isaac Newton says: Hypotheses non +fingo, quicquid enim ex phaenomenis non deducitur hypothesis vocanda +est, et hypothesis vel metaphysicae, vel physicae, vel qualitatum +occultarum, seu mechanicae, in philosophia locum non habent. To all +proofs of the existence of a creative God apply this valuable rule. We +see a variety of bodies possessing a variety of powers: we merely know +their effects; we are in a state of ignorance with respect to their +essences and causes. These Newton calls the phenomena of things; but the +pride of philosophy is unwilling to admit its ignorance of their causes. +From the phenomena, which are the objects of our senses, we attempt to +infer a cause, which we call God, and gratuitously endow it with all +negative and contradictory qualities. From this hypothesis we invent +this general name, to conceal our ignorance of causes and essences. The +being called God by no means answers with the conditions prescribed by +Newton; it bears every mark of a veil woven by philosophical conceit, to +hide the ignorance of philosophers even from themselves. They borrow the +threads of its texture from the anthropomorphism of the vulgar. Words +have been used by sophists for the same purposes, from the occult +qualities of the peripatetics to the effluvium of Boyle and the +crinities or nebulae of Herschel. God is represented as infinite, +eternal, incomprehensible; He is contained under every predicate in non +that the logic of ignorance could fabricate. Even His worshippers allow +that it is impossible to form any idea of Him: they exclaim with the +French poet, + +Pour dire ce qu’il est, il faut etre lui-meme. + +Lord Bacon says that atheism leaves to man reason, philosophy, natural +piety, laws, reputation, and everything that can serve to conduct him to +virtue; but superstition destroys all these, and erects itself into a +tyranny over the understandings of men: hence atheism never disturbs the +government, but renders man more clear-sighted, since he sees nothing +beyond the boundaries of the present life.—Bacon’s “Moral Essays”. + +La premiere theologie de l’homme lui fit d’abord craindre at adorer les +elements meme, des objets materiels at grossiers; il randit ensuite ses +hommages a des agents presidant aux elements, a des genies inferieurs, a +des heros, ou a des hommes doues de grandes qualites. A force de +reflechir il crut simplifier les choses en soumettant la nature entiere +a un seul agent, a un esprit, a una ame universelle, qui mettait cette +nature et ses parties en mouvement. En remontant de causes en causes, +les mortels ont fini par ne rien voir; at c’est dans cette obscurite +qu’ils ont place leur Dieu; c’est dans cat abime tenebreux que leur +imagination inquiete travaille toujours a se fabriquer des chimeres, qui +les affligeront jusqu’a ce que la connaissance da la nature les detrompe +des fantomes qu’ils ont toujours si vainement adores. + +Si nous voulons nous rendre compte de nos idees sur la Divinite, nous +serons obliges de convanir que, par le mot “Dieu”, les hommes n’ont +jamais pu designer que la cause la plus cachee, la plus eloignee, la +plus inconnue des effets qu’ils voyaient: ils ne font usage de ce mot, +que lorsque le jeu des causes naturelles at connues cesse d’etre visible +pour eux; des qu’ils perdent le fil de ces causes, on des que leur +esprit ne peut plus en suivre la chaine, ils tranchent leur difficulte, +at terminent leurs recherches en appellant Dieu la derniere des causes, +c’est-a-dire celle qui est au-dela de toutes les causes qu’ils +connaissent; ainsi ils ne font qu’assigner une denomination vague a une +cause ignoree, a laquelle leur paresse ou les bornes de leurs +connaissances les forcent de s’arreter. Toutes les fois qu’on nous dit +que Dieu est l’auteur de quelque phenomene, cela signifie qu’on ignore +comment un tel phenomene a pu s’operer par le secours des forces ou des +causes que nous connaissons dans la nature. C’est ainsi que le commun +des hommes, dont l’ignorance est la partage, attribue a la Divinite non +seulement les effets inusites qui las frappent, mais encore les +evenemens les plus simples, dont les causes sont les plus faciles a +connaitre pour quiconque a pu les mediter. En un mot, l’homme a toujours +respecte les causes inconnues des effets surprenans, que son ignorance +l’empechait de demeler. Ce fut sur les debris de la nature que les +hommes eleverent le colosse imaginaire de la Divinite. + +Si l’ignorance de la nature donna la naissance aux dieux, la +connaissance de la nature est faite pour les detruire. A mesure que +l’homme s’instruit, ses forces at ses ressources augmentent avec ses +lumieres; les sciences, les arts conservateurs, l’industrie, lui +fournissent des secours; l’experience le rassure ou lui procure des +moyens de resister aux efforts de bien des causes +qui cessent de l’alarmer des qu’il les a connues. En un mot, ses +terreurs se dissipent dans la meme proportion que son esprit s’eclaire. +L’homnme instruit cesse d’etre superstitieux. + +Ce n’est jamais que sur parole que des peuples entiers adorent le Dieu +de leurs peres at de leurs pretres: l’autorite, la confiance, la +soumission, et l’habitude leur tiennent lieu de conviction et de +preuves; ils se prosternent et prient, parce que leurs peres leur out +appris a se prosterner at prier: mais pourquoi ceux-ci se sont-ils mis a +genoux? C’est que dans les temps eloignes leurs legislateurs et leurs +guides leur en ont fait un devoir. ‘Adorez at croyez,’ ont-ils dit, ‘des +dieux que vous ne pouvez comprendre; rapportez-vous-en a notre sagesse +profonde; nous en savons plus que vous sur la divinite.’ Mais pourquoi +m’en rapporterais-je a vous? C’est que Dieu le veut ainsi, c’est que +Dieu vous punira si vous osez resister. Mais ce Dieu n’est-il donc pas +la chose en question? Cependant las hommes se sont toujours payes de ce +cercle vicieux; la paresse de leur esprit leur fit trouver plus court de +s’en rapporter au jugament des autres. Toutes las notions religieuses +sent fondees uniquement sur l’autorite; toutes les religions du monde +defendent l’examen et ne veulent pas que l’on raisonne; c’est l’autorite +qui veut qu’on croie en Dieu; ce Dieu n’est lui-meme fonde que sur +l’autorite de quelques hommes qui pretendent le connaitre, et venir de +sa part pour l’annoncer a la terre. Un Dieu fait par les hommes a sans +doute bosom des hommes pour se faire connaitre aux hommes. + +Ne serait-ce donc que pour des pretres, des inspires, des metaphysiciens +que serait reservee la conviction de l’existence d’un Dieu, que l’on dit +neanmoins si necessaire a tout le genre humain? Mais trouvons-nous de +l’harmonie entre les opinions theologiques des differens inspires, ou +des penseurs repandus sur la terre? Ceux meme qui font profession +d’adorer le meme Dieu, sent-ils d’accord sur son compte? Sont-ils +contents des preuves que leurs collegues apportent de son existence? +Souscrivent-ils unanimement aux idees qu’ils presentent sur sa nature, +sur sa conduite, sur la facon d’entendre ses pretandus oracles? Est-il +une centree sur la terre ou la science de Dieu se soit reellement +parfectionnee? A-t-elle pris quelqne part la consistance et l’uniformite +que nous voyons prendre aux connaissances humaines, aux arts les plus +futiles, aux metiers les plus meprises? Ces mots d’esprit, +d’immaterialite, de creation, de predestination, de grace; cette foule +de distinctions subtiles dont la theologie s’est parteut remplie dans +quelques pays, ces inventions si ingenieuses, imaginees par des penseurs +qui se sont succedes depuis taut de siecles, n’ont fait, helas! +qu’embrouiller les choses, et jamais la science la plus necassaire aux +hommes n’a jusqu’ici pu acquerir la moindre fixite. Depuis des milliers +d’annees ces reveurs oisifs se sont perpetuellement relayes pour mediter +la Divinite, pour deviner ses voies cachees, pour inventer des +hypotheses propres a developper cette enigme importante. Leur peu de +succes n’a point decourage la vanite theologique; toujours on a parle de +Dieu: on s’est egorge pour lui, et cet etre sublime demeure toujours le +plus ignore et le plus discute. + +Les hommes auraient ete trop heureux, si, se bornant aux objets visibles +qui les interessent, ils eussent employe a perfectionner leurs sciences +reelles, leurs lois, leur morale, leur education, la moitie des efforts +qu’ils ont mis dans leurs recherches sur la Divinite. Ils auraiant ete +bien plus sages encore, et plus fortunes, s’ils eussent pu consentir a +laisser leurs guides desoeuvres se quereller entre eux, et sonder des +profondeurs capables de les etourdir, sans se meler de leurs disputes +insensees. Mais il est de l’essence de l’ignorance d’attacher de +l’importance a ce qu’elle ne comprend pas. La vanite humaine fait que +l’esprit se roidit contra des difficultes. Plus un objet se derobe a nos +yeux, plus nous faisons d’efforts pour le saisir, parce que des-lors il +aiguillonne notre orgueil, il excite notre curiosite, il nous parait +interessant. En combattant pour son Dieu chacun ne combattit en effet +que pour les interets de sa propra vanite, qui de toutes les passions +produites par la mal-organisation de la societe est la plus prompte a +s’alarmer, et la plus propre a produire de tres grandes folies. + +Si ecartant pour un moment les idees facheuses que la theologie nous +donne d’un Dieu capriciaux, dont les decrets partiaux et despotiques +decident du sort des humains, nous ne voulons fixer nos yeux que sur la +bonte pretendue, que tous les hommes, meme en tramblant devant ce Dieu, +s’accordent a lui donner; si nous lui supposons le projet qu’on lui +prete de n’avoir travaille que pour sa propre gloire, d’exiger les +hommages des etres intelligens; de ne chercher dans ses oeuvres que le +bien-etre du genre humain: comment concilier ces vues et ces +dispositions avec l’ignorance vraiment invincible dans laquelle ce Dieu, +si glorieux et si bon, laisse la plupart des hommes sur son compte? Si +Dieu veut etre connu, cheri, remercie, que ne se montre-t-il sous des +traits favorables a tous ces etres intelligens dont il veut etre aime et +adore? Pourquoi ne point se manifester a toute la terre dune facon non +equivoque, bien plus capable de nous convaincre que ces revelations +particulieres qui semblent accuser la Divinite d’une partialite facheuse +pour quelques-unes de ses creatures? La tout-puissant n’auroit-il donc +pas des moyens plus convainquans de se montrer aux hommas que ces +metamorphoses ridicules, cas incarnations pretendues, qui nous sont +attestees par des ecrivains si peu d’accord entre eux dans les recits +qu’ils en font? Au lieu de tant de miracles, inventes pour prouver la +mission divine de tant de legislateurs reveres par les differens peuples +du monde, le souverain des esprits ne pouvait-il pas convaincre tout +d’un coup l’esprit humain des choses qu’il a voulu lui faire connaitre? +Au lieu de suspendre un soleil dans la voute du firmament; au lieu de +repandre sans ordre les etoiles et les constellations qui remplissent +l’espace, n’eut-il pas ete plus conforme aux vues d’un Dieu si jaloux de +sa gloire et si bien-intentionne pour l’homme d’ecrire, d’une facon non +sujette a dispute, son nom, ses attributs, ses volontes permanentes en +caracteres ineffacables, et lisibles egalement pour tous les habitants +de la terre? Personne alors n’aurait pu douter de l’existence d’un Dieu, +de ses volontes claires, de ses intentions visibles. Sous les yeux de ce +Dieu si terrible, personne n’aurait eu l’audace de violer ses +ordonnances; nul mortel n’eut ose se mettre dans le cas d’attirer sa +colere: enfin nul homme n’eut eu le front d’en imposer en son nom, ou +d’interpreter ses volontes suivant ses propres fantaisies. + +En effet, quand meme on admettrait l’existence du Dieu theologique et la +realite des attributs si discordans qu’on lui donne, l’on n’en peut rien +conclure, pour autoriser la conduite ou les cultes qu’on prescrit de lui +rendre. La theologie est vraiment “le tonneau des Danaides”. A force de +qualites contradictoires et d’assartions hasardees, ella a, pour ainsi +dire, tellement garrotte son Dieu qu’elle l’a mis dans l’impossibilite +d’agir. S’il est infiniment bon, quelle raison aurions-nous de le +craindre? S’il est infiniment sage, de quoi nous inquieter sur notre +sort? S’il sait tout, pourquoi l’avertir de nos besoins, et le fatiguer +de nos prieres? S’il est partout, pourquoi lui elever des temples? S’il +est maitre de tout, pourquoi lui faire des sacrifices et des offrandes? +S’il est juste, comment croire qu’il punisse des creatures qu’il a +rempli de faiblesses? Si la grace fait tout en elles, quelle raison +aurait-il de les recompenser? S’il est tout-puissant, comment +l’offenser, comment lui resister? S’il est raisonnable, comment se +mattrait-il en colere contre des aveugles, a qui il a laisse la liberte +de deraisonner? S’il est immuable, de quel droit pretendrions-nous faire +changer ses decrets? S’il est inconcevable, pourquoi nous en occuper? +S’IL A PARLE, POURQUOI L’UNIVERS N’EST-IL PAS CONVAINCU? Si la +connaissance d’un Dieu est la plus necessaire, pourquoi n’est-elle pas +la plus evidente et a plus claire?—“Systeme de la Nature”, London, +1781. + +The enlightened and benevolent Pliny thus publicly professes himself an +atheist:—Quapropter effigiem Dei formamque quaerere imbecillitatis +humanae reor. Quisquis est Deus (si modo est alius) et quacunque in +parte, totus est sensus, totus est visus, totus auditus, totus animae, +totus animi, totus sui...Imperfectae vero in homine naturae praecipua +solatia ne deum quidem posse omnia. Namque nec sibi potest mortem +consciscere, si velit, quad homini dedit optimum in tantis vitae poenis: +nec mortales aeternitata donare, aut revocare defunctos; nec facere ut +qui vixit non vixerit, qui honores gessit non gessarit, nullumque habere +in praeteritum ius, praeterquam oblivionis, atque (ut facetis quoque +argumentis societas haec cum deo copuletur) ut bis dena viginti non +sint, et multa similiter efficere non posse.—Per quae declaratur haud +dubie naturae potentiam id quoque esse quad Deum vocamus.—Plin. “Nat. +Hist.” cap. de Deo. + +The consistent Newtonian is necessarily an atheist. See Sir W. +Drummond’s “Academical Questions”, chapter 3.—Sir W. seems to consider +the atheism to which it leads as a sufficient presumption of the +falsehood of the system of gravitation; but surely it is more consistent +with the good faith of philosophy to admit a deduction from facts than +an hypothesis incapable of proof, although it might militate with the +obstinate preconceptions of the mob. Had this author, instead of +inveighing against the guilt and absurdity of atheism, demonstrated its +falsehood, his conduct would have been more suited to the modesty of the +sceptic and the toleration of the philosopher. + +Omnia enim per Dei potentiam facta sunt: imo quia naturae potentia nulla +est nisi ipsa Dei potentia. Certum est nos eatenus Dei potentiam non +intelligere, quatenus causas naturales ignoramus; adeoque stulte ad +eandem Dei potentiam recurritur, quando rei alicuius causam naturalem, +sive est, ipsam Dei potantiam ignoramus.— Spinosa, “Tract. +Theologico-Pol.” chapter 1, page 14. + +7. 67:— + +Ahasuerus, rise! + +‘Ahasuerus the Jew crept forth from the dark cave of Mount Carmel. Near +two thousand years have elapsed since he was first goaded by +never-ending restlessness to rove the globe from pole to pole. When our +Lord was wearied with the burthen of His ponderous cross, and wanted to +rest before the door of Ahasuerus, the unfeeling wretch drove Him away +with brutality. The Saviour of mankind staggered, sinking under the +heavy load, but uttered no complaint. An angel of death appeared before +Ahasuerus, and exclaimed indignantly, “Barbarian! thou hast denied rest +to the Son of man: be it denied thee also, until He comes to judge the +world.” + +‘A black demon, let loose from hell upon Ahasuerus, goads him now from +country to country; he is denied the consolation which death affords, +and precluded from the rest of the peaceful grave. + +‘Ahasuerus crept forth from the dark cave of Mount Carmel—he shook the +dust from his beard—and taking up one of the skulls heaped there, +hurled it down the eminence: it rebounded from the earth in shivered +atoms. “This was my father!” roared Ahasuerus. Seven more skulls rolled +down from rock to rock; while the infuriate Jew, following them with +ghastly looks, exclaimed—“And these were my wives!” He still continued +to hurl down skull after skull, roaring in dreadful accents—“And these, +and these, and these were my children! They COULD DIE; but I! reprobate +wretch! alas! I cannot die! Dreadful beyond conception is the judgement +that hangs over me. Jerusalem fell—I crushed the sucking babe, and +precipitated myself into the destructive flames. I cursed the +Romans—but, alas! alas! the restless curse held me by the hair,—and I +could not die! + +‘“Rome the giantess fell—I placed myself before the falling statue—she +fell and did not crush me. Nations sprang up and disappeared before +me;—but I remained and did not die. From cloud-encircled cliffs did I +precipitate myself into the ocean; but the foaming billows cast me upon +the shore, and the burning arrow of existence pierced my cold heart +again. I leaped into Etna’s flaming abyss, and roared with the giants +for ten long months, polluting with my groans the Mount’s sulphureous +mouth—ah! ten long months. The volcano fermented, and in a fiery stream +of lava cast me up. I lay torn by the torture-snakes of hell amid the +glowing cinders, and yet continued to exist.—A forest was on fire: I +darted on wings of fury and despair into the crackling wood. Fire +dropped upon me from the trees, but the flames only singed my limbs; +alas! it could not consume them.—I now mixed with the butchers of +mankind, and plunged in the tempest of the raging battle. I roared +defiance to the infuriate Gaul, defiance to the victorious German; but +arrows and spears rebounded in shivers from my body. The Saracen’s +flaming sword broke upon my skull: balls in vain hissed upon me: the +lightnings of battle glared harmless around my loins: in vain did the +elephant trample on me, in vain the iron hoof of the wrathful steed! The +mine, big with destructive power, burst upon me, and hurled me high in +the air—I fell on heaps of smoking limbs, but was only singed. The +giant’s steel club rebounded from my body; the executioner’s hand could +not strangle me, the tiger’s tooth could not pierce me, nor would the +hungry lion in the circus devour me. I cohabited with poisonous snakes, +and pinched the red crest of the dragon.—The serpent stung, but could +not destroy me. The dragon tormented, but dared not to devour me.—I now +provoked the fury of tyrants: I said to Nero, ‘Thou art a bloodhound!’ I +said to Christiern, ‘Thou art a bloodhound!, I said to Muley Ismail, +‘Thou art a bloodhound!’—The tyrants invented cruel torments, but did +not kill me. Ha! not to be able to die—not to be able to die—not to be +permitted to rest after the toils of life—to be doomed to be imprisoned +for ever in the clay-formed dungeon—to be for ever clogged with this +worthless body, its lead of diseases and infirmities—to be condemned to +[be]hold for millenniums that yawning monster Sameness, and Time, that +hungry hyaena, ever bearing children, and ever devouring again her +offspring!—Ha! not to be permitted to die! Awful Avenger in Heaven, +hast Thou in Thine armoury of wrath a punishment more dreadful? then let +it thunder upon me, command a hurricane to sweep me down to the foot of +Carmel, that I there may lie extended; may pant, and writhe, and die.!”’ + +This fragment is the translation of part of some German work, whose +title I have vainly endeavoured to discover. I picked it up, dirty and +torn, some years ago, in Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. + +7. 135, 136:— + +I will beget a Son, and He shall bear +The sins of all the world. + +A book is put into our hands when children, called the Bible, the +purport of whose history is briefly this: That God made the earth in six +days, and there planted a delightful garden, in which He placed the +first pair of human beings. In the midst of the garden He planted a +tree, whose fruit, although within their reach, they were forbidden to +touch. That the Devil, in the shape of a snake, persuaded them to eat of +this fruit; in consequence of which God condemned both them and their +posterity yet unborn to satisfy His justice by their eternal misery. +That, four thousand years after these events (the human race in the +meanwhile having gone unredeemed to perdition), God engendered with the +betrothed wife of a carpenter in Judea (whose virginity was nevertheless +uninjured), and begat a son, whose name was Jesus Christ; and who was +crucified and died, in order that no more men might be devoted to +hell-fire, He bearing the burthen of His Father’s displeasure by proxy. +The book states, in addition, that the soul of whoever disbelieves this +sacrifice will be burned with everlasting fire. + +During many ages of misery and darkness this story gained implicit +belief; but at length men arose who suspected that it was a fable and +imposture, and that Jesus Christ, so far from being a God, was only a +man like themselves. But a numerous set of men, who derived and still +derive immense emoluments from this opinion, in the shape of a popular +belief, told the vulgar that if they did not believe in the Bible they +would be damned to all eternity; and burned, imprisoned, and poisoned +all the unbiassed and unconnected inquirers who occasionally arose. They +still oppress them, so far as the people, now become more enlightened, +will allow. + +The belief in all that the Bible contains is called Christianity. A +Roman governor of Judea, at the instance of a priest-led mob, crucified +a man called Jesus eighteen centuries ago. He was a man of pure life, +who desired to rescue his countrymen from the tyranny of their barbarous +and degrading superstitions. The common fate of all who desire to +benefit mankind awaited him. The rabble, at the instigation of the +priests, demanded his death, although his very judge made public +acknowledgement of his innocence. Jesus was sacrificed to the honour of +that God with whom he was afterwards confounded. It is of importance, +therefore, to distinguish between the pretended character of this being +as the Son of God and the Saviour of the world, and his real character +as a man, who, for a vain attempt to reform the world, paid the forfeit +of his life to that overbearing tyranny which has since so long +desolated the universe in his name. Whilst the one is a hypocritical +Daemon, who announces Himself as the God of compassion and peace, even +whilst He stretches forth His blood-red hand with the sword of discord +to waste the earth, having confessedly devised this scheme of desolation +from eternity; the other stands in the foremost list of those true +heroes who have died in the glorious martyrdom of liberty, and have +braved torture, contempt, and poverty in the cause of suffering +humanity. (Since writing this note I have some reason to suspect that +Jesus was an ambitious man, who aspired to the throne of Judea. + +The vulgar, ever in extremes, became persuaded that the crucifixion of +Jesus was a supernatural event. Testimonies of miracles, so frequent in +unenlightened ages, were not wanting to prove that he was something +divine. This belief, rolling through the lapse of ages, met with the +reveries of Plato and the reasonings of Aristotle, and acquired force +and extent, until the divinity of Jesus became a dogma, which to dispute +was death, which to doubt was infamy. + +CHRISTIANITY is now the established religion: he who attempts to impugn +it must be contented to behold murderers and traitors take precedence of +him in public opinion; though, if his genius be equal to his courage, +and assisted by a peculiar coalition of circumstances, future ages may +exalt him to a divinity, and persecute others in his name, as he was +persecuted in the name of his predecessor in the homage of the world. + +The same means that have supported every other popular belief have +supported Christianity. War, imprisonment, assassination, and falsehood; +deeds of unexampled and incomparable atrocity have made it what it is. +The blood shed by the votaries of the God of mercy and peace, since the +establishment of His religion, would probably suffice to drown all other +sectaries now on the habitable globe. We derive from our ancestors a +faith thus fostered and supported: we quarrel, persecute, and hate for +its maintenance. Even under a government which, whilst it infringes the +very right of thought and speech, boasts of permitting the liberty of +the press, a man is pilloried and imprisoned because he is a deist, and +no one raises his voice in the indignation of outraged humanity. But it +is ever a proof that the falsehood of a proposition is felt by those who +use coercion, not reasoning, to procure its admission; and a +dispassionate observer would feel himself more powerfully interested in +favour of a man who, depending on the truth of his opinions, simply +stated his reasons for entertaining them, than in that of his aggressor +who, daringly avowing his unwillingness or incapacity to answer them by +argument, proceeded to repress the energies and break the spirit of +their promulgator by that torture and imprisonment whose infliction he +could command. + +Analogy seems to favour the opinion that as, like other systems, +Christianity has arisen and augmented, so like them it will decay and +perish; that as violence, darkness, and deceit, not reasoning and +persuasion, have procured its admission among mankind, so, when +enthusiasm has subsided, and time, that infallible controverter of false +opinions, has involved its pretended evidences in the darkness of +antiquity, it will become obsolete; that Milton’s poem alone will give +permanency to the remembrance of its absurdities; and that men will +laugh as heartily at grace, faith, redemption, and original sin, as they +now do at the metamorphoses of Jupiter, the miracles of Romish saints, +the efficacy of witchcraft, and the appearance of departed spirits. + +Had the Christian religion commenced and continued by the mere force of +reasoning and persuasion, the preceding analogy would be inadmissible. +We should never speculate on the future obsoleteness of a system +perfectly conformable to nature and reason: it would endure so long as +they endured; it would be a truth as indisputable as the light of the +sun, the criminality of murder, and other facts, whose evidence, +depending on our organization and relative situations, must remain +acknowledged as satisfactory so long as man is man. It is an +incontrovertible fact, the consideration of which ought to repress the +hasty conclusions of credulity, or moderate its obstinacy in maintaining +them, that, had the Jews not been a fanatical race of men, had even the +resolution of Pontius Pilate been equal to his candour, the Christian +religion never could have prevailed, it could not even have existed: on +so feeble a thread hangs the most cherished opinion of a sixth of the +human race! When will the vulgar learn humility? When will the pride of +ignorance blush at having believed before it could comprehend? + +Either the Christian religion is true, or it is false: if true, it comes +from God, and its authenticity can admit of doubt and dispute no further +than its omnipotent author is willing to allow. Either the power or the +goodness of God is called in question, if He leaves those doctrines most +essential to the well-being of man in doubt and dispute; the only ones +which, since their promulgation, have been the subject of unceasing +cavil, the cause of irreconcilable hatred. IF GOD HAS SPOKEN, WHY IS THE +UNIVERSE NOT CONVINCED? + +There is this passage in the Christian Scriptures: ‘Those who obey not +God, and believe not the Gospel of his Son, shall be punished with +everlasting destruction.’ This is the pivot upon which all religions +turn:—they all assume that it is in our power to believe or not to +believe; whereas the mind can only believe that which it thinks true. A +human being can only be supposed accountable for those actions which are +influenced by his will. But belief is utterly distinct from and +unconnected with volition: it is the apprehension of the agreement or +disagreement of the ideas that compose any preposition. Belief is a +passion, or involuntary operation of the mind, and, like other passions, +its intensity is precisely proportionate to the degrees of excitement. +Volition is essential to merit or demerit. But the Christian religion +attaches the highest possible degrees of merit and demerit to that which +is worthy of neither, and which is totally unconnected with the peculiar +faculty of the mind, whose presence is essential to their being. + +Christianity was intended to reform the world: had an all-wise Being +planned it, nothing is more improbable than that it should have failed: +omniscience would infallibly have foreseen the inutility of a scheme +which experience demonstrates, to this age, to have been utterly +unsuccessful. + +Christianity inculcates the necessity of supplicating the Deity. Prayer +may be considered under two points of view;—as an endeavour to change +the intentions of God, or as a formal testimony of our obedience. But +the former case supposes that the caprices of a limited intelligence can +occasionally instruct the Creator of the world how to regulate the +universe; and the latter, a certain degree of servility analogous to the +loyalty demanded by earthly tyrants. Obedience indeed is only the +pitiful and cowardly egotism of him who thinks that he can do something +better than reason. + +Christianity, like all other religions, rests upon miracles, prophecies, +and martyrdoms. No religion ever existed which had not its prophets, its +attested miracles, and, above all, crowds of devotees who would bear +patiently the most horrible tortures to prove its authenticity. It +should appear that in no case can a discriminating mind subscribe to the +genuineness of a miracle. A miracle is an infraction of nature’s law, by +a supernatural cause; by a cause acting beyond that eternal circle +within which all things are included. God breaks through the law of +nature, that He may convince mankind of the truth of that revelation +which, in spite of His precautions, has been, since its introduction, +the subject of unceasing schism and cavil. + +Miracles resolve themselves into the following question (See Hume’s +Essay, volume 2 page 121.):—Whether it is more probable the laws of +nature, hitherto so immutably harmonious, should have undergone +violation, or that a man should have told a lie? Whether it is more +probable that we are ignorant of the natural cause of an event, or that +we know the supernatural one? That, in old times, when the powers of +nature were less known than at present, a certain set of men were +themselves deceived, or had some hidden motive for deceiving others; or +that God begat a Son, who, in His legislation, measuring merit by +belief, evidenced Himself to be totally ignorant of the powers of the +human mind—of what is voluntary, and what is the contrary? + +We have many instances of men telling lies;—none of an infraction of +nature’s laws, those laws of whose government alone we have any +knowledge or experience. The records of all nations afford innumerable +instances of men deceiving others either from vanity or interest, or +themselves being deceived by the limitedness of their views and their +ignorance of natural causes: but where is the accredited case of God +having come upon earth, to give the lie to His own creations? There +would be something truly wonderful in the appearance of a ghost; but the +assertion of a child that he saw one as he passed through the churchyard +is universally admitted to be less miraculous. + +But even supposing that a man should raise a dead body to life before +our eyes, and on this fact rest his claim to being considered the son of +God;—the Humane Society restores drowned persons, and because it makes +no mystery of the method it employs, its members are not mistaken for +the sons of God. All that we have a right to infer from our ignorance of +the cause of any event is that we do not know it: had the Mexicans +attended to this simple rule when they heard the cannon of the +Spaniards, they would not have considered them as gods: the experiments +of modern chemistry would have defied the wisest philosophers of ancient +Greece and Rome to have accounted for them on natural principles. An +author of strong common sense has observed that ‘a miracle is no miracle +at second-hand’; he might have added that a miracle is no miracle in any +case; for until we are acquainted with all natural causes, we have no +reason to imagine others. + +There remains to be considered another proof of Christianity—Prophecy. +A book is written before a certain event, in which this event is +foretold; how could the prophet have foreknown it without inspiration? +how could he have been inspired without God? The greatest stress is laid +on the prophecies of Moses and Hosea on the dispersion of the Jews, and +that of Isaiah concerning the coming of the Messiah. The prophecy of +Moses is a collection of every possible cursing and blessing; and it is +so far from being marvellous that the one of dispersion should have been +fulfilled, that it would have been more surprising if, out of all these, +none should have taken effect. In Deuteronomy, chapter 28, verse 64, +where Moses explicitly foretells the dispersion, he states that they +shall there serve gods of wood and stone: ‘And the Lord shall scatter +thee among all people, from the one end of the earth even to the other; +AND THERE THOU SHALT SERVE OTHER GODS, WHICH NEITHER THOU NOR THY +FATHERS HAVE KNOWN, EVEN GODS OF WOOD AND STONE.’ The Jews are at this +day remarkably tenacious of their religion. Moses also declares that +they shall be subjected to these curses for disobedience to his ritual: +‘And it shall come to pass, if thou wilt not hearken unto the voice of +the Lord thy God, to observe to do all the commandments and statutes +which I command thee this day; that all these curses shall come upon +thee, and overtake thee.’ Is this the real reason? The third, fourth, +and fifth chapters of Hosea are a piece of immodest confession. The +indelicate type might apply in a hundred senses to a hundred things. The +fifty-third chapter of Isaiah is more explicit, yet it does not exceed +in clearness the oracles of Delphos. The historical proof that Moses, +Isaiah, and Hosea did write when they are said to have written is far +from being clear and circumstantial. + +But prophecy requires proof in its character as a miracle; we have no +right to suppose that a man foreknew future events from God, until it is +demonstrated that he neither could know them by his own exertions, nor +that the writings which contain the prediction could possibly have been +fabricated after the event pretended to be foretold. It is more probable +that writings, pretending to divine inspiration, should have been +fabricated after the fulfilment of their pretended prediction than that +they should have really been divinely inspired, when we consider that +the latter supposition makes God at once the creator of the human mind +and ignorant of its primary powers, particularly as we have numberless +instances of false religions, and forged prophecies of things long past, +and no accredited case of God having conversed with men directly or +indirectly. It is also possible that the description of an event might +have foregone its occurrence; but this is far from being a legitimate +proof of a divine revelation, as many men, not pretending to the +character of a prophet, have nevertheless, in this sense, prophesied. + +Lord Chesterfield was never yet taken for a prophet, even by a bishop, +yet he uttered this remarkable prediction: ‘The despotic government of +France is screwed up to the highest pitch; a revolution is fast +approaching; that revolution, I am convinced, will be radical and +sanguinary.’ This appeared in the letters of the prophet long before the +accomplishment of this wonderful prediction. Now, have these particulars +come to pass, or have they not? If they have, how could the Earl have +foreknown them without inspiration? If we admit the truth of the +Christian religion on testimony such as this, we must admit, on the same +strength of evidence, that God has affixed the highest rewards to +belief, and the eternal tortures of the never-dying worm to disbelief, +both of which have been demonstrated to be involuntary. + +The last proof of the Christian religion depends on the influence of the +Holy Ghost. Theologians divide the influence of the Holy Ghost into its +ordinary and extraordinary modes of operation. The latter is supposed to +be that which inspired the Prophets and Apostles; and the former to be +the grace of God, which summarily makes known the truth of His +revelation to those whose mind is fitted for its reception by a +submissive perusal of His word. Persons convinced in this manner can do +anything but account for their conviction, describe the time at which it +happened, or the manner in which it came upon them. It is supposed to +enter the mind by other channels than those of the senses, and therefore +professes to be superior to reason founded on their experience. + +Admitting, however, the usefulness or possibility of a divine +revelation, unless we demolish the foundations of all human knowledge, +it is requisite that our reason should previously demonstrate its +genuineness; for, before we extinguish the steady ray of reason and +common sense, it is fit that we should discover whether we cannot do +without their assistance, whether or no there be any other which may +suffice to guide us through the labyrinth of life (See Locke’s “Essay on +the Human Understanding”, book 4 chapter 19, on Enthusiasm.): for, if a +man is to be inspired upon all occasions, if he is to be sure of a thing +because he is sure, if the ordinary operations of the Spirit are not to +be considered very extraordinary modes of demonstration, if enthusiasm +is to usurp the place of proof, and madness that of sanity, all +reasoning is superfluous. The Mahometan dies fighting for his prophet, +the Indian immolates himself at the chariot-wheels of Brahma, the +Hottentot worships an insect, the Negro a bunch of feathers, the Mexican +sacrifices human victims! Their degree of conviction must certainly be +very strong: it cannot arise from reasoning, it must from feelings, the +reward of their prayers. If each of these should affirm, in opposition +to the strongest possible arguments, that inspiration carried internal +evidence, I fear their inspired brethren, the orthodox missionaries, +would be so uncharitable as to pronounce them obstinate. + +Miracles cannot be received as testimonies of a disputed fact, because +all human testimony has ever been insufficient to establish the +possibility of miracles. That which is incapable of proof itself is no +proof of anything else. Prophecy has also been rejected by the test of +reason. Those, then, who have been actually inspired are the only true +believers in the Christian religion. + +Mox numine viso +Virgineei tumuere sinus, innuptaque mater +Arcano stupuit compleri viscera partu, +Auctorem paritura suum. Mortalia corda +Artificem texere poli, latuitque sub uno +Pectore, qui totum late complectitur orbem.—Claudian, “Carmen Paschale”. + +Does not so monstrous and disgusting an absurdity carry its own infamy +and refutation with itself? + +8. 203-207:— + +Him, still from hope to hope the bliss pursuing +Which from the exhaustless lore of human weal +Draws on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that rise +In time-destroying infiniteness, gift +With self-enshrined eternity, etc. + +Time is our consciousness of the succession of ideas in our mind. Vivid +sensation, of either pain or pleasure, makes the time seem long, as the +common phrase is, because it renders us more acutely conscious of our +ideas. If a mind be conscious of an hundred ideas during one minute, by +the clock, and of two hundred during another, the latter of these spaces +would actually occupy so much greater extent in the mind as two exceed +one in quantity. If, therefore, the human mind, by any future +improvement of its sensibility, should become conscious of an infinite +number of ideas in a minute, that minute would be eternity. I do not +hence infer that the actual space between the birth and death of a man +will ever be prolonged; but that his sensibility is perfectible, and +that the number of ideas which his mind is capable of receiving is +indefinite. One man is stretched on the rack during twelve hours; +another sleeps soundly in his bed: the difference of time perceived by +these two persons is immense; one hardly will believe that half an hour +has elapsed, the other could credit that centuries had flown during his +agony. Thus, the life of a man of virtue and talent, who should die in +his thirtieth year, is, with regard to his own feelings, longer than +that of a miserable priest-ridden slave, who dreams out a century of +dulness. The one has perpetually cultivated his mental faculties, has +rendered himself master of his thoughts, can abstract and generalize +amid the lethargy of every-day business;—the other can slumber over the +brightest moments of his being, and is unable to remember the happiest +hour of his life. Perhaps the perishing ephemeron enjoys a longer life +than the tortoise. + +Dark flood of time! +Roll as it listeth thee—I measure not +By months or moments thy ambiguous course. +Another may stand by me on the brink +And watch the bubble whirled beyond his ken +That pauses at my feet. The sense of love, +The thirst for action, and the impassioned thought +Prolong my being: if I wake no more, +My life more actual living will contain +Than some gray veteran’s of the world’s cold school, +Whose listless hours unprofitably roll, +By one enthusiast feeling unredeemed.— + +See Godwin’s “Pol. Jus.” volume 1, page 411; and Condorcet, “Esquisse +d’un Tableau Historique des Progres de l’Esprit Humain”, epoque 9. + +8. 211, 212:— + +No longer now +He slays the lamb that looks him in the face. + +I hold that the depravity of the physical and moral nature of man +originated in his unnatural habits of life. The origin of man, like that +of the universe of which he is a part, is enveloped in impenetrable +mystery. His generations either had a beginning, or they had not. The +weight of evidence in favour of each of these suppositions seems +tolerably equal; and it is perfectly unimportant to the present argument +which is assumed. The language spoken, however, by the mythology of +nearly all religions seems to prove that at some distant period man +forsook the path of nature, and sacrificed the purity and happiness of +his being to unnatural appetites. The date of this event seems to have +also been that of some great change in the climates of the earth, with +which it has an obvious correspondence. The allegory of Adam and Eve +eating of the tree of evil, and entailing upon their posterity the wrath +of God and the loss of everlasting life, admits of no other explanation +than the disease and crime that have flowed from unnatural diet. Milton +was so well aware of this that he makes Raphael thus exhibit to Adam the +consequence of his disobedience:— + +Immediately a place +Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark; +A lazar-house it seemed; wherein were laid +Numbers of all diseased—all maladies +Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms +Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, +Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, +Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, +Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy, +And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, +Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, +Dropsies and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. + +And how many thousands more might not be added to this frightful catalogue! + +The story of Prometheus is one likewise which, although universally +admitted to be allegorical, has never been satisfactorily explained. +Prometheus stole fire from heaven, and was chained for this crime to +Mount Caucasus, where a vulture continually devoured his liver, that +grew to meet its hunger. Hesiod says that, before the time of +Prometheus, mankind were exempt from suffering; that they enjoyed a +vigorous youth, and that death, when at length it came, approached like +sleep, and gently closed their eyes. Again, so general was this opinion +that Horace, a poet of the Augustan age, writes:— + +Audax omnia perpeti, +Gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas; +Audax Iapeti genus +Ignem fraude mala gentibus intulit: +Post ignem aetheria domo +Subductum, macies et nova febrium +Terris incubuit cohors, +Semotique prius tarda necessitas +Lethi corripuit gradum. + +How plain a language is spoken by all this! Prometheus (who represents +the human race) effected some great change in the condition of his +nature, and applied fire to culinary purposes; thus inventing an +expedient for screening from his disgust the horrors of the shambles. +From this moment his vitals were devoured by the vulture of disease. It +consumed his being in every shape of its loathsome and infinite variety, +inducing the soul-quelling sinkings of premature and violent death. All +vice rose from the ruin of healthful innocence. Tyranny, superstition, +commerce, and inequality were then first known, when reason vainly +attempted to guide the wanderings of exacerbated passion. I conclude +this part of the subject with an extract from Mr. Newton’s “Defence of +Vegetable Regimen”, from whom I have borrowed this interpretation of the +fable of Prometheus. + +‘Making allowance for such transposition of the events of the allegory +as time might produce after the important truths were forgotten, which +this portion of the ancient mythology was intended to transmit, the +drift of the fable seems to be this:—Man at his creation was endowed +with the gift of perpetual youth; that is, he was not formed to be a +sickly suffering creature as we now see him, but to enjoy health, and to +sink by slow degrees into the bosom of his parent earth without disease +or pain. Prometheus first taught the use of animal food (primus bovem +occidit Prometheus (Plin. “Nat. Hist”. lib. 7 sect. 57.)) and of fire, +with which to render it more digestible and pleasing to the taste. +Jupiter, and the rest of the gods, foreseeing the consequences of these +inventions, were amused or irritated at the short-sighted devices of the +newly-formed creature, and left him to experience the sad effects of +them. Thirst, the necessary concomitant of a flesh diet’ (perhaps of all +diet vitiated by culinary preparation), ‘ensued; water was resorted to, +and man forfeited the inestimable gift of health which he had received +from heaven: he became diseased, the partaker of a precarious existence, +and no longer descended slowly to his grave. (“Return to Nature”. +Cadell, 1811.) + +But just disease to luxury succeeds, +And every death its own avenger breeds; +The fury passions from that blood began, +And turned on man a fiercer savage—man. + +Man, and the animals whom he has infected with his society, or depraved +by his dominion, are alone diseased. The wild hog, the mouflon, the +bison, and the wolf; are perfectly exempt from malady, and invariably +die either from external violence or natural old age. But the domestic +hog, the sheep, the cow, and the dog, are subject to an incredible +variety of distempers; and, like the corruptors of their nature, have +physicians who thrive upon their miseries. The supereminence of man is +like Satan’s, a supereminence of pain; and the majority of his species, +doomed to penury, disease, and crime, have reason to curse the untoward +event that, by enabling him to communicate his sensations, raised him +above the level of his fellow-animals. But the steps that have been +taken are irrevocable. The whole of human science is comprised in one +question:—How can the advantages of intellect and civilization be +reconciled with the liberty and pure pleasures of natural life? How can +we take the benefits and reject the evils of the system, which is now +interwoven with all the fibres of our being?—I believe that abstinence +from animal food and spirituous liquors would in a great measure +capacitate us for the solution of this important question. + +It is true that mental and bodily derangement is attributable in part to +other deviations from rectitude and nature than those which concern +diet. The mistakes cherished by society respecting the connection of the +sexes, whence the misery and diseases of unsatisfied celibacy, +unenjoying prostitution, and the premature arrival of puberty, +necessarily spring; the putrid atmosphere of crowded cities; the +exhalations of chemical processes; the muffling of our bodies in +superfluous apparel; the absurd treatment of infants:—all these and +innumerable other causes contribute their mite to the mass of human +evil. + +Comparative anatomy teaches us that man resembles frugivorous animals in +everything, and carnivorous in nothing; he has neither claws wherewith +to seize his prey, nor distinct and pointed teeth to tear the living +fibre. A Mandarin of the first class, with nails two inches long, would +probably find them alone inefficient to hold even a hare. After every +subterfuge of gluttony, the bull must be degraded into the ox, and the +ram into the wether, by an unnatural and inhuman operation, that the +flaccid fibre may offer a fainter resistance to rebellious nature. It is +only by softening and disguising dead flesh by culinary preparation that +it is rendered susceptible of mastication or digestion; and that the +sight of its bloody juices and raw horror does not excite intolerable +loathing and disgust. Let the advocate of animal food force himself to a +decisive experiment on its fitness, and, as Plutarch recommends, tear a +living lamb with his teeth, and plunging his head into its vitals slake +his thirst with the steaming blood; when fresh from the deed of horror, +let him revert to the irresistible instincts of nature that would rise +in judgement against it, and say, ‘Nature formed me for such work as +this.’ Then, and then only, would he be consistent. + +Man resembles no carnivorous animal. There is no exception, unless man +be one, to the rule of herbivorous animals having cellulated colons. + +The orang-outang perfectly resembles man both in the order and number of +his teeth. The orang-outang is the most anthropomorphous of the ape +tribe, all of which are strictly frugivorous. There is no other species +of animals, which live on different food, in which this analogy exists. +(Cuvier, “Lecons d’Anat. Comp”. tom. 3, pages 169, 373, 448, 465, 480. +Rees’s “Cyclopaedia”, article Man.) In many frugivorous animals, the +canine teeth are more pointed and distinct than those of man. The +resemblance also of the human stomach to that of the orang-outang is +greater than to that of any other animal. + +The intestines are also identical with those of herbivorous animals, +which present a larger surface for absorption and have ample and +cellulated colons. The caecum also, though short, is larger than that of +carnivorous animals; and even here the orang-outang retains its +accustomed similarity. + +The structure of the human frame, then, is that of one fitted to a pure +vegetable diet, in every essential particular. It is true that the +reluctance to abstain from animal food, in those who have been long +accustomed to its stimulus, is so great in some persons of weak minds as +to be scarcely overcome; but this is far from bringing any argument in +its favour. A lamb, which was fed for some time on flesh by a ship’s +crew, refused its natural diet at the end of the voyage. There are +numerous instances of horses, sheep, oxen, and even wood-pigeons, having +been taught to live upon flesh, until they have loathed their natural +aliment. Young children evidently prefer pastry, oranges, apples, and +other fruit, to the flesh of animals; until, by the gradual depravation +of the digestive organs, the free use of vegetables has for a time +produced serious inconveniences; FOR A TIME, I say, since there never +was an instance wherein a change from spirituous liquors and animal food +to vegetables and pure water has failed ultimately to invigorate the +body, by rendering its juices bland and consentaneous, and to restore to +the mind that cheerfulness and elasticity which not one in fifty +possesses on the present system. A love of strong liquors is also with +difficulty taught to infants. Almost every one remembers the wry faces +which the first glass of port produced. Unsophisticated instinct is +invariably unerring; but to decide on the fitness of animal food from +the perverted appetites which its constrained adoption produces; is to +make the criminal a judge in his own cause: it is even worse, it is +appealing to the infatuated drunkard in a question of the salubrity of +brandy. + +What is the cause of morbid action in the animal system? Not the air we +breathe, for our fellow-denizens of nature breathe the same uninjured; +not the water we drink (if remote from the pollutions of man and his +inventions (The necessity of resorting to some means of purifying water, +and the disease which arises from its adulteration in civilized +countries, is sufficiently apparent. See Dr. Lambe’s “Reports on +Cancer”. I do not assert that the use of water is in itself unnatural, +but that the unperverted palate would swallow no liquid capable of +occasioning disease.)), for the animals drink it too; not the earth we +tread upon; not the unobscured sight of glorious nature, in the wood, +the field, or the expanse of sky and ocean; nothing that we are or do in +common with the undiseased inhabitants of the forest. Something, then, +wherein we differ from them: our habit of altering our food by fire, so +that our appetite is no longer a just criterion for the fitness of its +gratification. Except in children, there remain no traces of that +instinct which determines, in all other animals, what aliment is natural +or otherwise; and so perfectly obliterated are they in the reasoning +adults of our species, that it has become necessary to urge +considerations drawn from comparative anatomy to prove that we are +naturally frugivorous. + +Crime is madness. Madness is disease. Whenever the cause of disease +shall be discovered, the root, from which all vice and misery have so +long overshadowed the globe, will lie bare to the axe. All the exertions +of man, from that moment, may be considered as tending to the clear +profit of his species. No sane mind in a sane body resolves upon a real +crime. It is a man of violent passions, bloodshot eyes, and swollen +veins, that alone can grasp the knife of murder. The system of a simple +diet promises no Utopian advantages. It is no mere reform of +legislation, whilst the furious passions and evil propensities of the +human heart, in which it had its origin, are still unassuaged. It +strikes at the root of all evil, and is an experiment which may be tried +with success, not alone by nations, but by small societies, families, +and even individuals. In no cases has a return to vegetable diet +produced the slightest injury; in most it has been attended with changes +undeniably beneficial. Should ever a physician be born with the genius +of Locke, I am persuaded that he might trace all bodily and mental +derangements to our unnatural habits, as clearly as that philosopher has +traced all knowledge to sensation. What prolific sources of disease are +not those mineral and vegetable poisons that have been introduced for +its extirpation! How many thousands have become murderers and robbers, +bigots and domestic tyrants, dissolute and abandoned adventurers, from +the use of fermented liquors; who, had they slaked their thirst only +with pure water, would have lived but to diffuse the happiness of their +own unperverted feelings! How many groundless opinions and absurd +institutions have not received a general sanction from the sottishness +and intemperance of individuals! Who will assert that, had the populace +of Paris satisfied their hunger at the ever-furnished table of vegetable +nature, they would have lent their brutal suffrage to the +proscription-list of Robespierre? Could a set of men, whose passions +were not perverted by unnatural stimuli, look with coolness on an auto +da fe? Is it to be believed that a being of gentle feelings, rising from +his meal of roots, would take delight in sports of blood? Was Nero a man +of temperate life? could you read calm health in his cheek, flushed with +ungovernable propensities of hatred for the human race? Did Muley +Ismael’s pulse beat evenly, was his skin transparent, did his eyes beam +with healthfulness, and its invariable concomitants, cheerfulness and +benignity? Though history has decided none of these questions, a child +could not hesitate to answer in the negative. Surely the bile-suffused +cheek of Buonaparte, his wrinkled brow, and yellow eye, the ceaseless +inquietude of his nervous system, speak no less plainly the character of +his unresting ambition than his murders and his victories. It is +impossible, had Buonaparte descended from a race of vegetable feeders, +that he could have had either the inclination or the power to ascend the +throne of the Bourbons. The desire of tyranny could scarcely be excited +in the individual, the power to tyrannize would certainly not be +delegated by a society neither frenzied by inebriation nor rendered +impotent and irrational by disease. Pregnant indeed with inexhaustible +calamity is the renunciation of instinct, as it concerns our physical +nature; arithmetic cannot enumerate, nor reason perhaps suspect, the +multitudinous sources of disease in civilized life. Even common water, +that apparently innoxious pabulum, when corrupted by the filth of +populous cities, is a deadly and insidious destroyer. (Lambe’s “Reports +on Cancer”.) Who can wonder that all the inducements held out by God +Himself in the Bible to virtue should have been vainer than a nurse’s +tale; and that those dogmas, by which He has there excited and justified +the most ferocious propensities, should have alone been deemed +essential; whilst Christians are in the daily practice of all those +habits which have infected with disease and crime, not only the +reprobate sons, but those favoured children of the common Father’s love? +Omnipotence itself could not save them from the consequences of this +original and universal sin. + +There is no disease, bodily or mental, which adoption of vegetable diet +and pure water has not infallibly mitigated, wherever the experiment has +been fairly tried. Debility is gradually converted into strength; +disease into healthfulness; madness, in all its hideous variety, from +the ravings of the fettered maniac to the unaccountable irrationalities +of ill-temper, that make a hell of domestic life, into a calm and +considerate evenness of temper, that alone might offer a certain pledge +of the future moral reformation of society. On a natural system of diet, +old age would be our last and our only malady; the term of our existence +would be protracted; we should enjoy life, and no longer preclude others +from the enjoyment of it; all sensational delights would be infinitely +more exquisite and perfect; the very sense of being would then be a +continued pleasure, such as we now feel it in some few and favoured +moments of our youth. By all that is sacred in our hopes for the human +race, I conjure those who love happiness and truth to give a fair trial +to the vegetable system. Reasoning is surely superfluous on a subject +whose merits an experience of six months would set for ever at rest. But +it is only among the enlightened and benevolent that so great a +sacrifice of appetite and prejudice can be expected, even though its +ultimate excellence should not admit of dispute. It is found easier, by +the short-sighted victims of disease, to palliate their torments by +medicine than to prevent them by regimen. The vulgar of all ranks are +invariably sensual and indocile; yet I cannot but feel myself persuaded +that when the benefits of vegetable diet are mathematically proved, when +it is as clear that those who live naturally are exempt from premature +death as that nine is not one, the most sottish of mankind will feel a +preference towards a long and tranquil, contrasted with a short and +painful, life. On the average, out of sixty persons four die in three +years. Hopes are entertained that, in April, 1814, a statement will be +given that sixty persons, all having lived more than three years on +vegetables and pure water, are then IN PERFECT HEALTH. More than two +years have now elapsed; NOT ONE OF THEM HAS DIED; no such example will +be found in any sixty persons taken at random. Seventeen persons of all +ages (the families of Dr. Lambe and Mr. Newton) have lived for seven +years on this diet without a death, and almost without the slightest +illness. Surely, when we consider that some of those were infants, and +one a martyr to asthma now nearly subdued, we may challenge any +seventeen persons taken at random in this city to exhibit a parallel +case. Those who may have been excited to question the rectitude of +established habits of diet by these loose remarks, should consult Mr. +Newton’s luminous and eloquent essay. (“Return to Nature, or Defence of +Vegetable Regimen”. Cadell, 1811.) + +When these proofs come fairly before the world, and are clearly seen by +all who understand arithmetic, it is scarcely possible that abstinence +from aliments demonstrably pernicious should not become universal. In +proportion to the number of proselytes, so will be the weight of +evidence; and when a thousand persons can be produced, living on +vegetables and distilled water, who have to dread no disease but old +age, the world will be compelled to regard animal flesh and fermented +liquors as slow but certain poisons. The change which would be produced +by simpler habits on political economy is sufficiently remarkable. The +monopolizing eater of animal flesh would no longer destroy his +constitution by devouring an acre at a meal, and many loaves of bread +would cease to contribute to gout, madness and apoplexy, in the shape of +a pint of porter, or a dram of gin, when appeasing the long-protracted +famine of the hardworking peasant’s hungry babes. The quantity of +nutritious vegetable matter, consumed in fattening the carcase of an ox, +would afford ten times the sustenance, undepraving indeed, and incapable +of generating disease, if gathered immediately from the bosom of the +earth. The most fertile districts of the habitable globe are now +actually cultivated by men for animals, at a delay and waste of aliment +absolutely incapable of calculation. It is only the wealthy that can, to +any great degree, even now, indulge the unnatural craving for dead +flesh, and they pay for the greater licence of the privilege by +subjection to supernumerary diseases. Again, the spirit of the nation +that should take the lead in this great reform would insensibly become +agricultural; commerce, with all its vice, selfishness, and corruption, +would gradually decline; more natural habits would produce gentler +manners, and the excessive complication of political relations would be +so far simplified that every individual might feel and understand why he +loved his country, and took a personal interest in its welfare. How +would England, for example, depend on the caprices of foreign rulers if +she contained within herself all the necessaries, and despised whatever +they possessed of the luxuries, of life? How could they starve her into +compliance with their views? Of what consequence would it be that they +refused to take her woollen manufactures, when large and fertile tracts +of the island ceased to be allotted to the waste of pasturage? On a +natural system of diet we should require no spices from India; no wines +from Portugal, Spain, France, or Madeira; none of those multitudinous +articles of luxury, for which every corner of the globe is rifled, and +which are the causes of so much individual rivalship, such calamitous +and sanguinary national disputes. In the history of modern times, the +avarice of commercial monopoly, no less than the ambition of weak and +wicked chiefs, seems to have fomented the universal discord, to have +added stubbornness to the mistakes of cabinets, and indocility to the +infatuation of the people. Let it ever be remembered that it is the +direct influence of commerce to make the interval between the richest +and the poorest man wider and more unconquerable. Let it be remembered +that it is a foe to everything of real worth and excellence in the human +character. The odious and disgusting aristocracy of wealth is built upon +the ruins of all that is good in chivalry or republicanism; and luxury +is the forerunner of a barbarism scarce capable of cure. Is it +impossible to realize a state of society, where all the energies of man +shall be directed to the production of his solid happiness? Certainly, +if this advantage (the object of all political speculation) be in any +degree attainable, it is attainable only by a community which holds out +no factitious incentives to the avarice and ambition of the few, and +which is internally organized for the liberty, security, and comfort of +the many. None must be entrusted with power (and money is the completest +species of power) who do not stand pledged to use it exclusively for the +general benefit. But the use of animal flesh and fermented liquors +directly militates with this equality of the rights of man. The peasant +cannot gratify these fashionable cravings without leaving his family to +starve. Without disease and war, those sweeping curtailers of +population, pasturage would include a waste too great to be afforded. +The labour requisite to support a family is far lighter’ than is usually +supposed. (It has come under the author’s experience that some of the +workmen on an embankment in North Wales, who, in consequence of the +inability of the proprietor to pay them, seldom received their wages, +have supported large families by cultivating small spots of sterile +ground by moonlight. In the notes to Pratt’s poem, “Bread, or the Poor”, +is an account of an industrious labourer who, by working in a small +garden, before and after his day’s task, attained to an enviable state +of independence.) The peasantry work, not only for themselves, but for +the aristocracy, the army, and the manufacturers. + +The advantage of a reform in diet is obviously greater than that of any +other. It strikes at the root of the evil. To remedy the abuses of +legislation, before we annihilate the propensities by which they are +produced, is to suppose that by taking away the effect the cause will +cease to operate. But the efficacy of this system depends entirely on +the proselytism of individuals, and grounds its merits, as a benefit to +the community, upon the total change of the dietetic habits in its +members. It proceeds securely from a number of particular cases to one +that is universal, and has this advantage over the contrary mode, that +one error does not invalidate all that has gone before. + +Let not too much, however, be expected from this system. The healthiest +among us is not exempt from hereditary disease. The most symmetrical, +athletic, and longlived is a being inexpressibly inferior to what he +would have been, had not the unnatural habits of his ancestors +accumulated for him a certain portion of malady and deformity. In the +most perfect specimen of civilized man, something is still found wanting +by the physiological critic. Can a return to nature, then, +instantaneously eradicate predispositions that have been slowly taking +root in the silence of innumerable ages?—Indubitably not. All that I +contend for is, that from the moment of the relinquishing all unnatural +habits no new disease is generated; and that the predisposition to +hereditary maladies gradually perishes, for want of its accustomed +supply. In cases of consumption, cancer, gout, asthma, and scrofula, +such is the invariable tendency of a diet of vegetables and pure water. + +Those who may be induced by these remarks to give the vegetable system a +fair trial, should, in the first place, date the commencement of their +practice from the moment of their conviction. All depends upon breaking +through a pernicious habit resolutely and at once. Dr. Trotter asserts +that no drunkard was ever reformed by gradually relinquishing his dram. +(See Trotter on the Nervous Temperament.) Animal flesh, in its effects +on the human stomach, is analogous to a dram. It is similar in the kind, +though differing in the degree, of its operation. The proselyte to a +pure diet must be warned to expect a temporary diminution of muscular +strength. The subtraction of a powerful stimulus will suffice to account +for this event. But it is only temporary, and is succeeded by an equable +capability for exertion, far surpassing his former various and +fluctuating strength. Above all, he will acquire an easiness of +breathing, by which such exertion is performed, with a remarkable +exemption from that painful and difficult panting now felt by almost +every one after hastily climbing an ordinary mountain. He will be +equally capable of bodily exertion, or mental application, after as +before his simple meal. He will feel none of the narcotic effects of +ordinary diet. Irritability, the direct consequence of exhausting +stimuli, would yield to the power of natural and tranquil impulses. He +will no longer pine under the lethargy of ennui, that unconquerable +weariness of life, more to be dreaded than death itself. He will escape +the epidemic madness, which broods over its own injurious notions of the +Deity, and ‘realizes the hell that priests and beldams feign.’ Every man +forms, as it were, his god from his own character; to the divinity of +one of simple habits no offering would be more acceptable than the +happiness of his creatures. He would be incapable of hating or +persecuting others for the love of God. He will find, moreover, a system +of simple diet to be a system of perfect epicurism. He will no longer be +incessantly occupied in blunting and destroying those organs from which +he expects his gratification. The pleasures of taste to be derived from +a dinner of potatoes, beans, peas, turnips, lettuces, with a dessert of +apples, gooseberries, strawberries, currants, raspberries, and in +winter, oranges, apples and pears, is far greater than is supposed. +These who wait until they can eat this plain fare with the sauce of +appetite will scarcely join with the hypocritical sensualist at a +lord-mayor’s feast, who declaims against the pleasures of the table. +Solomon kept a thousand concubines, and owned in despair that all was +vanity. The man whose happiness is constituted by the society of one +amiable woman would find some difficulty in sympathizing with the +disappointment of this venerable debauchee. + +I address myself not only to the young enthusiast, the ardent devotee of +truth and virtue, the pure and passionate moralist, yet unvitiated by +the contagion of the world. He will embrace a pure system, from its +abstract truth, its beauty, its simplicity, and its promise of +wide-extended benefit; unless custom has turned poison into food, he +will hate the brutal pleasures of the chase by instinct; it will be a +contemplation full of horror, and disappointment to his mind, that +beings capable of the gentlest and most admirable sympathies should take +delight in the death-pangs and last convulsions of dying animals. The +elderly man, whose youth has been poisoned by intemperance, or who has +lived with apparent moderation, and is afflicted with a wide variety of +painful maladies, would find his account in a beneficial change produced +without the risk of poisonous medicines. The mother, to whom the +perpetual restlessness of disease and unaccountable deaths incident to +her children are the causes of incurable unhappiness, would on this diet +experience the satisfaction of beholding their perpetual healths and +natural playfulness. (See Mr. Newton’s book. His children are the most +beautiful and healthy creatures it is possible to conceive; the girls +are perfect models for a sculptor; their dispositions are also the most +gentle and conciliating; the judicious treatment, which they experience +in other points, may be a correlative cause of this. In the first five +years of their life, of 18,000 children that are born, 7,500 die of +various diseases; and how many more of those that survive are not +rendered miserable by maladies not immediately mortal? The quality and +quantity of a woman’s milk are materially injured by the use of dead +flesh. In an island near Iceland, where no vegetables are to be got, the +children invariably die of tetanus before they are three weeks old, and +the population is supplied from the mainland.—Sir G. Mackenzie’s +“History of Iceland”. See also “Emile”, chapter 1, pages 53, 54, 56.) +The most valuable lives are daily destroyed by diseases that it is +dangerous to palliate and impossible to cure by medicine. How much +longer will man continue to pimp for the gluttony of Death, his most +insidious, implacable, and eternal foe? + +Alla drakontas agrious kaleite kai pardaleis kai leontas, autoi de +miaiphoneite eis omoteta katalipontes ekeinois ouden ekeinois men gar o +phonos trophe, umin de opson estin...“Oti gar ouk estin anthropo kata +phusin to sarkophagein, proton men apo ton somaton deloutai tes +kataskeues. Oudeni gar eoike to anthropou soma ton epi sarkophagia +gegonoton, ou grupotes cheilous, ouk ozutes onuchos, ou traxutes odontos +prosestin, ou koilias eutonia kai pneumatos thermotes, trepsai kai +katergasasthai dunate to baru kai kreodes all autothen e phusis te +leioteti ton odonton kai te smikroteti tou stomatos kai te malakoteti +tes glosses kai te pros pepsin ambluteti tou pneumatos, exomnutai ten +sarkophagian. Ei de legeis pephukenai seauton epi toiauten edoden, o +boulei phagein proton autos apokteinon, all autos dia seauton, me +chesamenos kopidi mede tumpano tini mede pelekei alla, os lukoi kai +arktoi kai leontes autoi osa esthiousi phoneuousin, anele degmati boun e +stomati sun, e apna e lagoon diarrexon kai phage prospeson eti zontos, +os ekeina...Emeis d’ outos en to miaiphono truphomen, ost ochon to kreas +prosagoreuomen, eit ochon pros auto to kreas deometha, anamignuntes +elaion oinon meli garon oxos edusmasi Suriakois Arabikois, oster ontos +nekron entaphiazontes. Kai gar outos auton dialuthenton kai +melachthenton kai tropon tina prosapenton ergon esti ten pechin +kratesai, kai diakratepheises de deinas barutetas empoiei kai nosodeis +apechias...Outo to proton agprion ti zoon ebrothe kai kakourgon, eit +ornis tis e ichthus eilkusto kai geusamenon outo kai promeletesan en +ekeinois to thonikon epi boun ergaten elthe kai to kosmion probaton kai +ton oikouron alektruona kai kata mikron outo ten aplestian stomosantes +epi sphagas anthropon kai polemous kai phonous proelthon.—Plout. peri +tes Sarkophagias. + +*** + + +NOTE ON QUEEN MAB, BY MRS. SHELLEY. + +Shelley was eighteen when he wrote “Queen Mab”; he never published it. +When it was written, he had come to the decision that he was too young +to be a ‘judge of controversies’; and he was desirous of acquiring ‘that +sobriety of spirit which is the characteristic of true heroism.’ But he +never doubted the truth or utility of his opinions; and, in printing and +privately distributing “Queen Mab”, he believed that he should further +their dissemination, without occasioning the mischief either to others +or himself that might arise from publication. It is doubtful whether he +would himself have admitted it into a collection of his works. His +severe classical taste, refined by the constant study of the Greek +poets, might have discovered defects that escape the ordinary reader; +and the change his opinions underwent in many points would have +prevented him from putting forth the speculations of his boyish days. +But the poem is too beautiful in itself, and far too remarkable as the +production of a boy of eighteen, to allow of its being passed over: +besides that, having been frequently reprinted, the omission would be +vain. In the former edition certain portions were left out, as shocking +the general reader from the violence of their attack on religion. I +myself had a painful feeling that such erasures might be looked upon as +a mark of disrespect towards the author, and am glad to have the +opportunity of restoring them. The notes also are reprinted entire—not +because they are models of reasoning or lessons of truth, but because +Shelley wrote them, and that all that a man at once so distinguished and +so excellent ever did deserves to be preserved. The alterations his +opinions underwent ought to be recorded, for they form his history. + +A series of articles was published in the “New Monthly Magazine” during +the autumn of the year 1832, written by a man of great talent, a +fellow-collegian and warm friend of Shelley: they describe admirably the +state of his mind during his collegiate life. Inspired with ardour for +the acquisition of knowledge, endowed with the keenest sensibility and +with the fortitude of a martyr, Shelley came among his fellow-creatures, +congregated for the purposes of education, like a spirit from another +sphere; too delicately organized for the rough treatment man uses +towards man, especially in the season of youth, and too resolute in +carrying out his own sense of good and justice, not to become a victim. +To a devoted attachment to those he loved he added a determined +resistance to oppression. Refusing to fag at Eton, he was treated with +revolting cruelty by masters and boys: this roused instead of taming his +spirit, and he rejected the duty of obedience when it was enforced by +menaces and punishment. To aversion to the society of his +fellow-creatures, such as he found them when collected together in +societies, where one egged on the other to acts of tyranny, was joined +the deepest sympathy and compassion; while the attachment he felt for +individuals, and the admiration with which he regarded their powers and +their virtues, led him to entertain a high opinion of the perfectibility +of human nature; and he believed that all could reach the highest grade +of moral improvement, did not the customs and prejudices of society +foster evil passions and excuse evil actions. + +The oppression which, trembling at every nerve yet resolute to heroism, +it was his ill-fortune to encounter at school and at college, led him to +dissent in all things from those whose arguments were blows, whose faith +appeared to engender blame and hatred. ‘During my existence,’ he wrote +to a friend in 1812, ‘I have incessantly speculated, thought, and read.’ +His readings were not always well chosen; among them were the works of +the French philosophers: as far as metaphysical argument went, he +temporarily became a convert. At the same time, it was the cardinal +article of his faith that, if men were but taught and induced to treat +their fellows with love, charity, and equal rights, this earth would +realize paradise. He looked upon religion, as it is professed, and above +all practised, as hostile instead of friendly to the cultivation of +those virtues which would make men brothers. + +Can this be wondered at? At the age of seventeen, fragile in health and +frame, of the purest habits in morals, full of devoted generosity and +universal kindness, glowing with ardour to attain wisdom, resolved at +every personal sacrifice to do right, burning with a desire for +affection and sympathy,—he was treated as a reprobate, cast forth as a +criminal. + +The cause was that he was sincere; that he believed the opinions which +he entertained to be true. And he loved truth with a martyr’s love; he +was ready to sacrifice station and fortune, and his dearest affections, +at its shrine. The sacrifice was demanded from, and made by, a youth of +seventeen. It is a singular fact in the history of society in the +civilized nations of modern times that no false step is so irretrievable +as one made in early youth. Older men, it is true, when they oppose +their fellows and transgress ordinary rules, carry a certain prudence or +hypocrisy as a shield along with them. But youth is rash; nor can it +imagine, while asserting what it believes to be true, and doing what it +believes to be right, that it should be denounced as vicious, and +pursued as a criminal. + +Shelley possessed a quality of mind which experience has shown me to be +of the rarest occurrence among human beings: this was his UNWORLDLINESS. +The usual motives that rule men, prospects of present or future +advantage, the rank and fortune of those around, the taunts and +censures, or the praise, of those who were hostile to him, had no +influence whatever over his actions, and apparently none over his +thoughts. It is difficult even to express the simplicity and directness +of purpose that adorned him. Some few might be found in the history of +mankind, and some one at least among his own friends, equally +disinterested and scornful, even to severe personal sacrifices, of every +baser motive. But no one, I believe, ever joined this noble but passive +virtue to equal active endeavours for the benefit of his friends and +mankind in general, and to equal power to produce the advantages he +desired. The world’s brightest gauds and its most solid advantages were +of no worth in his eyes, when compared to the cause of what he +considered truth, and the good of his fellow-creatures. Born in a +position which, to his inexperienced mind, afforded the greatest +facilities to practise the tenets he espoused, he boldly declared the +use he would make of fortune and station, and enjoyed the belief that he +should materially benefit his fellow-creatures by his actions; while, +conscious of surpassing powers of reason and imagination, it is not +strange that he should, even while so young, have believed that his +written thoughts would tend to disseminate opinions which he believed +conducive to the happiness of the human race. + +If man were a creature devoid of passion, he might have said and done +all this with quietness. But he was too enthusiastic, and too full of +hatred of all the ills he witnessed, not to scorn danger. Various +disappointments tortured, but could not tame, his soul. The more enmity +he met, the more earnestly he became attached to his peculiar views, and +hostile to those of the men who persecuted him. + +He was animated to greater zeal by compassion for his fellow-creatures. +His sympathy was excited by the misery with which the world is burning. +He witnessed the sufferings of the poor, and was aware of the evils of +ignorance. He desired to induce every rich man to despoil himself of +superfluity, and to create a brotherhood of property and service, and +was ready to be the first to lay down the advantages of his birth. He +was of too uncompromising a disposition to join any party. He did not in +his youth look forward to gradual improvement: nay, in those days of +intolerance, now almost forgotten, it seemed as easy to look forward to +the sort of millennium of freedom and brotherhood which he thought the +proper state of mankind as to the present reign of moderation and +improvement. Ill-health made him believe that his race would soon be +run; that a year or two was all he had of life. He desired that these +years should be useful and illustrious. He saw, in a fervent call on his +fellow-creatures to share alike the blessings of the creation, to love +and serve each other, the noblest work that life and time permitted him. +In this spirit he composed “Queen Mab”. + +He was a lover of the wonderful and wild in literature, but had not +fostered these tastes at their genuine sources—the romances and +chivalry of the middle ages—but in the perusal of such German works as +were current in those days. Under the influence of these he, at the age +of fifteen, wrote two short prose romances of slender merit. The +sentiments and language were exaggerated, the composition imitative and +poor. He wrote also a poem on the subject of Ahasuerus—being led to it +by a German fragment he picked up, dirty and torn, in Lincoln’s Inn +Fields. This fell afterwards into other hands, and was considerably +altered before it was printed. Our earlier English poetry was almost +unknown to him. The love and knowledge of Nature developed by +Wordsworth—the lofty melody and mysterious beauty of Coleridge’s +poetry—and the wild fantastic machinery and gorgeous scenery adopted by +Southey—composed his favourite reading; the rhythm of “Queen Mab” was +founded on that of “Thalaba”, and the first few lines bear a striking +resemblance in spirit, though not in idea, to the opening of that poem. +His fertile imagination, and ear tuned to the finest sense of harmony, +preserved him from imitation. Another of his favourite books was the +poem of “Gebir” by Walter Savage Landor. From his boyhood he had a +wonderful facility of versification, which he carried into another +language; and his Latin school-verses were composed with an ease and +correctness that procured for him prizes, and caused him to be resorted +to by all his friends for help. He was, at the period of writing “Queen +Mab”, a great traveller within the limits of England, Scotland, and +Ireland. His time was spent among the loveliest scenes of these +countries. Mountain and lake and forest were his home; the phenomena of +Nature were his favourite study. He loved to inquire into their causes, +and was addicted to pursuits of natural philosophy and chemistry, as far +as they could be carried on as an amusement. These tastes gave truth and +vivacity to his descriptions, and warmed his soul with that deep +admiration for the wonders of Nature which constant association with her +inspired. + +He never intended to publish “Queen Mab” as it stands; but a few years +after, when printing “Alastor”, he extracted a small portion which he +entitled “The Daemon of the World”. In this he changed somewhat the +versification, and made other alterations scarcely to be called +improvements. + +Some years after, when in Italy, a bookseller published an edition of +“Queen Mab” as it originally stood. Shelley was hastily written to by +his friends, under the idea that, deeply injurious as the mere +distribution of the poem had proved, the publication might awaken fresh +persecutions. At the suggestion of these friends he wrote a letter on +the subject, printed in the “Examiner” newspaper—with which I close +this history of his earliest work. + +TO THE EDITOR OF THE ‘EXAMINER.’ + +‘Sir, + +‘Having heard that a poem entitled “Queen Mab” has been surreptitiously +published in London, and that legal proceedings have been instituted +against the publisher, I request the favour of your insertion of the +following explanation of the affair, as it relates to me. + +‘A poem entitled “Queen Mab” was written by me at the age of eighteen, I +daresay in a sufficiently intemperate spirit—but even then was not +intended for publication, and a few copies only were struck off, to be +distributed among my personal friends. I have not seen this production +for several years. I doubt not but that it is perfectly worthless in +point of literary composition; and that, in all that concerns moral and +political speculation, as well as in the subtler discriminations of +metaphysical and religious doctrine, it is still more crude and +immature. I am a devoted enemy to religious, political, and domestic +oppression; and I regret this publication, not so much from literary +vanity, as because I fear it is better fitted to injure than to serve +the sacred cause of freedom. I have directed my solicitor to apply to +Chancery for an injunction to restrain the sale; but, after the +precedent of Mr. Southey’s “Wat Tyler” (a poem written, I believe, at +the same age, and with the same unreflecting enthusiasm), with little +hope of success. + +‘Whilst I exonerate myself from all share in having divulged opinions +hostile to existing sanctions, under the form, whatever it may be, which +they assume in this poem, it is scarcely necessary for me to protest +against the system of inculcating the truth of Christianity or the +excellence of Monarchy, however true or however excellent they may be, +by such equivocal arguments as confiscation and imprisonment, and +invective and slander, and the insolent violation of the most sacred +ties of Nature and society. + +‘SIR, + +‘I am your obliged and obedient servant, + +‘PERCY B. SHELLEY. + +‘Pisa, June 22, 1821.’ + +*** + + +[Of the following pieces the “Original Poetry by Victor and Cazire”, the +Poems from “St. Irvyne, or The Rosicrucian”, “The Posthumous Fragments +of Margaret Nicholson” and “The Devil’s Walk”, were published by Shelley +himself; the others by Medwin, Rossetti, Forman and Dowden, as indicated +in the several prefatory notes.] + +VERSES ON A CAT. + +[Published by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; dated 1800.] + +1. +A cat in distress, +Nothing more, nor less; +Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye, +As I am a sinner, +It waits for some dinner _5 +To stuff out its own little belly. + +2. +You would not easily guess +All the modes of distress +Which torture the tenants of earth; +And the various evils, _10 +Which like so many devils, +Attend the poor souls from their birth. + +3. +Some a living require, +And others desire +An old fellow out of the way; _15 +And which is the best +I leave to be guessed, +For I cannot pretend to say. + +4. +One wants society, +Another variety, _20 +Others a tranquil life; +Some want food, +Others, as good, +Only want a wife. + +5. +But this poor little cat _25 +Only wanted a rat, +To stuff out its own little maw; +And it were as good +SOME people had such food, +To make them HOLD THEIR JAW! _30 + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: OMENS. + +[Published by Medwin, “Shelley Papers”, 1833; dated 1807.] + +Hark! the owlet flaps his wings +In the pathless dell beneath; +Hark! ’tis the night-raven sings +Tidings of approaching death. + +*** + + +EPITAPHIUM. + +[LATIN VERSION OF THE EPITAPH IN GRAY’S ELEGY.] + +[Published by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847; dated 1808-9.] + +1. +Hic sinu fessum caput hospitali +Cespitis dormit juvenis, nec illi +Fata ridebant, popularis ille +Nescius aurae. + +2. +Musa non vultu genus arroganti _5 +Rustica natum grege despicata, +Et suum tristis puerum notavit +Sollicitudo. + +3. +Indoles illi bene larga, pectus +Veritas sedem sibi vindicavit, _10 +Et pari tantis meritis beavit +Munere coelum. + +4. +Omne quad moestis habuit miserto +Corde largivit lacrimam, recepit +Omne quod coelo voluit, fidelis _15 +Pectus amici. + +5. +Longius sed tu fuge curiosus +Caeteras laudes fuge suspicari, +Caeteras culpas fuge velle tractas +Sede tremenda. _20 + +6. +Spe tremescentes recubant in illa +Sede virtutes pariterque culpae, +In sui Patris gremio, tremenda +Sede Deique. + +*** + + +IN HOROLOGIUM. + +[Published by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847; dated 1809.] + +Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula colles +Fortunata nimis Machina dicit horas. +Quas MANIBUS premit illa duas insensa papillas +Cur mihi sit DIGITO tangere, amata, nefas? + +*** + + +A DIALOGUE. + +[Published (without title) by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; +dated 1809. Included in the Esdaile manuscript book.] + +DEATH: +For my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave, +I come, care-worn tenant of life, from the grave, +Where Innocence sleeps ‘neath the peace-giving sod, +And the good cease to tremble at Tyranny’s nod; +I offer a calm habitation to thee,— _5 +Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me? +My mansion is damp, cold silence is there, +But it lulls in oblivion the fiends of despair; +Not a groan of regret, not a sigh, not a breath, +Dares dispute with grim Silence the empire of Death. _10 +I offer a calm habitation to thee,— +Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me? + +MORTAL: +Mine eyelids are heavy; my soul seeks repose, +It longs in thy cells to embosom its woes, +It longs in thy cells to deposit its load, _15 +Where no longer the scorpions of Perfidy goad,— +Where the phantoms of Prejudice vanish away, +And Bigotry’s bloodhounds lose scent of their prey. +Yet tell me, dark Death, when thine empire is o’er, +What awaits on Futurity’s mist-covered shore? _20 + +DEATH: +Cease, cease, wayward Mortal! I dare not unveil +The shadows that float o’er Eternity’s vale; +Nought waits for the good but a spirit of Love, +That will hail their blest advent to regions above. +For Love, Mortal, gleams through the gloom of my sway, _25 +And the shades which surround me fly fast at its ray. +Hast thou loved?—Then depart from these regions of hate, +And in slumber with me blunt the arrows of fate. +I offer a calm habitation to thee.— +Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me? _30 + +MORTAL: +Oh! sweet is thy slumber! oh! sweet is the ray +Which after thy night introduces the day; +How concealed, how persuasive, self-interest’s breath, +Though it floats to mine ear from the bosom of Death! +I hoped that I quite was forgotten by all, _35 +Yet a lingering friend might be grieved at my fall, +And duty forbids, though I languish to die, +When departure might heave Virtue’s breast with a sigh. +O Death! O my friend! snatch this form to thy shrine, +And I fear, dear destroyer, I shall not repine. _40 + +NOTE: +_22 o’er Esdaile manuscript; on 1858. + + +*** + + +TO THE MOONBEAM. + +[Published by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858: dated 1809. +Included in the Esdaile manuscript book.] + +1. +Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale, +To bathe this burning brow. +Moonbeam, why art thou so pale, +As thou walkest o’er the dewy dale, +Where humble wild-flowers grow? _5 +Is it to mimic me? +But that can never be; +For thine orb is bright, +And the clouds are light, +That at intervals shadow the star-studded night. _10 + +2. +Now all is deathy still on earth; +Nature’s tired frame reposes; +And, ere the golden morning’s birth +Its radiant hues discloses, +Flies forth its balmy breath. _15 +But mine is the midnight of Death, +And Nature’s morn +To my bosom forlorn +Brings but a gloomier night, implants a deadlier thorn. + +3. +Wretch! Suppress the glare of madness _20 +Struggling in thine haggard eye, +For the keenest throb of sadness, +Pale Despair’s most sickening sigh, +Is but to mimic me; +And this must ever be, _25 +When the twilight of care, +And the night of despair, +Seem in my breast but joys to the pangs that rankle there. + +NOTE: +_28 rankle Esdaile manuscript wake 1858. + +*** + + +THE SOLITARY. + +[Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870; +dated 1810. Included in the Esdaile manuscript book.] + +1. +Dar’st thou amid the varied multitude +To live alone, an isolated thing? +To see the busy beings round thee spring, +And care for none; in thy calm solitude, +A flower that scarce breathes in the desert rude _5 +To Zephyr’s passing wing? + +2. +Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove, +Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother’s hate, +Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fate +As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love: _10 +He bears a load which nothing can remove, +A killing, withering weight. + +3. +He smiles—’tis sorrow’s deadliest mockery; +He speaks—the cold words flow not from his soul; +He acts like others, drains the genial bowl,— _15 +Yet, yet he longs—although he fears—to die; +He pants to reach what yet he seems to fly, +Dull life’s extremest goal. + +*** + + +TO DEATH. + +[Published (without title) by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; dated 1810. +Included (under the title, “To Death”) in the Esdaile manuscript book.] + +Death! where is thy victory? +To triumph whilst I die, +To triumph whilst thine ebon wing +Enfolds my shuddering soul? +O Death! where is thy sting? _5 +Not when the tides of murder roll, +When nations groan, that kings may bask in bliss, +Death! canst thou boast a victory such as this— +When in his hour of pomp and power +His blow the mightiest murderer gave, _10 +Mid Nature’s cries the sacrifice +Of millions to glut the grave; +When sunk the Tyrant Desolation’s slave; +Or Freedom’s life-blood streamed upon thy shrine; +Stern Tyrant, couldst thou boast a victory such as mine? _15 + +To know in dissolution’s void +That mortals’ baubles sunk decay; +That everything, but Love, destroyed +Must perish with its kindred clay,— +Perish Ambition’s crown, _20 +Perish her sceptred sway: +From Death’s pale front fades Pride’s fastidious frown. +In Death’s damp vault the lurid fires decay, +That Envy lights at heaven-born Virtue’s beam— +That all the cares subside, _25 +Which lurk beneath the tide +Of life’s unquiet stream;— +Yes! this is victory! +And on yon rock, whose dark form glooms the sky, +To stretch these pale limbs, when the soul is fled; _30 +To baffle the lean passions of their prey, +To sleep within the palace of the dead! +Oh! not the King, around whose dazzling throne +His countless courtiers mock the words they say, +Triumphs amid the bud of glory blown, _35 +As I in this cold bed, and faint expiring groan! + +Tremble, ye proud, whose grandeur mocks the woe +Which props the column of unnatural state! +You the plainings, faint and low, +From Misery’s tortured soul that flow, _40 +Shall usher to your fate. + +Tremble, ye conquerors, at whose fell command +The war-fiend riots o’er a peaceful land! +You Desolation’s gory throng +Shall bear from Victory along _45 +To that mysterious strand. + +NOTE: +_10 murderer Esdaile manuscript; murders 1858. + +*** + + +LOVE’S ROSE. + +[Published (without title) by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; dated 1810. +Included in the Esdaile manuscript book.] + +1. +Hopes, that swell in youthful breasts, +Live not through the waste of time! +Love’s rose a host of thorns invests; +Cold, ungenial is the clime, +Where its honours blow. _5 +Youth says, ‘The purple flowers are mine,’ +Which die the while they glow. + +2. +Dear the boon to Fancy given, +Retracted whilst it’s granted: +Sweet the rose which lives in Heaven, _10 +Although on earth ’tis planted, +Where its honours blow, +While by earth’s slaves the leaves are riven +Which die the while they glow. + +3. +Age cannot Love destroy, _15 +But perfidy can blast the flower, +Even when in most unwary hour +It blooms in Fancy’s bower. +Age cannot Love destroy, +But perfidy can rend the shrine _20 +In which its vermeil splendours shine. + +NOTES: +Love’s Rose—The title is Rossetti’s, 1870. +_2 not through Esdaile manuscript; they this, 1858. + +*** + + +EYES: A FRAGMENT. + +[Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870; +dated 1810. Included (four unpublished eight-line stanzas) in the +Esdaile manuscript book.)] + +How eloquent are eyes! +Not the rapt poet’s frenzied lay +When the soul’s wildest feelings stray +Can speak so well as they. +How eloquent are eyes! _5 +Not music’s most impassioned note +On which Love’s warmest fervours float +Like them bids rapture rise. + +Love, look thus again,— +That your look may light a waste of years, _10 +Darting the beam that conquers cares +Through the cold shower of tears. +Love, look thus again! + +*** + + +ORIGINAL POETRY BY VICTOR AND CAZIRE. + +[Published by Shelley, 1810. A Reprint, edited by Richard Garnett, C.B., +LL.D., was issued by John Lane, in 1898. The punctuation of the original +edition is here retained.] + +A Person complained that whenever he began to write, he never could +arrange his ideas in grammatical order. Which occasion suggested the +idea of the following lines: + +1. +Here I sit with my paper, my pen and my ink, +First of this thing, and that thing, and t’other thing think; +Then my thoughts come so pell-mell all into my mind, +That the sense or the subject I never can find: +This word is wrong placed,—no regard to the sense, +The present and future, instead of past tense, +Then my grammar I want; O dear! what a bore, +I think I shall never attempt to write more, +With patience I then my thoughts must arraign, +Have them all in due order like mutes in a train, _10 +Like them too must wait in due patience and thought, +Or else my fine works will all come to nought. +My wit too’s so copious, it flows like a river, +But disperses its waters on black and white never; +Like smoke it appears independent and free, _15 +But ah luckless smoke! it all passes like thee— +Then at length all my patience entirely lost, +My paper and pens in the fire are tossed; +But come, try again—you must never despair, +Our Murray’s or Entick’s are not all so rare, _20 +Implore their assistance—they’ll come to your aid, +Perform all your business without being paid, +They’ll tell you the present tense, future and past, +Which should come first, and which should come last, +This Murray will do—then to Entick repair, _25 +To find out the meaning of any word rare. +This they friendly will tell, and ne’er make you blush, +With a jeering look, taunt, or an O fie! tush! +Then straight all your thoughts in black and white put, +Not minding the if’s, the be’s, and the but, _30 +Then read it all over, see how it will run, +How answers the wit, the retort, and the pun, +Your writings may then with old Socrates vie, +May on the same shelf with Demosthenes lie, +May as Junius be sharp, or as Plato be sage. _35 +The pattern or satire to all of the age; +But stop—a mad author I mean not to turn, +Nor with thirst of applause does my heated brain burn, +Sufficient that sense, wit, and grammar combined, +My letters may make some slight food for the mind; _40 +That my thoughts to my friends I may freely impart, +In all the warm language that flows from the heart. +Hark! futurity calls! it loudly complains, +It bids me step forward and just hold the reins, +My excuse shall be humble, and faithful, and true, _45 +Such as I fear can be made but by few— +Of writers this age has abundance and plenty, +Three score and a thousand, two millions and twenty, +Three score of them wits who all sharply vie, +To try what odd creature they best can belie, _50 +A thousand are prudes who for CHARITY write, +And fill up their sheets with spleen, envy, and spite[,] +One million are bards, who to Heaven aspire, +And stuff their works full of bombast, rant, and fire, +T’other million are wags who in Grubstreet attend, _55 +And just like a cobbler the old writings mend, +The twenty are those who for pulpits indite, +And pore over sermons all Saturday night. +And now my good friends—who come after I mean, +As I ne’er wore a cassock, or dined with a dean. _60 +Or like cobblers at mending I never did try, +Nor with poets in lyrics attempted to vie; +As for prudes these good souls I both hate and detest, +So here I believe the matter must rest.— +I’ve heard your complaint—my answer I’ve made, _65 +And since to your calls all the tribute I’ve paid, +Adieu my good friend; pray never despair, +But grammar and sense and everything dare, +Attempt but to write dashing, easy, and free, +Then take out your grammar and pay him his fee, _70 +Be not a coward, shrink not to a tense, +But read it all over and make it out sense. +What a tiresome girl!—pray soon make an end, +Else my limited patience you’ll quickly expend. +Well adieu, I no longer your patience will try— _75 +So swift to the post now the letter shall fly. + +JANUARY, 1810. + + +2. + +TO MISS — — [HARRIET GROVE] FROM MISS — — [ELIZABETH SHELLEY]. + +For your letter, dear — [Hattie], accept my best thanks, +Rendered long and amusing by virtue of franks, +Though concise they would please, yet the longer the better, +The more news that’s crammed in, more amusing the letter, +All excuses of etiquette nonsense I hate, _5 +Which only are fit for the tardy and late, +As when converse grows flat, of the weather they talk, +How fair the sun shines—a fine day for a walk, +Then to politics turn, of Burdett’s reformation, +One declares it would hurt, t’other better the nation, _10 +Will ministers keep? sure they’ve acted quite wrong, +The burden this is of each morning-call song. +So — is going to — you say, +I hope that success her great efforts will pay [—] +That [the Colonel] will see her, be dazzled outright, _15 +And declare he can’t bear to be out of her sight. +Write flaming epistles with love’s pointed dart, +Whose sharp little arrow struck right on his heart, +Scold poor innocent Cupid for mischievous ways, +He knows not how much to laud forth her praise, _20 +That he neither eats, drinks or sleeps for her sake, +And hopes her hard heart some compassion will take, +A refusal would kill him, so desperate his flame, +But he fears, for he knows she is not common game, +Then praises her sense, wit, discernment and grace, _25 +He’s not one that’s caught by a sly looking face, +Yet that’s TOO divine—such a black sparkling eye, +At the bare glance of which near a thousand will die; +Thus runs he on meaning but one word in ten, +More than is meant by most such kind of men, _30 +For they’re all alike, take them one with another, +Begging pardon—with the exception of my brother. +Of the drawings you mention much praise I have heard, +Most opinion’s the same, with the difference of word, +Some get a good name by the voice of the crowd, _35 +Whilst to poor humble merit small praise is allowed, +As in parliament votes, so in pictures a name, +Oft determines a fate at the altar of fame.— +So on Friday this City’s gay vortex you quit, +And no longer with Doctors and Johnny cats sit— _40 +Now your parcel’s arrived — [Bysshe’s] letter shall go, +I hope all your joy mayn’t be turned into woe, +Experience will tell you that pleasure is vain, +When it promises sunshine how often comes rain. +So when to fond hope every blessing is nigh, _45 +How oft when we smile it is checked with a sigh, +When Hope, gay deceiver, in pleasure is dressed, +How oft comes a stroke that may rob us of rest. +When we think ourselves safe, and the goal near at hand, +Like a vessel just landing, we’re wrecked near the strand, _50 +And though memory forever the sharp pang must feel, +’Tis our duty to bear, and our hardship to steel— +May misfortunes dear Girl, ne’er thy happiness cloy, +May thy days glide in peace, love, comfort and joy, +May thy tears with soft pity for other woes flow, _55 +Woes, which thy tender heart never may know, +For hardships our own, God has taught us to bear, +Though sympathy’s soul to a friend drops a tear. +Oh dear! what sentimental stuff have I written, +Only fit to tear up and play with a kitten. _60 +What sober reflections in the midst of this letter! +Jocularity sure would have suited much better; +But there are exceptions to all common rules, +For this is a truth by all boys learned at schools. +Now adieu my dear — [Hattie] I’m sure I must tire, _65 +For if I do, you may throw it into the fire, +So accept the best love of your cousin and friend, +Which brings this nonsensical rhyme to an end. + +APRIL 30, 1810. + +NOTE: +_19 mischievous]mischevious 1810. + + +3. SONG. + +Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling, +Cold are the damps on a dying man’s brow,— +Stern are the seas when the wild waves are rolling, +And sad is the grave where a loved one lies low; +But colder is scorn from the being who loved thee, _5 +More stern is the sneer from the friend who has proved thee, +More sad are the tears when their sorrows have moved thee, +Which mixed with groans anguish and wild madness flow— + +And ah! poor — has felt all this horror, +Full long the fallen victim contended with fate: _10 +‘Till a destitute outcast abandoned to sorrow, +She sought her babe’s food at her ruiner’s gate— +Another had charmed the remorseless betrayer, +He turned laughing aside from her moans and her prayer, +She said nothing, but wringing the wet from her hair, _15 +Crossed the dark mountain side, though the hour it was late. +’Twas on the wild height of the dark Penmanmawr, +That the form of the wasted — reclined; +She shrieked to the ravens that croaked from afar, +And she sighed to the gusts of the wild sweeping wind.— _20 +I call not yon rocks where the thunder peals rattle, +I call not yon clouds where the elements battle, +But thee, cruel — I call thee unkind!’— + +Then she wreathed in her hair the wild flowers of the mountain, +And deliriously laughing, a garland entwined, _25 +She bedewed it with tears, then she hung o’er the fountain, +And leaving it, cast it a prey to the wind. +‘Ah! go,’ she exclaimed, ‘when the tempest is yelling, +’Tis unkind to be cast on the sea that is swelling, +But I left, a pitiless outcast, my dwelling, _30 +My garments are torn, so they say is my mind—’ + +Not long lived —, but over her grave +Waved the desolate form of a storm-blasted yew, +Around it no demons or ghosts dare to rave, +But spirits of peace steep her slumbers in dew. _35 +Then stay thy swift steps mid the dark mountain heather, +Though chill blow the wind and severe is the weather, +For perfidy, traveller! cannot bereave her, +Of the tears, to the tombs of the innocent due.— + +JULY, 1810. + + +4. SONG. + +Come [Harriet]! sweet is the hour, +Soft Zephyrs breathe gently around, +The anemone’s night-boding flower, +Has sunk its pale head on the ground. + +’Tis thus the world’s keenness hath torn, _5 +Some mild heart that expands to its blast, +’Tis thus that the wretched forlorn, +Sinks poor and neglected at last.— + +The world with its keenness and woe, +Has no charms or attraction for me, _10 +Its unkindness with grief has laid low, +The heart which is faithful to thee. +The high trees that wave past the moon, +As I walk in their umbrage with you, +All declare I must part with you soon, _15 +All bid you a tender adieu!— + +Then [Harriet]! dearest farewell, +You and I love, may ne’er meet again; +These woods and these meadows can tell +How soft and how sweet was the strain.— _20 + +APRIL, 1810. + + +5. SONG. + +DESPAIR. + +Ask not the pallid stranger’s woe, +With beating heart and throbbing breast, +Whose step is faltering, weak, and slow, +As though the body needed rest.— + +Whose ‘wildered eye no object meets, _5 +Nor cares to ken a friendly glance, +With silent grief his bosom beats,— +Now fixed, as in a deathlike trance. + +Who looks around with fearful eye, +And shuns all converse with man kind, _10 +As though some one his griefs might spy, +And soothe them with a kindred mind. + +A friend or foe to him the same, +He looks on each with equal eye; +The difference lies but in the name, _15 +To none for comfort can he fly.— + +’Twas deep despair, and sorrow’s trace, +To him too keenly given, +Whose memory, time could not efface— +His peace was lodged in Heaven.— _20 + +He looks on all this world bestows, +The pride and pomp of power, +As trifles best for pageant shows +Which vanish in an hour. + +When torn is dear affection’s tie, _25 +Sinks the soft heart full low; +It leaves without a parting sigh, +All that these realms bestow. + +JUNE, 1810. + + +6. SONG. + +SORROW. + +To me this world’s a dreary blank, +All hopes in life are gone and fled, +My high strung energies are sank, +And all my blissful hopes lie dead.— + +The world once smiling to my view, _5 +Showed scenes of endless bliss and joy; +The world I then but little knew, +Ah! little knew how pleasures cloy; + +All then was jocund, all was gay, +No thought beyond the present hour, _10 +I danced in pleasure’s fading ray, +Fading alas! as drooping flower. + +Nor do the heedless in the throng, +One thought beyond the morrow give[,] +They court the feast, the dance, the song, _15 +Nor think how short their time to live. + +The heart that bears deep sorrow’s trace, +What earthly comfort can console, +It drags a dull and lengthened pace, +‘Till friendly death its woes enroll.— _20 + +The sunken cheek, the humid eyes, +E’en better than the tongue can tell; +In whose sad breast deep sorrow lies, +Where memory’s rankling traces dwell.— + +The rising tear, the stifled sigh, _25 +A mind but ill at ease display, +Like blackening clouds in stormy sky, +Where fiercely vivid lightnings play. + +Thus when souls’ energy is dead, +When sorrow dims each earthly view, _30 +When every fairy hope is fled, +We bid ungrateful world adieu. + +AUGUST, 1810. + + +7. SONG. + +HOPE. + +And said I that all hope was fled, +That sorrow and despair were mine, +That each enthusiast wish was dead, +Had sank beneath pale Misery’s shrine.— + +Seest thou the sunbeam’s yellow glow, _5 +That robes with liquid streams of light; +Yon distant Mountain’s craggy brow. +And shows the rocks so fair,—so bright— + +Tis thus sweet expectation’s ray, +In softer view shows distant hours, _10 +And portrays each succeeding day, +As dressed in fairer, brighter flowers,— + +The vermeil tinted flowers that blossom; +Are frozen but to bud anew, +Then sweet deceiver calm my bosom, _15 +Although thy visions be not true,— + +Yet true they are,—and I’ll believe, +Thy whisperings soft of love and peace, +God never made thee to deceive, +’Tis sin that bade thy empire cease. _20 + +Yet though despair my life should gloom, +Though horror should around me close, +With those I love, beyond the tomb, +Hope shows a balm for all my woes. + +AUGUST, 1810. + + +8. SONG. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN. + +Oh! what is the gain of restless care, +And what is ambitious treasure? +And what are the joys that the modish share, +In their sickly haunts of pleasure? + +My husband’s repast with delight I spread, _5 +What though ’tis but rustic fare, +May each guardian angel protect his shed, +May contentment and quiet be there. + +And may I support my husband’s years, +May I soothe his dying pain, _10 +And then may I dry my fast falling tears, +And meet him in Heaven again. + +JULY, 1810. + + +9. SONG. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. + +Ah! grasp the dire dagger and couch the fell spear, +If vengeance and death to thy bosom be dear, +The dastard shall perish, death’s torment shall prove, +For fate and revenge are decreed from above. + +Ah! where is the hero, whose nerves strung by youth, _5 +Will defend the firm cause of justice and truth; +With insatiate desire whose bosom shall swell, +To give up the oppressor to judgement and Hell— + +For him shall the fair one twine chaplets of bays, +To him shall each warrior give merited praise, _10 +And triumphant returned from the clangour of arms, +He shall find his reward in his loved maiden’s charms. + +In ecstatic confusion the warrior shall sip, +The kisses that glow on his love’s dewy lip, +And mutual, eternal, embraces shall prove, _15 +The rewards of the brave are the transports of love. + +OCTOBER, 1809. + + +10. THE IRISHMAN’S SONG. + +The stars may dissolve, and the fountain of light +May sink into ne’er ending chaos and night, +Our mansions must fall, and earth vanish away, +But thy courage O Erin! may never decay. + +See! the wide wasting ruin extends all around, _5 +Our ancestors’ dwellings lie sunk on the ground, +Our foes ride in triumph throughout our domains, +And our mightiest heroes lie stretched on the plains. + +Ah! dead is the harp which was wont to give pleasure, +Ah! sunk is our sweet country’s rapturous measure, _10 +But the war note is waked, and the clangour of spears, +The dread yell of Sloghan yet sounds in our ears. + +Ah! where are the heroes! triumphant in death, +Convulsed they recline on the blood sprinkled heath, +Or the yelling ghosts ride on the blast that sweeps by, _15 +And ‘my countrymen! vengeance!’ incessantly cry. + +OCTOBER, 1809. + + +11. SONG. + +Fierce roars the midnight storm +O’er the wild mountain, +Dark clouds the night deform, +Swift rolls the fountain— + +See! o’er yon rocky height, _5 +Dim mists are flying— +See by the moon’s pale light, +Poor Laura’s dying! + +Shame and remorse shall howl, +By her false pillow— _10 +Fiercer than storms that roll, +O’er the white billow; + +No hand her eyes to close, +When life is flying, +But she will find repose, _15 +For Laura’s dying! + +Then will I seek my love, +Then will I cheer her, +Then my esteem will prove, +When no friend is near her. _20 + +On her grave I will lie, +When life is parted, +On her grave I will die, +For the false hearted. + +DECEMBER, 1809. + + +12. SONG. + +TO [HARRIET]. + +Ah! sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain, +And sweet the mild rush of the soft-sighing breeze, +And sweet is the glimpse of yon dimly-seen mountain, +‘Neath the verdant arcades of yon shadowy trees. + +But sweeter than all was thy tone of affection, _5 +Which scarce seemed to break on the stillness of eve, +Though the time it is past!—yet the dear recollection, +For aye in the heart of thy [Percy] must live. + +Yet he hears thy dear voice in the summer winds sighing, +Mild accents of happiness lisp in his ear, _10 +When the hope-winged moments athwart him are flying, +And he thinks of the friend to his bosom so dear.— + +And thou dearest friend in his bosom for ever +Must reign unalloyed by the fast rolling year, +He loves thee, and dearest one never, Oh! never _15 +Canst thou cease to be loved by a heart so sincere. + +AUGUST, 1810. + +NOTE: +_11 hope-winged]hoped-winged 1810. + + +13. SONG. + +TO — [HARRIET]. + +Stern, stern is the voice of fate’s fearful command, +When accents of horror it breathes in our ear, +Or compels us for aye bid adieu to the land, +Where exists that loved friend to our bosom so dear, + +’Tis sterner than death o’er the shuddering wretch bending, _5 +And in skeleton grasp his fell sceptre extending, +Like the heart-stricken deer to that loved covert wending, +Which never again to his eyes may appear— + +And ah! he may envy the heart-stricken quarry, +Who bids to the friend of affection farewell, _10 +He may envy the bosom so bleeding and gory, +He may envy the sound of the drear passing knell, + +Not so deep is his grief on his death couch reposing, +When on the last vision his dim eyes are closing! +As the outcast whose love-raptured senses are losing, _15 +The last tones of thy voice on the wild breeze that swell! + +Those tones were so soft, and so sad, that ah! never, +Can the sound cease to vibrate on Memory’s ear, +In the stern wreck of Nature for ever and ever, +The remembrance must live of a friend so sincere. _20 + +AUGUST, 1810. + + +14. SAINT EDMOND’S EVE. + +Oh! did you observe the Black Canon pass, +And did you observe his frown? +He goeth to say the midnight mass, +In holy St. Edmond’s town. + +He goeth to sing the burial chaunt, _5 +And to lay the wandering sprite, +Whose shadowy, restless form doth haunt, +The Abbey’s drear aisle this night. + +It saith it will not its wailing cease, +‘Till that holy man come near, _10 +‘Till he pour o’er its grave the prayer of peace, +And sprinkle the hallowed tear. + +The Canon’s horse is stout and strong +The road is plain and fair, +But the Canon slowly wends along, _15 +And his brow is gloomed with care. + +Who is it thus late at the Abbey-gate? +Sullen echoes the portal bell, +It sounds like the whispering voice of fate, +It sounds like a funeral knell. _20 + +The Canon his faltering knee thrice bowed, +And his frame was convulsed with fear, +When a voice was heard distinct and loud, +‘Prepare! for thy hour is near.’ + +He crosses his breast, he mutters a prayer, _25 +To Heaven he lifts his eye, +He heeds not the Abbot’s gazing stare, +Nor the dark Monks who murmured by. + +Bare-headed he worships the sculptured saints +That frown on the sacred walls, _30 +His face it grows pale,—he trembles, he faints, +At the Abbot’s feet he falls. + +And straight the father’s robe he kissed, +Who cried, ‘Grace dwells with thee, +The spirit will fade like the morning mist, _35 +At your benedicite. + +‘Now haste within! the board is spread, +Keen blows the air, and cold, +The spectre sleeps in its earthy bed, +‘Till St. Edmond’s bell hath tolled,— _40 + +‘Yet rest your wearied limbs to-night, +You’ve journeyed many a mile, +To-morrow lay the wailing sprite, +That shrieks in the moonlight aisle. + +‘Oh! faint are my limbs and my bosom is cold, _45 +Yet to-night must the sprite be laid, +Yet to-night when the hour of horror’s told, +Must I meet the wandering shade. + +‘Nor food, nor rest may now delay,— +For hark! the echoing pile, _50 +A bell loud shakes!—Oh haste away, +O lead to the haunted aisle.’ + +The torches slowly move before, +The cross is raised on high, +A smile of peace the Canon wore, _55 +But horror dimmed his eye— + +And now they climb the footworn stair, +The chapel gates unclose, +Now each breathed low a fervent prayer, +And fear each bosom froze— _60 + +Now paused awhile the doubtful band +And viewed the solemn scene,— +Full dark the clustered columns stand, +The moon gleams pale between— + +‘Say father, say, what cloisters’ gloom _65 +Conceals the unquiet shade, +Within what dark unhallowed tomb, +The corse unblessed was laid.’ + +‘Through yonder drear aisle alone it walks, +And murmurs a mournful plaint, _70 +Of thee! Black Canon, it wildly talks, +And call on thy patron saint— + +The pilgrim this night with wondering eyes, +As he prayed at St. Edmond’s shrine, +From a black marble tomb hath seen it rise, _75 +And under yon arch recline.’— + +‘Oh! say upon that black marble tomb, +What memorial sad appears.’— +‘Undistinguished it lies in the chancel’s gloom, +No memorial sad it bears’— _80 + +The Canon his paternoster reads, +His rosary hung by his side, +Now swift to the chancel doors he leads, +And untouched they open wide, + +Resistless, strange sounds his steps impel, _85 +To approach to the black marble tomb, +‘Oh! enter, Black Canon,’ a whisper fell, +‘Oh! enter, thy hour is come.’ + +He paused, told his beads, and the threshold passed. +Oh! horror, the chancel doors close, _90 +A loud yell was borne on the rising blast, +And a deep, dying groan arose. + +The Monks in amazement shuddering stand, +They burst through the chancel’s gloom, +From St. Edmond’s shrine, lo! a skeleton’s hand, _95 +Points to the black marble tomb. + +Lo! deeply engraved, an inscription blood red, +In characters fresh and clear— +‘The guilty Black Canon of Elmham’s dead, +And his wife lies buried here!’ _100 + +In Elmham’s tower he wedded a Nun, +To St. Edmond’s his bride he bore, +On this eve her noviciate here was begun, +And a Monk’s gray weeds she wore;— + +O! deep was her conscience dyed with guilt, _105 +Remorse she full oft revealed, +Her blood by the ruthless Black Canon was spilt, +And in death her lips he sealed; + +Her spirit to penance this night was doomed, +‘Till the Canon atoned the deed, _110 +Here together they now shall rest entombed, +‘Till their bodies from dust are freed— + +Hark! a loud peal of thunder shakes the roof, +Round the altar bright lightnings play, +Speechless with horror the Monks stand aloof, _115 +And the storm dies sudden away— + +The inscription was gone! a cross on the ground, +And a rosary shone through the gloom, +But never again was the Canon there found, +Or the Ghost on the black marble tomb. _120 + + +15. REVENGE. + +‘Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill, +Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill, +The thunder’s wild voice rattles madly above, +You will not then, cannot then, leave me my love.—’ + +I must dearest Agnes, the night is far gone— _5 +I must wander this evening to Strasburg alone, +I must seek the drear tomb of my ancestors’ bones, +And must dig their remains from beneath the cold stones. + +‘For the spirit of Conrad there meets me this night, +And we quit not the tomb ‘till dawn of the light, _10 +And Conrad’s been dead just a month and a day! +So farewell dearest Agnes for I must away,— + +‘He bid me bring with me what most I held dear, +Or a month from that time should I lie on my bier, +And I’d sooner resign this false fluttering breath, _15 +Than my Agnes should dread either danger or death, + +‘And I love you to madness my Agnes I love, +My constant affection this night will I prove, +This night will I go to the sepulchre’s jaw +Alone will I glut its all conquering maw’— _20 + +‘No! no loved Adolphus thy Agnes will share, +In the tomb all the dangers that wait for you there, +I fear not the spirit,—I fear not the grave, +My dearest Adolphus I’d perish to save’— + +‘Nay seek not to say that thy love shall not go, _25 +But spare me those ages of horror and woe, +For I swear to thee here that I’ll perish ere day, +If you go unattended by Agnes away’— + +The night it was bleak the fierce storm raged around, +The lightning’s blue fire-light flashed on the ground, _30 +Strange forms seemed to flit,—and howl tidings of fate, +As Agnes advanced to the sepulchre gate.— + +The youth struck the portal,—the echoing sound +Was fearfully rolled midst the tombstones around, +The blue lightning gleamed o’er the dark chapel spire, _35 +And tinged were the storm clouds with sulphurous fire. + +Still they gazed on the tombstone where Conrad reclined, +Yet they shrank at the cold chilling blast of the wind, +When a strange silver brilliance pervaded the scene, +And a figure advanced—tall in form—fierce in mien. _40 + +A mantle encircled his shadowy form, +As light as a gossamer borne on the storm, +Celestial terror sat throned in his gaze, +Like the midnight pestiferous meteor’s blaze.— + +SPIRIT: +Thy father, Adolphus! was false, false as hell, _45 +And Conrad has cause to remember it well, +He ruined my Mother, despised me his son, +I quitted the world ere my vengeance was done. + +I was nearly expiring—’twas close of the day,— +A demon advanced to the bed where I lay, _50 +He gave me the power from whence I was hurled, +To return to revenge, to return to the world,— + +Now Adolphus I’ll seize thy best loved in my arms, +I’ll drag her to Hades all blooming in charms, +On the black whirlwind’s thundering pinion I’ll ride, _55 +And fierce yelling fiends shall exult o’er thy bride— + +He spoke, and extending his ghastly arms wide, +Majestic advanced with a swift noiseless stride, +He clasped the fair Agnes—he raised her on high, +And cleaving the roof sped his way to the sky— _60 + +All was now silent,—and over the tomb, +Thicker, deeper, was swiftly extended a gloom, +Adolphus in horror sank down on the stone, +And his fleeting soul fled with a harrowing groan. + +DECEMBER, 1809. + + +16. GHASTA OR, THE AVENGING DEMON!!! + +The idea of the following tale was taken from a few unconnected German +Stanzas.—The principal Character is evidently the Wandering Jew, and +although not mentioned by name, the burning Cross on his forehead +undoubtedly alludes to that superstition, so prevalent in the part of +Germany called the Black Forest, where this scene is supposed to lie. + +Hark! the owlet flaps her wing, +In the pathless dell beneath, +Hark! night ravens loudly sing, +Tidings of despair and death.— + +Horror covers all the sky, _5 +Clouds of darkness blot the moon, +Prepare! for mortal thou must die, +Prepare to yield thy soul up soon— + +Fierce the tempest raves around, +Fierce the volleyed lightnings fly, _10 +Crashing thunder shakes the ground, +Fire and tumult fill the sky.— + +Hark! the tolling village bell, +Tells the hour of midnight come, +Now can blast the powers of Hell, _15 +Fiend-like goblins now can roam— + +See! his crest all stained with rain, +A warrior hastening speeds his way, +He starts, looks round him, starts again, +And sighs for the approach of day. _20 + +See! his frantic steed he reins, +See! he lifts his hands on high, +Implores a respite to his pains, +From the powers of the sky.— + +He seeks an Inn, for faint from toil, _25 +Fatigue had bent his lofty form, +To rest his wearied limbs awhile, +Fatigued with wandering and the storm. + +... +... + +Slow the door is opened wide— +With trackless tread a stranger came, _30 +His form Majestic, slow his stride, +He sate, nor spake,—nor told his name— + +Terror blanched the warrior’s cheek, +Cold sweat from his forehead ran, +In vain his tongue essayed to speak,— _35 +At last the stranger thus began: + +‘Mortal! thou that saw’st the sprite, +Tell me what I wish to know, +Or come with me before ’tis light, +Where cypress trees and mandrakes grow. _40 + +‘Fierce the avenging Demon’s ire, +Fiercer than the wintry blast, +Fiercer than the lightning’s fire, +When the hour of twilight’s past’— + +The warrior raised his sunken eye. _45 +It met the stranger’s sullen scowl, +‘Mortal! Mortal! thou must die,’ +In burning letters chilled his soul. + +WARRIOR: +Stranger! whoso’er you are, +I feel impelled my tale to tell— _50 +Horrors stranger shalt thou hear, +Horrors drear as those of Hell. + +O’er my Castle silence reigned, +Late the night and drear the hour, +When on the terrace I observed, _55 +A fleeting shadowy mist to lower.— + +Light the cloud as summer fog, +Which transient shuns the morning beam; +Fleeting as the cloud on bog, +That hangs or on the mountain stream.— _60 + +Horror seized my shuddering brain, +Horror dimmed my starting eye. +In vain I tried to speak,—In vain +My limbs essayed the spot to fly— + +At last the thin and shadowy form, _65 +With noiseless, trackless footsteps came,— +Its light robe floated on the storm, +Its head was bound with lambent flame. + +In chilling voice drear as the breeze +Which sweeps along th’ autumnal ground, _70 +Which wanders through the leafless trees, +Or the mandrake’s groan which floats around. + +‘Thou art mine and I am thine, +‘Till the sinking of the world, +I am thine and thou art mine, _75 +‘Till in ruin death is hurled— + +‘Strong the power and dire the fate, +Which drags me from the depths of Hell, +Breaks the tomb’s eternal gate, +Where fiendish shapes and dead men yell, _80 + +‘Haply I might ne’er have shrank +From flames that rack the guilty dead, +Haply I might ne’er have sank +On pleasure’s flowery, thorny bed— + +—‘But stay! no more I dare disclose, _85 +Of the tale I wish to tell, +On Earth relentless were my woes, +But fiercer are my pangs in Hell— + +‘Now I claim thee as my love, +Lay aside all chilling fear, _90 +My affection will I prove, +Where sheeted ghosts and spectres are! + +‘For thou art mine, and I am thine, +‘Till the dreaded judgement day, +I am thine, and thou art mine— _95 +Night is past—I must away.’ + +Still I gazed, and still the form +Pressed upon my aching sight, +Still I braved the howling storm, +When the ghost dissolved in night.— _100 + +Restless, sleepless fled the night, +Sleepless as a sick man’s bed, +When he sighs for morning light, +When he turns his aching head,— + +Slow and painful passed the day. _105 +Melancholy seized my brain, +Lingering fled the hours away, +Lingering to a wretch in pain.— + +At last came night, ah! horrid hour, +Ah! chilling time that wakes the dead, _110 +When demons ride the clouds that lower, +—The phantom sat upon my bed. + +In hollow voice, low as the sound +Which in some charnel makes its moan, +What floats along the burying ground, _115 +The phantom claimed me as her own. + +Her chilling finger on my head, +With coldest touch congealed my soul— +Cold as the finger of the dead, +Or damps which round a tombstone roll— _120 + +Months are passed in lingering round, +Every night the spectre comes, +With thrilling step it shakes the ground, +With thrilling step it round me roams— + +Stranger! I have told to thee, _125 +All the tale I have to tell— +Stranger! canst thou tell to me, +How to ‘scape the powers of Hell?— + +STRANGER: +Warrior! I can ease thy woes, +Wilt thou, wilt thou, come with me— _130 +Warrior! I can all disclose, +Follow, follow, follow me. + +Yet the tempest’s duskiest wing, +Its mantle stretches o’er the sky, +Yet the midnight ravens sing, _135 +‘Mortal! Mortal! thou must die.’ + +At last they saw a river clear, +That crossed the heathy path they trod, +The Stranger’s look was wild and drear, +The firm Earth shook beneath his nod— _140 + +He raised a wand above his head, +He traced a circle on the plain, +In a wild verse he called the dead, +The dead with silent footsteps came. + +A burning brilliance on his head, _145 +Flaming filled the stormy air, +In a wild verse he called the dead, +The dead in motley crowd were there.— + +‘Ghasta! Ghasta! come along, +Bring thy fiendish crowd with thee, _150 +Quickly raise th’ avenging Song, +Ghasta! Ghasta! come to me.’ + +Horrid shapes in mantles gray, +Flit athwart the stormy night, +‘Ghasta! Ghasta! come away, _155 +Come away before ’tis light.’ + +See! the sheeted Ghost they bring, +Yelling dreadful o’er the heath, +Hark! the deadly verse they sing, +Tidings of despair and death! _160 + +The yelling Ghost before him stands, +See! she rolls her eyes around, +Now she lifts her bony hands, +Now her footsteps shake the ground. + +STRANGER: +Phantom of Theresa say, _165 +Why to earth again you came, +Quickly speak, I must away! +Or you must bleach for aye in flame,— + +PHANTOM: +Mighty one I know thee now, +Mightiest power of the sky, _170 +Know thee by thy flaming brow, +Know thee by thy sparkling eye. + +That fire is scorching! Oh! I came, +From the caverned depth of Hell, +My fleeting false Rodolph to claim, _175 +Mighty one! I know thee well.— + +STRANGER: +Ghasta! seize yon wandering sprite, +Drag her to the depth beneath, +Take her swift, before ’tis light, +Take her to the cells of death! _180 + +Thou that heardst the trackless dead, +In the mouldering tomb must lie, +Mortal! look upon my head, +Mortal! Mortal! thou must die. + +Of glowing flame a cross was there, _185 +Which threw a light around his form, +Whilst his lank and raven hair, +Floated wild upon the storm.— + +The warrior upwards turned his eyes, +Gazed upon the cross of fire, _190 +There sat horror and surprise, +There sat God’s eternal ire.— + +A shivering through the Warrior flew, +Colder than the nightly blast, +Colder than the evening dew, _195 +When the hour of twilight’s past.— + +Thunder shakes th’ expansive sky, +Shakes the bosom of the heath, +‘Mortal! Mortal! thou must die’— +The warrior sank convulsed in death. _200 + +JANUARY, 1810. + +NOTES: +_114 its]it 1810. +_115 What]query Which? + + +17. FRAGMENT, OR THE TRIUMPH OF CONSCIENCE. + +’Twas dead of the night when I sate in my dwelling, +One glimmering lamp was expiring and low,— +Around the dark tide of the tempest was swelling, +Along the wild mountains night-ravens were yelling, +They bodingly presaged destruction and woe! _5 + +’Twas then that I started, the wild storm was howling, +Nought was seen, save the lightning that danced on the sky, +Above me the crash of the thunder was rolling, +And low, chilling murmurs the blast wafted by.— + +My heart sank within me, unheeded the jar _10 +Of the battling clouds on the mountain-tops broke, +Unheeded the thunder-peal crashed in mine ear, +This heart hard as iron was stranger to fear, +But conscience in low noiseless whispering spoke. +’Twas then that her form on the whirlwind uprearing, _15 +The dark ghost of the murdered Victoria strode, +Her right hand a blood reeking dagger was bearing, +She swiftly advanced to my lonesome abode.— +I wildly then called on the tempest to bear me! + +... +... + +*** + + +POEMS FROM ST. IRVYNE, OR, THE ROSICRUCIAN. + +[“St. Irvyne; or The Rosicrucian”, appeared early in 1811 (see +“Bibliographical List”). Rossetti (1870) relying on a passage in +Medwin’s “Life of Shelley” (1 page 74), assigns 1, 4, 5, and 6 to 1808, +and 2 and 4 to 1809. The titles of 1, 3, 4, and 5 are Rossetti’s; those +of 2 and 6 are Dowden’s.] + +*** + + +1.—VICTORIA. + +[Another version of “The Triumph of Conscience” immediately preceding.] + +1. +’Twas dead of the night, when I sat in my dwelling; +One glimmering lamp was expiring and low; +Around, the dark tide of the tempest was swelling, +Along the wild mountains night-ravens were yelling,— +They bodingly presaged destruction and woe. _5 + +2. +’Twas then that I started!—the wild storm was howling, +Nought was seen, save the lightning, which danced in the sky; +Above me, the crash of the thunder was rolling, +And low, chilling murmurs, the blast wafted by. + +3. +My heart sank within me—unheeded the war _10 +Of the battling clouds, on the mountain-tops, broke;— +Unheeded the thunder-peal crashed in mine ear— +This heart, hard as iron, is stranger to fear; +But conscience in low, noiseless whispering spoke. + +4. +’Twas then that her form on the whirlwind upholding, _15 +The ghost of the murdered Victoria strode; +In her right hand, a shadowy shroud she was holding, +She swiftly advanced to my lonesome abode. + +5. +I wildly then called on the tempest to bear me—’ + +... + +NOTE: +1.—Victoria: without title, 1811. + + +2.—ON THE DARK HEIGHT OF JURA. + +1. +Ghosts of the dead! have I not heard your yelling +Rise on the night-rolling breath of the blast, +When o’er the dark aether the tempest is swelling, +And on eddying whirlwind the thunder-peal passed? + +2. +For oft have I stood on the dark height of Jura, _5 +Which frowns on the valley that opens beneath; +Oft have I braved the chill night-tempest’s fury, +Whilst around me, I thought, echoed murmurs of death. + +3. +And now, whilst the winds of the mountain are howling, +O father! thy voice seems to strike on mine ear; _10 +In air whilst the tide of the night-storm is rolling, +It breaks on the pause of the elements’ jar. + +4. +On the wing of the whirlwind which roars o’er the mountain +Perhaps rides the ghost of my sire who is dead: +On the mist of the tempest which hangs o’er the fountain, +Whilst a wreath of dark vapour encircles his head. + +NOTE: +2.—On the Dark, etc.: without title, 1811; + The Father’s Spectre, Rossetti, 1870. + + +3.—SISTER ROSA: A BALLAD. + +1. +The death-bell beats!— +The mountain repeats +The echoing sound of the knell; +And the dark Monk now +Wraps the cowl round his brow, _5 +As he sits in his lonely cell. + +2. +And the cold hand of death +Chills his shuddering breath, +As he lists to the fearful lay +Which the ghosts of the sky, _10 +As they sweep wildly by, +Sing to departed day. +And they sing of the hour +When the stern fates had power +To resolve Rosa’s form to its clay. _15 + +3. +But that hour is past; +And that hour was the last +Of peace to the dark Monk’s brain. +Bitter tears, from his eyes, gushed silent and fast; +And he strove to suppress them in vain. _20 + +4. +Then his fair cross of gold he dashed on the floor, +When the death-knell struck on his ear.— +‘Delight is in store +For her evermore; +But for me is fate, horror, and fear.’ _25 + +5. +Then his eyes wildly rolled, +When the death-bell tolled, +And he raged in terrific woe. +And he stamped on the ground,— +But when ceased the sound, _30 +Tears again began to flow. + +6. +And the ice of despair +Chilled the wild throb of care, +And he sate in mute agony still; +Till the night-stars shone through the cloudless air, _35 +And the pale moonbeam slept on the hill. + +7. +Then he knelt in his cell:— +And the horrors of hell +Were delights to his agonized pain, +And he prayed to God to dissolve the spell, _40 +Which else must for ever remain. + +8. +And in fervent pray’r he knelt on the ground, +Till the abbey bell struck One: +His feverish blood ran chill at the sound: +A voice hollow and horrible murmured around— _45 +‘The term of thy penance is done!’ + +9. +Grew dark the night; +The moonbeam bright +Waxed faint on the mountain high; +And, from the black hill, _50 +Went a voice cold and still,— +‘Monk! thou art free to die.’ + +10. +Then he rose on his feet, +And his heart loud did beat, +And his limbs they were palsied with dread; _55 +Whilst the grave’s clammy dew +O’er his pale forehead grew; +And he shuddered to sleep with the dead. + +11. +And the wild midnight storm +Raved around his tall form, _60 +As he sought the chapel’s gloom: +And the sunk grass did sigh +To the wind, bleak and high, +As he searched for the new-made tomb. + +12. +And forms, dark and high, _65 +Seemed around him to fly, +And mingle their yells with the blast: +And on the dark wall +Half-seen shadows did fall, +As enhorrored he onward passed. _70 + +13. +And the storm-fiends wild rave +O’er the new-made grave, +And dread shadows linger around. +The Monk called on God his soul to save, +And, in horror, sank on the ground. _75 + +14. +Then despair nerved his arm +To dispel the charm, +And he burst Rosa’s coffin asunder. +And the fierce storm did swell +More terrific and fell, _80 +And louder pealed the thunder. + +15. +And laughed, in joy, the fiendish throng, +Mixed with ghosts of the mouldering dead: +And their grisly wings, as they floated along, +Whistled in murmurs dread. _85 + +16. +And her skeleton form the dead Nun reared +Which dripped with the chill dew of hell. +In her half-eaten eyeballs two pale flames appeared, +And triumphant their gleam on the dark Monk glared, +As he stood within the cell. _90 + +17. +And her lank hand lay on his shuddering brain; +But each power was nerved by fear.— +‘I never, henceforth, may breathe again; +Death now ends mine anguished pain.— +The grave yawns,—we meet there.’ _95 + +18. +And her skeleton lungs did utter the sound, +So deadly, so lone, and so fell, +That in long vibrations shuddered the ground; +And as the stern notes floated around, +A deep groan was answered from hell. + +NOTE: +3.—Sister Rosa: Ballad, 1811. + + +4.—ST. IRVYNE’S TOWER. + +1. +How swiftly through Heaven’s wide expanse +Bright day’s resplendent colours fade! +How sweetly does the moonbeam’s glance +With silver tint St. Irvyne’s glade! + +2. +No cloud along the spangled air, _5 +Is borne upon the evening breeze; +How solemn is the scene! how fair +The moonbeams rest upon the trees! + +3. +Yon dark gray turret glimmers white, +Upon it sits the mournful owl; _10 +Along the stillness of the night, +Her melancholy shriekings roll. + +4. +But not alone on Irvyne’s tower, +The silver moonbeam pours her ray; +It gleams upon the ivied bower, _15 +It dances in the cascade’s spray. + +5. +‘Ah! why do dark’ning shades conceal +The hour, when man must cease to be? +Why may not human minds unveil +The dim mists of futurity?— _20 + +6. +‘The keenness of the world hath torn +The heart which opens to its blast; +Despised, neglected, and forlorn, +Sinks the wretch in death at last.’ + +NOTE: +4.—St. Irvyne’s Tower: Song, 1810. + + +5.—BEREAVEMENT. + +1. +How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner, +As he bends in still grief o’er the hallowed bier, +As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, +And drops, to Perfection’s remembrance, a tear; +When floods of despair down his pale cheek are streaming, _5 +When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming, +Or, if lulled for awhile, soon he starts from his dreaming, +And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear. + +2. +Ah! when shall day dawn on the night of the grave, +Or summer succeed to the winter of death? _10 +Rest awhile, hapless victim, and Heaven will save +The spirit, that faded away with the breath. +Eternity points in its amaranth bower, +Where no clouds of fate o’er the sweet prospect lower, +Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower, _15 +When woe fades away like the mist of the heath. + +NOTE: +5.—Bereavement: Song, 1811. + + +6.—THE DROWNED LOVER. + +1. +Ah! faint are her limbs, and her footstep is weary, +Yet far must the desolate wanderer roam; +Though the tempest is stern, and the mountain is dreary, +She must quit at deep midnight her pitiless home. +I see her swift foot dash the dew from the whortle, _5 +As she rapidly hastes to the green grove of myrtle; +And I hear, as she wraps round her figure the kirtle, +‘Stay thy boat on the lake,—dearest Henry, I come.’ + +2. +High swelled in her bosom the throb of affection, +As lightly her form bounded over the lea, _10 +And arose in her mind every dear recollection; +‘I come, dearest Henry, and wait but for thee.’ +How sad, when dear hope every sorrow is soothing, +When sympathy’s swell the soft bosom is moving, +And the mind the mild joys of affection is proving, _15 +Is the stern voice of fate that bids happiness flee! + +3. +Oh! dark lowered the clouds on that horrible eve, +And the moon dimly gleamed through the tempested air; +Oh! how could fond visions such softness deceive? +Oh! how could false hope rend, a bosom so fair? _20 +Thy love’s pallid corse the wild surges are laving, +O’er his form the fierce swell of the tempest is raving; +But, fear not, parting spirit; thy goodness is saving, +In eternity’s bowers, a seat for thee there. + +6.—The Drowned Lover: Song. 1811; The Lake-Storm, Rossetti, 1870. + +*** + + +POSTHUMOUS FRAGMENTS OF MARGARET MCHOLSON. + +Being Poems found amongst the Papers of that noted Female who attempted +the life of the King in 1786. Edited by John Fitzvictor. + +[The “Posthumous Fragments”, published at Oxford by Shelley, appeared in +November, 1810. See “Bibliographical List”.] + +ADVERTISEMENT. + +The energy and native genius of these Fragments must be the only apology +which the Editor can make for thus intruding them on the public notice. +The first I found with no title, and have left it so. It is intimately +connected with the dearest interests of universal happiness; and much as +we may deplore the fatal and enthusiastic tendency which the ideas of +this poor female had acquired, we cannot fail to pay the tribute of +unequivocal regret to the departed memory of genius, which, had it been +rightly organized, would have made that intellect, which has since +become the victim of frenzy and despair, a most brilliant ornament to +society. + +In case the sale of these Fragments evinces that the public have any +curiosity to be presented with a more copious collection of my +unfortunate Aunt’s poems, I have other papers in my possession which +shall, in that case, be subjected to their notice. It may be supposed +they require much arrangement; but I send the following to the press in +the same state in which they came into my possession. J. F. + + +WAR. + +Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled +Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleeding world. +See! on yon heath what countless victims lie, +Hark! what loud shrieks ascend through yonder sky; +Tell then the cause, ’tis sure the avenger’s rage _5 +Has swept these myriads from life’s crowded stage: +Hark to that groan, an anguished hero dies, +He shudders in death’s latest agonies; +Yet does a fleeting hectic flush his cheek, +Yet does his parting breath essay to speak— _10 +‘Oh God! my wife, my children—Monarch thou +For whose support this fainting frame lies low; +For whose support in distant lands I bleed, +Let his friends’ welfare be the warrior’s meed. +He hears me not—ah! no—kings cannot hear, _15 +For passion’s voice has dulled their listless ear. +To thee, then, mighty God, I lift my moan, +Thou wilt not scorn a suppliant’s anguished groan. +Oh! now I die—but still is death’s fierce pain— +God hears my prayer—we meet, we meet again.’ _20 +He spake, reclined him on death’s bloody bed, +And with a parting groan his spirit fled. +Oppressors of mankind to YOU we owe +The baleful streams from whence these miseries flow; +For you how many a mother weeps her son, _25 +Snatched from life’s course ere half his race was run! +For you how many a widow drops a tear, +In silent anguish, on her husband’s bier! +‘Is it then Thine, Almighty Power,’ she cries, +‘Whence tears of endless sorrow dim these eyes? _30 +Is this the system which Thy powerful sway, +Which else in shapeless chaos sleeping lay, +Formed and approved?—it cannot be—but oh! +Forgive me, Heaven, my brain is warped by woe.’ +’Tis not—He never bade the war-note swell, _35 +He never triumphed in the work of hell— +Monarchs of earth! thine is the baleful deed, +Thine are the crimes for which thy subjects bleed. +Ah! when will come the sacred fated time, +When man unsullied by his leaders’ crime, _40 +Despising wealth, ambition, pomp, and pride, +Will stretch him fearless by his foe-men’s side? +Ah! when will come the time, when o’er the plain +No more shall death and desolation reign? +When will the sun smile on the bloodless field, _45 +And the stern warrior’s arm the sickle wield? +Not whilst some King, in cold ambition’s dreams, +Plans for the field of death his plodding schemes; +Not whilst for private pique the public fall, +And one frail mortal’s mandate governs all. _50 +Swelled with command and mad with dizzying sway; +Who sees unmoved his myriads fade away. +Careless who lives or dies—so that he gains +Some trivial point for which he took the pains. +What then are Kings?—I see the trembling crowd, _55 +I hear their fulsome clamours echoed loud; +Their stern oppressor pleased appears awhile, +But April’s sunshine is a Monarch’s smile— +Kings are but dust—the last eventful day +Will level all and make them lose their sway; _60 +Will dash the sceptre from the Monarch’s hand, +And from the warrior’s grasp wrest the ensanguined brand. +Oh! Peace, soft Peace, art thou for ever gone, +Is thy fair form indeed for ever flown? +And love and concord hast thou swept away, _65 +As if incongruous with thy parted sway? +Alas, I fear thou hast, for none appear. +Now o’er the palsied earth stalks giant Fear, +With War, and Woe, and Terror, in his train;— +List’ning he pauses on the embattled plain, _70 +Then speeding swiftly o’er the ensanguined heath, +Has left the frightful work to Hell and Death. +See! gory Ruin yokes his blood-stained car, +He scents the battle’s carnage from afar; +Hell and Destruction mark his mad career, _75 +He tracks the rapid step of hurrying Fear; +Whilst ruined towns and smoking cities tell, +That thy work, Monarch, is the work of Hell. +‘It is thy work!’ I hear a voice repeat, +Shakes the broad basis of thy bloodstained seat; _80 +And at the orphan’s sigh, the widow’s moan, +Totters the fabric of thy guilt-stained throne— +‘It is thy work, O Monarch;’ now the sound +Fainter and fainter, yet is borne around, +Yet to enthusiast ears the murmurs tell _85 +That Heaven, indignant at the work of Hell, +Will soon the cause, the hated cause remove, +Which tears from earth peace, innocence, and love. + +NOTE: +War: the title is Woodberry’s, 1893; no title, 1810. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT: SUPPOSED TO BE AN EPITHALAMIUM OF FRANCIS RAVAILLAC +AND CHARLOTTE CORDAY. + +’Tis midnight now—athwart the murky air, +Dank lurid meteors shoot a livid gleam; +From the dark storm-clouds flashes a fearful glare, +It shows the bending oak, the roaring stream. + +I pondered on the woes of lost mankind, _5 +I pondered on the ceaseless rage of Kings; +My rapt soul dwelt upon the ties that bind +The mazy volume of commingling things, +When fell and wild misrule to man stern sorrow brings. + +I heard a yell—it was not the knell, _10 +When the blasts on the wild lake sleep, +That floats on the pause of the summer gale’s swell, +O’er the breast of the waveless deep. + +I thought it had been death’s accents cold +That bade me recline on the shore; _15 +I laid mine hot head on the surge-beaten mould, +And thought to breathe no more. + +But a heavenly sleep +That did suddenly steep +In balm my bosom’s pain, _20 +Pervaded my soul, +And free from control, +Did mine intellect range again. + +Methought enthroned upon a silvery cloud, +Which floated mid a strange and brilliant light; _25 +My form upborne by viewless aether rode, +And spurned the lessening realms of earthly night. +What heavenly notes burst on my ravished ears, +What beauteous spirits met my dazzled eye! +Hark! louder swells the music of the spheres, _30 +More clear the forms of speechless bliss float by, +And heavenly gestures suit aethereal melody. + +But fairer than the spirits of the air, +More graceful than the Sylph of symmetry, +Than the enthusiast’s fancied love more fair, _35 +Were the bright forms that swept the azure sky. +Enthroned in roseate light, a heavenly band +Strewed flowers of bliss that never fade away; +They welcome virtue to its native land, +And songs of triumph greet the joyous day _40 +When endless bliss the woes of fleeting life repay. + +Congenial minds will seek their kindred soul, +E’en though the tide of time has rolled between; +They mock weak matter’s impotent control, +And seek of endless life the eternal scene. _45 +At death’s vain summons THIS will never die, +In Nature’s chaos THIS will not decay— +These are the bands which closely, warmly, tie +Thy soul, O Charlotte, ‘yond this chain of clay, +To him who thine must be till time shall fade away. _50 + +Yes, Francis! thine was the dear knife that tore +A tyrant’s heart-strings from his guilty breast, +Thine was the daring at a tyrant’s gore, +To smile in triumph, to contemn the rest; +And thine, loved glory of thy sex! to tear _55 +From its base shrine a despot’s haughty soul, +To laugh at sorrow in secure despair, +To mock, with smiles, life’s lingering control, +And triumph mid the griefs that round thy fate did roll. + +Yes! the fierce spirits of the avenging deep _60 +With endless tortures goad their guilty shades. +I see the lank and ghastly spectres sweep +Along the burning length of yon arcades; +And I see Satan stalk athwart the plain; +He hastes along the burning soil of Hell. _65 +‘Welcome, ye despots, to my dark domain, +With maddening joy mine anguished senses swell +To welcome to their home the friends I love so well.’ + +... + +Hark! to those notes, how sweet, how thrilling sweet +They echo to the sound of angels’ feet. _70 + +... + +Oh haste to the bower where roses are spread, +For there is prepared thy nuptial bed. +Oh haste—hark! hark!—they’re gone. + +... + +CHORUS OF SPIRITS: +Stay, ye days of contentment and joy, +Whilst love every care is erasing, _75 +Stay ye pleasures that never can cloy, +And ye spirits that can never cease pleasing. + +And if any soft passion be near, +Which mortals, frail mortals, can know, +Let love shed on the bosom a tear, _80 +And dissolve the chill ice-drop of woe. + +SYMPHONY. + +FRANCIS: +‘Soft, my dearest angel, stay, +Oh! you suck my soul away; +Suck on, suck on, I glow, I glow! +Tides of maddening passion roll, _85 +And streams of rapture drown my soul. +Now give me one more billing kiss, +Let your lips now repeat the bliss, +Endless kisses steal my breath, +No life can equal such a death.’ _90 + +CHARLOTTE: +‘Oh! yes I will kiss thine eyes so fair, +And I will clasp thy form; +Serene is the breath of the balmy air, +But I think, love, thou feelest me warm +And I will recline on thy marble neck _95 +Till I mingle into thee; +And I will kiss the rose on thy cheek, +And thou shalt give kisses to me. +For here is no morn to flout our delight, +Oh! dost thou not joy at this? _100 +And here we may lie an endless night, +A long, long night of bliss.’ + +Spirits! when raptures move, +Say what it is to love, +When passion’s tear stands on the cheek, _105 +When bursts the unconscious sigh; +And the tremulous lips dare not speak +What is told by the soul-felt eye. +But what is sweeter to revenge’s ear +Than the fell tyrant’s last expiring yell? _110 +Yes! than love’s sweetest blisses ’tis more dear +To drink the floatings of a despot’s knell. +I wake—’tis done—’tis over. + +NOTE: +_66 ye]thou 1810. + +*** + + +DESPAIR. + +And canst thou mock mine agony, thus calm +In cloudless radiance, Queen of silver night? +Can you, ye flow’rets, spread your perfumed balm +Mid pearly gems of dew that shine so bright? +And you wild winds, thus can you sleep so still _5 +Whilst throbs the tempest of my breast so high? +Can the fierce night-fiends rest on yonder hill, +And, in the eternal mansions of the sky, +Can the directors of the storm in powerless silence lie? + +Hark! I hear music on the zephyr’s wing, _10 +Louder it floats along the unruffled sky; +Some fairy sure has touched the viewless string— +Now faint in distant air the murmurs die. +Awhile it stills the tide of agony. +Now—now it loftier swells—again stern woe _15 +Arises with the awakening melody. +Again fierce torments, such as demons know, +In bitterer, feller tide, on this torn bosom flow. + +Arise ye sightless spirits of the storm, +Ye unseen minstrels of the aereal song, _20 +Pour the fierce tide around this lonely form, +And roll the tempest’s wildest swell along. +Dart the red lightning, wing the forked flash, +Pour from thy cloud-formed hills the thunder’s roar; +Arouse the whirlwind—and let ocean dash _25 +In fiercest tumult on the rocking shore,— +Destroy this life or let earth’s fabric be no more. + +Yes! every tie that links me here is dead; +Mysterious Fate, thy mandate I obey, +Since hope and peace, and joy, for aye are fled, _30 +I come, terrific power, I come away. +Then o’er this ruined soul let spirits of Hell, +In triumph, laughing wildly, mock its pain; +And though with direst pangs mine heart-strings swell, +I’ll echo back their deadly yells again, _35 +Cursing the power that ne’er made aught in vain. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT. + +Yes! all is past—swift time has fled away, +Yet its swell pauses on my sickening mind; +How long will horror nerve this frame of clay? +I’m dead, and lingers yet my soul behind. +Oh! powerful Fate, revoke thy deadly spell, _5 +And yet that may not ever, ever be, +Heaven will not smile upon the work of Hell; +Ah! no, for Heaven cannot smile on me; +Fate, envious Fate, has sealed my wayward destiny. + +I sought the cold brink of the midnight surge, _10 +I sighed beneath its wave to hide my woes, +The rising tempest sung a funeral dirge, +And on the blast a frightful yell arose. +Wild flew the meteors o’er the maddened main, +Wilder did grief athwart my bosom glare; _15 +Stilled was the unearthly howling, and a strain, +Swelled mid the tumult of the battling air, +’Twas like a spirit’s song, but yet more soft and fair. + +I met a maniac—like he was to me, +I said—‘Poor victim, wherefore dost thou roam? _20 +And canst thou not contend with agony, +That thus at midnight thou dost quit thine home?’ +‘Ah there she sleeps: cold is her bloodless form, +And I will go to slumber in her grave; +And then our ghosts, whilst raves the maddened storm, _25 +Will sweep at midnight o’er the wildered wave; +Wilt thou our lowly beds with tears of pity lave?’ + +‘Ah! no, I cannot shed the pitying tear, +This breast is cold, this heart can feel no more— +But I can rest me on thy chilling bier, _30 +Can shriek in horror to the tempest’s roar.’ + +*** + + +THE SPECTRAL HORSEMAN. + +What was the shriek that struck Fancy’s ear +As it sate on the ruins of time that is past? +Hark! it floats on the fitful blast of the wind, +And breathes to the pale moon a funeral sigh. +It is the Benshie’s moan on the storm, _5 +Or a shivering fiend that thirsting for sin, +Seeks murder and guilt when virtue sleeps, +Winged with the power of some ruthless king, +And sweeps o’er the breast of the prostrate plain. +It was not a fiend from the regions of Hell _10 +That poured its low moan on the stillness of night: +It was not a ghost of the guilty dead, +Nor a yelling vampire reeking with gore; +But aye at the close of seven years’ end, +That voice is mixed with the swell of the storm, _15 +And aye at the close of seven years’ end, +A shapeless shadow that sleeps on the hill +Awakens and floats on the mist of the heath. +It is not the shade of a murdered man, +Who has rushed uncalled to the throne of his God, _20 +And howls in the pause of the eddying storm. +This voice is low, cold, hollow, and chill, +’Tis not heard by the ear, but is felt in the soul. +’Tis more frightful far than the death-daemon’s scream, +Or the laughter of fiends when they howl o’er the corpse _25 +Of a man who has sold his soul to Hell. +It tells the approach of a mystic form, +A white courser bears the shadowy sprite; +More thin they are than the mists of the mountain, +When the clear moonlight sleeps on the waveless lake. _30 +More pale HIS cheek than the snows of Nithona, +When winter rides on the northern blast, +And howls in the midst of the leafless wood. +Yet when the fierce swell of the tempest is raving, +And the whirlwinds howl in the caves of Inisfallen, _35 +Still secure mid the wildest war of the sky, +The phantom courser scours the waste, +And his rider howls in the thunder’s roar. +O’er him the fierce bolts of avenging Heaven +Pause, as in fear, to strike his head. _40 +The meteors of midnight recoil from his figure, +Yet the ‘wildered peasant, that oft passes by, +With wonder beholds the blue flash through his form: +And his voice, though faint as the sighs of the dead, +The startled passenger shudders to hear, _45 +More distinct than the thunder’s wildest roar. +Then does the dragon, who, chained in the caverns +To eternity, curses the champion of Erin, +Moan and yell loud at the lone hour of midnight, +And twine his vast wreaths round the forms of the daemons; _50 +Then in agony roll his death-swimming eyeballs, +Though ‘wildered by death, yet never to die! +Then he shakes from his skeleton folds the nightmares, +Who, shrieking in agony, seek the couch +Of some fevered wretch who courts sleep in vain; _55 +Then the tombless ghosts of the guilty dead +In horror pause on the fitful gale. +They float on the swell of the eddying tempest, +And scared seek the caves of gigantic... +Where their thin forms pour unearthly sounds _60 +On the blast that sweets the breast of the lake, +And mingles its swell with the moonlight air. + +*** + + +MELODY TO A SCENE OF FORMER TIMES. + +Art thou indeed forever gone, +Forever, ever, lost to me? +Must this poor bosom beat alone, +Or beat at all, if not for thee? +Ah! why was love to mortals given, _5 +To lift them to the height of Heaven, +Or dash them to the depths of Hell? +Yet I do not reproach thee, dear! +Ah, no! the agonies that swell +This panting breast, this frenzied brain, _10 +Might wake my —‘s slumb’ring tear. +Oh! Heaven is witness I did love, +And Heaven does know I love thee still, +Does know the fruitless sick’ning thrill, +When reason’s judgement vainly strove _15 +To blot thee from my memory; +But which might never, never be. +Oh! I appeal to that blest day +When passion’s wildest ecstasy +Was coldness to the joys I knew, _20 +When every sorrow sunk away. +Oh! I had never lived before, +But now those blisses are no more. +And now I cease to live again, +I do not blame thee, love; ah, no! _25 +The breast that feels this anguished woe. +Throbs for thy happiness alone. +Two years of speechless bliss are gone, +I thank thee, dearest, for the dream. +’Tis night—what faint and distant scream _30 +Comes on the wild and fitful blast? +It moans for pleasures that are past, +It moans for days that are gone by. +Oh! lagging hours, how slow you fly! +I see a dark and lengthened vale, _35 +The black view closes with the tomb; +But darker is the lowering gloom +That shades the intervening dale. +In visioned slumber for awhile +I seem again to share thy smile, _40 +I seem to hang upon thy tone. +Again you say, ‘Confide in me, +For I am thine, and thine alone, +And thine must ever, ever be.’ +But oh! awak’ning still anew, _45 +Athwart my enanguished senses flew +A fiercer, deadlier agony! + +[End of “Posthumous Fragments of Margaret Nicholson”.] + +*** + + +STANZA FROM A TRANSLATION OF THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN. + +[Published by Forman, “Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1876; dated 1810.] + +Tremble, Kings despised of man! +Ye traitors to your Country, +Tremble! Your parricidal plan +At length shall meet its destiny... +We all are soldiers fit to fight, _5 +But if we sink in glory’s night +Our mother Earth will give ye new +The brilliant pathway to pursue +Which leads to Death or Victory... + +*** + + +BIGOTRY’S VICTIM. + +[Published (without title) by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; dated +1809-10. The title is Rossetti’s (1870).] + +1. +Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind, +The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair? +When the tiger approaches can the fast-fleeting hind +Repose trust in his footsteps of air? +No! Abandoned he sinks in a trance of despair, _5 +The monster transfixes his prey, +On the sand flows his life-blood away; +Whilst India’s rocks to his death-yells reply, +Protracting the horrible harmony. + +2. +Yet the fowl of the desert, when danger encroaches, _10 +Dares fearless to perish defending her brood, +Though the fiercest of cloud-piercing tyrants approaches +Thirsting—ay, thirsting for blood; +And demands, like mankind, his brother for food; +Yet more lenient, more gentle than they; _15 +For hunger, not glory, the prey +Must perish. Revenge does not howl in the dead. +Nor ambition with fame crown the murderer’s head. + +3. +Though weak as the lama that bounds on the mountains, +And endued not with fast-fleeting footsteps of air, _20 +Yet, yet will I draw from the purest of fountains, +Though a fiercer than tiger is there. +Though, more dreadful than death, it scatters despair, +Though its shadow eclipses the day, +And the darkness of deepest dismay _25 +Spreads the influence of soul-chilling terror around, +And lowers on the corpses, that rot on the ground. + +4. +They came to the fountain to draw from its stream +Waves too pure, too celestial, for mortals to see; +They bathed for awhile in its silvery beam, _30 +Then perished, and perished like me. +For in vain from the grasp of the Bigot I flee; +The most tenderly loved of my soul +Are slaves to his hated control. +He pursues me, he blasts me! ’Tis in vain that I fly: _35 - +What remains, but to curse him,—to curse him and die? + +*** + + +ON AN ICICLE THAT CLUNG TO THE GRASS OF A GRAVE. + +[Published (without title) by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; dated +1809-10. The poem, with title as above, is included in the Esdaile +manuscript book.] + +1. +Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes, +Waft repose to some bosom as faithful as fair, +In which the warm current of love never freezes, +As it rises unmingled with selfishness there, +Which, untainted by pride, unpolluted by care, _5 +Might dissolve the dim icedrop, might bid it arise, +Too pure for these regions, to gleam in the skies. + +2. +Or where the stern warrior, his country defending, +Dares fearless the dark-rolling battle to pour, +Or o’er the fell corpse of a dread tyrant bending, _10 +Where patriotism red with his guilt-reeking gore +Plants Liberty’s flag on the slave-peopled shore, +With victory’s cry, with the shout of the free, +Let it fly, taintless Spirit, to mingle with thee. + +3. +For I found the pure gem, when the daybeam returning, _15 +Ineffectual gleams on the snow-covered plain, +When to others the wished-for arrival of morning +Brings relief to long visions of soul-racking pain; +But regret is an insult—to grieve is in vain: +And why should we grieve that a spirit so fair _20 +Seeks Heaven to mix with its own kindred there? + +4. +But still ’twas some Spirit of kindness descending +To share in the load of mortality’s woe, +Who over thy lowly-built sepulchre bending +Bade sympathy’s tenderest teardrop to flow. _25 +Not for THEE soft compassion celestials did know, +But if ANGELS can weep, sure MAN may repine, +May weep in mute grief o’er thy low-laid shrine. + +5. +And did I then say, for the altar of glory, +That the earliest, the loveliest of flowers I’d entwine, _30 +Though with millions of blood-reeking victims ’twas gory, +Though the tears of the widow polluted its shrine, +Though around it the orphans, the fatherless pine? +Oh! Fame, all thy glories I’d yield for a tear +To shed on the grave of a heart so sincere. _35 + +*** + + +LOVE. + +[Published (without title) by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; dated 1811. +The title is Rossetti’s (1870).] + +Why is it said thou canst not live +In a youthful breast and fair, +Since thou eternal life canst give, +Canst bloom for ever there? +Since withering pain no power possessed, _5 +Nor age, to blanch thy vermeil hue, +Nor time’s dread victor, death, confessed, +Though bathed with his poison dew, +Still thou retain’st unchanging bloom, +Fixed tranquil, even in the tomb. _10 +And oh! when on the blest, reviving, +The day-star dawns of love, +Each energy of soul surviving +More vivid, soars above, +Hast thou ne’er felt a rapturous thrill, _15 +Like June’s warm breath, athwart thee fly, +O’er each idea then to steal, +When other passions die? +Felt it in some wild noonday dream, +When sitting by the lonely stream, _20 +Where Silence says, ‘Mine is the dell’; +And not a murmur from the plain, +And not an echo from the fell, +Disputes her silent reign. + +*** + + +ON A FETE AT CARLTON HOUSE: FRAGMENT. + +[Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870; +dated 1811.] + +By the mossy brink, +With me the Prince shall sit and think; +Shall muse in visioned Regency, +Rapt in bright dreams of dawning Royalty. + +*** + + +TO A STAR. + +[Published (without title) by Hogg, “Life of Shelley”, 1858; dated 1811. +The title is Rossetti’s (1870).] + +Sweet star, which gleaming o’er the darksome scene +Through fleecy clouds of silvery radiance fliest, +Spanglet of light on evening’s shadowy veil, +Which shrouds the day-beam from the waveless lake, +Lighting the hour of sacred love; more sweet _5 +Than the expiring morn-star’s paly fires:— +Sweet star! When wearied Nature sinks to sleep, +And all is hushed,—all, save the voice of Love, +Whose broken murmurings swell the balmy blast +Of soft Favonius, which at intervals _10 +Sighs in the ear of stillness, art thou aught but +Lulling the slaves of interest to repose +With that mild, pitying gaze? Oh, I would look +In thy dear beam till every bond of sense +Became enamoured— _15 + +*** + + +TO MARY WHO DIED IN THIS OPINION. + +[Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870; +dated 1810-11.] + +1. +Maiden, quench the glare of sorrow +Struggling in thine haggard eye: +Firmness dare to borrow +From the wreck of destiny; +For the ray morn’s bloom revealing _5 +Can never boast so bright an hue +As that which mocks concealing, +And sheds its loveliest light on you. + +2. +Yet is the tie departed +Which bound thy lovely soul to bliss? _10 +Has it left thee broken-hearted +In a world so cold as this? +Yet, though, fainting fair one, +Sorrow’s self thy cup has given, +Dream thou’lt meet thy dear one, +Never more to part, in Heaven. _15 + +3. +Existence would I barter +For a dream so dear as thine, +And smile to die a martyr +On affection’s bloodless shrine. _20 +Nor would I change for pleasure +That withered hand and ashy cheek, +If my heart enshrined a treasure +Such as forces thine to break. + +*** + + +A TALE OF SOCIETY AS IT IS: FROM FACTS, 1811. + +[Published (from Esdaile manuscript with title as above) by Rossetti, +“Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870. Rossetti’s title is “Mother +and Son”.] + +1. +She was an aged woman; and the years +Which she had numbered on her toilsome way +Had bowed her natural powers to decay. +She was an aged woman; yet the ray +Which faintly glimmered through her starting tears, _5 +Pressed into light by silent misery, +Hath soul’s imperishable energy. +She was a cripple, and incapable +To add one mite to gold-fed luxury: +And therefore did her spirit dimly feel _10 +That poverty, the crime of tainting stain, +Would merge her in its depths, never to rise again. + +2. +One only son’s love had supported her. +She long had struggled with infirmity, +Lingering to human life-scenes; for to die, _15 +When fate has spared to rend some mental tie, +Would many wish, and surely fewer dare. +But, when the tyrant’s bloodhounds forced the child +For his cursed power unhallowed arms to wield— +Bend to another’s will—become a thing _20 +More senseless than the sword of battlefield— +Then did she feel keen sorrow’s keenest sting; +And many years had passed ere comfort they would bring. + +3. +For seven years did this poor woman live +In unparticipated solitude. _25 +Thou mightst have seen her in the forest rude +Picking the scattered remnants of its wood. +If human, thou mightst then have learned to grieve. +The gleanings of precarious charity +Her scantiness of food did scarce supply. _30 +The proofs of an unspeaking sorrow dwelt +Within her ghastly hollowness of eye: +Each arrow of the season’s change she felt. +Yet still she groans, ere yet her race were run, +One only hope: it was—once more to see her son. _35 + +4. +It was an eve of June, when every star +Spoke peace from Heaven to those on earth that live. +She rested on the moor. ’Twas such an eve +When first her soul began indeed to grieve: +Then he was here; now he is very far. _40 +The sweetness of the balmy evening +A sorrow o’er her aged soul did fling, +Yet not devoid of rapture’s mingled tear: +A balm was in the poison of the sting. +This aged sufferer for many a year _45 +Had never felt such comfort. She suppressed +A sigh—and turning round, clasped William to her breast! + +5. +And, though his form was wasted by the woe +Which tyrants on their victims love to wreak, +Though his sunk eyeballs and his faded cheek _50 +Of slavery’s violence and scorn did speak, +Yet did the aged woman’s bosom glow. +The vital fire seemed re-illumed within +By this sweet unexpected welcoming. +Oh, consummation of the fondest hope _55 +That ever soared on Fancy’s wildest wing! +Oh, tenderness that foundst so sweet a scope! +Prince who dost pride thee on thy mighty sway, +When THOU canst feel such love, thou shalt be great as they! + +6. +Her son, compelled, the country’s foes had fought, _60 +Had bled in battle; and the stern control +Which ruled his sinews and coerced his soul +Utterly poisoned life’s unmingled bowl, +And unsubduable evils on him brought. +He was the shadow of the lusty child _65 +Who, when the time of summer season smiled, +Did earn for her a meal of honesty, +And with affectionate discourse beguiled +The keen attacks of pain and poverty; +Till Power, as envying her this only joy, _70 +From her maternal bosom tore the unhappy boy. + +7. +And now cold charity’s unwelcome dole +Was insufficient to support the pair; +And they would perish rather than would bear +The law’s stern slavery, and the insolent stare _75 +With which law loves to rend the poor man’s soul— +The bitter scorn, the spirit-sinking noise +Of heartless mirth which women, men, and boys +Wake in this scene of legal misery. + +... + +NOTES: +_28 grieve Esdaile manuscript; feel, 1870. +_37 to those on earth that live Esdaile manuscripts; omitted, 1870. + +*** + + +TO THE REPUBLICANS OF NORTH AMERICA. + +[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript with title as above) by +Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870; dated 1812. +Rossetti’s title is “The Mexican Revolution”.] + +1. +Brothers! between you and me +Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar: +Yet in spirit oft I see +On thy wild and winding shore +Freedom’s bloodless banners wave,— _5 +Feel the pulses of the brave +Unextinguished in the grave,— +See them drenched in sacred gore,— +Catch the warrior’s gasping breath +Murmuring ‘Liberty or death!’ _10 + +2. +Shout aloud! Let every slave, +Crouching at Corruption’s throne, +Start into a man, and brave +Racks and chains without a groan: +And the castle’s heartless glow, _15 +And the hovel’s vice and woe, +Fade like gaudy flowers that blow— +Weeds that peep, and then are gone +Whilst, from misery’s ashes risen, +Love shall burst the captive’s prison. _20 + +3. +Cotopaxi! bid the sound +Through thy sister mountains ring, +Till each valley smile around +At the blissful welcoming! +And, O thou stern Ocean deep, _25 +Thou whose foamy billows sweep +Shores where thousands wake to weep +Whilst they curse a villain king, +On the winds that fan thy breast +Bear thou news of Freedom’s rest! _30 + +4. +Can the daystar dawn of love, +Where the flag of war unfurled +Floats with crimson stain above +The fabric of a ruined world? +Never but to vengeance driven _35 +When the patriot’s spirit shriven +Seeks in death its native Heaven! +There, to desolation hurled, +Widowed love may watch thy bier, +Balm thee with its dying tear. _40 + +*** + + +TO IRELAND. + +[Published, 1-10, by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, +1870; 11-17, 25-28, by Dowden, “Life of Shelley”, 1887; 18-24 by +Kingsland, “Poet-Lore”, July, 1892. Dated 1812.] + +1. +Bear witness, Erin! when thine injured isle +Sees summer on its verdant pastures smile, +Its cornfields waving in the winds that sweep +The billowy surface of thy circling deep! +Thou tree whose shadow o’er the Atlantic gave _5 +Peace, wealth and beauty, to its friendly wave, its blossoms fade, +And blighted are the leaves that cast its shade; +Whilst the cold hand gathers its scanty fruit, +Whose chillness struck a canker to its root. _10 + +2. +I could stand +Upon thy shores, O Erin, and could count +The billows that, in their unceasing swell, +Dash on thy beach, and every wave might seem +An instrument in Time the giant’s grasp, _15 +To burst the barriers of Eternity. +Proceed, thou giant, conquering and to conquer; +March on thy lonely way! The nations fall +Beneath thy noiseless footstep; pyramids +That for millenniums have defied the blast, _20 +And laughed at lightnings, thou dost crush to nought. +Yon monarch, in his solitary pomp, +Is but the fungus of a winter day +That thy light footstep presses into dust. +Thou art a conqueror, Time; all things give way _25 +Before thee but the ‘fixed and virtuous will’; +The sacred sympathy of soul which was +When thou wert not, which shall be when thou perishest. + +... + +*** + + +ON ROBERT EMMET’S GRAVE. + +[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887; dated 1812.] + +... + +6. +No trump tells thy virtues—the grave where they rest +With thy dust shall remain unpolluted by fame, +Till thy foes, by the world and by fortune caressed, +Shall pass like a mist from the light of thy name. + +7. +When the storm-cloud that lowers o’er the day-beam is gone, _5 +Unchanged, unextinguished its life-spring will shine; +When Erin has ceased with their memory to groan, +She will smile through the tears of revival on thine. + +*** + + +THE RETROSPECT: CWM ELAN, 1812. + +[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887.] + +A scene, which ‘wildered fancy viewed +In the soul’s coldest solitude, +With that same scene when peaceful love +Flings rapture’s colour o’er the grove, +When mountain, meadow, wood and stream _5 +With unalloying glory gleam, +And to the spirit’s ear and eye +Are unison and harmony. +The moonlight was my dearer day; +Then would I wander far away, _10 +And, lingering on the wild brook’s shore +To hear its unremitting roar, +Would lose in the ideal flow +All sense of overwhelming woe; +Or at the noiseless noon of night _15 +Would climb some heathy mountain’s height, +And listen to the mystic sound +That stole in fitful gasps around. +I joyed to see the streaks of day +Above the purple peaks decay, _20 +And watch the latest line of light +Just mingling with the shades of night; +For day with me was time of woe +When even tears refused to flow; +Then would I stretch my languid frame _25 +Beneath the wild woods’ gloomiest shade, +And try to quench the ceaseless flame +That on my withered vitals preyed; +Would close mine eyes and dream I were +On some remote and friendless plain, _30 +And long to leave existence there, +If with it I might leave the pain +That with a finger cold and lean +Wrote madness on my withering mien. + +It was not unrequited love _35 +That bade my ‘wildered spirit rove; +’Twas not the pride disdaining life, +That with this mortal world at strife +Would yield to the soul’s inward sense, +Then groan in human impotence, _40 +And weep because it is not given +To taste on Earth the peace of Heaven. +’Twas not that in the narrow sphere +Where Nature fixed my wayward fate +There was no friend or kindred dear _45 +Formed to become that spirit’s mate, +Which, searching on tired pinion, found +Barren and cold repulse around; +Oh, no! yet each one sorrow gave +New graces to the narrow grave. _50 +For broken vows had early quelled +The stainless spirit’s vestal flame; +Yes! whilst the faithful bosom swelled, +Then the envenomed arrow came, +And Apathy’s unaltering eye _55 +Beamed coldness on the misery; +And early I had learned to scorn +The chains of clay that bound a soul +Panting to seize the wings of morn, +And where its vital fires were born _60 +To soar, and spur the cold control +Which the vile slaves of earthly night +Would twine around its struggling flight. + +Oh, many were the friends whom fame +Had linked with the unmeaning name, _65 +Whose magic marked among mankind +The casket of my unknown mind, +Which hidden from the vulgar glare +Imbibed no fleeting radiance there. +My darksome spirit sought—it found _70 +A friendless solitude around. +For who that might undaunted stand, +The saviour of a sinking land, +Would crawl, its ruthless tyrant’s slave, +And fatten upon Freedom’s grave, _75 +Though doomed with her to perish, where +The captive clasps abhorred despair. + +They could not share the bosom’s feeling, +Which, passion’s every throb revealing, +Dared force on the world’s notice cold _80 +Thoughts of unprofitable mould, +Who bask in Custom’s fickle ray, +Fit sunshine of such wintry day! +They could not in a twilight walk +Weave an impassioned web of talk, _85 +Till mysteries the spirits press +In wild yet tender awfulness, +Then feel within our narrow sphere +How little yet how great we are! +But they might shine in courtly glare, _90 +Attract the rabble’s cheapest stare, +And might command where’er they move +A thing that bears the name of love; +They might be learned, witty, gay, +Foremost in fashion’s gilt array, _95 +On Fame’s emblazoned pages shine, +Be princes’ friends, but never mine! + +Ye jagged peaks that frown sublime, +Mocking the blunted scythe of Time, +Whence I would watch its lustre pale _100 +Steal from the moon o’er yonder vale +Thou rock, whose bosom black and vast, +Bared to the stream’s unceasing flow, +Ever its giant shade doth cast +On the tumultuous surge below: _105 + +Woods, to whose depths retires to die +The wounded Echo’s melody, +And whither this lone spirit bent +The footstep of a wild intent: + +Meadows! whose green and spangled breast _110 +These fevered limbs have often pressed, +Until the watchful fiend Despair +Slept in the soothing coolness there! +Have not your varied beauties seen +The sunken eye, the withering mien, _115 +Sad traces of the unuttered pain +That froze my heart and burned my brain. +How changed since Nature’s summer form +Had last the power my grief to charm, +Since last ye soothed my spirit’s sadness, _120 +Strange chaos of a mingled madness! +Changed!—not the loathsome worm that fed +In the dark mansions of the dead, +Now soaring through the fields of air, +And gathering purest nectar there, _125 +A butterfly, whose million hues +The dazzled eye of wonder views, +Long lingering on a work so strange, +Has undergone so bright a change. +How do I feel my happiness? _130 +I cannot tell, but they may guess +Whose every gloomy feeling gone, +Friendship and passion feel alone; +Who see mortality’s dull clouds +Before affection’s murmur fly, _135 +Whilst the mild glances of her eye +Pierce the thin veil of flesh that shrouds +The spirit’s inmost sanctuary. +O thou! whose virtues latest known, +First in this heart yet claim’st a throne; _140 +Whose downy sceptre still shall share +The gentle sway with virtue there; +Thou fair in form, and pure in mind, +Whose ardent friendship rivets fast +The flowery band our fates that bind, _145 +Which incorruptible shall last +When duty’s hard and cold control +Has thawed around the burning soul,— +The gloomiest retrospects that bind +With crowns of thorn the bleeding mind, _150 +The prospects of most doubtful hue +That rise on Fancy’s shuddering view,— +Are gilt by the reviving ray +Which thou hast flung upon my day. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT OF A SONNET. + +TO HARRIET. + +[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887; dated August 1, 1812.] + +Ever as now with Love and Virtue’s glow +May thy unwithering soul not cease to burn, +Still may thine heart with those pure thoughts o’erflow +Which force from mine such quick and warm return. + +*** + + +TO HARRIET. + +[Published, 5-13, by Forman, “Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1876; +58-69, by Shelley, “Notes to Queen Mab”, 1813; +and entire (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887; dated 1812.] + +It is not blasphemy to hope that Heaven +More perfectly will give those nameless joys +Which throb within the pulses of the blood +And sweeten all that bitterness which Earth +Infuses in the heaven-born soul. O thou _5 +Whose dear love gleamed upon the gloomy path +Which this lone spirit travelled, drear and cold, +Yet swiftly leading to those awful limits +Which mark the bounds of Time and of the space +When Time shall be no more; wilt thou not turn _10 +Those spirit-beaming eyes and look on me, +Until I be assured that Earth is Heaven, +And Heaven is Earth?—will not thy glowing cheek, +Glowing with soft suffusion, rest on mine, +And breathe magnetic sweetness through the frame _15 +Of my corporeal nature, through the soul +Now knit with these fine fibres? I would give +The longest and the happiest day that fate +Has marked on my existence but to feel +ONE soul-reviving kiss...O thou most dear, _20 +’Tis an assurance that this Earth is Heaven, +And Heaven the flower of that untainted seed +Which springeth here beneath such love as ours. +Harriet! let death all mortal ties dissolve, +But ours shall not be mortal! The cold hand _25 +Of Time may chill the love of earthly minds +Half frozen now; the frigid intercourse +Of common souls lives but a summer’s day; +It dies, where it arose, upon this earth. +But ours! oh, ’tis the stretch of Fancy’s hope _30 +To portray its continuance as now, +Warm, tranquil, spirit-healing; nor when age +Has tempered these wild ecstasies, and given +A soberer tinge to the luxurious glow +Which blazing on devotion’s pinnacle _35 +Makes virtuous passion supersede the power +Of reason; nor when life’s aestival sun +To deeper manhood shall have ripened me; +Nor when some years have added judgement’s store +To all thy woman sweetness, all the fire _40 +Which throbs in thine enthusiast heart; not then +Shall holy friendship (for what other name +May love like ours assume?), not even then +Shall Custom so corrupt, or the cold forms +Of this desolate world so harden us, _45 +As when we think of the dear love that binds +Our souls in soft communion, while we know +Each other’s thoughts and feelings, can we say +Unblushingly a heartless compliment, +Praise, hate, or love with the unthinking world, _50 +Or dare to cut the unrelaxing nerve +That knits our love to virtue. Can those eyes, +Beaming with mildest radiance on my heart +To purify its purity, e’er bend +To soothe its vice or consecrate its fears? _55 +Never, thou second Self! Is confidence +So vain in virtue that I learn to doubt +The mirror even of Truth? Dark flood of Time, +Roll as it listeth thee; I measure not +By month or moments thy ambiguous course. _60 +Another may stand by me on thy brink,, +And watch the bubble whirled beyond his ken, +Which pauses at my feet. The sense of love, +The thirst for action, and the impassioned thought +Prolong my being; if I wake no more, _65 +My life more actual living will contain +Than some gray veteran’s of the world’s cold school, +Whose listless hours unprofitably roll +By one enthusiast feeling unredeemed, +Virtue and Love! unbending Fortitude, _70 +Freedom, Devotedness and Purity! +That life my Spirit consecrates to you. + +*** + + +SONNET. + +TO A BALLOON LADEN WITH KNOWLEDGE. + +[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887; dated August, 1812.] + +Bright ball of flame that through the gloom of even +Silently takest thine aethereal way, +And with surpassing glory dimm’st each ray +Twinkling amid the dark blue depths of Heaven,— +Unlike the fire thou bearest, soon shalt thou _5 +Fade like a meteor in surrounding gloom, +Whilst that, unquenchable, is doomed to glow +A watch-light by the patriot’s lonely tomb; +A ray of courage to the oppressed and poor; +A spark, though gleaming on the hovel’s hearth, _10 +Which through the tyrant’s gilded domes shall roar; +A beacon in the darkness of the Earth; +A sun which, o’er the renovated scene, +Shall dart like Truth where Falsehood yet has been. + +*** + + +SONNET. + +ON LAUNCHING SOME BOTTLES FILLED WITH KNOWLEDGE INTO THE BRISTOL CHANNEL. + +[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887; dated August, 1812.] + +Vessels of heavenly medicine! may the breeze +Auspicious waft your dark green forms to shore; +Safe may ye stem the wide surrounding roar +Of the wild whirlwinds and the raging seas; +And oh! if Liberty e’er deigned to stoop _5 +From yonder lowly throne her crownless brow, +Sure she will breathe around your emerald group +The fairest breezes of her West that blow. +Yes! she will waft ye to some freeborn soul +Whose eye-beam, kindling as it meets your freight, _10 +Her heaven-born flame in suffering Earth will light, +Until its radiance gleams from pole to pole, +And tyrant-hearts with powerless envy burst +To see their night of ignorance dispersed. + +*** + + +THE DEVIL’S WALK. + +A BALLAD. + +[Published as a broadside by Shelley, 1812.] + +1. +Once, early in the morning, Beelzebub arose, +With care his sweet person adorning, +He put on his Sunday clothes. + +2. +He drew on a boot to hide his hoof, _5 +He drew on a glove to hide his claw, +His horns were concealed by a Bras Chapeau, +And the Devil went forth as natty a Beau +As Bond-street ever saw. + +3. +He sate him down, in London town, _10 +Before earth’s morning ray; +With a favourite imp he began to chat, +On religion, and scandal, this and that, +Until the dawn of day. + +4. +And then to St. James’s Court he went, _15 +And St. Paul’s Church he took on his way; +He was mighty thick with every Saint, +Though they were formal and he was gay. + +5. +The Devil was an agriculturist, +And as bad weeds quickly grow, _20 +In looking over his farm, I wist, +He wouldn’t find cause for woe. + +6. +He peeped in each hole, to each chamber stole, +His promising live-stock to view; +Grinning applause, he just showed them his claws, _25 +And they shrunk with affright from his ugly sight, +Whose work they delighted to do. + +7. +Satan poked his red nose into crannies so small +One would think that the innocents fair, +Poor lambkins! were just doing nothing at all _30 +But settling some dress or arranging some ball, +But the Devil saw deeper there. + +8. +A Priest, at whose elbow the Devil during prayer +Sate familiarly, side by side, +Declared that, if the Tempter were there, _35 +His presence he would not abide. +Ah! ah! thought Old Nick, that’s a very stale trick, +For without the Devil, O favourite of Evil, +In your carriage you would not ride. + +9. +Satan next saw a brainless King, _40 +Whose house was as hot as his own; +Many Imps in attendance were there on the wing, +They flapped the pennon and twisted the sting, +Close by the very Throne. + +10. +Ah! ah! thought Satan, the pasture is good, _45 +My Cattle will here thrive better than others; +They dine on news of human blood, +They sup on the groans of the dying and dead, +And supperless never will go to bed; +Which will make them fat as their brothers. _50 + +11. +Fat as the Fiends that feed on blood, +Fresh and warm from the fields of Spain, +Where Ruin ploughs her gory way, +Where the shoots of earth are nipped in the bud, +Where Hell is the Victor’s prey, _55 +Its glory the meed of the slain. + +12. +Fat—as the Death-birds on Erin’s shore, +That glutted themselves in her dearest gore, +And flitted round Castlereagh, +When they snatched the Patriot’s heart, that HIS grasp _60 +Had torn from its widow’s maniac clasp, +—And fled at the dawn of day. + +13. +Fat—as the Reptiles of the tomb, +That riot in corruption’s spoil, +That fret their little hour in gloom, _65 +And creep, and live the while. + +14. +Fat as that Prince’s maudlin brain, +Which, addled by some gilded toy, +Tired, gives his sweetmeat, and again +Cries for it, like a humoured boy. _70 + +15. +For he is fat,—his waistcoat gay, +When strained upon a levee day, +Scarce meets across his princely paunch; +And pantaloons are like half-moons +Upon each brawny haunch. _75 + +16. +How vast his stock of calf! when plenty +Had filled his empty head and heart, +Enough to satiate foplings twenty, +Could make his pantaloon seams start. + +17. +The Devil (who sometimes is called Nature), _80 +For men of power provides thus well, +Whilst every change and every feature, +Their great original can tell. + +18. +Satan saw a lawyer a viper slay, +That crawled up the leg of his table, _85 +It reminded him most marvellously +Of the story of Cain and Abel. + +19. +The wealthy yeoman, as he wanders +His fertile fields among, +And on his thriving cattle ponders, _90 +Counts his sure gains, and hums a song; +Thus did the Devil, through earth walking, +Hum low a hellish song. + +20. +For they thrive well whose garb of gore +Is Satan’s choicest livery, _95 +And they thrive well who from the poor +Have snatched the bread of penury, +And heap the houseless wanderer’s store +On the rank pile of luxury. + +21. +The Bishops thrive, though they are big; _100 +The Lawyers thrive, though they are thin; +For every gown, and every wig, +Hides the safe thrift of Hell within. + +22. +Thus pigs were never counted clean, +Although they dine on finest corn; _105 +And cormorants are sin-like lean, +Although they eat from night to morn. + +23. +Oh! why is the Father of Hell in such glee, +As he grins from ear to ear? +Why does he doff his clothes joyfully, _110 +As he skips, and prances, and flaps his wing, +As he sidles, leers, and twirls his sting, +And dares, as he is, to appear? + +24. +A statesman passed—alone to him, +The Devil dare his whole shape uncover, _115 +To show each feature, every limb, +Secure of an unchanging lover. + +25. +At this known sign, a welcome sight, +The watchful demons sought their King, +And every Fiend of the Stygian night, _120 +Was in an instant on the wing. + +26. +Pale Loyalty, his guilt-steeled brow, +With wreaths of gory laurel crowned: +The hell-hounds, Murder, Want and Woe, +Forever hungering, flocked around; _125 +From Spain had Satan sought their food, +’Twas human woe and human blood! + +27. +Hark! the earthquake’s crash I hear,— +Kings turn pale, and Conquerors start, +Ruffians tremble in their fear, _130 +For their Satan doth depart. + +28. +This day Fiends give to revelry +To celebrate their King’s return, +And with delight its Sire to see +Hell’s adamantine limits burn. _135 + +29. +But were the Devil’s sight as keen +As Reason’s penetrating eye, +His sulphurous Majesty I ween, +Would find but little cause for joy. + +30. +For the sons of Reason see _140 +That, ere fate consume the Pole, +The false Tyrant’s cheek shall be +Bloodless as his coward soul. + +NOTE: +_55 Where cj. Rossetti; When 1812. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT OF A SONNET. + +FAREWELL TO NORTH DEVON. + +[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887; dated August, 1812.] + +Where man’s profane and tainting hand +Nature’s primaeval loveliness has marred, +And some few souls of the high bliss debarred +Which else obey her powerful command; +...mountain piles _5 +That load in grandeur Cambria’s emerald vales. + +*** + + +ON LEAVING LONDON FOR WALES. + +[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Dowden, +“Life of Shelley”, 1887; dated November, 1812.] + +Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind +Which from thy wilds even now methinks I feel, +Chasing the clouds that roll in wrath behind, +And tightening the soul’s laxest nerves to steel; +True mountain Liberty alone may heal _5 +The pain which Custom’s obduracies bring, +And he who dares in fancy even to steal +One draught from Snowdon’s ever sacred spring +Blots out the unholiest rede of worldly witnessing. + +And shall that soul, to selfish peace resigned, _10 +So soon forget the woe its fellows share? +Can Snowdon’s Lethe from the free-born mind +So soon the page of injured penury tear? +Does this fine mass of human passion dare +To sleep, unhonouring the patriot’s fall, _15 +Or life’s sweet load in quietude to bear +While millions famish even in Luxury’s hall, +And Tyranny, high raised, stern lowers on all? + +No, Cambria! never may thy matchless vales +A heart so false to hope and virtue shield; _20 +Nor ever may thy spirit-breathing gales +Waft freshness to the slaves who dare to yield. +For me!...the weapon that I burn to wield +I seek amid thy rocks to ruin hurled, +That Reason’s flag may over Freedom’s field, _25 +Symbol of bloodless victory, wave unfurled, +A meteor-sign of love effulgent o’er the world. + +... + +Do thou, wild Cambria, calm each struggling thought; +Cast thy sweet veil of rocks and woods between, +That by the soul to indignation wrought _30 +Mountains and dells be mingled with the scene; +Let me forever be what I have been, +But not forever at my needy door +Let Misery linger speechless, pale and lean; +I am the friend of the unfriended poor,— _35 +Let me not madly stain their righteous cause in gore. + +*** + + +THE WANDERING JEW’S SOLILOQUY. + +[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Bertram Dobell, 1887.] + +Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He +Who dares arrest the wheels of destiny +And plunge me in the lowest Hell of Hells? +Will not the lightning’s blast destroy my frame? +Will not steel drink the blood-life where it swells? _5 +No—let me hie where dark Destruction dwells, +To rouse her from her deeply caverned lair, +And, taunting her cursed sluggishness to ire, +Light long Oblivion’s death-torch at its flame +And calmly mount Annihilation’s pyre. _10 +Tyrant of Earth! pale Misery’s jackal Thou! +Are there no stores of vengeful violent fate +Within the magazines of Thy fierce hate? +No poison in the clouds to bathe a brow +That lowers on Thee with desperate contempt? _15 +Where is the noonday Pestilence that slew +The myriad sons of Israel’s favoured nation? +Where the destroying Minister that flew +Pouring the fiery tide of desolation +Upon the leagued Assyrian’s attempt? _20 +Where the dark Earthquake-daemon who engorged +At the dread word Korah’s unconscious crew? +Or the Angel’s two-edged sword of fire that urged +Our primal parents from their bower of bliss +(Reared by Thine hand) for errors not their own _25 +By Thine omniscient mind foredoomed, foreknown? +Yes! I would court a ruin such as this, +Almighty Tyrant! and give thanks to Thee— +Drink deeply—drain the cup of hate; remit this—I may die. + +*** + + +EVENING. + +TO HARRIET. + +[Published by Dowden, “Life of Shelley”, 1887. Composed July 31, 1813.] + +O thou bright Sun! beneath the dark blue line +Of western distance that sublime descendest, +And, gleaming lovelier as thy beams decline, +Thy million hues to every vapour lendest, +And, over cobweb lawn and grove and stream _5 +Sheddest the liquid magic of thy light, +Till calm Earth, with the parting splendour bright, +Shows like the vision of a beauteous dream; +What gazer now with astronomic eye +Could coldly count the spots within thy sphere? _10 +Such were thy lover, Harriet, could he fly +The thoughts of all that makes his passion dear, +And, turning senseless from thy warm caress,— +Pick flaws in our close-woven happiness. + +*** + + +TO IANTHE. + +[Published by Dowden, “Life of Shelley”, 1887. Composed September, 1813.] + +I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake; +Those azure eyes, that faintly dimpled cheek, +Thy tender frame, so eloquently weak, +Love in the sternest heart of hate might wake; +But more when o’er thy fitful slumber bending _5 +Thy mother folds thee to her wakeful heart, +Whilst love and pity, in her glances blending, +All that thy passive eyes can feel impart: +More, when some feeble lineaments of her, +Who bore thy weight beneath her spotless bosom, _10 +As with deep love I read thy face, recur,— +More dear art thou, O fair and fragile blossom; +Dearest when most thy tender traits express +The image of thy mother’s loveliness. + +*** + + +SONG FROM THE WANDERING JEW. + +[Published as Shelley’s by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847, 1 page 58.] + +See yon opening flower +Spreads its fragrance to the blast; +It fades within an hour, +Its decay is pale—is fast. +Paler is yon maiden; _5 +Faster is her heart’s decay; +Deep with sorrow laden, +She sinks in death away. + +*** + + +FRAGMENT FROM THE WANDERING JEW. + +[Published as Shelley’s by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847, 1 page 56.] + +The Elements respect their Maker’s seal! +Still Like the scathed pine tree’s height, +Braving the tempests of the night +Have I ‘scaped the flickering flame. +Like the scathed pine, which a monument stands _5 +Of faded grandeur, which the brands +Of the tempest-shaken air +Have riven on the desolate heath; +Yet it stands majestic even in death, +And rears its wild form there. _10, + +*** + + +TO THE QUEEN OF MY HEART. + +[Published as Shelley’s by Medwin, “The Shelley Papers”, 1833, and by +Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition; afterwards suppressed +as of doubtful authenticity.] + +1. +Shall we roam, my love, +To the twilight grove, +When the moon is rising bright; +Oh, I’ll whisper there, +In the cool night-air, _5 +What I dare not in broad daylight! + +2. +I’ll tell thee a part +Of the thoughts that start +To being when thou art nigh; +And thy beauty, more bright _10 +Than the stars’ soft light, +Shall seem as a weft from the sky. + +3. +When the pale moonbeam +On tower and stream +Sheds a flood of silver sheen, _15 +How I love to gaze +As the cold ray strays +O’er thy face, my heart’s throned queen! + +4. +Wilt thou roam with me +To the restless sea, _20 +And linger upon the steep, +And list to the flow +Of the waves below +How they toss and roar and leap? + +5. +Those boiling waves, _25 +And the storm that raves +At night o’er their foaming crest, +Resemble the strife +That, from earliest life, +The passions have waged in my breast. _30 + +6. +Oh, come then, and rove +To the sea or the grove, +When the moon is rising bright; +And I’ll whisper there, +In the cool night-air, _35 +What I dare not in broad daylight. + +*** + + +NOTES ON THE TEXT AND ITS PUNCTUATION. + +In the case of every poem published during Shelley’s lifetime, the text +of this edition is based upon that of the editio princeps or earliest +issue. Wherever our text deviates verbally from this exemplar, the word +or words of the editio princeps will be found recorded in a footnote. In +like manner, wherever the text of the poems first printed by Mrs. +Shelley in the “Posthumous Poems” of 1824 or the “Poetical Works” of +1839 is modified by manuscript authority or otherwise, the reading of +the earliest printed text has been subjoined in a footnote. Shelley’s +punctuation—or what may be presumed to be his—has been retained, save +in the case of errors (whether of the transcriber or the printer) +overlooked in the revision of the proof-sheets, and of a few places +where the pointing, though certainly or seemingly Shelley’s, tends to +obscure the sense or grammatical construction. In the following notes +the more important textual difficulties are briefly discussed, and the +readings embodied in the text of this edition, it is hoped, sufficiently +justified. An attempt has also been made to record the original +punctuation where it is here departed from. + +1. +THE DAEMON OF THE WORLD: PART 1. + +The following paragraph, relating to this poem, closes Shelley’s +“Preface” to “Alastor”, etc., 1816:—‘The Fragment entitled “The Daemon +of the World” is a detached part of a poem which the author does not +intend for publication. The metre in which it is composed is that of +“Samson Agonistes” and the Italian pastoral drama, and may be considered +as the natural measure into which poetical conceptions, expressed in +harmonious language, necessarily fall.’ + +2. +Lines 56, 112, 184, 288. The editor has added a comma at the end of +these lines, and a period (for the comma of 1816) after by, line 279. + +3. +Lines 167, 168. The editio princeps has a comma after And, line 167, and +heaven, line 168. + +1. +THE DAEMON OF THE WORLD: PART 2. + +Printed by Mr. Forman from a copy in his possession of “Queen Mab”, +corrected by Shelley’s hand. See “The Shelley Library”, pages 36-44, for +a detailed history and description of this copy. + +2. +Lines 436-438. Mr. Forman prints:— +Which from the exhaustless lore of human weal +Draws on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that rise +In time-destroying infiniteness, gift, etc. +Our text exhibits both variants—lore for ‘store,’ and Dawns for +‘Draws’—found in Shelley’s note on the corresponding passage of “Queen +Mab” (8 204-206). See editor’s note on this passage. Shelley’s comma +after infiniteness, line 438, is omitted as tending to obscure the +construction. + +1. +ALASTOR; OR THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE. + +“Preface”. For the concluding paragraph see editor’s note +on “The Daemon of the World”: Part 1. + +2. +Conducts, O Sleep, to thy, etc. (line 219.) +The Shelley texts, 1816, 1824, 1839, have Conduct here, which Forman and +Dowden retain. The suggestion that Shelley may have written ‘death’s +blue vaults’ (line 216) need not, in the face of ‘the dark gate of +death’ (line 211), be seriously considered; Conduct must, therefore, be +regarded as a fault in grammar. That Shelley actually wrote Conduct is +not impossible, for his grammar is not seldom faulty (see, for instance, +“Revolt of Islam, Dedication”, line 60); but it is most improbable that +he would have committed a solecism so striking both to eye and ear. +Rossetti and Woodberry print Conducts, etc. The final s is often a +vanishing quantity in Shelley’s manuscripts. Or perhaps the compositor’s +hand was misled by his eye, which may have dropped on the words, Conduct +to thy, etc., seven lines above. + +3. +Of wave ruining on wave, etc. (line 327.) +For ruining the text of “Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions, has +running—an overlooked misprint, surely, rather than a conjectural +emendation. For an example of ruining as an intransitive (= ‘falling in +ruins,’ or, simply, ‘falling in streams’) see “Paradise Lost”, 6 +867-869:— +Hell heard th’ insufferable noise, Hell saw +Heav’n ruining from Heav’n, and would have fled +Affrighted, etc. +Ruining, in the sense of ‘streaming,’ ‘trailing,’ occurs in Coleridge’s +“Melancholy: a Fragment” (Sibylline Leaves, 1817, page 262):— +Where ruining ivies propped the ruins steep— +“Melancholy” first appeared in “The Morning Post”, December 7, 1797, +where, through an error identical with that here assumed in the text of +1839, running appears in place of ruining—the word intended, and +doubtless written, by Coleridge. + +4. +Line 349. With Mr. Stopford Brooke, the editor substitutes here a colon +for the full stop which, in editions 1816, 1824, and 1839, follows +ocean. Forman and Dowden retain the full stop; Rossetti and Woodberry +substitute a semicolon. + +5. +And nought but gnarled roots of ancient pines +Branchless and blasted, clenched with grasping roots +The unwilling soil. (lines 530-532.) +Editions 1816, 1824, and 1839 have roots (line 530)—a palpable +misprint, the probable origin of which may be seen in the line which +follows. Rossetti conjectures trunks, but stumps or stems may have been +Shelley’s word. + +6. +Lines 543-548. This somewhat involved passage is here reprinted exactly +as it stands in the editio princeps, save for the comma after and, line +546, first introduced by Dowden, 1890. The construction and meaning are +fully discussed by Forman (“Poetical Works” of Shelley, edition 1876, +volume 1 pages 39, 40), Stopford Brooke (“Poems of Shelley”, G. T. S., +1880, page 323), Dobell (“Alastor”, etc., Facsimile Reprint, 2nd edition +1887, pages 22-27), and Woodberry (“Complete P. W. of Shelley”, 1893, +volume 1 page 413). + +1. +THE REVOLT OF ISLAM. + +The revised text (1818) of this poem is given here, as being that which +Shelley actually published. In order to reconvert the text of “The +Revolt of Islam” into that of “Laon and Cythna”, the reader must make +the following alterations in the text. At the end of the “Preface” +add:— + +‘In the personal conduct of my Hero and Heroine, there is one +circumstance which was intended to startle the reader from the trance of +ordinary life. It was my object to break through the crust of those +outworn opinions on which established institutions depend. I have +appealed therefore to the most universal of all feelings, and have +endeavoured to strengthen the moral sense, by forbidding it to waste its +energies in seeking to avoid actions which are only crimes of +convention. It is because there is so great a multitude of artificial +vices that there are so few real virtues. Those feelings alone which are +benevolent or malevolent, are essentially good or bad. The circumstance +of which I speak was introduced, however, merely to accustom men to that +charity and toleration which the exhibition of a practice widely +differing from their own has a tendency to promote. (The sentiments +connected with and characteristic of this circumstance have no personal +reference to the Writer.—[Shelley’s Note.]) Nothing indeed can be more +mischievous than many actions, innocent in themselves, which might bring +down upon individuals the bigoted contempt and rage of the multitude.’ + +2 21 1: +I had a little sister whose fair eyes + +2 25 2: +To love in human life, this sister sweet, + +3 1 1: +What thoughts had sway over my sister’s slumber + +3 1 3: +As if they did ten thousand years outnumber + +4 30 6: +And left it vacant—’twas her brother’s face— + +5 47 5: +I had a brother once, but he is dead!— + +6 24 8: +My own sweet sister looked), with joy did quail, + +6 31 6: +The common blood which ran within our frames, + +6 39 6-9: +With such close sympathies, for to each other +Had high and solemn hopes, the gentle might +Of earliest love, and all the thoughts which smother +Cold Evil’s power, now linked a sister and a brother. + +6 40 1: +And such is Nature’s modesty, that those + +8 4 9: +Dream ye that God thus builds for man in solitude? + +8 5 1: +What then is God? Ye mock yourselves and give + +8 6 1: +What then is God? Some moonstruck sophist stood + +8 6 8, 9: +And that men say God has appointed Death +On all who scorn his will to wreak immortal wrath. + +8 7 1-4: +Men say they have seen God, and heard from God, +Or known from others who have known such things, +And that his will is all our law, a rod +To scourge us into slaves—that Priests and Kings + +8 8 1: +And it is said, that God will punish wrong; + +8 8 3, 4: +And his red hell’s undying snakes among +Will bind the wretch on whom he fixed a stain + +8 13 3, 4: +For it is said God rules both high and low, +And man is made the captive of his brother; + +9 13 8: +To curse the rebels. To their God did they + +9 14 6: +By God, and Nature, and Necessity. + +9 15. The stanza contains ten lines—lines 4-7 as follows: +There was one teacher, and must ever be, +They said, even God, who, the necessity +Of rule and wrong had armed against mankind, +His slave and his avenger there to be; + +9 18 3-6: +And Hell and Awe, which in the heart of man +Is God itself; the Priests its downfall knew, +As day by day their altars lovelier grew, +Till they were left alone within the fane; + +10 22 9: +On fire! Almighty God his hell on earth has spread! + +10 26 7, 8: +Of their Almighty God, the armies wind +In sad procession: each among the train + +10 28 1: +O God Almighty! thou alone hast power. + +10 31 1: +And Oromaze, and Christ, and Mahomet, + +10 32 1: +He was a Christian Priest from whom it came + +10 32 4: +To quell the rebel Atheists; a dire guest + +10 32 9: +To wreak his fear of God in vengeance on mankind + +10 34 5, 6: +His cradled Idol, and the sacrifice +Of God to God’s own wrath—that Islam’s creed + +10 35 9: +And thrones, which rest on faith in God, nigh overturned. + +10 39 4: +Of God may be appeased. He ceased, and they + +10 40 5: +With storms and shadows girt, sate God, alone, + +10 44 9: +As ‘hush! hark! Come they yet? +God, God, thine hour is near!’ + +10 45 8: +Men brought their atheist kindred to appease + +10 47 6: +The threshold of God’s throne, and it was she! + +11 16 1: +Ye turn to God for aid in your distress; + +11 25 7: +Swear by your dreadful God.’—‘We swear, we swear!’ + +12 10 9: +Truly for self, thus thought that Christian Priest indeed, + +12 11 9: +A woman? God has sent his other victim here. + +12 12 6-8: +Will I stand up before God’s golden throne, +And cry, ‘O Lord, to thee did I betray +An Atheist; but for me she would have known + +12 29 4: +In torment and in fire have Atheists gone; + +12 30 4: +How Atheists and Republicans can die; + +2. +Aught but a lifeless clod, until revived by thee (Dedic. 6 9). + +So Rossetti; the Shelley editions, 1818 and 1839, read clog, which is +retained by Forman, Dowden, and Woodberry. Rossetti’s happy conjecture, +clod, seems to Forman ‘a doubtful emendation, as Shelley may have used +clog in its [figurative] sense of weight, encumbrance.’—Hardly, as +here, in a poetical figure: that would be to use a metaphor within a +metaphor. Shelley compares his heart to a concrete object: if clog is +right, the word must be taken in one or other of its two recognized +LITERAL senses—‘a wooden shoe,’ or ‘a block of wood tied round the neck +or to the leg of a horse or a dog.’ Again, it is of others’ hearts, not +of his own, that Shelley here deplores the icy coldness and weight; +besides, how could he appropriately describe his heart as a weight or +encumbrance upon the free play of impulse and emotion, seeing that for +Shelley, above all men, the heart was itself the main source and spring +of all feeling and action? That source, he complains, has been dried +up—its emotions desiccated—by the crushing impact of other hearts, +heavy, hard and cold as stone. His heart has become withered and barren, +like a lump of earth parched with frost—‘a lifeless clod.’ Compare +“Summer and Winter”, lines 11-15:— + ‘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;’ etc., etc. + +The word revived suits well with clod; but what is a revived clog? +Finally, the first two lines of the following stanza (7) seem decisive +in favour of Roseetti’s word. + +If any one wonders how a misprint overlooked in 1818 could, after +twenty-one years, still remain undiscovered in 1839, let him consider +the case of clog in Lamb’s parody on Southey’s and Coleridge’s “Dactyls” +(Lamb, “Letter to Coleridge”, July 1, 1796):— + Sorely your Dactyls do drag along limp-footed; + Sad is the measure that hangs a clog round ’em so, etc., etc. + +Here the misprint, clod, which in 1868 appeared in Moxon’s edition of +the “Letters of Charles Lamb”, has through five successive editions and +under many editors—including Fitzgerald, Ainger, and Macdonald—held +its ground even to the present day; and this, notwithstanding the +preservation of the true reading, clog, in the texts of Talfourd and +Carew Hazlitt. Here then is the case of a palpable misprint surviving, +despite positive external evidence of its falsity, over a period of +thirty-six years. + +3. +And walked as free, etc. (Ded. 7 6). + +Walked is one of Shelley’s occasional grammatical laxities. Forman well +observes that walkedst, the right word here, would naturally seem to +Shelley more heinous than a breach of syntactic rule. Rossetti and, +after him, Dowden print walk. Forman and Woodberry follow the early +texts. + +4. +1 9 1-7. Here the text follows the punctuation of the editio princeps, +1818, with two exceptions: a comma is inserted (1) after scale (line +201), on the authority of the Bodleian manuscript (Locock); and (2) +after neck (line 205), to indicate the true construction. Mrs. Shelley’s +text, 1839, has a semicolon after plumes (line 203), which Rossetti +adopts. Forman (1892) departs from the pointing of Shelley’s edition +here, placing a period at the close of line 199, and a dash after +blended (line 200). + +5. +What life, what power, was, etc. (1 11 1.) +The editio princeps, 1818, wants the commas here. + +6. +...and now +We are embarked—the mountains hang and frown +Over the starry deep that gleams below, +A vast and dim expanse, as o’er the waves we go. (1 23 6-9.) +With Woodberry I substitute after embarked (7) a dash for the comma of +the editio princeps; with Rossetti I restore to below (8) a comma which +I believe to have been overlooked by the printer of that edition. +Shelley’s meaning I take to be that ‘a vast and dim expanse of mountain +hangs frowning over the starry deep that gleams below it as we pass over +the waves.’ + +7. +As King, and Lord, and God, the conquering Fiend did own,—(1 28 9.) +So Forman (1892), Dowden; the editio princeps, has a full stop at the +close of the line,—where, according to Mr. Locock, no point appears in +the Bodleian manuscript. + +8. +Black-winged demon forms, etc. (1 30 7.) +The Bodleian manuscript exhibits the requisite hyphen here, and in +golden-pinioned (32 2). + +9. +1 31 2, 6. The ‘three-dots’ point, employed by Shelley to indicate a +pause longer than that of a full stop, is introduced into these two +lines on the authority of the Bodleian manuscript. In both cases it +replaces a dash in the editio princeps. See list of punctual variations +below. Mr. Locock reports the presence in the manuscript of what he +justly terms a ‘characteristic’ comma after Soon (31 2). + +10. +...mine shook beneath the wide emotion. (1 38 9.) +For emotion the Bodleian manuscript has commotion (Locock)—perhaps the +fitter word here. + +11. +Deep slumber fell on me:—my dreams were fire— (1 40 1.) +The dash after fire is from the Bodleian manuscript,—where, moreover, +the somewhat misleading but indubitably Shelleyan comma after passion +(editio princeps, 40 4) is wanting (Locock). I have added a dash to the +comma after cover (40 5) in order to clarify the sense. + +12. +And shared in fearless deeds with evil men, (1 44 4.) +With Forman and Dowden I substitute here a comma for the full stop of +the editio princeps. See also list of punctual variations below (stanza +44). + +13. +The Spirit whom I loved, in solitude +Sustained his child: (1 45 4, 5.) +The comma here, important as marking the sense as well as the rhythm of +the passage, is derived from the Bodleian manuscript (Locock). + +14. +I looked, and we were sailing pleasantly, +Swift as a cloud between the sea and sky; +Beneath the rising moon seen far away, +Mountains of ice, etc. (1 47 4-7.) +The editio princeps has a comma after sky (5) and a semicolon after away +(6)—a pointing followed by Forman, Dowden, and Woodberry. By +transposing these points (as in our text), however, a much better sense +is obtained; and, luckily, this better sense proves to be that yielded +by the Bodleian manuscript, where, Mr. Locock reports, there is a +semicolon after sky (5), a comma after moon (6), and no point whatsoever +after away (6). + +15. +Girt by the deserts of the Universe; (1 50 4.) +So the Bodleian manuscript, anticipated by Woodberry (1893). Rossetti +(1870) had substituted a comma for the period of editio princeps. + +16. +Hymns which my soul had woven to Freedom, strong +The source of passion, whence they rose, to be; +Triumphant strains, which, etc. (2 28 6-8.) +The editio princeps, followed by Forman, has passion whence (7). Mrs. +Shelley, “Poetical Works” 1839, both editions, prints: strong The source +of passion, whence they rose to be Triumphant strains, which, etc. + +17. +But, pale, were calm with passion—thus subdued, etc. (2 49 6.) +With Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry, I add a comma after But to the +pointing of the editio princeps. Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, +both editions, prints: But pale, were calm.—With passion thus subdued, +etc. + +18. +Methought that grate was lifted, etc. (3 25 1.) +Shelley’s and Mrs. Shelley’s editions have gate, which is retained by +Forman. But cf. 3 14 2, 7. Dowden and Woodberry follow Rossetti in +printing grate. + +19. +Where her own standard, etc. (4 24 5.) +So Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions. + +20. +Beneath whose spires, which swayed in the red flame, (5 54 6.) +Shelley’s and Mrs. Shelley’s editions (1818, 1839) give red light +here,—an oversight perpetuated by Forman, the rhyme-words name (8) and +frame (9) notwithstanding. With Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry, I print red +flame,—an obvious emendation proposed by Fleay. + +21. +—when the waves smile, +As sudden earthquakes light many a volcano-isle, +Thus sudden, unexpected feast was spread, etc. (6 7 8, 9; 8 1.) +With Forman, Dowden, Woodberry, I substitute after isle (7 9) a comma +for the full stop of editions 1818, 1839 (retained by Rossetti). The +passage is obscure: perhaps Shelley wrote ‘lift many a volcano-isle.’ +The plain becomes studded in an instant with piles of corpses, even as +the smiling surface of the sea will sometimes become studded in an +instant with many islands uplifted by a sudden shock of earthquake. + +22. +7 7 2-6. The editio princeps punctuates thus:— +and words it gave +Gestures and looks, such as in whirlwinds bore +Which might not be withstood, whence none could save +All who approached their sphere, like some calm wave +Vexed into whirlpools by the chasms beneath; +This punctuation is retained by Forman; Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry, +place a comma after gave (2) and Gestures (3), and—adopting the +suggestion of Mr. A.C. Bradley—enclose line 4 (Which might...could +save) in parentheses; thus construing which might not be withstood and +whence none could save as adjectival clauses qualifying whirlwinds (3), +and taking bore (3) as a transitive verb governing All who approached +their sphere (5). This, which I believe to be the true construction, is +perhaps indicated quite as clearly by the pointing adopted in the +text—a pointing moreover which, on metrical grounds, is, I think, +preferable to that proposed by Mr. Bradley. I have added a dash to the +comma after sphere (5), to indicate that it is Cythna herself (and not +All who approached, etc.) that resembles some calm wave, etc. + +23. +Which dwell in lakes, when the red moon on high +Pause ere it wakens tempest;— (7 22 6, 7.) +Here when the moon Pause is clearly irregular, but it appears in +editions 1818, 1839, and is undoubtedly Shelley’s phrase. Rossetti cites +a conjectural emendation by a certain ‘C.D. Campbell, Mauritius’:—which +the red moon on high Pours eve it wakens tempest; but cf. “Julian and +Maddalo”, lines 53, 54:— +Meanwhile the sun paused ere it should alight, +Over the horizon of the mountains. +—and “Prince Athanase”, lines 220, 221:— +When the curved moon then lingering in the west +Paused, in yon waves her mighty horns to wet, etc. + +24. +—time imparted +Such power to me—I became fearless-hearted, etc. (7 30 4, 5.) +With Woodberry I replace with a dash the comma (editio princeps) after +me (5)retained by Forman, deleted by Rossetti and Dowden. Shelley’s (and +Forman’s) punctuation leaves the construction ambiguous; with +Woodberry’s the two clauses are seen to be parallel—the latter being +appositive to and explanatory of the former; while with Dowden’s the +clauses are placed in correlation: time imparted such power to me that I +became fearless-hearted. + +25. +Of love, in that lorn solitude, etc. (7 32 7.) +All editions prior to 1876 have lone solitude, etc. The important +emendation lorn was first introduced into the text by Forman, from +Shelley’s revised copy of “Laon and Cythna”, where lone is found to be +turned into lorn by the poet’s own hand. + +26. +And Hate is throned on high with Fear her mother, etc. (8 13 5.) +So the editio princeps; Forman, Dowden, Woodberry, following the text of +“Laon and Cythna”, 1818, read, Fear his mother. Forman refers to 10 42 +4, 5, where Fear figures as a female, and Hate as ‘her mate and foe.’ +But consistency in such matters was not one of Shelley’s +characteristics, and there seems to be no need for alteration here. Mrs. +Shelley (1839) and Rossetti follow the editio princeps. + +27. +The ship fled fast till the stars ‘gan to fail, +And, round me gathered, etc. (8 26 5, 6.) +The editio princeps has no comma after And (6). Mrs. Shelley (1839) +places a full stop at fail (5) and reads, All round me gathered, etc. + +28. +Words which the lore of truth in hues of flame, etc. (9 12 6.) +The editio princeps, followed by Rossetti and Woodberry, has hues of +grace [cf. note (20) above]; Forman and Dowden read hues of flame. For +instances of a rhyme-word doing double service, see 9 34 6, 9 +(thee...thee); 6 3 2, 4 (arms...arms); 10 5 1, 3 (came...came). + +29. +Led them, thus erring, from their native land; (10 5 6.) +Editions 1818, 1839 read home for land here. All modern editors adopt +Fleay’s cj., land [rhyming with band (8), sand (9)]. + +30. +11 11 7. Rossetti and Dowden, following Mrs. Shelley (1839), print +writhed here. + +31. +When the broad sunrise, etc. (12 34 3.) +When is Rossetti’s cj. (accepted by Dowden) for Where (1818, 1839), +which Forman and Woodberry retain. In 11 24 1, 12 15 2 and 12 28 7 there +is Forman’s cj. for then (1818). + +32. +a golden mist did quiver +Where its wild surges with the lake were blended,— (12 40 3, 4.) +Where is Rossetti’s cj. (accepted by Forman and Dowden) for When +(editions 1818, 1839; Woodberry). See also list of punctual variations +below. + +33. +Our bark hung there, as on a line suspended, etc. (12 40 5.) +Here on a line is Rossetti’s cj. (accepted by all editors) for one line +(editions 1818, 1839). See also list of punctual variations below. + +34. +LIST OF PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. +Obvious errors of the press excepted, our text reproduces the +punctuation of Shelley’s edition (1818), save where the sense is likely +to be perverted or obscured thereby. The following list shows where the +pointing of the text varies from that of the editio princeps (1818) +which is in every instance recorded here. + +DEDICATION, 7. long. (9). + +CANTO 1. +9. scale (3), neck (7). +11. What life what power (1). +22. boat, (8), lay (9). +23. embarked, (7), below A vast (8, 9). +26. world (1), chaos: Lo! (2). +28. life: (2), own. (9). +29. mirth, (6). +30. language (2), But, when (5). +31. foundations—soon (2), war— thrones (6), multitude, (7). +32. flame, (4). +33. lightnings (3), truth, (5), brood, (5), hearts, (8). +34. Fiend (6). +35. keep (8). +37. mountains— (8). +38. unfold, (1), woe: (4), show, (5). +39. gladness, (6) 40 fire, (1), cover, (5), far (6). +42. kiss. (9). +43. But (5). +44. men. (4), fame; (7). +45. loved (4). +47. sky, (5), away (6). +49. dream, (2), floods. (9). +50. Universe. (4), language (6). +54. blind. (4). +57. mine—He (8). +58. said— (5). +60. tongue, (9). + +CANTO 2. +1. which (4). +3. Yet flattering power had (7). +4. lust, (6). +6. kind, (2). +11. Nor, (2). +13. ruin. (3), trust. (9). +18. friend (3). +22. thought, (6), fancies (7). +24. radiancy, (3). +25. dells, (8). +26. waste, (4) +28. passion (7). +31. yet (4). +32. which (3). +33. blight (8), who (8). +37. seat; (7). +39. not—‘wherefore (1). +40. good, (5). +41. tears (7). +43. air (2). +46. fire, (3). +47. stroke, (2). +49. But (6). + +CANTO 3. +1. dream, (4). +3. shown (7), That (9). +4. when, (3). +5. ever (7). +7. And (1). +16. Below (6). +19. if (4). +25. thither, (2). +26. worm (2), there, (3). +27. beautiful, (8). +28. And (1). +30. As (1). + +CANTO 4. +2. fallen—We (6). +3. ray, (7). +4. sleep, (5). +8. fed (6). +10. wide; (1), sword (7). +16. chance, (7). +19. her (3), blending (8). +23. tyranny, (4). +24. unwillingly (1). +26. blood; (2). +27. around (2), as (4). +31. or (4). +33. was (5). + +CANTO 5. +1. flow, (5). +2. profound—Oh, (4), veiled, (6). +3. victory (1), face— (8). +4. swim, (5) +6. spread, (2), outsprung (5), far, (6), war, (8). +8. avail (5). +10. weep; (4), tents (8). +11. lives, (8). +13. beside (1). +15. sky, (3). +17. love (4). +20. Which (9). +22. gloom, (8). +23. King (6). +27. known, (4). +33. ye? (1), Othman— (3). +34. pure— (7). +35. people (1). +36. where (3). +38. quail; (2). +39. society, (8). +40. see (1). +43. light (8), throne. (9). +50. skies, (6). +51. Image (7), isles; all (9), amaze. When (9, 10), fair. (12). +51. 1: will (15), train (15). +51. 2: wert, (5). +51. 4: brethren (1). +51. 5: steaming, (6). +55. creep. (9). + +CANTO 6. +1. snapped (9). +2. gate, (2). +5. rout (4), voice, (6), looks, (6). +6. as (1). +7. prey, (1), isle. (9). +8. sight (2). +12. glen (4). +14. almost (1), dismounting (4). +15. blood (2). +21. reins:—We (3), word (3). +22. crest (6). +25. And, (1), and (9). +28. but (3), there, (8). +30. air. (9). +32. voice:— (1). +37. frames; (5). +43. mane, (2), again, (7). +48. Now (8). +51. hut, (4). +54. waste, (7). + +CANTO 7. +2. was, (5). +6. dreams (3). +7. gave Gestures and (2, 3), withstood, (4), save (4), sphere, (5). +8. sent, (2). +14. taught, (6), sought, (8). +17. and (6). +18. own (5), beloved:— (5). +19. tears; (2), which, (3), appears, (5). +25. me, (1), shapes (5). +27. And (1). +28. strength (1). +30. Aye, (3), me, (5). +33. pure (9). +38. wracked; (4), cataract, (5). + +CANTO 8. +2. and (2). +9. shadow (5). +11. freedom (7), blood. (9). +13. Woman, (8), bond-slave, (8). +14. pursuing (8), wretch! (9). +15. home, (3). +21. Hate, (1). +23. reply, (1). +25. fairest, (1). +26. And (6). +28. thunder (2). + +CANTO 9. +4. hills, (1), brood, (6). +5. port—alas! (1). +8. grave (2). +9. with friend (3), occupations (7), overnumber, (8). +12. lair; (5), Words, (6). +15. who, (4), armed, (5), misery. (9). +17. call, (4). +20. truth (9). +22. sharest; (4). +23. Faith, (8). +28. conceive (8). +30. and as (5), hope (8). +33. thoughts:—Come (7). +34. willingly (2). +35. ceased, (8). +36. undight; (4). + +CANTO 10. +2. tongue, (1). +7. conspirators (6), wolves, (8). +8. smiles, (5). +9. bands, (2) +11. file did (5). +18. but (5). +19. brought, (5). +24. food (5). +29. worshippers (3). +32. west (2). +36. foes, (5). +38. now! (2). +40. alone, (5). +41. morn—at (1). +42. below, (2). +43. deep, (7), pest (8). +44. drear (8). +47. ‘Kill me!’ they (9). +48. died, (8). + +CANTO 11. +4. which, (6), eyes, (8). +5. tenderness (7). +7. return—the (8). +8. midnight— (1). +10. multitude (1). +11. cheeks (1), here (4). +12. come, give (3). +13. many (1). +14. arrest, (4), terror, (6). +19. thus (1). +20. Stranger: ‘What (5). +23. People: (7). + +CANTO 12. +3. and like (7). +7. away (7). +8. Fairer it seems than (7). +10. self, (9). +11. divine (2), beauty— (3). +12. own. (9). +14. fear, (1), choose, (4). +17. death? the (1). +19. radiance (3). +22. spake; (5). +25. thee beloved;— (8). +26. towers (6). +28. repent, (2). +29. withdrawn, (2). +31. stood a winged Thought (1). +32. gossamer, (6). +33. stream (1). +34. sunrise, (3), gold, (3), quiver, (4). +35. abode, (4). +37. wonderful; (3), go, (4). +40. blended: (4), heavens, (6), lake; (6). + +1. +PRINCE ATHANASE. + +Lines 28-30. The punctuation here (“Poetical Works”, 1839) is supported +by the Bodleian manuscript, which has a full stop at relief (line 28), +and a comma at chief (line 30). The text of the “Posthumous Poems”, +1824, has a semicolon at relief and a full stop at chief. The original +draft of lines 29, 30, in the Bodleian manuscript, runs:— + He was the child of fortune and of power, + And, though of a high race the orphan Chief, etc. +—which is decisive in favour of our punctuation (1839). See Locock, +“Examination”, etc., page 51. + +2. +Which wake and feed an ever-living woe,— (line 74.) +All the editions have on for an, the reading of the Bodleian manuscript, +where it appears as a substitute for his, the word originally written. +The first draft of the line runs: Which nursed and fed his everliving +woe. Wake, accordingly, is to be construed as a transitive (Locock). + +3. +Lines 130-169. This entire passage is distinctly cancelled in the +Bodleian manuscript, where the following revised version of lines +125-129 and 168-181 is found some way later on:— + Prince Athanase had one beloved friend, + An old, old man, with hair of silver white, + And lips where heavenly smiles would hang and blend + With his wise words; and eyes whose arrowy light + Was the reflex of many minds; he filled + From fountains pure, nigh overgrown and [lost], + The spirit of Prince Athanase, a child; + And soul-sustaining songs of ancient lore + And philosophic wisdom, clear and mild. + And sweet and subtle talk they evermore + The pupil and the master [share], until + Sharing that undiminishable store, + The youth, as clouds athwart a grassy hill + Outrun the winds that chase them, soon outran + His teacher, and did teach with native skill + Strange truths and new to that experienced man; + So [?] they were friends, as few have ever been + Who mark the extremes of life’s discordant span. +The words bracketed above, and in Fragment 5 of our text, are cancelled +in the manuscript (Locock). + +4. +And blighting hope, etc. (line 152.) +The word blighting here, noted as unsuitable by Rossetti, is cancelled +in the Bodleian manuscript (Locock). + +5. +She saw between the chestnuts, far beneath, etc. (line 154.) +The reading of editions 1824, 1839 (beneath the chestnuts) is a palpable +misprint. + +6. +And sweet and subtle talk they evermore, +The pupil and the master, shared; (lines 173, 174.) +So edition 1824, which is supported by the Bodleian manuscript,—both +the cancelled draft and the revised version: cf. note above. “Poetical +Works”, 1839, has now for they—a reading retained by Rossetti alone of +modern editors. + +7. +Line 193. The ‘three-dots’ point at storm is in the Bodleian manuscript. + +8. +Lines 202-207. The Bodleian manuscript, which has a comma and dash after +nightingale, bears out James Thomson’s (‘B. V.’s’) view, approved by +Rossetti, that these lines form one sentence. The manuscript has a dash +after here (line 207), which must be regarded as ‘equivalent to a full +stop or note of exclamation’ (Locock). Editions 1824, 1839 have a note +of exclamation after nightingale (line 204) and a comma after here (line +207). + +9. +Fragment 3 (lines 230-239). First printed from the Bodleian manuscript +by Mr. C.D. Locock. In the space here left blank, line 231, the +manuscript has manhood, which is cancelled for some monosyllable +unknown—query, spring? + +10. +And sea-buds burst under the waves serene:— (line 250.) +For under edition 1839 has beneath, which, however, is cancelled for +under in the Bodleian manuscript (Locock). + +11. +Lines 251-254. This, with many other places from line 222 onwards, +evidently lacks Shelley’s final corrections. + +12. +Line 259. According to Mr. Locock, the final text of this line in the +Bodleian manuscript runs:— +Exulting, while the wide world shrinks below, etc. + +13. +Fragment 5 (lines 261-278). The text here is much tortured in the +Bodleian manuscript. What the editions give us is clearly but a rough +and tentative draft. ‘The language contains no third rhyme to mountains +(line 262) and fountains (line 264).’ Locock. Lines 270-278 were first +printed by Mr. Locock. + +14. +Line 289. For light (Bodleian manuscript) here the editions read bright. +But light is undoubtedly the right word: cf. line 287. Investeth (line +285), Rossetti’s cj. for Investeth (1824, 1839) is found in the Bodleian +manuscript. + +15. +Lines 297-302 (the darts...ungarmented). First printed by Mr. Locock +from the Bodleian manuscript. + +16. +Another Fragment (A). Lines 1-3 of this Fragment reappear in a modified +shape in the Bodleian manuscript of “Prometheus Unbound”, 2 4 28-30:— + Or looks which tell that while the lips are calm + And the eyes cold, the spirit weeps within + Tears like the sanguine sweat of agony; +Here the lines are cancelled—only, however, to reappear in a heightened +shape in “The Cenci”, 1 1 111-113:— + The dry, fixed eyeball; the pale quivering lip, + Which tells me that the spirit weeps within + Tears bitterer than the bloody sweat of Christ. +(Garnett, Locock.) + +17. +PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. +The punctuation of “Prince Athanase” is that of “Poetical Works”, 1839, +save in the places specified in the notes above, and in line 60—where +there is a full stop, instead of the comma demanded by the sense, at the +close of the line. + +ROSALIND AND HELEN. + +1. +A sound from there, etc. (line 63.) +Rossetti’s cj., there for thee, is adopted by all modern editors. + +2. +And down my cheeks the quick tears fell, etc. (line 366.) +The word fell is Rossetti’s cj. (to rhyme with tell, line 369) for ran +1819, 1839). + +3. +Lines 405-409. The syntax here does not hang together, and Shelley may +have been thinking of this passage amongst others when, on September 6, +1819, he wrote to Ollier:—‘In the “Rosalind and Helen” I see there are +some few errors, which are so much the worse because they are errors in +the sense.’ The obscurity, however, may have been, in part at least, +designed: Rosalind grows incoherent before breaking off abruptly. No +satisfactory emendation has been proposed. + +4. +Where weary meteor lamps repose, etc. (line 551.) +With Woodberry I regard Where, his cj. for When (1819, 1839), as +necessary for the sense. + +5. +With which they drag from mines of gore, etc. (line 711.) +Rossetti proposes yore for gore here, or, as an alternative, rivers of +gore, etc. If yore be right, Shelley’s meaning is: ‘With which from of +old they drag,’ etc. But cf. Note (3) above. + +6. +Where, like twin vultures, etc. (line 932.) +Where is Woodberry’s reading for When (1819, 1839). Forman suggests +Where but does not print it. + +7. +Lines 1093-1096. The editio princeps (1819) punctuates:— +Hung in dense flocks beneath the dome, +That ivory dome, whose azure night +With golden stars, like heaven, was bright +O’er the split cedar’s pointed flame; + +8. +Lines 1168-1170. Sunk (line 1170) must be taken as a transitive in this +passage, the grammar of which is defended by Mr. Swinburne. + +9. +Whilst animal life many long years +Had rescue from a chasm of tears; (lines 1208-9.) +Forman substitutes rescue for rescued (1819, 1839)—a highly probable +cj. adopted by Dowden, but rejected by Woodberry. The sense is: ‘Whilst +my life, surviving by the physical functions merely, thus escaped during +many years from hopeless weeping.’ + +10. +PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. +The following is a list of punctual variations, giving in each case the +pointing of the editio princeps (1819):—heart 257; weak 425; Aye 492; +There—now 545; immortally 864; not, 894; bleeding, 933; Fidelity 1055; +dome, 1093; bright 1095; tremble, 1150; life-dissolving 1166; words, +1176; omit parentheses lines 1188-9; bereft, 1230. + +JULIAN AND MADDALO. + +1. +Line 158. Salutations past; (1824); Salutations passed; (1839). Our text +follows Woodberry. + +2. +—we might be all +We dream of happy, high, majestical. (lines 172-3.) +So the Hunt manuscript, edition 1824, has a comma after of (line 173), +which is retained by Rossetti and Dowden. + +3. +—his melody +Is interrupted—now we hear the din, etc. (lines 265-6.) +So the Hunt manuscript; his melody Is interrupted now: we hear the din, +etc., 1824, 1829. + +4. +Lines 282-284. The editio princeps (1824) runs:— +Smiled in their motions as they lay apart, +As one who wrought from his own fervid heart +The eloquence of passion: soon he raised, etc. + +5. +Line 414. The editio princeps (1824) has a colon at the end of this +line, and a semicolon at the close of line 415. + +6. +The ‘three-dots’ point, which appears several times in these pages, is +taken from the Hunt manuscript and serves to mark a pause longer than +that of a full stop. + +7. +He ceased, and overcome leant back awhile, etc. (line 511.) +The form leant is retained here, as the stem-vowel, though unaltered in +spelling, is shortened in pronunciation. Thus leant (pronounced ‘lent’) +from lean comes under the same category as crept from creep, lept from +leap, cleft from cleave, etc.—perfectly normal forms, all of them. In +the case of weak preterites formed without any vowel-change, the more +regular formation with ed is that which has been adopted in this volume. +See Editor’s “Preface”. + +8. +CANCELLED FRAGMENTS OF JULIAN AND MADDALO. These were first printed by +Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862. + +9. +PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. +Shelley’s final transcript of “Julian and Maddalo”, though written with +great care and neatness, is yet very imperfectly punctuated. He would +seem to have relied on the vigilance of Leigh Hunt—or, failing Hunt, of +Peacock—to make good all omissions while seeing the poem through the +press. Even Mr. Buxton Forman, careful as he is to uphold manuscript +authority in general, finds it necessary to supplement the pointing of +the Hunt manuscript in no fewer than ninety-four places. The following +table gives a list of the pointings adopted in our text, over and above +those found in the Hunt manuscript. In all but four or five instances, +the supplementary points are derived from Mrs. Shelley’s text of 1824. + +1. Comma added at end of line: +40, 54, 60, 77, 78, 85, 90, 94, 107, +110, 116, 120, 123, 134, 144, 145, +154, 157, 168, 179, 183, 191, 196, +202, 203, 215, 217, 221, 224, 225, +238, 253, 254, 262, 287, 305, 307, +331, 338, 360, 375, 384, 385, 396, +432, 436, 447, 450, 451, 473, 475, +476, 511, 520, 526, 541, 582, 590, +591, 592, 593, 595, 603, 612. + +2. Comma added elsewhere: +seas, 58; vineyards, 58; +dismounted, 61; +evening, 65; +companion, 86; +isles, 90; +meant, 94; +Look, Julian, 96; +maniacs, 110; +maker, 113; +past, 114; +churches, 136; +rainy, 141; +blithe, 167; +beauty, 174; +Maddalo, 192; +others, 205; +this, 232; +respects, 241; +shriek, 267; +wrote, 286; +month, 300; +cried, 300; +O, 304; +and, 306; +misery, disappointment, 314; +soon, 369; +stay, 392; +mad, 394; +Nay, 398; +serpent, 399; +said, 403; +cruel, 439; +hate, 461; +hearts, 483; +he, 529; +seemed, 529; +Unseen, 554; +morning, 582; +aspect, 585; +And, 593; +remember, 604; +parted, 610. + +3. Semicolon added at end of line: +101, 103, 167, 181, 279, 496. + +4. Colon added at end of line: +164, 178, 606, 610. + +5. Full stop added at end of line: +95, 201, 299, 319, 407, 481, 599, 601, 617. + +6. Full stop added elsewhere: +transparent. 85; +trials. 472; +Venice, 583. + +7. Admiration—note added at end of line: +392, 492; +elsewhere: 310, 323, + +8. Dash added at end of line: +158, 379. + +9. Full stop for comma (manuscript): +eye. 119. + +10. Full stop for dash (manuscript): +entered. 158. + +11. Colon for full stop (manuscript): +tale: 596. + +12. Dash for colon (manuscript): +this— 207; +prepared— 379. + +13. Comma and dash for semicolon (manuscript): +expressionless,— 292. + +14. Comma and dash for comma (manuscript): +not,— 127. + + +PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. + +The variants of B. (Shelley’s ‘intermediate draft’ of “Prometheus +Unbound”, now in the Bodleian Library), here recorded, are taken from +Mr. C.D. Locock’s “Examination”, etc., Clarendon Press, 1903. See +Editor’s Prefatory Note, above. + +1. +Act 1, line 204. B. has—shaken in pencil above—peopled. + +2. +Hark that outcry, etc. (1 553.) +All editions read Mark that outcry, etc. As Shelley nowhere else uses +Mark in the sense of List, I have adopted Hark, the reading of B. + +3. +Gleamed in the night. I wandered, etc. (1 770.) +Forman proposes to delete the period at night. + +4. +But treads with lulling footstep, etc. (1 774.) +Forman prints killing—a misreading of B. Editions 1820, 1839 read silent. + +5. +...the eastern star looks white, etc. (1 825.) +B. reads wan for white. + +6. +Like footsteps of weak melody, etc. (2 1 89.) +B. reads far (above a cancelled lost) for weak. + +7. +And wakes the destined soft emotion,— +Attracts, impels them; (2 2 50, 51.) +The editio princeps (1820) reads destined soft emotion, Attracts, etc.; +“Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition reads destined: soft emotion +Attracts, etc. “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition reads destined, soft +emotion Attracts, etc. Forman and Dowden place a period, and Woodberry a +semicolon, at destined (line 50). + +8. +There steams a plume-uplifting wind, etc. (2 2 53.) +Here steams is found in B., in the editio princeps (1820) and in the 1st +edition of “Poetical Works”, 1839. In the 2nd edition, 1839, streams +appears—no doubt a misprint overlooked by the editress. + +9. +Sucked up and hurrying: as they fleet, etc. (2 2 60.) +So “Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions. The editio princeps (1820) +reads hurrying as, etc. + +10. +See’st thou shapes within the mist? (2 3 50.) +So B., where these words are substituted for the cancelled I see thin +shapes within the mist of the editio princeps (1820). ‘The credit of +discovering the true reading belongs to Zupitza’ (Locock). + +11. +2 4 12-18. The construction is faulty here, but the sense, as Professor +Woodberry observes, is clear. + +12. +...but who rains down, etc. (2 4 100.) +The editio princeps (1820) has reigns—a reading which Forman bravely +but unsuccessfully attempts to defend. + +13. +Child of Light! thy limbs are burning, etc. (2 5 54.) +The editio princeps (1820) has lips for limbs, but the word membre in +Shelley’s Italian prose version of these lines establishes limbs, the +reading of B. (Locock). + +14. +Which in the winds and on the waves doth move, (2 5 96.) +The word and is Rossetti’s conjectural emendation, adopted by Forman and +Dowden. Woodberry unhappily observes that ‘the emendation corrects a +faultless line merely to make it agree with stanzaic structure, and...is +open to the gravest doubt.’ Rossetti’s conjecture is fully established +by the authority of B. + +15. +3 4 172-174. The editio princeps (1820) punctuates: +mouldering round +These imaged to the pride of kings and priests, +A dark yet mighty faith, a power, etc. +This punctuation is retained by Forman and Dowden; that of our text is +Woodberry’s. + +16. +3 4 180, 188. A dash has been introduced at the close of these two lines +to indicate the construction more clearly. And for the sake of clearness +a note of interrogation has been substituted for the semicolon of 1820 +after Passionless (line 198). + +17. +Where lovers catch ye by your loose tresses; (4 107.) +B. has sliding for loose (cancelled). + +18. +By ebbing light into her western cave, (4 208.) +Here light is the reading of B. for night (all editions). Mr. Locock +tells us that the anticipated discovery of this reading was the origin +of his examination of the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian. In +printing night Marchant’s compositor blundered; yet ‘we cannot wish the +fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.’ + +19. +Purple and azure, white, and green, and golden, (4 242.) +The editio princeps (1820) reads white, green and golden, etc.—white +and green being Rossetti’s emendation, adopted by Forman and Dowden. +Here again—cf. note on (17) above—Prof. Woodberry commits himself by +stigmatizing the correction as one ‘for which there is no authority in +Shelley’s habitual versification.’ Rossetti’s conjecture is confirmed by +the reading of B., white and green, etc. + +20. +Filling the abyss with sun-like lightenings, (4 276.) +The editio princeps (1820) reads lightnings, for which Rossetti +substitutes lightenings—a conjecture described by Forman as ‘an example +of how a very slight change may produce a very calamitous result.’ B. +however supports Rossetti, and in point of fact Shelley usually wrote +lightenings, even where the word counts as a dissyllable (Locock). + +21. +Meteors and mists, which throng air’s solitudes:— (4 547.) +For throng (cancelled) B. reads feed, i.e., ‘feed on’ (cf. Pasturing +flowers of vegetable fire, 3 4 110)—a reading which carries on the +metaphor of line 546 (ye untameable herds), and ought, perhaps, to be +adopted into the text. + +22. +PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. +The punctuation of our text is that of the editio princeps (1820), +except in the places indicated in the following list, which records in +each instance the pointing of 1820:— + +Act 1.—empire. 15; O, 17; God 144; words 185; internally. 299; O, 302; +gnash 345; wail 345; Sufferer 352; agony. 491; Between 712; cloud 712; +vale 826. + +Act 2: +Scene 1.—air 129; by 153; fire, 155. +Scene 2.—noonday, 25; hurrying 60. +Scene 3.—mist. 50. +Scene 4.—sun, 4; Ungazed 5; on 103; ay 106; secrets. 115. +Scene 5.—brightness 67. + +Act 3: +Scene 3.—apparitions, 49; beauty, 51; phantoms, (omit parentheses) 52; + reality, 53; wind 98. +Scene 4.—toil 109; fire. 110; feel; 114; borne; 115; said 124; + priests, 173; man, 180; hate, 188; Passionless; 198. + +Act 4.—dreams, 66; be. 165; light. 168; air, 187; dreams, 209; woods 211; + thunder-storm, 215; lie 298; bones 342; blending. 343; mire. 349; + pass, 371; kind 385; move. 387. + +THE CENCI. + +1. +The deed he saw could not have rated higher +Than his most worthless life:— (1 1 24, 25.) +Than is Mrs. Shelley’s emendation (1839) for That, the word in the +editio princeps (1819) printed in Italy, and in the (standard) edition +of 1821. The sense is: ‘The crime he witnessed could not have proved +costlier to redeem than his murder has proved to me.’ + +2. +And but that there yet remains a deed to act, etc. (1 1 100.) +Read: And but : that there yet : remains : etc. + +3. +1 1 111-113. The earliest draft of these lines appears as a tentative +fragment in the Bodleian manuscript of “Prince Athanase” (vid. supr.). +In the Bodleian manuscript of “Prometheus Unbound” they reappear (after +2 4 27) in a modified shape, as follows:— +Or looks which tell that while the lips are calm +And the eyes cold, the spirit weeps within +Tears like the sanguine sweat of agony; +Here again, however, the passage is cancelled, once more to reappear in +its final and most effective shape in “The Cenci” (Locock). + +4. +And thus I love you still, but holily, +Even as a sister or a spirit might; (1 2 24, 25.) +For this, the reading of the standard edition (1821), the editio +princeps has, And yet I love, etc., which Rossetti retains. If yet be +right, the line should be punctuated:— +And yet I love you still,—but holily, +Even as a sister or a spirit might; + +5. +What, if we, +The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh, +His children and his wife, etc. (1 3 103-105.) +For were (104) Rossetti cj. are or wear. Wear is a plausible emendation, +but the text as it stands is defensible. + +6. +But that no power can fill with vital oil +That broken lamp of flesh. (3 2 17, 18.) +The standard text (1821) has a Shelleyan comma after oil (17), which +Forman retains. Woodberry adds a dash to the comma, thus making that +(17) a demonstrative pronoun indicating broken lamp of flesh. The +pointing of our text is that of editions 1819, 1839, But that (17) is to +be taken as a prepositional conjunction linking the dependent clause, no +power...lamp of flesh, to the principal sentence, So wastes...kindled +mine (15, 16). + +7. +The following list of punctual variations indicates the places where our +pointing departs from that of the standard text of 1821, and records in +each instance the pointing of that edition:— + +Act 1, Scene 2:—Ah! No, 34; Scene 3:—hope, 29; Why 44; + love 115; thou 146; Ay 146. + +Act 2, Scene 1:—Ah! No, 13; Ah! No, 73; courage 80; nook 179; + Scene 2:—fire, 70; courage 152. + +Act 3, Scene 1:—Why 64; mock 185; opinion 185; law 185; strange 188; + friend 222; + Scene 2:—so 3; oil, 17. + +Act 4, Scene 1:—wrong 41; looked 97; child 107; + Scene 3:—What 19; father, (omit quotes) 32. + +Act 5, Scene 2:—years 119; + Scene 3:—Ay, 5; Guards 94; + Scene 4:—child, 145. + + +THE MASK OF ANARCHY. + +Our text follows in the main the transcript by Mrs. Shelley (with +additions and corrections in Shelley’s hand) known as the ‘Hunt +manuscript.’ For the readings of this manuscript we are indebted to Mr. +Buxton Forman’s Library Edition of the Poems, 1876. The variants of the +‘Wise manuscript’ (see Prefatory Note) are derived from the Facsimile +edited in 1887 for the Shelley Society by Mr. Buxton Forman. + +1. +Like Eldon, an ermined gown; (4 2.) +The editio princeps (1832) has Like Lord E— here. Lord is inserted in +minute characters in the Wise manuscript, but is rejected from our text +as having been cancelled by the poet himself in the (later) Hunt +manuscript. + +2. +For he knew the Palaces +Of our Kings were rightly his; (20 1, 2.) +For rightly (Wise manuscript) the Hunt manuscript and editions 1832, +1839 have nightly which is retained by Rossetti and in Forman’s text of +1876. Dowden and Woodberry print rightly which also appears in Forman’s +latest text (“Aldine Shelley”, 1892). + +3. +In a neat and happy home. (54 4.) +For In (Wise manuscript, editions 1832, 1839) the Hunt manuscript reads +To a neat, etc., which is adopted by Rossetti and Dowden, and appeared +in Forman’s text of 1876. Woodberry and Forman (1892) print In a neat, +etc. + +4. +Stanzas 70 3, 4; 71 1. These form one continuous clause in every text +save the editio princeps, 1832, where a semicolon appears after around +(70 4). + +5. +Our punctuation follows that of the Hunt manuscript, save in the +following places, where a comma, wanting in the manuscript, is supplied +in the text:—gay 47; came 58; waken 122; shaken 123; call 124; number +152; dwell 163; thou 209; thee 249; fashion 287; surprise 345; free 358. +A semicolon is supplied after earth (line 131). + +PETER BELL THE THIRD. + +Thomas Brown, Esq., the Younger, H. F., to whom the “Dedication” is +addressed, is the Irish poet, Tom Moore. The letters H. F. may stand for +‘Historian of the Fudges’ (Garnett), Hibernicae Filius (Rossetti), or, +perhaps, Hibernicae Fidicen. Castles and Oliver (3 2 1; 7 4 4) were +government spies, as readers of Charles Lamb are aware. The allusion in +6 36 is to Wordsworth’s “Thanksgiving Ode on The Battle of Waterloo”, +original version, published in 1816:— +But Thy most dreaded instrument, +In working out a pure intent, +Is Man—arrayed for mutual slaughter, +—Yea, Carnage is Thy daughter! + +1. +Lines 547-549 (6 18 5; 19 1, 2). These lines evidently form a continuous +clause. The full stop of the editio princeps at rocks, line 547, has +therefore been deleted, and a semicolon substituted for the original +comma at the close of line 546. + +2. +‘Ay—and at last desert me too.’ (line 603.) +Rossetti, who however follows the editio princeps, saw that these words +are spoken—not by Peter to his soul, but—by his soul to Peter, by way +of rejoinder to the challenge of lines 600-602:—‘And I and you, My +dearest Soul, will then make merry, As the Prince Regent did with +Sherry.’ In order to indicate this fact, inverted commas are inserted at +the close of line 602 and the beginning of line 603. + +3. +The punctuation of the editio princeps, 1839, has been throughout +revised, but—with the two exceptions specified in notes (1) and (2) +above—it seemed an unprofitable labour to record the particular +alterations, which serve but to clarify—in no instance to modify—the +sense as indicated by Mrs. Shelley’s punctuation. + +LETTER TO MARIA GISBORNE. + +Our text mainly follows Mrs. Shelley’s transcript, for the readings of +which we are indebted to Mr. Buxton Forman’s Library Edition of the +Poems, 1876. The variants from Shelley’s draft are supplied by Dr. +Garnett. + +1. +Lines 197-201. These lines, which are wanting in editions 1824 and 1839 +(1st edition), are supplied from Mrs. Shelley’s transcript and from +Shelley’s draft (Boscombe manuscript). In the 2nd edition of 1839 the +following lines appear in their place:— +Your old friend Godwin, greater none than he; +Though fallen on evil times, yet will he stand, +Among the spirits of our age and land, +Before the dread tribunal of To-come +The foremost, whilst rebuke stands pale and dumb. + +2. +Line 296. The names in this line are supplied from the two manuscripts. +In the “Posthumous Poems” of 1824 the line appears:—Oh! that H— — and +— were there, etc. + +3. +The following list gives the places where the pointing of the text +varies from that of Mrs. Shelley’s transcript as reported by Mr. Buxton +Forman, and records in each case the pointing of that original:—Turk +26; scorn 40; understood, 49; boat— 75; think, 86; believe; 158; are; +164; fair 233; cameleopard; 240; Now 291. + +THE WITCH OF ATLAS. + +1. +The following list gives the places where our text departs from the +pointing of the editio princeps (“Dedication”, 1839; “Witch of Atlas”, +1824), and records in each case the original pointing:— +DEDIC.—pinions, 14; fellow, 41; Othello, 45. +WITCH OF ATLAS.—bliss; 164; above. 192; gums 258; flashed 409; +sunlight, 409; Thamondocana. 424; by. 432; engraven. 448; apart, 662; +mind! 662. + +EPIPSYCHIDION. + +1. +The following list gives the places where our text departs from the +pointing of the editio princeps, 1821, with the original point in each +case:—love, 44; pleasure; 68; flowing 96; where! 234; passed 252; +dreamed, 278; Night 418; year), 440; children, 528. + +ADONAIS. + +1. +The following list indicates the places in which the punctuation of this +edition departs from that of the editio princeps, of 1821, and records +in each instance the pointing of that text:—thou 10; Oh 19; apace, 65; +Oh 73; flown 138; Thou 142; Ah 154; immersed 167; corpse 172; tender +172; his 193; they 213; Death 217; Might 218; bow, 249; sighs 314; +escape 320; Cease 366; dark 406; forth 415; dead, 440; Whilst 493. + +HELLAS. + +A Reprint of the original edition (1822) of “Hellas” was edited for the +Shelley Society in 1887 by Mr. Thomas J. Wise. In Shelley’s list of +Dramatis Personae the Phantom of Mahomet the Second is wanting. +Shelley’s list of Errata in edition 1822 was first printed in Mr. Buxton +Forman’s Library Edition of the Poems, 1876 (4 page 572). These errata +are silently corrected in the text. + +1. +For Revenge and Wrong bring forth their kind, etc. (lines 728-729.) +‘“For” has no rhyme (unless “are” and “despair” are to be considered +such): it requires to rhyme with “hear.” From this defect of rhyme, and +other considerations, I (following Mr. Fleay) used to consider it almost +certain that “Fear” ought to replace “For”; and I gave “Fear” in my +edition of 1870...However, the word in the manuscript [“Williams +transcript”] is “For,” and Shelley’s list of errata leaves this +unaltered—so we must needs abide by it.’—Rossetti, “Complete Poetical +Works of P. B. S.”, edition 1878 (3 volumes), 2 page 456. + +2. +Lines 729-732. This quatrain, as Dr. Garnett (“Letters of Shelley”, +1884, pages 166, 249) points out, is an expansion of the following lines +from the “Agamemmon” of Aeschylus (758-760), quoted by Shelley in a +letter to his wife, dated ‘Friday, August 10, 1821’:— +to dussebes— +meta men pleiona tiktei, +sphetera d’ eikota genna. + +3. +Lines 1091-1093. This passage, from the words more bright to the close +of line 1093, is wanting in the editio princeps, 1822, its place being +supplied by asterisks. The lacuna in the text is due, no doubt, to the +timidity of Ollier, the publisher, whom Shelley had authorised to make +excisions from the notes. In “Poetical Works”, 1839, the lines, as they +appear in our text, are restored; in Galignani’s edition of “Coleridge, +Shelley, and Keats” (Paris, 1829), however, they had already appeared, +though with the substitution of wise for bright (line 1091), and of +unwithstood for unsubdued (line 1093). Galignani’s reading—native for +votive—in line 1095 is an evident misprint. In Ascham’s edition of +Shelley (2 volumes, fcp. 8vo., 1834), the passage is reprinted from +Galignani. + +4. +The following list shows the places in which our text departs from the +punctuation of the editio princeps, 1822, and records in each instance +the pointing of that edition:—dreams 71; course. 125; mockery 150; +conqueror 212; streams 235; Moslems 275; West 305; moon, 347; harm, 394; +shame, 402; anger 408; descends 447; crime 454; banner. 461; Phanae, +470; blood 551; tyrant 557; Cydaris, 606; Heaven 636; Highness 638; man +738; sayest 738; One 768; mountains 831; dust 885; consummation? 902; +dream 921; may 923; death 935; clime. 1005; feast, 1025; horn, 1032; +Noon, 1045; death 1057; dowers 1094. + +CHARLES THE FIRST. + +To Mr. Rossetti we owe the reconstruction of this fragmentary drama out +of materials partly published by Mrs. Shelley in 1824, partly recovered +from manuscript by himself. The bracketed words are, presumably, +supplied by Mr. Rossetti to fill actual lacunae in the manuscript; those +queried represent indistinct writing. Mr. Rossetti’s additions to the +text are indicated in the footnotes. In one or two instances Mr. Forman +and Dr. Garnett have restored the true reading. The list of Dramatis +Personae is Mr. Forman’s. + +THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE. + +1. +Lines 131-135. This grammatically incoherent passage is thus +conjecturally emended by Rossetti:— +Fled back like eagles to their native noon; +For those who put aside the diadem +Of earthly thrones or gems..., +Whether of Athens or Jerusalem, +Were neither mid the mighty captives seen, etc. +In the case of an incomplete poem lacking the author’s final +corrections, however, restoration by conjecture is, to say the least of +it, gratuitous. + +2. +Line 282. The words, ‘Even as the deeds of others, not as theirs.’ And +then—are wanting in editions 1824, 1839, and were recovered by Dr. +Garnett from the Boscombe manuscript. Mrs. Shelley’s note here +runs:—‘There is a chasm here in the manuscript which it is impossible +to fill. It appears from the context that other shapes pass and that +Rousseau still stood beside the dreamer.’ Mr. Forman thinks that the +‘chasm’ is filled up by the words restored from the manuscript by Dr. +Garnett. Mr. A.C. Bradley writes: ‘It seems likely that, after writing +“I have suffered...pain”, Shelley meant to strike out the words between +“known” [276] and “I” [278], and to fill up the gap in such a way that +“I” would be the last word of the line beginning “May well be known”.’ + +MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. + +1. +TO —. Mrs. Shelley tentatively assigned this fragment to 1817. ‘It +seems not improbable that it was addressed at this time [June, 1814] to +Mary Godwin.’ Dowden, “Life”, 1 422, Woodberry suggests that ‘Harriet +answers as well, or better, to the situation described.’ + +2. +ON DEATH. These stanzas occur in the Esdaile manuscript along with +others which Shelley intended to print with “Queen Mab” in 1813; but the +text was revised before publication in 1816. + +3. +TO —. ‘The poem beginning “Oh, there are spirits in the air,” was +addressed in idea to Coleridge, whom he never knew’—writes Mrs. +Shelley. Mr. Bertram Dobell, Mr. Rossetti and Professor Dowden, however, +incline to think that we have here an address by Shelley in a despondent +mood to his own spirit. + +4. +LINES. These appear to be antedated by a year, as they evidently allude +to the death of Harriet Shelley in November, 1816. + +5. +ANOTHER FRAGMENT TO MUSIC. To Mr. Forman we owe the restoration of the +true text here—‘food of Love.’ Mrs. Shelley printed ‘god of Love.’ + +6. +MARENGHI, lines 92, 93. The 1870 (Rossetti) version of these lines is:— +White bones, and locks of dun and yellow hair, +And ringed horns which buffaloes did wear— +The words locks of dun (line 92) are cancelled in the manuscript. +Shelley’s failure to cancel the whole line was due, Mr. Locock rightly +argues, to inadvertence merely; instead of buffaloes the manuscript +gives the buffalo, and it supplies the ‘wonderful line’ (Locock) which +closes the stanza in our text, and with which Mr. Locock aptly compares +“Mont Blanc”, line 69:— +Save when the eagle brings some hunter’s bone, +And the wolf tracks her there. + +7. +ODE TO LIBERTY, lines 1, 2. On the suggestion of his brother, Mr. Alfred +Forman, the editor of the Library Edition of Shelley’s Poems (1876), Mr. +Buxton Forman, printed these lines as follows:— +A glorious people vibrated again: +The lightning of the nations, Liberty, +From heart to heart, etc. +The testimony of Shelley’s autograph in the Harvard College manuscript, +however, is final against such a punctuation. + +8. +Lines 41, 42. We follow Mrs. Shelley’s punctuation (1839). In Shelley’s +edition (1820) there is no stop at the end of line 41, and a semicolon +closes line 42. + +9. +ODE TO NAPLES. In Mrs. Shelley’s editions the various sections of this +Ode are severally headed as follows:—‘Epode 1 alpha, Epode 2 alpha, +Strophe alpha 1, Strophe beta 2, Antistrophe alpha gamma, Antistrophe +beta gamma, Antistrophe beta gamma, Antistrophe alpha gamma, Epode 1 +gamma, Epode 2 gamma. In the manuscript, Mr. Locock tells us, the +headings are ‘very doubtful, many of them being vaguely altered with pen +and pencil.’ Shelley evidently hesitated between two or three +alternative ways of indicating the structure and corresponding parts of +his elaborate song; hence the chaotic jumble of headings printed in +editions 1824, 1839. So far as the “Epodes” are concerned, the headings +in this edition are those of editions 1824, 1839, which may be taken as +supported by the manuscript (Locock). As to the remaining sections, Mr. +Locock’s examination of the manuscript leads him to conclude that +Shelley’s final choice was:—‘Strophe 1, Strophe 2, Antistrophe 1, +Antistrophe 2, Antistrophe 1 alpha, Antistrophe 2 alpha.’ This in itself +would be perfectly appropriate, but it would be inconsistent with the +method employed in designating the “Epodes”. I have therefore adopted in +preference a scheme which, if it lacks manuscript authority in some +particulars, has at least the merit of being absolutely logical and +consistent throughout. + +Mr. Locock has some interesting remarks on the metrical features of this +complex ode. On the 10th line of Antistrophe 1a (line 86 of the +ode)—Aghast she pass from the Earth’s disk—which exceeds by one foot +the 10th lines of the two corresponding divisions, Strophe 1 and +Antistrophe 1b, he observes happily enough that ‘Aghast may well have +been intended to disappear.’ Mr. Locock does not seem to notice that the +closing lines of these three answering sections—(1) hail, hail, all +hail!—(2) Thou shalt be great—All hail!—(3) Art Thou of all these +hopes.—O hail! increase by regular lengths—two, three, four iambi. Nor +does he seem quite to grasp Shelley’s intention with regard to the rhyme +scheme of the other triple group, Strophe 2, Antistrophe 2a, Antistrophe +2b. That of Strophe 2 may be thus expressed:—a-a-bc; d-d-bc; a-c-d; +b-c. Between this and Antistrophe 2a (the second member of the group) +there is a general correspondence with, in one particular, a subtle +modification. The scheme now becomes a-a-bc; d-d-bc; a-c-b; d-c: i.e. +the rhymes of lines 9 and 10 are transposed—God (line 9) answering to +the halfway rhymes of lines 3 and 6, gawd and unawed, instead of (as in +Strophe 2) to the rhyme-endings of lines 4 and 5; and, vice versa, fate +(line 10) answering to desolate and state (lines 4 and 5), instead of to +the halfway rhymes aforesaid. As to Antistrophe 2b, that follows +Antistrophe 2a, so far as it goes; but after line 9 it breaks off +suddenly, and closes with two lines corresponding in length and rhyme to +the closing couplet of Antistrophe 1b, the section immediately +preceding, which, however, belongs not to this group, but to the other. +Mr. Locock speaks of line 124 as ‘a rhymeless line.’ Rhymeless it is +not, for shore, its rhyme-termination, answers to bower and power, the +halfway rhymes of lines 118 and 121 respectively. Why Mr. Locock should +call line 12 an ‘unmetrical line,’ I cannot see. It is a decasyllabic +line, with a trochee substituted for an iambus in the third foot—Around +: me gleamed : many a : bright se : pulchre. + +10. +THE TOWER OF FAMINE.—It is doubtful whether the following note is +Shelley’s or Mrs. Shelley’s: ‘At Pisa there still exists the prison of +Ugolino, which goes by the name of “La Torre della Fame”; in the +adjoining building the galley-slaves are confined. It is situated on the +Ponte al Mare on the Arno.’ + +11. +GINEVRA, line 129: Through seas and winds, cities and wildernesses. The +footnote omits Professor Dowden’s conjectural emendation—woods—for +winds, the reading of edition 1824 here. + +12. +THE LADY OF THE SOUTH. Our text adopts Mr. Forman’s correction—drouth +for drought—in line 3. This should have been recorded in a footnote. + +13. +HYMN TO MERCURY, line 609. The period at now is supported by the Harvard +manuscript. + +JUVENILIA. + +QUEEN MAB. + +1. +Throughout this varied and eternal world +Soul is the only element: the block +That for uncounted ages has remained +The moveless pillar of a mountain’s weight +Is active, living spirit. (4, lines 139-143.) +This punctuation was proposed in 1888 by Mr. J. R. Tutin (see “Notebook +of the Shelley Society”, Part 1, page 21), and adopted by Dowden, +“Poetical Works of Shelley”, Macmillan, 1890. The editio princeps +(1813), which is followed by Forman (1892) and Woodberry (1893), has a +comma after element and a full stop at remained. + +2. +Guards...from a nation’s rage +Secure the crown, etc. (4, lines 173-176.) +So Mrs. Shelley (“Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions), Rossetti, +Forman, Dowden. The editio princeps reads Secures, which Woodberry +defends and retains. + +3. +4, lines 203-220: omitted by Mrs. Shelley from the text of “Poetical +Works”, 1839, 1st edition, but restored in the 2nd edition of 1839. See +above, “Note on Queen Mab, by Mrs. Shelley”. + +4. +All germs of promise, yet when the tall trees, etc. (5, line 9.) +So Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry. In editions 1813 (editio princeps) and +1839 (“Poetical Works”, both editions) there is a full stop at promise +which Forman retains. + +5. +Who ever hears his famished offspring’s scream, etc. (5, line 116.) +The editio princeps has offsprings—an evident misprint. + +6. +6, lines 54-57, line 275: struck out of the text of “Poetical Works”, 1839 +(1st edition), but restored in the 2nd edition of that year. See Note 3 above. + +7. +The exterminable spirit it contains, etc. (7, line 23.) +Exterminable seems to be used here in the sense of ‘illimitable’ (N. E. +D.). Rossetti proposes interminable, or inexterminable. + +8. +A smile of godlike malice reillumed, etc. (7, line 180.) +The editio princeps and the first edition of “Poetical Works”, 1839, +read reillumined here, which is retained by Forman, Dowden, Woodberry. +With Rossetti, I follow Mrs. Shelley’s reading in “Poetical Works”, 1839 +(2nd edition). + +9. +One curse alone was spared—the name of God. (8, line 165.) +Removed from the text, “Poetical Works”, 1839 (1st edition); restored, +“Poetical Works”, 1839 (2nd edition). See Notes 3 and 6 above. + +10. +Which from the exhaustless lore of human weal +Dawns on the virtuous mind, etc. (8, lines 204-205.) +With some hesitation as to lore, I reprint these lines as they are given +by Shelley himself in the note on this passage (supra). The text of 1813 +runs:— +Which from the exhaustless store of human weal +Draws on the virtuous mind, etc. +This is retained by Woodberry, while Rossetti, Forman, and Dowden adopt +eclectic texts, Forman and Dowden reading lore and Draws, while +Rossetti, again, reads store and Dawns. Our text is supported by the +authority of Dr. Richard Garnett. The comma after infiniteness (line +206) has a metrical, not a logical, value. + +11. +Nor searing Reason with the brand of God. (9, line 48.) +Removed from the text, “Poetical Works”, 1839 (1st edition), by Mrs. +Shelley, who failed, doubtless through an oversight, to restore it in +the second edition. See Notes 3, 6, and 9 above. + +12. +Where neither avarice, cunning, pride, nor care, etc. (9, line 67.) +The editio princeps reads pride, or care, which is retained by Forman +and Woodberry. With Rossetti and Dowden, I follow Mrs. Shelley’s text, +“Poetical Works”, 1839 (both editions). + +NOTES TO QUEEN MAB. + +1. +The mine, big with destructive power, burst under me, etc. (Note on 7 67.) +This is the reading of the “Poetical Works” of 1839 (2nd edition). The +editio princeps (1813) reads burst upon me. Doubtless under was intended +by Shelley: the occurrence, thrice over, of upon in the ten lines +preceding would account for the unconscious substitution of the word +here, either by the printer, or perhaps by Shelley himself in his +transcript for the press. + +2. +...it cannot arise from reasoning, etc. (Note on 7 135.) +The editio princeps (1813) has conviction for reasoning here—an obvious +error of the press, overlooked by Mrs. Shelley in 1839, and perpetuated +in his several editions of the poems by Mr. H. Buxton Forman. Reasoning, +Mr. W.M. Rossetti’s conjectural emendation, is manifestly the right word +here, and has been adopted by Dowden and Woodberry. + +3. +Him, still from hope to hope, etc. (Note on 8 203-207.) +See editor’s note 10 on “Queen Mab” above. + +1. +A DIALOGUE.—The titles of this poem, of the stanzas “On an Icicle”, +etc., and of the lines “To Death”, were first given by Professor Dowden +(“Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1890) from the Esdaile manuscript book. +The textual corrections from the same quarter (see footnotes passim) are +also owing to Professor Dowden. + +2. +ORIGINAL POETRY BY VICTOR AND CAZIRE.—Dr. Garnett, who in 1898 edited +for Mr. John Lane a reprint of these long-lost verses, identifies +“Victor’s” coadjutrix, “Cazire”, with Elizabeth Shelley, the poet’s +sister. ‘The two initial pieces are the only two which can be attributed +to Elizabeth Shelley with absolute certainty, though others in the +volume may possibly belong to her’ (Garnett). + +3. +SAINT EDMOND’S EVE. This ballad-tale was “conveyed” in its entirety by +“Cazire” from Matthew Gregory Lewis’s “Tales of Terror”, 1801, where it +appears under the title of “The Black Canon of Elmham; or, Saint +Edmond’s Eve”. Stockdale, the publisher of “Victor and Cazire”, detected +the imposition, and communicated his discovery to Shelley—when ‘with +all the ardour natural to his character he [Shelley] expressed the +warmest resentment at the imposition practised upon him by his +coadjutor, and entreated me to destroy all the copies, of which about +one hundred had been put into circulation.’ + +4. +TO MARY WHO DIED IN THIS OPINION.—From a letter addressed by Shelley to +Miss Hitchener, dated November 23, 1811. + +5. +A TALE OF SOCIETY.—The titles of this and the following piece were +first given by Professor Dowden from the Esdaile manuscript, from which +also one or two corrections in the text of both poems, made in +Macmillan’s edition of 1890, were derived. + +*** + + +A LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL EDITIONS OF SHELLEY’S POETICAL WORKS, + +SHOWING THE VARIOUS PRINTED SOURCES OF THE CONTENTS OF THIS EDITION. + +1. +(1) Original Poetry; : By : Victor and Cazire. : Call it not vain:—they +do not err, : Who say, that, when the poet dies, : Mute Nature mourns +her worshipper. : “Lay of the Last Minstrel.” : Worthing : Printed by C. +and W. Phillips, : for the Authors; : And sold by J. J. Stockdale, 41, +Pall-Mall, : And all other Booksellers. 1810. + +(2) Original : Poetry : By : Victor & Cazire : [Percy Bysshe Shelley : & +Elizabeth Shelley] : Edited by : Richard Garnett C.B., LL.D. : Published +by : John Lane, at the Sign : of the Bodley Head in : London and New +York : MDCCCXCVIII. + +2. +Posthumous Fragments : of : Margaret Nicholson; : Being Poems Found +Amongst the Papers of that : Noted Female who attempted the Life : of +the King in 1786. : Edited by : John Fitz-Victor. : Oxford: : Printed +and sold by J. Munday : 1810. + +3. +St. Irvyne; : or, : The Rosicrucian. : A Romance. : By : A Gentleman : +of the University of Oxford. : London: : Printed for J. J. Stockdale, : +41, Pall Mall. : 1811. + +4. +The Devil’s Walk; a Ballad. Printed as a broadside, 1812. + +5. +Queen Mab; : a : Philosophical Poem: : with Notes. : By : Percy Bysshe +Shelley. : Ecrasez l’Infame! : “Correspondance de Voltaire.” : Avia +Pieridum peragro loca, nullius ante : Trita solo; iuvat integros +accedere fonteis; : Atque haurire: iuratque (sic) novos decerpere +flores. : Unde prius nulli velarint tempora nausae. : Primum quod magnis +doceo de rebus; et arctis : Religionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo. : +Lucret. lib. 4 : Dos pou sto, kai kosmon kineso. : Archimedes. : London: +: Printed by P. B. Shelley, : 23, Chapel Street, Grosvenor Square. : +1813. + +6. +Alastor; : or, : The Spirit of Solitude: : and Other Poems. : By : Percy +Bysshe Shelley : London : Printed for Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, +Pater-:noster Row; and Carpenter and Son, : Old Bond Street: : By S. +Hamilton, Weybridge, Surrey : 1816. + +7. +(1) Laon and Cythna; : or, : The Revolution : of : the Golden City: : A +Vision of the Nineteenth Century. : In the Stanza of Spenser. : By : +Percy B. Shelley. : Dos pou sto, kai kosmon kineso. : Archimedes. : +London: : Printed for Sherwood, Neely, & Jones, Paternoster-:Row; and C. +and J. Ollier, Welbeck-Street: : By B. M’Millan, Bow-Street, +Covent-Garden. : 1818. + +(2) The : Revolt of Islam; : A Poem, : in Twelve Cantos. : By : Percy +Bysshe Shelley. : London: : Printed for C. and J. Ollier, +Welbeck-Street; : By B. M’Millan, Bow-Street, Covent-Garden. : 1818. + +(3) A few copies of “The Revolt of Islam” bear date 1817 instead of +1818. + +(4) ‘The same sheets were used again in 1829 with a third title-page +similar to the foregoing [2], but with the imprint “London: : Printed +for John Brooks, : 421 Oxford-Street. : 1829.”’ (H. Buxton Forman, C.B.: +The Shelley Library, page 73.) + +(5) ‘Copies of the 1829 issue of “The Revolt of Islam” not infrequently +occur with “Laon and Cythna” text.’ (Ibid., page 73.) + +8. +Rosalind and Helen, : A Modern Eclogue; : With Other Poems: : By : Percy +Bysshe Shelley. : London: : Printed for C. and J. Ollier, : Vere Street, +Bond Street. : 1819. + +9. +(1) The Cenci. : A Tragedy, : In Five Acts. : By Percy B. Shelley. : +Italy. : Printed for C. and J. Ollier, : Vere Street, Bond Street. : +London. : 1819. + +(2) The Cenci : A Tragedy : In Five Acts : By : Percy Bysshe Shelley : +Second Edition : London : C. and J. Ollier Vere Street Bond Street : +1821. + +10. +Prometheus Unbound : A Lyrical Drama : In Four Acts : With Other Poems : +By : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Audisne haec, Amphiarae, sub terram abdite? +: London : C. and J. Ollier Vere Street Bond Street : 1820. + +11. +Oedipus Tyrannus; : or, : Swellfoot The Tyrant. : A Tragedy. : In Two +Acts. : Translated from the Original Doric. : —Choose Reform or +civil-war, : When thro’ thy streets, instead of hare with dogs, A +CONSORT-QUEEN shall hunt a KING with hogs, : Riding on the IONIAN +MINOTAUR. : London: : Published for the Author, : By J. Johnston, 98, +Cheapside, and sold by all booksellers. : 1820. + +12. +Epipsychidion : Verses Addressed to the Noble : And Unfortunate Lady : +Emilia V— : Now Imprisoned in the Convent of — : L’ anima amante si +slancia fuori del creato, e si crea nel infinito : un Mondo tutto per +essa, diverso assai da questo oscuro e pauroso : baratro. Her Own Words. +: London : C. and J. Ollier Vere Street Bond Street : MDCCCXXI. + +13. +(1) Adonais : An Elegy on the Death of John Keats, : Author of Endymion, +Hyperion etc. : By : Percy B. Shelley : Aster prin men elampes eni +zooisin eoos. : Nun de thanon, lampeis esmeros en phthimenois. : Plato. +: Pisa : With the Types of Didot : MDCCCXXI. + +(2) Adonais. : An Elegy : on the : Death of John Keats, : Author of +Endymion, Hyperion, etc. : By : Percy B. Shelley. : [Motto as in (1)] +Cambridge: : Printed by W. Metcalfe, : and sold by Messrs. Gee & +Bridges, Market-Hill. : MDCCCXXIX. + +14. +Hellas : A Lyrical Drama : By : Percy B. Shelley : MANTIS EIM’ ESTHAON +‘AGONON : Oedip. Colon. : London : Charles and James Ollier Vere Street +: Bond Street : MDCCCXXII. (The last work issued in Shelley’s lifetime.) + +15. +Posthumous Poems : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley. : In nobil sangue vita +umile e queta, : Ed in alto intelletto on puro core; : Frutto senile in +sul giovenil fiore, : E in aspetto pensoso anima lieta. : Petrarca. : +London, 1824: : Printed for John and Henry L. Hunt, : Tavistock Street, +Covent Garden. (Edited by Mrs. Shelley.) + +16. +The : Masque of Anarchy. : A Poem. : By Percy Bysshe Shelley. Now first +published, with a Preface : by Leigh Hunt. : Hope is Strong; : Justice +and Truth their winged child have found. : “Revolt of Islam”. : London: +: Edward Moxon, 64, New Bond Street. : 1832. + +17. +The Shelley Papers : Memoir : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : By T. Medwin, +Esq. : And : Original Poems and Papers : By Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Now +first collected. : London: : Whittaker, Treacher, & Co. : 1833. +(The Poems occupy pages 109-126.) + +18. +The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Edited : by Mrs +Shelley. : Lui non trov’ io, ma suoi santi vestigi : Tutti rivolti alla +superna strada : Veggio, lunge da’ laghi averni e stigi.—Petrarca. : In +Four Volumes. : Vol. 1 [2 3 4] : London: : Edward Moxon, Dover Street. : +MDCCCXXXIX. + +19. +(1) The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley: [Vignette of +Shelley’s Tomb.] London. : Edward Moxon, Dover Street. : 1839. +(This is the engraved title-page. The printed title-page runs:—) + +(2) The : Poetical Works : of Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Edited : By Mrs. +Shelley. : [Motto from Petrarch as in 18] London: : Edward Moxon, Dover +Street. : M.DCCC.XL. +(Large octavo, printed in double columns. The Dedication is dated 11th +November, 1839.) + +20. +Essays, : Letters from Abroad, : Translations and Fragments, : By : +Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Edited : By Mrs. Shelley. : [Long prose motto +translated from Schiller] : In Two Volumes. : Volume 1 [2] : London: : +Edward Moxon, Dover Street. : MDCCCXL. + +21. +Relics of Shelley. : Edited by : Richard Garnett. : [Lines 20-24 of “To +Jane”: ‘The keen stars,’ etc.] : London: : Edward Moxon & Co., Dover +Street. : 1862. + +22. +The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley: : Including Various +Additional Pieces : From Manuscript and Other Sources. : The Text +carefully revised, with Notes and : A Memoir, : By William Michael +Rossetti. : Volume 1 [2] : [Moxon’s Device.] : London: : E. Moxon, Son, +& Co., 44 Dover Street, W. : 1870. + +23. +The Daemon of the World : By : Percy Bysshe Shelley : The First Part : +as published in 1816 with “Alastor” : The Second Part : Deciphered and +now First Printed from his own Manuscript : Revision and Interpolations +in the Newly Discovered : Copy of “Queen Mab” : London : Privately +printed by H. Buxton Forman : 38 Marlborough Hill : 1876. + +24. +The Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Edited by : Harry +Buxton Forman : In Four Volumes : Volume 1 [2 3 4] London : Reeves and +Turner 196 Strand : 1876. + +25. +The Complete : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley. : The Text +carefully revised with Notes and : A Memoir, : by : William Michael +Rossetti. : In Three Volumes. : Volume 1 [2 3] London: : E. Moxon, Son, +And Co., : Dorset Buildings, Salisbury Square, E.C. : 1878. + +26. +The Poetical Works : of Percy Bysshe Shelley : Given from His Own +Editions and Other Authentic Sources : Collated with many Manuscripts +and with all Editions of Authority : Together with Prefaces and Notes : +His Poetical Translations and Fragments : and an Appendix of : Juvenilia +: [Publisher’s Device.] Edited by Harry Buxton Forman : In Two Volumes. +: Volume 1 [2] London : Reeves and Turner, 196, Strand : 1882. + +27. +The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Edited by : Edward +Dowden : London : Macmillan and Co, Limited : New York: The Macmillan +Company : 1900. + +28. +The Poetical Works of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Edited with a Memoir by : +H. Buxton Forman : In Five Volumes [Publisher’s Device.] Volume 1 [2 3 4 +5] London : George Bell and Sons : 1892. + +29. +The : Complete Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Text +newly collated and revised : and Edited with a Memoir and Notes : By +George Edward Woodberry : Centenary Edition : In Four Volumes : Volume 1 +[2 3 4] [Publisher’s Device.] London : Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner and +Co. : Limited : 1893. + +30. +An Examination of the : Shelley Manuscripts : In the Bodleian Library : +Being a collation thereof with the printed : texts, resulting in the +publication of : several long fragments hitherto unknown, : and the +introduction of many improved : readings into “Prometheus Unbound”, and +: other poems, by : C.D. Locock, B.A. : Oxford : At the Clarendon Press +: 1903. + +The early poems from the Esdaile manuscript book, which are included in +this edition by the kind permission of the owner of the volume, Charles +E.J. Esdaile, Esq., appeared for the first time in Professor Dowden’s +“Life of Percy Bysshe Shelley”, published in the year 1887. + +One poem from the same volume; entitled “The Wandering Jew’s Soliloquy”, +was printed in one of the Shelley Society Publications (Second Series, +No. 12), a reprint of “The Wandering Jew”, edited by Mr. Bertram Dobell +in 1887. + +*** + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES. + +A cat in distress : +A gentle story of two lovers young : +A glorious people vibrated again : +A golden-winged Angel stood : +A Hater he came and sat by a ditch : +A man who was about to hang himself : +A pale Dream came to a Lady fair : +A portal as of shadowy adamant : +A rainbow’s arch stood on the sea : +A scene, which ‘wildered fancy viewed : +A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew : +A shovel of his ashes took : +A widow bird sate mourning : +A woodman whose rough heart was out of tune : +Ah! faint are her limbs, and her footstep is weary : +Ah! grasp the dire dagger and couch the fell spear : +Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill : +Ah, sister! Desolation is a delicate thing : +Ah! sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain : +Alas! for Liberty! : +Alas, good friend, what profit can you see : +Alas! this is not what I thought life was : +Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled : +Amid the desolation of a city : +Among the guests who often stayed : +An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king : +And can’st thou mock mine agony, thus calm : +And earnest to explore within—around : +And ever as he went he swept a lyre : +And, if my grief should still be dearer to me : +And like a dying lady, lean and pale : +And many there were hurt by that strong boy : +And Peter Bell, when he had been : +And said I that all hope was fled : +And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal : +And the cloven waters like a chasm of mountains : +And when the old man saw that on the green : +And where is truth? On tombs? for such to thee : +And who feels discord now or sorrow? : +Arethusa arose : +Ariel to Miranda:—Take : +Arise, arise, arise! : +Art thou indeed forever gone : +Art thou pale for weariness : +As a violet’s gentle eye : +As from an ancestral oak : +As I lay asleep in Italy : +As the sunrise to the night : +Ask not the pallid stranger’s woe : +At the creation of the Earth : +Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon : + +Bear witness, Erin! when thine injured isle : +Before those cruel Twins, whom at one birth : +Beside the dimness of the glimmering sea : +Best and brightest, come away! : +Break the dance, and scatter the song : +Bright ball of flame that through the gloom of even : +Bright clouds float in heaven : +Bright wanderer, fair coquette of Heaven : +Brothers! between you and me : +‘Buona notte, buona notte!’—Come mai : +By the mossy brink : + +Chameleons feed on light and air : +Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling : +Come, be happy!—sit near me : +Come [Harriet]! sweet is the hour : +Come hither, my sweet Rosalind : +Come, thou awakener of the spirit’s ocean : +Corpses are cold in the tomb : + +Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind : +Dar’st thou amid the varied multitude : +Darkness has dawned in the East : +Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody : +Dear home, thou scene of earliest hopes and joys : +Dearest, best and brightest : +Death is here and death is there : +Death! where is thy victory? : +Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end? +Do you not hear the Aziola cry? : + +Eagle! why soarest thou above that tomb? : +Earth, ocean, air, beloved brotherhood : +Echoes we: listen! +Ever as now with Love and Virtue’s glow : + +Faint with love, the Lady of the South : +Fairest of the Destinies : +False friend, wilt thou smile or weep : +Far, far away, O ye : +Fiend, I defy thee! with a calm, fixed mind : +Fierce roars the midnight storm : +Flourishing vine, whose kindling clusters glow : +Follow to the deep wood’s weeds : +For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble : +For my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave : +For your letter, dear [Hattie], accept my best thanks : +From all the blasts of heaven thou hast descended : +From the cities where from caves : +From the ends of the earth, from the ends of the earth : +From the forests and highlands : +From unremembered ages we : + +Gather, O gather : +Ghosts of the dead! have I not heard your yelling : +God prosper, speed, and save : +Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill : +Great Spirit whom the sea of boundless thought : +Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, and I : + +Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! : +Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind : +Hark! the owlet flaps her wing : +Hark! the owlet flaps his wings : +Hast thou not seen, officious with delight : +He came like a dream in the dawn of life : +He wanders, like a day-appearing dream : +Hell is a city much like London : +Her hair was brown, her sphered eyes were brown : +Her voice did quiver as we parted : +Here I sit with my paper, my pen and my ink : +‘Here lieth One whose name was writ on water’ : +Here, my dear friend, is a new book for you : +Here, oh, here : +Hic sinu fessum caput hospitali : +His face was like a snake’s—wrinkled and loose : +Honey from silkworms who can gather : +Hopes, that swell in youthful breasts : +How eloquent are eyes : +How, my dear Mary,—are you critic-bitten : +How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner : +How sweet it is to sit and read the tales : +How swiftly through Heaven’s wide expanse : +How wonderful is Death : +How wonderful is Death : + +I am afraid these verses will not please you, but : +I am as a spirit who has dwelt : +I am drunk with the honey wine : +I arise from dreams of thee : +I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers : +I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way : +I dreamed that Milton’s spirit rose, and took : +I faint, I perish with my love! I grow : +I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden : +I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan : +I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake : +I loved—alas! our life is love : +I met a traveller from an antique land : +I mourn Adonis dead—loveliest Adonis : +I pant for the music which is divine : +I rode one evening with Count Maddalo : +I sate beside a sage’s bed : +I sate beside the Steersman then, and gazing : +I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes : +I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret : +I stood within the City disinterred : +I weep for Adonais—he is dead’ : +I went into the deserts of dim sleep : +I would not be a king—enough : +If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains : +If I esteemed you less, Envy would kill : +If I walk in Autumn’s even : +In the cave which wild weeds cover : +In the sweet solitude of this calm place : +Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula colles : +Is it that in some brighter sphere : +Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He : +Is not to-day enough? Why do I peer : +It is not blasphemy to hope that Heaven : +It is the day when all the sons of God : +It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky : +It was a bright and cheerful afternoon : + +Kissing Helena, together : + +Let there be light! said Liberty : +Let those who pine in pride or in revenge : +Life of Life! thy lips enkindle : +Lift not the painted veil which those who live : +Like the ghost of a dear friend dead : +Listen, listen, Mary mine : +Lo, Peter in Hell’s Grosvenor Square : + +Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me : +Maiden, quench the glare of sorrow : +Many a green isle needs must be : +Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse : +Men of England, wherefore plough : +Methought I was a billow in the crowd : +Mighty eagle! thou that soarest : +Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed : +Monarch of Gods and Daemons, and all Spirits : +Month after month the gathered rains descend : +Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale : +Muse, sing the deeds of golden Aphrodite : +Music, when soft voices die : +My coursers are fed with the lightning : +My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone : +My faint spirit was sitting in the light : +My head is heavy, my limbs are weary : +My head is wild with weeping for a grief : +My lost William, thou in whom : +My Song, I fear that thou wilt find but few : +My soul is an enchanted boat : +My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim : +My thoughts arise and fade in solitude : +My wings are folded o’er mine ears : + +Night, with all thine eyes look down! : +Night! with all thine eyes look down! : +No access to the Duke! You have not said : +No, Music, thou art not the ‘food of Love’ : +No trump tells thy virtues : +Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame : +Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill : +Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still : +Now the last day of many days : + +O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now : +O happy Earth! reality of Heaven : +O Mary dear, that you were here : +O mighty mind, in whose deep stream this age : +O pillow cold and wet with tears! : +O Slavery! thou frost of the world’s prime : +O that a chariot of cloud were mine! : +O that mine enemy had written : +O thou bright Sun! beneath the dark blue line : +O thou immortal deity : +O thou, who plumed with strong desire : +O universal Mother, who dost keep : +O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being : +O world! O life! O time! : +Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once more : +Oh! did you observe the black Canon pass : +Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes : +Oh! there are spirits of the air : +Oh! what is the gain of restless care : +On a battle-trumpet’s blast : +On a poet’s lips I slept : +On the brink of the night and the morning : +Once, early in the morning : +One sung of thee who left the tale untold : +One word is too often profaned : +Orphan Hours, the Year is dead : +Our boat is asleep on Serchio’s stream : +Our spoil is won : +Out of the eastern shadow of the Earth : +Over the utmost hill at length I sped : + +Palace-roof of cloudless nights! : +Pan loved his neighbour Echo—but that child : +People of England, ye who toil and groan : +Peter Bells, one, two and three : +Place, for the Marshal of the Masque! : +Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know : +Prince Athanase had one beloved friend : + +Rarely, rarely, comest thou : +Reach me that handkerchief!—My brain is hurt : +Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit : +Rome has fallen, ye see it lying : +Rough wind, that moanest loud : + +Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth : +See yon opening flower : +Serene in his unconquerable might : +Shall we roam, my love : +She comes not; yet I left her even now : +She left me at the silent time : +She saw me not—she heard me not—alone : +She was an aged woman; and the years : +Silence! Oh, well are Death and Sleep and Thou : +Silver key of the fountain of tears : +Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove : +Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain : +So now my summer task is ended, Mary : +So we sate joyous as the morning ray : +Stern, stern is the voice of fate’s fearful command : +Such hope, as is the sick despair of good : +Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds : +Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring : +Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan one : +Sweet star, which gleaming o’er the darksome scene : +Swift as a spirit hastening to his task : +Swifter far than summer’s flight : +Swiftly walk o’er the western wave : + +Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light : +That matter of the murder is hushed up : +That night we anchored in a woody bay : +That time is dead for ever, child! : +The awful shadow of some unseen Power : +The babe is at peace within the womb : +The billows on the beach are leaping around it : +The cold earth slept below : +The curtain of the Universe : +The death-bell beats! : +The death knell is ringing : +The Devil, I safely can aver : +The Devil now knew his proper cue : +The Elements respect their Maker’s seal! : +The everlasting universe of things : +The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses : +The fiery mountains answer each other : +The fitful alternations of the rain : +The flower that smiles to-day : +The fountains mingle with the river : +The gentleness of rain was in the wind : +The golden gates of Sleep unbar : +The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness : +The keen stars were twinkling : +The odour from the flower is gone : +The old man took the oars, and soon the bark : +The pale stars are gone : +The pale stars of the morn : +The pale, the cold, and the moony smile : +The path through which that lovely twain : +The rose that drinks the fountain dew : +The rude wind is singing : +The season was the childhood of sweet June : +The serpent is shut out from Paradise : +The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie : +The spider spreads her webs, whether she be : +The starlight smile of children, the sweet looks : +The stars may dissolve, and the fountain of light : +The sun is set; the swallows are asleep : +The sun is warm, the sky is clear : +The sun makes music as of old : +The transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness : +The viewless and invisible Consequence : +The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth : +The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing : +The waters are flashing : +The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere : +The world is dreary : +The world is now our dwelling-place : +The world’s great age begins anew : +Then weave the web of the mystic measure : +There is a voice, not understood by all : +There is a warm and gentle atmosphere : +There late was One within whose subtle being : +There was a little lawny islet : +There was a youth, who, as with toil and travel : +These are two friends whose lives were undivided : +They die—the dead return not—Misery : +Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil : +Thou art fair, and few are fairer : +Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all : +Thou living light that in thy rainbow hues : +Thou supreme Goddess! by whose power divine : +Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be : +Thou wert the morning star among the living : +Thrice three hundred thousand years : +Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die : +Thy beauty hangs around thee like : +Thy country’s curse is on thee, darkest crest : +Thy dewy looks sink in my breast : +Thy little footsteps on the sands : +Thy look of love has power to calm : +’Tis midnight now—athwart the murky air : +’Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail : +To me this world’s a dreary blank : +To the deep, to the deep : +To thirst and find no fill—to wail and wander : +Tremble, Kings despised of man : +’Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings : +’Twas at this season that Prince Athanase : +’Twas dead of the night, when I sat in my dwelling : +’Twas dead of the night when I sate in my dwelling : + +Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years : +Unrisen splendour of the brightest sun : + +Vessels of heavenly medicine! may the breeze : +Victorious Wrong, with vulture scream : + +Wake the serpent not—lest he : +Was there a human spirit in the steed : +We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon : +We come from the mind : +We join the throng : +We meet not as we parted : +We strew these opiate flowers : +Wealth and dominion fade into the mass : +Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze : +Weep not, my gentle boy; he struck but me : +What! alive and so bold, O Earth? : +What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest : +What Mary is when she a little smiles : +What men gain fairly—that they should possess : +‘What think you the dead are?’ : +What thoughts had sway o’er Cythna’s lonely slumber : +What was the shriek that struck Fancy’s ear : +When a lover clasps his fairest : +When May is painting with her colours gay : +When passion’s trance is overpast : +When soft winds and sunny skies : +When the lamp is shattered : +When the last hope of trampled France had failed : +When winds that move not its calm surface sweep : +Where art thou, beloved To-morrow? : +Where man’s profane and tainting hand : +Whose is the love that gleaming through the world : +Why is it said thou canst not live : +Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one : +Wilt thou forget the happy hours : +Within a cavern of man’s trackless spirit : +Worlds on worlds are rolling ever : +Would I were the winged cloud : + +Ye congregated powers of heaven, who share : +Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud : +Ye gentle visitations of calm thought : +Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there : +Ye who intelligent the Third Heaven move : +Ye wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove : +Yes! all is past—swift time has fled away : +Yes, often when the eyes are cold and dry : +Yet look on me—take not thine eyes away : +You said that spirits spoke, but it was thee : +Your call was as a winged car : + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 4800 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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