Revised and completed from the
Boscombe manuscript by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P.
Boscombe manuscript by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P.
Shelley
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 were 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.
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 were 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.
