Chapter LXI: Conclusion (6)

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.