Chapter LXII: Conclusion (7)

FLORO: It seems Much to me that the light of day should look Upon that idol of my heart—but he— _265 Leave us to fight, according to thy word.

CYPRIAN: Permit one question further: is the lady Impossible to hope or not?

LELIO: She is So excellent, that if the light of day Should excite Floro’s jealousy, it were _270 Without just cause, for even the light of day Trembles to gaze on her.

CYPRIAN: Would you for your Part, marry her?

FLORO: Such is my confidence.

CYPRIAN: And you?

LELIO: Oh! would that I could lift my hope So high, for though she is extremely poor, _275 Her virtue is her dowry.

CYPRIAN: And if you both Would marry her, is it not weak and vain, Culpable and unworthy, thus beforehand To slur her honour? What would the world say If one should slay the other, and if she _280 Should afterwards espouse the murderer?

[THE RIVALS AGREE TO REFER THEIR QUARREL TO CYPRIAN; WHO IN CONSEQUENCE VISITS JUSTINA, AND BECOMES ENAMOURED OF HER; SHE DISDAINS HIM, AND HE RETIRES TO A SOLITARY SEA-SHORE.]

SCENE 2.

CYPRIAN: O memory! permit it not That the tyrant of my thought Be another soul that still Holds dominion o’er the will, That would refuse, but can no more, _5 To bend, to tremble, and adore. Vain idolatry!—I saw, And gazing, became blind with error; Weak ambition, which the awe Of her presence bound to terror! _10 So beautiful she was—and I, Between my love and jealousy, Am so convulsed with hope and fear, Unworthy as it may appear;— So bitter is the life I live, _15 That, hear me, Hell! I now would give To thy most detested spirit My soul, for ever to inherit, To suffer punishment and pine, So this woman may be mine. _20 Hear’st thou, Hell! dost thou reject it? My soul is offered!

DAEMON (UNSEEN): I accept it.

[TEMPEST, WITH THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.]

CYPRIAN: What is this? ye heavens for ever pure, At once intensely radiant and obscure! Athwart the aethereal halls _25 The lightning’s arrow and the thunder-balls The day affright, As from the horizon round, Burst with earthquake sound, In mighty torrents the electric fountains;— _30 Clouds quench the sun, and thunder-smoke Strangles the air, and fire eclipses Heaven. Philosophy, thou canst not even Compel their causes underneath thy yoke: From yonder clouds even to the waves below _35 The fragments of a single ruin choke Imagination’s flight; For, on flakes of surge, like feathers light, The ashes of the desolation, cast Upon the gloomy blast, _40 Tell of the footsteps of the storm; And nearer, see, the melancholy form Of a great ship, the outcast of the sea, Drives miserably! And it must fly the pity of the port, _45 Or perish, and its last and sole resort Is its own raging enemy. The terror of the thrilling cry Was a fatal prophecy Of coming death, who hovers now _50 Upon that shattered prow, That they who die not may be dying still. And not alone the insane elements Are populous with wild portents, But that sad ship is as a miracle _55 Of sudden ruin, for it drives so fast It seems as if it had arrayed its form With the headlong storm. It strikes—I almost feel the shock,— It stumbles on a jagged rock,— _60 Sparkles of blood on the white foam are cast.

[A TEMPEST.]

ALL EXCLAIM [WITHIN]: We are all lost!

DAEMON [WITHIN]: Now from this plank will I Pass to the land and thus fulfil my scheme.

CYPRIAN: As in contempt of the elemental rage A man comes forth in safety, while the ship’s _65 Great form is in a watery eclipse Obliterated from the Oceans page, And round its wreck the huge sea-monsters sit, A horrid conclave, and the whistling wave Is heaped over its carcase, like a grave. _70

[THE DAEMON ENTERS, AS ESCAPED FROM THE SEA.]

DAEMON [ASIDE]: It was essential to my purposes To wake a tumult on the sapphire ocean, That in this unknown form I might at length Wipe out the blot of the discomfiture Sustained upon the mountain, and assail _75 With a new war the soul of Cyprian, Forging the instruments of his destruction Even from his love and from his wisdom.—O Beloved earth, dear mother, in thy bosom I seek a refuge from the monster who _80 Precipitates itself upon me.

CYPRIAN: Friend, Collect thyself; and be the memory Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrow But as a shadow of the past,—for nothing Beneath the circle of the moon, but flows _85 And changes, and can never know repose.

DAEMON: And who art thou, before whose feet my fate Has prostrated me?

CYPRIAN: One who, moved with pity, Would soothe its stings.

DAEMON: Oh, that can never be! No solace can my lasting sorrows find. _90

CYPRIAN: Wherefore?

DAEMON: Because my happiness is lost. Yet I lament what has long ceased to be The object of desire or memory, And my life is not life.

CYPRIAN: Now, since the fury Of this earthquaking hurricane is still, _95 And the crystalline Heaven has reassumed Its windless calm so quickly, that it seems As if its heavy wrath had been awakened Only to overwhelm that vessel,—speak, Who art thou, and whence comest thou?

DAEMON: Far more _100 My coming hither cost, than thou hast seen Or I can tell. Among my misadventures This shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou hear?

CYPRIAN: Speak.

DAEMON: Since thou desirest, I will then unveil Myself to thee;—for in myself I am _105 A world of happiness and misery; This I have lost, and that I must lament Forever. In my attributes I stood So high and so heroically great, In lineage so supreme, and with a genius _110 Which penetrated with a glance the world Beneath my feet, that, won by my high merit, A king—whom I may call the King of kings, Because all others tremble in their pride Before the terrors of His countenance, _115 In His high palace roofed with brightest gems Of living light—call them the stars of Heaven— Named me His counsellor. But the high praise Stung me with pride and envy, and I rose In mighty competition, to ascend _120 His seat and place my foot triumphantly Upon His subject thrones. Chastised, I know The depth to which ambition falls; too mad Was the attempt, and yet more mad were now Repentance of the irrevocable deed:— _125 Therefore I chose this ruin, with the glory Of not to be subdued, before the shame Of reconciling me with Him who reigns By coward cession.—Nor was I alone, Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone; _130 And there was hope, and there may still be hope, For many suffrages among His vassals Hailed me their lord and king, and many still Are mine, and many more, perchance shall be. Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious, _135 I left His seat of empire, from mine eye Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words With inauspicious thunderings shook Heaven, Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong, And imprecating on His prostrate slaves _140 Rapine, and death, and outrage. Then I sailed Over the mighty fabric of the world,— A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands, A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves And craggy shores; and I have wandered over _145 The expanse of these wide wildernesses In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved In the light breathings of the invisible wind, And which the sea has made a dustless ruin, Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests _150 I seek a man, whom I must now compel To keep his word with me. I came arrayed In tempest, and although my power could well Bridle the forest winds in their career, For other causes I forbore to soothe _155 Their fury to Favonian gentleness; I could and would not; [ASIDE.] (thus I wake in him A love of magic art). Let not this tempest, Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder; For by my art the sun would turn as pale _160 As his weak sister with unwonted fear; And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven Written as in a record; I have pierced The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres And know them as thou knowest every corner _165 Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work A charm over this waste and savage wood, This Babylon of crags and aged trees, Filling its leafy coverts with a horror _170 Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest Of these wild oaks and pines—and as from thee I have received the hospitality Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit Of years of toil in recompense; whate’er _175 Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought As object of desire, that shall be thine.

...

And thenceforth shall so firm an amity ’Twixt thee and me be, that neither Fortune, The monstrous phantom which pursues success, _180 That careful miser, that free prodigal, Who ever alternates, with changeful hand, Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time, That lodestar of the ages, to whose beam The winged years speed o’er the intervals _185 Of their unequal revolutions; nor Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars Rule and adorn the world, can ever make The least division between thee and me, Since now I find a refuge in thy favour. _190

NOTES: _146 wide glassy wildernesses Rossetti. _150 Seeking forever cj. Forman. _154 forest]fiercest cj. Rossetti.

SCENE 3.

THE DAEMON TEMPTS JUSTINA, WHO IS A CHRISTIAN.

DAEMON: Abyss of Hell! I call on thee, Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy! From thy prison-house set free The spirits of voluptuous death, That with their mighty breath _5 They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts; Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes Be peopled from thy shadowy deep, Till her guiltless fantasy Full to overflowing be! _10 And with sweetest harmony, Let birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things move To love, only to love. Let nothing meet her eyes But signs of Love’s soft victories; _15 Let nothing meet her ear But sounds of Love’s sweet sorrow, So that from faith no succour she may borrow, But, guided by my spirit blind And in a magic snare entwined, _20 She may now seek Cyprian. Begin, while I in silence bind My voice, when thy sweet song thou hast began.

NOTE: _18 she may]may she 1824.

A VOICE [WITHIN]: What is the glory far above All else in human life?

ALL: Love! love! _25

[WHILE THESE WORDS ARE SUNG, THE DAEMON GOES OUT AT ONE DOOR, AND JUSTINA ENTERS AT ANOTHER.]

THE FIRST VOICE: There is no form in which the fire Of love its traces has impressed not. Man lives far more in love’s desire Than by life’s breath, soon possessed not. If all that lives must love or die, _30 All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky, With one consent to Heaven cry That the glory far above All else in life is—

ALL: Love! oh, Love!

JUSTINA: Thou melancholy Thought which art _35 So flattering and so sweet, to thee When did I give the liberty Thus to afflict my heart? What is the cause of this new Power Which doth my fevered being move, _40 Momently raging more and more? What subtle Pain is kindled now Which from my heart doth overflow Into my senses?—

NOTE: _36 flattering Boscombe manuscript; fluttering 1824.

ALL: Love! oh, Love!

JUSTINA: ’Tis that enamoured Nightingale _45 Who gives me the reply; He ever tells the same soft tale Of passion and of constancy To his mate, who rapt and fond, Listening sits, a bough beyond. _50

Be silent, Nightingale—no more Make me think, in hearing thee Thus tenderly thy love deplore, If a bird can feel his so, What a man would feel for me. _55 And, voluptuous Vine, O thou Who seekest most when least pursuing,— To the trunk thou interlacest Art the verdure which embracest, And the weight which is its ruin,— _60 No more, with green embraces, Vine, Make me think on what thou lovest,— For whilst thus thy boughs entwine I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist, How arms might be entangled too. _65

Light-enchanted Sunflower, thou Who gazest ever true and tender On the sun’s revolving splendour! Follow not his faithless glance With thy faded countenance, _70 Nor teach my beating heart to fear, If leaves can mourn without a tear, How eyes must weep! O Nightingale, Cease from thy enamoured tale,— Leafy Vine, unwreathe thy bower, _75 Restless Sunflower, cease to move,— Or tell me all, what poisonous Power Ye use against me—

NOTES: _58 To]Who to cj. Rossetti. _63 whilst thus Rossetti, Forman, Dowden; whilst thou thus 1824.

ALL: Love! Love! Love!

JUSTINA: It cannot be!—Whom have I ever loved? Trophies of my oblivion and disdain, _80 Floro and Lelio did I not reject? And Cyprian?— [SHE BECOMES TROUBLED AT THE NAME OF CYPRIAN.] Did I not requite him With such severity, that he has fled Where none has ever heard of him again?— Alas! I now begin to fear that this _85 May be the occasion whence desire grows bold, As if there were no danger. From the moment That I pronounced to my own listening heart, ‘Cyprian is absent!’—O me miserable! I know not what I feel! [MORE CALMLY.] It must be pity _90 To think that such a man, whom all the world Admired, should be forgot by all the world, And I the cause. [SHE AGAIN BECOMES TROUBLED.] And yet if it were pity, Floro and Lelio might have equal share, For they are both imprisoned for my sake. _95 [CALMLY.] Alas! what reasonings are these? it is Enough I pity him, and that, in vain, Without this ceremonious subtlety. And, woe is me! I know not where to find him now, Even should I seek him through this wide world. _100

NOTE: _89 me miserable]miserable me editions 1839.

[ENTER DAEMON.]

DAEMON: Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.

JUSTINA: And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither, Into my chamber through the doors and locks? Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madness Has formed in the idle air?

DAEMON: No. I am one _105 Called by the Thought which tyrannizes thee From his eternal dwelling; who this day Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian.

JUSTINA: So shall thy promise fail. This agony Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul _110 May sweep imagination in its storm; The will is firm.

DAEMON: Already half is done In the imagination of an act. The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains; Let not the will stop half-way on the road. _115

JUSTINA: I will not be discouraged, nor despair, Although I thought it, and although ’tis true That thought is but a prelude to the deed:— Thought is not in my power, but action is: I will not move my foot to follow thee. _120

DAEMON: But a far mightier wisdom than thine own Exerts itself within thee, with such power Compelling thee to that which it inclines That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then Resist, Justina?

NOTE: _123 inclines]inclines to cj. Rossetti.

JUSTINA: By my free-will.

DAEMON: I _125 Must force thy will.

JUSTINA: It is invincible; It were not free if thou hadst power upon it.

[HE DRAWS, BUT CANNOT MOVE HER.]

DAEMON: Come, where a pleasure waits thee.

JUSTINA: It were bought Too dear.

DAEMON: ‘Twill soothe thy heart to softest peace.

JUSTINA: ’Tis dread captivity.

DAEMON: ’Tis joy, ’tis glory. _130

JUSTINA: ’Tis shame, ’tis torment, ’tis despair.

DAEMON: But how Canst thou defend thyself from that or me, If my power drags thee onward?

JUSTINA: My defence Consists in God.

[HE VAINLY ENDEAVOURS TO FORCE HER, AND AT LAST RELEASES HER.]

DAEMON: Woman, thou hast subdued me, Only by not owning thyself subdued. _135 But since thou thus findest defence in God, I will assume a feigned form, and thus Make thee a victim of my baffled rage. For I will mask a spirit in thy form Who will betray thy name to infamy, _140 And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss, First by dishonouring thee, and then by turning False pleasure to true ignominy.

[EXIT.]

JUSTINA: I Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven May scatter thy delusions, and the blot _145 Upon my fame vanish in idle thought, Even as flame dies in the envious air, And as the floweret wanes at morning frost; And thou shouldst never—But, alas! to whom Do I still speak?—Did not a man but now _150 Stand here before me?—No, I am alone, And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly? Or can the heated mind engender shapes From its own fear? Some terrible and strange Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord! _155 Livia!—

[ENTER LISANDER AND LIVIA.]

LISANDER: Oh, my daughter! What?

LIVIA: What!

JUSTINA: Saw you A man go forth from my apartment now?— I scarce contain myself!

LISANDER: A man here!

JUSTINA: Have you not seen him?

LIVIA: No, Lady.

JUSTINA: I saw him.

LISANDER: ’Tis impossible; the doors _160 Which led to this apartment were all locked.

LIVIA [ASIDE]: I daresay it was Moscon whom she saw, For he was locked up in my room.

LISANDER: It must Have been some image of thy fantasy. Such melancholy as thou feedest is _165 Skilful in forming such in the vain air Out of the motes and atoms of the day.

LIVIA: My master’s in the right.

JUSTINA: Oh, would it were Delusion; but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom _170 My heart was torn in fragments; ay, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame; So potent was the charm that, had not God Shielded my humble innocence from wrong, I should have sought my sorrow and my shame _175 With willing steps.—Livia, quick, bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremes Even in the temple of the highest God Where secretly the faithful worship.

LIVIA: Here.

NOTE: _179 Where Rossetti; Which 1824.

JUSTINA [PUTTING ON HER CLOAK]: In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I _180 Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, Wasting away!

LISANDER: And I will go with thee.

LIVIA: When I once see them safe out of the house I shall breathe freely.

JUSTINA: So do I confide In thy just favour, Heaven!

LISANDER: Let us go. _185

JUSTINA: Thine is the cause, great God! turn for my sake, And for Thine own, mercifully to me!

***

STANZAS FROM CALDERON’S CISMA DE INGLATERRA.

TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY.

[Published by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847, with Shelley’s corrections in ‘‘.]

1. Hast thou not seen, officious with delight, Move through the illumined air about the flower The Bee, that fears to drink its purple light, Lest danger lurk within that Rose’s bower? Hast thou not marked the moth’s enamoured flight _5 About the Taper’s flame at evening hour; ‘Till kindle in that monumental fire His sunflower wings their own funereal pyre?

2. My heart, its wishes trembling to unfold. Thus round the Rose and Taper hovering came, _10 ‘And Passion’s slave, Distrust, in ashes cold. Smothered awhile, but could not quench the flame,’— Till Love, that grows by disappointment bold, And Opportunity, had conquered Shame; And like the Bee and Moth, in act to close, _15 ‘I burned my wings, and settled on the Rose.’

***

SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.

[Published in part (Scene 2) in “The Liberal”, No. 1, 1822; in full, by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.]

SCENE 1.—PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN.

THE LORD AND THE HOST OF HEAVEN.

ENTER THREE ARCHANGELS.

RAPHAEL: The sun makes music as of old Amid the rival spheres of Heaven, On its predestined circle rolled With thunder speed: the Angels even Draw strength from gazing on its glance, _5 Though none its meaning fathom may:— The world’s unwithered countenance Is bright as at Creation’s day.

GABRIEL: And swift and swift, with rapid lightness, The adorned Earth spins silently, _10 Alternating Elysian brightness With deep and dreadful night; the sea Foams in broad billows from the deep Up to the rocks, and rocks and Ocean, Onward, with spheres which never sleep, _15 Are hurried in eternal motion.

MICHAEL: And tempests in contention roar From land to sea, from sea to land; And, raging, weave a chain of power, Which girds the earth, as with a band.— _20 A flashing desolation there, Flames before the thunder’s way; But Thy servants, Lord, revere The gentle changes of Thy day.

CHORUS OF THE THREE: The Angels draw strength from Thy glance, _25 Though no one comprehend Thee may;— Thy world’s unwithered countenance Is bright as on Creation’s day.

NOTE: _28 (RAPHAEL: The sun sounds, according to ancient custom, In the song of emulation of his brother-spheres. And its fore-written circle Fulfils with a step of thunder. Its countenance gives the Angels strength Though no one can fathom it. The incredible high works Are excellent as at the first day.

GABRIEL: And swift, and inconceivably swift The adornment of earth winds itself round, And exchanges Paradise-clearness With deep dreadful night. The sea foams in broad waves From its deep bottom, up to the rocks, And rocks and sea are torn on together In the eternal swift course of the spheres.

MICHAEL: And storms roar in emulation From sea to land, from land to sea, And make, raging, a chain Of deepest operation round about. There flames a flashing destruction Before the path of the thunderbolt. But Thy servants, Lord, revere The gentle alternations of Thy day.

CHORUS: Thy countenance gives the Angels strength, Though none can comprehend Thee: And all Thy lofty works Are excellent as at the first day.

Such is a literal translation of this astonishing chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.])

[ENTER MEPHISTOPHELES.]

MEPHISTOPHELES: As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough To interest Thyself in our affairs, _30 And ask, ‘How goes it with you there below?’ And as indulgently at other times Thou tookest not my visits in ill part, Thou seest me here once more among Thy household. Though I should scandalize this company, _35 You will excuse me if I do not talk In the high style which they think fashionable; My pathos certainly would make You laugh too, Had You not long since given over laughing. Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds; _40 I observe only how men plague themselves;— The little god o’ the world keeps the same stamp, As wonderful as on creation’s day:— A little better would he live, hadst Thou Not given him a glimpse of Heaven’s light _45 Which he calls reason, and employs it only To live more beastlily than any beast. With reverence to Your Lordship be it spoken, He’s like one of those long-legged grasshoppers, Who flits and jumps about, and sings for ever _50 The same old song i’ the grass. There let him lie, Burying his nose in every heap of dung.

NOTES: _38 certainly would editions 1839; would certainly 1824. _47 beastlily 1824; beastily editions 1839.

THE LORD: Have you no more to say? Do you come here Always to scold, and cavil, and complain? Seems nothing ever right to you on earth? _55

MEPHISTOPHELES: No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best. Even I am sorry for man’s days of sorrow; I could myself almost give up the pleasure Of plaguing the poor things.

THE LORD: Knowest thou Faust?

MEPHISTOPHELES: The Doctor?

THE LORD: Ay; My servant Faust.

MEPHISTOPHELES: In truth _60 He serves You in a fashion quite his own; And the fool’s meat and drink are not of earth. His aspirations bear him on so far That he is half aware of his own folly, For he demands from Heaven its fairest star, _65 And from the earth the highest joy it bears, Yet all things far, and all things near, are vain To calm the deep emotions of his breast.

THE LORD: Though he now serves Me in a cloud of error, I will soon lead him forth to the clear day. _70 When trees look green, full well the gardener knows That fruits and blooms will deck the coming year.

MEPHISTOPHELES: What will You bet?—now am sure of winning— Only, observe You give me full permission To lead him softly on my path.

THE LORD: As long _75 As he shall live upon the earth, so long Is nothing unto thee forbidden—Man Must err till he has ceased to struggle.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Thanks. And that is all I ask; for willingly I never make acquaintance with the dead. _80 The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me, And if a corpse knocks, I am not at home. For I am like a cat—I like to play A little with the mouse before I eat it.

THE LORD: Well, well! it is permitted thee. Draw thou _85 His spirit from its springs; as thou find’st power Seize him and lead him on thy downward path; And stand ashamed when failure teaches thee That a good man, even in his darkest longings, Is well aware of the right way.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Well and good. _90 I am not in much doubt about my bet, And if I lose, then ’tis Your turn to crow; Enjoy Your triumph then with a full breast. Ay; dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure, Like my old paramour, the famous Snake. _95

THE LORD: Pray come here when it suits you; for I never Had much dislike for people of your sort. And, among all the Spirits who rebelled, The knave was ever the least tedious to Me. The active spirit of man soon sleeps, and soon _100 He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore I Have given him the Devil for a companion, Who may provoke him to some sort of work, And must create forever.—But ye, pure Children of God, enjoy eternal beauty;— _105 Let that which ever operates and lives Clasp you within the limits of its love; And seize with sweet and melancholy thoughts The floating phantoms of its loveliness.

[HEAVEN CLOSES; THE ARCHANGELS EXEUNT.]

MEPHISTOPHELES: From time to time I visit the old fellow, _110 And I take care to keep on good terms with Him. Civil enough is the same God Almighty, To talk so freely with the Devil himself.

SCENE 2.—MAY-DAY NIGHT.

THE HARTZ MOUNTAIN, A DESOLATE COUNTRY.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Would you not like a broomstick? As for me I wish I had a good stout ram to ride; For we are still far from the appointed place.

FAUST: This knotted staff is help enough for me, Whilst I feel fresh upon my legs. What good _5 Is there in making short a pleasant way? To creep along the labyrinths of the vales, And climb those rocks, where ever-babbling springs, Precipitate themselves in waterfalls, Is the true sport that seasons such a path. _10 Already Spring kindles the birchen spray, And the hoar pines already feel her breath: Shall she not work also within our limbs?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Nothing of such an influence do I feel. My body is all wintry, and I wish _15 The flowers upon our path were frost and snow. But see how melancholy rises now, Dimly uplifting her belated beam, The blank unwelcome round of the red moon, And gives so bad a light, that every step _20 One stumbles ’gainst some crag. With your permission, I’ll call on Ignis-fatuus to our aid: I see one yonder burning jollily. Halloo, my friend! may I request that you Would favour us with your bright company? _25 Why should you blaze away there to no purpose? Pray be so good as light us up this way.

IGNIS-FATUUS: With reverence be it spoken, I will try To overcome the lightness of my nature; Our course, you know, is generally zigzag. _30

MEPHISTOPHELES: Ha, ha! your worship thinks you have to deal With men. Go straight on, in the Devil’s name, Or I shall puff your flickering life out.

NOTE: _33 shall puff 1824; will blow 1822.

IGNIS-FATUUS: Well, I see you are the master of the house; I will accommodate myself to you. _35 Only consider that to-night this mountain Is all enchanted, and if Jack-a-lantern Shows you his way, though you should miss your own, You ought not to be too exact with him.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, AND IGNIS-FATUUS, IN ALTERNATE CHORUS: The limits of the sphere of dream, _40 The bounds of true and false, are past. Lead us on, thou wandering Gleam, Lead us onward, far and fast, To the wide, the desert waste.

But see, how swift advance and shift _45 Trees behind trees, row by row,— How, clift by clift, rocks bend and lift Their frowning foreheads as we go. The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho! How they snort, and how they blow! _50

Through the mossy sods and stones, Stream and streamlet hurry down— A rushing throng! A sound of song Beneath the vault of Heaven is blown! Sweet notes of love, the speaking tones _55 Of this bright day, sent down to say That Paradise on Earth is known, Resound around, beneath, above. All we hope and all we love Finds a voice in this blithe strain, _60 Which wakens hill and wood and rill, And vibrates far o’er field and vale, And which Echo, like the tale Of old times, repeats again.

To-whoo! to-whoo! near, nearer now _65 The sound of song, the rushing throng! Are the screech, the lapwing, and the jay, All awake as if ’twere day? See, with long legs and belly wide, A salamander in the brake! _70 Every root is like a snake, And along the loose hillside, With strange contortions through the night, Curls, to seize or to affright; And, animated, strong, and many, _75 They dart forth polypus-antennae, To blister with their poison spume The wanderer. Through the dazzling gloom The many-coloured mice, that thread The dewy turf beneath our tread, _80 In troops each other’s motions cross, Through the heath and through the moss; And, in legions intertangled, The fire-flies flit, and swarm, and throng, Till all the mountain depths are spangled. _85

Tell me, shall we go or stay? Shall we onward? Come along! Everything around is swept Forward, onward, far away! Trees and masses intercept _90 The sight, and wisps on every side Are puffed up and multiplied.

NOTES: _48 frowning]fawning 1822. _70 brake 1824; lake 1822.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Now vigorously seize my skirt, and gain This pinnacle of isolated crag. One may observe with wonder from this point, _95 How Mammon glows among the mountains.

FAUST: Ay— And strangely through the solid depth below A melancholy light, like the red dawn, Shoots from the lowest gorge of the abyss Of mountains, lightning hitherward: there rise _100 Pillars of smoke, here clouds float gently by; Here the light burns soft as the enkindled air, Or the illumined dust of golden flowers; And now it glides like tender colours spreading; And now bursts forth in fountains from the earth; _105 And now it winds, one torrent of broad light, Through the far valley with a hundred veins; And now once more within that narrow corner Masses itself into intensest splendour. And near us, see, sparks spring out of the ground, _110 Like golden sand scattered upon the darkness; The pinnacles of that black wall of mountains That hems us in are kindled.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Rare: in faith! Does not Sir Mammon gloriously illuminate His palace for this festival?—it is _115 A pleasure which you had not known before. I spy the boisterous guests already.

FAUST: How The children of the wind rage in the air! With what fierce strokes they fall upon my neck!

NOTE: _117 How 1824; Now 1822.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Cling tightly to the old ribs of the crag. _120 Beware! for if with them thou warrest In their fierce flight towards the wilderness, Their breath will sweep thee into dust, and drag Thy body to a grave in the abyss. A cloud thickens the night. _125 Hark! how the tempest crashes through the forest! The owls fly out in strange affright; The columns of the evergreen palaces Are split and shattered; The roots creak, and stretch, and groan; _130 And ruinously overthrown, The trunks are crushed and shattered By the fierce blast’s unconquerable stress. Over each other crack and crash they all In terrible and intertangled fall; _135 And through the ruins of the shaken mountain The airs hiss and howl— It is not the voice of the fountain, Nor the wolf in his midnight prowl. Dost thou not hear? _140 Strange accents are ringing Aloft, afar, anear? The witches are singing! The torrent of a raging wizard song Streams the whole mountain along. _145

NOTE: _132 shattered]scattered Rossetti.

CHORUS OF WITCHES: The stubble is yellow, the corn is green, Now to the Brocken the witches go; The mighty multitude here may be seen Gathering, wizard and witch, below. Sir Urian is sitting aloft in the air; _150 Hey over stock! and hey over stone! ’Twixt witches and incubi, what shall be done? Tell it who dare! tell it who dare!

NOTE: _150 Urian]Urean editions 1824, 1839.

A VOICE: Upon a sow-swine, whose farrows were nine, Old Baubo rideth alone. _155

CHORUS: Honour her, to whom honour is due, Old mother Baubo, honour to you! An able sow, with old Baubo upon her, Is worthy of glory, and worthy of honour! The legion of witches is coming behind, _160 Darkening the night, and outspeeding the wind—

A VOICE: Which way comest thou?

A VOICE: Over Ilsenstein; The owl was awake in the white moonshine; I saw her at rest in her downy nest, And she stared at me with her broad, bright eyne. _165

NOTE: _165 eyne 1839, 2nd edition; eye 1822, 1824, 1839, 1st edition.

VOICES: And you may now as well take your course on to Hell, Since you ride by so fast on the headlong blast.

A VOICE: She dropped poison upon me as I passed. Here are the wounds—

CHORUS OF WITCHES: Come away! come along! The way is wide, the way is long, _170 But what is that for a Bedlam throng? Stick with the prong, and scratch with the broom. The child in the cradle lies strangled at home, And the mother is clapping her hands.—

SEMICHORUS OF WIZARDS 1: We glide in Like snails when the women are all away; _175 And from a house once given over to sin Woman has a thousand steps to stray.

SEMICHORUS 2: A thousand steps must a woman take, Where a man but a single spring will make.

VOICES ABOVE: Come with us, come with us, from Felsensee. _180

NOTE: _180 Felsensee 1862 (“Relics of Shelley”, page 96); Felumee 1822; Felunsee editions 1824, 1839.

VOICES BELOW: With what joy would we fly through the upper sky! We are washed, we are ‘nointed, stark naked are we; But our toil and our pain are forever in vain.

NOTE: _183 are editions 1839; is 1822, 1824.

BOTH CHORUSES: The wind is still, the stars are fled, _185 The melancholy moon is dead; The magic notes, like spark on spark, Drizzle, whistling through the dark. Come away!

VOICES BELOW: Stay, Oh, stay!

VOICES ABOVE: Out of the crannies of the rocks _190 Who calls?

VOICES BELOW: Oh, let me join your flocks! I, three hundred years have striven To catch your skirt and mount to Heaven,— And still in vain. Oh, might I be With company akin to me! _195

BOTH CHORUSES: Some on a ram and some on a prong, On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along; Forlorn is the wight who can rise not to-night.

A HALF-WITCH BELOW: I have been tripping this many an hour: Are the others already so far before? _200 No quiet at home, and no peace abroad! And less methinks is found by the road.

CHORUS OF WITCHES: Come onward, away! aroint thee, aroint! A witch to be strong must anoint—anoint— Then every trough will be boat enough; _205 With a rag for a sail we can sweep through the sky, Who flies not to-night, when means he to fly?

BOTH CHORUSES: We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground; Witch-legions thicken around and around; Wizard-swarms cover the heath all over. _210

[THEY DESCEND.]

MEPHISTOPHELES: What thronging, dashing, raging, rustling; What whispering, babbling, hissing, bustling; What glimmering, spurting, stinking, burning, As Heaven and Earth were overturning. There is a true witch element about us; _215 Take hold on me, or we shall be divided:— Where are you?

NOTE: _217 What! wanting, 1822.

FAUST [FROM A DISTANCE]: Here!

MEPHISTOPHELES: What! I must exert my authority in the house. Place for young Voland! pray make way, good people. Take hold on me, doctor, and with one step _220 Let us escape from this unpleasant crowd: They are too mad for people of my sort. Just there shines a peculiar kind of light— Something attracts me in those bushes. Come This way: we shall slip down there in a minute. _225

FAUST: Spirit of Contradiction! Well, lead on— ’Twere a wise feat indeed to wander out Into the Brocken upon May-day night, And then to isolate oneself in scorn, Disgusted with the humours of the time. _230

MEPHISTOPHELES: See yonder, round a many-coloured flame A merry club is huddled altogether: Even with such little people as sit there One would not be alone.

FAUST: Would that I were Up yonder in the glow and whirling smoke, _235 Where the blind million rush impetuously To meet the evil ones; there might I solve Many a riddle that torments me.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Yet Many a riddle there is tied anew Inextricably. Let the great world rage! _240 We will stay here safe in the quiet dwellings. ’Tis an old custom. Men have ever built Their own small world in the great world of all. I see young witches naked there, and old ones Wisely attired with greater decency. _245 Be guided now by me, and you shall buy A pound of pleasure with a dram of trouble. I hear them tune their instruments—one must Get used to this damned scraping. Come, I’ll lead you Among them; and what there you do and see, _250 As a fresh compact ’twixt us two shall be. How say you now? this space is wide enough— Look forth, you cannot see the end of it— An hundred bonfires burn in rows, and they Who throng around them seem innumerable: _255 Dancing and drinking, jabbering, making love, And cooking, are at work. Now tell me, friend, What is there better in the world than this?

NOTE: _254 An 1824; A editions 1839.

FAUST: In introducing us, do you assume The character of Wizard or of Devil? _260

MEPHISTOPHELES: In truth, I generally go about In strict incognito; and yet one likes To wear one’s orders upon gala days. I have no ribbon at my knee; but here At home, the cloven foot is honourable. _265 See you that snail there?—she comes creeping up, And with her feeling eyes hath smelt out something. I could not, if I would, mask myself here. Come now, we’ll go about from fire to fire: I’ll be the Pimp, and you shall be the Lover. _270 [TO SOME OLD WOMEN, WHO ARE SITTING ROUND A HEAP OF GLIMMERING COALS.] Old gentlewomen, what do you do out here? You ought to be with the young rioters Right in the thickest of the revelry— But every one is best content at home.

NOTE: _264 my wanting, 1822.

General. Who dare confide in right or a just claim? _275 So much as I had done for them! and now— With women and the people ’tis the same, Youth will stand foremost ever,—age may go To the dark grave unhonoured.

NOTE: _275 right editions 1824, 1839; night 1822.

MINISTER: Nowadays People assert their rights: they go too far; _280 But as for me, the good old times I praise; Then we were all in all—’twas something worth One’s while to be in place and wear a star; That was indeed the golden age on earth.

PARVENU: We too are active, and we did and do _285 What we ought not, perhaps; and yet we now Will seize, whilst all things are whirled round and round, A spoke of Fortune’s wheel, and keep our ground.

NOTE: _285 Parvenu: (Note) A sort of fundholder 1822, editions 1824, 1839.

AUTHOR: Who now can taste a treatise of deep sense And ponderous volume? ’tis impertinence _290 To write what none will read, therefore will I To please the young and thoughtless people try.

NOTE: _290 ponderous 1824; wonderous 1822.

MEPHISTOPHELES [WHO AT ONCE APPEARS TO HAVE GROWN VERY OLD]: I find the people ripe for the last day, Since I last came up to the wizard mountain; And as my little cask runs turbid now, _295 So is the world drained to the dregs.

PEDLAR-WITCH: Look here, Gentlemen; do not hurry on so fast; And lose the chance of a good pennyworth. I have a pack full of the choicest wares Of every sort, and yet in all my bundle _300 Is nothing like what may be found on earth; Nothing that in a moment will make rich Men and the world with fine malicious mischief— There is no dagger drunk with blood; no bowl From which consuming poison may be drained _305 By innocent and healthy lips; no jewel, The price of an abandoned maiden’s shame; No sword which cuts the bond it cannot loose, Or stabs the wearer’s enemy in the back; No—

MEPHISTOPHELES: Gossip, you know little of these times. _310 What has been, has been; what is done, is past, They shape themselves into the innovations They breed, and innovation drags us with it. The torrent of the crowd sweeps over us: You think to impel, and are yourself impelled. _315

FAUST: What is that yonder?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Mark her well. It is Lilith.

FAUST: Who?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Lilith, the first wife of Adam. Beware of her fair hair, for she excels All women in the magic of her locks; And when she winds them round a young man’s neck, _320 She will not ever set him free again.

FAUST: There sit a girl and an old woman—they Seem to be tired with pleasure and with play.

MEPHISTOPHELES: There is no rest to-night for any one: When one dance ends another is begun; _325 Come, let us to it. We shall have rare fun.

[FAUST DANCES AND SINGS WITH A GIRL, AND MEPHISTOPHELES WITH AN OLD WOMAN.]

FAUST: I had once a lovely dream In which I saw an apple-tree, Where two fair apples with their gleam To climb and taste attracted me. _330

NOTES: _327-_334 So Boscombe manuscript (“Westminster Review”, July, 1870); wanting, 1822, 1824, 1839.

THE GIRL: She with apples you desired From Paradise came long ago: With you I feel that if required, Such still within my garden grow.

...

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: What is this cursed multitude about? _335 Have we not long since proved to demonstration That ghosts move not on ordinary feet? But these are dancing just like men and women.

NOTE: _335 Procto-Phantasmist]Brocto-Phantasmist editions 1824, 1839.

THE GIRL: What does he want then at our ball?

FAUST: Oh! he Is far above us all in his conceit: _340 Whilst we enjoy, he reasons of enjoyment; And any step which in our dance we tread, If it be left out of his reckoning, Is not to be considered as a step. There are few things that scandalize him not: _345 And when you whirl round in the circle now, As he went round the wheel in his old mill, He says that you go wrong in all respects, Especially if you congratulate him Upon the strength of the resemblance.

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: Fly! _350 Vanish! Unheard-of impudence! What, still there! In this enlightened age too, since you have been Proved not to exist!—But this infernal brood Will hear no reason and endure no rule. Are we so wise, and is the POND still haunted? _355 How long have I been sweeping out this rubbish Of superstition, and the world will not Come clean with all my pains!—it is a case Unheard of!

NOTE: _355 pond wanting in Boscombe manuscript.

THE GIRL: Then leave off teasing us so.

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: I tell you, spirits, to your faces now, _360 That I should not regret this despotism Of spirits, but that mine can wield it not. To-night I shall make poor work of it, Yet I will take a round with you, and hope Before my last step in the living dance _365 To beat the poet and the devil together.

MEPHISTOPHELES: At last he will sit down in some foul puddle; That is his way of solacing himself; Until some leech, diverted with his gravity, Cures him of spirits and the spirit together. _370 [TO FAUST, WHO HAS SECEDED FROM THE DANCE.] Why do you let that fair girl pass from you, Who sung so sweetly to you in the dance?

FAUST: A red mouse in the middle of her singing Sprung from her mouth.

MEPHISTOPHELES: That was all right, my friend: Be it enough that the mouse was not gray. _375 Do not disturb your hour of happiness With close consideration of such trifles.

FAUST: Then saw I—

MEPHISTOPHELES: What?

FAUST: Seest thou not a pale, Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away? She drags herself now forward with slow steps, _380 And seems as if she moved with shackled feet: I cannot overcome the thought that she Is like poor Margaret.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Let it be—pass on— No good can come of it—it is not well To meet it—it is an enchanted phantom, _385 A lifeless idol; with its numbing look, It freezes up the blood of man; and they Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone, Like those who saw Medusa.

FAUST: Oh, too true! Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse _390 Which no beloved hand has closed, alas! That is the breast which Margaret yielded to me— Those are the lovely limbs which I enjoyed!

NOTE: _392 breast editions 1839; heart 1822, 1824.

MEPHISTOPHELES: It is all magic, poor deluded fool! She looks to every one like his first love. _395

FAUST: Oh, what delight! what woe! I cannot turn My looks from her sweet piteous countenance. How strangely does a single blood-red line, Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife, Adorn her lovely neck!

MEPHISTOPHELES: Ay, she can carry _400 Her head under her arm upon occasion; Perseus has cut it off for her. These pleasures End in delusion.—Gain this rising ground, It is as airy here as in a... And if I am not mightily deceived, _405 I see a theatre.—What may this mean?

ATTENDANT: Quite a new piece, the last of seven, for ’tis The custom now to represent that number. ’Tis written by a Dilettante, and The actors who perform are Dilettanti; _410 Excuse me, gentlemen; but I must vanish. I am a Dilettante curtain-lifter.

***

JUVENILIA.

QUEEN MAB.

A PHILOSOPHICAL POEM, WITH NOTES.

[An edition (250 copies) of “Queen Mab” was printed at London in the summer of 1813 by Shelley himself, whose name, as author and printer, appears on the title-page (see “Bibliographical List”). Of this edition about seventy copies were privately distributed. Sections 1, 2, 8, and 9 were afterwards rehandled, and the intermediate sections here and there revised and altered; and of this new text sections 1 and 2 were published by Shelley in the “Alastor” volume of 1816, under the title, “The Daemon of the World”. The remainder lay unpublished till 1876, when sections 8 and 9 were printed by Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B., from a printed copy of “Queen Mab” with Shelley’s manuscript corrections. See “The Shelley Library”, pages 36-44, for a description of this copy, which is in Mr. Forman’s possession. Sources of the text are (1) the editio princeps of 1813; (2) text (with some omissions) in the “Poetical Works” of 1839, edited by Mrs. Shelley; (3) text (one line only wanting) in the 2nd edition of the “Poetical Works”, 1839 (same editor).

“Queen Mab” was probably written during the year 1812—it is first heard of at Lynmouth, August 18, 1812 (“Shelley Memorials”, page 39)—but the text may be assumed to include earlier material.]

ECRASEZ L’INFAME!—Correspondance de Voltaire.

Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nullius ante Trita solo; juvat integros accedere fonteis; Atque haurire: juvatque novos decerpere flores.

...

Unde prius nulli velarint tempora musae. Primum quod magnis doceo de rebus; et arctis Religionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo.—Lucret. lib. 4.

Dos pon sto, kai kosmon kineso.—Archimedes.

TO HARRIET *****.

Whose is the love that gleaming through the world, Wards off the poisonous arrow of its scorn? Whose is the warm and partial praise, Virtue’s most sweet reward?

Beneath whose looks did my reviving soul _5 Riper in truth and virtuous daring grow? Whose eyes have I gazed fondly on, And loved mankind the more?

HARRIET! on thine:—thou wert my purer mind; Thou wert the inspiration of my song; _10 Thine are these early wilding flowers, Though garlanded by me.

Then press into thy breast this pledge of love; And know, though time may change and years may roll, Each floweret gathered in my heart _15 It consecrates to thine.

QUEEN MAB.

1.

How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep! One, pale as yonder waning moon With lips of lurid blue; The other, rosy as the morn _5 When throned on ocean’s wave It blushes o’er the world: Yet both so passing wonderful!

Hath then the gloomy Power Whose reign is in the tainted sepulchres _10 Seized on her sinless soul? Must then that peerless form Which love and admiration cannot view Without a beating heart, those azure veins Which steal like streams along a field of snow, _15 That lovely outline, which is fair As breathing marble, perish? Must putrefaction’s breath Leave nothing of this heavenly sight But loathsomeness and ruin? _20 Spare nothing but a gloomy theme, On which the lightest heart might moralize? Or is it only a sweet slumber Stealing o’er sensation, Which the breath of roseate morning _25 Chaseth into darkness? Will Ianthe wake again, And give that faithful bosom joy Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch Light, life and rapture from her smile? _30

Yes! she will wake again, Although her glowing limbs are motionless, And silent those sweet lips, Once breathing eloquence, That might have soothed a tiger’s rage, _35 Or thawed the cold heart of a conqueror. Her dewy eyes are closed, And on their lids, whose texture fine Scarce hides the dark blue orbs beneath, The baby Sleep is pillowed: _40 Her golden tresses shade The bosom’s stainless pride, Curling like tendrils of the parasite Around a marble column.

Hark! whence that rushing sound? _45 ’Tis like the wondrous strain That round a lonely ruin swells, Which, wandering on the echoing shore, The enthusiast hears at evening: ’Tis softer than the west wind’s sigh; _50 ’Tis wilder than the unmeasured notes Of that strange lyre whose strings The genii of the breezes sweep: Those lines of rainbow light Are like the moonbeams when they fall _55 Through some cathedral window, but the tints Are such as may not find Comparison on earth.

Behold the chariot of the Fairy Queen! Celestial coursers paw the unyielding air; _60 Their filmy pennons at her word they furl, And stop obedient to the reins of light: These the Queen of Spells drew in, She spread a charm around the spot, And leaning graceful from the aethereal car, _65 Long did she gaze, and silently, Upon the slumbering maid.

Oh! not the visioned poet in his dreams, When silvery clouds float through the ‘wildered brain, When every sight of lovely, wild and grand _70 Astonishes, enraptures, elevates, When fancy at a glance combines The wondrous and the beautiful,— So bright, so fair, so wild a shape Hath ever yet beheld, _75 As that which reined the coursers of the air, And poured the magic of her gaze Upon the maiden’s sleep.

The broad and yellow moon Shone dimly through her form— _80 That form of faultless symmetry; The pearly and pellucid car Moved not the moonlight’s line: ’Twas not an earthly pageant: Those who had looked upon the sight, _85 Passing all human glory, Saw not the yellow moon, Saw not the mortal scene, Heard not the night-wind’s rush, Heard not an earthly sound, _90 Saw but the fairy pageant, Heard but the heavenly strains That filled the lonely dwelling.

The Fairy’s frame was slight, yon fibrous cloud, That catches but the palest tinge of even, _95 And which the straining eye can hardly seize When melting into eastern twilight’s shadow, Were scarce so thin, so slight; but the fair star That gems the glittering coronet of morn, Sheds not a light so mild, so powerful, _100 As that which, bursting from the Fairy’s form, Spread a purpureal halo round the scene, Yet with an undulating motion, Swayed to her outline gracefully.