Chapter IX: Conclusion (3)

A BRIDAL SONG.

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

1. The golden gates of Sleep unbar Where Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather! Night, with all thy stars look down,-- _5 Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,-- Never smiled the inconstant moon On a pair so true. Let eyes not see their own delight;-- Haste, swift Hour, and thy flight _10 Oft renew.

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

***

EPITHALAMIUM.

ANOTHER VERSION OF THE PRECEDING.

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

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

BOYS: O joy! O fear! what may be done In the absence of the sun? _10 Come along! The golden gates of sleep unbar! When strength and beauty meet together, Kindles their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather. _15 Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light, Lest eyes see their own delight! Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight Oft renew.

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

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

NOTE: _17 Lest]Let 1847.

***

ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME.

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

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

GIRLS SING: Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her! Holy stars! permit no wrong! _10 And return, to wake the sleeper, Dawn, ere it be long! O joy! O fear! there is not one Of us can guess what may be done In the absence of the sun:-- _15 Come along!

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

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

CHORUS: The golden gate of Sleep unbar, When Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image, like a star _25 In a sea of glassy weather. May the purple mist of love Round them rise, and with them move, Nourishing each tender gem Which, like flowers, will burst from them. _30 As the fruit is to the tree May their children ever be!

***

LOVE, HOPE, DESIRE, AND FEAR.

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

...

And many there were hurt by that strong boy, His name, they said, was Pleasure, And near him stood, glorious beyond measure Four Ladies who possess all empery In earth and air and sea, _5 Nothing that lives from their award is free. Their names will I declare to thee, Love, Hope, Desire, and Fear, And they the regents are Of the four elements that frame the heart, _10 And each diversely exercised her art By force or circumstance or sleight To prove her dreadful might Upon that poor domain. Desire presented her [false] glass, and then _15 The spirit dwelling there Was spellbound to embrace what seemed so fair Within that magic mirror, And dazed by that bright error, It would have scorned the [shafts] of the avenger _20 And death, and penitence, and danger, Had not then silent Fear Touched with her palsying spear, So that as if a frozen torrent The blood was curdled in its current; _25 It dared not speak, even in look or motion, But chained within itself its proud devotion. Between Desire and Fear thou wert A wretched thing, poor heart! Sad was his life who bore thee in his breast, _30 Wild bird for that weak nest. Till Love even from fierce Desire it bought, And from the very wound of tender thought Drew solace, and the pity of sweet eyes Gave strength to bear those gentle agonies, _35 Surmount the loss, the terror, and the sorrow. Then Hope approached, she who can borrow For poor to-day, from rich tomorrow, And Fear withdrew, as night when day Descends upon the orient ray, _40 And after long and vain endurance The poor heart woke to her assurance. --At one birth these four were born With the world's forgotten morn, And from Pleasure still they hold _45 All it circles, as of old. When, as summer lures the swallow, Pleasure lures the heart to follow-- O weak heart of little wit! The fair hand that wounded it, _50 Seeking, like a panting hare, Refuge in the lynx's lair, Love, Desire, Hope, and Fear, Ever will be near.

***

FRAGMENTS WRITTEN FOR HELLAS.

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

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

2. Could Arethuse to her forsaken urn From Alpheus and the bitter Doris run, Or could the morning shafts of purest light _10 Again into the quivers of the Sun Be gathered--could one thought from its wild flight Return into the temple of the brain Without a change, without a stain,-- Could aught that is, ever again _15 Be what it once has ceased to be, Greece might again be free!

3. A star has fallen upon the earth Mid the benighted nations, A quenchless atom of immortal light, _20 A living spark of Night, A cresset shaken from the constellations. Swifter than the thunder fell To the heart of Earth, the well Where its pulses flow and beat, _25 And unextinct in that cold source Burns, and on ... course Guides the sphere which is its prison, Like an angelic spirit pent In a form of mortal birth, _30 Till, as a spirit half-arisen Shatters its charnel, it has rent, In the rapture of its mirth, The thin and painted garment of the Earth, Ruining its chaos--a fierce breath _35 Consuming all its forms of living death.

***

FRAGMENT: 'I WOULD NOT BE A KING'.

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

I would not be a king--enough Of woe it is to love; The path to power is steep and rough, And tempests reign above. I would not climb the imperial throne; _5 'Tis built on ice which fortune's sun Thaws in the height of noon. Then farewell, king, yet were I one, Care would not come so soon. Would he and I were far away _10 Keeping flocks on Himalay!

***

GINEVRA.

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

Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one Who staggers forth into the air and sun From the dark chamber of a mortal fever, Bewildered, and incapable, and ever Fancying strange comments in her dizzy brain _5 Of usual shapes, till the familiar train Of objects and of persons passed like things Strange as a dreamer's mad imaginings, Ginevra from the nuptial altar went; The vows to which her lips had sworn assent _10 Rung in her brain still with a jarring din, Deafening the lost intelligence within.

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

The bride-maidens who round her thronging came, Some with a sense of self-rebuke and shame, Envying the unenviable; and others Making the joy which should have been another's _30 Their own by gentle sympathy; and some Sighing to think of an unhappy home: Some few admiring what can ever lure Maidens to leave the heaven serene and pure Of parents' smiles for life's great cheat; a thing _35 Bitter to taste, sweet in imagining.

But they are all dispersed--and, lo! she stands Looking in idle grief on her white hands, Alone within the garden now her own; _40 And through the sunny air, with jangling tone, The music of the merry marriage-bells, Killing the azure silence, sinks and swells;-- Absorbed like one within a dream who dreams That he is dreaming, until slumber seems _45 A mockery of itself--when suddenly Antonio stood before her, pale as she. With agony, with sorrow, and with pride, He lifted his wan eyes upon the bride, And said--'Is this thy faith?' and then as one _50 Whose sleeping face is stricken by the sun With light like a harsh voice, which bids him rise And look upon his day of life with eyes Which weep in vain that they can dream no more, Ginevra saw her lover, and forbore _55 To shriek or faint, and checked the stifling blood Rushing upon her heart, and unsubdued Said--'Friend, if earthly violence or ill, Suspicion, doubt, or the tyrannic will Of parents, chance or custom, time or change, _60 Or circumstance, or terror, or revenge, Or wildered looks, or words, or evil speech, With all their stings and venom can impeach Our love,--we love not:--if the grave which hides The victim from the tyrant, and divides _65 The cheek that whitens from the eyes that dart Imperious inquisition to the heart That is another's, could dissever ours, We love not.'--'What! do not the silent hours Beckon thee to Gherardi's bridal bed? _70 Is not that ring'--a pledge, he would have said, Of broken vows, but she with patient look The golden circle from her finger took, And said--'Accept this token of my faith, The pledge of vows to be absolved by death; _75 And I am dead or shall be soon--my knell Will mix its music with that merry bell, Does it not sound as if they sweetly said "We toll a corpse out of the marriage-bed"? The flowers upon my bridal chamber strewn _80 Will serve unfaded for my bier--so soon That even the dying violet will not die Before Ginevra.' The strong fantasy Had made her accents weaker and more weak, And quenched the crimson life upon her cheek, _85 And glazed her eyes, and spread an atmosphere Round her, which chilled the burning noon with fear, Making her but an image of the thought Which, like a prophet or a shadow, brought News of the terrors of the coming time. _90 Like an accuser branded with the crime He would have cast on a beloved friend, Whose dying eyes reproach not to the end The pale betrayer--he then with vain repentance Would share, he cannot now avert, the sentence-- _95 Antonio stood and would have spoken, when The compound voice of women and of men Was heard approaching; he retired, while she Was led amid the admiring company Back to the palace,--and her maidens soon _100 Changed her attire for the afternoon, And left her at her own request to keep An hour of quiet rest:--like one asleep With open eyes and folded hands she lay, Pale in the light of the declining day. _105

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

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

...

THE DIRGE.

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

Where the sea of sunlight encroaches _200 On the limits of wintry night;-- If the land, and the air, and the sea, Rejoice not when spring approaches, We did not rejoice in thee, Ginevra! _205

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

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

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

***

EVENING: PONTE AL MARE, PISA

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

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

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

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

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

NOTES: _6 summer 1839, 2nd edition; silent 1824, 1839, 1st edition. _20 cinereous Boscombe manuscript; enormous editions 1824, 1839.

***

THE BOAT ON THE SERCHIO.

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

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

The stars burnt out in the pale blue air, And the thin white moon lay withering there; To tower, and cavern, and rift, and tree, The owl and the bat fled drowsily. _10 Day had kindled the dewy woods, And the rocks above and the stream below, And the vapours in their multitudes, And the Apennine's shroud of summer snow, And clothed with light of aery gold _15 The mists in their eastern caves uprolled.

Day had awakened all things that be, The lark and the thrush and the swallow free, And the milkmaid's song and the mower's scythe And the matin-bell and the mountain bee: _20 Fireflies were quenched on the dewy corn, Glow-worms went out on the river's brim, Like lamps which a student forgets to trim: The beetle forgot to wind his horn, The crickets were still in the meadow and hill: _25 Like a flock of rooks at a farmer's gun Night's dreams and terrors, every one, Fled from the brains which are their prey From the lamp's death to the morning ray.

All rose to do the task He set to each, _30 Who shaped us to His ends and not our own; The million rose to learn, and one to teach What none yet ever knew or can be known. And many rose Whose woe was such that fear became desire;-- _35 Melchior and Lionel were not among those; They from the throng of men had stepped aside, And made their home under the green hill-side. It was that hill, whose intervening brow Screens Lucca from the Pisan's envious eye, _40 Which the circumfluous plain waving below, Like a wide lake of green fertility, With streams and fields and marshes bare, Divides from the far Apennines--which lie Islanded in the immeasurable air. _45

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

'Never mind,' said Lionel, 'Give care to the winds, they can bear it well About yon poplar-tops; and see The white clouds are driving merrily, _55 And the stars we miss this morn will light More willingly our return to-night.-- How it whistles, Dominic's long black hair! List, my dear fellow; the breeze blows fair: Hear how it sings into the air--' _60

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

...

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

...

'Ay, heave the ballast overboard, And stow the eatables in the aft locker.' 'Would not this keg be best a little lowered?' _75 'No, now all's right.' 'Those bottles of warm tea-- (Give me some straw)--must be stowed tenderly; Such as we used, in summer after six, To cram in greatcoat pockets, and to mix Hard eggs and radishes and rolls at Eton, _80 And, couched on stolen hay in those green harbours Farmers called gaps, and we schoolboys called arbours, Would feast till eight.'

...

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

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

The Serchio, twisting forth _105 Between the marble barriers which it clove At Ripafratta, leads through the dread chasm The wave that died the death which lovers love, Living in what it sought; as if this spasm Had not yet passed, the toppling mountains cling, _110 But the clear stream in full enthusiasm Pours itself on the plain, then wandering Down one clear path of effluence crystalline Sends its superfluous waves, that they may fling At Arno's feet tribute of corn and wine; Then, through the pestilential deserts wild Of tangled marsh and woods of stunted pine, It rushes to the Ocean.

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

***

MUSIC.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

SONNET TO BYRON.

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

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

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

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

***

FRAGMENT ON KEATS.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

***

TO-MORROW.

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

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

***

STANZA.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: A WANDERER.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: LIFE ROUNDED WITH SLEEP.

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

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

***

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

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: THE LADY OF THE SOUTH.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: ZEPHYRUS THE AWAKENER.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: RAIN.

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

The gentleness of rain was in the wind.

***

FRAGMENT: 'WHEN SOFT WINDS AND SUNNY SKIES'.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: 'THE RUDE WIND IS SINGING'.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: 'GREAT SPIRIT'.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: 'O THOU IMMORTAL DEITY'.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: THE FALSE LAUREL AND THE TRUE.

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

'What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest The wreath to mighty poets only due, Even whilst like a forgotten moon thou wanest? Touch not those leaves which for the eternal few Who wander o'er the Paradise of fame, _5 In sacred dedication ever grew: One of the crowd thou art without a name.' 'Ah, friend, 'tis the false laurel that I wear; Bright though it seem, it is not the same As that which bound Milton's immortal hair; _10 Its dew is poison; and the hopes that quicken Under its chilling shade, though seeming fair, Are flowers which die almost before they sicken.'

***

FRAGMENT: MAY THE LIMNER.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: BEAUTY'S HALO.

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

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

***

FRAGMENT: 'THE DEATH KNELL IS RINGING'.

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

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

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

***

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

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

***

NOTE ON POEMS OF 1821, BY MRS. SHELLEY.

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

'peep and botanize
Upon his mother's grave,'

does not appear to me more inexplicably framed than that of one who can dissect and probe past woes, and repeat to the public ear the groans drawn from them in the throes of their agony.

The year 1821 was spent in Pisa, or at the Baths of San Giuliano. We were not, as our wont had been, alone; friends had gathered round us. Nearly all are dead, and, when Memory recurs to the past, she wanders among tombs. The genius, with all his blighting errors and mighty powers; the companion of Shelley's ocean-wanderings, and the sharer of his fate, than whom no man ever existed more gentle, generous, and fearless; and others, who found in Shelley's society, and in his great knowledge and warm sympathy, delight, instruction, and solace; have joined him beyond the grave. A few survive who have felt life a desert since he left it. What misfortune can equal death? Change can convert every other into a blessing, or heal its sting--death alone has no cure. It shakes the foundations of the earth on which we tread; it destroys its beauty; it casts down our shelter; it exposes us bare to desolation. When those we love have passed into eternity, 'life is the desert and the solitude' in which we are forced to linger--but never find comfort more.

There is much in the "Adonais" which seems now more applicable to Shelley himself than to the young and gifted poet whom he mourned. The poetic view he takes of death, and the lofty scorn he displays towards his calumniators, are as a prophecy on his own destiny when received among immortal names, and the poisonous breath of critics has vanished into emptiness before the fame he inherits.

Shelley's favourite taste was boating; when living near the Thames or by the Lake of Geneva, much of his life was spent on the water. On the shore of every lake or stream or sea near which he dwelt, he had a boat moored. He had latterly enjoyed this pleasure again. There are no pleasure-boats on the Arno; and the shallowness of its waters (except in winter-time, when the stream is too turbid and impetuous for boating) rendered it difficult to get any skiff light enough to float. Shelley, however, overcame the difficulty; he, together with a friend, contrived a boat such as the huntsmen carry about with them in the Maremma, to cross the sluggish but deep streams that intersect the forests,--a boat of laths and pitched canvas. It held three persons; and he was often seen on the Arno in it, to the horror of the Italians, who remonstrated on the danger, and could not understand how anyone could take pleasure in an exercise that risked life. 'Ma va per la vita!' they exclaimed. I little thought how true their words would prove. He once ventured, with a friend, on the glassy sea of a calm day, down the Arno and round the coast to Leghorn, which, by keeping close in shore, was very practicable. They returned to Pisa by the canal, when, missing the direct cut, they got entangled among weeds, and the boat upset; a wetting was all the harm done, except that the intense cold of his drenched clothes made Shelley faint. Once I went down with him to the mouth of the Arno, where the stream, then high and swift, met the tideless sea, and disturbed its sluggish waters. It was a waste and dreary scene; the desert sand stretched into a point surrounded by waves that broke idly though perpetually around; it was a scene very similar to Lido, of which he had said--

'I love all waste
And solitary places; where we taste
The pleasure of believing what we see
Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be:
And such was this wide ocean, and this shore
More barren than its billows.'

Our little boat was of greater use, unaccompanied by any danger, when we removed to the Baths. Some friends lived at the village of Pugnano, four miles off, and we went to and fro to see them, in our boat, by the canal; which, fed by the Serchio, was, though an artificial, a full and picturesque stream, making its way under verdant banks, sheltered by trees that dipped their boughs into the murmuring waters. By day, multitudes of Ephemera darted to and fro on the surface; at night, the fireflies came out among the shrubs on the banks; the cicale at noon-day kept up their hum; the aziola cooed in the quiet evening. It was a pleasant summer, bright in all but Shelley's health and inconstant spirits; yet he enjoyed himself greatly, and became more and more attached to the part of the country were chance appeared to cast us. Sometimes he projected taking a farm situated on the height of one of the near hills, surrounded by chestnut and pine woods, and overlooking a wide extent of country: or settling still farther in the maritime Apennines, at Massa. Several of his slighter and unfinished poems were inspired by these scenes, and by the companions around us. It is the nature of that poetry, however, which overflows from the soul oftener to express sorrow and regret than joy; for it is when oppressed by the weight of life, and away from those he loves, that the poet has recourse to the solace of expression in verse.

Still, Shelley's passion was the ocean; and he wished that our summers, instead of being passed among the hills near Pisa, should be spent on the shores of the sea. It was very difficult to find a spot. We shrank from Naples from a fear that the heats would disagree with Percy: Leghorn had lost its only attraction, since our friends who had resided there were returned to England; and, Monte Nero being the resort of many English, we did not wish to find ourselves in the midst of a colony of chance travellers. No one then thought it possible to reside at Via Reggio, which latterly has become a summer resort. The low lands and bad air of Maremma stretch the whole length of the western shores of the Mediterranean, till broken by the rocks and hills of Spezia. It was a vague idea, but Shelley suggested an excursion to Spezia, to see whether it would be feasible to spend a summer there. The beauty of the bay enchanted him. We saw no house to suit us; but the notion took root, and many circumstances, enchained as by fatality, occurred to urge him to execute it.

He looked forward this autumn with great pleasure to the prospect of a visit from Leigh Hunt. When Shelley visited Lord Byron at Ravenna, the latter had suggested his coming out, together with the plan of a periodical work in which they should all join. Shelley saw a prospect of good for the fortunes of his friend, and pleasure in his society; and instantly exerted himself to have the plan executed. He did not intend himself joining in the work: partly from pride, not wishing to have the air of acquiring readers for his poetry by associating it with the compositions of more popular writers; and also because he might feel shackled in the free expression of his opinions, if any friends were to be compromised. By those opinions, carried even to their outermost extent, he wished to live and die, as being in his conviction not only true, but such as alone would conduce to the moral improvement and happiness of mankind. The sale of the work might meanwhile, either really or supposedly, be injured by the free expression of his thoughts; and this evil he resolved to avoid.

***

POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822.

THE ZUCCA.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824, and dated 'January, 1822.' There is a copy amongst the Boscombe manuscripts.]

1. Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring, And infant Winter laughed upon the land All cloudlessly and cold;--when I, desiring More in this world than any understand, Wept o'er the beauty, which, like sea retiring, _5 Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand Of my lorn heart, and o'er the grass and flowers Pale for the falsehood of the flattering Hours.

2. Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep The instability of all but weeping; _10 And on the Earth lulled in her winter sleep I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping. Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping From unremembered dreams, shalt ... see _15 No death divide thy immortality.

3. I loved--oh, no, I mean not one of ye, Or any earthly one, though ye are dear As human heart to human heart may be;-- I loved, I know not what--but this low sphere _20 And all that it contains, contains not thee, Thou, whom, seen nowhere, I feel everywhere. From Heaven and Earth, and all that in them are, Veiled art thou, like a ... star.

4. By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest, _25 Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden; Making divine the loftiest and the lowest, When for a moment thou art not forbidden To live within the life which thou bestowest; And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden, _30 Cold as a corpse after the spirit's flight Blank as the sun after the birth of night.

5. In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common, In music and the sweet unconscious tone Of animals, and voices which are human, _35 Meant to express some feelings of their own; In the soft motions and rare smile of woman, In flowers and leaves, and in the grass fresh-shown, Or dying in the autumn, I the most Adore thee present or lament thee lost. _40

6. And thus I went lamenting, when I saw A plant upon the river's margin lie Like one who loved beyond his nature's law, And in despair had cast him down to die; Its leaves, which had outlived the frost, the thaw _45 Had blighted; like a heart which hatred's eye Can blast not, but which pity kills; the dew Lay on its spotted leaves like tears too true.

7. The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth Had crushed it on her maternal breast _50

...

8. I bore it to my chamber, and I planted It in a vase full of the lightest mould; The winter beams which out of Heaven slanted Fell through the window-panes, disrobed of cold, Upon its leaves and flowers; the stars which panted _55 In evening for the Day, whose car has rolled Over the horizon's wave, with looks of light Smiled on it from the threshold of the night.

9. The mitigated influences of air And light revived the plant, and from it grew _60 Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair, Full as a cup with the vine's burning dew, O'erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere Of vital warmth enfolded it anew, And every impulse sent to every part The unbeheld pulsations of its heart. _65

10. Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong, Even if the air and sun had smiled not on it; For one wept o'er it all the winter long Tears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon it _70 Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song Mixed with the stringed melodies that won it To leave the gentle lips on which it slept, Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept.

11. Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers _75 On which he wept, the while the savage storm Waked by the darkest of December's hours Was raving round the chamber hushed and warm; The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers, The fish were frozen in the pools, the form _80 Of every summer plant was dead Whilst this....

...

NOTES: _7 lorn Boscombe manuscript; poor edition 1824. _23 So Boscombe manuscript; Dim object of soul's idolatry edition 1824. _24 star Boscombe manuscript; wanting edition 1824. _38 grass fresh Boscombe manuscript; fresh grass edition 1824. _46 like Boscombe manuscript; as edition 1824. _68 air and sun Boscombe manuscript; sun and air edition 1824.

***

THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT.

[Published by Medwin, "The Athenaeum", August 11, 1832. There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.]

1. 'Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain; My hand is on thy brow, My spirit on thy brain; My pity on thy heart, poor friend; And from my fingers flow _5 The powers of life, and like a sign, Seal thee from thine hour of woe; And brood on thee, but may not blend With thine.

2. 'Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not; _10 But when I think that he Who made and makes my lot As full of flowers as thine of weeds, Might have been lost like thee; And that a hand which was not mine _15 Might then have charmed his agony As I another's--my heart bleeds For thine.

3. 'Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of The dead and the unborn _20 Forget thy life and love; Forget that thou must wake forever; Forget the world's dull scorn; Forget lost health, and the divine Feelings which died in youth's brief morn; _25 And forget me, for I can never Be thine.

4. 'Like a cloud big with a May shower, My soul weeps healing rain On thee, thou withered flower! _30 It breathes mute music on thy sleep Its odour calms thy brain! Its light within thy gloomy breast Spreads like a second youth again. By mine thy being is to its deep _35 Possessed.

5. 'The spell is done. How feel you now?' 'Better--Quite well,' replied The sleeper.--'What would do _39 You good when suffering and awake? What cure your head and side?--' 'What would cure, that would kill me, Jane: And as I must on earth abide Awhile, yet tempt me not to break My chain.' _45

NOTES; _1, _10 Sleep Trelawny manuscript, 1839, 2nd edition; Sleep on 1832, 1839, 1st edition. _16 charmed Trelawny manuscript; chased 1832, editions 1839. _21 love]woe 1832. _42 so Trelawny manuscript 'Twould kill me what would cure my pain 1832, editions 1839. _44 Awhile yet, cj. A.C. Bradley.

***

LINES: 'WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED'.

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

1. When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead-- When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, _5 Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot.

2. As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, _10 The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute:-- No song but sad dirges, Like the wind through a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges _15 That ring the dead seaman's knell.

3. When hearts have once mingled Love first leaves the well-built nest; The weak one is singled To endure what it once possessed. _20 O Love! who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home, and your bier?

4. Its passions will rock thee _25 As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home _30 Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come.

NOTES: _6 tones edition 1824; notes Trelawny manuscript. _14 through edition 1824; in Trelawny manuscript. _16 dead edition 1824; lost Trelawny manuscript. _23 choose edition 1824; chose Trelawny manuscript. _25-_32 wanting Trelawny manuscript.

***

TO JANE: THE INVITATION.

[This and the following poem were published together in their original form as one piece under the title, "The Pine Forest of the Cascine near Pisa", by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; reprinted in the same shape, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition; republished separately in their present form, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition. There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.]

Best and brightest, come away! Fairer far than this fair Day, Which, like thee to those in sorrow, Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow To the rough Year just awake _5 In its cradle on the brake. The brightest hour of unborn Spring, Through the winter wandering, Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn To hoar February born, _10 Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, It kissed the forehead of the Earth, And smiled upon the silent sea, And bade the frozen streams be free, And waked to music all their fountains, _15 And breathed upon the frozen mountains, And like a prophetess of May Strewed flowers upon the barren way, Making the wintry world appear Like one on whom thou smilest, dear. _20

Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs-- To the silent wilderness Where the soul need not repress Its music lest it should not find _25 An echo in another's mind, While the touch of Nature's art Harmonizes heart to heart. I leave this notice on my door For each accustomed visitor:-- _30 'I am gone into the fields To take what this sweet hour yields;-- Reflection, you may come to-morrow, Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.-- You with the unpaid bill, Despair,-- You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care,-- _35 I will pay you in the grave,-- Death will listen to your stave. Expectation too, be off! To-day is for itself enough; _40 Hope, in pity mock not Woe With smiles, nor follow where I go; Long having lived on thy sweet food, At length I find one moment's good After long pain--with all your love, _45 This you never told me of.'

Radiant Sister of the Day, Awake! arise! and come away! To the wild woods and the plains, And the pools where winter rains _50. Image all their roof of leaves, Where the pine its garland weaves Of sapless green and ivy dun Round stems that never kiss the sun; Where the lawns and pastures be, _55 And the sandhills of the sea;-- Where the melting hoar-frost wets The daisy-star that never sets, And wind-flowers, and violets, Which yet join not scent to hue, _60 Crown the pale year weak and new; When the night is left behind In the deep east, dun and blind, And the blue noon is over us, And the multitudinous _65 Billows murmur at our feet, Where the earth and ocean meet, And all things seem only one In the universal sun.

NOTES: _34 with Trelawny manuscript; of 1839, 2nd edition. _44 moment's Trelawny manuscript; moment 1839, 2nd edition. _50 And Trelawny manuscript; To 1839, 2nd edition. _53 dun Trelawny manuscript; dim 1839, 2nd edition.

***

TO JANE: THE RECOLLECTION.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition. See the Editor's prefatory note to the preceding.]