Selected Poems and Prose

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  50Visit the soul in sleep,—that death is slumber,

  And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber

  Of those who wake and live.—I look on high;

  Has some unknown omnipotence unfurled

  The veil of life and death? or do I lie

  55In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep

  Spread far around and inaccessibly

  Its circles? For the very spirit fails,

  Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep

  That vanishes among the viewless gales!

  60Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky,

  Mont Blanc appears,—still, snowy, and serene—

  Its subject mountains their unearthly forms

  Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between

  Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps,

  65Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread

  And wind among the accumulated steeps;

  A desart peopled by the storms alone,

  Save when the eagle brings some hunter’s bone,

  And the wolf tracts her there—how hideously

  70Its shapes are heaped around! rude, bare, and high,

  Ghastly, and scarred, and riven.—Is this the scene

  Where the old Earthquake-daemon taught her young

  Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea

  Of fire, envelope once this silent snow?

  75None can reply—all seems eternal now.

  The wilderness has a mysterious tongue

  Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild,

  So solemn, so serene, that man may be

  But for such faith with nature reconciled;

  80Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal

  Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood

  By all, but which the wise, and great, and good

  Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.

  IV

  The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams,

  85Ocean, and all the living things that dwell

  Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain,

  Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane,

  The torpor of the year when feeble dreams

  Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep

  90Holds every future leaf and flower;—the bound

  With which from that detested trance they leap;

  The works and ways of man, their death and birth,

  And that of him and all that his may be;

  All things that move and breathe with toil and sound

  95Are born and die; revolve, subside and swell.

  Power dwells apart in its tranquillity

  Remote, serene, and inaccessible:

  And this, the naked countenance of earth,

  On which I gaze, even these primaeval mountains

  100Teach the adverting mind. The glaciers creep

  Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains,

  Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice,

  Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power

  Have piled: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle,

  105A city of death, distinct with many a tower

  And wall impregnable of beaming ice.

  Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin

  Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky

  Rolls its perpetual stream; vast pines are strewing

  110Its destined path, or in the mangled soil

  Branchless and shattered stand; the rocks, drawn down

  From yon remotest waste, have overthrown

  The limits of the dead and living world,

  Never to be reclaimed. The dwelling-place

  115Of insects, beasts, and birds, becomes its spoil;

  Their food and their retreat for ever gone,

  So much of life and joy is lost. The race

  Of man, flies far in dread; his work and dwelling

  Vanish, like smoke before the tempest’s stream,

  120And their place is not known. Below, vast caves

  Shine in the rushing torrents’ restless gleam,

  Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling

  Meet in the vale, and one majestic River,

  The breath and blood of distant lands, for ever

  125Rolls its loud waters to the ocean waves,

  Breathes its swift vapours to the circling air.

  V

  Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:—the power is there,

  The still and solemn power of many sights,

  And many sounds, and much of life and death.

  130In the calm darkness of the moonless nights,

  In the lone glare of day, the snows descend

  Upon that Mountain; none beholds them there,

  Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun,

  Or the star-beams dart through them:—Winds contend

  135Silently there, and heap the snow with breath

  Rapid and strong, but silently! Its home

  The voiceless lightning in these solitudes

  Keeps innocently, and like vapour broods

  Over the snow. The secret strength of things

  140Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome

  Of heaven is as a law, inhabits thee!

  And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,

  If to the human mind’s imaginings

  Silence and solitude were vacancy?

  Mont Blanc

  [Version B]

  Scene—Pont Pellisier in the vale of Servox

  In day the eternal universe of things

  Flows through the mind, & rolls its rapid waves

  Now dark, now glittering; now reflecting gloom

  Now lending splendour, where, from secret caves

  5The source of human thought its tribute brings

  Of waters, with a sound not all it’s own:

  Such as a feeble brook will oft assume

  In the wild woods among the mountains lone

  Where waterfalls around it leap forever

  10Where winds & woods contend, & a vast river

  Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves

  Thus thou Ravine of Arve, dark deep ravine,

  Thou many coloured, many voiced vale!

  Over whose rocks & pines & caverns sail

  15Fast cloud shadows & sunbeams—awful scene,

  Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down

  From the ice gulphs that gird his secret throne

  Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame

  Of lightning thro the tempest—thou dost lie

  20Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging

  Children of elder time, in whose devotion

  The charmed winds still come, & ever came

  To drink thier odours, & thier mighty swinging

  To hear, an old and solemn harmony;

  25Thine earthly rainbows stretched across the sweep

  Of the aerial waterfall, whose veil

  Robes some unsculptured image; even the sleep

  The sudden pause that does inhabit thee

  Which when the voices of the desart fail

  30And its hues wane, doth blend them all & steep

  Thier periods in its own eternity;

  Thy caverns echoing to the Arve’s commotion

  A loud lone sound no other sound can tame:

  Thou art pervaded with such ceaseless motion

  35Thou art the path of that unresting sound

  Ravine of Arve! & when I gaze on thee

  I seem as in a vision deep & strange

  To muse on my own various phantasy

  My own, my human mind . . which passively

  40Now renders & recieves fast influencings

  Holding an unforeseeing interchange

  With the clear universe of things around:

  A legion of swift thoughts, whose wandering wings

  Now float above thy darkness, & now res
t

  45Near the still cave of the witch Poesy

  Seeking among the shadows that pass by,

  Ghosts of the things that are, some form like thee,

  Some spectre, some faint image; till the breast

  From which they fled recalls them—thou art there

  50Some say that gleams of a remoter world

  Visit the soul in sleep—that death is slumber

  And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber

  Of those who wake & live. I look on high

  Has some unknown omnipotence unfurled

  55The vail of life & death? or do I lie

  In dream, & does the mightier world of sleep

  Spread far around, & inaccessibly

  Its circles?—for the very spirit fails

  Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep

  60That vanishes among the viewless gales.—

  Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky

  Mont Blanc appears, still, snowy & serene,

  Its subject mountains thier unearthly forms

  Pile round it—ice & rock—broad chasms between

  65Of frozen waves, unfathomable deeps

  Blue as the overhanging Heaven, that spread

  And wind among the accumulated steeps,

  Vast desarts, peopled by the storms alone

  Save when the eagle brings some hunter’s bone

  70And the wolf watches her—how hideously

  Its rocks are heaped around, rude bare & high

  Ghastly & scarred & riven!—is this the scene

  Where the old Earthquake demon taught her young

  Ruin? were these thier toys? or did a sea

  75Of fire envelope once this silent snow?

  None can reply—all seems eternal now.

  This wilderness has a mysterious tongue

  Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild

  So simple, so serene that man may be

  80In such a faith with Nature reconciled.

  Ye have a doctrine Mountains to repeal

  Large codes of fraud & woe—not understood

  By all, but which the wise & great & good

  Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.

  85The fields, the lakes, the forests & the streams

  Ocean, & all the living things that dwell

  Within the dædal Earth, lightning & rain,

  Earthquake & lava flood & hurricane—

  The torpor of the year, when feeble dreams

  90Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep

  Holds every future leaf & flower—the bound

  With which from that detested trance they leap;

  The works & ways of man, thier death & birth

  And that of him, & all that his may be,

  95All things that move & breathe with toil & sound

  Are born & die, revolve subside & swell—

  Power dwells apart in deep tranquillity,

  Remote, sublime, & inaccessible,

  And this, the naked countenance of Earth

  100On which I gaze—even these primæval mountains

  Teach the adverting mind.—the Glaciers creep

  Like snakes that watch thier prey, from thier far fountains

  Slow rolling on:—there, many a precipice

  Frost & the Sun in scorn of human power

  105Have piled: dome, pyramid & pinnacle

  A city of death, distinct with many a tower

  And wall impregnable of shining ice … .

  A city’s phantom … but a flood of ruin

  Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky

  110Rolls its eternal stream . . vast pines are strewing

  Its destined path, or in the mangled soil

  Branchless & shattered stand—the rocks drawn down

  From yon remotest waste have overthrown

  The limits of the dead & living world

  115Never to be reclaimed—the dwelling place

  Of insects beasts & birds becomes its spoil,

  Thier food & thier retreat for ever gone

  So much of life & joy is lost—the race

  Of man flies far in dread. his work & dwelling

  120Vanish like smoke before the tempests stream

  And thier place is not known:—below, vast caves

  Shine in the gushing torrents’ restless gleam

  Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling

  Meet in the vale—& one majestic river

  125The breath & blood of distant lands, forever

  Rolls its loud waters to the Ocean waves

  Breathes its swift vapours to the circling air.

  Mont Blanc yet gleams on high—the Power is there

  The still & solemn Power of many sights

  130And many sounds, & much of life & death.

  In the calm darkness of the moonless nights

  Or the lone light of day the snows descend

  Upon that mountain—none beholds them there—

  Nor when the sunset wraps thier flakes in fire

  135Or the starbeams dart thro them—winds contend

  Silently there, & heap the snows, with breath

  Blasting & swift—but silently—its home

  The voiceless lightning in these solitudes

  Keeps innocently, & like vapour broods

  140Over the snow. the secret strength of things

  Which governs thought, & to the infinite dome

  Of Heaven is as a collumn, rests on thee,

  And what were thou & Earth & Stars & Sea

  If to the human minds imaginings

  145Silence and solitude were Vacancy

  Dedication before

  LAON AND CYTHNA

  THERE IS NO DANGER TO A MAN, THAT KNOWS WHAT LIFE AND DEATH IS: THERE’S NOT ANY LAW EXCEEDS HIS KNOWLEDGE; NEITHER IS IT LAWFUL THAT HE SHOULD STOOP TO ANY OTHER LAW.

  CHAPMAN.

  TO MARY ——— ——–

  1

  So now my summer-task is ended, Mary,

  And I return to thee, mine own heart’s home;

  As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faëry,

  Earning bright spoils for her inchanted dome;

  5Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame become

  A star among the stars of mortal night,

  If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom,

  Its doubtful promise thus I would unite

  With thy beloved name, thou Child of love and light.

  2

  10The toil which stole from thee so many an hour,

  Is ended,—and the fruit is at thy feet!

  No longer where the woods to frame a bower

  With interlaced branches mix and meet,

  Or where with sound like many voices sweet,

  15Water-falls leap among wild islands green,

  Which framed for my lone boat a lone retreat

  Of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen:

  But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been.

  3

  Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear Friend, when first

  20The clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass.

  I do remember well the hour which burst

  My spirit’s sleep: a fresh May-dawn it was,

  When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,

  And wept, I knew not why; until there rose

  25From the near school-room, voices, that, alas!

  Were but one echo from a world of woes—

  The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.

  4

  And then I clasped my hands and looked around—

  But none was near to mock my streaming eyes,

  30Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground—

  So without shame, I spake:—‘I will be wise,

  And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies

  Such power, for I grow weary to behold

  The selfish and the strong still tyrannise


  35Without reproach or check.’ I then controuled

  My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold.

  5

  And from that hour did I with earnest thought

  Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore,

  Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught

  40I cared to learn, but from that secret store

  Wrought linked armour for my soul, before

  It might walk forth to war among mankind;

  Thus power and hope were strengthened more and more

  Within me, till there came upon my mind

  45A sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined.

  6

  Alas, that love should be a blight and snare

  To those who seek all sympathies in one!—

  Such once I sought in vain; then black despair,

  The shadow of a starless night, was thrown

  50Over the world in which I moved alone:—

  Yet never found I one not false to me,

  Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone

  Which crushed and withered mine, that could not be

  Aught but a lifeless clog, until revived by thee.

  7

  55Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart

  Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain;

  How beautiful and calm and free thou wert

  In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain

  Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,

  60And walked as free as light the clouds among,

  Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain

  From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung

  To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long.

  8

  No more alone through the world’s wilderness,

  65Although I trod the paths of high intent,

  I journeyed now: no more companionless,

  Where solitude is like despair, I went.—

  There is the wisdom of a stern content

  When Poverty can blight the just and good,

  70When Infamy dares mock the innocent,

  And cherished friends turn with the multitude

  To trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood!

  9

  Now has descended a serener hour,

  And with inconstant fortune, friends return;