The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley: (A Modern Library E-Book)

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  ‘Whither the conqueror hurries me, still less;—

  305

  But follow thou, and from spectator turn

  Actor or victim in this wretchedness,

  ‘And what thou wouldst be taught I then may learn

  From thee. Now listen:—In the April prime,

  When all the forest-tips began to burn

  310

  ‘With kindling green, touched by the azure clime

  Of the young season, I was laid asleep

  Under a mountain, which from unknown time

  ‘Had yawned into a cavern, high and deep;

  And from it came a gentle rivulet,

  315

  Whose water, like clear air, in its calm sweep

  ‘Bent the soft grass, and kept for ever wet

  The stems of the sweet flowers, and filled the grove

  With sounds, which whoso hears must needs forget

  ‘All pleasure and all pain, all hate and love,

  320

  Which they had known before that hour of rest;

  A sleeping mother then would dream not of

  ‘Her only child who died upon the breast

  At eventide—a king would mourn no more

  The crown of which his brows were dispossessed

  325

  ‘When the sun lingered o’er his ocean floor

  To gild his rival’s new prosperity.

  Thou wouldst forget thus vainly to deplore

  ‘Ills, which if ills can find no cure from thee,

  The thought of which no other sleep will quell,

  330

  Nor other music blot from memory,

  ‘So sweet and deep is the oblivious spell;

  And whether life had been before that sleep

  The Heaven which I imagine, or a Hell

  ‘Like this harsh world in which I wake to weep,

  335

  I know not. I arose, and for a space

  The scene of woods and waters seemed to keep,

  ‘Though it was now broad day, a gentle trace

  Of light diviner than the common sun

  Sheds on the common earth, and all the place

  340

  ‘Was filled with magic sounds woven into one

  Oblivious melody, confusing sense

  Amid the gliding waves and shadows dun;

  ‘And, as I looked, the bright omnipresence

  Of morning through the orient cavern flowed,

  345

  And the sun’s image radiantly intense

  ‘Burned on the waters of the well that glowed

  Like gold, and threaded all the forest’s maze

  With winding paths of emerald fire; there stood

  ‘Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze

  350

  Of his own glory, on the vibrating

  Floor of the fountain, paved with flashing rays,

  ‘A Shape all light, which with one hand did fling

  Dew on the earth, as if she were the dawn,

  And the invisible rain did ever sing

  355

  ‘A silver music on the mossy lawn;

  And still before me on the dusky grass,

  Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn:

  ‘In her right hand she bore a crystal glass,

  Mantling with bright Nepenthe; the fierce splendour

  360

  Fell from her as she moved under the mass

  ‘Of the deep cavern, and with palms so tender,

  Their tread broke not the mirror of its billow,

  Glided along the river, and did bend her

  ‘Head under the dark boughs, till like a willow

  365

  Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream

  That whispered with delight to be its pillow.

  ‘As one enamoured is upborne in dream

  O’er lily-paven lakes, mid silver mist,

  To wondrous music, so this shape might seem

  370

  ‘Partly to tread the waves with feet which kissed

  The dancing foam; partly to glide along

  The air which roughened the moist amethyst,

  ‘Or the faint morning beams that fell among

  The trees or the soft shadows of the trees;

  375

  And her feet, ever to the ceaseless song

  ‘Of leaves, and winds, and waves, and birds, and bees,

  And falling drops, moved in a measure new

  Yet sweet, as on the summer evening breeze,

  ‘Up from the lake a shape of golden dew

  380

  Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon,

  Dances i’ the wind, where never eagle flew;

  ‘And still her feet, no less than the sweet tune

  To which they moved, seemed as they moved to blot

  The thoughts of him who gazed on them; and soon

  385

  ‘All that was, seemed as if it had been not;

  And all the gazer’s mind was strewn beneath

  Her feet like embers; and she, thought by thought,

  ‘Trampled its sparks into the dust of death;

  As day upon the threshold of the east

  390

  Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath

  ‘Of darkness re-illumine even the least

  Of heaven’s living eyes—like day she came,

  Making the night a dream; and ere she ceased

  ‘To move, as one between desire and shame

  395

  Suspended, I said—If, as it doth seem,

  Thou comest from the realm without a name

  ‘Into this valley of perpetual dream,

  Show whence I came, and where I am, and why—

  Pass not away upon the passing stream.

  400

  ‘Arise and quench thy thirst, was her reply.

  And as a shut lily stricken by the wand

  Of dewy morning’s vital alchemy,

  ‘I rose; and, bending at her sweet command,

  Touched with faint lips the cup she raised,

  405

  And suddenly my brain became as sand

  ‘Where the first wave had more than half erased

  The track of deer on desert Labrador;

  Whilst the wolf, from which they fled amazed,

  ‘Leaves his stamp visibly upon the shore,

  410

  Until the second bursts;—so on my sight

  Burst a new vision, never seen before,

  ‘And the fair shape waned in the coming light,

  As veil by veil the silent splendour drops

  From Lucifer, amid the chrysolite

  415

  ‘Of sunrise, ere it tinge the mountain-tops;

  And as the presence of that fairest planet,

  Although unseen, is felt by one who hopes

  ‘That his day’s path may end as he began it,

  In that star’s smile, whose light is like the scent

  420

  Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it,

  ‘Or the soft note in which his dear lament

  The Brescian1 shepherd breathes, or the caress

  That turned his weary slumber to content;

  ‘So knew I in that light’s severe excess

  425

  The presence of that Shape which on the stream

  Moved, as I moved along the wilderness,

  ‘More dimly than a day-appearing dream,

  The ghost of a forgotten form of sleep;

  A light of heaven, whose half-extinguished beam

  430

  ‘Through the sick day in which we wake to weep

  Glimmers, for ever sought, for ever lost;

  So did that shape its obscure tenour keep

  ‘Beside my path, as silent as a ghost;

  But the new Vision, and the cold bright car,

  435

  With solemn speed and stunning music, crossed

  ‘The forest, and
as if from some dread war

  Triumphantly returning, the loud million

  Fiercely extolled the fortune of her star.

  ‘A moving arch of victory, the vermilion

  440

  And green and azure plumes of Iris had

  Built high over her wind-wingèd pavilion,

  ‘And underneath aethereal glory clad

  The wilderness, and far before her flew

  The tempest of the splendour, which forbade

  445

  ‘Shadow to fall from leaf and stone; the crew

  Seemed in that light, like atomies to dance

  Within a sunbeam;—some upon the new

  ‘Embroidery of flowers, that did enhance

  The grassy vesture of the desert, played,

  450

  Forgetful of the chariot’s swift advance;

  ‘Others stood gazing, till within the shade

  Of the great mountain its light left them dim;

  Others outspeeded it; and others made

  ‘Circles around it, like the clouds that swim

  455

  Round the high moon in a bright sea of air;

  And more did follow, with exulting hymn,

  ‘The chariot and the captives fettered there:—

  But all like bubbles on an eddying flood

  Fell into the same track at last, and were

  460

  ‘Borne onward.—I among the multitude

  Was swept—me, sweetest flowers delayed not long;

  Me, not the shadow nor the solitude;

  ‘Me, not that falling stream’s Lethean song;

  Me, not the phantom of that early Form

  465

  Which moved upon its motion—but among

  ‘The thickest billows of that living storm

  I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime

  Of that cold light, whose airs too soon deform.

  ‘Before the chariot had begun to climb

  470

  The opposing steep of that mysterious dell,

  Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme

  ‘Of him who from the lowest depths of hell,

  Through every paradise and through all glory,

  Love led serene, and who returned to tell

  475

  ‘The words of hate and awe; the wondrous story

  How all things are transfigured except Love;

  For deaf as is a sea, which wrath makes hoary,

  ‘The world can hear not the sweet notes that move

  The sphere whose light is melody to lovers—

  480

  A wonder worthy of his rhyme.—The grove

  ‘Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers,

  The earth was gray with phantoms, and the air

  Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers

  ‘A flock of vampire-bats before the glare

  485

  Of the tropic sun, bringing, ere evening,

  Strange night upon some Indian isle;—thus were

  ‘Phantoms diffused around; and some did fling

  Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves,

  Behind them; some like eaglets on the wing

  490

  ‘Were lost in the white day; others like elves

  Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes

  Upon the sunny streams and grassy shelves;

  ‘And others sate chattering like restless apes

  On vulgar hands, …

  495

  Some made a cradle of the ermined capes

  ‘Of kingly mantles; some across the tiar

  Of pontiffs sate like vultures; others played

  Under the crown which girt with empire

  ‘A baby’s or an idiot’s brow, and made

  500

  Their nests in it. The old anatomies

  Sate hatching their bare broods under the shade

  ‘Of daemon wings, and laughed from their dead eyes

  To reassume the delegated power,

  Arrayed in which those worms did monarchize,

  505

  ‘Who made this earth their charnel. Others more

  Humble, like falcons, sate upon the fist

  Of common men, and round their heads did soar;

  ‘Or like small gnats and flies, as thick as mist

  On evening marshes, thronged about the brow

  510

  Of lawyers, statesmen, priest and theorist;—

  ‘And others, like discoloured flakes of snow

  On fairest bosoms and the sunniest hair,

  Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow

  ‘Which they extinguished; and, like tears, they were

  515

  A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained

  In drops of sorrow. I became aware

  ‘Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained

  The track in which we moved. After brief space,

  From every form the beauty slowly waned;

  520

  ‘From every firmest limb and fairest face

  The strength and freshness fell like dust, and left

  The action and the shape without the grace

  ‘Of life. The marble brow of youth was cleft

  With care; and in those eyes where once hope shone,

  525

  Desire, like a lioness bereft

  ‘Of her last cub, glared ere it died; each one

  Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly

  These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown

  ‘In autumn evening from a poplar tree.

  530

  Each like himself and like each other were

  At first; but some distorted seemed to be

  ‘Obscure clouds, moulded by the casual air;

  And of this stuff the car’s creative ray

  Wrought all the busy phantoms that were there,

  535

  ‘As the sun shapes the clouds; thus on the way

  Mask after mask fell from the countenance

  And form of all; and long before the day

  ‘Was old, the joy which waked like heaven’s glance

  The sleepers in the oblivious valley, died;

  540

  And some grew weary of the ghastly dance,

  ‘And fell, as I have fallen, by the wayside;—

  Those soonest from whose forms most shadows passed,

  And least of strength and beauty did abide.

  ‘Then, what is life? I cried.’—

  * * *

  1 The favourite song, Stanco di pascolar le pecorelle, is a Brescian national air.—[MRS. SHELLEY’S NOTE.]

  EARLY POEMS [1814, 1815]

  STANZA, WRITTEN AT BRACKNELL

  THY dewy looks sink in my breast;

  Thy gentle words stir poison there;

  Thou hast disturbed the only rest

  That was the portion of despair!

  5

  Subdued to Duty’s hard control,

  I could have borne my wayward lot:

  The chains that bind this ruined soul

  Had cankered then—but crushed it not.

  STANZAS.—APRIL, 1814

  AWAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon.

  Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even:

  Away the gathering winds will call the darkness soon.

  And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven,

  5

  Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries, Away!

  Tempt not with one last tear thy friend’s ungentle mood:

  Thy lover’s eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:

  Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.

  Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;

  10

  Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;

  Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,

  And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.

&nb
sp; The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head:

  The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:

  15

  But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,

  Ere midnight’s frown and morning’s smile, ere thou and peace may meet.

  The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,

  For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep:

  Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;

  20

  Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its appointed sleep.

  Thou in the grave shalt rest—yet till the phantoms flee

  Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile,

  Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings are not free

  From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.