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

Page 94

by Percy Bysshe Shelley


  Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—

  15

  Its mother’s face with Heaven’s collected tears,

  When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears.

  III

  And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,

  Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,

  And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine

  20

  Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;

  And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,

  With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;

  And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,

  Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.

  IV

  25

  And nearer to the river’s trembling edge

  There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,

  And starry river buds among the sedge,

  And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,

  Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge

  30

  With moonlight beams of their own watery light;

  And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green

  As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

  V

  Methought that of these visionary flowers

  I made a nosegay, bound in such a way

  35

  That the same hues, which in their natural bowers

  Were mingled or opposed, the like array

  Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours

  Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,

  I hastened to the spot whence I had come,

  40

  That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?

  THE TWO SPIRITS: AN ALLEGORY

  First Spirit.

  O THOU, who plumed with strong desire

  Wouldst float above the earth, beware!

  A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire—

  Night is coming!

  5

  Bright are the regions of the air,

  And among the winds and beams

  It were delight to wander there—

  Night is coming!

  Second Spirit.

  The deathless stars are bright above;

  10

  If I would cross the shade of night,

  Within my heart is the lamp of love,

  And that is day!

  And the moon will smile with gentle light

  On my golden plumes where’er they move;

  15

  The meteors will linger round my flight,

  And make night day.

  First Spirit

  But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken

  Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain;

  See, the bounds of the air are shaken—

  20

  Night is coming!

  The red swift clouds of the hurricane

  Yon declining sun have overtaken,

  The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain—

  Night is coming!

  Second Spirit.

  25

  I see the light, and I hear the sound;

  I’ll sail on the flood of the tempest dark,

  With the calm within and the light around

  Which makes night day:

  And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark,

  30

  Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound,

  My moon-like flight thou then mayst mark

  On high, far away.

  Some say there is a precipice

  Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin

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  O’er piles of snow and chasms of ice

  Mid Alpine mountains;

  And that the languid storm pursuing

  That wingèd shape, for ever flies

  Round those hoar branches, aye renewing

  40

  Its aëry fountains.

  Some say when nights are dry and clear,

  And the death-dews sleep on the morass,

  Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller,

  Which make night day:

  45

  And a silver shape like his early love doth pass

  Upborne by her wild and glittering hair,

  And when he awakes on the fragrant grass,

  He finds night day.

  ODE TO NAPLES2

  EPODE I α

  I STOOD within the City disinterred;3

  And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls

  Of spirits passing through the streets; and heard

  The Mountain’s slumberous voice at intervals

  5

  Thrill through those roofless halls;

  The oracular thunder penetrating shook

  The listening soul in my suspended blood;

  I felt that Earth out of her deep heart spoke—

  I felt, but heard not:—through white columns glowed

  10

  The isle-sustaining ocean-flood,

  A plane of light between two heavens of azure!

  Around me gleamed many a bright sepulchre

  Of whose pure beauty, Time, as if his pleasure

  Were to spare Death, had never made erasure;

  15

  But every living lineament was clear

  As in the sculptor’s thought; and there

  The wreaths of stony myrtle, ivy, and pine,

  Like winter leaves o’ergrown by moulded snow,

  Seemed only not to move and grow

  20

  Because the crystal silence of the air

  Weighed on their life; even as the Power divine

  Which then lulled all things, brooded upon mine.

  EPODE II α

  Then gentle winds arose

  With many a mingled close

  25

  Of wild Aeolian sound, and mountain-odours keen;

  And where the Baian ocean

  Welters with airlike motion,

  Within, above, around its bowers of starry green,

  Moving the sea-flowers in those purple caves,

  30

  Even as the ever stormless atmosphere

  Floats o’er the Elysian realm.

  It bore me, like an Angel, o’er the waves

  Of sunlight, whose swift pinnace of dewy air

  No storm can overwhelm.

  35

  I sailed, where ever flows

  Under the calm Serene

  A spirit of deep emotion

  From the unknown graves

  Of the dead Kings of Melody.4

  40

  Shadowy Aornos darkened o’er the helm

  The horizontal aether; Heaven stripped bare

  Its depth over Elysium, where the prow

  Made the invisible water white as snow;

  From that Typhaean mount, Inarime,

  45

  There streamed a sunbright vapour, like the standard

  Of some aethereal host;

  Whilst from all the coast,

  Louder and louder, gathering round, there wandered

  Over the oracular woods and divine sea

  50

  Prophesyings which grew articulate—

  They seize me—I must speak them!—be they fate!

  STROPHE I

  Naples! thou Heart of men which ever pantest

  Naked, beneath the lidless eye of Heaven!

  Elysian City, which to calm enchantest

  55

  The mutinous air and sea! they round thee, even

  As sleep round Love, are driven!

  Metropolis of a ruined Paradise

  Long lost, late won, and yet but half regained!

  Bright Altar of the bloodless sacrifice,

  60

  Which armèd Victory offers up unstained

  To Love, the flower-enchained!

  Thou which wert once, and then didst cease to be,

  Now art, and henceforth ever shalt be, free,

  If Hope, and Truth, and Justic
e can avail,

  65

  Hail, hail, all hail!

  STROPHE II

  Thou youngest giant birth

  Which from the groaning earth

  Leap’st, clothed in armour of impenetrable scale!

  Last of the Intercessors!

  70

  Who ’gainst the Crowned Transgressors

  Pleadest before God’s love! Arrayed in Wisdom’s mail,

  Wave thy lightning lance in mirth

  Nor let thy high heart fail,

  Though from their hundred gates the leagued Oppressors

  75

  With hurried legions move!

  Hail, hail, all hail!

  ANTISTROPHE I α

  What though Cimmerian Anarchs dare blaspheme

  Freedom and thee? thy shield is as a mirror

  To make their blind slaves see, and with fierce gleam

  80

  To turn his hungry sword upon the wearer;

  A new Actaeon’s error

  Shall theirs have been—devoured by their own hounds!

  Be thou like the imperial Basilisk

  Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds!

  85

  Gaze on Oppression, till at that dread risk

  Aghast she pass from the Earth’s disk:

  Fear not, but gaze—for freemen mightier grow,

  And slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe:—

  If Hope, and Truth, and Justice may avail,

  90

  Thou shalt be great—All hail!

  ANTISTROPHE II α

  From Freedom’s form divine,

  From Nature’s inmost shrine,

  Strip every impious gawd, rend Error veil by veil;

  O’er Ruin desolate,

  95

  O’er Falsehood’s fallen state,

  Sit thou sublime, unawed; be the Destroyer pale!

  And equal laws be thine,

  And wingèd words let sail,

  Freighted with truth even from the throne of God:

  100

  That wealth, surviving fate,

  Be thine.—All hail!

  ANTISTROPHE I β

  Didst thou not start to hear Spain’s thrilling paean

  From land to land re-echoed solemnly,

  Till silence became music? From the Aeaean5

  105

  To the cold Alps, eternal Italy

  Starts to hear thine! The Sea

  Which paves the desert streets of Venice laughs

  In light and music; widowed Genoa wan

  By moonlight spells ancestral epitaphs,

  110

  Murmuring, ‘Where is Doria?’ fair Milan,

  Within whose veins long ran

  The viper’s6 palsying venom, lifts her heel

  To bruise his head. The signal and the seal

  (If Hope and Truth and Justice can avail)

  115

  Art thou of all these hopes.—O hail!

  ANTISTROPHE II β

  Florence! beneath the sun,

  Of cities fairest one,

  Blushes within her bower for Freedom’s expectation:

  From eyes of quenchless hope

  120

  Rome tears the priestly cope,

  As ruling once by power, so now by admiration,—

  An athlete stripped to run

  From a remoter station

  For the high prize lost on Philippi’s shore:—

  125

  As then Hope, Truth, and Justice did avail,

  So now may Fraud and Wrong! O hail!

  EPODE I β

  Hear ye the march as of the Earth-born Forms

  Arrayed against the ever-living Gods?

  The crash and darkness of a thousand storms

  130

  Bursting their inaccessible abodes

  Of crags and thunder-clouds?

  See ye the banners blazoned to the day,

  Inwrought with emblems of barbaric pride?

  Dissonant threats kill Silence far away,

  135

  The serene Heaven which wraps our Eden wide

  With iron light is dyed;

  The Anarchs of the North lead forth their legions

  Like Chaos o’er creation, uncreating;

  An hundred tribes nourished on strange religions

  140

  And lawless slaveries,—down the aëreal regions

  Of the white Alps, desolating,

  Famished wolves that bide no waiting,

  Blotting the glowing footsteps of old glory,

  Trampling our columned cities into dust,

  145

  Their dull and savage lust

  On Beauty’s corse to sickness satiating—

  They come! The fields they tread look black and hoary

  With fire—from their red feet the streams run gory!

  EPODE II β

  Great Spirit, deepest Love!

  150

  Which rulest and dost move

  All things which live and are, within the Italian shore;

  Who spreadest Heaven around it,

  Whose woods, rocks, waves, surround it;

  Who sittest in thy star, o’er Ocean’s western floor;

  155

  Spirit of beauty! at whose soft command

  The sunbeams and the showers distil its foison

  From the Earth’s bosom chill;

  Oh, bid those beams be each a blinding brand

  Of lightning! bid those showers be dews of poison!

  160

  Bid the Earth’s plenty kill!

  Bid thy bright Heaven above,

  Whilst light and darkness bound it,

  Be their tomb who planned

  To make it ours and thine!

  165

  Or, with thine harmonizing ardours fill

  And raise thy sons, as o’er the prone horizon

  Thy lamp feeds every twilight wave with fire—

  Be man’s high hope and unextinct desire

  The instrument to work thy will divine!

  170

  Then clouds from sunbeams, antelopes from leopards,

  And frowns and fears from thee,

  Would not more swiftly flee

  Than Celtic wolves from the Ausonian shepherds.—

  Whatever, Spirit, from thy starry shrine

  175

  Thou yieldest or withholdest, oh, let be

  This city of thy worship ever free!

  AUTUMN: A DIRGE

  I

  THE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,

  The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,

  And the Year

  On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,

  5

  Is lying.

  Come, Months, come away,

  From November to May,

  In your saddest array;

  Follow the bier

  10

  Of the dead cold Year,

  And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.

  II

  The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,

  The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling

  For the Year;

  15

  The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone

  To his dwelling;

  Come, Months, come away;

  Put on white, black, and gray;

  Let your light sisters play—

  20

  Ye, follow the bier

  Of the dead cold Year,

  And make her grave green with tear on tear.

  THE WANING MOON

  AND like a dying lady, lean and pale,

  Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil,

  Out of her chamber, led by the insane

  And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,

  5

  The moon arose up in the murky East,

  A white and shapeless mass—

  TO THE MOON

&nbs
p; I

  ART thou pale for weariness

  Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,

  Wandering companionless

  Among the stars that have a different birth,—

  5

  And ever changing, like a joyless eye

  That finds no object worth its constancy?

  II

  Thou chosen sister of the Spirit,

  That gazes on thee till in thee it pities …

  DEATH

  I

  DEATH is here and death is there,

  Death is busy everywhere,

  All around, within, beneath,

  Above is death—and we are death.

  II

  5

  Death has set his mark and seal

  On all we are and all we feel,

  On all we know and all we fear,

  · · ·

  III

  First our pleasures die—and then

  Our hopes, and then our fears—and when

  10

  These are dead, the debt is due,

  Dust claims dust—and we die too.

  IV

  All things that we love and cherish,

  Like ourselves must fade and perish;

  Such is our rude mortal lot—

  15

  Love itself would, did they not.

  LIBERTY

  I

  THE fiery mountains answer each other;

  Their thunderings are echoed from zone to zone;

  The tempestuous oceans awake one another,

  And the ice-rocks are shaken round Winter’s throne,

  5

  When the clarion of the Typhoon is blown.

  II

  From a single cloud the lightening flashes,

  Whilst a thousand isles are illumined around,

 

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