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.
IX
The mitigated influences of air
60
And light revived the plant, and from it grew
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,
65
And every impulse sent to every part
The unbeheld pulsations of its heart
X
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
70
Tears pure as Heaven’s rain, which fell upon it
Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song
Mixed with the stringèd melodies that won it
To leave the gentle lips on which it slept,
Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept.
XI
75
Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers
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,
80
The fish were frozen in the pools, the form
Of every summer plant was dead …
Whilst this …
· · · · · · ·
THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT
I
‘SLEEP, sleep on! forget thy pain;
My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain;
My pity on thy heart, poor friend;
5
And from my fingers flow
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.
II
10
‘Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not;
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;
15
And that a hand which was not mine
Might then have charmed his agony
As I another’s—my heart bleeds
For thine.
III
‘Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of
20
The dead and the unborn
Forget thy life and love;
Forget that thou must wake for ever;
Forget the world’s dull scorn;
Forget lost health, and the divine
25
Feelings which died in youth’s brief morn;
And forget me, for I can never
Be thine.
IV
‘Like a cloud big with a May shower,
My soul weeps healing rain
30
On thee, thou withered flower!
It breathes mute music on thy sleep;
Its odour calms thy brain!
Its light within thy gloomy breast
Spreads like a second youth again.
35
By mine thy being is to its deep
Possessed.
V
‘The spell is done. How feel you now?’
‘Better—Quite well,’ replied
The sleeper.—‘What would do
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
45
My chain.’
LINES: ‘WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED’
I
WHEN the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead—
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow’s glory is shed.
5
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
II
As music and splendour
10
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart’s echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute:—
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
15
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman’s knell.
III
When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
20
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
IV
25
Its passions will rock thee
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
30
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
TO JANE: THE INVITATION
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
5
To the rough Year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.
The brightest hour of unborn Spring,
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn
10
To hoar February born.
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,
15
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
20
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.
Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs—
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
25
Its music lest it should not find
An echo in another’s mind,
While the touch of Nature’s art
Harmonizes heart to heart.
I leave this notice on my door
30
For each accustomed visitor:—
‘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,—
35
You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care,—
I will pay you in the grave,—
Death will listen to your stave.
Expectation too, be off!
40
To-day is for itself enough;
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,
This you never told me of.’
Radiant S
ister of the Day,
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
50
And the pools where winter rains
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;
55
Where the lawns and pastures be,
And the sandhills of the sea;—
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers, and violets,
60
Which yet join not scent to hue,
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,
65
And the multitudinous
Billows murmur at our feet,
Where the earth and ocean meet,
And all things seem only one
In the universal sun.
TO JANE: THE RECOLLECTION
I
Now the last day of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The loveliest and the last, is dead,
Rise, Memory, and write its praise!
5
Up,—to thy wonted work! come, trace
The epitaph of glory fled,—
For now the Earth has changed its face,
A frown is on the Heaven’s brow.
II
We wandered to the Pine Forest
10
That skirts the Ocean’s foam,
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.
The whispering waves were half asleep,
The clouds were gone to play,
15
And on the bosom of the deep
The smile of Heaven lay;
It seemed as if the hour were one
Sent from beyond the skies,
Which scattered from above the sun
20
A light of Paradise.
III
We paused amid the pines that stood
The giants of the waste,
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
As serpents interlaced,
And soothed by every azure breath,
That under Heaven is blown,
To harmonies and hues beneath,
As tender as its own;
Now all the tree-tops lay asleep,
30
Like green waves on the sea,
As still as in the silent deep
The ocean woods may be.
IV
How calm it was!—the silence there
By such a chain was bound
35
That even the busy woodpecker
Made stiller by her sound
The inviolable quietness;
The breath of peace we drew
With its soft motion made not less
40
The calm that round us grew.
There seemed from the remotest seat
Of the white mountain waste,
To the soft flower beneath our feet,
A magic circle traced,—
45
A spirit interfused around,
A thrilling, silent life.—
To momentary peace it bound
Our mortal nature’s strife;
And still I felt the centre of
50
The magic circle there
Was one fair form that filled with love
The lifeless atmosphere.
V
We paused beside the pools that lie
Under the forest bough.—
55
Each seemed as ’twere a little sky
Gulfed in a world below;
A firmament of purple light
Which in the dark earth lay,
More boundless than the depth of night,
60
And purer than the day—
In which the lovely forests grew,
As in the upper air,
More perfect both in shape and hue
Than any spreading there.
65
There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn,
And through the dark green wood
The white sun twinkling like the dawn
Out of a speckled cloud.
Sweet views which in our world above
70
Can never well be seen,
Were imaged by the water’s love
Of that fair forest green.
And all was interfused beneath
With an Elysian glow,
75
An atmosphere without a breath,
A softer day below.
Like one beloved the scene had lent
To the dark water’s breast,
Its every leaf and lineament
With more than truth expressed;
Until an envious wind crept by,
Like an unwelcome thought,
Which from the mind’s too faithful eye
Blots one dear image out.
Though thou art ever fair and kind,
The forests ever green,
Less oft is peace in Shelley’s mind,
Than calm in waters, seen.
THE PINE FOREST OF THE CASCINE NEAR PISA
DEAREST, best and brightest,
Come away,
To the woods and to the fields!
Dearer than this fairest day
5
Which, like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough Year just awake
In its cradle in the brake.
The eldest of the Hours of Spring,
10
Into the Winter wandering,
Looks upon the leafless wood,
And the banks all bare and rude;
Found, it seems, this halcyon Morn
In February’s bosom born,
15
Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,
Kissed the cold forehead of the Earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free;
And waked to music all the fountains,
20
And breathed upon the rigid mountains,
And made the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, Dear.
Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise! and come away!
25
To the wild woods and the plains,
To the pools where winter rains
Image all the roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Sapless, gray, and ivy dun
30
Round stems that never kiss the sun—
To the sandhills of the sea,
Where the earliest violets be.
Now the last day of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
35
The loveliest and the last, is dead,
Rise, Memory, and write its praise!
And do thy wonted work and trace
The epitaph of glory fled;
For now the Earth has changed its face,
40
A frown is on the Heaven’s brow.
We wandered to the Pine Forest
That skirts the Ocean’s foam,
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.
45
The whispering waves were half asleep,
The clouds were gone to play,
And on the woods, and on the deep
The smile of Heaven lay.
It seemed as if the day were one
50
Sent from beyond the skies,
Which shed to earth above the sun
A light of Paradise.
We p
aused amid the pines that stood,
The giants of the waste,
55
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
With stems like serpents interlaced.
How calm it was—the silence there
By such a chain was bound,
That even the busy woodpecker
60
Made stiller by her sound
The inviolable quietness;
The breath of peace we drew
With its soft motion made not less
The calm that round us grew.
65
It seemed that from the remotest seat
Of the white mountain’s waste
To the bright flower beneath our feet,
A magic circle traced;—
A spirit interfused around,
70
A thinking, silent life;
To momentary peace it bound
Our mortal nature’s strife;—
And still, it seemed, the centre of
The magic circle there,
Was one whose being filled with love
The breathless atmosphere.
Were not the crocuses that grew
Under that ilex-tree
As beautiful in scent and hue
80
As ever fed the bee?
We stood beneath the pools that lie
Under the forest bough,
And each seemed like a sky
Gulfed in a world below;
85
A purple firmament of light
Which in the dark earth lay,
More boundless than the depth of night,
And clearer than the day—
In which the massy forests grew
90
As in the upper air,
More perfect both in shape and hue
Than any waving there.
Like one beloved the scene had lent
The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 101
