Which they had known before that hour of rest; 320
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
‘When the sun lingered o’er his ocean floor 325
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,
Nor other music blot from memory, 330
‘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 woke to weep,
I know not. I arose, and for a space 335
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
‘Was filled with magic sounds woven into one 340
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,
And the sun’s image radiantly intense 345
‘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
‘A silver music on the mossy lawn; 355
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
Fell from her as she moved under the mass 360
‘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
Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream 365
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
‘Partly to tread the waves with feet which kissed 370
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;
And her feet, ever to the ceaseless song 375
‘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
Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon, 380
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
‘All that was, seemed as if it had been not; 385
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
Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath 390
‘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
Suspended, I said — If, as it doth seem, 395
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.
‘Arise and quench thy thirst, was her reply. 400
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,
And suddenly my brain became as sand 405
‘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,
Until the second bursts; — so on my sight 410
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
‘Of sunrise, ere it tinge the mountain-tops; 415
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
Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it, 420
‘Or the soft note in which his dear lament
The Brescian shepherd breathes, or the caress
That turned his weary slumber to content;
‘So knew I in that light’s severe excess
The presence of that Shape which on the stream 425
Moved, as I moved along the wilderness,
‘More dimly than a day-appearing dream,
The host of a forgotten form of sleep;
A light of heaven, whose half-extinguished beam
‘Through the sick day in which we wake to weep 430
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,
With solemn speed and stunning music, crossed 435
‘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
And green and azure plumes of Iris had 440
Built high over her wind-winged pavilion,
‘And underneath aethereal glory clad
The wilderness, and far before her flew
The tempest of the splendour, which forbade
‘Shadow to fall from leaf and stone; the crew 445
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,
Forgetful of the chariot’s swift advance; 450
‘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
Round the high moon in a bright sea of air; 455
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
‘Borne onward. — I among the multitude 460
Me, not the shadow nor the solitude;
‘Me, not that falling stream’s Lethean song;
Me, not the phantom of that early Form
Which moved upon its motion — but among 465
‘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
The opposing steep of that mysterious dell, 470
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
‘The words of hate and awe; the wondrous story 475
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 —
A wonder worthy of his rhyme. — The grove 480
‘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
Of the tropic sun, bringing, ere evening, 485
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
‘Were lost in the white day; others like elves 490
Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes
Upon the sunny streams and grassy shelves;
‘And others sate chattering like restless apes
On vulgar hands,…
Some made a cradle of the ermined capes 495
‘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
Their nests in it. The old anatomies 500
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,
‘Who made this earth their charnel. Others more 505
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
Of lawyers, statesmen, priest and theorist; — 510
‘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
A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained 515
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;
‘From every firmest limb and fairest face 520
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,
Desire, like a lioness bereft 525
‘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,
‘As the sun shapes the clouds; thus on the way 535
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;
And some grew weary of the ghastly dance, 540
‘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.’ —
CANCELLED OPENING OF THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE.
[Published by Miss M. Blind, “Westminster Review”, July, 1870.]
Out of the eastern shadow of the Earth,
Amid the clouds upon its margin gray
Scattered by Night to swathe in its bright birth
In gold and fleecy snow the infant Day,
The glorious Sun arose: beneath his light, 5
The earth and all…
TRANSLATIONS
CONTENTS
HYMN TO MERCURY.
HOMER’S HYMN TO CASTOR AND POLLUX.
HOMER’S HYMN TO THE MOON.
HOMER’S HYMN TO THE SUN.
HOMER’S HYMN TO THE EARTH: MOTHER OF ALL.
HOMER’S HYMN TO MINERVA.
HOMER’S HYMN TO VENUS.
THE CYCLOPS.
SILENUS. ULYSSES. CHORUS OF SATYRS. THE CYCLOPS.
EPIGRAMS.
FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS.
FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BION.
PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR.
FROM VERGIL’S TENTH ECLOGUE.
FROM VERGIL’S FOURTH GEORGIC.
SONNET. DANTE ALIGHIERI TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI
THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE CONVITO.
MATILDA GATHERING FLOWERS.
FRAGMENT ADAPTED FROM THE VITA NUOVA OF DANTE.
SONNET FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI.
SCENES FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO.
STANZAS FROM CALDERON’S CISMA DE INGLATERRA.
SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.
HYMN TO MERCURY.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. This alone of the “Translations” is included in the Harvard manuscript book. ‘Fragments of the drafts of this and the other Hymns of Homer exist among the Boscombe manuscripts’ (Forman).)
1.
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
The Herald-child, king of Arcadia
And all its pastoral hills, whom in sweet love
Having been interwoven, modest May
Bore Heaven’s dread Supreme. An antique grove 5
Shadowed the cavern where the lovers lay
In the deep night, unseen by Gods or Men,
And white-armed Juno slumbered sweetly then.
2.
Now, when the joy of Jove had its fulfilling,
And Heaven’s tenth moon chronicled her relief, 10
She gave to light a babe all babes excelling,
A schemer subtle beyond all belief;
A shepherd of thin dreams, a cow-stealing,
A night-watching, and door-waylaying thief,
Who ‘mongst the Gods was soon about to thieve, 15
And other glorious actions to achieve.
3.
The babe was born at the first peep of day;
He began playing on the lyre at noon,
And the same evening did he steal away
Apollo’s herds; — the fourth day of the moon 20
On which him bore the venerable May,
From her immortal limbs he leaped full soon,
Nor long could in t
he sacred cradle keep,
But out to seek Apollo’s herds would creep.
4.
Out of the lofty cavern wandering 25
He found a tortoise, and cried out—’A treasure!’
(For Mercury first made the tortoise sing)
The beast before the portal at his leisure
The flowery herbage was depasturing,
Moving his feet in a deliberate measure 30
Over the turf. Jove’s profitable son
Eying him laughed, and laughing thus begun: —
5.
‘A useful godsend are you to me now,
King of the dance, companion of the feast,
Lovely in all your nature! Welcome, you 35
Excellent plaything! Where, sweet mountain-beast,
Got you that speckled shell? Thus much I know,
You must come home with me and be my guest;
You will give joy to me, and I will do
All that is in my power to honour you. 40
6.
‘Better to be at home than out of door,
So come with me; and though it has been said
That you alive defend from magic power,
I know you will sing sweetly when you’re dead.’
Thus having spoken, the quaint infant bore, 45
Lifting it from the grass on which it fed
And grasping it in his delighted hold,
His treasured prize into the cavern old.
7.
Then scooping with a chisel of gray steel,
He bored the life and soul out of the beast. — 50
Not swifter a swift thought of woe or weal
Darts through the tumult of a human breast
Which thronging cares annoy — not swifter wheel
The flashes of its torture and unrest
Out of the dizzy eyes — than Maia’s son 55
All that he did devise hath featly done.
8.
…
And through the tortoise’s hard stony skin
At proper distances small holes he made,
And fastened the cut stems of reeds within,
And with a piece of leather overlaid 60
The open space and fixed the cubits in,
Fitting the bridge to both, and stretched o’er all
Symphonious cords of sheep-gut rhythmical.
9.
When he had wrought the lovely instrument,
He tried the chords, and made division meet, 65
Preluding with the plectrum, and there went
Up from beneath his hand a tumult sweet
Of mighty sounds, and from his lips he sent
A strain of unpremeditated wit
Joyous and wild and wanton — such you may 70
Hear among revellers on a holiday.
10.
He sung how Jove and May of the bright sandal
Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series Page 84