Weaving his idle words, Melchior said:
‘She dreams that we are not yet out of bed; 70
We’ll put a soul into her, and a heart
Which like a dove chased by a dove shall beat.’
…
‘Ay, heave the ballast overboard,
And stow the eatables in the aft locker.’
‘Would not this keg be best a little lowered?’ 75
‘No, now all’s right.’ ‘Those bottles of warm tea —
(Give me some straw) — must be stowed tenderly;
Such as we used, in summer after six,
To cram in greatcoat pockets, and to mix
Hard eggs and radishes and rolls at Eton, 80
And, couched on stolen hay in those green harbours
Farmers called gaps, and we schoolboys called arbours,
Would feast till eight.’
…
With a bottle in one hand,
As if his very soul were at a stand 85
Lionel stood — when Melchior brought him steady: —
‘Sit at the helm — fasten this sheet — all ready!’
The chain is loosed, the sails are spread,
The living breath is fresh behind,
As with dews and sunrise fed, 90
Comes the laughing morning wind; —
The sails are full, the boat makes head
Against the Serchio’s torrent fierce,
Then flags with intermitting course,
And hangs upon the wave, and stems 95
The tempest of the…
Which fervid from its mountain source
Shallow, smooth and strong doth come, —
Swift as fire, tempestuously
It sweeps into the affrighted sea; 100
In morning’s smile its eddies coil,
Its billows sparkle, toss and boil,
Torturing all its quiet light
Into columns fierce and bright.
The Serchio, twisting forth 105
Between the marble barriers which it clove
At Ripafratta, leads through the dread chasm
The wave that died the death which lovers love,
Living in what it sought; as if this spasm
Had not yet passed, the toppling mountains cling, 110
But the clear stream in full enthusiasm
Pours itself on the plain, then wandering
Down one clear path of effluence crystalline
Sends its superfluous waves, that they may fling
At Arno’s feet tribute of corn and wine;
Then, through the pestilential deserts wild
Of tangled marsh and woods of stunted pine,
It rushes to the Ocean.
MUSIC.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.)
1.
I pant for the music which is divine,
My heart in its thirst is a dying flower;
Pour forth the sound like enchanted wine,
Loosen the notes in a silver shower;
Like a herbless plain, for the gentle rain, 5
I gasp, I faint, till they wake again.
2.
Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound,
More, oh more, — I am thirsting yet;
It loosens the serpent which care has bound
Upon my heart to stifle it; 10
The dissolving strain, through every vein,
Passes into my heart and brain.
3.
As the scent of a violet withered up,
Which grew by the brink of a silver lake,
When the hot noon has drained its dewy cup, 15
And mist there was none its thirst to slake —
And the violet lay dead while the odour flew
On the wings of the wind o’er the waters blue —
4.
As one who drinks from a charmed cup
Of foaming, and sparkling, and murmuring wine, 20
Whom, a mighty Enchantress filling up,
Invites to love with her kiss divine…
SONNET TO BYRON.
(Published by Medwin, “The Shelley Papers”, 1832 (lines 1-7), and “Life of Shelley”, 1847 (lines 1-9, 12-14). Revised and completed from the Boscombe manuscript by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.)
(I am afraid these verses will not please you, but)
If I esteemed you less, Envy would kill
Pleasure, and leave to Wonder and Despair
The ministration of the thoughts that fill
The mind which, like a worm whose life may share
A portion of the unapproachable, 5
Marks your creations rise as fast and fair
As perfect worlds at the Creator’s will.
But such is my regard that nor your power
To soar above the heights where others (climb),
Nor fame, that shadow of the unborn hour 10
Cast from the envious future on the time,
Move one regret for his unhonoured name
Who dares these words: — the worm beneath the sod
May lift itself in homage of the God.
FRAGMENT ON KEATS.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition — ED.)
ON KEATS, WHO DESIRED THAT ON HIS TOMB SHOULD BE INSCRIBED —
‘Here lieth One whose name was writ on water.
But, ere the breath that could erase it blew,
Death, in remorse for that fell slaughter,
Death, the immortalizing winter, flew
Athwart the stream, — and time’s printless torrent grew 5
A scroll of crystal, blazoning the name
Of Adonais!
METHOUGHT I WAS A BILLOW IN THE CROWD. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.)
Methought I was a billow in the crowd
Of common men, that stream without a shore,
That ocean which at once is deaf and loud;
That I, a man, stood amid many more
By a wayside…, which the aspect bore 5
Of some imperial metropolis,
Where mighty shapes — pyramid, dome, and tower —
Gleamed like a pile of crags —
TO-MORROW.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.)
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow?
When young and old, and strong and weak,
Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow,
Thy sweet smiles we ever seek, —
In thy place — ah! well-a-day! 5
We find the thing we fled — To-day.
STANZA.
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.
Connected by Dowden with the preceding.)
If I walk in Autumn’s even
While the dead leaves pass,
If I look on Spring’s soft heaven, —
Something is not there which was
Winter’s wondrous frost and snow, 5
Summer’s clouds, where are they now?
A WANDERER. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.)
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream,
Through the dim wildernesses of the mind;
Through desert woods and tracts, which seem
Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.
LIFE ROUNDED WITH SLEEP. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.)
The babe is at peace within the womb;
The corpse is at rest within the tomb:
We begin in what we end.
I FAINT, I PERISH WITH MY LOVE!. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.)
I faint, I perish with my love! I grow
Frail as a cloud whose (splendours) pale
Under the evening’s ever-changing glow:
I die like mist upon the gale,
And like a wave under the calm I fail. 5
THE LADY OF THE SOUTH. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.)
Faint with love, the Lady of the South
Lay in the paradise of Lebanon
Under a heaven of cedar boughs: the drouth
Of love was on her lips; the light was gone
Out of her eyes — 5
ZEPHYRUS THE AWAKENER. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.)
Come, thou awakener of the spirit’s ocean,
Zephyr, whom to thy cloud or cave
No thought can trace! speed with thy gentle motion!
RAIN. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.)
The gentleness of rain was in the wind.
WHEN SOFT WINDS AND SUNNY SKIES. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.)
When soft winds and sunny skies
With the green earth harmonize,
And the young and dewy dawn,
Bold as an unhunted fawn,
Up the windless heaven is gone, — 5
Laugh — for ambushed in the day, —
Clouds and whirlwinds watch their prey.
AND THAT I WALK THUS PROUDLY CROWNED. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.)
And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal
Is that ‘tis my distinction; if I fall,
I shall not weep out of the vital day,
To-morrow dust, nor wear a dull decay.
THE RUDE WIND IS SINGING. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.)
The rude wind is singing
The dirge of the music dead;
The cold worms are clinging
Where kisses were lately fed.
GREAT SPIRIT. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870.)
Great Spirit whom the sea of boundless thought
Nurtures within its unimagined caves,
In which thou sittest sole, as in my mind,
Giving a voice to its mysterious waves —
O THOU IMMORTAL DEITY. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.)
O thou immortal deity
Whose throne is in the depth of human thought,
I do adjure thy power and thee
By all that man may be, by all that he is not,
By all that he has been and yet must be! 5
THE FALSE LAUREL AND THE TRUE. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.)
‘What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest
The wreath to mighty poets only due,
Even whilst like a forgotten moon thou wanest?
Touch not those leaves which for the eternal few
Who wander o’er the Paradise of fame, 5
In sacred dedication ever grew:
One of the crowd thou art without a name.’
‘Ah, friend, ‘tis the false laurel that I wear;
Bright though it seem, it is not the same
As that which bound Milton’s immortal hair; 10
Its dew is poison; and the hopes that quicken
Under its chilling shade, though seeming fair,
Are flowers which die almost before they sicken.’
MAY THE LIMNER. (FRAGMENT)
(This and the three following Fragments were edited from manuscript
Shelley D1 at the Bodleian Library and published by Mr. C.D. Locock,
“Examination”, etc., Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1903. They are printed
here as belonging probably to the year 1821.)
When May is painting with her colours gay
The landscape sketched by April her sweet twin…
BEAUTY’S HALO. (FRAGMENT)
(Published by Mr. C.D. Locock, “Examination”, etc, 1903.)
Thy beauty hangs around thee like
Splendour around the moon —
Thy voice, as silver bells that strike
Upon
THE DEATH KNELL IS RINGING. (FRAGMENT)
(‘This reads like a study for “Autumn, A Dirge”’ (Locock). Might it not be part of a projected Fit v. of “The Fugitives”? — ED.)
(Published by Mr. C.D. Locock, “Examination”, etc., 1903.)
The death knell is ringing
The raven is singing
The earth worm is creeping
The mourners are weeping
Ding dong, bell — 5
I STOOD UPON A HEAVEN-CLEAVING TURRET. (FRAGMENT)
I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret
Which overlooked a wide Metropolis —
And in the temple of my heart my Spirit
Lay prostrate, and with parted lips did kiss
The dust of Desolations (altar) hearth — 5
And with a voice too faint to falter
It shook that trembling fane with its weak prayer
‘Twas noon, — the sleeping skies were blue
The city
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822.
THE ZUCCA.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, and dated
‘January, 1822.’ There is a copy amongst the Boscombe manuscripts.)
1.
Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring,
And infant Winter laughed upon the land
All cloudlessly and cold; — when I, desiring
More in this world than any understand,
Wept o’er the beauty, which, like sea retiring, 5
Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand
Of my lorn heart, and o’er the grass and flowers
Pale for the falsehood of the flattering Hours.
2.
Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep
The instability of all but weeping; 10
And on the Earth lulled in her winter sleep
I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping.
Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep
The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping
From unremembered dreams, shalt … see 15
No death divide thy immortality.
3.
I loved — oh, no, I mean not one of ye,
Or any earthly one, though ye are dear
As human heart to human heart may be; —
I loved, I know not what — but this low sphere 20
And all that it contains, contains not thee,
Thou, whom, seen nowhere, I feel everywhere.
From Heaven and Earth, and all that in them are,
Veiled art thou, like a … star.
4.
By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest, 25
Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden;
Making divine the loftiest and the lowest,
When for a moment thou art not forbidden
To live within the life which thou bestowest;
And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden, 30
Cold as a corpse after the spirit’s flight
Blank as the sun after the birth of night.
5.
In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common,
In music and the sweet unconscious tone
Of animals, and voices which are human, 35
Meant to express some feelings of their own;
In the soft motions and rare smile of woman,
In flowers and leaves, and in the grass fresh-shown,
Or dying in the autumn, I the most
Adore thee present or lament thee lost. 40
6.
And thus I went lamenting, when I saw
A plant upon the river’s margin lie
Like one who loved beyond his nature’s law,
And in despair had cast him down to die;
Its leaves, which had outlived the frost, the thaw 45
Had blighted; like a heart which hatred’s eye
Can blast not, but which pity kills; the dew
Lay on its spotted leaves like tears too true.
7.
The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth
Had crushed it on her maternal breast 50
…
8.
I bore it to my chamber, and I planted
It in a vase full of the lightest mould;
The winter beams which out of Heaven slanted
Fell through the window-panes, disrobed of cold,
Upon its leaves and flowers; the stars which panted 55
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.
9.
The mitigated influences of air
And light revived the plant, and from it grew 60
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,
And every impulse sent to every part
The unbeheld pulsations of its heart. 65
10.
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
Tears pure as Heaven’s rain, which fell upon it 70
Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song
Mixed with the stringed melodies that won it
To leave the gentle lips on which it slept,
Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept.
11.
Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers 75
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;
Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 41