Percy Bysshe Shelley
Page 42
The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers,
The fish were frozen in the pools, the form 80
Of every summer plant was dead
Whilst this….
…
THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT.
(Published by Medwin, “The Athenaeum”, August 11, 1832.
There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.)
1.
‘Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain;
My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain;
My pity on thy heart, poor friend;
And from my fingers flow 5
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.
2.
‘Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not; 10
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;
And that a hand which was not mine 15
Might then have charmed his agony
As I another’s — my heart bleeds
For thine.
3.
‘Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of
The dead and the unborn 20
Forget thy life and love;
Forget that thou must wake forever;
Forget the world’s dull scorn;
Forget lost health, and the divine
Feelings which died in youth’s brief morn; 25
And forget me, for I can never
Be thine.
4.
‘Like a cloud big with a May shower,
My soul weeps healing rain
On thee, thou withered flower! 30
It breathes mute music on thy sleep
Its odour calms thy brain!
Its light within thy gloomy breast
Spreads like a second youth again.
By mine thy being is to its deep 35
Possessed.
5.
‘The spell is done. How feel you now?’
‘Better — Quite well,’ replied
The sleeper.—’What would do 39
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
My chain.’ 45
LINES: ‘WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED’.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.
There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.)
1.
When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead —
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow’s glory is shed.
When the lute is broken, 5
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
2.
As music and splendour
Survive not the lamp and the lute, 10
The heart’s echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute: —
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges 15
That ring the dead seaman’s knell.
3.
When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed. 20
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
4.
Its passions will rock thee 25
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
Will rot, and thine eagle home 30
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
TO JANE: THE INVITATION.
(This and the following poem were published together in their original form as one piece under the title, “The Pine Forest of the Cascine near Pisa”, by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824; reprinted in the same shape, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition; republished separately in their present form, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition. There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.)
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
To the rough Year just awake 5
In its cradle on the brake.
The brightest hour of unborn Spring,
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn
To hoar February born, 10
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,
And waked to music all their fountains, 15
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear. 20
Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs —
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music lest it should not find 25
An echo in another’s mind,
While the touch of Nature’s art
Harmonizes heart to heart.
I leave this notice on my door
For each accustomed visitor: — 30
‘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, —
You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care, — 35
I will pay you in the grave, —
Death will listen to your stave.
Expectation too, be off!
To-day is for itself enough; 40
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, 45
This you never told me of.’
Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
And the pools where winter rains 50.
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;
Where the lawns and pastures be, 55
And the sandhills of the sea; —
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers, and violets,
Which yet join not scent to hue, 60
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,
And the multitudinous 65
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.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.
See the Editor’s prefatory note to
the preceding.)
1.
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!
Up, — to thy wonted work! come, trace 5
The epitaph of glory fled, —
For now the Earth has changed its face,
A frown is on the Heaven’s brow.
2.
We wandered to the Pine Forest
That skirts the Ocean’s foam, 10
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.
The whispering waves were half asleep,
The clouds were gone to play,
And on the bosom of the deep 15
The smile of Heaven lay;
It seemed as if the hour were one
Sent from beyond the skies,
Which scattered from above the sun
A light of Paradise. 20
3.
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, 25
That under Heaven is blown,
To harmonies and hues beneath,
As tender as its own,
Now all the tree-tops lay asleep,
Like green waves on the sea, 30
As still as in the silent deep
The ocean woods may be.
4.
How calm it was! — the silence there
By such a chain was bound
That even the busy woodpecker 35
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. 40
There seemed from the remotest seat
Of the white mountain waste,
To the soft flower beneath our feet,
A magic circle traced, —
A spirit interfused around 45
A thrilling, silent life, —
To momentary peace it bound
Our mortal nature’s strife;
And still I felt the centre of
The magic circle there 50
Was one fair form that filled with love
The lifeless atmosphere.
5.
We paused beside the pools that lie
Under the forest bough, —
Each seemed as ‘twere a little sky 55
Gulfed in a world below;
A firmament of purple light
Which in the dark earth lay,
More boundless than the depth of night,
And purer than the day — 60
In which the lovely forests grew,
As in the upper air,
More perfect both in shape and hue
Than any spreading there.
There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, 65
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
Can never well be seen, 70
Were imaged by the water’s love
Of that fair forest green.
And all was interfused beneath
With an Elysian glow,
An atmosphere without a breath, 75
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; 80
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, 85
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.
(This, the first draft of “To Jane: The Invitation, The Recollection”,
was published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, and reprinted,
“Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition. See Editor’s Prefatory Note to
“The Invitation”, above.)
Dearest, best and brightest,
Come away,
To the woods and to the fields!
Dearer than this fairest day
Which, like thee to those in sorrow, 5
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,
Into the Winter wandering, 10
Looks upon the leafless wood,
And the banks all bare and rude;
Found, it seems, this halcyon Morn
In February’s bosom born,
Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, 15
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,
And breathed upon the rigid mountains, 20
And made the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, Dear.
Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains, 25
To the pools where winter rains
Image all the roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Sapless, gray, and ivy dun
Round stems that never kiss the sun — 30
To the sandhills of the sea,
Where the earliest violets be.
Now the last day of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The loveliest and the last, is dead, 35
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,
A frown is on the Heaven’s brow. 40
We wandered to the Pine Forest
That skirts the Ocean’s foam,
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.
The whispering waves were half asleep, 45
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
Sent from beyond the skies, 50
Which shed to earth above the sun
A light of Paradise.
We paused amid the pines that stood,
The giants of the waste,
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude 55
With stems like serpents interlaced.
How calm it was — the silence there
By such a chain was bound,
That even the busy woodpecker
Made stiller by her sound 60
The inviolable quietness;
The breath of peace we drew
With its soft motion made not less
The calm that round us grew.
It seemed that from the remotest seat 65
Of the white mountain’s waste
To the bright flower beneath our feet,
A magic circle traced; —
A spirit interfused around,
A thinking, silent life; 70
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 75
The breathless atmosphere.
Were not the crocuses that grew
Under that ilex-tree
As beautiful in scent and hue
>
As ever fed the bee? 80
We stood beneath the pools that lie
Under the forest bough,
And each seemed like a sky
Gulfed in a world below;
A purple firmament of light 85
Which in the dark earth lay,
More boundless than the depth of night,
And clearer than the day —
In which the massy forests grew
As in the upper air, 90
More perfect both in shape and hue
Than any waving there.
Like one beloved the scene had lent
To the dark water’s breast
Its every leaf and lineament 95
With that clear truth expressed;
There lay far glades and neighbouring lawn,
And through the dark green crowd
The white sun twinkling like the dawn
Under a speckled cloud. 100
Sweet views, which in our world above
Can never well be seen,
Were imaged by the water’s love
Of that fair forest green.
And all was interfused beneath 105
With an Elysian air,
An atmosphere without a breath,
A silence sleeping there.
Until a wandering wind crept by,
Like an unwelcome thought, 110
Which from my mind’s too faithful eye
Blots thy bright image out.
For thou art good and dear and kind,
The forest ever green,
But less of peace in S—’s mind,
Than calm in waters, seen. 116.
WITH A GUITAR, TO JANE.
(Published by Medwin, “The Athenaeum”, October 20, 1832; “Frazer’s Magazine”, January 1833. There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.)
Ariel to Miranda: — Take
This slave of Music, for the sake
Of him who is the slave of thee,
And teach it all the harmony
In which thou canst, and only thou, 5
Make the delighted spirit glow,
Till joy denies itself again,
And, too intense, is turned to pain;
For by permission and command
Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, 10
Poor Ariel sends this silent token
Of more than ever can be spoken;
Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who,
From life to life, must still pursue
Your happiness; — for thus alone 15
Can Ariel ever find his own.
From Prospero’s enchanted cell,
As the mighty verses tell,
To the throne of Naples, he
Lit you o’er the trackless sea, 20
Flitting on, your prow before,
Like a living meteor.
When you die, the silent Moon,
In her interlunar swoon,
Is not sadder in her cell
Than deserted Ariel.
When you live again on earth,
Like an unseen star of birth,