To catch your skirt and mount to Heaven, —
And still in vain. Oh, might I be
With company akin to me! 195
BOTH CHORUSES:
Some on a ram and some on a prong,
On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along;
Forlorn is the wight who can rise not to-night.
A HALF-WITCH BELOW:
I have been tripping this many an hour:
Are the others already so far before? 200
No quiet at home, and no peace abroad!
And less methinks is found by the road.
CHORUS OF WITCHES:
Come onward, away! aroint thee, aroint!
A witch to be strong must anoint — anoint —
Then every trough will be boat enough; 205
With a rag for a sail we can sweep through the sky,
Who flies not to-night, when means he to fly?
BOTH CHORUSES:
We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground;
Witch-legions thicken around and around;
Wizard-swarms cover the heath all over. 210
(THEY DESCEND.)
MEPHISTOPHELES:
What thronging, dashing, raging, rustling;
What whispering, babbling, hissing, bustling;
What glimmering, spurting, stinking, burning,
As Heaven and Earth were overturning.
There is a true witch element about us; 215
Take hold on me, or we shall be divided: —
Where are you?
FAUST (FROM A DISTANCE):
Here!
MEPHISTOPHELES:
What!
I must exert my authority in the house.
Place for young Voland! pray make way, good people.
Take hold on me, doctor, an with one step 220
Let us escape from this unpleasant crowd:
They are too mad for people of my sort.
Just there shines a peculiar kind of light —
Something attracts me in those bushes. Come
This way: we shall slip down there in a minute. 225
FAUST:
Spirit of Contradiction! Well, lead on —
‘Twere a wise feat indeed to wander out
Into the Brocken upon May-day night,
And then to isolate oneself in scorn,
Disgusted with the humours of the time. 230
MEPHISTOPHELES:
See yonder, round a many-coloured flame
A merry club is huddled altogether:
Even with such little people as sit there
One would not be alone.
FAUST:
Would that I were
Up yonder in the glow and whirling smoke, 235
Where the blind million rush impetuously
To meet the evil ones; there might I solve
Many a riddle that torments me.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Yet
Many a riddle there is tied anew
Inextricably. Let the great world rage! 240
We will stay here safe in the quiet dwellings.
‘Tis an old custom. Men have ever built
Their own small world in the great world of all.
I see young witches naked there, and old ones
Wisely attired with greater decency. 245
Be guided now by me, and you shall buy
A pound of pleasure with a dram of trouble.
I hear them tune their instruments — one must
Get used to this damned scraping. Come, I’ll lead you
Among them; and what there you do and see, 250
As a fresh compact ‘twixt us two shall be.
How say you now? this space is wide enough —
Look forth, you cannot see the end of it —
An hundred bonfires burn in rows, and they
Who throng around them seem innumerable: 255
Dancing and drinking, jabbering, making love,
And cooking, are at work. Now tell me, friend,
What is there better in the world than this?
FAUST:
In introducing us, do you assume
The character of Wizard or of Devil? 260
MEPHISTOPHELES:
In truth, I generally go about
In strict incognito; and yet one likes
To wear one’s orders upon gala days.
I have no ribbon at my knee; but here
At home, the cloven foot is honourable. 265
See you that snail there? — she comes creeping up,
And with her feeling eyes hath smelt out something.
I could not, if I would, mask myself here.
Come now, we’ll go about from fire to fire:
I’ll be the Pimp, and you shall be the Lover. 270
(TO SOME OLD WOMEN, WHO ARE SITTING ROUND A HEAP OF GLIMMERING COALS.)
Old gentlewomen, what do you do out here?
You ought to be with the young rioters
Right in the thickest of the revelry —
But every one is best content at home.
General.
Who dare confide in right or a just claim? 275
So much as I had done for them! and now —
With women and the people ‘tis the same,
Youth will stand foremost ever, — age may go
To the dark grave unhonoured.
MINISTER:
Nowadays
People assert their rights: they go too far; 280
But as for me, the good old times I praise;
Then we were all in all—’twas something worth
One’s while to be in place and wear a star;
That was indeed the golden age on earth.
PARVENU:
We too are active, and we did and do 285
What we ought not, perhaps; and yet we now
Will seize, whilst all things are whirled round and round,
A spoke of Fortune’s wheel, and keep our ground.
AUTHOR:
Who now can taste a treatise of deep sense
And ponderous volume? ‘tis impertinence 290
To write what none will read, therefore will I
To please the young and thoughtless people try.
MEPHISTOPHELES (WHO AT ONCE APPEARS TO HAVE GROWN VERY OLD):
I
find the people ripe for the last day,
Since I last came up to the wizard mountain;
And as my little cask runs turbid now, 295
So is the world drained to the dregs.
PEDLAR-WITCH:
Look here,
Gentlemen; do not hurry on so fast;
And lose the chance of a good pennyworth.
I have a pack full of the choicest wares
Of every sort, and yet in all my bundle 300
Is nothing like what may be found on earth;
Nothing that in a moment will make rich
Men and the world with fine malicious mischief —
There is no dagger drunk with blood; no bowl
From which consuming poison may be drained 305
By innocent and healthy lips; no jewel,
The price of an abandoned maiden’s shame;
No sword which cuts the bond it cannot loose,
Or stabs the wearer’s enemy in the back;
No —
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Gossip, you know little of these times. 310
What has been, has been; what is done, is past,
They shape themselves into the innovations
They breed, and innovation drags us with it.
The torrent of the crowd sweeps over us:
You think to impel, and are yourself impelled. 315
FAUST:
What is that yonder?
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Mark her well. It is
Lilith.
FAUST:
Who?
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Lilith, the first wife of Adam.
&n
bsp; Beware of her fair hair, for she excels
All women in the magic of her locks;
And when she winds them round a young man’s neck, 320
She will not ever set him free again.
FAUST:
There sit a girl and an old woman — they
Seem to be tired with pleasure and with play.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
There is no rest to-night for any one:
When one dance ends another is begun; 325
Come, let us to it. We shall have rare fun.
(FAUST DANCES AND SINGS WITH A GIRL, AND MEPHISTOPHELES WITH AN OLD WOMAN.)
FAUST:
I had once a lovely dream
In which I saw an apple-tree,
Where two fair apples with their gleam
To climb and taste attracted me. 330
THE GIRL:
She with apples you desired
From Paradise came long ago:
With you I feel that if required,
Such still within my garden grow.
…
PROCTO-PHANTASMIST:
What is this cursed multitude about? 335
Have we not long since proved to demonstration
That ghosts move not on ordinary feet?
But these are dancing just like men and women.
THE GIRL:
What does he want then at our ball?
FAUST:
Oh! he
Is far above us all in his conceit: 340
Whilst we enjoy, he reasons of enjoyment;
And any step which in our dance we tread,
If it be left out of his reckoning,
Is not to be considered as a step.
There are few things that scandalize him not: 345
And when you whirl round in the circle now,
As he went round the wheel in his old mill,
He says that you go wrong in all respects,
Especially if you congratulate him
Upon the strength of the resemblance.
PROCTO-PHANTASMIST:
Fly! 350
Vanish! Unheard-of impudence! What, still there!
In this enlightened age too, since you have been
Proved not to exist! — But this infernal brood
Will hear no reason and endure no rule.
Are we so wise, and is the POND still haunted? 355
How long have I been sweeping out this rubbish
Of superstition, and the world will not
Come clean with all my pains! — it is a case
Unheard of!
THE GIRL:
Then leave off teasing us so.
PROCTO-PHANTASMIST:
I tell you, spirits, to your faces now, 360
That I should not regret this despotism
Of spirits, but that mine can wield it not.
To-night I shall make poor work of it,
Yet I will take a round with you, and hope
Before my last step in the living dance 365
To beat the poet and the devil together.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
At last he will sit down in some foul puddle;
That is his way of solacing himself;
Until some leech, diverted with his gravity,
Cures him of spirits and the spirit together. 370
(TO FAUST, WHO HAS SECEDED FROM THE DANCE.)
Why do you let that fair girl pass from you,
Who sung so sweetly to you in the dance?
FAUST:
A red mouse in the middle of her singing
Sprung from her mouth.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
That was all right, my friend:
Be it enough that the mouse was not gray. 375
Do not disturb your hour of happiness
With close consideration of such trifles.
FAUST:
Then saw I —
MEPHISTOPHELES:
What?
FAUST:
Seest thou not a pale,
Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away?
She drags herself now forward with slow steps, 380
And seems as if she moved with shackled feet:
I cannot overcome the thought that she
Is like poor Margaret.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Let it be — pass on —
No good can come of it — it is not well
To meet it — it is an enchanted phantom, 385
A lifeless idol; with its numbing look,
It freezes up the blood of man; and they
Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone,
Like those who saw Medusa.
FAUST:
Oh, too true!
Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse 390
Which no beloved hand has closed, alas!
That is the breast which Margaret yielded to me —
Those are the lovely limbs which I enjoyed!
MEPHISTOPHELES:
It is all magic, poor deluded fool!
She looks to every one like his first love. 395
FAUST:
Oh, what delight! what woe! I cannot turn
My looks from her sweet piteous countenance.
How strangely does a single blood-red line,
Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife,
Adorn her lovely neck!
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Ay, she can carry 400
Her head under her arm upon occasion;
Perseus has cut it off for her. These pleasures
End in delusion. — Gain this rising ground,
It is as airy here as in a…
And if I am not mightily deceived, 405
I see a theatre. — What may this mean?
ATTENDANT:
Quite a new piece, the last of seven, for ‘tis
The custom now to represent that number.
‘Tis written by a Dilettante, and
The actors who perform are Dilettanti; 410
Excuse me, gentlemen; but I must vanish.
I am a Dilettante curtain-lifter.
The Poems
Eton College, destined to be Shelley’s longest place of residence, from 1804 to 1810
Eton College Chapel today
LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
UNTITLED.
TO MISS —— (HARRIET GROVE) FROM MISS —— (ELIZABETH SHELLEY).
SONG. COLD, COLD IS THE BLAST WHEN DECEMBER IS HOWLING
SONG. COME (HARRIET)! SWEET IS THE HOUR
SONG. DESPAIR.
SONG. SORROW.
SONG. HOPE.
SONG. OH! WHAT IS THE GAIN OF RESTLESS CARE
SONG. AH! GRASP THE DIRE DAGGER AND COUCH THE FELL SPEAR
THE IRISHMAN’S SONG.
SONG. FIERCE ROARS THE MIDNIGHT STORM
SONG. TO (HARRIET).
SONG. TO — (HARRIET).
SAINT EDMOND’S EVE.
REVENGE.
GHASTA OR, THE AVENGING DEMON!!!
FRAGMENT, OR THE TRIUMPH OF CONSCIENCE.
WAR.
FRAGMENT: SUPPOSED TO BE AN EPITHALAMIUM OF FRANCIS RAVAILLAC AND CHARLOTTE CORDAY.
SYMPHONY.
DESPAIR.
FRAGMENT.
THE SPECTRAL HORSEMAN.
MELODY TO A SCENE OF FORMER TIMES.
VICTORIA.
ON THE DARK HEIGHT OF JURA.
SISTER ROSA: A BALLAD.
ST. IRVYNE’S TOWER.
BEREAVEMENT.
THE DROWNED LOVER.
STANZA FROM A TRANSLATION OF THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN.
THE DEVIL’S WALK.
QUEEN MAB.
TO HARRIET *****.
VERSES ON A CAT.
FRAGMENT: OMENS.
EPITAPHIUM.
IN HOROLOGIUM.
A DIALOGUE.
TO THE MOONBEAM.
THE SOLITARY.
TO DEATH.
LOVE’S ROSE.
EYES: A FRAGMENT.
BIGOTRY’S VICTIM.
ON AN ICICLE THAT CLUNG TO THE GRASS OF A GRAVE.
LOVE.
ON A FETE AT CARLTON HOUSE: FRAGMENT.
TO A STAR.
TO MARY WHO DIED IN THIS OPINION.
A TALE OF SOCIETY AS IT IS: FROM FACTS, 1811.
TO THE REPUBLICANS OF NORTH AMERICA.
TO IRELAND.
ON ROBERT EMMET’S GRAVE.
THE RETROSPECT: CWM ELAN, 1812.
FRAGMENT OF A SONNET.
TO HARRIET.
TO A BALLOON LADEN WITH KNOWLEDGE.
ON LAUNCHING SOME BOTTLES FILLED WITH KNOWLEDGE INTO THE BRISTOL CHANNEL.
FAREWELL TO NORTH DEVON.
ON LEAVING LONDON FOR WALES.
THE WANDERING JEW’S SOLILOQUY.
EVENING. TO HARRIET.
TO IANTHE.
SONG FROM THE WANDERING JEW.
FRAGMENT FROM THE WANDERING JEW.
TO THE QUEEN OF MY HEART.
STANZA, WRITTEN AT BRACKNELL.
STANZAS. — APRIL, 1814.
TO HARRIET.
TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT GODWIN.
TO — .
MUTABILITY.
ON DEATH.
A SUMMER EVENING CHURCHYARD.
LECHLADE, GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
TO — .
DAKRTSI DIOISO POTMON ‘APOTMON.
TO WORDSWORTH.
FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OF BONAPARTE.
LINES.
THE SUNSET.
HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY.
MONT BLANC.
LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI.
CANCELLED PASSAGE OF MONT BLANC.
HOME. (FRAGMENT)
FRAGMENT OF A GHOST STORY.
NOTE ON POEMS OF 1816, BY MRS. SHELLEY.
MARIANNE’S DREAM.
TO CONSTANTIA, SINGING.
STANZAS 1 AND 2.
TO CONSTANTIA.
TO ONE SINGING. (FRAGMENT)
A FRAGMENT: TO MUSIC. (FRAGMENT)
ANOTHER FRAGMENT: TO MUSIC. (FRAGMENT)
MIGHTY EAGLE’.
SUPPOSED TO BE ADDRESSED TO WILLIAM GODWIN.
TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR.
TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.
FROM THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THE POEM TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.
ON FANNY GODWIN.
LINES.
DEATH.
OTHO.
FRAGMENTS SUPPOSED TO BE PARTS OF OTHO.
O THAT A CHARIOT OF CLOUD WERE MINE’.
TO A FRIEND RELEASED FROM PRISON. (FRAGMENT)
SATAN BROKEN LOOSE. (FRAGMENT)
IGNICULUS DESIDERII. (FRAGMENT)
AMOR AETERNUS. (FRAGMENT)
THOUGHTS COME AND GO IN SOLITUDE. (FRAGMENT)
A HATE-SONG.
LINES TO A CRITIC.
OZYMANDIAS.
TO THE NILE.
PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES.
THE PAST.
TO MARY — .
ON A FADED VIOLET.
LINES WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS.
SCENE FROM ‘TASSO’.
MADDALO, A COURTIER. MALPIGLIO, A POET. PIGNA, A MINISTER. ALBANO, AN USHER.
Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 95