What, Mother, do you laugh now he is dead?
‘Who has known me of old,’ replied Earth,
‘Or who has my story told?
It is thou who art overbold.’
And the lightning of scorn laughed forth 20
As she sung, ‘To my bosom I fold
All my sons when their knell is knolled,
And so with living motion all are fed,
And the quick spring like weeds out of the dead.
‘Still alive and still bold,’ shouted Earth, 25
‘I grow bolder and still more bold.
The dead fill me ten thousandfold
Fuller of speed, and splendour, and mirth.
I was cloudy, and sullen, and cold,
Like a frozen chaos uprolled, 30
Till by the spirit of the mighty dead
My heart grew warm. I feed on whom I fed.
‘Ay, alive and still bold.’ muttered Earth,
‘Napoleon’s fierce spirit rolled,
In terror and blood and gold, 35
A torrent of ruin to death from his birth.
Leave the millions who follow to mould
The metal before it be cold;
And weave into his shame, which like the dead
Shrouds me, the hopes that from his glory fled.’ 40
SONNET: POLITICAL GREATNESS.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824. There is a transcript, headed “Sonnet to the Republic of Benevento”, in the Harvard manuscript book.)
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame,
Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts,
Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes tame;
Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts,
History is but the shadow of their shame, 5
Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts
As to oblivion their blind millions fleet,
Staining that Heaven with obscene imagery
Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit
By force or custom? Man who man would be, 10
Must rule the empire of himself; in it
Must be supreme, establishing his throne
On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy
Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.
THE AZIOLA.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley in “The Keepsake”, 1829.)
1.
‘Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
Methinks she must be nigh,’
Said Mary, as we sate
In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought;
And I, who thought 5
This Aziola was some tedious woman,
Asked, ‘Who is Aziola?’ How elate
I felt to know that it was nothing human,
No mockery of myself to fear or hate:
And Mary saw my soul, 10
And laughed, and said, ‘Disquiet yourself not;
‘Tis nothing but a little downy owl.’
2.
Sad Aziola! many an eventide
Thy music I had heard
By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side, 15
And fields and marshes wide, —
Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird,
The soul ever stirred;
Unlike and far sweeter than them all.
Sad Aziola! from that moment I 20
Loved thee and thy sad cry.
A LAMENT.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.)
1.
O world! O life! O time!
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before;
When will return the glory of your prime?
No more — Oh, never more! 5
2.
Out of the day and night
A joy has taken flight;
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
No more — Oh, never more! 10
REMEMBRANCE.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824, where it is entitled “A Lament”. Three manuscript copies are extant: The Trelawny manuscript (“Remembrance”), the Harvard manuscript (“Song”) and the Houghton manuscript — the last written by Shelley on a flyleaf of a copy of “Adonais”.)
1.
Swifter far than summer’s flight —
Swifter far than youth’s delight —
Swifter far than happy night,
Art thou come and gone —
As the earth when leaves are dead, 5
As the night when sleep is sped,
As the heart when joy is fled,
I am left lone, alone.
2.
The swallow summer comes again —
The owlet night resumes her reign — 10
But the wild-swan youth is fain
To fly with thee, false as thou. —
My heart each day desires the morrow;
Sleep itself is turned to sorrow;
Vainly would my winter borrow 15
Sunny leaves from any bough.
3.
Lilies for a bridal bed —
Roses for a matron’s head —
Violets for a maiden dead —
Pansies let MY flowers be: 20
On the living grave I bear
Scatter them without a tear —
Let no friend, however dear,
Waste one hope, one fear for me.
TO EDWARD WILLIAMS.
(Published in Ascham’s edition of the “Poems”, 1834.
There is a copy amongst the Trelawny manuscripts.)
1.
The serpent is shut out from Paradise.
The wounded deer must seek the herb no more
In which its heart-cure lies:
The widowed dove must cease to haunt a bower
Like that from which its mate with feigned sighs 5
Fled in the April hour.
I too must seldom seek again
Near happy friends a mitigated pain.
2.
Of hatred I am proud, — with scorn content;
Indifference, that once hurt me, now is grown 10
Itself indifferent;
But, not to speak of love, pity alone
Can break a spirit already more than bent.
The miserable one
Turns the mind’s poison into food, — 15
Its medicine is tears, — its evil good.
3.
Therefore, if now I see you seldomer,
Dear friends, dear FRIEND! know that I only fly
Your looks, because they stir
Griefs that should sleep, and hopes that cannot die: 20
The very comfort that they minister
I scarce can bear, yet I,
So deeply is the arrow gone,
Should quickly perish if it were withdrawn.
4.
When I return to my cold home, you ask 25
Why I am not as I have ever been.
YOU spoil me for the task
Of acting a forced part in life’s dull scene, —
Of wearing on my brow the idle mask
Of author, great or mean, 30
In the world’s carnival. I sought
Peace thus, and but in you I found it not.
5.
Full half an hour, to-day, I tried my lot
With various flowers, and every one still said,
‘She loves me — loves me not.’ 35
And if this meant a vision long since fled —
If it meant fortune, fame, or peace of thought —
If it meant, — but I dread
To speak what you may know too well:
Still there was truth in the sad oracle. 40
6.
The crane o’er seas and forests seeks her home;
No bird so wild but has its quiet nest,
When it no mo
re would roam;
The sleepless billows on the ocean’s breast
Break like a bursting heart, and die in foam, 45
And thus at length find rest:
Doubtless there is a place of peace
Where MY weak heart and all its throbs will cease.
7.
I asked her, yesterday, if she believed
That I had resolution. One who HAD 50
Would ne’er have thus relieved
His heart with words, — but what his judgement bade
Would do, and leave the scorner unrelieved.
These verses are too sad
To send to you, but that I know, 55
Happy yourself, you feel another’s woe.
TO — .
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.)
1.
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair 5
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
2.
I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not 10
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not, —
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar 15
From the sphere of our sorrow?
TO — .
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.
There is a Boscombe manuscript.)
1.
When passion’s trance is overpast,
If tenderness and truth could last,
Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep
Some mortal slumber, dark and deep,
I should not weep, I should not weep! 5
2.
It were enough to feel, to see,
Thy soft eyes gazing tenderly,
And dream the rest — and burn and be
The secret food of fires unseen,
Couldst thou but be as thou hast been, 10
3.
After the slumber of the year
The woodland violets reappear;
All things revive in field or grove,
And sky and sea, but two, which move
And form all others, life and love. 15
A BRIDAL SONG.
(Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.)
1.
The golden gates of Sleep unbar
Where Strength and Beauty, met together,
Kindle their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather!
Night, with all thy stars look down, — 5
Darkness, weep thy holiest dew, —
Never smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true.
Let eyes not see their own delight; —
Haste, swift Hour, and thy flight 10
Oft renew.
2.
Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her!
Holy stars, permit no wrong!
And return to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, — ere it be long! 15
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun!
Come along!
EPITHALAMIUM.
ANOTHER VERSION OF THE PRECEDING.
(Published by Medwin, “Life of Shelley”, 1847.)
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light, 5
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun? 10
Come along!
The golden gates of sleep unbar!
When strength and beauty meet together,
Kindles their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather. 15
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done 20
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper, 25
Dawn, ere it be long.
Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew. 30
BOYS AND GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME.
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870, from the Trelawny manuscript of Edward Williams’s play, “The Promise: or, A Year, a Month, and a Day”.)
BOYS SING:
Night! with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness! weep thy holiest dew!
Never smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true.
Haste, coy hour! and quench all light, 5
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Haste, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew!
GIRLS SING:
Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her!
Holy stars! permit no wrong! 10
And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long!
O joy! O fear! there is not one
Of us can guess what may be done
In the absence of the sun: — 15
Come along!
BOYS:
Oh! linger long, thou envious eastern lamp
In the damp
Caves of the deep!
Nay, return, Vesper! urge thy lazy car! 20
Swift unbar
The gates of Sleep!
CHORUS:
The golden gate of Sleep unbar,
When Strength and Beauty, met together,
Kindle their image, like a star 25
In a sea of glassy weather.
May the purple mist of love
Round them rise, and with them move,
Nourishing each tender gem
Which, like flowers, will burst from them. 30
As the fruit is to the tree
May their children ever be!
LOVE, HOPE, DESIRE, AND FEAR.
(Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862. ‘A very free translation of Brunetto Latini’s “Tesoretto”, lines 81-154.’ — A.C. Bradley.)
…
And many there were hurt by that strong boy,
His name, they said, was Pleasure,
And near him stood, glorious beyond measure
Four Ladies who possess all empery
In earth and air and sea, 5
Nothing that lives from their award is free.
Their names will I declare to thee,
Love, Hope, Desire, and Fear,
And they the regents are
Of the four elements that frame the heart, 10
And each diversely exercised her art
By force or circumstance or sleight
To prove her dreadful might
Upon that poor domain.
Desire presented her (false) glass, and then 15
The spirit dwelling there
Was spellbound to embrace what seemed so fair
Within that magic mirror,
And dazed by that bright error,
It would have scorned the (shafts) of the
avenger 20
And death, and penitence, and danger,
Had not then silent Fear
Touched with her palsying spear,
So that as if a frozen torrent
The blood was curdled in its current; 25
It dared not speak, even in look or motion,
But chained within itself its proud devotion.
Between Desire and Fear thou wert
A wretched thing, poor heart!
Sad was his life who bore thee in his breast, 30
Wild bird for that weak nest.
Till Love even from fierce Desire it bought,
And from the very wound of tender thought
Drew solace, and the pity of sweet eyes
Gave strength to bear those gentle agonies, 35
Surmount the loss, the terror, and the sorrow.
Then Hope approached, she who can borrow
For poor to-day, from rich tomorrow,
And Fear withdrew, as night when day
Descends upon the orient ray, 40
And after long and vain endurance
The poor heart woke to her assurance.
— At one birth these four were born
With the world’s forgotten morn,
And from Pleasure still they hold 45
All it circles, as of old.
When, as summer lures the swallow,
Pleasure lures the heart to follow —
O weak heart of little wit!
The fair hand that wounded it, 50
Seeking, like a panting hare,
Refuge in the lynx’s lair,
Love, Desire, Hope, and Fear,
Ever will be near.
FRAGMENTS WRITTEN FOR HELLAS.
(Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.)
1.
Fairest of the Destinies,
Disarray thy dazzling eyes:
Keener far thy lightnings are
Than the winged (bolts) thou bearest,
And the smile thou wearest 5
Wraps thee as a star
Is wrapped in light.
2.
Could Arethuse to her forsaken urn
From Alpheus and the bitter Doris run,
Or could the morning shafts of purest light 10
Again into the quivers of the Sun
Be gathered — could one thought from its wild flight
Return into the temple of the brain
Without a change, without a stain, —
Could aught that is, ever again 15
Be what it once has ceased to be,
Greece might again be free!
3.
A star has fallen upon the earth
Mid the benighted nations,
A quenchless atom of immortal light, 20
A living spark of Night,