« AnteriorContinuar »
From her couch of snows
Which slopes to the western gleams:
In murmurs as soft as sleep;
The Earth seemed to love her, And Heaven smiled above her, As she lingered towards the deep.
Then Alpheus bold,
On his glacier cold,
With his trident the mountains strook
And opened a chasm
In the rocks-with the spasm
All Erymanthus shook.
And the black south wind
It concealed behind
The urns of the silent snow,
And earthquake and thunder
The bars of the springs below.
Seen through the torrent's sweep,
"Ob, save me! Oh, guide me!
For he grasps me now by the hair!"
And under the water
The Earth's white daughter
Behind her descended
With the brackish Dorian stream:-
As an eagle pursuing
Down the streams of the cloudy wind.
FROM the forests and highlands
From the river-girt islands,
Where loud waves are dumb
Listening to my sweet pipings. The wind in the reeds and the rushes, The bees on the bells of thyme, The birds on the myrtle bushes,
The cicale above in the lime,
Liquid Peneus was flowing,
The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and
To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
With envy of my sweet pipings.
I sang of the dancing stars,
I sang of the dædal Earth, And of Heaven-and the giant wars, And Love, and Death, and Birth,And then I changed my pipings,
Singing how down the vale of Menalus I pursued a maiden and clasp'd a reed : Gods and men, we are all deluded thus! It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed :
All wept, as I think both ye now would, If envy or age had not frozen your blood, At the sorrow of my sweet pipings. 1820. 1824.
Green cowbind and the moonlight
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge, There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white,
And starry river buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like
Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand,-and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had
That I might there present it!--oh! to whom? 1820. 1822.
RARELY, rarely, comest thou,
Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day 'Tis since thou art fled away.
How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again? With the joyous and the free Thou wilt scoff at pain. Spirit false thou hast forgot All but those who need thee not.
As a lizard with the shade
Of a trembling leaf,
Thou with sorrow art dismayed;
Even the sighs of grief
Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear.
Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure,
Thou wilt never come for pity,
Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
I love all that thou lovest,
The fresh Earth in new leaves drest,
I love snow, and all the forms
I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Which is Nature's, and may be
I love tranquil solitude,
And such society
As is quiet, wise, and good;
What difference? but thou dost possess
I love Love-though he has wings,
Thou art love and life! Oh come,
TO THE MOON
ART thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy? 1820. 1824.
1 Though included by Mrs. Shelley, and by later editors, among the poems of 1821, there is a copy of this poem in the Harvard College Manuscripts, dated in Shelley's handwriting," Pisa, May, 1820." See note in Edward Dowden's Edition of Shelley.
Seraph of Heaven! too gentle to be human,
Veiling beneath that radiant form of Woman
All that is insupportable in thee
Of light, and love, and immortality! Sweet Benediction in the eternal Čurse! Veiled Glory of this lampless Universe! Thou Moon beyond the clouds! Thou living Form
Among the Dead! Thou Star above the Storm!
Thou Wonder, and thou Beauty, and thou Terror!
Thou Harmony of Nature's art! Thou Mirror
In whom, as in the splendor of the Sun, All shapes look glorious which thou gazest on!
Ay, even the dim words which obscure
not in the moving Heavens, alone?
A smile amid dark frowns? a gentle tone
Amid rude voices? a beloved light?
A Lute which those whom Love has taught to play
Make music on, to soothe the roughest day
And lull fond grief asleep? a buried treasure?
A cradle of young thoughts of wingless pleasure;
A violet-shrouded grave of Woe?-I
Scarce visible from extreme loveliness. Warm fragrance seems to fall from her light dress
And her loose hair; and where some heavy tress
The air of her own speed has disentwined, The sweetness seems to satiate the faint wind;
And in the soul a wild odor is felt, Beyond the sense, like fiery dews that melt
Into the bosom of a frozen bud.— See where she stands! a mortal shape indued
With love and life and light and deity, And motion which may change but cannot die;
An image of some bright Eternity;
Leaving the third sphere pilotless; a tender
Reflection of the eternal Moon of Love Under whose motions life's dull billows move;
A Metaphor of Spring and Youth and Morning;
A Vision like incarnate April, warning, With smiles and tears, Frost the Anatomy
Into his summer grave.
Ah, woe is me! What have I dared? where am I lifted ? how
Shall I descend, and perish not? I know That Love makes all things equal: I have heard
By mine own heart this joyous truth averred:
The spirit of the worm beneath the sod In love and worship, blends itself with God.
Spouse! Sister! Angel! Pilot of the Fate
Whose course has been so starless! Oh, too late
Beloved! Oh, too soon adored, by me! For in the fields of immortality
My spirit should at first have worshipped thine,
A divine presence in a place divine; Or should have moved beside it on this earth,
A shadow of that substance, from its birth;
But not as now :-I love thee; yes, I feel That on the fountain of my heart a seal