Class _ Book „ POEMS OF SHELLEY POEMS OF SHELLEY ■l AN ANTHOLOGY IN COMMEMORATION OF THE POET'S DEATH THE 8th JULY 1822 RICHARD COBDEN-SANDERSON 17 THAVIES INN 1922 •3 ^ 6^ 1 cWiU PREFATORY NOTE THIS ANTHOLOGY, in commemoration of the death of SHELLEY, is arranged in FIVE PARTS. In PART I (LOVE AND LIFE) are developed in rhythmic sequence the emotions of Dejection, Love, Longing, Despair, and Death. In PART II (ALAS- TOR), PART I is resumed in the life of a poet, a dream of youth, and is closed again in Death. In PART III (ADONAIS), the Painted Veil, which men miscall Life, is lifted and everywhere Life is seen to be immortal. In PART IV (THE EVER- LASTING UNIVERSE) the Poet, ' holding an unremitting intercourse with the everlasting universe of things — now dark, now glittering, now reflecting gloom, now lending splendour — renders and receives fast influencings ' ; and at one time interprets Nature in terms of himself, his human mind, and at another himself in terms of Nature ; and in all her music, ' from the moan of thunder to the song of night's sweet bird,' his voice is heard. In PART V (MAN EMANCIPATE) the Poet, insurgent, achieves for mankind the great vision, the Vision Sublime of MAN EMANCIPATE, in which The Painted Veil, by those who were called Life, Which mimicked, as with colours idly spread, All men believed or hoped, is torn aside. The loathsome mask has fallen, the MAN remains ; Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but MAN ; Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless, 10 Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king Over himself, just, gentle, wise, but MAN. PASSIONLESS ? no, yet free from guilt or pain Which were, for his will made or suffered them ; Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves, From chance, and death, and mutability, The clogs of that which else might over soar The loftiest star of unascended heaven, Pinnacled dim in the intense inane. II This Arrangement might suffice as an Anthology of the essential Poems, ' folded in their own eternity ' ; but as the Editor would at the same time present a self-drawn image of the Poet, insatiate and aspiring, ' insatiate till to love and live be one, one immortality, one annihilation,' he has prefixed to the Poems, as PROLOGUE, THE HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY, and as EPILOGUE has built out beyond them, as it were into the infinite, EPIPSYCHIDION, in which ' the height of Love's rare Universe ' approached the Poet's imagination reels and the Poet imagines himself to expire in an ecstasy of bliss. L'Anima amante si slancia fuori del creato, e si crea nel infinito un Mondo tutto per essa. II Ill The Poet was born at Field Place in Sussex on the 14th of August 1792 : and from Leghorn on the 8th of July 1822 'put out to sea.' Wrecked, the Poet's body was burnt, in the presence of Lord Byron, Trelawny, and Leigh Hunt, on the shore of the Mediterranean near to Via Reggio. Taken thence to Rome, in that ' high Capital of kingly Death ' the ashes, the grey ashes of the Poet, lie buried. But he is gathered to the kings of thought Who waged contention with their time's decay And of the past are all that cannot pass away. T. J. COBDEN-SANDERSON 12 TABLE OF CONTENTS Page PREFATORY NOTE 10 PROEM : On a poet's lips I slept ... 22 PROLOGUE: HYMN TO INTELLEC- TUAL BEAUTY The awful shadow of some unseen power 24 POEMS PART I: LOVE AND DEATH First our pleasures die — and then . . 31 i. STANZAS The sun is warm, the sky is clear . 32 ii. TIME Unfathomable Sea .... 34 iii. THE WORLD'S WANDERERS Tell me, thou star, whose wings of light 35 , iv. TO THE MOON Art thou pale for weariness . . 36 v. A DIRGE Rough wind, that moanest loud . . 37 vi. THE SEASONS (The Revolt of Islam) The blasts of Autumn drive the winged seeds . ..... 38 vii. AUTUMN The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing ..... 39 PART I : LOVE AND DEATH (continued) Page viii. DIRGE FOR THE YEAR Orphan Hours, the Year is dead . 40 ix. SPRING (Prince Athanase) 'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings . . . . .41 x. LOVE (Prince Athanase) Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all 42 xi. LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY The fountains mingle with the river . 43 xii. TO NIGHT Swiftly walk over the western wave . 44 xiii. A BRIDAL SONG The golden gates of sleep unbar . . 46 xiv. A LAMENT Swifter far than summer's flight . 47 xv. A SERENADE I arise from dreams of thee . . 48 xvi. FROM THE ARABIC My faint spirit was sitting in the light 49 xvii. TO JANE One word is too often profaned . . 50 xviii. TO THE SAME When passion's trance is overpast . 51 xix. THE GIFT Ariel to Miranda. — Take . . 52 PART I: LOVE AND DEATH (continued) Page xx. THE INVITATION Best and brightest, come away . xxi. THE RECOLLECTION Now the last of many days xxii. LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY OF LERICI She left me at the silent time xxiii. SONG Rarely, rarely, comest thou xxiv. A LAMENT world ! O life ! O time ! xxv. LINES When the lamp is shattered xxvi. MUTABILITY The flower that smiles to-day xxvii. THE QUESTION 1 dreamed that, as I wandered by the way . . . . 70 xxviii. THE PAST Wilt thou forget the happy hours . 72 xxix. TIME LONG PAST Like the ghost of a dear friend dead . 73 xxx. DEATH That time is dead for ever, child . 74 xxxi. THE DEAD They die — the dead return not. Misery 75 16 PART I : LOVE AND DEATH (continued) Page xxxii. A SUMMER EVENING The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere ..... 76 PART II: ALASTOR Nondum amabam, et amare amabam, quaerebam quid amarem, amans amare . . ... 79 Earth, Ocean, Air, beloved brotherhood 80 PART III: ADONAIS 'Ao-rrjp irpiv (lev iXajATres £vi tfliouriv ewo?, 105 I weep for Adonais — he is dead . .106 PART IV: THE EVERLASTING UNIVERSE . Listen, listen, Mary mine . . .126 i. 1. HYMN OF APOLLO The sleepless hours who watch me as I He . . . . . . 127 2. HYMN OF PAN From the forests and highlands . .129 3. ARETHUSA Arethusa arose . . . 131 4. THE CLOUD I bring fresh showers for the thirst- ing flowers . . . . 135 5. SONG OF PROSERPINE Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth . 139 b 17 PART IV: THE EVERLASTING UNIVERSE (continued) ii. i. ECHOES (Prometheus) Page Echoes we : listen . . .140 2. CHORUS OF SPIRITS (Prometheus) The path thro' which that lovely twain ..... 142 3. SONG OF SPIRITS (Prometheus) To the deep, to the deep . 145 4. SPIRIT (Prometheus) My coursers are fed with the lightning . . . . . 147 5. VOICE IN THE AIR (Prometheus) Life of Life ! thy lips enkindle . 148 6. ASIA (Prometheus) My soul is an enchanted Boat. . 149 iii. 1. MONT BLANC The everlasting universe of things . 150 2. THE EUGANEAN HILLS Many a green isle needs must be . 156 3. TO A SKYLARK Hail to thee, blithe spirit . .163 4. ODE TO THE WEST WIND O wild west wind, thou breath of Autumn's being .... 18 PART V: MAN EMANCIPATE Page To suffer woes which hope thinks infinite 1 72 i. 1. TO MARY SHELLEY (The Revolt of Islam) So now my summer task is ended, Mary. . . . 173 2. THE SNAKE AND THE EAGLE When the last hope of trampled France had failed . . . .178 ii. 1. CHORUS (Hellas) Worlds on worlds are rolling ever . 184 2. ODE TO LIBERTY A glorious people vibrated again . 186 3. LIBERTY The fiery mountains answer each other ..... 198 4. CHORUS (Hellas) The world's great age begins anew . 199 iii. 1. SPIRITS OF EARTH AND AIR (Prometheus) The pale stars are gone. . . 201 2. FORMS AND SHADOWS OF DEAD HOURS (Prometheus) Here, Oh here .... 202 3. SPIRITS OF EARTH AND AIR (Prometheus) Bright clouds float in Heaven . . 203 l 9 PART V : MAN EMANCIPATE (continued) Page 4. SEMICHORUS OF HOURS (Prome- theus) The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth ...... 204 5. CHORUS OF HOURS AND SPIRITS OF MIGHT AND PLEASURE (Prometheus) Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze ...... 205 6. THE EARTH AND THE MOON (Prometheus) The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness . . . . .211 iv. DEMOGORGON (Prometheus) Thou, Earth, calm empire of a happy soul ...... 216 EPILOGUE : EPIPSYCHIDION My Song, I fear that thou wilt find but few ..... 222 EPIPSYCHIDION Sweet Spirit. .... 223 Weak verses, go, kneel at your Sovereign's feet ..... 245 ENVOI : Music when soft voices die . 248 TABLE OF YEARS . . . . 250 20 PROEM ON a poet's lips I slept Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept ; Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses. He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see, what things they be ; But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality ! 22 PROLOGUE PRO- THE awful shadow of some unseen Power LOGUE Floats, though unseen, amongst us, visiting This various world with as inconstant wing As summer winds that creep from flower to flower ; Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance ; Like hues and harmonies of evening, Like clouds in starlight widely spread, Like memory of music fled, Like aught that for its grace may be Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery. II Spirit of Beauty, that dost consecrate With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form, where art thou gone ? Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate ? Ask why the sunlight not for ever Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain river ; Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown ; Why fear and dream and death and birth Cast on the daylight of this earth Such gloom ; why man has such a scope For love and hate, despondency and hope. 24 Ill No voice from some sublimer world hath ever PRO- To sage or poet these responses given : LOGUE Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven, Remain the records of their vain endeavour ; Frail spells, whose uttered charm might not avail to sever, From all we hear and all we see, Doubt, chance, and mutability. Thy light alone, like mists o'er mountains driven, Or music by the night wind sent Through strings of some still instrument, Or moonlight on a midnight stream, Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream. IV Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds, depart And come, for some uncertain moments lent. Man were immortal, and omnipotent, Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart. Thou messenger of sympathies, That wax and wane in lover's eyes ; Thou, that to human thought art nourishment, Like darkness to a dying flame ! Depart not as thy shadow came : Depart not — lest the grave should be, Like life and fear, a dark reality. 25 PRO- While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped LOGUE Thro' many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed; I was not heard, I saw them not : When, musing deeply on the lot Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring News of birds and blossoming, Sudden, thy shadow fell on me ; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy ! VI I vowed that I would dedicate my powers To thee and thine : have I not kept the vow ? With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now I call the phantoms of a thousand Hours Each from his voiceless grave : they have in visioned bowers Of studious zeal or love's delight Outwatched with me the envious night : They know that never joy illumed my brow Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free This world from its dark slavery, That thou — O awful Loveliness, Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express. 26 VII The day becomes more solemn and serene PRO- When noon is past : there is a harmony LOGUE In Autumn, and a lustre in its sky, Which through the Summer is not heard or seen, As if it could not be, as if it had not been ! Thus let thy power, which like the truth Of Nature on my passive youth Descended, to my onward life supply Its calm, to one who worships thee, And every form containing thee, Whom, Spirit fair, thy spells did bind To fear himself, and love all human kind. 27 POEMS PART I. LOVE AND DEATH I FIRST our pleasures die — and then Our hopes, and then our fears — and when These are dead, the debt is due, Dust claims dust — and we die too. II All things that we love and cherish, Like ourselves must fade and perish, Such is our rude mortal lot — Love itself would, did they not. 31 PART I THE sun is warm, the sky is clear, i The waves are dancing fast and bright ; Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent might ; The breath of the moist earth is light, Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft, like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown ; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone ; The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet ! did any heart now share in my emotion. Alas ! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around, Nor that content surpassing wealth The sage in meditation found, And walked with inward glory crowned ; Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround ; Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. 3* Yet now despair itself is mild, PART I Even as the winds and waters are ; i I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; They might lament — for I am one Whom men love not, — and yet regret ; Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. 33 PART I UNFATHOMABLE Sea, whose waves are years ; ii Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears ! Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality ! And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore ; Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Who shall put forth on thee, Unfathomable Sea ? 34 TELL me, thou star, whose wings of light PART I Speed thee in thy fiery flight, 111 In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now ? II Tell me, moon, thou pale and gray Pilgrim of Heaven's homeless way, In what depth of night or day Seekest thou repose now ? Ill Weary wind, who wanderest Like the world's rejected guest, Hast thou still some secret nest On the tree or billow ? 35 PART I ART thou pale for weariness iv Of climbing Heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy ? 36 ROUGH wind, that moanest loud PART I Grief too sad for song ; v Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long ; Sad storm, whose tears are vain, Bare woods, whose branches strain, Deep caves and dreary main, Wail, for the world's wrong ! 37 PART I THE blasts of Autumn drive trie winged seeds vi Over the earth ; next come the snows, and rain, And frosts, and storms, which dreary Winter leads Out of his Scythian cave, a savage train ; Behold ! Spring sweeps over the world again, Shedding soft dews from her ethereal wings ; Flowers on the mountains, fruits over the plain, And music on the waves and woods she flings, And love on all that lives, and calm on lifeless things. 38 rHE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, PART I rhe bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, vii And the year 3n the earth her deathbed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying ; Come, Months, come away, From November to May, In your saddest array ; Follow the bier Of the dead cold Year, \nd like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre. II rhe chill rain is falling, the nipt worm is crawling, rhe rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling For the Year ; rhe blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone To his dwelling ; y Come, Months, come away ; Put on white, black, and gray ; Let your light sisters play : Ye, follow the bier Of the dead cold Year, And make her grave green with tear on tear. 39 I PART I ORPHAN Hours, the Year is dead : viii Come and sigh, come and weep ! Merry Hours, smile instead, For the Year is but asleep. See, it smiles as it is sleeping, Mocking your untimely weeping. II As an earthquake rocks a corse In its coffin in the clay, So white Winter, that rough nurse, Rocks the death-cold Year to-day ; Solemn Hours ! wail aloud For your mother in her shroud. Ill As the wild air stirs and sways The tree-swung cradle of a child, So the breath of these rude days Rocks the Year : be calm and mild, Trembling Hours, she will arise With new love within her eyes. IV January gray is here, Like a sexton by her grave ; February bears the bier, March with grief doth howl and rave, And April weeps — but, O ye Hours, Follow with May's fairest flowers. 40 'TWAS at the season when the Earth upsprings PART I From slumber ; as a sphered angel's child, ix Shadowing its eyes with green and golden wings, Stands up before its mother bright and mild, Of whose soft voice the air expectant seems, So stood before the Sun, which shone and smiled To see it rise thus joyous from its dreams, The fresh and radiant Earth. The hoary grove Waxed green, and flowers burst forth like starry beams ; The grass in the warm sun did start and move, And sea-buds burst beneath the waves serene : How many a one, though none be near to love, Loves then the shade of his own soul, half seen In any mirror, or the Spring's young minions, The winged leaves amid the copses green ; How many a spirit then puts on the pinions Of fancy, and outstrips the lagging blast, And his own steps, and over wide dominions Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast, More fleet than storms — the wide world shrinks below, When Winter and despondency are past. 41 PART I THOU art the wine whose drunkenness is all x We can desire, O Love ! and happy souls, Ere from thy vine the leaves of Autumn fall, Catch thee, and feed from their o'er-fl owing bowls Thousands who thirst for thy ambrosial dew ; Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls Investeth it ; and when the heavens are blue Thou fillest them ; and when the earth is fair The shadow of thy moving wings imbue Its deserts and its mountains, till they wear Beauty like some bright robe : thou ever soarest Among the towers of men, and as soft air In Spring, which moves the unawakened forest, Clothing with leaves its branches bare and bleak, Thou floatest among men ; and aye implorest That which from thee they should implore : the weak Alone kneel to thee, offering up the hearts The strong have broken : yet where shall any seek A garment whom thou clothest not ? 42 I THE fountains mingle with the river, PART I And the rivers with the ocean, xi The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion ; Nothing in the world is single ; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle ; Why not I with thine ? II See the mountains kiss high Heaven, And the waves clasp one another ; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother ; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea : What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me ? 43 PART I SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, xii Spirit of Night ! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, Swift be thy flight ! II Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Star-inwrought ! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day, Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand — Come, long sought ! Ill When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee ; When light rode high, and the dew was gene And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee. 44 IV Thy brother Death came, and cried, PART I Wouldst thou me ? xii Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy- eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side ? Wouldst thou me ? — And I replied, No, not thee ! Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon : Sleep will come when thou art fled : Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved Night, Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon ! 45 PART I THE golden gates of sleep unbar xiii 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, 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 Oft renew. II Fairies, sprites, and angels keep her ! Holy stars, permit no wrong ! And return to wake the sleeper, Dawn, ere it be long ! O joy ! O fear ! what will be done In the absence of the sun ! Come along ! 4 6 SWIFTER far than summer's flight, PART I Swifter far than youth's delight, xiv Swifter far than happy night, Art thou come and gone : As the wood when leaves are shed, As the night when sleep is fled, As the heart when joy is dead, I am left lone, alone. II The swallow summer comes again, The owlet night resumes her reign, 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 Sunny leaves from any bough. Ill Lilies for a bridal bed, Roses for a matron's head, Violets for a maiden dead, Pansies let my flowers be ; On the living grave I bear Scatter them without a tear : Let no friend, however dear, Waste one hope, one fear for me. 47 I PART I I ARISE from dreams of thee xv In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright : I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how ? To thy chamber window, sweet ! II The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream ; And the Champ ak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream ; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart, As I must on thine, Oh beloved as thou art ! Ill Oh lift me from the grass ! I die ! I faint ! I fail ! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas ! My heart beats loud and fast, Oh press it close to thine again, Where it will break at last. 4 8 MY faint spirit was sitting in the light PART I Of thy looks, my love ; xvi It panted for thee like the hind at noon For the brooks, my love. Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight Bore thee far from me ; My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, Did companion thee. II Ah ! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, Or the death they bear, The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care ; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Shall mine cling to thee, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, It may bring to thee. 49 I PART I ONE word is too often profaned xvii For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. II I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not 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 From the sphere of our sorrow ? 50 I WHEN passion's trance is overpast, PART I If tenderness and truth could last xviii Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep Some mortal slumber, dark and deep, I should not weep, I should not weep ! II 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. Ill 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. 5' PART I ARIEL to Miranda.— Take xix 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, 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, Poor Ariel sends this silent token Of love that never can be spoken ; Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who, From life to lif e, must still pursue Your happiness ; for thus alone Can Ariel ever find his own. From Prospero's inchanted cell, As the mighty verses tell, To the throne of Naples, he Lit you o'er the trackless sea, 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 Ariel guides you o'er the sea 5* Of life from your nativity. PART I Many changes have been run, xix Since Ferdinand and you begun Your course of love, and Ariel still Has tracked your steps and served your will ; Now, in humbler, happier lot, This is all remembered not ; And now, alas ! the poor sprite is Imprisoned for some fault of his, In a body like a grave ; From you he only dares to crave, For his service and his sorrow, A smile to-day, a song to-morrow. ^f The artist who this idol wrought, To echo all harmonious thought, Felled a tree, while on the steep The woods were in their winter sleep, Rocked in that repose divine On the wind-swept Apennine ; And dreaming, some of Autumn past, And some of Spring approaching fast, And some of April buds and showers, And some of songs in July bowers, And all of love ; and so this tree, Oh that such our death may be ! Died in sleep, and felt no pain, To live in happier form again : From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star, S3 PART I The artist wrought this loved Guitar, xix And taught it justly to reply, To all who question skilfully, In language gentle as thine own ; Whispering in enamoured tone Sweet oracles of woods and dells, And summer winds in sylvan cells ; For it had learnt all harmonies Of the plains and of the skies, Of the forests and the mountains, And the many- voiced fountains ; The clearest echoes of the hills, The softest notes of falling rills, The melodies of birds and bees, The murmuring of summer seas, And pattering rain, and breathing dew, And airs of evening ; and it knew That seldom-heard mysterious sound, Which, driven on its diurnal round, As it floats through boundless day, Our world enkindles on its way — All this it knows, but will not tell To those who cannot question well The spirit that inhabits it ; It talks according to the wit Of its companions ; and no more Is heard than has been felt before, By those who tempt it to betray These secrets of an elder day : 54 But sweetly as its answers will PART I Flatter hands of perfect skill, xix It keeps its highest, holiest tone For our beloved Jane alone. 55 PART I BEST and brightest, come away ! xx 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 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 ; 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, 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. ^f 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 An echo in another's mind, While the touch of Nature's art Harmonises heart to heart. Tf Radiant Sister of the Day, 56 Awake ! arise ! and come away ! PART I To the wild woods and the plains, xx And the pools where winter rains 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, 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, 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 Billows murmur at our feet, Where the earth and ocean meet, And all things seem only one In the universal sun. 57 I PART I NOW the last day of many days, xxi 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 The epitaph of glory fled : For now the earth has changed its face, A frown is on the Heaven's brow. II 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, The clouds were gone to play, And on the bosom of the deep 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. Ill 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, 58 That under Heaven is blown, PART I To harmonies and hues beneath, xxi As tender as its own ; Now all the tree- tops lay asleep, Like green waves on the sea, As still as in the silent deep The ocean woods may be. IV How calm it was ! — the silence there By such a chain was bound That even the busy woodpecker 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. 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, 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, Was one fair form that filled with love The lifeless atmosphere. 59 PART I We paused beside the pools that lie xxi Under the forest bough, Each seemed as 'twere a little sky Gulphed 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 : 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, 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, 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, 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 exprest ; Until an envious wind crept by, 60 Like an unwelcome thought, PART I Which from the mind's too faithful eye xxi Blots one dear image out. Though thou art ever fair and kind, The forests ever green, Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind, Than calm in waters seen. 61 PART I SHE left me at the silent time xxii When the moon had ceased to climb The azure path of Heaven's steep, And, like an albatross asleep, Balanced on her wings of light, Hovered in the purple night, Ere she sought her ocean nest In the chambers of the West. She left me, and I stayed alone Thinking over every tone Which, though silent to the ear, The enchanted heart could hear, Like notes which die when born, but still Haunt the echoes of the hill ; And feeling ever — oh, too much ! The soft vibration of her touch, As if her gentle hand, even now, Lightly trembled on my brow ; And thus, although she absent were, Memory gave me all of her That even Fancy dares to claim : Her presence had made weak and tame All passions, and I lived alone In the time which is our own ; The past and future were forgot, As they had been, and would be, not. But soon, the guardian angel gone, The daemon reassumed his throne In my faint heart. I dare not speak 62 My thoughts ; but thus disturbed and weak PART I I sat and saw the vessels glide xxii Over the ocean bright and wide, Like spirit-winged chariots sent O'er some serenest element For ministrations strange and far ; As if to some Elysian star They sailed for drink to medicine Such sweet and bitter pain as mine. And the wind that winged their flight From the land came fresh and light, And the scent of winged flowers, And the coolness of the hours Of dew, and sweet warmth left by day, Were scattered o'er the twinkling bay. And the fisher with his lamp And spear about the low rocks damp Crept, and struck the fish which came To worship the delusive flame. Too happy they, whose pleasure sought Extinguishes all sense and thought Of the regret that pleasure leaves, Destroying life alone, not peace ! 63 PART I RARELY, rarely, comest thou, xxiii Spirit of Delight ! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night ? Many a weary night and day 'Tis since thou art fled away. II 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. Ill 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. IV Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure, Thou wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for pleasure ; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. 6 4 I love all that thou lovest, PART I Spirit of Delight ! xxiii The fresh Earth in new leaves drest, And the starry night ; Autumn evening, and the morn When the golden mists are born. VI I love snow, and all the forms Of the radiant frost ; I love waves, and winds, and storms, Every thing almost Which is Nature's and may be Untainted by man's misery. VII I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good ; Between thee and me What difference ? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less. VIII I love Love — though he has wings, And like light can flee ; But above all other things, Spirit, I love thee — Thou art love and life ! Oh come, Make once more my heart thy home. e 65 I PART I O WORLD ! O life ! O time ! xxiv 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 ! II 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 ! 66 WHEN the lamp is shattered PART I The light in the dust lies dead ; xxv When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet notes are remembered not ; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. II As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute : No song but sad dirges, Like the wind in a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges That ring the dead seaman's knell. Ill When hearts have once mingled Love first leaves the well-built nest ; The weak one is singled To endure what it once possest. O Love ! who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home, and your bier ? 6 7 IV PART I Its passions will rock thee xxv 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 Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come. 68 I THE flower that smiles to-day PART I To-morrow dies : xxvi All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies ; What is this world's delight ? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright. II Virtue, how frail it is ! Friendship how rare ! Love, how it sells poor bliss For proud despair ! But we, though soon they fall, Survive their joy and all Which ours we call. Ill Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day ; Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou — and from thy sleep Then wake to weep. 6 9 I PART I I DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way, xxvii Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. II There grew pied wind-flowers and violets ; Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets ; Faint oxlips ; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved ; and that tall flower that wets- Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth — Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. Ill And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured May, And ch erry 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. 70 IV And nearer to the river's trembling edge PART I There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with xxvii 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 green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours Within my hand ; and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it — Oh ! to whom ? 71 PART I WILT thou forget the happy hours xxviii Which we buried in Love's sweet bowers, Heaping over their corpses cold Blossoms and leaves instead of mould ? Blossoms which were the joys that fell, And leaver the hopes that yet remain. II Forget the dead, the past ? Oh yet There are ghosts that may take revenge for it, Memories that make the heart a tomb, Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom, And with ghastly whispers tell That joy, once lost, is pain. 72 I LIKE the ghost of a dear friend dead PART I Is Time long past. xxix A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last, Was Time long past. II There were sweet dreams in the night Of Time long past : And, was it sadness or delight, Each day a shadow onward cast Which made us wish it yet might last, That Time long past. Ill There is regret, almost remorse, For Time long past. 'Tis like a child's beloved corse A father watches, till at last Beauty is like remembrance, cast From Time long past. 73 I PART I THAT time is dead for ever, child, xxx Drowned, frozen, dead for ever ! We look on the past And stare aghast At the spectres wailing, pale and ghast, Of hopes which thou and I beguiled To death on life's dark river. II The stream we gazed on then, rolled by ; Its waves are unreturning ; But we yet stand In a lone land, Like tombs to mark the memory Of hopes and fears, which fade and flee In the light of life's dim morning. 74 I THEY die— the dead return not. Misery PART I Sits near an open grave and calls them over, xx *i A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye. They are the names of kindred, friend, and lover, Which he so feebly calls : they all are gone ! Fond wretch, all dead ! Those vacant names alone, This most familiar scene, my pain, These tombs, alone remain. II Misery, my sweetest friend — oh, weep no more ! Thou wilt not be consoled : I wonder not ! For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot Was even as bright and calm, but transitory ; And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary ; This most familiar scene, my pain, These tombs, alone remain. 75 PART I THE wind has swept from the wide atmosphere xxxii Each vapour that obscured the sunset's ray ; And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day : Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen. They breathe their spells towards the departing day, Encompassing the earth, air, stars, and sea ; Light, sound, and motion own the potent sway, Responding to the charm with its own mystery. The winds are still, or the dry church-tower grass Knows not their gentle motions as they pass. Thou too, aerial Pile ! whose pinnacles Point from one shrine like pyramids of fire, Obeyest in silence their sweet solemn spells, Clothing in hues of Heaven thy dim and distant spire, Around whose lessening and invisible height Gather among the stars the clouds of night. The dead are sleeping in their sepulchres : And, mouldering as they sleep, a thrilling sound, Half sense, half thought, among the darkness stirs, Breathed from their wormy beds all living things around, And mingling with the still night and mute sky Its awful hush is felt inaudibly. 7 6 Thus solemnised and softened, death is mild PART I And terrorless as this serenest night : xxxii Here could I hope, like some inquiring child Sporting on graves, that death did hide from human sight Sweet secrets, or beside its breathless sleep That loveliest dreams perpetual watch did keep. 77 PART II. ALASTOR : OR THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE Nondum amabam, et amare amabam, quaerebam quid amarem, amans amare. PART II EARTH, Ocean, Air, beloved brotherhood ! Alastor If our great Mother has imbued my soul With aught of natural piety to feel Your love, and recompense the boon with mine ; If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and even, With sunset and its gorgeous ministers, And solemn midnight's tingling silentness ; If Autumn's hollow sighs in the sere wood, And Winter robing with pure snow and crowns Of starry ice the grey grass and bare boughs ; If Spring's voluptuous pantings when she breathes Her first sweet kisses have been dear to me ; If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast I consciously have injured, but still loved And cherished these my kindred : then forgive This boast, beloved brethren, and withdraw No portion of your wonted favour now ! II Mother of this unfathomable world ! Favour my solemn song, for I have loved Thee ever, and thee only ; I have watched Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps, And my heart ever gazes on the depth Of thy deep mysteries. I have made my bed In charnels and on coffins, where black death Keeps record of the trophies won from thee, Hoping to still these obstinate questionings Of thee and thine, by forcing some lone ghost, Thy messenger, to render up the tale Of what we are. In lone and silent hours, 80 When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness, PART II Like an inspired and desperate alchymist Alastor Staking his very life on some dark hope, Have I mixed awful talk and asking looks With my most innocent love, until strange tears, Uniting with those breathless kisses, made Such magic as compels the charmed night To render up thy charge : and, though ne'er yet Thou hast unveiled thy inmost sanctuary, Enough from incommunicable dream, And twilight phantasms, and deep noon- day thought, Has shone within me, that serenely now And moveless, as a long-forgotten lyre Suspended in the solitary dome Of some mysterious and deserted fane, I wait thy breath, Great Parent, that my strain May modulate with murmurs of the air, And motions of the forests and the sea, And voice of living beings, and woven hymns Of night and day, and the deep heart of man. THERE was a Poet whose untimely tomb No human hands with pious reverence reared, But the charmed eddies of autumnal winds Built o'er his mouldering bones a pyramid Of mouldering leaves in the waste wilderness : A lovely youth, — no mourning maiden decked With weeping flowers, or votive cypress wreath, The lone couch of his everlasting sleep : f 81 PART II Gentle, and brave, and generous, — no lorn bard Alastor Breathed o'er his dark fate one melodious sigh : He lived, he died, he sang, in solitude. Strangers have wept to hear his passionate notes, And virgins, as unknown he passed, have pined And wasted for fond love of his wild eyes. The fire of those soft orbs has ceased to burn, And Silence, too enamoured of that voice, Locks its mute music in her rugged cell. 1T By solemn vision, and bright silver dream, His infancy was nurtured. Every sight And sound from the vast earth and ambient air Sent to his heart its choicest impulses. The fountains of divine philosophy Fled not his thirsting lips ; and all of great, Or good, or lovely, which the sacred past In truth or fable consecrates, he felt And knew. When early youth had passed, he left His cold fireside and alienated home To seek strange truths in undiscovered lands. Many a wide waste and tangled wilderness Has lured his fearless steps ; and he has bought With his sweet voice and eyes, from savage men, His rest and food. Nature's most secret steps He, like her shadow, has pursued where'er The red volcano overcanopies Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice With burning smoke ; or where bitumen lakes 82 On black bare pointed islets ever beat PART II With sluggish surge ; or where the secret caves, Alastor Rugged and dark, winding among the springs Of fire and poison, inaccessible To avarice or pride, their starry domes Of diamond and of gold expand above Numberless and immeasurable halls, Frequent with crystal column, and clear shrines Of pearl, and stones radiant with chrysolite. Nor had that scene of ampler majesty Than gems of gold, the varying roof of heaven And the green earth, lost in his heart its claims To love and wonder ; he would linger long In lonesome vales, making the wild his home, Until the doves and squirrels would partake From his innocuous hand his bloodless food, Lured by the gentle meaning of his looks, And the wild antelope, that starts whene'er The dry leaf rustles in the brake, suspend Her timid steps to gaze upon a form More graceful than her own. fl His wandering step, Obedient to high thoughts, has visited The awful ruins of the days of old : Athens, and Tyre, and Balbec, and the waste Where stood Jerusalem, the fallen towers Of Babylon, the eternal pyramids, Memphis and Thebes, and whatsoe'er of strange Sculptured on alabaster obelisk, Or jasper tomb, or mutilated sphynx, 8 3 PART II Dark Ethiopia in her desert hills Alastor Conceals. Among the ruined temples there, Stupendous columns, and wild images Of more than man, where marble demons watch The Zodiac's brazen mystery, and dead men Hang their mute thoughts on the mute walls around, He lingered, poring on memorials Of the world's youth, through the long burning day Gazed on those speechless shapes, nor, when the moon Filled the mysterious halls with floating shades, Suspended he that task, but ever gazed And gazed, till meaning on his vacant mind Flashed like strong inspiration, and he saw The thrilling secrets of the birth of time, fl Meanwhile an Arab maiden brought his food, Her daily portion, from her father's tent, And spread her matting for his couch, and stole From duties and repose to tend his steps : Enamoured, yet not daring for deep awe To speak her love : — and watched his nightly sleep, Sleepless herself, to gaze upon his lips Parted in slumber, whence the regular breath Of innocent dreams arose : then, when red morn Made paler the pale moon, to her cold home Wildered, and wan, and panting, she returned. 1f The Poet wandering on, through Arabie And Persia, and the wild Carmanian waste, And o'er the aerial mountains which pour down Indus and Oxus from their icy caves, 8 4 In joy and exultation held his way ; PART II Till in the vale of Cashmire, far within Alastor Its loneliest dell, where odorous plants entwine Beneath the hollow rocks a natural bower, Beside a sparkling rivulet he stretched His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep There came, a dream of hopes that never yet Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veiled maid Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. Her voice was like the voice of his own soul Heard in the calm of thought ; its music long, Like woven sounds of streams and breezes, held His inmost sense suspended in its web Of many-coloured woof and shifting hues. Knowledge and truth and virtue were her theme, And lofty hopes of divine liberty, Thoughts the most dear to him, and poesy, Himself a poet. Soon the solemn mood Of her pure mind kindled through all her frame A permeating fire : wild numbers then She raised, with voice stifled in tremulous sobs Subdued by its own pathos : her fair hands Were bare alone, sweeping from some strange harp Strange symphony, and in their branching veins The eloquent blood told an ineffable tale. The beating of her heart was heard to fill The pauses of her music, and her breath Tumultuously accorded with those fits Of intermitted song. Sudden she arose, 85 PART II As if her heart impatiently endured Alastor Its bursting burthen : at the sound he turned, And saw by the warm light of their own life Her glowing limbs beneath the sinuous veil Of woven wind, her outspread arms now bare, Her dark locks floating in the breath of night, Her beamy bending eyes, her parted lips Outstretched, and pale, and quivering eagerly. His strong heart sank and sickened with excess Of love. He reared his shuddering limbs and quelled His gasping breath, and spread his arms to meet Her panting bosom : she drew back awhile, Then, yielding to the irresistible joy, With frantic gesture and short breathless cry Folded his frame in her dissolving arms. Now blackness veiled his dizzy eyes, and night Involved and swallowed up the vision ; sleep Like a dark flood suspended in its course, Rolled back its impulse on his vacant brain. 11 Roused by the shock he started from his trance. The cold white light of morning, the blue moon Low in the west, the clear and garish hills, The distinct valley and the vacant woods, Spread round him where he stood. Whither have fled The hues of Heaven that canopied his bower Of yesternight ? The sounds that soothed his sleep, The mystery and the majesty of Earth, The joy, the exultation ? His wan eyes Gaze on the empty scene as vacantly 86 As ocean's moon looks on the moon in Heaven. PART II The spirit of sweet human love has sent Alastor A vision to the sleep of him who spurned Her choicest gifts. He eagerly pursues Beyond the realms of dream that fleeting shade ; He overleaps the bounds. Alas ! alas ! Were limbs, and breath, and being intertwined Thus treacherously ? Lost, lost, for ever lost, In the wide pathless desert of dim sleep, That beautiful shape ! Does the dark gate of death Conduct to thy mysterious paradise, O Sleep ? Does the bright arch of rainbow clouds, And pendent mountains seen in the calm lake, Lead only to a black and watery depth, While death's blue vault, with loathliest vapours hung, Where every shade which the foul grave exhales Hides its dead eye from the detested day, Conduct, O Sleep, to thy delighted realms ? This doubt with sudden tide flowed on his heart ; The insatiate hope which it awakened stung His brain even like despair. 1T While daylight held The sky, the Poet kept mute conference With his still soul. At night the passion came, Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream, And shook him from his rest, and led him forth Into the darkness. As an eagle, grasped In folds of the green serpent, feels her breast Burn with the poison, and precipitates Through night and day, tempest, and calm, and cloud, 87 PART II Frantic with dizzying anguish, her blind flight |Alastor O'er the wide aery wilderness; thus driven By the bright shadow of that lovely dream, Beneath the cold glare of the desolate night, Through tangled swamps and deep precipitous dells, Startling with careless step the moonlight snake, He fled. Red morning dawned upon his flight, Shedding the mockery of its vital hues Upon his cheek of death. He wandered on Till vast Aornos seen from Petra's steep Hung o'er the low horizon like a cloud ; Through Balk, and where the desolated tombs Of Parthian kings scatter to every wind Their wasting dust, wildly he wandered on, Day after day, a weary waste of hours, Bearing within his life the brooding care That ever fed on its decaying flame. And now his limbs were lean ; his scattered hair, Sered by the autumn of strange suffering, Sung dirges in the wind ; his listless hand Hung like dead bone within its withered skin ; Life, and the lustre that consumed it, shone, As in a furnace burning secretly, From his dark eyes alone. The cottagers, Who ministered with human charity His human wants, beheld with wondering awe Their fleeting visitant. The mountaineer, Encountering on some dizzy precipice That spectral form, deemed that the Spirit of Wind, 88 With lightning eyes, and eager breath, and feet PART II Disturbing not the drifted snow, had paused Alastor In its career ; the infant would conceal His troubled visage in his mother's robe In terror at the glare of those wild eyes, To remember their strange light in many a dream Of after-times ; but youthful maidens, taught By nature, would interpret half the woe That wasted him, would call him with false names Brother, and friend, would press his pallid hand At parting, and watch, dim through tears, the path Of his departure from their father's door. 11 At length upon the lone Chorasmian shore He paused, a wide and melancholy waste Of putrid marshes. A strong impulse urged His steps to the sea-shore. A swan was there, Beside a sluggish stream among the reeds. It rose as he approached, and, with strong wings Scaling the upward sky, bent its bright course High over the immeasurable main. His eyes pursued its flight. Thou hast a home, Beautiful bird ; thou voyagest to thine home, Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck With thine, and welcome thy return with eyes Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy. And what am I that I should linger here, With voice far sweeter than thy dying notes, Spirit more vast than thine, frame more attuned To beauty, wasting these surpassing powers 8 9 PART II In the deaf air, to the blind earth, and Heaven Alastor That echoes not my thoughts ? A gloomy smile Of desperate hope wrinkled his quivering lips. For sleep, he knew, kept most relentlessly Its precious charge, and silent death exposed, Faithless perhaps as sleep, a shadowy lure, With doubtful smile mocking its own strange charms. 11 Startled by his own thoughts he looked around. There was no fair fiend near him, not a sight Or sound of awe but in his own deep mind. A little shallop floating near the shore Caught the impatient wandering of his gaze. It had been long abandoned, for its sides Gaped wide with many a rift, and its frail joints Swayed with the undulations of the tide. A restless impulse urged him to embark And meet lone Death on the drear ocean's waste ; For well he knew that mighty Shadow loves The slimy caverns of the populous deep. 1F The day was fair and sunny ; sea and sky Drank its inspiring radiance, and the wind Swept strongly from the shore, blackening the waves. Following his eager soul, the wanderer Leaped in the boat, he spread his cloak aloft On the bare mast, and took his lonely seat, And felt the boat speed o'er the tranquil sea Like a torn cloud before the hurricane. 1T As one that in a silver vision floats Obedient to the sweep of odorous winds 90 Upon resplendent clouds so rapidly PART 11 Along the dark and ruffled waters fled Alastor The straining boat. A whirlwind swept it on, With fierce gusts and precipitating force, Through the white ridges of the chafed sea. The waves arose. Higher and higher still Their fierce necks writhed beneath the Tempest's scourge Like serpents struggling in a vulture's grasp. Calm and rejoicing in the fearful war Of wave ruining on wave, and blast on blast Descending, and black flood on whirlpool driven With dark obliterating course, he sate : As if their genii were the ministers Appointed to conduct him to the light Of those beloved eyes, the Poet sate Holding the steady helm. Evening came on ; The beams of sunset hung their rainbow hues High 'mid the shifting domes of sheeted spray That canopied his path o'er the waste deep ; Twilight, ascending slowly from the east, Entwined in duskier wreaths her braided locks O'er the fair front and radiant eyes of day; Night followed, clad with stars. On every side More horribly the multitudinous streams Of ocean's mountainous waste to mutual war Rushed in dark tumult thundering, as to mock The calm and spangled sky. The little boat Still fled before the storm ; still fled, like foam 9 1 PART II Down the steep cataract of a wintry river ; Alastor Now pausing on the edge of the riven wave ; Now leaving far behind the bursting mass That fell, convulsing ocean : safely fled, As if that frail and wasted human form Had been an elemental god. U At midnight The moon arose : and lo ! the etherial cliffs Of Caucasus, whose icy summits shone Among the stars like sunlight, and around Whose caverned base the whirlpools and the waves, Bursting and eddying irresistibly, Rage and resound for ever. Who shall save ? The boat fled on, the boiling torrent drove, The crags closed round with black and jagged arms, The shattered mountain overhung the sea, And faster still, beyond all human speed, Suspended on the sweep of the smooth wave, The little boat was driven. A cavern there Yawned, and amid its slant and winding depths Ingulphed the rushing sea. The boat fled on With unrelaxing speed. Vision and Love ! The Poet cried aloud, I have beheld The path of thy departure. Sleep and death Shall not divide us long ! 11 The boat pursued The windings of the cavern. Daylight shone At length upon that gloomy river's flow ; Now, where the fiercest war among the waves Is calm, on the unfathomable stream The boat moved slowly. Where the mountain, riven, 92 Exposed those black depths to the azure sky, PART II Ere yet the flood's enormous volume fell Alastor Even to the base of Caucasus, with sound That shook the everlasting rocks, the mass Filled with one whirlpool all that ample chasm ; Stair above stair the eddying waters rose, Circling immeasurably fast, and laved With alternating dash the gnarled roots Of mighty trees, that stretched their giant arms In darkness over it. V the midst was left, Reflecting, yet distorting, every cloud, A pool of treacherous and tremendous calm. Seized by the sway of the ascending stream, With dizzy swiftness, round, and round, and round, Ridge after ridge the straining boat arose, Till on the verge of the extremest curve, Where, through an opening of the rocky bank, The waters overflow, and a smooth spot Of glassy quiet mid those battling tides Is left, the boat paused shuddering. Shall it sink Down the abyss ? Shall the reverting stress Of that resistless gulf embosom it ? Now shall it fall ? A wandering stream of wind, Breathed from the west, has caught the expanded sail, And, lo ! with gentle motion, between banks Of mossy slope, and on a placid stream, Beneath a woven grove it sails, and, hark ! The ghastly torrent mingles its far roar With the breeze murmuring in the musical woods. 93 PART II Where the embowering trees recede, and leave Alastor A little space of green expanse, the cove Is closed by meeting banks, whose yellow flowers For ever gaze on their own drooping eyes, Reflected in the crystal calm. The wave Of the boat's motion marred their pensive task, Which nought but vagrant bird, or wanton wind, Or falling spear-grass, or their own decay Had e'er disturbed before. The Poet longed To deck with their bright hues his withered hair, But on his heart its solitude returned, And he forebore. Not the strong impulse hid In those flushed cheeks, bent eyes, and shadowy frame, Had yet performed its ministry : it hung Upon his life, as lightning in a cloud Gleams, hovering ere it vanish, ere the floods Of night close over it. 11 The noonday sun Now shone upon the forest, one vast mass Of mingling shade, whose brown magnificence A narrow vale embosoms. There, huge caves, Scooped in the dark base of those aery rocks, Mocking its moans respond and roar for ever. The meeting boughs and implicated leaves Wove twilight o'er the Poet's path, as led By love, or dream, or god, or mightier Death, He sought, in Nature's dearest haunt, some bank, Her cradle, and his sepulchre. More dark And dark the shades accumulate. The oak, Expanding its immense and knotty arms, 94 Embraces the light beech. The pyramids PART II Of the tall cedar, overarching, frame Alastor Most solemn domes within, and far below, Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky, The ash and the acacia, floating, hang Tremulous and pale. Like restless serpents, clothed In rainbow and in fire, the parasites, Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around The gray trunks, and, as gamesome infants' eyes, With gentle meanings and most innocent wiles, Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love, These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs, Uniting their close union : the woven leaves Make net-work of the dark blue light of day, And the night's noontide clearness, mutable As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns Beneath these canopies extend their swells, Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms Minute yet beautiful. One darkest glen Sends from its woods of musk-rose, twined with jas- mine, A soul- dissolving odour, to invite To some more lovely mystery. Through the dell, Silence and Twilight here, twin -sisters, keep Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades, Like vaporous shapes half seen ; beyond, a well, Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent wave, Images all the woven boughs above, And each depending leaf, and every speck 95 PART II Of azure sky, darting between their chasms ; Alastor Nor aught else in the liquid mirror laves Its portraiture, but some inconstant star, Between one foliaged lattice twinkling fair, Or painted bird, sleeping beneath the moon, Or gorgeous insect, floating motionless, Unconscious of the day, ere yet his wings Have spread their glories to the gaze of noon. 11 Hither the Poet came. His eyes beheld Their own wan light through the reflected lines Of his thin hair, distinct in the dark depth Of that still fountain ; as the human heart, Gazing in dreams over the gloomy grave, Sees its own treacherous likeness there. He heard The motion of the leaves, the grass that sprung Startled, and glanced and trembled even to feel An unaccustomed presence, and the sound Of the sweet brook that from the secret springs Of that dark fountain rose. A Spirit seemed To stand beside him, clothed in no bright robes Of shadowy silver or enshrining light, Borrowed from aught the visible world affords Of grace, or majesty, or mystery ; But, undulating woods, and silent well, And leaping rivulet, and evening gloom Now deepening the dark shades, for speech assuming, Held commune with him, as if he and it Were all that was : only, when his regard Was raised by intense pensiveness, two eyes, 96 Two starry eyes, hung in the gloom of thought, PART II And seemed with their serene and azure smiles Alastor To beckon him. 11 Obedient to the light That shone within his soul, he went, pursuing The windings of the dell. The rivulet, Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine Beneath the forest flowed. Sometimes it fell Among the moss with hollow harmony, Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones It danced ; like childhood, laughing as it went : Then, through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, Reflecting every herb and drooping bud That overhung its quietness. O stream ! Whose source is inaccessibly profound, Whither do thy mysterious waters tend ? Thou imagest my life. Thy darksome stillness, Thy dazzling waves, thy loud and hollow gulphs, Thy searchless fountain, and invisible course, Have each their type in me ; and the wide sky And measureless ocean may declare as soon What oozy cavern or what wandering cloud Contains thy waters, as the universe Tell where these living thoughts reside, when stretched Upon thy flowers my bloodless limbs shall waste I' the passing wind ! 11 Beside the grassy shore Of the small stream he went ; he did impress On the green moss his tremulous step, that caught Strong shuddering from his burning limbs. As one Roused by some joyous madness from the couch g 97 PART II Of fever, he did move ; yet, not like him Alastor Forgetful of the grave, where, when the flame Of his frail exultation shall be spent, He must descend. With rapid steps he went Beneath the shade of trees, beside the flow Of the wild babbling rivulet ; and now The forest's solemn canopies were changed For the uniform and lightsome evening sky. Grey rocks did peep from the spare moss, and stemmed The struggling brook : tall spires of windlestrae Threw their thin shadows down the rugged slope, And nought but gnarled roots of ancient pines Branchless and blasted, clenched with grasping roots The unwilling soil. A gradual change was here, Yet ghastly. For, as fast years flow away, The smooth brow gathers, and the hair grows thin And white, and where irradiate dewy eyes Had shone, gleam stony orbs : so from his steps Bright flowers departed, and the beautiful shade Of the green groves, with all their odorous winds And musical motions. Calm, he still pursued The stream, that with a larger volume now Rolled through the labyrinthine dell, and there Fretted a path through its descending curves With its wintry speed. On every side now rose Rocks, which, in unimaginable forms, Lifted their black and barren pinnacles In the light of evening, and its precipice, Obscuring the ravine, disclosed above, 9 8 Mid toppling stones, black gulfs and yawning caves, PART II Whose windings gave ten thousand various tongues Alastor To the loud stream. Lo ! where the pass expands Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, And seems, with its accumulated crags, To overhang the world : for wide expand Beneath the wan stars and descending moon Islanded seas, blue mountains, mighty streams, Dim tracts and vast, robed in the lustrous gloom Of leaden-coloured even, and fiery hills, Mingling their flames with twilight, on the verge Of the remote horizon. The near scene, In naked and severe simplicity, Made contrast with the universe. A pine, Rock-rooted, stretched athwart the vacancy Its swinging boughs, to each inconstant blast Yielding one only response, at each pause, In most familiar cadence, with the howl The thunder and the hiss of homeless streams Mingling its solemn song, whilst the broad river, Foaming and hurrying o'er its rugged path, Fell into that immeasurable void, Scattering its waters to the passing winds. 11 Yet the grey precipice and solemn pine And torrent were not all ; one silent nook Was there. Even on the edge of that vast mountain, Upheld by knotty roots and fallen rocks, It overlooked in its serenity The dark earth, and the bending vault of stars. 99 PART^II It was a tranquil spot, that seemed to smile Alastor Even in the lap of horror. Ivy clasped The fissured stones with its entwining arms, And did embower with leaves for ever green, And berries dark, the smooth and even space Of its inviolated floor ; and here The children of the autumnal whirlwind bore, In wanton sport, those bright leaves, whose decay, Red, yellow, or aetherially pale, Rivals the pride of summer. ? Tis the haunt Of every gentle wind, whose breath can teach The wilds to love tranquillity. One step, One human step alone, has ever broken The stillness of its solitude : one voice Alone inspired its echoes ; even that voice Which hither came, floating among the winds, And led the loveliest among human forms To make their wild haunts the depository Of all the grace and beauty that endued Its motions, render up its majesty, Scatter its music on the unfeeling storm, And to the damp leaves and blue cavern mould, Nurses of rainbow flowers and branching moss, Commit the colours of that varying cheek, That snowy breast, those dark and drooping eyes. 11 The dim and horned moon hung low, and poured A sea of lustre on the horizon's verge That overflowed its mountains. Yellow mist Filled the unbounded atmosphere, and drank ioo Wan moonlight even to fulness : not a star PART II Shone, not a sound was heard ; the very winds, Alastor Danger's grim playmates, on that precipice Slept, clasped in his embrace. O storm of death ! Whose sightless speed divides this sullen night : And thou, colossal Skeleton, that, still Guiding its irresistible career In thy devastating omnipotence, Art king of this frail world ; from the red field Of slaughter, from the reeking hospital, The patriot's sacred couch, the snowy bed Of innocence, the scaffold and the throne, A mighty voice invokes thee. Ruin calls His brother Death. A rare and regal prey He hath prepared, prowling around the world, Glutted with which thou mayst repose, and men Go to their graves like flowers or creeping worms, Nor ever more offer at thy dark shrine The unheeded tribute of a broken heart. f When on the threshold of the green recess The wanderer's footsteps fell, he knew that death Was on him. Yet a little, ere it fled, Did he resign his high and holy soul To images of the majestic past, That paused within his passive being now, Like winds that bear sweet music, when they breathe Through some dim latticed chamber. He did place His pale lean hands upon the rugged trunk Of the old pine. Upon an ivied stone IOI PART II Reclined his languid head, his limbs did rest, Alastor Diffused and motionless, on the smooth brink Of that obscurest chasm ; and thus he lay, Surrendering to their final impulses The hovering powers of life. Hope and despair, The torturers, slept ; no mortal pain or fear Marred his repose, the influxes of sense, And his own being unalloyed by pain, Yet feebler and more feeble, calmly fed The stream of thought, till he lay breathing there At peace, and faintly smiling : his last sight Was the great moon, which o'er the western line Of the wide world her mighty horn suspended, With whose dun beams inwoven darkness seemed To mingle. Now upon the jagged hills It rests, and still, as the divided frame Of the vast meteor sunk, the Poet's blood, That ever beat in mystic sympathy With nature's ebb and flow, grew feebler still : And, when two lessening points of light alone Gleamed through the darkness, the alternate gasp Of his faint respiration scarce did stir The stagnate night : till the minutest ray Was quenched, the pulse yet lingered in his heart. It paused, it fluttered. But when Heaven remained Utterly black, the murky shades involved An image, silent, cold, and motionless, As their own voiceless earth and vacant air. Even as a vapour fed with golden beams 102 That ministered on sunlight, ere the west PART II Eclipses it, was now that wondrous frame, Alastor No sense, no motion, no divinity ; A fragile lute, on whose harmonious strings The breath of Heaven did wander, a bright stream Once fed with many-voiced waves, a dream Of youth, which night and time have quenched for ever, Still, dark and dry, and unremembered now. 1F Oh for Medea's wondrous alchemy, Which, wheresoe'er it fell, made the earth gleam With bright flowers, and the wintry boughs exhale From vernal blooms fresh fragrance ! Oh that God, Profuse of poisons, would concede the chalice Which but one living man has drained, who now, Vessel of deathless wrath, a slave that feels No proud exemption in the blighting curse He bears, over the world wanders for ever, Lone as incarnate death ! Oh that the dream Of dark magician in his visioned cave, Raking the cinders of a crucible For life and power, even when his feeble hand Shakes in its last decay, were the true law Of this so lovely world ! But thou art fled Like some frail exhalation which the dawn Robes in its golden beams, ah ! thou hast fled ! The brave, the gentle, and the beautiful, The child of grace and genius. Heartless things Are done and said i' the world, and many worms 103 PART II And beasts and men live on, and mighty Earth, Alastor From sea and mountain, city and wilderness, In vesper low or joyous orison, Lifts still its solemn voice : but thou art fled ; Thou canst no longer know or love the shapes Of this phantasmal scene, who have to thee Been purest ministers, who are, alas ! Now thou art not. Upon those pallid lips So sweet even in their silence, on those eyes That image sleep in death, upon that form Yet safe from the worm's outrage, let no tear Be shed, not even in thought. Nor, when those hues Are gone, and those divinest lineaments, Worn by the senseless wind, shall live alone In the frail pauses of this simple strain, Let not high verse, mourning the memory Of that which is no more, or painting's woe Or sculpture, speak in feeble imagery Their own cold powers. Art and eloquence, And all the shows o' the world are frail and vain To weep a loss that turns their lights to shade. It is a woe too deep for tears, when all Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit, Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves Those who remain behind, not sobs or groans, The passionate tumult of a clinging hope ; But pale despair and cold tranquillity, Nature's vast frame, the web of human things, Birth and the grave, that are not as they were. 104 PART III. ADONAIS: AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN KEATS 'Aarrjp irpiv fiev e\a//,7re? ivi ^cdoktcv e&>o?, Nvv Be davcov, \a/j,7rei$ ecrrepos iv cf>6tfievoc