T. L. PEACOCK-PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 173 45 And tell how now, amid wreck and sor- PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY row, (1792-1822) And want, and sickness, and houseless nights, TO HARRIETHe bides in calmness the silent morrow, (Dedication of Queen Mab, 1812-13) That no ray lights. And lives he still, then? Yes! Old and Whose is the love that, gleaming through hoary the world, At thirty-nine, from despair and ·Wards off the poisonous arrow of its woe, scorn? He lives, enduring what future story Whose is the warm and partial praise, Will never know. Virtue's most sweet reward? 50 Then press into thy breast this pledge of love; And know, though time may change and years may roll, Each floweret gathered in my heart It consecrates to thine. 15 TO WORDSWORTH (1815) There is a fever of the spirit, The brand of Cain's unresting doom, Which in the lone dark souls that bear it Glows like the lamp in Tullia's tomb: Unlike that lamp, its subtle fire 5 Burns, blasts, consumes its cell, the heart, Till, one by one, hope, joy, desire, Like dreams of shadowy smoke depart. When hope, love, life itself, are only Dust – spectral memories - dead and cold The unfed fire burns bright and lonely, Like that undying lamp of old: And by that drear illumination, Till time its clay-built home has rent, Thought broods feeling's desola tion The soul is its own monument. Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know turn: first glow, Have Aed like sweet dreams, leaving thee 10 on 15 roar: thee, 25 to be. 30 35 ne'er yet 'Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood In chårnals and on coffins, where black ghost, Of what we are. In lone and silent hours, From ALASTOR When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness, Invocation to Nature Like an inspired and desperate alchemist (1815) Staking his very life on some dark hope Have I mixed awful talk and asking looks Earth, Ocean, Air, beloved brotherhood! With my most innocent love, until strange If our great Mother has imbued my soul tears, With aught of natural piety to feel Uniting with with those breathless kisses, Your love, and recompense the boon with made mine; Such magic as compels the charmèd night If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and To render up thy charge; and, though even, With sunset and its gorgeous ministers, Thou hast unveiled thy inmost sanctuary, And solemn midnight's tingling silentness; Enough from incommunicable dream, If Autumn's hollow sighs in the sere wood, And twilight phantasms, and deep noonday And Winter robing with pure snow and thought, Has shone within me, that serenely now Of starry ice the gray grass and bare And moveless, as a long-forgotten lyre boughs; Suspended in the solitary dome If Spring's voluptuous pantings when she Of some mysterious and deserted fane, breathes I wait thy breath, Great Parent, that my Her first sweet kisses have been dear to strain me; May modulate with murmurs of the air, If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast And motions of the forests and the sea, I consciously have. injured, but still loved And voice of living beings, and woven And cherished these my kindred; then hymns forgive Of night and day, and the deep heart of This boast, beloved brethren, and with draw No portion of your wonted favor now! HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL Mother of this unfathomable world! BEAUTY Favor my solemn song, for I have loved (1816) Thee ever, and thee only; I have watched Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy The awful shadow of some unseen Power steps, Floats though unseen amongst us, visitAnd my heart ever gazes on the depth ing Of thy deep mysteries. I have made my This various world with as inconstant bed wing 40 crowns 10 45 15 man. I 20 As summer winds that creep from flower to flower; Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, Each human heart and countenance; Like hues and harmonies of evening, Like clouds in starlight widely spread, be a 35 10 IV II 40 15 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. That wax and wane in lovers' eyes! Thou, that to human thought art nourish ment, be, 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 forever 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? 45 20 V 50 While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through 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; When, musing deeply on the lot 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! 55 60 The toil which stole from thee so many 10 Is ended — and the fruit is at thy feet! No longer where the woods to frame a bower With interlaced branches mix and meet, Or where, with sound like many voices sweet, Waterfalls leap among wild islands green Which framed for my lone boat a lone VII 15 The day becomes more solemn and serene When noon is past there is a harmony In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, 75 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 Its calm, to one who worships thee, Whom, Spirit fair, thy spells did bind To fear himself, and love all human kind. III 80 TO MARY rose (Dedication of The Revolt of Islam, 1817) 25 I So now my summer task is ended, Mary, And I return to thee, mine own heart's home; From the near schoolroom voices that, alas! Were but one echo from a world of woes The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes. IV Which crushed and withered mine, that could not be Aught but a lifeless clog, until revived by thee. VII on Thou Friend, whose presence my wintry heart 55 Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain : How beautiful and calm and free thou wert In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain, And walk as free as light the clouds among, Which 'many envious slave then breathed in vain From his dim dungeon, --- and my spirit sprung To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long! 60 V an And from that hour did I with earnest thought Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore; Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught I cared to learn, but from that secret VIII |