To be thus fair, by the few lines1 alone Which thro' her floating locks and gathered cloke, 2 Glances of soul-dissolving glory, shone: None else beheld her eyes-in him they woke Memories which found a tongue, as thus he silence broke.3 1 I can see no reason for questioning this word, or construing it, as Mr. Rossetti does, to mean "lines, rays, or pencils of light." It seems to me to mean simply such broken lines of her form as could be discerned through her hair and garment,—shone being used metaphorically, as a poet talks of anything beautiful shining or beaming. 2 I presume Shelley preferred this unusual orthography on the ground of the commonplace associations of the word cloak as ordinarily spelt. 3 It is to be noted that, at this point, the poet ostensibly disappears, the remaining eleven cantos being uttered by Laon. Canto Second. I. The star-light smile of children, the sweet looks And the green light which shifting overhead, II. In Argolis, beside the echoing sea, 1 Spirits' in Shelley's edition. Of the past world, the vital words and deeds. Of minds whom neither time nor change can tame, Traditions dark and old, whence evil creeds Start forth, and whose dim shade a stream of poison feeds. III. I heard, as all have heard, the various story Of daily scorn, and slaves who loathed their state A throne of judgment in the grave1:-'twas fate, IV. The land in which I lived, by a fell bane That blasting curse men had no shame-all vied Which on the paths of men their mingling poison thrust. V. Earth, our bright home, its mountains and its waters, And the ætherial shapes which are suspended 1 This seems to me to mean "Slaves who loathed their slavery, yet, being habituated to flatter worldly powers, imagined similar powers sitting in judgment on them after death,' -a simple realistic theory of the idea of eternal punishments and rewards. I can imagine that Shelley, in omitting the three commas required by grammar, did so to secure rapidity of passage to the final proposition. Over its green expanse, and those fair daughters, It cradled the young world, none wandered forth On every heart: the light which shews its worth, Must among gentle thoughts and fearless take its birth. VI. This vital world, this home of happy spirits, On their tempestuous flood the shrieking wretch from shore. VII. Out of that Ocean's wrecks had Guilt and Woe Such refuge after death!-well might they learn VIII. For they all pined in bondage: body and soul, Before one Power, to which supreme controul Over their will by their own weakness lent, All symbols of things evil, all divine; And hymns of blood or mockery, which rent The air from all its fanes, did intertwine Imposture's impious toils round each discordant shrine. IX. I heard as all have heard, life's various story, In shame and scorn, from groans of crowds made pale O'er her polluted child, from innocent blood X. I wandered thro' the wrecks of days departed O'er the still sea and jaggèd islets darted XI. I knew not who had framed these wonders then, |