"Fallen, as Napoleon fell."-I felt my cheek That every pigmy kicked it as it lay; And much I grieved to think how power and will And why God made irreconcilable With the spent vision of the times that were hold," Said my guide, "those spoilers spoiled, Voltaire, "Frederick, and Paul, Catherine, and Leopold, And hoary anarchs, demagogues, and sage names which the world thinks always old, "For in the battle life and they did wage, She remained conqueror. I was overcome By my own heart alone, which neither age, "Nor tears, nor infamy, nor now the tomb Could temper to its object.”—“ Let them pass,” I cried, "the world and its mysterious doom "Is not so much more glorious than it was, That I desire to worship those who drew New figures on its false and fragile glass "As the old faded."-" Figures ever new Rise on the bubble, paint them as you may; We have but thrown, as those before us threw, "Our shadows on it as it past away. But mark how chained to the triumphal chair The mighty phantoms of an elder day; "All that is mortal of great Plato there Expiates the joy and wo his master knew not: The star that ruled his doom was far too fair, "And life, where long that flower of Heaven grew not, Conquered that heart by love, which gold, or pain, Or age, or sloth, or slavery, could subdue not. "And near him walk the [ ] twain, The tutor and his pupil, whom Dominion Followed as tame as vulture in a chain. "The world was darkened beneath either pinion Of him whom from the flock of conquerors Fame singled out for her thunder-bearing minion; "The other long outlived both woes and wars, Throned in the thoughts of men, and still had kept The jealous key of truth's eternal doors, "If Bacon's eagle spirit had not leapt "To wake, and lead him to the eaves that held "Of those who are infected with it-I Have suffered what I wrote, or viler pain, And so my words have seeds of misery !" "All pleasure and all pain, all hate and love, Which they had known before that hour of rest; A sleeping mother then would dream not of "Her only child who died upon her breast "When the sun lingered o'er his ocean floor, "Ills, which if ills can find no cure from thee, The thought of which no other sleep will quell, Nor other music blot from memory, "So sweet and deep is the oblivious spell; And whether life had been before that sleep The heaven which I imagine, or a hell "Like this harsh world in which I wake to weep, I know not. I arose, and for a space The scene of woods and waters seemed to keep, "Though it was now broad day, a gentle trace Of light diviner than the common sun Sheds on the common earth, and all the place "Was filled with magic sounds woven into one Oblivious melody, confusing sense Amid the gliding waves and shadows dun; "And, as I looked, the bright omnipresence Of morning through the orient cavern flowed, And the sun's image radiantly intense "Burned on the waters of the well that glowed Like gold, and threaded all the forest's maze With winding paths of emerald fire; there stood "Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze "A Shape all light, which with one hand did fling "A silver music on the mossy lawn; And still before me on the dusky grass, Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn: "In her right hand she bore a crystal glass, Mantling with bright Nepenthe; the fierce splendour Fell from her as she moved under the mass "To move, as one between desire and shame Suspended, I said-If, as it doth seem, Thou comest from the realm without a name, "Into this valley of perpetual dream, "And underneath ethereal glory clad The wilderness, and far before her flew The tempest of the splendour, which forbade "Shadow to fall from leaf and stone; the crew Show whence I came, and where I am, and why- Seemed in that light, like atomies to dance Through the sick day in which we wake to weep, "Beside my path, as silent as a ghost; "A moving arch of victory, the vermilion The favourite song "Stanco di pascolar le peccorelle," is a Brescian national air. "Others stood gazing, till within the shade Of the great mountain its light left them dim; Others outspeeded it; and others made "Circles around it, like the clouds that swim Round the high moon in a bright sea of air; And more did follow, with exulting hymn, "The chariot and the captives fettered there:But all like bubbles on an eddying flood Fell into the same track at last, and were "Borne onward. I among the multitude Was swept-me, sweetest flowers delayed not long; Me, not the shadow nor the solitude; 66 Me, not that falling stream's Lethean song; Me, not the phantom of that early form, Which moved upon its motion--but among "The thickest billows of that living storm I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime Of that cold light, whose airs too soon deform. "Before the chariot had begun to climb The opposing steep of that mysterious dell, Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme "Of him who from the lowest depths of hell, Through every paradise and through all glory, Love led serene, and who returned to tell "The words of hate and care; the wondrous story How all things are transfigured except Love; For deaf as is a sea, which wrath makes hoary, "The world can hear not the sweet notes that move The sphere whose light is melody to loversA wonder worthy of his rhyme-the grove 66 Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers, The earth was gray with phantoms, and the air Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers "A flock of vampire-bats before the glare Of the tropic sun, bringing, ere evening, Strange night upon some Indian vale;-thus were "Phantoms diffused around; and some did fling Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves, Behind them; some like eaglets on the wing "Were lost in the white day; others like elves Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes Upon the sunny streams and grassy shelves: "And others sate chattering like restless apes On vulgar hands, Some made a cradle of the ermined capes "Of kingly mantles; some across the tire "A baby's or an idiot's brow, and made Sate hatching their bare broods under the shade "Of demon wings, and laughed from their dead eyes To reassume the delegated power, Arrayed in which those worms did monarchize, "Who made this earth their charnel. Others more Humble, like falcons, sat upon the fist Of common men, and round their heads did soar; "Or like small gnats and flies, as thick as mist "And others, like discoloured flakes of snow "Which they extinguished; and, like tears, they were A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained In drops of sorrow. I became aware "Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stain'd The track in which we moved. After brief space, From every form the beauty slowly waned; FRAGMENTS.* ΤΟ HERE, my dear friend, is a new book for you; To other friends, one female and one male, Free love has this, different from gold and clay, Like ocean, which the general north wind breaks If I were one whom the loud world held wise, It is a sweet thing friendship, a dear balm, These fragments do not properly belong to the poems of 1822. They are gleanings from Shelley's manuscript books and papers; preserved not only because they are beautiful in themselves, but as affording indications of his feelings and virtues. Which moves not 'mid the moving heavens alone, A smile among dark frowns-a gentle tone Among rude voices, a beloved light, A solitude, a refuge, a delight. If I had but a friend! why I have three, |