THE COMPLETE

POETICAL WORKS

OF

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

VOLUME 3

OXFORD EDITION. INCLUDING MATERIALS NEVER BEFOREPRINTED IN ANY EDITION OF THE POEMS. 

EDITED WITH TEXTUAL NOTES

BY

THOMAS HUTCHINSON, M. A. EDITOR OF THE OXFORD WORDSWORTH. 

1914. 

CONTENTS. 

TRANSLATIONS. 

HYMN TO MERCURY. TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER. 

HOMER'S HYMN TO CASTOR AND POLLUX. 

HOMER'S HYMN TO THE MOON. 

HOMER'S HYMN TO THE SUN. 

HOMER'S HYMN TO THE EARTH: MOTHER OF ALL. 

HOMER'S HYMN TO MINERVA. 

HOMER'S HYMN TO VENUS. 

THE CYCLOPS: A SATYRIC DRAMA. TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. 

EPIGRAMS:

1. TO STELLA. FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. 

2. KISSING HELENA. FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. 

3. SPIRIT OF PLATO. FROM THE GREEK. 

4. CIRCUMSTANCE. FROM THE GREEK. 

FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS. FROM THE GREEK OF BION. 

FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BION. FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. 

FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. 

PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR. FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. 

FROM VERGIL'S TENTH ECLOGUE. 

THE SAME. 

FROM VERGIL'S FOURTH GEORGIC. 

SONNET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. 

THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE "CONVITO". FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. 

MATILDA GATHERING FLOWERS. FROM THE "PURGATORIO" OF DANTE. 

FRAGMENT. ADAPTED FROM THE "VITA NUOVA" OF DANTE. 

UGOLINO. "INFERNO", 33, 22-75, TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY. 

SONNET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI. 

SCENES FROM THE "MAGICO PRODIGIOSO". FROM THE SPANISH OF CALDERON. 

STANZAS FROM CALDERON'S "CISMA DE INGLETERRA". 

SCENES FROM THE "FAUST" OF GOETHE. 

JUVENILIA. 

QUEEN MAB. A PHILOSOPHICAL POEM. TO HARRIET ******. QUEEN MAB. SHELLEY'S NOTES. NOTE BY MRS. SHELLEY. 

VERSES ON A CAT. 

FRAGMENT: OMENS. 

EPITAPHIUM [LATIN VERSION OF THE EPITAPH IN GRAY'S "ELEGY"]. 

IN HOROLOGIUM. 

A DIALOGUE. 

TO THE MOONBEAM. 

THE SOLITARY. 

TO DEATH. 

LOVE'S ROSE. 

EYES: A FRAGMENT. 

ORIGINAL POETRY BY VICTOR AND CAZIRE. 

1. 'HERE I SIT WITH MY PAPER, MY PEN AND MY INK'. 

2. TO MISS -- -- [HARRIET GROVE] FROM MISS -- -- [ELIZABETH SHELLEY]. 

3. SONG: 'COLD, COLD IS THE BLAST'. 

4. SONG: 'COME [HARRIET]! SWEET IS THE HOUR'. 

5. SONG: DESPAIR. 

6. SONG: SORROW. 

7. SONG: HOPE. 

8. SONG: TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN. 

9. SONG: TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 

10. THE IRISHMAN'S SONG. 

11. SONG: 'FIERCE ROARS THE MIDNIGHT STORM'. 

12. SONG: TO -- [HARRIET]. 

13. SONG: TO -- [HARRIET]. 

14. SAINT EDMOND'S EVE. 

15. REVENGE. 

16. GHASTA; OR, THE AVENGING DEMON. 

17. FRAGMENT; OR, THE TRIUMPH OF CONSCIENCE. 

POEMS FROM ST. IRVYNE; OR, THE ROSICRUCIAN. 

1. VICTORIA. 

2. 'ON THE DARK HEIGHT OF JURA'. 

3. SISTER ROSA. A BALLAD. 

4. ST. IRVYNE'S TOWER. 

5. BEREAVEMENT. 

6. THE DROWNED LOVER. 

POSTHUMOUS FRAGMENTS OF MARGARET NICHOLSON. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

WAR. 

FRAGMENT: SUPPOSED TO BE AN EPITHALAMIUM OFFRANCIS RAVAILLAC AND CHARLOTTE CORDAY. 

DESPAIR. 

FRAGMENT. 

THE SPECTRAL HORSEMAN. 

MELODY TO A SCENE OF FORMER TIMES. 

STANZA FROM A TRANSLATION OF THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN. 

BIGOTRY'S VICTIM. 

ON AN ICICLE THAT CLUNG TO THE GRASS OF A GRAVE. 

LOVE. 

ON A FETE AT CARLTON HOUSE: FRAGMENT. 

TO A STAR. 

TO MARY, WHO DIED IN THIS OPINION. 

A TALE OF SOCIETY AS IT IS: FROM FACTS, 1811. 

TO THE REPUBLICANS OF NORTH AMERICA. 

TO IRELAND. 

ON ROBERT EMMET'S GRAVE. 

THE RETROSPECT: CWM ELAN, 1812. 

FRAGMENT OF A SONNET: TO HARRIET. 

TO HARRIET. 

SONNET: TO A BALLOON LADEN WITH KNOWLEDGE. 

SONNET: ON LAUNCHING SOME BOTTLES FILLED WITH KNOWLEDGE INTO THEBRISTOL CHANNEL. 

THE DEVIL'S WALK. 

FRAGMENT OF A SONNET: FAREWELL TO NORTH DEVON. 

ON LEAVING LONDON FOR WALES. 

THE WANDERING JEW'S SOLILOQUY. 

EVENING: TO HARRIET. 

TO IANTHE. 

SONG FROM THE WANDERING JEW. 

FRAGMENT FROM THE WANDERING JEW. 

TO THE QUEEN OF MY HEART. 

EDITOR'S NOTES. 

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST OF EDITIONS. 

INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

***

TRANSLATIONS. 

[Of the Translations that follow a few were published by Shelleyhimself, others by Mrs. Shelley in the "Posthumous Poems", 1824, or the"Poetical Works", 1839, and the remainder by Medwin (1834, 1847), Garnett (1862), Rossetti (1870), Forman (1876) and Locock (1903) fromthe manuscript originals. Shelley's "Translations" fall between theyears 1818 and 1822. ]

HYMN TO MERCURY. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. This alone of the"Translations" is included in the Harvard manuscript book. 'Fragments ofthe drafts of this and the other Hymns of Homer exist among the Boscombemanuscripts' (Forman). ]

1. Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove, The Herald-child, king of ArcadiaAnd all its pastoral hills, whom in sweet loveHaving been interwoven, modest MayBore Heaven's dread Supreme. An antique grove _5Shadowed the cavern where the lovers layIn the deep night, unseen by Gods or Men, And white-armed Juno slumbered sweetly then. 

2. Now, when the joy of Jove had its fulfilling, And Heaven's tenth moon chronicled her relief, _10She gave to light a babe all babes excelling, A schemer subtle beyond all belief;A shepherd of thin dreams, a cow-stealing, A night-watching, and door-waylaying thief, Who 'mongst the Gods was soon about to thieve, _15And other glorious actions to achieve. 

3. The babe was born at the first peep of day;He began playing on the lyre at noon, And the same evening did he steal awayApollo's herds;--the fourth day of the moon _20On which him bore the venerable May, From her immortal limbs he leaped full soon, Nor long could in the sacred cradle keep, But out to seek Apollo's herds would creep. 

4. Out of the lofty cavern wandering _25He found a tortoise, and cried out--'A treasure!'(For Mercury first made the tortoise sing)The beast before the portal at his leisureThe flowery herbage was depasturing, Moving his feet in a deliberate measure _30Over the turf. Jove's profitable sonEying him laughed, and laughing thus begun:--

5. 'A useful godsend are you to me now, King of the dance, companion of the feast, Lovely in all your nature! Welcome, you _35Excellent plaything! Where, sweet mountain-beast, Got you that speckled shell? Thus much I know, You must come home with me and be my guest;You will give joy to me, and I will doAll that is in my power to honour you. _40

6. 'Better to be at home than out of door, So come with me; and though it has been saidThat you alive defend from magic power, I know you will sing sweetly when you're dead. 'Thus having spoken, the quaint infant bore, _45Lifting it from the grass on which it fedAnd grasping it in his delighted hold, His treasured prize into the cavern old. 

7. Then scooping with a chisel of gray steel, He bored the life and soul out of the beast. -- _50Not swifter a swift thought of woe or wealDarts through the tumult of a human breastWhich thronging cares annoy--not swifter wheelThe flashes of its torture and unrestOut of the dizzy eyes--than Maia's son _55All that he did devise hath featly done. 

8.... And through the tortoise's hard stony skinAt proper distances small holes he made, And fastened the cut stems of reeds within, And with a piece of leather overlaid _60The open space and fixed the cubits in, Fitting the bridge to both, and stretched o'er allSymphonious cords of sheep-gut rhythmical. 

9. When he had wrought the lovely instrument, He tried the chords, and made division meet, _65Preluding with the plectrum, and there wentUp from beneath his hand a tumult sweetOf mighty sounds, and from his lips he sentA strain of unpremeditated witJoyous and wild and wanton--such you may _70Hear among revellers on a holiday. 

10. He sung how Jove and May of the bright sandalDallied in love not quite legitimate;And his own birth, still scoffing at the scandal, And naming his own name, did celebrate; _75His mother's cave and servant maids he planned allIn plastic verse, her household stuff and state, Perennial pot, trippet, and brazen pan, --But singing, he conceived another plan. 

11.... Seized with a sudden fancy for fresh meat, _80He in his sacred crib depositedThe hollow lyre, and from the cavern sweetRushed with great leaps up to the mountain's head, Revolving in his mind some subtle featOf thievish craft, such as a swindler might _85Devise in the lone season of dun night. 

12. Lo! the great Sun under the ocean's bed hasDriven steeds and chariot--the child meanwhile strodeO'er the Pierian mountains clothed in shadows, Where the immortal oxen of the God _90Are pastured in the flowering unmown meadows, And safely stalled in a remote abode. --The archer Argicide, elate and proud, Drove fifty from the herd, lowing aloud. 

13. He drove them wandering o'er the sandy way, _95But, being ever mindful of his craft, Backward and forward drove he them astray, So that the tracks which seemed before, were aft;His sandals then he threw to the ocean spray, And for each foot he wrought a kind of raft _100Of tamarisk, and tamarisk-like sprigs, And bound them in a lump with withy twigs. 

14. And on his feet he tied these sandals light, The trail of whose wide leaves might not betrayHis track; and then, a self-sufficing wight, _105Like a man hastening on some distant way, He from Pieria's mountain bent his flight;But an old man perceived the infant passDown green Onchestus heaped like beds with grass. 

15. The old man stood dressing his sunny vine: _110'Halloo! old fellow with the crooked shoulder!You grub those stumps? before they will bear wineMethinks even you must grow a little older:Attend, I pray, to this advice of mine, As you would 'scape what might appal a bolder-- _115Seeing, see not--and hearing, hear not--and--If you have understanding--understand. '

16. So saying, Hermes roused the oxen vast;O'er shadowy mountain and resounding dell, And flower-paven plains, great Hermes passed; _120Till the black night divine, which favouring fellAround his steps, grew gray, and morning fastWakened the world to work, and from her cellSea-strewn, the Pallantean Moon sublimeInto her watch-tower just began to climb. _125

17. Now to Alpheus he had driven allThe broad-foreheaded oxen of the Sun;They came unwearied to the lofty stallAnd to the water-troughs which ever runThrough the fresh fields--and when with rushgrass tall, _130Lotus and all sweet herbage, every oneHad pastured been, the great God made them moveTowards the stall in a collected drove. 

18. A mighty pile of wood the God then heaped, And having soon conceived the mystery _135Of fire, from two smooth laurel branches strippedThe bark, and rubbed them in his palms;--on highSuddenly forth the burning vapour leapedAnd the divine child saw delightedly. --Mercury first found out for human weal _140Tinder-box, matches, fire-irons, flint and steel. 

19. And fine dry logs and roots innumerousHe gathered in a delve upon the ground--And kindled them--and instantaneousThe strength of the fierce flame was breathed around: _145And whilst the might of glorious Vulcan thusWrapped the great pile with glare and roaring sound, Hermes dragged forth two heifers, lowing loud, Close to the fire--such might was in the God. 

20. And on the earth upon their backs he threw _150The panting beasts, and rolled them o'er and o'er, And bored their lives out. Without more adoHe cut up fat and flesh, and down beforeThe fire, on spits of wood he placed the two, Toasting their flesh and ribs, and all the gore _155Pursed in the bowels; and while this was doneHe stretched their hides over a craggy stone. 

21. We mortals let an ox grow old, and thenCut it up after long consideration, --But joyous-minded Hermes from the glen _160Drew the fat spoils to the more open stationOf a flat smooth space, and portioned them; and whenHe had by lot assigned to each a rationOf the twelve Gods, his mind became awareOf all the joys which in religion are. _165

22. For the sweet savour of the roasted meatTempted him though immortal. NathelessHe checked his haughty will and did not eat, Though what it cost him words can scarce express, And every wish to put such morsels sweet _170Down his most sacred throat, he did repress;But soon within the lofty portalled stallHe placed the fat and flesh and bones and all. 

23. And every trace of the fresh butcheryAnd cooking, the God soon made disappear, _175As if it all had vanished through the sky;He burned the hoofs and horns and head and hair, --The insatiate fire devoured them hungrily;--And when he saw that everything was clear, He quenched the coal, and trampled the black dust, _180And in the stream his bloody sandals tossed. 

24. All night he worked in the serene moonshine--But when the light of day was spread abroadHe sought his natal mountain-peaks divine. On his long wandering, neither Man nor God _185Had met him, since he killed Apollo's kine, Nor house-dog had barked at him on his road;Now he obliquely through the keyhole passed, Like a thin mist, or an autumnal blast. 

25. Right through the temple of the spacious cave _190He went with soft light feet--as if his treadFell not on earth; no sound their falling gave;Then to his cradle he crept quick, and spreadThe swaddling-clothes about him; and the knaveLay playing with the covering of the bed _195With his left hand about his knees--the rightHeld his beloved tortoise-lyre tight. 

26. There he lay innocent as a new-born child, As gossips say; but though he was a God, The Goddess, his fair mother, unbeguiled, _200Knew all that he had done being abroad:'Whence come you, and from what adventure wild, You cunning rogue, and where have you abodeAll the long night, clothed in your impudence?What have you done since you departed hence? _205

27. 'Apollo soon will pass within this gateAnd bind your tender body in a chainInextricably tight, and fast as fate, Unless you can delude the God again, Even when within his arms--ah, runagate! _210A pretty torment both for Gods and MenYour father made when he made you!'--'Dear mother, 'Replied sly Hermes, 'wherefore scold and bother?

28. 'As if I were like other babes as old, And understood nothing of what is what; _215And cared at all to hear my mother scold. I in my subtle brain a scheme have got, Which whilst the sacred stars round Heaven are rolledWill profit you and me--nor shall our lotBe as you counsel, without gifts or food, _220To spend our lives in this obscure abode. 

29'But we will leave this shadow-peopled caveAnd live among the Gods, and pass each dayIn high communion, sharing what they haveOf profuse wealth and unexhausted prey; _225And from the portion which my father gaveTo Phoebus, I will snatch my share away, Which if my father will not--natheless I, Who am the king of robbers, can but try. 

30. 'And, if Latona's son should find me out, _230I'll countermine him by a deeper plan;I'll pierce the Pythian temple-walls, though stout, And sack the fane of everything I can--Caldrons and tripods of great worth no doubt, Each golden cup and polished brazen pan, _235All the wrought tapestries and garments gay. '--So they together talked;--meanwhile the Day

31. Aethereal born arose out of the floodOf flowing Ocean, bearing light to men. Apollo passed toward the sacred wood, _240Which from the inmost depths of its green glenEchoes the voice of Neptune, --and there stoodOn the same spot in green Onchestus thenThat same old animal, the vine-dresser, Who was employed hedging his vineyard there. _245

32. Latona's glorious Son began:--'I prayTell, ancient hedger of Onchestus green, Whether a drove of kine has passed this way, All heifers with crooked horns? for they have beenStolen from the herd in high Pieria, _250Where a black bull was fed apart, betweenTwo woody mountains in a neighbouring glen, And four fierce dogs watched there, unanimous as men. 

33. 'And what is strange, the author of this theftHas stolen the fatted heifers every one, _255But the four dogs and the black bull are left:--Stolen they were last night at set of sun, Of their soft beds and their sweet food bereft. --Now tell me, man born ere the world begun, Have you seen any one pass with the cows?'-- _260To whom the man of overhanging brows:

34. 'My friend, it would require no common skillJustly to speak of everything I see:On various purposes of good or illMany pass by my vineyard, --and to me _265'Tis difficult to know the invisibleThoughts, which in all those many minds may be:--Thus much alone I certainly can say, I tilled these vines till the decline of day, 35. 'And then I thought I saw, but dare not speak _270With certainty of such a wondrous thing, A child, who could not have been born a week, Those fair-horned cattle closely following, And in his hand he held a polished stick:And, as on purpose, he walked wavering _275From one side to the other of the road, And with his face opposed the steps he trod. '

36. Apollo hearing this, passed quickly on--No winged omen could have shown more clearThat the deceiver was his father's son. _280So the God wraps a purple atmosphereAround his shoulders, and like fire is goneTo famous Pylos, seeking his kine there, And found their track and his, yet hardly cold, And cried--'What wonder do mine eyes behold! _285

37. 'Here are the footsteps of the horned herdTurned back towards their fields of asphodel;--But THESE are not the tracks of beast or bird, Gray wolf, or bear, or lion of the dell, Or maned Centaur--sand was never stirred _290By man or woman thus! Inexplicable!Who with unwearied feet could e'er impressThe sand with such enormous vestiges?

38. 'That was most strange--but this is stranger still!'Thus having said, Phoebus impetuously _295Sought high Cyllene's forest-cinctured hill, And the deep cavern where dark shadows lie, And where the ambrosial nymph with happy willBore the Saturnian's love-child, Mercury--And a delightful odour from the dew _300Of the hill pastures, at his coming, flew. 

39. And Phoebus stooped under the craggy roofArched over the dark cavern:--Maia's childPerceived that he came angry, far aloof, About the cows of which he had been beguiled; _305And over him the fine and fragrant woofOf his ambrosial swaddling-clothes he piled--As among fire-brands lies a burning sparkCovered, beneath the ashes cold and dark. 

40. There, like an infant who had sucked his fill _310And now was newly washed and put to bed, Awake, but courting sleep with weary will, And gathered in a lump, hands, feet, and head, He lay, and his beloved tortoise stillHe grasped and held under his shoulder-blade. _315Phoebus the lovely mountain-goddess knew, Not less her subtle, swindling baby, who

41. Lay swathed in his sly wiles. Round every crookOf the ample cavern, for his kine, ApolloLooked sharp; and when he saw them not, he took _320The glittering key, and opened three great hollowRecesses in the rock--where many a nookWas filled with the sweet food immortals swallow, And mighty heaps of silver and of goldWere piled within--a wonder to behold! _325

42. And white and silver robes, all overwroughtWith cunning workmanship of tracery sweet--Except among the Gods there can be noughtIn the wide world to be compared with it. Latona's offspring, after having sought _330His herds in every corner, thus did greetGreat Hermes:--'Little cradled rogue, declareOf my illustrious heifers, where they are!

43. 'Speak quickly! or a quarrel between usMust rise, and the event will be, that I _335Shall hurl you into dismal Tartarus, In fiery gloom to dwell eternally;Nor shall your father nor your mother looseThe bars of that black dungeon--utterlyYou shall be cast out from the light of day, _340To rule the ghosts of men, unblessed as they. 

44. To whom thus Hermes slily answered:--'SonOf great Latona, what a speech is this!Why come you here to ask me what is doneWith the wild oxen which it seems you miss? _345I have not seen them, nor from any oneHave heard a word of the whole business;If you should promise an immense reward, I could not tell more than you now have heard. 

45. 'An ox-stealer should be both tall and strong, _350And I am but a little new-born thing, Who, yet at least, can think of nothing wrong:--My business is to suck, and sleep, and flingThe cradle-clothes about me all day long, --Or half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing, _355And to be washed in water clean and warm, And hushed and kissed and kept secure from harm. 

46. 'O, let not e'er this quarrel be averred!The astounded Gods would laugh at you, if e'erYou should allege a story so absurd _360As that a new-born infant forth could fareOut of his home after a savage herd. I was born yesterday--my small feet areToo tender for the roads so hard and rough:--And if you think that this is not enough, _365

47. I swear a great oath, by my father's head, That I stole not your cows, and that I knowOf no one else, who might, or could, or did. --Whatever things cows are, I do not know, For I have only heard the name. '--This said _370He winked as fast as could be, and his browWas wrinkled, and a whistle loud gave he, Like one who hears some strange absurdity. 

48. Apollo gently smiled and said:--'Ay, ay, --You cunning little rascal, you will bore _375Many a rich man's house, and your arrayOf thieves will lay their siege before his door, Silent as night, in night; and many a dayIn the wild glens rough shepherds will deploreThat you or yours, having an appetite, _380Met with their cattle, comrade of the night!

49. 'And this among the Gods shall be your gift, To be considered as the lord of thoseWho swindle, house-break, sheep-steal, and shop-lift;--But now if you would not your last sleep doze; _385Crawl out!'--Thus saying, Phoebus did upliftThe subtle infant in his swaddling clothes, And in his arms, according to his wont, A scheme devised the illustrious Argiphont. 

50....... And sneezed and shuddered--Phoebus on the grass _390Him threw, and whilst all that he had designedHe did perform--eager although to pass, Apollo darted from his mighty mindTowards the subtle babe the following scoff:--'Do not imagine this will get you off, _395

51. 'You little swaddled child of Jove and May!And seized him:--'By this omen I shall traceMy noble herds, and you shall lead the way. '--Cyllenian Hermes from the grassy place, Like one in earnest haste to get away, _400Rose, and with hands lifted towards his faceRound both his ears up from his shoulders drewHis swaddling clothes, and--'What mean you to do

52. 'With me, you unkind God?'--said Mercury:'Is it about these cows you tease me so? _405I wish the race of cows were perished!--IStole not your cows--I do not even knowWhat things cows are. Alas! I well may sighThat since I came into this world of woe, I should have ever heard the name of one-- _410But I appeal to the Saturnian's throne. '

53. Thus Phoebus and the vagrant MercuryTalked without coming to an explanation, With adverse purpose. As for Phoebus, heSought not revenge, but only information, _415And Hermes tried with lies and rogueryTo cheat Apollo. --But when no evasionServed--for the cunning one his match had found--He paced on first over the sandy ground. 

54.... He of the Silver Bow the child of Jove _420Followed behind, till to their heavenly SireCame both his children, beautiful as Love, And from his equal balance did requireA judgement in the cause wherein they strove. O'er odorous Olympus and its snows _425A murmuring tumult as they came arose, --

55. And from the folded depths of the great Hill, While Hermes and Apollo reverent stoodBefore Jove's throne, the indestructibleImmortals rushed in mighty multitude; _430And whilst their seats in order due they fill, The lofty Thunderer in a careless moodTo Phoebus said:--'Whence drive you this sweet prey, This herald-baby, born but yesterday?--

56. 'A most important subject, trifler, this _435To lay before the Gods!'--'Nay, Father, nay, When you have understood the business, Say not that I alone am fond of prey. I found this little boy in a recessUnder Cyllene's mountains far away-- _440A manifest and most apparent thief, A scandalmonger beyond all belief. 

57. 'I never saw his like either in HeavenOr upon earth for knavery or craft:--Out of the field my cattle yester-even, _445By the low shore on which the loud sea laughed, He right down to the river-ford had driven;And mere astonishment would make you daftTo see the double kind of footsteps strangeHe has impressed wherever he did range. _450

58. 'The cattle's track on the black dust, full wellIs evident, as if they went towardsThe place from which they came--that asphodelMeadow, in which I feed my many herds, --HIS steps were most incomprehensible-- _455I know not how I can describe in wordsThose tracks--he could have gone along the sandsNeither upon his feet nor on his hands;--

59. 'He must have had some other stranger modeOf moving on: those vestiges immense, _460Far as I traced them on the sandy road, Seemed like the trail of oak-toppings:--but thenceNo mark nor track denoting where they trodThe hard ground gave:--but, working at his fence, A mortal hedger saw him as he passed _465To Pylos, with the cows, in fiery haste. 

60. 'I found that in the dark he quietlyHad sacrificed some cows, and before lightHad thrown the ashes all dispersedlyAbout the road--then, still as gloomy night, _470Had crept into his cradle, either eyeRubbing, and cogitating some new sleight. No eagle could have seen him as he layHid in his cavern from the peering day. 

61. 'I taxed him with the fact, when he averred _475Most solemnly that he did neither seeNor even had in any manner heardOf my lost cows, whatever things cows be;Nor could he tell, though offered a reward, Not even who could tell of them to me. ' _480So speaking, Phoebus sate; and Hermes thenAddressed the Supreme Lord of Gods and Men:--

62. 'Great Father, you know clearly beforehandThat all which I shall say to you is sooth;I am a most veracious person, and _485Totally unacquainted with untruth. At sunrise Phoebus came, but with no bandOf Gods to bear him witness, in great wrath, To my abode, seeking his heifers there, And saying that I must show him where they are, _490

63. 'Or he would hurl me down the dark abyss. I know that every Apollonian limbIs clothed with speed and might and manliness, As a green bank with flowers--but unlike himI was born yesterday, and you may guess _495He well knew this when he indulged the whimOf bullying a poor little new-born thingThat slept, and never thought of cow-driving. 

64. 'Am I like a strong fellow who steals kine?Believe me, dearest Father--such you are-- _500This driving of the herds is none of mine;Across my threshold did I wander ne'er, So may I thrive! I reverence the divineSun and the Gods, and I love you, and careEven for this hard accuser--who must know _505I am as innocent as they or you. 

65. 'I swear by these most gloriously-wrought portals(It is, you will allow, an oath of might)Through which the multitude of the ImmortalsPass and repass forever, day and night, _510Devising schemes for the affairs of mortals--I am guiltless; and I will requite, Although mine enemy be great and strong, His cruel threat--do thou defend the young!'

66. So speaking, the Cyllenian Argiphont _515Winked, as if now his adversary was fitted:--And Jupiter, according to his wont, Laughed heartily to hear the subtle-wittedInfant give such a plausible account, And every word a lie. But he remitted _520Judgement at present--and his exhortationWas, to compose the affair by arbitration. 

67. And they by mighty Jupiter were biddenTo go forth with a single purpose both, Neither the other chiding nor yet chidden: _525And Mercury with innocence and truthTo lead the way, and show where he had hiddenThe mighty heifers. --Hermes, nothing loth, Obeyed the Aegis-bearer's will--for heIs able to persuade all easily. _530

68. These lovely children of Heaven's highest LordHastened to Pylos and the pastures wideAnd lofty stalls by the Alphean ford, Where wealth in the mute night is multipliedWith silent growth. Whilst Hermes drove the herd _535Out of the stony cavern, Phoebus spiedThe hides of those the little babe had slain, Stretched on the precipice above the plain. 

69. 'How was it possible, ' then Phoebus said, 'That you, a little child, born yesterday, _540A thing on mother's milk and kisses fed, Could two prodigious heifers ever flay?Even I myself may well hereafter dreadYour prowess, offspring of Cyllenian May, When you grow strong and tall. '--He spoke, and bound _545Stiff withy bands the infant's wrists around. 

70. He might as well have bound the oxen wild;The withy bands, though starkly interknit, Fell at the feet of the immortal child, Loosened by some device of his quick wit. _550Phoebus perceived himself again beguiled, And stared--while Hermes sought some hole or pit, Looking askance and winking fast as thought, Where he might hide himself and not be caught. 

71. Sudden he changed his plan, and with strange skill _555Subdued the strong Latonian, by the mightOf winning music, to his mightier will;His left hand held the lyre, and in his rightThe plectrum struck the chords--unconquerableUp from beneath his hand in circling flight _560The gathering music rose--and sweet as LoveThe penetrating notes did live and move

72. Within the heart of great Apollo--heListened with all his soul, and laughed for pleasure. Close to his side stood harping fearlessly _565The unabashed boy; and to the measureOf the sweet lyre, there followed loud and freeHis joyous voice; for he unlocked the treasureOf his deep song, illustrating the birthOf the bright Gods, and the dark desert Earth: _570

73. And how to the Immortals every oneA portion was assigned of all that is;But chief Mnemosyne did Maia's sonClothe in the light of his loud melodies;--And, as each God was born or had begun, _575He in their order due and fit degreesSung of his birth and being--and did moveApollo to unutterable love. 

74. These words were winged with his swift delight:'You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you _580Deserve that fifty oxen should requiteSuch minstrelsies as I have heard even now. Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight, One of your secrets I would gladly know, Whether the glorious power you now show forth _585Was folded up within you at your birth, 75. 'Or whether mortal taught or God inspiredThe power of unpremeditated song?Many divinest sounds have I admired, The Olympian Gods and mortal men among; _590But such a strain of wondrous, strange, untired, And soul-awakening music, sweet and strong, Yet did I never hear except from thee, Offspring of May, impostor Mercury!

76. 'What Muse, what skill, what unimagined use, _595What exercise of subtlest art, has givenThy songs such power?--for those who hear may chooseFrom three, the choicest of the gifts of Heaven, Delight, and love, and sleep, --sweet sleep, whose dewsAre sweeter than the balmy tears of even:-- _600And I, who speak this praise, am that ApolloWhom the Olympian Muses ever follow:

77. 'And their delight is dance, and the blithe noiseOf song and overflowing poesy;And sweet, even as desire, the liquid voice _605Of pipes, that fills the clear air thrillingly;But never did my inmost soul rejoiceIn this dear work of youthful revelryAs now. I wonder at thee, son of Jove;Thy harpings and thy song are soft as love. _610

78. 'Now since thou hast, although so very small, Science of arts so glorious, thus I swear, --And let this cornel javelin, keen and tall, Witness between us what I promise here, --That I will lead thee to the Olympian Hall, _615Honoured and mighty, with thy mother dear, And many glorious gifts in joy will give thee, And even at the end will ne'er deceive thee. '

79. To whom thus Mercury with prudent speech:--'Wisely hast thou inquired of my skill: _620I envy thee no thing I know to teachEven this day:--for both in word and willI would be gentle with thee; thou canst reachAll things in thy wise spirit, and thy sillIs highest in Heaven among the sons of Jove, _625Who loves thee in the fulness of his love. 

80. 'The Counsellor Supreme has given to theeDivinest gifts, out of the amplitudeOf his profuse exhaustless treasury;By thee, 'tis said, the depths are understood _630Of his far voice; by thee the mysteryOf all oracular fates, --and the dread moodOf the diviner is breathed up; even I--A child--perceive thy might and majesty. 

81. 'Thou canst seek out and compass all that wit _635Can find or teach;--yet since thou wilt, come takeThe lyre--be mine the glory giving it--Strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud, and wakeThy joyous pleasure out of many a fitOf tranced sound--and with fleet fingers make _640Thy liquid-voiced comrade talk with thee, --It can talk measured music eloquently. 

82. 'Then bear it boldly to the revel loud, Love-wakening dance, or feast of solemn state, A joy by night or day--for those endowed _645With art and wisdom who interrogateIt teaches, babbling in delightful moodAll things which make the spirit most elate, Soothing the mind with sweet familiar play, Chasing the heavy shadows of dismay. _650

83. 'To those who are unskilled in its sweet tongue, Though they should question most impetuouslyIts hidden soul, it gossips something wrong--Some senseless and impertinent reply. But thou who art as wise as thou art strong _655Canst compass all that thou desirest. IPresent thee with this music-flowing shell, Knowing thou canst interrogate it well. 

84. 'And let us two henceforth together feed, On this green mountain-slope and pastoral plain, _660The herds in litigation--they will breedQuickly enough to recompense our pain, If to the bulls and cows we take good heed;--And thou, though somewhat over fond of gain, Grudge me not half the profit. '--Having spoke, _665The shell he proffered, and Apollo took;

85. And gave him in return the glittering lash, Installing him as herdsman;--from the lookOf Mercury then laughed a joyous flash. And then Apollo with the plectrum strook _670The chords, and from beneath his hands a crashOf mighty sounds rushed up, whose music shookThe soul with sweetness, and like an adeptHis sweeter voice a just accordance kept. 

86. The herd went wandering o'er the divine mead, _675Whilst these most beautiful Sons of JupiterWon their swift way up to the snowy headOf white Olympus, with the joyous lyreSoothing their journey; and their father dreadGathered them both into familiar _680Affection sweet, --and then, and now, and ever, Hermes must love Him of the Golden Quiver, 87. To whom he gave the lyre that sweetly sounded, Which skilfully he held and played thereon. He piped the while, and far and wide rebounded _685The echo of his pipings; every oneOf the Olympians sat with joy astounded;While he conceived another piece of fun, One of his old tricks--which the God of DayPerceiving, said:--'I fear thee, Son of May;-- _690

88. 'I fear thee and thy sly chameleon spirit, Lest thou should steal my lyre and crooked bow;This glory and power thou dost from Jove inherit, To teach all craft upon the earth below;Thieves love and worship thee--it is thy merit _695To make all mortal business ebb and flowBy roguery:--now, Hermes, if you dareBy sacred Styx a mighty oath to swear

89. 'That you will never rob me, you will doA thing extremely pleasing to my heart. ' _700Then Mercury swore by the Stygian dew, That he would never steal his bow or dart, Or lay his hands on what to him was due, Or ever would employ his powerful artAgainst his Pythian fane. Then Phoebus swore _705There was no God or Man whom he loved more. 

90. 'And I will give thee as a good-will token, The beautiful wand of wealth and happiness;A perfect three-leaved rod of gold unbroken, Whose magic will thy footsteps ever bless; _710And whatsoever by Jove's voice is spokenOf earthly or divine from its recess, It, like a loving soul, to thee will speak, And more than this, do thou forbear to seek. 

91. 'For, dearest child, the divinations high _715Which thou requirest, 'tis unlawful everThat thou, or any other deityShould understand--and vain were the endeavour;For they are hidden in Jove's mind, and I, In trust of them, have sworn that I would never _720Betray the counsels of Jove's inmost willTo any God--the oath was terrible. 

92. 'Then, golden-wanded brother, ask me notTo speak the fates by Jupiter designed;But be it mine to tell their various lot _725To the unnumbered tribes of human-kind. Let good to these, and ill to those be wroughtAs I dispense--but he who comes consignedBy voice and wings of perfect auguryTo my great shrine, shall find avail in me. _730

93. 'Him will I not deceive, but will assist;But he who comes relying on such birdsAs chatter vainly, who would strain and twistThe purpose of the Gods with idle words, And deems their knowledge light, he shall have missed _735His road--whilst I among my other hoardsHis gifts deposit. Yet, O son of May, I have another wondrous thing to say. 

96. 'There are three Fates, three virgin Sisters, whoRejoicing in their wind-outspeeding wings, _740Their heads with flour snowed over white and new, Sit in a vale round which Parnassus flingsIts circling skirts--from these I have learned trueVaticinations of remotest things. My father cared not. Whilst they search out dooms, _745They sit apart and feed on honeycombs. 

95. 'They, having eaten the fresh honey, growDrunk with divine enthusiasm, and utterWith earnest willingness the truth they know;But if deprived of that sweet food, they mutter _750All plausible delusions;--these to youI give;--if you inquire, they will not stutter;Delight your own soul with them:--any manYou would instruct may profit if he can. 

96. 'Take these and the fierce oxen, Maia's child-- _755O'er many a horse and toil-enduring mule, O'er jagged-jawed lions, and the wildWhite-tusked boars, o'er all, by field or pool, Of cattle which the mighty Mother mildNourishes in her bosom, thou shalt rule-- _760Thou dost alone the veil from death uplift--Thou givest not--yet this is a great gift. '

97. Thus King Apollo loved the child of MayIn truth, and Jove covered their love with joy. Hermes with Gods and Men even from that day _765Mingled, and wrought the latter much annoy, And little profit, going far astrayThrough the dun night. Farewell, delightful Boy, Of Jove and Maia sprung, --never by me, Nor thou, nor other songs, shall unremembered be. _770

NOTES:_13 cow-stealing]qy. Cattle-stealing?_57 stony Boscombe manuscript. Harvard manuscript; strong edition 1824. _252 neighbouring]neighbour Harvard manuscript. _336 hurl Harvard manuscript, editions 1839; haul edition 1824. _402 Round]Roused edition 1824 only. _488 wrath]ruth Harvard manuscript. _580 heifer-stealing]heifer-killing Harvard manuscript. _673 and like 1839, 1st edition; as of edition 1824, Harvard manuscript. _713 loving]living cj. Rossetti. _761 from Harvard manuscript; of editions 1824, 1839. _764 their love with joy Harvard manuscript; them with love and joy, editions 1824, 1839. _767 going]wandering Harvard manuscript. 

***

HOMER'S HYMN TO CASTOR AND POLLUX. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition; dated1818. ]

Ye wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove, Whom the fair-ankled Leda, mixed in loveWith mighty Saturn's Heaven-obscuring Child, On Taygetus, that lofty mountain wild, Brought forth in joy: mild Pollux, void of blame, _5And steed-subduing Castor, heirs of fame. These are the Powers who earth-born mortals saveAnd ships, whose flight is swift along the wave. When wintry tempests o'er the savage seaAre raging, and the sailors tremblingly _10Call on the Twins of Jove with prayer and vow, Gathered in fear upon the lofty prow, And sacrifice with snow-white lambs, --the windAnd the huge billow bursting close behind, Even then beneath the weltering waters bear _15The staggering ship--they suddenly appear, On yellow wings rushing athwart the sky, And lull the blasts in mute tranquillity, And strew the waves on the white Ocean's bed, Fair omen of the voyage; from toil and dread _20The sailors rest, rejoicing in the sight, And plough the quiet sea in safe delight. 

NOTE:_6 steed-subduing emend. Rossetti; steel-subduing 1839, 2nd edition. 

***

HOMER'S HYMN TO THE MOON. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition;dated 1818. ]

Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody, Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsySing the wide-winged Moon! Around the earth, From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth, Far light is scattered--boundless glory springs; _5Where'er she spreads her many-beaming wingsThe lampless air glows round her golden crown. 

But when the Moon divine from Heaven is goneUnder the sea, her beams within abide, Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean's tide, _10Clothing her form in garments glittering far, And having yoked to her immortal carThe beam-invested steeds whose necks on highCurve back, she drives to a remoter skyA western Crescent, borne impetuously. _15Then is made full the circle of her light, And as she grows, her beams more bright and brightAre poured from Heaven, where she is hovering then, A wonder and a sign to mortal men. 

The Son of Saturn with this glorious Power _20Mingled in love and sleep--to whom she borePandeia, a bright maid of beauty rareAmong the Gods, whose lives eternal are. 

Hail Queen, great Moon, white-armed Divinity, Fair-haired and favourable! thus with thee _25My song beginning, by its music sweetShall make immortal many a glorious featOf demigods, with lovely lips, so wellWhich minstrels, servants of the Muses, tell. 

***

HOMER'S HYMN TO THE SUN. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition;dated 1818. ]

Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once moreTo the bright Sun, thy hymn of music pour;Whom to the child of star-clad Heaven and EarthEuryphaessa, large-eyed nymph, brought forth;Euryphaessa, the famed sister fair _5Of great Hyperion, who to him did bearA race of loveliest children; the young Morn, Whose arms are like twin roses newly born, The fair-haired Moon, and the immortal Sun, Who borne by heavenly steeds his race doth run _10Unconquerably, illuming the abodesOf mortal Men and the eternal Gods. 

Fiercely look forth his awe-inspiring eyes, Beneath his golden helmet, whence ariseAnd are shot forth afar, clear beams of light; _15His countenance, with radiant glory bright, Beneath his graceful locks far shines around, And the light vest with which his limbs are bound, Of woof aethereal delicately twined, Glows in the stream of the uplifting wind. _20His rapid steeds soon bear him to the West;Where their steep flight his hands divine arrest, And the fleet car with yoke of gold, which heSends from bright Heaven beneath the shadowy sea. 

***

HOMER'S HYMN TO THE EARTH: MOTHER OF ALL. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition;dated 1818. ]

O universal Mother, who dost keepFrom everlasting thy foundations deep, Eldest of things, Great Earth, I sing of thee!All shapes that have their dwelling in the sea, All things that fly, or on the ground divine _5Live, move, and there are nourished--these are thine;These from thy wealth thou dost sustain; from theeFair babes are born, and fruits on every treeHang ripe and large, revered Divinity!

The life of mortal men beneath thy sway _10Is held; thy power both gives and takes away!Happy are they whom thy mild favours nourish;All things unstinted round them grow and flourish. For them, endures the life-sustaining fieldIts load of harvest, and their cattle yield _15Large increase, and their house with wealth is filled. Such honoured dwell in cities fair and free, The homes of lovely women, prosperously;Their sons exult in youth's new budding gladness, And their fresh daughters free from care or sadness, _20With bloom-inwoven dance and happy song, On the soft flowers the meadow-grass among, Leap round them sporting--such delights by theeAre given, rich Power, revered Divinity. 

Mother of gods, thou Wife of starry Heaven, _25Farewell! be thou propitious, and be givenA happy life for this brief melody, Nor thou nor other songs shall unremembered be. 

***

HOMER'S HYMN TO MINERVA. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition;dated 1818. ]

I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes, Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise, Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid, Revered and mighty; from his awful headWhom Jove brought forth, in warlike armour dressed, _5Golden, all radiant! wonder strange possessedThe everlasting Gods that Shape to see, Shaking a javelin keen, impetuouslyRush from the crest of Aegis-bearing Jove;Fearfully Heaven was shaken, and did move _10Beneath the might of the Cerulean-eyed;Earth dreadfully resounded, far and wide;And, lifted from its depths, the sea swelled highIn purple billows, the tide suddenlyStood still, and great Hyperion's son long time _15Checked his swift steeds, till, where she stood sublime, Pallas from her immortal shoulders threwThe arms divine; wise Jove rejoiced to view. Child of the Aegis-bearer, hail to thee, Nor thine nor others' praise shall unremembered be. _20

***

HOMER'S HYMN TO VENUS. 

[Published by Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862; dated 1818. ]

[VERSES 1-55, WITH SOME OMISSIONS. ]

Muse, sing the deeds of golden Aphrodite, Who wakens with her smile the lulled delightOf sweet desire, taming the eternal kingsOf Heaven, and men, and all the living thingsThat fleet along the air, or whom the sea, _5Or earth, with her maternal ministry, Nourish innumerable, thy delightAll seek ... O crowned Aphrodite!Three spirits canst thou not deceive or quell:--Minerva, child of Jove, who loves too well _10Fierce war and mingling combat, and the fameOf glorious deeds, to heed thy gentle flame. Diana ... Golden-shafted queen, Is tamed not by thy smiles; the shadows greenOf the wild woods, the bow, the... _15And piercing cries amid the swift pursuitOf beasts among waste mountains, --such delightIs hers, and men who know and do the right. Nor Saturn's first-born daughter, Vesta chaste, Whom Neptune and Apollo wooed the last, _20Such was the will of aegis-bearing Jove;But sternly she refused the ills of Love, And by her mighty Father's head she sworeAn oath not unperformed, that evermoreA virgin she would live mid deities _25Divine: her father, for such gentle tiesRenounced, gave glorious gifts--thus in his hallShe sits and feeds luxuriously. O'er allIn every fane, her honours first ariseFrom men--the eldest of Divinities. _30

These spirits she persuades not, nor deceives, But none beside escape, so well she weavesHer unseen toils; nor mortal men, nor godsWho live secure in their unseen abodes. She won the soul of him whose fierce delight _35Is thunder--first in glory and in might. And, as she willed, his mighty mind deceiving, With mortal limbs his deathless limbs inweaving, Concealed him from his spouse and sister fair, Whom to wise Saturn ancient Rhea bare. _40but in return, In Venus Jove did soft desire awaken, That by her own enchantments overtaken, She might, no more from human union free, Burn for a nursling of mortality. _45For once amid the assembled Deities, The laughter-loving Venus from her eyes

Shot forth the light of a soft starlight smile, And boasting said, that she, secure the while, Could bring at Will to the assembled Gods _50The mortal tenants of earth's dark abodes, And mortal offspring from a deathless stemShe could produce in scorn and spite of them. Therefore he poured desire into her breastOf young Anchises, _55Feeding his herds among the mossy fountainsOf the wide Ida's many-folded mountains, --Whom Venus saw, and loved, and the love clungLike wasting fire her senses wild among. 

***

THE CYCLOPS. 

A SATYRIC DRAMA TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; dated 1819. Amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian there is a copy, 'practically complete, ' which has been collated by Mr. C. D. Locock. See"Examination", etc. , 1903, pages 64-70. 'Though legible throughout, andcomparatively free from corrections, it has the appearance of being afirst draft' (Locock). ]

SILENUS. ULYSSES. CHORUS OF SATYRS. THE CYCLOPS. 

SILENUS:O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both nowAnd ere these limbs were overworn with age, Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled'stThe mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afarBy the strange madness Juno sent upon thee; _5Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth, When I stood foot by foot close to thy side, No unpropitious fellow-combatant, And, driving through his shield my winged spear, Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now, _10Is it a dream of which I speak to thee?By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies!And now I suffer more than all before. For when I heard that Juno had devisedA tedious voyage for you, I put to sea _15With all my children quaint in search of you, And I myself stood on the beaked prowAnd fixed the naked mast; and all my boysLeaning upon their oars, with splash and strainMade white with foam the green and purple sea, -- _20And so we sought you, king. We were sailingNear Malea, when an eastern wind arose, And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock;The one-eyed children of the Ocean God, The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit, _25On this wild shore, their solitary caves, And one of these, named Polypheme. Has caught usTo be his slaves; and so, for all delightOf Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody, We keep this lawless giant's wandering flocks. _30My sons indeed on far declivities, Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep, But I remain to fill the water-casks, Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministeringSome impious and abominable meal _35To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it!And now I must scrape up the littered floorWith this great iron rake, so to receiveMy absent master and his evening sheepIn a cave neat and clean. Even now I see _40My children tending the flocks hitherward. Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measuresEven now the same, as when with dance and songYou brought young Bacchus to Althaea's halls?

NOTE:_23 waste B. ; wild 1824; 'cf. 26, where waste is cancelled for wild' (Locock). 

CHORUS OF SATYRS:

STROPHE:Where has he of race divine _45Wandered in the winding rocks?Here the air is calm and fineFor the father of the flocks;--Here the grass is soft and sweet, And the river-eddies meet _50In the trough beside the cave, Bright as in their fountain wave. --Neither here, nor on the dewOf the lawny uplands feeding?Oh, you come!--a stone at you _55Will I throw to mend your breeding;--Get along, you horned thing, Wild, seditious, rambling!

EPODE:An Iacchic melodyTo the golden Aphrodite _60Will I lift, as erst did ISeeking her and her delightWith the Maenads, whose white feetTo the music glance and fleet. Bacchus, O beloved, where, _65Shaking wide thy yellow hair, Wanderest thou alone, afar?To the one-eyed Cyclops, we, Who by right thy servants are, Minister in misery, _70In these wretched goat-skins clad, Far from thy delights and thee. 

SILENUS:Be silent, sons; command the slaves to driveThe gathered flocks into the rock-roofed cave. 

CHORUS:Go! But what needs this serious haste, O father? _75

SILENUS:I see a Grecian vessel on the coast, And thence the rowers with some generalApproaching to this cave. --About their necksHang empty vessels, as they wanted food, And water-flasks. --Oh, miserable strangers! _80Whence come they, that they know not what and whoMy master is, approaching in ill hourThe inhospitable roof of Polypheme, And the Cyclopian jaw-bone, man-destroying?Be silent, Satyrs, while I ask and hear _85Whence coming, they arrive the Aetnean hill. 

ULYSSES:Friends, can you show me some clear water-spring, The remedy of our thirst? Will any oneFurnish with food seamen in want of it?Ha! what is this? We seem to be arrived _90At the blithe court of Bacchus. I observeThis sportive band of Satyrs near the caves. First let me greet the elder. --Hail!

SILENUS:Hail thou, O Stranger! tell thy country and thy race. 

ULYSSES:The Ithacan Ulysses and the king _95Of Cephalonia. 

SILENUS:Oh! I know the man, Wordy and shrewd, the son of Sisyphus. 

ULYSSES:I am the same, but do not rail upon me. --

SILENUS:Whence sailing do you come to Sicily?

ULYSSES:From Ilion, and from the Trojan toils. _100

SILENUS:How, touched you not at your paternal shore?

ULYSSES:The strength of tempests bore me here by force. 

SILENUS:The self-same accident occurred to me. 

ULYSSES:Were you then driven here by stress of weather?

SILENUS:Following the Pirates who had kidnapped Bacchus. _105

ULYSSES:What land is this, and who inhabit it?--

SILENUS:Aetna, the loftiest peak in Sicily. 

ULYSSES:And are there walls, and tower-surrounded towns?

SILENUS:There are not. --These lone rocks are bare of men. 

ULYSSES:And who possess the land? the race of beasts? _110

SILENUS:Cyclops, who live in caverns, not in houses. 

ULYSSES:Obeying whom? Or is the state popular?

SILENUS:Shepherds: no one obeys any in aught. 

ULYSSES:How live they? do they sow the corn of Ceres?

SILENUS:On milk and cheese, and on the flesh of sheep. _115

ULYSSES:Have they the Bromian drink from the vine's stream?

SILENUS:Ah! no; they live in an ungracious land. 

ULYSSES:And are they just to strangers?--hospitable?

SILENUS:They think the sweetest thing a stranger bringsIs his own flesh. 

ULYSSES:What! do they eat man's flesh? _120

SILENUS:No one comes here who is not eaten up. 

ULYSSES:The Cyclops now--where is he? Not at home?

SILENUS:Absent on Aetna, hunting with his dogs. 

ULYSSES:Know'st thou what thou must do to aid us hence?

SILENUS:I know not: we will help you all we can. _125

ULYSSES:Provide us food, of which we are in want. 

SILENUS:Here is not anything, as I said, but meat. 

ULYSSES:But meat is a sweet remedy for hunger. 

SILENUS:Cow's milk there is, and store of curdled cheese. 

ULYSSES:Bring out:--I would see all before I bargain. _130

SILENUS:But how much gold will you engage to give?

ULYSSES:I bring no gold, but Bacchic juice. 

SILENUS:Oh, joy!Tis long since these dry lips were wet with wine. 

ULYSSES:Maron, the son of the God, gave it me. 

SILENUS:Whom I have nursed a baby in my arms. _135

ULYSSES:The son of Bacchus, for your clearer knowledge. 

SILENUS:Have you it now?--or is it in the ship?

ULYSSES:Old man, this skin contains it, which you see. 

SILENUS:Why, this would hardly be a mouthful for me. 

ULYSSES:Nay, twice as much as you can draw from thence. _140

SILENUS:You speak of a fair fountain, sweet to me. 

ULYSSES:Would you first taste of the unmingled wine?

SILENUS:'Tis just--tasting invites the purchaser. 

ULYSSES:Here is the cup, together with the skin. 

SILENUS:Pour: that the draught may fillip my remembrance. 

ULYSSES:See! _145

SILENUS:Papaiapax! what a sweet smell it has!

ULYSSES:You see it then?--

SILENUS:By Jove, no! but I smell it. 

ULYSSES:Taste, that you may not praise it in words only. 

SILENUS:Babai! Great Bacchus calls me forth to dance!Joy! joy!

ULYSSES:Did it flow sweetly down your throat? _150

SILENUS:So that it tingled to my very nails. 

ULYSSES:And in addition I will give you gold. 

SILENUS:Let gold alone! only unlock the cask. 

ULYSSES:Bring out some cheeses now, or a young goat. 

SILENUS:That will I do, despising any master. _155Yes, let me drink one cup, and I will giveAll that the Cyclops feed upon their mountains. 

... 

CHORUS:Ye have taken Troy and laid your hands on Helen?

ULYSSES:And utterly destroyed the race of Priam. 

... 

SILENUS:The wanton wretch! she was bewitched to see _160The many-coloured anklets and the chainOf woven gold which girt the neck of Paris, And so she left that good man Menelaus. There should be no more women in the worldBut such as are reserved for me alone. -- _165See, here are sheep, and here are goats, Ulysses, Here are unsparing cheeses of pressed milk;Take them; depart with what good speed ye may;First leaving my reward, the Bacchic dewOf joy-inspiring grapes. 

ULYSSES:Ah me! Alas! _170What shall we do? the Cyclops is at hand!Old man, we perish! whither can we fly?

SILENUS:Hide yourselves quick within that hollow rock. 

ULYSSES:'Twere perilous to fly into the net. 

SILENUS:The cavern has recesses numberless; _175Hide yourselves quick. 

ULYSSES:That will I never do!The mighty Troy would be indeed disgracedIf I should fly one man. How many timesHave I withstood, with shield immovable. Ten thousand Phrygians!--if I needs must die, _180Yet will I die with glory;--if I live, The praise which I have gained will yet remain. 

SILENUS:What, ho! assistance, comrades, haste, assistance!

[THE CYCLOPS, SILENUS, ULYSSES; CHORUS. ]

CYCLOPS:What is this tumult? Bacchus is not here, Nor tympanies nor brazen castanets. _185How are my young lambs in the cavern? MilkingTheir dams or playing by their sides? And isThe new cheese pressed into the bulrush baskets?Speak! I'll beat some of you till you rain tears--Look up, not downwards when I speak to you. _190

SILENUS:See! I now gape at Jupiter himself;I stare upon Orion and the stars. 

CYCLOPS:Well, is the dinner fitly cooked and laid?

SILENUS:All ready, if your throat is ready too. 

CYCLOPS:Are the bowls full of milk besides?

SILENUS:O'er-brimming; _195So you may drink a tunful if you will. 

CYCLOPS:Is it ewe's milk or cow's milk, or both mixed?--

SILENUS:Both, either; only pray don't swallow me. 

CYCLOPS:By no means. --... What is this crowd I see beside the stalls? _200Outlaws or thieves? for near my cavern-homeI see my young lambs coupled two by twoWith willow bands; mixed with my cheeses lieTheir implements; and this old fellow hereHas his bald head broken with stripes. 

SILENUS:Ah me! _205I have been beaten till I burn with fever. 

CYCLOPS:By whom? Who laid his fist upon your head?

SILENUS:Those men, because I would not suffer themTo steal your goods. 

CYCLOPS:Did not the rascals knowI am a God, sprung from the race of Heaven? _210

SILENUS:I told them so, but they bore off your things, And ate the cheese in spite of all I said, And carried out the lambs--and said, moreover, They'd pin you down with a three-cubit collar, And pull your vitals out through your one eye, _215Furrow your back with stripes, then, binding you, Throw you as ballast into the ship's hold, And then deliver you, a slave, to moveEnormous rocks, or found a vestibule. 

NOTE:_216 Furrow B. ; Torture (evidently misread for Furrow) 1824. 

CYCLOPS:In truth? Nay, haste, and place in order quicklyThe cooking-knives, and heap upon the hearth, _221And kindle it, a great faggot of wood. --As soon as they are slaughtered, they shall fillMy belly, broiling warm from the live coals, Or boiled and seethed within the bubbling caldron. _225I am quite sick of the wild mountain game;Of stags and lions I have gorged enough, And I grow hungry for the flesh of men. 

SILENUS:Nay, master, something new is very pleasantAfter one thing forever, and of late _230Very few strangers have approached our cave. 

ULYSSES:Hear, Cyclops, a plain tale on the other side. We, wanting to buy food, came from our shipInto the neighbourhood of your cave, and hereThis old Silenus gave us in exchange _235These lambs for wine, the which he took and drank, And all by mutual compact, without force. There is no word of truth in what he says, For slyly he was selling all your store. 

SILENUS:I? May you perish, wretch--

ULYSSES:If I speak false! _240

SILENUS:Cyclops, I swear by Neptune who begot thee, By mighty Triton and by Nereus old, Calypso and the glaucous Ocean Nymphs, The sacred waves and all the race of fishes--Be these the witnesses, my dear sweet master, _245My darling little Cyclops, that I neverGave any of your stores to these false strangers;--If I speak false may those whom most I love, My children, perish wretchedly!

CHORUS:There stop!I saw him giving these things to the strangers. _250If I speak false, then may my father perish, But do not thou wrong hospitality. 

CYCLOPS:You lie! I swear that he is juster farThan Rhadamanthus--I trust more in him. But let me ask, whence have ye sailed, O strangers? _255Who are you? And what city nourished ye?

ULYSSES:Our race is Ithacan--having destroyedThe town of Troy, the tempests of the seaHave driven us on thy land, O Polypheme. 

CYCLOPS:What, have ye shared in the unenvied spoil _260Of the false Helen, near Scamander's stream?

ULYSSES:The same, having endured a woful toil. 

CYCLOPS:Oh, basest expedition! sailed ye notFrom Greece to Phrygia for one woman's sake?

ULYSSES:'Twas the Gods' work--no mortal was in fault. _265But, O great Offspring of the Ocean-King, We pray thee and admonish thee with freedom, That thou dost spare thy friends who visit thee, And place no impious food within thy jaws. For in the depths of Greece we have upreared _270Temples to thy great Father, which are allHis homes. The sacred bay of TaenarusRemains inviolate, and each dim recessScooped high on the Malean promontory, And aery Sunium's silver-veined crag, _275Which divine Pallas keeps unprofaned ever, The Gerastian asylums, and whate'erWithin wide Greece our enterprise has keptFrom Phrygian contumely; and in whichYou have a common care, for you inhabit _280The skirts of Grecian land, under the rootsOf Aetna and its crags, spotted with fire. Turn then to converse under human laws, Receive us shipwrecked suppliants, and provideFood, clothes, and fire, and hospitable gifts; _285Nor fixing upon oxen-piercing spitsOur limbs, so fill your belly and your jaws. Priam's wide land has widowed Greece enough;And weapon-winged murder leaped togetherEnough of dead, and wives are husbandless, _290And ancient women and gray fathers wailTheir childless age;--if you should roast the rest--And 'tis a bitter feast that you prepare--Where then would any turn? Yet be persuaded;Forgo the lust of your jaw-bone; prefer _295Pious humanity to wicked will:Many have bought too dear their evil joys. 

SILENUS:Let me advise you, do not spare a morselOf all his flesh. If you should eat his tongueYou would become most eloquent, O Cyclops. _300

CYCLOPS:Wealth, my good fellow, is the wise man's God, All other things are a pretence and boast. What are my father's ocean promontories, The sacred rocks whereon he dwells, to me?Stranger, I laugh to scorn Jove's thunderbolt, _305I know not that his strength is more than mine. As to the rest I care not. --When he poursRain from above, I have a close pavilionUnder this rock, in which I lie supine, Feasting on a roast calf or some wild beast, _310And drinking pans of milk, and gloriouslyEmulating the thunder of high Heaven. And when the Thracian wind pours down the snow, I wrap my body in the skins of beasts, Kindle a fire, and bid the snow whirl on. _315The earth, by force, whether it will or no, Bringing forth grass, fattens my flocks and herds, Which, to what other God but to myselfAnd this great belly, first of deities, Should I be bound to sacrifice? I well know _320The wise man's only Jupiter is this, To eat and drink during his little day, And give himself no care. And as for thoseWho complicate with laws the life of man, I freely give them tears for their reward. _325I will not cheat my soul of its delight, Or hesitate in dining upon you:--And that I may be quit of all demands, These are my hospitable gifts;--fierce fireAnd yon ancestral caldron, which o'er-bubbling _330Shall finely cook your miserable flesh. Creep in!--

... 

ULYSSES:Ai! ai! I have escaped the Trojan toils, I have escaped the sea, and now I fallUnder the cruel grasp of one impious man. _335O Pallas, Mistress, Goddess, sprung from Jove, Now, now, assist me! Mightier toils than TroyAre these;--I totter on the chasms of peril;--And thou who inhabitest the thronesOf the bright stars, look, hospitable Jove, _340Upon this outrage of thy deity, Otherwise be considered as no God!

CHORUS (ALONE):For your gaping gulf and your gullet wide, The ravin is ready on every side, The limbs of the strangers are cooked and done; _345There is boiled meat, and roast meat, and meat from the coal, You may chop it, and tear it, and gnash it for fun, An hairy goat's-skin contains the whole. Let me but escape, and ferry me o'erThe stream of your wrath to a safer shore. _350The Cyclops Aetnean is cruel and bold, He murders the strangersThat sit on his hearth, And dreads no avengersTo rise from the earth. _355He roasts the men before they are cold, He snatches them broiling from the coal, And from the caldron pulls them whole, And minces their flesh and gnaws their boneWith his cursed teeth, till all be gone. _360Farewell, foul pavilion:Farewell, rites of dread!The Cyclops vermilion, With slaughter uncloying, Now feasts on the dead, _365In the flesh of strangers joying!

NOTE:_344 ravin Rossetti; spelt ravine in B. , editions 1824, 1839. 

ULYSSES:O Jupiter! I saw within the caveHorrible things; deeds to be feigned in words, But not to be believed as being done. 

NOTE:_369 not to be believed B. ; not believed 1824. 

CHORUS:What! sawest thou the impious Polypheme _370Feasting upon your loved companions now?

ULYSSES:Selecting two, the plumpest of the crowd, He grasped them in his hands. --

CHORUS:Unhappy man!

... 

ULYSSES:Soon as we came into this craggy place, Kindling a fire, he cast on the broad hearth _375The knotty limbs of an enormous oak, Three waggon-loads at least, and then he strewedUpon the ground, beside the red firelight, His couch of pine-leaves; and he milked the cows, And pouring forth the white milk, filled a bowl _380Three cubits wide and four in depth, as muchAs would contain ten amphorae, and bound itWith ivy wreaths; then placed upon the fireA brazen pot to boil, and made red hotThe points of spits, not sharpened with the sickle _385But with a fruit tree bough, and with the jawsOf axes for Aetnean slaughterings. And when this God-abandoned Cook of HellHad made all ready, he seized two of usAnd killed them in a kind of measured manner; _390For he flung one against the brazen rivetsOf the huge caldron, and seized the otherBy the foot's tendon, and knocked out his brainsUpon the sharp edge of the craggy stone:Then peeled his flesh with a great cooking-knife _395And put him down to roast. The other's limbsHe chopped into the caldron to be boiled. And I, with the tears raining from my eyes, Stood near the Cyclops, ministering to him;The rest, in the recesses of the cave, _400Clung to the rock like bats, bloodless with fear. When he was filled with my companions' flesh, He threw himself upon the ground and sentA loathsome exhalation from his maw. Then a divine thought came to me. I filled _405The cup of Maron, and I offered himTo taste, and said:--'Child of the Ocean God, Behold what drink the vines of Greece produce, The exultation and the joy of Bacchus. 'He, satiated with his unnatural food, _410Received it, and at one draught drank it off, And taking my hand, praised me:--'Thou hast givenA sweet draught after a sweet meal, dear guest. 'And I, perceiving that it pleased him, filledAnother cup, well knowing that the wine _415Would wound him soon and take a sure revenge. And the charm fascinated him, and IPlied him cup after cup, until the drinkHad warmed his entrails, and he sang aloudIn concert with my wailing fellow-seamen _420A hideous discord--and the cavern rung. I have stolen out, so that if you willYou may achieve my safety and your own. But say, do you desire, or not, to flyThis uncompanionable man, and dwell _425As was your wont among the Grecian NymphsWithin the fanes of your beloved God?Your father there within agrees to it, But he is weak and overcome with wine, And caught as if with bird-lime by the cup, _430He claps his wings and crows in doting joy. You who are young escape with me, and findBacchus your ancient friend; unsuited heTo this rude Cyclops. 

NOTES:_382 ten cj. Swinburne; four 1824; four cancelled for ten (possibly) B. _387 I confess I do not understand this. --[SHELLEY'S NOTE. ]_416 take]grant (as alternative) B. 

CHORUS:Oh my dearest friend, That I could see that day, and leave for ever _435The impious Cyclops. 

... 

ULYSSES:Listen then what a punishment I haveFor this fell monster, how secure a flightFrom your hard servitude. 

CHORUS:O sweeter farThan is the music of an Asian lyre _440Would be the news of Polypheme destroyed. 

ULYSSES:Delighted with the Bacchic drink he goesTo call his brother Cyclops--who inhabitA village upon Aetna not far off. 

CHORUS:I understand, catching him when alone _445You think by some measure to dispatch him, Or thrust him from the precipice. 

NOTE:_446 by some measure 1824; with some measures B. 

ULYSSES:Oh no;Nothing of that kind; my device is subtle. 

CHORUS:How then? I heard of old that thou wert wise. 

ULYSSES:I will dissuade him from this plan, by saying _450It were unwise to give the CyclopsesThis precious drink, which if enjoyed aloneWould make life sweeter for a longer time. When, vanquished by the Bacchic power, he sleeps, There is a trunk of olive wood within, _455Whose point having made sharp with this good swordI will conceal in fire, and when I seeIt is alight, will fix it, burning yet, Within the socket of the Cyclops' eyeAnd melt it out with fire--as when a man _460Turns by its handle a great auger round, Fitting the framework of a ship with beams, So will I, in the Cyclops' fiery eyeTurn round the brand and dry the pupil up. 

CHORUS:Joy! I am mad with joy at your device. _465

ULYSSES:And then with you, my friends, and the old man, We'll load the hollow depth of our black ship, And row with double strokes from this dread shore. 

CHORUS:May I, as in libations to a God, Share in the blinding him with the red brand? _470I would have some communion in his death. 

ULYSSES:Doubtless: the brand is a great brand to hold. 

CHORUS:Oh! I would lift an hundred waggon-loads, If like a wasp's nest I could scoop the eye outOf the detested Cyclops. 

ULYSSES:Silence now! _475Ye know the close device--and when I call, Look ye obey the masters of the craft. I will not save myself and leave behindMy comrades in the cave: I might escape, Having got clear from that obscure recess, _480But 'twere unjust to leave in jeopardyThe dear companions who sailed here with me. 

CHORUS:Come! who is first, that with his handWill urge down the burning brandThrough the lids, and quench and pierce _485The Cyclops' eye so fiery fierce?

SEMICHORUS 1 [SONG WITHIN]:Listen! listen! he is coming, A most hideous discord humming. Drunken, museless, awkward, yelling, Far along his rocky dwelling; _490Let us with some comic spellTeach the yet unteachable. By all means he must be blinded, If my counsel be but minded. 

SEMICHORUS 2:Happy thou made odorous _495With the dew which sweet grapes weep, To the village hastening thus, Seek the vines that soothe to sleep;Having first embraced thy friend, Thou in luxury without end, _500With the strings of yellow hair, Of thy voluptuous leman fair, Shalt sit playing on a bed!--Speak! what door is opened?

NOTES:_495 thou cj. Swinburne, Rossetti; those 1824; 'the word is doubtful in B. ' (Locock). _500 Thou B. ; There 1824. 

CYCLOPS:Ha! ha! ha! I'm full of wine, _505Heavy with the joy divine, With the young feast oversated;Like a merchant's vessel freightedTo the water's edge, my cropIs laden to the gullet's top. _510The fresh meadow grass of springTempts me forth thus wanderingTo my brothers on the mountains, Who shall share the wine's sweet fountains. Bring the cask, O stranger, bring! _515

NOTE:_508 merchant's 1824; merchant B. 

CHORUS:One with eyes the fairestCometh from his dwelling;Some one loves thee, rarestBright beyond my telling. In thy grace thou shinest _520Like some nymph divinestIn her caverns dewy:--All delights pursue thee, Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing, Shall thy head be wreathing. _525

ULYSSES:Listen, O Cyclops, for I am well skilledIn Bacchus, whom I gave thee of to drink. 

CYCLOPS:What sort of God is Bacchus then accounted?

ULYSSES:The greatest among men for joy of life. 

CYCLOPS:I gulped him down with very great delight. _530

ULYSSES:This is a God who never injures men. 

CYCLOPS:How does the God like living in a skin?

ULYSSES:He is content wherever he is put. 

CYCLOPS:Gods should not have their body in a skin. 

ULYSSES:If he gives joy, what is his skin to you? _535

CYCLOPS:I hate the skin, but love the wine within. 

ULYSSES:Stay here now: drink, and make your spirit glad. 

NOTE:_537 Stay here now, drink B. ; stay here, now drink 1824. 

CYCLOPS:Should I not share this liquor with my brothers?

ULYSSES:Keep it yourself, and be more honoured so. 

CYCLOPS:I were more useful, giving to my friends. _540

ULYSSES:But village mirth breeds contests, broils, and blows. 

CYCLOPS:When I am drunk none shall lay hands on me. --

ULYSSES:A drunken man is better within doors. 

CYCLOPS:He is a fool, who drinking, loves not mirth. 

ULYSSES:But he is wise, who drunk, remains at home. _545

CYCLOPS:What shall I do, Silenus? Shall I stay?

SILENUS:Stay--for what need have you of pot companions?

CYCLOPS:Indeed this place is closely carpetedWith flowers and grass. 

SILENUS:And in the sun-warm noon'Tis sweet to drink. Lie down beside me now, _550Placing your mighty sides upon the ground. 

CYCLOPS:What do you put the cup behind me for?

SILENUS:That no one here may touch it. 

CYCLOPS:Thievish One!You want to drink;--here place it in the midst. And thou, O stranger, tell how art thou called? _555

ULYSSES:My name is Nobody. What favour nowShall I receive to praise you at your hands?

CYCLOPS:I'll feast on you the last of your companions. 

ULYSSES:You grant your guest a fair reward, O Cyclops. 

CYCLOPS:Ha! what is this? Stealing the wine, you rogue! _560

SILENUS:It was this stranger kissing me becauseI looked so beautiful. 

CYCLOPS:You shall repentFor kissing the coy wine that loves you not. 

SILENUS:By Jupiter! you said that I am fair. 

CYCLOPS:Pour out, and only give me the cup full. _565

SILENUS:How is it mixed? let me observe. 

CYCLOPS:Curse you!Give it me so. 

SILENUS:Not till I see you wearThat coronal, and taste the cup to you. 

CYCLOPS:Thou wily traitor!

SILENUS:But the wine is sweet. Ay, you will roar if you are caught in drinking. _570

CYCLOPS:See now, my lip is clean and all my beard. 

SILENUS:Now put your elbow right and drink again. As you see me drink--... 

CYCLOPS:How now?

SILENUS:Ye Gods, what a delicious gulp!

CYCLOPS:Guest, take it;--you pour out the wine for me. _575

ULYSSES:The wine is well accustomed to my hand. 

CYCLOPS:Pour out the wine!

ULYSSES:I pour; only be silent. 

CYCLOPS:Silence is a hard task to him who drinks. 

ULYSSES:Take it and drink it off; leave not a dreg. Oh that the drinker died with his own draught! _580

CYCLOPS:Papai! the vine must be a sapient plant. 

ULYSSES:If you drink much after a mighty feast, Moistening your thirsty maw, you will sleep well;If you leave aught, Bacchus will dry you up. 

CYCLOPS:Ho! ho! I can scarce rise. What pure delight! _585The heavens and earth appear to whirl aboutConfusedly. I see the throne of JoveAnd the clear congregation of the Gods. Now if the Graces tempted me to kissI would not--for the loveliest of them all _590I would not leave this Ganymede. 

SILENUS:Polypheme, I am the Ganymede of Jupiter. 

CYCLOPS:By Jove, you are; I bore you off from Dardanus. 

... 

[ULYSSES AND THE CHORUS. ]

ULYSSES:Come, boys of Bacchus, children of high race, This man within is folded up in sleep, _595And soon will vomit flesh from his fell maw;The brand under the shed thrusts out its smoke, No preparation needs, but to burn outThe monster's eye;--but bear yourselves like men. 

CHORUS:We will have courage like the adamant rock, _600All things are ready for you here; go in, Before our father shall perceive the noise. 

ULYSSES:Vulcan, Aetnean king! burn out with fireThe shining eye of this thy neighbouring monster!And thou, O Sleep, nursling of gloomy Night, _605Descend unmixed on this God-hated beast, And suffer not Ulysses and his comrades, Returning from their famous Trojan toils, To perish by this man, who cares not eitherFor God or mortal; or I needs must think _610That Chance is a supreme divinity, And things divine are subject to her power. 

NOTE:_606 God-hated 1824; God-hating (as an alternative) B. 

CHORUS:Soon a crab the throat will seizeOf him who feeds upon his guest, Fire will burn his lamp-like eyes _615In revenge of such a feast!A great oak stump now is lyingIn the ashes yet undying. Come, Maron, come!Raging let him fix the doom, _620Let him tear the eyelid upOf the Cyclops--that his cupMay be evil!Oh! I long to dance and revelWith sweet Bromian, long desired, _625In loved ivy wreaths attired;Leaving this abandoned home--Will the moment ever come?

ULYSSES:Be silent, ye wild things! Nay, hold your peace, And keep your lips quite close; dare not to breathe, _630Or spit, or e'en wink, lest ye wake the monster, Until his eye be tortured out with fire. 

CHORUS:Nay, we are silent, and we chaw the air. 

ULYSSES:Come now, and lend a hand to the great stakeWithin--it is delightfully red hot. _635

CHORUS:You then command who first should seize the stakeTo burn the Cyclops' eye, that all may shareIn the great enterprise. 

SEMICHORUS 1:We are too far;We cannot at this distance from the doorThrust fire into his eye. 

SEMICHORUS 2:And we just now _640Have become lame! cannot move hand or foot. 

CHORUS:The same thing has occurred to us, --our anklesAre sprained with standing here, I know not how. 

ULYSSES:What, sprained with standing still?

CHORUS:And there is dustOr ashes in our eyes, I know not whence. _645

ULYSSES:Cowardly dogs! ye will not aid me then?

CHORUS:With pitying my own back and my back-bone, And with not wishing all my teeth knocked out, This cowardice comes of itself--but stay, I know a famous Orphic incantation _650To make the brand stick of its own accordInto the skull of this one-eyed son of Earth. 

ULYSSES:Of old I knew ye thus by nature; nowI know ye better. --I will use the aidOf my own comrades. Yet though weak of hand _655Speak cheerfully, that so ye may awakenThe courage of my friends with your blithe words. 

CHORUS:This I will do with peril of my life, And blind you with my exhortations, Cyclops. Hasten and thrust, _660And parch up to dust, The eye of the beastWho feeds on his guest. Burn and blindThe Aetnean hind! _665Scoop and draw, But beware lest he clawYour limbs near his maw. 

CYCLOPS:Ah me! my eyesight is parched up to cinders. 

CHORUS:What a sweet paean! sing me that again! _670

CYCLOPS:Ah me! indeed, what woe has fallen upon me!But, wretched nothings, think ye not to fleeOut of this rock; I, standing at the outlet, Will bar the way and catch you as you pass. 

CHORUS:What are you roaring out, Cyclops?

CYCLOPS:I perish! _675

CHORUS:For you are wicked. 

CYCLOPS:And besides miserable. 

CHORUS:What, did you fall into the fire when drunk?

CYCLOPS:'Twas Nobody destroyed me. 

CHORUS:Why then no oneCan be to blame. 

CYCLOPS:I say 'twas NobodyWho blinded me. 

CHORUS:Why then you are not blind. _680

CYCLOPS:I wish you were as blind as I am. 

CHORUS:Nay, It cannot be that no one made you blind. 

CYCLOPS:You jeer me; where, I ask, is Nobody?

CHORUS:Nowhere, O Cyclops. 

CYCLOPS:It was that stranger ruined me:--the wretch _685First gave me wine and then burned out my eye, For wine is strong and hard to struggle with. Have they escaped, or are they yet within?

CHORUS:They stand under the darkness of the rockAnd cling to it. 

CYCLOPS:At my right hand or left? _690

CHORUS:Close on your right. 

CYCLOPS:Where?

CHORUS:Near the rock itself. You have them. 

CYCLOPS:Oh, misfortune on misfortune!I've cracked my skull. 

CHORUS:Now they escape you--there. 

NOTE:_693 So B. ; Now they escape you there 1824. 

CYCLOPS:Not there, although you say so. 

CHORUS:Not on that side. 

CYCLOPS:Where then?

CHORUS:They creep about you on your left. _695

CYCLOPS:Ah! I am mocked! They jeer me in my ills. 

CHORUS:Not there! he is a little there beyond you. 

CYCLOPS:Detested wretch! where are you?

ULYSSES:Far from youI keep with care this body of Ulysses. 

CYCLOPS:What do you say? You proffer a new name. _700

ULYSSES:My father named me so; and I have takenA full revenge for your unnatural feast;I should have done ill to have burned down TroyAnd not revenged the murder of my comrades. 

CYCLOPS:Ai! ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished; _705It said that I should have my eyesight blindedBy your coming from Troy, yet it foretoldThat you should pay the penalty for thisBy wandering long over the homeless sea. 

ULYSSES:I bid thee weep--consider what I say; _710I go towards the shore to drive my shipTo mine own land, o'er the Sicilian wave. 

CYCLOPS:Not so, if, whelming you with this huge stone, I can crush you and all your men together;I will descend upon the shore, though blind, _715Groping my way adown the steep ravine. 

CHORUS:And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now, Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives. 

***

EPIGRAMS. 

[These four Epigrams were published--numbers 2 and 4 without title--byMrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition. ]

1. --TO STELLA. 

FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. 

Thou wert the morning star among the living, Ere thy fair light had fled;--Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, givingNew splendour to the dead. 

2. --KISSING HELENA. 

FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO. 

Kissing Helena, togetherWith my kiss, my soul beside itCame to my lips, and there I kept it, --For the poor thing had wandered thither, To follow where the kiss should guide it, _5Oh, cruel I, to intercept it!

3. --SPIRIT OF PLATO. 

FROM THE GREEK. 

Eagle! why soarest thou above that tomb?To what sublime and star-ypaven homeFloatest thou?--I am the image of swift Plato's spirit, Ascending heaven; Athens doth inherit _5His corpse below. 

NOTE:_5 doth Boscombe manuscript; does edition 1839. 

4. --CIRCUMSTANCE. 

FROM THE GREEK. 

A man who was about to hang himself, Finding a purse, then threw away his rope;The owner, coming to reclaim his pelf, The halter found; and used it. So is HopeChanged for Despair--one laid upon the shelf, _5We take the other. Under Heaven's high copeFortune is God--all you endure and doDepends on circumstance as much as you. 

***

FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS. 

PROM THE GREEK OF BION. 

[Published by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1876. ]

I mourn Adonis dead--loveliest Adonis--Dead, dead Adonis--and the Loves lament. Sleep no more, Venus, wrapped in purple woof--Wake violet-stoled queen, and weave the crownOf Death, --'tis Misery calls, --for he is dead. _5

The lovely one lies wounded in the mountains, His white thigh struck with the white tooth; he scarceYet breathes; and Venus hangs in agony there. The dark blood wanders o'er his snowy limbs, His eyes beneath their lids are lustreless, _10The rose has fled from his wan lips, and thereThat kiss is dead, which Venus gathers yet. 

A deep, deep wound Adonis... A deeper Venus bears upon her heart. See, his beloved dogs are gathering round-- _15The Oread nymphs are weeping--AphroditeWith hair unbound is wandering through the woods, 'Wildered, ungirt, unsandalled--the thorns pierceHer hastening feet and drink her sacred blood. Bitterly screaming out, she is driven on _20Through the long vales; and her Assyrian boy, Her love, her husband, calls--the purple bloodFrom his struck thigh stains her white navel now, Her bosom, and her neck before like snow. 

Alas for Cytherea--the Loves mourn-- _25The lovely, the beloved is gone!--and nowHer sacred beauty vanishes away. For Venus whilst Adonis lived was fair--Alas! her loveliness is dead with him. The oaks and mountains cry, Ai! ai! Adonis! _30The springs their waters change to tears and weep--The flowers are withered up with grief... 

Ai! ai! ... Adonis is deadEcho resounds ... Adonis dead. Who will weep not thy dreadful woe. O Venus? _35Soon as she saw and knew the mortal woundOf her Adonis--saw the life-blood flowFrom his fair thigh, now wasting, --wailing loudShe clasped him, and cried ... 'Stay, Adonis!Stay, dearest one, ... _40and mix my lips with thine--Wake yet a while, Adonis--oh, but once, That I may kiss thee now for the last time--But for as long as one short kiss may live--Oh, let thy breath flow from thy dying soul _45Even to my mouth and heart, that I may suckThat... '

NOTE:_23 his Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry; her Boscombe manuscript, Forman. 

***

FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BION. 

FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. 

[Published from the Hunt manuscripts by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1876. ]

Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud, --Augment your tide, O streams, with fruitless tears, For the beloved Bion is no more. Let every tender herb and plant and flower, From each dejected bud and drooping bloom, _5Shed dews of liquid sorrow, and with breathOf melancholy sweetness on the windDiffuse its languid love; let roses blush, Anemones grow paler for the lossTheir dells have known; and thou, O hyacinth, _10Utter thy legend now--yet more, dumb flower, Than 'Ah! alas!'--thine is no common grief--Bion the [sweetest singer] is no more. 

NOTE:_2 tears]sorrow (as alternative) Hunt manuscript. 

***

FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. 

[Published with "Alastor", 1816. ]

Tan ala tan glaukan otan onemos atrema Balle--k. T. L. 

When winds that move not its calm surface sweepThe azure sea, I love the land no more;The smiles of the serene and tranquil deepTempt my unquiet mind. --But when the roarOf Ocean's gray abyss resounds, and foam _5Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst, I turn from the drear aspect to the homeOf Earth and its deep woods, where, interspersed, When winds blow loud, pines make sweet melody. Whose house is some lone bark, whose toil the sea, _10Whose prey the wandering fish, an evil lotHas chosen. --But I my languid limbs will flingBeneath the plane, where the brook's murmuringMoves the calm spirit, but disturbs it not. 

***

PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR. 

FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. 

[Published (without title) by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a draft amongst the Hunt manuscripts. ]

Pan loved his neighbour Echo--but that childOf Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping;The Satyr loved with wasting madness wildThe bright nymph Lyda, --and so three went weeping. As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr, _5The Satyr, Lyda; and so love consumed them. --And thus to each--which was a woful matter--To bear what they inflicted Justice doomed them;For, inasmuch as each might hate the lover, Each, loving, so was hated. --Ye that love not _10Be warned--in thought turn this example over, That when ye love, the like return ye prove not. 

NOTE:_6 so Hunt manuscript; thus 1824. _11 So 1824; This lesson timely in your thoughts turn over, The moral of this song in thought turn over (as alternatives) Hunt manuscript. 

***

FROM VERGIL'S TENTH ECLOGUE. 

[VERSES 1-26. ]

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870, from the Boscombe manuscripts now in the Bodleian. Mr. Locock("Examination", etc. , 1903, pages 47-50), as the result of his collationof the same manuscripts, gives a revised and expanded version which weprint below. ]

Melodious Arethusa, o'er my verseShed thou once more the spirit of thy stream:Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thouGlidest beneath the green and purple gleamOf Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow _5Unmingled with the bitter Doric dew!Begin, and, whilst the goats are browsing nowThe soft leaves, in our way let us pursueThe melancholy loves of Gallus. List!We sing not to the dead: the wild woods knew _10His sufferings, and their echoes... Young Naiads, ... In what far woodlands wildWandered ye when unworthy love possessedYour Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled, Nor where Parnassus' sacred mount, nor where _15Aonian Aganippe expands... The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim. The pine-encircled mountain, Maenalus, The cold crags of Lycaeus, weep for him;And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals, _20Came shaking in his speed the budding wandsAnd heavy lilies which he bore: we knewPan the Arcadian. 

... 

'What madness is this, Gallus? Thy heart's careWith willing steps pursues another there. ' _25

***

THE SAME. 

(As revised by Mr. C. D. Locock. )

Melodious Arethusa, o'er my verseShed thou once more the spirit of thy stream:

(Two lines missing. )

Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thouGlidest beneath the green and purple gleamOf Syracusan waters, mayest thou flow _5Unmingled with the bitter Dorian dew!Begin, and whilst the goats are browsing nowThe soft leaves, in our song let us pursueThe melancholy loves of Gallus. List!We sing not to the deaf: the wild woods knew _10His sufferings, and their echoes answer... Young Naiades, in what far woodlands wildWandered ye, when unworthy love possessedOur Gallus? Nor where Pindus is up-piled, Nor where Parnassus' sacred mount, nor where _15Aonian Aganippe spreads its... 

(Three lines missing. )

The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim, The pine-encircled mountain, Maenalus, The cold crags of Lycaeus weep for him. 

(Several lines missing. )

'What madness is this, Gallus? thy heart's care, _20Lycoris, mid rude camps and Alpine snow, With willing step pursues another there. '

(Some lines missing. )

And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals, Came shaking in his speed the budding wandsAnd heavy lilies which he bore: we knew _25Pan the Arcadian with....... And said, 'Wilt thou not ever cease? Love cares not. The meadows with fresh streams, the bees with thyme, The goats with the green leaves of budding spring _30Are saturated not--nor Love with tears. '

***

FROM VERGIL'S FOURTH GEORGIC. 

[VERSES 360 ET SEQ. ]

[Published by Locock, "Examination", etc. , 1903. ]

And the cloven waters like a chasm of mountainsStood, and received him in its mighty portalAnd led him through the deep's untrampled fountains

He went in wonder through the path immortalOf his great Mother and her humid reign _5And groves profaned not by the step of mortal

Which sounded as he passed, and lakes which rainReplenished not girt round by marble caves'Wildered by the watery motion of the main

Half 'wildered he beheld the bursting waves _10Of every stream beneath the mighty earthPhasis and Lycus which the ... Sand paves, [And] The chasm where old Enipeus has its birthAnd father Tyber and Anienas[?] glowAnd whence Caicus, Mysian stream, comes forth _15

And rock-resounding Hypanis, and thouEridanus who bearest like empire's signTwo golden horns upon thy taurine brow

Thou than whom none of the streams divineThrough garden-fields and meads with fiercer power, _20Burst in their tumult on the purple brine

***

SONNET. 

FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. 

[Published with "Alastor", 1816; reprinted, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. ]

DANTE ALIGHIERI TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI:

Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, and I, Led by some strong enchantment, might ascendA magic ship, whose charmed sails should flyWith winds at will where'er our thoughts might wend, So that no change, nor any evil chance _5Should mar our joyous voyage; but it might be, That even satiety should still enhanceBetween our hearts their strict community:And that the bounteous wizard then would placeVanna and Bice and my gentle love, _10Companions of our wandering, and would graceWith passionate talk, wherever we might rove, Our time, and each were as content and freeAs I believe that thou and I should be. 

_5 So 1824; And 1816. 

***

THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE CONVITO. 

FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE. 

[Published by Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862; dated 1820. ]

1. Ye who intelligent the Third Heaven move, Hear the discourse which is within my heart, Which cannot be declared, it seems so new. The Heaven whose course follows your power and art, Oh, gentle creatures that ye are! me drew, _5And therefore may I dare to speak to you, Even of the life which now I live--and yetI pray that ye will hear me when I cry, And tell of mine own heart this novelty;How the lamenting Spirit moans in it, _10And how a voice there murmurs against herWho came on the refulgence of your sphere. 

2. A sweet Thought, which was once the life withinThis heavy heart, man a time and oftWent up before our Father's feet, and there _15It saw a glorious Lady throned aloft;And its sweet talk of her my soul did win, So that I said, 'Thither I too will fare. 'That Thought is fled, and one doth now appearWhich tyrannizes me with such fierce stress, _20That my heart trembles--ye may see it leap--And on another Lady bids me keepMine eyes, and says--Who would have blessednessLet him but look upon that Lady's eyes, Let him not fear the agony of sighs. _25

3. This lowly Thought, which once would talk with meOf a bright seraph sitting crowned on high, Found such a cruel foe it died, and soMy Spirit wept, the grief is hot even now--And said, Alas for me! how swift could flee _30That piteous Thought which did my life console!And the afflicted one ... QuestioningMine eyes, if such a Lady saw they never, And why they would... I said: 'Beneath those eyes might stand for ever _35He whom ... Regards must kill with... To have known their power stood me in little stead, Those eyes have looked on me, and I am dead. '

4. 'Thou art not dead, but thou hast wandered, Thou Soul of ours, who thyself dost fret, ' _40A Spirit of gentle Love beside me said;For that fair Lady, whom thou dost regret, Hath so transformed the life which thou hast led, Thou scornest it, so worthless art thou made. And see how meek, how pitiful, how staid, _45Yet courteous, in her majesty she is. And still call thou her Woman in thy thought;Her whom, if thou thyself deceivest not, Thou wilt behold decked with such loveliness, That thou wilt cry [Love] only Lord, lo! here _50Thy handmaiden, do what thou wilt with her. 

5. My song, I fear that thou wilt find but fewWho fitly shall conceive thy reasoningOf such hard matter dost thou entertain. Whence, if by misadventure chance should bring _55Thee to base company, as chance may do, Quite unaware of what thou dost contain, I prithee comfort thy sweet self again, My last delight; tell them that they are dull, And bid them own that thou art beautiful. _60

NOTE:C5. Published with "Epispychidion", 1821. --ED. 

***

MATILDA GATHERING FLOWERS. 

FROM THE PURGATORIO OF DANTE, CANTO 28, LINES 1-51. 

[Published in part (lines 1-8, 22-51) by Medwin, "The Angler in Wales", 1834, "Life of Shelley", 1847; reprinted in full by Garnett, "Relics ofShelley", 1862. ]

And earnest to explore within--around--The divine wood, whose thick green living woofTempered the young day to the sight--I wound

Up the green slope, beneath the forest's roof, With slow, soft steps leaving the mountain's steep, _5And sought those inmost labyrinths, motion-proof

Against the air, that in that stillness deepAnd solemn, struck upon my forehead bare, The slow, soft stroke of a continuous... 

In which the ... Leaves tremblingly were _10All bent towards that part where earliestThe sacred hill obscures the morning air. 

Yet were they not so shaken from the rest, But that the birds, perched on the utmost spray, Incessantly renewing their blithe quest, _15

With perfect joy received the early day, Singing within the glancing leaves, whose soundKept a low burden to their roundelay, Such as from bough to bough gathers aroundThe pine forest on bleak Chiassi's shore, _20When Aeolus Sirocco has unbound. 

My slow steps had already borne me o'erSuch space within the antique wood, that IPerceived not where I entered any more, --

When, lo! a stream whose little waves went by, _25Bending towards the left through grass that grewUpon its bank, impeded suddenly

My going on. Water of purest hueOn earth, would appear turbid and impureCompared with this, whose unconcealing dew, _30

Dark, dark, yet clear, moved under the obscureEternal shades, whose interwoven loomsThe rays of moon or sunlight ne'er endure. 

I moved not with my feet, but mid the gloomsPierced with my charmed eye, contemplating _35The mighty multitude of fresh May blooms

Which starred that night, when, even as a thingThat suddenly, for blank astonishment, Charms every sense, and makes all thought take wing, --

A solitary woman! and she went _40Singing and gathering flower after flower, With which her way was painted and besprent. 

'Bright lady, who, if looks had ever powerTo bear true witness of the heart within, Dost bask under the beams of love, come lower _45

Towards this bank. I prithee let me winThis much of thee, to come, that I may hearThy song: like Proserpine, in Enna's glen, Thou seemest to my fancy, singing hereAnd gathering flowers, as that fair maiden when _50She lost the Spring, and Ceres her, more dear. 

NOTES:_2 The 1862; That 1834. _4, _5 So 1862;Up a green slope, beneath the starry roof, With slow, slow steps-- 1834. _6 inmost 1862; leafy 1834. _9 So 1862; The slow, soft stroke of a continuous sleep cj. Rossetti, 1870. _9-_28 So 1862; Like the sweet breathing of a child asleep: Already I had lost myself so far Amid that tangled wilderness that I Perceived not where I ventured, but no fear Of wandering from my way disturbed, when nigh A little stream appeared; the grass that grew Thick on its banks impeded suddenly My going on. 1834. _13 the 1862; their cj. Rossetti, 1870. _26 through]the cj. Rossetti. _28 hue 1862; dew 1834. _30 dew 1862; hue 1834. _32 Eternal shades 1862; Of the close boughs 1834. _33 So 1862; No ray of moon or sunshine would endure 1834. _34, _35 So 1862; My feet were motionless, but mid the glooms Darted my charmed eyes--1834. _37 Which 1834; That 1862. _39 So 1834; Dissolves all other thought... 1862. _40 So 1862; Appeared a solitary maid--she went 1834. _46 Towards 1862; Unto 1834. _47 thee, to come 1862; thee O come 1834. 

***

FRAGMENT. 

ADAPTED FROM THE VITA NUOVA OF DANTE. 

[Published by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1876. ]

What Mary is when she a little smilesI cannot even tell or call to mind, It is a miracle so new, so rare. 

***

UGOLINO. 

(Published by Medwin, "Life of Shelley", 1847, with Shelley'scorrections in italics ['']. --ED. )

INFERNO 33, 22-75. 

[Translated by Medwin and corrected by Shelley. ]

Now had the loophole of that dungeon, stillWhich bears the name of Famine's Tower from me, And where 'tis fit that many another will

Be doomed to linger in captivity, Shown through its narrow opening in my cell _5'Moon after moon slow waning', when a sleep, 'That of the future burst the veil, in dreamVisited me. It was a slumber deepAnd evil; for I saw, or I did seem'

To see, 'that' tyrant Lord his revels keep _10The leader of the cruel hunt to them, Chasing the wolf and wolf-cubs up the steep

Ascent, that from 'the Pisan is the screen'Of 'Lucca'; with him Gualandi came, Sismondi, and Lanfranchi, 'bloodhounds lean, _15

Trained to the sport and eager for the gameWide ranging in his front;' but soon were seenThough by so short a course, with 'spirits tame, '

The father and 'his whelps' to flag at once, And then the sharp fangs gored their bosoms deep. _20Ere morn I roused myself, and heard my sons, For they were with me, moaning in their sleep, And begging bread. Ah, for those darling ones!Right cruel art thou, if thou dost not weep

In thinking of my soul's sad augury; _25And if thou weepest not now, weep never more!They were already waked, as wont drew nigh

The allotted hour for food, and in that hourEach drew a presage from his dream. When I'Heard locked beneath me of that horrible tower _30

The outlet; then into their eyes aloneI looked to read myself, ' without a signOr word. I wept not--turned within to stone. 

They wept aloud, and little Anselm mine, Said--'twas my youngest, dearest little one, -- _35"What ails thee, father? Why look so at thine?"

In all that day, and all the following night, I wept not, nor replied; but when to shineUpon the world, not us, came forth the light

Of the new sun, and thwart my prison thrown _40Gleamed through its narrow chink, a doleful sight, 'Three faces, each the reflex of my own, Were imaged by its faint and ghastly ray;'Then I, of either hand unto the bone, Gnawed, in my agony; and thinking they _45

Twas done from sudden pangs, in their excess, All of a sudden raise themselves, and say, "Father! our woes, so great, were yet the less

Would you but eat of us, --twas 'you who cladOur bodies in these weeds of wretchedness; _50Despoil them'. " Not to make their hearts more sad, I 'hushed' myself. That day is at its close, --Another--still we were all mute. Oh, hadThe obdurate earth opened to end our woes!

The fourth day dawned, and when the new sun shone, _55Outstretched himself before me as it roseMy Gaddo, saying, "Help, father! hast thou none

For thine own child--is there no help from thee?"He died--there at my feet--and one by one, I saw them fall, plainly as you see me. _60

Between the fifth and sixth day, ere twas dawn, I found 'myself blind-groping o'er the three. 'Three days I called them after they were gone. 

Famine of grief can get the mastery. 

***

SONNET. 

FROM THE ITALIAN OF CAVALCANTI. 

GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE ALIGHIERI:

[Published by Forman (who assigns it to 1815), "Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1876. ]

Returning from its daily quest, my SpiritChanged thoughts and vile in thee doth weep to find:It grieves me that thy mild and gentle mindThose ample virtues which it did inheritHas lost. Once thou didst loathe the multitude _5Of blind and madding men--I then loved thee--I loved thy lofty songs and that sweet moodWhen thou wert faithful to thyself and meI dare not now through thy degraded stateOwn the delight thy strains inspire--in vain _10I seek what once thou wert--we cannot meetAnd we were wont. Again and yet againPonder my words: so the false Spirit shall flyAnd leave to thee thy true integrity. 

***

SCENES FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO. 

FROM THE SPANISH OF CALDERON. 

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; dated March, 1822. There is a transcript of Scene 1 among the Hunt manuscripts, which hasbeen collated by Mr. Buxton Forman. ]

SCENE 1:

ENTER CYPRIAN, DRESSED AS A STUDENT;CLARIN AND MOSCON AS POOR SCHOLARS, WITH BOOKS. 

CYPRIAN:In the sweet solitude of this calm place, This intricate wild wilderness of treesAnd flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants, Leave me; the books you brought out of the houseTo me are ever best society. _5And while with glorious festival and song, Antioch now celebrates the consecrationOf a proud temple to great Jupiter, And bears his image in loud jubileeTo its new shrine, I would consume what still _10Lives of the dying day in studious thought, Far from the throng and turmoil. You, my friends, Go, and enjoy the festival; it willBe worth your pains. You may return for meWhen the sun seeks its grave among the billows _15Which, among dim gray clouds on the horizon, Dance like white plumes upon a hearse;-- and hereI shall expect you. 

NOTES:_14 So transcr. ; Be worth the labour, and return for me 1824. _16, _17 So 1824;Hid among dim gray clouds on the horizonWhich dance like plumes--transcr. , Forman. 

MOSCON:I cannot bring my mind, Great as my haste to see the festivalCertainly is, to leave you, Sir, without _20Just saying some three or four thousand words. How is it possible that on a dayOf such festivity, you can be contentTo come forth to a solitary countryWith three or four old books, and turn your back _25On all this mirth?

NOTES:_21 thousand transcr. ; hundred 1824. _23 be content transcr. ; bring your mind 1824. 

CLARIN:My master's in the right;There is not anything more tiresomeThan a procession day, with troops, and priests, And dances, and all that. 

NOTE:_28 and priests transcr. ; of men 1824. 

MOSCON:From first to last, Clarin, you are a temporizing flatterer; _30You praise not what you feel but what he does;--Toadeater!

CLARIN:You lie--under a mistake--For this is the most civil sort of lieThat can be given to a man's face. I nowSay what I think. 

CYPRIAN:Enough, you foolish fellows! _35Puffed up with your own doting ignorance, You always take the two sides of one question. Now go; and as I said, return for meWhen night falls, veiling in its shadows wideThis glorious fabric of the universe. _40

NOTE:_36 doting ignorance transcr. ; ignorance and pride 1824. 

MOSCON:How happens it, although you can maintainThe folly of enjoying festivals, That yet you go there?

CLARIN:Nay, the consequenceIs clear:--who ever did what he advisesOthers to do?--

MOSCON:Would that my feet were wings, _45So would I fly to Livia. 

[EXIT. ]

CLARIN:To speak truth, Livia is she who has surprised my heart;But he is more than half-way there. --Soho!Livia, I come; good sport, Livia, soho!

[EXIT. ]

CYPRIAN:Now, since I am alone, let me examine _50The question which has long disturbed my mindWith doubt, since first I read in PliniusThe words of mystic import and deep senseIn which he defines God. My intellectCan find no God with whom these marks and signs _55Fitly agree. It is a hidden truthWhich I must fathom. 

[CYPRIAN READS;THE DAEMON, DRESSED IN A COURT DRESS, ENTERS. ]

NOTE:_57 Stage Direction: So transcr. Reads. Enter the Devil as a fine gentleman 1824. 

DAEMON:Search even as thou wilt, But thou shalt never find what I can hide. 

CYPRIAN:What noise is that among the boughs? Who moves?What art thou?--

DAEMON:'Tis a foreign gentleman. _60Even from this morning I have lost my wayIn this wild place; and my poor horse at last, Quite overcome, has stretched himself uponThe enamelled tapestry of this mossy mountain, And feeds and rests at the same time. I was _65Upon my way to Antioch upon businessOf some importance, but wrapped up in cares(Who is exempt from this inheritance?)I parted from my company, and lostMy way, and lost my servants and my comrades. _70

CYPRIAN:'Tis singular that even within the sightOf the high towers of Antioch you could loseYour way. Of all the avenues and green pathsOf this wild wood there is not one but leads, As to its centre, to the walls of Antioch; _75Take which you will, you cannot miss your road. 

DAEMON:And such is ignorance! Even in the sightOf knowledge, it can draw no profit from it. But as it still is early, and as IHave no acquaintances in Antioch, _80Being a stranger there, I will even waitThe few surviving hours of the day, Until the night shall conquer it. I seeBoth by your dress and by the books in whichYou find delight and company, that you _85Are a great student;--for my part, I feelMuch sympathy in such pursuits. 

NOTE:_87 in transcr. ; with 1824. 

CYPRIAN:Have youStudied much?

DAEMON:No, --and yet I know enoughNot to be wholly ignorant. 

CYPRIAN:Pray, Sir, What science may you know?--

DAEMON:Many. 

CYPRIAN:Alas! _90Much pains must we expend on one alone, And even then attain it not;--but youHave the presumption to assert that youKnow many without study. 

DAEMON:And with truth. For in the country whence I come the sciences _95Require no learning, --they are known. 

NOTE:_95 come the sciences]come sciences 1824. 

CYPRIAN:Oh, wouldI were of that bright country! for in thisThe more we study, we the more discoverOur ignorance. 

DAEMON:It is so true, that IHad so much arrogance as to oppose _100The chair of the most high Professorship, And obtained many votes, and, though I lost, The attempt was still more glorious, than the failureCould be dishonourable. If you believe not, Let us refer it to dispute respecting _105That which you know the best, and although IKnow not the opinion you maintain, and thoughIt be the true one, I will take the contrary. 

NOTE:_106 the transcr. ; wanting, 1824. 

CYPRIAN:The offer gives me pleasure. I am nowDebating with myself upon a passage _110Of Plinius, and my mind is racked with doubtTo understand and know who is the GodOf whom he speaks. 

DAEMON:It is a passage, ifI recollect it right, couched in these words'God is one supreme goodness, one pure essence, _115One substance, and one sense, all sight, all hands. '

CYPRIAN:'Tis true. 

DAEMON:What difficulty find you here?

CYPRIAN:I do not recognize among the GodsThe God defined by Plinius; if he mustBe supreme goodness, even Jupiter _120Is not supremely good; because we seeHis deeds are evil, and his attributesTainted with mortal weakness; in what mannerCan supreme goodness be consistent withThe passions of humanity?

DAEMON:The wisdom _125Of the old world masked with the names of GodsThe attributes of Nature and of Man;A sort of popular philosophy. 

CYPRIAN:This reply will not satisfy me, forSuch awe is due to the high name of God _130That ill should never be imputed. Then, Examining the question with more care, It follows, that the Gods would always willThat which is best, were they supremely good. How then does one will one thing, one another? _135And that you may not say that I allegePoetical or philosophic learning:--Consider the ambiguous responsesOf their oracular statues; from two shrinesTwo armies shall obtain the assurance of _140One victory. Is it not indisputableThat two contending wills can never leadTo the same end? And, being opposite, If one be good, is not the other evil?Evil in God is inconceivable; _145But supreme goodness fails among the GodsWithout their union. 

NOTE:_133 would transcr. ; should 1824. 

DAEMON:I deny your major. These responses are means towards some endUnfathomed by our intellectual beam. They are the work of Providence, and more _150The battle's loss may profit those who lose, Than victory advantage those who win. 

CYPRIAN:That I admit; and yet that God should not(Falsehood is incompatible with deity)Assure the victory; it would be enough _155To have permitted the defeat. If GodBe all sight, --God, who had beheld the truth, Would not have given assurance of an endNever to be accomplished: thus, althoughThe Deity may according to his attributes _160Be well distinguished into persons, yetEven in the minutest circumstanceHis essence must be one. 

NOTE:_157 had transcr. ; wanting, 1824. 

DAEMON:To attain the endThe affections of the actors in the sceneMust have been thus influenced by his voice. _165

CYPRIAN:But for a purpose thus subordinateHe might have employed Genii, good or evil, --A sort of spirits called so by the learned, Who roam about inspiring good or evil, And from whose influence and existence we _170May well infer our immortality. Thus God might easily, without descentTo a gross falsehood in his proper person, Have moved the affections by this mediationTo the just point. 

NOTE:_172 descent transcr. ; descending 1824. 

DAEMON:These trifling contradictions _175Do not suffice to impugn the unityOf the high Gods; in things of great importanceThey still appear unanimous; considerThat glorious fabric, man, --his workmanshipIs stamped with one conception. 

CYPRIAN:Who made man _180Must have, methinks, the advantage of the others. If they are equal, might they not have risenIn opposition to the work, and beingAll hands, according to our author here, Have still destroyed even as the other made? _185If equal in their power, unequal onlyIn opportunity, which of the twoWill remain conqueror?

NOTE:_186 unequal only transcr. ; and only unequal 1824. 

DAEMON:On impossibleAnd false hypothesis there can be builtNo argument. Say, what do you infer _190From this?

CYPRIAN:That there must be a mighty GodOf supreme goodness and of highest grace, All sight, all hands, all truth, infallible, Without an equal and without a rival, The cause of all things and the effect of nothing, _195One power, one will, one substance, and one essence. And, in whatever persons, one or two, His attributes may be distinguished, oneSovereign power, one solitary essence, One cause of all cause. 

NOTE:_197 And]query, Ay?

[THEY RISE. ]

DAEMON:How can I impugn _200So clear a consequence?

NOTE:_200 all cause 1824; all things transcr. 

CYPRIAN:Do you regretMy victory?

DAEMON:Who but regrets a checkIn rivalry of wit? I could replyAnd urge new difficulties, but will nowDepart, for I hear steps of men approaching, _205And it is time that I should now pursueMy journey to the city. 

CYPRIAN:Go in peace!

DAEMON:Remain in peace!--Since thus it profits himTo study, I will wrap his senses upIn sweet oblivion of all thought but of _210A piece of excellent beauty; and, as IHave power given me to wage enmityAgainst Justina's soul, I will extractFrom one effect two vengeances. 

[ASIDE AND EXIT. ]

NOTE:_214 Stage direction So transcr. ; Exit 1824. 

CYPRIAN:I neverMet a more learned person. Let me now _215Revolve this doubt again with careful mind. 

[HE READS. ]

[FLORO AND LELIO ENTER. ]

LELIO:Here stop. These toppling rocks and tangled boughs, Impenetrable by the noonday beam, Shall be sole witnesses of what we--

FLORO:Draw!If there were words, here is the place for deeds. _220

LELIO:Thou needest not instruct me; well I knowThat in the field, the silent tongue of steelSpeaks thus, --

[THEY FIGHT. ]

CYPRIAN:Ha! what is this? Lelio, --Floro, Be it enough that Cyprian stands between you, Although unarmed. 

LELIO:Whence comest thou, to stand _225Between me and my vengeance?

FLORO:From what rocksAnd desert cells?

[ENTER MOSCON AND CLARIN. ]

MOSCON:Run! run! for where we leftMy master. I now hear the clash of swords. 

NOTES:_228 I now hear transcr. ; we hear 1824. _227-_229 lines of otherwise arranged, 1824. 

CLARIN:I never run to approach things of this sortBut only to avoid them. Sir! Cyprian! sir! _230

CYPRIAN:Be silent, fellows! What! two friends who areIn blood and fame the eyes and hope of Antioch, One of the noble race of the Colalti, The other son o' the Governor, adventureAnd cast away, on some slight cause no doubt, _235Two lives, the honour of their country?

NOTE:_233 race transcr. ; men 1824. Colalti]Colatti 1824. 

LELIO:Cyprian!Although my high respect towards your personHolds now my sword suspended, thou canst notRestore it to the slumber of the scabbard:Thou knowest more of science than the duel; _240For when two men of honour take the field, No counsel nor respect can make them friendsBut one must die in the dispute. 

NOTE:_239 of the transcr. ; of its 1824. _242 No counsel nor 1839, 1st edition; No [... ] or 1824; No reasoning or transcr. _243 dispute transcr. Pursuit 1824. 

FLORO:I prayThat you depart hence with your people, andLeave us to finish what we have begun _245Without advantage. --

CYPRIAN:Though you may imagineThat I know little of the laws of duel, Which vanity and valour instituted, You are in error. By my birth I amHeld no less than yourselves to know the limits _250Of honour and of infamy, nor has studyQuenched the free spirit which first ordered them;And thus to me, as one well experiencedIn the false quicksands of the sea of honour, You may refer the merits of the case; _255And if I should perceive in your relationThat either has the right to satisfactionFrom the other, I give you my word of honourTo leave you. 

NOTE:_253 well omit, cj. Forman. 

LELIO:Under this condition thenI will relate the cause, and you will cede _260And must confess the impossibilityOf compromise; for the same lady isBeloved by Floro and myself. 

FLORO:It seemsMuch to me that the light of day should lookUpon that idol of my heart--but he-- _265Leave us to fight, according to thy word. 

CYPRIAN:Permit one question further: is the ladyImpossible to hope or not?

LELIO:She isSo excellent, that if the light of dayShould excite Floro's jealousy, it were _270Without just cause, for even the light of dayTrembles to gaze on her. 

CYPRIAN:Would you for yourPart, marry her?

FLORO:Such is my confidence. 

CYPRIAN:And you?

LELIO:Oh! would that I could lift my hopeSo high, for though she is extremely poor, _275Her virtue is her dowry. 

CYPRIAN:And if you bothWould marry her, is it not weak and vain, Culpable and unworthy, thus beforehandTo slur her honour? What would the world sayIf one should slay the other, and if she _280Should afterwards espouse the murderer?

[THE RIVALS AGREE TO REFER THEIR QUARREL TO CYPRIAN; WHO IN CONSEQUENCEVISITS JUSTINA, AND BECOMES ENAMOURED OF HER; SHE DISDAINS HIM, AND HERETIRES TO A SOLITARY SEA-SHORE. ]

SCENE 2. 

CYPRIAN:O memory! permit it notThat the tyrant of my thoughtBe another soul that stillHolds dominion o'er the will, That would refuse, but can no more, _5To bend, to tremble, and adore. Vain idolatry!--I saw, And gazing, became blind with error;Weak ambition, which the aweOf her presence bound to terror! _10So beautiful she was--and I, Between my love and jealousy, Am so convulsed with hope and fear, Unworthy as it may appear;--So bitter is the life I live, _15That, hear me, Hell! I now would giveTo thy most detested spiritMy soul, for ever to inherit, To suffer punishment and pine, So this woman may be mine. _20Hear'st thou, Hell! dost thou reject it?My soul is offered!

DAEMON (UNSEEN):I accept it. 

[TEMPEST, WITH THUNDER AND LIGHTNING. ]

CYPRIAN:What is this? ye heavens for ever pure, At once intensely radiant and obscure!Athwart the aethereal halls _25The lightning's arrow and the thunder-ballsThe day affright, As from the horizon round, Burst with earthquake sound, In mighty torrents the electric fountains;-- _30Clouds quench the sun, and thunder-smokeStrangles the air, and fire eclipses Heaven. Philosophy, thou canst not evenCompel their causes underneath thy yoke:From yonder clouds even to the waves below _35The fragments of a single ruin chokeImagination's flight;For, on flakes of surge, like feathers light, The ashes of the desolation, castUpon the gloomy blast, _40Tell of the footsteps of the storm;And nearer, see, the melancholy formOf a great ship, the outcast of the sea, Drives miserably!And it must fly the pity of the port, _45Or perish, and its last and sole resortIs its own raging enemy. The terror of the thrilling cryWas a fatal prophecyOf coming death, who hovers now _50Upon that shattered prow, That they who die not may be dying still. And not alone the insane elementsAre populous with wild portents, But that sad ship is as a miracle _55Of sudden ruin, for it drives so fastIt seems as if it had arrayed its formWith the headlong storm. It strikes--I almost feel the shock, --It stumbles on a jagged rock, -- _60Sparkles of blood on the white foam are cast. 

[A TEMPEST. ]

ALL EXCLAIM [WITHIN]:We are all lost!

DAEMON [WITHIN]:Now from this plank will IPass to the land and thus fulfil my scheme. 

CYPRIAN:As in contempt of the elemental rageA man comes forth in safety, while the ship's _65Great form is in a watery eclipseObliterated from the Oceans page, And round its wreck the huge sea-monsters sit, A horrid conclave, and the whistling waveIs heaped over its carcase, like a grave. _70

[THE DAEMON ENTERS, AS ESCAPED FROM THE SEA. ]

DAEMON [ASIDE]:It was essential to my purposesTo wake a tumult on the sapphire ocean, That in this unknown form I might at lengthWipe out the blot of the discomfitureSustained upon the mountain, and assail _75With a new war the soul of Cyprian, Forging the instruments of his destructionEven from his love and from his wisdom. --OBeloved earth, dear mother, in thy bosomI seek a refuge from the monster who _80Precipitates itself upon me. 

CYPRIAN:Friend, Collect thyself; and be the memoryOf thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrowBut as a shadow of the past, --for nothingBeneath the circle of the moon, but flows _85And changes, and can never know repose. 

DAEMON:And who art thou, before whose feet my fateHas prostrated me?

CYPRIAN:One who, moved with pity, Would soothe its stings. 

DAEMON:Oh, that can never be!No solace can my lasting sorrows find. _90

CYPRIAN:Wherefore?

DAEMON:Because my happiness is lost. Yet I lament what has long ceased to beThe object of desire or memory, And my life is not life. 

CYPRIAN:Now, since the furyOf this earthquaking hurricane is still, _95And the crystalline Heaven has reassumedIts windless calm so quickly, that it seemsAs if its heavy wrath had been awakenedOnly to overwhelm that vessel, --speak, Who art thou, and whence comest thou?

DAEMON:Far more _100My coming hither cost, than thou hast seenOr I can tell. Among my misadventuresThis shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou hear?

CYPRIAN:Speak. 

DAEMON:Since thou desirest, I will then unveilMyself to thee;--for in myself I am _105A world of happiness and misery;This I have lost, and that I must lamentForever. In my attributes I stoodSo high and so heroically great, In lineage so supreme, and with a genius _110Which penetrated with a glance the worldBeneath my feet, that, won by my high merit, A king--whom I may call the King of kings, Because all others tremble in their prideBefore the terrors of His countenance, _115In His high palace roofed with brightest gemsOf living light--call them the stars of Heaven--Named me His counsellor. But the high praiseStung me with pride and envy, and I roseIn mighty competition, to ascend _120His seat and place my foot triumphantlyUpon His subject thrones. Chastised, I knowThe depth to which ambition falls; too madWas the attempt, and yet more mad were nowRepentance of the irrevocable deed:-- _125Therefore I chose this ruin, with the gloryOf not to be subdued, before the shameOf reconciling me with Him who reignsBy coward cession. --Nor was I alone, Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone; _130And there was hope, and there may still be hope, For many suffrages among His vassalsHailed me their lord and king, and many stillAre mine, and many more, perchance shall be. Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious, _135I left His seat of empire, from mine eyeShooting forth poisonous lightning, while my wordsWith inauspicious thunderings shook Heaven, Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong, And imprecating on His prostrate slaves _140Rapine, and death, and outrage. Then I sailedOver the mighty fabric of the world, --A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands, A lynx crouched watchfully among its cavesAnd craggy shores; and I have wandered over _145The expanse of these wide wildernessesIn this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolvedIn the light breathings of the invisible wind, And which the sea has made a dustless ruin, Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests _150I seek a man, whom I must now compelTo keep his word with me. I came arrayedIn tempest, and although my power could wellBridle the forest winds in their career, For other causes I forbore to soothe _155Their fury to Favonian gentleness;I could and would not;[ASIDE. ](thus I wake in himA love of magic art). Let not this tempest, Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder;For by my art the sun would turn as pale _160As his weak sister with unwonted fear;And in my wisdom are the orbs of HeavenWritten as in a record; I have piercedThe flaming circles of their wondrous spheresAnd know them as thou knowest every corner _165Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to theeThat I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I workA charm over this waste and savage wood, This Babylon of crags and aged trees, Filling its leafy coverts with a horror _170Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guestOf these wild oaks and pines--and as from theeI have received the hospitalityOf this rude place, I offer thee the fruitOf years of toil in recompense; whate'er _175Thy wildest dream presented to thy thoughtAs object of desire, that shall be thine. 

... 

And thenceforth shall so firm an amity'Twixt thee and me be, that neither Fortune, The monstrous phantom which pursues success, _180That careful miser, that free prodigal, Who ever alternates, with changeful hand, Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time, That lodestar of the ages, to whose beamThe winged years speed o'er the intervals _185Of their unequal revolutions; norHeaven itself, whose beautiful bright starsRule and adorn the world, can ever makeThe least division between thee and me, Since now I find a refuge in thy favour. _190

NOTES:_146 wide glassy wildernesses Rossetti. _150 Seeking forever cj. Forman. _154 forest]fiercest cj. Rossetti. 

SCENE 3. 

THE DAEMON TEMPTS JUSTINA, WHO IS A CHRISTIAN. 

DAEMON:Abyss of Hell! I call on thee, Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy!From thy prison-house set freeThe spirits of voluptuous death, That with their mighty breath _5They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts;Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motesBe peopled from thy shadowy deep, Till her guiltless fantasyFull to overflowing be! _10And with sweetest harmony, Let birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things moveTo love, only to love. Let nothing meet her eyesBut signs of Love's soft victories; _15Let nothing meet her earBut sounds of Love's sweet sorrow, So that from faith no succour she may borrow, But, guided by my spirit blindAnd in a magic snare entwined, _20She may now seek Cyprian. Begin, while I in silence bindMy voice, when thy sweet song thou hast began. 

NOTE:_18 she may]may she 1824. 

A VOICE [WITHIN]:What is the glory far aboveAll else in human life?

ALL:Love! love! _25

[WHILE THESE WORDS ARE SUNG, THE DAEMON GOES OUT AT ONE DOOR, AND JUSTINA ENTERS AT ANOTHER. ]

THE FIRST VOICE:There is no form in which the fireOf love its traces has impressed not. Man lives far more in love's desireThan by life's breath, soon possessed not. If all that lives must love or die, _30All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky, With one consent to Heaven cryThat the glory far aboveAll else in life is--

ALL:Love! oh, Love!

JUSTINA:Thou melancholy Thought which art _35So flattering and so sweet, to theeWhen did I give the libertyThus to afflict my heart?What is the cause of this new PowerWhich doth my fevered being move, _40Momently raging more and more?What subtle Pain is kindled nowWhich from my heart doth overflowInto my senses?--

NOTE:_36 flattering Boscombe manuscript; fluttering 1824. 

ALL:Love! oh, Love!

JUSTINA:'Tis that enamoured Nightingale _45Who gives me the reply;He ever tells the same soft taleOf passion and of constancyTo his mate, who rapt and fond, Listening sits, a bough beyond. _50

Be silent, Nightingale--no moreMake me think, in hearing theeThus tenderly thy love deplore, If a bird can feel his so, What a man would feel for me. _55And, voluptuous Vine, O thouWho seekest most when least pursuing, --To the trunk thou interlacestArt the verdure which embracest, And the weight which is its ruin, -- _60No more, with green embraces, Vine, Make me think on what thou lovest, --For whilst thus thy boughs entwineI fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist, How arms might be entangled too. _65

Light-enchanted Sunflower, thouWho gazest ever true and tenderOn the sun's revolving splendour!Follow not his faithless glanceWith thy faded countenance, _70Nor teach my beating heart to fear, If leaves can mourn without a tear, How eyes must weep! O Nightingale, Cease from thy enamoured tale, --Leafy Vine, unwreathe thy bower, _75Restless Sunflower, cease to move, --Or tell me all, what poisonous PowerYe use against me--

NOTES:_58 To]Who to cj. Rossetti. _63 whilst thus Rossetti, Forman, Dowden; whilst thou thus 1824. 

ALL:Love! Love! Love!

JUSTINA:It cannot be!--Whom have I ever loved?Trophies of my oblivion and disdain, _80Floro and Lelio did I not reject?And Cyprian?--[SHE BECOMES TROUBLED AT THE NAME OF CYPRIAN. ]Did I not requite himWith such severity, that he has fledWhere none has ever heard of him again?--Alas! I now begin to fear that this _85May be the occasion whence desire grows bold, As if there were no danger. From the momentThat I pronounced to my own listening heart, 'Cyprian is absent!'--O me miserable!I know not what I feel![MORE CALMLY. ]It must be pity _90To think that such a man, whom all the worldAdmired, should be forgot by all the world, And I the cause. [SHE AGAIN BECOMES TROUBLED. ]And yet if it were pity, Floro and Lelio might have equal share, For they are both imprisoned for my sake. _95[CALMLY. ]Alas! what reasonings are these? it isEnough I pity him, and that, in vain, Without this ceremonious subtlety. And, woe is me! I know not where to find him now, Even should I seek him through this wide world. _100

NOTE:_89 me miserable]miserable me editions 1839. 

[ENTER DAEMON. ]

DAEMON:Follow, and I will lead thee where he is. 

JUSTINA:And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither, Into my chamber through the doors and locks?Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madnessHas formed in the idle air?

DAEMON:No. I am one _105Called by the Thought which tyrannizes theeFrom his eternal dwelling; who this dayIs pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian. 

JUSTINA:So shall thy promise fail. This agonyOf passion which afflicts my heart and soul _110May sweep imagination in its storm;The will is firm. 

DAEMON:Already half is doneIn the imagination of an act. The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains;Let not the will stop half-way on the road. _115

JUSTINA:I will not be discouraged, nor despair, Although I thought it, and although 'tis trueThat thought is but a prelude to the deed:--Thought is not in my power, but action is:I will not move my foot to follow thee. _120

DAEMON:But a far mightier wisdom than thine ownExerts itself within thee, with such powerCompelling thee to that which it inclinesThat it shall force thy step; how wilt thou thenResist, Justina?

NOTE:_123 inclines]inclines to cj. Rossetti. 

JUSTINA:By my free-will. 

DAEMON:I _125Must force thy will. 

JUSTINA:It is invincible;It were not free if thou hadst power upon it. 

[HE DRAWS, BUT CANNOT MOVE HER. ]

DAEMON:Come, where a pleasure waits thee. 

JUSTINA:It were boughtToo dear. 

DAEMON:'Twill soothe thy heart to softest peace. 

JUSTINA:'Tis dread captivity. 

DAEMON:'Tis joy, 'tis glory. _130

JUSTINA:'Tis shame, 'tis torment, 'tis despair. 

DAEMON:But howCanst thou defend thyself from that or me, If my power drags thee onward?

JUSTINA:My defenceConsists in God. 

[HE VAINLY ENDEAVOURS TO FORCE HER, AND AT LAST RELEASES HER. ]

DAEMON:Woman, thou hast subdued me, Only by not owning thyself subdued. _135But since thou thus findest defence in God, I will assume a feigned form, and thusMake thee a victim of my baffled rage. For I will mask a spirit in thy formWho will betray thy name to infamy, _140And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss, First by dishonouring thee, and then by turningFalse pleasure to true ignominy. 

[EXIT. ]

JUSTINA: IAppeal to Heaven against thee; so that HeavenMay scatter thy delusions, and the blot _145Upon my fame vanish in idle thought, Even as flame dies in the envious air, And as the floweret wanes at morning frost;And thou shouldst never--But, alas! to whomDo I still speak?--Did not a man but now _150Stand here before me?--No, I am alone, And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly?Or can the heated mind engender shapesFrom its own fear? Some terrible and strangePeril is near. Lisander! father! lord! _155Livia!--

[ENTER LISANDER AND LIVIA. ]

LISANDER:Oh, my daughter! What?

LIVIA:What!

JUSTINA:Saw youA man go forth from my apartment now?--I scarce contain myself!

LISANDER:A man here!

JUSTINA:Have you not seen him?

LIVIA:No, Lady. 

JUSTINA: I saw him. 

LISANDER: 'Tis impossible; the doors _160Which led to this apartment were all locked. 

LIVIA [ASIDE]:I daresay it was Moscon whom she saw, For he was locked up in my room. 

LISANDER:It mustHave been some image of thy fantasy. Such melancholy as thou feedest is _165Skilful in forming such in the vain airOut of the motes and atoms of the day. 

LIVIA:My master's in the right. 

JUSTINA:Oh, would it wereDelusion; but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom _170My heart was torn in fragments; ay, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame;So potent was the charm that, had not GodShielded my humble innocence from wrong, I should have sought my sorrow and my shame _175With willing steps. --Livia, quick, bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremesEven in the temple of the highest GodWhere secretly the faithful worship. 

LIVIA:Here. 

NOTE:_179 Where Rossetti; Which 1824. 

JUSTINA [PUTTING ON HER CLOAK]:In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I _180Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, Wasting away!

LISANDER:And I will go with thee. 

LIVIA:When I once see them safe out of the houseI shall breathe freely. 

JUSTINA:So do I confideIn thy just favour, Heaven!

LISANDER:Let us go. _185

JUSTINA:Thine is the cause, great God! turn for my sake, And for Thine own, mercifully to me!

***

STANZAS FROM CALDERON'S CISMA DE INGLATERRA. 

TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY. 

[Published by Medwin, "Life of Shelley", 1847, with Shelley's corrections in ''. ]

1. Hast thou not seen, officious with delight, Move through the illumined air about the flowerThe Bee, that fears to drink its purple light, Lest danger lurk within that Rose's bower?Hast thou not marked the moth's enamoured flight _5About the Taper's flame at evening hour;'Till kindle in that monumental fireHis sunflower wings their own funereal pyre?

2. My heart, its wishes trembling to unfold. Thus round the Rose and Taper hovering came, _10'And Passion's slave, Distrust, in ashes cold. Smothered awhile, but could not quench the flame, '--Till Love, that grows by disappointment bold, And Opportunity, had conquered Shame;And like the Bee and Moth, in act to close, _15'I burned my wings, and settled on the Rose. '

***

SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE. 

[Published in part (Scene 2) in "The Liberal", No. 1, 1822;in full, by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. ]

SCENE 1. --PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 

THE LORD AND THE HOST OF HEAVEN. 

ENTER THREE ARCHANGELS. 

RAPHAEL:The sun makes music as of oldAmid the rival spheres of Heaven, On its predestined circle rolledWith thunder speed: the Angels evenDraw strength from gazing on its glance, _5Though none its meaning fathom may:--The world's unwithered countenanceIs bright as at Creation's day. 

GABRIEL:And swift and swift, with rapid lightness, The adorned Earth spins silently, _10Alternating Elysian brightnessWith deep and dreadful night; the seaFoams in broad billows from the deepUp to the rocks, and rocks and Ocean, Onward, with spheres which never sleep, _15Are hurried in eternal motion. 

MICHAEL:And tempests in contention roarFrom land to sea, from sea to land;And, raging, weave a chain of power, Which girds the earth, as with a band. -- _20A flashing desolation there, Flames before the thunder's way;But Thy servants, Lord, revereThe gentle changes of Thy day. 

CHORUS OF THE THREE:The Angels draw strength from Thy glance, _25Though no one comprehend Thee may;--Thy world's unwithered countenanceIs bright as on Creation's day. 

NOTE:_28 (RAPHAEL:The sun sounds, according to ancient custom, In the song of emulation of his brother-spheres. And its fore-written circleFulfils with a step of thunder. Its countenance gives the Angels strengthThough no one can fathom it. The incredible high worksAre excellent as at the first day. 

GABRIEL:And swift, and inconceivably swiftThe adornment of earth winds itself round, And exchanges Paradise-clearnessWith deep dreadful night. The sea foams in broad wavesFrom its deep bottom, up to the rocks, And rocks and sea are torn on togetherIn the eternal swift course of the spheres. 

MICHAEL:And storms roar in emulationFrom sea to land, from land to sea, And make, raging, a chainOf deepest operation round about. There flames a flashing destructionBefore the path of the thunderbolt. But Thy servants, Lord, revereThe gentle alternations of Thy day. 

CHORUS:Thy countenance gives the Angels strength, Though none can comprehend Thee:And all Thy lofty worksAre excellent as at the first day. 

Such is a literal translation of this astonishing chorus; it isimpossible to represent in another language the melody of theversification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideasescape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised tofind a caput mortuum. --[SHELLEY'S NOTE. ])

[ENTER MEPHISTOPHELES. ]

MEPHISTOPHELES:As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enoughTo interest Thyself in our affairs, _30And ask, 'How goes it with you there below?'And as indulgently at other timesThou tookest not my visits in ill part, Thou seest me here once more among Thy household. Though I should scandalize this company, _35You will excuse me if I do not talkIn the high style which they think fashionable;My pathos certainly would make You laugh too, Had You not long since given over laughing. Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds; _40I observe only how men plague themselves;--The little god o' the world keeps the same stamp, As wonderful as on creation's day:--A little better would he live, hadst ThouNot given him a glimpse of Heaven's light _45Which he calls reason, and employs it onlyTo live more beastlily than any beast. With reverence to Your Lordship be it spoken, He's like one of those long-legged grasshoppers, Who flits and jumps about, and sings for ever _50The same old song i' the grass. There let him lie, Burying his nose in every heap of dung. 

NOTES:_38 certainly would editions 1839; would certainly 1824. _47 beastlily 1824; beastily editions 1839. 

THE LORD:Have you no more to say? Do you come hereAlways to scold, and cavil, and complain?Seems nothing ever right to you on earth? _55

MEPHISTOPHELES:No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best. Even I am sorry for man's days of sorrow;I could myself almost give up the pleasureOf plaguing the poor things. 

THE LORD:Knowest thou Faust?

MEPHISTOPHELES:The Doctor?

THE LORD:Ay; My servant Faust. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:In truth _60He serves You in a fashion quite his own;And the fool's meat and drink are not of earth. His aspirations bear him on so farThat he is half aware of his own folly, For he demands from Heaven its fairest star, _65And from the earth the highest joy it bears, Yet all things far, and all things near, are vainTo calm the deep emotions of his breast. 

THE LORD:Though he now serves Me in a cloud of error, I will soon lead him forth to the clear day. _70When trees look green, full well the gardener knowsThat fruits and blooms will deck the coming year. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:What will You bet?--now am sure of winning--Only, observe You give me full permissionTo lead him softly on my path. 

THE LORD:As long _75As he shall live upon the earth, so longIs nothing unto thee forbidden--ManMust err till he has ceased to struggle. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:Thanks. And that is all I ask; for willinglyI never make acquaintance with the dead. _80The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me, And if a corpse knocks, I am not at home. For I am like a cat--I like to playA little with the mouse before I eat it. 

THE LORD:Well, well! it is permitted thee. Draw thou _85His spirit from its springs; as thou find'st powerSeize him and lead him on thy downward path;And stand ashamed when failure teaches theeThat a good man, even in his darkest longings, Is well aware of the right way. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:Well and good. _90I am not in much doubt about my bet, And if I lose, then 'tis Your turn to crow;Enjoy Your triumph then with a full breast. Ay; dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure, Like my old paramour, the famous Snake. _95

THE LORD:Pray come here when it suits you; for I neverHad much dislike for people of your sort. And, among all the Spirits who rebelled, The knave was ever the least tedious to Me. The active spirit of man soon sleeps, and soon _100He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore IHave given him the Devil for a companion, Who may provoke him to some sort of work, And must create forever. --But ye, pureChildren of God, enjoy eternal beauty;-- _105Let that which ever operates and livesClasp you within the limits of its love;And seize with sweet and melancholy thoughtsThe floating phantoms of its loveliness. 

[HEAVEN CLOSES; THE ARCHANGELS EXEUNT. ]

MEPHISTOPHELES:From time to time I visit the old fellow, _110And I take care to keep on good terms with Him. Civil enough is the same God Almighty, To talk so freely with the Devil himself. 

SCENE 2. --MAY-DAY NIGHT. 

THE HARTZ MOUNTAIN, A DESOLATE COUNTRY. 

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:Would you not like a broomstick? As for meI wish I had a good stout ram to ride;For we are still far from the appointed place. 

FAUST:This knotted staff is help enough for me, Whilst I feel fresh upon my legs. What good _5Is there in making short a pleasant way?To creep along the labyrinths of the vales, And climb those rocks, where ever-babbling springs, Precipitate themselves in waterfalls, Is the true sport that seasons such a path. _10Already Spring kindles the birchen spray, And the hoar pines already feel her breath:Shall she not work also within our limbs?

MEPHISTOPHELES:Nothing of such an influence do I feel. My body is all wintry, and I wish _15The flowers upon our path were frost and snow. But see how melancholy rises now, Dimly uplifting her belated beam, The blank unwelcome round of the red moon, And gives so bad a light, that every step _20One stumbles 'gainst some crag. With your permission, I'll call on Ignis-fatuus to our aid:I see one yonder burning jollily. Halloo, my friend! may I request that youWould favour us with your bright company? _25Why should you blaze away there to no purpose?Pray be so good as light us up this way. 

IGNIS-FATUUS:With reverence be it spoken, I will tryTo overcome the lightness of my nature;Our course, you know, is generally zigzag. _30

MEPHISTOPHELES:Ha, ha! your worship thinks you have to dealWith men. Go straight on, in the Devil's name, Or I shall puff your flickering life out. 

NOTE:_33 shall puff 1824; will blow 1822. 

IGNIS-FATUUS:Well, I see you are the master of the house;I will accommodate myself to you. _35Only consider that to-night this mountainIs all enchanted, and if Jack-a-lanternShows you his way, though you should miss your own, You ought not to be too exact with him. 

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, AND IGNIS-FATUUS, IN ALTERNATE CHORUS:The limits of the sphere of dream, _40The bounds of true and false, are past. Lead us on, thou wandering Gleam, Lead us onward, far and fast, To the wide, the desert waste. 

But see, how swift advance and shift _45Trees behind trees, row by row, --How, clift by clift, rocks bend and liftTheir frowning foreheads as we go. The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho!How they snort, and how they blow! _50

Through the mossy sods and stones, Stream and streamlet hurry down--A rushing throng! A sound of songBeneath the vault of Heaven is blown!Sweet notes of love, the speaking tones _55Of this bright day, sent down to sayThat Paradise on Earth is known, Resound around, beneath, above. All we hope and all we loveFinds a voice in this blithe strain, _60Which wakens hill and wood and rill, And vibrates far o'er field and vale, And which Echo, like the taleOf old times, repeats again. 

To-whoo! to-whoo! near, nearer now _65The sound of song, the rushing throng!Are the screech, the lapwing, and the jay, All awake as if 'twere day?See, with long legs and belly wide, A salamander in the brake! _70Every root is like a snake, And along the loose hillside, With strange contortions through the night, Curls, to seize or to affright;And, animated, strong, and many, _75They dart forth polypus-antennae, To blister with their poison spumeThe wanderer. Through the dazzling gloomThe many-coloured mice, that threadThe dewy turf beneath our tread, _80In troops each other's motions cross, Through the heath and through the moss;And, in legions intertangled, The fire-flies flit, and swarm, and throng, Till all the mountain depths are spangled. _85

Tell me, shall we go or stay?Shall we onward? Come along!Everything around is sweptForward, onward, far away!Trees and masses intercept _90The sight, and wisps on every sideAre puffed up and multiplied. 

NOTES:_48 frowning]fawning 1822. _70 brake 1824; lake 1822. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:Now vigorously seize my skirt, and gainThis pinnacle of isolated crag. One may observe with wonder from this point, _95How Mammon glows among the mountains. 

FAUST:Ay--And strangely through the solid depth belowA melancholy light, like the red dawn, Shoots from the lowest gorge of the abyssOf mountains, lightning hitherward: there rise _100Pillars of smoke, here clouds float gently by;Here the light burns soft as the enkindled air, Or the illumined dust of golden flowers;And now it glides like tender colours spreading;And now bursts forth in fountains from the earth; _105And now it winds, one torrent of broad light, Through the far valley with a hundred veins;And now once more within that narrow cornerMasses itself into intensest splendour. And near us, see, sparks spring out of the ground, _110Like golden sand scattered upon the darkness;The pinnacles of that black wall of mountainsThat hems us in are kindled. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:Rare: in faith!Does not Sir Mammon gloriously illuminateHis palace for this festival?--it is _115A pleasure which you had not known before. I spy the boisterous guests already. 

FAUST:HowThe children of the wind rage in the air!With what fierce strokes they fall upon my neck!

NOTE:_117 How 1824; Now 1822. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:Cling tightly to the old ribs of the crag. _120Beware! for if with them thou warrestIn their fierce flight towards the wilderness, Their breath will sweep thee into dust, and dragThy body to a grave in the abyss. A cloud thickens the night. _125Hark! how the tempest crashes through the forest!The owls fly out in strange affright;The columns of the evergreen palacesAre split and shattered;The roots creak, and stretch, and groan; _130And ruinously overthrown, The trunks are crushed and shatteredBy the fierce blast's unconquerable stress. Over each other crack and crash they allIn terrible and intertangled fall; _135And through the ruins of the shaken mountainThe airs hiss and howl--It is not the voice of the fountain, Nor the wolf in his midnight prowl. Dost thou not hear? _140Strange accents are ringingAloft, afar, anear?The witches are singing!The torrent of a raging wizard songStreams the whole mountain along. _145

NOTE:_132 shattered]scattered Rossetti. 

CHORUS OF WITCHES:The stubble is yellow, the corn is green, Now to the Brocken the witches go;The mighty multitude here may be seenGathering, wizard and witch, below. Sir Urian is sitting aloft in the air; _150Hey over stock! and hey over stone!'Twixt witches and incubi, what shall be done?Tell it who dare! tell it who dare!

NOTE:_150 Urian]Urean editions 1824, 1839. 

A VOICE:Upon a sow-swine, whose farrows were nine, Old Baubo rideth alone. _155

CHORUS:Honour her, to whom honour is due, Old mother Baubo, honour to you!An able sow, with old Baubo upon her, Is worthy of glory, and worthy of honour!The legion of witches is coming behind, _160Darkening the night, and outspeeding the wind--

A VOICE:Which way comest thou?

A VOICE:Over Ilsenstein;The owl was awake in the white moonshine;I saw her at rest in her downy nest, And she stared at me with her broad, bright eyne. _165

NOTE:_165 eyne 1839, 2nd edition; eye 1822, 1824, 1839, 1st edition. 

VOICES:And you may now as well take your course on to Hell, Since you ride by so fast on the headlong blast. 

A VOICE:She dropped poison upon me as I passed. Here are the wounds--

CHORUS OF WITCHES:Come away! come along!The way is wide, the way is long, _170But what is that for a Bedlam throng?Stick with the prong, and scratch with the broom. The child in the cradle lies strangled at home, And the mother is clapping her hands. --

SEMICHORUS OF WIZARDS 1:We glide inLike snails when the women are all away; _175And from a house once given over to sinWoman has a thousand steps to stray. 

SEMICHORUS 2:A thousand steps must a woman take, Where a man but a single spring will make. 

VOICES ABOVE:Come with us, come with us, from Felsensee. _180

NOTE:_180 Felsensee 1862 ("Relics of Shelley", page 96); Felumee 1822; Felunsee editions 1824, 1839. 

VOICES BELOW:With what joy would we fly through the upper sky!We are washed, we are 'nointed, stark naked are we;But our toil and our pain are forever in vain. 

NOTE:_183 are editions 1839; is 1822, 1824. 

BOTH CHORUSES:The wind is still, the stars are fled, _185The melancholy moon is dead;The magic notes, like spark on spark, Drizzle, whistling through the dark. Come away!

VOICES BELOW:Stay, Oh, stay!

VOICES ABOVE:Out of the crannies of the rocks _190Who calls?

VOICES BELOW:Oh, let me join your flocks!I, three hundred years have strivenTo catch your skirt and mount to Heaven, --And still in vain. Oh, might I beWith company akin to me! _195

BOTH CHORUSES:Some on a ram and some on a prong, On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along;Forlorn is the wight who can rise not to-night. 

A HALF-WITCH BELOW:I have been tripping this many an hour:Are the others already so far before? _200No quiet at home, and no peace abroad!And less methinks is found by the road. 

CHORUS OF WITCHES:Come onward, away! aroint thee, aroint!A witch to be strong must anoint--anoint--Then every trough will be boat enough; _205With a rag for a sail we can sweep through the sky, Who flies not to-night, when means he to fly?

BOTH CHORUSES:We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground;Witch-legions thicken around and around;Wizard-swarms cover the heath all over. _210

[THEY DESCEND. ]

MEPHISTOPHELES:What thronging, dashing, raging, rustling;What whispering, babbling, hissing, bustling;What glimmering, spurting, stinking, burning, As Heaven and Earth were overturning. There is a true witch element about us; _215Take hold on me, or we shall be divided:--Where are you?

NOTE:_217 What! wanting, 1822. 

FAUST [FROM A DISTANCE]:Here!

MEPHISTOPHELES:What!I must exert my authority in the house. Place for young Voland! pray make way, good people. Take hold on me, doctor, an with one step _220Let us escape from this unpleasant crowd:They are too mad for people of my sort. Just there shines a peculiar kind of light--Something attracts me in those bushes. ComeThis way: we shall slip down there in a minute. _225

FAUST:Spirit of Contradiction! Well, lead on--'Twere a wise feat indeed to wander outInto the Brocken upon May-day night, And then to isolate oneself in scorn, Disgusted with the humours of the time. _230

MEPHISTOPHELES:See yonder, round a many-coloured flameA merry club is huddled altogether:Even with such little people as sit thereOne would not be alone. 

FAUST:Would that I wereUp yonder in the glow and whirling smoke, _235Where the blind million rush impetuouslyTo meet the evil ones; there might I solveMany a riddle that torments me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:YetMany a riddle there is tied anewInextricably. Let the great world rage! _240We will stay here safe in the quiet dwellings. 'Tis an old custom. Men have ever builtTheir own small world in the great world of all. I see young witches naked there, and old onesWisely attired with greater decency. _245Be guided now by me, and you shall buyA pound of pleasure with a dram of trouble. I hear them tune their instruments--one mustGet used to this damned scraping. Come, I'll lead youAmong them; and what there you do and see, _250As a fresh compact 'twixt us two shall be. How say you now? this space is wide enough--Look forth, you cannot see the end of it--An hundred bonfires burn in rows, and theyWho throng around them seem innumerable: _255Dancing and drinking, jabbering, making love, And cooking, are at work. Now tell me, friend, What is there better in the world than this?

NOTE:_254 An 1824; A editions 1839. 

FAUST:In introducing us, do you assumeThe character of Wizard or of Devil? _260

MEPHISTOPHELES:In truth, I generally go aboutIn strict incognito; and yet one likesTo wear one's orders upon gala days. I have no ribbon at my knee; but hereAt home, the cloven foot is honourable. _265See you that snail there?--she comes creeping up, And with her feeling eyes hath smelt out something. I could not, if I would, mask myself here. Come now, we'll go about from fire to fire:I'll be the Pimp, and you shall be the Lover. _270[TO SOME OLD WOMEN, WHO ARE SITTING ROUND A HEAP OF GLIMMERING COALS. ]Old gentlewomen, what do you do out here?You ought to be with the young riotersRight in the thickest of the revelry--But every one is best content at home. 

NOTE:_264 my wanting, 1822. 

General. Who dare confide in right or a just claim? _275So much as I had done for them! and now--With women and the people 'tis the same, Youth will stand foremost ever, --age may goTo the dark grave unhonoured. 

NOTE:_275 right editions 1824, 1839; night 1822. 

MINISTER:NowadaysPeople assert their rights: they go too far; _280But as for me, the good old times I praise;Then we were all in all--'twas something worthOne's while to be in place and wear a star;That was indeed the golden age on earth. 

PARVENU:We too are active, and we did and do _285What we ought not, perhaps; and yet we nowWill seize, whilst all things are whirled round and round, A spoke of Fortune's wheel, and keep our ground. 

NOTE:_285 Parvenu: (Note) A sort of fundholder 1822, editions 1824, 1839. 

AUTHOR:Who now can taste a treatise of deep senseAnd ponderous volume? 'tis impertinence _290To write what none will read, therefore will ITo please the young and thoughtless people try. 

NOTE:_290 ponderous 1824; wonderous 1822. 

MEPHISTOPHELES [WHO AT ONCE APPEARS TO HAVE GROWN VERY OLD]:Ifind the people ripe for the last day, Since I last came up to the wizard mountain;And as my little cask runs turbid now, _295So is the world drained to the dregs. 

PEDLAR-WITCH:Look here, Gentlemen; do not hurry on so fast;And lose the chance of a good pennyworth. I have a pack full of the choicest waresOf every sort, and yet in all my bundle _300Is nothing like what may be found on earth;Nothing that in a moment will make richMen and the world with fine malicious mischief--There is no dagger drunk with blood; no bowlFrom which consuming poison may be drained _305By innocent and healthy lips; no jewel, The price of an abandoned maiden's shame;No sword which cuts the bond it cannot loose, Or stabs the wearer's enemy in the back;No--

MEPHISTOPHELES:Gossip, you know little of these times. _310What has been, has been; what is done, is past, They shape themselves into the innovationsThey breed, and innovation drags us with it. The torrent of the crowd sweeps over us:You think to impel, and are yourself impelled. _315

FAUST:What is that yonder?

MEPHISTOPHELES:Mark her well. It isLilith. 

FAUST:Who?

MEPHISTOPHELES:Lilith, the first wife of Adam. Beware of her fair hair, for she excelsAll women in the magic of her locks;And when she winds them round a young man's neck, _320She will not ever set him free again. 

FAUST:There sit a girl and an old woman--theySeem to be tired with pleasure and with play. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:There is no rest to-night for any one:When one dance ends another is begun; _325Come, let us to it. We shall have rare fun. 

[FAUST DANCES AND SINGS WITH A GIRL, ANDMEPHISTOPHELES WITH AN OLD WOMAN. ]

FAUST:I had once a lovely dreamIn which I saw an apple-tree, Where two fair apples with their gleamTo climb and taste attracted me. _330

NOTES:_327-_334 So Boscombe manuscript ("Westminster Review", July, 1870); wanting, 1822, 1824, 1839. 

THE GIRL:She with apples you desiredFrom Paradise came long ago:With you I feel that if required, Such still within my garden grow. 

... 

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST:What is this cursed multitude about? _335Have we not long since proved to demonstrationThat ghosts move not on ordinary feet?But these are dancing just like men and women. 

NOTE:_335 Procto-Phantasmist]Brocto-Phantasmist editions 1824, 1839. 

THE GIRL:What does he want then at our ball?

FAUST:Oh! heIs far above us all in his conceit: _340Whilst we enjoy, he reasons of enjoyment;And any step which in our dance we tread, If it be left out of his reckoning, Is not to be considered as a step. There are few things that scandalize him not: _345And when you whirl round in the circle now, As he went round the wheel in his old mill, He says that you go wrong in all respects, Especially if you congratulate himUpon the strength of the resemblance. 

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST:Fly! _350Vanish! Unheard-of impudence! What, still there!In this enlightened age too, since you have beenProved not to exist!--But this infernal broodWill hear no reason and endure no rule. Are we so wise, and is the POND still haunted? _355How long have I been sweeping out this rubbishOf superstition, and the world will notCome clean with all my pains!--it is a caseUnheard of!

NOTE:_355 pond wanting in Boscombe manuscript. 

THE GIRL:Then leave off teasing us so. 

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST:I tell you, spirits, to your faces now, _360That I should not regret this despotismOf spirits, but that mine can wield it not. To-night I shall make poor work of it, Yet I will take a round with you, and hopeBefore my last step in the living dance _365To beat the poet and the devil together. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:At last he will sit down in some foul puddle;That is his way of solacing himself;Until some leech, diverted with his gravity, Cures him of spirits and the spirit together. _370[TO FAUST, WHO HAS SECEDED FROM THE DANCE. ]Why do you let that fair girl pass from you, Who sung so sweetly to you in the dance?

FAUST:A red mouse in the middle of her singingSprung from her mouth. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:That was all right, my friend:Be it enough that the mouse was not gray. _375Do not disturb your hour of happinessWith close consideration of such trifles. 

FAUST:Then saw I--

MEPHISTOPHELES:What?

FAUST:Seest thou not a pale, Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away?She drags herself now forward with slow steps, _380And seems as if she moved with shackled feet:I cannot overcome the thought that sheIs like poor Margaret. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:Let it be--pass on--No good can come of it--it is not wellTo meet it--it is an enchanted phantom, _385A lifeless idol; with its numbing look, It freezes up the blood of man; and theyWho meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone, Like those who saw Medusa. 

FAUST:Oh, too true!Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse _390Which no beloved hand has closed, alas!That is the breast which Margaret yielded to me--Those are the lovely limbs which I enjoyed!

NOTE:_392 breast editions 1839; heart 1822, 1824. 

MEPHISTOPHELES:It is all magic, poor deluded fool!She looks to every one like his first love. _395

FAUST:Oh, what delight! what woe! I cannot turnMy looks from her sweet piteous countenance. How strangely does a single blood-red line, Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife, Adorn her lovely neck!

MEPHISTOPHELES:Ay, she can carry _400Her head under her arm upon occasion;Perseus has cut it off for her. These pleasuresEnd in delusion. --Gain this rising ground, It is as airy here as in a... And if I am not mightily deceived, _405I see a theatre. --What may this mean?

ATTENDANT:Quite a new piece, the last of seven, for 'tisThe custom now to represent that number. 'Tis written by a Dilettante, andThe actors who perform are Dilettanti; _410Excuse me, gentlemen; but I must vanish. I am a Dilettante curtain-lifter. 

***

JUVENILIA. 

QUEEN MAB. 

A PHILOSOPHICAL POEM, WITH NOTES. 

[An edition (250 copies) of "Queen Mab" was printed at London in thesummer of 1813 by Shelley himself, whose name, as author and printer, appears on the title-page (see "Bibliographical List"). Of this editionabout seventy copies were privately distributed. Sections 1, 2, 8, and 9were afterwards rehandled, and the intermediate sections here and thererevised and altered; and of this new text sections 1 and 2 werepublished by Shelley in the "Alastor" volume of 1816, under the title, "The Daemon of the World". The remainder lay unpublished till 1876, whensections 8 and 9 were printed by Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C. B. , from aprinted copy of "Queen Mab" with Shelley's manuscript corrections. See"The Shelley Library", pages 36-44, for a description of this copy, which is in Mr. Forman's possession. Sources of the text are (1) theeditio princeps of 1813; (2) text (with some omissions) in the "PoeticalWorks" of 1839, edited by Mrs. Shelley; (3) text (one line only wanting)in the 2nd edition of the "Poetical Works", 1839 (same editor). 

"Queen Mab" was probably written during the year 1812--it is first heardof at Lynmouth, August 18, 1812 ("Shelley Memorials", page 39)--but thetext may be assumed to include earlier material. ]

ECRASEZ L'INFAME!--Correspondance de Voltaire. 

Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nullius anteTrita solo; juvat integros accedere fonteis;Atque haurire: juvatque novos decerpere flores. 

... 

Unde prius nulli velarint tempora musae. Primum quod magnis doceo de rebus; et arctisReligionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo. --Lucret. Lib. 4. 

Dos pon sto, kai kosmon kineso. --Archimedes. 

TO HARRIET *****. 

Whose is the love that gleaming through the world, Wards off the poisonous arrow of its scorn?Whose is the warm and partial praise, Virtue's most sweet reward?

Beneath whose looks did my reviving soul _5Riper in truth and virtuous daring grow?Whose eyes have I gazed fondly on, And loved mankind the more?

HARRIET! on thine:--thou wert my purer mind;Thou wert the inspiration of my song; _10Thine are these early wilding flowers, Though garlanded by me. 

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 _15It consecrates to thine. 

QUEEN MAB. 

1. 

How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!One, pale as yonder waning moonWith lips of lurid blue;The other, rosy as the morn _5When throned on ocean's waveIt blushes o'er the world:Yet both so passing wonderful!

Hath then the gloomy PowerWhose reign is in the tainted sepulchres _10Seized on her sinless soul?Must then that peerless formWhich love and admiration cannot viewWithout a beating heart, those azure veinsWhich steal like streams along a field of snow, _15That lovely outline, which is fairAs breathing marble, perish?Must putrefaction's breathLeave nothing of this heavenly sightBut loathsomeness and ruin? _20Spare nothing but a gloomy theme, On which the lightest heart might moralize?Or is it only a sweet slumberStealing o'er sensation, Which the breath of roseate morning _25Chaseth into darkness?Will Ianthe wake again, And give that faithful bosom joyWhose sleepless spirit waits to catchLight, life and rapture from her smile? _30

Yes! she will wake again, Although her glowing limbs are motionless, And silent those sweet lips, Once breathing eloquence, That might have soothed a tiger's rage, _35Or thawed the cold heart of a conqueror. Her dewy eyes are closed, And on their lids, whose texture fineScarce hides the dark blue orbs beneath, The baby Sleep is pillowed: _40Her golden tresses shadeThe bosom's stainless pride, Curling like tendrils of the parasiteAround a marble column. 

Hark! whence that rushing sound? _45'Tis like the wondrous strainThat round a lonely ruin swells, Which, wandering on the echoing shore, The enthusiast hears at evening:'Tis softer than the west wind's sigh; _50'Tis wilder than the unmeasured notesOf that strange lyre whose stringsThe genii of the breezes sweep:Those lines of rainbow lightAre like the moonbeams when they fall _55Through some cathedral window, but the tintsAre such as may not findComparison on earth. 

Behold the chariot of the Fairy Queen!Celestial coursers paw the unyielding air; _60Their filmy pennons at her word they furl, And stop obedient to the reins of light:These the Queen of Spells drew in, She spread a charm around the spot, And leaning graceful from the aethereal car, _65Long did she gaze, and silently, Upon the slumbering maid. 

Oh! not the visioned poet in his dreams, When silvery clouds float through the 'wildered brain, When every sight of lovely, wild and grand _70Astonishes, enraptures, elevates, When fancy at a glance combinesThe wondrous and the beautiful, --So bright, so fair, so wild a shapeHath ever yet beheld, _75As that which reined the coursers of the air, And poured the magic of her gazeUpon the maiden's sleep. 

The broad and yellow moonShone dimly through her form-- _80That form of faultless symmetry;The pearly and pellucid carMoved not the moonlight's line:'Twas not an earthly pageant:Those who had looked upon the sight, _85Passing all human glory, Saw not the yellow moon, Saw not the mortal scene, Heard not the night-wind's rush, Heard not an earthly sound, _90Saw but the fairy pageant, Heard but the heavenly strainsThat filled the lonely dwelling. 

The Fairy's frame was slight, yon fibrous cloud, That catches but the palest tinge of even, _95And which the straining eye can hardly seizeWhen melting into eastern twilight's shadow, Were scarce so thin, so slight; but the fair starThat gems the glittering coronet of morn, Sheds not a light so mild, so powerful, _100As that which, bursting from the Fairy's form, Spread a purpureal halo round the scene, Yet with an undulating motion, Swayed to her outline gracefully. 

From her celestial car _105The Fairy Queen descended, And thrice she waved her wandCircled with wreaths of amaranth:Her thin and misty formMoved with the moving air, _110And the clear silver tones, As thus she spoke, were suchAs are unheard by all but gifted ear. 

FAIRY:'Stars! your balmiest influence shed!Elements! your wrath suspend! _115Sleep, Ocean, in the rocky boundsThat circle thy domain!Let not a breath be seen to stirAround yon grass-grown ruin's height, Let even the restless gossamer _120Sleep on the moveless air!Soul of Ianthe! thou, Judged alone worthy of the envied boon, That waits the good and the sincere; that waitsThose who have struggled, and with resolute will _125Vanquished earth's pride and meanness, burst the chains, The icy chains of custom, and have shoneThe day-stars of their age;--Soul of Ianthe!Awake! arise!'

Sudden arose _130Ianthe's Soul; it stoodAll beautiful in naked purity, The perfect semblance of its bodily frame. Instinct with inexpressible beauty and grace, Each stain of earthliness _135Had passed away, it reassumedIts native dignity, and stoodImmortal amid ruin. 

Upon the couch the body layWrapped in the depth of slumber: _140Its features were fixed and meaningless, Yet animal life was there, And every organ yet performedIts natural functions: 'twas a sightOf wonder to behold the body and soul. _145The self-same lineaments, the sameMarks of identity were there:Yet, oh, how different! One aspires to Heaven, Pants for its sempiternal heritage, And ever-changing, ever-rising still, _150Wantons in endless being. The other, for a time the unwilling sportOf circumstance and passion, struggles on;Fleets through its sad duration rapidly:Then, like an useless and worn-out machine, _155Rots, perishes, and passes. 

FAIRY:'Spirit! who hast dived so deep;Spirit! who hast soared so high;Thou the fearless, thou the mild, Accept the boon thy worth hath earned, _160Ascend the car with me. '

SPIRIT:'Do I dream? Is this new feelingBut a visioned ghost of slumber?If indeed I am a soul, A free, a disembodied soul, _165Speak again to me. '

FAIRY:'I am the Fairy MAB: to me 'tis givenThe wonders of the human world to keep:The secrets of the immeasurable past, In the unfailing consciences of men, _170Those stern, unflattering chroniclers, I find:The future, from the causes which ariseIn each event, I gather: not the stingWhich retributive memory implantsIn the hard bosom of the selfish man; _175Nor that ecstatic and exulting throbWhich virtue's votary feels when he sums upThe thoughts and actions of a well-spent day, Are unforeseen, unregistered by me:And it is yet permitted me, to rend _180The veil of mortal frailty, that the spirit, Clothed in its changeless purity, may knowHow soonest to accomplish the great endFor which it hath its being, and may tasteThat peace, which in the end all life will share. _185This is the meed of virtue; happy Soul, Ascend the car with me!'

The chains of earth's immurementFell from Ianthe's spirit;They shrank and brake like bandages of straw _190Beneath a wakened giant's strength. She knew her glorious change, And felt in apprehension uncontrolledNew raptures opening round:Each day-dream of her mortal life, _195Each frenzied vision of the slumbersThat closed each well-spent day, Seemed now to meet reality. 

The Fairy and the Soul proceeded;The silver clouds disparted; _200And as the car of magic they ascended, Again the speechless music swelled, Again the coursers of the airUnfurled their azure pennons, and the QueenShaking the beamy reins _205Bade them pursue their way. 

The magic car moved on. The night was fair, and countless starsStudded Heaven's dark blue vault, --Just o'er the eastern wave _210Peeped the first faint smile of morn:--The magic car moved on--From the celestial hoofsThe atmosphere in flaming sparkles flew, And where the burning wheels _215Eddied above the mountain's loftiest peak, Was traced a line of lightning. Now it flew far above a rock, The utmost verge of earth, The rival of the Andes, whose dark brow _220Lowered o'er the silver sea. 

Far, far below the chariot's path, Calm as a slumbering babe, Tremendous Ocean lay. The mirror of its stillness showed _225The pale and waning stars, The chariot's fiery track, And the gray light of mornTinging those fleecy cloudsThat canopied the dawn. _230Seemed it, that the chariot's wayLay through the midst of an immense concave, Radiant with million constellations, tingedWith shades of infinite colour, And semicircled with a belt _235Flashing incessant meteors. 

The magic car moved on. As they approached their goalThe coursers seemed to gather speed;The sea no longer was distinguished; earth _240Appeared a vast and shadowy sphere;The sun's unclouded orbRolled through the black concave;Its rays of rapid lightParted around the chariot's swifter course, _245And fell, like ocean's feathery sprayDashed from the boiling surgeBefore a vessel's prow. 

The magic car moved on. Earth's distant orb appeared _250The smallest light that twinkles in the heaven;Whilst round the chariot's wayInnumerable systems rolled, And countless spheres diffusedAn ever-varying glory. _255It was a sight of wonder: someWere horned like the crescent moon;Some shed a mild and silver beamLike Hesperus o'er the western sea;Some dashed athwart with trains of flame, _260Like worlds to death and ruin driven;Some shone like suns, and, as the chariot passed, Eclipsed all other light. 

Spirit of Nature! here!In this interminable wilderness _265Of worlds, at whose immensityEven soaring fancy staggers, Here is thy fitting temple. Yet not the lightest leafThat quivers to the passing breeze _270Is less instinct with thee:Yet not the meanest wormThat lurks in graves and fattens on the deadLess shares thy eternal breath. Spirit of Nature! thou! _275Imperishable as this scene, Here is thy fitting temple. 

2. 

If solitude hath ever led thy stepsTo the wild Ocean's echoing shore, And thou hast lingered there, Until the sun's broad orbSeemed resting on the burnished wave, _5Thou must have marked the linesOf purple gold, that motionlessHung o'er the sinking sphere:Thou must have marked the billowy cloudsEdged with intolerable radiancy _10Towering like rocks of jetCrowned with a diamond wreath. And yet there is a moment, When the sun's highest pointPeeps like a star o'er Ocean's western edge, _15When those far clouds of feathery gold, Shaded with deepest purple, gleamLike islands on a dark blue sea;Then has thy fancy soared above the earth, And furled its wearied wing _20Within the Fairy's fane. 

Yet not the golden islandsGleaming in yon flood of light, Nor the feathery curtainsStretching o'er the sun's bright couch, _25Nor the burnished Ocean wavesPaving that gorgeous dome, So fair, so wonderful a sightAs Mab's aethereal palace could afford. Yet likest evening's vault, that faery Hall! _30As Heaven, low resting on the wave, it spreadIts floors of flashing light, Its vast and azure dome, Its fertile golden islandsFloating on a silver sea; _35Whilst suns their mingling beamings dartedThrough clouds of circumambient darkness, And pearly battlements aroundLooked o'er the immense of Heaven. 

The magic car no longer moved. _40The Fairy and the SpiritEntered the Hall of Spells:Those golden cloudsThat rolled in glittering billowsBeneath the azure canopy _45With the aethereal footsteps trembled not:The light and crimson mists, Floating to strains of thrilling melodyThrough that unearthly dwelling, Yielded to every movement of the will. _50Upon their passive swell the Spirit leaned, And, for the varied bliss that pressed around, Used not the glorious privilegeOf virtue and of wisdom. 

'Spirit!' the Fairy said, _55And pointed to the gorgeous dome, 'This is a wondrous sightAnd mocks all human grandeur;But, were it virtue's only meed, to dwellIn a celestial palace, all resigned _60To pleasurable impulses, immuredWithin the prison of itself, the willOf changeless Nature would be unfulfilled. Learn to make others happy. Spirit, come!This is thine high reward:--the past shall rise; _65Thou shalt behold the present; I will teachThe secrets of the future. '

The Fairy and the SpiritApproached the overhanging battlement. --Below lay stretched the universe! _70There, far as the remotest lineThat bounds imagination's flight, Countless and unending orbsIn mazy motion intermingled, Yet still fulfilled immutably _75Eternal Nature's law. Above, below, around, The circling systems formedA wilderness of harmony;Each with undeviating aim, _80In eloquent silence, through the depths of spacePursued its wondrous way. 

There was a little lightThat twinkled in the misty distance:None but a spirit's eye _85Might ken that rolling orb;None but a spirit's eye, And in no other placeBut that celestial dwelling, might beholdEach action of this earth's inhabitants. _90But matter, space and timeIn those aereal mansions cease to act;And all-prevailing wisdom, when it reapsThe harvest of its excellence, o'er-boundsThose obstacles, of which an earthly soul _95Fears to attempt the conquest. 

The Fairy pointed to the earth. The Spirit's intellectual eyeIts kindred beings recognized. The thronging thousands, to a passing view, _100Seemed like an ant-hill's citizens. How wonderful! that evenThe passions, prejudices, interests, That sway the meanest being, the weak touchThat moves the finest nerve, _105And in one human brainCauses the faintest thought, becomes a linkIn the great chain of Nature. 

'Behold, ' the Fairy cried, 'Palmyra's ruined palaces!-- _110Behold! where grandeur frowned;Behold! where pleasure smiled;What now remains?--the memoryOf senselessness and shame--What is immortal there? _115Nothing--it stands to tellA melancholy tale, to giveAn awful warning: soonOblivion will steal silentlyThe remnant of its fame. _120Monarchs and conquerors thereProud o'er prostrate millions trod--The earthquakes of the human race;Like them, forgotten when the ruinThat marks their shock is past. _125

'Beside the eternal Nile, The Pyramids have risen. Nile shall pursue his changeless way:Those Pyramids shall fall;Yea! not a stone shall stand to tell _130The spot whereon they stood!Their very site shall be forgotten, As is their builder's name!

'Behold yon sterile spot;Where now the wandering Arab's tent _135Flaps in the desert-blast. There once old Salem's haughty faneReared high to Heaven its thousand golden domes, And in the blushing face of dayExposed its shameful glory. _140Oh! many a widow, many an orphan cursedThe building of that fane; and many a father;Worn out with toil and slavery, imploredThe poor man's God to sweep it from the earth, And spare his children the detested task _145Of piling stone on stone, and poisoningThe choicest days of life, To soothe a dotard's vanity. There an inhuman and uncultured raceHowled hideous praises to their Demon-God; _150They rushed to war, tore from the mother's wombThe unborn child, --old age and infancyPromiscuous perished; their victorious armsLeft not a soul to breathe. Oh! they were fiends:But what was he who taught them that the God _155Of nature and benevolence hath givenA special sanction to the trade of blood?His name and theirs are fading, and the talesOf this barbarian nation, which impostureRecites till terror credits, are pursuing _160Itself into forgetfulness. 

'Where Athens, Rome, and Sparta stood, There is a moral desert now:The mean and miserable huts, The yet more wretched palaces, _165Contrasted with those ancient fanes, Now crumbling to oblivion;The long and lonely colonnades, Through which the ghost of Freedom stalks, Seem like a well-known tune, _170Which in some dear scene we have loved to hear, Remembered now in sadness. But, oh! how much more changed, How gloomier is the contrastOf human nature there! _175Where Socrates expired, a tyrant's slave, A coward and a fool, spreads death around--Then, shuddering, meets his own. Where Cicero and Antoninus lived, A cowled and hypocritical monk _180Prays, curses and deceives. 

'Spirit, ten thousand yearsHave scarcely passed away, Since, in the waste where now the savage drinksHis enemy's blood, and aping Europe's sons, _185Wakes the unholy song of war, Arose a stately city, Metropolis of the western continent:There, now, the mossy column-stone, Indented by Time's unrelaxing grasp, _190Which once appeared to braveAll, save its country's ruin;There the wide forest scene, Rude in the uncultivated lovelinessOf gardens long run wild, _195Seems, to the unwilling sojourner, whose stepsChance in that desert has delayed, Thus to have stood since earth was what it is. Yet once it was the busiest haunt, Whither, as to a common centre, flocked _200Strangers, and ships, and merchandise:Once peace and freedom blessedThe cultivated plain:But wealth, that curse of man, Blighted the bud of its prosperity: _205Virtue and wisdom, truth and liberty, Fled, to return not, until man shall knowThat they alone can give the blissWorthy a soul that claimsIts kindred with eternity. _210

'There's not one atom of yon earthBut once was living man;Nor the minutest drop of rain, That hangeth in its thinnest cloud, But flowed in human veins: _215And from the burning plainsWhere Libyan monsters yell, From the most gloomy glensOf Greenland's sunless clime, To where the golden fields _220Of fertile England spreadTheir harvest to the day, Thou canst not find one spotWhereon no city stood. 

'How strange is human pride! _225I tell thee that those living things, To whom the fragile blade of grass, That springeth in the mornAnd perisheth ere noon, Is an unbounded world; _230I tell thee that those viewless beings, Whose mansion is the smallest particleOf the impassive atmosphere, Think, feel and live like man;That their affections and antipathies, _235Like his, produce the lawsRuling their moral state;And the minutest throbThat through their frame diffusesThe slightest, faintest motion, _240Is fixed and indispensableAs the majestic lawsThat rule yon rolling orbs. '

The Fairy paused. The Spirit, In ecstasy of admiration, felt _245All knowledge of the past revived; the eventsOf old and wondrous times, Which dim tradition interruptedlyTeaches the credulous vulgar, were unfoldedIn just perspective to the view; _250Yet dim from their infinitude. The Spirit seemed to standHigh on an isolated pinnacle;The flood of ages combating below, The depth of the unbounded universe _255Above, and all aroundNature's unchanging harmony. 

3. 

'Fairy!' the Spirit said, And on the Queen of SpellsFixed her aethereal eyes, 'I thank thee. Thou hast givenA boon which I will not resign, and taught _5A lesson not to be unlearned. I knowThe past, and thence I will essay to gleanA warning for the future, so that manMay profit by his errors, and deriveExperience from his folly: _10For, when the power of imparting joyIs equal to the will, the human soulRequires no other Heaven. '

MAB:'Turn thee, surpassing Spirit!Much yet remains unscanned. _15Thou knowest how great is man, Thou knowest his imbecility:Yet learn thou what he is:Yet learn the lofty destinyWhich restless time prepares _20For every living soul. 

'Behold a gorgeous palace, that, amidYon populous city rears its thousand towersAnd seems itself a city. Gloomy troopsOf sentinels, in stern and silent ranks, _25Encompass it around: the dweller thereCannot be free and happy; hearest thou notThe curses of the fatherless, the groansOf those who have no friend? He passes on:The King, the wearer of a gilded chain _30That binds his soul to abjectness, the foolWhom courtiers nickname monarch, whilst a slaveEven to the basest appetites--that manHeeds not the shriek of penury; he smilesAt the deep curses which the destitute _35Mutter in secret, and a sullen joyPervades his bloodless heart when thousands groanBut for those morsels which his wantonnessWastes in unjoyous revelry, to saveAll that they love from famine: when he hears _40The tale of horror, to some ready-made faceOf hypocritical assent he turns, Smothering the glow of shame, that, spite of him, Flushes his bloated cheek. Now to the mealOf silence, grandeur, and excess, he drags _45His palled unwilling appetite. If gold, Gleaming around, and numerous viands culledFrom every clime, could force the loathing senseTo overcome satiety, --if wealthThe spring it draws from poisons not, --or vice, _50Unfeeling, stubborn vice, converteth notIts food to deadliest venom; then that kingIs happy; and the peasant who fulfilsHis unforced task, when he returns at even, And by the blazing faggot meets again _55Her welcome for whom all his toil is sped, Tastes not a sweeter meal. Behold him nowStretched on the gorgeous couch; his fevered brainReels dizzily awhile: but ah! too soonThe slumber of intemperance subsides, _60And conscience, that undying serpent, callsHer venomous brood to their nocturnal task. Listen! he speaks! oh! mark that frenzied eye--Oh! mark that deadly visage. '

KING:'No cessation!Oh! must this last for ever? Awful Death, _65I wish, yet fear to clasp thee!--Not one momentOf dreamless sleep! O dear and blessed peace!Why dost thou shroud thy vestal purityIn penury and dungeons? wherefore lurkestWith danger, death, and solitude; yet shunn'st _70The palace I have built thee? Sacred peace!Oh visit me but once, but pitying shedOne drop of balm upon my withered soul. '

THE FAIRY:'Vain man! that palace is the virtuous heart, And Peace defileth not her snowy robes _75In such a shed as thine. Hark! yet he mutters;His slumbers are but varied agonies, They prey like scorpions on the springs of life. There needeth not the hell that bigots frameTo punish those who err: earth in itself _80Contains at once the evil and the cure;And all-sufficing Nature can chastiseThose who transgress her law, --she only knowsHow justly to proportion to the faultThe punishment it merits. Is it strange _85That this poor wretch should pride him in his woe?Take pleasure in his abjectness, and hugThe scorpion that consumes him? Is it strangeThat, placed on a conspicuous throne of thorns, Grasping an iron sceptre, and immured _90Within a splendid prison, whose stern boundsShut him from all that's good or dear on earth, His soul asserts not its humanity?That man's mild nature rises not in warAgainst a king's employ? No--'tis not strange. _95He, like the vulgar, thinks, feels, acts and livesJust as his father did; the unconquered powersOf precedent and custom interposeBetween a KING and virtue. Stranger yet, To those who know not Nature, nor deduce _100The future from the present, it may seem, That not one slave, who suffers from the crimesOf this unnatural being; not one wretch, Whose children famish, and whose nuptial bedIs earth's unpitying bosom, rears an armTo dash him from his throne! _105Those gilded fliesThat, basking in the sunshine of a court, Fatten on its corruption!--what are they?--The drones of the community; they feedOn the mechanic's labour: the starved hind _110For them compels the stubborn glebe to yieldIts unshared harvests; and yon squalid form, Leaner than fleshless misery, that wastesA sunless life in the unwholesome mine, Drags out in labour a protracted death, _115To glut their grandeur; many faint with toil, That few may know the cares and woe of sloth. 

'Whence, think'st thou, kings and parasites arose?Whence that unnatural line of drones, who heapToil and unvanquishable penury _120On those who build their palaces, and bringTheir daily bread?--From vice, black loathsome vice;From rapine, madness, treachery, and wrong;From all that 'genders misery, and makesOf earth this thorny wilderness; from lust, _125Revenge, and murder... And when Reason's voice, Loud as the voice of Nature, shall have wakedThe nations; and mankind perceive that viceIs discord, war, and misery; that virtueIs peace, and happiness and harmony; _130When man's maturer nature shall disdainThe playthings of its childhood;--kingly glareWill lose its power to dazzle; its authorityWill silently pass by; the gorgeous throneShall stand unnoticed in the regal hall, _135Fast falling to decay; whilst falsehood's tradeShall be as hateful and unprofitableAs that of truth is now. Where is the fameWhich the vainglorious mighty of the earthSeek to eternize? Oh! the faintest sound _140From Time's light footfall, the minutest waveThat swells the flood of ages, whelms in nothingThe unsubstantial bubble. Ay! todayStern is the tyrant's mandate, red the gazeThat flashes desolation, strong the arm _145That scatters multitudes. To-morrow comes!That mandate is a thunder-peal that diedIn ages past; that gaze, a transient flashOn which the midnight closed, and on that armThe worm has made his meal. The virtuous man, _150Who, great in his humility, as kingsAre little in their grandeur; he who leadsInvincibly a life of resolute good, And stands amid the silent dungeon depthsMore free and fearless than the trembling judge, _155Who, clothed in venal power, vainly stroveTo bind the impassive spirit;--when he falls, His mild eye beams benevolence no more:Withered the hand outstretched but to relieve;Sunk Reason's simple eloquence, that rolled _160But to appal the guilty. Yes! the graveHath quenched that eye, and Death's relentless frostWithered that arm: but the unfading fameWhich Virtue hangs upon its votary's tomb;The deathless memory of that man, whom kings _165Call to their mind and tremble; the remembranceWith which the happy spirit contemplatesIts well-spent pilgrimage on earth, Shall never pass away. 

'Nature rejects the monarch, not the man; _170The subject, not the citizen: for kingsAnd subjects, mutual foes, forever playA losing game into each other's hands, Whose stakes are vice and misery. The manOf virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys. _175Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanized automaton. When Nero, _180High over flaming Rome, with savage joyLowered like a fiend, drank with enraptured earThe shrieks of agonizing death, beheldThe frightful desolation spread, and feltA new-created sense within his soul _185Thrill to the sight, and vibrate to the sound;Think'st thou his grandeur had not overcomeThe force of human kindness? and, when Rome, With one stern blow, hurled not the tyrant down, Crushed not the arm red with her dearest blood _190Had not submissive abjectness destroyedNature's suggestions?Look on yonder earth:The golden harvests spring; the unfailing sunSheds light and life; the fruits, the flowers, the trees, Arise in due succession; all things speak _195Peace, harmony, and love. The universe, In Nature's silent eloquence, declaresThat all fulfil the works of love and joy, --All but the outcast, Man. He fabricatesThe sword which stabs his peace; he cherisheth _200The snakes that gnaw his heart; he raiseth upThe tyrant, whose delight is in his woe, Whose sport is in his agony. Yon sun, Lights it the great alone? Yon silver beams, Sleep they less sweetly on the cottage thatch _205Than on the dome of kings? Is mother EarthA step-dame to her numerous sons, who earnHer unshared gifts with unremitting toil;A mother only to those puling babesWho, nursed in ease and luxury, make men _210The playthings of their babyhood, and mar, In self-important childishness, that peaceWhich men alone appreciate?

'Spirit of Nature! no. The pure diffusion of thy essence throbs _215Alike in every human heart. Thou, aye, erectest thereThy throne of power unappealable:Thou art the judge beneath whose nodMan's brief and frail authority _220Is powerless as the windThat passeth idly by. Thine the tribunal which surpassethThe show of human justice, As God surpasses man. _225

'Spirit of Nature! thouLife of interminable multitudes;Soul of those mighty spheresWhose changeless paths throughHeaven's deep silence lie;Soul of that smallest being, _230The dwelling of whose lifeIs one faint April sun-gleam;--Man, like these passive things, Thy will unconsciously fulfilleth:Like theirs, his age of endless peace, _235Which time is fast maturing, Will swiftly, surely come;And the unbounded frame, which thou pervadest, Will be without a flawMarring its perfect symmetry. _240

4. 

'How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh, Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear, Were discord to the speaking quietudeThat wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon vault, Studded with stars unutterably bright, _5Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love had spreadTo curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, Robed in a garment of untrodden snow;Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend, _10So stainless, that their white and glittering spiresTinge not the moon's pure beam; yon castled steep, Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn towerSo idly, that rapt fancy deemeth itA metaphor of peace;--all form a scene _15Where musing Solitude might love to liftHer soul above this sphere of earthliness;Where Silence undisturbed might watch alone, So cold, so bright, so still. The orb of day, In southern climes, o'er ocean's waveless field _20Sinks sweetly smiling: not the faintest breathSteals o'er the unruffled deep; the clouds of eveReflect unmoved the lingering beam of day;And vesper's image on the western mainIs beautifully still. To-morrow comes: _25Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, Roll o'er the blackened waters; the deep roarOf distant thunder mutters awfully;Tempest unfolds its pinion o'er the gloomThat shrouds the boiling surge; the pitiless fiend, _30With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey;The torn deep yawns, --the vessel finds a graveBeneath its jagged gulf. Ah! whence yon glareThat fires the arch of Heaven!--that dark red smokeBlotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched _35In darkness, and the pure and spangling snowGleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round!Hark to that roar, whose swift and deaf'ning pealsIn countless echoes through the mountains ring, Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne! _40Now swells the intermingling din; the jarFrequent and frightful of the bursting bomb;The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the shout, The ceaseless clangour, and the rush of menInebriate with rage:--loud, and more loud _45The discord grows; till pale Death shuts the scene, And o'er the conqueror and the conquered drawsHis cold and bloody shroud. --Of all the menWhom day's departing beam saw blooming there, In proud and vigorous health; of all the hearts _50That beat with anxious life at sunset there;How few survive, how few are beating now!All is deep silence, like the fearful calmThat slumbers in the storm's portentous pause;Save when the frantic wail of widowed love _55Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moanWith which some soul bursts from the frame of clayWrapped round its struggling powers. The gray mornDawns on the mournful scene; the sulphurous smokeBefore the icy wind slow rolls away, _60And the bright beams of frosty morning danceAlong the spangling snow. There tracks of bloodEven to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments _65Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful pathOf the outsallying victors: far behind, Black ashes note where their proud city stood. Within yon forest is a gloomy glen--Each tree which guards its darkness from the day, Waves o'er a warrior's tomb. I see thee shrink, _70Surpassing Spirit!--wert thou human else?I see a shade of doubt and horror fleetAcross thy stainless features: yet fear not;This is no unconnected misery, Nor stands uncaused, and irretrievable. _75Man's evil nature, that apologyWhich kings who rule, and cowards who crouch, set upFor their unnumbered crimes, sheds not the bloodWhich desolates the discord-wasted land. From kings, and priests, and statesmen, war arose, _80Whose safety is man's deep unbettered woe, Whose grandeur his debasement. Let the axeStrike at the root, the poison-tree will fall;And where its venomed exhalations spreadRuin, and death, and woe, where millions lay _85Quenching the serpent's famine, and their bonesBleaching unburied in the putrid blast, A garden shall arise, in lovelinessSurpassing fabled Eden. Hath Nature's soul, That formed this world so beautiful, that spread _90Earth's lap with plenty, and life's smallest chordStrung to unchanging unison, that gaveThe happy birds their dwelling in the grove, That yielded to the wanderers of the deepThe lovely silence of the unfathomed main, _95And filled the meanest worm that crawls in dustWith spirit, thought, and love; on Man alone, Partial in causeless malice, wantonlyHeaped ruin, vice, and slavery; his soulBlasted with withering curses; placed afar _100The meteor-happiness, that shuns his grasp, But serving on the frightful gulf to glare, Rent wide beneath his footsteps?Nature!--no!Kings, priests, and statesmen, blast the human flowerEven in its tender bud; their influence darts _105Like subtle poison through the bloodless veinsOf desolate society. The child, Ere he can lisp his mother's sacred name, Swells with the unnatural pride of crime, and liftsHis baby-sword even in a hero's mood. _110This infant-arm becomes the bloodiest scourgeOf devastated earth; whilst specious names, Learned in soft childhood's unsuspecting hour, Serve as the sophisms with which manhood dimsBright Reason's ray, and sanctifies the sword _115Upraised to shed a brother's innocent blood. Let priest-led slaves cease to proclaim that manInherits vice and misery, when ForceAnd Falsehood hang even o'er the cradled babeStifling with rudest grasp all natural good. _120'Ah! to the stranger-soul, when first it peepsFrom its new tenement, and looks abroadFor happiness and sympathy, how sternAnd desolate a tract is this wide world!How withered all the buds of natural good! _125No shade, no shelter from the sweeping stormsOf pitiless power! On its wretched frame, Poisoned, perchance, by the disease and woeHeaped on the wretched parent whence it sprungBy morals, law, and custom, the pure winds _130Of Heaven, that renovate the insect tribes, May breathe not. The untainting light of dayMay visit not its longings. It is boundEre it has life: yea, all the chains are forgedLong ere its being: all liberty and love _135And peace is torn from its defencelessness;Cursed from its birth, even from its cradle doomedTo abjectness and bondage!

'Throughout this varied and eternal worldSoul is the only element: the block _140That for uncounted ages has remainedThe moveless pillar of a mountain's weightIs active, living spirit. Every grainIs sentient both in unity and part, And the minutest atom comprehends _145A world of loves and hatreds; these begetEvil and good: hence truth and falsehood spring;Hence will and thought and action, all the germsOf pain or pleasure, sympathy or hate, That variegate the eternal universe. _150Soul is not more polluted than the beamsOf Heaven's pure orb, ere round their rapid linesThe taint of earth-born atmospheres arise. 

'Man is of soul and body, formed for deedsOf high resolve, on fancy's boldest wing _155To soar unwearied, fearlessly to turnThe keenest pangs to peacefulness, and tasteThe joys which mingled sense and spirit yield. Or he is formed for abjectness and woe, To grovel on the dunghill of his fears, _160To shrink at every sound, to quench the flameOf natural love in sensualism, to knowThat hour as blessed when on his worthless daysThe frozen hand of Death shall set its seal, Yet fear the cure, though hating the disease. _165The one is man that shall hereafter be;The other, man as vice has made him now. 

'War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade, And, to those royal murderers, whose mean thrones _170Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore, The bread they eat, the staff on which they lean. Guards, garbed in blood-red livery, surroundTheir palaces, participate the crimesThat force defends, and from a nation's rage _175Secure the crown, which all the curses reachThat famine, frenzy, woe and penury breathe. These are the hired bravos who defendThe tyrant's throne--the bullies of his fear:These are the sinks and channels of worst vice, _180The refuse of society, the dregsOf all that is most vile: their cold hearts blendDeceit with sternness, ignorance with pride, All that is mean and villanous, with rageWhich hopelessness of good, and self-contempt, _185Alone might kindle; they are decked in wealth, Honour and power, then are sent abroadTo do their work. The pestilence that stalksIn gloomy triumph through some eastern landIs less destroying. They cajole with gold, _190And promises of fame, the thoughtless youthAlready crushed with servitude: he knowsHis wretchedness too late, and cherishesRepentance for his ruin, when his doomIs sealed in gold and blood! _195Those too the tyrant serve, who, skilled to snareThe feet of Justice in the toils of law, Stand, ready to oppress the weaker still;And right or wrong will vindicate for gold, Sneering at public virtue, which beneath _200Their pitiless tread lies torn and trampled, whereHonour sits smiling at the sale of truth. 

'Then grave and hoary-headed hypocrites, Without a hope, a passion, or a love, Who, through a life of luxury and lies, _205Have crept by flattery to the seats of power, Support the system whence their honours flow... They have three words:--well tyrants know their use, Well pay them for the loan, with usuryTorn from a bleeding world!--God, Hell, and Heaven. _210A vengeful, pitiless, and almighty fiend, Whose mercy is a nickname for the rageOf tameless tigers hungering for blood. Hell, a red gulf of everlasting fire, Where poisonous and undying worms prolong _215Eternal misery to those hapless slavesWhose life has been a penance for its crimes. And Heaven, a meed for those who dare belieTheir human nature, quake, believe, and cringeBefore the mockeries of earthly power. _220

'These tools the tyrant tempers to his work, Wields in his wrath, and as he wills destroys, Omnipotent in wickedness: the whileYouth springs, age moulders, manhood tamely doesHis bidding, bribed by short-lived joys to lend _225Force to the weakness of his trembling arm. 

'They rise, they fall; one generation comesYielding its harvest to destruction's scythe. It fades, another blossoms: yet behold!Red glows the tyrant's stamp-mark on its bloom, _230Withering and cankering deep its passive prime. He has invented lying words and modes, Empty and vain as his own coreless heart;Evasive meanings, nothings of much sound, To lure the heedless victim to the toils _235Spread round the valley of its paradise. 

'Look to thyself, priest, conqueror, or prince!Whether thy trade is falsehood, and thy lustsDeep wallow in the earnings of the poor, With whom thy Master was:--or thou delight'st _240In numbering o'er the myriads of thy slain, All misery weighing nothing in the scaleAgainst thy short-lived fame: or thou dost loadWith cowardice and crime the groaning land, A pomp-fed king. Look to thy wretched self! _245Ay, art thou not the veriest slave that e'erCrawled on the loathing earth? Are not thy daysDays of unsatisfying listlessness?Dost thou not cry, ere night's long rack is o'er, "When will the morning come?" Is not thy youth _250A vain and feverish dream of sensualism?Thy manhood blighted with unripe disease?Are not thy views of unregretted deathDrear, comfortless, and horrible? Thy mind, Is it not morbid as thy nerveless frame, _255Incapable of judgement, hope, or love?And dost thou wish the errors to surviveThat bar thee from all sympathies of good, After the miserable interestThou hold'st in their protraction? When the grave _260Has swallowed up thy memory and thyself, Dost thou desire the bane that poisons earthTo twine its roots around thy coffined clay, Spring from thy bones, and blossom on thy tomb, That of its fruit thy babes may eat and die? _265

NOTE:_176 Secures edition 1813. 

5. 

'Thus do the generations of the earthGo to the grave, and issue from the womb, Surviving still the imperishable changeThat renovates the world; even as the leavesWhich the keen frost-wind of the waning year _5Has scattered on the forest soil, and heapedFor many seasons there--though long they choke, Loading with loathsome rottenness the land, All germs of promise, yet when the tall treesFrom which they fell, shorn of their lovely shapes, _10Lie level with the earth to moulder there, They fertilize the land they long deformed, Till from the breathing lawn a forest springsOf youth, integrity, and loveliness, Like that which gave it life, to spring and die. _15Thus suicidal selfishness, that blightsThe fairest feelings of the opening heart, Is destined to decay, whilst from the soilShall spring all virtue, all delight, all love, And judgement cease to wage unnatural war _20With passion's unsubduable array. Twin-sister of religion, selfishness!Rival in crime and falsehood, aping allThe wanton horrors of her bloody play;Yet frozen, unimpassioned, spiritless, _25Shunning the light, and owning not its name, Compelled, by its deformity, to screen, With flimsy veil of justice and of right, Its unattractive lineaments, that scareAll, save the brood of ignorance: at once _30The cause and the effect of tyranny;Unblushing, hardened, sensual, and vile;Dead to all love but of its abjectness, With heart impassive by more noble powersThan unshared pleasure, sordid gain, or fame; _35Despising its own miserable being, Which still it longs, yet fears to disenthrall. 

'Hence commerce springs, the venal interchangeOf all that human art or nature yield;Which wealth should purchase not, but want demand, _40And natural kindness hasten to supplyFrom the full fountain of its boundless love, For ever stifled, drained, and tainted now. Commerce! beneath whose poison-breathing shadeNo solitary virtue dares to spring, _45But Poverty and Wealth with equal handScatter their withering curses, and unfoldThe doors of premature and violent death, To pining famine and full-fed disease, To all that shares the lot of human life, _50Which poisoned, body and soul, scarce drags the chain, That lengthens as it goes and clanks behind. 

'Commerce has set the mark of selfishness, The signet of its all-enslaving powerUpon a shining ore, and called it gold: _55Before whose image bow the vulgar great, The vainly rich, the miserable proud, The mob of peasants, nobles, priests, and kings, And with blind feelings reverence the powerThat grinds them to the dust of misery. _60But in the temple of their hireling heartsGold is a living god, and rules in scornAll earthly things but virtue. 

'Since tyrants, by the sale of human life, Heap luxuries to their sensualism, and fame _65To their wide-wasting and insatiate pride, Success has sanctioned to a credulous worldThe ruin, the disgrace, the woe of war. His hosts of blind and unresisting dupesThe despot numbers; from his cabinet _70These puppets of his schemes he moves at will, Even as the slaves by force or famine driven, Beneath a vulgar master, to performA task of cold and brutal drudgery;--Hardened to hope, insensible to fear, _75Scarce living pulleys of a dead machine, Mere wheels of work and articles of trade, That grace the proud and noisy pomp of wealth!

'The harmony and happiness of manYields to the wealth of nations; that which lifts _80His nature to the heaven of its pride, Is bartered for the poison of his soul;The weight that drags to earth his towering hopes, Blighting all prospect but of selfish gain, Withering all passion but of slavish fear, _85Extinguishing all free and generous loveOf enterprise and daring, even the pulseThat fancy kindles in the beating heartTo mingle with sensation, it destroys, --Leaves nothing but the sordid lust of self, _90The grovelling hope of interest and gold, Unqualified, unmingled, unredeemedEven by hypocrisy. And statesmen boastOf wealth! The wordy eloquence, that livesAfter the ruin of their hearts, can gild _95The bitter poison of a nation's woe, Can turn the worship of the servile mobTo their corrupt and glaring idol, Fame, From Virtue, trampled by its iron tread, Although its dazzling pedestal be raised _100Amid the horrors of a limb-strewn field, With desolated dwellings smoking round. The man of ease, who, by his warm fireside, To deeds of charitable intercourse, And bare fulfilment of the common laws _105Of decency and prejudice, confinesThe struggling nature of his human heart, Is duped by their cold sophistry; he shedsA passing tear perchance upon the wreckOf earthly peace, when near his dwelling's door _110The frightful waves are driven, --when his sonIs murdered by the tyrant, or religionDrives his wife raving mad. But the poor man, Whose life is misery, and fear, and care;Whom the morn wakens but to fruitless toil; _115Who ever hears his famished offspring's scream, Whom their pale mother's uncomplaining gazeFor ever meets, and the proud rich man's eyeFlashing command, and the heart-breaking sceneOf thousands like himself;--he little heeds _120The rhetoric of tyranny; his hateIs quenchless as his wrongs; he laughs to scornThe vain and bitter mockery of words, Feeling the horror of the tyrant's deeds, And unrestrained but by the arm of power, _125That knows and dreads his enmity. 

'The iron rod of Penury still compelsHer wretched slave to bow the knee to wealth, And poison, with unprofitable toil, A life too void of solace to confirm _130The very chains that bind him to his doom. Nature, impartial in munificence, Has gifted man with all-subduing will. Matter, with all its transitory shapes, Lies subjected and plastic at his feet, _135That, weak from bondage, tremble as they tread. How many a rustic Milton has passed by, Stifling the speechless longings of his heart, In unremitting drudgery and care!How many a vulgar Cato has compelled _140His energies, no longer tameless then, To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail!How many a Newton, to whose passive kenThose mighty spheres that gem infinityWere only specks of tinsel, fixed in Heaven _145To light the midnights of his native town!

'Yet every heart contains perfection's germ:The wisest of the sages of the earth, That ever from the stores of reason drewScience and truth, and virtue's dreadless tone, _150Were but a weak and inexperienced boy, Proud, sensual, unimpassioned, unimbuedWith pure desire and universal love, Compared to that high being, of cloudless brain, Untainted passion, elevated will, _155Which Death (who even would linger long in aweWithin his noble presence, and beneathHis changeless eyebeam) might alone subdue. Him, every slave now dragging through the filthOf some corrupted city his sad life, _160Pining with famine, swoln with luxury, Blunting the keenness of his spiritual senseWith narrow schemings and unworthy cares, Or madly rushing through all violent crime, To move the deep stagnation of his soul, -- _165Might imitate and equal. But mean lustHas bound its chains so tight around the earth, That all within it but the virtuous manIs venal: gold or fame will surely reachThe price prefixed by selfishness, to all _170But him of resolute and unchanging will;Whom, nor the plaudits of a servile crowd, Nor the vile joys of tainting luxury, Can bribe to yield his elevated soulTo Tyranny or Falsehood, though they wield _175With blood-red hand the sceptre of the world. 

'All things are sold: the very light of HeavenIs venal; earth's unsparing gifts of love, The smallest and most despicable thingsThat lurk in the abysses of the deep, _180All objects of our life, even life itself, And the poor pittance which the laws allowOf liberty, the fellowship of man, Those duties which his heart of human loveShould urge him to perform instinctively, _185Are bought and sold as in a public martOf undisguising selfishness, that setsOn each its price, the stamp-mark of her reign. Even love is sold; the solace of all woeIs turned to deadliest agony, old age _190Shivers in selfish beauty's loathing arms, And youth's corrupted impulses prepareA life of horror from the blighting baneOf commerce; whilst the pestilence that springsFrom unenjoying sensualism, has filled _195All human life with hydra-headed woes. 

'Falsehood demands but gold to pay the pangsOf outraged conscience; for the slavish priestSets no great value on his hireling faith:A little passing pomp, some servile souls, _200Whom cowardice itself might safely chain, Or the spare mite of avarice could bribeTo deck the triumph of their languid zeal, Can make him minister to tyranny. More daring crime requires a loftier meed: _205Without a shudder, the slave-soldier lendsHis arm to murderous deeds, and steels his heart, When the dread eloquence of dying men, Low mingling on the lonely field of fame, Assails that nature, whose applause he sells _210For the gross blessings of a patriot mob, For the vile gratitude of heartless kings, And for a cold world's good word, --viler still!

'There is a nobler glory, which survivesUntil our being fades, and, solacing _215All human care, accompanies its change;Deserts not virtue in the dungeon's gloom, And, in the precincts of the palace, guidesIts footsteps through that labyrinth of crime;Imbues his lineaments with dauntlessness, _220Even when, from Power's avenging hand, he takesIts sweetest, last and noblest title--death;--The consciousness of good, which neither gold, Nor sordid fame, nor hope of heavenly blissCan purchase; but a life of resolute good, -- _225Unalterable will, quenchless desireOf universal happiness, the heartThat beats with it in unison, the brain, Whose ever wakeful wisdom toils to changeReason's rich stores for its eternal weal. _230

'This commerce of sincerest virtue needsNo mediative signs of selfishness, No jealous intercourse of wretched gain, No balancings of prudence, cold and long;In just and equal measure all is weighed, _235One scale contains the sum of human weal, And one, the good man's heart. How vainly seekThe selfish for that happiness deniedTo aught but virtue! Blind and hardened, they, Who hope for peace amid the storms of care, _240Who covet power they know not how to use, And sigh for pleasure they refuse to give, --Madly they frustrate still their own designs;And, where they hope that quiet to enjoyWhich virtue pictures, bitterness of soul, _245Pining regrets, and vain repentances, Disease, disgust, and lassitude, pervadeTheir valueless and miserable lives. 

'But hoary-headed Selfishness has feltIts death-blow, and is tottering to the grave: _250A brighter morn awaits the human day, When every transfer of earth's natural giftsShall be a commerce of good words and works;When poverty and wealth, the thirst of fame, The fear of infamy, disease and woe, _255War with its million horrors, and fierce hellShall live but in the memory of Time, Who, like a penitent libertine, shall start, Look back, and shudder at his younger years. '

6. 

All touch, all eye, all ear, The Spirit felt the Fairy's burning speech. O'er the thin texture of its frame, The varying periods painted changing glows, As on a summer even, _5When soul-enfolding music floats around, The stainless mirror of the lakeRe-images the eastern gloom, Mingling convulsively its purple huesWith sunset's burnished gold. _10

Then thus the Spirit spoke:'It is a wild and miserable world!Thorny, and full of care, Which every fiend can make his prey at will. O Fairy! in the lapse of years, _15Is there no hope in store?Will yon vast suns roll onInterminably, still illumingThe night of so many wretched souls, And see no hope for them? _20Will not the universal Spirit e'erRevivify this withered limb of Heaven?'

The Fairy calmly smiledIn comfort, and a kindling gleam of hopeSuffused the Spirit's lineaments. _25'Oh! rest thee tranquil; chase those fearful doubts, Which ne'er could rack an everlasting soul, That sees the chains which bind it to its doom. Yes! crime and misery are in yonder earth, Falsehood, mistake, and lust; _30But the eternal worldContains at once the evil and the cure. Some eminent in virtue shall start up, Even in perversest time:The truths of their pure lips, that never die, _35Shall bind the scorpion falsehood with a wreathOf ever-living flame, Until the monster sting itself to death. 

'How sweet a scene will earth become!Of purest spirits a pure dwelling-place, _40Symphonious with the planetary spheres;When man, with changeless Nature coalescing, Will undertake regeneration's work, When its ungenial poles no longer pointTo the red and baleful sun _45That faintly twinkles there. 

'Spirit! on yonder earth, Falsehood now triumphs; deadly powerHas fixed its seal upon the lip of truth!Madness and misery are there! _50The happiest is most wretched! Yet confide, Until pure health-drops, from the cup of joy, Fall like a dew of balm upon the world. Now, to the scene I show, in silence turn, And read the blood-stained charter of all woe, _55Which Nature soon, with re-creating hand, Will blot in mercy from the book of earth. How bold the flight of Passion's wandering wing, How swift the step of Reason's firmer tread, How calm and sweet the victories of life, _60How terrorless the triumph of the grave!How powerless were the mightiest monarch's arm, Vain his loud threat, and impotent his frown!How ludicrous the priest's dogmatic roar!The weight of his exterminating curse _65How light! and his affected charity, To suit the pressure of the changing times, What palpable deceit!--but for thy aid, Religion! but for thee, prolific fiend, Who peoplest earth with demons, Hell with men, _70And Heaven with slaves!

'Thou taintest all thou look'st upon!--the stars, Which on thy cradle beamed so brightly sweet, Were gods to the distempered playfulnessOf thy untutored infancy: the trees, _75The grass, the clouds, the mountains, and the sea, All living things that walk, swim, creep, or fly, Were gods: the sun had homage, and the moonHer worshipper. Then thou becam'st, a boy, More daring in thy frenzies: every shape, _80Monstrous or vast, or beautifully wild, Which, from sensation's relics, fancy cullsThe spirits of the air, the shuddering ghost, The genii of the elements, the powersThat give a shape to Nature's varied works, _85Had life and place in the corrupt beliefOf thy blind heart: yet still thy youthful handsWere pure of human blood. Then manhood gaveIts strength and ardour to thy frenzied brain;Thine eager gaze scanned the stupendous scene, _90Whose wonders mocked the knowledge of thy pride:Their everlasting and unchanging lawsReproached thine ignorance. Awhile thou stoodstBaffled and gloomy; then thou didst sum upThe elements of all that thou didst know; _95The changing seasons, winter's leafless reign, The budding of the Heaven-breathing trees, The eternal orbs that beautify the night, The sunrise, and the setting of the moon, Earthquakes and wars, and poisons and disease, _100And all their causes, to an abstract pointConverging, thou didst bend and called it God!The self-sufficing, the omnipotent, The merciful, and the avenging God!Who, prototype of human misrule, sits _105High in Heaven's realm, upon a golden throne, Even like an earthly king; and whose dread work, Hell, gapes for ever for the unhappy slavesOf fate, whom He created, in his sport, To triumph in their torments when they fell! _110Earth heard the name; Earth trembled, as the smokeOf His revenge ascended up to Heaven, Blotting the constellations; and the criesOf millions, butchered in sweet confidenceAnd unsuspecting peace, even when the bonds _115Of safety were confirmed by wordy oathsSworn in His dreadful name, rung through the land;Whilst innocent babes writhed on thy stubborn spear, And thou didst laugh to hear the mother's shriekOf maniac gladness, as the sacred steel _120Felt cold in her torn entrails!

'Religion! thou wert then in manhood's prime:But age crept on: one God would not sufficeFor senile puerility; thou framedstA tale to suit thy dotage, and to glut _125Thy misery-thirsting soul, that the mad fiendThy wickedness had pictured might affordA plea for sating the unnatural thirstFor murder, rapine, violence, and crime, That still consumed thy being, even when _130Thou heardst the step of Fate;--that flames might lightThy funeral scene, and the shrill horrent shrieksOf parents dying on the pile that burnedTo light their children to thy paths, the roarOf the encircling flames, the exulting cries _135Of thine apostles, loud commingling there, Might sate thine hungry earEven on the bed of death!

'But now contempt is mocking thy gray hairs;Thou art descending to the darksome grave, _140Unhonoured and unpitied, but by thoseWhose pride is passing by like thine, and sheds, Like thine, a glare that fades before the sunOf truth, and shines but in the dreadful nightThat long has lowered above the ruined world. _145

'Throughout these infinite orbs of mingling light, Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffusedA Spirit of activity and life, That knows no term, cessation, or decay;That fades not when the lamp of earthly life, _150Extinguished in the dampness of the grave, Awhile there slumbers, more than when the babeIn the dim newness of its being feelsThe impulses of sublunary things, And all is wonder to unpractised sense: _155But, active, steadfast, and eternal, stillGuides the fierce whirlwind, in the tempest roars, Cheers in the day, breathes in the balmy groves, Strengthens in health, and poisons in disease;And in the storm of change, that ceaselessly _160Rolls round the eternal universe, and shakesIts undecaying battlement, presides, Apportioning with irresistible lawThe place each spring of its machine shall fill;So that when waves on waves tumultuous heap _165Confusion to the clouds, and fiercely drivenHeaven's lightnings scorch the uprooted ocean-fords, Whilst, to the eye of shipwrecked mariner, Lone sitting on the bare and shuddering rock, All seems unlinked contingency and chance: _170No atom of this turbulence fulfilsA vague and unnecessitated task, Or acts but as it must and ought to act. Even the minutest molecule of light, That in an April sunbeam's fleeting glow _175Fulfils its destined, though invisible work, The universal Spirit guides; nor less, When merciless ambition, or mad zeal, Has led two hosts of dupes to battlefield, That, blind, they there may dig each other's graves, _180And call the sad work glory, does it ruleAll passions: not a thought, a will, an act, No working of the tyrant's moody mind, Nor one misgiving of the slaves who boastTheir servitude, to hide the shame they feel, _185Nor the events enchaining every will, That from the depths of unrecorded timeHave drawn all-influencing virtue, passUnrecognized, or unforeseen by thee, Soul of the Universe! eternal spring _190Of life and death, of happiness and woe, Of all that chequers the phantasmal sceneThat floats before our eyes in wavering light, Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison, Whose chains and massy walls _195We feel, but cannot see. 

'Spirit of Nature! all-sufficing Power, Necessity! thou mother of the world!Unlike the God of human error, thouRequir'st no prayers or praises; the caprice _200Of man's weak will belongs no more to theeThan do the changeful passions of his breastTo thy unvarying harmony: the slave, Whose horrible lusts spread misery o'er the world, And the good man, who lifts, with virtuous pride, _205His being, in the sight of happiness, That springs from his own works; the poison-treeBeneath whose shade all life is withered up, And the fair oak, whose leafy dome affordsA temple where the vows of happy love _210Are registered, are equal in thy sight:No love, no hate thou cherishest; revengeAnd favouritism, and worst desire of fameThou know'st not: all that the wide world containsAre but thy passive instruments, and thou _215Regard'st them all with an impartial eye, Whose joy or pain thy nature cannot feel, Because thou hast not human sense, Because thou art not human mind. 

'Yes! when the sweeping storm of time _220Has sung its death-dirge o'er the ruined fanesAnd broken altars of the almighty FiendWhose name usurps thy honours, and the bloodThrough centuries clotted there, has floated downThe tainted flood of ages, shalt thou live _225Unchangeable! A shrine is raised to thee, Which, nor the tempest-breath of time, Nor the interminable flood, Over earth's slight pageant rolling, Availeth to destroy, --. _230The sensitive extension of the world. That wondrous and eternal fane, Where pain and pleasure, good and evil join, To do the will of strong necessity, And life, in multitudinous shapes, _235Still pressing forward where no term can be, Like hungry and unresting flameCurls round the eternal columns of its strength. '

7. 

SPIRIT:'I was an infant when my mother wentTo see an atheist burned. She took me there:The dark-robed priests were met around the pile;The multitude was gazing silently;And as the culprit passed with dauntless mien, _5Tempered disdain in his unaltering eye, Mixed with a quiet smile, shone calmly forth:The thirsty fire crept round his manly limbs;His resolute eyes were scorched to blindness soon;His death-pang rent my heart! the insensate mob _10Uttered a cry of triumph, and I wept. "Weep not, child!" cried my mother, "for that manHas said, There is no God. "'

FAIRY:'There is no God!Nature confirms the faith his death-groan sealed:Let heaven and earth, let man's revolving race, _15His ceaseless generations tell their tale;Let every part depending on the chainThat links it to the whole, point to the handThat grasps its term! let every seed that fallsIn silent eloquence unfold its store _20Of argument; infinity within, Infinity without, belie creation;The exterminable spirit it containsIs nature's only God; but human prideIs skilful to invent most serious names _25To hide its ignorance. The name of GodHas fenced about all crime with holiness, Himself the creature of His worshippers, Whose names and attributes and passions change, Seeva, Buddh, Foh, Jehovah, God, or Lord, _30Even with the human dupes who build His shrines, Still serving o'er the war-polluted worldFor desolation's watchword; whether hostsStain His death-blushing chariot-wheels, as onTriumphantly they roll, whilst Brahmins raise _35A sacred hymn to mingle with the groans;Or countless partners of His power divideHis tyranny to weakness; or the smokeOf burning towns, the cries of female helplessness, Unarmed old age, and youth, and infancy, _40Horribly massacred, ascend to HeavenIn honour of His name; or, last and worst, Earth groans beneath religion's iron age, And priests dare babble of a God of peace, Even whilst their hands are red with guiltless blood, _45Murdering the while, uprooting every germOf truth, exterminating, spoiling all, Making the earth a slaughter-house!

'O Spirit! through the senseBy which thy inner nature was apprised _50Of outward shows, vague dreams have rolled, And varied reminiscences have wakedTablets that never fade;All things have been imprinted there, The stars, the sea, the earth, the sky, _55Even the unshapeliest lineamentsOf wild and fleeting visionsHave left a record thereTo testify of earth. 

'These are my empire, for to me is given _60The wonders of the human world to keep, And Fancy's thin creations to endowWith manner, being, and reality;Therefore a wondrous phantom, from the dreamsOf human error's dense and purblind faith, _65I will evoke, to meet thy questioning. Ahasuerus, rise!'

A strange and woe-worn wightArose beside the battlement, And stood unmoving there. _70His inessential figure cast no shadeUpon the golden floor;His port and mien bore mark of many years, And chronicles of untold ancientnessWere legible within his beamless eye: _75Yet his cheek bore the mark of youth;Freshness and vigour knit his manly frame;The wisdom of old age was mingled thereWith youth's primaeval dauntlessness;And inexpressible woe, _80Chastened by fearless resignation, gaveAn awful grace to his all-speaking brow. 

SPIRIT:'Is there a God?'

AHASUERUS:'Is there a God!--ay, an almighty God, And vengeful as almighty! Once His voice _85Was heard on earth: earth shuddered at the sound;The fiery-visaged firmament expressedAbhorrence, and the grave of Nature yawnedTo swallow all the dauntless and the goodThat dared to hurl defiance at His throne, _90Girt as it was with power. None but slavesSurvived, --cold-blooded slaves, who did the workOf tyrannous omnipotence; whose soulsNo honest indignation ever urgedTo elevated daring, to one deed _95Which gross and sensual self did not pollute. These slaves built temples for the omnipotent Fiend, Gorgeous and vast: the costly altars smokedWith human blood, and hideous paeans rungThrough all the long-drawn aisles. A murderer heard _100His voice in Egypt, one whose gifts and artsHad raised him to his eminence in power, Accomplice of omnipotence in crime, And confidant of the all-knowing one. These were Jehovah's words:-- _105

'From an eternity of idlenessI, God, awoke; in seven days' toil made earthFrom nothing; rested, and created man:I placed him in a Paradise, and therePlanted the tree of evil, so that he _110Might eat and perish, and My soul procureWherewith to sate its malice, and to turn, Even like a heartless conqueror of the earth, All misery to My fame. The race of menChosen to My honour, with impunity _115May sate the lusts I planted in their heart. Here I command thee hence to lead them on, Until, with hardened feet, their conquering troopsWade on the promised soil through woman's blood, And make My name be dreaded through the land. _120Yet ever-burning flame and ceaseless woeShall be the doom of their eternal souls, With every soul on this ungrateful earth, Virtuous or vicious, weak or strong, --even allShall perish, to fulfil the blind revenge _125(Which you, to men, call justice) of their God. '

The murderer's browQuivered with horror. 'God omnipotent, Is there no mercy? must our punishmentBe endless? will long ages roll away, _130And see no term? Oh! wherefore hast Thou madeIn mockery and wrath this evil earth?Mercy becomes the powerful--be but just:O God! repent and save. '

'One way remains:I will beget a Son, and He shall bear _135The sins of all the world; He shall ariseIn an unnoticed corner of the earth, And there shall die upon a cross, and purgeThe universal crime; so that the fewOn whom My grace descends, those who are marked _140As vessels to the honour of their God, May credit this strange sacrifice, and saveTheir souls alive: millions shall live and die, Who ne'er shall call upon their Saviour's name, But, unredeemed, go to the gaping grave. _145Thousands shall deem it an old woman's tale, Such as the nurses frighten babes withal:These in a gulf of anguish and of flameShall curse their reprobation endlessly, Yet tenfold pangs shall force them to avow, _150Even on their beds of torment, where they howl, My honour, and the justice of their doom. What then avail their virtuous deeds, their thoughtsOf purity, with radiant genius bright, Or lit with human reason's earthly ray? _155Many are called, but few will I elect. Do thou My bidding, Moses!'Even the murderer's cheekWas blanched with horror, and his quivering lipsScarce faintly uttered--'O almighty One, I tremble and obey!' _160

'O Spirit! centuries have set their sealOn this heart of many wounds, and loaded brain, Since the Incarnate came: humbly He came, Veiling His horrible Godhead in the shapeOf man, scorned by the world, His name unheard, _165Save by the rabble of His native town, Even as a parish demagogue. He ledThe crowd; He taught them justice, truth, and peace, In semblance; but He lit within their soulsThe quenchless flames of zeal, and blessed the sword _170He brought on earth to satiate with the bloodOf truth and freedom His malignant soul. At length His mortal frame was led to death. I stood beside Him: on the torturing crossNo pain assailed His unterrestrial sense; _175And yet He groaned. Indignantly I summedThe massacres and miseries which His nameHad sanctioned in my country, and I cried, "Go! Go!" in mockery. A smile of godlike malice reillumed _180His fading lineaments. --"I go, " He cried, "But thou shalt wander o'er the unquiet earthEternally. "--The dampness of the graveBathed my imperishable front. I fell, And long lay tranced upon the charmed soil. _185When I awoke Hell burned within my brain, Which staggered on its seat; for all aroundThe mouldering relics of my kindred lay, Even as the Almighty's ire arrested them, And in their various attitudes of death _190My murdered children's mute and eyeless skullsGlared ghastily upon me. But my soul, From sight and sense of the polluting woeOf tyranny, had long learned to preferHell's freedom to the servitude of Heaven. _195Therefore I rose, and dauntlessly beganMy lonely and unending pilgrimage, Resolved to wage unweariable warWith my almighty Tyrant, and to hurlDefiance at His impotence to harm _200Beyond the curse I bore. The very handThat barred my passage to the peaceful graveHas crushed the earth to misery, and givenIts empire to the chosen of His slaves. These have I seen, even from the earliest dawn _205Of weak, unstable and precarious power, Then preaching peace, as now they practise war;So, when they turned but from the massacreOf unoffending infidels, to quenchTheir thirst for ruin in the very blood _210That flowed in their own veins, and pitiless zealFroze every human feeling, as the wifeSheathed in her husband's heart the sacred steel, Even whilst its hopes were dreaming of her love;And friends to friends, brothers to brothers stood _215Opposed in bloodiest battle-field, and war, Scarce satiable by fate's last death-draught, waged, Drunk from the winepress of the Almighty's wrath;Whilst the red cross, in mockery of peace, Pointed to victory! When the fray was done, _220No remnant of the exterminated faithSurvived to tell its ruin, but the flesh, With putrid smoke poisoning the atmosphere, That rotted on the half-extinguished pile. 

'Yes! I have seen God's worshippers unsheathe _225The sword of His revenge, when grace descended, Confirming all unnatural impulses, To sanctify their desolating deeds;And frantic priests waved the ill-omened crossO'er the unhappy earth: then shone the sun _230On showers of gore from the upflashing steelOf safe assassination, and all crimeMade stingless by the Spirits of the Lord, And blood-red rainbows canopied the land. 'Spirit, no year of my eventful being _235Has passed unstained by crime and misery, Which flows from God's own faith. I've marked His slavesWith tongues whose lies are venomous, beguileThe insensate mob, and, whilst one hand was redWith murder, feign to stretch the other out _240For brotherhood and peace; and that they nowBabble of love and mercy, whilst their deedsAre marked with all the narrowness and crimeThat Freedom's young arm dare not yet chastise, Reason may claim our gratitude, who now _245Establishing the imperishable throneOf truth, and stubborn virtue, maketh vainThe unprevailing malice of my Foe, Whose bootless rage heaps torments for the brave, Adds impotent eternities to pain, _250Whilst keenest disappointment racks His breastTo see the smiles of peace around them play, To frustrate or to sanctify their doom. 

'Thus have I stood, --through a wild waste of yearsStruggling with whirlwinds of mad agony, _255Yet peaceful, and serene, and self-enshrined, Mocking my powerless Tyrant's horrible curseWith stubborn and unalterable will, Even as a giant oak, which Heaven's fierce flameHad scathed in the wilderness, to stand _260A monument of fadeless ruin there;Yet peacefully and movelessly it bravesThe midnight conflict of the wintry storm, As in the sunlight's calm it spreadsIts worn and withered arms on high _265To meet the quiet of a summer's noon. '

The Fairy waved her wand:Ahasuerus fledFast as the shapes of mingled shade and mist, That lurk in the glens of a twilight grove, _270Flee from the morning beam:The matter of which dreams are madeNot more endowed with actual lifeThan this phantasmal portraitureOf wandering human thought. _275

NOTE:_180 reillumined edition 1813. 

8. 

THE FAIRY:'The Present and the Past thou hast beheld:It was a desolate sight. Now, Spirit, learnThe secrets of the Future. --Time!Unfold the brooding pinion of thy gloom, Render thou up thy half-devoured babes, _5And from the cradles of eternity, Where millions lie lulled to their portioned sleepBy the deep murmuring stream of passing things, Tear thou that gloomy shroud. --Spirit, beholdThy glorious destiny!' _10

Joy to the Spirit came. Through the wide rent in Time's eternal veil, Hope was seen beaming through the mists of fear:Earth was no longer Hell;Love, freedom, health, had given _15Their ripeness to the manhood of its prime, And all its pulses beatSymphonious to the planetary spheres:Then dulcet music swelledConcordant with the life-strings of the soul; _20It throbbed in sweet and languid beatings there, Catching new life from transitory death, --Like the vague sighings of a wind at even, That wakes the wavelets of the slumbering seaAnd dies on the creation of its breath, _25And sinks and rises, fails and swells by fits:Was the pure stream of feelingThat sprung from these sweet notes, And o'er the Spirit's human sympathiesWith mild and gentle motion calmly flowed. _30

Joy to the Spirit came, --Such joy as when a lover seesThe chosen of his soul in happiness, And witnesses her peaceWhose woe to him were bitterer than death, _35Sees her unfaded cheekGlow mantling in first luxury of health, Thrills with her lovely eyes, Which like two stars amid the heaving mainSparkle through liquid bliss. _40

Then in her triumph spoke the Fairy Queen:'I will not call the ghost of ages goneTo unfold the frightful secrets of its lore;The present now is past, And those events that desolate the earth _45Have faded from the memory of Time, Who dares not give reality to thatWhose being I annul. To me is givenThe wonders of the human world to keep, Space, matter, time, and mind. Futurity _50Exposes now its treasure; let the sightRenew and strengthen all thy failing hope. O human Spirit! spur thee to the goalWhere virtue fixes universal peace, And midst the ebb and flow of human things, _55Show somewhat stable, somewhat certain still, A lighthouse o'er the wild of dreary waves. 

'The habitable earth is full of bliss;Those wastes of frozen billows that were hurledBy everlasting snowstorms round the poles, _60Where matter dared not vegetate or live, But ceaseless frost round the vast solitudeBound its broad zone of stillness, are unloosed;And fragrant zephyrs there from spicy islesRuffle the placid ocean-deep, that rolls _65Its broad, bright surges to the sloping sand, Whose roar is wakened into echoings sweetTo murmur through the Heaven-breathing grovesAnd melodize with man's blest nature there. 

'Those deserts of immeasurable sand, _70Whose age-collected fervours scarce allowedA bird to live, a blade of grass to spring, Where the shrill chirp of the green lizard's loveBroke on the sultry silentness alone, Now teem with countless rills and shady woods, _75Cornfields and pastures and white cottages;And where the startled wilderness beheldA savage conqueror stained in kindred blood, A tigress sating with the flesh of lambsThe unnatural famine of her toothless cubs, _80Whilst shouts and howlings through the desert rang, Sloping and smooth the daisy-spangled lawn, Offering sweet incense to the sunrise, smilesTo see a babe before his mother's door, Sharing his morning's meal _85With the green and golden basiliskThat comes to lick his feet. 

'Those trackless deeps, where many a weary sailHas seen above the illimitable plain, Morning on night, and night on morning rise, _90Whilst still no land to greet the wanderer spreadIts shadowy mountains on the sun-bright sea, Where the loud roarings of the tempest-wavesSo long have mingled with the gusty windIn melancholy loneliness, and swept _95The desert of those ocean solitudes, But vocal to the sea-bird's harrowing shriek, The bellowing monster, and the rushing storm, Now to the sweet and many-mingling soundsOf kindliest human impulses respond. _100Those lonely realms bright garden-isles begem, With lightsome clouds and shining seas between, And fertile valleys, resonant with bliss, Whilst green woods overcanopy the wave, Which like a toil-worn labourer leaps to shore, _105To meet the kisses of the flow'rets there. 

'All things are recreated, and the flameOf consentaneous love inspires all life:The fertile bosom of the earth gives suckTo myriads, who still grow beneath her care, _110Rewarding her with their pure perfectness:The balmy breathings of the wind inhaleHer virtues, and diffuse them all abroad:Health floats amid the gentle atmosphere, Glows in the fruits, and mantles on the stream: _115No storms deform the beaming brow of Heaven, Nor scatter in the freshness of its prideThe foliage of the ever-verdant trees;But fruits are ever ripe, flowers ever fair, And Autumn proudly bears her matron grace, _120Kindling a flush on the fair cheek of Spring, Whose virgin bloom beneath the ruddy fruitReflects its tint, and blushes into love. 

'The lion now forgets to thirst for blood:There might you see him sporting in the sun _125Beside the dreadless kid; his claws are sheathed, His teeth are harmless, custom's force has madeHis nature as the nature of a lamb. Like passion's fruit, the nightshade's tempting banePoisons no more the pleasure it bestows: _130All bitterness is past; the cup of joyUnmingled mantles to the goblet's brim, And courts the thirsty lips it fled before. 

'But chief, ambiguous Man, he that can knowMore misery, and dream more joy than all; _135Whose keen sensations thrill within his breastTo mingle with a loftier instinct there, Lending their power to pleasure and to pain, Yet raising, sharpening, and refining each;Who stands amid the ever-varying world, _140The burthen or the glory of the earth;He chief perceives the change, his being notesThe gradual renovation, and definesEach movement of its progress on his mind. 

'Man, where the gloom of the long polar night _145Lowers o'er the snow-clad rocks and frozen soil, Where scarce the hardiest herb that braves the frostBasks in the moonlight's ineffectual glow, Shrank with the plants, and darkened with the night;His chilled and narrow energies, his heart, _150Insensible to courage, truth, or love, His stunted stature and imbecile frame, Marked him for some abortion of the earth, Fit compeer of the bears that roamed around, Whose habits and enjoyments were his own: _155His life a feverish dream of stagnant woe, Whose meagre wants, but scantily fulfilled, Apprised him ever of the joyless lengthWhich his short being's wretchedness had reached;His death a pang which famine, cold and toil _160Long on the mind, whilst yet the vital sparkClung to the body stubbornly, had brought:All was inflicted here that Earth's revengeCould wreak on the infringers of her law;One curse alone was spared--the name of God. _165

'Nor where the tropics bound the realms of dayWith a broad belt of mingling cloud and flame, Where blue mists through the unmoving atmosphereScattered the seeds of pestilence, and fedUnnatural vegetation, where the land _170Teemed with all earthquake, tempest and disease, Was Man a nobler being; slaveryHad crushed him to his country's bloodstained dust;Or he was bartered for the fame of power, Which all internal impulses destroying, _175Makes human will an article of trade;Or he was changed with Christians for their gold, And dragged to distant isles, where to the soundOf the flesh-mangling scourge, he does the workOf all-polluting luxury and wealth, _180Which doubly visits on the tyrants' headsThe long-protracted fulness of their woe;Or he was led to legal butchery, To turn to worms beneath that burning sun, Where kings first leagued against the rights of men, _185And priests first traded with the name of God. 

'Even where the milder zone afforded ManA seeming shelter, yet contagion there, Blighting his being with unnumbered ills, Spread like a quenchless fire; nor truth till late _190Availed to arrest its progress, or createThat peace which first in bloodless victory wavedHer snowy standard o'er this favoured clime:There man was long the train-bearer of slaves, The mimic of surrounding misery, _195The jackal of ambition's lion-rage, The bloodhound of religion's hungry zeal. 'Here now the human being stands adorningThis loveliest earth with taintless body and mind;Blessed from his birth with all bland impulses, _200Which gently in his noble bosom wakeAll kindly passions and all pure desires. Him, still from hope to hope the bliss pursuingWhich from the exhaustless lore of human wealDawns on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that rise _205In time-destroying infiniteness, giftWith self-enshrined eternity, that mocksThe unprevailing hoariness of age, And man, once fleeting o'er the transient sceneSwift as an unremembered vision, stands _210Immortal upon earth: no longer nowHe slays the lamb that looks him in the face, And horribly devours his mangled flesh, Which, still avenging Nature's broken law, Kindled all putrid humours in his frame, _215All evil passions, and all vain belief, Hatred, despair, and loathing in his mind, The germs of misery, death, disease, and crime. No longer now the winged habitants, That in the woods their sweet lives sing away, -- _220Flee from the form of man; but gather round, And prune their sunny feathers on the handsWhich little children stretch in friendly sportTowards these dreadless partners of their play. All things are void of terror: Man has lost _225His terrible prerogative, and standsAn equal amidst equals: happinessAnd science dawn though late upon the earth;Peace cheers the mind, health renovates the frame;Disease and pleasure cease to mingle here, _230Reason and passion cease to combat there;Whilst each unfettered o'er the earth extendTheir all-subduing energies, and wieldThe sceptre of a vast dominion there;Whilst every shape and mode of matter lends _235Its force to the omnipotence of mind, Which from its dark mine drags the gem of truthTo decorate its Paradise of peace. '

NOTES:_204 exhaustless store edition 1813. _205 Draws edition 1813. See Editor's Note. 

9. 

'O happy Earth! reality of Heaven!To which those restless souls that ceaselesslyThrong through the human universe, aspire;Thou consummation of all mortal hope!Thou glorious prize of blindly-working will! _5Whose rays, diffused throughout all space and time, Verge to one point and blend for ever there:Of purest spirits thou pure dwelling-place!Where care and sorrow, impotence and crime, Languor, disease, and ignorance dare not come: _10O happy Earth, reality of Heaven!

'Genius has seen thee in her passionate dreams, And dim forebodings of thy lovelinessHaunting the human heart, have there entwinedThose rooted hopes of some sweet place of bliss _15Where friends and lovers meet to part no more. Thou art the end of all desire and will, The product of all action; and the soulsThat by the paths of an aspiring changeHave reached thy haven of perpetual peace, _20There rest from the eternity of toilThat framed the fabric of thy perfectness. 

'Even Time, the conqueror, fled thee in his fear;That hoary giant, who, in lonely pride, So long had ruled the world, that nations fell _25Beneath his silent footstep. Pyramids, That for millenniums had withstood the tideOf human things, his storm-breath drove in sandAcross that desert where their stones survivedThe name of him whose pride had heaped them there. _30Yon monarch, in his solitary pomp, Was but the mushroom of a summer day, That his light-winged footstep pressed to dust:Time was the king of earth: all things gave wayBefore him, but the fixed and virtuous will, _35The sacred sympathies of soul and sense, That mocked his fury and prepared his fall. 

'Yet slow and gradual dawned the morn of love;Long lay the clouds of darkness o'er the scene, Till from its native Heaven they rolled away: _40First, Crime triumphant o'er all hope careeredUnblushing, undisguising, bold and strong;Whilst Falsehood, tricked in Virtue's attributes, Long sanctified all deeds of vice and woe, Till done by her own venomous sting to death, _45She left the moral world without a law, No longer fettering Passion's fearless wing, --Nor searing Reason with the brand of God. Then steadily the happy ferment worked;Reason was free; and wild though Passion went _50Through tangled glens and wood-embosomed meads, Gathering a garland of the strangest flowers, Yet like the bee returning to her queen, She bound the sweetest on her sister's brow, Who meek and sober kissed the sportive child, _55No longer trembling at the broken rod. 

'Mild was the slow necessity of death:The tranquil spirit failed beneath its grasp, Without a groan, almost without a fear, Calm as a voyager to some distant land, _60And full of wonder, full of hope as he. The deadly germs of languor and diseaseDied in the human frame, and PurityBlessed with all gifts her earthly worshippers. How vigorous then the athletic form of age! _65How clear its open and unwrinkled brow!Where neither avarice, cunning, pride, nor care, Had stamped the seal of gray deformityOn all the mingling lineaments of time. How lovely the intrepid front of youth! _70Which meek-eyed courage decked with freshest grace;--Courage of soul, that dreaded not a name, And elevated will, that journeyed onThrough life's phantasmal scene in fearlessness, With virtue, love, and pleasure, hand in hand. _75

'Then, that sweet bondage which is Freedom's self, And rivets with sensation's softest tieThe kindred sympathies of human souls, Needed no fetters of tyrannic law:Those delicate and timid impulses _80In Nature's primal modesty arose, And with undoubted confidence disclosedThe growing longings of its dawning love, Unchecked by dull and selfish chastity, That virtue of the cheaply virtuous, _85Who pride themselves in senselessness and frost. No longer prostitution's venomed banePoisoned the springs of happiness and life;Woman and man, in confidence and love, Equal and free and pure together trod _90The mountain-paths of virtue, which no moreWere stained with blood from many a pilgrim's feet. 

'Then, where, through distant ages, long in prideThe palace of the monarch-slave had mockedFamine's faint groan, and Penury's silent tear, _95A heap of crumbling ruins stood, and threwYear after year their stones upon the field, Wakening a lonely echo; and the leavesOf the old thorn, that on the topmost towerUsurped the royal ensign's grandeur, shook _100In the stern storm that swayed the topmost towerAnd whispered strange tales in the Whirlwind's ear. 'Low through the lone cathedral's roofless aislesThe melancholy winds a death-dirge sung:It were a sight of awfulness to see _105The works of faith and slavery, so vast, So sumptuous, yet so perishing withal!Even as the corpse that rests beneath its wall. A thousand mourners deck the pomp of deathTo-day, the breathing marble glows above _110To decorate its memory, and tonguesAre busy of its life: to-morrow, wormsIn silence and in darkness seize their prey. 

'Within the massy prison's mouldering courts, Fearless and free the ruddy children played, _115Weaving gay chaplets for their innocent browsWith the green ivy and the red wallflower, That mock the dungeon's unavailing gloom;The ponderous chains, and gratings of strong iron, There rusted amid heaps of broken stone _120That mingled slowly with their native earth:There the broad beam of day, which feebly onceLighted the cheek of lean CaptivityWith a pale and sickly glare, then freely shoneOn the pure smiles of infant playfulness: _125No more the shuddering voice of hoarse DespairPealed through the echoing vaults, but soothing notesOf ivy-fingered winds and gladsome birdsAnd merriment were resonant around. 

'These ruins soon left not a wreck behind: _130Their elements, wide scattered o'er the globe, To happier shapes were moulded, and becameMinistrant to all blissful impulses:Thus human things were perfected, and earth, Even as a child beneath its mother's love, _135Was strengthened in all excellence, and grewFairer and nobler with each passing year. 

'Now Time his dusky pennons o'er the sceneCloses in steadfast darkness, and the pastFades from our charmed sight. My task is done: _140Thy lore is learned. Earth's wonders are thine own, With all the fear and all the hope they bring. My spells are passed: the present now recurs. Ah me! a pathless wilderness remainsYet unsubdued by man's reclaiming hand. _145

'Yet, human Spirit, bravely hold thy course, Let virtue teach thee firmly to pursueThe gradual paths of an aspiring change:For birth and life and death, and that strange stateBefore the naked soul has found its home, _150All tend to perfect happiness, and urgeThe restless wheels of being on their way, Whose flashing spokes, instinct with infinite life, Bicker and burn to gain their destined goal:For birth but wakes the spirit to the sense _155Of outward shows, whose unexperienced shapeNew modes of passion to its frame may lend;Life is its state of action, and the storeOf all events is aggregated thereThat variegate the eternal universe; _160Death is a gate of dreariness and gloom, That leads to azure isles and beaming skiesAnd happy regions of eternal hope. Therefore, O Spirit! fearlessly bear on:Though storms may break the primrose on its stalk, _165Though frosts may blight the freshness of its bloom, Yet Spring's awakening breath will woo the earth, To feed with kindliest dews its favourite flower, That blooms in mossy banks and darksome glens, Lighting the greenwood with its sunny smile. _170

'Fear not then, Spirit, Death's disrobing hand, So welcome when the tyrant is awake, So welcome when the bigot's hell-torch burns;'Tis but the voyage of a darksome hour, The transient gulf-dream of a startling sleep. _175Death is no foe to Virtue: earth has seenLove's brightest roses on the scaffold bloom, Mingling with Freedom's fadeless laurels there, And presaging the truth of visioned bliss. Are there not hopes within thee, which this scene _180Of linked and gradual being has confirmed?Whose stingings bade thy heart look further still, When, to the moonlight walk by Henry led, Sweetly and sadly thou didst talk of death?And wilt thou rudely tear them from thy breast, _185Listening supinely to a bigot's creed, Or tamely crouching to the tyrant's rod, Whose iron thongs are red with human gore?Never: but bravely bearing on, thy willIs destined an eternal war to wage _190With tyranny and falsehood, and uprootThe germs of misery from the human heart. Thine is the hand whose piety would sootheThe thorny pillow of unhappy crime, Whose impotence an easy pardon gains, _195Watching its wanderings as a friend's disease:Thine is the brow whose mildness would defyIts fiercest rage, and brave its sternest will, When fenced by power and master of the world. Thou art sincere and good; of resolute mind, _200Free from heart-withering custom's cold control, Of passion lofty, pure and unsubdued. Earth's pride and meanness could not vanquish thee, And therefore art thou worthy of the boonWhich thou hast now received: Virtue shall keep _205Thy footsteps in the path that thou hast trod, And many days of beaming hope shall blessThy spotless life of sweet and sacred love. Go, happy one, and give that bosom joyWhose sleepless spirit waits to catch _210Light, life and rapture from thy smile. '

The Fairy waves her wand of charm. Speechless with bliss the Spirit mounts the car, That rolled beside the battlement, Bending her beamy eyes in thankful ness. _215Again the enchanted steeds were yoked, Again the burning wheels inflameThe steep descent of Heaven's untrodden way. Fast and far the chariot flew:The vast and fiery globes that rolled _220Around the Fairy's palace-gateLessened by slow degrees and soon appearedSuch tiny twinklers as the planet orbsThat there attendant on the solar powerWith borrowed light pursued their narrower way. _225

Earth floated then below:The chariot paused a moment there;The Spirit then descended:The restless coursers pawed the ungenial soil, Snuffed the gross air, and then, their errand done, _230Unfurled their pinions to the winds of Heaven. 

The Body and the Soul united then, A gentle start convulsed Ianthe's frame:Her veiny eyelids quietly unclosed;Moveless awhile the dark blue orbs remained: _235She looked around in wonder and beheldHenry, who kneeled in silence by her couch, Watching her sleep with looks of speechless love, And the bright beaming starsThat through the casement shone. _240

***

NOTES ON QUEEN MAB. 

SHELLEY'S NOTES. 

1. 242, 243:--

The sun's unclouded orbRolled through the black concave. 

Beyond our atmosphere the sun would appear a rayless orb of fire in themidst of a black concave. The equal diffusion of its light on earth isowing to the refraction of the rays by the atmosphere, and theirreflection from other bodies. Light consists either of vibrationspropagated through a subtle medium, or of numerous minute particlesrepelled in all directions from the luminous body. Its velocity greatlyexceeds that of any substance with which we are acquainted: observationson the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites have demonstrated that lighttakes up no more than 8 minutes 7 seconds in passing from the sun to theearth, a distance of 95, 000, 000 miles. --Some idea may be gained of theimmense distance of the fixed stars when it is computed that many yearswould elapse before light could reach this earth from the nearest ofthem; yet in one year light travels 5, 422, 400, 000, 000 miles, which is adistance 5, 707, 600 times greater than that of the sun from the earth. 

1. 252, 253:--

Whilst round the chariot's wayInnumerable systems rolled. 

The plurality of worlds, --the indefinite immensity of the universe, is amost awful subject of contemplation. He who rightly feels its mysteryand grandeur is in no danger of seduction from the falsehoods ofreligious systems, or of deifying the principle of the universe. It isimpossible to believe that the Spirit that pervades this infinitemachine begat a son upon the body of a Jewish woman; or is angered atthe consequences of that necessity, which is a synonym of itself. Allthat miserable tale of the Devil, and Eve, and an Intercessor, with thechildish mummeries of the God of the Jews, is irreconcilable with theknowledge of the stars. The works of His fingers have borne witnessagainst Him. 

The nearest of the fixed stars is inconceivably distant from the earth, and they are probably proportionably distant from each other. By acalculation of the velocity of light, Sirius is supposed to be at least54, 224, 000, 000, 000 miles from the earth. (See Nicholson's"Encyclopedia", article Light. ) That which appears only like a thin andsilvery cloud streaking the heaven is in effect composed of innumerableclusters of suns, each shining with its own light, and illuminatingnumbers of planets that revolve around them. Millions and millions ofsuns are ranged around us, all attended by innumerable worlds, yet calm, regular, and harmonious, all keeping the paths of immutable necessity. 

4. 178, 179:--

These are the hired bravos who defendThe tyrant's throne. 

To employ murder as a means of justice is an idea which a man of anenlightened mind will not dwell upon with pleasure. To march forth inrank and file, and all the pomp of streamers and trumpets, for thepurpose of shooting at our fellow-men as a mark; to inflict upon themall the variety of wound and anguish; to leave them weltering in theirblood; to wander over the field of desolation, and count the number ofthe dying and the dead, --are employments which in thesis we may maintainto be necessary, but which no good man will contemplate with gratulationand delight. A battle we suppose is won:--thus truth is established, thus the cause of justice is confirmed! It surely requires no commonsagacity to discern the connexion between this immense heap ofcalamities and the assertion of truth or the maintenance of justice. 

'Kings, and ministers of state, the real authors of the calamity, situnmolested in their cabinet, while those against whom the fury of thestorm is directed are, for the most part, persons who have beentrepanned into the service, or who are dragged unwillingly from theirpeaceful homes into the field of battle. A soldier is a man whosebusiness it is to kill those who never offended him, and who are theinnocent martyrs of other men's iniquities. Whatever may become of theabstract question of the justifiableness of war, it seems impossiblethat the soldier should not be a depraved and unnatural being. 

To these more serious and momentous considerations it may be proper toadd a recollection of the ridiculousness of the military character. Itsfirst constituent is obedience: a soldier is, of all descriptions ofmen, the most completely a machine; yet his profession inevitablyteaches him something of dogmatism, swaggering, and sell-consequence: heis like the puppet of a showman, who, at the very time he is made tostrut and swell and display the most farcical airs, we perfectly knowcannot assume the most insignificant gesture, advance either to theright or the left, but as he is moved by his exhibitor. '--Godwin's"Enquirer", Essay 5. 

I will here subjoin a little poem, so strongly expressive of myabhorrence of despotism and falsehood, that I fear lest it never againmay be depictured so vividly. This opportunity is perhaps the only onethat ever will occur of rescuing it from oblivion. 

FALSEHOOD AND VICE. 

A DIALOGUE. 

Whilst monarchs laughed upon their thronesTo hear a famished nation's groans, And hugged the wealth wrung from the woeThat makes its eyes and veins o'erflow, --Those thrones, high built upon the heapsOf bones where frenzied Famine sleeps, Where Slavery wields her scourge of iron, Red with mankind's unheeded gore, And War's mad fiends the scene environ, Mingling with shrieks a drunken roar, There Vice and Falsehood took their stand, High raised above the unhappy land. 

FALSEHOOD:Brother! arise from the dainty fare, Which thousands have toiled and bled to bestow;A finer feast for thy hungry earIs the news that I bring of human woe. 

VICE:And, secret one, what hast thou done, To compare, in thy tumid pride, with me?I, whose career, through the blasted year, Has been tracked by despair and agony. 

FALSEHOOD:What have I done!--I have torn the robeFrom baby Truth's unsheltered form, And round the desolated globeBorne safely the bewildering charm:My tyrant-slaves to a dungeon-floorHave bound the fearless innocent, And streams of fertilizing goreFlow from her bosom's hideous rent, Which this unfailing dagger gave... I dread that blood!--no more--this dayIs ours, though her eternal rayMust shine upon our grave. Yet know, proud Vice, had I not givenTo thee the robe I stole from Heaven, Thy shape of ugliness and fearHad never gained admission here. 

VICE:And know, that had I disdained to toil, But sate in my loathsome cave the while, And ne'er to these hateful sons of Heaven, GOLD, MONARCHY, and MURDER, given;Hadst thou with all thine art essayedOne of thy games then to have played, With all thine overweening boast, Falsehood! I tell thee thou hadst lost!--Yet wherefore this dispute?--we tend, Fraternal, to one common end;In this cold grave beneath my feet, Will our hopes, our fears, and our labours, meet. 

FALSEHOOD:I brought my daughter, RELIGION, on earth:She smothered Reason's babes in their birth;But dreaded their mother's eye severe, --So the crocodile slunk off slily in fear, And loosed her bloodhounds from the den.... They started from dreams of slaughtered men, And, by the light of her poison eye, Did her work o'er the wide earth frightfully:The dreadful stench of her torches' flare, Fed with human fat, polluted the air:The curses, the shrieks, the ceaseless criesOf the many-mingling miseries, As on she trod, ascended highAnd trumpeted my victory!--Brother, tell what thou hast done. 

VICE:I have extinguished the noonday sun, In the carnage-smoke of battles won:Famine, Murder, Hell and PowerWere glutted in that glorious hourWhich searchless fate had stamped for meWith the seal of her security... For the bloated wretch on yonder throneCommanded the bloody fray to rise. Like me he joyed at the stifled moanWrung from a nation's miseries;While the snakes, whose slime even him DEFILED, In ecstasies of malice smiled:They thought 'twas theirs, --but mine the deed!Theirs is the toil, but mine the meed--Ten thousand victims madly bleed. They dream that tyrants goad them thereWith poisonous war to taint the air:These tyrants, on their beds of thorn, Swell with the thoughts of murderous fame, And with their gains to lift my nameRestless they plan from night to morn:I--I do all; without my aidThy daughter, that relentless maid, Could never o'er a death-bed urgeThe fury of her venomed scourge. 

FALSEHOOD:Brother, well:--the world is ours;And whether thou or I have won, The pestilence expectant lowersOn all beneath yon blasted sun. Our joys, our toils, our honours meetIn the milk-white and wormy winding-sheet:A short-lived hope, unceasing care, Some heartless scraps of godly prayer, A moody curse, and a frenzied sleepEre gapes the grave's unclosing deep, A tyrant's dream, a coward's start, The ice that clings to a priestly heart, A judge's frown, a courtier's smile, Make the great whole for which we toil;And, brother, whether thou or IHave done the work of misery, It little boots: thy toil and pain, Without my aid, were more than vain;And but for thee I ne'er had sateThe guardian of Heaven's palace gate. 

5. 1, 2:--

Thus do the generations of the earthGo to the grave, and issue from the womb. 

'One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but theearth abideth for ever. The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose. The wind goeth toward thesouth, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. All the riversrun into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whencethe rivers come, thither they return again. '--Ecclesiastes, chapter 1verses 4-7. 

5. 4-6. 

Even as the leavesWhich the keen frost-wind of the waning yearHas scattered on the forest soil. 

Oin per phullon genee, toiede kai andron. Phulla ta men t' anemos chamadis cheei, alla de th' uleTelethoosa phuei, earos d' epigignetai ore. Os andron genee, e men phuei, e d' apolegei. 

Iliad Z, line 146. 

5. 58:--The mob of peasants, nobles, priests, and kings. 

Suave mari magno turbantibus aequora ventisE terra magnum alterius spectare laborem;Non quia vexari quemquam est iucunda voluptas, Sed quibus ipse malis careas quia cernere suave est. Suave etiam belli certamina magna tueriPer campos instructa, tua sine parte pericli;Sed nil dulcius est bene quam munita tenereEdita doctrina sapientum templa serena, Despicere undo queas alios, passimque videreErrare atque viam palantis quaerere vitae;Certare ingenio; contendere nobilitate;Noctes atque dies niti praestante laboreAd summas emergere opes, rerumque potiri. O miseras hominum mentes! O pectora caeca!

Lucret. Lib. 2. 

5. 93, 94. 

And statesmen boastOf wealth!

There is no real wealth but the labour of man. Were the mountains ofgold and the valleys of silver, the world would not be one grain of cornthe richer; no one comfort would be added to the human race. Inconsequence of our consideration for the precious metals, one man isenabled to heap to himself luxuries at the expense of the necessaries ofhis neighbour; a system admirably fitted to produce all the varieties ofdisease and crime, which never fail to characterize the two extremes ofopulence and penury. A speculator takes pride to himself as the promoterof his country's prosperity, who employs a number of hands in themanufacture of articles avowedly destitute of use, or subservient onlyto the unhallowed cravings of luxury and ostentation. The nobleman, whoemploys the peasants of his neighbourhood in building his palaces, until'jam pauca aratro jugera regiae moles relinquunt, ' flatters himself thathe has gained the title of a patriot by yielding to the impulses ofvanity. The show and pomp of courts adduce the same apology for itscontinuance; and many a fete has been given, many a woman has eclipsedher beauty by her dress, to benefit the labouring poor and to encouragetrade. Who does not see that this is a remedy which aggravates whilst itpalliates the countless diseases of society? The poor are set tolabour, --for what? Not the food for which they famish: not the blanketsfor want of which their babes are frozen by the cold of their miserablehovels: not those comforts of civilization without which civilized manis far more miserable than the meanest savage; oppressed as he is by allits insidious evils, within the daily and taunting prospect of itsinnumerable benefits assiduously exhibited before him:--no; for thepride of power, for the miserable isolation of pride, for the falsepleasures of the hundredth part of society. No greater evidence isafforded of the wide extended and radical mistakes of civilized man thanthis fact: those arts which are essential to his very being are held inthe greatest contempt; employments are lucrative in an inverse ratio totheir usefulness (See Rousseau, "De l'Inegalite parmi les Hommes", note7. ): the jeweller, the toyman, the actor gains fame and wealth by theexercise of his useless and ridiculous art; whilst the cultivator of theearth, he without whom society must cease to subsist, struggles throughcontempt and penury, and perishes by that famine which but for hisunceasing exertions would annihilate the rest of mankind. 

I will not insult common sense by insisting on the doctrine of thenatural equality of man. The question is not concerning itsdesirableness, but its practicability: so far as it is practicable, itis desirable. That state of human society which approaches nearer to anequal partition of its benefits and evils should, caeteris paribus, bepreferred: but so long as we conceive that a wanton expenditure of humanlabour, not for the necessities, not even for the luxuries of the massof society, but for the egotism and ostentation of a few of its members, is defensible on the ground of public justice, so long we neglect toapproximate to the redemption of the human race. 

Labour is required for physical, and leisure for moral improvement: fromthe former of these advantages the rich, and from the latter the poor, by the inevitable conditions of their respective situations, areprecluded. A state which should combine the advantages of both would besubjected to the evils of neither. He that is deficient in firm health, or vigorous intellect, is but half a man: hence it follows that tosubject the labouring classes to unnecessary labour is wantonlydepriving them of any opportunities of intellectual improvement; andthat the rich are heaping up for their own mischief the disease, lassitude, and ennui by which their existence is rendered an intolerableburthen. 

English reformers exclaim against sinecures, --but the true pension listis the rent-roll of the landed proprietors: wealth is a power usurped bythe few, to compel the many to labour for their benefit. The laws whichsupport this system derive their force from the ignorance and credulityof its victims: they are the result of a conspiracy of the few againstthe many, who are themselves obliged to purchase this pre-eminence bythe loss of all real comfort. 

'The commodities that substantially contribute to the subsistence of thehuman species form a very short catalogue: they demand from us but aslender portion of industry. If these only were produced, andsufficiently produced, the species of man would be continued. If thelabour necessarily required to produce them were equitably divided amongthe poor, and, still more, if it were equitably divided among all, eachman's share of labour would be light, and his portion of leisure wouldbe ample. There was a time when this leisure would have been of smallcomparative value: it is to be hoped that the time will come when itwill be applied to the most important purposes. Those hours which arenot required for the production of the necessaries of life may bedevoted to the cultivation of the understanding, the enlarging our stockof knowledge, the refining our taste, and thus opening to us new andmore exquisite sources of enjoyment. 

... 

'It was perhaps necessary that a period of monopoly and oppressionshould subsist, before a period of cultivated equality could subsist. Savages perhaps would never have been excited to the discovery of truthand the invention of art but by the narrow motives which such a periodaffords. But surely, after the savage state has ceased, and men have setout in the glorious career of discovery and invention, monopoly andoppression cannot be necessary to prevent them from returning to a stateof barbarism. '--Godwin's "Enquirer", Essay 2. See also "Pol. Jus. ", book8, chapter 2. 

It is a calculation of this admirable author, that all the conveniencesof civilized life might be produced, if society would divide the labourequally among its members, by each individual being employed in labourtwo hours during the day. 

5. 112, 113:--

or religionDrives his wife raving mad. 

I am acquainted with a lady of considerable accomplishments, and themother of a numerous family, whom the Christian religion has goaded toincurable insanity. A parallel case is, I believe, within the experienceof every physician. 

Nam iam saepe homines patriam, carosquo parentesProdiderunt, vitare Acherusia templa petentes. --Lucretius. 

5. 189:--

Even love is sold. 

Not even the intercourse of the sexes is exempt from the despotism ofpositive institution. Law pretends even to govern the indisciplinablewanderings of passion, to put fetters on the clearest deductions ofreason, and, by appeals to the will, to subdue the involuntaryaffections of our nature. Love is inevitably consequent upon theperception of loveliness. Love withers under constraint: its veryessence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear: it is there most pure, perfect, and unlimited, where itsvotaries live in confidence, equality, and unreserve. 

How long then ought the sexual connection to last? what law ought tospecify the extent of the grievances which should limit its duration? Ahusband and wife ought to continue so long united as they love eachother: any law which should bind them to cohabitation for one momentafter the decay of their affection would be a most intolerable tyranny, and the most unworthy of toleration. How odious an usurpation of theright of private judgement should that law be considered which shouldmake the ties of friendship indissoluble, in spite of the caprices, theinconstancy, the fallibility, and capacity for improvement of the humanmind. And by so much would the fetters of love be heavier and moreunendurable than those of friendship, as love is more vehement andcapricious, more dependent on those delicate peculiarities ofimagination, and less capable of reduction to the ostensible merits ofthe object. 

The state of society in which we exist is a mixture of feudal savagenessand imperfect civilization. The narrow and unenlightened morality of theChristian religion is an aggravation of these evils. It is not evenuntil lately that mankind have admitted that happiness is the sole endof the science of ethics, as of all other sciences; and that thefanatical idea of mortifying the flesh for the love of God has beendiscarded. I have heard, indeed, an ignorant collegian adduce, in favourof Christianity, its hostility to every worldly feeling! (The firstChristian emperor made a law by which seduction was punished with death;if the female pleaded her own consent, she also was punished with death;if the parents endeavoured to screen the criminals, they were banishedand their estates were confiscated; the slaves who might be accessorywere burned alive, or forced to swallow melted lead. The very offspringof an illegal love were involved in the consequences of thesentence. --Gibbon's "Decline and Fall", etc. , volume 2, page 210. Seealso, for the hatred of the primitive Christians to love and evenmarriage, page 269. )

But if happiness be the object of morality, of all human unions anddisunions; if the worthiness of every action is to be estimated by thequantity of pleasurable sensation it is calculated to produce, then theconnection of the sexes is so long sacred as it contributes to thecomfort of the parties, and is naturally dissolved when its evils aregreater than its benefits. There is nothing immoral in this separation. Constancy has nothing virtuous in itself, independently of the pleasureit confers, and partakes of the temporizing spirit of vice in proportionas it endures tamely moral defects of magnitude in the object of itsindiscreet choice. Love is free: to promise for ever to love the samewoman is not less absurd than to promise to believe the same creed: sucha vow, in both cases, excludes us from all inquiry. The language of thevotarist is this: The woman I now love may be infinitely inferior tomany others; the creed I now profess may be a mass of errors andabsurdities; but I exclude myself from all future information as to theamiability of the one and the truth of the other, resolving blindly, andin spite of conviction, to adhere to them. Is this the language ofdelicacy and reason? Is the love of such a frigid heart of more worththan its belief?

The present system of constraint does no more, in the majority ofinstances, than make hypocrites or open enemies. Persons of delicacy andvirtue, unhappily united to one whom they find it impossible to love, spend the loveliest season of their life in unproductive efforts toappear otherwise than they are, for the sake of the feelings of theirpartner or the welfare of their mutual offspring: those of lessgenerosity and refinement openly avow their disappointment, and lingerout the remnant of that union, which only death can dissolve, in a stateof incurable bickering and hostility. The early education of theirchildren takes its colour from the squabbles of the parents; they arenursed in a systematic school of ill-humour, violence, and falsehood. Had they been suffered to part at the moment when indifference renderedtheir union irksome, they would have been spared many years of misery:they would have connected themselves more suitably, and would have foundthat happiness in the society of more congenial partners which is forever denied them by the despotism of marriage. They would have beenseparately useful and happy members of society, who, whilst united, weremiserable and rendered misanthropical by misery. The conviction thatwedlock is indissoluble holds out the strongest of all temptations tothe perverse: they indulge without restraint in acrimony, and all thelittle tyrannies of domestic life, when they know that their victim iswithout appeal. If this connection were put on a rational basis, eachwould be assured that habitual ill-temper would terminate in separation, and would check this vicious and dangerous propensity. 

Prostitution is the legitimate offspring of marriage and itsaccompanying errors. Women, for no other crime than having followed thedictates of a natural appetite, are driven with fury from the comfortsand sympathies of society. It is less venial than murder; and thepunishment which is inflicted on her who destroys her child to escapereproach is lighter than the life of agony and disease to which theprostitute is irrecoverably doomed. Has a woman obeyed the impulse ofunerring nature;--society declares war against her, pitiless and eternalwar: she must be the tame slave, she must make no reprisals; theirs isthe right of persecution, hers the duty of endurance. She lives a lifeof infamy: the loud and bitter laugh of scorn scares her from allreturn. She dies of long and lingering disease: yet SHE is in fault, SHEis the criminal, SHE the froward and untamable child, --and society, forsooth, the pure and virtuous matron, who casts her as an abortionfrom her undefiled bosom! Society avenges herself on the criminals ofher own creation; she is employed in anathematizing the vice to-day, which yesterday she was the most zealous to teach. Thus is formedone-tenth of the population of London: meanwhile the evil is twofold. Young men, excluded by the fanatical idea of chastity from the societyof modest and accomplished women, associate with these vicious andmiserable beings, destroying thereby all those exquisite and delicatesensibilities whose existence cold-hearted worldlings have denied;annihilating all genuine passion, and debasing that to a selfish feelingwhich is the excess of generosity and devotedness. Their body and mindalike crumble into a hideous wreck of humanity; idiocy and diseasebecome perpetuated in their miserable offspring, and distant generationssuffer for the bigoted morality of their forefathers. Chastity is amonkish and evangelical superstition, a greater foe to naturaltemperance even than unintellectual sensuality; it strikes at the rootof all domestic happiness, and consigns more than half of the human raceto misery, that some few may monopolize according to law. A system couldnot well have been devised more studiously hostile to human happinessthan marriage. 

I conceive that from the abolition of marriage, the fit and naturalarrangement of sexual connection would result. I by no means assert thatthe intercourse would be promiscuous: on the contrary, it appears, fromthe relation of parent to child, that this union is generally of longduration, and marked above all others with generosity and self-devotion. But this is a subject which it is perhaps premature to discuss. Thatwhich will result from the abolition of marriage will be natural andright; because choice and change will be exempted from restraint. 

In fact, religion and morality, as they now stand, compose a practicalcode of misery and servitude: the genius of human happiness must tearevery leaf from the accursed book of God ere man can read theinscription on his heart. How would morality, dressed up in stiff staysand finery, start from her own disgusting image should she look in themirror of nature!--

6. 45, 46:--

To the red and baleful sunThat faintly twinkles there. 

The north polar star, to which the axis of the earth, in its presentstate of obliquity, points. It is exceedingly probable, from manyconsiderations, that this obliquity will gradually diminish, until theequator coincides with the ecliptic: the nights and days will thenbecome equal on the earth throughout the year, and probably the seasonsalso. There is no great extravagance in presuming that the progress ofthe perpendicularity of the poles may be as rapid as the progress ofintellect; or that there should be a perfect identity between the moraland physical improvement of the human species. It is certain that wisdomis not compatible with disease, and that, in the present state of theclimates of the earth, health, in the true and comprehensive sense ofthe word, is out of the reach of civilized man. Astronomy teaches usthat the earth is now in its progress, and that the poles are every yearbecoming more and more perpendicular to the ecliptic. The strongevidence afforded by the history of mythology, and geologicalresearches, that some event of this nature has taken place already, affords a strong presumption that this progress is not merely anoscillation, as has been surmised by some late astronomers. (Laplace, "Systeme du Monde". )

Bones of animals peculiar to the torrid zone have been found in thenorth of Siberia, and on the banks of the river Ohio. Plants have beenfound in the fossil state in the interior of Germany, which demand thepresent climate of Hindostan for their production. (Cabanis, "Rapportsdu Physique et du Moral de l'Homme", volume 2 page 406. ) The researchesof M. Bailly establish the existence of a people who inhabited a tractin Tartary 49 degrees north latitude, of greater antiquity than eitherthe Indians, the Chinese, or the Chaldeans, from whom these nationsderived their sciences and theology. (Bailly, "Lettres sur les Sciences, a Voltaire". ) We find, from the testimony of ancient writers, thatBritain, Germany, and France were much colder than at present, and thattheir great rivers were annually frozen over. Astronomy teaches us alsothat since this period the obliquity of the earth's position has beenconsiderably diminished. 

6. 171-173:--

No atom of this turbulence fulfilsA vague and unnecessitated task, Or acts but as it must and ought to act. 

'Deux examples serviront a nous rendre plus sensible le principe quivient d'etre pose; nous emprunterons l'un du physique at l'autre dumoral. Dans un tourbillon de poussiere qu'eleve un vent impetueux, quelque confus qu'il paraisse a nos yeux; dans la plus affreuse tempeteexcitee par des vents opposes qui soulevent les flots, --il n'y a pas uneseule molecule de poussiere ou d'eau qui soit placee au HASARD, quin'ait sa cause suffisante pour occuper le lieu ou elle se trouve, et quin'agisse rigoureusement de la maniere dont ella doit agir. Un geometrequi connaitrait exactement les differentes forces qui agissent dans cesdeux cas, at las proprietes des molecules qui sent mues, demontreraitque d'apres des causes donnees, chaque molecule agit precisement commeella doit agir, et ne peut agir autrement qu'elle ne fait. 

'Dans les convulsions terribles qui agitent quelquefois les societespolitiques, et qui produisent souvent le renversement d'un empire, iln'y a pas une seule action, une seule parole, une seule pensee, uneseule volonte, une seule passion dans las agens qui concourent a larevolution comme destructeurs ou comme victimes, qui ne soit necessaire, qui n'agissa comme ella doit agir, qui n'opere infailliblemont leseffets qu'eile doit operer, suivant la place qu'occupent ces agens danace tourbillon moral. Cela paraitrait evident pour une intelligence quisera en etat de saisir et d'apprecier toutes las actions at reactionsdes esprits at des corps de ceux qui contribuent a cetterevolution. '--"Systeme de la Nature", volume 1, page 44. 

6. 198:--

Necessity! thou mother of the world!

He who asserts the doctrine of Necessity means that, contemplating theevents which compose the moral and material universe, he beholds only animmense and uninterrupted chain of causes and effects, no one of whichcould occupy any other place than it does occupy, or act in any otherplace than it does act. The idea of necessity is obtained by ourexperience of the connection between objects, the uniformity of theoperations of nature, the constant conjunction of similar events, andthe consequent inference of one from the other. Mankind are thereforeagreed in the admission of necessity, if they admit that these twocircumstances take place in voluntary action. Motive is to voluntaryaction in the human mind what cause is to effect in the materialuniverse. The word liberty, as applied to mind, is analogous to the wordchance as applied to matter: they spring from an ignorance of thecertainty of the conjunction of antecedents and consequents. 

Every human being is irresistibly impelled to act precisely as he doesact: in the eternity which preceded his birth a chain of causes wasgenerated, which, operating under the name of motives, make itimpossible that any thought of his mind, or any action of his life, should be otherwise than it is. Were the doctrine of Necessity false, the human mind would no longer be a legitimate object of science; fromlike causes it would be in vain that we should expect like effects; thestrongest motive would no longer be paramount over the conduct; allknowledge would be vague and undeterminate; we could not predict withany certainty that we might not meet as an enemy to-morrow him with whomwe have parted in friendship to-night; the most probable inducements andthe clearest reasonings would lose the invariable influence theypossess. The contrary of this is demonstrably the fact. Similarcircumstances produce the same unvariable effects. The precise characterand motives of any man on any occasion being given, the moralphilosopher could predict his actions with as much certainty as thenatural philosopher could predict the effects of the mixture of anyparticular chemical substances. Why is the aged husbandman moreexperienced than the young beginner? Because there is a uniform, undeniable necessity in the operations of the material universe. Why isthe old statesman more skilful than the raw politician) Because, relyingon the necessary conjunction of motive and action, he proceeds toproduce moral effects, by the application of those moral causes whichexperience has shown to be effectual. Some actions may be found to whichwe can attach no motives, but these are the effects of causes with whichwe are unacquainted. Hence the relation which motive bears to voluntaryaction is that of cause to effect; nor, placed in this point of view, isit, or ever has it been, the subject of popular or philosophicaldispute. None but the few fanatics who are engaged in the herculean taskof reconciling the justice of their God with the misery of man, willlonger outrage common sense by the supposition of an event without acause, a voluntary action without a motive. History, politics, morals, criticism, all grounds of reasonings, all principles of science, alikeassume the truth of the doctrine of Necessity. No farmer carrying hiscorn to market doubts the sale of it at the market price. The master ofa manufactory no more doubts that he can purchase the human labournecessary for his purposes than that his machinery will act as they havebeen accustomed to act. 

But, whilst none have scrupled to admit necessity as influencing matter, many have disputed its dominion over mind. Independently of itsmilitating with the received ideas of the justice of God, it is by nomeans obvious to a superficial inquiry. When the mind observes its ownoperations, it feels no connection of motive and action: but as we know'nothing more of causation than the constant conjunction of objects andthe consequent inference of one from the other, as we find that thesetwo circumstances are universally allowed to have place in voluntaryaction, we may be easily led to own that they are subjected to thenecessity common to all causes. ' The actions of the will have a regularconjunction with circumstances and characters; motive is to voluntaryaction what cause is to effect. But the only idea we can form ofcausation is a constant conjunction of similar objects, and theconsequent inference of one from the other: wherever this is the casenecessity is clearly established. 

The idea of liberty, applied metaphorically to the will, has sprung froma misconception of the meaning of the word power. What is power?--idquod potest, that which can produce any given effect. To deny power isto say that nothing can or has the power to be or act. In the only truesense of the word power, it applies with equal force to the lodestone asto the human will. Do you think these motives, which I shall present, are powerful enough to rouse him? is a question just as common as, Doyou think this lever has the power of raising this weight? The advocatesof free-will assert that the will has the power of refusing to bedetermined by the strongest motive; but the strongest motive is thatwhich, overcoming all others, ultimately prevails; this assertiontherefore amounts to a denial of the will being ultimately determined bythat motive which does determine it, which is absurd. But it is equallycertain that a man cannot resist the strongest motive as that he cannotovercome a physical impossibility. 

The doctrine of Necessity tends to introduce a great change into theestablished notions of morality, and utterly to destroy religion. Rewardand punishment must be considered, by the Necessarian, merely as motiveswhich he would employ in order to procure the adoption or abandonment ofany given line of conduct. Desert, in the present sense of the word, would no longer have any meaning; and he who should inflict pain uponanother for no better reason than that he deserved it, would onlygratify his revenge under pretence of satisfying justice? It is notenough, says the advocate of free-will, that a criminal should beprevented from a repetition of his crime: he should feel pain, and historments, when justly inflicted, ought precisely to be proportioned tohis fault. But utility is morality; that which is incapable of producinghappiness is useless; and though the crime of Damiens must be condemned, yet the frightful torments which revenge, under the name of justice, inflicted on this unhappy man cannot be supposed to have augmented, evenat the long run, the stock of pleasurable sensation in the world. At thesame time, the doctrine of Necessity does not in the least diminish ourdisapprobation of vice. The conviction which all feel that a viper is apoisonous animal, and that a tiger is constrained, by the inevitablecondition of his existence, to devour men, does not induce us to avoidthem lass sedulously, or, even more, to hesitate in destroying them: buthe would surely be of a hard heart who, meeting with a serpent on adesert island, or in a situation where it was incapable of injury, should wantonly deprive it of existence. A Necessarian is inconsequentto his own principles if he indulges in hatred or contempt; thecompassion which he feels for the criminal is unmixed with a desire ofinjuring him: he looks with an elevated and dreadless composure upon thelinks of the universal chain as they pass before his eyes; whilstcowardice, curiosity, and inconsistency only assail him in proportion tothe feebleness and indistinctness with which he has perceived andrejected the delusions of free-will. 

Religion is the perception of the relation in which we stand to theprinciple of the universe. But if the principle of the universe be notan organic being, the model and prototype of man, the relation betweenit and human beings is absolutely none. Without some insight into itswill respecting our actions religion is nugatory and vain. But will isonly a mode of animal mind; moral qualities also are such as only ahuman being can possess; to attribute them to the principle of theuniverse is to annex to it properties incompatible with any possibledefinition of its nature. It is probable that the word God wasoriginally only an expression denoting the unknown cause of the knownevents which men perceived in the universe. By the vulgar mistake of ametaphor for a real being, of a word for a thing, it became a man, endowed with human qualities and governing the universe as an earthlymonarch governs his kingdom. Their addresses to this imaginary being, indeed, are much in the same style as those of subjects to a king. Theyacknowledge his benevolence, deprecate his anger, and supplicate hisfavour. 

But the doctrine of Necessity teaches us that in no case could any eventhave happened otherwise than it did happen, and that, if God is theauthor of good, He is also the author of evil; that, if He is entitledto our gratitude for the one, He is entitled to our hatred for theother; that, admitting the existence of this hypothetic being, He isalso subjected to the dominion of an immutable necessity. It is plainthat the same arguments which prove that God is the author of food, light, and life, prove Him also to be the author of poison, darkness, and death. The wide-wasting earthquake, the storm, the battle, and thetyranny, are attributable to this hypothetic being in the same degree asthe fairest forms of nature, sunshine, liberty, and peace. 

But we are taught, by the doctrine of Necessity, that there is neithergood nor evil in the universe, otherwise than as the events to which weapply these epithets have relation to our own peculiar mode of being. Still less than with the hypothesis of a God will the doctrine ofNecessity accord with the belief of a future state of punishment. Godmade man such as he is, and than damned him for being so: for to saythat God was the author of all good, and man the author of all evil, isto say that one man made a straight line and a crooked one, and anotherman made the incongruity. 

A Mahometan story, much to the present purpose, is recorded, whereinAdam and Moses are introduced disputing before God in the followingmanner. Thou, says Moses, art Adam, whom God created, and animated withthe breath of life, and caused to be worshipped by the angels, andplaced in Paradise, from whence mankind have been expelled for thyfault. Whereto Adam answered, Thou art Moses, whom God chose for Hisapostle, and entrusted with His word, by giving thee the tables of thelaw, and whom He vouchsafed to admit to discourse with Himself. How manyyears dost thou find the law was written before I was created? SaysMoses, Forty. And dost thou not find, replied Adam, these words therein, And Adam rebelled against his Lord and transgressed? Which Mosesconfessing, Dost thou therefore blame me, continued he, for doing thatwhich God wrote of me that I should do, forty years before I wascreated, nay, for what was decreed concerning me fifty thousand yearsbefore the creation of heaven and earth?--Sale's "Prelim. Disc. To theKoran", page 164. 

7. 13:--

There is no God. 

This negation must be understood solely to affect a creative Deity. Thehypothesis of a pervading Spirit co-eternal with the universe remainsunshaken. 

A close examination of the validity of the proofs adduced to support anyproposition is the only secure way of attaining truth, on the advantagesof which it is unnecessary to descant: our knowledge of the existence ofa Deity is a subject of such importance that it cannot be too minutelyinvestigated; in consequence of this conviction we proceed briefly andimpartially to examine the proofs which have been adduced. It isnecessary first to consider the nature of belief. 

When a proposition is offered to the mind, it perceives the agreement ordisagreement of the ideas of which it is composed. A perception of theiragreement is termed BELIEF. Many obstacles frequently prevent thisperception from being immediate; these the mind attempts to remove inorder that the perception may be distinct. The mind is active in theinvestigation in order to perfect the state of perception of therelation which the component ideas of the proposition bear to each, which is passive: the investigation being confused with the perceptionhas induced many falsely to imagine that the mind is active inbelief, --that belief is an act of volition, --in consequence of which itmay be regulated by the mind. Pursuing, continuing this mistake, theyhave attached a degree of criminality to disbelief; of which, in itsnature, it is incapable: it is equally incapable of merit. 

Belief, then, is a passion, the strength of which, like every otherpassion, is in precise proportion to the degrees of excitement. 

The degrees of excitement are three. 

The senses are the sources of all knowledge to the mind; consequentlytheir evidence claims the strongest assent. 

The decision of the mind, founded upon our own experience, derived fromthese sources, claims the next degree. 

The experience of others, which addresses itself to the former one, occupies the lowest degree. 

(A graduated scale, on which should be marked the capabilities ofpropositions to approach to the test of the senses, would be a justbarometer of the belief which ought to be attached to them. )

Consequently no testimony can be admitted which is contrary to reason;reason is founded on the evidence of our senses. 

Every proof may be referred to one of these three divisions: it is to beconsidered what arguments we receive from each of them, which shouldconvince us of the existence of a Deity. 

1st, The evidence of the senses. If the Deity should appear to us, if Heshould convince our senses of His existence, this revelation wouldnecessarily command belief. Those to whom the Deity has thus appearedhave the strongest possible conviction of His existence. But the God ofTheologians is incapable of local visibility. 

2d, Reason. It is urged that man knows that whatever is must either havehad a beginning, or have existed from all eternity: he also knows thatwhatever is not eternal must have had a cause. When this reasoning isapplied to the universe, it is necessary to prove that it was created:until that is clearly demonstrated we may reasonably suppose that it hasendured from all eternity. We must prove design before we can infer adesigner. The only idea which we can form of causation is derivable fromthe constant conjunction of objects, and the consequent inference of onefrom the other. In a case where two propositions are diametricallyopposite, the mind believes that which is least incomprehensible;--it iseasier to suppose that the universe has existed from all eternity thanto conceive a being beyond its limits capable of creating it: if themind sinks beneath the weight of one, is it an alleviation to increasethe intolerability of the burthen?

The other argument, which is founded on a man's knowledge of his ownexistence, stands thus. A man knows not only that he now is, but thatonce he was not; consequently there must have been a cause. But our ideaof causation is alone derivable from the constant conjunction of objectsand the consequent inference of one from the other; and, reasoningexperimentally, we can only infer from effects causes exactly adequateto those effects. But there certainly is a generative power which iseffected by certain instruments: we cannot prove that it is inherent inthese instruments; nor is the contrary hypothesis capable ofdemonstration: we admit that the generative power is incomprehensible;but to suppose that the same effect is produced by an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent being leaves the cause in the same obscurity, butrenders it more incomprehensible. 

3d, Testimony. It is required that testimony should not be contrary toreason. The testimony that the Deity convinces the senses of men of Hisexistence can only be admitted by us if our mind considers it lessprobable that these men should have been deceived than that the Deityshould have appeared to them. Our reason can never admit the testimonyof men, who not only declare that they were eye-witnesses of miracles, but that the Deity was irrational; for He commanded that He should bebelieved, He proposed the highest rewards for faith, eternal punishmentsfor disbelief. We can only command voluntary actions; belief is not anact of volition; the mind is even passive, or involuntarily active; fromthis it is evident that we have no sufficient testimony, or rather thattestimony is insufficient to prove the being of a God. It has beenbefore shown that it cannot be deduced from reason. They alone, then, who have been convinced by the evidence of the senses can believe it. 

Hence it is evident that, having no proofs from either of the threesources of conviction, the mind CANNOT believe the existence of acreative God: it is also evident that, as belief is a passion of themind, no degree of criminality is attachable to disbelief; and that theyonly are reprehensible who neglect to remove the false medium throughwhich their mind views any subject of discussion. Every reflecting mindmust acknowledge that there is no proof of the existence of a Deity. 

God is an hypothesis, and, as such, stands in need of proof: the onusprobandi rests on the theist. Sir Isaac Newton says: Hypotheses nonfingo, quicquid enim ex phaenomenis non deducitur hypothesis vocandaest, et hypothesis vel metaphysicae, vel physicae, vel qualitatumoccultarum, seu mechanicae, in philosophia locum non habent. To allproofs of the existence of a creative God apply this valuable rule. Wesee a variety of bodies possessing a variety of powers: we merely knowtheir effects; we are in a state of ignorance with respect to theiressences and causes. These Newton calls the phenomena of things; but thepride of philosophy is unwilling to admit its ignorance of their causes. From the phenomena, which are the objects of our senses, we attempt toinfer a cause, which we call God, and gratuitously endow it with allnegative and contradictory qualities. From this hypothesis we inventthis general name, to conceal our ignorance of causes and essences. Thebeing called God by no means answers with the conditions prescribed byNewton; it bears every mark of a veil woven by philosophical conceit, tohide the ignorance of philosophers even from themselves. They borrow thethreads of its texture from the anthropomorphism of the vulgar. Wordshave been used by sophists for the same purposes, from the occultqualities of the peripatetics to the effluvium of Boyle and thecrinities or nebulae of Herschel. God is represented as infinite, eternal, incomprehensible; He is contained under every predicate in nonthat the logic of ignorance could fabricate. Even His worshippers allowthat it is impossible to form any idea of Him: they exclaim with theFrench poet, Pour dire ce qu'il est, il faut etre lui-meme. 

Lord Bacon says that atheism leaves to man reason, philosophy, naturalpiety, laws, reputation, and everything that can serve to conduct him tovirtue; but superstition destroys all these, and erects itself into atyranny over the understandings of men: hence atheism never disturbs thegovernment, but renders man more clear-sighted, since he seas nothingbeyond the boundaries of the present life. --Bacon's "Moral Essays". 

La premiere theologie de l'homme lui fit d'abord craindre at adorer leselements meme, des objets materiels at grossiers; il randit ensuite seshommages a des agents presidant aux elements, a des genies inferieurs, ades heros, ou a des hommes doues de grandes qualites. A force dereflechir il crut simplifier les choses en soumettant la nature entierea un seul agent, a un esprit, a una ame universelle, qui mettait cettenature et ses parties en mouvement. En remontant de causes en causes, les mortels ont fini par ne rien voir; at c'est dans cette obscuritequ'ils ont place leur Dieu; c'est dans cat abime tenebreux que leurimagination inquiete travaille toujours a se fabriquer des chimeres, quiles affligeront jusqu'a ce que la connaissance da la nature les detrompedes fantomes qu'ils ont toujours si vainement adores. 

Si nous voulons nous rendre compte de nos idees sur la Divinite, nousserons obliges de convanir que, par le mot "Dieu", les hommes n'ontjamais pu designer que la cause la plus cachee, la plus eloignee, laplus inconnue des effets qu'ils voyaient: ils ne font usage de ce mot, que lorsque le jeu des causes naturelles at connues cesse d'etre visiblepour eux; des qu'ils perdent le fil de ces causes, on des que leuresprit ne peut plus en suivre la chaine, ils tranchent leur difficulte, at terminent leurs recherches en appellant Dieu la derniere des causes, c'est-a-dire celle qui est au-dela de toutes les causes qu'ilsconnaissent; ainsi ils ne font qu'assigner une denomination vague a unecause ignoree, a laquelle leur paresse ou les bornes de leursconnaissances les forcent de s'arreter. Toutes les fois qu'on nous ditque Dieu est l'auteur de quelque phenomene, cela signifie qu'on ignorecomment un tel phenomene a pu s'operer par le secours des forces ou descauses que nous connaissons dans la nature. C'est ainsi que le commundes hommes, dont l'ignorance est la partage, attribue a la Divinite nonseulement les effets inusites qui las frappent, mais encore lesevenemens les plus simples, dont les causes sont les plus faciles aconnaitre pour quiconque a pu les mediter. En un mot, l'homme a toujoursrespecte les causes inconnues des effets surprenans, que son ignorancel'empechait de demeler. Ce fut sur les debris de la nature que leshommes eleverent le colosse imaginaire de la Divinite. 

Si l'ignorance de la nature donna la naissance aux dieux, laconnaissance de la nature est faite pour les detruire. A mesure quel'homme s'instruit, ses forces at ses ressources augmentent avec seslumieres; les sciences, les arts conservateurs, l'industrie, luifournissent des secours; l'experience le rassure ou lui procure desmoyens de resister aux efforts de bien des causesqui cessent de l'alarmer des qu'il les a connues. En un mot, sesterreurs se dissipent dans la meme proportion que son esprit s'eclaire. L'homnme instruit cesse d'etre superstitieux. 

Ce n'est jamais que sur parole que des peuples entiers adorent le Dieude leurs peres at de leurs pretres: l'autorite, la confiance, lasoumission, et l'habitude leur tiennent lieu de conviction et depreuves; ils se prosternent et prient, parce que leurs peres leur outappris a se prosterner at prier: mais pourquoi ceux-ci se sont-ils mis agenoux? C'est que dans les temps eloignes leurs legislateurs et leursguides leur en ont fait un devoir. 'Adorez at croyez, ' ont-ils dit, 'desdieux que vous ne pouvez comprendre; rapportez-vous-en a notre sagesseprofonde; nous en savons plus que vous sur la divinite. ' Mais pourquoim'en rapporterais-je a vous? C'est que Dieu le veut ainsi, c'est queDieu vous punira si vous osez resister. Mais ce Dieu n'est-il donc pasla chose en question? Cependant las hommes se sont toujours payes de cecercle vicieux; la paresse de leur esprit leur fit trouver plus court des'en rapporter au jugament des autres. Toutes las notions religieusessent fondees uniquement sur l'autorite; toutes les religions du mondedefendent l'examen et ne veulent pas que l'on raisonne; c'est l'autoritequi veut qu'on croie en Dieu; ce Dieu n'est lui-meme fonde que surl'autorite de quelques hommes qui pretendent le connaitre, et venir desa part pour l'annoncer a la terre. Un Dieu fait par les hommes a sansdoute bosom des hommes pour se faire connaitre aux hommes. 

Ne serait-ce donc que pour des pretres, des inspires, des metaphysiciensque serait reservee la conviction de l'existence d'un Dieu, que l'on ditneanmoins si necessaire a tout le genre humain? Mais trouvons-nous del'harmonie entre les opinions theologiques des differens inspires, oudes penseurs repandus sur la terre? Ceux meme qui font professiond'adorer le meme Dieu, sent-ils d'accord sur son compte? Sont-ilscontents des preuves que leurs collegues apportent de son existence?Souscrivent-ils unanimement aux idees qu'ils presentent sur sa nature, sur sa conduite, sur la facon d'entendre ses pretandus oracles? Est-ilune centree sur la terre ou la science de Dieu se soit reellementparfectionnee? A-t-elle pris quelqne part la consistance et l'uniformiteque nous voyons prendre aux connaissances humaines, aux arts les plusfutiles, aux metiers les plus meprises? Ces mots d'esprit, d'immaterialite, de creation, de predestination, de grace; cette foulede distinctions subtiles dont la theologie s'est parteut remplie dansquelques pays, ces inventions si ingenieuses, imaginees par des penseursqui se sont succedes depuis taut de siecles, n'ont fait, helas!qu'embrouiller les choses, et jamais la science la plus necassaire auxhommes n'a jusqu'ici pu acquerir la moindre fixite. Depuis des milliersd'annees ces reveurs oisifs se sont perpetuellement relayes pour mediterla Divinite, pour deviner ses voies cachees, pour inventer deshypotheses propres a developper cette enigme importante. Leur peu desucces n'a point decourage la vanite theologique; toujours on a parle deDieu: on s'est egorge pour lui, et cet etre sublime demeure toujours leplus ignore et le plus discute. 

Les hommes auraient ete trop heureux, si, se bornant aux objets visiblesqui les interessent, ils eussent employe a perfectionner leurs sciencesreelles, leurs lois, leur morale, leur education, la moitie des effortsqu'ils ont mis dans leurs recherches sur la Divinite. Ils auraiant etebien plus sages encore, et plus fortunes, s'ils eussent pu consentir alaisser leurs guides desoeuvres se quereller entre eux, et sonder desprofondeurs capables de les etourdir, sans se meler de leurs disputesinsensees. Mais il est de l'essence de l'ignorance d'attacher del'importance a ce qu'elle ne comprend pas. La vanite humaine fait quel'esprit se roidit contra des difficultes. Plus un objet se derobe a nosyeux, plus nous faisons d'efforts pour le saisir, parce que des-lors ilaiguillonne notre orgueil, il excite notre curiosite, il nous paraitinteressant. En combattant pour son Dieu chacun ne combattit en effetque pour les interets de sa propra vanite, qui de toutes les passionsproduites par la mal-organisation de la societe est la plus prompte as'alarmer, et la plus propre a produire de tres grandes folies. 

Si ecartant pour un moment les idees facheuses que la theologie nousdonne d'un Dieu capriciaux, dont les decrets partiaux et despotiquesdecident du sort des humains, nous ne voulons fixer nos yeux que sur labonte pretendue, que tous les hommes, meme en tramblant devant ce Dieu, s'accordent a lui donner; si nous lui supposons le projet qu'on luiprete de n'avoir travaille que pour sa propre gloire, d'exiger leshommages des etres intelligens; de ne chercher dans ses oeuvres que lebien-etre du genre humain: comment concilier ces vues et cesdispositions avec l'ignorance vraiment invincible dans laquelle ce Dieu, si glorieux et si bon, laisse la plupart des hommes sur son compte? SiDieu veut etre connu, cheri, remercie, que ne se montre-t-il sous destraits favorables a tous ces etres intelligens dont il veut etre aime etadore? Pourquoi ne point se manifester a toute la terre dune facon nonequivoque, bien plus capable de nous convaincre que ces revelationsparticulieres qui semblent accuser la Divinite d'une partialite facheusepour quelques-unes de ses creatures? La tout-puissant n'auroit-il doncpas des moyens plus convainquans de se montrer aux hommas que cesmetamorphoses ridicules, cas incarnations pretendues, qui nous sontattestees par des ecrivains si peu d'accord entre eux dans les recitsqu'ils en font? Au lieu de tant de miracles, inventes pour prouver lamission divine de tant de legislateurs reveres par les differens peuplesdu monde, le souverain des esprits ne pouvait-il pas convaincre toutd'un coup l'esprit humain des choses qu'il a voulu lui faire connaitre?Au lieu de suspendre un soleil dans la voute du firmament; au lieu derepandre sans ordre les etoiles et les constellations qui remplissentl'espace, n'eut-il pas ete plus conforme aux vues d'un Dieu si jaloux desa gloire et si bien-intentionne pour l'homme d'ecrire, d'une facon nonsujette a dispute, son nom, ses attributs, ses volontes permanentes encaracteres ineffacables, et lisibles egalement pour tous les habitantsde la terre? Personne alors n'aurait pu douter de l'existence d'un Dieu, de ses volontes claires, de ses intentions visibles. Sous les yeux de ceDieu si terrible, personne n'aurait eu l'audace de violer sesordonnances; nul mortel n'eut ose se mettre dans le cas d'attirer sacolere: enfin nul homme n'eut eu le front d'en imposer en son nom, oud'interpreter ses volontes suivant ses propres fantaisies. 

En effet, quand meme on admettrait l'existence du Dieu theologique et larealite des attributs si discordans qu'on lui donne, l'on n'en peut rienconclure, pour autoriser la conduite ou les cultes qu'on prescrit de luirendre. La theologie est vraiment "le tonneau des Danaides". A force dequalites contradictoires et d'assartions hasardees, ella a, pour ainsidire, tellement garrotte son Dieu qu'elle l'a mis dans l'impossibilited'agir. S'il est infiniment bon, quelle raison aurions-nous de lecraindre? S'il est infiniment sage, de quoi nous inquieter sur notresort? S'il sait tout, pourquoi l'avertir de nos besoins, et le fatiguerde nos prieres? S'il est partout, pourquoi lui elever des temples? S'ilest maitre de tout, pourquoi lui faire des sacrifices et des offrandes?S'il est juste, comment croire qu'il punisse des creatures qu'il arempli de faiblesses? Si la grace fait tout en elles, quelle raisonaurait-il de les recompenser? S'il est tout-puissant, commentl'offenser, comment lui resister? S'il est raisonnable, comment semattrait-il en colere contre des aveugles, a qui il a laisse la libertede deraisonner? S'il est immuable, de quel droit pretendrions-nous fairechanger ses decrets? S'il est inconcevable, pourquoi nous en occuper?S'IL A PARLE, POURQUOI L'UNIVERS N'EST-IL PAS CONVAINCU? Si laconnaissance d'un Dieu est la plus necessaire, pourquoi n'est-elle pasla plus evidente et a plus claire?--"Systeme de la Nature", London, 1781. 

The enlightened and benevolent Pliny thus publicly professes himself anatheist:--Quapropter effigiem Dei formamque quaerere imbecillitatishumanae reor. Quisquis est Deus (si modo est alius) et quacunque inparte, totus est sensus, totus est visus, totus auditus, totus animae, totus animi, totus sui... Imperfectae vero in homine naturae praecipuasolatia ne deum quidem posse omnia. Namque nec sibi potest mortemconsciscere, si velit, quad homini dedit optimum in tantis vitae poenis:nec mortales aeternitata donare, aut revocare defunctos; nec facere utqui vixit non vixerit, qui honores gessit non gessarit, nullumque haberein praeteritum ius, praeterquam oblivionis, atque (ut facetis quoqueargumentis societas haec cum deo copuletur) ut bis dena viginti nonsint, et multa similiter efficere non posse. --Per quae declaratur hauddubie naturae potentiam id quoque esse quad Deum vocamus. --Plin. "Nat. Hist. " cap. De Deo. 

The consistent Newtonian is necessarily an atheist. See Sir W. Drummond's "Academical Questions", chapter 3. --Sir W. Seems to considerthe atheism to which it leads as a sufficient presumption of thefalsehood of the system of gravitation; but surely it is more consistentwith the good faith of philosophy to admit a deduction from facts thanan hypothesis incapable of proof, although it might militate with theobstinate preconceptions of the mob. Had this author, instead ofinveighing against the guilt and absurdity of atheism, demonstrated itsfalsehood, his conduct would have been more suited to the modesty of thesceptic and the toleration of the philosopher. 

Omnia enim per Dei potentiam facta sunt: imo quia naturae potentia nullaest nisi ipsa Dei potentia. Certum est nos eatenus Dei potentiam nonintelligere, quatenus causas naturales ignoramus; adeoque stulte adeandem Dei potentiam recurritur, quando rei alicuius causam naturalem, sive est, ipsam Dei potantiam ignoramus. -- Spinosa, "Tract. Theologico-Pol. " chapter 1, page 14. 

7. 67:--

Ahasuerus, rise!

'Ahasuerus the Jew crept forth from the dark cave of Mount Carmel. Neartwo thousand years have elapsed since he was first goaded bynever-ending restlessness to rove the globe from pole to pole. When ourLord was wearied with the burthen of His ponderous cross, and wanted torest before the door of Ahasuerus, the unfeeling wretch drove Him awaywith brutality. The Saviour of mankind staggered, sinking under theheavy load, but uttered no complaint. An angel of death appeared beforeAhasuerus, and exclaimed indignantly, "Barbarian! thou hast denied restto the Son of man: be it denied thee also, until He comes to judge theworld. "

'A black demon, let loose from hell upon Ahasuerus, goads him now fromcountry to country; he is denied the consolation which death affords, and precluded from the rest of the peaceful grave. 

'Ahasuerus crept forth from the dark cave of Mount Carmel--he shook thedust from his beard--and taking up one of the skulls heaped there, hurled it down the eminence: it rebounded from the earth in shiveredatoms. "This was my father!" roared Ahasuerus. Seven more skulls rolleddown from rock to rock; while the infuriate Jew, following them withghastly looks, exclaimed--"And these were my wives!" He still continuedto hurl down skull after skull, roaring in dreadful accents--"And these, and these, and these were my children! They COULD DIE; but I! reprobatewretch! alas! I cannot die! Dreadful beyond conception is the judgementthat hangs over me. Jerusalem fell--I crushed the sucking babe, andprecipitated myself into the destructive flames. I cursed theRomans--but, alas! alas! the restless curse held me by the hair, --and Icould not die!

'"Rome the giantess fell--I placed myself before the falling statue--shefell and did not crush me. Nations sprang up and disappeared beforeme;--but I remained and did not die. From cloud-encircled cliffs did Iprecipitate myself into the ocean; but the foaming billows cast me uponthe shore, and the burning arrow of existence pierced my cold heartagain. I leaped into Etna's flaming abyss, and roared with the giantsfor ten long months, polluting with my groans the Mount's sulphureousmouth--ah! ten long months. The volcano fermented, and in a fiery streamof lava cast me up. I lay torn by the torture-snakes of hell amid theglowing cinders, and yet continued to exist. --A forest was on fire: Idarted on wings of fury and despair into the crackling wood. Firedropped upon me from the trees, but the flames only singed my limbs;alas! it could not consume them. --I now mixed with the butchers ofmankind, and plunged in the tempest of the raging battle. I roareddefiance to the infuriate Gaul, defiance to the victorious German; butarrows and spears rebounded in shivers from my body. The Saracen'sflaming sword broke upon my skull: balls in vain hissed upon me: thelightnings of battle glared harmless around my loins: in vain did theelephant trample on me, in vain the iron hoof of the wrathful steed! Themine, big with destructive power, burst upon me, and hurled me high inthe air--I fell on heaps of smoking limbs, but was only singed. Thegiant's steel club rebounded from my body; the executioner's hand couldnot strangle me, the tiger's tooth could not pierce me, nor would thehungry lion in the circus devour me. I cohabited with poisonous snakes, and pinched the red crest of the dragon. --The serpent stung, but couldnot destroy me. The dragon tormented, but dared not to devour me. --I nowprovoked the fury of tyrants: I said to Nero, 'Thou art a bloodhound!' Isaid to Christiern, 'Thou art a bloodhound!, I said to Muley Ismail, 'Thou art a bloodhound!'--The tyrants invented cruel torments, but didnot kill me. Ha! not to be able to die--not to be able to die--not to bepermitted to rest after the toils of life--to be doomed to be imprisonedfor ever in the clay-formed dungeon--to be for ever clogged with thisworthless body, its lead of diseases and infirmities--to be condemned to[be]hold for millenniums that yawning monster Sameness, and Time, thathungry hyaena, ever bearing children, and ever devouring again heroffspring!--Ha! not to be permitted to die! Awful Avenger in Heaven, hast Thou in Thine armoury of wrath a punishment more dreadful? then letit thunder upon me, command a hurricane to sweep me down to the foot ofCarmel, that I there may lie extended; may pant, and writhe, and die. !"'

This fragment is the translation of part of some German work, whosetitle I have vainly endeavoured to discover. I picked it up, dirty andtorn, some years ago, in Lincoln's-Inn Fields. 

7. 135, 136:--

I will beget a Son, and He shall bearThe sins of all the world. 

A book is put into our hands when children, called the Bible, thepurport of whose history is briefly this: That God made the earth in sixdays, and there planted a delightful garden, in which He placed thefirst pair of human beings. In the midst of the garden He planted atree, whose fruit, although within their reach, they were forbidden totouch. That the Devil, in the shape of a snake, persuaded them to eat ofthis fruit; in consequence of which God condemned both them and theirposterity yet unborn to satisfy His justice by their eternal misery. That, four thousand years after these events (the human race in themeanwhile having gone unredeemed to perdition), God engendered with thebetrothed wife of a carpenter in Judea (whose virginity was neverthelessuninjured), and begat a son, whose name was Jesus Christ; and who wascrucified and died, in order that no more men might be devoted tohell-fire, He bearing the burthen of His Father's displeasure by proxy. The book states, in addition, that the soul of whoever disbelieves thissacrifice will be burned with everlasting fire. 

During many ages of misery and darkness this story gained implicitbelief; but at length men arose who suspected that it was a fable andimposture, and that Jesus Christ, so far from being a God, was only aman like themselves. But a numerous set of men, who derived and stillderive immense emoluments from this opinion, in the shape of a popularbelief, told the vulgar that if they did not believe in the Bible theywould be damned to all eternity; and burned, imprisoned, and poisonedall the unbiassed and unconnected inquirers who occasionally arose. Theystill oppress them, so far as the people, now become more enlightened, will allow. 

The belief in all that the Bible contains is called Christianity. ARoman governor of Judea, at the instance of a priest-led mob, crucifieda man called Jesus eighteen centuries ago. He was a man of pure life, who desired to rescue his countrymen from the tyranny of their barbarousand degrading superstitions. The common fate of all who desire tobenefit mankind awaited him. The rabble, at the instigation of thepriests, demanded his death, although his very judge made publicacknowledgement of his innocence. Jesus was sacrificed to the honour ofthat God with whom he was afterwards confounded. It is of importance, therefore, to distinguish between the pretended character of this beingas the Son of God and the Saviour of the world, and his real characteras a man, who, for a vain attempt to reform the world, paid the forfeitof his life to that overbearing tyranny which has since so longdesolated the universe in his name. Whilst the one is a hypocriticalDaemon, who announces Himself as the God of compassion and peace, evenwhilst He stretches forth His blood-red hand with the sword of discordto waste the earth, having confessedly devised this scheme of desolationfrom eternity; the other stands in the foremost list of those trueheroes who have died in the glorious martyrdom of liberty, and havebraved torture, contempt, and poverty in the cause of sufferinghumanity. (Since writing this note I have some reason to suspect thatJesus was an ambitious man, who aspired to the throne of Judea. 

The vulgar, ever in extremes, became persuaded that the crucifixion ofJesus was a supernatural event. Testimonies of miracles, so frequent inunenlightened ages, were not wanting to prove that he was somethingdivine. This belief, rolling through the lapse of ages, met with thereveries of Plato and the reasonings of Aristotle, and acquired forceand extent, until the divinity of Jesus became a dogma, which to disputewas death, which to doubt was infamy. 

CHRISTIANITY is now the established religion: he who attempts to impugnit must be contented to behold murderers and traitors take precedence ofhim in public opinion; though, if his genius be equal to his courage, and assisted by a peculiar coalition of circumstances, future ages mayexalt him to a divinity, and persecute others in his name, as he waspersecuted in the name of his predecessor in the homage of the world. 

The same means that have supported every other popular belief havesupported Christianity. War, imprisonment, assassination, and falsehood;deeds of unexampled and incomparable atrocity have made it what it is. The blood shed by the votaries of the God of mercy and peace, since theestablishment of His religion, would probably suffice to drown all othersectaries now on the habitable globe. We derive from our ancestors afaith thus fostered and supported: we quarrel, persecute, and hate forits maintenance. Even under a government which, whilst it infringes thevery right of thought and speech, boasts of permitting the liberty ofthe press, a man is pilloried and imprisoned because he is a deist, andno one raises his voice in the indignation of outraged humanity. But itis ever a proof that the falsehood of a proposition is felt by those whouse coercion, not reasoning, to procure its admission; and adispassionate observer would feel himself more powerfully interested infavour of a man who, depending on the truth of his opinions, simplystated his reasons for entertaining them, than in that of his aggressorwho, daringly avowing his unwillingness or incapacity to answer them byargument, proceeded to repress the energies and break the spirit oftheir promulgator by that torture and imprisonment whose infliction hecould command. 

Analogy seems to favour the opinion that as, like other systems, Christianity has arisen and augmented, so like them it will decay andperish; that as violence, darkness, and deceit, not reasoning andpersuasion, have procured its admission among mankind, so, whenenthusiasm has subsided, and time, that infallible controverter of falseopinions, has involved its pretended evidences in the darkness ofantiquity, it will become obsolete; that Milton's poem alone will givepermanency to the remembrance of its absurdities; and that men willlaugh as heartily at grace, faith, redemption, and original sin, as theynow do at the metamorphoses of Jupiter, the miracles of Romish saints, the efficacy of witchcraft, and the appearance of departed spirits. 

Had the Christian religion commenced and continued by the mere force ofreasoning and persuasion, the preceding analogy would be inadmissible. We should never speculate on the future obsoleteness of a systemperfectly conformable to nature and reason: it would endure so long asthey endured; it would be a truth as indisputable as the light of thesun, the criminality of murder, and other facts, whose evidence, depending on our organization and relative situations, must remainacknowledged as satisfactory so long as man is man. It is anincontrovertible fact, the consideration of which ought to repress thehasty conclusions of credulity, or moderate its obstinacy in maintainingthem, that, had the Jews not been a fanatical race of men, had even theresolution of Pontius Pilate been equal to his candour, the Christianreligion never could have prevailed, it could not even have existed: onso feeble a thread hangs the most cherished opinion of a sixth of thehuman race! When will the vulgar learn humility? When will the pride ofignorance blush at having believed before it could comprehend?

Either the Christian religion is true, or it is false: if true, it comesfrom God, and its authenticity can admit of doubt and dispute no furtherthan its omnipotent author is willing to allow. Either the power or thegoodness of God is called in question, if He leaves those doctrines mostessential to the well-being of man in doubt and dispute; the only oneswhich, since their promulgation, have been the subject of unceasingcavil, the cause of irreconcilable hatred. IF GOD HAS SPOKEN, WHY IS THEUNIVERSE NOT CONVINCED?

There is this passage in the Christian Scriptures: 'Those who obey notGod, and believe not the Gospel of his Son, shall be punished witheverlasting destruction. ' This is the pivot upon which all religionsturn:--they all assume that it is in our power to believe or not tobelieve; whereas the mind can only believe that which it thinks true. Ahuman being can only be supposed accountable for those actions which areinfluenced by his will. But belief is utterly distinct from andunconnected with volition: it is the apprehension of the agreement ordisagreement of the ideas that compose any preposition. Belief is apassion, or involuntary operation of the mind, and, like other passions, its intensity is precisely proportionate to the degrees of excitement. Volition is essential to merit or demerit. But the Christian religionattaches the highest possible degrees of merit and demerit to that whichis worthy of neither, and which is totally unconnected with the peculiarfaculty of the mind, whose presence is essential to their being. 

Christianity was intended to reform the world: had an all-wise Beingplanned it, nothing is more improbable than that it should have failed:omniscience would infallibly have foreseen the inutility of a schemewhich experience demonstrates, to this age, to have been utterlyunsuccessful. 

Christianity inculcates the necessity of supplicating the Deity. Prayermay be considered under two points of view;--as an endeavour to changethe intentions of God, or as a formal testimony of our obedience. Butthe former case supposes that the caprices of a limited intelligence canoccasionally instruct the Creator of the world how to regulate theuniverse; and the latter, a certain degree of servility analogous to theloyalty demanded by earthly tyrants. Obedience indeed is only thepitiful and cowardly egotism of him who thinks that he can do somethingbetter than reason. 

Christianity, like all other religions, rests upon miracles, prophecies, and martyrdoms. No religion ever existed which had not its prophets, itsattested miracles, and, above all, crowds of devotees who would bearpatiently the most horrible tortures to prove its authenticity. Itshould appear that in no case can a discriminating mind subscribe to thegenuineness of a miracle. A miracle is an infraction of nature's law, bya supernatural cause; by a cause acting beyond that eternal circlewithin which all things are included. God breaks through the law ofnature, that He may convince mankind of the truth of that revelationwhich, in spite of His precautions, has been, since its introduction, the subject of unceasing schism and cavil. 

Miracles resolve themselves into the following question (See Hume'sEssay, volume 2 page 121. ):--Whether it is more probable the laws ofnature, hitherto so immutably harmonious, should have undergoneviolation, or that a man should have told a lie? Whether it is moreprobable that we are ignorant of the natural cause of an event, or thatwe know the supernatural one? That, in old times, when the powers ofnature were less known than at present, a certain set of men werethemselves deceived, or had some hidden motive for deceiving others; orthat God begat a Son, who, in His legislation, measuring merit bybelief, evidenced Himself to be totally ignorant of the powers of thehuman mind--of what is voluntary, and what is the contrary?

We have many instances of men telling lies;--none of an infraction ofnature's laws, those laws of whose government alone we have anyknowledge or experience. The records of all nations afford innumerableinstances of men deceiving others either from vanity or interest, orthemselves being deceived by the limitedness of their views and theirignorance of natural causes: but where is the accredited case of Godhaving come upon earth, to give the lie to His own creations? Therewould be something truly wonderful in the appearance of a ghost; but theassertion of a child that he saw one as he passed through the churchyardis universally admitted to be less miraculous. 

But even supposing that a man should raise a dead body to life beforeour eyes, and on this fact rest his claim to being considered the son ofGod;--the Humane Society restores drowned persons, and because it makesno mystery of the method it employs, its members are not mistaken forthe sons of God. All that we have a right to infer from our ignorance ofthe cause of any event is that we do not know it: had the Mexicansattended to this simple rule when they heard the cannon of theSpaniards, they would not have considered them as gods: the experimentsof modern chemistry would have defied the wisest philosophers of ancientGreece and Rome to have accounted for them on natural principles. Anauthor of strong common sense has observed that 'a miracle is no miracleat second-hand'; he might have added that a miracle is no miracle in anycase; for until we are acquainted with all natural causes, we have noreason to imagine others. 

There remains to be considered another proof of Christianity--Prophecy. A book is written before a certain event, in which this event isforetold; how could the prophet have foreknown it without inspiration?how could he have been inspired without God? The greatest stress is laidon the prophecies of Moses and Hosea on the dispersion of the Jews, andthat of Isaiah concerning the coming of the Messiah. The prophecy ofMoses is a collection of every possible cursing and blessing; and it isso far from being marvellous that the one of dispersion should have beenfulfilled, that it would have been more surprising if, out of all these, none should have taken effect. In Deuteronomy, chapter 28, verse 64, where Moses explicitly foretells the dispersion, he states that theyshall there serve gods of wood and stone: 'And the Lord shall scatterthee among all people, from the one end of the earth even to the other;AND THERE THOU SHALT SERVE OTHER GODS, WHICH NEITHER THOU NOR THYFATHERS HAVE KNOWN, EVEN GODS OF WOOD AND STONE. ' The Jews are at thisday remarkably tenacious of their religion. Moses also declares thatthey shall be subjected to these curses for disobedience to his ritual:'And it shall come to pass, if thou wilt not hearken unto the voice ofthe Lord thy God, to observe to do all the commandments and statuteswhich I command thee this day; that all these curses shall come uponthee, and overtake thee. ' Is this the real reason? The third, fourth, and fifth chapters of Hosea are a piece of immodest confession. Theindelicate type might apply in a hundred senses to a hundred things. Thefifty-third chapter of Isaiah is more explicit, yet it does not exceedin clearness the oracles of Delphos. The historical proof that Moses, Isaiah, and Hosea did write when they are said to have written is farfrom being clear and circumstantial. 

But prophecy requires proof in its character as a miracle; we have noright to suppose that a man foreknew future events from God, until it isdemonstrated that he neither could know them by his own exertions, northat the writings which contain the prediction could possibly have beenfabricated after the event pretended to be foretold. It is more probablethat writings, pretending to divine inspiration, should have beenfabricated after the fulfilment of their pretended prediction than thatthey should have really been divinely inspired, when we consider thatthe latter supposition makes God at once the creator of the human mindand ignorant of its primary powers, particularly as we have numberlessinstances of false religions, and forged prophecies of things long past, and no accredited case of God having conversed with men directly orindirectly. It is also possible that the description of an event mighthave foregone its occurrence; but this is far from being a legitimateproof of a divine revelation, as many men, not pretending to thecharacter of a prophet, have nevertheless, in this sense, prophesied. 

Lord Chesterfield was never yet taken for a prophet, even by a bishop, yet he uttered this remarkable prediction: 'The despotic government ofFrance is screwed up to the highest pitch; a revolution is fastapproaching; that revolution, I am convinced, will be radical andsanguinary. ' This appeared in the letters of the prophet long before theaccomplishment of this wonderful prediction. Now, have these particularscome to pass, or have they not? If they have, how could the Earl haveforeknown them without inspiration? If we admit the truth of theChristian religion on testimony such as this, we must admit, on the samestrength of evidence, that God has affixed the highest rewards tobelief, and the eternal tortures of the never-dying worm to disbelief, both of which have been demonstrated to be involuntary. 

The last proof of the Christian religion depends on the influence of theHoly Ghost. Theologians divide the influence of the Holy Ghost into itsordinary and extraordinary modes of operation. The latter is supposed tobe that which inspired the Prophets and Apostles; and the former to bethe grace of God, which summarily makes known the truth of Hisrevelation to those whose mind is fitted for its reception by asubmissive perusal of His word. Persons convinced in this manner can doanything but account for their conviction, describe the time at which ithappened, or the manner in which it came upon them. It is supposed toenter the mind by other channels than those of the senses, and thereforeprofesses to be superior to reason founded on their experience. 

Admitting, however, the usefulness or possibility of a divinerevelation, unless we demolish the foundations of all human knowledge, it is requisite that our reason should previously demonstrate itsgenuineness; for, before we extinguish the steady ray of reason andcommon sense, it is fit that we should discover whether we cannot dowithout their assistance, whether or no there be any other which maysuffice to guide us through the labyrinth of life (See Locke's "Essay onthe Human Understanding", book 4 chapter 19, on Enthusiasm. ): for, if aman is to be inspired upon all occasions, if he is to be sure of a thingbecause he is sure, if the ordinary operations of the Spirit are not tobe considered very extraordinary modes of demonstration, if enthusiasmis to usurp the place of proof, and madness that of sanity, allreasoning is superfluous. The Mahometan dies fighting for his prophet, the Indian immolates himself at the chariot-wheels of Brahma, theHottentot worships an insect, the Negro a bunch of feathers, the Mexicansacrifices human victims! Their degree of conviction must certainly bevery strong: it cannot arise from reasoning, it must from feelings, thereward of their prayers. If each of these should affirm, in oppositionto the strongest possible arguments, that inspiration carried internalevidence, I fear their inspired brethren, the orthodox missionaries, would be so uncharitable as to pronounce them obstinate. 

Miracles cannot be received as testimonies of a disputed fact, becauseall human testimony has ever been insufficient to establish thepossibility of miracles. That which is incapable of proof itself is noproof of anything else. Prophecy has also been rejected by the test ofreason. Those, then, who have been actually inspired are the only truebelievers in the Christian religion. 

Mox numine visoVirgineei tumuere sinus, innuptaque materArcano stupuit compleri viscera partu, Auctorem paritura suum. Mortalia cordaArtificem texere poli, latuitque sub unoPectore, qui totum late complectitur orbem. --Claudian, "Carmen Paschale". 

Does not so monstrous and disgusting an absurdity carry its own infamyand refutation with itself?

8. 203-207:--

Him, still from hope to hope the bliss pursuingWhich from the exhaustless lore of human wealDraws on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that riseIn time-destroying infiniteness, giftWith self-enshrined eternity, etc. 

Time is our consciousness of the succession of ideas in our mind. Vividsensation, of either pain or pleasure, makes the time seem long, as thecommon phrase is, because it renders us more acutely conscious of ourideas. If a mind be conscious of an hundred ideas during one minute, bythe clock, and of two hundred during another, the latter of these spaceswould actually occupy so much greater extent in the mind as two exceedone in quantity. If, therefore, the human mind, by any futureimprovement of its sensibility, should become conscious of an infinitenumber of ideas in a minute, that minute would be eternity. I do nothence infer that the actual space between the birth and death of a manwill ever be prolonged; but that his sensibility is perfectible, andthat the number of ideas which his mind is capable of receiving isindefinite. One man is stretched on the rack during twelve hours;another sleeps soundly in his bed: the difference of time perceived bythese two persons is immense; one hardly will believe that half an hourhas elapsed, the other could credit that centuries had flown during hisagony. Thus, the life of a man of virtue and talent, who should die inhis thirtieth year, is, with regard to his own feelings, longer thanthat of a miserable priest-ridden slave, who dreams out a century ofdulness. The one has perpetually cultivated his mental faculties, hasrendered himself master of his thoughts, can abstract and generalizeamid the lethargy of every-day business;--the other can slumber over thebrightest moments of his being, and is unable to remember the happiesthour of his life. Perhaps the perishing ephemeron enjoys a longer lifethan the tortoise. 

Dark flood of time!Roll as it listeth thee--I measure notBy months or moments thy ambiguous course. Another may stand by me on the brinkAnd watch the bubble whirled beyond his kenThat pauses at my feet. The sense of love, The thirst for action, and the impassioned thoughtProlong my being: if I wake no more, My life more actual living will containThan some gray veteran's of the world's cold school, Whose listless hours unprofitably roll, By one enthusiast feeling unredeemed. --

See Godwin's "Pol. Jus. " volume 1, page 411; and Condorcet, "Esquissed'un Tableau Historique des Progres de l'Esprit Humain", epoque 9. 

8. 211, 212:--

No longer nowHe slays the lamb that looks him in the face. 

I hold that the depravity of the physical and moral nature of manoriginated in his unnatural habits of life. The origin of man, like thatof the universe of which he is a part, is enveloped in impenetrablemystery. His generations either had a beginning, or they had not. Theweight of evidence in favour of each of these suppositions seemstolerably equal; and it is perfectly unimportant to the present argumentwhich is assumed. The language spoken, however, by the mythology ofnearly all religions seems to prove that at some distant period manforsook the path of nature, and sacrificed the purity and happiness ofhis being to unnatural appetites. The date of this event seems to havealso been that of some great change in the climates of the earth, withwhich it has an obvious correspondence. The allegory of Adam and Eveeating of the tree of evil, and entailing upon their posterity the wrathof God and the loss of everlasting life, admits of no other explanationthan the disease and crime that have flowed from unnatural diet. Miltonwas so well aware of this that he makes Raphael thus exhibit to Adam theconsequence of his disobedience:--

Immediately a placeBefore his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark;A lazar-house it seemed; wherein were laidNumbers of all diseased--all maladiesOf ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualmsOf heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, Dropsies and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. 

And how many thousands more might not be added to this frightful catalogue!

The story of Prometheus is one likewise which, although universallyadmitted to be allegorical, has never been satisfactorily explained. Prometheus stole fire from heaven, and was chained for this crime toMount Caucasus, where a vulture continually devoured his liver, thatgrew to meet its hunger. Hesiod says that, before the time ofPrometheus, mankind were exempt from suffering; that they enjoyed avigorous youth, and that death, when at length it came, approached likesleep, and gently closed their eyes. Again, so general was this opinionthat Horace, a poet of the Augustan age, writes:--

Audax omnia perpeti, Gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas;Audax Iapeti genusIgnem fraude mala gentibus intulit:Post ignem aetheria domoSubductum, macies et nova febriumTerris incubuit cohors, Semotique prius tarda necessitasLethi corripuit gradum. 

How plain a language is spoken by all this! Prometheus (who representsthe human race) effected some great change in the condition of hisnature, and applied fire to culinary purposes; thus inventing anexpedient for screening from his disgust the horrors of the shambles. From this moment his vitals were devoured by the vulture of disease. Itconsumed his being in every shape of its loathsome and infinite variety, inducing the soul-quelling sinkings of premature and violent death. Allvice rose from the ruin of healthful innocence. Tyranny, superstition, commerce, and inequality were then first known, when reason vainlyattempted to guide the wanderings of exacerbated passion. I concludethis part of the subject with an extract from Mr. Newton's "Defence ofVegetable Regimen", from whom I have borrowed this interpretation of thefable of Prometheus. 

'Making allowance for such transposition of the events of the allegoryas time might produce after the important truths were forgotten, whichthis portion of the ancient mythology was intended to transmit, thedrift of the fable seems to be this:--Man at his creation was endowedwith the gift of perpetual youth; that is, he was not formed to be asickly suffering creature as we now see him, but to enjoy health, and tosink by slow degrees into the bosom of his parent earth without diseaseor pain. Prometheus first taught the use of animal food (primus bovemoccidit Prometheus (Plin. "Nat. Hist". Lib. 7 sect. 57. )) and of fire, with which to render it more digestible and pleasing to the taste. Jupiter, and the rest of the gods, foreseeing the consequences of theseinventions, were amused or irritated at the short-sighted devices of thenewly-formed creature, and left him to experience the sad effects ofthem. Thirst, the necessary concomitant of a flesh diet' (perhaps of alldiet vitiated by culinary preparation), 'ensued; water was resorted to, and man forfeited the inestimable gift of health which he had receivedfrom heaven: he became diseased, the partaker of a precarious existence, and no longer descended slowly to his grave. ("Return to Nature". Cadell, 1811. )

But just disease to luxury succeeds, And every death its own avenger breeds;The fury passions from that blood began, And turned on man a fiercer savage--man. 

Man, and the animals whom he has infected with his society, or depravedby his dominion, are alone diseased. The wild hog, the mouflon, thebison, and the wolf; are perfectly exempt from malady, and invariablydie either from external violence or natural old age. But the domestichog, the sheep, the cow, and the dog, are subject to an incrediblevariety of distempers; and, like the corruptors of their nature, havephysicians who thrive upon their miseries. The supereminence of man islike Satan's, a supereminence of pain; and the majority of his species, doomed to penury, disease, and crime, have reason to curse the untowardevent that, by enabling him to communicate his sensations, raised himabove the level of his fellow-animals. But the steps that have beentaken are irrevocable. The whole of human science is comprised in onequestion:--How can the advantages of intellect and civilization bereconciled with the liberty and pure pleasures of natural life? How canwe take the benefits and reject the evils of the system, which is nowinterwoven with all the fibres of our being?--I believe that abstinencefrom animal food and spirituous liquors would in a great measurecapacitate us for the solution of this important question. 

It is true that mental and bodily derangement is attributable in part toother deviations from rectitude and nature than those which concerndiet. The mistakes cherished by society respecting the connection of thesexes, whence the misery and diseases of unsatisfied celibacy, unenjoying prostitution, and the premature arrival of puberty, necessarily spring; the putrid atmosphere of crowded cities; theexhalations of chemical processes; the muffling of our bodies insuperfluous apparel; the absurd treatment of infants:--all these andinnumerable other causes contribute their mite to the mass of humanevil. 

Comparative anatomy teaches us that man resembles frugivorous animals ineverything, and carnivorous in nothing; he has neither claws wherewithto seize his prey, nor distinct and pointed teeth to tear the livingfibre. A Mandarin of the first class, with nails two inches long, wouldprobably find them alone inefficient to hold even a hare. After everysubterfuge of gluttony, the bull must be degraded into the ox, and theram into the wether, by an unnatural and inhuman operation, that theflaccid fibre may offer a fainter resistance to rebellious nature. It isonly by softening and disguising dead flesh by culinary preparation thatit is rendered susceptible of mastication or digestion; and that thesight of its bloody juices and raw horror does not excite intolerableloathing and disgust. Let the advocate of animal food force himself to adecisive experiment on its fitness, and, as Plutarch recommends, tear aliving lamb with his teeth, and plunging his head into its vitals slakehis thirst with the steaming blood; when fresh from the deed of horror, let him revert to the irresistible instincts of nature that would risein judgement against it, and say, 'Nature formed me for such work asthis. ' Then, and then only, would he be consistent. 

Man resembles no carnivorous animal. There is no exception, unless manbe one, to the rule of herbivorous animals having cellulated colons. 

The orang-outang perfectly resembles man both in the order and number ofhis teeth. The orang-outang is the most anthropomorphous of the apetribe, all of which are strictly frugivorous. There is no other speciesof animals, which live on different food, in which this analogy exists. (Cuvier, "Lecons d'Anat. Comp". Tom. 3, pages 169, 373, 448, 465, 480. Rees's "Cyclopaedia", article Man. ) In many frugivorous animals, thecanine teeth are more pointed and distinct than those of man. Theresemblance also of the human stomach to that of the orang-outang isgreater than to that of any other animal. 

The intestines are also identical with those of herbivorous animals, which present a larger surface for absorption and have ample andcellulated colons. The caecum also, though short, is larger than that ofcarnivorous animals; and even here the orang-outang retains itsaccustomed similarity. 

The structure of the human frame, then, is that of one fitted to a purevegetable diet, in every essential particular. It is true that thereluctance to abstain from animal food, in those who have been longaccustomed to its stimulus, is so great in some persons of weak minds asto be scarcely overcome; but this is far from bringing any argument inits favour. A lamb, which was fed for some time on flesh by a ship'screw, refused its natural diet at the end of the voyage. There arenumerous instances of horses, sheep, oxen, and even wood-pigeons, havingbeen taught to live upon flesh, until they have loathed their naturalaliment. Young children evidently prefer pastry, oranges, apples, andother fruit, to the flesh of animals; until, by the gradual depravationof the digestive organs, the free use of vegetables has for a timeproduced serious inconveniences; FOR A TIME, I say, since there neverwas an instance wherein a change from spirituous liquors and animal foodto vegetables and pure water has failed ultimately to invigorate thebody, by rendering its juices bland and consentaneous, and to restore tothe mind that cheerfulness and elasticity which not one in fiftypossesses on the present system. A love of strong liquors is also withdifficulty taught to infants. Almost every one remembers the wry faceswhich the first glass of port produced. Unsophisticated instinct isinvariably unerring; but to decide on the fitness of animal food fromthe perverted appetites which its constrained adoption produces; is tomake the criminal a judge in his own cause: it is even worse, it isappealing to the infatuated drunkard in a question of the salubrity ofbrandy. 

What is the cause of morbid action in the animal system? Not the air webreathe, for our fellow-denizens of nature breathe the same uninjured;not the water we drink (if remote from the pollutions of man and hisinventions (The necessity of resorting to some means of purifying water, and the disease which arises from its adulteration in civilizedcountries, is sufficiently apparent. See Dr. Lambe's "Reports onCancer". I do not assert that the use of water is in itself unnatural, but that the unperverted palate would swallow no liquid capable ofoccasioning disease. )), for the animals drink it too; not the earth wetread upon; not the unobscured sight of glorious nature, in the wood, the field, or the expanse of sky and ocean; nothing that we are or do incommon with the undiseased inhabitants of the forest. Something, then, wherein we differ from them: our habit of altering our food by fire, sothat our appetite is no longer a just criterion for the fitness of itsgratification. Except in children, there remain no traces of thatinstinct which determines, in all other animals, what aliment is naturalor otherwise; and so perfectly obliterated are they in the reasoningadults of our species, that it has become necessary to urgeconsiderations drawn from comparative anatomy to prove that we arenaturally frugivorous. 

Crime is madness. Madness is disease. Whenever the cause of diseaseshall be discovered, the root, from which all vice and misery have solong overshadowed the globe, will lie bare to the axe. All the exertionsof man, from that moment, may be considered as tending to the clearprofit of his species. No sane mind in a sane body resolves upon a realcrime. It is a man of violent passions, bloodshot eyes, and swollenveins, that alone can grasp the knife of murder. The system of a simplediet promises no Utopian advantages. It is no mere reform oflegislation, whilst the furious passions and evil propensities of thehuman heart, in which it had its origin, are still unassuaged. Itstrikes at the root of all evil, and is an experiment which may be triedwith success, not alone by nations, but by small societies, families, and even individuals. In no cases has a return to vegetable dietproduced the slightest injury; in most it has been attended with changesundeniably beneficial. Should ever a physician be born with the geniusof Locke, I am persuaded that he might trace all bodily and mentalderangements to our unnatural habits, as clearly as that philosopher hastraced all knowledge to sensation. What prolific sources of disease arenot those mineral and vegetable poisons that have been introduced forits extirpation! How many thousands have become murderers and robbers, bigots and domestic tyrants, dissolute and abandoned adventurers, fromthe use of fermented liquors; who, had they slaked their thirst onlywith pure water, would have lived but to diffuse the happiness of theirown unperverted feelings! How many groundless opinions and absurdinstitutions have not received a general sanction from the sottishnessand intemperance of individuals! Who will assert that, had the populaceof Paris satisfied their hunger at the ever-furnished table of vegetablenature, they would have lent their brutal suffrage to theproscription-list of Robespierre? Could a set of men, whose passionswere not perverted by unnatural stimuli, look with coolness on an autoda fe? Is it to be believed that a being of gentle feelings, rising fromhis meal of roots, would take delight in sports of blood? Was Nero a manof temperate life? could you read calm health in his cheek, flushed withungovernable propensities of hatred for the human race? Did MuleyIsmael's pulse beat evenly, was his skin transparent, did his eyes beamwith healthfulness, and its invariable concomitants, cheerfulness andbenignity? Though history has decided none of these questions, a childcould not hesitate to answer in the negative. Surely the bile-suffusedcheek of Buonaparte, his wrinkled brow, and yellow eye, the ceaselessinquietude of his nervous system, speak no less plainly the character ofhis unresting ambition than his murders and his victories. It isimpossible, had Buonaparte descended from a race of vegetable feeders, that he could have had either the inclination or the power to ascend thethrone of the Bourbons. The desire of tyranny could scarcely be excitedin the individual, the power to tyrannize would certainly not bedelegated by a society neither frenzied by inebriation nor renderedimpotent and irrational by disease. Pregnant indeed with inexhaustiblecalamity is the renunciation of instinct, as it concerns our physicalnature; arithmetic cannot enumerate, nor reason perhaps suspect, themultitudinous sources of disease in civilized life. Even common water, that apparently innoxious pabulum, when corrupted by the filth ofpopulous cities, is a deadly and insidious destroyer. (Lambe's "Reportson Cancer". ) Who can wonder that all the inducements held out by GodHimself in the Bible to virtue should have been vainer than a nurse'stale; and that those dogmas, by which He has there excited and justifiedthe most ferocious propensities, should have alone been deemedessential; whilst Christians are in the daily practice of all thosehabits which have infected with disease and crime, not only thereprobate sons, but those favoured children of the common Father's love?Omnipotence itself could not save them from the consequences of thisoriginal and universal sin. 

There is no disease, bodily or mental, which adoption of vegetable dietand pure water has not infallibly mitigated, wherever the experiment hasbeen fairly tried. Debility is gradually converted into strength;disease into healthfulness; madness, in all its hideous variety, fromthe ravings of the fettered maniac to the unaccountable irrationalitiesof ill-temper, that make a hell of domestic life, into a calm andconsiderate evenness of temper, that alone might offer a certain pledgeof the future moral reformation of society. On a natural system of diet, old age would be our last and our only malady; the term of our existencewould be protracted; we should enjoy life, and no longer preclude othersfrom the enjoyment of it; all sensational delights would be infinitelymore exquisite and perfect; the very sense of being would then be acontinued pleasure, such as we now feel it in some few and favouredmoments of our youth. By all that is sacred in our hopes for the humanrace, I conjure those who love happiness and truth to give a fair trialto the vegetable system. Reasoning is surely superfluous on a subjectwhose merits an experience of six months would set for ever at rest. Butit is only among the enlightened and benevolent that so great asacrifice of appetite and prejudice can be expected, even though itsultimate excellence should not admit of dispute. It is found easier, bythe short-sighted victims of disease, to palliate their torments bymedicine than to prevent them by regimen. The vulgar of all ranks areinvariably sensual and indocile; yet I cannot but feel myself persuadedthat when the benefits of vegetable diet are mathematically proved, whenit is as clear that those who live naturally are exempt from prematuredeath as that nine is not one, the most sottish of mankind will feel apreference towards a long and tranquil, contrasted with a short andpainful, life. On the average, out of sixty persons four die in threeyears. Hopes are entertained that, in April, 1814, a statement will begiven that sixty persons, all having lived more than three years onvegetables and pure water, are then IN PERFECT HEALTH. More than twoyears have now elapsed; NOT ONE OF THEM HAS DIED; no such example willbe found in any sixty persons taken at random. Seventeen persons of allages (the families of Dr. Lambe and Mr. Newton) have lived for sevenyears on this diet without a death, and almost without the slightestillness. Surely, when we consider that some of those were infants, andone a martyr to asthma now nearly subdued, we may challenge anyseventeen persons taken at random in this city to exhibit a parallelcase. Those who may have been excited to question the rectitude ofestablished habits of diet by these loose remarks, should consult Mr. Newton's luminous and eloquent essay. ("Return to Nature, or Defence ofVegetable Regimen". Cadell, 1811. )

When these proofs come fairly before the world, and are clearly seen byall who understand arithmetic, it is scarcely possible that abstinencefrom aliments demonstrably pernicious should not become universal. Inproportion to the number of proselytes, so will be the weight ofevidence; and when a thousand persons can be produced, living onvegetables and distilled water, who have to dread no disease but oldage, the world will be compelled to regard animal flesh and fermentedliquors as slow but certain poisons. The change which would be producedby simpler habits on political economy is sufficiently remarkable. Themonopolizing eater of animal flesh would no longer destroy hisconstitution by devouring an acre at a meal, and many loaves of breadwould cease to contribute to gout, madness and apoplexy, in the shape ofa pint of porter, or a dram of gin, when appeasing the long-protractedfamine of the hardworking peasant's hungry babes. The quantity ofnutritious vegetable matter, consumed in fattening the carcase of an ox, would afford ten times the sustenance, undepraving indeed, and incapableof generating disease, if gathered immediately from the bosom of theearth. The most fertile districts of the habitable globe are nowactually cultivated by men for animals, at a delay and waste of alimentabsolutely incapable of calculation. It is only the wealthy that can, toany great degree, even now, indulge the unnatural craving for deadflesh, and they pay for the greater licence of the privilege bysubjection to supernumerary diseases. Again, the spirit of the nationthat should take the lead in this great reform would insensibly becomeagricultural; commerce, with all its vice, selfishness, and corruption, would gradually decline; more natural habits would produce gentlermanners, and the excessive complication of political relations would beso far simplified that every individual might feel and understand why heloved his country, and took a personal interest in its welfare. Howwould England, for example, depend on the caprices of foreign rulers ifshe contained within herself all the necessaries, and despised whateverthey possessed of the luxuries, of life? How could they starve her intocompliance with their views? Of what consequence would it be that theyrefused to take her woollen manufactures, when large and fertile tractsof the island ceased to be allotted to the waste of pasturage? On anatural system of diet we should require no spices from India; no winesfrom Portugal, Spain, France, or Madeira; none of those multitudinousarticles of luxury, for which every corner of the globe is rifled, andwhich are the causes of so much individual rivalship, such calamitousand sanguinary national disputes. In the history of modern times, theavarice of commercial monopoly, no less than the ambition of weak andwicked chiefs, seems to have fomented the universal discord, to haveadded stubbornness to the mistakes of cabinets, and indocility to theinfatuation of the people. Let it ever be remembered that it is thedirect influence of commerce to make the interval between the richestand the poorest man wider and more unconquerable. Let it be rememberedthat it is a foe to everything of real worth and excellence in the humancharacter. The odious and disgusting aristocracy of wealth is built uponthe ruins of all that is good in chivalry or republicanism; and luxuryis the forerunner of a barbarism scarce capable of cure. Is itimpossible to realize a state of society, where all the energies of manshall be directed to the production of his solid happiness? Certainly, if this advantage (the object of all political speculation) be in anydegree attainable, it is attainable only by a community which holds outno factitious incentives to the avarice and ambition of the few, andwhich is internally organized for the liberty, security, and comfort ofthe many. None must be entrusted with power (and money is the completestspecies of power) who do not stand pledged to use it exclusively for thegeneral benefit. But the use of animal flesh and fermented liquorsdirectly militates with this equality of the rights of man. The peasantcannot gratify these fashionable cravings without leaving his family tostarve. Without disease and war, those sweeping curtailers ofpopulation, pasturage would include a waste too great to be afforded. The labour requisite to support a family is far lighter' than is usuallysupposed. (It has come under the author's experience that some of theworkmen on an embankment in North Wales, who, in consequence of theinability of the proprietor to pay them, seldom received their wages, have supported large families by cultivating small spots of sterileground by moonlight. In the notes to Pratt's poem, "Bread, or the Poor", is an account of an industrious labourer who, by working in a smallgarden, before and after his day's task, attained to an enviable stateof independence. ) The peasantry work, not only for themselves, but forthe aristocracy, the army, and the manufacturers. 

The advantage of a reform in diet is obviously greater than that of anyother. It strikes at the root of the evil. To remedy the abuses oflegislation, before we annihilate the propensities by which they areproduced, is to suppose that by taking away the effect the cause willcease to operate. But the efficacy of this system depends entirely onthe proselytism of individuals, and grounds its merits, as a benefit tothe community, upon the total change of the dietetic habits in itsmembers. It proceeds securely from a number of particular cases to onethat is universal, and has this advantage over the contrary mode, thatone error does not invalidate all that has gone before. 

Let not too much, however, be expected from this system. The healthiestamong us is not exempt from hereditary disease. The most symmetrical, athletic, and longlived is a being inexpressibly inferior to what hewould have been, had not the unnatural habits of his ancestorsaccumulated for him a certain portion of malady and deformity. In themost perfect specimen of civilized man, something is still found wantingby the physiological critic. Can a return to nature, then, instantaneously eradicate predispositions that have been slowly takingroot in the silence of innumerable ages?--Indubitably not. All that Icontend for is, that from the moment of the relinquishing all unnaturalhabits no new disease is generated; and that the predisposition tohereditary maladies gradually perishes, for want of its accustomedsupply. In cases of consumption, cancer, gout, asthma, and scrofula, such is the invariable tendency of a diet of vegetables and pure water. 

Those who may be induced by these remarks to give the vegetable system afair trial, should, in the first place, date the commencement of theirpractice from the moment of their conviction. All depends upon breakingthrough a pernicious habit resolutely and at once. Dr. Trotter assertsthat no drunkard was ever reformed by gradually relinquishing his dram. (See Trotter on the Nervous Temperament. ) Animal flesh, in its effectson the human stomach, is analogous to a dram. It is similar in the kind, though differing in the degree, of its operation. The proselyte to apure diet must be warned to expect a temporary diminution of muscularstrength. The subtraction of a powerful stimulus will suffice to accountfor this event. But it is only temporary, and is succeeded by an equablecapability for exertion, far surpassing his former various andfluctuating strength. Above all, he will acquire an easiness ofbreathing, by which such exertion is performed, with a remarkableexemption from that painful and difficult panting now felt by almostevery one after hastily climbing an ordinary mountain. He will beequally capable of bodily exertion, or mental application, after asbefore his simple meal. He will feel none of the narcotic effects ofordinary diet. Irritability, the direct consequence of exhaustingstimuli, would yield to the power of natural and tranquil impulses. Hewill no longer pine under the lethargy of ennui, that unconquerableweariness of life, more to be dreaded than death itself. He will escapethe epidemic madness, which broods over its own injurious notions of theDeity, and 'realizes the hell that priests and beldams feign. ' Every manforms, as it were, his god from his own character; to the divinity ofone of simple habits no offering would be more acceptable than thehappiness of his creatures. He would be incapable of hating orpersecuting others for the love of God. He will find, moreover, a systemof simple diet to be a system of perfect epicurism. He will no longer beincessantly occupied in blunting and destroying those organs from whichhe expects his gratification. The pleasures of taste to be derived froma dinner of potatoes, beans, peas, turnips, lettuces, with a dessert ofapples, gooseberries, strawberries, currants, raspberries, and inwinter, oranges, apples and pears, is far greater than is supposed. These who wait until they can eat this plain fare with the sauce ofappetite will scarcely join with the hypocritical sensualist at alord-mayor's feast, who declaims against the pleasures of the table. Solomon kept a thousand concubines, and owned in despair that all wasvanity. The man whose happiness is constituted by the society of oneamiable woman would find some difficulty in sympathizing with thedisappointment of this venerable debauchee. 

I address myself not only to the young enthusiast, the ardent devotee oftruth and virtue, the pure and passionate moralist, yet unvitiated bythe contagion of the world. He will embrace a pure system, from itsabstract truth, its beauty, its simplicity, and its promise ofwide-extended benefit; unless custom has turned poison into food, hewill hate the brutal pleasures of the chase by instinct; it will be acontemplation full of horror, and disappointment to his mind, thatbeings capable of the gentlest and most admirable sympathies should takedelight in the death-pangs and last convulsions of dying animals. Theelderly man, whose youth has been poisoned by intemperance, or who haslived with apparent moderation, and is afflicted with a wide variety ofpainful maladies, would find his account in a beneficial change producedwithout the risk of poisonous medicines. The mother, to whom theperpetual restlessness of disease and unaccountable deaths incident toher children are the causes of incurable unhappiness, would on this dietexperience the satisfaction of beholding their perpetual healths andnatural playfulness. (See Mr. Newton's book. His children are the mostbeautiful and healthy creatures it is possible to conceive; the girlsare perfect models for a sculptor; their dispositions are also the mostgentle and conciliating; the judicious treatment, which they experiencein other points, may be a correlative cause of this. In the first fiveyears of their life, of 18, 000 children that are born, 7, 500 die ofvarious diseases; and how many more of those that survive are notrendered miserable by maladies not immediately mortal? The quality andquantity of a woman's milk are materially injured by the use of deadflesh. In an island near Iceland, where no vegetables are to be got, thechildren invariably die of tetanus before they are three weeks old, andthe population is supplied from the mainland. --Sir G. Mackenzie's"History of Iceland". See also "Emile", chapter 1, pages 53, 54, 56. )The most valuable lives are daily destroyed by diseases that it isdangerous to palliate and impossible to cure by medicine. How muchlonger will man continue to pimp for the gluttony of Death, his mostinsidious, implacable, and eternal foe?

Alla drakontas agrious kaleite kai pardaleis kai leontas, autoi demiaiphoneite eis omoteta katalipontes ekeinois ouden ekeinois men gar ophonos trophe, umin de opson estin... "Oti gar ouk estin anthropo kataphusin to sarkophagein, proton men apo ton somaton deloutai teskataskeues. Oudeni gar eoike to anthropou soma ton epi sarkophagiagegonoton, ou grupotes cheilous, ouk ozutes onuchos, ou traxutes odontosprosestin, ou koilias eutonia kai pneumatos thermotes, trepsai kaikatergasasthai dunate to baru kai kreodes all autothen e phusis teleioteti ton odonton kai te smikroteti tou stomatos kai te malakotetites glosses kai te pros pepsin ambluteti tou pneumatos, exomnutai tensarkophagian. Ei de legeis pephukenai seauton epi toiauten edoden, oboulei phagein proton autos apokteinon, all autos dia seauton, mechesamenos kopidi mede tumpano tini mede pelekei alla, os lukoi kaiarktoi kai leontes autoi osa esthiousi phoneuousin, anele degmati boun estomati sun, e apna e lagoon diarrexon kai phage prospeson eti zontos, os ekeina... Emeis d' outos en to miaiphono truphomen, ost ochon to kreasprosagoreuomen, eit ochon pros auto to kreas deometha, anamignunteselaion oinon meli garon oxos edusmasi Suriakois Arabikois, oster ontosnekron entaphiazontes. Kai gar outos auton dialuthenton kaimelachthenton kai tropon tina prosapenton ergon esti ten pechinkratesai, kai diakratepheises de deinas barutetas empoiei kai nosodeisapechias... Outo to proton agprion ti zoon ebrothe kai kakourgon, eitornis tis e ichthus eilkusto kai geusamenon outo kai promeletesan enekeinois to thonikon epi boun ergaten elthe kai to kosmion probaton kaiton oikouron alektruona kai kata mikron outo ten aplestian stomosantesepi sphagas anthropon kai polemous kai phonous proelthon. --Plout. Perites Sarkophagias. 

***

NOTE ON QUEEN MAB, BY MRS. SHELLEY. 

Shelley was eighteen when he wrote "Queen Mab"; he never published it. When it was written, he had come to the decision that he was too youngto be a 'judge of controversies'; and he was desirous of acquiring 'thatsobriety of spirit which is the characteristic of true heroism. ' But henever doubted the truth or utility of his opinions; and, in printing andprivately distributing "Queen Mab", he believed that he should furthertheir dissemination, without occasioning the mischief either to othersor himself that might arise from publication. It is doubtful whether hewould himself have admitted it into a collection of his works. Hissevere classical taste, refined by the constant study of the Greekpoets, might have discovered defects that escape the ordinary reader;and the change his opinions underwent in many points would haveprevented him from putting forth the speculations of his boyish days. But the poem is too beautiful in itself, and far too remarkable as theproduction of a boy of eighteen, to allow of its being passed over:besides that, having been frequently reprinted, the omission would bevain. In the former edition certain portions were left out, as shockingthe general reader from the violence of their attack on religion. Imyself had a painful feeling that such erasures might be looked upon asa mark of disrespect towards the author, and am glad to have theopportunity of restoring them. The notes also are reprinted entire--notbecause they are models of reasoning or lessons of truth, but becauseShelley wrote them, and that all that a man at once so distinguished andso excellent ever did deserves to be preserved. The alterations hisopinions underwent ought to be recorded, for they form his history. 

A series of articles was published in the "New Monthly Magazine" duringthe autumn of the year 1832, written by a man of great talent, afellow-collegian and warm friend of Shelley: they describe admirably thestate of his mind during his collegiate life. Inspired with ardour forthe acquisition of knowledge, endowed with the keenest sensibility andwith the fortitude of a martyr, Shelley came among his fellow-creatures, congregated for the purposes of education, like a spirit from anothersphere; too delicately organized for the rough treatment man usestowards man, especially in the season of youth, and too resolute incarrying out his own sense of good and justice, not to become a victim. To a devoted attachment to those he loved he added a determinedresistance to oppression. Refusing to fag at Eton, he was treated withrevolting cruelty by masters and boys: this roused instead of taming hisspirit, and he rejected the duty of obedience when it was enforced bymenaces and punishment. To aversion to the society of hisfellow-creatures, such as he found them when collected together insocieties, where one egged on the other to acts of tyranny, was joinedthe deepest sympathy and compassion; while the attachment he felt forindividuals, and the admiration with which he regarded their powers andtheir virtues, led him to entertain a high opinion of the perfectibilityof human nature; and he believed that all could reach the highest gradeof moral improvement, did not the customs and prejudices of societyfoster evil passions and excuse evil actions. 

The oppression which, trembling at every nerve yet resolute to heroism, it was his ill-fortune to encounter at school and at college, led him todissent in all things from those whose arguments were blows, whose faithappeared to engender blame and hatred. 'During my existence, ' he wroteto a friend in 1812, 'I have incessantly speculated, thought, and read. 'His readings were not always well chosen; among them were the works ofthe French philosophers: as far as metaphysical argument went, hetemporarily became a convert. At the same time, it was the cardinalarticle of his faith that, if men were but taught and induced to treattheir fellows with love, charity, and equal rights, this earth wouldrealize paradise. He looked upon religion, as it is professed, and aboveall practised, as hostile instead of friendly to the cultivation ofthose virtues which would make men brothers. 

Can this be wondered at? At the age of seventeen, fragile in health andframe, of the purest habits in morals, full of devoted generosity anduniversal kindness, glowing with ardour to attain wisdom, resolved atevery personal sacrifice to do right, burning with a desire foraffection and sympathy, --he was treated as a reprobate, cast forth as acriminal. 

The cause was that he was sincere; that he believed the opinions whichhe entertained to be true. And he loved truth with a martyr's love; hewas ready to sacrifice station and fortune, and his dearest affections, at its shrine. The sacrifice was demanded from, and made by, a youth ofseventeen. It is a singular fact in the history of society in thecivilized nations of modern times that no false step is so irretrievableas one made in early youth. Older men, it is true, when they opposetheir fellows and transgress ordinary rules, carry a certain prudence orhypocrisy as a shield along with them. But youth is rash; nor can itimagine, while asserting what it believes to be true, and doing what itbelieves to be right, that it should be denounced as vicious, andpursued as a criminal. 

Shelley possessed a quality of mind which experience has shown me to beof the rarest occurrence among human beings: this was his UNWORLDLINESS. The usual motives that rule men, prospects of present or futureadvantage, the rank and fortune of those around, the taunts andcensures, or the praise, of those who were hostile to him, had noinfluence whatever over his actions, and apparently none over histhoughts. It is difficult even to express the simplicity and directnessof purpose that adorned him. Some few might be found in the history ofmankind, and some one at least among his own friends, equallydisinterested and scornful, even to severe personal sacrifices, of everybaser motive. But no one, I believe, ever joined this noble but passivevirtue to equal active endeavours for the benefit of his friends andmankind in general, and to equal power to produce the advantages hedesired. The world's brightest gauds and its most solid advantages wereof no worth in his eyes, when compared to the cause of what heconsidered truth, and the good of his fellow-creatures. Born in aposition which, to his inexperienced mind, afforded the greatestfacilities to practise the tenets he espoused, he boldly declared theuse he would make of fortune and station, and enjoyed the belief that heshould materially benefit his fellow-creatures by his actions; while, conscious of surpassing powers of reason and imagination, it is notstrange that he should, even while so young, have believed that hiswritten thoughts would tend to disseminate opinions which he believedconducive to the happiness of the human race. 

If man were a creature devoid of passion, he might have said and doneall this with quietness. But he was too enthusiastic, and too full ofhatred of all the ills he witnessed, not to scorn danger. Variousdisappointments tortured, but could not tame, his soul. The more enmityhe met, the more earnestly he became attached to his peculiar views, andhostile to those of the men who persecuted him. 

He was animated to greater zeal by compassion for his fellow-creatures. His sympathy was excited by the misery with which the world is burning. He witnessed the sufferings of the poor, and was aware of the evils ofignorance. He desired to induce every rich man to despoil himself ofsuperfluity, and to create a brotherhood of property and service, andwas ready to be the first to lay down the advantages of his birth. Hewas of too uncompromising a disposition to join any party. He did not inhis youth look forward to gradual improvement: nay, in those days ofintolerance, now almost forgotten, it seemed as easy to look forward tothe sort of millennium of freedom and brotherhood which he thought theproper state of mankind as to the present reign of moderation andimprovement. Ill-health made him believe that his race would soon berun; that a year or two was all he had of life. He desired that theseyears should be useful and illustrious. He saw, in a fervent call on hisfellow-creatures to share alike the blessings of the creation, to loveand serve each other, the noblest work that life and time permitted him. In this spirit he composed "Queen Mab". 

He was a lover of the wonderful and wild in literature, but had notfostered these tastes at their genuine sources--the romances andchivalry of the middle ages--but in the perusal of such German works aswere current in those days. Under the influence of these he, at the ageof fifteen, wrote two short prose romances of slender merit. Thesentiments and language were exaggerated, the composition imitative andpoor. He wrote also a poem on the subject of Ahasuerus--being led to itby a German fragment he picked up, dirty and torn, in Lincoln's InnFields. This fell afterwards into other hands, and was considerablyaltered before it was printed. Our earlier English poetry was almostunknown to him. The love and knowledge of Nature developed byWordsworth--the lofty melody and mysterious beauty of Coleridge'spoetry--and the wild fantastic machinery and gorgeous scenery adopted bySouthey--composed his favourite reading; the rhythm of "Queen Mab" wasfounded on that of "Thalaba", and the first few lines bear a strikingresemblance in spirit, though not in idea, to the opening of that poem. His fertile imagination, and ear tuned to the finest sense of harmony, preserved him from imitation. Another of his favourite books was thepoem of "Gebir" by Walter Savage Landor. From his boyhood he had awonderful facility of versification, which he carried into anotherlanguage; and his Latin school-verses were composed with an ease andcorrectness that procured for him prizes, and caused him to be resortedto by all his friends for help. He was, at the period of writing "QueenMab", a great traveller within the limits of England, Scotland, andIreland. His time was spent among the loveliest scenes of thesecountries. Mountain and lake and forest were his home; the phenomena ofNature were his favourite study. He loved to inquire into their causes, and was addicted to pursuits of natural philosophy and chemistry, as faras they could be carried on as an amusement. These tastes gave truth andvivacity to his descriptions, and warmed his soul with that deepadmiration for the wonders of Nature which constant association with herinspired. 

He never intended to publish "Queen Mab" as it stands; but a few yearsafter, when printing "Alastor", he extracted a small portion which heentitled "The Daemon of the World". In this he changed somewhat theversification, and made other alterations scarcely to be calledimprovements. 

Some years after, when in Italy, a bookseller published an edition of"Queen Mab" as it originally stood. Shelley was hastily written to byhis friends, under the idea that, deeply injurious as the meredistribution of the poem had proved, the publication might awaken freshpersecutions. At the suggestion of these friends he wrote a letter onthe subject, printed in the "Examiner" newspaper--with which I closethis history of his earliest work. 

TO THE EDITOR OF THE 'EXAMINER. '

'Sir, 'Having heard that a poem entitled "Queen Mab" has been surreptitiouslypublished in London, and that legal proceedings have been institutedagainst the publisher, I request the favour of your insertion of thefollowing explanation of the affair, as it relates to me. 

'A poem entitled "Queen Mab" was written by me at the age of eighteen, Idaresay in a sufficiently intemperate spirit--but even then was notintended for publication, and a few copies only were struck off, to bedistributed among my personal friends. I have not seen this productionfor several years. I doubt not but that it is perfectly worthless inpoint of literary composition; and that, in all that concerns moral andpolitical speculation, as well as in the subtler discriminations ofmetaphysical and religious doctrine, it is still more crude andimmature. I am a devoted enemy to religious, political, and domesticoppression; and I regret this publication, not so much from literaryvanity, as because I fear it is better fitted to injure than to servethe sacred cause of freedom. I have directed my solicitor to apply toChancery for an injunction to restrain the sale; but, after theprecedent of Mr. Southey's "Wat Tyler" (a poem written, I believe, atthe same age, and with the same unreflecting enthusiasm), with littlehope of success. 

'Whilst I exonerate myself from all share in having divulged opinionshostile to existing sanctions, under the form, whatever it may be, whichthey assume in this poem, it is scarcely necessary for me to protestagainst the system of inculcating the truth of Christianity or theexcellence of Monarchy, however true or however excellent they may be, by such equivocal arguments as confiscation and imprisonment, andinvective and slander, and the insolent violation of the most sacredties of Nature and society. 

'SIR, 'I am your obliged and obedient servant, 'PERCY B. SHELLEY. 

'Pisa, June 22, 1821. '

***

[Of the following pieces the "Original Poetry by Victor and Cazire", thePoems from "St. Irvyne, or The Rosicrucian", "The Posthumous Fragmentsof Margaret Nicholson" and "The Devil's Walk", were published by Shelleyhimself; the others by Medwin, Rossetti, Forman and Dowden, as indicatedin the several prefatory notes. ]

VERSES ON A CAT. 

[Published by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858; dated 1800. ]

1. A cat in distress, Nothing more, nor less;Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye, As I am a sinner, It waits for some dinner _5To stuff out its own little belly. 

2. You would not easily guessAll the modes of distressWhich torture the tenants of earth;And the various evils, _10Which like so many devils, Attend the poor souls from their birth. 

3. Some a living require, And others desireAn old fellow out of the way; _15And which is the bestI leave to be guessed, For I cannot pretend to say. 

4. One wants society, Another variety, _20Others a tranquil life;Some want food, Others, as good, Only want a wife. 

5. But this poor little cat _25Only wanted a rat, To stuff out its own little maw;And it were as goodSOME people had such food, To make them HOLD THEIR JAW! _30

***

FRAGMENT: OMENS. 

[Published by Medwin, "Shelley Papers", 1833; dated 1807. ]

Hark! the owlet flaps his wingsIn the pathless dell beneath;Hark! 'tis the night-raven singsTidings of approaching death. 

***

EPITAPHIUM. 

[LATIN VERSION OF THE EPITAPH IN GRAY'S ELEGY. ]

[Published by Medwin, "Life of Shelley", 1847; dated 1808-9. ]

1. Hic sinu fessum caput hospitaliCespitis dormit juvenis, nec illiFata ridebant, popularis illeNescius aurae. 

2. Musa non vultu genus arroganti _5Rustica natum grege despicata, Et suum tristis puerum notavitSollicitudo. 

3. Indoles illi bene larga, pectusVeritas sedem sibi vindicavit, _10Et pari tantis meritis beavitMunere coelum. 

4. Omne quad moestis habuit misertoCorde largivit lacrimam, recepitOmne quod coelo voluit, fidelis _15Pectus amici. 

5. Longius sed tu fuge curiosusCaeteras laudes fuge suspicari, Caeteras culpas fuge velle tractasSede tremenda. _20

6. Spe tremescentes recubant in illaSede virtutes pariterque culpae, In sui Patris gremio, tremendaSede Deique. 

***

IN HOROLOGIUM. 

[Published by Medwin, "Life of Shelley", 1847; dated 1809. ]

Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula collesFortunata nimis Machina dicit horas. Quas MANIBUS premit illa duas insensa papillasCur mihi sit DIGITO tangere, amata, nefas?

***

A DIALOGUE. 

[Published (without title) by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858;dated 1809. Included in the Esdaile manuscript book. ]

DEATH:For my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave, I come, care-worn tenant of life, from the grave, Where Innocence sleeps 'neath the peace-giving sod, And the good cease to tremble at Tyranny's nod;I offer a calm habitation to thee, -- _5Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me?My mansion is damp, cold silence is there, But it lulls in oblivion the fiends of despair;Not a groan of regret, not a sigh, not a breath, Dares dispute with grim Silence the empire of Death. _10I offer a calm habitation to thee, --Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me?

MORTAL:Mine eyelids are heavy; my soul seeks repose, It longs in thy cells to embosom its woes, It longs in thy cells to deposit its load, _15Where no longer the scorpions of Perfidy goad, --Where the phantoms of Prejudice vanish away, And Bigotry's bloodhounds lose scent of their prey. Yet tell me, dark Death, when thine empire is o'er, What awaits on Futurity's mist-covered shore? _20

DEATH:Cease, cease, wayward Mortal! I dare not unveilThe shadows that float o'er Eternity's vale;Nought waits for the good but a spirit of Love, That will hail their blest advent to regions above. For Love, Mortal, gleams through the gloom of my sway, _25And the shades which surround me fly fast at its ray. Hast thou loved?--Then depart from these regions of hate, And in slumber with me blunt the arrows of fate. I offer a calm habitation to thee. --Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me? _30

MORTAL:Oh! sweet is thy slumber! oh! sweet is the rayWhich after thy night introduces the day;How concealed, how persuasive, self-interest's breath, Though it floats to mine ear from the bosom of Death!I hoped that I quite was forgotten by all, _35Yet a lingering friend might be grieved at my fall, And duty forbids, though I languish to die, When departure might heave Virtue's breast with a sigh. O Death! O my friend! snatch this form to thy shrine, And I fear, dear destroyer, I shall not repine. _40

NOTE:_22 o'er Esdaile manuscript; on 1858. 

***

TO THE MOONBEAM. 

[Published by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858: dated 1809. Included in the Esdaile manuscript book. ]

1. Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale, To bathe this burning brow. Moonbeam, why art thou so pale, As thou walkest o'er the dewy dale, Where humble wild-flowers grow? _5Is it to mimic me?But that can never be;For thine orb is bright, And the clouds are light, That at intervals shadow the star-studded night. _10

2. Now all is deathy still on earth;Nature's tired frame reposes;And, ere the golden morning's birthIts radiant hues discloses, Flies forth its balmy breath. _15But mine is the midnight of Death, And Nature's mornTo my bosom forlornBrings but a gloomier night, implants a deadlier thorn. 

3. Wretch! Suppress the glare of madness _20Struggling in thine haggard eye, For the keenest throb of sadness, Pale Despair's most sickening sigh, Is but to mimic me;And this must ever be, _25When the twilight of care, And the night of despair, Seem in my breast but joys to the pangs that rankle there. 

NOTE:_28 rankle Esdaile manuscript wake 1858. 

***

THE SOLITARY. 

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870;dated 1810. Included in the Esdaile manuscript book. ]

1. Dar'st thou amid the varied multitudeTo live alone, an isolated thing?To see the busy beings round thee spring, And care for none; in thy calm solitude, A flower that scarce breathes in the desert rude _5To Zephyr's passing wing?

2. Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove, Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother's hate, Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fateAs that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love: _10He bears a load which nothing can remove, A killing, withering weight. 

3. He smiles--'tis sorrow's deadliest mockery;He speaks--the cold words flow not from his soul;He acts like others, drains the genial bowl, -- _15Yet, yet he longs--although he fears--to die;He pants to reach what yet he seems to fly, Dull life's extremest goal. 

***

TO DEATH. 

[Published (without title) by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858; dated 1810. Included (under the title, "To Death") in the Esdaile manuscript book. ]

Death! where is thy victory?To triumph whilst I die, To triumph whilst thine ebon wingEnfolds my shuddering soul?O Death! where is thy sting? _5Not when the tides of murder roll, When nations groan, that kings may bask in bliss, Death! canst thou boast a victory such as this--When in his hour of pomp and powerHis blow the mightiest murderer gave, _10Mid Nature's cries the sacrificeOf millions to glut the grave;When sunk the Tyrant Desolation's slave;Or Freedom's life-blood streamed upon thy shrine;Stern Tyrant, couldst thou boast a victory such as mine? _15

To know in dissolution's voidThat mortals' baubles sunk decay;That everything, but Love, destroyedMust perish with its kindred clay, --Perish Ambition's crown, _20Perish her sceptred sway:From Death's pale front fades Pride's fastidious frown. In Death's damp vault the lurid fires decay, That Envy lights at heaven-born Virtue's beam--That all the cares subside, _25Which lurk beneath the tideOf life's unquiet stream;--Yes! this is victory!And on yon rock, whose dark form glooms the sky, To stretch these pale limbs, when the soul is fled; _30To baffle the lean passions of their prey, To sleep within the palace of the dead!Oh! not the King, around whose dazzling throneHis countless courtiers mock the words they say, Triumphs amid the bud of glory blown, _35As I in this cold bed, and faint expiring groan!

Tremble, ye proud, whose grandeur mocks the woeWhich props the column of unnatural state!You the plainings, faint and low, From Misery's tortured soul that flow, _40Shall usher to your fate. 

Tremble, ye conquerors, at whose fell commandThe war-fiend riots o'er a peaceful land!You Desolation's gory throngShall bear from Victory along _45To that mysterious strand. 

NOTE:_10 murderer Esdaile manuscript; murders 1858. 

***

LOVE'S ROSE. 

[Published (without title) by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858; dated 1810. Included in the Esdaile manuscript book. ]

1. Hopes, that swell in youthful breasts, Live not through the waste of time!Love's rose a host of thorns invests;Cold, ungenial is the clime, Where its honours blow. _5Youth says, 'The purple flowers are mine, 'Which die the while they glow. 

2. Dear the boon to Fancy given, Retracted whilst it's granted:Sweet the rose which lives in Heaven, _10Although on earth 'tis planted, Where its honours blow, While by earth's slaves the leaves are rivenWhich die the while they glow. 

3. Age cannot Love destroy, _15But perfidy can blast the flower, Even when in most unwary hourIt blooms in Fancy's bower. Age cannot Love destroy, But perfidy can rend the shrine _20In which its vermeil splendours shine. 

NOTES:Love's Rose--The title is Rossetti's, 1870. _2 not through Esdaile manuscript; they this, 1858. 

***

EYES: A FRAGMENT. 

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870;dated 1810. Included (four unpublished eight-line stanzas) in theEsdaile manuscript book. )]

How eloquent are eyes!Not the rapt poet's frenzied layWhen the soul's wildest feelings strayCan speak so well as they. How eloquent are eyes! _5Not music's most impassioned noteOn which Love's warmest fervours floatLike them bids rapture rise. 

Love, look thus again, --That your look may light a waste of years, _10Darting the beam that conquers caresThrough the cold shower of tears. Love, look thus again!

***

ORIGINAL POETRY BY VICTOR AND CAZIRE. 

[Published by Shelley, 1810. A Reprint, edited by Richard Garnett, C. B. , LL. D. , was issued by John Lane, in 1898. The punctuation of the originaledition is here retained. ]

A Person complained that whenever he began to write, he never couldarrange his ideas in grammatical order. Which occasion suggested theidea of the following lines:

1. Here I sit with my paper, my pen and my ink, First of this thing, and that thing, and t'other thing think;Then my thoughts come so pell-mell all into my mind, That the sense or the subject I never can find:This word is wrong placed, --no regard to the sense, The present and future, instead of past tense, Then my grammar I want; O dear! what a bore, I think I shall never attempt to write more, With patience I then my thoughts must arraign, Have them all in due order like mutes in a train, _10Like them too must wait in due patience and thought, Or else my fine works will all come to nought. My wit too's so copious, it flows like a river, But disperses its waters on black and white never;Like smoke it appears independent and free, _15But ah luckless smoke! it all passes like thee--Then at length all my patience entirely lost, My paper and pens in the fire are tossed;But come, try again--you must never despair, Our Murray's or Entick's are not all so rare, _20Implore their assistance--they'll come to your aid, Perform all your business without being paid, They'll tell you the present tense, future and past, Which should come first, and which should come last, This Murray will do--then to Entick repair, _25To find out the meaning of any word rare. This they friendly will tell, and ne'er make you blush, With a jeering look, taunt, or an O fie! tush!Then straight all your thoughts in black and white put, Not minding the if's, the be's, and the but, _30Then read it all over, see how it will run, How answers the wit, the retort, and the pun, Your writings may then with old Socrates vie, May on the same shelf with Demosthenes lie, May as Junius be sharp, or as Plato be sage. _35The pattern or satire to all of the age;But stop--a mad author I mean not to turn, Nor with thirst of applause does my heated brain burn, Sufficient that sense, wit, and grammar combined, My letters may make some slight food for the mind; _40That my thoughts to my friends I may freely impart, In all the warm language that flows from the heart. Hark! futurity calls! it loudly complains, It bids me step forward and just hold the reins, My excuse shall be humble, and faithful, and true, _45Such as I fear can be made but by few--Of writers this age has abundance and plenty, Three score and a thousand, two millions and twenty, Three score of them wits who all sharply vie, To try what odd creature they best can belie, _50A thousand are prudes who for CHARITY write, And fill up their sheets with spleen, envy, and spite[, ]One million are bards, who to Heaven aspire, And stuff their works full of bombast, rant, and fire, T'other million are wags who in Grubstreet attend, _55And just like a cobbler the old writings mend, The twenty are those who for pulpits indite, And pore over sermons all Saturday night. And now my good friends--who come after I mean, As I ne'er wore a cassock, or dined with a dean. _60Or like cobblers at mending I never did try, Nor with poets in lyrics attempted to vie;As for prudes these good souls I both hate and detest, So here I believe the matter must rest. --I've heard your complaint--my answer I've made, _65And since to your calls all the tribute I've paid, Adieu my good friend; pray never despair, But grammar and sense and everything dare, Attempt but to write dashing, easy, and free, Then take out your grammar and pay him his fee, _70Be not a coward, shrink not to a tense, But read it all over and make it out sense. What a tiresome girl!--pray soon make an end, Else my limited patience you'll quickly expend. Well adieu, I no longer your patience will try-- _75So swift to the post now the letter shall fly. 

JANUARY, 1810. 

2. 

TO MISS -- -- [HARRIET GROVE] FROM MISS -- -- [ELIZABETH SHELLEY]. 

For your letter, dear -- [Hattie], accept my best thanks, Rendered long and amusing by virtue of franks, Though concise they would please, yet the longer the better, The more news that's crammed in, more amusing the letter, All excuses of etiquette nonsense I hate, _5Which only are fit for the tardy and late, As when converse grows flat, of the weather they talk, How fair the sun shines--a fine day for a walk, Then to politics turn, of Burdett's reformation, One declares it would hurt, t'other better the nation, _10Will ministers keep? sure they've acted quite wrong, The burden this is of each morning-call song. So -- is going to -- you say, I hope that success her great efforts will pay [--]That [the Colonel] will see her, be dazzled outright, _15And declare he can't bear to be out of her sight. Write flaming epistles with love's pointed dart, Whose sharp little arrow struck right on his heart, Scold poor innocent Cupid for mischievous ways, He knows not how much to laud forth her praise, _20That he neither eats, drinks or sleeps for her sake, And hopes her hard heart some compassion will take, A refusal would kill him, so desperate his flame, But he fears, for he knows she is not common game, Then praises her sense, wit, discernment and grace, _25He's not one that's caught by a sly looking face, Yet that's TOO divine--such a black sparkling eye, At the bare glance of which near a thousand will die;Thus runs he on meaning but one word in ten, More than is meant by most such kind of men, _30For they're all alike, take them one with another, Begging pardon--with the exception of my brother. Of the drawings you mention much praise I have heard, Most opinion's the same, with the difference of word, Some get a good name by the voice of the crowd, _35Whilst to poor humble merit small praise is allowed, As in parliament votes, so in pictures a name, Oft determines a fate at the altar of fame. --So on Friday this City's gay vortex you quit, And no longer with Doctors and Johnny cats sit-- _40Now your parcel's arrived -- [Bysshe's] letter shall go, I hope all your joy mayn't be turned into woe, Experience will tell you that pleasure is vain, When it promises sunshine how often comes rain. So when to fond hope every blessing is nigh, _45How oft when we smile it is checked with a sigh, When Hope, gay deceiver, in pleasure is dressed, How oft comes a stroke that may rob us of rest. When we think ourselves safe, and the goal near at hand, Like a vessel just landing, we're wrecked near the strand, _50And though memory forever the sharp pang must feel, 'Tis our duty to bear, and our hardship to steel--May misfortunes dear Girl, ne'er thy happiness cloy, May thy days glide in peace, love, comfort and joy, May thy tears with soft pity for other woes flow, _55Woes, which thy tender heart never may know, For hardships our own, God has taught us to bear, Though sympathy's soul to a friend drops a tear. Oh dear! what sentimental stuff have I written, Only fit to tear up and play with a kitten. _60What sober reflections in the midst of this letter!Jocularity sure would have suited much better;But there are exceptions to all common rules, For this is a truth by all boys learned at schools. Now adieu my dear -- [Hattie] I'm sure I must tire, _65For if I do, you may throw it into the fire, So accept the best love of your cousin and friend, Which brings this nonsensical rhyme to an end. 

APRIL 30, 1810. 

NOTE:_19 mischievous]mischevious 1810. 

3. SONG. 

Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling, Cold are the damps on a dying man's brow, --Stern are the seas when the wild waves are rolling, And sad is the grave where a loved one lies low;But colder is scorn from the being who loved thee, _5More stern is the sneer from the friend who has proved thee, More sad are the tears when their sorrows have moved thee, Which mixed with groans anguish and wild madness flow--

And ah! poor -- has felt all this horror, Full long the fallen victim contended with fate: _10'Till a destitute outcast abandoned to sorrow, She sought her babe's food at her ruiner's gate--Another had charmed the remorseless betrayer, He turned laughing aside from her moans and her prayer, She said nothing, but wringing the wet from her hair, _15Crossed the dark mountain side, though the hour it was late. 'Twas on the wild height of the dark Penmanmawr, That the form of the wasted -- reclined;She shrieked to the ravens that croaked from afar, And she sighed to the gusts of the wild sweeping wind. -- _20I call not yon rocks where the thunder peals rattle, I call not yon clouds where the elements battle, But thee, cruel -- I call thee unkind!'--

Then she wreathed in her hair the wild flowers of the mountain, And deliriously laughing, a garland entwined, _25She bedewed it with tears, then she hung o'er the fountain, And leaving it, cast it a prey to the wind. 'Ah! go, ' she exclaimed, 'when the tempest is yelling, 'Tis unkind to be cast on the sea that is swelling, But I left, a pitiless outcast, my dwelling, _30My garments are torn, so they say is my mind--'

Not long lived --, but over her graveWaved the desolate form of a storm-blasted yew, Around it no demons or ghosts dare to rave, But spirits of peace steep her slumbers in dew. _35Then stay thy swift steps mid the dark mountain heather, Though chill blow the wind and severe is the weather, For perfidy, traveller! cannot bereave her, Of the tears, to the tombs of the innocent due. --

JULY, 1810. 

4. SONG. 

Come [Harriet]! sweet is the hour, Soft Zephyrs breathe gently around, The anemone's night-boding flower, Has sunk its pale head on the ground. 

'Tis thus the world's keenness hath torn, _5Some mild heart that expands to its blast, 'Tis thus that the wretched forlorn, Sinks poor and neglected at last. --

The world with its keenness and woe, Has no charms or attraction for me, _10Its unkindness with grief has laid low, The heart which is faithful to thee. The high trees that wave past the moon, As I walk in their umbrage with you, All declare I must part with you soon, _15All bid you a tender adieu!--

Then [Harriet]! dearest farewell, You and I love, may ne'er meet again;These woods and these meadows can tellHow soft and how sweet was the strain. -- _20

APRIL, 1810. 

5. SONG. 

DESPAIR. 

Ask not the pallid stranger's woe, With beating heart and throbbing breast, Whose step is faltering, weak, and slow, As though the body needed rest. --

Whose 'wildered eye no object meets, _5Nor cares to ken a friendly glance, With silent grief his bosom beats, --Now fixed, as in a deathlike trance. 

Who looks around with fearful eye, And shuns all converse with man kind, _10As though some one his griefs might spy, And soothe them with a kindred mind. 

A friend or foe to him the same, He looks on each with equal eye;The difference lies but in the name, _15To none for comfort can he fly. --

'Twas deep despair, and sorrow's trace, To him too keenly given, Whose memory, time could not efface--His peace was lodged in Heaven. -- _20

He looks on all this world bestows, The pride and pomp of power, As trifles best for pageant showsWhich vanish in an hour. 

When torn is dear affection's tie, _25Sinks the soft heart full low;It leaves without a parting sigh, All that these realms bestow. 

JUNE, 1810. 

6. SONG. 

SORROW. 

To me this world's a dreary blank, All hopes in life are gone and fled, My high strung energies are sank, And all my blissful hopes lie dead. --

The world once smiling to my view, _5Showed scenes of endless bliss and joy;The world I then but little knew, Ah! little knew how pleasures cloy;

All then was jocund, all was gay, No thought beyond the present hour, _10I danced in pleasure's fading ray, Fading alas! as drooping flower. 

Nor do the heedless in the throng, One thought beyond the morrow give[, ]They court the feast, the dance, the song, _15Nor think how short their time to live. 

The heart that bears deep sorrow's trace, What earthly comfort can console, It drags a dull and lengthened pace, 'Till friendly death its woes enroll. -- _20

The sunken cheek, the humid eyes, E'en better than the tongue can tell;In whose sad breast deep sorrow lies, Where memory's rankling traces dwell. --

The rising tear, the stifled sigh, _25A mind but ill at ease display, Like blackening clouds in stormy sky, Where fiercely vivid lightnings play. 

Thus when souls' energy is dead, When sorrow dims each earthly view, _30When every fairy hope is fled, We bid ungrateful world adieu. 

AUGUST, 1810. 

7. SONG. 

HOPE. 

And said I that all hope was fled, That sorrow and despair were mine, That each enthusiast wish was dead, Had sank beneath pale Misery's shrine. --

Seest thou the sunbeam's yellow glow, _5That robes with liquid streams of light;Yon distant Mountain's craggy brow. And shows the rocks so fair, --so bright--

Tis thus sweet expectation's ray, In softer view shows distant hours, _10And portrays each succeeding day, As dressed in fairer, brighter flowers, --

The vermeil tinted flowers that blossom;Are frozen but to bud anew, Then sweet deceiver calm my bosom, _15Although thy visions be not true, --

Yet true they are, --and I'll believe, Thy whisperings soft of love and peace, God never made thee to deceive, 'Tis sin that bade thy empire cease. _20

Yet though despair my life should gloom, Though horror should around me close, With those I love, beyond the tomb, Hope shows a balm for all my woes. 

AUGUST, 1810. 

8. SONG. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN. 

Oh! what is the gain of restless care, And what is ambitious treasure?And what are the joys that the modish share, In their sickly haunts of pleasure?

My husband's repast with delight I spread, _5What though 'tis but rustic fare, May each guardian angel protect his shed, May contentment and quiet be there. 

And may I support my husband's years, May I soothe his dying pain, _10And then may I dry my fast falling tears, And meet him in Heaven again. 

JULY, 1810. 

9. SONG. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 

Ah! grasp the dire dagger and couch the fell spear, If vengeance and death to thy bosom be dear, The dastard shall perish, death's torment shall prove, For fate and revenge are decreed from above. 

Ah! where is the hero, whose nerves strung by youth, _5Will defend the firm cause of justice and truth;With insatiate desire whose bosom shall swell, To give up the oppressor to judgement and Hell--

For him shall the fair one twine chaplets of bays, To him shall each warrior give merited praise, _10And triumphant returned from the clangour of arms, He shall find his reward in his loved maiden's charms. 

In ecstatic confusion the warrior shall sip, The kisses that glow on his love's dewy lip, And mutual, eternal, embraces shall prove, _15The rewards of the brave are the transports of love. 

OCTOBER, 1809. 

10. THE IRISHMAN'S SONG. 

The stars may dissolve, and the fountain of lightMay sink into ne'er ending chaos and night, Our mansions must fall, and earth vanish away, But thy courage O Erin! may never decay. 

See! the wide wasting ruin extends all around, _5Our ancestors' dwellings lie sunk on the ground, Our foes ride in triumph throughout our domains, And our mightiest heroes lie stretched on the plains. 

Ah! dead is the harp which was wont to give pleasure, Ah! sunk is our sweet country's rapturous measure, _10But the war note is waked, and the clangour of spears, The dread yell of Sloghan yet sounds in our ears. 

Ah! where are the heroes! triumphant in death, Convulsed they recline on the blood sprinkled heath, Or the yelling ghosts ride on the blast that sweeps by, _15And 'my countrymen! vengeance!' incessantly cry. 

OCTOBER, 1809. 

11. SONG. 

Fierce roars the midnight stormO'er the wild mountain, Dark clouds the night deform, Swift rolls the fountain--

See! o'er yon rocky height, _5Dim mists are flying--See by the moon's pale light, Poor Laura's dying!

Shame and remorse shall howl, By her false pillow-- _10Fiercer than storms that roll, O'er the white billow;

No hand her eyes to close, When life is flying, But she will find repose, _15For Laura's dying!

Then will I seek my love, Then will I cheer her, Then my esteem will prove, When no friend is near her. _20

On her grave I will lie, When life is parted, On her grave I will die, For the false hearted. 

DECEMBER, 1809. 

12. SONG. 

TO [HARRIET]. 

Ah! sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain, And sweet the mild rush of the soft-sighing breeze, And sweet is the glimpse of yon dimly-seen mountain, 'Neath the verdant arcades of yon shadowy trees. 

But sweeter than all was thy tone of affection, _5Which scarce seemed to break on the stillness of eve, Though the time it is past!--yet the dear recollection, For aye in the heart of thy [Percy] must live. 

Yet he hears thy dear voice in the summer winds sighing, Mild accents of happiness lisp in his ear, _10When the hope-winged moments athwart him are flying, And he thinks of the friend to his bosom so dear. --

And thou dearest friend in his bosom for everMust reign unalloyed by the fast rolling year, He loves thee, and dearest one never, Oh! never _15Canst thou cease to be loved by a heart so sincere. 

AUGUST, 1810. 

NOTE:_11 hope-winged]hoped-winged 1810. 

13. SONG. 

TO -- [HARRIET]. 

Stern, stern is the voice of fate's fearful command, When accents of horror it breathes in our ear, Or compels us for aye bid adieu to the land, Where exists that loved friend to our bosom so dear, 'Tis sterner than death o'er the shuddering wretch bending, _5And in skeleton grasp his fell sceptre extending, Like the heart-stricken deer to that loved covert wending, Which never again to his eyes may appear--

And ah! he may envy the heart-stricken quarry, Who bids to the friend of affection farewell, _10He may envy the bosom so bleeding and gory, He may envy the sound of the drear passing knell, Not so deep is his grief on his death couch reposing, When on the last vision his dim eyes are closing!As the outcast whose love-raptured senses are losing, _15The last tones of thy voice on the wild breeze that swell!

Those tones were so soft, and so sad, that ah! never, Can the sound cease to vibrate on Memory's ear, In the stern wreck of Nature for ever and ever, The remembrance must live of a friend so sincere. _20

AUGUST, 1810. 

14. SAINT EDMOND'S EVE. 

Oh! did you observe the Black Canon pass, And did you observe his frown?He goeth to say the midnight mass, In holy St. Edmond's town. 

He goeth to sing the burial chaunt, _5And to lay the wandering sprite, Whose shadowy, restless form doth haunt, The Abbey's drear aisle this night. 

It saith it will not its wailing cease, 'Till that holy man come near, _10'Till he pour o'er its grave the prayer of peace, And sprinkle the hallowed tear. 

The Canon's horse is stout and strongThe road is plain and fair, But the Canon slowly wends along, _15And his brow is gloomed with care. 

Who is it thus late at the Abbey-gate?Sullen echoes the portal bell, It sounds like the whispering voice of fate, It sounds like a funeral knell. _20

The Canon his faltering knee thrice bowed, And his frame was convulsed with fear, When a voice was heard distinct and loud, 'Prepare! for thy hour is near. '

He crosses his breast, he mutters a prayer, _25To Heaven he lifts his eye, He heeds not the Abbot's gazing stare, Nor the dark Monks who murmured by. 

Bare-headed he worships the sculptured saintsThat frown on the sacred walls, _30His face it grows pale, --he trembles, he faints, At the Abbot's feet he falls. 

And straight the father's robe he kissed, Who cried, 'Grace dwells with thee, The spirit will fade like the morning mist, _35At your benedicite. 

'Now haste within! the board is spread, Keen blows the air, and cold, The spectre sleeps in its earthy bed, 'Till St. Edmond's bell hath tolled, -- _40

'Yet rest your wearied limbs to-night, You've journeyed many a mile, To-morrow lay the wailing sprite, That shrieks in the moonlight aisle. 

'Oh! faint are my limbs and my bosom is cold, _45Yet to-night must the sprite be laid, Yet to-night when the hour of horror's told, Must I meet the wandering shade. 

'Nor food, nor rest may now delay, --For hark! the echoing pile, _50A bell loud shakes!--Oh haste away, O lead to the haunted aisle. '

The torches slowly move before, The cross is raised on high, A smile of peace the Canon wore, _55But horror dimmed his eye--

And now they climb the footworn stair, The chapel gates unclose, Now each breathed low a fervent prayer, And fear each bosom froze-- _60

Now paused awhile the doubtful bandAnd viewed the solemn scene, --Full dark the clustered columns stand, The moon gleams pale between--

'Say father, say, what cloisters' gloom _65Conceals the unquiet shade, Within what dark unhallowed tomb, The corse unblessed was laid. '

'Through yonder drear aisle alone it walks, And murmurs a mournful plaint, _70Of thee! Black Canon, it wildly talks, And call on thy patron saint--

The pilgrim this night with wondering eyes, As he prayed at St. Edmond's shrine, From a black marble tomb hath seen it rise, _75And under yon arch recline. '--

'Oh! say upon that black marble tomb, What memorial sad appears. '--'Undistinguished it lies in the chancel's gloom, No memorial sad it bears'-- _80

The Canon his paternoster reads, His rosary hung by his side, Now swift to the chancel doors he leads, And untouched they open wide, Resistless, strange sounds his steps impel, _85To approach to the black marble tomb, 'Oh! enter, Black Canon, ' a whisper fell, 'Oh! enter, thy hour is come. '

He paused, told his beads, and the threshold passed. Oh! horror, the chancel doors close, _90A loud yell was borne on the rising blast, And a deep, dying groan arose. 

The Monks in amazement shuddering stand, They burst through the chancel's gloom, From St. Edmond's shrine, lo! a skeleton's hand, _95Points to the black marble tomb. 

Lo! deeply engraved, an inscription blood red, In characters fresh and clear--'The guilty Black Canon of Elmham's dead, And his wife lies buried here!' _100

In Elmham's tower he wedded a Nun, To St. Edmond's his bride he bore, On this eve her noviciate here was begun, And a Monk's gray weeds she wore;--

O! deep was her conscience dyed with guilt, _105Remorse she full oft revealed, Her blood by the ruthless Black Canon was spilt, And in death her lips he sealed;

Her spirit to penance this night was doomed, 'Till the Canon atoned the deed, _110Here together they now shall rest entombed, 'Till their bodies from dust are freed--

Hark! a loud peal of thunder shakes the roof, Round the altar bright lightnings play, Speechless with horror the Monks stand aloof, _115And the storm dies sudden away--

The inscription was gone! a cross on the ground, And a rosary shone through the gloom, But never again was the Canon there found, Or the Ghost on the black marble tomb. _120

15. REVENGE. 

'Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill, Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill, The thunder's wild voice rattles madly above, You will not then, cannot then, leave me my love. --'

I must dearest Agnes, the night is far gone-- _5I must wander this evening to Strasburg alone, I must seek the drear tomb of my ancestors' bones, And must dig their remains from beneath the cold stones. 

'For the spirit of Conrad there meets me this night, And we quit not the tomb 'till dawn of the light, _10And Conrad's been dead just a month and a day!So farewell dearest Agnes for I must away, --

'He bid me bring with me what most I held dear, Or a month from that time should I lie on my bier, And I'd sooner resign this false fluttering breath, _15Than my Agnes should dread either danger or death, 'And I love you to madness my Agnes I love, My constant affection this night will I prove, This night will I go to the sepulchre's jawAlone will I glut its all conquering maw'-- _20

'No! no loved Adolphus thy Agnes will share, In the tomb all the dangers that wait for you there, I fear not the spirit, --I fear not the grave, My dearest Adolphus I'd perish to save'--

'Nay seek not to say that thy love shall not go, _25But spare me those ages of horror and woe, For I swear to thee here that I'll perish ere day, If you go unattended by Agnes away'--

The night it was bleak the fierce storm raged around, The lightning's blue fire-light flashed on the ground, _30Strange forms seemed to flit, --and howl tidings of fate, As Agnes advanced to the sepulchre gate. --

The youth struck the portal, --the echoing soundWas fearfully rolled midst the tombstones around, The blue lightning gleamed o'er the dark chapel spire, _35And tinged were the storm clouds with sulphurous fire. 

Still they gazed on the tombstone where Conrad reclined, Yet they shrank at the cold chilling blast of the wind, When a strange silver brilliance pervaded the scene, And a figure advanced--tall in form--fierce in mien. _40

A mantle encircled his shadowy form, As light as a gossamer borne on the storm, Celestial terror sat throned in his gaze, Like the midnight pestiferous meteor's blaze. --

SPIRIT:Thy father, Adolphus! was false, false as hell, _45And Conrad has cause to remember it well, He ruined my Mother, despised me his son, I quitted the world ere my vengeance was done. 

I was nearly expiring--'twas close of the day, --A demon advanced to the bed where I lay, _50He gave me the power from whence I was hurled, To return to revenge, to return to the world, --

Now Adolphus I'll seize thy best loved in my arms, I'll drag her to Hades all blooming in charms, On the black whirlwind's thundering pinion I'll ride, _55And fierce yelling fiends shall exult o'er thy bride--

He spoke, and extending his ghastly arms wide, Majestic advanced with a swift noiseless stride, He clasped the fair Agnes--he raised her on high, And cleaving the roof sped his way to the sky-- _60

All was now silent, --and over the tomb, Thicker, deeper, was swiftly extended a gloom, Adolphus in horror sank down on the stone, And his fleeting soul fled with a harrowing groan. 

DECEMBER, 1809. 

16. GHASTA OR, THE AVENGING DEMON!!!

The idea of the following tale was taken from a few unconnected GermanStanzas. --The principal Character is evidently the Wandering Jew, andalthough not mentioned by name, the burning Cross on his foreheadundoubtedly alludes to that superstition, so prevalent in the part ofGermany called the Black Forest, where this scene is supposed to lie. 

Hark! the owlet flaps her wing, In the pathless dell beneath, Hark! night ravens loudly sing, Tidings of despair and death. --

Horror covers all the sky, _5Clouds of darkness blot the moon, Prepare! for mortal thou must die, Prepare to yield thy soul up soon--

Fierce the tempest raves around, Fierce the volleyed lightnings fly, _10Crashing thunder shakes the ground, Fire and tumult fill the sky. --

Hark! the tolling village bell, Tells the hour of midnight come, Now can blast the powers of Hell, _15Fiend-like goblins now can roam--

See! his crest all stained with rain, A warrior hastening speeds his way, He starts, looks round him, starts again, And sighs for the approach of day. _20

See! his frantic steed he reins, See! he lifts his hands on high, Implores a respite to his pains, From the powers of the sky. --

He seeks an Inn, for faint from toil, _25Fatigue had bent his lofty form, To rest his wearied limbs awhile, Fatigued with wandering and the storm. 

...... 

Slow the door is opened wide--With trackless tread a stranger came, _30His form Majestic, slow his stride, He sate, nor spake, --nor told his name--

Terror blanched the warrior's cheek, Cold sweat from his forehead ran, In vain his tongue essayed to speak, -- _35At last the stranger thus began:

'Mortal! thou that saw'st the sprite, Tell me what I wish to know, Or come with me before 'tis light, Where cypress trees and mandrakes grow. _40

'Fierce the avenging Demon's ire, Fiercer than the wintry blast, Fiercer than the lightning's fire, When the hour of twilight's past'--

The warrior raised his sunken eye. _45It met the stranger's sullen scowl, 'Mortal! Mortal! thou must die, 'In burning letters chilled his soul. 

WARRIOR:Stranger! whoso'er you are, I feel impelled my tale to tell-- _50Horrors stranger shalt thou hear, Horrors drear as those of Hell. 

O'er my Castle silence reigned, Late the night and drear the hour, When on the terrace I observed, _55A fleeting shadowy mist to lower. --

Light the cloud as summer fog, Which transient shuns the morning beam;Fleeting as the cloud on bog, That hangs or on the mountain stream. -- _60

Horror seized my shuddering brain, Horror dimmed my starting eye. In vain I tried to speak, --In vainMy limbs essayed the spot to fly--

At last the thin and shadowy form, _65With noiseless, trackless footsteps came, --Its light robe floated on the storm, Its head was bound with lambent flame. 

In chilling voice drear as the breezeWhich sweeps along th' autumnal ground, _70Which wanders through the leafless trees, Or the mandrake's groan which floats around. 

'Thou art mine and I am thine, 'Till the sinking of the world, I am thine and thou art mine, _75'Till in ruin death is hurled--

'Strong the power and dire the fate, Which drags me from the depths of Hell, Breaks the tomb's eternal gate, Where fiendish shapes and dead men yell, _80

'Haply I might ne'er have shrankFrom flames that rack the guilty dead, Haply I might ne'er have sankOn pleasure's flowery, thorny bed--

--'But stay! no more I dare disclose, _85Of the tale I wish to tell, On Earth relentless were my woes, But fiercer are my pangs in Hell--

'Now I claim thee as my love, Lay aside all chilling fear, _90My affection will I prove, Where sheeted ghosts and spectres are!

'For thou art mine, and I am thine, 'Till the dreaded judgement day, I am thine, and thou art mine-- _95Night is past--I must away. '

Still I gazed, and still the formPressed upon my aching sight, Still I braved the howling storm, When the ghost dissolved in night. -- _100

Restless, sleepless fled the night, Sleepless as a sick man's bed, When he sighs for morning light, When he turns his aching head, --

Slow and painful passed the day. _105Melancholy seized my brain, Lingering fled the hours away, Lingering to a wretch in pain. --

At last came night, ah! horrid hour, Ah! chilling time that wakes the dead, _110When demons ride the clouds that lower, --The phantom sat upon my bed. 

In hollow voice, low as the soundWhich in some charnel makes its moan, What floats along the burying ground, _115The phantom claimed me as her own. 

Her chilling finger on my head, With coldest touch congealed my soul--Cold as the finger of the dead, Or damps which round a tombstone roll-- _120

Months are passed in lingering round, Every night the spectre comes, With thrilling step it shakes the ground, With thrilling step it round me roams--

Stranger! I have told to thee, _125All the tale I have to tell--Stranger! canst thou tell to me, How to 'scape the powers of Hell?--

STRANGER:Warrior! I can ease thy woes, Wilt thou, wilt thou, come with me-- _130Warrior! I can all disclose, Follow, follow, follow me. 

Yet the tempest's duskiest wing, Its mantle stretches o'er the sky, Yet the midnight ravens sing, _135'Mortal! Mortal! thou must die. '

At last they saw a river clear, That crossed the heathy path they trod, The Stranger's look was wild and drear, The firm Earth shook beneath his nod-- _140

He raised a wand above his head, He traced a circle on the plain, In a wild verse he called the dead, The dead with silent footsteps came. 

A burning brilliance on his head, _145Flaming filled the stormy air, In a wild verse he called the dead, The dead in motley crowd were there. --

'Ghasta! Ghasta! come along, Bring thy fiendish crowd with thee, _150Quickly raise th' avenging Song, Ghasta! Ghasta! come to me. '

Horrid shapes in mantles gray, Flit athwart the stormy night, 'Ghasta! Ghasta! come away, _155Come away before 'tis light. '

See! the sheeted Ghost they bring, Yelling dreadful o'er the heath, Hark! the deadly verse they sing, Tidings of despair and death! _160

The yelling Ghost before him stands, See! she rolls her eyes around, Now she lifts her bony hands, Now her footsteps shake the ground. 

STRANGER:Phantom of Theresa say, _165Why to earth again you came, Quickly speak, I must away!Or you must bleach for aye in flame, --

PHANTOM:Mighty one I know thee now, Mightiest power of the sky, _170Know thee by thy flaming brow, Know thee by thy sparkling eye. 

That fire is scorching! Oh! I came, From the caverned depth of Hell, My fleeting false Rodolph to claim, _175Mighty one! I know thee well. --

STRANGER:Ghasta! seize yon wandering sprite, Drag her to the depth beneath, Take her swift, before 'tis light, Take her to the cells of death! _180

Thou that heardst the trackless dead, In the mouldering tomb must lie, Mortal! look upon my head, Mortal! Mortal! thou must die. 

Of glowing flame a cross was there, _185Which threw a light around his form, Whilst his lank and raven hair, Floated wild upon the storm. --

The warrior upwards turned his eyes, Gazed upon the cross of fire, _190There sat horror and surprise, There sat God's eternal ire. --

A shivering through the Warrior flew, Colder than the nightly blast, Colder than the evening dew, _195When the hour of twilight's past. --

Thunder shakes th' expansive sky, Shakes the bosom of the heath, 'Mortal! Mortal! thou must die'--The warrior sank convulsed in death. _200

JANUARY, 1810. 

NOTES:_114 its]it 1810. _115 What]query Which?

17. FRAGMENT, OR THE TRIUMPH OF CONSCIENCE. 

'Twas dead of the night when I sate in my dwelling, One glimmering lamp was expiring and low, --Around the dark tide of the tempest was swelling, Along the wild mountains night-ravens were yelling, They bodingly presaged destruction and woe! _5

'Twas then that I started, the wild storm was howling, Nought was seen, save the lightning that danced on the sky, Above me the crash of the thunder was rolling, And low, chilling murmurs the blast wafted by. --

My heart sank within me, unheeded the jar _10Of the battling clouds on the mountain-tops broke, Unheeded the thunder-peal crashed in mine ear, This heart hard as iron was stranger to fear, But conscience in low noiseless whispering spoke. 'Twas then that her form on the whirlwind uprearing, _15The dark ghost of the murdered Victoria strode, Her right hand a blood reeking dagger was bearing, She swiftly advanced to my lonesome abode. --I wildly then called on the tempest to bear me!

...... 

***

POEMS FROM ST. IRVYNE, OR, THE ROSICRUCIAN. 

["St. Irvyne; or The Rosicrucian", appeared early in 1811 (see"Bibliographical List"). Rossetti (1870) relying on a passage inMedwin's "Life of Shelley" (1 page 74), assigns 1, 4, 5, and 6 to 1808, and 2 and 4 to 1809. The titles of 1, 3, 4, and 5 are Rossetti's; thoseof 2 and 6 are Dowden's. ]

***

1. --VICTORIA. 

[Another version of "The Triumph of Conscience" immediately preceding. ]

1. 'Twas dead of the night, when I sat in my dwelling;One glimmering lamp was expiring and low;Around, the dark tide of the tempest was swelling, Along the wild mountains night-ravens were yelling, --They bodingly presaged destruction and woe. _5

2. 'Twas then that I started!--the wild storm was howling, Nought was seen, save the lightning, which danced in the sky;Above me, the crash of the thunder was rolling, And low, chilling murmurs, the blast wafted by. 

3. My heart sank within me--unheeded the war _10Of the battling clouds, on the mountain-tops, broke;--Unheeded the thunder-peal crashed in mine ear--This heart, hard as iron, is stranger to fear;But conscience in low, noiseless whispering spoke. 

4. 'Twas then that her form on the whirlwind upholding, _15The ghost of the murdered Victoria strode;In her right hand, a shadowy shroud she was holding, She swiftly advanced to my lonesome abode. 

5. I wildly then called on the tempest to bear me--'

... 

NOTE:1. --Victoria: without title, 1811. 

2. --ON THE DARK HEIGHT OF JURA. 

1. Ghosts of the dead! have I not heard your yellingRise on the night-rolling breath of the blast, When o'er the dark aether the tempest is swelling, And on eddying whirlwind the thunder-peal passed?

2. For oft have I stood on the dark height of Jura, _5Which frowns on the valley that opens beneath;Oft have I braved the chill night-tempest's fury, Whilst around me, I thought, echoed murmurs of death. 

3. And now, whilst the winds of the mountain are howling, O father! thy voice seems to strike on mine ear; _10In air whilst the tide of the night-storm is rolling, It breaks on the pause of the elements' jar. 

4. On the wing of the whirlwind which roars o'er the mountainPerhaps rides the ghost of my sire who is dead:On the mist of the tempest which hangs o'er the fountain, Whilst a wreath of dark vapour encircles his head. 

NOTE:2. --On the Dark, etc. : without title, 1811; The Father's Spectre, Rossetti, 1870. 

3. --SISTER ROSA: A BALLAD. 

1. The death-bell beats!--The mountain repeatsThe echoing sound of the knell;And the dark Monk nowWraps the cowl round his brow, _5As he sits in his lonely cell. 

2. And the cold hand of deathChills his shuddering breath, As he lists to the fearful layWhich the ghosts of the sky, _10As they sweep wildly by, Sing to departed day. And they sing of the hourWhen the stern fates had powerTo resolve Rosa's form to its clay. _15

3. But that hour is past;And that hour was the lastOf peace to the dark Monk's brain. Bitter tears, from his eyes, gushed silent and fast;And he strove to suppress them in vain. _20

4. Then his fair cross of gold he dashed on the floor, When the death-knell struck on his ear. --'Delight is in storeFor her evermore;But for me is fate, horror, and fear. ' _25

5. Then his eyes wildly rolled, When the death-bell tolled, And he raged in terrific woe. And he stamped on the ground, --But when ceased the sound, _30Tears again began to flow. 

6. And the ice of despairChilled the wild throb of care, And he sate in mute agony still;Till the night-stars shone through the cloudless air, _35And the pale moonbeam slept on the hill. 

7. Then he knelt in his cell:--And the horrors of hellWere delights to his agonized pain, And he prayed to God to dissolve the spell, _40Which else must for ever remain. 

8. And in fervent pray'r he knelt on the ground, Till the abbey bell struck One:His feverish blood ran chill at the sound:A voice hollow and horrible murmured around-- _45'The term of thy penance is done!'

9. Grew dark the night;The moonbeam brightWaxed faint on the mountain high;And, from the black hill, _50Went a voice cold and still, --'Monk! thou art free to die. '

10. Then he rose on his feet, And his heart loud did beat, And his limbs they were palsied with dread; _55Whilst the grave's clammy dewO'er his pale forehead grew;And he shuddered to sleep with the dead. 

11. And the wild midnight stormRaved around his tall form, _60As he sought the chapel's gloom:And the sunk grass did sighTo the wind, bleak and high, As he searched for the new-made tomb. 

12. And forms, dark and high, _65Seemed around him to fly, And mingle their yells with the blast:And on the dark wallHalf-seen shadows did fall, As enhorrored he onward passed. _70

13. And the storm-fiends wild raveO'er the new-made grave, And dread shadows linger around. The Monk called on God his soul to save, And, in horror, sank on the ground. _75

14. Then despair nerved his armTo dispel the charm, And he burst Rosa's coffin asunder. And the fierce storm did swellMore terrific and fell, _80And louder pealed the thunder. 

15. And laughed, in joy, the fiendish throng, Mixed with ghosts of the mouldering dead:And their grisly wings, as they floated along, Whistled in murmurs dread. _85

16. And her skeleton form the dead Nun rearedWhich dripped with the chill dew of hell. In her half-eaten eyeballs two pale flames appeared, And triumphant their gleam on the dark Monk glared, As he stood within the cell. _90

17. And her lank hand lay on his shuddering brain;But each power was nerved by fear. --'I never, henceforth, may breathe again;Death now ends mine anguished pain. --The grave yawns, --we meet there. ' _95

18. And her skeleton lungs did utter the sound, So deadly, so lone, and so fell, That in long vibrations shuddered the ground;And as the stern notes floated around, A deep groan was answered from hell. 

NOTE:3. --Sister Rosa: Ballad, 1811. 

4. --ST. IRVYNE'S TOWER. 

1. How swiftly through Heaven's wide expanseBright day's resplendent colours fade!How sweetly does the moonbeam's glanceWith silver tint St. Irvyne's glade!

2. No cloud along the spangled air, _5Is borne upon the evening breeze;How solemn is the scene! how fairThe moonbeams rest upon the trees!

3. Yon dark gray turret glimmers white, Upon it sits the mournful owl; _10Along the stillness of the night, Her melancholy shriekings roll. 

4. But not alone on Irvyne's tower, The silver moonbeam pours her ray;It gleams upon the ivied bower, _15It dances in the cascade's spray. 

5. 'Ah! why do dark'ning shades concealThe hour, when man must cease to be?Why may not human minds unveilThe dim mists of futurity?-- _20

6. 'The keenness of the world hath tornThe heart which opens to its blast;Despised, neglected, and forlorn, Sinks the wretch in death at last. '

NOTE:4. --St. Irvyne's Tower: Song, 1810. 

5. --BEREAVEMENT. 

1. How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner, As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops, to Perfection's remembrance, a tear;When floods of despair down his pale cheek are streaming, _5When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming, Or, if lulled for awhile, soon he starts from his dreaming, And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear. 

2. Ah! when shall day dawn on the night of the grave, Or summer succeed to the winter of death? _10Rest awhile, hapless victim, and Heaven will saveThe spirit, that faded away with the breath. Eternity points in its amaranth bower, Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lower, Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower, _15When woe fades away like the mist of the heath. 

NOTE:5. --Bereavement: Song, 1811. 

6. --THE DROWNED LOVER. 

1. Ah! faint are her limbs, and her footstep is weary, Yet far must the desolate wanderer roam;Though the tempest is stern, and the mountain is dreary, She must quit at deep midnight her pitiless home. I see her swift foot dash the dew from the whortle, _5As she rapidly hastes to the green grove of myrtle;And I hear, as she wraps round her figure the kirtle, 'Stay thy boat on the lake, --dearest Henry, I come. '

2. High swelled in her bosom the throb of affection, As lightly her form bounded over the lea, _10And arose in her mind every dear recollection;'I come, dearest Henry, and wait but for thee. 'How sad, when dear hope every sorrow is soothing, When sympathy's swell the soft bosom is moving, And the mind the mild joys of affection is proving, _15Is the stern voice of fate that bids happiness flee!

3. Oh! dark lowered the clouds on that horrible eve, And the moon dimly gleamed through the tempested air;Oh! how could fond visions such softness deceive?Oh! how could false hope rend, a bosom so fair? _20Thy love's pallid corse the wild surges are laving, O'er his form the fierce swell of the tempest is raving;But, fear not, parting spirit; thy goodness is saving, In eternity's bowers, a seat for thee there. 

6. --The Drowned Lover: Song. 1811; The Lake-Storm, Rossetti, 1870. 

***

POSTHUMOUS FRAGMENTS OF MARGARET MCHOLSON. 

Being Poems found amongst the Papers of that noted Female who attemptedthe life of the King in 1786. Edited by John Fitzvictor. 

[The "Posthumous Fragments", published at Oxford by Shelley, appeared inNovember, 1810. See "Bibliographical List". ]

ADVERTISEMENT. 

The energy and native genius of these Fragments must be the only apologywhich the Editor can make for thus intruding them on the public notice. The first I found with no title, and have left it so. It is intimatelyconnected with the dearest interests of universal happiness; and much aswe may deplore the fatal and enthusiastic tendency which the ideas ofthis poor female had acquired, we cannot fail to pay the tribute ofunequivocal regret to the departed memory of genius, which, had it beenrightly organized, would have made that intellect, which has sincebecome the victim of frenzy and despair, a most brilliant ornament tosociety. 

In case the sale of these Fragments evinces that the public have anycuriosity to be presented with a more copious collection of myunfortunate Aunt's poems, I have other papers in my possession whichshall, in that case, be subjected to their notice. It may be supposedthey require much arrangement; but I send the following to the press inthe same state in which they came into my possession. J. F. 

WAR. 

Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurledDeath, fate, and ruin, on a bleeding world. See! on yon heath what countless victims lie, Hark! what loud shrieks ascend through yonder sky;Tell then the cause, 'tis sure the avenger's rage _5Has swept these myriads from life's crowded stage:Hark to that groan, an anguished hero dies, He shudders in death's latest agonies;Yet does a fleeting hectic flush his cheek, Yet does his parting breath essay to speak-- _10'Oh God! my wife, my children--Monarch thouFor whose support this fainting frame lies low;For whose support in distant lands I bleed, Let his friends' welfare be the warrior's meed. He hears me not--ah! no--kings cannot hear, _15For passion's voice has dulled their listless ear. To thee, then, mighty God, I lift my moan, Thou wilt not scorn a suppliant's anguished groan. Oh! now I die--but still is death's fierce pain--God hears my prayer--we meet, we meet again. ' _20He spake, reclined him on death's bloody bed, And with a parting groan his spirit fled. Oppressors of mankind to YOU we oweThe baleful streams from whence these miseries flow;For you how many a mother weeps her son, _25Snatched from life's course ere half his race was run!For you how many a widow drops a tear, In silent anguish, on her husband's bier!'Is it then Thine, Almighty Power, ' she cries, 'Whence tears of endless sorrow dim these eyes? _30Is this the system which Thy powerful sway, Which else in shapeless chaos sleeping lay, Formed and approved?--it cannot be--but oh!Forgive me, Heaven, my brain is warped by woe. ''Tis not--He never bade the war-note swell, _35He never triumphed in the work of hell--Monarchs of earth! thine is the baleful deed, Thine are the crimes for which thy subjects bleed. Ah! when will come the sacred fated time, When man unsullied by his leaders' crime, _40Despising wealth, ambition, pomp, and pride, Will stretch him fearless by his foe-men's side?Ah! when will come the time, when o'er the plainNo more shall death and desolation reign?When will the sun smile on the bloodless field, _45And the stern warrior's arm the sickle wield?Not whilst some King, in cold ambition's dreams, Plans for the field of death his plodding schemes;Not whilst for private pique the public fall, And one frail mortal's mandate governs all. _50Swelled with command and mad with dizzying sway;Who sees unmoved his myriads fade away. Careless who lives or dies--so that he gainsSome trivial point for which he took the pains. What then are Kings?--I see the trembling crowd, _55I hear their fulsome clamours echoed loud;Their stern oppressor pleased appears awhile, But April's sunshine is a Monarch's smile--Kings are but dust--the last eventful dayWill level all and make them lose their sway; _60Will dash the sceptre from the Monarch's hand, And from the warrior's grasp wrest the ensanguined brand. Oh! Peace, soft Peace, art thou for ever gone, Is thy fair form indeed for ever flown?And love and concord hast thou swept away, _65As if incongruous with thy parted sway?Alas, I fear thou hast, for none appear. Now o'er the palsied earth stalks giant Fear, With War, and Woe, and Terror, in his train;--List'ning he pauses on the embattled plain, _70Then speeding swiftly o'er the ensanguined heath, Has left the frightful work to Hell and Death. See! gory Ruin yokes his blood-stained car, He scents the battle's carnage from afar;Hell and Destruction mark his mad career, _75He tracks the rapid step of hurrying Fear;Whilst ruined towns and smoking cities tell, That thy work, Monarch, is the work of Hell. 'It is thy work!' I hear a voice repeat, Shakes the broad basis of thy bloodstained seat; _80And at the orphan's sigh, the widow's moan, Totters the fabric of thy guilt-stained throne--'It is thy work, O Monarch;' now the soundFainter and fainter, yet is borne around, Yet to enthusiast ears the murmurs tell _85That Heaven, indignant at the work of Hell, Will soon the cause, the hated cause remove, Which tears from earth peace, innocence, and love. 

NOTE:War: the title is Woodberry's, 1893; no title, 1810. 

***

FRAGMENT: SUPPOSED TO BE AN EPITHALAMIUM OF FRANCIS RAVAILLACAND CHARLOTTE CORDAY. 

'Tis midnight now--athwart the murky air, Dank lurid meteors shoot a livid gleam;From the dark storm-clouds flashes a fearful glare, It shows the bending oak, the roaring stream. 

I pondered on the woes of lost mankind, _5I pondered on the ceaseless rage of Kings;My rapt soul dwelt upon the ties that bindThe mazy volume of commingling things, When fell and wild misrule to man stern sorrow brings. 

I heard a yell--it was not the knell, _10When the blasts on the wild lake sleep, That floats on the pause of the summer gale's swell, O'er the breast of the waveless deep. 

I thought it had been death's accents coldThat bade me recline on the shore; _15I laid mine hot head on the surge-beaten mould, And thought to breathe no more. 

But a heavenly sleepThat did suddenly steepIn balm my bosom's pain, _20Pervaded my soul, And free from control, Did mine intellect range again. 

Methought enthroned upon a silvery cloud, Which floated mid a strange and brilliant light; _25My form upborne by viewless aether rode, And spurned the lessening realms of earthly night. What heavenly notes burst on my ravished ears, What beauteous spirits met my dazzled eye!Hark! louder swells the music of the spheres, _30More clear the forms of speechless bliss float by, And heavenly gestures suit aethereal melody. 

But fairer than the spirits of the air, More graceful than the Sylph of symmetry, Than the enthusiast's fancied love more fair, _35Were the bright forms that swept the azure sky. Enthroned in roseate light, a heavenly bandStrewed flowers of bliss that never fade away;They welcome virtue to its native land, And songs of triumph greet the joyous day _40When endless bliss the woes of fleeting life repay. 

Congenial minds will seek their kindred soul, E'en though the tide of time has rolled between;They mock weak matter's impotent control, And seek of endless life the eternal scene. _45At death's vain summons THIS will never die, In Nature's chaos THIS will not decay--These are the bands which closely, warmly, tieThy soul, O Charlotte, 'yond this chain of clay, To him who thine must be till time shall fade away. _50

Yes, Francis! thine was the dear knife that toreA tyrant's heart-strings from his guilty breast, Thine was the daring at a tyrant's gore, To smile in triumph, to contemn the rest;And thine, loved glory of thy sex! to tear _55From its base shrine a despot's haughty soul, To laugh at sorrow in secure despair, To mock, with smiles, life's lingering control, And triumph mid the griefs that round thy fate did roll. 

Yes! the fierce spirits of the avenging deep _60With endless tortures goad their guilty shades. I see the lank and ghastly spectres sweepAlong the burning length of yon arcades;And I see Satan stalk athwart the plain;He hastes along the burning soil of Hell. _65'Welcome, ye despots, to my dark domain, With maddening joy mine anguished senses swellTo welcome to their home the friends I love so well. '

... 

Hark! to those notes, how sweet, how thrilling sweetThey echo to the sound of angels' feet. _70

... 

Oh haste to the bower where roses are spread, For there is prepared thy nuptial bed. Oh haste--hark! hark!--they're gone. 

... 

CHORUS OF SPIRITS:Stay, ye days of contentment and joy, Whilst love every care is erasing, _75Stay ye pleasures that never can cloy, And ye spirits that can never cease pleasing. 

And if any soft passion be near, Which mortals, frail mortals, can know, Let love shed on the bosom a tear, _80And dissolve the chill ice-drop of woe. 

SYMPHONY. 

FRANCIS:'Soft, my dearest angel, stay, Oh! you suck my soul away;Suck on, suck on, I glow, I glow!Tides of maddening passion roll, _85And streams of rapture drown my soul. Now give me one more billing kiss, Let your lips now repeat the bliss, Endless kisses steal my breath, No life can equal such a death. ' _90

CHARLOTTE:'Oh! yes I will kiss thine eyes so fair, And I will clasp thy form;Serene is the breath of the balmy air, But I think, love, thou feelest me warmAnd I will recline on thy marble neck _95Till I mingle into thee;And I will kiss the rose on thy cheek, And thou shalt give kisses to me. For here is no morn to flout our delight, Oh! dost thou not joy at this? _100And here we may lie an endless night, A long, long night of bliss. '

Spirits! when raptures move, Say what it is to love, When passion's tear stands on the cheek, _105When bursts the unconscious sigh;And the tremulous lips dare not speakWhat is told by the soul-felt eye. But what is sweeter to revenge's earThan the fell tyrant's last expiring yell? _110Yes! than love's sweetest blisses 'tis more dearTo drink the floatings of a despot's knell. I wake--'tis done--'tis over. 

NOTE:_66 ye]thou 1810. 

***

DESPAIR. 

And canst thou mock mine agony, thus calmIn cloudless radiance, Queen of silver night?Can you, ye flow'rets, spread your perfumed balmMid pearly gems of dew that shine so bright?And you wild winds, thus can you sleep so still _5Whilst throbs the tempest of my breast so high?Can the fierce night-fiends rest on yonder hill, And, in the eternal mansions of the sky, Can the directors of the storm in powerless silence lie?

Hark! I hear music on the zephyr's wing, _10Louder it floats along the unruffled sky;Some fairy sure has touched the viewless string--Now faint in distant air the murmurs die. Awhile it stills the tide of agony. Now--now it loftier swells--again stern woe _15Arises with the awakening melody. Again fierce torments, such as demons know, In bitterer, feller tide, on this torn bosom flow. 

Arise ye sightless spirits of the storm, Ye unseen minstrels of the aereal song, _20Pour the fierce tide around this lonely form, And roll the tempest's wildest swell along. Dart the red lightning, wing the forked flash, Pour from thy cloud-formed hills the thunder's roar;Arouse the whirlwind--and let ocean dash _25In fiercest tumult on the rocking shore, --Destroy this life or let earth's fabric be no more. 

Yes! every tie that links me here is dead;Mysterious Fate, thy mandate I obey, Since hope and peace, and joy, for aye are fled, _30I come, terrific power, I come away. Then o'er this ruined soul let spirits of Hell, In triumph, laughing wildly, mock its pain;And though with direst pangs mine heart-strings swell, I'll echo back their deadly yells again, _35Cursing the power that ne'er made aught in vain. 

***

FRAGMENT. 

Yes! all is past--swift time has fled away, Yet its swell pauses on my sickening mind;How long will horror nerve this frame of clay?I'm dead, and lingers yet my soul behind. Oh! powerful Fate, revoke thy deadly spell, _5And yet that may not ever, ever be, Heaven will not smile upon the work of Hell;Ah! no, for Heaven cannot smile on me;Fate, envious Fate, has sealed my wayward destiny. 

I sought the cold brink of the midnight surge, _10I sighed beneath its wave to hide my woes, The rising tempest sung a funeral dirge, And on the blast a frightful yell arose. Wild flew the meteors o'er the maddened main, Wilder did grief athwart my bosom glare; _15Stilled was the unearthly howling, and a strain, Swelled mid the tumult of the battling air, 'Twas like a spirit's song, but yet more soft and fair. 

I met a maniac--like he was to me, I said--'Poor victim, wherefore dost thou roam? _20And canst thou not contend with agony, That thus at midnight thou dost quit thine home?''Ah there she sleeps: cold is her bloodless form, And I will go to slumber in her grave;And then our ghosts, whilst raves the maddened storm, _25Will sweep at midnight o'er the wildered wave;Wilt thou our lowly beds with tears of pity lave?'

'Ah! no, I cannot shed the pitying tear, This breast is cold, this heart can feel no more--But I can rest me on thy chilling bier, _30Can shriek in horror to the tempest's roar. '

***

THE SPECTRAL HORSEMAN. 

What was the shriek that struck Fancy's earAs it sate on the ruins of time that is past?Hark! it floats on the fitful blast of the wind, And breathes to the pale moon a funeral sigh. It is the Benshie's moan on the storm, _5Or a shivering fiend that thirsting for sin, Seeks murder and guilt when virtue sleeps, Winged with the power of some ruthless king, And sweeps o'er the breast of the prostrate plain. It was not a fiend from the regions of Hell _10That poured its low moan on the stillness of night:It was not a ghost of the guilty dead, Nor a yelling vampire reeking with gore;But aye at the close of seven years' end, That voice is mixed with the swell of the storm, _15And aye at the close of seven years' end, A shapeless shadow that sleeps on the hillAwakens and floats on the mist of the heath. It is not the shade of a murdered man, Who has rushed uncalled to the throne of his God, _20And howls in the pause of the eddying storm. This voice is low, cold, hollow, and chill, 'Tis not heard by the ear, but is felt in the soul. 'Tis more frightful far than the death-daemon's scream, Or the laughter of fiends when they howl o'er the corpse _25Of a man who has sold his soul to Hell. It tells the approach of a mystic form, A white courser bears the shadowy sprite;More thin they are than the mists of the mountain, When the clear moonlight sleeps on the waveless lake. _30More pale HIS cheek than the snows of Nithona, When winter rides on the northern blast, And howls in the midst of the leafless wood. Yet when the fierce swell of the tempest is raving, And the whirlwinds howl in the caves of Inisfallen, _35Still secure mid the wildest war of the sky, The phantom courser scours the waste, And his rider howls in the thunder's roar. O'er him the fierce bolts of avenging HeavenPause, as in fear, to strike his head. _40The meteors of midnight recoil from his figure, Yet the 'wildered peasant, that oft passes by, With wonder beholds the blue flash through his form:And his voice, though faint as the sighs of the dead, The startled passenger shudders to hear, _45More distinct than the thunder's wildest roar. Then does the dragon, who, chained in the cavernsTo eternity, curses the champion of Erin, Moan and yell loud at the lone hour of midnight, And twine his vast wreaths round the forms of the daemons; _50Then in agony roll his death-swimming eyeballs, Though 'wildered by death, yet never to die!Then he shakes from his skeleton folds the nightmares, Who, shrieking in agony, seek the couchOf some fevered wretch who courts sleep in vain; _55Then the tombless ghosts of the guilty deadIn horror pause on the fitful gale. They float on the swell of the eddying tempest, And scared seek the caves of gigantic... Where their thin forms pour unearthly sounds _60On the blast that sweets the breast of the lake, And mingles its swell with the moonlight air. 

***

MELODY TO A SCENE OF FORMER TIMES. 

Art thou indeed forever gone, Forever, ever, lost to me?Must this poor bosom beat alone, Or beat at all, if not for thee?Ah! why was love to mortals given, _5To lift them to the height of Heaven, Or dash them to the depths of Hell?Yet I do not reproach thee, dear!Ah, no! the agonies that swellThis panting breast, this frenzied brain, _10Might wake my --'s slumb'ring tear. Oh! Heaven is witness I did love, And Heaven does know I love thee still, Does know the fruitless sick'ning thrill, When reason's judgement vainly strove _15To blot thee from my memory;But which might never, never be. Oh! I appeal to that blest dayWhen passion's wildest ecstasyWas coldness to the joys I knew, _20When every sorrow sunk away. Oh! I had never lived before, But now those blisses are no more. And now I cease to live again, I do not blame thee, love; ah, no! _25The breast that feels this anguished woe. Throbs for thy happiness alone. Two years of speechless bliss are gone, I thank thee, dearest, for the dream. 'Tis night--what faint and distant scream _30Comes on the wild and fitful blast?It moans for pleasures that are past, It moans for days that are gone by. Oh! lagging hours, how slow you fly!I see a dark and lengthened vale, _35The black view closes with the tomb;But darker is the lowering gloomThat shades the intervening dale. In visioned slumber for awhileI seem again to share thy smile, _40I seem to hang upon thy tone. Again you say, 'Confide in me, For I am thine, and thine alone, And thine must ever, ever be. 'But oh! awak'ning still anew, _45Athwart my enanguished senses flewA fiercer, deadlier agony!

[End of "Posthumous Fragments of Margaret Nicholson". ]

***

STANZA FROM A TRANSLATION OF THE MARSEILLAISE HYMN. 

[Published by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1876; dated 1810. ]

Tremble, Kings despised of man!Ye traitors to your Country, Tremble! Your parricidal planAt length shall meet its destiny... We all are soldiers fit to fight, _5But if we sink in glory's nightOur mother Earth will give ye newThe brilliant pathway to pursueWhich leads to Death or Victory... 

***

BIGOTRY'S VICTIM. 

[Published (without title) by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858; dated1809-10. The title is Rossetti's (1870). ]

1. Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind, The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair?When the tiger approaches can the fast-fleeting hindRepose trust in his footsteps of air?No! Abandoned he sinks in a trance of despair, _5The monster transfixes his prey, On the sand flows his life-blood away;Whilst India's rocks to his death-yells reply, Protracting the horrible harmony. 

2. Yet the fowl of the desert, when danger encroaches, _10Dares fearless to perish defending her brood, Though the fiercest of cloud-piercing tyrants approachesThirsting--ay, thirsting for blood;And demands, like mankind, his brother for food;Yet more lenient, more gentle than they; _15For hunger, not glory, the preyMust perish. Revenge does not howl in the dead. Nor ambition with fame crown the murderer's head. 

3. Though weak as the lama that bounds on the mountains, And endued not with fast-fleeting footsteps of air, _20Yet, yet will I draw from the purest of fountains, Though a fiercer than tiger is there. Though, more dreadful than death, it scatters despair, Though its shadow eclipses the day, And the darkness of deepest dismay _25Spreads the influence of soul-chilling terror around, And lowers on the corpses, that rot on the ground. 

4. They came to the fountain to draw from its streamWaves too pure, too celestial, for mortals to see;They bathed for awhile in its silvery beam, _30Then perished, and perished like me. For in vain from the grasp of the Bigot I flee;The most tenderly loved of my soulAre slaves to his hated control. He pursues me, he blasts me! 'Tis in vain that I fly: _35 -What remains, but to curse him, --to curse him and die?

***

ON AN ICICLE THAT CLUNG TO THE GRASS OF A GRAVE. 

[Published (without title) by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858; dated1809-10. The poem, with title as above, is included in the Esdailemanuscript book. ]

1. Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes, Waft repose to some bosom as faithful as fair, In which the warm current of love never freezes, As it rises unmingled with selfishness there, Which, untainted by pride, unpolluted by care, _5Might dissolve the dim icedrop, might bid it arise, Too pure for these regions, to gleam in the skies. 

2. Or where the stern warrior, his country defending, Dares fearless the dark-rolling battle to pour, Or o'er the fell corpse of a dread tyrant bending, _10Where patriotism red with his guilt-reeking gorePlants Liberty's flag on the slave-peopled shore, With victory's cry, with the shout of the free, Let it fly, taintless Spirit, to mingle with thee. 

3. For I found the pure gem, when the daybeam returning, _15Ineffectual gleams on the snow-covered plain, When to others the wished-for arrival of morningBrings relief to long visions of soul-racking pain;But regret is an insult--to grieve is in vain:And why should we grieve that a spirit so fair _20Seeks Heaven to mix with its own kindred there?

4. But still 'twas some Spirit of kindness descendingTo share in the load of mortality's woe, Who over thy lowly-built sepulchre bendingBade sympathy's tenderest teardrop to flow. _25Not for THEE soft compassion celestials did know, But if ANGELS can weep, sure MAN may repine, May weep in mute grief o'er thy low-laid shrine. 

5. And did I then say, for the altar of glory, That the earliest, the loveliest of flowers I'd entwine, _30Though with millions of blood-reeking victims 'twas gory, Though the tears of the widow polluted its shrine, Though around it the orphans, the fatherless pine?Oh! Fame, all thy glories I'd yield for a tearTo shed on the grave of a heart so sincere. _35

***

LOVE. 

[Published (without title) by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858; dated 1811. The title is Rossetti's (1870). ]

Why is it said thou canst not liveIn a youthful breast and fair, Since thou eternal life canst give, Canst bloom for ever there?Since withering pain no power possessed, _5Nor age, to blanch thy vermeil hue, Nor time's dread victor, death, confessed, Though bathed with his poison dew, Still thou retain'st unchanging bloom, Fixed tranquil, even in the tomb. _10And oh! when on the blest, reviving, The day-star dawns of love, Each energy of soul survivingMore vivid, soars above, Hast thou ne'er felt a rapturous thrill, _15Like June's warm breath, athwart thee fly, O'er each idea then to steal, When other passions die?Felt it in some wild noonday dream, When sitting by the lonely stream, _20Where Silence says, 'Mine is the dell';And not a murmur from the plain, And not an echo from the fell, Disputes her silent reign. 

***

ON A FETE AT CARLTON HOUSE: FRAGMENT. 

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870;dated 1811. ]

By the mossy brink, With me the Prince shall sit and think;Shall muse in visioned Regency, Rapt in bright dreams of dawning Royalty. 

***

TO A STAR. 

[Published (without title) by Hogg, "Life of Shelley", 1858; dated 1811. The title is Rossetti's (1870). ]

Sweet star, which gleaming o'er the darksome sceneThrough fleecy clouds of silvery radiance fliest, Spanglet of light on evening's shadowy veil, Which shrouds the day-beam from the waveless lake, Lighting the hour of sacred love; more sweet _5Than the expiring morn-star's paly fires:--Sweet star! When wearied Nature sinks to sleep, And all is hushed, --all, save the voice of Love, Whose broken murmurings swell the balmy blastOf soft Favonius, which at intervals _10Sighs in the ear of stillness, art thou aught butLulling the slaves of interest to reposeWith that mild, pitying gaze? Oh, I would lookIn thy dear beam till every bond of senseBecame enamoured-- _15

***

TO MARY WHO DIED IN THIS OPINION. 

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870;dated 1810-11. ]

1. Maiden, quench the glare of sorrowStruggling in thine haggard eye:Firmness dare to borrowFrom the wreck of destiny;For the ray morn's bloom revealing _5Can never boast so bright an hueAs that which mocks concealing, And sheds its loveliest light on you. 

2. Yet is the tie departedWhich bound thy lovely soul to bliss? _10Has it left thee broken-heartedIn a world so cold as this?Yet, though, fainting fair one, Sorrow's self thy cup has given, Dream thou'lt meet thy dear one, Never more to part, in Heaven. _15

3. Existence would I barterFor a dream so dear as thine, And smile to die a martyrOn affection's bloodless shrine. _20Nor would I change for pleasureThat withered hand and ashy cheek, If my heart enshrined a treasureSuch as forces thine to break. 

***

A TALE OF SOCIETY AS IT IS: FROM FACTS, 1811. 

[Published (from Esdaile manuscript with title as above) by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870. Rossetti's title is "Motherand Son". ]

1. She was an aged woman; and the yearsWhich she had numbered on her toilsome wayHad bowed her natural powers to decay. She was an aged woman; yet the rayWhich faintly glimmered through her starting tears, _5Pressed into light by silent misery, Hath soul's imperishable energy. She was a cripple, and incapableTo add one mite to gold-fed luxury:And therefore did her spirit dimly feel _10That poverty, the crime of tainting stain, Would merge her in its depths, never to rise again. 

2. One only son's love had supported her. She long had struggled with infirmity, Lingering to human life-scenes; for to die, _15When fate has spared to rend some mental tie, Would many wish, and surely fewer dare. But, when the tyrant's bloodhounds forced the childFor his cursed power unhallowed arms to wield--Bend to another's will--become a thing _20More senseless than the sword of battlefield--Then did she feel keen sorrow's keenest sting;And many years had passed ere comfort they would bring. 

3. For seven years did this poor woman liveIn unparticipated solitude. _25Thou mightst have seen her in the forest rudePicking the scattered remnants of its wood. If human, thou mightst then have learned to grieve. The gleanings of precarious charityHer scantiness of food did scarce supply. _30The proofs of an unspeaking sorrow dweltWithin her ghastly hollowness of eye:Each arrow of the season's change she felt. Yet still she groans, ere yet her race were run, One only hope: it was--once more to see her son. _35

4. It was an eve of June, when every starSpoke peace from Heaven to those on earth that live. She rested on the moor. 'Twas such an eveWhen first her soul began indeed to grieve:Then he was here; now he is very far. _40The sweetness of the balmy eveningA sorrow o'er her aged soul did fling, Yet not devoid of rapture's mingled tear:A balm was in the poison of the sting. This aged sufferer for many a year _45Had never felt such comfort. She suppressedA sigh--and turning round, clasped William to her breast!

5. And, though his form was wasted by the woeWhich tyrants on their victims love to wreak, Though his sunk eyeballs and his faded cheek _50Of slavery's violence and scorn did speak, Yet did the aged woman's bosom glow. The vital fire seemed re-illumed withinBy this sweet unexpected welcoming. Oh, consummation of the fondest hope _55That ever soared on Fancy's wildest wing!Oh, tenderness that foundst so sweet a scope!Prince who dost pride thee on thy mighty sway, When THOU canst feel such love, thou shalt be great as they!

6. Her son, compelled, the country's foes had fought, _60Had bled in battle; and the stern controlWhich ruled his sinews and coerced his soulUtterly poisoned life's unmingled bowl, And unsubduable evils on him brought. He was the shadow of the lusty child _65Who, when the time of summer season smiled, Did earn for her a meal of honesty, And with affectionate discourse beguiledThe keen attacks of pain and poverty;Till Power, as envying her this only joy, _70From her maternal bosom tore the unhappy boy. 

7. And now cold charity's unwelcome doleWas insufficient to support the pair;And they would perish rather than would bearThe law's stern slavery, and the insolent stare _75With which law loves to rend the poor man's soul--The bitter scorn, the spirit-sinking noiseOf heartless mirth which women, men, and boysWake in this scene of legal misery. 

... 

NOTES:_28 grieve Esdaile manuscript; feel, 1870. _37 to those on earth that live Esdaile manuscripts; omitted, 1870. 

***

TO THE REPUBLICANS OF NORTH AMERICA. 

[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript with title as above) byRossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870; dated 1812. Rossetti's title is "The Mexican Revolution". ]

1. Brothers! between you and meWhirlwinds sweep and billows roar:Yet in spirit oft I seeOn thy wild and winding shoreFreedom's bloodless banners wave, -- _5Feel the pulses of the braveUnextinguished in the grave, --See them drenched in sacred gore, --Catch the warrior's gasping breathMurmuring 'Liberty or death!' _10

2. Shout aloud! Let every slave, Crouching at Corruption's throne, Start into a man, and braveRacks and chains without a groan:And the castle's heartless glow, _15And the hovel's vice and woe, Fade like gaudy flowers that blow--Weeds that peep, and then are goneWhilst, from misery's ashes risen, Love shall burst the captive's prison. _20

3. Cotopaxi! bid the soundThrough thy sister mountains ring, Till each valley smile aroundAt the blissful welcoming!And, O thou stern Ocean deep, _25Thou whose foamy billows sweepShores where thousands wake to weepWhilst they curse a villain king, On the winds that fan thy breastBear thou news of Freedom's rest! _30

4. Can the daystar dawn of love, Where the flag of war unfurledFloats with crimson stain aboveThe fabric of a ruined world?Never but to vengeance driven _35When the patriot's spirit shrivenSeeks in death its native Heaven!There, to desolation hurled, Widowed love may watch thy bier, Balm thee with its dying tear. _40

***

TO IRELAND. 

[Published, 1-10, by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1870; 11-17, 25-28, by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; 18-24 byKingsland, "Poet-Lore", July, 1892. Dated 1812. ]

1. Bear witness, Erin! when thine injured isleSees summer on its verdant pastures smile, Its cornfields waving in the winds that sweepThe billowy surface of thy circling deep!Thou tree whose shadow o'er the Atlantic gave _5Peace, wealth and beauty, to its friendly wave, its blossoms fade, And blighted are the leaves that cast its shade;Whilst the cold hand gathers its scanty fruit, Whose chillness struck a canker to its root. _10

2. I could standUpon thy shores, O Erin, and could countThe billows that, in their unceasing swell, Dash on thy beach, and every wave might seemAn instrument in Time the giant's grasp, _15To burst the barriers of Eternity. Proceed, thou giant, conquering and to conquer;March on thy lonely way! The nations fallBeneath thy noiseless footstep; pyramidsThat for millenniums have defied the blast, _20And laughed at lightnings, thou dost crush to nought. Yon monarch, in his solitary pomp, Is but the fungus of a winter dayThat thy light footstep presses into dust. Thou art a conqueror, Time; all things give way _25Before thee but the 'fixed and virtuous will';The sacred sympathy of soul which wasWhen thou wert not, which shall be when thou perishest. 

... 

***

ON ROBERT EMMET'S GRAVE. 

[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; dated 1812. ]

... 

6. No trump tells thy virtues--the grave where they restWith thy dust shall remain unpolluted by fame, Till thy foes, by the world and by fortune caressed, Shall pass like a mist from the light of thy name. 

7. When the storm-cloud that lowers o'er the day-beam is gone, _5Unchanged, unextinguished its life-spring will shine;When Erin has ceased with their memory to groan, She will smile through the tears of revival on thine. 

***

THE RETROSPECT: CWM ELAN, 1812. 

[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887. ]

A scene, which 'wildered fancy viewedIn the soul's coldest solitude, With that same scene when peaceful loveFlings rapture's colour o'er the grove, When mountain, meadow, wood and stream _5With unalloying glory gleam, And to the spirit's ear and eyeAre unison and harmony. The moonlight was my dearer day;Then would I wander far away, _10And, lingering on the wild brook's shoreTo hear its unremitting roar, Would lose in the ideal flowAll sense of overwhelming woe;Or at the noiseless noon of night _15Would climb some heathy mountain's height, And listen to the mystic soundThat stole in fitful gasps around. I joyed to see the streaks of dayAbove the purple peaks decay, _20And watch the latest line of lightJust mingling with the shades of night;For day with me was time of woeWhen even tears refused to flow;Then would I stretch my languid frame _25Beneath the wild woods' gloomiest shade, And try to quench the ceaseless flameThat on my withered vitals preyed;Would close mine eyes and dream I wereOn some remote and friendless plain, _30And long to leave existence there, If with it I might leave the painThat with a finger cold and leanWrote madness on my withering mien. 

It was not unrequited love _35That bade my 'wildered spirit rove;'Twas not the pride disdaining life, That with this mortal world at strifeWould yield to the soul's inward sense, Then groan in human impotence, _40And weep because it is not givenTo taste on Earth the peace of Heaven. 'Twas not that in the narrow sphereWhere Nature fixed my wayward fateThere was no friend or kindred dear _45Formed to become that spirit's mate, Which, searching on tired pinion, foundBarren and cold repulse around;Oh, no! yet each one sorrow gaveNew graces to the narrow grave. _50For broken vows had early quelledThe stainless spirit's vestal flame;Yes! whilst the faithful bosom swelled, Then the envenomed arrow came, And Apathy's unaltering eye _55Beamed coldness on the misery;And early I had learned to scornThe chains of clay that bound a soulPanting to seize the wings of morn, And where its vital fires were born _60To soar, and spur the cold controlWhich the vile slaves of earthly nightWould twine around its struggling flight. 

Oh, many were the friends whom fameHad linked with the unmeaning name, _65Whose magic marked among mankindThe casket of my unknown mind, Which hidden from the vulgar glareImbibed no fleeting radiance there. My darksome spirit sought--it found _70A friendless solitude around. For who that might undaunted stand, The saviour of a sinking land, Would crawl, its ruthless tyrant's slave, And fatten upon Freedom's grave, _75Though doomed with her to perish, whereThe captive clasps abhorred despair. 

They could not share the bosom's feeling, Which, passion's every throb revealing, Dared force on the world's notice cold _80Thoughts of unprofitable mould, Who bask in Custom's fickle ray, Fit sunshine of such wintry day!They could not in a twilight walkWeave an impassioned web of talk, _85Till mysteries the spirits pressIn wild yet tender awfulness, Then feel within our narrow sphereHow little yet how great we are!But they might shine in courtly glare, _90Attract the rabble's cheapest stare, And might command where'er they moveA thing that bears the name of love;They might be learned, witty, gay, Foremost in fashion's gilt array, _95On Fame's emblazoned pages shine, Be princes' friends, but never mine!

Ye jagged peaks that frown sublime, Mocking the blunted scythe of Time, Whence I would watch its lustre pale _100Steal from the moon o'er yonder valeThou rock, whose bosom black and vast, Bared to the stream's unceasing flow, Ever its giant shade doth castOn the tumultuous surge below: _105

Woods, to whose depths retires to dieThe wounded Echo's melody, And whither this lone spirit bentThe footstep of a wild intent:

Meadows! whose green and spangled breast _110These fevered limbs have often pressed, Until the watchful fiend DespairSlept in the soothing coolness there!Have not your varied beauties seenThe sunken eye, the withering mien, _115Sad traces of the unuttered painThat froze my heart and burned my brain. How changed since Nature's summer formHad last the power my grief to charm, Since last ye soothed my spirit's sadness, _120Strange chaos of a mingled madness!Changed!--not the loathsome worm that fedIn the dark mansions of the dead, Now soaring through the fields of air, And gathering purest nectar there, _125A butterfly, whose million huesThe dazzled eye of wonder views, Long lingering on a work so strange, Has undergone so bright a change. How do I feel my happiness? _130I cannot tell, but they may guessWhose every gloomy feeling gone, Friendship and passion feel alone;Who see mortality's dull cloudsBefore affection's murmur fly, _135Whilst the mild glances of her eyePierce the thin veil of flesh that shroudsThe spirit's inmost sanctuary. O thou! whose virtues latest known, First in this heart yet claim'st a throne; _140Whose downy sceptre still shall shareThe gentle sway with virtue there;Thou fair in form, and pure in mind, Whose ardent friendship rivets fastThe flowery band our fates that bind, _145Which incorruptible shall lastWhen duty's hard and cold controlHas thawed around the burning soul, --The gloomiest retrospects that bindWith crowns of thorn the bleeding mind, _150The prospects of most doubtful hueThat rise on Fancy's shuddering view, --Are gilt by the reviving rayWhich thou hast flung upon my day. 

***

FRAGMENT OF A SONNET. 

TO HARRIET. 

[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; dated August 1, 1812. ]

Ever as now with Love and Virtue's glowMay thy unwithering soul not cease to burn, Still may thine heart with those pure thoughts o'erflowWhich force from mine such quick and warm return. 

***

TO HARRIET. 

[Published, 5-13, by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1876;58-69, by Shelley, "Notes to Queen Mab", 1813;and entire (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; dated 1812. ]

It is not blasphemy to hope that HeavenMore perfectly will give those nameless joysWhich throb within the pulses of the bloodAnd sweeten all that bitterness which EarthInfuses in the heaven-born soul. O thou _5Whose dear love gleamed upon the gloomy pathWhich this lone spirit travelled, drear and cold, Yet swiftly leading to those awful limitsWhich mark the bounds of Time and of the spaceWhen Time shall be no more; wilt thou not turn _10Those spirit-beaming eyes and look on me, Until I be assured that Earth is Heaven, And Heaven is Earth?--will not thy glowing cheek, Glowing with soft suffusion, rest on mine, And breathe magnetic sweetness through the frame _15Of my corporeal nature, through the soulNow knit with these fine fibres? I would giveThe longest and the happiest day that fateHas marked on my existence but to feelONE soul-reviving kiss... O thou most dear, _20'Tis an assurance that this Earth is Heaven, And Heaven the flower of that untainted seedWhich springeth here beneath such love as ours. Harriet! let death all mortal ties dissolve, But ours shall not be mortal! The cold hand _25Of Time may chill the love of earthly mindsHalf frozen now; the frigid intercourseOf common souls lives but a summer's day;It dies, where it arose, upon this earth. But ours! oh, 'tis the stretch of Fancy's hope _30To portray its continuance as now, Warm, tranquil, spirit-healing; nor when ageHas tempered these wild ecstasies, and givenA soberer tinge to the luxurious glowWhich blazing on devotion's pinnacle _35Makes virtuous passion supersede the powerOf reason; nor when life's aestival sunTo deeper manhood shall have ripened me;Nor when some years have added judgement's storeTo all thy woman sweetness, all the fire _40Which throbs in thine enthusiast heart; not thenShall holy friendship (for what other nameMay love like ours assume?), not even thenShall Custom so corrupt, or the cold formsOf this desolate world so harden us, _45As when we think of the dear love that bindsOur souls in soft communion, while we knowEach other's thoughts and feelings, can we sayUnblushingly a heartless compliment, Praise, hate, or love with the unthinking world, _50Or dare to cut the unrelaxing nerveThat knits our love to virtue. Can those eyes, Beaming with mildest radiance on my heartTo purify its purity, e'er bendTo soothe its vice or consecrate its fears? _55Never, thou second Self! Is confidenceSo vain in virtue that I learn to doubtThe mirror even of Truth? Dark flood of Time, Roll as it listeth thee; I measure notBy month or moments thy ambiguous course. _60Another may stand by me on thy brink, And watch the bubble whirled beyond his ken, Which pauses at my feet. The sense of love, The thirst for action, and the impassioned thoughtProlong my being; if I wake no more, _65My life more actual living will containThan some gray veteran's of the world's cold school, Whose listless hours unprofitably rollBy one enthusiast feeling unredeemed, Virtue and Love! unbending Fortitude, _70Freedom, Devotedness and Purity!That life my Spirit consecrates to you. 

***

SONNET. 

TO A BALLOON LADEN WITH KNOWLEDGE. 

[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; dated August, 1812. ]

Bright ball of flame that through the gloom of evenSilently takest thine aethereal way, And with surpassing glory dimm'st each rayTwinkling amid the dark blue depths of Heaven, --Unlike the fire thou bearest, soon shalt thou _5Fade like a meteor in surrounding gloom, Whilst that, unquenchable, is doomed to glowA watch-light by the patriot's lonely tomb;A ray of courage to the oppressed and poor;A spark, though gleaming on the hovel's hearth, _10Which through the tyrant's gilded domes shall roar;A beacon in the darkness of the Earth;A sun which, o'er the renovated scene, Shall dart like Truth where Falsehood yet has been. 

***

SONNET. 

ON LAUNCHING SOME BOTTLES FILLED WITH KNOWLEDGE INTO THE BRISTOL CHANNEL. 

[Published from the Esdaile manuscript book by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; dated August, 1812. ]

Vessels of heavenly medicine! may the breezeAuspicious waft your dark green forms to shore;Safe may ye stem the wide surrounding roarOf the wild whirlwinds and the raging seas;And oh! if Liberty e'er deigned to stoop _5From yonder lowly throne her crownless brow, Sure she will breathe around your emerald groupThe fairest breezes of her West that blow. Yes! she will waft ye to some freeborn soulWhose eye-beam, kindling as it meets your freight, _10Her heaven-born flame in suffering Earth will light, Until its radiance gleams from pole to pole, And tyrant-hearts with powerless envy burstTo see their night of ignorance dispersed. 

***

THE DEVIL'S WALK. 

A BALLAD. 

[Published as a broadside by Shelley, 1812. ]

1. Once, early in the morning, Beelzebub arose, With care his sweet person adorning, He put on his Sunday clothes. 

2. He drew on a boot to hide his hoof, _5He drew on a glove to hide his claw, His horns were concealed by a Bras Chapeau, And the Devil went forth as natty a BeauAs Bond-street ever saw. 

3. He sate him down, in London town, _10Before earth's morning ray;With a favourite imp he began to chat, On religion, and scandal, this and that, Until the dawn of day. 

4. And then to St. James's Court he went, _15And St. Paul's Church he took on his way;He was mighty thick with every Saint, Though they were formal and he was gay. 

5. The Devil was an agriculturist, And as bad weeds quickly grow, _20In looking over his farm, I wist, He wouldn't find cause for woe. 

6. He peeped in each hole, to each chamber stole, His promising live-stock to view;Grinning applause, he just showed them his claws, _25And they shrunk with affright from his ugly sight, Whose work they delighted to do. 

7. Satan poked his red nose into crannies so smallOne would think that the innocents fair, Poor lambkins! were just doing nothing at all _30But settling some dress or arranging some ball, But the Devil saw deeper there. 

8. A Priest, at whose elbow the Devil during prayerSate familiarly, side by side, Declared that, if the Tempter were there, _35His presence he would not abide. Ah! ah! thought Old Nick, that's a very stale trick, For without the Devil, O favourite of Evil, In your carriage you would not ride. 

9. Satan next saw a brainless King, _40Whose house was as hot as his own;Many Imps in attendance were there on the wing, They flapped the pennon and twisted the sting, Close by the very Throne. 

10. Ah! ah! thought Satan, the pasture is good, _45My Cattle will here thrive better than others;They dine on news of human blood, They sup on the groans of the dying and dead, And supperless never will go to bed;Which will make them fat as their brothers. _50

11. Fat as the Fiends that feed on blood, Fresh and warm from the fields of Spain, Where Ruin ploughs her gory way, Where the shoots of earth are nipped in the bud, Where Hell is the Victor's prey, _55Its glory the meed of the slain. 

12. Fat--as the Death-birds on Erin's shore, That glutted themselves in her dearest gore, And flitted round Castlereagh, When they snatched the Patriot's heart, that HIS grasp _60Had torn from its widow's maniac clasp, --And fled at the dawn of day. 

13. Fat--as the Reptiles of the tomb, That riot in corruption's spoil, That fret their little hour in gloom, _65And creep, and live the while. 

14. Fat as that Prince's maudlin brain, Which, addled by some gilded toy, Tired, gives his sweetmeat, and againCries for it, like a humoured boy. _70

15. For he is fat, --his waistcoat gay, When strained upon a levee day, Scarce meets across his princely paunch;And pantaloons are like half-moonsUpon each brawny haunch. _75

16. How vast his stock of calf! when plentyHad filled his empty head and heart, Enough to satiate foplings twenty, Could make his pantaloon seams start. 

17. The Devil (who sometimes is called Nature), _80For men of power provides thus well, Whilst every change and every feature, Their great original can tell. 

18. Satan saw a lawyer a viper slay, That crawled up the leg of his table, _85It reminded him most marvellouslyOf the story of Cain and Abel. 

19. The wealthy yeoman, as he wandersHis fertile fields among, And on his thriving cattle ponders, _90Counts his sure gains, and hums a song;Thus did the Devil, through earth walking, Hum low a hellish song. 

20. For they thrive well whose garb of goreIs Satan's choicest livery, _95And they thrive well who from the poorHave snatched the bread of penury, And heap the houseless wanderer's storeOn the rank pile of luxury. 

21. The Bishops thrive, though they are big; _100The Lawyers thrive, though they are thin;For every gown, and every wig, Hides the safe thrift of Hell within. 

22. Thus pigs were never counted clean, Although they dine on finest corn; _105And cormorants are sin-like lean, Although they eat from night to morn. 

23. Oh! why is the Father of Hell in such glee, As he grins from ear to ear?Why does he doff his clothes joyfully, _110As he skips, and prances, and flaps his wing, As he sidles, leers, and twirls his sting, And dares, as he is, to appear?

24. A statesman passed--alone to him, The Devil dare his whole shape uncover, _115To show each feature, every limb, Secure of an unchanging lover. 

25. At this known sign, a welcome sight, The watchful demons sought their King, And every Fiend of the Stygian night, _120Was in an instant on the wing. 

26. Pale Loyalty, his guilt-steeled brow, With wreaths of gory laurel crowned:The hell-hounds, Murder, Want and Woe, Forever hungering, flocked around; _125From Spain had Satan sought their food, 'Twas human woe and human blood!

27. Hark! the earthquake's crash I hear, --Kings turn pale, and Conquerors start, Ruffians tremble in their fear, _130For their Satan doth depart. 

28. This day Fiends give to revelryTo celebrate their King's return, And with delight its Sire to seeHell's adamantine limits burn. _135

29. But were the Devil's sight as keenAs Reason's penetrating eye, His sulphurous Majesty I ween, Would find but little cause for joy. 

30. For the sons of Reason see _140That, ere fate consume the Pole, The false Tyrant's cheek shall beBloodless as his coward soul. 

NOTE:_55 Where cj. Rossetti; When 1812. 

***

FRAGMENT OF A SONNET. 

FAREWELL TO NORTH DEVON. 

[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; dated August, 1812. ]

Where man's profane and tainting handNature's primaeval loveliness has marred, And some few souls of the high bliss debarredWhich else obey her powerful command;... Mountain piles _5That load in grandeur Cambria's emerald vales. 

***

ON LEAVING LONDON FOR WALES. 

[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887; dated November, 1812. ]

Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered windWhich from thy wilds even now methinks I feel, Chasing the clouds that roll in wrath behind, And tightening the soul's laxest nerves to steel;True mountain Liberty alone may heal _5The pain which Custom's obduracies bring, And he who dares in fancy even to stealOne draught from Snowdon's ever sacred springBlots out the unholiest rede of worldly witnessing. 

And shall that soul, to selfish peace resigned, _10So soon forget the woe its fellows share?Can Snowdon's Lethe from the free-born mindSo soon the page of injured penury tear?Does this fine mass of human passion dareTo sleep, unhonouring the patriot's fall, _15Or life's sweet load in quietude to bearWhile millions famish even in Luxury's hall, And Tyranny, high raised, stern lowers on all?

No, Cambria! never may thy matchless valesA heart so false to hope and virtue shield; _20Nor ever may thy spirit-breathing galesWaft freshness to the slaves who dare to yield. For me!... The weapon that I burn to wieldI seek amid thy rocks to ruin hurled, That Reason's flag may over Freedom's field, _25Symbol of bloodless victory, wave unfurled, A meteor-sign of love effulgent o'er the world. 

... 

Do thou, wild Cambria, calm each struggling thought;Cast thy sweet veil of rocks and woods between, That by the soul to indignation wrought _30Mountains and dells be mingled with the scene;Let me forever be what I have been, But not forever at my needy doorLet Misery linger speechless, pale and lean;I am the friend of the unfriended poor, -- _35Let me not madly stain their righteous cause in gore. 

***

THE WANDERING JEW'S SOLILOQUY. 

[Published (from the Esdaile manuscript book) by Bertram Dobell, 1887. ]

Is it the Eternal Triune, is it HeWho dares arrest the wheels of destinyAnd plunge me in the lowest Hell of Hells?Will not the lightning's blast destroy my frame?Will not steel drink the blood-life where it swells? _5No--let me hie where dark Destruction dwells, To rouse her from her deeply caverned lair, And, taunting her cursed sluggishness to ire, Light long Oblivion's death-torch at its flameAnd calmly mount Annihilation's pyre. _10Tyrant of Earth! pale Misery's jackal Thou!Are there no stores of vengeful violent fateWithin the magazines of Thy fierce hate?No poison in the clouds to bathe a browThat lowers on Thee with desperate contempt? _15Where is the noonday Pestilence that slewThe myriad sons of Israel's favoured nation?Where the destroying Minister that flewPouring the fiery tide of desolationUpon the leagued Assyrian's attempt? _20Where the dark Earthquake-daemon who engorgedAt the dread word Korah's unconscious crew?Or the Angel's two-edged sword of fire that urgedOur primal parents from their bower of bliss(Reared by Thine hand) for errors not their own _25By Thine omniscient mind foredoomed, foreknown?Yes! I would court a ruin such as this, Almighty Tyrant! and give thanks to Thee--Drink deeply--drain the cup of hate; remit this--I may die. 

***

EVENING. 

TO HARRIET. 

[Published by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887. Composed July 31, 1813. ]

O thou bright Sun! beneath the dark blue lineOf western distance that sublime descendest, And, gleaming lovelier as thy beams decline, Thy million hues to every vapour lendest, And, over cobweb lawn and grove and stream _5Sheddest the liquid magic of thy light, Till calm Earth, with the parting splendour bright, Shows like the vision of a beauteous dream;What gazer now with astronomic eyeCould coldly count the spots within thy sphere? _10Such were thy lover, Harriet, could he flyThe thoughts of all that makes his passion dear, And, turning senseless from thy warm caress, --Pick flaws in our close-woven happiness. 

***

TO IANTHE. 

[Published by Dowden, "Life of Shelley", 1887. Composed September, 1813. ]

I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake;Those azure eyes, that faintly dimpled cheek, Thy tender frame, so eloquently weak, Love in the sternest heart of hate might wake;But more when o'er thy fitful slumber bending _5Thy mother folds thee to her wakeful heart, Whilst love and pity, in her glances blending, All that thy passive eyes can feel impart:More, when some feeble lineaments of her, Who bore thy weight beneath her spotless bosom, _10As with deep love I read thy face, recur, --More dear art thou, O fair and fragile blossom;Dearest when most thy tender traits expressThe image of thy mother's loveliness. 

***

SONG FROM THE WANDERING JEW. 

[Published as Shelley's by Medwin, "Life of Shelley", 1847, 1 page 58. ]

See yon opening flowerSpreads its fragrance to the blast;It fades within an hour, Its decay is pale--is fast. Paler is yon maiden; _5Faster is her heart's decay;Deep with sorrow laden, She sinks in death away. 

***

FRAGMENT FROM THE WANDERING JEW. 

[Published as Shelley's by Medwin, "Life of Shelley", 1847, 1 page 56. ]

The Elements respect their Maker's seal!Still Like the scathed pine tree's height, Braving the tempests of the nightHave I 'scaped the flickering flame. Like the scathed pine, which a monument stands _5Of faded grandeur, which the brandsOf the tempest-shaken airHave riven on the desolate heath;Yet it stands majestic even in death, And rears its wild form there. _10, ***

TO THE QUEEN OF MY HEART. 

[Published as Shelley's by Medwin, "The Shelley Papers", 1833, and byMrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition; afterwards suppressedas of doubtful authenticity. ]

1. Shall we roam, my love, To the twilight grove, When the moon is rising bright;Oh, I'll whisper there, In the cool night-air, _5What I dare not in broad daylight!

2. I'll tell thee a partOf the thoughts that startTo being when thou art nigh;And thy beauty, more bright _10Than the stars' soft light, Shall seem as a weft from the sky. 

3. When the pale moonbeamOn tower and streamSheds a flood of silver sheen, _15How I love to gazeAs the cold ray straysO'er thy face, my heart's throned queen!

4. Wilt thou roam with meTo the restless sea, _20And linger upon the steep, And list to the flowOf the waves belowHow they toss and roar and leap?

5. Those boiling waves, _25And the storm that ravesAt night o'er their foaming crest, Resemble the strifeThat, from earliest life, The passions have waged in my breast. _30

6. Oh, come then, and roveTo the sea or the grove, When the moon is rising bright;And I'll whisper there, In the cool night-air, _35What I dare not in broad daylight. 

***

NOTES ON THE TEXT AND ITS PUNCTUATION. 

In the case of every poem published during Shelley's lifetime, the textof this edition is based upon that of the editio princeps or earliestissue. Wherever our text deviates verbally from this exemplar, the wordor words of the editio princeps will be found recorded in a footnote. Inlike manner, wherever the text of the poems first printed by Mrs. Shelley in the "Posthumous Poems" of 1824 or the "Poetical Works" of1839 is modified by manuscript authority or otherwise, the reading ofthe earliest printed text has been subjoined in a footnote. Shelley'spunctuation--or what may be presumed to be his--has been retained, savein the case of errors (whether of the transcriber or the printer)overlooked in the revision of the proof-sheets, and of a few placeswhere the pointing, though certainly or seemingly Shelley's, tends toobscure the sense or grammatical construction. In the following notesthe more important textual difficulties are briefly discussed, and thereadings embodied in the text of this edition, it is hoped, sufficientlyjustified. An attempt has also been made to record the originalpunctuation where it is here departed from. 

1. THE DAEMON OF THE WORLD: PART 1. 

The following paragraph, relating to this poem, closes Shelley's"Preface" to "Alastor", etc. , 1816:--'The Fragment entitled "The Daemonof the World" is a detached part of a poem which the author does notintend for publication. The metre in which it is composed is that of"Samson Agonistes" and the Italian pastoral drama, and may be consideredas the natural measure into which poetical conceptions, expressed inharmonious language, necessarily fall. '

2. Lines 56, 112, 184, 288. The editor has added a comma at the end ofthese lines, and a period (for the comma of 1816) after by, line 279. 

3. Lines 167, 168. The editio princeps has a comma after And, line 167, andheaven, line 168. 

1. THE DAEMON OF THE WORLD: PART 2. 

Printed by Mr. Forman from a copy in his possession of "Queen Mab", corrected by Shelley's hand. See "The Shelley Library", pages 36-44, fora detailed history and description of this copy. 

2. Lines 436-438. Mr. Forman prints:--Which from the exhaustless lore of human wealDraws on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that riseIn time-destroying infiniteness, gift, etc. Our text exhibits both variants--lore for 'store, ' and Dawns for'Draws'--found in Shelley's note on the corresponding passage of "QueenMab" (8 204-206). See editor's note on this passage. Shelley's commaafter infiniteness, line 438, is omitted as tending to obscure theconstruction. 

1. ALASTOR; OR THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE. 

"Preface". For the concluding paragraph see editor's noteon "The Daemon of the World": Part 1. 

2. Conducts, O Sleep, to thy, etc. (line 219. )The Shelley texts, 1816, 1824, 1839, have Conduct here, which Forman andDowden retain. The suggestion that Shelley may have written 'death'sblue vaults' (line 216) need not, in the face of 'the dark gate ofdeath' (line 211), be seriously considered; Conduct must, therefore, beregarded as a fault in grammar. That Shelley actually wrote Conduct isnot impossible, for his grammar is not seldom faulty (see, for instance, "Revolt of Islam, Dedication", line 60); but it is most improbable thathe would have committed a solecism so striking both to eye and ear. Rossetti and Woodberry print Conducts, etc. The final s is often avanishing quantity in Shelley's manuscripts. Or perhaps the compositor'shand was misled by his eye, which may have dropped on the words, Conductto thy, etc. , seven lines above. 

3. Of wave ruining on wave, etc. (line 327. )For ruining the text of "Poetical Works", 1839, both editions, hasrunning--an overlooked misprint, surely, rather than a conjecturalemendation. For an example of ruining as an intransitive (= 'falling inruins, ' or, simply, 'falling in streams') see "Paradise Lost", 6867-869:--Hell heard th' insufferable noise, Hell sawHeav'n ruining from Heav'n, and would have fledAffrighted, etc. Ruining, in the sense of 'streaming, ' 'trailing, ' occurs in Coleridge's"Melancholy: a Fragment" (Sibylline Leaves, 1817, page 262):--Where ruining ivies propped the ruins steep--"Melancholy" first appeared in "The Morning Post", December 7, 1797, where, through an error identical with that here assumed in the text of1839, running appears in place of ruining--the word intended, anddoubtless written, by Coleridge. 

4. Line 349. With Mr. Stopford Brooke, the editor substitutes here a colonfor the full stop which, in editions 1816, 1824, and 1839, followsocean. Forman and Dowden retain the full stop; Rossetti and Woodberrysubstitute a semicolon. 

5. And nought but gnarled roots of ancient pinesBranchless and blasted, clenched with grasping rootsThe unwilling soil. (lines 530-532. )Editions 1816, 1824, and 1839 have roots (line 530)--a palpablemisprint, the probable origin of which may be seen in the line whichfollows. Rossetti conjectures trunks, but stumps or stems may have beenShelley's word. 

6. Lines 543-548. This somewhat involved passage is here reprinted exactlyas it stands in the editio princeps, save for the comma after and, line546, first introduced by Dowden, 1890. The construction and meaning arefully discussed by Forman ("Poetical Works" of Shelley, edition 1876, volume 1 pages 39, 40), Stopford Brooke ("Poems of Shelley", G. T. S. , 1880, page 323), Dobell ("Alastor", etc. , Facsimile Reprint, 2nd edition1887, pages 22-27), and Woodberry ("Complete P. W. Of Shelley", 1893, volume 1 page 413). 

1. THE REVOLT OF ISLAM. 

The revised text (1818) of this poem is given here, as being that whichShelley actually published. In order to reconvert the text of "TheRevolt of Islam" into that of "Laon and Cythna", the reader must makethe following alterations in the text. At the end of the "Preface"add:--

'In the personal conduct of my Hero and Heroine, there is onecircumstance which was intended to startle the reader from the trance ofordinary life. It was my object to break through the crust of thoseoutworn opinions on which established institutions depend. I haveappealed therefore to the most universal of all feelings, and haveendeavoured to strengthen the moral sense, by forbidding it to waste itsenergies in seeking to avoid actions which are only crimes ofconvention. It is because there is so great a multitude of artificialvices that there are so few real virtues. Those feelings alone which arebenevolent or malevolent, are essentially good or bad. The circumstanceof which I speak was introduced, however, merely to accustom men to thatcharity and toleration which the exhibition of a practice widelydiffering from their own has a tendency to promote. (The sentimentsconnected with and characteristic of this circumstance have no personalreference to the Writer. --[Shelley's Note. ]) Nothing indeed can be moremischievous than many actions, innocent in themselves, which might bringdown upon individuals the bigoted contempt and rage of the multitude. '

2 21 1:I had a little sister whose fair eyes

2 25 2:To love in human life, this sister sweet, 3 1 1:What thoughts had sway over my sister's slumber

3 1 3:As if they did ten thousand years outnumber

4 30 6:And left it vacant--'twas her brother's face--

5 47 5:I had a brother once, but he is dead!--

6 24 8:My own sweet sister looked), with joy did quail, 6 31 6:The common blood which ran within our frames, 6 39 6-9:With such close sympathies, for to each otherHad high and solemn hopes, the gentle mightOf earliest love, and all the thoughts which smotherCold Evil's power, now linked a sister and a brother. 

6 40 1:And such is Nature's modesty, that those

8 4 9:Dream ye that God thus builds for man in solitude?

8 5 1:What then is God? Ye mock yourselves and give

8 6 1:What then is God? Some moonstruck sophist stood

8 6 8, 9:And that men say God has appointed DeathOn all who scorn his will to wreak immortal wrath. 

8 7 1-4:Men say they have seen God, and heard from God, Or known from others who have known such things, And that his will is all our law, a rodTo scourge us into slaves--that Priests and Kings

8 8 1:And it is said, that God will punish wrong;

8 8 3, 4:And his red hell's undying snakes amongWill bind the wretch on whom he fixed a stain

8 13 3, 4:For it is said God rules both high and low, And man is made the captive of his brother;

9 13 8:To curse the rebels. To their God did they

9 14 6:By God, and Nature, and Necessity. 

9 15. The stanza contains ten lines--lines 4-7 as follows:There was one teacher, and must ever be, They said, even God, who, the necessityOf rule and wrong had armed against mankind, His slave and his avenger there to be;

9 18 3-6:And Hell and Awe, which in the heart of manIs God itself; the Priests its downfall knew, As day by day their altars lovelier grew, Till they were left alone within the fane;

10 22 9:On fire! Almighty God his hell on earth has spread!

10 26 7, 8:Of their Almighty God, the armies windIn sad procession: each among the train

10 28 1:O God Almighty! thou alone hast power. 

10 31 1:And Oromaze, and Christ, and Mahomet, 10 32 1:He was a Christian Priest from whom it came

10 32 4:To quell the rebel Atheists; a dire guest

10 32 9:To wreak his fear of God in vengeance on mankind

10 34 5, 6:His cradled Idol, and the sacrificeOf God to God's own wrath--that Islam's creed

10 35 9:And thrones, which rest on faith in God, nigh overturned. 

10 39 4:Of God may be appeased. He ceased, and they

10 40 5:With storms and shadows girt, sate God, alone, 10 44 9:As 'hush! hark! Come they yet?God, God, thine hour is near!'

10 45 8:Men brought their atheist kindred to appease

10 47 6:The threshold of God's throne, and it was she!

11 16 1:Ye turn to God for aid in your distress;

11 25 7:Swear by your dreadful God. '--'We swear, we swear!'

12 10 9:Truly for self, thus thought that Christian Priest indeed, 12 11 9:A woman? God has sent his other victim here. 

12 12 6-8:Will I stand up before God's golden throne, And cry, 'O Lord, to thee did I betrayAn Atheist; but for me she would have known

12 29 4:In torment and in fire have Atheists gone;

12 30 4:How Atheists and Republicans can die;

2. Aught but a lifeless clod, until revived by thee (Dedic. 6 9). 

So Rossetti; the Shelley editions, 1818 and 1839, read clog, which isretained by Forman, Dowden, and Woodberry. Rossetti's happy conjecture, clod, seems to Forman 'a doubtful emendation, as Shelley may have usedclog in its [figurative] sense of weight, encumbrance. '--Hardly, ashere, in a poetical figure: that would be to use a metaphor within ametaphor. Shelley compares his heart to a concrete object: if clog isright, the word must be taken in one or other of its two recognizedLITERAL senses--'a wooden shoe, ' or 'a block of wood tied round the neckor to the leg of a horse or a dog. ' Again, it is of others' hearts, notof his own, that Shelley here deplores the icy coldness and weight;besides, how could he appropriately describe his heart as a weight orencumbrance upon the free play of impulse and emotion, seeing that forShelley, above all men, the heart was itself the main source and springof all feeling and action? That source, he complains, has been driedup--its emotions desiccated--by the crushing impact of other hearts, heavy, hard and cold as stone. His heart has become withered and barren, like a lump of earth parched with frost--'a lifeless clod. ' Compare"Summer and Winter", lines 11-15:-- 'It was a winter such as when birds die In the deep forests; and the fishes lie Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes A wrinkled clod as hard as brick;' etc. , etc. 

The word revived suits well with clod; but what is a revived clog?Finally, the first two lines of the following stanza (7) seem decisivein favour of Roseetti's word. 

If any one wonders how a misprint overlooked in 1818 could, aftertwenty-one years, still remain undiscovered in 1839, let him considerthe case of clog in Lamb's parody on Southey's and Coleridge's "Dactyls"(Lamb, "Letter to Coleridge", July 1, 1796):-- Sorely your Dactyls do drag along limp-footed; Sad is the measure that hangs a clog round 'em so, etc. , etc. 

Here the misprint, clod, which in 1868 appeared in Moxon's edition ofthe "Letters of Charles Lamb", has through five successive editions andunder many editors--including Fitzgerald, Ainger, and Macdonald--heldits ground even to the present day; and this, notwithstanding thepreservation of the true reading, clog, in the texts of Talfourd andCarew Hazlitt. Here then is the case of a palpable misprint surviving, despite positive external evidence of its falsity, over a period ofthirty-six years. 

3. And walked as free, etc. (Ded. 7 6). 

Walked is one of Shelley's occasional grammatical laxities. Forman wellobserves that walkedst, the right word here, would naturally seem toShelley more heinous than a breach of syntactic rule. Rossetti and, after him, Dowden print walk. Forman and Woodberry follow the earlytexts. 

4. 1 9 1-7. Here the text follows the punctuation of the editio princeps, 1818, with two exceptions: a comma is inserted (1) after scale (line201), on the authority of the Bodleian manuscript (Locock); and (2)after neck (line 205), to indicate the true construction. Mrs. Shelley'stext, 1839, has a semicolon after plumes (line 203), which Rossettiadopts. Forman (1892) departs from the pointing of Shelley's editionhere, placing a period at the close of line 199, and a dash afterblended (line 200). 

5. What life, what power, was, etc. (1 11 1. )The editio princeps, 1818, wants the commas here. 

6.... And nowWe are embarked--the mountains hang and frownOver the starry deep that gleams below, A vast and dim expanse, as o'er the waves we go. (1 23 6-9. )With Woodberry I substitute after embarked (7) a dash for the comma ofthe editio princeps; with Rossetti I restore to below (8) a comma whichI believe to have been overlooked by the printer of that edition. Shelley's meaning I take to be that 'a vast and dim expanse of mountainhangs frowning over the starry deep that gleams below it as we pass overthe waves. '

7. As King, and Lord, and God, the conquering Fiend did own, --(1 28 9. )So Forman (1892), Dowden; the editio princeps, has a full stop at theclose of the line, --where, according to Mr. Locock, no point appears inthe Bodleian manuscript. 

8. Black-winged demon forms, etc. (1 30 7. )The Bodleian manuscript exhibits the requisite hyphen here, and ingolden-pinioned (32 2). 

9. 1 31 2, 6. The 'three-dots' point, employed by Shelley to indicate apause longer than that of a full stop, is introduced into these twolines on the authority of the Bodleian manuscript. In both cases itreplaces a dash in the editio princeps. See list of punctual variationsbelow. Mr. Locock reports the presence in the manuscript of what hejustly terms a 'characteristic' comma after Soon (31 2). 

10.... Mine shook beneath the wide emotion. (1 38 9. )For emotion the Bodleian manuscript has commotion (Locock)--perhaps thefitter word here. 

11. Deep slumber fell on me:--my dreams were fire-- (1 40 1. )The dash after fire is from the Bodleian manuscript, --where, moreover, the somewhat misleading but indubitably Shelleyan comma after passion(editio princeps, 40 4) is wanting (Locock). I have added a dash to thecomma after cover (40 5) in order to clarify the sense. 

12. And shared in fearless deeds with evil men, (1 44 4. )With Forman and Dowden I substitute here a comma for the full stop ofthe editio princeps. See also list of punctual variations below (stanza44). 

13. The Spirit whom I loved, in solitudeSustained his child: (1 45 4, 5. )The comma here, important as marking the sense as well as the rhythm ofthe passage, is derived from the Bodleian manuscript (Locock). 

14. I looked, and we were sailing pleasantly, Swift as a cloud between the sea and sky;Beneath the rising moon seen far away, Mountains of ice, etc. (1 47 4-7. )The editio princeps has a comma after sky (5) and a semicolon after away(6)--a pointing followed by Forman, Dowden, and Woodberry. Bytransposing these points (as in our text), however, a much better senseis obtained; and, luckily, this better sense proves to be that yieldedby the Bodleian manuscript, where, Mr. Locock reports, there is asemicolon after sky (5), a comma after moon (6), and no point whatsoeverafter away (6). 

15. Girt by the deserts of the Universe; (1 50 4. )So the Bodleian manuscript, anticipated by Woodberry (1893). Rossetti(1870) had substituted a comma for the period of editio princeps. 

16. Hymns which my soul had woven to Freedom, strongThe source of passion, whence they rose, to be;Triumphant strains, which, etc. (2 28 6-8. )The editio princeps, followed by Forman, has passion whence (7). Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works" 1839, both editions, prints: strong The sourceof passion, whence they rose to be Triumphant strains, which, etc. 

17. But, pale, were calm with passion--thus subdued, etc. (2 49 6. )With Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry, I add a comma after But to thepointing of the editio princeps. Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, both editions, prints: But pale, were calm. --With passion thus subdued, etc. 

18. Methought that grate was lifted, etc. (3 25 1. )Shelley's and Mrs. Shelley's editions have gate, which is retained byForman. But cf. 3 14 2, 7. Dowden and Woodberry follow Rossetti inprinting grate. 

19. Where her own standard, etc. (4 24 5. )So Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, both editions. 

20. Beneath whose spires, which swayed in the red flame, (5 54 6. )Shelley's and Mrs. Shelley's editions (1818, 1839) give red lighthere, --an oversight perpetuated by Forman, the rhyme-words name (8) andframe (9) notwithstanding. With Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry, I print redflame, --an obvious emendation proposed by Fleay. 

21. --when the waves smile, As sudden earthquakes light many a volcano-isle, Thus sudden, unexpected feast was spread, etc. (6 7 8, 9; 8 1. )With Forman, Dowden, Woodberry, I substitute after isle (7 9) a commafor the full stop of editions 1818, 1839 (retained by Rossetti). Thepassage is obscure: perhaps Shelley wrote 'lift many a volcano-isle. 'The plain becomes studded in an instant with piles of corpses, even asthe smiling surface of the sea will sometimes become studded in aninstant with many islands uplifted by a sudden shock of earthquake. 

22. 7 7 2-6. The editio princeps punctuates thus:--and words it gaveGestures and looks, such as in whirlwinds boreWhich might not be withstood, whence none could saveAll who approached their sphere, like some calm waveVexed into whirlpools by the chasms beneath;This punctuation is retained by Forman; Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry, place a comma after gave (2) and Gestures (3), and--adopting thesuggestion of Mr. A. C. Bradley--enclose line 4 (Which might... Couldsave) in parentheses; thus construing which might not be withstood andwhence none could save as adjectival clauses qualifying whirlwinds (3), and taking bore (3) as a transitive verb governing All who approachedtheir sphere (5). This, which I believe to be the true construction, isperhaps indicated quite as clearly by the pointing adopted in thetext--a pointing moreover which, on metrical grounds, is, I think, preferable to that proposed by Mr. Bradley. I have added a dash to thecomma after sphere (5), to indicate that it is Cythna herself (and notAll who approached, etc. ) that resembles some calm wave, etc. 

23. Which dwell in lakes, when the red moon on highPause ere it wakens tempest;-- (7 22 6, 7. )Here when the moon Pause is clearly irregular, but it appears ineditions 1818, 1839, and is undoubtedly Shelley's phrase. Rossetti citesa conjectural emendation by a certain 'C. D. Campbell, Mauritius':--whichthe red moon on high Pours eve it wakens tempest; but cf. "Julian andMaddalo", lines 53, 54:--Meanwhile the sun paused ere it should alight, Over the horizon of the mountains. --and "Prince Athanase", lines 220, 221:--When the curved moon then lingering in the westPaused, in yon waves her mighty horns to wet, etc. 

24. --time impartedSuch power to me--I became fearless-hearted, etc. (7 30 4, 5. )With Woodberry I replace with a dash the comma (editio princeps) afterme (5)retained by Forman, deleted by Rossetti and Dowden. Shelley's (andForman's) punctuation leaves the construction ambiguous; withWoodberry's the two clauses are seen to be parallel--the latter beingappositive to and explanatory of the former; while with Dowden's theclauses are placed in correlation: time imparted such power to me that Ibecame fearless-hearted. 

25. Of love, in that lorn solitude, etc. (7 32 7. )All editions prior to 1876 have lone solitude, etc. The importantemendation lorn was first introduced into the text by Forman, fromShelley's revised copy of "Laon and Cythna", where lone is found to beturned into lorn by the poet's own hand. 

26. And Hate is throned on high with Fear her mother, etc. (8 13 5. )So the editio princeps; Forman, Dowden, Woodberry, following the text of"Laon and Cythna", 1818, read, Fear his mother. Forman refers to 10 424, 5, where Fear figures as a female, and Hate as 'her mate and foe. 'But consistency in such matters was not one of Shelley'scharacteristics, and there seems to be no need for alteration here. Mrs. Shelley (1839) and Rossetti follow the editio princeps. 

27. The ship fled fast till the stars 'gan to fail, And, round me gathered, etc. (8 26 5, 6. )The editio princeps has no comma after And (6). Mrs. Shelley (1839)places a full stop at fail (5) and reads, All round me gathered, etc. 

28. Words which the lore of truth in hues of flame, etc. (9 12 6. )The editio princeps, followed by Rossetti and Woodberry, has hues ofgrace [cf. Note (20) above]; Forman and Dowden read hues of flame. Forinstances of a rhyme-word doing double service, see 9 34 6, 9(thee... Thee); 6 3 2, 4 (arms... Arms); 10 5 1, 3 (came... Came). 

29. Led them, thus erring, from their native land; (10 5 6. )Editions 1818, 1839 read home for land here. All modern editors adoptFleay's cj. , land [rhyming with band (8), sand (9)]. 

30. 11 11 7. Rossetti and Dowden, following Mrs. Shelley (1839), printwrithed here. 

31. When the broad sunrise, etc. (12 34 3. )When is Rossetti's cj. (accepted by Dowden) for Where (1818, 1839), which Forman and Woodberry retain. In 11 24 1, 12 15 2 and 12 28 7 thereis Forman's cj. For then (1818). 

32. A golden mist did quiverWhere its wild surges with the lake were blended, -- (12 40 3, 4. )Where is Rossetti's cj. (accepted by Forman and Dowden) for When(editions 1818, 1839; Woodberry). See also list of punctual variationsbelow. 

33. Our bark hung there, as on a line suspended, etc. (12 40 5. )Here on a line is Rossetti's cj. (accepted by all editors) for one line(editions 1818, 1839). See also list of punctual variations below. 

34. LIST OF PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. Obvious errors of the press excepted, our text reproduces thepunctuation of Shelley's edition (1818), save where the sense is likelyto be perverted or obscured thereby. The following list shows where thepointing of the text varies from that of the editio princeps (1818)which is in every instance recorded here. 

DEDICATION, 7. Long. (9). 

CANTO 1. 9. Scale (3), neck (7). 11. What life what power (1). 22. Boat, (8), lay (9). 23. Embarked, (7), below A vast (8, 9). 26. World (1), chaos: Lo! (2). 28. Life: (2), own. (9). 29. Mirth, (6). 30. Language (2), But, when (5). 31. Foundations--soon (2), war-- thrones (6), multitude, (7). 32. Flame, (4). 33. Lightnings (3), truth, (5), brood, (5), hearts, (8). 34. Fiend (6). 35. Keep (8). 37. Mountains-- (8). 38. Unfold, (1), woe: (4), show, (5). 39. Gladness, (6) 40 fire, (1), cover, (5), far (6). 42. Kiss. (9). 43. But (5). 44. Men. (4), fame; (7). 45. Loved (4). 47. Sky, (5), away (6). 49. Dream, (2), floods. (9). 50. Universe. (4), language (6). 54. Blind. (4). 57. Mine--He (8). 58. Said-- (5). 60. Tongue, (9). 

CANTO 2. 1. Which (4). 3. Yet flattering power had (7). 4. Lust, (6). 6. Kind, (2). 11. Nor, (2). 13. Ruin. (3), trust. (9). 18. Friend (3). 22. Thought, (6), fancies (7). 24. Radiancy, (3). 25. Dells, (8). 26. Waste, (4)28. Passion (7). 31. Yet (4). 32. Which (3). 33. Blight (8), who (8). 37. Seat; (7). 39. Not--'wherefore (1). 40. Good, (5). 41. Tears (7). 43. Air (2). 46. Fire, (3). 47. Stroke, (2). 49. But (6). 

CANTO 3. 1. Dream, (4). 3. Shown (7), That (9). 4. When, (3). 5. Ever (7). 7. And (1). 16. Below (6). 19. If (4). 25. Thither, (2). 26. Worm (2), there, (3). 27. Beautiful, (8). 28. And (1). 30. As (1). 

CANTO 4. 2. Fallen--We (6). 3. Ray, (7). 4. Sleep, (5). 8. Fed (6). 10. Wide; (1), sword (7). 16. Chance, (7). 19. Her (3), blending (8). 23. Tyranny, (4). 24. Unwillingly (1). 26. Blood; (2). 27. Around (2), as (4). 31. Or (4). 33. Was (5). 

CANTO 5. 1. Flow, (5). 2. Profound--Oh, (4), veiled, (6). 3. Victory (1), face-- (8). 4. Swim, (5)6. Spread, (2), outsprung (5), far, (6), war, (8). 8. Avail (5). 10. Weep; (4), tents (8). 11. Lives, (8). 13. Beside (1). 15. Sky, (3). 17. Love (4). 20. Which (9). 22. Gloom, (8). 23. King (6). 27. Known, (4). 33. Ye? (1), Othman-- (3). 34. Pure-- (7). 35. People (1). 36. Where (3). 38. Quail; (2). 39. Society, (8). 40. See (1). 43. Light (8), throne. (9). 50. Skies, (6). 51. Image (7), isles; all (9), amaze. When (9, 10), fair. (12). 51. 1: will (15), train (15). 51. 2: wert, (5). 51. 4: brethren (1). 51. 5: steaming, (6). 55. Creep. (9). 

CANTO 6. 1. Snapped (9). 2. Gate, (2). 5. Rout (4), voice, (6), looks, (6). 6. As (1). 7. Prey, (1), isle. (9). 8. Sight (2). 12. Glen (4). 14. Almost (1), dismounting (4). 15. Blood (2). 21. Reins:--We (3), word (3). 22. Crest (6). 25. And, (1), and (9). 28. But (3), there, (8). 30. Air. (9). 32. Voice:-- (1). 37. Frames; (5). 43. Mane, (2), again, (7). 48. Now (8). 51. Hut, (4). 54. Waste, (7). 

CANTO 7. 2. Was, (5). 6. Dreams (3). 7. Gave Gestures and (2, 3), withstood, (4), save (4), sphere, (5). 8. Sent, (2). 14. Taught, (6), sought, (8). 17. And (6). 18. Own (5), beloved:-- (5). 19. Tears; (2), which, (3), appears, (5). 25. Me, (1), shapes (5). 27. And (1). 28. Strength (1). 30. Aye, (3), me, (5). 33. Pure (9). 38. Wracked; (4), cataract, (5). 

CANTO 8. 2. And (2). 9. Shadow (5). 11. Freedom (7), blood. (9). 13. Woman, (8), bond-slave, (8). 14. Pursuing (8), wretch! (9). 15. Home, (3). 21. Hate, (1). 23. Reply, (1). 25. Fairest, (1). 26. And (6). 28. Thunder (2). 

CANTO 9. 4. Hills, (1), brood, (6). 5. Port--alas! (1). 8. Grave (2). 9. With friend (3), occupations (7), overnumber, (8). 12. Lair; (5), Words, (6). 15. Who, (4), armed, (5), misery. (9). 17. Call, (4). 20. Truth (9). 22. Sharest; (4). 23. Faith, (8). 28. Conceive (8). 30. And as (5), hope (8). 33. Thoughts:--Come (7). 34. Willingly (2). 35. Ceased, (8). 36. Undight; (4). 

CANTO 10. 2. Tongue, (1). 7. Conspirators (6), wolves, (8). 8. Smiles, (5). 9. Bands, (2)11. File did (5). 18. But (5). 19. Brought, (5). 24. Food (5). 29. Worshippers (3). 32. West (2). 36. Foes, (5). 38. Now! (2). 40. Alone, (5). 41. Morn--at (1). 42. Below, (2). 43. Deep, (7), pest (8). 44. Drear (8). 47. 'Kill me!' they (9). 48. Died, (8). 

CANTO 11. 4. Which, (6), eyes, (8). 5. Tenderness (7). 7. Return--the (8). 8. Midnight-- (1). 10. Multitude (1). 11. Cheeks (1), here (4). 12. Come, give (3). 13. Many (1). 14. Arrest, (4), terror, (6). 19. Thus (1). 20. Stranger: 'What (5). 23. People: (7). 

CANTO 12. 3. And like (7). 7. Away (7). 8. Fairer it seems than (7). 10. Self, (9). 11. Divine (2), beauty-- (3). 12. Own. (9). 14. Fear, (1), choose, (4). 17. Death? the (1). 19. Radiance (3). 22. Spake; (5). 25. Thee beloved;-- (8). 26. Towers (6). 28. Repent, (2). 29. Withdrawn, (2). 31. Stood a winged Thought (1). 32. Gossamer, (6). 33. Stream (1). 34. Sunrise, (3), gold, (3), quiver, (4). 35. Abode, (4). 37. Wonderful; (3), go, (4). 40. Blended: (4), heavens, (6), lake; (6). 

1. PRINCE ATHANASE. 

Lines 28-30. The punctuation here ("Poetical Works", 1839) is supportedby the Bodleian manuscript, which has a full stop at relief (line 28), and a comma at chief (line 30). The text of the "Posthumous Poems", 1824, has a semicolon at relief and a full stop at chief. The originaldraft of lines 29, 30, in the Bodleian manuscript, runs:-- He was the child of fortune and of power, And, though of a high race the orphan Chief, etc. --which is decisive in favour of our punctuation (1839). See Locock, "Examination", etc. , page 51. 

2. Which wake and feed an ever-living woe, -- (line 74. )All the editions have on for an, the reading of the Bodleian manuscript, where it appears as a substitute for his, the word originally written. The first draft of the line runs: Which nursed and fed his everlivingwoe. Wake, accordingly, is to be construed as a transitive (Locock). 

3. Lines 130-169. This entire passage is distinctly cancelled in theBodleian manuscript, where the following revised version of lines125-129 and 168-181 is found some way later on:-- Prince Athanase had one beloved friend, An old, old man, with hair of silver white, And lips where heavenly smiles would hang and blend With his wise words; and eyes whose arrowy light Was the reflex of many minds; he filled From fountains pure, nigh overgrown and [lost], The spirit of Prince Athanase, a child; And soul-sustaining songs of ancient lore And philosophic wisdom, clear and mild. And sweet and subtle talk they evermore The pupil and the master [share], until Sharing that undiminishable store, The youth, as clouds athwart a grassy hill Outrun the winds that chase them, soon outran His teacher, and did teach with native skill Strange truths and new to that experienced man; So [?] they were friends, as few have ever been Who mark the extremes of life's discordant span. The words bracketed above, and in Fragment 5 of our text, are cancelledin the manuscript (Locock). 

4. And blighting hope, etc. (line 152. )The word blighting here, noted as unsuitable by Rossetti, is cancelledin the Bodleian manuscript (Locock). 

5. She saw between the chestnuts, far beneath, etc. (line 154. )The reading of editions 1824, 1839 (beneath the chestnuts) is a palpablemisprint. 

6. And sweet and subtle talk they evermore, The pupil and the master, shared; (lines 173, 174. )So edition 1824, which is supported by the Bodleian manuscript, --boththe cancelled draft and the revised version: cf. Note above. "PoeticalWorks", 1839, has now for they--a reading retained by Rossetti alone ofmodern editors. 

7. Line 193. The 'three-dots' point at storm is in the Bodleian manuscript. 

8. Lines 202-207. The Bodleian manuscript, which has a comma and dash afternightingale, bears out James Thomson's ('B. V. 's') view, approved byRossetti, that these lines form one sentence. The manuscript has a dashafter here (line 207), which must be regarded as 'equivalent to a fullstop or note of exclamation' (Locock). Editions 1824, 1839 have a noteof exclamation after nightingale (line 204) and a comma after here (line207). 

9. Fragment 3 (lines 230-239). First printed from the Bodleian manuscriptby Mr. C. D. Locock. In the space here left blank, line 231, themanuscript has manhood, which is cancelled for some monosyllableunknown--query, spring?

10. And sea-buds burst under the waves serene:-- (line 250. )For under edition 1839 has beneath, which, however, is cancelled forunder in the Bodleian manuscript (Locock). 

11. Lines 251-254. This, with many other places from line 222 onwards, evidently lacks Shelley's final corrections. 

12. Line 259. According to Mr. Locock, the final text of this line in theBodleian manuscript runs:--Exulting, while the wide world shrinks below, etc. 

13. Fragment 5 (lines 261-278). The text here is much tortured in theBodleian manuscript. What the editions give us is clearly but a roughand tentative draft. 'The language contains no third rhyme to mountains(line 262) and fountains (line 264). ' Locock. Lines 270-278 were firstprinted by Mr. Locock. 

14. Line 289. For light (Bodleian manuscript) here the editions read bright. But light is undoubtedly the right word: cf. Line 287. Investeth (line285), Rossetti's cj. For Investeth (1824, 1839) is found in the Bodleianmanuscript. 

15. Lines 297-302 (the darts... Ungarmented). First printed by Mr. Locockfrom the Bodleian manuscript. 

16. Another Fragment (A). Lines 1-3 of this Fragment reappear in a modifiedshape in the Bodleian manuscript of "Prometheus Unbound", 2 4 28-30:-- Or looks which tell that while the lips are calm And the eyes cold, the spirit weeps within Tears like the sanguine sweat of agony;Here the lines are cancelled--only, however, to reappear in a heightenedshape in "The Cenci", 1 1 111-113:-- The dry, fixed eyeball; the pale quivering lip, Which tells me that the spirit weeps within Tears bitterer than the bloody sweat of Christ. (Garnett, Locock. )

17. PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. The punctuation of "Prince Athanase" is that of "Poetical Works", 1839, save in the places specified in the notes above, and in line 60--wherethere is a full stop, instead of the comma demanded by the sense, at theclose of the line. 

ROSALIND AND HELEN. 

1. A sound from there, etc. (line 63. )Rossetti's cj. , there for thee, is adopted by all modern editors. 

2. And down my cheeks the quick tears fell, etc. (line 366. )The word fell is Rossetti's cj. (to rhyme with tell, line 369) for ran1819, 1839). 

3. Lines 405-409. The syntax here does not hang together, and Shelley mayhave been thinking of this passage amongst others when, on September 6, 1819, he wrote to Ollier:--'In the "Rosalind and Helen" I see there aresome few errors, which are so much the worse because they are errors inthe sense. ' The obscurity, however, may have been, in part at least, designed: Rosalind grows incoherent before breaking off abruptly. Nosatisfactory emendation has been proposed. 

4. Where weary meteor lamps repose, etc. (line 551. )With Woodberry I regard Where, his cj. For When (1819, 1839), asnecessary for the sense. 

5. With which they drag from mines of gore, etc. (line 711. )Rossetti proposes yore for gore here, or, as an alternative, rivers ofgore, etc. If yore be right, Shelley's meaning is: 'With which from ofold they drag, ' etc. But cf. Note (3) above. 

6. Where, like twin vultures, etc. (line 932. )Where is Woodberry's reading for When (1819, 1839). Forman suggestsWhere but does not print it. 

7. Lines 1093-1096. The editio princeps (1819) punctuates:--Hung in dense flocks beneath the dome, That ivory dome, whose azure nightWith golden stars, like heaven, was brightO'er the split cedar's pointed flame;

8. Lines 1168-1170. Sunk (line 1170) must be taken as a transitive in thispassage, the grammar of which is defended by Mr. Swinburne. 

9. Whilst animal life many long yearsHad rescue from a chasm of tears; (lines 1208-9. )Forman substitutes rescue for rescued (1819, 1839)--a highly probablecj. Adopted by Dowden, but rejected by Woodberry. The sense is: 'Whilstmy life, surviving by the physical functions merely, thus escaped duringmany years from hopeless weeping. '

10. PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. The following is a list of punctual variations, giving in each case thepointing of the editio princeps (1819):--heart 257; weak 425; Aye 492;There--now 545; immortally 864; not, 894; bleeding, 933; Fidelity 1055;dome, 1093; bright 1095; tremble, 1150; life-dissolving 1166; words, 1176; omit parentheses lines 1188-9; bereft, 1230. 

JULIAN AND MADDALO. 

1. Line 158. Salutations past; (1824); Salutations passed; (1839). Our textfollows Woodberry. 

2. --we might be allWe dream of happy, high, majestical. (lines 172-3. )So the Hunt manuscript, edition 1824, has a comma after of (line 173), which is retained by Rossetti and Dowden. 

3. --his melodyIs interrupted--now we hear the din, etc. (lines 265-6. )So the Hunt manuscript; his melody Is interrupted now: we hear the din, etc. , 1824, 1829. 

4. Lines 282-284. The editio princeps (1824) runs:--Smiled in their motions as they lay apart, As one who wrought from his own fervid heartThe eloquence of passion: soon he raised, etc. 

5. Line 414. The editio princeps (1824) has a colon at the end of thisline, and a semicolon at the close of line 415. 

6. The 'three-dots' point, which appears several times in these pages, istaken from the Hunt manuscript and serves to mark a pause longer thanthat of a full stop. 

7. He ceased, and overcome leant back awhile, etc. (line 511. )The form leant is retained here, as the stem-vowel, though unaltered inspelling, is shortened in pronunciation. Thus leant (pronounced 'lent')from lean comes under the same category as crept from creep, lept fromleap, cleft from cleave, etc. --perfectly normal forms, all of them. Inthe case of weak preterites formed without any vowel-change, the moreregular formation with ed is that which has been adopted in this volume. See Editor's "Preface". 

8. CANCELLED FRAGMENTS OF JULIAN AND MADDALO. These were first printed byDr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862. 

9. PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. Shelley's final transcript of "Julian and Maddalo", though written withgreat care and neatness, is yet very imperfectly punctuated. He wouldseem to have relied on the vigilance of Leigh Hunt--or, failing Hunt, ofPeacock--to make good all omissions while seeing the poem through thepress. Even Mr. Buxton Forman, careful as he is to uphold manuscriptauthority in general, finds it necessary to supplement the pointing ofthe Hunt manuscript in no fewer than ninety-four places. The followingtable gives a list of the pointings adopted in our text, over and abovethose found in the Hunt manuscript. In all but four or five instances, the supplementary points are derived from Mrs. Shelley's text of 1824. 

1. Comma added at end of line:40, 54, 60, 77, 78, 85, 90, 94, 107, 110, 116, 120, 123, 134, 144, 145, 154, 157, 168, 179, 183, 191, 196, 202, 203, 215, 217, 221, 224, 225, 238, 253, 254, 262, 287, 305, 307, 331, 338, 360, 375, 384, 385, 396, 432, 436, 447, 450, 451, 473, 475, 476, 511, 520, 526, 541, 582, 590, 591, 592, 593, 595, 603, 612. 

2. Comma added elsewhere:seas, 58; vineyards, 58;dismounted, 61;evening, 65;companion, 86;isles, 90;meant, 94;Look, Julian, 96;maniacs, 110;maker, 113;past, 114;churches, 136;rainy, 141;blithe, 167;beauty, 174;Maddalo, 192;others, 205;this, 232;respects, 241;shriek, 267;wrote, 286;month, 300;cried, 300;O, 304;and, 306;misery, disappointment, 314;soon, 369;stay, 392;mad, 394;Nay, 398;serpent, 399;said, 403;cruel, 439;hate, 461;hearts, 483;he, 529;seemed, 529;Unseen, 554;morning, 582;aspect, 585;And, 593;remember, 604;parted, 610. 

3. Semicolon added at end of line:101, 103, 167, 181, 279, 496. 

4. Colon added at end of line:164, 178, 606, 610. 

5. Full stop added at end of line:95, 201, 299, 319, 407, 481, 599, 601, 617. 

6. Full stop added elsewhere:transparent. 85;trials. 472;Venice, 583. 

7. Admiration--note added at end of line:392, 492;elsewhere: 310, 323, 8. Dash added at end of line:158, 379. 

9. Full stop for comma (manuscript):eye. 119. 

10. Full stop for dash (manuscript):entered. 158. 

11. Colon for full stop (manuscript):tale: 596. 

12. Dash for colon (manuscript):this-- 207;prepared-- 379. 

13. Comma and dash for semicolon (manuscript):expressionless, -- 292. 

14. Comma and dash for comma (manuscript):not, -- 127. 

PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. 

The variants of B. (Shelley's 'intermediate draft' of "PrometheusUnbound", now in the Bodleian Library), here recorded, are taken fromMr. C. D. Locock's "Examination", etc. , Clarendon Press, 1903. SeeEditor's Prefatory Note, above. 

1. Act 1, line 204. B. Has--shaken in pencil above--peopled. 

2. Hark that outcry, etc. (1 553. )All editions read Mark that outcry, etc. As Shelley nowhere else usesMark in the sense of List, I have adopted Hark, the reading of B. 

3. Gleamed in the night. I wandered, etc. (1 770. )Forman proposes to delete the period at night. 

4. But treads with lulling footstep, etc. (1 774. )Forman prints killing--a misreading of B. Editions 1820, 1839 read silent. 

5.... The eastern star looks white, etc. (1 825. )B. Reads wan for white. 

6. Like footsteps of weak melody, etc. (2 1 89. )B. Reads far (above a cancelled lost) for weak. 

7. And wakes the destined soft emotion, --Attracts, impels them; (2 2 50, 51. )The editio princeps (1820) reads destined soft emotion, Attracts, etc. ;"Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition reads destined: soft emotionAttracts, etc. "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition reads destined, softemotion Attracts, etc. Forman and Dowden place a period, and Woodberry asemicolon, at destined (line 50). 

8. There steams a plume-uplifting wind, etc. (2 2 53. )Here steams is found in B. , in the editio princeps (1820) and in the 1stedition of "Poetical Works", 1839. In the 2nd edition, 1839, streamsappears--no doubt a misprint overlooked by the editress. 

9. Sucked up and hurrying: as they fleet, etc. (2 2 60. )So "Poetical Works", 1839, both editions. The editio princeps (1820)reads hurrying as, etc. 

10. See'st thou shapes within the mist? (2 3 50. )So B. , where these words are substituted for the cancelled I see thinshapes within the mist of the editio princeps (1820). 'The credit ofdiscovering the true reading belongs to Zupitza' (Locock). 

11. 2 4 12-18. The construction is faulty here, but the sense, as ProfessorWoodberry observes, is clear. 

12.... But who rains down, etc. (2 4 100. )The editio princeps (1820) has reigns--a reading which Forman bravelybut unsuccessfully attempts to defend. 

13. Child of Light! thy limbs are burning, etc. (2 5 54. )The editio princeps (1820) has lips for limbs, but the word membre inShelley's Italian prose version of these lines establishes limbs, thereading of B. (Locock). 

14. Which in the winds and on the waves doth move, (2 5 96. )The word and is Rossetti's conjectural emendation, adopted by Forman andDowden. Woodberry unhappily observes that 'the emendation corrects afaultless line merely to make it agree with stanzaic structure, and... Isopen to the gravest doubt. ' Rossetti's conjecture is fully establishedby the authority of B. 

15. 3 4 172-174. The editio princeps (1820) punctuates:mouldering roundThese imaged to the pride of kings and priests, A dark yet mighty faith, a power, etc. This punctuation is retained by Forman and Dowden; that of our text isWoodberry's. 

16. 3 4 180, 188. A dash has been introduced at the close of these two linesto indicate the construction more clearly. And for the sake of clearnessa note of interrogation has been substituted for the semicolon of 1820after Passionless (line 198). 

17. Where lovers catch ye by your loose tresses; (4 107. )B. Has sliding for loose (cancelled). 

18. By ebbing light into her western cave, (4 208. )Here light is the reading of B. For night (all editions). Mr. Lococktells us that the anticipated discovery of this reading was the originof his examination of the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian. Inprinting night Marchant's compositor blundered; yet 'we cannot wish thefault undone, the issue of it being so proper. '

19. Purple and azure, white, and green, and golden, (4 242. )The editio princeps (1820) reads white, green and golden, etc. --whiteand green being Rossetti's emendation, adopted by Forman and Dowden. Here again--cf. Note on (17) above--Prof. Woodberry commits himself bystigmatizing the correction as one 'for which there is no authority inShelley's habitual versification. ' Rossetti's conjecture is confirmed bythe reading of B. , white and green, etc. 

20. Filling the abyss with sun-like lightenings, (4 276. )The editio princeps (1820) reads lightnings, for which Rossettisubstitutes lightenings--a conjecture described by Forman as 'an exampleof how a very slight change may produce a very calamitous result. ' B. However supports Rossetti, and in point of fact Shelley usually wrotelightenings, even where the word counts as a dissyllable (Locock). 

21. Meteors and mists, which throng air's solitudes:-- (4 547. )For throng (cancelled) B. Reads feed, i. E. , 'feed on' (cf. Pasturingflowers of vegetable fire, 3 4 110)--a reading which carries on themetaphor of line 546 (ye untameable herds), and ought, perhaps, to beadopted into the text. 

22. PUNCTUAL VARIATIONS. The punctuation of our text is that of the editio princeps (1820), except in the places indicated in the following list, which records ineach instance the pointing of 1820:--

Act 1. --empire. 15; O, 17; God 144; words 185; internally. 299; O, 302;gnash 345; wail 345; Sufferer 352; agony. 491; Between 712; cloud 712;vale 826. 

Act 2:Scene 1. --air 129; by 153; fire, 155. Scene 2. --noonday, 25; hurrying 60. Scene 3. --mist. 50. Scene 4. --sun, 4; Ungazed 5; on 103; ay 106; secrets. 115. Scene 5. --brightness 67. 

Act 3:Scene 3. --apparitions, 49; beauty, 51; phantoms, (omit parentheses) 52; reality, 53; wind 98. Scene 4. --toil 109; fire. 110; feel; 114; borne; 115; said 124; priests, 173; man, 180; hate, 188; Passionless; 198. 

Act 4. --dreams, 66; be. 165; light. 168; air, 187; dreams, 209; woods 211; thunder-storm, 215; lie 298; bones 342; blending. 343; mire. 349; pass, 371; kind 385; move. 387. 

THE CENCI. 

1. The deed he saw could not have rated higherThan his most worthless life:-- (1 1 24, 25. )Than is Mrs. Shelley's emendation (1839) for That, the word in theeditio princeps (1819) printed in Italy, and in the (standard) editionof 1821. The sense is: 'The crime he witnessed could not have provedcostlier to redeem than his murder has proved to me. '

2. And but that there yet remains a deed to act, etc. (1 1 100. )Read: And but : that there yet : remains : etc. 

3. 1 1 111-113. The earliest draft of these lines appears as a tentativefragment in the Bodleian manuscript of "Prince Athanase" (vid. Supr. ). In the Bodleian manuscript of "Prometheus Unbound" they reappear (after2 4 27) in a modified shape, as follows:--Or looks which tell that while the lips are calmAnd the eyes cold, the spirit weeps withinTears like the sanguine sweat of agony;Here again, however, the passage is cancelled, once more to reappear inits final and most effective shape in "The Cenci" (Locock). 

4. And thus I love you still, but holily, Even as a sister or a spirit might; (1 2 24, 25. )For this, the reading of the standard edition (1821), the editioprinceps has, And yet I love, etc. , which Rossetti retains. If yet beright, the line should be punctuated:--And yet I love you still, --but holily, Even as a sister or a spirit might;

5. What, if we, The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh, His children and his wife, etc. (1 3 103-105. )For were (104) Rossetti cj. Are or wear. Wear is a plausible emendation, but the text as it stands is defensible. 

6. But that no power can fill with vital oilThat broken lamp of flesh. (3 2 17, 18. )The standard text (1821) has a Shelleyan comma after oil (17), whichForman retains. Woodberry adds a dash to the comma, thus making that(17) a demonstrative pronoun indicating broken lamp of flesh. Thepointing of our text is that of editions 1819, 1839, But that (17) is tobe taken as a prepositional conjunction linking the dependent clause, nopower... Lamp of flesh, to the principal sentence, So wastes... Kindledmine (15, 16). 

7. The following list of punctual variations indicates the places where ourpointing departs from that of the standard text of 1821, and records ineach instance the pointing of that edition:--

Act 1, Scene 2:--Ah! No, 34; Scene 3:--hope, 29; Why 44; love 115; thou 146; Ay 146. 

Act 2, Scene 1:--Ah! No, 13; Ah! No, 73; courage 80; nook 179; Scene 2:--fire, 70; courage 152. 

Act 3, Scene 1:--Why 64; mock 185; opinion 185; law 185; strange 188; friend 222; Scene 2:--so 3; oil, 17. 

Act 4, Scene 1:--wrong 41; looked 97; child 107; Scene 3:--What 19; father, (omit quotes) 32. 

Act 5, Scene 2:--years 119; Scene 3:--Ay, 5; Guards 94; Scene 4:--child, 145. 

THE MASK OF ANARCHY. 

Our text follows in the main the transcript by Mrs. Shelley (withadditions and corrections in Shelley's hand) known as the 'Huntmanuscript. ' For the readings of this manuscript we are indebted to Mr. Buxton Forman's Library Edition of the Poems, 1876. The variants of the'Wise manuscript' (see Prefatory Note) are derived from the Facsimileedited in 1887 for the Shelley Society by Mr. Buxton Forman. 

1. Like Eldon, an ermined gown; (4 2. )The editio princeps (1832) has Like Lord E-- here. Lord is inserted inminute characters in the Wise manuscript, but is rejected from our textas having been cancelled by the poet himself in the (later) Huntmanuscript. 

2. For he knew the PalacesOf our Kings were rightly his; (20 1, 2. )For rightly (Wise manuscript) the Hunt manuscript and editions 1832, 1839 have nightly which is retained by Rossetti and in Forman's text of1876. Dowden and Woodberry print rightly which also appears in Forman'slatest text ("Aldine Shelley", 1892). 

3. In a neat and happy home. (54 4. )For In (Wise manuscript, editions 1832, 1839) the Hunt manuscript readsTo a neat, etc. , which is adopted by Rossetti and Dowden, and appearedin Forman's text of 1876. Woodberry and Forman (1892) print In a neat, etc. 

4. Stanzas 70 3, 4; 71 1. These form one continuous clause in every textsave the editio princeps, 1832, where a semicolon appears after around(70 4). 

5. Our punctuation follows that of the Hunt manuscript, save in thefollowing places, where a comma, wanting in the manuscript, is suppliedin the text:--gay 47; came 58; waken 122; shaken 123; call 124; number152; dwell 163; thou 209; thee 249; fashion 287; surprise 345; free 358. A semicolon is supplied after earth (line 131). 

PETER BELL THE THIRD. 

Thomas Brown, Esq. , the Younger, H. F. , to whom the "Dedication" isaddressed, is the Irish poet, Tom Moore. The letters H. F. May stand for'Historian of the Fudges' (Garnett), Hibernicae Filius (Rossetti), or, perhaps, Hibernicae Fidicen. Castles and Oliver (3 2 1; 7 4 4) weregovernment spies, as readers of Charles Lamb are aware. The allusion in6 36 is to Wordsworth's "Thanksgiving Ode on The Battle of Waterloo", original version, published in 1816:--But Thy most dreaded instrument, In working out a pure intent, Is Man--arrayed for mutual slaughter, --Yea, Carnage is Thy daughter!

1. Lines 547-549 (6 18 5; 19 1, 2). These lines evidently form a continuousclause. The full stop of the editio princeps at rocks, line 547, hastherefore been deleted, and a semicolon substituted for the originalcomma at the close of line 546. 

2. 'Ay--and at last desert me too. ' (line 603. )Rossetti, who however follows the editio princeps, saw that these wordsare spoken--not by Peter to his soul, but--by his soul to Peter, by wayof rejoinder to the challenge of lines 600-602:--'And I and you, Mydearest Soul, will then make merry, As the Prince Regent did withSherry. ' In order to indicate this fact, inverted commas are inserted atthe close of line 602 and the beginning of line 603. 

3. The punctuation of the editio princeps, 1839, has been throughoutrevised, but--with the two exceptions specified in notes (1) and (2)above--it seemed an unprofitable labour to record the particularalterations, which serve but to clarify--in no instance to modify--thesense as indicated by Mrs. Shelley's punctuation. 

LETTER TO MARIA GISBORNE. 

Our text mainly follows Mrs. Shelley's transcript, for the readings ofwhich we are indebted to Mr. Buxton Forman's Library Edition of thePoems, 1876. The variants from Shelley's draft are supplied by Dr. Garnett. 

1. Lines 197-201. These lines, which are wanting in editions 1824 and 1839(1st edition), are supplied from Mrs. Shelley's transcript and fromShelley's draft (Boscombe manuscript). In the 2nd edition of 1839 thefollowing lines appear in their place:--Your old friend Godwin, greater none than he;Though fallen on evil times, yet will he stand, Among the spirits of our age and land, Before the dread tribunal of To-comeThe foremost, whilst rebuke stands pale and dumb. 

2. Line 296. The names in this line are supplied from the two manuscripts. In the "Posthumous Poems" of 1824 the line appears:--Oh! that H-- -- and-- were there, etc. 

3. The following list gives the places where the pointing of the textvaries from that of Mrs. Shelley's transcript as reported by Mr. BuxtonForman, and records in each case the pointing of that original:--Turk26; scorn 40; understood, 49; boat-- 75; think, 86; believe; 158; are;164; fair 233; cameleopard; 240; Now 291. 

THE WITCH OF ATLAS. 

1. The following list gives the places where our text departs from thepointing of the editio princeps ("Dedication", 1839; "Witch of Atlas", 1824), and records in each case the original pointing:--DEDIC. --pinions, 14; fellow, 41; Othello, 45. WITCH OF ATLAS. --bliss; 164; above. 192; gums 258; flashed 409;sunlight, 409; Thamondocana. 424; by. 432; engraven. 448; apart, 662;mind! 662. 

EPIPSYCHIDION. 

1. The following list gives the places where our text departs from thepointing of the editio princeps, 1821, with the original point in eachcase:--love, 44; pleasure; 68; flowing 96; where! 234; passed 252;dreamed, 278; Night 418; year), 440; children, 528. 

ADONAIS. 

1. The following list indicates the places in which the punctuation of thisedition departs from that of the editio princeps, of 1821, and recordsin each instance the pointing of that text:--thou 10; Oh 19; apace, 65;Oh 73; flown 138; Thou 142; Ah 154; immersed 167; corpse 172; tender172; his 193; they 213; Death 217; Might 218; bow, 249; sighs 314;escape 320; Cease 366; dark 406; forth 415; dead, 440; Whilst 493. 

HELLAS. 

A Reprint of the original edition (1822) of "Hellas" was edited for theShelley Society in 1887 by Mr. Thomas J. Wise. In Shelley's list ofDramatis Personae the Phantom of Mahomet the Second is wanting. Shelley's list of Errata in edition 1822 was first printed in Mr. BuxtonForman's Library Edition of the Poems, 1876 (4 page 572). These errataare silently corrected in the text. 

1. For Revenge and Wrong bring forth their kind, etc. (lines 728-729. )'"For" has no rhyme (unless "are" and "despair" are to be consideredsuch): it requires to rhyme with "hear. " From this defect of rhyme, andother considerations, I (following Mr. Fleay) used to consider it almostcertain that "Fear" ought to replace "For"; and I gave "Fear" in myedition of 1870... However, the word in the manuscript ["Williamstranscript"] is "For, " and Shelley's list of errata leaves thisunaltered--so we must needs abide by it. '--Rossetti, "Complete PoeticalWorks of P. B. S. ", edition 1878 (3 volumes), 2 page 456. 

2. Lines 729-732. This quatrain, as Dr. Garnett ("Letters of Shelley", 1884, pages 166, 249) points out, is an expansion of the following linesfrom the "Agamemmon" of Aeschylus (758-760), quoted by Shelley in aletter to his wife, dated 'Friday, August 10, 1821':--to dussebes--meta men pleiona tiktei, sphetera d' eikota genna. 

3. Lines 1091-1093. This passage, from the words more bright to the closeof line 1093, is wanting in the editio princeps, 1822, its place beingsupplied by asterisks. The lacuna in the text is due, no doubt, to thetimidity of Ollier, the publisher, whom Shelley had authorised to makeexcisions from the notes. In "Poetical Works", 1839, the lines, as theyappear in our text, are restored; in Galignani's edition of "Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats" (Paris, 1829), however, they had already appeared, though with the substitution of wise for bright (line 1091), and ofunwithstood for unsubdued (line 1093). Galignani's reading--native forvotive--in line 1095 is an evident misprint. In Ascham's edition ofShelley (2 volumes, fcp. 8vo. , 1834), the passage is reprinted fromGalignani. 

4. The following list shows the places in which our text departs from thepunctuation of the editio princeps, 1822, and records in each instancethe pointing of that edition:--dreams 71; course. 125; mockery 150;conqueror 212; streams 235; Moslems 275; West 305; moon, 347; harm, 394;shame, 402; anger 408; descends 447; crime 454; banner. 461; Phanae, 470; blood 551; tyrant 557; Cydaris, 606; Heaven 636; Highness 638; man738; sayest 738; One 768; mountains 831; dust 885; consummation? 902;dream 921; may 923; death 935; clime. 1005; feast, 1025; horn, 1032;Noon, 1045; death 1057; dowers 1094. 

CHARLES THE FIRST. 

To Mr. Rossetti we owe the reconstruction of this fragmentary drama outof materials partly published by Mrs. Shelley in 1824, partly recoveredfrom manuscript by himself. The bracketed words are, presumably, supplied by Mr. Rossetti to fill actual lacunae in the manuscript; thosequeried represent indistinct writing. Mr. Rossetti's additions to thetext are indicated in the footnotes. In one or two instances Mr. Formanand Dr. Garnett have restored the true reading. The list of DramatisPersonae is Mr. Forman's. 

THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE. 

1. Lines 131-135. This grammatically incoherent passage is thusconjecturally emended by Rossetti:--Fled back like eagles to their native noon;For those who put aside the diademOf earthly thrones or gems... , Whether of Athens or Jerusalem, Were neither mid the mighty captives seen, etc. In the case of an incomplete poem lacking the author's finalcorrections, however, restoration by conjecture is, to say the least ofit, gratuitous. 

2. Line 282. The words, 'Even as the deeds of others, not as theirs. ' Andthen--are wanting in editions 1824, 1839, and were recovered by Dr. Garnett from the Boscombe manuscript. Mrs. Shelley's note hereruns:--'There is a chasm here in the manuscript which it is impossibleto fill. It appears from the context that other shapes pass and thatRousseau still stood beside the dreamer. ' Mr. Forman thinks that the'chasm' is filled up by the words restored from the manuscript by Dr. Garnett. Mr. A. C. Bradley writes: 'It seems likely that, after writing"I have suffered... Pain", Shelley meant to strike out the words between"known" [276] and "I" [278], and to fill up the gap in such a way that"I" would be the last word of the line beginning "May well be known". '

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

1. TO --. Mrs. Shelley tentatively assigned this fragment to 1817. 'Itseems not improbable that it was addressed at this time [June, 1814] toMary Godwin. ' Dowden, "Life", 1 422, Woodberry suggests that 'Harrietanswers as well, or better, to the situation described. '

2. ON DEATH. These stanzas occur in the Esdaile manuscript along withothers which Shelley intended to print with "Queen Mab" in 1813; but thetext was revised before publication in 1816. 

3. TO --. 'The poem beginning "Oh, there are spirits in the air, " wasaddressed in idea to Coleridge, whom he never knew'--writes Mrs. Shelley. Mr. Bertram Dobell, Mr. Rossetti and Professor Dowden, however, incline to think that we have here an address by Shelley in a despondentmood to his own spirit. 

4. LINES. These appear to be antedated by a year, as they evidently alludeto the death of Harriet Shelley in November, 1816. 

5. ANOTHER FRAGMENT TO MUSIC. To Mr. Forman we owe the restoration of thetrue text here--'food of Love. ' Mrs. Shelley printed 'god of Love. '

6. MARENGHI, lines 92, 93. The 1870 (Rossetti) version of these lines is:--White bones, and locks of dun and yellow hair, And ringed horns which buffaloes did wear--The words locks of dun (line 92) are cancelled in the manuscript. Shelley's failure to cancel the whole line was due, Mr. Locock rightlyargues, to inadvertence merely; instead of buffaloes the manuscriptgives the buffalo, and it supplies the 'wonderful line' (Locock) whichcloses the stanza in our text, and with which Mr. Locock aptly compares"Mont Blanc", line 69:--Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone, And the wolf tracks her there. 

7. ODE TO LIBERTY, lines 1, 2. On the suggestion of his brother, Mr. AlfredForman, the editor of the Library Edition of Shelley's Poems (1876), Mr. Buxton Forman, printed these lines as follows:--A glorious people vibrated again:The lightning of the nations, Liberty, From heart to heart, etc. The testimony of Shelley's autograph in the Harvard College manuscript, however, is final against such a punctuation. 

8. Lines 41, 42. We follow Mrs. Shelley's punctuation (1839). In Shelley'sedition (1820) there is no stop at the end of line 41, and a semicoloncloses line 42. 

9. ODE TO NAPLES. In Mrs. Shelley's editions the various sections of thisOde are severally headed as follows:--'Epode 1 alpha, Epode 2 alpha, Strophe alpha 1, Strophe beta 2, Antistrophe alpha gamma, Antistrophebeta gamma, Antistrophe beta gamma, Antistrophe alpha gamma, Epode 1gamma, Epode 2 gamma. In the manuscript, Mr. Locock tells us, theheadings are 'very doubtful, many of them being vaguely altered with penand pencil. ' Shelley evidently hesitated between two or threealternative ways of indicating the structure and corresponding parts ofhis elaborate song; hence the chaotic jumble of headings printed ineditions 1824, 1839. So far as the "Epodes" are concerned, the headingsin this edition are those of editions 1824, 1839, which may be taken assupported by the manuscript (Locock). As to the remaining sections, Mr. Locock's examination of the manuscript leads him to conclude thatShelley's final choice was:--'Strophe 1, Strophe 2, Antistrophe 1, Antistrophe 2, Antistrophe 1 alpha, Antistrophe 2 alpha. ' This in itselfwould be perfectly appropriate, but it would be inconsistent with themethod employed in designating the "Epodes". I have therefore adopted inpreference a scheme which, if it lacks manuscript authority in someparticulars, has at least the merit of being absolutely logical andconsistent throughout. 

Mr. Locock has some interesting remarks on the metrical features of thiscomplex ode. On the 10th line of Antistrophe 1a (line 86 of theode)--Aghast she pass from the Earth's disk--which exceeds by one footthe 10th lines of the two corresponding divisions, Strophe 1 andAntistrophe 1b, he observes happily enough that 'Aghast may well havebeen intended to disappear. ' Mr. Locock does not seem to notice that theclosing lines of these three answering sections--(1) hail, hail, allhail!--(2) Thou shalt be great--All hail!--(3) Art Thou of all thesehopes. --O hail! increase by regular lengths--two, three, four iambi. Nordoes he seem quite to grasp Shelley's intention with regard to the rhymescheme of the other triple group, Strophe 2, Antistrophe 2a, Antistrophe2b. That of Strophe 2 may be thus expressed:--a-a-bc; d-d-bc; a-c-d;b-c. Between this and Antistrophe 2a (the second member of the group)there is a general correspondence with, in one particular, a subtlemodification. The scheme now becomes a-a-bc; d-d-bc; a-c-b; d-c: i. E. The rhymes of lines 9 and 10 are transposed--God (line 9) answering tothe halfway rhymes of lines 3 and 6, gawd and unawed, instead of (as inStrophe 2) to the rhyme-endings of lines 4 and 5; and, vice versa, fate(line 10) answering to desolate and state (lines 4 and 5), instead of tothe halfway rhymes aforesaid. As to Antistrophe 2b, that followsAntistrophe 2a, so far as it goes; but after line 9 it breaks offsuddenly, and closes with two lines corresponding in length and rhyme tothe closing couplet of Antistrophe 1b, the section immediatelypreceding, which, however, belongs not to this group, but to the other. Mr. Locock speaks of line 124 as 'a rhymeless line. ' Rhymeless it isnot, for shore, its rhyme-termination, answers to bower and power, thehalfway rhymes of lines 118 and 121 respectively. Why Mr. Locock shouldcall line 12 an 'unmetrical line, ' I cannot see. It is a decasyllabicline, with a trochee substituted for an iambus in the third foot--Around: me gleamed : many a : bright se : pulchre. 

10. THE TOWER OF FAMINE. --It is doubtful whether the following note isShelley's or Mrs. Shelley's: 'At Pisa there still exists the prison ofUgolino, which goes by the name of "La Torre della Fame"; in theadjoining building the galley-slaves are confined. It is situated on thePonte al Mare on the Arno. '

11. GINEVRA, line 129: Through seas and winds, cities and wildernesses. Thefootnote omits Professor Dowden's conjectural emendation--woods--forwinds, the reading of edition 1824 here. 

12. THE LADY OF THE SOUTH. Our text adopts Mr. Forman's correction--drouthfor drought--in line 3. This should have been recorded in a footnote. 

13. HYMN TO MERCURY, line 609. The period at now is supported by the Harvardmanuscript. 

JUVENILIA. 

QUEEN MAB. 

1. Throughout this varied and eternal worldSoul is the only element: the blockThat for uncounted ages has remainedThe moveless pillar of a mountain's weightIs active, living spirit. (4, lines 139-143. )This punctuation was proposed in 1888 by Mr. J. R. Tutin (see "Notebookof the Shelley Society", Part 1, page 21), and adopted by Dowden, "Poetical Works of Shelley", Macmillan, 1890. The editio princeps(1813), which is followed by Forman (1892) and Woodberry (1893), has acomma after element and a full stop at remained. 

2. Guards... From a nation's rageSecure the crown, etc. (4, lines 173-176. )So Mrs. Shelley ("Poetical Works", 1839, both editions), Rossetti, Forman, Dowden. The editio princeps reads Secures, which Woodberrydefends and retains. 

3. 4, lines 203-220: omitted by Mrs. Shelley from the text of "PoeticalWorks", 1839, 1st edition, but restored in the 2nd edition of 1839. Seeabove, "Note on Queen Mab, by Mrs. Shelley". 

4. All germs of promise, yet when the tall trees, etc. (5, line 9. )So Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry. In editions 1813 (editio princeps) and1839 ("Poetical Works", both editions) there is a full stop at promisewhich Forman retains. 

5. Who ever hears his famished offspring's scream, etc. (5, line 116. )The editio princeps has offsprings--an evident misprint. 

6. 6, lines 54-57, line 275: struck out of the text of "Poetical Works", 1839(1st edition), but restored in the 2nd edition of that year. See Note 3 above. 

7. The exterminable spirit it contains, etc. (7, line 23. )Exterminable seems to be used here in the sense of 'illimitable' (N. E. D. ). Rossetti proposes interminable, or inexterminable. 

8. A smile of godlike malice reillumed, etc. (7, line 180. )The editio princeps and the first edition of "Poetical Works", 1839, read reillumined here, which is retained by Forman, Dowden, Woodberry. With Rossetti, I follow Mrs. Shelley's reading in "Poetical Works", 1839(2nd edition). 

9. One curse alone was spared--the name of God. (8, line 165. )Removed from the text, "Poetical Works", 1839 (1st edition); restored, "Poetical Works", 1839 (2nd edition). See Notes 3 and 6 above. 

10. Which from the exhaustless lore of human wealDawns on the virtuous mind, etc. (8, lines 204-205. )With some hesitation as to lore, I reprint these lines as they are givenby Shelley himself in the note on this passage (supra). The text of 1813runs:--Which from the exhaustless store of human wealDraws on the virtuous mind, etc. This is retained by Woodberry, while Rossetti, Forman, and Dowden adopteclectic texts, Forman and Dowden reading lore and Draws, whileRossetti, again, reads store and Dawns. Our text is supported by theauthority of Dr. Richard Garnett. The comma after infiniteness (line206) has a metrical, not a logical, value. 

11. Nor searing Reason with the brand of God. (9, line 48. )Removed from the text, "Poetical Works", 1839 (1st edition), by Mrs. Shelley, who failed, doubtless through an oversight, to restore it inthe second edition. See Notes 3, 6, and 9 above. 

12. Where neither avarice, cunning, pride, nor care, etc. (9, line 67. )The editio princeps reads pride, or care, which is retained by Formanand Woodberry. With Rossetti and Dowden, I follow Mrs. Shelley's text, "Poetical Works", 1839 (both editions). 

NOTES TO QUEEN MAB. 

1. The mine, big with destructive power, burst under me, etc. (Note on 7 67. )This is the reading of the "Poetical Works" of 1839 (2nd edition). Theeditio princeps (1813) reads burst upon me. Doubtless under was intendedby Shelley: the occurrence, thrice over, of upon in the ten linespreceding would account for the unconscious substitution of the wordhere, either by the printer, or perhaps by Shelley himself in histranscript for the press. 

2.... It cannot arise from reasoning, etc. (Note on 7 135. )The editio princeps (1813) has conviction for reasoning here--an obviouserror of the press, overlooked by Mrs. Shelley in 1839, and perpetuatedin his several editions of the poems by Mr. H. Buxton Forman. Reasoning, Mr. W. M. Rossetti's conjectural emendation, is manifestly the right wordhere, and has been adopted by Dowden and Woodberry. 

3. Him, still from hope to hope, etc. (Note on 8 203-207. )See editor's note 10 on "Queen Mab" above. 

1. A DIALOGUE. --The titles of this poem, of the stanzas "On an Icicle", etc. , and of the lines "To Death", were first given by Professor Dowden("Poetical Works of P. B. S. ", 1890) from the Esdaile manuscript book. The textual corrections from the same quarter (see footnotes passim) arealso owing to Professor Dowden. 

2. ORIGINAL POETRY BY VICTOR AND CAZIRE. --Dr. Garnett, who in 1898 editedfor Mr. John Lane a reprint of these long-lost verses, identifies"Victor's" coadjutrix, "Cazire", with Elizabeth Shelley, the poet'ssister. 'The two initial pieces are the only two which can be attributedto Elizabeth Shelley with absolute certainty, though others in thevolume may possibly belong to her' (Garnett). 

3. SAINT EDMOND'S EVE. This ballad-tale was "conveyed" in its entirety by"Cazire" from Matthew Gregory Lewis's "Tales of Terror", 1801, where itappears under the title of "The Black Canon of Elmham; or, SaintEdmond's Eve". Stockdale, the publisher of "Victor and Cazire", detectedthe imposition, and communicated his discovery to Shelley--when 'withall the ardour natural to his character he [Shelley] expressed thewarmest resentment at the imposition practised upon him by hiscoadjutor, and entreated me to destroy all the copies, of which aboutone hundred had been put into circulation. '

4. TO MARY WHO DIED IN THIS OPINION. --From a letter addressed by Shelley toMiss Hitchener, dated November 23, 1811. 

5. A TALE OF SOCIETY. --The titles of this and the following piece werefirst given by Professor Dowden from the Esdaile manuscript, from whichalso one or two corrections in the text of both poems, made inMacmillan's edition of 1890, were derived. 

***

A LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL EDITIONS OF SHELLEY'S POETICAL WORKS, SHOWING THE VARIOUS PRINTED SOURCES OF THE CONTENTS OF THIS EDITION. 

1. (1) Original Poetry; : By : Victor and Cazire. : Call it not vain:--theydo not err, : Who say, that, when the poet dies, : Mute Nature mournsher worshipper. : "Lay of the Last Minstrel. " : Worthing : Printed by C. And W. Phillips, : for the Authors; : And sold by J. J. Stockdale, 41, Pall-Mall, : And all other Booksellers. 1810. 

(2) Original : Poetry : By : Victor & Cazire : [Percy Bysshe Shelley : &Elizabeth Shelley] : Edited by : Richard Garnett C. B. , LL. D. : Publishedby : John Lane, at the Sign : of the Bodley Head in : London and NewYork : MDCCCXCVIII. 

2. Posthumous Fragments : of : Margaret Nicholson; : Being Poems FoundAmongst the Papers of that : Noted Female who attempted the Life : ofthe King in 1786. : Edited by : John Fitz-Victor. : Oxford: : Printedand sold by J. Munday : 1810. 

3. St. Irvyne; : or, : The Rosicrucian. : A Romance. : By : A Gentleman :of the University of Oxford. : London: : Printed for J. J. Stockdale, :41, Pall Mall. : 1811. 

4. The Devil's Walk; a Ballad. Printed as a broadside, 1812. 

5. Queen Mab; : a : Philosophical Poem: : with Notes. : By : Percy ByssheShelley. : Ecrasez l'Infame! : "Correspondance de Voltaire. " : AviaPieridum peragro loca, nullius ante : Trita solo; iuvat integrosaccedere fonteis; : Atque haurire: iuratque (sic) novos decerpereflores. : Unde prius nulli velarint tempora nausae. : Primum quod magnisdoceo de rebus; et arctis : Religionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo. :Lucret. Lib. 4 : Dos pou sto, kai kosmon kineso. : Archimedes. : London:: Printed by P. B. Shelley, : 23, Chapel Street, Grosvenor Square. :1813. 

6. Alastor; : or, : The Spirit of Solitude: : and Other Poems. : By : PercyBysshe Shelley : London : Printed for Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, Pater-:noster Row; and Carpenter and Son, : Old Bond Street: : By S. Hamilton, Weybridge, Surrey : 1816. 

7. (1) Laon and Cythna; : or, : The Revolution : of : the Golden City: : AVision of the Nineteenth Century. : In the Stanza of Spenser. : By :Percy B. Shelley. : Dos pou sto, kai kosmon kineso. : Archimedes. :London: : Printed for Sherwood, Neely, & Jones, Paternoster-:Row; and C. And J. Ollier, Welbeck-Street: : By B. M'Millan, Bow-Street, Covent-Garden. : 1818. 

(2) The : Revolt of Islam; : A Poem, : in Twelve Cantos. : By : PercyBysshe Shelley. : London: : Printed for C. And J. Ollier, Welbeck-Street; : By B. M'Millan, Bow-Street, Covent-Garden. : 1818. 

(3) A few copies of "The Revolt of Islam" bear date 1817 instead of1818. 

(4) 'The same sheets were used again in 1829 with a third title-pagesimilar to the foregoing [2], but with the imprint "London: : Printedfor John Brooks, : 421 Oxford-Street. : 1829. "' (H. Buxton Forman, C. B. :The Shelley Library, page 73. )

(5) 'Copies of the 1829 issue of "The Revolt of Islam" not infrequentlyoccur with "Laon and Cythna" text. ' (Ibid. , page 73. )

8. Rosalind and Helen, : A Modern Eclogue; : With Other Poems: : By : PercyBysshe Shelley. : London: : Printed for C. And J. Ollier, : Vere Street, Bond Street. : 1819. 

9. (1) The Cenci. : A Tragedy, : In Five Acts. : By Percy B. Shelley. :Italy. : Printed for C. And J. Ollier, : Vere Street, Bond Street. :London. : 1819. 

(2) The Cenci : A Tragedy : In Five Acts : By : Percy Bysshe Shelley :Second Edition : London : C. And J. Ollier Vere Street Bond Street :1821. 

10. Prometheus Unbound : A Lyrical Drama : In Four Acts : With Other Poems :By : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Audisne haec, Amphiarae, sub terram abdite?: London : C. And J. Ollier Vere Street Bond Street : 1820. 

11. Oedipus Tyrannus; : or, : Swellfoot The Tyrant. : A Tragedy. : In TwoActs. : Translated from the Original Doric. : --Choose Reform orcivil-war, : When thro' thy streets, instead of hare with dogs, ACONSORT-QUEEN shall hunt a KING with hogs, : Riding on the IONIANMINOTAUR. : London: : Published for the Author, : By J. Johnston, 98, Cheapside, and sold by all booksellers. : 1820. 

12. Epipsychidion : Verses Addressed to the Noble : And Unfortunate Lady :Emilia V-- : Now Imprisoned in the Convent of -- : L' anima amante sislancia fuori del creato, e si crea nel infinito : un Mondo tutto peressa, diverso assai da questo oscuro e pauroso : baratro. Her Own Words. : London : C. And J. Ollier Vere Street Bond Street : MDCCCXXI. 

13. (1) Adonais : An Elegy on the Death of John Keats, : Author of Endymion, Hyperion etc. : By : Percy B. Shelley : Aster prin men elampes enizooisin eoos. : Nun de thanon, lampeis esmeros en phthimenois. : Plato. : Pisa : With the Types of Didot : MDCCCXXI. 

(2) Adonais. : An Elegy : on the : Death of John Keats, : Author ofEndymion, Hyperion, etc. : By : Percy B. Shelley. : [Motto as in (1)]Cambridge: : Printed by W. Metcalfe, : and sold by Messrs. Gee &Bridges, Market-Hill. : MDCCCXXIX. 

14. Hellas : A Lyrical Drama : By : Percy B. Shelley : MANTIS EIM' ESTHAON'AGONON : Oedip. Colon. : London : Charles and James Ollier Vere Street: Bond Street : MDCCCXXII. (The last work issued in Shelley's lifetime. )

15. Posthumous Poems : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley. : In nobil sangue vitaumile e queta, : Ed in alto intelletto on puro core; : Frutto senile insul giovenil fiore, : E in aspetto pensoso anima lieta. : Petrarca. :London, 1824: : Printed for John and Henry L. Hunt, : Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. (Edited by Mrs. Shelley. )

16. The : Masque of Anarchy. : A Poem. : By Percy Bysshe Shelley. Now firstpublished, with a Preface : by Leigh Hunt. : Hope is Strong; : Justiceand Truth their winged child have found. : "Revolt of Islam". : London:: Edward Moxon, 64, New Bond Street. : 1832. 

17. The Shelley Papers : Memoir : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : By T. Medwin, Esq. : And : Original Poems and Papers : By Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Nowfirst collected. : London: : Whittaker, Treacher, & Co. : 1833. (The Poems occupy pages 109-126. )

18. The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Edited : by MrsShelley. : Lui non trov' io, ma suoi santi vestigi : Tutti rivolti allasuperna strada : Veggio, lunge da' laghi averni e stigi. --Petrarca. : InFour Volumes. : Vol. 1 [2 3 4] : London: : Edward Moxon, Dover Street. :MDCCCXXXIX. 

19. (1) The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley: [Vignette ofShelley's Tomb. ] London. : Edward Moxon, Dover Street. : 1839. (This is the engraved title-page. The printed title-page runs:--)

(2) The : Poetical Works : of Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Edited : By Mrs. Shelley. : [Motto from Petrarch as in 18] London: : Edward Moxon, DoverStreet. : M. DCCC. XL. (Large octavo, printed in double columns. The Dedication is dated 11thNovember, 1839. )

20. Essays, : Letters from Abroad, : Translations and Fragments, : By :Percy Bysshe Shelley. : Edited : By Mrs. Shelley. : [Long prose mottotranslated from Schiller] : In Two Volumes. : Volume 1 [2] : London: :Edward Moxon, Dover Street. : MDCCCXL. 

21. Relics of Shelley. : Edited by : Richard Garnett. : [Lines 20-24 of "ToJane": 'The keen stars, ' etc. ] : London: : Edward Moxon & Co. , DoverStreet. : 1862. 

22. The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley: : Including VariousAdditional Pieces : From Manuscript and Other Sources. : The Textcarefully revised, with Notes and : A Memoir, : By William MichaelRossetti. : Volume 1 [2] : [Moxon's Device. ] : London: : E. Moxon, Son, & Co. , 44 Dover Street, W. : 1870. 

23. The Daemon of the World : By : Percy Bysshe Shelley : The First Part :as published in 1816 with "Alastor" : The Second Part : Deciphered andnow First Printed from his own Manuscript : Revision and Interpolationsin the Newly Discovered : Copy of "Queen Mab" : London : Privatelyprinted by H. Buxton Forman : 38 Marlborough Hill : 1876. 

24. The Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Edited by : HarryBuxton Forman : In Four Volumes : Volume 1 [2 3 4] London : Reeves andTurner 196 Strand : 1876. 

25. The Complete : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley. : The Textcarefully revised with Notes and : A Memoir, : by : William MichaelRossetti. : In Three Volumes. : Volume 1 [2 3] London: : E. Moxon, Son, And Co. , : Dorset Buildings, Salisbury Square, E. C. : 1878. 

26. The Poetical Works : of Percy Bysshe Shelley : Given from His OwnEditions and Other Authentic Sources : Collated with many Manuscriptsand with all Editions of Authority : Together with Prefaces and Notes :His Poetical Translations and Fragments : and an Appendix of : Juvenilia: [Publisher's Device. ] Edited by Harry Buxton Forman : In Two Volumes. : Volume 1 [2] London : Reeves and Turner, 196, Strand : 1882. 

27. The : Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Edited by : EdwardDowden : London : Macmillan and Co, Limited : New York: The MacmillanCompany : 1900. 

28. The Poetical Works of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : Edited with a Memoir by :H. Buxton Forman : In Five Volumes [Publisher's Device. ] Volume 1 [2 3 45] London : George Bell and Sons : 1892. 

29. The : Complete Poetical Works : of : Percy Bysshe Shelley : The Textnewly collated and revised : and Edited with a Memoir and Notes : ByGeorge Edward Woodberry : Centenary Edition : In Four Volumes : Volume 1[2 3 4] [Publisher's Device. ] London : Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner andCo. : Limited : 1893. 

30. An Examination of the : Shelley Manuscripts : In the Bodleian Library :Being a collation thereof with the printed : texts, resulting in thepublication of : several long fragments hitherto unknown, : and theintroduction of many improved : readings into "Prometheus Unbound", and: other poems, by : C. D. Locock, B. A. : Oxford : At the Clarendon Press: 1903. 

The early poems from the Esdaile manuscript book, which are included inthis edition by the kind permission of the owner of the volume, CharlesE. J. Esdaile, Esq. , appeared for the first time in Professor Dowden's"Life of Percy Bysshe Shelley", published in the year 1887. 

One poem from the same volume; entitled "The Wandering Jew's Soliloquy", was printed in one of the Shelley Society Publications (Second Series, No. 12), a reprint of "The Wandering Jew", edited by Mr. Bertram Dobellin 1887. 

***

INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

A cat in distress :A gentle story of two lovers young :A glorious people vibrated again :A golden-winged Angel stood :A Hater he came and sat by a ditch :A man who was about to hang himself :A pale Dream came to a Lady fair :A portal as of shadowy adamant :A rainbow's arch stood on the sea :A scene, which 'wildered fancy viewed :A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew :A shovel of his ashes took :A widow bird sate mourning :A woodman whose rough heart was out of tune :Ah! faint are her limbs, and her footstep is weary :Ah! grasp the dire dagger and couch the fell spear :Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill :Ah, sister! Desolation is a delicate thing :Ah! sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain :Alas! for Liberty! :Alas, good friend, what profit can you see :Alas! this is not what I thought life was :Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled :Amid the desolation of a city :Among the guests who often stayed :An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king :And can'st thou mock mine agony, thus calm :And earnest to explore within--around :And ever as he went he swept a lyre :And, if my grief should still be dearer to me :And like a dying lady, lean and pale :And many there were hurt by that strong boy :And Peter Bell, when he had been :And said I that all hope was fled :And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal :And the cloven waters like a chasm of mountains :And when the old man saw that on the green :And where is truth? On tombs? for such to thee :And who feels discord now or sorrow? :Arethusa arose :Ariel to Miranda:--Take :Arise, arise, arise! :Art thou indeed forever gone :Art thou pale for weariness :As a violet's gentle eye :As from an ancestral oak :As I lay asleep in Italy :As the sunrise to the night :Ask not the pallid stranger's woe :At the creation of the Earth :Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon :

Bear witness, Erin! when thine injured isle :Before those cruel Twins, whom at one birth :Beside the dimness of the glimmering sea :Best and brightest, come away! :Break the dance, and scatter the song :Bright ball of flame that through the gloom of even :Bright clouds float in heaven :Bright wanderer, fair coquette of Heaven :Brothers! between you and me :'Buona notte, buona notte!'--Come mai :By the mossy brink :

Chameleons feed on light and air :Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling :Come, be happy!--sit near me :Come [Harriet]! sweet is the hour :Come hither, my sweet Rosalind :Come, thou awakener of the spirit's ocean :Corpses are cold in the tomb :

Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind :Dar'st thou amid the varied multitude :Darkness has dawned in the East :Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody :Dear home, thou scene of earliest hopes and joys :Dearest, best and brightest :Death is here and death is there :Death! where is thy victory? :Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end?Do you not hear the Aziola cry? :

Eagle! why soarest thou above that tomb? :Earth, ocean, air, beloved brotherhood :Echoes we: listen!Ever as now with Love and Virtue's glow :

Faint with love, the Lady of the South :Fairest of the Destinies :False friend, wilt thou smile or weep :Far, far away, O ye :Fiend, I defy thee! with a calm, fixed mind :Fierce roars the midnight storm :Flourishing vine, whose kindling clusters glow :Follow to the deep wood's weeds :For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble :For my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave :For your letter, dear [Hattie], accept my best thanks :From all the blasts of heaven thou hast descended :From the cities where from caves :From the ends of the earth, from the ends of the earth :From the forests and highlands :From unremembered ages we :

Gather, O gather :Ghosts of the dead! have I not heard your yelling :God prosper, speed, and save :Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill :Great Spirit whom the sea of boundless thought :Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, and I :

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! :Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind :Hark! the owlet flaps her wing :Hark! the owlet flaps his wings :Hast thou not seen, officious with delight :He came like a dream in the dawn of life :He wanders, like a day-appearing dream :Hell is a city much like London :Her hair was brown, her sphered eyes were brown :Her voice did quiver as we parted :Here I sit with my paper, my pen and my ink :'Here lieth One whose name was writ on water' :Here, my dear friend, is a new book for you :Here, oh, here :Hic sinu fessum caput hospitali :His face was like a snake's--wrinkled and loose :Honey from silkworms who can gather :Hopes, that swell in youthful breasts :How eloquent are eyes :How, my dear Mary, --are you critic-bitten :How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner :How sweet it is to sit and read the tales :How swiftly through Heaven's wide expanse :How wonderful is Death :How wonderful is Death :

I am afraid these verses will not please you, but :I am as a spirit who has dwelt :I am drunk with the honey wine :I arise from dreams of thee :I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers :I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way :I dreamed that Milton's spirit rose, and took :I faint, I perish with my love! I grow :I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden :I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan :I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake :I loved--alas! our life is love :I met a traveller from an antique land :I mourn Adonis dead--loveliest Adonis :I pant for the music which is divine :I rode one evening with Count Maddalo :I sate beside a sage's bed :I sate beside the Steersman then, and gazing :I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes :I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret :I stood within the City disinterred :I weep for Adonais--he is dead' :I went into the deserts of dim sleep :I would not be a king--enough :If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains :If I esteemed you less, Envy would kill :If I walk in Autumn's even :In the cave which wild weeds cover :In the sweet solitude of this calm place :Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula colles :Is it that in some brighter sphere :Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He :Is not to-day enough? Why do I peer :It is not blasphemy to hope that Heaven :It is the day when all the sons of God :It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky :It was a bright and cheerful afternoon :

Kissing Helena, together :

Let there be light! said Liberty :Let those who pine in pride or in revenge :Life of Life! thy lips enkindle :Lift not the painted veil which those who live :Like the ghost of a dear friend dead :Listen, listen, Mary mine :Lo, Peter in Hell's Grosvenor Square :

Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me :Maiden, quench the glare of sorrow :Many a green isle needs must be :Melodious Arethusa, o'er my verse :Men of England, wherefore plough :Methought I was a billow in the crowd :Mighty eagle! thou that soarest :Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed :Monarch of Gods and Daemons, and all Spirits :Month after month the gathered rains descend :Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale :Muse, sing the deeds of golden Aphrodite :Music, when soft voices die :My coursers are fed with the lightning :My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone :My faint spirit was sitting in the light :My head is heavy, my limbs are weary :My head is wild with weeping for a grief :My lost William, thou in whom :My Song, I fear that thou wilt find but few :My soul is an enchanted boat :My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim :My thoughts arise and fade in solitude :My wings are folded o'er mine ears :

Night, with all thine eyes look down! :Night! with all thine eyes look down! :No access to the Duke! You have not said :No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love' :No trump tells thy virtues :Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame :Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill :Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still :Now the last day of many days :

O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now :O happy Earth! reality of Heaven :O Mary dear, that you were here :O mighty mind, in whose deep stream this age :O pillow cold and wet with tears! :O Slavery! thou frost of the world's prime :O that a chariot of cloud were mine! :O that mine enemy had written :O thou bright Sun! beneath the dark blue line :O thou immortal deity :O thou, who plumed with strong desire :O universal Mother, who dost keep :O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being :O world! O life! O time! :Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once more :Oh! did you observe the black Canon pass :Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes :Oh! there are spirits of the air :Oh! what is the gain of restless care :On a battle-trumpet's blast :On a poet's lips I slept :On the brink of the night and the morning :Once, early in the morning :One sung of thee who left the tale untold :One word is too often profaned :Orphan Hours, the Year is dead :Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream :Our spoil is won :Out of the eastern shadow of the Earth :Over the utmost hill at length I sped :

Palace-roof of cloudless nights! :Pan loved his neighbour Echo--but that child :People of England, ye who toil and groan :Peter Bells, one, two and three :Place, for the Marshal of the Masque! :Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know :Prince Athanase had one beloved friend :

Rarely, rarely, comest thou :Reach me that handkerchief!--My brain is hurt :Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit :Rome has fallen, ye see it lying :Rough wind, that moanest loud :

Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth :See yon opening flower :Serene in his unconquerable might :Shall we roam, my love :She comes not; yet I left her even now :She left me at the silent time :She saw me not--she heard me not--alone :She was an aged woman; and the years :Silence! Oh, well are Death and Sleep and Thou :Silver key of the fountain of tears :Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove :Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain :So now my summer task is ended, Mary :So we sate joyous as the morning ray :Stern, stern is the voice of fate's fearful command :Such hope, as is the sick despair of good :Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds :Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring :Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan one :Sweet star, which gleaming o'er the darksome scene :Swift as a spirit hastening to his task :Swifter far than summer's flight :Swiftly walk o'er the western wave :

Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light :That matter of the murder is hushed up :That night we anchored in a woody bay :That time is dead for ever, child! :The awful shadow of some unseen Power :The babe is at peace within the womb :The billows on the beach are leaping around it :The cold earth slept below :The curtain of the Universe :The death-bell beats! :The death knell is ringing :The Devil, I safely can aver :The Devil now knew his proper cue :The Elements respect their Maker's seal! :The everlasting universe of things :The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses :The fiery mountains answer each other :The fitful alternations of the rain :The flower that smiles to-day :The fountains mingle with the river :The gentleness of rain was in the wind :The golden gates of Sleep unbar :The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness :The keen stars were twinkling :The odour from the flower is gone :The old man took the oars, and soon the bark :The pale stars are gone :The pale stars of the morn :The pale, the cold, and the moony smile :The path through which that lovely twain :The rose that drinks the fountain dew :The rude wind is singing :The season was the childhood of sweet June :The serpent is shut out from Paradise :The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie :The spider spreads her webs, whether she be :The starlight smile of children, the sweet looks :The stars may dissolve, and the fountain of light :The sun is set; the swallows are asleep :The sun is warm, the sky is clear :The sun makes music as of old :The transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness :The viewless and invisible Consequence :The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth :The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing :The waters are flashing :The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere :The world is dreary :The world is now our dwelling-place :The world's great age begins anew :Then weave the web of the mystic measure :There is a voice, not understood by all :There is a warm and gentle atmosphere :There late was One within whose subtle being :There was a little lawny islet :There was a youth, who, as with toil and travel :These are two friends whose lives were undivided :They die--the dead return not--Misery :Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil :Thou art fair, and few are fairer :Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all :Thou living light that in thy rainbow hues :Thou supreme Goddess! by whose power divine :Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be :Thou wert the morning star among the living :Thrice three hundred thousand years :Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die :Thy beauty hangs around thee like :Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest :Thy dewy looks sink in my breast :Thy little footsteps on the sands :Thy look of love has power to calm :'Tis midnight now--athwart the murky air :'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail :To me this world's a dreary blank :To the deep, to the deep :To thirst and find no fill--to wail and wander :Tremble, Kings despised of man :'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings :'Twas at this season that Prince Athanase :'Twas dead of the night, when I sat in my dwelling :'Twas dead of the night when I sate in my dwelling :

Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years :Unrisen splendour of the brightest sun :

Vessels of heavenly medicine! may the breeze :Victorious Wrong, with vulture scream :

Wake the serpent not--lest he :Was there a human spirit in the steed :We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon :We come from the mind :We join the throng :We meet not as we parted :We strew these opiate flowers :Wealth and dominion fade into the mass :Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze :Weep not, my gentle boy; he struck but me :What! alive and so bold, O Earth? :What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest :What Mary is when she a little smiles :What men gain fairly--that they should possess :'What think you the dead are?' :What thoughts had sway o'er Cythna's lonely slumber :What was the shriek that struck Fancy's ear :When a lover clasps his fairest :When May is painting with her colours gay :When passion's trance is overpast :When soft winds and sunny skies :When the lamp is shattered :When the last hope of trampled France had failed :When winds that move not its calm surface sweep :Where art thou, beloved To-morrow? :Where man's profane and tainting hand :Whose is the love that gleaming through the world :Why is it said thou canst not live :Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one :Wilt thou forget the happy hours :Within a cavern of man's trackless spirit :Worlds on worlds are rolling ever :Would I were the winged cloud :

Ye congregated powers of heaven, who share :Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud :Ye gentle visitations of calm thought :Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there :Ye who intelligent the Third Heaven move :Ye wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove :Yes! all is past--swift time has fled away :Yes, often when the eyes are cold and dry :Yet look on me--take not thine eyes away :You said that spirits spoke, but it was thee :Your call was as a winged car :