The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 103

'WHEN SOFT WINDS AND SUNNY SKIES'.

'AND THAT I WALK THUS PROUDLY CROWNED'.

'THE RUDE WIND IS SINGING'.

'GREAT SPIRIT'.

'O THOU IMMORTAL DEITY'.

THE FALSE LAUREL AND THE TRUE.

MAY THE LIMNER.

BEAUTY'S HALO.

'THE DEATH KNELL IS RINGING'.

'I STOOD UPON A HEAVEN-CLEAVING TURRET'.

NOTE ON POEMS OF 1821, BY MRS. Sh.e.l.lEY.

POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822:

THE ZUCCA.

THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT.

LINES: 'WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED'.

TO JANE: THE INVITATION.

TO JANE: THE RECOLLECTION.

THE PINE FOREST OF THE CASCINE NEAR PISA.

WITH A GUITAR, TO JANE.

TO JANE: 'THE KEEN STARS WERE TWINKLING'.

A DIRGE.

LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY OF LERICI.

LINES: 'WE MEET NOT AS WE PARTED'.

THE ISLE.

FRAGMENT: TO THE MOON.

EPITAPH.

NOTE ON POEMS OF 1822, BY MRS. Sh.e.l.lEY.

EARLY POEMS [1814, 1815].

[The poems which follow appeared, with a few exceptions, either in the volumes published from time to time by Sh.e.l.ley himself, or in the "Posthumous Poems" of 1824, or in the "Poetical Works" of 1839, of which a second and enlarged edition was published by Mrs. Sh.e.l.ley in the same year. A few made their first appearance in some fugitive publication--such as Leigh Hunt's "Literary Pocket-Book"--and were subsequently incorporated in the collective editions. In every case the editio princeps and (where this is possible) the exact date of composition are indicated below the t.i.tle.]

STANZA, WRITTEN AT BRACKNELL.

[Composed March, 1814. Published in Hogg's "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1858.]

Thy dewy looks sink in my breast; Thy gentle words stir poison there; Thou hast disturbed the only rest That was the portion of despair!

Subdued to Duty's hard control, _5 I could have borne my wayward lot: The chains that bind this ruined soul Had cankered then--but crushed it not.

STANZAS.--APRIL, 1814.

[Composed at Bracknell, April, 1814. Published with "Alastor", 1816.]

Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even: Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.

Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away! _5 Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood: Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay: Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.

Away, away! to thy sad and silent home; Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; _10 Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come, And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.

The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head: The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet: But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead, _15 Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace may meet.

The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose, For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep: Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows; Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its appointed sleep. _20

Thou in the grave shalt rest--yet till the phantoms flee Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile, Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings are not free From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.

NOTE: _6 tear 1816; glance 1839.

TO HARRIET.

[Composed May, 1814. Published (from the Esdaile ma.n.u.script) by Dowden, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1887.]

Thy look of love has power to calm The stormiest pa.s.sion of my soul; Thy gentle words are drops of balm In life's too bitter bowl; No grief is mine, but that alone _5 These choicest blessings I have known.

Harriet! if all who long to live In the warm suns.h.i.+ne of thine eye, That price beyond all pain must give,-- Beneath thy scorn to die; _10 Then hear thy chosen own too late His heart most worthy of thy hate.

Be thou, then, one among mankind Whose heart is harder not for state, Thou only virtuous, gentle, kind, _15 Amid a world of hate; And by a slight endurance seal A fellow-being's lasting weal.

For pale with anguish is his cheek, His breath comes fast, his eyes are dim, _20 Thy name is struggling ere he speak, Weak is each trembling limb; In mercy let him not endure The misery of a fatal cure.

Oh, trust for once no erring guide! _25 Bid the remorseless feeling flee; 'Tis malice, 'tis revenge, 'tis pride, 'Tis anything but thee; Oh, deign a n.o.bler pride to prove, And pity if thou canst not love. _30