The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 127

It is a modest creed, and yet Pleasant if one considers it, To own that death itself must be, Like all the rest, a mockery.

That garden sweet, that lady fair, _130 And all sweet shapes and odours there, In truth have never pa.s.sed away: 'Tis we, 'tis ours, are changed; not they.

For love, and beauty, and delight, There is no death nor change: their might _135 Exceeds our organs, which endure No light, being themselves obscure.

NOTES: _19 lovely Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1839; lively 1820.

_23 of the morning 1820, 1839; of morning Harvard ma.n.u.script.

_26 snow Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1839; now 1820.

_28 And lilies were drooping, white and wan Harvard ma.n.u.script.

_32 Leaf by leaf, day after day Harvard ma.n.u.script; Leaf after leaf, day after day 1820; Leaf after leaf, day by day 1839.

_63 mist]mists Harvard ma.n.u.script.

_96 and sudden flight]and their sudden flight the Harvard ma.n.u.script.

_98 And under]Under Harvard ma.n.u.script.

_114 Whether]And if Harvard ma.n.u.script.

_118 Whether]Or if Harvard ma.n.u.script.

CANCELLED Pa.s.sAGE.

[This stanza followed 3, 62-65 in the editio princeps, 1820, but was omitted by Mrs. Sh.e.l.ley from all editions from 1839 onwards. It is cancelled in the Harvard ma.n.u.script.]

Their moss rotted off them, flake by flake, Till the thick stalk stuck like a murderer's stake, Where rags of loose flesh yet tremble on high, Infecting the winds that wander by.

A VISION OF THE SEA.

[Composed at Pisa early in 1820, and published with "Prometheus Unbound" in the same year. A transcript in Mrs. Sh.e.l.ley's handwriting is included in the Harvard ma.n.u.script book, where it is dated 'April, 1820.']

'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale: From the stark night of vapours the dim rain is driven, And when lightning is loosed, like a deluge from Heaven, She sees the black trunks of the waterspouts spin _5 And bend, as if Heaven was ruining in, Which they seemed to sustain with their terrible ma.s.s As if ocean had sunk from beneath them: they pa.s.s To their graves in the deep with an earthquake of sound, And the waves and the thunders, made silent around, _10 Leave the wind to its echo. The vessel, now tossed Through the low-trailing rack of the tempest, is lost In the skirts of the thunder-cloud: now down the sweep Of the wind-cloven wave to the chasm of the deep It sinks, and the walls of the watery vale _15 Whose depths of dread calm are unmoved by the gale, Dim mirrors of ruin, hang gleaming about; While the surf, like a chaos of stars, like a rout Of death-flames, like whirlpools of fire-flowing iron, With splendour and terror the black s.h.i.+p environ, _20 Or like sulphur-flakes hurled from a mine of pale fire In fountains spout o'er it. In many a spire The pyramid-billows with white points of brine In the cope of the lightning inconstantly s.h.i.+ne, As piercing the sky from the floor of the sea. _25 The great s.h.i.+p seems splitting! it cracks as a tree, While an earthquake is splintering its root, ere the blast Of the whirlwind that stripped it of branches has pa.s.sed.

The intense thunder-b.a.l.l.s which are raining from Heaven Have shattered its mast, and it stands black and riven. _30 The c.h.i.n.ks suck destruction. The heavy dead hulk On the living sea rolls an inanimate bulk, Like a corpse on the clay which is hungering to fold Its corruption around it. Meanwhile, from the hold, One deck is burst up by the waters below, _35 And it splits like the ice when the thaw-breezes blow O'er the lakes of the desert! Who sit on the other?

Is that all the crew that lie burying each other, Like the dead in a breach, round the foremast? Are those Twin tigers, who burst, when the waters arose, _40 In the agony of terror, their chains in the hold; (What now makes them tame, is what then made them bold;) Who crouch, side by side, and have driven, like a crank, The deep grip of their claws through the vibrating plank Are these all? Nine weeks the tall vessel had lain _45 On the windless expanse of the watery plain, Where the death-darting sun cast no shadow at noon, And there seemed to be fire in the beams of the moon, Till a lead-coloured fog gathered up from the deep, Whose breath was quick pestilence; then, the cold sleep _50 Crept, like blight through the ears of a thick field of corn, O'er the populous vessel. And even and morn, With their hammocks for coffins the seamen aghast Like dead men the dead limbs of their comrades cast Down the deep, which closed on them above and around, _55 And the sharks and the dogfish their grave-clothes unbound, And were glutted like Jews with this manna rained down From G.o.d on their wilderness. One after one The mariners died; on the eve of this day, When the tempest was gathering in cloudy array, _60 But seven remained. Six the thunder has smitten, And they lie black as mummies on which Time has written His scorn of the embalmer; the seventh, from the deck An oak-splinter pierced through his breast and his back, And hung out to the tempest, a wreck on the wreck. _65 No more? At the helm sits a woman more fair Than Heaven, when, unbinding its star-braided hair, It sinks with the sun on the earth and the sea.

She clasps a bright child on her upgathered knee; It laughs at the lightning, it mocks the mixed thunder _70 Of the air and the sea, with desire and with wonder It is beckoning the tigers to rise and come near, It would play with those eyes where the radiance of fear Is outs.h.i.+ning the meteors; its bosom beats high, The heart-fire of pleasure has kindled its eye, _75 While its mother's is l.u.s.treless. 'Smile not, my child, But sleep deeply and sweetly, and so be beguiled Of the pang that awaits us, whatever that be, So dreadful since thou must divide it with me!

Dream, sleep! This pale bosom, thy cradle and bed, _80 Will it rock thee not, infant? 'Tis beating with dread!

Alas! what is life, what is death, what are we, That when the s.h.i.+p sinks we no longer may be?

What! to see thee no more, and to feel thee no more?

To be after life what we have been before? _85 Not to touch those sweet hands? Not to look on those eyes, Those lips, and that hair,--all the smiling disguise Thou yet wearest, sweet Spirit, which I, day by day, Have so long called my child, but which now fades away Like a rainbow, and I the fallen shower?'--Lo! the s.h.i.+p _90 Is settling, it topples, the leeward ports dip; The tigers leap up when they feel the slow brine Crawling inch by inch on them; hair, ears, limbs, and eyne, Stand rigid with horror; a loud, long, hoa.r.s.e cry Bursts at once from their vitals tremendously, _95 And 'tis borne down the mountainous vale of the wave, Rebounding, like thunder, from crag to cave, Mixed with the clash of the las.h.i.+ng rain, Hurried on by the might of the hurricane: The hurricane came from the west, and pa.s.sed on _100 By the path of the gate of the eastern sun, Transversely dividing the stream of the storm; As an arrowy serpent, pursuing the form Of an elephant, bursts through the brakes of the waste.

Black as a cormorant the screaming blast, _105 Between Ocean and Heaven, like an ocean, pa.s.sed, Till it came to the clouds on the verge of the world Which, based on the sea and to Heaven upcurled, Like columns and walls did surround and sustain The dome of the tempest; it rent them in twain, _110 As a flood rends its barriers of mountainous crag: And the dense clouds in many a ruin and rag, Like the stones of a temple ere earthquake has pa.s.sed, Like the dust of its fall. on the whirlwind are cast; They are scattered like foam on the torrent; and where _115 The wind has burst out through the chasm, from the air Of clear morning the beams of the sunrise flow in, Unimpeded, keen, golden, and crystalline, Banded armies of light and of air; at one gate They encounter, but interpenetrate. _120 And that breach in the tempest is widening away, And the caverns of cloud are torn up by the day, And the fierce winds are sinking with weary wings, Lulled by the motion and murmurings And the long gla.s.sy heave of the rocking sea, _125 And overhead glorious, but dreadful to see, The wrecks of the tempest, like vapours of gold, Are consuming in sunrise. The heaped waves behold The deep calm of blue Heaven dilating above, And, like pa.s.sions made still by the presence of Love, _130 Beneath the clear surface reflecting it slide Tremulous with soft influence; extending its tide From the Andes to Atlas, round mountain and isle, Round sea-birds and wrecks, paved with Heaven's azure smile, The wide world of waters is vibrating. Where _135 Is the s.h.i.+p? On the verge of the wave where it lay One tiger is mingled in ghastly affray With a sea-snake. The foam and the smoke of the battle Stain the clear air with sunbows; the jar, and the rattle Of solid bones crushed by the infinite stress _140 Of the snake's adamantine voluminousness; And the hum of the hot blood that spouts and rains Where the gripe of the tiger has wounded the veins Swollen with rage, strength, and effort; the whirl and the splash As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth smash _145 The thin winds and soft waves into thunder; the screams And hissings crawl fast o'er the smooth ocean-streams, Each sound like a centipede. Near this commotion, A blue shark is hanging within the blue ocean, The fin-winged tomb of the victor. The other _150 Is winning his way from the fate of his brother To his own with the speed of despair. Lo! a boat Advances; twelve rowers with the impulse of thought Urge on the keen keel,--the brine foams. At the stern Three marksmen stand levelling. Hot bullets burn _155 In the breast of the tiger, which yet bears him on To his refuge and ruin. One fragment alone,-- 'Tis dwindling and sinking, 'tis now almost gone,-- Of the wreck of the vessel peers out of the sea.

With her left hand she grasps it impetuously. _160 With her right she sustains her fair infant. Death, Fear, Love, Beauty, are mixed in the atmosphere, Which trembles and burns with the fervour of dread Around her wild eyes, her bright hand, and her head, Like a meteor of light o'er the waters! her child _165 Is yet smiling, and playing, and murmuring; so smiled The false deep ere the storm. Like a sister and brother The child and the ocean still smile on each other, Whilst--

NOTES: _6 ruining Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1839; raining 1820.

_8 sunk Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1839; sank 1820.

_35 by Harvard ma.n.u.script; from 1820, 1839.

_61 has 1820; had 1839.

_87 all the Harvard ma.n.u.script; all that 1820, 1839.

_116 through Harvard ma.n.u.script; from 1820, 1839.

_121 away]alway cj. A.C. Bradley.

_122 cloud Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1839; clouds 1820.

_160 impetuously 1820, 1839; convulsively Harvard ma.n.u.script.

THE CLOUD.

[Published with "Prometheus Unbound", 1820.]

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken _5 The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of the las.h.i.+ng hail, And whiten the green plains under, _10 And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pa.s.s in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, _15 While I sleep in the arms of the blast.

Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, Lightning my pilot sits; In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, It struggles and howls at fits; _20 Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills. _25 Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains. _30

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning star s.h.i.+nes dead; As on the jag of a mountain crag, _35 Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.

And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardours of rest and of love, _40 And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of Heaven above.

With wings folded I rest, on mine aery nest, As still as a brooding dove.

That orbed maiden with white fire laden, _45 Whom mortals call the Moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, _50 May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof.

The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees.

When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, _55 Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone, And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl; _60 The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.

From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, Over a torrent sea, Sunbeam-proof, I hand like a roof,-- _65 The mountains its columns be.

The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair, Is the million-coloured bow; _70 The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, While the moist Earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pa.s.s through the pores of the ocean and sh.o.r.es; _75 I change, but I cannot die.

For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, _80 I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.

NOTES: _3 shade 1820; shades 1839.

_6 buds 1839; birds 1820.

_59 with a 1820; with the 1830.

TO A SKYLARK.

[Composed at Leghorn, 1820, and published with "Prometheus Unbound" in the same year. There is a transcript in the Harvard ma.n.u.script.]

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!

Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. _5

Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. _10

In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright'ning.