The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 185

DEATH: Cease, cease, wayward Mortal! I dare not unveil The 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, _25 And 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 ray Which 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, _35 Yet 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! s.n.a.t.c.h this form to thy shrine, And I fear, dear destroyer, I shall not repine. _40

NOTE: _22 o'er Esdaile ma.n.u.script; on 1858.

TO THE MOONBEAM.

[Published by Hogg, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1858: dated 1809.

Included in the Esdaile ma.n.u.script 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? _5 Is 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 birth Its radiant hues discloses, Flies forth its balmy breath. _15 But mine is the midnight of Death, And Nature's morn To my bosom forlorn Brings but a gloomier night, implants a deadlier thorn.

3.

Wretch! Suppress the glare of madness _20 Struggling 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, _25 When 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 ma.n.u.script wake 1858.

THE SOLITARY.

[Published by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870; dated 1810. Included in the Esdaile ma.n.u.script book.]

1.

Dar'st thou amid the varied mult.i.tude To 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 _5 To Zephyr's pa.s.sing 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 fate As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love: _10 He 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,-- _15 Yet, 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 t.i.tle) by Hogg, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1858; dated 1810.

Included (under the t.i.tle, "To Death") in the Esdaile ma.n.u.script book.]

Death! where is thy victory?

To triumph whilst I die, To triumph whilst thine ebon wing Enfolds my shuddering soul?

O Death! where is thy sting? _5 Not 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 power His blow the mightiest murderer gave, _10 Mid Nature's cries the sacrifice Of 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 void That mortals' baubles sunk decay; That everything, but Love, destroyed Must perish with its kindred clay,-- Perish Ambition's crown, _20 Perish 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, _25 Which lurk beneath the tide Of 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; _30 To baffle the lean pa.s.sions of their prey, To sleep within the palace of the dead!

Oh! not the King, around whose dazzling throne His countless courtiers mock the words they say, Triumphs amid the bud of glory blown, _35 As I in this cold bed, and faint expiring groan!

Tremble, ye proud, whose grandeur mocks the woe Which props the column of unnatural state!

You the plainings, faint and low, From Misery's tortured soul that flow, _40 Shall usher to your fate.

Tremble, ye conquerors, at whose fell command The war-fiend riots o'er a peaceful land!

You Desolation's gory throng Shall bear from Victory along _45 To that mysterious strand.

NOTE: _10 murderer Esdaile ma.n.u.script; murders 1858.

LOVE'S ROSE.

[Published (without t.i.tle) by Hogg, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1858; dated 1810.

Included in the Esdaile ma.n.u.script book.]

1.

Hopes, that swell in youthful b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Live not through the waste of time!

Love's rose a host of thorns invests; Cold, ungenial is the clime, Where its honours blow. _5 Youth 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, _10 Although on earth 'tis planted, Where its honours blow, While by earth's slaves the leaves are riven Which die the while they glow.

3.

Age cannot Love destroy, _15 But perfidy can blast the flower, Even when in most unwary hour It blooms in Fancy's bower.

Age cannot Love destroy, But perfidy can rend the shrine _20 In which its vermeil splendours s.h.i.+ne.

NOTES: Love's Rose--The t.i.tle is Rossetti's, 1870.

_2 not through Esdaile ma.n.u.script; they this, 1858.