The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 196

3.

Cotopaxi! bid the sound Through thy sister mountains ring, Till each valley smile around At the blissful welcoming!

And, O thou stern Ocean deep, _25 Thou whose foamy billows sweep Sh.o.r.es where thousands wake to weep Whilst they curse a villain king, On the winds that fan thy breast Bear thou news of Freedom's rest! _30

4.

Can the daystar dawn of love, Where the flag of war unfurled Floats with crimson stain above The fabric of a ruined world?

Never but to vengeance driven _35 When the patriot's spirit shriven Seeks 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 Sh.e.l.ley", 1887; 18-24 by Kingsland, "Poet-Lore", July, 1892. Dated 1812.]

1.

Bear witness, Erin! when thine injured isle Sees summer on its verdant pastures smile, Its cornfields waving in the winds that sweep The billowy surface of thy circling deep!

Thou tree whose shadow o'er the Atlantic gave _5 Peace, 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 stand Upon thy sh.o.r.es, O Erin, and could count The billows that, in their unceasing swell, Dash on thy beach, and every wave might seem An instrument in Time the giant's grasp, _15 To burst the barriers of Eternity.

Proceed, thou giant, conquering and to conquer; March on thy lonely way! The nations fall Beneath thy noiseless footstep; pyramids That for millenniums have defied the blast, _20 And laughed at lightnings, thou dost crush to nought.

Yon monarch, in his solitary pomp, Is but the fungus of a winter day That thy light footstep presses into dust.

Thou art a conqueror, Time; all things give way _25 Before thee but the 'fixed and virtuous will'; The sacred sympathy of soul which was When thou wert not, which shall be when thou perishest.

ON ROBERT EMMET'S GRAVE.

[Published from the Esdaile ma.n.u.script book by Dowden, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1887; dated 1812.]

6.

No trump tells thy virtues--the grave where they rest With thy dust shall remain unpolluted by fame, Till thy foes, by the world and by fortune caressed, Shall pa.s.s like a mist from the light of thy name.

7.

When the storm-cloud that lowers o'er the day-beam is gone, _5 Unchanged, unextinguished its life-spring will s.h.i.+ne; 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 ma.n.u.script book by Dowden, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1887.]

A scene, which 'wildered fancy viewed In the soul's coldest solitude, With that same scene when peaceful love Flings rapture's colour o'er the grove, When mountain, meadow, wood and stream _5 With unalloying glory gleam, And to the spirit's ear and eye Are unison and harmony.

The moonlight was my dearer day; Then would I wander far away, _10 And, lingering on the wild brook's sh.o.r.e To hear its unremitting roar, Would lose in the ideal flow All sense of overwhelming woe; Or at the noiseless noon of night _15 Would climb some heathy mountain's height, And listen to the mystic sound That stole in fitful gasps around.

I joyed to see the streaks of day Above the purple peaks decay, _20 And watch the latest line of light Just mingling with the shades of night; For day with me was time of woe When even tears refused to flow; Then would I stretch my languid frame _25 Beneath the wild woods' gloomiest shade, And try to quench the ceaseless flame That on my withered vitals preyed; Would close mine eyes and dream I were On some remote and friendless plain, _30 And long to leave existence there, If with it I might leave the pain That with a finger cold and lean Wrote madness on my withering mien.

It was not unrequited love _35 That bade my 'wildered spirit rove; 'Twas not the pride disdaining life, That with this mortal world at strife Would yield to the soul's inward sense, Then groan in human impotence, _40 And weep because it is not given To taste on Earth the peace of Heaven.

'Twas not that in the narrow sphere Where Nature fixed my wayward fate There was no friend or kindred dear _45 Formed to become that spirit's mate, Which, searching on tired pinion, found Barren and cold repulse around; Oh, no! yet each one sorrow gave New graces to the narrow grave. _50 For broken vows had early quelled The stainless spirit's vestal flame; Yes! whilst the faithful bosom swelled, Then the envenomed arrow came, And Apathy's unaltering eye _55 Beamed coldness on the misery; And early I had learned to scorn The chains of clay that bound a soul Panting to seize the wings of morn, And where its vital fires were born _60 To soar, and spur the cold control Which the vile slaves of earthly night Would twine around its struggling flight.

Oh, many were the friends whom fame Had linked with the unmeaning name, _65 Whose magic marked among mankind The casket of my unknown mind, Which hidden from the vulgar glare Imbibed no fleeting radiance there.

My darksome spirit sought--it found _70 A 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, _75 Though doomed with her to perish, where The captive clasps abhorred despair.

They could not share the bosom's feeling, Which, pa.s.sion's every throb revealing, Dared force on the world's notice cold _80 Thoughts of unprofitable mould, Who bask in Custom's fickle ray, Fit suns.h.i.+ne of such wintry day!

They could not in a twilight walk Weave an impa.s.sioned web of talk, _85 Till mysteries the spirits press In wild yet tender awfulness, Then feel within our narrow sphere How little yet how great we are!

But they might s.h.i.+ne in courtly glare, _90 Attract the rabble's cheapest stare, And might command where'er they move A thing that bears the name of love; They might be learned, witty, gay, Foremost in fas.h.i.+on's gilt array, _95 On Fame's emblazoned pages s.h.i.+ne, Be princes' friends, but never mine!

Ye jagged peaks that frown sublime, Mocking the blunted scythe of Time, Whence I would watch its l.u.s.tre pale _100 Steal from the moon o'er yonder vale Thou rock, whose bosom black and vast, Bared to the stream's unceasing flow, Ever its giant shade doth cast On the tumultuous surge below: _105

Woods, to whose depths retires to die The wounded Echo's melody, And whither this lone spirit bent The footstep of a wild intent:

Meadows! whose green and spangled breast _110 These fevered limbs have often pressed, Until the watchful fiend Despair Slept in the soothing coolness there!

Have not your varied beauties seen The sunken eye, the withering mien, _115 Sad traces of the unuttered pain That froze my heart and burned my brain.

How changed since Nature's summer form Had last the power my grief to charm, Since last ye soothed my spirit's sadness, _120 Strange chaos of a mingled madness!

Changed!--not the loathsome worm that fed In the dark mansions of the dead, Now soaring through the fields of air, And gathering purest nectar there, _125 A b.u.t.terfly, whose million hues The dazzled eye of wonder views, Long lingering on a work so strange, Has undergone so bright a change.

How do I feel my happiness? _130 I cannot tell, but they may guess Whose every gloomy feeling gone, Friends.h.i.+p and pa.s.sion feel alone; Who see mortality's dull clouds Before affection's murmur fly, _135 Whilst the mild glances of her eye Pierce the thin veil of flesh that shrouds The spirit's inmost sanctuary.

O thou! whose virtues latest known, First in this heart yet claim'st a throne; _140 Whose downy sceptre still shall share The gentle sway with virtue there; Thou fair in form, and pure in mind, Whose ardent friends.h.i.+p rivets fast The flowery band our fates that bind, _145 Which incorruptible shall last When duty's hard and cold control Has thawed around the burning soul,-- The gloomiest retrospects that bind With crowns of thorn the bleeding mind, _150 The prospects of most doubtful hue That rise on Fancy's shuddering view,-- Are gilt by the reviving ray Which thou hast flung upon my day.

FRAGMENT OF A SONNET.

TO HARRIET.

[Published from the Esdaile ma.n.u.script book by Dowden, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1887; dated August 1, 1812.]

Ever as now with Love and Virtue's glow May thy unwithering soul not cease to burn, Still may thine heart with those pure thoughts o'erflow Which 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 Sh.e.l.ley, "Notes to Queen Mab", 1813; and entire (from the Esdaile ma.n.u.script book) by Dowden, "Life of Sh.e.l.ley", 1887; dated 1812.]

It is not blasphemy to hope that Heaven More perfectly will give those nameless joys Which throb within the pulses of the blood And sweeten all that bitterness which Earth Infuses in the heaven-born soul. O thou _5 Whose dear love gleamed upon the gloomy path Which this lone spirit travelled, drear and cold, Yet swiftly leading to those awful limits Which mark the bounds of Time and of the s.p.a.ce When Time shall be no more; wilt thou not turn _10 Those spirit-beaming eyes and look on me, Until I be a.s.sured 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 _15 Of my corporeal nature, through the soul Now knit with these fine fibres? I would give The longest and the happiest day that fate Has marked on my existence but to feel ONE soul-reviving kiss...O thou most dear, _20 'Tis an a.s.surance that this Earth is Heaven, And Heaven the flower of that untainted seed Which springeth here beneath such love as ours.

Harriet! let death all mortal ties dissolve, But ours shall not be mortal! The cold hand _25 Of Time may chill the love of earthly minds Half frozen now; the frigid intercourse Of 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 _30 To portray its continuance as now, Warm, tranquil, spirit-healing; nor when age Has tempered these wild ecstasies, and given A soberer tinge to the luxurious glow Which blazing on devotion's pinnacle _35 Makes virtuous pa.s.sion supersede the power Of reason; nor when life's aestival sun To deeper manhood shall have ripened me; Nor when some years have added judgement's store To all thy woman sweetness, all the fire _40 Which throbs in thine enthusiast heart; not then Shall holy friends.h.i.+p (for what other name May love like ours a.s.sume?), not even then Shall Custom so corrupt, or the cold forms Of this desolate world so harden us, _45 As when we think of the dear love that binds Our souls in soft communion, while we know Each other's thoughts and feelings, can we say Unblus.h.i.+ngly a heartless compliment, Praise, hate, or love with the unthinking world, _50 Or dare to cut the unrelaxing nerve That knits our love to virtue. Can those eyes, Beaming with mildest radiance on my heart To purify its purity, e'er bend To soothe its vice or consecrate its fears? _55 Never, thou second Self! Is confidence So vain in virtue that I learn to doubt The mirror even of Truth? Dark flood of Time, Roll as it listeth thee; I measure not By month or moments thy ambiguous course. _60 Another 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 impa.s.sioned thought Prolong my being; if I wake no more, _65 My life more actual living will contain Than some gray veteran's of the world's cold school, Whose listless hours unprofitably roll By one enthusiast feeling unredeemed, Virtue and Love! unbending Fort.i.tude, _70 Freedom, Devotedness and Purity!

That life my Spirit consecrates to you.