Or live, or drop in the deep sea of Love; Oh, that, like thine, mine epitaph were - Peace!" This was the only moan she ever made. HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY I THE awful shadow of some unseen Power Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance; Like aught that for its grace may be II Spirit of Beauty, that dost consecrate With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form, where art thou gone? Why dost thou pass away, and leave our state, Hymn to Intellectual Beauty. Published by Hunt, Examiner January 19, 1817, and with Rosalind and Helen, 1819. Composed, probably, in Switzerland, in the summer. i. 2 among, Shelley, 1819 || amongst, Shelley, 1817. ii. 1 dost, Shelley, 1819 || doth, Shelley, 1817. This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate? Ask why the sunlight not forever Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain river ; Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown; Why fear and dream and death and birth Such gloom; why man has such a scope III No voice from some sublimer world hath ever Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost and Remain the records of their vain endeavor Frail spells, whose uttered charm might not avail to sever, From all we hear and all we see, Doubt, chance and mutability. Thy light alone, like mist o'er mountains driven, Or music by the night wind sent Through strings of some still instrument, Or moonlight on a midnight stream, IV Love, Hope and Self-esteem, like clouds, depart, And come, for some uncertain moments lent. Man were immortal and omnipotent, Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, ii. 9 fear and dream || care and pain, Boscombe MS. Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart. Thou messenger of sympathies That wax and wane in lovers' eyes! Thou, that to human thought art nourishment, Depart not as thy shadow came! While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead; I called on poisonous names with which our youth Of life, at that sweet time when winds are woo ing All vital things that wake to bring Sudden thy shadow fell on me; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy! VI I vowed that I would dedicate my powers To thee and thine - have I not kept the vow? now iv 8 art, Shelley, 1817 || are, Shelley, 1819. I call the phantoms of a thousand hours Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers Of studious zeal or love's delight Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express. VII The day becomes more solemn and serene Which through the summer is not heard or seen, As if it could not be, as if it had not been! Thus let thy power, which like the truth MONT BLANC LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI I The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Mont Blanc. Published in the History of a Six Weeks' Tour, 1817. Composed in Switzerland, in July. Now dark, now glittering, now reflecting gloom, Now lending splendor, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings Of waters, with a sound but half its own, Such as a feeble brook will oft assume In the wild woods, among the mountains lone, Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river II Thus thou, Ravine of Arve-dark, deep Ravine — Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail Of lightning through the tempest! thou dost lie,- The chainless winds still come and ever came Thine earthly rainbows stretched across the sweep Robes some unsculptured image; the strange sleep Thy caverns ecnoing to the Arve's commotion |