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IV I feed the clouds, the rainbows and the flowers
With their ethereal colors ; the moon's globe And the pure stars in their eternal bowers
Are cinctured with my power as with a robe; Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine Are portions of one power, which is mine.
I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven,
Then with unwilling steps I wander down Into the clouds of the Atlantic even;
For grief that I depart they weep and frown. What look is more delightful than the smile With which I soothe them from the western isle ?
I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself, and knows itself divine;
All prophecy, all medicine are mine,
HYMN OF PAN
From the forests and highlands
e come, we come ; From the river-girt islands, vi. 6 their || its, Rossetti. Hymn of Pan. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
Where loud waves are dumb
Listening to my sweet pipings. The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
The bees on the bells of thyme,
The cicale above in the lime,
Listening to my sweet pipings.
Liquid Peneus was flowing,
And all dark Tempe lay
The light of the dying day,
Speeded by my sweet pipings. The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns,
And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
And the brink of the dewy caves, And all that did then attend and follow, Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo,
With envy of my sweet pipings.
I sang of the dædal Earth,
And Love, and Death, and Birth;
And then I changed my pipings, Singing how down the vale of Mænalus
I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed. Gods and men, we are all deluded thus !
It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed.
All wept, as I think both ye now would
At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
I DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring, And gentle odors led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets ;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved ; and that tall flower that
wets (Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth) Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
The Question. Hunt, 1822 || A Dream. Harvard MS. Published by Hunt in The Literary Pocket-Book, 1822.
ii. 6 Harvard MS., Boscombe MS. || omit, Ollier MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
ii 7 Heaven's collected, Harvard MS., Ollier MS., Hunt, 1822 || heaven-collected, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
Green cowbind and the moonlight-colored May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day, And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering
astray ; And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery
light; And bulrushes and reeds, of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand, — and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it! – Oh, to whom?
THE TWO SPIRITS
O Thou, who plumed with strong desire
Wouldst float above the earth, beware!
Night is coming!
And among the winds and beams
Night is coming!
The deathless stars are bright above;
If I would cross the shade of night,
And that is day!
On my golden plumes where'er they move; The meteors will linger round my flight,
And make night day.
But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken
Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain ?
Night is coming!
Yon declining sun have overtaken ;