His song, though very sweet, was low and faint, A simple strain — A mighty Phantasm, half concealed In darkness of his own exceeding light, Which clothed his awful presence unrevealed, Charioted on the night Of thunder-smoke, whose skirts were chrysolite. And like a sudden meteor, which outstrips eclipse LINES WRITTEN FOR HELLAS I FAIREST of the Destinies, Disarray thy dazzling eyes: Than the winged [bolts] thou bearest, And the smile thou wearest Wraps thee as a star Is wrapped in light. II Could Arethuse to her forsaken urn Lines Written for Hellas. Published by Garnett, 1862. Again into the quivers of the Sun Be gathered - could one thought from its wild flight Return into the temple of the brain III A star has fallen upon the earth 'Mid the benighted nations, A quenchless atom of immortal light, A cresset shaken from the constellations. To the heart of Earth, the well And unextinct in that cold source Guides the sphere which is its prison, Like an angelic spirit pent In a form of mortal birth, Till, as a spirit half arisen Shatters its charnel, it has rent, The thin and painted garment of the Earth, Consuming all its forms of living death. THE PINE FOREST OF THE CASCINE NEAR PISA FIRST DRAFT OF "TO JANE: THE INVITATION,. THE RECOLLECTION" DEAREST, best and brightest, To the woods and to the fields! The eldest of the hours of Spring, And the banks all bare and rude ; The Pine Forest of the Cascine near Pisa. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Radiant Sister of the Day, Round stems that never kiss the sun Now the last day of many days, For now the Earth has changed its face, We wandered to the Pine Forest That skirts the Ocean's foam, The whispering waves were half asleep, It seemed as if the day were one Sent from beyond the skies, 30 stems, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || stones, Mrs. Shelley, 18391. Which shed to earth above the sun We paused amid the pines that stood Tortured by storms to shapes as rude How calm it was the silence there By such a chain was bound That even the busy woodpecker The inviolable quietness; The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew. It seemed that from the remotest seat A spirit interfused around, A thinking silent life, Our mortal nature's strife; And still it seemed the centre of Was one whose being filled with love |