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At evening close from killing the tall | The world is full of Woodmen who expel treen,
Love's gentle Dryads from the haunts The soul of whom by nature's gentle law of life, Was each a wood-nymph, and kept ever
And vex the nightingales in every dell. green The pavement and the roof of the wild
MARENGHI 1 copse, Chequering the sunlight of the blue
LET those who pine in pride or in
revenge, With jagged leaves, -- and from the
Or think that ill for ill should be forest tops
repaid, Singing the winds to sleep-or weeping Or barter wrong for wrong, until the
oft Fast showers of aërial water drops
Ruins the merchants of such thriftless Into their mother's bosom, sweet and
Visit the tower of Vado, and unlearn Nature's pure tears which have no bitter. Such bitter faith beside Marenghi’s urn.
ness; Around the cradles of the birds aloft
A massy tower yet overhangs the town, They spread themselves into the loveli
A scattered group of ruined dwellings
now. Of fan-like leaves, and over pallid
flowers Ilang like moist clouds :-or, where
Another scene ere wise Etruria knew high branches kiss,
Its second ruin through internal strife, Make a green space among the silent And tyrants through the breach of disbowers,
cord threw Like a vast fane in a metropolis,
The chain which binds and kills. As Surrounded by the columns and the
death to life, towers
As winter to fair fowers (though some All overwrought with branch - like be poison) traceries
So Monarchy succeeds to Freedom's In which there is religion--and the mute
foison. Persuasion of unkindled melodies, Odours and gleams and murmurs, which In Pisa's church a cup of sculptured gold the lute
Was brimming with the blood of feuds
forsworn Of the blind pilot-spirit of the blast Stirs as it sails, now grave and now acute,
At sacrament : more holy ne'er of old
Etrurians mingled with the shades Wakening the leaves and waves, ere it forlorn
Of moon-illumined forests.
1 This fragment refers to an event told in cast,
Sismondi's Histoire des Républiques Italiennes, One accent never to return again.
which occurred during the war when Florence finally subdued Pisa, and reduced it to a province (Mrs. Shelley).
And reconciling factions wet their lips
keep each spirit
Inhabits its wrecked palaces ;—in thine
thrown, And thus thy victim's fate is as thine
The sweetest flowers are ever frail and
rare, Was Florence the liberticide? that band And love and freedom blossom but Of free and glorious brothers who had to wither ; planted,
And good and ill like vines entangled Like a green isle 'mid Æthiopian sand,
are, A nation amid slaveries, disenchanted So that their grapes may oft be plucked Of many impious faiths—wise, just-do together ;they,
Divide the vintage ere thou drink, then Does Florence, gorge the sated tyrants' make prey ?
Thy heart rejoice for dead Marenghi's
sake. O foster-nurse of man's abandoned glory, Since Athens, its great mother, sunk No record of his crime remains in story, in splendour ;
But if the morning bright as evening Thou shadowest forth that mighty shape shone, in story,
It was some high and holy deed, by As ocean its wrecked fanes, severe yet tender :
Pursued into forgetfulness, which won The light-invested angel Poesy
From the blind crowd he made secure Was drawn from the dim world to wel.
and free come thee.
The patriot's meed, toil, death, and infamy.
XII And thou in painting didst transcribe For when by sound of trumpet was all taught
declared By loftiest meditations ; marble knew A price upon his life, and there was The sculptor's fearless soul-and as he
A penalty of blood on all who shared The grace of his own power and So much of water with him as might
wet And more than all, heroic, just, sublime, His lips, which speech divided not-he Thou wert among the false—was this
went thy crime?
Alone, as you may guess, to banishment.
XIII Yes; and on Pisa's marble walls the Amid the mountains, like a hunted twine
beast, Of direst weeds hangs garlanded—the He hid himself, and hunger, toil, and snake
Month after month endured ; it was a
feast Whene'er he found those globes of
deep-red gold Which in the woods the strawberry-tree
doth bear, Suspended in their emerald atmosphere.
The relics of a weed-inwoven cot,
pursuit was hot
were his grave
And in the roofless huts of vast morasses,
That fire, more warm and bright than turf,
life or hope, And where the huge and speckled aloe (Which to the martyr makes his dunmade,
geon . . Rooted in stones, a broad and pointed
More joyous than the heaven's majestic
Or he could ne'er have lived years, day
by day. of strand Near Vado's tower and town; and on one side
Nor was his state so lone as you might The treacherous marsh divides it from
think. the land,
He had tamed every newt and snake Shadowed by pine and ilex forests and toad, wide,
And every seagull which sailed down to And on the other creeps eternally,
drink Through muddy weeds, the shallow Those... ere the death - mist sullen sea.
And each one, with peculiar talk and Here the earth's breath is pestilence, play, and few
Wiled, not untaught, his silent time But things whose nature is at war away:
with lifeSnakes and ill worms--endure its mortal dew.
And the marsh-meteors, like tame beasts, The trophies of the clime's victorious
at night strife
Came licking with blue tongues his
veinèd feet; White bones, and locks of dun and
And he would watch them, as, like yellow hair,
spirits bright, And ringed horns which buffaloes did
In many entangled figures quaint and
To some enchanted music they would
danceAnd at the utmost point ... stood Until they vanished at the first moon. there
He mocked the stars by grouping on And were kindled powers and each weed
thoughts which made The summer dewdrops in the golden His solitude less dark. When memdawn;
ory came And, ere the hoar-frost vanished, he (For years gone by leave each a deepencould read
ing shade), Its pictured footprints, as on spots of His spirit basked in its internal lawn
flame,Its delicate brief touch in silence weaves As, when the black storm hurries round The likeness of the wood's remembered
at night, leaves,
The fisher basks beside his red fire. XXII
light. And many a fresh Spring-morn would
XXVI he awakenWhile yet the unrisen sun made glow, Yet human hopes and cares and faiths
like iron Quivering in crimson fire, the peaks
Like billows unawakened by the unshaken
wind, Of mountains and blue isles which Slept in Marenghi still; but that all did environ
terrors, With air-clad crags that plain of land
Weakness, and doubt, had withered
in his mind. And feel
Ilis couch ...
And in the moonless nights, when the
And, when he saw beneath the sunset's Communed with the immeasurable
planet world ;
A black ship walk over the crimson And felt his life beyond his limbs dilated,
ocean, Till his mind grew like that it contem- Its pennons streaming on the blasts that plated
fan it, Its sails and ropes all tense and with.
out motion, His food was the wild fig and straw. Like the dark ghost of the unburied even berry ;
Striding across the orange-coloured The milky pine- nuts which the
heaven,autumnal blast Shakes into the tall grass ; and such
XXVIII small fry
The thought of his own kind who made As from the sea by winter-storms are
the soul cast ;
Which sped that winged shape And the coarse bulbs of iris-flowers he
through night and day,– found Knotted in clumps under the spongy
The thought of his own country ... ground.
To track along the lapses of the air Lift not the painted veil which those This wandering melody until it rests
lone mountains in some who live Call Life : though unreal shapes be pictured there,
FRAGMENT: THE STREAM'S And it but mimic all we would believe
The fierce beasts of the woods and
wildernesses And Hope, twin destinies; who ever
Track not the steps of him who drinks weave Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
For the light breezes, which for ever fleet I knew one who had lifted it—he sought, Around its margin, heap the sand thereFor his lost heart was tender, things to
love, But found them not, alas ! nor was there FRAGMENT: A LOST LEADER
aught The world contains, the which he could My head is wild with weeping for a grief
Which is the shadow of a gentle mind. approve. Through the unheeding many he did I walk into the air (but no relief move,
-or haply, if I sought, to find; A splendour among shadows, a bright blot It came unsought);—to wonder that a Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that
Among men's spirits should be cold For truth, and like the Preacher found
and blind. it not.
FRAGMENT: THE VINE AMID FRAGMENT: TO BYRON
RUINS () MIGHTY mind, in whose deep stream
FLOURISHING vine, whose kindling
clusters glow Shakes like a reed in the unheeding Beneath the autumnal sun, none taste storm,
of thee; Why dost thou curb not thine own
For thou dlost shroud a ruin, and below sacred rage ?
The rotting bones of dead antiquity.
FRAGMENT: APPEAL TO
NOTE ON POEMS OF 1818, BY
We often hear of persons disappointed by Three brethren named, the guardians
a first visit to Italy. This was not Shelley's
The aspect of its nature, its sunny gloomy-winged
sky, its majestic storms, of the luxuriant Of one abyss, where life, and truth, and vegetation of the country, and the noble joy
marble-built cities, enchanted him. The Are swallowed up-yet spare me, Spirit, sight of the works of art was full enjoyment pity me,
and wonder. He had not studied pictures Until the sounds I hear become my soul, or statues before ; he now did so with the And it has left these faint and weary limbs, eye of taste, that referred not to the rules