O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun!

Come along!

EPITHALAMIUM

NIGHT, with all thine eyes look down!

Darkness, shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon

On a pair so true ?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight

Oft renew.

BOYS

O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun ?

Come along!

The golden gates of sleep unbar!

When strength and beauty meet together, Kindles their image like a star

In a sea of glassy weather.
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight !
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight

Oft renew.

GIRLS

O joy ! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun ?

Come along ! Epithalamium. Published by Medwin, Life of Shelley, 1847.

Fairies / sprites! and angels keep her!

Holiest powers, permit no wrong! And return, to wake the sleeper,

Dawn, ere it be long. Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light, Lest eyes see their own delight! Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight

Oft renew.

BOYS AND GIRLS

O joy ! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun ?

Come along!

ANOTHER VERSION

BOYS SING

Night! with all thine eyes look down!

Darkness! weep thy holiest dew!
Never smiled the inconstant moon

On a pair so true.
Haste, coy hour! and quench all light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Haste, swift hour! and thy loved flight

Oft renew!

GIRLS SING

Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her!

Holy stars ! permit no wrong!
And return to wake the sleeper,

Dawn, ere it be long!
O joy ! O fear! there is not one
Of us can guess

In the absence of the sun :

Come along!

BOYS

Oh, linger long, thou envious eastern lamp

In the damp

Caves of the deep!

GIRLS

Nay, return, Vesper! urge thy lazy car!

Swift unbar

The gates of Sleep!

CHORUS

The golden gate of Sleep unbar,

When Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image, like a star

In a sea of glassy weather. May the purple mist of love Round them rise, and with them move, Nourishing each tender gem Which, like flowers, will burst from them. As the fruit is to the tree May their children ever be !

EVENING

PONTE AL MARE, PISA

I

The sun is set; the swallows are asleep;
The bats are flitting fast in the gray air ;

Evening. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.

The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep,

And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, Wakes not one ripple from its summer dream.

II

There is no dew on the dry grass to-night,

Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light;

And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town.

III

Within the surface of the fleeting river

The wrinkled image of the city lay,
Inimovably unquiet, and forever

It trembles, but it never fades away ;
Go to the
You, being changed, will find it then as now.

IV

The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut

By darkest barriers of enormous cloud, Like mountain over mountain haddled but

Growing and moving upwards in a crowd, And over it a space of watery blue, Which the keen evening star is shining through.

THE AZIOLA

I

“Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
Methinks she must be nigh,”

Said Mary, as we sate
In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought;

And I, who thought
This Aziola was some tedious woman,

Asked, “ Who is Aziola?” How elate
I felt to know that it was nothing human,
No mockery of myself to fear or hate !

And Mary saw my soul, And laughed, and said, “ Disquiet yourself not,

'Tis nothing but a little downy owl.”

a

II

Sad Aziola ! many an eventide

Thy music I had heard By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side,

And fields and marshes wide, -
Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird,

The soul ever stirred;
Unlike and far sweeter than them all.
Sad Aziola! from that moment I

Loved thee and thy sad cry. The Aziola. Published by Mrs. Shelley, in The Keepsake, 1829.