Захвор AN ALLEGORY [Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824.] I A PORTAL as of shadowy adamant Stands yawning on the highway of the life Of shadows, like the restless clouds that haunt II And many pass it by with careless tread, Tracks every traveller even to where the dead THE WORLD'S WANDERERS [Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824.] I TELL me, thou Star, whose wings of light In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now? II Tell me, Moon, thou pale and gray III Weary Wind, who wanderest SONNET [Published by Leigh Hunt, The Literary Pocket-Book, 1823. There YE hasten to the grave! What seek ye there, Of the idle brain, which the world's livery wear? Sonnet.-I grave 5 10 15 5 10 All that pale Expectation feigneth fair! Thou vainly curious mind which wouldest guess With such swift feet life's green and pleasant path, A refuge in the cavern of gray death? O heart, and mind, and thoughts! what thing do you LINES TO A REVIEWER [Published by Leigh Hunt, The Literary Pocket-Book, 1823. These lines, and the Sonnet immediately preceding, are signed & in the Literary Pocket-Book.] ALAS, good friend, what profit can you see FRAGMENT OF A SATIRE ON SATIRE Ir gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains, And racks of subtle torture, if the pains Of shame, of fiery Hell's tempestuous wave, Seen through the caverns of the shadowy grave, Hurling the damned into the murky air While the meek blest sit smiling; if Despair And Hate, the rapid bloodhounds with which Terror Hunts through the world the homeless steps of Error, To make men wise and just; ... And not the sophisms of revenge and fear, Bloodier than is revenge. ... Then send the priests to every hearth and home Sonnet.-5 pale Expectation Ollier MS.; anticipation Harvard MS., 1828, In words like flakes of sulphur, such as thaw The frozen tears. If Satire's scourge could wake the slumbering hounds The leprous scars of callous Infamy; If it could make the present not to be, Or charm the dark past never to have been, foul; And from the mirror of Truth's sunlike shield, Flash on his sight the spectres of the past, Let scorn like yawn below, And rain on him like flakes of fiery snow. 135 20 25 30 35 Men take a sullen and a stupid pride and, beside, By a perverse antipathy of fame. In being all they hate in others' shame, 40 From the sweet fountains of our Nature flow If any friend would take Southey some day, Tis not worth while to prove, as I could, how These bitter waters; I will only say, And tell him, in a country walk alone, Softening harsh words with friendship's gentle tone, How incorrect his public conduct is, And what men think of it, 'twere not amiss. Far better than to make innocent ink GOOD-NIGHT [Published by Leigh Hunt over the signature &, The Literary PocketBook, 1822. It is included in the Harvard MS. book, and there is a transcript by Shelley in a copy of The Literary Pocket-Book, 1819, presented by him to Miss Sophia Stacey, Dec. 29, 1820. (See Love's Philosophy and Time Long Past.) Our text is that of the editio princeps, 1822, with which the Harvard MS. and P. P., 1824, agree. The variants of the Stacey MS., 1820, are given in the footnotes.] I GOOD-NIGHT? ah! no; the hour is ill Which severs those it should unite; Then it will be good night. 1 Good-night? no, love! the night is ill Stacey MS. 45 II How can I call the lone night good, [Published by Medwin, The Angler in Wales, or Days and Nights of Sportsmen, 1834. The text is revised by Rossetti from the Boscombe MS.] I 'BUONA notte, buona notte !'-Come mai La notte sarà buona senza te? Non dirmi buona notte,-chè tu sai, II Solinga, scura, cupa, senza speme, Ogni notte, senza dirla, sarà buona. III Come male buona notte si suona E mai non di dir la buona notte. ORPHEUS [Published by Dr. Garnett, Relics of Shelley, 1862; revised and Follow the herbless banks of that strange brook Good-night-5 How were the night without thee good Stacey MS. That lives beneath the overhanging rock 15 20 25 30 Beneath its blasts-a weatherbeaten crew! Chorus. What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint, 35 But more melodious than the murmuring wind Which through the columns of a temple glides? Ah, no! A. 40 45 A moment shudders on the fearful brink Of a swift stream-the cruel hounds press on With deafening yell, the arrows glance and wound, He plunges in so Orpheus, seized and torn 50 By the sharp fangs of an insatiate grief, Maenad-like waved his lyre in the bright air, And wildly shrieked Where she is, it is dark!' And then he struck from forth the strings a sound Of deep and fearful melody. Alas! In times long past, when fair Eurydice 55 With her bright eyes sat listening by his side, He gently sang of high and heavenly themes. 16, 17, 24 1870 only. 45-55 Ah, no! ... melody 1870 only. |