XXXVI.

Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far
At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;
Into her dream he melted, as the rose
Blendeth its odour with the violet,--

Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet
Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.

XXXVII.

'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet: "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline !" 'Tis dark the iced gusts still rave and beat: "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine! Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, Though thou forsakest a deceived thingA dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."

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XXXVIII.

"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!

Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?

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Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed?

Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest

After so many hours of toil and quest,

A famish'd pilgrim,-saved by miracle.

Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest
Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well

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To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel.”

XXXIX.

"Hark! 'tis an elfin storm from faery land,
Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed :
Arise-arise! the morning is at hand;-
The bloated wassailers will never heed :-
Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,-
Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead :
Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,

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For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."

XL.

She hurried at his words, beset with fears,
For there were sleeping dragons all around,
At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears;
Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found,
In all the house was heard no human sound.

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A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each door;
The arras, rich with horsemen, hawk, and hound,
Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar;

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And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.

XLI.

They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall !
Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide,

Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,

With a huge empty flagon by his side:

The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,

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But his sagacious eye an inmate owns :

By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:

The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;

The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans;

XLII.

And they are gone: ay, ages long ago

These lovers fled away into the storm.
That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,
Were long be-nightmared. Angela the old
Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform :
The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.

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SHELLEY.

ADONAIS.

I.

I WEEP for ADONAIS-he is dead!

Oh, weep for Adonais! though our tears

Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years
To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers,
And teach them thine own sorrow; say: With me
Died Adonais; till the Future dares

Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be
An echo and a light unto eternity!

II.

Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay,
When thy son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies

IO

In darkness? where was lorn Urania

When Adonais died? With veiled eyes,

'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise

She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath,

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Rekindled all the fading melodies,

With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death.

For he is gone, where all things wise and fair
Descend :-oh, dream not that the amorous Deep

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Will yet restore him to the vital air;

Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.

IV.

Most musical of mourners, weep again!
Lament anew, Urania !-He died,

Who was the Sire of an immortal strain,

Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride
The priest, the slave, and the liberticide

Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite
Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified,

Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite

Yet reigns o'er earth, the third among the sons of light.

V.

Most musical of mourners, weep anew!

Not all to that bright station dared to climb:*
And happier they their happiness who knew,
Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time
In which suns perished; others more sublime,
Struck by the envious wrath of man or God,

Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime;

And some yet live, treading the thorny road,

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Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode. 45

VI.

But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perished,
The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew

Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished,

And fed with true love tears instead of dew;

Most musical of mourners, weep anew!

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Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last,

The bloom, whose petals nipt before they blew
Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste;
The broken lily lies-the storm is overpast.

VII.

To that high Capital, where kingly Death
Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay,

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He came; and bought, with price of purest breath,

A grave among the eternal.-Come away!

Haste, while the vault of blue Italian day

Is yet his fitting charnel-roof! while still He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay; Awake him not! surely he takes his fill Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill.

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VIII.

He will awake no more, oh, never more!
Within the twilight chamber spreads apace
The shadow of white Death, and at the door
Invisible Corruption waits to trace

His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place;
The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe
Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface]
So fair a prey, till darkness and the law

Of change shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw.

IX.

Oh, weep for Adonais !-The quick Dreams,
The passion-winged Ministers of thought,

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Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams

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Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught

The love which was its music, wander not,—
Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain,

But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn their lot
Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain,

They ne'er will gather strength, nor find a home again.

X.

And one with trembling hand clasps his cold head,
And fans him with her moonlight wings, and cries,

"Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead;

See, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes,

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Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies

A tear some Dream hath loosened from his brain."

Lost Angel of a ruined Paradise!

She knew not 'twas her own, as with no stain She faded, like a cloud which had outwept its rain.

XI.

One from a lucid urn of starry dew

Washed his light limbs, as if embalming them;
Another clipt her profuse locks, and threw

The wreath upon him, like an anadem,
Which frozen tears instead of pearls begem;
Another in her wilful grief would break
Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem

A greater loss with one which was more weak;

And dull the barbed fire against his frozen cheek.

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