Beloved earth, dear mother, in thy bosom
I seek a refuge from the monster who
Precipitates itself1 upon me.

CYPRIAN.

Friend,

Collect thyself; and be the memory

Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrow
But as a shadow of the past,-for nothing
Beneath the circle of the moon, but flows
And changes, and can never know repose.

DÆMON.

And who art thou, before whose feet my fate

Has prostrated me?

CYPRIAN.

One who, moved with pity,

Would soothe its stings.

DÆMON.

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Because my happiness is lost.

Yet I lament what has long ceased to be
The object of desire or memory,
And my life is not life.

1 So in Mrs. Shelley's editions. Mr. Rossetti substitutes himself: if change were admissible, I should think it

safer to substitute which for who in the previous line.

CYPRIAN.

Now, since the fury

Of this earthquaking hurricane is still,
And the crystalline1 heaven has reassumed
Its windless calm so quickly, that it seems
As if its heavy wrath had been awakened
Only to overwhelm that vessel,-speak,
Who art thou, and whence comest thou?

DÆMON.

My coming hither cost, than thou hast seen
Or I can tell. Among my misadventures
This shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou hear?

CYPRIAN.

Speak.

DÆMON.

Since thou desirest, I will then unveil

Myself to thee;-for in myself I am

A world of happiness and misery;

This I have lost, and that I must lament
For ever.
In my attributes I stood

So high and so heroically great,

In lineage so supreme, and with a genius.
Which penetrated with a glance the world
Beneath my feet, that won by my high merit
A king-whom I may call the king of kings,
Because all others tremble in their pride
Before the terrors of his countenance,
In his high palace roofed with brightest gems

1 The word crystalline is not accented in Mrs. Shelley's editions.

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Of living light-call them the stars of Heaven-
Named me his counsellor. But the high praise
Stung me with pride and envy, and I rose
In mighty competition, to ascend
His seat and place my foot triumphantly
Upon his subject thrones. Chastised, I know
The depth to which ambition falls; too mad
Was the attempt, and yet more mad were now
Repentance of the irrevocable deed:-
Therefore I chose this ruin with the glory
Of not to be subdued, before the shame
Of reconciling me with him who reigns
By coward cession.-Nor was I alone,
Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone;

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And there was hope, and there may still be hope,
For many suffrages among his vassals

Hailed me their lord and king, and many still

Are mine, and many more, perchance shall be.
Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious,

I left his seat of empire, from mine eye
Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words
With inauspicious thunderings shook Heaven,
Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong,
And imprecating on his prostrate slaves
Rapine, and death, and outrage. Then I sailed
Over the mighty fabric of the world,
A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands,
A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves
And craggy shores; and I have wandered over
The expanse of these wide1 wildernesses

In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved
In the light breathings of the invisible wind,

1 Mr. Rossetti inserts glassy before wildernesses, on the ground that some such word is wanted both for the metre

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and to complete the sense of the original.

And which the sea has made a dustless ruin,
Seeking1 ever a mountain, through whose forests.
I seek a man, whom I must now compel
To keep his word with me. I came arrayed
In tempest, and although my power could well
Bridle the forest winds in their career,

For other causes I forbore to soothe
Their fury to Favonian gentleness;

I could and would not; (thus I wake in him
A love of magic art.) Let not this tempest,
Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder;
For by my art the sun would turn as pale
As his weak sister with unwonted fear.
And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven
Written as in a record; I have pierced
The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres
And know them as thou knowest every corner
Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee
That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work
A charm over this waste and savage wood,
This Babylon of crags and agèd trees,
Filling its leafy coverts with a horror

Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest
Of these wild oaks and pines-and as from thee
I have received the hospitality

Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit
Of years of toil in recompense; whate'er
Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought
As object of desire, that shall be thine.

And thenceforth shall so firm an amity "Twixt thee and me2 be, that

1 I suspect the word for has been dropped accidentally from this place between Seeking and ever. It seems

neither fortune,

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[Aside.

almost essential to the rhythm.

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'Twixt thou and me, in Mrs. Shelley's editions. The emendation thee

The monstrous phantom which pursues success,
That careful miser, that free prodigal,
Who ever alternates with changeful hand,
Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time,
That loadstar of the ages, to whose beam
The winged years speed o'er the intervals.
Of their unequal revolutions; nor

Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars
Rule and adorn the world, can ever make
The least division between thee and me,
Since now I find a refuge in thy favour.

SCENE III.

The DEMON tempts JUSTINA, who is a Christian.

DÆMON.

Abyss of Hell! I call on thee,

Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy!

From thy prison-house set free

The spirits of voluptuous death,

That with their mighty breath

They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts;

Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes

Be peopled from thy shadowy deep,

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Till her guiltless phantasy

Full to overflowing be!

And with sweetest harmony,

Let birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things move To love, only to love.

was given by Mr. Garnett, from the MS., at p. 95 of Relics of Shelley. The metre would be set right if we

10

could read Be betwixt thee and me; but I know of no authority for such a change.