DEDICATION.

There is no danger to a man that knows
What life and death is: there's not any law
Exceeds his knowledge: neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.

CHAPMAN.

TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY..

I.

So now my summer-task is ended, Mary,

And I return to thee, mine own heart's home;
As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faëry,
Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome.
Nor thou disdain that, ere my fame become
A star among the stars of mortal night

(If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom), Its doubtful promise thus I would unite

With thy beloved name, thou child of love and light.

II.

The toil which stole from thee so many an hour

Is ended-and the fruit is at thy feet.

No longer where the woods to frame a bower
With interlacèd branches mix and meet,
Or where, with sound like many voices sweet,
Waterfalls leap among wild islands green

Which framed for my lone boat a lone retreat
Of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen:
But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been.

III.

Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear friend, when first
The clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass.

I do remember well the hour which burst

My spirit's sleep. A fresh May-dawn it was,
When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,
And wept, I knew not why: until there rose
From the near schoolroom voices that, alas!
Were but one echo from a world of woes-
The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.

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IV.

And then I clasped my hands, and looked around;
But none was near to mock my streaming eyes,
Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground.
So, without shame, I spake:—“ I will be wise,
And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies
Such power; for I grow weary to behold

The selfish and the strong still tyrannize

Without reproach or check." I then controlled
My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold.

V.

And from that hour did I with earnest thought
Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore;
Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught

I cared to learn-but from that secret store
Wrought linked armour for my soul, before
It might walk forth to war among mankind.
Thus power and hope were strengthened more and more
Within me; till there came upon my mind

A sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined.

VI.

Alas that love should be a blight and snare

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alator

To those who seek all sympathies in one!-
Such once I sought in vain. Then black despair,
The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
Over the world in which I moved alone.

Yet never found I one not false to me,

Hard hearts and cold, like weights of icy stone Which crushed and withered mine-that could not be

Aught but a lifeless clod, until revived by thee. ↑

VII.

Thou friend, whose presence on my wintry heart
Fell like bright Spring upon some herbless plain,
How beautiful and calm and free thou wert

Wisdom

In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain
Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,
And walk as free as light the clouds among,
Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain
From his dim dungeon; and my spirit sprung,

To meet thee, from the woes which had begirt it long!

VIII.

No more alone through the world's wilderness,
Although I trod the paths of high intent,
I journeyed now: no more companionless,
Where solitude is like despair, I went.-
There is the wisdom of a stern content
When Poverty can blight the just and good,
When Infamy dares mock the innocent,
And cherished friends turn with the multitude
To trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood.

IX.

Now has descended a serener hour,

And, with inconstant fortune, friends return;
Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the power
Which says "Let scorn be not repaid with scorn."
And from thy side two gentle babes are born
To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we

Most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn:
And these delights, and thou, have been to me
The parents of the Song I consecrate to thee.

X.

Is it that now my inexperienced fingers

But strike the prelude of a loftier strain? Or must the lyre on which my spirit lingers

Soon pause in silence, ne'er to sound again, Though it might shake the Anarch Custom's reign, And charm the minds of men to Truth's own sway, Holier than was Amphion's? I would fain

Reply in hope-but I am worn away,

And Death and Love are yet contending for their prey.

XI.

And what art thou? I know, but dare not speak:
Time may interpret to his silent years.
Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,
And in the light thine ample forehead wears,
And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears,
And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy

Is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears:
And, through thine eyes, even in thy soul I see
A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.

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XII.

They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth,-
Of glorious parents thou aspiring child.
I wonder not-for One then left this earth
Whose life was like a setting planet mild,
Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled
Of its departing glory; still her fame

Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim The shelter, from thy sire, of an immortal name.

XIII.

One voice came forth from many a mighty spirit,
Which was the echo of three-thousand years;
And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it,
As some lone man who in a desert hears
The music of his home:-unwonted fears
Fell on the pale oppressors of our race,

And Faith and Custom and low-thoughted cares,
Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space

Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling-place.

XIV.

Truth's deathless voice pauses among mankind!

If there must be no response to my cry— If men must rise and stamp, with fury blind, On his pure name who loves them, thou and I, Sweet friend, can look from our tranquillity Like lamps into the world's tempestuous night,— Two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing by Which wrap them from the foundering seaman's sight, That burn from year to year with unextinguished light.

CANTO I.

I.

WHEN the last hope of trampled France had failed

Like a brief dream of unremaining glory,

From visions of despair I rose, and scaled

The peak of an aërial promontory,

Whose caverned base with the vexed surge was hoary; And saw the golden dawn break forth, and waken Each cloud and every wave :—but transitory The calm: for sudden the firm earth was shaken As if by the last wreck its frame were overtaken.

II.

So as I stood, one blast of muttering thunder
Burst in far peals along the waveless deep,
When, gathering fast, around, above, and under,
Long trains of tremulous mist began to creep,
Until their complicating lines did steep
The orient sun in shadow:-not a sound

Was heard; one horrible repose did keep

The forests and the floods, and all around

Darkness more dread than night was poured upon the ground.

III.

Hark! 'tis the rushing of a wind that sweeps

Earth and the ocean. See! the lightnings yawn Deluging heaven with fire, and the lashed deeps Glitter and boil beneath! It rages on,

One mighty stream, whirlwind and waves upthrown, Lightning and hail, and darkness eddying by!

There is a pause—the sea-birds, that were gone Into their caves to shriek, come forth to spy

What calm has fallen on earth, what light is in the sky.