Mighty eagle! thou that soarest
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The golden gates of Sleep unbar
For my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave,
Rough wind, that moanest loud
Silver key of the fountain of tears,
A hater he came and sat by a ditch,
O world! O life! O time!
God prosper, speed,and save,
The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere
She was an aged woman; and the years
'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail
Aster prin men elampes eni zooisin Eoos
'The good die first,
A portal as of shadowy adamant
Chameleons feed on light and air:
Arise, arise, arise!
No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love.'
Arethusa arose
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,
How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner,
Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind,
'Buona notte, buona notte!'--Come mai
There is a voice, not understood by all,
Within a cavern of man's trackless spirit
Gather, O gather,
Place, for the Marshal of the Masque!
A man who was about to hang himself,
Death is here and death is there,
They die--the dead return not--Misery
Ask not the pallid stranger's woe,
Orphan Hours, the Year is dead,
L'anima amante si slancia fuori del creato, e si crea nell' infinito un
These are two friends whose lives were undivided;
Hic sinu fessum caput hospitali
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
The sun is set; the swallows are asleep;
How eloquent are eyes!
Whilst monarchs laughed upon their thrones
Where man's profane and tainting hand
I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan
The season was the childhood of sweet June,
Yes! all is past--swift time has fled away,
What Mary is when she a little smiles
The Elements respect their Maker's seal!
A shovel of his ashes took
If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains,
I mourn Adonis dead--loveliest Adonis--
Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud,--
'Here lieth One whose name was writ on water.
'Twas dead of the night when I sate in my dwelling,
A gentle story of two lovers young,
Alas! this is not what I thought life was.
And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal
Follow to the deep wood's weeds,
Great Spirit whom the sea of boundless thought
I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret
I would not be a king--enough
Is it that in some brighter sphere
Methought I was a billow in the crowd
O thou immortal deity
Such hope, as is the sick despair of good,
The death knell is ringing
The rude wind is singing
The viewless and invisible Consequence
Unrisen splendour of the brightest sun,
Wake the serpent not--lest he
What men gain fairly--that they should possess,
When a lover clasps his fairest,
When soft winds and sunny skies
Ye gentle visitations of calm thought--
Wealth and dominion fade into the mass
To thirst and find no fill--to wail and wander
In the cave which wild weeds cover
His face was like a snake's--wrinkled and loose
One sung of thee who left the tale untold,
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream,
Silence! Oh, well are Death and Sleep and Thou
Thy beauty hangs around thee like
My head is heavy, my limbs are weary,
Dear home, thou scene of earliest hopes and joys,
I faint, I perish with my love! I grow
The babe is at peace within the womb;
And who feels discord now or sorrow?
There is a warm and gentle atmosphere
When May is painting with her colours gay
I dreamed that Milton's spirit rose, and took
How sweet it is to sit and read the tales
My head is wild with weeping for a grief
Hark! the owlet flaps his wings
Serene in his unconquerable might
The fitful alternations of the rain,
The gentleness of rain was in the wind.
Rome has fallen, ye see it lying
A golden-winged Angel stood
Is not to-day enough? Why do I peer
'Tis midnight now--athwart the murky air,
I went into the deserts of dim sleep--
'What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest
Faint with love, the Lady of the South
The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses
And where is truth? On tombs? for such to thee
Flourishing vine, whose kindling clusters glow
My thoughts arise and fade in solitude,
For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble
O mighty mind, in whose deep stream this age
As the sunrise to the night,
My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim
Thou living light that in thy rainbow hues
Bright wanderer, fair coquette of Heaven,
People of England, ye who toil and groan,
I am as a spirit who has dwelt
I am drunk with the honey wine
Come, thou awakener of the spirit's ocean,
He came like a dream in the dawn of life,
Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil,
Fairest of the Destinies,
My faint spirit was sitting in the light
Tan ala tan glaukan otan onemos atrema Balle--k.t.l.
The world is now our dwelling-place;
And the cloven waters like a chasm of mountains
Melodious Arethusa, o'er my verse
Hark! the owlet flaps her wing,
Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
It is the day when all the sons of God
Ye wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove,
I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes,
O universal Mother, who dost keep
Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody,
Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once more
Muse, sing the deeds of golden Aphrodite,
And said I that all hope was fled,
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
From the forests and highlands
The awful shadow of some unseen Power
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula colles
Come, be happy!--sit near me,
The meadows with fresh streams, the bees with thyme,
Kissing Helena, together
The spider spreads her webs, whether she be
The fiery mountains answer each other;
That time is dead for ever, child!
Far, far away, O ye
The cold earth slept below,
Honey from silkworms who can gather,
Alas, good friend, what profit can you see
Many a green isle needs must be
Corpses are cold in the tomb;
She left me at the silent time
What! alive and so bold, O Earth?
We meet not as we parted,
When the lamp is shattered
Why is it said thou canst not live
And many there were hurt by that strong boy,
The fountains mingle with the river
Hopes, that swell in youthful breasts,
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair,
And earnest to explore within--around--
Art thou indeed forever gone,
The everlasting universe of things
I pant for the music which is divine,
The flower that smiles to-day
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
Palace-roof of cloudless nights!
Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying,
EPODE 1a.
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
'Choose Reform or Civil War,
The odour from the flower is gone
By the mossy brink,
Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes,
IN THE GRAVE, WHITHER THOU GOEST.--Ecclesiastes.
Her voice did quiver as we parted,
Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind
No trump tells thy virtues--the grave where they rest
Ghosts of the dead! have I not heard your yelling
It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky,
Here I sit with my paper, my pen and my ink,
Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill,
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be,
I met a traveller from an antique land
Pan loved his neighbour Echo--but that child
Listen, listen, Mary mine,
Is it a party in a parlour,
There was a youth, who, as with toil and travel,
Monarch of Gods and DAEmons, and all Spirits
ECRASEZ L'INFAME!--Correspondance de Voltaire.
Swifter far than summer's flight--
'Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill,
Come hither, my sweet Rosalind.
Oh! did you observe the Black Canon pass,
No access to the Duke! You have not said
The sun makes music as of old
In the sweet solitude of this calm place,
As from an ancestral oak
The death-bell beats!--
Fierce roars the midnight storm
Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling,
Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Come ! sweet is the hour,
See yon opening flower
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,
Men of England, wherefore plough
Ah! grasp the dire dagger and couch the fell spear,
Oh! what is the gain of restless care,
Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit
Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, and I,
Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there,
If I esteemed you less, Envy would kill
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame,
Vessels of heavenly medicine! may the breeze
Bright ball of flame that through the gloom of even
To me this world's a dreary blank,
Eagle! why soarest thou above that tomb?
How swiftly through Heaven's wide expanse
If I walk in Autumn's even
Tremble, Kings despised of man!
Hast thou not seen, officious with delight,
The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon,
'Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
At the creation of the Earth
Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream,
That matter of the murder is hushed up
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now
Nec tantum prodere vati,
Once, early in the morning, Beelzebub arose,
Old winter was gone
Ah! faint are her limbs, and her footstep is weary,
Ye who intelligent the Third Heaven move,
The waters are flashing,
I arise from dreams of thee
The stars may dissolve, and the fountain of light
There was a little lawny islet
'Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain;
As I lay asleep in Italy
Wilt thou forget the happy hours
Dearest, best and brightest,
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
A scene, which 'wildered fancy viewed
Osais de Broton ethnos aglaiais aptomestha
(As revised by Mr. C.D. Locock.)
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
Dar'st thou amid the varied multitude
What was the shriek that struck Fancy's ear
There late was One within whose subtle being,
Amid the desolation of a city,
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
O thou, who plumed with strong desire
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He
And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
How, my dear Mary,--are you critic-bitten
A woodman whose rough heart was out of tune
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light
Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring,
Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years,
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
When passion's trance is overpast,
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden,
Oh! there are spirits of the air,
One word is too often profaned
Yet look on me--take not thine eyes away,
Music, when soft voices die,
Stern, stern is the voice of fate's fearful command,
Ah! sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain,
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Sweet star, which gleaming o'er the darksome scene
The rose that drinks the fountain dew
Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die,
As restored by Mr. C.D. Locock.
Death! where is thy victory?
The serpent is shut out from Paradise.
Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me
Ever as now with Love and Virtue's glow
It is not blasphemy to hope that Heaven
O thou bright Sun! beneath the dark blue line
Thy look of love has power to calm
I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake;
Bear witness, Erin! when thine injured isle
The keen stars were twinkling,
Best and brightest, come away!
Now the last day of many days,
O Mary dear, that you were here
My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone,
The world is dreary,
Maiden, quench the glare of sorrow
Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed;
For your letter, dear -- , accept my best thanks,
Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,
Thou art fair, and few are fairer
Thou wert the morning star among the living,
Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest
Art thou pale for weariness
Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale,
Month after month the gathered rains descend
Shall we roam, my love,
Brothers! between you and me
(With what truth may I say--
The billows on the beach are leaping around it,
Thy little footsteps on the sands
Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow?
Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still
As a violet's gentle eye
A cat in distress,
'Twas dead of the night, when I sat in my dwelling;
Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled
Ariel to Miranda:--Take