Imatges de pàgina
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As Repentance follows Crime,

And as changes follow Time.

In thine halls the lamp of learning,
Padua, now no more is burning;
Like a meteor, whose wild way
Is lost over the grave of day,

It gleams betrayed and to betray:
Once remotest nations came
To adore that sacred flame,
When it lit not many a hearth
On this cold and gloomy earth:
Now new fires from antique light

Spring beneath the wide world's might;
But their spark lies dead in thee,
Trampled out by tyranny.

As the Norway woodman quells,
In the depth of piny dells,

One light flame among the brakes,
While the boundless forest shakes,
And its mighty trunks are torn
By the fire thus lowly born:
The spark beneath his feet is dead,
He starts to see the flames it fed
Howling through the darkened sky
With a myriad tongues victoriously,
And sinks down in fear: so thou,
O Tyranny,1 beholdest now

Light around thee, and thou hearest
The loud flames ascend, and fearest:
Grovel on the earth: aye, hide
In the dust thy purple pride!

Noon descends around me now:

1 Tyranny with a small t in Shelley's edition.

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'Tis the noon of autumn's glow, When a soft and purple mist Like a vaporous amethyst,

Or an air-dissolvèd star

Mingling light and fragrance, far
From the curved horizon's bound
To the point of heaven's profound,
Fills the overflowing sky;

And the plains that silent lie
Underneath, the leaves unsodden
Where the infant frost has trodden
With his morning-winged feet,
Whose bright print is gleaming yet;
And the red and golden vines,
Piercing with their trellised lines.
The rough, dark-skirted wilderness;
The dun and bladed grass no less,
Pointing from this hoary tower
In the windless air; the flower
Glimmering at my feet; the line
Of the olive-sandalled Apennine
In the south dimly islanded;

And the Alps, whose snows are spread
High between the clouds and sun;

And of living things each one;

And my spirit which so long

Darkened this swift stream of song,
Interpenetrated lie

By the glory of the sky:

Be it love, light, harmony,

Odour, or the soul of all

Which from heaven like dew doth fall,
Or the mind which feeds this verse
Peopling the lone universe.

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Noon descends, and after noon

Autumn's evening meets me soon,

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Leading the infantine moon,
And that one star, which to her
Almost seems to minister

Half the crimson light she brings
From the sunset's radiant springs :
And the soft dreams of the morn,
(Which like winged winds had borne
To that silent isle, which lies
'Mid remembered agonies,

The frail bark of this lone being,)
Pass, to other sufferers fleeing,
And its ancient pilot, Pain,
Sits beside the helm again.

Other flowering isles must be
In the sea of life and agony :
Other spirits float and flee

O'er that gulph: even now, perhaps,
On some rock the wild wave wraps,
With folded wings they waiting sit
For my bark, to pilot it

To some calm and blooming cove,
Where for me, and those I love,
May a windless bower be built,
Far from passion, pain, and guilt,
In a dell 'mid lawny hills,
Which the wild sea-murmur fills,
And soft sunshine, and the sound
Of old forests echoing round,

And the light and smell divine

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Of all flowers that breathe and shine :

We may live so happy there,

That the spirits of the air,

BB

Envying us, may even entice
To our healing paradise

The polluting multitude;

But their rage would be subdued

By that clime divine and calm,

And the winds whose wings rain balm
On the uplifted soul, and leaves
Under which the bright sea heaves;
While each breathless interval

In their whisperings musical
The inspired soul supplies
With its own deep melodies,

And the love which heals all strife
Circling, like the breath of life,
All things in that sweet abode
With its own mild brotherhood:
They, not it would change; and soon
Every sprite beneath the moon
Would repent its envy vain,
And the earth grow young again.

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HYMN

TO.

INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY.1

1.

THE awful shadow of some unseen Power
Floats tho' unseen amongst us,-visiting
This various world with as inconstant wing

As summer winds that creep from flower to flower,—
Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower,

1 This poem was published in The Examiner for 19 January, 1817 (No. 473), having been, as the Editor remarks,

one left, the whole being replaced by more orthodox points. Moreover Shelley was in England when the Examiner version appeared, while, from the preface to the Rosalind volume, it would seem that he did not even know the Hymn was to be in that volume, -so that he is not likely to have prepared that version. On the whole therefore, I think it safer to give the earlier version, which presents no important difference from the other, except in this matter of punctuation, and in the few particulars specified in the following notes. Mrs. Shelley tells us in her note on Poems of 1816 that the Hymn was conceived during his voyage round the Lake [of Geneva] with Lord Byron."

originally announced under the signature of the Eifin Knight." In the meantime the authorship had become known to the editor; and the poem was duly signed, on its appearance, with the name PERCY B. SHELLEY. I suspect that Shelley read a proof of this poem before it appeared in The Examiner, or else that it was pretty correctly printed from a very careful copy. The punctuation is wholly different in system from that of the version in the Rosalind and Helen volume; and, referring to the remark made in a former note (p. 361) as to Peacock's practice of removing the pauses so constantly used by Shelley, it should be observed that this Hymn, as printed in The Examiner, has no less than twenty-one pauses in it, while the other version has not a single

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2 In the version of 1819, among, instead of amongst,-one point in which that version seems to me preferable to the other,--more Shelley-like in instinct for sound.

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