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Fireflies were quenched on the dewy corn,
And many rose
“What think you, as she lies in her green cove,
-"Never mind," said Lionel,
The chain is loosed, the sails are spread,
In morning's smile its eddies coil,
The Serchio, twisting forth
It rushes to the Ocean. July, 1821.
1. SUMMER was dead and Autumn was expiring,
And infant Winter laughed upon the land All cloudlessly and cold; when I, desiring
More in this world than any understand, Wept o'er the beauty, which like sea retiring,
Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand Of my poor heart, and o'er the grass and flowers Pale for the falsehood of the flattering hours.
Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep
The instability of all but weeping;
I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping.
The wakening vernal airs, until thou, leaping From unremembered dreams, shalt [ No death divide thy immortality.
Or any earthly one, though ye are dear
I loved, I know not what-but this low sphere And all that it contains, contains not thee,
Thou, whom seen nowhere, I feel everywhere, Dim object of my soul's idolatry. Veiled art thou like
IV. By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest,
Neither to be contained, delayed, or hidden, Making divine the loftiest and the lowest,
When for a moment thou art not forbidden
And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden,
In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common,
In music and the sweet unconscious tone Of animals, and voices which are human,
Meant to express sume feelings of their own;
In flowers and leaves, and in the fresh grass shown,
And thus I went, lamenting when I saw
A plant upon the river's margin lie,
And in despair had cast him down to die;
Had blighted as a heart which hatred's eye
The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth
Had crushed it on her unmaternal breast.
It in a vase full of the lightest mould;
Fell through the window panes, disrobed of cold,
İn evening for the Day, whose car has rolled Over the horizon's wave, with looks of light Smiled on it from the threshold of the night.
IX. The mitigated influences of air
And light revived the plant, and from it grew Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair,
Full as a cup with the vine's burning dew, O'erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere
Of vital warmth enfolded it anew, And every impulse sent to every part The unbeheld pulsations of its heart.
Even if the sun and air had smiled not on it;
Tears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon it
Mixed with the stringed melodies that won it
Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers
On which he wept, the while the savage storm
Was raving round the chamber hushed and warm;
The fish were frozen in the pools, the form
Sits near an open grave and calls them over,
They are the names of kindred, friend, and lover,
This most familiar scene, my pain-
Misery, my sweetest friend--oh! weep no more !
Thou wilt not be consoled-I wonder not !
Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot
This most familiar scene, my pain-
A LAMENT. Oh, world ! oh, life ! oh, time!
Out of the day and night On whose last steps I climb
A joy has taken fight; Trembling at that where I had stood Fresh spring, and summer, and before;
winter hoar, When will rulurn the glory of your Move my faint heart with grieí
, but prime ?
with delight No more-O, never more !
No more-0, never more!
LOVE'S FHILOSOPHY. The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
All things by a law divine
Why not I with thine ?
And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother:
And the moonbeams kiss the sea, What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me? January, 1820.
When the lute is broken,
When the lips have spoken,
As music and splendour
The heart's echoes render
No song but sad dirges,
Or the mournful surges
When hearts have once mingled
The weak one is singled
O Love ! who bewailest
Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home and your
bier? Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on higt:
Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave the naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come.
TO EMELIA VIVIANI. MADONNA, wherefore hast thou sent to me
Sweet basil and mignonette ? Embleming love and health, which
Alas, and they are wet !
For never rain or dew
Such fragrance drew From plant or flower—the very doubt endears
My sadness ever new, The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed
for thee. March, 1821.
Thou needest not fear mine;
Ever to burden thine. I fear thy mnien, thy tones, thy motion,
Thou needest not fear mine; Innocent is the heart's devotion
With which I worship thine.
TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.
Roma ! Roma ! Roma !
Non è più come era prima !) My lost William, thou in whom
Some bright spirit lived, and did That decaying robe consume
Which its lustre faintly hid, Here its ashes find a tomb,
But beneath this pyramid Thou art not-if a thing divine Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine Is thy mother's grief and mine. Where art thou, my gentle child ?
Let me think thy spirit feeds, Within its life intense and mild,
The love of living leaves and weeds, Among these tombs and ruins wild;
Let me think that through low seeds Of the sweet flowers and sunny grass, Into their hues and scents may pass A portion
LINES. When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead
When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed.