The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 27

Among mankind what thence befell _610 Of strife, how vain, is known too well; When Liberty's dear paean fell 'Mid murderous howls. To Lionel, Though of great wealth and lineage high, Yet through those dungeon walls there came _615 Thy thrilling light, O Liberty!

And as the meteor's midnight flame Startles the dreamer, sun-like truth Flashed on his visionary youth, And filled him, not with love, but faith, _620 And hope, and courage mute in death; For love and life in him were twins, Born at one birth: in every other First life then love its course begins, Though they be children of one mother; _625 And so through this dark world they fleet Divided, till in death they meet; But he loved all things ever. Then He pa.s.sed amid the strife of men, And stood at the throne of armed power _630 Pleading for a world of woe: Secure as one on a rock-built tower O'er the wrecks which the surge trails to and fro, 'Mid the pa.s.sions wild of human kind He stood, like a spirit calming them; _635 For, it was said, his words could bind Like music the lulled crowd, and stem That torrent of unquiet dream Which mortals truth and reason deem, But is revenge and fear and pride. _640 Joyous he was; and hope and peace On all who heard him did abide, Raining like dew from his sweet talk, As where the evening star may walk Along the brink of the gloomy seas, _645 Liquid mists of splendour quiver.

His very gestures touched to tears The unpersuaded tyrant, never So moved before: his presence stung The torturers with their victim's pain, _650 And none knew how; and through their ears The subtle witchcraft of his tongue Unlocked the hearts of those who keep Gold, the world's bond of slavery.

Men wondered, and some sneered to see _655 One sow what he could never reap: For he is rich, they said, and young, And might drink from the depths of luxury.

If he seeks Fame, Fame never crowned The champion of a trampled creed: _660 If he seeks Power, Power is enthroned 'Mid ancient rights and wrongs, to feed Which hungry wolves with praise and spoil, Those who would sit near Power must toil; And such, there sitting, all may see. _665 What seeks he? All that others seek He casts away, like a vile weed Which the sea casts unreturningly.

That poor and hungry men should break The laws which wreak them toil and scorn, _670 We understand; but Lionel We know, is rich and n.o.bly born.

So wondered they: yet all men loved Young Lionel, though few approved; All but the priests, whose hatred fell _675 Like the unseen blight of a smiling day, The withering honey dew, which clings Under the bright green buds of May, Whilst they unfold their emerald wings: For he made verses wild and queer _680 On the strange creeds priests hold so dear, Because they bring them land and gold.

Of devils and saints and all such gear, He made tales which whoso heard or read Would laugh till he were almost dead. _685 So this grew a proverb: 'Don't get old Till Lionel's "Banquet in h.e.l.l" you hear, And then you will laugh yourself young again.'

So the priests hated him, and he Repaid their hate with cheerful glee. _690

Ah, smiles and joyance quickly died, For public hope grew pale and dim In an altered time and tide, And in its wasting withered him, As a summer flower that blows too soon _695 Droops in the smile of the waning moon, When it scatters through an April night The frozen dews of wrinkling blight.

None now hoped more. Gray Power was seated Safely on her ancestral throne; _700 And Faith, the Python, undefeated, Even to its blood-stained steps dragged on Her foul and wounded train, and men Were trampled and deceived again, And words and shows again could bind _705 The wailing tribes of human kind In scorn and famine. Fire and blood Raged round the raging mult.i.tude, To fields remote by tyrants sent To be the scorned instrument _710 With which they drag from mines of gore The chains their slaves yet ever wore: And in the streets men met each other, And by old altars and in halls, And smiled again at festivals. _715 But each man found in his heart's brother Cold cheer; for all, though half deceived, The outworn creeds again believed, And the same round anew began, Which the weary world yet ever ran. _720

Many then wept, not tears, but gall Within their hearts, like drops which fall Wasting the fountain-stone away.

And in that dark and evil day Did all desires and thoughts, that claim _725 Men's care--ambition, friendship, fame, Love, hope, though hope was now despair-- Indue the colours of this change, As from the all-surrounding air The earth takes hues obscure and strange, _730 When storm and earthquake linger there.

And so, my friend, it then befell To many, most to Lionel, Whose hope was like the life of youth Within him, and when dead, became _735 A spirit of unresting flame, Which goaded him in his distress Over the world's vast wilderness.

Three years he left his native land, And on the fourth, when he returned, _740 None knew him: he was stricken deep With some disease of mind, and turned Into aught unlike Lionel.

On him, on whom, did he pause in sleep, Serenest smiles were wont to keep, _745 And, did he wake, a winged band Of bright persuasions, which had fed On his sweet lips and liquid eyes, Kept their swift pinions half outspread To do on men his least command; _750 On him, whom once 'twas paradise Even to behold, now misery lay: In his own heart 'twas merciless, To all things else none may express Its innocence and tenderness. _755

'Twas said that he had refuge sought In love from his unquiet thought In distant lands, and been deceived By some strange show; for there were found, Blotted with tears as those relieved _760 By their own words are wont to do, These mournful verses on the ground, By all who read them blotted too.

'How am I changed! my hopes were once like fire: I loved, and I believed that life was love. _765 How am I lost! on wings of swift desire Among Heaven's winds my spirit once did move.

I slept, and silver dreams did aye inspire My liquid sleep: I woke, and did approve All nature to my heart, and thought to make _770 A paradise of earth for one sweet sake.

'I love, but I believe in love no more.

I feel desire, but hope not. O, from sleep Most vainly must my weary brain implore Its long lost flattery now: I wake to weep, _775 And sit through the long day gnawing the core Of my bitter heart, and, like a miser, keep, Since none in what I feel take pain or pleasure, To my own soul its self-consuming treasure.'

He dwelt beside me near the sea; _780 And oft in evening did we meet, When the waves, beneath the starlight, flee O'er the yellow sands with silver feet, And talked: our talk was sad and sweet, Till slowly from his mien there pa.s.sed _785 The desolation which it spoke; And smiles,--as when the lightning's blast Has parched some heaven-delighting oak, The next spring shows leaves pale and rare, But like flowers delicate and fair, _790 On its rent boughs,--again arrayed His countenance in tender light: His words grew subtile fire, which made The air his hearers breathed delight: His motions, like the winds, were free, _795 Which bend the bright gra.s.s gracefully, Then fade away in circlets faint: And winged Hope, on which upborne His soul seemed hovering in his eyes, Like some bright spirit newly born _800 Floating amid the sunny skies, Sprang forth from his rent heart anew.

Yet o'er his talk, and looks, and mien, Tempering their loveliness too keen, Past woe its shadow backward threw, _805 Till like an exhalation, spread From flowers half drunk with evening dew, They did become infectious: sweet And subtle mists of sense and thought: Which wrapped us soon, when we might meet, _810 Almost from our own looks and aught The wild world holds. And so, his mind Was healed, while mine grew sick with fear: For ever now his health declined, Like some frail bark which cannot bear _815 The impulse of an altered wind, Though prosperous: and my heart grew full 'Mid its new joy of a new care: For his cheek became, not pale, but fair, As rose-o'ershadowed lilies are; _820 And soon his deep and sunny hair, In this alone less beautiful, Like gra.s.s in tombs grew wild and rare.

The blood in his translucent veins Beat, not like animal life, but love _825 Seemed now its sullen springs to move, When life had failed, and all its pains: And sudden sleep would seize him oft Like death, so calm, but that a tear, His pointed eyelashes between, _830 Would gather in the light serene Of smiles, whose l.u.s.tre bright and soft Beneath lay undulating there.

His breath was like inconstant flame, As eagerly it went and came; _835 And I hung o'er him in his sleep, Till, like an image in the lake Which rains disturb, my tears would break The shadow of that slumber deep: Then he would bid me not to weep, _840 And say, with flattery false, yet sweet, That death and he could never meet, If I would never part with him.

And so we loved, and did unite All that in us was yet divided: _845 For when he said, that many a rite, By men to bind but once provided, Could not be shared by him and me, Or they would kill him in their glee, I shuddered, and then laughing said-- _850 'We will have rites our faith to bind, But our church shall be the starry night, Our altar the gra.s.sy earth outspread, And our priest the muttering wind.'

'Twas sunset as I spoke: one star _855 Had scarce burst forth, when from afar The ministers of misrule sent, Seized upon Lionel, and bore His chained limbs to a dreary tower, In the midst of a city vast and wide. _860 For he, they said, from his mind had bent Against their G.o.ds keen blasphemy, For which, though his soul must roasted be In h.e.l.l's red lakes immortally, Yet even on earth must he abide _865 The vengeance of their slaves: a trial, I think, men call it. What avail Are prayers and tears, which chase denial From the fierce savage, nursed in hate?

What the knit soul that pleading and pale _870 Makes wan the quivering cheek, which late It painted with its own delight?

We were divided. As I could, I stilled the tingling of my blood, And followed him in their despite, _875 As a widow follows, pale and wild, The murderers and corse of her only child; And when we came to the prison door And I prayed to share his dungeon floor With prayers which rarely have been spurned, _880 And when men drove me forth and I Stared with blank frenzy on the sky, A farewell look of love he turned, Half calming me; then gazed awhile, As if thro' that black and ma.s.sy pile, _885 And thro' the crowd around him there, And thro' the dense and murky air, And the thronged streets, he did espy What poets know and prophesy; And said, with voice that made them shiver _890 And clung like music in my brain, And which the mute walls spoke again Prolonging it with deepened strain: 'Fear not the tyrants shall rule for ever, Or the priests of the b.l.o.o.d.y faith; _895 They stand on the brink of that mighty river, Whose waves they have tainted with death: It is fed from the depths of a thousand dells, Around them it foams, and rages, and swells, And their swords and their sceptres I floating see, _900 Like wrecks in the surge of eternity.'

I dwelt beside the prison gate; And the strange crowd that out and in Pa.s.sed, some, no doubt, with mine own fate, Might have fretted me with its ceaseless din, _905 But the fever of care was louder within.

Soon, but too late, in penitence Or fear, his foes released him thence: I saw his thin and languid form, As leaning on the jailor's arm, _910 Whose hardened eyes grew moist the while, To meet his mute and faded smile, And hear his words of kind farewell, He tottered forth from his damp cell.

Many had never wept before, _915 From whom fast tears then gushed and fell: Many will relent no more, Who sobbed like infants then; aye, all Who thronged the prison's stony hall, The rulers or the slaves of law, _920 Felt with a new surprise and awe That they were human, till strong shame Made them again become the same.

The prison blood-hounds, huge and grim, From human looks the infection caught, _925 And fondly crouched and fawned on him; And men have heard the prisoners say, Who in their rotting dungeons lay, That from that hour, throughout one day, The fierce despair and hate which kept _930 Their trampled bosoms almost slept: Where, like twin vultures, they hung feeding On each heart's wound, wide torn and bleeding,-- Because their jailors' rule, they thought, Grew merciful, like a parent's sway. _935

I know not how, but we were free: And Lionel sate alone with me, As the carriage drove thro' the streets apace; And we looked upon each other's face; And the blood in our fingers intertwined _940 Ran like the thoughts of a single mind, As the swift emotions went and came Thro' the veins of each united frame.

So thro' the long long streets we pa.s.sed Of the million-peopled City vast; _945 Which is that desert, where each one Seeks his mate yet is alone, Beloved and sought and mourned of none; Until the clear blue sky was seen, And the gra.s.sy meadows bright and green, _950 And then I sunk in his embrace, Enclosing there a mighty s.p.a.ce Of love: and so we travelled on By woods, and fields of yellow flowers, And towns, and villages, and towers, _955 Day after day of happy hours.

It was the azure time of June, When the skies are deep in the stainless noon, And the warm and fitful breezes shake The fresh green leaves of the hedgerow briar, _960 And there were odours then to make The very breath we did respire A liquid element, whereon Our spirits, like delighted things That walk the air on subtle wings, _965 Floated and mingled far away, 'Mid the warm winds of the sunny day.

And when the evening star came forth Above the curve of the new bent moon, And light and sound ebbed from the earth, _970 Like the tide of the full and the weary sea To the depths of its own tranquillity, Our natures to its own repose Did the earth's breathless sleep attune: Like flowers, which on each other close _975 Their languid leaves when daylight's gone, We lay, till new emotions came, Which seemed to make each mortal frame One soul of interwoven flame, A life in life, a second birth _980 In worlds diviner far than earth, Which, like two strains of harmony That mingle in the silent sky Then slowly disunite, pa.s.sed by And left the tenderness of tears, _985 A soft oblivion of all fears, A sweet sleep: so we travelled on Till we came to the home of Lionel, Among the mountains wild and lone, Beside the h.o.a.ry western sea, _990 Which near the verge of the echoing sh.o.r.e The ma.s.sy forest shadowed o'er.

The ancient steward, with hair all h.o.a.r, As we alighted, wept to see His master changed so fearfully; _995 And the old man's sobs did waken me From my dream of unremaining gladness; The truth flashed o'er me like quick madness When I looked, and saw that there was death On Lionel: yet day by day _1000 He lived, till fear grew hope and faith, And in my soul I dared to say, Nothing so bright can pa.s.s away: Death is dark, and foul, and dull, But he is--O how beautiful! _1005 Yet day by day he grew more weak, And his sweet voice, when he might speak, Which ne'er was loud, became more low; And the light which flashed through his waxen cheek Grew faint, as the rose-like hues which flow _1010 From sunset o'er the Alpine snow: And death seemed not like death in him, For the spirit of life o'er every limb Lingered, a mist of sense and thought.

When the summer wind faint odours brought _1015 From mountain flowers, even as it pa.s.sed His cheek would change, as the noonday sea Which the dying breeze sweeps fitfully.

If but a cloud the sky o'ercast, You might see his colour come and go, _1020 And the softest strain of music made Sweet smiles, yet sad, arise and fade Amid the dew of his tender eyes; And the breath, with intermitting flow, Made his pale lips quiver and part. _1025 You might hear the beatings of his heart, Quick, but not strong; and with my tresses When oft he playfully would bind In the bowers of mossy lonelinesses His neck, and win me so to mingle _1030 In the sweet depth of woven caresses, And our faint limbs were intertwined, Alas! the unquiet life did tingle From mine own heart through every vein, Like a captive in dreams of liberty, _1035 Who beats the walls of his stony cell.

But his, it seemed already free, Like the shadow of fire surrounding me!

On my faint eyes and limbs did dwell That spirit as it pa.s.sed, till soon, _1040 As a frail cloud wandering o'er the moon, Beneath its light invisible, Is seen when it folds its gray wings again To alight on midnight's dusky plain, I lived and saw, and the gathering soul _1045 Pa.s.sed from beneath that strong control, And I fell on a life which was sick with fear Of all the woe that now I bear.

Amid a bloomless myrtle wood, On a green and sea-girt promontory, _1050 Not far from where we dwelt, there stood In record of a sweet sad story, An altar and a temple bright Circled by steps, and o'er the gate Was sculptured, 'To Fidelity;' _1055 And in the shrine an image sate, All veiled: but there was seen the light Of smiles which faintly could express A mingled pain and tenderness Through that ethereal drapery. _1060 The left hand held the head, the right-- Beyond the veil, beneath the skin, You might see the nerves quivering within-- Was forcing the point of a barbed dart Into its side-convulsing heart. _1065 An unskilled hand, yet one informed With genius, had the marble warmed With that pathetic life. This tale It told: A dog had from the sea, When the tide was raging fearfully, _1070 Dragged Lionel's mother, weak and pale, Then died beside her on the sand, And she that temple thence had planned; But it was Lionel's own hand Had wrought the image. Each new moon _1075 That lady did, in this lone fane, The rites of a religion sweet, Whose G.o.d was in her heart and brain: The seasons' loveliest flowers were strewn On the marble floor beneath her feet, _1080 And she brought crowns of sea-buds white Whose odour is so sweet and faint, And weeds, like branching chrysolite, Woven in devices fine and quaint.

And tears from her brown eyes did stain _1085 The altar: need but look upon That dying statue fair and wan, If tears should cease, to weep again: And rare Arabian odours came, Through the myrtle copses steaming thence _1090 From the hissing frankincense, Whose smoke, wool-white as ocean foam, Hung in dense flocks beneath the dome-- That ivory dome, whose azure night With golden stars, like heaven, was bright-- _1095 O'er the split cedar's pointed flame; And the lady's harp would kindle there The melody of an old air, Softer than sleep; the villagers Mixed their religion up with hers, _1100 And, as they listened round, shed tears.

One eve he led me to this fane: Daylight on its last purple cloud Was lingering gray, and soon her strain The nightingale began; now loud, _1105 Climbing in circles the windless sky, Now dying music; suddenly 'Tis scattered in a thousand notes, And now to the hushed ear it floats Like field smells known in infancy, _1110 Then failing, soothes the air again.

We sate within that temple lone, Pavilioned round with Parian stone: His mother's harp stood near, and oft I had awakened music soft _1115 Amid its wires: the nightingale Was pausing in her heaven-taught tale: 'Now drain the cup,' said Lionel, 'Which the poet-bird has crowned so well With the wine of her bright and liquid song! _1120 Heardst thou not sweet words among That heaven-resounding minstrelsy?

Heard'st thou not that those who die Awake in a world of ecstasy?

That love, when limbs are interwoven, _1125 And sleep, when the night of life is cloven, And thought, to the world's dim boundaries clinging, And music, when one beloved is singing, Is death? Let us drain right joyously The cup which the sweet bird fills for me.' _1130 He paused, and to my lips he bent His own: like spirit his words went Through all my limbs with the speed of fire; And his keen eyes, glittering through mine, Filled me with the flame divine, _1135 Which in their orbs was burning far, Like the light of an unmeasured star, In the sky of midnight dark and deep: Yes, 'twas his soul that did inspire Sounds, which my skill could ne'er awaken; _1140 And first, I felt my fingers sweep The harp, and a long quivering cry Burst from my lips in symphony: The dusk and solid air was shaken, As swift and swifter the notes came _1145 From my touch, that wandered like quick flame, And from my bosom, labouring With some unutterable thing: The awful sound of my own voice made My faint lips tremble; in some mood _1150 Of wordless thought Lionel stood So pale, that even beside his cheek The snowy column from its shade Caught whiteness: yet his countenance, Raised upward, burned with radiance _1155 Of spirit-piercing joy, whose light, Like the moon struggling through the night Of whirlwind-rifted clouds, did break With beams that might not be confined.

I paused, but soon his gestures kindled _1160 New power, as by the moving wind The waves are lifted, and my song To low soft notes now changed and dwindled, And from the twinkling wires among, My languid fingers drew and flung _1165 Circles of life-dissolving sound, Yet faint; in aery rings they bound My Lionel, who, as every strain Grew fainter but more sweet, his mien Sunk with the sound relaxedly; _1170 And slowly now he turned to me, As slowly faded from his face That awful joy: with looks serene He was soon drawn to my embrace, And my wild song then died away _1175 In murmurs: words I dare not say We mixed, and on his lips mine fed Till they methought felt still and cold: 'What is it with thee, love?' I said: No word, no look, no motion! yes, _1180 There was a change, but spare to guess, Nor let that moment's hope be told.

I looked, and knew that he was dead, And fell, as the eagle on the plain Falls when life deserts her brain, _1185 And the mortal lightning is veiled again.

O that I were now dead! but such (Did they not, love, demand too much, Those dying murmurs?) he forbade.

O that I once again were mad! _1190 And yet, dear Rosalind, not so, For I would live to share thy woe.

Sweet boy! did I forget thee too?

Alas, we know not what we do When we speak words.

No memory more _1195 Is in my mind of that sea sh.o.r.e.

Madness came on me, and a troop Of misty shapes did seem to sit Beside me, on a vessel's p.o.o.p, And the clear north wind was driving it. _1200 Then I heard strange tongues, and saw strange flowers, And the stars methought grew unlike ours, And the azure sky and the stormless sea Made me believe that I had died, And waked in a world, which was to me _1205 Drear h.e.l.l, though heaven to all beside: Then a dead sleep fell on my mind, Whilst animal life many long years Had rescued from a chasm of tears; And when I woke, I wept to find _1210 That the same lady, bright and wise, With silver locks and quick brown eyes, The mother of my Lionel, Had tended me in my distress, And died some months before. Nor less _1215 Wonder, but far more peace and joy, Brought in that hour my lovely boy; For through that trance my soul had well The impress of thy being kept; And if I waked, or if I slept, _1220 No doubt, though memory faithless be, Thy image ever dwelt on me; And thus, O Lionel, like thee Is our sweet child. 'Tis sure most strange I knew not of so great a change, _1225 As that which gave him birth, who now Is all the solace of my woe.

That Lionel great wealth had left By will to me, and that of all The ready lies of law bereft _1230 My child and me, might well befall.

But let me think not of the scorn, Which from the meanest I have borne, When, for my child's beloved sake, I mixed with slaves, to vindicate _1235 The very laws themselves do make: Let me not say scorn is my fate, Lest I be proud, suffering the same With those who live in deathless fame.

She ceased.--'Lo, where red morning thro' the woods _1240 Is burning o'er the dew;' said Rosalind.

And with these words they rose, and towards the flood Of the blue lake, beneath the leaves now wind With equal steps and fingers intertwined: Thence to a lonely dwelling, where the sh.o.r.e _1245 Is shadowed with steep rocks, and cypresses Cleave with their dark green cones the silent skies, And with their shadows the clear depths below, And where a little terrace from its bowers, Of blooming myrtle and faint lemon-flowers, _1250 Scatters its sense-dissolving fragrance o'er The liquid marble of the windless lake; And where the aged forest's limbs look h.o.a.r, Under the leaves which their green garments make, They come: 'Tis Helen's home, and clean and white, _1255 Like one which tyrants spare on our own land In some such solitude, its cas.e.m.e.nts bright Shone through their vine-leaves in the morning sun, And even within 'twas scarce like Italy.

And when she saw how all things there were planned, _1260 As in an English home, dim memory Disturbed poor Rosalind: she stood as one Whose mind is where his body cannot be, Till Helen led her where her child yet slept, And said, 'Observe, that brow was Lionel's, _1265 Those lips were his, and so he ever kept One arm in sleep, pillowing his head with it.

You cannot see his eyes--they are two wells Of liquid love: let us not wake him yet.'

But Rosalind could bear no more, and wept _1270 A shower of burning tears, which fell upon His face, and so his opening lashes shone With tears unlike his own, as he did leap In sudden wonder from his innocent sleep.

So Rosalind and Helen lived together _1275 Thenceforth, changed in all else, yet friends again, Such as they were, when o'er the mountain heather They wandered in their youth, through sun and rain.

And after many years, for human things Change even like the ocean and the wind, _1280 Her daughter was restored to Rosalind, And in their circle thence some visitings Of joy 'mid their new calm would intervene: A lovely child she was, of looks serene, And motions which o'er things indifferent shed _1285 The grace and gentleness from whence they came.

And Helen's boy grew with her, and they fed From the same flowers of thought, until each mind Like springs which mingle in one flood became, And in their union soon their parents saw _1290 The shadow of the peace denied to them.

And Rosalind, for when the living stem Is cankered in its heart, the tree must fall, Died ere her time; and with deep grief and awe The pale survivors followed her remains _1295 Beyond the region of dissolving rains, Up the cold mountain she was wont to call Her tomb; and on Chiavenna's precipice They raised a pyramid of lasting ice, Whose polished sides, ere day had yet begun, _1300 Caught the first glow of the unrisen sun, The last, when it had sunk; and thro' the night The charioteers of Arctos wheeled round Its glittering point, as seen from Helen's home, Whose sad inhabitants each year would come, _1305 With willing steps climbing that rugged height, And hang long locks of hair, and garlands bound With amaranth flowers, which, in the clime's despite, Filled the frore air with unaccustomed light: Such flowers, as in the wintry memory bloom _1310 Of one friend left, adorned that frozen tomb.

Helen, whose spirit was of softer mould, Whose sufferings too were less, Death slowlier led Into the peace of his dominion cold: She died among her kindred, being old. _1315 And know, that if love die not in the dead As in the living, none of mortal kind Are blest, as now Helen and Rosalind.

NOTES: _63 from there]from thee edition 1819.

_366 fell]ran edition 1819.

_405-_408 See Editor's Note on this pa.s.sage.

_551 Where]When edition 1819.

_572 Ay, overflowing]Aye overflowing edition 1819.

_612 dear]clear cj. Bradley.

_711 gore editions 1819, 1839. See Editor's Note.

_932 Where]When edition 1819.

_1093-_1096 See Editor's Note.

_1168-_1171] See Editor's Note.

_1209 rescue]rescued edition 1819. See Editor's Note.