Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know _40
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!
4.
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share _45
The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be
The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed _50 Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne"er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed _55 One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
5.
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, _60 Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse, _65
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O, Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? _70
AN EXHORTATION.
[Published with "Prometheus Unbound", 1820. Dated "Pisa, April, 1820"
in Harvard ma.n.u.script (Woodberry), but a.s.signed by Mrs. Sh.e.l.ley to 1819.]
Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets" food is love and fame: If in this wide world of care Poets could but find the same With as little toil as they, _5 Would they ever change their hue As the light chameleons do, Suiting it to every ray Twenty times a day?
Poets are on this cold earth, _10 As chameleons might be, Hidden from their early birth in a cave beneath the sea; Where light is, chameleons change: Where love is not, poets do: _15 Fame is love disguised: if few Find either, never think it strange That poets range.
Yet dare not stain with wealth or power A poet"s free and heavenly mind: _20 If bright chameleons should devour Any food but beams and wind, They would grow as earthly soon As their brother lizards are.
Children of a sunnier star, _25 Spirits from beyond the moon, Oh, refuse the boon!
THE INDIAN SERENADE.
[Published, with the t.i.tle, "Song written for an Indian Air", in "The Liberal", 2, 1822. Reprinted ("Lines to an Indian Air") by Mrs.
Sh.e.l.ley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. The poem is included in the Harvard ma.n.u.script book, and there is a description by Robert Browning of an autograph copy presenting some variations from the text of 1824. See Leigh Hunt"s "Correspondence", 2, pages 264-8.]
1.
I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, _5 And a spirit in my feet Hath led me--who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
2.
The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream-- _10 The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale"s complaint, It dies upon her heart;-- As I must on thine, _15 Oh, beloved as thou art!
3.
Oh lift me from the gra.s.s!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. _20 My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;-- Oh! press it to thine own again, Where it will break at last.
NOTES: _3 Harvard ma.n.u.script omits When.
_4 shining]burning Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1822.
_7 Hath led Browning ma.n.u.script, 1822; Has borne Harvard ma.n.u.script; Has led 1824.
_11 The Champak Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1822, 1824; And the Champak"s Browning ma.n.u.script.
_15 As I must on 1822, 1824; As I must die on Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1839, 1st edition.
_16 Oh, beloved Browning ma.n.u.script, Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1839, 1st edition; Beloved 1822, 1824.
_23 press it to thine own Browning ma.n.u.script; press it close to thine Harvard ma.n.u.script, 1824, 1839, 1st edition; press me to thine own, 1822.
CANCELLED Pa.s.sAGE.
[Published by W.M. Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works", 1870.]
O pillow cold and wet with tears!
Thou breathest sleep no more!
TO SOPHIA [MISS STACEY].
[Published by W.M. Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works", 1870.]
1.
Thou art fair, and few are fairer Of the Nymphs of earth or ocean; They are robes that fit the wearer-- Those soft limbs of thine, whose motion Ever falls and shifts and glances _5 As the life within them dances.
2.
Thy deep eyes, a double Planet, Gaze the wisest into madness With soft clear fire,--the winds that fan it Are those thoughts of tender gladness _10 Which, like zephyrs on the billow, Make thy gentle soul their pillow.
3.
If, whatever face thou paintest In those eyes, grows pale with pleasure, If the fainting soul is faintest _15 When it hears thy harp"s wild measure, Wonder not that when thou speakest Of the weak my heart is weakest.