The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley

Those subtle nets which snare the living and the dead.

  XXX

  ‘His spirit is their power, and they his slaves

  In air, and light, and thought, and language, dwell;

  390

  And keep their state from palaces to graves,

  In all resorts of men—invisible,

  But when, in ebon mirror, Nightmare fell

  To tyrant or impostor bids them rise,

  Black-wingèd demon forms—whom, from the hell,

  395

  His reign and dwelling beneath nether skies,

  He loosens to their dark and blasting ministries.

  XXXI

  In the world’s youth his empire was as firm

  As its foundations … Soon the Spirit of Good,

  Though in the likeness of a loathsome worm,

  400

  Sprang from the billows of the formless flood,

  Which shrank and fled; and with that Fiend of blood

  Renewed the doubtful war … Thrones then first shook,

  And earth’s immense and trampled multitude

  In hope on their own powers began to look,

  405

  And Fear, the demon pale, his sanguine shrine forsook.

  XXXII

  ‘Then Greece arose, and to its bards and sages,

  In dream, the golden-pinioned Genii came,

  Even where they slept amid the night of ages,

  Steeping their hearts in the divinest flame

  410

  Which thy breath kindled, Power of holiest name!

  And oft in cycles since, when darkness gave

  New weapons to thy foe, their sunlike fame

  Upon the combat shone—a light to save,

  Like Paradise spread forth beyond the shadowy grave.

  XXXIII

  415

  ‘Such is this conflict—when mankind doth strive

  With its oppressors in a strife of blood,

  Or when free thoughts, like lightnings, are alive,

  And in each bosom of the multitude

  Justice and truth with Custom’s hydra brood

  420

  Wage silent war; when Priests and Kings dissemble

  In smiles or frowns their fierce disquietude,

  When round pure hearts a host of hopes assemble,

  The Snake and Eagle meet—the world’s foundations tremble!

  XXXIV

  ‘Thou hast beheld that fight—when to thy home

  425

  Thou dost return, steep not its hearth in tears;

  Though thou may’st hear that earth is now become

  The tyrant’s garbage, which to his compeers,

  The vile reward of their dishonoured years,

  He will dividing give.—The victor Fiend,

  430

  Omnipotent of yore, now quails, and fears

  His triumph dearly won, which soon will lend

  An impulse swift and sure to his approaching end.

  XXXV

  List, stranger, list, mine is an human form,

  Like that thou wearest—touch me—shrink not now!

  435

  My hand thou feel’st is not a ghost’s, but warm

  With human blood.—’Twas many years ago,

  Since first my thirsting soul aspired to know

  The secrets of this wondrous world, when deep

  My heart was pierced with sympathy, for woe

  Which could not be mine own—and thought did keep,

  In dream, unnatural watch beside an infant’s sleep.

  XXXVI

  ‘Woe could not be mine own, since far from men

  I dwelt, a free and happy orphan child,

  By the sea-shore, in a deep mountain-glen;

  445

  And near the waves, and through the forests wild,

  I roamed, to storm and darkness reconciled:

  For I was calm while tempest shook the sky:

  But when the breathless heavens in beauty smiled,

  I wept, sweet tears, yet too tumultuously

  450

  For peace, and clasped my hands aloft in ecstasy.

  XXXVII

  ‘These were forebodings of my fate—before

  A woman’s heart beat in my virgin breast,

  It had been nurtured in divinest lore:

  A dying poet gave me books, and blessed

  455

  With wild but holy talk the sweet unrest

  In which I watched him as he died away—

  A youth with hoary hair—a fleeting guest

  Of our lone mountains: and this lore did sway

  My spirit like a storm, contending there alway.

  XXXVIII

  460

  ‘Thus the dark tale which history doth unfold

  I knew, but not, methinks, as others know,

  For they weep not; and Wisdom had unrolled

  The clouds which hide the gulf of mortal woe,—

  To few can she that warning vision show—

  465

  For I loved all things with intense devotion;

  So that when Hope’s deep source in fullest flow,

  Like earthquake did uplift the stagnant ocean

  Of human thoughts—mine shook beneath the wide emotion.

  XXXIX

  ‘When first the living blood through all these veins

  Kindled a thought in sense, great France sprang forth,

  And seized, as if to break, the ponderous chains

  Which bind in woe the nations of the earth.

  I saw, and started from my cottage-hearth;

  And to the clouds and waves in tameless gladness,

  475

  Shrieked, till they caught immeasurable mirth—

  And laughed in light and music: soon, sweet madness

  Was poured upon my heart, a soft and thrilling sadness.

  XL

  ‘Deep slumber fell on me:—my dreams were fire—

  Soft and delightful thoughts did rest and hover

  480

  Like shadows o’er my brain; and strange desire,

  The tempest of a passion, raging over

  My tranquil soul, its depths with light did cover,—

  Which passed; and calm, and darkness, sweeter far,

  Came—then I loved; but not a human lover!

  485

  For when I rose from sleep, the Morning Star

  Shone through the woodbine-wreaths which round my casement were.

  XLI

  ’Twas like an eye which seemed to smile on me.

  I watched, till by the sun made pale, it sank

  Under the billows of the heaving sea;

  490

  But from its beams deep love my spirit drank,

  And to my brain the boundless world now shrank

  Into one thought—one image—yes, for ever!

  Even like the dayspring, poured on vapours dank,

  The beams of that one Star did shoot and quiver

  495

  Through my benighted mind—and were extinguished never.

  XLII

  ‘The day passed thus: at night, methought in dream

  A shape of speechless beauty did appear:

  It stood like light on a careering stream

  Of golden clouds which shook the atmosphere;

  500

  A wingèd youth, his radiant brow did wear

  The Morning Star: a wild dissolving bliss

  Over my frame he breathed, approaching near,

  And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness

  Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss,—

  XLIII

  505

  ‘And said: “A Spirit loves thee, mortal maiden,

  How wilt thou prove thy worth?” Then joy and sleep

  Together fled, my soul was deeply laden,

  And to the shore I went to muse and weep;

  But as I moved, over my heart did creep

  510

  A
joy less soft, but more profound and strong

  Than my sweet dream; and it forbade to keep

  The path of the sea-shore: that Spirit’s tongue

  Seemed whispering in my heart, and bore my steps along.

  XLIV

  ‘How, to that vast and peopled city led,

  515

  Which was a field of holy warfare then,

  I walked among the dying and the dead,

  And shared in fearless deeds with evil men,

  Calm as an angel in the dragon’s den—

  How I braved death for liberty and truth,

  And spurned at peace, and power, and fame—and when

  Those hopes had lost the glory of their youth,

  How sadly I returned—might move the hearer’s ruth:

  XLV

  ‘Warm tears throng fast! the tale may not be said—

  Know then, that when this grief had been subdued,

  525

  I was not left, like others, cold and dead;

  The Spirit whom I loved, in solitude

  Sustained his child: the tempest-shaken wood,

  The waves, the fountains, and the hush of night—

  These were his voice, and well I understood

  530

  His smile divine, when the calm sea was bright

  With silent stars, and Heaven was breathless with delight.

  XLVI

  ‘In lonely glens, amid the roar of rivers,

  When the dim nights were moonless, have I known

  Joys which no tongue can tell; my pale lip quivers

  535

  When thought revisits them:—know thou alone,

  That after many wondrous years were flown,

  I was awakened by a shriek of woe;

  And over me a mystic robe was thrown,

  By viewless hands, and a bright Star did glow

  540

  Before my steps—the Snake then met his mortal foe.’

  XLVII

  ‘Thou fearest not then the Serpent on thy heart?’

  ‘Fear it!’ she said, with brief and passionate cry,

  And spake no more: that silence made me start—

  I looked, and we were sailing pleasantly,

  545

  Swift as a cloud between the sea and sky;

  Beneath the rising moon seen far away,

  Mountains of ice, like sapphire, piled on high,

  Hemming the horizon round, in silence lay

  On the still waters—these we did approach alway.

  XLVIII

  550

  And swift and swifter grew the vessel’s motion,

  So that a dizzy trance fell on my brain—

  Wild music woke me: we had passed the ocean

  Which girds the pole, Nature’s remotest reign—

  And we glode fast o’er a pellucid plain

  555

  Of waters, azure with the noontide day.

  Ethereal mountains shone around—a Fane

  Stood in the midst, girt by green isles which lay

  On the blue sunny deep, resplendent far away.

  XLIX

  It was a Temple, such as mortal hand

  560

  Has never built, nor ecstasy, nor dream

  Reared in the cities of enchanted land:

  ’Twas likest Heaven, ere yet day’s purple stream

  Ebbs o’er the western forest, while the gleam

  Of the unrisen moon among the clouds

  565

  Is gathering—when with many a golden beam

  The thronging constellations rush in crowds,

  Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal floods.

  L

  Like what may be conceived of this vast dome,

  When from the depths which thought can seldom pierce

  570

  Genius beholds it rise, his native home,

  Girt by the deserts of the Universe;

  Yet, nor in painting’s light, or mightier verse,

  Or sculpture’s marble language, can invest

  That shape to mortal sense—such glooms immerse

  575

  That incommunicable sight, and rest

  Upon the labouring brain and overburdened breast.

  LI

  Winding among the lawny islands fair,

  Whose blosmy forests starred the shadowy deep,

  The wingless boat paused where an ivory stair

  580

  Its fretwork in the crystal sea did steep,

  Encircling that vast Fane’s aërial heap:

  We disembarked, and through a portal wide

  We passed—whose roof of moonstone carved, did keep

  A glimmering o’er the forms on every side,

  585

  Sculptures like life and thought; immovable, deep-eyed.

  LII

  We came to a vast hall, whose glorious roof

  Was diamond, which had drank the lightning’s sheen

  In darkness, and now poured it through the woof

  Of spell-inwoven clouds hung there to screen

  590

  Its blinding splendour—through such veil was seen

  That work of subtlest power, divine and rare;

  Orb above orb, with starry shapes between,

  And hornèd moons, and meteors strange and fair,

  On night-black columns poised—one hollow hemisphere!

  LIII

  595

  Ten thousand columns in that quivering light

  Distinct—between whose shafts wound far away

  The long and labyrinthine aisles—more bright

  With their own radiance than the Heaven of Day;

  And on the jasper walls around, there lay

  600

  Paintings, the poesy of mightiest thought,

  Which did the Spirit’s history display;

  A tale of passionate change, divinely taught,

  Which, in their wingèd dance, unconscious Genii wrought.

  LIV

  Beneath, there sate on many a sapphire throne,

  605

  The Great, who had departed from mankind,

  A mighty Senate;—some, whose white hair shone

  Like mountain snow, mild, beautiful, and blind;

  Some, female forms, whose gestures beamed with mind;

  And ardent youths, and children bright and fair;

  610

  And some had lyres whose strings were intertwined

  With pale and clinging flames, which ever there

  Waked faint yet thrilling sounds that pierced the crystal air.

  LV

  One seat was vacant in the midst, a throne,

  Reared on a pyramid like sculptured flame,

  615

  Distinct with circling steps which rested on

  Their own deep fire—soon as the Woman came

  Into that hall, she shrieked the Spirit’s name

  And fell; and vanished slowly from the sight.

  Darkness arose from her dissolving frame,

  620

  Which gathering, filled that dome of woven light,

  Blotting its spherèd stars with supernatural night.

  LVI

  Then first, two glittering lights were seen to glide

  In circles on the amethystine floor,

  Small serpent eyes trailing from side to side,

  625

  Like meteors on a river’s grassy shore,

  They round each other rolled, dilating more

  And more—then rose, commingling into one,

  One clear and mighty planet hanging o’er

  A cloud of deepest shadow, which was thrown

  630

  Athwart the glowing steps and the crystalline throne.

  LVII

  The cloud which rested on that cone of flame

  Was cloven; beneath the planet sate a Form,

  Fairer than tongue can speak or thought may frame,

  The radiance of whose limbs rose-
like and warm

  635

  Flowed forth, and did with softest light inform

  The shadowy dome, the sculptures, and the state

  Of those assembled shapes—with clinging charm

  Sinking upon their hearts and mine. He sate

  Majestic, yet most mild—calm, yet compassionate.

  LVIII

  640

  Wonder and joy a passing faintness threw

  Over my brow—a hand supported me,

  Whose touch was magic strength: an eye of blue

  Looked into mine, like moonlight, soothingly;

  And a voice said.—‘Thou must a listener be

  645

  This day—two mighty Spirits now return,

  Like birds of calm, from the world’s raging sea,

  They pour fresh light from Hope’s immortal urn;

  A tale of human power—despair not—list and learn!’

  LIX

  I looked, and lo! one stood forth eloquently,

  650

  His eyes were dark and deep, and the clear brow

  Which shadowed them was like the morning sky,

  The cloudless Heaven of Spring, when in their flow

  Through the bright air, the soft winds as they blow

  Wake the green world—his gestures did obey

  655

  The oracular mind that made his features glow,

  And where his curvèd lips half-open lay,

  Passion’s divinest stream had made impetuous way.

  LX

  Beneath the darkness of his outspread hair

  He stood thus beautiful: but there was One

  660

  Who sate beside him like his shadow there,

  And held his hand—far lovelier—she was known

  To be thus fair, by the few lines alone

  Which through her floating locks and gathered cloak,

  Glances of soul-dissolving glory, shone:—