The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley

  665

  None else beheld her eyes—in him they woke

  Memories which found a tongue as thus he silence broke.

  CANTO II

  I

  THE starlight smile of children, the sweet looks

  Of women, the fair breast from which I fed,

  The murmur of the unreposing brooks,

  670

  And the green light which, shifting overhead,

  Some tangled bower of vines around me shed,

  The shells on the sea-sand, and the wild flowers,

  The lamplight through the rafters cheerly spread,

  And on the twining flax—in life’s young hours

  675

  These sights and sounds did nurse my spirit’s folded powers.

  II

  In Argolis, beside the echoing sea,

  Such impulses within my mortal frame

  Arose, and they were dear to memory,

  Like tokens of the dead:—but others came

  680

  Soon, in another shape: the wondrous fame

  Of the past world, the vital words and deeds

  Of minds whom neither time nor change can tame,

  Traditions dark and old, whence evil creeds

  Start forth, and whose dim shade a stream of poison feeds.

  III

  685

  I heard, as all have heard, the various story

  Of human life, and wept unwilling tears.

  Feeble historians of its shame and glory,

  False disputants on all its hopes and fears,

  Victims who worshipped ruin,—chroniclers

  690

  Of daily scorn, and slaves who loathed their state

  Yet, flattering power, had given its ministers

  A throne of judgement in the grave:—’twas fate,

  That among such as these my youth should seek its mate.

  IV

  The land in which I lived, by a fell bane

  695

  Was withered up. Tyrants dwelt side by side,

  And stabled in our homes,—until the chain

  Stifled the captive’s cry, and to abide

  That blasting curse men had no shame—all vied

  In evil, slave and despot; fear with lust

  700

  Strange fellowship through mutual hate had tied,

  Like two dark serpents tangled in the dust,

  Which on the paths of men their mingling poison thrust.

  V

  Earth, our bright home, its mountains and its waters,

  And the ethereal shapes which are suspended

  705

  Over its green expanse, and those fair daughters,

  The clouds, of Sun and Ocean, who have blended

  The colours of the air since first extended

  It cradled the young world, none wandered forth

  To see or feel: a darkness had descended

  710

  On every heart: the light which shows its worth,

  Must among gentle thoughts and fearless take its birth.

  VI

  This vital world, this home of happy spirits,

  Was as a dungeon to my blasted kind;

  All that despair from murdered hope inherits

  715

  They sought, and in their helpless misery blind,

  A deeper prison and heavier chains did find,

  And stronger tyrants:—a dark gulf before,

  The realm of a stern Ruler, yawned; behind,

  Terror and Time conflicting drove, and bore

  720

  On their tempestuous flood the shrieking wretch from shore.

  VII

  Out of that Ocean’s wrecks had Guilt and Woe

  Framed a dark dwelling for their homeless thought,

  And, starting at the ghosts which to and fro

  Glide o’er its dim and gloomy strand, had brought

  725

  The worship thence which they each other taught.

  Well might men loathe their life, well might they turn

  Even to the ills again from which they sought

  Such refuge after death!—well might they learn

  To gaze on this fair world with hopeless unconcern!

  VIII

  730

  For they all pined in bondage; body and soul,

  Tyrant and slave, victim and torturer, bent

  Before one Power, to which supreme control

  Over their will by their own weakness lent,

  Made all its many names omnipotent;

  735

  All symbols of things evil, all divine;

  And hymns of blood or mockery, which rent

  The air from all its fanes, did intertwine

  Imposture’s impious toils round each discordant shrine.

  IX

  I heard, as all have heard, life’s various story,

  740

  And in no careless heart transcribed the tale;

  But, from the sneers of men who had grown hoary

  In shame and scorn, from groans of crowds made pale

  By famine, from a mother’s desolate wail

  O’er her polluted child, from innocent blood

  745

  Poured on the earth, and brows anxious and pale

  With the heart’s warfare; did I gather food

  To feed my many thoughts: a tameless multitude!

  X

  I wandered through the wrecks of days departed

  Far by the desolated shore, when even

  750

  O’er the still sea and jagged islets darted

  The light of moonrise; in the northern Heaven,

  Among the clouds near the horizon driven,

  The mountains lay beneath our planet pale;

  Around me, broken tombs and columns riven

  755

  Looked vast in twilight, and the sorrowing gale

  Waked in those ruins gray its everlasting wail!

  XI

  I knew not who had framed these wonders then,

  Nor had I heard the story of their deeds;

  But dwellings of a race of mightier men,

  760

  And monuments of less ungentle creeds

  Tell their own tale to him who wisely heeds

  The language which they speak; and now, to me

  The moonlight making pale the blooming weeds,

  The bright stars shining in the breathless sea,

  765

  Interpreted those scrolls of mortal mystery.

  XII

  Such man has been, and such may yet become!

  Ay, wiser, greater, gentler, even than they

  Who on the fragments of yon shattered dome

  Have stamped the sign of power—I felt the sway

  770

  Of the vast stream of ages bear away

  My floating thoughts—my heart beat loud and fast—

  Even as a storm let loose beneath the ray

  Of the still moon, my spirit onward past

  Beneath truth’s steady beams upon its tumult cast.

  XIII

  775

  It shall be thus no more! too long, too long,

  Sons of the glorious dead, have ye lain bound

  In darkness and in ruin!—Hope is strong,

  Justice and Truth their wingèd child have found—

  Awake! arise! until the mighty sound

  780

  Of your career shall scatter in its gust

  The thrones of the oppressor, and the ground

  Hide the last altar’s unregarded dust,

  Whose Idol has so long betrayed your impious trust!

  XIV

  It must be so—I will arise and waken

  785

  The multitude, and like a sulphurous hill,

  Which on a sudden from its snows has shaken

  The swoon of ages, it shall burst and fill

  The world with cleansing fire: it must, it will—

  I
t may not be restrained!—and who shall stand

  790

  Amid the rocking earthquake steadfast still,

  But Laon? on high Freedom’s desert land

  A tower whose marble walls the leaguèd storms withstand!

  XV

  One summer night, in commune with the hope

  Thus deeply fed, amid those ruins gray

  795

  I watched, beneath the dark sky’s starry cope;

  And ever from that hour upon me lay

  The burden of this hope, and night or day,

  In vision or in dream, clove to my breast:

  Among mankind, or when gone far away

  800

  To the lone shores and mountains, ’twas a guest

  Which followed where I fled, and watched when I did rest.

  XVI

  These hopes found words through which my spirit sought

  To weave a bondage of such sympathy,

  As might create some response to the thought

  805

  Which ruled me now—and as the vapours lie

  Bright in the outspread morning’s radiancy,

  So were these thoughts invested with the light

  Of language: and all bosoms made reply

  On which its lustre streamed, whene’er it might

  810

  Through darkness wide and deep those trancèd spirits smite.

  XVII

  Yes, many an eye with dizzy tears was dim,

  And oft I thought to clasp my own heart’s brother,

  When I could feel the listener’s senses swim,

  And hear his breath its own swift gaspings smother

  815

  Even as my words evoked them—and another,

  And yet another, I did fondly deem,

  Felt that we all were sons of one great mother;

  And the cold truth such sad reverse did seem,

  As to awake in grief from some delightful dream.

  XVIII

  820

  Yes, oft beside the ruined labyrinth

  Which skirts the hoary caves of the green deep,

  Did Laon and his friend, on one gray plinth,

  Round whose worn base the wild waves hiss and leap,

  Resting at eve, a lofty converse keep:

  825

  And that this friend was false, may now be said

  Calmly—that he like other men could weep

  Tears which are lies, and could betray and spread

  Snares for that guileless heart which for his own had bled.

  XIX

  Then, had no great aim recompensed my sorrow,

  830

  I must have sought dark respite from its stress

  In dreamless rest, in sleep that sees no morrow—

  For to tread life’s dismaying wilderness

  Without one smile to cheer, one voice to bless,

  Amid the snares and scoffs of human kind,

  835

  Is hard—but I betrayed it not, nor less

  With love that scorned return, sought to unbind

  The interwoven clouds which make its wisdom blind.

  XX

  With deathless minds which leave where they have passed

  A path of light, my soul communion knew;

  840

  Till from that glorious intercourse, at last,

  As from a mine of magic store, I drew

  Words which were weapons;—round my heart there grew

  The adamantine armour of their power,

  And from my fancy wings of golden hue

  845

  Sprang forth—yet not alone from wisdom’s tower,

  A minister of truth, these plumes young Laon bore.

  XXI

  An orphan with my parents lived, whose eyes

  Were lodestars of delight, which drew me home

  When I might wander forth; nor did I prize

  850

  Aught human thing beneath Heaven’s mighty dome

  Beyond this child: so when sad hours were come,

  And baffled hope like ice still clung to me,

  Since kin were cold, and friends had now become

  Heartless and false, I turned from all, to be,

  855

  Cythna, the only source of tears and smiles to thee.

  XXII

  What wert thou then? A child most infantine,

  Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age

  In all but its sweet looks and mien divine:

  Even then, methought, with the world’s tyrant rage

  860

  A patient warfare thy young heart did wage,

  When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought

  Some tale, or thine own fancies, would engage

  To overflow with tears, or converse fraught

  With passion, o’er their depths its fleeting light had wrought.

  XXIII

  865

  She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness,

  A power, that from its objects scarcely drew

  One impulse of her being—in her lightness

  Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew,

  Which wanders through the waste air’s pathless blue,

  870

  To nourish some far desert: she did seem

  Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew,

  Like the bright shade of some immortal dream

  Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the wave of life’s dark stream.

  XXIV

  As mine own shadow was this child to me,

  875

  A second self, far dearer and more fair;

  Which clothed in undissolving radiancy

  All those steep paths which languor and despair

  Of human things, had made so dark and bare,

  But which I trod alone—nor, till bereft

  880

  Of friends, and overcome by lonely care,

  Knew I what solace for that loss was left,

  Though by a bitter wound my trusting heart was cleft.

  XXV

  Once she was dear, now she was all I had

  To love in human life—this playmate sweet,

  885

  This child of twelve years old—so she was made

  My sole associate, and her willing feet

  Wandered with mine where earth and ocean meet,

  Beyond the aëreal mountains whose vast cells

  The unreposing billows ever beat.

  890

  Through forests wide and old, and lawny dells

  Where boughs of incense droop over the emerald wells.

  XXVI

  And warm and light I felt her clasping hand

  When twined in mine: she followed where I went,

  Through the lone paths of our immortal land.

  895

  It had no waste but some memorial lent

  Which strung me to my toil—some monument

  Vital with mind: then, Cythna by my side,

  Until the bright and beaming day were spent,

  Would rest, with looks entreating to abide,

  900

  Too earnest and too sweet ever to be denied.

  XXVII

  And soon I could not have refused her—thus

  For ever, day and night, we two were ne’er

  Parted, but when brief sleep divided us:

  And when the pauses of the lulling air

  905

  Of noon beside the sea, had made a lair

  For her soothed senses, in my arms she slept,

  And I kept watch over her slumbers there,

  While, as the shifting visions o’er her swept,

  Amid her innocent rest by turns she smiled and wept.

  XXVIII

  910

  And, in the murmur of her dreams was heard

  Sometimes the name of Laon:—suddenly

  She would arise, and, like the secret bird

  Whom sunset wakens, fill the shore and sky


  With her sweet accents—a wild melody!

  915

  Hymns which my soul had woven to Freedom, strong

  The source of passion, whence they rose, to be;

  Triumphant strains, which, like a spirit’s tongue,

  To the enchanted waves that child of glory sung—

  XXIX

  Her white arms lifted through the shadowy stream

  920

  Of her loose hair—oh, excellently great

  Seemed to me then my purpose, the vast theme

  Of those impassioned songs, when Cythna sate

  Amid the calm which rapture doth create

  After its tumult, her heart vibrating,

  925

  Her spirit o’er the ocean’s floating state

  From her deep eyes far wandering, on the wing

  Of visions that were mine, beyond its utmost spring.

  XXX

  For, before Cythna loved it, had my song

  Peopled with thoughts the boundless universe,

  930

  A mighty congregation, which were strong

  Where’er they trod the darkness to disperse

  The cloud of that unutterable curse

  Which clings upon mankind:—all things became

  Slaves to my holy and heroic verse,

  935

  Earth, sea and sky, the planets, life and fame

  And fate, or whate’er else binds the world’s wondrous frame.

  XXXI

  And this beloved child thus felt the sway

  Of my conceptions, gathering like a cloud

  The very wind on which it rolls away:

  940

  Hers too were all my thoughts, ere yet, endowed

  With music and with light, their fountains flowed

  In poesy; and her still and earnest face,

  Pallid with feelings which intensely glowed

  Within, was turned on mine with speechless grace,