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Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
WRITTEN OCTOBER, 1819, BEFORE THE SPANIARDS HAD RECOVERED THEIR LIBERTY
ARISE, arise, arise!
There is blood on the earth that denies ye bread! Be your wounds like eyes
To weep for the dead, the dead, the dead. What other grief were it just to pay? Your sons, your wives, your brethren, were they! Who said they were slain on the battle-day?
Awaken, awaken, awaken!
The slave and the tyrant are twin-born foes.
An Ode written October, 1819, before the Spaniards had recovered their Liberty, Shelley, 1820 || An Ode to the Assertors of Liberty, Mrs. Shelley, 18391. Published with Prometheus Unbound, 1820.
Be the cold chains shaken
To the dust where your kindred repose, repose.
Wave, wave high the banner,
Be Famine and Toil, giving sigh for sigh.
Glory, glory, glory,
To those who have greatly suffered and done! Never name in story
Was greater than that which ye shall have won. Conquerors have conquered their foes alone,
Whose revenge, pride, and power, they have over
Ride ye, more victorious, over your own.
Bind, bind every brow
With crownals of violet, ivy, and pine!
With hues which sweet nature has made di-
ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI
IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY
Ir lieth, gazing on the midnight sky,
Its horror and its beauty are divine.
Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, The agonies of anguish and of death.
Yet it is less the horror than the grace
Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone, Whereon the lineaments of that dead face
Are graven, till the characters be grown Into itself, and thought no more can trace;
'Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, Which humanize and harmonize the strain.
And from its head as from one body grow,
On the Medusa of Leonardo Da Vinci in the Florentine Gallery. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Composed at Florence. ii. 6 hues, Rossetti.
And with unending involutions show
Their mailed radiance, as it were to mock The torture and the death within, and saw The solid air with many a ragged jaw.
And, from a stone beside, a poisonous eft
Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise
'Tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror; For from the serpents gleams a brazen glare Kindled by that inextricable error,
Which makes a thrilling vapor of the air Become a and ever-shifting mirror Of all the beauty and the terror there A woman's countenance, with serpent locks, Gazing in death on heaven from those wet
THE INDIAN SERENADE
I ARISE from dreams of thee
The wandering airs, they faint
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
MS. || Song
The Indian Serenade, Browning MS., Harvard written for an Indian Air, The Liberal, ii., 1822. Indian Air, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Published in The Liberal, ii., 1822.
i. 2 In || From, Copy of Browning MS.
3 When, omit, Harvard MS.
4 shining || burning, Harvard MS., The Liberal, 1822.
7 Hath led, Browning MS., The Liberal, 1822 || Has borne, Harvard MS.; has led, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
ii. 3 The champak odors fail, Harvard MS., The Liberal, 1822, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || And the champak's, Browning MS. And the champak, Dowden. And the champak odors pine, Allingham. odors of my chaplet, Boscombe MS.