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, AN ODE WRITTEN OCTOBER, 1819, BEFORE THE SPANIARDS HAD RECOVERED THEIR LIBERTY ARISE, arise, arise! There is blood on the earth that denies ye Be your wounds like eyes To weep for the dead, the dead, the dead. What other grief were it just to pay? bread! 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, When Freedom is riding to conquest by! 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 overthrown. Ride ye, more victorious, over your own. Bind, bind every brow With crownals of violet, ivy, and pine! Hide the blood-stains now With hues which sweet nature has made di vine Green strength, azure hope, and eternity; But let not the pansy among them be ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY I Ir lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, II Yet it is less the horror than the grace Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone, III 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. IV And, from a stone beside, a poisonous eft Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise Out of the cave this hideous light had cleft, And he comes hastening like a moth that hies After a taper; and the midnight sky Flares, a light more dread than obscurity. '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 rocks. THE INDIAN SERENADE I I ARISE from dreams of thee Hath led me - who knows how? II The wandering airs, they faint Like sweet thoughts in a dream ; It dies upon her heart, MS. || Song Lines to an 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. |