LINES

WRITTEN ON HEARING THE

NEWS OF THE DEATH OF

NAPOLEON

WHAT! alive and so bold, O Earth?
Art thou not over-bold?

What! leapest thou forth as of old
In the light of thy morning mirth,
The last of the flock of the starry fold?
Ha! leapest thou forth as of old?

Are not the limbs still when the ghost is fled,
And canst thou move, Napoleon being dead?

How! is not thy quick heart cold?

What spark is alive on thy hearth?
How! is not his death-knell knolled?
And livest thou still, Mother Earth?
Thou wert warming thy fingers old
O'er the embers covered and cold
Of that most fiery spirit, when it fled;
What, Mother, do you laugh now he is dead?

"Who has known me of old," replied Earth,
"Or who has my story told?
It is thou who art over-bold."

And the lightning of scorn laughed forth
As she sung, "To my bosom I fold

All my sons when their knell is knolled,

Lines written on hearing the News of the Death of Napoleon. Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || Written on hearing the News of the Death of Napoleon, Shelley, 1821. Published with Hellas, 1821.

ii. 8 dost thou, Rossetti.

And so with living motion all are fed,

And the quick spring like weeds out of the dead.

"Still alive and still bold," shouted Earth,
"I grow bolder, and still more bold.
The dead fill me ten thousand-fold
Fuller of speed, and splendor, and mirth.
I was cloudy, and sullen, and cold,
Like a frozen chaos uprolled,

Till by the spirit of the mighty dead
My heart grew warm.

I feed on whom I fed.

"Ay, alive and still bold," muttered Earth, Napoleon's fierce spirit rolled,

66

In terror, and blood, and gold,

A torrent of ruin to death from his birth.
Leave the millions who follow to mould
The metal before it be cold;

And weave into his shame, which like the dead
Shrouds me, the hopes that from his glory fled."

SONNET

POLITICAL GREATNESS

NOR happiness, nor majesty, nor fame,

Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts,

Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes tame; Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts,

Sonnet. Political Greatness, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || Sonnet to the Republic of Benevento, Harvard MS. Published by Mrs. Shelley,

History is but the shadow of their shame,
Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts
As to oblivion their blind millions fleet,
Staining that Heaven with obscene imagery
Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit
By force or custom? Man who man would be
Must rule the empire of himself; in it
Must be supreme, establishing his throne
On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy
Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.

A BRIDAL SONG

I

THE golden gates of sleep unbar

Where strength and beauty, met together, Kindle their image like a star

In a sea of glassy weather!
Night, with all thy stars look down ;
Darkness, weep thy holiest dew;
Never smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true.

Let eyes not see their own delight;—
Haste, swift hour, and thy flight
Oft renew.

II

Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her!
Holy stars, permit no wrong!
And return to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.

6 the

its, Harvard MS.

A Bridal Song. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.

O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun!
Come along!

EPITHALAMIUM

NIGHT, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness, shed its holiest dew!

When ever smiled the inconstant moon

On a pair so true?

Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.

BOYS

O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?

Come along!

The golden gates of sleep unbar!

When strength and beauty meet together, Kindles their image like a star

In a sea of glassy weather.

Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.

GIRLS

O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?

Come along! Epithalamium. Published by Medwin, Life of Shelley, 1847.

Fairies! sprites! and angels keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper,

Dawn, ere it be long.

Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.

BOYS AND GIRLS

O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun

Come along!

ANOTHER VERSION

BOYS SING

NIGHT! with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness! weep thy holiest dew!

Never smiled the inconstant moon

On a pair so true.

Haste, coy hour! and quench all light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Haste, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew!

GIRLS SING

Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her!
Holy stars! permit no wrong!
And return to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long!

O joy! O fear! there is not one
Of us can guess what may be done

Another Version. Published by Rossetti, 1870.