So in the caverns of the forest green, By summer woodmen ; and when winter's roar Hanging upon the peaked wave afar, Then saw their lamp from Laian's turret gleam, Piercing the stormy darkness like a star Which pours beyond the sea one steadfast beam, Whilst all the constellations of the sky Seemed reeling through the storm. They did but seem For, lo! the wintry clouds are all gone by, ing, And far o'er southern waves, immovably Belted Orion hangs warm light is flowing From the young moon into the sunset's chasm. "O summer eve with power divine, bestowing "On thine own bird the sweet enthusiasm Which overflows in notes of liquid gladness, Filling the sky like light! How many a spasm 58 So, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || And, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. 75 eve, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || night, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. "Of fevered brains, oppressed with grief and mad ness, Were lulled by thee, delightful nightingale ! And these soft waves, murmuring a gentle sadness, “And the far sighings of yon piny dale Made vocal by some wind we feel not here, - - "To lighten - a strange load!"-No human ear Heard this lament; but o'er the visage wan Of Athanase a ruffling atmosphere Of dark emotion, a swift shadow, ran, Beheld his mystic friend's whole being shake, And with a soft and equal pressure, pressed "Paused in yon waves her mighty horns to wet, How in those beams we walked, half resting on the sea 'Tis just one year- sure thou dost not forget "Then Plato's words of light in thee and me Lingered like moonlight in the moonless east ; For we had just then read thy memory "Is faithful now - the story of the feast; And Agathon and Diotima seemed From death and dark forgetfulness released." 'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings From slumber, as a spherèd angel's child, Shadowing its eyes with green and golden wings, Stands up before its mother bright and mild, To see it rise thus joyous from its dreams, The Loves then the shade of his own soul, half seen How many a spirit then puts on the pinions Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast, More fleet than storms—the wide world shrinks below, When winter and despondency are passed! 116 beneath, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || under, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. 'Twas at this season that Prince Athanase Passed the white Alps; those eagle-baffling moun tains Slept in their shrouds of snow; beside the ways The waterfalls were voiceless, for their fountains Were changed to mines of sunless crystal now; Or, by the curdling winds, like brazen wings Which clanged along the mountain's marble brow, Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all Catch thee, and feed from their o'erflowing bowls Thousands who thirst for thy ambrosial dew! Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls Investest it; and when the heavens are blue Its deserts and its mountains, till they wear Beauty like some bright robe; thou ever soar est Among the towers of men, and as soft air 142 Invests it: and when heavens are blue, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Investeth, Rossetti. 144 Shadows, Rossetti. In spring, which moves the unawakened forest, Clothing with leaves its branches bare and bleak, Thou floatest among men, and aye implorest That which from thee they should implore; the weak Alone kneel to thee, offering up the hearts A garment whom thou clothest not? Her hair was brown, her spherèd eyes were brown, Yet when the spirit flashed beneath, there came THE WOODMAN AND THE NIGHTINGALE A WOODMAN, whose rough heart was out of tune (I think such hearts yet never came to good), Hated to hear, under the stars or moon, One nightingale in an interfluous wood 160 flame, Boscombe MS. || frame, Mrs. Shelley, 18392. The Woodman and the Nightingale. Published, 1-67, by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, and, 68-70, by Garnett, 1862. Dated, 1818. |