Lo! the sun upsprings behind, And before that chasm of light, 65 As within a furnace bright, Column, tower, and dome, and spire, Shine like obelisks of fire, Pointing with inconstant motion 70 From the altar of dark ocean From the marble shrines did rise, Sun-girt City! thou hast been A less drear ruin then than now, Lest thy dead should, from their sleep 100 Lead a rapid masque of death Noon descends around me now: Mingling light and fragrance, far And the plains that silent lie Underneath; the leaves unsodden Where the infant Frost has trodden With his morning-winged feet Whose bright print is gleaming yet; And the Alps, whose snows are spread 105 110 115 120 125 High between the clouds and sun; And of living things each one; And my spirit, which so long Darken'd this swift stream of song,— 130 Interpenetrated lie By the glory of the sky; Be it love, light, harmony, Odour, or the soul of all Which from Heaven like dew doth fall, 135 Or the mind which feeds this verse Peopling the lone universe. Noon descends, and after noon Autumn's evening meets me soon. Leading the infantine moon 140 145 The frail bark of this lone being), 150 Pass, to other sufferers fleeing, Other flowering isles must be O'er that gulf: even now, perhaps, To some calm and blooming cove, 155 160 165 And soft sunshine, and the sound And the light and smell divine Of all flowers that breathe and shine. 170 That the Spirits of the Air The polluting multitude But their rage would be subdued 175 By that clime divine and calm, And the winds whose wings rain balm Under which the bright sea heaves; In their whisperings musical 180 The inspired soul supplies With its own deep melodies ; And the love which heals all strife 185 All things in that sweet abode They, not it, would change; and soon And the earth grow young again. 190 P. B. SHELLEY. 275 ODE TO THE WEST WIND (1) O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, The wingéd seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill : Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and Preserver; hear, oh, hear! 5 10 (2) Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's com motion, 15 Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the dying year, to which this closing night 20 25 Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere (3) Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers 30 35 So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear! 40 |