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Breathe thine influence most divine
HYMN OF APOLLO
THE sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,
Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes, Waken me when their Mother, the gray Dawn, Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone.
Then I arise, and climbing Heaven's blue dome, I walk over the mountains and the waves, Leaving my robe upon the ocean foam;
My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the
Are filled with my bright presence, and the air
The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill Deceit, that loves the night and fears the
All men who do or even imagine ill
Fly me, and from the glory of my ray
Hymn of Apollo. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
I feed the clouds, the rainbows and the flowers With their ethereal colors; the moon's globe And the pure stars in their eternal bowers
Are cinctured with my power as with a robe; Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine Are portions of one power, which is mine.
I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven,
For grief that I depart they weep and frown. What look is more delightful than the smile With which I soothe them from the western isle ?
I am the eye with which the Universe
All prophecy, all medicine are mine,
HYMN OF PAN
FROM the forests and highlands
We come, we come ;
From the river-girt islands,
vi. 6 their || its, Rossetti.
Hymn of Pan. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
Where loud waves are dumb
The cicale above in the lime,
Liquid Peneus was flowing,
And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns, And the brink of the dewy caves, And all that did then attend and follow, Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo, With envy of my sweet pipings.
sang of the dancing stars,
I sang of the dædal Earth,
And of Heaven and the giant wars,
I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed. Gods and men, we are all deluded thus!
It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed.
All wept, as I think both ye now would
I DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that
(Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth) Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
The Question. Hunt, 1822 || A Dream. Harvard MS. Published by Hunt in The Literary Pocket-Book, 1822.
ii. 6 Harvard MS., Boscombe MS. || omit, Ollier MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
ii 7 Heaven's collected, Harvard MS., Ollier MS., Hunt, 1822 || heaven-collected, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-colored May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day, And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white;
And starry river buds among the sedge;
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
And bulrushes and reeds, of such deep green
Methought that of these visionary flowers
Within my hand, and then, elate and gay,