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“ Is faithful now the story of the feast ;
'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings From slumber, as a sphered 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,
in the warm sun did start and move, And sea-buds burst beneath the waves serene. How many a one, though none be near to love,
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 The strong have broken ; yet where shall any seek
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
180 flame, Boscombe MS. II frame, Mrs. Shelley, 18392.
The Woodman and the Nightingale. Published, 1-67, by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, and, 68–70, by Garnett, 1862. Dated, 1818.
Or as the moonlight fills the open sky
Like clouds above the flower from which they
rose, The singing of that happy nightingale In this sweet forest, from the golden close
Of evening till the star of dawn may fail,
Heard her within their slumbers, the abyss
Of the circumfluous waters ; every sphere
And every beast stretched in its rugged cave,
Which is its cradle; ever from below
Of one serene and unapproached star,
Itself how low, how high beyond all height
Was awed into delight, and by the charm
Of sound, shook forth the dull oblivion
And so this man returned with axe and saw
Was each a wood-nymph, and kept ever green
With jagged leaves, and from the forest tops
Into their mother's bosom, sweet and soft,
tears which have no bitterness ; Around the cradles of the birds aloft
They spread themselves into the loveliness
49 their || her, Rossetti.