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Fled like a sunny beam;
Behind her descended
Her billows, unblended
With the brackish Dorian stream.
On the emerald main
Alpheus rushed behind,
As an eagle pursuing
A dove to its ruin
Down the streams of the cloudy wind.
Under the bowers
Where the Ocean Powers
Sit on their pearlèd thrones ;
Over heaps of unvalued stones;
Which amid the streams
Weave a network of colored light;
And under the caves,
Where the shadowy waves
Are as green as the forest's night;
And the swordfish dark,
Under the ocean foam,
And up through the rifts
Of the mountain clifts
They passed to their Dorian home.
And now from their fountains
In Enna's mountains,
Down one vale where the morning basks,
They ply their watery tasks.
From their cradles steep
In the cave of the shelving hill
Beneath the Ortygian shore,
In the azure sky
When they love but live no more.
SONG OF PROSERPINE
WHILE GATHERING FLOWERS ON THE PLAIN OF ENNA
SACRED Goddess, Mother Earth,
Thou from whose immortal bosom
If with mists of evening dew
Thou dost nourish these young flowers Till they grow, in scent and hue,
Fairest children of the hours,
Song of Proserpine, Published by Mrs. Shelley, 18391.
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
Good minds and open actions take new might,
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
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
Listening to my sweet pipings.
Liquid Peneus was flowing,
Speeded by my sweet pipings.
The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns,
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.
of the dancing stars,
I sang of the dædal Earth,
And of Heaven and the giant wars,
And Love, and Death, and Birth;-
It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed.