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Make a green space among the silent bowers,
Like a vast fane in a metropolis,
Surrounded by the columns and the towers

All overwrought with branch-like traceries
In which there is religion- and the mute
Persuasion of unkindled melodies,

Odors and gleams and murmurs, which the lute
Of the blind pilot-spirit of the blast
Stirs as it sails, now grave and now acute,

Wakening the leaves and waves ere it has passed
To such brief unison as on the brain
One tone, which never can recur, has cast,

One accent never to return again.

The world is full of Woodmen who expel
Love's gentle Dryads from the haunt of life,
And vex the nightingales in every dell.



THOU wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be, Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim From Brutus his own glory, and on thee

Rests the full splendor of his sacred fame;

Otho. Published, i., ii., by Mrs. Shelley, 18391, iii., by Garnett, 1862. Composed, 1817.

Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant quail
Amid his cowering senate with thy name,
Though thou and he were great; it will avail
To thine own fame that Otho's should not fail.


"Twill wrong thee not-thou wouldst, if thou couldst feel,

Abjure such envious fame-great Otho died
Like thee he sanctified his country's steel,
At once the tyrant and tyrannicide,
In his own blood. A deed it was to bring
Tears from all men though full of gentle

Such pride as from impetuous love may spring,
That will not be refused its offering.


Dark is the realm of grief: but human things Those may not know who cannot weep for them.


MADDALO, a Courtier.


PIGNA, a Minister.
ALBANO, an Usher.

No access to the Duke!

You have not said

That the Count Maddalo would speak with


ii. 5 bring, Boscombe MS. || buy, Mrs. Shelley, 18391.
Tasso. Published by Garnett, 1862. Composed, 1818.


Did you inform his Grace that Signor Pigna
Waits with state papers for his signature?


The Lady Leonora cannot know

That I have written a sonnet to her fame,
In which I
Venus and Adonis.

You should not take my gold and serve me not.


In truth I told her, and she smiled and said,
I am Venus, thou, coy Poesy,


Art the Adonis whom I love, and he

The Erymanthian boar that wounded him."

Oh, trust to me, Signor Malpiglio,

Those nods and smiles were favors worth the zechin.


The words are twisted in some double sense
That I reach not; the smiles fell not on me.



How are the Duke and Duchess occupied ?


Buried in some strange talk. The Duke was leaning,

His finger on his brow, his lips unclosed.
The Princess sate within the window-seat,
And so her face was hid; but on her knee

Her hands were clasped, veinèd, and pale as snow,
And quivering young Tasso, too, was there.


Thou seest on whom from thine own worshipped


Thou drawest down smiles—they did not rain on thee.


Would they were parching lightnings for his sake

On whom they fell!



I loved-alas! our life is love;

But when we cease to breathe and move
I do suppose love ceases too.

I thought, but not as now I do,
Keen thoughts and bright of linkèd lore,
Of all that men had thought before,
And all that nature shows, and more.


And still I love and still I think,
But strangely, for my heart can drink
The dregs of such despair, and live,
And love;

And if I think, my thoughts come fast,
I mix the present with the past,
And each seems uglier than the last.

Song. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.


Sometimes I see before me flee
A silver spirit's form, like thee,
O Leonora, and I sit

still watching it,

Till by the grated casement's ledge
It fades, with such a sigh, as sedge
Breathes o'er the breezy streamlet's edge.



LET those who pine in pride or in revenge,
Or think that ill for ill should be repaid,
Or barter wrong for wrong, until the exchange
Ruins the merchants of such thriftless trade,
Visit the tower of Vado, and unlearn
Such bitter faith beside Marenghi's urn.


A massy tower yet overhangs the town,
A scattered group of ruined dwellings now.


Another scene ere wise Etruria knew

Its second ruin through internal strife, And tyrants through the breach of discord threw The chain which binds and kills. As death to life,

Marenghi, Rossetti || Mazenghi, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Published, vii.-xv., by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, i.-xxviii., by Rossetti, 1870. Composed, 1818.

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