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Murmuring, Where is Doria ? Fair Milan,
Within whose veins long ran
(If Hope, and Truth, and Justice can avail)
ANTISTROPHE B g
Of cities fairest one,
Rome tears the priestly cope,
An athlete stripped to run
From a remoter station
As then Hope, Truth, and Justice did avail,
EPODE I B
the march as of the Earth-born Forms
Of crags and thunder-clouds ?
Inwrought with emblems of barbaric pride ? Dissonant threats kill Silence far
away, The serene Heaven which wraps our Eden wide
With iron light is dyed, The Anarchs of the North lead forth their legions
Like Chaos o'er creation, uncreating ; An hundred tribes nourished on strange religions And lawless slaveries, — down the aërial regions
Of the white Alps, desolating,
Famished wolves that bide no waiting, Blotting the glowing footsteps of old glory, Trampling our columned cities into dust,
Their dull and savage lust On Beauty's corse to sickness satiating They come! The fields they tread look black and
hoary With fire from their red feet the streams run
EPODE II B
Which rulest and dost move
Whose woods, rocks, waves, surround it; Who sittest in thy star, o'er Ocean's western floor;
Spirit of beauty! at whose soft command The sunbeams and the showers distil its foison
From the Earth's bosom chill;
Bid the Earth's plenty kill !
To make it ours and thine!
And raise thy sons, as o'er the prone horizon
Would not more swiftly flee,
THE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are
And the year
On the earth, her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Of the dead cold year,
Autumn. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawl
ing, The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling
For the year ;
The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each
To his dwelling;
Of the dead cold year,
DEATH is here, and death is there,
First our pleasures die - and then
Death. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
These are dead, the debt is due,
All things that we love and cherish,
THE fiery mountains answer each other,
When the clarion of the Typhoon is blown.
From a single cloud the lightning flashes,
Is bellowing underground.
But keener thy gaze than the lightning's glare, And swifter thy step than the earthquake's tramp; Thou deafenest the rage of the ocean ; thy stare Makes blind the volcanoes ; the sun's bright lamp
To thine is a fen-fire damp.
Liberty. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.