FROM THE ARABIC AN IMITATION I My faint spirit was sitting in the light It panted for thee like the hind at noon Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight, My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, II Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, SONG I RARELY, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! From the Arabic. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day "Tis since thou art fled away. II How shall ever one like me III As a lizard with the shade Of a trembling leaf, Thou with sorrow art dismayed; Even the sighs of grief Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear. IV Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure; Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. V I love all that thou lovest, Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed, And the starry night; Autumn evening, and the morn VI I love snow, and all the forms I love waves, and winds, and storms, Which is Nature's, and may be Untainted by man's misery. VII I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good; Between thee and me What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less. And like light can flee, But above all other things, Spirit, I love thee. Thou art love and life! Oh, come, Make once more my heart thy home. TO NIGHT I SWIFTLY walk o'er the western wave, Out of the misty eastern cave, Where all the long and lone daylight II Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; Kiss her until she be wearied out; III When I arose and saw the dawn, When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, To Night. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. IV Thy brother Death came, and cried, Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Shall I nestle near thy side? Death will come when thou art dead, Sleep will come when thou art fled; ΤΟ MUSIC, when soft voices die, Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on. |