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The pale purple even

Melts around thy flight;

Like a star of heaven,

In the broad day-light

Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight,

Keen as are the arrows

Of that silver sphere,
Whose intense lamp narrows

In the white dawn clear,

Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.

All the earth and air
With thy voice is loud,

As, when night is bare,

From one lonely cloud

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The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. 30

What thou art we know not;

What is most like thee?

From rainbow clouds there flow not

Drops so bright to see,

As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.

Like a poet hidden

In the light of thought,

Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world is wrought

To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:

melody on the celestial lightness and freedom in which it now expatiates. To the swift sympathetic imagination of the poet, the scorner of the ground, floating far up in the golden light, had become an aërial rapture, a dis

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embodied joy, a 'delighted spirit,' whose ethereal race had just begun. This is a representation at once profoundly poetical and profoundly true. But its force and consistency is destroyed by the so-called emendation."

Like a high-born maiden
In a palace tower,
Soothing her love-laden

Soul in secret hour

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: 45

Like a glow-worm golden

In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden.

Its aërial1 hue

Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the

view :

Like a rose embowered

In its own green leaves,

By warm winds deflowered,

Till the scent it gives

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Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged

thieves:

Sound of vernal showers

On the twinkling grass,
Rain-awakened flowers,

All that ever was

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Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass: 60

Teach us, sprite or bird,

What sweet thoughts are thine:

I have never heard 2

Praise of love or wine

That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

1 In Shelley's edition, aerial in this instance, as in some others.

2 In Shelley's edition there is an

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apparently accidental comma after heard.

Chorus Hymenæal,

Or triumphal chaunt,

Matched with thine would be all

But an empty vaunt,

A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

What objects are the fountains

Of thy happy strain?

What fields, or waves, or mountains?

What shapes of sky or plain?

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What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? 75

With thy clear keen joyance

Languor1 cannot be:

Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee:

Thou lovest; but ne'er knew 2 love's sad satiety.

Waking or asleep,

Thou of death must deem

Things more true and deep

Than we mortals dream,

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Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? 85

We look before and after,

And pine for what is not:

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. 90

1 In Shelley's edition, Langour.

2 Mr. Rossetti points out that there is a "grammatical laxity" here, but admits that "the sound of this lovely line would be so spoiled by changing the word into 'knew'st' that no rectification of grammar is permissible." Every lover of Shelley must heartily concur in this opinion; but one na

turally wonders what reason against
altering this verse was not equally
cogent against change in a precisely
similar case in Epipsychidion, where
Mr. Rossetti substitutes drew'st for
drew in the exquisite passage

Thou too, O Comet beautiful and fierce,
Who drew the heart of this frail Universe
Towards thine own.

Yet if we could scorn

Hate, and pride, and fear;

If we were things born

Not to shed a tear,

I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.

Better than all measures

Of delightful sound,

Better than all treasures

That in books are found,

Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Teach me half the gladness

That thy brain must know,

Such harmonious madness

From my lips would flow,

The world should listen then, as I am listening now.

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100

105

ODE TO LIBERTY.1

Yet, Freedom, yet thy banner torn but flying,

Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.

BYRON.

I.

A GLORIOUS people vibrated again

The lightning of the nations: Liberty

From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o'er Spain,
Scattering contagious fire into the sky,

Gleamed. My soul spurned the chains of its dismay,
And, in the rapid plumes of song,
Clothed itself, sublime and strong;

As a young eagle soars the morning clouds among,'
Hovering in verse o'er its accustomed prey;
Till from its station in the heaven of fame

This poem is assigned by Mrs. Shelley to the year 1820, to which year the events commemorated in the first stanza likewise point.

In Shelley's edition the opening lines are printed as in the text. My brother, Alfred Forman, suggests as an emendation

A glorious people vibrated again :
The lightning of the nations, Liberty,
From heart to heart, &c.

I confess that to me it seems absol-
utely certain that the text does not
give Shelley's punctuation: to say
that a people vibrated the lightning
of the nations is extremely curious,
and to talk of liberty as gleaming
from tower to tower and scattering
VOL. II.

contagious fire into the sky, unless in direct apposition to lightning, is a strained use of language. On the other hand the simple statement that a people vibrated, and that Liberty, the lightning of nations, gleamed, is at once perfectly simple and extremely grand. The rhythm is also more characteristic. I have little doubt that an error occurred by the misunderstanding of a correction on the proof-sheet: probably the colon had to be supplied in the margin, and the printer dropped it in in the wrong place. Nevertheless, I am bound to record that Mr. Rossetti, and, I am told, Mr. Swinburne, hold by the original reading.

U

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