Under the quick, faint kisses of the sea 550 555 560 565 The soul that burns between them, and the wells Which boil under our being's inmost cells, The fountains of our deepest life, shall be 570 Confused in Passion's golden purity, As mountain-springs under the morning sun. We shall become the same, we shall be one Spirit within two frames, oh! wherefore two? One passion in twin-hearts, which grows and grew, 575 Those spheres instinct with it become the same, In one another's substance finding food, 580 585 The winged words on which my soul would pierce Into the height of Love's rare Universe, Are chains of lead around its flight of fire- 590 Weak Verses, go, kneel at your Sovereign's feet, 595 Then haste But its reward is in the world divine And bid them love each other and be blessed : And leave the troop which errs, and which reproves, FRAGMENTS CONNECTED WITH EPIPSYCHIDION 600 [Of the fragments of verse that follow, lines 1-37, 62-92 were printed by Mrs. Shelley in P. W., 1839, 2nd edition; lines 1-174 were printed or reprinted by Dr. Garnett in Relics of Shelley, 1862; and lines 175-186 were printed by Mr. C. D. Locock from the first draft of Epipsychidion amongst the Shelley MSS. in the Bodleian Library. See Examination, &c., 1903, pp. 12, 13. The three early drafts of the Preface (Advertisement) were printed by Mr. Locock in the same volume, pp. 4, 5.] THREE EARLY DRAFTS OF THE PREFACE (ADVERTISEMENT) The following Poem was found amongst other papers in the Portfolio of a young Englishman with whom the Editor had contracted an intimacy at Florence, brief indeed, but sufficiently long to render the Catastrophe by which it terminated one of the most painful events of his life.— The literary merit of the Poem in question may not be considerable; but worse verses are printed every day, & He was an accomplished & amiable person but his error was, θνητος ών μη θνητα φρονειν,—his fate is an additional proof that The tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.'-He had framed to himself certain opinions, founded no doubt upon the truth of things, but built up to a Babel height; they fell by their own weight, & the thoughts that were his ar chitects, became unintelligible one to the other, as men upon whom confusion of tongues has fallen. [These] verses seem to have been written as a sort of dedication of some work to have been presented to the person whom they address: but his papers afford no trace of such a workThe circumstances to which [they] the poem allude, may easily be understood by those to whom [the] spirit of the poem itself is [unintelligible: a detail of facts, sufficiently romantic in [themselves but] their combinations The melancholy [task] charge of consigning the body of my poor friend to the grave, was committed to me by his desolated family. I caused him to be buried in a spot selected by himself, & on the h [Epips] PREFACE II T. E. V. Epipsych [The following Poem was found in the PF. of a young Englishman, who died on his passage from Leghorn to the Levant. He had bought one of the Sporades] He was accompanied by a lady [who might have been] supposed to be his wife, & an effeminate looking youth, to whom he shewed an [attachment] so [singular] excessive an attachment as to give rise to the suspicion, that she was a woman-At his death this suspicion was confirmed; object speedily found a refuge both from the taunts of the brute multitude, and from the of her grief in the same grave that contained her lover. He had bought one of the Sporades, & fitted up a Saracenic castle which accident had preserved in some repair with simple elegance, & it was his intention to dedicate the remainder of his life to undisturbed intercourse with his companions These verses apparently were intended as a dedication of a longer poem or series of poems PREFACE III The writer of these lines died at Florence in [January 1820] while he was preparing ** for one wildest of the of the Sporades, where he bought & fitted up the ruins of some old building-His life was singular, less on account of the romantic vicissitudes which diversified it, than the ideal tinge which they received from his own character & feelings The verses were apparently intended by the writer to accompany some longer poem or collection of poems, of which there* [are no remnants in his] * * * remains [in his] portfolio. The editor is induced to The present poem, like the vita Nova of Dante, is sufficiently intelligible to a certain class of readers without a matter of fact history of the circumstances to which it relate, & to a certain other class, it must & ought ever to remain incomprehensible-It was evidently intended to be prefixed to a longer poem or series of poems --but among his papers there are no traces of such a collection. PASSAGES OF THE POEM, OR CONNECTED Here, my dear friend, is a new book for you; To other friends, one female and one male,- And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread Free love has this, different from gold and clay, Like ocean, which the general north wind breaks If I were one whom the loud world held wise, 15 20 25 30 35 I love you!-Listen, O embodied Ray Of the great Brightness; I must pass away While you remain, and these light words must be 40 Start not-the thing you are is unbetrayed, If you are human, and if but the shade Others with a And as to friend or mistress, 'tis a form; Hint that, though not my wife, you are a woman; more inhuman What is the colour of your eyes and hair? Why, if you were a lady, it were fair The world should know-but, as I am afraid, And if, as it will be sport to see them stumble 45 50 55 Like that sweet marble monster of both sexes, Which lifted from her limbs the veil of stone. It is a sweet thing, friendship, a dear balm, Which moves not 'mid the moving heavens alone 'Mid dissonance and gloom-a star A smile among dark frowns-a gentle tone Among rude voices, a beloved light, 60 65 70 75 A solitude, a refuge, a delight. If I had but a friend! Why, I have three Why should they be? My muse has lost her wings, I should describe you in heroic style, But as it is, are you not void of guile? A lovely soul, formed to be blessed and bless : A well of sealed and secret_happiness; A lute which those whom Love has taught to play To the oblivion whither I and thou, With steps, ah, too unequal! may we meet If any should be curious to discover Whether to you I am a friend or lover, Let them read Shakespeare's sonnets, taking thence That tears and will not cut, or let them guess Instructed the instructor, and why he Rebuked the infant spirit of melody |