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FRAGMENT: 'UNRISEN SPLENDOUR OF THE

BRIGHTEST SUN'

[Published by Dr. Garnett, Relics of Shelley, 1862.] UNRISEN splendour of the brightest sun,

To rise upon our darkness, if the star

Now beckoning thee out of thy misty throne

Could thaw the clouds which wage an obscure war
With thy young brightness!

FRAGMENT: PATER OMNIPOTENS

[Edited from MS. Shelley E 4 in the Bodleian Library, and published by Mr. C. D. Locock, Examination, &c., Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1903. Here placed conjecturally amongst the compositions of 1820, but of uncertain date, and belonging possibly to 1819 or a still earlier year.]

SERENE in his unconquerable might

Endued[,] the Almighty King, his steadfast throne
Encompassed unapproachably with power
And darkness and deep solitude and awe
Stood like a black cloud on some aëry cliff
Embosoming its lightning-in his sight
Unnumbered glorious spirits trembling stood
Like slaves before their Lord-prostrate around
Heaven's multitudes hymned everlasting praise.

FRAGMENT: TO THE MIND OF MAN
[Edited, published and here placed as the preceding.]
THOU living light that in thy rainbow hues
Clothest this naked world; and over Sea
And Earth and air, and all the shapes that be
In peopled darkness of this wondrous world
The Spirit of thy glory dost diffuse

truth

thou Vital Flame

Mysterious thought that in this mortal frame Of things, with unextinguished lustre burnest

Now pale and faint now high to Heaven upcurled

That eer as thou dost languish still returnest

And ever

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So soon as from the Earth formless and rude
One living step had chased drear Solitude

Thou wert, Thought; thy brightness charmed the lids
Of the vast snake Eternity, who kept

The tree of good and evil.—

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NOTE ON POEMS OF 1820, BY MRS. SHELLEY WE spent the latter part of the year accomplishments, and charming from 1819 in Florence, where Shelley passed her frank and affectionate nature. She several hours daily in the Gallery, and had the most intense love of knowmade various notes on its ancient works ledge, a delicate and trembling sensiof art. His thoughts were a good deal bility, and preserved freshness of mind taken up also by the project of a after a life of considerable adversity. steamboat, undertaken by a friend, an As a favourite friend of my father, we engineer, to ply between Leghorn and had sought her with eagerness; and Marseilles, for which he supplied a sum the most open and cordial friendship of money. This was a sort of plan to was established between us. delight Shelley, and he was greatly disappointed when it was thrown aside.

Our stay at the Baths of San Giuliano was shortened by an accident. At the foot of our garden ran the canal that communicated between the Serchio and the Arno. The Serchio overflowed its banks, and, breaking its bounds, this canal also overflowed; all this part of the country is below the level of its rivers, and the consequence was that it was speedily flooded. The rising waters filled the Square of the Baths, in the lower part of which our house was

There was something in Florence that disagreed excessively with his health, and he suffered far more pain than usual; so much so that we left it sooner than we intended, and removed to Pisa, where we had some friends, and, above all, where we could consult the celebrated Vaccà as to the cause of Shelley's sufferings. He, like every other medical man, could only guess at that, and gave little hope of immediate relief; he en-situated. The canal overflowed in the joined him to abstain from all physicians and medicine, and to leave his complaint to Nature. As he had vainly consulted medical men of the highest repute in England, he was easily persuaded to adopt this advice. Pain and ill-health followed him to the end; but the residence at Pisa agreed with him better than any other, and there in consequence we remained.

garden behind; the rising waters on either side at last burst open the doors, and, meeting in the house, rose to the height of six feet. It was a picturesque sight at night to see the peasants driving the cattle from the plains below to the hills above the Baths. A fire was kept up to guide them across the ford; and the forms of the men and the animals showed in dark relief against the red glare of the flame, which was reflected again in the waters that filled the Square.

In the Spring we spent a week or two near Leghorn, borrowing the house of some friends who were absent on a journey to England. It was on a We then removed to Pisa, and took beautiful summer evening, while wan-up our abode there for the winter. The dering among the lanes whose myrtle- extreme mildness of the climate suited hedges were the bowers of the fire-flies, Shelley, and his solitude was enlivened that we heard the carolling of the sky- by an intercourse with several intimate lark which inspired one of the most friends. Chance cast us strangely enough beautiful of his poems. He addressed on this quiet half-unpeopled town; but the letter to Mrs. Gisborne from this its very peace suited Shelley. Its river, house, which was hers: he had made the near mountains, and not distant sea, his study of the workshop of her son, added to its attractions, and were the who was an engineer. Mrs. Gisborne objects of many delightful excursions. had been a friend of my father in her We feared the south of Italy, and a younger days. She was a lady of great hotter climate, on account of our child;

passionately fond of travelling. But human life, besides its great unalterable necessities, is ruled by a thousand lilliputian ties that shackle at the time, although it is difficult to account afterwards for their influence over our

our former bereavement inspiring us
with terror. We seemed to take root
here, and moved little afterwards; often,
indeed, entertaining projects for visit-
ing other parts of Italy, but still delay-
ing. But for our fears on account of
our child, I believe we should have destiny.
wandered over the world, both being

POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821

DIRGE FOR THE YEAR

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824, and dated
January 1, 1821.]

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[Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824. in the Harvard MS. Book.]

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II

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Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and
Touching all with
and

and

Swift be thy flight!

land,

wand

thine opiate

Come, long-sought!

To Night- o'er Harvard MS.; over edd. 1824, 1839.

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[Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824.]
UNFATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years,
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe
Are brackish with the salt of human tears!
Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow
Claspest the limits of mortality,

And sick of prey, yet howling on for more,
Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore;
Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm,
Who shall put forth on thee,
Unfathomable Sea?

LINES

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824.]

I

FAR, far away, O ye
Halcyons of Memory,
Seek some far calmer nest
Than this abandoned breast!
No news of your false spring
To my heart's winter bring,
Once having gone, in vain
Ye come again.

II

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Vultures, who build your bowers High in the Future's towers, Withered hopes on hopes hopes are spread!

5 Dying joys, choked by the dead, Will serve your beaks for prey Many a day.

FROM THE ARABIC: AN IMITATION

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824. There is an intermediate draft amongst the Bodleian MSS. See Locock, Examination, &c., 1903, p. 13.]

I

My faint spirit was sitting in the light

Of thy looks, my love;

It panted for thee like the hind at noon
For the brooks, my love.

Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight
Bore thee far from me

My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,

Did companion thee.

II

Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed.

Or the death they bear,

The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove
With the wings of care;

In the battle, in the darkness, in the need,

Shall mine cling to thee,

Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love,
It may bring to thee.

TO EMILIA VIVIANI

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[Published, i. by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824; ii. 1 by Dr. Garnett, Relics of Shelley, 1862; ii. 2, 3 by H. Buxton Forman, P. W. of P. B. S., 1876.]

I

MADONNA, wherefore hast thou sent to me
Sweet-basil and mignonette?

Embleming love and health, which never yet
In the same wreath might be.

Alas, and they are wet!

Is it with thy kisses or thy tears?

For never rain or dew

Such fragrance drew

From plant or flower-the very doubt endears

My sadness ever new,

The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed for thee.

II

Send the stars light, but send not love to me,
In whom love ever made

Health like a heap of embers soon to fade-

THE FUGITIVES

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824.]

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