Obrazy na stronie

[PURGANAX, afier unsealing the GREEN These stinking foxes, these devouring BAG, is gravely about to pour the

otters, liquor upon her head, when suddenly These hares, these wolves, these anythe whole expression of her figure and

thing but men. countenance changes; she snatches it Hey, for a whipper-in! my loyal pigs, from his hand with a loud laugh of | Now let your noses be as keen as triumph, and empties it over Swell- beagles, FOOT and his whole Court, who are your steps as swist as greyhounds, and instantly changed into a number of

your cries filthy an ugly animals, and rush out More dulcet and symphonious than the of the Temple. The image of FAMINE bells Then arises with a tremendous sound, of village-towers, on sunshine holiday; the Pigs begin scrambling for the Wake all the dewy woods with jangling loaves, and are tripped up by the music. skulls; all those who eat the loaves are Give them no law (are they not beasts turned into Bulls, and arrange them

of blood ?) selves quietly behind the altar. The But such as they gave you. Tallyho ! image of FAMINE sinks through a

ho! chasm in the earth, anul a MINOTAUR Through forest, furze, and bog, and den, rises.

and desert, Minotaur. I am the Ionian Minotaur, Pursue the ugly beasts! tallyho! ho! the mightiest

Full Chorus of IonA and the SWINE. Of all Europa's taurine progeny

Tallyho! tallyho! I am the old traditional man-bull;

Through rain, hail, and snow, And from my ancestors having been Through brake, gorse, and briar, Ionian,

Through sen, flood, and mire, I am called Ion, which, by interpretation,

We go! we go! Is JOHN; in plain Theban, that is to

Tallyho! tallyho! My name's Joun BULL; I am a famous Through pond, ditch, and slough. hunter,

Wind them, and find them, And can leap any gate in all Bæotia, Like the Devil behind them, Even the palings of the royal park,

Tallyho! tallyho! Or double ditch about the new en

[Exeunt, in full cry; IONA driving closures;

on the SWINE, with the emply And if your Majesty will deign to

GREEN Bag. mount me, At least till you have hunted down your

game, I will not throw you.

NOTE ON EDIPUS TYRANNUS, Iona Taurina. (During this speech

BY MRS. SHELLEY she has been putting on boots and

In the brief journal I kept in those spurs, and a hunting cap, buck

days, I find recorded, in August 1820, ishly cocked on one side, and

Shelley“ begins Swellfoot the Tyrant, tucking up her hair, she leaps

| suggested by the pigs at the fair of San nimbly on his back.) Hoa! hoa!

Giuliano." This was the period of Queen tallyho! tallyho! ho! ho! Caroline's landing in England, and the Come, let us hunt these ugly badgers struggles made by George IV to get rid down,

of her claims; which failing, Lord Castle



reagh placed the Green Bag" on the was a man of genius, and that the world table of the House of Commons, demand will take more interest in his slightest ing in the King's name that an inquiry word than from the waters of Lethe which should be instituted into his wife's con are so eagerly prescribed as medicinal for duct. These circumstances were the all its wrongs and woes. This drama, howtheme of all conversation among the ever, must not be judged for more than English. We were then at the Baths of was meant. It is a mere plaything of the San Giuliano. A friend came to visit us | imagination; which even may not excite on the day when a fair was held in the smiles among many, who will not see wit in square beneath our windows : Shelley those combinations of thought which were read to us his Ode to Liberty; and was full of the ridiculous to the author. But, riotously accompanied by the grunting of like everything he wrote, it breathes that a quantity of pigs brought for sale to the deep sympathy for the sorrows of humanfair. He compared it to the “chorus ity, and indignation against its oppressors, of frogs" in the satiric drama of Aristo- which make it worthy of his name. phanes; and, it being an hour of merriment, and one ludicrous association sug. gesting another, he imagined a political. satirical drama on the circumstances of

EPIPSYCHIDION the day, to which the pigs would serve as chorus -and Swellfoot was begun. VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE When finished, it was transmitted to

NOBLE AND UNFORTUNATE England, printed, and published anony.

LADY, EMILIA Vmously; but stifled at the very dawn of its existence by the Society for the

NOW IMPRISONED IN THE CONSuppression of Vice, who threatened to

VENT OF prosecute it, if not immediately with L'anima amante si slancia fuori del creato, e drawn. The friend who had taken the si crea nel infinito un Mondo tutto per esse, trouble of bringing it out, of course, did | diverso assai da questo oscuro e pauroso baratro.

HER OWN WORDS. not think it worth the annoyance and expense of a contest, and it was laid My Song, I fear that thou wilt find but aside.

few Hesitation of whether it would do Who fitly shall conceive thy reasoning, honour to Shelley prevented my publish-Of such hard matter dost thou entertain ; ing it at first. But I cannot bring myself Whence, if by misadventure, chance should to keep back anything he ever wrote; for

bring each word is fraught with the peculiar | Thee to base company (as chance may do). views and sentiments which he believed Quite unaware of what thou dost contain, to be beneficial to the human race, and I prithee, comfort thy sweet self again, the bright light of poetry irradiates every My last delight! tell them that they are thought. The world has a right to the dull, entire compositions of such a man; for it | And bid them own that thou art beautiful, does not live and thrive by the outworn lesson of the dullard or the hypocrite, but by the original free thoughts of men

ADVERTISEMENT of genius, who aspire to pluck bright truth

The Writer of the following Lines died "from the pale-faced moon; at Florence, as he was preparing for a Or dive into the bottom of the deep

voyage to one of the wildest of the SporWhere fathom-line could never touch the ground

ades, which he had bought, and where he And pluck up drowned"

| had fitted up the ruins of an old building. truth. Even those who may dissent and where it was his hope to have realised from his opinions will consider that he a scheme of life, suited perhaps to that happier and better world of which he is But soft and fragrant is the faded blossom, now an inhabitant, but hardly practicable And it has no thorn left to wound thy in this. His life was singular; less on

bosom. account of the romantic vicissitudes which diversified it, than the ideal linge which it High, spirit-winged Ileart! who dost received from his own character and feel

for ever ings. The present Poem, like the Vita Beat thine unfeeling bars with vain enNuova of Dante, is sufficiently intelligible

deavour, to a certain class of readers without a | Till those bright plumes of thought, in matter-of-fact history of the circumstances

which arrayed to which it relates; and to a certain other It over-soared this low and worldly shade, class it must ever remain incomprehensible,

le Lie shattered; and thy panting, wounded from a defect of a common organ of per

breast ception for the ideas of which it treats. Not but that, gran ver gogna sarebbe a

| Stains with dear blood its unmaternal colui, che rimasse cosa sotto veste di figura,

nest! odi colore rettorico: cdomandato non sapesse I weep vain tears: blood would less denudare le sue parole da cotal veste, in

bitter be, guisa che avessero verace intendimento. Yet poured forth gladlier, could it profit The present poem appears to have been

thee. intended by the Writer as the dedication to some longer one. The stanza on the

Seraph of Heaven! too gentle to be opposite page is almost a literal translation

human, from Dante's famous Canzone

Veiling beneath that radiant form of l'oi, ch' intendendo, il terzo ciel moete, etc.

Woman The presumptuous application of the con- All that is insupportable in thee cluding lines to his own composition will of light, and love, and immortality! raise a smile at the expense of my unfor. Sweet Benediction in the eternal Curse! tunate friend : be it a smile not of con. Veiled Glory of this lampless Universe ! tempt, but pity.

Thou Moon beyond the clouds! Thou

living Form

Among the Dead! Thou Star above EPIPSYCHIDION

the Storm! Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan Thou Wonder, and thou Beauty, and

thou Terror! Whose empire is the name thou weepest | Thou Harmony of Nature's art! Thou

Mirror on, In my heart's temple I suspend to thee | In whom, as in the splendour of the Sun, These votive wreaths of withered All shapes look glorious which thou memory.

gazest on!

| Ay, even the dim words which obscure Poor captive bird! who, from thy t hee now narrow cage,

Flash, lightning - like, with unaccusPourest such music, that it might assuage

tomed glow; The rugged hearts of those who prisoned I pray thee that thou blot from this sad

thee, Were they not deaf to all sweet melody; All of its much mortality and wrong, This song shall be thy rose : its petals With those clear drops, which start like pale

sacred dew Are dead, indeed, my adored Nightin. From the twin lights thy sweet soul gale!

darkens through,



Weeping, till sorrow becomes ecstasy: A violet - shrouded grave of Woe?-1 Then smile on it, so that it may not die.


The world of fancies, seeking one like I never thought before my death to see

thee, Youth's vision thus made perfect. Emily, And find-alas! mine own infirmity. I love thee; though the world by no thin name

She met me, Stranger, upon life's Will hide that love, from its unvalued

rough way, shame.

And lured me towards sweet Death; as Would we two had been twins of the Night by Day, same mother!

Winter by Spring, or Sorrow by swift Or, that the name my heart lent toanother

Hope, Could be a sister's bond for her and thee, Led into light, life, peace. An ante. Blending two beams of one eternity! I lope, Yet were one lawful and the other true, In the suspended impulse of its lightThese names, though dear, could paint n ess, not, as is due,

Were less ethereally light: the brightness How beyond refuge I am thine. Ah me! Of her divinest presence trembles through I am not thine: I am a part of thee. Her limbs, as underneath a cloud of dew

Embodied in the windless Heaven of Sweet Lamp! my moth - like Muse

June has burnt its wings;

Amid the splendour - winged stars, the Or, like a dying swan who soars and Moon sings,

Burns, inextinguishably beautiful: Young Love should teach Time, in his And from her lips, as from a hyacinth own gray style,

full All that thou art. Ait thou not void of Of honey-dew, a liquid murmur drops, guile,

Killing the sense with passion; sweet as A lovely soul formed to be blest and bless?

Of planetary music heard in trance. A well of sealed and secret happiness, In her mild lights the starry spirits Whose waters like blithe light and music

dance, are,

The sunbeams of those wells which ever Vanquishing dissonance and gloom? A leap Star

Under the lightnings of the soul-100 Which moves not in the moving

deep Heavens, alone?

For the brief fathom-line of thought or A smile amid dark frowns ? a gentle sense. tone

The glory of her being, issuing thence, Amid rude voices ? a beloved light ? Stains the dead, blank, cold air with a A Solitude, a Refuge, a Delight ?

warm shade A Lute, which those whom Love has Of unentangled intermixture, made taught to play

By Love, of light and motion: one inMake music on, to soothe the roughest day

| Diffusion, one serene Omnipresence, And lull fond grief asleep? a buried Whose flowing outlines mingle in their treasure?

flowing A cradle of young thoughts of wingless Around her cheeks and utmost fingers pleasure;



[ocr errors]


With the unintermitted blood, which That Love makes all things equal : I there

have heard Quivers (as in a Reece of snow-like air By mine own heart this joyous truth The crimson pulse of living morning averred:

The spirit of the worm beneath the sod Continuously prolongeil, and ending in love and worship, blends itself with never,

God. Till they are lost, and in that Beauty furled

Spouse! Sister! Angel! Pilot of the Which penetrates and clasps and fills

Fate the world;

Whose course has been so starless! Oh, Scarce visible from extreme loveliness.

too late Warm fragrance seems to fall from her | Beloved! Oh, too soon adored, by me! light dress

For in the fields of immortality And her loose hair; and where some My spirit should at first have worshipped heavy tress

thine, The air of her own speed has disen. A divine presence in a place divine; twined,

| Or should have moved beside it on this The sweetness seems to satiate the faint earth, wind;

|A shadow of that substance, from its And in the soul a wild odour is felt,

birth; Beyond the sense, like fiery dews that But not as now :-- I love thee ; yes, I melt

feel Into the bosom of a frozen bud. That on the fountain of my heart a seal See where she stands ! a mortal shape Is set, to keep its waters pure and

indued With love and life and light and deity, For thee, since in those tears thou hast And motion which may change but can delight. not die;

| We-are we not formed, as notes of An image of some bright Eternity;

music are, A shadow of some golden dream; a For one another, though dissimilar; Splendour

Such difference without discord, as can Leaving the third sphere pilotless; a make tender

Those sweetest sounds, in which all Reflection of the eternal Moon of Love

spirits shake Under whose motions life's dull billows As trembling leaves in a continuous air ?

move; A Metaphor of Spring and Youth and Thy wisdom speaks in me, and bids Morning;

me dare A Vision like incarnate April, warning, Beacon the rocks on which high hearts With smiles and tears, Frost the

are wrecked. Anatomy

I never was attached to that great sect, Into his summer grave.

Whose doctrine is, that each one should

select Ah, woe is me! Out of the crowd a mistress or a friend, What have I dared ? where am I lifted? And all the rest, though fair and wise,

commend Shall I descend, and perish not? I To cold oblivion, though it is in the code know

Of modern morals, and the beaten road



« PoprzedniaDalej »