III. And, whilst that sure slow Angel which aye stands Watching the beck of Mutability Delays to execute her high commands, And, though a nation weeps, spares thine and thee, IV. O let a father's curse be on thy soul, And let a daughter's hope be on thy tomb; Be both, on thy grey head, a leaden cowl To weigh thee down to thine approaching doom! V. I curse thee by a parent's outraged love, By hopes long cherished and too lately lost, By gentle feelings thou couldst never prove, By griefs which thy stern nature never crossed; VI. By those infantine smiles of happy light, Which were a fire within a stranger's hearth, Quenched even when kindled, in untimely night, Hiding the promise of a lovely birth; VII. By those unpractised accents of young speech, VIII. By all the happy see in children's growth- IX. By all the days under an hireling's care, Sadder than orphans, yet not fatherless! X. By the false cant which on their innocent lips Must hang like poison on an opening bloom, By the dark creeds which cover with eclipse Their pathway from the cradle to the tomb XI. By thy most impious Hell, and all its terror; By all the grief, the madness, and the guilt Of thine impostures, which must be their errorThat sand on which thy crumbling power is built XII. By thy complicity with lust and hate Thy thirst for tears-thy hunger after goldThe ready frauds which ever on thee waitThe servile arts in which thou hast grown old XIII. By thy most killing sneer, and by thy smileBy all the arts and snares of thy black den, And-for thou canst outweep the crocodileBy thy false tears-those millstones braining men XIV. By all the hate which checks a father's loveBy all the scorn which kills a father's careBy those most impious hands which dared remove Nature's high bounds-by thee-and by despair XV. Yes, the despair which bids a father groan, thine; XVI. I curse thee-though I hate thee not-O slave! If thou couldst quench the earth-consuming Hell Of which thou art a dæmon, on thy grave This curse should be a blessing. Fare thee well! TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. I. THE billows on the beach are leaping around it, The bark is weak and frail, The sea looks black, and the clouds that bound it Darkly strew the gale. Come with me, thou delightful child, Come with me, though the wave is wild, And the winds are loose, we must not stay, Or the slaves of the law may rend thee away. II. They have taken thy brother and sister dear, To a blighting faith and a cause of crime III. Come thou, beloved as thou art; Near thy sweet mother's anxious heart, IV. Fear not the tyrants will rule for ever,1 V. Rest, rest, and shriek not, thou gentle child! Me and thy mother-well we know VI. This hour will in thy memory Be a dream of days forgotten long; We soon shall dwell by the azure sea 1 Compare with Rosalind and Helen, lines 894 to 901 (vol. ii, pages 265-6).—ED. Of serene and golden Italy, Or Greece, the Mother of the free; In their own language, and will mould Of Grecian lore, that by such name CANCELLED PASSAGES OF THE POEM TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. I. THE world is now our dwelling-place; Of what was great and free does keep, Mild thoughts of man's ungentle race II. This lament, The memory of thy grievous wrong Will fade But genius is Omnipotent To hallow .. ON FANNY GODWIN.1 HER Voice did quiver as we parted, 1 See vol. i, page xxxix.-ED. |