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xLVII. Who mourns for Adonais ? oh come forth, Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright. Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth; As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might Satiate the void circumference: then shrink Even to a point within our day and night; And keep thy heart light, lest it make thee sink

When hope has kindled hope, and lured thee to the

brink.
x Lviii.

Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre,
Oh, not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought
That ages, empires, and religions, there
Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought ;
For such as he can lend, they borrow not
Glory from those who made the world their prey;
And he is gathered to the kings of thought
Who waged contention with their times' decay,

And of the past are all that cannot pass away.

x LIX. Go thou to Rome, at once the Paradise, The grave, the city, and the wilderness: And where its wrecks likeshattered mountains rise, And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access, Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowersalong the grassisspread.

L. And greywalls moulderround, on which dullTime Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand ; And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, Pavilioning the dust of him who planned This refuge for his memory, doth stand Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath A field is spread, on which a newer band Have pitched in Heaven's smile their camp of death,

Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished

breath.

LI. Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned Its charge to each ; and if the seal is set, Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,

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And so she moved under the bridal veil,
Which made the paleness of her cheek more pale,
And deepened the faint crimson of her mouth,
And darkened her dark locks, as moonlight doth,
And of the gold and jewels glittering there
She scarce felt conscious, but the weary glare
Lay like a chaos of unwelcome light,
Vexing the sense with gorgeous undelight.
As moonbeam in the shadow of a cloud
Was less heavenly fair—her face was bowed,
And as she passed, the diamonds in her hair
Were mirrored in the polished marble stair
Which led from the cathedral to the street;
And even as she went her light fair feet
Erased these images.

The bride-maidens who round her thronging came, Some with a sense of self-rebuke and shame, Envying the unenviable; and others Making the joy which should have been another's Their own by gentle sympathy; and some Sighing to think of an unhappy home; Some few admiring what can ever lure Maidens to leave the heaven serene and pure Of parents’ smiles for life's great cheat; a thing Bitter to taste, sweet in imagining.

But they are all dispersed—and lo! she stands Looking in idle grief on her white hands, Alone within the garden now her own ; And through the sunny air, with jangling tone, The music of the merry marriage-bells, Killing the azure silence, sinks and swells;– Absorbed like one within a dream who dreams That he is dreaming, until slumber seems A mockery of itself—when suddenly Antonio stood before her, pale as she. With agony, with sorrow, and with pride, He lifted his wan eyes upon the bride, And said—“Is this thy faith !” and then as one Whose sleeping face is stricken by the sun With light like a harsh voice, which bids him rise And look upon his day of life with eyes Which weep in vain that they can dream no more, Ginevra saw her lover, and forbore To shriek or faint, and checked the stifling blood Rushing upon her heart, and unsubdued Said—" Friend, if earthly violence or ill, Suspicion, doubt, or the tyrannic will

* This fragment is part of a poem which Shelley intended to write, founded on a story to be found in the first volume of a book entitled “L’Osservatore Fiorentino."

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