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Where fond Geneura, with her flame long nurst, He felt the sharp sweetness more strengthen la Smiled upon Launcelot when he kissed her first :- Ten times than ever the spicy rains, (Feins That touch, at last, through every fibre slid; And ere they're aware, he has burst his chajas: And Paulo turned, scarce knowing what he did, He has burst his chains, and ah, ha! he's gove, Only he felt he could no more dissemble,
And the links and the gazers are left alone, And kissed her, mouth to mouth, all in a tremble. And off to the mountains the panthier's flors. Sad were those hearts, and sweet was that long kiss: Sacred be love from sight, whate'er it is.
Now what made the panther a prisoner be; The world was all forgot, the struggle o'er,
Lo! 'twas the spices and luxury.
And what set that lordly panther free?
THE PANTHER. The panther leaped to the front of his lair, And stood with a foot up, and snuffed the air; He quivered his tongue from his panting mouth, And looked with a yearning towards the south; For he scented afar in the coming breeze, News of the gums and their blossoming trees; And out of Armenia that same day, He and his race came bounding away. Over the mountains and down to the plains Like Bacchus's panthers with wine in their veins, They came where the woods wept odorous rains; And there, with a quivering, every beast Fell to his old Pamphylian feast. The people who lived not far away, Heard the roaring on that same day; And they said, as they lay in their carpeted rooms, The panthers are come, and are drinking the gums: And some of them going with swords and spears, To gather their share of the rich round tears, The panther I spoke of followed them back; And dumbly they let him tread close in the track, And lured him after them into the town; And then they let the portcullis down, And took the panther, which happened to be The largest was seen in all Pamphily.
PROLOGUE. LOVE, DISGUISED AS A SHEPHERD. Who would believe that in a human forn, And underneath these lowly shepherd's weeds, There walked a hidden God? and he no God Sylvan, or of the common crowd of beaves, But the most potent of their greatest;-ome Who many a time has made the hand of Mars Let fall his bloody sword; and looked away, From the earth-shaker Neptune, his great trident; And his old thunders from consummate Jore.
Doubtless beneath this aspect and this dress,
Therefore I hide about; and so escaping
But to keep closer still, and to prevent her
By every one there was the panther admired,
aces the king to the Nysian God."
But now came the spring, when free-born love
Yet not the more for that walk I unarmed;
Will ease thee of this little suffering.
And most delicious mouth, and with sweet humming Infixes love.
Murmured some verses that I knew not of.
Oh admirable effect! a little while,
And all the pain was gone; either by virtue
Of those enchanted words, or as I thought, into the hard heart of the cruellest nymph,
By virtue of those lips of dew, Chat ever followed on Diana's choir.
That heal whate'er they turn them to. No shallower shall it go in Sylvia's bosom,
I, who till then had never had a wish Such is the name of this fair heart of rock)
Beyond the sunny sweetness of her eyes, Chan once it went, years back, out of this hand, Or her dear dulcet words, more dulcet far nto the gentle bosom of Amyntas,
Than the soft murmur of a humming stream When every where he followed her about
Crooking its way ainong the pebble-stones, to chace and sport, young lover his young lass. Or summer airs that babble in the leaves, Ind that my point may go the deeper, I
Felt a new wish move in me to apply Vill wait awhile, till pity mollify
This mouth of mine to hers; and so becoming The blunting ice, which round about her heart Crafty and plotting, (an unusual art Cold honour has kept bound, and virgin niceness ; With me, but it was love's intelligence) ind wheresoe'er it turn to softness most,
I did bethink me of a gentle stratagem here will I lance the dart. And to perform To work out my new wit. I made pretence, so fair a work most finely, I go now
As if the bee had bitten my under lip; .o mingle with the holiday multitude
And fell to lamentations of such sort, Of flowery-crowned shepherds, who are met That the sweet medicine which I dared not ask Iard by in the accustomed place of sport,
With word of mouth, I asked for with my looks. Vhere I will feign me one of them; and there, The simple Sylvia then Cven in this place and fashion, will I strike Compassioning my pain, 1 blow invisible to mortal eye.
Offered to give her help
To that pretended wound; After new fashion shall these woods to day
And oh! the real and the mortal wound, Tear love discoursed; and it shall well be seen
Which pierced into my being, That my divinity is present here
When her lips came on mine. n its own person, not its ministers.
Never did bee from flower will inbreathe high fancies in rude hearts;
Suck sugar so divine, will refine, and render dulcet sweet,
As was the honey that I gathered then
I could have bathed in them my burning kisses, There am I Love; and inequality,
But fear and shame withheld As it may please me, do I equalize;
That too audacious fire, And 'tis my crowning glory and great miracle
And made them gently hang. To make the rural pipe as eloquent
But while into my bosom's core, the sweetness, Even as the subtlest harp. If my proud mother, Mixed with a secret poison, did go down, Who scorns to have me roving in the woods,
It pierced me so with pleasure, that still feigning
From that time forth, desire
That not being able to contain it more,
While in a circle a whole set of us,
Shepherds and nymphs, sat playing at the game, Gathering his honey in those flowery fields, In which they tell in one another's ears Lit on the cheeks of Phillis, cheeks as red
Their secret each, “ Sylvia,” said I in her's, As the red rose; and bit, and bit again
“ I burn for thee; and if thou help me not, With so much eagerness, that it appeared
I feel I cannot live.” As I said this, The likeness did beguile him. Phillis, at this, She dropt her lovely looks, and out of them Impatient of the smart, sent up a cry; [grieve; There came a sudden and unusual flush, * Hush! Hush !” said my sweet Sylvia,“ do not Portending shame and anger: not an answer I have a few words of enchantment, Phillis, Did she vouchsafe me, but by a dead silence,
AMYNTAS DECLARES HOW HIS LOVE FOR SYLVIA
Broken at last by threats more terrible.
Then among streams and flowers She parted then, and would not hear me more, The little winged Powers Nor see me. And now three times the naked reaper Went singing carols without torch or bow: Has clipped the spiky harvest, and as often The nymphs and shepherds sat The winter shaken down from the fair woods Mingling with innocent chat Their tresses green, since I have tried in vain Sports and low whispers; and with whispers ka Every thing to appease her, except death.
Kisses that would not go. Nothing remains indeed but that I die !
The maiden, budding o'er, And I shall die with pleasure, being certain
Kept not her bloom uneyed,
Which now a veil must hide,
And oftentimes, in river or in lake,
'Twas thou, thou, Honour, first And trouble that fair bosom, built of bliss.
That didst deny our thirst
Thou bad'st kind eyes withdraw
Into constrained awe,
And keep the secret for their tears to wet:
The tresses from the air,
And mad'st the sports and plays
And put'st on speech a rein, in steps a care.
Thy work it is,-thou shade that wilt not more.Or that the heaven which burns,
That what was once the gift, is now the theti af And now is cold by turns,
Our sorrows and our pains,
[war: But oh, thou Love's and Nature's masterer, And breath-invented pain,
Thou conq’ror of the crowned, That idol of mistakes, that worshipped cheat, What dost thou on this ground, That Honour,since so called
Too small a circle for thy mighty sphere? By vulgar minds appalled,
Go and make slumber dear Played not the tyrant with our nature yet.
To the renowned and high: It had not come to fret
We here, a lowly race, The sweet and happy fold
Can live without thy grace, Of gentle human-kind;
After the use of mild antiquity.
Go; let us love; since years
Dies once for all; and sleep brings on eternal night
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
FROM ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRIT OF
SOLITUDE. There was a poet, whose untimely tomb No human hands with pious reverence reared, But the charmed eddies of autumnal winds Built o'er his mouldering bones a pyramid Of mouldering leaves in the waste wilderness : A lovely youth,—no mourning maiden decked With weeping flowers, or white cypress wreath, The lone couch of his everlasting sleep:Gentle, and brave, and generous,-no lorn bard Breathed o'er his dark fate one melodious sigh: He lived, he died, he sang, in solitude. Strangers have wept to hear his passionate notes, And virgins, as unknown he past, have pined And wasted for fond love of his wild eyes. The fire of those orbs has ceased to burn, And silence, too enamoured of that voice, Locks its mute music in her rugged cell.
By solemn vision, and bright silver dream,
Lured by the gentle meaning of his looks;
His wandering step,
THE DEDICATION OF THE REVOLT
So now my summer task is ended, Mary,
The toil which stole from thee so many an hour
Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear friend, Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the when first
power, The clouds which wrap this world from youth did Which says:- let scorn be not repaid with scorn. I do remember well the hour which burst
And from thy side two gentle babes are born My spirit's sleep: a fresh Maydawn it was,
To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,
Most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn;
And these delights, and thou, have been to me
Is it that now my inexperienced fingers
But strike the prelude to a loftier strain?
And charm the minds of men to Truth's own sway,
Reply in hope--but I am worn away,
(prey. Such power; for I grow weary to behold
And death and love are yet contending for their
And what art thou; I know, but dare not speak:
Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,
And in the light thine ample forehead wears, And from that hour did I with earnest thought And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears, Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore;
And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught
Is whispered to subdue my fondest fears: I cared to learn, but from that secret store
And through thine eyes, even thy soul I see
A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.
Of glorious parents, thou aspiring child.
I wonder not for one then left this earth
Whose life was like a setting planet mild, Alas, that love should be a blight and snare
Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled To those who seek all sympathies in one!
Of its departing glory; still her fame Such once I sought in vain; then black despair,
Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim
The shelter from thy sire, of an immortal name.
And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it,
As some lone man, who in a desart hears Thou friend, whose presence on my wintery heart The music of his home :-unwonted fears Fell like bright spring upon some herbless plain; Fell on the pale oppressors of our race, How beautiful and calm and free thou wert
And faith and custom and low-thoughted cares, In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain
Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space (place
. Of custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,
Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling And walked as free as light the clouds among,
Truth's deathless voice pauses among
mankind Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain
If there must be no response to my cry From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung
If men must rise and stamp with fury blind To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long.
On his pure name who loves them,-thou and I, No more alone through the world's wilderness, Sweet friend! can look from our tranquillity Although I trod the paths of high intent,
Like lamps into the world's tempestuous night,-I journeyed now: no more companionless,
Two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing by, Where solitude is like despair, I went.-
Which wrap them from the foundering seaman's
FROM THE REVOLT OF ISLAM.
It was a temple, such as mortal hand Now has descended a serener hour,
Has never built, nor ecstacy, nor dream And with inconstant fortune friends return;
Reared in the cities of enchanted land: