That owns no master; while the loathliest ward Of this wide prison, England, is a nest

Of cradling peace built on the mountain tops,To which the eagle spirits of the free,

Which range through heaven and earth, and scorn the storm

Of time, and gaze upon the light of truth,
Return to brood on thoughts that cannot die
And cannot be repelled.

Like eaglets floating in the heaven of time,
They soar above their quarry, and shall stoop
Through palaces and temples thunderproof.

SCENE V

ARCHY

I'll go live under the ivy that overgrows the terrace, and count the tears shed on its old [roots?] as the [wind?] plays the song of

"A widow bird sate mourning
Upon a wintry bough."

(Sings)

Heigho! the lark and the owl!

One flies the morning, and one lulls the night; Only the nightingale, poor fond soul,

Sings like the fool through darkness and light.

48 no, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || a, Rossetti.

ward, Rossetti || spot, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. '

50 cradled, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.

54, 55:

Return to brood over the [ ] thoughts
That cannot die, and may not be repelled.

7 lulls flies, Forman conj.

Mrs. Shelley, 1824.

"A widow bird sate mourning for her love

Upon a wintry bough ;

The frozen wind crept on above,

The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare,

No flower upon the ground,

And little motion in the air

Except the mill-wheel's sound."

FRAGMENTS OF AN UNFINISHED DRAMA

[An Enchantress, living in one of the islands of the Indian Archipelago, saves the life of a Pirate, a man of savage but noble nature. She becomes enamoured of him; and he, inconstant to his mortal love, for a while returns her passion: but at length, recalling the memory of her whom he left, and who laments his loss, he escapes from the enchanted island, and returns to his lady. His mode of life makes him again go to sea, and the Enchantress seizes the opportunity to bring him, by a spirit-brewed tempest, back to her island.]

Scene - Before the Cavern of the Indian Enchantress. The ENCHANTRESS comes forth.

ENCHANTRESS

He came like a dream in the dawn of life,
He fled like a shadow before its noon;
He is gone, and my peace is turned to strife,
And I wander and wane like the weary moon.
O sweet Echo, wake,

And for my sake

Make answer the while my heart shall break!

But my heart has a music which Echo's lips,

Though tender and true, yet can answer not, And the shadow that moves in the soul's eclipse Can return not the kiss by his now forgot;

Fragments of an Unfinished Drama. Published, 1-69, 100-120, by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, 127-238, by Garnett (The Magic Plant), 1862, and the whole, revised and augmented, by Rossetti, 1870. Dated, 1821-22.

Sweet lips! he who hath
On my desolate path

Cast the darkness of absence, worse than death!

(The ENCHANTRESS makes her spell: she is answered by a Spirit)

SPIRIT

Within the silent centre of the earth

My mansion is; where I have lived insphered
From the beginning, and around my sleep
Have woven all the wondrous imagery

Of this dim spot, which mortals call the world;
Infinite depths of unknown elements
Massed into one impenetrable mask;
Sheets of immeasurable fire, and veins

Of gold and stone, and adamantine iron.
And as a veil in which I walk through Heaven
I have wrought mountains, seas, and waves, and

clouds,

And lastly light, whose interfusion dawns
In the dark space of interstellar air.

[A good Spirit, who watches over the Pirate's fate, leads, in a ysterious manner, the lady of his love to the Enchanted Isle. She is accompanied by a youth, who loves the lady, but whose passion she returns only with a sisterly affection. The ensuing scene takes place between them on their arrival at the Isle.]

INDIAN YOUTH and LADY

INDIAN

And, if my grief should still be dearer to me
Than all the pleasures in the world beside,
Why would you lighten it?

LADY

I offer only

That which I seek, some human sympathy

In this mysterious island.

My brain is dizzy, and I scarce know whether
I speak to thee or her.

LADY

Peace, perturbed heart!

I am to thee only as thou to mine,

The passing wind which heals the brow at noon,
And may strike cold into the breast at night,
Yet cannot linger where it soothes the most,
Or long soothe could it linger.

Loved! Oh, I love. Methinks

This word of love is fit for all the world,

And that for gentle hearts another name

Would speak of gentler thoughts than the world

owns.

I have loved.

INDIAN

And thou lovest not? if so

Young as thou art thou canst afford to weep.