Forever hungering flocked around;

From Spain had Satan sought their food, 'Twas human woe and human blood!

XXVII

Hark! the earthquake's crash I hear,Kings turn pale, and Conquerors start, Ruffians tremble in their fear,

For their Satan doth depart.

XXVIII

This day fiends give to revelry
To celebrate their King's return,
And with delight its sire to see
Hell's adamantine limits burn.

XXIX

But were the Devil's sight as keen
As Reason's penetrating eye,
His sulphurous Majesty I ween,
Would find but little cause for joy.

XXX

For the sons of Reason see

That, ere fate consume the Pole, The false Tyrant's cheek shall be, Bloodless as his coward soul.

FRAGMENT OF A SONNET:

FAREWELL TO NORTH DEVON

Where man's profane and tainting hand
Nature's primeval loveliness has marred,
And some few souls of the high bliss debarred
Which else obey her powerful command;

mountain piles

That load in grandeur Cambria's emerald vales.

ON LEAVING LONDON FOR WALES

HAIL to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind Which from thy wilds even now methinks I feel, Chasing the clouds that roll in wrath behind, And tightening the soul's laxest nerves to steel; True mountain Liberty alone may heal The pain which Custom's obduracies bring, And he who dares in fancy even to steal One draught from Snowdon's ever sacred spring Blots out the unholiest rede of worldly witnessing.

And shall that soul, to selfish peace resigned,
So soon forget the woe its fellows share?
Can Snowdon's Lethe from the freeborn mind
So soon the page of injured penury tear?

Fragments of a Sonnet: Farewell to North Devon. Published by Dowden, Life of Shelley, 1887, dated August, 1812.

On leaving London for Wales: A Fragment. Published by Dowden, Life of Shelley, 1887, dated November, 1812.

Does this fine mass of human passion dare
To sleep, unhonoring the patriot's fall,

Or life's sweet load in quietude to bear
While millions famish even in Luxury's hall,
And Tyranny high raised stern lowers on all?

No, Cambria! never may thy matchless vales A heart so false to hope and virtue shield; Nor ever may thy spirit-breathing gales Waft freshness to the slaves who dare to yield. For me! . . . the weapon that I burn to wield I seek amid thy rocks to ruin hurled, That Reason's flag may over Freedom's field, Symbol of bloodless victory, wave unfurled, A meteor-sign of love effulgent o'er the world.

Do thou, wild Cambria, calm each struggling thought;

Cast thy sweet veil of rocks and woods between,
That by the soul to indignation wrought
Mountains and dells be mingled with the scene;
Let me forever be what I have been,
But not forever at my needy door

Let Misery linger speechless, pale and lean ;
I am the friend of the unfriended

poor,

Let me not madly stain their righteous cause in

gore.

THE WANDERING JEW'S SOLILOQUY

Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He

Who dares arrest the wheels of destiny

And plunge me in the lowest Hell of Hells?
Will not the lightning's blast destroy my frame?
Will not steel drink the blood-life where it
swells?

No-let me hie where dark Destruction dwells,
To rouse her from her deeply caverned lair,
And taunting her cursed sluggishness to ire
Light long Oblivion's death torch at its flame
And calmly mount Annihilation's pyre.

Tyrant of Earth! pale misery's jackal thou!
Are there no stores of vengeful violent fate
Within the magazines of thy fierce hate?
No poison in the clouds to bathe a brow
That lowers on thee with desperate contempt?
Where is the noonday pestilence that slew
The myriad sons of Israel's favored nation?
Where the destroying minister that flew
Pouring the fiery tide of desolation

Upon the leagued Assyrian's attempt?

Where the dark Earthquake demon who ingorged
At the dread word Korah's unconscious crew?
Or the Angel's two-edged sword of fire that
urged

Our primal parents from their bower of bliss

The Wandering Jew's Soliloquy. Published by Dobell, 1887.

(Reared by thine hand) for errors not their own By Thine omniscient mind foredoomed, foreknown? Yes! I would court a ruin such as this,

Almighty Tyrant! and give thanks to Thee— Drink deeply — drain the cup of hate — remit this I may die.