Lapas attēli



MADONNA, wherefore hast thou sent to me

Sweet-basil and mignonette?
Embleming love and health, which never yet

In the same wreath might be.

Alas, and they are wet!

Is it with thy kisses or thy tears?
For never rain or dew

Such fragrance drew

From plant or flower - the very doubt endears My sadness ever new,

The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed for thee.


Send the stars light, but send not love to me, In whom love ever made

Health like a heap of embers soon fade.


O MIGHTY mind, in whose deep stream this age
Shakes like a reed in the unheeding storm,
Why dost thou curb not thine own sacred rage?

To Emilia Viviani. Published i. by Mrs. Shelley, 1824; ii. 1 by Garnett, 1862; ii. 2, 3 by Forman, 1876; dated 1821.


To - Fragment of an Address to Byron, Forman. Published by Garnett, 1862, dated 1818.


[I am afraid these verses will not please you, but]

IF I esteemed you less, Envy would kill
Pleasure, and leave to Wonder and Despair
The ministration of the thoughts that fill
The mind which, like a worm whose life may share
A portion of the unapproachable,

Marks your creations rise as fast and fair
As perfect worlds at the Creator's will.

But such is my regard that nor your power
To soar above the heights where others [climb],
Nor fame, that shadow of the unborn hour
Cast from the envious future on the time,
Move one regret for his unhonored name

Who dares these words: - the worm beneath the


May lift itself in homage of the God.

Sonnet to Byron. Published, in part, by Medwin, 1832, 1847, and recomposed by aid of Boscombe MS. by Rossetti, 1870, dated 1821.

1 you, Rossetti || him, Medwin, 1832; thee, Medwin, 1847. 2, 3 Medwin 1832, 1847.

4 Rossetti || My soul which as a worm may haply share, Medwin 1832; My soul which even as a worm may share, Medwin, 1847.

5 Medwin, 1832, 1847.

6 your, Rossetti || his, Medwin, 1832; thy, Medwin, 1847.
7 Medwin, 1832, 1847.
8-11 Rossetti ||

But not the blessings of thy happier lot,
Nor thy well-won prosperity, and fame.

12-14 Medwin, 1847.

Medwin, 1847.


My head is wild with weeping for a grief
Which is the shadow of a gentle mind.
I walk into the air (but no relief

To seek, — or haply, if I sought, to find; It came unsought); - to wonder that a chief Among men's spirits should be cold and blind.



"HERE lieth One whose name was writ on water!"
But ere the breath that could erase it blew,
Death, in remorse for that fell slaughter, -
Death, the immortalizing winter, flew

Athwart the stream, and time's printless torrent


A scroll of crystal, blazoning the name
Of Adonais!


For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble In my faint eyes, and that my heart beat fast

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A Lost Leader. Dowden. Published, by Rossetti, 1870, dated 1818.

On Keats. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 18391, dated 1821. 5 printless, Boscombe MS. || monthless, Mrs. Shelley, 18391. To a Friend leaving Prison, Forman. To one freed from Prison, Dowden. Published by Garnett, 1862, dated 1817.


With feelings which make rapture pain resemble,
Yet, from thy voice that falsehood starts aghast,
I thank thee-let the tyrant keep

His chains and tears, yea let him weep
With rage to see thee freshly risen,

Like strength from slumber, from the prison,
In which he vainly hoped the soul to bind
Which on the chains must prey that fetter human-


I DREAMED that Milton's spirit rose, and took
From life's green tree his Uranian lute;

And from his touch sweet thunder flowed, and


All human things built in contempt of man, And sanguine thrones and impious altars quaked, Prisons and citadels.


MIGHTY eagle! thou that soarest
O'er the misty mountain forest,

And amid the light of morning
Like a cloud of glory hiest,
And when night descends defiest
The embattled tempests' warning!

Milton's Spirit, Forman. Published, by Rossetti, 1870, dated



Mighty Eagle" || "Mighty Eagle:" supposed to be addressed to William Godwin, Forman. Published by Forman, 1882, dated 1817.


“WHAT art thou, presumptuous, who profanest The wreath to mighty poets only due, Even whilst like a forgotten moon thou wanest ? Touch not those leaves which for the eternal few

Who wander o'er the paradise of fame,

In sacred dedication ever grew:

One of the crowd thou art without a name." “Ah, friend, 'tis the false laurel that I wear.

Bright though it seem, it is not the same As that which bound Milton's immortal hair:

Its dew is poison; and the hopes that quicken Under its chilling shade, though seeming fair, Are flowers which die almost before they sicken."


ONCE more descend The shadows of my soul upon mankind; For, to those hearts with which they never blend, Thoughts are but shadows which the flashing mind

From the swift clouds, which track its flight of fire, Casts on the gloomy world it leaves behind.

Laurel False Laurels and True, Forman. False Laurels, Dowden. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 18391, dated 1821.

"Once more descend" || Supposed to be a fragment of Otho, Forman. Published by Garnett, 1862, dated 1817.

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