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To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight,
Go sleep like closing flowers at night,

And Heaven thy morn will bless."

On every brow in light divine

The Cross by angel hands impressed, The seal of glory won and pledge oi

promised rest.

Little they dream, those haughty souls ALL SAINTS' DAY.

Whom empires own with bended Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry

knee, wind,

What lowly fate their own controls, Now every leaf is brown and sere, Together linked by Heaven's deAnd idly droops, to thee resigned,

cree; The fading chaplet of the year? As bloodhounds hush their baying Yet wears the pure aërial sky

wild Her summer veil, half drawn on high, To wanton with some fearless child,

Of silvery haze, and dark and still So Famine waits, and War with The shadows sleep on every slanting greedy eyes, hill.

Till some repenting heart be ready for

the skies. How quiet shows the woodland

Each flower and tree, its duty done,

Think ye the spires that glow so

bright Reposing in decay serene,

In front of yonder setting sun, Like weary men when age is won, Such calm old age as conscience pure

Stand by their own unshaken might?

No- where th' upholding grace And self-commanding hearts ensure,

is won, Waiting their summons to the sky,

We dare not ask, nor Heaven would Content to live, but not afraid to die.

tell, Sure if our eyes were purged to trace

But sure from many a hidden dell, God's armies hovering

From many a rural nook unthought

of there, round, We should behold by angels' grace

Rises for that proud world the saints' The four strong winds of Heaven

prevailing prayer. fast bound, Their downward sweep a moment

On Champions blest, in Jesus' name, stayed

Short be your strife, your triumph On ocean cove and forest glade,

full, Till the last flower of autumn shed Till every heart have caught your Her funeral odors on her dying bed.


And, lightened of the world's misSo in Thine awful armory, Lord,

rule, The lightnings of the judgment-day Ye soar those elder saints to meet, Pause yet awhile, in mercy stored, Gathered long since at Jesus' feet,

Till willing hearts wear quite away No world of passions to destroy, Their earthly stains; and spotless Your prayers and struggles o'er, your shine

task all praise and joy.



1792–1822. [Percy Bysshe Shelley, eldest son of Timothy Shelley (afterwards Sir Timothy Shelley, Bart.), was born at Field Place, near Horsham in Sussex, August 4, 1792. He was educated at Eiga and at University College, Oxford; but was expelled from Oxford in 1811 on account of his authorship of a tract on The Necessity of Atheison. In the same year he married Harriet Westbrook, a girl of sixteen, daughter of a coffee-house keeper, but separated from her in 1814. His intimacy with Mary Godwin, daughter of William Godwin, author of Political Justice, and of Mary Wollstonecrafi, led to a marriage with her after his first wife's death in 1816. In 1817 he was deprived by Lord Eldon of the custody of his children by his first marriage, and in 1818 he left England for Italy, in which country he resided, mainly at Naples, Leghorn, and Pisa, till his death by drowning in the Gulf of Spezia, July 8, 1822. Queen Mab, his first work of any note, was privately printel in 1813; Alastor was published in 1816; and Laon and Cythna, published and withdrawn in 1817, was reissued as The Revolt of Islam in 1818. The Cenci and Prometheus Unbound were both published in 1820, Epipsychidion was printed, and Adonais published in 1821, and the list is ended by Hellas published in 1822, – the year of the poet's untimely death.] IANTHE SLEEPING.

Will Ianthe wake again,

And give that faithful bosom joy (Queen Mab.)

Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch How wonderful is Death,

Light, life, and rapture, from her Death and his brother, Sleep!

smile? One, pale as yonder waning moon,

With lips of lurid blue;

The other, rosy as the morn When throned on ocean's wave,

THE FAIRY AND JANTHE'S It blushes o'er the world :

SOUL. Yet both so passing wonderful !

(Queen Mab.) Hath then the gloomy Power Whose reign is in the tainted sepul- STARS! your balmiest influence chres

shed! Seized on her sinless soul;

Elements ! your wrath suspend! Must then that peerless form

Sleep, Ocean, in the rocky bounds Which love and admiration cannot That circle thy domain! view

Let not a breath be seen to stir Without a beating heart, those azure Around yon grass-grown ruin's height, veins

Let even the restless gossamer Which steal like streams along a field Sleep on the moveless air !

Soul of lanthe! thou, That lovely outline, which is fair Judged alone worthy of the envied As breathing marble, perish?

boon Must putrefaction's breath That waits the good and the sincere; Leave nothing of this heavenly

that waits sight

Those who have struggled, and with But loathsomeness and ruin?

resolute will Spare nothing but a gloomy theme, Vanquished earth's pride and meanness On which the lightest heart might

burst the chains, moralize?

The icy chains of custom, and have Or is it only a sweet slumber

shone Stealing o'er sensation,

The day-stars of their age; - Soul of Which the breath of roseate morning

Chaseth into darkness?

Awake! arise !

of snow,


Sudden arose

Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Ianthe's Soul; it stood

Then wander o'er city, and sea, and
All beautiful in naked purity,

land The perfect semblance of its bodily Touching all with thine opiate wand – frame.

Come, long-sought!
Instinct with inexpressible beauty and

When I arose and saw the dawn,
Each stain of earthliness

I sigh'd for thee;
Had passed away, it reassumed

When light rode high, and the dew was
Its native dignity, and stood

gone, Immortal amid ruin.

And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,

And the weary Day turn'd to his rest Upon the couch the body lay, Lingering like an unloved guest, Wrapt in the depth of slumber :

I sigh'd for thee!
Its features were fixed and meaningless, Thy brother Death came, and cried
Yet animal life was there,

Wouldst thou me?
And every organ yet performed
Its natural functions,' 'twas a sight Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,

Murmur'd like a noon-tide bee
Of wonder to behold the body and

Shall I nestle near thy side?
The self-same lineaments, the

Wouldst thou me? — And I replied

No, not thee! Marks of identity were there; Death will come when thou art dead, Yet, oh how different! One aspires

Soon, too soonto heaven,

Sleep will come when thou art fled; Pants for its sempiternal heritage, Of neither would I ask the boon And ever-changing, ever-rising still, I ask of thee, belovéd Night

Wantons in endless being. Swift be thine approaching flight, The other, for a time the unwilling

Come soon, soon! sport Of circumstance and passion, strug

gles on; Fleets through its sad duration rap- A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN.

idly; Then like a useless and worn-out

I DREAM'D that as I wander'd by the machine,

way Rots, perishes, and passes.

Bare Winter suddenly was changed'

to Spring, And gentle odors led my steps astray,

Mix'd with a sound of waters murTO THE NIGHT.


Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Unrer a copse, and hardly dared to Spirit of Night!

fling Out of the misty eastern cave

Its green arms round the bosom of the Where all the long and lone daylight

stream, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou Which make thee terrible and dear,

mightest in dream. Swift be thy flight!

There grew pied wind-flowers and vioWrap thy form in a mantle gray

lets, Star-inwrought!

Daisies, those pearld Arcturi of the Blind with thine hair the eyes of day,


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The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at

whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall

flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected

tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice,

it hears.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eg.

lantine, Green cow-bind and the moonlight

colord May, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups,

whose wine Was the bright dew yet drain'd not

by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine With its dark buds and leaves, wan

dering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streak'd

with gold, Fairer than



RARELY, rarely, comest thou,

Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now

Many a day and night?
Many a weary night and day
'Tis since thou art fled away.
How shall ever one like me

Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free

Thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false! thou hast forgot
All but those who need thee not.
As a lizard with the shade

Of a trembling leaf,
Thou with sorrow art dismay'd;

Even the sighs of grief
Reproach thee, that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not hear.
Let me set my mournful ditty

To a merry measure;
Thou wilt never come for pity,

Thou wilt come for pleasure;
Pity then will cut away
Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

any waken'd

And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, pur

ple prankt with white. And starry river-buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and

bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the

hedge With moonlight beams of their own

watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep

green As soothed the dazzled ye with sober


I love all that thou lovest,

Spirit of Delight !
The fresh Earth in new leaves drest

And the starry night;
Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.

Methought that of these visionary flow


I made a nosegay, bound in such a

way Chat the same hues, which in their nat

ural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like

array Kept these imprison'd children of the

Within my hand, — and then, elate

I love snow and all the forms

Of the radiant frost;
I love waves, and winds, and storms,

Everything almost
Which is Nature's, and may be
Untainted by man's misery.

I love tranquil solitude,

And such society As is quiet, wise, and good;

and gay,

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