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And the plant died not in the frost ?


It grew; And went out of the lattice which I left Half open for it, trailing its quaint spires Along the garden and across the lawn, And down the slope of moss and through the

tufts Of wild-flower roots, and stumps of trees

o'ergrown With simple lichens, and old hoary stones, 200 On to the margin of the glassy pool, Even to a nook of unblown violets And lilies-of-the-valley yet unborn, Under a pine with ivy overgrown. And there its fruit lay like a sleeping lizard Under the shadows; but when Spring indeed Came to unswathe her infants, and the lilies Peeped from their bright green masks to

wonder at This shape of autumn couched in their recess, Then it dilated, and it grew until

210 One half lay floating on the fountain wave, Whose pulse, elapsed in unlike sympathies, Kept time Among the snowy water-lily buds. Its shape was such as summer melody Of the south wind in spicy vales might give To some light cloud bound from the golden

dawn To fairy isles of evening, and it seemed In hue and form that it had been a mirror Of all the hues and forms around it and 220 Upon it pictured by the sunny beams Which, from the bright vibrations of the pool,

Were thrown upon the rafters and the roof Of boughs and leaves, and on the pillared

stems Of the dark sylvan temple, and reflexions Of every infant flower and star of moss And veined leaf in the azure odorous air. And thus it lay in the Elysian calm Of its own beauty, floating on the line Which, like a film in purest space, divided 230 The heaven beneath the water from the heaven Above the clouds; and every day I went Watching its growth and wondering; And as the day grew hot, methought I saw A glassy vapour dancing on the pool, And on it little quaint and filmy shapes, With dizzy motion, wheel and rise and fall, Like clouds of gnats with perfect lineaments.

* * O friend, sleep was a veil uplift from heaven As if heaven dawned upon the world of dreamWhen darkness rose on the extinguished day Out of the eastern wilderness.


I too
Have found a moment's paradise in sleep
Half compensate a hell of waking sorrow.





Juxon. QUEEN HENRIETTA. ST.JOHN. LAUD, Archbishop of 1 ARCHY, the Court Fool. Canterbury.

HAMPDEN. WENTWORTH, Earl of РҮм. Strafford.



SIR HARRY VANE the WILLIAMS, Bishop of younger. Lincoln.


PRYNNE. Gentlemen of the Inns of Court, Citizens, Pursuivants,

Marshalsmen, Law Students, Judges, Clerk.

SCENE I. The Mask of the Inns of Court.

A PURSUIVANT. Place, for the Marshal of the Mask !

i References to the projected play on the subject of Charles I. are to be found in Shelley's letters, from February 1821 to April 1822. Mrs. Shelley says he proceeded slowly with it, and at last threw it aside for The Triumph of Life. “In my opinion,” said Alfieri, in dedicating his Agis to Charles, “ one can in no way make a tragedy of your tragical death, the cause of it not being sublime.” Perhaps that was what Shelley felt. See, however, page lviii of vol, i. -ED,

FIRST CITIZEN. What thinkest thou of this quaint mask which

turns, Like morning from the shadow of the night, The night to day, and London to a place Of peace and joy?


And Hell to Heaven. Eight years are gone, And they seem hours, since in this populous

street I trod on grass made green by summer's rain, For the red plague kept state within that palace Where now reigns vanity-in nine years more The roots will be refreshed with civil blood; 11 And thank the mercy of insulted Heaven That sin and wrongs wound as an orphan's cry The patience of the great avenger's ear.

A YOUTH. Yet, father, 'tis a happy sight to see, Beautiful, innocent, and unforbidden By God or man;—’tis like the bright procession Of skiey visions in a solemn dream From which men wake as from a paradise, And draw new strength to tread the thorns of

20 If God be good, wherefore should this be evil? And if this be not evil, dost thou not draw Unseasonable poison from the flowers Which bloom so rarely in this barren world ? O, kill these bitter thoughts which make the

present Dark as the future !

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When Avarice and Tyranny, vigilant Fear,

And open-eyed Conspiracy lie sleeping
As on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughts
Waken to worship him who giveth joys 30
With his own gift.

SECOND CITIZEN. How young art thou in this old age of time! How green in this grey world! Canst thou

discern The signs of seasons, yet perceive no hint Of change in that stage-scene in which thou art Not a spectator but an actor? or Art thou a puppet moved by [enginery]? The day that dawns in fire will die in storms, Even though the noon be calm. My travel's

done,Before the whirlwind wakes I shall have found My inn of lasting rest; but thou must still 41 Be journeying on in this inclement air. Wrap thy old cloke about thy back; Nor leave the broad and plain and beaten road, Although no flowers smile on the trodden dust, For the violet paths of pleasure. This Charles

the First Rose like the equinoctial sun,.... By vapours, through whose threatening omi

nous veil Darting his altered influence he has gained This height of noon—from which he must decline

50 Amid the darkness of conflicting storms, To dank extinction and to latest night. .. There goes the apostate Strafford; he whose titles. ..

whispered aphorisms From Machiavel and Bacon: and, if Judas Had been as brazen and as bold as he...

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