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All overwrought with branch-like traceries
Odours and gleams and murmurs, which the
lute Of the blind pilot-spirit of the blast Stirs as it sails, now grave and now acute,
Wakening the leaves and waves, ere it has
passed To such brief unison as on the brain One tone, which never can recur, has cast,
One accent never to return again.
The world is full of Woodmen who expel
FRAGMENT OF AN ADDRESS TO
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?
FRAGMENT TO SILENCE. SILENCE! O well are Death and Sleep and
Thou Three brethren named, the guardians gloomyOf one abyss, where life, and truth, and joy Are swallowed up-yet spare me, Spirit, pity
me, Until the sounds I hear become my soul, And it has left these faint and weary limbs, To track along the lapses of the air This wandering melody until it rests Among long mountains in some ...
The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses Track not the steps of him who drinks of it; For the light breezes, which for ever fleet Around its margin, heap the sand thereon.
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
FLOURISHING vine, whose kindling clusters
glow Beneath the autumnal sun, none taste of
thee; For thou dost shroud a ruin, and below
The rotting bones of dead antiquity.
SCENE FROM “TASSO."
MADDALO, a Courtier.
PIGNA, a Minister.
MADDALO. No access to the Duke! You have not said That the Count Maddalo would speak with
Venus and Adonis.
ALBANO. In truth I told her, and she smiled and said, “ If I am Venus, thou, coy Poesy
10 Art the Adonis whom I love, and he The Erymanthian boar that wounded him.” O trust to me, Signor Malpiglio, Those nods and smiles were favours worth the zechin.
MALPIGLIO. The words are twisted in some double sense That I reach not: the smiles fell not on me.
ALBANO. Buried in some strange talk. The Duke was
leaning, His finger on his brow, his lips unclosed. The Princess sate within the window-seat, 20 And so her face was hid; but on her knee Her hands were clasped, veinèd, and pale as
snow, And quivering-young Tasso, too, was there.
ped, voit on her heat, 20
MADDALO. Thou seest on whom from thine own wor
shipped heaven Thou drawest down smiles—they did not rain
MALPIGLIO. Would they were parching lightnings for his
sake On whom they fell !
I LOVED—alas! our life is love;
The dregs of such despair, and live,
LET those who pine in pride or in revenge,
Or think that ill for ill should be repaid, Or barter wrong for wrong, until the exchange Ruins the merchants of such thriftless
trade, Visit the tower of Vado, and unlearn Such bitter faith beside Marenghi's urn.
1 Mrs. Shelley says, “This fragment refers to an event, told in Sismondi's Histoire des Républiques Italiennes, which occurred during the war when Florence finally subdued Pisa, and reduced it to a province.” Pietro Marenghi is said to have been a Florentine exile, who, while Florence was trying to reduce Pisa by famine, swam to a galley that was bringing provision for Pisa and fired it in circumstances of considerable heroism. The galley was taking refuge from the enemy under the tower of Vado at the time.—ED.