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VII.

The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth Had crushed it on her unmaternal breast.

VIII.

I bore it to my chamber, and I planted
It in a vase full of the lightest mould;
The winter beams which out of Heaven slanted
Fell through the window-panes, disrobed of

cold,

Upon its leaves and flowers; the star which panted

In evening for the Day, whose car has rolled Over the horizon's wave, with looks of light Smiled on it from the threshold of the night.

IX.

The mitigated influences of air

And light revived the plant, and from it grew Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair, Full as a cup with the vine's burning dew, O'erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere Of vital warmth enfolded it anew, And every impulse sent to every part The unbeheld pulsations of its heart.

X.

Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong, Even if the air and sun had smiled not on it; For one wept o'er it all the winter long

Tears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon it Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song Mixed with the stringèd melodies that won it To leave the gentle lips on which it slept, Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept:

XI.

Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers

On which he wept, the while the savage storm Waked by the darkest of December's hours Was raving round the chamber hushed and

warm;

The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers, The fish were frozen in the pools, the form Of every summer plant was dead...

Whilst this.

THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER

PATIENT.1

I.

"SLEEP, sleep on! forget thy pain;
My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain,

My pity on thy heart, poor friend;
And from my fingers flow

The powers of life, and like a sign,
Seal thee from thine hour of woe,
And brood on thee, but may not blend
With thine.

II.

"Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not;
But when I think that he

Who made and makes my lot

As full of flowers as thine of weeds,

1 According to Medwin, he was the first to mesmerize Shelley as a measure of relief for some of the poet's ailments, and Jane Williams did the same later.-ED.

Might have been lost like thee,
And that a hand which was not mine
Might then have charmed his agony
As I another's-my heart bleeds

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For thine.

III.

Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of
The dead and the unborn

Forget thy life and love;

Forget that thou must wake for ever;

Forget the world's dull scorn; Forget lost health, and the divine

Feelings which died in youth's brief morn; And forget me, for I can never

Be thine.

IV.

"Like a cloud big with a May shower,
My soul weeps healing rain,
On thee, thou withered flower;
It breathes mute music on thy sleep;
Its odour calms thy brain;
Its light within thy gloomy breast
Spreads like a second youth again.
By mine thy being is to its deep
Possessed.

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"The spell is done. How feel you now?"
"Better-Quite well," replied
The sleeper. "What would do

You good when suffering and awake?
What cure your head and side ?—'

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“What would cure, that would kill me, Jane : And as I must on earth abide

Awhile, yet tempt me not to break
My chain."

LINES.

I.

WHEN the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead-
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.

II.

As music and splendour
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute,-
No song but sad dirges,

Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.

III.

When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest,-
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O, Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home and your bier?

IV.

Its passions will rock thee

As the storms rock the ravens on high:

Bright reason will mock thee,
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.

TO JANE-THE INVITATION.

BEST and brightest, come away!
Fairer far than this fair Day,
Which, like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough Year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.

The brightest hour of unborn Spring,
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn
To hoar February born;

Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,
It kissed the forehead of the Earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free,
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.

Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs-
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music lest it should not find

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