The light of the dying day,

Speeded by my sweet pipings.

The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns,

And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,
To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
And the brink of the dewy caves,

And all that did then attend and follow
Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo,
With envy of my sweet pipings.

III.

I sang of the dancing stars,

I sang of the dædal Earth,
And of Heaven—and the giant wars,
And Love, and Death, and Birth,-

And then I changed my pipings,-
Singing how down the vale of Menalus
I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed:
Gods and men, we are all deluded thus!

It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed : All wept, as I think both ye now would, If envy or age had not frozen your blood, At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.

ΤΟ

I.

I FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiden,
Thou needest not fear mine;
My spirit is too deeply laden
Ever to burthen thine.

II.

I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion,
Thou needest not fear mine;
Innocent is the heart's devotion

With which I worship thine.

THE TWO SPIRITS: AN ALLEGORY.

FIRST SPIRIT.

O THOU, who plumed with strong desire
Wouldst float above the earth, beware!
A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire-
Night is coming!

Bright are the regions of the air,
And among the winds and beams
It were delight to wander there-
Night is coming!

SECOND SPIRIT.

The deathless stars are bright above;
If I would cross the shade of night,
Within my heart is the lamp of love,

And that is day!

And the moon will smile with gentle light On my golden plumes where'er they move; The meteors will linger round my flight, And make night day.

FIRST SPIRIT.

But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken
Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain;
See, the bounds of the air are shaken-
Night is coming!

The red swift clouds of the hurricane

Yon declining sun have overtaken,

The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain— Night is coming!

SECOND SPIRIT.

I see the light, and I hear the sound;

I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark, With the calm within and the light around Which makes night day:

30

And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark, Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound, My moon-like flight thou then mayst mark On high, far away.

Some say there is a precipice

Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice 'Mid Alpine mountains;

And that the languid storm pursuing
That winged shape, for ever flies

Round those hoar branches, aye renewing
Its aëry fountains.

Some say when nights are dry and clear,
And the death-dews sleep on the morass,
Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller,
Which make night day:

40

And a silver shape like his early love doth

pass

Upborne by her wild and glittering hair,
And when he awakes on the fragrant grass
He finds night day.

SONG.1

I.

RARELY, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!

Wherefore hast thou left me now

Many a day and night?

1 This song has hitherto been given among poems of 1821. In the Harvard College manuscript book it appears in Mrs. Shelley's writing, with the date May 1820 inserted by Shelley.-ED.

Many a weary night and day "Tis since thou art fled away.

II.

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.

III.

As a lizard with the shade

Of a trembling leaf,

Thou with sorrow art dismayed;
Even the sighs of grief

Reproach thee, that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not hear.

IV.

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.

V.

I love all that thou lovest,

Spirit of Delight!

The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed,
And the starry night; ·

Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.

VI.

I love snow, and all the forms

Of the radiant frost;

I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Every thing almost

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

VII.

I love tranquil solitude,

And such society

As is quiet, wise and good;

Between thee and me

What difference? but thou dost possess
The things I seek, not love them less.

VIII.

I love Love-though he has wings,
And like light can flee,

But above all other things,

Spirit, I love thee

Thou art love and life! O come,
Make once more my heart thy home.

SONG OF PROSERPINE,

WHILE GATHERING FLOWERS ON THE PLAIN OF ENNA.

I.

SACRED Goddess, Mother Earth,

Thou from whose immortal bosom
Gods and men and beasts have birth,
Leaf and blade and bud and blossom,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.