Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments By Frederic W. H. Myers: Edited by his Wife Eveleen Myers |
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STANZAS ON SHELLEY |
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 | Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments |  |
34
STANZAS ON SHELLEY
Oh, not like ours that life was born,
No mortal mother Shelley knew,
But kindled by some starry morn
Lit like a snow-flake from the blue;
Saw on some peak the lightnings gleam,
The lingering soft auroras play;
Then foamlike on a leaping stream
Sped downwards to the earthly day.
No mortal mother Shelley knew,
But kindled by some starry morn
Lit like a snow-flake from the blue;
Saw on some peak the lightnings gleam,
The lingering soft auroras play;
Then foamlike on a leaping stream
Sped downwards to the earthly day.
So keen a wish had winged his flight—
His heart was faint with such desire—
To bear from that supernal light
A Promethèan fount of fire:
His quivering thyrsus flashed with flame,
He sang the spell long learnt above;
With ardent eyes one only name
He named; the mountains echoed “Love!”
His heart was faint with such desire—
To bear from that supernal light
A Promethèan fount of fire:
His quivering thyrsus flashed with flame,
He sang the spell long learnt above;
With ardent eyes one only name
He named; the mountains echoed “Love!”
But ah! for men no healing wrought
That spell, that spirit's angel bloom:
Close, close about him frowned and fought
Their words of anger, looks of gloom:
Gloomed overhead the iron reign
Of stifling custom, hates that kill;
From Earth's dark places sighed in vain
Her old immedicable ill.
That spell, that spirit's angel bloom:
Close, close about him frowned and fought
Their words of anger, looks of gloom:
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Of stifling custom, hates that kill;
From Earth's dark places sighed in vain
Her old immedicable ill.
“And yet methinks one soul might know
The bliss unknown, the tale untold!
One heart might melt in mine, and so
For twain at least the age be gold!”
He called;—and ah! what mortal maid
Had heard unmoved that seraph tongue?
What Daphne lingered in her shade
When that unstained Apollo sung?
The bliss unknown, the tale untold!
One heart might melt in mine, and so
For twain at least the age be gold!”
He called;—and ah! what mortal maid
Had heard unmoved that seraph tongue?
What Daphne lingered in her shade
When that unstained Apollo sung?
But oft in vain shall love be given
When mighty spirits mourn alone;
Too rarely, rarely falls from heaven
A woman-heart to match their own:
He saw his Vision smile in sleep,
And close she seemed, and floated far;
Life-long across life's darkling deep
He chased that image of a star.
When mighty spirits mourn alone;
Too rarely, rarely falls from heaven
A woman-heart to match their own:
He saw his Vision smile in sleep,
And close she seemed, and floated far;
Life-long across life's darkling deep
He chased that image of a star.
Yet, with an Orphic whisper blent,
A Spirit in the west-wind sighs;
Gaze from the conscious firmament
Some God's unfathomable eyes:
He saw, he felt them: “Thou be mine,
As I am thine, thou primal whole!
Ye elements, my life enshrine,
Enfold, entomb me, soul in soul!”
A Spirit in the west-wind sighs;
Gaze from the conscious firmament
Some God's unfathomable eyes:
He saw, he felt them: “Thou be mine,
As I am thine, thou primal whole!
Ye elements, my life enshrine,
Enfold, entomb me, soul in soul!”
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He called; they heard him; high in air
The impetuous Winds came whirling free;
Dashed on his brow, swept through his hair
Untamed caresses of the Sea;
The Fire up-leapt in ardent birth
To her thin substance his to win;
That heart of hearts the dædal Earth,
Her own unfolding, drew therein.
The impetuous Winds came whirling free;
Dashed on his brow, swept through his hair
Untamed caresses of the Sea;
The Fire up-leapt in ardent birth
To her thin substance his to win;
That heart of hearts the dædal Earth,
Her own unfolding, drew therein.
| Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments | |