With Shelley in Italy : being a selection of the poems and letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which have to do with his life in Italy from 1818 to 1822 . globeIn liquid sleep and splendour, as a all their many-mingled influence blend,If equal, yet unlike, to one sweet end; —So ye, bright regents, with alternate swayGovern my sphere of being, night and day !Thou, not disdaining even a borrowed might;Thou, not eclipsing a remoter light;And, through the shadow of the seasons Spring to Autumns sere it into the Winter of the it may ripen to a brighter bloo
With Shelley in Italy : being a selection of the poems and letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which have to do with his life in Italy from 1818 to 1822 . globeIn liquid sleep and splendour, as a all their many-mingled influence blend,If equal, yet unlike, to one sweet end; —So ye, bright regents, with alternate swayGovern my sphere of being, night and day !Thou, not disdaining even a borrowed might;Thou, not eclipsing a remoter light;And, through the shadow of the seasons Spring to Autumns sere it into the Winter of the it may ripen to a brighter bloom!Thou too, O Comet beautiful and drew the heart of this frail UniverseTowards thine own; till, wrecked in that convulsion,Alternating attraction and repulsion,Thine went astray and that was rent in twain;Oh, float into our azure heaven again!Be there loves folding-star at thy return;The living Sun will feed thee from its urnOf golden fire ; the Moon will veil her hornIn thy last smiles; adoring Even and MornWill worship thee with incense of calm breathAnd lights and shadows ; as the star of Death[ 218 J N JIOBE. In rilizi All worldly thouf/hts and cares seem to vanish fromfore the sublime emotions such spectachs create. — See Letter from Florence, p. 243. THE YEARS 1820 AND 1821 And Birth is worshipped bj those sisters wildCalled Hope and Fear — upon the heart are piledTheir offerings, — of this sacrifice divineA World shall be the altar. Lady mine,Scorn not these flowers of thought, the fading birthWhich from its heart of hearts that plant puts forthWhose fruit, made perfect by thy sunny eyes,Will be as of the trees of day is come, and thou wilt fly with me !To whatsoever of dull mortalityIs mine, remain a vestal sister still ;To the intense, the deep, the imperishable,Not mine but me, henceforth be thou unitedEven as a bride, delighting and hour is come : — the destined star has risenWhich shall descend upon a vacant
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