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 . Oh, vain endeavour ! If on his own high will, a willing has enthroned the oppression and the if earth can clothe and feedAmplest millions at their power in thought be as the tree within the seed ?Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor, Driving on fiery wings to Natures the great mother stooping to caress her,And cries : Give me, thy child, dominionOver all height and depth ? if Life can breed New wan
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 . Oh, vain endeavour ! If on his own high will, a willing has enthroned the oppression and the if earth can clothe and feedAmplest millions at their power in thought be as the tree within the seed ?Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor, Driving on fiery wings to Natures the great mother stooping to caress her,And cries : Give me, thy child, dominionOver all height and depth ? if Life can breed New wants, and Wealth, from those who toil and groanRend, of thy gifts and hers, a thousand-fold for one ? XVIII Come Thou ! but lead out of the inmost cave Of mans deep spirit, as the morning-starBeckons the Sun from the Loan wave. Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her carSelf-moving, like cloud charioted by flame;Comes she not, and come ye not,Eulers of eternal judge, with solemn truth, lifes ill-apportioned lot ?Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame Of what has been, the Hope of what will be?O Liberty ! if such could be thy name[ 186]. THE YEARS 1820 AND 1821 Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee:If thine or theirs were treasures to be boughtBy blood or tears, have not the wise and freeWept tears, and blood like tears ? The solemnharmony XIX Paused, and the Spirit of that mighty singing To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn;Then, as a wild swan, when sublimely winging Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of headlong through the aerial golden lightOn the heavy sounding plain,When the bolt has pierced its brain;As Summer clouds dissolve, unburthened of their rain ;As a far taper fades with fading night, As a brief insect dies with dying day,My song, its pinions disarrayed of might,Drooped; o^er it closed the echoes far awayOf the great voice which did its flight waves which lately paved his watery wayHiss round a drowners head in their tempe
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