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 . ad, indeed, my adored Nightingale !But soft and fragrant is the faded it has no thorn left to wound thy bosom. High, spirit-winged Heart! who dost for everBeat thine unfeeling bars with vain those bright plumes of thought, in which arrayedIt over-soared this low and worldly shade,Lie shattered; and thy panting, wounded breastStains with dear blood its unmaternal nest!I weep vain tears: blood would less bitter po
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 . ad, indeed, my adored Nightingale !But soft and fragrant is the faded it has no thorn left to wound thy bosom. High, spirit-winged Heart! who dost for everBeat thine unfeeling bars with vain those bright plumes of thought, in which arrayedIt over-soared this low and worldly shade,Lie shattered; and thy panting, wounded breastStains with dear blood its unmaternal nest!I weep vain tears: blood would less bitter poured forth gladlier, could it profit thee. Seraph of Heaven ! too gentle to be beneath that radiant form of WomanAll that is insupportable in theeOf light, and love, and immortality !Sweet Benediction in the eternal Curse !Yeiled Glory of this lampless Universe!Thou Moon beyond the clouds ! Thou living FormAmong the Dead! Thou Star above the Storm !Thou Wonder, and thou Beauty, and thou Terror!Thou Harmony of Nature^s art! Thou MirrorIn whom, as in the splendour of the sun,All shapes look glorious which thou gazest on![ 206 ] a r; —S > THE YEARS 1820 AND 1821 Ay, even the dim words which obscure thee now Flash, lightning-hke with unaccustomed glow. I pray thee that thou blot from this sad song All of its much mortality and wrong, With those clear drops, which start like sacred dew From the twin lights thy sweet soul darkens through, Weeping, till sorrow becomes ecstasy: Then smile on it, so that it may not die. I never thought before my death to seeYouths vision thus made perfect. Emily,I love thee; thougli the world by no thin nameWill hide that love, from its unvalued we two had been twins of the same mother!Or, that the name my heart lent to anotherCould be a sisters bond for her and two beams of one eternity!Yet were one lawful and the other names, though dear, could paint not, as is beyond refuge I am thin
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