POEMS WRITTEN IN 1820
627
FRAGMENT: A SERPENT-FACE
[Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.]
His face was like a snake's—wrinkled and loose
And withered—
And withered—
FRAGMENT: DEATH IN LIFE
[Published by Dr. Garnett, Relics of Shelley, 1862.]
My head is heavy, my limbs are weary,
And it is not life that makes me move.
And it is not life that makes me move.
FRAGMENT: 'SUCH HOPE, AS IS THE SICK DESPAIR OF GOOD'
[Published by Dr. Garnett, Relics of Shelley, 1862.]
Such hope, as is the sick despair of good,
Such fear, as is the certainty of ill,
Such doubt, as is pale Expectation's food
Turned while she tastes to poison, when the will
Is powerless, and the spirit . . . 5
Such fear, as is the certainty of ill,
Such doubt, as is pale Expectation's food
Turned while she tastes to poison, when the will
Is powerless, and the spirit . . . 5
FRAGMENT: 'ALAS! THIS IS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT LIFE WAS'
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 1st ed. This fragment is joined by Forman with that immediately preceding.]
Alas! this is not what I thought life was.
I knew that there were crimes and evil men,
Misery and hate; nor did I hope to pass
Untouched by suffering, through the rugged glen.
In mine own heart I saw as in a glass 5
The hearts of othersAnd when
I went among my kind, with triple brass
Of calm endurance my weak breast I armed.
To bear scorn, fear, and hate, a woful mass!
I knew that there were crimes and evil men,
Misery and hate; nor did I hope to pass
Untouched by suffering, through the rugged glen.
In mine own heart I saw as in a glass 5
The hearts of othersAnd when
I went among my kind, with triple brass
Of calm endurance my weak breast I armed.
To bear scorn, fear, and hate, a woful mass!
FRAGMENT: MILTON'S SPIRIT
[Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.]
I dreamed that Milton's spirit rose, and took
From life's green tree his Uranian lute;[1]
And from his touch sweet thunder flowed, and shook
All human things built in contempt of man,—
And sanguine thrones and impious altars quaked, 5
Prisons and citadels. . .
From life's green tree his Uranian lute;[1]
And from his touch sweet thunder flowed, and shook
All human things built in contempt of man,—
And sanguine thrones and impious altars quaked, 5
Prisons and citadels. . .
- ↑ Fragment: Milton's Spirit 2 lute Uranian cj. A. C. Bradley.
