POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821
655
FRAGMENT: THE FALSE LAUREL AND THE TRUE
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W, 1839, 1st ed.]
'What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest
The wreath to mighty poets only due,
Even whilst like a forgotten moon thou wanest?
Touch not those leaves which for the eternal few
Who wander o'er the Paradise of fame, 5
In sacred dedication ever grew:
One of the crowd thou art without a name.'
'Ah, friend, 'tis the false laurel that I wear;
Bright though it seem, it is not the same
As that which bound Milton's immortal hair; 10
Its dew is poison; and the hopes that quicken
Under its chilling shade, though seeming fair,
Are flowers which die almost before they sicken.'
The wreath to mighty poets only due,
Even whilst like a forgotten moon thou wanest?
Touch not those leaves which for the eternal few
Who wander o'er the Paradise of fame, 5
In sacred dedication ever grew:
One of the crowd thou art without a name.'
'Ah, friend, 'tis the false laurel that I wear;
Bright though it seem, it is not the same
As that which bound Milton's immortal hair; 10
Its dew is poison; and the hopes that quicken
Under its chilling shade, though seeming fair,
Are flowers which die almost before they sicken.'
FRAGMENT: MAY THE LIMNER
[This and the three following Fragments were edited from MS. Shelley D 1 at the Bodleian Library and published by Mr. C. D. Locock, Examination, &c., Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1903. They are printed here as belonging probably to the year 1821.]
When May is painting with her colours gay
The landscape sketched by April her sweet twin . . .
The landscape sketched by April her sweet twin . . .
FRAGMENT: BEAUTY'S HALO
[Published by Mr. C. D. Locock, Examination, &c., 1903.]
Thy beauty hangs around thee like
Splendour around the moon—
Thy voice, as silver bells that strike
Upon
Splendour around the moon—
Thy voice, as silver bells that strike
Upon
FRAGMENT: 'THE DEATH KNELL IS RINGING'[1]
[Published by Mr. C. D. Locock, Examination, &c., 1903.]
The death knell is ringing
The raven is singing
The earth worm is creeping
The mourners are weeping
Ding dong, bell— 5
The raven is singing
The earth worm is creeping
The mourners are weeping
Ding dong, bell— 5
FRAGMENT: 'I STOOD UPON A HEAVEN-CLEAVING TURRET'
I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret
Which overlooked a wide Metropolis—
And in the temple of my heart my Spirit
Which overlooked a wide Metropolis—
And in the temple of my heart my Spirit
- ↑ 'This reads like a study for Autumn, A Dirge' (Locock). Might it not be part of a projected Fit v. of The Fugitives?—Ed.
