Invocation

How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
Thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false thou hast forgot
All but those who need thee not.

As a lizard with the shade

Of a trembling leaf,

Thou with sorrow art dismay'd;
Even the sighs of grief
Reproach thee, that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not hear.

Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure ;—
Thou wilt never come for pity,

Thou wilt come for pleasure ;

Pity thou wilt cut away

Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

I love all that thou lovest,

Spirit of Delight!

The fresh Earth in new leaves drest

And the starry night;

Autumn evening, and the morn

When the golden mists are born.

I love snow and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;

I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Everything almost

Which is Nature's, and may be

Untainted by man's misery.

I love tranquil solitude,
And such society

As is quiet, wise, and good;

Between thee and me

245

246 Stanzas Written in Dejection

What diff'rence? but thou dost
possess
The things I seek, nor love them less.

I love Love-though he has wings,
And like light can flee,

But above all other things,

Spirit, I love thee—

Thou art love and life! O come!

Make once more my heart thy home!

P. B. SHELLEY

CCXXVII

STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION
NEAR NAPLES

The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent light:
The breath of the moist earth is light
Around its unexpanded buds;

Like many a voice of one delight

The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods'—
The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.

I see the Deep's untrampled floor
With green and purple sea-weeds strown;
I see the waves upon the shore

Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown:
upon the sands alone;

I sit

The lightning of the noon-tide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion

How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion

The Scholar

Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that Content, surpassing wealth,
The sage in meditation found,

And walk'd with inward glory crown'd-
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure;
Others I see whom these surround-
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Yet now despair itself is mild

Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care

Which I have borne, and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

247

CCXXVIII

THE SCHOLAR

My days among the Dead are past;
Around me I behold,

Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old :

My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal
And seek relief in woe;

And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,

My cheeks have often been bedew'd

With tears of thoughtful gratitude.

P. B. SHELLEY

248

The Mermaid Tavern

My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
I live in long-past years,

Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
Partake their hopes and fears,

And from their lessons seek and find
Instruction with an humble mind.

My hopes are with the Dead; anon
My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
Through all Futurity;

Yet leaving here a name, I trust,

That will not perish in the dust.

R. SOUTHEY

CCXXIX

THE MERMAID TAVERN

Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host's Canary wine?
Or are fruits of Paradise
Sweeter than those dainty pies
Of Venison? O generous food!
Drest as though bold Robin Hood
Would, with his Maid Marian,
Sup and bowse from horn and can.

I have heard that on a day
Mine host's sign-board flew away
Nobody knew whither, till
An astrologer's old quill

The Pride of Youth

To a sheepskin gave the story—
Said he saw you in your glory
Underneath a new-old Sign
Sipping beverage divine,

And pledging with contented smack
The Mermaid in the Zodiac!

Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known-
Happy field or mossy cavern-
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?

J. KEATS

CCXXX

THE PRIDE OF YOUTH

Proud Maisie is in the wood,

Walking so early;

Sweet Robin sits on the bush

Singing so rarely.

Tell me, thou bonny bird,

When shall I

marry me?'

When six braw gentlemen
Kirkward shall carry ye.'

"Who makes the bridal bed,
Birdie, say truly?'

The gray-headed sexton
That delves the grave duly.

The glowworm o'er grave and stone
Shall light thee steady;

The owl from the steeple sing,

Welcome, proud lady.'

SIR W. SCOTT

249