Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/30
'Tis scarce like sound; it tingles through the frame
As lightning tingles, hovering ere it strike.
Speak, Spirit! from thine inorganic voice
I only know that thou art moving near
And love. How cursed I him?
How canst thou hear
Who knowest not the language of the dead?
Thou art a living spirit; speak as they.
I dare not speak like life, lest Heaven's fell King
Should hear, and link me to some wheel of pain
More torturing than the one whereon I roll.
Subtle thou art and good; and though the Gods
Hear not this voice, yet thou art more than God,
Being wise and kind: earnestly hearken now.
Obscurely through my brain, like shadows dim,
Sweep awful thoughts, rapid and thick. I feel
Faint, like one mingled in entwining love;
Yet 't is not pleasure.
No, thou canst not hear;
Thou art immortal, and this tongue is known
Only to those who die.
And what art thou,
O melancholy Voice?