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EARLY POEMS
TO HARRIET
[Composed May, 1814. Published (from the Esdaile MSS.) by Dowden, Life of Shelley, 1887.]
Thy look of love has power to calm
The stormiest passion of my soul;
Thy gentle words are drops of balm
In life's too bitter bowl;
No grief is mine, but that alone 5
These choicest blessings I have known.
The stormiest passion of my soul;
Thy gentle words are drops of balm
In life's too bitter bowl;
No grief is mine, but that alone 5
These choicest blessings I have known.
Harriet! if all who long to live
In the warm sunshine of thine eye,
That price beyond all pain must give,—
Beneath thy scorn to die; 10
Then hear thy chosen own too late
His heart most worthy of thy hate.
In the warm sunshine of thine eye,
That price beyond all pain must give,—
Beneath thy scorn to die; 10
Then hear thy chosen own too late
His heart most worthy of thy hate.
Be thou, then, one among mankind
Whose heart is harder not for state,
Thou only virtuous, gentle, kind, 15
Amid a world of hate;
And by a slight endurance seal
A fellow-being's lasting weal.
Whose heart is harder not for state,
Thou only virtuous, gentle, kind, 15
Amid a world of hate;
And by a slight endurance seal
A fellow-being's lasting weal.
For pale with anguish is his cheek.
His breath comes fast, his eyes are dim, 20
Thy name is struggling ere he speak,
Weak is each trembling limb;
In mercy let him not endure
The misery of a fatal cure.
His breath comes fast, his eyes are dim, 20
Thy name is struggling ere he speak,
Weak is each trembling limb;
In mercy let him not endure
The misery of a fatal cure.
Oh, trust for once no erring guide! 25
Bid the remorseless feeling flee;
'Tis malice, 'tis revenge, 'tis pride,
'Tis anything but thee;
Oh, deign a nobler pride to prove,
And pity if thou canst not love. 30
Bid the remorseless feeling flee;
'Tis malice, 'tis revenge, 'tis pride,
'Tis anything but thee;
Oh, deign a nobler pride to prove,
And pity if thou canst not love. 30
TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT GODWIN
[Composed June, 1814. Published in Posthumous Poems, 1824.]
I
Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed;
Yes. I was firm—thus wert[1] not thou:—
My baffled looks did fear[2] yet dread
To meet thy looks—I could not know
How anxiously they sought to shine 5
With soothing pity upon mine.
Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed;
Yes. I was firm—thus wert[1] not thou:—
My baffled looks did fear[2] yet dread
To meet thy looks—I could not know
How anxiously they sought to shine 5
With soothing pity upon mine.
II
To sit and curb the soul's mute rage
Which preys upon itself alone;
To curse the life which is the cage
Of fettered grief that dares not groan, 10
Hiding from many a careless eye
The scornèd load of agony.
To sit and curb the soul's mute rage
Which preys upon itself alone;
To curse the life which is the cage
Of fettered grief that dares not groan, 10
Hiding from many a careless eye
The scornèd load of agony.
III
Whilst thou alone, then not regarded,
Thethou alone should be,
To spend years thus, and be rewarded, 15
As thou, sweet love, requited me
When none were near—Oh! I did wake
From torture for that moment's sake.
Whilst thou alone, then not regarded,
Thethou alone should be,
To spend years thus, and be rewarded, 15
As thou, sweet love, requited me
When none were near—Oh! I did wake
From torture for that moment's sake.
IV
Upon my heart thy accents sweet
Of peace and pity fell like dew 20
On flowers half dead;—thy lips did meet
Mine tremblingly; thy dark eyes threw
Their[3] soft persuasion on my brain,
Charming away its dream of pain.
Upon my heart thy accents sweet
Of peace and pity fell like dew 20
On flowers half dead;—thy lips did meet
Mine tremblingly; thy dark eyes threw
Their[3] soft persuasion on my brain,
Charming away its dream of pain.