546
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1817
A HATE-SONG
[Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.]
A Hater he came and sat by a ditch,
And he took an old cracked lute;
And he sang a song which was more of a screcch
'Gainst a woman that was a brute.
And he took an old cracked lute;
And he sang a song which was more of a screcch
'Gainst a woman that was a brute.
LINES TO A CRITIC
[Published by Hunt in The Liberal, No. III, 1823. Reprinted in Posthumous Poems, 1824, where it is dated December, 1817.]
I
Honey from silkworms who can gather,
Or silk from the yellow bee?
The grass may grow in winter weather
As soon as hate in me.
Honey from silkworms who can gather,
Or silk from the yellow bee?
The grass may grow in winter weather
As soon as hate in me.
II
Hate men who cant, and men who pray, 5
And men who rail like thee;
An equal passion to repay
They are not coy like me.
Hate men who cant, and men who pray, 5
And men who rail like thee;
An equal passion to repay
They are not coy like me.
III
Or seek some slave of power and gold
To be thy dear heart's mate; 10
Thy love will move that bigot cold
Sooner than me, thy hate.
Or seek some slave of power and gold
To be thy dear heart's mate; 10
Thy love will move that bigot cold
Sooner than me, thy hate.
IV
A passion like the one I prove
Cannot divided be;
I hate thy want of truth and love—
How should I then hate thee? 16
A passion like the one I prove
Cannot divided be;
I hate thy want of truth and love—
How should I then hate thee? 16
OZYMANDIAS
[Published by Hunt in The Examiner, January, 1818. Reprinted with Rosalind and Helen, 1819. There is a copy amongst the Shelley MSS. at the Bodleian Library. See Mr. C. D. Locock's Examination, &c., 1903, p. 46.]
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, 5
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:[1]
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: 10
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, 5
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:[1]
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: 10
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
- ↑ Ozymandias.—9 these words appear] this legend clear B.
