Better than all measures Of delightful sound, That in books are found, 100 Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, 105 The world should listen then-as I am listening now. THE CLOUD I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 5 From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 10 When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; 15 And all the night 'tis my pillow white, 20 While I sleep in the arms of the blast. In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, Lured by the love of the genii that move 25 Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 30 Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, When the morning star shines dead; 35 As on the jag of a mountain crag, 40 Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardours of rest and of love, And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, 45 That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the Moon, 50 Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, 55 When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 60 Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. 65 Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,- 70 The triumphal arch, through which I march, When the powers of the air are chained to my Is the million-colored bow; The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, While the moist earth was laughing below. I am the daughter of earth and water, 75 I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. 80 For after the rain, when with never a stain The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again. 5 10 ADONAIS (1821) I. I weep for Adonais-he is dead! Oh, weep for Adonais! though our tears me Died Adonais; till the Future dares Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be II. Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay, When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies In darkness? where was lorn Urania When Adonais died? With veilèd eyes, 'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise 15 She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath, Rekindled all the fading melodies, With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death. III. 20 Oh, weep for Adonais-he is dead! Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep! bed Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep 25 30 35 40 Like his a mute and uncomplaining sleep; Will yet restore him to the vital air; Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair. IV. Most musical of mourners, weep again! Who was the sire of an immortal strain, Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite Yet reigns o'er earth, the third among the sons of light. V. Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Not all to that bright station dared to climb; In which suns perished; others more sublime, Struck by the envious wrath of man or God, Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime; And some yet live, treading the thorny road, 45 Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode. VI. But now, thy youngest, perished, dearest one has The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, |