Had shone, gleam stony orbs: - so from his steps Bright flowers departed, and the beautiful shade Of the green groves, with all their odorous winds And musical motions. Calm, he still pursued I Lifted their black and barren pinnacles Mid toppling stones, black gulfs and yawning caves, Whose windings gave ten thousand various tongues To the loud stream. Lo! where the pass expands Made contrast with the universe. A pine, Foaming and hurrying o'er its rugged path, Fell into that immeasurable void Scattering its waters to the passing winds. The dim and hornèd moon hung low and poured Yellow mist A sea of lustre on the horizon's verge Percy Bysshe Shelley ASIA'S SONG FROM Prometheus Unbound Y soul is an enchanted boat, MWhich, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. Upon that many-winding river, Between mountains, woods, abysses, A paradise of wildernesses! Till, like one in slumber bound, Borne to the ocean, I float down, around, Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound. Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions In music's most serene dominions; Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven. And we sail on, away, afar, Without a course, without a star, But by the instinct of sweet music driven; Till through Elysian garden islets By thee, most beautiful of pilots, Where never mortal pinnace glided, The boat of my desire is guided: Realms where the air we breathe is love, Which in the winds and on the waves doth move, Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above. We have passed Age's icy caves, And Manhood's dark and tossing waves, And Youth's smooth ocean, smiling to betray: Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee Of shadow-peopled Infancy, Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day; Lit by downward-gazing flowers, Peopled by shapes too bright to see, And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee; Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously! Percy Bysshe Shelley BUT THE MAJESTIC RIVER FLOATED ON B FROM Sohrab and Rustum OUT the majestic river floated on, Out of the mist and hum of that low land, Into the frosty starlight, and there moved, Rejoicing, through the hushed Chorasmian waste, Under the solitary moon; he flowed gin To hem his watery march, and dam his streams, stars' Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea. Matthew Arnold |