[Published by Shelley, 1810. A Reprint, edited by Richard Garnett, C.B., LL.D., was issued by John Lane, in 1898. The punctuation of the original edition is here retained.] ...
A: Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill, Crowned with a ring of oaks, you may behold A dark and barren field, through which there flows, Sluggish and black, a deep but narrow stream,...
O that a chariot of cloud were mine! Of cloud which the wild tempest weaves in air, When the moon over the ocean's line Is spreading the locks of her bright gray hair. O that a chariot of cloud were mine!...
1. Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be, Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim From Brutus his own glory - and on thee Rests the full splendour of his sacred fame:...
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,...
Pan loved his neighbour Echo - but that child Of Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping; The Satyr loved with wasting madness wild The bright nymph Lyda, and so three went weeping....
Listen, listen, Mary mine, To the whisper of the Apennine, It bursts on the roof like the thunder's roar, Or like the sea on a northern shore, Heard in its raging ebb and flow...
Peter Bells, one, two and three, O'er the wide world wandering be. - First, the antenatal Peter, Wrapped in weeds of the same metre, The so-long-predestined raiment...
[An edition (250 copies) of "Queen Mab" was printed at London in the summer of 1813 by Shelley himself, whose name, as author and printer, appears on the title-page. Of this edition about seventy copies were privately distribut...
1. Swifter far than summer's flight - Swifter far than youth's delight - Swifter far than happy night, Art thou come and gone - As the earth when leaves are dead, As the night when sleep is sped,...
'Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill, Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill, The thunder's wild voice rattles madly above, You will not then, cannot then, leave me my love. - ' ...
1. As from an ancestral oak Two empty ravens sound their clarion, Yell by yell, and croak by croak, When they scent the noonday smoke Of fresh human carrion: -
1. The death-bell beats! - The mountain repeats The echoing sound of the knell; And the dark Monk now Wraps the cowl round his brow, As he sits in his lonely cell.