1. Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove, The Herald-child, king of Arcadia And all its pastoral hills, whom in sweet love Having been interwoven, modest May...
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,...
The spider spreads her webs, whether she be In poet's tower, cellar, or barn, or tree; The silk-worm in the dark green mulberry leaves His winding sheet and cradle ever weaves;...
1. We meet not as we parted, We feel more than all may see; My bosom is heavy-hearted, And thine full of doubt for me: - One moment has bound the free.
1. Let those who pine in pride or in revenge, Or think that ill for ill should be repaid, Who barter wrong for wrong, until the exchange Ruins the merchants of such thriftless trade,...
1. A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, And said, A boon, a boon, I pray! I know the secrets of the air, And things are lost in the glare of day, Which I can make the sleeping see,...
Mighty eagle! thou that soarest O'er the misty mountain forest, And amid the light of morning Like a cloud of glory hiest, And when night descends defiest The embattled tempests' warning!
1. The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark - now glittering - now reflecting gloom - Now lending splendour, where from secret springs...
1. I pant for the music which is divine, My heart in its thirst is a dying flower; Pour forth the sound like enchanted wine, Loosen the notes in a silver shower;...
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, Streaking the darkness radiantly! - yet soon Night closes round, and they are lost for ever: ...
1. It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, Upon the cloudy mountain-peak supine; Below, far lands are seen tremblingly; Its horror and its beauty are divine. Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie...
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!...
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....
[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...