The Complete Poetical Works, by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Triumph of Life.

Swift as a spirit hastening to his task

Of glory and of good, the Sun sprang forth

Rejoicing in his splendour, and the mask

Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth —

5

The smokeless altars of the mountain snows

Flamed above crimson clouds, and at the birth

Of light, the Ocean’s orison arose,

To which the birds tempered their matin lay.

All flowers in field or forest which unclose

10

Their trembling eyelids to the kiss of day,

Swinging their censers in the element,

With orient incense lit by the new ray

Burned slow and inconsumably, and sent

Their odorous sighs up to the smiling air;

15

And, in succession due, did continent,

Isle, ocean, and all things that in them wear

The form and character of mortal mould,

Rise as the Sun their father rose, to bear

Their portion of the toil, which he of old

20

Took as his own, and then imposed on them:

But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold

Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem

The cone of night, now they were laid asleep

Stretched my faint limbs beneath the hoary stem

25

Which an old chestnut flung athwart the steep

Of a green Apennine: before me fled

The night; behind me rose the day; the deep

Was at my feet, and Heaven above my head —

When a strange trance over my fancy grew

30

Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread

Was so transparent, that the scene came through

As clear as when a veil of light is drawn

O’er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew

That I had felt the freshness of that dawn

35

Bathe in the same cold dew my brow and hair,

And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn

Under the self-same bough, and heard as there

The birds, the fountains and the ocean hold

Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air,

40

And then a vision on my train was rolled.

. . .

As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay,

This was the tenour of my waking dream:—

Methought I sate beside a public way

Thick strewn with summer dust, and a great stream

45

Of people there was hurrying to and fro,

Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam,

All hastening onward, yet none seemed to know

Whither he went, or whence he came, or why

He made one of the multitude, and so

50

Was borne amid the crowd, as through the sky

One of the million leaves of summer’s bier;

Old age and youth, manhood and infancy,

Mixed in one mighty torrent did appear,

Some flying from the thing they feared, and some

55

Seeking the object of another’s fear;

And others, as with steps towards the tomb,

Pored on the trodden worms that crawled beneath,

And others mournfully within the gloom

Of their own shadow walked, and called it death;

60

And some fled from it as it were a ghost,

Half fainting in the affliction of vain breath:

But more, with motions which each other crossed,

Pursued or shunned the shadows the clouds threw,

Or birds within the noonday aether lost,

Upon that path where flowers never grew —

And, weary with vain toil and faint for thirst,

Heard not the fountains, whose melodious dew

Out of their mossy cells forever burst;

Nor felt the breeze which from the forest told

70

Of grassy paths and wood-lawns interspersed

With overarching elms and caverns cold,

And violet banks where sweet dreams brood, but they

Pursued their serious folly as of old.

And as I gazed, methought that in the way

75

The throng grew wilder, as the woods of June

When the south wind shakes the extinguished day,

And a cold glare, intenser than the noon,

But icy cold, obscured with blinding light

The sun, as he the stars. Like the young moon —

80

When on the sunlit limits of the night

Her white shell trembles amid crimson air,

And whilst the sleeping tempest gathers might —

Doth, as the herald of its coming, bear

The ghost of its dead mother, whose dim form

85

Bends in dark aether from her infant’s chair —

So came a chariot on the silent storm

Of its own rushing splendour, and a Shape

So sate within, as one whom years deform,

Beneath a dusky hood and double cape,

90

Crouching within the shadow of a tomb;

And o’er what seemed the head a cloud-like crape

Was bent, a dun and faint aethereal gloom

Tempering the light. Upon the chariot-beam

A Janus-visaged Shadow did assume

95

The guidance of that wonder-winged team;

The shapes which drew it in thick lightenings

Were lost:— I heard alone on the air’s soft stream

The music of their ever-moving wings.

All the four faces of that Charioteer

100

Had their eyes banded; little profit brings

Speed in the van and blindness in the rear,

Nor then avail the beams that quench the sun —

Or that with banded eyes could pierce the sphere

Of all that is, has been or will be done;

105

So ill was the car guided — but it passed

With solemn speed majestically on.

The crowd gave way, and I arose aghast,

Or seemed to rise, so mighty was the trance,

And saw, like clouds upon the thunder-blast,

110

The million with fierce song and maniac dance

Raging around — such seemed the jubilee

As when to greet some conqueror’s advance

Imperial Rome poured forth her living sea

From senate-house, and forum, and theatre,

115

When . . . upon the free

Had bound a yoke, which soon they stooped to bear.

Nor wanted here the just similitude

Of a triumphal pageant, for where’er

The chariot rolled, a captive multitude

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Was driven; — all those who had grown old in power

Or misery — all who had their age subdued

By action or by suffering, and whose hour

Was drained to its last sand in weal or woe,

So that the trunk survived both fruit and flower; —

125

All those whose fame or infamy must grow

Till the great winter lay the form and name

Of this green earth with them for ever low; —

All but the sacred few who could not tame

Their spirits to the conquerors — but as soon

130

As they had touched the world with living flame,

Fled back like eagles to their native noon,

Or those who put aside the diadem

Of earthly thrones or gems . . .

Were there, of Athens or Jerusalem.

135

Were neither mid the mighty captives seen,

Nor mid the ribald crowd that followed them,

Nor those who went before fierce and obscene.

The wild dance maddens in the van, and those

Who lead it — fleet as shadows on the green,

140

Outspeed the chariot, and without repose

Mix with each other in tempestuous measure

To savage music, wilder as it grows,

They, tortured by their agonizing pleasure,

Convulsed and on the rapid whirlwinds spun

145

Of that fierce Spirit, whose unholy leisure

Was soothed by mischief since the world begun,

Throw back their heads and loose their streaming hair;

And in their dance round her who dims the sun,

Maidens and youths fling their wild arms in air

150

As their feet twinkle; they recede, and now

Bending within each other’s atmosphere,

Kindle invisibly — and as they glow,

Like moths by light attracted and repelled,

Oft to their bright destruction come and go,

155

Till like two clouds into one vale impelled,

That shake the mountains when their lightnings mingle

And die in rain — the fiery band which held

Their natures, snaps — while the shock still may tingle

One falls and then another in the path

160

Senseless — nor is the desolation single,

Yet ere I can say WHERE— the chariot hath

Passed over them — nor other trace I find

But as of foam after the ocean’s wrath

Is spent upon the desert shore; — behind,

165

Old men and women foully disarrayed,

Shake their gray hairs in the insulting wind,

And follow in the dance, with limbs decayed,

Seeking to reach the light which leaves them still

Farther behind and deeper in the shade.

170

But not the less with impotence of will

They wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose

Round them and round each other, and fulfil

Their work, and in the dust from whence they rose

Sink, and corruption veils them as they lie,

175

And past in these performs what . . . in those.

Struck to the heart by this sad pageantry,

Half to myself I said —‘And what is this?

Whose shape is that within the car? And why —’

I would have added —‘is all here amiss? —’

180

But a voice answered —‘Life!’— I turned, and knew

(O Heaven, have mercy on such wretchedness!)

That what I thought was an old root which grew

To strange distortion out of the hill side,

Was indeed one of those deluded crew,

185

And that the grass, which methought hung so wide

And white, was but his thin discoloured hair,

And that the holes he vainly sought to hide,

Were or had been eyes:—‘If thou canst forbear

To join the dance, which I had well forborne,’

190

Said the grim Feature, of my thought aware,

‘I will unfold that which to this deep scorn

Led me and my companions, and relate

The progress of the pageant since the morn;

‘If thirst of knowledge shall not then abate,

195

Follow it thou even to the night, but I

Am weary.’— Then like one who with the weight

Of his own words is staggered, wearily

He paused; and ere he could resume, I cried:

‘First, who art thou?’—‘Before thy memory,

200

‘I feared, loved, hated, suffered, did and died,

And if the spark with which Heaven lit my spirit

Had been with purer nutriment supplied,

‘Corruption would not now thus much inherit

Of what was once Rousseau — nor this disguise

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Stain that which ought to have disdained to wear it;

‘If I have been extinguished, yet there rise

A thousand beacons from the spark I bore’—

‘And who are those chained to the car?’—‘The wise,

‘The great, the unforgotten — they who wore

210

Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light,

Signs of thought’s empire over thought — their lore

‘Taught them not this, to know themselves; their might

Could not repress the mystery within,

And for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night

215

‘Caught them ere evening.’—‘Who is he with chin

Upon his breast, and hands crossed on his chain?’—

‘The child of a fierce hour; he sought to win

‘The world, and lost all that it did contain

Of greatness, in its hope destroyed; and more

220

Of fame and peace than virtue’s self can gain

‘Without the opportunity which bore

Him on its eagle pinions to the peak

From which a thousand climbers have before

‘Fallen, as Napoleon fell.’— I felt my cheek

225

Alter, to see the shadow pass away,

Whose grasp had left the giant world so weak

That every pigmy kicked it as it lay;

And much I grieved to think how power and will

In opposition rule our mortal day,

230

And why God made irreconcilable

Good and the means of good; and for despair

I half disdained mine eyes’ desire to fill

With the spent vision of the times that were

And scarce have ceased to be. —‘Dost thou behold,’

235

Said my guide, ‘those spoilers spoiled, Voltaire,

‘Frederick, and Paul, Catherine, and Leopold,

And hoary anarchs, demagogues, and sage —

names which the world thinks always old,

‘For in the battle Life and they did wage,

240

She remained conqueror. I was overcome

By my own heart alone, which neither age,

‘Nor tears, nor infamy, nor now the tomb

Could temper to its object.’—‘Let them pass,’

I cried, ‘the world and its mysterious doom

245

‘Is not so much more glorious than it was,

That I desire to worship those who drew

New figures on its false and fragile glass

‘As the old faded.’—‘Figures ever new

Rise on the bubble, paint them as you may;

250

We have but thrown, as those before us threw,

‘Our shadows on it as it passed away.

But mark how chained to the triumphal chair

The mighty phantoms of an elder day;

‘All that is mortal of great Plato there

255

Expiates the joy and woe his master knew not;

The star that ruled his doom was far too fair.

‘And life, where long that flower of Heaven grew not,

Conquered that heart by love, which gold, or pain,

Or age, or sloth, or slavery could subdue not.

260

‘And near him walk the . . . twain,

The tutor and his pupil, whom Dominion

Followed as tame as vulture in a chain.

‘The world was darkened beneath either pinion

Of him whom from the flock of conquerors

265

Fame singled out for her thunder-bearing minion;

‘The other long outlived both woes and wars,

Throned in the thoughts of men, and still had kept

The jealous key of Truth’s eternal doors,

‘If Bacon’s eagle spirit had not lept

270

Like lightning out of darkness — he compelled

The Proteus shape of Nature, as it slept

‘To wake, and lead him to the caves that held

The treasure of the secrets of its reign.

See the great bards of elder time, who quelled

275

‘The passions which they sung, as by their strain

May well be known: their living melody

Tempers its own contagion to the vein

‘Of those who are infected with it — I

Have suffered what I wrote, or viler pain!

180

And so my words have seeds of misery —

‘Even as the deeds of others, not as theirs.’

And then he pointed to a company,

‘Midst whom I quickly recognized the heirs

Of Caesar’s crime, from him to Constantine;

285

The anarch chiefs, whose force and murderous snares

Had founded many a sceptre-bearing line,

And spread the plague of gold and blood abroad:

And Gregory and John, and men divine,

Who rose like shadows between man and God;

290

Till that eclipse, still hanging over heaven,

Was worshipped by the world o’er which they strode,

For the true sun it quenched —‘Their power was given

But to destroy,’ replied the leader:—‘I

Am one of those who have created, even

295

‘If it be but a world of agony.’—

‘Whence camest thou? and whither goest thou?

How did thy course begin?’ I said, ‘and why?

‘Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow

Of people, and my heart sick of one sad thought —

300

Speak!’—‘Whence I am, I partly seem to know,

‘And how and by what paths I have been brought

To this dread pass, methinks even thou mayst guess; —

Why this should be, my mind can compass not;

‘Whither the conqueror hurries me, still less; —

305

But follow thou, and from spectator turn

Actor or victim in this wretchedness,

‘And what thou wouldst be taught I then may learn

From thee. Now listen:— In the April prime,

When all the forest-tips began to burn

310

‘With kindling green, touched by the azure clime

Of the young season, I was laid asleep

Under a mountain, which from unknown time

‘Had yawned into a cavern, high and deep;

And from it came a gentle rivulet,

315

Whose water, like clear air, in its calm sweep

‘Bent the soft grass, and kept for ever wet

The stems of the sweet flowers, and filled the grove

With sounds, which whoso hears must needs forget

‘All pleasure and all pain, all hate and love,

320

Which they had known before that hour of rest;

A sleeping mother then would dream not of

‘Her only child who died upon the breast

At eventide — a king would mourn no more

The crown of which his brows were dispossessed

325

‘When the sun lingered o’er his ocean floor

To gild his rival’s new prosperity.

‘Thou wouldst forget thus vainly to deplore

‘Ills, which if ills can find no cure from thee,

The thought of which no other sleep will quell,

330

Nor other music blot from memory,

‘So sweet and deep is the oblivious spell;

And whether life had been before that sleep

The Heaven which I imagine, or a Hell

‘Like this harsh world in which I woke to weep,

335

I know not. I arose, and for a space

The scene of woods and waters seemed to keep,

Though it was now broad day, a gentle trace

Of light diviner than the common sun

Sheds on the common earth, and all the place

340

‘Was filled with magic sounds woven into one

Oblivious melody, confusing sense

Amid the gliding waves and shadows dun;

‘And, as I looked, the bright omnipresence

Of morning through the orient cavern flowed,

345

And the sun’s image radiantly intense

‘Burned on the waters of the well that glowed

Like gold, and threaded all the forest’s maze

With winding paths of emerald fire; there stood

350

‘Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze

Of his own glory, on the vibrating

Floor of the fountain, paved with flashing rays,

‘A Shape all light, which with one hand did fling

Dew on the earth, as if she were the dawn,

And the invisible rain did ever sing

355

‘A silver music on the mossy lawn;

And still before me on the dusky grass,

Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn:

‘In her right hand she bore a crystal glass,

Mantling with bright Nepenthe; the fierce splendour

360

Fell from her as she moved under the mass

‘Of the deep cavern, and with palms so tender,

Their tread broke not the mirror of its billow,

Glided along the river, and did bend her

‘Head under the dark boughs, till like a willow

365

Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream

That whispered with delight to be its pillow.

‘As one enamoured is upborne in dream

O’er lily-paven lakes, mid silver mist

To wondrous music, so this shape might seem

370

‘Partly to tread the waves with feet which kissed

The dancing foam; partly to glide along

The air which roughened the moist amethyst,

‘Or the faint morning beams that fell among

The trees, or the soft shadows of the trees;

375

And her feet, ever to the ceaseless song

‘Of leaves, and winds, and waves, and birds, and bees,

And falling drops, moved in a measure new

Yet sweet, as on the summer evening breeze,

‘Up from the lake a shape of golden dew

380

Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon,

Dances i’ the wind, where never eagle flew;

‘And still her feet, no less than the sweet tune

To which they moved, seemed as they moved to blot

The thoughts of him who gazed on them; and soon

385

‘All that was, seemed as if it had been not;

And all the gazer’s mind was strewn beneath

Her feet like embers; and she, thought by thought,

‘Trampled its sparks into the dust of death

As day upon the threshold of the east

390

Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath

‘Of darkness re-illumine even the least

Of heaven’s living eyes — like day she came,

Making the night a dream; and ere she ceased

‘To move, as one between desire and shame

395

Suspended, I said — If, as it doth seem,

Thou comest from the realm without a name

‘Into this valley of perpetual dream,

Show whence I came, and where I am, and why —

Pass not away upon the passing stream.

400

‘Arise and quench thy thirst, was her reply.

And as a shut lily stricken by the wand

Of dewy morning’s vital alchemy,

‘I rose; and, bending at her sweet command,

Touched with faint lips the cup she raised,

405

And suddenly my brain became as sand

‘Where the first wave had more than half erased

The track of deer on desert Labrador;

Whilst the wolf, from which they fled amazed,

‘Leaves his stamp visibly upon the shore,

410

Until the second bursts; — so on my sight

Burst a new vision, never seen before,

‘And the fair shape waned in the coming light,

As veil by veil the silent splendour drops

From Lucifer, amid the chrysolite

415

‘Of sunrise, ere it tinge the mountain-tops;

And as the presence of that fairest planet,

Although unseen, is felt by one who hopes

‘That his day’s path may end as he began it,

In that star’s smile, whose light is like the scent

420

Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it,

‘Or the soft note in which his dear lament

The Brescian shepherd breathes, or the caress

That turned his weary slumber to content;

‘So knew I in that light’s severe excess

425

The presence of that Shape which on the stream

Moved, as I moved along the wilderness,

‘More dimly than a day-appearing dream,

The host of a forgotten form of sleep;

A light of heaven, whose half-extinguished beam

430

‘Through the sick day in which we wake to weep

Glimmers, for ever sought, for ever lost;

So did that shape its obscure tenour keep

‘Beside my path, as silent as a ghost;

But the new Vision, and the cold bright car,

435

With solemn speed and stunning music, crossed

‘The forest, and as if from some dread war

Triumphantly returning, the loud million

Fiercely extolled the fortune of her star.

‘A moving arch of victory, the vermilion

440

And green and azure plumes of Iris had

Built high over her wind-winged pavilion,

‘And underneath aethereal glory clad

The wilderness, and far before her flew

The tempest of the splendour, which forbade

445

‘Shadow to fall from leaf and stone; the crew

Seemed in that light, like atomies to dance

Within a sunbeam; — some upon the new

‘Embroidery of flowers, that did enhance

The grassy vesture of the desert, played,

450

Forgetful of the chariot’s swift advance;

‘Others stood gazing, till within the shade

Of the great mountain its light left them dim;

Others outspeeded it; and others made

‘Circles around it, like the clouds that swim

455

Round the high moon in a bright sea of air;

And more did follow, with exulting hymn,

‘The chariot and the captives fettered there:—

But all like bubbles on an eddying flood

Fell into the same track at last, and were

460

‘Borne onward. — I among the multitude

Was swept — me, sweetest flowers delayed not long;

Me, not the shadow nor the solitude;

‘Me, not that falling stream’s Lethean song;

Me, not the phantom of that early Form

465

Which moved upon its motion — but among

‘The thickest billows of that living storm

I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime

Of that cold light, whose airs too soon deform.

‘Before the chariot had begun to climb

470

The opposing steep of that mysterious dell,

Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme

‘Of him who from the lowest depths of hell,

Through every paradise and through all glory,

Love led serene, and who returned to tell

475

‘The words of hate and awe; the wondrous story

How all things are transfigured except Love;

For deaf as is a sea, which wrath makes hoary,

‘The world can hear not the sweet notes that move

The sphere whose light is melody to lovers —

480

A wonder worthy of his rhyme. — The grove

‘Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers,

The earth was gray with phantoms, and the air

Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers

‘A flock of vampire-bats before the glare

485

Of the tropic sun, bringing, ere evening,

Strange night upon some Indian isle; — thus were

‘Phantoms diffused around; and some did fling

Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves,

Behind them; some like eaglets on the wing

490

‘Were lost in the white day; others like elves

Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes

Upon the sunny streams and grassy shelves;

‘And others sate chattering like restless apes

On vulgar hands, . . .

495

Some made a cradle of the ermined capes

‘Of kingly mantles; some across the tiar

Of pontiffs sate like vultures; others played

Under the crown which girt with empire

‘A baby’s or an idiot’s brow, and made

500

Their nests in it. The old anatomies

Sate hatching their bare broods under the shade

‘Of daemon wings, and laughed from their dead eyes

To reassume the delegated power,

Arrayed in which those worms did monarchize,

505

‘Who made this earth their charnel. Others more

Humble, like falcons, sate upon the fist

Of common men, and round their heads did soar;

Or like small gnats and flies, as thick as mist

On evening marshes, thronged about the brow

510

Of lawyers, statesmen, priest and theorist; —

‘And others, like discoloured flakes of snow

On fairest bosoms and the sunniest hair,

Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow

‘Which they extinguished; and, like tears, they were

515

A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained

In drops of sorrow. I became aware

‘Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained

The track in which we moved. After brief space,

From every form the beauty slowly waned;

520

‘From every firmest limb and fairest face

The strength and freshness fell like dust, and left

The action and the shape without the grace

‘Of life. The marble brow of youth was cleft

With care; and in those eyes where once hope shone,

525

Desire, like a lioness bereft

‘Of her last cub, glared ere it died; each one

Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly

These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown

530

‘In autumn evening from a poplar tree.

Each like himself and like each other were

At first; but some distorted seemed to be

‘Obscure clouds, moulded by the casual air;

And of this stuff the car’s creative ray

Wrought all the busy phantoms that were there,

535

‘As the sun shapes the clouds; thus on the way

Mask after mask fell from the countenance

And form of all; and long before the day

‘Was old, the joy which waked like heaven’s glance

The sleepers in the oblivious valley, died;

540

And some grew weary of the ghastly dance,

‘And fell, as I have fallen, by the wayside; —

Those soonest from whose forms most shadows passed,

And least of strength and beauty did abide.

‘Then, what is life? I cried.’—

Cancelled Opening of the Triumph of Life.

Out of the eastern shadow of the Earth,

Amid the clouds upon its margin gray

Scattered by Night to swathe in its bright birth

In gold and fleecy snow the infant Day,

5

The glorious Sun arose: beneath his light,

The earth and all . . .

printed as ‘A Song,’ 1824, page 217.

Of grassy paths and wood, lawn-interspersed 1824;

wood-lawn-interspersed 1839.

[Composed at Lerici on the Gulf of Spezzia in the spring and early summer of 1822 — the poem on which Shelley was engaged at the time of his death. Published by Mrs. Shelley in the “Posthumous Poems” of 1824, pages 73-95. Several emendations, the result of Dr. Garnett’s examination of the Boscombe manuscript, were given to the world by Miss Mathilde Blind, “Westminster Review”, July, 1870. The poem was, of course, included in the “Poetical Works”, 1839, both editions. See Editor’s Notes.]

[Published by Miss M. Blind, “Westminster Review”, July, 1870.]

_10-_17 A widow . . . sound 1870; omitted here 1824;

_34, _35 dawn Bathe Mrs. Shelley (later editions); dawn, Bathed 1824, 1839.

_63 shunned Boscombe manuscript; spurned 1824, 1839.

_70 Of . . . interspersed Boscombe manuscript;

_84 form]frown 1824.

_93 light . . . beam]light upon the chariot beam; 1824.

_96 it omitted 1824.

_109 thunder Boscombe manuscript; thunders 1824; thunder’s 1839.

_112 greet Boscombe manuscript; meet 1824, 1839.

_129 conqueror or conqueror’s cj. A.C. Bradley.

_131-_134 See Editor’s Note.

_158 while Boscombe manuscript; omitted 1824, 1839.

_167 And . . . dance 1839 To seek, to [ ], to strain 1824.

_168 Seeking 1839; Limping 1824.

_188 canst, Mrs. Shelley 1824, 1839, 1847.

_189 forborne!’ 1824, 1839, 1847.

_190 Feature, (of my thought aware); Mrs. Shelley 1847.

_188-_190 The punctuation is A.C. Bradley’s.

_202 nutriment Boscombe manuscript; sentiment 1824, 1839.

_205 Stain]Stained 1824, 1839.

_235 Said my 1824, 1839; Said then my cj. Forman.

_238 names which the 1839: name the 1824.

_252 how]now cj. Forman.

_260 him 1839; omitted 1824.

_265 singled for cj. Forman.

_280 See Editor’s Note.

_281, _282 Even . . . then Boscombe manuscript; omitted 1824, 1839.

_296 camest Boscombe manuscript; comest 1824, 1839.

_311 season Boscombe manuscript; year’s dawn 1824, 1839.

_322 the Boscombe manuscript; her 1824, 1839.

_334 woke cj. A.C. Bradley; wake 1824, 1839. Cf. _296, footnote.

_361 Of . . . and Boscombe manuscript; Out of the deep cavern with 1824, 1839.

_363 Glided Boscombe manuscript; She glided 1824, 1839.

_377 in Boscombe manuscript; to 1824.

_422 The favourite song, Stanco di pascolar le pecorelle, is a Brescian national air. —[MRS. SHELLEY’S NOTE.]

_464 early]aery cj. Forman.

_475 awe Boscombe manuscript; care 1824.

_486 isle Boscombe manuscript; vale 1824.

_497 sate like vultures Boscombe manuscript; rode like demons 1824.

_515 those]eyes cj. Rossetti.

_534 Wrought Boscombe manuscript; Wrapt 1824.

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Last updated Wednesday, March 5, 2014 at 22:30