step by step and stair by stair, _55
That withered woman, gray and white and brown--
More like a trunk by lichens overgrown
Than anything which once could have been human.
That withered woman, gray and white and brown--
More like a trunk by lichens overgrown
Than anything which once could have been human.
Shelley
.
.
which was a shade
Of gentle beauty on the flowers: there lay _45
All gems that make the earth's dark bosom gay.
. . . rods of myrtle-buds and lemon-blooms,
And that leaf tinted lightly which assumes
The livery of unremembered snow--
Violets whose eyes have drunk-- _50
. . .
Fiordispina and her nurse are now
Upon the steps of the high portico,
Under the withered arm of Media
She flings her glowing arm
. . .
. . .
step by step and stair by stair, _55
That withered woman, gray and white and brown--
More like a trunk by lichens overgrown
Than anything which once could have been human.
And ever as she goes the palsied woman
. . .
'How slow and painfully you seem to walk, _60
Poor Media! you tire yourself with talk. '
'And well it may,
Fiordispina, dearest--well-a-day!
You are hastening to a marriage-bed;
I to the grave! '--'And if my love were dead, _65
Unless my heart deceives me, I would lie
Beside him in my shroud as willingly
As now in the gay night-dress Lilla wrought. '
'Fie, child! Let that unseasonable thought
Not be remembered till it snows in June; _70
Such fancies are a music out of tune
With the sweet dance your heart must keep to-night.
What! would you take all beauty and delight
Back to the Paradise from which you sprung,
And leave to grosser mortals? -- _75
And say, sweet lamb, would you not learn the sweet
And subtle mystery by which spirits meet?
Who knows whether the loving game is played,
When, once of mortal [vesture] disarrayed,
The naked soul goes wandering here and there _80
Through the wide deserts of Elysian air?
The violet dies not till it'--
NOTES:
_11 to 1824; two editions 1839.
Of gentle beauty on the flowers: there lay _45
All gems that make the earth's dark bosom gay.
. . . rods of myrtle-buds and lemon-blooms,
And that leaf tinted lightly which assumes
The livery of unremembered snow--
Violets whose eyes have drunk-- _50
. . .
Fiordispina and her nurse are now
Upon the steps of the high portico,
Under the withered arm of Media
She flings her glowing arm
. . .
. . .
step by step and stair by stair, _55
That withered woman, gray and white and brown--
More like a trunk by lichens overgrown
Than anything which once could have been human.
And ever as she goes the palsied woman
. . .
'How slow and painfully you seem to walk, _60
Poor Media! you tire yourself with talk. '
'And well it may,
Fiordispina, dearest--well-a-day!
You are hastening to a marriage-bed;
I to the grave! '--'And if my love were dead, _65
Unless my heart deceives me, I would lie
Beside him in my shroud as willingly
As now in the gay night-dress Lilla wrought. '
'Fie, child! Let that unseasonable thought
Not be remembered till it snows in June; _70
Such fancies are a music out of tune
With the sweet dance your heart must keep to-night.
What! would you take all beauty and delight
Back to the Paradise from which you sprung,
And leave to grosser mortals? -- _75
And say, sweet lamb, would you not learn the sweet
And subtle mystery by which spirits meet?
Who knows whether the loving game is played,
When, once of mortal [vesture] disarrayed,
The naked soul goes wandering here and there _80
Through the wide deserts of Elysian air?
The violet dies not till it'--
NOTES:
_11 to 1824; two editions 1839.
