My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim Upon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing, Far far away into the regions dim Of rapture--as a boat, with swift sails winging Its way adown some many-winding river, _5 Speeds through dark forests o'er the waters swinging... NOTES: _3 Far far away B.; Far away 1839. _6 Speeds...swinging B.; omitted 1839. *** A FRAGMENT: TO MUSIC. [Published in "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition. Dated 1817 (Mrs. Shelley).] Silver key of the fountain of tears, Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild; Softest grave of a thousand fears, Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child, Is laid asleep in flowers. _5 *** ANOTHER FRAGMENT: TO MUSIC. [Published in "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition. Dated 1817 (Mrs. Shelley).] No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love.' Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self, Till it becomes all Music murmurs of. *** 'MIGHTY EAGLE'. SUPPOSED TO BE ADDRESSED TO WILLIAM GODWIN. [Published in 1882 ("Poetical Works of P. B. S.") by Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B., by whom it is dated 1817.] 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 _5 The embattled tempests' warning! *** TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR. [Published in part (5-9, 14) by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition (without title); in full 2nd edition (with title). Four transcripts in Mrs. Shelley's hand are extant: two--Leigh Hunt's and Ch. Cowden Clarke's--described by Forman, and two belonging to Mr. C.W. Frederickson of Brooklyn, described by Woodberry ["Poetical Works", Centenary Edition, 3 193-6]. One of the latter (here referred to as Fa) is corrected in Shelley's autograph. A much-corrected draft in Shelley's hand is in the Harvard manuscript book.] 1. Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest Of that foul, knotted, many-headed worm Which rends our Mother's bosom--Priestly Pest! Masked Resurrection of a buried Form! 2. Thy country's curse is on thee! Justice sold, _5 Truth trampled, Nature's landmarks overthrown, And heaps of fraud-accumulated gold, Plead, loud as thunder, at Destruction's throne. 3. And whilst that sure slow Angel which aye stands Watching the beck of Mutability _10 Delays to execute her high commands, And, though a nation weeps, spares thine and thee, 4. Oh, let a father's curse be on thy soul, And let a daughter's hope be on thy tomb; Be both, on thy gray head, a leaden cowl _15 To weigh thee down to thine approaching doom. 5. I curse thee by a parent's outraged love, By hopes long cherished and too lately lost, By gentle feelings thou couldst never prove, By griefs which thy stern nature never crossed; _20