FROM THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THE POEM TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. [Published in Dr. Garnett's "Relics of Shelley", 1862.] 1. The world is now our dwelling-place; Where'er the earth one fading trace Of what was great and free does keep, That is our home!... Mild thoughts of man's ungentle race _5 Shall our contented exile reap; For who that in some happy place His own free thoughts can freely chase By woods and waves can clothe his face In cynic smiles? Child! we shall weep. _10 2. This lament, The memory of thy grievous wrong Will fade... But genius is omnipotent To hallow... _15 *** ON FANNY GODWIN. [Published by Mrs. Shelley, among the poems of 1817, in "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.] Her voice did quiver as we parted, Yet knew I not that heart was broken From which it came, and I departed Heeding not the words then spoken. Misery--O Misery, _5 This world is all too wide for thee. *** LINES. [Published by Mrs. Shelley with the date 'November 5th, 1817,' in "Posthumous Poems", 1824.] 1. That time is dead for ever, child! Drowned, frozen, dead for ever! We look on the past And stare aghast At the spectres wailing, pale and ghast, _5 Of hopes which thou and I beguiled To death on life's dark river. 2. The stream we gazed on then rolled by; Its waves are unreturning; But we yet stand _10 In a lone land, Like tombs to mark the memory Of hopes and fears, which fade and flee In the light of life's dim morning. *** DEATH. [Published by Mrs. Shelley in "Posthumous Poems", 1824.] 1. They die--the dead return not--Misery Sits near an open grave and calls them over, A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye-- They are the names of kindred, friend and lover, Which he so feebly calls--they all are gone-- _5 Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone, This most familiar scene, my pain-- These tombs--alone remain. 2. Misery, my sweetest friend--oh, weep no more! Thou wilt not be consoled--I wonder not! _10 For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot Was even as bright and calm, but transitory, And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary; This most familiar scene, my pain-- _15 These tombs--alone remain. NOTE: _5 calls editions 1839; called 1824. *** OTHO. [Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]