ALBANO: Buried in some strange talk. The Duke was leaning, His finger on his brow, his lips unclosed. The Princess sate within the window-seat, _20 And so her face was hid; but on her knee Her hands were clasped, veined, and pale as snow, And quivering--young Tasso, too, was there. MADDALO: Thou seest on whom from thine own worshipped heaven Thou drawest down smiles--they did not rain on thee. _25 MALPIGLIO: Would they were parching lightnings for his sake On whom they fell! *** SONG FOR 'TASSO'. [Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.] 1. I loved--alas! our life is love; But when we cease to breathe and move I do suppose love ceases too. I thought, but not as now I do, Keen thoughts and bright of linked lore, _5 Of all that men had thought before. And all that Nature shows, and more. 2. And still I love and still I think, But strangely, for my heart can drink The dregs of such despair, and live, _10 And love;... And if I think, my thoughts come fast, I mix the present with the past, And each seems uglier than the last. 3. Sometimes I see before me flee _15 A silver spirit's form, like thee, O Leonora, and I sit ...still watching it, Till by the grated casement's ledge It fades, with such a sigh, as sedge _20 Breathes o'er the breezy streamlet's edge. *** INVOCATION TO MISERY. [Published by Medwin, "The Athenaeum", September 8, 1832. Reprinted (as "Misery, a Fragment") by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition. Our text is that of 1839. A pencil copy of this poem is amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian Library. See Mr. C.D. Locock's "Examination", etc., 1903, page 38. The readings of this copy are indicated by the letter B. in the footnotes.] 1. Come, be happy!--sit near me, Shadow-vested Misery: Coy, unwilling, silent bride, Mourning in thy robe of pride, Desolation--deified! _5 2. Come, be happy!--sit near me: Sad as I may seem to thee, I am happier far than thou, Lady, whose imperial brow Is endiademed with woe. _10 3. Misery! we have known each other, Like a sister and a brother Living in the same lone home, Many years--we must live some Hours or ages yet to come. _15 4. 'Tis an evil lot, and yet Let us make the best of it; If love can live when pleasure dies, We two will love, till in our eyes This heart's Hell seem Paradise. _20 5. Come, be happy!--lie thee down On the fresh grass newly mown, Where the Grasshopper doth sing Merrily--one joyous thing In a world of sorrowing! _25