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! Fond wretch, all dead, those vacant names alone, This most familiar scene, my pain These tombs alone remain. II. Misery, my sweetest friend-oh! weep no more! Was even as bright and calm, but transitory, These tombs alone remain. TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. I. THE billows on the beach are leaping around it, The bark is weak and frail, The sea looks black, and the clouds that bound it Darkly strew the gale. Come with me, thou delightful child, Come with me, though the wave is wild, And the winds are loose, we must not stay, II. They have taken thy brother and sister dear, To a blighting faith and a cause of crime Because we are fearless and free. III. Come thou, beloved as thou art ; Another sleepeth still Near thy sweet mother's anxious heart, Which thou with joy shalt fill, With fairest smiles of wonder thrown The dearest playmate unto thee. IV. Fear not the tyrants will rule for ever, They stand on the brink of that raging river, V. Rest, rest, and shriek not, thou gentle child! Me and thy mother- well we know This hour vill ʼn by nemcry Be a free of is forgotten eng We scen sal wel by the mure sex Of serene and giden kniv, Or Greece, the Mother of the fee: And I will each inne mit re Tulpen fuse herces d I her own language, and vil nouid The growing sirt n he fame Cf Green 'cre, hat by such name A parmer's birthright hou mays Sam? Eue nen vie can, and men who pray. And men who mi ike zee: An equal passion to repay They are not coy like me. III. Or seek some slave of power and gold, Thy love will move that bigot cold IV. A passion like the one I prove I hate thy want of truth and love- TO MARY O MARY dear, that you were here In the ivy bower disconsolate ; |