The Complete Poetical Works, vol 2 | Page 9

shocked by others, yet the
effect of the whole was fascinating and delightful.
"Mont Blanc" was inspired by a view of that mountain and its
surrounding peaks and valleys, as he lingered on the Bridge of Arve on
his way through the Valley of Chamouni. Shelley makes the following
mention of this poem in his publication of the "History of a Six Weeks'
Tour, and Letters from Switzerland": 'The poem entitled "Mont Blanc"
is written by the author of the two letters from Chamouni and Vevai. It
was composed under the immediate impression of the deep and
powerful feelings excited by the objects which it attempts to describe;
and, as an undisciplined overflowing of the soul, rests its claim to
approbation on an attempt to imitate the untamable wildness and
inaccessible solemnity from which those feelings sprang.'

This was an eventful year, and less time was given to study than usual.
In the list of his reading I find, in Greek, Theocritus, the "Prometheus"
of Aeschylus, several of Plutarch's "Lives", and the works of Lucian. In
Latin, Lucretius, Pliny's "Letters", the "Annals" and "Germany" of
Tacitus. In French, the "History of the French Revolution" by
Lacretelle. He read for the first time, this year, Montaigne's "Essays",
and regarded them ever after as one of the most delightful and
instructive books in the world. The list is scanty in English works:
Locke's "Essay", "Political Justice", and Coleridge's "Lay Sermon",
form nearly the whole. It was his frequent habit to read aloud to me in
the evening; in this way we read, this year, the New Testament,
"Paradise Lost", Spenser's "Faery Queen", and "Don Quixote".
***
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1817.
MARIANNE'S DREAM.
[Composed at Marlow, 1817. Published in Hunt's "Literary
Pocket-Book", 1819, and reprinted in "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]
1.
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair,
And said, A boon, a boon, I
pray!
I know the secrets of the air,
And things are lost in the glare
of day,
Which I can make the sleeping see, _5 If they will put their
trust in me.
2.
And thou shalt know of things unknown,
If thou wilt let me rest
between
The veiny lids, whose fringe is thrown
Over thine eyes so
dark and sheen: _10 And half in hope, and half in fright,
The Lady
closed her eyes so bright.
3.
At first all deadly shapes were driven
Tumultuously across her
sleep,
And o'er the vast cope of bending heaven _15 All
ghastly-visaged clouds did sweep;
And the Lady ever looked to spy

If the golden sun shone forth on high.

4.
And as towards the east she turned,
She saw aloft in the morning
air, _20 Which now with hues of sunrise burned,
A great black
Anchor rising there;
And wherever the Lady turned her eyes,
It
hung before her in the skies.
5.
The sky was blue as the summer sea, _25 The depths were
cloudless overhead,
The air was calm as it could be,
There was no
sight or sound of dread,
But that black Anchor floating still
Over
the piny eastern hill. _30
6.
The Lady grew sick with a weight of fear
To see that Anchor
ever hanging,
And veiled her eyes; she then did hear
The sound as
of a dim low clanging,
And looked abroad if she might know _35
Was it aught else, or but the flow
Of the blood in her own veins, to
and fro.
7.
There was a mist in the sunless air,
Which shook as it were with
an earthquake's shock,
But the very weeds that blossomed there _40
Were moveless, and each mighty rock
Stood on its basis steadfastly;

The Anchor was seen no more on high.
8.
But piled around, with summits hid
In lines of cloud at intervals,
_45 Stood many a mountain pyramid
Among whose everlasting walls

Two mighty cities shone, and ever
Through the red mist their
domes did quiver.
9.
On two dread mountains, from whose crest, _50 Might seem, the
eagle, for her brood,
Would ne'er have hung her dizzy nest,
Those
tower-encircled cities stood.
A vision strange such towers to see,

Sculptured and wrought so gorgeously, _55 Where human art could
never be.
10.
And columns framed of marble white,
And giant fanes, dome
over dome
Piled, and triumphant gates, all bright
With
workmanship, which could not come _60 From touch of mortal

instrument,
Shot o'er the vales, or lustre lent
From its own shapes
magnificent.
11.
But still the Lady heard that clang
Filling the wide air far away;
_65 And still the mist whose light did hang
Among the mountains
shook alway,
So that the Lady's heart beat fast,
As half in joy, and
half aghast,
On those high domes her look she cast. _70
12.
Sudden, from out that city sprung
A light that made the earth
grow red;
Two flames that each with quivering tongue
Licked its
high domes, and overhead
Among those mighty towers and fanes _75
Dropped fire, as a volcano rains
Its sulphurous ruin on the plains.
13.
And hark! a rush as if the deep
Had burst its bonds; she looked
behind
And saw over the western steep _80 A raging flood