The Mask of Anarchy [Excerpt]

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1792-1822
         LXXIX
"Stand ye calm and resolute, 
Like a forest close and mute,
With folded arms and looks which are
Weapons of unvanquished war, 

         LXXX
"And let Panic, who outspeeds
The career of armèd steeds
Pass, a disregarded shade
Through your phalanx undismayed.

         LXXXI
"Let the laws of your own land, 
Good or ill, between ye stand
Hand to hand, and foot to foot, 
Arbiters of the dispute,

         LXXXII
"The old laws of England—they
Whose reverend heads with age are gray, 
Children of a wiser day;
And whose solemn voice must be
Thine own echo—Liberty!

         LXXXIII
"On those who first should violate
Such sacred heralds in their state
Rest the blood that must ensue, 
And it will not rest on you.

         LXXXIV
"And if then the tyrants dare
Let them ride among you there, 
Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew,—
What they like, that let them do.

         LXXXV
"With folded arms and steady eyes, 
And little fear, and less surprise, 
Look upon them as they slay
Till their rage has died away.

         LXXXVI
"Then they will return with shame
To the place from which they came, 
And the blood thus shed will speak
In hot blushes on their cheek.

         LXXXVII
"Every woman in the land
Will point at them as they stand—
They will hardly dare to greet
Their acquaintance on the street.

         LXXXVIII
"And the bold, true warriors
Who have hugged Danger in wars
Will turn to those who would be free, 
Ashamed of such base company.

         LXXXIX
"And that slaughter to the Nation
Shall steam up like inspiration, 
Eloquent, oracular;
A volcano heard afar.

         XC
"And these words shall then become
Like Oppression's thundered doom
Ringing through each heart and brain, 
Heard again—again—again—

         XCI
"Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number—
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you—
Ye are many—they are few."

More by Percy Bysshe Shelley

To the Moon [fragment]

   Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing Heaven, and gazing on the earth,
   Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,--
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Adonais, 49-52, [Go thou to Rome]

                  49

    Go thou to Rome,—at once the Paradise,
    The grave, the city, and the wilderness;
    And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise,
    And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress
    The bones of Desolation's nakedness
    Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead
    Thy footsteps to a slope of green access
    Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead
A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread;

                  50
				  
    And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time
    Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand;
    And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime,
    Pavilioning the dust of him who planned
    This refuge for his memory, doth stand
    Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath,
    A field is spread, on which a newer band
    Have pitched in Heaven's smile their camp of death,
Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath.

                  51
				  
    Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet
    To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned
    Its charge to each; and if the seal is set,
    Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,
    Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find
    Thine own well full, if thou returnest home,
    Of tears and gall. From the world's bitter wind
    Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb.
What Adonais is, why fear we to become?

                  52
				  
    The One remains, the many change and pass;
    Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
    Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
    Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
    Until Death tramples it to fragments.—Die,
    If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
    Follow where all is fled!—Rome's azure sky,
    Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak
The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.

Love's Philosophy

 
The fountains mingle with the river   
And the rivers with the ocean,   
The winds of heaven mix for ever   
With a sweet emotion;   
Nothing in the world is single, 
All things by a law divine   
In one another's being mingle—   
Why not I with thine?   
   
See the mountains kiss high heaven,   
And the waves clasp one another; 
No sister-flower would be forgiven   
If it disdain'd its brother;   
And the sunlight clasps the earth,   
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—   
What is all this sweet work worth 
If thou kiss not me?