File:With Shelley in Italy - being a selection of the poems and letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which have to do with his life in Italy from 1818 to 1822 (1905) (14778978101).jpg

Identifier: withshelleyinitashelrich (find matches)
Title: With Shelley in Italy : being a selection of the poems and letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which have to do with his life in Italy from 1818 to 1822
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors: Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 1792-1822 McMahan, Anna Benneson
Subjects: Poetry of places -- Italy Italy -- Description and travel Poetry
Publisher: Chicago : McClurg
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Oh, vain endeavour ! If on his own high will, a willing slave.He has enthroned the oppression and the oppressor.What if earth can clothe and feedAmplest millions at their need.And power in thought be as the tree within the seed ?Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor, Driving on fiery wings to Natures throne.Checks the great mother stooping to caress her,And cries : Give me, thy child, dominionOver all height and depth ? if Life can breed New wants, and Wealth, from those who toil and groanRend, of thy gifts and hers, a thousand-fold for one ? XVIII Come Thou ! but lead out of the inmost cave Of mans deep spirit, as the morning-starBeckons the Sun from the Loan wave. Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her carSelf-moving, like cloud charioted by flame;Comes she not, and come ye not,Eulers of eternal thought.To judge, with solemn truth, lifes ill-apportioned lot ?Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame Of what has been, the Hope of what will be?O Liberty ! if such could be thy name( 186)
Text Appearing After Image:
THE YEARS 1820 AND 1821 Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee:If thine or theirs were treasures to be boughtBy blood or tears, have not the wise and freeWept tears, and blood like tears ? The solemnharmony XIX Paused, and the Spirit of that mighty singing To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn;Then, as a wild swan, when sublimely winging Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of dawn.Sinks headlong through the aerial golden lightOn the heavy sounding plain,When the bolt has pierced its brain;As Summer clouds dissolve, unburthened of their rain ;As a far taper fades with fading night, As a brief insect dies with dying day,My song, its pinions disarrayed of might,Drooped; o^er it closed the echoes far awayOf the great voice which did its flight sustain.As waves which lately paved his watery wayHiss round a drowners head in their tempestuous play. Naples, Jan. 26, 1819.^ Since you last heard from me, we have been to see Pompeii, and are waiting now for the return of Spring weather,

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