Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/138

134 Who part with sighs that they may meet in smiles, Turning their dear disunion to an isle Of lovely grief, a wood of sweet sad thoughts; Two visions of strange radiance float upon The ocean-like enchantment of strong sound, Which flows intenser, keener, deeper yet Under the ground and through the windless air.

I see a chariot like that thinnest boat, In which the mother of the months is borne By ebbing night into her western cave, When she upsprings from interlunar dreams, O'er which is curved an orblike canopy Of gentle darkness, and the hills and woods Distinctly seen through that dusk airy veil, Regard like shapes in an enchanter's glass; Its wheels are solid clouds, azure and gold, Such as the genii of the thunder-storm, Pile on the floor of the illumined sea When the sun rushes under it; they roll And move and grow as with an inward wind; Within it sits a winged infant, white Its countenance, like the whiteness of bright snow, Its plumes are as feathers of sunny frost, Its limbs gleam white, through the wind-flowing folds