Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/30

26 'Tis scarce like sound; it tingles thro' the frame As lightning tingles, hovering ere it strike. Speak, Spirit! from thine inorganic voice I only know that thou art moving near And love. How cursed I him?

How canst thou hear Who knowest not the language of the dead?

Thou art a living spirit; speak as they.

I dare not speak like life, lest Heaven's fell King Should hear, and link me to some wheel of pain More torturing than the one whereon I roll. Subtle thou art and good; and though the Gods Hear not this voice, yet thou art more than God, Being wise and kind: earnestly hearken now.

Obscurely thro' my brain, like shadows dim, Sweep awful thoughts, rapid and thick. I feel Faint, like one mingled in entwining love; Yet 't is not pleasure.

No, thou canst not hear; Thou art immortal, and this tongue is known Only to those who die.

And what art thou, O melancholy Voice?

I am the Earth,