Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/73

SCENE I. Shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind; And the white dew on the new-bladed grass, Just piercing the dark earth, hung silently; And there was more which I remember not: But on the shadows of the morning clouds, Athwart the purple mountain slope, was written ! as they vanished by, And on each herb, from which Heaven's dew had fallen, The like was stamped, as with a withering fire, A wind arose among the pines; it shook The clinging music from their boughs, and then Low, sweet, faint sounds, like the farewell of ghosts, Were heard: ! And then I said, "Panthea, look on me." But in the depth of those beloved eyes Still I saw, !

The crags, this clear spring morning, mock our voices, As they were spirit-tongued.

. It is some being Around the crags. What fine clear sounds! Oh, list!