Page:Shelley The Daemon of the World.djvu/42

 By everlasting snow-storms round the poles, Where matter dared nor vegetate nor live, But ceaseless frost round the vast solitude Bound its broad zone of stillness, are unloosed; And fragrant zephyrs there from spicy isles Ruffle the placid ocean-deep, that rolls Its broad, bright surges to the sloping sand. Whose roar is wakened into echoings sweet To murmur through the heaven-breathing groves And melodize with man's blest nature there. The vast tract of the parched and sandy waste Now teems with countless rills and shady woods, Corn-fields and pastures and white cottages; And where the startled wilderness did hear A savage conqueror stained in kindred blood, Hymning his victory, or the milder snake Crushing the bones of some frail antelope Within his brazen folds—the dewy lawn. Offering sweet incense to the sun-rise, smiles