Page:The complete poetical works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, including materials never before printed in any edition of the poems.djvu/640

610 See, the bounds of the air are shaken— Night is coming! The red swift clouds of the hurricane Yon declining sun have overtaken, The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain— Night is coming!

I see the light, and I hear the sound; I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark. With the calm within and the lignt around Which makes night day: And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark, Look from thy dull earth, slumber-hound, My moon-like flight thou then mayst mark On high, far away. Some say there is a precipice Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice Mid Alpine mountains; And that the languid storm pursuing That winged shape, for ever flies Round those hoar branches, aye renewing Its aëry fountains.

Some say when nights are dry and clear, And the death-dews sleep on the morass, Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller, Which make night day: And a silver shape like his early love doth pass Upborne by her wild and glittering hair, And when he awakes on the fragrant grass, He finds night day.

within the City disinterred ; And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls Of spirits passing through the streets; and heard