Page:The complete poetical works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, including materials never before printed in any edition of the poems.djvu/788

758 Tinging those fleecy clouds

That canopied the dawn.

Seemed it, that the chariot's way

Lay through the midst of an immense concave,

Radiant with million constellations, tinged

With shades of infinite colour,

And semicircled with a belt

Flashing incessant meteors.

The magic car moved on.

As they approached their goal

The coursers seemed to gather speed;

The sea no longer was distinguished; earth

Appeared a vast and shadowy sphere;

The sun's unclouded orb

Rolled through the black concave;

Its rays of rapid light

Parted around the chariot's swifter course,

And fell, like ocean's feathery spray

Dashed from the boiling surge

Before a vessel's prow.

The magic car moved on.

Earth's distant orb appeared

The smallest light that twinkles in the heaven;

Whilst round the chariot's way

Innumerable systems rolled,

And countless spheres diffused

An ever-varying glory.

It was a sight of wonder: some

Were hornèd like the crescent moon;

Some shed a mild and silver beam

Like Hesperus o'er the western sea;

Some dashed athwart with trains of flame,

Like worlds to death and ruin driven;

Some shone like suns, and, as the chariot passed,

Eclipsed all other light.

Spirit of Nature! here!

In this interminable wilderness

Of worlds, at whose immensity

Even soaring fancy staggers,

Here is thy fitting temple.

Yet not the lightest leaf

That quivers to the passing breeze

Is less instinct with thee:

Yet not the meanest worm

That lurks in graves and fattens on the dead

Less shares thy eternal breath.

Spirit of Nature! thou!

Imperishable as this scene,

Here is thy fitting temple.

II

solitude hath ever led thy steps

To the wild Ocean's echoing shore,

And thou hast lingered there,

Until the sun's broad orb

Seemed resting on the burnished wave,

Thou must have marked the lines

Of purple gold, that motionless

Hung o'er the sinking sphere:

Thou must have marked the billowy clouds

Edged with intolerable radiancy

Towering like rocks of jet

Crowned with a diamond wreath.

And yet there is a moment,

When the sun's highest point

Peeps like a star o'er Ocean's western edge,

When those far clouds of feathery gold,

Shaded with deepest purple, gleam

Like islands on a dark blue sea;

Then has thy fancy soared above the earth,

And furled its wearied wing

Within the Fairy's fane.

Yet not the golden islands

Gleaming in yon flood of light,

Nor the feathery curtains

Stretching o'er the sun's bright couch,

Nor the burnished Ocean waves

Paving that gorgeous dome,

So fair, so wonderful a sight

As Mab's aethereal palace could afford.

Yet likest evening's vault, that faery Hall!

As Heaven, low resting on the wave, it spread

Its floors of flashing light,

Its vast and azure dome,