by Percy Bysshe Shelley
To Emilia Viviani
To -

The Fugitives

Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems". 1824.

 1. The waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar-spray is dancing- Away!  
 The whirlwind is rolling, The thunder is tolling, The forest is swinging, The minster bells ringing- Come away!  
 The Earth is like Ocean, Wreck-strewn and in motion: Bird, beast, man and worm Have crept out of the storm- Come away!  
 2. 'Our boat has one sail And the helmsman is pale;- A bold pilot I trow, Who should follow us now,'- Shouted he-  
 And she cried: 'Ply the oar! Put off gaily from shore!'- As she spoke, bolts of death Mixed with hail, specked their path O'er the sea.  
 And from isle, tower and rock, The blue beacon-cloud broke, And though dumb in the blast, The red cannon flashed fast From the lee.  
 3. And 'Fear'st thou?' and 'Fear'st thou?' And Seest thou?' and 'Hear'st thou?' And 'Drive we not free O'er the terrible sea, I and thou?'  
 One boat-cloak did cover The loved and the lover- Their blood beats one measure, They murmur proud pleasure Soft and low;-  
 While around the lashed Ocean, Like mountains in motion, Is withdrawn and uplifted, Sunk, shattered and shifted To and fro.  
 4. In the court of the fortress Beside the pale portress, Like a bloodhound well beaten The bridegroom stands, eaten By shame;  
 On the topmost watch-turret, As a death-boding spirit Stands the gray tyrant father, To his voice the mad weather Seems tame;  
 And with curses as wild As e'er clung to child, He devotes to the blast, The best, loveliest and last Of his name!  
 NOTES: _28 And though]Though editions 1839. _57 clung]cling editions 1839.