Lines Written in the Bay of Lerici

Published from the Boscombe manuscripts by Dr. Garnett, "Macmillan's Magazine", June, 1862; reprinted, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.

 She left me at the silent time When the moon had ceased to climb The azure path of Heaven's steep, And like an albatross asleep, Balanced on her wings of light,  Hovered in the purple night, Ere she sought her ocean nest In the chambers of the West. She left me, and I stayed alone Thinking over every tone  Which, though silent to the ear, The enchanted heart could hear, Like notes which die when born, but still Haunt the echoes of the hill; And feeling ever-oh, too much!-  The soft vibration of her touch, As if her gentle hand, even now, Lightly trembled on my brow; And thus, although she absent were, Memory gave me all of her  That even Fancy dares to claim:- Her presence had made weak and tame All passions, and I lived alone In the time which is our own; The past and future were forgot,  As they had been, and would be, not. But soon, the guardian angel gone, The daemon reassumed his throne In my faint heart. I dare not speak My thoughts, but thus disturbed and weak  I sat and saw the vessels glide Over the ocean bright and wide, Like spirit-winged chariots sent O'er some serenest element For ministrations strange and far;  As if to some Elysian star Sailed for drink to medicine Such sweet and bitter pain as mine. And the wind that winged their flight From the land came fresh and light,  And the scent of winged flowers, And the coolness of the hours Of dew, and sweet warmth left by day, Were scattered o'er the twinkling bay. And the fisher with his lamp  And spear about the low rocks damp Crept, and struck the fish which came To worship the delusive flame. Too happy they, whose pleasure sought Extinguishes all sense and thought  Of the regret that pleasure leaves, Destroying life alone, not peace! 
 NOTES: _11 though silent Relics 1862; though now silent Mac. Mag. 1862. _31 saw Relics 1862; watched Mac. Mag. 1862.