Brooking no eye to witness their foul shame, 280
Which human hearts must feel, while human tongues
Tremble to speak, they did rage horribly,
Breathing in self-contempt fierce blasphemies
Against the Daemon of the World, and high
Hurling their armed hands where the pure Spirit, 285
Serene and inaccessibly secure,
Stood on an isolated pinnacle. 
The flood of ages combating below,
The depth of the unbounded universe
Above, and all around 290
Necessity’s unchanging harmony.

PART 2.

[Sections 8 and 9 of “Queen Mab” rehandled by Shelley.  First printed in 1876 by Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B., by whose kind permission it is here reproduced.  See Editor’s Introductory Note to “Queen Mab".]

O happy Earth! reality of Heaven! 
To which those restless powers that ceaselessly
Throng through the human universe aspire;
Thou consummation of all mortal hope! 295
Thou glorious prize of blindly-working will! 
Whose rays, diffused throughout all space and time,
Verge to one point and blend for ever there: 
Of purest spirits thou pure dwelling-place! 
Where care and sorrow, impotence and crime, 300
Languor, disease, and ignorance dare not come: 
O happy Earth, reality of Heaven!

Genius has seen thee in her passionate dreams,
And dim forebodings of thy loveliness,
Haunting the human heart, have there entwined 305
Those rooted hopes, that the proud Power of Evil
Shall not for ever on this fairest world
Shake pestilence and war, or that his slaves
With blasphemy for prayer, and human blood
For sacrifice, before his shrine for ever 310
In adoration bend, or Erebus
With all its banded fiends shall not uprise
To overwhelm in envy and revenge
The dauntless and the good, who dare to hurl
Defiance at his throne, girt tho’ it be 315
With Death’s omnipotence.  Thou hast beheld
His empire, o’er the present and the past;
It was a desolate sight—­now gaze on mine,
Futurity.  Thou hoary giant Time,
Render thou up thy half-devoured babes,—­ 320
And from the cradles of eternity,
Where millions lie lulled to their portioned sleep
By the deep murmuring stream of passing things,
Tear thou that gloomy shroud.—­Spirit, behold
Thy glorious destiny!