3. 
Her voice is hovering o’er my soul—­it lingers
O’ershadowing it with soft and lulling wings,
The blood and life within those snowy fingers
Teach witchcraft to the instrumental strings. 
My brain is wild, my breath comes quick—­ 25
The blood is listening in my frame,
And thronging shadows, fast and thick,
Fall on my overflowing eyes;
My heart is quivering like a flame;
As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, 30
I am dissolved in these consuming ecstasies.

4. 
I have no life, Constantia, now, but thee,
Whilst, like the world-surrounding air, thy song
Flows on, and fills all things with melody.—­
Now is thy voice a tempest swift and strong, 35
On which, like one in trance upborne,
Secure o’er rocks and waves I sweep,
Rejoicing like a cloud of morn. 
Now ’tis the breath of summer night,
Which when the starry waters sleep,
Round western isles, with incense-blossoms bright, 40
Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight.

STANZAS 1 AND 2.

As restored by Mr. C.D.  Locock.

1. 
Cease, cease—­for such wild lessons madmen learn
Thus to be lost, and thus to sink and die
Perchance were death indeed!—­Constantia turn
In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie
Even though the sounds its voice that were 5
Between [thy] lips are laid to sleep: 
Within thy breath, and on thy hair
Like odour, it is [lingering] yet
And from thy touch like fire doth leap—­
Even while I write, my burning cheeks are wet—­ 10
Alas, that the torn heart can bleed but not forget.

2.
[A deep and] breathless awe like the swift change
Of dreams unseen but felt in youthful slumbers
Wild sweet yet incommunicably strange
Thou breathest now in fast ascending numbers... 15

***

TO CONSTANTIA. [Dated 1817 by Mrs. Shelley, and printed by her in the “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.  A copy exists amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian.  See Mr. C.D.  Locock’s “Examination”, etc., 1903, page 46.]

1. 
The rose that drinks the fountain dew
In the pleasant air of noon,
Grows pale and blue with altered hue—­
In the gaze of the nightly moon;
For the planet of frost, so cold and bright, 5
Makes it wan with her borrowed light.

2. 
Such is my heart—­roses are fair,
And that at best a withered blossom;
But thy false care did idly wear
Its withered leaves in a faithless bosom; 10
And fed with love, like air and dew,
Its growth—­

NOTES:  1 The rose]The red Rose B. 2 pleasant]fragrant B. 6 her omitted B.