15. 
Yes, the despair which bids a father groan,
And cry, ’My children are no longer mine—­
The blood within those veins may be mine own,
But—­Tyrant—­their polluted souls are thine;—­ 60

16. 
I curse thee—­though I hate thee not.—­O slave! 
If thou couldst quench the earth-consuming Hell
Of which thou art a daemon, on thy grave
This curse should be a blessing.  Fare thee well!

NOTES:  9 Angel which aye cancelled by Shelley for Fate which ever Fa. 24 promise of a 1839, 2nd edition; promises of 1839, 1st edition. 27 lore]love Fa. 32 and saddest]the saddest Fa. 36 yet not fatherless! cancelled by Shelley for why not fatherless?  Fa. 41-44 By...built ‘crossed by Shelley and marked dele by Mrs. Shelley’
        (Woodberry) Fa.
50 arts and snares 1839, 1st edition;
    snares and arts Harvard Coll. manuscript;
    snares and nets Fa.;
    acts and snares 1839, 2nd edition.
59 those]their Fa.

***

TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley (1, 5, 6), “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition; in full, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.  A transcript is extant in Mrs. Shelley’s hand.]

1. 
The billows on the beach are leaping around it,
The bark is weak and frail,
The sea looks black, and the clouds that bound it
Darkly strew the gale. 
Come with me, thou delightful child,
Come with me, though the wave is wild, 5
And the winds are loose, we must not stay,
Or the slaves of the law may rend thee away.

2. 
They have taken thy brother and sister dear,
They have made them unfit for thee; 10
They have withered the smile and dried the tear
Which should have been sacred to me. 
To a blighting faith and a cause of crime
They have bound them slaves in youthly prime,
And they will curse my name and thee 15
Because we fearless are and free.

3. 
Come thou, beloved as thou art;
Another sleepeth still
Near thy sweet mother’s anxious heart,
Which thou with joy shalt fill, 20
With fairest smiles of wonder thrown
On that which is indeed our own,
And which in distant lands will be
The dearest playmate unto thee.

4. 
Fear not the tyrants will rule for ever, 25
Or the priests of the evil faith;
They stand on the brink of that raging river,
Whose waves they have tainted with death. 
It is fed from the depth of a thousand dells,
Around them it foams and rages and swells; 30
And their swords and their sceptres I floating see,
Like wrecks on the surge of eternity.