Other flowering isles must be 335
In the sea of Life and Agony: 
Other spirits float and flee
O’er that gulf:  even now, perhaps,
On some rock the wild wave wraps,
With folded wings they waiting sit 340
For my bark, to pilot it
To some calm and blooming cove,
Where for me, and those I love,
May a windless bower be built,
Far from passion, pain, and guilt, 345
In a dell mid lawny hills,
Which the wild sea-murmur fills,
And soft sunshine, and the sound
Of old forests echoing round,
And the light and smell divine 350
Of all flowers that breathe and shine: 
We may live so happy there,
That the Spirits of the Air,
Envying us, may even entice
To our healing Paradise 355
The polluting multitude;
But their rage would be subdued
By that clime divine and calm,
And the winds whose wings rain balm
On the uplifted soul, and leaves 360
Under which the bright sea heaves;
While each breathless interval
In their whisperings musical
The inspired soul supplies
With its own deep melodies; 365
And the love which heals all strife
Circling, like the breath of life,
All things in that sweet abode
With its own mild brotherhood,
They, not it, would change; and soon 370
Every sprite beneath the moon
Would repent its envy vain,
And the earth grow young again.

NOTES:  54 seamews 1819; seamew’s Rossetti. 115 Sun-girt]Sea-girt cj.  Palgrave. 165 From your dust new 1819;
     From thy dust shall Rowfant manuscript (heading of lines 167-205).
175 songs 1819; sons cj.  Forman. 278 a 1819; wanting, 1839.

***

SCENE FROM ‘TASSO’.

[Composed, 1818.  Published by Dr. Garnett, “Relics of Shelley”, 1862.]

MADDALO, A COURTIER. 
MALPIGLIO, A POET. 
PIGNA, A MINISTER. 
ALBANO, AN USHER.

MADDALO: 
No access to the Duke!  You have not said
That the Count Maddalo would speak with him?

PIGNA: 
Did you inform his Grace that Signor Pigna
Waits with state papers for his signature?

MALPIGLIO: 
The Lady Leonora cannot know 5
That I have written a sonnet to her fame,
In which I ...  Venus and Adonis. 
You should not take my gold and serve me not.

ALBANO: 
In truth I told her, and she smiled and said,
’If I am Venus, thou, coy Poesy, 10
Art the Adonis whom I love, and he
The Erymanthian boar that wounded him.’ 
O trust to me, Signor Malpiglio,
Those nods and smiles were favours worth the zechin.