Books > Old Books > The Golden Treasury (1932)


Page 252

BOOK FOURTH
252 TO A LADY, WITH A GUITAR

Ariel to Miranda:-Take
This slave of Music, for the sake
Of him who is the slave of thee;
And teach it all the harmony
In which thou canst, and only thou,
Make the delighted spirit glow,
Till joy denies itself again
And, too intense, is turn'd to pain.
For by permission and command
Of thine own Prince Ferdinand,
Poor Ariel sends this silent token
Of more than ever can be spoken;
Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who
From life to life must still pursue
Your happiness; for thus alone
Can Ariel ever find his own.
From Prospero's enchanted cell,
As the mighty verses tell,
To the throne of Naples he
Lit you o'er the trackless sea,
Flitting on, your prow before,
Like a living meteor.
When you die, the silent Moon
In her interlunar swoon
Is not sadder in her cell
Than deserted Ariel.
When you live again on earth,
Like an unseen star of birth
Ariel guides you o'er the sea
Of life from your nativity.
Many changes have been run
Since Ferdinand and you begun
Your course of love, and Ariel still
Has tracked your steps and served your will.
Now in humbler, happier lot,
This is all remember'd not;
And now, alas! the poor sprite is
Imprisoned for some fault of his
In a body like a grave;
From you he only dares to crave,
For his service and his sorrow,
A smile to-day, a song to-morrow.

The artist who this idol wrought
To echo all harmonious thought,
Felled a tree, while on the steep
The woods were in their winter sleep,
Rocked in that repose divine
On the wind-swept Apennine;
And dreaming, some of Autumn past,
And some of Spring approaching fast,
And some of April buds and showers,
And some of songs in July bowers,
And all of love; and so this tree,
O that such our death may be!
Died in sleep, and felt no pain,
To live in happier form again:
From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star,
The artist wrought this loved Guitar;
And taught it justly to reply
To all who question skilfully
In language gentle as thine own;
Whispering in enamoured tone
Sweet oracles of woods and dells,
And summer winds in sylvan cells;
-For it had learnt all harmonies
Of the plains and of the skies,
Of the forests and the mountains,
And the many-voiced fountains;
The clearest echoes of the hills,
The softest notes of falling rills,
The melodies of birds and bees,
The murmuring of summer seas,
And pattering rain, and breathing dew
And airs of evening; and it knew
That seldom-heard mysterious sound
Which, driven on its diurnal round,
As it floats through boundless day,
Our world enkindles gn its way:
-All this it knows, but will not tell
To those who cannot question well
The spirit that inhabits it;
It talks according to the wit
Of its companions; and no more
Is heard than has been felt before
By those who tempt it to betray
These secrets of an elder day.
But, sweetly as its answers will
Flatter hands of perfect skill,
It keeps its highest holiest tone
For our beloved friend alone.
P. B. SHELLEY.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE Ariel to Miranda:-Take This slave of Music, for what is sake Of him who is what is slave of thee; And teach it all what is harmony In which thou canst, and only thou, Make what is delighted spirit glow, Till joy denies itself again And, too intense, is turn'd to pain. For by permission and command Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, Poor Ariel sends this silent token Of more than ever can be spoken; Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who From life to life must still pursue Your happiness; for thus alone Can Ariel ever find his own. From Prospero's enchanted cell, As what is mighty verses tell, To what is throne of Naples he Lit you o'er what is trackless sea, Flitting on, your prow before, Like a living meteor. When you die, what is silent Moon In her interlunar swoon Is not sadder in her cell Than deserted Ariel. When you live again on earth, Like an unseen star of birth Ariel guides you o'er what is sea Of life from your nativity. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Golden Treasury (1932) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 252 where is strong BOOK FOURTH where is strong 252 TO A LADY, WITH A GUITAR where is p align="justify" Ariel to Miranda:-Take This slave of Music, for what is sake Of him who is what is slave of thee; And teach it all what is harmony In which thou canst, and only thou, Make what is delighted spirit glow, Till joy denies itself again And, too intense, is turn'd to pain. For by permission and command Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, Poor Ariel sends this silent token Of more than ever can be spoken; Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who From life to life must still pursue Your happiness; for thus alone Can Ariel ever find his own. From Prospero's enchanted cell, As what is mighty verses tell, To what is throne of Naples he Lit you o'er what is trackless sea, Flitting on, your prow before, Like a living meteor. When you die, the silent Moon In her interlunar swoon Is not sadder in her cell Than deserted Ariel. When you live again on earth, Like an unseen star of birth Ariel guides you o'er what is sea Of life from your nativity. Many changes have been run Since Ferdinand and you begun Your course of love, and Ariel still Has tracked your steps and served your will. Now in humbler, happier lot, This is all remember'd not; And now, alas! what is poor sprite is Imprisoned for some fault of his In a body like a grave; From you he only dares to crave, For his service and his sorrow, A smile to-day, a song to-morrow. what is artist who this idol wrought To echo all harmonious thought, Felled a tree, while on what is steep what is woods were in their winter sleep, Rocked in that repose divine On what is wind-swept Apennine; And dreaming, some of Autumn past, And some of Spring approaching fast, And some of April buds and showers, And some of songs in July bowers, And all of love; and so this tree, O that such our what time is it may be! Died in sleep, and felt no pain, To live in happier form again: From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star, what is artist wrought this loved Guitar; And taught it justly to reply To all who question skilfully In language gentle as thine own; Whispering in enamoured tone Sweet oracles of woods and dells, And summer winds in sylvan cells; -For it had learnt all harmonies Of what is plains and of what is skies, Of what is forests and what is mountains, And what is many-voiced fountains; what is clearest echoes of what is hills, what is softest notes of falling rills, what is melodies of birds and bees, what is murmuring of summer seas, And pattering rain, and breathing dew And airs of evening; and it knew That seldom-heard mysterious sound Which, driven on its diurnal round, As it floats through boundless day, Our world enkindles gn its way: -All this it knows, but will not tell To those who cannot question well what is spirit that inhabits it; It talks according to what is wit Of its companions; and no more Is heard than has been felt before By those who tempt it to betray These secrets of an elder day. But, sweetly as its answers will Flatter hands of perfect s what time is it , It keeps its highest holiest tone For our beloved friend alone. P. B. SHELLEY. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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