* • 1 1 ^^ * * « .^ /^Vao v.^'^ /.^^\ "^^-..^ 'Is^^- '^\ <=>i^ ^^ "" .!b^>. ^•^ ^^'^^ v-s' ^-o. Subtleness of Observation (Brooke) ........ 10 " " (Scudder, in Atlantic Monthly, Lxx.) . . .17 Primitive Quality or Mythopreic Power (Brooke) . . . . .11 (Sweet) 13, 15 Pathetic Fallacy (Brooke ; Qnartarly Renew, CLXiv. ; Roden Noel, in Brit- ish Quarterly, Lxxxii. ) . . . . 12 Plai;e in Development of Nature Poetry (Sweet). ..... 13 Shelley and Wordsworth (Sweet) ........ 14 Objectivity (Sweet) ........... 14 ■Cosmic Sympathies (Sweet) . . . . . . . . .14 Yastness of Landscape (Sweet) . . . . . . . . .14 (Scudder) 18 Colour Sense, Analysis of (Sweet) . . . . . . . .16 " " (Scudder) ........ 17 Shelley and Coleridge (Sweet) ......... 17 Shelley and Keats (Scudder) . . . . . . . . .17 Power to Vitalize Abstractions (Palgrave, " Landscape in Poetry" ) . .18 Lack of Human Feeling (Palgrave) . . . . . . . .18 PART II. 1. Analysis of Similes 19, 21 32 2. Extension of Existing Criticism ........ 20 Arrangement of Similes ...... • . . 33-155 I. EXTANT CRITICISM ON SHELLEY'S NATURE POETRY. Growth of his Love for Nature. Professor Dowden, in his "Life of Shelley," refers to Shelley's early indifference for natural beauty. In the midst of the mountains of Cwm Elan, in 1811, Shelley writes to his friend Hogg, " ' This is most divine scenery, but all very dull, stale, flat, and unprofitable ; indeed, the place is a very great bore.' The poet in Shelley at this time was trammelled and taken in the toils by the psychologist and metaphysician. ' (" [Jfe of Shelley," L 165.) "In the summer of 1811 his delight in mountain and vale and stream was tracked and hunted down and done to death by his passion for psychological analysis. ' This country of Wales ' (writing to Miss Hitchener) ' is exceedingly grand ; rocks piled on each other to tremendous heights, rivers formed into cataracts by their projec- tions, and valleys clothed with woods, present an appearance of enchantment. But why do they enchant 1 Why is it more affecting than a plain 1 It cannot be innate ; is it acquired 1 Thus does knowledge lose all the pleasure which involuntarily arises by attempting to arrest the fleeting phantom as it passes. Vain attempt ; like the chemist's ether, it evaporates under our observa- tion ; it flies from all but the slaves of passion and sickly sensibility who will not analyze a feeling.' And again, 'Nature is here marked with the most impressive characters of loveliness and grandeur. Once I was tremulously alive to tones and scenes ; the habit of analyzing feelings, I fear, does not agree with this. It is spontaneous, and when it becomes subject to consideration, ceases to exist.' " (" Life of Shelley," I. 167.) " ' I am more astonished at the grandeur of the scenery' (letter to Hogg) 'than I expected. I do not no?/; much regard it. I have other things to think of.' " (" Life of Shelley," I. 168.) Contrast with these letters those which he wrote from Keswick 8 after his marriage. (Letters of Nov. and Dec, LSll.) Here at last we begin to see the genuine Shelley. Again, in 1812 we have evidence of the opposite excess of meaning- less and delirious rapture, as in the letter to Miss Kitchener when her morality had been put in question. "You are to my fancy as a thunder-riven pinnacle of rock, firm amid the rushing tempest and the boiling surge. Ay, stand forever firm, and when our ship anchors close to thee, the crew will cover thee with flowers." Tendency to Excessive Idealization. This forms the substance of Leslie Stephen's contribution to the Cornhill Magazine, XXXIX. Compare Quarterly Revieiv, LXIV., and Shairp in Eraser's Magazine, N. S. 20. To exemplify "their extreme position I quote from Mr. Leslie Stephen. "The materials with which he works are impalpable abstractions, where other poets use concrete images. . . . When he speaks of natural scenery the solid earth seems to be dissolved, and we are in presence of nothing but the shifting phantasmagoria of cloudland, the glow of moonlight on eternal snow, or the 'golden lightning of the setting sun.'" While admitting that the general temper of Shelley's poetry is distinctly ideal, it is necessary to make a protest against that partial view which removes his work entirely from the sphere of human interest, and regards it merely as the meteoric display of an over- charged imagination which has never fed upon the concrete realities of life. Whipple {Essays and Eeviews) makes the following plea on Shelley's behalf against the charges of unreality and lack of human sympathy : " The predominance of his spiritual over his animal nature; the velocity with which his mind, loosed from the 'grasp of gravitation,' darted upwards into regions whither slower-pacing imaginations could not follow ; the amazing fertility with which he poured out crowds of magnificent images, and the profuse flood of dazzling radiance, blinding the eye with excess of light, which they shed over his compositions, his love of idealizing the world of sense, until it became instinct with thought, and infusing into things dull and lifeless to the sight and touch the qualities of individual existence ; the marvellous keenness of insight with whicli he pierced beneath even the refinements of thought, and evolved new materials of wonder and delight from a seemingly exhausted subject — all these, to a superficial observer, carry with them the appearance of unreality. " It is important to adjust ourselves aright towards thisi question of idealism in Shelley's poetry. W"e must frankly admit at the outset that the tendency towards idealism exists in a very marked manner in the poems. We find, therefore, that criticism ranges itself into two opposing camps. On the one hand, positive common-sense 9 opinion, as represented by Leslie Stephen, will find that Shelley nourished his imagination with substance too rare and immaterial to form the food which a healthy and robust mind should crave as its natural diet. On the other hand, more enthusiastic critics like Whipple or Roden Noel (see p. 12) assert that his idealism con- stitutes. the chief and enduring charm of his poetr}'. It is well here to hold a middle position. We may congratulate ourselves as lovers of English literature that our poetry with Shelley's advent received an imaginative impulse into ethereal regions where wing of poet never beat before. But is he, therefore, the " beautiful and inetfec- tual angel, beating in the void his luminous wings in vain," of Mat- thew Arnold's perverse creating? Shelley's burning zeal for humanity would of itself forbid the acceptance of that view in its sweeping entirety. In the poet's youth we must admit that his conception of humanity is visionary and false, and that his shadowy portraits are evasively delusive and vague in outline. But with growing years the concrete elements of his poetry gathered strength, and qualities of firmness and precision began to show themselves in such abundance as to afford the assurance in his future work of a more harmonious and equable relation between the ideal and the real world. In October, 1821, Shelley wrote to Mr. Grisborne, referring to the most idealistic of his poems : " ' The Epipsychidion ' is a mystery ; as to real flesh and blood, you know that I do not deal in those articles ; you might as well go to a gin-shop for a leg of mutton, as ex- pect anything human or earthly from me." But let us first eliminate the sportive fun from this statement, and remember that within the less than two years that remained to him of life, he had produced those admirably human poems, "To Jane," and conceived and in part written a play upon the thoroughly human subject of "Charles I." In conclusion, we must bear in mind that in a large measure the impression of excessive idealism arises from the subtle character of the poetic imagery which Shelley employs to light up hidden affinities between human emotion and processes of beauty in the natural world. In this regard Shelley does not sin alone, and might shelter himself, did he require refuge from criticism, behind the accepted names of Lamartine or Victor Hugo, whose splendid imagery is conceived in a similar spirit, and employed for a similar end. Love of Indefiniteness and Change {cf. infra Sweet). Rev. Stopford Brooke. Macmillan, XLII. To the love of indefiniteness and the love of change, qualities embedded in Shelley's temperament, Stopford Brooke attributes the leading characteristics of his Nature poetry. " His love of that which is indefinite and changeful made him enjoy and describe better than any other English poet that scenery of the clouds and sky which is indefinite owing to infinite change of appearance. The incessant 10 forming and unforming of the vapours which he describes in the last verse of ' The Cloud,' is that which he most cared to paint. Words- worth often draws, and with great force, the aspect of the sky, and twice, with great elaboration, in ' The Excursion ' ; but it is only a momentary aspect, and it is mixed up with illustrations taken from the works of men, with the landscape of the earth below where men are moving, with his own feelings about the scene, and with moral or imaginative lessons. Shelley, when he is at work on the Power to gijy^ troubles it with none of these human matters,* and Nature ^^ describes not only the momentary aspect, but also the change and progress of the sunset or the storm. And he does this with the greatest care, and with a characteristic attention to those delicate tones and half-tones of colour which resemble the subtle imaginations and feelings he liked to discover in human nature, and to which he gave form in poetry," There follow references in detail to the more celebrated cloud studies at dawn or sunset or during storm to be found in the poems. Of the dawn in the opening of "Prometheus, II.," he says: "The changes of colour, as the light increases in the spaces of pure sky and in the clouds, are watched and described with q" precise truth ; the slow progress of the dawn, during a tJQ„_ ioiig time, is noted down line by line, and all the move- ment of the mists and of the clouds 'shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind.' Nor is that minuteness of observation want- ing which is the proof of careful love. Shelley's imaginative study of beauty is revealed in the way the growth of the dawn is set before us by the waxing and waning of the light of the star, as the vapours rise and melt before the morn. The storms are even Ijetter than the sunsets and dawns. . . . Criticism has no voice when it thinks that no other poet has ever attempted to render, with the same absolute loss of himself, the successive changes, minute by minute, of such an hour of tempest and of sunrise. We are alone with Nature ; I might even say, we see Nature alone with herself." Then follows an enthusiastic analysis of the " Ode to the West Wind." Also, to his love of the indefinite and changeful, Stopford Brooke attributes Shelley's power of describingvast landscapes (e.^., "Euganean Hills," dOJf'; " Alastor," 550//), and his delight in the intricacy of forest scenery (" Recollection," 9f, " Alastor," 420^', " Rosalind, "^ 95//; "Prometheus," II. ii. and IV. IMf. Foiver to Isolate JVature {cf. infra Sweet). Stopford Brooke proceeds to discuss Shelley's treatment of Nature in as far as it was affected by his lack of a definite idea concerning the source of Nature. " Again, just because Shelley had no wish to * Vidt Sweet. " Shelley Society Papers," I. Pt. II. 11 conceive of Nature as involved in one definite thought, he had the power of conceiving the life of separate things in Nature with astonishing individuality. When he wrote of the Cloud, or of Arethusa, or of the Moon, or of the Earth, as distinct existences, he was not led away from their solitary personality by any universal existence in which they were merged, or by tYe necessity of adding to these any tinge of humanity, any elements of thought or love, such as the Pantheist is almost sure to add. His imagination was free to realize pure Nature, and the power by which he does this, as well as the work done, are quite unique in modern poetry. Theology, with its one Creator of the universe; Pantheism, with its 'one spirit's plastic stress ' ; Science, with its one Energy, forbid the modern poet, whose mind is settled into any one of these three views, to see any- thing in Nature as having a separate life of its own. He cannot, as a Greek could do, divide the life of the air from that of the earth, of the cloud from that of the stream. But Shelley, able to loosen him- self from all these modern conceptions which unite the various universe, could and did, when he pleased, divide and subdivide the life of Nature in the same way as a Greek. And this is the cause why, even in the midst of wholly modern imagery and a modern manner, one is conscious of a Greek note in many passages of his poetry of Nature. The following little poem on the Dawn might be conceived by a primitive Aryan. It is a Nature myth. " ' The pale stars are gone ! For the sun, their swift shepherd, To their folds them compelling, Primitive in the depths of the dawn. Quality. Hastes, in meteor- eclipsing array, and they flee Beyond his blue dwelling * As fawns flee the leopard.' "But Shelley's conceptions of the life of these natural things are less human than even the Homeric Greek or early Indian poet would have made them. They describe the work of nature in tei^ms of human act. Shelley's spirits of the earth and moon are utterly apart from our world of thought and from our life. Of this class of poems, ' The Cloud ' is the most perfect example. It describes the life of the Cloud as it might have been a million years before man came on earth. The 'sanguine sunrise' and the 'orbed maiden,' the moon, who are the playmates of the cloud, are pure elemental beings. ... In Wordsworth's poems we touch the human heart of flowers and birds. In Shelley's, we touch ' Shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses.' Yet it is quite possible, though we cannot feel affection for Shelley's Cloud or Bird, that they are both * Compare also Sweet's consideration of Shelley in his myth making capacity (" Shelley Society Papers," I. Pt. II., lide infra), and see Quarterly Review, CLXIV. 12 truer to the actual fact of things than Wordsworth made his birds and clouds.* Strip off the imaginative clothing from 'The Cloud,' and science will support every word of it. Let the sky-lark sing, let the flowers grow, for their own joy alone. In truth, what sym- pathy have they, what sympathy has nature with man 1 The Pathetic Fallacy. " The other side of Shelley's relation to nature is a remarkable contrast to this statement. When he was absorbed in his own being, and writing poems which concerned himself alone, he makes nature the mere image of his own feelings, the creature of his mood." In this connection reference must be made to the Quarterly Re- vietv, CLXIY., and to the British Quarterly, LXXXII. (Hon. Roden Noel). Quarterly Review, CLXIV. : His own moods . . . formed no permanent essential part of himself ; he could, without eflfort, transfer them to Nature. The identity of feeling, which he thus establishes between himself and Nature, is as fascinating as it is peculiar. Yet it is certainly a sign of weakness. In " Alastor," for instance, he reads into his sur- roundings his own pensive and melancholy life. Autumn sighs in the sere woods, the grass shivers at the touch of the poet's foot ; his own hair sings dirges in the wind. No man whose personality is strongly marked, can thus transfer himself to the natural world. In Shelley, the sense of personality was dimmed by the absence of will. He never learned to distinguish between his own feelings and those of others ; but in his later poetry he shakes off the excessive morbidity of "Alastor," . . . and no longer reads his own misery into the aerial merriment of the wind, the wave and the bird. The contrast offers a significant proof of the steady development of the stronger sides of his character. British Quarterly, liXXXII. (Hon. Roden Noel) : Proceeding from the assertion that, in order to arrive at a satis- factory idea of nature, science and poetry are alike necessary, the essayist continues to oppose Ruskin's effort "to distinguish the representation of Nature as she is, which he ascribes to Homer and to Scott among ourselves, and the representation of her as she only appears to our distorting emotions. That seems to me a misleading distinction, because what Nature in herself, apart from our minds is, we do not accurately know ; we can see her only as slie appears to us by virtue of the constitution of our faculties, senses, understand- ing, emotion, and imagination. Therefore, I cannot admit that there is a true nature, which the man of science and the land-sur- veyor see, but a false nature, which the person of delicate suscepti- * Vide infra (p. 12) Roden Noel on the distinction between scientific and poetic truth. 13 bilities and the poet suppose themselves to see. . . . There is no- more reason why those higher faculties should be excluded from their share and function in the revelation of truth than there is why the senses and the understanding should be excluded. . . . Hence^ I cannot enter into Mr. Ruskin's preference of Scott over Shelley as a poet, which is founded on this distinction between them.* . . . What would Shelley's 'Alastor' be without the magniticent scenery of mountain and stream amid which he moves onward to the close 1 They are one. They have joined hands and interpret one another. The result of the poet'.s meditation is neither man alone, nor nature alone, but some fair spiritual child of their espousals. This, I maintain, is somewhat distinctively new and precious added to our intellectual and emotional treasure." Sweet. " Shelley Society Papers," I. Pt. II. This is the most elaborate study of Shelley's nature poetry that has hitherto appeared. Shelley's Place iii the Development of Nature Poetry. The author briefly surveys the wide field of world literatures where the nature idea finds its inception and development. The The Vedic nature poetry is important in connection with Vedas. Shelley's mythology; "nor in a consideration of Shelley's attitude towards nature must we disregard the Teutonic and the Celtic elements in his poetry. To the former we Teutonic and relate his feelinji; for mystery, and to the latter Celtic Elements. u ^. ? t i c u i we refer the extraordinary keenness or his colour faculty. Shelley's description of the imagined ruins of Venice in the * Euganean Hills,' with the sea-mew flying above, and the palace-gate 'toppling, o'er the abandoned sea,' recalls . . . that aspect of Old English lyric poetry represented by ' The Wanderer,' and the im- pressive fragment known as 'The Ruin.' . . . Shelley heightens- the effect, almost as in ' Beowulf,' by " ' The fisher on his watery way, Wandering at the close of day,' hastening to pass the gloomy shore " ' Lest thy dead should, from their sleep Bursting o'er the starlight deep, Lead a rapid masque ot death O'er the waters of his path I ' " The ' na.tural magic ' of such a description as this is, or, at least,. might be, wholly English, wholly Teutonic — strange as such an assertion may seem to a critic like Mr. Arnold, whose ideas of the * See Ruskin's " Modern Painters," Pt. IV., Vol. III. 14 Teutonic spirit are gained from a one-sided contemplation of modern German literature at a period when it was still struggling for the mastery of the rudiments of style and technique, lost in the barbarism of the Thirty Years' War. " Shelley's poem ' The Question,' is . . . as purely Celtic both in its colour-pictures, . . . and its ethereal unreality and delicate, fanciful sentiment. It need hardly be said that this ' Celtic note' in tShelley no more proves Celtic race-influence than the ' Greek note ' in Keats proves that Keats was of Greek descent. Shelley looks at nature with the same»-eyes as an old Celtic poet, because both were inspired by the same sky and earth, both loved the same flowers, fields and forests." After tracing English nature poetry to the first truly modern conception in Milton, the writer swiftly passes the intervening period and proceeds to a discussion of Shelley's work in closer detail. Shelley and Wordsworth. " Shelley's real sympathies are with inanimate nature. Here he is at home. Here he is unique and supreme. He is indeed ' the poet of nature ' in a truer sense than Wordsworth is. AVordsworth is really the poet of the homely, the common-place in nature as in man. Whatever in nature harmonizes with his own narrow sympathies he assimilates and reproduces with a power all his own. . . . Shelley, on the other hand, seeks to penetrate into the very heart of nature in all her manifestations, without regard to their association with human feeling. While in his treatment of man he is all subjectivity, in his treatment of nature he is often purely objective. In Objectivity, g^^jj g^ poem as 'The Cloud ' there is not only no trace of Wordsworthian egotism, but the whole description . . . is as remote from human feeling as it could well be, consistent with the poetic necessity for personification."* Cosmic and Eleinental Sympathies. 'j ''The range of Shelley's sympathies is bounded only by the universe itself. He combines forests, mountains, rivers and seas into vast ideal landscapes ; he dives into the depths of Vastness of the earth, soars among clouds and storms, and corn- Landscape, munes ' with the sphere of sun and moon.' " Love of Indefiniteness and Change. X " Shelley's love of the changing and fleeting aspects of nature — the interest with which he watched the formation of mist and cloud > * Cf. supra, vStopford Brooke. t See also Brandes' " Hauptstromungen," IV., pp. 248/, and Chevi-illon in Revne de Paris, June 1st, 1898. J Cf. -supra, Stopford Brooke. 15 and the shifting hues of dawn and sunset — is, like his sense of structure, a natural result of the half-scientitic spirit with which he regarded nature, for it is in the changing phenomena of nature that real life lies. According to Mr. Brooke, Shelley's love for the changeful in nature is the result of the inherent changef ulness of his temperament. But of this I can see but little in his life. He was impulsive enough — for without impulsiveness he would hardly have been a poet — but not fickle or undecided in his feelings and principles. «^' Shelley s Mythology and Afythopoeic Faculty. [Of. mpra, Stopford Brooke.) "Shelley's love of natural phenomena sometimes shows itself in naive expressions of delight, and simple comparisons which remind us of the nature-poetry of the Veda" (e.g., "Witch of Atlas," XXVII.) After referring to the employment of a conventional mythology by other poets, the essayist notes it as a characteristic of Shelley that he is without a trace of that conventionalism. "He never brings in the figures of classical mythology incidentally, but only when they are the subject of his poetry, and his handling of them in such cases is always fresh and original, as in his 'Hymn to Ajaollo' — the jnost perfect reproduction of the spirit of Greek mythology that we have'in modern literature. His conception of Jupiter in his 'Prometheus' is quite new and original — he makes him the personification of all that hinders the free development of the human mind, which latter is personified by Prometheus. "We see, then, that even where Shelley is trammeled by tra- ditional mythology, he reveals something of that myth-making faculty in which he stands alone among modern poets — the only one who at all approaches him in this respect being his contemporary, the Swedish poet, Stagnelius. When Shelley is free to follow his own fancy, he instinctively creates nature-myths of a strangely primitive type, unlike anything in Greek or the other fully-developed mythologies, but showing marked similarity to the personifications of Vedas. . . . It is not only Shelley critics who have been struck by this characteristic. Mr. Taylor, in his 'Anthropology' (page 290), after remarking that the modern poet 'still uses for picturesqueness the metaphors which to the barbarian were real helps to express his sense,' goes on to quote as an instance the opening lines of 'Queen Mab,' . . . and analyzes them as follows : 'Here the likeness of death and sleep is expressed by the metaphor of calling them brothers; the moon is brought in to illustrate the notion of paleness, the dawn of redness; while to convey the idea of dawn shining on the sea, the simile of its sitting on a throne is introduced, and its reddening is compared on the one hand to a rose, and on the other to blushing. Now, this is the very way in which early bar- baric man, not for poetic affectation, but simply to find the plainest 16 words to convey his thoughts, would talk in metaphors taken from nature.'" "One of the best examples of Shelley's myth-making faculty is the little poem, 'The World's Wanderers' (IV. 51), ... as remote as anything can well be from modern thought and sentiment. Its imagery and its strange unhuman pathos are alike primitive and elemental. The same sympathy with the heavenly bodies in their wanderings through space has been expressed by some of the older Greek lyiic poets, but the conception of the star's rays as wings can hardly be paralleled outside of the 'Veda.'" Cloud Mythology — See " Laon," II. v., 'and IX. xxxv. ; "Cloud," 73 ; Prom. II. i. 145. Cloud Comparisons — See "Summer and Winter"; " Hlleas," 957 ; " Witch," XLVIIL, LIT, LV. ; Liberty, 5. Shelley's Colour Sense. [Vide infra, Atlantic Monthly, LXX.) Quotations and references are made under a variety of rubrics. Flashing and intermittent light. •"Prom." 11. iii. 30 and IV. 182; "Epips." 546; "Dejection," II. ; " Orpheus," 59. Alternations of light and shade. "Laon," II. xlix. and XII. xxxvi. ; " Athanase," II. xiii. and IL 1.; "Rosal." 102; "Prom." L 27 and 1. 678; "Sens. Plant," II. 25; " Alast." 310. A tmospheric effects. "Prom." L 82, IL i. 10 and IL iii. 74; "Laon," IlL iii.; "Rosal," 729; "Dejection,"!.; " Witch," XXXVIL Light see7i through water. "Witch," XXVIIL Light seen through foliage. "Laon," II. i., VII. xi., VIII. xxx. and XII. xviii. ; ' Prom."^ II. ii. 75; "Sens. Plant," I. 23 and I. 43; "Epips." 502. Transmitted light. "Letter to Maria Gisborne," 123. Refracted light. " Alast." 334 ; " Laon," VII. 20. Reflected light or colour. "Alast." 352; "Laon," I. xx.. III. xii. and XII. xviii; "Prom." L 467, L 743 and II. iii. 28; "Witch," XXV. : "Recollec- tion," V. 17 Objects reflected in water, "Alast." 200, 213, 406, 457, 494; " Laon," III. xi. and VI. xxxiii. ; "Prom." III. iv. 78 and IV. 193; "Sens. Plant," I. 18; "West Wind," 111. 33-35; "Invitation," 50 ; "Recol- lection," 53. Also compare "Prom." II. i. 17. with Wordsworth, "Peele Castle, ' and cf. Shelley, " Evening," III. ; 'Liberty," VI ; " Witch," LIX. Colour Contrast. "Alast." 137, 584; "Rosal." 782; "Prom." III. iii. 139; " Laon," I. xi. ; "Witch," X. ; " Marenghi," XIIL Shelley and Coleridge. " Coleridge's affinity to Shelley is shown especially in his descrip- tions of transmitted light and colour, . . . and in his elaborate pictures of reflection in water. . . . But Coleridge does not appear to have, any more than Wordsworth or Milton, any examples of reflected light or colour as distinguished from the reflection of definite objects : Shelley's picture of the ' lake-reflected sun ' illumin- ing the ' yellow bees in the ivy bloom ' seems to be entirely his own. . . The similarity between the two poets (Coleridge and S.) in their treatment of light does not seem to be the result of imita- tion on the part of the younger poet : the agreement is in spirit, not in detail. The love of light was instinctive in both, and was fostered by their surroundings. Coleridge learnt to observe and love the effects of transmitted and reflected light in the shady lanes, and by the rivulets and pools of his native Devon, while Shelley learnt the same lessons in the woods of Marlowe and in his boat on the Thames." Colour Sense — (^Continued). \ / An admirable study of Shelley's artistic use of colour is contained l/in Atlantic Monthly, LXX. (V. D. Scudder), The analysis follows. Colour in Keats and Shelley. It is only in the nineteenth century that the poets have become great colourists ; and no one but Keats can in this respect rival the greatness of Shelley. If Keats has more force of colour, Shelley has more purity. Keats' colouring is opaque, though brilliant, like that of a butterfly's wing ; Shelley's is translucent, like an opal. Ruskin tells us that nature always paints her loveliest hues on aqueous or crystalline matter ; and the very law of nature seems to be the instinct of Shelley. Colour in " Prometheus Unbound." " But the colour in ' Prometheus Unbound ' has a higher function than to vivify the detail of the poem, or to give us a series of exquisite vignettes. The drama, by the use of light and colour, as shaped to an organic whole. It shows the harmonious evolution 2 18 of a central theme ; and this evolution is symbolically presented through the progress of the new cosmic day." The writer develops this thesis skilfully and at some length in the remainder of the essay. Referring in more general terms to Shelley's nature poetry — "It is in the treatment of nature that the distinctive powers of Shelley's poetry are most clearly seen. The ' Prometheus ' is in one sense a nature-drama. The Soul of Nature is herself one of the personages. We are transported from the wildest mountain scenery to the luxuriance of tropical valleys. Sky-cleaving peaks, glaciers, precipices, vast rivers, lakes, forests, meet us on every page. We have a sense that the drama is for the most part enacted on the heights, where the air is pure from earthly taint, and heaven and earth seem to blend. The sky scenery, above all, with its pomp and gloom of storm, its sunrise and sunset, its ' flocks of clouds in spring's delight- ful weather,' is as great as can be found in English poetry; yet the bold outline work, the strong and broad treatment of Vastness i\^q vaster aspects of nature, reveal the poet less than p. f." the renderings of delicate detail, of fleeting sights and Delicacy. , , <= . ' & » sounds lost on a grosser perception. See "Prom." I. 44-47; II. i. 83-86; II. v. 11-14; III. ii. 4-9; III. ii. 25-28; IV. 180-184 ; IV. 431-436. The sensitiveness and passion for change which we have seen to be the notes of Shelley's temperament, are evident in every one of these passages. (Cf. supra, Stopford Brooke.) " It is doubtful whether any poet before our century, whatever his equipment, could so closely and finely have rendered the minuti;\^ of nature." The latest systematic presentation in English criticism of Shelley's nature poetry is contained in Francis Palgrave's ' Landscape in Poetry,' Macmillan &. Co., 1897. The treatment is sketchy and unsatisfactory, and, if anything, hostile in tone. He objects that Shelley's landscape " is inevitably limited and dyed by the colours of his mind ; . . . that no true poet of any age has left us so gigantic a mass of wasted effort, exuberance so Asiatic, such oceans (to speak out) of fluent, well-intended platitude." His shorter and chiefly his later lyrics show him to the best advantage. " Yet even here at times the matter is attenuated as the film of the soap-bubble, gaining through its very thinness its marvellous iridescent beauty. ' Shelley seems to go up and burst,' was Tennyson's remark on a passage of this character. " In his best moods, where he has focussed his eye Vivifying ^^^ j^-g subject, it has that strange power of vitalizing abstractions and things of nature on which Macaulay has commented in his brilliant manner. " We must not look in his landscape for human feeling Lack of interfused as in Coleridge's, for the chord of true passion, uman ^^^ ^£ ^j_^^ humanly pathetic, Shelley could scarcely strike; nor again for Nature moralized and spiritualized, as by 19 Wordsworth ; Shelley's landscape is essentially descriptive, but raised to a life of its own by an imaginative power of perhaps unsurpassed pure vividness, and that personifying habit which we have just noticed." Literal truth and fidelity of description is accorded to the land- scape in the " Euganean Hills," and to a few passages from his later lyrics. II. I have now given the substance of the most important studies on the subject of Shelley's nature poetry, and in the course of this presentation have found it necessary to combat only the extreme views which obtain with reference to the poet's idealistic tendencies. To obtain a satisfactorily complete idea of Shelley's nature poetry, the existing criticism has to be extended and supplemented in many directions. With this end in view, I have endeavoured 1. To bring to bear upon the problem an entirely new method of examination (namely, the study of the Similes). 2. To supplement investigations such as Sweet's, whose only fault lies in their incompleteness. 1. A STUDY OF SHELLEY'S SIMILES. I here advance a large amount of material, arranged in such a manner as to throw abundant light upon Shelley's treatment of beauty in the external world, to illustrate his preferences and the individual peculiarities of his genius, and to exhibit his marvellous skill in adapting the world of nature to the elucidation of subtle intellectual states. The wealth of Shelley's figurative language, and the extraordinary range of his similes have stirred the wonder of critics, and led them to affirm in his poetry a brilliancy that blinds and dazzles with excess. I wish, on the contrary, to aflirm their artistic perfection, as constantly subordinated to some dsfined and conscious aesthetic impulse. Shelley's own opinion of the nature of his powers will serve as a valuable initial commentary upon this portion of my work. "And in this I have long believed that my power consists in sym- pathy, and that part of the imagination which relates to sympathy and contemplation. I am formed, if for anything not in common 20 with the herd of mankind, to apprehend minute and remote distinc- tions of feeling, whether relative to external nature or the living beings which surround us, and to communicate the conceptions which result from considering either the moral or the material universe as a whole." — Letter to Godivin, December 11th, 1817. It is clear, then, that we have in a systematic presentation of the similes an important factor which has never entered into the con- sideration of Shelley's Nature poetry ; and in the light of his figura- tive language we may read the subtler operations of his mind, and see the paths upon which it was prone to run, in as far as human, limitations grant us such an insight. 2. EXTENSION OF EXISTING CRITICISM.* The following investigations are extended : (a) Love oj Indefiniteness and the Love of Change. In these characteristics of Shelley's genius, Stopford Brooke assumes to discover the key to his philosophy of Nature. The analysis is skilfully conducted, and it is impossible to dispute the fact that Shelley's changeful temperament is mirrored faithfully in his poetry. But while not actually challenging these results, it is possible to show that they are misapplied. It seemed necessai-y, therefore, to investigate afresh Shelley's philosophy of Nature, to connect it with his theory of Beauty, and to point at least to some permanent and abiding ideas which give character and solidity to Shelley's work in this direction. (Ij) Shelley's Place in the- Development of Nature Poetry. Sweet has made a general approach to this subject. In connec- tion with Shelley's philosophy of Nature, more special reference than in Dr. Sweet's essay must be made to Shelley in his relation to Wordsworth, and in a lesser degree to Coleridge, Scott, Byron, and Keats. (c) Colour in Shelley's Poetry. This has already received treatment in Section I. It only remains, after the analysis of the colour similes given below, to supplement the categories which Sweet has established. * Note. —This second section of the study, comprising II. 2 («), (6), and (c), will be shortly published. 21 1. ANALYSIS OF THE SiMlLES. Tlie total number of similes in Shelley's poetry is 1989. The above collection contains 1720, all of which have a bearing upon appearances of the external world, whether developed for the sake of their own beauty or subordinated to the illumination of subtle mental operations. This fact is in itself significant. I now pass to a consideration of the various classes of simile in some detail. The basis of arrangement is not a merely artificial clas- sification, but is founded upon the most prominent characteristic in every case ; though all are broadly included within the generic title of Nature Similes. (1) Similes of Colour.* The similes in which colour is the inHftt prominent feature number 425, whereas colour as a more subdued element may be observed in many more. Comparing this result proportionately with the similes arising from other senses than that of sight, we find that Similes of Sound amount to 210, while Similes of Odour naturally sink to 12. Examining the Similes of Colour more closely they fall into various natural subdivisions. (a) Cloud Colour. It satisfies our preconceived idea of Shelley's poetry to discover that 59 similes involve more or less careful and beautiful cloud descriptions (always bearing in mind that many admirable cloud similes occur in other categories). By reference to 2, 3, 4, 9, 11, 13, 52, 59, we gain an insight into Shelley's habitual Descriptions method of describing human (or spiritual) forms. women Here his tendency to idealization mars the concrete presentation of form and feature. His women are filmy shapes of diaphanous vapour, and even his men are effeminate creations entirely wanting in masculine vigour, and impelled alone by the fierce unrest of the spiritual flame within. To confirm this statement further reference should be made to the following pas- sages in the poems. Descriptions of Women. See "Alastor," 175/; "Laon," II. xxiii.,^11. xxix., V". xxiii/, V. xliv. Descriptions of Men (or male spirits). "Laon," I. xlii., I. Ivii., IV. xxix.; "Rosalind," 909/; 1009/'; " Pi'ince Ath." passim. Shelley's descriptions of men are certainly vitiated by this ex- cessive idealism. Contrast, for example, the brawn and muscle of Goethe's "Prometheus," or of Tennyson's ''Geraint" — * The analysis which follows is in part an extension of .Sweet's categories S'omic^= Odours. 467, 488 (N.B.), 536 (N.B.) ; Gruesome, Ui, ibO, 620, 622. (3) Similes of Odour — 12 similes. The sense of smell, as lower on the intellectual plane, contains naturally few similes. A few additional ones are contained in the preceding category. 641 and 642 are more luxuriantly sensuous in character than is usual with Shelley, and remind one rather of Keats, or of Tennyson in his studiously sensuous mood as in the " Lotos Eaters." (4) Simile and Metaphor — 184 similes. In this category simile and metaphor are combined with high poetic eflfect, the simile, as a rule, rising out of the body of the metaphor. This gives to the figurative expression, as a whole, a volume of sustained power, which is frequently lacking in the lighter individual similes. Occasionally, as in 649, the simile seems to inspire the metajDhor which follows as its natural completion. So also 704, 712-13, 714, 716, 717, 825. Examples of the reverse process where the metaphor is completed by a simile : 653. Hope clings like ice. (In cases like this it is, however, almost impossible to say whether the metaphorical idea of "hope clinging" came first into the poet's mind, and the simile expression " like ice " came as a natural complement to the idea, or whether, as the order of words in the original suggests, the simile inspired the metaphor. The former would be the more natural poetic sequence of ideas.) 660. Agony is tvorn like a robe. 661. In the wildey^ness of years her memory appears like a green home. Noteworthy similes in this category. 690-1. (Imitated from "Calderon." See Shelle3r's note.) Here a condition in Nature is elucidated and amplified by human analogy. This reversal of the natural process of simile (from human to natural) is not uncommon in Shelley, though rare in other poets. Observe, as representing many other's, the magnificent similes, 712-3. Other fine similes in this category are 717, 718, 719, 731, 732, 745, 746, 751, 761-2 (note the vigour and intensity, and also the element of colour), 765 (cloud imagery), 766, 785, 791 (cloud imagery). 813 contains the gruesome element so common in Shelley. The similes in this category almost all repay study for the pene- trating insight which they reveal into beautiful processes in nature, presented not alone for their own sake, but as revealing the significance of human conditions. In 738 the simile and metaphor are not in harmony — ' a blot upon the page of fame' being likened to a 'serpent's path.' The analogy is too remote to be successful. (5) Double Similes — 183 similes. It will at once be evident that some of these partake of the characteristics of other categories, as for example, 885, 887, which might have been classified under Simile and Metaphor. But taking even a doubtful example like 885, it will be seen that there is a certain parallelism of structure which justifies its insertion among double similes. " As a golden chalice catches the 26 bright wine which else had sunk into the thirsty dust, so is my overflowing love gathered into thee." (as) Asia : chalice (so) I : the wine. This parallelism or double-thread of simile will be revealed by an analj'sis of any simile under this rubric. Some examples, as 839, 879, etc., are much condensed, and a very few, as 841, 962, are obscure from mere crudeness. Gruesome Similes, 836, 850, 939. Acciimulative Similes, 859/, 881/, 919/ 983/ 989/ 998/ These similes are very characteristic of Shelley. Readers of " Trelawny's Record " will remember his interesting relation of the poet's own account of his methods of composition. " When my brain gets heated with thought it soon boils, and throws off images and words faster than I can skim them off. In the morning, when cooled down, out of the rude sketch, as you justly call it, I shall attempt a drawing." This swift succession of imagery is also found apart from the double similes; e.g., 76/ 176/ (and indeed throughout the " Triumph of Life," which is a vast succession of accumulated similes), 290/, 297/ 318/; 513/ (this is of the type Double Simile, but in- cluded under Similes of Sound), 545/ 603/ Also see "Hymn to Intellectual Beauty," I. ; and as a remoter instance of the same rush of figurative thought, observe the accumulated metaphors in " Epip- sychidion," 21^! (6) Homeric Similes — 49 similes. These are merely double similes of a more extended and pictorial character. As in the Homeric simile proper, the analogy is not maintained through every detail of the comparison. On the contrary, there need be only one essential point of contact, but the artistic impulse continues to develop a sustained poetic image, wrought out seemingly for the sake of its own beauty, and rather as an imaginative than as an intellectual stimulus. The type is a familiar one to the student of the classical poets, or even of our own classically minded poets, Milton, Tennyson, Arnold. E.g., " Iliad," IV. : "As when on the echoing beach the sea wave lifteth itself up in serried array before the driving west wind ; out on the mid deep doth it first raise its head, and then breaketh upon the land, and roareth aloud, and goeth with arched crest around the promontories, and speweth afar the foaming brine ; even thus in close array moved the hosts of the Greeks without pause to battle." As an example of finely- wrought similes of this order in Shelley's poetry, reference should be made to 1015, 1036, 1050, 1058, 1059, 1060. These are very successful similes in their kind, though not fashioned so carefully after the classical model, as certain famous examples in Milton, Tennyson, or Arnold. Some, as 1018, might easily have been classified as Double Similes. Gruesome, 1060. 27 (7) Human to Natural — 145 similes. " The imagery which I have employed will be found, in many instances, to have been drawn from the operations of the human mind, or from those external actions by which they are expressed. This is unusual in modern poetry, although Dante and Shakespeare are full of instances of the same kind : Dante indeed more than any other poet, and with greater success. But the Greek poets, as writers to whom no resource of awakening the sympathy of their contemporaries was unknown, were in the habitual use of this power ; and it is the study of their works (since a higher merit would probably be denied me), to which I am willing that my readers should impute this singularity." (^Shelley, Preface to ^^ Prometheus Unhoimd") The similes in this category require no special comment. (8) Human to Human — 112 similes. Of these I reserve only seven as containing an element of Nature description. (9) Human to Animal (or the reverse) — 72 similes. Romanticism implies for English poetry primarily a vast widening of the sympathies which embrace now not only man in all the hidden recesses of his nature, but extend to a compassionate pity for the dumb creation, and an emotional love for the inanimate world of natural beauty. Tn all these respects Shakespeare had foreshadowed the modern attitude of mind, but after his death until Thomson, or even until Cowper, we do not find these qualities again united. Shelley's treatment of the animal world is not entirely sympa- thetic. His attitude of compassion or the reverse is determined by the one significant fact as to whether the animal in question is carnivorous or not. This fact in itself expresses Shelley's deep- rooted disgust for flesh-eating in man or beast. Thus he speaks of doys habitually in a tone of loathing, and makes them the symbol of a base and treacherous character, e.g., 1223, 1229, 1255, 1271. Even in 1251, 1282, where his sympathies for the oppressed in any form might have influenced him, he abates nothing of his habitual loathing for the friend of man. A reference to Ellis' "Con- cordance" will give other examples of Shelley's antipathetic feeling for dogs. (See also Hounds.) The only notable exception occurs in "Rosalind," 1069/ This same reason for his hatred of dogs inspires his sentiments towards the fiercer wild animals, e.g., Wolvi-s, 1226, 1457, (see Ellis), Tigers, (see Ellis). This hostile treatment of beasts of prey need not, however, astonish us. It is only within the last few years that the splendid creatures of the jungle or the desert have entered as an element of beauty into artistic creation, and Leconte de Lisle and 28 Rudyard Kipling have alone sought to enter sympathetically into the meaning that lurks within their savage and unshaped intelligence. With Fish the same principle holds. Shark, Dog-fish, 1279. Serpents. Here the symbolical idea attaching to the serpent in- tervenes, and by a capricious reversal of Biblical teaching, Shelley identifies in "Laon and Cythna" the Serpent with the Spirit of Good. On the whole, however, he regards the serpent as inspiring loathing or disgust, e.g., 1215, 1218, 1220, 1221, 1227, 1281. Turning now to animals for which Shelley manifests compassion or affection, we find that 71ie Horse is never harshly mentioned. In 1240 and 1260 a sympathetic feeling for the horse suffering oppression is shown (contrast Dogs above), and readers of "Laon and Cythna" will not forget the vigorous description of the Tartarean horse that bears Cythna and her lover to a refuge from the disastrous battle. ("L. & C." VI. xix/) Antelopes, Deer, Fawns, etc. These animals as i-epresenting at once the claims of grace and swiftness, and innocency trembling beneath the harsh oppression of the strong, are treated by the poet with compassionate sympathy. 1244, 1246. (and see Ellis). Birds. Here only the more grossly carnivorous are subjects of aversion. Vultures. 1233, 1252, 1255, 1284, (and Ravens). Eagles. The Eagle is saved by his very sublimity, as evident from 1248, 1272, 1273. But in " Laon and Cythna" he is regarded as the symbol of the Evil Spirit, and other passages in the poems refer to him in his rapacious character, e.g., " Arethusa," III. 16; " Hellas," 307 ; "Laon and Cythna," VII. xxvii. 4. (10) Human to Abstractions, etc. — 40 similes. Of these three only are retained. 1288 and 1289 are subtly imaginative, and reveal Shelley's pinmitive tendency to create living essences, as it were the presiding spirits or divinities of beautiful places. (11) Natural to Natural — 119 similes. Gruesotne, 1336. Reflected Li'^ht, 1346; Reflected Form, 1378. Colour, 1382, 1383. Cloud or Vapour Imar^ry, 1290, 1292, 1293, 1296, 1305, 1342, 1347, 1348, 1349, 1363, 1364, 1373, .1403. 29 (12) Natural to Humav or Natural Phenomena to Mental Phenomena, Spirits, etc. — 40 similes. Shairp insisted that Shelley was incapable of direct forcible description, because, while contemplating a landscape, his thoughts evaporated into fantastic and unreal conceptions. " So entirely at home is he in this abstract shadowy world of his own making, that when he would describe common visible things he does so by likening them to those phantoms of the brain, as though with these last alone he was familiar. Virgil likens the ghosts by the banks of Styx to falling leaves — Shelley likens falling leaves to ghosts : The dead leaves ' Are driven like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.' We see thus that nature as it actually exists has little place in Shelley's poetry." (Shairp in Fraser's, N. S., XX.) This is weak and insipid criticism with but a grain of truth in it. The similes, for example, wherein Shelley expresses nature in terms of the human or spiritual world, are rare indeed by comparison with those in which human conditions are illustrated by a reference to the external world. Descriptions of the last-named kind prove, moreover, that Shelley could write when he would with his "eye upon the object"; and many detailed descriptions besides would attest his powers of a concrete and definite presentation of beauty. Bearing this reservation in mind, we may admit that the Quartei'ly JReviev}, Vol. CLXIV., makes a nearer hit at the truth. " Except in the distinct descriptions contained in ' Julian and Maddalo,' or the distinct studies of atmospheric effects, everything is allegorized and idealized. Substance fades when the characteristics of nature change with his moods, and the ' orbed maiden with white fire laden ' becomes a ' dying lady, lean and pale.' Shelley, with his quivering sensibility, his fresh imagination, his intense and simple nature, treats stream and fountain cloud and bird, in the true spirit of a mythological poet. He associates inanimate matter with the attributes of sentient mind ; endows it with his own passions ; tinges it with the hues of his own life. His pictures are so charged with supernatural life that he seems unable to observe without personifying. ..." In point of fact, Shelley in this figurative type merely conforms to the usage of the great idealistic poets. He represents Nature as a living symbol. And whereas the majority of poets materialize their ideas by images drawn from the external world, Shelley spiritualizes inanimate nature by a vivid symbolical interpretation of natural phenomena translated into the language of the intellect. Lamartine, the great idealist in French literature, as Shelley in English literature, afTords innumeraVjle examples of this faculty. He speaks of a white corolla — " Elle est pale comn.e iine joue Dont I'amour a l)u las couleiirs." 30 Or again " Ue I'astre de la nuit un rayon solitaire, A travers les vitraux dii sombre sanctuaire, Glissait comnie I'espoir a travers le malheur, Oil dans la nuit de I'ame un regard du Seigneur." Gruesome Similes. Shelley's inevitable tendency to revel in gruesome ideas in the midst of beauty {cf. Hugo's employment of the grotesque) shows itself in the following similes: 1426, 1428, 1430, 1432. (13) Natural to Animal — 27 similes. Grueso7ne, 1497. Number 1474, and the whole poem from which it is taken, admirably reveal Shelley's mythopoeic power. (14) Similes of Swiftness and Evanescence — 45 similes. These similes are of great value for the characteristic expression which they give to an important side of Shelley's genius. Endowed with faculties of perception attuned to the higliest pitch of intensity, and with emotional desires ever fleeting beyond the reach of attain- ment, his poetry vibrates with an eager vehemence of speed, incomparable surely within the range of literature ; and there is always present amid all the ardours of emotional pursuit an ineffable sense of loss or unattained desire, poignantly expressed again and again by the confession of the transiency of earthly joys, and by the evanescence of those insecure delights which crumble in the hand stretched out to seize them. I have therefore classed together the similes of speed and of evanescence as representing two closely related expressions of the same qualities of mind. In his similes of swiftness Shelley stands alone. His similes of evanescences are at one with the traditions of poetry in all ages and in every land. No great poet has ever been blind to the fleeting character of earthly beauty, nor to the perilous tenure by which we hold ^the transient gifts of time. Isaiah was not the first to give utterance to this confession of human impotence in that splendid passage in the thirty-fourth chapter : " And all the host of heaven shall M'aste away : And the heavens shall be rolled up like a scroll ; And all their host shall wither ; As the withered leaf falleth from the vine, And as the blighted fig from the fig-tree ; " and while poetry exists there will be heard this human cry voicing the dumb protest of the world against the relentless march of change. An analysis of these similes will show us Shelley's favourite comparisons. 31 Swiftness represented by Cloitd(s), 1477, 1485, 1491, 1497, 1519, 1520, 1534, 1545, 1556, 1567, 1578, 1596. Shadow{s), 1516, 1552, 1571, 1579, 1584, 1587, 1621. lhought{s), 1504, 1521, 1541, 1543, 1560, 1592; Wind, 1538, 1573, 1583. Whirlwind, 1503; Tempest-vapour, 1502, 1542. Storm, 1572, 1601; Leaves in tempest, 1487; Insects in gale, 1493. Hist, 1621 ; Volcano-smoke, 1490; Earthquake, 1599. River-foam, 1479; Foam from ship, 1550; Gossamer, 1517. Light, \b\S, 1605; Morning, 1515; Fire, 1537, 1611. Moon, 1523; Meteor, 1561; Star, 1580; Dream, 1563, 1590. Eagle, 1498, 1505, 1581; Antelope, 1597; Tiger, 1582; Horse, 1602. Evanescence represented by Cloud{s), 1482, 1485, 1508, 1509, 1528, 1553, 1558, 1564, 1613. Detv, 1481, 1488, 1536, 1546, 1566, 1576, 1609. Mist, 1495, 1510, 1531, 1542, 1595, 1614. Shadoiv{s), 1499, 1506, 1511, 1514, 1539, 1565, 1575. Smoke, 1486, 1507, 1512; Foam, 1588; Wave, 1615. River {in Sand), 1501, 1549, 1570. Bubbles on River, 1562. Sprat/, 1540. Wind, 1513, 1620, 1593. Taper, 1554. Dream, 1569, 1574. Moonlight, 1594. Embers, 1604. Corpse, 1591. Z). W. 70. fi Thou must have marked the billowy mountain clouds, Edged with intolerable radiancy. Towering like rocks of jet Above the burning deep — D. W. 197. 6 And yet there is a moment When those far clouds of feathery purple gleam Like fairy lands girt by some heavenly sea : — D. W. 201. 7 And walked as free as light the clouds among, — L. d: G. Ded. 8 Even like the dayspring, poured on vapours dank. The beams of that one Star did shoot and quiver Thro' my benighted mind— and were extinguished never. —L. d.- a I. 41. 9 at night, methought in dream A Shape of speechless beauty did appear : It stood like light on a careering stream Of golden clouds which shook the atmosphere ; —L. (t C. I. 42. 34 TO and as the vapours lie Bright in the outspread morning's radiancy, So were these thoughts invested with the light Of language —L. tC' C. II. 16. ill She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness, A power that from its objects scarcely drew One impulse of her being — in her lightness Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew Which wanders thro' the waste air's pathless blue, To nourish some far desert —L. <£• C. II. 23. '32 the twilight's gloom Lay like a eharnel's mist witliin the radiant dome. —L. d.- C. V. 22. 13 She stood beside me like a rainbow braided Within some storm, when scarce its shadows vast From tlie blue iiaths of the swift sun have faded, - L. d.- C. V. 24. 1J4 for now A power, a thirst, a knowledge, which below All thoughts, like light beyond the atmosphere. Clothing its clouds with grace, doth ever flow. Came on us as we sat in silence there, Beneath the golden stars of the clear azure air. —L. cL' C. VI. 30. 'J5 as an autumnal blossom Which spreads its shrunk leaves in the sunny air, After cold showers, like rainbows woven there, Thus in her lips and cheeks the vital spirit Mantled, and in her eyes, an atmosphere Of health and hope ; —L. d- C. VI. 55. ^6 And the white clouds of noon which oft were sleeping, In the blue heaven so beautiful and fair, Like hosts of ghastly shadows hovering there ; — Z. ci- G. VII. 15. 117 My eye and voice grew firm, calm was my mind, And piercing, like the morn, now it has darted Its lustre on all hidden things, behind Yon dim and fading clouds which load the wearv wind. —L. cfc C. VII. 30. ajj the day was dying : — Sudden, the sun shone forth, its beams were lying Like boiling gold on Ocean, strange to see, And on the shattered vapours, which defying The power of light in vain, tossed restlessly In the red Heaven, like wrecks in a tempestuous sea. —L. d- C. XI. 2. Its It was a stream of living beams, whose bank On either side by the cloud's cleft was made, And where its chasms that flood of glory drank, Its waves gushed forth like fire, — L. d; C. XI. 3. 35 no when bright, like dawning day, The Spectre of the Plague before me flew. — L. d- C. XII. 25. 21 and hope and peace On all who heard him did abide, Raining like dew from his sweet talk, As where the evening star may walk, Along the brink of the gloomy seas, Liquid mists of splendour quiver. — IL tt' H. 641. 22 And in that dark and evil day Did all desires and thoughts, that claim Men's care, ambition, friendship, fame, Love, hope, though hope was now despair — Indue the colors of this change. As from the all-surrounding air The earth takes hues obscure and strange. When storm and earthquake linger there. — /'. <£• ff. 724. 23 On my faint eyes and limbs did dwell That spirit as it passed, till soon As a frail cloud wandering o'er the moon, Beneath its light invisible. Is seen when it folds its grey wings again To alight on midnight's dusky plain, I lived and saw, and the gathering soul, Passed from beneath that strong control, — B. d- H. 1039. 24 There is no lament for him Like a sunless vapour, dim Who once clothed with life and thought What now moves nor murmurs not. — Eug. H. 61. 25 Gathering round with wings all hoar, Thro' the dewy mist they soar Like grey shades, till the Eastern heaven i26 Bursts, and then, as clouds of even, Flecked with lire and azure, lie In the unfathomable sky, So their plumes of purple grain, Starred with drops of golden rain. Gleam above the sunlight woods. As in silent multitudes On the morning's fitful gale Thro' the broken mist thej' sail, And the vapours cloven and gleaming Follow down the dark steep streaming. Till all is bright, and clear, and still, Round the solitary hill. — Euy. H. 74. ■27 From the sea a mist has spread. And the beams of morn lie dead On the towers of Venice now, Like its glory long ago, — Eag. H. 210. 28 Noon descends around me now : 'Tis the noon of aiitumn's glow. When a soft and purple mist Like a vaporous amethyst, 36 29 Or an air-dissolved star Mingling light and fragrance — Eug. H. 285.. 30 The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats tho' unseen amongst us — Like clouds in starlight widely spread. — H. I. B. I> 31 Spirit of Beauty Thy light alone like mist o'er mountains driven Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream. — H. I. B. III. 32 Look, sister, ere the vapour dim thy brain : Beneath is a wide plain of billowy mist, As a lake, paving in the morning sky, With azure waves which burst in silver light. Some Indian vale. — Prom. II. iii. 18. and the light 33 Wliich fills tliis vapour, as the aerial hue Of fountain-gazing roses fills the water,! Flows from thy mighty sister — Prom. II. v. 11. 34 Child of Light ! thy limbs are burning Thro' the veil which seems to hide them ; As the radiant lines of morning Thro' the clouds ere they divide them ; And this atmosphere divinest Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest. — Prom. II. v. 54. 35 The elements obey me not. I sink Dizzily down, ever, for ever, down. And, like a cloud, mine enemy above Darkens my fall with victory. — Prom. III. ii. 80. 36 Its wheels are solid clouds, azure and gold, Such as the genii of the thunder storm Pile on the floor of the illumined sea When the sun rushes under it ; they roll And move and grow as with an inward wind ; —Prom. IV. 214. 37 The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness ! The boundless, overflowing, bursting gladness, The vaporous exultation not to be confined ! Ha ! ha ! the animation of delight Which wraps me, like an atmosphere of light. And bears me as a cloud is borne by its own wind. —Prom. IV. 319. 38 Drinking from thy sense and sight Beauty, majesty, and might As a grey and watery mist Glows like solid amethyst Athwart the western mountain it enfolds, When the sunset sleeps Upon its snow — Prom. IV. 481. 37 39 The wrecks of the tempest, like vapours of gold, Are consuming in sunrise — Vis. of Sea, 127. 40 Thou bearer of the quiver. Whose sunlike shafts pierce tempest-winged Error, As light may pierce the clouds when they dissever In the calm regions of the orient day — Ode to Lib. X. 41 I hear the pennons of her car Self-moving, like cloud charioted by flame ; —Ode to Lib. XVIII. 42 How glorious it will be to see her Majesty Flying above our heads, her petticoats Streaming like ..... Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain ; —(Ed. Tyr. 95. 43 ' one intense DiflFusion, one serene Omnipresence Whose flowing outlines mingle in their flowing Around her cheeks and utmost fingers glowing With the unintermitted blood, which there Quivers (as in a fleece of snow-like air The crimson pulse of living morning quiver) — Epips. 94. 44 the moving pomp might seem Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream. — Adon. y^lll. 45 His cold pale limbs and pulseless arteries Are like the fibres of a cloud instinct With light, —Hell. 142. 46 A mortal shape to him Was like the vapour dim Which the orient planet animates with light ; — Hell. 215 47 The Anarchies of Africa unleash Their tempest-winged cities of the sea, To speak in thunder to the rebel world. Like sulphurous clouds, half shattered by the storm. They sweep the pale ^I<]gean, — Hell. 299. 48 In the death hues of agony Lambently flashing from a fish. Now Peter felt amused to see Shades like a rainbow's rise and flee. Mixed with a certain hungry wish. — P. B. XXVI. 49 the thunder smoke Is gathering on the mountains, like a cloak Folded across their shoulders broad and bare ; —Lett, to M. 6. 1 16. 50 Such clouds as flit, Like splendour-winged moths about a taper. Round the red west when the sun dies in it — Witch, III. MS 51 and on the water for her tread A tapestry of fleece-like mist was strewn, Dyed in the beams of the ascending moon — Witch, LIII. 52 Its shape was such as summer melody Of the south wind in spicy vales might give To some light cloud bound from the golden dawn To fairy isles of evening, — Fraytn. of Dram. 215. 53 See those thronging chariots Rolling like painted clouds before the wind Behind their solemn steeds — Chas. I., I. 136. 54 Oh, light us to the isles of the evening land ! Like floating Edens cradled in the glimmer of sunset, through the distant mist of years Touched by departing hope, they gleam ! — Ghas. I., IV. 22. 55 and the sense Of hope through her fine texture did suffuse Such varying glow, as summer evening casts On undulating clouds and deepening lakes. — D. W. 36. 56 Let us laugh and make onr mirth. At the shadows of the earth. As dogs bay the moonlight clouds, Which like spectres wrapt in shrouds. Pass o'er night in multitudes — Invoc. to Mis. XII. 57 From that Typhaen mount, Inarime, There streamed a sunlight vapour, like the standard Of some aetherial host ; —Ode to Nap. 44. 58 On one side of this jagged and shapeless hill There is a cave, from which there eddies up A pale mist like aerial gossamer, — Orph. 18. 59 The Fairy's frame was slight, yon fibrous cloud. That catches but the palest tinge of even And which the straining eye can hardly seize When melting into eastern twilight's shadow. Were scarce so thin, so slight — Q- M. 94. {h) Water Colour. 60 With the sun's cloudless orb, Whose rays of rapid light Parted around the chariot's swifter course. And fell like ocean's feathery spray Dashed from the boiling surge Before a vessel's prow. — D. W . 153. 61 For where the irresistible storm had cloven That fearful darkness the blue sky was seen Fretted with many a fair cloud interwoven Most delicately, and the ocean green. Beneath that opening spot of blue serene, Qiiivered like burning emerald : — L. «C- C. I. 4_ 39 62 Only 'twas strange to see the red commotion Of waves like mountains o'er the sinking sphere Of sunset sweep, — L. d; G. I. 151. 63 Beside that Image then I sate, while she Stood, mid the throngs which ever ebbed and flowed Like light amid the shadows of the sea Cast from one cloudless star, — L. d- C. V. 5K. 64 while tears pursued Each other down her fair and listening cheek Fast as the thoughts that fed them, like a flood From sunbright dales ; —L. dr C. VII. 2.. 65 And in that roof of crags a space was riven Thro' which there shone the emerald beams of heaven. Shot thro' the lines of many waves inwoven. Like sunlight thro' acacia woods at even, — L. ct C. VII. IL. 66 Below the fountain's brink was richly paven With the deep's wealth, coral and pearl, and sand Like spangling gold, — L. <, 256. 200 I have heard those more skilled in spirits say, The bubbles, which the enchantment of the sun Sucks from the pale faint water-flowers that pave The oozy bottom of clear lakes and pools, Are the pavilions where such dwell and float Under the green and golden atmosphere Which noon-tide kindles thro' the woven leaves ; And when these bui'st, and the thin fiery air, The which they breathed •wdthin those lucent domes. 50 Ascends to flow like meteors thro' the night, They ride on them, and rein their headlong speed, And bow their burning crests, and glide in fire Under the waters of the earth again. — Prom. If. ii. 70. 201 Their bright locks Stream like a comet's flashing hair : they all Sweep onward. — Prom. II. iv. 138. 202 the bright visions, Wherein the singing spirits rode and shone, Gleam like pale meteors through a watery night. —Prom. IV. 514. 203 And the meteors of that sublunar heaven, Like the lamps of the air when night walks forth, Laughed round her footsteps up from the earth ! -Sem. PL II. 10. 204 Death, Fear, Love, Beauty are mixed in tlie atmosphere ; Which trembles and burns with the fervour of dread Around her wild eyes, her bright hand, and her head. Like a meteor of light o'er the waters ! — Vision of Sea, 161. 205 her petticoats streaming Or like a meteor, or a war-steed's mane, — CEd. Tyr. 95. 206 Another splendour on his mouth alii., And as a dying meteor stains a wreath Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, It flashed through his pale limbs, and pass'd to its eclipse —Adon. XII. 207 Like winged stars the fire-flies flash and glance, ^ Pale in the open moonshine, but each one Under the dark trees seems a. little sun, A meteor tamed ; — Letter to M. G. 281. 208 And the marsh meteors, like tame l^easts, at night Came licking with blue tongues his veined feet ; —Mar. XX. 209 And the marsh meteors .... And he would watch them, as, like spirits bright. In many entangled figures quaint and sweet To some enchanted music they would dance, — Mar. XX. 210 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. — With a Guitar, 17. ill) The Sky. •21 1 The other glowing like the vital morn. When throned on ocean's wave It breathes over the Avorld : — D. W. 5. 51 ^12 Yet likest evening's vault that faery hall, 213 As heaven low resting on the wave it spread Its flooi's of flashing light, Its vast and azure dome ; — D. W. 221. 214 unfathomable deeps Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread And wind among the accumulated steeps ; — Mont. B. 64. 215 It was a temple, such as mortal hand Has never built, nor ecstasy, nor dream, Reared in the cities of enchanted land ; 'Twas likest heaven, ere yet day's purple stream Ebbs o'er the western forest, while the gleam Of, the unrisen moon among the clouds 7s gathering, when with many a golden beam The thronging constellations rush in crowds, Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal floods. -L. ct- C. I. 49. 216 His eyes were dark and deep, and the clear brow Which shadowed them was like the morning sky, The cloudless heaven of Spring, when in their flow Thro' the bright air, the soft winds as they blow Wake the green world — L. 217 Her looks were sweet as Heaven's when loveliest In Autumn eves — L. . ct- C. X. 16. 260 her dark and intricate eyes 261 Orb within orb deeper than sleep or death, Absorbed the glories of the burning skies, Which, mingling with lier heart's deep ecstasies. Burst from her looks and gestures : — L. ct- C. XI. 5. 262 his eyes are mild And calm, and like the moi'n about to break. Smile on mankind — — L. d' G. XII. 3. 263 And his keen eyes glittering through mine. Filled me with the flame divine. Which in their orbs was burning far, Like the light of an unmeasured star. In the sky of midnight dark and deep : — /?. d- H. 1134. 55 264 I feel, I see Those eyes which burn thro' suiiles that fade in tears, Like stars half quenched in mists of silver dew. —Pro7n. II. i. 27- 265 Thine eyes are like the deep, blue, boundless heaven Contracted to two circles underneath Their long, fine lashes ; dark, far, measureless, Orb within orb, and line thro' line inwoven. —Prom. II. i. 114. 266 the young spirit That guides it has the dovelike eyes of hope ; — Prom. II. iv. 159.. 267 The terrors of his eye illumined heaven With sanguine light, through the thick ragged skirts Of the victorious darkness as he fell ; Like the last glare of day's red agony. Which, from a rent among the fiery clouds. Burns far along the tempest-wrinkled deep — Prom. III. ii, 4., 268 And 3'our eyes are as love which is veiled not ? —Prom. IV. 92. 269 Be your wounds like eyes To weep for the dead. — Ode 3.. 270 With those clear drops, which start like sacred dew From the twin lights thy sweet soul darkens through, —EpipK. 142. 271 And then came one of sweet and earnest looks. Whose soft smiles to his dark and night-like eyes 272 Were as the clear and ever-living brooks Are to the obscure fountains whence they rise Showing how pure they are ; — Cane. Adon. 1. 273 Oh, speak not of her eyes ! which seem Twin mirrors of Italian heaven, yet gleam With such deep meaning, as we never see But in the human countenance ; — Jul. tfc M. 147. 274 and eyes whose arrowy light Shone like the reflex of a thousand minds. -Prince Ath. II. i. 4. 275 Her hair was brown, her sphered eyes were brown, And in their dark and liquid moisture swam, Like the dim orb of the eclipsed moon, — Fraym. Prince Ath. 1_ 276 Yet when the spirit flashed beneath, there came The light from them, as when tears of delight Double the western planet's serene flame. — Fragm. Prince Ath. 4^ 277 When Peter heard of his promotion. His eyes grew like two stars for bliss ; — Peter B. VII. viL 56, 278 deep her eyes, as are Two openings of unfathomable night Seen through a temple's cloven roof — — Witch, V. 279 In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie, Even though the sounds which were thy voice, which burn Between thy lips, are laid to sleep ; 280 Within thy breath, and on thy hair, like odour it is yet, 281 And from thy touch like lire doth leap. — ConM. I. 282 Thrills with her lovely eyes. Which like two stars amid the heaving main Sparkle through liquid bliss. — Q. M. 38. {k) Darkness, Shadow. '283 Below, the smoke of roofs involved in flame Rested like night, — L. d- G. III. 16. 284 I watched, unt 1 the shades of evening wrapt Earth like an exhalation —L. d- C. III. 18. 285 confusion, then despair Descends like night — L. A- C. V. 7. 286 O Spirit vast and deep as Night and Heaven ! —L. e meridian sun, Ungazed upon and shapeles. — Prom. II. iv. 2. 57 296 That terrible shadow floats Up from its throne, as maj' the lurid smoke Of earthquake-ruined cities o'er the sea. — Prom. II. iv. 150. 297 Peace ! peace ! A mighty Power which is as darkness, Is rising out of Earth, and from the sky 298 Is showered like night, and from within the air 299 Bursts, like eclipse which had been gathered up Into the pores of sunlight ; — Prom. IV. 510. 300 To forgive wrongs darker than death or night ; —Prom. IV. 571. 301 Six the thunder has smitten, And they lie back as mummies on which Time has written His scorn of the embalmer ; — Vinon of S. 61. 302 Black as a cormorant the screaming blast — Vision of S. 105. 303 armies mingled in obscure array, Like clouds with clouds, darkening the sacred bowers Of serene heaven — Ode. to Lib. XII. 304 The future looks as black as death, a cloud, 305 Dark as the frown of Hell hangs over it — — (Ed. Tyr. 96. 306 And others said that such mysterious grief From God's displeasures like a darkness, fell On souls like his which owned no higher law Than love ; —Prince Ath. I. 93. 307 but o'er the visage wan Of Athanase, a ruffling atmosphere Of dark emotion, a swift shadow ran. Like wind upon some forest-bosomed lake, Glassy and dark, — — Prince Ath. II. ii. 47. 308 the flagging wing Of the roused cormorant in the lightning flash Looked like the wreck of some wind-wandering Fragment of inky thunder-smoke — Witch, L. 309 And o'er what seemed the head a cloud-like crane Was bent, a dim and faint aetherial gloom Tempering the light. — Tr. of L. 91. 310 And Gregory and Jolin and men divine Who rose like shadows between man and (;lod — Tr. of L. 288. 311 And tyrants and slaves are like shadows of night In the van of the morning light — Lib. IV. 312 A portal as of shadowy adamant Stands yawning on the highwaj^ of the life Which we all tread, a cavern huge and gaunt ; Around it rages an unceasing strife 313 Of shadows, like the restless clouds that haunt The gap of some cleft mountain, lifted high Into the whirlwinds of the upper sky. — Alley. I. 58 314 A firmament of purple light Which in the dark earth lay More boundless than the depth of night, And purer than the day. — To Jane Rec. 57. (I) White Light, Pallor. some, whose white hair shone 315 Like mountain snow — L.