In rainbow and in fire, the parasites,

440 Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around

The grey trunks, and, as gamesome infants' eyes,

With gentle meanings, and most innocent wiles,

Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love,

These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs

445 Uniting their close union; the woven leaves

Make net-work of the dark blue light of day,

And the night's noontide clearness, mutable

As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns

Beneath these canopies extend their swells,

450 Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms

Minute yet beautiful. One darkest glen

Sends from its woods of musk-rose, twined with jasmine,

6. The 'yellow flowers' overhanging their own strong impulse' (line 415) drives him on. reflection (lines 406?08), probably narcissus, may 7. As often in Shelley, 'mocking' has a double

signify the narcissistic temptation of the Poet to be sense: mimicking as well as ridiculing the sounds

satisfied with a projection of his own self. But his of the forest (line 421).

need for an unearthly Other revives, and 'the

 .

ALASTOR / 75 1

A soul-dissolving odour, to invite

To some more lovely mystery. Through the dell,

455 Silence and Twilight here, twin-sisters, keep

Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades,

Like vaporous shapes half seen; beyond, a well,

Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent wave,

Images all the woven boughs above,

460 And each depending leaf, and every speck

Of azure sky, darting between their chasms;

Nor aught else in the liquid mirror laves

Its portraiture, but some inconstant star

Between one foliaged lattice twinkling fair,

465 Or, painted bird, sleeping beneath the moon,

Or gorgeous insect floating motionless,

Unconscious of the day, ere yet his wings

Have spread their glories to the gaze of noon. Hither the Poet came. His eyes beheld

470 Their own wan light through the reflected lines

Of his thin hair, distinct in the dark depth

Of that still fountain; as the human heart,

Gazing in dreams over the gloomy grave,

Sees its own treacherous likeness there. He heard

475 The motion of the leaves, the grass that sprung

Startled and glanced and trembled even to feel

An unaccustomed presence, and the sound

Of the sweet brook that from the secret springs

Of that dark fountain rose. A Spirit seemed

480 To stand beside him?clothed in no bright robes

Of shadowy silver or enshrining light,

Borrowed from aught the visible world affords

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