580 And did embower with leaves for ever green,

And berries dark, the smooth and even space

Of its inviolated floor, and here

The children of the autumnal whirlwind bore,

In wanton sport, those bright leaves, whose decay,

585 Red, yellow, or etherially pale,

Rivals the pride of summer. 'Tis the haunt

Of every gentle wind, whose breath can teach

The wilds to love tranquillity. One step,

One human step alone, has ever broken

590 The stillness of its solitude:?one voice

Alone inspired its echoes,?even that voice

Which hither came, floating among the winds,

And led the loveliest among human forms

To make their wild haunts the depository

595 Of all the grace and beauty that endued

Its motions, render up its majesty,

Scatter its music on the unfeeling storm,

And to the damp leaves and blue cavern mould,

2. Pine trees in Shelley often signify persistence and steadfastness amid change and vicissitudes.

 .

76 0 / PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Nurses of rainbow flowers and branching moss,

6oo Commit the colours of that varying cheek,

That snowy breast, those dark and drooping eyes.

The dim and horned3 moon hung low, and poured

A sea of lustre on the horizon's verge

That overflowed its mountains. Yellow mist

605 Filled the unbounded atmosphere, and drank

Wan moonlight even to fulness: not a star

Shone, not a sound was heard; the very winds,

Danger's grim playmates, on that precipice

Slept, clasped in his embrace.?O, storm of death!

6io Whose sightless4 speed divides this sullen night:

And thou, colossal Skeleton,0 that, still Death

Guiding its irresistible career

In thy devastating omnipotence,

Art king of this frail world, from the red field

615 Of slaughter, from the reeking hospital,

The patriot's sacred couch, the snowy bed

Of innocence, the scaffold and the throne,

A mighty voice invokes thee. Ruin calls

His brother Death. A rare and regal prey

620 He hath prepared, prowling around the world;

Glutted with which thou mayst repose, and men

Go to their graves like flowers or creeping worms,

Nor ever more offer at thy dark shrine

The unheeded tribute of a broken heart.

625 When on the threshold of the green recess

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