Lines written among the Eugenian hills(1st part)

Lines Written among the Euganean Hills

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Many a green isle needs must be

In the deep wide sea of Misery,

Or the mariner, worn and wan,

Never thus could voyage on

Day and night, and night and day,

Drifting on his dreary way,

With the solid darkness black

Closing round his vessel's track;

Whilst above, the sunless sky,

Big with clouds, hangs heavily,

And behind, the tempest fleet

Hurries on with lightning feet,

Riving sail, and cord, and plank,

Till the ship has almost drank

Death from the o'er-brimming deep;

And sinks down, down, like that sleep

When the dreamer seems to be

Weltering through eternity;

And the dim low line before

Of a dark and distant shore

Still recedes, as ever still

Longing with divided will,

But no power to seek or shun,

He is ever drifted on

O'er the unreposing wave

To the haven of the grave.

What, if there no friends will greet;

What, if there no heart will meet

His with love's impatient beat;

Wander wheresoe'er he may,

Can he dream before that day

To find refuge from distress

In friendship's smile, in love's caress?

Then 'twill wreak him little woe

Whether such there be or no:

Senseless is the breast and cold

Which relenting love would fold;

Bloodless are the veins and chill

Which the pulse of pain did fill;

Every little living nerve

That from bitter words did swerve

Round the tortur'd lips and brow,

Are like sapless leaflets now

Frozen upon December's bough.