The Fugitives

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems". 1824.]



1.
The waters are flashing,
The white hail is dashing,
The lightnings are glancing,
The hoar-spray is dancing--
Away!                                                                _5
The whirlwind is rolling,
The thunder is tolling,
The forest is swinging,
The minster bells ringing--
Come away!                                                           _10
The Earth is like Ocean,
Wreck-strewn and in motion:
Bird, beast, man and worm
Have crept out of the storm--
Come away!                                                           _15
2.
'Our boat has one sail
And the helmsman is pale;--
A bold pilot I trow,
Who should follow us now,'--
Shouted he--                                                         _20
And she cried: 'Ply the oar!
Put off gaily from shore!'--
As she spoke, bolts of death
Mixed with hail, specked their path
O'er the sea.                                                        _25
And from isle, tower and rock,
The blue beacon-cloud broke,
And though dumb in the blast,
The red cannon flashed fast
From the lee.                                                        _30
3.
And 'Fear'st thou?' and 'Fear'st thou?'
And Seest thou?' and 'Hear'st thou?'
And 'Drive we not free
O'er the terrible sea,
I and thou?'                                                         _35
One boat-cloak did cover
The loved and the lover--
Their blood beats one measure,
They murmur proud pleasure
Soft and low;--                                                      _40

While around the lashed Ocean,
Like mountains in motion,
Is withdrawn and uplifted,
Sunk, shattered and shifted
To and fro.                                                          _45
4.
In the court of the fortress
Beside the pale portress,
Like a bloodhound well beaten
The bridegroom stands, eaten
By shame;                                                            _50
On the topmost watch-turret,
As a death-boding spirit
Stands the gray tyrant father,
To his voice the mad weather
Seems tame;                                                          _55
And with curses as wild
As e'er clung to child,
He devotes to the blast,
The best, loveliest and last
Of his name!                                                         _60
NOTES:
_28 And though]Though editions 1839.
_57 clung]cling editions 1839.