Percy Bysshe Shelley

by Timothy Webb (editor)

Shelley's life was short an turbulent, but he left behind some of the most

Genres: Poetry, Classics

111 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1989

Reviews

[Vicky Hunt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Life’s Unquiet Dream: "Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow"

Percy Bysshe Shelley was a remarkably unique poet within the Romantic Movement. His writing evinced more maturity than that of the others, at least in my opinion. He wrote with emotion and imagination, defying current traditions like all the romantics; but he went so far to the edge of society that it kicked against him. Along with Byron and Keats, he was part of the second generation of the romantic movement. Byron struggled with problems he created for himself with his lifestyle, and Keats suffered financially, socially, and with major sickness of which he died young. But, Shelley's problems arose from his own rebellions. He was like a madman setting a match to his house in a thunderstorm, and raging at the flames.

Where Byron's focus was on experiencing pleasure, and Keat's was a search for beauty; Shelley's focus was on truth, or his conception of it. This was epitomized by his rebelliousness toward his father at home, and later toward his teachers at university. He wrote a paper promoting the ideas of atheism, under a pseudonym of course. He was charged with writing it without even a trial, and kicked out of school.

"It is not even until lately that mankind have admitted that happiness is the sole end of the science of ethics,"

Shelley thought ethics were to be defined by happiness... his own happiness I suppose. He didn't believe in traditions of the system, such as marriage, though he was twice convinced to actually marry. His second wife was Mary Shelley who wrote Frankenstein. Oddly, this collection includes Frankenstein on the off chance that Percy actually wrote it with his wife. Frankenstein is nothing like his writing. (Of course, then people had a difficult time believing that a woman had actual thoughts, let alone wrote anything.)

A government official denied Shelley his parental rights. This was a major problem with which he struggled, (or rather raged publicly and in poetry.) Oddly, even Byron was on record as having said that he felt Shelley should not be allowed to raise children. But, Shelley's poetry was more mature themed than that of the other two 'eternal children.' But, like them, Shelley died young. Byron died when he was thirty-six, Keats when he was twenty-five, and Shelley a month before his thirtieth birthday.

All this aside, Shelley wrote beautiful poetry. He had a deep connection with the English language. I had only ever read his poetry until now with this collection. I enjoyed his poetry, but his essays were not to my taste. His ideas were bizarre. As to his dramas, suffice it to say I will in future stick with his poetry. The biography is well written and informative. The work as a whole is definitely worth reading for those interested in Shelley's writings and his short life. But, you may find yourself picking through the pages.

I've gone overboard with the quotations here, since I do like much of Shelley's poetry, so I will just list an overabundance of his best lines below for those who are interested.

Quotations from Shelley's Work:

"The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere Each vapour that obscured the sunset’s ray; And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day: Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen."

"Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling, Cold are the damps on a dying man’s brow, — Stern are the seas when the wild waves are rolling, And sad is the grave where a loved one lies low;"

"Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind Which from thy wilds even now methinks I feel... Do thou, wild Cambria, calm each struggling thought; Cast thy sweet veil of rocks and woods between, That by the soul to indignation wrought Mountains and dells be mingled with the scene; Let me forever be what I have been,"

"Fierce roars the midnight storm O’er the wild mountain, Dark clouds the night deform, Swift rolls the fountain — See! o’er yon rocky height, Dim mists are flying — See by the moon’s pale light, Poor Laura’s dying!"

"there is a harmony In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, Which through the summer is not heard or seen, As if it could not be, as if it had not been!"

"Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging, Children of elder time, in whose devotion The chainless winds still come and ever came To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging To hear — an old and solemn harmony;"

"My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim Upon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing, Far far away into the regions dim Of rapture — as a boat, with swift sails winging Its way adown some many-winding river, Speeds through dark forests o’er the waters swinging…"

"Moonbeam, why art thou so pale, As thou walkest o’er the dewy dale, Where humble wild-flowers grow? Is it to mimic me? But that can never be; For thine orb is bright, And the clouds are light, That at intervals shadow the star-studded night."

"We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, Streaking the darkness radiantly! — yet soon Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:"

"They have taken thy brother and sister dear, They have made them unfit for thee; They have withered the smile and dried the tear Which should have been sacred to me. To a blighting faith and a cause of crime They have bound them slaves in youthly prime, And they will curse my name and thee Because we fearless are and free."

"Whether the dead find, oh, not sleep! but rest, And are the uncomplaining things they seem, Or live, or drop in the deep sea of Love; Oh, that like thine, mine epitaph were — Peace!’"

"Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging, Children of elder time, in whose devotion The chainless winds still come and ever came To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging To hear — an old and solemn harmony;"

[Steven Peterson · Rating 5 out of 5]

First, William Meredith writes a brief but useful essay to put Shelley's works into a context. He neither overpraises the poet nor dismisses him as overrated.

Second, it's the poetry itself that is crucial for any such volume. On page 28, we come across a poem that I think is wonderful, "Mutability." This indicates that there are few constants, and closes with a couple wonderful lines:

"Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Naught may endure but mutability."

Brief, but telling. One of my favorite of Shelley's poems.

Then, perhaps, my favorite poem of all: "Ozymandias." What a wonderful warning against the Greeks' tragic flaw of hubris. The final five lines say it all:

"'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Powerful stuff, speaking to the futility of those who are arrogant.

And so many more poems. . . . The anti-war poem, "Similes for Two Political Characters in 1819," which closes with the line:

"Two vipers tangled into one."

I once used one of his poems, "To Sophia [Miss Stacey:]," in a letter to a special person in my life at that time.

And, at this point in my life, his lament about aging, "A Lament," takes on some poignancy.

And so on. . . .

This is a special slim little volume that I bought decades ago, but it still resonates.

[Les Wilson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed this book even though Shelly is not one of my favourite poets.

[Fatlinda Sadiku Terziu]

i need to read for percy bysshe shelley

[Erika · Rating 2 out of 5]

Jotenkin tuo mitallisuus tuntui tässä pöljältä. Kovin on hurmahenkistä tavaraa. En jaksanut heittäytyä.

[meg ♡ · Rating 5 out of 5]

My favorites include The Cloud, Ode to the West Wind, and To a Skylark.

[WR James · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great value and well presented, with few glitches. If you haven't read any Shelly, where have you been. Give Love's Philosophy a go, then read the rest.