Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

“ I dread the worst. Oh, careless nymphs! oh, heedless Proserpine! And did you leave her wandering by herself? She is immortal,–yet unusual fear Runs through my veins. Let all the woods be sought, Let every dryad, every gamesome faun Tell where they last beheld her snowy feet Tread the soft, mossy paths of the wild wood. But that I see the base of Etna firm I well might fear that she had fallen a prey To Earth-born Typheus, who might have arisen And seized her as the fairest child of heaven, That in his dreary caverns she lies bound; It is not so: all is as safe and calm As when I left my child. ”

“ And at night they sleep In the rocking deep Beneath the Ortygian shore;– Like spirits that lie In the azure sky, When they love, but live no more. PROSERPINE.
Thanks, Ino dear, you have beguiled an hour With poesy that might make pause to list The nightingale in her sweet evening song. But now no more of ease and idleness, The sun stoops to the west, and Enna's plain Is overshadowed by the growing form Of giant Etna:–Nymphs, let us arise, And cull the sweetest flowers of the field, And with swift fingers twine a blooming wreathe For my dear Mother's rich and waving hair. ”

“ Welcome, dear Proserpine! Welcome to light, To this green earth and to your Mother's arms. You are too beautiful for Pluto's Queen; In the dark Stygian air your blooming cheeks Have lost their roseate tint, and your bright form Has faded in that night unfit for thee. PROSERPINE.
Then I again behold thee, Mother dear:– Again I tread the flowery plain of Enna, And clasp thee, Arethuse, & you, my nymphs; I have escaped from hateful Tartarus, The abode of furies and all loathed shapes That thronged around me, making hell more black. Oh! ”

“ The endless circle of the year will bring Joy in its turn, and seperation sad; Six months to light and Earth,–six months to Hell. PROSERPINE.
Dear Mother, let me kiss that tear which steals Down your pale cheek altered by care and grief. This is not misery; 'tis but a slight change Prom our late happy lot. Six months with thee, Each moment freighted with an age of love: And the six short months in saddest Tartarus Shall pass in dreams of swift returning joy. Six months together we shall dwell on earth, Six months in dreams we shall companions be, Jove's doom is void; we are forever joined. ”

“ INO.
We will all leave the light and go with thee, In Hell thou shalt be girt by Heaven-born nymphs, Elysium shall be Enna,–thou'lt not mourn Thy natal plain, which will have lost its worth Having lost thee, its nursling and its Queen. ARETHUSA.
I will sink down with thee;–my lily crown Shall bloom in Erebus, portentous loss To Earth, which by degrees will fade & fall In envy of our happier lot in Hell;– And the bright sun and the fresh winds of heaven Shall light its depths and fan its stagnant air. [They cling round Proserpine; the Shades of Hell seperate and stand between them.] ”

“ Then you descend to deepest night and reign Great Queen of Tartarus, 'mid shadows dire, Offspring of Hell,–or in the silent groves Of, fair Elysium through which Lethe runs, The sleepy river; where the windless air Is never struck by flight or song of bird,– But all is calm and clear, bestowing rest, After the toil of life, to wretched men, Whom thus the Gods reward for sufferings Gods cannot know ”

“ I faint with weariness: a dreadful thirst Possesses me! Must I give up the search? Oh! never, dearest Proserpine, until I once more clasp thee in my vacant arms! Help me, dear Arethuse! fill some deep shell With the clear waters of thine ice-cold spring, And bring it me;–I faint with heat and thirst. ARETHUSA.
My words are better than my freshest waves: I saw your Proserpine– CERES.
Arethusa, where? Tell me! my heart beats quick, & hope and fear Cause my weak limbs to fail me. ”

“ Nor seed of grass, Or corn shall grow, thou absent from the earth; But all shall lie beneath in hateful night Until at thy return, the fresh green springs, The fields are covered o'er with summer plants. ”

“ Thy fate, sweet Proserpine, is sealed by Jove, When Enna is starred by flowers, and the sun Shoots his hot rays strait on the gladsome land, When Summer reigns, then thou shalt live on Earth, And tread these plains, or sporting with your nymphs, Or at your Mother's side, in peaceful joy. But when hard frost congeals the bare, black ground, The trees have lost their leaves, & painted birds Wailing for food sail through the piercing air ”

“ Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom Gods, and men, and beasts have birth, Leaf, and blade, and bud, and blossom, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child Proserpine. If with mists of evening dew Thou dost nourish these young flowers Till they grow in scent and hue Fairest children of the hours, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child Proserpine. ”

“ Why does my heart misgive? & scalding tears, That should but mourn, now prophecy her loss? Oh, Proserpine! Where'er your luckless fate Has hurried you,–to wastes of desart sand, Or black Cymmerian cave, or dread Hell, Yet Ino still will follow! ”

“ She is not lost,–trust me, she has but strayed Up some steep mountain path, or in yon dell, Or to the rock where yellow wall-flowers grow, Scaling with venturous step the narrow path Which the goats fear to tread ”

“ The Thunderer frowned, & heaven shook with dread I bear his will to thee, 'tis fixed by fate, Nor prayer nor murmur e'er can alter it. If Proserpine while she has lived in hell Has not polluted by Tartarian food Her heavenly essence, then she may return, And wander without fear on Enna's plain, Or take her seat among the Gods above. If she has touched the fruits of Erebus, She never may return to upper air, But doomed to dwell amidst the shades of death, The wife of Pluto and the Queen of Hell. CERES.
Joy treads upon the sluggish heels of care! The child of heaven disdains Tartarian food. ”