Explore "The Revolt of Islam" by Percy Bysshe Shelley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
So we sate joyous as the morning ray / Which fed upon the wrecks of night and storm / Now lingering on the winds; light airs did play / Among the dewy weeds, the sun was warm, / And we sate linked in the inwoven charm / Of converse and caresses sweet and deep, / Speechless caresses, talk that might disarm / Time, though he wield the darts of death and sleep, / And those thrice mortal barbs in his own poison steep.
I told her of my sufferings and my madness, / And how, awakened from that dreamy mood / By Liberty's uprise, the strength of gladness / Came to my spirit in my solitude; / And all that now I was-while tears pursued / Each other down her fair and listening cheek / Fast as the thoughts which fed them, like a flood / From sunbright dales; and when I ceased to speak, / Her accents soft and sweet the pausing air did wake.