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{{Style P-Poem|poem={{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note|XI}}
And what art thou? I know, but dare not speak:
:Time may interpret to his silent years.
Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,
:And in the light thine ample forehead wears,
And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears,
:And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy
Is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears:
:And through thine eyes, even in thy soul I see
:A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.
{{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note|XII}}
They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth,
:Of glorious parents thou aspiring Child.
I wonder not—for One then left this earth
:Whose life was like a setting planet mild,
Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled
:Of its departing glory; still her fame
Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild
:Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim
:The shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name.
|signature=The Revolt of Islam<br>(a fragment of [https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Revolt_of_Islam/Dedication Dedication])<br>by Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1817}}
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{{Style P-Poem|poem={{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note|VII}}
Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart
:Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain;
How beautiful and calm and free thou wert
:In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain
Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,
:And walked as free as light the clouds among,
Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain
:From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung
To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long!
|signature=The Revolt of Islam<br>(a fragment of [https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Revolt_of_Islam/Dedication Dedication])<br>by Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1817}}
...
{{Style P-Poem|poem={{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note| I }}
So now my summer-task is ended, Mary,
:And I return to thee, mine own heart’s home;
As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faery,
:Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome;
Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame become
:A star among the stars of mortal night,
If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom,
:Its doubtful promise thus I would unite
With thy beloved name, thou Child of love and light.
|signature=The Revolt of Islam<br>(a fragment of [https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Revolt_of_Islam/Dedication Dedication])<br>by Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1817}}
{{Style S-HPB SB. Continues on | 3-181}}
{{Style S-HPB SB. Continues on | 3-181}}