Date: 1817, 1818

"But the dark fiend who with his iron pen / Dipped in scorn's fiery poison, makes his fame / Enduring there, would o'er the heads of men / Pass harmless, if they scorned to make their hearts his den."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror, / Gape like a hell within!"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"Yet am I king over myself, and rule / The torturing and conflicting throngs within, / As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"On a poet's lips I slept / Dreaming like a love-adept / In the sound his breathing kept; / Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, / But feeds on the aëreal kisses / Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

"Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow / Back to the burning fountain whence it came."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

And "if the seal is set, / Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind, / Break it not thou!"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)