THE DAEMON GOES OUT AT ONE DOOR, by Percy Bysshe Shelley: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This scene comes from Shelley's translation of Calderón's Spanish play, where a young woman named Justina is swept away by an inexplicable feeling of love.
The poem
AND JUSTINA ENTERS AT ANOTHER.] THE FIRST VOICE: There is no form in which the fire Of love its traces has impressed not. Man lives far more in love’s desire Than by life’s breath, soon possessed not. If all that lives must love or die, _30 All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky, With one consent to Heaven cry That the glory far above All else in life is— ALL: Love! oh, Love! JUSTINA: Thou melancholy Thought which art _35 So flattering and so sweet, to thee When did I give the liberty Thus to afflict my heart? What is the cause of this new Power Which doth my fevered being move, _40 Momently raging more and more? What subtle Pain is kindled now Which from my heart doth overflow Into my senses?— NOTE: _36 flattering Boscombe manuscript; fluttering 1824. ALL: Love! oh, Love! JUSTINA: ’Tis that enamoured Nightingale _45 Who gives me the reply; He ever tells the same soft tale Of passion and of constancy To his mate, who rapt and fond, Listening sits, a bough beyond. _50 Be silent, Nightingale—no more Make me think, in hearing thee Thus tenderly thy love deplore, If a bird can feel his so, What a man would feel for me. _55 And, voluptuous Vine, O thou Who seekest most when least pursuing,— To the trunk thou interlacest Art the verdure which embracest, And the weight which is its ruin,— _60 No more, with green embraces, Vine, Make me think on what thou lovest,— For whilst thus thy boughs entwine I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist, How arms might be entangled too. _65 Light-enchanted Sunflower, thou Who gazest ever true and tender On the sun’s revolving splendour! Follow not his faithless glance With thy faded countenance, _70 Nor teach my beating heart to fear, If leaves can mourn without a tear, How eyes must weep! O Nightingale, Cease from thy enamoured tale,— Leafy Vine, unwreathe thy bower, _75 Restless Sunflower, cease to move,— Or tell me all, what poisonous Power Ye use against me— NOTES: _58 To]Who to cj. Rossetti. _63 whilst thus Rossetti, Forman, Dowden; whilst thou thus 1824. ALL: Love! Love! Love! JUSTINA: It cannot be!—Whom have I ever loved? Trophies of my oblivion and disdain, _80 Floro and Lelio did I not reject? And Cyprian?— [SHE BECOMES TROUBLED AT THE NAME OF CYPRIAN.] Did I not requite him With such severity, that he has fled Where none has ever heard of him again?— Alas! I now begin to fear that this _85 May be the occasion whence desire grows bold, As if there were no danger. From the moment That I pronounced to my own listening heart, ‘Cyprian is absent!’—O me miserable! I know not what I feel! [MORE CALMLY.] It must be pity _90 To think that such a man, whom all the world Admired, should be forgot by all the world, And I the cause. [SHE AGAIN BECOMES TROUBLED.] And yet if it were pity, Floro and Lelio might have equal share, For they are both imprisoned for my sake. _95 [CALMLY.] Alas! what reasonings are these? it is Enough I pity him, and that, in vain, Without this ceremonious subtlety. And, woe is me! I know not where to find him now, Even should I seek him through this wide world. _100 NOTE: _89 me miserable]miserable me editions 1839. [ENTER DAEMON.] DAEMON: Follow, and I will lead thee where he is. JUSTINA: And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither, Into my chamber through the doors and locks? Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madness Has formed in the idle air? DAEMON: No. I am one _105 Called by the Thought which tyrannizes thee From his eternal dwelling; who this day Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian. JUSTINA: So shall thy promise fail. This agony Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul _110 May sweep imagination in its storm; The will is firm. DAEMON: Already half is done In the imagination of an act. The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains; Let not the will stop half-way on the road. _115 JUSTINA: I will not be discouraged, nor despair, Although I thought it, and although ’tis true That thought is but a prelude to the deed:— Thought is not in my power, but action is: I will not move my foot to follow thee. _120 DAEMON: But a far mightier wisdom than thine own Exerts itself within thee, with such power Compelling thee to that which it inclines That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then Resist, Justina? NOTE: _123 inclines]inclines to cj. Rossetti. JUSTINA: By my free-will. DAEMON: I _125 Must force thy will. JUSTINA: It is invincible; It were not free if thou hadst power upon it. [HE DRAWS, BUT CANNOT MOVE HER.] DAEMON: Come, where a pleasure waits thee. JUSTINA: It were bought Too dear. DAEMON: ‘Twill soothe thy heart to softest peace. JUSTINA: ’Tis dread captivity. DAEMON: ’Tis joy, ’tis glory. _130 JUSTINA: ’Tis shame, ’tis torment, ’tis despair. DAEMON: But how Canst thou defend thyself from that or me, If my power drags thee onward? JUSTINA: My defence Consists in God. [HE VAINLY ENDEAVOURS TO FORCE HER, AND AT LAST RELEASES HER.] DAEMON: Woman, thou hast subdued me, Only by not owning thyself subdued. _135 But since thou thus findest defence in God, I will assume a feigned form, and thus Make thee a victim of my baffled rage. For I will mask a spirit in thy form Who will betray thy name to infamy, _140 And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss, First by dishonouring thee, and then by turning False pleasure to true ignominy. [EXIT.] JUSTINA: I Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven May scatter thy delusions, and the blot _145 Upon my fame vanish in idle thought, Even as flame dies in the envious air, And as the floweret wanes at morning frost; And thou shouldst never—But, alas! to whom Do I still speak?—Did not a man but now _150 Stand here before me?—No, I am alone, And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly? Or can the heated mind engender shapes From its own fear? Some terrible and strange Peril is near. Lisander! father! lord! _155 Livia!— [ENTER LISANDER AND LIVIA.] LISANDER: Oh, my daughter! What? LIVIA: What! JUSTINA: Saw you A man go forth from my apartment now?— I scarce contain myself! LISANDER: A man here! JUSTINA: Have you not seen him? LIVIA: No, Lady. JUSTINA: I saw him. LISANDER: ’Tis impossible; the doors _160 Which led to this apartment were all locked. LIVIA [ASIDE]: I daresay it was Moscon whom she saw, For he was locked up in my room. LISANDER: It must Have been some image of thy fantasy. Such melancholy as thou feedest is _165 Skilful in forming such in the vain air Out of the motes and atoms of the day. LIVIA: My master’s in the right. JUSTINA: Oh, would it were Delusion; but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom _170 My heart was torn in fragments; ay, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame; So potent was the charm that, had not God Shielded my humble innocence from wrong, I should have sought my sorrow and my shame _175 With willing steps.—Livia, quick, bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremes Even in the temple of the highest God Where secretly the faithful worship. LIVIA: Here. NOTE: _179 Where Rossetti; Which 1824. JUSTINA [PUTTING ON HER CLOAK]: In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I _180 Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, Wasting away! LISANDER: And I will go with thee. LIVIA: When I once see them safe out of the house I shall breathe freely. JUSTINA: So do I confide In thy just favour, Heaven! LISANDER: Let us go. _185 JUSTINA: Thine is the cause, great God! turn for my sake, And for Thine own, mercifully to me! *** STANZAS FROM CALDERON’S CISMA DE INGLATERRA.
This scene comes from Shelley's translation of Calderón's Spanish play, where a young woman named Justina is swept away by an inexplicable feeling of love. She then encounters a Daemon that attempts to pull her toward the man she secretly longs for. Armed only with her willpower and faith in God, she resists and ultimately triumphs. The drama unfolds as a struggle between desire and self-control, resembling a supernatural wrestling match.
Line-by-line
THE FIRST VOICE: There is no form in which the fire / Of love its traces has impressed not.
JUSTINA: Thou melancholy Thought which art / So flattering and so sweet, to thee
JUSTINA: 'Tis that enamoured Nightingale / Who gives me the reply;
JUSTINA: It cannot be!—Whom have I ever loved? / Trophies of my oblivion and disdain,
[ENTER DAEMON.] DAEMON: Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.
JUSTINA: By my free-will. / DAEMON: I / Must force thy will.
JUSTINA: I / Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven / May scatter thy delusions,
JUSTINA: In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I / Quench the consuming fire in which I burn,
Tone & mood
The tone unfolds in layers throughout the scene. The opening chorus is assertive and hymn-like, radiating a confident sense of love's universal power. Justina's early speeches feel restless and full of doubt — she resembles someone wrestling with the truth she already senses. The confrontation with the Daemon is tense and combative, reminiscent of a courtroom debate. By the end, the tone shifts to one that is trembling and reverent: Justina is shaken, humbled, and relying heavily on her faith to keep herself steady.
Symbols & metaphors
- The Nightingale — The nightingale symbolizes intense and sometimes painful love. It sings its 'enamoured tale' to its mate, and Justina perceives in its song a reflection of human desire. She urges it to be quiet because its melody makes her consider what a man might feel for her — precisely the thought she wishes to avoid.
- The Vine — The vine wrapping around a tree trunk symbolizes the entangling and possessive aspects of love. In Shelley’s Justina, it's called a 'sophist' — a clever deceiver — since its attractive green embrace also burdens and harms the tree it clings to. It represents love as something that appears devoted but can ultimately destroy what it holds.
- The Sunflower — The sunflower, which faithfully turns toward the sun but is ultimately left behind when it moves, symbolizes unrequited or unequal love. Its 'faded countenance' reflects the pain of someone who has poured their heart into a love that doesn’t reciprocate. Justina worries about becoming this — devoted, faithful, and yet abandoned.
- The Daemon — The Daemon represents the external manifestation of internal temptation. He is called forth by Justina's thoughts of Cyprian, meaning he is, in a very real way, shaped by her desire. His failure to impose his will on her isn't merely a supernatural loss — it underscores the essence of moral agency: evil can entice but cannot force.
- The Cloak as Shroud of Snow — When Justina wraps herself in her cloak to head to the temple, she refers to it as a 'shroud of snow.' Snow evokes purity and coldness — the very qualities she wants to reclaim over the flames of desire. The term 'shroud' also carries a somber weight: it implies that her chastity is something she would die for, or that it demands a kind of emotional death to uphold.
- The Locked Doors — The locked doors of Justina's chamber, which the Daemon passes through without a word, symbolize the futility of trying to keep temptation at bay with physical barriers. No lock can shut out a thought. The doors meant to safeguard her are ineffective against an adversary that invades through the mind.
Historical context
Shelley translated this passage from *El mágico prodigioso* (The Wonder-Working Magician), a play by the Spanish Golden Age playwright Pedro Calderón de la Barca, written around 1637. The play tells the story of Saint Cyprian of Antioch, a pagan sorcerer who makes a deal with the Devil to win the affection of the Christian virgin Justina, ultimately leading to his own conversion to Christianity. Shelley worked on the translation in 1822, the final year of his life, while in Pisa with friends like Byron. He was captivated by Calderón's mix of philosophical ideas and theatrical flair, and the scene's exploration of free will, desire, and divine protection clearly struck a chord with his own concerns. The translation was published posthumously in 1824, and Shelley's version stands out for its lyrical precision and the way it heightens the philosophical themes of the original.
FAQ
It's a scene from a play — specifically, Shelley's translation of the Spanish Golden Age drama *El mágico prodigioso* by Pedro Calderón de la Barca. Shelley translated it into verse, giving it a poetic feel. The full play follows Cyprian, a pagan scholar who strikes a deal with the Devil to win Justina's love, but ultimately converts to Christianity. This scene highlights Justina's inner struggle with her desires and her confrontation with the Daemon.
The Daemon is a devil-like figure who tries to lure Justina into pursuing her desire for Cyprian. In the larger context of the play, Cyprian has made a deal with this Daemon to win Justina's affection. The Daemon's role is to persuade Justina to approach Cyprian on her own terms. When he can't coerce her, he shifts tactics and threatens to send a spirit that looks like her to ruin her reputation — moving from temptation to defamation.
This is the scene's key philosophical moment. The Daemon insists he can make Justina act against her wishes. She counters that if her will could be imposed upon, it wouldn't truly be free will—it would simply be coercion. Her defense relies not on physical strength or cunning, but on the logical and theological stance that true moral choice cannot be overridden by external forces. The Daemon cannot physically move her, as confirmed by the stage direction.
She is reflecting her own emotions onto nature and then attempting to suppress them. Each creature appears to express a unique facet of love — the nightingale's fervent song, the vine's supportive grip, the sunflower's loyal yet unreciprocated affection. When she asks them to cease, Justina is actually pleading for her own feelings to quiet down. This acts as a way of dramatizing her internal conflict by projecting it onto the surroundings.
Justina has been naming the men she turned down as evidence that she’s immune to love. When she reaches Cyprian, the stage direction interrupts her — she visibly tenses at the sound of his name. This moment reveals a flaw in her reasoning. She understands that her harshness toward him, which pushed him away, might have intensified her feelings for him. Sometimes, the absence of someone you've rejected can feel stronger than having them around.
When Justina wraps her cloak around herself to go to the temple, she calls it a 'shroud of snow' that might soothe the fire burning within her. Snow is cold and pure, contrasting sharply with the fire of desire. A shroud evokes burial cloth, adding a darker tone—her purity is something she seems willing to sacrifice everything for, or that demands a sort of emotional death to maintain. It's a powerful, somewhat unsettling way to conclude the scene.
Shelley translated it from Calderón's Spanish, but his version is so uniquely influenced by his poetic instincts that it feels like a creative piece on its own. He condensed certain sections, refined the philosophical arguments, and infused the entire work with a lyrical intensity that unmistakably reflects his style. He worked on it in 1822, the final year of his life, and it was published posthumously in 1824.
The play treats him as real — he's a supernatural figure sent by Cyprian's pact. However, Shelley's translation introduces a hint of ambiguity. After the Daemon departs, Justina wonders if she actually saw a real figure or if her 'heated mind' created an image born from fear. Her father proposes it was simply a product of her melancholy imagination. The text doesn't completely shut that door, allowing the scene to function on two levels: as supernatural drama and as a glimpse into a mind grappling with intense emotional pressure.