"We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.
We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.
We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;
It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free.
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but mutability!" (67).
We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.
We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;
It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free.
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but mutability!" (67).
Shelley interjects the last two stanzas of the poem Mutability by Percy Bysshe Shelley, the man Mary eloped with when she was almost seventeen. The poem seems to describe Victor's situation with perfect accuracy; he had dreams of his monster that made sleep terrifying; he would be perfectly happy until a sudden thought made him remember his creation; yet in the end, it matters not what Frankenstein feels, for he loses almost everything. All that remains is the ability to change.
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