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suppose you had not time to procure them. Any other books you or Henry think would accord with my design, Oilier will furnish you with.

I should like very much to hear what is said of my "Adonais," and you would oblige me by cutting out, or making Oilier cut out, any respectable criticism on it and sending it me ; you know I do not mind a crown or two in postage. The Epipsychidion is a mystery; as to real flesh and blood, you know that I do not deal in those articles ; you might as well go to a gin-shop for a leg of mutton, as expect anything human or earthly from me. I desired Oilier not to circulate this piece except to the avrtroi, and even they, it seems, are inclined to approximate me to the circle of a servant girl and her sweetheart. But I intend to write a Symposium of my own to set all this right.

I am just finishing a dramatic poem, called Hellas, upon the contest now raging in Greece— a sort of imitation of the Persse of jEschylus, full of lyrical poetry. I try to be what I might have been, but am not successful. I find that (I dare say I shall quote wrong,)

"Den herrlichsten, den sich der Geist emprftngt Dr&ngt immer fremd und fremder Stuff sich an."

The Edinburgh Review lies. Godwin's answer to Malthus is victorious and decisive; and that it should not be generally acknowledged as such, is full evidence of the influence of successful evil and tyranny. What Godwin is, compared to Plato and Lord Bacon, we well know; but compared with these miserable sciolists, he is a vulture to a worm.

I read the Greek dramatists and Plato for ever. You are right about Antigone; how sublime a picture of a woman! and what think you of the choruses, and especially the lyrical complaints of the godlike victim 1 and the menaces of Tiresias, and their rapid fulfilment! Some of us have, in a prior existence, been in love with an Antigone, and that makes us And no full content in any mortal tie. As to books, I advise you to live near the British Museum, and read there. I have read, since I saw you, the "Jungfrau von Orleans" of Schiller,—a fine play, if the fifth act did not fall off. Some Greeks, escaped from the defeat in Wallachia, have passed through Pisa to re-embark at Leghorn for the Morca; and the Tuscan Government allowed them, during their stay and passage, three lire each per day and their lodging; that is good. Remember me and Mary most kindly to Mrs. Gisborne and Henry, and believe me,

Yours most affectionately,

P. B. S.

To J. SEVERN, Esq,

Pita, KovewtUr SMU, 18S1.

Dear Sir,.—I send yon the elegy on poor Keats —and I wish it were better worth jour acceptance. You will see, by the preface, that it was written before I could obtain any particular account of his last moments ; all that I still know, was communicated to me by a friend who had derived his information from Colonel Finch; I have ventured to express, as I felt, the respect and admiration which your conduct towards him demands.

In spite of his transcendent genius, Keats never was, nor ever will be, a popular poet; and the total neglect and obscurity in which the astonishing remnants of his mind still lie, was hardly to lie dissipated by a writer, who, however he may differ from Keats in more important qualities, at least resembles him in that accidental one, a want of popularity.

I have little hope, therefore, that the poem I send you will excite any attention, nor do I feel assured that a critical notice of his writings would find a single reader. But for these considerations, it had been my intention to have collected tho remnants of his compositions, and to have published them with a life and criticism.—Has he left any poems or writings of whatsoever kind, and in whose possession are they f Perhaps you would oblige me by information on this point.

Many thanks for the picture you promise me: I shall consider it among the most sacred relics of the past.

For my part, I little expected, when I last saw Keats at my friend Leigh Hunt's, that I should survive him.

Should you ever pass through Pisa, I hops to have the pleasure of seeing you, and of cultivating an acquaintance into something pleasant, begun under such melancholy auspices.

Accept, my dear sir, the assurances of my sincere esteem, and believe me, Your most sincere and faithful servant, Percy B. Shelley.

Do you know Leigh Hunt! I expect him and his family here every day.

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than any poem I ever published. Am I to thank you for the revision of the press 1 or who acted as midwife to this last of my orphans, introducing it to oblivion, and me to my accustomed failure? May the cause it celebrates bo more fortunate than either! Tell me how you like Hellas, and give me your opinion freely. It was written without much care, and in one of those few moments of enthusiasm which now seldom visit me, and which make me pay dear for their visits. I know what to think of Adonais, but what to think of those who confound it with the many bad poems of the day, I know not.

I have been reading over and over again Faust, and always with sensations which no other composition excites. It deepens the gloom and augments the rapidity of ideas, and would therefore seem to me an unfit study for any person who is a prey to the reproaches of memory, and the delusions of an imagination not to be restrained. And yet the pleasure of sympathising with emotions known only to few, although they derive their solo charm from despair, and the scorn of the narrow good we can attain in our present state, seems more than to ease the pain which belongs to them. Perhaps all discontent with the lest (to use a Platonic sophism,) supposes the sense of a just claim to the greater, and that we admirers of Faust are on the right road to Paradise. Such a supposition is not more absurd, and is certainly less demoniacal, than that of Wordsworth, where he says—

"This earth, Which Is the world of all of us, and where Wtflnd our happine*tt or not at alt." As if, after sixty years' suffering hero, we were to be roasted alive for sixty million more in hell, or charitably annihilated by a coup de yrdce of the bungler who brought us into existence at first!

Have you read Caldcron's Magico Prodigiosot I find a Btriking singularity between Faust and this drama, and if I were to acknowledge Coleridge's distinction, should say Goethe was the I greatest philosopher, and Calderon the greatest poet. Cyprian evidently furnished the germ of Faust, as Faust may furnish the germ of other poems; although it is as different from it in structure and plan as the acorn from the oak. I havo — imagine my presumption — translated several scenes from both, as the basis of a paper for our journal. I am well content with those from Calderon, which in fact gave me very little trouble; but those from Faust—I feel how imperfect a representation, even with all the licence I assume to figure to myself how Goethe would have written in English, my words convey. No one but Coleridge is capable of this work.

We have seen here a translation of some scenes, and indeed the most remarkable ones, accompanying those astonishing etchings which have been published in England from a German master. It is not bad—and faithful enough—but how weak! how incompetent to represent Faust! I have only attempted the scenes omitted in this translation, and would send you that of the Walpurgisnacht, if I thought Oilier would place the postage to my account. What etchings those are! I am never satiated with looking at them; and, I fear, it is the only sort of translation of which Faust is susceptible. I never perfectly understood the Hartz Mountain scene, until I saw the etching; and then, Margaret in the summer-house with Faust! The artist makes one envy his happiness that he can sketch such things with calmness, which I only dared look upon once, and which made my brain swim round only to touch the leaf on the opposite side of which I knew that it was figured. Whether it is that the artist has surpassed Faust, or that the pencil surpasses language in Borne subjects, I know not, or that I am more affected by a visible image, but the etching certainly excite,1 me far more than the poem it illustrated. Do you remember the fifty-fourth letter of the first part of the "Nouvellc Hcloise!" Goethe, in a subsequent scene, evidently had that letter in his mind, and this etching is an idealism of it. So much for the world of sliadows 1

What think you of Lord Byron's last volume! In my opinion it contains finer poetry than lias appeared in England since the publication of Paradise Regained. Cain is apocalyptic—it is a revelation not before communicated to man. I write nothing but by fits. I have done some of Charles I.; but although the poetry succeeded very well, I cannot seize on the conception of the subject as a whole, and seldom now touch the canvas. You know I don't think much about Reviews, nor of the fame they give, nor that they take away. It is absurd in any Review to criticise Adonais, and still more to pretend tliat the verses are bad. Prometheus was never intended for more than five or six persons.

And how arc you getting on! Do your plans still want success! Do you regret Italy 1 or any thing that Italy contains 1 And in case of an entire failure in your expectations, do you think of returning here 1 You see the first blow has been made at funded property :■■—do you intend to confide and invite a second! You would already have saved something per cent., if you had invested your property in Tuscan land. The next best thing would be to invest it in English, and reside upon it I tremble for the consequences, to you personally, from a prolonged confidence in the funds. Justice, policy, the hopes of the nation and renewed institutions, demand your ruin, and I, for one, cannot bring myself to desire what is in itself desirable, till you are free. You see how liberal I am of advice; but you know the motives that suggest it. What is Henry about, and how are his prospects i Tell him that some adventurers are engaged upon a steam-boat at Leghorn, to make the trajet wo projected. I hope he is charitable enough to pray that they may succeed better than we did.

Remember me most affectionately to Mrs. Gisborne, to whom, as weft as to yourself, I consider that this letter is written. How is she, and how are you all in health? And pray tell me, what are your plans of life, and how Henry succeeds, and whether he is married or not? How can 1 send you such small sums as you may want for postages, &c, for I do not mean to tax with my unreasonable letters both your purse and your patience 1 We go this summer to Spezzia; but

direct as ever to Pisa,—Mrs. will forward

our letters. If you see anything which you think would particularly interest me, pray make Oilier pay for sending it out by post. Give my best and

affectionate regards to H , to whom I do not

write at present, imagining that you will give him a piece of this letter.

Ever most faithfully yours, P. B. S.


To • • Esq.

Pita, April \lth, 182* My Dear • •—I have, as yet, received neither the * • *,nor his metaphysical companions—Time, my Lord, has a wallet on his bad; and I suppose he has bagged them by tho way. As he has had a good deal of alms for oblivion out of me, I think he might as well have favoured me this once ; I have, indeed, just dropped another mite into his treasury, called Hellas, which I know not how to send to you ; but I dare say, some fury of the Hades of authors will bring one to Paris. It is a poem written on the Greek cause last summer—a sort of lyrical, dramatic, nondescript piece of business. You will have heard of a row we have had here, which, I dare say, will grow to a serious size before it arrives at Paris. It was, in fact, a trifling piece of business enough, arising from an insult of a drunken dragoon, offered to one of our party, and only serious, because one of Lord B.'s servants wounded the fellow dangerously with

a pitchfork. He is now, however, recovering, and the echo of the affair will be beard long after the original report has ceased.

Lord Byron has read me one or two letters of Moore to him,* in which Moore speaks with great kindness of me ; and of course I cannot but feel flattered by the approbation of a man, my inferiority to whom I am proud to acknowledge.— Amongst other things, however, Moore, after giving Lord B. much good advice about public opinion, &c, seems to deprecate Mt influence on his mind, on the subject of religion, and to attribute the tone assumed in " Gain" to my suggestions. Moore cautions him against my influence on this particular, with the most friendly zeal; and it is plain that his motive springs from a desire of benefiting Lord B., without degrading me. I think you know Moore. Pray assure him that I bave not the smallest influence over Lord Byron, in this particular, and if I had, I certainly should employ it to eradicate from his great mind the delusions of Christianity, which, ill spite of his reason, seem perpetually to recur, and to lay in ambush for the hours of sickness and distress. "Cain" was conceived many years ago, and begun before 1 saw him last year at Ravenna. How happy, should I not be to attribute to myself, however indirectly, any participation in that immortal work !— I differ with Moore in thinking Christianity useful to the world; no man of sense can think it true; and the alliance of the monstrous superstitions of the popular worsliip with the pure doctrines of the Theism of such a man as Moore, turns to the profit of the former, and makes the latter the fountain of its own pollution. I agree with him, that the doctrines of the French, and Material Philosophy, are as false as they are pernicious; but still they are better than Christianity, inasmuch as anarchy is better than despotism; for this reason, that the former is for a season, and that the latter is eternal. My admiration of die character, no less than of the genius of Moore, makes me rather wish that he should not have an ill opinion of me.

Where are you 1 We settle this summer near Spezzia; Lord Byron at Leghorn. May not I hope to see you, even for a trip in Italy I I hope your wife and little ones are well. Mine grow* » fine boy, and is quite well.

I have contrived to get my musical oals at Newcastle itself.—My dear • • believe me,

Faithfully yours, P. B. S.

* For Mr. Moore's account of this incident, and him own feelings and opinions on the subject—those imputed to him by Shelley being purely conjeetural—see M<vre'» Life of Byron, Vol. II. p. 284, first edition.



[Lerici, Sunday, April 28rt, 1828.] Dearest Mary,—I am this moment arrived at Lerici, where I am necessarily detained, waiting the furniture, which left Pisa last night at midnight; and as the sea has been calm, and the wind fair, I may expect them every moment. It would not do to leave affairs here in an impiccio, great as is my anxiety to see you.—How are you, my best love! How have you sustained the trials of the journey J Answer me this question, and how my little babe and C • • • are.

Now to business :—Is the Magni House taken 1 if not, pray occupy yourself instantly in finishing the affair, even if you are obliged to go to Sarzana, and send a messenger to mo to tell 'me of your success. I, of course, cannot leave Lerici, to which place the boats (for wc were obliged to take two,) are directed. But you can come over in the same boat that brings this letter, and return in the evening. I ought to say that I do not think that there is accommodation for you all at this inn ; and that, even if there were, you would be better off at Spczzia; but if the Magni House is taken, then there is no possible reason why you should not take a row over in the boat that will bring this— but don't keep the men long. I am anxious to hear from you on every account.*

Ever yours, S.

* I insert a few extracts from the Journal of Williams, as affording a picture of Shelley's habits during these last months of his life. How full he was of hope, life and love, when lost to us for ever!

"Sunday, April 28<».

"Fine. Arrive at Lerici at 1 o'clock—the luirbourmaster called. Not a house to be had. On our telling him we had brought our furniture, his face lengthened considerably, for he informed us that the dogana would amount to £300 English, at least. Dined, and resolved nn sending our things back without unlading—in fact, found ourselves in a devil of a mess. 8. wrote to Mary, whom we heard was at Spczzia.

•• Monday, 201*.

"Cloudy. Accompanied the harbour-master to the chief of the customs at Spezzia. Found him exceedingly polite, and willing to do all that lay in his power to assist us. He will, therefore, take on himself to allow the furniture to come on shore when the boats arrive, and then consider our house as a sort of depot, until further leave from ttie Genoa government. Returned to Lerici somewhat calmed. Heard from Mary at Sarzana, that she had concluded for Casa Magni—but for ourselves no hope.

"lYednnday, May III.

"Cloudy, with rain. Came to Casa Magni after breakfast: the Shelleys having contrived to givo us rooms Without them, heaven knows what we should have done. Employed all day putting the things away. All comfortably settled by four. Passed the evening in talking over our folly and our troubles.



Lerici, May, 1822 My Dear Smith,—It is some time since I have heard from you ; are you still at Versailles 1 Do you still cling to France, and prefer the arts and conveniences of that over-civilised country to the beautiful nature and mighty remains of Italy t As to me, like Anacreon's swallow, I have left my Nile, and have taken up my summer quarters here, in a lonely house, close by the sea-side, surrounded by tho soft and sublime scenery of tho gulf of Spezzia. I do not write ; I have lived too long near Lord Byron, and the sun has extinguished the glow-worm ; for I cannot hope, with St. John, that " the light came into the world, and the world knew it not."

The object of my present letter is, however, a request, and as it concerns that most odious of all subjects, money, I will put it in the shortest shape—Godwin's law-suit, he tells us, is decided against him; and he is adjudged to pay jt'400. He writes, of course, to his daughter in the greatest distress: but we have no money except our income, nor any means of procuring it. My wife has sent him her novel, which is now finished, the copyright of which will probably bring him .£300 or ,£400—as Oilier offered the former sum for it, but as he required a considerable delay for the payment, she rejected his offer. Now, what I wish to know is, whether you could with conve

"Thursday May 2d.

"Cloudy, with Intervals of rain. Went out with Shelley in the boat—fish on the rocks—bad sport. Went in tho evening after some wild ducks—saw nothing but sublime scenery, to which the grandeur of a storm greatly contributed.

"Friday, May 3,1.

"Fine. The captain of the port dispatched a vessel for Shelley's boat. Went to Lerici with 8., being obliged to market there; the servant having returned from Sarzana without being able to procure anything.

"Saturday, May 4th.

"Fine. Went fishing with Shelley. No spurt. Loitered away the whole day. In tho evening tried the rocks again, and had no less than thirty baits taken off by the small fish. Returned late—a heavy swell getting up I think if there are no tides in the Mediterranean, that there are strong currents, on which the moon, both at the full and at the change, has a very powerful effect ; the swell this evening is evidently caused by her influence, for it is quite calm at sea.

"Sunday, MayUh.

"Fine. Kept awake the whole night by a heavy swell, which made a noise on the beach like the discharge of heavy artillery. Tried with Shelley to launch the small flat-bottomed boat through the surf; we succeeded In pushing it through, but shipped a sea on attempting to land. Walk to Lerici along tho beach, by a winding path on the mountain's side. Delightful evening—the scenery most sublime.

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nience lend me the j£400 which you once dedicated to this service, and allow Godwin to have it, under tlie precautions and stipulations which I formerly annexed to its employment. You could not obviously allow this money to lie idle waiting for tins event, without interest I forgot this part of the business till this instant, and now I reflect that I ought to have assured you of the regular

*' Monday, May 6th.

"Fine. Some heavy drops of rain fell to-day, without a cloud being visible. Made a sketch of the western side of the bay. Read a little. Walked with Jane up the mountain.

"After tea, walking with Shelley on the terrace, and observing the effect of moonshine on the waters, he complained of being unusually nervous, and stopping short, he grasped me violently by the arm, and stared stedfastly on the white surf that broke upon the beach under our feet. Observing him sensibly affected, I demanded of him if he were in pain? But he only answered, by saying, 'There it is again—there!' He recovered after some time, and declared that he saw. as plainly as he then saw me, a naked child, {the child of a friend^ who had lately died,) rise from the sea, and clap its hands as in joy, smiling at him. This was a trance that it required some reasoning and philosophy entirely to awaken him from, so forcibly had the vision operated on his mind. Our conversation, which had been at first rather melancholy, led to this; and my confirming his sensations, by confessing that I had felt the same, gave greater activity to his everwandering and lively imagination.

"Sunday, May 12tt.

"Cloudy and threatening weather. Wrote during the morning. Mr. Maglian, (harbour-master at Lcrici), called after dinner, and while walking with him on the terrace, we discovered a strange sail coming round the point of Porto Venere, which proved at length to be Shelley's boat. She bad left Genoa on Thursday, but bad been driven back by prevailing bad winds. A Mr. Heslop and two English seamen brought her round, and they speak most highly of her performances. She does, indeed, excite my surprise and admiration. Shelley and I walked to Lcrici, and made a stretch off the land to try her, and I find she fetches whatever she looks at. In short, we have now a perfect plaything for the summer.

41 Monday, May \3th.

"Rain during night in torrents—a heavy gale of wind from B.W. and a surf running heavier than ever; at 4 gale unabated, violent squalls. Walked to Lerici with Shelley and went on board. Called on M. Maglian, and found him anxiously awaiting the moment of a third child's birth. In the evening an electric arch forming in the clouds announces a heavy thunder-storm, if the wind lulls. Distant thunder—gale increases—a circle of foam surrounds the bay—dark, rainy, and tempestuous, with flashes of lightning at intervals, which give us no hope of better weather. The learned in these things say, that it generally lasts three days when once it commences as this has done. We all feel as if we were on board ship—and the roaring of the sea brings this idea to us even in our beds. "Tuesday, May 14M.

*' Clear weather, and the breeze greatly moderated; contrary to all the expectations and the prophecies of these would-be sailors—these weather-wise landsmen. While dressing this morning I saw the boat, under easy sail, bearing on and off land. At 9 we took her down, under top-sails and flying jib, to Spezxia; and, after tacking round some of the craft there, returned to Lerioi in an hour and a half—a distance, they say, of four leagues.

On our return, we were hailed by a servant of Count S ,

a minister of the Emperor of Austria, who sent desiring to have a sail; but before he could get on board, the wind had lulled into a perfect calm, and wo only got into the swell, and made him sick.

"Wednesday, May \5th.

*• Fine and fresh breeze in puffs from the land. Jane

payment of interest, which I omitted to mention, considering it a matter of course.

I can easily imagine that circumstances may have arisen to make this loan inconvenient or impossible.—In any case, believe me, My dear Smith, Yours very gratefully and faithfully,

P. B. Shellet.

and Mary consent to take a sail. Run down to Ports Venere and beat back at I o'clock. The boat sailed like a witch. After the late gale the water is covered with purple nautili, or as the sailors call them, 'Porturneia men-of-war/ After dinner, Jane accompanied us to the point of the Magra ; and the boat beat back in wonderful style.

"Saturday, May ISA.

"Fine fresh breeze Sailed with Shelley to the outer island, and find that there Is another small one beyond, which we have named the Sirens' rock. This name Wm chosen in consequence of hearing, at the time we were beating to windward to weather it, a sort of murmurin;, which, as If by magic, seemed to proceed from ail parts of our boat, now on the sea, now here, now there. At length we found that a very small rope {or cord rather) bad bees fastened to steady the peak when the boat was at anchor, and being drawn extremely tight with the weight of the sail, it vibrated as the wind freshened. Being on the other tack as we approached, it ceased, and again is we stood off it recommenced its song. The Sirens' island was well named; for standing in close to observe it, from a strong current setting towards it. the boat was actually attracted so close, that we had only time to tack, and save ourselves from its alluring voice.

"Wednesday, May Und

"Fine, after a threatening night. After breakfast Shelley and I amused ourselves with trying to make a boat of canvas and reeds, as light and as small as po-wWe —she is to be eight and a half feet long, and four and a half broad.

"Sunday, JVapKflL

"Cloudy. Rose at six, and went with Shelley and Maglian to Massa. The landing-place, or rather the beach, which is about three miles from the town, affords no kind of shelter, but where there is a continued tea running. A little to the left of the second gun-battery, Is a shelf running parallel to the beach, at the termination of which five feet water may be had. This shelf is indicated by the shortness and frequency of the surf, and the deep water by a partial cessation of it. It Is necessary before any effort is made to work her in—to send a strong stemfast on shore for this purpose, as the current of the Magra sets forcibly to the eastward, and sweeps her suddenly into the surf beyond. We dined at Massa, and left it again at ten minutes past four, with a strong westerly wind straight in our teeth. This wind, (the Ponentr as it is called) always sends a damp vapour from the sea, which gathers into watery clouds on the mountain tops, and generally sinks with the sun, but strengthens as be declines. To the landing-place it is said to be fifteen miles to Lcrici. We left the latter place at a little past eight and arrived at eleven, and returned in seven hours. "Thursday. June&h.

"Calm. Left Villa Magni, at five, on our way to v» Reggie At eight the wind sprung up, baffling in all directions but the right one. At eleven we could steeroar course; but at one it fell calm, and left us like a log on the water, but four miles to windward of Mi pes We remained there till six: the thunder-clouds gathering « the mountains around, and threatening to burst in squalls; heat excessive. At seven rowed into Massa beach—but <c attempting to land we were opposed by the guard, wlw told us that the head person of the fort (Of two rusty gun* being at Festa, that, as he was not able to read, we mutt wait till the formor arrived. Not willing to put up with such treatment, Shelley told him at bis peril to detain us

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