than any poem I ever published. Am I to thank you for the revision of the press? 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 be 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.

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 Ollier 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

I have been reading over and over again Faust, and always with sensations which no other composition excites. It deepens the gloom and aug-summer-house with Faust! The artist makes ments 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 sole 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 less (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
We find our happiness, or not at all."

As if, after sixty years' suffering here, we were to
be roasted alive for sixty million more in hell, or
charitably annihilated by a coup de grâce of the
bungler who brought us into existence at first!

Have you read Calderon's Magico Prodigioso I find a striking singularity between Faust and this drama, and if I were to acknowledge Coleridge's distinction, should say Goethe was the 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 have — 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.

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 some subjects, I know not, or that I am more affected by a visible image, but the etching certainly excited me far more than the poem it illustrated. Do you remember the fifty-fourth letter of the first part of the "Nouvelle Héloïse ?" 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 shadows!

What think you of Lord Byron's last volume? In my opinion it contains finer poetry than has 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 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 that the verses Prometheus was never intended for more than five or six persons.

canvas.

are bad.

And how are you getting on? Do your plans still want success? Do you regret Italy? or any thing that Italy contains? And in case of an entire failure in your expectations, do you think of returning here? 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

He is and the echo of the aff the original report has

reside upon it. I tremble for the consequences, a pitchfork.
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 Tell him that some adven-
turers are engaged upon a steam-boat at Leghorn,
to make the trajet we 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 well 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 I 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? 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 Ollier 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,

LETTER LXIII.

To.. Esq.

P. B. S.

Pisa, April 11th, 1822.

MY DEAR-I have, as yet, received neither the *, nor his metaphysical companions-Time, my Lord, has a wallet on his back, and I suppose he has bagged them by the 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

Lord Byron has read Moore to him, in whic kindness of me; and flattered by the appro feriority to whom I an Amongst other thing giving Lord B. much opinion, &c., seems to his mind, on the subjec bute the tone assumed i Moore cautions him ag particular, with the m plain that his motive sp fiting Lord B., withou you know Moore. Pra not the smallest influen particular, and if I had it to eradicate from his of Christianity, which, perpetually to recur, a hours of sickness and ceived many years ago, a last year at Ravenna. be to attribute to mysel participation in that i with Moore in thinking world; no man of sen the alliance of the mor popular worship with Theism of such a ma profit of the former, fountain of its own pol that the doctrines of t Philosophy, are as fals but still they are bett much as anarchy is b this reason, that the for that the latter is eterna character, no less than makes me rather wish t ill opinion of me.

Where are you? W Spezzia; Lord Byron hope to see you, even fo your wife and little one fine boy, and is quite we I have contrived to Newcastle itself.-My d Faithfull

*For Mr. Moore's accou own feelings and opinions o to him by Shelley being pu Life of Byron, Vol. II. p. 584

nience lend me the £400 which you once dedicated to this service, and allow Godwin to have it, under the precautions and stipulations which I formerly annexed to its employment. You could not obviously allow this money to lie idle waiting for this 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 12th.

"Cloudy and threatening weather. Wrote during the morning. Mr. Maglian, (harbour-master at Lerici), 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 had left Genoa on Thursday, but had 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 Lerici, 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.

"Monday, May 13th.

"Rain during night in torrents a heavy gale of wind from S. 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 14th.

"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 Spezzia; and, after tacking round some of the craft there, returned to Lerici 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 calmn, and we only got into the swell, and made him sick.

“Wednesday, May 15th.

"n and fresh breeze in puffs from the land. Jane

payment of interest, wh considering it a matter o I can easily imagine have arisen to make this possible.-In any case, b

My d Yours very gratef

and Mary consent to take
Venere and beat back at 1
a witch. After the late gal
purple nautili, or as the sa
men-of-war. After dinner,
point of the Magra; and the
style.

"Fine fresh breeze. Saile island, and find that there i which we have named the 8 chosen in consequence of h beating to windward to wea which, as if by magic, seeme our boat, now on the sea, now we found that a very small r fastened to steady the peaky and being drawn extremely sail, it vibrated as the win other tack as we approache stood off it recommenced was well named; for standi a strong current setting towa attracted so close, that we ha ourselves from its alluring v

"Fine, after a threateni Shelley and I amused ourse boat of canvas and reeds, as -she is to be eight and a ha half broad.

"Cloudy. Rose at six. Maglian to Massa. The la beach, which is about three no kind of shelter, but whe running. A little to the lef is a shelf running parallel to of which five feet water may by the shortness and frequer water by a partial cessation any effort is made to work h fast on shore for this purpose sets forcibly to the eastwar into the surf beyond. We again at ten minutes past f wind straight in our teeth. it is called) always sends a which gathers into watery el and generally sinks with the declines. To the landing pl miles to Lerici. We left the eight and arrived at eleven, a

"Calm. Left Villa Magni Reggio. At eight the wind directions but the right one. course; but at one it fell ca the water, but four miles to remained there till six; the the mountains around, and the heat excessive. At seven row attempting to land we were told us that the head person of being at Festa, that, as he wi wait till the former arrived. such treatment, Shelley told