If I look on Spring's soft heaven,— FRAGMENT: A WANDERER FRAGMENT: LIFE ROUNDED WITH SLEEP FRAGMENT: 'I FAINT, I PERISH WITH MY [Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.] And like a wave under the calm I fail. 5 5 FRAGMENT: THE LADY OF THE SOUTH [Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.] Under a heaven of cedar boughs: the drouth FRAGMENT: ZEPHYRUS THE AWAKENER [Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.] COME, thou awakener of the spirit's ocean, Zephyr, whom to thy cloud or cave No thought can trace! speed with thy gentle motion ! FRAGMENT: RAIN [Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.] THE gentleness of rain was in the wind. 5 FRAGMENT: WHEN SOFT WINDS AND SUNNY [Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 1st ed.] WHEN Soft winds and sunny skies Up the windless heaven is gone, Clouds and whirlwinds watch their prey. FRAGMENT: 'AND THAT I WALK THUS [Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 1st ed.] I shall not weep out of the vital day, FRAGMENT: THE RUDE WIND IS SINGING' [Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 1st ed.] THE rude wind is singing The dirge of the music dead; FRAGMENT: 'GREAT SPIRIT' [Published by Rossetti, Complete P. W. of P. B. S., 1870.] FRAGMENT: 'O THOU IMMORTAL DEITY' [Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 2nd ed.] O THOU immortal deity Whose throne is in the depth of human thought, By all that man may be, by all that he is not, 5 5 FRAGMENT: THE FALSE LAUREL AND THE TRUE Even whilst like a forgotten moon thou wanest? In sacred dedication ever grew: One of the crowd thou art without a name.' As that which bound Milton's immortal hair; FRAGMENT: MAY THE LIMNER 5 ΤΟ [This and the three following Fragments were edited from MS. Shelley D 1 at the Bodleian Library and published by Mr. C. D. Locock, Examination, &c., Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1903. They are printed here as belonging probably to the year 1821.] WHEN May is painting with her colours gay FRAGMENT: BEAUTY'S HALO [Published by Mr. C. D. Locock, Examination, &c., 1903.] Thy voice, as silver bells that strike ... FRAGMENT: 'THE DEATH KNELL IS RINGING' [Published by Mr. C. D. Locock, Examination, &c., 1903.] THE death knell is ringing The raven is singing The earth worm is creeping 1 FRAGMENT: I STOOD UPON A HEAVEN-CLEAVING I STOOD upon a heaven-cleaving turret Which overlooked a wide Metropolis And in the temple of my heart my Spirit 1 This reads like a study for Autumn, A Dirge' (Locock). Might it not be part of a projected Fit v. of The Fugitives ?-ED. Lay prostrate, and with parted lips did kiss It shook that trembling fane with its weak prayer The city NOTE ON POEMS OF 1821, BY MRS. SHELLEY My task becomes inexpressibly painful as the year draws near that which sealed our earthly fate, and each poem, and each event it records, has a real or mysterious connexion with the fatal catastrophe. I feel that I am incapable of putting on paper the history of those times. The heart of the man, abhorred of the poet, who could 'peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave,' does not appear to me more inexplicably framed than that of one who can dissect and probe past woes, and repeat to the public ear the groans drawn from them in the throes of their agony. 5 those we love have passed into eternity, There is much in the Adonais which seems now more applicable to Shelley himself than to the young and gifted poet whom he mourned. The poetic view he takes of death, and the lofty scorn he displays towards his calumniators, are as a prophecy on his own destiny when received among immortal names, and the poisonous breath of critics has vanished into emptiness before the fame he inherits. He Shelley's favourite taste was boating; when living near the Thames or by the Lake of Geneva, much of his life was The year 1821 was spent in Pisa, or spent on the water. On the shore of at the Baths of San Giuliano. We were every lake or stream or sea near which not, as our wont had been, alone; friends he dwelt, he had a boat moored. had gathered round us. Nearly all are had latterly enjoyed this pleasure again, dead, and, when Memory recurs to the There are no pleasure-boats on the past, she wanders among tombs. The Arno; and the shallowness of its waters genius, with all his blighting errors and (except in winter-time, when the stream mighty powers; the companion of Shel- is too turbid and impetuous for boating) ley's ocean-wanderings, and the sharer rendered it difficult to get any skiff light of his fate, than whom no man ever enough to float. Shelley, however, existed more gentle, generous, and fear-overcame the difficulty; he, together less; and others, who found in Shelley's with a friend, contrived a boat such society, and in his great knowledge and as the huntsmen carry about with them warm sympathy, delight, instruction, in the Maremma, to cross the sluggish and solace; have joined him beyond the grave. A few survive who have felt life a desert since he left it. What misfortune can equal death? Change can convert every other into a blessing, or heal its sting-death alone has no cure. It shakes the foundations of the earth on which we tread; it destroys its beauty; it casts down our shelter; it exposes us bare to desolation. When but deep streams that intersect the forests, -a boat of laths and pitched canvas. It held three persons; and he was often seen on the Arno in it, to the horror of the Italians, who remon strated on the danger, and could not understand how any one could take pleasure in an exercise that risked life. Ma va per la vita!' they exclaimed. I little thought how true their words would prove. He once ventured, with shore More barren than its billows.' the near hills, surrounded by chestnut and pine woods, and overlooking a wide extent of country: or settling still farther in the maritime Apennines, at Massa. Several of his slighter and unfinished poems were inspired by these scenes, and by the companions around us. It is the nature of that poetry, however, which overflows from the soul oftener to express sorrow and regret than joy; for it is when oppressed by the weight of life, and away from those he loves, that the poet has recourse to the solace of expression in verse. Still, Shelley's passion was the ocean; and he wished that our summers, instead of being passed among the hills near Pisa, should be spent on the shores of the sea. It was very difficult to find a spot. We shrank from Naples from a fear that the heats would disagree with Percy Leghorn had lost its only attraction, since our friends who had resided there were returned to England; and, Monte Nero being the resort of many English, we did not wish to find ourselves in the midst of a colony of Our little boat was of greater use, chance travellers. No one then thought unaccompanied by any danger, when we it possible to reside at Via Reggio, which removed to the Baths. Some friends latterly has become a summer resort. lived at the village of Pugnano, four The low lands and bad air of Maremma miles off, and we went to and fro to stretch the whole length of the western see them, in our boat, by the canal; shores of the Mediterranean, till broken which, fed by the Serchio, was, though by the rocks and hills of Spezia. It an artificial, a full and picturesque was a vague idea, but Shelley suggested stream, making its way under verdant an excursion to Spezia, to see whether banks, sheltered by trees that dipped it would be feasible to spend a summer their boughs into the murmuring waters. By day, multitudes of ephemera darted to and fro on the surface; at night, the fireflies came out among the shrubs on the banks; the cicale at noon-day kept up their hum; the aziola cooed in the quiet evening. It was a pleasant summer, bright in all but Shelley's health and inconstant spirits; yet he enjoyed himself greatly, and became more and more attached to the part of the country where chance appeared to cast us. Sometimes he projected taking a farm situated on the height of one of there. The beauty of the bay enchanted him. We saw no house to suit us; but the notion took root, and many circumstances, enchained as by fatality, occurred to urge him to execute it. He looked forward this autumn with great pleasure to the prospect of a visit from Leigh Hunt. When Shelley visited Lord Byron at Ravenna, the latter had suggested his coming out, together with the plan of a periodical work in which they should all join. Shelley saw a prospect of good for the fortunes of his friend, and pleasure in his society; and |