And where the future mars or makes, Its glance dilate o'er all to be, While sun is quench'd or system breaks, Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear, O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly; Forgetting what it was to die. Id. REMORSE. Он, Mariamne! now for thee The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in agony, And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou? Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: And is she dead?—and did they dare The sword that smote her's o'er me waving- But thou art cold, my murder'd love! For her who soars alone above, And leaves my soul unworthy saving. She's gone, who shared my diadem ; She sank, with her my joys entombing; This bosom's desolation dooming; Herod's lament for Mariamne. SHELLEY. 1792-1822. PRINCIPAL WORKS:-Queen Mab, 1810, written at the age of eighteen, and printed for private distribution amongst his friends by the author, who never allowed it to be published, partly, it seems, from that modesty which is one of the most amiable characteristics of true genius, and partly from fear of the virulence of prejudice and interest. When it was written,' says Mrs. Shelley,' he had come to the decision that he was too young to be a "judge of controversies ;" and he was desirous of acquiring "that sobriety of spirit which is the characteristic of true heroism." But he never doubted the truth or utility of his opinions; and in printing and privately distributing Queen Mab he believed that he should further their dissemination, without occasioning the mischief either to others or himself that might arise from publication.' The plan of the poem is wonderfully original and imaginative, and it gave full scope for the expression of his philosophical convictions and sublime aspirations. It is characterised by the exceeding melody of the verse, intense feeling, and sublimity of thought. The persecution to which he was subjected, notwithstanding the limited circulation of Queen Mab, justified his prudence, though it was of little avail, in withholding it from a wider circle during his lifetime.—Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude, 1815, his next considerable poem, 'represents,' as he tells us, a youth of uncorrupted feelings and adventurous genius, led forth by an imagination inflamed and purified through familiarity with all that is excellent and majestic, to the contemplation of the universe.' It was composed at a time when he supposed himself to be near his dissolution, and it breathes, accordingly, the solemn spirit of one about to take an everlasting farewell of the beauty and majesty of Nature.—The Revolt of Islam, 1817, in a similar allegorical strain, the loftiness of tone of which, no less than its somewhat obscure style, was little likely to secure the suffrages of ordinary readers and thinkers. The poem which I now present to the world,' wrote Shelley, 'is an attempt from which I scarcely dare to expect success, and in which a writer of established fame might fail without disgrace. It is an experiment on the temper of the public mind, as to how far a thirst for a happier condition of moral and political society survives, among the enlightened and refined, the tempests which have shaken the age in which we live. I have sought to enlist the harmony of metrical language, the ethereal combinations of the fancy, the rapid and subtle transitions of human passion-all those elements which essentially compose a poem, in the cause of a liberal and comprehensive morality; and in the view of kindling within the bosoms of my readers a virtuous enthusiasm for those doctrines of liberty and justice—that faith and hope in something good, which neither violence, nor misrepresentation, nor prejudice, can ever totally extinguish among mankind.’ 6 6 The opening stanzas addressed to his wife and faithful friend, the future appreciative editor of his works, revealing the secret sorrows of his heart, his early sufferings as a school-boy from the tyranny of both masters and associates, whose vulgar souls, or rather animal constitutions, were utterly incapable of appreciating the sensitiveness and susceptibility of a mind too great and noble for so delicate a corporeal frame, and his after experience in the world, whose thoughts were not as his thoughts, are of surpassing sweetness and of exquisite pathos.-The Prometheus Unbound, 1818, as mystical and metaphysical,' as it has been described, and as daringly sceptical as any of his former works.' This poem, perhaps his master-piece, is founded upon the well-known Hellenic myth of the sufferings inflicted by Zeus on the would-be benefactor of the human race, to which by origin he only half belonged. Like all his writings, it abounds in beautiful as well as earnest thoughts, and in exquisite imagery: and the songs of the sympathetic spirits attendant upon the sufferer are especially charming. It was chiefly written,' says Shelley, upon the mountainous ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, among the flowery glades, and thickets of odoriferous blossoming trees, which are extended in everwinding labyrinths upon its immense platform and dizzy arches suspended in the air. The light blue sky of Rome, and the effect of the vigorous awakening of spring in that divinest climate, and the new life with which it drenches the spirits even to intoxication, were the inspiration of this drama.' The moral inspiration was the most sublime it is possible to conceive. 'Shelley believed that mankind had only to will that there should be no evil, and there would be none. man could be so perfectionised as to be able to expel evil from his own nature, and from the greater part of the creation, was the cardinal point of his system. And the subject he loved best to dwell on was the image of One warring with the Evil Principle, oppressed not only by it, but by all, even the good, who were deluded into considering evil a necessary portion of humanity.' That In the Prometheus Unbound, of all his poems, his love of idealising and spiritualising, which he may have derived in part, though with a far higher sense, from the antique masters of Tragedy, is most apparent. 'More popular poets clothe the ideal with familiar and sensible imagery. Shelley loved to idealise the real-to gift the mechanism of the material universe with a soul and a voice, and to * bestow such also on the most delicate and abstract emotions and thoughts of the mind.'-The Cenci, 1819, also composed at Rome, his single effort in tragic poetry; which evinces that in that province, had his predilections lain there, he would in all probability have achieved a reputation second to none. It is founded upon the essentially tragic history of the celebrated Beatrice Cenci. The innocence and almost unparalleled woes (worthy of the Hellenic drama), the exceeding beauty of the heroine, which is immortalised by Guido, the monstrous character of the old Cenci, with the fate of the rest of the family-all contribute to render this fearful history well fitted for the subject of a tragic poem, though, perhaps, not for representation on the stage. Since Otway's Venice Preserved, or rather since the Shakespearian drama, there is no tragedy in the English language equal to it as an effort of intellectual strength, and an embodiment of human passion.' 'The drama which I now present to you,' writes Shelley in dedicating it to his friend Leigh Hunt,' is a sad reality. I lay aside the presumptuous attitude of an instructor, and am content to paint, with such colours as my own heart furnishes, that which has been.' Universal approbation soon stamped The Cenci as the best tragedy of modern times. Writing concerning it, Shelley said: 'I have been cautious to avoid the introducing faults of youthful composition, diffuseness, a profusion of inapplicable imagery, vagueness, generality, and, as Hamlet says, words, words.' 'There is nothing that is not purely dramatic throughout; and the character of Beatrice, proceeding from vehement struggle to horror, to deadly resolution, and, lastly, to the elevated dignity of calm suffering joined to passionate tenderness and pathos, is touched with hues so vivid and so beautiful, that the poet seems to have read intimately the secrets of the noble heart imaged in the lovely countenance of the unfortunate girl. The fifth act is a masterpiece. It is the finest thing he ever wrote, and may claim proud comparison, not only with any contemporary, but with any preceding poet. The varying feelings of Beatrice are expressed with passionate, heart-reaching eloquence. Every character has a voice that echoes truth in its tones. It is curious, to one acquainted with the written story, to mark the success with which the poet has inwoven the real incidents of the tragedy into his scenes, and yet, through the power of poetry, has obliterated all that would otherwise have shown too harsh, or too hideous in the picture. His success was a double triumph; and often after he was earnestly entreated to write again in a style that commanded popular favour, while it was not less instinct with truth and genius. But the bent of his mind went the other way, and even when employed on subjects whose interest depended on character and incident, he would start off in another direction and leave the delineations of human passion, which he could depict in * Αρρητ' ἀνωνόμαστα, θαυμάτων πέρα. Eurip. Hecuba. |