scene very similar to Lido, of which he had said, I love all waste And solitary places; where we taste Our little boat was of greater use, unaccompanied by any danger, when we removed to the baths. Some friends lived at the village of Pugnano, four miles off, and we went to and fro to see them, in our boat, by the canal ; which, fed by the Serchio, was though an artificial, a full and picturesque stream, making its way under verdant banks sheltered by trees that dipped their boughs into the murmuring waters. By day, multitudes of ephemera darted to and fro on the surface; at night, the fire-flies 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 the near hills, surrounded by chesnut and pine woods, and overlooking a wide extent of country; or of settling still further 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 chance travellers. No one then thought it possible to reside at Via Reggio, which latterly has become a summer resort. The low lands and bad air of Maremma stretch the whole length of the western shores of the Mediterranean, till broken by the rocks and hills of Spezia. It was a vague idea; but Shelley suggested an excursion to Spezia, to see whether it would be feasible to spend a summer 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 instantly exerted himself to have the plan executed. He did not intend himself joining in the work; partly from pride, not wishing to have the air of acquiring readers for his poetry by associating it with the compositions of more popular writers; and, also, because he might feel shackled in the free expression of his opinions, if any friends were to be compromised; by those opinions, carried even to their utmost extent, he wished to live and die, as being in his conviction not only true, but such as alone would conduce to the moral improvement and happiness of mankind. The sale of the work might, meanwhile, either really or supposedly, be injured by the free expression of his thoughts, and this evil he resolved to avoid. By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest, Neither to be contained, delayed, or hidden, Making divine the loftiest and the lowest, When for a moment thou art not forbidden To live within the life which thou bestowest, And leaving noblest things, vacant and chidden, Cold as a corpse after the spirit's flight, Blank as the sun after the birth of night. In winds, and trees, and streams, and all things common, In music, and the sweet unconscious tone Of animals, and voices which are human, Meant to express some feelings of their own; In the soft motions and rare smile of woman, In flowers and leaves, and in the fresh grass shown, Or dying in the autumn, I the most * Pumpkin. And thus I went lamenting, when I saw The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth Had crushed it on her unmaternal breast * * I bore it to my chamber, and I planted The mitigated influences of air And light revived the plant, and from it grew Strong leaves and tendrils, and its flowers fair, Full as a cup with the vine's burning dew, O'erflowed with golden colours; an atmosphere Of vital warmth, infolded it anew, And every impulse sent to every part The unbeheld pulsations of its heart. Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong, Even if the sun and air had smiled not on it; For one wept o'er it all the winter long Tears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon it Hour after hour; for sounds of softest song Mixed with the stringed melodies that won it To leave the gentle lips on which it slept, Had loosed the heart of him who sat and wept. Had loosed his heart, and shook the leaves and flowers On which he wept, the while the savage storm Waked by the darkest of December's hours Was raving round the chamber hushed and warin; The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers, The fish were frozen in the pools, the form Of every summer plant was dead [ Whilst this January, 1822. * * TO A LADY WITH A GUITAR. ARIEL to Miranda :-Take Since Ferdinand and you begun Your course of love, and Ariel still Has tracked your steps and served your will. Now in humbler, happier lot, This is all remembered not; And now, alas! the poor sprite is The artist who this idol wrought, From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star, And taught it justly to reply, Sweet oracles of woods and dells, He came like a dream in the dawn of life, Make answer the while my heart shall break! But my heart has a music which Echo's lips, Though tender and true, yet can answer not, And the shadow that moves in the soul's eclipse Can return not the kiss by his now forgot; Sweet lips! he who hath On my desolate path Cast the darkness of absence, worse than death! The Enchantress makes her spell: she is answered by a Spirit. SPIRIT. Within the silent centre of the earth My mansion is; where I have lived insphered Of this dim spot, which mortals call the world; Sheets of immeasurable fire, and veins Of gold, and stone, and adamantine iron. I have wrought mountains, seas, waves, and clouds, A good Spirit, who watches over the Pirate's fate, leads, in a mysterious manner, the lady of his love to the En chanted Isle. She is accompanied by a youth, who loves her, but whose passion she returns only with a sisterly affection. The ensuing scene takes place between them on their arrival at the Isle. INDIAN. And thou lovest not? If so Young as thou art, thou canst afford to weep. LADY. Oh! would that I could claim exemption Showered on us, and the dove mourned in the pine, INDIAN. Your breath is like soft music, your words are The echoes of a voice which on my heart Sleeps like a melody of early days. But as you said— LADY. He was so awful, yet So beautiful in mystery and terror, MISCELLANEOUS. ΤΟ THE INVITATION. BEST and brightest, come away, The brightest hour of unborn spring, And bade the frozen streams be free; Away, away, from men and towns, |