POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822. THE ZUCCA.1 I. SUMMER was dead and Autumn was expiring, Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand II. Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep 1 This poem, of which the draft in Shelley's writing is in the note-book, at Boscombe, containing Charles the First, was first given by Mrs. Shelley in the Posthumous Poems, with the date January, 1822, and a note see explaining that Zucca means Pumpkin. Mr. Rossetti made some verbal changes after collating the printed text with the MS. So in the MS.; but poor in Mrs. Shelley's editions. III. I loved-O no, I mean not one of ye, Thou, whom seen nowhere, I feel everywhere. star.1 IV. By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest, When for a moment thou art not forbidden V. 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 grass fresh-shewn,* Or dying in the autumn, I the most Adore thee present or lament thee lost. 1 This broken couplet is supplied by Mr. Rossetti from the MS.; and the chasm is filled with the suggestion "[storm-benighted?]" which I should be very slow to accept. In the Posthumous Poems we read in this place the still more broken lines, Dim object of my soul's idolatry. and these last four words are omitted from the editions of 1839. So in Mr. Rossetti's edition, but or in Mrs. Shelley's. 3 So in all editions; but Mr. Rossetti notes that the word in the MS. might be either sun or sea. 4 In Mrs. Shelley's editions, fresh grass shown: the correction was made by Mr. Garnett (Relics of Shelley, p. 95) from the MS. VI. And thus I went lamenting, when I saw VII. The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth I bore it to my chamber, and I planted It in a vase full of the lightest mould; Fell through the window panes, disrobed of cold, IX. 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. 1 So in the MS., but as in Mrs. Shelley's editions. X. Well might the plant grow beautiful and strong, Tears pure as Heaven's rain, which fell upon it Mixed with the stringèd melodies that won it XI. 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 warm; The birds were shivering in their leafless bowers, The fish were frozen in the pools, the form Of every summer plant was dead . . . 1 So in the MS., but sun and air in Mrs. Shelley's editions. THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT.1 I. SLEEP, sleep on!2 forget thy pain; My hand is on thy brow, My spirit on thy brain; My pity on thy heart, poor friend; The powers of life, and like a sign, And brood on thee, but may not blend 1 This poem was first published in The Shelley Papers; and Mrs. Shelley, in including it among her husband's collected works, assigned it to the year 1822. A copy of it in the autograph of Shelley, headed "For Jane and Williams only to see," is in the hands of Mr. Trelawny. Mr. Rossetti collated the printed text with that MS. In the ensuing notes the very few variations between Mr. Rossetti's text and that of Mrs. Shelley's second edition of 1839 are specified. Medwin, in the memoir prefixed to The Shelley Papers (pp. 63 et seq.), gives the following account of the circumstances dealt with in the poem : "Shelley was a martyr to a most painful complaint, which constantly menaced to terminate fatally, and was subject to violent paroxysms, which, to his irritable nerves, were each a separate death. I had seen mag netism practised in India and at Paris, and at his earnest request consented to try its efficacy. Mesmer himself could not have hoped for more complete success. The imposition of my hand on his forehead instantaneously put a stop to the spasm, and threw him into a magnetic sleep, which, for want of a better word, is called somnambulism. Mrs. Shelley and another lady were present. The experiment VOL. IV. K was repeated more than once. During his trances I put some questions to him. He always pitched his voice in the same tone as mine. I inquired about his complaint, and its cure the usual magnetic inquiries. His reply was- What would cure me, would kill me,' (alluding probably to lithotomy). I am sorry I did not note down some of his other answers... Shelley afterwards used to walk in his sleep; and Mrs. Shelley once found him getting up at night, and going to a window. It is remarkable, that in the case of the boy Matthew Schwir, recorded by Dr. Tritchler, the patient spoke in French, as Shelley in Italian. He improvised also verses in Italian, in which language he was never known to write poetry.... Shelley was afterwards magnetized by a lady, to whom he addressed some lines, of which I remember some of the stanzas." The statement that Shelley never wrote poetry in Italian may be profitably compared with the account of Buona Notte, in Medwin's Life, Vol. II, pp. 178-9. 2 In The Shelley Papers and in the first edition of 1839 we read Sleep on! Sleep on here and in the first line of stanza II; but in the second edition of 1839 Sleep, sleep on !—as in the MS. |