FRAGMENT: THE SERPENT. WAKE the serpent not-lest he From its cradling blue-bell shaken, FRAGMENT: FITFUL RAIN. THE fitful alternations of the rain, FRAGMENT: LOVE'S ATMOSPHERE. THERE is a warm and gentle atmosphere As in a tender mist our spirits are Wrapt in the of that which is to us The health of life's own life. TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.1 THY little footsteps on the sands Thy mingled look of love and glee 1 First given in Mrs. Shelley's first edition of 1839. TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. 1 (With what truth I may say- Non è più come era prima!) I. My lost William, thou in whom Here its ashes find a tomb, Thou art not-if a thing divine Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine Is thy mother's grief and mine. II. Where art thou, my gentle child? The love of living leaves and weeds, Let me think that through low seeds 1 Mrs. Shelley first published this fragment in the Posthumous Poems (1824) with the date " June, 1819," affixed. * Within in Mrs. Shelley's editions of 1824 and 1839; but this mistake was corrected in later editions,- -commencing, certainly, as early as 1847. 3 Concerning the English burial ground wherein this child was buried, Shelley wrote as follows: "This spot is the repository of a sacred loss, of which the yearnings of a parent's heart are now prophetic; he is rendered immortal by love, as his memory is by death. My beloved child is buried here. I envy death the body far less than the oppressors the minds of those whom they have torn from me. The one can kill the body, the other crushes the affections." TWO FRAGMENTS TO MARY.1 I. My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone, Where For thine own sake I cannot follow thee. II. The world is dreary, And I am weary Of wandering on without thee, Mary; A joy was erewhile In thy voice and thy smile, And 'tis gone, when I should be gone too, Mary. ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI, IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY.2 I. Ir lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, 1 These two fragments addressed to herself were first given by Mrs. Shelley in the second edition of 1839, with the date July, 1819" affixed, but without any heading. Mr. Rossetti, who infers (no doubt rightly) that they were written in the season of Mrs. Shelley's deep dejection for the loss 66 of the beloved infant William," suspects that when in the last line of fragment II should be where "i.e. to the tomb." This seems likely, but not, to my mind, a certainty. 2 First given by Mrs. Shelley in the Posthumous Poems, inscribed "Florence, 1819." Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine,1 Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, II. Yet it is less the horror than the grace Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone; Whereon the lineaments of that dead face Are graven, till the characters be grown Into itself, and thought no more can trace; "Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown. Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, Which humanize and harmonize the strain. III. And from its head as from one body grow, Their mailed radiance, as it were to mock. IV. And from a stone beside, a poisonous eft Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise 1 In Mrs. Shelley's editions of 1824 and 1839, shrine; but corrected to shine as early as 1847. In the Posthumous Poems, those: in the editions of 1839 these. After a taper; and the midnight sky 'Tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror; Which makes a thrilling vapour of the air Of all the beauty and the terror there- LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY.1 I. THE fountains mingle with the river, Nothing in the world is single; 1 Mrs. Shelley classes this poem among those of 1820; and in the Posthumous Poems it is dated "January, 1820." Mr. Rossetti follows this arrangement. The poem was, however, published in The Indicator for of the 22nd December, 1819, with the signature "Z.", and with the following introductory note by Leigh Hunt -"We intended to introduce the following delightful little lyric, by a friend, in very different company from that of the gentlemen just presented to the reader; [the article making up the rest of the number was that on Thieves, Ancient and Modern "] but as Mercury, who was the god of thieves, was also the inventor of the lyre, and as Love himself, time out of mind, has been called a thief, it is not, in all respects, inappropriately situated. We may fancy Mercury playing, and Love singing: -and the song is indeed worthy of the performers. It is elemental, Platonical; a meeting of divineness with humanity." It is possible that this poem was the one referred to in Shel. ley's letter to Hunt in which he enquires after The Mask of Anarchy, and refers to another poem as enclosed, to be printed in The Examiner, or to |