The book of gemsThe modern poets and artists of Great Britain . the more peculiarbusiness of poetry to produce. The Editor is indebted for this Memoir of Shelley, and also for that of Keats, to thefriend of both, Leigh Hunt. The dangerous tendency of Shelleys writings,—his mis-takes, theoretical and practical, acknowledged in some instances by himself,—will notfind from others the excuse they have found from those who had personal regard forthe man, as well as admiration of the Poet. Shelley may have been, as it is contendedhe was, sincere in his schemes for re-modelling society; but his doctr
The book of gemsThe modern poets and artists of Great Britain . the more peculiarbusiness of poetry to produce. The Editor is indebted for this Memoir of Shelley, and also for that of Keats, to thefriend of both, Leigh Hunt. The dangerous tendency of Shelleys writings,—his mis-takes, theoretical and practical, acknowledged in some instances by himself,—will notfind from others the excuse they have found from those who had personal regard forthe man, as well as admiration of the Poet. Shelley may have been, as it is contendedhe was, sincere in his schemes for re-modelling society; but his doctrines are not,therefore, (he less pernicious. Unhappily he died before judgment had arrived to theaid of genius : it is impossible to doubt that a mind so naturally generous would haveatoned for many of the errors he liad assisted to propagate, if he had lived to be con-vinced of them. He publicly disavowed (in the Examiner) the republication of Queen Mab; and regretted that he had written it. It was the work of a youthexasperated by scholastic SHELLEY. Sea-girt City ! thou hast beenOceans child, and then his queen ;Now is come a darker thou soon must be his the power that raised thee hereHallow so thy watery less drear ruin then than now,With thy conquest-branded browStooping to the slave of slavesFrom thy throne, among the wavesWilt thou be, when the sea-mewFlies, as once before it thine isles all is in its ancient state. 42 SHELLEY. Save where many a palace-gateWith green sea-flowers overgrownLike a rock of oceans own,Topples oer the abandond seaAs the tides change fisher on his watery at the close of spread his sail and seize his oarTill he pass the gloomy thy dead should, from their sleepBursting oer the starlit a rapid masque of deathOer the waters of his path. THE CLOUD. I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowert? From the seas and the streams ;I be
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