The Complete Poetical Works, vol 1 | Page 8

and said during the period of my knowing him.
Every impression is as clear as if stamped yesterday, and I have no
apprehension of any mistake in my statements as far as they go. In
other respects I am indeed incompetent: but I feel the importance of the
task, and regard it as my most sacred duty. I endeavour to fulfil it in a
manner he would himself approve; and hope, in this publication, to lay
the first stone of a monument due to Shelley's genius, his sufferings,
and his virtues:--
Se al seguir son tarda,
Forse avverra che 'l bel nome gentile

Consacrero con questa stanca penna.
POSTSCRIPT IN SECOND EDITION OF 1839.
In revising this new edition, and carefully consulting Shelley's scattered
and confused papers, I found a few fragments which had hitherto
escaped me, and was enabled to complete a few poems hitherto left
unfinished. What at one time escapes the searching eye, dimmed by its

own earnestness, becomes clear at a future period. By the aid of a
friend, I also present some poems complete and correct which hitherto
have been defaced by various mistakes and omissions. It was suggested
that the poem "To the Queen of my Heart" was falsely attributed to
Shelley. I certainly find no trace of it among his papers; and, as those of
his intimate friends whom I have consulted never heard of it, I omit it.
Two poems are added of some length, "Swellfoot the Tyrant" and
"Peter Bell the Third". I have mentioned the circumstances under which
they were written in the notes; and need only add that they are
conceived in a very different spirit from Shelley's usual compositions.
They are specimens of the burlesque and fanciful; but, although they
adopt a familiar style and homely imagery, there shine through the
radiance of the poet's imagination the earnest views and opinions of the
politician and the moralist.
At my request the publisher has restored the omitted passages of
"Queen Mab". I now present this edition as a complete collection of my
husband's poetical works, and I do not foresee that I can hereafter add
to or take away a word or line.
Putney, November 6, 1839.
PREFACE BY MRS. SHELLEY.
TO THE VOLUME OF POSTHUMOUS POEMS PUBLISHED IN
1824.
In nobil sangue vita umile e queta,
Ed in alto intelletto un puro core

Frutto senile in sul giovenil fibre,
E in aspetto pensoso anima
lieta.--PETRARCA.
It had been my wish, on presenting the public with the Posthumous
Poems of Mr. Shelley, to have accompanied them by a biographical
notice; as it appeared to me that at this moment a narration of the
events of my husband's life would come more gracefully from other
hands than mine, I applied to Mr. Leigh Hunt. The distinguished
friendship that Mr. Shelley felt for him, and the enthusiastic affection

with which Mr. Leigh Hunt clings to his friend's memory, seemed to
point him out as the person best calculated for such an undertaking. His
absence from this country, which prevented our mutual explanation,
has unfortunately rendered my scheme abortive. I do not doubt but that
on some other occasion he will pay this tribute to his lost friend, and
sincerely regret that the volume which I edit has not been honoured by
its insertion.
The comparative solitude in which Mr. Shelley lived was the occasion
that he was personally known to few; and his fearless enthusiasm in the
cause which he considered the most sacred upon earth, the
improvement of the moral and physical state of mankind, was the chief
reason why he, like other illustrious reformers, was pursued by hatred
and calumny. No man was ever more devoted than he to the endeavour
of making those around him happy; no man ever possessed friends
more unfeignedly attached to him. The ungrateful world did not feel his
loss, and the gap it made seemed to close as quickly over his memory
as the murderous sea above his living frame. Hereafter men will lament
that his transcendent powers of intellect were extinguished before they
had bestowed on them their choicest treasures. To his friends his loss is
irremediable: the wise, the brave, the gentle, is gone for ever! He is to
them as a bright vision, whose radiant track, left behind in the memory,
is worth all the realities that society can afford. Before the critics
contradict me, let them appeal to any one who had ever known him. To
see him was to love him: and his presence, like Ithuriel's spear, was
alone sufficient to disclose the falsehood of the tale which his enemies
whispered in the ear of the ignorant world.
His life was spent in the contemplation of Nature, in arduous study, or
in acts of kindness and affection. He was an elegant scholar and a
profound