weakly；　stumblingly；　but　still　strugglingtowards　higher　things。
  His　Pantheism　is　an　indication　of　it。　　Pantheism　is　a　half…way
  house；　and　marks　ascent　or　descent　according　to　the　direction　from
  which　it　is　approached。　　Now　Shelley　came　to　it　from　absolute
  Atheism；　therefore　in　his　case　it　meant　rise。　　Again；　his　poetry
  alone　would　lead　us　to　the　same　conclusion；　for　we　do　not　believe
  that　a　truly　corrupted　spirit　can　write　consistently　ethereal
  poetry。　　We　should　believe　in　nothing；　if　we　believed　that；　for　it
  would　be　the　consecration　of　a　lie。　　Poetry　is　a　thermometer：　　by
  taking　its　average　height　you　can　estimate　the　normal　temperature　of
  its　writer's　mind。　　The　devil　can　do　many　things。　　But　the　devil
  cannot　write　poetry。　　He　may　mar　a　poet；　but　he　cannot　make　a　poet。
  Among　all　the　temptations　wherewith　he　tempted　St。　Anthony；　though
  we　have　often　seen　it　stated　that　he　howled；　we　have　never　seen　it
  stated　that　he　sang。
  Shelley's　anarchic　principles　were　as　a　rule　held　by　him　with　some
  misdirected　view　to　truth。　　He　disbelieved　in　kings。　　And　is　it　not
  a　mere　factregret　it　if　you　willthat　in　all　European　countries；
  except　two；　monarchs　are　a　mere　survival；　the　obsolete　buttons　on
  the　coat…tails　of　rule；　which　serve　no　purpose　but　to　be　continually
  coming　off？　　It　is　a　miserable　thing　to　note　how　every　little　Balkan
  State；　having　obtained　liberty　（save　the　mark！）　by　Act　of　Congress；
  straightway　proceeds　to　secure　the　service　of　a　professional　king。
  These　gentlemen　are　plentiful　in　Europe。　　They　are　the　〃noble
  Chairmen〃　who　lend　their　names　for　a　consideration　to　any
  enterprising　company　which　may　be　speculating　in　Liberty。　　When　we
  see　these　things；　we　revert　to　the　old　lines　in　which　Persius　tells
  how　you　cannot　turn　Dama　into　a　freeman　by　twirling　him　round　your
  finger　and　calling　him　Marcus　Dama。
  Again；　Shelley　desired　a　religion　of　humanity；　and　that　meant；　to
  him；　a　religion　for　humanity；　a　religion　which；　unlike　the　spectral
  Christianity　about　him；　should　permeate　and　regulate　the　whole
  organisation　of　men。　　And　the　feeling　is　one　with　which　a　Catholic
  must　sympathise；　in　an　age　whenif　we　may　say　so　without
  irreverencethe　Almighty　has　been　made　a　constitutional　Deity；　with
  certain　state…grants　of　worship；　but　no　influence　over　political
  affairs。　　In　these　matters　his　aims　were　generous；　if　his　methods
  were　perniciously　mistaken。　　In　his　theory　of　Free　Love　alone；
  borrowed　like　the　rest　from　the　Revolution；　his　aim　was　as
  mischievous　as　his　method。　　At　the　same　time　he　was　at　least
  logical。　　His　theory　was　repulsive；　but　comprehensible。　　Whereas
  from　our　present　via　mediafacilitation　of　divorcecan　only　result
  the　era　when　the　young　lady　in　reduced　circumstances　will　no　longer
  turn　governess　but　will　be　open　to　engagement　as　wife　at　a
  reasonable　stipend。
  We　spoke　of　the　purity　of　Shelley's　poetry。　　We　know　of　but　three
  passages　to　which　exception　can　be　taken。　　One　is　happily　hidden
  under　a　heap　of　Shelleian　rubbish。　　Another　is　offensive；　because　it
  presents　his　theory　of　Free　Love　in　its　most　odious　form。　　The　third
  is　very　much　a　matter；　we　think；　for　the　individual　conscience。
  Compare　with　this　the　genuinely　corrupt　Byron；　through　the　cracks
  and　fissures　of　whose　heaving　versification　steam　up　perpetually　the
  sulphurous　vapours　from　his　central　iniquity。　　We　cannot　credit　that
  any　Christian　ever　had　his　faith　shaken　through　reading　Shelley；
  unless　his　faith　were　shaken　before　he　read　Shelley。　　Is　any　safely
  havened　bark　likely　to　slip　its　cable；　and　make　for　a　flag　planted
  on　the　very　reef　where　the　planter　himself　was　wrecked？
  Why　indeed　（one　is　tempted　to　ask　in　concluding）　should　it　be　that
  the　poets　who　have　written　for　us　the　poetry　richest　in　skiey　grain；
  most　free　from　admixture　with　the　duller　things　of　earththe
  Shelleys；　the　Coleridges；　the　Keatsare　the　very　poets　whose　lives
  are　among　the　saddest　records　in　literature？　　Is　it　that　（by　some
  subtile　mystery　of　analogy）　sorrow；　passion；　and　fantasy　are
  indissolubly　connected；　like　water；　fire；　and　cloud；　that　as　from
  sun　and　dew　are　born　the　vapours；　so　from　fire　and　tears　ascend　the
  〃visions　of　aerial　joy〃；　that　the　harvest　waves　richest　over　the
  battlefields　of　the　soul；　that　the　heart；　like　the　earth；　smells
  sweetest　after　rain；　that　the　spell　on　which　depend　such　necromantic
  castles　is　some　spirit　of　pain　charm…poisoned　at　their　base？　｛10｝
  Such　a　poet；　it　may　be；　mists　with　sighs　the　window　of　his　life
  until　the　tears　run　down　it；　then　some　air　of　searching　poetry；　like
  an　air　of　searching　frost；　turns　it　to　a　crystal　wonder。　　The　god　of
  golden　song　is　the　god；　too；　of　the　golden　sun；　so　peradventure
  song…light　is　like　sunlight；　and　darkens　the　countenance　of　the
  soul。　　Perhaps　the　rays　are　to　the　stars　what　thorns　are　to　the
  flowers；　and　so　the　poet；　after　wandering　over　heaven；　returns　with
  bleeding　feet。　　Less　tragic　in　its　merely　temporal　aspect　than　the
  life　of　Keats　or　Coleridge；　the　life　of　Shelley　in　its　moral　aspect
  is；　perhaps；　more　tragical　than　that　of　either；　his　dying　seems　a
  myth；　a　figure　of　his　living；　the　material　shipwreck　a　figure　of　the
  immaterial。
  Enchanted　child；　born　into　a　world　unchildlike；　spoiled　darling　of
  Nature；　playmate　of　her　elemental　daughters；　〃pard…like　spirit；
  beautiful　and　swift；〃　laired　amidst　the　burning　fastnesses　of　his
  own　fervid　mind；　bold　foot　along　the　verges　of　precipitous　dream；
  light　leaper　from　crag　to　crag　of　inaccessible　fancies；　towering
  Genius；　whose　soul　rose　like　a　ladder　between　heaven　and　earth　with
  the　angels　of　song　ascending　and　descending　it；he　is　shrunken　into
  the　little　vessel　of　death；　and　sealed　with　the　unshatterable　seal
  of　doom；　and　cast　down　deep　below　the　rolling　tides　of　Time。　　Mighty
  meat　for　little　guests；　when　the　heart　of　Shelley　was　laid　in　the
  cemetery　of　Caius　Cestius！　　Beauty；　music；　sweetness；　tearsthe
  mouth　of　the　worm　has　fed　of　them　all。　　Into　that　sacred　bridal…
  gloom　of　death　where　he　holds　his　nuptials　with　eternity　let　not　our
  rash　speculations　follow　him。　　Let　us　hope　rather　that　as；　amidst
  material　nature；　where　our　dull　eyes　see　only　ruin；　the　finer　eye　of
  science　has　discovered　life　in　putridity　and　vigour　in　decay；
  seeing　dissolution　even　and　disintegration；　which　in　the　mouth　of
  man　symbolise　disorder；　to　be　in　the　works　of　God　undeviating　order；
  and　the　manner　of　our　corruption　to　be　no　less　wonderful　than　the
  manner　of　our　health；so；　amidst　the　supernatural　universe；　some
  tender　undreamed　surprise　of　life　in　doom　awaited　that　wild　nature；
  which；　worn　by　warfare　with　itself；　its　Maker；　and　all　the　world；
  now
  Sleeps；　and　never　palates　more　the　dug；
  The　beggar's　nurse；　and　Caesar's。
  Footnotes：
  ｛1｝　　That　is　to　say；　taken　as　the　general　animating　spirit　of　the
  Fine　Arts。
  ｛2｝　　The　Abbe　Bareille　was　not；　of　course；　responsible　for
  Savonarola's　taste；　only　for　thus　endorsing　it。
  ｛3｝　　We　mean；　of　course；　the　hymn；　〃I　rise　from　dreams　of　time。〃
  ｛4｝　　We　are　a　little　surprised　at　the　fact；　because　so　many
  Victorian　poets　are；　or　have　been；　prose…writers　as　well。　　Now；
  according　to　our　theory；　the　practice　of　prose　should　maintain　fresh
  and　comprehensive　a　poet's　diction；　should　save　him　from　falling
  into　the　hands　of　an　exclusive　coterie　of　poetic　words。　　It　should
  react　upon　his　metrical　vocabulary　to　its　beneficial　expansion；　by
  taking　him　outside　his　aristocratic　circle　of　language；　and　keeping
  him　in　touch　with　the　great　commonalty；　the　proletariat　of　speech。
  For　it　is　with　words　as　with　men：　　constant　intermarriage　within　the
  limits　of　a　patrician　clan　begets　effete　refinement；　and　to
  reinvigorate　the　stock；　its　veins　must　be　replenished　from　hardy
  plebeian　blood。
  ｛5｝　　Wordsworth's　adaptation　of　it；　however；　is　true。　　Men　are　not
  〃children　of　a　larger　growth；〃　but　the　child　IS　father　of　the　man；
  since　the　parent　is　only　partially　reproduced　in　his　offspring。
  ｛6｝　　The　Rhythm　of　Life；　by　Alice　Meynell。
  ｛7｝　　〃And　the　stars　of　heaven　fell　unto　the　earth；　even　as　a　fig…
  tree　casteth　her　untimely　figs；　when　she　is　shaken　of　a　mighty　wind〃
  （Rev。　vi；　13）。
  ｛8｝　　Such　analogies　between　master　in　sister…arts　are　often
  interesting。　　In　some　respects；　is　not　Brahms　the　Browning　of　music？
  ｛9｝　　Seek　FIRST；　not　seek　ONLY。
  ｛10｝　　We　hope　that　we　need　not　refer　the　reader；　for　the　methods　of
  magic　architecture；　to　Ariosto　and　that　Atlas　among　enchanters；
  Beckford。
  End