her desires, however otherwise Shelley's admiration of her character might have prompted him to share them. Such an explanation, couched in whatever terms, must have struck cruelly upon the ears of this singular personage, who had strung herself to make so romantic a declaration. She said she had listened to his explanation with patience, if not with resignation; her dearest and long-cherished hopes were thereby annihilated: and it might be expected that the deep, shrinking sense of offended pride would come to her aid in this moment of trial and fearful agony, perhaps the bitterest that it is possible for a woman to sustain-but in the course she took she shewed herself superior to the majority of her sex, and declared she would rise above such littleness. Had I been base, very base," she said, I should no longer esteem you—but I believe myself worthy of you, and will not prove otherwise, by leaving on your memory a feeling towards me of contempt. You are rich," she added, "in resources; lend me some aid, to endure the trial you have brought upon me the greatest it is allotted to one of us to endure -blighted hopes, a life of loneliness, withered affections." Cold, indeed, would have been my heart," said Shelley to her, "if I should ever cease to acknowledge with gratitude the flattering, the undeserved preference you have so nobly confessed to me; the first, the richest gift a woman can bestow-the only one worth having. Adieu! may God protect, support, and bless you! Your image will never cease to be associated in my mind with all that is noble, pure, generous and lovely. Adieu."* : Thus they parted, and two years and a half had elapsed before they again met, during which time Shelley's first wife had died his children had been torn from him; he had contracted a second marriage, he had been denounced by the world as a monster of crime and wickedness, and had been driven from his country by the malice of his enemies; had become, as it were, a wanderer on the face of the earth, and now at Naples, hoped at last to find rest, when sud* Medwin's Life of Shelley. VOL. II. H denly he again found himself in the presence of her whom he hoped had forgotten him. He then learnt for the first time of her untiring constancy, of the indelible impression which had been in nowise effaced from her heart, but rather strengthened by the interview she had sought. He heard from her own lips how in all his wanderings she had followed closely on his steps. She had followed him to Geneva, and traced him to the Sècheron, and used to watch him with her glass in his excursions on the lake; she had followed him back to England, and never lost sight of him; returned with him to the Continent; removed with him at each remove; had once lodged at the same hotel with him during his journey to Rome and Naples, and finally arrived at this city the same day as himself. How long she survived this second meeting does not appear; but sorrow and suffering had done their work, and some time during the winter of this year she died at Naples. Perfectly free from all blame as Shelley must be acknowledged, he could but feel deeply af fected at the calamitous results of this singular event; however, he kept the whole affair a profound secret from his wife; and but for the mention of it to Byron and Medwin, a considerable time after it had occurred, his secret might have died with him. CHAPTER XII. Shelley's residence at Naples-Dejected state of his mind -Poetry of this period-His correspondence-His return to Rome-The Baths of Caracalla-Shelley's description of Rome-He continues "Prometheus Unbound"-Commences "The Cenci"-The poet's mode of life at Rome. SOON after his arrival at Naples, Shelley fixed his abode for the winter in a delightful spot, separated only from the magnificent bay by the royal gardens. It commanded an extensive view over the blue waters and romantic coast scenery towards the mountainous island of Capri, which stands out at the opposite horn of the bay; and from his garden he could see Vesuvius, vomiting forth thick volumes of smoke by |