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[In a letter from Mrs. Shelley to Mrs. Leigh Hunt, dated the 27th of November, 1823, and printed in Mr. Garnett's Relics of Shelley, occurs the following passage:-"When he [Leigh Hunt] does send a packet over (let it be directed to his brother), will he also be so good as to send me a copy of my 'Choice,' beginning after the line 'Entrenched sad lines, or blotted with its might.' Perhaps, dear Marianne, you would have the kindness to copy them for me, and send them soon." Mr. Garnett explains in a foot-note that the reference is to "a poem by Mrs. Shelley." Whether any copy was made and sent, I know not; but the original manuscript has remained among the Shelley papers of Leigh Hunt till now; and by the kindness of Mr. S. R. Townshend Mayer, who has placed these invaluable papers at my disposal, I am enabled to give to the world this most interesting and remarkable composition. The manuscript consists of six foolscap leaves, very clearly written: it had evidently been submitted to Leigh Hunt for revision or suggestion; and it bears several markings by him, and words in his handwriting, which have some claim to be considered part and parcel of the text, inasmuch as Mrs. Shelley has evidently been over the manuscript after him,- -one word of his being struck out and another substituted in her writing.—H. B. F.]

THE CHOICE.

My Choice-My Choice, alas! was had and gone
With the red gleam of last autumnal sun ;1
Lost in that deep wherein he bathed his head,
My choice, my life, my hope together fled :-
A wanderer here, no more I seek a home,

The sky a vault, and Italy a tomb.

Yet as some days a pilgrim I remain,

Linked to my orphan child2 by love's strong chain;

And since I have a faith that I must earn,

By suffering and by patience, a return
Of that companionship and love, which first
Upon my young life's cloud like sunlight burst,
And now has left me, dark, as when its beams,
Quenched in the might of dreadful ocean streams,
Leave that one cloud, a gloomy speck on high,
Beside one star in the else darkened sky;—
Since I must live, how would I pass the day,

1 Shelley was drowned, it will be remembered, on the 8th of July, 1822. In the autumn of 1823, Mrs. Shelley arrived in London from Italy, where,

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How meet with fewest tears the morning's ray,
How sleep with calmest dreams, how find delights,
As fire-flies1 gleam through interlunar nights ?2

First let me call on thee! Lost as thou art,
Thy name aye fills my sense, thy love my heart.
Oh, gentle Spirit! thou hast often sung,
How fallen on evil days thy heart was wrung;
Now fierce remorse and unreplying death
Waken a chord within my heart, whose breath,
Thrilling and keen, in accents audible

A tale of unrequited love doth tell.

It was not anger, while thy earthly dress
Encompassed still thy soul's rare loveliness,
All anger was atoned by many a kind

Caress or tear, that spoke the softened mind.—
It speaks of cold neglect, averted eyes,
That blindly crushed thy soul's fond sacrifice :-
My heart was all thine own,-but yet a shell
Closed in it's core, which seemed impenetrable,
Till sharp-toothed1 misery tore the husk in twain,
Which gaping lies, nor may unite again.

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Forgive me! let thy love descend in dew
Of soft repentance and regret most true;-

1 No hyphen in the MS.

There is no note of interrogation in the MS.; but the sense obviously needs one.

There was originally a comma at thee. The note of exclamation was an afterthought. I presume it was meant to separate this sentence from the

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next, and have therefore printed lost with a capital.

4 I cannot regard this passage as indicating anything more than a natural feeling of remorse in the noble heart of a woman who has suddenly lost an idolized husband, and fancies all kinds of deficiencies in her conduct to him.

In a strange guise thou dost descend, or how

Could love soothe fell remorse, as it does now ?-1

By this remorse and love, and by the years

Through which we shared our common hopes and fears,

By all our best companionship, I dare

Call on thy sacred. name without a fear;

And thus I pray to thee, my friend, my Heart!
That in thy new abode, thou'lt bear a part2
In soothing thy poor Mary's lonely pain,

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As link by link she weaves her heavy chain !

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And thou, strange star! ascendant at my birth,
Which rained, they said, kind influence on the earth,
So from great parents sprung, I dared to boast
Fortune my friend, till set, thy beams were lost!
And thou, Inscrutable, by whose decree

Has burst this hideous storm of misery!

Here let me cling, here to these solitudes,
These myrtle-shaded3 streams and chesnut woods;
Tear me not hence-here let me live and die,
In my adopted land-my country—Italy.

A happy Mother first I saw this sun, Beneath this sky my race of joy was run. First my sweet girl, whose face resembled his, Slept on bleak Lido, near Venetian seas.*

1 Here also I have had to supply the note of interrogation.

2 This passage originally stood thus,

If in thy new abode thou bearst a part,
In aught may lighten thy poor Mary's pain.

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The alteration is in Mrs. Shelley's writing.

3 No hyphen in the MS.

4 Clara Shelley, who died in 1818. In the Shelley Memorials we read: "While they were at Este, their little

Yet still my eldest-born, my loveliest, dearest,

Clung to my side, most joyful then when nearest.
An English home had given this angel birth,

Near those royal1 towers, where the grass-clad2 earth
Is shadowed o'er by England's loftiest trees :-
Then our companion o'er the swift-passed2 seas,
He dwelt beside the Alps, or gently slept,

Rocked by the waves, o'er which our vessel swept,
Beside his father, nurst upon my breast,
While Leman's waters shook with fierce unrest.
His fairest limbs had bathed in Serchio's stream;

His eyes had watched Italian lightnings gleam ;
His childish voice had, with its loudest call,
The echoes waked of Este's castle wall;
Had paced Pompeii's Roman Market-place;2
Had gazed with infant wonder on the grace
Of stone-wrought2 deities, and pictured saints,
In Rome's high palaces :-there were no taints
Of ruin on his cheek-all shadowless

Grim death approached-the boy met his caress,
And while his glowing limbs with life's warmth shone,
Around those limbs his icy arms were thrown.

daughter, Clara, showed signs of suffering from the heat of the climate. Her indisposition being increased to an alarming extent by teething, the parents hastened to Venice for the best advice, but discovered at Fusina that, in their agitation, they had forgotten the passport. The soldiers on duty attempted to prevent their crossing the lagune; but Shelley, with

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his usual vehemence, augmented by the urgent nature of the case, broke through, and they reached Venice. Unhappily, it was too late; the little sufferer died just as they arrived."– Shelley Memorials, p. 95.

1 Originally ancient, but altered by Hunt to old, and finally by Mrs. Shelley to royal.

2 No hyphen in the MS.

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