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Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 305 of 400

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The Argosy — page 305: Pulp Fiction, 1865

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286 On the South Coast. _ enough to make others unhappy as well as himself; to miss his aim ; to leave behind him, as regards himself, a feeling of intense dissatis- faction and regret. But if we cannot judge of the life of an ordinary mortal, far less can we judge of such a man as Shelley. He probably made himself out worse than he really was, as men of a morbid tem- perament often do; and no doubt his own mental sufferings and ex- periences—phases ‘“‘ changeful as a poet’s moods ”—-were quite outside the reach and understanding, perhaps even beyond the knowledge of those by whom he was more intimately surrounded. Much as the monument has been criticised, it is impossible not to look at it with extreme interest. Standing there and gazing, there is conjured up before the mind the vision of a small vessel on the shores Hi i ii a" 2 ——~ = inet =i = = ii : iit NY hele | i R — nT —— => VS i SS a en oe ae ’ pfs in 4 Jem ll Mi ae =) = =7 T : Sz =dtii1} ——— € Val par i Vis a) LA ait == 8 rs ! = rae awit = = 22 = = Pee = 2 Pt ri 1 oem : ee ?, ce I | — POPES aa! — >t = a of an Italian bay. <A glorious morning with calm waters and serene skies—the skies of Italy alone. The poet bids his beloved Mary— his second wife—good-bye, little thinking it is good-bye for ever: steps into his boat, and sails away to meet his friend Hunt. Suddenly, in returning, a storm arises, and Shelley is never more seen in life. The secrets of the unknown world, into which he had so longed to penetrate, were all too soon disclosed to him. What were his thoughts and emotions in that last supreme moment, when, as we are told, one’s whole past frequently rises up in an instant of time? What the reawaking of the next instant, when time and change were ended? Alas, poor Shelley! Unhappy in this world, let us hope for the best in regard to that to which his summons came so early. Leaving the church, you look over into the meadows through which the river runs so calmly—a contrast to the life we have just touched upon. ‘The scene is fair, and quiet with the quiet of (EMNMIE NNO KS (EO)