e, to be read of all from Time to
Time, to the world's end, we hope."--ED.]]

* * * * *

A POEM BY SHELLEY, NOT IN HIS WORKS.

The following poem was published in a South Carolina newspaper in the year
1839. The person who communicates it states that it was among the papers of
a deceased friend, in a small packet, endorsed "A letter and two poems
written by Shelley the poet, and lent to me by Mr. Trelawney in 1823. I was
prevented from returning them to him, for which I am sorry, since this is
the only copy of them--they have never been published." Upon this poem was
written, "Given to me by Shelley, who composed it as we were sailing one
evening together."

UNEDA.

Philadelphia.

"_The Calm._

"Hush! hark! the Triton calls
From his hollow shell,
And the sea is as smooth as a well;
For the winds and the waves
In wild order form,
To rush to the halls
And the crystal-roof'd caves
Of the deep, deep ocean,
To hold consultation
About the next storm.

"The moon sits on the sky
Like a swan sleeping
On the stilly lake:
No wild breath to break
Her smooth _massy_ light
And _ruffle_ it into _beams:_

"The downy clouds droop
Like moss upon a tree;
And in the earth's bosom grope
Dim vapours and streams.
The darkness is weeping,
Oh, most silently!
Without audible sigh,
All is noiseless and bright.

"Still 'tis living silence here,
Such as fills not with fear.
Ah, do you not hear
A humming and purring
All about and about?
'Tis from souls let out,
From their day-prisons freed,
And joying in release,
For no slumber they need.

"Shining through this _veil of peace,_
Love now pours her omnipresence,
And various nature
Feels through every feature
The joy intense,
Yet so _passionless,_
Passionless and pure;
The human mind restless
Long could not endure.

"But hush while I tell,
As the _shrill whispers flutter_
Through the pores of the sea,--
Whatever they utter
I'll interpret to thee.
King Neptune now craves
Of his turbulent vassals
Their workings to quell;
And the billows are quiet,
_Though thinking on riot._
On the left and the right
In ranks they are coil'd up,
{72}
Like snakes on the plain;
And each one has roll'd up
A bright flashing streak
Of the white moonlight
On his glassy