“Since I wrote the enclosed, I have waited another post, and now have your answer acknowledging the arrival of the packet—­a troublesome one, I fear, to you in more ways than one, both from weight external and internal.

“The unpublished things in your hands, in Douglas K.’s, and Mr. John Murray’s, are, ’Heaven and Earth, a lyrical kind of Drama upon the Deluge, &c.;’—­’Werner,’ now with you;—­a translation of the First Canto of the Morgante Maggiore;—­ditto of an Episode in Dante;—­some stanzas to the Po, June 1st, 1819;—­Hints from Horace, written in 1811, but a good deal, since, to be omitted;—­several prose things, which may, perhaps, as well remain unpublished;—­’The Vision, &c. of Quevedo Redivivus’ in verse.

“Here you see is ‘more matter for a May morning;’ but how much of this can be published is for consideration.  The Quevedo (one of my best in that line) has appalled the Row already, and must take its chance at Paris, if at all.  The new Mystery is less speculative than ‘Cain,’ and very pious; besides, it is chiefly lyrical.  The Morgante is the best translation that ever was or will be made; and the rest are—­whatever you please to think them.

“I am sorry you think Werner even approaching to any fitness for the stage, which, with my notions upon it, is very far from my present object.  With regard to the publication, I have already explained that I have no exorbitant expectations of either fame or profit in the present instances; but wish them published because they are written, which is the common feeling of all scribblers.

“With respect to ‘Religion,’ can I never convince you that I have no such opinions as the characters in that drama, which seems to have frightened every body?  Yet they are nothing to the expressions in Goethe’s Faust (which are ten times hardier), and not a whit more bold than those of Milton’s Satan.  My ideas of a character may run away with me:  like all imaginative men, I, of course, embody myself with the character while I draw it, but not a moment after the pen is from off the paper.

“I am no enemy to religion, but the contrary.  As a proof, I am educating my natural daughter a strict Catholic in a convent of Romagna; for I think people can never have enough of religion, if they are to have any.  I incline, myself, very much to the Catholic doctrines; but if I am to write a drama, I must make my characters speak as I conceive them likely to argue.

“As to poor Shelley, who is another bugbear to you and the world, he is, to my knowledge, the least selfish and the mildest of men—­a man who has made more sacrifices of his fortune and feelings for others than any I ever heard of.  With his speculative opinions I have nothing in common, nor desire to have.

“The truth is, my dear Moore,