In revising this new edition, and carefully consulting Shelley’s scattered and confused papers, I found a few fragments which had hitherto escaped me, and was enabled to complete a few poems hitherto left unfinished.  What at one time escapes the searching eye, dimmed by its own earnestness, becomes clear at a future period.  By the aid of a friend, I also present some poems complete and correct which hitherto have been defaced by various mistakes and omissions.  It was suggested that the poem “To the Queen of my Heart” was falsely attributed to Shelley.  I certainly find no trace of it among his papers; and, as those of his intimate friends whom I have consulted never heard of it, I omit it.

Two poems are added of some length, “Swellfoot the Tyrant” and “Peter Bell the Third”.  I have mentioned the circumstances under which they were written in the notes; and need only add that they are conceived in a very different spirit from Shelley’s usual compositions.  They are specimens of the burlesque and fanciful; but, although they adopt a familiar style and homely imagery, there shine through the radiance of the poet’s imagination the earnest views and opinions of the politician and the moralist.

At my request the publisher has restored the omitted passages of “Queen Mab”.  I now present this edition as a complete collection of my husband’s poetical works, and I do not foresee that I can hereafter add to or take away a word or line.

Putney, November 6, 1839.

PREFACE BY MRS. SHELLEY

To the volume of posthumous poems published in 1824.

    In nobil sangue vita umile e queta,
    Ed in alto intelletto un puro core
    Frutto senile in sul giovenil fibre,
    E in aspetto pensoso anima lieta.—­Petrarca.

It had been my wish, on presenting the public with the Posthumous Poems of Mr. Shelley, to have accompanied them by a biographical notice; as it appeared to me that at this moment a narration of the events of my husband’s life would come more gracefully from other hands than mine, I applied to Mr. Leigh Hunt.  The distinguished friendship that Mr. Shelley felt for him, and the enthusiastic affection with which Mr. Leigh Hunt clings to his friend’s memory, seemed to point him out as the person best calculated for such an undertaking.  His absence from this country, which prevented our mutual explanation, has unfortunately rendered my scheme abortive.  I do not doubt but that on some other occasion he will pay this tribute to his lost friend, and sincerely regret that the volume which I edit has not been honoured by its insertion.