like loneliness, and usually, when alone, sheltered himself against
memory and reflection in a book. But, with one or two whom he loved, he
gave way to wild and joyous spirits, or in more serious conversation
expounded his opinions with vivacity and eloquence. If an argument
arose, no man ever argued better. He was clear, logical, and earnest, in
supporting his own views; attentive, patient, and impartial, while
listening to those on the adverse side. Had not a wall of prejudice been
raised at this time between him and his countrymen, how many would have
sought the acquaintance of one whom to know was to love and to revere!
How many of the more enlightened of his contemporaries have since
regretted that they did not seek him! how very few knew his worth while
he lived! and, of those few, several were withheld by timidity or envy
from declaring their sense of it. But no man was ever more
enthusiastically loved--more looked up to, as one superior to his
fellows in intellectual endowments and moral worth, by the few who knew
him well, and had sufficient nobleness of soul to appreciate his
superiority. His excellence is now acknowledged; but, even while
admitted, not duly appreciated. For who, except those who were
acquainted with him, can imagine his unwearied benevolence, his
generosity, his systematic forbearance? And still less is his vast
superiority in intellectual attainments sufficiently understood--his
sagacity, his clear understanding, his learning, his prodigious memory.
All these as displayed in conversation, were known to few while he
lived, and are now silent in the tomb:

'Ahi orbo mondo ingrato!
Gran cagion hai di dever pianger meco;
Che quel ben ch' era in te, perdut' hai seco.'

NOTE ON POEMS OF 1819, BY MRS. SHELLEY.