ABSTRACT
The very illness that oppressed, and the aspect of death which had approached so near Shelley, appears to have kindled to yet keener life the Spirit of Poetry in his heart. The restless thoughts kept awake by pain clothed themselves in verse. Much was composed during this year. The “Revolt of Islam,” written and printed, was a great effort – “Rosalind and Helen” was begun – and the fragments and poems I can trace to the same period, show how full of passion and reflection were his solitary hours.
