could show you about Shelley is at Euston Square—I have for instance a piece of his blackened skull, given me by Trelawney, who picked it out of the furnace, and the regard in which I hold this relic makes me understand the feelings of a Roman Catholic in parallel cases. Possibly you would be at the opposite pole of feeling in this matter. Also I am doing with much diligence another Shelley job I have long contemplated—collection (with elucidatory notes, &c.) of every scrap of his poetry or prose personal to himself—principally letters, so far as prose is concerned.
I like the Witch of Atlas better than Epipsychidion, and in a limited sense I think it the more satisfactory poem of the two. I am far however from considering it the greater poem, or the one which sustains Shelley's general position as a poet at the loftier level. As regards considerations of this class, I think Epipsychidion hardly yields to Prometheus.
I have sometimes felt inclined—if you would at all like it—to forward to Notes and Queries the most important of your Shelley emendations: of course confessing whose they are: not that I could pledge myself to obtaining insertion by the Editor, but I think it probable my object would partly be to express my high opinion of your capacities as a poet—which really ought not to be bottled up for the sole benefit of readers of the National Reformer. I would do this at leisure, if at all—being greatly occupied. Perhaps you would let me know whether you like the notion at all, and how far.
