[Composed at Bishopsgate Heath, near Windsor Park, 1815 (autumn);]
published, as the title-piece of a slender volume containing other
poems (see "Biographical List", by Baldwin, Cradock and Joy, London,
1816 (March). Reprinted--the first edition being sold out--amongst the
"Posthumous Poems", 1824. Sources of the text are (1) the editio
princeps, 1816; (2) "Posthumous Poems", 1824; (3) "Poetical Works",
1839, editions 1st and 2nd. For (2) and (3) Mrs. Shelley is
responsible.
PREFACE.
The poem entitled "Alastor" may be considered as allegorical of one of
the most interesting situations of the human mind. It represents a
youth of uncorrupted feelings and adventurous genius led forth by an
imagination inflamed and purified through familiarity with all that is
excellent and majestic, to the contemplation of the universe. He
drinks deep of the fountains of knowledge, and is still insatiate. The
magnificence and beauty of the external world sinks profoundly into
the frame of his conceptions, and affords to their modifications at
variety not to be exhausted. so long as it is possible for his desires
to point towards objects thus infinite and unmeasured, he is joyous,
and tranquil, and self-possessed. But the period arrives when these
objects cease to suffice. His mind is at length suddenly awakened and
thirsts for intercourse with an intelligence similar to itself. He
images to himself the Being whom he loves. Conversant with
speculations of the sublimest and most perfect natures, the vision in
which he embodies his own imaginations unites all of wonderful, or
wise, or beautiful, which the poet, the philosopher, or the lover
could depicture. The intellectual faculties, the imagination, the
functions of sense, have their respective requisitions on the sympathy
of corresponding powers in other human beings. The Poet is represented
as uniting these requisitions, and attaching them to a single image.
He seeks in vain for a prototype of his conception. Blasted by his
disappointment, he descends to an untimely grave.
The picture is not barren of instruction to actual men. The Poet's
self-centred seclusion was avenged by the furies of an irresistible
passion pursuing him to speedy ruin. But that Power which strikes the
luminaries of the world with sudden darkness and extinction, by
awakening them to too exquisite a perception of its influences, dooms
to a slow and poisonous decay those manner spirits that dare to abjure
its dominion. Their destiny is more abject and inglorious as their
delinquency is more contemptible and pernicious. They who, deluded by
no generous error, instigated by no sacred thirst of doubtful
knowledge, duped by no illustrious superstition, loving nothing on
this earth, and cherishing no hopes beyond, yet keep aloof from
sympathies with their kind, rejoicing neither in human joy nor
mourning with human grief; these, and such as they, have their
apportioned curse. They languish, because none feel with them their
common nature. They are morally dead. They are neither friends, nor
lovers, nor fathers, nor citizens of the world, nor benefactors of
their country. Among those who attempt to exist without human
sympathy, the pure and tender-hearted perish through the intensity and
passion of their search after its communities, when the vacancy of
their spirit suddenly makes itself felt. All else, selfish, blind, and
torpid, are those unforeseeing multitudes who constitute, together
with their own, the lasting misery and loneliness of the world. Those
who love not their fellow-beings live unfruitful lives, and prepare
for their old age a miserable grave.
'The good die first,
And those whose hearts are dry as summer dust,
Burn to the socket!'
December 14, 1815.
