monarchs, private and public, poverty and all the religions that are or were— The wind w f S er nd Mund y’s brought Mrs. Nicholson and Bedlam to Oxford in Posthumous Poems, but chance footfall brought Necessity of Atheism into Reverend Walker’s hands and infamy. Had he not mailed all the bishops all college heads copies of his pamphlet, or pledged support for Finnerty in the Herald, would it have become a party affair? Or behind i w i Hun ’s attack on military flogging? Or was it his refusal to acknowledge his authorship before the assembled authorities on the grounds of Anonymous publication? Not belief nor allegiance nor inquiry expelled him from Oxford but rule breaking— At the age of nineteen barred from family an outcast in exile. Fiction was now fact born with fiend of solitude in cave of Fancy by dreams mists within dream of soul that terrified and mesmerised the pillars of his disbelief in Xt chasing after his chase of commune with Venus. There is nothing quite as Shelleyan as an August coffee shop lurk on Sunday in an enchanted 1811, Nothing spells romantic more than elope in a night train from Green Dragon Inn bound for Edinburgh with Harriet Westgrove. There is a rescue urge chasing Shelley along the rushing river and rocky heights below the wooded valleys of losses. After wedlock his wolf would prowl the price of forbidden match. His pack gathered first from Hogg, Harriet and he was lost in Y rk hi wife’ i er’s scheme
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