serious thing; and as we believe that Keats was made presumptuous chiefly by the treacherous puffing of his cockney fellow gossips, and profligate in his poems merely to make them saleable, we regret that he did not live long enough to acquire common sense, and abjure the pestilent and perfidious gang who betrayed his weakness to the grave, and are now panegyrising his memory into contempt. For what is the praise of cockneys but disgrace, or what honourable inscription can be placed over the dead by the hands of notorious libellers, exiled adulterers, and avowed atheists. Adonais, an Elegy, is the form in which Mr. Shelley puts forth his woes. We give a verse at random, premising that there is no story in the elegy, and that it consists of fifty-five stanzas, which are, to our seeming, altogether unconnected, interjectional, and nonsensical. We give one that we think among the more comprehensible. An address to Urania:-- "Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Not all to that bright station dared to climb; And _happier they their happiness who knew_, Whose _tapers yet burn thro' that night of time In which suns perish'd_; Others more sublime, Struck by the _envious_ wroth of man or GOD!! _Have sunk extinct in their refulgent prime_; And some yet live," &c.---- Now what is the meaning of this, or of any sentence of it, except indeed that horrid blasphemy which attributes crime to the Great Author of all virtue! The rest is mere empty absurdity. If it were worth our while to dilate on the folly of the production, we might find examples of every species of the ridiculous within those few pages. Mr. Shelley summons all kinds of visions round the grave of this young man, who, if he has now any feeling of the earth, must shrink with shame and disgust from the touch of the hand that could have written that impious sentence. These he classifies under names, the greater number as new we believe to poetry as strange to common sense. Those are-- ----"Desires and _Adorations_ Winged _Persuasions_ and veiled Destinies, _Splendours_, and _Glooms_, and glimmering _Incarnations_ Of hopes and fears and twilight Phantasies, And Sorrow with her family of _Sighs_, And Pleasure, _blind with tears_! led by the _gleam_ Of her own _dying_ SMILE instead of eyes!!" Let our readers try to imagine these weepers, and close with "_blind_ Pleasure led," by what? "by the _light_ of _her own dying smile_--instead of _eyes_!!!" We give some specimens of Mr. S.'s