In 1815 appeared his _Alastor; or the Spirit of Solitude_. In 1817 he again left England for Geneva. While in Switzerland he made the acquaintance of Byron, which was renewed during his stay in Italy. In the same year he returned to this country and, after a short sojourn with Leigh Hunt, he settled at Great Marlow, one of the most picturesque parts of the Thames. There, in spite of his own ill-health, he showed the active benevolence of his character, not only in the easier form of alms-giving but also in frequent visits to the sick and destitute, at the risk of aggravating symptoms of consumption now alarmingly apparent. There, too, he composed the _Revolt of Islam_, or, as it was originally more fitly entitled, _Laon and Cythna_. In this poem, by the mouth of Laone, he again expresses his humanitarian convictions and sympathies. She calls upon the enfranchised nations:-- “‘My brethren, we are free! The fruits are glowing Beneath the stars, and the night-winds are flowing O’er the ripe corn; the Birds and Beasts are dreaming-- Never again may blood of bird or beast Stain with his venomous stream a human feast, To the pure skies in accusation steaming. Avenging poisons shall have ceased To feed disease, and fear, and madness. The dwellers of the earth and air Shall throng around our steps in gladness, Seeking their food or refuge there. Our toil from Thought all glorious forms shall cul. To make this earth, our home, more beautiful, And Science, and her sister Poesy, Shall clothe in light the fields and cities of the Free. * * * * * “Their feast was such as Earth, the general Mother, Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles In the embrace of Autumn--to each other As when some parent fondly reconciles Her warring children, _she_ their wrath beguiles With her own sustenance; _they_, relenting, weep-- Such was this Festival, which, from their isles, And continents, and winds, and oceans deep, All shapes might throng to share, that fly, or walk, or creep: “Might share in peace and innocence, for _gore_, _Or poison none this festal did pollute_. But, piled on high, an overflowing store Of pomegranates, and citrons--fairest fruit, Melons, and dates, and figs, and many a root Sweet and sustaining, and bright grapes, ere yet Accursed fire their mild juice could transmute Into a mortal bane; and brown corn set In baskets: with pure streams their thirsting lips they wet.”[240]