I know that he who ventures to touch the text of Shelley should keep always before his eyes the fate of Uzza, and the curse denounced on him who adds to or takes from the sacred writings so much as a word; if I too have laid a presumptuous hand upon the ark, tampered rashly with the inspired canon of scripture, I can only put forward the plea found in that former case unavailing, that I meant but to prop the shaken vessel, to clear the blotted records, which contain the divine treasure; putting my trust in judges of more than Jewish or godlike tolerance. Were it for me to pass sentence, I would say of the very rashest of possible commentators that his errors, though they were many, should be forgiven, if he loved much. While revising the version of the "Cyclops" I have felt again, and more keenly, the old delight of wonder at its matchless grace of unapproachable beauty, its strength, ease, delicate simplicity and sufficiency; the birthmark and native quality of all Shelley's translations. I have retouched nothing but one or two confused lines; for who can hope, even though there be here and there a slip in the rendering, to supply anything as good in place of a cancelled verse of his? What I have