It reads: "Dante in his Purgatorio describes a grifon as remaining unchanged but his reflection in the eyes of Beatrice as perpetually varying (Purg.
Cant.

31) So nature is ever the same but seen differently by almost every spectator and even by the same at various times.

All minds, as mirrors, receive her forms--yet in each mirror the shapes apparently reflected vary & are perpetually changing--" [85] See note 20.

Mary Shelley had suffered this torture when Clara and William died.
[86] See the end of Chapter V.
[87] This sentence is not in _F of F--B_ or in _S-R fr_.
THE FIELDS OF FANCY[88] It was in Rome--the Queen of the World that I suffered a misfortune that reduced me to misery & despair[89]--The bright sun & deep azure sky were oppressive but nought was so hateful as the voice of Man--I loved to walk by the shores of the Tiber which were solitary & if the sirocco blew to see the swift clouds pass over St.Peters and the many domes of Rome or if the sun shone I turned my eyes from the sky whose light was too dazzling & gay to be reflected in my tearful eyes I turned them to the river whose swift course was as the speedy departure of happiness and whose turbid colour was gloomy as grief-- Whether I slept I know not or whether it was in one of those many hours which I spent seated on the ground my mind a chaos of despair & my eyes for ever wet by tears but I was here visited by a lovely spirit whom I have ever worshiped & who tried to repay my adoration by diverting my mind from the hideous memories that racked it.

At first indeed this wanton spirit played a false part & appearing with sable wings & gloomy countenance seemed to take a pleasure in exagerating all my miseries--and as small hopes arose to snatch them from me & give me in their place gigantic fears which under her fairy hand appeared close, impending & unavoidable--sometimes she would cruelly leave me while I was thus on the verge of madness and without consoling me leave me nought but heavy leaden sleep--but at other times she would wilily link less unpleasing thoughts to these most dreadful ones & before I was aware place hopes before me--futile but consoling[90]-- One day this lovely spirit--whose name as she told me was Fantasia came to me in one of her consolotary moods--her wings which seemed coloured by her tone of mind were not gay but beautiful like that of the partridge & her lovely eyes although they ever burned with an unquenshable fire were shaded & softened by her heavy lids & the black long fringe of her eye lashes--She thus addressed me--You mourn for the loss of those you love.