The facade of S. Martino is of the fourteenth century, as is that of S. Agostino, its neighbour, where you may find another altar by Stagio.

Then it may be at evening you seek the sea-shore, that mysterious, forlorn coast where the waves break almost with a caress.  It was here, or not far away, somewhere between this little wonderful city and Viareggio, then certainly a mere village, that Shelley’s body was burned, as Trelawney records.[15] “The lovely and grand scenery that surrounded us,” he says, “so exactly harmonised with Shelley’s genius, that I could imagine his spirit soaring over us....  Not a human dwelling was in sight....  I got a furnace made at Leghorn of iron bars and strong sheet-iron supported on a stand, and laid in a stock of fuel and such things as were said to be used by Shelley’s much-loved Hellenes on their funeral pyres....  At ten on the following morning, Captain S. and myself, accompanied by several officers of the town, proceeded in our boat down the small river which runs through Via Reggio (and forms its harbour for coasting vessels) to the sea.[16] Keeping along the beach towards Massa, we landed at about a mile from Via Reggio, at the foot of the grave; the place was noted by three wand-like reeds stuck in the sand in a parallel line from high to low-water mark.  Doubting the authenticity of such pyramids, we moved the sand in the line indicated, but without success.  I then got five or six men with spades to dig transverse lines.  In the meanwhile Lord Byron’s carriage with Mr. Leigh Hunt arrived, accompanied by a party of dragoons and the chief officers of the town.  In about an hour, and when almost in despair, I was paralysed with the sharp and thrilling noise a spade made in coming in direct contact with the skull.  We now carefully removed the sand.  This grave was even nearer the sea than the other [Williams’s], and although not more than two feet deep, a quantity of the salt water oozed in.

“...  We have built a much larger pile to-day, having previously been deceived as to the immense quantity of wood necessary to consume a body in the unconfined atmosphere.”  Mr. Shelley had been reading the poems of “Lamia” and “Isabella” by Keats, as the volume was found turned back open in his pocket; so sudden was the squall.  The fragments being now collected and placed in the furnace here fired, and the flames ascended to the height of the lofty pines near us.  We again gathered round, and repeated, as far as we could remember, the ancient rites and ceremonies used on similar occasions.  Lord B. wished to have preserved the skull, which was strikingly beautiful in its form.  It was very small and very thin, and fell to pieces on attempting to remove it.