I. POEMS

Page 1. IMITATION OF SPENSER.

A transcript of this poem in a copy-book of Tom Keats contains two variations from the text of 1817. Line 12 reads,

'Whose silken fins, and golden scalès light' and in line 29 glassy for glossy. The first reading is required by the rhythm; but the absence of the mark of the possessive case leads one to think that the accent mark may have been a hasty reading of the proper mark as printed.

Page 9. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.

That it was Balboa and not Cortez who first saw the Pacific Ocean, an American school-boy could have told Keats; but it is not such slips as these that unmake poetry.

Page 9. EPISTLE TO GEORGE FELTON MA

The original valentine of which these lines are an enlargement was as follows:

Hadst thou lived in days of old,
Oh, what wonders had been told
Of thy lively dimpled face,

And thy footsteps full of grace :
Of thy hair's luxurious darkling,
Of thine eye's expressive sparkling,
And thy voice's swelling rapture,
Taking hearts a ready capture.
Oh! if thou hadst breathed then,
Thou hadst made the Muses ten.
Couldst thou wish for lineage higher

Than twin sister of Thalia?

At least for ever, ever more

Will I call the Graces four.'

Then follow lines 41-68, and the valentine closes,

'Ah me! whither shall I flee ?
Thou hast metamorphosed me.
Do not let me sigh and pine,
Prythee be my valentine.'

Page 13. SONNET: TO ONE WHO HAS BEEN LONG IN CITY PENT.

Mr. Forman points out Keats's echo in the first line of Milton's line,

'Green little vaulter in the sunny grass

Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole voice that 's heard amidst the lazy noon,
When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
With those who think the candles come too soon,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune
Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;
Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,

One to the fields, the other to the hearth,

Both have your sunshine; both though small are strong
At your clear hearts; and both were sent on earth
To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song,
In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth.'

Page 40. LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN. Sir Charles Dilke has a manuscript copy of which the four closing lines are:-

Our freshening River through you birchen

grove :

Do come now!' Could he gainsay her who strove,

So soothingly, to breathe away a Curse?

Lines 440-442.

When last the Harvesters rich armfuls took.
She tied a little bucket to a Crook,
Ran some swift paces to a dark well's side,
And in a sighing-time return'd, supplied
With spar-cold water; in which she did squeeze
A snowy napkin, and upon her knees
Began to cherish her poor Brother's face;
Damping refreshfully his forehead's space,
His eyes, his Lips: then in a cupped shell
She brought him ruby wine; then let him
smell,

Time after time, a precious amulet,
Which seldom took she from its cabinet.
Thus was he quieted to slumbrous rest:

Line 466.

A cheerfuller resignment, and a smile
For his fair Sister flowing like the Nile
Through all the channels of her piety,
He said: 'Dear Maid, may I this moment die,
If I feel not this thine endearing Love.

Lines 470-472.

From woodbine hedges such a morning feel,
As do those brighter drops, that twinkling steal
Through those pressed lashes, from the blos
som'd plant

Lines 494, 495.

More forest-wild, more subtle-cadenced
Than can be told by mortal; even wed
The fainting tenors of a thousand shells
To a million whisperings of lily bells;
And mingle too the nightingale's complain
Caught in its hundredth echo; 't would be
vain:

Lines 539, 540.

And come to such a Ghost as I am now! But listen, Sister, I will tell thee how.

Lines 545, 556.

And in this spot the most endowing boon
Of balmy air, sweet blooms, and coverts fresh
Has been outshed; yes, all that could enmesh
Our human senses - make us fealty swear
To gadding Flora. In this grateful lair
Have I been used to pass my weary eves.

Line 555. Ditamy. So Keats unmistakably in manuscript and print. The prevailing form is dittany.

In the green opening smiling. Gods that keep,
Mercifully, a little strength of heart

Unkill'd in us by raving, pang and smart;
And do preserve it like a lily root,
That, in another spring, it may outshoot
From its wintry prison; let this hour go
Drawling along its heavy weight of woe

And leave me living! 'Tis not more than need

Your veriest help. Ah! how long did I feed
On that crystalline life of Portraiture!
How hover'd breathless at the tender lure!
How many times dimpled the watery glass
With maddest kisses; and, till they did pass
And leave the liquid smooth again, how mad!
O't was as if the absolute sisters had
My Life into the compass of a Nut
Or all my breathing and shut

To a scanty straw. To look above I fear'd

Whose track the venturous Latmian follows bold.

That the wild warmth prob'd the young sleeper's heart

Enchantingly; and with a sudden start
His trembling arms were out in instant time
To catch his fainting love. -O foolish rhyme,
What mighty power is in thee that so often
Thou strivest rugged syllables to soften
Even to the telling of a sweet like this.
Away! let them embrace alone! that kiss
Was far too rich for thee to talk upon.
Poor wretch! mind not those sobs and sighs!
begone!

Speak not one atom of thy paltry stuff,
That they are met is poetry enough.

Line 541. The finished manuscript reads dies; the first edition has dyes. The former seems the more poetic reading, and yet the construction would introduce a new image rather abruptly. Line 578. The text reads,

'Thou shouldst mount up to with me. Now adieu !' But the word 'to' so destroys both rhythm and sense, that I have ventured to throw it out as an overlooked error.

Line 589. By throwing the emphasis strongly on all, the meaning of the line is made evident. Line 628. Keats tried massy, blackening, and bulging, before he settled on jutting.

Lines 642-657.

About her majesty, and her pale brow With turrets crown'd, which forward heavily bow

Weighing her chin to the breast. Four lions draw

The wheels in sluggish time- each toothed

maw

Shut patiently eyes hid in tawny veilsDrooping about their paws, and nervy tails Cowering their tufted brushes to the dust.

Lines 657-660.

To cloudborne Jove he bent: and there was

tost

Into his grasping hands a silken cord
At which without a single impious word
He swung upon it off into the gloom.

Lines 668-671.

With airs delicious. Long he hung about
Before his nice enjoyment could pick out
The resting place: but at the last he swung
Into the greenest cell of all-among
Dark leaved jasmine: star flower'd and be
strown

With golden moss.

Lines 756, 757.

Enchantress! tell me by this mad embrace, By the moist languor of thy breathing face.