4

July 1817, and was reprinted as an Appendix in my Library edition of Keats's Works.

Charles Ollier, reputed the leading spirit in the young firm of publishers who issued this book, seems to have been well enough pleased with the volume at first; for in what appears to have been his own copy he wrote immediately on its appearance, the following Sonnet:

Keats I admire thine upward daring Soul,

Thine eager grasp at immortality

I deem within thy reach ;-rejoic'd I see
Thee spurn,
with brow serene, the gross controul
Of circumstance, while o'er thee visions roll
In radiant pomp of lovely Poesy!

She points to blest abodes where spirits free
Feed on her smiles and her great name extol.
Still shall the pure flame bright within thee burn
While nature's voice alone directs thy mind;
Who bids thy speculation inward turn

Assuring thee her transcript thou shalt find.
Live her's-live freedom's friend-so round thine urn

The oak shall with thy laurels be entwin'd.

I have no evidence of authorship beyond the hand-writing; but I have no doubt about its being the writing of Charles Ollier. This sonnet, dated the 2nd of March 1817, represents a far pleasanter phase of Keats's connexion with his first publisher than that represented by another document in prose. George Keats would seem to have become more or less aggressive on his brother's behalf within two months of the issue of the little book. What his controversy with the Olliers was we do not know; but he seems to have written them a letter to which the following is their reply.

Sir,-We regret that your brother ever requested us to publish his book, or that our opinion of its talent should have led us to acquiesce in undertaking it. We are, however, much obliged to you for relieving us from the unpleasant necessity of declining any further connexion with it, which we must have done, as we think the curiosity is satisfied, and the sale has dropped. By far the greater number of persons who have purchased it from us have found fault with it in such plain terms, that we have in many cases offered to take the book back rather than be annoyed with the ridicule which has, time after time, been showered upon it. In fact, it was only on Saturday last that we were under the mortification of having our own opinion of its merits flatly contradicted by a gentleman, who told us he considered it 'no better than a take in.' These are unpleasant imputations for any one in business to labour under, but we should have borne them and concealed their existence from you had not the style of your note shewn us that such delicacy would be quite thrown away. We shall take means without delay for ascertaining the number of copies on hand, and you shall be informed accordingly. Your most, &c.

3, Welbeck Street, 29th April, 1817.

C. & J. Ollier.

This letter appeared in 'The Athenæum' for the 7th of June 1873, and was reprinted in the Appendix to Volume I of the Library edition of Keats's Works.

H. B. F.

DEDICATION.

TO LEIGH HUNT, ESQ.

GLORY and loveliness have pass'd away;
For if we wander out in early morn,

No wreathed incense do we see upborne
Into the east, to meet the smiling day :

No crowd of nymphs soft voic'd and young, and gay,
In woven baskets bringing ears of corn,

Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn
The shrine of Flora in her early May.
But there are left delights as high as these,
And I shall ever bless my destiny,
That in a time, when under pleasant trees
Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free,
A leafy luxury, seeing I could please

With these poor offerings, a man like thee.

Charles Cowden Clarke (Recollections of Keats) says that on the evening when the last proof sheet of the 1817 volume was brought from the printer, it was accompanied by the information that, if a "dedication to the book was intended it must be sent forthwith." Whereupon he withdrew to a side table, and in the buzz of a mixed conversation, composed and brought to Charles Ollier, the publisher, this Dedication Sonnet.

The following sonnet, which Hunt wrote to Keats in reply to this dedication, is transcribed from Keats's own copy of 'Foliage; or Poems Õriginal and Translated, by Leigh Hunt' (1818), bearing upon the title-page, in Hunt's beautiful writing, the words "John Keats from his affectionate friend the Author." Keats gave the book to Miss Brawne; and it is now in my possession.

To JOHN KEATS.

'Tis well you think me truly one of those,
Whose sense discerns the loveliness of things;
For surely as I feel the bird that sings
Behind the leaves, or dawn as it up grows,
Or the rich bee rejoicing as he goes,
Or the glad issue of emerging springs,
Or overhead the glide of a dove's wings,
Or turf, or trees, or, midst of all, repose.
And surely as I feel things lovelier still,
The human look, and the harmonious form
Containing woman, and the smile in ill,
And such a heart as Charles's, wise and warm,-
As surely as all this, I see, ev'n now,

Young Keats, a flowering laurel on your brow.

Hunt notes that the "Charles" of the last line but two is "Charles C. C. [Cowden Clarke], a mutual friend."

POEMS.

"Places of nestling green for Poets made.

I STOOD tip-toe upon a little hill,

The air was cooling, and so very still,

STORY OF RIMINI.

That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,

Their scantly leav'd, and finely tapering stems,

5

Had not yet lost those starry diadems

Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.

The clouds were pure and white as flocks new shorn,

And fresh from the clear brook; sweetly they slept

10

On the blue fields of heaven, and then there crept
A little noiseless noise among the leaves,
Born of the very sigh that silence heaves :
For not the faintest motion could be seen
Of all the shades that slanted o'er the green.
There was wide wand'ring for the greediest eye,
To peer about upon variety;

Far round the horizon's crystal air to skim,
And trace the dwindled edgings of its brim;
To picture out the quaint, and curious bending

15

1. Leigh Hunt tells us in 'Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries' that "this poem was suggested to Keats by a delightful summer's-day, as he stood beside the gate that leads from the Battery on Hampstead Heath into a field by Caen Wood." This is of course merely an identification of the locality; and the poem was clearly not written there or then; for in a letter to Charles Cowden Clarke postmarked the 17th of December 1816 Keats writes of finishing this poem "in one more attack." He speaks of it as 'Endymion'; and that that was the name by which he designated this poem before publication I learned in 1883 by inspecting George Keats's transcript of it-headed 'Endymion'. I did not note any variations of text. No doubt the title was abandoned at the time of publication because the poet had already in his mind the full treatment of the subject which he gave to the world in 1818.

12. Hunt calls this ('Examiner') "a fancy, founded, as all beautiful fancies are, on a strong sense of what really exists or occurs.

Of a fresh woodland alley, never ending;

20

Or by the bowery clefts, and leafy shelves,

Guess where the jaunty streams refresh themselves.
I gazed awhile, and felt as light, and free

As though the fanning wings of Mercury

Had play'd upon my heels: I was light-hearted,
And many pleasures to my vision started;
So I straightway began to pluck a posey
Of luxuries bright, milky, soft and rosy.

25

A bush of May flowers with the bees about them;

Ah, sure no tasteful nook would be without them ;
And let a lush laburnum oversweep them,

30

And let long grass grow round the roots to keep them

Moist, cool and green; and shade the violets,
That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.

A filbert hedge with wild briar overtwin'd,
And clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind

35

Upon their summer thrones; there too should be
The frequent chequer of a youngling tree,

That with a score of light green brethren shoots
From the quaint mossiness of aged roots:

40

Round which is heard a spring-head of clear waters

Babbling so wildly of its lovely daughters

The spreading blue-bells: it may haply mourn

That such fair clusters should be rudely torn

From their fresh beds, and scatter'd thoughtlessly

45

On many harps, which he has lately strung;

And when again your dewiness he kisses,
Tell him, I have you in my world of blisses:
So haply when I rove in some far vale,
His mighty voice may come upon the gale.

Here are sweet peas, on tip-toe for a flight :
With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,

55

37-41. Of this passage Hunt says in 'The Examiner', "Any body who has seen a throng of young beeches, furnishing those natural clumpy seats at the root, must recognize the truth and grace of this description." He adds that the remainder of the poem, especially verses 47 to 86, "affords an exquisite proof of close observation of nature as well as the most luxuriant fancy."