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from George, cross lines by a short one from Tom yesterday dated Paris. They both send their loves to you. Like most Englishmen they feel a mighty preference for everything English - the French Meadows, the trees, the People, the Towns, the Churches, the Books, the everything — although they may be in themselves good: yet when put in comparison with our green Island they all vanish like Swallows in October. They have seen Cathedrals, Manuscripts, Fountains, Pictures, Tragedy, Comedy, with other things you may by chance meet with in this Country such as Washerwomen, Lamplighters, Turnpikemen, Fishkettles, Dancing Masters, Kettle drums, Sentry Boxes, Rocking Horses, etc. -and, now they have taken them over a set of boxing-gloves.

me.

I have written to George and requested him, as you wish I should, to write to you. I have been writing very hard lately, even till an utter incapacity came on, and I feel it now about my head: so you must not mind a little out-of-the-way sayings — though by the bye were my brain as clear as a bell I think I should have a little propensity thereto. I shall stop here till I have finished the 3d Book of my Story; which I hope will be accomplish'd in at most three Weeks from to-day - about which time you shall see How do you like Miss Taylor's essays in Rhyme 12 - I just look'd into the Book and it appeared to me suitable to you especially since I remember your liking for those pleasant little things the Original Poems the essays are the more mature production of the same hand. While I was speaking about France it occurred to me to speak a few Words on their Language · - it is perhaps the poorest one ever spoken since the jabbering in the Tower of Babel, and when you come to know that the real use and greatness of a Tongue is to be referred to its Literature - you will be astonished to find how very inferior it is to our native Speech. I wish the Italian would supersede French in every school throughout the

Country, for that is full of real Poetry and Romance of a kind more fitted for the Pleasure of Ladies than perhaps our own. — It seems that the only end to be gained in acquiring French is the immense accomplishment of speaking it — it is none at all -a most lamentable mistake indeed. Italian indeed would sound most musically from Lips which had began to pronounce it as early as French is crammed down our Mouths, as if we were young Jackdaws at the mercy of an overfeeding Schoolboy. Now Fanny you must write soon- - and write all you think about, never mind what - only let me have a good deal of your writing — You need not do it all at once be two or three or four days about it, and let it be a diary of your little Life. You will preserve all my Letters and I will secure yours and thus in the course of time we shall each of us have a good Bundle which, hereafter, when things may have strangely altered and God knows what happened, we may read over together and look with pleasure on times past that now are to come. Give my Respects to the Ladies and so my dear Fanny I am ever

Your most affectionate Brother JOHN. If you direct - Post Office, Oxford your Letter will be brought to me.

13. TO JANE REYNOLDS

Oxford, Sunday Evg. [September 14, 1817].

MY DEAR JANE - You are such a literal translator, that I shall some day amuse myself with looking over some foreign sentences, and imagining how you would render them into English. This is an age for typical Curiosities; and I would advise you, as a good speculation, to study Hebrew, and astonish the world with a figurative version in our native tongue. The Mountains skipping like rams, and the little hills like lambs, you will leave as far behind as the hare did the tortoise. It must be so or you would never have thought that I really

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meant you would like to pro and con about those Honeycombs no, I had no such idea, or, if I had, 't would be only to tease you a little for love. So now let me put down in black and white briefly my sentiments thereon. Imprimis I sincerely believe that Imogen is the finest creature, and that I should have been disappointed at hearing you prefer Juliet - Item - Yet I feel such a yearning towards Juliet that I would rather follow her into Pandemonium than Imogen into Paradise - heartily wishing myself a Romeo to be worthy of her, and to hear the Devils quote the old proverb, 'Birds of a feather flock together'. Amen.

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Now let us turn to the Seashore. Believe me, my dear Jane, it is a great happiness to see that you are in this finest part of the year winning a little enjoyment from the hard world. In truth, the great Elements we know of, are no mean comforters: the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown the Air is our robe of state- - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it —able, like David's harp, to make such a one as you forget almost the tempest cares of life. I have found in the ocean's music, varying (tho self-same) more than the passion of Timotheus, an enjoyment not to be put into words; and, though inland far I be,' I now hear the voice most audibly while pleasing myself in the idea of your sensations.

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is getting well apace, and if you have a few trees, and a little harvesting about I'll you, snap my fingers in Lucifer's eye. I hope you bathe too - if you do not, I earnestly recommend it. Bathe thrice a week, and let us have no more sitting up next winter. Which is the best of Shakspeare's plays? I mean in what mood and with what accompaniment do you like the sea best? It is very fine in the morning, when the sun,

'Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt sea streams,'

and superb when

'The sun from meridian height
Illumines the depth of the sea,
And the fishes, beginning to sweat,
Cry dit! how hot we shall be,'

and gorgeous, when the fair planet hastens 'To his home

Within the Western foam.'

But don't you think there is something extremely fine after sunset, when there are a few white clouds about and a few stars blinking— when the waters are ebbing, and the horizon a mystery? This state of things has been so fulfilling to me that I am anxious to hear whether it is a favourite with you. So when you and Marianne club your letter to me put in a word or two about it. Tell Dilke 18 that it would be perhaps as well if he left a Pheasant or Partridge alive here and there to keep up a supply of game for next season tell him to rein in if Possible all the Nimrod of his disposition, he being a mighty hunter before the Lord of the Manor. Tell him to shoot fair, and not to have at the Poor devils in a furrow when they are flying, he may fire, and nobody will be the wiser.

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Give my sincerest respects to Mrs. Dilke, saying that I have not forgiven myself for not having got her the little box of medicine I promised, and that, had I remained at Hampstead I would have made precious havoc with her house and furniture-drawn a great harrow over her garden-poisoned Boxer - eaten her clothes-pegs - fried her cabbages fricaseed (how is it spelt?) her radishes ragout'd her Onions belaboured her beat-root-outstripped her scarlet-runners parlez-vous'd with her french-beans devoured her mignon or mignionette metamorphosed her bellhandles splintered her looking-glassesbullocked at her cups and saucers agonised her decanters- put old Phillips to pickle in the brine-tub― disorganised her piano dislocated her candlesticks - emptied her wine-bins in a fit of despair

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turned out her maid to grass and astonished Brown; whose letter to her on these events I would rather see than the original Copy of the Book of Genesis. Should you see Mr. W. D. remember me to him, and to little Robinson Crusoe, and to Mr. Snook. Poor Bailey, scarcely ever well, has gone to bed, pleased that I am writing to you. To your brother John (whom henceforth I shall consider as mine) and to you, my dear friends, Marianne and Jane, I shall ever feel grateful for having made known to me so real a fellow as Bailey. He delights me in the selfish and (please God) the disinterested part of my disposition. If the old Poets have any pleasure in looking down at the enjoyers of their works, their eyes must bend with a double satisfaction upon him. I sit as at a feast when he is over them, and pray that if, after my death, any of my labours should be worth saving, they may have so 'honest a chronicler' as Bailey. Out of this, his enthusiasm in his own pursuit and for all good things is of an exalted kind — worthy a more healthful frame and an untorn spirit. He must have happy years to come -'he shall not die by God.'

A letter from John the other day was a chief happiness to me. I made a little mistake when, just now, I talked of being far inland. How can that be when Endymion and I are at the bottom of the sea? whence I hope to bring him in safety before you leave the seaside; and, if I can so contrive it, you shall be greeted by him upon the sea-sands, and he shall tell you all his adventures, which having finished, he shall thus proceed-'My dear Ladies, favourites of my gentle mistress, however my friend Keats may have teased and vexed you, believe me he loves you not the less for instance, I am deep in his favour, and yet he has been hauling me through the earth and sea with unrelenting perseverance. I know for all this that he is mighty fond of me, by his contriving me all sorts of pleasures. Nor is this the least, fair ladies, this

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one of meeting you on the desert shore, and greeting you in his name. He sends you

moreover this little scroll- ' My dear Girls, I send you, per favour of Endymion, the assurance of my esteem for you, and my utmost wishes for your health and pleasure, being ever,

Your affectionate Brother JOHN KEATS.

14. TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS

Oxford, Sunday Morn [September 21, 1817]. MY DEAR REYNOLDS So you are determined to be my mortal foe draw a Sword at me, and I will forgive - Put a Bullet in my Brain, and I will shake it out as a dewdrop from the Lion's Mane - put me on a Gridiron, and I will fry with great complacency-but-oh, horror! to come upon me in the shape of a Dun! Send me bills! as I say to my Tailor, send me Bills and I'll never employ you more. However, needs must, when the devil drives: and for fear of before and behind Mr. Honeycomb' I'll proceed. I have not time to elucidate the forms and shapes of the grass and trees; for, rot it! I forgot to bring my mathematical case with me, which unfortunately contained my triangular Prism so that the hues of the grass cannot be dissected for you

For these last five or six days, we have had regularly a Boat on the Isis, and explored all the streams about, which are more in number than your eye-lashes. We sometimes skim into a Bed of rushes, and there become naturalised river-folks, there is one particularly nice nest, which we have christened Reynolds's Cove,' in which we have read Wordsworth and talked as may be. I think I see you and Hunt meeting in the Pit. What a very pleasant fellow he is, if he would give up the sovereignty of a Room pro bono. What Evenings we might pass with him, could we have him from Mrs. H. Failings I am always rather rejoiced to find in a man than sorry for;

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they bring us to a Level. He has them, but then his makes-up are very good. He agrees with the Northern Poet 14 in this, 'He is not one of those who much delight to season their fireside with personal talk' I must confess however having a little itch that way, and at this present moment I have a few neighbourly remarks to make. The world, and especially our England, has, within the last thirty years, been vexed and teased by a set of Devils, whom I detest so much that I almost hunger after an Acherontic promotion to a Torturer, purposely for their accommodation. These devils are a set of women, who having taken a snack or Luncheon of Literary scraps, set themselves up for towers of Babel in languages, Sapphos in Poetry, Euclids in Geometry, and everything in nothing. Among such the name of Montague has been preeminent. The thing has made a very uncomfortable impression on me. I had longed for some real feminine Modesty in these things, and was therefore gladdened in the extreme on opening the other day, one of Bailey's Books a book of poetry written by one beautiful Mrs. Philips, a friend of Jeremy Taylor's, and called The Matchless Orinda — ' You must have heard of her, and most likely read her Poetry I wish you have not, that I may have the pleasure of treating you with a few stanzas - I do it at a venture You will not regret reading them once more. The following, to her friend Mrs. M. A. at parting, you will judge of.

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I have examin'd and do find, Of all that favour me

There's none I grieve to leave behind But only, only thee.

To part with thee I needs must die, Could parting sep'rate thee and I.

But neither Chance nor Complement
Did element our Love;

"T was sacred sympathy was lent

Us from the Quire above.
That Friendship Fortune did create,

Still fears a wound from Time or Fate.

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we will con over together. So Haydon is in Town. I had a letter from him yesterday. We will contrive as the winter comes on-but that is neither here nor there. Have you heard from Rice? Has Martin met with the Cumberland Beggar, or been wondering at the old Leech-gatherer? Has he a turn for fossils? that is, is he capable of sinking up to his Middle in a Morass? How is Hazlitt? We were reading his Table 15 last night. I know he thinks himself not estimated by ten people in the world-I wish he knew he is. I am getting on famous with my third Book - have written 800 lines thereof, and hope to finish it next Week. Bailey likes what I have done very much. Believe me, my dear Reynolds, one of my chief layings-up is the pleasure I shall have in showing it to you, I may now say, in a few days. I have heard twice from my Brothers, they are going on very well, and send their Remembrances to you. We expected to have had notices from little-Hampton this morning

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Now I think this is an excellent method of giving a very clear description of an interesting place such as Oxford is.

[Here follows the verses on Oxford, given on p. 252.]

16. TO BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON

Oxford, September 28 [1817]. MY DEAR HAYDON — I read your letter to the young Man, whose Name is Cripps. He seemed more than ever anxious to avail himself of your offer. I think I told you we asked him to ascertain his Means. He does not possess the Philosopher's stone nor Fortunatus's purse, nor Gyges's ring -but at Bailey's suggestion, whom I assure you is very capital fellow, we have stummed up a kind of contrivance whereby he will be enabled to do himself the benefits you will lay in his Path. I have a great Idea that he will be a tolerable neat brush. 'Tis perhaps the finest thing that will befal him this many a year: for he is just of an age to get grounded in bad habits from which you will pluck him. He brought a copy of Mary Queen of Scots: it appears to me that he has copied the bad style of the painting, as well as coloured the eyeballs yellow like the original. He has also the fault that you pointed out to me in Hazlitt on the constringing and diffusing of substance. However I really believe that he will take fire at the sight of your Picture - and set about things. If he can get ready in time to return to town with me, which will be in a few days I will bring him to you. You will be glad to hear that within these last three weeks I have written 1000 lines which are the third Book of my Poem. My Ideas with respect to it I assure you are very low- and I would write the subject thoroughly again - but I am tired of it and think the time would be better spent in writing a new Romance which I have in my eye for next summer Rome was not built in a Day - and all the good I expect from my employment this

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