VI

TO G. A. W.

TYMPH of the downward smile and sidelong glance,

NYMPH

In what diviner moments of the day

Art thou most lovely? — when gone far astray
Into the labyrinths of sweet utterance,

Or when serenely wand'ring in a trance

Of sober thought? - or when starting away
With careless robe to meet the morning ray
Thou spar'st the flowers in thy mazy dance?
Haply 't is when thy ruby lips part sweetly,

And so remain, because thou listenest:
But thou to please wert nurtured so completely
That I can never tell what mood is best.
I shall as soon pronounce which Grace more neatly
Trips it before Apollo than the rest.

VII.

SOLITUDE! if I must with the dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap

Of murky buildings; climb with me to the steep, -
Nature's observatory — whence the dell,

--

Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,

The subject of this sonnet was Miss Georgiana Augusta Wylie, afterwards the wife of Keats's brother George, and now (1881) Mrs. Jeffrey. I should not have connected the sonnet positively with this lady had I not seen the manuscript in Keats's writing, headed "To Miss Wylie." The manuscript corresponds verbatim with the sonnet as published in 1817; but in the two quatrains the better punctuation is that of the manuscript; and I have followed it in the text. The thirteenth line shows one correction: Nymph was originally written where Grace now stands. In a transcript in Tom Keats's copy-book we read what grace; and the sonnet is headed "Sonnet to a Lady," and dated "Dec. 1816."

This Sonnet, published in The Examiner for the 5th of May 1816, signed "J. K.," is stated by Charles Cowden Clarke (Gentleman's Magazine for February 1874) to be “ Keats's first published poem." In Tom Keats's copy-book it is headed" Sonnet to Solitude," and undated. The only variation is in line 9, — I'd for I'll. The Examiner reads rivers for river's in line 5, and lines 9 and 10 stand thus — Ah! fain would I frequent such scenes with thee;

But the sweet converse of an innocent mind.

May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep

'Mongst boughs pavillion'd, where the deer's swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

VIII.

TO MY BROTHERS.

MALL, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals,
And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep

A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls.

And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles,
Your eyes are fix'd, as in poetic sleep,

Upon the lore so voluble and deep,

That aye at fall of night our care condoles.

In Tom Keats's copy-book this sonnet is headed "Written to his Brother Tom on his Birthday," and dated, "Nov. 18, 1816." In the last line the transcript reads place for face. The sonnet seems to have been originally written in pencil in the note-book referred to at page 61, immediately after the sonnet to George Keats; but the two quatrains, which fill one page, are all that I found of this sonnet among the Keats relics of Severn. The quatrains stand finally thus in the draft:

Small flames are peeping through the fresh laid coals
And their faint Crackling o'er our Silence creeps
Like Whispers of the Household God that keeps

A gentle empire o'er fraternal Souls

And while for Rhymes I search around the Poles
Your Eyes are fixéd as in poetic sleep
Upon the Pages Voluble and deep
That aye at fall of Night our care condoles.

There is a cancelled reading at line 2, unfinished -

With a faint Crackling head distract. .

and another at line 5

And while I am thinking of a Rhyme;

and here searching was substituted for thinking of, before the whole was cancelled in favour of the reading of the text.

This is your birth-day Tom, and I rejoice
That thus it passes smoothly, quietly.
Many such eves of gently whisp'ring noise
May we together pass, and calmly try

What are this world's true joys, — ere the great voice,
From its fair face, shall bid our spirits fly.

NOVEMBER 18, 1816.

KE

IX.*

EEN, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;

The stars look very cold about the sky,

And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,

Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness

That in a little cottage I have found;
Of fair-hair'd Milton's eloquent distress,
And all his love for gentle Lycid drown'd:
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown'd.

x.t

one who has been long in city pent,

And open face of heaven, to breathe a prayer

Full in the smile of the blue firmament.

Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,

Clarke records that this sonnet was written on the occasion of Keats's first becoming acquainted with Leigh Hunt at the Cottage in the Vale of Health, Hamp stead.

+ In a transcript in the hand-writing of George Keats this sonnet is subscribed as Written in the Fields - June 1816." The variations shown by this manuscript, no doubt correctly copied from the original, are, in line 2, upon for into; in line 4 bright for blue; in line 5 hearfs is written correctly, though hearts is wrongly

Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
And gentle tale of love and languishment?
Returning home at evening, with an ear
Catching the notes of Philomel,
an eye
Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,
He mourns that day so soon has glided by:
E'en like the passage of an angel's tear
That falls through the clear ether silently.

XI.

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.

[UCH have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

MU

*

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow`d Homer rul`d as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:

printed in the 1817 volume; in line 6 upon a for into some; in line 7 some for a; ir line 9 Returning, thoughtful, homeward for Returning home at evening; line 11 is Following the wafted Cloudlet's light career;

and line 14 is

That droppeth through the Æther silently.

In Tom Keats's copy-book the only variation from the printed text of 1817 is in line 4, bright for blue. It is clear the sonnet was carefully revised for the 1817 volume; and it is curious Keats did not find out that he was indebted to Milton for his "prosperous opening." Compare Paradise Lost, IX, 445.

As one who long in populous City pent...

*Charles Cowden Clarke says, in the article in The Gentleman's Magazine referred to at page 44, that this sonnet was sent to him by Keats so as to reach him at 10 o'clock one morning when they two had parted "at day-spring" after a night encounter with a copy of Chapman's Homer belonging to Mr. Alsager of The Times. Mr. F. Locker possesses an undated manuscript of the sonnet in Keats's writing, headed "On the first looking into Chapman's Homer;' " while in Tom Keats' copy-book the heading is " Sonnet on looking into Chapman's Homer," and the date" 1816." In that book, though not in Mr. Locker's manuscript, line 5 opens with But instead of Oft. In the manuscript line 6 originally read Which low-brow'd Homer; but deep is substituted for low; and for line 7 we read both in the manuscript and in the copy-book

Ye: could I never judge what men could mean.

In line 11 the autograph manuscript reads wond'ring eyes for eagle eyes. The vari

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes

He star'd at the Pacific- and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

ation in line 7 is of value in connexion with one of the reminiscences of Clarke, who says the seventh line originally stood thus:

Yet could I never tell what men could mean

and that Keats substituted the reading of the text because he considered the first reading "bald, and too simply wondering." But he may have been actuated by another reason also, as thus: in an article headed "Young Poets" in The Examiner for the 1st of December 1816, Hunt had spoken in high praise of a set of Keats's manuscript poems shown to him, and had printed this one as given in Tom Keats's copy-book, with the remark that it contained "one incorrect rhyme." The only disputable rhyme is that of mean and demesne, and that is got rid of by the revision. "The rest of the composition," says Hunt," with the exception of a little vagueness in calling the regions of poetry 'the realms of gold,' we do not hesitate to pronounce excellent, especially the last six lines. The word swims is complete; and the whole conclusion is equally powerful and quiet." He appears to have become reconciled to" the realms of gold" in later years, to judge from the close of that charming work Imagination and Fancy. Speaking of this sonnet he says at page 345 (I quote the third edition, dated 1846), --"Stared' has been thought by some too violent, but it is precisely the word required by the occasion. The Spaniard was too original and ardent a man either to look, or to affect to look, coldly superior to it. His 'eagle eyes' are from life, as may be seen by Titian's portrait of him." Of the last line, which ends the poetry of Imagination and Fancy, Hunt says "We leave the reader standing upon it, with all the illimitable world of thought and feeling before him, to which his imagination will have been brought, while journeying through these 'realms of gold.'

The last four lines seem to be a reminiscence of Robertson's History of America, recorded by Clarke as among Keats's later school reading; but, as Mr. Tennyson pointed out to Mr. Palgrave (Golden Treasury, 1861, page 320) the reference should really be to Balboa. From Hunt's remark about the portrait it is clear this was no mere slip of the pen: Cortez was the man whom Keats's imagination saw in the situation, and it is to be presumed that his memory betrayed him, for it seems unlikely that he met with the story elsewhere, told of Cortez. The passage in Robertson's History of America (Works, edition of 1817, Volume VIII, page 287) is as follows:

"At length the Indians assured them, that from the top of the next mountain they should discover the ocean which was the object of their wishes. When, with infinite toil, they had climbed up the greater part of that steep ascent, Balboa commanded his men to halt, and advanced alone to the summit, that he might be the first who should enjoy a spectacle which he had so long desired. As soon as he beheld the South Sea stretching in endless prospect below him, he fell on his knees, and lifting up his hands to heaven, returned thanks to God, who had conducted him to a discovery so beneficial to his country, and so honourable to himself. His followers, observing his transports of joy, rushed forward to join in his wonder, exultation, and gratitude."

An account of this incident will also be found in Washington Irving's Voyages and Discoveries of the Companions of Columbus. The reader will of course turn to the Sonnet to Homer among the posthumous Poems of 1818, and read it in connexion with this one published by Keats. It is not difficult to decide which is the finer; but that, though not so great a sonnet as this, has some lines that are hardly indeed to be surpassed.