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LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS

No. I.

MY DEAR SIR:

TO HAYDON.

Your letter has filled me with a proud pleasure,
and shall be kept by me as a stimulus to exertion.
I begin to fix my eyes on an horizon. My feelings
entirely fall in with yours with regard to the ellip-
sis, and I glory in it. The idea of your sending it
to Wordsworth puts me out of breath-you know
with what reverence I would send my well-wishes
to him.
Yours sincerely,

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JOHN KEATS.

to teater opinion of Wordsworth,

MY DEAR Reynolds:

No. 2.a

My brothers are anxious that I should go by myself into the country; they have always been extremely fond of me, and now that Haydon has

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lucouraged bime to brace his powers by undistracted study, while be advised hime to love sousson for a while, and take more care of his health. The following notes, porother in March [187), shows that Hearts is as to your recommen

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pointed out how necessary it is that I should be alone to improve myself, they give up the temporary pleasure of being with me continually for a great good which I hope will follow; so I shall soon be out of town. You must soon bring all your present troubles to a close, and so must I, but we must, like the fox, prepare for a fresh swarm of flies. Banish money banish sofas-banish wine-banish music; but right Jack Health, honest Jack Health, true Jack Health.

Health and banish all the world.

Your sincere friend,

Banish

JOHN KEATS.

No. 3.

CARISBROOKE, April 17th, 1817.

MY DEAR REYNOLDS:

Ever since I wrote to my brother from Southampton, I have been in a taking, and at this moment I am about to become settled, for I have unpacked my books, put them into a snug corner, pinned up Haydon, Mary Queen [of] Scots, and Milton with his daughters in a row. In the passage I found a head of Shakspeare, which I had not before seen. It is most likely the same that George spoke so well of, for I like it extremely. Well, this head I have hung over my books, just above the three in a row, having first discarded a French ambassador; now this alone is a good morning's work. Yesterday I went to Shanklin, which occasioned a great debate in my mind whether I

should live there or at Carisbrooke. Shanklin is a most beautiful place; sloping wood and meadow ground reach round the Chine, which is a cleft between the cliffs, of the depth of nearly 300 feet, at least. This cleft is filled with trees and bushes in the narrow part; and as it widens becomes bare, if it were not for primroses on one side, which spread to the very verge of the sea, and some fishermen's huts on the other, perched midway in the balustrades of beautiful green hedges along the steps down to the sands. But the sea, Jack, the sea, the little waterfall, then the white cliff, then St. Catherine's Hill, "the sheep in the meadows, the cows in the corn." Then why are you at Carisbrooke? say you. Because, in the first place, I should be at twice the expense and three times the inconvenience; next, that from here I can see your continent from a little hill close by, the whole north angle of the Isle of Wight, with the water between us; in the third place, I see Carisbrooke Castle from my window, and have found several delightful wood alleys and copses, and quiet freshes; as for primroses, the island ought to be called Primrose Island; that is, if the nation of cowslips agree thereto, of which there are divers clans just beginning to lift up their heads. Another reason of my fixing is, that I am more in reach of the places around me. I intend to walk over the island, east, west, north, south. I have not seen many specimens of ruins. I don't think, however, I shall ever see one to surpass Carisbrooke Castle. The trench is overgrown with the smoothest turf, and the walls with ivy. The keep within side is one bower of ivy; a colony

of jackdaws have been there for many years. dare say I have seen many a descendant of some old cawer who peeped through the bars at Charles the First, when he was there in confinement. On the road from Cowes to Newport I saw some extensive barracks, which disgusted me extremely with the Government for placing such a nest of debauchery in so beautiful a place. I asked a man on the coach about this, and he said that the people had been spoiled. In the room where I slept at Newport, I found this on the window: "O Isle spoilt by the milatary!"

The wind is in a sulky fit, and I feel that it would be no bad thing to be the favourite of some fairy, who would give one the power of seeing how our friends got on at a distance. I should like, of all loves, a sketch of you and Tom and George, in ink, which Haydon will do if you tell him how I want them. From want of regular rest I have been rather narvus, and the passage in Lear, “Do you not hear the sea?" has haunted me intensely.

"It keeps eternal whisperings around," &c.1

April 18th.

I'll tell you what on the 23d was Shakspeare born. Now if I should receive a letter from you, and another from my brother on that day, 'twould be a parlous good thing. Whenever you write, say a word or two on some passage in Shakspeare that may have come rather new to you, which must be continually happening, notwithstanding that we

See the Poems.

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