by Severn, was made in 1817, and pronounced by Leigh Hunt and others to be excellent. The fac-simile of the little song beginning

"Unfelt, unheard, unseen,

I've left my little queen," &c., &c.,

I selected for reproduction, not because of any characteristic merit in the song, but because it was the only rough draft I had at hand showing the poet's corrections and emendations.

MENDHAM, November, 1883.

J. G. S.

EARLY POEMS

WRITTEN BEFORE THE COMPLETION OF ENDYMION."

IMITATION OF SPENCER.'S

OW morning from her orient chamber came, And her first footsteps touch'da verdant hill: Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame, Silvering the untainted gushes of its rill; Which, pure from mossy beds, did down distil, And after parting beds of simple flowers, By many streams a little lake did fill,

Which round its marge reflected woven bowers, And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers.

There the kingfisher saw his plumage bright,
Vying with fish of brilliant dye below;
Whose silken fins' and golden scales' light
Cast upward, through the waves, a ruby glow:
There saw the swan his neck of arched snow,

On the authority of the notes of Mr. Brown, given to me at Florence, in 1832, I have stated this to be the VOL. II.

1

earliest known composition of Keats, and to have been written during his residence at Edmonton.-ED.

And oar'd himself along with majesty:
Sparkled his jetty eyes; his feet did show
Beneath the waves like Afric's ebony,

And on his back a fay reclined voluptuously.

Ah! could I tell the wonders of an isle That in that fairest lake had placed been, I could e'en Dido of her grief beguile; Or rob from aged Lear his bitter teen : For sure so fair a place was never seen Of all that ever charm'd romantic eye: It seem'd an emerald in the silver sheen Of the bright waters; or as when on high, Through clouds of fleecy white, laughs the cærulean sky.

And all around it dipp'd luxuriously
Slopings of verdure through the glossy tide,
Which, as it were in gentle amity,

Rippled delighted up the flowery side;
As if to glean the ruddy tears it tried,
Which fell profusely from the rose-tree stem!
Haply it was the workings of its pride,
In strife to throw upon the shore a gem
Outvying all the buds in Flora's diadem.

1812.

W

TO SOME LADIES.

HAT though, while the wonders of nature exploring,

I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend; Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring, Bless Cynthia's face, the enthusiast's friend,

Yet over the steep, whence the mountain-stream rushes,

With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove; Mark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate gushes, Its spray, that the wild flower kindly bedews.

Why linger ye so, the wild labyrinth strolling? Why breathless, unable your bliss to declare? Ah! you list to the nightingale's tender condoling, Responsive to sylphs, in the moon-beamy air.

'Tis morn, and the flowers with dew are yet drooping, I see you are treading the verge of the sea: And now! ah, I see it—you just now are stooping To pick up the keepsake intended for me.

If a cherub, on pinions of silver descending,
Had brought me a gem from the fretwork of
Heaven;

And, smiles with his star-cheering voice sweetly blending,

The blessings of Tighe had melodiously given,