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Updated: April 30, 2025
Once in my life I had obtained a slight glimpse of the same sensation, and then too, strangely enough, while swimming, in the mightiest ocean-surge into which I had ever dared plunge my mortal body. Keats hints at the same sudden emotion, in a wild poem written among the Scottish mountains.
It had the dignity of tragedy. Sir Sidney Colvin regrets that the love-letters of Keats to Fanny were ever published. It would be as reasonable, in my opinion, to regret the publication of La Belle Dame sans Merci. La Belle Dame sans Merci says in literature merely what the love-letters say in autobiography. The love-letters, indeed, like the poem, affect us as great literature does.
Keats from ever taking his place among the pure and classical poets of his mother tongue.
The natives, too, have a sinful habit of chattering and shouting at an hour when all well-conducted persons should be steeped in their beauty sleep. A few nights ago this culminated in what Keats would have called a "purple riot." The sweeper and his friends were holding a meeting for the purpose of conversation and the consumption of apple brandy.
Conrad's best work, then, is to be found, I agree with most people in believing, in three of his volumes of short stories in Typhoon, Youth, and 'Twixt Land and Sea. His fame will, I imagine, rest chiefly on these, just as the fame of Wordsworth and Keats rests on their shorter poems. Here is the pure gold of his romance written in terms largely of the life of the old sailing-ship. Mr.
The original 1816 edition of Rimini, for instance, is of a desperate rarity, yet not to be able to refer to it in the grotesqueness of this its earliest form is to miss a most curious proof of the crude taste of the young school out of which Shelley and Keats were to arise.
For there certainly is elsewhere a sort of motionless movement, as Keats speaks of "a little noiseless noise among the leaves," or as the summer clouds form and disappear without apparent wind and without prejudice to the stillness.
Allston was at that time the only discriminating judge among the strangers to Keats who were residing abroad, and he took occasion to emphasize in my hearing his opinion of the early effusions of the young poet in words like these: "They are crude materials of real poetry, and Keats is sure to become a great poet."
He does not emphasize as he ought the debt we are under to Fanny Brawne as the intensifier of Keats's genius the "minx," as Keats irritably called her, who transformed him in a few months from a poet of still doubtful fame into a master and an immortal.
Dicky Keats, Ned Berry, the Honourayble Blackwood: good men all and gluttons at it! but for the real old style stuff, ammer-and-tongs, fight to a finish, takin punishment and givin it, there ain't a seaman afloat as'll touch our old man." He spat over the side. "Yes, sir, when he went, I went along, and never regretted it never.
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