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getting more and more close to you every day； ever since I knew you； and
now one of the first pleasures I look to is your happy marriage。〃
Reynolds was urging Keats to publish the 〃Pot of Basil〃 〃as an answer to
the attack made on me in Blackwood's Magazine and the Quarterly
Review。〃
Next Keats writes that he himself 〃never was in love； yet the voice and
shape of a woman has haunted me these two days。〃 On September 22；
1819； Keats sent Reynolds the 〃Ode to Autumn；〃 than which there is no
more perfect poem in the language of Shakespeare。 This was the last of
his published letters to Reynolds。 He was dying； haunted eternally by
that woman's shape and voice。
Reynolds's best…known book； if any of them can be said to be known
at all； was published under the name of John Hamilton。 It is 〃The
Garden of Florence； and Other Poems 〃 （Warren； London； 1821）。 There
is a dedicationto his young wife。
〃Thou hast entreated me to 'write no more；'〃 and he； as an elderly
〃man of twenty…four；〃 promises to obey。 〃The lily and myself henceforth
are two；〃 he says； implying that he and the lily have previously been
〃one；〃 a quaint confession from the poet of Peter Corcoran。 There is
something very pleasant in the graceful regret and obedience of this
farewell to the Muse。 He says to Mrs。 Reynolds：
〃I will not tell the world that thou hast chid My heart for worshipping
the idol Muse； That thy dark eye has given its gentle lid Tears for my
wanderings； I may not choose When thou dost speak but do as I am bid； …
And therefore to the roses and the dews； Very respectfully I make my bow；
… And turn my back upon the tulips now。〃
〃The chief poems in the collection； taken from Boccaccio； were to
have been associated with tales from the same source； intended to have
been written by a friend； but illness on his part and distracting
engagements on mine； prevented us from accomplishing our plan at the
time； and Death now； to my deep sorrow； has frustrated it for ever！〃
I cannot but quote what follows； the tribute to Keats's kindness； to the
most endearing quality our nature possesses； the quality that was Scott's in
such a winning degree； that was so marked in Moliere；
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〃He； who is gone； was one of the very kindest friends I ever possessed；
and yet he was not kinder； perhaps； to me than to others。 His intense mind
and powerful feeling would； I truly believe； have done the world some
service had his life been sparedbut he was of too sensitive a natureand
thus he was destroyed！ One story he completed； and that is to me now
the most pathetic poem in existence。〃
It was 〃Isabella； or the Pot of Basil。〃
The 〃Garden of Florence〃 is written in the couplets of 〃Endymion；〃
and is a beautiful version of the tale once more retold by Alfred de Musset
in 〃Simone。〃 From 〃The Romance of Youth〃 let me quote one stanza；
which applies to Keats：
〃He read and dreamt of young Endymion； Till his romantic fancy
drank its fill； He saw that lovely shepherd sitting lone； Watching his white
flocks upon Ida's hill； The Moon adored himand when all was still； And
stars were wakefulshe would earthward stray； And linger with her
shepherd love； until The hooves of the steeds that bear the car of day；
Struck silver light in the east； and then she waned away！〃
It was on Latmos； not Ida； that Endymion shepherded his flocks； but
that is of no moment； except to schoolmasters。 There are other stanzas of
Reynolds worthy of Keats； for example； this on the Fairy Queen：
〃Her bodice was a pretty sight to see； Ye who would know its colour；…
…be a thief Of the rose's muffled bud from off the tree； And for your
knowledge； strip it leaf by leaf Spite of your own remorse or Flora's grief；
Till ye have come unto its heart's pale hue； The last； last leaf； which is the
queen；the chief Of beautiful dim blooms： ye shall not rue； At sight of
that sweet leaf the mischief which ye do。〃
One does not know when to leave off gathering buds in the 〃Garden
of Florence。〃 Even after Shakespeare； and after Keats； this passage on
wild flowers has its own charm：
〃We gathered wood flowers；some blue as the vein O'er Hero's
eyelid stealing； and some as white； In the clustering grass； as rich Europa's
hand Nested amid the curls on Jupiter's forehead； What time he snatched
her through the startled waves； … Some poppies； too； such as in Enna's
meadows Forsook their own green homes and parent stalks； To kiss the
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fingers of Proserpina： And some were small as fairies' eyes； and bright As
lovers' tears！〃
I wish I had room for three or four sonnets； the Robin Hood sonnets
to Keats； and another on a picture of a lady。 Excuse the length of this
letter； and read this：
〃Sorrow hath made thine eyes more dark and keen； And set a whiter
hue upon thy cheeks； … And round thy pressed lips drawn anguish…streaks；
And made thy forehead fearfully serene。 Even in thy steady hair her work
is seen； For its still parted darknesstill it breaks In heavy curls upon thy
shouldersspeaks Like the stern wave； how hard the storm hath been！
〃So looked that hapless lady of the South； Sweet Isabella！ at that
dreary part Of all the passion'd hours of her youth； When her green Basil
pot by brother's art Was stolen away； so look'd her pained mouth In the
mute patience of a breaking heart！〃
There let us leave him； the gay rhymer of prize…fighters and eminent
personslet us leave him in a serious hour； and with a memory of Keats。
｛5｝
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ON VIRGIL
To Lady Violet Lebas。
Dear Lady Violet；Who can admire too much your undefeated
resolution to admire only the right things？ I