When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies deadWhen the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. 85 90 5 45 50 Like the wind through a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges 15 The artist who this idol wrought, Of its companions; and no more Is heard than has been felt before, 55 60 65 70 75 80 That ring the dead seaman's knell. JOHN KEATS (1795-1821). The parents of John Keats were living, at the time of his birth, at the Swan-and-Hoop stable in Finsbury, London. As a boy Keats was a sturdy fellow, with a hot temper, fond of fighting, fond of 'gold-finches, tomtits, minnows, mice, tickle-backs, dace, cock-salmons, and all the whole tribe of the bushes and the brooks.' It was toward the end of his schooldays that he was set dreaming by Spenser's Faery Queen. He persevered, however, in his medical studies, passed his surgeon's examination with credit in 1815, and proved a skilful operator. But he was excessively sensitive to the nervous strain incident to surgery and, also, he was pining for a poetic career, 'Like a sick eagle looking at the sky.' Early in 1816 he met Leigh Hunt and through him numerous poets and artists, including Shelley, Wordsworth, and the painter Haydon. Shelley took a lively interest in him and attempted to show him hospitality. Wordsworth, whom he admired highly, is said to have chilled him by remarking after Keats had recited his Hymn to Pan for the benefit of a company: 'A pretty piece of Paganism!' To Haydon he owed something of an initiation into art and an opportunity to lend thirty pounds. In May, 1816, Hunt published in his Examiner the sonnet 'O Solitude! if I with thee must dwell,' and Keats had, so to speak, his first taste of blood. He now gave himself with increasing constancy to composition. His first volume came in March, 1817, and a year later Endymion. Chiefly because of Keats's friendship with Hunt, who was hated for his political opinions, these earlier volumes were sneeringly reviewed. Though Keats was indignant, it was by no means, The Quarterly, so savage and tartarly' that killed him. Partially from nursing his brother Tom through his last illness and partially, perhaps, from inherited susceptibility he became a victim of consumption. A few months snatched from the grave, harassed by insufficient means, the law's delay,' and 'the pangs of disprized love,' produced the more mature and discreet work which lies between Endymion and his last sonnet ('Bright Star would I were steadfast as thou art '), composed on shipboard as he was leaving for Italy to die. Brief as was Shelley's career, all his poems of real importance were written between his twenty-sixth and thirtieth years; the corresponding years Keats never knew. Yet his poetry is far more than the poetry of promise. Some of it is as final as Shakspere.' FROM ENDYMION, BOOK I PROEM A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Pass into nothingness; but still will keep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet My little boat, for many quiet hours, breathing. 5 With streams that deepen freshly into bow Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees 61 His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, And back returneth, meager, barefoot, wan, 15 Emprisoned in black, purgatorial rails: |