Life, Letters, and Literary Remains, of John Keats
G. P. Putnam, 1848 - Electronic books - 393 pages
Though Keats's publishers wished to publish "The Memoirs and Remains of John Keats" shortly after his death, his friends were unable to cooperate on the endeavor and it was eventually scrapped. Published in 1848, 27 years after Keats's death, Richard Monckton Milnes's "Life, Letters, and Literary Remains, of John Keats" was the first biography dedicated solely to the great poet. With much material provided from Keats's close friend Charles Armitage Brown, the volume offers a fascinating glimpse into the poet's tragically brief life and one of the first looks at his personal correspondence. While Keats's letters did not receive much notice in the nineteenth century, they became greatly admired in the twentieth century, with the great modernist poet T.S. Eliot even observing that they were "certainly the most notable and most important [letters] ever written by any English poet."
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Albert appears Auranthe bear beauty become bring brother Brown called comes Conrad continually dear death delight effect Enter Erminia Ethelbert eyes face fair fear feel genius George Gersa give hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven honor hope hour human Hunt imagination interest Italy JOHN KEATS keep lady leave letter light lines literary live look Lord Ludolph mean mind morning nature never night noble once Otho pain pass perhaps person pleasure poem poet poetry poor present received remain Reynolds seems seen Sigifred Sonnet soon sort soul speak spirit sure sweet talk tell thee thing thou thought took truth turn walk whole wish write written wrote young
Page 74 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Page 84 - I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: // Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. // Near them, on the sand, / Half sunk, / a shattered visage lies, / whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, / Tell that its sculptor / well those passions read / Which yet survive, / stamped on these lifeless things, / The hand that mocked them, / and the heart that fed: // And on the pedestal / these words appear: // "My...
Page 78 - I think Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by Singularity — it should strike the Reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a Remembrance — 2nd.
Page 51 - I have never yet been able to perceive how any thing can be known for truth by consecutive reasoning — and yet it must be. Can it be that even the greatest philosopher ever arrived at his goal without putting aside numerous objections. However it may be, O for a Life of sensations rather than of thoughts ! It is 'a vision in the form of youth
Page 151 - I think I shall be among the English Poets after my death. Even as a Matter of present interest the attempt to crush me in the Quarterly has only brought me more into notice, and it is a common expression among book men, " I wonder the Quarterly should cut its own throat.
Page 69 - Dilke on various subjects; several things dove-tailed in my mind, and at once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason...
Page 95 - Or may I woo thee In earlier Sicilian ? or thy smiles Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles, By bards who died content on pleasant sward, Leaving great verse unto a little clan ? O, give me their old vigour, and unheard Save of the quiet Primrose, and the span Of heaven and few ears, Rounded by thee, my song should die away Content as theirs, Rich in the simple worship of a day.
Page 203 - I have given up Hyperion — there were too many Miltonic inversions in it — Miltonic verse cannot be written but in an artful, or, rather, artist's humour. I wish to give myself up to other sensations. English ought to be kept up.