Do you know that volume of Keats containing Lamia, and Hyperion? If you do not, I wish I could persuade you to read it. It is another of my great favourites. Of Keats' other writings I know nothing. I fancy them too fantastical, too cockneyfied, pardon the ugly word; but Hyperion is truly excellent. There is a lonely grandeur about it that haunts me for days. It is masculine, severe, and simple, and belongs to the class of the old Greek tragedies.