_To the Editor._
Sir,--The anecdote of Keats, which appeared in a late number of your
_Table Book_,[356] recalled his image to my “mind’s eye” as vividly,
through the tear of regret, as the long-buried pictures on the walls of
Pompeii appear when water is thrown over them; and I turned to reperuse
the written record of my feelings, at hearing him spoken of a few months
since. These lines I trouble you with, thinking they may gratify the
feelings of some one of his friends, and trusting their homeliness may
be pardoned for the sake of the feeling which dictated them.
I should also be glad of this opportunity to express the wishes of many
of his admirers for a portrait of Keats. There are two in existence;
one, a spirited profile sketch by Haydon; the other, a beautiful
miniature by his friend Severn; but neither have been engraved. Mr.
Severn’s return to England will probably produce some memorial of his
“span of life,” and a more satisfactory account of his last moments than
can be gleaned from report. The opportunity that would thus be afforded
of giving to the world the posthumous remains of his genius, will, it is
to be hoped, not be neglected. Such a volume would be incomplete without
a portrait; which, if seen by the most prejudiced of his literary
opponents, would turn the laugh of contempt into a look of thoughtful
regret. Hoping my rhymes will not frustrate my wishes, I remain, sir,
Your obliged correspondent,
and humble servant,