of singular beauty and tenderness, na been preserved. per The Protestant cemetery in wh buried is on a grassy slope, amid the over ruins of the Honorian walls, surmounted pyramidal tomb which Petrarch ascri Remus, but which antiquarian truth has shown to have been erected to the memory of Caius Cestius, a tribune of the people, now utterly forgotten. There were at that time few other graves about it, but soon after the burying ground was enlarged, and of late years the portion of it where he lies was cut off by a wall forming part of the fortifications of the city. In time the little altar-tomb had been almost hidden in the high grass, and it was not until 1875 that General Sir Vincent Eyre, Miss Frere (daughter of the Right Hon. Sir H. Bartle Frere), Mr. Marsh the American minister, and other English and American lovers of the poet, repaired the then dilapidated stone, and placed in a conspicuous position on the adjacent wall a medallion portrait, the work and gift of Mr. Warrington Wood. A further subscription was raised at the same time for a bust of Keats by some eminent sculptor, to be placed in Westminster Abbey. The "Adonais" of Shelley remains the immortal literary monument of the life, work, and sorrows of John Keats. On the publication of the last volume, Shelley wrote a pathetic remonstrance tc the editor of the "Quarterly Review," which was not sent, and after Keats's death the sentiment changed to passionate indignation. It may be regretted that such authority (confirmed by the flippant but not ill-natured stanza in “Don Juan") was given to the belief that genius so real and character so strong should have succumbed to During thiar attacks of literary ignorance and Brawn were lignity; but the revelation of his and left bim ully demonstrates how little serious or mict they would have had on his mind and temif he had enjoyed ordinary health and had had -before him a fair field of fortune. George Keats died in 1841, at Louisville, in Kentucky, highly esteemed by his fellow-citizens for his intelligence and industry, and by his friends for his fine literary tastes, especially in knowledge and appreciation of the Elizabethan literature. His daughters were eminent for their beauty, and his sons occupy a good position in that now important and flourishing district of America. His sister Fanny married Señor Llanos, a Spanish gentleman, of liberal politics and much talent, the author of "Don Esteban," "Sandoval, the Freemason," and other spirited illustrations of the modern history of the Peninsula; he recently represented the Spanish Republic at the Court of Rome. Silvering the untainted gushes of its rill; Which round its marge reflected woven bowers, And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers. There the kingfisher saw his plumage bright, On the authority of the notes of Mr. Brown, given to me at Florence, in 1832, I have stated this to be the earliest known composition of Keats, and to have been written during his residence at Edmonton.-ED. B ! There saw the swan his neck of arched snow, Ah! could I tell the wonders of an isle And all around it dipp'd luxuriously Slopings of verdure through the glossy tide, Rippled delighted up the flowery side; 1812 TO SOME LADIES. HAT though, while the wonders of na. ture exploring, I cannot your light, mazy footsteps Nor listen to attend; accents, that almost adoring, Bless Cynthia's face, the enthusiast's friend Yet over the steep, whence the mountain-stream rushes, With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove; Mark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate gushes, Its spray, that the wild flower kindly bedews. Why linger ye so, the wild labyrinth strolling? Why breathless, unable your bliss to declare? Ah! you list to the nightingale's tender condoling, Responsive to sylphs, in the moon-beamy air. "Tis norn, and the flowers with dew are yet drooping, I see you are treading the verge of the sea: And now! ah, I see it-you just now are stooping To pick up the keepsake intended for me. If a cherub, on pinions of silver descending, And, smiles with his star-cheering voice sweetly blending, The blessings of Tighe had melodiously given, : It had not created a warmer emotion Than the present, fair nymphs, I was blest with from you; Than the shell, from the bright golden sands of the ocean, Which the emerald waves at your feet gladly threw. For, indeed, 'tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure |