"Eftsoones her shallow ship away did slide, More swift than swallow sheres the liquid skye; Withouten oare or pilot it to guide, Or winged canvas with the wind to fly." The run here is on _a_ and _i_; principally on _i_, which occurs five times in its open, and ten times in its closed, sound in the four lines,--if we are indeed to reckon as one vowel these two unlike sounds denoted by the same sign. Keats was a close and conscious student of the musical effects of verse, and the practice of Spenser is said to have suggested to him a special theory as to the use and value of the iteration of vowel sounds in poetry. What his theory was we are not clearly told, neither do I think it can easily be discovered from his practice; though every one must feel a great beauty of his verse to be in the richness of the vowel and diphthong sequences. He often spoke of the subject, and once maintained his view against Wordsworth when the latter seemed to be advocating a mechanical principle of vowel variation. Hear, next how the joys of brotherly affection, of poetry, and of nature, come naively jostling one another in the _Epistle_ addressed from the sea-side to his brother George:-- "As to my sonnets, though none else should heed them I feel delighted, still, that you should read them. Of late, too, I have had much calm enjoyment, Stretch'd on the grass at my best loved employment Of scribbling lines for you. These things I thought While, in my face, the freshest breeze I caught. E'en now I am pillow'd on a bed of flowers That crowns a lofty cliff, which proudly towers Above the ocean waves. The stalks and blades Chequer my tablet with their quivering shades. On one side is a field of drooping oats, Through which the poppies show their scarlet coats; So pert and useless that they bring to mind The scarlet coats that pester human kind. And on the other side, outspread is seen Ocean's blue mantle, streak'd with purple and green. Now 'tis I see a canvass'd ship, and now Mark the bright silver curling round her brow; I see the lark down-dropping to his nest, And the broad wing'd sea-gull never at rest; For when no more he spreads his feathers free, His breast is dancing on the restless sea."