say, and I may be asked--_why endeavour after a long Poem?_ To which I should answer, Do not the Lovers of Poetry like to have a little Region to wander in, where they may pick and choose, and in which the images are so numerous that many are forgotten and found new in a second Reading: which may be food for a Week's stroll in the Summer? Do not they like this better than what they can read through before Mrs. Williams comes down stairs? a Morning work at most. "Besides, a long poem is a test of invention, which I take to be the Polar star of Poetry, as Fancy is the Sails--and Imagination the rudder. Did our great Poets ever write short Pieces? I mean in the shape of Tales--this same invention seems indeed of late years to have been forgotten as a Poetical excellence--But enough of this, I put on no Laurels till I shall have finished Endymion, and I hope Apollo is not angered at my having made a Mockery at him at Hunt's"---- You see, Bailey, how independent my Writing has been. Hunt's dissuasion was of no avail--I refused to visit Shelley that I might have my own unfettered scope;--and after all, I shall have the Reputation of Hunt's eleve. His corrections and amputations will by the knowing ones be traced in the Poem. This is, to be sure, the vexation of a day, nor would I say so many words about it to any but those whom I know to have my welfare and reputation at heart. Haydon promised to give directions for those Casts, and you may expect to see them soon, with as many Letters--You will soon hear the dinning of Bells--never mind! you and Gleig[29] will defy the foul fiend--But do not sacrifice your health to Books: do take it kindly and not so voraciously. I am certain if you are your own Physician, your Stomach will resume its proper strength and then what great benefits will follow.--My sister wrote a Letter to me, which I think must be at the post-office--Ax Will to see. My Brother's kindest remembrances to you--we are going to dine at Brown's where I have some hopes of meeting Reynolds. The little Mercury I have taken has corrected the poison and improved my health--though I feel from my employment that I shall never be again secure in Robustness. Would that you were as well as Your Sincere friend and brother JOHN KEATS. XIX.--TO BENJAMIN BAILEY. [Hampstead: about November 1, 1817.]