shall say between Man and Woman which is the most delighted? Now it is more noble to sit like Jove than to fly like Mercury:--let us not therefore go hurrying about and collecting honey, bee-like, buzzing here and there impatiently from a knowledge of what is to be arrived at. But let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive; budding patiently under the eye of Apollo and taking hints from every noble insect that favours us with a visit--Sap will be given us for meat, and dew for drink. I was led into these thoughts, my dear Reynolds, by the beauty of the morning operating on a sense of Idleness. I have not read any Books--the Morning said I was right--I had no idea but of the Morning, and the Thrush said I was right--seeming to say, "O thou whose face hath felt the Winter's wind, Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in Mist, And the black Elmtops 'mong the freezing stars: To thee the Spring will be a harvest-time-- O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on Night after night, when Phoebus was away, To thee the Spring shall be a triple morn-- O fret not after knowledge--I have none, And yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge--I have none, And yet the Evening listens. He who saddens At thought of idleness cannot be idle, And he's awake who thinks himself asleep." Now I am sensible all this is a mere sophistication (however it may neighbour to any truths), to excuse my own indolence--So I will not deceive myself that Man should be equal with Jove--but think himself very well off as a sort of scullion-Mercury or even a humble-bee. It is no matter whether I am right or wrong either one way or another, if there is sufficient to lift a little time from your shoulders-- Your affectionate friend JOHN KEATS. XXXVIII.--TO GEORGE AND THOMAS KEATS. Hampstead, Saturday [February 21, 1818]. My dear Brothers--I am extremely sorry to have given you so much uneasiness by not writing; however, you know good news is no news or vice versa. I do not like to write a short letter to you, or you would have had one long before. The weather although boisterous to-day has been very much milder; and I think Devonshire is not the last place to receive a temperate Change. I have been abominably idle since you left, but have just turned over a new leaf, and used as a marker a letter of excuse to an invitation from Horace Smith. The occasion of my writing to-day is the enclosed letter--by Postmark from Miss W----[49] Does she expect you in town George? I received a letter the other day from Haydon, in which he says, his Essays on the Elgin Marbles are being translated into Italian, the which he superintends. I did not mention that I had seen the British Gallery, there are some nice things by Stark, and Bathsheba by Wilkie, which is condemned. I could not bear Alston's Uriel.