is we believe, the youngest of them all, and just of age. His name is John Keats. He has not yet published anything except in a newspaper, but a set of his manuscripts was handed us the other day, and fairly surprised us with the truth of their ambition, and ardent grappling with Nature." In _Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries_, the last line of the same sonnet-- "Silent upon a peak in Darien"-- is called "a basis of gigantic tranquillity."[149] Leigh Hunt's review of the _Poems_ of 1817[150] was kind and discriminating. He writes characteristically of the first poem, _I stood tiptoe_, that it "consists of a piece of luxury in a rural spot"; of the epistles and sonnets, that they "contain strong evidences of warm and social feelings." This comment is quite characteristic of Hunt. He was as fond of finding "warm and social feelings" in the poetry of others as of putting them into his own. In his anxiety he sometimes found them when they did not exist. He continues: "The best poem is certainly the last and the longest, entitled _Sleep and Poetry_. It originated in sleeping in a room adorned with busts and pictures [Hunt's library], and is a striking specimen of the restlessness of the young poetical appetite, obtaining its food by the very desire of it, and glancing for fit subjects of creation 'from earth to heaven.' Nor do we like it the less for an impatient, and as it may be thought by some irreverend [sic] assault upon the late French school of criticism[151] and monotony." But Hunt did not allow his affection for Keats or his approval of Keats's poetical doctrine to blunt his critical acumen. In summarizing he says: "The very faults of Mr. Keats arise from a passion for beauties, and a young impatience to vindicate them; and as we have mentioned these, we shall refer to them at once. They may be comprised in two;--first, a tendency to notice everything too indiscriminately, and without an eye to natural proportion and effect; and second, a sense of the proper variety of versification without a due consideration of its principles." In conclusion, the beauties "outnumber the faults a hundred fold" and "they are of a nature decidedly opposed to what is false and inharmonious. Their characteristics indeed are a fine ear, a fancy and imagination at will, and an intense feeling of external beauty in its most natural and least inexpressible simplicity." Hunt was disappointed with _Endymion_ and did not hesitate to say so. Keats writes to his brothers: