poem by John Keats.

On October 9, 1818, just after the spiteful notices of himself in
_Blackwood_ and _The Quarterly_ had appeared, and had been replied to in
_The Morning Chronicle_ by two correspondents signing J. S. and R. B.,
Keats wrote as follows to his publisher Mr. Hessey; and to treat the
affair in a more self-possessed, measured, and dignified spirit, would
not have been possible:--

"You are very good in sending me the letters from _The
Chronicle_, and I am very bad in not acknowledging such a
kindness sooner; pray forgive me. It has so chanced that I have
had that paper every day. I have seen to-day's. I cannot but feel
indebted to those gentlemen who have taken my part. As for the
rest, I begin to get a little acquainted with my own strength and
weakness. Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man
whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on
his own works. My own domestic criticism has given me pain
without comparison beyond what _Blackwood_ or _The Quarterly_
could possibly inflict; and also, when I feel I am right, no
external praise can give me such a glow as my own solitary
reperception and ratification of what is fine. J. S. is perfectly
right in regard to the 'slipshod "Endymion."'[15] That it is so
is no fault of mine. No; though it may sound a little
paradoxical, it is as good as I had power to make it by myself.
Had I been nervous about its being a perfect piece, and with that
view asked advice, and trembled over every page, it would not
have been written, for it is not in my nature to fumble. I will
write independently. I have written independently, _without
judgment_: I may write independently, and _with judgment_,
hereafter. The genius of poetry must work out its own salvation
in a man. It cannot be matured by law and precept, but by
sensation and watchfulness in itself. That which is creative must
create itself. In 'Endymion' I leaped headlong into the sea, and
thereby have become better acquainted with the soundings, the
quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green
shore and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable
advice. I was never afraid of failure, for I would sooner fail
than not be among the greatest. But I am nigh getting into a
rant; so, with remembrances to Taylor and Woodhouse, &c., I am
yours very sincerely,

"John Kea