May God bless you, my very dear friend.  I drink thoughts of you in Cyprus every day.

Your ever affectionate
ELIBET.

There is no review in the ‘Examiner’ yet, nor any continuation in the
’Athenaeum.’[111]

[Footnote 111:  The Athenaeum had reserved the two longer poems, the ‘Drama of Exile’ and the ‘Vision of Poets,’ for possible notice in a second article, which, however, never appeared.]

To Mrs. Martin September 10, 1844.

My dearest Mrs. Martin,—­I will not lose a post in assuring you that I was not silent because of any disappointment from your previous letter.  I could only feel the kindness of that letter, and this was certainly the chief and uppermost feeling at the time of reading it, and since.  Your preference of ‘The Seraphim’ one other person besides yourself has acknowledged to me in the same manner, and although I myself—­perhaps from the natural leaning to last works, and perhaps from a wise recognition of the complete failure of the poem called ’The Seraphim ’—­do disagree with you, yet I can easily forgive you for such a thought, and believe that you see sufficient grounds for entertaining it.  More and more I congratulate myself (at any rate) for the decision I came to at the last moment, and in the face of some persuasions, to call the book ‘Poems,’ instead of trusting its responsibility to the ‘Drama,’ by such a title as ’A Drama of Exile, and Poems.’  It is plain, as I anticipated, that for one person who is ever so little pleased with the ‘Drama,’ fifty at least will like the smaller poems.  And perhaps they are right.  The longer sustaining of a subject requires, of course, more power, and I may have failed in it altogether.

Yes, I think I may say that I am satisfied so far with the aspect of things in relation to the book.  You see there has scarcely been time yet to give any except a sanguine or despondent judgment—­I mean, there is scarcely room yet for forming a very rational inference of what will ultimately be, without the presentiments of hope or fear.  The book came out too late in August for any chance of a mention in the September magazines, and at the dead time of year, when the very critics were thinking more of holiday innocence than of their carnivorous instincts.  This will not hurt it ultimately, although it might have hurt a novel.  The regular critics will come back to it; and in the meantime the newspaper critics are noticing it all round, with more or less admissions to its advantage.  The ‘Atlas’ is the best of the newspapers for literary notices; and it spoke graciously on the whole; though I do protest against being violently attached to a ‘school.’  I have faults enough, I know; but it is just to say that they are at least my own.  Well, then!  It is true that the ’Westminster Review’ says briefly what is great praise, and promises to take the earliest opportunity of reviewing me ‘at large.’  So that with regard to the critics,