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KEA Keating fled to the fastnesses of the Galtie mountains, where he remained till the president withdrew from the province. The years of his seclusion he occupied in composing his history of Ireland in the Irish language, the materials of which he had been for many years collecting. When the work was complete several careful transcripts of it were made, one of which is still preserved in the library of Trinity college, Dublin, and others elsewhere. In 1739 appeared the first English translation by Dermod O'Connor. Since then there have been various others. The last edition was published by Duffy in 1840. As a historian Keating has too freely adopted traditions and legends, but he did good service in correcting the errors of his predecessors. He was a poet as well as an annalist, and has left several popular compositions, which are mentioned by O'Reilly. A prose treatise, "The three Shafts of Death," is much admired by Irish scholars. He died in 1650.—J. F. W.  KEATS,, poet, was born in Moorfields on the 29th of October, 1795. He was sent to school at Enfield, under the father of Mr. Cowden Clarke. In early youth he appears to have been strong and healthy, the insidious disease which cut him off in his prime having then made no sign. As a lad he was studious, diversifying his reading of the Latin poets by the perusal of Shakspeare and Spenser, for the latter of whom he early entertained a high admiration. Greek he is said to have taught himself later in life. His apprenticeship to a surgeon was a choice of profession uncongenial to a mind so sensitive and delicate; and it is not a matter for surprise that he early exchanged the scalpel for the pen. His juvenile poetic essays attracted the notice of Leigh Hunt, who was mainly instrumental in introducing him to public notice. A small volume of verses appearing in 1817, and falling still born, was shortly followed by the publication of "Endymion." This was severely, nay, savagely handled by the Quarterly, less perhaps on account of its faults—which, it must be confessed, were not few—than because of the poet's connection with Hunt, the impersonation and martyr-by-proxy of a party peculiarly obnoxious to the Review in question. This virulent attack, according to some authorities, embittered the life and hastened the death of Keats; and the evidence of Byron and Shelley gave weight to this assertion. There is little doubt that Keats, inordinately praised and inordinately blamed by his friends and enemies, respectively, never had the advantage of impartial judgment or considerate criticism. Yet there is to be seen in his letters a spirit of self-examination so searching and modest, as scarcely to bear out the assertion of Shelley that the Quarterly notice rendered him almost insane, and arguing anything but that morbid vanity which alone could have thus intensified his suffering under an attack so obviously unfair and coarse. But even had his feelings been as acute as they have been described, the sensitiveness was more probably the result than the cause of disease—the ripening of the fruit, rather than the germinating of the seed. It must be remembered that he impaired his own health by the unremitting care he bestowed on a brother, who died of the same disease—consumption. In t he year of that brother's death, he met with a lady who inspired him with a passion that only ceased with his life, and by its intensity, added to the anxiety arising from the pressure of pecuniary embarrassment, may not improbably have aggravated his illness. His third volume of poems, containing "Hyperion," was given to the world in 1820, and was better received than its predecessor. The kindly yet just words of Jeffrey in the Edinburgh, must have been a consoling guarantee to the young poet that his belief in his own genius would be endorsed by coming ages. But for all other purposes—whether to inspire with confidence, to urge to greater study and care, or to stimulate to fresh effort—they came too late. One night as he was getting into bed he spat blood. His professional knowledge at once revealed to him the progress of consumption—"It is arterial blood—that drop is my death-warrant." Nevertheless toward spring he rallied, but only to sink again at the close of the year. For a few weeks he was tended by her for whom alone he cared to retain life; then it was necessary to try the climate of Italy, as a last resource. His friend Severn the artist, sacrificing professional prospects for his friend, a fact honourable to both, devoted himself to Keats. They went first to Naples, then to Rome. Here after some weeks of intense agony, which at times clouded his mind with the violence of delirium, Keats grew composed and peaceful. But the calm was that of dissolution. On the 27th of February, 1821, he passed away as if in a sleep, his last murmur being, "Thank God it has come!" Mere existence had latterly become such anguish, that he had watched his physician's face for the fatal announcement as eagerly as some invalids do for the hope of a brief reprieve. He was buried in the protestant cemetery at Rome, "an open space among the ruins covered in winter with violets and daisies," those daisies of which he said so touchingly, in his last moments, that he could "feel them growing over him." Shelley adds, "It might make one in love with death to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place." It is worthy of note that not far from the spot where Keats reposes under the inscription chosen by himself—"Here lies one whose name was writ on water"—a stone with the brief epitaph, "Cor Cordium," marks where the heart of Shelley is at rest for ever. Keats' face was one of almost feminine beauty, marred slightly by too heavy a mouth. His disposition was manly and noble, but too earnest and ardent for his well-being. His poetry was lavishly rich, abounding in luxuriant images and glowing language. The chiming of a rhyme too often seemed to have been enough to lead to the introduction of images already too profuse from the prodigality of his fancy, and hence his poetry is rather acceptable to poets than to ordinary readers, whose minds cannot, or do not care to essay, following the flight of his genius. His imagination and powers of description are unrivalled, when we consider his age; for he far surpassed White, and perhaps even Chatterton—the two poets whose short yet brilliant careers most nearly resemble his.—T. H.  KEATS,, a distinguished admiral, born in 1757 at Chalton in Hampshire. He entered the navy at the age of thirteen, and served for some years on the Halifax station under Admiral Montague. In 1777 he was lieutenant in the Ramilies, but soon removed on board the Prince George, where for upwards of three years he was officer of the watch in which Prince William Henry, afterwards William IV., was placed. Having greatly distinguished himself at Gibraltar and in America, he was promoted in 1789 to the rank of commander. In 1794 he was appointed to the Galatea, 32, in which he accompanied the unfortunate expedition to Quiberon, and rendered important services. In 1796 he burned the French frigate Andromache, off the mouth of the Gironde, and afterwards, in command of the Boadicea, a 38-gun frigate, he captured a great number of French privateers, including the Zephire, the Railleur, the Invincible Bonaparte, and the Milan. In March, 1801, he was appointed to the Superb, 74, with which on the 12th July, having got in advance of the rest of the fleet under Sir J. Saumarez, he encountered single-handed three Spanish ships of the line, two of which, the Real Carlos and the San Hermenegildo, blew up, and the third, the flag-ship San Antonio, 74, struck its colours. He afterwards accompanied to the West Indies the squadron commanded by Sir J. Duckworth, and when the French fleet was discovered at St. Domingo on the 6th of February, 1806, the Superb commenced the action by attacking and capturing the Alexandre, 84. Captain Keats had then the audacity to engage with the Imperial, 120, the finest and strongest ship of war then afloat, and the two vessels were at close quarters when the Northumberland, commanded by the celebrated Lord Cochrane, gallantly dashed in between them and received the broadside of the Frenchman. The action then became general, and resulted in the complete discomfiture of the French fleet. For his distinguished part in this affair the committee of the patriotic fund voted a sword of honour to Captain Keats; and he received, with his brother officers, the thanks of parliament. In October, 1807, he was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral, and on the 10th of May in the following year he sailed from Yarmouth Roads with the expedition of Sir John Moore for Sweden. He was then employed in transporting back from Denmark a Spanish army of ten thousand men under the Marquis De la Romana, and for his services on that occasion was created a knight of the bath. In May, 1809, he was appointed second in command of the large armament which was sent, with most disastrous results, to attack the French naval force in the Scheldt. In 1811 he hoisted his flag in the Hibernia as vice-admiral, and second in command of the Mediterranean fleet. In 1813 he was made commander-in-chief and governor of Newfoundland, and after discharging the duties of that position for three years, he returned to England and married the eldest daughter of Sir Francis Hurt. In 1818 he succeeded Sir George Hope as major-general of the royal marines, and in 1821 was made governor of Greenwich hospital, where 