John Keats Given From His Own Editions and Other Authentic ...

THE POETI CAL WORKS

J O H N KEAT S

G IVEN FROM H I S OWN ED IT ION S AND OTHER AUTH ENTI C SOURCESAND COLLATED W I TH MANY MANUSCRIPT S

ED lTED WITH NOTES AND APPENDICES

BY H . BUXTO N FO RMAN

COMPLE TE ED I TI ON

D . E . Faéeyfii D .

NEW YORK

TH OMAS Y . CROWELL CO ,

PUBL I SH ERS

CONTENTS .

PAG E

B IOGRAPH ICAL SKETCH . Na than H aske l l D o le

POEMS [publ ished m 1 8 1 7 ]Editor’s Note before Poems of 1 8 1 7D edication . To Le igh H unt, Esq.

AdvertisementI stood tip

-toe upon a l itt le h il lSpec imen of an I nduct ion to a Poem

Calidore . A Fragment

To Some Lad iesOn rece iving a curious Shel l, and a Copy of Verses, from the same

Lad iesTo H adst thou l iw u days

o

of old

To H opeIm itat ion of Spenser

Woman ! when I beho ld thee fiippant , va inEpist les

To George Fe l ton MathewTo my Brother GeorgeTo Charles Cowden Clarke

Sonne ts

I . To my Brother GeorgeI I To a:

III . Written on the day that Mr. Le igh Hunt left Pr isonIV. H ow many bards g i ld the lapses of tim e !

V. To a Friend who sent m e som e Roses

VI . To G . A .W. [Georg iana Augusta Wyl ie]VII . O Sol itude ! if I must with thee dwe l l ”VIII . To my BrothersIX.

“ Keen, fitful gusts are wh isp’ring here and there

“ To one who has been long 1 n c ity pent ”X I . On first looking irito Chapman

’s H om er

XII . On leaving some Friends a t an early H our

XIII . Addressed to H aydonXIV. Addressed to the same

XV. On the Grasshopper and Cricke tXVI . To KosciuskoXVII . H appy I S England !J Sleep and Poe try

1v CONTENTS.

J PAGE

ENDYM ION : A Poetic Romance

Editor’s Note before Endym ionPreface by KeatsOrig inal Preface , rej ected 1 n favour of the foregoingRejected Tit le and D ed icat ionBook IBook I I

JBook I I IBook I V

LAM IA , I SABELLA , &c . [publ ished m 1 820]Advert isement

Contents

Editor’s Note be fore Lam ia , I sabe lla, &c .

Editor’s Note before Lam iaLam ia . Part ILamia. Part I IEditor’s Note before I sabe l laI sabe l la ; or, the Plot of Bas i l . A Story from Bocca cc ioEditor’s No te before The Eve of St. Agnes

! The Eve of St . Agnes

«LOde to a Nigh tinga le4 ~ Ode on a Grecian Urn! Ode to Psyche

FancyOde Bards of Passion and

.

o f M irthLines on the Merm a id TavernRobin H ood. To a FriendTo Autumn

Ode on Me lancho l yNo te be fore H ype rionn. Book I1 1 . Book I In . Book I I I

H YPERI ON , A VIS ION . a ttempted Reconstruct ion of the Poem

Editor’s Note before H yperion, a VisionH yperion, a Vis ion. Canto IH ype rion, a Vision . Canto I I

POS’

I‘

H UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEM SEd itor’s Note before the Posthumous and Fug itive PoemsOn D eathSonnet to ByronSonnet to ChattertonSonne t to Spenser

Ode to Apo l loH ymn to Apol loSonne t As from the darkenmg g loomStanzas to M iss Wy l ieSonne t Oh how I love , on a fa ir summer

’s eve

Sonne t to a Young Lady who sent me a Laure l Crown

CONTENTS.

PAG E

POSTHUMOUS AND Fucm vn POEMS, continued.

Sonnet written in D isgust of Vu lgar Supersti tionSonnet After dark vapors have oppre ss

’d our pla ins J

Sonnet wr itten on a B lank Space at the end of Chaucer’s Ta le ofThe Floure and the Lefe

f onnet to H aydon with the follow ingSonne t on see ing the E lgin MarblesSonnet on a Picture of Leander

To Th ink not of it, sweet one , so ;Lines [ “ Unfe lt, unheard, unseen,

”

JSonnet on the Sea

Sonne t on Leigh H unt’s Poem The Story ofRim ini

Fragm ent Where ’s the Poet ? ”JFragment . Modern LoveFragment of The Castle BuilderFragment We lcome Joy, and welcome sorrow

, JSonnet When I have fears that I m ay cease to b e ”

JSonnet to H om er

A Draugh t of Sunsh ine H ence Burgundy, Claret, and Port ”JFaery Song Sh ed no tear—O shed no tear !

”

JFaery Song Ah ! woe is m e ! poor s ilver-wing ! ”JSong Sp irit here tha t re ignest ! ” JStanzas I n a drear nigh ted D ecember,”JSonne t . The H uman Seasons

Lines on see ing a Lock of M i l ton’s H a ir

J Sonne t on sitting down to read King Lear once aga inSonnet to the N i leWhat the Thrush sa id . Lines from a Le tter to John H ami ltonReyno lds

Sonnet [“ Blue !

’Tis the l ife of heaven JSonnet to John H am i lton ReynoldsTeignmouth' : Some D oggerel, sent in a Le tter to B. R . H aydon

The D evonMa id . Stanzas sent m a Le tter to B . R. H aydonEpist le to John H am i lton ReynoldsD awl ish Fa irFragment of an Ode to Ma ia, written on May D ay 1 8 1 8Song H ush , hush ! tread softly ! ” JExtracts from an Opera

0 ! were I one of the Olympian twelve,D aisy’5 Song .

Fol l y’3 SongSong [

“ The Stranger lighted from his steed ”JAs leep ! O s leep a l i tt le wh ile, wh ite pearl !

Sharing Eve’s AppleSong I had a dove and the sweet dove died ; ”

JSonnet to a Lady seen for a few Moments a t VauxhallAcrostic : Georg iana Augusta Kea tsSonnet on visiting the Tomb of Burns

vi CONTEN TS.

PAGE

POSTHUMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS, continued.

Meg Merrilies

A Song about Mysel fSonne t to A i lsa RockSonne t written in the Cottage where Burns was bornLines written in the H ighlands after a v is it to Burns’5 CountryThe GadflySonnet on hearing the Bag p1pe and seemg The Stranger played atInveraryStaffa

Sonnet wr itten upon the Top of Ben NevisA Prophecy . to George Keats ln Am er icaTrans la t ion from a Sonne t of Ronsard .

Spenserian Stanza written a t the C lose of Canto I I , BookV, of The

Faerie QueeneThe Eve of Saint Mark . a Fragment

Ode to FannyOde on Indo lenceSonne t Why did I laugh to night ? ” JSonnet . a Dream ,

a fter reading D ante’s Ep isode of Paulo and

Francesca

Spenserian Stanzas on Charles Arm itage BrownSonnet I f by dull rhymes

”

JSong Of Four Faer iesTwo Sonnets on Fame

Sonnet to S leepA Party of Lovers .

Sonne t The day 1 5 gone JLines to FannySonne t to FannySonne t to George Keats . written in Sickness

“I ” La Be l le D am e sans Merc iSonnet writ ten on a B lank Page of Shakespeare 3 Poems, fac ingA Lover’s Comp laint

OTHO TH E GREAT : a Tragedy, in Five ActsEditor’s No te before Otho the GreatD ramatis PersonaeAct IAct I IAct I I IAct I V

Act V

KING STEPHEN . a D rainatic.

Fragm ent

Editor’s Note before King StephenKing StephenTH E CAP AND BELLS ; OR, TH E J EALOUS IES : a Faery Tale

unfin ishedEditor’s Note before the Cap and Bells

The Cap and Bells 9 9 9

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BIOGRAPH ICAL SKETCH .

OHN KEATS was born October 3 1 , 1 7 9 5, at the stable designated by thesign of the Swan-and-H oop, Finsbury Pavement, Moorfields , oppositewhat is now Finsbury Circus and the London Inst i tution.

H is father, Thomas Keats, came to London from D evon or Land’s End in

Cornwal l . H e was a young man of sma ll sta ture , with brownhair and haze leyes, g iving an impress ion of l ive l iness and energy. H e was remarkable forhis common sense and natura l instincts of refinement. H e became headhostler for John Jennings , a man of some means and of unusual genero si ty,and married his daughter Frances, who is describ ed as

“tal l

,of good figure,

with large oval face, and sensible deportment .” I t is the tradition tha t shewas l ive ly, impulsive, unusua l ly ta lented, and inordina te ly fond of amusements.

Indeed, the premature birth of her e ldest son is commonly ascribed to her imprudent indulgences .

The oth er ch i ldren wereGeorge, February 28, 1 7 9 7 ; he came to America and died in 1 84 1 .

Tom , November 1 8, 1 7 9 9 ; he died D ecember, 1 8 1 8.

Edward, who diedl

in infancy, in 1 80 1 .

Frances Mary, June 3, 1 803, who married Seiior Llanos and was sti ll l ivingin Spa in in 1 889 .

Keats’s father was k i l led by a fa l l from his horse in the spring of 1 804 .

Less th an a year later his mother married Wil l iam Rawl ings, a stable-keeper.

But the second marriage proved unhappy . Mrs . Rawl ings went to l ive a t

Edmonton w ith her mother, who had a lso just been left a widow. John J ennings

’s fortune was about and m ight have been more had he not

been accord ing to George Keats extremely generous and gul l ible .

Even before these change s the boys had been sent to the pr iva te school ofthe Rev. John Clarke at Enfield. The ir education was sti ll continued there .

When the school-house was removed years afterwards to make room for a railway stat ion , the facade, decorated wi th garlands of flowers and pomegranates,

together with beads of cherubim ,

” was purchased for the South KensingtonMuseum ,

a s a characteristic example of early Georgian arch itecture . The

school -room was forty feet long ; there was a spacious playground, a gardenbeyond the court-yard

, a sweep of lawn w i th a pond, and a two-acre fie ld.

& John Keats a t first showed no exceptiona l talent, but was distinguished principal ly for his pugnacious dispos ition. H is qu ick temper was continual ly involving him in quarre ls . H e often fought fiercely even with his favorite brotherGeorge, who says in his recol lections :

X B I OGRAPH I CAL SKETCH.

From'

the time we were boys a t school , where we loved, jangled, and

fought al ternate l y until we were separa ted in 1 8 1 8, I in a great measure

rel ieved him ,by continual sympathy, explanat ion, and inexhaust ib le spiri ts and

good humor , from many a bitter fit of hypochondr iasm . H e avo ided teaz inganyone with his m iseries butTom and myself, and often asked our forgiveness ;vent ing and discuss ing them gave him re l ief.”One of Keats’s schoolmates, Edwa rd H o lmes, remembered that Keats “ wouldfight any one, morning, noon, and night.” H e chose his friends according tothe ir successful pugnacity . A m aternal unc l e remarkable for his sta ture and

distinguished for his gal lantry at the famous naval battle offCamperdown seems

to have been his idea l . Yet his vivacity, generosity, bravery, and extraordi

nary beauty of person and expression rendered him a favori te in the school .Charles Cowden C1arke , the son of the schoolmaster, te lls how 01 1 one occas ionan usher boxed his brother Tom ’

s ears. John in ungovernable rage rushed upand actua l ly struck the ush er . Clarke adds : H e was not m ere ly the favoriteo f a l l, l ike a pet prize-fighter, for his terrier courage ; but his highmindedness,his utter unconsciousness of a mean motive

, his placab i l ity, his generosity,wrought so general a fee l ing in his beha l f that I never heard a word of dis

approva l from any one , superior or equa l , who had known him .

”

‘1 Of his home l ife a lmost nothing is known . On page 408 of the present

vo lume there is a bit of doggerel ve rse wh ich is sa id to be autobiograph ic . I t

simp l y m eans he was fond of pe ts . Toward the end of his school course Keatssuddenl y deve loped a great pas sion for read ing . H e pored over Lempriere’sClass ica l D ictionary ,” Tooke ’s Pantheon,” and Tinda l’s school abridgment

of Spence’s Polym etis .

” H e devoured al l the books of h istory , trave l , andfiction that he cou ld find or borrow. Burnet

’s H istory of his Own Time and

Le igh H unt’s Ex aminer no doubt ,” says Charles Cowden Clarke , “ la id the

foundation for his love of c ivil and re l igious l iberty .

” H e made no progress in

Greek , but in Latin he wrote out a prose translation of most of the z’Eneid .

”

H e obta ined a fair reading-knowledge of French . Probably a t th is time he

read some of Shakespeare .

Keats’s mother had been for some time in fa iling health . H e was assiduousin his devotion to her , sitt ing up who le nights wi th her and al lowing no one

e lse to give her medicine or cook her food. There had a lways been a

pecul iar ly strong affect ion be tween them , and a sem i-legendary story is to ld of

his having a t five taken an old sword and sta t ioned h imse lf before her door during an i l lne ss, so that no one should go in to d isturb her . She died of con

sumption in February, 1 8 1 0, and Keats is sa id to have given way to such impassioned and pro longed gr ief (hiding h imself in a nook under the master

’s

desk ) as awakened the l ive l iest pity and sympa thy in a ll who saw him .

”

At the c lose of the same year he wa s withdrawn from school by his guard ianMr . Richard Abbey and apprenticed with a premium of £21 0 to an

Edmonton surgeon named H ammond.

One t ime as wi th head sunk in a brown study he was holding H ammond’s

horse in front of Clarke’s school , a sma l l boy named H orne (afterwards we l l

B I OGRAPHI CAL SKETCH. x 1

known as the author of Orion ”

) threw a snowba ll a t him . The other boysexpected a l ive ly skirmish , but H orne took to his h eels and got off scot free

Th is is the only picture of him in that capac i ty, s ays Sidney Colvin, whoquotes the anecdote on the authority Of Edmund Gosse .

But during his brief apprenticesh ip, uneventful as it seemed, there was one

door opened in his l ife wh ich probably conditioned its fame . H e was in the

habit of walk ing over to Enfiel d once a week to read and talk with CowdenClarke . Some t ime ear ly in 1 8 1 2 Clarke le t him take a copy of Spenser

’s

“ Faerie Queene ,” and he says : H e romped through the scenes of the ro

mance , l ike a young horse turned into a Spr ing m eadow.

” When any fe l ic itous adjective or phrase a ttracted his a ttention he would ho ist h imse lf up and

look burly and dominant,” say ing (for instance) , “Wha t an image that issea-shouldering whales .

” H owmany dormantwings of gen ius has no t Spenser,“ the poet

’s poet, quickened to soar ! Charles Brown , Keats’s most int imate

friend, says :I n Spenser

’s fa i ry land he was enchanted, breathed in a new world, and

became another be ing ; til l , enamoured of the stanza , he attempted to im itateit,and succeeded . This account of the sudden deve lopment of his poe tic

powers I first received from his brothers, and a fterwards from h imse lf.” On

page 26 wi ll b e found these stanzas, wh ich if not espec ia l ly Spenser ian in styleare certa inly interesting from a b iograph ica l point of v iew. Sonnets and otherforms of verse fol lowed, but he showed them to no one for several years

, not

unti l the spring of 1 8 1 5, when het im idly made his fr iend Clarke his confidant.Meantime

,he was beginning to find surgery and his secret worsh ip of the

LMuses incompa t ible . Som etime in 1 8 1 4 , more than a year before the expiration of his apprent icesh ip , he quitted Mr . H ammond, who al lowed the indentures to be cance l led . No one knows e ither the exact t ime or the cause, and the

proof of any quarrel rests upon an en igmatical phrase of a l e tter , the correct

ness of wh ich is in dispute . Keats h imself denied that b e abandoned surgery 7in favor of poe try.H e did not immediate l y abandon it. H e continued his studies a t St.

Thom as’s H ospital , and in July, 1 8 1 5, passed his exam ination a t Apothecar ies'

H a l l, and the fo l lowing March wa s appointed a dresser a t Guy’s H ospital fe

H e often scribbled doggerel verses in his fe llow-students’ note -books, but inhis own he seem s to have confined h imse lf to taking fu ll no tes . Mr . Co lv inremarks, as the only signs of a wandering m ind, ” qui te prett ily touched ”

sketches of pans ies and other flowers, decorat ing the margins of one manu

script note-book . The real reason for abandoning the practice of surgeryseems to have been his lack of confidence in h imse lf. When Cowden Clarkeonce asked him about his stud ies a t the hospita l , he repl ied : The other day,for instance , dur ing the lecture , there came a sunbeam into the room, and

with it a whole troop of creatures floating in the ray, and I was ofl'

with themto Oberon and fa iry land.

”

H is last Operation was the opening of a m an’s tempora l artery. H e told

Brown tha t he did it “ with the utmost nice ty, ” but his dexter ity se emed a

miracle and he never dared l ift the scalpel aga in .

xii B I OGRAPH I CAL SKETCH.

Cowden Clarke about the beginning of 1 8 1 6 settled in London, and the firstbook wh ich the two friends a ttacked together was Chapman

’

s H omer .

”

Keats’s first great sonne t was struck off a t a heat. C larke found it at the breakfast table after they had spent a long evening over the trans lat ion .

Through Clarke, Keats was introduced to Le igh H unt,who, by his fasci

nation Of person and manner, exercised an influence over far greater men thanh imself— an influence d isproportionate to his genius and certa inly in manyrespects harmful . Not a l itt le of the weakness of Keats ’s ear l ier e fforts maybe traced to th is consc ious or unconscious im itation of H unt

’

s mannerisms .

Moreover, H unt was posing as a martyr of l ibera lism , and the Tory hatredwh ich he so a iri ly courted was not s low to strike a lso a t his friends . The

venom characterizing the savage cr iticismswhich condemned Keats’s publ ishedworks was dist i l led from pol it ica l fangs .

Keats and H unt we re congenia l spirits , especial ly in the ir tas tes for books ,na ture , and Greek antiquity . “ The Lov’

d Libertas was Kea ts’s poet ic name

for H unt . They spent much time toge ther in the Va le of H ea lth ” wh ereH unt

’s cottage was situated ; there are h ints of the friendsh ip in many poems

exchanged. Once Kea ts presented H unt wi th a crown of ivy ; and was in

turn rewarded with a round of sonne ts . Occasionally they would cha ll engeeach o ther to rivalry on some chosen theme

,as

,for ins tance : sonne ts on the

grasshopper and fcricket. Cowden Clarke spoke with warm th of H unt’s

unaffected generosity and perfect ly unpretentious encouragement .”

Among Keats’s other int imate acqua intances were John H am i l ton Reynolds ,a now forgotten poet whose sister Jane marr ied Tom H ood, Benjam in R.

H aydon the artist, who painted Keats’s head into his p icture of Chr is t’s entryinto Jerusa lem, Char les O l l ier the publ isher, Char les W. D i lke , afterwardseditor of Tlie Atlzena um , and She ll ey. Perhaps next to H unt H aydon hadthe strongest influence over Keats . Colvin speaks of his “ indom itable , h ighflam ing energy and industry, his strenuous self-reliance, his e loquence , vehem ence, and social gifts, the clamor of his self-assertion and of his fierce oppug

nancy aga inst the academ ic powers .

”H e was great as a critic and ama teur.

The wor ld remembers him as an advocate of the E lgin marbles, and his le ttersand writings be tray his genius far more than his orig inal pa intings . H e couldconce ive , but not execute . Keats andWordsworth both wrote sonne ts in pra iseof th is extraord inary man.

Strange as it may seem , Keats did not take k ind ly to Shel ley . H unt

explained the antipathy by saying that he was a l i ttle too sens it ive on the score

of his orig in, and fe l t incl ined to see in every man of b irth a sort of natural

enemy.” Keats was who l ly in the wrong, for no one ever l ived who wa s more

k ind and de l icate and free from any pre sumption on the score of wea lth and

aristocratic l ineage .

Keats’s first poem to be published was his sonnet : O Sol itude ! if I withthee must dwel l .” I t appeared in Tlze Ex aminer for May 5, 1 8 1 6. The

acclamations of his brothers and his friends encouraged him to withdrawfrom his guardian

’s control and act contrary to his advice. I n March , 1 8 1 7 , he

B I OGRAPH I CAL SKETCH. xiii

saw his first volume of poems given to the world . Literature was now his profession. H e is described as be ing a t th is time “

a sma l l , handsome,ardent

look ing youth ; the stature l itt le overfive fee t ; the figure compact andwe l l-turned,wi th the neck thrust eagerly forward, carrying a strong and shape ly head set

off by th ickly c lustering gold-brown ha ir ; the features powerfu l , fin ished, andmobi le ; the mouth rich and wide, with an expression a t once combative and

sens i tive in the extreme ; the forehead not high , but broad and strong ; the

eyebrows nobly arched, and eyes haze l-brown, l i quid-flashing, visibly inspired.

”

H aydon sa id his eye had an inward look perfe ct ly divine , l ike a D e lph ianpriestess who saw vis ions .

” Leigh H unt a lso spoke of his m el low and g lowing, large, dark , and sensitive ”

eyes . I mpressionable , e asily affected to laughte ror tears, ful l of fun, moody, dramatic, thoroughly lovable , Keats now faced

the Worl d.

I t is interesting to note that the modern worshippers of Keats treasure withpecul iar tenderness his very faul ts, his words qua intly m isspe l led, his grammat

ical errors, his exuberant immaturities of form and idea , his crude unconven

tionalities . Like Spenser he is the poet’s poet : from his fau l ts there is more

to learn than from more perfect works .

The l ittle book fa iled to make any impression except on a few choiceSpirits . The publ ishers fe lt that they had been imposed upon and wrote

indignantly to George Keats : We regret that your brother ever requested us

to publ ish his book , or that oui' opinion of its tal ent shou ld have led us to

acquiesce in undertak ing it.”Keats h imself went into a temporary exi le so as to concentrate his m ind on

some new work . H e went to Caribrooke on the I s le of Wigh t, where hewrote his fine sonne t to the sea ; then finding the so l itude too trying, thoughhis brother Tom was wi th him , he went to Marga te, where he beganEndym ion .

” From there he wrote to H aydon speak ing among other th ingsof his horrid Morbidity of Temperam ent ,

” which he sa id was the greatestenemy and stumbl ing-block that he had to fear.

H e was“ probably somewhat worr ied about m oney matters . H is guardian

had m ismanaged his funds ; the suppl ies were running short. But Taylor 81.H ersey, afterwards the publ ish ers of the London M aga zine, had agreed to

br ing out Endym ion, and they advanced him a smal l sum, but sufficient tokeep him in comfort wh i le he wa s a t work a t it.The work was continued briskly through the summer, first at Canterbury,

then at H ampstead H eath, where he lodged with his two brothers and found

congenial friendsh ip with Charles W. D i lke and Char les Arm itage Brown, aswel l as with H aydon

, Clarke , Severn, and H unt. She l ley invited him to staywith him at Great Marlow, but Keats dec l ined . Later in the summer he

went to vis i t Benjam in Ba i ley, th en a student, but afterwa rds Archdeacon inCeylon . At Oxford, where he wrote the third book of Endym ion,” Keats,by a fool ish indiscretion, la id the seeds of i l l-h ea l th , which , together withinherited consumptive tendencies, made the poet himse lf recognize that heshoul d never again be “

secure in robustness .

”

xiv B I OGRAPHI CAL SKETCH.

While he was l iving at H ampstead he once found a butcher or a

butcher boy, or , as George Keats says, a scoundre l in l i very,” i l l -treating a

cat,and engaged the fe l low in a stand-up figh t that la s ted an hour. Kea ts

succeeded in spite of his d im inutive stature in administering a sound pun ishm ent.

I t is said that Coleridge me t Kea ts in a lane near H ighga te and describedhim as a loose, slack , not we ll -dressed youth .

” After shak ing hands withhim he said to H unt, who was wi th him ,

There is death in that hand.

”The

a ccuracy of Observa tion regard ing Keats’s shrunken old -looking hand does notseem to be compatible with the observation regarding his person, wh ich wascertainl y not loose , but compact.

The first draugh t o f Endym ion was finished a t Burford Bridge, near Dorking, on the 28th of November. H e spent the first part of the winter in rev ising and correcting the proofs of Endym ion.

”D uring the ho l idays o f that

year ( 1 8 1 7 he acted as theatr ical critic for the C/zampion in p lace o f

Reynolds, who was away . H is adm ira tion of Kean was unbounded he sa id,

There is an indescribable gusto in his voice, by which we fee l tha t theutterer is th inking of the past and future wh i le spe ak ing of the instant .”H e was enjoying a wider circ le of acqua intance . Three days a fter Chr ist

mas he was present at an“ immorta l dinner ”

g iven by H aydon . Present

were Wordsworth quoting Mi l ton and Vergi l with fine intona tion,” Char lesLamb, Monkhouse , Rich ie the African trave l ler. Lamb got tipsy and playedall sorts of absurd practical jokes. Wordsworth invited Kea ts to dinner and

is sa id to have cal led the H ymn to Pan (from wh ich Keatsrecited to him , a pre tty piece of paganism .

” I t must have been his mannerrather than the remark itse l f which m ade the author wince .

H azlitt was at tha t time del ivering a course of lectures a t the Surrey I nstitution,

and he and Kea ts became good friends, though H aydon complained tha tit was not ti ll after Keats was dead that he would acknowledge him to be a

poet. The year 1 8 1 8 was one of the most prol ific of his l ife . I n MarchKea ts jo ined his brothers in Te ignmouth . George had married Miss Wyl ie

,

the daugh ter of a deceased naval officer, and was on the po int of em igra t ingto America . So Keats took his place in car ing for Tom ,

who was now a con

firmed inval id . The wea ther was very bad and Keats’s le tters ar e ful l of compla ints of the sp lashy, ra iny, m isty, snowy, foggy, h a i ly, floody, muddy , slipshod country ” of D evon . Life was beginning to press hard upon him with itsmyster ies of pa in, s ickness , and death . I n a le tter to Reyno lds he compares

human l ife to a mansion of many apar tments . Thus he describes his ownWe no sooner get into the second chamber, wh ich I shal l call the Cham

ber ofMa iden- though t , than we become intox ica ted with the l igh t and the a tmosphere . We see noth ing but pleasantwonders, and th ink of delaying there foreve rwith de l ight. H owever, among the efle cts th is brea th ing is father of, is thattremendous one of sharpen ing one

’s vis ion into the heart and nature of man,

of convincing one’s nerves that the world is ful l of m isery and heart-break,

pain, sickness, and oppression whereby this Chamber of Maiden-thought

xvi B I OGRAPHI CAL SKETCH

external praise can give me such a glow as my own sol itary t e-perception andra tificat ion of wha t is fine .

”

An unknown adm irer sent him £25 and a sonne t of sympathy. Miss JanePorter , author of “ The Scott ish Ch iefs,” wrote him a l etter of gushingencouragement and pra ise . Keats h imse l f sa id : The a ttempt to crush m e in

the Qua r ter ly has onl y brough t m e more into no t ice .

”

A le tter summoning Keats home had m issed him in Scot land . H is brotherTom was rapid ly growing worse . H e spent the autumn months in the ir lodgings a t H ampstead taking care of the inva l id. I n D ecember he d ied and

Keats took up his residence wi th Brown, sharing the househo ld expensesand occupy ing the front s i tting-room in a l ittle house wh ich Brown had

built .Before Tom Keats d ied “ H yperion was begun, and as tim e wore on he

became more and more absorbed in poetry, wh ich , however, was shared witha new and gr owing pass ion . H e had written in Septembe r, I never was inlove, ye t the voice and shape of a wom an has haunted me these two days .

”

H e had written to his brother and s ister George The roaring of the

wind is my wife ; and the stars through mywindow-

panes are my ch i ldren ;the m ighty abstract idea of Beauty in a l l things I have , st ifles the more dividedand minute domestic happiness. An am iable wife and sweet ch i ldren I contempla te as part of tha t Beauty, but I must have a thousand of those beautifulpartic les to fi l l up my h eart. I feel more and more every day, as my im agination strengthens , that I do not l ive in th is world alone

,but in a thousand

worlds. No sooner am I a lone , than shapes of epic grea tness are stationedaround me , and serve

°my spirit the office wh ich is equiva lent to a King’s Body

guard. These th ings comb inedwith the opinio n I have formed of the

general ity of women,who appear to m e as chi ldren to whom I would rather

give a sugar-

plum than my time , form a barrier against matrimony that Irejoice in.

”

The voice and shape wh ich occasiona l ly haunted him belonged to MissChar lotte or (Rosse tti says) Jane Coxe , a young woman with a rich Easte rnlook ,” fine eyes , fine m anners, and the beauty of a leopardess .

” She kepthim awake one night, he says, as a tune of Mozart’s m igh t do .

” H e wrote

his sister-in-law : I should l ike her to ruin m e , and I should l ike you to saveme .

” But it was only a passing fancy : I don’t cry to take the moon hom e

with me in my pocket, nor do I fre t to leave her beh ind me .

”

I n a ne ighboring house l ived a Mrs . Brawne wi th a grown-up daugh ter andtwo sma l l ch ildren . Colvin describes the daughter Fanny as a brisk and

bloom ing, very young beauty , of the far from uncommon Eng l ish-hawk blondetype, with aqui l ine nose and retreating ,

forehead, sharp-cut nostril and grayblue eye , a s l ight shapely figure rather short than tal l , a tak ing sm i le and good

ha ir, carriage , and complexion .

”

Keats wrote his first impressions of her : “ She is about my he ight, with afine style of countenance of the lengthened sort. She wants sentiment in everyfeature . She manages to make her hair look wel l ; her nostri ls are very fine,

B I OGRAPHI CAL SKETCH. xvii

though a l ittle pa inful her mouth is bad, and good ; her profi le is be tter thanher full face , wh ich indeed is not ful l , but pa le and th in without showing any

bones ; her shape is very graceful, and so are her movements ; her arms are

good, he r hands bad-ish, her fee t to lerable .

”

At first he took a downrigh t dis l ike to her,ca lled her ignorant, monstrous

in her beh avior .

With in a week of the ir first mee ting he dec lared h imse lf her vassal . ByApr il he was her lover ; probably in July they became engaged . H is friendsthe few that were in the secre t— did not approve . D ilke wrote : God he lphim . I t is a bad th ing for them .

I n order to have a secure future , s ince it had become-ev ident to him that

the adve rse reviews had made l i tera ture much more d ifficul t to him , he thoughtseriously of going to Edinburgh and studying me d icine again . H e wrote : Iam a fra id I should not take k indl y to it ; I am sure I could not takefees ; and

yet I shoul d l ike to do so ; it is not worse than wr i ting poems, and hangingthem up to be flyb lown on the Revi ew shambles .

” H is finances were in a des

perate condition . H e had recklessly l ent var ious friends sum s amount ing toupwards of two hundred pounds, and his guard ian made it hum i l iating forhim to obta in wha t he had a r ight to expect. Strangely enough a sum con

siderab lyover a thousand pounds was real ly at his disposa l , but no one seemed

to know anyth ing about it unti l two years a fter his '

dea th.

Meantime he was writ ing some of his best immortal verse ; many Shortpoems, al l but one of his six splend id odes . I need not go into the h istory ofthe poem s ; each has its own biography .I n October, 1 8 1 9 , he went up to London hoping to find profitable l iterary

work on the press . But it was of no use . I n ten days he was back a t H ampstead, aga in under the spe ll of‘

the Circe whose love was l ike a poison to him .

There is only one more a ct to the tragedy of his l ife .

H is drama Otho,” from which he had h igh expectations, was accepted byKean, but at the prospec t of a ye ar’s delay in its produc tion ; he and Brown

withdrew it and offered it to Macready, who returned it unopened. H is ambit ionwas “

to m ake as great a revo lution in mode rn drama tic writing as Kean hasdone in act ing .

” Tha t ambit ion was'doom ed to disappointment .

H is friend Brown, who did not know of his engagement, perce ived that hewas unhappy. H e a lso discovered by accident that he was secretly tak ingopium at t imes to ke ep up his spirits .

I n January, 1 820, George Keats, who had fai led in business in Louisvi l le ,Ky. , owing as he a lleged to the dishonesty of Audubon the natural ist, made

a flying vis it to Eng land to ra ise some more money . H e went back carryingwith him several hundred pounds tha t b elonged to his broth er, never suspecting that he was l iving even then on the generosity of his friend Brown. I t

was not t i ll some time afterwards that he succeeded in c learing h imse lf fromthe charge of having been mean and crue l to his brother.

A few days a fter George Keats’s departure occurred the pathe tic inc identwhich Brown relates so dramatically

II

4

xviii B I OGRAPH I CAL SKETCH.

On Thursday, Feb . 3, 1 820, he came into the house in a sta te that lookedl ike fierce intoxication. Such a sta te in him

, I knew,was imposs ib le ; it

was therefore the more fearful . I asked hurried ly : ‘Wha t is the matter ?

You are fevered ‘Yes, yes,’ he answered,

‘ I was on the outs ide of the

stage th is bitter day, ti ll I was severely chi l led,— but now I don’

t feel it .

Fevered — of course, a l ittle .

’ H e m i ld ly and instant ly yie lded a propertyin his nature towards any friend—to my reques t that he should go to be d. Ifo l lowed, with the best immedia te remedy in my power . I entered his

chamber as he leapt into bed . On entering the cold sheets, before his headwas on the pi l low, b e s l igh t l y coughed, and I heard him say,

‘That is bloodfrom mymouth .

’ I went towards him ; he was] exam ining a sing le drop of

blood upon the shee t. ‘Bring me the cand le , Brown , and le t me see thisblood.

’ Afte r regarding it steadfas tly , he looked up in my face , with a

calmness 9 f , c0unten-ance that I can never forge t, and sa id, ‘ I cannot be

deceififd/

in that co lor ; that drop of blood is my death -warrant ; I must die .

’

I ran for a surgeon. My friend was bled, and at five in the morning I le fthim

, after he had been some t ime in a quie t sleep .

”

H e gradua l l y ra l l ied, and by the first of Apri l was able to take a five -m i lewa lk , and the doctor assured him that his only malady was nervous irr i tability and general weakness, caused by anxie ty, and by the exc itement of

poetry.”H e wrote M iss Brawne , offering to release her from the engagement

,but

she refused . Even before this he had been th ink ing of sa i l ing to the tropicsas sh ip ’

s surgeon . I n May Brown star ted for Scotland for another wa l kingtour, and the doctor advised Keats to go w ith him ! Instead, he took lodgingsin Wes leyan Place , Kentish Town, near Le igh H unt, and th ere stayed forabout seven weeks . I n July his second volume of poems was publish ed.

Keats wrote “ My book has had good success among the l iterary peop le ,and I be l ieve has a moderate sa le .

” Jeffrey’s favorable critic ism in the

E a’

in é u rg/z Review he lped to a ttract a ttent ion to it.

Several new hemorrhages had occurred. She l ley saw him about the m idd leof July “

under sentence of death .

”On the 1 2th of August, wh i le staying

a t Leigh H unt’s house , one of M iss Brawne

’s most ins ign ificant le tte rs was

handed him,Open . E ither a servant or l ittle Thornton H unt had unsea led it.

Kea ts was so annoyed that he wept for several hours, and immed iately leftthe house .

The Brawnes took him into the ir home , and nursed him . H aydon saw him

there, a t H ampstead, ly ing on his back in a wh ite b ed, he lp less, irritableand hectic . H e had a book ,” says the pa inter, “

and, enraged at his own

feebleness, seemed as if he were go ing out of the world, with a contempt for

th is, and no hopes of a be tter.

”

She l ley had h eard ofKeats’s i llness, and wrote him to come and l ive withhim a t Pisa . The doctors had warned him that another winter in Eng landwould b e fatal to him . Severn , the pa inter, had just won the RoyalAcademy’s gold medal

,and was about to start for his three years of study

B I OGRAPH I CAL SKETCH . xix

in I taly. Keats decided to go with him, and they embarked on boardthe Maria Crowther for Naples, September 1 8 . The expenses of his

journey were paid by an advance of£ 1 00 on the copyrigh t of Endym ion.

Brown had heard of Keats’s relapse , and hastened home to see him . H e

reached the Tham es on a D undee smack , and the two fr iends layw ith in hailof each other off Gravesend , unawares . Wh ile the Maria Crowthe r ” was

detained by stormy weather in the channel and at Portsmouth , Kea ts landedand v isited friends a t Bedhampton. Brown was then a t Chichester, on ly tenm i les away . They never met again, but Keats wrote Brown a long, patheticletter, confiding to him the secret of the tortures wh ich he had suffered , and

asking him to be a friend to M iss Brawne after he was dead.

The though t of leav ing Miss Brawne is beyond everyth ing horribl e—the

sense of darkness com ing over m e I e terna l ly se e her figure e ternallyvanish ing. Some of the phrases she was in the habit of using during my lastnursing at Wentworth Place r ing in my ears. I s there another l ife ? Sha ll Iawake and find th is a dream ? There must b e—we cannot be created for th issort of suffering .

Contrary winds enabled Keats once more to land on Engl ish so i l . I t was

on the D orsetsh ire coast, and h ere he wrote his last poem ,the sonnet begin

mng :

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art.

I n the Bay of Biscay the sh ip was met by a violent storm . Severn, findingthe water swash ing through the ir cab in in the n ight, ca l led out to Kea ts,half fearing he m igh t be dead .

” Keats answered cheeri ly with a quotat ionfrom a famous sea -song .

After the storm aba ted he began to read the sh ipwreck scene in Byron’s

Don Juan,” but flung the volume down, ind ignant a t the reckless cyn icismwh ich could make solemn things gay and gay things solemn .

”

After a month ’s voyage the ves s 1 reached Nap les, when Keats drearil yrel ieved the dulness of a ten days’ qgarantine by summon ing up in a k ind of

desperation more puns than in the who le course of his l ife before .

”

Shel ley aga in wrote to Keats invit ing him to Pisa ; but he decided to go wi thSevern to Rome. H e suffered during the drive from lack of proper food, butfound del ight in thescenery and espec ial ly the flowers. At Rome , where theyarr ived towards the end of November, they took lodgings at: the Piazza diSpagna . Severn, who was a good music ian, got a p iano, and often soothedhis friend’s pa in by play ing to him . The wea ther was fine and for a time he

seemed to improve ; his spirits rose , and he was often p l easant and wi tty . H e

planned a poem on the subject of Sabrina . On the last day of November heh imsel f wrote Brown a cheerful letter very d ifferent from that which he wroteon the first day of the month , when he sa idI have coals of fire in my breast . I t surpr ises me that the human heart is

capable of so much m isery .

”

But he coul d not summon resolution to write to M iss Brawne again. The

I

xx B I OGRAPH I CAL SKETCH .

last letter that he is known to ha ve sent her was da ted July 20, a most

melancholy and terrible letter.

On the tenth of D ecember he suffered a relapse . H emorrhage followedhemorrhage . H e besough t Severn to le t him have opium to end al l, not from

fear of pa in, but so that he migh t spare his friend the trials wh ich the i l lnesscaused .

N ”

Keats was not a be l iever. Severn was a Christian, and his influence overKeats was most b eneficent. H e asked Severn to read to him from Taylor’s“ H o l y Living and D ying, and certainly strove to calm the tumult of his

soul .

H is habitual question of the doctor was : Wh en wi ll th is posthumous l ifeof m ine come to an end ? ” Ne ither the friend nor the doctor could bear thepathe tic express ion of his great eyes burn ing w ith a sad and piercingunearthly brigh tness in his was ted cheeks.

”H is appreciation of every act

of k indness was ve ry love ly, and Severn ’

s reminiscences of his death-bed are

exquis ite pictures of pathos and unse lfis h friendsh ip .

On the 23d of February, 1 821 , about four o’c lock , the end came . H e said

Severn— I — l ift me up— I am dying I sha l l die easy ; don’

t be frightenedbe firm and thank God it has come .

When at last the breath ing ceased, Severn thought he still slept .Three days later he was buried in the Protestant cemetery near the Pyram id

of Caius Sestus, and there sixty-two years later Severn’s rema ins were a lso

placed.

The fame of Keats has steadily grown since his death . H is place is certainamong the foremost of Engl ish poe ts . H e is distinctive l y the bard of Beauty ;in him re igns tha t sp irit wh ich l inks him d irect ly with the c lassic Greeks .

Critic ism eas ily discovers impe rfect rhymes, over-ambitious a ttempts at originality in form and though t, lack of symmetry . Indeed, the propo rtion of

fau lt less poetry in the total mass of his verse cou ld be conta ined in a smal lvolume . But when that selection is made , how distinctl y it stands out in con

trast with a l l the poetry of the preceding two centuries ! H ow it se rves as a

touchstone whereby a ll the poe try tha t has fol lowed may b e differentiated !H ow c learly his influence is seen in the singers of our day !When we remember that Kea ts was on ly twenty -six when he died, al l the

more wonderful se ems wha t he accompl ished.

I t is not s trange , therefore , that every word and l ine of his is tr easured ,

even when it offends our taste . The effort of his genius to express itse lfawakens our keenest interest, and his faul ts and fol l ies seem to us as the imma

turities of a beloved ch i ld, work ing toward an ever h igher and more perfec t

ideal .

NATH AN HASKELL DOLE.

BOSTON, Ju ly 25, 1 895.

poems.

J OH N KEATS .

What m ore felicity can fall to creature

Than to enjoy delight with liberty .

Fa te of the B utterfly.—SPENSER

L OND ON :

PR I NTED FOR

0. gr J . OLL IER , 3, WELBECK STREET,

CAVEND I SH SQUARE .

[Keats’s first volume , publ ished early in 1 8 1 7 , is a foolscap octavo workedin ha l f shee ts . I t was issued in drab boards , with a back labe l Keats

’s Poems ,

and consists of a blank leaf, fly-tit le Poems in heavy black le tter , with imprinton verso ,

“PRI NTED BY 0. R I CH ARD S , NO . 1 8 , WARW I CK STREET , GOLD EN

SQUARE , LONDON ,

”tit le -

page as given Opposite , D edication with note on

verso as reproduced , and pages I to 1 21 inc luding the fiy-tit les to the Epist les ,Sonne ts , and S leep a nd Poetry , a l l as reproduced in the fo l lowing pages .

There are head- l ines in Roman capital s runni throughout each section , recto

and verso a l ike , ( 1 ) Poems, ( 2) Epistles , (3 Sonnets , and (4 ) Sleep a nd

Poetry . Le igh H unt , reviewing with characteristic bo ldness , loya lty , and ihsigh t th is vo lume , dedicated to him , laid his finger unerringl y on its weak andstrong points . H is rev iew appeared in Tlze Ex aminer for the I st of June and6th and 1 3th of Ju l y , 1 8 1 7 , and wi l l be found reprinted as an Appendix in thepresent edition o f Kea ts’s Works ; but I have not hesitated to sna tch a l inefrom it now and then by way of appropriate foot-note to these ear ly poems .

H . B . F

[THE Short Pieces in the middle of the Book , as wellas some of the Sonne ts , were wri tten a t

period than the rest of the Poems .]

POEMS .

P laces of nes t ling g reen for Poe ts m ade .

STORY OF R 1 M 1 N 1 .

STOOD tiptoe upon a l i ttle hill ,

The air was cool ing , and so very still ,Tha t the sweet buds which wi th a modes t pride

Pul l droop ingly , in s lanting curve as ide ,The ir scantly leav’d , and fine ly tapering s tem s ,

H ad not yet los t those starry diadems

Caught from the early sobbing of the mom .

The clouds were pure and white as flocks new shorn ,

And fresh from the clear brook ; sweetly they sleptOn the blue fields of heaven , and then there creptA l i ttle noise less noise among the leaves ,Born of the very s igh that s i lence heavesFor not the fa intes t motion could be seen

Of all the shades that s lanted o’er the green .

There was wide wand’ring for the greediest eye ,To peer about upon variety ;Far round the hori zon’

s crys ta l air to skim ,

And trace the dwindled edgings of its brim ;To picture out the qua int , and cur ious bendingOf a fresh woodland a lley , never ending ;Or by the bowery clefts , and leafy she lves ,Guess where the jaunty streams refresh themse lves .

I ga zed awhile , and fe lt as l ight , and freeAs though the far ming wings ofMercury

( 1 ) Le igh H unt te l ls us in Lor d Byr on and Some of bis Contempor ar ies that“this poem wa s sugge sted to Kea ts by a de l ightful summer

’

s-day,as he stood

bes ide the gate that lead s from the Battery on H ampstead H eath into a fie ld byCaen Wood .

”

( 1 2) H unt ca l ls this (see Append ix) a fancy, founded , as all beautiful fanc iesare

,on a strong sense ofwhat real ly exists or occurs .

6 POEMS PUBLI SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

H ad play’d upon my hee ls : I was l ight-hearted ,

And many pleasures to my vis ion s tarted ;80 I s tra ightway began to pluck a poseyOf luxuries bright , m i lky , soft and rosy .

A bush of May flowers with the bees about them ;Ah , sure no tasteful nook would be wi thout them ;And le t a lush laburnum oversweep them ,

And let long grass grow round the roots to keep themMois t , cool and green ; and shade the viole ts ,That they may bind the moss in leafy nets .

A filbert hedge wi th wi ld briar overtwin’d ,

And c lumps of woodbine tak ing the soft windUpon the ir summer thrones ; there too should beThe frequent chequer of a youngl ing tree ,

That with a score of l ight green bre thren shootsFrom the qua int moss iness of aged rootsRound which is heard a spring- head of clear wa tersBabbling so wi ldly of its lovely daughtersThe spreading blue be lls : i t may haply mourn

That such fa ir clus ters should be rudely tornFrom the ir fresh beds , and scatter

’d thoughtless lyBy infant hands , left on the path to die .

Open afresh your round of s tarry folds ,Ye ardent marigoldsD ry up the moisture from your golden l ids ,For great Apollo bidsThat in these days your pra ises should be sungOn many harps , wh ich he has lately strung ;And when aga in your dewiness he kisses ,Te ll him , I have you in my world of blissesSo haply when I rove in some far va le ,H is m ighty voice may come upon the gale .

H ere are sweet peas , on tiptoe for a fl ightWith wings of gentle flush o’er de l icate white ,

(37—4 1 ) Of this passage H unt says , Any bod y who has seen a throng of youngbeeches,furnishing those natura l c lumpy seats a t the root , must recogn ize the tru th

and grace of this description . H e adds that the rema inder of the poem , e spec ia l lyverses 4 7 to 86, “

affords an exquisite proof of close observation ofnature as we ll asthemost luxuriant fancy."

“ I S TOOD TI P—TOE UPON A L I TTLE H I LL .

”

7

And taper fingers catching at all things ,To bind them all about with tiny rings .

Linger awhile upon some bending planksThat lean against a stream le t’s rushy banks ,And wa tch intently Nature’s gentle doingsThey wi l l be found softer than r ing-dove’s cooings .

H ow silent comes the wa ter round tha t bend ;Not the m inutes t whisper does i t sendTo the o

’erhanging sa llows : blades of grass

Slowly across the chequer’d shadows pass .

Why , you m ight read two sonnets , ere they reachTo where the hurrying freshnesses aye preachA natural sermon o

’er the ir pebbly beds ;Where swarms of m innows show the ir l i ttle heads ,

S taying the ir wavy bodies ’

ga ins t the s treams ,

To taste the luxury of sunny beams

Temper’d wi th coolness . H ow they ever wres tle

With the ir own sweet de l ight , and ever nestleThe ir s i lver bell ies on the pebbly sand .

I f you but scantily hold out the hand ,Tha t very ins tant not one wi l l rema in ;But turn your eye , and they are there aga in ,

The ripples seem r ight g lad to reach those cresses ,

And cool themselves among the em’rald tresses ;

The while they cool themse lves , they freshness give ,And moisture , that the bowery green may l iveSo keep ing up an interchange of favours ,Like good men in the truth of the ir behaviours .

Sometimes goldfinches one by one wi ll dropFrom low hung branches ; l i ttle space they stop ;But sip , and twi tter , and the ir feathers s leek ;Then off at once , as in a wanton freak

(61 - 80) C larke says Keats to ld him this passage wa s the reco l lect ion of thefriends

' “ having frequent ly lo i tered over the ra il of a foot-bridge that spanned

a l itt le brook in the last fie ld upon entering Edmonton. Keats,he says ,

thought the p icture correct,and acknowledged to a part ia l ity for it . Lord

H oughton prints the following a lternat ive read ing of the passage beg inning withl ine 61

Linger awh ile among some bend ing p lanksTha t lean aga inst a stream let ’s da is ied banks

,

And watch intent ly Nature'

s gent le do ing sThat wi l l b e found a s soft a s ringdoves '

cooings .The inward ear wi l l hear he r and b e blest

,

And ting le with a joy too light for rest.”

8 POEMS PUBL I SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

Or perhaps , to show the ir black , and golden wings ,Paus ing upon the ir ye l low flutterings .

Were I in such a place , I sure should prayThat nought less sweet , m ight cal l my thoughts away ,Than the soft rus tle of a ma iden’

s gownFanning away the dande l ion’s down ;Than the l ight music of her n imble toesPatting aga ins t the sorre l as she goes .

H ow she would s tart , and blush , thus to be caughtP laying in a ll her innocence of thought .O le t me lead her gent ly o’er the brook ,Watch her ha lf- smil ing lips , and downward look ;0 le t me for one moment touch her wris t ;Let me one moment to her breath ing l ist ;And as she leaves me may she often turn

H er fa ir eyes look ing through her locks auburne .

What nex t P} A tuft of evening primroses ,

O’er which the m ind may hover t i l l i t dozes ;

O’er wh ich it we ll m ight take a pleasant s leep ,

But that ’tis ever startled by the leap

Of buds into ripe flowers ; or by the fl ittingOf diverse moths , that aye the ir res t are qui tting ;Or by the moon l ift ing her s i lve r rimAbove a cloud , and wi th a gradual swimCom ing into the blue with a ll her l ight .0 Maker of swee t poe ts , dear del ightOf this fa ir world , and al l its gent le l ivers ;Spangler of c louds , ha lo of crysta l ri vers ,M ingler with leaves , and dew and tumbling streams ,Clos er of love ly eyes to love ly dreams ,Lover of lonel iness , and wandering ,

Of upcast eye , and tender pondering !Thee must I pra ise above a ll other g loriesThat sm i le us on to te ll del ightful s tories .

For what has made the sage or poe t wri te

(9 6) M r. F. Locker posse sse s a s ing le leaf of the autograph manuscr ipt of th ispoem ,

beg inn ing with line 9 6 and end ing with line 1 82. I t seem s to have beenp re served by H aydon

,who has written upon it

,

“G iven m e by my D ear Friend

Kea ts— B. R. H aydon . The ve rba l va r iat ions are g iven be low.

9 9 ) The m anuscript reads will for wou ld .

1 06) I n the manu script ,peeping for looking .

1 1 5) Lord H oughton notes, p re sum ably from som e other m anuscript , the

fo owing variat ionFloa t ingthrough space with ever- l iving eye ,The crowned queen of ocean and the sky.

“ I S TOOD TI P—TOE UPON A L I TTLE H I LL .

”

9

But the fair paradise of Nature’s l ight ?I n the ca lm grandeur of a sober l ine ,We see the waving of the mounta in p ine ;And when a ta le is beautifully s ta id ,We fee l the safety of a hawthorn gladeWhen it is moving on luxurious wings ,The soul is los t in pleasant smotheringsFa ir dewy roses brush aga inst our faces ,And flowering laurels spring from diamond vases ;O’er head we see the jasm ine and swee t briar ,

And bloomy grapes laughing from green a ttire ;While at our fee t , the voice of crys tal bubblesCharms us a t once away from a ll our troublesSo that we fee l upl ifted from the world ,Wa lking upon the white clouds wreath’d and curl

’d .

So felt he , who firs t told , how Psyche wentOn the smooth wind to . realms of wonderment ;Wha t Psyche fe lt , and Love , when the ir ful l l ipsFirs t touch’d ; what amorous , and fondling nipsThey gave each other’s cheeks ; with all the ir s ighs ,And how they k ist each other’s tremulous eyesThe s ilver lamp ,

— the ravishment , the wonderThe darkness , — lone l iness , - the fearful thunder ;The ir woes gone by , and both to heaven upflown ,

To bow for grat i tude before Jove’s throne .

So did he fee l , who pull’d the boughs as ide ,

Tha t we m ight look into a forest wide ,

To catch a gl impse of Fauns , and D ryadesCom ing with softest rustle through the trees ;And garlands woven of flowers wi ld , and sweet ,Uphe ld on ivory wr ists , or sporting feetTe ll ing us how fa ir , trembling Syrinx fledArcadian Pan , with such a fearful dread .

Poor nymph , poor Pan ,how he did weep to find ,

(1 28) I n the manuscript we read a mountain Pine .

1 4 1 ) Compare E ndymion ,fina l coup let

Peoma wentH ome through the g loomy wood in wonderment.

( 1 44 ) This was orig ina l ly wr itten in the m anuscr ip t , Wka tfondleing and amour

ous nips ; but the words are marked to b e transposed .

( 1 51 ) Cance l led m anuscript read ing ,So do t/zey feel w/zo pu l l ; and in the next

l ine , may for m tg/it .53) I n the m anuscript , and in the origina l ed ition ,

Fawns for Fanns .

55;Cance l led m anuscript read ing ,

And cur ious g ar lands of flower s, &c .

56 The manus cr ipt has spor tive for spor ting .

59 ) I n the manuscript , now did be weep .

I O POEMS PUBLI SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

Nought but a lovely s ighing of the windAlong the reedy stream ; a half heard s train,

Ful l of swee t desolation balmy pa in .

What firs t inspir’d a bard of old to s ingNarcissus p ining o

’er the unta inted spring ?

I n some de l ic ious ramble , he had foundA l i ttle space , wi th boughs all woven round ;And in the m ids t of all , a clearer poolThan e

’er reflected in its pleasant cool ,

The blue sky here , and there , serene ly peepingThrough tendri l wreaths fantas t ica lly creeping .

And on the bank a lone ly flower he sp ied ,A meek and forlorn flower , wi th naught of pr ide ,D rooping its beauty o’er the wa tery clearness ,To woo its own sad image into nearness :

D eaf to l ight Zephyrus i t would not move ;But s til l would seem to droop , to p ine , to love .

So while the poe t s tood in this sweet spot ,Some fa inter gleam ings o’er his fancy shot ;Nor was i t long ere he had told the taleOf young Narc issus , and sad Echo’s bale .

Where had he been , from whose warm head out-flewThat swee tes t of all songs , tha t ever new,

Tha t aye refreshing , pure de l ic iousnes s ,Coming ever to blessThe wanderer by moonl ight ? to him bringingShapes from the invis ible world , unearthly s ingingFrom out the m iddle air , from flowery nes ts ,And from the pillowy s i lk iness tha t restsFul l in the speculation of the s tars .

Ah ! sure ly he had burs t our mortal bars ;Into some wond’rous reg ion he had gone ,To search for thee , divine Endym ion !

H e was a Poet , sure a lover too ,

Who s tood on La tmus’top , what t ime there blew

Soft bree zes from the myrt le vale be low ;And brought in fa intness solemn , sweet , and s lowA hymn from D ian’s temple ; while upswe ll ing ,

( 1 7 4) We read fair for sad in the manuscript.

1 2 POEMS PUBL I SH ED I N 1 8 1 7

Cynthia ! I cannot tel l the grea ter blisses ,Tha t follow’d thine , and thy dear shepherd’s kissesWas there a poe t born ? but now no more ,

Mywand’ring sp irit mus t no farther soar .

SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO A POEM.

*

O ! I must te l l a tale of chivalry ;For large white plumes are dancing in m ineNot l ike the forma l cres t of latter days

But bending in a thousand graceful ways ;So graceful , that it seems no morta l hand ,Or e

’en the touch of Archimago

’

s wand ,Cou ld charm them into such an attitude .

We mus t think ra ther , that in playful mood ,Some mounta in bree ze had '

turn’d its ch ief del ight ,

To show this wonder of its gentle m ight .Lo ! I mus t te l l a tale of chivalry ;For while I muse , the lance points s lantinglyAthwart

,the morn ing air : some lady swee t ,

Who cannot fee l for cold her tender fee t ,From the worn top of some old batt lementH a i ls i t wi th tears , her s tout defender sent(24 2) The publica tion of E ndymion in the fo llowing year g ives an add it iona linterest to this conc lud ing pas sage , beginning a t l ine 1 8 1 . Tha t the subject wasa lready

,as early as the summer of 1 8 1 6

,comm end ing i tse lf to Keats a s one worth

0 his ambition appea rs from this,for the book was ou t so e arly in 1 8 1 7 tha t the sa le

was sa id to have d ropped by the 29 th of Apr i l (see the publishe rs ’ le tter of thatdate in the Append ix) . Thus , the de l ightfu l summer

'

s daym entioned by H unt (see

page 5) cannot have been in 1 8 1 7 ; b ut the re is an e xtant lette r to Cha rles CowdenC larke which m entions

,under da te 1 7 D ecembe r 1 8 1 6

,a work ent itled E ndymion ,

a s to b e finished in one more a ttack . Pe rhaps this po ints to a rejected draft ona sma l l sca le

,to which the forego ing poem wa s the introduc tion.

H unt speaks confidently of this and the next compos ition a s connec ted The

Specimen of an I nduction to a Poem,and the fragment of the Poem itse lf ent it led

Ca lidor e (se e A pendix ) ; and this view is borne out , not on ly by interna l evxdence b ut by the ct tha t in a vo lume of transcripts made in a copy-book of TomKea ts 5 the se two compos it ions a re wr itten cont inuous ly, the firs t headed s imp lyI nduction, and the second Ca lidor e . Severa l pa ssage s a re marked in the ma rg in ;and a t the end of Ca lidor e is wr itten

,Marked by Le igh H unt H unt

’

s

marking resu lted in the d isappearance of one bad rhyme,for in the transcript line

1 7 stands thusAnd now no more her anx ious grief rememb ring

and the last word in l ine 1 8 is unde rl ined by H unt . Some m inor varia t ions a re

say for Mint in l ine 8 , lzis for its in l ine s 9 and 1 0,g r andeur for sp lendour in line 35,

this or ig/it spear for t/zat or ig/it lance in l ine 37 , and you forye in l ine 40.

SPE CI MEN OF AN I N D UCTI ON TO A POEM . I 3

And from her own pure se lf no joy dissembling ,Wraps round her ample robe with happy trembling .

Sometimes , when the good Knight his rest would take ,I t is reflected , clearly , in a lake ,0With the young ashen boughs , ’

ga ins t which it rests ,‘And th’ ha lf seen moss iness of l innets’ nes ts ,Ah shal l I ever tel l its cruelty ,When the fire flashes from a warrior’s eye ,And his tremendous hand is grasping i t ,And his dark brow for very wrath is knit ?Or when his spiri t , wi th more ca lm intent ,Leaps to the honors of a tournament ,And makes the gazers round about the r ingS tare at the g randeur of the ballancing ?No , no ! this is far off : then how shal l IRevive the dying tones ‘

of m instrelsy ,Which l inger yet about lone gothic arches ,I n dark green ivy , and among wild larches ?H ow s ing the splendour of the revelries ,When buts of wine are drunk off to the lees ?And that bright lance ,

aga ins t the fre tted wall ,Beneath the shade of sta te ly banneral ,I s s lung wi th shining cuirass , sword , and shield ?Where ye may see a spur in bloody fie ld .

Light-footed damsels move wi th gentle pacesRound the wide hal l , and show the ir happy faces ;Or stand in courtly ta lk by fives and sevensLike those fa ir stars that twinkle in the heavens .

Yet mus t I tel l a tale of chivalryOr wherefore com es that s teed so proudly by ?Wherefore more proudly does the gentle knight ,Re in in the swe l l ing of his ample m ight ?

Spenser ! thy brows are arched , open , kind ,And come l ike a clear sun- r ise to my m ind ;And a lways does my heart with pleasure dance ,When I think on thy noble countenanceWhere never yet was ought more earthly seenThan the pure freshness of thy laure ls green .

44 ) The transcript read s wfiicfi for Ma t .

46) I n previous ed it ions,é nzgnt ; b u t in a copy of the 1 8 1 7 volume bearing on

the t it le-

page an inscript ion in Kea ts'

s writing , the word steed is substituted inmanuscript formgr/u. The transcript a lso reads d eed .

I 4 POEMS PUBLI SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

Therefore , great bard , I not so fearfullyCa ll on thy gentle sp iri t to hover n ighMy daring steps or if thy tender care ,Thus s tartled unaware ,

Be jealous that the foot of other WightShould madly follow that bright pa th of l ightTrae

’d by thy lov’d Libertas ; he wi l l speak ,And te ll thee that my prayer is very meek ;That I wi l l fol low with due reverence ,

And s tart with awe a t m ine own strange pre tence .

H im thou wil t hear ; so I wi ll res t in hopeTo see wide pla ins , fa ir trees and lawny s lopeThe mom , the eve , the l ight , the shade , the flowers ;Clear s treams , smooth lakes , and overlooking towers .

C AL I D O R E .

A FRAGMENT .

YOUNG Calidore is paddling o

’

er the lake ;H is heal thful spirit eager and awakeTo fee l the beauty Of a s i lent eve ,

Which seem’d ful l loath this happy world to leave ;The l ight dwe l t o’er the scene so l ingeringly .

H e bares his forehead to the cool blue sky,

And sm i les at the far clearness all around ,Unt i l his heart is we ll nigh over wound ,And turns for calmness to the pleasant greenOf easy s lopes , and shadowy trees that leanSo elegantly o’er the waters’ brimAnd show the ir blossoms trim .

Scarce can his clear and nimble eye- s ight fol low

The freaks , and dartings of the black-wing’

d swa llow,

D e l ighting much , to see i t half at res t ,Dip so refreshingly its wings , and breas t

CALI D ORE .

’Ga inst the smooth surface , and to mark anon,The widening c ircles into nothing gone .

And now the sharp kee l of his l ittle boatComes up wi th r ipple , and wi th easy float ,And g lides into a bed of water l il l iesBroad leav’d are they and the ir white canopiesAre upward turu’d to ca tch the heavens’ dew.

Near to a l i ttle is land’s point they grew ;Whence Calidore m ight have the goodliest ViewOf this swee t spot of earth . The bowery shore_Went off ih gentle windings to the hoarAnd l ight blue mounta ins : but no brea thing manWith a warm heart , and eye prepar

’d to scanNature’s clear beauty , could pass l ightly byObjects that look’d out so invitinglyOn e i ther s i de . These , gentle CalidoreG reeted , as he had known them long before .

The s ide long view of swe l l ing leafiness ,Which the glad sett ing sun , in gold doth dress ;Whence ever , and anon the jay outsprings ,And sca les upon the beauty of its wings .

The lonely turret , shatter’d , and outworn ,

Stands venerably roud ; too proud to mournI ts long lost gran eur : fir trees grow around ,Aye dropping the ir hard fru i t upon the ground .

The l ittle chape l wi th the cross aboveUpholding wreaths of ivy ; the white dove ,Tha t on the window spreads his fea thers light ,And seems from purple clouds to wing its fl ight .G reen tufted is lands casting the ir soft shadesAcross the lake ; sequester’d leafy glades ,(28) I n the transcript , l ine 28 reads

And l ight blue Mounta ins . But sure no breathing manand in l ine 29 an stands in p lace of and.

(40) I n the transcr ipt this and the ne xt l ine stand thusI ts long lost grandeur . Laburnums grow aroundAnd bow the ir go lden honors to the ground .

(4 2) I n the transcr ipt , its cr oss .

(44 ) The transcript reads window ; the first ed ition, windows.

I S

I 6 POEMS PUBLI SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

That through the dimness of their twil ight showLarge dock lea ves , sp ira l foxgloves , or the glowOf the wi ld cat’s eyes , or the s ilvery s tems

Of del icate birch trees , or long grass which hemsA l i ttle brook . The

' youth had long been viewingThese pleasant things , and heaven was bedewingThe mounta in flowers , when his glad senses caughtA trumpe t’s s i lver vo ice . Ah ! it was fraughtWith many joys for him : the warder’s kenH ad found white coursers pranc ing in the glenFr iends very dear to him he soon wi ll see ;So pushes off his boat mos t eagerly ,And soon upon the lake he sk ims a long ,

D eaf to the n ightinga le’s firs t under- song ;Nor m inds he the white swans that dream so swee tlyH is spiri t fl ies before him so complete ly .

And now he turns a jutting point of land ,Whence may be seen the cas tle gloomy , and grandNor wi l l a bee buzz round two swe ll ing peaches ,Before the point of his l ight sha llop reachesThose marble s teps that through the water dipNow over them he goes with has ty trip ,

And scarce ly s tays to ope the folding doorsAnon he leaps a long the oaken floorsOf ha lls and corri dors .

D e l icious sounds ! those l ittle bright- ey’d thingsTha t floa t about the air on a zure wings ,H ad been less heartfe l t by him than the c langOf clattering hoofs ; into the court he sprang ,

Jus t as two noble steeds , and pa lfreys twa in ,

Were s lant ing out the ir necks with loosened re in ;While from beneath the threat’ning portcul l isThey brought the ir happy burthens . What a kiss ,What gentle squeeze he gave each lady’s hand !H ow tremblingly the ir de lica te ankles spann

’d !

Into how swee t a trance his soul was gone ,

While whisperings of affect ion

W/zicnfor TIza t in the trans crip t .I n the transcrip t we read seen forfound .

I n the t ranscrip t , a cr oss the l ake .

The transcript reads [ l ies for g oes .

And sca r ce ly stops , in the transcr ipt.I n the transcrip t ,fr om loosened r ein.

CAL I D ORE .

Made him delay to let the ir tender feetCome to the earth ; with an incl ine so swee t

From the ir low palfreys o’er his neck they bent

And whether there were tears of languishment ,Or that the evening dew had pearl’d the ir tresses ,H e feels a moisture on his cheek , and blessesWith lips that tremble , and wi th gl isten ing eye ,All the soft luxuryThat nest led in his arms . A dimpled hand ,Fa ir as some wonder out of fa iry land ,H ung from his shoulder l ike the droop ing flowersOf whites t Cass ia , fresh from summer showersAnd this he fondled wi th his happy cheekAs if for joy he would no further seek ;When the kind voice of good Sir Clerimond

Came to his ear , l ike something from beyondH is present be ing : so he gent ly drewH is warm arms , thril l ing now wi th pulses new,From the ir swee t thra ll , and forward gently bending,Thank’d heaven tha t his joy was never ending ;While ’

ga ins t his forehead he devoutly press’dA hand heaven made to succour the distress

’d ;

A hand that from the world’s bleak promontoryH ad l ifted Calidore for deeds of G lory .

Am id the pages , and the torches’ glare ,

There s tood a knight , patt ing the flowing hairOf his proud horse’s mane : he was wi thalA man of e legance , and s tature ta llSo tha t the waving of his plumes wou ld beH igh as the berr ies of a wi ld ash tree ,Or as the winged cap of Mercury .

H is armour was so dex terous ly wroughtI n shape , that sure no li v ing man had thoughtI t hard , and heavy stee l : but tha t indeedI t was some glor ious form , some splendid weed ,I n which a Sp ir it new coine from the skiesM ight live , and show itse lf to human eyes .

’Tis the far-fam

’d , the brave Sir Gondibert ,Sa id the good man to Calidore a lert ;While the young warrior with a s tep of grace

(85) The transcript readspr etty/eel .1 0 1 ) Tlils pr esent being , in the transcr ip t .1 03) The transcript reads meekly bending .

1 8 POEMS PUBLI SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

Came up , a courtly sm i le upon his face ,And ma iled hand he ld out , ready to gree tThe large-ey

’d wonder , and ambitious heatOf the aspiring boy ; who as he led

Those sm i l ing ladies , often turn’d his headTo adm ire the visor arch’d so graceful lyOver a kn ight ly brow ; while they went byThe lamps that from the high- roof’d ha l l were pendent ,And gave the s tee l a shining quite transcendent .Soon in a pleasant chambe r they are sea ted ;The swee t- lipp

’d ladies have al ready gree tedAll the green leaves that round the window clamber ,To show the ir purple s tars , and bells of amber,Sir Gondibert has dofl

’d his shining s tee l ,G laddening in the free , and a iry fee lOf a l ight mantle ; and while ClerimondI s looking round about him with a fond ,And placid eye ,

young Ca lidore is burn ingTo hear of knightly deeds , and gal lant spurningOf a ll unworthiness ; and how the s trong of arm

Kept off dismay , and terror , and a larmFrom love ly woman : while brimful of this ,H e gave each damse l’s hand so warm a kiss ,And had such manly ardour in his eye ,That each at other look’d ha lf s taringly ;And then the ir fea tures s tarted into sm ilesSweet as blue heavens o

’er enchanted is les .

Softly the breezes from the fores t came ,

Softly they blew as ide the taper’s flame ;

Clear was the song from Philome l’s far bower ;G rateful the incense from the l ime- tree flower ;Mysterious , wild , the far heard trumpe t’s tone ;Love ly the moon in e ther , a ll alone :Swee t too the converse of these happy mortals ,As that of busy spiri ts when the porta lsAre clos ing in the wes t ; or that soft humm ingWe hear around when H esperus is coming .

Swee t be the ir s leep .


ON RECE IVING A CUR IOUS SH ELL, AND A COPY OF

VERSES ,FROM TH E SAME LAD IES .

AST thou from the caves of Golconda , a gem

Pure as the ice - drop tha t froze on the mounta in ?Bright as the humm ing-bird’s green diadem ,

When it flut ters in sun-beams that shine through a fountain ?H as t thou a goble t for dark sparkl ing wine ?That goble t right heavy , and massy , and gold ?

And splendidly mark’d with the s tory div ine

Of Arm ida the fa ir , and R ina ldo the bold ?H as t thou a steed wi th a mane r ichly flowing ?H ast thou a sword tha t thine enemy’s smart is ?

H as t thou a trumpet r ich me lodies blowing ?And wear

’s t thou the shie ld of the fam’d Britomartis ?

What is i t that hangs from thy shoulder , so brave ,

Embroider’d wi th many a spring peering flower ?

I s i t a scarf that thy fa ir lady gave ?And has tes t thou now to that fa ir lady’s bower ?

Ah ! courteous Sir Knight , wi th large joy thou art crown’d ;Full many the glories that brighten thy youth !

The t it le of this poem has gene ra lly stood dis tributed between this and the

preced ing compos it ion ; though Lord H oughton , in his la test (A ld ine ) ed i tion,

restores the a rrangem ent of the 1 8 1 7 vo lum e . H unt ca l ls these ve rse s (see Appendix) , a str ing of mag istra te—inte rroga tor ies abou t a she l l and a copy of ve rse s .

”

I n Tom Kea ts’

s book of transcripts , a lre ady m entioned,the poem is headed m ere ly

On rece iving a cu rious she l l and a copy of verse s ; b ut anothe r transcript, inthe hand-writing of Ge orge Ke a ts

,is subscr ibed (not headed) Wr i tten on re

c eiving a copy of Tom Moore’

s Go lden Cha in,

’

and a mos t beau t ifu l D ome

sha p ed she ll from a Lady. The re fe rence is no doubt to Tire Wr eat/z a nd

Me Chain ; and this sm a l l reve lat ion is sat isfactory as a ccounting for the Tom

M oorish trivia l ity o f the two p iece s . I n the last-nam ed copy , in l ine 6 we read

fu l l for rig /it , in l ine 7 wr oug /zt for mar é’

d,in l ine 9 lzis mane t/zic/é ly ,

in l ine 1 0

waieli for t/zat . Line 1 7 reads

Ah courteous Sir Eric ! with joy thou art crown d

I n l ine 1 9 we have I too have my Olisses , and l ine 23 is

And 10 ! it posse sse s this prope rty rare .

I n l ine 29 , George Kea ts’

s transcript has sofl -speaking for soft signing ,and l ine

31 I S

The H ymns of the wonder ing Sp irits were mute

ON RE CE I VI N G A CURI OUS SH ELL . 2 !

I will tel l thee my blisses , which ri chly aboundI n magical powers to bless , and to sooth .

On this scroll thou sees t wri tten in characters fa irA sun-beamy ta le of a wrea th , and a cha in ;

And , warrior , i t nurtures the prope rty rareOf charm ing my m ind from the tramm els of pa in.

This canopy mark : ’tis the work of a fay ;

Beneath its r ich shade did King Oberon languish ,When love ly T i tania was far , far away ,And crue lly left him to sorrow, and anguish .

There , oft would he bring from his soft s ighing luteWild s tra ins to which , spe l l-bound , the night inga les l isten’d ; 30

The wondering sp ir i ts of heaven '

were mute ,And tears ’mong the dewdrops of morn ing oft glis ten

’d .

I n this l i ttle dome , all those m e lodie s s trange ,

Soft , pla int ive , and me lt ing , for ever wil l s igh ;Nor e

’er wil l the notes from the ir tenderness change ;

Nor e’er wi l l the mus ic of Oberon die .

So , when I am in a‘

voluptuous ve in ,

I pil low my head on the sweets of the rose ,

And l is t to the tale of the wreath , and the cha in ,

Til l its echoes depart ; then I s ink to repose .

Adieu , val iant Er ic ! with joy thou art crown’d ;Full many the glor ies that brighten thy youth ,I too have my blisses , which r ichly abound

I n magica l powers , to bless and to sooth .

I n l ine 37 we have And for S o, and in l ine 39 song for ta le. None of these va ri~a tions a re shown by the other copy , which corre sponds a lmost exactly with thevo lume of 1 8 1 7 , b ut reads line 31 thus

The wandering sp irits of H eaven are mute.


AD ST thou liv’d in days of old ,

0 wha t wonders had been toldOf thy l ive ly countenance ,

And thy hum id eyes that danceI n the m ids t of the ir own brightness ;I n the very fane of l igh tness .

Over which th ine eyebrows , leaning ,P icture out each love ly meaning :I n a da inty bend they lie ,

Like to streaks across the sky,Or the feathers from a crow,

Fa l len on a bed of snow.

Of thy dark ha ir that e xtendsInto many grace ful bendsAs the leaves of H e lleboreTurn to whence they sprung before .

And behind each ample curlPeeps the r ichness of a pearlD ownward too flows many a tressWith a glossy waviness ;Full , and round like globes that riseFrom the censer to the skiesThrough sunny air . Add too , the sweetnessOf thy honey

’d voi ce ; the neatness

Of th ine ankle l ightly turu’dWith those beauties , scarce discern’d,Kept with such swee t privacy ,That they se ldom mee t the eye

Of the l it tle loves that flyRound about wi th eager pry.

Saving when , with freshening lave ,Thou dipp’s t them in the ta intless wave ;Like twin water l i ll ies , bornI n the coolness of the morn .

0, if thou hadst brea thed then ,

Now the Muses had been ten .

Coulds t thou wish for l ineage higherThan twin s is ter of Tha l ia ?At least for ever , evermore ,

Will I cal l the Graces four .

TO H OPE .

H ads t thou liv’d when chivalryLifted up her lance on high ,Te ll m e what thou woulds t have been ?Ah ! I see the s i lver sheenOf thy broider’d , floating ves tCov

’ring ha lf thine ivory breast ;Which , O heavens ! I should see ,

But that crue l des tinyH as plac

’d a golden cu irass there ;Keep ing secre t what is fa ir .

Like sunbeams in'

a cloud le t nes tedThy locks in kn ight ly casque are res tedO

’er which bend four m i lky plumes

Like the gentle l i lly’s blooms

Springing from a cos t ly vase .

See wi th what a s tate ly paceComes thine a labaster steed ;S ervant of heroic deed !O’er his loins , his trapp ings glow

Like the northern l ights on snow .

Mount his back ! thy sword unsheath !S ign of the enchanter’s dea th ;Bane of every wicked spel l ;S i lencer of dragon’

s yell .Alas thou this wi lt never doThou art an enchantress too ,

And wi l t sure ly never spi llBlood of those whose eyes can kil l .

TO H OPE .

H EN by my sol i tary hearth I sit ,And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom ;When no fa ir dreams before my m ind’s eye flit ,

And the bare heath of l ife presents no bloom ;Swee t H ope , e therea l ba lm upon me shed ,And wave thy s i lver pinions o

’er my head .

Whene’er I wander , at the fa ll of night ,Where woven boughs shut out the moon’s bright ray,Should sad D espondency my mus ings fr ight ,And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,

23


Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof,And keep that fiend D espondence far aloof.

Should D isappointment , parent of D espair ,

S tri ve for her son to se iz e my care less heart ;When ,l ike a cloud , he s its upon the air ,

Preparing on his spe ll- bound prey to dartChace him away , swee t H ope , wi th visage bright ,And fright him as the morning fr ightens night !

Whene’er the fate of those I hold mos t dearTe lls to my fearful breas t a ta le of sorrow,

O bright-eyed H ope , my morbid fancy cheer ;Let me awhi le thy sweetes t comforts borrowThy heaven-born radiance around m e shed ,And wave thy s i lver p inions o

’er my head !

Should e’

er unhappy love my bosom pa in ,

From crue l parents , or re lentless fa ir ;0 le t me think it is not qui te in va inTo s igh out sonne ts to the m idnight air !Swee t H ope , e therea l ba lm upon me shed ,And wave thy s i lver pinions o

’er my head !

I n the long vista of the years to rol l ,Let me not see our country’s honour fade

0 le t m e see our land re ta in her soul ,H er pride , her freedom ; and not freedom’

s shade .

From thy bright eyes unusua l brightness shedBeneath thy pinions canopy my head !

Le t me not see the pa triot’s high bequest ,G reat l iberty ! how great in pla in at t ire !With the base purple of a court oppress’d ,

Bowing her head , and ready to e xp ireBut let me see thee s toop from heaven on wingsTha t fi ll the skies wi th s i lver gl i tter ings !

And as , in sparkling majes ty , a s tarG ilds the bright summ it of some gloomy cloud ;

Brightening the half veil’d face of hea ven afar :

So , when dark though ts my boding spiri t shroud ,Swee t H ope , ce les t ia l influence round me shed ,Wav ing thy s i lver pinions o’er my head .

FEBRUARY,1 8 1 5.

I M I TATI ON OF SPENSEB . 25

IMITAT ION OF SPENSER.

OW Morning from her orient chamber came ,And her firs t footsteps touch’d a verdant hill ;Crowning its lawny cres t wi th amber flame ,

Silv’ring the unta inted gushes of its r i l l ;Which , pure from mossy beds , did down dis till ,

And after parting beds of s imple flowers ,By many s treams a l ittle lake did fill

,

Which round its marge refl ected woven bowers ,And , in its m iddle space , a sky that never lowers .

There the king-fisher saw his plumage brightVic ing with fish of bri ll iant dye be low ;Whose s i lken fins , and golden sca les’ l igh tCas t upwa rd , through the waves , a ruby g lowThere saw the swan his neck of arched snow,

And oar’d himse lf a long wi th majesty ;

Spark led his je tty eye s ; his fee t did showBenea th the waves l ike Afric’

s ebony ,And on his back a fay reclin’d voluptuously.

Ah could I tel l the wonders of an is leThat in that fa irest lake had placed been ,

I could e’en D ido of her grief begu ile ;

Or rob from aged Lear his bitter teenFor sure so fa ir a place was never seen ,

Of all that ever charm’d romant ic eyeI t seem’

d an emera ld in the s i lver sheenOf the bright wa ters ; or as when on high ,

Through clouds of fl eecy white , laugh s the coerulean

The copy of the se s tanza s in Tom Keats’

s copy-book has a read ing in l ine 1 2

which ought perhaps to supe rsede the printed te xt of 1 8 1 7 ,nam e ly , g olden sca l es

Jig /it . I t se em s highly l ike ly tha t Kea ts rea l ly m eant to ca rry his a rcha ism to the

extent of m aking sca les a dissyl lable ,e spe cia l ly a s the m e tre is th us corre c ted .

Lord H ough ton s tates on the a uthority of the notes of Cha rles Arm itage Brown,

given to his lordship in 1 832 ,tha t th is is the ea r l iest known compos ition ofKea ts,

and was written whi le he was l iving a t Edmonton.

26 POEMS PUBL I SH ED I N 1 8 1 7

And all around it dipp’d luxurious lyS lopings of verdure through the glossy tide ,Which , as i t were in gent le am ity

,

Rippled de l ighted up the flowery s ide ;As if to glean the ruddy tears , it try’d ,

Which fe ll profusely from the rose- tree s tem !H aply i t was the workings of its pride ,

I n s trife to throw upon the shore a gem

Outvieing a ll the buds in Flora ’s d iadem .

t t t 0

WOMAN when I behold thee flippant , va in ,Incons tant , chil dish , proud , and full of fancies ;Wi thout tha t modes t softening that enhancesThe downcas t eye , repentant of the pa inTha t its m i ld l ight crea tes to heal aga inE

’en then , e late , my spirit leaps , and prances ,

E’en then my soul wi th e xul tation dances

For that to love , so long , I’ve dormant la in

But when I see thee meek , and k ind , and tender,H eavens ! how despera tely do I adore

Thy winning gr aces ;— to be thy defenderI hotly burn to be a Calidore

A very Red Cross Knight a s tout LeanderMight I be lov’d by thee l ike these of yore .

Light fee t , dark viole t eyes , and parted ha ir ;Soft dimpled hands , whi te neck , and creamy breas t,Are things on which the da zzled senses res t

Ti l l the fond , fi xed eyes , forge t they s tare .

From such fine pictures , heavens ! I cannot dareTo turn my adm ira tion ,

though unpossess’dThey be of wha t is worthy , though not dres t

I n love ly modes ty , and virtues rare .

Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark ;These lures I s tra ight forge t , e

’en ere I dine ,

Or thrice my palate moisten : but when I markSuch charms wi th m ild inte l l igences shine ,

(29 ) I n line 29 the transcr ipt reads g lassy for g lossy ; and this is l ike ly enough tob e r ight .

EPISTLES .

“ Among the rest a shephea rd (though but youngYe t hartned to his p ipe ) with a ll the ski l lH is few yeere s cou ld ,

began to fit his qu i ll.Britannia '

s Pastora ls. BROW'

NE.

TO GEORGE FELTON MATH EW .

WEET are the pleasures that to verse be long ,

And doubly swee t a brotherhood in song ;Nor can remembrance , Ma thew bring to view

A fate more pleas ing , a de l ight more trueThan tha t in which the brother Poe ts joy’

d ,

Who wi th combined powers , the ir wit employ’dTo ra ise a trophy to the drama’s muses .

The thought of this grea t partnership diffusesOver the gen ius lov ing heart , a fee l ingOf all that’s high , and great , and good , and healmg.

Too partia l fr iend fa in woul d I follow theePas t each hori zon of fine poesy ;Fa in would I echo back each pleasant noteAs o

’er S ici l ian seas , clear anthems float

’Mong the l ight skimm ing gondolas far parted ,Jus t when the sun his fa rewe ll beam has dartedBut ’

tis imposs ible ; far different ca resBeckon m e s ternly from soft Lydian airs ,And hold my facul t ies so long in thra l l ,Tha t I am oft in doubt whe ther a t allI shall aga in see Phoebus in the morningOr flush’d Aurora in the rosea te dawning !Or a white Na iad in a rippl ing stream ;Or a rapt seraph in a moonl ight beam ;

EP I STLE TO GEORGE FELTON MATH EW

Or aga in wi tness wha t with thee I ’ve seen ,

The dew by fa iry fee t swept from the green ,

After a night of some qua int jubileeWhich every elf and fay had come to see

When br ight process ions took the ir a iry marchBeneath the curved moon’s triumpha l arch .

But m ight I now each pass ing moment giveTo the coy muse , wi th m e she would not l iveI n this dark city , nor would condescend’Mid contradictions her de l ights to lend ,Should e’er the fine -ey

’d ma id to me be kind ,Ah surely it mus t be whene’er I findSome flowery spot , sequester’d , wi ld , romantic ,That often must have seen a poe t frantic ;Where oaks , that ers t the D ruid knew, are growing ,

And flowers , the glory of one day, are blowing ;Where the dark- leav’d laburnum’s droop ing clusters

Reflect athwart the stream the ir yellow lustres ,And intertwin’d the cass ia’s arms un ite ,With it s own drooping buds , but very white .

Where on one s ide are covert branches hung ,

’Mong which the nightingales have a lways sungI n leafy qu ie t : where to pry, a loof,Atween the p i llars of the sylvan roof,Would be to find where viole t beds were nestling ,

And where the bee with cows l ip be lls was wrestl ing .

There mus t be too a ruin dark , and gloomy ,To say joy not too much in all that’s bloomy .

Yet this is va in O Mathew lend thy aidTo find a place where I may gree t the ma idWhere we may soft humanity put on ,

And sit , and rhyme and think on Chatterton ;And that warm-hearted Shakspeare sent to mee t himFour laure ll’d spirits , heaven-ward to intrea t him .

With reverence would we speak of all the sages

Who have left streaks of l ight athwart the ir agesAnd thou shoulds t mora l i ze on M i lton’s blindness ,And mourn the fearful dearth of human kindnessTo those who strove with the bright golden wingOf genius , to flap away each s t ingThrown by the p i ti less world . We ne x t could tel lOf those who in the cause of freedom fe ll ;

29


Of our own Alfred , of H elve tian Te ll ;Of him whose name to ev’ry heart’s a solace ,H igh-m inded and unbending Wil l iam Wa llace .

While to the rugged north our mus ing turnsWe we ll m ight drop a tear for him , and Burns .

Fe lton wi thout incitements such as these ,H ow va in for m e the niggard Muse to teaseFor thee , she wi l l thy every dwe ll ing grace ,And make a sunshine in a shady placeFor thou was t once a flowere t bloom ing wi ld ,Close to the source , bright , pure , and undefil

’d ,Whence gush the streams of song : in happy hourCame chas te D iana from her shady bower ,Just as the sun was from the eas t upr is ing ;And , as for him some g ift she was devis ing ,

Behe ld thee , pluck’d thee , cas t thee in the s treamf o mee t her glorious bro ther’s gree ting beam .

I marvel much that thou has t never toldH ow, from a flower , into a fish of goldApollo chang

’d thee ; how thou ne x t dids t seemA black- ey’d swan upon the widen ing s tream ;And when thou firs t dids t in tha t m irror traceThe placid features of a human faceThat thou hast never told thy trave ls s trange ,And a ll the wonders of the mazy rangeO’

er pebbly crysta l , and o’er golden sands ;Kiss ing thy da ily food from Na iad’s pearly hands .

NOVEMBER, 1 8 1 5.

TO MY BROTH ER GEORGE .

ULL many a dreary hour have I pas t ,My bra in bewilder’d , and my m ind o’ercastWith heaviness ; in seasons when I ’ve thought

No spherey stra ins by me could e’er be caughtFrom the blue dome , though I to dimness ga zeOn the far depth where shee ted lightning plays ;This epist le seem s to have bee n composed at Marga te , for a very careful tran

script Of it in George Kea ts’

s hand-writing is subscribed Margate , Augus t

I n line 1 1 of th is copy we read strokes for str eaks, and in line 1 2faintly for dimly.

EP I S TLE TO GEORGE REATS. 31

Or , on the wavy grass outstretch’d supinely,Pry

’mong the stars , to s trive to think divine lyThat I should never hear Apollo’s song ,

Though feathery clouds were floa ting a ll a longThe purple wes t , and , two bright s treaks be tween,The golden lyre itse lf were dim ly seen :

That the s t i l l murmur of the honey beeWould never teach a rural song to me

Tha t the bright glance from beauty’s eyel ids slantingWould never make a lay of m ine enchanting ,Or warm my breas t wi th ardour to unfoldSome ta le of love and arms in time of old .

But there are times , when those that love the bay,Fly from al l sorrowing far , far away ;A sudden glow comes on them , nought they seeI n wa ter , earth , or air

, but poesy .

I t has been sa i d , dear G eorge , and true I hold it ,(For knight ly Spenser to Libertas told it, )That when a Poe t is in such a trance ,I n air he sees white coursers paw, and prance ,Bestr idden of gay knights , in gay appare l ,Who a t each other t i l t in playful quarre l ,And what we , ignorantly , shee t- l ightning call ,I s the swift open ing of the ir wide porta l ,When the br ight warder blows his trumpe t clear,Whose tones reach nought on earth but Poe t’s ear .

When these enchanted porta ls open wide ,And through the l ight the horsemen swift ly gl ide ,The Poe t’s eye can reach those golden halls ,And View the glory of the ir fes t ivalsThe ir ladies fa ir , tha t in the dis tance seem

Fit for the silv’ring of a seraph’s dream ;The ir r ich brimm’d goble ts , that incessant runLike the bright spots tha t move about the sun

And , when uphe ld , the wine from each br ight j arPours wi th the lustre of a fa ll ing s tar .

Ye t further off, are dim ly seen the ir bowers ,(24 ) S ee note to l ine 44 , p age 35.

(37 ) The transcrip t reads Or ig/it for air .

(42) H unt (see Append ix) notes t is compar ison of poured wine to a fa l l ingstar as an instance of Keats

’

s early “ tend ency to not ice everything too indiscrimih a te ly and without an eye to natura l p roportion and effect ; and the compar ison inverses 48-50 is charged with the same fau lt.

32 POEMS P UBL I SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

Of which , no mortal eye can reach the flowersAnd ’

tis r ight jus t , for we ll Apollo knows’Twould make the Poe t quarre l with the rose .

Al l that’s reveal’d from that far sea t of blisses ,

I s , the clear founta ins’ interchang ing kisses ,As gracefully descending , l ight and thin ,

Like s i lver s treaks across a dolph in’s fin ,

When he upswimme th from the cora l caves ,And sports wi th ha lf his ta il above the waves .

These wonders s trange he sees , and many more.Whose head is pregnant with poe tic lore .

Should he upon an evening ramble fareWith forehead to the soothing bree zes bare ,Would he naught see but the dark , s i lent blueWith a ll its diamonds trembling through and through ?Or the coy moon , when in the wavinessOf whites t clouds she does her beauty dress ,And s ta idly paces higher up , and higher ,Like a swee t nun in holy-day a t t ire ?Ah , yes much more would s tart into his sightThe revelries , and myster ies of nightAnd should I e ver see them , I wil l te l l youSuch tales as needs mus t wi th amazement spe ll you.

These are the l iving pleasures of the bardBut r icher far posterity’s award .

Wha t does he murmur wi th his la tes t brea th ,While his proud eye looks through the film of death ?What though I leave this dull , and earthly mould ,Yet sha ll my sp iri t lofty converse holdWith after t imes . The pa triot sha ll fee lMy s tern a larum , and unsheath his s tee l ;Or , in the senate thunder out my numbersTo s tartle princes from the ir easy s lumbers .

The sage wi l l m ingle with each mora l theme(48) I n the transcrip t ,

I s,the c lea r founta ins

,interchang ing kisses ,

pe haps the right re ad ing .

51 ;WW b e upspr ing et/i, in the transcript .

60 The transcr ip t reads dot): instead of does.

65—6) The transcript reads

And should I eve r view them , I wi l l te l l yeSuch Ta les

,as ne eds must with amazement spe ll ye.

(7 7 ) I n the transcript, tlie mor a l tlzeme.

EPI STLE TO GEORGE KEATS .

My happy thoughts sententious ; he wil l teemWi th lofty periods when my verses fire him ,

And then I ’l l s toop from heaven to inspire him .

Lays have I left of such a dear de l ightThat ma ids will s ing them on the ir br ida l night .Gay villagers , upon a mom of May,When they have tir’d the ir gentle l imbs wi th play,And form

’d a snowy cir cle on the grass ,And plac

’d in m idst of all that love ly lassWho chosen is the ir queen ,

— with her fine headCrowned with flowers purple , white , and red :

For there the l il ly , and the musk- rose , s ighing ,

Are emblem s true of hapless lovers dying :

Between her breasts , tha t never yet fe lt trouble ,A bunch of violets full blown ,

and double ,Serene ly s leep : she from a caske t takesA l ittle book , —and then a joy awakesAbout each youthful heart , — wi th s tifled cries ,And rubbing of white hands , and sparkl ing eyesFor she’s to read a tale of hopes , and fears ;One tha t I foster’d in my youthful yearsThe pearls , that on each glis t’ning c ircle s leep ,Gush ever and anon wi th s i lent creep ,

Lur’d by the innocent dimples . To swee t res t

Sha ll the clear babe , upon its mother’s breas t ,Be lull

’d wi th songs of m ine . Fa ir world , adieu !

Thy dale s , and hills , are fading from my viewSwift ly I mount , upon wide spreading pinions ,Far from the narrow bounds of thyfiominions .

Full joy I fee l , while thus I cleave the air ,

That my soft verse wi l l charm thy daughters fair ,And warm thy sons ! Ah , my dear fr iend and brother ,

Could I , at once , my mad ambit ion smother ,For tas t ing joys l ike these , sure I should beH app ier , and dearer to s oc ie ty .

At t imes ,’tis true , I

’ve fe lt re l ief from pa inWhen some br ight thought has darted through my bra in

Through all tha t day I ’ve fe l t a greate r pleasureThan if I’d brought to l ight a hidden treasure .

As to my sonnets , though none e lse should heed them ,

I fee l de l ighted , s t i l l , that you should read them .

(86) The transcr ipt readsPlac ing in m idst thereof, tha t happy lass .

( 1 1 8) The transcript reads wil l for s/zou ld.

33


Of late , too, I have had much calm enjoyment ,S tretch

’d on the grass at my bes t lov’d employmentOf scr ibbl ing l ines for you . These things I thoughtWhile , in my face , the freshes t bree ze I caught .E’en now I

’m pillow’d on a bed of flowers

That crowns a lofty clift , which proudly towersAbove the ocean-waves . The s ta lks ; and blades ,Chequer my table t wi th the ir qu i ver ing shades .

On one s ide is a fie ld of drooping oats ,

Through which the poppies show the ir scarle t coats ;So pert and use less , that they bring to m indThe scarlet coa ts tha t pe ster human-kind .

And on the other s ide , outspread , is seen

Ocean’s blue mantle streak’d with purple , and green.

Now’tis I see a canvass

’d ship , and now

Mark the bright s i lver curl ing round her prow.

I see the lark down-dropp ing to his nes t ,And the broad winged sea -

gull never at res t ;For when no more he spreads his feathers free ,H is breas t is dancing on the res t less sea .

Now I direct my eyes into the west ,Which at this moment is in sunbeams dres tWhy wes tward turn ? ’Twas but to say adieu !’Twas but to kiss my hand , dear George , to you !

AUGUST,1 8 1 6.

TO CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE .

FT have you seen a swan superbly frown ing ,

.And with proud breas t his own white shadow crowningH e s lants his neck beneath the waters bright

So s i lently , i t seems a beam of l ightCome from the gala xy : anon he sports ,With outspread wings the Na iad Zephyr courts ,Or ruffles a ll the surface of the lakeI n s triving from its crys ta l face to takeSome diamond water drops , and them to treasure

(1 25) The transcript reads ,

ocean’

s waves .

1 39 ) The transcr ipt read s towa r ds t/ze west.

Cha rles Cowden C larke wa s born a t Enfie ld on the 1 sth of D ecember 1 7 87 ; sotha t he was in his twenty-ninth year when the y goung p

oe t addre ssed this ep istle to

him. H e d ied a t Villa Nove llo Genoa , on theyr3th 0 March 1 87 7 , in his ninetie th

year.

36 POEM S PUBLI SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

Nor should I now, but that I ’ve known you longThat you firs t taught me a ll the sweets of songThe grand , the swee t , the terse , the free , the fine

Wha t swe ll’d with pathos , and what right divineSpenser ian vowe ls that e lope with ease ,And floa t a long l ike birds o

’er summer seas

M iltonian storms , and more , M i l tonian tenderness ;M ichae l in arm s , and more , meek E ve’s fa ir s lenderness .

Who read for me the sonne t swe ll ing loudlyUp to its cl ima x and then dying proudly ?Who found for me the grandeur of the ode ,

G rowing , l ike Atlas , s tronger from its load ?Who let me tas te that more than cordial dram ,

The sharp , the rap ier-pointed epigram ?Show’d me that epic was of all the king ,

Round , va s t , and spanning al l l ike Saturn’s ring ?

You too uphe ld the ve il from Cl io’s beauty ,And po inted out the pa triot’s s tern duty ;The m ight of Alfred , and the shaft of Te ll ;The hand of Brutus , tha t so grandly fe l lUpon

'

a tyrant’s head . Ah had I never seen ,

Or known your kindness , wha t m ight I have been ?Wha t my enjoym ents in my youthfu l years ,Bereft of all tha t now my l ife endears ?And can I e’er these benefits forget ?And can I e’er repay the friendly debt ?No , doubly no ; yet should these rhymings please ,I s ha ll rol l on the grass with two- fold ease :For I have long time been my fancy feedingWi th hopes that you would one day think the readingOf my rough verses not an hour m isspent ;Should it e’er be so , what a r ich contentSome weeks have pass’d s ince last I saw the sp iresI n lucent Thames reflected : warm des iresTo see the sun o

’erpeep the eas tern dimness ,

And morning shadows s treak ing into s l imnessAcross the lawny fie lds ,

and pebbly water ;To mark the t ime as they grow broad , and shorter ;To fee l the air tha t plays about the hills ,And sips its freshness from the l itt le ri lls ;To see high , golden corn wave in the l ightWhen Cynthia sm i les upon a summ er

’s night ,

And peers among the cloudle ts je t and whi te ,(82 9 4) The firs t ed ition reads mispent and cloudlet

’

s .

EP I STLE TO CH ARLES COWD EN CLARKE . 37

As though she were recl ining in a bed

Of bean blossoms , in heaven freshly shed .

No sooner had I stepp’d into these pleasures

Than I began to think of rhymes and measures

The air that floa ted by me seem’d to sayWr i te thou wi l t never have a better day.

And so I did . When many l ines I ’d wr it ten ,

Though wi th the ir grace I was not oversm it ten ,

Ye t , as my hand was warm , I thought I’d be tterTrus t to my feel ings , and write you a le tter .

Such an a ttemp t requir’d an insp irat ionOf a pecul iar sort , a consummation ;Which , had I fe lt , these scribblings m ight have beenVerses from which the soul would never weanBut many days have pas t s ince las t my heartWas warm

’d luxurious ly by divine Mozart ;

By Arne de l ighted , or by H ande l madden’d ;

Or by the song of Erin pierc’d and sadden’d

What time you were‘before the mus ic s itt ing ,

And the r ich notes to each sensation fitt ing .

S ince I have wa lk’d with you through shady lanesThat freshly term ina te in open pla ins ,And revel’d in a cha t that ceased notWhen at night-fa ll among your books we gotN0, nor when supper came , nor after that ,Nor when reluctant ly I took my hat ;N0,

nor til l cordially you shook my handMid-way between our homes your accents blandSti ll sounded in my ears , when I no more

Could hear your footsteps touch the grav’ly floor .

Some t imes I los t them , and then found aga in ;You chang

’d the footpath for the grassy pla in .

I n those s ti l l moments I have wish’d you joysThat we l l you know to honor Life’s very toysWith him ,

”sa id I , wi l l take a pleasant charm ;

I t cannot be that ought wi l l work him harm .

”

These thoughts now come o’er me with all the ir m ight

Aga in I shake your hand , - friend Charles , good night .SEPTEMBER, 1 8 1 6.

( 1 30) H unt says (see Append ix) , in evident a l lus ion to Keats'

s prowess as a

boxer and read ine ss to back his fr iends we can only add,without any disre

spect to the graver warm th of our young poet , that if Ought a ttempted it, Oughtwou ld find he had stout work to do 'with more than one person.

”

The student wi llp robably turn to the posthumous poem s and compare these epist les with that toJohn H ami lton Reynolds written in 1 8 1 8.

SONNETS .

TO MY BROTH ER GEORGE .

ANY the wonders I this day have seen

The sun , when firs t he kis t away the tearsThat fill’d the eyes of morn the laure ll

’d peers

Who from the feathery gold of evening lean ;Among the la te Joseph S eve rn’

s Kea ts re l ics were a few leaves torn from a small

ob long pocke t note -book , bearing penc i l led sketches by Kea ts of rude figures &c .,

and wha t seem to b e the firs t d rafts (in penc i l a lso) of this sonnet and the two quatra ins of the sonne t To my B r ot/zer s . The e rasures a re not such as to ind ica te anywant of fluency. I have co l la ted this dra ft wi th a care fu l transcript made by GeorgeKea ts him se lf

,and w1 th anothe r in Tom Kea ts

’

s copy-book . This last doe s notvary from the p rinted text , and bea rs no da te ; but the othe r transcript , l ike tha t ofthe Epis tle to George Ke a ts , is subscribed Marga te , August, 1 8 1 6. I n the draft ,l ine 3 at first stood unfinished

That trembled on the morning’

s eye

and thenThat trembled in the eye ofMorn

and fina l lyThat hung on Morning ’

s cheek— the laure ll’

d Peers ,

which is the read ing of George Keats’

s transc ript. I n l ine 4 we have l t for Whoin the transcript ; whi le the draft reads T/zat m tke P a leing (a lte red to fl att ery )g old. I n l ine 6 of the draft, Dang er s stands cance lled in favour of Rocks. Line 8in both draft and transcr ipt is

Must muse on what’s to come and what has been.

I n l ine 1 0 the draft reads silver for silken,and there is a cance lled line 1 1

G iving the world such snatches of de l ight ,for which the read ing of the text is subst ituted . The fina l coup let was orig inal ly

The S ights have warmed m e but without thy love ,Wha t J oy in Ea rth or Sea or H eaven above ?

This is cance l led in the dra ft in favour of the rea ding of the text. I n l ine 1 3 thetranscr ipt has thoug hts for tnoug /zt. Even the sma l l beginning of lunar impersonat ion that we see in l ines 1 0 to 1 2 has its inte rest in the menta l h isto of one who

was born to luxuriate through such a harvest'

of luscious thought an imagery asEndymion.

S ONNETS . 39

The ocean wi th its vastness , its blue green,

I ts ships , its rocks , its caves , its hopes , its fears ,I ts voice mysterious , which whoso hears

Mus t think on wha t wi l l be , and what has been .

E’en now, dear George , whil e this for you I wri te ,Cynthia is from her s i lken curta ins peep ing

So scantly , tha t it seems her bridal night ,And she her half- discover’d revels keeping .

But what , without the soc ial thought of thee ,Would be the wonders of the sky and sea ?

TO

HAD I a man’

s fair form , then m ight my s ighsBe echoed swift ly through tha t i vory she l lThine ear , and find thy gentle heart ; so we ll

Would pass ion arm m e for the enterpri ze :But ah ! I am no knight whose foeman dies ;No cu irass gl is tens on my bosom’

s swe ll ;I am no happy shepherd of the del lWhose l ips have trembled with a m a iden’s eyes .

Yet mus t I dote upon thee , ca l l thee sweet ,Sweeter by far than H ybla’s hon ied rosesWhen steep

’d in dew rich to intox icat ion.

Ah ! I wil l tas te that dew, for me’t is mee t ,

And when the moon her pal l id face discloses ,I ’l l ga ther some by spe l ls , and incantat ion .

Tom Keats’

s copy-book conta ins a transcript o f this sonnet showing no varia t ionin the text

,e xcept by a copyist’s e rror a t the end ,

the la st word be ing incanta tions.The re is no head ing b e ond the word Sonnet, no date , and no c lue to the ident ityof the person addressed

}:

4o POEMS PUBL I SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

WR I TTEN ON TH E DAY THAT MR . LE I GH H UNT LEFT PR I SON.

WH AT though , for showing truth to flatter’d s ta te ,Kind H unt was shut in pr ison , ye t has he ,I n his immorta l spirit , been as free

As the sky- searching lark , and as e la te .

M inion of grandeur ! think you he did wa i t ?Think you he nought but prison wa lls did see ,Ti ll , so unwill ing , thou unturn

’dst the key?

Ah ,no ! far happier , nobler was his fate

The H unts left prison on the z ud of February 1 8 1 5,accord ing to Le igh H unt

'

s

Own account,though Thornton H unt says the 3rd a t page 9 9 ,

Vo lume I, of the

Cor r espondence The express ions emp loyed towa rds Le igh H unt in thissonne t a re not

,one would say,

intempe ra te ; and ye t , add ing the innocuous phrasein S leep and P oetry ( l ines 354

I t was a poe t’

s house who keeps the keysOf p leasure '

s temp le ,

and the fact tha t the l ittle vo lume was ded icated to H unt,Profe ssor W i lson

,we ll described by H orne as the c lown of B la ckwood

’

s M ag az ine ,

"found suffic ient ground

for one of the unseem l ies t of the coarse p lea santries de l ive red in the character ofChristophe r North ”

to wit the a l legat ion tha t Keats fed H unt on the oil cakesof flattery ”

t i l l he became fl a tu lent of p ra ise . Kea ts'

s rea l offence in the eye s ofW i lson was of course his friendship with such a rad ica l as H unt

,and his ventur

ing to charac te rize as showing truth to fl attc r’

d state the art icle in Tlze E x aminer

for which H unt and his brotherwere imprisoned for two years and fined a thousandounds . What H unt had written was the t ruth , no doubt ; b ut it wa s unfortunateor Kea ts

,a t his s tart in l iterature ,

to subscr ibe to such tru th-te l l ing a s this,for in

stance,ln which H unt trans lated Tlie M or ning P ost

’

s language of adu lation intothat of truthWha t person ,

unacqua inted with the true sta te of the case,wou ld imag ine ,

in

read ing these a stound ing eu log ie s , that this G lory of the people wa s the subjectofm i l l ions o f shrugs and reproaches l tha t this Exc ite r of de s ire [b ravo lMe ss ieurs o f the P ost /] th is Adonis in love l ine ss wa s a corpu lent m an o f

fifty ! in short , this de l Ig /ztfu l , bl issfu l , wise , p lea sur a é le , lzonour a é le ,vir tuous

,

tr ue,and immor ta l prince ,

wa s a vio la tor of his word ,a l ibertine ove r head and ea rs

in d isgra ce ,a desp ise r of dom e stic t ies

,the compan ion of gamble rs and dem ireps ,

a man who has just c losed ha lf a century withou t one s ing le c la im on the gra t itudeof his country , or the respec t of pos ter i ty !Even towa rds such a ruthle ss po lem ic a s Profe ssor W i lson one must seek to b ejust ; and I do not doubt tha t he fe lt ca lled upon to Oppose the H unt se t with every

pu lsa tion of a hea rt as rough a s Esau’

s hand,b u t loya l enough to those po li

ticians whom Kea ts ca l led the Pr ince Regent 's wre tched c rew.

”

I t was rea l ly , Itake it , from this poor l itt le sonne t tha t the anim us o f the predom inant p re ss partyaga ins t Keats orig inated. An art ic le ce lebra t ing “

The D eparture of the Proprie tors

S ONN E TS . 4 1

I n Spenser’s halls he stray

’d , and bowers fair ,Cull ing enchanted flowers ; and he flew

With daring M i l ton through the fie lds of air

To reg ions of his own his genius trueTook happy fl ights . Who sha ll his fame impairWhen thou art dead , and all thy wretched crew?

OW many bards g i ld the lapses of t ime !

A few of them have ever been the foodOf my de l ighted fancy , - I could brood

Over the ir beaut ies , earthly , or sublime

And often , when I sit m e down to rhyme ,

These wi l l in throngs before my m ind intrudeBut no confus ion , no disturbance rude

D o they occas ion ; ’t is a pleas ing chim e .

So the unnumber’d sounds tha t e vening s tore ;The songs of birds the whisp

’ring of the leaves

The voice of waters the great bel l that heavesWi th solemn sound , — and thousand others more ,

Tha t distance of recogni zance bereaves ,Make p leas ing mus ic , and not wi ld uproar .

of this Pape r from Prison occup ied the first page of Tlie E x aminer for Sunday,

the 5ih ofFebruary 1 8 1 5. The opening is as fo llows :“The two years’ imprisonment inflicted on the Propr ie tors of this Pape r for

d iffer ing with the M orning P ost on the m erits of the PR I NCE REGENT,e xp ired on

Thursday last ; and on tha t day a ccording ly we qu itted our respect ive J a l ls .

”On

the subject of how they fe lt on the occas ion ,H unt excuse s himse lf from pa rt ien

larity, b ut Observe s with characte r ist ic p lea santness , “there is a fee l ing of space

and of a iry c learne ss about eve rything , which is a lterna te ly de l ightfu l and p a inful . ”The grea te r part of the art icle is far from be ing in H unt

’

s best m anne r ; but the end

shou ld s tand on record he re : “ We fe e l that we have d r iven another na il or two

into the o ld oaken ed ifice of English L iberty ; and ifwe have rapped ou r fingers a

l itt le in the Operat ion , it is on ly a laugh and a wr ing of the hands,and a l l is as it

should b e .

H unt a dduces the first l ine (see Append ix) as an examp le of Keats’

s sense of

the prope r va r ie ty of ve rsifica tion without a due cons ide ra t ion of its p r inc ip les ,”and very j ustly adds

,

“ by no contrivance of any sort can we p revent th is fromjump ing out o f the hero ic m easure into me re rhythm ica l ity. C larke records tha twhen this and one or two other early poem s of Kea ts we re first shown by him to

H unt,H orace Sm ith

,be ing p re sent, rem a rked on the 1 3th l ine , What a. we llo

condensed express ion for a youth so young !

4 2 POEMS PUBL I SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

TO A FR I END WHO SENT ME SOME ROSES .

S la te I rambled in the happy fie lds ,What t im e the sky- lark shakes the tremulous dew

From his lush clover covert ; when anew

Adventurous knights take up the ir dinted shie ldsI saw the swee test flower wild na ture yie lds ,A fresh -blown musk-rose ; ’

t was the firs t tha t threwI ts swee ts upon the summer : graceful it grew

As is the wand that queen T itania wie lds .

And , as I feas ted on its fragrancy ,I thought the garden- rose it far excell’d

But when , 0 Wel ls thy roses came to me

My sense with the ir de l i ciousness was spell’d

Soft voi ces had they , that wi th tender pleaWhisper

’d of peace , and truth , and friendliness unquell’d .

This sonne twas addressed to Cha rles We l ls,the author of S tories af ter N a tur e ,

yosep/i and lzis B r et/iron,and a few fug it ive compos itions . H is grea t d rama t ic

poem , 7 0sepfi and lzis B r et/zr en, probably came ou t la te in 1 823, for though the

tit le -

page is dated 1 824 , the labe l a t the back is dated 1 823. The book was left inoblivion t i l l wi thin the last few years . We l ls ,

however , l ived to find himse lf famous

in 1 87 6, on the issue ofa revised ed 1 tion ,which I had the p leasure of fitt ing for and

see ing through the pre ss for him . H e d ied a t Marse i l les on the 1 7 th of February1 87 9 ,

in his 7 8th yea r , having fina l ly corre cted and interpo lated a copy of the newed i tion of his grea t work for some future re-e d it ion . A s ing le sentence from one of

his la st le tters to me g ives more ins ight into his character than anything of manyt imes grea ter e xtent tha t cou ld b e added he re

I n s topp ing J oe ( la tte rly he wrote of 7 0sep/z and lzis B r etnr en in this fam i liarway a s a ru le

, and under the term stop he inc luded the whole work of revis ion and

see ing through the p ress ) I n s top ing J oe - if another fifty years does not (andit wil l not) stop him ge t rid of a l l t e clones and d ids and thou and thines youposs ibly can.

For eve r and a day yoursJoseph .

I n Tom Keats'

s copy-book this sonnet is headed To Char les We l ls on rece ivinga bunch of rose s

,

"and dated June 29 , I n this head ing the word ful l-o

stands cance lled before r oses. The only variation beyond spe l ling and po inting isin the last l ine , which is

Whispered of truth, H umanity and Fr iend l iness unque ll'd .


May seem a span ; let me thy vigils keep’Mongs t boughs pavillion’

d , where the deer’s swift

S tartles the wild bee from the fox—glove be ll .But though I ’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee ,Ye t the swee t converse of an innocent m ind ,Whose words are images of thoughts refin

’d,I s my soul’s pleasure ; and i t sure mus t beAlmost the highest bliss of human-kind ,When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee .

TO MY BROTH ERS .

MALL, busy flam es play through the fresh la id coals ,And the ir fa int crack l ings o

’er our s i lence creep

Like whispers of the household gods that keepA gent le emp ire o

’er fra terna l souls .

And while , for rhymes , I search around the poles ,Your eyes are fix

’d , as in poe tic s leep ,

Upon the lore so voluble and deep ,

That aye at fal l of night our care condoles .

I n Tom Kea ts s copy-book this sonne t is headed Wr itten to his Bro the r Tomon his B irthday , and da ted

,

“Nov. 1 8

,I n the la st l ine the transc ript

reads p la ce for face. The sonne t seems to have been origina l ly written in p enc i l Inthe note -book refe rred to at page 61 , imm ed ia te ly a fter the sonnet to G eorge Kea ts ;b ut the two qua tra ins , which fil l one page ,

a re a l l that I found o f this sonne t amongthe Keats relics of S evern. The qua tra ins stand fina l ly thus in the draft

Sma l l flam es ar e peep ing through the fresh la id coal s

And the ir fa int Crackling o’

e r our S i lence c reeps

L ike Whispers of the H ouseho ld God tha t keepsA gent le emp ire o '

er fra terna l Sou lsAnd whi le for Rhymes I search a round the PolesYour Eyes a re fixed as in poet ic s leepUpon the Page s Vo luble and deep

Tha t aye a t fa l l o f N ight ou r care condo les .

There is a cance l led read ing a t l ine 2,unfinished

W ith a fa int Crackling head d istract.and anothe r at l ine 5

And while I am thinking of a Rhyme ;

and here sear c/zing was subs tituted for t/zint ing of, before the who le was cance lledin favour of the read ing of the text.

SONNE TS . 45

This is your birth-dayTom , and I rejoiceTha t thus i t passes smoothly , quietly .

Many such eves of gently whisp’ring noise

May we toge ther pass , and ca lm ly tryWhat are this world’s t rue joys , ere the grea t voice ,From its fair face , shall bid our spiri ts fly .

NOVEMBER 1 8,1 81 6.

KEEN , fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and thereAmong the bushes half leafless , and dry ;The s tars look very cold about the sky,

And I have many miles on foot to fare .

Yet feel I li ttle of the cool bleak air ,Or of the dead leaves rustling dreari ly ,Or of those s i lver lamps tha t burn on high ,

Or of the dis tance from home’s pleasant la ir :For I am brimfu ll of the friendlinessThat in a li ttle cot tage I have found ;

Of fa ir-ba ir’d M i l ton’s e loquent dis tress ,

And all his love for gent le Lycid drown’dOf lovely Laura in her l ight green dress ,And faithful Pe trarch glorious ly crown’d.

I‘O one who has been long in city pent ,

’Tis very sweet to look into the fa irAnd open face of heaven , to breathe a prayerFul l in the sm ile of the blue firmament .

Who is more happy , when , with heart’s content ,C larke records that this sonnet was written on the occasion of Keats’s first b e

commg a cqua inted with Le igh H unt at the Cottage in the Va le of H ea lth,H amp

stead .

1‘ I n a transcript in the hand-writ ing of George Ke ats this sonnet is subscribed as

Written 1 n the F1 e lds June 1 8 1 6. The variat ions shown by this m anuscrip t ,no doubt correct ly copied from the original, are ,

in l ine 2,upon for into; in l ine

4 irig lzt for blue ; in l ine 5 near t'

s is v ’

n correctly,though lzear ts is wrong ly

POEMS PUBL I SHED I N 1 8 1 7 .

Fatigued he s inks into somepleasant lairOf wavy grass , and reads a debona ir

And gent le tale of love and languishment ?Re turning home at evening , with an ear

Catching the notes of Philome l , an eyeWatching the sa i ling c loudle t’s bright career ,H e mourns that day so soon has gl ided by

E’en l ike the passage of an ange l’s tearThat falls through the clear ether s i lently.

ON FI RST LOOKI NG I NTO CHAPMAN’S HOMER .

‘

UCH have I trave ll’d in the realms of gold ,And many goodly s tates and kingdoms seen ;Round many wes tern is lands have I been

Which bards in feal ty to‘ lApollo hold .

Oft of one wide e xpanse had I be en toldTha t deep-brow’d H omer rul

’d as his demesne ;Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

T i ll I heard Chapman speak out loud and boldp r inted in the 1 8 1 7 volume ; in l ine 6 upofga for into some ; in l ine 7 some for a ; inl ine 9 Retur ning , t/zoug /ztfu l , lzomewar d for Returning liame at evening ; l ine 1 1 is

Fo l lowing the wafted Cloud let’s l ight career ;and l ine 1 4 is

Tha t droppeth through the I’Ether S i lently.

I n Tom Keats’

s copy-book the only varia tion from the p rinted text of 1 8 1 7 is inl ine 4 ,

br ig/it for blue . I t is c lear the Sonne t wa s carefu l ly revised for the 1 8 1 7it is cur ious Kea ts did not find out that he was indebted to Mi lton for

As one who long in populous C ityzine referredh him a t 1 0

into Chapman’

s H ome r ,"and the

Locke r’s m anusc t, l ine 5 opens

6 original ly read lzic/z lowp r ow'

dH omer ; but deep is substituted r l ine 7 we read both in the manu

script and in the copy—bookYe t could I neve r judge wha t m en cou ld m ean.

I n l ine 1 1 the autograph m anuscript reads wond'

ring eyes for eag le eyes . The vari

S ONN E TS . 4 7

Then fel t I l ike some wa tcher of the skiesWhen a new plane t swims into his ken ;

Or l ike s tout Corte z when with eagle eyesH e s tar

’d at the Pacific and all his men

Look’d at each other wi th a wild surm ise

S i lent , upon a peak in D ar ien .

a tion in l ine 7 is of va lue in connexion with one of the rem iniscence s of C larke , whosays the seventh l ine or ig ina l ly S tood thus :

Yet cou ld I never te l l what men could meanand that Keats substituted the read ing of the text because he cons idered the firs tre ad ing “ ba ld

,and too s imp ly wonder ing. But he m ay have been a ctua ted by

another reason a lso,a s thus : in an a rticle headed Young Poe ts in Tb e E x aminer

for the I st ofD e cember 1 8 1 6, H unt had spoken in high pra ise of a se t ofKea ts’

s m an

uscript poems shown to him ,and had pr inted this one a s g iven in Tom Ke ats

’

s

copy-book, with the remark tha t it conta ined one incorrec t rhyme . The onlyd isputable rhym e is that ofmean and demesne

,and tha t is got rid o f by the revis ion.

The rest of the composition ,

”

says H unt,with the e xcep tion of a l itt le vagueness

in ca l l ing the reg ions of poe try ‘the rea lm s of go ld ,

’

we do not hesita te to p ronounceexce l lent

,espec ia lly the last six l ines . The word swims is comp le te ; and the who le

conc lus ion is equa l ly powerfu l and qu iet ." H e appears to have becom e re conc i ledto the rea lm s o f go ld ”

in la ter years , to judge from the c lose of tha t cha rm ingwork I mag ina tion and Fancy . Speaking of th is sonnet he says a t page 345 ( I quotethe third e d ition

,dated Staged ha s been thought by some too vro lent

,

but it is p_1;ecise l the ord re uired by the n. The Spania rd was too orig ina l and ardent a man eit er to 00 or 0 a ffec t to 1 0k

,co ld ly superior to it . H is

eag le eyes are from l ife,a s may b e seen by Titian’

s portra it of him . Of the la st

l ine,which ends the poe try of I mag ina tion and Fancy,

H unt says We leave thereade r s tand ing upon it , with a ll the ill im itable world of thought and fee l ing beforehim

, to wh ich his imaginat ion wi l l have been brought, wh ile journeying through

these rea lms of go ld .

The last fou r l ines seem to b e a rem iniscence of Robertson’

s H istory ofAm er ica,

recorded by Clarke a s among Kea ts’

s la ter schoo l read ing ; b ut , as M r . Tennysonpo inted out to M r. Pa lgrave (Golden Tr ea sury,

1 861, page 320) the refe rence Shou ld

rea l ly b e to Ba lboa . From H unt’

s remark about the portra it it is c lear this wa s nomere s l ip of flit

I

pen : Cog e z was the m an whom Kea ts’

s imag ina t ion saw in the

s itua t ion,and it is to b e p resum ed tha t his memory be trayed h 1m

,for it se em s un

like ly that he met with the story e lsewhere , told of Cortez. The p assage in Robert

eo

l

n’

s H istory of America (Works,ed it ion of 1 8 1 7 , Vo lume V I I I

, page 287 ) is a so lows :At length the I nd ians a ssured them ,

that from the top of the next m ounta in theyShou ld d iscover the ocean which was the object of the ir wishes . When

,with infinite

toi l,they had c l imbed up the greater pa rt of tha t steep a scent

,Balboa comm anded

his m en to ha lt,and advanced a lone to the summ it , tha t he mighn e the first who

shou ld enjoy a spectac le wh ich he had so long de s ired . As soon as he behe ld theSou th S ea stre tching in end less prosp ect be low him , he fe ll on his knee s , and l ift ing uphis hands to heaven

, returned thanks to God ,who had conducted him to a discov

ery so benefic ia l to his country , and s o honourable to him se lf. H is fo l lowers,ob

serving his transports of joy, rushed forward to jo in in his wonder,exu ltat ion

,and

gr a ti tude .

"

An a ccount of this inc ident wi ll a lso b e found in Washington I rving’

s Voyag esand D iscoveries of tbe Companions of Columbus . The reader wi ll of course turn tothe Sonne t to H om er among the posthumous Poem s of 1 8 1 8

,and read it in conne x

ion with this one published by Kea ts . I t is not d ifficu lt to de c ide which is the fine r ;b ut that , though not so great a sonne t as th is , has some l ines that a re hardly indeedto b e surpassed.

4 8 POEM S PUBL I S H ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

ON LEAV I NG SOME FR I END S AT AN EARLY H OUR .

‘

I VE me a golden pen , and let m e leanOn heap

’d up flowers , in regions clear , and

Bring me a table t whiter than a s tar ,Or hand of hymning ange l , when ’

t is seen

The s i lver s tr ings of heavenly harp atween

And let there gl ide by many a pearly car ,P ink robes , and wavy ha ir , and diamond jar ,

And ha lf discovered wings , and glances keen .

The while le t mus ic wander round my ears ,

And as i t reaches each de l ic ious ending ,

Le t me wri te down a l ine of glor ious tone ,And full of many wonde rs of the SpheresFor wha t a he igh t my Spi ri t is contending !

’Tis not content so soon to be alone .

ADDRESSED TO H AVDON . 1

HI GH M I ND EDNESS , a jea lousy for good ,A lov ing -kindne ss for the grea t man

’s fame ,

Dwe lls here and there with people of no name .

I n noisome a lley , and in pathless woodAnd where we think the truth leas t unders tood ,Oft may be found a S ingleness of aim ,

”

That ought to frighten into hooded shameA money-mong’ring , pi tiable brood .

H ow glorious this affect ion for the cause

Of stedfas t genius , to i l ing ga llantly .

This sonne t a lso be longs to the Cotta ge in the V a le of H ea lth, as we are led to

infe r from C la rke ’

s m ention o f it in connex ion w ith No . I X. and No . XV .

t Benjam in Robe rt H aydon,his tor ica l pa inter ,

wa s born on the 26th of Janua ry1 7 86, and d ied by his ownhand on the 22nd ofJune 1 846.

SONNETS . 4 9

What when a stout unbending champion awes

Envy , and Ma l ice to the ir nat ive s tyUnnumber’d souls breathe out a st i l l applause ,Proud to behold him in his country’s eye .

ADDRESSED TO TH E SAME .

*

REAT Spiri ts now on earth are sojourning ;H e of the cloud , the ca taract , the lake ,

Who on H e lvellyn’s summ i t , wide awake ,

Catches his freshness from Archange l’s wingH e of the rose , the violet , the spring ,

The socia l sm i le , the cha in for Freedom’s sake

And 10 — whose s tedfastness would never takeA m eaner sound than Raphae l’s whispering .

And other spiri ts there are standing apar t

Upon the forehead of the age to come ;

These , these wi l l give the world another heart ,And other pulses . H ear ye not the hum

Of m ighty workingsListen awhile ye nat ions , and be dumb .

ON TH E GRASSH OPPER AND CR I CKET .

'

j‘

H E poe try of earth is never deadWhen a ll the birds are fa int wi th the hot sun,

And hide in cooling trees , a voi ce wil l runFrom hedge to hedge about the new-mown meadTha t is the Grasshopper’s he takes the lead

I nTom Kea ts’

s copy—book this Sonnet is headed simp ly Sonnet and is da ted

1 8 1 6 me re ly. There a re no va r iat ions . I t is a lmost supe rfluous to identify thetwo m en referred to in the first six l ines _ Wordsworth and Le igh H unt .

1“ C larke records that this sonne t wa s wr itten a t Le igh H unt

’

s cottage ,on a cha l

lenge from H unt. See Clarke '

s a ccount in his Reco l lect ions of Keats ; and see

so POEMS PUBL I SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

I n summer luxury , - he has never doneWith his de l ights ; for when tired out wi th fun

H e rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed .

The poe try of earth is ceas ing neverOn a lone winter evening , when the frostH as wrought a s i lence , from the stove there

The Cri cket’s song , in warmth increas ing ever ,And seems to one in drows iness half los t ,The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hil ls .

D ECEMBER 30,1 8 1 6.

To Roscmsxo .

‘

COD Kosciusko , thy great name a loneI s a full harves t whence to reap high feel ing ;I t com es upon us l ike the glorious pea l ing

Of the wide spheres — an everlas t ing tone .

And now i t te lls me , tha t in worlds unknown ,

The names of heroes , burs t from clouds conceal ing ,

And changed to harmonies , for ever s teal ingThrough cloudless blue , and round ea ch S i lver throne .

I t tells me too , that on a happy day,When some good spirit wa lks upon the earth ,Thy name with Alfred’s and the grea t of yore

G ently comm ing l ing , gives tremendous birthTo a loud hymn , tha t sounds far , far away

To where the grea t God l ives for evermore .

Append ix for H unt’

s Sonne t. Both Sonne ts appeared toge ther in l e E x aminer

for the 2 1 5t of S eptember 1 8 1 7 ; but Kea ts '

s vo lum e had a lready appeared in Juneof tha t year .

This sonnet was published in Tbe E x aminer for the 1 6th of February 1 8 1 7 . The

punctuat ion d iffe rs s light ly from tha t of the 1 8 1 7 vo lume ; and in the e ighth line weread a r ound for and r ound. The date D ec . 1 8 1 6 and the initia ls “ J .K. appear

under the sonnet in Tim E xaminer .

SLEEP AND POETRY.

As I lay in my b ed s lepe ful l unme te

Wa s unto m e,b ut why tha t I ne m ight

Re st I ne wis t , for the re n’

as e rthly Wight

(As I suppose] had more of be rt is e sehan I , for I n

’

ad sicknesse nor d isese .

CH AUCER.

H AT is more gent le than a wind in summer ?

What is more soothing than the pre tty hummer

That s tays one moment in an open flower,And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower ?What is more tranqui l than a musk -rose blowingI n a green is land , far from al l m en

’s knowing

More hea lthful than the leafiness of dales ?More Secre t than a nes t of nightinga les ?More serene than Corde l ia’s countenance ?More full of vis ions than a high romance ?

Wha t , but thee S leep ? Soft closer of our eyes !Low murmurer of tender lullabiesLight hoverer around our happy pil lowsWrea the r of poppy buds , and weep ing willowsS i lent entangler of a beauty’s tresses !Mos t happy l istener ! when the morning blessesThee for enl iven ing a ll the cheerful eyesThat glance so brightly a t the new sunrise .

But wha t is higher beyond thought than thee ?Fresher than berries of a mounta in tree ?More s trange , more beaut iful , more smooth , more regal ,Than wings of swans , than doves , than dim - seen eagle ?What is it ? And to wha t sha ll I compare it ?I t has a glory , and nought e lse can share i tThe thought thereof is awful , sweet , and holy ,Chas ing away a ll world l iness and folly ;H unt (see Append ix) p ronounces this the best poem in the b ook

,with his usual

exce l lent critica l percept ion.

SLEEP AND POETRY.

Com ing sometimes l ike fearful claps of thunder ,Or the low rumblings earth’s reg ions under ;And sometimes l ike a gentle whisperingOf all the secrets of some wond’rous thingThat brea thes about us in the vacant air ;So that we look around with prying stare ,

Perhaps to see shapes of l ight , aeria l lymning ,

And catch soft floatings from a fa int-heard hymning ;To see the laure l wrea th , on high suspended ,Tha t is to crown our name when l ife is ended .

Somet imes i t g ives a glory to the voice ,And from the heart up- springs , rejo ice ! rejoiceSounds which wi l l reach the Framer of all things ,And die away in ardent mutter ings .

No one who once the glor ious sunhas se en ,

And all the clouds , and fe lt his bosom cleanFor his great Maker’s presence , but mus t knowWhat ’

t is I mean , and fee l his be ing glowTherefore no insul t wil l I give his spiri t ,By tell ing wha t he sees from nat ive meri t .O Poesy ! for thee I hold my penThat am not yet a glorious den i zenOf thy wide heaven Should I rather kneelUpon some mounta in-top until I feelA glowing Splendour round about m e hung ,

And echo back the voice of thine own tongue ?0 Poesy ! for thee I grasp my penTha t am not yet a glor ious deni zenOf thy wide heaven ; yet , to my ardent prayer ,Yield from thy sanctuary som e clear air ,Smooth

’d for intox ication by the breathOf flower ing bays , that I may die a deathOf luxury , and my young spirjg followThe morning sun-beams to the great ApolloLike a fresh sacrifice ; or , if I can bearThe o

’erwhe lming swee ts , ’twi l l bring to me the fa ir

V is ions of all places : a bowery nookWill b e e lys ium - ah eterna l bookWhence I may copy many a love ly sayingAbout the leaves , and flowers about the playingOf nymphs in woods , and founta ins ; and the shadeKeeping a s i lence round a sl eeping ma id ;

POEMS PUBLI SH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

And many a verse from so s trange influenceThat we mus t ever wonder how, and whenceI t came . Also Imag I n I ngs wi ll hoverRound myfire -s ide , and haply there discoverV istas of solemn beauty, where I’d wanderI n happy s ilence , l ike the clear MeanderThrough its lone vales ; ‘

and where I found a spot

Of awfuller shade , or an enchanted grot ,Or a green hill o’erspread wi th chequer’d dressOf flowers , and fearfu l from its love l iness ,Write on my table ts all tha t was perm itted ,All that was for our human senses fitted .

Then the events of this wide world I’d se i zeLike a s trong giant , and my spirit teazeT il l at its shoulders i t should proudly seeWings to find out an immorta li ty .

S top and cons ider ! l ife is but a day ;A frag i le dew-drop on its peri lous wayFrom a tree’s summ i t ; a poor Indian’

s sleepWhile his boa t hastens to the monstrous s teepOf Montmorenci . Why so sad a moan ?Life is the rose

’s hope while yet unblown ;

The reading of an ever-chang ing tale ;The l ight upl ift ing of a ma iden’

s ve i l ;A pigeon tumbling in clear summer air ;A laughing school-boy, wi thout gr ief or care ,Rid ing the springy branches of an elm .

O for ten years , that I may overwhe lmMyse lf in poesy ; so I maydo the deedThat my own soul has to itself decreed .

Then wi l l I pass the countries that I seeI n long perspect ive , and,

cont inuallyTaste the ir pure founta ins. Firs t the realm I’l l passOf Flora , and old Pan : s leep in the grass ,Feed upon apples red , and Strawberries ,And choose each pleasure that my fancy sees ;Catch the white -handed nymphs in shady places ,To woo swee t kisses from averted faces ,P lay wi th the ir fingers , touch the ir shoulders whiteInto a pretty shrink ing with a biteAs hard as l ips can make i t : till agreed ,

(7 4) I n the or igina l , meander with a sma l l m,

SLEEP AND POETRY.

A love ly tale of human l ife we’ll read .

And one wi l l teach a tame dove how i t bes tMay fan the cool air gently o’er my rest ;Another , bending o

’er her nimble tread ,

Will set a green robe floating round her head ,And s til l wi l l dance with ever varied ease ,Sm i l ing upon the flowers and the treesAnother wil l ent i ce me on , and on

Through almond blossoms and rich c innamon ;T i l l in the bosom of a leafy worldWe rest in s i lence , l ike two gems upcurl

’d

I n the recesses of a pearly she ll .And can I ever bid these joys farewe ll PYes , I must pass them for a nobler l ife ,Where I may find the agonies , the s trifeOf human hearts : for lo ! I see afar,

O’ersailing the blue cragginess , a car

And stgeds wi th streamy manes the charioteerLooks out upon the winds wi th glorious fear :And now the numerous tramplings quiver lightlyAlong a huge cloud’s ridge ; and now wi th sprightlyWhee l downward come they into fresher sk ies ,T ipt round with s i lver from the sun

’s bright eyes .

S ti l l downward with capacious whirl they gl ide ;And now I see them on a gre en

-hill’s s ideI n bree zy res t among the nodding s ta lks .

The charioteer wi th wond’rous ges ture ta lksTo the trees and mounta ins ; and there soon appear

Shapes of de l ight , of mys tery , and fear ,Pass ing a long before a dusky spaceMade by some m ighty oaks : as they would chaseSome ever-fl eeting mus i c on they sweep .

Lo ! how they murmur , laugh , and sm ile , and weep :Some with upholden hand and mouth severe ;Some wi th the ir faces muffled to the ear ,

Between the ir arms ; some , clear in youthful bloom ,

Go gla‘d and sm i l ingly athwart the gloom ;Some looking back , and some with upward ga ze ;Yes , thousands in a thousand different waysFlit onward— now a love ly wreath of girls '3

D ancing the ir s leek ha ir into tangled curls ;And now broad wings . Mos t awful ly intentThe driver of those s teeds is forward bent ,

56 POEMS PUBLISH ED I N 1 8 1 7 .

And seems to l is ten : 0 that I m ight knowAll that he writes with such a hurrying glow !The vis ions all are fled— the car is fled

Into the l ight of heaven , and in the ir s teadA sense of real th ings comes doubly strong ,

And , l ike a muddy s tream , would bear a longMy sou l to nothingness : but I will s tr iveAga inst a ll doubt ings , and wil l keep al iveThe thought of tha t same chariot , and the s trangeJourney i t went .

I s there so sma ll a range

I n the present s trength of manhood , that the highImaginat ion cannot free ly flyAs she was wont of old Pprepare her steeds ,Paw up aga ins t the l ight , and do s trange deedsUpon the clouds H as she not shown us all

From the clear space of e ther , to the smal lBreath of new buds unfolding From the meaningOf Jove’s large eye

-brow, to the tender greeningOf Apri l meadows H ere her a ltar shone ,E

’en in this is le ; and who could paragon

The fervid choir that lifted up a noiseOf harmony , to where i t aye wil l poiseI ts m ighty se lf of convolut ing sound ,H uge as a planet , and l ike that roll round ,E ternal ly around a dizzy voidAy, in those days the Muses were n igh cloy’dWith honors ; nor had any other careThan to s ing out and sooth the ir wavy ha ir .

Could al l this be forgotten Yes , a scismNurtured by foppery and barbarism ,

Made great Apol lo blush for this his land .

Men were thought wise who could not unders tandH is glor ies : wi th a pul ing infant’s forceThey sway’d about upon a rock ing horse ,

And thought it Pegasus . Ah dismal soul’d !The winds of heaven

,b lew , the ocean roll

’d

I ts gathering waves ye fe lt it not . The blueBar’d its e terna l bosom , and the dew

Of summer li1ghts col lected s t i l l to makeThe morning prec ious : beauty was awake !

SLEEP AN D POETRY

Why were ye not awake ? But ye were deadTo things ye knew not of, were close ly wedTo musty laws l ined out wi th wre tched ruleAnd compass vile : so that ye taught a schoolOf dol ts to smooth , inlay , and cl ip , and fit

,

T i ll , l ike the certa in wands of Jacob’s wit ,The ir verses tal l ied . Easy was the taskA thousand handicraftsmen wore the maskOf Poesy . I l l- fated , imp ious race

Tha t b lasphem’d the bright Lyr is t to his face ,

And did not know i t , no , they went about ,Holding a poor , decrepid s tandard outMark’d with mos t fl imsy mottos , and in largeThe name of one Boi leau !

O ye whose chargeI t is to hover round our p leasant hi llsWhose congregated majes ty so fi llsMy boundly reverence , tha t I cannot traceYour hallowed nam es , in this unholy place ,So near those common folk ; did not the ir shamesAfif right you

? Did our old lament ing ThamesD e l ight you ? Did ye never clus ter roundD e l icious Avon , with a mournful sound ,And weep

? Or did ye wholly b id adieuTo regions where no more the laure l grew ?Or did ye stay to g ive a welcom ingTo some lone spirits who could proudly s ingThe ir youth away , and die ? ’T was even so

But le t me think away those times of woe

Now’t is a fa irer season ; ye have brea thed

Rich benedict ions o’er us ; ye have wreathedFresh garlands : for sweet mus ic has been heard

I n many places ; some has been upstirr’d

From out its crysta l dwe ll ing in a lake ,

By a swan’s ebon bill ; from a thick brake ,

N ested and qu ie t in a va lley m i ld ,Bubbles a pipe ; fine sounds are floa t ing wi ldAbout the earth : happy are ye and g lad .

These things are doubtless ; yet in truth we’ve had V WS trange thunders from the potency of song ;M ingled indeed wi th what is sweet and s trong ,From majesty : but in clear truth the themes

57

230

58 POEMS PUBL I SH ED 1 2V 1 8 1 7 .

Are ugly clubs , the Poets Polyphem es

D isturbing the grand sea . A dra inless showerOf l ight is poesy ; ’

t is the supreme of power ;’T is m ight half s lumb’ring on its own right arm .

The very archings of her eye - l ids charmA thousand wil l ing agents to obey,And s ti l l she governs with the m ildest swayBut s trength a lone though of the Muses bornI s l ike a fa llen ange l : trees uptorn,

D arkness , and worms , and shrouds , and sepulchresD e l ight it ; for i t feeds upon the burrs ,And thorns of l ife ; forgett ing the grea t endOf poesy , that i t should be a friendTo sooth the cares , and l ift the thoughts of man.

Yet I rejoice : a myrtle fa irer thanE’er grew in Paphos , from the bitter Weeds

Lifts its swee t head into the air , and feedsA s i lent space with ever sprouting green .

All tenderest b irds there find a pleasant screen ,

Creep through the shade wi th jaunty fluttering ,

N 1bb le the l itt le cupped flowers and sing .

Then let us clear away the choaking thornsFrom round its gentle s tem ; let the young fawns ,Yeaned in after t imes , when we are flown ,

Find a fresh sward beneath it , overgrownWith s imple flowers . let there nothing beMore boisterous than a lover’s bended kneeNought more ungentle than the placid lookOf one who leans upon a closed book ;Nought more untranquil than the grassy s lopesBe tween two hills . All hail de l ightful hopes !As she was wont , th’ imag inat ionInto mos t lovely labyr inths wi ll be gone ,And they sha ll be accounted poe t kingsWho s imply te l l the mos t heart - eas ing things .

O may these joys be r ipe before I die .

Will not some say that I presumptuouslyH ave spoken ? that from hasten ing disgrace’T were be tter far to hide my fool ish face ?

(250- 1 ) An idea says H unt (see Appendix) , of a s love ly and powerfu l a nature

m embodying an abstract ion,as we ever remember to have seen put into words.

”

60 POEMS PUBL I SH ED [ N 1 8 1 7 .

E’en now all tumul t from my bosom fadesI turn ful l hearted to the friendly a idsThat smooth the path of honour ; brotherhood ,And friendliness the nurse of mutua l good .

The hearty grasp that sends a pleasant sonne tInto the bra in ere one can think upon i t ;The s i lence when some rhymes are com ing out ;

And when they’re come , the very pleasant routThe message certa in to be done to-morrow.

’T is perhaps as wel l that i t should be to borrowSome precious book from out its snug retreat ,To cluster round it when we ne x t shal l meet .

Scarce can I scribble on ; for love ly a irsAre flutter ing round the room l ike doves in pa irs ;Many del ights of tha t glad day reca ll ing ,

When firs t my senses caught the ir tender fa ll ing .

And with these a irs come forms of e leganceS tooping the ir shoulders o’er a horse’s prance ,

Careless , and grand fingers soft and roundParting luxuriant curls ; and the swift boundOf Bacchus from his chariot , when his eye

Made Ariadne’s cheek look blushingly .

Thus I remember all the pleasant flowOf words at opening a portfol io.

Things such as these are ever harbingersTo tra ins of peaceful images : the s tirsOf a swan’s neck unseen among the rushesA l innet start ing all about the bushes :A butterfly , wi th golden wings broad parted ,Nestl ing a rose , convuls

’d as though it smartedWith over pleasure many , many more ,

Might I indulge at large in all my s toreOf luxuries : ye t I mus t not forge tS leep , quie t with his poppy coronetFor what there may be worthy in these rhymes

I partly owe to him . and thus , the chimes

Of friendly voices had jus t given placeTo as sweet a s i lence , when I ’

gan retraceThe pleasant day, upon a couch at ease .

I t was a poet’s house who keeps the keys

(354) H unt’

5 house . he says (see Append ix) the poem o riginated in s leepingin a room adorned with busts and pictures

’

many a bust from Shout ,”

a s

SLEEP AND POE TRY. 6 1

Of pleasure’s temple . Round about were hungThe glor ious feature s of the bards who sungI n other ages cold and sacred bus tsSm iled a t each other . H appy he who trus tsTo clear Futur ity his darl ing fame

Then there were fauns and sa tyrs taking aim

At swe l l ing apples wi th a frisky leapAnd reaching fingers , ’mid a luscious heapOf vine - leaves . Then there rose to View a fane

Of l iny marble , and there to a tra inOf nymphs approaching fa irly o’er the swardOne , love l iest , holding her white hand towardThe dazzl ing sun-r ise : two s isters sweetBending the ir graceful figures till they meetOver the trippings of a l i ttle childAnd som e are hear ing , eagerly , the wi ldThri l l ing l iquidity of dewy p ip ing .

See , in another p icture , nymphs are wipingCher ish ingly D iana’s timorous l imbs ,

A fold of lawny mantle dabbling swimsAt the bath’s edge , and keeps a gentle mot ionWith the subs iding crysta l : as when ocean

H eaves calm ly its broad swe ll ing smoothness o’er

I ts rocky marge , and balances once more

The patient weeds ; that now unshent by foamFee l all about the ir undulating home .

Sappho’s meek head was there ha lf sm i l ing downAt nothing ; jus t as though the earnes t frownOf over thinking had that mom ent goneFrom off her brow

,and left her all a lone .

G reat Alfred’s too , with anx ious , p itying eyes ,As if he always l istened to the s ighsOf the goaded world ; and Kosciusko’s wornBy horri d sufl'

rance m ighti ly forlorn .

Pe trarch , outs tepp ing from the shady green ,

S tarts at the s ight of Laura ; nor can wean

She lley wrote to M rs. G isborne . I n H unt'

s Correspondence (Vo lume i, page 289 )

we read Kea ts'

s S leep and P oetry is a desc ription of a pa rlour tha t was m ine ,no

bigger than an o ld mans ion’

s c lose t. C larke says Gentleman'

s M ag a zine , Pebruary 1 87 4 ) I t was in the l ibrary at H unt ’s cottage , where an extemporary b ed hadbeen made up for him on the sofa .


H is eyes from her sweet face . Mos t happy they !For over them was seen a free displayOf outspread wings , and from between them shoneThe face of Poesy : from off her throneShe overlook’d things that I scarce could te l l .The very sense of where I was m ight wellKeep S leep a loof : but more than tha t there cameThought after thought to nourish up the flameWithin my breas t ; so that the morning l ightSurprised me even from a s leepless n ight ;And up I rose refresh’d , and glad , and gay,Resolv ing to begin that very dayThese l ines ; and howsoever they be done ,I leave them as a father doe s his son.

The imprint of the 1 8 1 7 volume of Poems is as fo llows

C . Richa rds , P rinte r , 1 8 ,W arwick -s tree t , G o lden-squa re , London .

E D Y M I O N

iBuettc Romance

BY J OH N KEATS .

“TH E STRETCH ED M ETRE OF AN ANTI QUE soNG .

LONDON

PR I N T E D FO R TAY L OR AN D H E S S E Y ,

93, FLEET STREET.

1 8 1 8 .

[ I n Woodhouse’s copy of Endymion there is a note aga inst the passage

“ so I wi ll begin ” &c . , l ine 39 , Book I , to the effect that thepoem was begun in the spring of 1 8 1 7 and finished in the winter of1 8 1 7

—1 8 ; and in the t itle -

page he has inserted April before 1 8 1 8 .

The s ta tement corresponds with Kea ts’s own record of May 1 8 1 7 , thathe was busying himse lf at Mar

’

gate with the commencem ent of Endymion . This reference cannot of course be to the same Endymion tha the expected to fin ish in one more at tack when he wrote to Clarke inD ecember 1 8 1 6. Probably the conception referred to by Lord H oughton (Aldine edition , page xvii) as

“ long germ inating in his fancy ”rea lly took bodily form and subs tance , and tha t subs tance was whollyrejected , when Keats came wi thin the radius of H aydon’

s heroic art

propaganda , for the des ign on an ambitious sca le which the ne x t Springwas to see in pr int . Woodhouse records tha t at the end of the firstdraft is wr i tten Burford Bridge , Nov . 28 , H is s ta tement asto the month of issue scarcely does more than confirm the record ofthe series of documents bearing on this point published by Lord H ought

'

on . Thus , the firs t book was in the publisher’s hands by January1 8 1 8 , and the las t was cop ied out by the 1 4 th of March ; the origina lPreface , rejected upon the unfavourable verdict of Reynolds and othersof Keats’s friends , is da ted the 1 9 th of March ; the Preface as pub

lished is dated the I o th of Apri l , and went , i t seems , in a letter toReynolds of that date ; and on the 27 th of Apri l Keats wrote to Taylor apologi zing for giving him all the trouble ”

of E ndymion , and

adding , apparent ly in a llus ion to that poem , The book pleased memuch . I t is very free from faults ; and , a lthough there are one or two

words I should wish replaced , I see in many places an improvementgreat ly to the purpose .

” The measure of Keats’s fluency in compos ition may be judged by observing the altera tions recorded in Book I inthe following pages . Of that Book there appears to have been but onemanuscr ipt , wri tten on shee ts of quarto foolscap paper , and cons iderably a l tered before going to press . The other three Books were wri tten into a blank book and afterwards copied on quarto foolscap un iformwith that used for Book I . H ence the pr inter’s copy (the quartomanuscript) shows much more revis ion in Book I than e lsewhere .

With that manuscript I have collated the printed te x t throughout ; butthe variat ions given in Book I I , I I I , and I V as from the draft , I havetaken fromWoodhouse’s manuscript annotat ions . The original edition

(65)

of Endymion is a handsome octavo volume , origina lly issued in thickdrab boards labe lled at back , Kea ts ’s E ndymion . Lond . 1 8 1 8 , and

cons is t ing of fly- title as here reproduced , but with imprint at foot ofverso , Printed by T. Mil ler , N oble str eet , Cneapside ,

”t i tle—page

(with its motto adapted from Shakespeare’s seventeenth Sonne t) , anddedica tion to Chatterton’s memory , as given oppos i te , Preface pagesViito ix , an erra tum leaf wi th somet imes one and sometimes five errataprinted on recto , and 207 pages of tex t including the fly

- titles to thefour books as g iven in the present edition . The head-l ine throughoutis Endymion in Roman smal l capi ta ls , the number of the Book be ingindicated in smal ler letters at the inner corners , and the pages in Arabic figures as usua l at the outer corners . The full page consis ts of 22

l ines ; and the l ines are numbered in tens in the margin ; not every tenl ines of verse , but every ten l ines of pr int , so that when a fresh paragraph begins with a portion of a verse , that part icular verse counts fortwo l ines . I n numbering the l ines in fives I have of course countedby lines of verse . H . B . F ]

68 RE JE CTED PREFACE , ETC , TO END YM I ON .

ORIG INAL PREFACE , &c . , REJECTED I N FAVOUR OF

TH E FOREGOING .

’

N a great nation , the work of an indiv idual is of so l i tt le importancehis pleadings and e xcuses are so uninteresting ; his way of l ife

such a nothing , tha t a Preface seems a sort of impert inent bow to

s trangers who care noth ing about i t .A Preface , however , should be down in so many words ; and such a

one tha t by an eye -glance over the type the Reader may catch an ideaof an Author’s modesty , and non-op inion of himse lf which I sincerely hope may be seen in the few l ines I ha ve to wr i te , notwiths tand

ing many proverbs of many ages old which men find a grea t pleasurein rece iving as gospe l .About a twe lvemonth s ince , I published a l ittle book ofverses ; i t was

read by some dozen of my friends who lik’d i t ; and some dozen whomI was unacqua inted with , who did not .

Now, when a dozen human be ings are at words with another dozen ,

it becomes a ma tter of anx ie ty to s ide with one’s friends more

especia lly when e xc ited there to by a grea t love of Poe try . I foughtunder disadvantages . Before I began I had no inward feel of be ingable to finish ; and as I proceeded my steps were a ll uncerta in . So

this Poem mus t ra ther be cons idered as an endeavour than a thing ac

compl ished ; a poor prologue to what , if I l ive , I humbly hope to do .

I n duty to the Public I should have kept i t back for a year or two ,

knowing i t to be so faul ty : but I rea lly cannot do so , by repet i t ionmy favourite passages sound vap id in my ears , and I would ratherredeem myse lf with a new Poem should this one be found of anyinteres t .I have to apologi ze to the lovers of s impl i ci ty for touching the spe l l

of lone l iness tha t hung about Endym ion ; if any of my l ines plead forme with such people I sha ll be proud .

I t has been too much the fashion of late to cons ider men bigoted andaddicted to every word tha t may chance to escape the ir l ips ; now I

here declare that I have not any part icular affect ion for any part icularphrase , word , or letter in the whole affa ir . I have writ ten to pleasemyse lf, and in hopes to please others , and for a love of fame ; if Ine ither please myse lf, nor others , nor get fame , of what consequenceis Phraseology ?I would fa in escape the bicker ings tha t all Works not e xact ly in

1 Reprinted from Lord H oughton'

s Life and Letter s of yolzn Keat s , 1 867 .

RE I E CTED PREPACE , E TC. TO END YM I ON . 69

chime br ing upon the ir begetters but th is is not fa ir to e xpect , theremus t be conversation of some sort and to object shows a man

’s couse

quence . I n case of a London dri zzle or a Scotch m is t , the fol lowingquotation from Marston may perhaps ’stead me as an umbrel la for an

hour or so :“ let i t be the curtesy of my peruser ra ther to pi ty my se lfhindering labours than to mal ice me .

”

One word more for we cannot he lp see ing our own affairs in everypoint of View should any one ca ll my dedica tion to Chat tertonaffected I answer as fol lowe th Were I dead , sir , I should l ike a

Book dedicated to me .

TEI GNMOUTH ,

March I 9 t/z , I 8 I 8 .

E N D Y M I O N .

A ROMANCE .

BY JOH N KEATS.

The stretched metre of an antique song .

Sna é spea r e’s Sonnets.

I NSCRIBED ,

WI TH EVERY FEELI NG OF PRI DE AND REGRET

AND WI TH “A BOWED M I ND ,

”

TO TH E MEMORY OF

THE MOST ENGLI SH OF POETS EXCEPT SHAKSPEARE,

TH OMAS CHATTERTON.

7 2 END YM I ON .

Tha t for themse lves a cool ing covert make’Ga ins t the hot season ; the mid fores t brake ,Rich wi th a sprink l ing of fa ir musk-rose bloomsAnd such too is the grandeur of the dooms

We have imag ined for the m ighty dead ;Al l lovely tales that we have heard or readAn endless founta in of immortal drink ,Pouring unto us from the heaven’

s br ink .

Nor do we mere ly fee l these essencesFor one short hour ; no , even as the treesThat whisper round a temple become soon

D ear as the temple’s self, so does the moon,

The pass ion poesy , glor ies infinite ,

H aunt us ti l l they be come a cheering l igh tUnto our souls , and bound to us so fas t ,Tha t , whether there be shine , or gloom o

’ercas t ,

They a lway mus t be wi th us , or we die .

Therefore , ’tis wi th ful l happiness tha t IWill trace the s tory of Endym ion .

The very mus i c of the name has goneInto my be ing , and each pleasant sceneI s growing fresh before me as the green

Of our own val l ies : so I wil l beginNow whi le I cannot hear the c i ty’s din ;Now while the early budders are jus t new,

And run in mazes of the younges t hueAbout old fores ts ; whi le the wil low tra i lsI ts de l icate amber ; and the da iry pa ilsBring home increas e of m i lk . And , as the yearG rows lush in juicy sta lks , I’l l smoothly s tee rMy l i ttle boat , for many quie t hours ,With s treams that deepen freshly into bowers .

Many and many a verse I hope to wri te ,

The manuscript reads

Of these too are the grandeur of the

Compare Thomson’

s Seasons Winter,l ine 432)

And ho ld high conve rse with the m ighty dead.

I n the manuscript ,Te l l ing us we are on the heaven'

s brink .

I n the m anuscr ip t ,And pass ion , poe try , g lories infinite , “

BOOK END YM I ON . 7 3

Before the da is ies , vermeil rimm’d and whi te ,H ide in deep herbage ; and ere yet the beesH um about globes of c lover and swee t peas ,I mus t be near the m iddle of my s tory .

0 may no wintry season , bare and hoary ,See it ha lf finish’d : but le t Autumn bold ,With universa l t inge of sober gold ,Be a ll about m e when I make an end .

And now at once , adventuresome , I sendMy hera ld thought into a wi lde rnessThere le t its trumpe t blow,

and quick ly dre ssMy uncerta in path wi th green , that I may speedEas ily onward , thorough flowers and weed .

Upon the s ides of Latmus was outspreadA m ighty fores t ; for the mois t earth fedSo plenteous ly a ll weed-hidden roots

Into o’er-hanging boughs , and prec ious fruits .

And i t had gloomy shades , sequestered deep ,

Where no man went ; and if from shepherd’s keepA lamb s tray

’d far a—down those inmost glens ,Never aga in saw he the happy pensWhither his brethren , blea t ing with content ,Over the hills at every nightfa ll went .Among the shepherds , ’

t was be l ie ved ever ,That not one fleecy lamb which thus did s everFrom the white flock , but pass’d unworr iedBy angry wolf, or pard wi th prying head ,Unti l i t came to some unfooted pla insWhere fed the herds of Pan : aye grea t his ga insWho thus one lamb did lose . Paths there were many,Winding through pa lmy fern ,

and rushes fenny ,And ivy banks ; al l leading pleasantlyTo a wide lawn , whence one could only see(50) Keats or igina l ly wrote this word vermil both here and in l ine 69 6 of this

Book. Whe ther he adopted it from Spenser or som e other wr ite r I know not ; b ut

in Spense r it is vermeil se e Fa er ie Queene , Book I I , Canto X , stanza 24 .

(58 ) I n the manuscript the re is a comma afte r now and none a fter adventur esome .

(7 1 ) The manuscr ipt reads To w/zien for Whither .

(7 4 ) I n the manuscript , fieeey is a ltered to fl eecing ,which

,in turn

,is a lte red

back to eecy.

(7 8) n the manuscript,aye grea t his ga ins

Who thus b ut one did lose .

The read ing of the text is supp l ied , a s an a lternat ive,in penci l. I n the first edi~

tlon ay is printed for aye .

7 4 END YM I OI V. [BOOK 1 .

S tems thronging all around be tween the swe llOf turf and s lant ing branches : who could te llThe freshness of the space of heaven above ,

Edg’d round wi th dark tree tops ? through which a doveWould often beat its wings , and often too

A l i ttle c loud would move across the blue .

Full in the m iddle of this pleasantnessThere stood a marble a l tar, with a tressOf flowers budded newly ; and the dew

H ad taken fa iry phantas ies to strewD a is ies upon the sacred sward las t eve ,And so the dawned light in pomp rece ive .

For’t was the morn : Apollo’

s upward fireMade every eas tern cloud a s i lvery pyreOf brightness so unsully

’d , tha t there in

A me lancholy sp ir i t we l l m ight winObliv ion , and me l t out his essence fineInto the winds : ra in- scented eglantineGave tempera te swee ts to that we ll-woo ing sun ;The lark was los t in him ; cold springs had run

To warm the ir chill ies t bubbles in the grass ;Man

’s vpice was on the mounta ins ; and the mass

Of nature ’

s l ives and wonders puls’d tenfold ,To fee l this sunrise and its glories old .

Now while the s ilent workings of the dawnWe re bus iest, into that se lf-same lawnAll suddenly , with joyful cries , the re spedA troop of l itt le children garlanded ;Who gathering round the al tar , seem’d to pryEarnestly round as wishing to espySome folk of hol iday : nor had they wa i tedFor many moments , ere the ir ears were satedWith a fa int breath of mus ic , which ev’n then(83) Th is l ine orig ina l ly s tood a foot short in the m anuscript , thus

S tems thronging round be tween the94 ) Cance l led manuscript read ing , comin

fg lig /zt for dawned Jiy/it .

9 9 ) Cance l led manuscript read ing ,pur e orfine.1 07

in cons

7 6 END YM I ON . [Boon 1.

A crowd of shepherds with as sunburnt looksAs may be read of in Arcadian books ;Such as sat l isten ing round Apollo’s pipe ,When the great de ity , for earth too ripe ,Let his divinity o’

er-flowing die

I n mus ic , through the vales of Thessa lySome idly trail’d the ir sheep-hooks on the ground ,And some kept up a shri lly m e llow soundWith ebon- tipped flutes : close after these ,

Now com ing from beneath the fores t trees ,A venerable pries t ful l soberly ,Begirt with ministring looks : a lway his eye

S tedfas t upon the matted turf he kept ,And after him his sacred vestments swept .From his right hand there swung a vase ,

m i lk-whi te ,Of m ingled wine , out

- sparkl ing generous l ight ;And in his left he he ld a basket fullOf all sweet herbs that searching eye could cullWild thyme , and val ley- l ill ies whiter s til lThan Leda’s love , and cresses from the ri l l .H is aged head , crowned with beechen wreath ,Seem

’d l ike a poll of i vy in the tee th

Of winter hoar . Then came another crowdOf shepherds , l ift ing in due time a loudThe ir share of the di tty . After them appear

’d ,

( 1 44 ) A love ly a l lus ion to the love ly story of Apo l lo '

s nine years ' sojourn on

earth as the he rdsman of Admetus , when banished from O lympus for kil ling the

Cyc lops who had forged the thunde r-bo lts whe rewith I Escu lapius had been s lam .

( 1 o) B eg ir t wit/z ministring looks is pe rhaps som ewha t l icent ious ly e l l ip t ica l ;but t ere is no doub t that was wha t Ke a ts wrote

,and I presume the re can be none

as to the meaning surrounded by peop le whose looks showed their eagerness to

do the ir ministe r mg part .( 1 53) This coup le t or ig ina l ly stood thus

From his r ight hand the re swung a m i lk white vaseOfm ing led wines , outsparkling l ike the S tars

the less vigorous read ing of the text be ing evident ly supp l ied to ge t rid of the fa lserhyme . I t is to b e noted

,however , tha t the bare idea of rhymmg vas e and star s

shows tha t Keats no longer pronounced va se as if it rhym ed with pace , as at page

23 of this vo lume .

( 1 57 ) The mot ive of am end ing the rhyme was probably not the only one for thenext erasure . Lines 1 57 and 1 58 were or igina l ly

W i ld thym e,and va l ley li ll ies white a s Leda ’

s

Bosom,and choicest strips from mounta in Cedars .

Then blossomsfi'

om t/ze ril l has p lace in the manuscript before the final cr essesfrom tlze is supplied . W/titer t/zan Leda ’

s love ( j up i te r in the form of a swan)is an obvious ly be tter compar ison than w/ ute as Leda ’

s bosom .

( 1 63) I n the manuscrip t o'

t/ze D itty .

BOOK END YM I ON

Up- followed by a mul ti tude that rear’d

The ir voices to the clouds , a fa ir wrought car ,Eas i ly roll ing so as scarce to mar

The freedom of three s teeds of dapple brownWho stood there in did seem of great renownAmong the throng . His youth was fully blown ,

Showing l ike Ganymede to manhood grown ;And , for those s imple times , his garments were

A chiefta in king’s : beneath his breast , half bare ,Was hung a s i lver bugle , and betweenH is nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen .

A sm i le was on his countenance ; he s eem’d ,

To common lookers on , l ike one who dream’d

Of idleness in groves E lys ianBut there were some who fee l ingly could scanA lurking trouble in his ne ther lip ,

And see that oftentimes the re ins would s l ipThrough his forgotten hands : then would they s igh ,And think of yel low leaves , of owlets’ cry,Of logs pil’d solemnly .

—Ah , we ll- a-day,Why should our young Endym ion pine away !Soon the assembly , in a circle rang

’d ,

S tood s i lent round the shrine : each look was chang’d

To sudden veneration : women meekBeckon

’d the ir sons to s i lence ; while each cheek

Of virgin bloom pa l’d gently for s l ight fear .

Endym ion too , wi thout a fores t peer ,Stood , wan , and pa le , and with an awed face ,Among his brothers of the mounta in chace .

I n m ids t of al l , the venerable pries tEy

’d them wi th joy from grea tes t to the least ,And , after l ifting up his aged hands ,Thus spake he Men of Latmos ! shepherd bands !Whose care it is to guard a thousand flocksWhether descended from beneath the rocksThat overtop your mounta ins ; whe ther comeFrom vall ies where the pipe is never dumb ;Or from your swe ll ing downs , where swee t air stirs

7 7

7 8 END YM I ON’

. [BOOK 1 .

B lue hare-be lls l ightly , and where pr ickly furzeBuds lav ish gold ; or ye , whose prec ious chargeN ibble the ir fil l at ocean’

s very marge ,Whose me llow reeds are touch’d with sounds forlorn

By the dim echoes of old Tri ton’s horn

Mothers and wives who day by day prepareThe scrip , with needments , for the mounta in air ;And a ll ye gent le gir ls who fos ter upUdderle ss lambs , and in a l ittl e cupWill put choice honey for a favoured youthYea , every one attend for in good truth

'

Our vows are want ing to our great god Pan .

Are not our lowing he ifers s leeker thanN ight- swollen mushroom s ? Are not our wide plainsSpeckled wi th countless fleeces ? H ave not ra insG reen

’d over Apri l’s lap ? No howl ing sad

S ickens our fearful ewes ; and we have hadGreat bounty from Endym ion our lord .

The earth is glad : the merry lark has pour’dH is early song aga ins t you bree zy sky,That spreas so clear o’

er our solem n i ty .

Thus ending , on the shrine he heap’d a spire

Of teem ing swe e ts , enk indl ing sacred fire ;Anon he s tain’d the thick and spongy sodWith wine , in honor of the shepherd-god .

Now while the earth was drinking it , and whileBay leaves were crack l ing in the fragrant p ile ,

And gummy frankincense was sparkling bright

(208) The write r in the Qua r ter ty Review whom She l ley apostrophi zed as

Thou note les s blot on a remembered nam e !

accused Kea ts of inventi

pg(or as he put it s awn ing ”

) certa in words , amongwhich was needments. ad the

“note less blot s read ing e xtended fa r enough ,

he m igh t have found this word in a lmost the sam e context in Spenser’s Faer ieQueene (Book I , Canto V I , stanza 35)

and eke behind,

H is scrip did hang ,in which his needments he did bind .

I n Canto I of the same Book, stanza 6, the same word occurs in connexion withbag instead of scr ip :

Beh ind he r farre away a Dwarfe did lag ,

That la zie seem'

d in b eeing e uer la st ,Or wea ried with bea ring of her b agOf needments a t his back .

gndd

‘

ments and needments are not whol ly obsole te even ye t in some parts of Eng(1.

80 END YM I ON . [BOOK 1 .

Wha t time thou wanderes t at eventideThrough sunny meadows , tha t outskirt the s ideOf thine enmossed rea lms : O thou , to whomBroad leaved fig trees even now foredoomThe ir ripen’d frui tage ; ye llow girted beesThe ir golden honeycombs ; our village leasThe ir fa ires t blossom’

d beans and poppied corn ;The chuckling l inne t its five young unborn ,

To s ing for thee ; low creep ing s trawberriesThe ir summer coolness ; pent up butterfl iesThe ir freck led wings ; yea , the fresh budding yearAll its comple t ions— be quickly near ,By every wind that nods the mounta in p ine ,O fores ter divine !

Thou ,

’

to whom every faun and sa tyr fl iesFor wi ll ing service ; whe ther to surpriseThe squat ted hare while in half s leep ing fi t ;Or upward ragged precipices fl i tTo save poor lambkins from the eagle’s maw ;Or by mysterious ent icement drawBewi ldered shepherds to the ir path aga in ;Or to tread breathless round the frb thv ma in,

And ga ther up a ll fanciful les t she llsFor thee to tumble into Na iads’ ce lls ,And , be ing hidden , laugh at the ir out-peeping ;Or to de l ight thee with fantas tic leaping ,

the Quar ter ly Review accused Kea ts of inventing. Spense r , as we have se en , was

a sea led book to him ; so tha t it is not s trange he ignored the pas sage in the Faer ieQueene (Book I I , Canto I x

,stanza

Grea t wonder had the knight to see the maid

So strange ly pass ioned .

But Shakespeare seems to have been a sea led book too,at a ll events during those

seasons in which he took the l iberty accorded by She l ley of sp i l l ing the overflowingvenom from his fangs othe rwise he m ight have d iscovered such passage s as

Madam,

'

t was Ariadne passioninigFor Theseus ' perj ury and unjus t ight ;

Two Gent lemen of Ver ona ,Act I V

,S cene I V

,l ine s 1 7 2—3.

And sha l l not myse lf pass ion as theyTempest , Ac t V, Scene I , l ines 22—4 .

D umbly she passions ,frant ic ly she dote thVenus and Adonis

,l ine 1 059 .

263) I n the manuscript and in the firs t ed ition we readfawn forfaun.

27 2) Cancel led manuscript read ingTo tumble them into fair Naiads Ce l ls.

BOOK END YM I OIV. 8 1

The while they pel t each other on the crownWith s i lvery oak apples , and fir cones brownBy a ll the echoes that about thee r ing ,

H ear us , 0 satyr kingO H earkener to the loud clapping shears ,While ever and anon to his shorn peers

A ram goes bleating : Winder of the horn ,When snouted wild boars routing tender cornAnger our huntsm en : Breather round our farms ,

To keep off m ildews , and a ll weather harmsS trange m inistrant of undescribed sounds ,Tha t come a swooning over hol low grounds ,And wither drear ily on barren moors :

D read opener of the mys ter ious doorsLeading to universa l knowledge see ,

G rea t son of D ryope ,The many that are come to pay the ir vowsWith leaves about the ir brows

Be s ti ll the unimaginable lodgeFor sol itary th inkings ; such as dodgeConception to the very bourne of heaven ,

Then leave the naked bra in . be stil l the leaven ,

Tha t spreading in this dul l and clodded earthG ives i t a touch e therea l a new birthBe s till a symbol of immens i ty ;A firmament reflected in a sea ;An e lement fi ll ing the space between ;An unknown but no more : we humbly screenWith upl ift hands our foreheads , lowly bending ,

And g iving out a shout most heaven rending ,

Conjure thee to rece ive our humble Pman.

Upon thy Mount LyceanEven while they brought the burden

'

to a c lose ,A shout from the whole multi tude arose ,

(283) The manuscr ipt reads H untsmen ,the first ed ition finntsman ; but it is

most unl ike ly tha t Keats m ade this s light change m a wrong d irect ion .

(290) Of the various pa rentages a ssigned to Pan by the anc ients Keats seems to

have prefe rred the H om eric .

(293) The quotat ion-marks here and a t the c lose of the hymn are not in the

first ed it ion,nor in the manuscript ; b ut they are in the corre cted copy.

~

E(307 ) The contraction E

’

en is in the manuscript , but the first ed ition reads

ven.

82 EN D I’M ] ON [BOOK 1 .

That l ingered in the air l ike dying rollsOf abrupt thunder , when Ionian shoalsOf dolphins bob the ir noses through the br ine .

Meantime , on shady leve ls , mossy fine ,Young companies n imbly began dancingTo the swift treble pipe , and humm ing s tring .

Aye , those fa ir l iving forms swam heavenlyTo tunes forgotten out of memory .

Fa ir creatures ! whose young childrens’ children bredThermopylae its heroes— not yet dead ,But in old marbles ever beautiful .H igh geni tors , unconsc ious did they cul lT ime’s swee t first -frui ts— they danc’d to weariness ,And then m quie t c ircles did they pressThe hillock turf, and caught the latter endOf some s trange his tory , potent to sendA young m ind from its bodily tenementOr they m ight watch the quoit-pitchers , intentOn e i ther s ide ; p itying the sad dea thOf H yacinthus , when the crue l breathOf Zephyr s lew him , Zephyr penitent ,Who now, ere Phoebus mounts the firmament ,Fondles the flower amid the sobbing ra in .

The archers too , upon a wider pla in,

Bes ide the fea thery whi zzing of the shaft ,And the dul l twanging bowstring , and the raftBranch down sweep ing from a ta l l ash topCal l

’d up a thousand thoughts to enve lopeThose who would watch . Perhaps , the trembling kneeAnd frant i c gape of lonely N iobe ,

Poor , lone ly N iobe ! when her love ly young(31 1 ) The ve rb to bob seem s to have been cons ide red open to que stion . push

and r ais e stand a s margina l sugge stions in the manusc ript(31 3) The a ccentuation o f the fina l syl lable of danc ing I s not a p ie ce of or igina llicent iousne ss , b u t a rem iniscence of a rhythm ica l way of Spenser

’

s : compa re

Faerie Queene, Book I I , C anto V I I,stanza 23

The ha tefu l m essenge rs of heavy things ,Of dea th and do lor te l ling sad t id ings .

31 5) The manuscr ipt shows a marg ina l sugges tion of mov'

d for swam here .

(31 9 ) D oubt less meant to refe r spec ia l ly to the E lg in m arbles .

(335) The manuscript gives no he lp to this som ewhat a i l ing l ine . I t stands

the re pre c ise ly as in Ke’ats s p rinted text . I t seems more l ike ly tha t he meant the

heavy monosyllable B r anch to do du ty for a who le foot o r t im e-be a t than that heacc identa l ly let drop the second syllable of downwa r d for examp le .

(339 ) This line is punc tuated as in Keats’

5 ed ition . the manuscrip t g ives no

stops whatever I n it.

84 END YM I 01V. [BOOK 1 .

For the sun’s purple couch ; to emulate

I n ministring the potent rule of fateWith speed of fire - tail

’d e xha lations ;

T0 tint her pallid cheek wi th bloom , who consSwee t poesy by moonl ight : bes ides these ,A world of other unguess’d ofi

‘

ices .

Anon they wander’d , by divine converse ,Into E lys ium vic ing to rehearseEach one his own ant ic ipa ted bliss .

One fe l t heart-certa in that he could not missH is quick gone love , among fair blossom

’d boughs ,Where every zephyr- s igh pouts , and endows

H er l ips wi th mus i c for the welcom ing .

Another wish’d , mid tha t e ternal spring ,

To meet his rosy child , with fea thery sa ils ,Sweeping , eye

- earnes tly , through almond valesWho , suddenly , should stoop through the smooth wind ,And wi th the balm ies t leaves his temples bind ;And , ever after , through those regions beH is messenger , his l i ttle Mercury .

Some were a thirs t in soul to see aga inThe ir fellow huntsmen o

’er the wide champa ign

I n times long pas t ; to sit wi th them , and tal kOf al l the chances in the ir earthly walk ;Comparing , joyfully , the ir plenteous s toresOf happiness , to when upon the moors ,

Benighted , close they huddled from the cold ,And shar’d the ir famish’d scrips . Thus a l l out- toldThe ir fond imaginations , saving himWhose eye l ids curtain’d up the ir jewe ls dim ,

Endym ion : ye t hourly had he strivenTo hide the cankering venom , that had rivenH is fa inting recollections . Now indeedH is senses had swoon

’d off : he did not heedThe sudden s i lence , or the whispers low,

Or the old eyes dissolving at his woe ,Or anx ious ca lls , or close of trembling palms ,Or ma iden’

s s igh , that grief i tself embalms

But in the se lf-same fixed trance he kept ,Like one who on the earth had never stept .

(368) I n the manuscript, pr etaxc/zeeb, with pa l lid and waning as margina l a lterna tives .

(386 I n the manuscript , campa ig n.

389 Cance l led manuscript read ing ,pr esent forp lenteous.

BOOK END YM I ON . 85

Aye , even as dead-s ti ll as a marble man ,

Frozen in that old ta le Arabian .

Who whispers him so pantingly and close ?Peona , his swee t s ister : of a ll those ,H is friends , the deares t . H ushing s igns she made ,And breath

’d a s ister’s sorrow to persuade

A yielding up , a cradling on her care .

H er e loquence did breathe away the curse

She led him , l ike some m idnight spiri t nurseOf happy changes in emphat ic dreams ,

Along a path be tween two l i ttle streams ,Guarding his forehead , with her round e lbow,

From low-

grown branches , and his foots teps s lowFrom stumbling over s tumps and hil locks sma ll ;Until they came to where these steamlets fa ll ,With m ingled bubb lings and a gentle rush ,Into a river , clear , brimful , and flushWith crystal mocking of the trees and sky.

A l ittle shallop , floa t ing there hard by ,(405—6) There are severa l ep isodes m Tbe Tbausand and One Nig /zts tha t m ight

poss ibly b e cited in connex ion with this coup le t ; but there can hard ly b e any rea

sonable doubt tha t the a l lus ion I S to the ta le genera llyassoc iated with the nam e of

Zobe ide , its na rra tor , that 1 5 to say the E ldest Lady’

5 S tory in Tbe Por ter and Me

a ee Ladies of B ag /zdad. Although the story is a lmost too we ll known for an

extra ct to b e needed , Eng l ish scholars have yet to de sire a vers ion of l e T/zon

sand and One N ig /zts a t once comp lete , scholar ly, and characterist ic I n language .

No apo logy I S the refore necessary for inserting the fo llowing extract from a ve rs ionon a sumptuous sca le ,

by M r. John Payne , now mainlyin manuscript, but I n course

of priva te issue by subscript ionWe sa i led days and nights , t i l l the captain m issed the true course and the ship

went astray with us and entered a sea other than tha t we a imed at. We knew no t

of this awhi le and the wind blew fa ir for us ten days , a t the end ofwhich t im e the

look-out man ascended to the ma st-head to look out and cr ied Good news !’

Then he cam e down, rejoic ing ,

and sa id I see a c ity afar off,as it were a dove .

’

At this we rejoiced,and before an hour of the daywas past , the c ity appeared to

us in the d istance . Sowe sa id to the cap ta in Wha t is the nam e of the c ity towhichwe are d rawing near P ByA l lah ,’ repl ied he , I know not

,for I have never before

seen it,nor have I ever sa i led this sea in my life ! But

,s ince the affa ir has ended in

safety,nought remains for you b ut to land and d isplayyour goods , and if an oppor

tunity offer se l l or barter a s may b e ; but if the occa sion serve not,we wi l l res t he re

two days,then re-victua l and depa rt.’ So we ente red the harbour and the capta in

landed and was absent awhile,after which he re turned to us and sa id ‘

Arise go upinto the c ity and marve l a t God’

5 dea l ings wi th H is creatures and seek refuge fromH is wra th .

’

So we went up to the city and saw a t the gate m en with s taves in

the ir hands ; but when we drew near them,beho ld

,they had been str icken by the

wrath o f God and were becom e stones ! Then we entered and found a ll the town

fo lk changed into black s tones ; the re was not a l ive sou l left the re in,no

,not a

b lower of the fire . At this we were confounded and traversed the streets and

ma rke ts,whe re we found the m erchand ise and go ld and s i lve r exposed in the ir

p lace s , and rejoiced saying D oubtle ss , there is some mystery in this.

’

Then we

86 EN DYM I ON . [BOOK 1 .

Pointed its beak over the fringed bank ;And soon i t l ightly dipt , and rose , and sank ,And dipt aga in , wi th the young couple’s we ight ,Peona gu id ing , through the water straight ,Towards a bowery is land oppos i te ;Which ga ining pres ent ly , she s teered lightInto a shady , fresh , and ripply cove ;Where nes ted was an arbour , overwoveBy many a summer

’s s ilent fingering ;

To whose cool bosom she was us’d to bring

H er playmates , wi th the ir needle broidery ,And m ins tre l memories of t imes gone by .

So she was gently glad to see him la idUnder her favoflrite bower’s quie t shade ,

a ll d ispersed about the s tree ts of the c ity, d istracted each from his fe l low by the

lust of ga in and the stuffs and riches ; whi lst I went up to the c itade l and found itrare and skilfu l in fashion. I ente red the king’

s pa lace ,where I found a ll the ves

se ls of gold and s i lve r and saw the king himse lf se a ted in the m idst of his chamberla ins and l ieutenants and viziers , and c lad in ra iment that amazed the wit. As Idrew near him ,

I saw tha t he was seated on a throne inla id wi th pea rls and‘

ewe ls,

and arrayed in a robe of c loth of go ld embroide red with jewe ls,each one 0 which

shone l ike a s tar,whilst there stood about him fifty white s laves, dre ssed in various

kinds of s i lks and bearing drawn swords in the ir hands. I wa s struck with ama ze

ment a t the s ight , bu t went on and entered the sa loon of the harem,whose wa l ls

we re cove red with hangings of s i lk, striped wi th go ld . H e re I found the queenlying on a couch and clad in a robe covered with fresh pearls. On her head was a

c rown d iad emed with d ivers sorts of jewe ls,and round her ne ck col la rs and neck

lace s . Al l her appa re l and ornaments were unchanged ,but she herse lf had been

sm itten of God and was a black stone .

"

I n l ine 406 the manuscript shows a cance l led read ing , Sitting for Froz en ; and

immed ia te ly afte r this l ine the fol lowing pas sage is oblitera ted in fat/our ofwhat nows tand as lines 407 to 4 1 2

Now happ i ly , there s itting on the grass

Was fa ir Pe ona, a most tender Las s ,And his swee t s ister ; who ,

upr is ing , went

W ith s tifled sobs,and o

’

er his shou lder leant.Putt ing her trembl ing hand aga inst his cheekShe sa id : My dear Endym ion,

let us seekA p leasant bowe r where thou may’st rest apart ,And ease in s lumbe r thine a ffl icted heartCome my own dearest brother : these our friendsW

' i ll joy in thinking thou dos t s leep whe re bendsOur fre shening River through you birchen groveD o come now ! Could he gainsa her who strove,So soothing ly, to brea the away a urse

Sweet and tender as this passage is , no one wil l doubt the e xce l lence of the se lfcrit1 cism which led to the subs titut ion of the six e xquis ite l ines now stand ing inp lace of it ; but itwas a sad m iscarriage of fine intention that , in making the changethe poe t left l ine 4 1 1 rhyme le ss .

(432) I n the manuscrip t, Wit/iis here struck out in favour ofBy.

88 END YM I ON . [BOOK 1 .

Founta ins grotesque , new trees , bespangled caves ,Echoing grot tos , full of tumbling wavesAnd moonl ight ; aye , to all the mazy worldOf s i lvery enchantment ! who , upfurl

’d

Benea th thy drowsy wing a triple hour ,But renovates and l ives ? Thus , in the bower ,Endym ion was ca lm

’d to l ife aga in .

Opening his eye l ids with a heal thier bra in ,

H e sa id : I fee l this thine endearing loveAll through my bosom : thou art as a cloveTrembling its closed eyes and s leeked wingsAbout me ; and the pearl ies t dew not bringsSuch morn ing incense from the fie lds of May,As do those brighter drops tha t twinkling s trayFrom those kind eyes , — the very home and hauntOf s is terly affection . Can I wantAught e lse , aught nearer heaven , than such tears ?Ye t dry them up , in bidding hence al l fears

That , any longer , I wi ll pass my daysAlone and sad . No ,

I wi ll once more ra iseMy voice upon the mounta inhe ights ; once more

’

Make my horn'

parley from the ir foreheads hoar :Aga in my trooping hounds the ir tongues sha ll 101 1Around the breathed boar : aga in I ’l l pollThe fair-grown yew tree ,

for a chosen bowAnd , when the pleasant sun is ge tting low,

Aga in I ’ll l inger in a mping meadTo hear the speckled thrushes , and see feedOur idle sheep . So b e thou chee red swe e t ,(466) This l ine is the remnant of five which orig inal ly stood for it in the manu

scrl t :pA cheerful ler res ignment , and a sm i leFor his fair S is te r flowing l ike the N i leThrough a ll the channe ls of her p ie ty ,H e sa id : D earMa id

,may I this moment die

,

I f I fee l not th is thine endearing(4 7 0) I n the manuscript , l ine 469 was origina l ly fol lowed by the three l ines

From woodbine hedges such a morning fee l ,As do those brighte r d rops ,

tha t twinkling s tea lThrough those p re ssed lashe s , from the b lossom

’

d

which Keats rejected for the three l ines in the text . I n l ine 4 7 2 he had a ltered t/toseto My in penc i l ; and it is a t least probable that the adopt ion of tlzase in the printedtext was an ove rs ight.(480) Compare Thomson

’

s S ea sons , Winter ,l ines 8 1 6- 1 7

the troop ing deerS leep on the new fa l len snow.

Boox END YM I ON 89

And , if thy lute is here , soft ly intrea tMy soul to keep in its resolved course .

H ereat Peona , in the ir s i lver source ,

Shut her pure sorrow drops wi th glad e xcla im ,

And took a lute ,from which there puls ing came

A l ive ly prelude , fashioning the wayI n which her voice should wander .

’T was a lay

More subtle cadenced , more forest wi ldThan D ryope’s lone lull ing of her chi ld ;And nothing s ince has floated in the air

So mournful s trange . Sure ly some influence rare

Went , spiri tua l , through the damse l’s hand ;For s till , wi th D elphic emphas is , she spann

’d

The qu ick invis ible str ings , even though she saw

Endym ion’s sp iri t m e lt away and thaw

Before the deep intox icat ion .

(4 9 4—5) This coup let is margina l ly substituted in the manuscript for the fo l lowingsix l ines :

M ore forest-wi ld ,m ore subt le -cadenced

Than can b e to ld by m orta l : even wedThe fa int ing tenors of a thousand she l lsTo a m i llionwhisperings of L i l ly be l ls ;And m ingle too the Nightinga le ’

s comp la inCaught in its hundredth echo ; ’

twou ld b e va inS trikingly characterist ic a s this is of the ru ling mood ofKeats

,one

’

cannot regre t the

l ibe ra l ity of reject ion which threw it a s ide for the incomparable reference to Pan’

s

mother in the coup le t of the text . I t is just conce ivab le that the pas sage given inthe foot-note to l ine 853 of Book I I was a part of the origina l concept ion of this episode

,bu t ha rd ly p robab le .

(49 6) I n the m anuscript , this l ine beg ins with For ,And be ing jotted as a sugges

t ion in the marg in .

(502) The use of this word intoxica tion as a fu l l five-syllable word accented on

the fina l syllable,and a s im i lar use of many words term ina ting in ion

,has been

a top ic of frequent censure with Keats’

s critics ; b u t I presume no one a t the pres

ent day needs to be to ld tha t this wa s m ere ly ano ther E lizabethan l icence repro

duced . H ere is one of many instances from Shakespeare (Romeo and_7 a liet,

Act I I I,Scene V

,l ine 29 )

Some say the la rk makes sweet d ivision,

and one from Spenser (Faerie Queene , Book I I I , Canto V I I I , stanza 1

Lo oft as I this history re cordMy heart doth me lt with meere compass ion ,

To think how cause lesse , of he r owne accord,

This gent le dam z e l lwhom I wri te upon,

Shou ld p longed b e in suchSpenser , indeed ,

ava i led him se lf so often and so unsparing ly of this faci le way ofrhym ing and scanning that it maywe ll have happened that Kea ts’

s ardent adm iration for the elder poet led him to think even this a beauty to be imitated. H ere are

9 0 END YM I ON . { BOOK 1.

But soon she came , with sudden burst , uponH er se lf—possess ion swung the lute as ide ,And earnes tly sa id Brother , ’

t is va in to hideThat thou dos t know of things mys terious ,Immortal , s tarry ; such a lone could thusWe igh down thy nature . H as t thou sinn

’d in aughtOffens ive to the heavenly powers ? CaughtA Paphian dove upon a message sent ?Thy dea thful bow aga inst some deer- herd bent ,Sacred to D ian ? H aply , thou hast seenH er naked limbs among the a lders green ;And that , alas is death . No I can traceSome thing more high perple x ing in thy face

fourteen consecut ive l ines in Tbe Faerie Queene (Book I I I , Canto V I , s tanzas 8 andwhich wou ld b e cons ide red ve ry deficxeut in e xecutive invention nowadays :

M iraculous may seeme to him that read esSo straunge ensamp le of concept ion ;But reason teache th tha t the fruitful l seadesOf a l l things l iving ,

through impress ionOf the sunbeame s in moyst comp le xion,

D oe l ife conceiue and quickned are by kyndS o ,

after N llus inunda t ion,

I nfini te shapes of crea ture s men doe fynd

I nformed in the mud on wh ich the Sunne hath shynd.

G rea t fa ther he of gene rat ionI s r ight ly ca ld ,

th’

authour of life and light ;And his fa ire s ister for c reat ionMinistre th ma tter fit

,which tempered right

W ith b ea te and humour,b re ede s the liv mg wight.

51 3 Cance l led manuscript rea d ing ,onfl ag s and r a shes for among tbe a lders.

(51 4 Compare Romeo and 7 a liet , Act I I , S cene I I , l ine 64And the p lac e death , conside ring who thou ar t.

(51 5) This speech of Peona’

s was orig ina l ly much longer : theshows the fol lowing l ines , struck out for the read ing of the text :

And I do pray thee by thy utmost aim

To te l l me a l l . N0 l itt le fau lt or blame

Canst thou lay on me for a teasing G ir l ;Ever as an unfathomable pear lH as been thy se crecy to m e : b ut nowI needs must hunger after it , and vowTo b e its jea lous Guard ian for aye .

Utte r ing the se words she got nigh and more nigh,And put a t las t her arms abou t his nec

Nor wa s the re any ungent le check,

Nor any frown ,or st ir d issatisfied ,

But smooth comp l iance ,and a tender s l ide

Of arm in arm,and wha t is written next.

‘D oubtless , Peoma ,thou hast been p erplex’d,

And pained oft in thinking of the

9 2 END YM I ON’

. [Boon 1 .

H ad I been us’d to pass my weary eves ;

The rather for the sun unwilling leavesSo clear a p icture of his sovere ign power,And I could witness his mos t kingly hour,When he doth t ighten up the golded re ins ,And paces le isurely down amber plainsH is snorting four . Now when his chariot lastI ts beams aga ins t the zodiac- l ion cast ,There b lossom’

d suddenly a magic bedOf sacred ditamy, and popp ies red

At which I wondered greatly , knowing we llThat but one night had wrought this flowery spe ll ;And , s itt ing down close by , began to muse

Wha t i t m ight mean . Perhaps , thought I , Morpheus ,I n pas s ing here , his owlet p in ions shook ;Or , i t may be , ere matron N ight uptookH er ebon urn , young Mercury , by s teal th ,H ad dipt his rod in

,it : such garland weal th

Came not by common growth . Thus on I thought ,Unti l my head was dizzy and distraught .Moreover , through the danc ing poppies s toleA breeze , most softly lull ing to my soul ;And shaping v is ions all about my s ightOf colours , wings , and bursts of spangly light ;The which became more s trange , and s trange , and dim,

And then were gulph’d in a tumultuous swim :

And in this spot the most endowing boonOf ba lmy air , swee t blooms , and coverts freshH as been outshed ; yes , a ll tha t could enmesh

Our human sense s m ake us fea lty swareTo gadd ing Flora . I n this gra tefu l lairH ave I been used to pass my weary eaves ;

and before these l ines were cance l led they evidently gave Keats much anxiety. I nthe first of them this was a ltered to that : the second and third he worked uponinpenc i l , transpos ing and eras ing ; but the intent ion is not now to be made out :

swa r e in the fourth stands presumably for swea r : in the fifth g adding Flor a is

struck through in penc i l , whi le I n is changed to To and back aga in to I n .

(550) I n the first ed it ion,l ig hten for tig hten .

(555) I n the manuscrip t and in the first ed ition we re ad ditamy . I have not

succeeded in find ing the orthography e lsewhere ; b ut I see no reason for doubtingtha t Keats me t with it som ewhere and prefe rred it to dittany . I n Phi lemon H ol

land '

s Pl iny,whe re it m ight have been expected to occur

, I can find no more

English equ iva lent for dictamnus than dictamne ; b ut it is worth noting that threemode rn languages drop the n and not the m — thus ,

I ta l ian dittamo, Spanish

dictamo, and French dictame and in time s when spe l l ing was more or less

optiona l some c lass ica l Eng l ish writer maywe l l have done the same .

(56 1 ) This l ine first stood in the manuscript thusOr it may b e tha t , e re sti l l N ight

Boox L] END VM I ON . 9 3

And then I fell asleep . Ah , can I tellThe enchantment that afterwards befel ?Yet i t was but a dream : yet such a dreamThat never tongue , although i t overteemWith me llow utterance , l ike a cavern spring,Could figure out and to conception br ingAll I behe ld and fe lt . Methought I layWa tching the zeni th , where the m i lky wayAmong the stars in virg in splendour pours ;And trave ll ing my eye , until the doorsOf heaven appear

’d to open for my fl ight ,I became loth and fearful to al ightFrom such high soaring by a downward glanceSo kept me steadfas t in that a iry trance ,Spreading imaginary pinions wide .

When , presently , the s tars began to gl ide ,And fa int away , before my eager viewAt which I sigh’d that I could not pursue ,And dropt my vis ion to the hori zon’s verge ;And 10 from opening clouds , I saw emerge

The love l iest moon , tha t ever silver’d o’er

A shel l for Neptune’s goblet : she did soarSo pass ionately bright , my dazzled soulComm ingl ing wi th her argent spheres did rol lThrough clear and cloudy , even when she went

At last into a dark and vapoury tentWherea t , me thought , the l idless- eyed tra inOf plane ts all were in the blue aga in .

To commune with those orbs , once more I rais’dMy s ight right upward : but i t was quite daz ’dBy a bright something , sai l ing down apace ,Making me qui ckly ve il my eyes and face :

(57 3) This l ine is given as in the manuscript and in Keats’s ed ition. That itshaltness was fe lt is perhaps ind icated by the fact that some thing has been writtenover it in penc i l and rubbed out again. I suppose we are to accentuate enchant

ment on the first syllable .

582) Cancel led manuscript read ing seemed for aff ear’

d .

£596) Compare Thomson’

s S easons , Spring ,line 332,

From c lear to c loudy tossed .

(59 9 ) Cance l led manuscript read ing , wer e a l l , for a l l wer e .

(600- 1 ) Th is coup le t stood thus in the manuscript origina llyAnd to commune with them once more I rais

’

d

My eyes right upward : but they were quitebut it is a ltered to correspond with the printed text.

9 4 END I’M ] ON . [BOOK 1.

Again I look’d , and, O ye dei ties ,Who from Olympus watch our dest inies !Whence that comple ted form of all completeness ?Whence came that high pe rfect ion of all swee tness ?Speak , stubborn earth , and te ll me where , 0 whereH as t thou a symbol of her golden hair ?Not oat-sheaves drooping in the wes tern sun ;Not thy soft hand , fair s ister ! let me shunSuch follying before thee yet she had ,

Indeed , locks bright enough to make me mad ;And they were s imply gordian’d up and bra ided ,Leaving , in naked come l iness , unshaded ,

H er pearl round ears , white neck , and orbed brow ;The which were blended in , I know not how,

With such a paradise of l ips and eyes ,B lush- tinted cheeks , half smiles , and fa intest s ighs ,That , when I think thereon , my sp iri t cl ingsAnd plays about its fancy , ti ll the s tingsOf human ne ighbourhood envenom all .

Unto wha t awful power shal l I ca l l ?To what high fane ?— Ah see her hovering feet ,More blue ly ve in’d , more soft , more whi tely swee tThan those of sea-born Venus , when she rose

From out her cradle she ll . The wind out-blowsH er scarf into a fluttering

-pavi l lion ;’T is blue , and over-spangled with a m i ll ionOf l i ttle eyes , as though thou wert to shed ,Over the darkest , lushes t blue- be ll bed ,

H andfuls of da is ies .

” Endym ion , how s trange !

D ream with in dream ! ” She took an airy range ,And then , towards me , l ike a very mai d ,Came blushing , waning , will ing , and afra id ,And press

’d me by the hand : Ah ! ’t was too much ;

Methought I fa inted at the cha rmed touch ,

Yet he ld my recol lect ion , even as one

Who dives three fathoms where the waters runGurgl ing in beds of cora l : for anon ,

621

2I n the m anuscript ,fawns is here struck out and plays inserted .

624 This trans it ion into the p resent and seem ing-a ctua l as Endym ion re latesthe vis ion that seems to him such a despera te rea l ity may perhaps be se lected as

magina tive va lue in the poem .

pt read ing ,wa st for wer t.

pt read ing ,bud-star s for daisies.

contrac ted form e'

en was de lib erate ly altered to even

9 6 END YM I ON .

Of newest joys upon that alp . Some timesA scent of viole ts , and blossom ing l imes ,Loiter

’d around us ; then of honey ce lls ,

Made de l i ca te from all white -flower bells ;And once , above the edges of our nes t ,An arch face peep’d , an Oread as I guess’d .

Why did I dream that s leep o’er-power

’d me

I n m ids t of a ll this heaven ? Why not see ,Far off, the shadows of his p inions dark ,And s tare them from me ? But no , l ike a sparkThat needs mus t die , a lthough its l i tt le beamReflects upon a diamond , my sweet dreamFel l into nothing into s tupid s leep .

And so i t was , unti l a gent le creep ,

A careful moving caught my wak ing ears ,

And up I s tarted : Ah ! my s ighs , my tears ,My clenched hands ; for 10 ! the poppies hungD ew-dabbled on the ir s ta lks , the ouzel sungA heavy ditty , and the sullen dayH ad chidden hera ld H esperus away ,With leaden looks : the solitary bree zeBluster

’d , and s lept , and its wild se lf did tea zeWith wayward me lancholy ; and I thought ,

Mark me , Peona ! tha t some times it broughtFa int fare - thee -we lls , and s igh - shril led adieus !Away I wander’d al l the pleasant huesOf heaven and earth had faded : deepest shadesWere deepes t dungeons ; heaths and sunny gladesWere fu ll of pes tilent light ; our ta intless ril lsSeem

’d sooty , and o’er-spread wi th upturn’d gi lls

[Boon I .

tinuous passage . Two fresh starts are made in p lace of H urry o’

er,name ly Sounds

past o’

er and S tanding o'

er . Then there is the who le l ineM ing l ing the whispe ring of Li ly Be l ls

and thenCam e l itt le fa inte st

Past be ing substituted for Came in the margin : then comes aga in the variantM ing led with whisperings of Li ly

Fina l ly in supp lying margina l ly the read ing of the text , Ther e wer e stor es was

a lte red to Ther e wa s stor e . The use of a lp in the s ingula r as a common noun ,

though unusua l , is not pecu l iar to Keats . M i lton has it in P ar adise Lost,Book

I I , l ine 620O

’

e r many a fiery many a frozen Alpand in Samson Ag onistes , l ine 628

Nor breath of verna l air from snowy Alp.

BOOK END VM 1 ON . 9 7

Of dying fish ; the vermei l rose had blownI n frightful scarlet , and its thorns out -grown

Like spiked a loe . I f an innocent birdBefore my heedless footsteps stirr’d , and stirr’d

I n l ittle journeys , I beheld in i tA disguis

’d demon , m iss ioned to knit

My soul with under darkness ; to enticeMy stumb lings down some mons trous precipiceTherefore I eager followed , and did curseThe disappo intment . T ime , that aged nurse ,Rock

’d me to pa tience . Now, thank gentle heaven

These things , with a ll the ir comfortings , are givenTo my down- sunken hours , and wi th thee ,Swee t s ister , help to s tem the ebbing sea

Of weary life .

Thus ended he , and bothSat s i lent : for the ma id was very lothTo answer ; feel ing we l l that breathed wordsWould all be lost , unheard , and va in as swordsAga inst the enchased crocodile , or leapsOf grasshoppers agains t the sun . She weeps ,And wonders ; struggles to devise some blame ;To put on such a look as would say, ShameOn this poor weakness ! but , for all her s trife ,

She could as soon have crush’d away the l ife

And crushed out l ives , by . secret barbarous ways .

From a s ick dove . At length , to break the pause ,She sa id wi th trembling chance I s this the cause ?

This all ? Ye t i t is strange , and sad , a las !That one who through this m iddle earth should passMost l ike a sojourning dem i-god ,

and leaveH is name upon the harp- s tring , should achieveN0 higher bard than s imple ma idenhood ,(7 1 9 ) Compare Thom son

’

3 S ea sons,Winter

,l ine 37 4

And crushed out l ives,by secre t barba rousways .

(7 22) There 1 5 a reje cted passage he re in the manuscript , which stands thusThis a ll ? Ye t it is wonde rfu l exceed ingAnd ye t a sha l low d ream

,for eve r breed ing

Tempestuous Wea ther in tha t ve ry Sou lTha t shou ld be twice content

,twice smooth , twice who le ,

As is a double Peach .

'

T is sad Alas

I n a ltering this for the read ing of the text Keats left the l ine thus , short by a foot,Th is a ll Ye t it is sad Ala s !

The words str ang e and seem to have be en put in in p roof.

9 8 END YM I ON . [Boon 1 .

S inging a lone , and fearfully , how the bloodLeft his young cheek ; and how he us

’d to s trayH e knew not where ; and how he would say, nay ,

I f any sa id ’t was love : and yet

’t was love ;Wha t could i t be but love ? H ow a ring-dove

Le t fa ll a sprig of yew tree in his path ;And how he di’d : and then , that love doth scathe ,The gentle heart , as northern blas ts do roses ;And then the bal lad of his sad l ife closesWith s ighs , and an alas Endym ion !Be ra ther in the trumpet’s mouth , ‘

anon

Among the winds at large that al l may hearken !Although , before the crystal heavens darken ,

I wa tch and dote upon the silver lakesPictur

’d in wes tern cloudiness , tha t takesThe semblance of gold rocks and br ight gold sands ,Is lands , and creeks , and amber-fretted s trandsWith horses pranc ing o

’er them , palaces

And towers of ame thyst , would I so teazeMy pleasant days , because I could not mountInto those reg ions ? The Morphean fountOf tha t fine e lement that vis ions , dreams ,And fitful whims of sleep are made of, streamsInto its a iry channe ls with so subtle ,So thin a breathing , not the spider’s shuttle ,Circled a m i ll ion t imes within the spaceOf a swallow’

s nes t-door , could de lay a trace ,

A tint ing of its qua l i ty : how l ightMus t dreams themse lves be ; see ing they’re more s l ightThan the m ere nothing that engenders themThen wherefore sully the entrus ted gemOf high and noble l ife wi th thoughts so s ick ?Why p ierce high - fronted honour to the quickFor noth ing but a dream ? H ereat the youthLook

’d up : a confl ict ing of shame and ruth

Was in his p la ited brow : yet , his eye l ids

(7 27 )The adjective young be fore blood is struck out in the manuscript.

(7 39 Wha t thoug h is here a lte red in the manuscript to Al thoug h.

(7 4 1 ) I n the manuscript, P zght among was the first read ing here , then Pig /it

amid ,and fina l ly Pietur ’

a’

in .

(7 4 7 ) Tha t a ltered to The in the manuscript before M orphean .

(7 56) I n the m anuscrip t , nothing ness eng endr zng for nothing that eng ender s.

(7 6 1 ) Apparent ly confl icting is meant to be accented on the first syllabl e in thisp lace .

(7 62) I n the manuscr iptpleated forp laited.

1 00 EN D YM I ON . [Boon 1 .

Ful l alchemiz ’d , and free of space . BeholdThe clear re l igion of heaven ! FoldA rose leaf round thy finger’s taperness ,And soothe thy lips : his t , when the a iry s tressOf mus ic’s kiss impregnates the free winds ,And wi th a sympathe t i c touch unbindsAiolian magic from the ir luc id wombsThen old songs waken from enclouded tombs ;Old ditt ies s igh above the ir father’s grave ;Ghosts of m e lodious prophecyings raveRound every spot where trod Apollo’

s foot ;B ronze clarions awake , and fa intly brui t ,Where long ago a g iant ba ttle was ;And , from the turf, a lullaby doth passI n every place where infant Orpheus s lept .Fee l we these things ? that moment have we steptInto a sort of oneness , and our sta teI s l ike a floating spirit’s . But there are

Richer entanglements , enthra lments farMore self-destroying , leading , by degrees ,To the ch ief intens ity : the crown of theseI s made of love and friendship , and s i ts highUpon the forehead of humani ty .

All its more ponderous and bulky worthI s friendship , whence there ever issues forthA s teady splendour ; but at the tip—top ,

There hangs by unseen film , an orbed dropOf l ight , and tha t is love : its influence ,Thrown in our eyes , genders a nove l sense ,At which we start and fret ; till in the end ,

Me lting into its radiance , we blend ,M ingle , and so become a part of i t ,Nor wi th aught e lse can our souls interkni tSo wingedly : when we combine therewi th ,Life’s self is nourish’d by its proper pith ,(7 85) Cance l led l ine in the manuscrip t

And,sympathe tica l ly, unconfines

struck out doubt less on account of the fa lse rhyme .

(7 86) E olian in the firs t edition.

(7 90) I n the manuscript trod is substituted for touch’

d. The first edi tion haswer e in p lace of wher e but it is wher e in the manuscr ipt.(7 9 4 ) I n the manuscript , spot is struck out in favour ofp la ce .

(7 9 6) Unhapp i ly the m anuscrip t g ives no tra ce of the line which m ay we l l haved isappeared in transcrip tion and le ft this one rhyme less .

(8 1 3) I n the manuscript, ama lg amate or ig ina lly stood in the p lace of combine .

Boox L ] EN D YM I ON . 1 0 1

And we are nurtured like a pel ican brood .

Aye , so de l icious is the unsat ing food ,That men , who m ight have tower’d in the vanOf all the congregated world , to fanAnd winnow from the com ing step of timeAll chaff of custom , wipe away all sl imeLeft by men-s lugs and human serpentry ,H ave been content to let occas ion die ,Whils t they did s leep in love’s e lys ium .

And , truly , I would rather be s truck dumb ,Than speak aga inst this ardent l istlessnessFor I have ever thought that i t m ight blessThe world wi th benefits unknowingly ;As does the n ightingale , upperched high ,And cloister

’d among cool and bunched leavesShe s ings but to her love , nor e’er conce ivesH ow tiptoe N ight holds back her dark-grey hood .

Jus t so may love , although ’t is unders tood

The mere comm ingl ing of pass ionate breath ,P roduce more than our searching wi tnessethWha t I know not : but who , of men , can tel lTha t flowers would bloom , or that green frui t wouldTo melt ing pulp , tha t fish would have bright ma il ,The earth its dower of r iver , wood , and vale ,The meadows runnels ; runnels pebble-stones ,The seed its harves t , or the lute its tones ,Tones ravishment , or ravishment its sweetI f human souls did never kiss and greet ?

Now, if this earthly love has power to makeMen

’s be ing mortal , immorta l ; to shake

Ambition from t he ir memories , and brimTheir measure of content ; what merest whim ,

Seems all this poor endeavour after fame ,

To one , who keeps wi thin his s tedfast aimA love immorta l , an immortal too .

(823) Cance l led manuscript read ing ,I/Vhiles for Whilst .

(844 ) M an’

s instead ofM en’

s in the manuscript , but there is an e pencil led overthe a as if for cons iderat ion.

(84 7 ) This l ine origina l ly began with Shews , —a ltered in the manuscript toSeems .

(849 ) I n the manuscript thusA Love immorta l, and immorta l too.

The zm of the first immor ta l is underlined in penc i l and the word hoth penc i l ledover ; b ut it is not c lear whether the writ ing is Keats

'

s . I n his ed ition we have an

for and, which appears to b e the right reading ,though from the bewi lderment oi

END YM I ON . [BOOK 1.

Look not so wilder’d ; for these things are true ,And never can be born of atom iesThat buzz about our s lumbers , l ike bra in-flies ,Leaving us fancy-s i ck . No , no, I

’m sure ,

My rest less sp iri t never could endureTo brood so long upon one luxury ,Unless i t did , though fearfu lly , espyA hope beyond the shadow of a dream .

My sayings wi ll the less obscured seem ,

When I have told thee how my waking s ightH as made me scruple whether that same nightWas pass

’d in dream ing . H earken , swee t Peona !Beyond the matron- temple of La tona ,Which we should see but for these darkening boughs ,Lies a deep hol low, from whose ragged browsBushes and trees do lean all round athwart ,And mee t so nearly , that with wings outraught ,And spreaded ta i l , a vu lture could not gl idePas t them , but he mus t brush on every s ide .

Some moulder’d s teps lead into this cool cel l ,

Far as the slabbed margin of a well ,Whose patient leve l peeps its crystal eyeRight upward , through the bushes , to the sky.

Oft have I brought thé e flowers , on the ir s ta lks setLike vesta l primroses , but dark ve lvetEdges them round , and they have golden pi ts’T was there I got them , from the gaps and sl i tsI n a mossy s tone , tha t some times was my seat ,When all above was fa int wi th mid-day heat .And there in s trife no burning thoughts to heed ,I ’d bubble up the water through a reed ;So reaching back to boy-hood : make me shipsOf moulted feathers , touchwood , alder chips ,With leaves stuck in them ; and the Neptune beOf the ir pe tty ocean . Oftener , heav i ly ,When love - lorn hours had left me less a child ,I sat contemplat ing the figures wi ld

Peona we may p resume that Kea ts saw his meaning was not very c lear . Theargument seem s to b e

,if a m ere earthly love has power to remove ambition.how

much more unworthy an object must fame seem to him who cherishes an undyinglove for an immorta l be ing .

(862) Cance l led m anuscript read in B ehind the litt le Temp le .

(867 ) The word spr eaded ,notwit s tand ing the objections of

Review, was used aga in in Hyperion ,Book I ,

And now,from forth the g loom the ir p lumes immense

Rose one by one , til l all outsp readed were

1 04 END YM I ON . [Boon 1.

Aye , such a breathless honey-fee l of blissAlone preserv’d me from the drear abyssOf death , for the fa ir form had gone aga in .

Pleasure is oft a vis itant ; but pa inCl ings crue lly to us , l ike the gnawing s lothOn the deer’s tender haunches : late , and loth ,

’T is sear

’d away by s low returning p leasure .

H ow s ickening ,how dark the dreadful le isure

Of weary days , made deeper e xquis ite ,By a fore -knowledge of uns lumbrous n ight !Like sorrow came upon me , heavier s ti ll ,Than when I wander’d from the poppy hillAnd a whole age of l ingering moments creptS luggishly by , ere more contentm ent sweptAway at once the deadly yellow spleen .

Yes , thrice have I this fa ir enchantment se en ;Once more been tortured wi th renewed life .

When las t the wintry gusts gave over s trifeWith the conquering sun of spr ing , and left the skiesWarm and serene , but ye t with mois tened eyesI n pity of the shatter

’d infant buds ,That t ime thou dids t adorn , wi th amber s tuds ,My hunting cap , because I laugh’d and smil

’d ,

Chatted wi th thee , and many days exil’d

All torment from my breas t ; ’t wa s even then,

S traying about , yet , coop’d up in the den

Of he lpless discontent , hurl ing my lanceFrom place to place , and following a t chance ,At last , by hap , through some young trees i t s truck ,And , plashing among bedded pebbles , s tuckI n the m iddle of a brook , whose s i lver rambleD own twenty little fa lls , through reeds and bramble ,Tracing a long , i t brought m e to a cave ,

Whence i t ran bright ly forth , and whi te did laveThe nether s ides of mossy stones and rock ,’Mong which i t gurgled blythe adieus , to mockI ts own swee t grief at part ing . Overhead ,H ung a lush screen of droop ing weeds , and spread(9 1 5) Cance l led m anuscript read ing , pass

’

d for cr ept .

(9 26) Cance l led m anuscript read ing ,heg a zl

'

d for ex il’

d .

(9 33) I n the m anuscr ipt , the words I n the a re he re contra cted to I’

th’

.

(940) The m isprint of the first ed it ion,scene for scr een ,

is corrected in the copyin my possession . The printer was not m uch to blame

,for in the manuscript the

word is screen ,an orthography, by the bye , which the manuscrip t again shows in

Book 1 1 1 , l ine 4 25.

Boox EN D YM I OI V. 1 05

Thick , as to curta in up some wood-nymph’s home .

Ah ! impious morta l , whither do I roam ? ”Sa id I , low voic

’d : Ah , whither ! ’T is the grot

Of Proserpine , when H e ll , obscure and hot ,D oth her res ign ; and where her tender handsShe dabbles , on the cool and s luicy sands :Or

’t is the ce ll of Echo , where she s i ts ,

And babbles thorough s i lence , till her wi tsAre gone in tender madness , and anon ,Faints into s leep , with many a dying toneOf sadness . O tha t she would take my vows ,And brea the them s ighingly among the boughs ,To sue her gentle ears for whose fa ir head ,D a i ly , I pluck sweet flowerets from the ir bed ,

And weave them dyingly send honey-whispersRound every leaf, tha t a ll those gent le l ispersMay s igh my love unto her p ityingO charitable echo hear , and s ingThis ditty to her tell her ” - so I stay’d

My foo l ish tongue , and l isten ing ,ha lf afra id

,

S tood s tupefied wi th my own empty folly ,And blushing for the freaks of

'me lancholy.

Sal t tears were com ing , when I heard my name

Mos t fondly lipp’d , and then these accents came

Endym ion the cave is secre terThan the is le of D e los . Echo hence sha l l stirNo s ighs but s igh -warm kisses , or l ight noiseOf thy combing hand , the while it trave ll ing cloysAnd trembles through my labyrinthine ha ir .

”

At that oppress’d I hurried in . Ah ! whereAre those swift moments ? Whither are they fled ?I’l l sm ile no more , Peona ; nor wi l l wedSorrow the way to death ; but patiently(9 60) I n the manuscript , listening is contracted to list

’

ning .

(9 64 ) There is a cance l led passage here in the manuscrip t after M ostfindlylipp

’

d,thus

I kept me st i ll it came

Aga in in passionate st syllables ,And thus aga in that vo 1 ce‘ s tender swe lls

a nd there is another rejected read ing of one l ineAga in in pass ionate syl lables : saying

(9 69 ) I n the m anuscript labyrinthian for labyr inthine .

(9 7 0) The words At tha t oppress’

d I hurried in are struck out of the manuscriptthough restored by a S tet

,and in the marg in we have Since then 1 never and }

never saw her Beauty mor e , both cance l led.

[Boon 1 .

Bear up aga ins t it : so farewe l , sad s igh ;And come instead demures t meditation ,

To occupy me wholly , and to fashionMy pi lgrimage for the world’s dusky brink .

No more wil l I count over , l ink by link ,My cha in of gr ief : no longer s trive to findA ha lfiforgetfulness in mounta in windB lustering about my ears : aye , thou shal t see ,D eares t of s isters , what my l ife sha l l be ;What a ca lm round of hours shal l 'make my days .

There is a paly flame of hope that playsWhere’er I look : but yet , I’l l say ’t is naught

And here I bid it die . H ave not I caught ,Already , a more heal thy countenance ?By this the sun is se tt ing ; we may chanceMee t some of our near-dwe llers wi th my car .

This sa id , he rose , faint-sm il ing l ike a s tarThrough autumn m is ts , and took Peona’s handThey s tept into the boat , and launch’

d from land .

(9 90) Cance lled manuscript read ing , At this for This said.

1 08 END YM I ON . [Boon 1 1 .

Swart planet in the universe of deeds !Wide sea , that one continuous murmur breedsAlong the pebbled shore of memory !Many old rotten-timber

’d boats there beUpon thy vaporous bosom , magnify

’d

To goodly vesse ls ; many a sa il of pride ,

And golden keel’d , is left unlaunch’d and dry.

But wherefore this ? What care , though owl did flyAbout the great Athenian adm ira l’s mas t ?What care , though s triding Ale xander pas tThe Indus with his Macedon ian numbers ?Though old U lysses tortured from his s lumbersThe glutted Cyclops , wha t care ? —j ul ie t leaningAm id her window-flowers , - s ighing ,

— wean ingTenderly her fancy from its ma iden snow,

D oth more ava i l than these : the s i lver flowOf H ero

’s tears , the swoon of Imogen ,

Fa ir Pastore l la in the bandit’s den ,

Are things to brood on with more ardencyThan the death -day of empires . FearfullyMust such conv i ct ion come upon his head ,Who , thus far , discontent , has dar’d to tread ,Without one muse

’s sm i le , or kind behest ,

The path of love and poesy . But rest ,coup le t ; for Woodhouse

, who ,b e it ob served

,da te s his interleaved copy Nov. 24 ,

records that he has le arne d that the au thor meant embr ace .

”H e says

This a l lus ion I apprehend is to Chaucer’s and not to Shakesp eare ’

s work under

this tit le . But I inc l ine to think the reference more l ike ly to b e to Shakespea re '

s,

a lbe i t both were among Keats’

s reading .

( 1 9 ) The rejected read ing misty for vapor ous has p la ce in the draft ; and the

finished m anuscript reads uap'

r ous,contracted.

(27 - 30) I n the draft the fo l lowing l ines are cance l led for the read ing of the textalu lie t leans

Am id her window flowers , s ighs , an a s she weansH er ma id en thoughts from the ir young firs tling snow,

What sorrows from the m e lt ing wh iteness grow.

And there is another cance l led read ing of l ine 29 ,

Tend erly from the ir first young snow her maiden breast.(31 ) The reference is of course not to the story of H ero and Leander but to the

tears of H e ro in M uch Ado about N othing , shed when she wa s fa lse ly a ccused ; andI mogen must , equa l ly of course , b e Shakespeare ’

s hero ine in Cymbeline ,tho h she

is not the only I mogen of fiction who ha s swooned. For Pastore l la see aerie

Queene , Book V I , Canto I I,stanza 1 et seg.

(34 ) The orig ina l read ing in the draft I SThen the death of Emp ires . H ow fearful ly.

(36) Rejected read ing from the draft , ha lt and lame for discon

(38) The draft affords here a curious comment on the prec ise va lue of the word

BOOK I L] END YM I ON . 1 09

I n chaffing restlessness , is yet more drearThan to b e crush

’d , in s triv ing to uprear

Love’s s tandard on the battlements of song .

So once more days and n ights aid me a long ,

Like legion’d soldiers .

Bra in- s ick shepherd prince ,What prom ise has t thou fa ithful guarded s inceThe day of sacrifice ? Or , have new sorrows

Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows ?

Alas ! ’tis his old gr ief. For many days ,

H as he been wander ing in uncerta in waysThrough wi lderness , and woods of mossed oaks ;Counting his woe -worn m inutes , by the s trokesOf the lone woodcutter ; and l is tening s til l ,H our after hour , to each lush- leav’d r i ll .Now he is s itt ing by a shady spr ing ,

And e lbow-deep with feverous fingeringS tems the upburst ing cold '

a wild rose treePavill ions him in bloom , and he doth seeA bud which snares his fancy : 10 ! but nowH e plucks i t , dips its s talk in the wa ter : how !

r est as emp loyed on this occa s ion . Wha t wa s orig ina lly written was To r est I nchafing discontent. Though the verb to r est is a common equ iva lent for to r emain

,

the noun r est ha s usua l ly a sense of recupe ra tion after labour ; b ut its meaninghere is p robably , cons idering how it cam e he re,m e re ly inact ivity

,without the re

cuperative ar r iér e pensée . The fina l manuscript and the p rinted book both perpetuate the word chafing for chafing . Spenser Spe l ls the wo rd with twof ’

s , but

with a u a lso ,thus (Fa erie Queene, Book V I , Canto I I

,stanza 2 1 )

After long search and chauff he turned backe .

(43) I n the draft sturdy was orig ina l ly wr itten in the p lace of leg lan’

d ; and inthe finished m anuscript is the cance l led read ing Fainting for B r ain-sich. Throughcount ing this broken l ine a s two

,the pr inter numbered l ine 4 9 as 50 in the first

ed ition ,thus throwing out the who le of the numbering to the end of Book I I and

the m etrica l number ing is further fa ls ified in two s im i la r instances furthe r on.

(44 ) S ee the p rom ises recorded in l ines 4 7 7 et seq. and 9 7 8 et seq . of Book I .

24 9 ) The words brittle mossed aahs occur in the d raft for woods of mossed oahs .

51 ) Cance l led read ing in the draft distant , and in the m anuscr ipt lonely, for lone .

(52) This l ine is prec ise ly a ccord ing to the manuscrip t and the first ed ition,so

that there can b e no doubt the word hour is to b e scanned first as one syl lable andthen a s two .

(53) E'

en now he’

s occurs in the draft in p lace ofN ow he is .

The draft g ives the read ing B ends lig htly over him for P avil lions him inoom .

(57 ) I n the draft, tahes for snar es .

58) I n the manuscrip t , in wa s or ig ina l ly contracted to i’; but in is inserted as a.

correction.

I I 0 END YM I ON . [Boon n.

I t swells , i t buds , i t flowers beneath his s ight ;And , in the m iddle , there is softly p ightA golden butterfly ; upon whos e wingsThere mus t be surely charac ter’d s trange things ,For with wide eye he wonders , and sm i les oft .

Lightly this l itt le hera ld flew a loft ,Follow

’

d by g lad Endym ion’s clasped hands

Onward it fl ies . From languor’s sullen bandsH is l imbs are loos

’d , and eager , on he hiesD azzled to trace i t in the sunny skies .

I t seem’

d he flew, the way so easy was ;And l ike a new-born sp irit did he passThrough the green e vening qu ie t in the sun ,

O’er many a heath , t hrough many a woodland dun,

Through buried paths , whe re s leepy twi light dreamsThe summer t ime away . One track unseemsA wooded cleft , and , far away , the blueOf ocean fades upon him ; then , anew,

H e s inks adown a sol itary glen ,

Where there was never sound of morta l men ,

Saving , perhaps , some snow- l ight cadencesMe lt ing to s ilence , when upon the bree zeSome holy bark le t forth an anthem swee t ,To cheer i tse lf to D e lphi . S t i l l his fee tWent swift benea th the me rry-winged guide ,Unti l i t reach’d a splashing fomntain’

s s ide .

(59)Cance l led m anuscript read ing , blooms forfl ower s .

(60 The orig ina l read ing of the draft was in its middle. The word pight (forpitched) , occurs in Tr oilus and Cr essida (V , Lear ( I I , and Spenser

’

s Faer ie

Queene, Book I I I , Canto V I I,stanza 4 1 ,

Or on the marble Pillour tha t is p ightUpon the top ofMount O lympus

(67 568) The draft g ives two rejected read ings of this coup letH is l imbs are loos’d

,and eagerly he paces

With nimble fee t beneath its a iry traces

H is limbs are loos ’d,and eagerly he traces

W ith nimble footsteps a ll its a iry paces .

The draft readspa th for way.

The origina l reading of the d raft is Thr o’

woody cl ey‘l .

The dra ft has Thawing in p lace ofM elting .

This l ine was written in the d raftWent swift beneath the fl utte r-loving

The express ion fl utter- loving was struck ou t ; but nothing was Substituted til l theread ing of the text was supplied in the finished manuscript , in which, in the next

line , he was origina l ly where it now stands.

I I 2 EN D YM I OI V. [BOOK I I .

A virgin l ight to the deep ; my grotto-sandsTawny and gold , ooz ’d s lowly from far landsBy my di ligent springs ; my leve l li ll ies , shells ,My charm ing rod , my potent river spe lls ;Yes , every th ing , even to the pearly cupMeander gave me , for I bubbled upTo fa inting crea tures in a desert wi ld .

But woe is me , I am but as a childTo gladden thee ; and a ll I dare to say,I s , that I p ity thee ; tha t on this dayI’ve been thy guide ; that thou mus t wander farI n other reg ions , pas t the scanty barTo mortal s teps , before thou cans

’t be ta’enFrom every wast ing s igh , from every pa in ,

Into the gentle bosom of thy love .

Why it is thus , one knows in heaven aboveBut , a poor Na iad , I guess not . Farewe ll !I have a di tty for my hollow ce ll .

H ereat , she vanished from Endym ion’s gaze ,Who brooded o’

er the water in ama ze :

The dashing fount pour’d on , and where its poolLay, ha lf asleep , in grass and rushes cool ,Quick waterflies and gnats were sporting s till ,And fish were dimpl ing , as if good nor i l lH ad fa llen out that hour . The wanderer ,H olding his forehead , to keep ofl

'

the burrOf smothering fanc ies , pat iently sat downAnd , while beneath the evening’s s leepy frown

Variation in the dra ft,water for r iver .

I n the manuscript , e '

en for even .

The draft reads a l l that I may say.

The read ing some hnaw for one hnows occurs in the d raft, where the nexttwo l ines were first written

But,a poor N a iad

, I guess not nor te l lFarewe l l I must away to my ho l low ce l l

and then as in the text,b ut w ith I ’

ve a new ditty for I have a ditty.

( 1 31—4 ) These two coup lets orig inal ly s tood in the draft thusH erea t

,she vanish

'

d from the l istene r's gaze ,Whose sou l kept o ’

er the water in am aze ;The dashing fa ll pour 'd on ,

and whe re the poo lCrept smooth ly by fre sh grass and rushe s coo l

( I Rejected read ing from the draft , drowning for smothering .

f( 1 Cance l led read ings , from the draft gentle, and from the manuscript mild

or s

Boon END YM I ON 1 1 3

G low-worms began to trim the ir s tarry lamps ,Thus breath’d he to himse lf : Whoso encamps

To take a fanc ied ci ty of de l ight ,O what a wretch is he and when ’

tis his ,After long toi l and trave ll ing , to m issThe kerne l of his hopes , how more than vileYe t , for him there’s refreshment even in toi l ;Another c i ty doth he set about ,Free from the smallest pebble-bead of doubtThat he wil l se i ze on tr ickling honey- combsAlas , he finds them dry ; and then he foams ,And onward to another c ity speeds .

But this is human l ife : the war , the deeds ,The disappointment , the anx iety ,Imagination’s s truggles , far and nigh ,All human ; bear ing in themse lves this good ,That they are still the air , the subtle food ,To make us fee l e xistence , and to showH ow quie t death is . Where soi l is m en grow,

Whether to weeds or flowers ; but for me ,There is no depth to s trike in : I can see

Nought earthly worth my compass ing ; so s tandUpon a m isty , jutting head of landAlone ? No , no ; and by the Orphean lute ,When mad Eurydice is l is tening to’t ;I’d rather stand upon this m is ty peak ,

( 1 43) The m anner in which the rhyme to this l ine was lost appears from the

draft,where the passage or igina l ly stood thus

Whoso encampsH is sou l to take a c ity of de l ight0what a wretch is he : ’

tis in his

Then ’

tis in his sight was struck out in favour of and when ’

tis his ; but nothing wasdone ,

in transcribmg for the p ress , to rem edy the defect thus produced .

( 1 45) The orig ina l read ing in the draft wa s After long sieg e and tr availing ; b ut

the finished manuscript reads toil and tr avel l ing a s in the text.g1 47 ) The draft reads e

'

en for even .

1 4 9 ) I n the first ed it ion, pebbl e-head ; b ut in the manuscr ipt , pebble-bead, which

read ing is re stored in the corre c ted copy in my possess ion. The draft reads Without for Fr ee fr om ,

and in the next l ine ther e he '

l l for he wil l .

( 1 53) I n the draft,a cts for war .

( 1 55) I magining s and sear ching s , in the draft.

( 1 58 ) I n the first ed ition ,shew.

(1 59 ) H er e is soil to g r ow wa s orig ina l ly written in the draft.1 64 ) I n the d raft

, A lone N o,heavens

( 1 66) Origina l ly written I ’

d r a ther bide, in the draft.

I I 4 END YM I ON . [BOOK 1 1.

With not a thing to s igh for , or to seek ,But the soft shadow of my thri ce-seen love ,

Than be — I care not what . O meekest doveOf heaven ! O Cynthia , ten- times bright and fair !From thy blue throne , now fill ing all the air ,G lance but one l i ttle beam of temper

’d lightInto my bosom , that the dreadful m ightAnd tyranny of love be somewhat scar’d !Yet do not so , swee t queen ; one torment spar’d ,Woul d give a pang to jea lous m isery ,Worse than the torment’s se lf : but rather tieLarge wings upon my shoulders , and point outMy love’s far dwe ll ing . Though the playful routOf cupids shun thee , too divine art thou ,

Too keen in beauty , for thy s ilver prowNot to have dipp’d in love’s mos t gentle stream .

0 be propit ious , nor severe ly deemMy madness impious ; for , by all the s tarsTha t tend thy bidding , I do th ink the barsThat kept my spiri t in are burs t that IAm sa il ing wi th thee through the dizzy sky !H ow beautiful thou art ! The world how deep !H ow tremulous -dazzl ingly the whee ls sweepAround the ir a xle ! Then these gleam ing re ins ,H ow l i the ! When this thy chariot attainsI ts a iry goal , haply some bower ve i lsThose twil ight eyes ? Those eyes my spiri t failsD ear goddess , he lp ! or the wide-

gaping air

Will gulph me help ! —At this wi th madden’d stare ,

( 1 67 ) The orig ina l vers ion of this l ine in the draft isW ith nought to long for, s igh for , or to seek .

( 1 68) For the three occas ions on which Endym ion had seen Diana,refer to the

account given to Peona ; b eginning with line 540, Book I ,—to the passage aboutthe we l l , l ine 896, Book I , and to the passage in which he hurr ied into the grotto ,

line 9 7 1 , Book I .The or ig ina l read ing of the draft was I hnaw not in p lace of I car e not.The word sha rp occurs in the draft in p lace of heen.

I n the d raft this l ine has three tentat ive openings , H ow silently and tr emmu lous

,H ow tr emulous and daz z l ing .

( 1 9 1 ) the rejected rea d ing, When this thy silent chariot g ains ;and in the next two l ines

hap ly thou veilst thine eyesI n some fresh bower .

I n supp lying the read ing of the text Kea ts firs t wrote Those liquid eyes.

( 1 9 5) The draft reads Oh for help and in the next line b ut one wondering al

for mountain’

d o'

er .

I I 6 END YM I GI V. [BOOK 1 1,

Sharpening , by degrees , his appet iteTo dive into the deepest . D ark nor l ight ,The region ; nor bright , nor sombre whol ly ,But m ingled up ; a gleam ing me lancholy ;A dusky emp ire and its diadems ;One fa int e ternal e venti de of gems .

Aye , m i l lions sparkled on a ve in of gold ,Along whose track the prince quick foots teps told ,With al l its l ines abrupt and angularOut-shooting some t imes , l ike a me teor- star ,Through a vas t antre ; then the meta l woof,Like Vulcan’s ra inbow, wi th some monstrous roofCurves huge ly : now, far in the deep abyss ,I t seems an angry lightning , and doth hissFancy into be l ief : anon i t leadsThrough winding passages , where sameness breedsVe x ing conceptions of some sudden change ;Whether to s i lver grots , or g iant rangeOf sapphire columns , or fantas tic bridgeAthwart a flood of crys tal . On a ridgeNow fare th he , that o’

e r the vas t beneathTowers l ike an ocean- cliff, and whence he see thA hundred waterfalls , whose voices come

But as the murmur ing surge . Chi lly and numbH is bosom grew, when firs t he , far away ,D escry

’d an orbed diamond , se t to fray

Old darkness from his throne : ’twas l ike the sun

Uprisen o’er chaos : and with such a s tun

Came the amazement , that , absorb’d in i t ,H e saw not fiercer wonders pas t the witOf any spiri t to te ll , but one of thoseWho , when this plane t’s sphering t ime doth c lose ,(227 -30) I n the draft this passage was written a s fo l lows

Whose track the venturous Latmian fo l lows bo ldThro’

a ll its l ines abrup t and angu lar :And som e tim es like a shooting me teor sta r

Past a vas t antre ’

s g loom .

The read ing of the text is in the finished manuscript , where ,howeve r

,l ine 230 wasfirs t written

Past a large Antre ; then the m eta l231 ) The draft reads o

'

er for with , and m the next l ine a for the .

236) I n the draft this l ine beg ins wi th D iz zy instead of Vexing .

240) The draft supp l ies two rejec ted read ings , Sometimes he far es and Samtimes he went.

$24 3) The drafi reads a in p lace of the .

24 8) I n the draft we read this for the.

BOOK I L] E I VD YM I ON . I I 7

Will be its high remembrances : who they ?The m ighty ones who have made eterna l dayFor G reece and England . While astonishmentWith deep-drawn s ighs was quiet ing , he wentInto a marble gal lery , pass ing throughA m im ic temple , so complete and trueI n sacred custom , that he we ll nigh fear’dTo search i t inwards ; whence far off appear’d ,

Through a long pi l lar’d vis ta , a fa ir shrine ,And , just beyond , on l ight tiptoe divine ,A quiver

’d D ian . S tepping awful ly ,The youth approach’d ; oft turning his veil’d eye

D own s idelong a isles , and into niches old .

And when , more near aga inst the marble coldH e had touch

’d his forehead , he began to thread

All courts and passages , where s ilence deadRous

’d by his whispering footsteps murmured fa int

And long he travers’d to and fro , to acqua intH imse lf wi th every mystery , and awe ;T i l l , weary , he sat down before the maw

Of a wide outlet , fa thom less and dim ,

To wi ld uncerta inty and shadows grim .

There , when new wonders ceas’d to float before ,

And thoughts of se lf came on , how crude and sore

The journey homeward to habitua l se lf !A mad-

pursuing of the fog-born e lf,

(253- 4 ) Origina l ly written in the draftThe m ighty ones who’ve shone athwart the dayOf Greece and Eng land.

(256-7 ) Cance l led read ing from the draft

I nto a marble ga l lery that near the roofOf a fair m im ic Temp le.

(261 -3) Cance l led read ing from the draft

Thro’

a long vis t’ of columns a fa ir shrineAnd just beyond l ight ly d im inishedA D ian quiver'd tiptoe , crescented

264 ) The draft reads sideway ais les .

266) I n the manuscript tr ead stands here a ltered to thr ead.

267 ) The draft read s The for A l l .269 ) The words to acquaint in the manuscr ipt are contracted to t

’

acquaint.27 0

- 2) I n the draft ,

H im se lfwith every mystery , unti lH is weary legs he rested on the s i l lOf some rem otest chamber

,outlet

(37 7 ) The draft reads That forA,

I I 8 EN D YM I ON . [BOOK 1 1 .

Whose fl itting lantern , through rude nettle -briar ,Cheats us into a swamp , into a fire ,Into the bosom of a hated thing .

What m isery most drowningly doth singI n lone Endym ion’s ear , now he has raughtThe goal of consc iousness ? Ah,

’tis the thought ,

The deadly fee l of sol itude : for 10 !H e cannot see the heavens , nor the flowOf rivers , nor hill-flowers running wi ldI n pink and purple chequer , nor , up-

pil’d ,

The cloudy rack s low journeying in the west ,Like herded e lephants ; nor fe lt , nor prestCool grass , nor tas ted the fresh s lumberous air ;But far from such companionship to wearAn unknown t ime , surcharg

’d wi th gr ief, away ,Was now his lot . And must he pat ient s tay ,Trac ing fantas tic figures wi th his spear ?

6‘No exclaim’d he , why should I tarry here ? ”

No ! loudly echoed times innumerable .

At which he s tra ightway s tarted , and ’

gan te llH is paces back into the temple’s chief ;Warm ing and glowing strong in the bel iefOf help from Dian : so that when aga inH e caught her a iry form , thus did he pla in ,

(27 8) The origina l read ing of the draft a t this point isWhose fl itt ing Lante rn , through rude nettle-beds,Cheats us into a bog, cutt ings and shredsOf o ld V exa t ions p la 1 ted to a ropeWhe rewi th to hau l us from the s ight of hope ,And bind u s to our earthly baiting-ring .

These l ines were cop ied into the finished manuscript with the varia tions Swamp forbog ,

dr ag for hau l , and bind forfix . The pas sage a s it s tands in the text is supp l iedin the m arg in of the manuscript. The grotesque imageryof the earl ier version re

m inds u s,inits rude vigour , tha t Keats had actua l lywitnessed,

and forc ibly describedto C larke ,

a bear-ba it ing .

(282) The fina l word in this l ine is clearly r aug ht in the m anuscript , thoughcaug ht in the first e d it ion. As the obso lete word occurs often in Shakespeare andm akes sense , while the other doe s not

,we are justified in restor ing it , especia lly

see ing tha t it appe ars e lsewhere in Endymion (see Book I , l ine(290) I n the d raft

,the fr ee s leepy a ir .

(29 4;The d raft reads D r awing for Tr acing .

(29 7 The read ing of the draft is r oused, and g an to tel l , and in the next l ine b utone g r owing for g lowing .

(301 ) The draft readsthus gan he pla in,

Pac ing towards the while .

The finished manuscript reads M oving towar ds the while : The read ing of the text

must have been a correct ion of the proof,

1 20 END YM /ON . [Boon 1 1 .

0 think how this dry pala te would rejoiceI f in soft s lumber thou dos t hear my voice ,0 think how I should love a bed of flowers !Young goddess let m

’

e see my native bowers !D e l iver me from this rapacious deep !Thus ending loudly , as he would o’erleap

H is des tiny , a lert he s tood : but whenObs tinate s i lence came heavily aga in ,

Fee l ing about for its old couch of spaceAnd a iry cradle , lowly bow’

d his faceD esponding , o

’

er the marble floor’s cold thri l l .But ’twas not long ; for , swee ter than the r il lTo its old channe l , or a swol len t ideTo marg in sa llows , were the leaves he spied ,And flowers , and wreaths , and ready myrt le crowns

Up heaping through the slab : refreshment drownsI tse lf, and s tr ives its own de lights to hideNor in one spot alone ; the flora l prideI n a long whispering birth enchanted grewBefore his foots teps ; as when heav’d anew

Old ocean rolls a lengthened wave to the shore ,

(330) I n the draft , would instead of shou ld ; Oh for Young in the next l ine ; andthe next l ine but one reads

L ift me , oh l ift me from this horrid de ep !(335) I n the draft , cloudily came is cance l led in favour of came heavily ; and the

next coup le t orig ina l ly stood thusFee l ing its way to its o ld couch of spaceAnd any crad le b e bent down his face .

I n the finished m anuscript line 335 s tands precise ly as in the text.(339 ) The draft reads Twas notfor long .

(340) I n the draft

To its coo l channel,the o

’

erswollen

The finished manuscr ipt reads cold channel , the first ed ition,old channel .

(343- 4 ) The read ing of the d ra ft is

Upswe l l ing through the s lab ; refre shm ent drowns

I tse lf,lush tumb lmg down on e very s ide

in the finished manus cript , s lap is written for s lab, and there is the cance l led read

mg ,

I tse lf,lush- tumbl ing on every s ide

the words cool fr agr ance are inserted and s truck out aga in ; b ut how they we re tob e used is not c lea r .

(34 8- 50) the draft shows the orig ina l read ing to have been as fo l lows :Old ocean sends a lengthened wave to the shore

,

From whose gre en head the gent le foam a l l hoarRuns

Then we have O’

er whose gr een bach,and next D own whose g r een bach. The

BOOK EN D YM I OI V. I 2 I

D own whose green back the short-liv’d foam , all hoar ,Burs ts gradual , with a wayward indolence .

Increas ing s ti l l in heart , and p leasant sense ,Upon his fa iry journey on he has tes ;So anx ious for the end , he scarce ly was tesOne moment wi th his hand among the sweetsOnward he goes he stops his bosom beatsAs pla inly in his ear , as the fa int charmOf which the throbs were born . This s til l a larm ,

This s leepy mus ic , forc’d him wa lk tiptoe

For i t came more softly than the east could blowArion’

s mag ic to the Atlant ic is les ;Or than the wes t , made jea lous by the sm i lesOf thron

’d Apollo , could breathe back the lyreTo seas Ionian and Tyrian .

finished m anuscript corresponds here p rec ise ly with the printed text ; and there can

b e no doubt the redundant the in l ine 34 8 is an intentiona l undu la t ion. S trictlythere are two undu la t ions in the l ine

,because the fina l syllable of leng thened is to

b e pronounced ,accord ing to Keats

'

s practice .

(353) The m anuscr ipt reads waits in p lace of wastes .

(359 ) I n the manuscr ipt , For it is contracted into For ’

t.

(363) The draft supp l ies the history of the loss o f a rhyme to this l ine ; but Ifear it must rema in rhym e less . The passage was left thus in the draft :

To sea s I onian and Tyrian. D ireWas the love lorn despa ir to which it wroughtEndym ion— for d ire is the bare thoughtThat am ong lovers things of tenderest worthAre swa llow

’

d a ll,and made a blank—a dearth

By one devour ing flam e and far far worse

B less ing to them become a heavy curseH a lf happy t i l l comparisons of blissTo m isery lead them .

’

Twas even so with th1 sBefore th is wa s finished there were the fo l lowing read ings of two of the lines

plac idEndym ion for d ire to qu iet } bosom s is the thought,

H a lf happy wil l they gaze upon the sky ;and when the passage wa s a ltered in copying out the poem for the press, the firstread ing (cance l led ) of l ine 365 wa s

Whom,loving ,

Mus ic s lew not,

whi le,in line 37 1 , comparisons , not comparison ,

was wr itten,and l ine 37 2 was left

thusI s m iserable .

’

T [was] e’en so with this

The om iss ion ofwa s is cur ious . I t seems that,in a lter ing l ine 363 and making l ine

364 rhyme with it Keats over looked the needs of l ine 362 : there is nothing in the

nished manuscnpt to show that he or Taylor had anymisgivings on the subject,

I 22 END YM I ON . [Boon 1 1 .

O did he ever l ive , that lone ly man ,

Who lov’

d— and mus ic s lew not ? ’Tis the pes t

Of love , that fa ires t joys g ive most unres t ;Tha t things of de l ica te and tenderes t worthAre swa llow

’d all , and made a seared dearth ,

By one consum ing flame : it doth immerse

And suffocate true bless ings in a curse .

H a lf-happy , by comparison of bliss ,I s m iserable .

’Twas even so wi th this

D ew-dropp ing me lody , in the Carian’s ear ;Firs t heaven , then hel l , and then forgotten clear ,

Vanish’d in e lementa l pass ion .

And down some swart abysm he had gone ,H ad not a heavenly guide benignant ledTo whe re thick myrt le branches , ’

ga ins t his headBrush ing , awakened : then the sounds aga inWent noise less as a pas s ing noont ide ra inOver a bower , where l ittle space he s tood ;For as the sunse t peeps into a woodSo saw he pant ing l ight , and towards it wentThrough winding a l leys ; and lo , wonderment !

though it is qu ite poss ible there may have been an intention to introduce som e suchline as

To seas I onian and se as of Tyre .

The whole passage as it now stands is so supe rb that both poe t and critic-publishermay b e easi ly pardoned for the ove rs ight . No im ag ina tion so de lica te in rega rd to

mus ic had been vouchsafed to poe t s ince Shakespeare wro te ,in T1 0t N ig ht ,

That stra in aga in ! it had a dying fa l lO , it came o

’

er my ea r l ike the swee t sound,

Tha t brea the s upon a bank of vio le ts,

S tea l ing and g iving odour !

The a ttenuat ion of sound sugge sted by the thought tha t Arion’

s lyre-mus ic waswafted by the e a st wind from the Me d ite rranean to the At lant ic

,and blown back

by Zephyrs ,enviou s of Apol lo ’

s approba t ion ,from the Atlant ic to the sea s about

G reece and Tyre,is so excee d ing a s to b e in som e re spe cts p re fe rable to the love ly

sugge st ion in Twelfth N ight , which br ings a second sense into the idea.

(37 7 ) This l ine orig ina lly began (in the dra ft) with B ut tha t(37 9—85) This passage stood thus in the draft

Brushing awaken’

d him the sounds aga inCam e soft ly as a gentle evening ra in,

Around a bowe r,where he stay

’

d harkeningAnd through whose tufted shrubby darkenm

g1Br ight sta rry g l imm e rs cam e,towards which e went

Thro’wind ing a l leys , and lo ,

wonderm ent !

Upon soft turf he saw,one here one

I n the finished manuscr ipt l ine 380 a t firs t began with Cam e but this was a ltered toW

'

ent,and for the rest the pa ssage s tands as in the te xt . This who le episode

I 24 EN D I’M ] ON"

. [BOOK 1 1 .

Fe ll sleek about him in a thousand foldsNot hiding up an Apollonian curveOf neck and shoulder , nor the tenting swerveOf knee from knee , nor ankles pointing l ight ;But rather , g iving them to the filled s ightOfl

'

iciously. S ideway his face repos’d

On one white arm , and tenderly unclos’d ,

By tenderes t pressure , a fa int damask mouthTo s lumbery pout ; just as the morning southD isparts a dew-lipp

’d rose . Above his head ,

Four l i lly s talks did the ir whi te honours wedTo make a corona l ; and round him grew

All tendri ls green , of every bloom and hue ,Together intertwin’d and trammel

’d fresh

The vine of glossy sprout ; the ivy mesh ,Shading its E thiop berries ; and woodbine ,

Of ve lve t leaves and bugle -blooms div ine ;Convolvulus in streaked vases flush ;The creeper , me llowing for an autumn blush ;And Virgin’s bower , tra i l ing a iri ly ;With others of the s is te rhood . H ard by ,Stood serene Cupids watching s ilently .

(39 9 ) Cance l le d manuscript read ing ,his for a n.

(400) Woodhouse seem s to have been in doubt wha t tenting swerve m ea nt ; for

he no tes that Kea ts told him it m eant in the form of the top of a tent .

f5pm ) I n the manuscript , g ave instead of g iving ,

and in the dra ft g a zer'

s instead0 lied.

(403—4 ) Compare Sonnet XX I I , Livre I I, Amour s de Ronsa rd (a Marie de

Marque ts)Un somme languissant la tenoit mi-penché eD essus le coude dro it fermant sa be l le bouche .

The draft reads his for a .

I n the draft, cor onet for cor ona l , and the next l ine is

All tendri l green ,of p leasant lush and hue .

The draft reads purp ly for g lossy ,and in the next l ine da rhling for E thiop.

I n the draft

W ith a l l its honey bugle tufts d ivine .

Cance l led manuscript read ing , of for in.

I n the draft,

The creepe r, blushing deep a t Autumn’

s blush .

This trip le t was not origina l ly in the poem . The dra ft shews here the

S tood Cup ids ho ld ing o’

e r an upward gazeEa ch a s l im wand t ip t with a s i lve r blazeEach one a s i lve r torch

The poet’

s nice taste doubt less reje cted this on review a s too sugge st ive of gilt gingerbread cup ids such as he may very we l l have seen a t Edmonton fa ir .

BOOK END YM I GIV. I 25

One , knee l ing to a lyre , touch’d the s trings ,Mufl

‘ling to death the pathos with his wings ;

And , ever and anon , uprose to lookAt the youth’s s lumber ; while another tookA wi llow-bough , dist i l ling odorous dew,

And shook i t on his ha ir ; another flewI n through the woven roof, and fluttering

-wiseRa in’d violets upon his s leep ing eyes .

At these enchantments , and yet many more ,The br eathless Latmian wonder’d o

’er and o

’er ;

Until , impatient in embarrassment ,

H e forthright pass’d , and l ightly treading wentTo tha t same feather’d lyr ist , who s tra ightway ,Sm il ing , thus whisper’d : Though from upper dayThou art a wanderer , and thy presence hereM ight seem unholy , be of happy cheer !For

’tis the n ices t touch of human honor ,

When some etherea l and high-favouring donorPresents immorta l bowers to mortal sense ;As

_now

’tis done to thee , Endym ion . H ence

Was I in no wise s tartled . So recl ineUpon these l iving flowers . H ere is wine ,Al ive wi th sparkles never , I aver ,S ince Ariadne was a vintager ,So cool a purple : taste these juicy pears ,Sent me by sad Vertumnus , when his fearsWere high about Pomona : here is cream ,

D eepening to r ichness from a snowy gleam ;Swee ter than that nurse Amalthea skimm

’d

For the boy Jupiter : and here , undimm’d

(424 ) The draft reads A myr t le-bough ,

and in the next l ine but one I nfiom the

br anched r oof:(4 29 ) I n the draft

,Endym ion was described as The mor ta l La tmian.

(436) The nicest touch 0 human honor is a curious and no t ve ry persp icuousphra se ; b ut the fa ct tha t t e orig ina l read ing of the draft was the highest r each ofhuman honor leave s us in no doubt tha t Endym ion wa s g iven to understand he wa s

rece iving the grea te st honour that cou ld b e confe rred on a human be ing.

(44 2) I n the dra ft the l ine began with Sparhling up diamonds .

(443) I t was a pecu l iar ly happy p iece of poe t ic rea lism to trans la te Ariadne '

s

re lat ions with Ba cchus into he r becom ing a vintager ; and I pre sum e this wasKeats

’

s own thought , as we l l as the idea immed iate ly fo l lowing , tha t the God of

Orchards conc i l iated Love with a g ift of pears when paying his addresses to

Pomona .

(44 8) I n the draft ,Even swee t as that which Ama lthea skimm

’

d .

I 26 END YM I ON .

By any touch , a bunch of bloom ing plumsReady to me l t be tween an

. infant’s gums :And here is manna pick

’d from Syrian trees ,

I n s tarl ight , by the three H espe rides .

Feas t on , and m eanwhile I wi l l let thee knowOf all these things around us .

” H e did so ,

S till brooding o’er the cadence of his lyre ;

And thus I need not any hearing tireBy te l l ing how the sea -born goddess pin’dFor a morta l youth , and how she s trove to bindH im all in a ll unto her doting s elf.Who would not be so prison

’d ? but , fond e lf,

H e was content to le t her amorous pleaFa int through his care less arms ; content to see

An unseiz’d heaven dying a t his fee t ;

Content , 0 fool ! to make a cold re treat ,When on the pleasant grass such love , lovelorn ,

Lay sorrowing ; when e very tear was bornOf diverse pass ion ; when her l ips and eyesWere clos

’d in sullen mois ture , and quick s ighsCame vex

’d and pet tish through her nos tri ls smal l .H ush ! no e xcla im ye t , jus t ly m ights t thou ca l lCurses upon his head .

- I was half glad ,But my poor m istress went distra ct and mad ,

When the boar tusk’d him : so away she flew

To Jove’s high throne , and by her pla inings drewImmorta l tear-drops down the thunderer’s beard ;Whereon , i t was decreed he should be rear’d

Each summer t ime to life . Lo ! this is he ,Tha t same Adonis , safe in the privacy(456- 7 ) This coup le t was written thus in the draftKeep ing a ravishin

gcadence with his lyre.

And thus it was “I’

1 not thy knowing(461 - 4 ) I n the dra ft thus

Who wou ld not b e so bound , but, foo l ish e lf,H e was content to let D ivinityS l ip through his care less arm s— content to see

An unse ized heaven sighing at his feet ;

and there are the cance l led read ingsH e was content to unc lasp his

E l

fysium

a ainting heavenFa int gradua l from his a rms .

The finished manuscript corresponds with the printed text .4 7 4 I n the manuscript , tush

’

d : in the first edition tush'd.47 9 I n the manuscript, i

"the for in the.

H e was content to le t {

[Boon 1 1 .

I 28 END YM ] ON . [BOOK n.

Rubbing the ir s leepy eyes wi th lazy wris ts ,And doubling over head the ir l i tt le fis tsI n backward yawns . But a ll were soon a liveFor as de l icious wine doth , sparkling , diveI n nectar

’d clouds and curls through water fa ir,So from the a rbour roof down swell

’d an air

Odorous and enl ivening ; making all

To laugh , and play , and s ing , and loudly ca llFor the ir swee t queen : when 10 the wreathed greenD isparted , and far upward could be seen

Blue heaven , and a s i lver car , air-borne ,

Whose s i lent whee ls , fresh wet from clouds of morn ,

Spun Off a dri zzl ing dew, which fa ll ing chillOn soft Adonis’ shoulders , made him s ti llNes tle and turn uneas ily about .Soon were the white doves pla in , wi th neck stretch

’d

And s ilken traces lighten’d in descent ;

And soon , re turning from love’s banishm ent ,Queen Venus leaning downward Open arm’dH er shadow fe ll upon his breas t , and charm

’d

(509 The draft reads in the air for over head.

(523 I n the d raft thusappear

'

dAnon the doves

were p la in with necks stre tch d out.

(524 ) Woodhouse notes that in the origina l this l ine began with Their insteadof And , and read t z

'

ghterz'

a’

for lig hten'

a’. I presum e both variat ions are from the

draft ; for in the finished manuscript the re is certa inly no trace of Their , whi le the

other word is ce rta in ly wri tten l zlg hten’

a’

,even if

,as is ossib le

,it was intended to

cross the first le tter and make a t of it. I n the l ine b e ore, Kea ts wrote the word

out without cross ing the t ; and he often om itted tha t sma l l duty ; b ut I do no t fee lsafe in a ltering l tght en

'

d to t tg hten’

a' he re ,

see ing tha t the first ed ition reads l zg hten’

d,

and tha t it makes the be tter sense : the traces wou ld b e lighter for the doves indescent , one would say, no t tighter.(525)

The finished manuscript reads nex t instead of soon .

(526 I n l ieu of the passage extend ing from l ine 526 to l ine 534 ,the fo l lowingfifteen line s were orig ina lly written in the draft :

Queen Venus bend ing downward , so o’

ertaken,

So suffe ring swee t,so blushing mad

,so shaken

That the Wl ld warm th prob '

d the young s leepe r's heartEnchanting ly ; and with a sudden start

H is trembling arms we re out in instant t ime

To catch his fa inting love .—0 fool ish rhyme

What m igh ty power is in thee tha t so often

Thou strive st rugged syllables to soften

Even to the te ll ing of a swee t l ike this.

Away ! le t them embrace a lone that kissWas far too r ich for thee to ta lk upon.

Poor wre tch ! m ind not those sobs and s ighs ! begonc !Speak not one atom of thypaltry stuff,

BOOK END YM I ON'

. 1 29

A tumul t to his heart , and a new l ifeInto his eyes . Ah , m iserable s trife ,But for her comforting ! unhappy s ight ,But mee t ing her blue orbs ! Who , who can wri teOf these firs t m inutes ? The unchariest muse

To embracements warm as the irs makes coy e xcuse .

0 it has ruffled every sp iri t there ,

Sav ing Love’s se lf, who s tands superb to shareThe genera l gladness : awfully he s tands ;A sovere ign que l l is in his wav ing hands ;NO s ight can bear the l ightning of his bow ;H is qu iver is mysterious , none can knowWha t themse lves think of i t ; from forth his eyesThere darts s trange l ight of varied hues and diesA scowl is some t imes on his brow, but who

Look ful l upon i t fee l anon the blueOf his fa ir eyes run l iqu id through their souls .

Endym ion fee ls i t , and no more controlsThe burning prayer wi thin him ; so , bent low,

H e had begun a pla ining of his woe

But Venus , bending forward , sa id My child ,Favour this gentle youth ; his days are wildWith love he but a las too wel l I seeThou know’

st the deepness of his m isery .

Ah , sm i le not so , my son : I tell thee true ,Tha t when through heavy hours I us’d to rue

The endless s leep of this new- born Adon’

,

This s tranger aye I pi t ied . For upon

That they a re me t is poetry enough .

0 this has ruffled every sp irit thereThese l ines are struck out of the d raft , where the ir p lace is not supp l ied ; but thefinished copy corresponds with the p rinted text.(535) I n the first ed it ion

,With a sma l l I ; but Love’s in the manuscrip t.

(538 ) I n the fin ished manuscript this l ine stands thusH is b ow no s igh t can bear for l ightning so.

(54 1 ) The draft reads first sundry and then chang e/id in p lace of varied. The

first ed it ion reads dyes b ut in the finished manuscrip t we have dzes instead ofdye:

I am p re tty confident this is right and it is to b e regre tted that Woodhouse did

not record which of ' the two words was in the draft. Keats was not incapable of

app lying the word dye: to l ight but there is redundancy in lig ht of varied hue: anddyes and the notion of strange l ight flashing from Love ’

s eyes and dying is in a far

highe r stra in.

(54 8) The draft reads leaning for hendzng .

(552) I n the draft sweet hoy / ins tead of my son,and inthe next l ine but one mad

hr a z‘

n’

d for new-horn.

I 30 END YM I OZV. [BOOK 1 1.

A dreary morning once I fled awayInto the bree zy clouds , to weep and prayFor this my love : for ve x ing Mars had tea z ’d

Me even to tears : thence , when a l ittle eas’d

,

Down- looking , vacant , through a hazy wood ,I saw this youth as he despa iring s tood :Those same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind ;Those same full fringed lids a cons tant blindOver his sullen eyes : I saw him throwH imself on wither’d leaves , even as thoughD eath had come sudden ; for no jot he mov’d ,Ye t mut ter

’d wi ldly . I could hear he lov’dSome fa ir immorta l , and that his embraceH ad zon’d her through the n ight . There is no tra ceOf this in heaven : I have mark’d each cheek ,And find i t is the va ines t thing to seek ;And that of all things ’

tis kept secre test .Endym ion ! one day thou wi l t be bles tSO s til l obey the guiding hand that fendsThee safe ly through these wonders for sweet ends .

’Tis a concea lment needful in e xtreme ;And if I guess

’d not so , the sunny beam

Thou shoulds t mount up to wi th m e . Now adieu !H ere mus t we leave thee .

” —At these words upflew

The impatient doves , uprose the float ing car,

Up went the hum ce lestial . H igh afarThe Latmian saw them m inish into nought ;And , when a ll were clear vanish’d , s til l he caughtA vivid lightning from tha t dreadful bow.

When all was darkened , with ZEtnean throeThe earth clos’d— gave a sol i tary moan

And left him once aga in in twi l ight lone .

H e did not rave ,he did not s tare aghas t ,

(561 ) The manuscript reads yonyouth .

(567 ) The d raft has ma dly in p lace of wzldly.

(584—5) This coup let stood thus in the draftAnon and ever g leam s from tha t dread bow.

One l igh tning more —then with (E tnoeanI n the manuscript the adjec tive in l ine 585 is written a

'tnean,in the firs t ed ition

Etnaen. I presume Kea ts’

s intention was to make the first E long by us ing a diphthong , and tha t he inadve rtent ly used the wrong one .

(587 ) The draft reads shut for l ef t.(588) I n the dra ft

Nor did he rave,nor did he aghast.

I 32 END YM I ON'

. [BOOK 1 1 .

On th is del ight ; for , every minute’s space ,The s treams wi th changed magi c interlaceSometimes l ike delicatest latt ices ,

Cover’d wi th crysta l vines ; then weeping trees ,

Moving about as in a gentle wind ,Which , in a wink , to watery gauze refin’d ,

Pour’

d into shapes of curtain’d canopies ,

Spangled , and rich with l iquid broideriesOf flowers , peacocks , swans , and na iads fa ir .

Swifter than l ightning went these wonders rare ;And then the wa ter , into s tubborn s treams

Collecting , mimick’d the wrought oaken beams ,

P illars , and frie ze , and high fantast ic roof,Of those dusk places in t imes far a loofCathedra ls call

’

d . H e bade a loth farewe l lTo these founts Protean , pass ing gulph , and de l l ,And torrent , and ten thousand jutt ing shapes ,H a lf seen through deepes t gloom , and gries ly gapes ,B lackening on every s ide , and overheadA vaulted dome like H eaven’

s , far bespreadWith s tarl ight gems : aye , al l so huge and strange ,The sol i tary fe lt a hurried changeWork ing with in him into something dreary ,Vex

’d l ike a morning eagle , lost , and weary ,

And purblind am id foggy , m idnight wolds .

But he revives at once : for who beholdsNew sudden th ings , nor cas ts his menta l s lough ?Forth from a rugged arch , in the dusk be low,

(61 5—1 6) I n the orig ina l d ra ftO

'

e rspread with crysta l vines ; then weep ing peas ,Waving about &c .

(622- 3) The draft g ives this coup let thusAnd then the wa ters ,

into s tubborn s treams

Co l lect ing ,mimick

'

d the wrough t rafts and beams,

and in the next l ine but one reads dim for da sh.

(628) I n p lace of j utting the draft reads succe ss ive ly massy, hla chening ,and

bu lg ing .

(629 ) H id in the dim pr ofound ,a ccord ing to the draft

,which reads over spr ead

in the next l ine but one in p lace offar hespr ead, and in l ine 632 somonstr ous str ang e

for so hug e and str ang e .

(633) The d raft reads diz zy for hur r ied,and in the next l ine but one S car '

d for

Vex'

d .

(636) The words damp and stand cance l led in the finished manuscript be fore

(639 ) The draft reads Fr om out a ar ch ; and in the finished manu

script there is the cance l led reading

BOOK END YM I ON . I 33

Came mother Cybele a lone a loneI n sombre chariot ; dark foldings thrownAbout her majesty , and front death -pale ,

With turrets crown’d . Four maned lions hale

The s luggish wheels ; solemn the ir toothed maws ,The ir surly eyes brow-hidden , heavy pawsUpl ifted drows i ly , and nervy ta ilsCowering the ir tawny brushes . S i lent sa ilsThis shadowy queen a thwart , and fa ints awayI n another gloomy arch .

Wherefore de lay ,Young trave ller , in such a mournful place ?Art thou wayworn , or canst not further traceThe diamond path ? And does i t indeed endAbrupt in m iddle air ? Yet earthward bendThy forehead , and to Jupi ter cloud-borneCal l ardently ! H e was indeed wayworn ;Abrupt , in m iddle air , his way was lost ;To c loud-borne j ove he bowed , and there cros t(642—7 ) I n the orig ina l draft , there were seven l ines in of the of the

text, thusAbout he r m aje sty

,and he r pa le brow

W ith turre ts crown’

d,which forward heavily b ow

We ighing he r chin to the breast. Four l ions drawThe whee ls in s lugg ish t ime each toothed maw

Shut pat ient ly eyes hid in tawny ve i lsD roop ing about the ir paws , and ne rvy ta i lsCowe ring the ir tufted brushes to the dust.

These were crossed out ; and the passage , revised so as to approach the fina l text ,was inserted thus

About her majesty,and front death-pa le

W ith turre ts crown'

d . Four tawny lions ha lec losedpat ient

The ir sur ly eyes ha lf shut , the ir heavy pawsUp l ifted lazi ly , and nervy ta ilsVa i l ing the ir tawny tufts.

I n the finished manuscript the passage was written prec ise ly as in the printed text ,except that s leepily wa s wr itten in l ine 646 and then s truck out in favour of dr owsib'.

(64 9 ) I nto is here s truck ou t in the finished manuscript , and I n substituted .

(657 ) I n the orig ina l draft the supe rna tura l machinery for this transit was entire lyd ifferent, thus

To c loudborne Jove he bent : and there was tostI nto his grasp ing hands a s i lken cord

At which withou t a s ing le impious wordH e swung upon it off into the g loom .

D own, down , uncerta in to wha t p leas ant doom ,

D ropt l ike a fathom ing p lumm e t,down he fe ll

Through unknown things ; t i l l &c .

The s lugg ish whee ls ; so lemn the ir jmaws

I 34 END YM I ON . [BOOK n.

Towards him a large eagle ,

’twi x t whose wings ,Without one impious word , himse lf he flings ,Commi tted to the darkness and the gloomD own , down , uncerta in to what pleasant doom,

Swift as a fathom ing plummet down he fellThrough unknown things ; t ill exhal’d asphode l ,And rose , wi th sp icy fannings interbreath’d ,

Came swe ll ing forth where l itt le caves were wreath’dSo thick wi th leaves and mosses , that they seem’

d

Large honey-combs of green , and freshly teem’d

Wi th a irs de l icious . I n the greenest nookThe eagle landed him , and farewe ll took .

I t was a jasm ine bower , all bes trownWith golden moss . H is every sense had grownE therea l for pleasure ; ’bove his headFlew a del ight half-graspable ; his treadWas H esperean ; to his capable ears

S ilence was mus i c from the holy spheres ;A dewy luxury was in his eyes ;The l i ttle flowers fe l t his pleasant s ighsAnd stirr’d them fa intly . Verdant cave and cel lH e wander

’d through , oft wondering a t such swell

Of sudden e xalta tion : but , AlasSa id he , will all this gush of fee l ing passAway in sol itude ? And mus t they wane,Like melodies upon a sandy pla in ,

(668- 7 1 ) The draft carries out the idea of the s ilken cord as followsWith a irs de l ic ious . Long he hung abou tBe fore his nice enjoyment could p ick outThe resting p lace but a t the last he swungI nto the greenest ce l l of a ll ’

amongD ark leaved jasm ine : star flower'd and bes trownW ith go lden moss.

H esper ean , I presume,not H esperean as invariablyacc ented by M il ton .

The p recise va lue of capable as used here is of course regulated by ‘

pa st and not byp resent custom . I n this case it s imp ly stands for recept ive , able to rece ive , as in

H am let (Act I I I , S cene I V)look you howpa le he glares ,

H is forme and cause conjoyn’

d, preaching to s tones

,

Wou ld make them capeab le .

I n the draft

H e wandered through , with st i l l encreas ingI n the dra ft

Sa id he ,wil l a ll these gushing fee l ings pas s

I 36 END YM ] ON . (BOOK 1 1.

Through a dim passage , searching ti ll he foundThe smoothes t mossy bed and deepest , whereH e threw himse lf, and just into the air

S tre tching his indolent arms , he took , O bliss !A naked wa ist Fa ir Cupid , whence is th is ? ”A we ll-known voice sigh

’d , Swee tes t , here am IAt which soft ravishment , with dot ing cryThey trembled to each other . H e l i con !O fountain

’d hill ! Old H omer

’s H e l icon !

That thou woulds t spout a l i ttle s tream le t o’er

The se sorry pages ; then the verse would soar

And s ing above this gent le pa ir , l ike larkOver his nested young : but al l is darkAround thine aged top , and thy clear fountE xha les in m ists to heaven . Aye , the countOf m ighty Poets is made up ; the scrol lI s folded by the Muses ; the bright rollI s in Apollo’

s hand : our da zed eyesH ave seen a new tinge in the western skiesThe world has done its duty . Yet , oh yet ,Although the sun of poesy is set ,

These lovers did embrace , and we mus t weepThat there is no old power left to s teepA qui l l immortal in the ir joyous tears .

Long time in s i lence did the ir anx ious fearsQuestion that thus i t was ; lon t ime they layFondling and kiss ing every dou t away ;Long t ime ere soft caress ing sobs beganTo me llow into words , and then there ran

Two bubbling springs of ta lk from the ir sweet l ips .

7 09 ) I n the finished manuscript ,fieling s tands cance l led in favour of sear ching .

(7 1 3) The d raft reads Good heavens ! for Fa ir Cupid .

(7 1 5) I n the draft this line stood thus

At wh ich e ach uttering forthan anguish

ora wa i lfu l

The finished m anuscript reads as in the text ; b ut the firs t ed ition has doa ting .

(7 1 9 - 20) The dra ft reads this ver se and the g entle pair ,and in the next line but

one g r een

7 23) I n the d raft , mist , in the singu lar .

27 25—6) The orig ina l read ing of the d raft wasthe great ro l l

dazzledmorta l

T ime has reversed in favour both of Keats and of some of his contemporar ies thisverd ict that the sun of poetry se t with Shakespeare .

(7 35—6) The dra ft reads dr eaming for every and few for soft.

I s in Apo llo’

s hand : our

BOOK END YM I 01V. I 37

0 known Unknown ! from whom my be ing s ips ,Such dar l ing essence , wherefore may I notBe e ver in these arms ? in this swee t spotP i l low my chin for ever ? ever pressThese toying hands and kiss the ir smooth e xcess ?Why not for ever and for ever fee lTha t brea th about my eyes ? Ah , thou wil t s tealAway from me aga in , indeed , indeedThou wi lt be gone away , and wi lt not heedMy lone ly madness . Speak , de l icious fa ir !I s is i t to be so ? No ! Who wi l l dareTo pluck thee from me ? And , of thine own wi ll ,Full we l l I fee l thou woulds t not leave me . S t il lLet me entwine thee surer , surer now

H ow can we part ? E lys ium ! who art thou ?Who , tha t thou cans t not be for ever here ,

Or l ift me with thee to some s tarry sphere ?Enchantress te ll m e by th is soft embrace ,By the mos t soft comple t ion of thy face ,

Those l ips , O s l ippery blisses , twinkling eyes ,And by these tenderes t , m ilky sovere igntiesThese tenderest , and by the nectar-wine ,The pass ion O dov

’d I da the divine !

(7 39 ) Compare , for m ere juxtapos it ion ofwords , Romeo and_

‘

7 a liet, Act I , SceneV,l ine 1 4 1

Too ear ly seen unknown,and known too late !

(7 43) The draft re ad s lang uid for toying .

(7 4 7 - 8 ) Woodhouse notes,apparent ly from the draft

,the variat ion

,

And the re must b e a t ime when thou l ’t not heedma idfa ir

The finished manuscript and the first ed it ion both read my hindestfair / But the

ve rs ion of the text is from the corrected copy.(7 49 ) I n the draft , Wh a t wil l dar e , and in the next l ine but one I hnow [ f ee] .

(7 56- 7 ) The draft g ives this coup let thusEnchantress te l l m e by this mad embraceBy the m o ist languor of thy breathing face

(7 60- 1 ) The dra ft has th is coup let a s fo l lowsThese tenderest and by the brea th - the love

My lone ly madness 0 de l ic ious

The pass ion—nectar H eaven ! j ove above !The second of these l ines origina l ly stood in the finished manuscript thus

The Pass ion O I da the d ivine !as ifpassion were meant to scan as a trisyllable , as in many othe r cases of s im i larwords in E ndymion ,

- amhr osia l for ins tance in l ine 8 1 0 ; E ndymion in l ine s 823and 855 of th is book ; and intoxica tion in l ine 502 of Book I ; but Keats has insetted before I da the word dov’

d,not lov

’

d as in the first edition.

I 38 END YM I ON . [BOOK 1 1 .

Endym ion ! deares t ! Ah , unhappy me !H is soul wil l ’scape us O fe l icity !H ow he does love me ! H is poor temples beatTo the

' very tune of love how sweet , swee t , swee t .Revive , dear youth , or I sha ll fa int and die ;Revive , or these soft hours wi l l hurry byI n tranced dulness ; speak , and let tha t spe llAfl

'

right this le tha rgy ! I cannot que llI ts heavy pressure , and wi ll press at leas tMy l ips to thine , tha t they may richly feas tUnt i l we taste the l ife of love aga in .

What ! dost thou move ? dos t kiss ? 0 bliss ! O pain !I love thee , youth , more than I can conce ive ;And so long absence from thee doth bereaveMy soul of any rest : ye t mus t I henceYe t , can I not to s tarry em inenceUpl ift thee ; nor for very shame can own

Myse lf to thee : Ah , deares t , do not groan

Or thou wi l t force m e from this secrecy ,And I mus t blush in heaven . 0 that IH ad done ’

t a lready ; tha t the dreadfu l sm ilesAt my los t brightness , my impassion’d wi les ,H ad waned from Olympus’ solemn he ight ,And from al l serious Gods ; tha t our de l ightWas qui te forgotten , save of us a loneAnd wherefore so asham

’d ? ’Tis but to atone

For endless pleasure , by some coward blushesYet must I be a coward !— H orror rushesToo palpable before me— the sad lookOf Jove M inerva’s start no bosom shookWith awe of pur ity no Cupid pinion

(7 7 0) The dra ft readsyet for and ,and in the next l ine ’

g ainst for to.

7 7 4) Cance l led read ing from the d raft,Listen tome if Love wil l let

(7 82) The contra ct ion done’

t he re is a fina l and de libe ra te intent ion : for a lthough done it wa s printed in the first ed ition —perhaps through Kea ts havingpuzzled the pr inte r by writing in the manuscript do n

’

t—the printed words are

a lte red to done’

t in the corrected copy .(7 83) The re is a cance l led read ing in the draft , At my dear weahness

(7 85) The draft reads P ower s for God s and my for our , and in the next l ine butone B ut for And.

(7 89 ) I n p lace of H or r or the draft reads first The thing ,then The idea . I n the

finished manuscript the origina l read ing was the hor r or ; but the is s truck out. I nthe first ed it ion the word was p rinted H onour

,which word Keats habitua l ly spe lt

without the u, so that in his writing hor r or and honor a re a lmost if not qu ite iden

t ica l . The correct ion is m ade in the copy in my posse ss ion ; but it is no t mad e inWoodhouse '

s copy though it appears in the longe r list of erra ta found in somecop ies. Woodhouse '

s has only the s ingle-e rratum page.

40 END I ’M ] 01V. [BOOK 1 1.

Of our close voices marry at the ir birth ;Le t us entwine hoveringly O dearthOf human words ! roughness of mortal speech !Lispings empyrean wi l l I some time teachThine honied tongue lute -brea things , which I gaspTo have thee understand , now while I claspThee thus , and weep for fondness— I am pa in’d

,

Endym ion : woe ! woe ! is grief contain’d

I n the very deeps of pleasure , my sole l ife ?H e reat , with many sobs , her gentle s trifeMe lted into a languor . H e re turn

’d

Entranced vows and tears .

Ye who have yearn’dWith too much pass ion , wi ll here s tay and p i ty ,For the m ere sake of truth ; as

’tis a dit ty

Not of these days , but long ago’twas told

By a cavern wind unto a forest old ;And then the fores t told i t in a dreamTo a s leeping lake , whose cool and leve l gleamA poet caught as he was journeyingTo Phoebus’ shrine ; and in i t he did fl ingH is weary limbs , bathing an hour’s space ,

And afte r , stra ight in that inspired placeH e sang the s tory up into the air ,G iv ing i t universa l freedom . ThereH as it been ever sounding for those ears

Whose tips are glowing hot . The legend cheersYon cent ine l s tars ; and he who l is tens to i tMus t sure ly be s e lf-doom’d or he wi l l rue i tFor quenchless burnings come upon the heart ,Made fiercer by a fear les t any part

No answer,saving tea rs .

— Ye who have b urn’

d

W i th ove r pa ss ion ,he re e xc la im and p ity

Even for the sake of truthI t is perhaps worth wh ile to note the correspondence of thought be tween the u tte r

ance he re g iven to D iana on the subjec t O f the grief contain’

d in the ve ry deeps of

p leasure ,

”and tha t wonderfu l l ine of Keats

'

s in the H omer sonnet of 1 8 1 8 ,

There is a budd ing morrow in m idnight ,a l ine which I have hea rd competent c ritics p ronounce not on ly the fine st l ine inKea ts

’

s poetry, b ut one of the fines t l ine s in a l l poe try.

(831 ) Cance l led read ing of the manuscript , Cavern '

s M onth for caver n wind.

833) The d ra ft re ads slumhering for s leeping .

(84 1 ) Compa re M i lton'

s Lycidas

But not the pra ise ,

Phoebus rep l ied ,and touch

'

d my trembling ea rs

BOOK END YM I ON . I 4 1

Should be engulphed in the eddying wind .

As much as here is penn’d doth a lways find

A res ting place , thus much comes clear and pla in ;Anon the strange voi ce is upon the wane

And’tis but echo

’d from depar ting sound ,

That the fa ir vis i tant at las t unwoundH er gentle l imbs , and left the youth asleep .

Thus the tradition of the gusty deep .

Now turn we to our former chroniclers .

Endym ion awoke , that grief of hers

(849—50) The draft reads

But after the strange voice is on the waneAnd

’

t is b ut guess’

d from the depart ing sound ,

and in the next l ine but one prison'

d for g entle . The two l ines a s written in the

draft m ake it more absolute ly c lear than the two l ines as p r inted tha t the depa rtureof D iana is d ivined from the fa intly sound ing c lose of the story to which the poe tgave voice . The birth of this ta le out-doe s in imag ina tive de l ica cy the a ccount of

the s leepy mus ic ”in this Book (l ines 358 to 363) , though tha t exceeds this in

compac tness . Keats probably fe lt tha t the re was qui te enough about the poet 'svo ice

,for unless I am much de ce ived he rejected a most love ly and e labora te se rie s

of comparisons for tha t voice,

only inferior,if indeed they a re inferior

,to the

trad ition of the gusty deep which they would have fo l lowed immed iate ly thus :Oh ! wha t a voice is s ilent . I t was soft

As mounta in-e choe s , when the winds a loftThe gent le winds of summ er) m eet in caves ;r when in she ltered p lace s the white waves

Are’

waken’

d into mus ic,a s the breeze

D imp les and stem s the current : or a s tree s

Shaking the ir green locks in the days of JuneOr D e lphic gir ls when to the m a iden m oon

They sang harmoniousfpray

’rs : or sounds that come

H owever nea r) l ike a a int d is tant humut of the grass , from which myster ious birthWe guess the busy secre ts of the earth .

Like the low vo ice of Syrinx , when she ran

I nto the forests from Arcad ian PanOr sad CEnone

’

s,when she p ined away

For Pa r is , or (and yet ’twas not so gay)

As H e len'

s whisper when she came to Troy,

H a lf sham ’

d to wander with tha t bloom ing b oy.

L ike air-touch’

d harps in flowery easements hung ;Like unto lovers’ ears the wi ld words sungI n garden bowe rs at twi light : l ike the soundOf Zephyr when he take s his nightly roundI n May, to se e the roses a ll as leepOr l ike the dim stra in which a long the deepThe sea-ma id u tters to the sa i lors '

ear,

Te l ling of tempests , or of dan ers nea r.

Like D esdemona ,who (when ea r was strong

Upon her sou l) chaunted the wi l low song ,

1 42 END YM I OI V. [BOOK 1 1 .

Swee t pa ining on his ear : he s ickly guess’dH ow lone he was once more , and sadly press’dH is empty arms together , hung his head ,And mos t forlorn upon tha t widow’d bed

Sat s ilently . Love’s madness he had knownOften wi th more than tortured lion’

s groan

Moanings had burs t from him ; but now that rageH ad pass

’d away : no longer did he wage

A rough-voic’d war aga inst the doom ing s tars .

No , he had fe l t too much for such harsh jarsThe lyre of his soul I Eolian tun’dForgot a ll violence , and but commun’d

Wi th melancholy thought : 0 he had swoon’d

D runken from pleasure ’

s nipple ; and his loveH enceforth was dove- l ike . Loth was he to moveFrom the imprinted couch , and when he did ,’Twas wi th s low, languid paces , and face hidI n muffling hands . So temper

’

d , out he stray’d

Swan-l ike before she pe rish’

d : or the tone

Of flutes upon the wa te rs heard a loneLike words tha t come upon the memor

Spoken by friends depa rted ; or the sigA gentle g ir l brea the s when she tries to hideThe love her eyes be tray to a ll bes ide.

The se l ines appe ared in The I ndica tor for the l gth of j anuary 1 820 . I t wou ld b erea lly interes ting to know whe the r She l ley had seen the compar ison of this divinevo ice to “ the tone of flutes upon the wa te rs

,

”

when he wrote the much deba tedpassage in Pr ometheus Unbound (Act I I , S cene 1 1 , l ine 38) about the Nightinga les '

Singing ,

Like many a lake -surrounded flute ,which may or may not have been among the correct ions and add itions sent to

Mr. and Mrs . G isborne as la te as the end of May 1 820.

Cance l led read in of the manuscript , in for on .

The d raft reads at tently sa t for S a t silently .

I n the draft , this l ine began wi th the word Pa ssion ; and Comp laints andning s were in turn struck out of the finished manuscript before the word of the

text , M oaning s , was arrived a t.

(865) The draft g ives the l ineNo

,he if? too d ivine for such harsh jars.

(866) I n the first ed ition E olian. Kea ts meant to use the d iphthong ; but in themanuscript he put the wrong one

,

(868) The draft reads With thoug hts of tender est bir th.

(87 0- 1 ) I n the dra ft, thus 0

S carce ly could he moveFrom the dear couch .

(87 3) The draft reads I n mufl ing arms,and in the next l ine S car ce seeing

wonder s.

1 44 END YM I OI V'

. [BOOK 1 1 .

H igh wi th ex cess ive love . And now,

” thoughtH ow long mus t I rema in in jeopardy

Of blank amazements that amaze no more ?

Now I have tasted her swee t soul to the core

All other depths are sha llow : essences ,

Once sp iritua l , are l ike muddy lees ,Meant but to fert i l i ze my earthly root ,And make my branches l ift a golden frui tInto the bloom of heaven : other light ,Though i t be quick and sharp enough to blightThe O lympian eagle’s vis ion , is dark ,D ark as the parentage Of chaos . H arkMy s i lent thoughts are echo ing from these she lls ;Or they are but the ghos ts , the dying swellsOf noises far away ? l ist H ereupon

H e kept an anx ious ear . The humm ing toneCame louder , and behold , there as he lay,

On e ither s ide outgush’d , with m is ty spray ,

A copious spring ; and both toge ther dash’d

Swift , mad , fantas tic round the rocks , and lash’dAmong the conchs and she lls of the lofty grot ,Leaving a trickling dew. At las t they shotD own from the ce il ing’s he ight . pouring a noiseAs of some breathless racers whose hopes poiz eUpon the las t few s teps , and with spent forceAlong the ground they took a winding course .

Endym ion follow’d for i t seem’d that oneEver pursu’d , the other strove to shunFollow’

d the ir languid mazes , till well nighH e had left think ing of the mystery ,And was now rapt in tender hoveringsOver the vanish

’d bliss . Ah wha t is i t s ings

H is dream away ? Wha t me lodies are these ?They sound as through the whispering of trees ,Not native in such barren vaults . G ive ear !

0 Arethusa , peerless nymph why fear

(907 ) The dra ft reads first M ade and then S ent for M eant,and in the next line

their r ipen’

dfiuit.

(9 1 4 ) This l ine was wr itten in the draftOr they are subt le st and dying swe l ls

9 1 7 ) The word stil l is s truck out of the finished manuscr ipt afte r louder .

(9 20) This l ine ends with splash’

d in the draft .

(9 32) I n the draft , this l ine began with O’

er past andfutur e. The finished mannascript reads is

’

t for is it.

BOOK END YM I OIV. 1 4 5

Such tenderness as m ine ? Grea t D ian , why,Why dids t thou hear her prayer ? O that IWere rippl ing round her da inty fa irness now,

Circling about her wa is t , and striving howTo entice her to a dive then steal ing inBetween her luscious l ips and eye l ids thin .

0 that her shining ha ir was in the sun ,

And I distill ing from i t thence to run

I n amorous ril lets down her shrinking form !To l inger on her l il ly shoulders , warmBetween her kiss ing breas ts , and every charmTouch raptur

’d See how painfully I flow :

Fa ir ma id , be pi tiful to my great woe .

S tay , stay thy weary course , and let me lead ,A happy wooer , to the flowery meadWhere al l tha t beauty snar’d me .

”Cruel god,

D es is t ! or my offended m istress’ nodWill s tagna te al l thy founta ins — te'

aze me not

With syren words —Ah , have "I rea lly gotSuch power to madden thee ? And is i t trueAway , away , or I sha ll dearly rueMy very thoughts : in mercy then away ,Kindes t Alpheus , for should I obeyMy own dear will , ’twould be a deadly bane .

O , Oread-Queen ! would that thou hadst a pa inLike this of m ine , then would I fearless turnAnd be a crim ina l . Alas , I burn ,

I shudder gentle river , get thee hence .

Alpheus ! thou enchanter ! every sense

(945) The draft readsAmorous and s low adown her shr inking form !

(9 47—9 ) These three l ines stood thus in the draftAbout her 1

1333311

5;g breasts , and every charmKiss

,rap tur

’

d ,even to her m i lky toes .

O foo l ish m a id b e gent le to mywoes.

9 52) The draft reads s lew for sh ar’

d.

(9 54 ) Cance l led read ing of the m anuscr ipt , water s forfl untains.

(960) I n the firs t ed it ion Arethusa’

s speech is c los ed a t the end of this l ine, and

taken up aga in a t Alas, I bur n ,

in l ine 363,the inte rm ed ia te portion be ing separa ted

from it by independent m a rks of quota t ion , as if spoken by Alpheus ; bu t in themanuscr ipt the one speech extends from Cr ue l God (9 52) to cr ue l thingand this ObviOUS’ con e“ a rrangement is restored in the copy revised by Keats .

(9 64 ) The dr reads

I shudder for swee t mercy ge t thee hence .

1 46 END YM I GIV. [BOOK 1 1 .

Of m ine was once made perfect in these woods .

Fresh bree zes , bowery lawns , and innocent floods:Ripe frui ts , and lone ly couch , contentment gave ;But ever s ince I heedless ly did laveI n thy dece itful s tream , a panting glowG rew s trong within me : wherefore serve me so,

And ca l l i t love ? Alas , ’twas cruelty .

Not once more did I close my happy eyeAm id the thrushes’ song . Away ! Avaunt !O ’twas a crue l thing .

” Now thou dost tauntSo softly , Arethusa , tha t I thinkI f thou was t playing on my shady brink ,Thou woulds t bathe once again. Innocent ma id !S tifle thine heart no more ; nor be afraidOf angry powers : there are de i tiesWill shade us wi th the ir wings . Those fitful sighs’Tis almost death to hear : O let me pour

A dewy balm upon them fear no more ,

Swee t Are thusa ! D ian’s se lf mus t fee l

Some time these very pangs . D ea r ma iden, s tealB lushing into my soul , and let us flyThese dreary caverns for the open sky.

I wi ll del ight thee al l my winding course ,

From the green sea Up to my hidden sourse

About Arcadian forests ; and wi ll showThe channe ls where my coo les t waters flowThrough mossy rocks ; where , ’mid e xuberant green,

I roam in pleasant darkness , more unseen

(9166—9

'

dThe draft reads happy forperfect, shady for bowery ,

lea/yfor lonely, and

g an or i

(9 7 3) This l ine ends with eyes both in the finished manus cript and in the firsted ition ; b ut it is certain tha t a e was the express ion in the poe t

'

s m ind,for in the

draft the line stood thusNo longer cou ld I close my

wearied} e e .

s leep le ss(9 7 4) I n the finished manuscript, not thr ush’

s but Thr ushes, without any a os

trOphe . As Woodhouse records that the draft read thr ushes’

, it seems s e to

adopt that form .

(9 7 7 )

I n the dra ft by in p lace of on .

9 85 I n the m anuscript , Some time , without the fina l s as in the first ed it ion. Ithink the insert ion of the s must have been over looked by Keats .

(9 90) The draft reads

About Arcad ia’

s Pla ins ; and I wi l l showand the finished manuscript ,

About Arcad ian Forests ; and I wi l l shew.

Probably Keats meant to cance l I and it does not appear in his printed edition.

E N D Y M I O N .

BOOK I I I .

H ERE are who lord i t o’er the ir fe l low-men

With mos t preva i l ing t insel : who unpen

The ir baa ing vanit ies , to browse awayThe comfortable green and juicy hayFrom human pas tures ; or , O torturing factWho , through an idiot blink , wi l l see unpack

’d

Fire-branded foxes to sear up and s ingeOur gold and r ipe -ear

’d hopes . With not one t ingeOf sanctuary splendour , not a s ightAble to face an owl’s , they s til l are dightBy the blear-eyed na t ions in empurpled ves ts ,And crowns , and turbans . Wi th unladen breas ts ,Save of blown self-applause , they proudly mountTo the ir spiri t’s perch , the ir be ing’

s high account ,Their tiptop nothings , the ir dull skies , the ir thronesAm id the fierce intox icating tonesOf trumpets , shoutings , and belabour’d drums ,And sudden cannon . Ah how a ll this hums ,I n wakeful cars , l ike uproar pas t and goneLike thunder clouds tha t spake to Babylon,

And set those old Cha ldeans to the ir tasks .

Are then regal i t ies a ll g ilded masks ?N0, there are throned seats unsca lableBut by a pat ient wing , a constant spe ll ,( 1 ) Woodhouse notes tha t Kea ts sa id

,with much s imp l icity , I t wi l l b e eas i ly

seen what I think of the present m inisters , by the beginning of the th ird Book. ’Perhaps the Quarte rly Reviewe r had heard of that s imp le saying .

E5) The draft reads 0 devilishfact .

I and in the next line with for thr ough.

1 9 ) The draft has a lmost in p la ce ofpa st and.

(2 1 - 3) The fo l lowing rejec ted read ing is from the draft

And se t those o ld Cha ldeans to the ir work.

Are then a l l rega l th ings so gone ,so murk?

No there are other thrones to mount.

BOOK EN D YM I ON 1 4 9

Or by e thereal th ings that , unconfin’d ,

Can make a ladder of the e terna l wind,

Afid poise about in cloudy thunder- tentsTo watch the abysm -birth of e lements .

Aye ,

’bove the wi thering of old- lipp’d Fate

A thousand Powers keep re l igious s ta te ,I n water , fiery rea lm , and a iry bourne ;And , s ilent as a consecrated urn ,

H old spherey sess ions for a season due .

Yet few of these far majest ies , ah , few !

H ave bar’d the ir opera tions to this globeFew, who with gorgeous pageantry enrobeOur p iece of heaven whose benevolenceShakes hand wi th our own Ceres ; every senseFilling with spiri tua l swee ts to pleni tude ,As bees gorge full the ir ce lls . And , by the feud’Twi x t Nothing and Creation , I here swear ,E terne Apollo ! tha t thy S is ter fa irI s of a ll these the gentlier-m ightiest .When thy gold breath is m ist ing in the wes t ,She unobserved s teals unto her throne ,And there she si ts mos t m eek and mos t a lone ;As if she had not pomp subservient ;As if thine eye , high Poet ! was not bentTowards her wi th the Muses in thine heart ;As if the ministring stars kept not apart ,(31—2) The draft yie lds the rejected coup let

I n the severa l vastnesses of air and fire ;And s i lent, a s a corpse upon a pyre .

(34 ) The draft reads

H ow few of these far majes ties , how few !(38- 9 ) These two lines stood thus in the draft

and eachevery

W ith sp iritua l honey fi l ls to(4 1 ) At the end of this l ine Keats wrote in the orig ina l draft, as if to loca lize the

oath he wa s record ing , Oxford , S eptr.

(42) The word eter ne seem s to b e another rem iniscence of Spense r : see Faerie

Queene , Book I I I , Canto vi , S tanza 47 :Ye t is e terne in mutabilitl e


When thy gold ha ir fa l ls thick about the wes t .(4 9 ) The draft ha s Upon in p lace of Towa r ds.

(50) This attribution of an active l ife of m inistration to the stars is a recurrence

of the idea in Book I I,l ines 1 84

-

5

Sa lutes our native Ceres sense

by a ll the stars

That tend thy bidd ing

50 END YM I OZV. [BOOK 1 1 1 .

Wa it ing for si lver-footed messages .

0 Moon ! the oldes t shades ’mong oldest trees

Feel palp itations when thou lookes t in0 Moon ! old boughs l isp forth a hol ier dinThe while they fee l th ine a iry fe llowship .

Thou dos t bless every where , with s i lver lipKiss ing dead things to l ife . The s leeping k ine ,Couch

’d in thy brightness , dream of fie lds divineInnumerable mounta ins rise , and rise ,

Ambi t ious for the hallowing of thine eyes ;And yet thy benedict ion passe th not

One obscure hiding-

place , one l ittle spotWhere pleasure may be sent : the nes ted wrenH as thy fa ir face wi thin its tranqui l ken ,

And from beneath a she l tering ivy leafTakes gl impses of thee ; thou art a rel iefTo the poor patient oys ter , where i t s leepsWithin its pearly house .

— The m ighty deeps ,The monstrous sea is thine the myriad sea !0 Moon far-spoom ing Ocean bows to thee ,

And Te llus fee ls his forehead’s cumbrous load .

52) I n the draft ,

Wa it ing the oldes t shadows "’n o ld trees .

(56—7 ) The draft rea dsThou dost bless a ll things— even dead things sipA m idnight l ife from thee .

(63) I n the draft , wr oug ht for sent ; and in the next l ine the re is the cance l ledread ing , Quiet behind dar h ivy leaves


The monstrous sea is thine—the monstrous sea !

(7 0) I n the draft old occurs in p lace of fa r . The word spooming for spuming ,

though not ord ina ri ly found in d ictionar ie s , was qu ite in Keats'

s line of read ing .

Thus Beaumont and Fle tcher in The D ouble M a r riag e (Ac t I I , S cene 1 ) haveD own with the fore sail too , we

’l l spoom before her.D ryden, in The H ind and the Panther

,has

When virtue Spooms before a prospe rous ga leMy heaving wishes he lp to fil l the sa i l.

And Brooke ,in Constantia

,has

The w ind fre sh blowing from the Syrian shoreSwift through the floods he r Spooming ves se l bore .

(7 1 ) I n the manuscr ipt and in the corrected copy , his ; b ut her was printed inthe firs t ed ition, and corrected a s an er r a tum ,

- the only one in some cop ies . The

m istake arose through a penc i l led marg ina l suggestion made in the printer’s copy,not in Keats

‘

s writing .

1 52 END YM I GIV. (BOOK 1 1 1

And now, 0 winged Chieftain thou hast sentA moon-beam to the deep , deep water-world ,To find Endym ion .

On gold sand impearl’dWith li lly shells , and pebbles m i lky white ,

Poor Cynthia greeted him , and sooth’d her l ight

Aga ins t his pal l id face : he fe lt the charmTo breathlessness , and suddenly a warmOf his heart’s blood : ’twas very swee t ; he stay

’d

H is wandering s teps , and half- entranced la idH is head upon a tuft of straggling weeds ,To tas te the gent le moon , and freshening beads ,Lash

’

d from the crys ta l roof by fishes’ ta i ls .

And so he kept , until the rosy ve i lsMantl ing the east , by Aurora’s peering handWere l ifted from the water’s breas t , and fann’dInto swee t air ; and sober

’d morning came

Meekly through billows — when l ike taper-flameLeft sudden by a dal lying breath of air ,H e rose in s i lence , and once more

’

gan fare

Along his fated way.

Far had he roam’d ,

With noth ing save the hollow vas t , that foam’d,Above , around , and at his feet ; save thingsMore dead than Morpheus’ imaginingsOld rus ted anchors , he lmets , breas t -plates largeOf gone sea-warriors ; bra zen beaks and targe ;Rudders that for a hundred years had los tThe sway of human hand ; gold vase emboss’d

With long- forgotten story , and where inNo reve ller had ever dipp’d a chinBut those of Saturn

’s vintage ; mouldering scrolls ,

Wr i t in the tongue of heaven , by those soulsWho firs t were on the earth and sculptures rudeI n ponderous stone , developing the moodOf ancient Nox then ske letons of man ,

Of beas t , behemoth , and levia than ,

And e lephant , and eagle , and huge jawOf name less monster . A cold leaden awe

These secre ts s truck into him ; and unlessD ian had chac

’d away that heaviness ,( 1 28) I n the draft , r evel ler s for r eve l ler .


H e m ight have di’d : but now, wi th cheered feel ,H e onward kept ; wooing these thoughts to stea lAbout the labyrinth in his soul of love .

What is there in thee , Moon ! that thou shoulds t moveMy heart so potently ? When yet a childI oft have dry’d my tears when thou hast smil’d .

Thou seem’dst my s ister : hand in hand we went

From eve to mom across the firmament .

No apples would I gather from the tree ,

T i l l thou hads t cool’d the ir cheeks de l iciouslyNo tumbling water ever spake romance ,

But when my eyes wi th thine thereon could danceNo woods were green enough , no bower divine ,Until thou liftedst up thine eye l ids fine :I n sowing time ne

’er would I dibble take ,

Or drop a seed , till thou wast wide awake ;And , in the summer tide of blossom ing ,

No one but thee hath heard me b lythly s ingAnd m esh my dewy flowers all the night .No melody was l ike a pass ing sprightI f it went not to solemni ze thy re ign .

Yes , in my boyhood , every joy and pa inBy thee were fashion’d to the se lf- same end ;And as I grew in years , still dids t thou blendWith a ll my ardours : thou wast the deep glen ;Thou was t the mounta in- top the sage

’s pen

The poe t’s harp the voice of friends the sun

Thou was t the r iver thou was t glory won ;Thou wast my clarion’s blast— thou wast my s teedMy goblet full of wine my topmost deedThou was t the charm of women , lovely Moon

0 what a wi ld and harmoni zed tune

(1 40) Cance l led read ing of the m anuscr ipt, went for hept .1 50) The draft reads sou l in p lace of eyes .

( 1 56) This l ine a ffords a curious instance of waywardness in the matter of spe l ling : the last word b ut one is blithly in the firs t ed it ion ,

blythly in the finished manu

script , and ,fide Woodhouse

,blithe ly in the draft. I n Book I , l ine 939 ,

the cogna te

adjective is spe lt with a y ,both in m anuscript and in first ed ition ; so that it is to b e

presum ed that Keats rea l ly preferred this orthography, which is tha t adopted inPier s P lowman .

( 1 59 ) The draft ie lds the a lternat ive read ingsfl ew and soug ht in p la ce of went .

1 68) I ns tead ofytopmost the draft has hig hest .

( 1 7 0) I n the draft,ha rmoniz ing ,

and in the next l ine the alternative read ingssung and made for str uch.

1 54 END YM I ON . [ BOOK 1 1 1 .

My spirit struck from all the beautifulOn some bright essence could I lean , and lullMyse lf to immorta l ity : I pres tNa ture’s soft pi l low in a wakeful res t .But , gent le Orb ! there came a nearer blissMy strange iove '

carne Fe licity’s abyss !She came , and thou dids t fade , and fade awayYe t not entire ly ; no , thy s tarry swayH as been an under-pass ion to this hour .

Now I beg in to ,fee l thine orby power

I s com ing fresh upon m e : 0 be kind,Keep back thine influence , and do not blind

My sovere ign vis ion . D earest love , forgiveThat I can think away from thee and l ivePardon me , a iry plane t , that I prizeOne thought beyond thine argent luxuriesH ow far beyond At th is a surpris

’d s tart

Fros ted the spring ing verdure of his heart ;For as he l ifted up his eyes to swear

H ow his own goddess was pas t a ll things fair ,H e saw far in the concave green of the sea

An Old man s itting ca lm and peacefully .

Upon a weeded rock th is old man sat ,

And his white ha ir was awful , and a mat

Of weeds were cold benea th his cold thin feet ;And , ample as the largest winding-shee t ,A c loak of blue wrapp’

d up his aged bones ,O

’erwrought wi th symbols by the deepes t groans

Of ambi t ious magic : every ocean-form

Was woven in with black dis tinctness ; s tormAnd ca lm ,

and whispering , and h ideous roar ,( 1 7 6) The draft reads dea r p lea sur e

’

s own abyss for Felicity’

s abys s.

( 1 80) The d raft reads or bed for or by.

( 1 83) I n the draft,instead ofMy sover eig n vision

,we read The vision of my

Love .

( 1 88) I n the draft thusBl ighted theS temm

'

d qu ick the(20 1 ) This line s tands rhyme le ss in the fin ished manuscript , as in the printed

text of the first ed ition ; but in the orig ina l draft occurs the fe l low l ine now re s tored

to the text . I ts om ission was c lea rly an e rror o f transcr ip tion,which poet , publishe r ,

and pr inter a like fa i led to d iscove r. The case is s im i lar to tha t of the long- lostrhyme in She l ley’s yu lian and M adda lo

,only re stored in 1 87 7 , when the poet

’

s

beautiful l itt le manuscrip t cam e into my hands. The fol lowing is the passageFie rce ye l ls and howl ings and lam ent ings keen ,

And laughter whe re comp laint had me rr ie r been,

flowing r iver of his heart .

1 56 END YM I ON . [BOOK 1 1 1 .

And in a voice of solemn joy, that aw’d

Echo into oblivion , he sa idThou art the man Now shal l I lay my head

I n peace upon my watery pi l low : now

S leep wi ll come smoothly to my weary brow.

O j ove I sha ll be young aga in , be young !0 shell-borne N eptune , I am pierc

’d and s tungWith new-born life What sha ll I do ? Where go,When I have cas t this serpent - skin of woe ?

I’ll swim to the syrens , and one moment l istenThe ir me lodies , and see the ir long ha ir g l isten ;Anon upon that g iant’s arm I

’ll be ,

That wri thes about the roots of S ic i lyTo northern s eas I’l l in a twinkling sail ,And mount upon the snortings of a whaleTo some black cloud ; thence down I ’ll madly sweepOn forked l ightning , to the deepest deep ,

Where through some sucking pool I wi l l be hurl’dWith rapture to the other s ide of the worldO , I am full of gladness ! S is ters three ,I bow ful l hearted to your old decree !Yes , every god be thank’d ,

and power benign ,

For I no more shal l wither , droop ,and p ine .

Thou art the man ! ” Endym ion started backD ismay’d ; and , l ike a wre tch from whom the ra ckTortures hot breath , and speech of agony ,Mutter

’d : Wha t lone ly death am I to die

I n th is cold region ? Will he let me freeze ,And float my bri ttle l imbs o

’er polar seas ?

Or wi ll he touch me wi th his searing hand ,And leave a black memorial on the sand ?Or tear me p iece -meal wi th a bony saw,

And keep me as a chosen food to drawH is magian fish through hated fire and flame ?O m isery of hel l ! res is tless , tame ,

Am I to be burnt up ? No , I wi ll shout ,Unt i l the gods through heaven’

s blue look outO Tartarus ! but some few days agone

(240) Cance lled manuscript read ing ,

N ow for When .

244 ) I t is no t c lear whether the reference is to Briareus or to Ence ladus,s ince

both were supposed to have be en imprisoned unde r M ount E tna.

(266) I n the draft , 0h he l l for of he l l .(269 ) Cance l led reading of the manuscript, hour s for days , and in the next line

but one , lips for voice.

BOOK END YM I DI V. 1 57

H er soft arms were entwining me , and on

H er voice I hung l ike frui t among green leavesH er l ips were all my own , and— ah , ripe sheavesOf happiness ye on the stubble droop ,

But never may be garner’d . I must stoopMy head , and kiss death’s foot . Love love , farewell 'I s there no hope from thee ? This horr id spe llWould me lt at thy swee t breath . By D ian’

s hindFeeding from her whi te fingers , on the windI see thy stream ing ha ir ! and now, by Pan,I care not for this old mys terious man ! ”

H e spake , and wa lking to that aged form ,

Look’d high defiance . Lo his heart ’gan warmWith p ity, for the grey-ba ir’d crea ture wept .

H ad he then wrong’d a heart where sorrow kept ?H ad he , though blindly contumel ious , broughtRheum to kind eyes , a s ting to humane thought ,Convuls ion to a mouth of many years ?H e had in truth : and he was ripe for tears .

The peni tent shower fe ll , as down he kneltBefore that care-worn sage , who trembling fe ltAbout his large dark locks , and faultering spake

Arise , good youth , for sacred Phoebus’ sake !I know thine inmos t bosom , and I fee lA very brother’s yearning for thee s tealInto my own : for why? thou openes tThe prison gates that have so long opprest

My weary watching . Though thou know’st i t not ,

Thou art commission’d to this fated spotFor great enfranchisement . O weep no more ;I am a friend to love , to loves of yoreAye , hads t thou never lov’d an unknown power ,I had been grieving at this joyous hour .

But even now most m iserable old ,

I saw thee , and my blood no longer coldGave m ighty pulses : in this tottering case

G rew a new heart , which a t th is moment plays

(286) I n the finished manuscript , humane : in the first ed ition human ,which must

sure ly b e an e rror und iscovered by Kea ts .

(29 1 ) The draft reads , ha lting ly, The youths in place ofAbout his .

(29 4 ) Cance l led read ing of the manuscript, fa ther ’s for br other

’

s.

I 58 END YM I GI V. [BOOK 1 1 1 .

As dancingly as thine . Be not afra id ,For thou sha lt hear this secre t a ll display’d ,

Now as we speed towards our joyous task .

”

So saying , this young soul in age’s mask

Went forward with the Carian s ide by s ideResum ing quickly thus ; whi le ocean’

s tideH ung swollen a t the ir backs , and jewel’d sandsTook s ilently the ir foot-prints .

My soul s tandsNow pas t the m idway from morta l i ty ,And so I can prepare without a s ighTo tel l thee briefly a ll my joy and pa in .

I was a fisher once, upon this ma in ,

And my boat danc’d in every creek and bayRough billows were my home by night and day,The sea -

gul ls not more constant ; for I hadNo hous ing from the s torm and tempests mad ,

But hol low rocks , - and they were pa lacesOf s i lent happiness , of s lumberous ease :

Long years of m isery have told me so .

Aye , thus i t was one thousand years ago .

One thousand years I s i t then poss ibleTo look so plainly through them ? to dispe lA thousand years wi th backward glance sublime ?To brea the away as ’twere al l scummy s l imeFrom off a crystal poo l , to see its deep ,

And one’s own image from the bottom pe ep ?

Yes : now I am no longer wretched thral l ,My long capt ivi ty and moanings all

Are but a s l ime , a th in-

pervading scum ,

The which I breathe away , and throng ing comeLike things of yes terday my youthful pleasures .

I touch’d no lute , I sang not , trod no measures

I was a lone ly youth on desert shores .

My sports were lone ly , ’mid cont inuous roars ,

And craggy is les , and sea-m ew’s pla int ive cry

307 ) The draft reads As youth/id ly as thine .

309 ) I n the draft, The while we

(329 ) For this line the dra ft hasAt one g lance back the m is tiness of time ?

(337 ) The draft reads myfirstyouth'

s pleasur es.

1 60 END YM I GIV. [BOOK 1 1 1 .

To feel distemper’d longings : to des ireThe utmost priv i lege that ocean’

s s ireCould grant in benedict ion : to be free

Of all his kingdom . Long in m iseryI was ted , ere in one e xtremest fi tI plung’d for l ife or death . To interk‘

ni tOne

’s senses wi th so dense a brea thing stufl

'

M ight seem a work of pa in ; so not enoughCan I adm ire how crys ta l- smooth it fe l t ,And buoyant round my l imbs . At firs t I dwe l tWhole days and days in sheer as tonishment ;Forgetful utterly of se lf- intent ;Moving but with the m ighty ebb and flow.

Then , l ike a new fledg’d bird that firs t doth show

H is spreaded fea thers to the morrow chill ,I try’d in fear the p inions of my wi ll .’Twas freedom ! and a t once I v is itedThe cease less wonders of this ocean-bed .

No need to tel l thee of them , for I seeThat thou has t been a wi tness— it must beFor these I know thou cans t not feel a drouth ,By the me lancholy corners of that mouth .

So I wi l l in my story s tra ightway passTo more immediate matter . Woe , a las !That love should be my bane ! Ah , Scylla fa ir !Why did poor G laucus ever ever dareTo sue thee to his heart ? Kind stranger-youth !I lov’d her to the very white of truth ,And she would not conce ive i t . T imi d thing !She fled me swift as sea -bird on the wing ,

Round every is le , and point , and promontory ,From where large H ercules wound up his storyFar as Egypt ian N i le . My pass ion grewThe more , the more I saw her da inty hueG leam del icate ly through the azure clear :(37 7 ) I n the finished manus cript the word become stands cance l led be tween to

and be.

(395) The draft g ives this l ine thusFor such a drink thou canst not fee l a drouth

The thought of the m e lancho l exp ress ion of the mouth of one who has seen

cease le ss wonders is p rob ab y a l lus ive to the portrait of D ante,foremost of a ll

beholders of “cea se less wonders .

(406) Whe the r the r efe rence is to the Pi l lars of H e rcu les ,the confluence of the

Med iterranean and Atlantic , or to the scene of the D ea th of H e rcules , is not veryc lear ; but probably wound up his story refers rather to his last labour than to hisdeath on Mount (Eta .

BOOK END PM ] ON . 1 6 1

Until ’twas too fierce agony to bearAnd in that agony , across my griefI t flashed , tha t C irce m ight find some re l iefCrue l enchantress ! So above the waterI rear’d my head , and look’d for Phoebus’ daughter .

E wa’s isle was wondering at the moon :

l t seem’

d to whirl around me , and a swoon

Left me dead-drifting to tha t fatal power .

When I awoke , ’twas in a twi l ight bower ;lust when the l ight of morn , wi th hum of bees ,S tole through its verdurous ma tting of fresh trees .

H ow swee t , and sweeter ! for I heard a lyre ,And over i t a s ighing voice e xpire .

I t ceas’d — I caught light foots teps ; and anon

The fa ires t face tha t morn e’er look

’d upon

Push’d through a screen of roses . Starry j ove !N ith tears , and sm iles , and honey-words she woveA net whose thra ldom was more bliss than all

The range of flower’d E lys ium . Thus did fal lThe dew of her r ich speech Ah ! Art awake ?O let me hear thee speak , for Cupid’s sake !I am so oppress

’d with joy ! Why , I have shed

An urn of tears , as though thou wert cold deadAnd now I find thee l iving , I wil l pourFrom these devoted eyes the ir s ilver s tore ,Until e xhausted of the lates t drop ,

So i t wi ll pleasure thee , and force thee s topH ere , that I too may l ive : but if beyondSuch cool and sorrowful Offerings , thou art fondOf soothing warmth , o f da ll iance supreme ;I f thou art ripe to taste a long love dream ;

(4 1 2) I n the draft , mig ht af or d relic/I(4 1 5) The draft reads loohing for wonder ing .

(4 1 7 ) Cance l led read ing of the m anuscrip t , towards for to.

(4 1 9 ) The draft reads Wha t time for yust when .

(421—2) Cance l led read ing of the manuscriptH ow sweet to m e ! and then I heard a LyreW ith which a s ighing voice .

(425) The draft reads M ig hty for S tar ry .

(429 ) The inverted commas before each l ine of this speech , to m ark it as onespee ch within another

,are in the m anuscript , b ut not in the first ed ition,

thoughcareful ly inserted in the correc ted copy in my possess ion.

432) The draft reads as if for a s thoug h.

436) I n the draft , wou ld in p lace ofwil l.

1 62 END YM I OZV. [BOOK 1 1 1.

I f smi les , if dimples , tongues for ardour mute ,H ang in thy vis ion l ike a tempt ing fruit ,0 let me pluck it for thee .

”Thus she link’d

H er charm ing syllables , ti ll indis tinctThe ir mus ic came to my o

’er-sweeten

’d soul ;

And then she hover’d. over me , and stole

So near , that if no nearer i t had beenThis furrow’

d visage thou hads t never seen .

Young man of Latmus ! thus part icularAm I , tha t thou may’s t pla inly see how farThis fierce tempta tion went : and thou may’s t notE xcla im , H ow then , was Scylla quite forgot ?

Who coul d resist ? Who in th is universe ?She did so breathe ambros ia ; so immerseMy fine e x is tence in a golden cl ime .

She took me l ike a child of suckling time .

And cradled me in roses . Thus condemn’d ,

The current of my former life was s temm’d ,

And to this arbitrary queen of sense

I bow’d a tranced vassa l ; nor would thence

H ave mov’d , even though Amphion’s harp had woo’d

Me back to Scylla o’er the billows rude .

For as Apollo each eve doth deviseA new appare l ing for wes tern skies ;So every eve , nay every spendthrift hourShed ba lmy consc iousness wi th in that bower .

And I was free of haunts umbrageous ;Could wander in the ma zy forest-houseOf squirre ls , foxes shy, and antler

’d deer ,

And birds from coverts innermost and drear

(44 1 ) I n the dra ft , r aptur e for ardour .

(445- 7 ) The draft reads thusThe ir mus ic came to my o

’

erswee ten’

d sense

And then I fe lt a hovering influenceA brea thing on my forehead .

(449 ) The first ed ition reads La tmos ; b ut the fin ished manuscript La tmus , as atpage 1 0 of the present volum e .

(451 ) The draft reads tha t for and ; and the word and is wanting in the finishedmanuscript , so that the l ine is a syllable short .

(461 ) I n the m anuscript, e ’

en for even.

466) The draft reads

Shed nectarous I nfluence within that bower.

1 64 END YM I OIV. [BOOK 1 1 1.

And take a dream ’mong rushes S tyg ian,

I t could not be so phantasy’

d . Fierce , wan,

And tyranni zing was the lady’s look ,As over them a gnarled s taff she shook .

Oft- t imes upon the sudden she laughed out ,And from a baske t empty’d to the routClus ters of grapes , the which they raven’

d quickAnd roar

’d for more ; wi th many a hungry l ickAbout the ir shaggy jaws . Avenging , s low,

Anon she took a branch of m is tle toe ,

And empty’d on

’t a black dull-gurgl ing phial

G roan’d one and all , as if some p ierc ing trial

Was sharpening for the ir pi t iable bones .

She l ifted up the charm : appeal ing groansFrom the ir poor breas ts went sueing to her carI n va in ; remorse le ss as an infant’s bierShe whisk

’d aga ins t the ir eyes the sooty oil .

Whereat was heard a noise of pa inful toi l ,Increas ing gradua l to a tempes t rage ,

Shrieks , ye lls , and groans of torture -

pilgrimage ;Unt i l the ir grieved bodies ’

gan to bloatAnd puff from the ta i l’s end to s tifled throatThen was appall ing s ilence : then a s ightMore wilde ring than a ll tha t hoarse affright ;For the whole herd , as by a whirlwind wri then ,

Went through the disma l air l ike one huge PythonAntagoni zing Boreas ,

— and so vanish’

d .

Ye t there was not a breath of wind : she banish’

d

These phantoms wi th a nod . Lo ! from the darkCome waggish fauns , and nymphs , and satyrs s tark ,Wi th danc ing and loud revelry ,— and wentSwift'er than centaurs after rapine bent .S ighing an e lephant appear’d and how’dBefore the fierce wi tch , speaking thus aloudI n human accent : Potent goddess ! chiefOf pains res istless ! make my be ing brief,

(537 ) The d raft reads For a la rg e E lephant ; and in the finished manuscript theme b '

ns with S eeing ,instead of S ighing as in the printed book .

(539 I n the dra ft this l ine s tands thusW ith human vo ice : 0 potent goddess

The inverted commas before each line to ma rk this speech wi thin speech are in thefinished manuscript as in the ca se of C irce ’

s speech ( l ine 4 29 ) b ut in this instanceKea ts does not seem to have noticed

,when correcting the printed book , that the

ma nuscrip t had be en departed from here a lso .

(540) The draft gives spe l ls and charms as a lternative readings forpains.

BOOK END I’M ] GIV. 1 65

Or let me from this heavy prison flyOr give me to the air, or let me die

I sue not for my happy crown aga in ;I sue not for my phalanx on the plain ;I sue not for my lone , my widow’d wife ;I sue not for my ruddy drops of l ife ,

My children fa ir , my love ly girls and boys !I wi l l forge t them ; I will pass these joys ;Ask nought so heavenward , so too too highOnly I pray , as fa ires t boon , to die ,Or be deliver

’d from this cumbrous flesh ,

From this gross , detestable , filthy mesh ,And mere ly g iven to the cold bleak air .

H ave mercy , Goddess ! Circe , fee l my prayer !

That curst magician’s name fe l l icy numb

Upon my wi ld conjecturing : truth had come

Naked and sabre- l ike aga inst my heart .I saw a fury whe tting a death -dart ;And my s la in spiri t , overwrought wi th fright ,Fainted away in that dark la ir of n ightThink , my del iverer , how desolateMy waking mus t have been ! disgust , and hate ,And terrors man ifold divided me

A spoi l amongst them . I prepar’d to fleeInto the dungeon core of tha t wild woodI fled three days— when 10 ! before m e s toodG laring the angry wi tch . 0 Dis , even now,

A clammy dew is bending on my brow,

At mere remember ing her pale laugh , and curse .

H a ! ha ! Sir D a inty there must be a nurse

(545—8) The d raft reads as fo l lowsI sue not for my lone ly, my dear W ife ,I sue not for my hearts blood d rops of l ife ,

My swee te st babes , my love ly girls and boys ,Ah ,

l ike ly they a re dead— I pa ss these joys(554 ) At this po int the draft reads thus

H ave me rcy goddess fee l oh fee l my prayer.Pity grea t C irce ! nor s ight nor syl lab leSaw I or heard I more of this s ick spe l l.

(560) I n the draft , du l l r ea lm for da r h lair .

567 ) I n the finished manuscrip t we read e’

en for even.

(569 ) I n the manuscript , r emembring .

(57 0) This l ine beg ins with Ah , Ah , in the finished manuscript , andWoodhousenotes

,in apparent a llus ion to the draft, formerly 0 / 0/ The inverted commas

1 66 END VM I ON .

Made of rose leaves and thistledown, express ,To cradle thee my swee t , and lull thee : yes ,I am too flinty

-hard for 'thy nice touchMy tenderes t squee ze is but a g iant’s clutch .

SO , fa iry- thing , i t shal l have lul labiesUnheard of ye t ; and i t sha ll s ti ll its criesUpon some breas t more l il ly-feminine .

Oh , no i t sha ll not pine , and p ine , and p ineMore than one pre tty , trifling thousand years ;And then ’twere p i ty , but fate’s gentle shearsCut short its immortal ity . Sea-flirt !

Young dove of the waters ! truly I ’ll not hurtOne ha ir of thine : see how I weep and s igh ,Tha t our heart-broken parting is so nigh .

And mus t we part ? Ah , yes , i t mus t be so.

Yet ere thou leaves t me in utter woe ,Le t me sob over thee my las t adieus ,And speak a bless ing : Mark me Thou has t thewsImmorta l , for thou art of heavenly race

But such a love is m ine , that here I chaceEternal ly away from thee al l bloomOf youth , and des tine thee towards a tomb .

H ence shal t thou quickly to the wa te ry vas t ;And there , ere many days be overpas t ,D isabled age shal l se i ze thee ; and even thenThou sha lt not go the way of aged men ;

But l ive and wi ther , cripple and s till brea theTen hundred years : which gone , I then bequea thThy fragi le bones to unknown burial .Adieu , swee t love , adieu _ As shot s tars fa ll ,

She fled ere ! could groan for mercy . S tungAnd poison

’d was my spiri t : despa ir sung

A war-song of defiance ’

ga ins t all he ll .

[BOOK in.

before each line aga in occur both in the manuscript and in the corrected copy ofthe first ed it ion , but were not p rinted in tha t ed ition.

i57 5) The dra ft reads tender forfairy.

57 7 ) I n the draft , z ephyr in p lace of lil ly,and in the ne xt l ine but one , little for

trifling .

(58 1 - 3) The drah gives th is passage thusG rea t Jove

What fury of the three cou ld harm this doveD ear youth ! see how I weep ,

hear how Iin which Gr eat

_

‘

7 0ve is ce rta inly p referable to Sea -fl ir t

i595588 The finished manuscript reads Thou hadst thews.

The word even is contracted to e’

en in the finished manuscript.

1 68 END YM I ON'

. [BOOK 1 1 1

I left poor Scylla in a ni che and fled .

My fever’d parchings up , my scathing dread

Met palsy ha lf way : soon these l imbs became

Gaunt , wither’d , sapless , feeble , cramp’

d , and lame .

Now let me pass a crue l , cruel space ,Without one hope , without one fa intes t traceOf m i tiga tion , or redeem ing bubbleOf colour

’d phantasy ; for I fear ’twould troubleThy bra in to loss of reason : and next te llH ow a res tor ing chance came down to que llOne hal f of the witch in me .

On a day,S i tting upon a rock above the spray ,I saw grow up from the hori zon’

s brinkA gallant vesse l : soon she seem

’d to s ink

Away from me aga in , as though her courseH ad been resum

’d in spi te of hindering force50 vanish

’d : and not long , before arose

Dark clouds , and muttering of winds morose .

Old [ Eolus would s tifle his mad spleen ,

But could not : therefore all the bi llows greenToss

’d up the s i lver spume aga ins t the clouds .

The tempes t came : I saw tha t vesse l’s shroudsI n peri lous bustle ; while upon the deckS tood trembling creatures . I beheld the wreck ;The final gulphing ; the poor struggl ing soulsI heard the ir cries am id loud thunder-rolls .

0 they had al l been sav’d but cra zed eld

Annull’d my vigorous cravings : and thus quell’d

And curb’d , think on’

t , O Latmian ! did I sitWri thing wi th pity , and a curs ing fitAgainst that hel l-born Circe . The crew had gone ,By one and one , to pale oblivion ;And I was gazing on the surges prone ,

Wi th many a scalding tear and many a groan,

When at my fee t emerg’d an old man

’s hand ,

(644 ) I n the finished m anuscr ipt the word sma l l is cance l led be fore r estoring .

(650) I n the dra ft this l ine readsShe would resume in spite of adverse force .

(653) (Bolus in the manuscript, E olus in the first ed it ion.

(655) I n the finished manuscr ipt , their silver spume, not the .


Grasping this scroll , and this same s lender wand .

I kne lt wi th pain— reach’d out my hand had grasp

’d

These treasures— touch’d the knuckles — they unclasp’dI caught a finger : but the downward we ight

O’erpowered me i t sank . Then ’

gan abateThe s torm , and through chill aguish gloom outburstThe comfortable sun . I was athirstTo search the book , and in the warming air

Parted its dripping leaves wi th eager care .

S trange matters did i t trea t of, and drew on

My soul page after page , ti ll we l l-nigh wonInto forgetfulness ; when s tupefied ,

I read these words , and read aga in , and triedMy eyes aga ins t the heavens , and read aga in .

O what a load of m isery and pa inEach Atlas - l ine bore off a shine of hopeCame gold around me , cheering me to copeS trenuous wi th he ll ish tyranny . AttendFor thou hast brought the ir prom ise to an end.

I n the wide sea ther e lives a f or lorn wr etch,D oom

’d with enf eebled ca r ca se to outstr etch

H is loa th’d existence thr ough ten centuries ,

And then to die a lone . Who can deviseA tota l opposition N o one . So

One million times ocean must ebb and fl ow ,

And he oppr essed . Yet he sha ll not die,These things a ccomplish

’d : I f he utter lyS cans a ll the depths of magic, and expoundsThe meanings of a ll motions , shapes , and sounds;If he explor es a ll form s and substances

S tra ight homewa rd to their symbol-essences

H e sha ll not die . M or eover , a nd in chief ,

h'

e must pur sue this tash of j oy and g riefM ost pious ly ; a ll lover s tempest-tost ,And in the savage overwhelming lost ,

(67 8) The draft reads Unfolded its damp leaves.(685—6) The draft reads

swee t rays of hopeG lanc

’

d round me cheering me a t once to cope .

(689 ) The word Listen stands in the finished manuscr ipt a t the beginning of thisline , mak ing an Alexandr ine o fit b ut it is struck through with a penc i l.(69 7 ) I n the d raft this l ine beg ins with Sounds instead of Scans .

(7 02) The draft reads heaviest g r ief for j oy andg r ief :

[Boon 1 1 1 .

H e sha ll deposit side by side , until

Tim e’s cr eeping sha ll the dr ea ry spa cef ulfil

Which done , and a ll these labour s ripened ,

A youth , by heaven ly power lov’d and led ,

Sha ll stand bef or e him ; whom he sha ll dir ect

H ow to consumma te a ll . The youth elect

M ust do the thing , or both will be destroy’d .

”

Then, cried the young Endymion , overjoy’d ,

We are twin brothers in this dest iny !Say, I intrea t thee , what achievement highI s , in this res tless world , for me reserv

’d .

What ! if from thee my wandering fee t had swerv’

d ,

H ad we both perish’

d ? Look the sage reply’d ,

D ost thou not mark a gleaming through the tide ,Of diverse bril liances ? ’

tis the edificeI told thee of, where love ly Scyl la l ies ;And where I have enshrined piouslyAll lovers , whom fel l storms have doom’

d to die

Throughout my bondage .

” Thus discours ing , on

They went til l unobscur’d the porches shone ;Which hurryingly they gain’d , and enter

’d s tra ight .

Sure neve r s ince king Neptune he ld his s tateWas s een such wonder underneath the s tars .

Turn to some le ve l plain where haughty Mars

H as legion’d a ll his battle ; and behold

H ow every soldier , with firm foot , doth holdH is even breas t : see , many s tee led squares ,And rig id ranks of iron whence who daresOne s tep ? Imagine further , l ine by line ,

These warrior thousands on the fie ld supineSo in that crysta l place , in s i lent rows ,Poor lovers lay at res t from joys and woes .

The s tranger from the mounta ins , brea thless , trae’dSuch thousands of eyes in order plac’d ;Such ranges of white feet , and patient lipsAll ruddy , — for here death no blossom nips .

H e mark’d the ir brows and foreheads ; saw the ir hair

Put s leekly on one s ide with n ices t care ;

(7 1 9 ) The fir st ed ition reads diver s but the manuscript reads diver se , the fina le be ing crossed through with a pencil : p robably this wa s one of the change s made

by Taylor which Kea ts did not approve ; for diver se gives the more chara cteristicsense.

I 7 2 END YM I 01V. [BOOK I n .

These m inced leaves on me , and pass ing throughThose fi les of dead , scat ter the same around ,And thou wi l t see the issue .

” ’Mid the soundOf flutes and viols , ravishing his heart ,Endym ion from G laucus stood apart ,And scatter

’d in his face some fragments l ight .

H ow l igh tning-swift the change a youthful Wigh tSm i l ing beneath a cora l diadem ,

Out-sparkling sudden l ike an upturn’d gem ,

Appear’d , and , s tepping to a beauteous corse ,

Kneel’d down be s ide i t , and wi th tenderes t forcePress

’d its cold hand , and wept , — and Scylla sigh

’

d !

Endym ion , with qui ck hand , the charm apply’d

The nymph arose : he left them to the ir joy,And onward went upon his high employ ,Showering those powerful fragments on the dead .

And , as he pass’d , each l ifted up its head ,

As cloth a flower a t Apol lo’

s touch .

D eath fe l t it to his inwards : ’twas too muchD eath fel l a weeping in his charne l-house .

The Latmian persever’d a long , and thus

All were re -animated . There arose

A noise of harmony , pulses and throesOf gladness in the air while many , whoH ad died in mutual arms devout and true ,Sprang to each other madly ; and the res tFelt a high certa inty of be ing blest .They ga z ’d upon Endym ion . EnchantmentG rew drunken , and would have its head and bent .D e licious symphonies , l ike a iry flowers ,Budded , and swe ll

’d , and , ful l-blown , shed ful l showers

Of l ight , soft , unseen leaves of sounds divine .

The two de l iverers tas ted a pure wineOf happiness , from fairy-press ooz

’d out .

Speechless they ey’d each other , and about(7 87 ) The dra ft reads a t for to.

(7 9 1 ) The draft reads A hum,a harmony. Compare the read ing of the text with

S leep and PoetryThe fervid cho ir tha t l ifted up a noiee

Of

(7 9 5) The draft re ads sweet for‘

hi h .

(7 9 6) The va ria tion Ravishment or E nchantment stands cance l led in the fin

ished manuscrip t.(802) The draft reads

Of happiness , not from earth ly grape s pre ss’

d out .

BOOK END YM ] ON . I 7 3

The fa ir assembly wander’d to and fro ,

D is tracted wi th the r iches t overflowOf joy that ever pour’d from heaven .

Away ! ”Shouted the new born god ; Follow,

and payOur pie ty to N eptunus supreme

Then Scylla , blushing sweet ly from her dream ,

They led on firs t , bent to her meek surprise ,"Through porta l columns of a giant s i ze ,Into the vaulted , boundless emera ld .

Joyous all follow’d , as the leader ca ll’d ,

D own marble steps ; pouring as eas i lyAs hour-glass sand , and fast , as you m ight seeSwallows obeying the south summ er

’s call ,

Or swans upon a gentle waterfa ll .Thus went tha t beautiful mul titude , nor far ,

Ere from among some rocks of gl i ttering spar ,Just wi thin ken , they saw descending thickAnother multi tude . Wherea t more quickMov’d e ither hos t . On a wide sand they met ,

And of those numbers every eye was wet ;For each the ir old love found . A murmur ing rose ,

Like what was never heard in all the throesOf wind and waters : ’

tis pas t human witTo tell ; ’

tis dizz iness to think of i t .This m ighty consummation made , the hos t

Mov’d on for many a league ; and gain’d , and lost

H uge sea -marks ; vanward swe ll ing in array ,And from the rear dim inishing away ,T i l l a fa int dawn surpris

’d them . G laucus cry’d ,

(8 1 1 ) Thoug h stands for Thr ough both in the finished manuscript and in the

first ed it ion.

(832 I n the draft this passage reads thusT i l l a fa int dawning b loom ’

d—and G laucus cried,

Beho ld ! beho ld ,the pa lace of his pride !

Of God N eptunus p ride . W ith hum increasedThe host moved on towa rds tha t brightening east.

And as it moved a long proud dom es arose

I n prospect , d iamond g leam s,and go lden g lows

Of ambe r le ve l ing aga inst the ir faces .

W ith e xpectat ion high , and hurried pacesS ti l l onwa rd ; &c .

The word hum instead of noise in l ine 834 wa s repea ted in the finished manuscript,which reads otherwise l ike the pr inted text .

1 7 4 END YM I ON . [BOOK m .

Behold ! behold , the palace of his pride !God Neptune’s palaces With noise increas’d ,

They shoulder’d on towards tha t brightening eas t .At every onward step proud domes arose

I n prospect , diamond gleams , and golden g lowsOf amber ’

ga ins t the ir faces leve l l ing .

Joyous , and many as the leaves in spr ing ,

S til l onward ; s t i ll the splendour gradua l swe ll’d .

Rich opa l domes were seen , on high upheldBy jasper p il lars , le tt ing through the ir shaftsA blush of cora l . Copious wonder-draughtsEach ga zer drank ; and deeper drank more near

For wha t poor morta ls fragment up , as mere

As marble was there la v ish , to the vas tOf one fa ir palace , that far far surpas s’d ,

Even for common bulk , those olden three ,Memphis , and Babylon , and N ineveh .

As large , as bright , as colour’d as the bow

Of I ris , when unfading i t doth showBeyond a s i lve ry showe r , was the archThrough which th is Paphian army took its march ,Into the outer courts of Neptune

’s s tate

Whence could be seen , direct , a golden ga te ,To which the leade rs sped ; but not half raughtEre i t burs t open swift as fa iry thought ,And made those dazzled thousands ve i l the ir eyesLike callow eagles a t the firs t sunrise .

Soon wi th an eagle nat iveness the ir ga zeRipe from hue -

golden swoons took a ll the blaze ,And then , behold large Neptune on his throneOf emera l d deep : ye t not e xa lt a lone ;(845

) Cance l led read ing of the manuscript , tr easur e up for f r agment up. The

use 0 the word mer e he re,though pe cu liar, 1 5 not withou t authority, trifling and

common be ing among the e qu iva lents g iven by Ash.

(84 7 ) The dra ft reads

Of one fair pa lace , that to nothing cast

and in the finished manus cr ipt we have the read ing a s fizr struck out in favour o f

fa r fa r .

(859—6 1 ) This s im i le must sure ly b e a rem iniscence of Pe rr in'

s Fables Amusantes

or some s im i lar book used in M r. C larke ’

s S choo l . I remember the Fable of the

old eag le and her young stood first in the book I used a t schoo l. The draft g ivesl ine 860 thus

But soon l ike eagles native ly the ir

1 7 6 END YM I ON .

A toying with the doves . Then , Mighty crownAnd sceptre of this kingdom Venus sa id ,Thy vows were on a t ime to Na is pa id :

Behold Two cop ious tear-drops instant fel lFrom the God’s large eyes ; he smil’d de lectable ,

And over G laucus held his bless ing hands .

Endym ion ! Ah sti l l wandering in the bandsOf love ? Now this is crue l . S ince the hourI me t thee in earth’s bosom , a ll my power

H ave I put forth to serve thee . What , not yetE scap

’d from dull mortal ity’s harsh net ?

A l ittle patience , youth ’twil l not be long ,

Or I am sk i lless qui te : an i dle tongue ,A hum id eye , and s teps luxurious ,

Where these are new and s trange , are om inous .

Aye , I have seen these s igns in one of heaven ,

When othe rs were a ll blind ; and were I givenTo utter secre ts , haply I might saySom e pleasant words : but Love wi l l have his day.

So wai t awhile e xpectant . Pr’ythee soon,

Even in the pass ing of thine honey-moon ,

Vis i t thou my Cythera : thou wi lt findCupid wel l-na tured , my Adonis kind ;And pray persuade wi th thee Ah , I have done ,All blisses be upon thee , my swee t son

Thus the fa ir goddess : whi le Endym ionKne l t to receive those accents halcyon .

Meantime a glorious revelry beganBefore the Wa ter-Monarch . Nectar ran

I n courteous founta ins to a ll cups outreach’d ;And plunder

’d vines , teem ing e xhaus t less , pleach’d

[BooK I I I .

(89 9 ) G laucus was the son of Na is (one of the Oceanides ) by Magnes .

(903;I n the manuscript , wandrzng .

(907 The d raft reads r ough for har sh.

(9 1 3) The draft reads When other’

s sight was blind ; and in the next l ine b utone honey for p leasant.

(9 1 7 ) I n the finished m anuscript , even is contracted to e’

en .

(9 1 8- 1 9 ) Woodhouse ,apparent ly fo llowing the draft , g ive s this couple t thusV is it thou my Cithe ra : thou wi l t find

Cup id a trea sure,myAdonis kind

and I presume there can b e no doubt that the re ading o f the finished m anuscript

and ai

tion. The refe rence is unque st ionably to the island Cythera ,

(9 22) The draft has blithe in place offair,

printed ed itions , Visit my Cyther ea ,wa s the result o f an error of transcrip

BOOK END YM I ON . I 7 7

New growth about each shel l and pendent lyre ;The which , in disentangl ing for the ir fire ,Pull

’d down fresh foliage and coverture

For da inty toying . Cupid , empire- sure ,

Flutter’d and laugh

’d , and oft- t imes through the throngMade a de l ighted way. Then dance , and song ,

And garlanding grew wild ; and pleasure reign’d .

I n harm less tendri l they each other chain’d ,

And s trove who should be smother’d deepest inFresh crush of leaves .

0 ’tis a very sin

For one so weak to venture his poor verseI n such a place as this . O do not curse ,H igh Muse s ! let him hurry to the ending .

All suddenly were s i lent . A soft blendingOf dulcet instruments came charm ingly ;And then a hymn .

K I NG of the s tormy sea !Brother of Jove , and co- inheri torOf e lements E terna lly beforeThee the waves awful bow.

’ Fast , s tubborn rock ,At thy fear’d trident shrink ing ,

doth unlockI ts deep foundat ions , hiss ing into foam .

All mounta in- rivers , los t in the wide homeOf thy capacious bosom , ever flow .

Thou frownest , and old o lus thy foeSkulks to his cavern ,

’mid the gruff compla int

(9 30) I n the draft , ful l instead offl esh.

(9 34—5) The dra ft re ads thusand wi ldnes s re igns .

They bound each o the r up in tendri l(9 37 ) I n the d raft , cr ushing ,

not cr ush of:(9 45) This passage was written thu s

Eterna l ly in awe

Of thee the Waves b ow down.

The read ing of the text is inserted with a penc i l in the finished m anuscript.

(9 49—50) I n the draft these two l ines we re written and po inted thusA thousand r ivers

,lost in the wide hom e

Of thy capac ious bosom ,ever fl ow.

And in the finished m anuscript a lso there is a comm a after hasam and none after

lost. This is c lea rly sufficient evidence on which to reject the punctuat ion of the

firs t and other printed ed itions,which p lace a comma after lost and none after

bosom .

1 7 8 El l/Y) YM ] 01V.

Of a ll his rebe l tempests . D ark clouds fa intWhen , from thy diadem , a s ilver gleamS lants over blue dominion . Thy bright teamGulphs in the morn ing l ight , and scuds alongTo bring thee nearer to that golden songApollo s inge th , while his chariotWa its at the doors of heaven . Thou art not

For scenes l ike this : an emp ire stern has t thou ;And i t hath furrow’

d that large front : yet now,

As newly come of heaven , dos t thou sit

To blend and interkni tSubdued majes ty wi th this glad time ,

0 she ll -borne King sub l ime

We lay our hearts before thee evermoreWe s ing , and we adore

Brea the softly , flutesBe tender of your s trings , ye sooth ing lutes ;Nor be the trumpe t hea rd ! 0 va in , O va in ;Not flowe rs budding in an Apri l ra in ,

Nor breath of s leeping dove , nor r ive r’s flow,

NO , nor the ZEolian twang of Love’s own bow,

Can m ingle mus ic fi t for the soft ear

Of goddess CythereaYet de ign , white Queen of Beauty , thy fa ir eyesOn our souls’ sacrifice .

Bright-winged ChildWho has another ca re when thou has t smil’d ?Unfortunates on earth . we see a t las tAll death - shadows , and glooms tha t overcas tOur sp iri ts , fanu’d away by thy l ight pinions .

(954—6) The draft readsWhen thy brigh t d iadem a s i lve r lea rnO

’

e r blue dom inion s ta rts. Thy nny team

Snorts in the morning l ight , and sends

Compare Hyperion ,Book I I , Line 236

(960

(9 62l

I saw him on the ca lmed waters

The m anuscript shows a cance l led read ing ,these for this .

Woodhouse note s , p resumab ly from the d raft,the varia tion

Like a young child of heaven,dost thou srt

(9 7 9 ) The draft reads

Who is not full of heaven when thou hast smil 'd P

[BOOK I I I .

I 80 END YM I ON . [BOOK 1 1 1 .

Of Nere ids were about him , in kind strifeTo usher back his spirit into l ifeBut s t i l l he s lept . At last t hey interwoveThe ir cradling arms , and purpos

’

d to conveyTowards a crys ta l bower far away .

Lo ! while slow carried through the pitying crowd,To his inward senses these words spake a loud ; 1 020

Wri tten in s tar- light on the dark aboveD ea r est Endymion my entir e love !

H ow have I dwelt in f ea r of f ate’tis done

I mmor ta l bliss for me too ha st thou won .

Arise then for the hen-dove sha ll not ha tch

H er r ea dy eggs , befor e I’ll hissing sna tch

Thee into endless heaven . Awahe awahe .’

The youth at once arose : a placid lakeCame quiet to his eyes ; and fores t green ,

Cooler than al l the wonders he had seen ,

Lull’d wi th its s imple song his fluttering breas t .

H ow happy once aga in in grassy nes t !

( 1 01 5) After this l ine are the four fol lowing in the draftThey gave him nec tar shed bright drops , and stroveLong time in vain. At las t they interwoveTheir crad l ing arms

,and ca re fu l ly conveyed

H is body towards a quiet bowe ry shade .

Pe rhaps the last three words were found inappropriate to the submar ine sceneryand thus led to the los s of the rhyme . I n the finished manuscript, after Their

cr adlin arms , and , Keats had written did his, probably meaning to comp lete the

l ine wit some such expre ss ion as body move ; b ut he s truck did his out and wrote

ca r ried him, then cance lled tha t, and supplied the read ing of the text . Were it not

for the gre a te r proprie ty of the crysta l bower ,there would b e a strong temptat ion to

restore the read ing of the draft , me re ly substi tut ing crysta l for bowery.

( 1 01 9 ) Cance l led read ings , pa r ting cr owd for pitying cr owd in the draft , and

thr ong for cr owd in the finished manuscript .( 1 022) The draft reads my own entir e love !

( 1 026) The draft reads madly for hissing .

( 1 032) At the end of this Book Keats wrote in the draft , Oxf Sept. 26.

E N D YM I O N .

BOOK I V .

USE of my native land ! lofties t Muse

O first-born on the mounta ins by the huesOf heaven on the spiri tua l air begot

Long dids t thou sit a lone in northern grot ,While yet our England was a wolfish den ;Before our forests heard the talk of men ;

Before the firs t of D ruids was a child ;Long didst thou sit am id our reg ions wi ldRapt in a deep proph e tic sol i tude .

There came an eastern voice Of solemn moodYet wast thou pat ient . Then sang forth the N ine ,Apollo’s garland yet didst thou divineSuch hom e -bred glory , that they cry’d in va in ,

Come hi ther , S ister of the I sland ! ” Pla inSpake fa ir Ausonia ; and once more she spakeA higher summons s ti ll dids t thou be takeThee to thy native hopes . O thou hast wonA full accompl ishment The thing is done ,Which undone , these our latter days had risen

(2) This l ine or ig ina l ly began with 0 M ountain-born in the d raft, where a lso

tands cance l led in favour of by.

The draft reads voice for ta lh, and in l ine 7 babe for child.

Cance l led read ing of the m anuscript , an hebr ew voice .

The draft reads those nine . The references to the H ebrew, Greek , Roman,

and I ta l ian l ite ratures a re scarce ly as c lear and po inted as m ight have been ex

pected from Kea ts .

( 1 3) I n the finished manuscript , in vain they cry’

d.

( 1 4 ) The dra ft g ives from the I sland.

( 1 6) The draft reads I n self surpassing summons .

( 1 7 ) Orig ina l ly an A lexandrine ,in both the manuscripts

Thee to thyse lf and to thy hope s . O thou ha s t wonbut a ltered in the second m anu script so a s to corre spond with the text.( 1 9 ) I n the dra ft

,thus

Which wanting a ll these la tter days had dawud

I 82 EN D YM ! ON . [BOOK IV.

On barren souls . Great Muse , thou know’st what prison ,

Of flesh and bone , curbs , and confines , and fre tsOur spirit’s wings : despondency besetsOur pi llows ; and the fresh to-morrow morn

Seems to give forth its l ight in very scornOf our dull , uninspired , sna il-paced l ives .

Long have I sa id , how happy he who shrivesTo thee But then I thought on poets gone ,And could not pray — nor can I now so on

I move to the end in lowl iness of heart .

Ah , woe is me ! that I should fondly .partFrom my dear na tive land ! Ah , fool ish ma id !G lad was the hour , when , wi th thee , myriads badeAdieu to Ganges and the ir pleasant fie ldsTo one so friendless the clear freshet yie ldsA bi tter coolness ; the ripe grape is sour

Yet I would have , grea t gods ! but one short hourOf native air let me but die at home .

”

Endymion to heaven’s airy domeWas offering up a he catomb of vows ,When these words reach

’d him . Whereupon he bows

H is head through thorny-green entanglementOf underwood , and to the sound is bent ,Anxious as hind towards her hidden fawn .

I s no one near to help me ? No fa ir dawnOf l ife from chari table voice ? No swee t sayingTo set my dul l and sadden

’d spiri t playing ?

No hand to toy wi th m ine ? No l ips so swee t

(20) The draft re ads 0h M use,no t Gr ea t M use .

(31 ) The d raft read s With for From.

(34—6) I n the dra ft l ines 34 and 36 read thusWhere no friends a re ,

the ve ry freshe t yie ldsThen take my l ife , grea t Gods for one short

I n the finished m anuscript th is las t line origina l ly began with And,which

struck out and rep laced by Yet.(4 1 - 2) Cance l led read ings from the draft

thro’ever rough entang lem ent

thickI n the briar'd j

(45) The draft reads hope for l ife ; but ne ithe r manuscript a ffords any he lp tothis a i ling l ine . [ Voice is e vidently scanned as a dissylab le . Am . E d ]

1 84 END YM I ON . [BOOK Iv.

So faint a kindness , such a meek surrenderTo what my own ful l thoughts had made too tender ,That but for tears my l ife had fled awayYe deaf and sense less m inutes of the day,And thou , old forest , hold ye this for true ,

There is no l ightning , no authent i c dewBut in the eye of love : there’s not a sound ,Melodious howsoever , can confoundThe heavens and earth in one to such a deathAs doth the voice of love : there’s not a breathWill m ingle kindly wi th the meadow air ,T i l l i t has panted round , and s tolen a shareOf pas s ion from the heart

Upon a boughH e leant , wre tched . H e sure ly cannot nowThirst for another love : 0 impious ,That he can even dream upon i t thusThought he , Why am I not as are the dead ,S ince to a woe l ike this I have been ledThrough the dark earth , and through the wondrous sea ?

Goddess I love thee not the less : from theeBy Juno’

s sm i le I turn not— no , no , no

While the great waters are a t ebb and flow.

7 4 ) I n the dra ft , fair forfid l .7 6

-7 ) The d raft reads as fo l lows

Swee t shadow,b e d ist inct awhile and stay

While I speak to thee— trust me it is

(7 9 ) Cance l led read ing of the manuscript , a Lover '

s eye ins tead of the eye 0 Love .

(82) The dra ft reads , correspond ingly with the cance l led read ing of the nishedmanuscript in l ine 7 9 ,

As wi l l a lover’s voice : there ’

s not a

(85) The draft has the fol lowing passage a t this po intOf pas s ion from the heart—Where love is notOnly is so l itude poor shadow ! wha tI say thou hea re st not ! away begoneAnd le ave m e prythee wi th my grief a lone !The La tmian lean

'

d his a rm upon a bough ,A wretched m orta l : what can he do now?Must he another Love ? 0

(89—9 2) I n the finished manus cript, the note of interroga tionis a t the end of l ine89 and a fu l l-s top at the end of l ine 9 1 .

9 2) The draft reads M ine own for Goddess.

9 4) At this po int the draft shows the fo l lowing variat ionWhile the fa ir moon gives l ight , or r ive rs fl owMy adora tion of thee I S ye t pure

As infants pra ttling . H ow is this—why sure

I have a tripp le soul !

BOOK 1 v.] END YM I ON . I 85

I have a triple soul ! 0 fond pre tenceFor both , for both my love is so immense ,

I fee l my heart is cut for them in twa in .

”

And so he groan’

d , as one by beauty sla in .

The lady’s heart beat qui ck , and he could seeH e r gent le bosom heave tumultuous ly .

H e sprang from his green covert : ‘ there she lay,Sweet as a muskrose upon new-made hay ;Wi th a ll her l imbs on tremble , and her eyesShut soft ly up al ive . To speak he tries .

Fa ir damsel , p i ty me ! forgive that IThus violate thy bower’s sanctity !O pardon me , for I am full of griefG rief born of thee , young ange l ! fa ires t thief !Who stolen hast away the wings Wherewi thI was to top the heavens . D ear ma id , s ithThou art my e xecutioner , and I fee lLov ing and ha tred , m isery and wea l ,Will in a few short hours be nothing to me ,

And a ll my story tha t much passion s lew me ;D o sm i le upon the e vening of my days :And ,

for my tortur’d bra in begins to craze ,

Be thou my nurse ; and let me understandH ow dying I shall kiss that l illy hand .

D os t weep for me ? Thenshould I be content .Scowl on , ye fates ! unti l the firmament

Outb lackens Erebus , and the ful l- cavern’d earth

Crumbles into i tse lf. By the cloud g irthOf Jove , those tears have given me a thirstTo mee t oblivion .

”- As her heart would burst

The ma iden sobb’

d awhile , and then reply’d

Why mus t such desolat ion betide

(9 7 ) I n the first ed ition this l ine isI fee l my heart is cut in twa in for them .

And it is le ft so in the corrected copy. I t was orig ina l ly wr itten so in the finishedmanuscript , where ,

however , the invers ion of the la st four words is d irected inpenc i l , so tha t the right read ing ,

that of the text, mus t have been lost through a

series of overs ights .

( 1 04 ) H ere aga in the draft is fu ller , thusShut softly up a l ive—Ye harmoniesYe tranced vis ions ye flights idea lNothing a re ye to l ife so da inty rea l0 Lady p ity me !

1 86 END YAI I ON . [ BOOK I V.

As tha t thou speak’st of Are not these green nooks

Empty of a ll m isfortune ? D o the brooksU tter a gorgon voice ? D oes yonder thrush ,School ing its half-fledg’d l itt le ones to b rushAbout the dewy forest , whisper ta les ?Speak not of grief, young s tranger , or cold sna i lsWil l s l ime the rose to night . Though if thou wi lt ,Me thinks ’twould be a gui l t— a very gui l tNot to companion thee , and s igh awayThe l ight the dusk the dark t ill break of day !

D ear lady ,” sa id Endym ion ,

’tis pastI love thee and my days can neve r las t .

Tha t I may pass in pa tience s t ill speak :Let me have mus ic dying , and I se ekN0 more de l ight— l bid adieu to a ll .

D ids t thou not after other cl ima tes call ,And murmur about Indian streams ? — Then she ,S itt ing beneath the m idmost fores t tree ,For pi ty sang this rounde lay

O Sorrow,

Why dost borrow

( 1 27 ) I n this l ine we read speahst in the fin ished manuscript , but speahest in thefirs t ed ition.

1 28 ) For this cho ice use of the word empty, compa re Shakespeare ,Love

’

s

Labour'

s Lost , Act V, S cene 1 1 , l ine 87 8

And I sha l l find you empty of tha t fau lt( 1 36) After this l ine the speech of Phoebe stil l goes on in the draft ; and Endymion’

s answer var ies , thusCanst thou do so? I s there no ba lm ,

no cure

Cou ld no t a be ckoning H ebe s oon a l lureThee into Parad ise ? What sorrowingSo we ighs thee down what u tmost woe could bringThis madness—Sit thee down by me

,and ea se

Thine hea rt in whispe rs hap ly by degreesI may find out som e soothing m ed icine .

”

D ear Lady, sa id Endym ion ,

“I p ine

I die — the tender accents thou has t SpokenH ave finish'

d a l l - my hea rt is lost and broken.

That I m ay pass in pa t ience s t i ll speakLet me have mus ic dying ,

and I seekNo more de l ight I bid ad ieu to a ll.

D idst thou no t after othe r c l ima tes ca l lAnd m urmur about I nd ian streams now

,now

I l isten,it may save me O my vow

Le t me have mus ic dying ! The ladye

S itt ing benea th the m idmost forest tre e

W ith tears of p ity sang this rounde lay

I 88 END YM I ON . [BOOK 1v..

And thought to leave her far away behind ;But cheerly , cheerly ,She loves me dearly ;

She is so constant to me , and so kindI would dece ive herAnd so leave her ,

But ah she is so cons tant and so kind .

Benea th my palm trees , by the river s ide ,

I sat a weeping : in the whole world wideThere was no one to ask me why I wept ,

And so I keptBrimm ing the water- l i l ly cups with tears

Cold as my fears .

Beneath my palm trees , by the river s ide ,I sa t a weeping : what enamour’d bride ,Chea ted by shadowy wooe r from the clouds ,

But hides and shroudsBeneath dark palm trees by a river s ide ?

And as I sat , over the l ight blue hillsThere came a noise of reve llers : the ri llsInto the wide stream came of purple hue

’Twas Bacchus and his crew !

The earnes t trumpe t spake , and s i lver thril lsFrom kiss ing cymbals made a merry din

’Twas Bacchus and his kin !Like to a moving vintage down they came ,

Crown’d with green leaves , and faces al l on flame ;

All madly dancing through the pleasant val ley ,To scare thee , Me lancholy !

0 then , 0 then, thou was t a s imple name !

And I forgot thee , as the berried hollyBy shepherds is forgotten, when , in June ,Ta ll chesnuts keep away the sun and moon :

I rush’d into the folly !

( 1 8 1 ) The draft reads this l ine thusBut ah ! she is too constant and too kind .

I n the draft , Chil l'

d with str ang efl ar s.

The draft'

ves lover for wooer .

jThe draft

!

rea ds down for throug h and my for thee .

n the draft B eeches instead of chesnuts.

BOOK 1v.] END YM I ON .

Within his car , aloft , young Bacchus s tood ,Trifling his ivy-dart , in dancing mood ,

With s idelong laughing ;And l ittle r i lls of crimson wine '

imbru’d

H is plump whi te arms , and shoulders , enough whi teFor Venus

’

pearly bi te :And near him rode S i lenus on his ass ,Pelted with flowers as he on did pass

T ips i ly quafling .

Whence came ye , merry D amsels ! whence came ye !So many , and so many , and such glee ?Why have ye left your bowers desolate ,

Your lutes , and gentler fate ?We follow Bacchus ! Bacchus on the wing ,

A conquering !Bacchus , young Bacchus good or ill betide ,We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide :Come hither , lady fa ir , and joined be

To our wi ld m instre lsy !Whence came ye , jolly Satyrs ! whence came ye !

So many , and so many , and such glee ?Why have ye left your fores t haunts , why leftYour nuts in oak- tree cleft ?

For wine , for wine we left our kernel tree ;For wine we left our hea th , and yellow brooms ,

And cold mushrooms ;For wine we fol low Bacchus through the earth ;G reat God of breathle ss cups and ch irping m irth !Come hither , lady fa ir , and joined be

To our mad m instre lsy !Over wide streams and mounta ins grea t we went ,

And , save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent ,Onward the tiger and the leopard pants ,With As ian e lephants

(2 1 2 3) The draft reads str eahs for r il ls and dainty for enoug h.

(21 43I n the dra ft

,For anyp ear ly bite .

(221 An add it iona l l ine com es be tween 22 1 and 222 in the draft

-We fo l low Bacchus from a far country.(225) The d raft reads beside for befor e.

(232) The draft reads j b r est mea t for hernel tr ee.236) The draft has endless for chirping .

Onward these myriads—wi th song and dance ,With zebras s triped , and s leek Arabians’ prance ,Web - footed a ll igators , crocodiles ,Bearing upon the ir scaly backs , in files ,Plump infant laughers m im icking the coi lOf seamen , and s tout ga lley- rowers’ toilWith toying oars and s i lken sa i ls they gl ide ,

Nor care for wind and tide .

Mounted on panthers’ furs and l ions’manes ,From rear to van they scour about the plains ;A three days’ journey in a moment doneAnd always , a t the r is ing of the sun ,

About the wi lds they hunt wi th spear and horn,

On spleenful uni corn .

I saw Os irian Egypt knee l adownBefore the vine-wreath crown !

I saw parch’d Abyss inia rouse and s ingTo the s i lver cymbals’ ring !I saw the whelm ing vintage hotly pierceOld Tartary the fierce !

The kings of Inde the ir jewe l—sceptres va i l ,And from the ir treasure s sca tter pearled hail ;Grea t Brahma from his mystic heaven groans ,

And all his pries thood moans ;Before young Bacchus’ eye-wink turn ing pa le .

Into these regions came I following him ,

S ick hearted , weary so I took a whimTo s tray away into these fores ts drear

Alone , without a peerAnd I have told thee a ll thou mayes t hear .

Young stranger !I’ve been a range r

(24 7 ) This l ine reads a s fol lows in the d ra ftArch infant c rews in m im ic of the co i l

254 ) The draft reads a lway without the s .

l263) The d raft reads j ewe l'

d sceptr es.

(267 ) At this point the fol lowing l ine is cance l led in the draftAll c ity ga te s were opened to his pomp .

[BOOK I V.

(27 2) The bibl ica l d issyllabic form mayest is c lea rly used by de l ibe rateonce , for the l ine origina l ly stood thus in the d ra ft

And I have to ld thee al l tha t thou cans t hear.

1 9 2 END YM I OIV. [BOOK xv.

D o gently murder half my soul , and IShal l fee l the other half so utterlyI’m g iddy at that cheek so fa ir and smooth ;0 let i t blush so ever ! let i t sootheMy madness ! let i t mantle rosy-warmWith the tinge of love , panting in safe alarm .

This cannot be thy hand , and ye t i t is ;And this is sure th ine other softl ing thisTh ine own fa ir bosom , and I am so near !

Wilt fal l asleep ? 0 le t me sip that tear !And whisper one swee t word that I may knowThis is this world sweet dewy blossom Woe !

Woe Woe to tha t Endymion Wher e is he ?Even these words went echoing dismallyThrough the wide forest a mos t fearful tone ,Like one repent ing in his latest moan ;

And while i t died away a shade pass’d by ,As of a thunder cloud . When arrows flyThrough the thick branches , poor r ing-doves s leek forthThe ir tim id necks and tremble so these bothLeant to each other trembling , and sat so

Wa i t ing for some destruction when 10,

Foot-fea ther’d Mercury appear’d sublimeBeyond the ta ll tree tops ; and in less t imeThan shoots the s lanted ha il -storm . down he droptTowards the ground ; but res ted not , nor s toptOne moment from his home : only the swardH e with his wand light touch’d , and heavenwardSwifter than s ight was gone— even beforeThe teeming earth a sudden witness boreOf his swift mag ic . D iving swans appear

Above the crystal circlings white and clear ;And catch the cheated eye in wide surprise ,H ow they can dive in s ight and unseen rise(31 0- 1 6) The draft reads thus a t this point

That oh how beautifu l - how giddy smooth !B lush so for ever ! le t those g lances sootheMy madness for did I no mercy spyD ea r lady I shou ld shudder and then die .

This cannot b e thy hand— and ye t it is

And this thine other soft l ing and is th isThine own fa ir bosom ,

and am I so near?

(34 1 ) I n the first ed ition wild surprise ; and no change is made here in the cor

rected copy ; b ut wide , the word in both the manuscripts , is so fa r more characteristic tha t wild may be concluded to have passed through an oversight.

BOOK 1 v.] END YM I ON . 1 9 3

So from the turf outsprang two steeds jet-black .Each with large dark blue wings upon his back .

The youth of Caria plac’d the lovely dameOn one ,

and fe lt h imse lf in spleen to tame

The other’s fierceness . Through the air they flew,

H igh as the eagles . Like two drops of dewExhal

’d to Phoebus’ l ips , away they are gone ,

Far from the earth away— unseen , a lone ,

Among cool clouds and winds , but tha t the free ,The buoyant l ife of song can floating beAbove the ir heads , and fol low them untir

’d .

Muse of my nat ive land , am I inspir’d ?This is the giddy air , and I mus t

_

spreadWide pinions to keep here ; nor do I dreadOr he ight , or depth , or width , or any chancePrec ipitous : I have beneath my glanceThose towering horses and their mournful fre ight .Could I thus sa il , and see , and thus awa i tFearless for power of thought , without thine aid ?

There is a s leepy dusk , an odorous shadeFrom some approaching wonder , and beholdThose winged steeds , with snort ing nostrils boldSnuff at its fa int e xtreme , and seem to tire ,Dying to embers from the ir native fireThere curl

’d a purple m ist around them ; soon,

I t seem’d as when around the pale new moon

Sad Zephyr droops the clouds l ike weeping wil low’Twas S leep slow journeying wi th head on p i l low.

For the firs t t ime , s ince he came nigh dead bornFrom the old womb of n ight , his cave forlornH ad he left more forlorn ; for the firs t time ,

H e fe lt a loof the day and morning’s prime

Because into his depth CimmerianThere came a dream , showing how a young man ,

(343) The draft reads coa l blach.

(349 ) I n the m anuscript , they’r e for they a r e . Compa re D onne

,I st Satyre ,

At last his love he in a window sp ie s ,And ,

l ike l igh t dew exha led ,he flings from me .

(366) I n the draft

S eem ing but embers to the ir former fire .

367- 8) The draft reads comes for cur l

’

d and ha lf moon for new moon.

37 0) I n the draft, voyag ing ,not j ourneying .

I 9 4 END YM I ON . [BOOK Iv .

Ere a lean bat could plump its wintery skin,

Would a t high Jove’s empyrea l foots tool winAn immortal i ty , and how espouseJove’s daughter , and be reckon

’d of his hous e .

Now was he s lumbering towards heaven’s ga te ,

Tha t he m ight at the threshold one hour wa i tTo hear the marriage me lodies , and thenS ink downward to his dusky cave aga in .

H is l itter of smooth sem i lucent m ist ,D iversely ting’d with rose and ame thys t ,Puz 'zled those eyes that for the centre sought ;And scarcely for one moment could be caughtH is s luggish form repos ing mot ionless .

Those two on winged s teeds , with all the stressOf vis ion search

’d for him , as one would look

Athwart the sa llows of a r iver nookTo ca tch a glance a t s i lver throa ted eels ,Or from old Skiddaw’

s top , when fog conceals

His rugged forehead in a mantle pa le ,

With an eye-

guess towards some pleasant valeD escry a favouri te ham le t fa int and far .

These raven horses , though they foster’d are

Of earth’s splene tic fire , dul ly dropThe ir ful l-ve in’d ears , nos tri ls blood wide , and stop ;Upon the spirit less m is t have they outspreadThe ir ample feathers , are in s lumber dead ,And on those pinions , leve l in mid air ,Endym ion s leepeth and the lady fa ir .

S lowly they sa i l , s lowly as icy is leUpon a ca lm sea drift ing : and meanwhileThe mournful wanderer dreams . Behold ! he walksOn heaven’s pavement ; brotherly he ta lksTo div ine powers : from his hand ful l fa inJuno’s proud birds are pecking pearly gra inH e tries the nerve of Phoebus’ golden bow,

And asketh where the golden apples grow

(384 ) The draft g ives th is l ine thusBe take him downwa rd to his cave again.

(385) I n the draft ,pa l e for smooth.

387—8) The d raft reads P uz z l ed the eyes and sca r cely one shor t moment .

39 4 ) The dra ft ha sdfr ont instead of top.

(40 1 ) The draft rea 5 air for mist ; a nd in the finished m anus cript the word wasfirst wr itten mists .

END YM ] ON . [BOOK N .

For soar ing too audacious in the sun,

When tha t same treacherous wax began to run ,Fel t not more tongue - t ied than Endym ion .

H is heart leapt up as to its rightful throne ,

To that fa ir shadow’d pass ion puls’d its wayAh , what perple x ity ! Ah , wel l a day !So fond , so beauteous was his bed- fe llow,

H e could not he lp but kiss her : then he grewAwhile forgetful of all beauty saveYoung Phoebe’s , golden ba ir’d ; and so

’

gan craveForg iveness : yet he turn’

d once more to lookAt the swee t s leeper, — al l his soul was shook ,She press

’d his hand in s lumber ; so once more

H e could not he lp but kiss her and adore .

At this the shadow wept , melting away .

The La tmian s tarted up : Bright goddess , s tay !Search my most hidden breast ! By truth’s own tongue ,I have no daedale heart : why is i t wrungTo despera t ion ? I s there nought for me ,

Upon the bourn of bliss , but m isery ? ”

These words awoke the stranger of dark tressesH er dawning love - look rapt Endymion blessesWith ’haviour soft . S leep yawn’

d from undernea th .

Thou swan of Ganges , le t us no more brea theThis murky phantasm thou contented seem’

s t

(442- 4 ) The draft reads as fo l lowsBe cause in sunshine treacherous wax wou ld me lt

,

Even a t the fa ta l me l ting the reof, fe ltNot more tongue

-t ied than did Endym ion.

I n the finished manuscript the read ing is that of the text ; and l ine 443 clearly beginswith When in the first ed ition it beg ins with Wher e ; but , though no a lteration ishere made in the corrected copy , the manuscript, supported as it is by the sense of

the passage as g iven in the dra ft , must rule the text.(44 9 ) This l ine reads thus in the draft

H e could not he lp but kiss— then did heb ut the finished manus cript g ives the read ing o f the text .

455) The draft reads hiss , hiss and ador e .

458) Cance l led read ing of the finished m anuscrip t, most inmost for most hidden .

461 ) I n the first ed ition,bourne , with a fina l e ; but the manuscript reads bour n .

462-

3) The draft reads lady for str ang er and love-g lance fo r love-look.

464 ) The contr action ’

haviour ,itwill b e remembered , is of common E l izabe thanuse . Compare Romeo and 7 u liet , Ac t I I , Scene 1 1 , l ines 9 8—9

I n truth,fa ir Montague , I am too fond ,

And there fore thou m ayst think my ’haviour l ight .(465) I n the draft , Thou wander ing fair one.

BOOK 1 v.] END YM I ON . I 9 7

Pillow’d in lovely idleness , nor dream’

st

What horrors may discomfort thee and me .

Ah , shouldst thou die from my heart- treachery !Yet did she merely weep— her gentle soulH ath no revenge in i t : as i t is wholeI n tenderness , would I were whole in love !Can I pri ze thee , fa ir ma id , all pri ce above ,Even when I feel as true as innocence ?I do , I do . Wha t is this soul then ? WhenceCame i t ? I t does not seem my own, and IH ave no se lf-pass ion or ident ity .

Some fearful end mus t be : where , where is it ?By Nemes is , I see my spiri t fli tAlone about the dark Forg ive me , sweetSha ll we away ? H e rous

’d the s teeds : they beat

The ir wings chiva lrous into the clear air,Leaving old S leep within his vapoury lair .

The good-night blush of eve was waning s low,

And Vesper , r isen s tar , began to throeI n the dusk heavens s i lverly , when theyThus sprang direct towards the Galaxy .

Nor did speed hinder converse soft and s trangeE terna l oaths and vows they interchange ,I n such wise , in such temper, so a loofUp in the winds , beneath a starry roof,So witless of the ir doom , tha t veri lyTis we l l nigh pas t man

’s search the ir hearts to see ;Whether they wept , or laugh’

d , or griev’d , or toy’d

Mos t l ike with joy gone mad , wi th sorrow cloy’d .

Full fac ing the ir swift fl ight , from ebon s treak ,(4 83) The draft reads

Leaving old S leep to sa i l in vapoury la ir.(484- 7 ) These four l ine s stand thus in the draft

The good-n igh t hush of eve was waning s low

,

And Vespe r ’

s t im id pulse began to throeI n the dusk heavens s i lve rly

,when they

Thus Sprang d irect up to the Ga laxy.The finished manuscript corre sponds with the text ; but in the printed book theword silvery for silver ly s l ipped in ,

and so the passage ha s been printed ever s ince.There can b e no doubt tha t silver ly wa s the word intended .

( 49 2) The draft reads witless of a l l thing s.

(4 9 5) I n the draft there a re two cance lled read ings , Until and H aply, in

place of M ost tube ; and woe s tands in the p lace of j oy.

I 9 8 END YM I ON [BOOK iv.

The moon put forth a l i ttle diamond peak ,No bigger than an unobserved s tar,Or tiny point of fa iry scymetar ;Bright s igna l that she only s toop’d to tieH er s i lver sandals , ere del i cious lyShe bow

’d into the heavens her timi d head .

S lowly she rose , as though she would have fled,While to his lady meek the Carian turn’

d ,

To mark if her dark eyes had yet discern’d

This beauty in its birth D espa ir ! despa ir !H e saw her body fading gaunt and spare

I n the cold moonshine . S traight he s eiz’d her wrist ;I t mel ted from his grasp : her hand he kiss’d ,

And , horror ! kiss’d his own he was a lone .

H er s teed a l i ttle higher soar’d , and thenD ropt hawkwise to the earth .

There l ies a den,

Beyond the seem ing confines of the space

Made for the soul to wander in and traceI ts own existence , of remotes t glooms .

D ark regions are around it , where the tombsOf buried griefs the spiri t sees , but scarceOne hour doth l inger weeping , for the pierceOf new-born woe i t fee ls more inly smartAnd in these regions many a venom

’d dart

At random fl ies ; they are the proper homeOf every i ll : the man is yet to comeWho hath not journeyed in this na tive hell .But few have ever fel t how calm and we l l

(505- 1 0) I n the draft, this passage stands th '

us

To mark ifher dark eyes s lept o r discern’

dSuch beau ty be ing born D espa ir ! despa ir !H e saw her body fa ded gaunt and spare

I n the co ld moonshine. S tra ight her wrist he se izedI t me l ted from his grasp his lips were teazedTo madness for his

I n the finished manuscript there is no var iation from the printed text to account

for the loss of a rhyme .

(51 3) I n the draft this l ine stands thusOfm isery beyond the seeming confines of the space

(51 8) The draft reads ling er s for doth ling er , so as to force the word hour intoservice as a d issyllable .

(520) I n the d ra ft , a r andom dar t.

(522) The draft reads that soul for the man.

200 END YM I ON‘

. [BOOK 1v.

Of trumpets at clear parley from the eas tCould rouse from that fine rel ish , tha t high feast .They s tung the feather’d horse : wi th fierce a larmH e flapp

’d towards the sound . Alas , no charm

Could lift Endym ion’s head , or he had view

’d

A skyey mask , a pinion’d multi tude ,

And s i lvery was its pass ing : voi ces sweetWarbling the while as if to lul l and gree tThe wanderer in his path . Thus warbled they,While pas t the vis ion went in bright array .

Who , who from D ian’s feas t would be away ?

For all the golden bowers of the dayAre empty left ? Who , who away would beFrom Cynthia’s wedding and fest ivi ty ?Not H esperus : lo upon his s ilver wingsH e leans away for h ighes t heaven and s ings ,Snapping his luc id fingers merrilyAh , Zephyrus ! art here , and Flora too !Ye tende r bibbe rs of the rain and dew,

Young playma tes of the rose and dafl'

odil ,Be careful , ere ye enter in , to fil l

Your baskets highWith fenne l green , and ba lm , and goldenpines ,Savory , latter-m int , and columbines ,Cool pars ley , bas i l sweet , and sunny thyme ;

(554 ) At this point the d raft reads a s fo llowshim from tha t

from'

Twas like a g ift of Prophe cy a lertThe fea ther

’

d horse he snorted wi th a larmAnd towa rds it fl app

’

d away Alas no charm .

(563) The draft reads thus :Who

,who would absent b e from D ian’

s feast

For a l l the olden chambe rs of the Eas tAre em ty eft Who

,who awaywou ld b e

From ynthia’

s wedd ing and fe st 1v1 ty ?

Who ,who would b e

(569 ) The draft has two add it iona l l ines a fter this one ,

H e stay beh ind he glad of lazy p lea PNot he ! not he !

(57 3) The d raft reads this l ine thusM ind ere ye ente r in to oppre ss and fi l l

(57 6—7 ) The word ear ly is cance l led in the finished manus cript beforemint ; and l ine 57 7 reads in the d ra ft

Cool pars ley, dripp ing cre sses , sunny thyme .

Could rouse inward feast and ye t to hear ‘t

BOOK 1 v.] END YM I OI V. 20 1

Yea , every flower and leaf of every cl ime ,All gathe r

’

d in the dewy morning : hie

Away ! fly , fly !Crys tall ine brother of the be lt of heaven ,

Aquarius to whom king Jove has givenTwo l iquid pulse s treams ’

s tead of feather’d wings ,Two fan- l ike founta ins ,

thine illuminingsFor D ian play

D issolve the frozen purity of air ;Let thy white shoulders s ilvery and bareShow cold through watery pinions ; make more brightThe S tar-Queen

’s crescent on her marr iage night

H aste , has te away !Castor has tam’

d the plane t Lion , see!

And of the Bear has Pollux masteryA third is in the race ! who is the third ,Speeding away swift as the eagle bird ?

The ramping CentaurThe Lion’

s mane’s on end : the Bear how fierce !

The Centaur’s arrow ready seems to pierce

Some enemy : far forth his bow is bentInto the blue of heaven . H e

’l l be shent ,Pa le unrelentor ,

When he shall hear the wedding lutes a playing .

Andromeda ! swee t woman ! why delayingSo t im idly among the s tars : come hither !Join this brigh t throng , and nimbly fol low whither

They all are going .

D anae’s Son , before Jove newly bow’

d ,

H as wept for thee , ca l l ing to Jove a loud .

Thee , gentle lady , did he disenthra lYe sha l l for ever l ive and love , for all

Thy tears are flowing .

By D aphne’s fright , behold ApolloMore

Endym ion heard not : down his s teed him bore ,

Prone to the green head of a m isty hill .(584 ) This wa s or ig ina lly a short l ine cons isting of the words Thine il lumining s

a lone . The who le stanza,l ines 58 1 to 590 ,

was sent by Keats to his friend Ba i lyfor his vote

, pro or con,

”

in a le tte r da ted th e 22nd of November 1 8 1 7 .

589 ) The d raft reads N ig ht-Queen

’

s for S tar-Queen’

s .

(593) The draft reads Ay thr ee are 272 the r ace !

(607 - 8) The draft readsca l l ing to Jove a loud

For thee thee gentle did he d isenthra l l.

202 END YM I OM [BOOK I V.

H is first touch of the earth went nigh to kill .Alas ! ” sa id he , were I but a lways borne

Through dangerous winds , had but my foots teps wornA path in hell , for ever would I blessH orrors which nourish an uneas inessFor my own sullen conquering : to him

Who l ives beyond earth’s boundary , grief is dim ,

Sorrow is but a shadow : now I seeThe grass ; I fee l the sol id ground - Ah , me !

I t is thy voice — divinest Where ?— who ? who

Left thee so quie t on this bed of dew?

Behold upon this happy earth we are ;Le t us aye love each other ; le t us fareOn forest- fruits , and never , never goAmong the abodes of mortals he re below,

Or be by phantoms dup’d . O des tiny !

Into a labyrinth now my soul would fly ,But wi th thy beauty wi ll I deaden i t .Where didst thou mel t to ? By thee wi l l I sitFor ever : let our fate s top here a kidI on th is spot wi l l ofler : Pan wi l l bidUs l ive in peace , in love and peace amongHis forest wi ldernesses . I have clungTo nothing ,

lov’d a nothing , noth ing seen

Or fel t but a great dream ! 0 I have beenPresumptuous aga ins t love , aga inst the sky,Aga ins t a ll elements , aga inst the tieOf morta ls each to each , aga ins t the blooms

Of flowers , rush of rivers , and the tombs

(622) I n the dra ft, this l ine isThe rea l grass , the sol id ground—Ah ,

m e !

but in the finished manuscript it is an AlexandrineThe rea l grass ; I fee l the so l id ground Ah ,

me !

The read ing of the text is tha t of the firs t ed it ion.

(624 ) The draft has safe upon for quiet on .

(629—30) This coup le t stands thus in the d raftOr b e by phantom s duped . Alas ! a las !I nto a labyrinth now my sou l would pass

(632) The finished manuscript and the first edi tion read too for to ; but as the

quest ion is repeated in l ine 668 in the words Whither didst melt , there can be no

poss ib le doubt as to the r ight read ing.

(64 1-

3) The draft reads

Ofmorta ls to each o ther, aga inst the blooms

Of roses,rush of rive rs , and the tombs

Qf heroes gone ! Aga inst its proper

204 END YM I GI V. [BOOK I V.

Of some steep mossy hi ll , where ivy dunWould hide us up , a lthough spring leaves were none ;And where dark yew trees , as we rustle through ,Will drop the ir scarle t berry cups of dew?

O thou wouldst joy to l i ve in such a place ;D usk for our loves , yet l ight enough to graceThose gentle l imbs on mossy bed reclin

’d :

For by one step the blue sky shouldst thou find ,

And by another , in deep de l l below,

See , through the trees , a l i ttle river goAll in its mid-day gold and gl immering .

H oney from out the gnarled hive I ’l l bring ,

And apples , wan with swee tness , ga ther thee ,Cresses tha t grow where no man may them see ,

And sorre l untorn by the dew-claw’d s tag

P ipes wi ll I fashion of the syrinx flag ,

That thou mayst a lways know wh ither I roam ,

When i t shall please thee in our quiet homeTo l is ten and think of love . S til l let me speak ;S t i l l let me dive into the joy I seek ,For ye t the past doth prison me . The ri ll ,Thou haply mays t del ight in , wil l I fil lWith fa iry fishes from the mounta in tarn ,

And thou shalt feed them from the squirrel’s barn.

I ts bottom wi l l I s trew with amber she l ls ,And pebble s blue from deep enchanted we lls .

I ts s ides I’ll plant wi th dew-sweet eglantine ,And honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine .

I wil l entice this crys tal ri ll to traceLove’s s ilver name upon the meadow’

s face .

(680) I n the draft ,S ee , through the trees , a rive r a t its flow

682) The draft reads nest for hive .

685) The dew-c law is the sma l l process a t the back of the leg above the foo t.687 ) The dra ft reads That than by ear mayst hnaw .

69 1 ) I n the d raft , For yet thepa st doth weigh me down.

69 3-

4 ) The d ra ft re ads ta rns and ba r ns.

69 7 ) I n the finished manuscr ipt , I plant , not I’

l l p lant.69 9 ) Cance l led read ings of the manuscript ,

{333j I wi l l make this crysta l ril le t trace .

(7 00) After this l ine there is a couple t in the finished manuscript, which does notappear in the printed book ,

And by it sha lt thou sit and s ing , hey nonny !While doves coo to thee for a litt le honey.

BOOK 1 v.] END YM I ON . 205

I’l l knee! to Vesta , for a flame of fire ;And to god Phoebus , for a golden lyre ;To Empress D ian, for a hunting spear ;To Vesper, for a taper s i lver-clear,That I may see thy beauty through the night ;To Flora , and a nightinga le shal l l ightTame on thy finger ; to the River-gods ,And they shal l bring thee taper fishing-rodsOf gold , and l ines of Na iads’ long bright tress .

H eaven shie ld thee for thine utter lovel iness !Thy mossy footstool shal l the a ltar be’Fore which I’l l bend , bending , dear love , to theeThose l ips shall be my D elphos , and shal l speakLaws to my foots teps , colour to my cheek ,Trembling or stedfas tness to this same voi ce ,And of three swee test pleasurings the choiceAnd that affectionate l ight , those diamond th ings ,Those eyes , those pass ions , those supreme pearl sprin’

gs ,Shal l be my grief, or twinkle me to pleasure .

Say, is not bliss wi thin our perfect se isure ?0 that I could not doubt ! ”

The mounta ineerThus strove by fancies va in and crude to clearHis briar’d path to some tranquil l ity .

I t gave bright gladness to his lady’s eye ,And yet the tears she wept were tears of sorrow ;Answering thus , jus t as the golden morrow

Beam’

d upward from the val l ies of the east0 that the flutter of this heart had ceas

’d ,

Or the sweet name of love had pass’d away .

(7 09 ) The draft reads with for and.

(7 1 6) This l ine orig ina l ly began with the words'

And the most velvet, wh ich a re

struck out in the finished manuscript. Woodhouse notes , doubtless from the draft,

the l ineAnd the most ve lvet peaches to my cho ice .

(7 20) The draft reads I s not,then

, bliss , &c .

I n the first ed it ion the re is a note of interrogat ion after doubt ; b ut a note

of exc lamat ion stands there both in the manuscript and in the corrected copy.(7 23) The draft reads The for H is.

(7 24—5) At the end of the book conta ining the draft,Kea ts wrote

,apparently as

a. memorandum for this pas sage , the two l inesThere wa s rejoic ing in his Lady’s eye

And ye t the tears she wept were tears of sorrow.

(7 26) The d ra ft has what time for j ust as.

[BOOK xv.

Young feather’d tyrant by a swift decay

Wilt thou devote this body to the earthAnd I do think tha t a t my very birthI lisp’d thy bloom ing titles inwardly ;For at the firs t , firs t dawn and thought of thee ,With upl ift hands I blest the s tars of heaven.

Art thou not crue l ? Ever have I strivenTo think thee kind , but ah , i t wil l not do !When yet a child , I heard that kisses drewFa vour from thee , and so I kisses gaveTo the void air , bidding them find out loveBut when I came to fee l how far aboveAll fancy , pride , and fickle ma idenhood ,

All ea rthly pleasure , a ll imagin’d good ,

Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss ,Even then, tha t moment , a t the thought of this ,Fa inting I fe l l into a bed of flowers ,And languish

’d there three days . Ye milder powers ,Am I not crue lly wrong’d ? Believe , be l ieveMe , dear Endym ion , were I to weaveWith my own fancies garlands of sweet l ife ,Thou shoulds t be one of a ll . Ah , bi tter s trifeI may not be thy love : I am forbiddenIndeed I am —thwarted , affrighted , chidden ,

By things I trembled a t , and gorgon wrath .

Twi ce has t thou ask’

d whither I went : henceforthAsk me no more ! I may not utter i t ,Nor may I be thy love . We m ight comm i tOurselves at once to vengeance ; we m ight die ;We m ight embrace and die : voluptuous thought !Enlarge not to my hunger, or I ’m caughtI n tramme ls of perverse del iciousness .

(7 34 ) The dra ft reads thought and dawn instead of dawn and thoug ht .

(7 39 ) I n the finished manuscript , this l ine ends wi th so [ g a ve g ave , as if oneve we re an accidenta l repe tition instead of the r ight word ; and indeed the wordgases is inse rted in penci l in the marg in a s a substi tute for the firs t g ave . Neverthe le ss the firs t ed i tion reads so [ g ave and g ave ; b ut the read ing of the text issupp l ied in the corrected copy. I t is surpris ing tha t Kea ts did not d iscover therhyme lessness of this l ine and of l ine 7 58, or the bad rhyme of l ines 7 54 and 55.

(7 43) Cance l led read ing of the manuscript, Was for the init ia l A ll in this ine .

(7 48) Cance l led read ing of the manuscript , serv’

d for wr ong'

d.

(7 49 -51 ) The draft has the fo l lowing var 1a tion :

We re I to weaveMy own imag ina t ions to swee t l ifeThou would ’

st o’

e rtop them all.

(7 54) I n the draft, tr emble , not tr embled.

208 END YM I ON . [BOOK iv.

But not ta’en out . Why , there was not a s lopeUp which he had not fear

’d the ante lope ;

And not a tree , benea th whose rooty shadeH e had not wi th his tamed leopards play’dNor could an arrow light , or javel in ,

Fly in the air where his had never beenAnd yet he knew i t not .

0 treachery !Why does his lady smile , pleas ing her eyeWi th a ll his sorrowing ? H e sees her not .

But who so s tares on him ? H is s is ter sure !Peona of the woods — Can she endureImposs ible how dearly they embrace !H is lady sm i les ; de l ight is in her face ;I t is no treachery .

D ear brother mineEndym ion , weep not so ! Why shoulds t thou pineWhen a ll grea t La tmus so exa lt wi ll be ?Thank the great gods , and look not bitterly ;And speak not one pa le word , and s igh no more .

Sure I wil l not bel ieve thou has t such s toreOf grief, to las t thee to my kiss aga in.

Thou sure ly canst not bear a m ind in pa in,

Come hand in hand with one so beautiful .Be happy both of you ! for I wi l l pul l

(7 9 1—2) The d raft reads ef aced for ta’

en out and chaced for fear’

d,which is o f

cours e used m its o ld sense o f fr ightened.

(7 9 4 ) Woodhouse note s , presumably from the d ra ft,the va ria tion j essied fa lcons

for tamed leopa rds.

(7 9 9 ) The finished manuscript does not he lp us to the m iss ing rhyme ; and

Woodhouse notes nothing from the d raft he re ,though aga inst l ine 801 he records

wha t is doubtle ss a varia tion from the draft,P eana hind and fair .

(805) Woodhouse notes the variat ion D ear Endy weep ,&c . ,which I should not

l ike to accept l ite ra l ly without see ing the origina l .(806) H ere again a s in Book I I I , l ine 44 9 , the firs t ed ition reads La tmos though

the manuscript reads Latmus.

(808) Another varia t ion noted byWoodhous e is nor sig h once more for and sigh

no mor e.

(8 1 1 ) At this po int Woodhouse g ives the fo l lowing pas sage ,which is doubtless

from the d ra ft

Were this swee t damse l l ike a long neck’

d crane

Or an o ld rocking barn owl ha lf as leepSome reason wou ld there b e for thee to keepSo du l l-eyed—b ut thou kh owst she ’s beaut ifu lYes , Yes ! and thou dost love her we l l— I

’l l pul l

BOOK 1v.] END I’M ] ON . 209

The flowers of autumn for your coronals .

Pan’s holy priest for young Endym ion cal ls ;

And when he is restor’

d , thou , fairest dame ,

Shal t be our queen . Now, is i t not a shameTo see ye thus , not very , very sad ?Perhaps ye are too happy to be glad :O feel as if i t were a common day ;Free-voic

’

d as one who never was away .

No tongue shal l ask , whence come ye ? but ye shal lBe gods of your own res t imperial .Not even I , for one whole month , wil l pryInto the hours tha t have pass’d us by ,S ince in my arbour I did s ing to thee .

O H ermes on this very night wi l l beA hymning up to Cynth ia , queen of l ight ;For the soothsayers old saw yes ternightGood vis ions in the air , whence wi l l befal ,As say these sages , health perpetua lTo shepherds and the ir flocks ; and furthermore ,I n D ian’s face they read the gentle loreTherefore for her these vesper-carols are .

Our friends wi l l all be there from nigh and far .

Many upon thy dea th have ditties made ;And many , even now, the ir foreheads shadeWith cypress , on a day of sacrifice .

New s inging for our ma ids shal t thou devise ,And pluck the sorrow from our huntsmen

’s brows!

Te ll me , my lady-queen , how to espouse

This wayward brother to his rightful joys !H is eyes are on t hee bent , as thou didst poiseH is fate most goddess- l ike . H elp me , I pray ,To lure Endym ion , dear brother , sayWhat a i ls thee ? ” H e could bear no more , and so

(8 1 5) Woodhouse notes the variation Gr ea t Pan'

s highpr iest .(8 1 6) Woodhouse notes the var ia tion

This Shepherd Prince restor’d ,thou ,

fa irest dame

(8 1 9 ) Woodhouse notes the fo l lowing two variants of this l ine , one e xpress lyfrom the draft and the o the r presum ably from the same source

( 1 ) Perhaps ye fee l too much joy— too overglad(2) Perhaps ye a re too g lad ,

too ove rg lad .

(825) The draft reads I nto the long hour s , so as to avoid the necess ity for scan‘

ning hour s a s a d is syl lable .

(827 ) I n the dra ft thusVVhy ! hark ye ! on this ve ry eve wi l l b e.

(840) The draft has cypr ess for sor r ow.

2 1 0 EN D YM I OZV. [BOOK iv.

Bent his soul fiercely l ike a spiri tual bow,

And twang’d i t inwardly , and ca lmly sa id

I would have thee my only friend , sweet maid !My only vis i tor not ignorant though ,That those deceptions which for pleasure go’Mong men , are pleasures real as real may be

But there are higher ones I may not see ,

I f impious ly an earthly realm I take .

S ince I saw thee , I have bee n wide awakeN ight after night , and day by day, untilOf the empyrean I have drunk my fill .Let i t content thee , S ister , see ing meMore happy than be t ides morta l i ty.

A hermi t young , I ’l l l ive in mossy ca ve ,Where thou alone sha lt come to me , and laveThy spiri t in the wonders I shal l tel l .Through me the shepherd realm shal l prospe r well ;For to thy tongue wil l I al l health confide .

And , for my sake , let this young ma id abideWith thee as a dear s ister. Thou alone ,Peona , mays t return to me . I ownThis may sound s trangely : but when, deares t gir l ,Thou sees t i t for my happiness , no pearlWill trespass down those cheeks . Companion fair !Wilt be content to dwel l wi th her, to shareThis s is ter’s love wi th me ? ” Like one resign

’d

And bent by c ircumstance , and thereby blindI n self- comm i tment , thus that meek unknownAye , but a buzzing by my ears has flown,

Of jubi lee to D ian — truth I heard ?We ll then , I see there is no l ittle bird ,Tender soever , but is Jove’s own care .

853) I n the draft , But I ha ve &c.

862) Woodhouse notes the variation wil l for sha l l .866) Woodhouse notes the va r iat ion With thee ev’n as a sister .

87 4 ) Woodhouse notes the va ria tion‘

mild for meeh.

87 6)This lme ends with a note of exc lama tion in the firs t ed ition, bu t with a

note 0 inte rroga tion both in the finished manus cript and in the corrected copy.Woodhouse does not c i te the d ra ft on this po int.(87 7—8 ) A curious importa t ion from H ebrew theology into a subject from G reek

mythology. Compare S t. Ma tthew, X , 29 : Are not two sparrows so ld for a far

thmg? and one of them sha l l no t fa l l on the ground without your Father." Or, asmade fami l iar to our chi ldhood by the popula r hymn-wright,

A l i ttle sparrow cannot fa l l ,Unnot 1 ced

,Lord

,by Thee .

2 I 2 E I VD VM I ON . [BOOK 1v.

H is hands aga ins t his face , and then did res tH is head upon a mossy h illock green,

And so rema in’d as he a corpse had beenAll the long day ; save when he scantly l iftedH is eyes abroad , to see how shadows shiftedWith the s low move of t ime ,— s luggish and wearyUnt il the poplar tops , in journey drea ry ,H ad reach

’

d the river’s brim . Then up he rose ,

And s lowly as tha t very ri ver flows ,Wa lk’d towards the temple g rove wi th this lamentWhy such a golden eve ? The bree ze is sentCareful and soft , that not a leaf may fallBefore the serene father of them all

Bows down his summer head be low the wes t .Now am I of breath , speech , and spe ed possest ,But at the setting I must bid adieuTo her for the las t time . N ight wi l l s trewOn the clamp grass myriads of l ingering leaves ,And wi th them shal l I die ; nor much i t grievesTo die , when summer dies on the cold sward .

Why , I have been a butterfly , a lordOf flowers , garlands , love -knots , s i lly pos ies ,G roves , meadows , me lodies , and arbour roses ;My kingdom’

s a t its dea th , and just i t isThat I should die with i t : so in all thisWe m isca ll grief, bale , sorrow, heartb reak , woe ,What is the re to pla in of By T itan’s foeI am but rightly serv’d .

” So saying , he

Tripp’d l igh tly on , in sort of deathful glee ;

Laughing at the clear s tream and sett ing sun ,

As though they jes ts had been : nor had he doneH is laugh a t na ture’s holy countenance ,(9 1 8—22) I n the draft this passage stands thus

H is hands upon a p i llow of green moss

And so rema ined without impa tient tossAll the day long— save when he scantly l iftedH is eyes abroad ,

to see how shadows shifted ,

And note the weary t ime . Ah wea ry, wearyThe word hands in l ine 9 1 8 was p robably a me re s l ip .

(9 26—7 ) Woodhouse gives , ~

presumab ly from the d raft,the coup le t ,

Wa lk’d towards the temp le grove lam ent ing OWhy such a golden eve The bre ezes

(933) This l ine , though poss ibly corrupt, stands thus in the finished manuscriptand m Kea ts

’

s ed ition. Woodhouse does not bring the draft in evidence.

(9 34) I n the manuscript , l ing’

ring for ling ering .

BOOK 1 v.] EN D YM I ON . 2 I 3

Until that grove appear’d , as if perchance ,

And then his tongue wi th sober seeml ihedGave utterance as he enter

’

d : H a ! I sa id ,King of the butterfl ies ; but by this gloom,

And by old Rhadamanthus’ tongue of doom ,

This dusk rel igion , pomp of sol i tude ,And the Promethean clay by th ief endued ,By old Sa turnus’ fore lock , by his headShook with eterna l pa lsy , I did wedMyse lf to th ings of l ight from infancy;And thus to be cas t out , thus lorn to die ,I s sure enough to make a morta l man

G row impious .

” So he inwardly beganOn things for which no wording can be found ;D eeper and deeper s inking , unti l drown’dBeyond the reach of mus ic : for the choirOf Cynthia he heard not , though rough briarNor muffl ing thicke t interpos’d to dul lThe vesper hymn , far swollen , soft and full ,Through the dark pi llars of those sylvan a isles .

H e saw not the two ma idens , nor the ir sm i les ,Wan as primroses gather’d at m idnightBy chilly finger’d spring .

, Unhappy Wight !Endym ion ! ” sa id Peona , we are here !What wouldst thou ere we a ll are la id on bier ?Then he embrac

’

d her , and his lady’s handPress

’d , saying S ister , I would have command ,

I f it were heaven’s wi l l , on our sad fate .

”

At which that dark-ey’d s tranger stood e lateAnd sa id , in a new voice , but swee t as love ,(9 49—50) I n the draft

Unti l he saw that grove , as if perchance ,And then his sou l was

(951 ) The inverted commas are c losed after H a / in the first ed ition ; b ut it isnot so in the m anuscript ; and the matter is set right in the corrected copy.

Cance l led read ing of the manuscript , And by Th is wa sy rejected to get rid of the repet ition of the word by.

The d ra ft reads And by old S a turn’

s sing le

The d raft readspr e lude for vesper .

I t is worth noting that , when wr iting out the fa ir copy , Keats made threea ttempts to spe l l this word aisles rightly, having first written it isles , then

ail es and lastly a is les.

(9 7 4-7 ) The draft reads as fol lowsH er brothe r kiss’d her, and his lady’s handSaying , Swee t s iste r I would have command

,

I f it were heaven '

s will , on our sad fate .

”

Then that dark- tressed s tranger stood

2 1 4 END YM I ON . [BOOK I v.

To Endymion’s amaz e : By Cupid’s dove ,And so thou shal t ! and by the l il ly truthOf my own breas t thou sha lt , be loved youth ! ”And as she spake , into her face there cameLight , as reflected from a s ilver flameH er long black ha ir swe ll’d ampler, in displayFul l golden ; in her eyes a brighter dayD awn

’d blue and ful l of love . Aye , he behe ld

Phoebe , his pass ion ! joyous she upheldH er lucid bow, continuing thus : D rear, drearH as our delaying been ; but fool ish fearWi thhe ld me firs t ; and then decrees of fate ;And then ’twas fi t tha t from t his mortal s tateThou shoulds t , my love , by some unlook

’d for change

Be spiritualiz’d . Peoma , we shal l range

These fores ts , and to thee they sa fe shal l beAs was thy cradle ; hither shal t thou fleeTo meet us many a time .

” Ne x t Cynthia brightPeona kiss

’d , and b less

’d with fa ir good nightH er brother kiss’d her too , and kne l t adownBefore his goddess , in a blissful swoon.

She gave he r fa ir hands to him , and behold , 1 000

Before three swiftest kisses he had told ,They vanish’

d far away Peona wentH ome through the gloomy wood in wonderment .

TH E END .

(9 84—6) I n the draft thusH er long black H air swe ll

’

d amp le r, whi le it turnedGo lden— and her e es of jet dawned forth a brighter dayBlue blue and of love .

(9 9 7—8) I n the finished manuscript the word hist occurs twice in these two linesins tea d of hiss

’

d as in the fi rst ed ition ; b ut bless’d is not s im i lar ly trans formed to

( 1 003) At the end of the draft Kea ts wrote Burford Bridge Nov. 28 . 1 8 1 7

The imprint of Endymion is as follows :

T. Mil ler , P r inter , N oble Str eet, Cheapside.

ADVERTISEMENT .

I F any be thought necessary for the appearance of the

unfinished poem of H YPER I ON , the publishers beg to s tate tha tthey a lone are respons ible , as i t was printed a t the ir parti cularreques t , and

' contrary to the'

wish of the author. The poem was

intended to have been of equal length wi th ENDYM I ON , but the

reception given to tha t work discouraged the author from pro

ceeding .

26, 1 820.

CONTENTS .

of S t . Agnes

Ode to a N ightingaleOde on a Grecian UrnOde to PsycheFancyOde

Lines on the Mermaid TavernRobin H oodTo AutumnOde on Me lancholyH yperion , a Fragment

[On the 1 2th of July 1 8 1 9 Keatswrote to Reyno lds that he had proceeded

pre tty we l l with Lamia ,’ finish ing the first part , which consists of about fourundred l ines.

” H e adds, I have great hopes of success , because I makeuse of my judgment more de l ibe ra te l y than I ye t have done ; but in case offai lure with the world, I sha l l find my content.

” Lord H oughton records , on

the authori ty of Charles Armitage Brown, that Lamia “ had been in handsome time,

”and tha t Keats wrote it “ with great care , after much study of

D ryden’s versification.

” I n August Keats wrote to Bai ly from Winch ester,mentioning the “ ha lf-finished ”

Lamia among recent work . On the 5th of

September 1 8 1 9 he wrote to Taylor that he had finished Lamia since finishing

“the tragedy (Otho the Gr ea t) . The manuscript of Lamia consists of

twenty-six leaves , foolscap fo l io, genera l l y written upon one side only. I t is

a careful l y wri tten manuscript, fina l l y revised for the press, and shows unmis

takeable evidence of having been used for printer’s copy . The extract fromBurton does not figure in it ; but there is the fo l lowing foot-note on page 1

The ground work of th is story wi l l be found in Burton’s

‘Anatomy of Me l

ancholy P a r t 3. Sect . 3.M emb. 1 st . Subs. ist.”

H . B. F

L A M I A .

PART I .

PON a time , before the faery broodsD rove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods ,Before King Oberon’s bright diadem ,

Sceptre , and mant le , clasp’d with dewy gem ,

Frighted away the D ryads and the FaunsFrom rushes green , and brakes , and cows l ip’d lawns ,The ever-smit ten H ermes empty leftH is golden throne , bent warm on amorous theftFrom high O lympus had he s tolen l ight ,On this s ide of Jove’s clouds , to escape the s ightOf his great summoner , and made retreatInto a forest on the shores of Crete .

For somewhere in tha t sacred island dwe l tA nymph , to whom a ll hoofed Satyrs knelt ;At whose white feet the languid Tri tons pouredPearls , while on land they wither’d and adored .

Fast by the springs where she to ba the was wont ,And in those meads where sometime she m ight haunt ,Were s trewn rich gifts , unknown to anyMuse ,

Though Faney’s' caske t were unlock

’d to choose .

Ah , what a world of love was at her fee t !So H ermes. thought , and a ce lestia l hea tBurnt from his winged heels to e ither ear,That from a whiteness , as the l i lly clear ,Blush

’d into roses’mid his golden hair ,Fa llen in jealous curls about his shoulders bare .

From vale to vale , from wood to wood , he flew,

Breathing upon the flowers his passion ‘

new,

And wound with many a river to its head ,To find where this swee t nymph prepar’d her secret

(4 ) The manuscript shows a cance l led read ing ,sanda ls for mantle.

( 1 5) Cance l led manuscrip t read ing ,And a t w/zose j eet .

z z z LAM I A . [PART 1 .

I n va in ; the swee t nymph m ight nowhere be found ,And so he rested , on the lone ly ground ,Pens ive , and full of pa inful jea lous iesOf the Wood-Gods , and even the very trees .

There as he s tood , he heard a mournful voice ,Such as once heard , in gent le heart , destroysAl l pa in but pity : thus the lone voice spakeWhen from th is wreathed tomb sha ll I awake !When move in a swee t body fi t for l i fe ,

And love , and pleasure , and the ruddy strifeOf hearts and l ips ! Ah , m iserable me ! ”

The God , dove -footed , gl ided s i lentlyRound bush and tree , soft-brushing , in his speed ,

The tal ler grasses and full-flowering weed ,Unti l he found a palpitat ing snake ,

Bright , and cirque- couchant in a dusky brake .

She was a gordian shape of dazzl ing hue ,Vermi l ion-spot ted , golden , green , and blue ;S trip

’d l ike a zebra , freckled l ike a pard ,

Ey’d l ike a peacock , and a ll crimson barr’d ;

And ful l of s i lver moons , that , as she breathed,Dissolv

’d , or brighter shone , or interwreathed

The ir lustres with the gloomier tapes triesSo ra inbow- s ided , touch’d wi th m iseries ,She seem

’d a t once , some penanc

’

d lady el f,Some demon’s m istress , or the demon’

s s el f.Upon her cres t she wore a wannish fireSprinkled with s tars , l ike Ariadne’s tiarH er head was serpent , but ah, bi tter-sweet !She had a woman

’s mouth with all its pearls comple te

And for her eyes : what could such eyes do thereBut weep , and weep, that they were born so fa ir ?As Proserpine sti ll weeps for her S i cil ian air.

H er throat was serpent , but the words she spakeCame , as through bubbling honey , for Love’s sake ,

(4 8) Origina l ly , Cerulean-spotted . H unt says of th is pa ssage (see Append ix)The adm ira t ion

, pity , and horror , to b e excited by humani ty in a brute shape ,

we re neve r pe rhaps ca lled upon by a grea te r m ixture o f beauty and de formity th anin the p icture of this crea ture . Our pi ty and susp ic ions a re begged by the firs tword : the p rofuse and .vita l beauties w1 th Wt h she is covered seem proportioned

to her m ise ry and natura l rights ; and lest we should lose s ight of them in this

gorgeousness , the‘woman

’

s mouth ’ fi lls us at once wi th shuddering and com

pass ion.

”

224 LAM I A , [PART 1 .

By the love-glances of unlove ly eyes ,Of Satyrs , Fanus , and blear’d S ilenus’ s ighs .

Pal e grew her immortal i ty , for woeOf a ll these love rs , and she grieved soI took compass ion on her , bade her s teepH er ha ir in weird syrops , tha t would keepH er lovel iness invis ible , yet freeTo wander as she loves , in l iberty .

Thou shal t behold her, H ermes , thou alone ,I f thou wi l t , as thou swearest , grant my boon ! ”

Then, once aga in , the charmed God beganAn oath , and through the serpent’s ears i t ranWarm , tremulous , devout , psal terian .

Ravish’d , she l ifted her Circean head ,Blush

’d a l ive damask , and swift- l isping sa id ,

I was a woman, le t me have once more

A woman’s shape , and cha rm ing as before .

I love a youth of Corinth —O the blissG i ve me my woman’

s form , and place me whe re he is .

S toop , H ermes , let me brea the upon thy brow,

And thou shal t see thy swee t nymph e ven now.

The God on half-shut fea thers sank serene ,

She b reath’d upon his

“

eyes , and swift was seen

Of both the guarded nymph near- smi l ing on the green.

I t was no dream ; or say a dream i t was ,Real a re the dreams of Gods , and smoothly passThe ir pleasures in a long immortal dream .

One warm , flush’d moment , hovering , i t m ight seem

D ash’d by the wood-nymph’s beauty , so he buru’d ;

Then , l ighting on the printless verdure , turu’dTo the swoon

’d serpent , and wi th languid arm ,

D e l icate , put to proof the lythe Caducean charm .

So done , upon the nymph his eyes he bentFull of adoring tears and blandishment ,04 ) The manuscr ipt has war in p lace of g r ew.

06) I n the manuscript, bad ,not bade a s in the printed text .

1 4—1 6) The re is an A lexandrine here in the manuscript

Warm,tremulous , devout, bright-ton’

d , psa lterian.

And the next l ine isRavish

'

d she l ifted up her c ircean head ,a read ing which , l ike tha t of l ine 7 8 , shifts backwards the accent on the las t wordb ut one . Line 1 1 6 beg ins wi th B lus/z’d to live damask.

( 1 23) The manuscrip t reads sunk for sank.

( 1 32) The manuscript reads la rzg r ous arm.

PART I .] LAM I A , 225

And towards her stept : she , l ike a moon in wane ,Faded before him , cower’d , nor could restra in

H er fearful sobs , self-folding l ike a flowerThat fa ints into i tself a t evening hourBut the God fostering her chilled handShe fe l t the warmth , her eye l ids open

’d bland ,And , l ike new flowers at morning song of bees ,Bloom

’d , and gave up her honey to the lees .

Into the green-recessed woods they flew ;Nor grew they pale , as mortal lovers do.

Left to herself, the serpent now beganTo change ; her e lfin blood in madness ran ,

H er mouth foam’d , and the grass , therewith besprent ,Wither’d at dew so sweet and virulent ;H er eyes in torture fix

’d , and anguish drear ,

H ot , gla z’d , and wide , wi th l id- lashes al l sear ,

Flash’

d phosphor and sharp sparks , without one cool ing tear .

The colours a ll inflam’d throughout her tra in ,

She writh’d about , convuls’d wi th scarle t pa inA deep volcanian yellow took the placeOf all her m i lder-mooned body’s grace ;And , as the lava ravishes the mead ,Spo i lt al l her s ilver ma i l , and golden brede ;Made gloom of all her frecklings , streaks and bars ,Eclips

’d her crescents , and lick’d up her s tars

So that , in moments few, she was undrestOf all her sapphires , greens , and amethyst ,And rubious-argent : of a ll these bereft ,Nothing but pa ln and ugl iness were left .S ti ll shone her crown ; tha t vanish’d , also she

Melted and disappear’d as suddenly ;And in the air , her new voice luting soft ,Cry

’d , Lycius ! gentle Lycius Borne a loft

Wi th the bright m ists about the mounta ins hoarThese words dissolv’d : Cre te’s forests heard no more .

( 1 42) Cance l led manuscript read ing , And slze like( 1 55) The manuscript reads vu leam an ,

the fi rst ed it ion volcanian. I t seems to

me more l ike ly that the manuscrip t accords with the poe t’s intention than tha t theprinted text does , for this o ld orthography is the more characterist ic of the vocab u

la ry of this part icular poem ,a s introduc ing the more consp icuous ly the mythic per

sona l orig in of the common noun volcano_or v ulcano.

( 1 67 -8) The manuscr ipt readsAnd her new vo ice , soft lu ting in the airCried Lycius ! gentle Lycius , where , ah where !

226 LAM I A . [PART 1 .

Whither fled Lamia , now a lady bright ,A full -born beauty new and exquis i te ?She fled into tha t valley they pass o’erWho go to Corinth from Cenchreas

’shore ;

And rested at the foot of those wi ld hills ,The rugged founts of the Peraean ril ls ,

And of that other ridge whose barren backS tretches , wi th all its m is t and cloudy rack ,South-westward to C leone . There she s toodAbout a young bird’s flutter from a wood ,

Fa ir , on a S loping green of mossy tread ,By a clear pool , where in she pas s ionedTo see herself escap’d from so sore i lls ,While her robes flaunted with the daflodils .

Ah , happy Lycius — for she was a maidMore beauti ful than ever twisted bra id ,Or sigh

’d , or blush

’d , or on spring-flowered lea

Spread a green kirt le to the m instrelsy :A virgin pures t-lipp’d , yet in the loreOf love deep learned to the red heart’s coreNot one hour old , yet of sciential bra inTo unperple x bliss from its ne ighbour pa in ;Define the ir pett ish limi ts , and es trangeThe ir points of contact , and swift counterchange ;Intrigue wi th the specious chaos , and dispartI ts mos t ambiguous a toms wi th sure art ;As though in Cupid’s col lege she had spent

( 1 7 1 - 2) I n the manuscript, accord ing to a ood practica l m ethod Keats had insuch cases , the note of interrogat ion is after m za , and a ful l-s top a t exguzs zte.

( 1 7 3—4 ) The manus cript readsShe fl ed into that valley they mus t pass

Who go from Corinth out to Cencreas ,another instance of change for the sake of a l tering the accent . There is yet anothelinstance in l ine 1 7 6, which stands thus in the m anuscript

The rugged paps of l i ttle Perea ’

s ri l ls ,though he re there is an addit iona l and pe rhaps stronge r reason for the change.( 1 82) S ee note to E ndymzon

,Book 1

,l ine 24 8.

( 1 85) The manuscrip t has three l ines in p la ce of this oneAh ! never heard of, de l igh t never knownSave of one happy morta l only one

,

Lycius the happy : for she was a1 9 2) I n the manus cript , lzer for its .

1 96) The manuscript reads Tae lr for 1 4 s.

228 LAM I A. [PART 1.

H is phantasy was lost , where reason fades ,I n the calm

’d twi l ight of Platonic shades .

Lamia beheld him coming , near , more near

Close to her pass ing , in indifference drear ,H is s i lent sandals swept the mossy green ;So neighbour

’d to him , and yet so unseen

She s tood : he pass’d , shut up in mysteries ,H is m ind wrapp’d l ike his mantle , while her eyesFollow

’d his s teps , and her neck regal white

Turu’d syllabling thus , Ah , Lycius bright , ‘

And wil l you leave me on the hills alone ?

Lycius , look back ! and be some pi ty shown .

”

H e did ; not with cold wonder fearingly ,But Orpheus - l ike a t an Eurydice ;For so de l i cious were the words she sung ,

I t seem’d he had lov

’d them a whole summer long

And soon his eyes had drunk her beauty up ,

Leaving no drop in the bewi ldering cup ,

And s til l the cup was full , -whi le he , afra idLes t she should vanish ere his lip had pa idDue adora tion , thus began to adore ;H er soft look growing coy, she saw his cha in so sure

Leave thee a lone ! Look back ! Ah, Goddess , seeWhether my eyes can ever turn from thee !For pi ty do not this sad heart be l ieEven as thou vanishes t so I shal l die .

S tay ! though a Na iad of the rive rs , s tay !To thy far wishes wi l l thy streams obeyS tay ! though the greenes t woods be thy doma in,

Alone they can drink up the morning ra in :

Though a descended Ple iad , wi l l not oneOf th ine harmonious s is ters keep in tuneThy spheres , and as thy s i lver proxy shine ?So sweetly to these ravish

’d ears of m ine

Came thy sweet gree t ing , that if thou shouldst fadeThy memory wil l was te me to a shade

(236) The manuscript reads platom an s/zaa'es.

(260) After this line ,the manuscript has an add it iona l one ,

an AlexandrineThou to E lys ium gone ,

he re for the vultures I .The suppos it ions of Lycius as to who the fa ir appa rit ion may b e reca l l curious lythe surm ises of Endym ion conce rning his m istre ss ’

s ident ity . S ee Book I I , l ines68a 96

(27 0) T/zy memory ,the reading o f the firs t edition ,

1 5 a lso the origina l rea ding ofthe manuscript , where however the words are a ltered to Tlzeir memor ies .

PART L] LAM I A. 229

For pity do not me l t ! I f I should s tay,”Said Lamia , here , upon this floor of clay ,And pa in my s teps upon these flowers too rough ,Wha t cans t thou say or do of charm enoughTo dul l the nice remembrance of my home ?Thou canst not ask me wi th thee here to roam

Over these hills and vales , where no Joy 1 s ,

Empty of immorta l ity and blissThou art a scholar , Lycius , and mus t knowThat finer spirits cannot brea the be lowl n human cl imes , and l ive : Alas ! poor youth ,What taste of purer air has t thou to sootheMy essence ? What serener palaces ,Where I may all my many senses please ,And by mys terious s le ights a hundred thirs ts appease ?I t cannot be Adieu ! So sa id , she rose

Tiptoe wi th white arms spread . H e , s i ck to loseThe amorous prom ise of her lone compla in ,

Swoon’d , murmuring of love , and pale wi th pa in.

The crue l lady , without any showOf sorrow for her tender favourite’s woe ,But ra ther, if her eyes could brighter be ,With brighter eyes and s low amenity ,Put her new l ips to his , and gave afreshThe l ife she had so tangled in her meshAnd as he from one trance was wakeningInto another, she began to s ing ,

H appy in beauty , life , and love , and every thing ,

A song of love , too swee t for earthly lyres ,While , l ike held breath , the stars drew in the ir panting firesAnd then she whisper

’d in such trembling tone ,As those who , safe together met aloneFor the firs t time through many anguish’d days ,Use other speech than looks ; bidding him ra iseH is drooping head , and clear his soul of doubt ,For tha t she was a woman, and wi thoutAny more subtle fluid in her ve insThan throbbing blood , and that the self-same painsInhabited her fra i l-strung heart as his .

(27 2) I n the manuscript the word fier e does not occur in this l ine .

(287 ) Alte rna tive readings of the manuscr ipt, s toe wit/z w/zzte spread arms , and

On tiptoe w ztlz wad e a rms.

(303) The manuscript reads t/zouglz for tlzr oug /z .(308) Cance l led manuscript reading , TIran t/zroooed in Isis.

230 LAM I A. [PART 1 .

And next she wonder’d how his eyes coul d missH er face so long in Corinth , where , she sa id ,She dwel t but half retir’d , and there had ledD ays happy as the gold co in could inventWithout the aid of love ; yet in contentT i l l she saw him , as once she pass

’

d him by,Where ’

ga ins t a column he leant thoughtful lyAt Venus’ temple porch , ’mid baske ts heap’dOf amorous herbs and flowers , newly reap’

d

Late on tha t eve , as’twas the night before

The Adonian feas t ; whereof she saw no more ,

But wept a lone those days , for why should she adore ?Lycius from death awoke into amaze ,

To see her s till , and s inging so swee t lays ;Then from ama ze into de l ight he fel lTo hear her whisper woman’

s lore so we l l ;And e very word she spake entic

’

d him on

To unperplex’d de l ight and pleasure known .

Le t the mad poe ts say whate ’er they pleas eOf the sweets of Faeries , Peris , G oddesses ,There is not such a trea t among them al l ,

H aunters of cavern , lake , and wa terfal l ,As a rea l woman , l inea l indeedFrom Pyrrha

’s pebbles or old Adam’

s seed .

Thus gentle Lam ia judg’

d , and judg’

d aright ,That Lycius could not love in ha lf a fright ,So threw the goddess off , and won his heartMore pleasantly by playing woman

’

s part ,Wi th no more awe than wha t her beauty gave ,That , while i t smote , s ti ll guaranteed to save .

Lycius to a ll made e loquent reply,Marr ying to eve ry word a twinborn s igh ;And las t , pointing to Corinth , ask’d her sweet ,I f ’twas too far tha t night for her soft fee t .The way was short , for Lam ia’s eagerness

Made , by a spe l l , the triple league decreaseTo a few paces ; not a t a ll surm isedBy blinded Lycius , so in her compri zed .

They pass’d the c ity gate s , he knew not how,

80 noise less , and he neve r thought to know.

(320) The manuscript reads of wnz'

e/z in p lace ofwner eo/Z(322) I n the m anus cript

Lycius from dea th woke into an amaze(349 ) Cancel led manuscript read ing, never ea r

’

d to know.

232 LAM I A [PART 1 .

And so unsully’d was the marble’s hue ,

So through the crys ta l pol ish , l iquid fineRan the dark veins , that none but fee t d1 vineCould e’er have touch’d there . Sounds ZEolianBreath’d from the hinges , as the ample span

Of the wide doors disc los’d a place unknownSome time to any, but those two a lone ,And a few Pers ian mutes , who that same yearWere seen about the markets : none knew whereThey. could inhabit ; the most curiousWere foil’d , who watch

’d to trace them to the ir house

And but the flitter-winged verse mus t tell ,For truth’s sake , what woe afterwards befel ,’Twould humour many a heart to leave them thus ,Shut from the busy world of more incredulous .

(383) Th is l ine was orig ina l ly written thusAnd so unsullid was the marble '

s hue ,

and afterwards a ltered toAnd so unsul lid did the marble shew,

b ut e ither Kea ts or his publisher gave the prefe rence to the first rea d ing ,which

however appeared in the first ed ition with a blem ish : the apostrophe and s takenout for the sake of the second read ing were not put in aga in in reverting to the first.

2386

;The manuscript reads wol ran ; the first ed i tion ( f olian.

39 3 Origina l ly writtenWho watch’d to maze them home to the ir house

but a ltered toWere foil

’

d, Who watch

’

d to maze them to the ir houseand le ft stand ing so in the manus cript.

(396) I n the manuscript, close stands cance l led at the end of th is l ine , leave Men“a s be ing substituted.

L A M I A .

PART I I .

OVE in a hut , wi th water and a crust ,I s Love ,

forgive us Cinders , ashes , dust ;Love in a pa lace is perhaps at last

More grievous torment than a herm i t’s fas t :Tha t is a doubtful tale from faery land ,H ard for the non-e lect to unders tand .

H ad Lycius liv’d to hand his s tory down,

H e m ight have given the mora l a fresh frown,

Or clench’d i t qui te : but too short was the ir bliss

To breed distrust and hate , tha t make the soft voiceBes ides , there , nightly , wi th terrific glare ,

Love , jea lous grown of so complete a pa ir ,H over

’d and buz z

’d his wings , wi th fearful roar ,

Above the l inte l of the ir chamber door ,And down the passage cast a glow upon the floor.For all this came a ruin : s ide by s ide

They were enthroned , in the even tide ,Upon a couch , near to a curta iningWhose a iry te x ture , from a golden string,

Floated into the room , and let appear

Unveil’d the summer heaven , blue and clear ,

Be twi x t two marble shafts — there they reposed,Where use had made i t sweet , with eye l ids closed ,Saving a tythe which love still open kept ,That they m ight see each other while they almost s leptWhen from the s lope s ide of a suburb hill ,D eafening the swal low’

s twitter , came a thril lOf trumpe ts Lycius s tarted the sounds fled,But left a thought , a buzzing in his head .

For the first time , s ince firs t he harbour’d inTha t purple - l ined pa lace of swee t sin,

( 1 0) The manuscr ipt reads makes for make.

234 LAM I A . [PART 1 1 .

His spiri t pass’d beyond its golden bournInto the noisy world almos t forsworn .

The lady , ever wa tchful , pene trant ,Saw this with pa in , so argu ing a wantOf someth ing more , more than her emperyi oys ; and she began to moan and s ighBecause he mus

’d beyond her , knowing we l lThat but a moment’s thought is pass ion’

s pass ing be ll .Why do you s igh , fa ir creature ? ” whisper’d heWhy do you think ? ” re turn’

d she tenderly :You have deserted me ; where am I now ?Not in your heart while ca re we ighs on your browNo , no , you have dismiss ’d me ; and I goFrom your breas t house less : aye , it mus t be so.

”

H e answe r’d , bending to her open eyes ,

Where he was mirror’d smal l in paradise ,

My s i lver planet , both of eve and morn

Why wi l l you plead yourse lf so sad forlorn,

While I am s triving how to fi ll my heartWith deeper crimson , and a double smart ?H ow to entangle , trammel up and snare

Your soul in m ine , and labyrinth you thereLike the hid scent in an unbudded rose ?Aye , a swee t kiss you .see your m igh ty woes .

My thoughts ! sha l l I unve i l them ? Lis ten then !What morta l hath a pri ze , that other menMay be confounded and abash

’

d withal ,But lets it sometimes pace abroad majestica l ,And triumph , as in thee I should rejoi ceAm id the hoarse a larm of Corinth’s voi ce .

Let my foes choke , and my friends shout afar ,While through the thronged s tree ts your bridal carWhee ls round its dazzl ing spokes .

” The lady’s cheelcTrembled ; she nothing sa id , but , pa le and meek ,Arose and kne l t before him , wept a ra in

(45) I n the manuscript, this spe ech has another coup letToo fond wa s I be l ieving ,

fancy fedI n high de liriums

,and blossoms never shed !

(49 ) Keats adopted here ,in the manuscript , a po int ing noticed be fore : he

placed the note of inte rroga t ion a t the end of this l ine ,a sem i—colon at the end

of line 51 , and a fu l l—stop at the end of l ine 54 . The po inting of the te xt is fromthe first ed ition.

(53) I n the manuscriptThy sou l in m ine , and labyrinth thee

236 LAM /A. [PART n.

And , all subdu’d, consented to the hour

When to the bridal he should lead his paramour.Whispering

'

in m idnight s i lence , sa id the youth ,Sure some sweet name thou has t , though , by my truth,I have not ask

’d i t , ever thinking theeNot mortal , but of heavenly progeny ,As s ti ll I do . H as t any mortal name ,Fi t appellation for this dazzl ing frame ?Or friends or kinsfolk on the ci t ied earth ,To share our marriage feas t and nuptial m irth ? ”I have no friends ,” sa id Lamia , 1 1 0,

not one ;My presence in wide Corinth hardly knownMy parents ’ bones are in the ir dus ty urnsSepulchred , where no kindled incense burns ,See ing a l l the ir luckless race are dead , save me ,And I neglect the holy ri te for thee .

Even as you l is t invi te your many gues ts ;But if, as now i t seems , your vis ion res tsWith any pleasure on me , do not bidOld Apollonius from him keep me hid .

”

Lycius , perplex’d at words so blind and blank ,

Made close inquiry ; from whose touch she shrank,Fe igning a s leep ; and he to the dul l shadeOf deep s leep in a moment was betray’d.

I t was the custom then to bring awayThe bride from home at blushing shut of day,Veil

’

d , in a chariot , hera lded a longBy strewn flowers , torches , and a marriage song,With other pageants : but this fa ir unknownH ad not a friend . So be ing left alone ,(Lycius was gone to summon all his kin)And knowing sure ly she could never winH is fool ish hea rt from its mad pompousness ,She set hersel f, high- thoughted , how to dressThe m isery in fi t magnificence .

She did so , but’tis doubtful how and whence

(83) I n the rewritten ve rs ion the re is the cance l led read ingWhen he should to the brida l lead his Pa ramour.

89-9 0) I n writing these two l ines the second t ime

,Kea ts inse rted the word silw

ore appe l la tion , and put kinsfolks aga in.

1 01 ) Cance l led manuscript read ing ,fr om Ms eye in place of fr omklm.

(1 1 2) Cance lled m ript read ing, being for was.

PART LAM I A 237

Came , and who were her subtle se rvitors .

About the hal ls , and to and from the doors ,There was a noise of wings , til l in short spaceThe glowing banque t-room shone wi th wide -arched grace .

A haunting music , sole perhaps and loneSupportress of the fae ry-roof, made moanThroughout , as fearful the whole charm m ight fade .

Fresh carved cedar , m im icking a gladeOf palm and planta in, met from e i ther s ide ,H igh in the m idst , in honor of the brideTwo pa lms and then two planta ins , and so on ,From e ither s ide the ir s tems branch’d one to one

All down the a is led place ; and beneath a llThere ran a stream of lamps s tra ight on from wa l l to wall .So canopy

’d , lay an untas ted feas tTeem ing wi th odours . Lam ia , regal drest ,S i lently pae’d about , and as she went ,I n pale contented sort of discontent ,Mission’d her viewless servants to enrichThe fre tted splendour of each nook and niche .

Be tween the tree-s tems , marbled pla in a t firs t ,Came jasper pannels ; then , anon , there burs tForth creeping imagery of s l ighter trees ,And with the larger wove in smal l intricacies .

Approving all , she faded at se lf-wi ll ,And shut the chamber up , close , hush

’d and s ti ll ,Comple te and ready for the reve ls rude ,When dreadful gues ts would come to spoi l her solitude .

The day appear’d , and all the goss ip rout .

O senseless Lycius ! Madman ! wherefore floutThe s ilent-bless ing fate , warm cloister’d hours ,And show to common eyes these secret bowers ?The herd approach’d ; each guest , with busy bra in ,

Arri ving at the portal , gaz ’d ama in ,

( 1 21 ) Cance lled manuscript read ing ,I zzgr/z- lamp

'

a'for g lowing .

( 1 22—4 ) H unt notes (see Append ix) “This is the very quintessence of the

romantic.

( 1 33) Cance l led manuscript read ings , Teemzz'

nosr a perfieme , and Teeming wing

'

dodour s.

(1 38) Rejected read ing ,

wainseoa tea’for ma rbl ed plain.

1 46) I n the manuscript the words came soon a re struck out in favour of

appear’

a'

.

( 130) The manuscript reads T/ze H erd ar riv

’

a'

,the word arriv

’

d be ing substi«

tute for came, and.

238 LAM/A . [Pm 1 1.

And enter’d marvel ing : for they knew the s treet ,

Remember’d i t from childhood a ll completeWithout a gap , yet ne

’er before had seen

Tha t roya l porch , tha t high-bui lt fa ir demesne ;So in they hurried a ll , ma z’d , curious and keenSave one , who look

’

d the reon with eye severe ,And wi th calm -planted steps wa lk’d in aus tere ;’Twas Apol lonius : something too he laugh’d ,

As though some knotty problem , that had daftH is patient thought , had now begun to thaw,

And solve and me l t : ’twas jus t as he foresaw.

H e m et wi thin the murmurous ves tibuleH is young disc iple .

’Tis no common rule ,

Lycius , sa id he , for uninvited gues tTo force himse lf upon you , and infes tWith an unbidden presence the bright throngOf younger friends ; ye t mus t I do this wrong ,

And you forg ive me .

” Lycius b lush’d , and led

The old man through the inner doors broad-spread ;With reconcil ing words and courteous m ienTurning into sweet milk the sophis t’s Spleen .

Of wealthy lustre was the banque t- room ,

Fill’d wi th pervading bril l iance and perfume

Before each luc id panne l fuming s toodA censer fed wi th myrrh and spiced wood ,Each by a sacred tripod held aloft ,Whose s lender fee t wide - swerv

’d upon the soft

Wool-woofed carpe ts : fifty wreaths of smokeFrom fifty cense rs the ir l ight voyage tookTo the high roof, s til l mimick’d as they roseAlong the mirror’d walls by twin-clouds odorous .

( 1 52) Cance l led manuscript read ing ,wondring for marveling

.

( 1 63—7 2) This passage wa s an a fterthought . The line lo lowing 1 62 in themanuscrip t in the firs t ins tance wa s

Of wea lthy Lus tre wa s the Banque t room,

b ut this is cance l led , and l ine s 1 63—7 2 are inte rpola ted , first on the ba ck of the

p reced ing page of the m anuscrip t, and then 1 ewritten on a separa te leaf.( 1 7 4 ) Cance l led 1 eading

Fi l l’d with l igh t , mus ic,jewe ls

, gold , pe rfume .

( 1 7 7 ) The manuscript has sl ender in l ieu of sacr ed, and in the next line

tripple instead of s lender .

240 LAM I A . [PART 1 1 .

Of every guest ; that each , as he did please ,Might fancy-fit his brows , s i lk-pillow’d at his ease .

What wreath for Lam ia ? What for Lycius ?Wha t for the sage , old Apollonius ?Upon her aching forehead be there hungThe leaves of wi llow and of adder’s tongue ;And for the youth , quick , let us strip for himThe thyrsus , tha t his wa tching eyes may swimInto forgetfulness ; and , for the sage ,

Let spear-

grass and the spi teful this tle wageWar on his temples . D o not all charms flyAt the mere touch of cold philosophy ?There was an awful ra inbow once in heavenWe know her woof, her te x ture ; she is givenI n the dul l cata logue of common things .

Philosophy wi l l cl ip an Ange l’s wings ,Conquer a ll mys teries by rule and l ine ,

Empty the haunted air, and gnomed m ineUnweave a ra inbow, as i t erewhile madeThe tender-person’

d Lamia me lt into a shade .

By her glad Lycius s i tt ing , in ch ief place ,S carce saw in all the room another face ,T i ll , checking his love trance , a cup he tookFul l brimm’d , and oppos ite sent forth a look’Cross the broad table , to beseech a glanceFrom his old teacher’s wrinkled countenance ,And pledge him . The ba ld-head philosopherH ad fix

’d his eye , wi thout a twinkle or s t ir

Ful l on the a larmed beauty of the bride ,Brow-beating her fa ir form , a nd troubling her sweetLycius then press’d her hand , wi th devout touch ,As pale i t lay upon the rosy couch

$226) I n the manuscript , T/zyr sis .

231 ) I n the Autobiography of H aydon, as ed ited by the late Mr. Tom Taylor ,we read a t page 354 of Vo lume I (ed it ion of 1 853) that Kea ts and Lamb

,at one o f

the mee tings a t H aydon'

s house,agreed that Newton had des troyed al l the poe try

of the rainbow,by reduc ing it to the prismat ic co lours .

"This mee t ing was wha t

H aydon ca l ls “the immorta l d inner of the 28th of D ecember 1 8 1 7 ; so that the

idea appea rs to have pers isted in Keats’s m ind.

and once for erewkile.

H ad got his eye ,without a twinkle or stir,

Fix'

d on the alarmed Beautyof his Bride.

PART LAM I A .

’Twas icy , and the cold ran through his veins ;Then sudden i t grew hot , and a ll the pa insOf an unnatura l heat shot to his heart .

Lam ia , what means this ? Wherefore dos t thou start ?Know’

st thou that man ? ” Poor Lam ia answer’d not .

H e gaz’

d into her eyes , and not a jotOwn

’d they the lovelorn piteous appeal

More , more he gaz’d : his human senses ree l

Some hungry spe l l that love l iness absorbs ;There was no recognit ion in those orbs .

Lam ia he cry’d— and no soft- ton’d reply.

The many heard , and the loud reve lryGrew hush ; the s tately mus ic no more breathesThe myrtle sicken

’d in a thousand wreaths .

By fa int degrees , voice , lu‘te , and pleasure ceased ;A deadly s ilence step by s tep increased ,Until i t seem’

d a horrid presence there ,And not a man but fe lt the terror in his ha ir .

Lam ia he shriek’d ; and nothing but the shriekWith its sad echo did the s i lence break .

Begone , foul dream ! he cry’d , gazing aga in

I n the bride’s face , where now no azure veinWander

’d on fair- spac d temples ; no soft bloom

Mis ted the cheek ; no pass ion to il lumeThe deep-recessed vis ion all was blight ;Lam ia , no longer fa ir , there sat a deadly whi te .

Shut , shut those juggl ing eyes , thou ruthless man !

Turn them as ide , wre tch ! or the righteous banOf all the Gods , whose dreadful images

H ere represent the ir shadowy presences ,May p ierce them on the sudden with the thornOf pa inful bl indness ; leav ing thee forlorn ,

I n trembling dotage to the feebles t frightOf consc ience , for the ir long offended m ight ,For all thine impious proud-heart sophis tries ,Unlawful magic , and ent ic ing l ies .

Corinthians look upon that grey-beard wre tch !Mark how, possess

’d , his lashless eye l ids s tretchAround his demon eyes Corinthians , see !My swee t bride wi thers at the ir potency .

”

Fool sa id the sophis t , in an under- tone(254-5) I n the manuscript,

Wherefore dost so start

D ost know tha t Man

(260) Cance l led read ing ,is for was .

24 1

242 LAMI A. [PART 1 1.

Grufl‘

with contempt ; which a death-nighing moanFrom Lycius answer’d , as heart-s truck and los t ,

H e sank supine bes ide the aching ghos t .F001 ! Fool repeated he , while his eyes s ti llRe lented not , nor mov’d ; from every il lOf l ife have I preserv’

d thee to this day,And shal l I see thee made a serpent’s prey ? ”

Then Lam ia b rea th’d dea th brea th ; the sophis t’s eye ,Like a sharp spear , went through her utterly ,Keen , cruel , perceant , s t inging : she , as we llAs her weak hand could any meaning te ll ,Motion

’d him to be s ilent ; va inly so ,

H e look’d and look

’d again a level No

A serpent echoed he ; no sooner said ,Than with a frightfu l scream she vanished :And Lycius

’arms were empty of del ight ,

As were his l imbs of l ife , from that same night .On the high couch he lay —his friends came roundSupported him no pulse , or breath they found ,And , in its marriage robe , the heavy body wound .

(293- 4 ) I n the manuscriptFrom Lycius answer

’

d,as he sunk supine

Upon the couch where Lam ia '

s beau ties p ine.

(296) I n the manuscriptfrom every il l

Tha t youth m ight suffer have I shie lded theeUp to this ve ry hour, and sha l l I seeThee married to a Serpent Pray you Mark

,

Corinthians ! A S e rpe nt, p la in and sta rk !(302) Cance l led read ing ,

motion for meaning .

(31 1 ) The fo l lowing extra ct is appended in Keats's ed it ion as a note to the lastl ine of Lamia :

Philostratus,in his fourth book de Vzta Apol lon zi, ha th a memorab le instance in

this kind,which I may not om it , of one M enippus Lycius , a young m an twenty

-five

years of age , that go ing be twixt Cenchrea s and Co rinth ,met such a phantasm in

the habit of a fa ir gent lewoman, wh ich takin him by the hand ,ca rried him home

to he r house ,in the suburbs o f Corinth , an to ld him she wa s a Phoenician b

birth,and if he would tarry with her, he should hear he r s ing and p lay , and drin

such wine as neve r any d rank , and no man should moles t him ; b ut she , be ing fairand love ly

,wou ld l ive and die with him ,

that wa s fa ir and love ly to beho ld . The

young man,a philosopher , othe rwise sta id and d iscree t

, able to moderate his

pass ions , though not this of love ,ta rried wi th her a wh i le to his great content , and

at las t married her,to whose wedd ing ,

amongst othe r guests , cam e Apol lonius ;who

,by some p robable conjecture s , found he r out to be a se rpent , a lamia ; and

tha t a ll her furniture was , l ike Tanta lus’

gold ,descr ied by H omer, no substance

b ut mere i l lus ions. When she saw he rse lf descried ,she wept, and des ired Apo l

lonius to b e s i lent , but he wou ld not b e moved ,and the reupon she

, p late ,house ,

and a ll that was in it , vanished in an instant : m any thousands took notice of thisfact, for it was done in the m idst of G reece .

"

Burton’

s Anatomy of Me lancholy.’ P ar t 3. S ect. 2.

M emb. 1 . Sues. 1 .

24 4 I SABELLA .

scheme of joint authorship, the fol lowing sentences from the Prefaceto Reynolds

’s volume should s tand associated with I sabel la

The stories from Boccacio (The Garden of Florence , and The

Ladye of Provence) were to have been associated wi th ta les from the

same source , intended to have been written by a friend ;— but ill

ness on his part , and distracting engagements on m ine , preventedus from accompl ishing our plan a t the time ; and D eath now, to mydeep sorrow, has frus tra ted it for ever ! H e , who is gone , was one

of the very kindest friends I possessed , and ye t he was not kinderperhaps to me , than to others . H is intense m ind and powerful

fee l ing would , I truly bel ieve , have done the world some service , hadhis l ife been spared —but he was of too sens i t ive 2 nature— and thushe was des troyed ! One story he completed , and that is to me now

the mos t pa the tic poem in e x istence !I t is l ike ly enough that Keats copied out I sabella as he intended ,

for the fr iend who wrote this about i t after a ll was over . But as yetI have not succeeded in tracing any complete manuscript of the

poem . Mr . R . A . Potts possesses wha t would seem to be two fragments of the original draft . This manuscript is of S tanzas xxx

to XL , exclus ive of Stanza xxxu ; two leaves , one shorter than the

other by the length of a stanza , wr i tten upon both s ides of the

paper , and probably having los t s tanza xxxn with s tanza xx 1x at

the back of i t by a stroke of those generous scissars Wherewi thmanuscripts of Keats were distributed by Severn , formerly the owner

of these fragments . The var ia tions shown by them are noted in thefol lowing pages .

—H . B . F

ISABELLA

TH E POT OF BAS I L.

AI R I sabe l , poor s imple Isabel !Lorenzo , a young pa lmer in Love’s eye

They could not in the self- same mans ion dwel lWithout some s t ir of heart , some ma lady ;

They could not sit at meals but fee l how wel lI t soothed ‘

each to be the other by ;They could not , sure , beneath the same roof sleep‘

But to each other dream , and night ly weep .

With every morn the ir love grew tenderer ,With every eve deeper and tenderer s till ;H e m ight not in house , fie ld , or garden s tir,But her full shape would a ll his see ing fill ;

And his continua l voice was pleasanterTo her , than noise of trees or hidden ri l l ;

Her lute-s tring gave an echo of his name ,

She spoi l t her ha lf-done broidery with the same .

I I I .H e knew whose gentle hand was at the latch ,Before the door had g iven her to his eyes ;

And from her chamber-window he would catchH er beauty farther than the falcon spies ;

And constant as her vespers would he watch ,Because her face was turu

’d to the same skies ;And wi th s ick longing a ll the night outwear ,To hear her morning- s tep upon the s tair.

A whole long month of May in th is sad pl ightMade the ir cheeks pa ler by the break of JuneTo-morrow wi l l I bow to my de l ight ,To-morrow wi l l I ask my lady’s boon .

”

0 may I never see another night ,Lorenzo , if thy l ips breathe not love’s tune .

”

So spake they to the ir pil lows ; but , a las ,H oneyless days and days did he let pass ;

Unt i l swee t Isabe lla’s untouch’d cheekFe l l s ick wi thin the rose

’s jus t domain ,

Fe l l thin as a young mothe r’s , who doth se ekBy every lul l to cool her infant’s pa inH ow i l l she is ,” sa id he , I may not speak ,And yet I wi ll , and te l l my love a l l pla in

I f looks speak love - laws , I wi l l drink her tears ,And a t the leas t ’twil l s tart le off her cares .

”

So sa id be one fa ir morning , and a ll dayH is heart beat awfully aga inst his s ide ;

And to his heart he inwardly did prayFor power to speak ; but s t i l l the ruddy tide

S tifled his voice , and puls’d reso lve away

Fever’d his high conce i t of such a bri de ,Ye t brought him to the meeknes s of a childAlas ! when pa ss ion is both meek and wi ld !

VI I .

So once more he had wak’d and angu ishedA dreary night of love and m isery ,

I f Isabe l’s quick eye had not been wedTo every symbo l on his forehead high ;

She saw i t wa x ing very pa le and dead ,And stra ight a l l flush’

d ; so, l isped tenderly ,Lorenzo ! ” —here she ceas

’

d her t im id quest ,But in her tone '

and look he re ad the rest .

I SABELLA .

Were they unhappy then ? I t cannot beToo many tears for lovers have been shed ,

Too many s ighs g ive we to them in fee ,

Too much of pi ty afte r they are dead ,Too many doleful s tories do we see ,

Wh05e ma tter in bright gold were bes t be readE xcept in such a page whe re Theseus’ spouseOver the pathless waves towards him bows .

XII I .But , for the genera l awa rd of love ,

The l i tt le sweet doth kill much bitterness ;Though Dido s ilent is in under-grove ,And Isabella’s was a great dis tress ,

Though young Lorenzo in wa rm Indian cloveWas not embalm

’d , this truth is not the less

Even bees , the l ittle a lmsmen of spri ng-bowers ,Know the re is r iches t juice in poison-flowers .

XIV.

With her two brothers this fa ir lady dwe lt ,Enriched from ances tra l me rchandize ,

And for them many a weary hand did swe ltI n torched m ines and noisy factor ies ,

And many once proud-quiver’d loins did mel tI n blood from s ting ing whip wi th hol low

Many a ll day in dazzl ing r iver s tood ,To take the rich-or’d drift ings of the flood .

XV .

For them the Ceylon diver held his brea th ,And went all naked to the hungry shark ;

For them his ears gush’

d blood ; for them in deathThe sea l on the cold ice wi th piteous bark

Lay full of darts ; for them a lone did see theA thousand men in troubles wide and dark

H alf- ignorant , they turu’d an easy whee l ,That set sharp racks at work , to pinch and pee l .

I SABELLA . 24 9

XV I .

Why were they proud ? Because their marble fountsGush

’d wi th more pride than do a wre tch’s tears ?

Why were they proud ? Because fa ir orange-mountsWere of more soft ascent than la zar sta irs ?Why were they proud ? Because red- l in’d accountsWere richer than the songs of G recian years ?Why were they proud ? aga in we ask aloud ,Why in the name of G lory were they proud ?

XVI I .Yet were these Florentines as se lf-retiredI n hungry pride and ga inful cowardice ,

As two close H ebrews in tha t land inspired ,Pa l’d in and vineyarded from beggar-spies

The hawks of ship-mast fores ts —the untiredAnd pannier

’d mules for ducats and old lies

Quick ca t’s -paws on the generous s tray-away ,G reat wi ts in Spanish , Tuscan , and Ma lay .

XVI I I .H ow was it these same ledger-men could spyFa ir I sabel la in her downy nes t ?H ow could they find out in Lorenzo’s eye

A straying from his toi l ? H ot Egypt’s pes tInto the ir vis ion covetous and sly !

H ow could these money-bags see eas t and wes t ?Yet so they did and every dea ler fa irMus t see behind , as doth the hunted hare .

XIX .

O e loquent and famed BoccaccioOf thee we now should ask forg i v ing boon ,

And of thy spicy myrtles as they blow,

And of thy roses amorous of the moon ,

(XV I I I ) I t may b e . questioned whe ther l ine s of this stanza shou ld not beg inwith Unto. I nto, however, is the read ing of a ll ed it ions with which I am ao

quainted.

250 I SABELLA .

And of thy li ll ies , tha t do pa ler growNow they can no more hear thy ghittern’

s tune,For venturing syllables that i l l beseemThe quiet glooms of such a piteous theme .

XX .

G rant thou a pardon here , and then the taleShall move on sobe rly , as i t is mee t ;

There is no'

other crime , no mad assa i lTo make old prose in mode rn rhyme more sweet

But i t is done succeed the verse or fa i lTo honour thee , and thy gone spiri t greet ;

To s tead thee as a verse in Engl ish tongue ,A1 1 echo of thee in the north-wind sung .

XXI .

These brethren having found by many s ignsWhat love Lorenzo for the ir s is ter had ,

And how she lov’

d him too , each unconfinesH is bi tter thoughts to other , we l l nigh mad

That he , the servant of the ir trade des igns ,

Should in the ir s is ter’s love be blithe and glad ,When ’twas thei r plan to coax her by degrees

To some high noble and his ol ive - trees .

XXI I .And many a jealous conference had they,And many t imes they bit the ir l ips a lone ,

Before they fix’d '

upon a sures t wayTo make the youngster for his crime a tone ;

And at the las t , these men of crue l clayCut Me rcy wi th a sharp knife to the bone ;

For they resolved in some forest dimTo kill Lorenzo , and there bury him .

XXII I .So on a pleasant morning , as he leantInto the sunrise , o’

er the ba lus trade(xx)

“The compl iment is pa id by us to Bocca ce , whether we publish Or

See page 243

252 I SABELLA .

Of a poor three hours’ absence ? but we’ll gainOut of the amorous dark wha t day doth borrow.

Good bye ! I’ll soon be back .

” Good bye ! ” sa id sheAnd as he went she chanted merrily .

,

XXVI I .So the two brothers and the ir murder’d man

Rode pas t fa ir Florence , to where Arno’

s streamGurgles through straiten’

d banks , and s t i ll doth fanI tse lf wi th danc ing bulrush , and theKeeps head aga inst the freshets . S i ck and wan

The brothers’ faces in the ford did seem ,

Lorenzo’s flush wi th love .—They pas s’d the waterInto a fores t quiet for the s laughter .

XXVI I I .There was Lorenzo sla in and buried in,

There in that fores t did his great love cease ;Ah ! when a soul doth thus its freedom win,

I t aches in lonel iness is i l l a t peaceAs the break -covert blood-hounds of such sin ;They dipp’d the ir swords in the water , and did tease

The ir horses homeward , with convu lsed spur,Each richer by his be ing a murderer .

XXIX .

They told the ir s ister how, wi th sudden speed,Lorenzo had ta ’

en ship for fore ign lands ,Because of some grea t urgency and needI n the ir affa irs , requiring trusty hands .

Poor G irl ! put on thy s tifling widow’

s weed ,And ’

s cape at once from H ope’

s accursed bands ;To-day thou wi l t not see him , nor to

-morrow,

And the ne xt day wil l be a day of sorrow.

(XXV I ! ) H unt says of l ine 1 The fol lowing m as terlya

nt icipa t ion of his end,conve ed in a sin le word

,has be en jus tly adm ired : I do not know to what

plqplis ed admire on this remark has reference, or whether to anything in print at

I SABELLA . 253

She weeps alone for pleasures not to be ;Sore ly she wept unti l the night came on,

And then , instead of love , 0 m isery !She brooded o’er the luxury alone

H is image in the dusk she seem’d to see ,

And to the s i lence made a gentle moan ,

Spreading her perfect arms upon the air ,And on her couch low murmuring Where ? 0 where ? ”

XXXI .But Selfishness , Love’s cous in , he ld not longI ts fiery vigil in her s ingle breast ;

She fre tted for the golden hour , and hungUpon the time wi th feverish unres t

Not long for soon into her heart a throngOf higher occupants , a richer zest ,

Came tragic ; pass ion not to be subdu’d ,

And sorrow for her love in travels rude .

XXXII .I n the mid days of autumn , on the ir evesThe breath ofWinter comes from far away ,

And the s ick wes t cont inua lly bereavesOf some gold tinge , and plays a roundelay

Of death among the bushes and the leaves ,To make all bare before he dares to s trayFrom his north cavern . So swee t I sabe lBy gradua l decay from beauty fe ll ,

(XXX) The manuscript reads wept for weeps in l ine 1 ; and l ine 5 s tands thusWhat m ight have been too p la inly did she

(XXX I ) I n l ines 2 and 3 the manuscript shows the cance ll ed read ingI ts fiery vig i l in her native M ind

For joy escap'

d she mourn’

d .

I n lines 7 and 8 there is the rejected read ingPass ions not to b e subdued

Exa lt ing her to pat ientand again

A yearning for her Love

254 I SABELLA .

XXXI I I .Because Lorenzo cam e not . OftentimesShe ask’d her brothers , with an eye a ll pale ,

S tri v ing to be itse lf, wha t dungeon cl imes

Could keep him off so long ? They spake a ta leT ime after t ime , to quie t her . The ir cr imesCame on them , l ike a smoke from H innom’

s valeAnd every night in dreams they groan’

d aloud ,To see their sis ter in her snowy shroud .

XXXIV.

And she had died in drowsy ignorance ,But for a th ing more deadly

dark than al l ;I t came l ike a fierce potion , runk by chance ,Which saves a s ick man from the feather’d pall

For some few gasping moments ; l ike a lance,Wak ing an Indian from his cloudy hal lWith cruel pierce , and bring ing him aga inSense of the gnawing fire at heart and brain.

XXXV.

I t was a vis ion . I n the drowsy gloom ,

The dull of m idnight , a t her couch’s footLorenzo s tood , and wept : the fores t tombH ad marr

’d his glossy ha ir which once could shoo t

(XXX I I I ) I n l ine 4 the manuscr ipt reads bcnd for keep , and m l ine 5 M ont/z afterM onth for s e c

g?” time . I n l ine 6,

keavy l S cance l led be twee n Came and on .

For H innom’

s Va e sce the S econd Book of the Chronic les of the Kings of I srae lChapte r XXV I I I , ve rse 3 Moreover he burnt incense in the va l ley o f the son ofH innom ,

and burnt his ch i ldren m the fire, afte r the abominat ions of the hea then

whom the Lord had cas t out be fore the chi ldren of I srae l .(XXX I V) Cance l led read ing of l ine 4

Wh ich save s the sick some moments from the Pa l l.(XXXV) I n l ine 1 the m anuscript reads keavy for drowsy , and I cannot b u

think this applica tion of the same adject ive to ig norance and to g loom in the sam e

page was a p rinte r’

s o r copyist ’5 e rror. I n l ine 3, H is has been s truck out in favourof Tbe , and l ines 4 to 7 o rig ina l ly read

H ad m a rr'

d his g lossy ha ir, that once cou ld shootBright go ld into the S un ,

and stamp'

d his doom

Upon his so i led l ips , and took the me l low LuteFrom his de ep vo ice ,

and down pas t his loamedBut the read ings put cold doom

,and taken Me so] ? Lute were afterwards subeti

tuted ; and the redundant words soiled and down were struck out.

I SABELLA .

Go , shed one tear upon my hea ther-bloom ,

And i t sha ll comfor t me wi thin the tomb .

XXXIX .

I am a shadow now, a las ! alas !Upon the skirts of human-nature dwe ll ing

Alone : I chant alone the holy mass ,

While l i ttle sounds of l ife are round me knell ing ,

And glossy bees at noon do fieldward pass ,And many a chape l bell the hour is te l ling ,

Pa ining me through : those sounds grow s trange to me ,And thou art dis tant in H umani ty .

XL.

I know what was , I fee l ful l we ll wha t is ,And I should rage , if spirits could go mad ;

Though I forge t the tas te of earthly bliss ,That paleness warms my grave , as though I had

A Seraph chosen from the bright abyssTo be my spouse : thy paleness makes me glad ;

Thy beauty grows upon me , and I feelA greater love through all my essence s tea l .

The Spiri t mourn’d Adieu ! ” dissolv

’d , and leftThe atom darkness in a slow turmoil ;

As when of hea lthfu l m idnight s leep bereft ,Thinking on rugged hours and fruit less toil ,We put our eyes into a pi llowy cleft ,And see the spangly gloom froth up and boi lI t made sad Isabe lla’s eye l ids ache ,

And in the dawn she s tarted up awake ;(XXX I X) Cance l led open ing for l ine 3, 1 moan a lone . L ine 5 beg ins with Wkileinstead o fAnd. The coup le t wa s firs t sketched in thus

Pa ining m e through those sounds to me grow strange

And thou art far beyondbut the read ing of the text is supp l ied .

(XL) Afte r w/za t was , in l ine 1 , the words and now a re cance l led in the manu

script , which , in line 2,reads r ave for r ag e and shadows for spin ts. Line 3 stands

thusThough I forgetwhat Pleasure was a

I SABELLA

XLI I .H a ! ha ! ” sa id she , I knew not this hard life ,I thought the worst was s imple m isery ;

“ I thought some Fate wi th pleasure or wi th s trifePortion

’d us happy days , or e lse to die ;But there is crime a brother’s bloody knifeSwee t Spiri t , thou has t school’d my infancyI’l l vis i t thee for this , and kiss thine eyes ,

And greet thee mom and even in the skies .

XLI I I .When the full morning came , she had devisedH ow she m ight secret to the forest hie ;

H ow she m ight find the clay , so clearly pr i zed ,And s ing to i t one lates t lullaby ;

H ow her short absence m ight be unsurm ised ,While she the inmost of the dream would try.

Resolv’d , she took with her an aged nurse ,And went into that disma l forest-hearse .

XLIV .

See , as they creep a long the river s ide ,H ow she doth whisper to tha t aged D ame ,

And , after looking round the champa ign wide ,Shows her a knife . Wha t feverous hect ic flameBurns in thee , ch ild ? What good can thee be tide ,Tha t thou should’s t sm i le aga in ? —The evening came ,

And they had found Lorenzo’s earthy bed ;The fl int was there , the berries at his head .

XLV.

Who hath not loiter’d in a green church-yard,And le t his sp iri t , l ike a demon-mole ,Work through the clayey soil and grave l hard ,To see scull , coffin’d bones , and funera l stole ;

Pitying each form that hungry D eath hath marr’d,And fill ing it once more wi th human soul ?

Ah ! this is hol iday to wha t was fe ltWhen Isabella by Lorenzo kne lt .

258 I SABELLA .

XLVI .She gaz

’d into the fresh-thrown mould , as thoughOne glance did ful ly al l its secrets te l l ;

Clearly she saw, as other eyes would knowPale l imbs a t bottom of a crys tal we ll ;

Upon the murderous spot she seem’d to grow,

Like to a na tive l i lly of the del l :Then with her knife , al l sudden , she beganTo dig more fervently than misers can.

XLVI I .Soon she turu’d up a soi led glove , whereonH er s i lk had play’d in purple phantas ies ,

She kiss’d i t with a lip more chil l than s tone.

And put i t in her bosom , where i t driesAnd free zes utterly unto the boneThose da inties made to s til l an infant’s cries

Then ’

gan she work aga in ; nor stay’d her care ,But to throw back a t times her ve i l ing ha ir.

XLVI I I .That old nurse stood bes ide her wondering ,Until her heart fel t pi ty to the core

At s ight of such a disma l labouring ,

And so she knee led , wi th her locks all hoar,And put her lean hands to the horrid thing :

Three hours they labour’d at this trava i l soreAt las t they fe l t the ke rne l of the grave ,

And Isabe lla did not s tamp and rave .

(XLV I I ) The s ixth l ine has been a top ic of censure ; b ut I think wrong ly. Takenin itse lf apart from the poem , it m ight b e he ld to b e an inoppor tune de script ion ;b ut in the context of this m os t trag ic and pa thetic story

,it has to me a surpass ing

fitness a fitness a stonish ing in the work of a youth of Kea ts ’s age in 1 8 1 8. The

idea of ma terni ty thus connected a s it were by chance with the image of thiswidowed gir l on the borders of insanity emphasiz e s in the most beaut ifu l way thehe lp le ss m ise ry of a l ife wrecked by the wickedne ss of others

,and throws into

ghas t ly contrast the joy of wha t shou ld have been and the agony of wha t was.(XLV I I I ) H unt observes here I t is curious to see how the s imp le pa thos of

Boccac c io,or (which is the same thing ) the s imp le intens ity of the herome

’

s fee lings , suffice s our author more and more ,

as he ge ts to th e end of his s tory. And

fie has re lated it as happ i ly, as if he had neve r written any poetry but that of theeart.

"

260 I SABELLA .

And cover’d i t wi th mould , and o

’er i t set

Sweet Bas i l , which her tea rs kept ever wet .

LI I I .And she forgot the stars , the moon , and sun ,

And she forgot the blue above the trees ,And she forgot the de lls where waters run ,

And she forgot the chilly autumn bree ze ;She had no knowledge when the day was done ,And the new morn she saw not : but in peace

H ung over her swee t Bas il evermore ,

And moisten’d i t with tears unto the core .

LIV.

And so she ever fed i t wi th thin tears ,Whence thick , and green , and beautifiil i t grew,

So tha t i t sme lt more ba lmy than its peersOf Bas i l- tufts in Florence ; for i t drew

Nurture bes ides , and l ife , from human fears ,From the fas t mouldering head there shut from view

So that the jewe l , safe ly casketed ,Came forth , and in perfumed leafits spread .

O Me lancholy , l inger here awhile !0 Mus i c , Mus ic , breathe despondingly .

O Echo , Echo , from some sombre isle ,Unknown , Le thean , s igh to us—O s igh !

Spirits in grief, l ift up your heads , and smi le ;Lift up your heads , swee t Spiri ts , heavi ly ,

And make a pale l ight in your cypress glooms ,T inting wi th s i lver wan your marble tombs .

Moan hither , all ye syllables of woe ,From the deep throat of sad Me lpomene !

(LI V) Whe ther the savage and tartarly as sa ilants of Kea ts’

s day ava i ledthemse lves of the word lea/it s in the 8th l ine for an a ccusa tion of word-co ining , Ido not know ; b ut as fa r as I have been ab le to as certa in this d im inutive of leaf ispeculia r to the present passage.

I SABELLA

Through bronzed lyre in tragi c order go ,

And touch the strings into a mys tery ;Sound mournfully upon the winds and low ;For s imple Isabe l is soon to be

Among the dead : She withers , l ike a palmCut by an Indian for its juicy balm .

LVI I .O leave the palm to wi ther by itse lf ;Le t not quick Winter chill its dying hour !I t may not be those Baa'l ites of pe lf,H er brethren , noted the continua l showerFrom her dead eyes ; and many a curious elf,

Among her kindred , wonder’d that such dowerOf youth and beauty should be thrown as ideBy one mark

’d out to be a Noble’s bride .

LVI I I .And , furthermore , her bre thren wonder’d muchWhy she sat drooping by the Bas i l green ,

And why i t flourish’d , as by magic touch ;Great ly they wo‘

nder’d wha t the thing m ight meanThey could not surely give bel ief, that suchA very nothing would have power to wean

H er from her own fa ir youth , and pleasures gay,And even remembrance of her love’s delay .

LIX.

Therefore they watch’d a time when they m ightThis hidden whim ; and long they watch’d in

For se ldom did she go to chape l-shrift ,And seldom fe lt she any hunger-pa in ;

And when she left , she hurr ied back , as swiftAs bird on wing to breas t its eggs aga in ;

And, patient as a hen-bird , sat her thereBes ide her Basil , weep ing through her ha ir.

LX.

Yet they contriv’d to s teal the Bas i l-pot ,And to e xam ine it in secret place

The thing was vile with green and l iv id spot,And yet they knew i t was Lorenzo’s face :

26 1

262 I SABELLA .

The guerdon of the ir murder they had got ,And so left Florence in a moment’s space ,

Never to turn aga in .— Away they went ,

With blood upon the ir heads , to banishment.

O Me lancholy , turn thine eyes away !0 Mus ic , Mus i c , breathe despondingly !

O Echo, Echo, on some other day,

From is les Lethean , s igh to us—O sigh !Spiri ts of gr ief, s ing not your Wel l-a-way !

”

For I sabe l , sweet I sabe l , wil l die ;Will die a death too lone and incomplete ,Now they have ta’en away her Basil sweet .

LXI I :Piteous she look’d on dead and senseless things ,Asking for her los t Basil amorous ly ;

And wi th me lodious chuckle in the stringsOf her lorn voice , she oftentimes would cry

After the P ilgrim in his wanderings ,To ask him where her Bas i l was ; and why

’Twas hid from her : For crue l ’tis ,” said she ,To s tea l my Bas i l-pot away from me .

”

LXII I .And so she p in’d , and so she died forlorn,

Imploring for her Bas il to the las t .No heart was there in Florence but did mournI n pi ty of her love , so overcas t .

And a sad ditty of this s tory bornFrom mouth to mouth through all the country pass’d :

S ti ll is the burthen sung O crue lty ,To s teal my Bas il-pot away from me

(LX I I ) H unt says The pas sage about the tone of her voice,—the poor lost

witted coaxing ,the chuckle

,

’

in which she asks after her Pi lgrim and her Bas i l,

is as true and touching an ins tance of the e ffe ct o f a happy fam i l iar word , as any in

a ll poe try . I t 1 5 diflicult to imagine tha t these sentence s of H unt’

s were not some

how m isprinted ; b ut , as the review occurs only 1 n the origina l issue of I ke I ndi

cator , one ha s no m eans of testing this passage by compa rison wi th la ter ed it ions .

I t can hard ly b e supposed tha t H unt rea l ly thought tbc Pilgr iml

meant Lorenzo ,

and it ough t not to be necessa ry to expla in tha t the poor lost l ca l led after any

p i lgrim whom chance sent her way, enquiring of him where her il was .

264 TH E E VE OF S T. AGNES .

whole of Mr . Keats’s beautiful poem , enti tled as above , to say nothing of our loving commentary . We prom ised , some t ime ago , in giv

ing quotations from Thomson’s Cas t le of Indolence , ’to r ead a small

poem occas iona lly wi th the reader , after this fashion . Correspondentshave more than once rem inded us of the prom ise : we never los t s ightof it , and here we redeem i t ; as we hope we often shal l . To-day is

the Eve of S t . Agnes ; and we thought we could not take a better opportunity of increas ing the public acqua intance wi th this e xqu is ite production , which is founded on the popular supers t i t ion connec ted wi ththe day. S t . Agne s was a M in , who suffered martyrdom in

the re ign of Dioclesian . H er parents , a few days afterare sai d to have had a vis ion of her , surrounded by ange ls , and at

tended by a whi te which afterwards became sacred to her . I n

the Cathol ic chu—rEh forme rly the nuns used to bring a couple of lambsto her al tar during mass . The sup egstition is (for we be l ieve it is s tillto be found) that by taking ce rta in measures of div ina t ion , dami e ls

may get a s ight of the ir futpl e llusbands in a dream . The ordinary( process seems to have been by fas t ing . Aubrey (as quoted in Brand’sPopular Antiquit ies ’

) ment ions another , which is , to take a row of

pins , and pull them out one by one , saying a Pa ter-nos ter ; after

which , upon going to bed , the dream is sure to ensue . Brand quotesBen Jonson

And on swee t S t . Agnes’night ,

Please you with the promis’d s ightSome of husbands , some of lovers ,Which an empty dream discovers .

But another poe t has now taken up the creed in good poetic earnest ;and if the supers tition should go out in every other respect , in his richand lov ing pages i t wi ll l ive for ever .

”

H unt is wrong in saying the a 1 s t of January is the Eve of St .

Agnes . That day is the Feas t of S t . Agnes : the Eve or Vigi l is of

course the 20th . An account of the supers t i t ions connected with thisVigi l , the Engl ish H alloween , wi ll be found in Chambers’s Book ofD ays . H . B . F.]

TH E EVE OF ST . AGNES .

T . Agnes’ Eve Ah , bitter chill i t was !

The owl , for all his feathers , was a - cold ;” a .

The hage limp’d trembling through the frozen grass ,And s ilent was the flock in woolly fold :Numb were the Beadsman

’s fingers , while he told

H is rosary , and while his fros ted breath ,Like pious incense from a censer old ,

Seem’d taking fl ight for heaven , wi thout a death ,

Pas t the swee t V irgin’s picture , while his prayer he sa i th .

( 1 ) H unt , quot ing the first l ine a s an i l lustrat ion for the paper A “ N ow ; de

scriptive of a Cold D ay in his London 7 0nrna l for the 3rd of D ecember 1 834 ,changes the sex of the owl and reads

The owl,with a ll her feathers , is a-co ld ,

or you think her so. I n his comment on the who le s tanza he aga in m isquotesthe line . H e says

,What a comp le te fee l ing of winter-time is here

,together with

an intimat ion of those Ca tho l ic e leganc ies , of which we a re to have more in the

poem !The owl, with a ll his feathers , was a-co ld.

Could he have se lected an image more warm and comfortable in itse lf,and , there

fore ,better contrad icted by the season We fee l the p lump ,

fea thery bird in hisnqok ,

shivering in sp ite of his natu ra l househo ld warm th , and star ing out at the

strange weather. The hare cr inging through the chil l gra ss is very p iteous , and thes i lent flock very pa t ient ; and how qu iet and gent le , as we l l as winter ly, are a llthese c ircum stances , and fit to open a quie t and gent le poem The breath o f thep i lgrim , l ikened to

‘

p ious incense ,

’

comp letes them ,and is a s im i le in adm irable

keep ing ,

’

as the pa inte rs ca l l it ; tha t is to say, is thoroughly harmonious with itse lf and a l l tha t is go ing on. The breath of the p ilgr im is vis ible

,so is that of a

censer ; his object is re l ig ious , and so is the use of the censer ; the censer,after its

fashion,may b e sa id to pray , and its breath , l ike the p i lgrim ’

s , ascends to heaven.

Young students of poe try may, in this image a lone ,see wha t imag ina t ion is , unde r

one of its most poetica l forms , and how thoroughly it ‘te lls.

’

There is no part ofit unfitting . I t is not app l icable in one point , and the reverse in anothe r.

’

I n the letter which Keats wrote to Taylor about an a lte rat ion made in stanza v1 1

(which see ) he expla ins that he used the word d ul l“to avo id the echo cold in the

second l ine ; from which we may infer tha t the publisher had a ltered d ril l tocold We may safe ly a ssume that the obsole te form a -cold was imported s tra ightfrom Shakespeare , s ince in Kea ts’s copy of the 1 808 fol io Scene I V of Act I I I ofKing Lear bears evidence of having been read shortly a fte r Torn Ke ats

'

s dea th ;and the words poor e Tom ,

in the immed iate ne ighbourhood of Tom’

s a -cold ,a re

Iu

pderlined

,the date Sunday evening , Oct. 4» 1 81 8, be ing written alongside by'

eaI S.

266 E VE OF S T. AGNES.

His prayer he sa i th , this patient , holy man ;Then takes his lamp , and r ise th from his knees,And back re turne th , meagre , barefoot , wan ,

Along the chape l a isle by s low degreesThe soul tur’d dead , on each s ide , seem to freeze ,

‘

Empri‘

sfi im k, purgatoria l ra i lsKn ights , ladies , praying in dumb ora t

’ries ,

H e pas seth by ; and his weak spiri t fai lsTo think how they may ache in i cy hoods and ma ils .

I I I .Northward h e turneth through a l i ttle door ,And scarce three steps , ere Mus ic’s golden tongue( 1 1 ) H unt says The ge rm of the thought , or som ething l ike it , is in D ante

,

where he speaks of the figures that pe rform the part of sus ta ining co lumns inarchitecture . Kea ts had read D ante in Mr. Ca rey’s transla tion ,

for which he had a

grea t respect . H e began to read him afte rwards in I ta l ian ,which language he was

maste ring with surpris ing qu ickness . A friend of ours has a copy of Ariosto con

ta ining adm iring marks of his pen. But the same thought may have o r igina l lys truck one poet as we l l as anothe r. Perhaps the re are few that have no t fe lt some

thing l ike it in see ing the figures upon tombs . H ere, howeve r , for the first t ime

,

we be l ieve,in Eng l ish poe try, it is expressed ,

and with wha t fee l ing and e legance !Most wintry as we l l a s penitentia l is the word aching ,

’

in ‘icy hoods and ma ils ;

and most fe lic itous the introduction of the Catho l ic idea in the word purga toria lThe very colour of the ra i ls is made to as sume a me aning , and to shadow forth

the g loom of the punishment

I mpr zsoned in blackpurg atoria l rails .

The passage of D ante referred t o is in Canto x of the Purga torio ,and re lates to

“the souls of those who exp ia te the sin o f pride , and who are bent down beneath

the we ight of heavy stones .

"I quote the vers ion of Cary, as tha t with which Keats

was fam 1 liar :

As , to support incumbent floor or roof,For corbe l , is a figure some times seen

,

That crump le s up its knee s unto its brea st ;With the feign '

d posture , s tirring ruth unfeign’

dI n the beho lder's fancy ; so I sawThese fashion’

d , when I noted we l l the ir gu ise.Each , as his back was laden,

came indeedOr more or less contracted ; and it se em ’

d

As he,who show'

d most pa tience in his look ,Wa i l ing exclaim

’d :

“I can endure no more .

"

Cary adds the fo l lowing note to this passage : Chillingworth ,cap . vi . 54 , speaks

of‘

those crouching ant icks,which seem in grea t b uildin to labour under the

we ight they bear.

’

And Lord Shaftesbury has a s im ilar il us tration in his Essayon Wit and H umour

, p . 4 . é 3.

( I I I ) H unt ita l ic izes and comm ents thusFlatter

’

d to tear s this aged man and poor.

This flattered is e xqu is ite. A true poe t is by nature a me taphys ic ian ; fa r greater

268 E VE OF S T. AGNES .

Of old romance . These let us wish away ,And turn , soul-thoughted , to one _n y there ,Whose heart had brooded , a ll tha t wintry day,

On love , and wing’

d St . Agnes’sa intly care ,

As she had heard old dames ful l many times declare .

VI .

They told her how, upon S t . Agnes’Eve ,

Young virgins m ight have vis ions of de l ight ,And soft adorings from the ir loves rece iveUpon the honey

’d m iddle of the night ,

I f ceremonies due they did aright ;As , supperless to bed they must re tire ,And couch supine the ir beauties , l illy white ;Nor look behind , nor s ideways , but require

Of H eaven wi th upward eyes for a ll tha t they des ire .

V I I .

Ful l of this whim was thoughtfulM g

The mus ic , yearn ing l ike a God in pam ,

She scarce ly heard : her ma iden eyes divine ,

Fix’d on the floor , saw many a sweeping train

Pass by she heeded not at all : in va inCame many a t iptoe , amorous caval ier ,And back retir’d ; not cool’d by high disda in ,

But she saw not : her heart was otherwhereShe sigh

’d for Agnes’ dreams , the swee tes t of the

he cou ld othe rwise deserve ; and so the p ity is not exc lus ive ly on his own s ide : wep ity him too

,and wou ld fa in see him out of tha t co ld chape l , gathe red into a warm er

p lace than a grave . But it was not to b e . We must,the re fore

, conso le ours e lveswith knowing ,

tha t this icy endurance of his was the last , and that he soon found

himse lf a t the sunny ga te of heaven.

(V I I ) I n a le tter to Taylor da ted the r 1 th of June 1 820 Kea ts says he has be enread ing the proofs , and has found wha t appears to b e an a lteration here

,

name lyher ma iden eye s inc l ine

S t i l l on the floor, whi le m any a sweep ing tra in

My meaning , says the poet , is quite destroyed by the a lteration. I do not

use tr ain for concour se of passer s by,but for skzr ts sweep ing a long the floor.

"I !

this was the measure o f the right of a lte rat ion which the publisher pe rm i tted himse lfiwe m ay b e sure tha t a good dea l of m inor mod ifica tion was carried throughwithout Kea ts find ing it out. The poet is ve ry lenient here , refraining fromany observation on the ru in worked to his grammar.

E VE OF S T. AGNES . 269

She daue’d along with vague , regardless eyes ,Anx ious her l ips , her brea thing quick and shortThe ha l low’d hour was near at hand : she s ighsAm id the timbre ls , and the throng’d resortOf whisperers in anger , or in sport ;’Mid looks of love , defiance , hate , and scorn,

H oodwink’d with faery fancy ; a ll amort ,

Save to St . Agnes and her lamps unshorn ,

And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn.

IX .

So , purpos ing each moment to retire ,

She linger’d s ti ll . Meantime , across the moors ,

H ad come young Popping ,with heart on fire

For Madel ine . Bes ide the porta l doors ,Buttress

’d from moonl ight , stands he , and imploresAll sa ints to g ive him s ight of Made l ine ,But for one moment in the tedious hours ,(VI I I ) The manuscript shows the following varia tion

She danc’

d a long with vague uneager eyesH er anx ious mouth fu l l pulp ’

d with rosy thoughtThe hour was near a t hand and she s ighs

but the read ing of the text is substituted in the ca se of l ine s 2 and 3. I n l ine 7 theread ing Size wa s koodwink

'

d wit/z fancy is superseded by that of the text . The use

of the o ld word amor t is pecu l iar ly happy : it is more expre ss ive of d eadened p er

cep tion than any other s ingle word , and is ful l of poet ic a ssocia tions . Compare

The Taming of tke Skr ew ,Act I V , Scene I I I , l ine 36

H ow fares myKate What,swee t ing ,

al l amort

a lso the First Part ofKing H enry VI , Act I I I , Scene 1 1 , l ine 1 24

What , a l l amort Rouen hangs her head forand Mass inger's Par liament of Love , Ac t I V , S cene V ,

ovial ! doctor ;No

,I am a ll amort as if I ad la in

Three days in my grave a lready.( I X) Cance lled manuscrip t read ing ,

S /ze ling er ed fea rficl w/zo m tg/it . I n l ine 3Porp/zyro is cance l led and Lione l substitu ted ,

and we read afir e for onfir e. After

M adeline in l ine 4 the re is a cance l led read ingMost p iteous he imp lores

All sa ints ,and before the read ing of the text was arrived a t the re was a m idway read ingWatkin tke Porta l D oor s . Line 8 orig ina l ly s tood ,

unfinished,

Tha t he m igh t gaze ,or speak , or knee l

presumably comp leted in the poet’s mind by the words such tking s kave been.

27 0 E VE OF S T. AGNES .

Tha t he m ight gaze and worship a ll unseen ;Perchance speak , knee l , touch , kiss in sooth such things have been.

X.

H e ventures in : let no buz z’d whisper te llAll eyes be muffl ed , or a hundred swordsWill s torm his heart , Love’s fev’rous citadel

For him , those chambers he ld barbarian hordes ,!H yena foemen , and hot-blooded lords ,

Whose very dogs would e xecrat ions howlAga ins t his l ineage : not one breas t affordsH im any mercy , in tha t mans ion foul ,

Save one old beldame , weak in body and in soul

Ah , happy chance ! the aged crea ture came ,Shuffl ing a long wi th ivory-headed wand ,To where he s tood , bid from the torch’s flame ,Behind a broad hal l-pil lar , far beyondThe sound of merr iment and chorus blandH e s tartled her ; but soon she knew his face ,And grasp

’

d his fingers in her pals ied hand ,Saying , Mercy , Porphyro ! hie thee from this place ;They are a ll here to-nigh t , the whole blood- thirs ty race !

(X) The opening l ine was firs t written thusH e ventures in wrapped in a dark

and then we get the read ing ,

H e ventures in c loak’

d up in dark d isguiseLe t no Man se e him— or a hundred swords

W i ll storm his heart for a ll his amorous s ighs .

Next we haveI n ventures he let no damn

’

d whispe r te l lthen the read ing of the text

,except the word buz z 'd (for damn'

d) which is not in themanuscript . Line 6 origina l ly ended with bar k and l ine 8 wi th dark. The re is a.

cance l led read ing for l ine 7 , Ag ains t kis name and lineag e , and l ine 9 origina l lystood unfinished

Save one old Be ldame nigh to lose the(XI ) The manuscript reads B e ldame for cr eatur e in l ine 1 ; and l ine 2 was o rig i

na l ly writtenTotter ing a long with ivory headed s taff.

I n l ine 4 Ang e is cance l led in favour of br oad. I n l ine 8 the manuscript reads

Mer cy yesn for M er cy, Porpliyro I

27 2 E VE OF S T. AGNE S.

St . Agnes ! Ah ! i t is S t . Agnes’Eve

Yet men wi l l murder upon holy days :Thou mus t hold wa ter in a witch’s s ieve ,4And be l iege- lord of a ll the E lves and Fays ,To venture so : i t fills me wi th ama zeTo see thee , Porphyro St . Agnes

’Eve !

G od’s he lp ! my lady fa ir the conjuror playsThis very night : good ange ls her dece ive

But let me laugh awhile , I ’ve m i ckle time to grieve .

”

Feebly she laughe th in the languid moon ,

While Porphyro upon her face doth look ,Like puzzled urchin on an aged croneWho keepe th clos’d a wond’rous riddle -book ,As spectacled she s i ts in chimney nook .

NJ?

But soon his eyes grew bri l l iant , when she toldH is lady’s purpose ; and he s carce could brookTears , a t the thought of those enchantments cold ,

And Made l ine as leep in lap of legends old .

(XI V) I n l ine 2 the manuscript reads holidays for holy days ; and in lines 5 and 6there is a cance l led read ing ,

in truth it doth amazeYoung S ignor Porphyro .

I n Regina ld S cot’s Discovery of Witchcr aft (Book X I I I , Chapter XV I ) a prayer ism entioned whereby migh t b e carried in a s ieve water or other l iquor.

”

(XV) Cance l led manuscript read ing of l ine 1 ,

Feebly she laughs in the bright languid Moon

I n l ine 3 As doth an Ur chin stands a ltered to As puz z led Ur chin ; and in l ine 9there is a cance l led read ing amon those leg ends old . H unt

’

s comment is as fo l

lows H e a lmost shed tears o sympathy , to th ink how his treasure is exp osedto the cold — and of de l ight and pride to think of her s leep ing beauty , andher love for himse lf. This pas sage ‘

as leep in lap of legends old’

is in the

highest imag ina tive taste,fus ing toge the r the imag inative and the sp iritua l , the

remo te and the near. Made l ine is as leep in her b ed ; but she is a lso a s leep inaccordance with the legends of the season ; and there fore the b ed becom es their

lap as we l l a s s leep ’

s . The poet doe s not crit ica l ly think of a l l this ; he fee ls it :and thus shou ld other young poe ts draw u

fpon the prom inent po ints of the ir

fee l ings on a subject,sucking the essence out o them into ana logous words , instea d

of beating about the bush for thoug hts , and , perhaps , ge tt ing very cle ver ones b ut

not thoroughly pert inent ; not wanted ; not the best . Snob , a t leas t , is the d lfi'

e l‘e

ence between the truest poetry and the degrees beneath it .” H unt shou ld havesaid , to b e quite exact, not M adeline is a sleep in her bed, but Porphyr o imagines

E VE OF S T. AGNES . 27 3

XVI .

Sudden a thought came l ike a full-blown 13 55 ,

Flushing his brow, and in his pa ined heartMade purple riot : then doth he proposeA stratagem , that makes the be ldame startA crue l man and impious thou art

Swee t lady , let her pray , and s leep , and dreamAlone wi th her good ange ls , far apartFrom wicked m en l ike thee . Go , go I deem

Thou cans t not sure ly be the same tha t thou didst s eem .

XVI I .I wil l not harm her , by all sa ints I swear ,

Quoth Porphyro : 0 may I ne’er find gra ceM adeline asl eep in her bed. I t is cur iou s that the c ri t ic takes no

,notice of the

strange m isuse of br ook for the sake of rhym e . Perhaps the sent im ent of the word

bau lk was in Kea ts’

s m ind ,as that is c le a r ly the m eaning of the pas sage ; and

brook was p robably written in a kind of absence of m ind .

(XVI ) The opening orig ina lly stood thus in the manuscriptSudden a thought more rosy than the roseFlush

'

d his young Che ek , and in his painfl e headMade riot fierce and then doth he

The revision of this passage leaves it incomp lete , thusSudden a rosy though tH eated his Brow and in his painfl e head

Made purp le r iot : then doth heThe read ing of the text is not supp l ied a t a ll . The phone tic spe l l ing painfl e forpain/idis cur ious ; and the word head where hea r t now stands

,though it has no

rhyme in the manuscr ipt , is perfect ly leg ible. At the c lose of the stanza the manu

script reads firstby Christ I deem

Thou canst not b e the

0 Christ I deemThou canst not sure ly b e the same as thou d idst seem

as be ing fina l ly a ltered to tha t. There are no turned commas at the end of the

stanza in Kea ts 's ed it ion .

(XV I I ) I n the manuscr ipt , l ines 1 to 4 read

I wi l l not harm her,by the grea t S t . Pau l ;

Swear'

th Porphyro ,0 may I ne

’

er find grace

When myweak vo ice sha l l unto heaven ca llI f one of her soft r ing le ts I

I n l ine 2 Swear’

th has been subst ituted for Says. The s ixth line orig inal ly stoodthus

and then

Good Ange la ,thou hearest how I swear

but this is cance l led for the read ing of the text.


When myweak voice shall whisper its las t prayer ,I f one of her soft r ingle ts I displace ,Or look with rufiian pass ion in her faceGood Ange la ,

be l ieve me by these tears ;Or I wi ll , even in a moment’s space ,

Awake , wi th horrid shout , my foemen’s ears ,

And beard them ,though they be more fang

’

d than wolves and bears .

XVI I I .Ah why wi l t thou affright a feeble soul ?A poor , weak , pa lsy- s tricken , churchyard thing ,

Whose pass ing-Fel l may ere the m idnight tol l ;Whose prayers for thee , each mom and evening ,

Were never miss’d .

” Thus pla ining , doth she bringA gentler spe ech from burning Porphyro ;So woful , and of such deep sorrowing ,

That Angela gives prom ise she wi l l doWhatever he shal l wish , betide her weal or woe .

XIX .

Which was , to lead him , in close secrecy ,Even to Made l ine’s chamber , and there hide

éxvu l ) Cance l led manuscr ipt read ing ,

morningr fo r midnlght in l ine 3. I n l ine6 tone] is wr itten over Porphyr o as if Keats we re sti l l in doubt which name his

he ro shou ld bear. I n l ine 7 the manus cr ipt reads g ent le for woful ; and the end of

the stanza orig ina l ly stood thus :That the o ld Be ldam p rom ises to doWha teve r he sha l l say,

bet ide he r wea l or woe .

D ame is substituted for B e ldam, and the end of l ine 8 is struck out ; b ut nothing issupplied in its p lace .

(XI X) Cance l led manuscript read ings ,of l ine I ,

Which was,as a ll who ever lov'

d wi l l guess ,and in l ine 2 g uide for lead . Line 4 stands thus in the manuscript

H im in a C lose t if such one there b eand l ine 5 opens with Or instead of And. I n l ine 6 r ound her pil low fl ew is cance lled in favour ofpla ced the Cover let,while in l ine 8 0 Wher e gives p lace to N ever

,

and in l ine 9 the demons to his D emon . H unt says,Wha t he means by Me rl in’

s‘monstrous debt ,’ I cannot say. M erl in

,the famous enchanter, obta ined King

Arthur his interview with the fair I ogerne ; but though the son of a devi l,and con

versant with the race,I am aware of no debt tha t he owed them . Did Kea ts sup

pose tha t he had so ld him se lf l ike Faustus I do not see the comm enta tor'

s

d ifficu l ty : the monstrous debt wa s his monstrous existence,which he owed to a

d emon and repa id when he d ied or d isappea red through the working of one o f hisown spe l ls by V iviane . I t seem s p robable that , o f the many sources from wh ichKea ts m ight have acquired his knowledge of Mer lin

,D unlop '

s H istory of Fiction


The dame return’d , and whisper

’d in his ear

To fol low her ; wi th aged eyes aghas tFrom fright of dim espia l . Safe at las t ,Through many a dusky gal lery , they ga inThe ma iden’s chamber , s ilken ,

hush’d , and chasteWhere Porphyro took covert , pleas’d amain .

His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain.

XXII .H er falt’ring hand upon the balus trade ,Old Angela was feel ing for the s ta ir ,When Made l ine , St . Agnes

’ charmed maid,Rose , l ike a mission

’d spiri t , unawareWith s i lver taper’s l ight , and p ious care ,dim

l

espia l is substituted for wha t seems to have been airy vision . Line 6 stood

orig ina l lyThrough lone liest pas sages and they gain’

d,

came and r each,each be ing subst ituted in turn for g ain

'

d,and the line being at

length le ft so as to read

Through lone ly oaken Ga l le ries theyLine 8 firs t stood

There in a panting covert to remain

and thenWhere he in panting covert must rema in,

must be ing a ltered to wil l ; b ut the read ing of the text not be ing supp l ied. For the

Alexandr ine there a re seve ra l a ttempts , as thusUpon the

Love , purga toryFrom purgatory sweet to view love

’

s own domain.

I n purgatory swee t to wha t may he atta in.

There is no trace in the manuscript of the Alexandrine of the text.(XX I I ) Cance l led openings

ThereS carce had old Ange la the S ta ircase foundEre Made l ine , l ike an afl

’

righted B irdFlew pa stS carce ly

Before these we re s truck out, Swan was substitu ted for Bir d. Line I was writtenW ith faultring hand upon the Ba l lus trade

and l ines 4 to 6 appear first asRose l ike a sp irit to her unawareAnd with her taper’s l ight and gentle care

She turu’

d and led the aged gossipthe read ing of the text be ing ,

howeve r , subs tituted a ll b ut the word pious for g ent le .

I n l ine 8 Porphyr o s tands cance lled in favour of Lionel , and we read a g a zing ,not

f or g a zing . The word ag ain in l ine 9 was an afterthought.


She turn’d , and down the aged goss ip led

To a safe leve l matt ing . Now prepare ,

Young Porphyro , for ga zing on tha t bed ;She comes , she comes aga in , l ike r ing-dove fray’d and fled.

XXI I I .Out went the taper as she hurr ied in ;I ts l i t tle smoke , in pa ll id moonshine , diedShe clos

’d the door , she panted , all akin

To spirits of the air, and vis ions wide

No uttered syllable , or , woe be tide !But to her heart , her heart was voluble ,Paining wi th e loquence her ba lmy s ide ;As though a ton eless nih t in a le should swe l l

H er throat in va in , and die , heart -stifled , in her dell .

XXIV .

A casem ent high and triple - arch’d there wa s ,All garlanded wi th carven imag

’ries

(XX I I I ) The m anuscript shows no var ia t ion in th is wonderfu l stanza t il l we cometo the A lexandrine ,

origina l ly , I think , written as a l ine of ba llad me tre

H er barren throa t in va in and die hea rt-stifl ed in ber ~de l lbar r en and in vain have both been cance l led

,b ut in vain has been re inserted .

H unt says of the second l ine,This is a ve rse in the taste o fChauce r

,ful l ofm inute

grace and truth . The smoke of the wax tape r seem s a lmost as e theria l and fa ir asthe moonlight , and both su it each other and the hero ine . But what a love ly l ine isthe seventh

,about the hea rt ,Pa ining with e loquence her ba lmy s ide

And the nightinga le how touching the s im i le ! the heart a ‘tongue le ss n ightinga le ,

’

dying in the b ed o f the bosom . What thorough swee tness, and perfect ion of love lyimagery ! H ow one de l icacy is heap ed upon anothe r ! But for a burst of r ichne ss

,

no ise le ss,coloured , suddenly enriching the moonl ight , as if a door of heaven we re

opened ,read the stanza that fo l lows .

”

(XX I V) This sump tuous pa ssage occupied the poet’

s care very considerably.The fol lowing open ing stands cance l led in the manuscript

A Casement tripple a rch’d and d iam onded

W ith m any co loured g la ss fronted the Moon

I n m idst w [h] e reof a shi

Le] lded scutcheon shed

H igh blushing gu le s ; s e knee led sa intly downAnd inly p rayed for gra ce and heavenly boon ;

The blood red gu les fe l l on her s i lver crossAnd her white h ands devou t.

I n l ine 3 of this , of whieh s tands cance l led in favour of wer eof ; and line 4 origina l lybegan with H ig h bl a shing g u les upon . A se cond fresh sta rt isThere was a Casem ent tripp le arch 'd and high

Of frui ts , and flowers , and bunches of knot-grass ,And diamonded wi th panes of qua int dev i ce ,

Innumerable of s ta ins and splendid dyes ,As are the tiger-moth’s deep-damask

’

d wings ;And in the m ids t , ’mong thousand he raldries ,And twi l ight sa ints , and dim emb la z onings ,

A shielded scutcheon b lush’d wi th blood of queens and

XXV .

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon ,

And threw warm gule s on Made l ine’s fa ir breas t ,As down she kne l t for heaven’

s grace and boon ;All ar landed with ca rven image ries

Of fru ts and trailing flowe rs and sunny cornbefore this was rejected the th ird l ine wa s amended thus

Of frui ts and flowe rs and sunny corn ea rs parch dI presume Kea ts not iced tha t corn did not rhyme wi th high ,

and m eant to transpose

the firs t l ine thusThere was a casement high and triple a rch d

b ut the re is no tra ce of this in the manusc rip t. I n the s tanza as fina l ly Writtenthere is the fo l lowing cance l led read ing o f l ines 6 &c .

As is the wing o f evening tiger mothsAnd in the m idst

’

mong many he ra ldrie sAnd dim

Before the p resent t iger-moth l ine was arrived a t,the ep ithet rich instead of deep

was tried , and deep-damasked in the manuscrip t s tands cance lled in favour of wha t,though ba re ly legible , I be lieve to b e deep sunset. Pre sumably Kea ts reverted todeep‘ dama shed when revis ing the p roofs ; and it is ce rta inly the happ ie st expre ss ionimag inable . Of this supreme re su lt of poe tic labour H unt says

, Cou ld a ll the

pomp and graces of a ristoc racy, wi th T itian'

s and Raphae l 's aid to boot , go beyondthe rich re l igion of th is p ic ture ,

with its ‘twilight saints ,’ and its ‘

scutcheons blushing wi th the b lood of que ens P(XXV) Line 2 origina l ly s tood thus

And th rew r ich gules on Made l ine ’

s fa ir fa ceb ut wa r m was subst ituted for r ich

,and aga in r ich for wa r m

,and br east for face .

Keats must have reve rted to wa rm when the p roofs came . I n l ine 3 the m anu

script reads hneel ’d for knel t ; and there a re the fo l lowing cance lled read ings of

l ine 4T ing ing he r p ious hands together p rest ,Tin ing with red he r hands toge the r p re st ,Anc?rose bloom on her hands toge the r p re st.

I n l ine 7 the m anuscrip t reads silvery ang el for spl endid ang e l , and there is a can

ce l led read ingShe seem

’

d l ike an immorta l a [h ]ge l dres t .I n l ine 8 , aga in , Porphyr o is s truck out and Lionel subs t ituted ; and l ine 9 reads

She kne lt too pure a thing ,too free from m orta l ta int .

H unt’

s comment runs thus The love ly and innocent creature , thus praying unde r

E VE OF S T. AGNES .

Unclasps her warmed jewe ls one by one ;Loosens her fragrant boddice ; by degreesH er rich a ttire creeps rust l ing to her kneesH a lf-hidden , l ike a merma id in sea -weed ,Pens ive awhile she dreams awake , and sees ,

I n fancy , fa ir S t . Agnes in her bed ,

But dares not look behind , or all the charm is fled.

XXVI I .Soon ,

trembl ing in her soft and chilly nest ,I n sort of wakefu l swoon , perplex

’d she lay,

But soon his he art revive s her p raying doneOf a ll its wreathed pearls her ha ir she str ips

Unclasps her warm ed jewe ls one by oneLoosens her fragrant boddice ; and down s lipsH e r swee t

Then Anon seems to have been subst ituted for B u t soon in l ine nér ees for strips in

line 2, and the words and down sl ips in line 4 were struck out for t e read ingto her knee s

H er swee t att ire fa lls l ight.T henfal ls light gi ve s p la ce to cr eeps down by,

which probably ind ica tes tha t the

coup let contemp lated wasUnc lasps her frag rant boddice : to her knee sH er swee t a tt ire creeps down by s low degrees

but then a ll is abandoned for the reading o f the text , excep t tha t the word rich is

not here in the manus cript. Of the next l ines there is a cance ll ed read ing ,

H a lf hidden l ike a Syren of the sea

And more

and the seventh l ine in the manuscript is

She stands awhile in dreamy thought andI n l ine 9 fl ed is struck out and dead subst ituted ; bu tfled must have been re insta tedwhen the proofs came . H unt remarks , H ow true and cord ia l

,the war medjewe ls ,’ and wha t ma tter of fact a lso ,

made e legant , in the ru st l ing downward o f the

a tt ire ; and the m ixture of dre ss and undre ss , and of the d isheve l led ha ir , l ikened toa

‘m erm a id in sea -weed ! But the next stanza is perhaps the mos t exquis ite inthe poem .

"

(XXV I I ) There a re the fol lowing reje cted openings in the manuscriptThen stepp ing forth she

The cha rm fl ed not she did not look behind,

and of l ine 2 the se read ingsShe lay and had not seen

She lay and t i l l the popp ied warm th ofShe lay in sort o fwake fu l swoon pe rp lext

Line 7 origina l ly began with Shut [ the a M issa l,which was a l te red firs t to Like a

shut M issa l,then to Lihe a clasp

'

a'M issa l

,and then to Cla s

’

d lihe a m issa l . Line8 orig ina l ly began with D ead to ; and in l ine 9 sha t

,whic was firs t written,

wa s

struck out for close and close was again struck ou t for shut. H unt comments thus


Until the poppied warmth of s leep oppress’d

H er soothed l imbs , and sou l fatigued away ;Flown ,l ike a thought , unti l the morrow-day ;

B l issfully haven’d both from joy and pa in ;Clasp

’d l ike a m issal where swart Paynims pray ;

B l inded a l ike from sunshine and from ra in ,

As though a £93 9 should shut , and be a bud aga in.

XXVI I I .S tol’n to th is paradise , and so entranced ,Porphyro gaz ’d upon her empty dress ,And l isten’d to her breathing , if i t chancedTo wake into a s lumberous tenderness ;Which when he heard , that m inute did he bless ,And breath

’d himse lf : then from the closet crept ,

No ise less as fear in a wide wi lderness ,And over the hush’d carpe t , s i lent , s tept ,

And ’tween the curta ins peep’d , where , 10 how fast

Can the beaut ifu l go beyond this ? I never saw it. And how the imageryr ises ! Flown l ike a thoug ht Bl issfu lly haven ’

d C lasp’

d l ike a m issa l in a landof P ag ans; that is to say, where Christian prayer books mus t not b e seen

,and are

,

therefore,doubly cherished for the d anger. And then ,

a lthough nothing can sur

pass the prec iousness of this idea ,is the idea of the beaut ifu l

,crown ing a ll

B linded a l ike from sunshine and from ra in,

As thoug h a r ose should shut,and be a bad ag ain .

Thus it is that poetry , in its intense sympa thy wi th crea t ion , may b e sa id to create

anew, rende r ing its words more imp re ss ive than the obje cts they speak of, and ind ividua l ly more last ing ; the sp iritua l perpetu ity putting them on a leve l (not toSpeak it p rofane ly) with the fugit ive compound .

XXV I I I ) The manuscr ipt has the fo l lowing cance lled passage s before the stanzastarts fa irly

H er s lumbrousThe l istening Porphyro her breathing heardAnd

The entranced Porphyro sto l’n to Parad ise .

Line 5 orig ina l ly stood unfinishedWhich when he heard he b reath’

d

Of l ine 7 another vers ion isNo ise less a s Fear am id a wi lde rness

,

and l ine 8 seem s to have been m eant td read

And o’er the s i lent carpe t hushing stept ,

before the reading of the text was g iven. I n l ine 9 the manuscript reads and for

282 EVE OF S T. AGNES .

XXIX .

Then by the bed-s ide , where the faded moonMade a dim , s ilver twi l ight , soft he se t

A table , and , ha lf anguish’

d , threw thereonA cloth of woven crimson , gold , and jet :O for some drowsy Morphean amulet !The boisterous , m idnight , fest ive clarion ,

The ke t tle-drum , and far- heard clarionet ,Aflmy his ears , though but in dying tone :

The hal l door shuts aga in , and a ll the noise is gone .

XXX .

And stil l she s lept an azure - l idded s leep ,

I n blanched linen, smooth , and lavender‘d ,

(XX I X) I n the manuscrip t, the first th ree l ine s read thusThen b y the b ed s ide whe re the fad ing Moon

Made an i l lumed twi l igh t soft he se t

A Table , and with anguish spreadand there is a cance l led read ing of l ine 3

A Table l igh t, and sti l ly threwI n l ine 6 the re are cance l led read ings ,

Cla rions of the feas t and Cla rions of the B aflforfestive clar ion ; and l ine 7 orig ina lly began wi th

Sounded though fa int and far away,a lte red to Sound in his ea r s . before the read ing o f the text was inse rted

,in which,

by the bye , we read clar inet not cla rionet. For l ine 8 the m anuscript readsAffray his e ars though b ut in fa inte st tone ;

and the re are cance l led read ings , Af r ayd ,and with fo r in

, and Rea ch’

d his sear’

d

ear s . I n l ine 9 the re are reje c ted read ings shut and was for shuts and is.

(XXX ) Line 4 orig ina lly began with Of candied sweets,a lte red to Of candied

fr uits be fore the read ing o f the text was supp l ied . I n lineI,the manuscript reads

cr eamed cur d,which has been subs tituted for daisy cur d. ine 6 orig ina l ly read

syr ups smooth with cinnamon b ut smooth is cance lled in favour of tinct ; and ofthe next passage the re a re the fo l lowing rejec ted read ings

And sugar'

d da te s from

And suga r’

d da tes tha t 0 er Euphra tes fa redAnd manna m ead

And sugar’

d da tes and manna mead transfe rred

I n B rigant ine from Fe z

Manna and da te s in Brigant ineThe word a rg osy to comple te the read ing of the text is supp l ied in the marg in. I nl ine 9 two adjec tives a re cance l led be fore the happy ep ithe t s zlhen is arrived a t

wea lthy and ano the r word o f wh ich I cannot make anything b ut quilted unle ss indeed it b e g uilded for g ilded. For the purpose of imp lying richness

, quilted is

not an inconce ivable expre ss ion ; for if s i lk b e r ich qui lted s i lk is r iche r ; andKeats was as capable of writ ing a fa r-fetched word as he was of s tri king it out on

EVE OF S T. AGNES .

And now, my love , my seraph fa ir , awake !Thou art my heaven , and I thine erem i te :Open thine eyes , for meek St . Agnes’ sake ,

Or I shall drowse bes ide thee , so my soul doth ache .

”

XXXI I .Thus whispering , his warm , unnerved armSank in her pi l low. Shaded was her dreamBy the dusk curta ins ’twas a m idnigh t charmImposs ible to melt as iged st_r__eam

The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam ;Broad golden fringe upon the carpe t l ies :I t seem’d he never , never could redeemFrom such a s tedfast spe ll his lady’s eyes ;

So mus’d awhile , entoil’d in woofed phantas ies .

XXXI I I .Awakening up , he took her hollow lute ,

Tumul tuous , and , in chords tha t tenderes t be ,d isturb the lustr ous so lver s of the next stanza . Lines 4 &c . in the manuscript wereorig ina l ly written

Am id the qu ie t of S t . Agnes ’ n ightAnd now

,saith he

,my Seraph with pe rfume light

And l ine is left stand ing so in the manuscript , while the rest gives p lace to trea d ing 0 the text . The re is a rejected read ing of l ine 6

And now sa ith he my S eraph m ay awake.

(XXX I I ) There is a cance lled opening in the manus cript giving s leep for dr eamat the end of l ine 2

,and dr eam less of a la rm a s the end of line 3 ; and another g ive s

shaded wer e her dr eams in l ine 2 , in which the manuscript reads Sunh for sanh.

Of line 6 there is a rejected vers ion ,unfinished

,

Broad go lden fr inge l ies wea lthy on the(probablyfl oor was the unfinished word) ahd in l ine 9 stood stands cance l led infavour of mus

'

d .

(XXX I I I ) I n l ine 5 he he ld and he touched stand cance l led in the manuscript ifavour of touching ; and in l ine 7 the re is a rejec tfor she panted quick. The manuscr ipt reads ha t/

(fl ayed for af rayed in l ine 8 ,an

sunh for sanh in l ine 9 . H unt te lls us in The I ndicator for the l oth of May 1 85

that Kea ts’

s wonderfu l poem La B el le D ame sans M er cy,was suggested b seen

that tit le at the head o f a trans la t ion from Ala in Chart ie r , a t the end of C auce

works . The conce it of connecting the t i tle here with a lost Provenca l air is a t tsame time grea t ly im agina tive and on ly a little le ss p layful than H unt

’

s wish tiA la in m i

ght have seen Kea ts

’s ve rses , be cause H e wou ld have found a Trout

dour air or them,and sung them to La Be l le D ame Agnes Sore l , who was he

ever not Sans M e rcy.

E VE OF ST. AGNES . 285

H e play’d an ancient ditty , long s ince mute ,

I n Provence cal l’d , La be lle dame sans mercy °”

Close to her ear touching the me lodyWherewi th disturb’d , she utter

’d a soft moan .

H e ceas’d she panted quick— and suddenly

H er blue afl'

rayed eyes wide open shone :

Upon his knees he sank , pale as smooth-sculptured stone

XXXIV .

-H er eyes were open , but she stil l behe ld ,Now wide awake , the

. vis ion of her s leepThere was a pa inful change , that nigh

'

expell’d

The blisses of her dream so pure and deepAt which fair Madel ine began to weep ,

And moan forth wi tless words wi th many a s igh ;While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep ;Who knelt , wi th joined hands and pi teous eye ,

Fearing to move or speak , she look’d so dream ingly .

XXXV .

Ah , Porphyro sa id she , but even now

Thy voice was at swee t tremble in mine ear ,

Made tuneable wi th every swee tes t vow ;And those sad eyes were spiri tua l and clear

(XXX I V) Line 2 was origina l ly writtenThe vis ion of her s leep ,

now wide awakethe transposition is ma rked in the manuscript , where ,

in l ine 3,somepainful chang e

stands a ltered to a painful chang e. Line 5 origina l ly began with At which she , a t

in line 6 the manuscript reads little wor ds,though witless is written by way o f

m emorandum in the margin. Line s 8 and 9 read

Who with an aching brow and p iteous eye "it"

Feared to move or speak she looked so dream ing ly.(XXXV) There are two ha lf cance l led openings ,

At length she speaks , Ah Porphyro here

Ah Porphyro , sa ith she but evenand no comp lete l ine is supp l ied in the manuscr ipt. I n l ine 2 by is cance l led infavour of in ; and the manuscr ip t read s by fo r with in l ine 3, thy hind eyes for those

sad eyes in l ine 4 ,and a [r ] t thou for thou a r t in l ine 5. Compare the first quatrain

with A M idsummer -N ig ht s D r eam (Act I , Scene I , lines 1 83—4 )Your eyes are lode-sta rs and your tongue ’

s swee t air

More tuneable than lark to shepherd ’

s ear


H ow chang’d thou art ! how pal lid , ch ill , and drear !

G ive me that voice aga in, my Porphyro ,

Those looks immorta l , th compla inings dear !Oh leave me not in this eternal woe ,

For if thou diest , my Love , I knownot where to go .

”

XXXVI .Beyond a mortal man impassion’d farAt these voluptuous accents , he arose ,

E thereal , flush’d , and l ike a throbbing star‘

Seen mid the sapphire heaven’s deep repose ;Into her dream he melted , as the ros e

Blendeth its odour wi th the viole t ,8‘ Solut ion swee t : meantime the fros t-wind blowsLike Love’s alarum pattering the sharp s lee t

Aga ins t the window-

panes ; St . Agnes’moon ha th

XXXV I I .’Tis dark : quick pattereth the flaw-blown s lee tThis is no dream , my bride , my Made l ine ! ”

’Tis dark : the iced gus ts s till rave and bea tNo dream , a las ! alas ! and woe is mine

(XXXV I ) Line I was orig ina l ly wri tten thusI mpassion

’

d fa r beyond a morta l man

but the transpos it ion is marked in the manus cript]

. I n l ine 2 words for accents

stands cance lled . Line 4 origina lly began with as either,as if the magnificent

third l ine was a t firs t intended to re fe r to Po rphyro’

s eyes like a throbbing star

was e ither eye .

” With her hright dr eam and I n her hrig ht dr eam are rejectedread ings for I nto her dr eam . I n l ine 6 the manuscript reads he r odour

,and or igi

na l ly read her perfume. For l ine 7 the re is a fa lse s ta rt, And are one , and for line 8

anothe r, D arkness . L ine 9 orig ina l ly opened with Ag ains t the Casement loom,

success ive ly a ltered to Windows g loom , Casement dar k, and Windows dar the

l ine fina l ly standsAga inst the window dark . S t. Agnes moon

'

had set .

The read ing of the text is not in the manuscript. A ainst the words Beyond a

mor ta l man, H unt makes the note M ade l ine is ha lf awa e

,and Porphyro reassures

her with loving ,kind looks

,and an affe ctiona te embra ce . I cannot but think that

in this one instance the commentator is very dec ided ly a t fau lt, and that no embraceis referred to in the stanza .

(XXXV I I ) The manuscript reads stil l for quick in l ine I . The word Ah standscance l led a t the beg inning of l ine 6. L ine 8 was or ig ina l ly wr itten as in the text ;b utfor sakest stands cance l led ,

in favour of shoulds t leave /for saken, ofwhich readingthe word s shoulds t leave a re a lso struck out. Line 9 ha s the word To cance l led a t

the beg inning , and the rejected reading A silent mateless dove.


Arise arise ! the morning is at hand ;The bloa ted wassaillers wi ll never heedLet us away , my love , with happy speed ;There are no ears to hear , or eyes to see ,

D rown’d all in Rhenish and the s leepy mead

Awake ! arise ! my love , and fearless be ,For o

’er the southern moors I have a home for thee .

”

She hurr ied at his words , bese t with fear ,a For there were s leep ing dragons a ll around ,Ar ise my Love. For l ine 6 there is a fa lse start

,Over the moor s. Line 7 orig ina l ly

ended with the dr ench of mead ,a lte red to the dr enching mead before the happ ier

reading of the text was supp l ied . The las t two l ines stand thus in the manuscriptPut on wa rm cloa thin swee t , and fearless be

Over the da rtmoor bl [efak I have a hom e for thee .

There is a cance l led read ing, Over the bleak D artmoor b ut for which one m ightnot have fe lt perfect ly certain that da r tmoor blak (with a sma n a llusmnto tha t moor where in the r iver D art takes its rise

, and whio’

4 see fromTe ignmouth in looking up the Es tua ry of the Teign .

(XL) I n l ine 2,about stands cance l led for ar ound in tb

'

and l ine 3was first wri tten thus

an

Or pe rhaps at g laring watch wit h to "

.

but the read ing of the text is substituted . Wel l is s trdosis . a! me begi’

nrwg of line

gand in line 5not a is struck out and hear d nowritten Ins t e ad . Then then . .s muchtidiousness in the ma tter of going on

,as thus

Though everyBut no ise ofWinds besieg ing the highBut the

But the bes iegingThe Lamps we re fl ickering dea th shades on the wallsW ithout , the Tempe st kept a ho l lowThe Lamps were fl icke ring .

The Lamps were dyingBut he re and the re a Lamp was fl ickeringA droop ing Lamp was fl ickering he re and the re .

All these read ings are rejected ,and the stanza then proceeds to the end without

further e rasures except the word fiutter ’

d after ar r as in l ine 7 ,and with cold afte r

Flu tter'

d in l ine 8 . H unt obse rves upon the A lexandrine This is a s lip of the

memory,for the re we re hard ly carpets in those days . But the truth of the pa inting

makes amends , as in the unchrono logica l p ictures of o ld mas te rs . M r. D ante

Gabrie l Rossetti , in s im i lar c ircum s tances in his magnificent ba llad of The King’

s

fl ag cdy, has avo ided the unchrono log ica l fl aw thus :And now the lad ies fl ed with the Que en ;And thorough the open door

The night-wind wa i led round the empty room

And the rushes shook on the floor .

E VE OF ST. AGNES . 289

At glaring watch , perhaps , wi th ready spearsDown the wide sta irs a darkling way they found .

I n a ll the house was heard no human sound .

A cha in-droop’d lamp was fl ickering by each door ;

The arras , r ich with h’

orseman , hawk , and hound ,Flutter’d in the bes ieg ing Wind’s uproar ; p

And the long carpets rose a long the gus ty floor .

XLI .

They gl ide , l ike phantoms , into the wide hall ;Like phantoms , to the I ron porch , they gl ide ;Where lay the Porter , in uneasy sprawl ,With a huge empty flaggon by his s ideThe wakeful bloodhound rose , and shook his hide ,But his sagacious eye an inmate OwnsBy one , and one , the bolts full easy s l ideThe cha ins lie s ilent on the footworn s tones

The key turns , and the door upon its hinges groans .

XLI I .{2 l bb d l u ifw

Andnzt y are {5&a fir

e , ages long agoThé se ov fledw aa y into

b the s torm .

(XLI ) Lines I and 2 were first written thusLike Sp irits into the wide-

paven ha l lThey g l ide ,—and to the iron porch in haste ;

but the read ing of the text is supp l ied in the manuscript. I n line 3, s lept l S sub stiotuted for lay,

and lay aga in for s lept . The manuscript reads beaker for j agg an.

For l ine 6 was origina l ly written 1

And paced round Made l ine a ll angerless ,But with a ca lmed eye his m istress owns ,

and then the read ing o f the text except that unang er’

d has the p lace of sag a cious,which does not appear in the manuscr ipt a t a ll. Of l ine 7 the re is a rejected open

ing,The chains a r e loos

’

d,

and aga in a reje cted c losethe easy bolts back s lide

S i lent.Line 8 was orig ina l ly

Upon the pavement lie the heavy cha insand in the l ine of the text as wr itten lay stand s for lie.

(XLI I ) Lines I to 6 were a t first wr itten thusAnd they a re gone—Aye ,

ages long ago

These lovers fl ed into a night of storm s

That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe


That night the M P dreamt of many a woe ,

And all his warrior-guests , wi th shade and formOf wi tch , and demon , and large coflin~worm ,

Were long be-nightmar’d . Ange la the old

D ied palsy- twitch’d , wi th meag’

Fé’

face deform ;The Beadsman , after thousand aves told ,

For aye unsought for slept among hisfi res cold .

And a l l his warrior Guests with shade s and formsOfWitches

,D eamons

,and large cohin worms

Were long b enigh [t]mared. Ange la ne '

e r

Line 2 is left unfinished,as it nig ht of is struck out and the stor m (P) inserted but

the second word cance l led .‘ I n l ine 3 ui ht is struck out in favour of Mor n ; but

M or nwas rejec ted and night re stored , oub tless,when in revis ing the proof night

wa s removed from l ine 2 . I n l ine 5 charna l stands cance l led for cofin. I n l ine 6long is cance l led and a l l left standing in its p lace ; and for the rest the manuscriptis revised to correspond wi th the s tanza as g iven in the text. H unt

’

s last word isH ere endeth the young and d i vine Poe t

,but not the de light and gratitude of

his readers ; for, as he s ings e ls ewhereA thing of beautyis a joy for ever.

”

29 2 POEMS PUBLI SH ED WI TH LAM I A , ETC. , 1 820.

Of beechen green , and shadows numberless ,Singest of summer in ful l - throa ted ease .

a

O , for a draught of vintage ! that hath beenGool’d a long age in the deep- de lved earth ,

Tas ting of Flora and the country green ,

D ance ,and Provenca l song , and sunburnt mirth !

O for a beaker full of the warm South ,Ful l of the true , the blushfu l H ippocrene ,With beaded bubbles winking at the brim ,

And purple-s ta ined mouth ;That I m ight dr ink , and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the fores t dim :

3.

Fade far away, dissp lve , and qui te forgetWhat thou among the leaves li’af'st’

never known,

The weariness , the fever , and the fre tH ere , where men sit and hear each other groan ;

(2) OfKeats ’

s partiali for c la ret enough and too much has been made ; butwith his de lightful l ist of eside ra ta given to his s iste r in a le tte r

,now be fore m e

, it

is imposs ib le to res ist c iting as a prose para l le l to these two splend id lines of poe try:the words

, and, p lease heaven,

a litt lezc lare t wine coo l out of a ce llar a m i le deep ’

—with a few or a good many ratafia cake s.

”I n the first l ine of this stanza the

manuscript and the Anna ls read has for hath ,in the s ixth tr ue and blushfiil ; and

bo th are without the word away which,in the subsequent version published with

Lamia &c . , make s the fina l line of this stanza an Alexandrine . I do not think thec ircumstances wa rrant the reduct ion of this wonderfu l l ine to the metr ic standardof the rest , a lbe it Lord H oughton has been taken to task for leaving it in its love llness . The evidence of one manuscrip t and one rinted text

,espec ial ly when an

other manuscr ipt certa inly ex isted though not fort com ing ,is insuffic ient. To me

the introduction of the word away in the vers ion fina l ly given forth by Keats is tooredolent of genius to pass for a mere acc ident. The perfect ion thus lent to theecho Opening the next stanza excee ds a thousand t imes I n va lue the regula rity gotby dropp ing the word ; and tha t one l ine with its l ingering

motive has amp le reasonto be longer than any other in the poem . H unt must ave been fam i liar enoughwith the poem before it was embodied in the Lamia vo lume ; and it is more thanossib le that he knew a ll about the history of tha t one word ’

s introduction. The re

ore it is worth while to se t down as e xte rna l evidence that when he quoted the

poem entire in The I ndicator and aga in when he printed it in I mag ination andFancy ,

he gave the author 's las t copy that preference which a textua l crit ic is

bound togive

(3) I n t e third stanza the manuscript reads have for ha st in line 2 and other'

s

for other in l ine 4 ; but the Anna l s reads as in the text of 1 820. The s ixth line veryc lear ly bears out H aydon’

s words connecting the sadness of the poem with the

ODE To A N I GH TI N GALE . 29 3

Where palsy shakes a few, sad , last gray ha irs ,y Where youth grows pale , and spectre- thin , and dies ;Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden-ey’d despa irs ,Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes ,

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

4 .

Away ! away ! for I wi ll fly to thee ,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards ,But on the viewless wi of Po

_esy ,Thoughm fixes and retardsready with thee ! teh‘

défi s

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne ,Cluster

’

d around by al l her s tarry Fays ;But here there is

Save what from heaven is with the bree zes blownThrough verdurous glooms and winding mossy

5.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet ,Nor wha t soft incense hangs upon the boughs ,

But , in embalmed darkness , guess each swee t i. th a t .“

Wherewi th the seasonable month endowsThe grass , the thicket , and the frui t- tree wi ld ;White hawthorn , and the pastoral eglantine ;Fas t fading viole ts cover’d up in leaves ;

And mid-May’s eldes t child ,“ I

The com ing musk-rose , ful l of , dewy Wine ,The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves .

Darkl ing I l is ten ; and , for many a timeI have been ha lf in love wi th easeful D eath ,

death of Tom Kea ts,and shou ld b e compared with the passage about his s ister in

the letter to Brown written from Rome on the 3oth of November,1 820,

mys ister—who wa lks about my imag inat ion l ike a ghost she is so l ike Tom . I n

the sam e letter he says it runs in my head we sha l l a l l die young .

5) I n the las t l ine but one of this stanza , both the m anuscript and the Anna lsread sweetest wine.

(6) Compare with the second l ine She l ley’

s words in the Preface to Adonais , I t

29 4 P OEMS PUBLI SH ED WI TH LAM I A , E TC. , 1 820.

Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme ,To take into the air my quie t breath ;Now more than ever seems i t r ich to die ,

To'

c

"

easeupon the m idnight wi th no pa in,

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroadI n such an ecs tasy !

S t il l woulds t thou s ing , and I have ears I n vainTo thy high requiem become a sod .

7 .

Thou was t not born for death , immortal B ird !No hungry generations tread thee down ;The voice I hear this pass ing night was heardI n ancient days by emperor and clown :

Perhaps the se lf- same song that found a pathThrough the sad heart of Ruth , when , s ick for home,She s tood in tears am id the a l ien corn ;

The same that oft- times ha thCharm

’d magi c casements , opening on the foamOf peri lous seas , in faery lands forlorn.

8 0

b Forlorn ! the very word is l ike a bel lTo toll me back from thee to my sole se lf !

m ight make one in love with dea th to think that one shou ld be buried in so sweet a

p lace .

”I n l ine 7 of this stanza , bo th the manuscript and the Anna l s read thus for

j b r th ,and line 1 0 is as fo l lows :

For thy high requiem ,become a sod.

(7 ) I n the last l ine of this stanza the word fairy instead of faery stands in themanuscript and in the Anna ls b ut the Lamia vo lume reads faery , which enhancesthe poet ic va lue of the l ine in the subt lest manner —e l im ina t ing a ll poss ible con

nexion of fairy- land with Christma s trees , tinse l , and Santa C laus , and carrying theimagina tion safe ly ba ck to the m idd le ages— to Amadis of Gaul

,to P a lmer in of

E ng land,and above a l l to the East , to the Thousand and One Nig hts . I t seems to

m e unl ike ly that anypart icu lar story is referred to ,though the re a re doubtless many

stories tha t wi l l answer more or less nearly to the as sage .

(8) I n the manuscript and in the Anna ls,there 5 a note of exc lamat ion after d]

in the fourth l ine . I n the manuscript the last two l ines are pointed thusWas it a vision or a wak ing dream

Fled is that mus ic do I wake -

or s leep.

I n the Annals they stand thus

296 POEMS PUBLI SH ED WI TH LAM/A, ETC ,

H eard me lodies are swee t , but t hose unheardAre swee ter ; therefore , ye soft pipes , play on ;

Not to the sensua l ear , but , more endear’d ,

P ipe to the spirit ditties of no toneFa ir youth , benea th the trees , thou canst not leave

can those trees be bare ;r , never canst thou kiss ,

Though winning near the goa l—yet , do not gr ieveShe cannot fade , though thou has t not thy bliss ,For ever wi l t thou love , and she be fair !

3.

Ah, happy , happy boughs ! that cannot shedYour leaves , nor eve r bid the Spring adieu ;

And , happy melodis t , unwearied ,For ever piping songs for ever new ;

More happy love ! more happy , happy Iovs!‘

For ever warm and s t il l to be enjoy’d ,

For ever pant ing , and for ever youngAll breathing human pas s ion far above ,

Tha t leaves a heart high-sorrowfu l and cloy’d} :A burning forehead , and a parching tongue.

’

V

4 .

Who are these com ing to the sacrifice ?To what green a l tar , O mysterious priest ,

Lead’st thou that he ifer lowing at the sk ies ,

And a ll her s ilken flanks wi th garlands dres t ?Wha t l ittle town by river or sea shore ,

Or mounta in-bui l t wi th peaceful citade l ,I s emptied of this folk , this pious morn ?

(2) Lines 5 and 6 of this stanza stand thus in the Anna lsFa ir You th , benea th the trees thou cans

’t not leave

Thy song , nor eve r bid the spring ad ieu ;and In l ine 8 both the Anna ls and the manuscript

”

read 0 do not g r ieve !

(3;I n the Anna ls l ine 2 has never in p lace 0

£0(4 The manuscript, in line 4 , reads sides in p lace offl anks and in line I Q and”r e

’

er .

OD E To PS YCH E . 29 7

And , l ittle town , thy s tree ts for evermoreWill s i lent be ; and not a soul to tellWhy thou art desolate , can e

’er return.

5

O Attic shape ! Fa ir a ttitude ! with bredeOf marble men and ma idens overwrought ,With forest branches and the trodden weed ;Thou , s i lent form , dos t tease us out of thought

As doth e te rni ty

. Cold Pastoral !

Than ours , a friend to man , to whom thou say’s t ,Beauty is truth , truth beauty ,”— tha t is a llYe know on earth , and all ye need to know.

ODE TO PSYCH E .

GODDESS hear these tuneless numbers , wrungBy swee t enforcement and remembrance dear ,

And pardon tha t thy secre ts should be sungEven into th ine own soft couched ear :

Sure] I dream t to-da or did I see 1

The winged Psyche w1 th awaken’d eyes ?

I wander’d in a fores t thoughtless ly , 0

And , on the sudden , fa inting with surprise , 1Saw two fa ir creatures , couched s ide by s ide C

(5) I n the manu scr ipt there 1 5 a comma after maidens in l ine 2,and none a fter

overwr oug ht ; b ut the p re ferab le punctua tion o f the text is in both of the pr intedvers ions . I n l ine 7 the m anuscript and the Anna ls agree in read ing wil l for sha lt.I n regard to the two fina l l ines the vers ion of the Lam ia vo lume is adop ted above .

I n the manuscript there are no turned commas ; and in the Anna ls the two l inesa re thus :

Beauty is Tru th , Tru th Beauty.—Tha t is a llYe know on Earth , and a l l ye need to know.

“

This seems to confirnU he l im ita tion of the U rn'

s m ora l to the five words ind ica tedI n the text ; and , a lthough I have not thought it worth wh i le to note a l l the variao

tions of pointing and capita lling of the Anna ls ve rs ion , I find them very chara cter«istic ofKea ts

,and sugges t ive of accurate p rinting from a fa ir manuscript of his

But for this I shou ld have been d isposed to regard the words

tha t is a l lYe know on ea rth

,and a ll ye need to know

as a part of the Urn’

s lesson,and not as the poet

’

s persona l comment. i,

29 8 POEM S P UBL I SH ED WI TH LAM I A , ETC ,1 820

.

I n deepes t grass , benea th the whisp’ring roof ‘F

Of leaves and trembled blossoms , where there ranA brookle t , scarce espied

’Mid hush’d , cool-rooted flowers , fragrant-eyed ,B lue , s i lver-white , and budded Tyrian ,

They lay calm-brea thing , on the bedded grass ;The ir arms embraced , and the ir pinions too ;The ir l ips touch’d not , but had not bade adieu,

As if disjoined by soft-handed s lumber ,And ready s til l pas t kisses to outnumberAt tender eye

-dawn of aurorean love :The winged boy I knew ;

But who was t thou , 0 happy , happy dove ?H is Psyche true !

O la tes t born and love l ies t vis ion farOf al l Olympus’ faded hierarchy !Fa irer than Phoebe’s sapph ire - region

’d s tar ,

“I,

Or Vespe r , amorous glow-worm of the sky ;VW!

r than theset‘

fhough temple thou’

hast'

none ,

Nor a ltar heap’d wi th flowers ;Nor virg in-choir to make del icious moan

Upon the m idnight hours ;No voice , no lute , no pipe , no incense swee tFrom cha in-swung censer teem ing ;

No shrine , no grove , no oracle , no heatOf pa le-mouth

’d prophe t dream ing.

O brightest ! though too late for ant ique vows ,Too ,

too late for the fond be l ieving lyre ,

Under date the 1 sth of Apri l [ 1 8 1 9 ] Kea ts writes “to Geor e and his wife

,of th is

Ode ,The fol lowing poem , the las t I have written ,

is the rst and onl one wi thwhich I have taken even mode ra te pains ; I have ,

for the mos t part , das ed off myl ines in a hurry ; th is one I have done le isure ly ; I think it reads the more r ichly forit

,and it wi l l I hope encourage m e to wr ite other things in even a mo re pea ceable

and hea lthy sp irit . You must reco lle ct that Psyche was not embod ied as a godde ss

before the t ime o f Apu le ius the Pla tonist , who l ived a fter the Augustan age ,and

consequent ly the godde ss was neve r worshipped or sacrificed to wi th any of the

anc ient fe rvour , and pe rhaps neve r though t o f in the o ld re l i ion : I am more or

thodox than to le t a hea then godde ss b e so neg lec ted . his is an instance inwhich Keats seem s to have gone beyond Lempriere

’

s C las s ica l D ic tionary for hisinforma t ion ; but I presume we may not unsafe ly take the portra iture of Cup id and

Psyche in the firs t stanza a s an adap ted rem iniscence of his o ther favourite tex tbook

, Spence’

s Polyme tis , in Plate V I of which the we l l known kiss ing Cup id and

Psyche are admirab ly engraved from the s ta tue a t Florence .

300 POEMS PUBLISH ED WI TH LAM I A , E TC. , 1 820.

Through the thought still spread beyond herOpen wide the m ind’s cage-door ,She’ll dart forth , and cloudward soar .

0 sweet Fancy ! le t her loose ;Summer

’s joys are spoi lt by use ,

And the enjoying of the Spr ingFades as does its blossom ing ;Autumn’s red- lipp

’d frui tage too ,

Blushing through the m ist and dew,

Cloys wi th tas t ing : What do then ?Sit thee by the ingle , whenThe sear faggot bla zes bright ,Spiri t of a winter’s night ;When the soundless earth is muflled ,And the caked snow is shuffledFrom the ploughboy’s heavy shoon ;When the N ight doth mee t the NoonI n a dark conspiracyTo banish Even from her sky.

Sit thee there , and send abroad ,With a m ind se lf-overaw’d ,

Fancy , high-commission’d : _ send her !She has vassals to a ttend herShe wi ll bring , in spi te of frost ,Beaut ies that the earth hath lost ;She wi ll bring thee , a ltoge ther ,Al l de l ights of summ er weather ;All the buds and bells of May,From dewy sward or thorny spray ;All the heaped Autumn’

s weal th ,With a s ti l l , mys terious s tea lth :She wi l l mix these pleasures upLike three fit wines in a cup ,

And thou shalt quafi' i t thou shal t hearD is tant harvest-carols clear ;

of S eptember 1 87 7 . The va ria tions noted be low show Kea ts's usua l good judgment in regard to change and exc lus ion.

(6) I n the manuscript this l ine isTowards heaven st i l l spread beyond he r .

(rs—1 6) I n the manuscr ipt , we read kissing in p lace of tasting ,and in an ing le for

by the ing le.

(28;Size

’

l l Iza vc,in the manuscript .

(29 The manuscript readsShe will bring thee spite of

FAN CY.

Rustle of the reaped corn ;Sweet birds anthem ing the morn

And , in the same moment hark !’Tis the early Apri l lark ,Or the rooks , wi th busy caw,

Foraging for st i cks and straw.

Thou shalt , at one glance , beholdThe da isy and the marigold ;White-plum’d l ill ies , and the firstH edge-grown pr imrose tha t hath burs t ;Shaded hyac inth , a lwaySapphire queen of the mid-May ;And every leaf, and every flowerPearled with the se lf-sam e shower .

Thou shal t see the fie ld—mouse peepMeagre from its cel led s leep ;And the snake al l winter—thinCas t on sunny bank its skin ;Freckled nest -eggs thou shal t seeH atching in the hawthorn- tree ,When the hen-bird’s wing doth restQuiet on her mossy nes t ;Then the hurry and alarmWhen the bee-hive cas ts its swarm ;Acorns r ipe down-pat tering ,

While the autumn breezes s ing .

Oh , swee t Fancy ! let her loose ;Every thing is spoi l t by use :

(43—5) I n the manuscript these l ines stand thusAnd in the same mom ent harkTo the early Apri l larkAnd the rooks with busy

I n the manuscript we read H edg e-r owpr imr ose.

I n the manuscript we read same sofl‘

slzower .

8) I n the manuscr ipt , thusAnd the snake a ll winter-shrankCast its skin on sunny

(66) There is an add itiona l coup let after th is l ine in the manuscriptFor the sam e sleek-throated mouse

To store up in its winter house .

(67 -8) I nstead of this coup let the manuscript has the fol lowing four l ines0 sweet fancy le t her loose !Every swee t is spo i lt by useEvery p lea sure every joyNot a m istre ss b ut doth

30 1

302 POEMS PUBLISH ED WI TH LAM I A , ETC. 1 820.

Where’s the cheek that doth not fade ,Too much gaz ’d at ? Where’s the ma idWhose lip mature is ever new?

Where’s the eye , however blue ,

D oth not weary ? Where’s the faceOne would mee t in every place ?Where’s the voice , however soft ,One would hear so very oft ?At a touch swee t Pleasure me lte thLike to bubbles when ra in pelteth .

Let , then , winged Fancy findThee a m is tress to thy m indDulce t- ey’d as Ceres

’ daughter ,Ere the God of Torment taught herH ow to frown and how to chide ;With a wa is t and wi th a s ideWhite as H ebe’s , when her zoneS l ipt its golden clasp , and downFell her k irtle to her fee t ,While she he ld the goble t swee t ,And Jove grew languid . Break the meshOf the Faney’s s i lken leash ;

(7 3) D oes in the manuscrip t.(7 6) The manuscript reads too of? and ofl .

(8 1 ) Prose rpin ga thering flowers ,H erse lf a fa irer flowe r , by g loomy DisWas gathered—wh ich cos t Ceres al l that pa inTo seek her through the world

P a r adise Lost, Book I V ,

l ines 269 3

7 2.

(89—9 1 ) I nstead of these three line s the manuscript has the fo l lowing seventeen

And Jove grew langu id . M istress fa ir !Thou sha lt have tha t tressed ha irAdonis tang led a ll for sp iteAnd the mouth he would not kissAnd the treasure he wou ld m iss ;And the hand he would not p ress

And the warm th he wou ld d istressO the ravishm ent the blissFancy has her— there she is !

N ever fu lsome ever newThere she s teps 1 and te l l me who

H as a m is tress so d ivine ?Be the pa la te ne

'

er so fine

She canno t s icken. Break the m eshOf the Fancy’s s i lken leashWhere she '

s tether'

d to the heartQuick break her prison

304 POEMS PUBLI SH ED WI TH LAM I A , ETC. , 1 820.

Phi losophic numbers smooth ;Ta les and golden his toriesOf heaven and its mysteries .

Thus ye l ive on high , ahd thenOn the earth ye l ive aga in ;And the souls ye left behind youTeach us , here , the way to find you,

Where your other souls a re joying ,

N ever s lumber’d , never cloying .

H ere , your earth -born souls sti ll speakTo mortals , of the ir l i ttle week ;Of the ir sorrows and del ights ;Of the ir pass ions and the ir spi tes ;Of the ir glory and the ir shame ;What doth s trengthen and wha t ma im .

Thus ye teach us , every day,Wisdom , though fled far away .

Bards of Pass ion and of Mirth ,Ye have left your souls on earth !Ye have souls in heaven too ,

D ouble -liv’d in reg ions new !

But me lod ious truth d ivinePhilosophic numbe rs

Compare M i lton’

s Comus,l ines 4 7 6- 8 ,

H ow cha rm ing is d ivine Philoso‘phyg

l

Not harsh and crabbed , as dul l cc suppose ,But musica l a s is Apo l lo'

s

(2 1 ) Cance lled read ing , Stories for Ta les.

(29 ) Cance l led read ing ,loves for souls .

(30—1 ) I n the manuscript we read

To morta ls of the l itt leWee kThey mus t sojourn

The rest of l ine 31 has had too much cut off to b e leg ib le ; b ut I do not think it canhave rhymed e ither with week or with deity/its ; and probably its rhyme lessness led

to its rej ect ion,and to the read ing of the text.

(40) The idea of the double l ife of the poe t ic sou l is not uncommon ; b ut pe r

haps the most noteworthy para l le l is to be found in the two fol lowing stanzas fromthe poem which Wordsworth wrote in 1 803 on the banks of N ith , near the t

’

s

[Burns’

s] res idence ”

(the third poem of the M emoria l s of a Tour in Scotlanagc

ze

Through bus ie st s treet and lone l ie st g lenAre fe lt the fla shes of his pen ;H e ru les '

mid winter snows , and whenBee s fi l l the ir h ive s

D eep in the genera l heart of men

His power survwes.

LI NES ON TH E MERMAI D TAVERN . 305

LINES ON TH E MERMAID TAVERN .

‘

OULS of Poe ts dead and gone ,Wha t E lys ium have ye known,

H appy field or mossy cavern ,

Choicer than the Merma id Tavern ?H ave ye tippled drink more fine

Than m ine hos t’s Canary wine ?Or are fru i ts of ParadiseSwee ter than those da inty p iesOf venison ? O generous food !D res t as though bold Robin H oodWould , with his ma id Marian ,

Sup and bowse from horn and can.

I have heard that on a dayMine host’s s ign-board flew away,Nobody knew whither , t illAn as trologer’s old qui llTo a sheepskin gave the s tory ,Sa id he saw you in your glory ,Underneath a new old- s ignS ipping beverage divine ,

And pledging wi th contented smackThe Merma id in the Zodiac .

What need of fie lds in som e far c l ime

Where H eroe s,Sages , Bards sublime

,

And a l l tha t fe tched the flowing rhym e

From genuine sprin 5,

Sha l l dwe l l toge ther ti l l o ld ime

Folds up his wings ?When Mr. Palgrave issued his beautiful Golden Tr easury he fe lt it necessary to

exp la in in connex ion With this poem that “the Merma id was the c lub-house of

Shakespeare , Ben Jonson,and o ther choice sp irits o f tha t age . Probably such an

exp lanat ion is cons iderably less nece ssary now than then. I n Sir Charles D i lke ’

s

copy ofE ndymion is a fa ir manuscrip t of this poem ,da ted 1 8 1 8, which shows the

variat ions noted be low.

(4;The manuscrip t reads Fair er for C/zoieer .

(9 The manuscript has Ola' in p lace of 0.

( 1 8- 1 9 ) I n the manuscript, Says for S aid, and new-old sign,not new old-sign as

in the first edition.

306 POEMS PUBLI SH ED WITH LAM I A, E r a , 1 820.

Souls of Poe ts dead and gone ,What E lys ium have ye known ,

H appy fie ld or mossy cavern ,

Choicer than the Merma id Tavern ?

ROB IN H OOD .‘

TO A FR I END .

0 ! those days are gone away ,And the ir hours are old and gray,And the ir m inutes buried all

Under the down- trodden pa l lOf the leaves of many yearsMany times have winter’s shears ,Frozen North , and chill ing Eas t ,Sounded tempests to the feas tOf the fores t’s whispe ring fleeces ,S ince men knew nor rent nor leases .

No , the bugle sounds no more ,

(23—6) The poem ends thus in the manuscriptSou ls of Poe ts dead and gone ,Are the winds a swee te r home

,

Richer is unce l lar'd cave rnThan the me rry Me rma id Tavern?

Of these charm ing verse s there are two extant manuscripts , one be ing appar

ently the firs t draft,corrected and a lte red in course of compos ition ,

and the o thera ve ry careful copy written a t the end o f the copy of E ndymion in Sir Char lesD i lke ’

s possess ion , a lready re fe rred to more than once . The dra ft was found bythe la te M r. S . R. Town shend Mayer among the manuscripts of Le igh H unt ; and ,

as it was written on the sam e p iece of paper with She l ley’s Sonne t to the N ile , it isnot ve ry hazardous to re fer the compos it ion to about the same da te—February1 8 1 8. Sir Char les D ilke ’

s copy of the poem is dated s imp ly and headedthus :

To John Reyno lds ,I n answer to his Robin H ood Sonne ts .

Sonnets in quest ion, published in The Gar den of Flor ence &c . wil l be

found in the Append ix. The finished manuscr ip t corresponds almost exa c tly wi ththe printed text : the draft shows cons iderable var ia t ions.

(6—7 ) Cance l led read ingMany t imes o ld W inter’s shearsFrozen North and chilly eas t

( 1 0) I n the draft this l ine isS ince Men paid no Rent and Leas es.

308 POEM S PUBLI SH ED WI TH LAM I A, E TC , 1 820.

Gone , the merry morris din ;Gone , the song of Gamelyn ;Gone , the tough-be lted outlawI dling in the grene shaweAl l are gone away and pas t !And if Robin should be cas tSudden from his turfed grave ,And if Marian should haveOnce aga in her forest days ,She would weep , and he would craz eH e would swear , for all his oaks ,

Fall’n beneath the dockyard strokes ,H ave rotted on the briny seas ;She woul d weep tha t her wi ld beesSang not to her— s trange that honeyCan

’t be got wi thout hard money !

So i t is : yet let us s ing ,H onour to the old bow-s tring !H onour to the bugle -hornH onour to the woods unshorn !H onour to the Lincoln green !H onour to the archer keenH onour to tight l ittle John ,

And the horse he rode upon !

H onour to bold Robin H ood ,S leeping in the underwood !

I n the finished manuscript the prepos it ion in l ine 32 is to but in the printed ed itionfor . I nstead of the present l ines 33 to 4 2 Kea ts firs t wrote the fo llowing

No those t imes are flown and past.

Wha t if Robin shou ld be cas tSudden from his turfed grave ?H ow wou ld Marian behaveI n the forest now a days ?She wou ld weep and he would cra z e .

But after finishing the poem he wrote on the othe r s ide of the paper the de l ightfull ines as they now stand,except tha t l ine 37 is

All are gone and al l is past !

and in l ine 39 tufi‘ed s tand s in p lace of turfed. I n the finished copy the words

slzould be and shou ld [rave in lines 38 and 40 are underl ined.

(44 ) I n the draft

Fa l len benea th the Woodma [n]’s

(4 9 ) I n the draft , t/zen stands cance l led in favour of yet ; and there is an unfinished line struck out immed iate ly afterwards, T/zoug li t/ie

TO AUTUMN . 309

H onour to ma id Marian ,

And to all the Sherwood- clan !Though the ir days have hurried byLet us two a burden try.

TO AUTUMN

EASON of m ists - frui tfulness ,ose osom- friend of the matur ing sun ;

Conspiring wi th him how to load and bless‘With frui t the vines that round the thatch-eves

To bend wi th apples the moss’d cottage - trees ,IAnd fill all frui t wi th ripeness to the core ;

To swe l l the gourd , and plump the hazel she llsWith a swee t kerne l ; to set budding more , a.

And stil l more , later flowers for the bee s ,Unti l they think warm days wi ll never cease ,

’

For S limmer has o’er-brimm’d the ir clammy cells .

Who hath not seen thee oft am id thy s tore ?Some times whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee s i tting care less oni g ranary floor ,-s—f _

Thy ha ir soft- l ifted by the winnowing wind ;Or on a half- reap’d furrow sound as leep ,

D rows’d wi th the fume of popp ies , while thy hook

(61 - 2) Line 61 ori'

na l ly began with T/zoug /i tlzeir P l easur es ; and the fina lline stands in the dra thus

You and I a stave wil l try.

The read ing of the text is in the finished manuscr ipt, as we l l as in the firsted i tion.

This poem seems to have been just composed when Kea ts wrote to Reynoldsfrom W inche ste r his letter of the 22nd of September 1 8 1 9 . H e says H ow beautiful the season is now. H ow fine the air a tempera te sharpness about it. Rea l ly,without joking ,

chaste wea ther D ian skies . I never l iked stubble-fie lds so much

as now aye ,be tter than the chi lly green of the Spring . Somehow,

a stubble p la inlooks warm

,in the same way that some p ictures look warm . This struck me so

much in my Sunday’

s wa lk that I composed upon it.”

31 0 POEMS PUBL I SH ED WI TH LAM I A , ETC , 1 820.

And sometimes l ike ag lgar

ner thou dost keepS teady thy laden head across a brook ;Or by a cyder-press , wi th patient look ,Thou watchest the las t oozings hours by hours.

3.

Where are thew of Spring ? Ay, where are they? 5

Think not of them , thou hast thy mus ic too,

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,And touch the stubble-

pla ins wi th rosy hue b

Then in a wailfuLcheir the smal l gna ts mournAmong the river sa llows , boM ft

Or s inking as the l ight wind lives or dies ; yAnd ful l bleat from hil ly bourn ;H edge - cr icke ts s ing ; and now wi th treble soft d.

The red-b reas t whistles from a garden-croft ; A.

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies . 4 ,

O

ODE ON MELANCHOLY.‘

0, no , go not to Lethe , ne i ther twistWolf’s -bane , tight- rooted , for its poisonous wine ;

Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’dBy nightshade , ruby

grape of Proserp ine

Make not your rosary o yew-berries ,T‘“

Nor let

Your downy owlA partner in your sorrow’

s mysteries ;For shade to shade wi l l come too drowsily ,And gamu theW il t] anguish of the soul .

(3) The term H ed e-crickets for gr assbopper s in l ine 9 resumes ve ry hap lythewho le sentiment of eats

’5 compe tit ion sonne t On tbe Gr asslzopper and r icket.

See age 4 9 .

rd H oughton gives the fo l lowing stanza as the intended opening of the Ode.

from the orig ina l manuscriptThough you shou ld bu i ld a bark of dead men

’

s bones,And rea r a phantom g ibbet for a mas t

,

S titch shrouds toge ther for a sa i l , with groansTo fill it out, blood-stained and aghast ;

H Y P E R I O N .

[Lord H oughton records , on the authority of Brown , that HyperionWas begun after the dea th of Tom Keats , when the poet took up his

res idence at Wentworth P lace ; but Mr . Colvin asse rts somewhat pos itively, on wholly inconclus i ve ev i dence , that the poem was begun inSeptember or October 1 8 1 8 , at Tom

’s beds ide . I n the journa l- letter

to G eorge and his wife in which the firs t a llus ion to Tom’s dea th oc

curs , wri tten in D ecember 1 8 1 8 or January 1 8 1 9 , Keats says , I thinkyou knew before you left England , tha t my ne x t subject would be theFall of H yperion .

’ I went on a l itt le with it last and on

the 1 4 th of February 1 8 1 9 he wri tes I have not gone on with H ypeI n Augus t he wri tes to Ba iley from Winchester , “ I have a lso

been wri t ing parts of my On the 22nd of Septemberhe says in his le t ter to Reynolds , I have g iven up H yperion ’

there were too many M i l tonic invers ions in it M il tonic verse cannotbe wri tten but in an artful , or , ra ther , art ist’s humour . I wish to g ivemyse lf up to other sensat ions . Engl ish ought to be kept up . I t maybe interest ing to you to p ick out some l ines from H yperion ,

’and put

a mark , to the fa lse beauty , proceeding from art , and one to the

true voice of fee l ing . Upon my soul , ’twas imag ination ; I cannot

make the dis tinct ion every now and then there is a M i l tonic intonat ion— but I cannot make the div is ion properly .

” Lord H oughtonobserves upon this passage that the a l lus ion is probably to the Visionvers ion of Hyperion but se e the note quoted be low from Woodhouse .

She lley , i t wil l be remembered , says in the Preface to Adonais ,“ I

cons ider the fragment of H yperion , as second to nothing tha t was everproduced by a wri ter of the same years .

” And in his unfinished Letter to the Editor of Tbe Qua r ter ly Review he says , The great pro

port ion of th is piece is sure ly in the very highest s tyle of poe try .

” I n

a le tter to Peacock he ca lls Hyperion an as tonishing p iece of wr i ting ; and in another he says if the Hyperion be not grand poe try ,none has been produced by our contemporaries .

” H unt remarks inTbe I ndica tor , ve ry happi ly , The H yperion is a fragment , a

gigant ic one , l ike a-ruin in the desart , or the bones of the mastodon .

I t is truly of a p iece with its subject , which is the downfa l l of the e ldergods .

” Woodhouse , in his interlea ved and annotated copy of Endymion , in which I was so fortunate as to recover so many readings from

3 1 4 H YPER I ON .

the draft of that poem , records under the date Apri l 1 8 1 9 that Kea tshad lent him the fragment of H yperion for perusal . I t conta ins ,” saysWoodhouse , 2 books (ab t 9 00 l ines in a ll) . As the e x tantfragment of the Vision cons is ts of one Canto of 4 44 l ines , and the 62opening l ines of a second Canto , while the fragment published in 1 820

cons is ts of 883 l ines , that was , no doubt , wha t Woodhouse had : more

ove r he makes , in conne xion wi th his note , three e xtracts which arefrom the published vers ion . H e records tha t Keats sa id he was dissa t isfied with what he had done of i t ; and should not comple te it .

”

Woodhouse , l ike severa l of Kea ts’s friends , thoroughly appreciated theportentous genius of the young poet : of Hyperion he says , “ The

s tructure of the verse , as wel l as the subject , are colossa l . I t has an

air of ca lm grandeur about i t which is indica t ive of true power .— I

know of no poem with which in this re spect it can be compared . I tis that in poe try , which the E lg in and Egypt ian marbles are in sculpt .ure .

” Aga in , a t the c lose of his e x tracts from the manuscript , thisjudicious ly admiring friend wel l says , “ The above l ines , sepa ra tedfrom the res t , g ive but a fa int idea of the susta ined grandeur and quie tpower which characterize the poem : but they are suffic ient to lead usto regre t that such an a ttempt should have been abandoned . The

poem , if comple ted , would have treated of the dethronement of H yper ion , the former God of the Sun , by Apollo ,

— and inc identa lly of

those of Oceanus by Neptune , of Saturn by Jupi ter &c . , and of the

war of the G iants for Saturn’s reestabl ishment — wi th other events , of

which we ha ve but very dark hints in the mythologica l poe ts of G reeceand Rome . I n fact the inc idents would have been pure creat ions ofthe Poe t’s bra in . H ow he is qua l ified for such a task , may be seen in

a trifl ing degree by the few mythologica l gl impses afforded in Endymion .

”The other vers ion of Hyperion , in the form of a Vis ion ,

”

which Lord H oughton g ave firs t as a revised vers ion and then as a

draft , Mr . Colvin has shown on the distinct evidence of Brown to be a

revis ion .- H . B . F.]

3 1 6 H YPER I OIV. [Book 1 .

Touch’d his wide shoulders , after bending lowWi th reverence , though to one who knew i t not .

She was a Goddess of the infant world ;By her in s tature the ta ll AmazonH ad stood a pigmy’s he ight : she would have ta’enAchi lles by the ha ir and bent his neck ;Or wi th a finger s tay’d I x ion’

s whe e l .H er face was large as tha t of Memphian sphinx ,Pedestal

’d haply in a palace court ,When sages look

’d to Egypt for the ir lore .

But oh how unl ike marble was that faceH ow beautiful , if sorrow had not madeSorrow more beaut iful than Beauty’s se lf.There was a l is tening fear in her regard ,As if calam i ty had but begun ;As if the vanward clouds of evil daysH ad spent the ir mal ice , and the sul len rear

Was with its s tored thunder labouring up .

One hand she press’d upon that aching spotWhere beats the human heart , as if jus t there ,Though an immorta l , she fel t crue l pa inThe other upon Saturn’

s bended neckShe la id , and to the leve l of his ear

Leaning wi th parted lips , some words she spakeI n solemn tenour and deep organ toneSome mourning words , which in our feeble tongueWould come in these l ike accents ; 0 how fra i lTo that large utterance of the early Gods(35—7 ) Al though the counterpoint of l ines 35 and 36 reca l ls the manner of

Shakespe are ,it is to a contemporary influence that l ine 37 po ints . I n Landor

'

s

Gebir , Book I , we read

There was a brightening pa leness in his face ,

S uch a s D iana r is ing o'

e r the rocksShowe r

’

d on the lone ly La tmian ; on his browSorrow the re was

, ye t nought was there severe .

(51 ) Le igh H unt'

s remarks upon Keats'

s fa i lure to finish the poem (seeAppend ix) a re spe c ia l ly appropria te to this passage ,

“ I f any l iving poe t cou ldfinish this fragment

, we be l ieve it is the author h im se lf. But pe rhaps he fee ls tha the ought not. A story which invo lves pa ss ion ,

a lmost of necess ity invo lves Speech ;and though we may we l l enough descr ibe be ings gr eater than ourse lves by comparison , unfortuna te ly we cannot make them speak by compa r ison.

”

Of the magnificent three l ines before Thea ’

s spee ch he says , Th is grand confess ion of want

of grandeur is a l l tha t he cou ld do for them . M i lton could do no more . Nay, hedid less , when accord ing to Pope he m ade

God the father turn a schoo l d ivine.

The moment the Gods speak , we forge t tha t they did not speak like ourse lves.The fa ct is , th ey fee l l ike ourse lves ; and the poe t would have to make them fee l

Boos: H YPER I ON . 31 7

Saturn , look up though wherefore , poor oldI have no comfort for thee , no not one

“ I cannot say, O wherefore s leepes t thou ?For heaven is parted from thee , and the earthKnows thee not , thus affl icted , for a God ;And ocean too , wi th all its solemn noise ,H as from thy sceptre pass’d ; and all the air

I s emptied of thine hoary majes ty .

Thy thunder , conscious of the new command ,Rumbles reluctant o’er our fa llen house ;And thy sharp l ightning in unpractis

’d hands

Scorches and burns our once serene doma in .

0 aching time ! 0 moments big as years !All as ye pass swe l l out the mons trous truth ,And press it so upon our weary griefsThat unbel ief has not a space to breathe .

Saturn , s leep on : O thoughtless , why did IThus violate thy s lumbrous solitude ?Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes ?Saturn , s leep on ! while at thy fee t I weep .

As when , upon a tranced summer-night ,Those green-rob

’d senators of m ighty woods ,

Tal l oaks , branch-charmed by the earnest s tars ,D ream , and so dream all night without a stir,Save from one gradual sol i tary gus tWhich comes upon the s i lence , and dies off,As if the ebbing air had but one wave ;So came these words and went ; the while in tears .

She touch’d her fa ir large forehead to the ground ,Just where her falling ha ir m ight be outspreadA soft and s i lken mat for Saturn’

s fee t .One moon , wi th a lteration s low,

had shedH er si lver seasons four upon the n ight ,And s t i l l these two were postured motionless ,Likem l isglgé

‘

fi}in cathedra l cavern ;

The frozen G0 3 1 couchant on the earth ,otherwise

, which he cannot,unless he venture upon an obscur ity which would

destroy our sympathy : and wha t is sympa thy with a God ,b ut turning him into a

man ? We a l low,that superiority and inferior ity are

,after a ll

,human term s ,

and imp ly som ething not so truly fine and noble as the leve l l ing of a grea tsympathy and love ; but poems of the p resent na ture , l ike Parad ise Lost , assume a

d ifferent princ ip le ; and fortunate ly perhaps , it is one which it is impossible to rec

oncile with the other.

"

3I 8 H YPERI ON . [Boox I .

And the sad Goddess weeping at his feetUnti l at length old Sa turn l ifted upH is faded eyes , and saw his kingdom gone ,And all the gloom and sorrow of the p lace ,And tha t fa ir knee l ing Goddess ; and then spake ,As wi th a pals ied tongue , and while his beardShook horr id with such aspen-maladyO tender spouse of gold H yperion ,

Thea , I fee l thee ere I see thy face ;Look up , and let me see our doom in it ;

'

Look up , and te l l me if this feeble shapeI s Sa turn’

s ; tel l me , if thou hear’s t the voi ceOf Sa turn ; te l l me , if this wrinkling brow,

Naked and bare of its grea t diadem ,

Peers l ike the front of Sa turn . Who had powerTo make me desolate ? whence came the s trength ?H ow was i t nurtur’d to such burs t ing forth ,While Fa te seem’d s trangled in my nervous grasp ?But i t is so ; and I am smother

’d up ,

And buried from a ll god l ike e xerc iseOf influence benign on plane ts pa le ,

Of admoni tions to the winds and seas ,

Of peacefu l sway above man’s harves ting ,

And a ll those ac ts which D e i ty supremeD oth eas e its heart of love in .

- I am gone

Away from my own bosom : I have leftMy s trong identity , my rea l self,Somewhere be tween the throne , and where I sitH ere on this spot of earth . Search , Thea , search !Open thine eyes eterne , and sphe re them roundUpon a ll space : space s tarr

’d , and lorn of l ight ;

Space region’d with l ife -air ; and barren void ;

Space s of fire , and all the yawn of he ll .Search , Thea , search ! and tel l me , if thou sees tA certa in shape or shadow, making wayWith wings or chariot fierce to repossess

A heaven he los t erewhile : i t mus t i t mus tBe of ripe progress Saturn mus t be King .

Yes , there mus t be a golden victory ;There must be Gods thrown down , and trumpe ts blownOf triumph calm , and hymns of fest iva lUpon the gold clouds m e tropol itan ,

Voices of soft procla im , and s i lver s tirOf strings in hollow she lls ; and there shal l be

320 H YPERI ON .

Or the famil iar vis it ing of one

Upon the firs t toll of his pas s ing-bell ,Or prophesyings of the m idnight lamp ;But horrors , portion’d to a giant nerve ,Oft made H yperion ache . H is palace brightBastion

’d wi th pyram i ds of glowing gold ,And touch

’d wi th shade of bronzed obel isks ,

G lar’

d a blood-red through all its thousand courts ,Arches , and domes , and fiery ga lleries ;And all its curta ins of Aurorian cloudsFlush’d angerly : while some times eagle’s wings ,Unseen before by Gods or wondering men ,

D arken’d the place ; and ne ighing s teeds were heard ,

Not heard before by Gods or wondering men .

Also ,when he would tas te the spicy wreaths

Of incense , breath’d a loft from sacred hil ls ,

Ins tead of swee ts , his ample palate tookSavour of poisonous brass and me ta l s ickAnd so , when harbour’d in the s leepy west ,After the ful l comple tion of fa ir day,For res t divine upon exa lted couchAnd s lumber in the arm s of me lody ,H e pae

’d away the pleasant hours of ease

With stride colossa l , on from hal l to hall ;While far wi thin each a is le and deep recess ,H is winged m inions in close clusters stood ,Ama z

’d and full of fear ; l ike anx ious men

Who on wide pla ins gather in panting troops ,When earthquakes jar the ir battlements and towers .

Even now, while Saturn, rous’d from i cy trance ,

Went s tep for s tep wi th Thea through the woods ,H yperion, leaving twil ight in the rear ,

Came s lope upon the threshold of the wes t ;Then , as was wont , his pa lace-door flew ope

I n smoothes t s ilence , save what solemn tube s ,Blown by the serious Zephyrs , gave of sweet

1 And wandering sounds , s low-breathed me lodies ;And l ike a rose in verme i l tint and shape ,

I n fragrance soft , and coolness to the eye ,

That inle t to severe magnificenceS tood ful l blown , for the God to enter in.

H e enter’d , but he enter

’d full of wra th ;His flaming robes stream’

d out beyond his heels,

[BOOK 1 .

Boox H YPERI ON . 32 I

And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire ,That scar’d away the meek e therea l H ours

And made the ir dove-wings tremble . On he flared ,From stately nave to nave , from vault to vault ,Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light ,And diamond-paved lus trous long arcades ,Unti l he reach

’d the grea t ma in cupola ;There standing fierce beneath , he s tampt his foot ,And from the basements deep to the high towersJarr

’d his own golden region ; and before

The quaver ing thunder thereupon had ceas’d ,

H is voice leapt out , despite of godlike curb ,To this resul t O dreams of day and n ight !0 mons trous forms ! 0 e ffigies of pa in !0 spectres busy in a cold , cold gloom !O lank- ear’d Phantoms of black-weeded pools !Why do I know ye why have I seen ye ? whyI s my eterna l essence thus dis traughtTo see and to behold these horrors new?Saturn is fallen , am I too to fa ll ?Am I to leave this haven of my rest ,This cradle of my glory , this soft cl ime ,This ca lm luxuriance of blissful l ight ,These crys ta ll ine pavil ions , and pure fanes ,Of all my lucent empire ? I t is leftD eserted , void , nor any haunt of m ine .

The blaze , the splendor , and the symmetry ,I cannot see— but darkness , death and '

darkness .W ife-kEven here , into my centre of repose ,The shady vis ions come to domineer,Insul t , and blind , and s tifle up my pomp .

Fa ll No , by Te l lus and her briny robesOver the fiery frontier of my realms !I wil l advance a terrible right armShall scare that infant thunderer , rebe l Jove ,And bid old Sa turn take his throne aga in .

”

H e spake , and ceas’d , the while a heavier threat

H eld struggle with his throa t but came not forth ;For as in theatres of crowded men

H ubbub increases more they ca ll out H ushSo at H yperion’s words the Phantoms paleBestirr

’d thrice horr ible and cold ;And from the mirror

’d leve l where he s tood

A m ist arose , as from a scummy marsh .

322 H YPERI ON . (BOOK 1 .

At this , through all his bulk an agonyCrept gradua l , from the fee t unto the crown ,

Like a l i the serpent vas t and muscularMaking slow way, wi th head and neck convuls’dFrom over-s tra ined m ight . Re leas

’d , he fled

To the eas tern gates , and fu ll six dewy hoursBefore the dawn in season due should blush ,H e brea th

’d fierce breath aga inst the s leepy porta ls ,

Clear’d them of heavy vapours , burs t them wide

Suddenly on the ocean’s chilly s treams .

The plane t orb of fire , whereon he rodeEach day from east to west the heavens through ,Spun round in sable curta ining of clouds ;Not therefore ve i led quite , blindfold , and hid ,But ever and anon the glancing spheres ,Circles , and arcs , and broad-be lt ing colure ,

G low’d through , and wrought upon the muffling darkSwee t- shaped lightnings from the nadir deepUp to the zeni th , hieroglyphics old

,

Which sages and keen- ey’d as trologers

Then l iving on the earth , ‘

with labouring thoughtWon from the gaze of many centuriesNow los t , save what we find on remnants hugeOf stone , or marble swart ; the ir import gone ,

The ir wisdom long s ince fled . Two wings this orbPossess

’d for glory , two fa ir argent wings ,Ever e xalted at the God ’

s approachAnd now, from forth the gloom the ir plumes immense

Rose , one by one , t i l l all outspreaded were ;While s till the da zzling globe maintain’d eclipse ,

Awa i ting for H ype rion’

s command .

Fa in would he have commanded , fa in took throneAnd bid the day begin , if but for change .

H e m ight not - No , though a primeva l GodThe sacred seasons m ight not be disturb’d .

Therefore the opera tions of the dawnS tay

’d in the ir birth , even as here ’tis told .

Those s i lver wings e xpanded s is terly ,Eager to sa i l the ir orb ; the porches wideOpen

’d upon the dusk demesnes of night ;And the bright T i tan , phrenzied with ‘

new woes ,

Unus’d to bend , by hard compuls ion bent

H is spiri t to the sorrow of the t ime ;And al l along a disma l rack of clouds ,

324 H YPER I ON .

Meantime I will keep watch on thy bright sun,And of thy seasons be a careful nurse .

”

Ere ha lf th is region-whispe r had come down ,

H yperion arose , and on the stars

Lifted his curved lids , and kept them wideUnt il i t ceas’d ; and s till he kept them wideAnd s ti ll they were the same bright , patient stars.

Then wi th a slow incline of his broad breas t ,Like to a diver in the pearly seas ,Forward he s toop

’d over the a iry shore ,

And plung’d al l noiseless into the deep night .

[BOOK

H Y P E R I O N .

BOOK II .UST at the self-same beat of T ime’s wide wingsH yperion s l id into the rust led air ,And Saturn gain’d with Thea that sad placeWhere Cybele and the bru ised T i tans mourn

’d .

I t was a den where no insult ing l ightCould gl immer on the ir tears ; where the ir own groansThey fe lt , but heard not , for the sol id roarOf thunderous wa terfa lls and torrents hoarse ,Pouring a constant bulk , uncerta in where .

Crag jutting forth to crag , and rocks that seem’d

Ever as if jus t r is ing from a s leep ,

Forehead to forehead held the ir monstrbus horns ;And thus in thousand huges t phantas iesMade a fit roofing to this‘ nest of woe .

Instead of thrones , hard fl int they sat upon ,

Couches of rugged stone , and s laty ridgeStubborn’

d with iron . All were not assembledSome chain’d in torture , and some wandering .

Coeus , and Gyges , and Briareiis ,Typhon , and D olor , and Porphyrion ,

With many more , the brawnies t in assault ,Were pent in regions of laborious breathDungeon

’d in opaque e lement , to keep

The ir clenched tee th s till clench’d , and all the ir l imbsLock

’d up l ike ve ins of me tal , crampt and screw

’d ;Without a motion , save of the ir big hearts

H eaving in pa in , and horribly convuls’dWith sanguine feverous boi l ing gurge of pulse .

Mnemosyne was s traying in the world ;Far from her moon had Phoebe wandered ;And many else were free to roam abroad ,But for the ma in, here found they covert drear.S carce images of l ife , one here , one there ,

326 H YPERI GIV. [BOOK 1 1 .

Lay vast and edgeways ; l ike a dismal cirqueOf D ruid stones , upon a forlorn moor ,

When the chill ra in begins at shut of eve ,I n dul l November , and the ir chance l vault ,The H eaven i tse lf, is blinded throughout n ight.Each one kept shroud , nor to his ne ighbour gaveOr word , or look , or act ion of despa ir .

Creiis was one ; his ponderous iron maceLay by him , and a sha tter

’d rib of rockTold of his rage , ere he thus sank and pined .

lapetus another ; in his grasp ,

A serpent’s plashy neck ; its barbed tongueSquee z

’d from the gorge , and all its uncurl

’d length

D ead ; and because the creature could not sp i tI ts poison in the eyes of conquering Jove .

Ne x t Cottus : prone he lay, chin uppermost ,As though in pa in ; for s till upon the fl intH e ground severe his skull , wi th Ope n mouthAnd eyes at horrid working . Neares t himAs ia , born of mos t enormous Caf,

cos t her mother Te llus keener pangs ,gh fem inine , than any of her sons :

thought than woe was in her dusky face,he was prophesying of her glory ;

(4 1 ) Woodhouse ’

s extra cts from the manuscript of Hyper ion are a l l from Book

I I , and consist of the first l ine s lines 2 to 35, 39 to 55, and 64 to 7 2. Thes ee xtra cts show no varia tion from the printe tftext , only a few po int ings and Spe l l ings ,such as Gr eens for Cr eiis in l ine 4 1 , and two ve rba l variations

,venom for poison in

l ine 4 8 , and fl oor for fl int in l ine 50. The two improvements are such as mayread i ly have been made on p roof shee ts.(61 ) This 1 5 one of the few instances , in this poem of wondrous firmness and

security, where one d isce rns 1 n Kea ts the unschoo led imag ination of a boy— the

inaptitude to reject an intrusive and inappropriate image . Up to this point thereis the most comp lete rea l ity of imag ination ,

the most pe rfect ea rne stne ss in se tt ingforth the t itanic woes of the d rama tis pers onae ; b ut here one is suddenly checkedby the thought , “ Wha t ! is he only laying a t T itans afte r a ll ? H ope wi th thate ssentia l ly Brit ish anchor of he rs in this company Then why not Fa h shouldering he r cross Why not Britannia wi th her trident transferred from one of George

the Third ’

s fine old copper pence Why not tha t s tradd le -kneed Erin wi th herharp from one of G eorge the S e cond

’

5 . I n sober se r iousness , it is ma tter of

amazement that this s ingle blo t of any consequence shou ld b e he re ; and I presum e we must a ttribu te its pre sence to the fact tha t Kea ts was over-ru led as to

the publicat ion of the fragment,and had not, in his wretched state of hea lth, the

328 H YPERI OI V.

A disanointing poison : so tha t Thea ,

Affrighted , kept her sti ll , and let him passFirst onwards in , among the fa llen tribe .

As wi th us mortal men , the laden heartI s persecuted more , and fever

’d more ,

When i t is nighing to the mournful houseWhere other hearts are s ick of the same bruise ;So Saturn , as he wa lk’d into the m idst ,Fel t fa int , and would have sunk among the rest ,But tha t he met Enceladus

’s eye ,Whose m ight iness , and awe of him , at once

Came l ike an inspira t ion ; and he shouted ,Ti tans , behold your God ! ” at which some groan

’d ;Some started on the ir fee t ; some al so shouted ;Some wept , some wail’d , all how’d wi th reverence ;And Ops , upl ift ing her black folded ve i l ,Show’d her pale cheeks , and al l her forehead wan,

H er eye-brows thin and je t , and hollow eyes.

There is a roaring in the bleak-grown pinesWhen Winter l ifts his voice ; there is a noiseAmong immortals when a God g ives s ign ,

Wi th hushing finger , how he means to loadH is tongue wi th the full we ight of utterless thought ,With thunder , and with mus ic , and with pomp :Such noise is l ike the roar of bleak-grown pines ;Which , when it ceases in this mountain’

d world ,No other sound succeeds ; but ceas ing here ,Among these fallen , Saturn’

s voice therefromG rew up l ike organ , tha t begins anewl ts s tra in , when other harmonies , stopt short ,Leave the dinn’d air vibrat ing s i lverly .

Thus grew it up Not in my own sad breas t ,Which is its own great judge and searcher out ,Can I find reason why ye should be thusNot in the legends of the firs t of days ,S tudied from tha t old spiri t- leaved bookWhich s tarry Uranus wi th finger brightSav’d from the shores of darkness , when the wavesLow-ebb’d st il l hid it up in shal low gloomAnd the which book ye know I ever keptFor my firm

-based footstool — Ah , infirmNot there , nor in s ign , symbol , or portentOf e lement , earth , water , air , and fire.

Boox H YPEP I OIV.

At war , at peace , or inter-quarrelingOne aga inst one , or two , or three , or al l

Each several one against the other three ,

As fire wi th air loud warring when ra in-floods

D rown both , and press them both aga ins t earth’s face ,Where , finding sulphur , a quadruple wra thUnhinges the poor world ; not in tha t s trife ,Wherefrom I take s trange lore , and read it deep ,Can I find reason why ye should be thusNo , no

-where can unriddle , though I search ,And pore on Nature’s universa l scrol lE ven to swooning , why ye D ivinit ies ,The first-born of all shap

’d and pa lpable Gods ,Should cower benea th wha t , in comparison ,

I s untremendous m ight . Yet ye are here ,

O’erwhe lm’d , and spurn

’d , and batter’d , ye are here !

0 T i tans , sha ll I say, Arise ! — Ye groan

Sha l l I say Crouch — Ye groan . Wha t can I then ?0 H eaven wide ! 0 unseen parent dear !What can I ? Tel l me , all ye brethren Gods ,H ow we can war , how eng ine our grea t wra th !O speak your counsel now, for Saturn’

s ear

I s a ll a -hunger’d . Thou, Oceanus ,

Ponderest high and deep ; and in thy faceI see , as tonied , tha t severe contentWhich comes of thought and mus ing : g ive us help !So ended Saturn ; and the God of the Sea ,

Sophis t and sage , from no Athenian grove ,But cogi tation in his watery shades ,Arose , with locks not oozy , and began ,

I n murmurs , which his firs t- endeavouring tongueCaught infant- l ike from the far-foamed sands .

O ye , whom wrath consumes ! who , p’ass ion-stung ,Wr i the at defeat , and nurse your agonies !

Shut up your senses , stifle up your ears ,My voice is not a bellows unto ire .

Yet l isten , ye who will , whils t I bring proofH ow ye , perforce , must be content to s toopAnd in the proof much comfort wil l I give ,I f we wi l l take that comfort in its truthWe fa ll by course of; Na ture’s law, not force llOf thunder , or of Jove . G reat Saturn , thouHas sifted wel l the atom-universe ;

329

330 H YPEP I OIV.

But for this reason , tha t thou art the King,And only blind from sheer supremacy ,One avenue was shaded from thine eyes ,Through which I wandered to e terna l truth .

And firs t , as thou was t not the firs t of powers ,So art thou not the las t ; i t cannot be :Thou art not the beg inn ing nor the end .

From chaos and parental darkness cameLight , the firs t frui ts of that intest ine broi l ,That sul len ferment , which for wondrous endsWas r ipening in i tse lf. The r ipe hour came ,

And wi th’ i t l ight , and l ight , engenderingUpon its own produce r , forthwith touch’

d

The whole enormous matter into l ife .

Upon that very hour , our parentage ,The H eavens and the Earth , were manifes tThen thou firs t-born , and we the giant-race ,Found ourselves rul ing new and beauteous realms .

Now comes the pa in of truth , to whom ’tis pa in ;

0 folly ! for to bear al l ngked truths ,And to envisage circumstanEé , all ca lm ,

Tha t is the top of sovere ignty . Mark wel l !As H eaven and Earth are fa irer , fa irer farThan Chaos and blank D arkness , though once chiefs ;And as we show beyond that H eaven and Earth

“ I n form and shape compact and beaut iful ,I n wil l , in action free , companionship ,

And thousand other s igns of purer l ife ;So on our hee ls a fre sh perfect ion treads ,A power more s trong in beauty , born of us

And fa ted to e xce l us , as we pas sI n glory that old D arkness : nor are we

Thereby more conquer’d , than by us the rule

Of shape less Chaos . Say, doth the dul l soi lQuarre l with the proud fores ts i t hath fed,

f‘And feede th s ti ll , more come ly than i tse lfCan i t deny the chiefdom of green grovesOr shal l the tree be env ious of the doveBecause i t cooeth , and hath snowy wingsTo wander wherewi thal and find its joysWe are such fores t- trees , and our fair boughsH ave bred forth , not pale sol i tary doves ,But eagles golden-fea ther

’d , who do tower

Above us in the ir beauty , and must re ign

[BOOK I I.

332 H YPERI ON . [BOOK 1 1.

And murmur’d into i t , and made me lody

O me lody no more ! for whi le I sang ,

And wi th poor skill let pass into the breezeThe dul l she l l’s echo , from a bowery s trandJus t oppos i te , an is land of the sea ,

There came enchantment with the shift ing wind ,That did both drown and keep a l ive my ears .

I threw my shel l away upon the sand ,And a wave fil l’d i t , as my sense was fill’d

With that new blissful golden me lody .

A l iving dea th was in each gush of sounds ,Each fam i ly of rapturous hurried notes ,That fell , one after one , ye t a ll a t once ,Like pearl beads dropping sudden from the ir s tringAnd then another , then another s tra in ,

Each like a clove leaving its ol ive perch ,With mus ic wing’d ins tead of s i lent plumes ,To hover round my head , and make me s ickOf joy and gr ief at once . G rief overcame ,

And I was s topp ing up my frant ic ears ,

When , pas t all hindrance of my trembling hands ,A voice came swee ter , sweeter than a ll tane ,And s ti ll i t cry’d , Apollo ! young Apollo !The morning-bright Apol lo ! young ApolloI fled , i t follow’

d me , and cry’d Apollo ! ’

0 Father , and O Bre thren , had ye fe l tThose pa ins of m ine ; 0 Sa turn , hads t thou fe lt ,Ye would not ca l l this too indulged tonguePresumptuous , in thus venturing to be heard .

So far her voice flow’d on, l ike timorous brookTha t , l ingering a long a pebbled coas t ,D oth fear to mee t the sea : but sea i t me t ,

And shudder’d ; for the overwhelm ing voiceOf huge Ence ladus swal low

’d i t in wra th

The ponde rous syllables , l ike sullen wavesI n the half-glutted hollows of reef-rocks ,Came boom ing thus , while st il l upon his arm

H e lean’d ; not r is ing , from supreme contempt .

Or sha l l we l isten to the over-wise ,

Or to the over- fool ish giant , Gods ?29 6) The words 0Fat/zer are of course for Oceanus .

31 0) This is the une tua tion of Kea ts'

s ed ition ; but the comma would bringout a finer sense if p aced before g iant .

BOOK

Not thunderbol t on thunderbolt , till allThat rebe l Jove’s whole armoury were spent ,Not world on world upon these shoulders pi led ,Could agoni ze me more than baby-wordsl n m idst of this dethronement horr ible .

Speak ! roar ! shout ! ye l l ! ye s leepy Ti tans all .D o ye forget the blows , the buffets vile ?Are ye not sm i t ten by a youngl ing arm ?

D ost thou forget , sham Monarch of the Waves ,Thy sca lding in the seas ? What , have I rous’dYour spleens wi th so few s imple words as these ?0 joy ! for now l see ye are not los t :0 joy ! for now I see a thousand eyesWide glaring for revenge As this he sa id ,

H e l ifted up his stature vast , and stood ,S till wi thout interm iss ion speaking thusNow ye are flames , I ’l l tell you how to burn ,

And purge the ether of our enem ies ;H ow to feed fierce the crooked s t ings of fire ,And s inge away the s llen clouds of Jove ,Stifling that puny essence in its tent .0 let him feel the evil he h th done ;For though I scorn Oceanus’s lore ,Much pa in have I for more than loss of realmsThe days of peace and s lumberous ca lm are fled ;Those days , a ll innocent of scathing war ,When al l the fa ir E x is tences of heavenCame open

-eyed to guess what we would speakThat was before our brows were taught to frown ,

Before our l ips knew e lse but solemn sounds ;That was before we knew the winged thing ,

Vi ctory , m ight be lost , or m ight be Won .

And be ye m indfu l that H yper ion ,

Our brightest brother , s t il l is undisgracedH yperion , lo ! his radiance is here ! ”

All eyes were on Enceladus’s face ,

And they behe ld , while st i l l H yperion’s nameFlew from his l ips up to the vaulted rocks ,A pall id gleam across his features stern

Not savage , for he saw ful l many a GodWroth as himself. H e look

’d upon them all ,And in each face he saw a gleam of l ight ,But sp lendider in Saturn’

s , whose hoar locks

334 HYPERI ON. [BOOK 1 1 .

Shone l ike the bubbling foam about a keelWhen the prow sweeps into a midnight cove .

I n pale and s i lver silence they remain’d ,T il l suddenly a splendour , l ike the mom ,

Pervaded al l the bee t l ing gloomy steeps ,All the sad spaces of oblivion ,

And every gulf, and every chasm old ,

And every he ight , and every sullen depth ,Voice less , or hoarse with loud tormented streams :And a ll the everlasting ca taracts ,And all the headlong torrents far and near ,

Mantled before in darkness and huge shade ,Now saw the l ight and made i t terrible .

I t was H yperion a grani te peakHis br igh t fee t touch’d , and there he stay

’d to viewThe m isery his bri l l iance had be tray’dTo the mos t hateful see ing of i tse lf.Golden his ha ir of short Numidian curl,Rega l his shape majestic , a vast shadeI n m ids t of his own br ightness , l ike the bulkOf Memnon

’s image at the set of sun

To one who trave ls from the dusking Eas t :S ighs , too , as mournful as tha t Memnon

’s harp

H e utter’d , while his hands contempla tive

He press’d toge ther , and in silence s tood .

Despondence seiz’d aga in the fallen Gods

At s ight of the dejected King of D ay,And many hid the ir fa ces from the l ightBut fierce Ence ladus Sent for th his eyesAmong the brotherhood ; and, at the ir glare ,Uprose lapetus , and Creils too ,

And Phorcus , sea-born , and together strodeTo where he towered on his em inence .

There those four shouted forth old Saturn’s name ;H yperion from the peak loud answered , ‘1

,Saturn !

Saturn sa t near the Mother of the Gods ,I n whose face was no joy, though a ll the GodsGave from the ir hollow throats the name of 1 : Saturn l

336 H YPERI ON [BOOK I I I .

Bes ide the os iers of a rivulet ,Full ankle-deep in l i ll ies of the vale .

The nightinga le had ceas’d , and a few s tars

Were l ingering in the heavens , while the thrush 9Began calm- throa ted . Throu hout al l the is e f §

Went trickling down the golden bow he he ld .

Thus with half- shut suffused eyes he s tood ,While from benea th some cumbrous boughs hard byWith solemn s tep an awful Goddess came ,

And there : was purport in her looks for him ,

Which he with eager guess began to readPerplex

’d , the while me lodious ly he sa id

H ow cam’

s t thou over the unfooted sea ?

Or ha th tha t ant ique m ien and robed formMov’d in these va les inv is ible ti ll now ?Sure I have heard those ves tments sweeping o

’er

The fallen leaves , when I have sa t aloneI n cool mid-fores t . Sure ly I have tracedThe rus tle of those ample skirts aboutThese gras sy sol i tudes , and seen the flowersLift up the ir heads , as s till the whispe r pass ’d .

Godde ss I have behe ld those eyes before ,

And the ir e terna l ca lm , and a ll tha t face ,

Or I have dream’d .

” Yes , sa id the supreme shape ,

Thou has t dream’

d of me ; and awaking upD ids t find a lyre al l golden by thy s ide ,Whose strings touch’d by thy fingers , all the vas t

“'

Unwearied ear of the whole universeLis ten’d in pa in and pleasure at the birthOf such new tuneful wonder . I s

’t not s trange

That thou shoulds t weep , so gifted ? Tell me , youth ,Wha t sorrow thou canst fee l ; for I am sad

When thou dos t shed a tea r : e xp la in thy griefsTo one who in this lone ly a isle hath beenThe wa tcher of thy s leep and hours of l ife ,

From the young daywhen firs t thy infant handPluck

’

d wi tless the weak flowers , t i ll thine arm

Could bend tha t bow heroic to a ll times .

Show thy heart’s secre t to an anc ient PowerWho hath forsaken old and sacred thrones

BOOK H YPER/01V.

For prophecies of thee , and for the sake “

Of love l iness new born .

” Apollo then ,

With sudden scrut iny and gloomless eyes ,Thus answer

’d , whi le his white me lodious throat .

Throbb’d wi th the syllables . Mnemosyne

Thy name is on my tongue , I know not how ;Why should I tel l thee what thou so wel l sees t ?Why should I s trive to showwhat from thy lipsWould come no mystery ? For me , dark , dark ,And pa inful vile oblivion seals my eyesI s trive to search wherefore I am so sad ,

Unt il a me lancholy numbs my l imbs ;And then upon the grass I sit , and moan,

Like one who once had wings . 0 why should IFee l curs’d and thwarted , when the l iege less airYields to my s tep aspirant ? why should ISpurn the green turf as ha teful to my feet ?Goddess benign , point forth some unknown thingAre there not other reg ions than this is le ?What are the s tars ? b

'

There I S the sun , the sun !

And the mos t pat ient br i ll iance of the moon !

And stars by thousands Point me out the wayTo any one part icular beauteous star ,And I wi l l fl i t into i t wi th my lyre ,

And make its s i lvery splendour pant wi th bliss .

I have heard the cloudy thunder : Where is power ?Whose hand , whose essence , what divinityMakes this a larum in the e lements ,While I here idle l is ten on the shoresI n fearless yet in aching ignorance ?0 te l l me , lone ly Goddess , by thy harp ,

That waileth every mom and eventide ,Te ll me why thus I rave , about these groves !Mute thou rema ines t Mute ye t I can readA wondrous lesson in thy s i lent faceKnowledge enormous makes a God of me .

Names , deeds , grey legends , dire events , rebe ll ions ,Majes ties , sovran voices , agonies ,Creat ions and destroyings , all a t once

Pour into the wide hollows of my bra in ,

And de ify me , as if some blithe wineOr bright el i x ir peerless I had drunk ,And so become immortal . Thus the God,While his enkindled eyes , with leve l glance

[BOOK 1 1 1 .

Beneath his whi te sOft temples , s tedfas t keptTrembling with l ight upon Mnemosyne .

Soon wild commotions shook him , and made flushAll the immorta l fa irness of his l imbs ;Mos t l ike the s truggle a t the gate of death ;Or l iker s t il l to one who should take leaveOf pale immortal dea th , and with a pang_As hot as death’s is chi ll , wi th fierce convulseDie into l ife so

' young Apol lo anguish’d

HW Y—m t . his golden tresses famedKept undulation round his eager neck .

During the pa in Mnemosyne uphe ldH er arms as one who prophes ied . At lengthApo llo shriek

’d and lo from a ll his

,

l imbsill illCe lestia l

Q Q i

TH E END .

( 1 36) H unt says of this part of the fragment,

“I t strikes us tha t there is some

thing too effem ina te and human in the way in which Apo l lo rece ives the exa lta tionwhich his wisdom is g iving him . H e weeps and wonders somewhat too fond l

e;but his powe rs gather nobly on him a s he proce eds .

”I confess tha t I should

d ispos ed to rank a ll the se symptoms o f convuls ion and hyst eria in the same ca te

gory as the fa inting oilove rs which Kea ts so frequently rep resented ,—a kind of

thing which his astonishing powers of progress wou ld infa llibly have outgrown had

he l ived a year or two longer.

The imprint of the Lamia volume, which is in the centre of the verso of the las t

page , is as fol lows :LONDON

PRI NTED BY TH OMAS DAV I SON,wm r nrnmns.

H YPERION,A VIS ION

ATTEMPTED RECONSTRUCTION OF TH E POEM.

ANAT I CS have the ir dreams , Wherewi th they weaveA paradise for a se ct ; the savage , too,

From forth the loftiest fashion of his s leepGuesses at heaven ; pi ty these have not

Trae’d upon ve llum or wi ld Indian leaf

The shadows of melodious utterance ,But bare of laure l they l ive , dream , and die ;For Poesy alone can tel l her dreams ,

With the fine spel l of words alone can saveImaginat ion from the sable cha inAnd dumb enchantment . Who al ive can say,Thou art no Poet—may’s t not tel l thy dreams ?

S ince every man whose soul is not a clodH ath vis ions and would speak , if he had loved ,And been well nurtured in his mother tongue .

Whe ther the dream now purpos’d to rehearse

Be poet’s or fanatic’s wi l l be knownWhen this warm scribe , my hand , is in the grave .

Methought I stood where trees of every clime ,Palm , myrtle , oak , and sycamore , and beech ,With plantane and spice-blossoms , made a screen ,

I n ne ighbourhood of founta ins (by the noiseSoft-showering in m ine ears) , and (by the touchOf scent) not far from roses . Twining roundI saw an arbour wi th a drooping roof

Of trell is vines , and bells , and larger blooms ,Like flora l censers , swing ing l ight in air ;Before its wreathed doorway , on a moundOf moss , was spread a feas t of summer frui ts ,Which , nearer seen , seem

’d refuse of a mea l

By angel tasted or our Mother Eve ;For empty shells were scatter

’d on the grass ,

342 RE CON STRUCTI ON OF “ H YPERI ON .

”

And grapestalks but half-bare , and remnants moreSweet- sme ll ing , whose pure k inds I could not know.

S til l was more plenty than the fabled hornThrice emptied could pour fort h at banque ting ,

For Proserpine return’d to her own fie lds ,

Where the wh ite he ifers low. And a pe tite ,More yearning

'

than on ea rth I ever fe t ,G rowing wi th in , I a te de l icious ly ,And , after not lon

g, thirs ted ; for thereby

S tood a cool vesse of transparent jui ceSipp

’d by the wander’d bee , the which I took ,And pledging all the mortals of the world ,And a ll the dead whose names are in our l ips ,D rank . That full draught is parent of my theme .

No As ian poppy nor e l i x ir fineOf the soon- fading , jealous , Caliphat ,No poison gender’d in close monk ish ce ll ,To thin the scarlet conclave of old men ,

Could so have rapt unwil ling l ife away .

Among the fragrant husks and berries crush’dUpon the grass , I s truggled hard aga instThe dom ineering potion , but in va in .

The cloudy swoon came on, and down I sank ,Like a S i lenus on an antique vase .

H ow long I slumbe r’d ’tis a chance to guess .

When sense of l ife re turn’d , I started up

As if wi th wings , but the fa ir trees were gone ,The mossy mound and arbour were no more

I look’d around Upon the curved s idesOf an old sanctuary , with roof augus t ,Bui lded so high , i t seem’

d that filmed cloudsM ight spread beneath as o’er the stars of heaven.

So old the place was , I remember’d none

The l ike upon the earth : what I had seen

Of grey cathedra ls , buttress’d walls , rent towers,The superannuations of sunk rea lms ,

Or Nature’s rocks toil’d hard in waves and winds ,

Seem’d but the faulture of decrep i t th ings

To that e ternal domed monument .Upon the marble at my fee t there layS tore of s trange vesse ls and large drape ries ,Which needs have been of dyed asbestos wove ,Or in that place the moth could not corrupt ,So white the l inen, so, in some ,

‘ dist inct

344 RE CONSTRUCTI ON OF H YPER/0

Of tha t fierce threat and the hard task proposed .

Prodigious seem’d the toil ; the leaves were yet

Burning , when suddenly a pals ied ch illS truck from the paved leve l up my l imbs ,And was ascending quick to put cold graspUpon those streams that pulse bes ide the throat .I shriek’d , and the sharp anguish of my shriekS tung my own ears ; I strove hard to escape

The numbness , strove to ga in the lowes t step .

S low, heavy , deadly was my pace : the coldG rew s tifl ing , suffocating at the heart ;And when I clasp’d my hands I fe lt them not .

One m inute before death my ic’d foot touch’dThe lowest sta ir ; and , as i t touch’d , l ife seem

’d

To pour in at the toes ; I mounted upAs once fa ir ange ls on a ladder flewFrom the green turf to heaven. H oly Power ,”Cry

’d I , approaching near the horned shrine ,What am I that should so be sav

’d from death ?Wha t am I that another death come not

To choke my utterance , sa crilegious , hereThen sa id the ve iled shadow : Thou has t fel tWhat ’tis to die and l ive aga in beforeThy fated hour ; that thou hadst power to do so

I s th ine own safe ty ; thou has t dated onThy doom .

” High Prophetess ,” said I , purge ofl'

,

Benign , if so i t please thee , my m ind’s film .

None can usurp this he ight ,” return’d that shade ,

But those to whom the m iseries of the worldAre m isery , and wi ll not let them res t .All e lse who find a haven in the world ,Where they may thoughtless s leep away the ir days ,I f by a chance into this fane they come ,Rot on the pavement where thou rot teds t half.Are there not thousands in the world ,” sa id I ,

Encourag’d by the sooth voi ce of the shade ,

Who love the ir fe llows even to the dea th ,Who feel the g iant agony of the world ,And more , l ike s laves to poo r humani ty ,Labour for morta l good ? I sure should seeOther men here , but I am here alone .

”

Those whom thou spakes t of are no vis ionaries ,Rejoin

’d tha t voice ; they are no dreamers weak ;

They seek no wonder but the human face ,

RE CON STRUCTI ON OF H YPER I ON .

”34 5

N0 mus ic but a happy-noted voiceThey come not here , they have no thought to comeAnd thou art here , for thou art less than they .

Wha t benefit cans t thou do , or all thy tribe ,To the grea t world ? Thou art a dream ing thing,

A fever of thyse lf : think of the earth ;What bliss , even in hope , is there for thee ?What haven ? every creature ha th its home ,E very sole man hath days of joy and pa in,Whe ther his labours be sublime or low

The pa in a lone , the joy a lone , distinctOnly the dreamer venoms all his days ,Bear ing more woe than a ll his s ins deserve .

Therefore , that happ iness be somewhat shared,Such things as thou art are adm itted oftInto l ike gardens thou didst pass erewhile ,

And sufl'

er’d in these temples : for tha t cause

Thou s tandes t safe beneath this statue’s knees .

”

Tha t I am favour’d for unworthiness ,

By such prop i tious parley medicinedI n s ickness not ignoble , I rejoi ce ,Aye , and could weep for love of such award .”So answer

’

d I , continuing , If it please ,Majes tic shadow, te ll me where I am ,

Whose a ltar this , for whom this incense curls ;Wha t image th is whose face I cannot seeFor the broad marble knees and who thou art ,

Of accent fem inine so courteous ?Then the tal l shade , in droop ing l inen veil

’d ,

Spoke out , so much more earnest , that her breathS tirr

’d the thin folds of gauze that drooping hung

About a golden censer from her hand g

Pendent ; and by her voice I knew she shedLong

- treasured tears . This temple , sad and lone,I s all spar

’d from the thunder of a warFoughten long s ince by giant hierarchyAga inst rebell ion : this old image here ,Whose carved fea tures wrinkled as he fe ll ,I s Saturn’

s ; I , Mone ta ,left supreme ,

Sole goddess of th is desola tion .

”

I had no words to answer , for my tongue ,Use less , could find about its roofed homeNo syllable of a fit majesty

RE CON S TR (J CT/ON OF H YPER/01V.

”

To make rejoinder to Mone ta’s mournThere was a s ilence , while the al ta r’s bl azeWas fa inting for swee t food . I look’d thereon,

And on the paved floor , where nigh were piledFaggots of c innamon, and many heapsOf other crisped sp icewood : then againI look’d upon the al tar , and its hornsWhiten’d wi th ashes , and its languorous flame,And then upon the offerings aga in ;And so , by turns , till sad Moneta cry

’d

The sacrifice is done , but not the lessWill I be kind to thee for thy good will .My power , which to me is s t ill a curse ,Sha l l be to thee a wonder ; for the scenes

S til l swooning vivid through my globed brain,With an e lectra l changing m isery ,Thou shalt with these dul l morta l eyes beholdFree from all pa in , if wonder pa in thee not .

”

As near as an immortal’s sphered wordsCould to a mother’s soften were these las tAnd ye t I had a terror of her robes ,And chiefly of the ve i ls tha t from her browH ung pa le , and curtain

’d her in mys teries ,

That made my heart too sma l l to hold its blood.This saw tha t Goddess , and wi th sa cred handParted the ve i ls . Then saw I a wan face ,Not p in’d by human sorrows , but bright-b lanch’dBy an immorta l s ickness which kills not ;I t works a cons tant change , which happy dea thCan put no end to ; deathwards progress ingTo no dea th was tha t visage ; i t had pas tThe l i l ly and the snow ; and beyond theseI must not think now, though I saw that face .

But for her eyes I should have fled away ;They he ld me back with a benigna nt l ight ,Soft , m it igated by divines t lids.Half-clos’d , and vis ionless entire they seem’d

Of all e xternal things ; they saw me not ,

But in blank splendour beam’d , l ike the m i ld moon,

Who comforts those she sees not , who knows notWha t eyes are upward cast . As I had foundA gra in of gold upon a mounta in’s s ide ,

And , twing’d with avarice , s train

’d out my eyesTo search its sul len entra i ls r i ch wi th ore ,

34 8 RE CONSTRUCTI ON OF “ H YPER1 0M ”

Spreading more shade ; the Na iad ’mid her reedsPres t her cold finger closer to her l ips .

Along the margin-sand large foot-marks wentNo fur ther than to where old Sa turn’s fee tH ad res ted , and there s lept how long a s leep !D egraded , cold , upon the sodden groundH is old right hand lay nerve less , l is tless , dead ,Unsceptred , and his rea lm less eyes were closedWhile his bow’

d head seem’d l is tening to the Earth,

His ancient mother , for some comfort yet .I t seem’d no force could wake him from his place ;

But there came one who, wi th a kindred hand ,Touch

’d his wide shoulders , after bending lowWith reverence , though to one who knew i t not .

Then came the griev’d voi ce of Mnemosyne ,And griev

’d I hearken’d . Tha t d ivini ty

Whom thou saw’st s tep from yon forlornest wood ,

And with s low pace approach our fa llen king ,I s Thea , softes t-natured of our brood .

”

I mark’d the Goddess , in fa ir s ta tuarySurpas sing wan Mone ta by the head ,And in her sorrow nearer woman

’

s tears .

There was a list’ning fear in her regard ,

As i f ca lam i ty had but begun ;As if the venom

’d clouds of ev i l daysH ad spent the ir ma l ice , and the sullen rear

Was with its s tored thunder labouring up ,

One hand she press’d upon that aching spotWhere bea ts the human heart , as if just there ,Though an immorta l , she fel t crue l pa in ;The other upon Saturn’s bended neckShe la id , and to the leve l of his ea r

Leaning , wi th parted lips some words she spokeI n solemn tenour and deep organ

- tone ;Some mourning words , which in our feeble tongueWould come in this l ike accenting ; how fra i lTo that large utterance of the early gods !

Saturn , look up ! and for what , poor lost king ? 330

(31 5) I t wi l l b e seen tha t this passage , though varying much in deta i l from the

other vers ion (Book I , l ine s 37 to is subs tantia l ly the same down to line 363.Th is is a very notable instance offine work damaged in revis ion.

RE CONSTRUCTI ON OF H YPERI ON .

”34 9

I have no comfort for thee ; no, not one ;I cannot say, wherefore thus s leepes t thou ?For H eaven is parted from thee , and the EarthKnows thee not , so affl icted , for a god .

The Ocean , too , wi th all its solemn noise ,

H as from thy sceptre pass’d ; and all the air

I s emptied of thy hoary majesty .

Thy thunder , captions at the new command ,Rumbles re luctant o’er our fa llen house ;And thy sharp l ightning , in unpractis

’d hands ,Scourges and burns our once serene domain .

With such remorseless speed sti ll come new woes ,That unbe l ief has not a space to breathe .

Saturn ! s leep on : me thoughtless , why should IThus viola te thy s lumbrous sol i tude ?Why should I ope thy me lancholy eyes ?Saturn ! s leep on , while at thy feet I weep .

As when upon a tranced summer-nightForests , branch-charmed by the earnest s tars ,D ream , and so dream all night without a no ise ,Save from one gradua l sol i tary gus tSwe ll ing upon the s i lence , dying off ,

As if the ebbing air had but one wave ,So came these words and went ; the whi le in tearsShe prest her fa ir large forehead to the earth ,Just where her fallen ha ir m ight spread in curls ,A soft and s i lken ne t for Saturn’s fee t .Long , long these two were pos tured mot ionless ,Like sculpture buil ded-up upon the graveOf the ir own power . A long awful t imeI look’d upon them : st i l l they were thé same ;The frozen God st il l bending to the earth ,And the sad Goddess weeping at his fee t ;Mone ta s i lent . Without stay or propBut my own weak morta l i ty , I boreThe load of this e terna l quie tude ,

The unchanging gloom and the three fixed shape sPonderous upon my senses , a whole moon ;For by my burning bra in I measured sureH er s i lver seasons shedded on the night .And every day byday m ethought I grewMore gaunt and ghos t ly . Oftent imes I pray’d

3so RECONSTRUCTION OF H YPERI ON .

”

Intense , that death would take me from the val eAnd al l its burthens ; gasping wi th despairOf change , hour after hour I curs’d myse lf,Unti l old Saturn rais

’d his faded eyes ,And look’d around and saw his kingdom gonecAnd a ll the gloom and sorrow of the place ,And that fair knee l ing Goddess at his fee t .

As the moist scent of flowers , and grass , '

and leaves ,Fills fores t-del ls wi th a pervading air,

Known to the woodland nostri l , so the wordsOf Sa turn fill’d the mossy glooms around ,Even to the hollows of t ime -eaten oaks ,And to the windings of the foxes’ hole ,Wi th sad , low tones , while thus he spoke , and sentS trange moanings to the so l itary Pan .

Moan , bre thren , moan , for we are swallow’d up

And buried from al l godlike e xerciseOf influence benign on planets pale ,And peaceful sway upon man’

s harvesting,And a ll those acts which D e ity supremeDoth ease its heart of love in . Moan and wail ;Moan , brethren , moan ; for 10, the rebe l

'

spheres

Spin round ; the s tars the ir ancient courses keep ;Clouds still wi th shadowy moisture haunt the earth ,S til l suck the ir fill of l ight from sun and moon ;Sti ll buds the tree , and s ti l l the seashores murmur ;There is no death in a ll the universe ,No sme ll of death . There sha ll be death . Moan , moan

Moan , Cybele , moan ; for thy pernic ious babesH ave chang

’d a god into an aching palsy .

Moan , brethren , moan , for I have no strength leftWeak as the reed , weak, feeble as my voice .

Oh Oh ! the pa in, the pa in of feebleness ;Moan , moan , for still I thaw ; or give me helpThrow down those imps , and give me victory .

Let me hear other groans , and trumpe ts blownOf triumph ca lm , and hymns of festival ,From the gold peaks of heaven’s high -pi led clouds ;Voices of soft procla im , and s i lver s tir

35; RECONSTRUCTION OF “ H YPER1 01V.”

CANTO I I .

MORTAL, that thou may’s t understand aright,I humani ze my sayings to thine ear ,

Making comparisons of earthly things ;Or thou m ight’s t be tter l isten to the wind ,Whose language is to thee a barren noise ,

Though it blows legend- laden thro’ the trees .

I n me lancholy realms big tears are shed ,More sorrow l ike to this , and such l ike woe ,

Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe .

The T i tans fierce , se lf-hid or prison-bound ,G roan for the old al legiance once more ,

Listening in the ir doom for Saturn’s voice .

But one of the whole eagle -brood s till keepsH is sovere ignty , and rule , and majes ty :B lazing H ype rion on his orbed fireS ti ll s i ts , s til l snuifs the incense teem ing upFrom Man to the Sun

’s God yet insecure .

For as upon the earth dire prodigiesFright and perplex , so also shudders he ;Not at dog’s howl or gloom -bird’s ha ted s creech,Or the fam i l iar vis iting of one

Upon the first toll of his pass ing be ll ,Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp ;But horrors , portioned to a giant nerve ,Make great H yperion ache . H is palace bright ,Bastion

’d wi th pyram i ds of shining gold ,And touch’d wi th shade of bronzed obe l isks ,G lares a blood-red thro’ al l the thousand courts ,Arches , and domes , and fiery ga lleries ;And al l its curta ins of Aurorian cloudsFlash angerly ; when he would tas te the wreathsOf incense , breath’d a loft from sacred hills ,Instead of sweets , his ample pa late takesSavour of poisonous brass and me tals s ick ;Wherefore when harbour’d in the s leepy Wes t,After the full comple tion of fa ir day,For rest divine upon e xa lted couch ,And s lumber in the arms of me lody ,(7 ) The rema inde r of this fragment should b e compared in deta i l with

vers ion, Book 1 , lines 1 58- 2 1 7 .

RECONSTRUCTI ON OF “ H YPERI ON .

”353

H e paces through the pleasant hours of ease ,With s tri des colossa l , on from hal l to hal l ,Wh i le far wi thin each a is le and deep recessH is winged m inions in close clus ters s tandAmaz

’d , and full of fear ; l ike anx ious men ,

Who on a wide plain gather in sad troops ,When earthquake s jar their battlements and towers .

Even now where Saturn , rous’d from i cy trance ,

Goes step for step with Thea from yon woods ,H yperion , leaving twil ight in the rear ,

I s s loping to the threshold of the West .Thither we tend .

” Nowin the clear l ight I s tood ,Reliev

’d from the dusk va le . MnemosyneWas s itting on a square-edg’d polish’d stone ,Tha t in its lucid depth reflected pureH er priestess’ garments . My quick eyes ran on

From state ly nave to nave , from vault to vaul t ,Through bow’

rs of fragrant and enwreathed light ,And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades .

Anon rush’d by the br ight H yperion ;H is flam ing robes stream

’d out beyond his heels ,And gave a roar as if of earthy fire ,That scar’d away the meek ethereal hours ,And made their dove-wings tremble . On he flared .

(57 ) Lord H oughton gives diamond-finned here ; but as the l ine is otherwiseident ica l with line 220 of Book I of Hyperion a s printed by Keats, there can b e no

doubt that diamond-paved is the right express ion.

(62) Lord H oughton notes that the manuscript ends here.

POSTH UMOUS AND FUGITIVE POEMS .

ON DEATH .

*

AN death be s leep , when l ife is but a dream ,

And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by ?The trans ient pleasures as a vis ion seem ,

And yet we think the greatest pa in’s to die .

H ow s trange it is that man on earth should roam,

And lead a l ife of woe , but not forsakeHis rugged path ; nor dare he view alone

His future doom which is but to awake .

SONNET TO BYRON .f

YRON how sweetly sad thy melody !Attuning still the soul to tenderness ,As if soft P ity , with unusua l s tress ,

H ad touch’d her pla int ive lute , and thou , be ing by,

H ads t caught the tones , nor suifer’d them to die .

O’ershadowing sorrow does not make thee less

D e l ightful : thou thy griefs dost dressWith a bright ha lo , shining beam i ly ,George Keats as si us these stanzas to the year 1 8 1 4 . The ir only inte rest is in

the somewhat thought 1 ve in they d isp lay for a youth ofKea ts’s age a t that t im e

e ighteen or n ineteen years. I am not aware tha t the s tanza s have been printedbefore .

1“First g iven in the Life , Letter s &c. Vo lum e I , page 1 3, under the date

D ecember 1 8 1 4 . I know of no author ity for insert ing the word ever in the seventhl ine ; b ut it seems highly probable tha t we shou ld read t/wu My g rief : dost everdr ess, and that the word was dropped acc identa l ly in transcription.

358 POSTH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

As when a cloud the golden moon doth ve i l ,I ts s ides are ting

’d wi th a resplendent glow,

Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail ,And l ike fa ir ve ins in sable marble flow ;

S till warble , dying swan still tel l the ta le ,The enchanting tale , the ta le of pleasing woe .

SONNET TO CHATTERTON .

‘

CHATTERTON how very sad thy fateD ear child of sorrow— son of m isery !H ow soon the film of dea th obscur’d that eye,Whence G enius m i ldly flash’d , and high debate .

H ow soon tha t voice , majes ti c and ela te ,Mel ted in dying numbers ! Oh how nighWas night to thy fa ir morning . Thou dids t die

A half-blown flow’re t which cold blas ts amate .

But this is pas t : thou art among the starsOf highes t heaven : to the rol l ing spheres

Thou swee tly singest : nought thy hymning mars ,Above the ingra te world and human fears .

On earth the good man bas e detraction barsFrom thy fa ir name , and waters i t wi th tears .

SONNET TO SPENSER.f

PENSER ! a jealous honourer of thine ,A forester deep in thy m idmost trees ,

Did last eve ask my prom ise to refineSome Engl ish tha t m ight s trive thine ear to

But E lfin Poe t ’tis imposs ibleFor an inhabitant of wintry earthTo rise l ike Phoebus with a golden qui llFire-wing’d and make a morning in his m irth .

“This sonnet a lso was first given in the Life , Letferr &c . in 1 848.

1‘ Lord H oughton ,

who first gave this sonnet in Volume I of the Lzfi,Leffers &c.,

1 848 , appended in the Ald ine ed ition of 1 87 6 the fo l lowing note I am enabledby the 1ndness ofM r. W. A . Longmore ,

nephew ofM r. j . W . [J ig but Ow e 1

11

195Reynolds , to give an exact transcript of th l S sonne t a s written and given to

mother, bythe poet, at his father’

s house in Little Britain. The poem 1 5 dated, in

360 POSTH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

’Tis awful silence then again ;E xpectant stand the spheres ;Breathless the laurel l’d peers ,

Nor move , ti ll ends the lofty stra in,

Nor move t ill M i lton’s tuneful thunders cease ,

And leave once more the ravish’d heavens in peace .

5.

Thou biddest Shakspeare wave his hand ,And quickly forward spring

The Pas s ions—a terr ific bandAnd each vibra tes the string

Tha t wi th its tyrant temper best accords ,While from the ir Mas ter’s lips pour forth the inspiring words.

A s ilver trumpet Spenser blows ,And , as its martia l notes to s ilence flee ,From a virgin chorus flowsA hymn in pra ise of spotless Chas t i ty .

’Tis s till Wild warblings from the o lian lyreEnchantment softly breathe , and tremblingly expire .

7 .

Ne x t thy Tasso’s ardent numbersFloat along the pleased air ,

Cal l ing youth from i dle s lumbers ,Rous ing them from Pleasure’s la ir

Then o’er the s trings his fingers gently move,

And me lt the soul to p i ty and to love .

8 .

But when Tnon joinest with the N ine ,And al l the powers of song combine ,We l isten here on earth :

The dying tones that fill the air,And charm the ear of evening fair ,From thee , great God of Bards , re ce ive the ir heavenly birth.

POS TH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 36 1

H YMN TO APOLLO .

OD of the golden bow,

And of the golden lyre ,And of the golden ha ir ,

And of the golden fire ,CharioteerOf the patient year ,Where where s lept thine ire ,When l ike a blank idiot I put on thy wreath ,

Thy laure l , thy glory ,The l ight of thy s tory ,

Or was I a worm— too low crawl ing , for death ?0 D elphic Apollo

The Thunderer grasp’d and grasp’

d,The Thunderer frown’d and frown’d ;

The eagle’s fea thery name

For wrath became stiffen’d—the sound

Of breeding thunderWent drows ily under ,Muttering to be unbound .

0 why dids t thou pi ty , and for a wormWhy touch thy soft luteTi l l the thunder was mute ,

Why was not I crush’d such a pitifiil germ ?

O D elphic Apollo

3.

The Ple iades were up ,

Wa tching the s ilent air ;The seeds and roots in the EarthWere swe ll ing for summer fare ;

This a lso was first g iven in the L iterary Rema ins , where it stood next to the preced ing ,

though undated . As Lord H oughton re ta ins it be tween the Ode to Apol loand the stanzas To H ope (dated February 1 8 1 5) in the chrono log ica l Ald ineed ition,

the date February 1 8 1 5 may be presumed to be that of the H ymn as we l l asthat of the Ode.

362 POS TH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

The Ocean , its ne ighbour ,Was at its old labour ,

When , who —who did dareTo tie , l ike a madman , thy plant round his brow,

And grin and look proudly ,And b laspheme so loudly,

And live for that honour , to st00p to thee now ?

0 D e lphic Apol lo !

SONNET .

‘

AS from the darkening gloom a s i lver doveUpsoars , and darts into the eas tern l ight ,On p inions that nought moves but pure del ight ,

So fled thy soul into the realms above ,Regions of peace and everlas t ing love ;Where happy spiri ts , crown’

d with c ircle ts brightOf s tarry beam , and glorious ly bedight ,

Tas te the high joy none but the bles t can prove .

There thou or joinest the immorta l quireI n me lodies tha t even heaven fa irFil l with superior bliss , or , a t des ire ,

Of the omnipotent Father , cleav’st the air

On holy message sent What pleasure’s higher ?Wherefore does any grie f our joy impa ir ?

STANZAS TO MISS WYLI Exl'

COME Georg iana ! the rose is ful l blown ,

The riches of Flora are lav ishly s trown ,

The air is a ll softness , and crys ta l the s treams ,

The Wes t is resplendently c lothed in beams .

‘ Lord H oughton gave this sonnet'

n the A ld ine ed ition of 1 87 6, with the date1 8 1 6. The re is nothing to show to whe se dea th the poe t refe rs .

1' The se stanzas

,which a re from the se:ie s of transcripts made by George Kea ts ,

are addressed to the objec t of the Sonne t to G . A . W . published in Kea ts 5 vo lumeof 1 8 1 7

—to wit the la dy who was a fterwards the wife of George Kea ts . Thoughnot so good as the Sonne t , they a re on an equa l ity with the ve rs e s in Keats '

s Tom

Moore manner addre ssed to some lad ies who sent him a sbe l l and a copy of verses.They be long to the year 1 8 1 6.

364 POSTH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

Mus ing on M ilton’s fate on Sydney’s bierT i ll the ir s tern forms before my m ind arise

Perhaps on wing of Poesy upsoar ,Full often dropping a de l icious tear ,When some me lodious sorrow spe lls mine eyes .

SONNET .

"l

TO A YOUNG LADY WHO SENT ME A LAUREL CROWN.

RESH morning gusts have blown away all fearFrom my glad bosom , now from gloom inessI mount for ever— not an atom less

Than the proud laure l shal l content my bier.

No ! by the e ternal sta rs or why sit hereI n the Sun’

s eye , and’

gains t my temples pressApollo’s very leaves , woven to bless

By thy whi te fingers and thy spiri t clear .

Lo ! who dares say, D o this ? ” Who dares cal l downMy wil l from its high purpose ? Who say, S tand ,”

Or Go ? This m ighty moment I would frownOn abject Caesars not the s toutest band

Of ma i led heroes should tear off my crown :

Yet would I kneel and kis s thy gentle hand !

SONNETJ

WRI TTEN I N D I SGUST OF VULGAR SUPERSTI TI ON.

H E church be lls toll a me lancholy round ,Call ing the people to some other prayers ,Some other gloominess , more dreadful cares ,

More hearkening to the sermon’s horrid sound .

Sure ly the m ind of man is closely boundi"First iven b Lord H oughton am ong the Literary Rema ins in Vo lume I I of

the Life , etter r c . I t appears to be long to the yea r 1 8 1 6.

1' I n Torn Kea ts

'

s copy-book this sonnet is headed as above and da ted SundayEvening , D ec . 24 , I n the A ld ine ed ition it is headed Written on a S ummer

POS TH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS . 365

I n some black spel l ; seeing tha t each one tearsH imse lf from fires ide joys , and Lydian a irs ,

And converse high of those with g lory crown’d.

S till , stil l they toll , and I should fee l a damp ,

A chill as from a tomb , did I not knowThat they are dying l ike an outburnt lamp ;That ’tis their s igh ing, wa i l ing ere they goInto oblivion ; tha t fresh flowers wi l l grow,

And many glories of immortal s tamp .

SONNET.

‘

FTER dark vapors have oppress’d our plains

For a long dreary season , comes a dayBorn of the gentle South , and clears away

From the s ick heavens al l unseemly sta ins .

The anxious month , re l ieved of its pa ins ,Takes as a long- lost right the fee l of May ;The eye l ids with the pass ing coolness play

Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer ra ins .

The ca lmes t thoughts came round us ; as of leavesBudding fru i t ripen ing in st i llness—Autumn suns

Sm il ing at eve upon the quie t sheavesSweet Sappho’s cheek—a sm il ing infant’s brea thThe gradua l sand tha t through an hour-glass runs

A woodland r ivu le t— a Poet’s death .

Evening . I g ive the text from the transcript , which varies in some deta i ls fromthe Aldme text. The la tter reads tol l ’a' for tol l i l ine 1

,T0 some blind spel l in line

6,Fond for And in l ine 8 , and a s for er e in l ine 2.

"This sonne t appea red in T/ze E x aminer for the e3rd of February 1 8 1 7 ,and is

da ted j anuary 1 8 1 7 in Lord H oughton'

s ed i tions . I n l ine 5 me E x aminer reads

r elieving of ; his Lordship reads r elieved fr om ,and aga in And for Tlze a t the b e

ginning of l ine 9 ,and sleeping for smiling in l ine 1 2. The word r e lieving in the

ear l ie r version must,I think , have been a s lip ,

and not an intent iona l use o f r elieve

as an intrans itive ve rb , though Keats was perhaps capable of such use in his earlystrife after freshness of speech.

366 POS TH UM OUS AN D FUG I TI VE POEMS .

SONNET.

WR I TTEN oN A BLANK SPACE AT TH E END OF CHAUCER’S TALE OF

TH E FLOURE AND TH E LEFE .

”

H I S pleasant tale is l ike a l i ttle copseThe hon ied l ines so freshly interlaceTo keep the reader in so swee t a place ,

So that he here and there ful l-hearted s tops ;And oftent im es he fee ls the dewy dropsCome cool and suddenly aga ins t his face ,And by the wandering me lody may tra ceWhich way the tender- legged linne t hops .

Oh ! what a power has white S impl ic ityWhat m ighty power has this gentle story !I tha t do even fee l a thirs t for glory ,

Could at this moment be content to lieMeekly upon the grass , as those whose sobbingsWere heard of none bes ide the mournfu l robins .

This sonnet was ub lished in T/ze E x aminer for the 1 6th of March 1 8 1 7 , havingb een written in Fe ruary 1 8 1 7 in the la te Char les Cowden C la rke '

s“m inia ture

1 8mo . copy of Chaucer, as recorded in C la rke ’

s Reco l lec tions of Keats in T/ze

Gentleman’

s M ag az ine. When C la rke d ied , he be queathed the Chauce r to Alexande r I re land

,author of the Le igh H unt

,Lamb

,and H azlitt Bibliography. The

sonne t is sa id to have been an extempore e ffu s ion, and without the a lte ra tion of

a s ingle word ; b ut as Cla rke seems to have been a s leep when it was written weare jus tified in construin the word ex tempor e with a certain la titude . I t was cer

tainlymos t unusua l for ea ts to write tha t much without a s ing le e rasure , and it isquite poss ible tha t he jotted the sonne t down in p enc i l in a note-book which he

ne ts in. I n any ca se he

eping ,to e labora te the two

1 1 and the coup le t are o f

b e extemporary. This ear ly pe rform ance seem s to

have quite won the heart of the genia l crit ic H unt,for in inse rting it in his pape r b e

characterized it as exquis ite , and added tha t the author m ight a lready lay true

cla im to that t itle :The younge st he

That s its in shadow ofApo l lo’

s tree .

”

I t should perhaps b e re corded in th is p lace that Mr. Skea t finds in the languageand prosody of Tlze Flour e and Me Lef e very s trong grounds for rejecting it fromthe ro ll of Chaucer’s works.

368 POSTH UM OUS AN D FUG I TI VE POEMS .

Such dim-conce ived glories of the bra inBring round the heart an undescr ibable feud ;

So do these wonders a mos t di zzy pa in ,

Tha t m ingles Grecian grandeur wi th the rudeWas t ing of old T ime wi th a billowy ma inA sun—a shadow of a magni tude .

SONNET .

‘

ON A P I CTURE OF LEAND ER .

OME h ither a ll swee t ma idens soberly ,D own- looking aye , and wi th a chasten’d l ight ,H id in the fringes of your eye l ids white ,

And meekly le t your fa ir hands joined be ,As if so gent le that ye could not see ,

Untouch’d , a vict im of your beauty bright ,

S inking away to his young spirit’s night ,S inking bewilder’d ’mid the dreary sea’Tis young Leander toi l ing to his death ;N igh swooning , he doth purse his weary l ipsFor H ero

’s cheek , and sm i les aga ins t her sm i le .

O horr id dream ! see how his body dipsD ead-heavy ; arms and shoulders gleam awh ile

H e’s gone ; up bubbles al l his amorous brea th

scr ibable in l ine 1 0 of the sonnet on the Marbles,and g iving kne s 1 2 and 1 3 of the

other thusWith bra inless id iotism and o

’

erwise phlegmThou hads t behe ld the fu l l H esperian shine

Both the vers ions published in Keats ’s l ife-time read as in the text, except that

E lmes has H esperian with an i, probably not noting that the accent was to b e readon the third syllable—H esper ian .

'“This sonne t appeared 1 n the year 1 829 both in The Gem , a Liter ary Annual ,ed ited by Thomas H ood

,and in Ga lignani

’

s ed ition o f She l ley, Kea ts , and Co leridge . I n the same volume of l e Gem where in H ood inse rted this sonnet, hea lso published his own punning verses On a Pictur e of H ero and Leander ,

Why,Lover, why

Such a W a ter-roverWould she love thee more

For com ing na l/ seas over f &c .

I doubt whether so rea l an adm irer and in som e sense s d isc ip le of Keats as H oodwa s wou ld have thought it in good ta ste to invite a compa rison be tween the fl im syc leverness of the se ve rses and the hea rt-fe lt be auty of the sonnet : and I shou ldexp la in to myse lf as an ed itoria l ex igency the not over fortuna te juxtaposition. Thus,the editor of Tbe Gem finds himself in pg ésession of a lovely sonnet on a picture,

POSTH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 369

H INK not of i t , sweet one , so ;G ive it not a tear ;

S igh thou mayst , and bid i t goAny, any where .

D o not look so sad , sweet one ,Sad and fadingly ;

Shed one drop , then i t is gone ,0 ’twas born to die .

3.

S ti ll so pa le ? then dearest weep ;Weep , I’l l count the tears ,And each one sha ll b e a blissFor thee in after years .

and obta ins an engraving of H ero and Leander to insertwith it : when the engravingcome s

, it turns out to represent not the death of Leander , b ut his successfu l landing and recept ion by H e ro , with Cup id flutte ring above ,

torch in hand,and H e ro

’

s

attendant on the stone sta ircase lead ing up to the S estian Temp le . The ed itorcannot sacrifice one of his p rinc ipa l gem s by ca st ing out the sonne t : the publishe rscannot sacrifice the ir costly stee l p la te ; bu t fortuna te ly the ed itor can write to anytext or any p late ; and the resu lt is Why, Love r, why,” facing H ero and Lean

der pa inted by H H oward,R.A. ,

and engraved by F. Eng leheart ,- verses and

print corre spond ing in every deta i l , except of course tha t the pr int is m eant for

serious and the verse s are not . Save for som e such explanat ion, we cou ld hard lya cquit H ood of the imputat ion ofm aking fun of l

iea ts

'

s sonnet.

G iven by Lord H oughton among the Li ter ry Rema ins in Volume I I of the

&c . with the date 1 8 1 7 . H itherto this poem has been headedbut it is so d istinctly an addres s tha t T0 seem s to b e the r ight prepo

sition. I t is not sta ted to whom the ve rs es are addressed. I n Woodhouse ’

s interleaved copy of E ndymion is a trans cr ipt evidently m ade from a working draft.Woodhouse has cop ied in his carefu l and m inute way the who le manuscr ipt withits erasures , the first ofwhich is a cance l led open ing quatra in

Think not o fit gent le sweet

I t is not wor th a tearW i l l thine hea rt less warm ly beatThy voice less c lear ?

Stanza 2 appears to have been orig ina l ly written with the two fina l lines,Shed one drop then only oneSweetly did it die ,


4 .

Brighter has it left thine eyesThan a sunny r i ll ; 1

And thy whispering me lodiesAre tenderer s till .

5.

Yet as al l things mourn awhileAt flee ting blisse s ;

E’en let us too ; but be our dirgeA dirge of kis ses .

LINES .

‘

NFELT , unheard , unseen ,

I’ve left my l it tle queen ,

H er languid arms in s i lver s lumber lyingAh through the ir nestl ing touch ,Who who could te l l how much

There is for madness crue l , or complying ?which are cance l led in favour of those of the text. Lord H oughton'

s rea d ing of

1 84 8 ,Shed one drop (and only one ) ,

m ay perhaps b e deduced from the p re sence of a cance l led an [a'

] benea th t lzen.

For stanza 3 there are the three rejec ted l ines ,W i lt thou mourn,

and wi lt thou sobArt inde ed so and

And for ea ch one for thee I ’l land fina l ly the s tanza is le ft a s g iven in the text and in the A ld ine ed i tion

,Lord

H oughton’s e ar lie r read ing of l ine 3,

For each wi l l I invent a bliss ,be ing struck out ; wh i le the 1 84 8 rea d ing mor e tender for tender er in stanza 4 doe s

no t appear a t a l l . The vers ion of the text , which is a lso tha t of the A ld ine edition,

seems to m e the be tter : it leaves the me tre o f s tanza 4 in confo rm i ty rathe r withtha t of s tan z a 5 than with tha t o f the first three . I n stanza 5 the re is a cance lledread ing , dy ing for fleeting in the second l ine . Lord H ough ton om i ts the E

'

en

a t the beginning of the third l ine from both his ed it ions ; and I think this must b e one

of the m any ca ses in which the re we re two manusc ri ts .

’“Th ese l ine s s tand ne xt to the p reced ing in the iterary Rema ins,and are a lso

ass igned to the year 1 8 1 7 . Lord H oughton gave the quota t ion in the las t line of

stanza 2 as

Love doth know no fu l lne ss and no bounds .

37 2 POS TH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

SONNET .‘

ON LE I GH HUNT’s POEM “ TH E STORY OF R I M I N I .

”

H O loves to peer up at the morn ing sun ,

With half- shut eyes and comfortable cheek ,Let him , with this swee t tal e , full often seek

For meadows where the l i ttle r ivers run ;Who loves to l inger wi th that brightes t oneOf H eaven H esperus le t him lowly speakThese numbers to the night , and s tarl ight meek ,

Or moon , if that her hunting be begun .

H e who knows these de l ights , and too is proneTo mora l i ze upon a smile or tear ,Will find a t once a region of his own ,

A bower for his spirit , and wi l l s teerTo a l leys where the fir- tree drops its cone ,Where robins hop , and fa llen leaves are sear.

FRAGMENT4H ERE

’S the Poe t ? show him ! show him,

Muses nine ! that I may know him !’Tis the man who with a man

I s an equal , be he King ,

Or poores t of the beggar-clan ,

Or any other wondrous thingA man may be

’twi x t ape and P lato ;’Tis the man who with a bird ,Wren , or Eagle , finds his way toAll its instincts ; he hath heard

The Lion’s roaring , and can tell

What his horny throat expresseth,And to him the Tiger’s ye llComes art icula te and presse th

On his ear l ike mother- tongue .

G iven in the Lite rary Rema ins next to the preced ing , and da ted 1 8 1 7 .

1‘This is one of a group of undated fragments given at the end of Volume I ofthe Life, Letter s &c.

POSTH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS . 37 3

FRAGMENT : MODERN LOVE .

‘

ND what is love ? I t is a dol l dress’d upFor idleness to cosse t , nurse , and dandle ;

A thing of soft m isnomers , so divineThat s il ly youth doth think to make itselfD ivine by loving , and so goes on

Yawning and doting a whole summer long ,

T i l l Miss’s comb is made a pearl tiara ,

And common Well ingtons turn Romeo boots ;Then Cleopa tra l ives at number seven ,

And Antony res ides in Brunswick Square .

Fools ! if some pass ions high have warm’d the world ,I f Queens and Soldiers have play’d deep for hearts ,I t is no reason why such agoniesShould be more common than the growth of weeds .

Fools make m e whole aga in that we ighty pear lThe Queen of Egypt me lted , and I’l l sayTha t ye may love in spite of beaver hats .

FRAGMENT OF “ THE CASTLE BU ILDERS“;

TO—N IGHT I’ll have my fn'

ar let me thinkAbout my room , I ’ll have i t in the p ink ;I t should be rich and sombre , and the moon,Jus t in its mid- l ife in the m ids t of June ,

Should look thro’ four large windows and displayClear , but for gold-fish vases in the way,

The ir glassy diamonding on Turkish floor ;The tapers keep as ide , an hour and more ,

To see what else the moon a lone can show ;While the night -breeze doth softly let us knowMy terrace is we l l bower’d with oranges .

Upon the floor the dulles t sp iri t seesM odern Love fol lows Whe re’

s the Poet ? in the group of undated fragments

at the end of Volume I of the Life , Letter s &c .

1“ This fol lows the preced ing fragment in the firs t volume of the Life , Letter s &c

37 4 POS TH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

A gu i tar-ribband and a lady’s gloveBes ide a crumple - leaved tale of love ;A tambour-frame , with Venus s leeping there ,All finish

’d but some ringlets of her hair ;A viol , bow-s trings torn , cross-wise upon

A glorious fol io of Anacreon ;A skull upon a mat of roses lying ,

I nk’d purple with a song concerning dying ;

An hour-glass on the turn , am id the trailsOf passion-flower ; jus t in t ime there sa i lsA cloud across the moon ,

—the l ights bring in !And see wha t more my phantasy can win.

I t is a gorgeous room , but somewhat sad ;The draperies are so, as tho

’ they hadBeen made for Cleopatra’s winding- shee tAnd oppos ite the stedfas t eye doth meetA spacious looking-

glass , upon whose face ,I n letters raven-sombre , you may traceOld Mene , Mene , Teke l Uphars in .

”

G reek bus ts and s tatuary have ever beenH e ld , by the fines t spiri ts , fitter farThan vase grotesque and Siamesian jar ;Therefore ’

tis sure a want of Attic tas teThat I should ra ther love a Gothic was teOf eyes ight on cinque- coloured potter’s clay ,Than on the marble fa irness of old Greece .

My table- coverlits of Jason’s fleece

And black Num id ian sheep-wool should be wrought ,Gold , black , and heavy , from the Lama brought .My ebon sofas should del icious beWith down from Leda’s cygne t progeny .

My pi ctures all Sa lvator’s , save a few

Of T i tian’s portra i ture , and one , though new,

Of H aydon’s in its fresh magnificence .

My wine—O good ! ’tis here at my des ire ,

And I must sit to supper with my friar.

37 6 POSTH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

SONNET.

‘

WH EN I have fears that I may cease to beBefore my pen has glean

’d my teem ing brain,

Before high p i led books , in charactry,

H old l ike rich garners the full ripen’d gra in ;When I behold , upon the night’s s tarr’d face ,

H uge cloudy symbols of a high romance ,And think tha t I may never l ive to traceThe ir shadows , wi th the magi c hand of chance ;

And when I feel , fa ir creature of an hour ,That I shal l never look upon thee more ,

Never have rel ish in the faery powerOf unreflecting love then on the shore

Of the wide world I s tand a lone , and thinkTill love and fame to nothingness do s ink .

SONNET To HOMERsl'

TAND ING a loof in giant ignorance ,Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades ,

As one who s its ashore and longs perchanceTo vis i t dolphin- cora l in deep seas .

So thou was t blind ; but then the ve i l was rent ,

For Jove uncurtain’d H eaven to le t thee l ive ,

And Neptune made for thee a spumy tent ,And Pan made s ing for thee his forest-hive ;

' This sonne t, ofwhich there is a fa irmanuscript da ted 1 8 1 7 in Sir Charles D i lke '

s

copy of E ndymion,was printed among the Lite ra ry Rema ins in the second vo lume

of the Lzyé'

, Letter s &c. The text as g iven above a ccords ent ire ly with themanuscr 1pt .

1-Th is adm irable sonnet a lso occurs in manu script in Sir Charles D ilke '

s cop ofE ndymion, and was inc luded

,l ike the preced ing ,

in the L1 terary Rema ins . he

da te g iven in both place s is 1 8 1 8. The evidence of the manuscript on this po int iso f consequence as bearing on the re lative pos it ions of this sonne t and tha t Onfir st

looking into Cbapman'

s H omer (page 46) I understand the

“

g iant ignorance ofl ine 1 to have reference to Keats s inability to enjoy H omer in the orig ina l G reek

,

and not to an ent ire ignorance of the I l iad and Odyssey such as m ight have cha racte riz ed the period be fore the sonne t on Chapman

’

s ve rs ion was wri tten in 1 8 1 6.

I ndeed the second quatra in seem s to m e to b e too we l l fe lt for so vague an a tt i tudea s Keats

’

s must have been towa rds H om e r before he knew any ve rs ion a t a l l ; but

the la te D ante Gabrie l Rosse tt i , whose intuit ions in such ma tte rs we re of the

keenest,and ent itled to the most care fu l cons ide ra t ion,

he ld that the pre sent sonnet

POS TH UM OUS AN D FUG I TI VE POEMS . 37 7

Aye on the shores of darkness there is l ight ,And precipices show untrodden green ,

There is a budding morrow in m idnight ,There is a triple s ight in blindness keen ;

Such see ing hadst thou , as i t once befelTo D ian , Queen of Earth , and H eaven , and H e ll .

A DRAUGH T OF SUNSH INE .

”

ENCE Burgundy , Clare t , and Port ,Away with old H ock and Made ira ,

Too earthly ye are for my sport ;There’s a beverage brighter and clearer .

Instead of a pit iful rummer ,

My wine overbrims a whole summer ;My bowl is the sky,

And I drink a t my eye ,

T il l I fee l in the bra inA D elphian pa in

Then follow, my Ca ius ! then followOn the green of the hillWe wil l drink our fil l

must have preceded tha t of 1 8 1 6, and rece ived with cons iderable re serve the evi

dence a s to the da te which I commun icated to him in the course of our correspond

ence . I t wi l l b e of intere st to many love rs both of Kea ts and of Rossetti to learntha t the later poet whom we have but la te ly lost cons ide red this sonne t to conta inKeats

’

s finest s ingle l ine of poetryThere is a budd ing morrow in m idnigh t,

a l ine which Rossett i told me he thought one of the fine s t in a l l poetry. No one

wi ll d ispute that it is a most as ton ishing l ine ,more part icula rly for a young m an of

Keats'

s years in 1 8 1 8 . The text g iven above is tha t of Sir Cha rl es D i lke '

s m anu

scr ipt , in which , however , the word spumy in l ine 7 is a lte red to spermy in wha tseem s to me to b e the handwriting o f M r. D i lke , the grandfa ther of the present

Baronet .’“These l ine s are part of an extract from a le tter to Reyno lds da ted H ampstead ,

Jan . 3rst , 1 8 1 8 , published in Vo lum e I of the Life , Letter s &c . bu t om itted. rom the Life and Letter s of 1 867 as a page of dogge re l no t worth t ranscr ip tion .

The t im e ha s now come when s tudents w i ll fee l enti t led to have even Keats’

s dog

gere l , som e of which,by the bye , has far le ss reason (and rhyme too ) than the

pre sent effusion— to mym ind ra ther a b righ t and happy spec im en,notwithstand ing

Kea ts’

s own p lea to his correspondent , you must forgive a ll this ranting ; b ut thefac t is

, I cannot write sense this m orning .

" W ith the view of g iving Reyno lds“some sense neve rthe less , he p roce eds to copy out his la test sonne t , When I

have fears &c. To the present fragment 1 have ventured to add a very obvioustitle ,

37 8 POSTH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

Of golden sunshine ,T i l l our bra ins intertwineWith the glory and grace of Apol lo !G od of the Meridian ,

And of the East and We s t ,To thee my soul is flown ,

And my body is earthward press’d .

I t is an awful m iss ion ,

A terrible div is ion ;And leaves a gulph aus tereTo be fill

’

d wi th worldly fear .

Aye , when the soul is fledTO high above our head ,Affrighted do we ga zeAfter its a iry maze ,As doth a mothe r wi ld ,When her young infant ch ildI s in an eagle’s clawsAnd is not this the cause

Of madness ? God of Song,Thou bearest me a longThrough s ights I sca rce can bearO let me ,

le t me shareWith the hot lyre and thee ,

The sta id Philosophy .

Temper my lone ly hours ,And le t me see thy bowersMore unalarm

’d

FAERY SONGS .

‘

H ED no tear O shed no tear !The flower wi l l bloom anothe r year .

Weep no more O weep no more !

Young buds s leep in the root’s whi te core .

D ry your eyes O dry your eye s ,(35) I n the Life ,

Letters &c . ba r e s tands in p lace o f bear ; and ve ry l ike ly Kea ts

wrote ba r e here a s he oftendid e lsewhe re fo r bea r .

"These two songs appeared in the Life , Letter s &c . ( 1 84 8) among the Lite raryRema ins ; and a fac-s im i le of the manuscr ip t of No . I wa s inserted in the second

380 POSTH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

SONG .

WR I TTEN ON A BLANK PAGE I N BEAUMONT AND FLETCH ER’S

WORKS , BETWEEN CUPI D’S REVENGE ”

AND TH E Two NOBLE

KI NSMEN .

”

A .

PIRIT here that re ignestSp ir i t here tha t painest !Spiri t here that burnest !

Spiri t here tha t mournest !

Spiri t , I bowMy forehead low,

Enshaded wi th thy pinions .

Spiri t , I lookAll pass ion- s truckInto thy pale dom inions .

Spiri t here that laughest !Spirit here that qua ffestSpiri t here that dancest !Noble soul that prancest !

Spiri t , with theeI join in the gleeA-nudging the e lbow of Momus .

Spiri t , I flushWi th a Bacchanal blushJus t fresh from the Banque t of Comus .

First g iven among the Literary Rema ins in 1 84 8 as an independent song ; b ut in.

cluded in the A ld ine ed ition among Fa ery Song s , with the two preced ing . The fa ct

tha t the Song wa s wri tten whe re it wa s leads m e to p re fe r the ear lier arrangement .

The varia t ion from the pr inted text shown by the m anusc rip t in the third and fourthl ine s of each s tanza is curious , name ly bur netn,

monr netb,daneet/z , and pr aneet/z.

The re are seve ra l d ifference s of punc tua t ion which I have adopted ; and the re is acance l led read ing , wing s for pinions in l ine 7 of s tanza 1 . Lord H oughton reads

W/zile nudging in stanza 2.

POSTH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 38 1

STANZAS

N a drear-nighted D ecember,Too happy , happy tree ,

Thy branches ne’

er rememberThe ir green fe l ici ty

The north cannot undo them ,

With a s leety whist le through them ;Nor frozen thawings glue themFrom budding at the prime .

I n a drear-nighted D ecember ,Too happy , happy brook ,

Thy bubblings ne’er remember

Apollo’s summer look ;

But wi th a sweet forge tt ing ,

They s tay the ir crysta l fretting,Never , never pe tting

About the frozen t ime

Ah would ’twere so with manyA gentle g irl and boy !

But were there ever anyWrith

’

d not a t passed joy?To know the change and feel i t ,When there is none to hba l i t ,Nor numbed sense to stea l it ,Was never said in rhyme .

I have not succeeded in trac ing this poem furthe r back than to G a lignani'

s edit ion of She l ley , Keats , and Cole ridge I n 1 830 it appea red in Tbe Gem ,

a

Liter ary Annua l . Some years ago a corre spondent sent me for inspection a m anu

script varying s l ight ly from the rece ived text thus , each stanza beganwith I n dr ea rnig /zted D ecember ; the second nappy in l ine 2 0f stanza 1 appeared to b e an a fter

thought ; in stanza 3, l ine 2,[zappy stood cance l led in favour of g entle, and l ine 5

wasThe fee l of not to fee l it.

I n Tbe Gem we read told for said in the las t l ine .

382 P OS TH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

SONNET .

TH E H UMAN SEASONS .

FOUR Seasons fil l the measure of the year ;

There are four seasons in the mind of manH e has his lus ty Spring , when fancy clear

Takes in al l beauty wi th an easy spanH e has his Summer, when luxurious lySpring’s honied cud of youthful though t he loves

To ruminate , and by such dream ing nighH is neares t unto heaven : quiet coves

His soul has in its Autumn , when his wingsH e furle th close ; contented so to look

On m is ts in idleness — to le t fa ir thingsPass by unheeded as a threshold brook .

H e has his Winter too of pale m isfeature ,Or e lse he would forego his mortal nature .

This sonne t and tha t to A ilsa Rock we re firs t published , with the s ignature I,

"

in Le igh H unt’

5 L 1 ter ary Pocket-B oob or

,Companionfor Me Lover of N atur e and

Ar t ,— the first number,tha t for 1 8 1 9 , in which She l ley's M a r ianne s D r eam ap

peared with the s igna ture “A.

"The crit ic of B lackwood

’

s M a a z zne must haved iscovered the secre t o f the s igna ture s by som e means , and was 0 course not abovemaking use o f his d iscovery ; for in noticin the Pocket-Boob he describe s thesesonne ts with cha racteris t i c r iba ldry as two ea ts o f Johnny Kea ts . The only variation of consequence shown by the Pocke t-B oob as compa red with the current

texts of the present sonne t is in l ines 7 and 8 , whe re the usua l read ing 1 5by such dream ing h igh

I s neares t unto H eaventhis is ce rta inly a more usua l sense than tha t of the text as given above ; but Ishould not venture to adopt it without knowing upon wha t manuscript authorit , as

the o ther seems to m e the more characte ristic in its s tra in after orig ina li ty ofl

ex

press ion. I take rin to b e a ve rb ; and I think students wi ll adm i t that mg} : bisnea r est unto b eaven

,for appr oa ch lzis near est unto beaven,

is tame compared withsome of the nove lties of E ndymion.

384 POS TH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

When every childish fashionH as vanish

’

d from my rhyme ,Will I , grey -

gone in pass ion,

Leave to an after- time ,H ymning and harmony

Of thee , and of thy works , and of thy life ;But va in is now the burning and the s trife ,Pangs are in va in , unt i l I grow high-rifeWith old Phi losophy ,And mad wi th gl impses of futuri ty !For many years my ofl

'

ering mus t be hush’d ;When I do speak , I ’l l think upon this hour,Because I fee l my forehead hot and flush’d ,

Even at the s imples t vassa l of thy power,A lock of thy bright ha ir ,Sudden i t came ,

And I was startled , when I caught thy nameCoupled so unaware ;

Yet , at the moment , temperate was my blood .

I thought I had beheld i t from the flood .

SONNET .

‘

ON S I TTI NG DOWN TO READ KI NG LEAR ONCE AGAIN .

GOLDEN tongued Romance , wi th serene lute !Fa ir plumed Syren , Queen of far-away !Leave me lodizing on this wintry day,

Shut up thine Olden pages , and be muteAdieu ! for , once aga in , the fierce disputeBetwi x t damnation and impassion

’d clay

Must I burn through ; once more humbly assay

(23) The copy in Sir Charles D i lke '

s E ndymion reads pa ssion here as we ll as inl ine 2 -

pre sumably through overs ight .(32 Lord H oughton in 1 84 8 and 1 867 rea d wed for mad ; b ut substituted mad

in the Aldine ed ition of 1 87 6, in accordance with Sir C. D i lke ’

s manuscripts . The

copy in the fo l io Shakespea re rea ds a t for of:

(36) Cance l led manuscript read ing , At Me most simple .

(37 - 8 ) These form one l ine in both manuscripts .

This sonnet appears to have been wri tten on the 22nd of January 1 8 1 8 , in the‘fol io Shakespeare conta ining the manuscript o f the preced ing poem ; but I thinkKea ts must have drafted it before writing it in the Shakespeare ; and there is a

POSTH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEM S . 385

The bitter-swee t of this Shakespearian frui tChief Poet ! and ye clouds of Albion ,

Bege tters of our deep e terna l them e !

When through the old oak Forest I am gone

Let me not wander in a barren dream ,

But , when I am consumed in the fire ,Give me new Phoeni x wings to fly at my desire .

SONNET TO TH E N I LE .

”l

ON of the old moon-mounta ins African !Chief of the Pyram id and Crocodile !We ca l l thee fruitful , and , that ve ry while ,

A desert fi lls our see ing’s inward span ;

Nurse of swart na tions S ince the world began ,

Art thou so fruitful ? or dost thou begui leSuch m en to honour thee , who , worn with toi l ,

second manuscript in Sir Charles D ilke ’

s copy of E ndymion. A third mayperhapsbe presumed to b e in America ,

as Keats , writ ing to his brothers on the 23rd of

January 1 8 1 8 , transcribed the sonnet for them with the fo l lowing remarksI think a l ittle change has taken p lace in myinte llect late ly ; I cannot bear to be

uninterested or unemp loyed ,I,who for so long a t im e have been addicted to pas

siveness; Nothing is finer for the purpose s of grea t product ions than a very gradua l ripening of the intel lectua l owe rs . AS an instance of this Observe —I sat

down yesterday to read King a r'

once aga in : the thing appeared to demand

the pro lo)gue of a sonnet. I wrote it, and began to read . ( I know you wou ld l ike

to see it.

A copy of the sonnet fol lows , and then the words , So you see I am ge tting at it

with a sort of determ ination and s trength SO far a s I have a scerta ined ,the first

appea rance of the sonne t was with this le tter , in the Life , Letters &c . ( 1 84 8) Vo lume

1 , pages 9 6 and 9 7 ; b ut Medwin, in his Life of She l ley ( 1 847 , Vo lume 1 1, page 1 06)

records the be lief tha t the sonne t had a lready appeared in a period ica l . Lord

H oughton gave the t itle a s above in 1 848 ; and 56it s tands in both the manuscriptsI have seen ; b ut in the Ald ine ed it ion of 1 87 6 it is Written befor e r e-r eading KmgLear . There a re severa l po ints in which the m anuscripts vary from the text a sprevious ly printed ; and the new read ings adopted above are from these manu

scripts . The first variat ion to note is in line 2,where previous vers ions stand thus

Fa ir plumed Syren ! Queen ! if far away !Lord H oughton a lso reads volume forpag es in l ine 4 ,

H e l l torment for damnation in

l ine 6, drops the word numbly from l ine 7 , and the hyphen between bitter and sweet

in l ine 8,and g ives l ine 1 1 thus

When I am through the old oak forest gone

read ing a lso wit/z for in in l ine 1 3. I n one of the manuscripts tlzis is cance lled infavour of our in l ine 1 0.

*This sonne t seems to have been composed on the 4 th of February 1 8 1 8 ; for inwriting to his brothers (Life , Letters &c .,

1 848 , Vo lume 1 , page 9 8) on the 1 6th of

POS TH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

Rest for a spa ce ’twi x t Cairo and D ecan ?0 may dark fancies err they surely do ;

’Tis ignorance tha t makes a barren was teOf all beyond itse lf, thou dos t be dewGreen rushes l ike our r ivers , and dost tas te

The pleasant sunrise , green is les has t thou too ,And to the sea as happily dos t has te .

WHAT TH E TH RUSH SAID .

‘

LI NES FROM A LETTER TO JOHN HAM I LTON REYNOLD S .

TH OU whose face hath fel t the Winter’s wind ,Whose e e has seen the snow- clouds hung in m ist ,And the black elm tops ’mong the freezing s tars ,

To thee the spring wi l l be a harves t- t ime .

O thou , whose only book has been the l ightOf supreme darkness which thou feddes t onN ight after night when Phoebus was away ,To thee the Spring shal l be a triple mom .

that month , a Monday,Keats says The Wednesday before las t

, She lley , H unt

and I , wrote ea ch a sonne t on the ri ve r N i le : some day you sha l l read them a l l.Lord H oughton appended Kea ts’s sonne t to the le tte r, togethe r with Le igh-H unt

'

s,

and She lley 's Ozymandias . The N i le sonne t of She lley , d iscove red wi thin the las tfew years

,wi l l b e found with H unt

'

s in the Append ix . O f Kea ts'

s there I s a fa ircopy among those wri tten in Sir Cha rles D i lke ’

s copy of E ndymion . From thismanuscript the re are three ve rba l varia t ions in Lord H oughton'

s ed itions,S tr eam

for Cbief in l ine 2,T/zose for S a c/z in l ine 7 ,

and ikem for for in l ine 8 ; and thepunc tua t ion of the seste t is d iffe rent more correc t gramma tica lly, but less rap idme trica l ly

,and I think le ss char ac te ristic .

I n an unda ted let ter to Reynolds bearing the postmark H ampstead ,Feb . 1 9 ,

1 8 1 8"

(Life, Letters &c . , 1 84 8, Vo lum e I, page occurs the passage

— “I was

led into these thoughts , my dear Reyno lds , y the beauty of the m orning ope ra t ingon a sense of id lene ss. I have not read any books— the morning sa id I was right— I had no idea b u t of the morning , and the thrush sa id I was right , seem ing to

say, and these fourteen l ines of b lank verse fo l low imm ed ia te ly on the word say ,

so tha t the t itle I have ventured to g ive the l ine s accords a t a ll events w i th the facts .

Kea ts seems to have been rea l ly writ ing in a kind of sp iri tua l p ara l le l ism with the

thrush 's song : it wi l l b e noted that l ine 5 repea ts the form o f l ine 1,l ine 8 of l ine 4 ,

while l ines 1 1 and 1 2 are a sti l l c loser repe t ition o f l ine s 9 and 1 0 ; so tha t the poemfo l lows in a sense the thrush ’

s m e thod o f repe ti tion. A la te r poe t , pe rhaps a c loserand more consc ious obse rver than Kea ts , name ly Robert Browning ,

says of the samebird in his H ome Tbong /its fr om Abr oad

Tha t 's the wise thrush ; he s ings e ach song twice overLe st you should think he neve r could re cap ture

The first fine ca re less raptu re !H aving se en the or igina l lette r to Reyno lds , I have co l la ted the te xt ofKeats 's linesWith the manuscrip t, where in they are not indented as above . The a rrangement


Forget-me -not , the Blue be ll , and , that QueenOf secrecy , the Violet : wha t strange powers

H as t thou , as a mere shadow But how great ,When in an Eye thou art , al ive wi th fate

SONNET TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLD S .

‘

THAT a week could be an age , and we

Fe l t part ing and warm mee t ing every week ,Then one poor year a thousand years would be ,

The flush of we lcome ever on the cheekSo could we l i ve long l ife in l itt le space ,

So t ime i tse lf would be annihi late ,

So a day’s journey in oblivious hazeTo serve our joys would lengthen and dilate .

O to arri ve each Monday morn from I nd

To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant !I n l i ttle t ime a hos t of joys to bind ,And keep our souls in one e terna l pant

This morn , my friend , and yester-evening taughtMe how to harbour such a happy thought .

TE IGNMOUTH : 1

SOME DOGGEREL ,

”SENT I N A LETTER To B . R . HAYDON.

ERE all the summer could I stay,For there’s Bishop’s teignAnd King’s teign

And Coomb at the clear te igh headWhere c lose by the s treamYou may have your cream

All spread upon barley bread .

First g iven among the Li tera ry Rema ins,in the Life , Let/er : &c. not

da ted ,b ut stand ing next to the sonne t on blue eyes

,which is da ted Februa r 1 8 1 8.

1"Kea ts

’

s corre spondence for the Spring of 1 8 1 8 shows that on his arriva l in evonshire he had on his hands ,

be s ides a ttendance on his s ick brother, the fina l workconnec ted with the ub lica tion of E ndym zon. At the end of the firs t ten days hewrites to H aydon of

)

having copied the fourth book for the press ; and between the

POSTH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 389

There’s arch BrookAnd there’s larch Brook

Both turning many a m i ll ;And cool ing the drouthOf the salmon’

s mouth ,And fattening his s i lver gill .

3.

There is Wild wood ,A M i ld hood

To the sheep on the lea o’the down ,Where the golden furze ,

With its green , thin spurs ,

Doth catch a t the ma iden’s gown .

4 .

There is Newton marshWith its spear grass harsh

A pleasant summer leve lWhere the ma idens swee tOf the Marke t S tree t ,

D o meet in the dusk to revel .comple t ion of that opera tion and the end ofApri l , when the poem was out, he must

have been more or l ess busy with it . Probab ly a lso the greater part of I sabel la wascomposed a t Te ignmouth

,see ing that it wa s from that p lace tha t he wrote of it to

Reynolds toward s the end of his stay,as abou t to b e cop ied out. The se c ircum

stances wou ld a ccount for the l im i ted extent of the se ries of poems spec ia l to D evonshire . These ,

a lthough infe rior in interes t to the S cott ish se ries o f the Summ er o f

1 8 1 8 , are fu l l of the ind ividua l i ty ofKeats . The firs t p iece we may safe ly a ss ign tothe 1 4 th of Ma rch 1 8 1 8. I t occurs in a letter to H aydon published by M r. TomTaylor in H aydon’

s Autobiography without any date beyond Teignmouth, Sa tur

daymorning ; b ut the ve rse s form ,with the next song ,

the s ta ple of the letter,and

appear from the context to have been written off a s a part of it, and not copiedinto it. The da te of the le tter is to b e fixed thus : Keats says in the prose pa ra

graph ofwhich the verses a re the continua tion The first days I was here itdid nothing b ut ra in ; and a t that t ime ,

having to write to a friend,I gave D evon

shire a good blowing-up . I t has be en fine for a lmost three days , and I was com inground a bit , b u t to-dayit ra ins aga in. W ith me the countyis on its good behaviour.I have enjoyed the most de l ightfu l wa lks the se three fine days

,beaut ifu l enough to

make m e content."Now on the 2sth of March Kea ts wro te to Reynolds of the

weather as if the county's tria l had la sted three weeks this give s the 4 th as the dayof his a rriva l ; and the tenth day from that (when he was writ ing to H aydon) wou ldb e the 1 4 th ,

which was a S a turday. Kea ts describes the se verses as some

cloggre l."

I f he had ga thered a ll the ir loca l de ta i ls in the three fine days , he had not

39 0 POSTH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

5.

There’s the Barton richWith dyke and ditch

And hedge for the thrush to live inAnd the hollow treeFor the buzzing bee

And a bank for the wasp to hive in.

6.

And 0, and O

The da isies blowAnd the pr imroses are waken’d,

And the violets whiteSit in s i lver pl ight ,

And the green bud’s as long as the

7 .

Then who would goInto dark Soho ,

And chatter wi th dack’d bair’d criti cs ,When he can stayFor the new-mown-hay,

And s tartle the dappled Pricke ts ?been id le ; for he had been exp loring bo th s ides o f the Estuary of the Teign.

S tart ing from Te ignmouth a long the r igh t-hand bank he wou ld come to Bishop '

s

Teignton about three m i les d istant,and King '

s Teignton or Teignton Reg is aboutfive m i les d istant ; and cross ing the fe rry at Te ignmouth to ge t to the left-handbank he wou ld go through Sha ldon and Ringmore to ge t to the vil lage of Coombiii-Teign

-H ead— perhaps three or four m i les from his lodgings . H e cou ld nothave had his cream and barley bread c lose to the stream in the Village proper ; buttwenty or

O

thirty years la ter , and onwards , the re was ce rta inly eve ry accommodationof tha t kind in a group of curious old cottages pe rched up ove r the mud—banks , andknown as Coomb Ce l lars— a favourite p lace for pic

-nics, no t so ce lebra ted for

cream a s for cockle s , raked out of the mud bottom of the Es tuary a t low t ide .

There we re two brooks in and near Te ignmouth— one in Brim ley Va le and theother in Coomb Va le (nothing to do with Coomb-in—Teign-H ead on the Sha ldonbank) b ut I neve r heard these ca l led Arch Brook and La rch Brook . The W i ldword o f stanza 3 answers to any of the thick p lanta t ions of Li ttle H a ldon on the

Exeter road ,— a down such as Kea ts describe s—furze and a l l. Newton Abbott

or N ewton Bushe l , about six m i les from Te ignmouth,l ies in a maishy s itua tion

enough , though the name of“the Ma rsh ha s be en appropria ted to a Spot near

the Ra i lway station . The town sti l l has ,l ike most country towns of any conse

quence ,a Marke t S tree t . Of the dykes d itche s &c . of the Ba rton I can give no

a ccount , as I do not know to what pa rticu lar manor-house and deme sne the te rmwas ever app lied a t Te ignmouth. There is a touch of

“ loca l colour in the white


But O , on the heather to lie together ,With both our hearts a -beat ing !

I’ll put your Basket a ll safe in a nook ,Your shawl I hang up on the wi l low,

And we wi ll s igh in the da isy’s eye

And kiss on a grass green p i llow.

EPISTLE TO JOH N H AMILTON REYNOLD S .

‘

DEAR Reynolds as last night I lay in bed ,There came before my eyes tha t wonted threadOf shapes , and shadows , and remembrances ,

That every othe r m inute vex and please :Things a ll disjointed come from north and south ,Two Witch’s eyes above a Cherub’s mouth ,Volta ire wi th casque and shie ld and habergeon ,

And Alexander wi th his nightcap on ;

You ; but as u in D evonshi re is pronounced a s in in (French ) or 24e (Germ an)Kea ts may a t fi rs t have taken You fo r Ye : inde ed , in a le tte r to his brothe r Tomwritten from D umfries in Ju ly 1 8 1 8 he says I n D evonshire they say,

'We l l,

where b e ye go ing ? - a n inaccuracy leading a lmost ce rta inly to this conc lus ion.

The late D ante G abrie l Rosse tt i po inted out in one of his le tte rs to me that the firstverse is undoubted ly a rem iniscence from one of the songs in fi l la beginning

As E leanor by the gre en lesse l l wa s s i ttingwhich aga in (as shown by Ed itors ) is a rem iniscence from a pas sage in Tomd

'

Urfey’

s l ls to P urg e M el ancholy . The s tanza of Cha tte rton re fe rred to is as .

fo l lowsMie husbande ,

Lorde Thoma s , a forres te r b ou lde ,

As eve r c love pynne ,or the ba ske tte ,

D oes no che rysauncys front E lynour hou lde ,

I have ytte a s soone a s I a ske ytte .

The para l lel ism lends a s trong lite rary inte re st to Kea ts's l i ttle j eze d ’esprif , sec iu

tha t within five days of the t im e when T/ze D evon M a zd (as I have ventured to ca l

the song ) was wri tten ,he wa s inscribing Endym ion “

to the memory o f the most

Engl ish of poe ts e xcept Shakspea re ,Thomas Cha tte rton ,

—a ded ication,by the

bye , wh ich Rosse tt i was ve ry anxious to se e re ta ined : it wi l l b e found a long withthe cance l led Preface (page Lord H oughton om i ts s tanza 2. The text ofThe D evon M a za

'

has be en re s tored,like tha t of Tezg nmout/z , from the letter : there

is no doub t about any one word : and I am a t a loss to unders tand M r . Taylor'schanges , e spe c ia lly a’z

’

wne ly for dzsda znly,which makes good sense and good rhym e

,

though a l icent ious fo rm .

This ep istle with a few l ine s of introduc tion in p rose was written a t Te ignmouth ,and is dated the 2sth of Ma rch 1 8 1 8 in the s e ,

Letter s &c .,whe re it first appe ared .Keats says to his friend I n hopes of cheering you through a m inute or two

,I

POSTH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS . 39 3

Old Socrates a- tying his cravat ,And H azl itt playing wi th Miss Edgeworth’s cat ;And Junius Brutus , pretty we ll so so ,

Making the best of ’5 way towards Soho .

Few are there who escape these vis i tings ,Perhaps one or two whose l ives have patent wings ,And thro’whose curta ins peeps no hell ish nose ,No wi ld-boar tushes , and no Merma id’s toes ;But flowers burs t ing out wi th lusty pride ,And young E ol ian harps personify’d ;Some T it ian colours touch’d into real l ife ,

The sacrifice goes on ; the pont iff knifeG leams in the Sun , the m i lk-white he ifer lows ,The pipes go shri lly , the l ibat ion flows :A white sa i l shows above the green-head cliff,Moves round the point , and throws her anchor stiff ;The mariners join hymn wi th those on land .

You know the Enchanted Castle , i t doth standUpon a rock , on the border of a Lake ,

Nes ted in trees , which all do seem to shakeFrom some old magi c- l ike Urganda

’s Sword .

0 Phoebus ! tha t I had thy sacred wordTo show this Castle , in fa ir dream ing wise ,Unto my friend , whi le s ick and i l l he l iesYou know i t we ll enough , where i t doth seem

A mossy place , a Merl in’s H all , a dream ;

You know the clear Lake , and the l ittle Isles ,The mounta ins blue , and cold near ne ighbour ri lls ,Al l which elsewhere are but half animate ;There do they look a live to love andhate ,

was determ ined , wi l l he ni l l he ,to send you some l ines

,so you wil l excuse the un

connected subject and care less ve rse . You know,I am sure

, C laude '

s EnchantedCast le ,’ and I wish you may b e p leased wi th my remembrance of it.

”

Some thirtyyears ago,

this p icture emerged from Lord Ove rstone’

s col lection a t Wickham Park ,Brom ley , and was exhibited a t the British I nstitution . I t was a favourite in Kea ts’sc irc le H unt

,in I mag ina tion and Fancy ,

says of the peri lous seas in faery landsforlorn "

passage in the Ode to a N ig /zting a le , This beats Claude ’

s EnchantedCast le , and the story of King Beder in the Arabian Nights .

"

( 1 1 ) The te rm pr etty wel l so s o was used by Keats ’s se t to s ignify pr etty wel ltipsy ; and this sense is destroyed by the comma which has hitherto stood be tweenpr etty wel l and so so.

( 1 4 ) The metre here probably impl ies the col loquia l pronunciation pr ays for

39 4 POSTH UM OUS AM ) FUG I TI VE POEMS .

To smi les and frowns ; they seem a l ifted moundAbove some giant , puls ing underground .

Part of the Bui lding was a chos en See ,

Buil t by a banish’d Santon of Cha ldee ;The other part , two thousand yea rs from .him ,

Was bui l t by Cuthbert de Saint Al debrim ;Then there’

s a l i ttle wing ,far from the Sun ,

Bui l t by a Lapland Wi tch turn’d maudl in Nun ;

And many other juts of aged s toneFounded wi th many a mason-devil’s groan .

The doors al l look as if they op’

d themse lves ,The windows as if latch

’d by Fays and E lves ,And from them comes a s i lver flash of l ight ,As from the wes tward of a Summer’s night ;Or l ike a beauteous woman

’s large blue eyes

Gone mad thro’olden songs and poes ies .

See wha t is com ing from the distance dim !A golden Ga lley a ll in s i lken trimThree rows of oars are l ightening , moment whi les ,Into the verd

’rous bosoms of those is les ;

Towards the shade , under the Cas tle wal l ,I t comes in s i lence ,

— now’tis hidden al l .

The Clarion sounds , and from a Pos tern-

gateAn echo of swee t mus ic doth createA fear in the poor H erdsman , who doth bringHis beasts to trouble the enchanted spring ,

H e te lls of the swee t mus ic , and the spot ,To al l his friends , and they be l ieve him not .

0 that our dream ings all , of s leep or wake ,Would al l the ir colours from the sunse t take :From some thing of materia l sublime ,

Rather than shadow our own soul’s day- timeI n the dark void of night . For in the worldWe jos tle , but my flag is not unfurl

’d

(54 ) The la te D ante Gabr ie l Rosse tt i wrote to m e that he though t this l ine wa s arepetition of som e thing e lsewhe re in Keats . Perhaps he had in his m ind the linesfrom the poem on see ing M il ton’

s ha irW i l l I , grey gone in pass ion,

And mad wi th gl impse s of futurity !

39 6 POSTH UMOUS AN D FUG I TI VE POEMS .

DAWLISH FAIR.

‘

VER the H i ll and over the D ale ,And over the Bourne to D awl ish ,

Where g inger-bread wives have a s canty sal eAnd ginger-bread nuts are smal l ish .

FRAGMENT or AN ODE To MAIA.f

WRI TTEN ON MAY DAY I 8 I 8 .

OTH ER of H ermes and s til l youthful Maia !May I s ing to thee

As thou was t hymned on the shores of Ba im?Or may I woo thee

I n earl ier S ic i l ian ? or thy sm i lesSeek as they once were sought , in G recian is les ,By bards who died content on pleasant sward ,Leaving great verse unto a l i ttle clan ?

0, g ive me the ir old vigour , and unheardSave of the quie t Primrose , and the span

Of heaven and few ears ,

Rounded by thee , my song should die awayContent as the irs ,

Rich in the s imple worship of a day.

This scrap occurs in a le tter toIJ‘

ame s Rice ,written from Te ignmouth on the 2sth

ofMa rch 1 8 1 8 ,and published by ord H oughton in the first vo lume of the s e

,

Letter s &c . Kea ts c loses his le tter wi th I went yesterday to D awl ishfa ir

,

"and this quatra in. The hi lly wa lk to D awl ish is recorded with topographica l

accura cy. Whe the r the re st is obse rva tion or (as is more probable ) m ere rhyme,

I cannot say.

1“ First g iven in the Life , Letter s &c . ( 1 848) in a le tte r to Reynolds from Teign

mouth , da ted the 3rd of May 1 8 I 8,where in Kea ts say s it is imposs ible to know

how far knowledge wi l l conso le us for the dea th o f a friend , and the‘

il ls tha t fle sh ishe ir to .

’ W ith respect to the affect ions and poetry , you must know by sympa thymy thoughts tha t way,

and I dare say the se few l ines wi ll b e but a rat ifica tion. I

wrote them on May-d ay, and intend to finish the ode a ll in good t ime . Lord

H oughton very aptly obse rve s I t is m uch to b e regre tted he did not finish thisOde ; this commencement is in his be st manner : the sentiment and exp ress ion pe rfeet

,a s every trave l le r in mode rn G ree ce wi l l recognize . An Ode so p rop itious ly

begun wou ld ,if comp leted ,

have be en a worthy ending for the D evonshire series,though inc luding what I be lieve I am not alone in rega rd ing as Keats

'

smasterp iece,

POS TH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 39 7

SONG .

HUSH , hush ! tread softly ! hush , hush my dear !

All the house is as leep , but we know very we l lThat the jealous , the jealous old bald-pate may hear .

Tho’ you’ve padded his night-cap 0 sweet Isabe l

Tho’ your feet are more l ight than a Fa iry’s feet ,Who dances on bubbles where brooklets meet ,

H ush , hush ! soft tiptoe ! hush , hush my dear !For less than a nothing the jea lous can hear .

No leaf doth tremble , no ripple is thereOn the river , al l’s s till , and the night’s s leepy eye

Closes up , and forge ts all its Lethean care ,

Charm’

d to death by the drone of the humm ing May-fly ;

And the Moon , whether prudish or compla isant ,H as fled to her bower , we l l knowing I want

No light in the dusk , no torch in the gloom ,

But my Isabe l’s eyes , and her l ips pulp’d with bloom .

3 .

Lift the latch ! ah gently ! ah tenderly— swee t !We are dead if that latche t gives one l i ttle cl ink !We l l done now those l ips , and a flowery seat

As far as I have been able to trace this poem ,it appeared for the first time in the

Life , Letters , and Liter ary Remains whe reit is da ted 1 8 1 8 . The s ta tement

in the Ald ine ed ition of 1 87 6 tha t it was first printed in 7 he Liter ary Pocket-boob or

Companionfor the Lover of N a ture and Ar t,for 1 8 1 8 , must de r ive from some mis

apprehension,as the re is no such book. The Pochet—hooh wa s sta rted by H unt in

1 8 1 9 ; and in a copy of the book for tha t year now in Sir Char les D ilke '

s posses sionKea ts wrote the Song ; b ut it is not printed in tha t or in e ithe r o f the four la terPocket-hooks which comp lete the se rie s . For the text of the song I fo l low the evi

dently later manuscrip t in Sir Charle s D i lke ’

s copy of E ndymion . The varia tionsshown by the Pocket—book a re ,

in stanza 1,l ine 7 ,

tr ead softly for so] ? tiptoe ; instanza 2

,l ine 6

,H ath for H as

,and line 7 , da r kness for dush ; in stanza 3,

l ine 2 ,

chinh for clink, l ine 4 , dr eam for s leep l ine 5, m ay for sha l l , and l ine 6, mor nin for

mor ning'

s . The fina l coup let is wanting in the later manuscript , with which ord

H oughton’

s version corresponds in the ma in. H e re, howeve r, previous texts read

his so} ? twin-egg s and coo ; and I am compe l led to revert to the read ing of the only

manuscrip t 1 know of that coup le t . I t must b e a later read ing ,because Keats

never damages his work ; and his, if a correct transcript from a third manus cript,


The old man may s leep , and the planets maywinkThe shut rose shall dream of our loves , and awakeFul l blown , and such warm th for the morn ing’s take ,

The stock-dove shal l hatch her soft brace and sha l l coo ,While I kiss to the melody , aching all through

EXTRACTS FROM AN OPERA.

‘

O! WERE I one of the Olympian twelve.Their godships should pass this into a law,

Tha t when a man doth set himself in toi lAfter some beauty ve i led far awayEach s tep he took should make his lady’s handMore soft , more whi te , and her fair Cheek mare fair ;And for each briar-berry he m ight eat ,A kiss should bud upon the tree Of love ,And pulp and ripen ri cher every hour,To mel t away upon the travel ler’s l ips .

0 t 0 t

DAI SY’S SONG .

The sun , wi th his great eye ,Sees not so much as I ;And the moon , all s i lver-proud ,Might as wel l be in a cloud .

And 0 the spring the spring !I lead the l ife of a king !Couch

’d in the teem ing gras s ,

I spy ea ch pre tty lass .

is poe tica l] inferior to her , wh i le soft is inapp l icable to eggs—a p l icable to

birds subst tuted. W i th l ines 5 and 6 compare , in the garden song it M aud,

But the rose was awake a l l night for your sakeThe Laureate

’

s sumptuous stanza can we l l afford the sl ight indebtedness.First g iven among the L iterary Remains in Volume I I of the Lif e, Lem : &c.

and assigned to the year 1 8 1 8.

400 POS TH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

SONG .

The s tranger l ighted from his s teed,And ere he spake a word ,

H e seiz’d my lady’s l i lly hand ,

And kiss’d i t all unheard .

The s tranger wa lk’d into the hall ,And ere he spake a word ,

H e kiss’d my lady’s cherry l ips ,

And kiss’d ’

em all unheard .

3.

The stranger wa lk’d into the bower ,But my lady firs t did go,

Aye hand in hand into the bower,Where my lord’s roses blow.

4 .

My lady’s maid had a s ilken scarf,And a golden ring had she ,

And a kiss from the stranger, as ofl' he wentAga in on his fair palfrey .

i! 1 !

Asleep 0 s leep a l ittle while , white pearl !And let me knee l , and let me pray to thee ,

And let me ca l l H eaven’s bless ing on thine

And let me breathe into the happy air,Tha t doth enfold and touch thee al l about ,Vows Of my S lavery . my giving up ,

My sudden adora tion , my great loveAmongD ante G abrie l Rosetti’s notes upon Keats I find one to the e ffect that

this song reminds one somewhat of Blake '

s The Wil l and the Way .


SHARING EVE’S APPLE .

BLUSH not so ! 0 blush not so !Or I shal l th ink you knowing ;

And if you sm ile the blushing while ,Then maidenheads are going .

There’s a blush for won’t , and a blush for shan’t ,And a blush for having done i t :

There’s a blush for thought and a blush for nought ,And a blush for jus t begun it .

3.

O sigh not so ! 0 s igh not soFor i t sounds of Eve’s sweet pippin ;

By these loosen’d l ips you have tas ted the pips

And fought in an amorous nipping .

Will you play once more at nice-cut-core ,For i t only wi l l last our youth out ,

And we ha ve the prime of the kiss ing time ,We have not one sweet tooth out .

5.

There’s a S igh for yes , and a s igh for no ,

And a s igh for I can’t bear i t0 what can be done , shal l we s tay or run ?0 cut the sweet apple and share i t !

This song ,belong ing to the year 1 8 1 8 , has not , I be lieve ,

been published t il l now.

I t seems to me ne ither more nor le ss worthy o f Kea ts’s reputa t ion than the D a isy'sSong in the forego ing Extra cts from an Ope ra ; but , notwithstanding the bri ll iantqua l itie s of some of the s tanzas

,I shou ld have hesita ted to b e instrum enta l in add

ing it to the poet’

s published works, had it not been handed about in manuscr ip tand more than once copied .


SONG .‘

HAD a dove and the swee t dove died ;And I have thought it died of grieving

0, what could i t grieve for ? I ts feet were tied ,With a s i lken thread of my own band

’s weaving ;

Swee t l i ttle red feet why should you dieWhy should you leave me , swee t bird why?

You liv’

d a lone in the fores t- tree ,Why , pre tty thing ! would you not l ive wi th me ?

I kiss’d you oft and gave you whi te peas ;Why not l ive swee tly , as in the green trees ?

SONNET !

TO A LADY SEEN FOR A FEW MOMENTS AT VAUXHALL .

IME’S sea hath been five years at its slow ebb .

Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand.S ince I was tangled in thy beauty’s web.

And snared by the ungloving of thine hand .

And yet I never look on m idnight sky,

But I behold thine eyes’we l l memory’

d l ight ;I cannot look upon the rose’s dye ,

But to thy cheek my soul doth take its fl ight .I cannot look on any budding flower,But my fond ear , in fancy at thy lips

And harkening for a love- sound , doth devourI ts swee ts in the wrong sense : Thou dos t eclipse

Every del ight with swee t remembering ,

And gr ief unto my darl ing joys dost bring .

Th is song wa s given in the Lif e, Letter s &c.,among the Literary Rema ins in

Vo lume I I , under the da te 1 8 1 8‘

1' Published in H ood

'

s M ag a sw e fo r Apr i l 1 844 ,headed Sonne t by the la te John

Keats."and g iven by Lord H oughton in 1 84 8 among the Literary Remains , nu

dated , and headed “ To wi th a foot-note to the e ffect of the ing he readopted . The two vers ions mus t b e from d ifferent manuscripts, tha t used byLordH oughton probably the later. I n the Magazine l ine 1 is

Life'

s sea ha th been five t imes a t its s low ebb ,

and line 7 reads I never g a z e fo r I cannot look ; in l ine 9 never stands in place of

cannot ; and the fina l coup le t isOthe r de l igh ts wi th thy rem ember ingAnd sorrow to my da rl ing joys doth bring.


SONNET .

ON VI S I TI NG TH E TOMB OF BURNS .

TH E town , the churchyard , and the sett ing sun ,

The clouds , the trees , the rounded hills a ll seem ,

Though beaut iful , cold s trange as in a dream ,

I dreamed long ago , now new begun .

The short-liv’d , pa ly Summer is but wonFrom Winter’s ague. for one hour’s gleam ;Though sapphire-warm , the ir stars do never beam

All is cold Beauty ; pa in is never doneFor who has m ind to rel ish , M inos-wise ,The Rea l of Beauty , free from that dead hueS ickly imaginat ion and s ick pride

Cans t wan upon i t Burns ! with honour dueI oft have honour’d thee . Great Shadow, hide

Thy face ; I sin aga ins t thy na t ive skies .

This sonne t,with which the poems of the Scotch tour with Brown begins , was

not a very “

prospe rous Opening .

”I t seem s to have been wri tten on the 2nd

Of Ju ly 1 8 1 8 , and was firs t given by Lord H oughton in the Life, Letters &c. in1 848 , a s pa rt of a le tte r to Tom Kea ts

,whe re in the poet suffic ient ly exp lains the

compa ra t ive poverty of the product ion,thus

You wi l l see by this sonne t tha t I am a t D umfries . We have d ined in ScotianBurns

’

s tomb is in the church-yard corner,not ve ry much to my taste , though on a

sca le la rge enou h to Show they wanted to honour him . M rs . Burns l ives in thisp lace ; most l ikely we sha l l see he r to-morrow. This sonne t I have written in a

strange mood,ha lf-as leep. I know not how it is , the c louds

,the sky, the houses ,

a l l seem ant i-G rec ian and anti-Charlemagnish. I wi l l endeavour to get rid of myprejud ices and te l l you fairly about the S cotch.

”

I t is we l l to say a t once tha t the p rec ise dates ass igned to this series of poems arenot abso lute ly ce rta in ; for Keats himse lf was notorious ly inexact about da tes , and ,a ccord ing to his own confess ion

,never knew.

”Thus the next ub lished le tte r

,

conta ining the Meg Me rrilies poem , is da ted“ Auchte rcaim

, 3rd u ly ;”

and in it

we read“ ye ste rday wa s pas sed in Kirkcudbrigh t , without any fresh date ,

thoughp robably this sta tement be longs to the day on which Keats was a t N ewton S tewa rt .I have be fore me an unpublished le tter to his sister

,where in

,beginning a t

D umfrie s on the 2md, he says he sha l l b e a t Kirkcudbrigh t the next day ; speaks of

vis iting Burns '

s tomb “ yeste rday ; and says he ha s so many interrupt ions he can

not fill a le tte r in one day. Unfortuna te ly these interrupt ions some t ime s occurred

ir

l

i

1

the m idd le of a paragraph , and one cannot a lway b e sure at what po int the date0 anges.

POSTH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS . 4o5

MEG MERRI LI ES .

LD MEG she was a G ipsy,And liv’d upon the Moors

H er bed i t was the brown hea th turf,And her house was out of doors .

H er apples were swart blackberries ,H er currants pods O’ broom ;

H er wine was dew of the wi l d ,white rose ,

H er book a churchyard tomb .

3 .

H er Brothers were the craggy hills ,H er S isters larchen trees

Alone wi th her grea t fam i lyShe liv

’d as she did please .

Keats and his companion seem to have s tarted from D umfries aga in on the 2md

of July, “through Ga l loway—a ll very p leasant and pretty with no fatigue when one

is used to it ,”a s he writes to his s is te r , add ing We are in the m idst of Meg M er

r i lle s’ country ofwhom I suppose you have heard ,

”

and g iving he r forthwith a copyof the poem . Lord H oughton says of this stage

The pedestrians passed by So lway Fr ith through that de lightfu l part of Kirkcudb rightshire , the scene of Guy Mannering .

’

Keats had never read the nove l,

b ut was much struck with the character of M eg Merrilies as de linea ted to him byBrown. H e seemed a t once to rea l ise the crea tion of the nove l ist

,and

,sudden ly

stopp ing in the pa thway, a t a po int where a profus ion of honeysuckles,wi ld rose

,

and fox-

g love , m ingled with the bramble and broom that fi l led up the spacesbe tween the sha ttered rocks , he cried out, W ithout a shadow of doubt on tha t spothas old Meg Merrilies often boi led he r kett le .

’

On the grd of July he writes to Tom from Auchtercaj rn (m ean ing , I presume,

Auchenca irn ,some six m i les east of Kirkcudbright) We are now in M eg

M e rrilie s'

country, and have,this morning , passed through some parts exac t ly

suited to her. Kirkcudbright County is very beau tiful , very wi ld , wi th craggy h i lls ,somewha t in the We stmore land fashion. We have com e down from D um fr ies tothe sea-coas t part of it The fo l lowing song you wi ll have from D i lke , b ut perhapsyou wou ld l ike it he re .

I should judge that the scene given by Brown to Lord H oughton be longedrather to the morn ing of the 3rd than to the evening of the 2nd ; and that Keats tookout his current le tter to his siste r a t Auchenca irn on paus ing there to breakfa st , andwrote the poem into it when he began a fre sh le tter to Tom with it . Thus , bes idesa rough draft , there wou ld b e three fa ir cop ies of the poem , one for Tom , one for

Fanny, and one for M r. D i lke . The only copy I have seen is tha t for his s ister,from which I have revised the text. I t is written in stanzas of four l ines , not


4 .

No breakfas t had she many a morn,

N0 dinner many a noon ,

And’s tead of supper she would stareFull hard agains t the Moon .

5.

But every morn of woodbine freshShe made her garlanding ,

And every night the dark g len YewShe wove , and she would s ing .

And wi th her fingers old and brownShe pla ited Mats o

’ Rushes ,And gave them to the CottagersShe met among the Bushes .

7 .

Old Meg was brave as Margare t QueenAnd ta l l as Amazon

An old red blanket cloak she wore ;A chip hat had She on .

God res t her aged bones somewhereShe died ful l long agone

e ight a s hitherto g iven ,—~ the fina l s tanza having thus two extra l ines instead of

be ing unfinished as it appea rs in previous ed i tions . I n this manuscr ipt ve ry fewvaria tions of consequence occur. S tanza 4 shows a cance l le d reading , dayfor mornin l ine 1 ; and s tanza 6 affords a rejected va riant of the first l ine

And Somet imes with he r fingersThe head-gear of stanza 7 is c learly a chip hat , and not a shipohat as in the current

texts : this confirms a suggestion of the la te D ante Gabrie l Rosset ti,who wrote to

me that he cons ide red chip m ade be tter sense (as it obvious ly doe s ) , and tha t hebe l ieved it s tood so in H ood

’

s M ag az ine , whe re the poem firs t appea red ,- a be l ief

which reference to the magazine for 1 844 shows to b e correc t. Rosse tt i thought ita [g

uy to tack the poem on to the nove l , and c ited H ood'

s M ag a zine in support

of t e t it le Old M eg ,which answers much be tte r. This is one o f the very few

po ints on which I find myse lfin disagreementwith Ros se tti. I t is true tha t the poem

is headed Old M eg in the maga zine ,and has no t itle a t a ll in the le tter in which

Lord H oughton gave it in the Life , Letter s &c or in tha t to Fanny Kea ts ; but Ithink the extracts given above so d istinctly connect it with the nove l as to renderM eg M er rilies the most proper t it le .


H e tookAn inks tandI n his handAnd a Pen

Big as ten

I n the other,And awayI n a PotherH e ran

To the mountainsAnd fountainsAnd ghostes

And PostesAnd wi tchesAnd ditchesAnd wroteI n his coatWhen the wea therWas cool ,Fear of gout ,And wi thoutWhen the weatherWas warm

Och the charmWhen we choose

To fol low one’s nose

To the north ,To the north ,

To follow one’s nose

To the north !

There was a naughty boyAnd a naughty boy was

H e kept l i ttle fishesI n washing tubs threeI n spiteOf the m ightOf the Ma idNor afra id

(3) Th is is a genuine autobiographic rem iniscence of the time when the youngKea tses l ived with the ir grandmother after the death of the ir pa rents.

J OS TI I UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS . 409

Of his Granny-goodH e Often wouldH urly burlyGet up earlyAnd go

By book or crookTo the brookAnd br ing homeMiller’s thumb ,T i ttlebatNot over fat ,Minnows small

As the stallOf a glove ,Not aboveThe sizeOf a niceLittle Baby’sLittle fingers0 he made’Twas his trade

Of Fish a pretty Ke ttleA KettleA Kettle

Of Fish a pretty KettleA Ke ttle !

4 .

There was a naughty Boy,And a naughty Boy was

H e ran away to ScotlandThe people for to see

Then he foundTha t the groundWas as hard ,That a yardWas as long ,

That a songWas as merry ,

(4) There is an under-current of d issatisfaction with things Ca ledonian I n thisfourth stanza , and indeed I do not think Kea ts ever got entire ly rid of this duringthe whole of the tour , a lbe it he enjoyed many trans ient visitations of true enthusiasminsp ired both by fine scenery and by associations.

4 1 0 POS TH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

Tha t a cherryWas as red

That leadWas as we ighty,Tha t fourscoreWas as e ighty,That a doorWas as woodenAs in England - s

SO he stood in his shoesAnd he wonder’d ,

H e wonder’d ,

H e s tood in his shoesAnd he wonder’d.

SONNET.

To AI LSA ROCK.

"l

BARKEN , thou craggyOceanpyram id !Give answer from thy voi ce , the sea- fowls’ screams !When were thy shoulders Inantled in huge streams ?

When, from the sun , was thy broad forehead hid ?H ow long is’t S ince the m ighty power bidThee heave to a iry s leep from fathom dreams ?S leep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams ,

Or when grey clouds are thy cold coverl id .

Thou answer’st not ; for thou art dead as leep ;

From Kirkcudbrigh t the tourists went to NeWtoriStewart and thence throughWigtonshire to Port Pa tr ick, vis iting G len luce and S tranraer on the way. FromPort Patrick they crossed in the ma i l packe t to I re land

, reaching D onaghadee on

the sth of Ju ly. They wa lked from D on hadee to Be lfast and back, having abandoned the idea of see ing the G iant's tiseway on account o f the e xpense ,crossed aga in so as to s leep a t Port Patrick on the 8th

,and then resumed the ir

Scotch wa lk . Lord H ough ton saysRe turn ing from I re land , the trave l lers roceeded northwards by the coas t

,

Ai lsa Rock constantly in the ir view. That ne Object firs t appeared to them,in

the fu l l sunl ight , l ike a transparent torto ise as le ep upon the ca lm water, then ,as

they advanced,d isp laying its lofty shoulde rs , and ,

a s they s ti l l went on,los ing its

d ist inc tness in the mounta ins o f Arran and the extent Of Cant ire tha t rose behind .

H is LOd hip re cords tha t the sonne t to Ai lsa Rock was writ ten in the inn at

G irvan ; and , as Kea ts was a t Maybo le on the 1 1 th,and G irvan is more than three

quarte rs of the way from Port Pa trick to Maybo le , the sonne t Shou ld be da ted theroth or 1 1 th of July 1 8 1 8. I t appeared in Le igh H unt

'

s Liter ary Pocket-hooh for

1 8 1 9 ,from which I give the text, and the t itle -with the preposition to, no t on as

in other editions.

4 1 2 POSTH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

LINESWR I TTEN I N TH E H I GH LAND S AFTER A VI SI T To BURNS

’S COUNTRY.

‘

TH ERE is a charm in foo ting s low across a s i lent plain,

Where patriot ba ttle has been fought , where glory had the ga in ;There is a pleasure on the heath where D ru ids old have been ,Where mantles grey have rustled by and swept the nettles green ;

There is a joy in every spot made known by times of old ,

New to the fee t , a lthough each tale a hundred t imes be told ;There is a deeper joy than all , more solemn in the heart ,More parching to the tongue than all , of more divine a smart ,When weary s teps forget themse lves upon a pleasant turf,Upon hot sand , or flinty road , or sea-shore iron s curf,Towa rd the cas tle or the cot , where long ago was bornOne who was great through mortal days , and died of fame unshorn .

Light hea ther-bells may tremble then , but they are far away ;Wood - lark may s ing from sandy fern ,— the Sun may hear his lay ;

H is name,of course , is known a l l about : his grea t re utation among the p lodding

peop le is ‘

tha t he wrote a good many sensible things . One of the leasantest waysof annu l lmg se lf is approaching such a shrine as the Cottage of urns : we neednot think of his m ise ry— tha t is a l l gone , b ad luck to it l I sha l l look 1 1 on ithe reafter wi th unm ixed p leasure ,

as I do on my S tra tford-ou-Avon daywith iley.

I sha l l fi l l this shee t for you in the Ba rd ie'

s country, go ing no further than this, till

I ge t to the town ofAyr, which wi l l be a nine m i le s wa lk to tea.

Probably the proceed ings re la ted to Tom Kea ts took p lace on the 1 2th : thetrave l lers must have pas sed no great way from Burns

'

s cottage on the road to Ayr,see ing tha t the cottage is some two m i les south of the town ; but they may havewished to sta rt with renewed vigour after a nigh t’s re st on th is quas i-re l ig ious partof the ir p i lgrimage. To Reyno lds a lso Kea ts spoke d ispa rag ing ly of the sonnet , astoo b ad for transcription ; and to Ba i ley he wrote that it was so wre tched thathe des troyed it. Neverthe less it fortuna te ly survived ; and I heart i ly concur in the

op inion of the late D ante Gabrie l Rosse tti , who obse rves in a le tter to me tha t thissonne t

,

“ for a ll Kea ts says o fit himse lf,is a fine thing .

"Lord H oughton comments

thus The loc a l colour is strong in it : it m ight have be en writtenwhere W i l liebrewed a peek o

’

maut,

’

and its genia l ity would have de l ighted the object of itsadm ira t ion.

"

i”Afte r leavingAyr Kea ts and Brown appear to have been detained by rain a t some

p lace twe lve m i le s a long the road,when Kea ts took the opportunity of go ing on

with his letter to Reyno lds begun a t Maybo le . They we re en route for G lasgow(casua l ly m entioned in a le tte r to Ba i ley begun at I nvera ry on the 1 8th of Ju ly) ,which they took on the ir way from Ayr to Loch Lomond and I nverary. The poem

g iven above is mentioned to Ba i ley a s having been wr itten within a few days of thesonne t in Burns

'

s cot tage , so tha t , a lthough I t is headed a s above in the manuscript

written a t the end of Sir Charle s D i lke '

s Copy of E ndymion ,it se ems more proba

b le that the te rm H zlg/z lana’r was us ed in a lax popular sense than that the poem

was composed a fte r the vis it to S ta ffs . I ndeed in the le tter to Ba i ley he speaks ofthe who le tour as in the H ighlands . Keats expe cted to b e by Loch Lomond aboutthe 1 5th of July

,and may have wr itten this poem on high g round anywhere about

the Loch , with the scenery of which he was ve ry much impressed. They did not

POSTH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 4 1 3

Runnels may kiss the grass on she lves and shallows clear ,But the ir low voices are not heard , though come on trave ls drear ;Blood-red the Sun may set behind black mounta in peaks ;B lue tides may s lui ce and drench the ir time in caves and weedycreeks ;Eagles may seem to s leep wing-wide upon the air ;Ring-doves may fly convuls’d across to some high-cedar’d la ir ;But the forgotten eye is s till fas t l idded to the ground ,As Pa lmer’s , tha t wi th weariness , mid-desert shrine hath found .

At such a time the soul’s a child , in childhood is the bra in ;Forgotten is the worldly heart— a lone , i t beats in va in .

Aye , if a madman could have leave to pass a hea l thful dayTo tell his forehead’s swoon and fa int when firs t began decay ,H e m ight make tremble many a one whose spiri t had gone forthTo find a Bard’s low crad le-

place about the s i lent North !S canty the hour and few the s teps beyond the bourn of care ,

Beyond the sweet and bitter world , - beyond it unaware !Scanty the hour and few the s teps , because a longer s tayWould bar re turn , and make a man forge t his mortal way0 horrible to lose the s ight of wel l remember’d face ,Of Brother’s eyes , of S ister’s brow cons tant to every place ;Filling the air , as on we move , with portra iture intense ;More warm than those heroi c tints that pa in a pa inter’s sense ,

When shapes of old come striding by , and visages of old ,

Locks shining black , ha ir scanty grey , and pass ions manifold .

No , no, that horror cannot be , for at the cable’s lengthMan fee ls the gentle anchor pul l and gladdens in its strength :One hour , half-idiot , he s tands by mossy waterfall ,But in the very ne x t he reads his soul’s memoria lH e reads i t on the mounta in’

s he ight , where chance he may sit downUpon rough marble diadem tha t hil l’s e ternal crown .

Yet be his anchor e’er so fast , room is there for a prayerThat man may never lose his m ind on mountains black and bare ;Tha t he may stray league after league some grea t birth-place to findAnd keep his vis ion clear from speck , his inward s ight unblind .

ascend Ben Lomond as intended ,be ing de terred by expense and need of rest. I

have adop ted in the m a in the text of the manuscript, which va ries a good dea l inm inor de ta i l from the poem as printed by Lord H oughton from the copy cross

scr ibed "a s Kea ts says , on his letter to Ba i ley , in which he Speaks of the l ine s as

cous in-german to the subje ct of the sonne t in Burns '

s cottage . The princ ipa l var ia tions o f Lord H oughton '

s ed it ion a re izad for [ ms in l ine 2,nett led for nettles in

l ine 4 ,in for by in l ine 5, surf for sour/ in l ine 1 0 (a read ing in which the support of

the manuscript may poss ibly b e c laimed as scuff is a ltered to surf: though in myop inion not by Keats ) , and m for on in line 46. I n l ine 23 the manuscript readswor ld

'

s for soul’

s ; but this must , I think , b e an error o f transcription ,induced by

the p resence of the word wor ldly in the next l ine : in that case I fol low LordH oughton’

s read ing ,sou l

’

s.

4 1 4 POS TH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS

THE GADFLY.

ALL gentle folks who owe a grudge

To any l iving thingOpen your ears and s tay your t [r] udgeWhils t I in dudgeon s ing .

The Gadfiy he hath stung me sore

0 may he ne’er s ting you !

But we have many a horr id boreH e may s ting black and blue .

3.

H as any here an old grey Mare

Wi th three legs all her s tore ,0 put i t to her Buttocks bareAnd stra ight she’l l run on four.

H as any here a Lawyer suitOf 1 7 43,

Take Lawyer’s nose and put i t to’tAnd you the end wi ll see .

On the 1 7 th of July 1 8 1 8 the trave l le rs we re approach ing I nva and Kea tsbegan a letter to his brothe r Tom a t Cairn-some thing ,

” having wa lke fifteen m i lesto breakfas t through two tremendous G lens . One o f the se was G lencroe and the

other pe rhaps a sma l le rglen a t the southern ext rem i ty of G lenfyne : G lencroe is

mentioned late r on in the e tter and is a lso identifiable by a p la ce ca l led Res t and

b e thankfu l ” which the poet names ; and a t the end of the sma l le r g len is Ca irndownot far from the northe rn extrem ity o f Loch Pyne , a ba the in which was the occa

s ion of the ba llad g iven above a ba the to which the gadflies we re the only d rawback. This ba llad , now I be lieve fi rs t published ,

seems to me one of the brigh testa nd most humorous of the p ieces which Keats class ified as dogg ere l and I presumeit may be ass igned to the 1 7 th of J uly 1 8 1 8.

(4 ) Line 2 is of cours e to b e read Of seventeen forty three, not Of seventeenhundred and forty three .

"

POSTH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE

H as any here a daughter fairToo fond of reading novels ,

Too apt to fal l in love wi th careAnd charm ing M ister Love ls ,

0 put a Gadfly to tha t thingShe keeps so white and pert

I mean the finge r for the ring ,

And i t wil l breed a wort .

H as any here a pious spouse

Who seven times a dayScolds as King D avid pray’d , to chouseAnd have her holy way

I 3.

0 let a Gadfly’s l i tt le s ting

Persuade he r sacred tongueThat noises are a common thing,But tha t her be ll has ru

’

ng .

And as this is the summum bo

num of all conquering ,

I leave withouten wordes moThe Gadfly

’s l i ttle s ting .

( t o) The reference is probabl to the hero of Scott’

s nove l TIre Antiquary , prope rly the H onourable Wil l iam e ra ldin, he ir to the Ear l of G lena l lan, but knownthroughou t the book a s M r. Love l.( 1 2) Perhaps the reference is to Psa lm cix, verse 1 64 , Seven times a day do I

pra ise thee because of thy righteous judgments ; but there is certainly no intention

laLI disrespect to David , the wordMouse be ing the exclus ive property of the pious

$ 00

POSTH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 4 1 7

SONNET .

ON HEARI NG THE BAG—P I PE AND SEEI NG “ TH E STRANGER”PLAYED

AT I NVERARY .

F late two dainties were before me plac’dSwee t , holy , pure , sacred and innocent ,From the ninth sphere to me benignly sent

That Gods m ight know my own particular tasteFirst the soft Bag-

pipe mourn’d with zealous haste ,

The S tranger next with head on bosom bentSigh

’d ; rueful aga in the pi teous Bag-

pipe went ,Aga in the S tranger sighings fresh did was te .

0 Bag-

pipe thou didst stea l my heart away0 S tranger thou my nerves fromP ipe dids t charm

O Bag-

pipe thou didst t e -assert thy swayAga in thou S tranger gav’s t me fresh a larm

Alas ! I could not choose . Ah ! my poor heartMum chance art thou wi th both ob lig’d to part .

I t would seem to have been sti l l the 1 7 th of July when Keats and Brown cameround the end of Loch Fyne to I nverary, as the poe t te l ls his brother Tom in con

tinuing the le tter begun at Ca irndow ; for he makes a fresh sta rtwith last evening ,

"

and lower down another fresh start dated July 2otb in which he speaks of the lapseof two days . The letter to Ba i ley a lready mentioned is a lso dated I nverary, Ju ly1 8 ; and tha t was doubtless the day on which he recounted to Tom the a rriva l a tI nvera ry. Keats had been excruc iated by a solo on the b ag

-

p ipe on the way, I

thought ," he says , the bru te wou ld never have done ye t was I doomed to hearanothe r. On entering I nverary we saw a Play Bi l l Brown was knock

'

d up from

new shoes - so I went to the Barn a lone whe re I saw the S tranger accompanied bya Bag

-

p ipe . There theywent on about ‘ interesting creaters and human na te r —t i llthe curta in fe l l and then cam e the Bag

-

p ipe . When M rs . H a l ler fa inted down wentthe curta in and out came the Bag

-

pipe—a t the heartrend ing, shoemending recon

c i l iat ion the Piper blew ama in. I never read or saw this p lay before ; not the Bagp ipe nor the wretched layers themse lves we re l itt le in comparison with it thankheaven it has been scoffed a t late ly a lmost to a fa shion. The sonnet g iven abovefollows this passage without a break ; and I presume we may safe ly assign it to the1 8th o f Ju ly 1 8 1 8 . I t has a lready been published , in n a At/zenreum of the 7 th of

June 1 87 3. W ithout be ing in any sense a good sonnet,it is highly interesting as

the record of a m ood,and of Kea ts

'

s a ttitude towards the wre tched but once

renowned work of August von Kotzebue ,trans la ted into Engl ish and performed a t

D rury Lane a s long ago as 1 7 9 8. The part of M rs. H a l ler has been graced by noless a p layer than M rs . S iddons . The manuscript of the sonne t shows a cance l ledreading in l ine 8, sty/zed z

’

n discontent, rejected of course as upsetting the metre .

4 1 8 POSTH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

STAFFA.

OT Aladdin magianEver such a work began ;Not the wi zard of the D ee

Ever such a dream could see ;Not St . John , in Patmos’ Is le ,I n the pass ion of his toi l ,When he saw the churches seven,Golden-aisl

’d , buil t up in heaven,

Gaz’d at such a rugged wonder,

As I s tood its roofing under .

Lo I saw one s leeping there ,On the marble cold and bare ;While the surges wash

’d his feet ,

And his garments white did bea tD rench’d about the sombre rocks ;On his neck his well-grown locks ,Lifted dry above the ma in ,

Were upon the curl aga in .

What is this ? and what art thou ?Whisper

’d I , and touch’d his brow ;Wha t art thou ? and wha t is this ?

Whisper’d I , and s trove to kiss

After a de tention of a few hours a t I nve rary owing to Brown'

s suffering fromsore fee t

,the trave l lers started a

ga in on the 1 9 th of January

,wa lked a long “

20

m i le s by the s ide of Loch Awe ' —southward , I suppose ,for they next paused

“ between Loch Cra ignish and the sea just Oppos i te Long I s land,

"whe re Keats

g ives a very m inute account to Tom of the loca le . They then pushed on to

Oban,1 5 m i les in a soaking ra in —due north aga in. At Oban Kea ts finished

the unpublished le tter to Tom conta ining Tba Gadfly and the S lr an er sonnet ,and pos ted it , announcing tha t the trave l le rs had g iven up the idea 0 Mul l andS taffa on account of the expense . This was probably on the z and of July. On thea3rd he begins a fresh le tter (Life , Letter s &c. ) s ta ting tha t just a fte r he had postedthe o ther the gu ide to M ul l cam e in and made a ba rga in with them . This la t terle tte r is da ted the z 3rd of July

,D unancul len in the L

ag: Dimancu l len is the

nam e g iven in the same connexion in the New Yo rk or ld , where some Kea tsdocuments appeared ; but probably the p la ce ind ica ted is D errynacu len , whichis a t a situa t ion on the wa lk through the southe rn part o f the I s le of Mul l correspond ing with Kea ts

’

s na rra tive . This narrative seem s to show tha t on the

a3rd of July they crossed from Oban to Kerrera by one fe rr and from Kerre rato Mu l l by anothe r

,and wa lked a cross the south o f the I sland to the weste rn

extrem ity to cross to I ona by boa t. By the 26th ,Kea ts re sumed his lette r to Tom

a t Oban ,and narra ted tha t the thirty-seven m i les ofwa lking had been ve ry m isera

b le , and tha t he and Brown had taken a boa t a t a barga in to carry them from I ona

to S taffa ,and land them fina l ly a t the head o f Loch Nakea l

,whence they could

return to Oban by a be tte r route . H e vivid ly de sc rib e s S ta ffa ,inc lud ing Finga l 's

Cave , breaks into verse with the l ine s given above , and resumes prose with I am


SONNET.

0

WR I TTEN UPON TH E TOP OF BEN NEV I S .

EAD sine a lesson , Muse , and speak i t loudUpon the top of Nevis , blind in mis t !I look into the chasms , and a shroud

Vapourous doth hide them , jus t so much IMankind do know of hel l ; I look o’erhead,And there is sullen m is t , even so much

Mankind can tel l of heaven ; m is t is spreadBefore the earth , beneath me ,

— even such ,Even so vague is man’

s s ight of himself !H ere are the craggy stones benea th my feet ,

Thus much I know that , a poor wi tless e lf,I tread on them , that all my eye doth meetI s m ist and crag , not only on this he ight ,But in the world of thought and mental m ight

At Oban,apparently on the 26th of

J‘i

j

il

y,the dec is ion was taken to rest a day

or two be fore pushing on to Fort iliam and I nve rne ss . I find no preciserecord of the date of the ascent of Ben Nevis ; b ut it was p robably about the rs t of

August 1 8 1 8 Lord H oughton says in the Life , Letter s &c whe re this sonne t firstappeared , From Fort W i l l iam Kea ts mounted Ben News When on the summit a c loud enve loped him

,and s itting on the s tones

,a s it s lowly wafted away,

showinga tremendous prec ip ice into the va l ley be low, he wrote these l ines.

The a te D ante Gabrie l Rosse tti wrote to m e o f this sonne t as pe rhaps the

most thoughtful of Kea ts,and greatly supe rior in e xecut ion to the d ra ft on A i lsa

Crag . I t was certa inly by no means an unworthy finish to the tour, though Imust confe ss to find ing a l ittle want o f spontane ity no t to b e wonde red a t whenwe conside r tha t Kea ts , though writing so brave ly to his friends , had unde rtaken a

task fa r beyond his phys ica l s treng th,and probably one which la id the foundat ions

of his morta l i l lness . H e speaks to Tom l igh tly enough of a s l igh t sore throa t ;but in a le tter which Brown wrote from I nve rness on the 7 th of Augus t, he saysMr. Kea ts wi l l leave me and I am ful l of sorrow about it ; a vio lent co ld and

an u lce ra ted throa t make it a m a tte r of prudence tha t he shou ld go to London inthe Packe t : he ha s been unwe l l for some time

, and the Phys ician he re is of op inionhe wi l l not recover ifhe journeys on foot thro’

a ll wea the rs a nd under so many privations.

"So Brown went on to wa lk another 1 200 m i les a lone ,

and Kea ts havingaccompl ished 600 and odd ,

went on board the smack from Cromarty,

"a s he says

in a hithe rto unpublished le tter to his s ister da ted H ampstead , August 1 8th"

and after a nine days passage landed a t London Bridge”

on the 1 7 th ofAugust 1 8 1 8.

POS TH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 4 2 I

A PROPH ECY : TO GEORGE KEATS I N AMERICA.

TI S the Wi tching hour of night ,Orbed is the moon and bright ,And the stars they gl isten , gl is ten,

Seeming with bright eyes to l istenFor what l is ten they ?

For a song and for a charm ,

See they gl isten in a larm ,

And the moon is wa x ing warmTo hear wha t I shal l say.

Moon ! keep wide thy golden ears

H earken , stars and hearken , spheres !H earken , thou e ternal sky !I s ing an infant’s lullaby ,

A pre tty lullaby .

Listen , l isten , l isten , lis ten,

G l isten , gl isten , gl is ten , glisten ,

And hear my lullaby !Though the rushes tha t will makeI ts cradle s t il l are in the lakeThough the l inen that will beI ts swathe ,

is on the cotton treeThough the woollen that wi ll keepI t warm , is on the s i lly sheepListen , s tarl ight , l isten , l isten ,

G l is ten , gl isten , gl isten , gl isten ,

And hear my lul labyChild , I see thee ! Child , I ’ve found theeMids t of the quiet all around thee !Child , I see thee ! Chi ld , I spy theeAnd thy mother sweet is nigh thee !Child , I know thee ! Child no more ,But a Poet evermore !

See , s ee , the lyre , the lyre ,I n a flame of fire ,

The se l ines occur in a le tter to George Kea ts dated the 29 th of October 1 8 1 8 ,first g iven by Lord H oughton in the Life , Letter s &c and appear to be long to

tha t d a te . They fo llow imm ed ia te ly upon this passageI f I had a praye r to make for any grea t good ,

next to Tom ’

s recovery,it shou ld

b e tha t one o f your chi ldren should b e the first American poet . I have a g rea t

r

iilgld to make a prophecy ; and they say that prophec ies work out the ir own

1 ment."


Upon the l i ttle cradle’s topFlaring , flaring , flaring ,

Pas t the eyes ight’s bearing .

Awake i t from its s leep ,

And see if i t can keepI ts eyes upon the blaze

Amaze , amazeI t s tares , i t s tares , i t s tares ,I t dares wha t no one dares !I t l ifts its l i ttle hand into the flameUnharm

’d , and on the s trings

Paddles a li ttle tune , and s ings ,With dumb endeavour swee tlyBard art thou comple te ly !

Little childO

’th

’wes tern wild ,

Bard art thou comple te ly !Swee tly wi th dumb endeavour,A Poe t now or never ,

Li ttle child0’

th’ wes tern wi ld ,A Poet now or never !

TRANSLATION FROM A SONNET OF RONSARD .

‘

ATURE wi thheld Cassandra in the skies ,For more adornment , a full thousand years ;

She took the ir cream of Beauty’s fa i res t dyes ,And shap

’d and t inted her above all Peers

Meanwhile Love kept her dearly with his wings ,And underneath the ir shadow fill

’d her eyes

(42- 3) This coup let re ca l ls curious ly one in the D a isy’s Song in E x tr actsfroman Oper a , p age 39 8 of this vo lum e .

1"I p re sum e this trans lat ion was made about Septembe r 1 8 1 8. I t was firs t g ivenby Lo rd H ough ton in the Life , Letter s &c . ( 1 848) in a le tter to Reyno lds,unda ted ,

b ut be longing to tha t t ime . The sonne t fo llows the words H e re is a free trans la

t ion of a Sonnet of Ronsa rd ,which I think wi l l p lea se you. I have the loan of his

works - they have g rea t beaut ies .

"Lord H oughton supp l ied the coup let thus

So tha t her image in my sou l upg rew,

The only thing adorab le and true .

I n the copy of Shake speare ’

s Poe tica l Works given to Kea ts by Reynolds , and con

ta ining the manuscript of Kea ts ’

s la s t sonne t , the re is a lso a manuscript of the sethre e qua tra ins

,wantin l ike the ve rs ion adopted by Lord H oughton ,

the las t twol ines. The readings 0 this manuscript are genera lly inferior to those of the other


And made him read in many a learned book ,And into many a l ively legend look ;Thereby in goodly themes so tra ining him ,

That a ll his brut ishness he qui te forsook ,When, mee t ing Artegal l and Ta lus grim ,

The one he struck s tone-blind , the other’s eyes wox dim.

THE EVE OF SAINT MARK .

‘

A FRAGMENT .

PON a Sabbath-day i t fe ll ;Twice holy was the Sabbath-bel l ,That ca ll’d the folk to evening prayer ;

The c ity s treets were c lean and fa i rFrom wholesome drench of Apri l ra ins ;And , on the wes tern window panesThe chilly sunse t fa intly toldOf unmatur

’d green val lies cold ,

Of the green thorny bloomless hedge ,Of rivers new with spring- tide sedge ,

stanza ,inserted a t the c lose of Canto I I Book V. H is sympa thies were very much

on the s ide o f the revo lut ionary Gyant,who unde rtook for to repa ir the rea lms

and nations run awry,

‘

and to suppress‘tyrants tha t make men subject to the ir

law,

’

and lord ings curbe that commons over-aw,

’

whi le he grudged the legi timate

victory, as he rejected the conserva t ive phi losophy, of the righteous Artega ll and

his comrade,the fie rce defender of privile e and orde r. And be ex ressed

,in this

ex post facto prophecy, his convict ion 0 the u ltimate triumph 0 freedom and

equa l ity by the powe r of transm itted knowledge .

I have no data whereby to fix the pe riod of this commentar

yo f Keats on the

pol i tica l a ttitude of Spenser ; but I should judge it to be long to t e end of 1 8 1 8 or

thereabouts . The copy of Spense r in which the s tanza was written is not nowforthcom ing : it passed into the hands of M iss Brawne , and was lost

,wi th other

books , many years a fte r Keats’

s dea th.

I t shou ld be borne in m ind tha t the eve of S t . Mark is the a4 th of April .The E ve of S t. M ar k wa s probably begun in the winte r o f 1 8 1 8—1 9 ; fo r in a

le tter to George Kea ts and his wife the poe t says under da te Februa ry I 4 , I n mynext packet I sha l l send you if I shou ld have finished it , a l itt le thing ,

ca l ledthe Eve of S t. Ma rk .

”

Lord H oughton first published the poem among the

Literary Rema ins in 1 848 , with the da te 1 8 1 9 . The la te D ante Gabrie l Rosse tti ,writ ing to send me some informa tion about the superstition connected with the Eveof S t. Ma rk

, sa ys , Kea ts’

s unfinished poem on tha t subje ct is pe rhaps , with LaB el le D ame sans M er ci, the chas test and choicest examp le of his maturing manne r,

and shows a stonishing ly rea l med iaeva l ism for one not bred as an a rtist . I copy ane xtrac t [from T/ze Unseen Wor ld (Mas te rs page 7 2] which I have no doub tembod ies the supe rst ition in accordance with which Kea ts meant to deve lope hispoem . I t is much akin to the be lie f conne cted with the Eve o f S t. Agnes .

POSTH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 4 25

Of primroses by shelter’d ri lls ,And da is ies on the aguish hills .

Twice holy was the Sabbath-bellThe s i lent s treets were crowded wel lWith sta id and pious companies ,Warm from the ir fire -s ide orat

’ries ;

And moving , with demures t air,To even- song , and vespe r prayer .

Each arched porch , and entry low,

Was fill’d with patient folk and s low,

With whispers hush , and shuffl ing feet ,While play’d the organ loud and sweet .The be lls had ceas

’d , the prayers begun,

And Bertha had not yet ha lf doneA curious volume , patch’d and torn,

That all day long , from earl iest morn ,

H ad taken captive her two eyes ,Among its golden broideries ;Perplex

’d her wi th a thousand things ,

‘ I t was be l ieved tha t if a person , on St . Mark’s Eve , placed h imse lf near thechurch-porch when twi l ight was thickening ,

he wou ld beho ld the apparition ofthose pe rsons in the pa rish who we re to b e se ized with any seve re d isea se tha tyear

, go into the church. I f they rema ined there it s ignified the ir dea th ; if theycame out aga in it portended the ir recovery ; and the longer or shorter the t imethey rema ined in the build ing , the severer or less dangerous the ir i l lness. I nfants

,

under age to wa lk , r ol led in.

‘

Rosse tt i po inted out tha t the choice of the local ity of a m inster squareaccorded with this trad ition ; and a t a later date , on read ing the Le tte rs to FannyBrawne , he wrote to me

“I should think it very conce ivable—nay, I wi l l say,

to

myself highly probable and a lmost certa in ,— tha t the Poem which I have in my

head '

referred to_by Keats a t page 1 06was none other than the fragmentary E ve of

S t. M ar k. By the light of the extract . I judge tha t the hero ine— remorsefu lafter trifl ing with a s ick and now absent lover m ight make he rwayto the m inste rporch to learn his fa te by the spe l l, and perhap s see his figure enter b ut no t

return. I t appears that M r . Theodore Wa tts,a very c lose student of Keats and

most intimate friend of Rosse tti when made cognizant o f this view,was a t once

convinced of the grea t probabi lity. Rossetti was re -read ing the two vo lumes of

s e, Letter s &c . published in 1 84 8 , and saw nothing to qua lify his view in the fa ct

tha t Tbc E ve of S t. M ar k wa s a lready begun when the le tter quoted at the head of

this note was written. H e supposed tha t Kea ts had had the poem for some t imeby him a s a commencement

,

"when he wrote to Fanny Brawne ,

“I f my hea lth

would bear it , I could write a Poem which I have in my head , which wou ld b e a

consola tion for peop le in such a s itua t ion as m ine . I would show some one in

Love as I am , with a person l iving in such Liberty a s you do. Whe ther commenced or not with the view in question,

"writes Rossetti , may b e unce rta in

(though he must have known M iss B. when he wrote the H oughton le tter) b ut hemay (without even having a t firs t intended it ) have seen how we l l the scheme ofthe poem (which the superstit ion make s manifest enough) was fi tted to work inwith the ideas expressed in the Brawne letter.”


The stars of H eaven , and ange ls’wings ,Martyrs in a fiery bla ze ,Azure sa ints and s i lve r rays ,Moses

’ breas tplate , and the sevenCandles ticks John saw in H eaven,

The winged Lion of Sa int Mark ,And the Covenanta l Ark,

With its many mysteries ,Cherubim and golden m i ce .

Bertha was a ma iden fa ir ,Dwe ll ing in th’ old Mins ter-square ;From her fire - s ide she could see ,

S idelong , its rich antiqui ty ,Far as the B ishop’s garden-wal l ;Where sycamores and e lm- trees ta ll ,Full- leav’d , the fores t had outstript ,By no sharp north-wind ever nipt ,So shelter

’d by the mighty pile .

Bertha arose , and read awhile ,

With forehead ’

gains t the window-

pane .

Aga in she try’d , and then again,

Unti l the dusk eve left her darkUpon the legend of S t . Mark .

From pla ited lawn-fri ll , fine and th in,

She l ifted up her soft warm chin,

With aching neck and swimm ing eyes ,And daz

’d wi th saintly imageries .

All was gloom , and s i lent al l ,Save now and then the st il l foot-fal lOf one re turning homewards late ,Pas t the echo ing minster-gate .

The clamorous daws , that a ll the dayAbove tree- tops and towers play ,Pa ir by pa ir had gone to rest ,Each in its anc ient belfry-nes t ,

(39 ) Concerning this passage Rossett i wrote I n T/te Cap and B e l ls (the onlyunworth stuff Kea ts eve r wro te excep t an ea rly tr ifle o r two) the re is a mention of

one Be rtha dwe ll ing a t Cante rbury a m inste r City. This seems odd ly mudd ledup with the subject ma tter of T/ze E ve of S t . M ark. The passage refe rred to

beg ins a t S tanza XLI I ; and in Stanza LVI Canterbury, Bertha , and S t. Mark's Eveare a ll three mentioned.


Of Coddes love , and Sathan’s force ,

H e writith ; and thinges many moOf swiche thinges I may not show.

Bot I must te llen verilie

Somdel of Sa inte Cicilie ,And chieflie what he auctorethe

Of Sa inte Markis l ife and det lie

At length her constant eyel ids comeUpon the fervent martyrdom ;Then las tly to his holy shrine ,E xa lt amid the tapers’ shineAt Veni ce ,

ODE TO FANNY.

‘

PH YS ICIAN Nature le t my spirit blood !0 ease my heart of verse and let me rest ;

Throw me upon thy Tripod , till the floodOf s t ifling numbers ebbs from my ful l breas t .

A theme ! a theme ! great nature give a theme ;Le t me begin my dream .

I come I see thee , as thou standest there ,Beckon me not into the wintry air.

Ah dearest love , swee t home of all my fears ,And hopes , and joys , and panting m iseries ,

This poem was first g iven among the Literary Rema insin 1 848 without anydate .

The phase of fee l ing it represents was one of such frequent recurrence tha t,in the

absence of d irec t evidence ,no exact da te can be a ss igned ; b ut it seems ve ry like ly

that the early part Of 1 8 1 9 would b e the t ime . The first le tte r to M iss Brawne fromShank lin,

written on the 3rd of Ju ly, corresponds with this poem in tone and

though t , and might tend to fix the da te wrongly in the reader’

s m ind ,b ut if it be

a llowab le to take the e xpre ss ion wintry air in s tanza I li te ra l ly, and to accept stanza

7 a s ind icat ing tha t the young coup le had rea l ly b ut late ly come to an understand

ing when the ode wa s written,the p robabil i ty is tha t it was composed during his

absence a t Chicheste r inJsanua ry in contempla tion o f some N ew Yea r da nce a t

H ampstead at which M iss rawne was to b e . I have neve r seen a manusc ript o f

this poem ; but upon interna l evidence I should b e disposed to think tha t the word

POS TH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 4 29

To-night , if I may guess , thy beauty wearsA smile of such del ight ,As bri ll iant and as bright ,

As when wi th ravished , aching , vassal eyes ,Lost in soft amaze ,I gaz e , I gaze !

3.

Who now, with greedy looks , eats up my feast ?What stare outfaces now my s i lver moon

Ah keep that hand unravished a t the leas t ;Let , let , the amorous burnBut , pr

’ythee , do not turnThe current of your heart from me so soon,

0 ! save , in chari ty ,The quickest pulse for me .

4 .

Save it for me , swee t love ! though music breatheVoluptuous vis ions into the warm air ,

Though swimming through the dance’s dangerous wreath ;Be l ike an Apri l day,Sm il ing and cold and gay,

A tempera te l i lly , tempera te as fair ;Then, H eaven there wil l beA warmer June for me .

5.

Why , this you’l l say, my Fanny ! is not truePut your soft hand upon your showy s ideWhere the heart beats : confess ’

tis nothing new

Mus t not a woman beA feather on the sea ,

Sway’d to and fro by every wind and tide ?Of as uncerta in speedAs blow-ba l l from the mead ?

not in the las t l ine of stanza 1 should be out ; tha t the last l ine but one of s tanza 2

should beLos t in a soft amaze ,

and that the a has been dropped by acc ident.

430 POS TH UMOUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS .

I know i t— and to know it is despairTo one who loves you as I love , sweet Fanny !Whose heart goes flut tering for you every where ,

Nor , when away you roam ,

D are keep its wretched home ,

Love , love a lone , his pa ins severe and manyThen ,

lovel ies t ! keep me free ,From torturing jealousy .

Ah if you prize my subdu’d soul above

The poor, the fading , brief pride of an hour ;Let none profane my H oly See of love ,

Or with a rude'

ha'

iid breakThe sacramental cake :

Let none else touch the just new-budded flower ;I f not— may my eyes close ,LOvé ! on the ir lost repose.

ODE ON INDOLENCE .

’

They toil not, ne ithe r do theyspin.”

ONE morn before me were three figures seen,

With bowed necks , and joined hands , s ide-facedAnd one behind the other stepp’

d serene ,

I n placid sandals , and in white robes gracedThey pass’d , like figures on a marble urn,

When shifted round to see the other s ideThey came again ; as when the urn once more

I s shifted round , the first seen shades . re turnAnd they were strange to me , as may be ti eWith vases , to one deep in Phidian lore .

First given by Lord H oughton among the Li terary Rema ins in 1 848 ,with the date

1 8 1 9 . Among the many debts of these not es to the la te D ante Gabrie l Rosse tt i , Imust not fa i l to record the ind ica tion of the fo llowing pa ssage from Ke ats

’

s hue:b egun on the 1 4 th ofFebruary 1 8 1 9 as ant ic ipat ing the Ode on I ndolence

432 POS TH UMOUS AN D FUGI TI VE POEMS .

And for that poor Ambition ! i t springsFrom a man’s l i ttle heart’s short fever-fit ;

For Poesy !— no ,— she has not a joy,

At leas t for me ,- so swee t as drowsy noons ,

And evenings s teep’

d in honied indolence ;O , for an age so shelter

’

d from annoy ,That I may never know how change the moons ,Or hear the voice of busy common-sense !

And once more came they by ; alas wherefore ?My s leep had been embroider

’d wi th dim dreams ;

My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o’er

With flowers , and st irring shades , and baffl ed beamsThe mom was clouded , but no shower fel l ,Tho

’in her l ids hung the swee t tears of May ;

The open casement press’d a new- leav’d vine ,

Let in the budding warmth and throstle’s lay ;O Shadows ! ’twas a t ime to bid farewel l !

Upon your skirts had fal len no tears of mine .

50, ye three Ghosts , adieu ! Ye cannot raiseMy head cool -bedded in the flowe ry grass ;

For I would not be dieted wi th pra ise ,A pet

- lamb in a sentimenta l farce !Fade softly from my eyes , and be once more

I n masque - l ike figures on the dreamy urn ;Farewel l ! I ye t have visions for the night,And for the day fa int vis ions there is store ;

Vanish , ye Phantoms ! from my idle spright,Into the clouds , and never more return !

(6) I t is no doubt owing to the want of opportunity to revise the poem fin

zl

o

l

ztha t this beautiful stanza comes down to us disfigured by the bad rhyme g r ass

POS TH UM OUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS . 433

SONNET.

‘

WHY did I laugh to-night ? No voi ce wi l l tellNo God , no D emon of severe response ,

D e igns to reply from H eaven or from H e l l .Then to my human heart I turn a t once .

H eart Thou and I are here sad and a lone ;I say, why did I laugh ? O mortal pain !0 Darkness ! D arkness ! ever mus t I moan,

To question H eaven and H ell and H eart in vain.

Why did I laugh ? I know this Be ing’s lease ,My fancy to its utmos t blisses spreads ;

Yet would I on this very m idnight cease ,

And the world’s gaudy ens igns see in shreds ;Verse , Fame , and Beauty are intense indeed ,But D eath intenser D eath is Life’s high meed.

SONNETJ

A DREAM , AFTER READ I NG DANTE’S EP I SODE OF PAULO AND

FRANCESCA .

S H ermes once took to his feathers l ight ,When lul led Argus , baffled , swoon’d and s lept ,

So on a D elphic reed , my idle sprightSo play

’d , so charm

’d , so conquer

’d , so bereft

The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes ;And , see ing i t as leep , so fled away

This sonne t,first g iven in the Life , Letter s &c was probably composedbe tween the 1 9 th of March and the 1 5th of April 1 8 1 9 ,

a s it formed pa rt of thejourna l le tter re fe rred to in the note to the p reced ing poem ,and was given imme

diate ly before a new d ivision bea ring the late r da te . Keats says he had intendednot to send the Sonnet to George and his wife ,

on account of their anx ie ties abouthis temperament ; b ut he refers to other passage s in his le tter as the bes t comm ent on the sonnet

,and ends the subject with a triumphant I went to b ed and

enjoyed uninterrupted s leep : sane I went to b ed ,and sane I arose .

”

A man m ightwe l l go to b ed sane afte r writing the fina l coup le t, which is in a thoroughly se lfconta ined and contempla tive ve in —s trange ly so for the end of such a bitter seriesof obst inate quest ionings .

”

{ This beautifu l Sonne t seem s to have b e enwritten orig ina l ly in the first volume ofthe m iniature Ca ry’s D ante which Keats ca rried through Scotland inebis knap sack ;and the compos ition should p robably b e‘ a ss igned to the ear ly par t'of Apri l 1 8 1 9 .

There is a fa ir transcript written on one of the blank leaves a t the end of the copy

POSTH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

Not to pure I da wi th its snow-cold skies ,Nor unto Tempe where Jove griev’d a day ;

But to that second circle of'

sad he ll ,Where ’mid the gus t , the whirlwind ,

.and the flaw

Of ra in and ha i l-s tones , lovers need not te l lThe ir sorrows . Pa le were the sweet l ips I saw,

Pale were the l ips I kiss’d , and fa ir the'

form‘I floated wi th , about that melancholy storm '

.

of Endymion in Sir Cha rles D i lke’

s possess ion. The sonne t was'

pub l ished ove rthe s igna ture Caviare ”

in l e I ndica tor for the a8th of June 1 820. I ns ide therec to cove r o f the l ittle I nferno Kea ts began by writing the words ‘AWZI d a t/zousand;and he then seem s to have turned the book round for affresh s tart ; for ins ide theverso cover be has written

Full in the midst of bloom less hours my 25219”

See ing one n ight the dragon world as leepArose l ike

The sonnet is finally written in a crampe d'

manner on the last end-

paper, and isa lmost identica l with the fa ir copy ; b ut it shows the cance l led seventh l ine

But not Olympus-ward to serene

though fina l ly agree ing with the othe r co y in read ing N ot to pur e I da ,ins tead of

N ot unto I da as n o I ndica tor reads . oth manuscripts read t/za t day insteado f a day in line 8 ; b ut I do not doubt that Kea ts revised the l ine ,

to avo id the repe

tition of t/za t in l ine 9 , when he g ave the sonne t to H unt. I t wi l l b e rememberedtha t the young poet was present a t the making up of that numbe r of the e lde r poe t‘spe r iod ica l , fo r , in NO . 36 of La g }; H unt

’

s London yaw-

na l (D ecembe r 3,by

way of footno te to a quota tion from Kea ts in A N ow ; D escr iptive of a Cold

D ay,H unt says , refe rring to the ve ry number conta ining the sonnet , M r . Keats

gave us some touche s in our account of the H ot D ay (firs t pub lished in the I n

dica tor as we sa t wri ting it , in his company thirtee n or fourte en yeais back." Onthis evidence I do no t hes itate to adopt a lso the read ing ’

mid for 1 72in l ine 1 0,and

some de ta i ls of punctua tion. The nus-spe l ling wor ld-wind for w/z zr lwind in the

same l ine in l e I ndica tor is ce rta inly much more l ike Kea ts than H unt,b ut of

course accidenta l. I presume the copy of the poem sent to Ge orge Kea ts is s ti l l inAm e rica : in the le tte r embodying it , published by Lord H ough ton in the L zfie,Letter s &c. Kea ts g ive s a graphic a ccount of the d ream ,

in prose . S ee the

Le tter in this ed i tion,unde r da te the 1 sth ofApri l 1 8 1 9 . I t is worth while to rec0id

that D ante G abrie l Rosse tti,writing to me concerning the fa lse ihyme s lept and

Oerefi,charac terized this as b fa r the fine st of Keats’s sonne ts (mos tly very fau lty

or infer ior) bes ide s tha t on C apman’

s H omer. This anoma ly,

"added Rosse tti

,“ is a ll the more curious when we cons ider the sort of echo it gi ves of a line in E ndymzon,

So sad; So me lancholy,so bereft.

The l ine wi l l be found a t page 1 35. The s trangene ss of the omiss ion to findout the fau lt in the rhyme is furthe r enhanced when we consider how manyt imes Kea ts must have written the sonne t ove r. This p lace must se rve me to

sta te that Rosse tt i qua l ified his e stima te o f the sonne ts iii a la te r le tte r by inform ingme that on furthe r e xam ina tion he foundd he re we re fourteen more o r less wo rthyof bins.

”I should have s aidgmore than fourteen,

and had looked forwa rd wi th interest to a com arison of noies we we re to

'have had ; but a las ! the grea t artist ’suntime ly dea f intervened .


SONNET .

‘

IFby dull rhymes our Engl ish must be chain’d,And , l ike Andromeda , the Sonne t swee tFe tte r’d , in spi te of pa ined love l iness ;

Let us find out , if we mus t be constrain’

d ,

Sanda ls more interwoven and comple teTo fit the naked foot of Poesy ;Le t us inspect the Lyre , and we igh the stressOf e very chord , and see wha t may be gain

’

d

B ear indus trious , and attention meet ;Nei

l

sers of sound and syllable , no lessThan Midas of his coinage , le t us be

Jea lous of dead leaves in the bay wreath crown ,

So , if we may not let the Muse be free ,

She wi l l be bound with garlands of her own .

SONG OF FOUR FAER I ES J'

FI RE, AI R, EARTH , AND WATER,

SALAMANDER , ZEPHYR , DUSKETH A , AND BREAMA .

Sa lamander .

HAPPY , happy glowing fire

Fragrant air ! del icious l ightThis experiment in sonne t me tre appears to have beenwritten on or very short ly

before the 3rd of May 1 8 1 9 ,and was first g iven in the Lie

,Letter s &c . ( 1 8 I t

was the la st poem t ranscribed in the journa l le tter to orge Kea ts and is wifebegun on the i4 th of Februa ry and ended on the 3rd ofMay,

and stood immed iate lyove r the words This is the third of May,

”

and under the fo llowing paragraph“I have be en endeavouring to d iscover a be tter Sonne t s tanza than we have .

The leg itima te does not su it the language we l l , from the pounc ing rhymes ; the

o ther appears too e legiac , and the coup le t a t the end of it has se ldom a p leas inge ffect. I do not p retend to have succeeded . I t wi ll e xp la in itse lf.”Keats

’

s success bo th in the “ leg itima te and the other " (by which he means

the Shakespea rean sonne t ) is fa r more no table than in the pre sent charm ing expe ri

ment—the text of which,as g iven above

,accords with a manus cript a t the end

o f Sir Cha rle s D i lke ’

s copy of E ndymwn .

t This poem was firs t g iven by Lord H oughton among the Li terary Remains inthe Lif e, Letters &c. with the date 1 8 1 9 .

POSTH UM OUS AND FUG I TI VE POEMS . 437

Let me to my glooms ret ire !

B r eama

I to green-weed rivers bright !

Sa lamander .

H appy , happy glowing fire !D azzling bowers of soft retire ,Ever let my nourish

’d wing ,

Like a bat’s , s t il l wandering ,Fa int ly fan your fiery spaces ,Spiri t sole in deadly places .

I n unhaunted roar and blaze ,

Open eyes that never daze ,

Let me see the myriad shapesOf men , and beas ts , and fish , and

Portray’d in many a fiery den ,

And wrought by spumy bi tumen .

On the deep intenser roof,Arched every way a loof,Let m e breathe upon the ir skies ,And anger the ir l ive tapes tries ;Free from cold , and every care ,Of chilly ra in , and shivering air .

Spirit of Fire ! away ! away !Or your very roundelayWill sear my plumage nevt ly buddedFrom its qu i l led sheath , a ll s tuddedWith the se lf-same dews that fe llOn the May

-

grown Asphode l .Spiri t of Fire— away ! away !

Er gama .

Spiri t of Fire — away ! away !Zephyr , blue-ey

’d Faery , turn ,

And see my cool sedge -bury’d urn ,Where i t rests its mossy brim

POSTH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POM S.

’Mid water-m int and cresses dim ;And the flowers , in sweet troubles ,Lift the ir eyes above the bubbles ,Like our Queen , when she would pleaseTo s leep , and Oberon will teaze .

Love me , blue-ey’d Faery , true !Soothly I am sick for you .

Gentle Breama ! by the firs tViole t young nature nurst ,

I wi l l bathe myse lf with thee ,So you some t imes follow me

To my home , far , far , in wes t ,Beyond the nimble -whee led questOf the golden-browed sun :

Come with me , o’er tops of trees ,

To my fragrant palaces ,Where they ever floa ting are

Beneath the cherish of a s tar

Ca ll’d Vesper , who wi th s ilver veil

Ever hides his bri ll iance pale ,Ever gently-drows’d doth keepTwi l ight for the Fayes to s leep .

Fear not that your watery ha irWill thirs t in drouthy ringlets there ;Clouds of stored summer ra insThou shalt tas te , before the sta insOf the mounta in soil they take ,And too unlucent for thee make .

I love thee , crystal Faery , true !Sooth I am as s ick for you !

Sa lamander .

Out , ye aguish Faeries , out !Chilly lovers , what a routKeep ye with your frozen brea th ,Colder than the mortal death .

Adder-ey’d Dusketha , speak ,Sha l l we leave these , and go seekI n the earth’s wide entra i ls old

Couches warm as the ir’s are cold ?0 for a fiery gloom and thee ,

4 40 POSTH UM OUS AND FUGITIVE POEMS .

Far in the west where the May-cloud lowers ;

And the beams of s ti ll Vesper , when winds are all wist ,Are shed thro’

the ra in and the m ilder m is t ,And twil ight your floating bowers .

TWO SONNETS ON FAME .

‘

AME , l ike a wayward girl , wi l l s til l be coyTo those who woo her with too s lavish knees ,

But makes surrender to some thoughtl ess boy,And dotes the more upon a heart a t ease ;

She is a Gipsey, will not speak to thoseWho have not learnt to be content wi thout her ;

A J i lt , whose ear was never whispe r’d close ,Who thinks they scandal her who talk about her ;

A very G lpsey is she , N i lus -born ,

S ister-in-law to jea lous Pot iphar ;Ye love - s i ck Bards , repay her scorn for scorn,

Ye Artis ts love lorn , madmen tha t ye are

Make your best bow to her and bid adieu ,

Then, if she likes it , she will follow you.

You cannot eat your cake and have it too .—P r ow r b.

OW fever’d is the man , who cannot look

Upon his mortal days wi th tempera te blood ,Who ve xes al l the leaves of his l ife’s book ,

And robs his fa ir name of its ma idenhood ;I t is as if the rose should pluck herse lf,Or the r ipe plum finger its m isty bloom ,

As if a Na iad , l ike a meddling elf,Should darken her pure g

orrot wi th muddy gloom ,

Both these sonne ts we re given among the Literary Rema ins in the Life , Letter s&c .

,with the da te 1 8 1 9 , wh ich they a lso bea r in the manuscript a t the end o f Sir

Char les D i lke ’

s copy of E ndymion . This m anuscript shows no varia tion beyond a

few stops.

P OS TH UM OUS AND FUGITIVE POEMS . 4 4 1

But the rose leaves herse lf upon the briar ,For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed ,

And the ripe plum s t il l wears its dim attire ,The undisturbed lake has crys ta l space ,Why then should man , tea zing the world for grace ,

Spoi l his sa lva tion for a fierce m iscreed ?

SONNET TO SLEEP .

*

SOFT emba lmer of the still m idnight ,Shutt ing wi th careful fingers and benign ,

Our gloom -pleas’d eyes , embower’d from the l ight ,

Enshaded in forgetfulness divineO soothes t S leep ! if so it please thee , close ,

I n m ids t of th is thine hymn , my wi ll ing eyes ,This sonnet was first given by Lord H oughton among the Literary Rema ins in

1 84 8. Keats appears to have drafted twe lve l ines ofit in the co y of M i lton’

s Par

adiS e Lost which he annotated and gave to M r. and M rs . Dil e ; and there is acomp lete fa ir manuscript da ted 1 8 1 9 in Sir Char les D i lke '

s copy of E ndymion .

The te xt a s given above accords ent1 re ly with the fa ir manuscript , save that I haveadop ted Lord H oughton'

s read ing lu l ling for dewy in l ine 8 , as p robably fromanother and later m anuscrip t. The draft, which was published in The At/zena nm

for the 26th ofOctober 1 87 2, reads fina lly thus ( I transcribe d irectly from the man

uscri tpO soft emba lmer of the st i l l M idnigh tShutting with carefu l finge rs and benign

Our g loom p leas'

d eyes embowe red from the l ightAs wearisome as darkness l S d ivine

O soothest s leep , if so it p lease thee c loseMywi l ling eyes in m idst of this thine hymn

Or wa it the amen,e re thy poppy throws

I ts swee t-dea th dews o '

e r eve ry pulse and l imbThen shu t the hushed Casket ofmy sou lAnd turn the key round in the‘oiled wards

And let it re st unt i l the m orn has stole ,

Bright tressed From the grey east 's shudd eringThere is a cancel led opening for l ine 4 ,

Of sun or tea sing candles ; in l ine 6M inehas been b ut imperfectly a ltered to My ; in l ine 1 1 the words IzaS stol e a re struckthrough , b ut without anything be ing substituted for them ; and of l ine 1 2 there is anincomp lete cance l led read ing

From the west’

s shudderingThough the manuscr ipt is a l itt le blotty there is b ut one word about which there isany doubt , name ly the compound sweet-dea th ; and I have no ser ious doubt as tothat ; b ut l itera lly it looks l ike sweet-darn, the it howeve r having the appea rance o f

an e and an a run togethe r. The hyphen be tween Sweet and dea tii shou ld perhapsbe between dea f/z and dews and in l ine 1 1 of the text the word lord: shou ld probably b e boards , from which Keats would not have been unl ike ly to drop the a . That

44 2 POS TH UM OUS AND FUGITIVE POEMS .

Or wa i t the amen, ere thy poppy throwsAround my bed its lull ing chari ties ;

Then save m e , or the passed day wi l l shineUpon my pi llow, breeding many woe s ,Save me from curious consc ience , that sti ll 10rds

I ts s trength for darkness , burrowing l ike a moleTurn the key deftly in the o i led wards ,

And seal the hushed caske t ofmy soul .

A PARTY OF LOVERS .

*

ENS I VE they sit , and roll the ir languid eye s ,Nibb le the ir toast , and cool the ir tea wi th sighs ,Or e lse forge t the purpose of the night ,Forget the ir t ea forge t the ir appe t i te .

See wi th cross’d arms they sit ah happy crew,

The fire is going out and no one ringsFor coals , and therefore no coa ls Betty brings .

A fly is in the m i lk-pot mus t he dieBy a humane society ?

No , no ; there Mr . Wert er takes his spoon ,

Inse rts i t , dips the handle , and lo soon

The l ittle straggler , sav’d from pe ri ls dark ,Across the teaboard draws a long we t mark

Arise ! take snuffers by the handle ,

There’s a large caul iflower in each candle .

he did not add the fina l two l ines to the draft is a grea t loss to students of his wayof work ; for this is one of the most notable instances of a good d raft be ing con

ve rted into a far be tter poem . The transpos it ion and transp lantat ion of l ines 9and 1 0 of the draft , so a s to bring til e fins/zed casket of tire sou l to the end

,was a

maste r- stroke of the highe st poetic inst inct .This is one of the many varie t ies o f theW inche ster journa l- le tte r of S eptembe r

1 8 1 9 ,as published in the New York Wor ld of the asth o f June 1 87 7 . Ke a ts char

a cte rize s the j eu d'

e‘

sprit as a few nonsense ve rses .

"They were probab ly written

on the 1 7 th of S eptember ; and they i l lustra ted the fo l lowing passage in the journa lle tte r

Nothing strike s m e so forc ibly with a sense of the rid iculous as love .

A man in love I do think cuts the sorries t figure in the wor ld . {Even whenI know a oor foo l to b e rea l ly in pa in about it I cou ld burs t out laughing inhis fa ce . is pa the t ic Visage becomes irresist ible . Not that I take H . a s a pa ttern for lovers ; he is a very worthy man and a good friend . H is love is very amus

ing . Somewhe re in the Spectator is re la ted an a ccount o f a man inviting a pa rty o fs tuttere rs and squ inte rs to his table . I t would p lease me more to scrape togethe r aparty of love rs ; not to d inne r no

,to tea . The re wou ld b e no fight ing as among

knights of old.

”


What can I do to kill i t and be freeI n my old l iberty ?When every fa ir one tha t I saw was fair ,Enough to catch me in but hal f a snare ,

Not keep me thereWhen ,

howe’er poor or particolour’d things ,My muse had wings ,And ever ready was to take her course '

Whither I bent her force ,

Uninte llectua l , ye t div ine to m e ;

D ivine ,I say — What sea -bird o’

er the s ea

I s a philosopher the whil e he goesWinging a long where the grea t water throes ?

H ow shal l I doTo ge t anew

Those moul ted feathers , and so mount once more

Above , aboveThe reach of fluttering Love ,

And make him cower lowly while I soar ?Shal l I gulp wine ? No , that is vulgarism ,

A heresy and schism ,

Foisted into the canon law of love ;No , wine is only sweet to happy men ;More dismal caresSe i ze on me unawares ,

Where sha l l I learn to ge t my peace aga in ?To banish thoughts of tha t most ha teful land ,D ungeoner of my friends , that wicked s trandWhere they were wreck’d and l ive a wrecked life ;Tha t monstrous reg ion , whose dul l r ivers pour ,E ver from the ir sordid urns unto the shore ,

Unown’d of any weedy-ha ired gods ;

and I should b e d isposed to a ss ign them to the 1 2th of tha t month,the day before

that on which Kea ts pos ted a le tte r a t We stm ins te r to M iss Brawne, saying inter

a lia tha t he ha s se t h im se lf to copy some ve rse s out fa ir, and add ing “

I cannot

p roceed with any degre e o f content . I must wr i te you a l ine or two and see if tha twi l l as s ist in dismis smg you from myM ind fo r eve r so short a t im e . The textappears to m e to need revis ion in ce rta in po ints ; b ut I know of no author ity forchange . Thus

,in l ine 3, the word and or Out ha s p robably d ropped out a fte r Aye.

(33) Probably wr ecked shou ld b e wr etc/zed . The re se ems a want of aptne ss in

m aking use of wr eck’

d (monosyllable ) and wr ecked (d issyllable ) in such sharpcounte rpo int ; and Kea ts wou ld b e qu ite l ike ly to write wr ecked without the t andthus leave the word easy to m istake for wr ecked.

(35) I shou ld think E ven a l ike l ier initial word here than E ver .


Whose winds , al l zephyrless , hold scourging rods ,I c

’d in the grea t lakes , to afllict mankind ;Whose rank -grown fores ts , fros ted , black , and blind ,Would fright a D ryad ; whose harsh herbag’d meadsMake lean and lank the starv

’d ox while he feeds ;There bad flowers have no scent , birds no sweet song ,

And grea t unerring Nature once seems wrong .

0, for some sunny spel lTo diss ipate the shadows of th is he l lSay they are gone , — wi th the new dawning l ightS teps forth my lady bright0, let me once more res tiMy 501 1 ] upon that dazzl ing breast !Let once aga in these aching arms be plac

’d ,

The tender gaolers of thy wa ist !And let me fee l tha t warm breath here and thereTo spread a rapture in my very ha ir ,0, the sweetness of the pa in !G ive me those l ips aga inEnough ! Enough it is enough for me

To dream of thee !

SONNET TO FANNY .

*

CRY your mercy pi ty love —aye , love !Mercifu l love tha t tanta l i zes not ,

One - thoughted , never-wandering , guile less love ,Unmask

’d , and be ing seen— wi thout a blot

0 ! le t me have thee whole ,— all

— all be m ine !That shape , that fa irness , that sweet m inor zes t

Of love , your kiss , those hands , those eyes div ine ,Tha t warm , white ,

lucent , m il lion-

pleasured breas t ,Yourse lf— your soul —in p i ty g ive me all ,

Withhold no atom’s atom or I die ,

Or l iv ing on pe rhaps , your wretched thrall ,Forget , in the m ist of idle m isery ,Life’s purposes , — the palate of my m indLos ing its gus t , and my ambit ion blind

First g iven among the Lite rary Rema ins in 1 84 8 , dated 1 8 1 9 . I have no data

upon which to suggest the pe r iod m ore exac tly ; b ut the despe ra tion of tone may

perhaps ind ica te tha t the sonne t was composed la te in the year.

POSTH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

SONNET TO GEORGE KEATS :"

WR I TTEN I N S I CKNESS .

ROTH ER belov’d if heal th shall smile again,

Upon this wasted form and fever’d cheek :I f e

’er returning vigour bid these weak

And langu id l imbs the ir gladsome strength regain,

We ll may thy brow the placid glow reta inOf swee t content and thy pleas’d eye may speakThe conscious se lf applause , but should I seek

To utte r what this heart can fee l , Ah ! vainWere the attempt Yet kindest friends while o’erMy couch ye bend , and watch with tenderness

The be ing whom your cares could e’en restore ,From the cold grasp of D eath , say can you guessThe fee l ings which these l ips can ne

’er express ;Fee l ings , deep fix’

d in grateful memory’s store .

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI .f

H , what can ail thee , wre tched Wight,Alone and palely loitering ;

The sedge is wither’d from the lake ,And no birds s ing .

This sonnet is from a t ranscri t in the ha ndwriting of George Kea ts ,which bearsthe date 1 8 1 9 ; b ut I am d ispose to think this da te must have been wrong ly affixedfrom memory. The entire absence of high poe tic fee l ing ind ica tes a time o f u tter

hysica l prostration ; and I should imag ine that the sonne t m ight poss ib ly havege en written in Feb rua ry 1 820 , when Kea ts was s ti l l so ill as to be forbidden to

write,and that it m ight have been sent to George with the announcement o f the

i l lne ss ; b ut it seems l ike l i er tha t it was composed la ter on in the year,in rep ly to

some letter wr itten by G eorge on rece iving tha t news—a le tter in which theyoun er brothe r m ight have reproached himse lf for leaving the e lde r, low in hea lthand unds , and for rushing back to Ame rica to m end his own fortunes .

t This poem was first published by Leigh H unt in I ke I ndicator for the 1 0th ofMay 1 820 (No . XXX I ) , with some introductory remarks which wil l b e found in theAppend ix . The s igna ture used by Kea ts on this occas ion, as on that of is suing theSonne t on a D ream (page 433) was

"Caviare.

"I n 1 84 8 Lord H oughton gave

the poem among the Literary Remains , appa rent ly from a manuscript source ,for the variations are very cons iderable . I think the re can be no doubt tha t theI ndicator vers ion is a revis ion of the other, and I have therefore adopted it in the

44 8 POS TH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS .

7 .

She found me roots of rel ish sweet ,And honey wi ld , and manna dew ;

And sure in language s trange she said ,I love thee true .

She took me to her elfin grot ,And there she gaz

’d and s ighed deep,

And there I shut her wild sad eyesSo kiss

’d to s leep .

9 .

And there we slumber’d on the moss ,

And there I dream’d , ah woe be tide ,The latest dream I ever dream’

d

On the cold hill s ide .

I saw pale kings , and princes too ,

Pale warriors , death-pa le were they all ;Who cry

’d La be lle D ame sans merciH ath thee in thra l l

I saw the ir starv’d l ips in the gloomWith horrid warning gaped wide ,And I awake, and found me hereOn the cold hill s ide .

(8—9 ) I n Lord H oughton’

s vers ionShe took me to her e lfin grot,And there she wept , and sigh

'

d ful l sore ,And the re I shut her wi ld wi ld eyesW ith kisse s four.

And there she lul led me as leepAnd in line 4 of stanzas 9 and 1 1

,we have kil l ’s side for kil l side . The kisses fou r

perhaps Struck Keats , upon review,a s a litt le qua int ; and the other changes a re an

organic consequence of tha t made here .

( 1 0) Lord H oughton reads Tlicy for W/zo in l ine 3.

( 1 1 ) The read ing !gleam for g loom , wh ich occurs in the Literary Rema ins , is socharacteristic that there is some temptation to reta in it against the evidence of The

POSTH UMOUS AND FUGI TI VE POEMS . 4 4 9

And this is why I sojourn hereAlone and pa le ly loi ter ing ,

Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake ,And no birds s ing .

SONN

WR I TTEN ON A BLANK PAGE 1 N SHAKESPEARE’S POEMS , FAC I NG A

LOVER’S COMPLA I NT .

”

RIGHT star , would I were stedfast as thou art

Not in lone splendour hung a loft the n ightAnd watching , with eternal l ids apart ,

Like nature’s patient , s leepless Erem ite ,The moving waters at the ir priestl ike taskOf pure ablution round earth’s human shores ,

Or gazing on the new soft-fa llen maskOf snow upon the mounta ins and the moors

I ndicator in favour of its rejec tion by Keats for H unt mayhave made tha t sma l lchange . There is a graphic va lue in the stra ined use of g loam for g loaming whichcounterba lances its gramma t ica l laxity ; and it certa in ly exceeds the more ord inaryword g loom in oct ic intens ity.

Lord H oug ton records that , afterKea ts had embarked for I ta ly he landed oncemore ih -En land , on the D orsetshire coast , after a weary fortnight spent in beatingabout the baune l ; the bright beauty of the day and the sce ne revived the poet’sdrooping heart , and the insp irat ion rema ined on him for som e time even a fter his

return to the ship . I t was then tha t he compose d tha t sonne t of solemn tende rness,Bright star iwou ld I were steadfast as thou a rt

,

’

&c .

and wrote it out in a copy of Shakespeare ’s Poems he had g iven to Severn a fewtays before . I know of nothing written afterwards .

"

The copy of Shakespeare ’

s Poe tica l Works had been g iven to Ke a ts by JohnH am 1 lton Reynolds , and is now in the possess ion of Sir Charles D i lke . I t is a

roya l 8vo vo lume“

printed for Thomas W 1ison, No . 1 0,London-H ouse-yard

, S t.

Pau l’s,in 1 806 ; and this sonne t , ofwhich a fac-s im i le is here g iven ,

is wr itten upon

the verso of the fly-title to A Lover

'

s Complaint. I t seems fa ir to assum e that thereason ofits be ing so high up on the page is tha t it thus fa ces a spa ce of equa l s izeconta in ing no words e xcept the bo ld ly printed head ing of Shakespeare '

s poem , ALover

'

s Complaint , as if in tha t mournfu l moment Kea ts des ired to appropria te tohis last poet ic utterance a style and t itle a lready immorta l. Lord H oughton g ives avariant o f the last line

H a lf-passionless , and so swoon on to death .

As th e re is no trace of this in the Shake speare ,there must have been another manu

script—perhaps a penc i l led d raft— and it is to b e p resumed that the words fa l l


No—yet sti ll s tedfas t , stil l unchangeable ,Pillow

’d upon my fa ir love’s ripening breas t ,

To feel for ever its soft fal l and swe ll ,Awake for ever in a sweet unrest ,

S til l , s ti ll to hear her tender-taken breath ,And so live ever or e lse swoon to death .

and swel l,1n l ine 1 1 of Lord H oughton’

s text occurred in that,swel l andfa l l the

read ing of the Shakespeare ,be ing m that cas e an e rror of transcription on Kea ts

'

5

part. The date of the poem is about the end of September or beginning of Octobe r1 820. I t was published in February 1 846, with a letter from Severn,

in Tke Union

M ag azine .

4 52 OTH O TH E GREAT.

couple ? H e says the Emperor must have a sp ice of drollery . H is

introduction of G rimm ’s adventure , lying three days on his back for

love , though i t spoi ls the unity of time , is not out of the way for the

character of Ludolf, so I have consented to i t ; but I cannot endure hisfancy of mak ing the princess blow up her ha irdresser , for smearing hercheek wi th poma tum and spoi l ing her rouge . I t may be natura l , ashe observes , but so m ight many things . H owever , such as i t is , i t hasadvanced to nearly the end of the fourth act .

” The la te Joseph Severnpossessed an autograph manuscript of th is play , from whi ch he was inthe habit of giving away pieces as spec imens of Kea ts’s wri ting . After

his death there were st ill many leaves ent ire a sma ll port ion of Act

I , the grea ter part of scene I I , Act I V, and mos t of Act V . I havecollated these port ions with the printed tex t , adopted some readings ,and noted others , as wi ll be seen . The e xact order in which thistragedy and the two fragments of King S tep/zen and Tbc Cap and

B ells should be arranged in regard to the lates t of Keats’s otherpos thumous poems cannot , I imagine , be de term ined . H aving regardto th is circumstance and the ent ire difference of form and matter fromwhat is characteris tic of Keats , I have thought it we l l to place thesethree essays las t , rather than dis turb the sequence of those poems

which are more representative ,though of course the sonne t wr itten in

Shakespeare’s Poems , at a ll events , was later than either of these threetentat ive pieces . H . B . F ]

DRAMATIS PERSON/E.

OTHo TH E GREAT , Emperor of Germany .

LUDOLPH , his Son .

CONRAD , D uke Of Franconia .

ALBERT , a a g/zt , f avour ed by Ot/zo .

S I G I FRED , a n Oficer , f riend of Ludolp/z .TH EODORE ,

GONFRED ,

ETHELBERT ,a n Abbot .

GERSA , P rince of H unga ry .

An H unga rian Captain .

N obles , a g/its , Attendants , and Soldier s .

ERM I N I A , M'

ece of Otlzo.

AURANTHE , Conr ad’s Sister

Ladies and Attendants .

SCENE . TI ze Castle of Friedburg, its vicinity , and tire

H unga rian Camp .

T I ME . One day.

OTH O TH E GREAT.

ACT I .

SCENE I . An Apa r tment in tbe Cas tle. Enter CONRAD .

CONRAD .

O ,I am safe emerged from these broi ls !Am id the wreck of thousands I am whole ;For every crime I have a laure l-wreath ,

For every lie a lordship . Nor yet has

My ship of fortune furl’d her s i lken sa i ls ,Let her gl ide on This danger’d neck is saved ,By de xterous pol icy , from the rebe l’s axe ;And of my duca l palace not one s toneI s bruised by the H ungarian pe tards .

Toi l hard , ye s laves , and from the m iser-earthBring forth once more my bul l ion, treasured deep ,With all my jewell’d sa lvers , s i lver and gold ,And precious goblets tha t make rich the wine .

But why do I s tand babbling to myse lf?Where is Auranthe ? I have news for her

Shal lEnter AURANTH E .

AURANTH E .

Conrad ! what tidings ? Good , if I may guessFrom your alert eyes and high- l ifted brows .

What t idings of the battle ? Albert ? Ludolph ? Otho ?

CONRAD .

You guess aright . And , s ister, s lurr ing o’er

Our by-

gone quarre ls , I confess my heartI s beating wi th a child’s anx iety ,To make our golden fortune known to you.

456 OTH O TH E GREAT

Appear’d , a sudden host , in the open day.

I should have perish’d in our empire’s wreck ,But , call ing interest loya lty , swore fa i thTo most be l iev ing Otho ; and so help

’d

H is blood- stain’d ens igns to the victoryI n yes terday’s hard fight , that i t has turn’d

The edge of his sharp wra th to eager kindness .

AURANTH E .

So far yourse lf. But wha t is th is to meMore than that I am glad ? I gra tulate you.

CONRAD .

Yes , s ister , but it doe s regard you grea tly,Nearly , momentous ly , aye , pa infu lly !Make me this vow

AURANTH E .

Concerning whom or wha t ?

CONRAD .

AlbertAURANTHE .

I would inquire somewhat of himYou had a le tter from me touching him ?No treason ’

ga inst his head in deed or word !Sure ly you spar

’d him at my earnes t prayer ?G ive me the letter i t should not e xist !

CONRAD .

At one perni cious charge of the enemy ,I , for a moment-whiles , was prisoner ta’enAnd rifled , s tuff ! the horses’ hoofs have m ine’d it !

AURANTH E .

H e is a l ive ?CONRAD .

H e is ! but here make oathTo al ienate him from your schem ing bra in,

D ivorce him from your sol itary thoughts ,

[ACT 1 .

SCENE L ] OTH O TH E GREAT.

And cloud him in such utter banishment ,That when his person mee ts aga in your eye ,Your vis ion sha ll quite lose its memory ,And wander past him as through vacancy .

AURANTH E .

I’ll not be perjured .

CONRAD .

NO , nor great , nor m ighty ;You would not wear a crown , or rule a kingdom .

To you i t is indifferent .AURANTH E .

Wha t means this ?

CONRAD .

You’l l not be perjured ! Go to Albert then ,

Tha t camp-mushroom dishonour of our house .

Go , page his dus ty hee ls upon a march ,Furbish his j ingl ing ba ldric while he s leeps ,And share his mouldy rat ion in a s iege .

Yet stay , perhaps a charm may ca l l you back ,And make the widening c ircle ts of your eyesSparkle wi th healthy fevers .

— The Emperor

H ath g iven consent that you should marry Ludolph !

AURANTH E .

Can i t be , brother ? For a golden crown

With a queen’s awful l ips I doubly tha

fik you !

This is to wake in Paradise ! Farewe

Thou clod of yes terday ’twas not myse lf !Not til l this moment did I ever fee lMy spiri t’s faculties ! I ’l l fla tter youFor this , and be you ever proud of i t ;Thou , Jove - l ike , s truck

’dst thy forehead ,

And from the teem ing marrow of thy bra inI spring complete Minerva ! But the princeH is highness Ludolph— where is he ?

(93) I presume this line was left thus formless and incomplete by Keats.

4 57

458 OTI I‘

O TH E GREAT.

I know not

When , lackeying my counsel at a be ck ,The rebe l lords , on bended knees , rece ivedThe Emperor

’s pardon, Ludolph kept al oof,

Sole , in a s tiff , fool-hardy , sulky pride ;Yet , for a ll this , I never saw a fa therI n such a s ickly longing for his son .

We Shal l soon see him , for the Emperor

H e wil l be here this morning .

AURANTH E .

Tha t I heardAmong the midnight rumours from the camp .

CONRAD .

You give up Albert to me ?AURANTH E .

H arm him not !

E’en for his highness Ludolph’s sceptry hand ,I would not Albert suffer any wrong.

CoNRAD .

i t

H ave I not laboured , plotted

AURANTHE .

See you spare

Nor be pathetic , my kind benefactor ,On al l the many bounties of your hand,

’Twas for yourself you laboured not for me !Do you not count , when I am queen , to takeAdvantage of your chance discoveriesOf my poor secre ts , and so hold a rod

Over my l ife ?CONRAD .

Let not this slave —this vil lainBe cause of feud be tween us . See he comes !Look , woman, look , your Albert is qui te safe

460 OTH O TI I E GREAT. [ACT 1

CONRAD .

Your message , sir !

ALBERT .

You mean not this to me ?CONRAD .

S ister , this way ;For the re shall be no gentle Alberts now, [Aside .

No sweet Auranthes[Exeunt CONRAD a nd AURANTH E .

ALBERT (solus )The duke is out of temper ; if he knowsMore than a brother of a s ister ought ,I should not quarre l wi th his peevishness .

Auranthe H eaven preserve he r always fa ir !I s in the heady , proud , ambitious ve in ;I bicker not wi th her , — bid her farewe ll !She has taken flight from me , then le t her soar ,H e is a fool who stands a t pining ga ze !But for poor Ludolph , he is food for sorrowNo leve ll ing bluster of my licens’d thoughts ,No m i l i tary swagger of my m ind ,Can smother from myse lf the wrong I ’ve done him ,

Wi thout des ign , indeed , yet it is so ,

And opiate for the conscience have I none !

SCENE I I . The Cour t -ya rd of the Ca stle .

Ma r tia l M usic. Enter , f rom the outer ga te , OTHO , N obles ,and Attendants . The Soldier s ha lt a t the ga te, with

in sight .

OTHo .

Where is my noble hera ld ?Enter CONRAD , f rom the Castle, a ttended by two Knights and

S ervants . ALBERT f ol lowing .

Well , has t toldAuranthe our intent imperia l ?

Scam OTH O TH E GREAT. 46 1

Les t our rent banners , too 0’the sudden shown ,

Should fright her s i lken easements , and dismayH er household to our lack of enterta inment .A victory

CONRAD .

God save illustrious Otho !

OTH o .

Aye , Conrad , it wil l pluck out a ll grey hairs ;I t is the best phys ician for the spleen ;The courtl ies t inviter to a feas t ;The subtlest excuser of small faults ;And a ni ce judge in the age and smack of wine .

Enter , f rom the Ca stle, AURANTH E , followed by Pages up her

robes , and a train of Wom en . She kneel s.

H a i l my sweet hostess ! I do thank the stars ,Or my good soldiers , or their ladies’ eyes ,That , after such a merry battle fought ,I can , all safe in body and in soul ,Kiss your fa ir hand and lady fortune’s too.

My ring ! now, on my l ife , i t doth rejoi ceThese l ips to fee l ’t on this soft ivory !Keep i t , my brightes t daughter ; i t may proveThe l i ttle prologue to a l ine of kings .

I s trove aga inst thee and my hot-blood son ,

Dul l blockhead that I was to be so blind ,But now my s ight is clear ; forg ive me , lady.

AURANTH E .

My lord , I was a vassa l to your frown ,

And now your favour makes me but more humble ;I n wintry winds the s imple snow is safe ,

But fadeth at the greeting of the sun

Unto thine anger I m ight we l l have spoken,

Taking on me a woman’s privi lege ,

But this so sudden kindness makes me dumb .

462 OTH O TH E GREAT.

OTH O .

What need of this ? Enough , if you wi l l beA potent tutoress to my wayward boy,And teach him , what it seems his nurse could not ,To say, for once , I thank you . Sigifred !

ALBERT.

H e has not yet return’d , my gracious l iege .

OTH o .

What then No t idings of my friendly Arab ?

CONRAD .

None , mighty Otho.

(To .

Send forth instantlyAn hundred horsemen from my honoured gates ,To scour the pla ins and sea rch the cottages .

Cry a reward , to him who shal l firs t bringNews of tha t vanished Arabian,

A ful l -heap’d helme t of the pures t gold .

OTH O .

More thanks , dear Conrad ; for , e xcept my son’s ,

There is no face I ra ther would be holdThan that same quick-ey’d pagan’

s . By the saints ,This com ing night of banque ts mus t not l ightH er dazzl ing torches ; nor the mus i c brea theSmooth , wi thout clashing cymbal , tones of peaceAnd in-door me lodies ; nor the ruddy wineEbb

'

spouting to the lees ; if I pledge not ,I n my fir s t cup , that Arab

ALBERT .

Mighty Monarch ,

I wonder not this stranger’s victor-deedsSo hang upon your spiri t . Twi ce in the fightI t was my chance to mee t his Ol ive brow,

Triumphant in the enemy’s shatter’d rhomb ;

464 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT I .

OTH O .

And no news No news ! ’Fa i th ’tis very s trange

H e thus avoids us . Lady , is ’t not s trange ?Will he be truant to you too ? I t is a shame .

CONRAD .

Wil’t please your highness enter , and acceptThe unworthy we lcome of your servant’s house ?Leaving your cares to one whose di l igenceMay in few hours make pleasures of them all .

OTHo .

Not so tedious , Conrad . No , no , no ,

I mus t see Ludolph or the Wha t’s that shout ?

VO I CES WI THOUT.

H uzza ! huzza ! Long live the Emperor !

OTH ER VO I CES .

Fall back Away thereOTHO .

Say, wha t noise is that ?[ALBERT advancing f r om the back of the S tage ,

had ha stened on hea ring the cheer s of the soldiery .

ALBERT .

I t is young Gersa , the H ungar ian prince ,Pick

’d l ike a red s tag from the fa llow herd

Of prisoners . Poor prince , forlorn he s teps ,S low, and demure , and proud in his despair .

I f I may judge by his so tragi c bearing ,

H is eye not downcast , and his folded arm ,

H e doth this moment wish himse lf as leepAmong his fal len capta ins on you pla ins .

Enter GERSA, in chains , and guarded.

SCENE OTH O TH E GREAT.

OTHO .

We ll said , Sir Albert .GERSA.

Not a word of gree ting ,

No welcome to a prince ly vis i tor ,Most m ighty Otho ? Will not my great hos tVouchsafe a syllable , before he bidsHis gentlemen conduct me wi th all careTo some securest lodg ing cold perhaps !

OTHO .

What mood is this ? H ath fortune touch’d thy brain ?

GERSA .

O kings and princes of this fev’rous world ,What abject things , wha t mocker ies mus t ye be ,What nerve less m inions of safe pa laces !When here , a monarch , whose proud foot is usedTo fa llen princes’ necks , as to his st irrup ,

Must needs excla im that I am mad forsooth ,Because I cannot flatter wi th bent kneesMy conqueror !

OTHo .

Gersa , I think you wrong meI think I have a better fame abroad .

GERSA .

t prythee mock me not with gentle speech ,But , as a favour , bid me from thy presence ;Let me no longer be the wondering foodOf al l these eyes ; prythee command me hence

OTHo .

D o not mistake me , Gersa . Tha t you may not ,

Come , fa ir Auranthe , try if your soft handsCan manage those hard r ivets to set free

So brave a prince and soldier .


AURANTH E (sets him f r ee) .

We lcome task !GERSA .

I am wound up in deep astonishmént !Thank you ,

fa ir lady . Otho ! emperor !You rob me of yourself my dignityI s now your infant ; I am a weak child .

OTHo .

G ive me your hand , and let this kindly graspLive in our memories .

I n m ine i t will .I blush to think of my unchas ten

’d tongue ;

But I was haunted by the mons trous ghos tOf all our s la in batta l ions . S ire , reflect ,And pardon you wil l grant , that at this hour,The bruised remnants of our str I Cken campAre huddling undistinguish

’d my dear friends ,With common thousands , into sha llow graves .

OTH o .

Enough , most noble Gersa . You are free

TO cheer the brave remainder of your hos tBy your own hea l ing presence , and tha t too ,

Not as the ir leader mere ly , but the ir king ;For , as I hear , the wi ly enemy ,Who eas

’d the crowne t from your infant brows ,Bloody Taraxa , is among the dead .

GERSA .

Then I retire , so generous Othoplease ,Bearing wi th me a we ight of benefitsToo heavy to be borne .

OTHO.

I t is not so ;

Still understand me , King of H ungary,

[ACT 1 .

468 OTI I O TH E GREAT.

A show-monster about the streets of Prague ,I n cha ins , as just now s tood that noble princeAnd then to me no mercy had been shown,

For when the conquer’d l ion is once dungeon

’d,Who lets him forth aga in ? or dares to g iveAn old l ion sugar

-cakes of m ild reprieve ?Not to thine ear alone I make confess ion,

But to a ll here , as , bye xperience ,

I know how the grea t basement of all powerI s frankness , and a true tongue to the world ;And how intrigu ing secrecy is proofOf fear and weakness , and a hollow s ta te .

Conrad , I owe thee much .

CONRAD .

To kiss that hand,My emperor , is ample recompense ,For a mere act of duty .

OTHO .

Thou art wrongFor what can any man on earth do more ?We wi l l make tria l of your house’s we lcome ,My bright Auranthe

CONRAD .

H ow is Friedburg honoured !

Enter ETH ELBERT and six I

’

lfonks .

ETH ELBERT.

The benison of heaven on your head ,Imperia l Otho !

OTHO .

Who s tays me ? Speak ! Quick !

ETH ELBERT .

Pause but one moment , m ighty conqueror !Upon the threshold of this house of joy.

[Aer 1 .

SCENE OTH 0 TH E GREAT. 469

OTHO .

Pray , do not prose , good E thelbert , but speakWhat is your purpose .

ETH ELBERT .

The restora tion of some captive ma ids ,D evoted to H eaven’

s pious m inis tries ,Who , dr iven forth from the ir re l igious ce lls ,And kept in thra ldom by our enemy ,When late this province was a lawless spoi l ,S til l weep am id the wi ld H ungarian camp ,

Though hemm’d around by thy victor ious arms .

OTH o .

D emand the holy s is terhood in our name

From G ersa’s tents . Farewe ll , old E the lbert .

ETH ELBERT .

The saints wil l bless you for this pious care .

OTHo .

Daughter , your hand ; Ludolph’s would fit it best .

CONRAD .

H O let the mus i c sound

[Music. ETH ELBER'

I‘

r aises his hands , as in

OTH O . Exeunt severa lly .

‘The scene closes on them .

SCENE I I I . The Country , with the Cas tle in the distance.

Enter LUDOLPH and S I G I FRED .

LUDOLPH .

You have my secre t ; let i t not be breath’d .


S I G I FRED .

Stil l give me ' leave to wonder that the PrinceLudolph and the swift Arab are the same ;Stil l to rejoice that ’twas a G erman arm

D eath doing in a turban’d masquerade.

LUDOLPH .

The Emperor mus t not know it , Sigifred.

S I G I FRED .

I prythee , why? What happier hour of timeCould thy pleas ’d s tar point down upon from heavenWith silver index, bidding thee make peace ?

LUDOLPH .

S ti ll i t must not be known , good Sigifred ;The s tar may point oblique .

S I G I FRED .

If Otho knewH is son to be that unknown MussulmanAfter whose spurring hee ls he sent me forth ,With one of his we ll-pleas’d Olympian oaths ,The charters of man’s greatness , a t this hourH e would be watching round the cas tle wal ls ,And , l ike an anx ious warder , stra in his s ightFor the firs t gl impse of such a son return

’d

Ludolph , that blast of the H unga rians ,That Saraceni c meteor of the fight ,That s i lent fury , Whose fel l scymitarKept danger a ll a loof from Otho’

s head ,And left him space for wonder.

LUDOLPH .

Say no more .

Not as a swordsman would I pardon clznm ,

But as a son . The bronz’d centurion ,

Long toil’d in fore ign wars , and whose high deeds

Are shaded in a fores t of tal l spears ,

[ACT I .

4 7 2 OTH O TH E GREAT.

I s not the only proud heart in his realm .

H e hath wrong’d me , and I have done him wrong ;H e ha th lov’d me , and I have shown him kindness ;We should be almost equa l .

S I G I FRED .

Yet , for all this ,I would you had appear

’d among those lords ,And ta ’

en his favour .

LUDOLPH .

H a ! til l now I thoughtMy fr iend had held poor Ludolph’s honour dear .

What ! would you have me sue before his throneAnd kiss the court ier’s missa l , its s i lk s teps ?Or hug the golden hous ings of his steed ,Am id a camp , whose s tee led swarms I dar’dBut yesterday ? And , at the trumpe t sound ,Bow l ike some unknown mercenary’s flag ,

And l i ck the soiled grass ? No , no , my friend ,I would not , I , be pardon’d in the heap ,

And bless indemnity wi th al l that scum ,

Those men I mean, who on my shoulders propp’dThe ir weak rebell ion , winning me wi th lies ,And pi tying forsooth my many wrongs ;Poor se lf-dece ived wre tches , who mus t thinkEach one himself a king in embryo ,

Because some dozen vassa ls cry’d my lord !

Cowards , who never knew the ir l i ttle hearts ,T il l flurried danger he ld the m irror up ,

And then they own’d themselves wi thout a blush ,Curl ing , l ike spaniels , round my father’s fee t .Such things deserted me and are forgiven ,

While I , leas t gui lty , am an outcas t st i ll ,And will be , for I love such fa ir disgrace .

S I G I FRED .

I know the clear truth ; so would Otho see ,

For he is jus t and noble . Fa in would IBe pleader for you

LUDOLPH .

H e’l l hear none of it ;

You know his temper, hot , proud , obs t inate ;

[ACT 1 .


Endanger not yourself so uselessly .

I will encounter his thwart spleen myself,To-day, at the D uke Conrad’s , Where he keepsH is crowded s tate after the victory .

There wi l l I be , a mos t unwel come guest ,And parley with him , as a son should do,Who doubly loathes a father’s tyranny ;Tel l him how feeble is tha t tyranny ;H ow the relationship of father and son

I s no more val id than a s i lken leashWhere l ions tug adverse , if love grow not

From interchanged love through many years .

Aye , and those turreted Franconian wal ls ,Like to a jea lous casket , hold my pearlMy fa ir Auranthe Yes , I wi l l be there .

S I G I FRED .

Be not so rash ; wa i t ti ll his wrath shall pass ,Until his roya l spiri t softly ebbsSelf-influenced ; then , in his morning dreamsH e wi l l forgive thee , and awake in griefTo have not thy good morrow.

LUDOLPH .

Yes , to-dayI must be there , while her young pulses beatAmong the new-

plum’d m inions of the war .

H ave you seen her of late ? No ? Auranthe ,Franconia

’s fa ir s is ter , ’

tis I mean .

She should be pa ler for my troublous daysAnd there i t is— my father’s iron l ipsH ave sworn divorcement ’twi x t me and my right .

S I GI FRED (aside) .

Auranthe I had hop’d this whim had pass

’d.

LUDOLPH .

And , Sigifred, wi th all his love of justice ,When wil l he take tha t grandchild in his arms ,That , by my love I swear , shall soon be his ?This reconcilement is imposs ible ,For see but who are these ?

4 7 3

4 7 4 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT 1 1 .

S I G I FRED .

They are messengersFrom our grea t emperor ; to you , I doubt not ,For couriers ar e abroad to seek you out .

Enter TH EODORE and GONFRED .

TH EODORE .

See ing so many vigilant eyes e xploreThe province to invite your highness backTo your high digni ties , we are too happy.

GONFRED .

We have no e loquence to colour jus tlyThe emperor

’s anxious wishes .

Go . I follow you .

[E reunt TH EODORE and GONFRED .

I play the prude : it is but ventur ing 1 30Why should he be so earnest ? Come , my friend ,Let us to Friedburg cas tle .

ACT I I .

SCENE I .- An Ante-chamber in the Castle.

Enter LUDOLPH and S I G I FRED .

LUDOLPH .

No more advices , no more cautioning ;I leave i t al l to fa te to any thing !I cannot square my conduct to time , place ,Or circums tance ; to me ’

tis all a m ist

S I G I FRED .

I say nomore .

4 7 6 OTH O TI I E GREAT.

CONRAD .

Princely Ludolph , hail !We lcome , thou younger sceptre to the realmS trength to thy virgin crownet’s golden buds ,That they , aga inst the winter of thy s ire ,May burs t , and swe ll , and flourish round thy brows ,

Maturing to a we ighty diademYet be that hour far off ; and may he l i ve ,

Who wa its for thee , as the chapp’d earth for ra in.

Se t my l ife’s s tar ! I have l ived long enough ,S ince under my glad roof, propi tious ly ,Fa ther and son each other t e -

possess .

LUDOLPH .

Fine wording , Duke but words could never yetForestall the fa tes ; have you not learnt tha t yet ?Let me look we l l : your features are the same ;Your ga i t the same ; your ha ir of the same shade ;As one I knew some pas sed weeks ago,

Who sung far diffe rent notes into m ine ears .

I have mine own part icu lar comments on ’t ;

You have your own , perhaps .

CONRAD .

My gracious Prince.All men may err . I n truth I was dece ivedI n your grea t father’s na ture , as you were .

H ad I known tha t of him I have s ince known ,

And wha t you soon wil l learn , I would have turu’dMy sword to my own throat , ra ther than he ldI ts threatening edge aga inst a good King’s quie tOr with one word fever’d you , gentle Prince ,Who seem

’d to me , as rugged times then went ,

Indeed too much oppress’d . May I be boldTo tell the Emperor you wil l has te to him ?

LUDOLPH .

Your Dukedom’s privilege wil l grant so much .

H e’s very close to Otho , a tight leech

Your hand—I go. H a ! here the thunder comes

[ACT 1 1.

SCENE 1 1] OTH 0 TH E GREAT 4 7 7

Sullen aga inst the wind I f in two angry browsMy safe ty lies , then Sigifred , I

’m safe .

Enter OTH o and CONRAD .

OTH o .

Will you make T i tan play the lackey-pageTo chattering p igm ies ? I would have you knowThat such neglect of our high MajestyAnnuls all feel of kindred . What is son ,

Or °friend , or brother , or all ties of blood ,When the whole kingdom , centred in ourse lf,I s rudely s l ighted ? Who am I to wa i t ?By Peter’s chair ! I have upon my tongueA word to fright the proudes t spiri t here !D ea th and s low tortures to the hardy fool ,Who dares take such large charter from our sm iles !Conrad , we would be private . Sigifred !

Off ! And none pass this way on pa in of death ![Exeunt CONRAD and S I G I FRED .

LUDOLPH .

This was but half expected , my good sire ,Yet I am griev

’d at i t , to the fu l l he ight ,As though my hopes of favour had been whole .

OTHO .

H ow you indulge yourself ! What can you hope for ?LUDOLPH .

Nothing , my l iege ; I have to hope for nothing .

I come to gree t you as a loving son ,

And then depart , if I may be so free ,See ing that blood of yours in my warm veinsH as not yet m itigated into m i lk .

OTHO .

What would you, sir ?

LUDOLPH .

A lenient banishment ;So please you let me unmolested pass


This Conrad’s gates , to the wide air aga in.

I want no more . A rebe l wants no more.

OTHo .

And shal l I let a rebe l loose aga inTo mus ter kites and eagles ’

gainst my head ?No , obs tinate boy, you sha l l be kept cag’d up ,

Serv’d with harsh food , with scum for Sunday-drink.

LUDOLPH .

IndeedOTHO .

And chains too heavy for your l ife :I ’l l choose a gaoler , whose swa rt monstrous faceShal l be a hel l to look upon , and she

LuDOLPH .

OTHo .

Shall be your fair Auranthe .

LUDOLPH .

Amaz e ! Amaze !

OTHO.

To day you marry her.LUDOLPH .

This is a sharp jes t !

OTHo .

No. None at all . When have I said a lie ?

LUDOLPH .

I f I sleep not , I am a waking wre tch .

OTHO .

Not a word more . Let me embrace my child.

[ACT


Ludolph , I will ! I will !But , Ludolph , ere you go , I would enquireI f you , in all your wandering , ever metA certa in Arab hunting in these parts .

LUDOLPH .

No, my good lord , I cannot say I d id .

OTHo .

Make not your father bl ind before his time ;Nor le t these arms paternal hunger moreFor an embrace , to dul l the appeti teOf my great love for thee , my supreme child !Come close , and let me breathe into thine ear .

I knew you through disguise . You are the Arab !You can’t deny it .

LUDOLPH .

H appies t of days !

OTHO .

We’ll make it so.

LUDOLPH .

’Stead of one fatted ca lfTen hecatombs Shal l be llow out the ir las t ,Smote ’twixt the horns by the death - stunning maceOf Mars , and al l the soldiery sha ll feastNobly as Nimrod’s masons , when the towersOf N ineveh new kiss’d the parted clouds

OTHo .

Large as a God speak out , where all is thine .

LUDOLPH .

Aye , fa ther , but the fire in my sad breas tI s quench

’d with inward tears I must rejoice

For you, whose wings so shadow over me

[ACT 1 5

SCENE OTH O TH E GREAT. 4 8 1

I n tender victory , but for myselfI s t il l mus t mourn . The fair Auranthe mine !Too grea t a boon ! I prythee let me ask

What more than I know of could so have changedYour purpose touching her ?

OTHo.

At a word , thisI n no deed did you give me more offencesThan your rejection of Erm inia .

To my appall ing , I saw too good proofOf your keen-ey

’d susp i cion , she is naught

LUDOLPH .

You are convinc’d.

OTHO .

Aye , spite of her sweet looks .

0, tha t my brother’s daughter should so fall !H er fame has pass

’d into the grosser l ipsOf soldiers in their cups .

OTHo .

N0 more of her . .Auranthe Ludolph , come !This marriage be the bond of endless peace !

SCENE I I . The Entrance of GERSA’S Tent in the H unga rian Camp.

Enter ERM I NI A.

ERM I N I A .

Where ! where ! where shal l I find a messenger ?A trus ty soul ? A good man in the camp ?Shal l I go myse lf Mons trous wickedness !O cursed Conrad devilish Auranthe !

4 82_OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT 1 1 .

H ere is proof palpable as the bright sun !0 for a voice to reach the Emperor’s ears !

[Shouts in the Corny.

Enter an H UNGAR IAN CAPTAI N .

Fair prisoner, you hear these joyous shouts ?The king— aye , now our king , but s till your s lave ,Young G ersa , from a short captivityH as just re turn’d . H e bids me Say, bright dame ,That even the homage of his ranged chiefsCures not his keen impatience to beholdSuch beauty once again . What ail s you, lady?

ERM I NI A.

Say, is not that a German, yonder ? There !CAPTAI N.

Methinks by his stout bearing he should beYes— it is Albert ; a brave Ge rman knight ,And much in the emperor

’s favour .

ERMI NI A

I woul d fainEnquire of friends and kinsfolk ; how they faredI n these rough times . Brave soldier , as you passTo royal Gersa wi th my humble thanks ,Wil l you send yonder knight to me ?

CAPTAI N

ERMI NI A.

Yes , he was ever known to be a man

Frank , open , generous ; Albert I may trus t .0 proof ! proof ! proof ! Albert’s an hones t man ;Not E thelbert the monk , if he were here ,Would I hold more trustworthy . Now !

Good Gods !

Lady Erm inia ! are you prisoner

4 84 OTH 0 TH E GREAT. [ACT 1 1 .

Possible Easy . 0 my heart !

This letter’s not so soil’d but you may read it ;

Possible ! There—that letter ! Read—read it .

[Gives him a letter .

ALBERT ( r eading) .

f o the Duke Conrad — Forget the threa t youmade at parting, and I wi ll forge t to send the Emperor letters and papers of your '

s I have becomepossessed of. His l ife is no trifle to me ; his dea thyou sh all find none to yourself.” (Speaks to him

self : )’Tis me - my life that’s pleaded for ! (Reads .)

“ H e , for his own sake , wil l be dumb as the grave .

Errninia has my shame fix’d upon her , sure as a wen .

We are safe . AURANTH E .

”

A she-devil ! A dragon ! I her imp !Fire of H e ll Auranthe lewd demon !Where got you this ? Where ? When ?

ERM I NI A.

I found it in the tent , among some spoilsWhich , be ing noble , fel l to Gersa’s lot .Come in , and see . [M gv in and r eturn .

ALBERT .

Villainy ! Villainy !Conrad’s sword , his cors let , and his helm ,

And his le tter . Caitiff , he shal l fee lERM I NI A.

I see you are thunderstruck . H as te , has te away !ALBERT.

O I am tortured by this villainy .ERM I NI A.

You needs mus t be . Carry it swift to Otho ;Te ll him , moreover, I am prisoner

H ere in this camp , where all the s is terhood ,

Forc’d from the ir qu ie t ce lls , are parcell’d out

For slaves among these H uns . Away ! Away !

SCENE OTH 0 TH E GREAT.

ALBERT .

I am gone .

ERM I NI A.

Swift be your s teed ! Within this hourThe Emperor will see i t .

ALBERT .

Ere I s leepTha t I can swear.

GERSA (without) .

Brave captains ! thanks . Enough

Of loya l homage now !Enter GERSA.

ERM I NI A.

H ail , royal H unGERSA .

What means th is , fair one ? Why in such al arm ?Who was i t hurried by me so distract ?I t seem’d you were in deep discourse together ;Your doctrine has not been so harsh to himAs to my poor deserts . Come , come , be pla in.

I am no jea lous fool to kill you both , ’1Or , for such trifles , rob th’ adorned worldOf such a beauteous vestal .

ERM I NI A .

I grieve , my Lord,'

1 0 hear you condescend to ribald-phrase .

GERSA .

This is too much ! H earken, my lady pure !ERM I NI A .

S i lence and hear the mag ic of a name

Erm inia ! I am she , the Emperor’s niece !

Prais’d be the H eavens , I now dare own myself !

4 86 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT 1 1.

GERSA.

Erminia ! Indeed ! I ’ve heard of her .

Prythee , fa ir lady , what chance brought you here ?

ERMI N IA .

Ask your own soldiers .

GERSA.

And you dare own your name .

For love l iness you may—and for the res tMy ve in is not censorious .

ERM I NI A .

Alas ! poor me !’Tis false indeed .

GERSA.

Indeed you are too fairThe swan, soft leaning on her fledgy breas t ,When to the s tream she launches , looks not

With such a tender grace ; nor are her wings

80 white as your soul is , if tha t but beTwin pi cture to your face . Erminia !To-day, for the firs t day, I am a king ,

Yet would I give my unworn crown awayTo know you spotless .

ERM I NI A.

Trust me one day more ,Generously , without more certain guarantee ,Than this poor face you de ign to praise so much ;After that , say and do Whate’er you please .

I f I have any knowledge of you , sir ,I think , nay I am sure , you wil l grieve muchTo hear my story . 0 be gentle to me ,For I am s i ck and fa int with many wrongs ,Tir

’d out , and weary-wo'

rn wi th contumelies .

Poor lady!

4 88 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT I I I .

ERM I N IA .

I have good news to te ll you , E the lbert .

GERSA.

H o ! ho, there ! Guards !Your bless ing , father ! Sweet Erminia,Be lieve me , I am we ll nigh sure

ERM I NIA .

Farewe llShort time wi ll Show.

Yes , father E the lbert ,I have news precious as we pass along .

ETH ELBERT.

D ear daughter , you shall guide me .

ERM I N IA .

To no ill .

GERSA .

Command an escort to the Friedburg lines .

[ExeuntPray let me lead . Fa ir lady , forget notGersa , how he be liev

’d you innocent .I follow you to Friedburg wi th all speed .

ACT I I I .SCENE I . The Country.

Enter ALBERT.

ALBERT .

0 that the earth were empty , as when CainH ad no perp le x ity to hide his headOr that the sword of some brave enemyH ad put a sudden s top to my hot breath ,And hurl’d me down the il lim i table gulph


Of t imes pas t , unremember’d ! Better soThan thus fast- l imed in a cursed snare ,

The white l imbs of a wanton . This the end

Of an asp iring l ife ! My boyhood pastI n feud with wolves and bears , when no eye saw

The sol i tary warfare , fought for loveOf honour ’mid the growl ing Wi lderness .

My sturdier youth , ma turing to the sword ,Won by the syren- trumpe ts , and the’

r ingOf shie lds upon the pavement , when bright-mail’d

H enry the Fowler pass’d the s treets , of Prague .

Was’t to this end I louted and became

The menia l of Mars , and he ld a spear

Sway’d by command , as corn is by the wind ?

I S i t for this , I now am l ifted upBy Europe

’s throned Emperor , to see

My honour be my e xecutioner ,My love of fame , my prided hones tyPut to the torture for confess ional ?Then the damn’d crime of blurt ing to the worldA woman

’s secre t Though a fiend she be ,

Too tender of my ignom inious l ife ;But then to wrong the generous EmperorI n such a searching point , were to g ive upMy soul for foot-ba ll a t H e l l’s hol iday !I mus t confess , and cut my throat , - to-day?

To-morrow? H o some wine

Enter S I G IFRED .

S I G I FRED .

A fine humourALBERT .

Who goes there ? Count Sigifred ? H a ! H a !

S I G I FRED .

Wha t , man , do you m istake the hollow skyFor a throng

’d tavern , and these stubbed treesFor old serge hangings , me , your humble friend ,For a poor wa i ter ? Why , man , how you s tare !What gips ies have you been carous ing with ?No, no more

'

wine ; methinks you’ve had enough .

4 9 0 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT 1 1 1

ALBERT.

You may we ll laugh and banter . What a foolAn injury may make of a s ta id manYou shal l know all anon.

S I G I FRED .

Some tavern brawl ?

ALBERT.

’Twas with some people out of common reach ;Revenge is difficult .

S I G I FRED .

I am your friend ;We mee t aga in tod ay , and can conferUpon i t . For the present I ’m in has te .

ALBERT.

Whither ?S I G I FRED .

To fetch King Gersa to the feast .The Emperor on this marriage is so hot ,Pray H eaven i t end not in apople xyThe very porters , as I pass’d the doors ,H eard his loud laugh , and answer

’d in full choir.

I marve l , Albert , you de lay so longFrom these bright reve lries ; go, Show yourse lf,You may be made a duke .

ALBERT .

Aye , very l ikePray , what day has his H ighness fix’

d upon ?

S I G I FRED .

For what ?ALBERT.

The marriage . What else can I mean ?

4 9 2 OTH O TH E GREAT. [Acr

And I , my liege , by far.

LUDOLPH .

Auranthe ! I have ! 0, my bride , my love !Not all the gaze upon us can restra inMy eyes , too long poor e x iles from thy fa ce ,From adora tion , and my foolish tongueFrom uttering soft responses to the loveI see in thy mute beauty beam ing forth !Fa ir creature , bless me with a single word !All mine

AURANTH E .

Spare , spare me , my Lord ; I swoon else .

LUDOLPH .

Soft beauty ! by to-morrow I should die ,Wert thou not mine . [They talk apar t .

F I RST LADY.

H ow deep she has bewitch’d him

F I RST KNI GHT .

Ask you for her recipe for love phil tres .

SECOND LADY .

They hold the Emperor in admira tion.

OTHO .

I f ever king was happy , that am IWhat are the cities ’yond the Alps to me ,The provinces about the D anube’s mouth ,The prom ise of fair sail beyond the Rhone ;Or routing out of H ype rborean hordes ,To these fa ir children , s ta rs of a new age ?

Unless pe rchance I m ight rejoice to winThis l i tt le bal l of earth , and chuck i t themTo play with

AURANTH E .

Nay, my Lord , I do not know.

OTH O TH E GREAT.

LUDOLPH .

Let me not famish .OTHO (to Conrad) .

Good Francon ia ,

You heard what oath I sware , as the sun rose ,

Tha t unless H eaven would send me back my son,

My Arab , no soft mus ic should enri chThe cool wine , kiss’d off wi th a soldier’s smack ;Now all my empire , barter’d for one feast ,Seems poverty .

CONRAD

Upon the ne ighbour-plainThe heralds have prepar’d a roya l l is ts ;Your knights , found war-proof in the bloody field,Speed to the game .

OTH O .

Wel l , Ludolph , what sayyou ?LUDOLPH .

My lord !OTHO .

A tourney ?CONRAD .

Or , if’t please you best

LUDOLPH .

I want no more !F I RST LAD Y.

H e soars

SECOND LAD Y .

Pas t all reason.

LUDOLPH .

Though heaven’s choirShould in a vas t circumference descendAnd s ing for my de l ight , I ’d s top my ears

Though br ight Apollo’s car s tood burn ing here ,


And he put out his arm to bid me mount ,H is touch an immortal i ty , not I 1This earth , this palace , this room , Auranthe !

OTHO.

This is a little painful ; just too much.

Conrad , if he flames longer in this wise ,

I shall bel ieve in wizard-woven lovesAnd old romances ; but I

’ll break the spell .Ludolph !

CONRAD .

H e’ll be calm, anon.

LUDOLPH .

You call’d ?

Yes , yes , yes , I offend . You must forgive me ;Not be ing qui te recover

’d from the s tunOf your large bounties . A tourney , is it not ?

[A senet

CONRAD.

The trumpe ts reach us .

ETH ELBERT

On your peril , sirs ,D etain us !

FI RST VO I CE (without) .

Let not the abbot pass .

SECOND VOI CE (without ) .

No,On your lives !

F IRST VOI CE (without) .H oly father , you must not .

ETH ELBERT (without ) .Otho

OTHO.

Who calls on Otho ?

4 96 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT m .

ETH ELBERT .

Bes t ask your lady s ister,Whe ther the riddle puzzles her beyondThe power of utterance .

CONRAD .

Foul barbarian, cease ;

The Princess faints !LUDOLPH .

S tab him ! 0, swee test wife ![Attendants hea r of AURANTH E .

ERM I NI A .

AlasETH ELBERT.

Your wife ?LUDOLPH .

Aye , Satan ! does tha t yerk ye ?ETH ELBERT.

Wife so soon

LUDOLPH .

Aye , wife ! Oh , impudenoe !

Thou bitter m ischief ! Venomous bad pries t !H ow dar’s t thou l ift those bee tle brows at me ?

Me —the pr ince Ludolph , in this presence here ,Upon my marriage -day, and scandal i zeMy joys wi th such opprobrious surprise ?Wife Why dos t l inger on that syllable ,As if i t were some demon

’s name pronounc

’d

To summon harmful l ightning , and make yawnThe Sleepy thunder H as t no sense of fear ?

N0 ounce of man in thy mortal ity ?Tremble ! for , at my nod , the sharpen

’d axe

Will make thy bold tongue quiver to the roots ,

Those grey lids wink , and thou not know i t , monk !ETH ELBERT.

0 , poor dece ived Prince ! I p i ty thee !Great Otho ! I cla im justice

SCENE I L] 0TH 0 TH E GREAT.

LUDOLPH .

Thou shal t hav ’t

Thine arms from forth a pulpi t of hot fireShal l sprawl distracted ? 0 that that dull cowlWere some mos t sens i t ive port ion of thy l ife ,That I m ight g ive i t to my 'hounds to tear !Thy girdle some fine zealous-pa ined nerveTo girth my saddle ! And those devi l’s beadsEach one a l ife , tha t I m ight , every day,Crush one wi th Vulcan’s hammer !

OTHO .

Peace , my son ;You far outstrip my spleen in this affa ir.

Let us be ca lm , and hear the abbot’s pleaFor this intrus ion.

LUDOLPH .

I am silent , s ire .

OTHO .

Conrad , see all depart not wanted here .

[E xeuntLudolph , be ca lm . E the lbert , peace awhile .

This mys tery demands an audienceOf a jus t judge , and that wi ll Otho be .

LUDOLPH .

Why has b e time to breathe another word ?OTH O .

Ludolph , old E the lbert , be sure , comes not

To beard us for no cause ; he’s not the manTo cry himse lf up an ambassadorWithout credential s .

LUDOLPH .

I ’ll Cha in up myself.OTHO .

Old abbot , stand here forth . Lady Erminia ,Sit . And now, abbot ! what have you to say?

49 7


Our ear is open . Firs t we here denounceH ard pena lt ies aga ins t thee , if

’t be found

The cause for which you have disturb’d us here ,Making our bright hours muddy , be a thingOf l i ttle moment .

ETH ELBERT.

See this innocent !Otho thou fa ther of the people call

’d ,

I s her l ife nothing H er fa ir honour nothing ?H er tears from mat ins unti l even-songNothing ? H er burs t heart nothing ? Emperor !

I s this your gent le niece — the s imp les t flowerOf the world’s he rba l th is fa ir l i l ly b lanch’dS t il l with the dews of p iety , this meek ladyH ere s itting l ike an ange l newly- shent ,I Vho ve ils its snowy wings and grows all pd e ,I s she noth ing ?

OTI—I O .

What more to the purpose , abbot ?LUDOLPH .

Whither is he winding ?

ETH ELBERT .

You have heard , my Liege , and so , no doubt , all here ,Foul , po isonous , mal ignant whisperings ;Nay open speech , rude mockery grown common,

Aga ins t the spot less nature and clear fame

Of the princess Erm inia , your n iece .

I have intruded here thus suddenly ,Because I hold those base weeds , wi th t ight hand,Which now disfigure her fa ir growing stem ,

Wa it ing but for your s ign to pul l them upBy the dark roots , and leave her palpable ,To al l men

’s S ight , a lady innocent .

The ignom iny of that whispe r’d ta leAbout a m idnight ga llant , seen to cl imbA window to her chamber neighbour’d near ,

I will from her turn off , and put the loadOn the right shoulders ; on tha t wretch’s head ,

[Ae r I I I .


OTHO .

Confess , or by the whee lETH ELBERT .

My evidence cannot be far away ;And ,

though i t never come , be on my headThe crime of pas s ing an a ttaint uponThe S landerers of this virgin .

LUDOLPH .

Speak aloud !ETH ELBERT.

Auranthe , and her brother there .

CONRAD .

Amu e

Throw them from the windowsOTHO .

D o what you wil l !LUDOLPH .

What shall I do wi th them ?Something of qui ck dispa tch , for should she hear,My soft Auranthe , her swee t mercy wouldPreva i l aga inst my fury . Damned pries t !What swift death wi l t thou die ? AS to the ladyI touch her not .

ETH ELBERT.

I llustrious Otho , s tay !An ample store of m isery thou has t ,Choak not the granary of thy noble m indWith more bad bitter gra in , too difficul tA cud for the repentance of a man

G rey-growing . To thee only I appeal ,Not to thy noble son whose yeas t ing youthWil l clear i tself, and crys ta l turn again.

[ACT-I I I .

SCENE OTH 0 TH E GREAT

A young man’s heart , by H eaven’s bless ing, is

A wide world , where a thousand new-born hopesEmpurple fresh the me lancholy bloodBut an old man’s is narrow, tenantlessOf hopes , and s tuff ’d wi th many memories ,Which , be ing pleasant , ease the heavy pulsePa inful , clog up and s tagnate . We igh th is matterEven as a m iser ba lances his coin ;And , in the name of mercy , give commandThat your knight Albert be brought here before you.

H e wi l l e xpound this r iddle ; he wil l ShowA noon-day proof of bad Auranthe’s guil t .

OTHO .

Let Albert s traight be summon’d .

LUDOLPH .

Imposs ibleI cannot doubt— I wi l l not— no— to doubtI s to be ashes !—wither’d up to death !

OTH O .

My gentle Ludolph , harbour not a fear ;You do yourse lf much wrong .

LUDOLPH .

O , wre tched dolt !Now, when my foot is a lmos t on thy neck ,Wilt thou infuriate me ? Proof ! Thou foolWhy wi l t thou teaze impossibil i tyWith such a thick-skul l’d persevering suit ?Fanatic obstinacy Prodigy !Monster of folly ! Ghost of a turn’d brainYou puzzle m e , you haunt me , when I dreamOf you my bra in wil l split ! Bold sorcererJuggler ! May I com e near you ? On my SoulI know not whether to pity , curse , or laugh .

Enter ALBERT, and the N ohleman.

H ere , Al bert , this old phantom wants a proof !Give him his proof ! A came l’s load of proofs

2 OTH O TH E GREAT.

OTH O.

Albert , I speak to you as to a man

Whose words once utter’d pass l ike current gold ;

And therefore fit to calm ly put a closeTo this brief tempes t . Do you s tand possess’dOf any proof aga inst the honourablenessOf Lady Auranthe , our new-spoused daughter ?

ALBERT .

You chil l me with as tonishment . H ow’s this ?

My Liege , what proof should I have ’

gains t a fameImposs ible of s lur ?ERM INIA .

O wickedness

ETH ELBERT.

D e luded monarch , ’tis a cruel lie .

OTHO .

Peace , rebel-priestCONRAD .

Insul t beyond credenceERM INIA.

Almos t a dream !LUDOLPH .

We have awaked fromA fool ish dream that from my brow hath wrungA wrathful dew. O folly ! why did ISo act the l ion wi th this s i lly gna t ?Let them depar t . Lady Erm inia !I ever griev’d for you , as who did not ?But now you have , wi th such a brazen front ,So mos t mal icious ly , so madl y s trivenTo dazzle the soft moon , when tenderest CloudsShoul d be unloop

’d around to curta in her ;I leave you to the desert of the worldAlmost wi th pleasure . Let them be set freeFor me ! I take no personal revenge

[Acr I I I .

504 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT m .

ERM I NI A .

We ll , I give up , and save my prayers for H eaven !You , who cou ld do this deed , would ne’er re lent ,Though , a t my words , the hol low prison-vaul tsWould groan for pity .

CONRAD .

Manacle them both

ETH ELBERT .

I know it i t mus t be— I see i t all !Albert , thou art the m inion !

ERM I NI A .

Ah too plainCONRAD .

S i lence ! Gag up their mouths I cannot bearMore of th is brawl ing . That the EmperorH ad plac

’d you in some other custody !Bring them away . [Exeunt a ll but ALBERT .

ALBERT .

Though my name perish from the book of honour ,Almos t before the recent ink is dry,And be no more remember

’d after death ,

Than any drummer’s in the mus ter- roll ;Yet shall I season high my sudden fal lWith triumph o’er tha t evil-wi tted duke !H e sha l l fee l what it is to have the handOf a man drowning , on his hatefu l throat .

Enter GERSA and S I G I FRED .

GERSA .

What discord is at ferment in this house ?

S I G I FRED .

We are wi thout conjecture ; not a soul

We met could answer any certainty .

SCENE I L]'

OTH O TH E GREAT. 505

GERSA .

Young Ludolph , like a fiery arrow, shotBy

S I G I FRED .

The Emperor , wi th cross’d arms , in thought .

GERSA .

I n one room mus ic , in another sadness ,Perplex i ty every where !

ALBERT.

A trifle more !Follow ; your presences wi l l much ava i lTo tune our jarred spirits . I ’ll explain .

ACT IV.

SCENE I . AURANTH E’S Apa r tment .

AURANTH E a nd CONRAD discover ed .

CONRAD .

We ll , we ll , I know what ugly jeopardyWe are caged in ; you need not pester thatInto my ears . Prythee , let me be sparedA fool ish tongue , that I may be think me

Of remedies wi th some del iberat ion .

You cannot doubt but ’tis in Albert’s power

To crush or Save us ?

AURANTH E .

No , I cannot doubt .H e has , assure yourse lf, by some strange means ,My secre t ; which I ever h id from him ,

Knowing his mawkish honesty .

CONRAD

Cursed slave !

506 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT I V.

AURANTH E .

Ay, I could almos t curse him now myse l f.Wretched impediment ! Evil genius !A glue upon my wings , that cannot spread ,When they Should span the provinces ! A snake ,A scorp ion , sprawl ing on the first gold s tep ,

Conducting to the throne , high canopied .

CONRAD .

You would not hear my counse l , when his l ifeM ight have been trodden out , all sure and hush’d ;Now the dull anima l forsooth mus t beIntreated , managed ! When can you contriveThe interview he demands ?

AURANTHE .

As speedilyI t must be done as my brib’d woman can

Unseen conduct him to me ; but I fear’Twi ll be imposs ible , while the broad dayComes through the panes with perse cuting glare .

Methinks , if ’t now were night I could intrigueWith darkness , bring the stars to second me ,And set tle al l this trouble .

CONRAD .

Nonsense ! Child !See him immediate ly ; why not now ?

AURANTH E .

D o you forget that even the sense less door-pos tsAre on the watch and gape through a ll the house ?H ow many whisperers there are about ,H ungry for evidence to ruin me ;

Men I have spurn’d , and women I have taunted ?

Bes ides , the fool ish prince sends , m inute whiles ,H is pages

— so they te l l me to enquireAfter my health , entreating , if I please ,To see me .

508 OTH O TH E GREAT. I’

ACT m

CONRAD .

Would you were both hears’d up in stifl ing lead !D e tes ted

AURANTH E .

Conrad , hold I woul d not bearThe l i ttle thunder of your fre tful tongue ,Tho

’ I a lone were taken in these toi ls ,And you could free me ; but remember , sir ,You l ive alone in my securi ty :So keep your wi ts at work , for your own sake,Not mine , and be more manner ly .

CONRAD .

Thou wasp !I f my doma ins were emptied of these folk ,And I had thee to starve

AURANTHE .

O , marve llous !But Conrad , now be gone ; the H os t is look’dCringe to the Emperor , enterta in the Lords ,And , do ye mind , above all things , procla imMy s ickness , wi th a brother’s sadden’d eye ,Condoling with Prince Ludolph . I n fit timeReturn to me .

CONRAD .

I leave you to your thoughts .

AURANTH E (sola )D own , down , proud temper ! down, Auranthe

’s pride !Why do I anger him when I should knee l ?

Conrad ! Albert ! help ! help ! Wha t can I do ?0 wre tched woman los t , wreck’d , swal low

’d up ,

Accursed , blas ted ! O , thou golden Crown,

Orbing a long the serene firmament

Of a wide empire , l ike a glowing moon ;And thou , bright sceptre . lus trous I n my eyes ,There - as the fabled fa ir H esperian tree ,Bearing a frui t more prec ious graceful thing ,De l i ca te , godlike , magic ! mus t I leave

SCENE I 0TH 0 TH E GREAT. 509

Thee to melt in the vis ionary air ,Ere , by one grasp , this common hand is madeImperial ? I do not know the time

When I have wept for sorrow; but meth inksI could now sit upon the ground , and shedTears , tears of m isery . O , the heavy

‘

day !

H ow sha ll I bear my l ife till Albert comes ?Ludolph E rm in ia ! Proofs 0 heavy day !Bring m e some mourning weeds , that I may

’t ire

Myse lf, as fits one wa i ling her own deathCut off these curls , and brand this l i lly hand ,And throw these jewe ls from my loathing s ight ,Fe tch m e a m issa l , and a string of beads ,A cup of bitter

’d wa ter , and a crus t ,

I wi l l confess , O holy Abbot H ow !

What is this ? Auranthe ! thou fool , dolt ,Whimpering idiot ! up ! up ! and que l l !I am safe ! Coward ! why am I in fear ?Albert ! he cannot s t ick le , chew the cud

I n such a fine e x treme ,— imposs ible

Who knocks ? I O5

[Goes to the D oor ,listens , and opens it .

Enter ALBERT .

Albert , I have been wa it ing for you hereWith such an aching heart , such swooning throbsOn my poor bra in , such crue l e crue l sorrow,

That I should cla im your pi ty ! Art not we l l ?

Yes , lady, we ll .AURANTH E .

You look not so , a las !But. Da le , as if you brought some heavy news .

ALBERT .

You know full we ll wha t makes me look so pal e .

AURANTH E .

No ! D o I ? Sure ly I am sti ll to learnSome horror ; all I know, this present , isI am near hustled to a dangerous gulph ,


Which you can save me from ,— and therefore safe;

So trus ting in thy love ; that shoul d not makeThee pale , my Albert .

ALBERT .

I t doth make me freez e .

AURANTH E .

Why Should it , love ?ALBERT .

You should not ask me that ,But make your own heart moni tor , and saveMe the grea t pa in of te l l ing . You mus t know.

AURANTHE .

Something has vext you , Al bert . There are t imesWhen s imples t things put on a sombre cas t ;A m elancholy mood wi ll haunt a man ,

Until most easy ma tters take the shapeOf unachievable tasks ; sma ll r ivu le tsThen seem impas sable .

ALBERT .

Do not chea t yourse lfWith hope that gloss of words , or suppl iant ac tion ,

Or tears , or ravings , or s e lf- threaten’d dea th ,

Can alter my resolve .

You make me tremble ;Not so much at your threa ts , as at your vo ice ,Untun’d ,

and harsh , and barren of all love .

ALBERT .

You suffoca te me S top this devil’s parley ,And l is ten to me ; know me once for all .

AURANTH E .

I thought I did . Alas ! I am deceiv’d .

ALBERT .

No , you are not deceiv’d. You took me for

A man detesting al l inhuman crime ;

[ACE I v.

51 2 0TH O TH E GREAT.

D o not affect amazement , hypocr i te ,At see ing me in this chamber .

CONRAD .

Auranthe

ALBERT .

Talk not with eyes , but speak your curses out

Aga inst me , who would sooner crush and gr indA brace of toads , than league wi th them t

’oppress

An innocent lady , gull an Empe ror ,More generous to me than autumn sun

To ripening harves ts .

AURANTH E .

NO more insul t , sir !

ALBERT .

Aye , clutch your scabbard ; but , for prudence sake ,D raw not the sword ; ’

twould make an uproar , D uke ,You would not hear the end of. At nightfallYour lady s is ter , if I guess ar ight ,Will leave this busy cas tle . You had bes tTake farewe ll too of worldly vani t ies .

CONRAD .

Vassal

ALBERT.

To-morrow, when the Emperor sendsFor loving Conrad , see you fawn on him .

Good evenAURANTHE .

You’ll be seen

ALBERT.

See the coas t clear then.

AURANTH E (as he goes) .

Remorse less Albert ! Cruel , cruel wre tch !

[Ac r Iv.

him oztt

SCENE OTH O TH E GREAT. 5 1 3

CONRAD .

SO, we must lick the dust ?

CONRAD .

H ow? Where ? The plan of your escape ?

AURANTH E .

H e waitsFor me with horses by the fores t- s ide ,Northward .

CONRAD .

Good , good ! he dies . You go , say you ?

AURANTH E .

CONRAD .

Be speedy , darkness ! T i l l tha t comes ,Fiends keep you company !

AURANTH E .

And you ! And you !

And all men ! Vanish ![Retir es to an inner

SCENE I I . An Apa r tm ent in the Castle.

Enter LUDOLPH and Page.

PAGE .

S till very sick my Lord ; but now I wentKnowing my duty to so good a Prince ;The second o f the fragm ents of the manuscript m entioned a t page 452 beg ins

with the open ing of S cene I I , Act I V . I have a dop ted many m inor varia tions of

text which need not b e spe c ified ; b ut I may note a t start ing tha t l ine 2 is not g ivenin previous ed it ions .

51 4 OTH O TH E GREAT. [Aer

And there her women in a mournful throngStood in the passage whispering : if anyMov’d ’twas wi th careful s teps and hush’d as death ;They bid me s top .

LUDOLPH .

Good fe llow, once again

Make soft enqu iry ; prythee be not s tay’d

By any hindrance , but wi th gentlest forceBreak through her weeping servants , t il l thou com’

at

E’en to her chamber door , and there fa ir Boy,

I f with thy mother’s m i lk thou has t suck’d inAny diviner e loquence ; woo her earsWith pla ints for me more tender than the voiceOf dying Echo, echoed .

PAGE .

Kindes t mas ter !To know thee sad thus , wil l unloose my tongueI n mournful syllable s . Le t but my words reachH er ears and she sha ll take them coupled withMoans from my heart and s ighs not counterfeit .May I speed be tter ! [Exit Page .

LUDOLPH .

Auranthe ! My Life !Long have I lov’d thee , yet til l now not lov

’d

Remembering , as I do , hard-hea rted timesWhen I had heard even of thy death pe rhaps ,And thought less , suffe red to pas s a loneInto E lys ium ! now I fol low theeA shadow or a substance , whereso

’er

Thou leades t me ,— whe ther thy white fee t press ,

7 ) Cance l led read ing , for me in p lace ofprythee.

I 4 ) Cance l led read ing ,

Of dying echo,echoed at her

( 1 5) Cance l led read ing , To see thee sad

(24- 5) Cance lled read ing,thee

Now I go with { he rWhen heaven p lease s : shou ld it b e to

The l ines now stand ing as 25-9 are not in the fragment ; but an asterisk indicatesa reference to some othe r p lace , probably to the back of the leaf before , which ismissmg.


GERSA .

I f I break notToo much upon your thoughtful mood , I willC la im a brief while your pat ience .

LUDOLPH .

For wha tSoc

’et I shall be honour’d .

LUDOLPH .

What may it be ? No tr ifle can take placeOf such del ibera te prologue , serious ’haviour .

But be it what it may I cannot fa ilTo l isten wi th no common interestFor though so new your presence is to me ,I have a soldier’s fr iendship for your famePlease you e xpla in .

GERSA .

AS thus for , pardonI cannot in pla in terms gross ly assaultA noble nature ; and would fa intly ske tchWha t your quick apprehens ion wi l l fill upSo fine ly I es teem you .

GERSA .

Your generous Fa ther , most illus trious Otho,S its in the Banque t room among his Chie fsH is wine is bit ter , for you are not thereHis eyes are fix

’

d s t il l on the open doors ,And every passer in he frowns upon

See ing no Ludolph comes .

(47—8) There is a rejected passage he re as followsI sought you no t

But as I chance to m ee t you here

(57 ) Cance l led read ing ,I wait

,pl ease you exp lain,

[ACT Iv.

som e OTH O TH E GREAT.

LUDOLPH .

I do neglectGERSA .

And for your absence , may I guess the cause ?

LUD OLPH .

Stay there no gues'

s ? more princely'

you mus t beThan to make guesses at m e .

’Tis enough ,I ’m sorry I can hear no more .

GERSA .

And IAs griev

’d to force i t on you so abrupt ;Yet one day you mus t know

,

a gr ief whose s tingWill sharpen more the longer ’tis concea l

’

d .

LUDOLPH .

Say i t at once , sir , dead , dead , is she dead ?

GERSA .

Mine 1 8 a crue l task : she is not deadAnd would for your sake she were innocent

LUDOLPH .

Thou l iest ! thou amaz est me beyondAll Scope of thought ; convulsest my heart’s bloodTo deadly churning Gersa you .

are -youngAs I am ; le t m e observe you face to face ;Not grey-brow’d like the poisonous E thelbert ,No rheumed eyes , no furrowing of age ,No wrinkles where a ll vices nest le inLike crannied verm in no , but fresh and young(73 ) The word hu lk is here rejected for s ting .

(7 8 ) This line stands in Lord H oughton'

s ed itions thusH ungar ian ! Thou ama z es t m e

I n the manuscript there is a cance l led read ingThou l iest ! and such a

But fina l ly it s tands as in the text without any trace of H ung a r ian /

51 8 OTH O TH E GREAT. [Ac-r I V.

And hopeful featur’d . H a ! by heaven you weepTears , human tears Do you repent you thenOf a curs

’d torturer’s oflice ! Why shoul ds t joinTe l l me , the league of D evils ? Confess confessThe Lie .

GERSA .

Lie but begone al l ceremonious poin tsOf honor batta ilous . I coul d not turnMywra th aga ins t thee for the orbed world .

LUDOLP I I .

Your wra th weak boy? Tremble at m ine unlessRe traction follow close upon the heelsOf tha t la te stounding insul t : why has my swordNot done already a sheer judgment on thee ?D espair , or eat thy words . Why , thou was t nighWhimpe ring away my reason : hark ye , Sir ,I t I S no secre t ; that ErminiaErm inia Sir , was hidden in your tent ;

.O bless

’d asylum ! comfortable home !

‘Begone , I pi ty thee , thou art a Gul l !Erm inia’s last new puppet

GERSA .

Furious fireThou mak’st me boil as hot as thou cans t flame !And in thy teeth I gi ve thee back the lie !Thou lies t Thou, Auranthe

’s fool , A wittol

LUDOLPH .

Look look at th is bright swordThere is no part of i t to the very hiltBut sha ll indulge i tse lf about thine heartD raw but remember thou mus t cower thy plumes ,As yesterday the Arab made thee s toop(9 5—6 ) I n the manuscript , your s tands cance l led for that ; and there is the re

j ected read ing ,N ot done I ts j udgm ent on thee ?

(9 9 ) The m anuscript read s To no secr et instead of I t is no secr et, for which I

p resume Lord H oughton had other manuscrip t authority.( 1 03) The manuscrip t has fr esh instea d of last new

,so as to make E rminia

scan a s four fu ll syl lables .


LUDOLP H .

As I wi ll be of mercy ! So, at las t,This na il is in my temples

GERSA .

GERSA.

And Albe rt too has disappear’d ;Ere I met you, I sought him everywhere ;You would not hearken .

LUDOLP H .

Which way went they, boy?

GERSA .

I’l l hunt with you .

LUDOLPH .

No,no, no . My senses are

S til l whole . I have surviv’d . My arm is strongMy appe tite sharp — for revenge ! I

’

ll no SharerI n my feas t ; my injury is al l my own

,

And so is my revenge , my lawful chattels !Te rr ier, ferre t them out ! Burn —burn the witch !Trace me the ir foots teps ! Away!

[ACT I v.

SCENE L] OTH O TH E GREAT. 52 !

ACT V .

SCENE I . A pa r t of the For est .

Enter CONRAD and AURANTH E .

AURANTH E .

Go no further ; not a s tep more ; thou art

A mas ter-plague in the m ids t of m iseries .

Go— I fear thee . I tremble every limb ,Who neve r shook before . There’s moody deathI n thy resolved looks Yes , I cou ld knee lTo pray thee far away . Conrad , go , go

There ! yonder undernea th the boughs I seeOur horses

CONRAD .

Aye , and the man .

AURANTH E .

Yes , he is there .

Go , go no blood , no blood , go gentle Conrad !CONRAD .

Farewell

Farewe ll , for this H eaven pardon you . 1 0

[Exit AURANTH E .

attributes this act to the unpromp ted imaginat ion of Kea ts . H e seem s to havetaken grea t pa ins with this part of the work , a s there is evidence ind icating tha ta good dea l must have been who l ly re-written before the vers ion g iven among the

Literary Rema ins was arr ived a t. That vers ion is of course adop ted in the ma inhe re ; but I have accommodated some m inor deta ils to the manuscript.( 1 - 2) There is a cance l led read ing here

you are

A p lague-spot in the m idst of m iseries.

8) The manuscript reads Aye and a

( I o—1 2) The word then is cancelled after Farewel l,and Conrad

’s fina l speechbegins thus in the manuscript

I f he escape me may I die fhe death

Of unimagined

522 OTH O TH E GREAT. [ACT v.

CONRAD .

I f he survive one hour , then may I dieI n unimagined tortures or brea the throughA long l ife in the foulest s ink of the worldH e dies ’

tis we ll she do not advertiseThe caitiff of the cold s tee l at his back . I 5

[Exit CONRAD .

Enter LUDOLPH and PAGE .

LUDOLPH .

Miss’d the way, boy, say not tha t on your peril !PAGE.

Indeed , indeed I cannot tra ce them further .

LUDOLPH .

Mus t I stop here ? H ere sol i tary die ?( 1 8—32) This pas sage as printed doe s not stand in the fragment of manuscript

a t a ll ; b ut the correspond ing draft of this and wha t is now the opening of the nextscene s ta nds crossed out after various m inute amendments ; and the final vers ionwas probably written upon the back of some leaf of the manuscript not now forthcom ing. H ere is the rejected versionLudolph. What he re ! here sol itary must I die

W ithout revenge ,he re s tifled in the shade

Of these du l l Boughs Pshaw,bitter bitter end

A bitte r death ! a suffocat ing death !A gnawing ,

s i lent dead ly quie t death !Must she escape me P Can I not c lutch he r fast ?She ’

s gone , away, awa y, away and now

Each moment brings its poison— I mus t die

As nea r a H e rm it's dea th as atience Oh !

}r

Nar lWar ! War ! V

gl ere is t a t i l lus trious noise

0 p awa my l iTogi

s

other tip this sound Of labounng breathTh is death song of the trees. Blow Trumpe ters !

sinhs] O curs’

d Auranthe ! [Enter ALBERTAlbert ! here is hope l

G lorious i l lum inate c lamour yet ; Thrice vil lainousTe l l me where tha t dete sted Woman isOr this is through thee "

youAl l er t. 'My go

’

od Prince with meThe sword has done its worst [AU

My Lord—a noiseThis way H ark!

Ludolph. c lamourYCS a glorious skuflI le] } ye t

S cene chang es to another par t of the wood.E nter ALBERT wounded and LUDOLPH .


D one to another Conrad has i t home

I see you know i t allLUDOLPH .

Where is his s is ter ?AURANTH E r ushes in .

AURANTH E .

AlbertLUDOLP I I .

H a ! There there — H e is the paramour !

There hug him dying O , thou innocence ,Shrine him and comfort him at his las t gasp ,

Kiss down his eye l ids ! Was he not thy love ?Wilt thou forsake him at his lates t hour ?Keep fearful and aloof from his last gaze ,

His most uneasy moments , when cold deathS tands wi th the door ajar to le t him in ?

ALBERT .

0 that that door with hollow s lam would closeUpon me sudden , for I cannot mee t ,I n all the unknown chambers of the dead ,Such horrors

LUDOLPH .

Auranthe ! what can he mean ?What horrors ? I s it not a joyous t ime ?Am I not married to a paragon

Of pe rsona l beauty and unta inted soul ?A blushing fa ir-ey’d Puri ty ! A Sylph ,Whose snowy tim id hand has never s in’dBeyond a flower pluck’d , white as itse lf ?Albert you do insult my Bride— your MistressTo talk of horrors on our wedding-night .

(7 )'

The stage dire ction E nter Aura nthe is struck out in the manuscrip tin favour

Zlf

l

Aur anthe r ushes in ; and the next spe e ch of Ludolph is not in the manuscr ipt at

(24—5) I n the manuscript there is a rejec ted read ingWhose snowy t im id hand has neve r grasp’

d

Beyond a fl ower,dainty as i ts e lf,

and l ine 24 is left stand ing thusBeyond a flower

, pluck’

d m i ld as itself.

Sam m] OTH O TH E GREAT. 525

ALBERT .

Alas poor Prince , I would you knew my heart .’Tis not SO guil ty

LUDOLPH .

H ear you he pleads not guiltyYou are not ? or if so wha t matters i t ?You have escap

’d me ,— free as the dusk air

Hid in the fores t— safe from my revenge ;I cannot ca tch you You should laugh a t me ,

Poor chea ted Ludolph , make the fores t hissWith jeers at me You tremble ; fa int at once ,You wi l l come to aga in . 0 Cocka trice ,

I have you . Whither wander those fa ir eyesTo entice the D evil to your help tha t heMay change you to a Spider , so to crawlInto some cranny to escape my wra th ?

ALBERT .

Sometimes the counse l of a dying manD oth operate quietly when his brea th is goneD isjoin those hands— par t part , do not des troyEach other forge t her our m iseriesAre equal shar’d , and mercy is

LUDOLPH .

A boonWhen one can compass it . Auranthe , tryYour ora tory your breath is not so hitch’d

Aye ,'

s tare for he lp[ALBERT g r oans and dies .

There goes a spotted soulH owl ing in va in a long the hollow nightH ear him—he calls you Swee t Auranthe come ! 50

(45) The word a lmost stands before equa l in the manuscript , somewha t to the

detriment of the m etre .

(47 ) There is a cance l led read ing here ,shor t for hiteh

’d. I n form er ed itions the

next stage d irect ion is S imp ly Alber t dies.(49 ) I n the manuscript , about stands cance l led in favour o f a long . The stage

direc tion'

with wh ich the next scene opens is

Scene 2nd—A court ya rd before one o f the ca st le doors.

enter three gent lem en m eet ing.

The Spe akers ’ names appear throughou t the scene as 1 st Gent . , and Gent . , and 3r d

Gent. Lord H oughton’

s ed it ions have the d ire ct ion as in the text ; b ut 1 st Knig htstands for Theodor e

, perhaps through an oversight ofKea ts '

s .


Kill me .

LUD OLPH .

No , What , upon our Marr iage -night !The earth would shudder at so foul a deedA fa ir Br ide , a swee t Bride , an innocent Bride !No , we mus t reve l it , as ’

tis in use

I n times of de l icate bril l iant ceremonyCome , le t me lead you to our hall s aga inNay, l inger not make no res is tance swee tWill you Ah wre tch , thou cans t not , for I haveThe s trength of twenty lions ’

ga ins t a lambNow one adieu for Alber t come away .

SCENE I I I .—An inner Cour t of the Castle .

Enter S I G I FRED , GONFRED , and TH EODORE meeting .

TH EODORE .

Was ever such a night ?S I G IFRED .

Wha t horrors more ?Things unbeliev’d one hour , so s trange they are ,The next hour s tamps with credit .

TH EODORE .

Your las t news ?

GONFRED .

After the Page’s s tory of the dea thOf Albert and Duke Conrad ?

S I G IFRED .

And the returnOf Ludolph wi th the Pr incess .

(9 ) The re is a cance l led read ing here ,Thing s unbeliew d/

‘or m xgenm .


SCENE I V . A Cabinet , opening towa rd s a Ter r ace .

OTH O , ERM I N I A , ETH ELBERT , a nd a Physicznn ,dzscover ed .

OTHO .

O , my poor Boy ! my Son ! my Son my Ludolph !H ave ye no comfort for me , ye Phys ic iansOf the weak Body and Soul ?

ETH ELBERT .

’Tis not the Medic ine

E ither of heaven or earth can cure unlessFit time be chosen to adm inis te r

OTH O .

A kind forbearance , holy Abbot comeErm inia , here sit by me , gent le G irl ;G ive me thy hand has t thou forg iven me ?

ERM I N I A .

Would I were with the saints to pray for you !

OTHO .

Why wi ll ye keep me from my dar l ing ch ild ?

PH YSI C I AN .

Forg ive me , but he mus t not see thy face

OTHO .

I s then a father’s countenance a Gorgon ?

H ath it not comfort in i t ? Would it notConsole my poor Boy, cheer him , heal his spiri ts ?Let m e embrace him , let me speak to himI wi l l who hinders me ? Who ’

s Emperor ?

(3- 4) I n previous ed itions'

Tis not in m ed ic ine,

Either of heaven or earth , to

Som e 1 v.] OTH O TH E GREAT.

PH YSI CI AN .

You may not S ire ’twould overwhe lm him quite ,H e is so full of grief and pass ionate wra th ,Too heavy a s igh would kil l him or do worse .

H e mus t be sav’d

‘

by fine contrivancesAnd mos t especially we mus t keep clearOut of his s ight a Father whom he lovesH is heart is full , i t can conta in no more ,And do its ruddy office .

ETH ELBERT.

Sage advice ,

We must endeavour how to ease and s lackenThe tight-wound energies of his despair ,Not make them tenser

OTH O .

Enough ! I hear , I hear .

Yet you were about to advise more— I l isten .

ETH ELBERT .

This learned doctor wi ll agree with me ,That not in the smallest point should he be thwartedOr ga insaid by one word his very motions ,Nods , becks and hints , should be obey’d wi th care ,Even on the moment : so his troubled m indMay cure itse lf

PH YS I CI AN .

There is no other means .

OTH o .

Open the door ; let’s hear if all is qu ie t

PH YSI CI AN .

Beseech you Sire , forbear .

(26) I n the manuscript, hot soul is struck ou t in favour of despair .

529


OTHO.

I commandOpen it straight hush quie t my lost Boy !My m iserable Child !

Fil l , fill my goblet ,H ere

’s a hea lth !

ERM I NI A.

0, close the door .

OTHo .

Let , let me hear his voice ; th is cannot las tAnd fa in woul d I catch up his dying wordsThough my own kne ll they be this cannot last0 let me catch his voice for 10 ! I hearThis s ilence whisper me that he is dead !I t is so. Gersa ?

PH YS I CI AN .

Say, how fares the prince ?

GERSA .

More calm his features are less wild and flush’dOnce he complain

’d of weariness

PH YSI CIAN .

Indeed !’Tis good—’

tis good let him but fal l as leep,That saves him .

(37 ) I n the manuscriptOpen igz

tr

gi

gglt

st quiet my lost Boy !And the next speech is g iven thus

Ludolph’

s distant r aving ,fil l ,fix]! my Goblet—her e a hea lth.

(43- 4) There is a cance l led read ing ,hear fo r catch and the l ine g iven in previ

ous ed i tions ,A wh ispe r in this s i lence that he's dead !

is de l iberate ly struck out for the l ine g iven in the tex t.

532 OTH 0 TH E GREAT. [ACT v.

SCENE V . A B anqueting H a ll , brilliantly illumina ted , and set

for th with a ll costly magnificence , with S upper -tables , la den with

services of Gold and Silver . A door in the ba ck scene, gua r ded

by two S oldier s . Lords , La dies , Knights , Gent lem en , & c., whis

pering sadly, and r anging them selves ; pa r t entering a nd pa r tdiscover ed .

F I RST KNI GH T .

G rievous ly are we tantaliz ’d , one and a ll

Sway’

d here and there , commanded to and fro

As though we were the shadows of a dreamAnd l ink’d to a s leeping fancy . What do we here ?

GONFRED .

I am no Seer— you know we mus t obeyThe prince from A to Z though i t should beTo set the place in flames . I pray has t heardWhere the mos t wicked Princess is ?

F I RST KN I GH T.

There , Sir ,I n the ne x t room— have you remark’d those twoS tout soldiers pos ted at the door ?

GONFRED .

For what ?F I RST LADY.

H ow ghas t a tra in !SECOND LADY .

Sure this should be some splendid bur ial .

F I RST LADY .

Wha t fearful whispering ! See , see , Ge rsa there !(3—4 ) I n forme r ed it ions

the shadows of a s leep ,

And link'd to a dre am ing fancy.8) This th ird spe ech is ass igned to 1 st Lord in the m anuscript .II O) There are two reje cted read ings he re ,pacing and sta nding ,

forposted ; andthe s tage d ire ction enter Ger sa fo l lows the next que stion of Gonfred in the m anu

script , where the re is no trace of the I st and and Lad ies ’

speeches now intervening.

SCENE v.] 0TH 0 TH E GREAT.

Enter GERSA .

GERSA .

Put on your brightest looks ; sm i le if you can ;Behave as all were happy ; keep your eyesFrom the leas t watch upon him ; if he SpeaksTo any one , answer col lectedly ,Without surprise , his quest ions , howe’er strange .

D o this to the utmos t , though , alas with meThe remedy grows hopeless ! H ere he comes ,

Observe what I have sa id , _ show no surpr ise .

Enter LUDOLPH , followed by S I G I FRED and

LUDOLPH .

A splendid company ! rare beauties hereI should have Orphean l ips , and P lato’s fancy,Amphion’

s utterance , toned wi th his lyre ,Or the deep key of Jove’s sonorous mouth ,To give fit sa lutat ion . Me thought I heard ,As I came in , some whispers , what of that ?’Tis natura l men Should whisper ; at the kissOf Psyche g iven by Love , there was a buzzAmong the gods and s i lence is as natural .These draper ies are fine , and , be ing a mortal ,I should des ire no be tter ; yet , in truth ,There mus t be some superior cost l iness ,Some wider—domed high magnificence !I would have , as a mortal I may not ,

H anging of heaven’s clouds , purple and gold ,S lung from the spheres ; gauzes of s i lver m is t ,Loop

’d up with cords of twisted wreathed light ,

And tassell’d round with weeping m e teors !

These pendent lamps and chande l iers are brightAs earthly fires from dull dross can be cleansed ;Ye t could my eyes drink up intenser beams

Undazzled , this is darkness , — when I closeThese l ids , I see far fiercer bri l l iances ,Sk ies full of splendid moons , and shoot ing stars ,And spout ing exha lat ions, diamond fires ,And panting founta ins quive r ing with deep glows !Yes this is dark is i t not dark ?

533


S I G IFRED .

My Lord,’Tis late ; the l ights of fes tival are everQuench

’d in the mom .

LUDOLPH .

’Tis not to-morrow then?

S I G I FRED .

’Tis early dawn .

GERSA .

Indeed ful l t ime we s lept ;Say you so, Prince ?

LUDOLPH .

I say I quarre ll’d wi th you ;We did not til t each other , that’s a bless ing ,

Good gods ! no innocent blood upon my head !

S I G I FRED .

Retire , GersaLUDOLPH .

There Should be three more hereFor two of them , they s tay away perhaps ,Be ing gloomy-m inded , haters of fair reve ls ,They know the ir own thoughts bes t .

As for the

D eep blue eyes— sem i -shaded in whi te l ids ,Finish’d wi th lashes fine for more soft shade ,Comple ted by her twin- arch’d ebon browsWhite temples of e xactes t e legance ,

Of even mould fe l icitous and smoothCheeks fashion’

d tenderly on e ither s ide ,So perfect , so divine tha t our poor eyesAre da zzled wi th the swee t proportioning ,

And wonder that ’tis so , the mag ic chance !H er nostrils , small , fragrant , faery-de l icate ;H er l ips —I swear no human bones e

’e r wore

{ ACT v.

59 ) A fresh fragment of the manus cript opens with this desc ription of Auranthe but the l ines occur in an ent ire ly d iffe rent orde r : the sequence is l ines 7 167

- 8, 59—66

,69—7 0 ; and Kea ts doubtle ss saw the a rtis tic improvement to be

compassed by transposit ion. I n l ine 59 with s tands cance ll e d in favour ofin.


FI RST LADY.

H e muses .

GERSA.

O , Fortune , this end ?S I G IFRED .

I guess his purpose ! Indeed he mus t not haveThat pes ti lence brought in ,

— that cannot be ,

There we must s top him .

GERSA .

I am lost ! H ush , hush !H e is about to rave aga in .

LUDOLPH .

A barr ier of gui l t ! I was the fool ,She was the cheater ! Who ’

s the cheater now,

And who the fool ? The entrapp’d , the caged fool ,

The bird- lim’d raven ? She sha l l croak to deathSecure ! Methinks I have her in my fist ,To crush he r with my heel ! Wa it , wa i t ! I marve lMy father keeps away : good friend , ah ! Sigifred !Do bring him to me and E rm iniaI fa in would see before I s leep— and E thelbert ,That he may bless me , as I know he willThough I have curs

’d him .

S I G I FRED .

Rather suffer meTo lead you to them

LUDOLPH .

NO, e xcuse me , no

The day is not qu i te done go bring them hither . I 1 5

[En’

t S I G I FRED .

Certes a father’s sm i le should , l ike sun l ight ,S lant on my Sheafed harvest of r ipe bliss

( 1 09 ) The re is a further fragm ent of the manuscript e xtend ing from hly fatherto he enter s now ( l ine

I I I ) I n the m anusc r ipt , holy E the lber t .( 1 1 7 ) I n the m anuscrip t , g a ther '

d is struck out in fa vour of sheafed not sheaveda s in former e d itions .

SCENE v.] OTH O TH E GREAT. 537

Bes ides I thirst to pledge my love ly BrideI n a deep goblet : let me see— what wine ?The s trong Iberian juice , or me llow Greek ?Or pa le Ca labrian ? Or the Tuscan grape ?

Or of old [ Etna’s pulpy wine presses ,Black s tain

’d wi th the fat vintage , as i t were

The purple slaughter- house , where Bacchus’ selfPrick

’

d his own swollen ve ins ? Where is my Page ?PAGE .

H ere , here ! 1 25LUDOLPH .

Be read y to obey me ; anon thou sha ltBear a soft message for me— for the hourD raws near when I mus t make a winding upOf brida l Mysteries a fine - spun vengeance !Carve i t on my Tomb , tha t when I res t beneathMen sha ll confess— This Prince was gull’d and cheatedBut from the ashes of disgrace he rose

More than a fiery Phoeni x— and did burnH is ignom iny up in purging firesDid I not send , Sir , but a moment past ,For my Fa the r ?

GERSA .

You did .

LUDOLPH .

Perhaps ’twould beMuch better he came not .

GERSA .

H e enters now !

Enter OTH O , ERM I N I A , ETH ELBERT, S I G I FRED , a nd

LUDOLPH .

O thou good Man ,~ agains t whose sacred head

I was a mad conspirator , chiefly too

( 1 28) The word righteous is cance l led before winding up .

( 1 33) I n former ed it ions,dr ag on in p lace of Phoenix .

( 1 36) I ns tead of Gersa we have I st Lord here in the manuscript , and Lor d beforethe next spe ech but one .

( 1 38- 4 1 ) These four lines are written upon the back of the fragment be lo ng ingto the first Act.


For the sake of my fa ir newly wedded wife ,Now to be punish

’d , do not look so sad !

Those Chari table eyes wi ll thaw my heart ,Those tea rs wi l l wash away a jus t resolve ,A verdict ten t imes sworn ! Awake— awakePut on a judge’s brow, and use a tongueMade iron- stern by habit ! Thou sha lt seeA deed to be applauded , ’

scribed in gold !Join a loud voice to m ine , and so denounceWhat I alone wi ll e xecute !

OTHO .

D ear son ,

Wha t is it ? By your father’s love , I sueTha t i t be noth ing merciless !

LUDOLPH .

To tha t demon ?Not so ! No ! She is in temple -s ta llBe ing garnish’d for the sacrifice , and I ,The Pr iest of Just ice , wi ll immola te herUpon the al tar of wrath ! She s t ings me throughEven as the worm doth feed upon the nut ,

So she , a scorp ion , preys upon my bra in !I fee l her gnawing here ! Let her but vanish ,Then , fa ther , I wi l l lead your legions forth ,Compact in stee led squares , and spea red files ,And bid our trumpe ts speak a fe ll rebukeTo nations drows’d in peace

OTHO .

To-morrow, Son,

Be your word law forget to-day

LUDOLPH .

I willWhen I have finish’

d i t -now now ! I ’m pight ,T ight-footed for the deed !

( 1 52) I suspe ct we shou ld read in the temp le-sta l l ; but I have seen no manu

script of this spe ech .

( 1 62) A fina l fragment of the manuscript begins here and extends to the end of

the t edy

( 1 64 I t I s intere sting to note that Keats s til l affected the Spense rian pight forpitched, evenwhen not needing it for a rhyme as in E ndymion (Book I I , line

540 0TH O TH E GREAT. [ACT

Am I Obey’d ?A lit tle talk with her—no harm has te ! haste !Set her before me never fear I can s trike .

SEVERAL VO I CES.

My Lord ! My Lord !

LUDOLPH .

Why do ye trouble me ? out out out away !There she is ! take that ! and that ! no , no

That’s not we l l done Where is she ?

[The door s open . Enter Page . a re

seen gr ouped about Aur a nthe in the inner room .

PAGE .

Alas ! My Lord , my Lord they cannot move her !H er arms are stifl

'

,—her fingers clench’

d and cold

She ’s dead ! [S taggers and fa lls into their

ETH ELBERT.

Take away the dagger .

GERSA.

Softly ; so( 1 84 ) I nstead of the stage d irection h

with one o Aur anthe’

s women.

(1 85) ance lled read ing ,

we

1 87 ) The tragedy s eem s to have bee n wound up more

the

l

manuscript immed ia te ly afl er She '

s dead the fo lloce l ed :

I am content Nobles good nightI wil l to bed tomorrow

SCENE v.] OTH 0 TH E GREAT. 54 I

OTH O .

Thank God for thatS I G I FRED .

I fear i t could not harm him.

GERSA .

NO brief be his anguish !LUDOLPH .

She ’s gone— I am content Nobles , good night !

We are all weary , faint , set ope the doorsI wil l to bed -_ To-morrow

TH E CURTA I N FALLS .

( 1 88) This utterance was intended for E the lbert first : in the margin we read

E the lber t . I fear the

But this is crossed through , and Sigifred '

s speech is subst ituted a speech whichin previous editions reads I t could not harm him now.

K I N G S T E P H E N

A DRAMATI C FRAGMENT .

ACT I .

SCENE I . —Field of B a ttle .

Ala r um . Enter King STEPH EN , Knights , and

STEPH EN .

F shame can on a soldier’s ve in- swoll’n front

Spread deeper crimson than the battle’s toi l,B lush in your cas ing helmets ! for see , see !

Yonder my chiva lry , my pride ofwar ,Wrench

’d with an iron hand from firm array ,Are routed loose about the p lashy meads ,Of honour forfe it . 0 that my known voiceCould reach your dastard ears , and fr ight you more !Fly , cowards , fly ! G locester is at your backs !Throw your s lack bridles o

’er the flurried manes ,

Ply we ll the rowel with fa int trembling hee ls ,Scampering to death at las t

F I RST KN I GH T .

The enemyBears his flaunt standard close upon the ir rear .

SECOND KN I GH T.

Sure of a bloody prey , see ing the fensWill swamp them girth-deep .

STEPH EN .

Over head and ears ,

No matter ! ’Tis a gallant enemy ;

546 KI N G STEPH E N . [ACT I .

H ow l ike a comet he goes stream ing on .

But we must plague him in the flank ,—hey, friends ?We are we l l breathed , follow

Enter Ea r l BALDWI N and Soldier s , a s

STEPH EN .

D e RedversWha t is the mons trous bugbear tha t can frightBaldwin ?

BALDWI N .

No scare-crow, but the fortunate s tarOf boisterous Ches ter , whos e fe ll truncheon now

Points leve l to the goal of victory .

This way he come s , and if you would ma inta inYour person unaffronted by vil e odds ,Take horse , my Lord .

STEPH EN .

And which way spur for life ?Now I thank H eaven I am in the toil s ,Tha t soldiers may bear witness how my arm

Can burs t the meshes . Not the eagle more

Loves to beat up aga ins t a tyrannous blas t ,Than I to mee t the torrent of my foes .

This is a brag ,— be

’t so ,

— but if l fall ,Carve i t upon my ’

scutcheon’d sepulchre .

On ,fe llow soldiers ! Earl of Redvers , back !

Not twenty Earls of Chester shall brow-bea tThe diadem . [E xeunt .

SCENE I I .—Another par t of the Field .

Tr umpets sounding a Victory . Enter GLOCE STER , Knights , andForces .

GLOCESTER .

Now may we l ift our bruised vizors up ,

And take the flattering freshness of the air ,While the wide din of batt le dies awayInto times pas t , yet to be echoe d sure

I n the s i lent pages of our chron iclers .

54 8 KI N G S TEPH EN .

Like Pal las from the wal ls of I lion ,

And seen her enem ies havock’d at her fee t .She greets most noble G locester from her heart ,Intreat ing him . hl S capta ins , and brave knights ,To grace a banque t . The high city gatesAre envious which shall see your triumph pass ;The s tree ts are ful l of mus i c .

Enter S econd Knight .

GLOCESTER .

Whence come you ?SECOND KNI GH T .

From S tephen, my good Prince , S tephen ! Stephen !

GLOCESTER .

Why do you make such echoing of his name ?

SECOND KNI GHT.

Because I think , my lord , he is no man ,

But a fierce demon ,

’nointed safe from wounds ,

And misbaptiz ed wi th a Christian name .

GLOCESTER .

A m ighty soldier D oes he s t il l hold out ?

SECOND KN I GH T.

H e shames our victory . H is valour s til lKeeps elbow-room am id our eager swords ,And holds our bladed fa lchions all a loofH is gleam ing batt le -axe be ing s laughter- s ick ,Smote on the morion of a Flem ish knight ,Broke short in his hand ; upon the which he flungThe heft away with such a vengeful force ,I t paunch

’d the Earl of Cheste r’s horse , who thenSpleen-hearted came in full career at him .

GLOCESTER .

Did no one take him at a vantage then ?

SCENE I I I .] KI N G S TEPH EIV. 54 9

SECOND KN I GHT .

Three then wi th tiger leap upon him flew,Whom , wi th his sword swift-drawn and nimblyH e s tuhg away aga in , and s tood to breathe ,Smi l ing . Anon upon him rush’d once more

A throng of foes , and in th is renew’d s trife ,

My sword met his and snapp’d off at the hi lt .

GLOCESTER .

Come , lead me to this man and let us moveI n s ilence , not insult ing his sad doomWith clamorous trumpets . To the Empress bearMy salutation as befi ts the time .

[Exeunt GLOCESTER and For ces .

SCENE I I I . The Field of Ba ttle. Enter STEPH EN unarmed.

STEPH EN .

Another sword ! And what if I could seizeOne from Be llona’s g leam ing armoury ,Or choose the fa ires t of her sheaved spears !Where are my enem ies ? H ere , close at hand ,H ere come the testy brood . O for a sword !I’m fa int a bit ing sword A noble swordA hedge - stake or a ponderous s tone to hurlWith brawny vengeance , l ike the labourer Ca in.

Come on Farewe l l my k ingdom , and all ha i lThou superb , plum’d , and helme ted renown ,

All ha il— I would not truck this br i ll iant dayTo rule in Pylos with a Nestor’s beardCome on !

Enter DE KA I MS and Knights , &“e.

D E KAI MS .

I s ’t madness , or a hunger after death ,

That makes thee thus unarm’d throw taunts at us ?Yie ld , S tephen , or my sword’s point dips inThe gloomy current of a tra i tor’s heart .

550 KI N G S TEPH E I V.

STEPH EN .

DO it , D e Ka ims , I wi ll not budge an inch .

D e KA I MS .

Yes , of thy madness thou shal t take the meed .

STEPH EN .

B ares t thou ?DE KAI MS .

H ow dare , aga ins t a man disarm’d ?

STEPH EN .

What weapons has the l ion but himse lfCome not near me , D e Ka ims , for by the priceOf all the glory I have won th is day,Be ing a king , I wi l l not yie ld a l iveTo any but the second man of the realm ,

Robert of G loces ter.

DE KAI MS .

Thou Shal t vail to me .

STEPH EN .

Shal l I , when I have sworn aga ins t it , sir ?Thou think’st i t brave to take a brea thing king ,That , on a court -day bow’d to haughty Maud ,The awed presence-chamber may be boldTo whisper , there ’

s the man who took a l iveStephen me prisoner . Certes , D e Kaims ,The ambition is a noble one .

DE KAI MS .

’Tis true ,And , S tephen , I mus t compass i t .

STEPH EN .

No , no,

Do not tempt me to throttle you on the gorge ,Or wi th my gauntlet crush your hollow breas t ,Jus t when your knighthood is grown ripe and fullFor lordship.

[ACT I .

552 KI N G S TEPH EN . [ACT I .

To sage advisers let me ever bendA meek attentive ear , so that they trea tOf the wide kingdom’

s rule and government ,Not trenching on our actions personal .Advis’d , not school

’d , I would be ; and henceforth

Spoken to in clear, pla in , and open terms ,Not s ide-ways sermon

’d at .

GLOCESTER .

Theh, in pla in terms ,

Once more for the fal len king

Your pardon , Brother ,I would no more of that ; for , as I sa id ,’Tis not for worldly pomp I wish to gi veThe rebe l , but as doom ing judge to giveA sentence some thing worthy of his guil t .

GLOCE STER .

I f ’t must be so, I’ll bring him to your presence .

[E xit GLOCESTER .

MAUD .

A meaner summoner m ight do as wellMy Lord of Chester , is ’

t true wha t I hearOf S tephen of Boulogne , our prisoner ,Tha t he , as a fit penance for his crimes ,Eats wholesome , swee t , and pala table foodOff Glocester

’s golden dishes drinks pure

Lodges soft ?

CH ESTER .

More than that , my gracious Queen,

H as anger’d me . The noble Earl , m ethinks ,

Full soldier as he is , and without peerI n counse l , dreams too much among his books .

I t may read we ll , but sure ’tis out of da te

To play the Ale xander with D ar ius .

MAUD .

Truth I think so . By H eavens it shal l not las t

SCENE 1 v.] KI N G S TEPH EN . 553

CH ESTER .

I t would amaze your H ighness now to markH ow G loces ter overstra ins his courtesyTo that cr ime - loving rebe l , tha t Boulogne

MAUD .

Tha t ingra teCH ESTER .

For whose vast ingra titudeTo our late sovere ign lord , your noble s ire ,The generous Earl condoles in his m ishaps ,And with a sort of lackeying fr iendliness ,Talks off the m ighty frown ing from his brow,

Woos him to hold a due t in a smile ,

Or , if i t please him , play an hour at chess

MAUD .

A perjured s laveCH ESTER .

And for his perjury ,G locester has fit rewards nay, I be l ieve ,H e se ts his bustl ing household’s wi ts a t workFor flatteries to ease th is Stephen’

s hours ,And make a heaven of his purga tory ;Adorning bondage wi th the pleasant glossOf feasts and mus i c , and a ll idle showsOf indoor pageantry ; while syren whispers ,Predestin

’d for his ear ,’scape as ha lf-check’d

From l ips the courtlies t and the rubies tOf all the realm , adm iring of his deeds .

MAUD .

A fros t upon his summer !

CH ESTER .

A queen’s nod

Can make his June D ecember . H ere he comes .

556 TH E CAP AN ! ) BELLS .

of the fancy. H e probably had a satiri ca l under-current of meaning ;and i t needs no grea t s tretch of imag ination to see in the i ll ic i t pass ionof Emperor Elfinan , and his detes ta tion for his authorized bride-e le ct ,an oblique glance at the mari ta l re lations of G eorge I V . I t is notdifficult to suggest prototypes for many of the faery- land statesmen

aga ins t whom E lfinan vows vengeance ; and there are many particulars in which earthly incidents are too thickly s trewn to leave one in

the settled bel ief that the poe t’s programme was wholly unearthly .

H . B . FOJ

TH E CAP AND BELLS ;

OR , TH E JEALOUS IES

A FAERY TALE—UNFI NI SH ED .

I .

IN m idmost I nd , beside H ydaspes cool ,There s tood , or hover’d , tremulous in the air ,A faery c i ty ’

neath the potent ruleOf Emperor Elfinan ; fam

’d ev’rywhere

For love of morta l women ,ma idens fa ir ,

Whose l ips were sol id , whose soft hands were madeOf a fi t mould and beauty , ripe and rare ,

TO tamper his s l ight wooing , warm yet s ta idH e lov’d girls smooth as Shades , but hated a mere shade .

I I .This was a crime forbidden by the law ;And al l the priesthood of his c ity wept ,For ruin and dismay they we ll foresaw,

I f impious pr ince no bound or l im i t kept ,And faery Zendervester overstept ;They wept , he S in’d , and s till he would sin on ,

They dream t of sin , and he S in’d while they s lept ;I n va in the pulpi t thunder’d at the throne ,

Cari ca ture was va in , and va in the tart lampoon.

I I I .Which see ing , his high court of parl iamentLa id a remonstrance at his H ighness’ feet ,Praying his royal senses to contentThemse lves wi th what in faery land was swee t ,Befitting best that shade wi th shade should meet

558 TH E CAP AND BELLS .

Whereat , to ca lm the ir fears , he promis’d soon

From mortal tempters a ll to make retreat ,Aye , even on the firs t of the new moon ,

An immaterial wife to espouse as heaven’s boon.

Meant ime he sent a fluttering embassyTo Pigmio , of lmaus sovere ign,

To hal f beg , and ha lf demand , respectful ly ,The hand of his fair daughter Bellanaine ;An audience had ,

and speeching done , they ga inThe ir point , and bring the weeping bride away ;Whom , wi th but one attendant , safe ly la inUpon the ir wings , they bore in bright array ,While l i ttle harps were touch’d by many a lyric fay.

As in old pi ctures tender CherubimA Child’s soul thro’ the sapphir

’d canvas bear,

So , thro’ a rea l heaven , on they swimWith the swee t princess on he r plumag

’d lair ,Speed g iving to the winds her lustrous ha ir ;And so she journey

’d , s leeping or awake ,

Save when , for healthfu l e xercise and air ,

She chose to pr omener a l’aile ,

”or take

pigeon’s somerset , for spor t or change’s sake .

D ear Princess , do not whisper me so loud ,”Quoth Coral l ina ,

nurse and confidant ,Do not you see there , lurking in a cloud ,

Close at your back , tha t s ly Old Crafticant ?

H e hears a whisper pla iner than a rant :D ry up your tears , and do not look so blue ;H e

’s E lfinan’

s great s tate - spy m il i tant ,H is runn ing , lying , flying foot -man too ;

D ear m istress , let him have no handle aga ins t you !

( I V) I t seems doubtful whether the word and in l ine 3 has not been left there bymiStake .

i


Wri tten by Crafticant , and publishedBy Parpaglion and Co .

, ( those s ly compeersWho rak

’d up ev’ry fact aga ins t the dead .)

I n S carab S treet , Panthea , at the Jubal’s H ead.

XI .

Where , after a long hypercri t i c howlAga ins t the vic ious m anners of the age ,H e goes on to e xpose , with heart and soul ,What vice in this or tha t year was the rage ,Backbiting all the world in every page ;With spec ial s trictures on the horrid crime ,(Section

’d and subsection

’d with learning sage , )

Of faeries s tooping on the ir wings sublimeTo kiss a morta l’s l ips , when such were in their prime .

Turn to the copious index , you wi ll findSomewhere in the column , headed le tter B ,

The name of Bellanaine , if you’re not blind ;

Then pray refer to the tex t , and you wil l seeAn art icle made up of calumnyAga ins t this highland princess , rat ing herFor gi ving way, so over fashionably ,To this new-fangled vice , which seems a burr

S tuck in his mora l throat , no coughing e’er could

XI I I .There he says plainly that she lov’d a man !

Tha t she around him flutter’d , fl irted , toy’d ,

Before her marriage with great E lfinan ;Tha t after marriage too , She never joy’dI n husband’s company , but s til l employ’dH er wi ts to ’

Scape away to Angle- land ;Where liv’d the youth , who worried and annoy’d

H er tender heart , and its warm ardours fann’

d

To such a dreadful blaze , her S ide would scorch her

XIV.

But let us leave this i dle t i tt le- tattleTo waiting-maids , and bed-room coteries ,

TH E CAP AND BELLS . 56 I

Nor t ill fi t t ime against her fame wage ba ttle .

Poor Elfinan is very ill at ease ,Let us resume his subject if you pleaseFor i t may comfort and console him much ,To rhyme and syllable his m iseries ;Poor Elfinan ! whose crue l fate was such ,

H e sat and curs’d a bride he knew he could not touch .

Soon as (according to his prom ises)The bri da l embassy had taken wing ,

And vanish’d , bird- l ike , o’er the suburb trees ,The Emperor , empierc

’d with the Sharp s tingOf love , retired , vex’d and murmuringLike any drone shut from the fa ir bee-queen ,

Into his cabine t , and there did fl ingHis l imbs upon a sofa , full of spleen ,

And damn’d his H ouse of Commons , in complete chagrin.

XVI .

I’l l trounce some of the members , cry’d the Prince ,

I’ll put a mark aga ins t some rebel names ,I’l l make the Oppos ition-benches wince ,

I’l l Show them very soon , to all the ir shames ,What ’tis to smother up a Prince’s flames ;That m inisters should join in i t , I own ,

Surpr ises me they too at these high games !Am I an Emperor ? D o I wear a crown ?Imperial Elfinan, go hang thyse lf or drown

XVI I .I’ll trounce ’

em there’s the square-cut chance llor,H is son sha l l never touch that b ishopr i c ;And for the nephew of old Palfior ,I’l l Show him that his speeches made me s i ck ,And g ive the colonelcy to Phalaric ;

(XV I I ) On the suppos ition of a glance at the roya l matr imonia l squabble ,a t its

he ight when Keats wrote this p iece ,the square- cut chance l lor wou ld b e M r.Vans ittart

, I p resume ; and“the t ip toe marqu is m ight probably b e the M a rquis

of Lansdowne , whose refusa l to sit upon the Green Bag Comm ittee in the H ouse or

Lords was both mora l and ga l lant.”


The t iptoe marquis , moral and gallant ,Shal l lodge in shabby taverns upon t ick ;And for the Speaker’s second cous in’

s aunt ,She sha’n’

t be ma id of honour , - by heaven that she sha’n’t !

XVI I I .I’ll shirk the Duke of A . I ’ll cut his brother ;I ’l l give no gart er to his e ldes t son ;I won’t speak to his s ister or his mother !

The Viscount B . sha ll l ive at cut -and-run ;

But how in the world can I contrive to stunThat fe llow’

s voice , which plagues me worse thanThat s tubborn fool , that impudent s ta te -dun,Who sets down ev’ry sovere ign as a zany ,

That vu lgar commoner , Esquire Biancopany? t

XIX .

Monstrous affa ir ! Pshaw ! pah ! wha t ugly minxWill they fe tch from lmaus for my bri de ?Alas my wearied heart wi thin me s inks ,To think that I mus t be so near ally

’d

To a cold dullard fay, ah , woe be tide !Ah , fa ires t of all human love l inessSweet Bertha ! what crime can i t be to gl ideAbout the fragrant pla it ings of thy dress ,

Or kiss thine eyes , or count thy locks , tress after tress ? ”

XX.

SO sa id , one m inute’s while his eyes rema in’dH alf l idded , p iteous , languid , innocent ;But , in a wink , the ir splendour they regain’d ,

Sparkling revenge with amorous fury blent .Love thwarted in bad temper oft has vent

(XVI I I ) The name Biancopany as a m ere fanta sy is too inconce ivably wi ld ;and a t this po int I think the subje ct m entioned in p revious notes may be c lea rlydemonstra ted . Bianco white

, pane br ead ; and we have the name of one

whose career is notorious ly , from G eorge I V'

S po int of view,that of l ines 6 to 9 .

M r. Samue l Whitbread had a t that t ime been a rad ica l m ember of the firs t wa terfor a long pe riod : he wa s so we l l known as an adhe rent of Queen Caro line ,

tha the is sa id to have furnished he r Majes ty

,from his g rea t wea lth , with the necessary

funds for carrying on her cas e ; and on the 1 8th of Septembe r 1 820 he brought hisoffences to

‘

a head by a ttacking the King in a speech supporting a motion forquashing these fi lthy proceed ings .

"

564 TH E CAP AN D BELLS .

But reta i l dealers , dil igent , let looseThe gas (objected to on score of heal th) ,Convey

’d in l ittle solder’d p ipes by s tea l th ,

And make it flare in many a bri l l iant form ,

That al l the powers of darkness it repell’th ,

Which to the oil - trade doth grea t s ca ith and harm,

And superseded qu i te the use of the glow-worm .

XXV .

Eban , untempted by the pas try-cooks ,(Of pas try he got s tore wi thin the palace , )With hasty steps . wrapp

’d cl oak , and solemn looks ,

Incogni to upon his errand sall ies ,H is smell ing-bottle ready for the a ll ies ;H e pass

’d the H urdy-

gurdies with disda in ,

Vowing he’d have them sent on board the gal liJus t as he made his vow, i t ’gan to ra in ,

Therefore he cal l’d a coach , and bade i t dri ve amain.

XXV I .I’l l pul l the s tring , said he , and further sa id ,Polluted Jarvey ! Ah , thou fi lthy hack !

(XXV) The passage comm enc ing he re , quoted by H unt in Tbe I ndicator, was

perhaps the best quota tion he cou ld have made from the

fpoem ,

even if it had not

su ited the part icu lar purpose he had in view. The text 0 his quota tion shows novaria tion from the current issue s of la te r da te ,

except in the ma tte r of a few extracap i ta ls to common nouns . The pas sage introduc ing the stanzas

,mentioned at

page853, is as fo l lows :the H ackney—coach we cannot make a s short work

,as many pe rsons like

to m ake of it in rea lity. Pe rhaps indeed it is part ly a sense of the contempt it

undergoes , which induces u s to endeavour to make the bes t of it. But it has itsmer its , as we sha l l shew presently. I n the account of its demerits

,we have been

antic ipated by a new,and we a re sorry to say a very good poe tess , of the name of

Lu cy V L who has favou red u s with a s ight of a manuscript poem ,in which

they a re re la ted with grea t nice ty and sens it iveness.

READ ER. What , Sir , sorry to say tha t a lady is a good poe tess ?I ND I CATOR. Only in as much

,Madam ,

as the lady g ives such authority tothe ant isoc ia l view of this subjec t

,and wi l l not agree with us as to the bea titude of

the H ackney-coach .—But ho ld - upon turning to the Manuscr ipt again,

we findtha t the object ions a re ut into the mouth of a D andy Court ier. This makes a

grea t d ifference . The ackney re sum es a ll which it had los t in the good graces oi

the fa ir authoress . The only wonder is,how the Courtier cou ld ta lk so we ll."

I t wi l l b e seen that H unt kep t his friend ’

s se cre t dexte rous ly enough .

(XXV I ) The slang word m ay ,for the d rive r of a hackney-coa ch

,is we l l n igh

forgotten in the se days of ansoms"and “

growlers . I do not know whe therit was a common l iberty to take with the word to transfer it from the driver to thevehic le itse lf ; but probably Kea ts knew the orthodox app l ication we l l enough.

TH E CAP AND BELLS .

Whose springs of l ife are a ll dry’d up and dead ,Whose l insey-woolsey lining hangs a ll s lack ,

Whose rug is s traw, whose wholeness is a crack ;And evermore thy steps go cla tter- cl i tter ;Whose glass once up can never be got back .

Who prov’s t , wi th jolt ing arguments and bitter ,

That ’tis of modern use to trave l in a l itter .

XXVI I .Thou inconvenience thou hungry crop

For all corn ! thou sna i l - creeper to and fro ,

Who while thou goes t ever seem’st to s top ,

And fiddle -faddle s tandes t while you go ;I’ the morning ,fre ighted with a we ight of woe ,

Unto some la zar-house thou journeye ‘

s t , .

And in the e vening tak’s t a double row

Of dowdies , for some dance or party dre st ,Bes ides the goods meanwhile thou movest eas t and west .

XXVI I IBy thy unga llant bearing and sad m ien ,

An inch appears the utmost thou coulds t budge ;Yet at the s lightest nod , or h int , or s ign ,

Round to the curb -stone patient dost thou trudge ,School

’d in a beckon , learned in a nudge ,A dul l- ey’d Argus watching for a fare ;

Quie t and plodding , t hou dost bear no grudgeTo whisking T i lburies , or Phae tons rare ,

Curricles , or Ma il-coaches , swift beyond compare .

XXIX .

Philosophi zing thus , he pul l’d the check ,And bade the Coachman whee l to such a s tree t ,Who ,

turn ing much his body , more his neck ,Louted full low, and hoarse ly did him gree t :Certes , Mons ieur were bes t take to his fee t ,

See ing his servant can no further dr i veFor press of coaches , that to-night here mee t ,Many as bees about a s traw-capp

’d hive ,

When first for Apri l honey into faint flowers they dive .

”

566 TH E CAP AN ! ) BELLS .

XXX .

Eban then pa id his fare , and tiptoe wentTo H um’

s hote l ; and , as he on did passWith head inclin’d , each dusky lineament

Show’d in the pear l-pav’d s tree t , as in a glass ;H is purple vest , that ever peeping wasRich from the fluttering crimson of his cloak ,H is s i lvery trowsers , and his s ilken sashT ied in a burnish

’d knot , the ir semblance took

Upon the mirror’d walls , wherever he m ight look .

XXXI .H e smil

’d at se lf, and , sm i l ing , show’d his teeth ,

And see ing his whi te teeth , he smil’d the more ;

Lifted his eye-brows , spurn’

d the pa th beneath ,Show’d tee th aga in , and smil’d as heretofore ,

Until he knock’d at the magic ian’s door ;Where , t il l the porter answer’d , m ight be seen,

I n the clear pane l more he could adore ,

H is turban wrea th’

d of gold , and whi te , and green,

Mustachios , ear-r ing , nose- ring , and his sabre keen .

XXXI IDoes not your mas ter gi ve a rout to-night ?Quoth the dark page . Oh , no !

”return

’d the Swiss ,

Ne x t door but one to us , upon the right ,The M aga z z

'

n der Modes now open is

Aga ins t the Emperor’s wedding ;— and , sir , thisMy master finds a monstrous horrid bore ;As he retir

’d , an hour ago I wis ,With his bes t beard and brimstone , to e xplore

And cas t a quiet figure in his second floor .

XXXI I I .Gad he

’s ob lig

’d to stick to bus iness

For cha lk , I hear , stands at a pre tty pr ice ;And as for aqua vitae— there’s a mess

(XXX) End ing his quotat ion with line of this stanza , H unt says The

tact here is so nice , of a l l the infirmities w ich a re like ly to be se t our poor oldfriend , that we should only spo i l it to say more.

"


Nor rested till they stood to cool , and fan ,

And brea the themse lves at th’ Emperor’s chamber door,When Eban thought he heard a soft imperia l snore .

XXXVI I .I thought you guess’d , fore told , or prophesy’d,

That’s Majesty was in a raving fit ? ”H e dreams , sa id H um , or I have ever lied ,

Tha t he is tear ing you , sir , bit by bi t .”H e

’s not as leep ,

and you have l it tl e wit ,”Reply

’d the page ; that l i tt le buzz ing noise ,Whate’er your palm is try may make of it ,Comes from a play- thing of the Emperor

’s choice ,

From a Man-Tiger-Organ , prett iest of his toys .

”

XXXVI I I .Eban then usher

’

d in the learned SeerE lfinan

’s back was turn

’d , but , ne’ertheless ,

Both , prostra te on the carpet , ear by ear,Crept silently , and wa i ted in dis tress ,Knowing the Emperor’s moody bi tterness ;Eban especially , who on the floor ’

gan

Tremble and quake to death , he feared lessA dose of senna- tea or nightmare Gorgon

Than the Emperor when he play’d on his Man-T iger-Organ .

XXXIX .

They kiss’d nine times the carpe t’s ve lve t faceOf glossy s ilk , soft , smooth , and meadow-

green ,

Where the close eye in deep rich fur m ight traceA s i lver tissue , scantly to be seen ,

As da is ies lurk’d in June -

grass , buds in green ;Sudden the mus ic ceased , sudden the handOf majes ty , by dint of pass ion keen ,

D oubled into a common fis t , went grand ,And knock’d down three cut glas ses , and his bes t ink-s tand .

XL.

Then turning round , he saw those trembling twoEban ,

”sa id he , as s laves should tas te the fruits

(XL) The word tbe before nex t day in l ine 4 m ight b e introduced with tole raab le confidence ; but the poet m ight have preferred to se t the me tre right by introducing best before suits.

TH E CAP AND BELLS . 569

Of dil igence , I shal l remember youTo—morrow, or ne x t day, as time sui ts

,

I n a finger conversat ion with my mutes ,Begone

— for you , Cha ldean ! here rema in !Fear not , quake not , and as good wine recruitsA conjurer’s sp ir its , wha t cup wi l l you dra in ?

Sherry in s i lver , hock in gold , or glass’d champagne ? ”

XLI .

Commander of the fa i thful answer’d H um ,

I n preference to these , I ’ll mere ly tas teA thimble - full of old Jama ica rum .

A s imple boon ! ” sa id Elfinan ; thou may’s tH ave Nantz , wi th which my morn ing-Coffee

’s lac

’d .

”

I’ll have a glass of Nantz , then ,

”— sa id the Seer ,Made racy (sure my boldness is misplac’dWith the third part (ye t that is drinking dear ! )

Of the leas t drop of creme de cz’

tron , crystal clear .

”

XLI I .I pledge you , H um ! and pledge my deares t love ,My Bertha ! Bertha ! Bertha ! ” cry

’d the sage ,I know a many Berthas Mine’s aboveAl l Berthas s ighed the Emperor .

“ I engage ,”Said H um , in duty , and in vassa lage ,To mention a ll the Berthas in the earth ;There’s Bertha Watson ,

- and M iss Bertha Page ,

This fam’d for languid eyes , and that for m irth ,There’s Bertha B lount of York , and Bertha Knox of Perth .

”

XLI I I .You seem to know I do know, answer

’d H um ,

Your Majes ty’s in love with some fine g irlNamed Bertha ; but her surname wi ll not come ,

(XLI ) As a note to the word laced in l ine 5 , previous ed it ions have the fo l lowing sentence from T/t e Specta tor Mr. Nisby is of op in ion tha t laced coffee is

b ad for the head .

” Whe ther the note is from Keats'

s manuscript or supp l ied bythe ed itor does not appear.

(XLI I I ) One of the few points of vivid interest in this poem is the. strange con

nexion ,by name and p lace ,

Bertha and Canterbury, with the wonderfu l fragm ent,

so ful l of earnest meaning and high poetic intention, Tbc Eve of St.M ar k. See

a lso stanza LVI .


Without a little conjur ing . Tis Pearl ,’Tis Bertha Pearl ! Wha t makes my bra in so Whir l ?And she is softe r , fa irer than her name

Where does she l ive ? ” ask’d H um . H er fa ir locks

So brightly , they put al l our fays to shame !

Live ? O at Canterbury , wi th her old grand-dame .

XLIV.

Good ! good ! cried H um , I ’ve known her from a child !

She is a Change l ing of my management ;She was born a t m idnight in an Indian wild ;H er mother’s screams wi th the s triped t iger’s blent ,While the torch-bearing s laves a hal loo sentInto the jungles ; and her pa lanquin ,

Res ted am id the desert’s dreariment ,Shook with her agony , t ill fa ir were seen

The l i ttle Bertha’s eyes ope on the s tars serene .

XLV.

I can’t say, sa id the monarch ; tha t may beJus t as i t happen’d , true or el se a barnD rink up your brandy , and sit down by me ,

Feel , fee l my pulse , how much in love I am ;And if your science is not all a sham ,

Te ll me some means to ge t the lady here .

Upon my honour ! ” sa id the son of Cham ,

She is my da inty Change l ing , near and dear ,Al though her s tory sounds a t firs t a li ttle queer .

”

XLV I .Convey her to me , H um , or by my crown ,

My sceptre , and my cross—surmounted g lobe ,

(XLV) I n Lord H oughton’

s ed itions appears the fo l lowing footnote to the wordC/zam in l ine 7 Cham is sa id to have been the inventor of magic. Lucylearnt this from Bayle ’

s D ict iona ry, and had cop ied a lon La tin note from thatwork.

”

I f this is a note of Kea ts'

s,it wou ld seem to imp ly t a t a pa rt of his scheme

wa s to have the work a ttributed to Lucy Vaughan L loyd ,and ostens ibly ed ited and

annota ted by som e one e lse,—fo l low ing the p lan adopt ed in tha t same year 1 820

by his fr iend Reyno lds in regard to that c lever book “The Fancy : A Se lect ion from

the Poetica l Rema ins of the late Pe ter Corcoran ,of G ray's I nn, Student a t Law.

W ith a brief m emo ir of his Life (Taylor and H essey) .

57 2 TH E CAP AND BELLS .

S ire , this is Bertha Pearl’s neat handy-work ,H er name , see here , Midsummer , ninety

-one.

”

Elfinan snatch’d i t with a sudden jerk ,

And wept as if he never would have done ,

H onouring wi th roya l tears the poor homespun ;Whereon were broider’d tigers with black eyes ,And long- tail’d pheasants , and a ris ing sun ,

Plenty of pos ies , great s tags , butterfl iesBigger than s tags ,

—a moon , wi th other mys teries .

LI .

The Inonarch handled o’er and o’er aga in

Those day-school h ieroglyphics with a s igh ;Somewha t in sadness , but pleas ’d in the ma in,

T i ll th is oracular couple t met his eye

As tounded Cupid , 1 do tbee defyI t was too much . H e shrunk back in his chair ,G rew pale as death , and fa inted very nigh !Pho ! nonsense ! ” exclaim

’d H um , now don’t despair ;She does not mean i t rea lly . Cheer up , hearty there !

LI I .

And l isten to my words . You say you won’t ,

On any terms , marry Miss Be llanaine ;I t goes aga ins t your conscience good We ll , don’t .You say you love a mortal . I would fa inPersuade your honour’s highness to refra inFrom peccadilloes . But , S ire , as I say,Wha t good would tha t do ? And , to be more plain,

You would do me a m ischief some odd day,

Cut off my ears and hands , or head too , by my fay!

LI I I .Bes ides , manners forbid tha t I should pass any

Vile strictures on the conduct of a princeWho should indulge his genius , if he has any,Not , l ike a subject , fool ish matters m ince .

Now I think on’t , perhaps I could convince

Your Majesty there is no crime at all

TH E CAP AND BELLS . 57 3

I n loving pretty l i tt le Bertha , s inceShels very deli ca te , not over tall ,

A fa iry’s hand , and in the wa is t why very small .”

LIV .

Ring the repeater , gentle H um ! ” ’Tis five ,”

Sa id gentle H um ; the nights draw in apace ;The l ittle birds I hear are all al ive ;I see the dawning touch’d upon your face ;Shall I put out the candles , please your Grace ? ”Do put them out , and , without more ado ,

Te ll me how I may that swee t girl embrace ,H ow you can bring her to me. That’s for you,

Great Emperor ! to adventure , l ike a lover true .

”

LV .

I fe tch her ! ” Yes , an’t l ike your Majes ty ;

And as she would be frighten’d wide awakeTo trave l such a distance through the sky,Use of some soft manoeuvre you mus t make ,For your conven ience , and her dear nerves’ sake ;N ice way would be to bring her in a swoon ,

Anon , I’ll te l l wha t course were bes t to take ;

You mus t away this morning .

” H um so soon ?

S ire , you mus t be in Kent by twe lve o’clock at noon .

”

LVI .

At this great Caesar s tarted on his feet ,Lifted his wings , and s tood a ttent ive -wise .

Those wings to Canterbury you mus t beat ,I f you hold Bertha as a worthy pri ze .

Look in the Almanack Moor e never l iesApril the twenty-fourth , this com ing day,Now brea thing its new bloom upon the skies ,Will end in S t . Mark’s Eve ; you mus t away,

For on that eve alone can you the ma i d convey .

”

LVI I .Then the magician solemnly ’

gan to frown ,

So that his frost-white eyebrows , beetling low,

Shaded his deep green eyes , and wrinkles brown


Pla i ted upon his furnace -scorched browForth from his hood tha t hung his neck be low,

H e l ifted a bright casket of pure gold ,Touch

’d a spring- lock , and there in wool or snow,

Charm’d into ever freezing , lay an old

And legend-leaved book , mys terious to behold .

LVI I I .Take this same book , it wi l l not bite you , Sire ;

There , put it undernea th your royal arm ;Though it’s a pre tty we ight i t wi l l not tire ,But ra ther on your journey keep you warmThis is the magic , this the poteflt charm ,

Tha t shal l drive Bertha to a fainting fitWhen the time comes , don’t fee l the leas t alarm ,

But l ift her from the ground , and swift ly fl i tBack to your palace .

What shall I do with tha t same book ?Lay i t on Bertha’s table , c lose bes ideH er work-box ,

and ’twi l l he lp your purpose clearly ;I say no more .

” Or good or ill bet ide ,

Through the wide air to Kent this morn I gl ideExclaim

’d the Emperor . When I return ,

Ask what you wil l , I’ll give you my new bride

And take som e more wine , H um ;— O H eavens ! I burn

To be upon the wing ! Now,now, that m inx I spurn~ l

Leave her to me , rejoin’d the magian

But how shal l I account , illustrious fay !For th ine imperial absence ? Pho ! I canSay you are very s ick , and bar the wayTo your so loving court iers for one day ;I f e ither of the ir two archbishops’ gracesShould ta lk of e x treme unct ion , I sha l l sayYou do not l ike cold pig wi th La t in phrases ,Whi ch never shoul d be used but in a larm ing cases .

”

57 6 TH E CAP AN D BELLS .

Light flags stream out l ike gauzy tongues of fire ;A me tropol i tan murmur , lifeful , warm ,

Comes from the northern suburbs ; rich att ireFreckles wi th red and gold the moving swarm ;While here and there clear trumpe ts blow a keen alarm.

LXV .

And now the fa iry escort was seen clear ,Like the old pageant of Aurora’

s tra in ,

Above a pearl-bui lt m ins ter , hover ing near ;Firs t wi ly Crafticant , the Chamberla in ,

Bal anc’d upon his grey-grown pinions twain ,

H is s lender wand officia lly reveal’d ;Then black gnomes s cattering s ixpences l ike ra in ;Then pages three and three ; and next , s lave -he ld ,

The I maian ’scutcheon bright , one mouse in argent

LXVIGentlemen pens ioners ne xt ; and after them ,

A troop of winged Jani zaries flew ,

Then s laves , as presents bearing many a gem ;Then twe lve phys icians fluttering two and two ;And ne xt a chapla in in a cassock new ;Then Lords in wa it ing ; then (wha t head not ree lsFor pleasure ?) the fa ir Princess in full view,

Borne upon wings , and very pleas’d she fee lsTo have such splendour dance a ttendance at her hee ls .

LXVI I .For there was more magnificence behindShe wav’d her handkerchief. Ah,

very grandCry

’d Elfinan , and clos

’d the window-blind ;And , H um , we mus t not sh il ly- sha lly s tand ,

Adieu ! adieu ! I ’m off for Angle- land !I say, old H ocus , have you such a thingAbout you , fee l your pockets , I command ,I want , this ins tant , an invis ible r ing ,

Thank you , old mummy ! now secure ly I take wing .

”

LXVI I I .Then Elfinan swift vaul ted from the floor,And lighted graceful on the window-sil l ;

TH E CAP AN D BELLS .

Under one arm the mag ic book he bore ,The other he could wave about a t wi l l ;Pale was his face , he s till look’d very i llH e how

’d a t Be llanaine , and sa id Poor Be llFarewell ! farewel l ! and if for ever ! s ti llFor ever fare thee we ll - and then he fe ll

A laughing ! snapp’d his fingers shame i t is to

LXIX .

By’r Lady ! he is gone cries H um , and I

( I own i t) have made too free wi th his wine ;Old Crafticant wil l smoke me . By

- the-bye

This room is ful l of jewe ls as a m ine ,D ear valuable creatures , how ye shineSometime to-day I mus t contr ive a m inute ,I f Mercury propitious ly incl ine ,To exam ine his scrutoire , and see what ’s in i t ,

For of superfluous diamonds I as we l l may thin i t.

LXX.

The Emperor’s horr id bad ; yes , that’s my cue ! ”

Some histories say tha t this was H um’s last speech ;

That , be ing fuddled , he went ree l ing throughThe corridor , and s carce upright could reachThe sta ir-head ; tha t be ing glutted as a leech ,And us

’d , as we ourse lves have jus t now sa id ,To manage s ta irs reverse ly , l ike a peachToo r ipe , he fe ll , be ing puzzled in his headWith l iquor and the s taircase : verdict f ound stone

LXXI .This as a falsehood Craftic’

anto trea ts ;And as his s tyle is of s trange e legance ,Gentle and tender , ful l of soft conce its ,(Much like our Boswe ll’s , ) we wi l l take a glanceAt his swee t prose , and ,

if we can , make danceH is woven periods into care less rhyme ;

0, l i ttle faery Pegasus ! rear— prance

Trot round the quarto ordinary t ime

March , little Pegasus , with pawing hoof sublime !

57 7


I

LXXI I .We ll , let us see , tem‘ft book and cbapter m

’

ne,

Thus Crafticant pursues his diary’Twas twe lve o

’clock at night , the weather fine ,La ti tude thirty- six ; our scouts descryA fl ight of s tarl ings making rapidlyTowards Thibe t . Mem . birds fly in the night ;From twe lve to half-pas t wings not fit to flyFor a thick fog the Princess sulky qu i te ;

Call’d for an extra shawl , and gave her nurse a bite .

LXXII I .Five m inutes before one — brought down a mothWith my new double -barre l stew

’

d the th ighsAnd made a very tolerable brothPr incess turn’d da inty , to our great surprise ,Alter’d her m ind , and thought it ve ry nice ;See ing her pleasant , try’d her wi th a pun ,

She frown’d ; a mons trous owl across us fl ies

About this t ime , a sad old figure of fun ;Bad omen this new match can’

t be a happy one .

LXXIV .

From two to half-pas t , dusky way we made ,Above the pla ins of Gobi, desert , bleak ;Behe ld afar off, in the hooded shadeOf da rkness , a great mounta in (s trange to speak) ,Spi tt ing , from forth its sulphur-baken peak ,A fan- shap

’d burs t of blood-red , arrowy fire ,Turban’d wi th smoke , which s till away did reek ,Sol id and black from tha t e ternal pyre ,

Upon’

the laden winds that s cantly could respit e.

LXXV.

Jus t upon three o’clock a fal l ing s tar

Created an a larm among our troop ,

Kil l’d a man-cook , a page , and broke a jar ,A tureen , and three dishes , at one swoop ,

Then pass ing by the princess , s inged her hoop


I t bodes i l l to his Majesty (referTo the second chapter of my fort ie th book ,And see wha t hoity- toi ty a irs she took) .

At half-pas t four the morn essay’d to beam

Sa luted , as we pass’d , an early rookThe Princess fe l l as leep , and , in her dream ,

Ta lk’d of one Mas ter H ubert , deep in he r es teem .

LXXX .

About this t ime , making de l ightful way,Shed a quil l- fea ther from my larboard wingWish’d , trusted , hop’d ’

twas no s ign of decayThank heaven , I

’m hearty yet ’twas no such thing

At five the golden l ight began to spring ,

With fiery shudder through the bloomed eas t ;At six we heard Panthea’s churches ringThe city all his unhiv’d swarms had cas t ,

To watch our grand approach , and ha il us as we pass’d.

LXXXI .As flowers turn the ir fa ces to the sun,

So on our fl ight with hungry eyes they ga ze ,And , as we shap

’

d our course , this , tha t way run,

With mad- cap pleasure , or hand-clasp’d amaze ;Swee t in the air a m ild- ton’d mus ic plays ,And progresses through its own labyrinthBuds ga ther’d from the green spring’

s m iddle -days ,They scatter’d , da isy , primrose , hyac inth ,

Or round white columns wrea th’d from cap ital to pl inth .

LXXXI I .Onward we floated o’er the panting streets ,

That seem’d throughout wi th uphe ld faces paved ;Look where we wi ll , our bird’s - eye vis ion mee tsLegions of hol iday ; bright s tandards waved ,And fluttering ens igns emulous ly cravedOur m inute’s glance ; a busy thunderous roar ,

From square to square , among the buildings raved,As when the sea , at flow, gluts up once more

The craggy hollowness of a wild reefed shore .

TH E CAP AN D BELLS .

LXXXI I I .And Bellanaine for ever ! ’ shouted they ,While that fa ir Pr incess , from her winged chair,

Bow’d low wi th high demeanour , and , to pay

The ir new-blown loyal ty wi th guerdon fa ir ,S till emptied at mee t distance , here and there ,A plenty horn of jewe ls . And here I(Who wish to g ive the devil her due) ‘declareAga inst tha t ugly p iece of ca lumny ,Which ca lls them H ighland pebble -s tones not worth

LXXX IV.

S til l Bellanaine they shouted , while we gl ide’S lant to a l ight Ion ic portico ,

The city’s de l i cacy , and the pr ideOf our Imper ial Bas il ic ; a row

Of lords and ladies , on each hand , make showSubm issive of knee -bent obe isance ,All down the steps ; and , as we enter

’d , lo !

The stranges t s ight the mos t unlook’d-for chanceAll things turn’d topsy- turvy in a devi l’s dance .

LXXXV .

’S tead of his anx ious Majes ty and courtAt the open doors , wi th wide saluting eyes ,Congees and scrape -graces of every sort ,And a ll the smooth rout ine of ga llantr ies ,Was seen , to our immodera te surprise ,A motley crowd thick gather’d in the hall ,Lords , scul l ions , deputy-scull ions , wi th wild criesS tunning the ves tibule from wa l l to wa ll ,Where the Chief Just ice on his knees and hands doth crawl.

LXXXVICounts of the palace , and the s tate purveyor

Of moth’s-down , to make soft the royal beds ,The Common Counci l and my fool Lord MayorMarching a - row, each other s l ipshod treads ;Powder

’d bag-wigs and rufl

'

y- tuffy heads

Of cinder wenches meet and soi l each other ;


Toe crush’d with hee l i l l-na tur’d fighting breeds ,Frill-rumpl ing e lbows brew up many a bother ,And fis ts in the short ribs keep up the ye ll and pother.

LXXXVI I .A Poe t , mounted on the Court-Clown’

s back,Rode to the Pr incess swift with spurring hee ls ,And close into her face , wi th rhym ing clack ,Began a Protha lam ion ; she ree ls ,She fa l ls , she fa ints while laughter peelsOver her woman’s weakness . Where cry

’d I ,Where is his Majes ty ? N0 person fee lsI nclin

’d to answer ; wherefore ins tant lyI plung’d into the crowd to find him or to die .

LXXXVI I I .Jostl ing my way I gain’d the stairs , and ran

To the firs t landing , where , incredible !I met , far gone in l iquor , that old man,

That vile impos tor H um .

So far so well ,For we have prov’d the Mago never fellD own s ta irs on Crafticanto’s evidence ;And therefore duly shal l proceed to te ll , ’

Pla in in our own origina l mood and tense ,The seque l of this day, though labour ’

tis immense !

Lord H oughton notes that No more was wr itten. I t is worth po int ing out

that the words The seque l of this day,by no means unnoteworthy

,occur a lm os

‘

l ite ra lly in a very noble context in the Poet Laureate’

s M or te d'

Ar thur. The finalturned commas hithe rto p rinted a t the c lose of this stanza of cours e be long to thefourth line , where they mark the end of the long extract from Crafticant’s journal.

N ON SENSE VERSES .

”

SONNET TO MRS . REYNOLD S’S CAT .

CAT ! who has [ t] pas s’d thy grand clima

gc] teric ,

H ow many m ice and ra ts has t in thy ays

D es troy’d ? H ow many tit bi ts s tolen ? Ga ze

With those bright languid segments green , and prickThose ve lve t ears — but pr

’ythee do not s tickThy la tent talons in me — and upra iseThy gent le mew— and te ll me al l thy frays

Of fish and m ice , and ra ts and tender chick .

Nay, look not down , nor l ick thy da inty wris tsFor a ll the whee zy asthma , and for all

Thy ta i l’s tip is nick’

d and though the fis tsOf many a ma id has gi ven thee many a maul ,

Sti ll is tha t fur as soft as when the l istsI n youth thou enter

’

dst on glass bottled wa ll .

A GALLOWAY SONG .

AH ken ye what I me t the dayOut oure the Mounta ins

A com ing down by cragg i [e] s greyAn moss ie founta ins

A [h] goud ba ir’d Marie yeve I prayAne m inute’s guess ing

For that I met upon the wayI s pas t e xpress ing .

As I s tood where a rocky brigA torrent crossesI sp ied upon a m isty rigA troup 0

’H orses

And as they trotted down the glenI sped to m ee t themTo see if I m ight know the Men

To s top and gree t them .

Firs t Will ie on his s leek mare cameAt canting ga llop

H is long ha ir rus t led like a flame

On board a sha llop .

Then came his brother Rab and thenYoung Peggy’s M i ther

N ON SEN SE VERSES .

”

585

And Peggy too - adown the glenThey went togitherI saw her wrappit in her hoodFra wind and ra in ing

H er cheek was flush wi’ tim id bloodTwixt growth and waning

She turn’d her dazed head full oft

For there her BrithersCame riding wi th her Bridegroom softAnd mony ithers .

Young Tam came up an’eyed me quick

With reddened cheekBraw Tam was daffed like a chickH e coud na speak

Ah Marie they a re a ll gane hame

Through blustering weatherAn

’every heart is full on flame

An’ l ight as fea ther .

Ah Marie they are al l gone hameFra happy wedding ,

Whil st I Ah is i t not a shame ?Sad tears am shedding .

BEN NEVIS : A D IALOGUE .

’

I‘HERE was one Mrs . Cameron of 50 years of age

‘

and the fa ttes twoman in a ll l nvernessshire who got up this Mounta in some

few years ago true she had her servants but then she had her

se lf. She ought to have hired S isyphus , Up the high hill heheaves a huge round— Mrs . Cameron .

” ’Tis sa id a l ittle conversa

t ion took place between the mounta in and the Lady . After tak ing a

glass of W [h] iskey as she was tolerably sea ted at ease she thusbegan . .

MRS . C .

Upon my Life Sir Nevis I am p ique’dTha t I have so far panted tugg’d and reek’d

To do an honour to your old ba ld pateAnd now am s i tting on you jus t to hate ,

Without your paying m e one compl iment .Alas ’

tis so wi th a ll , when our intentI s pla in , and in the eye of a ll MankindWe fair ones show a preference , too blind !

586 N ON SEN SE VERSES .

”

You Gentle man immediately turn ta ilO let me then my hapless fa te bewa i lUngrateful Ba ldpate have I not disdain’d

The pleasant Val leys have I not madbrain’dD eserted al l my P ickles and preservesMy China close t too with wretched NervesTo boot— say wre tched ingra te have I notLe [fj t my soft cushion cha ir and caudle pot .

’Tis true I had no corns no thank the fa tesMy Shoemaker was a lways Mr . Bates .

And if not Mr . Bates why I ’m not old !

S till dumb ungrateful Nevis _ sti ll so cold !H ere the Lady took some more w [h] iskey and was putting evenmore to her l ips when she dashed [it] to the G round for the Mounta inbegan to grumble which cont inued for a few m inutes before he thusbegan ,

BEN NEVI S .

What whining bit of tongue and Mouth thus daresD is turb my s lumber of a thousand years ?Even so long my s leep has been se cure

And to be so awaked I ’ll not endure .

Oh pa in for s ince the Eagle’s earl ies t screamI’ve had a dam [nj

’d confounded ugly dream ,

A N ightmare sure . Wha t Madam was i t you ?I t cannot be My old eyes are not trueRed-Crag , my Specta cles ! Now le t me see !

Good H eavens Lady how the gem iniDid you get here ? O I shall spl i t my s ides !I sha ll earthquake

MRS . C .

Sweet Nevis do not quake , for though I loveYou [r] honest Countenance all things aboveTruly I should not l ike to be convey

’d

So far into your Bosom— gentle Ma idLoves not too rough a treatment gentle SirPray thee be calm and do not quake nor s tirNo not a S tone or I shal l go in fits

BEN NEV I SI mus t— I shal l— I meet not such tit bitsI m ee t not such swee t creatures eve ry dayBy my old night _

cap night cap night and day

N ON SEN SE VERSES .

”

TWO OR THREE .

WO or three Pos iesWith two or three s implesTwo or three Noses

With two or three p implesTwo or

-three wise menAnd two or three ninny’sTwo or three purses

And two or three guineasTwo or three raps

At two or three doorsTwo or three naps

Of two or three hoursTwo or three CatsAnd two or three mi ceTwo or three spra ts

At a very grea t pri ceTwo or three sandiesAnd two or three tabbiesTwo or three dandiesAnd two Mrs .

Two or three Sm ilesAnd two or three frownsTwo or three MilesTo two or three townsTwo or three pegsFor two or three bonne tsTwo or three dove eggs

To ha tch into sonne ts .

mum ?

AN EXTEMPORE .

H EN they were come into the Faery’s CourtThey rang — no one a t home — al l gone to

And dance and kiss and love as faerys doFor Faries be as humans lovers trueAm id the woods they were so lone and wi ldWhere even the Robin fee ls himse lf exil’dAnd where the very books as if afl raid

H urry al ong to some less mag ic shade .

N0 one at home ’ ! the fre tful pr incess cry’d

N UNSENSE VERSES .

”

And al l for nothing such a dre [a] ry r ideAnd all for nothing my new diamond crossNo one to see my pers ian feathers tossNo one to see my Ape , my Dwarf, my FoolOr how I pace my Otahe i tan mule .

Ape , Dwarf and F001 why stand you gaping thereBurst the door open , quick or I declareI’ll switch you soundly and in p ieces tear .

’

The Dwarf began to tremble and the Ape

Star’d at the F001 , the F001 was all agape

The Princess grasp’d her swi tch but just in timeThe Dwarf wi th pi teous face began to rhyme .

O m ighty Pr incess did you ne’er hear te ll

What your poor servants know but too too we llKnow you the three great crimes in faery landThe firs t a las ! poor Dwarf I unders tandI made a whipstock of a faery’s wandThe ne x t is snoring in the ir companyThe ne x t the las t the dires t of the threeI s making free when they are not a t home .

I was a Prince a baby pr ince my doomYou see , I made a whips tock of a wandMy top has henceforth s lept in faery land .

H e was a Prince the FOO1 , a grown up PrinceBut he has never been a King’s son s inceH e fe ll a snoring at a faery Ba llYour poor Ape was a Pr ince and he poor th ingPicklock’d a faery’s boudour now no kingBut ape so pray your highness stay awhile’Tis sooth indeed we know it to our sorrow

Pers is t and you may be an ape tomorrow

While the Dwarf spake the Pr incess a ll for sp itePeal

’d the brown ha ze l twig to l i lly white

Clench’d her small tee th , and he ld her l ips apart

Try’d to look unconcerned wi th beat ing heart .

They saw her highness had made up he r m indAnd quaver

’d l ike the reeds before the windAnd they had had i t , but O happy chanceThe Ape for very fear began to danceAnd grin’d as a ll his uglyness did acheShe sta id her vi xen fingers for his sakeH e was so very ugly : then she tookH er pocke t m irror and began to lookFirs t at herself and [ then] a t him and thenShe smil

’d a t her own beauteous face aga in .

N ONSEJVSE VERSES .

”

Yet for all this for all her pretty faceShe took it in her head to see the p lace .

Women ga in l i ttle from e xperienceE i ther in Lovers , husbands or e xpense .

The more their beauty the more fortune tooBeauty before the wide world never knew.

So each fair reasons tho’ i t oft m iscarr ies .

She thought her pre tty face would please the fa [e] ries .

My darl ing Ape I wont whip you todayG ive me the P icklock s irrah and go play .

”

They all three wept but counse l was as va inAs crying cup biddy to drops of ra in .

Ye t l ingering ly did the sad Ape forth drawThe P icklock from the Pocke t in his Jaw .

The Princess took i t and dismounting s tra ightTrip

’d in blue silver

’d s l ippers to the ga te

And touch’d the wards , the Door full courteous ly

Opened she enter’d wi th her servants three .

Aga in i t clos’d and the re wa s nothing seen

But the Mul e grasing on the herbage green.

End of Canto xii

Canto the x ii iThe Mule no sooner saw himse lf aloneThan he prick’d up his Ears and sa id well done !At leas t unhappy Prince 1 may be free

No more a Prince ss shall s ide saddle me

0 King of Othaie te tho’a Mule

Aye every inch a King tho’ Fortune’s fool .’

We l l done for by what Mr . Dwarfy sa idI would not g ive a s i xpence for her head .

’

Even as he spake he trotted in high gleeTo the knot ty s ide of an old Pol lard treeAnd

'

rub’d his s ides aga ins t the mossed barkT il l his G irths burst and left him naked starkE xcept his Bridle how get rid of tha tBuckled and tied wi th many a twis t and pla i t .At last i t s truck him to pretend to s leepAnd then the thievish Monkies down would creepAnd fl lch the unpleasant tramme ls qui te away .

No sooner thought of than adown he laySham

’d a good snore the Monkey-m en descendedAnd whom they thought to injure they befriendedThey hung his Bridle on a topmost boughAnd of[f] he went run, trot , or anyhow

CONTENTS OF TH E APPEND IX .

Review by Le igh H unt of Keats’s firs t volume of Poems

1 8 1 7Fohr son)nets from Le igh H unt’s Foliage .

Sonne t written on the blank leaf of Kea ts ’s Poems ( 1 8 1 7 )by Charles Oll ier .

Let ter from Mess rs . C . J . Oll ier to G eorge Kea ts con

cern ing Kea ts ’s PoemsReview of Endymion published in The Qua r ter ly Review

in 1 8 1 8 .

Review of Endymion and Lamia &c . , published in The

Edinburgh Review in 1 820 .

Review by Le igh H unt of Lamia , I sabella &c .

Later Remarks on Kea ts by Le igh H unt .Boccacc io’s S tory of Isabe l la , in Engl ish by John Payne .

The sad d it ty born of the S tory of Isabe lla .

E xtract from Clarke’s Riches of Cha ucer as to the compos it ion of the Sonne t on The Flour e a nd the Lef e .

John H am il ton Reynolds’s Robin H ood Sonnets .

”

Le tter from Benjam in Robert H aydon concerning the

Sonnets on the E lg in Marbles .

Sonne ts from Le igh H unt’s Foliage— M il ton’s H a ir .

The N i le Sonnets of Le igh H unt and She lley .

Sonnet on D a r k Eyes by John H am il ton Reynolds .

Sonnet by Ronsard .

La Be lle D ame Sans Mercy ; a paper by Le igh H unt , fromThe I ndica tor .

REVIEW OF KEATS’S

FIRST VOLUME OF POEMS ( 1 8 1 7 )WR I TTEN BY LE I GH H UNT

and published in The Examiner for the 1 st of yune and the 6th

and 1 3th of yu ly 1 8 1 7 .

H I S is the production of the young wr i ter , whom we had the pleasure of announc ing to the public a short t ime s ince , and severa l ofwhose Sonne ts have appeared meanwhile in the Examiner with

the signature of J . K . From these and s tronger evidences in the bookitse lf, the readers wi ll conclude that the author and his crit i c are per

sona l friends ; and they are so ,—made however , in the ' first ins tance ,

by nothing but his poetry , and at no greater distance of t ime than theannouncement above-mentioned . We had pub l ished one of his Son

nets in our paper , wi thout knowing more of him than any other anonymous correspondent ; but at the period in ques t ion , a friend broughtus one morning some copies of verses , which he sa id were from the

pen of a youth . We had not been led , general ly speaking , by a goodH unt refe rs in the opening sentence to an artic le ent it led Young Poe ts , which

had appeared in The E xaminer for the r st of D ecembe r 1 8 1 6. The last of the seyoung a sp irants whom we have m e t with , he says , and who prom ise to he lp the

new schoo l to revive Na ture and

T0 put a Sp ir it of youth in every thing ,

is,we be l ieve

,the younge st of them a ll . H is name is John Keats . H e ha s not

ye t published anything e xcept in a newspape r ; b ut a se t of his manuscripts washanded us the othe r day,

and fa irly surprised us with the tru th of the ir ambit ion,

and a rdent grappl ing w1 th Na ture . H unt then prints the sonne t on Chapman’

s

H omer,with the further remarks quoted a t page 46. The sonne t which had been

pub lished in The E x aminer be fore H unt'

s introduction to the se t of m anuscriptswa s tha t g iven a t page 5 1 . Those published be twe en the rst o f D ecember 1 8 1 6

and the rst of June 1 8 1 7 in The E x aminer we re the sonne ts to Kosc iusko ,

“After

dark vapors, on the E lg in Marbles and to H aydon,and on The Flour e and the

59 4 APPEN D I X.

dea l of e xperience in these ma tters , to e xpect p leasure from introduc

t ions of the kind , so much as pa in ; but we had not read more than a

dozen l ines , when we recogni zed a young poe t indeed .

”

I t is no longer a new observa tion , tha t poe try has of la te years un

dergone a very grea t change , or ra ther , to speak properly , poetry hasundergone no change , but some thing which was not poe try has madeway for the re turn of some thing which is . The school which e x istedt il l late ly s ince the res tora tion of .Charles the ad , was rather a schoolof wit and e th ics in verse , than any th ing e lse ; nor was the verse ,

wi th the e xcept ion of D ryden’s , of the bes t order . The authors , it is

true , are to be he ld in great honour . G rea t wit there certa inly was ,

e xce llent satire , e xce llent sense , pi thy sayings ; and Pope distilled as

much rea l poe try as could be got from the drawing- room world inwhich the art then l ived , from the flowers and luxuries of art ific iall ife , into that e xqu is i te l it tle toi le t-bottle of essence , the Rape of theLoch . But there was l i ttle imag ina t ion , of a h igher order , no intensefee l ing of na ture , no sentiment , no rea l mus ic or varie ty . E ven the

wri ters who gave evidences meanwhile of a truer poe t ica l faculty ,G ray , Thomson , Akenside , and Coll ins himse lf, were content with a

great deal of second-hand workmanship , and with fa lse s tyles made upof other languages and a ce rta in kind of inverted cant . I t has beenthought that Cowper was the firs t poe t who re -opened the true way tonature and a natura l s tyle ; but we hold this to be a m istake , aris ingmere ly from certa in negat ions on the part of tha t am iable but by no

means powerful wri ter . Cowper’s s tyle is for the mos t part as inve rted

and artificia l as tha t of the others ; and we look upon him to havebeen by na ture not so great a poe t as Pope : but Pope ,

from certa ininfirmities on his part , was thrown into the soc ie ty of the world , andthus had to get wha t he could out of an art ific ia l sphere Cowper ,

from other and more distress ing infirmities , (which by the way the

wre tched supers tit ion tha t undertook to heal , only burnt in upon him )was confined to a s till smaller though more natura l sphere , and in

tru th did not much with i t , though quite as much perhaps as was to be

e xpected from an organi zat ion too sore a lmos t to come in contact wi thany th ing.

I t was the . Lake Poets in our opinion (howe ver grudg ingly we sayi t , on som e accounts) - that were the firs t to revive a true taste fornature ; and l ike mos t Revolut ionis ts , espec ia lly of the cas t whichthey have s ince turned out to be , they went to an e x trem e , ca lcu la tedrather a t firs t to make the readers of poe try disgus ted wi th origina l ityand adhere wi th contempt and resentment to the ir maga zine com

monplaces . This had a bad effect a lso in the way of t e -act ion ; and

none of those wr iters have ever s ince been able to free them se lvesfrom certa in s tubborn affectations , which having been ignorantly

59 6 APPEN D I X.

impress ions ; and wherever he has turned hitherto , he has evidentlyfe l t them deeply .

The very faults indeed of Mr . Keats ar ise from a pas sion for beaut ies ,

and a young impa t ience to vindicate them ; and as we have ment ionedthese , we shal l refer to them a t once . They may be comprised intwo ;

— firs t , a tendency to not ice every thing too indiscrim inate lyand without an eye to na tura l proport ion and effect ; and second , asense of the proper varie ty of versification without a due cons idera tionof its principles .

The former error is vis ible in several parts of the book , but chieflythough m i xed wi th great beaut ies in the Ep ist les , and more be tweenpages 28 and where are collected the author’s ea rl iest p ieces ,some of which , we think , m ight have been om itted , espec ia lly the

s tring of mag is tra te - interroga tories about a she ll and a copy of verses .

See a lso (p . 6 1 )2 a comparison of wine poured out in heaven to the

appearance of a fal l ing star , and (p . 62)3 the s ight of far- seen foun~

ta ins in the same reg ion to s ilver s treaks across a dolphin’s fin .

” I twas by thus g iv ing way to every idea tha t came across him , thatMarino , a man of rea l poe t ica l fancy , but no judgm ent , corrupted thepoe try of I ta ly ; a catast rophe , wh ich however we by no means ant icipate from our author , who with regard to this point is much more

deficient in age than in good taste . We sha l l present ly have to noticepassages of a reverse nature , and the se are by far the mos t numerous .

But we warn him aga ins t a faul t , which is the more tempt ing to a youngwri ter of genius , inasmuch as i t involves something so oppos ite to thecontented common-

place and vague general i t ies of the late school ofpoetry . There is a super

-abundance of de ta i l , which , though not no

want ing , of course , in power of perception , is as faulty and unseason

able some t imes as common-

place . I t depends upon c ircum s tances ,

whe ther we are to cons ider ourse lves near enough , as it were , to thesubject we are describing to grow m icroscopica l upon i t . A personbasking in a landscape for instance ,

'

and a person riding through it ,are in two very different s ituat ions for the exerc ise of the ir eyes ight ;and even where the l icense is mos t a llowable , care must be taken not

to g ive to sma l l things and great , to nice de ta i l and to genera l fee l ing ,

the same proport ion of effect . Errors of this kind in poetry answer

to a want of perspect ive in pa int ing , and of a due distribut ion of

l ight and shade . To give an e xcess ive instance in the former art ,

there was D enner , who cop ied face s to a nice ty amounting to a

horr ible want of i t , l ike Brobdignagian visages encountered byGull iver ; and who , according to the facet ious Peter P indar ,

Make a bird’s beak appear a t twenty m i le .

1 Tha t is to say, the poem s occupying pages I I to 23.

3 Page 35. Page 35.

LE I GH H UN T ’S RE VI EW OF TH E 1 8 1 7 VOLUME . 59 7

And the same kind of spec imen is afforded in poe try by D arwin , a

writer now a lmost forgotten and des ervedly , but who did good in his

t ime by mak ing unconscious caricatures of al l the poe t ical fau lts invogue , and flatter ing himse lf tha t the sum total went to the account of

his orig ina l genius . D arwinwould descr ibe a dragon-fly and a l ion inthe same terms of proport ion . You did not know which he wouldhave scrambled from the sooner . H is p ictures were l ike the two

penny shee ts which the l i ttle boys buy, and in which you see J Jackdaw and K King , both of the same dimens ions .

Mr . Kea ts’s other faul t , the one in his versification , ar ises from a

similar,cause ,

— tha t of contradicting over- zea lous ly the fault on the

oppos ite s ide . I t is this wh ich provokes him now and then into m ere

roughnesses and discords for the ir own sake , not for tha t of var ie tyand contrasted harmony . We can manage , by subst i tuting a greaterfeel ing for a sma ller , a l ine l ike the following :

I sha ll rol l on the grass wi th two-fold ease ;but by no contrivance of any sort can we prevent this from jump ingout of the heroic m easure into mere rhythm ica l ity , ‘

H ow many bards g ild the lapses of t imeWe come now however to the beauties ; and the reader wil l eas i ly

perce ive tha t they not only outnumber the faults a hundred fold , butthat they are of a nature decidedly opposed to wha t is fa lse and inhar

monious . The ir character ist ics indeed are a fine ear , a fancy and

imaginat ion a t wi ll , and an intense fee l ing of e x terna l beauty in it’s

mos t na tura l and leas t e xpress ible s impl ic i ty .

We sha ll give some specimens of the leas t beauty firs t , and concludewi th a noble e x tract or two that wi l l shew the s econd , as we ll as the

powers of our young poe t in genera l . The harmony of his verses wi l lappear throughout .

The first poem cons ists of a piece of luxury in a rura l spot , endingwith an a llus ion to the story of Endym ion ,

and to the origin of otherlove ly ta les of mythology , on the ground suggested by Mr . Wordsworthin a beaut iful passage of his Excur sion . H ere , and in the otherlarges t poem , which c loses the book , Mr . Kea ts is seen to his bestadvantage , and displays a ll that fert i le power of associat ion and imagerywhich const i tutes the abstract poe t ical facu lty as dis t inguished fromevery other . H e wants age for a grea ter knowledge of human ity , butevidences of this a lso bud forth here and there .

— To come howeverto our specimens .

The firs t page of the book presents us with a fancy , founded , as all

59 8 APPEND I X.

beautifu l fancies are , on a s trong sense of wha t real ly e x is tsH e is speaking of

A gentle Air in S olitude .

There creptA l it tle noiseless noise among the leaves ,Born of the very s igh tha t s i lence heaves .

Young Tr ees .

There too should beThe frequent chequer of a youngl ing tree ,

Tha t wi th a score of l ight green bre thren shootsFrom the quaint moss iness of aged rootsRound which is heard a spring-head of clear waters .

Any body who has seen a throng of young beeches , furnishing thosena tura l clumpy seats a t the root , mus t recognise the truth and graceof this description . The rema inder of this part of the poem , especia l lyfrom

Open afresh your round of s tarry folds ,Ye ardent mar igolds

down to the bo ttom of page 5, affords an e xquis ite proof of c lose ob

serva t ion of na ture as wel l as the mos t luxur iant fancy .The Moon .

Lift ing her s i lver rimAbove a cloud , and with a gradual swimCom ing into the blue wi th all her l ight .

Fir trees grow around ,Aye dropp ing the ir hard fru i t upon the ground .

This las t l ine is in the taste of the G reek s impl ic i ty .

The dark silent blueWith al l it’s diamonds trembling through and through .

S ound of a Pipe .

And some are hear ing eagerly the wildThril ling l iquidity of dewy p ip ing .

600 APPEND I X.

With him , sa id I , wi ll take a pleasant charm ;I t cannot be tha t ought wi l l work him harm .

” l

And we can only add , wi thout any disrespect to the graver warmthof our young poe t , that if Ought a ttempted it , Ought would find hehad s tout work to do with more than one person .

The following passage in one of the Sonne ts passes , with greathappiness , from the mention of phys ical as sociat ions to menta l ; and

concludes with a fee l ing which mus t have s truck m any a contemplat ivem ind , that has found the sea- shore l ike a border , as it were , of ex

is tence . H e is speaking of

The Ocean .

The Ocean wi th it’s vas tness , it’s blue green ,

I t’s ships , it’s rocks , it’s caves , it

’s hopes , it’s fears ,

I t’s vo ice myster ious , which whoso hearsMust think on what wi ll be , and wha t has been .

We have read somewhere the remark of a trave ller , who sa id tha twhen he was wa lking a lone a t night- t ime on the s ea - shore , he fe l t conscious of the earth , not as the common every day sphere it seems , but

as one of the planets , roll ing round with him in the m ightiness of

space . The same fe el ing is common to imaginations tha t are not in

need of s im i lar local e xc i tements .

The bes t poem is certa inly the las t and longes t , entit led S leep and

Poetry . I t originated in s leeping in a room adorned wi th bus ts and

pictures , and is a strik ing specimen of the res tlessness of the youngpoe tical appe t i te , obta ining its food by the very des ire of i t , and glancing for fit subjects of crea t ion “ from earth to heaven .

” Nor do we

l ike it the less for an impat ient , and a s it may be thought by som e ,

irreverend as saul t upon the la te French school of cri t icism and mono t

ony, which has he ld poe try cha ined long enough to render i t some

what indignant when it has got free .

The following ardent passage is highly imaginat ive :An Aspir a tion af ter Poetry.

0 Poesy for thee I gra sp my penTha t am not yet a glorious deni zenOf thy wide heaven ; ye t , to my a rdent prayer ,Yie ld from thy sanctuary some c lea r air , &c .

2

1 1 have om itted ten l ines from H unt’

s quo tat ion b ut see page 4 1 .

3 H unt , it wi l l b e seen,took the l ibe rty of compre ss ing his quo ta tion by s i lent ly

om itt ing seven l ine s and p ie c ing two fragments of l ines . H e cont inued the quotat ionfor twenty-e ight l ines more : see pages 53 and 54 .

LE I GH H UN T ’S RE VI EW OF TH E 1 8 1 7 VOLUME . 60 1

Mr . Kea ts takes an opportunity , though with very different feel ingstowards the school than he has e xhibited towards the one above -men

tioned , to object to the morbidity that ta ints the productions of the

Lake Poets . They m ight answer perhaps , genera lly , tha t they chuseto grapple wi th what is unavoidable , rather than pre tend to be blindto i t ; but the more sm i l ing Muse may reply , tha t ha lf of the evilsa lluded to are produced by brooding over them ; and tha t i t is muchbe tter to s tr ike a t as many ca uses of the res t as poss ible , than to pre

tend to be satisfied with them in the m idst of the mos t evidentdissat isfact ion .

H a Poetry Pr ef er r ed .

These things are doubt less : yet in truth we’ve hadStrange thunders from the potency of song ;M ingled indeed wi th wha t is swee t and s trong ,

From majesty : but in clear truth. the them es

Are ugly cubs , the Poe ts Polyphemes

D isturbing the grand sea . A dra inless showerOf l ight is poesy ; ’

tis the supreme of power ;’Tis m ight ha lf s lumb’ring on its own r ight arm .

The very archings of her eye- l ids charm

A thousand wi l l ing agents to obey .

And st i ll she governs with the m i ldes t swayBut s trength a lone though of the Muses bornI s l ike a fa llen ange l ; trees uptorn ,

D arkness , and worms , and shrouds , and sepulchresD elight it ; for i t feeds upon the burfs

And thorns of l ife ; forgett ing the great endOf poesy , tha t it should be a friendTo soothe the cares , and l ift the thoughts of man .

We conclude with the beg inning of the paragraph which follows thispassage , and which conta ins an idea of as lovely and powerful a

nature in embodying an abstract ion , as we ever remember to haveseen put in words :

Ye t I rejoice : a myrtle fa irer thanE

’er grew in Paphos , from the bitter weeds

Lift’s it’s swee t head into the air , a nd f eedsA silent space with euer spr outing gr een .

Upon the whole , Mr . Keats’s book cannot be better described thanin a couple t wr itten by M i lton when he too was young , and in whichhe evidently a llude s to h im self. I t is a l itt le luxuriant heap of

Such s ights a s youthful poe ts dreamOn summer e ves by haunted s tream .

602 APPEND I X.

FOUR SONNETS FROM LE IGH HUNT’S FOLIAGE .

TO JOH N KEATS .

’

TI S we ll you think me truly one of those ,

Whose sense discerns the lovel iness of things ;For sure ly as I fee l the bird tha t s ings

Behind the lea ves , or dawn a s i t up grows ,Or the r ich bee rejoic ing as he goes ,Or the glad issue of emerging springs ,Or overhead the gl ide of a dove’s wings ,Or turf, or trees , or , m ids t of al l , repose .

And sure ly as I fee l things lovel ier sti ll ,The human look , and the harmonious formConta ining woman, and the sm i le in i l l ,And such a heart as Charles’s wise and warm ,

As sure ly as al l this , I see , ev n now,

Young Keats , a flowering laure l on your brow.

ON RECE I VI NG A CROWN OF I VY FROM THE SAME .

ACROWN of ivy ! I subm i t my headTo the young hand tha t g ives i t , young ,

’tis

But wi th a right , for ’tis a poe t’s too .

H ow pleasant the leaves feel ! and how they spreadWith the ir broad angles , l ike a nodding shedOver both eyes and how comple te and new,

As on my hand I lean , to fee l them s trew

My s ense wi th freshness , Fancy’s rus tl ing bedTress - toss ing g irls , wi th smel l of flowers and grapes

Come danc ing by , and downward p iping cheeks ,And up

- thrown cymbals , and S i lenus old

A lthough it may not b e stric tly re levant , it wi l l inte rest some readers to know thatthese sonne ts a re transcribed for the p resent appendix from Kea ts

’

s own copy ofFoliag e ; or Poems Origina l and Tr ans lat ed ,

by Leig h H unt bea ring 1 1 n

the t it le-page ,in H unt

’

s beau t ifu l wr it ing ,the word s

“ohn eats from his a cc

tionate fr iend the Author.

” Kea ts gave the book to iss Brawne ; and it is now in

my possess ion .

1 H unt notes Char le s C. C . [Cowden Clarke] , a mutua l fr iend.

604 APPEND I X.

SONNET .

WR I TTEN ON TH E BLANK LEAF OF KEATS’S POEMS ( 1 8 1 7 ) BY

CH ARLES OLL I ER .

KEATS I adm ire thine upward daring Soul ,Thine eager grasp at immortal i tyI deem wi th in thy reach ; rejoic

’d I see

Thee spurn , with brow serene , the gross controulOf circums tance , while o

’er thee vis ions roll

I n radiant pomp of love ly Poesy !She points to bles t abodes where spirits free‘

Feed on her sm i les and her grea t name e x tol .S til l shal l the pure flame bright wi thin thee burnWhile nature

’s voice a lone directs thy m ind ;

Who bids thy speculation inward turnAssuring thee her transcript thou sha lt find .

Live her’s l ive freedom’s friend so round thine

The oak shal l wi th thy laure ls be entwin’d .

LETTER FROM MESSRS . C . J . OLLIER TO GEORGE

KEATS CONCERN ING KEATS ’S POEMS

Reprinted f r om The Athena’um f or the 7 ih of yune 1 8 7 3 .

I R ,—We regre t that your brother e ver reques ted us to publishbook , or that our opinion of its ta lent should have led us

acquiesce in undertaking it . We a re , howe ver ,you for re l ieving us from the unpleasant nece ss ity of declconne x ion wi th it , which we must have done , as we th

is sat isfied , and the sa le haspersons who have purchasedp la in terms , tha t we have in

TH E QUARTERLY RE VI EW ON END YM I ON . 605

rather than be annoyed wi th the ridicule which has , time after time ,been showered upon i t . I n fact , i t was only on Saturday last tha t wewere under the mortification of having our own Op inion of its m eri tsflat ly contradicted by a gentleman

, who told us he cons idered it no

better than a take in .

’These are unpleasant imputa t ions for any one

in bus iness to labour under , but we Should have borne them and con

cealed the ir e x istence from you had not the style of your note Shewnus that such de l icacy would b e qui te thrown away . We sha l l takem eans wi thout de lay of ascerta ining the number of cop ies on hand ,and you sha ll be informed accordingly .

Your most , etc .

C . J . Oll ier .

3, We lbeck S tree t , 29 th Apr i l , 1 8 1 7 .

REVIEW OF ENDYM ION .

.

Published in the Qua r ter ly Review .

REVIEWERS have somet imes been accused of not reading the

works which they affected to crit ic ise . On the present occas ionwe sha ll anticipate the author’

s compla int , and honestly confessthat we have not read his work . Not tha t we have been want ing inour duty— far from it— indeed , we have made efforts a lmos t as superhuman a s the story 1 tself appears to b e ,

to ge t through it ; but with thefulles t s tretch of our perseverance , we are forced to confe ss that wehave not been able to s truggle beyond the firs t of the four books of

which this Poet ic Romance cons ists . We shou ld e x treme ly lam entthis want of energy , or whate ver it may be , on our parts , were it not

for one consolat ion— nam ely , that we are no be tte r acqua inted withthe m ean ing of the book through which we have so pa infully toi led ,than we are wi th that of the thre e which we have not looked into .

I t is not tha t Mr . Kea ts , (if that be his rea l name ,for we a lmost

doubt tha t any man in his sense s would put his real name to such arhapsody , ) it is not , we say, that the author has not powers of

language ,rays of fancy , and gleams of gen ius he has a ll these ; but

he is unhapp i ly a disciple of the new school of what has been some

This is the review immorta l ized,as fa r a s things ha te fu l can b e ,

by She lley in hisAdonais . I t is a cur ious ly unimporta nt p roduct ion ; b u t it is we l l tha t it shou ld b e inevidence . I t appea re d in N o . XXXV I I of the review ,

headed “ Ap ri l , 1 8 1 8 on

page I,b u t descr ibed on the wrappe r a s pub lished in Sep tember,

606 APPEND I X.

whe re ca lled Cockney poetry ; which may be defined to cons is t of themos t incongruous ideas in the mos t uncouth language .

Of th is school , Mr . Le igh H unt , as we observed in a former Numbe r ,aspires to be the hierophant . Our readers wil l recollect the pleasantrecipes for harmonious and sub l ime poe try which he gave us in his

preface to Rim ini ’ and the s t i l l more face t ious instances of his har

mony and sublim ity in the verses themse lves ; and they wi ll recollectabove all the contempt of Pope , Johnson , and such l ike poetas ters and

pseudo- cri tics , which so forc ibly contras ted itself with Mr . Le ighH unt’s self-complacent approba t ion of

all the things itse lf had wrote ,Of spec ia l meri t though of l it tle note .

’

This author is a copyis t of Mr . H unt ; but he is more uninte ll igible ,

a lmos t as rugged , twice as diffuse , and ten t ime s more t iresome and

absurd than his prototype , who , though he impudent ly presumed to

seat himse lf in the cha ir of crit icism , and to measure his own poe tryby his own standard , yet genera lly had a meaning . But Mr . Keatshad advanced no dogmas which he wa s bound to support by e xamples ;his nonsense the refore is qui te gra tuitous ; he writes it for its own sake ,

and , be ing bitten by Mr . Le igh H unt’s insane cri t icism , more thanr iva ls the insani ty Of his poe try .

Mr . Keats’s preface hints that his poem was produced under pe culiarc ircums tances .

Knowing with in myse lf (he says ) the manner in which this Poemhas been produced , it is not wi thout a fee l ing of regre t tha t I make itpublic .

“ What manne r I mean , wil l be quite clea r to the reader , whomust soon pe rce ive great ine xpe rience , immatur i ty , and e very error

denot ing a feve rish attempt , ra ther than a deed accomplished .

’

Pr ef a ce , p . vi i .We humbly beg his pa rdon , but this does not appear to us to be

quite so clea r — we real ly do not know wha t he means but the ne x tpassage is more inte ll igib le .

The two firs t books , and indeed the two las t , I fee l sens ible are not

of such comple tion as to warrant the ir pas s ing the press .

’— P reface ,p . vn .

Thus ‘ the two firs t books are , even in his own judgment , unfi t toappear , and the two las t ’ are , it se em s , in the same condit ion and

as two and two make four , and as tha t is the Whole number of books ,we have a clear and , we be l ieve , a very just es t imate of the entire

work .

Mr . Keats , however , deprecates crit ic ism on this ‘ immature and

feverish work in terms which are themse lves suffic iently feverish ; and

608 APPEND I X.

Of brightness so unsull ied , that thereinA me lancholy sp iri t we ll m ight winOblivion , and me lt out his e ssence fine

Into the winds : ra in- scented eglantineGave tempera te swee ts to that we ll -wooing sun ;The lark was lost in him ; cold springs had run

To warm the ir chill iest bubbles in the grass ;Man

’s vo ice was on the mountains ; and the mass

Of nature’s l ives and wonders puls ’

d tenfold ,To fee l th is sunrise and its glories old .

’

p . 8 .

H ere Apollo’sfir e produces a pyr e , a s i lvery prye of clouds , wher eina sp iri t might win Oblivion and me l t his essence fine , and scentedeglantine gives swee ts to the sun , and cold springs had r un into the

gr a ss , and then the pul se of the mass pulsed tenfold to fee l the gloriesold of the new-born day, &c .

One e xample more .

Be sti ll the unimaginable lodgeFor sol i tary think ings ; such as dodgeConcept ion to the very bourne of heaven ,

Then leave the naked bra in : be s t il l the leaven ,

That spreading in this dull and clodded earthG ives i t a touch e thereal — a new birth .

’

p . 1 7 .

Lodge. dodge— heaven , leaven— ea r th , bir th such , in six words ,

is the sum and substance of six l ines .

We come now to the author’s taste in versification . H e cannotindeed write a sentence , but perhaps he may be able to spin a l ine .

Let us see . The following are spec imens of his prosodial notions of

our Eng l ish heroic m etre .

D ear as the temple’s se lf, so does the moon ,

The pass ion poesy , glories infinite .

’

p . 4 .

So plenteous ly al l weed-hidden roots .

’

p . 6.

Of some s trange history , potent to send .

’ —p . 1 8 .

Before the deep intox icat ion .

’

p . 27 .

H er scarf into a flutter ing pav i l ion .

’—p . 33 .

The stubborn canvass for myvoyage prepared p. 39 .

TH E QUARTERLY RE VI EW ON END YM/ON . 609

Endym ion ! the cave is secre terThan the is le of D e los . Echo hence shal l s tirNo s ighs but s igh-warm k isses , or l ight no iseOf thy combing hand , the while i t travel l ing cloysAnd trembles through my labyrinthine ha ir .

” —p . 4 8 .

By this time our readers mus t b e pre tty we l l satisfied as to the

meaning of his sentences and the s tructure Of his l ines : we now

present them with some of the new words wi th which , in im ita t ion of

Mr . Le igh H unt , he adorns our language .

We are told tha t ‘ turtles pa ssion the ir voices , ’ (p . that ‘an

arbour was nested ,

’

(p . and a lady’s locks ‘

gordian’d up ,

’

(p . and to supply the place of the nouns thus verba l i zed Mr .

Kea ts , wi th grea t fecundity , spawns new ones ; such as‘men- s lugs

and human serpentry ,

’

(p . the ‘ honey-f eel of bliss , ’ (p .

wives prepare needments ,’

(p . I 3)— and so forth .

Then he has form ed new verbs by the process of cutting off the irnatura l ta i ls , the adve rbs , and affi x ing them to the ir foreheads ; thus ,‘ the wine out- Sparkled , ’ (p . the mult itude up

- fol lowed , ’ (p .

and n ight up- took , ’ (p . The wm d up

-b lows , ’ (p .

and the hours are down-sunken ,

’

(p .

But if he s inks some adverbs in the verbs he compensa tes the

language with adverbs and adject ives which he separates from the

parent stock . Thus , a lady ‘whispers pa nting ly and close , ’ makeshushing s igns , ’ and steers her skiff into a ripply cove ,

’

(p . 23) a

shower fa lls r ef r eshf u lly ,

’

(4 5) and a vulture has a spr eaded ta il ,’P 44 °

But e)nough of Mr . Le igh H unt and his s imple neophyte . I f any

one should be bold enough to purchase this Poet ic Romance ,

’and

so much more patient , than ourse lves , as to get beyond the firs t book ,and so much more fortunate as to find a meaning , we entreat him to

make us acqua inted with his success ; we sha l l then return to the

task which we now abandon in de spa ir , and endeavour to make a ll

due amends to Mr . Keats and to our readers .

6 1 0 APPEND IX.

REVIEW OF ENDYM ION AND LAMIA &c .

Published in the ‘Edinburgh Review .

WE had never happened to see e ither of these volumes ti ll verylately— and have been e xceedingly s truck wi th the gen ius theydisplay , and the spirit of poe try which breathes through al l the ir

e xtravaga nce . That im itation of our older wri ters , and espec ia l ly ofour older drama tis ts , to which we cannot he lp flattering ourse lves thatwe have somewhat contr ibuted , has brought on , as it were , a secondspring in our poe try ; and few of its blossoms are either more profuse

of swee tness or r icher in prom ise , than this which is now before us .

Mr . K eats , we unders tand , is st il l a very young man ; and his wholeworks , indeed , bear evidence enough of the fact . They are full ofe xtra vagance and irregulari ty , rash attempts a t origina l ity , interm inablewanderings , and e xcess ive Obscurity . They manifes tly require , therefore , all the indulgence that can be cla imed for a firs t a ttempt : but

we think it no less pla in that they deserve i t ; for they are flushed all

over wi th the rich lights of fancy , and so coloured and bestrewn withthe flowers of poe try , that even while perp le xed and bewi ldered inthe ir labyrinths , i t is imposs ible to res is t the intox ication of the irsweetness , or to shut our hearts to the enchantments they so lav ishlypresent . The mode ls upon which he has formed himself, in the

Endym ion , the earl ies t and by much the mos t cons iderable of his

poems , a re obvious ly the Fa ithful Shepherdess of Fle tcher , and the

Sad Shepherd of Ben Jonson ; — the exquis i te metres and inspireddict ion of which he has copied with grea t boldness and fide l i ty and ,

l ike his grea t origina ls , has a lso contrived to impa rt to the whole piecethat true rura l and poe t ica l air which bre athes only in them and in

Theocri tus which is a t once home ly and majes t ic , luxurious and rude ,

and se ts before us the genu ine s ights and sounds and sme lls of the

country , wi th a ll the magi c and grace of E lys ium . H is subject hasthe disadvantage of be ing mythologica l ; and in this respect , as we llas on account of the ra ised and rapturous tone it consequentlyassum es , his poetry maybe be tter compared perhaps to the Comus and

the Arcades of M i lton , of which , a lso , there are many traces Of im i tat ion . The great dis t inct ion , however , be tween him and these divineauthors , is , that imag inat ion in them is subordina te to reason and

This review appeared in No . LXV I I of The E dinburgh Review,that for August

1 820,and wa s repr inted in Je ffrey's co l lected essays .

6 I 2 APPEND I X.

dist inguished poe ts of our country have so much else in them to

gra t ify other tas tes and propens it ies , that they are pre tty sure to captiva te and amuse those to whom the ir poetry is but an hindrance and

obs truction , as we ll as those to whom it consti tutes the ir chief attraetion . The interest of the s tories they te ll the vivac ity of the characters they de l inea te — the we ight and force of the ma xims and

sent iments in which they abound— the very pathos and wit and

humour they display , which may all and each of them e xis t apartfrom the ir poe try and independent of it , are qui te sufficient to ac

count for the ir popularity , without referr ing much to that st i l l higherg ift , by which they subdue to the ir enchantments those whose soulsa re a ttuned to the finer impulses of poetry . I t is only where thoseother recommendat ions are want ing , or exis t in a weaker degree , thatthe true force of the a t traction , e xerc ised by the pure poe try wi thwhich they are so often combined , can be fa irly apprec iated— where ,

wi thout much incident or many characters , and wi th li tt le wit ,

wisdom , or arrangement , a number of bright p ictures are presentedto the imagina tion , and a fine fee l ing e xpressed of those mys teriousre lations by which vis ible e xternal th ings are as s im i lated with inwardthoughts and emot ions , and become the images and e xponents of

a ll pas s ions and affect ions . To an unpoe t ical reader such passagesa lways appear mere raving and absurdity— and to this censure a

ve ry great part of the volum e before us wi l l ce rta inly be e xposed withthis class of readers . Even in the judgm ent of a fitter audience .

however , it must , we fear , be adm itted , tha t , bes ides the riot and

e xtra vagance of his fancy , the scope and subs tance of Mr . K.

’s

poe try is rather too dreary and abs tracted to e xc i te the s trongestinteres t , or to sus ta in the a ttent ion through a work of any great compass or e x tent . H e deals too much with shadowy and incomprehen

s ible be ings , and is too constantly rapt into an e x tramundaneE lys ium , to command a las t ing interes t wi th ordinary mortals— and

mus t employ the agency of more varied and coars er emotions , if hewishes to take rank with the seduc ing poe ts of this or of former

genera t ions . There is some thing very curious too , we think , in the

way in which he , and Mr . Barry Cornwa ll a lso , have dea lt with the

Pagan mythology , of which they have made so much use in the irpoe try . Ins tead of present ing its imaginary pe rsons under the tri teand vulgar tra its tha t be long to them in the ordinary systems , l it t lemore is borrowed from these than the genera l concept ion of the irconditions and re lat ions ; and an origina l character and dis t inc t individuality is bes towed upon them , which has a ll the meri t of inven

tion , and all the grace and a tt ract ion of the fict ions on which it isengrafted . The ant ients , though they probably did not s tand in any

great awe of the ir de it ies , have yet absta ined very much from any

RE VI EW OF END YM I OI V, LAM I A , E TC. 6 1 3

m inute or dramati c representation of the ir fee l ings and affect ions .

I n H es iod and H omer , they are coarse ly de l inea ted by some of the iract ions and adventures , and introduced to us mere ly as the agents

in those part icular transact ions ; while in the H ymns , from thoseascr ibed to Orpheus and H omer , down to those of Ca ll imachus , wehave l i ttle but pompous epi thets and invocations , wi th a fla tteringcommemora tion of the ir most famous e xploi ts — and are never al

lowed to enter into the ir bosoms , or fol low out the tra in of theirfee l ings , with the presumption of our human sympathy . E xcept thelove - song of the Cyclops to his Sea Nymph in Theocritus the Lam

entation of Venus for Adonis in Moschus— and the more recent

Legend of Apule ius , we scarce ly recollect a passage in a ll the

writ ings of anti quity in which the pa ss ions of an immorta l are fa irlydisclosed to the scrut iny and observat ion of m en . The author beforeus , however , and some of his contemporar ies , have dea l t different lywi th the subject ;— and , she ltering the violence of the fict ion underthe ancient tradit ionary fable ,

have created and imagined an ent irenew set of characters , and brought close ly and m inute ly before us

the loves and sorrows and perple x it ies of be ings , with whose names

and .supernatura l a t tributes we had long been fam i l iar, without anysense or fee l ing of the ir persona l character . We have more thandoubts of the fi tness Of such personages to ma inta in a permanent

interest with the modern public ; but the way in which they are heremanaged , certa inly g ives them the bes t chance tha t now rema ins forthem ; and , at a ll events , i t cannot be den ied tha t the effect is s tr ikingand graceful . But we mus t now proceed to our e x tracts .

The firs t of the volumes before us is occupied with the loves of

Endym ion and D iana— which it would not be very easy , and whichwe do not a t a ll intend '

to ana lyze in deta i l . I n the beginning of the

poem ,however , the Shepherd Prince is represented as hav ing had

strange vis ions and de l ir ious interviews with an unknown and ce les t ialbeauty ; soon after which , he is ca l led on to pres ide a t a fest ival inhonour of Pan ; and his appearance in the process ion is thus described .

H is youth was ful ly blown ,

Showing l ike Ganymede to manhood grown ;And , for those s imple times , his garments were

A chiefta in k ing’

s : benea th his breast , half-bare ,Was hung a s i lver bugle , and be tweenH is nervy knees there lay a boar- spear keen .

A sm i le was on his countenance ; he seem’d ,

To common lookers on , l ike one who dream’d

Of idleness in groves E lys ianBut there were some who feel ingly could scan

6 I 4 APPEND IX.

A lurking trouble in hfs nether lip ,

And see tha t oftent imes the re ins would sl ipThrough his forgotten hands . pp . 1 I 1 2 .

There is then a chora l hymn addressed to the sylvan de ity , whichappears to us to be full of beauty ; and reminds us , in many places , ofthe fines t s tra ins of S icil ian or English poe try . A part of i t is as

follows .

0 TH OU , whose mighty palace roof doth hang &c .l

The enamoured youth s inks into insens ib il i ty in the m idst of thesolemni ty , and is borne apart and revived by the care of his sis ter ;and , opening his heavy eyes in her arm s , says

I fee l th is th ine endearing loveAll through my bosom : thou art as a cloveTrembling its c losed eyes and s leeked wingsAbout me ; and the pearl iest dew not bringsSuch morning incense from the fie lds of May,As do those brighter drops that twinkling s trayFrom those kind eyes . Then think not thouThat , any longe r , I will pass my daysAlone and sad .

’

H e then te l ls her al l the story of his love and madness ; and is

afterwards led away by butterfl ies to the haunts of Na iads , and bythem sent down into enchanted caverns , where he sees Venus and

Adonis , and great fl ights of Cupids , and wanders over diamond terracesamong beaut iful founta ins and temples and s tatues , and all sorts of

fine and s trange th ings . All this is very fantastical : But there are

splendid pieces of description , and a sort ofwi ld richness on the whole .

We cull a few l itt le morse ls . This is the p icture of the sleeping Adonis .

I n m ids t of all , there lay a s leeping youthOf fondes t beauty . S ideway his face repos

’d

On one white arm , and tenderly unclos’d,

By tenderes t pressure , a fa int damask mouth . &c .”

1 The extract given here cons ists of lines 232 to 24 1 and 247 to a86 of Book I .See pages 7 9 to 8 1 .

2The quo tat ion is given in fu l l thus far as an example of the kind of thing that afriend ly cri tic perm itted h imse lf in 1 820. I t wi l l be seen that the text is ent ire ly

a ltered afte r the word eyes. The quotation extended twenty lines fur ther, end ingwith So mour nful str ang e in l ine 4 9 7 of Book I , See

gage s 88 and 89 .

3 Compa re this a lso with the origina l a t p age s 1 23 an 1 24 . The quotation goeson n ine l ine s further , end ing wi th line 4 1 4 , Book I I ; and then comes the passage

from H ard by (l ine 4 1 8) to the end of l ine 427 (page

6 1 6 APPEN D I X.

Soon she turn’d up a soiled glove , whereon

H er s i lk had play’d in purple phantas ies ,She kiss

’d it with a lip more chil l than s tone ,

And put i t in her bosom , where it dries .

Then ’

gan she work aga in ; nor stay’d her care ,But to throw back at times her ve i l ing ha ir .

That old nurse s tood bes ide her wondering ,

Unti l her heart fe l t pi ty to the core

At s ight of such a disma l labouring ,

And so she knee led , with her locks all hoar ,And put her lean hands to the horrid thing :

Three hours they labour’d a t this trava i l sore ;At las t they fe lt the kerne l of the grave , &c .

1

The following l ines from an ode'

to a N ightingale , are equally distinguished for harmony and fee l ing .

0 for a beaker fu ll of the warm South ,Fu l l of the true , the blushfu l H ippocrene ,

With beaded bubbles winking a t the brim ,

And purple - s ta ined mouth ;That I m ight drink , and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the fores t dimFade far away , dissolve , and qui te forge tWhat thou among the leaves has t never known,

The weariness , the fever , and the fre tH ere , where men sit and hear each other groan ;Where pa lsy shakes a few, sad , las t grey ha irs ,Where youth grows pa le , and spectre

- thin , and dies ;Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden- eyed despa irs .

The voice I hear this pas s ing nigh t was heardI n anc ient days by emperor and clown :

Perhaps the se lf-same song that found a pathThrough the sad heart of Ruth , when , s ick for home ,She stood in tears am id the a l ien corn ;

The same tha t oft- times hathCharm

’d magic easements , opening on the foam

Of peri lous seas , in faery lands forlorn .

2

1 I reta in thus much of the extract as a fine examp le of the art of quo tingmurde rous ly with the best intent ions . S tanza s LI a nd LI I we re a lso g iven here .

1 I t is to b e obse rved tha t,wishing to g ive no m ore of s tanza 3 a ft e r the e

'

hth

l ine,the reviewer p lace s a fu l l-stop ins tea d of a comma a t despair s , and ceifm ly

passes on to the third l ine of stanza 7 without any ind ica tion of a break .

H UN T’S RE VI EW OF LAM I A , I SABELLA , E TC. 6 1 7

We must close our extracts wi th the following l ive ly l ines to Fancy .

0 swee t Fancy ! le t her loose ; &c .l

There is a fragment of a projected Epic , entit led ‘H yperion ,

’on

the e xpuls ion of Saturn and the T i tanian de ities by Jupi ter and hisyounger adherents , of which we cannot advise the comple t ion : For ,though there are passages of some force and grandeur , it is sufficientlyobvious , from the spec imen before us , tha t the subject is too far re

moved from all the sources of human interest , to be successfully trea tedby any modern author . Mr . Keats has unques t ionably a very beaut iful imaginat ion , and a grea t fam i l iarity wi th the finest d ict ion of Engl ish poe try ; but he must learn not to misuse or m isapply theseadvantages ; and ne ither to was te the good gifts of nature and s tudy onintractable themes , nor to luxuriate too ;ecklessly on such as are moresuitable .

TH E STORIES OF LAMIA, TH E POT OF BAS IL, TH E

EVE OF ST . AGNES , &c . , AS TOLD BY MR . KEATS .

A REV I EW BY LE I GH H UNT .2

Published in “ The I ndica tor f or the z ud and 9 th of August 1 820.

IN laying before our readers an account of another new publication ,i t is fortunate that the nature of the work aga in fa lls in wi th the

character of our m isce llany ; part of the object of which is to

re late the s tories of Old times . We sha ll therefore abridge into prose

the s tories which Mr . Keats has told in poe try , only making up for it ,

as we go , by cut ting some of the richest passages out of his verse ,

and fitt ing them in to our p la iner narrat ive . They are such as wouldleaven a much grea ter lump . The ir drops are rich and vi ta l , the es

sence of a heap of ferti le thoughts .

The firs t s tory , entit led Lam ia , was sugges ted to our author by apassage in Burton’s Ana tomy of Me lancholy , which he has e x tractedat the end of it . We wi l l e x tract it here , at the beginning , tha t thereaders may see how he has enriched it . Burton’

s re lation is i tse lf animprovement on the account in Philostratus . The Old book-fighter

1 The l ines quoted a re 9 to 24 and 39 to 66.

2After his second paragraph H unt extracts the quotat ion from Burton given atpage 242.

6 I 8 APPEND I X.

with me lancholy thoughts is speaking of the seductions of phantasmata .

According to our poe t , Mercury had come down from heaven , one

day, in order to make love to a nymph , famous for her beauty . H e

could not find her ; and he was ha lt ing among the woods t uneasily,when he heard a lone ly voice , compla ining . I t was

A mournful voice ,

Such as once heard , in gentle heart , des troysAll pa in but pity : thus the lone vo ice spake .

When from this wreathed tomb sha ll I awake !When move in a swee t body fi t for life ,

And love , and pleasure ,and the ruddy strife

Of hearts and lips ! Ah , miserable me !

Mercury went looking about among the trees and grass ,

Unti l he found a palp itating snake ,

Bright , and c irque - couchant in a dusky brake .

The admira t ion , p ity , and horror , to be e xcited by humani ty in a

brute shape , were neve r perhaps ca l led upon by a greater m ix ture of

beauty and deform ity than in the p icture of this creature . Our pityand susp ic ions are begged by the firs t word : the pro fuse and v ita lbeauties with which she is covered seem proport ioned to her m iseryand natural r ights ; and les t we should lose s ight of them in this gorgeousness , the woman

’s mouth fi lls us a t once with shuddering and

compass ion .

She was a gordian shape of dazzl ing hue ,

Vermill ion- spotted , golden , green , and blue ; &c .

‘

The serpent tells Mercury tha t she knows upon wha t ques t he is

bound , and asks him if he has succeeded . The god ,wi th the usual

eagerness of his spe c ies to have his wi l l , falls into the trap ; and tellsher tha t he wi l l put her in possess ion of any wish she may have a t

heart , provided she,

can te ll him where to find his nymph . As

eagerly , she accepts his prom ise , making him ra tify it by an oa th ,which he first pronounces with an earnes t l ightness , and afterwardswi th a deeper solemnity .

Then once aga in the charmed God beganAn oa th , and through the serpent’s ears i t ranWarm , tremulous , devout , psal terian .

1 H unt continue s his quotat ion down to the end of l ine 63 (see page

620 APPEN D I X.

great danger , persuaded her to have a public wedding-feas t . She onlybegged him not to invite Apol lonius ; and then , resolving to dress upher bri da ls with a sort of despa iring magnificence , equa l to her ap

prehens ions of danger , she worked a fa iry archite cture in secre t , servedonly wi th the noise of wings and a rest less sound of mus ic

A haunting mus ic , sole perhaps and loneSupportress Of the faery- roof

,made moan

Throughout , as fearful the whole charm m ight fade .

This is the very qu intessence of the romant ic . The wal ls of the longvaulted room were covered with palms and plan tain- trees im itated incedar-wood , and mee ting over head in the m iddle of the ce il ing ; between the s tems were jasper pannels , from which “ there burs t forthcreep ing imagery of s l ighter trees ; and before each of these “ luc idpanne ls Fuming s tood

A censer fil led wi th myrrh and spiced wood , &c .1

Twe lve tables s tood in this room , se t round with circular couche s , andon every table was a noble feast and the s tatue of a god .

The guests came . They wondered and ta lked ; but the ir goss ip ingwould have ended we ll enough , when the wine pre va iled , had not

Apollonius , an unbidden guest , come wi th them . H e sat right oppo

s i te the lovers , andFi xed his eye , wi thout a twinkle or

‘

s tirFull on the a larmed beauty of the bride ,

Brow-beating her fa ir form , and troubling her swee t pride .

Lycius fe lt her hand grow a lterna te ly hot and cold , and wonde redmore and more both at her ag itation and the conduct of his old

tutor . H e looked into her eyes , but they looked nothing in return :

he Spoke to her , but she made no answer : by degrees the mus i cceased , the flowers faded away , the pleasure a ll darkened , and

A deadly s i lence s tep by s tep increased ,Unt il it seemed a horr id pre sence the re ,And not a man but fe lt the terror in his ha ir .

The bridegroom at las t shrieked out her name ; but i t was onlyechoed back to him by the room . Lam ia sa t fixed , her face of a

1 H unt adds here l ine s 1 7 8 to 1 82 (see page 226) and,afte r the word s sta tue of

a g od, he quotes lines 1 33 to 1 37 and 1 4 2 to 1 45.

H UN T ’S RE VI EW OF LAM I A , I SABELLA , E TC. 62 1

deadly white . H e cal led in m i xed agony and rage to the philosopherto take off his eyes ; -but Apollonius , refus ing , asked him whe ther hisold guide and I nstructor who had preserved him from all harm to tha tday, ought to see him made the prey of a serpent . A morta l fa intnesscame into the breath of Lam ia a t this word ; she motioned him , as

we ll as she could , to be s ilent ; but looking her s tedfast ly in the face ,

he repeated Serpent and she vanished with a horrible scream . Upon

the same night , died Lycius , and was swathed for the funera l in his

wedding-

garments .

Mr . Kea ts has departed as much from common-

place in the character and moral of this s tory , as he has in the poe try of i t . H e wouldsee fa ir play to the serpent , and makes the power of the philosopheran i ll -na tured and disturbing thing . Lam ia though liable to be

turned into pa inful shapes had a soul of humani ty ; and the poe t doesnot see why she should not have her pleasures accordingly , mere lybecause a phi losopher saw tha t she Wa s not a mathemat ica l truth .

This is fine and good . I t is vindica ting the greater philosophy of

poetry . At the same time , we wish tha t for the purpose of his s toryhe had not appeared to give into the common-

place of suppos ing thatApollonius

’s sophis try mus t a lways preva i l , and that modern experi

ment has done a deadly thing to poetry by discove ring the nature of

the ra inbow, the air , &c . that is to say, tha t the knowledge of na tu

ra l his tory and phys ics , by shewing us the nature of things , doesaway the imaginat ions that once adorned them . This is a condescen

s ion to a learned vulgarism , which so e xce llent a poe t'

as Mr . Kea tsought not to have made . The world wi l l a lways have fine poetry , solong as i t has events , pass ions , affect ions , and a philosophy that seesdeepe r than this phi losophy . There wi ll be a poe try of the heart as

long as there are tearS and sm i les : there wi l l be a poe try of the 1m

agination , as long as the firs t causes of things rema in a mys tery . A

man who is no poe t , may think he is none , as soon as he finds out thephys ical cause of the ra inbow ; but he need not a larm himse lf : he

was none before . The true poe t wil l go deeper . H e wi l l ask him se lfwhat is the cause of that phys ica l cause ; whe ther truths to the senses

are after a ll to be taken as truths to the imagination ; and whe therthere is not room and mystery enough in the universe for the creat ionof infin i te things , when the poor matter-of- fact philosopher has come

to the end of his own vis ion . I t is remarkable that an age of poetryhas grown up with the progress of e xper iment ; and that the verypoets , who seem to countenance these notions , accompany them bysome of the ir fines t effus ions . Even if there were nothing new to be

created , if philosophy , with its l ine and rule , could even score the

ground , and say to poetry “ Thou sha lt go no further ,” she wou ldlook back to the Old world , and s till find i t ine xhaust ible . The crops

622 APPEND IX.

from its ferti l i ty are endless . But these alarms are al together idle .

The essence of poe tica l enjoyment does not cons is t in belief, but ina voluntary power to imag ine .

The ne xt story , that of the Pot of Bas i l , is from Boccaccio . After

the narra tive of that grea t wri ter , we mus t make as short work of it as

poss ible in prose . To turn one of his stories into vers e , is anotherthing . I t is l ike se tting it to a more e laborate mus ic . Mr . Keats isso struck with adm ira tion of his author , that even while g iving him

this accompaniment , he breaks out into an apology to the grea t I tal ian ,

asking pardon for thisEcho of him in the north-wind sung .

We m ight wa ive a repetit ion of the narra t ive altogether, as the publi chave late ly been fam i liari zed wi th it in the S ic i lian S tory of Mr .

Barry Cornwall z l but we cannot help cal l ing to m ind tha t the hero andheroine were two young and happy lovers , who kept the ir love a secre tfrom her r ich brothers ; tha t her brothers , ge tting knowledge of the irintercourse ,

lured him into a sol i tary place , and murdered him ; tha tIsabe lla , informed of i t by a dreary vis ion of her lover , found out

where he was buried , and wi th the ass is tance of her nurse , severedthe head from the body that she m ight cherish even that ghastlmemoria l of him as a re lic ne ver to be par ted wi th ; that she buriedthe head in a pot of earth , and plant ing bas il over i t , wa tered theleaves wi th her cont inual tears t i l l they grew into wonderful beautyand luxuriance ; that her brothers , prying into her fondness for thePot of Bas i l , which she carried wi th her from place to place , con

trived to s tea l i t away ; that she made such lamentations for it , as induced them to wonder what could be its value , upon which they duginto i t , and discovered the head ; that the ama zement of that discoverys truck back upon the ir hearts , so that after burying the head secret ly,they left the ir native place , and went to l ive in another c ity ; and

that I sabel continued to cry and moan for her Pot of Bas il , which She

had not the power to cease wishing for ; ti ll , under the pressure of

that weeping want , she died .

Our author can pas s to the mos t striking imaginations from the mostdel icate and fa iry fancy . H e says of the lovers in the ir happiness ,

Part ing they seemed to tread upon the air,

Twin roses by the zephyrs blown apart1 Tempora mutantur I n 1 820 H unt appe a ls to Procter's Sicilian Story to stand

him in stead for the ta le of I sabe l la . Now the book containing tha t and othe rve rses by Bryan Wa l le r Procter may pe rhaps b e sought by a few students a s a

vene rable cur ios ity, intere s ting for purpose s of compa rison with Keats’

s P ot ofBasil , but scarce ly for its own sake as an examp le how to te l l the pub lic tha tsupreme story.

624 APPENDIX.

the poor lost-witted coax ing ,_ the chuckle ,

” in which she asks afterher P ilgr im and her Bas il , is as true and touching an ins tance of

the effect of a happy fam il iar word , as any in all poetry . The poe tb ids his imagination depart ,For Isabel , swee t Isabel , wi l l dieWill die a death too lone and incomple te ,Now they have ta’en away her Bas i l swee t . ‘

The Eve of S t . Agnes , which is ra ther a p icture than a s tory , maybe ana lysed in a few words . I t is an account of a young beauty , whogoing to bed on the eve in ques t ion to . dream of her lover , whi le herrich k insmen ,

the opposers of his love , are keeping hol iday in the res tof the house , finds herse lf waked by him in the night , and in the hurryof the moment agrees to e lope wi th him . The portra it of the heroine ,preparing to go to bed , is remarkable for its union of e x treme richnessand good tas te ; not tha t those two propert ies of descr iption are

natural ly dis t inct ; but that they are too often separa ted by very goodpoe ts , and that the passage affords a s triking specimen of the suddenand s trong maturi ty of the author’s genius . When he wrote B udymion he could not have res isted doing too much . To the descript ionbefore us , i t would be a great injury e ither to add or dim inish . I t fal lsat once gorgeous ly and de l ica tely upon us , l ike the colours of the

pa inted glass . Nor is Made l ine hurt by all her encrus ting jewe lry andrus t l ing s i lks . H er gent le , unsophist i ca ted heart is in the m idst , andturns them into so many m inistrants to her love l iness .

’

As a specimen of the Poems , which are al l lyri cal , we mus t indulgeourse lves in quoting ent ire the Ode to a N ightingale . There is thatm i x ture in i t of rea l me lancholy and imaginat ive rel ief, which poe trya lone pre sents us in her charmed cup ,

”and

'

which some over-ra tionalcrit ics have undertaken to find wrong because it is not true . I t doesnot follow that what is not true to them , is not true to others . I f the

rel ief is real , the m i x ture is good and sufficing . A poet finds refreshment in his imag inary wine , as other m en do in the ir rea l ; nor havewe the least doubt , that M i l ton found his grief for the loss of his fr iendKing , more solaced by the al legorical recol lect ions of Lycidas , (whichwere e xerc ises of his m ind , and recollec tions of a friend who wouldhave adm ired them) than if he could have anticipated D r . Johnson’

s

1 H unt goes on to quote stanzas LXI I and LX I I I . I n regard to the seem ing misunderstand ing about the p ilgr im ,

see note a t page 262.

2The stanzas here g iven in i l lustra t ion are XXI V to XXV I I ; and H unt mere l addsI s not this pe rfect ly beau t ifu l ? [Want of room compe ls us to break 0 here .

We cannot leave the reader a t a be tter lace . The remainder of the crit ic ism must

occupy the beginning of our next num I t occup ied the whole, as it had ofthat number, being decoratedwith very large extracts,

H UN T ’S REVIEW OF LAM I A , I SABELLA , ETC. 625

objections , and mourned in nothing but broadcloth and matter of fact .H e yearned after the poe tica l as we ll as soc ia l part of his friend’sna ture ; and had as much right to fancy i t straying in the wi lds and

oceans of romance , where i t had strayed , as in the avenues of Christ’sCollege where his body had wa lked . I n the sam e spiri t the imaginat ion of Mr . Keats be takes i tse lf, like the wind , where i t l isteth , ” and

is as truly there , as if his fee t could follow i t . The poem wil l be the

more s tr ik ing to the'

reader , when he unders tands what we take a

friend’s l iberty in tel l ing him , that the author’s powerful m ind has forsome time past been inhabiting a s ickened and shaken body , and

that in the mean while i t has had to contend wi th fee l ings that make a

fine nature ache for its spec ies , even when it woul d disda in to do so

for i tself ; we mean , critical ma l ignity , — tha t unhappy envy , whichwould wreak its own tortures upon others , espec ial ly upon those thatreally fee l for i t already .

l

The H yperion is a fragment , - a g igant ic one , l ike a ruin in the

desart , or the bones of the mastodon . I t is truly of a piece with its sub

ject , which is the downfal l of the e lder gods . I t opens wi th Saturn ,

de throned , s itting in a deep and sol itary valley , benumbed in sp i te of

his huge powers with the amazement of the change .

’

By degrees , the T i tans meet in one spot , to consu lt how they mayrega in the ir lost empire ; but Clymene the gentlest , and Oceanus the

mos t reflective of those earl ier de it ies , tel l them i t is irrecoverable . A

very grand and deep- thoughted cause is ass igned for this by the latter .

Inte llect , he gives them to understand , was inevi tably displac ing a

more brute power .

3

The more imaginat ive parts of the poem are worthy of this sublime

moral . H yperion , the God of the Sun , is the las t to give way ; buthorror begins to Vis i t his old beat i tude with new and dread sensat ions .

The l iving beauty of his pa lace , whose porta ls open l ike a rose , the

awful phmnomena that announce a change in heaven , and his inabil i tyto bid the day break as he was accustomed , - all th is part , in short ,which is the core and inner diamond of the poem , we mus t enjoy withthe reader .

‘

The other T i tans , lying half l ife less in the ir valley of despa ir , arehappily compared toA disma l c irque

Of D ruid s tones , upon a forlorn moor ,

1 This passage (fo llowed by the entire Ode to a N zgr/z ting a le) must not b e for

gotten in cons idering the effect of Tlze Quar ter ly Review a rt icle upon Kea ts . H unt

was int imate enough with Keats to know very we ll wha t he was ta lking abou t.2This paragraph is fol lowed by the first 4 1 l ines of HWer z

‘

on .

8 H ere H unt quote s from Gr ea t Sa turn ,t/zou

,in l ine 1 82 of Book I I

,to l ine 1 90,

and from l ine 202 to D arkness in l ine 2 1 5.

The passage here quoted is from s pa lace br ight in l ine 1 7 6 of Book I to line

626 APPEND I X.

When the chil l rain begins at shut of eve ,

I n dull November , and the ir chance l vaul t ,The H eaven i tse lf, is blinded throughout n ight .

The fragment ends with the deification of Apollo . I t s tr ikes us

that there is some thing too effeminate and human in the way in whichApollo rece ives the e xa l tation which his wisdom is giving him . H e

weeps and wonders somewhat too fondly ; but his powers ga ther noblyon him as he proceeds . He e xclaims to Mnemosyne , the Goddess of

Memory ,Knowledge enormous makes a God of me ,

Names , deeds , gray legends , dire events , rebell ions ,Majes ties , sovran voices , agonies ,Creat ions and destroyings , all a t once

Pour into the wide hol lows of my brain ,

And de ify me , as if some blithe wineOr bright e l i x ir peerless I had drunk ,And so become immortal .

After this speech , he is se i zed with a g low of asp iration , and an

intens i ty of pa in , proportioned to the causes tha t are changing him ;

Mnemosyne upholds her arms , as one who prophes ied ; andAt length

Apollo shrieked and 10 ! from all his l imbsCe les t ia l

H ere the poem ceases , to the grea t impat ience of the poe ti ca l reader .

I f any l iv ing poe t could finish this fragment , we be l ieve it is the

author himse lf. But perhaps he fee ls that he ought not . A s torywhich involves pass ion , a lmos t of necess i ty involves speech ; and

though we may we ll enough describe be ings greater than ourse lves bycompar ison , unfortunate ly we cannot make them speak by compar ison .

Mr . Keats , when he firs t introduces Thea consol ing Sa turn, says that

she spokeSome mourning words , which in our feeble tongueWou ld come in the se l ike accents ; 0 how fra i lTo that large ut terance of the early Gods i

This grand confess ion of want of grandeur is all that he could do forthem . M i lton could do no more . Nay, he did less , when according toPope he made

God the father turn a school divine .

628 APPEND I X.

the exuberances of his imagination res tra ined , and a calm power , the

sures t and loft ies t of all power , takes place of the impatient workingsof the younger god with in him . The character of his genius is thatof energy and voluptuousness , each able at will to take leave of the

other , and possess ing , in the ir union , a high fee l ing of humani ty not

common to the bes t authors who can les s combine them . Mr . Kea tsundoubtedly takes his sea t wi th the oldest and bes t of our l iving poe ts .

We have carr ied our crit ic ism to much greater length than we ih

tended ; but in truth , wha tever the crit i cs m ight think , i t is a refreshment to us to get upon other people’s thoughts , even though the rogues

be our contemporaries . Oh ! how l itt le do those m inds ge t out of

them se lves , and what fertile and heaven-breath ing prospects do theylose , who think that a man mus t be confined to the m i l l-path of his

own homestead , mere ly tha t he may a void see ing the abundance of

his ne ighbours ! Above all , how l i ttle do they know of us e terna l ,week ly , and sem i-week ly writers ! We do not mean to say that it isnot very pleasant to run upon a smooth road , see ing what we l ike ,and talking wha t we l ike ; but we do say, tha t i t is pleasanter thanall , when we are tired , to hear what we l ike , and to be lulled withcongen ia l thoughts and higher mus ic , ti ll we are fresh to s tart aga inupon our journey . What 'we would not g ive to have a be tter E xam ine rand a be tter Indicator than our own twice every week , utter ing our

own though ts in a finer manner , and al tering the world fas ter and

better than we can a lter it H ow we shoul d l ike to read our presentnumber , five t imes bet te red ; and to have noth ing to do , for years andyears , but to pace the green lanes , forge t the tax-

gatherer , and ventourselves now and then in a verse .

V I I I .

LATER REMARKS ON KEATS BY LE IGH HUNT .

‘

EATS was born a poe t of the mos t poe tica l kind . All his feelings came to him through a poetical medium , or were speedi lyco loured by it . H e enjoyed a jes t as heart i ly as any one , and

s ympathized with the lowl ies t commonplace ; but the ne x t m inute histhoughts were in a garden of enchantment with nymphs , and fauns ,

and shapes of e xal ted humani ty ;E lys ian beauty , me lancholy grace '

.

I n I mag ination and Fancy ( 1 844 ) H unt gave as a se lect ion from Keats’s poe tryT/ze Eve Of S t. Agnes some three pages of ex tracts from Endymion and Hwerion.

H UN T ’S LATER REMARKS ON KEATS . 629

I t m ight be sa id of him , that he never behe ld an oak- tree without seeing the D ryad . H is fame may now forgive the cr it ics who dis l ikedhis pol it ics , and did not understand his poetry . Repea ted edi t ionsof him in England , France , and America a ttest its triumphant surviva lof all obloquy ; and there can be no doubt that he has taken a perma .

nent stat ion among the Brit ish Poets , of a very high , if not thoroughlymature , description .

Kea ts’s early poetry , indeed , partook plentifully of the e xuberanceof youth ; and even in most of his later , his sens ibility , sharpened bymorta l i llness , tended to a morbid excess . H is region is a wi lderness of sweets ,

” — flowers of a ll hue , and“ weeds of glor ious feat

where ,as he says , the luxur iant soi l br ingsThe p ipy hem lock to s trange overgrowth .

But there a lso is the ra in-scented eglant ine , and bushes of Mayflowers , with bees , and myrtle , and bay,— and end less paths into

forests haunted with the love l ies t as we ll as gent les t be ings ; and the

gods l ive in the dis tance , am id notes of majest ic thunder . I do not

say. that no surfe i t is ever there ; but I do , that there is no end of

the nectared swee ts .

” I n wha t other Engl ish poe t (however supe

rior to him in other respects) are you so cer tain of never open ing a

page without l ighting upon the love l iest im age ry and the mos t e loquente xpress ions ? Name one . Compare any success ion of the ir pages at

random , and see if the young poet is not sure to present his s tock of

beauty ; crude it may be , in many ins tances ; too indiscrim inate in

genera l ;‘ never , perhaps , thoroughly perfect in cult ivation ; but thereit is , e xquis i te of its k ind , and fill ing envy wi th despa ir . H e died atfive -and- twenty ; he had not rev ised his earl ier works , nor , given hisgen ius its las t prun ing . H is Endymion in resolv ing to be free fromall cr it ical tramme ls , had no versification ; and his las t noble fragment ,Hyperion , is not faultless , — but i t is nearly so . The Eve of S t

Agnes be trays m orbidity only in one instance (noticed in the com

ment) . Even in his earl ies t product ions , which are to be cons ideredas those of youth just emerging from boyhood , are to be found passages of as mascul ine a beauty as ever were wr i tten . Witness the

S onnet on r eading C/iapinan’s H omer , epical in the splendour anddignity of its images , and term ina ting with the nobles t G reek sim

plicity. Among his finished productions , however , of any length , theEve of S t . Agnes s till appears to me the mos t de l ightfu l and comple tespecimen of his genius . I t s tands mid-way be tween his mos t sens it iveones (which , though of rare beauty , occas ionally s ink into feebleness)the Ode to a N zglrting a le , and the

.

Sonnet on Chapman'

s H omer ; and thes eremarks form the proem to the se lection.

630 APPEN D I X.

and the less generally characterist i c majes ty of the fragment of

Hyperion . D oubtless his greates t poe try is to be found in H yper ion ;and had he l ived , there is as l i ttle doubt he would have Wr i tten chieflyin that stra in ; r is ing superior to those languishments of love whichmade the cri tics so angry , and which they m ight so eas i ly have pardoued at his time of l ife . But the Eve of S t . Agnes had already bidmos t of them adieu , e xquis ite ly loving as i t is . I t is young , but

full-grown poe try of the rares t descript ion ; graceful as the beardlessApollo ; glowing and gorgeous wi th the colours of romance . I ha vet herefore reprinted the whole of it in the present volume , toge therwi th the comment a lluded to in the Preface ; especially as , in addit ion to fe l ic i ty of treatment , its subjec t is in every respect a happyone , and he lps to pa int ” this our bower of poe try wi th del ight .

”

Me lancholy , i t is true , wi l l break in ” when the reader thinks of the

early death of such a writer ; but i t is one of the benevolent provis ionsof nature , that all good things tend to pleasure in the recollect ion ,

when the bitterness of the ir lp ss is past , ( the ir own swee tness emba lms

them .

Athingn fh s‘

anty ia a joy for even .

While wri ting this paragraph , a hand-organ out-of-doors has beenplaying one of the mournfu l lest and love l ies t of the a irs of Bel l in ianother genius who died young . The sound of mus ic a lways g ives a

feel ing e i ther of tr iumph or tenderness to the s tate of m ind in which i tis heard ; in this ins tance i t seemed l ike one departed spiri t come to

bear testimony to another , and to say how true indeed may be the

union of sorrowful and sweet recollect ions .

Keats knew the youthful faults of his poe try as we ll as anyman, as

the reader may see by the preface to Endymion, and its touchingthough manl y acknowledgment of them to critica l candour . I havethis moment read it aga in, after a lapse of years , and have been astonished to th ink how any body cou ld answer such an appea l to the mercyof s trength , with the crue lty“ of Weakness. All the good for wh ichMr . G ifford pre tended to be zea lous , he might have effected with pa into no one , and g lory to h imse lf ; and therefore al l the evil he mixedwith it was of his own making . But the secret at the bottom of suchunprovoked censure is e xasperated inferiority . YOung poets , upon thewhole , — at least ve ry young poe ts , — had be tter not publish at a ll .

They are pre tty sure to have faults ; and jealousy and envy are as sure

to find them out , and wreak upon them the ir oWn disappointments .

The cri t ic is often an unsuccessfu l author , a lmost always an inferior1 The comm ent is that g iven in this ed ition in the form of footnote s . The a l lu

§ou in H unt

'

s Preface is to the origina l appea rance of the comment in his Londononrna l.

632 APPEND I X.

high condition as were those of whom E l i za has told , yet peradventureit will be no less p it iful ; and what b rought me in m ind of i t was them ent ion , a l ittle before , of Mess ina ,

where the case befe ll .There were then in Mess ina three young brothers , merchants and

left very r ich by the ir fa ther , who was a man of San G im ignano , and

they had a s ister , Isabe lla by name , a right fair and we ll-manneredma iden , whom ,

for wha te ver reason , they had not yet married . Now

these brothers had in one of the ir warehouses a youth of P isa , calledLorenzo , who did and ordered a ll the ir dea l ings and was very com e lyand agreeab le of pe rson , whe refore , I sabe l la be ing often in his com

pany , i t befel l tha t he began s trange ly to please her ; of which Lorenzotak ing note , a t one t ime and another , he in l ike manner , leaving hisother loves , began to turn this thought to her ; and so went on the

affa ir , that each be ing a l ike pleas ing to the other , it was no great whilebefore ,tak ing assurance ,

they wrought that which each of them mos tdes ired . Cont inuing on this wise and enjoying great pleasure and de

l ight one with the other , they knew not how to dea l so secret ly buttha t , one night , I sabe lla , going whe reas Lorenzo lay, was , unknownto herse lf, seen of the e ldes t of her brothers , who , be ing a prudentyouth , for a ll the annoy it gave him to know this thing , be ing ye tmoved by more honourable counse l , abode without s ign or word t i llthe morn ing ,

revolv ing in himse lf various things in respect of the

matter . The day be ing come ,he told his brothers what he had

seen the pas t night of Isabe lla and Lorenzo , and after long advisementwith them , de term ined (50 that ne ithe r to them nor to the ir s is tershould any reproach ensue ) to pass the thing over in s i lence and fe ignto ha ve seen and known nothing thereof, t i l l such time as , withouthur t or loss to themselves ,

they m ight ava i l to do away this shamefrom the ir honour , ere it go farther . I n this m ind abiding and devising and laughing wi th Lorenzo as was their wont , it came about thatone day, fe igning to go forth the c i ty , al l three , a

’

pleasuring , theycarried him wi th them to a ve ry lone ly and remote place , and there ,

the o ccas ion offer ing , s lew him , whils t he was off his guard , and buriedhim wherea s none should know of i t ; then ,

re turning to Mess ina ,

they gave out that they had despatched him somewhither on some of

the ir bus iness , the wh ich was the lightlier credited , that they wereoften used to send him abroad on the ir occas ions . Lorenzo not com

ing back and Isabe lla often and ins tantly enquiring for him of her

brothers , even as one to whom the long de lay was grievous , i t befe llone day, as she was very urgently ask ing after him ,

tha t one of themsa id to her What m eaneth this ? Wha t has t thou to do wi th Lorenzo ,

that thou askes t thus often of him ? An thou enquire for him more ,

we wil l make thee such answer as thou deserves t .

” Wherefore thegir l , sad and grieving and fearful she knew not of what , abode wi thout

B OCCACCI O’S STORY OF I SABELLA . 633

more asking ; yet many a t ime anights would she p i teous ly call himand pray that he would come , and whiles with many tears she wouldmake moan of his long tarrying ; and thus , without a moment’s gladness , she abode e xpect ing him a lway , t i l l , one night , having thusmuch lam ented Lorenzo for tha t he re turned not and be ing at las tfal len as leep weep ing , he appeared to her in a dream , pale and a ll dis

ordered , wi th c lothes rent and mouldered , and her- seemed he be

spoke her thus 0 Isabe lla , thou dos t nought but cal l on me ,

gr ieving for my long de lay and cruel ly impeaching me with thy tears .

Know therefore that I may never more return to thee ,for that the last

day thou sawes t me , thy brothers s lew m e .

” Then hav ing discoveredto her the place where they had buried him , he charged her no more

ca l l him nor e xpect him and disappeared whereupon she awoke and

giv ing fa i th to the vis ion , wept bitterly . I n the morning , be ing r isenand daring not to say aught to her brothers , she determ ined to go to

the place appointed , and see if the th ing were true tha t had so ap

peared to her in the dream . Accordingly , hav ing leave to go som ede leabroad for her disport , she be took he rse lf thither , with al l convenienthaste , in company of one who had been wi th her afore time and was

privy to all her doings , and there , clearing away the dead leaves fromthe p lace , she dug whereas the earth seemed the less hard . She had

not dug long before she came upon her unhappy lover’s body , ye tnothing changed nor rotted , and thence knew manifestly tha t her vis ionwas true , wherefore she was the mos t distressful of women ; yet , knowing that this was no place for lament , she would fa in , an s he but m ight ,have borne away the whole body , to give it fit ter bur ia l ; but see ingtha t this m ight not be , she with a knife cut off the head , as bes t shecould , and wrapp ing it in a napk in , la id it in her ma id’s lap . Thencas ting back the earth over the trunk , she departed thence , wi thoutbe ing seen of any, and re turned home , where , shutt ing hers e lf up in

her chamber with her lover’s head , she bewept it'

so long and bitterly ,that she ba thed it a ll with her tears , and kissed it a thousand times in

every part . The‘

n,tak ing a great and goodly pot , of those where in

they p lant marjoram or swee t bas il , she laid there in the head , foldedin a fa ir l inen cloth , and covered i t up with earth , in which she plantedsundry heads of r ight fa ir bas i l Of Sal erno ; nor did she ever wa terthese with other water than that of her tears or rose or orange

-flower

water . Moreover she took wont to sit still near the pot and to gazeamorously upon it with a ll her des ire , as a t that which he ld her Lorenzohid

,and after she had a great while gazed upon it , she woul d bend

over it and fa ll to weeping so sore and so long , that her tears bathedthe bas il , which , by dint of such long and ass iduous tending , as we llas by reason of the richness of the earth proceeding from the rott inghead that was therein, grew passing fair and sweet of savour. The

634 APPEN D I X.

g irl , doing wi thout cease after this wise , was many times seen Of her

ne ighbours , who to her b rothers , wondering a t her waste beauty andthat her eyes seemed to ha ve fl ed forth her head [for weeping] , rela ted this , saying We have noted tha t she doth e very day afte r sucha fashion .

” The brothers , hearing and be ing cert ified of this and

hav ing once and aga in reproved her therefor , but wi thout ava i l , letsecre tly carry away from her the pot , which she m iss ing , with the

utmost ins tance many a t ime required , and for that i t was not restor edto her , s t inted not to weep and lament t i l l she fe ll s ick , nor in her s ickness did she ask aught e lse but the pot of bas i l . The young men

marve l led grea tly a t this continual ask ing and were m inded thereforeto see what was in this pot ; so , emptying out the earth ,

. they foundthe cloth and in this the head , not ye t so rotted but that they m ightknow i t , by the curled ha ir , to b e that of Lorenzo . At this they werem ighti ly amazed , and feared les t the thing should ge t wind ; whereforeburying the head aga in , without word sa id , they privily departedM ess ina ,

hav ing made the ir dispos it ions to withdraw thence , and betook themse lves to Naples . The g irl , ceas ing ne ver from lament ingand s ti ll demanding her pot , died weeping ; and so her i l l-fortunedlove had end . But after a while , the thing be ing grown manifes t tomany , there was one who made thereon the song that is yet sung and

that runs thusAlack ! ah , who could the il l Christian be ,Tha t s tole my pot away ? &c .

Philomena’s s tory wa s right pleas ing to the ladie s , for tha t they had

many a t ime heard s ing this song , ye t could ne ver , by ask ing , come to

know the occa s ion of its be ing made .

TH E “ SAD D ITTY ” BORN OF TH E STORY OF

ISABELLA .

AFTER many fruitle ss efforts to find , by enqu iry among I tal ian

scholars in England , the poem a l luded to by Boccacc io a t the

c lose of the S tory of I sabe lla ,I have had the good fortune to

com e upon i t through the k indness of M iss V io le t Paget Of Florence ,who has obta ined for me a t the same t ime some interest ing de ta i lsfrom Professor Comparett i . Th is high authority be lieves that thesong is no longer sung in S ic ily ; but i t recurs , i t seems , as a very

APPEND IX.

Questo fu lo ma lo cris tianoChe mifuro la resta

D e l bas i l ico mio se lemontano.

Cresc int’ era in gran podestaEd io 10 michiantaicolla mia mano,

Eu lo g iorno de lla festa .

Chiguasta l’a ltruicose e villania .

Chiguas ta l’a ltruicose e vill aniaE grandiss imo il peccatoEd io , la meschine lla , ch

’ i’m’avia

Una res ta sem inata ,

Tant’ e ra be lla , all’ombra midormia .

Da lla gente invidiataFumm i fura ta , e davant i al la porta .

Fummifura ta , e davanti a l la porta :

D o lorosa me’ fu’ assa iEd io la m eschine l la , or fosse io morta lChe sicara I

’acca ttai!

E pur l’a ltrier ch’ i’ n’

ebbi mala s cortaD a l messer cuitanto ama i ,Tutto lo

’ntorniaidi maggiorana

Tutto IO ’ntorniaidi maggiorana

Fu di maggio lo be l mese ;Tre volte lo ’

nnafliaila sett imana °

Sivid’io come ben e’s’apprese

Or e in pa les s che mifu raputo .

Or e in pa lese che mifu raputo

Non lo posso piu ce lare .

Sed 5’ io davant i l’ave ssisaputo

Che midove sse incontrare ,

D avanti a ll’ usc io misare’ dorm itaPer la mia resta guardarePotrebbem ene ajutare l

’al to I ddio.

Potrebbemene ajutare l’al to I ddio ,

S e fusse suo p iac imento ,

D ell’uomo che m

’e s ta to tanto rio .

Messo m ’ba in pene e’n torm ento ,

Che m’ba fura to il bass i lico mio

Che era p ieno di tanto ulimento .

Suo ulimento tutta misanava .

Suo ulim ento tutta misanava ,

Tant’ avea fresch i gliolori ;E la mat tino quando lo ’

nnaffiava

Alla levata de l sole

TH E “ SAD D I TTY.

” 637

Tutta la gente simaravigl iavaOnde vien cotanto aulore ?

Ed io per lo suo amor morro di dogl ia .

Ed lo per lo suo amor morro di dogl ia ,

Per amor de lla res ta miaFosse chila mirinsegnar vogl ia ,

Volentier la raccatteria

Cent’ once d’ oro ch’ i’ ho ne l la fonda

Volentier glile doneria ;E donerieglium basc io in dis ianza .

My friend Mr . John Payne has been kind enough to add to his

adm irable vers ion of the S tory the following beaut iful rende r ing of the

poem . Not to mention the pathetic poem S a lvestr a from Boccacc iopublished in 1 880 (N ew Poems

, pages 1 9 3 to Mr . Payne’s com

ple te success in giv ing us an Engl ish vers ion of the Poems of FrancisVillon , and in the st i l l more difficult task of trans lating the whole bodyof Arabic verse found in the Book of the Thousand and One N igh ts ,

leaves no doub t about his be ing as fi t a poe t as poss ible to completethus the compl iment to Boccaccio pa id so long ago by Keats and

Reynolds .

Alack ! ah who could the i l l Chris tian b e ,That s tole my pot away ,

My pot of bas i l of Sa lem , from m e ?’Twas thriv

’n with many a spray

And I wi th m ine own hand did plant theEven on the festa l 1 day.

’Tis felony to waste another’s ware .

’Tis felony to waste anothe r’s ware ;Yea , and right grie vous sin .

And I , poor lass , tha t sowed myse lf whilereA pot with flowe rs there in ,

S lept in its shade , so great i t was and fa ir .

But folk , that env ious bin ,

S tole i t away even from my very door .

’Twas s tolen away even from my very door .

Full heavy was my cheer ,(Ah , luck less ma id , would I had died toforeWho loved 2 it pass ing dear

1Quaer e nata l ? perhaps meaning her birthday.Perhaps bong /it .

Yet kept one day, through him whom I adore ,I ll ward upon my gear .

I p lanted it wi th marjoram about .I planted it with marj oram about ,When May was blithe and new ;

Yea , thr ice I watered i t , week in , week out ,And watched how we l l i t grew

But now,for sure , away from me

’tis ta’en .

Ay, now for sure away from me‘

tis ta’en ;I may’t no longer hide .

H ad I but known (alas , regret is va in !)Tha t which shou ld me be t ide ,

Before my door on guard I down had la inTo sleep , my flowers bes ide .

Yet might the G rea t God ease me a t H is wi ll .Yea , God mos t H igh m igh t ease me , at H is wi ll ,

I f but i t l iked H im we l l ,Of him who wrought me such unright and i l l ;H e into pangs of he ll

Cas t me , who s tole my bas i l-pot , t ha t s til lWas full of such swee t smell ,

I ts savour did all dole from me away.All dole its savour did from me away ;I t was so redolent ,When , with the risen sun , at early dayTo wa ter i t I went ,

The folk would marve l a ll at i t and say,Whence comes this swee tes t scent ? ”And I for love of i t sha ll sure ly die .

Yea , I for love of it shall sure ly die ,For love and grief and pa in .

I f one would te l l me where i t is , I’d buyI t will ingly aga in .

Fivescore gold crowns , tha t in my purseI’d proffer him fu ll fa in ,

And eke a kiss , if so it like the swain.

640 APPEND I X.

JOH N H AMILTON REYNOLD S’S

ROB I N H OOD SONNETS ,

"

Fr anz “ 7 71 8 Gar den of Flor ence” & c .

, 1 821 .

OBIN the outlaw I s there not a mass

Of freedom in the name ? I t te lls the storyOf c lenched oaks , wi th branche s bow’

d and hoary,Leaning in aged beauty o’

e r the grass ,

Of dazed sm i le on check of borde r lassListening ’

ga ins t some Old gate a t his strange gloryAnd of the dappled s tag , s truck down and gory ,

Lying with nostri l wide in green moras s .

I t te lls a ta le of fores t days of t imesThat would have been mos t precious unto theeD ays of undying pastora l libe rty

Swee ter than mus ic old of abbey chimesSwee t as the v irtue of Shakspearian rhymes

D ays , shadowy with the magic green-wood tree !

The trees in Sherwood forest are old and good ,The gras s beneath them now is dimly green ;Are they dese rted al l ? I s no young m ienWith loose- s lung bugle met within the wood

N0 arrow found , foil’d of its antler

’d food ,S truck in the oak’s rude s ide ? 1 5 there nought seen ,

To mark the reve lries which there have been,

I n the sweet days of merry Robin H ood ?

Go there , with Summer , and wi th evening , go

I n the soft shadows l ike some wander ing man ,

As these sonnets are addre ssed To and Ke a ts’

s Robin H ood (pages 306-9 )was written 1n answe r to them , I pre sum e we need not doubt tha t Kea ts wa s theunnam ed pe rson for whom the Sonne ts were meant . The re is a refe rence ,

appar

ently,8

t0

8

the poem and the sonne ts in Keats'

s letter to Reynolds of the 3d ofFebru«

ary 1 I

LETTER FROM B . R . H AYD ON . 64 1

And thou sha l t far am id the fores t knowThe archer men in green , with be lt and bow,

Feast ing on pheasant , r iver- fowl , and swan,

With Robin a t the ir head , and Marian .

With coat of Lincoln green and mant le too ,

And horn of ivory mouth , and buckle bright ,And arrows wing

’d with peacock-feathers l ight ,And trusty bow we l l gather’d of the yew,

S tands Robin H ood -and near , with eyes of blueShining through dusk ha ir , l ike the s tars of night ,And habited in pretty fores t pl igh t ,

H is green-wood beauty s i ts , young as the dew.

Oh gentle- tressed girl ! Ma id Mar ian !Are thine eyes bent upon the ga llant gameThat s tray in the merry Sherwood : thy sweet fame

Can never , never die . And thou , high man ,

Would we m ight pledge thee with thy s i lver CanOf Rhenish , in the woods of Nottingham

XI I I .

LETTER FROM B . R . H AYDON CONCERN ING TH E

NETS ON TH E ELG IN MARBLES .

MARCH , 1 8 1 7 .

Y D EAR KEATS , Many thanks , my dear fe llow , for your two

noble sonnets . I know not a finer image than the comparisonof a poe t unable to e xpress his high fee l ings to a s ick eag le look

ing a t the sky, where he mus t have remembered his former towerings

am id the blaze of da zzl ing sunbeams , in the pure e xpanse of gl i tter ingclouds ; now and then pass ing ange ls , on heavenly errands , lying at

the wi l l of the wind with moveless wings , or pi tching downward with afiery rush , eager and intent on objects of the ir seek ingI fee l deeply the high and enthus iast ic pra ise with which you haveThis liette r concerning the sonne ts pr inted a t pages 367

- 8 is from that extreme lyinte re s ting book B enj amin Rober t H aydon : Cor r espondence and Table - Ta l lé

I t occurs in Volume I I , a t page 2 .

642 APPEND I X.

spoken of me in the firs t sonnet . Be assured you shal l never repentit . The time sha ll come , if God spare my l ife , when you wi ll remember i t wi th de l ight .

God bless you !B . R . H AYDON .

TH REE SONNETS FROM LE IGH H UNT’S FOLIAGE .

M .D .

ON H I S G I V I NG ME A LOCK or M I LTON’

s HAI R .

IFELT my spir i t leap , and look at theeThrough my changed colour wi th glad grateful s tare ,When after shewing us this glorious ha ir,

Thou didst turn short , and bending pleasantlyWith gracious hand gav’st the great lock to me .

An honouring gift indeed which I wi l l wearAbout me , while I breathe this s trenuous air ,

That nursed his Apollonian tresses free .

I’l l wear i t , not as my inherited due ,

(For there is one , whom had he kept his artFor Freedom s t i ll , nor left her for the crewOf lucky s laves in his m isgi ving heart ,I would have begged thy leave to give i t to)Yet not wi thout some c la ims , though far apart .

No apology is nece ssary for giving the se sonnets by way of append ix to Ke a ts’spoem on the same lock of ha ir, printed a t pag es 328

—4 , b ut I regre t the absence of

de ta i ls concernmg the history of the lock 0 hair. p to the t ime o f send ing theseshee ts to p ress , I have not succeeded in recovering H unt

'

s account of what mayb e ca lled the ped igree of the look , or in ascerta ining the pre sent whe reabouts ofthe ha ir . M r. Thornton H unt had its ; b ut the fami ly ha s lost sight of it A re fe r

ence to M i lton’

s ha ir " in a le tte r from M r . Robe rt Browning to Leigh H unt,

published in the Cor r espondence , Vo lume I I , page 267 ,led me to app ly to the l iv

ing poe t for informa t ion. M r . Brown ing te l ls me tha t he st il l posse sse s a ve rysma l l portion of the lock , g iven to himse lf and M rs . Browning by H unt a t H amm ersmith on the 1 3th of Ju ly 1 856.

“H e de tached it with trembling finge rs , and

wrote on the enve lope A bit of a lock_of the ha ir of M i lton . To Robe rt and E.

B. Browning from Le igh H unt. G od ble ss them .

’

H e subsequentlywrote to

Mr . Browning a long and intere st ing le tter , conta ining a ped igree o the lock,

pre c ise and p laus ib le "this ped igre e ,

though not immed iate ly forthcom ing ,Mr . Browning is ce rta in of re covering eventua l ly , as it is safe ly pre served .

544 APPEND I X.

TH E N ILE ” SONNETS OF LE IGH HUNT AND PERCY

BYSSH E SH ELLEY.

TH E N I LE.

IT flows through old hush’

d E gypt and its sands ,Like some grave m ighty thought threading a dream ;And times and things , as in tha t vis ion , seem

Keeping a long i t the ir eterna l stands ,Caves , p illars , pyram ids , the shepherd bandsThat roam’

d through the young world , the glory e x treme.

Of high Sesostris , and tha t southern beam ,

The laughing queen tha t caught the world’s grea t hands .

Then comes a m ightier s i lence , s tern and s trong ,

As of a world left empty of its throng ,

And the void we ighs on us ; and then we wake ,

And hear the fruitful s tream laps ing long’Twi x t villages , and think how we sha ll takeOur own ca lm journey on for human sake .

ONTH after month the gather’d ra ins descend ,D renching yon secret I Ethiopian de ll s ,And fr

pm the D esert

’s ice -

girt pinnacles ,Where Fros t and H eat in s trange embraces blendOn Atlas , fie lds of mois t snow half depend .

G irt there wi th blas ts and me teors , Tempest dwe llsBy N i le’s aeria l urn , wi th rapid spe lls

Urging its waters to the ir m ighty end .

O’er Egypt’s land of m emory floods are leve l ,And they are thine , O N i le ! and wel l thou knowes t

That soul- sus ta ining a irs and blas ts of e v il ,And frui ts and poisons spring where’er thou flowes t .

Beware , O man ! for knowledge mus t to thee ,

Like the great flood to Egypt , ever be .

SH ELLEY .

I

i

unt’

s sonne t is from Foliag e , She l ley’s from the Libra ry Ed ition of hisWOT So

S ONN ET B Y P I ERRE P ON SAPD . 64 5

SONNET FROM TH E GARD EN OF FLORENCEBY JOH N HAM I LTON REYNOLD S ,

subj ect of Kea ts’s sonnet ,

“ Blue ! ’Tis tbe lif e of Aeaven ,

”

WEET poets of the gentle antique l ine ,

Tha t made the hue of beauty a ll eterne ;And gave earth’s me lodies a s ilver turn

,Where did you s tea l your art so r ight divine ?Sweet ly ye m emor ied every golden twineOf your ladies’ tresses — teach me how to spurn

D ea th’S lone decaying and obliv ion s ternFrom the swee t forehead of a lady m ine .

The golden c lusters of enamouring ha irG low’d in poet ic p ictures sweet ly well ;Why should not tresses dusk , tha t are so fair

On the l ive brow, have an e terna l spe llI n poesy ? dark eyes are dearer farThan orbs tha t mock the hyac inthine-bell .

XVI I .

SONNET BY PIERRE RONSARD .1’

ATURE , ornant Cassandre , quideuoit

D e sa douceur forcer les plus rebe l les ,La composa de cent beaute z nouuelles ,

Que des m i lle ans en espargne e l le auoit

D e tous les biens qu’

Amour au C ie l couuoitComm e nu tré sor cherement sous ses a i les ,E lle enr ichi t les graces immorte lles

See page 387 .

1“This sonne t

,Kea ts

’

s trans la tion from which I s g iven a t pages 4 22—23, is the second

in Les Arnour s de Ca ssandr e . Ca ssandre ,it shou ld b e exp la ined ,

was , a s Lord

H oughton records in the Lifie, Letter s &c., a damose l of Blois , be loved of M a ster

Pe te r Ronsard .

646 APPEND I X.

D e son bel oe i l quiles D ieux esmouuoit .

D u Cie l a pe ine e lle estoit descendue'Quand ie la vey, quand mon asme esperdue

En deuint folle , et d’un Sipoignant tra it ,

Amour coula ses beaute z en mes ve ines ,Ou

’autres pla is irs ie ne sens que mes pe ine s

Ny autre bien qu’ adorer son portrait .

XVI I I .

ON LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY ;

REMARKS BY LE I GH H UNT ,

Publislzed in Tbe I ndica tor f or tbe l ot/z of May 1 820 .

MONG the pieces pr inted at the end of Chaucer’s works , and

A a ttributed to him , is a trans lation , under this t itle , of a poem of

the ce lebrated Ala in Chartier , Secre tary to Charles the S i x thand Seventh . I t was the t i tle which suggested to a friend the versesat the end of our present number . We wish Ala in could have seen

them . H e would have found a Troubadour air for them , and sungthem to La Be lle D am e Agnes Sore l , who was however not Sans

Mercy . The union of the imaginat ive and the rea l is very s trik ingthroughout , particularly in the dream . The wi ld gent leness of the

res t of the thoughts and of the mus ic are a l ike old ; and they are a lsoa l ike young ; for love and imaginat ion are a lways young , let them bringwi th them wha t t imes and accompaniments they may. I f we take realflesh and b lood wi th us , we may throw ourse lves , on the facile wingsof our sympathy , into what age we please . I t is only by trying to feel ,as we l l as to fancy , through the m edium . of a cos tume , tha t wr itersbecome m ere fleshless masks and cloaks , things l ike the trophies of

the anc ients , when they hung up the empty armour of an enemy . A

hope less lover would s til l fee l these verses , in spite of the introductionof some thing unearthly . Indeed any lover , truly touched , or any bodycapable of be ing So , wil l fee l them ; because love itse lf resembles a

vis i tation ; and the k indes t looks , which bring wi th them an inevitableportion of happ iness because they seem happy themse lves , haunt uswi th a spe ll - l ike power , which makes us shudder to guess at the sufl

'

er

ings of those who can be fascinated by unkind ones .

People however need not b e much a larm ed a t the thought of such

64 8 APPEND I X .

They are wa ited upon , at the ir repas t , not by deadly servants ,”butby gent

lemen and lovers ; of one of whom he proceeds to give a

capita l pictureEmong all other , one I gan espy ,Which in grea t thought ful often came and wentAs one that had been ra v ished utte rly :I n his language not great ly diligent ,H is countenance he kept wi th great turment ,But his des ire farre passed his reason ,

For ever his eye went after his entent ,Full many a t ime ,when it was no season .

To make chere , sore bimse lfe he pa ined ,And outwardly he fe igned great gladnesse ;To s ing also , by force he was cons tra ined ,

For no pleasaunce , but very shamefastne sse ;

For the compla int of his mos t heavinesse

Came to his voice .

‘

NOTE ON TH E SPELLING , INFLEXIONS , &c . FOUNDI N KEATS ’

S WRIT INGS , AND ADOPTED I N TH ISED ITION .

IN the m inor matters of orthography , punctua tion , &c .

, I havethought it proper to let the author have the pr inc ipa l voice , ra therthan to apply any e xterna l s tandard . To ascerta in Keats’s de lib

erate preferences as far as poss ible , and carry them out cons is tently ,seems to me the best procedure . I n applying such a principle to

those works which were printed in his l ife - t ime , it is necessary torecord all dev iat ions from the t ext even when they are in pursuance

of the poet’s own rule s ; but in reprinting the pos thumous works it is

a llowable to move a l i tt le more free ly,‘

because the te x t of those worksis certa in to have been revis ed in m inor de ta i l from a difl

”

erent point ofview . I have therefore endeavoured to accommodate the orthography&c . of the pos thumous poems to that of the others wi thout recordingthe particular forms adopted in previous edit ions .

1 After this extract H unt g ives Kea ts’s poem ,with the remark But to return to

our other Be l le D ame .

N OTE ON SPELLI N G , I NFLEXI ON S , E TC. 64 9

I n many ins tances Keats adopted , no doubt del iberate ly , the orthography of Spenser ,

— as in lilly , ba l lance , pavil lion , and I have not

thought it advisable to interfere wi th a preference of this kind . Evenfor but instead of butt he had the authori ty of e lder wri ters ; and I presume no one wi ll dispute the orthography clzace, see ing tha t Somer

ville , to whom the word belongs of r ight , spe lt i t so .

These are but samp les of a great many words which Kea ts usedwith a different Spe lling from that commonly employed ; but there isno occas ion to discuss the vocabulary further .

The mos t difficult matter to dea l with from the point of view of the

poet’s intent ion has been that of words inflected in the pas t part ic iple .

There is evidence both interna l and e x terna l that Kea ts at tachedimportance to the way in which his past participles in ed or

’d were

printed . The e xternal ev idence takes the form of an ins truct ion forthe pr inter , wr i tten upon the manuscript of Endymion in his own

handwri t ingAttend to the punctuation in general as marked , and to the

E l is ions in the las t syllables of the participles as they are wri tten .

”

This makes i t abundantly clear that he had a ser ious intent ion in

regard to the part ic iples ; and there is ample interna l evidence thattha t int ention , e xpressed broadly , was to print ed when tha t syllablewas to be pronounced and to replace the e by an apostrophe in theopposite case . This sounds at first qui te s imple and Keats himse lf hadclearly no not ion how difficult a task he had set himse lf, and how verypart ially the ardent mood of poet ic compos i tion adm its of carrying out

any such rule in deta i l . The three books which he got pr inted all

betray the intention to follow this rule ; and each is incons is tent initse lf as to the carrying out of the rule ; while the manuscripts of Keatswhich I have e xam ined in conne x ion with this edition are natura llys til l more wayward . The difficulty of now carrying the poe t’s own

rule out for him arises from several c ircumstances . I n regard to thegrea t majori ty of words ending with ed in his works there is no doubtwhatever , upon me trical grounds , tha t the syllable is to be pronounced .

But in many instances the e in the final ed is left s tanding , both inmanuscript and in pr int , when metrical cons iderations make i t absolute ly certa in that it was meant to be replaced by an apostrophe ; whilein a not incons iderable number of cases , where the quest ion is ratherrhythm ical than metri cal , i t is by no means certa in whe ther the e was

left in by accident or on purpose . Cases in which an apos trophereplaces an e that is peremptori ly wanted for rhyme or metre or rhythmare comparative ly uncommon ; but they e x ist ; and in one or two pas

sages the author’s manuscr ipt shows a curious e xception ,- an e (ac

cented in a manner beyond all dispute ) when the verse is such tha tthe real need was an apostrophe instead of an e. I f these were all

650 APPEND I X .

the points one had to cons ider the matter would still be a simpleone enough to settle : one would say without hes ita t ion ,

“ leave the e

in when it is qu ite clear it is to be sounded ; replace i t by an apos trophewhen i t is quite clear i t is mute ; and when there is a doubt g ive i t thbenefit of the doubt and leave i t in .

” For i t is obvious ly of l i ttle con

sequence whether we read (Endymion , Book 1 , l ine 1 0)

Of all the unheal thy and o’erdarkened ways

Of all the unhea lthy and o’e rdarken

’d ways

the rhythm is easy and noble in e i the r case : if we sound the e , the

r ichnes s of the redundant second foot has an echo of redundancy inthe fifth foot : if we leave the e out , it has not ; and in the manuscriptand firs t edition of Endymion the e s tands , accord ing to the rule , to

be pronounced . S im i lar ly , i t is of no great moment whe ther we read(Sonnet to

Be echoed swiftly through that ivory she llBe echo

’d swiftly through tha t ivory She ll .On the other hand it is of some consequence whether we read (Endymion , Book I , l ine 1 1 1 )

Who ga thering round the a ltar seemed to pryWho gather ing round the al tar seem’d to pry

the e has clearly no bus iness there ; but there i t is both in the manu

script and in the firs t edit ion , to be pronounced , according to therule , and therefore to be e xpe lled for an apostrophe by an editor des irous of carrying the poe t’s rule into efl

'

ect for him . Jus t as importantis i t tha t we should read in the Sonne t On Fir st looking into C/zapman

’s H omer

That deep-brow’d H omer rul’d as his demesne ;

and not

That deep-brow’d H omer rule'd as his demesne ;but r uled Keats wrote and printed , though in the same sonne t hewrote and printed sia r

’d and not sta r ed . And unfortunate ly thewords ending in ed are not a ll or nearly all of a class thus easy todeal with : there is a hos t of words which are inflected , not by theaddition of ed , but by the addit ion of d to an e which they havealready , as place, f a ce, lor/e, move, r ange, c/iange, pile, wile, c/za rge,

APPEND I X.

I n ENDYM I ON continued

I n the 1 820 VolumeLAM IA continued

LI STS OF WORD S ALTERED . 655

I n the 1 820 Volume continuedI SABELLA PSYCHE

St. Line

XI V 8I nspired

XVI I 4LXI I I 1

FANCYDulce t-eyed

EVE OF ST . AGNES Bards Of Passwn ”

H YPER I ONBook

N I GHTI NGALE

leaden-eyed 8 lilies

LIST OF ' PERSONS COMPOSING TH E KEATS CIRCLE ,

WITH.DATES OF B IRTH AND DEATH .

l

OH N KEATS , born 31 October 1 7 9 5, died 23 February 1 82 1 .

Thomas Kea ts , father of the poe t , died 1 6 April 1 804 .

Frances Kea ts , born Jennings , mother of the poet , died , Mrs .

Rawl ings , February 1 8 1 0 .

G eorge Keats , brother of the poe t , born 28 February 1 7 9 7 , died 1 84 2.

Thomas Keats , brother of the poet , born 1 8 November 1 7 9 9 , died 1

D ecember 1 8 1 8 .

Edward Keats , brother of the poet , born 28 April 1 80 1 , died in infancy .Fanny Kea ts , s ister of the poe t , born 3 June 1 803.

1 The Fam i ly Bible in which were recorded the births and deaths of the Keatsfam i ly was , among other books be longing to Kea ts

'

s s ister, se ized by the Custom

H ouse officers in Spa in m any years ago ,and never restored . The dates ofKea ts

'

s

birth and of his s ister’s,I found recorded in the regi ster of baptism s a t the church

of S t. Botolph , Bishopsgate . Professor Co lvin recovered the dates of birth of the

three brothers “from the parish reg isters of S t. Leonard

’

s, Shored itch. The rest

of the dates g iven in th is l ist are from various sources of authority, published and

private , includ ing Mr. Colvin'

s Keats.

656 APPEND I X.

John Jennings , maternal grandfather of the poet , died 8 March 1 805.

Al i ce Jennings , maternal grandmother of the poet , died D ecember1 8 1 4 (aged

Midgley John Jenn ings , Captain R .N . , materna l uncle of the poe t ,died 8 October 1 808 .

Frances (orFanny) Brawne , born 9 August I 800 , died ,Mrs .Lindon , 1 865Charles Cowden Clarke , born 1 5 D ecember 1 7 8 7 , died 1 3March 1 87 7 .

James H enry Le igh H unt , born 1 9 October 1 7 84 , died 28 Augus t 1 859 .

Benjam in Robert H aydon , born 26 January 1 7 86, died 22 June 1 846.

John H am ilton Reynol ds , born 9 September 1 7 9 6, died 1 5 November1 852 .

Charlotte Reynolds , mother of the las t-named , born 1 5 November1 7 6 1 , died 1 3 May 1 84 8 .

Jane Reynolds , daughter of the las t-named , born 6 November 1 7 9 4 ,died , Mrs . H ood , 4 D ecember 1 846.

Mariane Reynolds , s is ter of the last -named , born 23 February 1 7 9 3,died , Mrs . Green , 7 January 1 8 7 4 .

Charlotte Reynolds , s ister of the las t-named , born 1 2 May 1 802, died

26 October 1 884 .

Charles Wells , born 1 802, died 1 7 February 1 87 9 .

Char les Wentworth D ilke of Chichester , born 25 November 1 7 42, died25 March 1 826.

Charles Wentworth Dilke , Kea ts’s friend , son of the las t-named , born8 D ecember 1 7 89 , died 1 0 Augus t 1 864 .

Charles Wentworth D i lke , afterwards first Barone t of the name , son

of Keats’s fr iend , born 1 8 February 1 8 1 0 , died 1 1 May 1 869 .

Will iam D ilke , younger brother of Kea ts’s friend , born 1 6Augus t 1 7 9 6,died 29 August 1 885.

John Snook , born 7 October 1 7 80, died 29 January 1 863.

Laetitia Snook , wife of John Snook , born D ilke 4 April 1 7 84 , died 9March 1 865.

John Taylor , born 3 1 July 1 7 8 1 , died 5 July 1 864 .

James Augustus H essey , born 28 July 1 7 85, died 7 April 1 87 0.

Benjam in Ba il ey , born about 1 7 9 4 , died 1 852 .

Ri chard Woodhouse , born 1 7 88 or 1 7 89 , died 3 September 1 834 .

Joseph Ritchie , born about 1 7 88 , died 20 D ecember 1 8 1 9 .

James Rice , not l iving in D ecember 1 833.

Joseph Severn , born 1 7 9 3, died 3 August 1 87 9 .

Charles Arm i tage Brown , born 1 7 86, died June 1 842 .

William Wordsworth , born 7 Apri l 1 7 7 0 , died 23 April 1 850.

Percy Bysshe She lley , born 4 August 1 7 9 2 , died 8 July 1 822 .

This l ist has been revised and comp leted as far as possib le so as to make I t cor

rect a t the resent t ime ( 1 889 ) and I should have been g lad to add particu lars of

birth and eath in regard to G eorge Fe lton Mathew,Thoma s Richards ,

and someothers , concerning whom ,

up till now, I have not learnt the re quired details.

658 I ND EX OF FI RS T LI NES .

PAGE

G ive me your patience , sister, wh ile I frame

Glocester, no more . I will behold that BoulogneGlory and love l iness have pass’d away ;Go no further ; not a step more ; thou art

God of the golden bow,

Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone

Great spir its now on earth are sojourningGrievously are we tanta liz ’d, one and all

H ad I a man’s fair form , then m ight my sighs

H adst thou liv’d in days of old,H appy , happy g lowing fire .

H appy 1 3 England ! I could be content

H ast thou from‘

the caves of Golconda, a gemH aydon ! forg ive m e that I cannot speakH e is to weet a me lancholy carleH earken, thou craggy ocean pyram id !H ence Burgundy, Claret, and Port,H ere all the summer could I stay,H ighmindedness, a jea lousy for good,H ow fever

’d is the man, who cannot lookH ow many bards g i ld the lapses of time !

H ush , hush ! tread soft ly ! hush, hush my dear !

I cry your mercy—pity—love —aye, love !I had a dove and the swee t dove died ;I stood tip-toe upon a l ittle h i l l,I f by dull rhymes our Engl ish must be chain

’d,

I f shame can on a soldier’s ve in-swol l’n front

I n a drear-nighted D ecember,

I n after-time , a sage of m ick le loreI n m idmost I nd, beside H ydaspes cool ,I n the wide sea there l ives a forlorn wretch,‘I n thywestern hal ls of goldI t keeps eternal wh isper ings aroundJust at the self-same beat ofTime

’s wide wings

Keen, fitful gusts are wh isp’ring here and thereKing of the stormy sea !

Life’s sea hath been five times at its slow ebb , [foot-note]Light fee t, dark violet eyes, and parted ha ir ;LO ! I must te ll a tale of ch iva lryLove in a hut, with Water and a crust,

Many the wonders I th is day have seen

Mortal , that thou may’st understand arigh t,Mother of H ermes ! and stil l youthful Maia !

I NDEX OF FI RS T LI NE S.

Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold, .

Muse of my native l and ! loftiest Muse !

My heart aches, arid a drowsy numbness painsMy spirit is too weak mortal ity 5

Nature Withheld Cassandra in the sk ies,No more advices, no more caut ioning ;No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twistN0 ! those days are gone awayNow, Ludolph ! Now, Auranthe ! D aughterfair !Now may we lift our bruised vizors upNow Morning from her orient chamber came

,

Not Aladdin magian

Nymph of the downward smil e and sidelong glance,

OArethusa, peerless nymph ! why fear0 blush not so ! 0 blush not soO Chatterton . how very sad thy fate !0 com e Georgiana ! the rose is full blownO for enough life to support me on

O Goddess ! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung0 golden tongued Romance , w ith serene lute !O

,my poor Boy ! my Son ! my Son ! my Ludolph !

O soft embalmer of the sti ll m idnigh t,O Sol itude ! if I must with thee dwe ll ,O Sorrow,

O sovere ign power of love ! 0 grief ! O balm !0 that a week could be an age , and we

0 that the earth were empty, as wh en CainO thou whose face hath fe l t the Winter’s w ind,0 Thou, whose m igh ty pa lace roof doth hang0 ! were I one of the Ol ymp ian twelve ,0 what can ail thee , knight-a t-arms, [foot-note]Of late two da inties were before me p lac

’d

Oft have you seen a swan superbly frown ing,Oh ! how I love , on a fa ir summer

’s eve,

Oh, I am frighten’

d with most hateful thoughts l .

Oh ! what a vo ice is s ilent . I t was soft [foot-note]Old Meg she was a G ipsy,One morn before m e were three figures seen.O ver theH ill and over the D ale,

Pensive they Sit, and roll the ir languid eyes, .

Physic ian Nature ! let my spirit blood !Read me a lesson, Muse, and

’

speak it loudSt.Agnes

’Eve Ah, bitter ch il l it was !Season of mists and mel low fruitfulness,

660 I ND EX OF FI RS T L I NES .

Shed no tear O shed no tear !Smal l

,busy flames p lay through the fresh laid

So, I am safe emerged from these broils !Son of the old moon-mounta ins African !Souls of Poe ts dead and gone,

Spenser ! a j ealous honourer of thine,Spirit here tha t

”

re ignest !Standing aloof in giant ignorance,Still very S ick my Lord ; but now I wentSweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,

The church bel ls toll a me lancholy round,The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone !

The Goth ic looks so lemn,The poetry of earth is never deadThe stranger l igh ted from his steed,The sun, with his great eye,The town, the churchyard, and the se tting sun,

There are who lord it o’er the ir fe llow-men

There is a charm in footing slow across a si lent plain,There was a naughty Boy,Th ink not of it, Sweet one, so ;Th is mortal body of a thousand daysTh is p leasant ta le is l ike a l i ttle copse

Thou sti ll unravish’d bride of’ quietness

Thus in a lternate uproar and sad peace ,Time’s sea ha th been five years a t its slow ebb ,’Tis the Witch ing hour of night ,To-night I ’ll have my friar let me thinkTo

.

one who has been long in c ity pent ,Two or three PosiesUnfe l t, unheard, unse en,Upon a Sabba th day it fe ll ;Upon a time, before the faery broodsUpon my Life Sir Nevis I am piqu

’

d

Was ever such a night ?We lcome joy, and we lcome sorrow,

We l l, well, I know what ugl y jeopardyWhat can I do to drive awayWhat is more gentle than a wind in summer?What though , for showing truth to flatter’d state ,

What though while the wonders of nature exploring,When by my so l itary hearth I sit,When I have fears that I may cease to be

When they were come into the Faery’s CourtWhen wedding fiddles are a -

p laying ,Where he ye going, you D evon ma id ?

John Keats Given From His Own Editions and Other Authentic ...

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Transcript of John Keats Given From His Own Editions and Other Authentic ...