Drench'd about the sombre rocks,
On his neck his well-grown locks,
Lifted dry above the main,

Were upon the curl again.

"What is this? and what art thou?" Whisper'd I, and touch'd his brow;

20

"What art thou? and what is this?".
Whisper'd I, and strove to kiss

The spirit's hand, to wake his eyes;
Up he started in a trice:
"I am Lycidas," said he,
"Fam'd in funeral minstrelsy!
This was architectur'd thus
By the great Oceanus!-
Here his mighty waters play
Hollow organs all the day;
Here by turns his dolphins all,
Finny palmers great and small,
Come to pay devotion due—

Each a mouth of pearls must strew.
Many a mortal of these days,
Dares to pass our sacred ways,
Dares to touch audaciously
This Cathedral of the Sea!
I have been the pontiff-priest
Where the waters never rest,
Where a fledgy sea-bird choir
Soars for ever; holy fire

I have hid from mortal man;
Proteus is my Sacristan.

But the dulled eye of mortal

Hath pass'd beyond the rocky portal;
So for ever will I leave

Such a taint, and soon unweave

All the magic of the place."

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40

*

50

So saying, with a Spirit's glance
He dived!

SONNET

WRITTEN UPON THE TOP OF BEN NEVIS

READ me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud
Upon the top of Nevis, blind in mist!
I look into the chasms, and a shroud

Vapourous doth hide them,-just so much I wist.
Mankind do know of hell; I look o'erhead,
And there is sullen mist,-even so much
Mankind can tell of heaven; mist is spread
Before the earth, beneath me,—even such,
Even so vague is man's sight of himself!

Here are the craggy stones beneath my feet,— 10 Thus much I know that, a poor witless elf,

I tread on them,—that all my eye doth meet Is mist and crag, not only on this height, But in the world of thought and mental might!

BEN NEVIS

A DIALOGUE

[PERSONS: MRS. CAMERON AND BEN NEVIS]

MRS. C.

UPON my life Sir Nevis I am pique'd
That I have so far panted tugg'd and reek'd
To do an hono[u]r to your old bald pate
And now am sitting on you just to bate,
Without your paying me one compliment.
Alas 'tis so with all, when our intent
Is plain, and in the eye of all Mankind
We fair ones show a preference, too blind!
You Gentle man immediately turn tail-
O let me then my hapless fate bewail!

10

The Ben Nevis dialogue is from a letter to Tom. Keats describes the ascent, and adds-After all there was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age and the fattest woman in all Invernessshire who got up this Mountain some few years ago-true she had her servants-but then she had herself. . . 'Tis said a little conversation took place between the mountain and the Lady. After taking a glass of W[h]iskey as she was tolerably seated #ease she thus began.

Ungrateful Baldpate, have I not disdain'd
The pleasant Valleys-have I not, madbrain'd,
Deserted all my Pickles and preserves,

My China closet too-with wretched Nerves
To boot-say, wretched ingrate, have I not
Le[f]t my soft cushion chair and caudle pot?
"Tis true I had no corns-no! thank the fates,
My Shoemaker was always Mr. Bates.

And if not Mr. Bates why I'm not old! Still dumb, ungrateful Nevis-still so cold! 20 Here the Lady took some more w[h]iskey and was putting even more to her lips when she dashed [it] to the Ground for the Mountain began to grumblewhich continued for a few minutes before he thus began,

BEN NEVIS.

What whining bit of tongue and Mouth thus dares
Disturb my slumber of a thousand years?
Even so long my sleep has been secure-
And to be so awaked I'll not endure.

Oh pain-for since the Eagle's earliest scream
I've had a dam[n]'d confounded ugly dream,

A Nightmare sure. What, Madam, was it you?
It cannot be! My old eyes are not true!
Red-Crag, my Spectacles! Now let me see!
Good Heavens, Lady, how the gemini
Did you get here? O I shall split my sides!
I shall earthquake-

MRS. C.

Sweet Nevis, do not quake, for though I love
You[r] honest Countenance all things above,
Truly I should not like to be convey'd
So far into your Bosom-gentle Maid
Loves not too rough a treatment, gentle Sir-
Pray thee be calm and do not quake nor stir,
No not a Stone, or I shall go in fits--

22 Disturb] distur'd Letter.

30

26 It is not quite clear whether the word in the letter is dam'd or darn'd.

29 As regards Red-Crag, Keats explains A domestic of Ben's.

BEN NEVIS.

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50

I must-I shall-I meet not such tit bits-
I meet not such sweet creatures every day-
By my old night-cap, night-cap night and day,
I must have one sweet Buss-I must and shall!
Red-Crag !-What, Madam, can you then repent
Of all the toil and vigour you have spent
To see Ben Nevis and to touch his nose?
Red-Crag, I say! O I must have them close!
Red-Crag, there lies beneath my farthest toe
A vein of Sulphur-go dear Red-Crag, go-
And rub your flinty back against it-budge!
Dear Madam, I must kiss you, faith I must!
I must Embrace you with my dearest gust!
Block-head, d'ye hear-Block-head, I'll make herfeel-
There lies beneath my east leg's northern heel
A cave of young earth dragons-well, my boy,
Go thither quick and so complete my joy;
Take you a bundle of the largest pines
And when the sun on fiercest Phosphor shines
Fire them and ram them in the Dragon's nest,
Then will the dragons fry and fizz their best
Until ten thousand now no bigger than
Poor Al[1]igators-poor things of one span-
Will each one swell to twice ten times the size
Of northern whale then for the tender prize-
The moment then-for then will Red-Crag rub
His flinty back-and I shall kiss and snub
And press my dainty morsel to my breast.
Block-head, make haste!

O Muses weep the rest-
The Lady fainted and he thought her dead
So pulled the clouds again about his head
And went to sleep again-soon she was rous'd
By her affrighted servants-next day hous'd
Safe on the lowly ground she bless'd her fate
That fainting fit was not delayed too late.

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70

53 Keats explains that Block-head is Another domestic of Ben's. 74 He adds here in plain prose: But what surprises me above all is how this Lady got down again. I felt it horribly. 'Twas the most vile descent-shook me all to pieces.

TRANSLATION FROM A SONNET OF RONSARD NATURE withheld Cassandra in the skies,

For more adornment, a full thousand years; She took their cream of Beauty's fairest dyes, And shap'd and tinted her above all Peers: Meanwhile Love kept her dearly with his wings, And underneath their shadow fill'd her eyes With such a richness that the cloudy Kings Of high Olympus utter'd slavish sighs. When from the Heavens I saw her first descend, My heart took fire, and only burning pains, 10 They were my pleasures-they my Life's sad end; Love pour'd her beauty into my warm veins...

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen-
For what listen they?

For a song and for a charm,

See they glisten in alarm,

And the moon is waxing warm

To hear what I shall say.

Moon! keep wide thy golden ears

Hearken, stars! and hearken, spheres!

Hearken, thou eternal sky!

I sing an infant's lullaby,
A pretty lullaby.
Listen, listen, listen, listen,

Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
And hear my lullaby!

Though the rushes that will make
Its cradle still are in the lake-

Sonnet 3 dyes] dies MS.

10