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How beautiful thou art! The world how deep! Will be its high remembrancers: who they ? How tremulous-dazzlingly the wheels sweep The mighty ones who have made eternal day Around their axle! Then these gleaming reins, For Greece and England. While astonishment How lithe! When this thy chariot attains With deep-drawn sighs was quieting, he went Its airy goal, haply some bower veils
Into a marble gallery, passing through Those twilight eyes? Those eyes !—my spirit fails- A mimic temple, so complete and true Dear goddess, help! or the wide-gaping air
In sacred custom, that he well-nigh fear'd Will gulf mehelp!"-At this, with madden'd stare. To search it inwards; whence far off appear'd, And lifted hands, and trembling lips, he stood; Through a long pillar'd vista, a fair shrine, Like old Deucalion mountain'd o'er the flood, And, just beyond, on light tiptoe divine, Or blind Orion hungry for the morn.
A quiver'd Dian. Stepping awfully, And, but from the deep cavern there was borne The youth approach'd; oft turning his veil'd eye A voice, he had been froze to senseless stone; Down sidelong aisles, and into niches old : Nor sigh of his, nor plaint, nor passion'd moan And, when more near against the marble cold Had more been heard. Thus swell'd it forth : " De- He had touch'd his forehead, he began to thread scend,
All courts and passages, where silence dead,
And long he traversed to and fro, to acquaint
Of a wide outlet, fathomless and dim,
To wild uncertainty and shadows grim. Into the deadening ether that still charms
There, when new wonders ceased to float before, Their marble being : now, as deep profound And thoughts of self came on, how crude and sore As those are high, descend! He ne'er is crown'd The journey homeward to habitual self! With immortality, who fears to follow
A mad-pursuing of the fog-born elf, Where airy voices lead: so through the hollow, Whose fitting lantern, through rude nettle-brier, The silent mysteries of earth, descend !"
Cheats us into a swamp, into a fire,
Into the bosom of a hated thing.
In lone Endymion's ear, now he has caught 'T was far too strange, and wonderful for sadness; The goal of consciousness ? Ah, 't is the thought, Sharpening, by degrees, his appetite
The deadly feel of solitude : for, lo! To dive into the deepest. Dark, nor light,
He cannot see the heavens, nor the flow The region ; nor bright, nor sombre wholly, Of rivers, nor hill-flowers running wild But mingled up; a gleaming melancholy ; In pink and purple chequer, nor up-piled, A dusky empire and its diadems;
The cloudy rack slow journeying in the west, One faint eternal eventide of gems.
Like herded elephants; nor felt, nor prest Ay, millions sparkled on a vein of gold,
Cool grass, nor tasted the fresh slumberous air; Along whose track the prince quick footsteps told, But far from such companionship to wear With all its lines abrupt and angular:
An unknown time, surcharged with grief, away, Out-shooting sometimes, like a meteor-star,
Was now his lot. And must he patient stay, Through a vast antre; then the metal woof, Tracing fantastic figures with his spear? Like Vulcan's rainbow, with some monstrous roof “No!” exclaimed he, “Why should I tarry here?" Curves hugely: now, far in the deep abyss, No! loudly echoed times innumerable. It seems an angry lightning, and doth hiss
At which he straightway started, and 'gan tell Fancy into belief: anon it leads
His paces back into the temple's chief; Through winding passages, where sameness breeds Warming and glowing strong in the belief Vexing conceptions of some sudden change ; Of help from Dian : so that when again Whether to silver grots, or giant range
He caught her airy form, thus did he plain, Of sapphire columns, or fantastic bridge
Moving more near the while. “O Haunter chaste Athwart a flood of crystal. On a ridge
Of river sides, and woods, and heathy waste, Now fareth he, that o'er the vast beneath
Where with thy silver bow and arrows keen Towers like an ocean-cliff, and whence he seeth Art thou now forested? O woodland Queen, A hundred waterfalls, whose voices come
What smoothest air thy smoother forehead wooes ? But as the murmuring surge. Chilly and numb Where dost thou listen to the wide halloos His bosom grew, when first he, far away,
Of thy disparted nymphs ? Through what dark tree Descried an orbed diamond, set to fray
Glimmers thy crescent? Wheresoe'er it be, Old Darkness from his throne : 't was like the sun 'Tis in the breath of heaven: thou dost taste U prisen o'er chaos : and with such a stun
Freedom as none can taste it, nor dost waste Came the amazement, that, absorb’d in it,
Thy loveliness in dismal elements ; He saw not fiercer wonders-past the wit
But, finding in our green earth sweet contents, Of any spirit to tell, but one of those
There livest blissfully. Ah, if to thee Who, when this planet's sphering time doth closo, It feels Elysian, how rich to me,
KEATS'S POETICAL WORKS.
An exiled mortal, sounds its pleasant name! Brushing, awaken'd: then the sounds again
So saw he panting light, and towards it went
Through winding alleys; and lo, wonderment!
Upon soft verdure saw, one here, one there, Before mine eyes thick films and shadows float- Cupids a slumbering on their pinions fair. O let me 'noint them with the heaven's light! Dost thou now lave thy feet and ankles white ? O think how sweet to me the freshening sluice! After a thousand mazes overgone, Dost thou now please thy thirst with berry-juice ? At last, with sudden step, he came upon O think how this dry palate would rejoice! A chamber, myrtle-wall’d, embowerd high, If in soft slumber thou dost bear my voice, Full of light, incense, tender minstrelsy, O think how I should love a bed of flowers - And more of beautiful and strange beside : Young goddess ! let me see my native bowers! For on a silken couch of rosy pride, Deliver me from this rapacious deep!”
In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth
Of fondest beauty ; fonder, in fair sooth, Thus ending loudly, as he would o'erleap Than sighs could fathom, or contentment reach : His destiny, alert he stood : but when
And coverlids gold-tinted like the peach, Obstinate silence came heavily again,
Or ripe October's faded marigolds, Feeling about for its old couch of space
Fell sleek about him in a thousand foldsAnd airy cradle, lowly bow'd his face,
Not hiding up an Apollonian curve Desponding, o'er the marble floor's cold thrill. Of neck and shoulder, nor the tenting swerve But 't was not long ; for, sweeter than the rill of knee from knee, nor ankles pointing light; To its old channel, or a swollen tide
But rather, giving them to the hill'd sight
To slumbery pout; just as the morning south
Disparts a dew-lipp'd rose.
Above his head, In a long whispering birth enchanted grew Four lily stalks did their white honors wed Before his footsteps ; as when heaved anew To make a coronal; and round him grew Old ocean rolls a lengthen'd wave to the shore, All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue. Down whose green back the shortlived foam, all hoar, Together intertwined and tramellid fresh : Bursts gradual, with a wayward indolence. The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh,
Shading its Ethiop berries; and woodbine, Increasing still in heart, and pleasant sense, Of velvet leaves and bugle-blooms divine ; Upon his fairy journey on he hastes;
Convolvulus in streaked vases flush ;
Stood serene Cupids watching silently.
Muffling to death the pathos with his wings;
At the youth's slumber; while another took
In through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise
Rain'd violets upon his sleeping eyes.
At these enchantments, and yet many more,
To that same feather'd lyrist, who straightway, Half-happy, by comparison of bliss,
Smiling, thus whisper'd: “Though from upper day Is miserable. "Twas even so with this
Thou art a wanderer, and thy presence here Dew-dropping melody, in the Carian's ear; Might seem unholy, be of happy cheer! First heaven, then hell, and then forgotten clear, For 't is the nicest touch of human honor, Vanish'd in elemental passion.
When some ethereal and high-favoring donor
Presents immortal bowers to mortal sense ;
Was I in nowise startled. So recline
Alive with sparkles-never, I aver,
Rubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrists, Since Ariadne was a vintager,
And doubling overhead their little fists So cool a purple: taste these juicy pears,
In backward yawns. But all were soon alive : Sent me by sad Vertumnus, when his fears For as delicious wine doth, sparkling, dive Were high about Pomona : here is cream,
In nectar'd clouds and curls through water fair, Deepening to richness from a snowy gleam; So from the arbor roof down swellid an air Sweeter than that nurse Amalthea skimm'd Odorous and enlivening; making all For the boy Jupiter: and here, undimm'd
To laugh, and play, and sing, and loudly call By any touch, a bunch of blooming plums
For their sweet queen: when lo! the wreathed green Ready to melt between an infant's gums :
Disparted, and far upward could be seen And here is manna pick'd from Syrian trees, Blue heaven, and a silver car, air-borne, In starlight, by the three Hesperides.
Whose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds of mom, Feast on, and meanwhile I will let thee know Spun off a drizzling dew,—which falling chill Of all these things around us." He did so, On soft Adonis' shoulders, made him still Still brooding o'er the cadence of his lyre; Nestle and turn uneasily about. And thus: “I need not any hearing tire
Soon were the white doves plain, with necks stretch'd By telling how the sea-born goddess pined
out, For a mortal youth, and how she strove to bind And silken traces lighten'd in descent; Him all in all unto her doting self.
And soon, returning from love's banishmert,
Her shadow fell upon his breast, and charm'd
Into his eyes. Ah, miserable strife,
But for her comforting! unhappy sight, When on the pleasant grass such love, lovelorn, But meeting her blue orbs! Who, who can write Lay sorrowing; when every tear was born Of these first minutes ? The unchariest muse Of diverse passion; when her lips and eyes To embracements warm as theirs makes coy excuse. Were closed in sullen moisture, and quick sighs Came ver'd and pettish through her nostrils small. O it has ruffled every spirit there, Ilush! no exclaim-yet, justly mightst thou call Saving Love's self, who stands superb to share Curses upon his head.--I was half glad,
The general gladness : awfully he stands; But my poor mistress went distract and mad, A sovereign quell is in his waving hands; When the boar tusk'd him : so away she flew No sight can bear the lightning of his bow; To Jove's high throne, and by her plainings drew His quiver is mysterious, none can know Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer's beard; What themselves think of it; from forth his eyes Whereon, it was decreed he should be rear'd There darts strange light of varied hues and dyes : Each summer-time to life. Lo! this is he,
A scowl is sometimes on his brow, but who That same Adonis, safe in the privacy
Look full upon it feel anon the blue Of this still region all his winter-sleep.
Of his fair eyes run liquid through their souls. Ay, sleep; for when our love-sick queen did weep Endymion feels it, and no more controls Over his waned corse, the tremulous shower The burning prayer within him; so, bent low, Heal'd up the wound, and, with a balmy power, He had begun a plaining of his woe. Medicined death to a lengthen'd drowsiness : But Venus, bending forward, said : “My child, The which she fills with visions, and doth dress Favor this gentle youth ; his days are wild In all this quiet luxury; and hath set
With love-he--but alas! too well I see L's young immortals, without any let,
Thou know'st the deepness of his misery. To watch his slumber through. "Tis well-nigh pass’d, Ah, smile not so, my son: I tell thee true, Even to a moment's filling up, and fast
That when through heavy hours I used to rue She scuds with summer breezes, to pant through The endless sleep of this new-born Adon', The first long kiss, warm firstling, to renew This stranger aye I pitied. For upon Embower'd sports in Cytherea's isle.
A dreary morning once I fled away Look, how those winged listeners all this while Into the breezy clouds, to weep and pray Stand anxious : see! behold !”– This clamant word For this my love: for vexing Mars had teased Broke through the careful silence; for they heard Me even to tears: thence, when a litile eased, A rustling noise of leaves, and out there flutter'd Down-looking, vacant, through a hazy wood, Pigeons and doves : Adonis something mutter'd, I saw this youth as he despairing stood : The while one hand, that erst upon his thigh Those same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind; Lay dormant, moved convulsed and gradually Those same full fringed lids a constant blind Up to his forehead. Then there was a hum Over his sullen eyes : I saw him throw Of sudden voices, echoing, “ Come! come! Himself on wither'd leaves, even as though Arise! awake! Clear summer has forth walk'd Death had come sudden; for no jot he moved, Unto the clover-sward, and she has talk'd
Yet mutter'd wildly. I could hear he loved Full soothingly to every nested finch:
Some fair immortal, and that his embrace Rise, Cupids! or we'll give the bluebell pinch Had zoned her through the night. There is no trace To your dimpled arms. Once more sweet life begin!"" of this in heaven: I have mark'd each cheek, At this, from every side they hurried in,
And find it is the vainest thing to seek;
And that of all things 'tis kept secretest.
And purblind amid foggy midnight wolds.
But he revives at once: for who beholds
New sudden things, nor casts his mental slough?
Came mother Cybele! alone-alone-
In sombre chariot; dark foldings thrown
Their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws
This shadowy queen athwart, and faints away
Art thou wayworn, or canst not further trace
The diamond path? And does it indeed end
Abrupt in middle air? Yet earthward bend Of happy times, when all he had endured
Thy forehead, and to Jupiter cloud-borne Would seem a feather to the mighty prize.
Call ardently! He was indeed wayworn; So, with unusual gladness, on he hies
Abrupt, in middle air, his way was lost;
To cloud-borne Jove he bowed, and there crost Through caves, and palaces of mottled ore, Gold dome, and crystal wall, and turquoise floor,
Towards him a large eagle, 't wixt whose wings,
Without one impkous word, himself he flings, Black polish'd porticoes of awful shade,
Committed to the darkness and the gloom : And, at the last, a diamond balustrade,
Down, down, uncertain to whai pleasant doom, Leading afar past wild magnificence,
Swift as a fathoming plummet down he fell Spiral through ruggedest loop-holes, and thence
Through unknown things; till exhaled asphodel, Stretching across a void, then guiding o'er Enormous chasms, where, all foam and roar,
And rose, with spicy fannings interbreathed, Streams subterranean tease their granite beds ;
Came swelling forth where little caves were wreathed
So thick with leaves and mosses, that they seemd Then heighten'd just above the silvery heads Of a thousand fountains, so that he could dash
Large honeycombs of green, and freshly feemd
With airs delicious. In the greenest nook
The eagle landed him, and farewell took.
With golden moss. His every sense had grown
Was Hesperean ; to his capable ears
A dewy luxury was in his eyes ;
And stirr'd them faintly. Verdant cave and cell Which, in a wink, to watery gauze refined, He wander'd through, oft wondering at such swell Pour'd into shapes of curtain'd canopies,
Of sudden exaltation : but, “ Alas!"
Said he, “ will all this gush of feeling pass
Without an echo ? Then shall I be left
Yet still I feel immortal! O my love,
My breath of life, where art thou ? High above, Cathedrals call'd. He bade a loth farewell
Dancing before the morning gates of heaven? To these founts Protean, passing gulf, and dell, Or keeping watch among those starry seven, And torrent, and ten thousand jutting shapes, Old Atlas' children? Art a maid of the waters, Half-seen through deepest gloom, and grisly gapes, One of shell-winding Triton's bright-hair'd daughters! Blackening on every side, and overhead
Or art, impossible! a nymph of Dian's A vaulted dome like Heaven's, far bespread Weaving a coronal of tender scions With starlight gems: aye, all so huge and strange, For very idleness? Where'er thou art, The solitary felt a hurried change
Methinks it now is at my will to start Working within him into something dreary, - Into thine arms; to scare Aurora's train, Vex'd like a morning eagle, lost, and weary,
And snatch thee from the morning ; o'er the main
To scud like a wild bird, and take thee off Endymion! dearest! Ah, unhappy me!
His soul will ’scape us— felicity!
To the very tune of love-how sweet, sweet, sweet! Its powerless self: I know this cannot be.
Revive, dear youth, or I shall faint and die;
My lips to thine, that they may richly feast
Until we taste the life of love again.
Yet, can I not to starry eminence
And I must blush in heaven. O that I
Had done it already! that the dreadful smiles O'fountain'd hill! Old Homer's Helicon!
At my lost brightness, my impassion'd wiles, That thou wouldst spout a little streamlet o'er Had waned from Olympus' solemn height, These sorry pages; then the verse would soar And from all serious Gods; that our delight And sing above this gentle pair, like lark
Was quite forgotten, save of us alone! Over his nested young : but all is dark
And wherefore so ashamed? "Tis but to atone Around thine aged top, and thy clear fount For endless pleasure, by some coward blushes : Exhales in mists to Heaven. Ay, the count Yet must I be a coward! Horror rushes Of mighty Poets is made up; the scroll
Too palpable before me—the sad look Is folded by the Muses; the bright roll
Of Jove-Minerva's start-no bosom shook
With awe of purity-no Cupid pinion
But what is this to love ? Oh! I could fly
With thee into the ken of heavenly powers, That there is no old power left to steep
So thou wouldst thus, for many sequent hours, A quill immortal in their joyous tears.
Press me so sweetly. Now I swear at once Long time in silence did their anxious fears That I am wise, that Pallas is a dunceQuestion that thus it was; long time they lay Perhaps her love like mine is but unknownFondling and kissing every doubt away;
Oh! I do think that I have been alone Long time ere soft caressing sobs began
In chastity! yes, Pallas has been sighing, To mellow into words, and then there ran
While every eve saw me my hair uptying Two bubbling springs of talk from their sweet lips. With fingers cool as aspen leaves. Sweet love! “O known Unknown! from whom my being sips I was as vague as solitary dove, Such darling essence, wherefore may I not Nor knew that nests were built. Now a soft kiss— Be ever in these arms? in this sweet spot
Ay, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss, Pillow my chin for ever? ever press
An immortality of passion's thine : These toying hands and kiss their smooth excess? Ere long I will exalt thee to the shine Why not for ever and for ever feel
Of heaven ambrosial; and we will shade
And I will tell thee stories of the sky,
O let me melt into thee! let the sounds
Of human words ! roughness of mortal speech! How can we part ? Elysium! who art thou? Lispings empyrean will I sometimes teach Who, that thou canst not be for ever here, Thine honey'd tongue-lute-breathings, which I gasp Or lift me with thee to some starry sphere? To have thee understand, now while I clasp Enchantress! tell me by this soft embrace,
Thee thus, and weep for fondness, I am pain'd, By the most soft complexion of thy face,
Endymion : woe! woe! is grief contain'd Those lips, O slippery blisses ! twinkling eyes, In the very deeps of pleasure, my sole life !"And by these tenderest, milky sovereignties- Hereat, with many sobs, her gentle strife These tenderest, and by the nectar-wine,
Melted into a languor. He return'd The passion" _loved Ida the divine ! Entranced vows and tears.