LIX.

Therefore they watch'd a time when they might sift
This hidden whim; and long they watch'd in vain;
For seldom did she go to chapel-shrift,
And seldom felt she any hunger-pain;
And when she left, she hurried back, as swift
As bird on wing to breast its eggs again;
And, patient as a hen-bird, sat her there
Beside her Basil, weeping through her hair.

LX.

Yet they contriv'd to steal the Basil-pot,
And to examine it in secret place;
The thing was vile with green and livid spot,
And yet they knew it was Lorenzo's face:
The guerdon of their murder they had got,
And so left Florence in a moment's space,
Never to turn again.-Away they went,
With blood upon their heads, to banishment.

LXI.

O Melancholy, turn thine eyes away!
O Music, Music, breathe despondingly!

O Echo, Echo, on some other day,

From isles Lethean, sigh to us-O sigh!
Spirits of grief, sing not your "Well-a-way!"
For Isabel, sweet Isabel, will die;

Will die a death too lone and incomplete,
Now they have ta'en away her Basil sweet.

LXII.

Piteous she look'd on dead and senseless things,
Asking for her lost Basil amorously;
And with melodious chuckle in the strings

Of her lorn voice, she oftentimes would cry
After the Pilgrim in his wanderings,

To ask him where her Basil was; and why "Twas hid from her: "For cruel 'tis," said she, "To steal my Basil-pot away from me."

LX 6-7 The punctuation of the holograph brings out a shade of difference in the sense, thus

And so left Florence in a moment's space-
Never to turn again away they went...

LXIII.

And so she pined, and so she died forlorn,
Imploring for her Basil to the last.

No heart was there in Florence but did mourn
In pity of her love, so overcast.

And a sad ditty of this story born

From mouth to mouth through all the country pass'd: Still is the burthen sung-"O cruelty,

"To steal my Basil-pot away from me!"

THE EVE OF ST. AGNES

I.

ST. Agnes' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:

Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,

Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

II.

His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees:

The sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze, Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails:

Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat❜ries, He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails.

III.

Northward he turneth through a little door,
And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue
Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor;

But no-already had his deathbell rung:

The joys of all his life were said and sung: His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve: Another way he went, and soon among Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve, And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve.

III 7, 8 went... Rough] turn'd... Black Woodhouse transcript.

IV.

That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft;
And so it chanc'd, for many a door was wide,
From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,
The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide :
The level chambers, ready with their pride,
Were glowing to receive a thousand guests:
The carved angels, ever eager-eyed,

Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts.

V.

At length burst in the argent revelry,
With plume, tiara, and all rich array,
Numerous as shadows haunting faerily

The brain, new stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay
Of old romance. These let us wish away,
And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there,
Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,
On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care,
As she had heard old dames full many times declare.

IV After Stanza III the Woodhouse transcript has the following stanza, suppressed in the poem as printed—

But there are ears may hear sweet melodies,
And there are eyes to brighten festivals,
And there are feet for nimble minstrelsies,
And many a lip that for the red wine calls.-
Follow, then follow to the illumined halls,
Follow me youth and leave the eremite-
Give him a tear-then trophied banneral[s]
And many a brilliant tasseling of light

Shall droop from arched ways this high baronial night.

In what is now Stanza IV, Woodhouse has and now aloft for Soon, up aloft, in line 3, and Seem'd anxious for Were glowing in line G. Keats's transcript reads High-lamped for The level in line 5. V 1 At length step in the urgent revelers Woodhouse.

6.

2 With tiard [error for tiara] and plume and rich array

3-6

G. Keats.

Ah what are they? the idle pulse scarce stirs,
The muse should never make the spirit gay;
Away, bright dulness, laughing fools away,-
And let me tell of one sweet lady there... Woodhouse.

VI.

They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, Young virgins might have visions of delight, And soft adorings from their loves receive Upon the honey'd middle of the night, If ceremonies due they did aright; As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lilly white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.

VII.

Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline:
The music, yearning like a God in pain,
She scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine,
Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train
Pass by-she heeded not at all: in vain
Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier,

And back retir'd; not cool'd by high disdain,
But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere:
She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the

year.

VI Between Stanzas VI and VII G. Keats has the following stanza, not in the printed text

'Twas said her future lord would there appear
Offering as sacrifice-all in the dream-
Delicious food even to her lips brought near:
Viands and wine and fruit and sugar'd cream,
To touch her palate with the fine extreme
Of relish then soft music heard; and then
More pleasures followed in a dizzy stream
Palpable almost: then to wake again

Warm in the virgin morn, no weeping Magdalen.

VII In a letter to Taylor dated the 11th of June 1820, Keats says he has been reading the proofs, and has found "what appears” to be an alteration here, namely—

her maiden eyes incline

Still on the floor, while many a sweeping train

Pass by.

"My meaning,' says the poet, "is quite destroyed by the alteration. I do not use train' for concourse of passers by,' but for 'skirts' sweeping along the floor."