XII.

Has any here a pious spouse
Who seven times a day

Scolds as King David pray'd, to chouse
And have her holy way-

Of late two dainties were before me plac'd
Sweet, holy, pure, sacred and innocent,

From the ninth sphere to me benignly sent
That Gods might know my own particular taste:
First the soft Bag-pipe mourn'd with zealous haste,
The Stranger next with head on bosom bent
Sigh'd; rueful again the piteous Bag-pipe went,
Again the Stranger sighings fresh did waste.
O Bag-pipe thou didst steal my heart away—
O Stranger thou my nerves from Pipe didst charm—
O Bag-pipe thou didst re-assert thy sway-

Again thou Stranger gav'st me fresh alarmAlas! I could not choose. Ah! my poor heart, Mum chance art thou with both oblig'd to part.

11

STAFFA

NOT Aladdin magian

Ever such a work began;
Not the wizard of the Dee
Ever such a dream could see;
Not St. John, in Patmos' Isle.
In the passion of his toil,
When he saw the churches seven,
Golden aisl'd, built up in heaven,
Gaz'd at such a rugged wonder.
As I stood its roofing under,
Lo! I saw one sleeping there,
On the marble cold and bare.
While the surges wash'd his feet,
And his garments white did beat

10

What appears to have been the first draft of the Staffa poem was written in the fresh enthusiasm inspired by the spectacle. A copy of the draft was made by Brown and sent to Severn: it ended with line 49 of the text,-lines 50 and 51 being added in pencil. In writing to his brother Tom, Keats vividly described Staffa, including Fingal's Cave, and, after saying "But it is impossible to describe it," inserted a matured version of the poem, with the following lines added to what Brown had copied for Severn:

'Tis now free to stupid face,

To cutters, and to Fashion boats,
To cravats and to petticoats:-
The great sea shall war it down,
For its fame shall not be blown
At each farthing Quadrille dance.
So saying with a spirit's glance
He dived.

He resumed prose with "I am sorry I am so indolent as to write such stuff as this," meaning, probably, the six lines of doggerel added there and then in a wholly different mood from that of the poem. Woodhouse transcribed "Staffa" in his Common-place book to line 49, adding the rest in pencil. The holograph letter to Tom reads (by a slip) in line 45 stupid for dulled, and by another in line 27 architected. The circumstances do not warrant the restoration of the doggerel lines to the text. The Brown transcript has some trifling textual variations. In line 9 it reads on for at,-for line 31

Here his dolphins, one and all,

in line 41 Here for Where (lines 39 and 40 not being there), and for line 46

Has dar'd. to pass the rocky portal.

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;
"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:

66

"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."

20

30

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 tease 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.