A curious volume, patch'd and torn,
That all day long, from earliest morn,
Had taken captive her two eyes,
Among its golden broideries;

Perplex'd her with a thousand things,-
The stars of Heaven, and angels' wings,
Martyrs in a fiery blaze,

Azure saints in silver rays,

Moses' breastplate, and the seven
Candlesticks John saw in Heaven,
The winged Lion of Saint Mark,
And the Covenantal Ark,
With its many mysteries,
Cherubim and golden mice.

Bertha was a maiden fair,

Dwelling in the old Minster-square;
From her fire-side she could see,
Sidelong, its rich antiquity,
Far as the Bishop's garden-wall;
Where sycamores and elm-trees tall,
Full-leav'd, the forest had outstript,
By no sharp north-wind ever nipt,
So shelter'd by the mighty pile.
Bertha arose, and read awhile,
With forehead 'gainst the window-pane.
Again she try'd, and then again,
Until the dusk eve left her dark
Upon the legend of St. Mark.

From plaited lawn-frill, fine and thin,
She lifted up her soft warm chin,
With aching neck and swimming eyes,
And daz'd with saintly imageries.

All was gloom, and silent all,
Save now and then the still foot-fall

40 the old MS.: th' old Houghton.

52 Upon] Amid MS., cancelled.

53-4 She look abroa.

She rais'd her head and all was gloom
S[h]e rais'd he[r] swimming eyes and all
Was hidden in a cloudy pall MS., cancelled.

30

40

50

60

Of one returning homewards late,
Past the echoing minster-gate.

The clamorous daws, that all the day
Above tree-tops and towers play,
Pair by pair had gone to rest,
Each in its ancient belfry-nest,
Where asleep they fall betimes,
To music of the drowsy chimes.
All was silent, all was gloom,
Abroad and in the homely room:
Down she sat, poor cheated soul!

60

And struck a lamp from the dismal coal; 70
Lean'd forward, with bright drooping hair
And slant book, full against the glare.
Her shadow, in uneasy guise,
Hover'd about, a giant size,

On ceiling-beam and old oak chair,
The parrot's cage, and panel square;
And the warm angled winter screen,
On which were many monsters seen,
Call'd doves of Siam, Lima mice,
And legless birds of Paradise,
Macaw, and tender Avadavat,
And silken-furr'd Angora cat.
Untir'd she read, her shadow still
Glower'd about, as it would fill

The room with wildest forms and shades,
As though some ghostly queen of spades
Had come to mock behind her back,
And dance, and ruffle her garments black.

By

Through

80

the [now?] echoing Minster gate MS., rejected.

63 Were gone long ago, MS., cancelled.

66 The reading of the for and the is from the manuscript. 68 Both abroad and in the room: MS., rejected.

69-70 The Maiden lost in dizzy maze

Tu[r]n'd to the fire and made a blaze MS., cancelled.

77 And angled screen MS., cancelled.

79 Java Pheasants, Doves of Siam cancelled for Doves of Siam, Lima Mice MS.

83 She read untird MS., cancelled.

86 some] three MS., cancelled: Queens MS.

88 her] their MS., cancelled.

Untir'd she read the legend page,
Of holy Mark, from youth to age,
On land, on sea, in pagan chains,
Rejoicing for his many pains.
Sometimes the learned eremite,
With golden star, or dagger bright,
Referr❜d to pious poesies

Written in smallest crow-quill size
Beneath the text; and thus the rhyme
Was parcell'd out from time to time:
"Als writith he of swevenis,

90

100

Men han beforne they wake in bliss,
Whanne that hir friendes thinke hem bound
In crimped shroude farre under grounde;
And how a litling child mote be

A saint er its nativitie,

Gif that the modre (God her blesse !)
Kepen in solitarinesse,

And kissen devoute the holy croce.
Of Goddes love, and Sathan's force,-
He writith; and thinges many mo:
Of swiche thinges I may not show.
Bot I must tellen verilie
Somdel of Sainte Cicilie,

And chieflie what he auctorethe
Of Sainte Markis life and dethe:

At length her constant eyelids come
Upon the fervent martyrdom ;
Then lastly to his holy shrine,
Exalt amid the tapers' shine
At Venice,-

89 page] tales MS., cancelled.

93 eremite] Monk referr'd MS., cancelled.
95 poesies] Madrigal MS., cancelled.
101 hem MS.: him Houghton.

104 nativitie] nativity MS., rejected.
105 If altered to Gif MS.

110

102 crimped] crimpid MS.

108 Goddis MS.

ODE TO FANNY

I.

PHYSICIAN Nature! let my spirit blood!

O ease my heart of verse and let me rest;
Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood
Of stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast.
A theme! a theme! great nature! give a theme;
Let me begin my dream.

I come-I see thee, as thou standest there,
Beckon me not into the wintry air.

II.

Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears,
And hopes, and joys, and panting miseries,-
To-night, if I may guess, thy beauty wears
A smile of such delight,

As brilliant and as bright,

As when with ravished, aching, vassal eyes,
Lost in soft amaze,

I gaze, I gaze!

III.

Who now, with greedy looks, eats up my feast?
What stare outfaces now my silver moon!
Ah! keep that hand unravished at the least;
Let, let, the amorous burn-

But, pr'ythee, do not turn.

The current of your heart from me so soon.
O! save, in charity,

The quickest pulse for me.

IV.

Save it for me, sweet love! though music breathe Voluptuous visions into the warm air;

Though swimming through the dance's dangerous wreath,

Be like an April day,

Smiling and cold and gay,

A temperate lilly, temperate as fair;
Then, Heaven! there will be

A warmer June for me.

I 8 not] probably a mistake for out.

II 7 Lost in a soft amaze would be more Keats like.

V.

Why, this-you'll say, my Fanny! is not true: Put your soft hand upon your snowy side, Where the heart beats: confess-'tis nothing newMust not a woman be

A feather on the sea,

Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide ?
Of as uncertain speed

As blow-ball from the mead?

VI.

I know it and to know it is despair

To one who loves you as I love, sweet Fanny! Whose heart goes fluttering for you every where, Nor, when away you roam,

Dare keep its wretched home,

Love, love alone, his pains severe and many:
Then, loveliest! keep me free,

From torturing jealousy.

VII.

Ah! if you prize my subdued soul above
The poor, the fading, brief, pride of an hour;
Let none profane my Holy See of love,

Or with a rude hand break

The sacramental cake:

Let none else touch the just new-budded flower; If not-may my eyes close,

Love! on their lost repose.

SONNET

TO SLEEP

O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close

In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes, Sonnet 4 As wearisome as darkness is divine Dilke, draft. 6 My willing eyes in midst of this thine hymn Draft.