Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, [PUBLISHED 1818] ENDYMION: A POETIC ROMANCE. "THE STRETChed metre of AN ANTIQUE SONG." INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. PREFACE. KNOWING Within myself the manner in which this Poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that I make it public. What manner I mean, will be quite clear to the reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, and every error denoting a feverish attempt, rather than a deed accomplished. The two first books, and indeed the two last, I feel sensible are not of such completion as to warrant their passing the press; nor should they if I thought a year's castigation would do them any good; —it will not: the foundations are too sandy. It is just that this youngster should die away: a sad thought for me, if I had not some hope that while it is dwindling I may be plotting, and fitting myself for verses fit to live. This may be speaking too presumptuously, and may deserve a punishment but no feeling man will be forward to inflict it: he will leave me alone, with the conviction that there is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object. This is not written with the least atom of purpose to forestall criticisms of course, but from the desire I have to conciliate men who are competent to look, and who do look with a zealous eye, to the honour of English literature. The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness, and all the thousand bitters which those men I speak of must necessarily taste in going over the following pages. I hope I have not in too late a day touched the beautiful mythology of Greece, and dulled its brightness: for I wish to try once more, before I bid it farewell. TEIGNMOUTH, April 10, 1818. ENDYMION. Book I. A THING of beauty is a joy for ever: A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 5 A flowery band to bind us to the earth, With the green world they live in; and clear rills Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: And such too is the grandeur of the dooms IO 15 20 Nor do we merely feel these essences Therefore, 't is with full happiness that I Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 |