{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "Book Jl_05_..\\nCOPYRIGHT DEPOSIT", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3082", "width": "1726", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "KEATS S POEMS\\ni? -6-\\nCabinet C Uition", "height": "3082", "width": "1726", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "I ll mu wm mm tii m m m m m m mm m w i fiumw m im m ami m man m m m mj \u00c2\u00bbia m m m,i\u00c2\u00abi m \u00c2\u00bbi\\noojiaoaaaofljaiiijocoQoanopooa^", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "THE COMPLETE POETICAL\\nWORKS OF\\nJOHN KEATS\\nCabinet Cl;tittton\\nBtberffi6c:Pr^\\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK\\nHOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY\\n(CbE 0iVJcr?ibE ^xzsSy \u00e2\u0082\u00acambnb0e", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "55890\\nOCT 3 1900\\ncopyright \u00e2\u0080\u00a2ntry\\nStCCND COPY.\\nOROtH DIVISION,\\nOCT 13 I90U\\n.Foo\\nCOPYRIGHT, 1900\\nBY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "v", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "PUBLISHEES NOTE\\nThe editor of the Cambridge Edition of The\\nComplete Poetical Works and Letters of John Keats\\nmade a careful examination of the volumes pub-\\nlished by Keats during his life, and also of the\\nposthumously published poems, with a view to\\nsecuring an authoritative text. He also studied an\\narrangement of the poetical works which should be\\nchronological as regards the body of his poetry, and\\nshould discriminate in a measure between his seri-\\nous and acknowledged work and his pastime. The\\narrangement and the text of this Cabinet Edition\\nare those of the Cambridge, and the contents\\ninclude the whole of Keats s verse.\\nAutumn, 1900.", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "TABLE OF CONTENTS\\nPAGE\\nEARLY POEMS.\\nImitation of Spenseb 1\\nOn Death 2\\nTo Chattebton 2\\nTo Byron 3\\nWoman when I behold thee flippant, vain 3\\nTo Some Ladies 5\\nOn receiving- a Curious Shell and a Copy of Verses\\nFROM the Same Ladies G\\nWritten on the Day that Mr. Leigh Hunt left Prison 8\\nTo Hope 8\\nOde to Apollo 10\\nHymn to Apollo 11\\nTo A Young Lady who sent me a Laurel Crown 12\\nSonnet How many bards gild the lapses of time 13\\nSonnet Keen, fitful gusts are whisp ring here and\\nthere 13\\nSpenserian Stanza, written at the Close op Canto II.,\\nBook V. of The Faerie Queene 14\\nOn leaving Some Friends at an Early Hour 14\\nOn first looking into Chapman s Homer 15\\nEpistle to George Felton Mathew 15\\nTo Hadst thou liv d in days op old 18\\nSonnet As from the darkening gloom a silver dove 20\\nSonnet to Solitude 20\\nSonnet To one who has been long in city pent 21\\nTo a Friend who sent me Some Roses 21\\nSonnet Oh how I love, on a fair summer s eve 22\\nI stood tiptoe upon a little hill 22\\nSleep and Poetry 29\\nEpistle to my Brother George 41\\nTo my Brother George 45\\nTo Had I a man s fair form, then might my sighs 46\\nSpecimen op an Induction to a Poem 46\\nCalidore A Fragment 48\\nEpistle to Charles Cowden Clarke 53\\nTo My Brothers 57\\nAddressed to Benjamin Robert Haydon.\\nI. Great spirits now on earth are sojourning 57\\nII. Highmindedness, a jealousy for good 58", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "viii TABLE OF CONTENTS\\nTo Kosciusko 58\\nTo G. A. W 59\\nStanzas In a drear-nighted December 59\\nWritten in Disgust of Vulgar Superstition 60\\nSonnet Happy is England I could be content 61\\nOn the Grasshopper and Cricket 61\\nSonnet After dark vapours ha\\\\ e oppress d our plains 62\\nWritten on the Blank Space at the end of Chaucer s\\nTale of The Floure and the Lefe 62\\nOn Seeing the Elgin Marbles 63\\nTo Haydon (^VITH the preceding sonnet) 63\\nTo Leigh Hunt, Esq 64\\nOn the Sea 64\\nLines Unfelt, unheard, unseen 65\\nOn Think not op it, sweet one, so 65\\nOn a Picture of Leander .66\\nOn Leigh Hunt s Poem The Story of Rimini 66\\nSonnet When I have fears that I may cease to be 67\\nOn seeing a Lock op Milton s Hair 67\\nOn sitting down to read King Lear once again 69\\nLines on the Mermaxd Tavern 69\\nRobin Hood 70\\nTo the Nile 72\\nTo Spenser 72\\nSong written on a Blank Page in Beaumont and Fletch-\\ner s Works between Cupid s Revenge and The Two\\nNoble Kinsmen 73\\nFragment Welcome Joy and welcome Sorrow 74\\nWhat the Thrush said 75\\nWritten in Answer to a Sonnet ending thus\\nDark eyes are dearer far\\nThan those that mock the hyacinthine bell. 75\\nTo John Hamilton Reynolds 70\\nThe Human Seasons 76\\nENDYMION 77\\nTHE POEMS OF 1818-1819.\\nIsabella, or the Pot of Basil 192\\nTo Homer 209\\nFragment op an Ode to Maia 209\\nSong Hush, hush tread softly hush, hush, my dear 210\\nVerses written during a Tour in Scotland.\\nI. On Visiting the Tomb op Burns 211\\nII. To AiLSA Rock 211\\nIII. Written in the Cottage where Buens was born 212\\nIV. At Fingal s Cave 213\\nV. Written upon the Top of Ben Nevis 214", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "TABLE OF CONTENTS ix\\nTranslation from a Sonnet op Ronsard 215\\nTo A Lady seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall .215\\nFancy 216\\nOde Bards of Passion and of Mirth 218\\nSong I had a dove and the sweet dove died .219\\nOde on Melancholy 220\\nThe Eve of St. Agnes 221\\nOde on a Grecian Urn 234\\nOde on Indolence 236\\nSonnet Why did I laugh to-night No voice will\\ntell\\n238\\nOde to Fanny 238\\nA Dream, after reading Dante s Episode of Paolo and\\nFrancesca 240\\nLa Belle Dame sans Merci 240\\nChorus of Fairies 242\\nFaery Songs:\\nI. Shed no tear O shed no tear 246\\nII. Ah WOE is me poor silver- wing 246\\nOn Fame 247\\nAnother on Fame 248\\nTo Sleep 248\\nOde to Psyche 249\\nSonnet If by dull rhymes our English must be chain d 251\\nOde to a Nightingale 251\\nLamia 254\\nDRAMAS.\\nOtho the Great a tragedy in five acts 275\\nKing Stephen A dramatic fragment 340\\nTHE EVE OF ST. MARK 348\\nHYPERION A FRAGMENT 352\\nTO AUTUMN 377\\nVERSES TO FANNY BRAWNE.\\nSonnet The day is gone and all its sweets are gone 379\\nLines to Fanny 379\\nTo Fanny I cry your mercy pity love aye, love 381\\nTHE CAP AND BELLS OR, THE JEALOUSIES .382\\nTHE LAST SONNET 410\\nSUPPLEMENTARY VERSE.\\nI. Hyperion A Vision 411\\nII. Fragments.\\nI. Where s the Poet? show him! show him 425\\nII. Modern Love 425\\nIII. Fragment of The Castle Builder .426", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "TABLE OF CONTENTS\\nIV. Extracts from an Opera.\\no were i one of the olympian twelve 427\\nDaisy s Song 428\\nFolly s Song 428\\nO, I AM frighten D WITH MOST HATEFUL\\nthoughts 429\\nSong The stranger lighted from his\\nSTEED 429\\nAsleep! O sleep a little while, white\\npearl! 430\\nIII. Familiar Verses.\\nStanzas to Miss Wylie 430\\nEpistle to John Hamilton Reynolds 431\\nA Draught of Sunshine 434\\nAt Teignmouth 435\\nThe Devon Maid 43G\\nAcrostic Georgiana Augusta Keats 437\\nMeg Merrilies 438\\nA Song about myself 439\\nTo Thomas Keats 442\\nThe Gadfly 443\\nOn hearing the Bagpipe and seeing The Stranger\\nPLAYED AT INVERARY 445\\nLines written in the Highlands after a Visit to\\nBuRNs s Country 44G\\nMrs. Cameron and Ben Nevis 448\\nSharing Eve s Apple 451\\nA Prophecy to George Keats in America 452\\nA Little Extempore 453\\nSpenserian Stanzas on Charlks Armitage Brown 456\\nTwo or three Posies 457\\nA Party of Lovers 458\\nTo George Keats written in sickness 458\\nOn Oxford 459\\nTo a Cat 459", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "THE POEMS OF JOHN KEATS\\nEARLY POEMS\\nIMITATION OF SPENSER\\nNow Morning from her orient chamber came,\\nAnd her first footsteps touch d a verdant hill\\nCrowning its lawny crest with amber flame,\\nSilv ring the untainted gushes of its rill\\nWhich, pure from mossy beds, did down distil,\\nAnd after parting beds of simple flowers,\\nBy many streams a little lake did fill,\\nWhich round its marge reflected woven bowers,\\nAnd, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers.\\nThere the kingfisher saw his plumage bright,\\nVying with fish of brilliant dye below\\nWhose silken fins, and golden scales light\\nCast upward, through the waves, a ruby glow\\nThere saw the swan his neck of arched snow.\\nAnd oar d himself along with majesty\\nSparkled his jetty eyes his feet did show\\nBeneath the waves like Afric s ebony.\\nAnd on his back a fay reclined voluptuously.\\nAh could I tell the wonders of an isle\\nThat in that fairest lake had placed been,\\nI could e en Dido of her grief beguile\\nOr rob from aged Lear his bitter teen", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "2 EARLY POEMS\\nFor sure so fair a place was never seen,\\nOf all that ever charm d romantic eye\\nIt seem d an emerald in the silver sheen\\nOf the bright waters or as when on high,\\nThrough clouds of fleecy white, laughs the coerulean\\nsky.\\nAnd all around it dipp d luxuriously\\nSlopings of verdure through the glossy tide,\\nWhich, as it were in gentle amity.\\nRippled delighted up the flowery side\\nAs if to glean the ruddy tears, it tried.\\nWhich fell profusely from the rose-tree stem\\nHaply it was the workings of its pride,\\nIn strife to throw upon the shore a gem\\nOutvying all the buds in Flora s diadem.\\nON DEATH\\nCan death be sleep, when life is but a dream,\\nAnd scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by\\nThe transient pleasures as a vision seem.\\nAnd yet we think the greatest pain s to die.\\nHow strange it is that man on earth should roam.\\nAnd lead a life of woe, but not forsake\\nHis rugged path nor dare he view alone\\nHis future doom, which is but to awake.\\nTO CHATTERTON\\nO Chatteeton how very sad thy fate!\\nDear child of sorrow son of misery\\nHow soon the film of death obscur d that eye,\\nWhence Genius mildly flash d, and high debate.", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "WOMAN WHEN I BEHOLD THEE 3\\nHow soon that voice, majestic and elate,\\nMelted in dying numbers Oh how nigh\\nWas night to thy fair morning. Thou didst die\\nA half -blown flow ret which cold blasts amate.\\nBut this is past thou art among the stars\\nOf highest Heaven to the rolling spheres\\nThou sweetly singest nought thy hymning mars,\\nAbove the ingrate world and human fears.\\nOn earth the good man base detraction bars\\nFrom thy fair name, and waters it with tears.\\nTO BYRON\\nBykon how sweetly sad thy melody\\nAttuning still the soul to tenderness.\\nAs if soft Pity, with unusual stress.\\nHad touch d her plaintive lute, and thou, being by,\\nHadst caught the tones, nor suffer d them to die.\\nO ershadowing sorrow doth not make thee less\\nDelightful thou thy griefs dost dress\\nWith a bright halo, shining beamily,\\nAs when a cloud the golden moon doth veil,\\nIts sides are ting d with a resplendent glow,\\nThrough the dark robe oft amber rays prevail.\\nAnd like fair veins in sable marble flow\\nStill warble, dying swan still tell the tale,\\nThe enchanting tale, the tale of pleasing woe.\\nWOMAN! WHEN I BEHOLD THEE\\nFLIPPANT, VAIN\\nWoman when I behold thee flippant, vain.\\nInconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies\\nWithout that modest softening that enhances\\nThe downcast eye, repentant of the pain", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "4 EARLY POEMS\\nThat its mild liglit creates to iieal again\\nE en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances,\\nE en then my soul with exultation dances\\nFor that to love, so long, I ve dormant lain:\\nBut when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender,\\nHeavens how desperately do I adore\\nThy winning graces to be thy defender\\nI hotly burn to be a Calidore\\nA very Red Cross Knight a stout Leander\\nMight I be lov d by thee like these of yore.\\nLight feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair\\nSoft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy\\nbreast.\\nAre things on which the dazzled senses rest\\nTill the fond, fixSd eyes forget they stare.\\nFrom such fine pictures, Heavens I cannot dare\\nTo turn my admiration, though unpossess d\\nThey be of what is worthy, though not drest\\nIn lovely modesty, and virtues rare.\\nYet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark\\nThese lures I straight forget, e en ere I dine,\\nOr thrice my palate moisten but when I mark\\nSuch charms with mild intelligences shine,\\nMy ear is open like a greedy shark.\\nTo catch the tunings of a voice divine.\\nAh who can e er forget so fair a being\\nWho can forget her half -re tiring sweets\\nGod she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats\\nFor man s protection. Surely the All-seeing,\\nWho joys to see us with his gifts agreeing,\\nWill never give him pinions, who intreats\\nSuch innocence to ruin, who vilely cheats\\nA dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing\\nOne s thoughts from such a beauty when I hear\\nA lay that once I saw her hand awake,", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "TO SOME LADIES\\nHer form seems floating palpable, and near\\nHad I e er seen her from an arbour take\\nA dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,\\nAnd o er my eyes the trembling moisture shake.\\nTO SOME LADIES\\nWhat though, while the wonders of nature ex-\\nploring,\\nI cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend\\nNor listen to accents, that almost adoring.\\nBless Cynthia s face, the enthusiast s friend\\nYet over the steep, whence the mountain-stream\\nrushes,\\nWith you, kindest friends, in idea I rove\\nMark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate\\ngushes.\\nIts spray that the wild flower kindly bedews.\\nWhy linger you so, the wild labyrinth strolling\\nWhy breathless, unable your bliss to declare\\nAh you list to the nightingale s tender condoling,\\nResponsive to sylphs, in the moon-beamy air.\\nT is morn, and the flowers with dew are yet droop-\\ning,\\nI see you are treading the verge of the sea\\nAnd now ah, I see it you just now are stooping\\nTo pick up the keepsake intended for me.\\nIf a cherub, on pinions of silver descending,\\nHad brought me a gem from the fretwork of\\nheaven\\nAnd smiles, with his star-cheering voice sweetly\\nblending.\\nThe blessings of Tighe had melodiously given", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "6 EARLY POEMS\\nIt had not created a warmer emotion\\nThan the present, fair nymphs, I was blest with\\nfrom you\\nThan the shell, from the bright golden sands of the\\nocean,\\nWhich the emerald waves at your feet gladly\\nthrew.\\nFor, indeed, t is a sweet and peculiar pleasure,\\n(And blissful is he who such happiness finds,)\\nTo possess but a span of the hour of leisure.\\nIn elegant, pure, and aerial minds.\\nON RECEIVING A CURIOUS SHELL AND\\nA COPY OF VERSES FROM THE SAME\\nLADIES\\nHast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem\\nPure as the ice-drop that froze on the mountain\\nBright as the humming-bird s green diadem,\\nWhen it flutters in sunbeams that shine through a\\nfountain\\nHast thou a goblet for dark sparkling wine\\nThat goblet right heavy, and massy, and gold\\nAnd splendidly mark d with the story divine\\nOf Armida the fair, and Rinaldo the bold\\nHast thou a steed with a mane richly flowing\\nHast thou a sword that thine enemy s smart is\\nHast thou a trumpet rich melodies blowing\\nAnd wear st thou the shield of the fam d Brito-\\nmartis\\nWhat is it that hangs from thy shoulder, so brave,\\nEmbroidered with many a spring peering flower\\nIs it a scarf that thy fair lady gave\\nAnd hastest thou now to that fair lady s bower", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "ON RECEIVING A CURIOUS SHELL 7\\nAh courteous Sir Knight, with large joy thou art\\ncrown d\\nFull many the glories that brighten thy youth\\nI will tell thee my blisses, which richly abound\\nIn magical powers to bless, and to soothe.\\nOn this scroll thou seest written in characters fair\\nA sun-beamy tale of a wreath, and a chain\\nAnd, warrior, it nurtures the property rare\\nOf charming my mind from the trammels of pain.\\nThis canopy mark t is the work of a fay\\nBeneath its rich shade did King Oberon languish,\\nWhen lovely Titania was far, far away.\\nAnd cruelly left him to sorrow, and anguish.\\nThere, oft would he bring from his soft- sighing\\nlute\\nWild strains to which, spell-bound, the nightin-\\ngales listen d\\nThe wondering spirits of heaven were mute.\\nAnd tears mong the dewdrops of morning oft\\nglistened.\\nIn this little dome, all those melodies strange,\\nSoft, plaintive, and melting, for ever will sigh\\nNor e er will the notes from their tenderness change\\nNor e er will the music of Oberon die.\\nSo, when I am in a voluptuous vein,\\nI pillow my head on the sweets of the rose.\\nAnd list to the tale pf the wreath, and the chain,\\nTill its echoes depart then I sink to repose.\\nAdieu, valiant Eric with joy thou art crown d\\nFull many the glories that brighten thy youth,\\nI too have my blisses, which richly abound\\nIn magical powers, to bless and to soothe.", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "EARLY POEMS\\nWRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR.\\nLEIGH HUNT LEFT PRISON\\nWhat though, for showing truth to flatter d state.\\nKind Hunt was shut in prison, yet has he,\\nIn his immortal spirit, been as free\\nAs the sky-searching lark, and as elate.\\nMinion of grandeur think you he did wait\\nThink you he nought hut prison-walls did see.\\nTill, so unwilling, thou unturn dst the key\\nAh, no far happier, nobler was his fate\\nIn Spenser s halls he strayed, and bowers fair,\\nCulling enchanted flowers and he flew\\nWith daring Milton through the fields of air\\nTo regions of his own his genius true\\nTook happy flights. Who shall his fame impair\\nWhen thou art dead, and all thy wretched crew\\nTO HOPE\\nWhen by my solitary hearth I sit.\\nAnd hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom\\nWhen no fair dreams before my mind s eye flit.\\nAnd the bare heath of life presents no bloom\\nSweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed.\\nAnd wave thy silver pinions o er my head.\\nWhene er I wander, at the fall of night.\\nWhere woven boughs shut out the moon s bright\\nray.\\nShould sad Despondency my musings fright.\\nAnd frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,\\nPeep with the moonbeams through the leafy\\nroof.\\nAnd keep that fiend Despondence far aloof.", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "TO HOPE 9\\nShould Disappointment, parent of Despair,\\nStrive for her son to seize my careless heart\\nWhen, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,\\nPreparing on his spell-bound prey to dart\\nChase him away, sweet Hope, with visage\\nbright,\\nAnd fright him as the morning frightens night\\nWhene er the fate of those I hold most dear\\nTells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,\\nO bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer\\nLet me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow\\nThy heaven-born radiance around me shed,\\nAnd wave thy silver pinions o er my head\\nShould e er unhappy love my bosom pain,\\nFrom cruel parents, or relentless fair\\nO let me think it is not quite in vain\\nTo sigh out sonnets to the midnight air\\nSweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,\\nAnd wave thy silver pinions o er my head.\\nIn the long vista of the years to roll,\\nLet me not see our country s honoiu- fade\\nO let me see our land retain her soul.\\nHer pride, her freedom and not freedom s shade.\\nFrom thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed\\nBeneath thy pinions canopy my head\\nLet me not see the patriot s high bequest.\\nGreat Liberty how great in plain attire 1\\nWith the base purple of a court oppress d,\\nBowing her head, and ready to expire\\nBut let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings\\nThat fill the skies with silver glitterings\\nAnd as, in sparkling maj esty, a star\\nGilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "lo EARLY POEMS\\nBriglitening the half-veil d face of heaven afar\\nSo, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,\\nSweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,\\nWaving thy silver pinions o er my head.\\nODE TO APOLLO\\nIn thy western halls of gold\\nWhen thou sittest in thy state,\\nBards, that erst sublimely told\\nHeroic deeds, and sang of fate,\\nWith fervour seize their adamantine lyres,\\nWhose chords are solid rays, and twinkle radiant\\nfires.\\nHere Homer with his nervous arms\\nStrikes the twanging harp of war,\\nAnd even the western splendor warms,\\nWhile the trumpets sound afar\\nBut, what creates the most intense surprise,\\nHis soul looks out through renovated eyes.\\nThen, through thy Temple wide, melodious swells\\nThe sweet majestic tone of Maro s lyre\\nThe soul delighted on each accent dwells,\\nEnraptur d dwells, not daring to respire,\\nThe while he tells of grief around a funeral pyre.\\nT is awful silence then again\\nExpectant stand the spheres\\nBreathless the laurell d peers.\\nNor move, till ends the lofty strain,\\nNor move till Milton s tuneful thunders cease.\\nAnd leave once more the ravish d heavens in peace.\\nThou biddest Shakspeare wave his hand.\\nAnd quickly forward spring", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "HYMN TO APOLLO ii\\nThe Passions a terrific band\\nAnd each vibrates the string\\nThat with its tyrant temper best accords,\\nWhile from their Master s lips pour forth the inspir-\\ning words.\\nA silver trumpet Spenser blows,\\nAnd, as its martial notes to silence flee,\\nFrom a virgin chorus flows\\nA hymn in praise of spotless Chastity.\\nT is still Wild warblings from the iEolian lyre\\nEnchantment softly breathe, and tremblingly expire.\\nNext thy Tasso s ardent numbers\\nFloat along the pleased air.\\nCalling youth from idle slumbers,\\nRousing them from Pleasure s lair\\nThen o er the strings his fingers gently move,\\nAnd melt the soul to pity and to love.\\nBut when Tfiou joinest with the Nine,\\nAnd all the powers of song combine,\\nWe listen here on earth\\nThe dying tones that fill the air,\\nAnd charm the ear of evening fair,\\nFrom thee, Great God of Bards, receive their hea-\\nvenly birth.\\nHYMN TO APOLLO\\nGod of the golden bow,\\nAnd of the golden lyre.\\nAnd of the golden hair.\\nAnd of the golden fire.\\nCharioteer\\nOf the patient year,\\nWhere where slept thine ire,", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "12 EARLY POEMS\\nWhen like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath,\\nThy laurel, thy glory,\\nThe light of thy story,\\nOr was I a worm too low crawling, for death\\nO Delphic Apollo\\nThe Thunderer grasp d and grasp d,\\nThe Thunderer frown d and frown d\\nThe eagle s feathery mane\\nFor wrath became stiff en d the sound\\nOf breeding thunder\\nWent drowsily under,\\nMuttering to be unbound.\\nO why didst thou pity, and for a worm\\nWhy touch thy soft lute\\nTill the thunder was mute,\\nWhy was not I crush d such a pitiful germ\\nO Delphic Apollo\\nThe Pleiades were up,\\nWatching the silent air\\nThe seeds and roots in the Earth\\nWere swelling for summer fare\\nThe Ocean, its neighbour.\\nWas at its old labour.\\nWhen, who who did dare\\nTo tie, like a madman, thy plant round his brow,\\nAnd grin and look proudly,\\nAnd blaspheme so loudly,\\nAnd live for that honour, to stoop to thee now\\nO Delphic Apollo\\nTO A YOUNG LADY WHO SENT ME A\\nLAUREL CROWN\\nFresh morning gusts have blown away all fear\\nFrom my glad bosom, now from gloominess", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "SONNET 13\\nI mount for ever not an atom less\\nThan the proud laurel shall content my bier.\\nNo by the eternal stars or why sit here\\nIn the Sun s eye, and gainst my temples press\\nApollo s very leaves, woven to bless\\nBy thy white fingers and thy spirit clear.\\nLo who dares say, Do this Who dares call\\ndown\\nMy will from its high purpose Who say,\\nStand,\\nOr Go This mighty moment I would frown\\nOn abject Caesars not the stoutest band\\nOf mailed heroes should tear off my crown\\nYet would I kneel and kiss thy gentle hand\\nSONNET\\nHow many bards gild the lapses of time\\nA few of them have ever been the food\\nOf my delighted fancy, I could brood\\nOver their beauties, earthly, or sublime\\nAnd often, when I sit me down to rhyme.\\nThese will in throngs before my mind intrude\\nBut no confusion, no disturbance rude\\nDo they occasion t is a pleasing chime.\\nSo the unnumber d sounds that evening store\\nThe songs of birds the whisp ring of the leaves\\nThe voice of waters the great bell that heaves\\nWith solemn sound, and thousand others more,\\nThat distance of recognizance bereaves,\\nMake pleasing music, and not wild uproar.\\nSONNET\\nKeen, fitful gusts are whisp ring here and there\\nAmong the bushes half leafless, and dry", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "14 EARLY POEMS\\nThe stars look very cold about the sky,\\nAnd I have many miles on foot to fare.\\nYet feel I little of the cool bleak air,\\nOr of the dead leaves rustling drearily,\\nOr of those silver lamps that burn on high,\\nOr of the distance from home s pleasant lair\\nFor I am brimful of the friendliness\\nThat in a little cottage I have found\\nOf fair-hair d Milton s eloquent distress,\\nAnd all his love for gentle Lycid drown d\\nOf lovely Laura in her light green dress,\\nAnd faithful Petrarch gloriously crown d.\\nSPENSERIAN STANZA\\nWRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF CANTO II. BOOK V.\\nOF THE FAERIE QUEENE\\nIn after-time, a sage of mickle lore\\nYclep d Typographus, the Giant took.\\nAnd did refit his limbs as heretofore,\\nAnd made him read in many a learned book.\\nAnd into many a lively legend look\\nThereby in goodly themes so training him.\\nThat all his brutishness he quite forsook.\\nWhen, meeting Artegall and Talus grim.\\nThe one he struck stone-blind, the other s eyes wox\\ndim.\\nON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS AT AN\\nEARLY HOUR\\nGive me a golden pen, and let me lean\\nOn heap d-up flowers, in regions clear and far\\nBring me a tablet whiter than a star.\\nOr hand of hymning angel, when t is seen", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "EPISTLE TO MATHEW 15\\nThe silver strings of heavenly harp atween\\nAnd let there glide by many a pearly car,\\nPink robes, and wavy hair, and diamond j ar,\\nAnd half-discover d wings, and glances keen.\\nThe while let music wander round my ears,\\nAnd as it reaches each delicious ending,\\nLet me write down a line of glorious tone,\\nAnd full of many wonders of the spheres\\nFor what a height my spirit is contending\\nT is not content so soon to be alone.\\nON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN S\\nHOMER\\nMuch have I travell d in the realms of gold,\\nAnd many goodly states and kingdoms seen\\nRoimd many western islands have I been\\nWhich bards in fealty to Apollo hold.\\nOft of one wide expanse had I been told\\nThat deep-brow d Homer ruled as his demesne\\nYet did I never breathe its pure serene\\nTill I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold\\nThen felt I like some watcher of the skies\\nWhen a new planet swims into his ken\\nOr like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes\\nHe star d at the Pacific and all his men\\nLook d at each other with a wild surmise\\nSilent, upon a peak in Darien.\\nEPISTLE TO GEORGE FELTON MATHEW\\nSweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,\\nAnd doubly sweet a brotherhood in song\\nNor can remembrance, Mathew bring to view\\nA fate more pleasing, a delight more true\\nThan that in which the brother Poets joy d,\\nWho, with combined powers, their wit employ d", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "i6 EARLY POEMS\\nTo raise a trophy to the drama s muses.\\nThe thought of this great partnership diffuses\\nOver the genius-loving heart, a feeling\\nOf all that s high, and great, and good, and healing.\\nToo partial friend! fain would I follow thee n\\nPast each horizon of fine poesy\\nFain would I echo back each pleasant note\\nAs o er Sicilian seas, clear anthems float\\nMong the light skimming gondolas far parted,\\nJust when the sun his farewell beam has darted\\nBut t is impossible far different cares\\nBeckon me sternly from soft Lydian airs,\\nAnd hold my faculties so long in thrall.\\nThat I am oft in doubt whether at all 20\\nI shall again see Phoebus in the morning\\nOr flush d Aurora in the roseate dawning\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2Or a white Naiad in a rippling stream\\nOr a rapt seraph in a moonlight beam\\nOr again witness what with thee I ve seen.\\nThe dew by fairy feet swept from the green,\\nAfter a night of some quaint jubilee\\nWhich every elf and fay had come to see\\nWhen bright processions took their airy march\\nBeneath the curved moon s triumphal arch. 30\\nBut might I now each passing moment give\\nTo the coy Muse, with me she would not live\\nIn this dark city, nor would condescend\\nMid contradictions her delights to lend.\\nShould e er the fine-eyed maid to me be kind.\\nAh surely it must be whene er I find\\nSome flowery spot, sequester d, wild, romantic,\\nThat often must have seen a poet frantic\\nWhere oaks, that erst the Druid knew, are growing.\\nAnd flowers, the glory of one day, are blowing 40\\nWhere the dark-leav d laburnum s drooping clusters\\nReflect athwart the stream their yellow lustres,", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "EPISTLE TO MATHEW 17\\nAnd intertwined the cassia s arms unite,\\nWith its own drooping buds, but very white.\\nWhere on one side are covert branches hung,\\nMong which the nightingales have always simg\\nIn leafy quiet where to pry, aloof\\nAtween the pillars of the sylvan roof,\\nWould be to find where violet beds were nestling,\\nAnd where the bee with cowslip bells was wres-\\ntling. 50\\nThere must be too a ruin dark and gloomy.\\nTo say Joy not too much in all that s bloomy.\\nYet this is vain O Mathew, lend thy aid\\nTo find a place where I may greet the maid\\nWhere we may soft humanity put on.\\nAnd sit, and rhyme and think on Chatterton\\nAnd that warm-hearted Shakspeare sent to meet him\\nFour laurell d spirits, heavenward to entreat him.\\nWith reverence would we speak of all the sages\\nWho have left streaks of light athwart their ages: 60\\nAnd thou shouldst moralize on Milton s blindness.\\nAnd mourn the fearful dearth of human kindness\\nTo those who strove with the bright golden wing\\nOf genius, to flap away each sting\\nThrown by the pitiless world. We next could tell\\nOf those who in the cause of freedom fell\\nOf our own Alfred, of Helvetian Tell\\nOf him whose name to ev ry heart s a solace,\\nHigh-minded and unbending William Wallace.\\nWhile to the rugged north our musing turns, 70\\nWe well might drop a tear for him, and Burns.\\nFelton without incitements such as these.\\nHow vain for me the niggard Muse to tease\\nFor thee, she will thy every dwelling grace.\\nAnd make a sunshine in a shady place\\nFor thou wast once a flow ret blooming wild,\\nClose to the source, bright, pure, and undefil d,", "height": "3082", "width": "1787", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "i8 EARLY POEMS\\nWhence gush the streams of song In happy hour\\nCame chaste Diana from her shady bower,\\nJust as the sun was from the east uprising 80\\nAnd, as for him some gift she was devising,\\nBeheld thee, pluck d thee, cast thee in the stream\\nTo meet her glorious brother s greeting beam.\\nI marvel much that thou hast never told\\nHow, from a flower, into a fish of gold\\nApollo chang d thee how thou next didst seem\\nA black-ey d swan upon the widening stream\\nAnd when thou first didst in that mirror trace\\nThe placid features of a human face\\nThat thou hast never told thy travels strange, 90\\nAnd all the wonders of the mazy range\\nO er pebbly crystal, and o er golden sands\\nKissing thy daily food from Naiads pearly hands.\\nTO\\nHadst thou liv d in days of old,\\nO what wonders had been told\\nOf thy lively countenance,\\nAnd thy humid eyes that dance\\nIn the midst of their own brightness\\nIn the very fane of lightness.\\nOver which thine eyebrows, leaning,\\nPicture out each lovely meaning\\nIn a dainty bend they lie,\\nLike to streaks across the sky.\\nOr the feathers from a crow,\\nFallen on a bed of snow.\\nOf thy dark hair, that extends\\nInto many graceful bends\\nAs the leaves of Hellebore\\nTurn to whence they sprung before.\\nAnd behind each ample curl\\nPeeps the richness of a pearl.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "TO 19\\nDownward too flows many a tress\\nWith a glossy waviness 20\\nFull, and round like globes that rise\\nFrom the censer to the skies\\nThrough sunny air. Add, too, the sweetness\\nOf thy honied voice the neatness\\nOf thine ankle lightly turn d\\nWith those beauties scarce discern d,\\nKept with such sweet privacy,\\nThat they seldom meet the eye\\nOf the little loves that fly\\nRound about with eager pry. 30\\nSaving when, with freshening lave.\\nThou dipp st them in the taintless wave\\nLike twin water-lilies, born\\nIn the coolness of the morn.\\nO, if thou hadst breathed then,\\nNow the Muses had been ten.\\nCouldst thou wish for lineage higher\\nThan twin-sister of Thalia\\nAt least for ever, evermore\\nWill I call the Graces four. 40\\nHadst thou liv d when chivalry\\nLifted up her lance on high.\\nTell me what thou wouldst have been\\nAh I see the silver sheen\\nOf thy broider d, floating vest\\nCov ring half thine ivory breast\\nWhich, O heavens I should see,\\nBut that cruel destiny\\nHas plac d a golden cuirass there\\nKeeping secret what is fair. 50\\nLike sunbeams in a cloudlet nested\\nThy locks in knightly casque are rested\\nO er which bend four milky plumes\\nLike the gentle lily s blooms\\nSpringing from a costly vase.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "20 EARLY POEMS\\nSee with what a stately pace\\nComes thine alabaster steed\\nServant of heroic deed\\nO er his loins his trappings glow\\nLike the northern lights on snow. 60\\nMount his back thy sword unsheath\\nSign of the enchanter s death\\nBane of every wicked spell\\nSilencer of dragon s yell,\\nAlas thou this wilt never do\\nThou art an enchantress too,\\nAnd wilt surely never spill\\nBlood of those whose eyes can kill.\\nSONNET\\nAs from the darkening gloom a silver dove\\nUpsoars, and darts into the eastern light,\\nOn pinions that nought moves but pure delight.\\nSo fled thy soul into the realms above,\\nRegions of peace and everlasting love\\nWhere happy spirits, crown d with circlets bright\\nOf starry beam, and gloriously bedight,\\nTaste the high joy none but the blest can prove.\\nThere thou or joinest the immortal quire\\nIn melodies that even heaven fair\\nFill with superior bliss, or, at desire,\\nOf the omnipotent Father, cleav st the air\\nOn holy message sent What pleasure s higher\\nWherefore does any grief our joy impair\\nSONNET TO SOLITUDE\\nO Solitude if I must with thee dwell,\\nLet it not be among the jumbled heap\\nOf murky buildings climb with me the steep,\\nNature s observatory, whence the dell,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "TO A FRIEND 21\\nIts flowery slopes, its river s crystal swell,\\nMay seem a span let me thy vigils keep\\nMongst boughs pavilion d, where the deer s swift\\nleap\\nStartles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.\\nBut though I 11 gladly trace these scenes with thee,\\nYet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,\\nWhose words are images of thoughts refin d,\\nIs my soul s pleasure and it sure must be\\nAlmost the highest bliss of human-kind,\\nWhen to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.\\nSONNET\\nTo one who has been long in city pent,\\nT is very sweet to look into the fair\\nAnd open face of heaven, to breathe a prayer\\nFull in the smile of the blue firmament.\\nWho is more happy, when, with hearts content,\\nFatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair\\nOf wavy grass, and reads a debonair\\nAnd gentle tale of love and languishment\\nReturning home at evening, with an ear\\nCatching the notes of Philomel, an eye\\nWatching the sailing cloudlet s bright career,\\nHe mourns that day so soon has glided by\\nE en like the passage of an angel s tear\\nThat falls through the clear ether silently.\\nTO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME SOME\\nROSES\\nAs late I rambled in the happy fields.\\nWhat time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew\\nFrom his lush clover covert when anew\\nAdventurous knights take up their dinted shields", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "22 EARLY POEMS\\nI saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,\\nA fresh-blown musk-rose; twas the first that\\nthrew\\nIts sweets upon the summer graceful it grew\\nAs is the wand that Queen Titania wields.\\nAnd, as I feasted on its fragrancy,\\nI thought the garden-rose it far excell d\\nBut when, O Wells thy roses came to me,\\nMy sense with their deliciousness was spell d\\nSoft voices had they, that with tender plea\\nWhisper d of peace, and truth, and friendliness\\nunquell d.\\nSONNET\\nOh how I love, on a fair summer s eve,\\nWhen streams of light pour down the golden\\nwest,\\nAnd on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest\\nThe silver clouds, far far away to leave\\nAll meaner thoughts, and take a sweet reprieve\\nFrom little cares to find, with easy quest,\\nA fragrant wild, with Nature s beauty drest,\\nAnd there into delight my soul deceive,\\nThere warm my breast with patriotic lore.\\nMusing on Milton s fate on Sydney s bier\\nTill their stern forms before my mind arise\\nPerhaps on wings of Poesy upsoar,\\nFull often dropping a delicious tear,\\nWhen some melodious sorrow spells mine eyes.\\nI STOOD TIPTOE UPON A LITTLE\\nHILL\\nPlaces of nestling green, for poets made.\\nLeigh Hunt, The Story of Rimini.\\nI STOOD tiptoe upon a little hill, y\\nThe air was cooling, and so very still", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "I STOOD TIPTOE 23\\nThat the sweet buds which with a modest pride\\nPull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,\\nTheir scantly -leaved and finely tapering stems,\\nHad not yet lost those starry diadems\\nCaught from the early sobbing of the morn.\\nThe clouds were pure and white as flocks new shorn,\\nAnd fresh from the clear brook sweetly they slept\\nOn the blue fields of heaven, and then there crept 10\\nA little noiseless noise among the leaves,\\nBorn of the very sigh that silence heaves\\nFor not the faintest motion could be seen\\nOf all the shades that slanted o er the green.\\nThere was wide wand ring for the greediest eye\\nTo peer about upon variety\\nFar round the horizon s crystal air to skim,\\nAnd trace the dwindled edgings of its brim\\nTo picture out the quaint and curious bending\\nOf a fresh woodland alley, never-ending 20\\nOr by the bowery clefts, and leafy shelves,\\nGuess where the jaunty streams refresh themselves.\\nI gazed awhile, and felt as light and free\\nAs though the fanning wings of Mercury\\nHad played upon my heels I was light-hearted,\\nAnd many pleasures to my vision started\\nSo I straightway began to pluck a posey\\nOf luxuries bright, milky, soft, and rosy.\\nA bush of May flowers with the bees about them\\nAh, sure no tasteful nook could be without them 30\\nAnd let a lush laburnum oversweep them,\\nAnd let long grass grow round the roots to keep\\nthem\\nMoist, cool, and green and shade the violets,\\nThat they may bind the moss in leafy nets.\\nA filbert hedge with wild briar overtwined.\\nAnd clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind\\nUpon their summer thrones there too should be\\nThe frequent chequer of a youngling tree,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "24 EARLY POEMS\\nThat with a score of light green brethren shoots\\nFrom the quaint mossiness of aged roots 40\\nRound which is heard a spring-head of clear waters\\nBabbling so wildly of its lovely daughters\\nThe spreading blue-bells it may haply mourn\\nThat such fair clusters should be rudely torn\\nFrom their fresh beds, and scattered thoughtlessly\\nBy infant hands, left on the path to die.\\nOpen afresh your round of starry folds.\\nYe ardent marigolds\\nDry up the moisture from your golden lids,\\nFor great Apollo bids 50\\nThat in these days your praises should be sung\\nOn many harps, which he has lately strung\\nAnd when again your dewiness he kisses,\\nTell him, I have you in my world of blisses\\nSo haply when I rove in some far vale.\\nHis mighty voice may come upon the gale.\\nHere are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight\\nWith wings of gentle flush o er delicate white,\\nAnd taper fingers catching at all things.\\nTo bind them all about with tiny rings. 60\\nLinger awhile upon some bending planks\\nThat lean against a streamlet s rushy banks,\\nAnd watch intently Nature s gentle doings\\nThey will be found softer than ring-dove s cooings.\\nHow silent comes the water round that bend\\nNot the minutest whisper does it send\\nTo the o erhanging sallows blades of grass\\nSlowly across the chequer d shadows pass.\\nWhy, you might read two sonnets, ere they reach\\nTo where the hurrying freshnesses aye preach 70\\nA natural sermon o er their pebbly beds\\nWhere swarms of minnows show their little heads,\\nStaying their wavy bodies gainst the streams,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "I STOOD TIPTOE 25\\nTo taste the luxury of sunny beams\\nTemper d with coolness. How they ever wrestle\\nWith their own sweet delight, and ever nestle\\nTheir silver bellies on the pebbly sand.\\nIf you but scantily hold out the hand,\\nThat very instant not one will remain\\nBut turn your eye, and they are there again. 80\\nThe ripples seem right glad to reach those cresses,\\nAnd cool themselves among the em rald tresses\\nThe while they cool themselves, they freshness give,\\nAnd moisture, that the bowery green may live\\nSo keeping up an interchange of favours,\\nLike good men in the truth of their behaviours.\\nSometimes goldfinches one by one will drop\\nFrom low-hung branches little space they stop\\nBut sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek\\nThen off at once, as in a wanton freak 90\\nOr perhaps, to show their black and golden wings,\\nPausing upon their yellow flutterings.\\nWere I in such a place, I sure should pray\\nThat nought less sweet might call my thoughts\\naway.\\nThan the soft rustle of a maiden s gown\\nFanning away the dandelion s down\\nThan the light music of her nimble toes\\nPatting against the sorrel as she goes.\\nHow she would start, and blush, thus to be caught\\nPlaying in all her innocence of thought. 100\\nO let me lead her gently o er the brook,\\nWatch her half -smiling lips, and downward look\\nO let me for one moment touch her wrist\\nLet me one moment to her breathing list\\nAnd as she leaves me, may she often turn\\nHer fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.\\nWhat next A tuft of evening primroses,\\nO er which the mind may hover till it dozes\\nO er which it well might take a pleasant sleep,\\nBut that tis ever startled by the leap no", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "26 EARLY POEMS\\nOf buds into ripe flowers or by the flitting\\nOf diverse moths, that aye their rest are quitting\\nOr by the moon lifting her silver rim\\nAbove a cloud, and with a gradual swim\\nComing into the blue with all her light.\\nO Maker of sweet poets, dear delight\\nOf this fair world, and all its gentle livers\\nSpangler of clouds, halo of crystal rivers,\\nMingler with leaves, and dew and tumbling streams,\\nCloser of lovely eyes to lovely dreams, 120\\nLover of loneliness, and wandering.\\nOf upcast eye, and tender pondering\\nThee must I praise above all other glories\\nThat smile us on to tell delightful stories.\\nFor what has made the sage or poet write\\nBut the fair paradise of Nature s light\\nIn the calm grandeur of a sober line,\\nWe see the waving of the mountain pine\\nAnd when a tale is beautifully staid,\\nWe feel the safety of a hawthorn glade 130\\nWhen it is moving on luxurious wings,\\nThe soul is lost in pleasant smotherings\\nFair dewy roses brush against our faces,\\nAnd flowering laurels spring from diamond vases\\nO erhead we see the jasmine and sweet-briar.\\nAnd bloomy grapes laughing from green attire\\nWhile at our feet, the voice of crystal bubbles\\nCharms us at once away from all our troubles\\nSo that we feel uplifted from the world.\\nWalking upon the white clouds wreath d and curl d.\\nSo felt he, who first told, how Psyche went 141\\nOn the smooth wind to realms of wonderment\\nWhat Psyche felt, and Love, when their full lips\\nFirst touch d what amorous and fondling nips\\nThey gave each other s cheeks with all their sighs,\\nAnd how they kist each other s tremulous eyes\\nThe silver lamp, the ravishment, the wonder,\\nThe darkness, loneliness, the fearful thunder", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "I STOOD TIPTOE 27\\nTheir woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown,\\nTo bow for gratitude before Jove s throne. 150\\nSo did he feel, who pull d the boughs aside,\\nThat we might look into a forest wide,\\nTo catch a glimpse of Fauns, and Dryades\\nComing with softest rustle through the trees\\nAnd garlands woven of flowers wild, and sweet,\\nUpheld on ivory wrists, or sporting feet\\nTelling us how fair, trembling Syrinx fled\\nArcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread.\\nPoor Nymph, poor Pan, how he did weep to\\nfind\\nNought but a lovely sighing of the wind 160\\nAlong the reedy stream a half -heard strain,\\nFull of sweet desolation balmy pain.\\nWhat first inspired a bard of old to sing\\nNarcissus pining o er the untainted spring\\nIn some delicious ramble, he had found\\nA little space, with boughs all woven round\\nAnd in the midst of all, a clearer pool\\nThan e er reflected in its pleasant cool.\\nThe blue sky here, and there, serenely peeping\\nThrough tendril wreaths fantastically creeping. 170\\nAnd on the bank a lonely flower he spied,\\nA meek and forlorn flower, with naught of pride.\\nDrooping its beauty o er the watery clearness.\\nTo woo its own sad image into nearness\\nDeaf to light Zephyrus it would not move\\nBut still would seem to droop, to pine, to love.\\nSo while the Poet stood in this sweet spot,\\nSome fainter gleamings o er his fancy shot\\nNor was it long ere he had told the tale\\nOf young Narcissus, and sad Echo s bale. 180\\nWhere had he been, from whose warm head out-\\nflew\\nThat sweetest of all songs, that ever new,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "28 EARLY POEMS\\nThat aye refreshing, pure deliciousness,\\nComing ever to bless\\nThe wanderer by moonlight to him bringing\\nShapes from the invisible world, unearthly sing-\\ning\\nFrom out the middle air, from flowery nests,\\nAnd from the pillowy silkiness that rests\\nFull in the speculation of the stars.\\nAh surely he had burst our mortal bars 190\\nInto some wond rous region he had gone,\\nTo search for thee, divine Endymion\\nHe was a Poet, sure a lover too,\\nWho stood on Latmus top, what time there blew\\nSoft breezes from the myrtle vale below\\nAnd brought in faintness solemn, sweet, and slow\\nA hymn from Dian s temple while upswelling,\\nThe incense went to her own starry dwelling.\\nBut though her face was clear as infant s eyes,\\nThough she stood smiling o er the sacrifice, 200\\nThe Poet wept at her so piteous fate,\\nWept that such beauty should be desolate\\nSo in fine wrath some golden sounds he won.\\nAnd gave meek Cynthia her Endymion.\\nQueen of the wide air thou most lovely queen\\nOf all the brightness that mine eyes have seen\\nAs thou exceedest all things in thy shine,\\nSo every tale, does this sweet tale of thine.\\nO for three words of honey, that I might\\nTell but one wonder of thy bridal night! 210\\nWhere distant ships do seem to show their keels,\\nPhcfibus awhile delay d his mighty wheels,\\nAnd turn d to smile upon thy bashful eyes,\\nEre he his unseen pomp would solemnize.\\nThe evening weather was so bright, and clear,\\nThat men of health were of unusual cheer", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "SLEEP AND POETRY 29\\nStepping like Homer at the trumpet s call,\\nOr young Apollo on the pedestal\\nAnd lovely women were as fair and warm,\\nAs Venus looking sideways in alarm. 220\\nThe breezes were ethereal, and pure.\\nAnd crept through half closed lattices to cure\\nThe languid sick it cool d their fever d sleep,\\nAnd soothed them into slumbers full and deep.\\nSoon they awoke clear-eyed nor burnt with thirsting^\\nNor with hot fingers, nor with temples bursting\\nAnd springing up, they met the wond ring sight\\nOf their dear friends, nigh foolish with delight\\nWho feel their arms, and breasts, and kiss and stare.\\nAnd on their placid foreheads part the hair. 230\\nYoung men and maidens at each other gaz d,\\nWith hands held back, and motionless, amaz d\\nTo see the brightness in each other s eyes\\nAnd so they stood, fill d with a sweet surprise,\\nUntil their tongues were loos d in poesy.\\nTherefore no lover did of anguish die\\nBut the soft numbers, in that moment spoken,\\nMade silken ties, that never may be broken.\\nCynthia I cannot tell the greater blisses\\nThat follow d thine, and thy dear shepherd s\\nkisses 240\\nWas there a Poet born But now no more,\\nMy wand ring spirit must no further soar.\\nSLEEP AND POETRY\\nAs I lay in my bed slepe full umnete\\nWas unto me, but why that I ne might\\nRest I ne wist, for there n as erthly wight\\n(As I suppose) had more of hertis ese\\nThan T, for I n ad sicknesse nor disese.\\nChaucer.\\nWhat is more gentle than a wind in summer\\nWhat is more soothing than the pretty hummer", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "30 EARLY POEMS\\nThat stays one moment in an open flower,\\nAnd buzzes cheerily from bower to bower\\nWhat is more tranquil than a musk-rose blowing\\nIn a green island, far from all men s knowing\\nMore healthful than the leafiness of dales\\nMore secret than a nest of nightingales\\nMore serene than Cordelia s countenance\\nMore full of visions than a high romance lo\\nWhat, but thee, Sleep Soft closer of our eyes 1\\nLow murmurer of tender lullabies\\nLight hoverer around our happy pillows\\nWreather of poppy buds, and weeping willows\\nSilent entangler of a beauty s tresses\\nMost happy listener when the morning blesses\\nThee for enlivening all the cheerful eyes\\nThat glance so brightly at the new sunrise.\\nBut what is higher beyond thought than thee\\nFresher than berries of a mountain-tree 20\\nMore strange, more beautiful, more smooth, more\\nregal,\\nThan wings of swans, than doves, than dim-seen\\neagle\\nWhat is it And to what shall I compare it\\nIt has a glory, and nought else can share it\\nThe thought thereof is awful, sweet, and holy,\\nChasing away all worldliness and folly\\nComing sometimes like fearful claps of thunder.\\nOr the low rumblings earth s regions under\\nAnd sometimes like a gentie whispering\\nOf all the secrets of some wond rous thing 30\\nThat breathes about us in the vacant air\\nSo that we look around with prying stare,\\nPerhaps to see shapes of light, aerial limning\\nAnd catch soft floatings from a faint-heard hymn-\\ning;\\nTo see the laurel wreath, on high suspended,\\nThat is to crown our name when life is ended.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "SLEEP AND POETRY 31\\nSometimes it gives a glory to the voice,\\nAnd from the heart up-springs, rejoice rejoice\\nSounds which will reach the Framer of all things,\\nAnd die away in ardent mutteriugs. 40\\nNo one who once the glorious sun has seen,\\nAnd all the clouds, and felt his bosom clean\\nFor his great Maker s presence, but must know\\nWhat t is I mean, and feel his being glow\\nTherefore no insult will I give his spirit,\\nBy telling what he sees from native merit.\\nO Poesy for thee I hold my pen.\\nThat am not yet a glorious denizen\\nOf thy wide heaven should I rather kneel\\nUpon some mountain-top until I feel 50\\nA growing splendour round about me hung.\\nAnd echo back the voice of thine own tongue\\nO Poesy for thee I grasp my pen.\\nThat am not yet a glorious denizen\\nOf thy wide heaven yet, to my ardent prayer,\\nYield from thy sanctuary some clear air,\\nSmoothed for intoxication by the breath\\nOf flowering bays, that I may die a death\\nOf luxury, and my young spirit follow\\nThe morning sunbeams to the great Apollo 60\\nLike a fresh sacrifice or, if I can bear\\nThe o erwhelming sweets, t will bring to me the\\nfair\\nVisions of all places a bowery nook\\nWill be elysium an eternal book\\nWhence I may copy many a lovely saying\\nAbout the leaves, and flowers about the playing\\nOf nymphs in woods, and fountains and the shade\\nKeeping a silence round a sleeping maid\\nAnd many a verse from so strange influence\\nThat we must ever wonder how, and whence 70\\nIt came. Also imaginings will hover", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "32 EARLY POEMS\\nRound my fire-side, and haply there discover\\nVistas of solemn beauty, where I d wander\\nIn happy silence, like the clear Meander\\nThrough its lone vales and where I found a spot\\nOf awfuller shade, or an enchanted grot.\\nOr a green hill o erspread with chequer d dress\\nOf flowers, and fearful from its loveliness,\\nWrite on my tablets all that was permitted,\\nAll that was for our human senses fitted. 80\\nThen the events of this wide world I d seize\\nLike a strong giant, and my spirit tease\\nTill at its shoulders it should proudly see\\nWings to find out an immortality.\\nStop and consider life is but a day\\nA fragile dewdrop on its perilous way\\nFrom a tree s summit a poor Indian s sleep\\nWhile his boat hastens to the monstrous steep\\nOf Montmorenci. Why so sad a moan\\nLife is the rose s hope while yet unblown 90\\nThe reading of an ever-changing tale\\nThe light uplifting of a maiden s veil\\nA pigeon tumbling in clear summer air\\nA laughing school-boy, without grief or care,\\nRiding the springy branches of an elm.\\nO for ten years, that I may overwhelm\\nMyself in poesy so I may do the deed\\nThat my own soul has to itself decreed.\\nThen I will pass the countries that I see\\nIn long perspective, and continually 100\\nTaste their pure fountains. First the realm I ll\\npass\\nOf Flora, and old Pan: sleep in the grass,\\nFeed upon apples red, and strawberries.\\nAnd choose each pleasure that my fancy sees\\nCatch the white-handed nymphs in shady places,\\nTo woo sweet kisses from averted faces,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "SLEEP AND POETRY 33\\nPlay with their fingers, touch their shoulders white\\nInto a pretty shrinking with a bite\\nAs hard as lips can make it till agreed,\\nA lovely tale of human life we 11 read. no\\nAnd one will teach a tame dove how it best\\nMay fan the cool air gently o er my rest\\nAnother, bending o er her nimble tread.\\nWill set a green robe floating round her head,\\nAnd still will dance with ever-varied ease.\\nSmiling upon the flowers and the trees\\nAnother will entice me on, and on\\nThrough almond blossoms and rich cinnamon\\nTill in the bosom of a leafy world\\nWe rest in silence, like two gems upcurl d 120\\nIn the recesses of a pearly shell.\\nAnd can I ever bid these joys farewell?\\nYes, I must pass them for a nobler life,\\nWhere I may find the agonies, the strife\\nOf human hearts for lo I see afar,\\nO ersailing the blue cragginess, a car\\nAnd steeds with streamy manes the charioteer\\nLooks out upon the winds with glorious fear\\nAnd now the numerous tramplings quiver lightly\\nAlong a huge cloud s ridge and now with\\nsprightly 130\\nWheel downward come they into fresher skies,\\nTipt round with silver from the sun s bright eyes.\\nStill downward with capacious whirl they glide\\nAnd now I see them on a green-hill s side\\nIn breezy rest among the nodding stalks.\\nThe charioteer with wond rous gesture talks\\nTo the trees and mountains and there soon appear\\nShapes of delight, of mystery, and fear.\\nPassing along before a dusky space\\nMade by some mighty oaks as they would chase 140\\nSome ever-fleeting music, on they sweep.\\nLo how they murmur, laugh, and smile, and weep", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "34 EARLY POEMS\\nSome with upholden hand and mouth severe\\nSome with their faces muffled to the ear\\nBetween their arms; some, clear in youthful bloom.\\nGo glad and smilingly athwart the gloom\\nSome looking back, and some with upward gaze\\nYes, thousands in a thousand different ways\\nFlit onward now a lovely wreath of girls\\nDancing their sleek hair into tangled curls 150\\nAnd now broad wings. Most awfully intent\\nThe driver of those steeds is forward bent,\\nAnd seems to listen O that I might know\\nAll that he writes with such a hurrying glow.\\nThe visions all are fled the car is fled\\nInto the light of heaven, and in their stead\\nA sense of real things comes doubly strong,\\nAnd, like a muddy stream, would bear along\\nMy soul to nothingness but I will strive\\nAgainst all doubtings, and will keep alive 160\\nThe thought of that same chariot, and the strange\\nJourney it went.\\nIs there so small a range\\nIn the present strength of manhood, that the high\\nImagination cannot freely fly\\nAs she was wont of old prepare her steeds.\\nPaw up against the light, and do strange deeds\\nUpon the clouds Has she not shewn us all\\nFrom the clear space of ether, to the small\\nBreath of new buds unfolding From the mean-\\ning\\nOf Jove s large eyebrow, to the tender greening 170\\nOf April meadows here her altar shone,\\nE en in this isle and who could paragon\\nThe fervid choir that lifted up a noise\\nOf harmony, to where it aye will poise\\nIts mighty self of convoluting sound,\\nHuge as a planet, and like that roll round,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "SLEEP AND POETRY 35\\nEternally around a dizzy void\\nAy, in those days the Muses were nigh cloy d\\nWith honours nor had any other care\\nThan to sing out and soothe their wavy hair. 180\\nCould all this be forgotten Yes, a schism\\nNurtured by foppery and barbarism,\\nMade great Apollo blush for this his land.\\nMen were thought wise who could not understand\\nHis glories with a puling infant s force\\nThey sway d about upon a rocking-horse.\\nAnd thought it Pegasus. Ah, dismal-soul d\\nThe winds of heaven blew, the ocean roll d\\nIts gathering waves ye felt it not. The blue\\nBared its eternal bosom, and the dew 190\\nOf summer nights collected still to make\\nThe morning precious beauty was awake\\nWhy were ye not awake But ye were dead\\nTo things ye knew not of, were closely wed\\nTo musty laws lined out with wretched rule\\nAnd compass vile so that ye taught a school\\nOf dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit,\\nTill, like the certain wands of Jacob s wit,\\nTheir verses tallied. Easy was the task\\nA thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask 200\\nOf Poesy. Ill-fated, impious race\\nThat blasphem d the bright Lyrist to his face,\\nAnd did not know it, no, they went about,\\nHolding a poor, decrepid standard out,\\nMark d with most flimsy mottoes, and in large\\nThe name of one Boileau\\nO ye whose charge\\nIt is to hover round our pleasant hills\\nWhose congregated majesty so fills\\nMy boundly reverence, that I cannot trace\\nYour hallowed names, in this unholy place, 210\\nSo near those common folk did not their shames", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "36 EARLY POEMS\\nAffright you Did our old lamenting Thames\\nDelight you did ye never cluster round\\nDelicious Avon, with a mournful sound,\\nAnd weep Or did ye wholly bid adieu\\nTo regions where no more the laurel grew\\nOr did ye stay to give a welcoming\\nTo some lone spirits who could proudly sing\\nTheir youth away, and die T was even so:\\nBut let me think away those times of woe 220\\nNow t is a fairer season ye have breathed\\nRich benedictions o er us ye have wreathed\\nFresh garlands for sweet music has been heard\\nIn many places some has been upstirr d\\nFrom out its crystal dwelling in a lake,\\nBy a swan s ebon bill from a thick brake,\\nNested and quiet in a valley mild,\\nBubbles a pipe fine sounds are floating wild\\nAbout the earth happy are ye and glad.\\nThese things are, doubtless yet in truth we ve\\nhad 230\\nStrange thunders from the potency of song\\nMingled indeed with what is sweet and strong\\nFrom maj esty but in clear truth the themes\\nAre ugly clubs, the Poets Polyphemes\\nDisturbing the grand sea. A drainless shower\\nOf light is Poesy t is the supreme of power\\nT is might half slumb ring on its own right arm.\\nThe very archings of her eyelids charm\\nA thousand willing agents to obey.\\nAnd still she governs with the mildest sway 240\\nBut strength alone though of the Muses born\\nIs like a fallen angel trees uptorn.\\nDarkness, and worms, and shrouds, and sepulchres\\nDelight it for it feeds upon the burrs\\nAnd thorns of life forgetting the great end\\nOf Poesy, that it should be a friend\\nTo soothe the cares, and lift the thoughts of man.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "SLEEP AND POETRY 37\\nYet I re j oice a myrtle fairer than\\nE er grow in Paplios, from the bitter weeds\\nLifts its sweet head into the air, and feeds 250\\nA silent space with ever sprouting green.\\nAll tenderest birds there find a pleasant screen,\\nCreep through the shade with jaunty fluttering,\\nNibble the little cupped flowers and sing.\\nThen let us clear away the choking thorns\\nFrom round its gentle stem let the young fawns,\\nYeaned in after-times, when we are flown,\\nFind a fresh sward beneath it, overgrown\\nWith simple flowers: let there nothing be\\nMore boisterous than a lover s bended knee 260\\nNought more ungentle than the placid look\\nOf one who leans upon a closed book\\nNought more untranquil than the grassy slopes\\nBetween two hills. All hail, delightful hopes\\nAs she was wont, th imagination\\nInto most lovely labyrinths will be gone,\\nAnd they shall be accounted poet kings\\nWho simply tell the most heart-easing things.\\nO may these joys be ripe before I die.\\nWill not some say that I presumptuously 270\\nHave spoken that from hastening disgrace\\nT were better far to hide my foolish face\\nThat whining boyhood should with reverence bow\\nEre the dread thunderbolt could reach How\\nIf I do hide myself, it sure shall be\\nIn the very fane, the light of Poesy\\nIf I do fall, at least I will be laid\\nBeneath the silence of a poplar shade\\nAnd over me the grass shall be smooth shaven\\nAnd there shall be a kind memorial graven. 280\\nBut off, Despondence miserable bane\\nThey should not know thee, who athirst to gain\\nA noble end, are thirsty every hour.\\nWhat though I am not wealthy in the dower", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "38 EARLY POEMS\\nOf spanning wisdom though I do not know\\nThe shiftings of the mighty winds that blow\\nHither and thither all the changing thoughts\\nOf man though no great minist ring reason sorts\\nOut the dark mysteries of human souls\\nTo clear conceiving yet there ever rolls 290\\nA vast idea before me, and I glean\\nTherefrom my liberty thence too I ve seen\\nThe end and aim of Poesy. T is clear\\nAs anything most true as that the year\\nIs made of the four seasons manifest\\nAs a large cross, some old cathedral s crest.\\nLifted to the white clouds. Therefore should I\\nBe but the essence of deformity,\\nA coward, did my very eyelids wink\\nAt speaking out what I have dared to think. 300\\nAh rather let me like a madman run\\nOver some precipice let the hot sun\\nMelt my Daedalian wings, and drive me down\\nConvuls d and headlong Stay an inward frown\\nOf conscience bids me be more calm awhile.\\nAn ocean dim, sprinkled with many an isle,\\nSpreads awfully before me. How much toil\\nHow many days what desperate turmoil\\nEre I can have explored its widenesses.\\nAh, what a task upon my bended knees, 310\\n1 could unsay those no, impossible\\nImpossible\\nFor sweet relief I 11 dwell\\nOn humbler thoughts, and let this strange assay\\nBegun in gentleness die so away.\\nE en now all tumult from my bosom fades\\nI turn full-hearted to the friendly aids\\nThat smooth the path of honour brotherhood,\\nAnd friendliness the nurse of mutual good.\\nThe hearty grasp that sends a pleasant sonnet\\nInto the brain ere one can think upon it 320", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "SLEEP AND POETRY 39\\nThe silence when some rhymes are coming out\\nAnd when they re come, the very pleasant rout\\nThe message certain to be done to-morrow.\\nT is perhaps as well that it should be to bor-\\nrow\\nSome precious book from out its snug retreat,\\nTo cluster round it when we next shall meet.\\nScarce can I scribble on for lovely airs\\nAre fluttering round the room like doves in pairs\\nMany delights of that glad day recalling,\\nWhen first my senses caught their tender falling. 330\\nAnd with these airs come forms of elegance\\nStooping their shoulders o er a horse s prance,\\nCareless, and grand fingers soft and round\\nParting luxuriant curls and the swift bound\\nOf Bacchus from his chariot, when his eye\\nMade Ariadne s cheek look blushingly.\\nThus I remember all the pleasant flow\\nOf words at opening a portfolio.\\nThings such as these are ever harbingers\\nTo trains of peaceful images the stirs 340\\nOf a swan s neck unseen among the rushes\\nA linnet starting all about the bushes\\nA butterfly, with golden wings broad parted,\\nNestling a rose, convuls d as though it smarted\\nWith over pleasure many, many more,\\nMight I indulge at large in all my store\\nOf luxuries yet I must not forget\\nSleep, quiet with his poppy coronet\\nFor what there may be worthy in these rhymes\\nI partly owe to him and thus, the chimes 350\\nOf friendly voices had just given place\\nTo as sweet a silence, when I gan retrace\\nThe pleasant day, upon a couch at ease.\\nIt was a poet s house who keeps the keys\\nOf pleasiue s temple. Round about were hung\\nThe glorious features of the bards who sung", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "40 EARLY POEMS\\nIn other ages cold and sacred busts\\nSmiled at each other. Happy he who trusts\\nTo clear Futurity his darling fame\\nThen there were fauns and satyrs taking aim 360\\nAt swelling apples with a frisky leap\\nAnd reaching fingers, mid a luscious heap\\nOf vine leaves. Then there rose to view a fane\\nOf liny marble, and thereto a train\\nOf nymphs approaching fairly o er the sward\\nOne, loveliest, holding her white hand toward\\nThe dazzling sunrise two sisters sweet\\nBending their graceful figures till they meet\\nOver the trippings of a little child\\nAnd some are hearing, eagerly, the wild 370\\nThrilling liquidity of dewy piping.\\nSee, in another picture, nymphs are wiping\\nCherishingly Diana s timorous limbs\\nA fold of lawny mantle dabbling swims\\nAt the bath s edge, and keeps a gentle motion\\nWith the subsiding crystal as when ocean\\nHeaves calmly its broad swelling smoothiness o er\\nIts rocky marge, and balances once more\\nThe patient weeds that now unshent by foam\\nFeel all about their undulating home. 380\\nSappho s meek head was there half smiling down\\nAt nothing just as though the earnest frown\\nOf over-thinking had that moment gone\\nFrom off her brow, and left her all alone.\\nGreat Alfred s too, with anxious, pitying eyes.\\nAs if he always listened to the sighs\\nOf the goaded world and Kosciusko s, worn\\nBy horrid suffrance mightily forlorn.\\nPetrarch, outstepping from the shady green.\\nStarts at the sight of Laura nor can wean 390", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "EPISTLE TO MY BROTHER GEORGE 41\\nHis eyes from her sweet face. Most happy they\\nFor over them was seen a free display\\nOf outspread wings, and from between them shone\\nThe face of Poesy from off her throne\\nShe overlook d things that I scarce could tell.\\nThe very sense of where I was might well\\nKeep Sleep aloof but more than that there came\\nThought after thought to nourish up the flame\\nWithin my breast so that the morning light\\nSurprised me even from a sleepless night 40.\\nAnd up I rose refresh d, and glad, and gay,\\nResolving to begin that very day\\nThese lines and howsoever they be done,\\nI leave them as a father does his son.\\nEPISTLE TO MY BROTHER GEORGE\\nFull many a dreary hour have I past.\\nMy brain bewilder d, and my mind o ercast\\nWith heaviness in seasons when I ve thought\\nNo spherey strains by me could e er be caught\\nFrom the blue dome, though I to dimness gaze\\nOn the far depth where sheeted lightning plays\\nOr, on the wavy grass outstretch d supinely,\\nPry mong the stars, to strive to think divinely\\nThat I should never hear Apollo s song.\\nThough feathery clouds were floating all along 10\\nThe purple west, and, two bright streaks between,\\nThe golden lyre itself were dimly seen\\nThat the still murmur of the honey bee\\nWould never teach a rural song to me\\nThat the bright glance from beauty s eyelids slant-\\ning\\nWould never make a lay of mine enchanting,\\nOr warm my breast with ardour to unfold\\nSome tale of love and arms in time of old.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "42 EARLY POEMS\\nBut there are times, when those that love the bay,\\nFly from all sorrowing far, far away 20\\nA sudden glow comes on them, nought they see\\nIn water, earth, or air, but poesy.\\nIt has been said, dear George, and true I hold it,\\n(For knightly Spenser to Libertas told it,)\\nThat when a Poet is in such a trance,\\nIn air he sees white coursers paw and prance,\\nBestridden of gay knights, in gay apparel.\\nWho at each other tilt in playful quarrel\\nAnd what we, ignorantly, sheet-lightning call.\\nIs the swift opening of their wide portal, 30\\nWhen the bright warder blows his trumpet clear,\\nWhose tones reach nought on earth but Poefs\\near.\\nWhen these enchanted portals open wide,\\nAnd through the light the horsemen swiftly glide,\\nThe Poet s eye can reach those golden halls,\\nAnd view the glory of their festivals\\nTheir ladies fair, that in the distance seem\\nFit for the silv ring of a seraph s dream\\nTheir rich brimm d goblets, that incessant run\\nLike the bright spots that move about the sun 40\\nAnd, when upheld, the wine from each bright jar\\nPours with the lustre of a falling star.\\nYet further off are dimly seen their bowers,\\nOf which no mortal eye can reach the flowers\\nAnd t is right just, for well Apollo knows\\nT would make the Poet quarrel with the rose.\\nAll that s reveal d from that far seat of blisses,\\nIs, the clear fountains interchanging kisses,\\nAs gracefully descending, light and thin,\\nLike silver streaks across a dolphin s fin, 50\\nWhen he upswimmeth from the coral caves.\\nAnd sports with half his tail above the waves.\\nThese wonders strange he sees, and many more,\\nWhose head is pregnant with poetic lore.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "EPISTLE TO MY BROTHER GEORGE 43\\nShould he upon an evening ramble fare\\nWith forehead to the soothing breezes bare,\\nWould he nought see but the dark, silent blue,\\nWith all its diamonds trembling through and\\nthrough\\nOr the coy moon, when in the waviness\\nOf whitest clouds she does her beauty dress, 60\\nAnd staidly paces higher up, and higher,\\nLike a sweet nun in holiday attire\\nAh, yes much more would start into his sight\\nThe revelries, and mysteries of ni,^ht:\\nAnd should I ever see them, I will tell you\\nSuch tales as needs must with amazement spell\\nyou.\\nThese are the living pleasures of the bard\\nBut richer far posterity s award.\\nWhat does he murmur with his lairst breath,\\nWhile his proud eye looks th:ough the film of\\ndeath 70\\nWhat though I leave this dull a i earthl^ -^iil\\nYet shall my spirit lofty converse Ul\\nWith after times. The patriot si m i^\\nMy stern alarum, and unsheath his stee!\\nOr in the senate thunder out my ;turabe^ i\\nTo startle princes from their easy alumbc\\nThe sage will mingle with each r-ioral the.\\nMy happy thoughts sententious he will teem\\nWith lofty periods when my verses fire him,\\nAnd then I 11 stoop from heaven to inspire him. 80\\nLays have I left of such a dear delight\\nThat maids will sing them on tieir bridal night.\\nGay villagers, upon a morn of May,\\nWhen they have tired their genti^ limbs with pby,\\nAnd form d a snowy circle on ti. grass,\\nAnd plac d in midst of all that io vely lass\\nWho chosen is their queen, \u00e2\u0080\u0094with her fine bead\\nCrowned with flowers purple, white, and red", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": ",44 EARLY POEMS\\nFor there the lily, and the musk-rose, sighing,\\nAre emblems true of hapless lovers dying 90\\nBetween her breasts, that never yet felt trouble,\\nA bunch of violets full blown, and double,\\nSerenely sleep she from a casket takes\\nA little book, and then a joy awakes\\nAbout each youthful heart, with stifled cries,\\nAnd rubbing of white hands, and sparkling eyes\\nFor she s to read a tale of hopes and fears\\nOne that I foster d in my youthful years\\nThe pearls, that on each glist ning circlet sleep.\\nGush ever and anon with silent creep, 100\\nLured by the innocent dimples. To sweet rest\\nShall the dear babe, upon its mother s breast,\\nBe lull d with songs of mine. Fair world, adieu\\nThy dales and hills ai(u faaing^from my view\\nSwiftly I mount, upon wide-spreading pinions,\\nFar from the narrow bounds of thy dominions.\\nFull joy 1 feel, while thus I cleave the air,\\nThat njy S ..[t verse will charm tliy daughters fair.\\nAnd warm thy sons Ah, my dear friend and\\nher,\\nonce, my mad ambition smother, no\\njoys like these, sure I should be\\nnd dearer to society.\\n1 is true, I ve felt relief from pain\\nJ bright thought has darted through my\\nbrain\\nThrough all that dty T ve felt a greater pleasure\\nThan if I d brough: to light a hidden treasure.\\nAs to my sonnets, though none else should heed\\nthem,\\nI feel delighted, still, that you should read them.\\nOf late, too, I have had much calm enjoyment,\\nStretch d on the grass at my best lov d employ-\\nment 120\\nOf scribbling lines for you. These things I thought\\nWhile, in my face, thy freshest breeze I caught.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "TO MY BROTHER GEORGE 45\\nE en now I m pillow d on a bed of flowers\\nThat crowns a lofty cliff, which proudly towers\\nAbove the ocean waves. The stalks and blades\\nChequer my tablet with their quivering shades.\\nOn one side is a field of drooping oats,\\nThrough which the poppies show their scarlet\\ncoats\\nSo pert and useless, that they bring to mind\\nThe scarlet coats that pester human-kind. 130\\nAnd on the other side, outspread, is seen\\nOcean s blue mantle, streak d with purple, and\\ngreen\\nNow t is I see a canvass d ship, and now\\nMark the bright silver curling round her prow.\\nI see the lark down-dropping to his nest.\\nAnd the broad- winged sea-^all jcver at rest\\nFor when no more he spreads his feathers free,\\nHis breast is dancing on the restless sea.\\nNow I direct my eyes into the west.\\nWhich at this moment is in sunbeams drest 140\\nWhy westward turn T was but to say adieu\\nT was but to kiss my hand, dear George, to you\\nTO MY BROTHER GEORGE\\nMany the wonders I this day have seen\\nThe sun, when first he kist away the tears\\nThat fill d the eyes of morn; the laurell d peers\\nWho from the feathery gold of evening lean\\nThe ocean with its vastness, its blue green.\\nIts ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,\\nIts voice mysterious, which whoso hears\\nMust think on what will be, and what has been.\\nE en now, dear George, while this for you I write,\\n-Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping\\nSo scantly, that it seems her bridal night,\\nAnd she her half-discover d revels keeping.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "46 EARLY POEMS\\nBut what, without the social thought of thee,\\nWould be the wonders of the sky and sea\\nTO\\nHad I a man s fair form, then might my sighs\\nBe echoed swiftly through that ivory shell\\nThine ear, and find thy gentle heart so well\\nWould passion arm me for the enterprise\\nBut ah I am no knight whose foeman dies\\nNo cuirass glistens on my bosom s swell\\nI am no happy shepherd of the dell\\nWhose lips have trembled with a maiden s eyes.\\nYet must I dote upon thee, call thee sweet,\\nSweeter by far than Hybla s honied roses\\nWhen steep d in dew rich to intoxication.\\nAh I will taste that dew, for me tis meet,\\nAnd when the moon her pallid face discloses,\\nI 11 gather some by spells, and incantation.\\nSPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO A\\nPOEM\\nLo I must tell a tale of chivalry\\nFor large white plumes are dancing in mine eye.\\nNot like the formal crest of latter days\\nBut bending in a thousand graceful ways\\nSo graceful, that it seems no mortal hand,\\nOr e en the touch of Archimago s wand,\\nCould charm them into such an attitude.\\nWe must think rather, that in playful mood.\\nSome mountain breeze had turned its chief delight.\\nTo show this wonder of its gentle might. ic\\nLo I must tell a tale of chivalry\\nFor while I muse, the lance points slantingly", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION 47\\nAthwart the morning air some lady sweet,\\nWho cannot feel for cold her tender feet,\\nFrom the worn top of some old battlement\\nHails it with tears, her stout defender sent\\nAnd from her own pure self no joy dissembling.\\nWraps round her ample robe with happy trembling.\\nSometimes, when the good Knight his rest would\\ntake.\\nIt is reflected, clearly, in a lake, 20\\nWith the young ashen boughs, gainst which it\\nrests,\\nAnd th half-seen mossiness of linnets nests.\\nAh shall I ever tell its cruelty,\\nWhen the fire flashes from a warrior s eye,\\nAnd his tremendous hand is grasping it.\\nAnd his dark brow for very wrath is knit\\nOr when his spirit, with more calm intent,\\nLeaps to the honours of a tournament,\\nAnd makes the gazers round about the ring\\nStare at the grandeur of the balancing 30\\nNo, no this is far off then how shall I\\nRevive the dying tones of minstrelsy,\\nWhich linger yet about long gothic arches,\\nIn dark green ivy, and among wild larches\\nHow sing the splendour of the revelries,\\nWhen butts of wine are drunk off to the lees\\nAnd that bright lance, against the fretted wall,\\nBeneath the shade of stately banneral.\\nIs slung with shining cuirass, sword, and shield\\nWhere ye may see a spur in bloody field. 40\\nLight-footed damsels move with gentle paces\\nRound the wide hall, and show their happy faces\\nOr stand in courtly talk by fives and sevens\\nLike those fair stars that twinkle in the heavens.\\nYet must I tell a tale of chivalry\\nOr wherefore comes that knight so proudly by\\nWherefore more proudly does the gentle knight\\nRein in the swelling of his ample might", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "48 EARLY POEMS\\nSpenser thy brows are arched, open, kind,\\nAnd come like a clear sunrise to my mind 50\\nAnd always does my heart with pleasure dance,\\nWhen I think on thy noble countenance\\nWhere never yet was ought more earthly seen\\nThan the pure freshness of thy laurels green.\\nTherefore, great bard, I not so fearfully\\nCall on thy gentle spirit to hover nigh\\nMy daring steps or if thy tender care,\\nThus startled unaware.\\nBe jealous that the foot of other wight\\nShould madly follow that bright path of light 60\\nTrac d by thy lov d Libertas he will speak.\\nAnd tell thee that my prayer is very meek\\nThat I will follow with due reverence.\\nAnd start with awe at mine own strange pretence.\\nHim thou wilt hear so I will rest in hope\\nTo see wide plains, fair trees, and lawny slope\\nThe morn, the eve, the light, the shade, the flow-\\ners\\nClear streams, smooth lakes, and overlooking towers.\\nCALIDORE\\nA FRAGMENT\\nYoung Calidore is paddling o er the lake\\nHis healthful spirit eager and awake\\nTo feel the beauty of a silent eve,\\nWhich seem d full loth this happy world to leave\\nThe light dwelt o er the scene so lingeringly.\\nHe bares his forehead to the cool blue sky,\\nAnd smiles at the far clearness all around,\\nUntil his heart is well nigh over wound\\nAnd turns for calmness to the pleasant green\\nOf easy slopes, and shadowy trees that lean i\\nSo elegantly o er the waters brim\\nAnd show their blossoms trim.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "CALIDORE 49\\nScarce can his clear and nimble eyesight follow\\nThe freaks and dartings of the black-wing d swal-\\nlow,\\nDelighting much, to see it half at rest,\\nDip so refreshingly its wings, and breast\\nGainst the smooth surface, and to mark anon,\\nThe widening circles into nothing gone.\\nAnd now the sharp keel of his little boat\\nComes up with ripple, and with easy float, 20\\nAnd glides into a bed of water-lilies\\nBroad-leav d are they, and their white canopies\\nAre upward turn d to catch the heavens dew.\\nNear to a little island s point they grew\\nWhence Calidore might have the goodliest view\\nOf this sweet spot of earth. The bowery shore\\nWent off in gentle windings to the hoar\\nAnd light blue mountains but no breathing man\\nWith a warm heart, and eye prepared to scan\\nNature s clear beauty, could pass lightly by 30\\nObjects that look d out so invitingly\\nOn either side. These, gentle Calidore\\nGreeted, as he had known them long before.\\nThe sidelong view of swelling leafiness.\\nWhich the glad setting sun in gold doth dress\\nWhence, ever and anon, the jay outsprings,\\nAnd scales upon the beauty of its wings.\\nThe lonely turret, shatter d, and outworn,\\nStands venerably proud too proud to mourn\\nIts long lost grandeur: fir-trees grow around, 40\\nAye dropping their hard fruit upon the ground.\\nThe little chapel, with the cross above,\\nUpholding wreaths of ivy the white dove,\\nThat on the windows spreads his feathers light,\\nAnd seems from purple clouds to wing its flight.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "50 EARLY POEMS\\nGreen tufted islands casting their soft shades\\nAcross the lake sequester d leafy glades,\\nThat through the dimness of their twilight show-\\nLarge dock-leaves, spiral foxgloves, or the glow\\nOf the cat s wild eyes, or the silvery stems 50\\nOf delicate birch-trees, or long grass which hems\\nA little brook. The youth had long been view-\\ning\\nThese pleasant things, and heaven was bedewing\\nThe mountain flowers, when his glad senses caught\\nA trumpet s silver voice. Ah it was fraught\\nWith many joys for him: the warder s ken\\nHad found white coursers prancing in the glen\\nFriends very dear to him he soon will see\\nSo pushes off his boat most eagerly.\\nAnd soon upon the lake he skims along, 60\\nDeaf to the nightingale s first under-song\\nNor minds he the white swans that dream so\\nsweetly\\nHis spirit flies before him so completely.\\nAnd now he turns a jutting point of land,\\nWhence may be seen the castle gloomy, and grand\\nNor will a bee buzz round two swelling peaches,\\nBefore the point of his light shallop reaches\\nThose marble steps that through the water dip\\nNow over them he goes with hasty trip.\\nAnd scarcely stays to ope the folding doors 70\\nAnon he leaps along the oaken floors\\nOf halls and corridors.\\nDelicious sounds those little bright-eyed things\\nThat float about the air on azure wings,\\nHad been less heartfelt by him than the clang\\nOf clattering hoofs into the court he sprang.\\nJust as two noble steeds, and palfreys twain,\\nWere slanting out their necks with loosen d rein", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "CALIDORE SI\\nWhile from beneath the threat ning portcullis\\nThey brought their happy burthens. What a kiss,\\nWhat gentle squeeze he gave each lady s hand 8i\\nHow tremblingly their delicate ankles spann d\\nInto how sweet a trance his soul was gone,\\nWhile whisperings of affection\\nMade him delay to let their tender feet\\nCome to the earth with an incline so sweet\\nFrom their low palfreys o er his neck they bent\\nAnd whether there were tears of languishment,\\nOr that the evening dew had pearl d their tresses,\\nHe feels a moisture on his cheek, and blesses 90\\nWith lips that tremble, and with glistening eye,\\nAll the soft luxury\\nThat nestled in his arms. A dimpled hand,\\nFair as some wonder out of fairy land,\\nHung from his shoulder like the drooping flowers\\nOf whitest Cassia, fresh from summer showers\\nAnd this he fondled with his happy cheek,\\nAs if for 3 oy he would no further seek\\nWhen the kind voice of good Sir Clerimond\\nCame to his ear, like something from beyond 100\\nHis present being so he gently drew\\nHis warm arms, thrilling now with pulses new,\\nFrom their sweet thrall, and forward gently bending,\\nThank d Heaven that his joy was never ending\\nWhile gainst his forehead he devoutly press d\\nA hand Heaven made to succoiu- the distress d\\nA hand that from the world s bleak promontory\\nHad lifted Calidore for deeds of glory.\\nAmid the pages, and the torches glare,\\nThere stood a knight, patting the flowing hair no\\nOf his proud horse s mane he was withal\\nA man of elegance, and stature tall\\nSo that the waving of his plumes would be\\nHigh as the berries of a wild ash-tree,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "52 EARLY POEMS\\nOr as the winged cap of Mercury.\\nHis armour was so dexterously wrought\\nIn shape, that sure no living man had thought\\nIt hard, and heavy steel but that indeed\\nIt was some glorious form, some splendid weed,\\nIn which a spirit new come from the skies 120\\nMight live, and show itself to human eyes.\\nT is the far-fam d, the brave Sir Gondibert,\\nSaid the good man to Calidore alert\\nWhile the young warrior with a step of grace\\nCame up, a courtly smile upon his face.\\nAnd mailed hand held out, ready to greet\\nThe large-eyed wonder, and ambitious heat\\nOf the aspiring boy who as he led\\nThose smiling ladies, often turned his head\\nTo admire the visor arched so gracefully 130\\nOver a knightly brow while they went by\\nThe lamps that from the high-roof d hall were pen-\\ndent,\\nAnd gave the steel a shining quite transcendent.\\nSoon in a pleasant chamber they are seated\\nThe sweet-lipp d ladies have already greeted\\nAll the green leaves that round the window clam-\\nber.\\nTo show their purple stars, and bells of amber.\\nSir Gondibert has doff d his shining steel,\\nGladdening in the free, and airy feel\\nOf a light mantle and while Clerimond 140\\nIs looking round about him with a fond\\nAnd placid eye, young Calidore is burning\\nTo hear of knightly deeds, and gallant spurning\\nOf all unworthiness and how the strong of arm\\nKept off dismay, and terror, and alarm\\nFrom lovely woman while brimful of this,\\nHe gave each damsel s hand so warm a kiss,\\nAnd had such manly ardour in his eye,\\nThat each at other look d half-staringly", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "EPISTLE TO C. C. CLARKE 53\\nAnd then their features started into smiles, 150\\nSweet as blue heavens o er enchanted isles.\\nSoftly the breezes from the forest came,\\nSoftly they blew aside the taper s flame\\nClear was the song from Philomel s far bower\\nGrateful the incense from the lime-tree flower\\nMysterious, wild, the far heard trumpet s tone\\nLovely the moon in ether, all alone\\nSweet too the converse of these happy mortals,\\nAs that of busy spirits when the portals\\nAre closing in the west or that soft humming 160\\nWe hear around when Hesperus is coming.\\nSweet be their sleep.\\nEPISTLE TO CHARLES COWDEN\\nCLARKE\\nOft have you seen a swan superbly frowning.\\nAnd with proud breast his own white shadow\\ncrowning\\nHe slants his neck beneath the waters bright\\nSo silently, it seems a beam of light\\nCome from the galaxy anon he sports,\\nWith outspread wings the Naiad Zephyr courts,\\nOr ruffles all the surface of the lake\\nIn striving from its crystal face to take\\nSome diamond water-drops, and them to treasure\\nIn milky nest, and sip them off at leisure. 10\\nBut not a moment can he there insure them,\\nNor to such downy rest can he allure them\\nFor down they rush as though they would be free.\\nAnd drop like hours into eternity.\\nJust like that bird am I in loss of time.\\nWhene er I venture on the stream of rhyme\\nWith shatter d boat, oar snapt, and canvas rent,\\nI slowly sail, scarce knowing my intent", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "54 EARLY POEMS\\nStill scooping up the water with my fingers,\\nIn which a trembling diamond never lingers. 20\\nBy this, friend Charles, you may full plainly see\\nWhy I have never penn d a line to thee\\nBecause my thoughts were never free, and clear,\\nAnd little fit to please a classic ear\\nBecause my wine was of too poor a savour\\nFor one whose palate gladdens in the flavour\\nOf sparkling Helicon small good it were\\nTo take him to a desert rude, and bare,\\nWho had on Baiae s shore reclin d at ease,\\nWhile Tasso s page was floating in a breeze 30\\nThat gave soft music from Armida s bowers,\\nMingled with fragrance from her rarest flowers\\nSmall good to one who had by Mulla s stream\\nFondled the maidens with the breasts of cream\\nWho had beheld Belphoebe in a brook,\\nAnd lovely Una in a leafy nook.\\nAnd Archimago leaning o er his book\\nWho had of all that s sweet tasted, and seen,\\nFrom silv ry ripple, up to beauty s queen\\nFrom the sequester d haunts of gay Titania, 40\\nTo the blue dwelling of divine Urania\\nOne, who of late had ta en sweet forest walks\\nWith him who elegantly chats and talks\\nThe wrong d Libertas, who has told you stories\\nOf laurel chaplets, and Apollo s glories\\nOf troops chivalrous prancing through a city.\\nAnd tearful ladies made for love, and pity:\\nWith many else which I have never known.\\nThus have I thought and days on days have\\nflown\\nSlowly, or rapidly unwilling still 50\\nFor you to try my dull, unlearned quill.\\nNor should I now, but that I ve known you long\\nThat you first taught me all the sweets of song", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "EPISTLE TO C. C. CLARKE 55\\nThe grand, the sweet, the terse, the free, the fine\\nWhat swell d with pathos, and what right divine\\nSpenserian vowels that elope with ease.\\nAnd float along like birds o er summer seas\\nMiltonian storms, and more, Miltonian tenderness\\nMichael in arms, and more, meek Eve s fair slender-\\nness.\\nWho read for me the sonnet swelling loudly 60\\nUp to its climax, and then dying proudly\\nWho found for me the grandeur of the ode,\\nGrowing, like Atlas, stronger from its load\\nWho let me taste that more than cordial dram.\\nThe sharp, the rapier-pointed epigram\\nShow d me that epic was of all the king,\\nRound, vast, and spanning all, like Saturn s ring\\nYou too upheld the veil from Clio s beauty,\\nAnd pointed out the patriot s stern duty\\nThe might of Alfred, and the shaft of Tell 70\\nThe hand of Brutus, that so grandly fell\\nUpon a tyrant s head. Ah had I never seen,\\nOr known your kindness, what might I have been\\nWhat my enjoyments in my youthful years,\\nBereft of all that now my life endears\\nAnd can I e er these benefits forget\\nAnd can I e er repay the friendly debt\\nNo, doubly no yet should these rhymings\\nplease,\\nI shall roll on the grass with twofold ease\\nFor I have long time been my fancy feeding 80\\nWith hopes that you would one day think the read-\\ning\\nOt my rough verses not an hour misspent\\nShould it e er be so, what a rich content\\nSome weeks have pass d since last I saw the spires\\nIn lucent Thames reflected warm desires\\nTo see the sun o er-peep the eastern dimness\\nAnd morning shadows streaking into slimness,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "56 EARLY POEMS\\nAcross the lawny fields, and pebbly water\\nTo mark the time as they grow broad, and shorter\\nTo feel the air that plays about the hills, 90\\nAnd sips its freshness from the little rills\\nTo see high, golden corn wave in the light\\nWhen Cynthia smiles upon a summer s night,\\nAnd peers among the cloudlet s jet and white.\\nAs though she were reclining in a bed\\nOf bean blossoms, in heaven freshly shed.\\nNo sooner had I stepp d into these pleasures.\\nThan I began to think of rhymes and measures\\nThe air that floated by me seem d to say\\nWrite thou wilt never have a better day. 100\\nAnd so I did. When many lines I d written.\\nThough with their grace I was not oversmitten,\\nYet, as my hand was warm, I thought I d better\\nTrust to my feelings, and write you a letter.\\nSuch an attempt required an inspiration\\nOf a peculiar sort, a consummation\\nWhich, had I felt, these scribblings might have\\nbeen\\nVerses from which the soul would never wean\\nBut many days have past since last my heart\\nWas warm d luxuriously by divine Mozart no\\nBy Arne delighted, or by Handel madden d\\nOr by the song of Erin pierc d and sadden d\\nWhat time you were before the music sitting,\\nAnd the rich notes to each sensation fitting.\\nSince I have walk d with you through shady lanes\\nThat freshly terminate in open plains.\\nAnd revell d in a chat that ceased not\\nWhen at night-fall among your books we got\\nNo, nor when supper came, nor after that,\\nNor when reluctantly I took my hat 120\\nNo, nor till cordially you shook my hand\\nMid- way between our homes your accents bland\\nStill sounded in my ears, when I no- more\\nCould hear your footsteps touch the grav ly floor.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "ADDRESSED TO B. R. HAYDON 57\\nSometimes I lost them, and then found again\\nYou changed the foot-path for the grassy plain.\\nIn those still moments I have wish d you joys\\nThat well you know to honour Life s very toys\\nWith him, said I, will take a pleasant charm\\nIt cannot be that ought will work him harm. 130\\nThese thoughts now come o er me with all their\\nmight\\nAgain I shake your hand, friend Charles, good\\nnight.\\nTO MY BROTHERS\\nSmall, busy flames play through the fresh-laid\\ncoals,\\nAnd their faint cracklings o er our silence creep\\nLike whispers of the household gods that keep\\nA gentle empire o er fraternal souls.\\nAnd while, for rhymes, I search around the poles,\\nYour eyes are fix d, as in poetic sleep,\\nUpon the lore so voluble and deep.\\nThat aye at fall of night our care condoles.\\nThis is your birth-day, Tom, and I rej oice\\nThat thus it passes smoothly, quietly\\nMany such eves of gently whisp ring noise\\nMay we together pass, and calmly try\\nWhat are this world s true joys, ere the great\\nVoice,\\nFrom its fair face, shall bid our spirits fly.\\nADDRESSED TO BENJAMIN ROBERT\\nHAYDON\\nI\\nGreat spirits now on earth are sojourning\\nHe of the cloud, the cataract, the lake.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "58 EARLY POEMS\\nWho on Helvellyn s summit, wide awake.\\nCatches his freshness from Archangel s wing\\nHe of the rose, the violet, the spring,\\nThe social smile, the chain for Freedom s sake\\nAnd lo whose steadfastness would never take\\nA meaner sound than Raphael s whispering.\\nAnd other spirits there are standing apart\\nUpon the forehead of the age to come\\nThese, these will give the world another heart,\\nAnd other pulses. Hear ye not the hum\\nOf mighty workings in the human mart\\nListen awhile ye nations, and be dumb.\\nII\\nHiGHMiNDEDNESS, a jcalousy for good,\\nA loving-kindness for the great man s fame.\\nDwells here and there with people of no name,\\nIn noisome alley, and in pathless wood\\nAnd where we think the truth least understood,\\nOft may be found a singleness of aim,\\nThat ought to frighten into hooded shame\\nA money-mong ring, pitiable brood.\\nHow glorious this affection for the cause\\nOf steadfast genius, toiling gallantly\\nWhat when a stout unbending champion awes\\nEnvy, and Malice to their native sty\\nUnnumber d souls breathe out a still applause,\\nProud to behold him in his country s eye.\\nTO KOSCIUSKO\\nGood Kosciusko, thy great name alone\\nIs a full harvest whence to reap high feeling\\nIt comes upon us like the glorious pealing\\nOf the wide spheres an everlasting tone.\\nAnd now it tells me, that in worlds unknown.\\nThe names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "STANZAS 59\\nAre changed to harmonies, for ever stealing\\nThrough cloudless blue, and round each silver\\nthrone.\\nIt tells me too, that on a happy day.\\nWhen some good spirit walks upon the earth,\\nThy name with Alfred s, and the great of yore,\\nGently commingling, gives tremendous birth\\nTo a loud hymn, that sounds far, far away\\nTo where the great God lives for evermore.\\nTO G. A. W.\\nNymph of the downward smile and sidelong glance,\\nIn what diviner moments of the day\\nArt thou most lovely When gone far astray\\nInto the labyrinths of sweet utterance\\nOr when serenely wand ring in a trance\\nOf sober thought Or when starting away.\\nWith careless robe, to meet the morning ray,\\nThou spar st the flowers in thy mazy dance\\nHaply t is when thy ruby lips part sweetly,\\nAnd so remain, because thou listenest\\nBut thou to please wert nurtured so completely\\nThat I can never tell what mood is best.\\nI shall as soon pronounce which Grace more neatly\\nTrips it before Apollo than the rest.\\nSTANZAS\\nIn a drear-nighted December\\nToo happy, happy tree.\\nThy branches ne er remember\\nTheir green felicity\\nThe north cannot undo them.\\nWith a sleety whistle through them\\nNor frozen thawings glue them\\nFrom budding at the prime.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "6o EARLY POEMS\\nIn a drear-nighted December,\\nToo happy, happy brook,\\nThy bubblings ne er remember\\nApollo s summer look\\nBut with a sweet forgetting,\\nThey stay their crystal fretting,\\nNever, never petting\\nAbout the frozen time.\\nAh would t were so with many\\nA gentle girl and boy\\nBut were there ever any\\nWrith d not at passed joy\\nTo know the change and feel it,\\nWhen there is none to heal it,\\nNor numbed sense to steal it.\\nWas never said in rhyme.\\nWRITTEN IN DISGUST OF VULGAR\\nSUPERSTITION\\nThe church bells toll a melancholy round.\\nCalling the people to some other prayers.\\nSome other gloominess, more dreadful cares,\\nMore hearkening to the sermon s horrid sound.\\nSurely the mind of man is closely bound\\nIn some black spell seeing that each one tears\\nHimself from fireside joys, and Lydian airs.\\nAnd converse high of those with glory crown d.\\nStill, still they toll, and I should feel a damp\\nA chill as from a tomb, did I not know\\nThat they are dying like an outburnt lamp\\nThat t is their sighing, wailing ere they go\\nInto oblivion that fresh flowers will grow,\\nAnd many glories of immortal stamp.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET 6i\\nSONNET\\nHappy is England I could be content\\nTo see no other verdure than its own\\nTo feel no other breezes than are blown\\nThrough its tall woods with high romances blent\\nYet do I sometimes feel a languishment\\nFor skies Italian, and an inward groan\\nTo sit upon an Alp as on a throne,\\nAnd half forget what world or worldling meant.\\nHappy is England, sweet her artless daughters\\nEnough their simple loveliness for me,\\nEnough their whitest arms in silence clinging\\nYet do I often warmly burn to see\\nBeauties of deeper glance, and hear their sing-\\ning,\\nAnd float with them about the summer waters.\\nON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET\\nThe poetry of earth is never dead\\nWhen all the birds are faint with the hot sun,\\nAnd hide in cooling trees; a voice will run\\nFrom hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead\\nThat is the Grasshopper s he takes the lead\\nIn summer luxury, he has never done\\nWith his delights for when tired out with fun,\\nHe rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.\\nThe poetry of earth is ceasing never\\nOn a lone winter evening, when the frost\\nHas wrought a silence, from the stove there\\nshrills\\nThe Cricket s song, in warmth increasing ever,\\nAnd seems to one, in drowsiness half lost.\\nThe Grasshopper s among some grassy hills.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "62 EARLY POEMS\\nSONNET\\nAfter dark vapours have oppress d our plains\\nFor a long dreary season, comes a day-\\nBorn of the gentle South, and clears away\\nFrom the sick heavens all unseemly stains.\\nThe anxious month, relieved its pains,\\nTakes as a long-lost right the feel of May\\nThe eyelids with the passing coolness play.\\nLike rose leaves with the drip of summer rains.\\nAnd calmest thoughts come round us as, of leaves\\nBudding, fruit ripening in stillness, Autu^nn\\nsuns\\nSmiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves,\\nSweet Sappho s cheek, a sleeping infant s\\nbreath,\\nThe gradual sand that through an hour-glass\\nruns,\\nA woodland rivulet, a Poet s death.\\nWRITTEN ON THE BLANK SPACE AT\\nTHE END OF CHAUCER S TALE OF\\nTHE FLOURE AND THE LEFE\\nThis pleasant tale is like a little copse\\nThe honied lines so freshly interlace,\\nTo keep the reader in so sweet a place,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2So that he here and there full-hearted stops\\nAnd oftentimes he feels the dewy drops\\nCome cool and suddenly against his face.\\nAnd, by the wandering melody, may trace\\nWhich way the tender-legged linnet hops.\\nOh what a power has white simplicity!\\nWhat mighty power has this gentle story\\nI, that do ever feel athirst for glory.\\nCould at this moment be content to lie\\nMeekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings\\nWere heard of none beside the mournful robins.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "TO HAYDON 63\\nON SEEING THE ELGIN MARBLES\\nMy spirit is too weak mortality\\nWeighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,\\nAnd each imagin d pinnacle and steep\\nOf godlike hardship tells me I must die\\nLike a sick Eagle looking at the sky.\\nYet t is a gentle luxury to weep\\nThat I have not the cloudy winds to keep,\\nFresh for the opening of the morning s eye.\\nSuch dim-conceived glories of the brain\\nBring round the heart an indescribable feud\\nSo do these wonders a most dizzy pain,\\nThat mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude\\nWasting of old Time with a billowy main\\nA sun a shadow of a magnitude.\\nTO HAYDON\\n(with the preceding sonnet)\\nHaydon forgive me that I cannot speak\\nDefinitively of these mighty things\\nForgive me, that I have not Eagle s wings\\nThat what I want I know not where to seek\\nAnd think that I would not be over meek,\\nIn rolling out upfollow d thunderings,\\nEven to the steep of Heliconian springs,\\nWere I of ample strength for such a freak\\nThink too, that all those numbers should be thine\\nWhose else In this who touch thy vesture s\\nhem?\\nFor when men star d at what was most divine\\nWith browless idiotism o erwise phlegm\\nThou hadst beheld the Hesperean shine\\nOf their star in the East, and gone to worship\\nthem.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "64 EARLY POEMS\\nTO LEIGH HUNT, ESQ.\\n[a dedication]\\nGlory and loveliness have pass d away\\nFor if we wander ont in early morn,\\nNo wreathed incense do we see upborne\\nInto the east, to meet the smiling day\\nNo crowd of nymphs soft-voic d and young, and\\ngay,\\nIn woven baskets bringing ears of corn,\\nRoses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn\\nThe shrine of Flora in her early May.\\nBut there are left delights as high as these,\\nAnd I shall ever bless my destiny.\\nThat in a time, when under pleasant trees\\nPan is no longer sought, I feel a free,\\nA leafy luxury, seeing I could please\\nWith these poor offerings, a man like thee.\\nON THE SEA\\nIt keeps eternal whisperings around\\nDesolate shores, and with its mighty swell\\nGluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell\\nOf Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.\\nOften tis in such gentle temper found,\\nThat scarcely will the very smallest shell\\nBe mov d for days from where it sometime fell,\\nWhen last the winds of Heaven were unbound.\\nO ye who have your eyeballs vex d and tir d,\\nFeast them upon the wideness of the Sea\\nO ye whose ears are dinn d with uproar rude,\\nOr fed too much with cloying melody,\\nSit ye near some old cavern s mouth, and brood\\nUntil ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "ON 65\\nLINES\\nUnfelt, unheard, unseen,\\nI ve left my little queen,\\nHer languid arms in silver slumber lying\\nAh through their nestling touch,\\nWho who could tell how much\\nThere is for madness cruel, or complying\\nThose faery lids how sleek\\nThose lips how moist they speak.\\nIn ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds\\nInto my fancy s ear\\nMelting a burden dear,\\nHow Love doth know no fulness, and no bounds.\\nTrue tender monitors\\nI bend unto your laws\\nThis sweetest day for dalliance was born 1\\nSo, without more ado,\\nI 11 feel my heaven anew.\\nFor all the blushing of the hasty mom.\\nON\\nThink not of it, sweet one, so\\nGive it not a tear\\nSigh thou mayst, and bid it go\\nAny any where.\\nDo not look so sad, sweet one,\\nSad and fadingly\\nShed one drop, then it is gone,\\nOh t was born to die\\nStill so pale then dearest weep\\nWeep, I 11 count the tears,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "66 EARLY POEMS\\nFor each will I invent a bliss\\nFor thee in after years.\\nBrighter has it left thine eyes\\nThan a sunny rill\\nAnd thy whispering melodies\\nAre more tender still.\\nYet as all things mourn awhile\\nAt fleeting blisses\\nE en let us too but be our dirge\\nA dirge of kisses.\\nON A PICTURE OF LEANDER\\nCome hither, all sweet maidens soberly,\\nDown-looking aye, and with a chasten d light\\nHid in the fringes of your eyelids white,\\nAnd meekly let your fair hands joined be,\\nAs if so gentle that ye could not see,\\nUntouch d, a victim of your beauty bright,\\nSinking away to his young spirit s night,\\nSinking bewilder d mid the dreary sea:\\nT is young Leander toiling to his death\\nNigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips\\nFor Hero s cheek, and smiles against her smile.\\nO hoiTid dream see how his body dips\\nDead-heavy arms and shoulders gleam awhile\\nHe s gone up bubbles all his amorous breath\\nON LEIGH HUNT S POEM, THE STORY\\nOF RIMINI\\nWho loves to peer up at the morning sun.\\nWith half -shut eyes and comfortable cheek.\\nLet him, with this sweet tale, full often seek\\nFor meadows where the little rivers run", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "ON A LOCK OF MILTON S HAIR 67\\nWho loves to linger with that brightest one\\nOf Heaven Hesperus let him lowly speak\\nThese numbers to the night, and starlight meek,\\nOr moon, if that her hunting be begun.\\nHe who knows these delights, and too is prone\\nTo moralize upon a smile or tear,\\nWill find at once a region of his own,\\nA bower for his spirit, and will steer\\nTo alleys, where the fir-tree drops its cone,\\nWhere robins hop, and fallen leaves are sear.\\nSONNET\\nWhen I have fears that I may cease to be\\nBefore my pen has glean d my teeming brain,\\nBefore high piled books, in charactry,\\nHold like rich garners the full -ri pen d grain\\nWhen I behold, upon the night s starr d face,\\nHuge cloudy symbols of a high romance.\\nAnd think that I may never live to trace\\nTheir shadows, with the magic hand of chance\\nAnd when I feel, fair creature of an hour\\nThat I shall never look upon thee more.\\nNever have relish in the faery power\\nOf unreflecting love then on the shore\\nOf the wide world I stand alone, and think\\nTill Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.\\nON SEEING A LOCK OF MILTON S HAIR\\nChief of organic numbers\\nOld Scholar of the Spheres\\nThy spirit never slumbers,\\nBut rolls about our ears,\\nFor ever and for ever\\nO what a mad endeavour\\nWorketh he.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "68 EARLY POEMS\\nWho to thy sacred and ennobled hearse\\nWould offer a burnt sacrifice of verse\\nAnd melody.\\nHow heavenward thou soundest,\\nLive Temple of sweet noise,\\nAnd Discord unconfoundest,\\nGiving Delight new joys,\\nAnd Pleasure nobler pinions\\nO, where are thy dominions\\nLend thine ear\\nTo a young Delian oath, ay, by thy soul.\\nBy all that from thy mortal lips did roll.\\nAnd by the kernel of thine earthly love.\\nBeauty, in things on earth, and things above,\\nI swear\\nWhen every childish fashion\\nHas vanish d from my rhyme,\\nWill I, grey -gone in passion.\\nLeave to an after-time,\\nHymning and harmony\\nOf thee, and of thy works, and of thy life\\nBut vain is now the burning and the strife,\\nPangs are in vain, until I grow high-rife\\nWith old Philosophy,\\nAnd mad with glimpses of futurity\\nFor many years my offering must be hush d\\nWhen I do speak, I 11 think upon this hour,\\nBecause I feel my forehead hot and flush d.\\nEven at the simplest vassal of thy power,\\nA lock of thy bright hair\\nSudden it came.\\nAnd I was startled, when I caught thy name\\nCoupled so unaware\\nYet, at the moment, temperate was my blood.\\nI thought I had beheld it from the flood.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN 69\\nON SITTING DOWN TO READ KING\\nLEAR ONCE AGAIN\\nO GOLDEN-TONGUED RomancG, with serene lute\\nFair plumed Syren, Queen of far away\\nLeave melodizing on this wintry day,\\nShut up thine olden pages, and be mute\\nAdieu for once again the fierce dispute.\\nBetwixt damnation and impassion d clay,\\nMust I burn through once more humbly assay\\nThe bitter sweet of this Shakespearean fruit:\\nChief Poet and ye clouds of Albion,\\nBegetters of our deep eternal theme\\nWhen through the old oak forest I am gone,\\nLet me not wander in a barren dream,\\nBut when I am consumed in the Fire,\\nGive me new Phcenix-wings to fly at my desire.\\nLINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN\\nSouls of Poets dead and gone.\\nWhat Elysium have ye known,\\nHappy field or mossy cavern,\\nChoicer than the Mermaid Tavern?\\nHave ye tippled drink more fine\\nThan mine host s Canary wine\\nOr are fruits of Paradise\\nSweeter than those dainty pies\\nOf venison O generous food\\nDrest as though bold Robin Hood\\nWould, with his maid Marian,\\nSup and bowse from horn and can.\\nI have heard that on a day\\nMine host s sign-board flew away,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "70 EARLY POEMS\\nNobody knew whither, till\\nAn astrologer s old quill\\nTo a sheepskin gave the story,\\nSaid he saw you in your glory,\\nUnderneath a new-old sign\\nSipping beverage divine,\\nAnd pledging with contented smack\\nThe Mermaid in the Zodiac.\\nSouls of Poets dead and gone,\\nWhat Elysium have ye known,\\nHappy field or mossy cavern,\\nChoicer than the Mermaid Tavern\\nROBIN HOOD\\nTO A FRIEND\\nNo those days are gone away,\\nAnd their hours are old and gray,\\nAnd their minutes buried all\\nUnder the down-trodden pall\\nOf the leaves of many years\\nMany times have Winter s shears,\\nFrozen North, and chilling East,\\nSounded tempests to the feast\\nOf the forest s whispering fleeces,\\nSince men knew nor rent nor leases.\\nNo, the bugle sounds no more,\\nAnd the twanging bow no more\\nSilent is the ivory shrill\\nPast the heath and up the hill\\nThere is no mid -for est laugh.\\nWhere lone Echo gives the half\\nTo some wight, amaz d to hear\\nJesting, deep in forest drear.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "ROBIN HOOD 71\\nOn the fairest time of June\\nYou may go, with sun or moon, 20\\nOr the seven stars to light you,\\nOr the polar ray to right you\\nBut you never may behold\\nLittle John, or Robin bold\\nNever one, of all the clan,\\nThrumming on an empty can\\nSome old hunting ditty, while\\nHe doth his green way beguile\\nTo fair hostess Merriment,\\nDown beside the pasture Trent 30\\nFor he left the merry tale.\\nMessenger for spicy ale.\\nGone, the merry morris din\\nGone, the song of Gamely n\\nGone, the tough-belted outlaw\\nIdling in the grene shawe\\nAll are gone away and past\\nAnd if Robin should be cast\\nSudden from his turfed grave,\\nAnd if Marian should have 40\\nOnce again her forest days.\\nShe would weep, and he would craze\\nHe would swear, for all his oaks,\\nFall n beneath the dock-yard strokes.\\nHave rotted on the briny seas\\nShe would weep that her wild bees\\nSang not to her strange that honey\\nCan t be got without hard money\\nSo it is yet let us sing\\nHonour to the old bow-string 50\\nHonour to the bugle horn\\nHonour to the woods unshorn\\nHonour to the Lincoln green\\nHonour to the archer keen", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "72 EARLY POEMS\\nHonour to tight little John,\\nAnd the horse he rode upon\\nHonour to bold Robin Hood,\\nSleeping in the underwood\\nHonour to Maid Marian,\\nAnd to all the Sherwood clan 60\\nThough their days have hurried by.\\nLet us two a burden try.\\nTO THE NILE\\nSon of the old moon-mountains African 1\\nChief of the Pyramid and Crocodile\\nWe call thee fruitful, and that very while\\nA desert fills our seeing s inward span\\nNurse of swart nations since the world began,\\nArt thou so fruitful or dost thou beguile\\nSuch men to honour thee, who, worn with toil.\\nRest for a space twixt Cairo and Decan\\nO may dark fancies err They surely do\\nT is ignorance that makes a barren waste\\nOf all beyond itself. Thou dost bedew\\nGreen rushes like our rivers, and dost taste\\nThe pleasant sun-rise. Green isles hast thou too.\\nAnd to the sea as happily dost haste.\\nTO SPENSER\\nSpenser a jealous honourer of thine,\\nA forester deep in thy midmost trees,\\nDid last eve ask my promise to refine\\nSome English that might strive thine ear to please.\\nBut Elfin Poet, t is impossible\\nFor an inhabitant of wintry earth\\nTo rise like Phoebus with a golden quill\\nFire-wing d and make a morning in his mirth.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "SONG 73\\nIt is impossible to escape from toil\\nO the sudden and receive thy spiriting:\\nThe flower must drink the nature of the soil\\nBefore it can put forth its blossoming\\nBe with me in the summer days, and I\\nWill for thine honour and his pleasure try.\\nSONG\\nWRITTEN ON A BLANK PAGE IN BEAUMONT AND\\nFLETCHER S WORKS, BETWEEN CUPID S REVENGE*\\nAND THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN\\nSpirit here that reignest\\nSpirit here that painest 1\\nSpirit here that burnest\\nSpirit here that mournest\\nSpirit, I bow\\nMy forehead low,\\nEnshaded with thy pinions.\\nSpirit, I look\\nAll passion-struck\\nInto thy pale dominions.\\nSpirit here that laughest\\nSpirit here that quaff est!\\nSpirit here that dance st\\nNoble soul that prancest\\nSpirit, with thee\\nI join in the glee\\nA-nudging the elbow of Momus.\\nSpirit, I flush\\nWith a Bacchanal blush\\nJust fresh from the Banquet of Comus.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "74 EARLY POEMS\\nFRAGMENT\\nUnder the flag\\nOf each his faction, they to battle bring\\nTheir embryo atoms.\\nMilton.\\nWelcome joy, and welcome sorrow,\\nLethe s weed and Hermes feather\\nCome to-day, and come to-morrow,\\nI do love you both together\\nI love to mark sad faces in fair weather\\nAnd hear a merry laugh amid the thunder\\nFair and foul I love together.\\nMeadows sweet where flames are under,\\nAnd a giggle at a wonder\\nVisage sage at pantomime\\nFuneral, and steeple-chime\\nInfant playing with a skull\\nMorning fair, and shipwreck d hull\\nNightshade with the woodbine kissing\\nSerpents in red roses hissing\\nCleopatra regal-dress d\\nWith the aspic at her breast\\nDancing music, music sad.\\nBoth together, sane and mad\\nMuses bright, and muses pale\\nSombre Saturn, Momus hale\\nLaugh and sigh, and laugh again\\nOh, the sweetness of the pain\\nMuses bright and muses pale,\\nBare your faces of the veil\\nLet me see and let me write\\nOf the day, and of the night\\nBoth together let me slake\\nAll my thirst for sweet heart-ache\\nLet my bower be of yew,\\nInterwreath d with myrtles new\\nPines and lime-trees full in bloom.\\nAnd my couch a low grass-tomb.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "IN ANSWER TO A SONNET 75\\nWHAT THE THRUSH SAID\\nO Tiiou whose face hath felt the Winter s wind,\\nWhose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,\\nAnd the black elm tops mong the freezing stars,\\nTo thee the spring will be a harvest-time.\\nO thou, whose only book has been the light\\nOf supreme darkness which thou feddest on\\nNight after night when Phoebus was away,\\nTo thee the Spring shall be a triple morn.\\nO fret not after knowledge I have none.\\nAnd yet my song comes native with the warmth.\\nO fret not after knowledge I have none.\\nAnd yet the Evening listens. He who saddens\\nAt thought of idleness cannot be idle,\\nAnd he s awake who thinks himself asleep.\\nWRITTEN IN ANSWER TO A SONNET\\nENDING THUS:\\nDark eyes are dearer far\\nThan those that mock the hyacinthine bell.\\nBy J. H. Reynolds.\\nBlue T is the life of heaven, the domain\\nOf Cynthia, the wide palace of the sun,\\nThe tent of Hesperus, and all his train,\\nThe bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.\\nBlue T is the life of waters ocean\\nAnd all its vassal streams, pools numberless,\\nMay rage, and foam, and fret, but never can\\nSubside, if not to dark blue nativeness.\\nBlue Gentle cousin of the forest-green,\\nMarried to green in all the sweetest flowers,\\nForget-me-not, the blue bell, and, that queen\\nOf secrecy, the violet what strange powers\\nHast thou, as a mere shadow But how great,\\nWhen in an Eye thou art, alive with fate", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "76 EARLY POEMS\\nTO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS\\nO THAT a week could be an age, and we\\nFelt parting and warm meeting every week\\nThen one poor year a thousand years would be,\\nThe flush of welcome ever on the cheek\\nSo could we live long life in little space,\\nSo time itself would be annihilate.\\nSo a day s journey in oblivious haze\\nTo serve our joys would lengthen and dilate.\\nO to arrive each Monday morn from Ind\\nTo land each Tuesday from the rich Levant\\nIn little time a host of joys to bind,\\nAnd keep our souls in one eternal pant\\nThis morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught\\nMe how to harbor such a happy thought.\\nTHE HUMAN SEASONS\\nFouK Seasons fill the measure of the year\\nThere are four seasons in the mind of man\\nHe has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear\\nTakes in all beauty with an easy span\\nHe has his Summer, when luxuriously\\nSpring s honied cud of youthful thought he loves\\nTo ruminate, and by such dreaming high\\nIs nearest unto heaven quiet coves\\nHis soul has in its Autumn, when his wings\\nHe f urleth close contented so to look\\nOn mists in idleness to let fair things\\nPass by unheeded as a threshold brook.\\nHe has his Winter too of pale misfeature.\\nOr else he would forego his mortal nature.\\nI", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "ENDYMION: PREFACE 77\\nENDYMION\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2The stretched metre of an antique song.\\nShakspeare s Sonnets.\\nINSCRIBED\\nWITH EVERY FEELING OF PRIDE AND REGRET\\nAND WITH A BOWED MIND*\\nTO THE MEMORY OF\\nTHE MOST ENGLISH OF POETS EXCEPT SHAKSPEARE,\\nTHOMAS CHATTERTON\\nPREFACE\\nKnowing within myself the manner in which this\\nPoem has been produced, it is not without a feeling\\nof regret that I make it public.\\nWhat manner I mean, will be quite clear to the\\nreader, who must soon perceive great inexperience,\\nimmaturity, and every error denoting a feverish at-\\ntempt, rather than a deed accomplished. The two\\nfirst books, and indeed the two last, I feel sensible\\nare not of such completion as to warrant their pass-\\ning the press nor should they if I thought a year s\\ncastigation would do them any good it will not\\nthe foundations are too sandy. It is 3 ust that this\\nyoungster should die away a sad thought for me,\\nif I had not some hope that while it is dwindling I\\nmay be plotting, and fitting myself for verses fit to\\nlive.\\nThis may be speaking too presumptuously, and\\nmay deserve a punishment but no feeling man will\\nbe forward to inflict it he will leave me alone, with\\nthe conviction that there is not a fiercer hell than\\nthe failure in a great object. This is not written\\nwith the least atom of purpose to forestall criticisms\\nof course, but from the desire I have to conciliate\\nmen who are competent to look, and who do look", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "78 ENDYMION\\nwith a zealous eye, to the honour of English litera-\\nture.\\nThe imagination of a boy is healthy, and the ma-\\nture imagination of a man is healthy but there is a\\nspace of life between, in which the soul is in a fer-\\nment, the character undecided, the way of life un-\\ncertain, the ambition thick-sighted thence proceeds\\nmawkishness, and all the thousand bitters which\\nthose men I speak of must necessarily taste in going\\nover the following pages.\\nI hope I have not in too late a day touched the\\nbeautiful mythology of Greece, and dulled its bright-\\nness for I wish to try once more, before I bid it\\nfarewell.\\nTeignmouth,\\nApril 10, 1818.\\nBOOK I\\nA THING of beauty is a joy for ever:\\nIts loveliness increases it will never\\nPass into nothingness but still will keep\\nA bower quiet for us, and a sleep\\nFull of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breath-\\ning.\\nTherefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing\\nA flowery band to bind us to the earth,\\nSpite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth\\nOf noble natures, of the gloomy days,\\nOf all the unhealthy and o cr-darkcn d ways lo\\nMade for our searching yes, in spite of all,\\nSome shape of beauty moves away the pall\\nFrom our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,\\nTrees old and young, sprouting a shady boon\\nFor simple sheep and such are daffodils\\nWith the green world they live in and clear rills\\nThat for themselves a cooling covert make\\nGainst the hot season the mid- forest brake,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 79\\nRich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms\\nAnd such too is the grandeur of the dooms 20\\nWe have imagined for the mighty dead\\nAll lovely tales that we have heard or read\\nAn endless fountain of immortal drink,\\nPouring unto us from the heaven s brink.\\nNor do we merely feel these essences\\nFor one short hour no, even as the trees\\nThat whisper round a temple become soon\\nDear as the temple s self, so does the moon,\\nThe passion poesy, glories infinite.\\nHaunt us till they become a cheering light 30\\nUnto our souls, and bound to us so fast,\\nThat, whether there be shine, or gloom o ercast.\\nThey alway must be with us, or we die.\\nTherefore t is with full happiness that I\\nWill trace the story of Endymion.\\nThe very music of the name has gone\\nInto my being, and each pleasant scene\\nIs growing fresh before me as the green\\nOf our own valleys so I will begin\\nNow while I cannot hear the city s din 40\\nNow while the early budders are just new,\\nAnd run in mazes of the youngest hue\\nAbout old forests while the willow trails\\nIts delicate amber and the dairy pails\\nBring home increase of milk. And, as the year\\nGrows lush in j uicy stalks, I 11 smoothly steer\\nMy little boat, for many quiet hours.\\nWith streams that deepen freslily into bowers.\\nMany and many a verse I hope to write,\\nBefore the daisies, vermeil rimni d and white, 50\\nHide in deep herbage and ere yet the bees\\nHum about globes of clover and sweet peas,\\nI must be near the middle of my story.\\nO may no wintry season, bare, and hoary.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "8o ENDYMION\\nSee it half -finish d but let Autuma bold.\\nWith universal tinge of sober gold,\\nBe all about me when I make an end.\\nAnd now at once, adventuresome, I send\\nMy herald thought into a wilderness\\nThere let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress 60\\nMy uncertain path with green, that I may speed\\nEasily onward, thorough flowers and weed.\\nUpon the sides of Latmos was outspread\\nA mighty forest for the moist earth fed\\nSo plenteously all weed-hidden roots\\nInto o erhanging boughs, and precious fruits.\\nAnd it had gloomy shades, sequestered deep,\\nWhere no man went and if from shepherd s keep\\nA lamb stray d far a-down those inmost glens,\\nNever again saw he the happy pens 70\\nWhither his brethren, bleating with content,\\nOver the hills at every nightfall went.\\nAmong the shepherds, t was believed ever,\\nThat not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever\\nFrom the white flock, but pass d unworried\\nBy angry wolf, or pard with prying head.\\nUntil it came to some unfooted plains\\nWhere fed the herds of Pan aye great his gains\\nWho thus one lamb did lose. Paths there were\\nmany,\\nWinding through palmy fern, and rushes fenny, 80\\nAnd ivy banks all leading pleasantly\\nTo a wide lawn, whence one could only see\\nStems thronging all around between the swell\\nOf turf and slanting branches: who could tell\\nThe freshness of the space of heaven above.\\nEdged round with dark tree-tops through which a\\ndove\\nWould often beat its wings, and often too\\nA little cloud would move across the blue.\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 8i\\nFull in the middle of this pleasantness\\nThere stood a marble altar, with a tress 90\\nOf flowers budded newly and the dew\\nHad taken fairy phantasies to strew\\nDaisies upon the sacred sward last eve,\\nAnd so the dawned light in pomp receive.\\nFor t was the morn: Apollo s upward fire\\nMade every eastern cloud a silvery pyre\\nOf brightness so unsullied, that therein\\nA melancholy spirit well might win\\nOblivion, and melt out his essence fine\\nInto the winds: rain-scented eglantine 100\\nGave temperate sweets to that well Avooing sun\\nThe lark was lost in him cold springs had run\\nTo warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass\\nMan s voice was on the mountains and the mass\\nOf nature s lives and wonders pulsed tenfold,\\nTo feel this sun-rise and its glories old.\\nNow while the silent workings of the dawn\\nWere busiest, into that self-same lawn\\nAll suddenly, with joyful cries, there sped\\nA troop of little children garlanded no\\nWho gathering round the altar seem d to pry\\nEarnestly round as wishing to espy\\nSome folk of holiday nor had they waited\\nFor many moments, ere their ears were sated\\nWith a faint breath of music, which ev n then\\nFill d out its voice, and died away again.\\nWithin a little space again it gave\\nIts airy swellings, with a gentle wave,\\nTo light-hung leaves, in smoothest echoes breaking\\nThrough copse-clad valleys, ere their death, o er-\\ntaking 120\\nThe surgy murmurs of the lonely sea.\\nAnd now, as deep into the wood as we\\nMight mark a lynx s eye, there glimmer d light\\nFair faces and a rush of garments white,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "82 ENDYMION\\nPlainer and plainer showing, till at last\\nInto the widest alley they all past,\\nMaking directly for the woodland altar.\\nO kindly muse let not my weak tongue faulter\\nIn telling of this goodly company,\\nOf their old piety, and of their glee 130\\nBut let a portion of ethereal dew\\nFall on my head, and presently unmew\\nMy soul that I may dare, in wayfaring,\\nTo stammer where old Chaucer used to sing.\\nLeading the way, young damsels danced along,\\nBearing the burden of a shepherd song\\nEach having a white wicker, overbrimm d\\nWith April s tender younglings next, well trimm d,\\nA crowd of shepherds with as sunburnt looks\\nAs may be read of in Arcadian books 140\\nSuch as sat listening round Apollo s pipe,\\nWhen the great deity, for earth too ripe,\\nLet his divinity o erflowing die\\nIn music, through the vales of Thessaly\\nSome idly trail d their sheep-hooks on the ground.\\nAnd some kept up a shrilly mcillow sound\\nWith ebon-tipped flutes close after these,\\nNow coming from beneath the forest trees,\\nA venerable priest full soberly,\\nBegirt with minist ring looks alway his eye 150\\nSteadfast upon the matted turf he kept.\\nAnd after him his sacred vestments swept.\\nFrom his right hand there swung a vase, milk-\\nwhite.\\nOf mingled wine, out-sparkling generous light\\nAnd in his left he held a basket full\\nOf all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull\\nWild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still\\nThan Leda s love, and cresses from the rill.\\nHis aged head, crowned with beechen wreath,\\nSeem d like a poll of ivy in the teeth 160", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 83\\nOf winter hoar. Then came another crowd\\nOf shepherds, lifting in due time aloud\\nTheir share of the ditty. After them appear d,\\nUp-follow d by a multitude that rear d\\nTheir voices to the clouds, a fair-wrought car,\\nEasily rolling so as scarce to mar\\nThe freedom of three steeds of dapple brown\\nWho stood therein did seem of great renown\\nAmong the throng. His youth was fully blown,\\nShowing like Ganymede to manhood grown 170\\nAnd, for those simple times, his garments were\\nA chieftain king s beneath his breast, half bare,\\nWas hung a silver bugle, and between\\nHis nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen.\\nA smile was on his countenance he seem d\\nTo common lookers-on, like one who dream d\\nOf idleness in groves Elysian\\nBut there were some who feelingly could scan\\nA lurking trouble in his nether lip.\\nAnd see that oftentimes the reins would slip 180\\nThrough his forgotten hands: then would they\\nsigh,\\nAnd think of yellow leaves, of owlets cry,\\nOf logs piled solemnly. Ah, well-a-day.\\nWhy should our young Endymion pine away\\nSoon the assembly, in a circle ranged,\\nStood silent round the shrine each look was changed\\nTo sudden veneration women meek\\nBeckon d their sons to silence while each cheek\\nOf virgin bloom paled gently for slight fear.\\nEndymion too, without a forest peer, 190\\nStood, wan, and pale, and with an awed face.\\nAmong his brothers of the mountain chase.\\nIn midst of all, the venerable priest\\nEyed them with joy from greatest to the least.\\nAnd, after lifting up his aged hands,\\nThus spake he Men of Latmos shepherd bands", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "84 ENDYMION\\nWhose care it is to guard a thousand flocks:\\nWhether descended from beneath the rocks\\nThat overtop your mountains whether come\\nFrom valleys where the pipe is never dumb 200\\nOr from your swelling downs, where sweet air stirs\\nBlue harebells lightly, and where prickly furze\\nBuds lavish gold or ye, whose precious charge\\nNibble their fill at ocean s very marge,\\nWhose mellow reeds are touch d with sounds for-\\nlorn\\nBy the dim echoes of old Triton s horn\\nMothers and wives who day by day prepare\\nThe scrip, with needments, for the mountain air\\nAnd all ye gentle girls who fostel- up\\nUdderless lambs, and in a little cup 210\\nWill put choice honey for a favour d youth\\nYea, every one attend for in good truth\\nOur vows are wanting to our great god Pan.\\nAre not our lowing heifers sleeker than\\nNight-swollen mushrooms Are not our wide plains\\nSpeckled with countless fleeces Have not rains\\nGreen d over April s lap No howling sad\\nSickens our fearful ewes and we have had\\nGreat bounty from Endymion our lord.\\nThe earth is glad the merry lark has pour d 220\\nHis early song against yon breezy sky,\\nThat spreads so clear o er our solemnity.\\nThus ending, on the shrine he heap d a spire\\nOf teeming sweets, enkindling sacred fire\\nAnon he stain d the thick and spongy sod\\nWith wine, in honour of the shepherd-god.\\nNow while the earth was drinking it, and while\\nBay leaves v/ere crackling in the fragrant pile.\\nAnd gummy frankincense was sparkling bright\\nNeath smothering parsley, and a hazy light 230\\nSpread grayly eastward, thus a chorus sang", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 85\\nO thou, whose mighty palace roof doth hang\\nFrom jagged trunks, and overshadoweth\\nEternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death,\\nOf unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness\\nWho lov st to see the hamadryads dress\\nTheir ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken\\nAnd through whole solemn hours dost sit, and\\nhearken\\nThe dreary melody of bedded reeds\\nIn desolate places, where dank moisture breeds 240\\nThe pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth\\nBethinking thee, how melancholy loth\\nThou wast to lose fair Syrinx do thou now,\\nBy thy love s milky brow\\nBy all the trembling mazes that she ran,\\nHear us, great Pan\\nO thou, for whose soul-soothing quiet, turtles\\nPassion their voices cooingly mong myrtles,\\nWhat time thou wanderest at eventide\\nThrough sunny meadows, that outskirt the side 250\\nOf thine enmossed realms O thou, to whom\\nBroad-leaved fig-trees even now foredoom\\nTheir ripen d fruitage yellow-girted bees\\nTheir golden honeycombs our village leas\\nTheir fairest blossom d beans and poppied corn\\nThe chuckling linnet its five young unborn.\\nTo sing for thee low-creeping strawberries\\nTheir summer coolness pent-up butterflies\\nTheir freckled wings yea, the fresh budding year\\nAll its completions be quickly near, 260\\nBy every wind that nods the mountain pine,\\nO forester divine\\nThou, to whom every faun and satyr flies\\nFor willing service whether to surprise\\nThe squatted hare while in half-sleeping fit\\nOr upward ragged precipices flit", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "86 ENDYMION\\nTo save poor lambkins from the eagle s maw\\nOr by mysterious enticement draw\\nBewilder d shepherds to their path again\\nOr to tread breathless round the frothy main, 270\\nAnd gather up all fancifullest shells\\nFor thee to tumble into Naiads cells,\\nAnd, being hidden, laugh at their out-peeping\\nOr to delight thee with fantastic leaping,\\nThe while they pelt each other on the crown\\nWith silvery oak-apples, and fir-cones brown\\nBy all the echoes that about thee ring,\\nHear us, O satyr king\\nO Hearkener to the loud-clapping shears,\\nWhile ever and anon to his shorn peers 280\\nA ram goes bleating Winder of the horn,\\nWhen snouted wild-boars routing tender corn\\nAnger our huntsman Breather round our farms,\\nTo keep off mildews, and all weather harms\\nStrange ministrant of undescribed sounds,\\nThat come a-swo6ning over hollow grounds,\\nAnd wither drearily on barren moors\\nDread opener of the mysterious doors\\nLeading to universal knowledge see.\\nGreat son of Dryope, 290\\nThe many that are come to pay their vows\\nWith leaves about their brows\\nBe still the unimaginable lodge\\nFor solitary thinkings such as dodge\\nConception to the very bourne of heaven.\\nThen leave the naked brain be still the leaven.\\nThat spreading in this dull and clodded earth\\nGives it a touch ethereal a new birth\\nBe still a symbol of immensity\\nA firmament reflected in a sea 300\\nAn element filling the space between\\nAn unknown but no more we humbly screen", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST S7\\nWith uplift hands our foreheads, lowly bending,\\nAnd giving out a shout most heaven-rending,\\nConj ure thee to receive our humble Paean,\\nUpon thy Mount Lycean\\nEven while they brought the burden to a close,\\nA shout from the whole multitude arose,\\nThat linger d in the air like dying rolls\\nOf abrupt thunder, when Ionian shoals 310\\nOf dolphins bob their noses through the brine.\\nMeantime, on shady levels, mossy fine,\\nYoung companies nimbly began dancing\\nTo the swift treble pipe, and humming string.\\nAye, those fair living forms swam heavenly\\nTo tunes forgotten out of memory\\nFair creatures whose young children s children bred\\nThermopylae its heroes not yet dead.\\nBut in old marbles ever beautiful.\\nHigh genitors, unconscious did they cull 320\\nTime s sweet first-fruits they danced to weari-\\nness.\\nAnd then in quiet circles did they press\\nThe hillock turf, and caught the latter end\\nOf some strange history, potent to send\\nA young mind from its bodily tenement.\\nOr they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent\\nOn either side pitying the sad death\\nOf Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath\\nOf Zephyr slew him, Zephyr penitent,\\nWho now, ere Phoebus mounts the firmament, 330\\nFondles the flower amid the sobbing rain.\\nThe archers too, upon a wider plain,\\nBeside the feathery whizzing of the shaft.\\nAnd the dull twanging bowstring, and the raft\\nBranch down sweeping from a tall ash top\\nCall d up a thousand thoughts to envelope\\nThose who would watch. Perhaps, the trembling\\nknee", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "88 ENDYMION\\nAnd frantic gape of lonely Niobe,\\nPoor, lonely Niobe when her lovely young\\nWere dead and gone, and her caressing tongue 340\\nLay a lost thing upon her paly lip,\\nAnd very, very deadliness did nip\\nHer motherly cheeks. Aroused from this sad\\nmood\\nBy one, who at a distance loud halloo d,\\nUplifting his strong bow into the air,\\nMany might after brighter visions stare\\nAfter the Argonauts, in blind amaze\\nTossing about on Neptune s restless ways.\\nUntil, from the horizon s vaulted side.\\nThere shot a golden splendour far and wide, 350\\nSpangling those million poutings of the brine\\nWith quivering ore t was even an awful shine\\nFrom the exaltation of Apollo s bow\\nA heavenly beacon in their dreary woe.\\nWho thus were ripe for high contemplating,\\nMight turn their steps towards the sober ring\\nWhere sat Endymion and the aged priest\\nMong shepherds gone in eld, whose looks increased\\nThe silvery setting of their mortal star.\\nThere they discoursed upon the fragile bar 360\\nThat keeps us from our homes ethereal\\nAnd what our duties there to nightly call\\nVesper, the beauty -crest of summer weather\\nTo summon all the downiest clouds together\\nFor the sun s purple couch to emulate\\nIn minist ring the potent rule of fate\\nWith speed of fire-tail d exhalations\\nTo tint her pallid cheek with bloom, who cons\\nSweet poesy by moonlight besides these,\\nA world of other unguess d offices. 370\\nAnon they wander d, by divine converse,\\nInto Elysium vying to rehearse\\nEach one his own anticipated bliss.\\nOne felt heart-certain that he could not miss", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 89\\nHis quick-gone love, among fair blossom d boughs,\\nWhere every zephyr-sigh pouts, and endows\\nHer lips with music for the welcoming.\\nAnother wish d, mid that eternal spring,\\nTo meet his rosy child, with feathery sails,\\nSweeping, eye-earnestly, through almond vales: 380\\nWho, suddenly, should stoop through the smooth\\nwind,\\nAnd with the balmiest leaves his temples bind\\nAnd, ever after, through those regions be\\nHis messenger, his little Mercury.\\nSome were athirst in soul to see again\\nTheir fellow-huntsmen o er the wide champaign\\nIn times long past to sit with them, and talk\\nOf all the chances in their earthly walk\\nComparing, joyfully, their plenteous stores\\nOf happiness, to when upon the moors, 390\\nBenighted, close they huddled from the cold.\\nAnd shared their famish d scrips. Thus all out-\\ntold\\nTheir fond imaginations, saving him\\nWhose eyelids curtain d up their jewels dim,\\nEndymion yet hourly had he striven\\nTo hide the cankering venom, that had riven\\nHis fainting recollections. Now indeed\\nHis senses had swoon d off he did not heed\\nThe sudden silence, or the whispers low,\\nOr the old eyes dissolving at his woe, 400\\nOr anxious calls, or close of trembling palms,\\nOr maiden s sigh, that grief itself embalms\\nBut in the self-same fixed trance he kept,\\nLike one who on the earth had never stept.\\nAye, even as dead-still as a marble man,\\nFrozen in that old tale Arabian.\\nWho whispers him so pantingly and close\\nPeona, his sweet sister of all those.\\nHis friends, the dearest. Hushing signs she made.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "90 ENDYMION\\nAnd breathed a sister s sorrow to persuade 410\\nA yielding up, a cradling on her care.\\nHer eloquence did breathe away the curse\\nShe led him, like some midnight spirit nurse\\nOf happy changes in emphatic dreams.\\nAlong a path between two little streams,\\nGuarding his forehead, with her round elbow,\\nFrom low-grown branches, and his footsteps slow\\nFrom stumbling over stumps and hillocks small\\nUntil they came to where these streamlets fall,\\nWith mingled bubblings and a gentle rush, 420\\nInto a river, clear, brimful, and flush\\nWith crystal mocking of the trees and sky.\\nA little shallop, floating there hard by,\\nPointed its beak over the fringed bank\\nAnd soon it lightly dipt, and rose, and sank,\\nAnd dipt again, with the young couple s weight,\\nPeona guiding, through the water straight,\\nTowards a bowery island opposite\\nWhich gaining presently, she steered light\\nInto a shady, fresh, and ripply cove, 430\\nWhere nested was an arbour, overwove\\nBy many a summer s silent fingering\\nTo whose cool bosom she was used to bring\\nHer playmates, with their needle broidery,\\nAnd minstrel memories of times gone by.\\nSo she was gently glad to see him laid\\nUnder her favourite bower s quiet shade\\nOn her own couch, new made of flower leaves,\\nDried carefully on the cooler side of sheaves\\nWhen last the sun his autumn tresses shook, 440\\nAnd the tanu d harvesters rich armfuls took.\\nSoon was he quieted to slumbrous rest\\nBut, ere it crept upon him, he had prest\\nPeona s busy hand against his lips.\\nAnd still, a-sleeping, held her finger-tips\\nIn tender pressure. And as a willow keeps", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 91\\nA patient watch over the stream that creeps\\nWindingly by it, so the quiet maid\\nHeld her in peace so that a whispering blade\\nOf grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling 450\\nDown in the bluebells, or a wren light rustling\\nAmong sere leaves and twigs, might all be heard.\\nO magic sleep O comfortable bird.\\nThat brood est o er the troubled sea of the mind\\nTill it is hush d and smooth O unconfined\\nRestraint imprison d liberty great key\\nTo golden palaces, strange minstrelsy,\\nFountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves,\\nEchoing grottoes, full of tumbling waves\\nAnd moonlight aye, to all the mazy world 460\\nOf silvery enchantment who, upfurl d\\nBeneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour.\\nBut renovates and lives Thus, in the bower,\\nEndymion was calm d to life again.\\nOpening his eyelids with a healthier brain.\\nHe said I feel this thine endearing love\\nAll through my bosom thou art as a dove\\nTrembling its closed eyes and sleeked wings\\nAbout me and the pearliest dew not brings\\nSuch morning incense from the fields of May, 470\\nAs do those brighter drops that twinkling stray\\nFrom those kind eyes, the very home and haunt\\nOf sisterly affection. Can I want\\nAught else, aught nearer heaven, than such tears\\nYet dry them up, in bidding hence all fears\\nThat, any longer, I will pass my days\\nAlone and sad. No, I will once more raise\\nMy voice upon the mountain-heights once more\\nMake my horn parley from their foreheads hoar 479\\nAgain my trooping hounds their tongues shall loll\\nAround the breathed boar again I 11 poll\\nThe fair-grown yew-tree, for a chosen bow\\nAnd, when the pleasant sun is getting low.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "92 ENDYMION\\nAgain I 11 linger in a sloping mead\\nTo tiear the speckled thrushes, and see feed\\nOur idle sheep. So be thou cheered, sweet\\nAnd, if thy lute is here, softly intreat\\nMy soul to keep in its resolved course.*\\nHereat Peona, in their silver source,\\nShut her piu-e sorrow-drops with glad exclaim, 490\\nAnd took a lute, from which there pulsing came\\nA lively prelude, fashioning the way\\nIn which her voice should wander. T was a lay\\nMore subtle cadenced, more forest wild\\nThan Dryope s lone lulling of her child\\nAnd nothing since has floated in the air\\nSo mournful strange. Surely some influence rare\\nWent, spiritual, through the damsel s hand\\nFor still, with Delphic emphasis, she spann d 499\\nThe quick invisible strings, even though she saw\\nEndymion s spirit melt away and thaw\\nBefore the deep intoxication.\\nBut soon she came, with sudden burst, upon\\nHer self-possession swung the lute aside.\\nAnd earnestly said: Brother, tis vain to hide\\nThat thou dost know of things mysterious.\\nImmortal, starry such alone could thus\\nWeigh down thy nature. Hast thou sinn d in aught\\nOffensive to the heavenly powers Caught\\nA Paphian dove upon a message sent 510\\nThy deathf ul bow against some deer-herd bent,\\nSacred to Dian Haply, thou hast seen\\nHer naked limbs among the alders green\\nAnd that, alas is death No, I can trace\\nSomething more high perplexing in thy face\\nEndymion look d at her, and press d her hand.\\nAnd said, Art thou so pale, who wast so bland\\nAnd merry in our meadows How is this\\nTell me thine ailment tell me all amiss", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 93\\nAh thou hast been unhappy at the change 520\\nWrought suddenly in me. What indeed more\\nstrange\\nOr more complete to overwhelm surmise\\nAmbition is no sluggard tis no prize,\\nThat toiling years would put within my grasp,\\nThat I have sigh d for with so deadly gasp\\nNo man e er panted for a mortal love.\\nSo all have set my heavier grief above\\nThese things which happen. Rightly have they\\ndone\\nI, who still saw the horizontal sun\\nHeave his broad shoulder o er the edge of the\\nworld, 530\\nOut-facing Lucifer, and then had hurl d\\nMy spear aloft, as signal for the chase\\nI, who, for very sport of heart, would race\\nWith my own steed from Araby pluck down\\nA vulture from his towery perching frown\\nA lion into growling, loth retire\\nTo lose, at once, all my toil-breeding fire,\\nAnd sink thus low but I will ease my breast\\nOf secret grief, here in this bowery nest.\\nThis river does not see the naked sky, 540\\nTill it begins to progress silverly\\nAround the western border of the wood.\\nWhence, from a certain spot, its winding flood\\nSeems at the distance like a crescent moon\\nAnd in that nook, the very pride of June,\\nHad I been used to pass my weary eves\\nThe rather for the sun unwilling leaves\\nSo dear a picture of his sovereign power,\\nAnd I could witness his most kingly hour.\\nWhen he doth tighten up the golden reins, 550\\nAnd paces leisurely down amber plains\\nHis snorting four. Now when his chariot last\\nIts beams against the zodiac-lion cast,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "94 ENDYMION\\nThere blossom d suddenly a magic bed\\nOf sacred ditamy, and poppies red\\nAt which I wondered greatly, knowing well\\nThat but one night had wrought this flowery spell\\nAnd, sitting down close by, began to muse\\nWhat it might mean. Perhaps, thought I, Mor-\\npheus,\\nIn passing here, his owlet pinions shook 560\\nOr, it may be, ere matron Night uptook\\nHer ebon urn, young Mercury, by stealth.\\nHad dipt his rod in it such garland wealth\\nCame not by common growth. Thus on I thought,\\nUntil my head was dizzy and distraught.\\nMoreover, through the dancing poppies stole\\nA breeze, most softly lulling to my soul\\nAnd shaping visions all about my sight\\nOf colours, wings, and bursts of spangly light\\nThe which became more strange, and strange, and\\ndim, 570\\nAnd then were gulf d in a tumultuous swim\\nAnd then I fell asleep. Ah, can I tell\\nThe enchantment that afterwards befell\\nYet it was but a dream yet such a dream\\nThat never tongue, although it overteem\\nWith mellow utterance, like a cavern spring,\\nCould figure out and to conception bring\\nAll I beheld and felt. Methought I lay\\nWatching the zenith, where the milky way\\nAmong the stars in virgin splendour pours 580\\nAnd travelling my eye, until the doors\\nOf heaven appear d to open for my flight,\\nI became loth and fearful to alight\\nFrom such high soaring by a downward glance:\\nSo kept me steadfast in that airy trance.\\nSpreading imaginary pinions wide.\\nWhen, presently, the stars began to glide,\\nAnd faint away, before my eager view:\\nAt which I sigh d that I could not pursue,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 95\\nAnd dropt my vision to the horizon s verge 590\\nAnd lo from opening clouds, I saw emerge\\nThe loveliest moon, that ever silver d o er\\nA shell for Neptune s goblet she did soar\\nSo passionately bright, my dazzled soul\\nCommingling with her argent spheres did roll\\nThrough clear and cloudy, even when she went\\nAt last into a dark and vapoury tent\\nWhereat, methought, the lidless-eyed train\\nOf planets all were in the blue again.\\nTo commune with those orbs, once more I raised 600\\nMy sight right upward but it was quite dazed\\nBy a bright something, sailing down apace,\\nMaking me quickly veil my eyes and face\\nAgain I look d, and, O ye deities.\\nWho from Olympus watch our destinies\\nWhence that completed form of all completeness\\nWhence came that high perfection of all sweetness\\nSpeak, stubborn earth, and tell me where, O where\\nHast thou a symbol of her golden hair\\nNot oat-sheaves drooping in the western sun 610\\nNot thy soft hand, fair sister let me shun\\nSuch foUying before thee yet she had,\\nIndeed, locks bright enough to make me mad\\nAnd they were simply gordian d up and braided.\\nLeaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded,\\nHer pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow\\nThe which were blended in, I know not how,\\nWith such a paradise of lips and eyes,\\nBlush-tinted cheeks, half-smiles, and faintest sighs.\\nThat, when I think thereon, my spirit clings 620\\nAnd plays about its fancy, till the stings\\nOf human neighbourhood envenom all.\\nUnto what awful power shall I call\\nTo what high fane Ah see her hovering feet.\\nMore bluely vein d, more soft, more whitely sweet\\nThan those of sea-born Venus, when she rose\\nFrom out her cradle shell. The wind out-blows", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "96 ENDYMION\\nHer scarf into a fluttering pavilion\\nT is blue, and over-spangled with a million\\nOf little eyes, as though thou wert to shed 630\\nOver the darkest, lushest bluebell bed,\\nHandfuls of daisies. Endymion, how strange\\nDream within dream She took an airy range,\\nAnd then, towards me, like a very maid,\\nCame blushing, waning, willing, and afraid.\\nAnd press d me by the hand Ah t was too much\\nMethought I fainted at the charaied touch,\\nYet held my recollection, even as one\\nWho dives three fathoms where the waters run\\nGurgling in beds of coral for anon, 640\\nI felt upmounted in that region\\nWhere falling stars dart their artillery forth,\\nAnd eagles struggle with the buffeting north\\nThat balances the heavy meteor-stone\\nFelt too, I was not fearful, nor alone,\\nBut lapp d and lull d along the dangerous sky.\\nSoon, as it seem d, we left our journeying high,\\nAnd straightway into frightful eddies swoop d\\nSuch as ay muster where gray time has scoop d\\nHuge dens and caverns in a mountain s side 650\\nThere hollow sounds aroused me, and I sigh d\\nTo faint once more by looking on my bliss\\nI was distracted madly did I kiss\\nThe wooing arms which held me, and did give\\nMy eyes at once to death but t was to live.\\nTo take in draughts of life from the gold fount\\nOf kind and passionate looks to count, and count\\nThe moments, by some greedy help that seem d\\nA second self, that each might be redeem d\\nAnd plunder d of its load of blessedness. 660\\nAh, desperate mortal I ev n dared to press\\nHer very cheek against my crowned lip,\\nAnd, at that moment, felt my body dip\\nInto a warmer air a moment more,\\nOur feet were soft in flowers. There was store", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 97\\nOf newest joys upon that alp. Sometimes\\nA scent of violets, and blossoming limes,\\nLoiter d around us then of honey cells,\\nMade delicate from all white-flower bells\\nAnd once, above the edges of our nest, 670\\nAn arch face peep d, an Oread as I guess d.\\nWhy did I dream that sleep o erpower d me\\nIn midst of all this heaven Why not see.\\nFar off, the shadows of his pinions dark,\\nAnd stare them from me But no, like a spark\\nThat needs must die, although its little beam\\nReflects upon a diamond, my sweet dream\\nFell into nothing into stupid sleep.\\nAnd so it was, until a gentle creep,\\nA careful moving caught my waking ears, 680\\nAnd up I started Ah my sighs, my tears.\\nMy clenched hands for lo the poppies hung\\nDew-dabbled on their stalks, the ouzel sung\\nA heavy ditty, and the sullen day\\nHad chidden herald Hesperus away,\\nWith leaden looks the solitary breeze\\nBluster d, and slept, and its wild self did tease\\nWith wayward melancholy and I thought,\\nMark me, Peona that sometimes it brought 689\\nFaint fare- thee- wells, and sigh-shrillcd adieus\\nAway I wander d all the pleasant hues\\nOf heaven and earth had faded deepest shades\\nWere deepest dungeons heaths and sunny glades\\nWere full of pestilent light our taintless rills\\nSeem d sooty, and o erspread with upturn d gills\\nOf dying fish the vermeil rose had blown\\nIn frightful scarlet, and its thorns outgrown\\nLike spiked aloe. If an innocent bird\\nBefore my heedless footsteps stirr d, and stirr d\\nIn little journeys, I beheld in it 700\\nA disguised demon, missioned to knit", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "98 ENDYMION\\nMy soul with under darkness to entice\\nMy stumblings down some monstrous precipice\\nTherefore I eager follow d, and did curse\\nThe disappointment. Time, that aged nurse,\\nRock d me to patience. Now, thank gentle heaven\\nThese things, with all their comfortings, are given\\nTo my down-sunken hours, and with thee,\\nSweet sister, help to stem the ebbing sea\\nOf weary life.\\nThus ended he, and both 710\\nSat silent for the maid was very loth\\nTo answer feeling well that breathed words\\nWould all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords\\nAgainst the enchased crocodile, or leaps\\nOf grasshoppers against the sun. She weeps.\\nAnd wonders struggles to devise some blame\\nTo put on such a look as would say, Shame\\nOn this poor weakness but, for all her strife,\\nShe could as soon have crush d away the life 719\\nFrom a sick dove. At length, to break the pause,\\nShe said with trembling chance Is this the cause\\nThis all Yet it is strange, and sad, alas\\nThat one who through this middle earth should pass\\nMost like a sojourning demi-god, and leave\\nHis name upon the harp-string, should achieve\\nNo higher bard than simple maidenhood,\\nSinging alone, and fearfully, how the blood\\nLeft his young cheek and how he used to stray\\nHe knew not where and how he would say, nay,\\nIf any said t was love: and yet t was love 730\\nWhat could it be but love How a ringdove\\nLet fall a sprig of yew-tree in his path\\nAnd how he died and then, that love doth scathe\\nThe gentle heart, as northern blasts do roses\\nAnd then the ballad of his sad life closes\\nWith sighs, and an alas Endymion\\nBe rather in the trumpet s mouth, anon", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 99\\nAmong the winds at large that all may hearken\\nAlthough, before the crystal heavens darken,\\nI watch and dote upon the silver lakes 740\\nPictured in western cloudiness, that takes\\nThe semblance of gold rocks and bright gold sands,\\nIslands, and creeks, and amber-fretted strands\\nWith horses prancing o er them, palaces\\nAnd towers of amethyst, would I so tease\\nMy pleasant days, because I could not mount\\nInto those regions The Morphean fount\\nOf that fine element that visions, dreams,\\nAnd fitful whims of sleep are made of, streams\\nInto its airy channels with so subtle, 750\\nSo thin a breathing, not the spider s shuttle.\\nCircled a million times within the space\\nOf a swallow s nest-door, could delay a trace,\\nA tinting of its quality how light\\nMust dreams themselves be seeing they re more\\nslight\\nThan the mere nothing that engenders them\\nThen wherefore sully the entrusted gem\\nOf high and noble life with thoughts so sick\\nWhy pierce high-fronted honour to the quick\\nFor nothing but a dream Hereat the youth 760\\nLook d up a conflicting of shame and ruth\\nWas in his plaited brow yet his eyelids\\nWiden d a little, as when Zephyr bids\\nA little breeze to creep between the fans\\nOf careless butterflies amid his pains\\nHe seem d to taste a drop of manna-dew,\\nFull palatable and a colour grew\\nUpon his cheek, while thus he lifeful spake.\\nPeona ever have I long d to slake\\nMy thirst for the world s praises nothing base, 770\\nNo merely slumberous phantasm, could unlace\\nThe stubborn canvas for my voyage prepared\\nThough now t is tatter d leaving my bark bared", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "100 ENDYMION\\nAnd sullenly drifting yet my higher hope\\nIs of too wide, too rainbow-large a scope,\\nTo fret at myriads of earthly wrecks.\\nWherein lies happiness In that which becks\\nOur ready minds to fellowship divine,\\nA fellowship with essence till we shine,\\nFull alchemized, and free of space. Behold 780\\nThe clear religion of heaven Fold\\nA rose leaf round thy finger s taperness,\\nAnd soothe thy lips hist, when the airy stress\\nOf music s kiss impregnates the free winds.\\nAnd with a sympathetic touch unbinds\\n^olian magic from their lucid wombs\\nThen old songs waken from enclouded tombs\\nOld ditties sigh above their father s grave\\nGhosts of melodious prophesyings rave\\nRound every spot where trod Apollo s foot 790\\nBronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit.\\nWhere long ago a giant battle was\\nAnd, from the turf, a lullaby doth pass\\nIn every place where infant Orpheus slept.\\nFeel we these things that moment have we\\nstept\\nInto a sort of oneness, and our state\\nIs like a floating spirit s. But there are\\nRicher entanglements, enthralments far\\nMore self -destroying, leading, by degrees.\\nTo the chief intensity the crown of these 800\\nIs made of love and friendship, and sits high\\nUpon the forehead of humanity.\\nAll its more ponderous and bulky worth\\nIs friendship, whence there everissues forth\\nA steady splendour but at the tip-top,\\nThere hangs by unseen film, an orbed drop\\nOf light, and that is love its influence\\nThrown in our eyes genders a novel sense.\\nAt which we start and fret till in the end,\\nMelting into its radiance, we blend, 810", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST loi\\nMingle, and so become a part of it,\\nNor with aught else can our souls interknit\\nSo wingedly when we combine therewith,\\nLife s self is nourish d by its proper pith.\\nAnd we are nurtured like a pelican brood.\\nAye, so delicious is the unsating food.\\nThat men, who might have tower d in the van\\nOf all the congregated world, to fan\\nAnd winnow from the coming step of time\\nAll chaff of custom, wipe away all slime 820\\nLeft by men-slugs and human serpentry,\\nHave been content to let occasion die.\\nWhilst they did sleep in love s Elysium.\\nAnd, truly, I would rather be struck dumb.\\nThan speak against this ardent listlessness\\nFor I have ever thought that it might bless\\nThe world with benefits unknowingly\\nAs does the nightingale, up-perched high,\\nAnd cloister d among cool and bunched leaves\\nShe sings but to her love, nor e er conceives 830\\nHow tiptoe Night holds back her dark-gray hood.\\nJust so may love, although t is understood\\nThe mere commingling of passionate breath.\\nProduce more than our searching witnesseth\\nWhat I know not but who, of men, can tell\\nThat flowers would bloom, or that green fruit\\nwould swell\\nTo melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail,\\nThe earth its dower of river, wood, and vale.\\nThe meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones\\nThe seed its harvest, or the lute its tones, 840\\nTones ravishment, or ravishment its sweet.\\nIf human souls did never kiss and greet\\nNow, if this earthly love has power to make\\nMen s being mortal, immortal to shake\\nAmbition from their memories, and brim\\nTheir measure of content what merest whim,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "I02 ENDYMION\\nSeems all tliis poor endeavour after fame,\\nTo one, who keeps within his steadfast aim\\nA love immortal, an immortal too.\\nLook not so wilder d for these things are true 850\\nAnd never can be born of atomies\\nThat buzz about our slumbers, like brain-flies,\\nLeaving us fancy-sick, l^o, no, I m sure,\\nMy restless spirit never could endure\\nTo brood so long upon one luxury,\\nUnless it did, though fearfully, espy\\nA hope beyond the shadow of a dream, d]\\nMy sayings will the less obscured seem\\nWhen I have told thee how my waking sight\\nHas made me scruple whether that same night 860\\nWas pass d in dreaming. Hearken, sweet Peona\\nBeyond the matron-temple of Latona,\\nWhich we should see but for these darkening\\nboughs,\\nLies a deep hollow, from whose ragged brows\\nBushes and trees do lean all round athwart,\\nAnd meet so nearly, that with wings outraught,\\nAnd spreaded tail, a vulture could hot glide\\nPast them, but he must brush on every side.\\nSome moulder d steps lead into this cool cell,\\nFar as the slabbed margin of a well, 870\\nWhose patient level peeps its crystal eye\\nRight upward, through the bushes, to the sky.\\nOft have I brought thee flowers, on their stalks\\nset\\nLike vestal primroses, but dark velvet\\nEdges them round, and they have golden pits:\\nT was there I got them, from the gaps and slits\\nIn a mossy stone, that sometimes was my seat.\\nWhen all above was faint with mid-day heat.\\nAnd there in strife no burning thoughts to heed,\\nI d bubble up the water through a reed 880\\nSo reaching back to boyhood make me ships\\nOf moulted feathers, touchwood, alder chips,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 103\\nWith leaves stuck in them and the Neptune be\\nOf their petty ocean. Oftener, heavily,\\nWhen lovelorn hours had left me less a child,\\nI sat contemplating the figures wild\\nOf o erhead clouds melting the mirror through.\\nUpon a day, vs^hile thus I watch d, by fliew\\nA cloudy Cupid, with his bow and quiver\\nSo plainly character d, no breeze would shiver 890\\nThe happy chance so happy, I was fain\\nTo follow it upon the open plain,\\nAnd, therefore, was just going; when, behold!\\nA wonder, fair as any I have told\\nThe same bright face I tasted in my sleep,\\nSmiling in the clear well. My heart did leap\\nThrough the cool depth. It moved as if to flee\\nI started up, when lo refreshfully.\\nThere came upon my face, in plenteous showers,\\nDew-drops, and dewy buds, and leaves, and flowers.\\nWrapping all obj ects from my smother d sight, 901\\nBathing my spirit in a new delight.\\nAye, such a breathless honey-feel of bliss\\nAlone preserved me from the drear abyss\\nOf death, for the fair form had gone again.\\nPleasure is oft a visitant but pain\\nClings cruelly to us, like the gnawing sloth\\nOn the deer s tender haunches: late, and loth,\\nT is scared away by slow returning pleasure.\\nHow sickening, how dark the dreadful leisure 910\\nOf weary days, made deeper exquisite.\\nBy a foreknowledge of unslumbrous night\\nLike sorrow came upon me, heavier still,\\nThan when I wander d from the poppy hill\\nAnd a whole age of lingering moments crept\\nSluggishly by, ere more contentment swept\\nAway at once the deadly yellow spleen.\\nYes, thrice have I this fair enchantment seen\\nOnce more been tortured with renewed life.\\nWhen last the wintry gusts gave over strife 920", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "I04 ENDYMION\\nWith the conquering sun of spring, and left the\\nskies\\nWarm and serene, but yet with moisten d eyes\\nIn pity of the shatter d infant buds,\\nThat time thou didst adorn, with amber studs,\\nMy hunting cap, because I laugh d and smiled,\\nChatted with thee, and many days exiled\\nAll torment from my breast t was even then,\\nStraying about, yet coop d up in the den\\nOf helpless discontent, \u00e2\u0080\u0094hurling my lance\\nFrom place to place, and following at chance, 930\\nAt last, by hap, through some young trees it struck,\\nAnd, plashing among bedded pebbles, stuck\\nIn the middle of a brook, whose silver ramble\\nDown twenty little falls through reeds and bram-\\nble.\\nTracing- along, it brought me to a cave.\\nWhence it ran brightly forth, and white did lave\\nThe nether sides of mossy stones and rock,\\nMong which it gurgled blithe adieus, to mock\\nIts own sweet grief at parting. Overhead, 939\\nHung a lush screen of drooping weeds, and spread\\nThick, as to curtain up some wood-nymph s home.\\nAh impious mortal, whither do I roam\\nSaid I, low- voiced Ah, whither Tis the grot\\nOf Proserpine, when Hell, obscure and hot,\\nDoth her resign and where her tender hands\\nShe dabbles, on the cool and sluicy sands\\nOr t is the cell of Echo, where she sits.\\nAnd babbles thorough silence, till her wits\\nAre gone in tender madness, and anon.\\nFaints into sleep, with many a dying tone 950\\nOf sadness. O that she would take my vows,\\nAnd breathe them sighingly among the boughs,\\nTo sue her gentle ears for whose fair head.\\nDaily, I pluck sweet flowerets from their bed.\\nAnd weave them dyingly send honey-whispers\\nRound every leaf, that all those gentle lispera", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 105\\nMay sigh my love unto her pitying\\ncharitable Echo hear, and sing\\nThis ditty to her tell her So I stay d\\nMy foolish tongue, and listening, half afraid, 960\\nStood stupefied with my own empty folly,\\nAnd blushing for the freaks of melancholy.\\nSalt tears were coming, when I heard my name\\nMost fondly lipp d, and then these accents came\\nEndymion the cave is secreter\\nThan the isle of Delos. Echo hence shall stir\\nNo sighs but sigh-warm kisses, or light noise\\nOf thy combing hand, the while it travelling cloys\\nAnd trembles through my labyrinthine hair.\\nAt that oppress d, I hurried in. Ah where 970\\nAre those swift moments Whither are they fled\\n1 11 smile no more, Peona nor will wed\\nSorrow, the way to death but patiently\\nBear up against it so farewell, sad sigh\\nAnd come instead demurest meditation,\\nTo occupy me wholly, and to fashion\\nMy pilgrimage for the world s dusky brink,\\nKo more will I count over, link by link,\\nMy chain of grief no longer strive to find\\nA half-forgetfulness in mountain wind 980\\nBlustering about my ears aye, thou shalt see,\\nDearest of sisters, what my life shall be\\nWhat a calm round of hours shall make my days.\\nThere is a paly flame of hope that plays\\nWhere er I look but yet, I 11 say t is naught\\nAnd here I bid it die. Have not I caught.\\nAlready, a more healthy countenance\\nBy this the sun is setting we may chance\\nMeet some of our near-dwellers with my car.\\nThis said, he rose, faint-smiling like a star 990\\nThrough autumn mists, and took Peona s hand\\nThey stept into the boat, and launch d from land.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "io6 ENDYMION\\nBOOK II\\nO SOVEREIGN power of love O grief O balm\\nAll records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,\\nAnd shadowy, through the mist of passed years\\nFor others, good or bad, hatred and tears\\nHave become indolent but touching thine,\\nOne sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine.\\nOne kiss brings honey-dew from buried days.\\nThe woes of Troy, towers smothering o er their\\nblaze,\\nStiff -holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades,\\nStruggling, and blood, and shrieks all dimly\\nfades lo\\nInto some backward corner of the brain\\nYet, in our very souls, we feel amain\\nThe close of Troilus and Cressid sweet.\\nHence, pageant history hence, gilded cheat\\nSwart planet in the universe of deeds\\nWide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds\\nAlong the pebbled shore of memory\\nMany old rotten-timber d boats there be\\nUpon thy vaporous bosom, magnified\\nTo goodly vessels many a sail of pride, 20\\nAnd golden-keel d, is left unlaunch d and dry.\\nBut wherefore this What care, though owl did\\nfly\\nAbout the great Athenian admiral s mast\\nWhat care, though striding Alexander past\\nThe Indus with his Macedonian numbers\\nThough old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers\\nThe glutted Cyclops, what care Juliet leaning\\nAmid her window-flowers, sighing, weaning\\nTenderly her fancy from its maiden snow.\\nDoth more avail than these the silver flow 30\\nOf Hero s tears, the swoon of Imogen,\\nFair Pastorella in the bandit s den,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 107\\nAre things to brood on with more ardency\\nThan the death-day of empires. Fearfully\\nMust such conviction come upon his head,\\nWho, thus far, discontent, has dared to tread,\\nWithout one muse s smile, or kind behest,\\nThe path of love and poesy. But rest.\\nIn chafing restlessness, is yet more drear\\nThan to be crush d, in striving to uprear 40\\nLove s standard on the battlements of song.\\nSo once more days and nights aid me along.\\nLike legion d soldiers.\\nBrain-sick shepherd-prince,\\nWhat promise hast thou faithful guarded since\\nThe day of sacrifice Or, have new sorrows\\nCome with the constant dawn upon thy morrows\\nAlas t is his old grief. For many days.\\nHas he been wandering in uncertain ways\\nThrough wilderness, and woods of mossed oaks\\nCounting his woe-worn minutes, by the strokes 50\\nOf the lone wood-cutter and listening stiU,\\nHour after hour, to each lush-leaved rill.\\nNow he is sitting by a shady spring,\\nAnd elbow-deep with feverous fingering\\nStems the upbursting cold a wild rose tree\\nPavilions him in bloom, and he doth see\\nA bud which snares his fancy lo but now\\nHe plucks it, dips its stalk in the water how\\nIt swells, it buds, it flowers beneath his sight\\nAnd, in the middle, there is softly pight 60\\nA golden butterfly upon whose wings\\nThere must be surely character d strange things,\\nFor with wide eye he wonders, and smiles oft.\\nLightly this little herald flew aloft,\\nFollow d by glad Endymion s clasped hands\\nOnward it flies. From languor s sullen bands\\nHis limbs are loosed, and eager, on he hies", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "io8 ENDYMION\\nDazzled to trace it in the sunny skies.\\nIt seem d lie flew, the way so easy was\\nAnd like a new-born spirit did he pass ^o\\nThrough the green evening quiet in the sun,\\nO er many a heath, through many a woodland\\ndun,\\nThrough buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams\\nThe summer time away. One track unseams\\nA wooded cleft, and, far away, the blue\\nOf ocean fades upon him then, anew.\\nHe sinks adown a solitary glen,\\nWhere there was never sound of mortal men,\\nSaving, perhaps, some snow-light cadences\\nMelting to silence, when upon the breeze 80\\nSome holy bark let forth an anthem sweet,\\nTo cheer itself to Delphi. Still his feet\\nWent swift beneath the merry-winged guide.\\nUntil it reach d a splashing fountain s side\\nThat, near a cavern s mouth, for ever pour d\\nUnto the temperate air then high it soar d.\\nAnd, downward, suddenly began to dip,\\nAs if, athirst with so much toil, twould sip\\nThe crystal spout-head so it did, with touch\\nMost delicate, as though afraid to smutch, 90\\nEven with mealy gold, the waters clear.\\nBut, at that very touch, to disappear\\nSo fairy-quick, was strange Bewildered,\\nEndymion sought around, and shook each bed\\nOf covert flowers in vain and then he flung\\nHimself along the grass. What gentle tongue,\\nWhat whisperer, disturb d his gloomy rest\\nIt was a nymph uprisen to the breast\\nIn the fountain s pebbly margin, and she stood\\nMong lilies, like the youngest of the brood. 100\\nTo him her dripping hand she softly kist.\\nAnd anxiously began to plait and twist\\nHer ringlets round her lingers, saying Youth 1\\nToo long, alas, hast thou starved on the ruth,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 109\\nThe bitterness of love too long indeed,\\nSeeing thou art so gentle. Could I weed\\nThe soul of care, by heavens, I would offer\\nAll the bright riches of my crystal coffer,\\nTo Amphitrite all my clear-eyed fish,\\nGolden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, no\\nVermilion-tail d, or finn d with silvery gauze\\nYea, or my veined pebble-floor, that draws\\nA virgin light to the deep my grotto- sands,\\nTawny and gold, oozed slowly from far lands\\nBy my diligent springs my level lilies, shells,\\nMy charming rod, my potent river spells\\nYes, every thing, even to the pearly cup\\nMeander gave me, for I bubbled up\\nTo fainting creatures in a desert wild.\\nBut woe is me, I am but as a child 120\\nTo gladden thee and all I dare to say,\\nIs, that I pity thee that on this day\\nI ve been thy guide that thou must wander far\\nIn other regions, past the scanty bar\\nTo mortal steps, before thou canst be ta en\\nFrom every wasting sigh, from every pain,\\nInto the gentle bosom of thy love.\\nWhy it is thus, one knows in heaven above\\nBut, a poor Naiad, I guess not. Farewell\\nI have a ditty for my hollow cell. 130\\nHereat she vanish d from Endymion s gaze,\\nWho brooded o er the water in amaze\\nThe dashing fount pour d on, and where its pool\\nLay, half asleep, in grass and rushes cool,\\nQuick waterflies and gnats were sporting still,\\nAnd fish were dimpling, as if good nor ill\\nHad fallen out that hour. The wanderer,\\nHolding his forehead to keep off the burr\\nOf smothering fancies, patiently sat down\\nAnd, while beneath the evening s sleepy frown 140\\nGlowworms began to trim their starry lamps,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "no ENDYMION\\nThus breathed he to himself Whoso encamps\\nTo take a fancied city of delight,\\nwhat a wretch is he and when tis his,\\nAfter long toil and travelling, to miss\\nThe kernel of his hopes, how more than vile\\nYet, for him there s refreshment even in toil\\nAnother city doth he set about,\\nFree from the smallest pebble-bead of doubt\\nThat he will seize on trickling honey-combs 150\\nAlas, he finds them dry and then he foams,\\nAnd onward to another city speeds.\\nBut this is human life the war, the deeds.\\nThe disappointment, the anxiety.\\nImagination s struggles, far and nigh,\\nAll human bearing in themselves this good,\\nThat they are still the air, the subtle food.\\nTo make us feel existence, and to show\\nHow quiet death is. Where soil is, men grow.\\nWhether to weeds or flowers but for me, 160\\nThere is no depth to strike in I can see\\nNaught earthly worth my compassing so stand\\nUpon a misty, jutting head of land\\nAlone No, no and by the Orphean lute,\\nWhen mad Eurydice is listening to t,\\n1 d rather stand upon this misty peak.\\nWith not a thing to sigh for, or to seek,\\nBut the soft shadow of my thrice seen love,\\nThan be I care not what. O meekest dove 169\\nOf heaven O Cynthia, ten times bright and fair\\nFrom thy blue throne, now filling all the air.\\nGlance but one little beam of temper d light\\nInto my bosom, that the dreadful night\\nAnd tyranny of love be somewhat scared\\nYet do not so, sweet queen one torment spared,\\nWould give a pang to jealous misery.\\nWorse than the torment s self: but rather tie\\nLarge wings upon my shoulders, and point out\\nMy love s far dwelling. Though the playful rout", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND ill\\nOf Cupids shun thee, too divine art thou, i8o\\nToo keen in beauty, for thy silver prow\\nNot to have dipp d in love s most gentle stream.\\nO be propitious, nor severely deem\\nMy madness impious for, by all the stars\\nThat tend thy bidding, I do think the bars\\nThat kept my spirit in are burst that I\\nAm sailing vv^ith thee through the dizzy sky\\nHow beautiful thou art The world how deep\\nHow tremulous-dazzlingly the wheels sweep\\nAround their axle Then these gleaming reins, 190\\nHow lithe When this thy chariot attains\\nIts airy goal, haply some bower veils\\nThose twilight eyes Those eyes my spirit\\nfails\\nDear goddess, help or the wide gaping air\\nWill gulf me help At this, with madden d\\nstare.\\nAnd lifted hands, and trembling lips, he stood\\nLike old Deucalion mountain d o er the flood,\\nOr blind Orion hungry for the morn.\\nAnd, but from the deep cavern there was borne\\nA voice, he had been froze to senseless stone 200\\nNor sigh of his, nor plaint, nor passion d moan\\nHad more been heard. Thus swell d it forth De-\\nscend,\\nYoung mountaineer descend where alleys bend\\nInto the sparry hollows of the world\\nOft hast thou seen bolts of the thunder hurl d\\nAs from thy threshold day by day hast been\\nA little lower than the chilly sheen\\nOf icy pinnacles, and dipp dst thine arms\\nInto the deadening ether that still charms\\nTheir marble being now, as deep profound 210\\nAs those are high, descend He ne er is crown d\\nWith immortality, who fears to follow\\nWhere airy voices lead: so through the hollow,\\nThe silent mysteries of earth, descend", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "112 ENDYMION\\nHe heard but the last words, nor could contend\\nOne moment in reflection for he fled\\nInto the fearful deep, to hide his head\\nFrom the clear moon, the trees, and coming mad-\\nness.\\nT was far too strange, and wonderful for sad-\\nness\\nSharpening, by degrees, his appetite 220\\nTo dive into the deepest. Dark, nor light,\\nThe region nor bright, nor sombre wholly,\\nBut mingled up a gleaming melancholy\\nA dusky empire and its diadems\\nOne faint eternal eventide of gems.\\nAye, millions sparkled on a vein of gold,\\nAlong whose track the prince quick footsteps told,\\nWith all its lines abrupt and angular:\\nOut-shooting sometimes, like a meteor-star.\\nThrough a vast autre then the metal woof, 230\\nLike Vulcan s rainbow, with some monstrous roof\\nCurves hugely now, far in the deep abyss,\\nIt seems an angry lightning, and doth hiss\\nFancy into belief anon it leads\\nThrough winding passages, where sameness breeds\\nVexing conceptions of some sudden change\\nWhether to silver grots, or giant range\\nOf sapphire columns, or fantastic bridge\\nAthwart a flood of crystal. On a ridge\\nNow fareth he, that o er the vast beneath 240\\nTowers like an ocean-cliff, and whence he seeth\\nA hundred waterfalls, whose voices come\\nBut as the murmuring surge. Chilly and numb\\nHis bosom grew, when first he, far away,\\nDescried an orbed diamond, set to fray\\nOld Darkness from his throne t was like the sun\\nUprisen o er chaos: and with such a stun\\nCame the amazement, that, absorb d in it,\\nHe saw not fiercer wonders past the wit", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 113\\nOf any spirit to tell, but one of those 250\\nWho, when this planet s sphering time doth close\\nWill be its high remembrancers who they\\nThe mighty ones who have made eternal day\\nFor Greece and England. While astonishment\\nWith deep-drawn sighs was quieting, he went\\nInto a marble gallery, passing through\\nA mimic temple, so complete and true\\nIn sacred custom, that he well nigh fear d\\nTo search it inwards whence far off appear d,\\nThrough a long pillar d vista, a fair shrine, 260\\nAnd, just beyond, on light tiptoe divine,\\nA quiver d Dian. Stepping awfully,\\nThe youth approach d oft turning his veil d eye\\nDown sidelong aisles, and into niches old\\nAnd when, more near against the marble cold\\nHe had touch d his forehead, he began to thread\\nAll courts and passages, where silence dead,\\nRoused by his whispering footsteps, murmur d\\nfaint\\nAnd long he traversed to and fro, to acquaint\\nHimself with every mystery, and awe 270\\nTill, weary, he sat down before the maw\\nOf a wide outlet, fathomless and dim,\\nTo wild uncertainty and shadows grim.\\nThere, when new wonders ceased to float before,\\nAnd thoughts of self came on, how crude and sore\\nThe journey homeward to habitual self\\nA mad pursuing of the fog-born elf,\\nWhose flitting lantern, through rude nettle-brier.\\nCheats us into a swamp, into a fire,\\nInto the bosom of a hated thing. 280\\nWhat misery most drowningly doth sing\\nIn lone Endymion s ear, now he has raught\\nThe goal of consciousness Ah, tis the thought,\\nThe deadly feel of solitude for lo\\nHe cannot see the heavens, nor the flow", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "114 ENDYMION\\nOf rivers, nor hill-flowers running wild\\nIn pink and purple chequer, nor, up-piled.\\nThe cloudy rack slow journeying in the west,\\nLike herded elephants nor felt, nor prest\\nCool grass, nor tasted the fresh slumberous air 290\\nBut far from such companionship to wear\\nAn unknown time, surcharged with grief, away,\\nWas now his lot. And must he patient stay,\\nTracing fantastic figures with his spear\\nNo exclaim d he, why should I tarry here\\nNo loudly echoed times innumerable.\\nAt which he straightway started, and gan tell\\nHis paces back into the temple s chief\\nWarming and glowing strong in the belief\\nOf help from Dian so that when again 300\\nHe caught her airy form, thus did he plain.\\nMoving more near the while O Haunter chaste\\nOf river sides, and woods, and heathy waste.\\nWhere with thy silver bow and arrows keen\\nArt thou now forested O woodland Queen,\\nWhat smoothest air thy smoother forehead woos\\nWhere dost thou listen to the wide halloos\\nOf thy disparted nymphs Through what dark tree\\nGlimmers thy crescent Wheresoe er it be,\\nT is in the breath of heaven thou dost taste 310\\nFreedom as none can taste it, nor dost waste\\nThy loveliness in dismal elements\\nBut, finding in our green earth sweet contents,\\nThere livest blissfully. Ah, if to thee\\nIt feels Elysian, how rich to me,\\nAn exiled mortal, sounds its pleasant name\\nWithin my breast there lives a choking flame\\nO let me cool t the zophvr-boughs among\\nA homeward fever parches up my tongue\\nO let me slake it at the running springs 320\\nUpon my ear a noisy nothing rings\\nO let me once more hear the linnet s note\\nBefore mine eyes thick films and shadows float\\n1\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 115\\nlet me noint them with the heaven s light\\nDost thou now lave thy feet and ankles white\\nO think how sweet to me the freshening sluice\\nDost thou now please thy thirst with berry- juice\\nO think how this dry palate would rejoice\\nIf in soft slumber thou dost hear my voice,\\nO think how I should love a bed of flowers 330\\nYoung goddess let me see my native bowers\\nDeliver me from this rapacious deep\\nThus ending loudly, as he would o erleap\\nHis destiny, alert he stood but when\\nObstinate silence came heavily again,\\nFeeling about for its old couch of space\\nAnd airy cradle, lowly bow d his face,\\nDesponding, o er the marble floor s cold thrill.\\nBut t was not long for, sweeter than the rill\\nTo its old channel, or a swollen tide 340\\nTo margin sallows, were the leaves he spied,\\nAnd flowers, and wreaths, and ready myrtle crowns\\nUpheaping through the slab refreshment drowns\\nItself, and strives its own delights to hide\\nNor in one spot alone the floral pride\\nIn a long whispering birth enchanted grew\\nBefore his footsteps as when heaved anew\\nOld ocean rolls a lengthened wave to the shore,\\nDown whose green back the short-lived foam, all\\nhoar.\\nBursts gradual, with a wayward indolence. 350\\nIncreasing still in heart, and pleasant sense,\\nUpon his fairy journey on he hastes;\\nSo anxious for the end, he scarcely wastes\\nOne moment with his hand among the sweets\\nOnward he goes he stops his bosom beats\\nAs plainly in his ear, as the faint charm\\nOf which the throbs were born. This still alarm.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "ii6 ENDYMION\\nThis sleepy music, forced him walk tiptoe\\nFor it came more softly than the east could blow\\nArion s magic to the Atlantic isles 360\\nOr than the west, made jealous by the smiles\\nOf throned Apollo, could breathe back the lyre\\nTo seas Ionian and Tyrian.\\nO did he ever live, that lonely man,\\nWho loved and music slew not Tis the pest\\nOf love, that fairest joys give most unrest\\nThat things of delicate and tenderest worth\\nAre swallow d all, and made a seared dearth,\\nBy one consuming flame it doth immerse\\nAnd suffocate true blessings in a curse. 370\\nHalf-happy, by comparison of bliss.\\nIs miserable. T was even so with this\\nDew-dropping melody, in the Carian s ear\\nFirst heaven, then hell, and then forgotten clear,\\nVanish d in elemental passion.\\nAnd down some swart abysm he had gone,\\nHad not a heavenly guide benignant led\\nTo where thick myrtle branches, gainst his head\\nBrushing, awakened then the sounds again\\nWent noiseless as a passing noontide rain 380\\nOver a bower, where little space he stood\\nFor as the sunset peeps into a wood.\\nSo saw he panting light, and towards it went\\nThrough winding alleys and lo, wonderment\\nUpon soft verdure saw, one here, one there,\\nCupids a-slumbering on their pinions fair.\\nAfter a thousand mazes overgone,\\nAt last, with sudden step, he came upon\\nA chamber, myrtle-wall d, embower d high,\\nFull of light, incense, tender minstrelsy, 390\\nAnd more of beautiful and strange beside\\nFor on a silken couch of rosy pride,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 117\\nIn midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth\\nOf fondest beauty fonder, in fair sooth,\\nThan sighs could fathom, or contentment reach\\nAnd coverlids gold-tinted like the peach,\\nOr ripe October s faded marigolds.\\nFell sleek about him in a thousand folds\\nNot hiding up an Apollonian curve\\nOf neck and shoulder, nor the tenting swerve 400\\nOf knee from knee, nor ankles pointing light\\nBut rather, giving them to the lill d sight\\nOfficiously. Sideway his face reposed\\nOn one white arm, and tenderly unclosed,\\nBy tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth\\nTo slumbery pout j ust as the morning south\\nDisparts a dew-lipp d rose. Above his head,\\nFour lily stalks did their white honours wed\\nTo make a coronal and round him grew\\nAll tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, 410\\nTogether intertwin d and trammell d fresh\\nThe vine of glossy sprout the ivy mesh,\\nShading its Ethiop berries and woodbine,\\nOf velvet-leaves and bugle-blooms divine\\nConvolvulus in streaked vases flush\\nThe creeper, mellowing for an autumn blush\\nAnd virgin s boAver, trailing airily\\nWith others of the sisterhood. Hard by,\\nStood serene Cupids watching silently.\\nOne, kneeling to a lyre, touch d the strings, 420\\nMuffling to death the pathos with his wings\\nAnd, ever and anon, uprose to look\\nAt the youth s slumber while another took\\nA willow bough, distilling odorous dew.\\nAnd shook it on his hair another flew\\nIn through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise\\nRain d violets upon his sleeping eyes.\\nAt these enchantments, and yet many more,\\nThe breathless Latmian wonder d o er and o er", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "Ii8 ENDYMION\\nUntil impatient in embarrassment, 430\\nHe forthright pass d, and lightly treading went\\nTo that same feather d lyrist, who straightway,\\nSmiling, thus whisper d Though from upper day\\nThou art a wanderer, and thy presence here\\nMight seem unholy, be of happy cheer\\nFor t is the nicest touch of human honour.\\nWhen some ethereal and high- favouring donor\\nPresents immortal bowers to mortal sense\\nAs now t is done to thee, Endymion. Hence\\nWas I in no wise startled. So recline 440\\nUpon these living flowers. Here is wine,\\nAlive with sparkles never, I aver,\\nSince Ariadne was a vintager,\\nSo cool a purple: taste these juicy pears.\\nSent me by sad Vertumnus, when his fears\\nWere high about Pomona here is cream.\\nDeepening to richness from a snowy gleam\\nSweeter than that nurse Amalthea skimm d\\nFor the boy Jupiter and here, undimm d\\nBy any touch, a bunch of blooming plums 450\\nReady to melt between an infant s gums\\nAnd here is manna pick d from Syrian trees.\\nIn starlight, by the three Hesperides.\\nFeast on, and meanwhile I will let thee know\\nOf all these things around us. He did so.\\nStill brooding o er the cadence of his lyre\\nAnd thus: I need not any hearing tire\\nBy telling how the sea-born goddess pined\\nFor a mortal youth, and how she strove to bind\\nHim all in all unto her doating self. 460\\nWho would not be so prison d but, fond elf.\\nHe was content to let her amorous plea\\nFaint through his careless arms content to see\\nAn unseized heaven d3^ing at his feet\\nContent, O fool to make a cold retreat.\\nWhen on the pleasant grass such love, love-lorn,\\nLay sorrowing when every tear was born", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 119\\nOf diverse passion when her lips and eyes\\nWere closed in sullen moisture, and quick sighs 469\\nCame vex d and pettish through her nostrils small.\\nHush no exclaim yet, justly might st thou call\\nCurses upon his head. I was half glad,\\nBut my poor mistress went distract and mad,\\nWhen the boar tusk d him so away she flew\\nTo Jove s high throne, and by her plainings drew\\nImmortal tear-drops down the thunderer s beard.\\nWhereon, it was decreed he should be rear d\\nEach summer-time to life. Lo this is he,\\nThat same Adonis, safe in the privacy\\nOf this still region all his winter-sleep. 480\\nAye, sleep for when our love-sick queen did weep\\nOver his waned corse, the tremulous shower\\nHeal d up the wound, and, with a balmy power,\\nMedicined death to a lengthened drowsiness\\nThe which she fills with visions, and doth dress\\nIn all this quiet luxury and hath set\\nUs young immortals, without any let.\\nTo watch his slumber through. T is well nigh pass d,\\nEven to a moment s filling up, and fast\\nShe scuds with summer breezes, to pant through 490\\nThe first long kiss, warm firstling, to renew\\nEmbower d sports in Cytherea s isle.\\nLook how those winged listeners all this while\\nStand anxious: see behold This clamant w^ord\\nBroke through the careful silence for they heard\\nA rustling noise of leaves, and out there flutter d\\nPigeons and doves Adonis something mutter d.\\nThe while one hand, that erst upon his thigh\\nLay dormant, moved convulsed and gradually\\nUp to his forehead. Then there was a hum 500\\nOf sudden voices, echoing, Come come\\nArise awake Clear summer has forth walk d\\nUnto the clover-sward, and she has talk d\\nFull soothingly to every nested finch\\nRise, Cupids or we 11 give the bluebell pinch", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "I20 ENDYMION\\nTo your dimpled arms. Once more sweet life be-\\ngin\\nAt this, from every side they hurried in,\\nRubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrists,\\nAnd doubling overhead their little fists\\nIn backward yawns. But all were soon alive 510\\nFor, as delicious wine doth, sparkling, dive\\nIn nectar d clouds and curls through water fair.\\nSo from the arbour roof down swell d an air\\nOdorous and enlivening making all\\nTo laugh, and play, and sing, and loudly call\\nFor their sweet queen when lo the wreathed\\ngreen\\nDisparted, and far upward could be seen\\nBlue heaven, and a silver car, air-borne.\\nWhose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds of morn,\\nSpun off a drizzling dew, which falling chill 520\\nOn soft Adonis shoulders, made him still\\nNestle and turn uneasily about.\\nSoon were the white doves plain, with necks\\nstretch d out.\\nAnd silken traces lighten d in descent\\nAnd soon, returning from love s banishment.\\nQueen Venus leaning downward open-arm d\\nHer shadow fell upon his breast, and charm d\\nA tumult to his heart, and a new life\\nInto his eyes. Ah, miserable strife,\\nBut for her comforting unhappy sight, 530\\nBut meeting her blue orbs Who, who can write\\nOf these first minutes The unchariest muse\\nTo embracements warm as theirs makes coy excuse.\\nO it has ruffled every spirit there.\\nSaving Love s self, who stands superb to share\\nThe general gladness awfully he stands\\nA sovereign quell is in his waving hands\\nNo sight can bear the lightning of his bow\\nHis quiver is mysterious, none can know", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 121\\nWhat themselves think of it from forth his eyes 540\\nThere darts strange light of varied hues and dyes\\nA scowl is sometimes on his brow, but who\\nLook full upon it feel anon the blue\\nOf his fair eyes run liquid through their souls.\\nEndymion feels it, and no more controls\\nThe burning prayer within him so, bent low,\\nHe had begun a plaining of his woe.\\nBut Venus, bending forward, said My child,\\nFavour this gentle youth his days are wild\\nWith love he but alas too well I see 550\\nThou know st the deepness of his misery.\\nAh, smile not so, my son I tell thee true,\\nThat when through heavy hours I used to rue\\nThe endless sleep of this new-born Adon\\nThis stranger ay I pitied. For upon\\nA dreary morning once I fled away\\nInto the breezy clouds, to weep and pray\\nFor this my love for vexing Mars had teased\\nMe even to tears thence, when a little eased,\\nDown-looking, vacant, through a hazy wood, 560\\nI saw this youth as he despairing stood\\nThose same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind\\nThose same full fringed lids a constant blind\\nOver his sullen eyes I saw him throw\\nHimself on wither d leaves, even as though\\nDeath had come sudden for no jot he moved.\\nYet mutter d wildly. I could hear he loved\\nSome fair immortal, and that his embrace\\nHad zoned her through the night. There is no trace\\nOf this in heaven I have mark d each cheek, 570\\nAnd find it is the vainest thing to seek\\nAnd that of all things t is kept secretest.\\nEndymion one day thou wilt be blest\\nSo still obey the guiding hand that fends\\nThee safely through these wonders for sweet ends.\\nT is a concealment needful in extreme\\nAnd if I guessed not so, the sunny beam", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "122 ENDYMION\\nThou shouldst mount up with me. Now adieu\\nHere must we leave thee. At these words upflew\\nThe impatient doves, uprose the floating car, 580\\nUp went the hum celestial. High afar\\nThe Latmian saw them minish into naught\\nAnd, when all were clear vanish d, still he caught\\nA vivid lightning from that dreadful bow.\\nWhen all was darken d, with ^tnean throe\\nThe earth closed gave a solitary moan\\nAnd left him once again in twilight lone.\\nHe did not rave, he did not stare aghast,\\nFor all those visions were o ergone, and past,\\nAnd he in loneliness he felt assured 590\\nOf happy times, when all he had endured\\nWould seem a feather to the mighty prize.\\nSo, with unusual gladness, on he hies\\nThrough caves, and palaces of mottled ore,\\nGold dome, and crystal wall, and turquois floor,\\nBlack polish d porticoes of awful shade,\\nAnd, at the last, a diamond balustrade,\\nLeading afar past wild magnificence.\\nSpiral through ruggedest loopholes, and thence\\nStretching across a void, then guiding o er 600\\nEnormous chasms, where, all foam and roar.\\nStreams subterranean tease their granite beds\\nThen heighten d just above the silvery heads\\nOf a thousand fountains, so that he could dash\\nThe waters with his spear but at the splash.\\nDone heedlessly, those spouting columns rose\\nSudden a poplar s height, and gan to enclose\\nHis diamond path with fretwork, streaming round\\nAlive, and dazzling cool, and with a sound.\\nHaply, like dolphin tumults, when sweet shells 610\\nWelcome the float of Thetis. Long he dwells\\nOn this delight for, every minute s space.\\nThe streams with changed magic interlace\\nSometimes like delicatest lattices,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 123\\nCover d with crystal vines then weeping trees,\\nMoving about as in a gentle wind,\\nWhich, in a wink, to watery gauze refined,\\nPour d into shapes of curtain d canopies,\\nSpangled, and rich with liquid broideries\\nOf flowers, peacocks, swans, and naiads fair. 620\\nSwifter than lightning went these wonders rare\\nAnd then the water, into stubborn streams\\nCollecting, mimick d the wrought oaken beams,\\nPillars, and frieze, and high fantastic roof,\\nOf those dusk places in times far aloof\\nCathedrals call d. He bade a loth farewell\\nTo these founts Protean, passing gulf, and dell,\\nAnd torrent, and ten thousand jutting shapes,\\nHalf seen through deepest gloom, and griesly gapes,\\nBlackening on every side, and overhead 630\\nA vaulted dome like Heaven s, far bespread\\nWith starlight gems aye, all so huge and strange.\\nThe solitary felt a hurried change\\nWorking within him into something dreary,\\nVex d like a morning eagle, lost, and weary.\\nAnd purblind amid foggy, midnight wolds.\\nBut he revives at once for who beholds\\nNew sudden things, nor casts his mental slough\\nForth from a rugged arch, in the dusk below.\\nCame mother Cybele alone alone 640\\nIn sombre chariot dark foldings thrown\\nAbout her majesty, and front death-pale,\\nWith turrets crown d. Four maned lions hale\\nThe sluggish wheels solemn their toothed maws,\\nTheir surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws\\nUplifted drowsily, and nervy tails\\nCowering their tawny brushes. Silent sails\\nThis shadowy queen athwart, and faints away\\nIn another gloomy arch.\\nWherefore delay,\\nYoung traveller, in such a mournful place 650", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "124 ENDYMION\\nArt thou wayworn, or canst not further trace\\nThe diamond path And does it indeed end\\nAbrupt in middle air Yet earthward bend\\nThy forehead, and to Jupiter cloud-borne\\nCall ardently! He was indeed waj^worn\\nAbrupt, in middle air, his way was lost\\nTo cloud-borne Jove he bowed, and there crost\\nTowards him a large eagle, twixt whose wings,\\nWithout one impious word, himself he flings.\\nCommitted to the darkness and the gloom 660\\nDown, down, uncertain to what pleasant doom.\\nSwift as a fathoming plummet down he fell\\nThrough unknown things till exhaled asphodel,\\nAnd rose, with spicy fannings interbreathed,\\nCame swelling forth where little caves were\\nwreathed\\nSo thick with leaves and mosses, that they seem d\\nLarge honeycombs of green, and freshly teem d\\nWith airs delicious. In the greenest nook\\nThe eagle landed him, and farewell took.\\nIt was a jasmine bower, all bestrown 670\\nWith golden moss. His every sense had grown\\nEthereal for pleasure bove his head\\nFlew a delight half-graspable his tread\\nWas Hesperean to his capable ears\\nSilence was music from the holy spheres\\nA dewy luxury was in his eyes\\nThe little flowers felt his pleasant sighs\\nAnd stirr d them faintly. Verdant cave and cell\\nHe wander d through, oft wondering at such swell\\nOf sudden exaltation but, Alas! 680\\nSaid he, will all this gush of feeling pass\\nAway in solitude And must they wane,\\nLike melodies upon a sandy plain,\\nWithout an echo Then shall I be left\\nSo sad, so melancholy, so bereft\\nYet still I feel immortal O my love,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 125\\nMy breath of life, where art thou High above,\\nDancing before the morning gates of heaven\\nOr keeping watch among those starry seven,\\nOld Atlas children Art a maid of the waters, 690\\nOne of shell-winding Triton s bright-hair d daugh-\\nters\\nOr art, impossible a nymph of Dian s,\\nWeaving a coronal of tender scions\\nFor very idleness Where er thou art,\\nMethinks it now is at my will to start\\nInto thine arms to scare Aurora s train,\\nAnd snatch thee from the morning o er the main\\nTo scud like a wild bird, and take thee off\\nFrom thy\u00c2\u00ab^ea-foamy cradle or to doff\\nThy shepherd vest, and woo thee mid fresh leaves.\\nNo, no, too eagerly my soul deceives 701\\nIts powerless self I know this cannot be.\\nO let me then by some sweet dreaming flee\\nTo her entrancements hither sleep awhile\\nHither most gentle sleep and soothing foil\\nFor some few hours the coming solitude.\\nThus spake he, and that mom ent felt endued\\nWith power to dream deliciously so wound\\nThrough a dim passage, searching till he found\\nThe smoothest mossy bed and deepest, where 710\\nHe threw himself, and just into the air\\nStretching his indolent arms, he took, O bliss!\\nA naked waist Fair Cupid, whence is this\\nA well-known voice sigh d, Sweetest, here am I!\\nAt which soft ravishment, with doting cry\\nThey trembled to each other. Helicon\\nO fountain d hill Old Homer s Helicon!\\nThat thou wouldst spout a little streamlet o er\\nThese sorry pages then the verse would soar\\nAnd sing above this gentle pair, like lark 720\\nOver his nested young but all is dark\\nAround thine aged top, and thy clear fount", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "126 ENDYMION\\nExhales in mists to heaven. Aye, the count\\nOf mighty Poets is made up the scroll\\nIs folded by the Muses the bright roll\\nIs in Apollo s hand our dazed eyes\\nHave seen a new tinge in the western skies\\nThe world has done its duty. Yet, oh yet,\\nAlthough the sun of poesy is set,\\nThese lovers did embrace, and we must weep 730\\nThat there is no old power left to steep\\nA quill immortal in their joyous tears.\\nLong time in silence did their anxious fears\\nQuestion that thus it was long time they lay\\nFondling and kissing every doubt away\\nLong time ere soft caressing sobs began\\nTo mellow into words, and then there ran\\nTwo bubbling springs of talk from their sweet\\nlips.\\nO known Unknown from whom my being sips\\nSuch darling essence, wherefore may I not 740\\nBe ever in these arms in this sweet spot\\nPillow my chin for ever ever press\\nThese toying hands and kiss their smooth excess\\nWhy not for ever and for ever feel\\nThat breath about my eyes Ah, thou wilt steal\\nAway from me again, indeed, indeed\\nThou wilt be gone away, and wilt not heed\\nMy lonely madness. Speak, delicious fair.\\nIs is it to be so No Who will dare\\nTo pluck thee from me And, of thine own\\nwill, 750\\nFull well I feel thou wouldst not leave me. Still\\nLet me entwine thee surer, surer now\\nHow can we part Elysium Who art thou\\nWho, that thou canst not be for ever here.\\nOr lift me with thee to some starry sphere\\nEnchantress tell me by this soft embrace,\\nBy the most soft completion of thy face,\\nThose lips, O slippery blisses, twinkling eyes,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 127\\nAnd by these tenderest, milky sovereignties\\nThese tenderest, and by the nectar-wine, 760\\nThe passion O doved Ida the divine\\nEndymion dearest 1 Ah, unhappy me\\nHis soul will scape us O felicity\\nHow he does love me His poor temples beat\\nTo the very tune of love how sweet, sweet, sweet.\\nRevive, dear youth, or I shall faint and die\\nRevive, or these soft hours will hurry by\\nIn tranced dullness speak, and let that spell\\nAffright this lethargy I cannot quell\\nIts heavy pressure, and will press at least 770\\nMy lips to thine, that they may richly feast\\nUntil we taste the life of love again.\\nWhat dost thou move dost kiss O bliss O\\npain\\nI love thee, youth, more than I can conceive\\nAnd so long absence from thee doth bereave\\nMy soul of any rest yet must I hence\\nYet, can I not to starry eminence\\nUplift thee nor for very shame can own\\nMyself to thee. Ah, dearest, do not groan\\nOr thou wilt force me from this secrecy, 780\\nAnd I must blush in heaven. O that I\\nHad done it already that the dreadful smiles\\nAt my lost brightness, my impassion d wiles,\\nHad waned from Olympus solemn height.\\nAnd from all serious Gods that our delight\\nWas quite forgotten, save of us alone\\nAnd wherefore so ashamed T is but to atone\\nFor endless pleasure, by some coward blushes\\nYet must I be a coward Honour rushes\\nToo palpable before me the sad look 790\\nOf Jove Minerva s start no bosom shook\\nWith awe of purity no Cupid pinion\\nIn reverence veiled my crystalline dominion\\nHalf lost, and all old hymns made nullity\\nBut what is this to love O I could fly i d", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "128 ENDYMION\\nWith thee into the ken of heavenly powers,\\nSo thou wouldst thus, for many sequent hours,\\nPress me so sweetly. Now I swear at once\\nThat I am wise, that Pallas is a dunce\\nPerhaps her love like mine is but unknown 800\\nI do think that 1 have been alone\\nIn chastity: yes, Pallas has been sighing,\\nWhile every eve saw me my hair uptying\\nWith fingers cool as aspen leaves. Sweet love,\\n1 was as vague as solitary dove,\\nNor knew that nests were built. Now a soft kiss\\nAye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.\\nAn immortality of passion s thine\\nEre long I will exalt thee to the shine\\nOf heaven ambrosial and we will shade 810\\nOurselves whole summers by a river glade\\nAnd I will tell thee stories of the sky.\\nAnd breathe thee whispers of its minstrelsy.\\nMy happy love will overwing all bounds\\nO let me melt into thee let the sounds\\nOf our close voices marry at their birth\\nLet us entwine hoveringly O dearth\\nOf human words! roughness of mortal speech\\nLispings empyrean will I sometime teach\\nThine honey d tongue lute-breathings which I\\ngasp 820\\nTo have thee understand, now while I clasp\\nThee thus, and weep for fondness I am pain d.\\nEndymion woe woe is grief contain d\\nIn the very deeps of pleasure, my sole life\\nHereat, with many sobs, her gentle strife\\nMelted into a languor. He return d\\nEntranced vows and tears.\\nYe who have yearn d\\nWith too much passion, will here stay and pity,\\nFor the mere sake of truth as t is a ditty\\nNot of these days, but long ago t was told 830\\nBy a cavern wind unto a forest old", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 129\\nAnd then the forest told it in a dream\\nTo a sleeping lake, whose cool and level gleam\\nA poet caught as he was journeying\\nTo Phoebus shrine and in it he did fling\\nHis weary limbs, bathing an hour s space,\\nAnd after, straight in that inspired place\\nHe sang the story up into the air,\\nGiving it universal freedom. There\\nHas it been ever sounding for those ears 840\\nWhose tips are glowing hot. The legend cheers\\nYon sentinel stars and he who listens to it\\nMust surely be self-doom d or he will rue it\\nFor quenchless burnings come upon the heart.\\nMade fiercer by a fear lest any part\\nShould be engulfed in the eddying wind.\\nAs much as here is penn d doth always find\\nA resting-place, thus much comes clear and plain\\nAnon the strange voice is upon the wane\\nAnd t is but echoed from departing sound, 850\\nThat the fair visitant at last unwound\\nHer gentle limbs, and left the youth asleep.\\nThus the tradition of the gusty deep.\\nNow turn we to our former chroniclers.\\nEndymion awoke, that grief of hers\\nSweet paining on his ear he sickly guess d\\nHow lone he was once more, and sadly press d\\nHis empty arms together, hung his head.\\nAnd most forlorn upon that widow d bed\\nSat silently. Love s madness he had known: 860\\nOften with more than tortured lion s groan\\nMoanings had burst from him but now that rage\\nHad pass d away no longer did he wage\\nA rough- voiced war against the dooming stars.\\nNo, he had felt too much for such harsh jars:\\nThe lyre of his soul ^olian tuned\\nForgot all violence, and but communed\\nWith melancholy thought O he had swoon d", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "I30 ENDYMION\\nDrunken from pleasure s nipple and his love\\nHenceforth was dove-like. Loth was he to move 870\\nFrom the imprinted couch, and when he did,\\nT was with slow, languid paces, and face hid\\nIn muffling hands. So temper d, out he stray d\\nHalf seeing visions that might have dismay d\\nAlecto s serpents ravishments more keen\\nThan Hermes pipe, when anxious he did lean\\nOver eclipsing eyes and at the last\\nIt was a sounding grotto, vaulted, vast,\\nO erstudded with a thousand, thousand pearls,\\nAnd crimson-mouthed shells with stubborn curls, 880\\nOf every shape and size, even to the bulk\\nIn which whales harbour close, to brood and sulk\\nAgainst an endless storm. Moreover too.\\nFish-semblances, of green and azure hue,\\nReady to snort their streams. In this cool wonder\\nEndymion sat down, and gan to ponder\\nOn all his life his youth, up to the day\\nWhen mid acclaim, and feasts, and garlands gay.\\nHe stept upon his shepherd throne the look\\nOf his white palace in wild forest nook, 890\\nAnd all the revels he had lorded there\\nEach tender maiden whom he once thought fair,\\nWith every friend and fellow-woodlander\\nPass d like a dream before him. Then the spur\\nOf the old bards to mighty deeds his plans\\nTo nurse the golden age niong shepherd clans\\nThat wondrous night the great Pan festival\\nHis sister s sorrow and his wanderings all,\\nUntil into the earth s deep maw he rush d\\nThen all its buried magic, till it tiush d 900\\nHigh with excessive love. And now, thought he,\\nHow long must I remain in jeopardy\\nOf blank amazements that amaze no more\\nNow I have tasted her sweet soul to the core,\\nAll other depths are shallow essences,\\nOnce spiritual, are like muddy lees,\\nI\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 131\\nMeant but to fertilize my earthly root,\\nAnd make my branches lift a golden fruit\\nInto the bloom of heaven other light,\\nThough it be quick and sharp enough to blight 910\\nThe Olympian eagle s vision, is dark.\\nDark as the parentage of chaos. Hark\\nMy silent thoughts are echoing from these shells\\nOr they are but the ghosts, the dying swells\\nOf noises far away list Hereupon\\nHe kept an anxious ear. The humming tone\\nCame louder, and behold, there as he lay,\\nOn either side outgush d, with misty spray,\\nA copious spring and both together dash d\\nSwift, mad, fantastic round the rocks, and lash d 920\\nAmong the conchs and shells of the lofty grot,\\nLeaving a trickling dew. At last they shot\\nDown from the ceiling s height, pouring a noise\\nAs of some breathless racers whose hopes poise\\nUpon the last few steps, and with spent force\\nAlong the ground they took a winding course.\\nEndymion follow d for it seem d that one\\nEver pursued, the other strove to shun\\nFollow d their languid mazes, till well nigh\\nHe had left thinking of the mystery, 930\\nAnd was now rapt in tender hoverings\\nOver the vanish d bliss. Ah what is it sings\\nHis dream away What melodies are these\\nThey sound as through the whispering of trees,\\nNot native in such barren vaults. Give ear\\nO Arethusa, peerless nymph why fear\\nSuch tenderness as mine Great Dian, why,\\nWhy didst thou hear her prayer O that I\\nWere rippling round her dainty fairness now,\\nCircling about her waist, and striving how 940\\nTo entice her to a dive then stealing in\\nBetween her luscious lips and eyelids thin.\\nO that her shining hair was in the sun,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "132 ENDYMION\\nAnd I distilling from it thence to run\\nIn amorous rillets down her shrinking form\\nTo linger on her lily shoulders, warm\\nBetween her kissing breasts, and every charm\\nTouch raptured see how painfully I flow\\nFair maid, be pitiful to my great woe.\\nStay, stay thy weary course, and let me lead, 950\\nA happy wooer, to the flowery mead\\nWhere all that beauty snared me. Cruel god,\\nDesist or my offended mistress nod\\nWill stagnate all thy fountains tease me not\\nWith siren words Ah, have I really got\\nSuch power to madden thee And is it true\\nAway, away, or I shall dearly rue\\nMy very thoughts in mercy then away,\\nKindest Alpheus, for should I obey\\nMy own dear will, t would be a deadly bane. 960\\nO, Oread-Queen would that thou hadst a pain\\nLike this of mine, then would I fearless turn\\nAnd be a criminal. Alas, I burn,\\nI shudder gentle river, get thee hence.\\nAlpheus thou enchanter every sense\\nOf mine was once made perfect in these woods.\\nFresh breezes, bowery lawns, and innocent floods,\\nKipe fruits, and lonely couch, contentment gave\\nBut ever since I heedlessly did lave\\nIn thy deceitful stream, a panting glow 970\\nGrew strong within me wherefore serve me so.\\nAnd call it love Alas t was cruelty.\\nNot once more did I close my happy eye\\nAmid the thrush s song. Away a vaunt\\nO t was a cruel thing. Now thou dost taunt\\nSo softly, Arethusa, that I think\\nIf thou wast playing on iny shady brink,\\nThou wouldst bathe once again. Innocent maid\\nStifle thine heart no more nor be afraid\\nOf angry powers there are deities 980\\nWill shade us with their wings. Those fitful sighs", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 133\\nT is almost death to hear O let me pour\\nA dewy balm upon them fear no more,\\nSweet Arethusa Dian s self must feel\\nSometimes these very pangs. Dear maiden, steal\\nBlushing into my soul, and let us fly\\nThese dreary caverns for the open sky.\\nI will delight thee all my winding course,\\nFrom the green sea up to my hidden source\\nAbout Arcadian forests and will show 990\\nThe channels where my coolest waters flow\\nThrough mossy rocks where mid exuberant green,\\nI roam in pleasant darkness, more unseen\\nThan Saturn in his exile where I brim\\nRound flowery islands, and take thence a skim\\nOf mealy sweets, which myriads of bees\\nBuzz from their honey d wings and thou shouldst\\nplease\\nThyself to choose the richest, where we might\\nBe inoense-pillow d every summer night.\\nDoff all sad fears, thou white deliciousness, 1000\\nAnd let us be thus comforted unless\\nThou couldst rejoice to see my hopeless stream\\nHurry distracted from Sol s temperate beam.\\nAnd pour to death along some hungry sands.\\nWhat can I do, Alpheus Dian stands\\nSevere before me persecuting fate\\nUnhappy Arethusa thou wast late\\nA huntress free in At this, sudden fell\\nThose two sad streams adown a fearful dell.\\nThe Latmian listen d, but he heard no more, loio\\nSave echo, faint repeating o er and o er\\nThe name of Arethusa. On the verge\\nOf that dark gulf he wept, and said I urge\\nThee, gentle Goddess of my pilgrimage,\\nBy our eternal hopes, to soothe, to assuage,\\nIf thou art powerful, these lovers pains\\nAnd make them happy in some happy plains.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "134 ENDYMION\\nHe tiirn d there was a whelming sound he\\nstept,\\nThere w^as a cooler light and so he kept\\nTowards it by a sandy path, and lo 1020\\nMore suddenly than doth a moment go,\\nThe visions of the earth were gone and fled\\nHe saw the giant sea abov,e his head.\\nBOOK III\\nThere are who lord it o er their fellow-men\\nWith most prevailing tinsel who unpen\\nTheir baaing vanities, to browse away\\nThe comfortable green and juicy hay\\nFrom human pastures or, O torturing fact\\nWho, through an idiot blink, will see unpack d\\nFire-branded foxes to sear up and singe\\nOur gold and ripe-ear d hopes. With not one tinge\\nOf sanctuary splendour, not a sight\\nAble to face an owl s, they still are dight 10\\nBy the blear-eyed nations in empurpled vests.\\nAnd crowns, and turbans. With unladen breasts,\\nSave of blown self-applause, they proudly mount\\nTo their spirit s perch, their being s high account.\\nTheir tiptop nothings, their dull skies, their\\nthrones\\nAmid the fierce intoxicating tones\\nOf trumpets, shoutings, and belabour d drums.\\nAnd sudden cannon. Ah how all this hums.\\nIn wakeful ears, like uproar past and gone\\nLike thunder-clouds that spake to Babylon, 20\\nAnd set those old Chaldeans to their tasks.\\nAre then regalities all gilded masks\\nNo, there are throned seats unscalable\\nBut by a patient wing, a constant spell,\\nOr by ethereal things that, unconfined,\\nCan make a ladder of the eternal wind,\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 135\\nAnd poise about in cloudy thunder-tents\\nTo watch the abysm-birth of elements.\\nAye, bove the withering of old-lipp d Fate\\nA thousand Powers keep religious state, 30\\nIn water, fiery realm, and airy bourne\\nAnd, silent as a consecrated urn,\\nHold spherey sessions for a season due.\\nYet few of these far majesties, ah, few\\nHave bared their operations to this globe\\nFew, who with gorgeous pageantry enrobe\\nOur piece of heaven whose benevolence\\nShakes hand with our own Ceres every sense\\nFilling with spiritual sweets to plenitude,\\nAs bees gorge full their cells. And, by the feud 40\\nTwixt Nothing and Creation, I here swear,\\nEterne Apollo that thy Sister fair\\nIs of all these the gentlier-mightiest.\\nWhen thy gold breath is misting in the west,\\nShe unobserved steals unto her throne.\\nAnd there she sits most meek and most alone\\nAs if she had not pomp subservient\\nAs if thine eye, high Poet was not bent\\nTowards her with the Muses in thine heart\\nAs if the minist ring stars kept not apart, 50\\nWaiting for silver-footed messages.\\nO Moon the oldest shades mong oldest trees\\nFeel palpitations when thou lookest in\\nO Moon old boughs lisp forth a holier din\\nThe while they feel thine airy fellowship.\\nThou dost bless everywhere, with silver lip\\nKissing dead things to life. The sleeping kine,\\nCouch d in thy brightness, dream of fields divine\\nInnumerable mountains rise, and rise,\\nAmbitious for the hallowing of thine eyes 60\\nAnd yet thy benediction passeth not\\nOne obscure hiding-place, one little spot\\nWhere pleasure may be sent the nested wren\\nHas thy fair face within its tranquil ken,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "136 ENDYMION\\nAnd from beneath a sheltering ivy leaf\\nTakes glimpses of thee thou art a relief\\nTo the poor patient oyster, where it sleeps\\nWithin its pearly house. The mighty deeps.\\nThe monstrous sea is thine the myriad sea\\nO Moon far-spooming Ocean bows to thee, 70\\nAnd Tellus feels his forehead s cumbrous load.\\nCynthia where art thou now What far abode\\nOf green or silvery bower doth enshrine\\nSuch utmost beauty Alas, thou dost pine\\nFor one as sorrowful thy cheek is pale\\nFor one whose cheek is pale thou dost bewail\\nHis tears, who weeps for thee. Where dost thou\\nsigh?\\nAh surely that light peeps from Vesper s eye,\\nOr what a thing is love T is She, but lo\\nHow changed, how full of ache, how gone in\\nwoe 80\\nShe dies at the thinnest cloud her loveliness\\nIs wan on Neptune s blue yet there s a stress\\nOf love-spangles, just off yon cape of trees.\\nDancing upon the waves, as if to please\\nThe curly foam with amorous influence.\\nO, not so idle for down-glancing thence.\\nShe fathoms eddies, and runs wild about\\nO erwhelming water-courses scaring out\\nThe thorny sharks from hiding-holes, and fright-\\nning\\nTheir savage eyes with unaccustom d lightning. 90\\nWhere will the splendour be content to reach\\nO love how potent hast thou been to teach\\nStrange journeyings Wherever beauty dwells.\\nIn gulf or aerie, mountains or deep dells,\\nIn light, in gloom, in star or blazing sun,\\nThou pointest out the way, and straight t is won.\\nAmid his toil thou gavest Leander breath\\nThou leddest Orpheus through the gleams of death\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 137\\nThou madest Pluto bear thin element\\nAnd now, O winged Chieftain thou hast sent 100\\nA moonbeam to the deep, deep water- world,\\nTo find Endymion.\\nOn gold sand impearl d\\nWith lily shells, and pebbles milky white,\\nPoor Cynthia greeted him, and soothed her light\\nAgainst his pallid face he felt the charm\\nTo breathlessness, and suddenly a warm\\nOf his heart s blood t was very sweet he stay d\\nHis wandering steps, and half-entranced laid\\nHis head upon a tuft of straggling weeds.\\nTo taste the gentle moon, and freshening beads, no\\nLash d from the crystal roof by fishes tails.\\nAnd so he kept, until the rosy veils\\nMantling the east, by Aurora s peering hand\\nWere lifted from the water s breast, and fann d\\nInto sweet air and sober d morning came\\nMeekly through billows when like taper-flame\\nLeft sudden by a dallying breath of air,\\nHe rose in silence, and once more gan fare\\nAlong his fated way.\\nFar had he roam d,\\nWith nothing save the hollow vast, that foam d 120\\nAbove, around, and at his feet save things\\nMore dead than Morpheus imaginings\\nOld rusted anchors, helmets, breastplates large\\nOf gone sea- warriors brazen beaks and targe\\nEudders that for a hundred years had lost\\nThe sway of human hand gold vase emboss d\\nWith long-forgotten story, and wherein\\nNo reveller had ever dipp d a chin\\nBut those of Saturn s vintage mouldering scrolls.\\nWrit in the tongue of heaven, by those souls 130\\nWho first were on the earth and sculptures rude\\nIn ponderous stone, developing the mood", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "138 ENDYMION\\nOf ancient Nox then skeletons of man,\\nOf beast, behemoth, and leviathan,\\nAnd elephant, and eagle, and huge jaw\\nOf nameless monster. A cold leaden awe\\nThese secrets struck into him and unless\\nDian had chased away that heaviness.\\nHe might have died but now, with cheered feel.\\nHe onward kept wooing these thoughts to steal 140\\nAbout the labyrinth in his soul of love.\\nWhat is there in thee. Moon that thou shouldst\\nmove\\nMy heart so potently When yet a child\\nI oft have dried my tears when thou hast smiled.\\nThou seem dst my sister hand in hand we went\\nFrom eve to morn across the firmament.\\nNo apples would I gather from the tree,\\nTill thou hadst cool d their cheeks deliciously\\nNo tumbling water ever spake romance.\\nBut when my eyes with thine thereon could dance\\nNo woods were green enough, no bower divine, 151\\nUntil thou liftedst up thine eyelids fine\\nIn sowing-time ne er would I dibble take,\\nOr drop a seed, till thou wast wide awake\\nAnd, in the summer tide of blossoming.\\nNo one but thee hath heard me blithely sing\\nAnd mesh my dewy flowers all the night.\\nNo melody was like a passing spright\\nIf it went not to solemnize thy reign.\\nYes, in my boyhood, every joy and pain 160\\nBy thee were fashion d to the self-same end\\nAnd as I grew in years, still didst thou blend\\nWith all my ardours thou wast the deep glen\\nThou wast the mountain-top the sage s pen\\nThe poet s harp the voice of friends the sun\\nThou wast the river thou wast glory won\\nThou wast my clarion s blast thou wast my\\nsteed", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 139\\nMy goblet full of wine my topmost deed\\nThou wast the charm of women, lovely Moon\\nO what a wild and harmonized tune 170\\nMy spirit struck from all the beautiful\\nOn some bright essence could I lean, and lull\\nMyself to immortality I prest\\nNature s soft pillow in a wakeful rest.\\nBut gentle Orb there came a nearer bliss\\nMy strange love came Felicity s abyss\\nShe came, and thou didst fade, and fade away\\nYet not entirely no, thy starry sway\\nHas been an under- passion to this hour.\\nNow I begin to feel thine orby power 180\\nIs coming fresh upon me O be kind,\\nKeep back thine influence, and do not blind\\nMy sovereign vision. Dearest love, forgive\\nThat I can think away from thee and live\\nPardon me, airy planet, that I prize\\nOne thought beyond thine argent luxuries!\\nHow far beyond.! At this a surprised start\\nFrosted the springing verdure of his heart\\nFor as he lifted up his eyes to swear\\nHow his own goddess was past all things fair, 190\\nHe saw far in the concave green of the sea\\nAn old man sitting calm and peacefully.\\nUpon a weeded rock this old man sat,\\nAnd his white hair was awful, and a mat\\nOf weeds were cold beneath his cold thin feet\\nAnd, ample as the largest winding-sheet,\\nA cloak of blue wrapp d up his aged bones,\\nO erwrought with symbols by the deepest groans\\nOf ambitious magic every ocean-form\\nWas woven in with black distinctness storm, 200\\nAnd calm, and whispering, and hideous roar,\\nQuicksand, and whirlpool, and deserted shore\\nWere emblem d in the woof with every shape\\nThat skims, or dives, or sleeps, twixt cape and\\ncape.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "140 ENDYMION\\nThe gulphing whale was like a dot in the spell,\\nYet look upon it, and t would size and swell\\nTo its huge self and the minutest fish\\nWould pass the very hardest gazer s wish,\\nAnd show his little eye s anatomy.\\nThen there was pictured the regality 210\\nOf Neptune and the sea-nymphs round his state,\\nIn beauteous vassalage, look up and wait.\\nBeside this old man lay a pearly wand,\\nAnd in his lap a book, the which he conn d\\nSo steadfastly, that the new denizen\\nHad time to keep him in amazed ken,\\nTo mark these shadowings, and stand in awe.\\nThe old man raised his hoary head and saw\\nThe wilder d stranger seeming not to see.\\nHis features were so lifeless. Suddenly 220\\nHe woke as from a trance his snow-white brows\\nWent arching up, and like two magic ploughs\\nFurrow d deep wrinkles in his forehead large,\\nWhich kept as fixedly as rocky marge,\\nTill round his wither d lips had gone a smile.\\nThen up he rose, like one whose tedious toil\\nHad watch d for years in forlorn hermitage,\\nWho had not from mid-life to utmost age\\nEased in one accent his o erburden d soul.\\nEven to the trees. He rose he grasp d his stole.\\nWith convulsed clenches waving it abroad, 231\\nAnd in a voice of solemn joy, that awed\\nEcho into oblivion, he said\\nThou art the man Now shall I lay my head\\nIn peace upon my watery pillow now\\nSleep will come smoothly to my weary brow.\\nO Jove I shall be young again, be young\\nO shell-borne Neptune, I am pierced and stung\\nWith new-born life What shall I do Where go,\\nWhen I have cast this serpent-skin of woe 240", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 141\\nI 11 swim to the sirens, and one moment listen\\nTheir melodies, and see their long hair glisten\\nAnon upon that giant s arm I 11 be,\\nThat writhes about the roots of Sicily\\nTo northern seas I 11 in a twinkling sail,\\nAnd mount upon the snortings of a whale\\nTo some black cloud; thence down I ll madly\\nsweep\\nOn forked lightning, to the deepest deep,\\nWhere through some sucking pool I will be hurl d\\nWith rapture to the other side of the world 250\\nO, I am full of gladness Sisters three,\\nI bow full-hearted to your old decree\\nYes, every god be thank d, and power benign.\\nFor I no more shall wither, droop, and pine.\\nThou art the man Endymion started back\\nDismay d and, like a wretch from whom the rack\\nTortures hot breath, and speech of agony,\\nMutter d What lonely death am I to die\\nIn this cold region Will he let me freeze,\\nAnd float my brittle limbs o er polar seas 260\\nOr will he touch me with his searing hand,\\nAnd leave a black memorial on the sand\\nOr tear me piecemeal with a bony saw.\\nAnd keep me as a chosen food to draw\\nHis magian fish through hated fire and flame\\nO misery of hell resistless, tame,\\nAm I to be burnt up No, I will shout.\\nUntil the gods through heaven s blue look out\\nO Tartarus but some few days agone\\nHer soft arms were entwining me, and on 270\\nHer voice I hung like fruit among green leaves\\nHer lips were all my own, and ah, ripe sheaves\\nOf happiness ye on the stubble droop.\\nBut never may be garner d. I must stoop\\nMy head, and kiss death s foot. Love! love, fare-\\nwell\\nIs there no hope from thee This horrid spell", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "142 ENDYMION\\nWould melt at thy sweet breath. By Dian s hind\\nFeeding from her white fingers, on the wind\\nI see thy streaming hair and now, by Pan,\\nI care not for this old mysterious man 280\\nHe spake, and walking to that aged form,.\\nLook d high defiance. Lo his heart gan warm\\nWith pity, for the gray-hair d creature wept.\\nHad he then wrong d a heart where sorrow kept\\nHad he, though blindly contumelious, brought\\nRheum to kind eyes, a sting to human thought,\\nConvulsion to a mouth of many years\\nHe had in truth and he was ripe for tears.\\nThe penitent shower fell, as down he knelt\\nBefore that care-worn sage, who trembling felt 290\\nAbout his large dark locks, and faltering spake\\nArise, good youth, for sacred Phoebus sake\\nI know thine inmost bosom, and I feel\\nA very brother s yearning for thee steal\\nInto mine own for why thou openest\\nThe prison gates that have so long opprest\\nMy weary watching. Though thou kuow st it not,\\nThou art commission d to this fated spot\\nFor great enfranchisement. O weep no more\\nI am a friend to love, to loves of yore 300\\nAye, hadst thou never loved an unknown power,\\nI had been grieving at this joyous hour.\\nBut even now most miserable old,\\nI saw thee, and my blood no longer cold\\nGave mighty pulses in this tottering case\\nGrew a new heart, which at this moment plays\\nAs dancingly as thine. Be not afraid.\\nFor thou Shalt hear this secret all di splay d.\\nNow as we speed towards our joyous task.\\nSo saying, this young soul in age s mask 310\\nWent forward with the Carian side by side", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 143\\nResuming quickly thus while ocean s tide\\nHung swollen at their backs, and j ewell d sands\\nTook silently their foot- prints.\\nMy soul stands\\nNow past the midway from mortality,\\nAnd so I can prepare without a sigh\\nTo tell thee briefly all my joy and pain.\\nI was a fisher once, upon this main,\\nAnd my boat danced in every creek and bay\\nRough billows were my home by night and day\\nThe sea-gulls not more constant for I had 321\\nNo housing from the storm and tempests mad,\\nBut hollow rocks and they were palaces\\nOf silent happiness, of slumberous ease\\nLong years of misery have told me so.\\nAye, thus it was one thousand years ago.\\nOne thousand years Is it then possible\\nTo look so plainly through them to dispel\\nA thousand years with backward glance sublime\\nTo breathe away as twere all scummy slime 330\\nFrom off a crystal pool, to see its deep,\\nAnd one s own image from the bottom peep\\nYes now I am no longer wretched thrall,\\nMy long captivity and moanings all\\nAre but a slime, a thin-pervading scum.\\nThe which I breathe away, and thronging come\\nLike things of yesterday my youthful pleasures:\\nI tou\u00e2\u0082\u00ach d no lute, I sang not, trod no measures\\nI was a lonely youth on desert shores.\\nMy sports were lonely, mid continuous roars, 340\\nAnd craggy isles, and sea-mew s plaintive cry\\nPlaining discrepant between sea and sky.\\nDolphins were still my playmates shapes unseen\\nWould let me feel their scales of gold and green.\\nNor be my desolation; and, full oft,\\nWhen a dread waterspout had rear d aloft", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "144 ENDYMION\\nIts hungry hugeness, seeming ready ripe\\nTo burst with hoarsest thunderings, and wipe\\nMy life away like a vast sponge of fate,\\nSome friendly monster, pitying my sad state,\\nHas dived to its foundations, gulf d it down, 350\\nAnd left me tossing safely. But the crown j\\nOf all my life was utmost quietude 1\\nMore did I love to lie in cavern rude,\\nKeeping in wait whole days for Neptune s voice,\\nAnd if it came at last, hark, and rej oice\\nThere blush d no summer eve but I would steer\\nMy skiff along green shelving coasts, to hear\\nThe shepherd s pipe come clear from aery steep.\\nMingled with ceaseless bleatings of his sheep 360\\nAnd never was a day of summer shine,\\nBut I beheld its birth upon the brine\\nFor I would watch all night to see unfold\\nHeaven s gates, and ^thon snort his morning gold\\nWide o er the swelling streams: and constantly\\nAt brim of day-tide on some grassy lea,\\nMy nets would be spread out, and I at rest.\\nThe poor folk of the sea-country I blest\\nWith daily boon of fish most delicate\\nThey knew not whence this bounty, and elate 370 ff\\nWould strew sweet flowers on a sterile beach. I\\nWhy was I not contented Wherefore reach\\nAt things which, but for thee, O Latmian 1\\nHad been my dreary death Fool I began\\nTo feel distemper d longings to desire\\nThe utmost privilege that ocean s sire\\nCould grant in benediction to be free\\nOf all his kingdom. Long in misery\\nI wasted, ere in one extremest fit\\nI plunged for life or death. To interknit 380\\nOne s senses with so dense a breathing stuff\\nMight seem a work of pain so not enough\\nCan I admire how crystal- smooth it felt,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 145\\nAnd buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt\\nWhole days and days in sheer astonishment\\nForgetful utterly of self -intent\\nMoving but with the mighty ebb and flow.\\nThen, like a new-fledged bird that flrst doth show\\nHis spreaded feathers to the morrow chill,\\nI tried in fear the pinions of my will. 390\\nT was freedom and at once I visited\\nThe ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed.\\nNo need to tell thee of them, for I see\\nThat thou hast been a witness it must be\\nFor these I know thou canst not feel a drouth,\\nBy the melancholy corners of that mouth.\\nSo I will in my story straightway pass\\nTo more immediate matter. Woe, alas\\nThat love should be my bane Ah, Scylla fair\\nWhy did poor Glaucus ever ever dare 400\\nTo sue thee to his heart Kind stranger-youth\\nI loved her to the very white of truth,\\nAnd she would not conceive it. Timid thing\\nShe fled m^e swift as sea-bird on the wing.\\nRound every isle, and point, and promontory,\\nFrom where large Hercules wound up his story\\nFar as Egyptian Nile, My passion grew\\nThe more, the more I saw her dainty hue\\nGleam delicately through the azure clear:\\nUntil twas too fierce agony to bear 410\\nAnd in that agony, across my grief\\nIt flash d, that Circe might find some relief\\nCruel enchantress So above the water\\nI rear d my head, and look d for Phoebus daughter.\\n^gea s isle was wondering at the moon\\nIt seem d to whirl around me, and a swoon\\nLeft me dead-drifting to that fatal power.\\nWhen I awoke, t was in a twilight bower\\nJust when the light of morn, with hum of bees.\\nStole through its verdurous matting of fresh trees. 420", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "146 ENDYMION\\nHow sweet, and sweeter for I heard a lyre,\\nAnd over it a sighing voice expire.\\nIt ceased I caught light footsteps and anon\\nThe fairest face that morn e er look d upon\\nPush d through a screen of roses. Starry Jove\\nWith tears, and smiles, and honey- words she wove\\nA net whose thraldom was more bliss than all\\nThe range of flower d Elysium. Thus did fall\\nThe dew of her rich speech Ah art awake\\nlet me hear thee speak, for Cupid s sake 430\\n1 am so oppress d with joy Why, I have shed\\nAn urn of tears, as though thou wert cold dead\\nAnd now I find thee living, I will pour\\nFrom these devoted eyes their silver store,\\nUntil exhausted of the latest drop.\\nSo it will pleasure thee, and force thee stop\\nHere, that I too may live but if beyond\\nSuch cool and sorrowful offerings, thou art fond\\nOf soothing warmth, of dalliance supreme\\nIf thou art ripe to taste a long love-dream 440\\nIf smiles, if dimples, tongues for ardour mute,\\nHang in thy vision like a tempting fruit,\\nO let me pluck it for thee Thus she link d\\nHer charming syllables, till indistinct\\nTheir music came to my o er-sweeten d soul\\nAnd then she hover d over me. and stole\\nSo near, that if no nearer it had been\\nThis furrow d visage thou hadst never seen.\\nYoung man of Latmos thus particular\\nAm I, that thou may st plainly see how far 450\\nThis fierce temptation went and thou may st not\\nExclaim, How, then, was Scylla quite forgot\\nWho could resist Who in this universe\\nShe did so breathe ambrosia so immerse\\nMy fioe existence in a golden clime.\\nShe took me like a child of suckling time,\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 147\\nAnd cradled me in roses. Thus condemn d,\\nThe current of my former life was stemm d,\\nAnd to this arbitrary queen of sense\\nI bow d a tranced vassal nor would thence 460\\nHave moved, even though Amphion s harp had\\nwoo d\\nMe back to Scylla o er the billows rude.\\nFor as Apollo each eve doth devise\\nA new apparelling for western skies\\nSo every eve, nay, every spendthrift hour\\nShed balmy consciousness within that bower.\\nAnd I was free of haunts umbrageous\\nCould wander in the mazy forest-house\\nOf squirrels, foxes shy, and antler d deer,\\nAnd birds from coverts innermost and drear 470\\nWarbling for very joy mellifluous sorrow\\nTo me new-born delights\\nNow let me borrow,\\nFor moments few, a temperament as stern\\nAs Pluto s sceptre, that my words not burn\\nThese uttering lips, while I in calm speech tell\\nHow specious heaven was changed to real hell.\\nOne morn she left me sleeping half awake\\nI sought for her smooth arms and lips, to slake\\nMy greedy thirst with nectarous camel- draughts\\nBut she was gone. Whereat the barbed shafts 480\\nOf disappointment stuck in me so sore.\\nThat out I ran and search d the forest o er.\\nWandering about in pine and cedar gloom\\nDamp awe assail d me for there gan to boom\\nA sound of moan, an agony of sound,\\nSepulchral from the distance all around.\\nThen came a conquering earth-thunder, and rumbled\\nThat fierce complain to silence while I stumbled\\nDown a precipitous path,_ as if impell d.\\nI came to a dark valley. Groanings swell d 490", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "148 ENDYMION\\nPoisonous about my ears, and louder grew,\\nThe nearer I approach d a flame s gavint blue,\\nThat glared before me through a thorny brake.\\nThis fire, like the eye of gordian snake,\\nBewitch d me towards and I soon was near\\nA sight too fearful for the feel of fear\\nIn thicket hid I cursed the haggard scene\\nThe banquet of my arms, my arbour queen,\\nSeated upon an uptorn forest root\\nAnd all around her shapes, wizard and brute, 500\\nLaughing, and wailing, grovelling, serpenting,\\nShowing tootii, tusk, and venom-bag, and sting\\nO such deformities old Charon s self.\\nShould he give up awhile his penny pelf\\nAnd take a dream mong rushes Stygian,\\nIt could not be so f antasied. Fierce, wan,\\nAnd tyrannizing was the lady s look,\\nAs over them a gnarled staff she shook.\\nOfttimes upon the sudden she laugh d out.\\nAnd from a basket emptied to the rout 510\\nClusters of grapes, the which they raven d quick\\nAnd roar d for more with many a hungry lick\\nAbout their shaggy jaws. Avenging, slow,\\nAnon she took a branch of mistletoe,\\nAnd emptied on t a black dull-gurgling phial:\\nGroan d one and all, as if some piercing trial\\nWas sharpening for their pitiable bones.\\nShe lifted up the charm appealing groans\\nFrom their poor breasts went sueing to her ear\\nIn vain remorseless as an infant s bier 520\\nShe whisk d against their eyes the sooty oil.\\nWhereat was heard a noise of painful toil,\\nIncreasing gradual to a tempest rage.\\nShrieks, yells, and groans of torture-pilgrimage\\nUntil their grieved bodies gan to bloat\\nAnd puff from the tail s end to stifled throat\\nThen was appalling silence then a sight\\nMore wildering than all that hoarse affright", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 149\\nFor the whole herd, as by a whh-lwind writhen,\\nWent through the dismal air like one huge Python\\nAntagonizing Boreas, and so vauish d. 531\\nYet there was not a breath of wind she banish d\\nThese phantoms with a nod. Lo from the dark\\nCame waggish fauns, and nymphs, and satyrs stark,\\nWith dancing and loud revelry, and went\\nSwifter than centaurs after rapine bent.\\nSighing an elephant appear d and bow d\\nBefore the fierce witch, speaking thus aloud\\nIn human accent Potent goddess chief\\nOf pains resistless make my being brief, 540\\nOr let me from this heavy prison fly\\nOr give me to the air, or let me die\\nI sue not for my happy crown again\\nI sue not for my phalanx on the plain\\nI sue not for my lone, my widow d wife\\nI sue not for my ruddy drops of life,\\nMy children fair, my lovely girls and boys\\nI will forget them I will pass these j oys\\nAsk nought so heavenward, so too too high\\nOnly I pray, as fairest boon, to die, 550\\nOr be deliver d from this cumbrous flesh,\\nFrom this gross, detestable, filthy mesh,\\nAnd merely given to the cold bleak air.\\nHave mercy. Goddess Circe, feel my prayer!\\nThat curst magician s name fell icy numb\\nUpon my wild conjecturing truth had come\\nNaked and sabre-like against my heart.\\nI saw a fury whetting a death-dart\\nAnd my slain spirit, overwrought with fright,\\nFainted away in that dark lair of night. 560\\nThink, my deliverer, how desolate\\nMy waking must have been disgust, and hate,\\nAnd terrors manifold divided me\\nA spoil amongst them. I prepared to flee\\nInto the dungeon core of that wild wood", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "150 ENDYMION\\nI fled three days when lo before me stood\\nGlaring the angry witch. O Dis, even now,\\nA clammy dew is beading on my brow,\\nAt mere remembering her pale laugh, and curse.\\nHa! ha! Sir Dainty there must be a nurse 570\\nMade of rose-leaves and thistle-down, express,\\nTo cradle thee my sweet, and lull thee yes,\\nI am too flinty -hard for thy nice touch\\nMy tenderest squeeze is but a giant s clutch\\nSo, fairy -thing, it shall have lullabies\\nUnheard of yet and it shall still its cries\\nUpon some breast more lily- feminine.\\nOh, no it shall not pine, and pine, and pine\\nMore than one pretty, trifling thousand years\\nAnd then twere pity, but fate s gentle shears 580\\nCut short its immortality. Sea-flirt\\nYoung dove of the waters truly I 11 not hurt\\nOne hair of thine see how I weep and sigh,\\nThat our heart-broken parting is so nigh.\\nAnd must we part Ah, yes, it must be so.\\nYet ere thou leavest me in utter woe,\\nLet me sob over thee my last adieus.\\nAnd speak a blessing Mark me thou hast thews\\nImmortal, for thou art of heavenly race\\nBut sucif a love is mine, that here I chase 590\\nEternally away from thee all bloom\\nOf youth, and destine thee towards a tomb.\\nHence shalt thou quickly to the watery vast\\nAnd there, ere many days be overpast,\\nDisabled age shall seize thee and even then\\nThou shalt not go the way of aged men\\nBut live and wither, cripple and still breathe\\nTen hundred years which gone, I then bequeath\\nThy fragile bones to unknown burial.\\nAdieu, sweet love, adieu As shot stars fall, 600\\nShe fled ere I could groan for mercy. Stung\\nAnd poisoned was my spirit despair sung\\nA war-song of defiance gainst all hell.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 151\\nA hand was at my shoulder to compel\\nMy sullen steps another fore my eyes\\nMoved on with pointed finger. In this guise\\nEnforced, at the last by ocean s foam\\nI found me by my fresh, my native home.\\nIts tempering coolness, to my life akin,\\nCame salutary as I waded in 610\\nAnd with a blind voluptuous rage, I gave\\nBattle to the swollen billow-ridge, and drave\\nLarge froth before me, while yet there remain d\\nHale strength, nor from my bones all marrow\\ndrain d.\\nYoung lover, I must weep such hellish spite\\nWith dry cheek who can tell While thus my\\nmight\\nProving upon this element, dismay d,\\nUpon a dead thing s face my hand I laid\\nI look d t was Scylla Cursed, cursed Circe\\nvulture- witch, hast never heard of mercy 620\\nCould not thy harshest vengeance be content,\\nBut thou must nip this tender innocent\\nBecause I lov d her Cold, O cold indeed\\nWere her fair limbs, and like a common weed\\nThe sea-swell took her hair. Dead as she was\\n1 clung about her waist, nor ceased to pass\\nFleet as an arrow through unfathom d brine,\\nUntil there shone a fabric crystalline,\\nRibb d and inlaid with coral, pebble, and pearl.\\nHeadlong I darted at one eager swirl 630\\nGain d its bright portal, enter d, and behold\\nT was vast, and desolate, and icy-cold\\nAnd all around But wherefore this to thee\\nWho in few minutes more thyself shalt see\\nI left poor Scylla in a niche and fled.\\nMy fever d parchings up, my scathing dread\\nMet palsy half way soon these limbs became\\nGaunt, wither d, sapless, feeble, cramp d, and lame.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "152 ENDYMION\\nNow let me pass a cruel, cruel space,\\nWithout one hope, without one faintest trace 640\\nOf mitigation, or redeeming bubble\\nOf colour d phantasy for I fear t would trouble\\nThy brain to loss of reason and next tell\\nHow a restoring chance came down to quell\\nOne half of the witch in me.\\nOn a day,\\nSitting upon a rock above the spray,\\nI saw grow up from the horizon s brink\\nA gallant vessel soon she seem d to sink\\nAway from me again, as though her course\\nHad been resumed in spite of hindering force 650\\nSo vanish d: and not long, before arose\\nDark clouds, and muttering of winds morose.\\nOld ^olus would stifle his mad spfleen,\\nBut could not therefore, all the billows green\\nToss d up the silver spume against the clouds.\\nThe tempest came I saw that vessel s shrouds\\nIn perilous bustle while upon the deck\\nStood trembling creatures. I beheld the wreck\\nThe final gulfing the poor struggling souls\\nI heard their cries amid loud thunder-rolls. 660\\nthey had all been saved but crazed eld\\nAnnull d my vigorous cravings and thus quell d\\nAnd curb d, think on t, O Latmian! did I sit\\nWrithing with pity, and a cursing fit\\nAgainst that hell-born Circe. The crew had gone\\nBy one and one, to pale oblivion\\nAnd I was gazing on the surges prone,\\nWith many a scalding tear, and many a groan,\\nWhen at my feet emerged an old man s hand,\\nGrasping this scroll, and this same slender wand. 670\\n1 knelt with pain reach d out my hand had\\ngrasp d\\nThese treasures touch d the knuckles they un-\\nclasp d\\nI\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 153\\nI caught a finger but the downward weight\\nO erpower d me it sank. Then gan abate\\nThe storm, and through chill aguish gloom out-\\nburst\\nThe comfortable sun. I was athirst\\nTo search the book, and in the warming air\\nParted its dripping leaves with eager care.\\nStrange matters did it treat of, and drew on\\nMy soul page after page, till well nigh won 680\\nInto forgetfulness when, stupefied,\\nI read these words, and read again, and tried\\nMy eyes against the heavens, and read again.\\nO what a load of misery and pain\\nEach Atlas-line bore off a shine of hope\\nCame gold around me, cheering me to cope\\nStrenuous with hellish tyranny. Attend\\nFor thou hast brought their promise to an end.\\nIn the wide sea tliere lives a forlorn wretch,\\nDoom d with enfeebled carcase to outstretch 690\\nHis loath d existence through ten centuries,\\nAnd then to die alone. Who can devise\\nA total opposition No one. So\\nOne million times ocean must ebb and flow.\\nAnd he oppressed. Yet he shall not die,\\nThese things accomplish d If he utterly\\nScans all the depths of magic, and expounds\\nThe meanings of all motions, shapes, and sounds\\nIf he explores all forms and substances\\nStraight homeward to their symbol-essences 700\\nHe shall not die. Moreover, and in chief\\nHe must pursue this task of joy and grief\\nMost piously all lovers tempest-tost,\\nAnd in the savage overtchelming lost.\\nHe shall deposit side by side, until\\nTime s creeping shall the dreary space fulfil\\nWhich done, and all these labours ripened,\\nA youth, by heavenly power loved and led.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "154 ENDYMION\\nShall stmid before Mm tchom he shall direct\\nHow to consummate all. The youth elect 710\\nMust do the thing, or both will be destroyed.\\nThen, cried the young Endymion, overjoy d,\\nWe are twin brothers in this destiny\\nSay, I entreat thee, what achievement high\\nIs, in this restless world, for me reserved.\\nWhat! if from thee my wandering feet had\\nswerved,\\nHad we both perish d Look the sage replied,\\nDost thou not mark a gleaming through the tide,\\nOf divers brilliances t is the edifice\\nI told thee of, where lovely Scylla lies 720\\nAnd where I have enshrined piously\\nAll lovers, whom fell storms have doom d to die\\nThroughout my bondage. Thus discoursing, on\\nThey went till unobscured the porches shone\\nWhich hurryingly they gain d, and enter d straight.\\nSure never since king Neptune held his state\\nWas seen such wonder underneath the stars.\\nTurn to some level plain where haughty Mars\\nHas legion d all his battle and behold\\nHow every soldier, with firm foot, doth hold 730\\nHis even breast see, many steeled squares,\\nAnd rigid ranks of iron whence who dares\\nOne step Imagine further, line by line.\\nThese warrior thousands on the field supine\\nSo in that crystal place, in silent rows.\\nPoor lovers lay at rest from joys and woes.\\nThe stranger from the mountains, breathless, traced\\nSuch thousands of shut eyes in order placed\\nSuch ranges of white feet, and patient lips\\nAll ruddy, for here death no blossom nips, 740\\nHe mark d their brows and foreheads saw their hair\\nPut sleekly on one side with nicest care\\nAnd each one s gentle wrists, with reverence,\\nPut cross-wise to its heart.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 155\\nLet us commence,\\nWhisper d the guide, stuttering with joy, even\\nnow.\\nHe spake, and, trembling like an aspen-bough,\\nBegan to tear his scroll in pieces small.\\nUttering the while some mumblings funeral.\\nHe tore it into pieces small as snow\\nThat drifts unf eather d when bleak northerns blow\\nAnd having done it, took his dark blue cloak 751\\nAnd bound it round Endymion then struck\\nHis wand against the empty air times nine.\\nWhat more there is to do, young man, is thine\\nBut first a little patience first undo\\nThis tangled thread, and wind it to a clue.\\nAh, gentle t is as weak as spider s skein\\nAnd should st thou break it What, is it done so\\nclean\\nA power overshadows thee Oh, brave!\\nThe spite of hell is tumbling to its grave. 760\\nHere is a shell t is pearly blank to me,\\nNor mark d with any sign or charactery\\nCanst thou read aught O read for pity s sake\\nOlympus we are safe Now, Carian, break\\nThis wand against yon lyre on the pedestal.\\nT was done and straight with sudden swell and\\nfall\\nSweet music breathed her soul away, and sigh d\\nA lullaby to silence. Youth now strew\\nThese minced leaves on me, and passing through\\nThose files of dead, scatter the same around, 770\\nAnd thou wilt see the issue. Mid the sound\\nOf flutes and viols, ravishing his heart,\\nEndymion from Glaucus stood apart,\\nAnd scatter d in his face some fragments light.\\nHow lightning-swift the change a youthful wight\\nSmiling beneath a coral diadem.\\nOut-sparkling sudden like an upturn d gem,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "156 ENDYMION\\nAppear d, and, stepping to a beauteous corse,\\nKneel d down beside it, and with tenderest force\\nPress d its cold hand, and wept, and Scylla\\nsigh d 780\\nEndymion, with quick hand, the charm applied\\nThe nymph arose he left them to their joy.\\nAnd onward went upon his high employ.\\nShowering those powerful fragments on the dead.\\nAnd, as he pass d, each lifted up its head.\\nAs doth a flower at Apollo s touch.\\nDeath felt it to his inwards t was too much\\nDeath fell a-weeping in his charnel-house.\\nThe Latmian persevered along, and thus\\nAll were reanimated. There arose 790\\nA noise of harmony, pulses and throes\\nOf gladness in the air while many, who\\nHad died in mutual arms devout and true.\\nSprang to each other madly and the rest\\nFelt a high certainty of being blest.\\nThey gazed upon Endymion. Enchantment\\nGrew drunken, and would have its head and bent.\\nDelicious symphonies, like airy flowers,\\nBudded, and swell d, and, full-blown, shed full\\nshowers\\nOf light, soft, unseen leaves of sounds divine. 800\\nThe two deliverers tasted a pure wine\\nOf happiness, from fairy press oozed out.\\nSpeechless they eyed each other, and about\\nThe fair assembly wandered to and fro,\\nDistracted with the richest overflow\\nOf joy that ever pour d from heav n.\\nAway\\nShouted the new born god Follow, and pay\\nOur piety to Neptunus supreme\\nThen Scylla, blushing sweetly from her dream.\\nThey led on first, bent to her meek surprise, 810\\nThrough portal columns of a giant size", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 157\\nInto the vaulted, boundless emerald.\\nJoyous all follow d, as the leader call d,\\nDown marble steps pouring as easily\\nAs hour-glass sand and fast, as you might see\\nSwallows obeying the south summer s call,\\nOr swans upon a gentle waterfall.\\nThus went that beautiful multitude, nor far,\\nEre from among some rocks of glittering spar,\\nJust within k^en, they saw descending thick 820\\nAnother multitude. Whereat more quick\\nMoved either host. On a wide sand they met.\\nAnd of those numbers every eye was wet\\nFor each their old love found. A murmuring rose.\\nLike what was never heard in all the throes\\nOf wind and waters t is past human wit\\nTo tell tis dizziness to think of it.\\nThis mighty consummation made, the host\\nMoved on for many a league and gain d and lost\\nHuge sea-marks vanward swelling in array, 830\\nAnd from the rear diminishing away,\\nTill a faint dawn surprised them. Glaucus cried,\\nBehold behold, the palace of his pride\\nGod Neptune s palaces. With noise increased,\\nThey shoulder d on towards that brightening east.\\nAt every onward step proud domes arose\\nIn prospect, diamond gleams and golden glows\\nOf amber gainst their faces levelling.\\nJoyous, and many as the leaves in spring.\\nStill onward still the splendour gradual swell d. 840\\nRich opal domes were seen, on high upheld\\nBy jasper pillars, letting through their shafts\\nA blush of coral. Copious wonder-draughts\\nEach gazer drank; and deeper drank more near:\\nFor what poor mortals fragment up, as mere\\nAs marble was there lavish, to the vast\\nOf one fair palace, that far, far surpass d.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "158 ENDYMION\\nEven for common bulk, those olden three,\\nMemphis, and Babylon, and Nineveh.\\nAs large, as bright, as colour d as the bow 850\\nOi Iris, when unfading it doth show\\nBeyond a silvery shower, was the arch\\nThrough which this Paphian army took its march.\\nInto the outer courts of Neptune s state\\nWhence could be seen, direct, a golden gate,\\nTo which the leaders sped but not h^f raught\\nEre it burst open swift as fairy thougnt.\\nAnd made those dazzled thousands veil their eyes\\nLike callow eagles at the first sunrise.\\nSoon with an eagle nativeness their gaze 860\\nRipe from hue-golden swoons took all the blaze.\\nAnd then, behold large Neptune on his throne\\nOf emerald deep yet not exalt alone\\nAt his right hand stood winged Love, and on\\nHis left sat smiling Beauty s paragon.\\nFar as the mariner on highest mast\\nCan see all round upon the calmed vast.\\nSo wide was Neptune s hall and as the blue\\nDoth vault the waters, so the waters drew\\nTheir doming curtains, high, magnificent, 870\\nAwed from the throne aloof and when storm\\nrent\\nDisclosed the thunder-gloomings in Jove s air\\nBut soothed as now, flash d sudden everywhere,\\nNoiseless, sub-marine cloudlets, glittering\\nDeath to a human eye for there did spring\\nFrom natural west, and east, and south, and north,\\nA light as of four sunsets, blazing forth\\nA gold-green zenith bove the Sea-God s head.\\nOf lucid depth the floor, and far outspread\\nAs breezeless lake, on which the slim canoe 88\\nOf feather d Indian darts about, as through\\n1", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 159\\nThe delicatest air air verily,\\nBut for the portraiture of clouds and sky\\nThis palace floor breath-air, but for the amaze\\nOf deep-seen wonders motionless, and blaze\\nOf the dome pomp, reflected in extremes,\\nGlobing a golden sphere.\\nThey stood in dreams\\nTill Triton blew his horn. The palace rang\\nThe Nereids danced the Sirens faintly sang\\nAnd the great Sea-King bow d his dripping head.\\nThen Love took wing, and from his pinions shed 891\\nOn all the multitude a nectarous dew.\\nThe ooze-born Goddess beckoned and drew\\nFair Scylla and her guides to conference\\nAnd when they reach d the throned eminence\\nShe kiss d the sea-nymph s cheek, who sat her\\ndown\\nA-toying with the doves. Then, Mighty crown\\nAnd sceptre of this kingdom Venus said,\\nThy vows were on a time to Nais paid\\nBehold Two copious tear-drops instant fell 900\\nFrom the God s large eyes he smiled delectable.\\nAnd over Glaucus held his blessing hands.\\nEndymion Ah still wandering in the bands\\nOf love Now this is cruel. Since the hour\\nI met thee in earth s bosom, all my power\\nHave I put forth to serve thee. What, not yet\\nEscaped from dull mortality s harsh net\\nA little patience, youth twill not be long.\\nOr I am skilless quite an idle tongue,\\nA humid eye, and steps luxurious, 910\\nWhere these are new and strange, are ominous.\\nAye, I have seen these signs in one of heaven,\\nWhen others were all blind and were I given\\nTo utter secrets, haply I might say\\nSome pleasant words but Love will have his day.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "i6o ENDYMION\\nSo wait awhile expectant. Pr ythee soon,\\nEven in the passing of thine honey-moon,\\nVisit thou my Cytherea thon wilt find\\nCupid well-natured, my Adonis kind\\nAnd pra}^ persuade with thee Ah, I have done,\\nAll blisses be upon thee, my sweet son 921\\nThus the fair goddess: while Endymion\\nKnelt to receive those accents halcyon.\\nMeantime a glorious revelry began\\nBefore the water-monarch. Nectar ran\\nIn courteous fountains to all cups out-reach d\\nAnd plunder d vines, teeming exhaustless, pleach d\\nNew growth about each shell and pendent lyre\\nThe which, in disentangling for their fire,\\nPull d down fresh foliage and coverture 930\\nFor dainty toying. Cupid, empire-sure,\\nFlutter d and laugh d, and oft-times through the\\nthrong\\nMade a delighted way. Then dance, and song.\\nAnd garlanding, grew wild and pleasure reign d.\\nIn harmless tendril they each other chain d,\\nAnd strove who should be smother d deepest in\\nFresh crush of leaves.\\nO t is a very sin\\nFor one so weak to venture his poor verse\\nIn such a place as this. O do not curse,\\nHigh Muses let him hurry to the ending. 940\\nAll suddenly were silent. A soft blending\\nOf dulcet instruments came charmingly\\nAnd then a hymn.\\nKing of the stormy sea\\nBrother of Jove, and co-inheritor\\nOf elements Eternally before\\nThee the waves awful bow. Fast, stubborn rock,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD i6i\\nAt thy f ear d trident shrinking, doth unlock\\nIts deep foundations, hissing into foam.\\nAll mountain-rivers, lost in the wide home\\nOf thy capacious bosom, ever flow. 950\\nThou frownest, and old ^olus thy foe\\nSkulks to his cavern, mid the gruff complaint\\nOf all his rebel tempests. Dark clouds faint\\nWhen, from thy diadem, a silver gleam\\nSlants over blue dominion. Thy bright team\\nGulfs in the morning light, and scuds along\\nTo bring thee nearer to that golden song\\nApollo singeth, while his chariot\\nWaits at the doors of heaven. Thou art not\\nFor scenes like this an empire stern hast thou 960\\nAnd it hath furrow d that large front yet now,\\nAs newly come of heaven, dost thou sit\\nTo blend and interknit\\nSubdued majesty with this glad time.\\nO shell-borne King sublime\\nWe lay our hearts before thee evermore\\nWe sing, and we adore\\nBreathe softly, flutes\\nBe tender of your strings, ye soothing lutes\\nNor be the trumpet heard O vain, O vain 970\\nNot flowers budding in an April rain.\\nNor breath of sleeping dove, nor river s flow,\\nNo, nor the ^olian twang of Love s own bow,\\nCan mingle music fit for the soft ear\\nOf goddess Cytherea\\nYet deign, white Queen of Beauty, thy fair eyes\\nOn our soul s sacrifice.\\nBright-winged Child\\nTMio has anotlier care when thou hast smiled\\nUnfortunates on earth, we see at last 980\\nAll death-shadows, and glooms that overcast\\nOur spirits, fann d away by thy light pinions.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "i62 ENDYMION\\nsweetest essence sweetest of all minions\\nGod of warm pulses, and dishevell d hair,\\nAnd panting bosoms bare\\nDear unseen light in darkness eclipser\\nOf light in light delicious poisoner\\nThy venom d goblet will we quaff until\\nWe fill\u00e2\u0080\u0094 we fill!\\nAnd by thy Mother s lips 990\\nWas heard no more\\nFor clamour, when the golden palace door\\nOpen d again, and from without, in shone\\nA new magnificence. On oozy throne\\nSmooth-moving came Oceanus the old.\\nTo take a latest glimpse at his sheepfold.\\nBefore he went into his quiet cave\\nTo muse for ever Then a lucid wave,\\nScoop d from its trembling sisters of mid-sea.\\nAfloat, and pillowing up the majesty\\nOf Doris, and the ^gean seer, her spouse 1000\\nNext, on a dolphin, clad in laurel boughs,\\nTheban Amphion leaning on his lute\\nHis fingers went across it All were mute\\nTo gaze on Amphitrite, queen of pearls,\\nAnd Thetis pearly too.\\nThe palace whirls\\nAround giddy Endymion seeing he\\nWas there far strayed from mortality.\\nHe could not bear it shut his eyes in vain\\nImagination gave a dizzier pain.\\nO I shall die sweet Venus, be my stay loio\\nWhere is my lovely mistress Wellaway\\n1 die I hear her voice I feel my wing\\nAt Neptune s feet he sank. A sudden ring\\nOf Nereids were about him, in kind strife\\nTo usher back his spirit into life\\nBut still he slept. At last they interwove\\nI", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 163\\nTheir cradling arms, and purposed to convey\\nTowards a crystal bower far away.\\nLo while slow carried through the pitying\\ncrowd,\\nTo his inward senses these words spake aloud 1020\\nWritten in starlight on the dark above\\nDearest Endymion my entire love\\nHow have I dwelt in fear of fate t is done\\nImmortal bliss for me too hast thou won.\\nArise then for the hen-dove shall not hatch\\nHer ready eggs, before I ll kissing snatch\\nThee into endless heaven. Awake awake\\nThe youth at once arose a placid lake\\nCame quiet to his eyes and forest green,\\nCooler than all the wonders he had seen, 1030\\nLuH d with its simple song his fluttering breast.\\nHow happy once again in grassy nest\\nBOOK IV\\nMuse of my native land loftiest Muse\\nO first-born on the mountains by the hues\\nOf heaven on the spiritual air begot\\nLong didst thou sit alone in northern grot,\\nWhile yet our England was a wolfish den\\nBefore our forests heard the talk of men\\nBefore the first of Druids was a child\\nLong didst thou sit amid our regions wild.\\nRapt in a deep prophetic solitude.\\nThere came an eastern voice of solemn mood 1\\nYet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine,\\nApollo s garland yet didst thou divine\\nSuch home-bred glory, that they cried in vain,\\nCome hither, Sister of the Island 1 Plain\\nSpake fair xlusonia and once more she spake\\nA higher summons still didst thou betake", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "i64 ENDYMION\\nThee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won\\nA full accomplishment The thing is done,\\nWhich undone, these our latter days had risen\\nOn barren souls. Great Muse, thou know st what\\nprison 20\\nOf flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets\\nOur spirits wings despondency besets\\nOur pillows and the fresh to-morrow morn\\nSeems to give forth its light in very scorn\\nOf our dull, uninspired, snail-paced lives.\\nLong have I said, how happy he who slirives\\nTo thee But then I thought on poets gone,\\nAnd could not pray nor can I now so on\\nI move to the end in lowliness of heart.\\nAh, woe is me that I should fondly part 30\\nFrom my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid!\\nGlad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade\\nAdieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields!\\nTo one so friendless the clear freshet yields\\nA bitter coolness the ripe grape is sour\\nYet I would have, great gods but one short hour\\nOf native air let me but die at home.\\nEndymion to heaven s airy dome\\nWas offering up a hecatomb of vows,\\nWhen these words reach d him. Whereupon he\\nbows 40\\nHis head through thorny-green entanglement\\nOf underwood, and to the sound is bent,\\nAnxious as hind towards her hidden fawn.\\nIs no one near to help me No fair dawn\\nOf life from charitable voice No sweet saying\\nTo set my dull and sadden d spirit playing\\nNo hand to toy with mine No lips so sweet\\nThat I may worship them No eyelids meet\\nTo twinkle on my bosom No one dies", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 165\\nBefore me, till from these enslaving eyes 50\\nRedemption sparkles I am sad and lost.\\nThou, Carian lord, hadst better have been tost\\nInto a whirlpool. Vanish into air.\\nWarm mountaineer for canst thou only bear\\nA woman s sigh alone and in distress\\nSee not her charms Is Phoebe passionless\\nPhoebe is fairer far O gaze no more\\nYet if thou wilt behold all beauty s store,\\nBehold her panting in the forest grass\\nDo not those curls of glossy jet surpass 60\\nFor tenderness the arms so idly lain\\nAmongst them Feelest not a kindred pain,\\nTo see such lovely eyes in swimming search\\nAfter some warm delight, that seems to perch\\nDovelike in the dim cell lying beyond\\nTheir upper lids Hist\\nO for Hermes wand.\\nTo touch this flower into human shape\\nThat woodland Hyacinthus could escape\\nFrom his green prison, and here kneeling down\\nCall me his queen, his second life s fair crown 70\\nAh me, how I could love My soul doth melt\\nFor the unhappy youth Love I have felt\\nSo faint a kindness, such a meek surrender\\nTo what my own full thoughts had made too tender.\\nThat but for tears my life had fled away\\nYe deaf and senseless minutes of the day,\\nAnd thou, old forest, hold ye this for true,\\nThere is no lightning, no authentic dew\\nBut in the eye of love there s not a sound.\\nMelodious howsoever, can confound So\\nThe heavens and earth in one to such a death\\nAs doth the voice of love there s not a breath\\nWill mingle kindly with the meadow air.\\nTill it has panted round, and stolen a share\\nOf passion from the heart", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "i66 ENDYMION\\nUpon a bough\\nHe leant, wretched. He surely cannot now\\nThirst for another love O impious,\\nThat he can even dream upon it thus\\nThought he, Why am I not as are the dead,\\nSince to a woe like this I have been led 90\\nThrough the dark earth, and through the wondrous\\nsea\\nGoddess I love thee not the less from thee\\nBy Juno s smile I turn not no, no, no\\nWhile the great waters are at ebb and flow.\\nI have a triple soul O fond pretence\\nFor both, for both my love is so immense,\\nI feel my heart is cut for them in twain.\\nAnd so he groan d, as one by beauty slain.\\nThe lady s heart beat quick, and he could see\\nHer gentle bosom heave tumultuously, 100\\nHe sprang from his green covert there she lay.\\nSweet as a musk-rose upon new-made hay\\nWith all her limbs on tremble, and her eyes\\nShut softly up alive. To speak he tries\\nFair damsel, pity me forgive that I\\nThus violate thy bower s sanctity\\npardon me, for I am full of grief\\nGrief born of thee, young angel! fairest thief!\\nWho stolen hast away the wings wherewith\\n1 was to top the heavens. Dear maid, sith no\\nThou art my executioner, and I feel\\nLoving and hatred, misery and weal,\\nWill in a fcAv short hours be nothing to me,\\nAnd all my story that much passion slew me\\nDo smile upon the evening of my days\\nAnd, for my tortured brain begins to craze,\\nBe thou my nurse and let me understand\\nHow dying I shall kiss that lily hand.\\nDost weep for me Then should I be content.\\nScowl on, ye fates 1 until the firmament 120", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 167\\nOutblackens Erebus, and the full-cavern d earth\\nCrumbles into itself. By the cloud-girth\\nOf Jove, those tears have given me a thirst\\nTo meet oblivion. As her heart would burst\\nThe maiden sobb d awhile, and then replied\\nWhy must such desolation betide\\nAs that thou speakest of Are not these green\\nnooks\\nEmpty of all misfortune Do the brooks\\nUtter a gorgon voice Does yonder thrush,\\nSchooling \u00c2\u00abits half-fledged little ones to brush 130\\nAbout the dewy forest, whisper tales\\nSpeak not of grief, young stranger, or cold snails\\nWill slime the rose to-night. Though if thou wilt,\\nMethinks t would be a guilt a very guilt\\nNot to companion thee, and sigh away\\nThe light the dusk the dark till break of\\nday!\\nDear lady, said Endymion, t is past\\nI love thee and my days can never last.\\nThat I may pass in patience still speak\\nLet me have music dying, and I seek 140\\nNo more delight I bid adieu to all.\\nDidst thou not after other climates call,\\nAnd murmur about Indian streams Then she,\\nSitting beneath the midmost forest tree.\\nFor pity sang this roundelay\\nO Sorrow,\\nWhy dost borrow\\nThe natural hue of health, from vermeil lips\\nTo give maiden blushes\\nTo the white rose bushes iso\\nOr is t thy dewy hand the daisy tips\\nO Sorrow,\\nWhy dost borrow\\nThe lustrous passion from a falcon-eye", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "i68 ENDYMION\\nTo give the glowworm light\\nOr, on a moonless night,\\nTo tinge, on siren shores, the salt sea-spry\\nO Sorrow,\\nWhy dost borrow\\nThe mellow ditties from a mourning tongue i6o\\nTo give at evening pale\\nUnto the nightingale,\\nThat thou mayst listen the cold dews among\\nO Sorrow,\\nWhy dost borrow\\nHeart s lightness from the merriment of May\\nA lover would not tread\\nA cowslip on the head,\\nThough he should dance from eve till peep of\\nday\\nNor any drooping flower 170\\nHeld sacred for thy bower.\\nWherever he may sport himself and play.\\nTo Sorrow,\\nI bade good morrow.\\nAnd thought to leave her far away behind\\nBut cheerly, cheerly,\\nShe loves me dearly\\nShe is so constant to me, and so kind\\nI would deceive her,\\nAnd so leave her, 180\\nBut ah she is so constant and so kind.\\nBeneath my palm-trees, by the river side\\nI sat a-weeping in the whole world wide\\nThere was no one to ask me why I wept,\\nAnd so I kept\\nBrimming the water-lily cups with tears\\nCold as my fears.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 169\\nBeneath my palm-trees, by the river side,\\nI sat a- weeping what enamour d bride.\\nCheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds, 190\\nBut hides and shrouds\\nBeneath dark palm-trees by a river side\\nAnd as I sat, over the light blue hills\\nThere came a noise of revellers the rills\\nInto the wide stream came of purple hue\\nT was Bacchus and his crew\\nThe earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills\\nFrom kissing cymbals made a merry din\\nT was Bacchus and his kin\\nLike to a moving vintage down they came, 200\\nCrown d with green leaves, and faces all on flame\\nAll madly dancing through the pleasant valley,\\nTo scare thee. Melancholy\\nO then, O then, thou wast a simple name\\nAnd I forgot thee, as the berried holly\\nBy shepherds is forgotten, when, in June,\\nTall chestnuts keep away the sun and moon\\nI rush d into the folly\\nWithin his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood,\\nTrifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood, 210\\nWith sidelong laughing\\nAnd little rills of crimson wine imbrued\\nHis plump white arms, and shoulders, enough white\\nFor Venus pearly bite\\nAnd near him rode Silenus on his ass,\\nPelted with flowers as he on did pass\\nTipsily quaflSng.\\nWhence came ye, merry Damsels whence came ye\\nSo many, and so many, and such glee\\nWhy have ye left your bowers desolate, 220\\nYour lutes, and gentler fate", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "I70 ENDYMION\\nWe follow Bacchus Bacchus on the wing,\\nA conquering\\nBacchus, young Bacchus good or ill betide,\\nWe dance before him thorough kingdoms wide\\nCome hither, lady fair, and joined be\\nTo our wild minstrelsy\\nWhence came ye, jolly Satyrs whence came ye,\\nSo many, and so many, and such glee\\nWhy have ye left your forest haunts, why left 230\\nYour nuts in oak-tree cleft\\nFor wine, for wine we left our kernel tree\\nFor wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms,\\nAnd cold mushrooms\\nFor wine we follow Bacchus through the earth\\nGreat god of breathless cups and chirping mirth\\nCome hither, lady fair, and joined be\\nTo our mad minstrelsy\\nOver wide streams and mountains great we went.\\nAnd, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent, 240\\nOnward the tiger and the leopard pants,\\nWith Asian elephants\\nOnward these myriads with song and dance,\\nWith zebras striped, and sleek Arabians prance.\\nWeb-footed alligators, crocodiles.\\nBearing upon their scaly backs, in files.\\nPlump infant laughers mimicking the coil\\nOf seamen, and stout galley-rowers toil\\nWith toying oars and silken sails they glide,\\nNor care for wind and tide. 250\\nMounted on panthers furs and lions manes,\\nFrom rear to van they scour about the plains\\nA three days j ourney in a moment done\\nAnd always, at the rising of the sun,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 171\\nAbout the wilds they hunt with spear and horn,\\nOn spleenful unicorn.\\nI saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown\\nBefore the vine-wreath crown\\nI saw parch d Abyssinia rouse and sing\\nTo the silver cymbals ring 260\\nI saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce\\nOld Tartary the fierce\\nThe Kings of Inde their jewel-sceptres vail,\\nAnd from their treasures scatter pearled hail\\nGreat Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,\\nAnd all his priesthood moans\\nBefore young Bacchus eye-wink turning pale,\\nInto these regions came I following him.\\nSick-hearted, weary so I took a whim\\nTo stray away into these forests drear 270\\nAlone, without a peer\\nAnd I have told thee all thou mayest hear.\\nYoung Stranger\\nI ve been a ranger\\nIn search of pleasure throughout every clime\\nAlas, t is not for me\\nBewitch d I sure must be.\\nTo lose in grieving all my maiden prime.\\nCome then, Sorrow\\nSweetest Sorrow 280\\nLike an own babe I nurse thee on my breast\\nI thought to leave thee\\nAnd deceive thee.\\nBut now of all the world I love thee best.\\nThere is not one,\\nNo, no, not one\\nBut thee to comfort a poor lonely maid", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "172 ENDYMION\\nThou art her mother,\\nAnd her brother,\\nHer playmate, and her wooer in the shade. 290\\nO what a sigh she gave in finishing,\\nAnd look, quite dead to every wordly thing\\nEndymion could not speak, but gazed on her\\nAnd listened to the wind that now did stir\\nAbout the crisped oaks full drearily.\\nYet with as sweet a softness as might be\\nRemember d from its velvet summer song.\\nAt last he said Poor lady, how thus long\\nHave I been able to endure that voice\\nFair Melody kind Siren I ve no choice 300\\nI must be thy sad servant evermore\\nI cannot choose but kneel here and adore.\\nAlas, I must not think by Phoebe, no\\nLet me not think, soft Angel shall it be so\\nSay, beautif ullest, shall I never think\\nO thou couldst foster me beyond the brink\\nOf recollection make my watchful care\\nClose up its bloodshot eyes, nor see despair\\nDo gently murder half my soul, and I\\nShall feel the other half so utterly 310\\nI m giddy at that cheek so fair and smooth\\nO let it blush so ever let it soothe\\nMy madness let it mantle rosy-warm\\nWith the tinge of love, panting in safe alarm.\\nThis cannot be thy hand, and yet it is\\nAnd this is sure thine other sof tling this\\nThine own fair bosom, and I am so near!\\nWilt fall asleep O let me sip that tear\\nAnd whisper one sweet word that I may know 319\\nThis is this world sweet dewy blossom Woe\\nWoe looe to that Endymion Where is he\\nEven these words went echoing dismally\\nThrough the wide forest a most fearful tone,\\nLike one repenting in his latest moan", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 173\\nAnd while it died away a shade pass d by,\\nAs of a thundercloud. When arrows fly\\nThrough the thick branches, poor ringdoves sleek\\nforth\\nTheir timid necks and tremble so these both\\nLeant to each other trembling, and sat so\\nWaiting for some destruction when lo 330\\nFoot-feather d Mercury appear d sublime\\nBeyond the tall tree tops and in less time\\nThan shoots the slanted hail-storm, down he dropt\\nTowards the ground but rested not, nor stopt\\nOne moment from his home only the sward\\nHe with his wand light touch d, and heavenward\\nSwifter than sight was gone even before\\nThe teeming earth a sudden witness bore\\nOf his swift magic. Diving swans appear\\nAbove the crystal circlings white and clear 340\\nAnd catch the cheated eye in wild surprise,\\nHow they can dive in sight and unseen rise\\nSo from the turf outsprang two steeds jet-black,\\nEach with large dark blue wings upon his back.\\nThe youth of Caria placed the lovely dame\\nOn one, and felt himself in spleen to tame\\nThe other s fierceness. Through the air they flew.\\nHigh as the eagles. Like two drops of dew\\nExhaled to Phcebus lips, away they are gone,\\nFar from the earth away unseen, alone, 350\\nAmong cool clouds and winds, but that the free,\\nThe buoyant life of song can floating be\\nAbove their heads, and follow them untired.\\nMuse of my native land, am I inspired\\nThis is the giddy air, and I must spread\\nWide pinions to keep here nor do I dread\\nOr height, or depth, or width, or any chance\\nPrecipitous I have beneath my glance\\nThose towering horses and their mournful freight.\\nCould I thus sail, and see, and thus await 360\\nFearless for power of thought, without thine aid", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "174 ENDYMION\\nThere is a sleepy dusk, an odorous shade\\nFrom some approaching wonder, and behold\\nThose winged steeds, with snorting nostrils bold\\nSnuff at its faint extreme, and seem to tire,\\nDying to embers from their native fire\\nThere curl d a purple mist around them soon,\\nIt seem d as when around the pale new moon\\nSad Zephyr droops the clouds like weeping wil-\\nlow\\nT was Sleep slow journeying with head on pillow\\nFor the first time, since he came nigh dead-born 371\\nFrom the old womb of night, his cave forlorn\\nHad he left more forlorn for the first time,\\nHe felt aloof the day and morning s prime\\nBecause into his depth Cimmerian\\nThere came a dream, showing how a young man,\\nEre a lean bat could plump its wintery skin,\\nWould at high Jove s empyreal footstool win\\nAn immortality, and how espouse\\nJove s daughter, and be reckon d of his house. 380\\nNow was he slumbering towards heaven s gate,\\nThat he might at the threshold one hour wait\\nTo hear the marriage melodies, and then\\nSink downward to his dusky cave again.\\nHis litter of smooth semilucent mist,\\nDiversely tinged with rose and amethyst.\\nPuzzled those eyes that for the centre sought\\nAnd scarcely for one moment could be caught\\nHis sluggish form reposing motionless.\\nThose two on winged steeds, with all the stress 390\\nOf vision search d for him, as one would look\\nAthwart the sallows of a river nook\\nTo catch a glance at silver- throated eels,\\nOr from old Skiddaw s top, when fog conceals\\nHis rugged forehead in a mantle pale.\\nWith an eye-guess towards some pleasant vale\\nDescry a favourite hamlet faint and far.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 175\\nThese raven horses, though they foster d are\\nOf earth s splenetic fire, dully drop 399\\nTheir fuU-vein d ears, nostrils blood wide, and stop\\nUpon the spiritless mist have they outspread\\nTheir ample feathers, are in slumber dead,\\nAnd on those pinions, level in mid air,\\nEndymion sleepeth and the lady fair.\\nSlowly they sail, slowly as icy isle\\nUpon a calm sea drifting and meanwhile\\nThe mournful wanderer dreams. Behold he walks\\nOn heaven s pavement brotherly he talks\\nTo divine powers from his hand full fain\\nJuno s proud birds are pecking pearly grain 410\\nHe tries the nerve of Phoebus golden bow,\\nAnd asketh where the golden apples grow\\nUpon his arm he braces Pallas shield.\\nAnd strives in vain to unsettle and to wield\\nA Jovian thunderbolt arch Hebe brings\\nA full-brimm d goblet, dances lightly, sings\\nAnd tantalizes long at last he drinks,\\nAnd lost in pleasure, at her feet he sinks,\\nTouching with dazzled lips her starlight hand.\\nHe blows a bugle, an ethereal band 420\\nAre visible above the Seasons four,\\nGreen-kirtled Spring, flush Summer, golden store\\nIn Autumn s sickle. Winter frosty hoar.\\nJoin dance with shadowy Hours while still the\\nblast.\\nIn swells unmitigated, still doth last\\nTo sway their floating morris. Whose is this\\nWhose bugle he inquires they smile O Dis\\nWhy is this mortal here Dost thou not know\\nIts mistress lips Not thou T is Dian s lo\\nShe rises crescented He looks, t is she, 430\\nHis very goddess good-bye earth, and sea,\\nAnd air, and pains, and care, and suffering\\nGood-bye to all but love Then doth he spring\\nTowards her, and awakes and, strange, o erhead,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "176 ENDYMION\\nOf those same fragrant exhalations bred,\\nBeheld awake his very dream the gods\\nStood smiling merry Hebe laughs and nods\\nAnd Phoebe bends towards him crescented.\\nstate perplexing On the pinion bed,\\nToo well awake, he feels the panting side 440\\nOf his delicious lady. He who died\\nFor soaring too audacious in the sun,\\nWhen that same treacherous wax began to run,\\nFelt not more tongue-tied than Endymion.\\nHis heart leapt up as to its rightful throne,\\nTo that fair-shadow d passion pulsed its way\\nAh, what perplexity Ah, well a day\\nSo fond, so beauteous was his bed-fellow,\\nHe could not help but kiss her then he grew\\nAwhile forgetful of all beauty save 450\\nYoung Phoebe s, golden-hair d and so gan crave\\nForgiveness yet he turn d once more to look\\nAt the sweet sleeper, all his soul was shook,\\nShe press d his hand in slumber so once more\\nHe could not help but kiss her and adore.\\nAt this the shadow wept, melting away.\\nThe Latmian started up Bright goddess, stay\\nSearch my most hidden breast! By truth s own\\ntongue,\\n1 have no daedale heart why is it wrung\\nTo desperation Is there nought for me, 460\\nUpon the bourne of bliss, but misery\\nThese words awoke the stranger of dark tresses\\nHer dawning love-look rapt Endymion blesses\\nWith haviour soft. Sleep yawn d from underneath,\\nThou swan of Ganges, let us no more breathe\\nThis murky phantasm thou contented seem st\\nPillow d in lovely idleness, nor dream st\\nWhat horrors may discomfort thee and me.\\nAh, shouldst thou die from my heart-treachery\\nYet did she merely weep her gentle soul 471", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 177\\nHath no revenge in it as it is whole\\nIn tenderness, would I were whole in love\\nCan I prize thee, fair maid, all price above,\\nEven when I feel as true as innocence\\nI do, I do. What is this soul then Whence\\nCame it It does not seem my own, and I\\nHave no self -passion or identity.\\nSome fearful end must be where, where is it\\nBy Nemesis, I see my spirit flit\\nAlone about the dark Forgive me, sweet 480\\nShall we away He roused the steeds they beat\\nTheir wings chivalrous into the clear air,\\nLeaving old Sleep within his vapoury lair.\\nThe good-night blush of eve was waning slow,\\nAnd Vesper, risen star, began to throe\\nIn the dusk heavens silv^y, when they\\nThus sprang direct towards the Galaxy.\\nNor did speed hinder converse soft and strange\\nEternal oaths and vows they interchange,\\nIn such wise, in such temper, so aloof 490\\nUp in the winds, beneath a starry roof,\\nSo witless of their doom, that verily\\nTis well nigh past man s search their hearts to\\nsee\\nWhether they wept, or laugh d or grieved or toy d\\nMost like with joy gone mad, with sorrow cloy d.\\nFull facing their swift flight, from ebon streak,\\nThe moon put forth a little diamond peak,\\nNo bigger than an unobserved star,\\nOn tiny point of fairy scimetar\\nBright signal that she only stoop d to tie 500\\nHer silver sandals, ere deliciously\\nShe bow d into the heavens her timid head.\\nSlowly she rose, as though she would have fled,\\nWhile to his lady meek the Carian turn d.\\nTo mark if her dark eyes had yet discern d", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "178 ENDYMION\\nThis beauty in its birth Despair despair 1\\nHe saw her body fading gaunt and spare\\nIn the cold moonshine. Straight he seized her\\nwrist\\nIt melted from his grasp her hand he kiss d,\\nAnd, horror kiss d his own he was alone. 510\\nHer steed a little higher soar d and then\\nDropt hawk- wise to the earth.\\nThere lies a den,\\nBeyond the seeming confines of the space\\nMade for the soul to wander in and trace\\nIts own existence, of remotest glooms.\\nDark regions are around it, where the tombs\\nOf buried griefs the spirit sees, but scarce\\nOne hour doth linger weeping, for the pierce\\nOf new-born woe it feels more inly smart\\nAnd in these regions many a venom d dart 520\\nAt random flies they are the proper home\\nOf every ill the man is yet to come\\nWho hath not journey d in this native hell.\\nBut few have ever felt how calm and well\\nSleep may be had in that deep den of all.\\nThere anguish does not sting, nor pleasure pall\\nWoe-hurricanes beat ever at the gate.\\nYet all is still within and desolate.\\nBeset with painful gusts, within ye hear\\nNo sound so loud as when on curtain d bier 530\\nThe death-watch tick is stifled. Enter none\\nWho strive therefor on the sudden it is won.\\nJust when the sufferer begins to burn,\\nThen it is free to him and from an urn.\\nStill fed by melting ice, he takes a draught\\nYoung Semele such richness never quaff d\\nIn her maternal longing. Happy gloom\\nDark Paradise where pale becomes the bloom\\nOf health by due where silence dreariest\\nIs most articulate where hopes infest 540", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 179\\nWhere those eyes are the brightest far that keep\\nTheir lids shut longest in a dreamless sleep.\\nO happy spirit-home O wondrous soul\\nPregnant with such a den to save the whole\\nIn thine own depth. Hail, gentle Carian\\nFor, never since thy griefs and woes began,\\nHast thou felt so content a grievous feud\\nHath led thee to this Cave of Quietude.\\nAye, his lull d soul was there, although upborne,\\nWith dangerous speed and so he did not mourn 550\\nBecause he knew not whither he was going.\\nSo happy was he, not the aerial blowing\\nOf trumpets at clear parley from the east\\nCould rouse from that fine relish, that high feast.\\nThey stung the feather d horse with fierce alarm\\nHe flapp d towards the sound. Alas, no charm\\nCould lift Endymion s head, or he had view d\\nA skyey mask, a pinion d multitude,\\nAnd silvery was its passing voices sweet\\nWarbling the while as if to lull and greet 560\\nThe wanderer in his path. Thus warbled they.\\nWhile past the vision went in bright array.\\nWho, who from Dian s feast would be away\\nFor all the golden bowers of the day\\nAre empty left Who, who away would be\\nFrom Cynthia s wedding and festivity\\nNot Hesperus lo upon his silver wings\\nHe leans away for highest heaven and sings,\\nSnapping his lucid fingers merrily\\nAh, Zephyrus art here, and Flora too 570\\nYe tender bibbers of the rain and dew.\\nYoung playmates of the rose and daffodil.\\nBe careful, ere ye enter in, to fill\\nYour baskets high\\nWith fennel green, and balm, and golden pines,\\nSavory, latter-mint, and columbines,\\nCool parsley, basil sweet, and sunny thyme", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "i8o ENDYMION\\nYea, every flower and leaf of every clime,\\nAll gather d in the dewy morning Me\\nAway fly, fly 580\\nCrystalline brother of the belt of heaven,\\nAquarius to whom king Jove has given\\nTwo liquid pulse streams stead of feather d wings.\\nTwo fanlike fountains, thine illuminings\\nFor Dian play\\nDissolve the frozen purity of air\\nLet thy white shoulders silvery and bare\\nShow cold through watery pinions; make more bright\\nThe Star-Queen s crescent on her marriage night\\nHaste, haste away 59\u00c2\u00b0\\nCastor has tamed the planet Lion, see\\nAnd of the Bear has Pollux mastery\\nA third is in the race who is the third,\\nSpeeding away swift as the eagle bird\\nThe ramping Centaur\\nThe Lion s mane s on end the Bear how fierce\\nThe Centaur s arrow ready seems to pierce\\nSome enemy far forth his bow is bent\\nInto tlie blue of heaven. He 11 be shent.\\nPale unrelentor, 600\\nWhen he shall hear the wedding lutes a-playing.\\nAndromeda sweet woman why delaying\\nSo timidly among the stars come hither\\nJoin this bright throng, and nimbly follow whither\\nThey all are going.\\nDanae s Son, before Jove newly bow d,\\nHas wept for thee, calling to Jove aloud.\\nThee, gentle lady, did he disenthrall\\nYe shall for ever live and love, for all\\nThy tears are flowing. 610\\nBy Daphne s fright, behold Apollo\\nMore\\nEndymion heard not down his steed him bore,\\nProne to the green head of a misty hill.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH i8i\\nHis first touch of the earth went nigh to kill.\\nAlas said he, were I but always borne\\nThrough dangerous winds, had but my footsteps\\nworn\\nA path in hell, for ever would I bless\\nHorrors which nourish an uneasiness\\nFor my own sullen conquering to him\\nWho lives beyond earth s boundary, grief is dim, 620\\nSorrow is but a shadow now I see\\nThe grass I feel the solid ground Ah, me\\nIt is thy voice divinest Where who who\\nLeft thee so quiet on this bed of dew\\nBehold upon this happy earth we are\\nLet us ay love each other let us fare\\nOn forest-fruits, and never, never go\\nAmong the abodes of mortals here below,\\nOr be by phantoms duped. O destiny\\nInto a labyrinth now my soul would fly, 630\\nBut with thy beauty will I deaden it.\\nWhere didst thou melt to By thee will I sit\\nFor ever let our fate stop here a kid\\nI on this spot will offer Pan will bid\\nUs live in peace, in love and peace among\\nHis forest wildernesses. I have clung\\nTo nothing, loved a nothing, nothing seen\\nOr felt but a great dream Oh, I have been\\nPresumptuous against love, against the sky.\\nAgainst all elements, against the tie 640\\nOf mortals each to each, against the blooms\\nOf flowers, rush of rivers, and the tombs\\nOf heroes gone Against his proper glory\\nHas my own soul conspired so my story\\nWill I to children utter, and repent.\\nThere never lived a mortal man, who bent\\nHis appetite beyond his natural sphere.\\nBut starved and died. My sweetest Indian, here,\\nHere will I kneel, for thou redeemed hast", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "i82 ENDYMION\\nMy life from too thin breathing gone and past 650\\nAre cloudy phantasms. Caverns lone, farewell\\nAnd air of visions, and the monstrous swell\\nOf visionary seas No, never more\\nShall airy voices cheat me to the shore\\nOf tangled wonder, breathless and aghast.\\nAdieu, my daintiest Dream although so vast\\nMy love is still for thee. The hour may come\\nWhen we shall meet in pure elysium.\\nOn earth I may not love thee and therefore\\nDoves will I offer up, and sweetest store 660\\nAll through the teeming year so thou wilt shine\\nOn me, and on this damsel fair of mine.\\nAnd bless our simple lives. My Indian bliss\\nMy river-lily bud one human kiss\\nOne sigh of real breath one gentle squeeze,\\nWarm as a dove s nest among summer trees.\\nAnd warm with dew at ooze from living blood\\nWhither didst melt Ah, what of that all good\\nWe 11 talk about no more of dreaming. Now,\\nWhere shall our dwelling be Under the brow 670\\nOf some steep mossy hill, where ivy dun\\nWould hide us up, although spring leaves were\\nnone\\nAnd where dark yew trees, as we rustle through,\\nWill drop their scarlet berry cups of dew\\nO thou wouldst joy to live in such a place\\nDusk for our loves, yet light enough to grace\\nThose gentle limbs on mossy bed reclined\\nFor by one step the blue sky shouldst thou find.\\nAnd by another, in deep dell below,\\nSee, through the trees, a little river go\\nAll in its mid-day gold and glimmering.\\nHoney from out the gnarled hive I 11 bring.\\nAnd apples, wan with sweetness, gather thee,\\nCresses that grow wiieie no man may them see,\\nAnd sorrel untorn by the dew-claw d stag", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 183\\nPipes will I fashion of the syrinx flag,\\nThat thou mayst always know whither I roam,\\nWhen it shall please thee in our quiet home\\nTo listen and think of love. Still let me speak\\nStill let me dive into the joy I seek, 690\\nFor yet the past doth prison me. The rill,\\nThou haply mayst delight in, will I fill\\nWith fairy fishes from the mountain tarn,\\nAnd thou shalt feed them from the squirrel s barn.\\nIts bottom will I strew with amber shells,\\nAnd pebbles blue from deep enchanted wells.\\nIts sides I ll plant with dew-sweet eglantine.\\nAnd honeysuckles full of clear bee- wine.\\nI will entice this crystal rill to trace\\nLove s silver name upon the meadow s face. 700\\nI 11 kneel to Vesta, for a flame of fire\\nAnd to god Phoebus, for a golden lyre\\nTo Empress Dian, for a hunting-spear\\nTo Vesper, for a taper silver-clear,\\nThat I may see thy beauty through the night\\nTo Flora, and a nightingale shall light\\nTame on thy finger to the River-gods,\\nAnd they shall bring thee taper fishing-rods\\nOf gold, and lines of Naiads long bright tress.\\nHeaven shield thee for thine utter loveliness 710\\nThy mossy footstool shall the altar be\\nFore which I 11 bend, bending, dear love, to thee\\nThose lips shall be my Delphos, and shall speak\\nLaws to my footsteps, colour to my cheek.\\nTrembling or steadfastness to this same voice,\\nAnd of three sweetest pleasurings the choice\\nAnd that affectionate light, those diamond things,\\nThose eyes, those passions, those supreme pearl\\nsprings,\\nShall be my grief, or twinkle me to pleasure.\\nSay, is not bliss within our perfect seizure 720\\nO that I could not doubt", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "l84 ENDYMION\\nThe mountaineer\\nThus strove by fancies vain and crude to clear\\nHis brier d path to some tranquillity.\\nIt gave bright gladness to his lady s eye,\\nAnd yet the tears she wept were tears of sorrow\\nAnswering thus, just as the golden morrow\\nBeam d upward from the valleys of the east\\nO that the flutter of his heart had ceased,\\nOr the sweet name of love had pass d away.\\nYoung feather d tyrant by a swift decay 730\\nWilt thou devote this body to the earth\\nAnd I do think that at my very birth\\nI lisp d thy blooming titles inwardly\\nFor at the first, first dawn and thought of thee,\\nWith uplift hands I blest the stars of heaven.\\nArt thou not cruel Ever have I striven\\nTo think thee kind, but ah, it will not do\\nWhen yet a child, I heard that kisses drew\\nFavour from thee, and so I gave and gave\\nTo the void air, bidding them find out love 740\\nBut when I came to feel how far above\\nAll fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood.\\nAll earthly pleasure, all imagined good.\\nWas the warm tremble of a devout kiss,\\nEven then, that moment, at the thought of this,\\nFainting I fell into a bed of flowers.\\nAnd languish d there three days. Ye milder powers,\\nAm I not cruelly wrong d Believe, believe\\nMe, dear Endymion, were I to weave\\nWith my own fancies garlands of sweet life, 750\\nThou shouldst be one of all. Ah, bitter strife\\nI may not be thy love I am forbidden\\nIndeed I am thwarted, affrighted, chidden.\\nBy things I tremble at, and gorgon wrath.\\nTwice hast thou ask d whither I went: henceforth\\nAsk me no more I may not utter it.\\nNor may I be thy love. We might commit\\nOurselves at once to vengeance we might die", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 185\\nWe might embrace and die voluptuous thought\\nEnlarge not to my hunger, or I m caught 760\\nIn trammels of perverse deliciousness.\\nNo, no, that shall not be thee will I bless,\\nAnd bid a long adieu,\\nThe Carian\\nNo word return d both lovelorn, silent, wan,\\nInto the valleys green together went.\\nFar wandering, they were perforce content\\nTo sit beneath a fair lone beechen tree\\nNor at each other gazed, but heavily\\n,Pored on its hazel cirque of shedded leaves.\\nEndymion unhappy it nigh grieves 770\\nMe to behold thee thus in last extreme\\nEnskied ere this, but truly that I deem\\nTruth the best music in a first-born song.\\nThy lute- voiced brother will I sing ere long.\\nAnd thou shalt aid hast thou not aided me\\nYes, moonlight Emperor felicity\\nHas been thy meed for many thousand years\\nYet often have I, on the brink of tears.\\nMourn d as if yet thou wert a forester\\nForgetting the old tale.\\nHe did not stir 780\\nHis eyes from the dead leaves, or one small pulse\\nOf j oy he might have felt. The spirit culls\\nUnladed amaranth, when wild it strays\\nThrough the old garden-ground of boyish days.\\nA little onward ran the very stream\\nBy which he took his first soft poppy dream\\nAnd on the very bark gainst which he leant\\nA crescent he had carved, and round it spent\\nHis skill in little stars. The teeming tree\\nHad swollen and green d the pious charactery. 79c\\nBut not ta en out. Why, there was not a slope", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "i86 ENDYMION\\nUp which he had not fear d the antelope\\nAnd not a tree, beneath whose rooty shade\\nHe had not with his tamed leopards play d\\nNor could an arrow light, or javelin,\\nFly in the air where his had never been\\nAnd yet he knew it not.\\nO treachery\\nWhy does his lady smile, pleasing her eye\\nWith all his sorrowing He sees her not.\\nBut who so stares on him His sister sure 800\\nPeona of the woods Can she endure\\nImpossible how dearly they embrace I\\nHis lady smiles delight is in her face\\nIt is no treachery.\\nDear brother mine\\nEndymion, weep not so Why shouldst thou pine\\nWhen all great Latmos so exalt will be\\nThank the great gods, and look not bitterly\\nAnd speak not one pale word, and sigh no more.\\nSure I will not believe thou hast such store\\nOf grief, to last thee to my kiss again. 810\\nThou surely canst not bear a mind in pain,\\nCome hand in hand with one so beautiful.\\nBe happy both of you for I will pull\\nThe flowers of autumn for your coronals.\\nPan s holy priest for young Endymion calls\\nAnd when he is restored, thou, fairest dame,\\nShalt be our queen. Now, is it not a shame\\nTo see ye thus, not very, very sad\\nPerhaps ye are too happy to be glad\\nO feel as if it were a common day 820\\nFree- voiced as one who never was away.\\nNo tongue shall ask. Whence come ye but ye shall\\nBe gods of your own rest imperial.\\nNot even I, for one whole month, will pry\\nInto the hours that have pass d us by.\\n4\\nI", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH i87\\nSince in my arbour I did sing to thee.\\nO Hermes on this very night will be\\nA hymning up to Cynthia, queen of light\\nFor the soothsayers old saw yesternight\\nGood visions in the air, whence will befall, 830\\nAs say these sages, health perpetual\\nTo shepherds and their flocks and furthermore,\\nIn Dian s face they read the gentle lore\\nTherefore for her these vesper-carols are.\\nOur friends will all be there from nigh and far.\\nMany upon thy death have ditties made\\nAnd many, even now, their foreheads shade\\nWith cypress, on a day of sacrifice.\\nNew singing for our maids shalt thou devise.\\nAnd pluck the sorrow from our huntsmen s brows.\\nTell me, my lady-queen, how to espouse 841\\nThis wayward brother to his rightful joys!\\nHis eyes are on thee bent, as thou didst poise\\nHis fate most goddess-like. Help me, I pray,\\nTo lure Endymion, dear brother, say\\nWhat ails thee He could bear no more, and so\\nBent his soul fiercely like a spiritual bow.\\nAnd twang d it inwardly, and calmly said\\nI would have thee my only friend, sweet maid\\nMy only visitor not ignorant though, 850\\nThat those deceptions which for pleasure go\\nMong men, are pleasures real as real may be\\nBut there are higher ones I may not see.\\nIf impiously an earthly realm I take.\\nSince I saw thee, I have been wide awake\\nNight after night, and day by day, until\\nOf the empyrean I have drunk my fill.\\nLet it content thee. Sister, seeing me\\nMore happy than betides mortality.\\nA hermit young, I 11 live in mossy cave, 860\\nWhere thou alone shalt come to me, and lave\\nThy spirit in the wonders I shall tell.\\nThrough me the shepherd realm shall prosper well", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "i88 ENDYMION\\nFor to thy tongue will I all health confide.\\nAnd, for my sake, let this young maid abide\\nWith thee as a dear sister. Thou alone,\\nPeona, mayst return to me. I own\\nThis may sound strangely but when, dearest girl,\\nThou seest it for my happiness, no pearl\\nWill trespass down those cheeks. Companion fair\\nWilt be content to dwell with her, to share 871\\nThis sister s love with me Like one resign d\\nAnd bent by circumstance, and thereby blind\\nIn self-commitment, thus that meek unknown\\nAye, but a buzzing by my ears has flown,\\nOf jubilee to Dian: truth I heard\\nWell then, I see there is no little bird,\\nTender soever, but is Jove s own care.\\nLong have I sought for rest, and, unaware,\\nBehold I find it so exalted too 880\\nSo after my own heart I knew, I knew\\nThere was a place untenanted in it\\nIn that same void white Chastity shall sit,\\nAnd monitor me nightly to lone slumber.\\nWith sanest lips I vow me to the number\\nOf Dian s sisterhood and, kind lady,\\nWith thy good help, this very night shall see\\nMy future days to her fane consecrate.\\nAs feels a dreamer what doth most create\\nHis own particular fright, so these three felt 890\\nOr like one who, in after ages, knelt\\nTo Lucifer or Baal, when he d pine\\nAfter a little sleep or when in mine\\nFar under-ground, a sleeper meets his friends\\nWho know him not. Each diligently bends\\nTowards common thoughts and things for very\\nfear\\nStriving their ghastly malady to cheer,\\nBy thinking it a thing of yes and no,\\nThat housewives talk of. But the spirit-blow", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 189\\nWas struck, and all were dreamers. At tlie last 900\\nEndymion said Are not our fates all cast\\nWhy stand we here Adieu, ye tender pair\\nAdieu Whereat those maidens, with wild stare,\\nWalk d dizzily away. Pained and hot\\nHis eyes went after them, until they got\\nNear to a cypress grove, whose deadly maw,\\nIn one swift moment, would what then he saw\\nEngulf for ever. Stay, he cried, ah, stay\\nTurn, damsels hist one word I have to say\\nSweet Indian, I would see thee once again. 910\\nIt is a thing I dote on so I d fain,\\nPeona, ye should hand in hand repair,\\nInto those holy groves that silent are\\nBehind great Dian s temple. I 11 be yon.\\nAt Vesper s earliest twinkle they are gone\\nBut once, once, once again At this he press d\\nHis hands against his face, and then did rest\\nHis head upon a mossy hillock green,\\nAnd so remain d as he a corpse had been\\nAll the long day save when he scantly lifted 920\\nHis eyes abroad, to see how shadows shifted\\nWith the slow move of time, sluggish and weary\\nUntil the poplar tops, in journey dreary,\\nHad reach d the river s brim. Then up he rose,\\nAnd, slowly as that very river flows,\\nWalk d towards the temple grove with this lament\\nWhy such a golden eve The breeze is sent\\nCareful and soft, that not a leaf may fall\\nBefore the serene father of them all\\nBows down his summer head below the west. 930\\nNow am I of breath, speech, and speed possest,\\nBut at the setting I must bid adieu\\nTo her for the last time. Night will strew\\nOn the damp grass myriads of lingering leaves,\\nAnd with them shall I die nor much it grieves\\nTo die, when summer dies on the cold sward.\\nWhy, I have been a butterfly, a lord", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "190\\nENDYMION\\nOf flowers, garlands, love-knots, silly posies.\\nGroves, meadows, melodies, and arbour-roses\\nMy kingdom s at its death, and just it is 940\\nThat I should die with it so in all this\\nWe miscall grief, bale, sorrow, heart-break, woe,\\nWhere is there to plain of By Titan s foe\\nI am but rightly served. So saying, he\\nTripp d lightly on, in sort of deathful glee\\nLaughing at the clear stream and setting sun,\\nAs though they jests had been nor had he done\\nHis laugh at nature s holy countenance,\\nUntil that grove appear d, as if perchance,\\nAnd then his tongue with sober seemlihed 950\\nGave utterance as he enter d Ha I said,\\nKing of the butterflies but by this gloom,\\nAnd by old Rhadamanthus tongue af doom.\\nThis dusk religion, pomp of solitude.\\nAnd the Promethean clay by thief endued,\\nBy old Saturnus forelock, by his head\\nShook with eternal palsy, I did wed\\nMyself to things of light from infancy\\nAnd thus to be cast out, thus lorn to die,\\nIs sure enough to make a mortal man 960\\nGrow impious. So he inwardly began\\nOn things for which no wording can be found\\nDeeper and deeper sinking, until drown d\\nBeyond the reach of music for the choir\\nOf Cynthia he heard not, though rough brier\\nNor muffling thicket interposed to dull\\nThe vesper hymn, far swollen, soft and full.\\nThrough the dark pillars of those sylvan aisles.\\nHe saw not the two maidens, nor their smiles.\\nWan as primroses gather d at midnight 970\\nBy chilly-finger d spring. Unhappy wight\\nEndymion said Peona, we are here\\nWhat wouldst thou ere we all are laid on bier\\nThen he embraced her, and his lady s hand\\nPress d, saying Sister, I would have command.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "BOOK FOURTH 191\\nIf it were heaven s will, on our sad fate.\\nAt which that dark-eyed stranger stood elate\\nAnd said, in a new voice, but sweet as love,\\nTo Endymion s amaze By Cupid s dove,\\nAnd so thou slialt and by the lily truth 980\\nOf my own breast thou shalt, beloved youth\\nAnd as she spake, into her face there came\\nLight, as reflected from a silver flame\\nHer long black hair swell d ampler, in display\\nFull golden in her eyes a brighter day\\nDawn d blue, and full of love. Aye, he beheld\\nPhoebe, his passion joyous she upheld\\nHer lucid bow, continuing thus Drear, drear\\nHas our delaying been but foolish fear\\nWithheld me first and then decrees of fate 990\\nAnd then t was fit that from this mortal state\\nThou shouldst, my love, by some unlook d-for\\nchange\\nBe spiritualized. Peona, we shall range\\nThese forests, and to thee they safe shall be\\nAs was thy cradle hither shalt thou flee\\nTo meet us many a time. Next Cynthia bright\\nPeona kiss d, and bless d with fair good night\\nHer brother kiss d her too, and knelt adown\\nBefore his goddess, in a blissful swoon.\\nShe gave her fair hands to him, and behold, 1000\\nBefore three swiftest kisses he had told,\\nThey vanish d far away Peona went\\nHome through the gloomy wood in wonderment.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "192 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nTHE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL\\nA STORY FROM BOCCACCIO\\nFaik Isabel, poor simple Isabel\\nLorenzo, a young palmer in love s eye\\nThey could not in the self-same mansion dwell\\nWithout some stir of heart, some malady\\nThey could not sit at meals but feel how well\\nIt soothed each to be the other by\\nThey could not, sure, beneath the same roof sleep\\nBut to each other dream, and nightly weep.\\nWith every morn their love grew tenderer,\\nWith every eve deeper and tenderer still\\nHe might not in house, field, or garden stir,\\nBut her full shape would all his seeing fill\\nAnd his continual voice was pleasanter\\nTo her, than noise of trees or hidden rill\\nHer lute-string gave an echo of his name.\\nShe spoilt her half-done broidery with the same.\\nHe knew whose gentle hand was at the latch,\\nBefore the door had given her to his eyes\\nAnd from her chamber- window he would catch\\nHer beauty farther than the falcon spies\\nAnd constant as her vespers would he watch,\\nBecause her face was turn d to the same skies", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL 193\\nAnd with sick longing all the night outwear,\\nTo hear her morning-step upon the stair.\\nA whole long month of May in this sad plight\\nMade their cheeks paler by the break of June\\nTo-morrow will I bow to my delight,\\nTo-morrow will I ask my lady s boon.\\nO may I never see another night,\\nLorenzo, if thy lips breathe not love s tune.\\nSo spake they to their pillows but, alas,\\nHoneyless days and days did he let pass\\nV\\nUntil sweet Isabella s untouch d cheek\\nFell sick within the rose s just domain,\\nFell thin as a young mother s, who doth seek\\nBy every lull to cool her infant s pain\\nHow ill she is said he, I may not speak,\\nAnd yet I will, and tell my love all plain\\nIf looks, speak love-laws, I will drink her tears,\\nAnd at the least t will startle off her cares.\\nSo said he one fair morning, and all day\\nHis heart beat awfully against his side\\nAnd to his heart he inwardly did pray\\nFor power to speak but still the ruddy tide\\nStifled his voice, and pulsed resolve away\\nFever d his high conceit of such a bride,\\nYet brought him to the meekness of a child\\nAlas when passion is both meek and wild\\nSo once more he had waked and anguished\\nA dreary night of love and misery,\\nIf Isabel s quick eye had not been wed\\nTo every symbol on his forehead high", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "194 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nShe saw it waxing very pale and dead,\\nAnd straight all flush d so, lisped tenderly,\\nLorenzo here she ceased her timid quest,\\nBut in her tone and look he read the rest.\\nVIII\\nO Isabella, I can half perceive\\nThat I may speak my grief into thine ear\\nIf thou didst ever anything believe.\\nBelieve how I love thee, believe how near\\nMy soul is to its doom I would not grieve\\nThy hand by unwelcome pressing, would not fear\\nThine eyes by gazing but I cannot live\\nAnother night, and not my passion shrive.\\nLove thou art leading me from wintry cold.\\nLady thou leadest me to summer clime,\\nAnd I must taste the blossoms that unfold\\nIn its ripe warmth this gracious morning time.\\nSo said, his erewhile timid lips grew bold.\\nAnd poesied with hers in dewy rhyme\\nGreat bliss was with them, and great happiness\\nGrew, like a lusty flower in June s caress.\\nParting they seem d to tread upon the air,\\nTwin roses by the zephyr blown apart\\nOnly to meet again more close, and share\\nThe inward fragrance of each other s heart.\\nShe, to her chamber gone, a ditty fair\\nSang, of delicious love and honey d dart\\nHe with light steps went up a western hill,\\nAnd bade the sun farewell, and joy d his fill.\\nXI\\nAll close they met again, before the dusk\\nHad taken from the stars its pleasant veil.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL 195\\nAll close they met, all eves, before the dusk\\nHad taken from the stars its pleasant veil.\\nClose in a bower of hyacinth and musk,\\nUnknown of any, free from whispering tale.\\nAh better had it been forever so,\\nThan idle ears should pleasure in their woe.\\nWere they unhappy then It cannot be\\nToo many tears for lovers have been shed,\\nToo many sighs give we to them in fee,\\nToo much of pity after they are dead.\\nToo many doleful stories do we see.\\nWhose matter in bright gold were best be read\\nExcept in such a page where Theseus spouse\\nOver the pathless waves towards him bows.\\nBut, for the general award of love,\\nThe little sweet doth kill much bitterness\\nThough Dido silent is in under- grove,\\nAnd Isabella s was a great distress.\\nThough young Lorenzo in warm Indian clove\\nWas not embalm d, this truth is not the less\\nEven bees, the little almsmen of spring-bowers,\\nKnow there is richest juice in poison-flowers.\\nWith her two brothers this fair lady dwelt,\\nEnriched from ancestral merchandise.\\nAnd for them many a weary hand did swelt\\nIn torched mines and noisy factories,\\nAnd many once proud-quiver d loins did melt\\nIn blood from stinging whip with hollow eyes\\nMany all day in dazzling river stood,\\nTo take the rich-ored driftings of the flood.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "[96 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nFor them the Ceylon diver held his breath,\\nAnd went all naked to the hungry shark\\nFor them his ears gush d blood for them in death\\nThe seal on the cold ice with piteous bark\\nLay full of darts for them alone did seethe\\nA thousand men in trovibles wide and dark\\nHalf -ignorant, they turu d an easy wheel,\\nThat set sharp racks at work, to pinch and peel.\\nWhy were they proud Because their marble founts\\nGush d with more pride than do a wretch s\\ntears\\nWhy were they proud Because fair orange-mounts\\nWere of more soft ascent than lazar stairs\\nWhy were they proud Because red-lined accounts\\nWere richer than the songs of Grecian years\\nWhy were they proud again we ask aloud,\\nWhy in the name of Glory were they proud\\nXVII\\nYet were these Florentines as self -retired\\nIn hungry pride and gainful cowardice,\\nAs two close Hebrews in that land inspired,\\nPaled in and vineyarded from beggar-spies\\nThe hawks of ship-mast forests the untired\\nAnd pannier d mules for ducats and old lies\\nQuick cat s-paws on the generous stray-away,\\nGreat wits in Spanish, Tuscan, and Malay.\\nXVIII\\nHow was it these same ledger-men could spy\\nFair Isabella in her downy nest\\nHow could they find out in Lorenzo s eye\\nA straying from his toil Hot Egypt s pest\\nInto their vision covetous and sly\\nHow could these money-bags see east and west\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL 197\\nYet so tliey did and every dealer fair\\nMust see behind, as doth the hunted hare.\\nO eloquent and famed Boccaccio\\nOf thee we now should ask forgiving boon,\\nAnd of thy spicy myrtles as they blow,\\nAnd of thy roses amorous of the moon,\\nAnd of thy lilies, that do paler grow\\nNow they can no more hear thy ghittern s tune,\\nFor venturing syllables that ill beseem\\nThe quiet glooms of such a piteous theme.\\nGrant thou a pardon here, and then the tale\\nShall move on soberly, as it is meet\\nThere is no other crime, no mad assail\\nTo make old prose in modern rhyme more sweet\\nBut it is done succeed the verse or fail\\nTo honour thee, and thy gone spirit greet\\nTo stead thee as a verse in English tongue,\\nAn echo of thee in the north-wind sung.\\nThese brethren having found by many signs\\nWhat love Lorenzo for their sister had.\\nAnd how she loved him too, each unconfines\\nHis bitter thoughts to other, well-nigh mad\\nThat he, the servant of their trade designs.\\nShould in their sister s love be blithe and glad,\\nWhen twas their plan to coax her by degrees\\nTo some high noble and his olive-trees.\\nXXII\\nAnd many a jealous conference had they,\\nAnd many times they bit their lips alone,\\nBefore they fix d upon a surest way\\nTo make the youngster for his crime atone", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "198 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nAnd at the last, these men of cruel clay-\\nCut Mercy with a sharp knife to the bone\\nFor they resolved in some forest dim\\nTo kill Lorenzo, and there bury him.\\nXXIII\\nSo on a pleasant morning, as he leant\\nInto the sunrise, o er the balustrade\\nOf the garden-terrace, towards him they bent\\nTheir footing through the dews and to him said,\\nYou seem there in the quiet of content,\\nLorenzo, and we are most loth to invade\\nCalm speculation but if you are wise,\\nBestride your steed while cold is in the skies.\\nTo-day we purpose, aye, this hour we mount\\nTo spur three leagues towards the Apennine;\\nCome down, we pray thee, ere the hot sun count\\nHis dewy rosary on the eglantine.\\nLorenzo, courteously as he was wont,\\nBow d a fair greeting to these serpents whine\\nAnd went in haste, to get in readiness.\\nWith belt, and spur, and bracing huntsman s dress.\\nAnd as he to the court-yard pass d along,\\nEach third step did he pause, and listen d oft\\nIf he could hear his lady s matin-song,\\nOr the light whisper of her footstep soft\\nAnd as he thus over his passion hung.\\nHe heard a laugh full musical aloft\\nWhen, looking up, he saw her features bright\\nSmile through an in-door lattice, all delight.\\nXXVI\\nLove, Isabel said he, I was in pain\\nLest I should miss to bid thee a good morrow", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL 199\\nAh what if I should lose thee, when so fain\\nI am to stifle all the heavy sorrow\\nOf a poor three hours absence but we 11 gain\\nOut of the amorous dark what day doth borrow.\\nGood bye I 11 soon be back. Good bye said\\nshe:\\nAnd as he went she chanted merrily.\\nXXVII\\nSo the two brothers and their murder d man\\nRode past fair Florence, to where Arno s stream\\nGurgles through straighten d banks, and still doth fan\\nItself with dancing bulrush, and the bream\\nKeeps head against the freshets. Sick and wan\\nThe brothers faces in the ford did seem,\\nLorenzo s flush with love. They pass d the water\\nInto a forest quiet for the slaughter.\\nXXVIII\\nThere was Lorenzo slain and buried in,\\nThere in that forest did his great love cease\\nAh when a soul doth thus its freedom win,\\nIt aches in loneliness is ill at peace\\nAs the break-covert bloodhounds of such sin\\nThey dipp d their swords in the water, and did\\ntease\\nTheir horses homeward, with convulsed spur,\\nEach richer by his being a murderer.\\nThey told their sister how, with sudden speed,\\nLorenzo had ta en ship for foreign lands,\\nBecause of some great urgency and need\\nIn their affairs, requiring trusty hands.\\nPoor Girl put on thy stifling widow s weed,\\nAnd scape at once from Hope s accursed bands\\nTo-day thou wilt not see him, nor to-morrow,\\nAnd the next day will be a day of sorrow.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "200 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nShe weeps alone for pleasures not to be\\nSorely she wept until the night came on,\\nAnd then, instead of love, O misery 1\\nShe brooded o er the luxury alone\\nHis image in the dusk she seem d to see,\\nAnd to the silence made a gentle moan.\\nSpreading her perfect arms upon the air,\\nAnd on her couch low murmuring, Where O\\nwhere\\nBut Selfishness, Love s cousin, held not long\\nIts fiery vigil in her single breast\\nShe fretted for the golden hour, and hung\\nUpon the time with feverish unrest\\nNot long for soon into her heart a throng\\nOf higher occupants, a richer zest.\\nCame tragic passion not to be subdued,\\nAnd sorrow for her love in travels rude.\\nXXXII\\nIn the mid days of autumn, on their eves\\nThe breath of Winter comes from far away,\\nAnd the sick west continually bereaves\\nOf some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay\\nOf death among the bushes and the leaves,\\nTo make all bare before he dares to stray\\nFrom his north cavern. So sweet Isabel\\nBy gradual decay from beauty fell,\\nBecause Lorenzo came not. Oftentimes\\nShe ask d her brothers, with an eye all pale.\\nStriving to be itself, what dungeon climes\\nCould keep him off so long They spake a\\ntale", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL 201\\nTime after time, to quiet her. Their crimes\\nCame on them, like a smoke from Hinnom s vale\\nAnd every night in dreams they groan d aloud,\\nTo see their sister in her snowy shroud.\\nAnd she had died in drowsy ignorance.\\nBut for a thing more deadly dark than all\\nIt came like a fierce potion, drunk by chance,\\nWhich saves a sick man from the feather d pall\\nFor some few gasping moments like a lance,\\nWaking an Indian from his cloudy hall\\nWith cruel pierce, and bringing him again\\nSense of the gnawing fire at heart and brain.\\nIt was a vision. In the drowsy gloom.\\nThe dull of midnight, at her couch s foot\\nLorenzo stood, and wept the forest tomb\\nHad marr d his glossy hair which once could shoot\\nLustre into the sun, and put cold doom\\nUpon his lips, and taken the soft lute\\nFrom his lorn voice, and past his loamed ears\\nHad made a miry channel for his tears.\\nStrange sound it was, when the pale shadow spake\\nFor there was striving, in its piteous tongue,\\nTo speak as when on earth it was awake,\\nAnd Isabella on its music hung\\nLanguor there was in it, and tremulous shake,\\nAs in a palsied Druid s harp unstrung\\nAnd through it moan d a ghostly undersong,\\nLike hoarse night-gusts sepulchral briars among.\\nxxxvii\\nIts eyes, though wild, were still all dewy bright\\nWith love, and kept all phantom fear aloof", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "202 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nFrom the poor girl by magic of their light,\\nThe while it did unthread the horrid woof\\nOf the late darken d time, the murderous spite\\nOf pride and avarice, the dark pine roof\\nIn the forest, and the sodden turfed dell,\\nWhere, without any word, from stabs he fell.\\nSaying moreover, Isabel, my sweet\\nRed whortleberries droop above my head,\\nAnd a large flint-stone weighs upon my feet\\nAround me beeches and high chestnuts shed\\nTheir leaves and prickly nuts a sheepf old bleat\\nComes from beyond the river to my bed\\nGo, shed one tear upon my heather-bloom,\\nAnd it shall comfort me within the tomb.\\nI am a shadow now, alas alas\\nUpon the skirts of human nature dwelling\\nAlone I chant alone the holy mass,\\nWhile little sounds of life are round me knelling.\\nAnd glossy bees at noon do fieldward pass,\\nAnd many a chapel bell the hour is telling,\\nPaining me through those sounds grow strange to\\nme.\\nAnd thou art distant in Humanity.\\nXL\\nI know what was, I feel full well what is.\\nAnd I should rage, if spirits could go mad\\nThough I forget the taste of earthly bliss,\\nThat paleness warms my grave, as though I\\nhad\\nA Seraph chosen from the bright abyss\\nTo be my spouse thy paleness makes me glad\\nThy beauty grows upon me, and I feel\\nA greater love through all my essence steal.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL 203\\nThe Spirit mourn d Adieu dissolved, and left\\nThe atom darkness in a slow turmoil\\nAs when of healthful midnight sleep bereft,\\nThinking on rugged hours and fruitless toil,\\nWe put our eyes into a pillowy cleft,\\nAnd see the spangly gloom froth up and boil\\nIt made sad Isabella s eyelids ache,\\nAnd in the dawn she started up awake.\\nXLII\\nHa ha said she, I knew not this hard life,\\nI thought the worst was simple misery\\nI thought some Fate with pleasure or with strife\\nPortion d us happy days, or else to die\\nBut there is crime a brother s bloody knife\\nSweet Spirit, thou hast school d my infancy\\nI 11 visit thee for this, and kiss thine eyes,\\nAnd greet thee morn and even in the skies.\\nWhen the full morning came, she had devised\\nHow she might secret to the forest hie\\nHow she might find the clay, so dearly prized,\\nAnd sing to it one latest lullaby\\nHow her short absence might be unsurmised.\\nWhile she the inmost of the dream would try.\\nResolved, she took with her an aged nurse,\\nAnd went into that dismal forest-hearse.\\nSee, as they creep along the river side,\\nHow she doth whisper to that aged Dame,\\nAnd, after looking round the champaign wide.\\nShows her a knife. What feverous hectic flame\\nBurns in thee, child what good can thee betide.\\nThat thou shouldst smile again The evening", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "204 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nAnd they had found Lorenzo s earthy bed\\nThe flint was there, the berries at his head.\\nWho hath not loiter d in a green churchyard,\\nAnd let his spirit, like a demon-mole,\\nWork through the clayey soil and gravel hard.\\nTo see skull, coflSn d bones, and funeral stole\\nPitying each form that hungry Death hath marr d,\\nAnd filling it once more with human soul\\nAh this is holiday to what was felt\\nWhen Isabella by Lorenzo knelt.\\nXLVI\\nShe gazed into the fresh-thrown mould, as though\\nOne glance did fully all its secrets tell\\nClearly she saw, as other eyes would know\\nPale limbs at bottom of a crystal well\\nUpon the murderous spot she seem d to grow,\\nLike to a native lily of the dell\\nThen with her knife, all sudden, she began\\nTo dig more fervently than misers can.\\nSoon she turn d up a soiled glove, whereon\\nHer silk had play d in purple phantasies:\\nShe kiss d it with a lip more chill than stone,\\nAnd put it in her bosom, where it dries\\nAnd freezes utterly unto the bone\\nThose dainties made to still an infant s cries\\nThen gan she work again nor stay d her care,\\nBut to throw back at times her veiling hair.\\nThat old nurse stood beside her wondering,\\nUntil her heart felt pity to the core\\nAt sight of such a dismal labouring.\\nAnd so she kneeled, with her locks all hoar,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "OR THE POT OF BASIL 205\\nAnd put her lean hands to the horrid thing\\nThree hours they labour d at this travail sore\\nAt last they felt the kernel of the grave,\\nAnd Isabella did not stamp and rave.\\nAh wherefore all this wormy circumstance\\nWhy linger at the yawning tomb so long\\nO for the gentleness of old Romance,\\nThe simple plaining of a minstrel s song\\nFair reader, at the old tale take a glance,\\nFor here, in truth, it doth not well belong\\nTo speak O turn thee to the very tale.\\nAnd taste the music of that vision pale.\\nL\\nWith duller steel than the Persean sword\\nThey cut away no formless monster s head,\\nBut one, whose gentleness did well accord\\nWith death, as life. The ancient harps have said.\\nLove never dies, but lives, immortal Lord:\\nIf Love impersonate was ever dead.\\nPale Isabella kiss d it, and low moan d.\\nT was love cold, dead indeed, but not dethron d.\\nIn anxious secrecy they took it home,\\nAnd then the prize was all for Isabel\\nShe calm d its wild hair with a golden comb,\\nAnd all around each eye s sepulchral cell\\nPointed each fringed lash the smeared loam\\nWith tears, as chilly as a dripping well.\\nShe drench d away and still she comb d, and kept\\nSighing all day and still she kiss d and wept.\\nThen in a silken scarf, sweet with the dews\\nOf precious flowers pluck d in Araby,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "2o6 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nAnd divine liquids come with odorous ooze\\nThrough the cold serpent-pipe refreshfully,\\nShe wrapp d it up and for its tomb did choose\\nA garden-pot, wherein she laid it by,\\nAnd cover d it with mould, and o er it set\\nSweet Basil, which her tears kept ever wet.\\nLIII\\nAnd she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun,\\nAnd she forgot the blue above the trees,\\nAnd she forgot the dells where waters run,\\nAnd she forgot the chilly autumn breeze\\nShe had no knowledge when the day was done,\\nAnd the new morn she saw not but in peace\\nHung over her sweet Basil evermore.\\nAnd moisten d it with tears unto the core.\\nAnd so she ever fed it with thin tears.\\nWhence thick, and green, and beautiful it grew.\\nSo that it smelt more balmy than its peers\\nOf Basil-tufts in Florence for it drew\\nNurture besides, and life, from human fears.\\nFrom the fast mouldering head there shut from\\nview\\nSo that the jewel, safely casketed,\\nCame forth, and in perfumed leafits spread.\\nO Melancholy, linger here awhile\\nO Music, Music, breathe despondingly\\nO Echo, Echo, from some sombre isle.\\nUnknown, Lethean, sigh to us O sigh\\nSpirits in grief, lift up your heads, and smile\\nLift up your heads, sweet Spirits, heavily,\\nAnd make a pale light in your cypress glooms.\\nTinting with silver wan your marble tombs.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL 207\\nLVI\\nMoan hither, all ye syllables of woe,\\nFrom the deep throat of sad Melpomene\\nThrough bronzed lyre in tragic order go.\\nAnd touch the strings into a mystery\\nSound mournfully upon the winds and low\\nFor simple Isabel is soon to be\\nAmong the dead: She withers, like a palm\\nCut by an Indian for its juicy balm.\\nO leave the palm to wither by itself\\nLet not quick Winter chill its dying hour\\nIt may not be those Baalites of pelf.\\nHer brethren, noted the continual shower\\nFrom her dead eyes and many a curious elf.\\nAmong her kindred, wonder d that such dower\\nOf youth and beauty should be thrown aside\\nBy one mark d out to be a Noble s bride.\\nAnd, furthermore, her brethren wonder d much\\nWhy she sat drooping by the Basil green.\\nAnd why it flourish d, as by magic touch\\nGreatly they wonder d what the thing might\\nmean\\nThey could not surely give belief, that such\\nA very nothing would have power to wean\\nHer from her own fair youth, and pleasures gay,\\nAnd even remembrance of her love s delay.\\nLIX\\nTherefore they watch d a time when they might sift\\nThis hidden whim and long they watch d in\\nvain\\nFor seldom did she go to chapel-shrift,\\nAnd seldom felt she any hunger-pain", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "2o8 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nAnd when she left, she hurried back, as swift\\nAs bird on wing to breast its eggs again\\nAnd, patient as a hen-bird, sat her there\\nBeside her Basil, weeping through her hair.\\nYet they contrived to steal the Basil-pot,\\nAnd to examine it in secret place\\nThe thing was vile with green and livid spot,\\nAnd yet they knew it was Lorenzo s face\\nThe guerdon of their murder they had got,\\nAnd so left Florence in a moment s space,\\nNever to turn again. Away they went.\\nWith blood upon their heads, to banishment.\\nLXI\\nO Melancholy, turn thine eyes away\\nO Music, Music, breathe despondingly\\nO Echo, Echo, on some other day.\\nFrom isles Lethean, sigh to us O sigh\\nSpirits of grief, sing not your Well-a-way\\nFor Isabel, sweet Isabel, will die\\nWill die a death too lone and incomplete,\\nNow they have ta en away her Basil sweet.\\nLXII\\nPiteous she look d on dead and senseless things,\\nAsking for her lost Basil amorously\\nAnd with melodious chuckle in the strings\\nOf her lorn voice, she oftentimes would cry\\nAfter the Pilgrim in his wanderings.\\nTo ask him where her Basil was and why\\nT was hid from her For cruel t is, said she,\\nTo steal my Basil -pot away from me.\\nAnd so she pined, and so she died forlorn.\\nImploring for her Basil to the last.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "FRAGMENT OF AN ODE TO MAIA 209\\nNo heart was there in Florence but did mourn\\nIn pity of her love, so overcast.\\nAnd a sad ditty of this story born\\nFrom mouth to mouth through all the country\\npass d\\nStill is the burthen sung O cruelty,\\nTo steal my Basil-pot away from me\\nTO HOMER\\nStanding aloof in giant ignorance,\\nOf thee I hear and of the Cyclades,\\nAs one who sits ashore and longs perchance\\nTo visit dolphin-coral in deep seas.\\nSo thou wast blind but then the veil was rent,\\nFor Jove uncurtain d Heaven to let thee live,\\nAnd Neptune made for thee a spumy tent,\\nAnd Pan made sing for thee his forest-hive\\nAy on the shores of darkness there is light,\\nAnd precipices show untrodden green\\nThere is a budding morrow in midnight\\nThere is a triple sight in blindness keen\\nSuch seeing hadst thou, as it once befell\\nTo Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell.\\nFRAGMENT OF AN ODE TO MAIA\\nMother of Hermes and still youthful Maia\\nMay I sing to thee\\nAs thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae\\nOr may I woo thee\\nIn earlier Sicilian or thy smiles\\nSeek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles,\\nBy bards who died content on pleasant sward.\\nLeaving great verse unto a little clan", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "2IO THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nO, give me their old vigour, and unheard\\nSave of the quiet Primrose, and the span\\nOf heaven and few ears.\\nRounded by thee, my song should die away\\nContent as theirs.\\nRich in the simple worship of a day.\\nSONG\\nHush, hush tread softly hush, hush, my dear\\nAll the house is asleep, but we know very well\\nThat the jealous, the jealous old bald-pate may\\nhear,\\nTho you ve padded his night-cap O sweet Isa-\\nbel\\nTho your feet are more light than a Faery s\\nfeet.\\nWho dances on bubbles where brooklets meet,\\nHush, hush soft tiptoe hush, hush, my dear\\nFor less than a nothing the jealous can hear.\\nNo leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there\\nOn the river, all s still, and the night s sleepy\\neye\\nCloses up, and forgets all its Lethean care,\\nCharm d to death by the drone of the humming\\nMay-fly\\nAnd the Moon, whether prudish or complai-\\nsant.\\nHas fled to her bower, well knowing I want\\nNo light in the dusk, no torch in the gloom,\\nBut my Isabel s eyes, and her lips pulp d with\\nbloom.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "VERSES WRITTEN IN SCOTLAND 211\\nIII\\nLift the latch ah gently ah tenderly sweet\\nWe are dead if that latchet gives one little clink\\nWell done now those lips, and a flowery seat\\nThe old man may sleep, and the planets may\\nwink\\nThe shut rose shall dream of our loves and\\nawake\\nFull-blown, and such warmth for the morning\\ntake,\\nThe stock-dove shall hatch her soft brace and shall\\ncoo.\\nWhile I kiss to the melody, aching all through.\\nVERSES WRITTEN DURING A TOUR\\nIN SCOTLAND\\nON VISITING THE TOMB OF BURNS\\nThe Town, the churchyard, and the setting sun,\\nThe Clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem.\\nThough beautiful, cold strange as in a dream,\\nI dreamed long ago, now new begun.\\nThe short lived, paly Summer is but won\\nFrom Winter s ague, for one hour s gleam\\nThough sapphire- warm, their Stars do never beam\\nAll is cold Beauty pain is never done\\nFor who has mind to relish, Minos- wise,\\nThe Real of Beauty, free from that dead hue\\nSickly imagination and sick pride\\nCast wan upon it Burns with honour due\\nI oft have honour d thee. Great shadow, hide\\nThy face I sin against thy native skies.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "212 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nTO AILSA ROCK\\nHearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid\\nGive answer from thy voice, the sea-fowls\\nscreams\\nWhen were thy shoulders mantled in huge\\nstreams\\nWhen, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid\\nHow long is t since the mighty power bid\\nThee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams\\nSleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams,\\nOr when gray clouds are thy cold coverlid.\\nThou answer St not for thou art dead asleep\\nThy life is but two dead eternities\\nThe last in air, the former in the deep\\nFirst with the whales, last with the eagle-skies\\nDrown d wast thou till an earthquake made thee\\nsteep,\\nAnother cannot wake thy giant size.\\nIll\\nWRITTEN IN THE COTTAGE WHERE BURNS WAS BORN\\nThis mortal body of a thousand days\\nNow fills, O Burns, a space in thine own room,\\nWhere thou didst dream alone on budded bays,\\nHappy and thoughtless of thy day of doom\\nMy pulse is warm with thine old Barley-bree,\\nMy head is light with pledging a great soul,\\nMy eyes are wandering, and I cannot see,\\nFancy is dead and drunken at its goal\\nYet can I stamp my foot upon thy floor,\\nYet can I ope thy window-sash to find\\nThe meadow thou hast tramped o er and o er,\\nYet can I think of thee till thought is blind,\\nYet can I gulp a bumper to thy name,\\nO smile among the shades, for this is fame", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "VERSES WRITTEN IN SCOTLAND 213\\nAT FINGAL S cave\\nNot Aladdin magian\\nEver such a work began\\nNot the wizard of the Dee\\nEver such a dream could see\\nNot St. John, in Patmos isle,\\nIn the passion of his toil,\\nWhen he saw the churches seven.\\nGolden aisled, built up in heaven,\\nGazed at such a rugged wonder.\\nAs I stood its roofing under.\\nLo I saw one sleeping there,\\nOn the marble cold and bare\\nWhile the surges wash d his feet.\\nAnd his garments white did beat\\nDrench d about the sombre rocks\\nOn his neck his well-grown locks.\\nLifted dry above the main.\\nWere upon the curl again.\\nWhat is this and what art thou\\nWhisper d I, and touch d his brow\\nWhat art thou and what is this\\nWhisper d I, and strove to kiss\\nThe spirit s hand, to wake his eyes\\nUp he started in a trice\\nI am Lycidas, said he,\\nFamed in funeral minstrelsy\\nThis was architectured thus\\nBy the great Oceanus\\nHere his mighty waters play\\nHollow organs all the day\\nHere, by turns, his dolphins all,\\nFinny palmers, great and small,\\nCome to pay devotion due,\\nEach a mouth of pearls must strew", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "214 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nMany a mortal of these days\\nDares to pass our sacred ways\\nDares to touch, audaciously,\\nThis cathedral of the sea\\nI have been the pontiff-priest,\\nWhere the waters never rest,\\nWhere a fledgy sea-bird choir\\nSoars for ever Holy fire\\nI have hid from mortal man\\nProteus is my Sacristan\\nBut the dulled eye of mortal\\nHath pass d beyond the rocky portal\\nSo for ever will I leave\\nSuch a taint, and soon unweave\\nAll the magic of the place.\\nSo saying, with a Spirit s glance\\nHe dived\\nWRITTEN UPON THE TOP OF BEN NEVIS\\nRead me a lesson. Muse, and speak it loud\\nUpon the top of Nevis, blind in mist\\nI look into the chasms, and a shroud\\nVaporous doth hide them, just so much\\nwist\\nMankind do know of hell I look o erhead.\\nAnd there is sullen mist, even so much\\nMankind can tell of heaven mist is spread\\nBefore the earth, beneath me, even such,\\nEven so vague is man s sight of himself\\nHere are the craggy stones beneath my feet,\\nThus much I know that, a poor witless elf,\\nI tread on them, that all my eye doth meet\\nIs mist and crag, not only on this height.\\nBut in the world of thought and mental might", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "TO A LADY SEEN AT VAUXHALL 215\\nTRANSLATION FROM A SONNET OF\\nRONSARD\\nNature withheld Cassandra in the skies,\\nFor more adornment, a full thousand years\\nShe took their cream of Beauty s fairest dyes,\\nAnd shaped and tinted her above all Peers\\nMeanwhile Love kept her dearly with his wings,\\nAnd underneath their shadow fill d her eyes\\nWith such a richness that the cloudy Kings\\nOf high Olympus utter d slavish sighs.\\nWhen from the Heavens I saw her first descend,\\nMy heart took fire, and only burning pains,\\nThey were my pleasures they my Life s sad end\\nLove pour d her beauty into my warm veins.\\nTO A LADY SEEN FOR A FEW MO-\\nMENTS AT VAUXHALL\\nTime s sea hath been five years at its slow ebb.\\nLong hours have to and fro let creep the sand,\\nSince I was tangled in thy beauty s web.\\nAnd snared by the ungloving of thine hand.\\nAnd yet I never look on midnight sky,\\nBut I behold thine eyes well-memoried light\\nI cannot look upon the rose s dye,\\nBut to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight\\nI cannot look on any budding flower,\\nBut my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips\\nAnd hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour\\nIts sweets in the wrong sense Thou dost\\neclipse\\nEvery delight with sweet remembering.\\nAnd grief unto my darling joys dost bring.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "2i6 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nFANCY\\nEver let the Fancy roam,\\nPleasure never is at home\\nAt a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,\\nLike to bubbles when rain pelteth\\nThen let winged Fancy wander\\nThrough the thought still spread beyond her\\nOpen wide the mind s cage-door,\\nShe 11 dart forth, and cloudward soar.\\nO sweet Fancy let her loose\\nSummer s joys are spoilt by use,\\nAnd the enjoying of the Spring\\nFades as does its blossoming\\nAutumn s red-lipp d fruitage too.\\nBlushing through the mist and dew,\\nCloys with tasting What do then\\nSit thee by the ingle, when\\nThe sear faggot blazes bright,\\nSpirit of a winter s night\\nWhen the soundless earth is muffled.\\nAnd the caked snow is shuffled\\nFrom the ploughboy s heavy shoon\\nWhen the Night doth meet the Noon\\nIn a dark conspiracy\\nTo banish Even from her sky.\\nSit thee there, and send abroad.\\nWith a mind self-overawed,\\nFancy, high-commission d send her\\nShe has vassals to attend her\\nShe will bring, in spite of frost.\\nBeauties that the earth hath lost\\nShe will bring thee, all together,\\nAll delights of summer weather\\nAll the buds and bells of May,\\nFrom dewy sward or thorny spray\\n5^\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "FANCY 217\\nAll the hc^aped Autumn s wealth,\\nWith a still, mysterious stealth\\nShe will mix these pleasures up\\n.7 k t].i\\\\;e iit wines in a cup,\\nAnd thou shalt quaff it thou shalt hear\\nDistant harvest-carols clear 40\\nRustle of the reaped corn\\nSweet hirds antheming the morn\\nAnd, in the same moment hark\\nT is the early April lark,\\nOr the rooks, with busy caw,\\nForaging for sticks and straw.\\nThou shalt, at one glance, behold\\nThe daisy and the marigold\\nWhite-plumed lilies, and the first\\nHedge-grown primrose that hath burst 50\\nShaded hyacinth, alway\\nSapphire queen of the mid-May\\nAnd every leaf, and every flower\\nPearled with the self-same shower.\\nThou shalt see the field-mouse peep\\nMeagre from its celled sleep\\nAnd the snake all winter-thin\\nCast on sunny bank its skin\\nFreckled nest-eggs thou shalt see\\nHatching in the hawthorn-tree, 60\\nWhen the hen-bird s wing doth rest\\nQuiet on her mossy nest\\nThen the hurry and alarm\\nWhen the bee-hive casts its swarm\\nAcorns ripe down-pattering\\nWhile the autumn breezes sing.\\nOh, sweet Fancy let her loose\\nEverything is spoilt by use\\nWhere s the cheek that doth not fade,\\nToo much gazed at Where s the maid 70", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "2i8 THE POEMS OF .j\\nWhose lip mature is ever aew\\nWhere s the eye, however blue,\\nDoes not weary Where s tlie face\\nOne would meet in every place\\nWhere s the voice, however soft,\\nOne would hear so ve.-y oft\\nAt a touch sweet Plea; eth\\nLike to bubbles when 1 1 h\\nLet, then, winged Fane\\nThee a mistress to thy i 80\\nDulcet-eyed as Ceres daughter\\nEre the God of Torment taught her\\nHow to frown and how to chide\\nWith a waist and with a side\\nWhite as Hebe s, when her zone\\nSlipt its golden clasp, and down\\nFell her kirtle to her feet,\\nWhile she held the goblet sweet,\\nAnd Jove grew languid. Break the mesh\\nOf the Fancy s silken leash 90\\nQuickly break her prison- string.\\nAnd such j oy s as these she 11 bring.\\nLet the winged Fancy roam,\\nPleasure never is at home.\\nODE\\nBards of Passion and of Mirth,\\nYe have left your souls on earth\\nHave ye souls in heaven too.\\nDouble-lived in regions new\\nYes, and those of heaven commune\\nWith the spheres of sun and moon\\nWith the noise of fountains wond rous\\nAnd the parle of voices thund rous\\nWith the whisper of heaven s trees\\nAnd one another, in soft ease", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "SONG 219\\nSeated on Elysian lawns\\nBrowsed by none but Dian s fawns\\nUnderneath large blue-bells tented,\\nWhere the daisies are rose-scented,\\nAnd the rose herself has got\\nPerfume which on earth is not\\nWhere the nightingale doth sing\\nNot a senseless, tranced thing.\\nBut iivine melodious truth\\nPhilcsophic numbers smooth 20\\nTales and golden histories\\nOf heaven and its mysteries.\\nThus ye live on high, and then,\\nOn the earth ye live again\\nAnd the souls ye left behind you\\nTeach us, here, the way to find you,\\nWhere your other souls are joying,\\nNever slumber d, never cloying.\\nHere, your earth-born souls still speak\\nTo mortals, of their little week 30\\nOf their sorrows and delights\\nOf their passions and their spites\\nOf their glory and their shame\\nWhat doth strengthen and what maim.\\nThus ye teach us, every day.\\nWisdom, though fled far away.\\nBards of Passion and of Mirth,\\nYe have left your souls on earth\\nYe have souls in heaven too.\\nDouble-lived in regions new 40\\nSONG\\nI HAD a dove and the sweet dove died\\nAnd I have thought it died of grieving", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "220 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nO, what could it grieve for Its feet were tied,\\nWith a silken thread of my own hand s weav-\\ning;\\nSweet little red feet why should you die\\nWhy should you leave me, sweet bird why\\nYou lived alone in the forest-tree,\\nWhy, pretty thing would you not live with\\nme?\\nI kiss d you oft and gave you white peas\\nWhy not live sweetly, as in the green trees\\nODE ON MELANCHOLY\\nNo, no go not to Lethe, neither twist\\nWolf s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine\\nNor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss d\\nBy nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine\\nMake not your rosary of yew-berries.\\nNor let the beetle, or the death-moth be\\nYour mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl\\nA partner in your sorrow s mysteries\\nFor shade to shade will come too drowsily,\\nAnd drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.\\nBut when the melancholy fit shall fall\\nSudden from heaven like a weeping cloud.\\nThat fosters the droop-headed flowers all,\\nAnd hides the green hills in an April shroud\\nThen glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,\\nOr on the rainbow of the salt-sand wave,\\nOr on the wealth of globed peonies\\nOr if thy mistress some rich anger shows,\\nEmprison her soft hand, and let her rave,\\nAnd feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 221\\nShe dwells with Beauty Beauty that must die\\nAnd Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips\\nBidding adieu and aching Pleasure nigh,\\nTurning to poison while the bee-mouth sips\\nAye, in the very temple of Delight\\nVeil d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,\\nThough seen of none save him whose strenuous\\ntongue\\nCan burst Joy s grape against his palate fine\\nHis soul shall taste the sadness of her might.\\nAnd be among her cloudy trophies hung.\\nTHE EVE OF ST. AGNES\\nSt. Agnes Eve Ah, bitter chill it was\\nThe owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold\\nThe hare limp d trembling through the frozen grass.\\nAnd silent was the flock in woolly fold\\nNumb were the Beadsman s fingers, while he told\\nHis rosary, and while his frosted breath.\\nLike pious incense from a censer old,\\nSeem d taking flight for heaven, without a death.\\nPast the sweet Virgin s picture, while his prayer he\\nsaith,\\nII\\nHis prayer he saith, this patient, holy man\\nThen takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees,\\nAnd back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan\\nAlong the chapel aisle by slow degrees\\nThe sculptured dead, on each side, seem to freeze,\\nEmprison d in black, purgatorial rails\\nKnights, ladies, praying in dumb orat ries,\\nHe passeth by and his weak spirit fails\\nTo think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "222 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nNorthward he turneth through a little door,\\nAnd scarce three steps, ere Music s golden tongue\\nFlatter d to tears this aged man and poor\\nBut no already had his death-bell rung\\nThe j oys of all his life were said and sung\\nHis was harsh penance on St. Agnes Eve\\nAnother way he went, and soon among\\nRough ashes sat he for his soul s reprieve,\\nAnd all night kept awake, for sinners sake to\\ngrieve.\\nThat ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft\\nAnd so it chanced, for many a door was wide,\\nFrom hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft.\\nThe silver, snarling trumpets gan to chide\\nThe level chambers, ready with their pride,\\nWere glowing to receive a thousand guests\\nThe carved angels, ever eager-eyed.\\nStared, where upon their heads the cornice rests,\\nWith hair blown back, and wings put crosswise on\\ntheir breasts.\\nAt length burst in the argent revelry,\\nWith plume, tiara, and all rich array.\\nNumerous as shadows haunting fairily\\nThe brain, new-stuff d, in youth, with triump? s\\ngay\\nOf old romance. These let us wish away.\\nAnd turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there.\\nWhose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,\\nOn love, and wing d St. Agnes saintly care.\\nAs she had heard old dames full many times de-\\nclare.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 2^3\\nVI\\nThey told her how, upon St. Agnes Eve,\\nYoung virgins might have visions of delight,\\nAnd soft adorings from their loves receive\\nUpon the honey d middle of the night,\\nIf ceremonies due they did aright\\nAs, supperless to bed they must retire.\\nAnd couch supine their beauties, lily white\\nNor look behind, nor sideways, but require\\nOf Heaven with upward eyes for all that they de-\\nsire.\\nVII\\nFull of this whim was thoughtful Madeline\\nThe music, yearning like a God in pain.\\nShe scarcely heard her maiden eyes divine,\\nFix d on the floor, saw many a sweeping train\\nPass by she heeded not at all in vain\\nCame many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier,\\nAnd back retired not cool d by high disdain,\\nBut she saw not her heart was otherwhere\\nShe sigh d for Agnes dreams, the sweetest of the\\nyear.\\nVIII\\nShe danced along with vague, regardless eyes,\\nAnxious her lips, her breathing quick and short\\nThe hallow d hour was near at hand she sighs\\nAmid the timbrels, and the throng d resort\\nOf whisperers in anger, or in sport\\nMid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn,\\nHoodwink d with faery fancy all amort.\\nSave to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn.\\nAnd all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn.\\nIX\\nSo, purposing each moment to retire,\\nShe linger d still. Meantime, across the moors,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "224 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nHad come young Porphyro, with heart on fire\\nFor Madeline. Beside the portal doors,\\nButtress d from moonlight, stands he, and implores\\nAll saints to give him sight of Madeline,\\nBut for one moment in the tedious hours,\\nThat he might gaze and worship all unseen\\nPerchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss in sooth such\\nthings have been.\\nHe ventures in let no buzz d whisper tell\\nAll eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords\\nWill storm his heart. Love s fev rous citadel\\nFor him, those chambers held barbarian hordes.\\nHyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords.\\nWhose very dogs would execrations howl\\nAgainst his lineage not one breast affords\\nHim any mercy, in that mansion foul.\\nSave one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.\\nAh, happy chance the aged creature came.\\nShuffling along with ivory -headed wand,\\nTo where he stood, hid from the torch s flame,\\nBehind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond\\nThe sound of merriment and chorus bland\\nHe startled her but soon she knew his face,\\nAnd grasp d his fingers in her palsied hand.\\nSaying, Mercy, Porphyro 1 hie thee from this\\nplace\\nThey are all here to-night, the whole bloodthirsty\\nrace\\nXII\\nGet hence get hence there s dwarfish Hilde-\\nbrand\\nHe had a fever late, and in the fit\\nHe cursed thee and thine, both house and land", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 225\\nTlien there s that old Lord Maurice, not a whit\\nMore tame for his gray hairs Alas me flit\\nFlit like a ghost away. Ah, Gossip dear,\\nWe re safe enough here in this armchair sit.\\nAnd tell me how Good Saints not here, not\\nhere;\\nFollow me, child, or else these stones will be thy\\nbier.\\nXIII\\nHe follow d through a lowly arched way,\\nBrushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume\\nAnd as she mutter d Well-a well-a-day\\nHe found him in a little moonlight room,\\nPale, latticed, chill, and silent as a tomb.\\nNow tell me where is Madeline, said he,\\nO tell me, Angela, by the holy loom\\nWhich none but secret sisterhood may see,\\nWhen they St. Agnes wool are weaving piously.*\\nSt. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes Eve\\nYet men will murder upon holy days\\nThou must hold water in a witch s sieve.\\nAnd be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays,\\nTo venture so it fills me with amaze\\nTo see thee, Porphyro St. Agnes Eve\\nGod s help! my lady fair the conjurer plays\\nThis very night good angels her deceive\\nBut let me laugh awhile, I ve mickle time to\\ngrieve.\\nXV\\nFeebly she laugheth in the languid moon,\\nWhile Porphyro upon her face doth look.\\nLike puzzled urchin on an aged crone\\nWho keepeth closed a v/ond rous riddle-book,\\nAs spectacled she sits in chimney nook.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "226 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nBut soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told\\nHis lady s purpose and he scarce could brook\\nTears, at the thought of those enchantments cold,\\nAnd Madeline asleep in lap of legends old.\\nSudden a thought came like a full-blown roSe,\\nFlushing his brow, and in his pained heart\\nMade purple riot then doth he propose\\nA stratagem, that makes the beldame start\\nA cruel man and impious thou art\\nSweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream\\nAlone with her good angels, far apart\\nFrom wicked men like thee. Go, go I deem\\nThou canst not surely be the same that thou didst\\nseem.\\nI will not harm her, by all saints I swear,\\nQuoth Porphyro O may I ne er iSnd grace\\nWhen my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer,\\nIf one of her soft ringlets I displace.\\nOr look with ruffian passion in her face\\nGood Angela, believe me by these tears\\nOr I will, even in a moment s space.\\nAwake, with horrid shout, my foemen s ears.\\nAnd beard them, though they be more fang d than\\nwolves and bears.\\nAh why wilt thou affright a feeble soul\\nA poor, weak, palsy-stricken, church-yard thing.\\nWhose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll\\nWhose prayers for thee, each morn and even-\\ning,\\nWere never miss d. Thus plaining, doth she\\nbring\\nA gentler speech from burning Porphyro", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 227\\nSo woful, and of such deep sorrowing,\\nThat Angela gives promise she will do\\nWhatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe.\\nWhich was, to lead him, in close secrecy,\\nEven to Madeline s chamber, and there hide\\nHim in a closet, of such privacy\\nThat he might see her beauty unespied,\\nAnd win perhaps that night a peerless bride,\\nWhile legion d fairies paced the coverlet.\\nAnd pale enchantment held her sleepy-eyed.\\nNever on such a night have lovers met.\\nSince Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous\\ndebt.\\nIt shall be as thou wishest, said the Dame\\nAll cates and dainties shall be stored there\\nQuickly on this feast-night by the tambour frame\\nHer own lute thou wilt see no time to spare,\\nFor I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare\\nOn such a catering trust my dizzy head.\\nWait here, my child, with patience; kneel in\\nprayer\\nThe while Ah thou must needs the lady wed.\\nOr may I never leave my grave among the dead.\\nSo saying she hobbled oif with busy fear.\\nThe lover s endless minutes slowly pass d\\nThe Dame retm-n d, and whisper d in his ear\\nTo follow her with aged eyes aghast\\nFrom fright of dim espial. Safe at last,\\nThrough many a dusky gallery, they gain\\nThe maiden s chamber, silken, hush d and chaste\\nWhere Porphyro took covert, pleased amain.\\nHis poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "228 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nXXII\\nHer falt ring hand upon the balustrade,\\nOld Angela was feeling for the stair.\\nWhen Madeline, St. Agnes charmed maid,\\nRose, like a mission d spirit, unaware\\nWith silver taper s light, and pious care.\\nShe turn d, -and down the aged gossip led\\nTo a safe level matting. Now prepare.\\nYoung Porphyro, for gazing on that bed\\nShe comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray d\\nand fled.\\nXXIII\\nOut went the taper as she hurried in\\nIts little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:\\nShe closed the door, she panted, all akin\\nTo spirits of the air, and visions wide\\nNo uttered syllable, or, woe betide\\nBut to her heart, her heart was voluble,\\nPaining with eloquence her balmy side\\nAs though a tongueless nightingale should swell\\nHer throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled in her dell.\\nA casement high and triple arch d there was,\\nAll garlanded with carven imag ries\\nOf fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass.\\nAnd diamonded with panes of quaint device,\\nInnumerable of stains and splendid dyes.\\nAs are the tiger-moth s deep-damask d wings\\nAnd in the midst, mong thousand heraldries,\\nAnd twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,\\nA shielded scutcheon blush d with blood of queens\\nand kings.\\nFull on this casement shone the wintry moon.\\nAnd threw warm gules on Madeline s fair breast.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 229\\nAs down she knelt for heaven s grace and boon\\nRose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,\\nAnd on her silver cross soft amethyst,\\nAnd on her hair a glory, like a saint\\nShe seem d a splendid angel, newly drest,\\nSave wings, for heaven Porphyro grew faint\\nShe knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal\\ntaint.\\nXXVI\\nAnon his heart revives her vespers done.\\nOf all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees\\nUnclasps her warmed jewels one by one\\nLoosens her fragrant bodice by degrees\\nHer rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:\\nHalf-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed.\\nPensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,\\nIn fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,\\nBut dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.\\nxxvii\\nSoon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,\\nIn sort of wakeful swoon, perplex d she lay,\\nUntil the poppied warmth of sleep oppress d\\nHer soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away\\nFlown, like a thought, until the morrow-day\\nBlissfully haven d both from joy and pain\\nClasp d like a missal where swart Paynims pray\\nBlinded alike from sunshine and from rain,\\nAs though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.\\nStol n to this paradise, and so entranced,\\nPorphyro gazed upon her empty dress,\\nAnd listen d to her breathing, if it chanced\\nTo wake into a slumberous tenderness\\nWhich when he heard, that minute did he bless,\\nAnd breathed himself then from the closet crept,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "230 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nNoiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,\\nAnd over the hush d carpet, silent, stept,\\nAnd tween the curtains peep d, where, lo how\\nfast she slept. m\\nThen by the bed-side, where the faded moon\\nMade a dim, silver twilight, soft he set\\nA table, and, half-anguish d, threw thereon\\nA cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet\\nO for some drowsy Morphean amulet\\nThe boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,\\nThe kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,\\nAffray his ears, though but in dying tone\\nThe hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.\\nXXX\\nAnd still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,\\nIn blanched linen, smooth, and lavender d,\\nWhile he from forth the closet brought a heap\\nOf candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd\\nWith jellies soother than the creamy curd,\\nAnd lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon\\nManna and dates, in argosy transferr d\\nFrom Fez and spiced dainties, every one,\\nFrom silken Samarcand to cedar d Lebanon.\\nXXXI\\nThese delicates he heap d with glowing hand\\nOn golden dishes and in baskets bright\\nOf wreathed silver sumptuous they stand\\nIn the retired quiet of the night.\\nFilling the chilly room with perfume light.\\nAnd now, my love, my seraph fair, awake\\nThou art my heaven, and I thine eremite\\nOpen thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes sake,\\nOr I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth\\nache.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 231\\nXXXII\\nThus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm\\nSank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream\\nBy the dusk cui tains: t was a midnight charm\\nImpossible to melt as iced stream\\nThe lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam\\nBroad golden fringe upon the carpet lies\\nIt seem d he never, never could redeem\\nFrom such a steadfast spell his lady s eyes\\nSo mused awhile, entoil d in woofed phantasies.\\nAwakening up, he took her hollow lute,\\nTumultuous, and, in chords that tenderest be,\\nHe play d an ancient ditty, long since mute.\\nIn Provence call d La belle dame sans mercy\\nClose to her ear touching the melody\\nWherewith disturb d, she utter d a soft moan:\\nHe ceased she panted quick and suddenly\\nHer blue affrayed eyes wide open shone\\nUpon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured\\nstone.\\nXXXIV\\nHer eyes were open, but she still beheld,\\nNow wide awake, the vision of her sleep\\nThere was a painful change, that nigh oYpeU d\\nThe blisses of her dream so pure and d .ep\\nAt which fair Madeline began to weep.\\nAnd moan forth witless words with many a sigh\\nWhile still her gaze on Porphyro would keep\\nWho knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye.\\nFearing to move or speak, she look d so Jicamingiy.\\nXXXV\\nAh, Porphyro said she, but even now\\nThy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "232 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nMade tuneable with every sweetest vow\\nAnd those sad eyes were spiritual and clear\\nHow changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and\\ndrear\\nGive me that voice again, my Porphyro,\\nThose looks immortal, those complainings dear I\\nOh leave me not in this eternal woe.\\nFor if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go.*\\nXXXVI\\nBeyond a mortal man impassion d far\\nAt these voluptuous accents, he arose,\\nEthereal, flush d, and like a throbbing star\\nSeen mid the sapphire heaven s deep repose\\nInto her dream he melted, as the rose\\nBlendeth its odour with the violet,\\nSolution sweet meantime the frost- wind blows\\nLike Love s alarum pattering the sharp sleet\\nAgainst the window-panes St. Agnes moon hath set.\\nxxxvii\\nT is dark quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet\\nThis is no dream, my bride, my Madeline\\nT is dark the iced gusts still rave and beat\\nNo dream, alas alas and woe is mine\\nPorphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.\\nCruel what traitor could thee hither bring\\nX curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,\\nThough thou forsakest a deceived thing\\nA dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing.\\nxxxviii\\nMy Madeline sweet dreamer lovely bride\\nSay, may I be for aye thy vassal blest\\nThy beauty s shield, heart-shaped and vermeil\\ndyed?\\nAh, silver shrine, here will I take my rest\\nAfter so many hours of toil and quest.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 233\\nA famish d pilgrim, saved by miracle.\\nThough I have found, I will not rob thy nest\\nSaving of thy sweet self if thou think st well\\nTo trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel.\\nHark t is an elfin storm from faery land,\\nOf haggard seeming, but a boon indeed\\nArise arise the morning is at hand\\nThe bloated wassailers will never heed\\nLet us away, my love, with happy speed\\nThere are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,\\nDrown d all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead\\nAwake arise my love, and fearless be,\\nFor o er the southern moors I have a home for thee.\\nShe huri ied at his words, beset with fears,\\nFor there were sleeping dragons all around.\\nAt glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears\\nDown the wide stairs a darkling way they\\nfound.\\nIn all the house was heard no human sound.\\nA chain-droop*d lamp was flickering by each door\\nThe arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,\\nFlutter d in the besieging wind s uproar\\nAnd the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.\\nXLI\\nThey glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall\\nLike phantoms to the iron porch they glide.\\nWhere lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,\\nWith a huge empty flagon by his side\\nThe wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,\\nBut his sagacious eye an inmate owns:\\nBy one, and one, the bolts full easy slide\\nThe chains lie silent on the footworn stones\\nThe key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "234 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nAnd they are gone aye, ages long ago\\nThese lovers fled away into the storm.\\nThat night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,\\nAnd all his warrior-guests, with shade and form\\nOf witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,\\nWere long be-nightmared. Angela the old\\nDied palsy-twitch d, with meagre face deform\\nThe Beadsman, after thousand aves told,\\nFor aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.\\nODE ON A GRECIAN URN\\nThou still unravish d bride of quietness,\\nThou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,\\nSylvan historian, who canst thus express\\nA flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme\\nWhat leaf -fringed legend haunts about thy shape\\nOf deities or mortals, or of both,\\nIn Tempe or the dales of Arcady\\nWhat men or gods are these what maidens loth\\nWhat mad pursuit What struggle to escape\\nWhat pipes and timbrels What wild ecstacy\\nII\\nHeard melodies are sweet, but those unheard\\nAre sweeter therefore, ye soft pipes, play on\\nNot to the sensual ear, but, more endear d\\nPipe to the spirit ditties of no tone\\nFair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave\\nThy song, nor ever can those trees be bare\\nBold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,\\nThough winning near the goal yet, do not grieve\\nShe cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,\\nFor ever wilt thou love, and she be fair", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "ODE ON A GRECIAN URN 235\\nIII\\nAh, happy, happy boughs that cannot shed\\nYour leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu\\nAnd, happy melodist, unwearied,\\nFor ever piping songs for ever new\\nMore happy love more happy, happy love\\nFor ever warm and still to be enjoy d.\\nFor ever panting, and for ever young\\nAll breathing human passion far above,\\nThat leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy d,\\nA burning forehead, and a parching tongue.\\nIV\\nWho are these coming to the sacrifice\\nTo what green altar, O mysterious priest,\\nLead St thou that heifer lowing at the skies.\\nAnd all her silken flanks with garlands drest\\nWhat little town by river or sea shore.\\nOr mountain-built with peaceful citadel.\\nIs emptied of this folk, this pious morn\\nAnd, little town, thy streets for evermore\\nWill silent be and not a soul to tell\\nWhy thou art desolate, can e er return.\\nV\\nO Attic shade Fair attitude with brede\\nOf marble men and maidens overwrought,\\nWith forest branches and the trodden weed\\nThou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought\\nAs doth eternity Cold Pastoral\\nWhen old age shall this generation waste,\\nThou shalt remain, in midst of other woe\\nThan ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say st,\\nBeauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all\\nYe know on earth, and all ye need to know.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "236 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nODE ON INDOLENCE\\nThey toil not, neither do they spin.\\nI\\nOne morn before me were three figiires seen,\\nWith bowed necks, and j oined hands, side-faced\\nAnd one behind the other stepp d serene.\\nIn placid sandals, and in white robes graced\\nThey pass d, like figures on a marble urn,\\nWhen shifted round to see the other side\\nThey came again as when the urn once more\\nIs shifted round, the first seen shades return\\nAnd they were strange to me, as may betide\\nWith vases, to one deep in Phidian lore.\\nHow is it, Shadows that I knew ye not\\nHow came ye mulfled in so hush a mask\\nWas it a silent deep-disguised plot\\nTo steal away, and leave without a task\\nMy idle days Ripe was the drowsy hour\\nThe blissful cloud of summer-indolence\\nBenumb d my eyes my pulse grew less and\\nless;\\nPain had no sting, and pleasure s wreath no flower\\nO, why did ye not melt, and leave my sense\\nUnhaunted quite of all but nothingness\\nA third time pass d they by, and, passing, turn d\\nEach one the face a moment whiles to me\\nThen faded, and to follow them I burn d\\nAnd ached for wings, because I knew the three\\nThe first was a fair Maid, and Love her name\\nThe second was Ambition, pale of cheek,\\nAnd ever watchful with fatigued eye\\nThe last, whom I love more, the more of blame", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "ODE ON INDOLENCE 237\\nIs heap d upon her, maiden most unmeek,\\nI knew to be my demon Poesy.\\nIV\\nThey faded, and, forsooth 1 I wanted wings\\nO folly What is Love and where is it\\nAnd for that poor Ambition it springs\\nFrom a man s little heart s short fever-fit\\nFor Poesy no, she has not a joy,\\nAt least for me, so sweet as drowsy noons,\\nAnd evenings steep d in honied indolence\\nO, for an age so shelter d from annoy,\\nThat I may never know how change the moons,\\nOr hear the voice of busy common-sense\\nAnd once more came they by alas wherefore\\nMy sleep had been embroider d with dim dreams\\nMy soul had been a lawn besprinkled o er\\nWith flowers, and stirring shades, and baffled\\nbeams\\nThe morn was clouded, but no shower fell,\\nTho in her lids hung the sweet tears of May\\nThe open casement press d a new-leaved vine.\\nLet in the budding warmth and throstle s lay\\nO Shadows t was a time to bid farewell\\nUpon your skirts had fallen no tears of mine.\\nVI\\nSo, ye three Ghosts, adieu 1 Ye cannot raise\\nMy head cool-bedded in the flowery grass\\nFor I would not be dieted with praise,\\nA pet-lamb in a sentimental farce\\nFade softly from my eyes and be once more\\nIn masque-like figures on the dreamy urn\\nFarewell I yet have visions for the night.\\nAnd for the day faint visions there is store\\nVanish, ye Phantoms from my idle spright,\\nInto the clouds, and nevermore return", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "238 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nSONNET\\nWhy did I laugh to-night No voice will tell\\nNo God, no Demon of severe response,\\nDeigns to reply from Heaven or from Hell\\nThen to my human heart I turn at once.\\nHeart 1 Thou and I are here sad and alone\\nI say, why did I laugh O mortal pain\\nO Darkness Darkness ever must I moan.\\nTo question Heaven and Hell and Heart in vain.\\nWhy did I laugh I know this Being s lease.\\nMy fancy to its utmost blisses spreads\\nYet would I on this very midnight cease,\\nAnd the world s gaudy ensigns see in shreds\\nVerse, Fame, and Beauty are intense indeed,\\nBut Death intenser Death is Life s high meed.\\nODE TO FANNY\\nPhysician Nature let my spirit blood\\nO ease my heart of verse and let me rest\\nThrow me upon thy Tripod, till the flood\\nOf stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast.\\nA theme a theme great Nature give\\ntheme\\nLet me begin my dream.\\nI come I see thee, as thou standest there\\nBeckon me not into the wintry air.\\nAh dearest love, sweet home of all my fears.\\nAnd hopes, and joys, and panting miseries,\\nTo-night, if I may guess, thy beauty wears\\nA smile of such delight.\\nAs brilliant and as bright.\\nAs when with ravish d, aching, vassal eyes,\\nLost in soft amaze,\\nI gaze, I gaze", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "ODE TO FANNY 239\\nWho now, with greedy looks, eats up my feast 1\\nWhat stare outfaces now my silver moon\\nAh keep that hand unravished at the least\\nLet, let the amorous burn\\nBut, pr ythee, do not turn\\nThe current of your heart from me so soon.\\nO save, in charity,\\nThe quickest pulse for me.\\nSave it for me, sweet love though music breathe\\nVoluptuous visions into the warm air,\\nThough swimming through the dance s dangerous\\nwreath\\nBe like an April day\\nSmiling and cold and gay,\\nA temperate lily, temperatf as fair\\nThen, Heaven there will be\\nA warmer June for me.\\nWhy, this you 11 say, my my is not true:\\nPut your soft hand upon y: ^r snowy side,\\nWhere the heart beats confess t is nothing new\\nMust not a woman be\\nI A feather on the sea,\\nSway d to and fro by every wind and tide\\nOf as uncertain speed\\nAs blow-ball from the mead\\nI know it and to know it is despair\\nTo one who loves you as I love, sweet Fanny\\nWhose heart goes fluttering for you everywhere,\\nNor, when away you roam.\\nDare keep its wretched home\\nLove, love alone, has pains severe and many\\nThen, loveliest keep me free\\nFrom torturing jealousy.\\nAh if you prize my subdued soul above\\nThe poor, the fading, brief pride of an hour", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "^o THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nj\u00c2\u00ab I none profane my Holy See of love,\\nOr with a rude hand break\\nr ie sacramental cake:\\nLet lone else touch the just new-budded flower;\\nIf lot may my eyes close,\\nLo^ c on their last repose.\\nA DREAM, AFTER READING DANTE S\\nEPISODE OF PAOLO AND FRANCESCA\\nAs Hermes once rook to his feathers light,\\nWhen liiliod Argus, baffled, swoon d and slept\\nSo on a Delphic reed, my idle spright\\nSo play d, so cL-arm d, so conquer d, so bereft\\nThe dragon- world 01 a, its hundred eyes\\nAnd seeing it asleep, so fled away\\nNot to pure Ida with its siiow-cold skies.\\nNor unto Tempe where J ove grieved a day\\nBut to that second circle of Md hell.\\nWhere mid the gust, the w lirl wind, and the flaw\\nOf rain and hai] stonefi, lovers need not tell\\nTheir sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw.\\nPale were the lips i kiss d, and fair the form\\nI floated with, about that melancholy storm.\\nLA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI\\nAh, what can ail thee, wretched wight,\\nAlone and palely loitering\\nThe sedge is wither d from the lake,\\nAnd no birds sing.\\nAh, what can ail thee, wretched wight,\\nSo haggard and so woe-begone", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI 241\\nThe squirrel s granary is full,\\nAnd the harvest s done.\\nI see a lily on thy brow,\\nWith anguish moist and fever dew\\nAnd on thy cheek a fading rose\\nFast withereth too.\\nI met a lady in the meads,\\nFull beautiful a faery s child\\nHer hair was long, her foot was light,\\nAnd her eyes were wild.\\nI set her on my pacing steed,\\nAnd nothing else saw all day long,\\nFor sideways would she lean, and sing\\nA faery s song.\\nI made a garland for her head,\\nAnd bracelets too, and fragrant zone\\nShe look d at me as she did love,\\nAnd made sweet moan.\\nVII\\nShe found me roots of relish sweet.\\nAnd honey wild, and manna dew\\nAnd sure in language strange she said\\nI love thee true.\\nVIII\\nShe took me to her elfin grot.\\nAnd there she gazed, and sighed deep,\\nAnd there I shut her wild wild eyes\\nSo kiss d to sleep.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "242 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nIX\\nAnd there we slumber d on the moss,\\nAnd there I dream d Ah woe betide\\nThe latest dream I ever dream d\\nOn the cold hill side.\\nI saw pale kings, and princes too,\\nPale warriors, death-pale were they all\\nThey cried La Belle Dame sans Merci\\nHath thee in thrall\\nI saw their starved lips in the gloam,\\nWith horrid warning gaped wide,\\nAnd I awoke, and found me here\\nOn the cold hill side.\\nAnd this is why I sojourn here,\\nAlone and palely loitering,\\nThough the sedge is wither d from the lake,\\nAnd no birds sing.\\nCHORUS OF FAIRIES\\nFIKE, AIK, EARTH, AND WATER\\nSALAMANDER, ZEPHYR, DUSKETHA, AND BREAMA\\nSALAMANDER\\nHappy, happy glowing fire\\nZEPHYR\\nFragrant air 1 delicious light\\nDUSKETHA\\nLet me to my glooms retire", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "CHORUS OF FAIRIES 243\\nBREAMA\\nI to green-weed rivers bright\\nSALAMANDER\\nHappy, happy glowing fire\\nDazzling bowers of soft retire,\\nEver let my nourish d wing,\\nLike a bat s, still wandering,\\nFaintly fan your fiery spaces,\\nSpirit sole in deadly places. 10\\nIn unhaunted roar and blaze,\\nOpen eyes that never daze,\\nLet me see the myriad shapes\\nOf men, and beasts, and fish, and apes,\\nPortray d in many a fiery den,\\nAnd wrought by spumy bitumen.\\nOn the deep intenser roof,\\nArched every way, aloof,\\nLet me breathe upon my skies,\\nAnd anger their live tapestries ao\\nFree from cold, and every care.\\nOf chilly rain, and shivering air.\\nZEPHYR\\nSpright of Fire away away\\nOr your very roundelay\\nWill sear my plumage newly budded\\nFrom its quilled sheath, and studded\\nWith the self-same dews that fell\\nOn the May-grown Asphodel.\\nSpright of Fire away away 1\\nSpright of Fire away away 30\\nZephyr, blue-eyed Faery, turn.\\nAnd see my cool sedge-shaded urn.\\nWhere it rests its mossy brim\\nMid water-mint and cresses dim", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "244 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nAnd th\u00c2\u00bb flowers, in sweet troubles,\\nLift their eyes above the bubbles,\\nLike our Queen, when she would please\\nTo sleep, and Oberon will tease.\\nLove me, blue-eyed Faery true,\\nSoothly I am sick for you. 40\\nZEPHYR\\nGentle Breama by the first\\nViolet young nature nurst,\\nI will bathe myself with thee,\\nSo you sometime follow me\\nTo my home, far, far, in west,\\nFar beyond the search and quest\\nOf the golden-browed sun.\\nCome with me, o er tops of trees,\\nTo my fragrant palaces,\\nWhere they ever floating are 50\\nBeneath the cherish of a star\\nCall d Vesper, who with silver veil\\nEver hides his brilliance pale.\\nEver gently-drowsed doth keep\\nTwilight for the Fays to sleep.\\nFear not that your watery hair\\nWill thirst in drouthy ringlets there\\nClouds of stored summer rains\\nThou shalt taste, before the stains\\nOf the mountain soil they take, 60\\nAnd too unlucent for thee make.\\nI love thee, crystal Faery, true\\nSooth I am as sick for you\\nSALAMANDER\\nOut, ye aguish Faeries, out\\nChilly lovers, what a rout\\nKeep ye with yoiu- frozen breath,\\nColder than the mortal death.\\nAdder-eyed Dusketha, speak,\\nShall we leave them, and go seek", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "CHORUS OF FAIRIES 245\\nIn the earth s wide entrails old 70\\nCouches warm as theirs is cold\\nfor a fiery gloom and thee,\\nDusketha, so enchantingly\\nFreckle-wing d and lizard-sided\\nDUSKETHA\\nBy thee, Spright, will I be guided\\n1 care not for cold or heat\\nFrost and flame, or sparks, or sleet,\\nTo my essence are the same\\nBut I honour more the flame.\\nSpright of fire, I follow thee 80\\nWheresoever it may be\\nTo the torrid spouts and fountains,\\nUnderneath earth-quaked mountains\\nOr, at thy supreme desire,\\nTouch the very pulse of fire\\nWith my bare unlidded eyes.\\nSALAMANDER\\nSweet Dusketha paradise\\nOff, ye icy Spirits, fly\\nFrosty creatures of the sky\\nDUSKETHA\\nBreathe upon them, fiery Spright 90\\nZEPHYR, BREAMA {to each other)\\nAway away to our delight\\nSALAMANDER\\nGo, feed on icicles, while we\\nBedded in tongued flames will be.\\nDUSKETHA\\nLead me to these fev rous glooms,\\nSpright of Fire", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "246 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nMe to the blooms,\\nBlue eyed Zephyr of those flowers\\nFar in the west where the May-cloud lowers\\nAnd the beams of still Vesper, where winds are\\nall whist,\\nAre shed thro the rain and the milder mist,\\nAnd twilight your floating bowers. 100\\nFAERY SONGS\\nI\\nShed no tear O shed no tear\\nThe flower will bloom another year.\\nWeep no more O weep no more\\nYoung buds sleep in the root s white core.\\nDry your eyes O dry your eyes,\\nFor I was taught in Paradise\\nTo ease my breast of melodies\\nShed no tear.\\nOverhead look overhead\\nMong the blossoms white and red\\nLook up, look up I flutter now\\nOn this flush pomegranate bough.\\nSee me t is this silvery bill\\nEver cures the good man s ill.\\nShed no tear O shed no tear\\nThe flower will bloom another year.\\nAdieu, Adieu I fly, adieu,\\nI vanish in the heaven s blue\\nAdieu, Adieu\\nAh woe is me poor silver-wing\\nThat I must chant thy lady s dirge,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "ON FAME 247\\nAnd death to this fair haunt of spring,\\nOf melody, and streams of flowery verge,\\nPoor silver-wing ah woe is me\\nThat I must see\\nThese blossoms snow upon thy lady s pall\\nGo, pretty page and in her ear\\nWhisper that the hour is near\\nSoftly tell her not to fear\\nSuch calm favonian burial\\nGo, pretty page and soothly tell,\\nThe blossoms hang by a melting spell,\\nAnd fall they must, ere a star wink thrice\\nUpon her closed eyes,\\nThat now in vain are weeping their last tears,\\nAt sweet life leaving, and those arbours green,\\nRich dowry from the Spirit of the Spheres,\\nAlas poor Queen\\nON FAME\\nYou cannot eat your cake and have it too. Proverb.\\nHow fever d is that man, who cannot look\\nUpon his mortal days with temperate blood,\\nWho vexes all the leaves of his life s book.\\nAnd robs his fair name of its maidenhood\\nIt is as if the rose should pluck herself.\\nOr the ripe plum finger its misty bloom\\nAs if a Naiad, like a meddling elf.\\nShould darken her pure grot with muddy gloom.\\nBut the rose leaves herself upon the brier,\\nFor winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.\\nAnd the ripe plum still wears its dim attire,\\nThe undisturbed lake has crystal space\\nWhy then should man, teasing the world for\\ngrace,\\nSpoil his salvation for a fierce miscreed?", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "248 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nANOTHER ON FAME\\nFame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy\\nTo those who woo her with too slavish knees,\\nBut makes surrender to some thoughtless boy,\\nAnd dotes the more upon a heart at ease\\nShe is a Gipsy, will not speak to those\\nWho have not learnt to be content without her\\nA Jilt, whose ear was never whisper d close,\\nWho thinks they scandal her who talk about\\nher;\\nA very Gipsy is she, Nilus-born,\\nSister-in-law to jealous Potiphar\\nYe lovesick Bards repay her scorn for scorn\\nYe Artists lovelorn madmen that ye are\\nMake your best bow to her and bid adieu,\\nThen, if she likes it, she will follow you.\\nTO SLEEP\\nO SOFT embalmer of the still midnight.\\nShutting, with careful fingers and benign.\\nOur gloomj^leased eyes, embower d from the light,\\nEnshaded in forgetfulness divine\\nO soothest Sleep if so it please thee, close,\\nIn midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,\\nOr wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws\\nAround my bed its dewy charities\\nThen save me, or the passed day will shine\\nUpon my pillow, breeding many woes\\nSave me from curious conscience, that still lords\\nIts strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole\\nTurn the key deftly in the oiled wards.\\nAnd seal the hushed casket of my soul.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "ODE TO PSYCHE 249\\nODE TO PSYCHE\\nGoddess hear these tuneless numbers, wrung\\nBy sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,\\nAnd pardon that thy secrets should be sung\\nEven into thine own soft-conched ear:\\nSurely I dreamt to-day, or did I see\\nThe winged Psyche with awaken d eyes\\n1 wander d in a forest thoughtlessly,\\nAnd, on the sudden, fainting with surprise.\\nSaw two fair creatures, couched side by side\\nIn deepest grass, beneath the whisp ring roof\\nOf leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran\\nA brooklet, scarce espied\\nMid hush d, cool-rooted flowers fragrant eyed,\\nBlue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,\\nThey lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass\\nTheir arms embraced, and their pinions too\\nTheir lips touch d not, but had not bade adieu,\\nAs if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,\\nAnd ready still past kisses to outnumber\\nAt tender eye-dawn of aurorean love\\nThe winged boy I knew\\nBut who wast thou, O happy, happy dove\\nHis Psyche true\\nIll\\nO latest- born and loveliest vision far\\nOf all Olympus faded hierarchy 1\\nFairer than Phoebe s sapphire-region d star,\\nOr Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky\\nFairer than these, though temple thou hast none,\\nNor altar heap d with flowxrs", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "2SO THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nNor virgin-choir to make delicious moan\\nUpon the midnight hours\\nNo voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet\\nFrom chain-swung censer teeming\\nNo shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat\\nOf pale-mouth d prophet dreaming.\\nbrightest though too late for antique vows,\\nToo, too late for the fond believing lyre.\\nWhen holy were the haunted forest boughs,\\nHoly the air, the water, and the fire\\nYet even in these days so far retired\\nFrom happy pieties, thy lucent fans.\\nFluttering among the faint Olympians,\\n1 see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired.\\nSo let me be thy choir, and make a moan\\nUpon the midnight hours\\nThy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet\\nFrom swinged censer teeming\\nThy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat\\nOf pale-mouth d prophet dreaming.\\nYes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane\\nIn some untrodden region of my mind.\\nWhere branched thoughts, new- grown with pleasant\\npain.\\nInstead of pines shall murmur in the wind\\nFar, far around shall those dark-cluster d trees\\nFledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep\\nAnd there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and\\nbees,\\nThe moss-lain Dryads shall be lulled to sleep,\\nAnd in the midst of this wide quietness\\nA rosy sanctuary will I dress\\nWith the wreath d trellis of a working brain,\\nWith buds, and bells, and stars without a name.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE 251\\nWith all the gardener Fancy e er could feign,\\nWho breeding flowers, will never breed the same:\\nAnd there shall be for thee all soft delight\\nThat shadowy thought can win,\\nA bright torch, and a casement ope at night,\\nTo let the warm Love in\\nSONNET\\nIf by dull rhymes our English must be chain d,\\nAnd, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet\\nFetter d, in spite of pained loveliness\\nLet us find out, if we must be constrain d,\\nSandals more interwoven and complete\\nTo fit the naked foot of poesy\\nLet us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress\\nOf every chord, and see what may be gain d\\nBy ear industrious, and attention meet\\nMisers of sound and syllable, no less\\nThan Midas of his coinage, let us be\\nJealous of dead leaves in the bay- wreath crown\\nSo, if we may not let the Muse be free.\\nShe will be bound with garlands of her own.\\nODE TO A NIGHTINGALE\\nI\\nMy heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains\\nMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,\\nOr emptied some dull opiate to the drains\\nOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk\\nT is not through envy of thy happy lot,\\nBut being too happy in thine happiness,\\nThat thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,\\nIn some melodious plot\\nOf beechen green, and shadows numberless,\\nSingest of summer in full-throated ease.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "252 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nO for a draught of vintage that hath been\\nCool d a long age in the deep-delved earth,\\nTasting of Flora and the country-green,\\nDance, and Provengal song, and sunburnt mirth 1\\nO for a beaker full of the warm South,\\nFull of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,\\nWith beaded bubbles winking at the brim,\\nAnd purple-stained mouth\\nThat I might drink, and leave the world unseen,\\nAnd with thee fade away into the forest dim\\nFade far away, dissolve, and quite forget\\nWhat thou among the leaves hast never known.\\nThe weariness, the fever, and the fret\\nHere, where men sit and hear each other groan\\nWhere palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,\\nWhere youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and\\ndies;\\nWhere but to think is to be full of sorrow\\nAnd leaden-eyed despairs,\\nWhere Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,\\nOr new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.\\nAway away for I will fly to thee,\\nNot charioted by Bacchus and his pards,\\nBut on the viewless wings of Poesy,\\nThough the dull brain perplexes and retards\\nAlready with thee tender is the night,\\nAnd haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,\\nCluster d around by all her starry Fays\\nBut here there is no light.\\nSave what from heaven is with the breezes blown\\nThrough verdurous glooms and winding mossy\\nways.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE 253\\nV\\nI cannot see what flowers are at my feet,\\nNor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,\\nBut, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet\\nWherewith the seasonable month endows\\nThe grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild\\nWhite hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine\\nFast fading violets cover d up in leaves\\nAnd mid-May s eldest child,\\nThe coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,\\nThe murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.\\nVI\\nDarkling I listen and, for many a time\\nI have been half in love with easeful Death,\\nCall d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,\\nTo take into the air my quiet breath\\nNow more than ever seems it rich to die,\\nTo cease upon the midnight with no pain\\nWhile thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad\\nIn such an ecstacy\\nStill wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain\\nTo thy high requiem become a sod.\\nVII\\nThou wast not born for death, immortal Bird\\nNo hungry generations tread thee down\\nThe voice I hear this passing night was heard\\nIn ancient days by emperor and clown\\nPerhaps the self-same song that found a path\\nThrough the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for\\nhome,\\nShe stood in tears amid the alien corn\\nThe same that oft-times hath\\nCharm d magic casements, opening on the foam\\nOf perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "254 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nVIII\\nForlorn the very word is like a bell\\nTo toll me back from thee to my sole self\\nAdieu the fancy cannot cheat so well\\nAs she is famed to do, deceiving elf,\\nAdieu adieu thy plaintive anthem fades\\nPast the near meadows, over the still stream,\\nUp the hill-side and now t is buried deep\\nIn the next valley-glades\\nWas it a vision, or a waking dream\\nFled is that music do I wake or sleep\\nLAMIA\\nPART I\\nUpon a time, before the faery broods\\nDrove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,\\nBefore King Oberon s bright diadem,\\nSceptre, and mantle, clasp d with dewy gem,\\nFrighted away the Dryads and the Fauns\\nFrom rushes green, and brakes, and cowslipp d\\nlawns,\\nThe ever-smitten Hermes empty left\\nHis golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft\\nFrom high Olympus had he stolen light.\\nOn this side of Jove s clouds, to escape the sight 10\\nOf his great summer, and made retreat\\nInto a forest on the shores of Crete.\\nFor somewhere in that sacred island dwelt\\nA nymph, to whom all hoofed Satyrs knelt\\nAt whose white feet the languid Tritons poured\\nPearls, while on land they wither d and adored.\\nFast by the springs where she to bathe was wont,\\nAnd in those meads where sometimes she might\\nhaunt,\\nWere strewn rich gifts, unknown to any Muse,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 255\\nThough Fancy s casket were unlock d to choose. 20\\nAh, what a world of love was at her feet\\nSo Hermes thought, and a celestial heat\\nBurnt from his winged heels to either ear,\\nThat from a whiteness, as the lily clear,\\nBlush d into roses mid his golden hair,\\nFallen in jealous curls about his shoulders bare.\\nFrom vale to vale, from wood to wood, he flew,\\nBreathing upon the flowers his passion new.\\nAnd wound with many a river to its head.\\nTo find where this sweet nymph prepared her secret\\nbed 30\\nIn vain the sweet nymph might nowhere be found,\\nAnd so he rested, on the lonely ground,\\nPensive, and full of painful jealousies\\nOf the Wood^Gods, and even the very trees.\\nThere as he stood, he heard a mournful voice,\\nSuch as once heard, in gentle heart, destroys\\nAll pain but pity thus the lone voice spake\\nWhen from this wreathed tomb shall I awake\\nWhen move in a sweet body fit for life.\\nAnd love, and pleasure, and the ruddy strife 40\\nOf hearts and lips Ah, miserable me\\nThe God, dove-footed, glided silently\\nRound bush and tree, soft-brushing, in his speed,\\nThe taller grasses and full-flowering weed,\\nUntil he found a palpitating snake,\\nBright, and cirque-couchant in a dusky brake.\\nShe was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,\\nVermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue\\nStriped like a zebra, freckled like a pard,\\nEyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr d 50\\nAnd full of silver moons, that, as she breathed,\\nDissolved, or brighter shone, or interwreathed\\nTheir lustres with the gloomier tapestries\\nSo rainbow-sided, touch d with miseries.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "256 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nShe seem d, at once, some penanced lady elf,\\nSome demon s mistress, or the demon s self.\\nUpon her crest she wore a wannish fire\\nSprinkled with stars, like Ariadne s tiar\\nHer head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet\\nShe had a woman s mouth with all its pearls com-\\nplete 60\\nAnd for her eyes what could such eyes do there\\nBut weep, and weep, that they were born so\\nfair?\\nAs Proserpine still weeps for her Sicilian air.\\nHer throat was serpent, but the words she spake\\nCame, as through bubbling honey, for Love s sake,\\nAnd thus while Hermes on his pinions lay,\\nLike a stoop d falcon ere he takes his prey\\nFair Hermes crown d with feathers, fluttering\\nlight,\\nI had a splendid dream of thee last night\\nI saw thee sitting, on a throne of gold, 70\\nAmong the Gods, upon Olympus old,\\nThe only sad one for thou didst not hear\\nThe soft, lute-finger d Muses chanting clear.\\nNor even Apollo when he sang alone,\\nDeaf to his throbbing throat s long, long melodious\\nmoan.\\nI dreamt I saw thee, robed in purple flakes.\\nBreak amorous through the clouds, as morning\\nbreaks,\\nAnd, swiftly as a bright Phoebean dart.\\nStrike for the Cretan isle and here thou art\\nToo gentle Hermes, hast thou found the maid 80\\nWhereat the star of Lethe not delay d\\nHis rosy eloquence, and thus inquired\\nThou smooth-lipp d serpent, surely high-inspired I\\nThou beauteous wreath, with melancholy eyes.\\nPossess whatever bliss thou canst devise.\\nTelling me only where my nymph is fled,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 257\\nWhere she doth breathe Bright planet, thou\\nhast said,\\nReturn d the snake, but seal with oaths, fair God\\nI swear, said Hermes, by my serpent rod,\\nAnd by thine eyes, and by thy starry crown 90\\nLight flew his earnest words, among the blossoms\\nblown.\\nThen thus again the brilliance feminine\\nToo frail of heart for this lost nymph of thine,\\nFree as the air, invisibly, she strays\\nAbout these thornless wilds her pleasant days\\nShe tastes unseen unseen her nimble feet\\nLeave traces in the grass and flowers sweet\\nFrom weary tendrils, and bow d branches green,\\nShe plucks the fruit unseen, she bathes unseen\\nAnd by my power is her beauty veil d 100\\nTo keep it unaffronted, unassail d\\nBy the love- glances of unlovely eyes.\\nOf Satyrs, Fauns, and blear d Silenus sighs.\\nPale grew her immortality, for woe\\nOf all these lovers, and she grieved so\\nI took compassion on her, bade her steep\\nHer hair in wei rd syrops, that would keep\\nHer loveliness invisible, yet free\\nTo wander as she loves, in liberty.\\nThou shalt behold her, Hermes, thou alone, no\\nIf thou wilt, as thou swearest, grant my boon\\nThen, once again, the charmed God began\\nAn oath, and through the serpent s ears it ran\\nWarm, tremulous, devout, psalterian.\\nRavish d she lifted her Circean head,\\nBlush d a live damask, and swift-lisping said,\\nI was a woman, let me have once more\\nA woman s shape, and charming as before.\\nI love a youth of Corinth O the bliss!\\nGive me my woman s form, and place me where he\\nis. 120\\nStoop, Hermes, let me breathe upon thy brow,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "258 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nAnd thou shalt see thy sweet nymph even now/\\nThe God on half-shut feathers sank serene,\\nShe breathed upon his eyes, and swift was seen\\nOf both the guarded nymph near-smiling on the\\ngreen.\\nIt was no dream or say a dream it was,\\nReal are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass\\nTheir pleasures in a long immortal dream.\\nOne warm, flush d moment, hovering, it might seem\\nDash d by the wood-nymph s beauty, so he burn d\\nThen, lighting on the pnntless verdure, turn d 131\\nTo the swoon d serpent, and with languid arm,\\nDelicate, put to proof the lithe Caducean charm.\\nSo done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent\\nFull of adoring tears and blandishment.\\nAnd towards her stept she, like a moon in wane,\\nFaded before him, cower d, nor could restrain\\nHer fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower\\nThat faints into itself at evening hour\\nBut the God fostering her chilled hand, 140\\nShe felt the warmth, her eyelids open d bland,\\nAnd, like new flowers at morning song of bees,\\nBloom d, and gave up her honey to the lees.\\nInto the green -recessed woods they flew\\nNor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.\\nLeft to herself, the serpent now began\\nTo change her elfin blood in madness ran,\\nHer mouth foam d, and the grass, therewith be-\\nsprent,\\nWither d at dew so sweet and virulent\\nHer eyes in torture fix d, and anguish drear, 150\\nHot, glazed, and wide, with lid-lashes all sear,\\nFlash d phosphor and sharp sparks, without\\ncooling tear.\\nThe colours all inflamed throughout her train,\\nShe writhed about, convulsed with scarlet pain\\nA deep volcanian yellow took the place\\n1", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0276.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 259\\nOf all her milder-mooned body s grace\\nAnd, as the lava ravishes the mead,\\nSpoilt all her silver mail, and golden brede\\nMade gloom of all her frecklings, streaks and bars,\\nEclipsed her crescents, and lick d up her stars 160\\nSo that, in moments few, she was undrest\\nOf all her sapphires, greens, and amethyst.\\nAnd rubious-argent of all these bereft,\\nNothing but pain and ugliness were left.\\nStill shone her crown that vanish d, also she\\nMelted and disappear d as suddenly\\nAnd in the air, her new voice luting soft.\\nCried, Lycius gentle Lycius! Borne aloft\\nWith the bright mists about the mountains hoar\\nThese words dissolved Crete s forests heard no\\nWhither fled Lamia, now a lady bright,\\nA full-born beauty new and exquisite\\nShe fled into that valley they pass o er\\nWho go to Corinth from Cenchreas shore\\nAnd rested at the foot of those wild hills,\\nThe rugged founts of the Persean rills,\\nAnd of that other ridge whose barren back\\nStretches, with all its mist and cloudy rack.\\nSouth-westward to Cleone. There she stood\\nAbout a young bird s flutter from a wood, 180\\nFair, on a sloping green of mossy tread.\\nBy a clear pool, wherein she passioned\\nTo see herself escaped from so sore ills,\\nWhile her robes flaunted with the daffodils.\\nAh, happy Lycius for she was a maid\\nMore beautiful than ever twisted braid,\\nOr sigh d, or blush d, or on spring-flowered lea\\nSpread a green kirtle to the minstrelsy\\nA virgin purest lipp d, yet in the lore\\nOf love deep learned to the red heart s core 190", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0277.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "26o THE POEMS OP 1818-1819\\nNot one hour old, yet of sciential brain\\nTo unperplex bliss from its neighbour pain\\nDefine their pettish limits, and estrange\\nTheir points of contact, and swift counterchange\\nIntrigue with the specious chaos, and dispart\\nIts most ambiguous atoms with sure art\\nAs though in Cupid s college she had spent\\nSweet days a lovely graduate, still unshent,\\nAnd kept his rosy terms in idle languishment.\\nWhy this fair creature chose so fairily 21\\nBy the wayside to linger, we shall see\\nBut first t is fit to tell how she could muse\\nAnd dream, when in the serpent prison-house.\\nOf all she list, strange or magnificent\\nHow, ever, where she will d, her spirit went\\nWhether to faint Elysium, or where\\nDown through tress-lifting waves the Nereids fair\\nWind into Thetis bower by many a pearly stair\\nOr where God Bacchus drains his cups divine.\\nStretch d out, at ease, beneath a glutinous pine 2\\nOr where in Pluto s gardens palatine\\nMulciber s columns gleam in far piazzian line.\\nAnd sometimes into cities she would send\\nHer dream, with feast and rioting to blend\\nAnd once, while among mortals dreaming thus,\\nShe saw the young Corinthian Lycius\\nCharioting foremost in the envious race.\\nLike a young Jove with calm uneager face,\\nAnd fell into a swooning love of him.\\nNow on the moth- time of that evening dim 2\\nHe would return that way, as well she knew.\\nTo Corinth from the shore for freshly blew\\nThe eastern soft wind, and his galley now\\nGrated the quay-stones with her brazen prow\\nIn port Cenchreas, from Egina isle\\nFresh anchor d whither he had been awhile\\nTo sacrifice to Jove, whose temple there", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0278.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 261\\nWaits with high marble doors for blood and incense\\nrare.\\nJove heard his vows, and better d his desire\\nFor by some freakful chance he made retire 230\\nFrom his companions, and set forth to walk,\\nPerhaps grown wearied of their Corinth talk\\nOver the solitary hills he fared,\\nThoughtless at first, but ere eve s star appear d\\nHis phantasy was lost, where reason fades.\\nIn the calm d twilight of Platonic shades.\\nLamia beheld him coming, near, more near\\nClose to her passing, in indifference drear,\\nHis silent sandals swept the mossy green\\nSo neighbour d to him, and yet so unseen 240\\nShe stood he pass d, shut up in mysteries.\\nHis mind wrapp d like his mantle, while her eyes\\nFollow d his steps, and her neck regal white\\nTurn d syllabling thus, Ah, Lycius bright\\nAnd will you leave me on the hills alone\\nLycius, look back and be some pity shown.\\nHe did not with cold wonder fearingly.\\nBut Orpheus-like at an Eurydice\\nFor so delicious were the words she sung.\\nIt seem d he had loved them a whole summer long\\nAnd soon his eyes had drunk her beauty up, 251\\nLeaving no drop in the bewildering cup.\\nAnd still the cup was full, while he, afraid\\nLest she should vanish ere his lips had paid\\nDue adoration, thus began to adore\\nHer soft look growing coy, she saw his chain so\\nsure\\nLeave thee alone Look back Ah, Goddess,\\nsee\\nWhether my eyes can ever turn from thee\\nFor pity do not this sad heart belie\\nEven as thou vanishest so I shall die. 260\\nStay though a Naiad of the rivers, stay\\nTo thy far wishes will thy streams obey", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0279.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "262 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nStay though the greenest woods be thy domain,\\nAlone they can drink up the morning rain\\nThough a descended Pleiad, will not one\\nOf thine harmonious sisters keep in tune\\nThy spheres, and as thy silver proxy shine\\nSo sweetly to these ravish d ears of mine\\nCame thy sweet greeting, that if thou shouldst\\nfade,\\nThy memory will waste me to a shade 270\\nFor pity do not melt If I should stay,\\nSaid Lamia, here, upon this floor of clay,\\nAnd pain my steps upon these flowers too rough.\\nWhat canst thou say or do of charm enough\\nTo dull the nice remembrance of my home\\nThou canst not ask me with thee here to roam\\nOver these hills and vales, where no joy is,\\nEmpty of immortality and bliss\\nThou art a scholar, Lycius, and must know\\nThat finer spirits cannot breathe below 280\\nIn human climes, and live Alas poor youth,\\nWhat taste of purer air hast thou to soothe\\nMy essence What serener palaces,\\nWhere I may all my many senses please,\\nAnd by mysterious sleights a hundred thirsts ap-\\npease\\nIt cannot be Adieu So said, she rose\\nTiptoe with white arms spread. He, sick to lose\\nThe amorous promise of her lone complain,\\nSwoon d murmuring of love, and pale with pain.\\nThe cruel lady, without any show 290\\nOf sorrow for her tender favourite s woe,\\nBut rather, if her eyes could brighter be.\\nWith brighter eyes and slow amenity.\\nPut her new lips to his, and gave afresh\\nThe life she had so tangled in her mesh\\nAnd as he from one trance was weakening\\nInto another, she began to sing,\\nHappy in beauty, life, and love, and every thing,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0280.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 263\\nA song of love, too sweet for earthly lyres,\\nWhile, like held breath, the stars drew in their pant-\\ning fires. 300\\nAnd then she whisper d in such trembling tone.\\nAs those who, safe together met alone\\nFor the first time through many anguish d days,\\nUse other speech than looks; bidding him raise\\nHis drooping head, and clear his soul of doubt,\\nFor that she was a woman, and without\\nAny more subtle fluid in her veins\\nThan throbbing blood, and that the self -same pains\\nInhabited her frail-strung heart as his.\\nAnd next she wonder d how his eyes could miss 310\\nHer face so long in Corinth, where, she said,\\nShe dwelt but half retired, and there had led\\nDays happy as the gold coin could invent\\nWithout the aid of love yet in content\\nTill she saw him, as once she pass d him by,\\nWhere gainst a column he leant thoughtfully\\nAt Venus temple porch, mid baskets heap d\\nOf amorous herbs and flowers, aewly reap d\\nLate on that eve, as t was the night before\\nThe Adonian feast whereof she saw no more, 320\\nBut wept alone those days, for why should she\\nadore\\nLycius from death awoke into amaze,\\nTo see her still, and singing so sweet lays\\nThen from amaze into delight he fell\\nTo hear her whisper woman s lore so well\\nAnd every word she spake enticed him on\\nTo unperplex d delight and pleasure known.\\nLet the mad poets say whate er they please\\nOf the sweets of Fairies, Peris, Goddesses,\\nThere is not such a treat among them all, 330\\nHaunters of cavern, lake, and waterfall,\\nAs a real woman, lineal indeed\\nFrom Pyrrha s pebbles or old Adam s seed.\\nThus gentle Lamia judged, and judged aright,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0281.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "264 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nThat Lycius could not love in half a fright,\\nSo threw the goddess off, and won his heart\\nMore pleasantly by playing woman s part,\\nWith no more awe than what her beauty gave,\\nThat, while it smote, still guaranteed to save.\\nLycius to all made eloquent reply, 340\\nMarrying to every word a twin-born sigh\\nAnd last, pointing to Corinth, ask d her sweet,\\nIf t was too far that night for her soft feet.\\nThe way was short, for Lamia s eagerness\\nMade, by a spell, the triple league decrease\\nTo a few paces not at all surmised\\nBy blinded Lycius, so in her comprised\\nThey pass d the city gates, he knew not how.\\nSo noiseless, and he never thought to know.\\nAs men talk in a dream, so Corinth all, 350\\nThroughout her palaces imperial.\\nAnd all her populous streets and temples lewd,\\nMutter d, like tempest in the distance brew d.\\nTo the wide-spreaded night above her towers.\\nMen, women, rich and poor, in the cool hours.\\nShuffled their sandals o er the pavement white,\\nCompanion d or alone while many a light\\nFlared, here and there, from wealthy festivals.\\nAnd threw their moving shadows on the walls,\\nOr found them cluster d in the corniced shade 360\\nOf some arch d temple door, or dusky colonnade.\\nMuffling his face, of greeting friends in fear.\\nHer fingers he press d hard, as one came near\\nWith curl d gray beard, sharp eyes, and smooth bald\\ncrown,\\nSlow-stepp d, and robed in philosophic gown:\\nLycius shrank closer, as they met and past.\\nInto his mantle, adding wings to haste.\\nWhile hurried Lamia trembled Ah, said he,\\nWhy do you shudder, love, so ruefully", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0282.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 265\\nWhy does your tender palm dissolve in dew 370\\nI m wearied, said fair Lamia tell me who\\nIs that old man I cannot bring to mind\\nHis features: Lycius wherefore did you blind\\nYourself from his quick eyes Lycius replied,\\nT is Apollonius sage, my trusty guide\\nAnd good instructor but to-night he seems\\nThe ghost of folly haunting my sweet dreams.\\nWhile yet he spake they had arrived before\\nA pillar d porch, with lofty portal door.\\nWhere hung a silver lamp, whose phosphor glow 380\\nReflected in the slabbed steps below,\\nMild as a star in water for so new\\nAnd so unsullied was the marble hue,\\nSo through the crystal polish, liquid fine,\\nRan the dark veins, that none but feet divine\\nCould e er have touch d there. Sounds ^olian\\nBreathed from the hinges, as the ample span\\nOf the wide doors disclosed a place unknown\\nSome time to any, but those two alone.\\nAnd a few Persian mutes, who that same year 390\\nWere seen about the markets none knew where\\nThey could inhabit the most curious\\nWere foil d, who watch d to trace them to their\\nhouse\\nAnd but the flitter- winged verse must tell,\\nFor truth s sake, what woe afterwards befell,\\nT would humour many a heart to leave them thus.\\nShut from the busy world of more incredulous.\\nPART II\\nLove in a hut, with water and a crust,\\nIs Love, forgive us cinders, ashes, dust\\nLove in a palace is perhaps at last\\nMore grievous torment than a hermit s fast", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0283.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "266 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nThat is a doubtful tale from faery land,\\nHard for the non-elect to understand.\\nHad Lycius lived to hand his story down,\\nHe might have given the moral a fresh frown.\\nOr clench d it quite but too short was their bliss\\nTo breed distrust and hate, that make the soft voice\\nhiss. 10\\nBesides, there, nightly, with terrific glare.\\nLove, jealous grown of so complete a pair\\nHover d and buzz d his wings, with fearful roar,\\nAbove the lintel of their chamber door,\\nAnd down the passage cast a glow upon the floor.\\nFor all this came a ruin side by side\\nThey were enthroned, in the even tide,\\nUpon a couch, near to a curtaining\\nWhose airy texture, from a golden string,\\nFloated into the room, and let appear 20\\nUnveil d the summer heaven, blue and clear,\\nBetwixt two marble shafts there they reposed.\\nWhere use had made it sweet, with eyelids closed.\\nSaving a tithe which love still open kept.\\nThat they might see each other while they almost\\nslept\\nWhen from the slope side of a suburb hill.\\nDeafening the swallow s twitter, came a thrill\\nOf trumpets Lycius started the sounds fled.\\nBut left a thought, a buzzing in his head.\\nFor the first time, since first he harbour d in 30\\nThat purple-lined palace of sweet sin,\\nHis spirit pass d beyond its golden bourn\\nInto the noisy world almost forsworn.\\nThe lady, ever watchful, penetrant,\\nSaw this with pain, so arguing a want\\nOf something more, more than her empery\\nOf joys and she began to moan and sigh\\nBecause he mused beyond her, knowing well\\nThat but a moment s thought is passion s passing bell.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0284.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 267\\nWhy do you sigh, fair creature whisper d he 40\\nWhy do you think return d she tenderly\\nYou have deserted me where am I now\\nNot in your heart while care weighs on your\\nbrow\\nNo, no, you have dismiss d me and I go\\nFrom your breast houseless aye, it must be so.\\nHe answer d, bending to her open eyes,\\nWhere he was mirror d small in paradise,\\nMy silver planet, both of eve and morn\\nWhy will you plead yourself so sad forlorn,\\nWhile I am striving how to fill my heart 50\\nWith deeper crimson, and a double smart\\nHow to entangle, trammel up and snare\\nYour soul in mine, and labyrinth you there,\\nLike the hid scent in an unbudded rose\\nAye, a sweet kiss you see your mighty woes.\\nMy thoughts shall I unveil them Listen then\\nWhat mortal hath a prize, that other men\\nMay be confounded and abash d withal,\\nBut lets it sometimes pace abroad majestical,\\nAnd triumph, as in thee I should rejoice 60\\nAmid the hoarse alarm of Corinth s voice.\\nLet my foes choke, and my friends shout afar,\\nWhile through the thronged streets your bridal car\\nWheels round its dazzling spokes. The lady s\\ncheek\\nTrembled she nothing said, but, pale and meek.\\nArose and knelt before him, wept a rain\\nOf sorrows at his words at last with pain\\nBeseeching him, the while his hand she wrung,\\nTo change his purpose. He thereat was stung,\\nPerverse, with stronger fancy to reclaim 70\\nHer wild and timid nature to his aim\\nBesides, for all his love, in self despite.\\nAgainst his better self, he took delight\\nLuxurious in her sorrows, soft and new.\\nHis passion, cruel grown, took on a hue", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0285.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "268 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nFierce and sanguineous as t was possible\\nIn one whose brow had no dark veins to swell.\\nFine was the mitigated fury, like\\nApollo s presence when in act to strike\\nThe serpent Ha the serpent certes, she 80\\nWas none. She burnt, she loved the tyranny,\\nAnd, all subdued, consented to the hour\\nWhen to the bridal he should lead his paramour.\\nWhispering in midnight silence, said the youth,\\nSure some sweet name thou hast, though, by my\\ntruth,\\nI have not ask d it, ever thinking thee\\nNot mortal, but of heavenly progeny,\\nAs still I do. Hast any mortal name,\\nFit appellation for this dazzling frame\\nOr friends or kinsfolk on the citied earth, 90\\nTo share our marriage feast and nuptial mirth\\nI have no friends, said Lamia, no, not one\\nMy presence in wide Corinth hardly known\\nMy parents bones are in their dusty urns\\nSepulchred, where no kindled incense burns,\\nSeeing all their luckless race are dead, save me.\\nAnd I neglect the holy rite for thee.\\nEven as you list invite your many guests\\nBut if, as now it seems, your vision rests\\nWith any pleasure on me, do not bid 100\\nOld Apollonius from him keep me hid.\\nLycius, perplex d at words so blind and blank.\\nMade close inquiry from whose touch she shrank,\\nFeigning a sleep and he to the dull shade\\nOf deep sleep in a moment was betray d.\\nIt was the custom then to bring away\\nThe bride from home at blushing shut of day,\\nVeil d, in a chariot, heralded along\\nBy strewn flowers, torches, and a marriage song,\\nWith other pageants but this fair unknown no\\nHad not a friend. So being left alone.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0286.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 269\\n(Lycius was gone to summon all his kin,)\\nAnd knowing snrely she could never win\\nHis foolish heart from its mad pompousness.\\nShe set herself, high-thoughted, how to dress\\nThe misery in fit magnificence.\\nShe did so, but t is doubtful how and whence\\nCame, and who were her subtle servitors.\\nAbout the halls, and to and from the doors,\\nThere was a noise of wings, till in short space 120\\nThe glowing banquet-room shone with wide-arched\\ngrace.\\nA haunting music, sole perhaps and lone\\nSupportress of the faery-roof, made moan\\nThroughout, as fearful the whole charm might\\nfade.\\nFresh carved cedar, mimicking a glade\\nOf palm and plantain, met from either side,\\nHigh in the midst, in honour of the bride\\nTwo palms and then two plantains, and so on.\\nFrom either side their stems branch d one to one\\nAll down the aisled place and beneath all 130\\nThere ran a stream of lamps straight on from wall to\\nwall.\\nSo canopied, lay an untasted feast\\nTeeming with odours. Lamia, regal drest,\\nSilently paced about, and as she went,\\nIn pale contented sort of discontent,\\nMission d her viewless servants to enrich\\nThe fretted splendour of each nook and niche.\\nBetween the tree-stems, marbled plain at first,\\nCame jasper panels then, anon, there burst\\nForth creeping imagery of slighter trees, 140\\nAnd with the larger wove in small intricacies.\\nApproving all, she faded at self-will,\\nAnd shut the chamber up, close, hush d and still.\\nComplete and ready for the revels rude,\\nWhen dreadful guests would come to spoil her soli-\\ntude.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0287.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "270 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nThe day appear d, and all the gossip rout.\\nO senseless Lycius Madman wherefore flout\\nThe silent-blessing fate, warm cloister d hours,\\nAnd show to common eyes these secret bowers\\nThe herd approach d each guest, with busy brain,\\nArriving at the portal, gazed amain, 151\\nAnd enter d marvelling for they knew the street,\\nRemember d it from childhood all complete\\nWithout a gap, yet ne er before had seen\\nThat royal porch, that high-built fair demesne\\nSo in they hurried all, mazed, curious and keen\\nSave one, who look d thereon with eye severe,\\nAnd with calm-planted steps walk d in austere\\nT was Apollonius something too he laugh d.\\nAs though some knotty problem, that had daft 160\\nHis patient thought, had now begun to thaw,\\nAnd solve and melt t was just as he foresaw.\\nHe met within the murmurous vestibule\\nHis young disciple. T is no common rule,\\nLycius, said he, for uninvited guest\\nTo force himself upon you, and infest\\nWith an unbiddden presence the bright throng\\nOf younger friends yet must I do this wrong,\\nAnd you forgive me. Lycius blush d, and led\\nThe old man through the inner doors broadspread\\nWith reconciling words and courteous mien 171\\nTurning into sweet milk the sophist s spleen.\\nOf wealthy lustre was the banquet-room,\\nFill d with pervading brilliance and perfume\\nBefore each lucid panel fuming stood\\nA censer fed with myrrh and spiced wood,\\nEach by a sacred tripod held aloft,\\nWhose slender feet wide-swerved upon the soft\\nWool-woofed carpets fifty wreaths of smoke\\nFrom fifty censers their light voyage took 180\\nTo the high roof, still mimick d as they rose", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0288.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 271\\nAlong the mirror d walls by twin- clouds odorous.\\nTwelve sphered tables, by silk seats inspher d,\\nHigh as the level of a man s breast rear d\\nOn libbard s paws, upheld the heavy gold\\nOf cups and goblets, and the store thrice told\\nOf Ceres horn, and, in huge vessels, wine\\nCame from the gloomy tun with merry shine.\\nThus loaded with a feast the tables stood.\\nEach shrihing in the midst the image of a God. 190\\nWhen in an antechamber every guest\\nHad felt the cold full sponge to pleasure press d,\\nBy ministering slaves, upon his hands and feet,\\nAnd fragrant oils with ceremony meet\\nPour d on his hair, they all moved to the feast\\nIn white robes, and themselves in order placed\\nAround the silken couches, wondering\\nWhence all this mighty cost and blaze of wealth\\ncould spring.\\nSoft went the music the soft air along,\\nWhile fluent Greek a vowel d under-song 200\\nKept up among the guests, discoursing low\\nAt first, for scarcely was the wine at flow\\nBut when the happy vintage touch d their brains,\\nLouder they talk, and louder come the strains\\nOf powerful instruments the gorgeous dyes,\\nThe space, the splendour of the draperies.\\nThe roof of awful richness, nectarous cheer,\\nBeautiful slaves, and Lamia s self, appear,\\nNow, when the wine has done its rosy deed.\\nAnd every soul from human trammels freed, 210\\nNo more so strange for merry wine, sweet wine,\\nWill make Elysian shades not too fair, too divine.\\nSoon was God Bacchus at meridian height\\nFlush d were their cheeks, and bright eyes double\\nbright\\nGarlands of every green, and every scent", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0289.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "272 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nFrom vales deflower d, or forest-trees branch-rent.\\nIn baskets of bright osier d gold were brought\\nHigh as the handles heap d, to suit the thought\\nOf every guest that each, as he did please,\\nMight fancy-fit his brows, silk-pillow d at his ease.\\nWhat wreath for Lamia What for Lycius 221\\nWhat for the sage, old Apollonius\\nUpon her aching forehead be there hung\\nThe leaves of willow and of adder s tongue\\nAnd for the youth, quick, let us strip for him\\nThe thyrsus, that his watching eyes may swim\\nInto forgetfulness and, for the sage.\\nLet spear-grass and the spiteful thistle wage\\nWar on his temples. Do not all charms fly\\nAt the mere touch of cold philosophy 230\\nThere was an awful rainbow once in heaven\\nWe know her woof, her texture she is given\\nIn the dull catalogue of common things.\\nPhilosophy will clip an Angel s wings,\\nConquer all mysteries by rule and line.\\nEmpty the haunted air, and gnomed mine\\nUnweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made\\nThe tender- person d Lamia melt into a shade.\\nBy her glad Lycius sitting, in chief place,\\nScarce saw in all the room another face, 240\\nTill, checking his love trance, a cup he took\\nFull brimm d, and opposite sent forth a look\\nCross the broad table, to beseech a glance\\nFrom his old teacher s wrinkled countenance,\\nAnd pledge him. The bald-head philosopher\\nHad fix d his eye, without a twinkle or stir,\\nFull on the alarmed beauty of the bride.\\nBrow-beating her fair form, and troubling her sweet\\npride.\\nLycius then press d her hand, with devout touch.\\nAs pale it lay upon the rosy couch 25\u00c2\u00b0", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0290.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "LAMIA 273\\nT was icy, and the cold ran through his veins\\nThen sudden it grew hot, and all the pains\\nOf an unnatural heat shot to his heart.\\nLamia, what means this Wherefore dost thou\\nstart\\nKnow st thou that man? Poor Lamia answer d\\nnot.\\nHe gazed into her eyes, and not a jot\\nOwn d they the lovelorn piteous appeal\\nMore, more he gazed his human senses reel:\\nSome hungry spell that loveliness absorbs\\nThere was no recognition in those orbs: 260\\nLamia he cried and no soft- toned reply.\\nThe many heard, and the loud revelry\\nGrew hush the stately music no more breathes\\nThe myrtle sicken d in a thousand wreaths.\\nBy faint degrees, voice, lute, and pleasure ceased\\nA deadly silence step by step increased.\\nUntil it seem d a horrid presence there.\\nAnd not a man but felt the terror in his hair.\\nLamia he shriek d and nothing but the shriek\\nWith its sad echo did the silence break. 270\\nBegone, foul dream he cried, gazing again\\nIn the bride s face, where now no azure vein\\nWander d on fair-spaced temples no soft bloom\\nMisted the cheek no passion to illume\\nThe deep-recessed vision all was blight\\nLamia, no longer fair, there sat a deadly white.\\nShut, shut those juggling eyes, thou ruthless man!\\nTurn them aside, wretch! or the righteous ban\\nOf all the Gods, whose dreadful images\\nHere represent their shadowy presences, 280\\nMay pierce them on the sudden with the thorn\\nOf painful blindness; leaving thee forlorn,\\nIn trembling dotage to the feeblest fright\\nOf conscience, for their long-offended might,\\nFor all thine impious proud-heart sophistries^\\nUnlawful magic, and enticing lies.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0291.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "274 THE POEMS OF 1818-1819\\nCorinthians look upon that gray-beard wretch!\\nMark how, possess d, his lashless eyelids stretch\\nAround his demon eyes Corinthians, see\\nMy sweet bride withers at their potency. 290\\nFool said the sophist, in an under-tone\\nGruff with contempt which a death-nighing moan\\nFrom Lycius answer d, as heart-struck and lost.\\nHe sank supine beside the aching ghost.\\nFool Fool repeated he, while his eyes still\\nRelented not, nor moved from every ill\\nOf life have I preserved thee to this day,\\nAnd shall I see thee made a serpent s prey\\nThen Lamia breathed death breath the sophist s\\neye,\\nLike a sharp spear, went through her utterly, 300\\nKeen, cruel, perceant, stinging she, as well\\nAs her weak hand could any meaning tell,\\nMotion d him to be silent vainly so.\\nHe look d and look d again a level No\\nA serpent echoed he no sooner said.\\nThan with a frightful scream she vanished\\nAnd Lycius arms were empty of delight.\\nAs were his limbs of life, from that same night.\\nOn the high couch he lay! his friends came\\nround\\nSupported him no pulse or breath they found, 310\\nAnd, in its marriage robe, the heavy body wound.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0292.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 275\\nDRAMAS\\nOTHO THE GREAT\\nA TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS\\nDRAMATIS PERSONiE\\nOtho the Great, Emperor of Germany.\\nLuDOLPH, Ms Son.\\nConrad, DuJce of Franconia.\\nAlbert, a Knight, favoured by Otho.\\nSiGiFRED, an Officer, friend of Ludolph.\\nTheodore,\\nGONFRED, f\\nEthelbert, an Abbot.\\nGersa, Prince of Hungary.\\nAn Hungarian Captain.\\nPhysician.\\nPage.\\nNobles, Knights, Attendants, and Soldiers.\\nErminia, Niece of Otho.\\nAuranthe, Conrad^s Sister.\\nLadies and Attendants.\\nScene. The Castle ofFriedburg, its vicinity, and the Hun-\\ngarian Camp.\\nTime. One Day.\\nACT I\\nScene I. An Apartment in the Castle\\nEnter Conrad\\nConrad. So, I am safe emerged from these broils!\\nAmid the wreck of thousands I am whole\\nFor every crime I have a laurel-wreath,\\nFor every lie a lordship. Nor yet has\\nMy ship of fortune furl d her silken sails,\\nLet her glide on This danger d neck is saved,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0293.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "276 DRAMAS act i\\nBy dexterous policy, from the rebel s axe\\nAnd of my ducal palace not one stone\\nIs bruised by the Hungarian petards.\\nToil hard, ye slaves, and from the miser-earth lo\\nBring forth once more my bullion, treasured deep,\\nWith all my jewel d salvers, silver and gold,\\nAnd precious goblets that make rich the wine.\\nBut why do I stand babbling to myself\\nWhere is Auranthe I have news for her\\nShall\\nEnter Auranthe\\nAuranthe. Conrad what tidings Good, if I\\nmay guess\\nFrom your alert eyes and high-lifted brows.\\nWhat tidings of the battle? Albert? Ludolph\\nOtho?\\nConrad. You guess aright. And, sister, slurring\\no er\\nOur by-gone quarrels, I confess my heart 20\\nIs beating with a child s anxiety.\\nTo make our golden fortune known to you.\\nAuranthe. So serious\\nConrad. Yes, so serious, that before\\nI utter even the shadow of a hint\\nConcerning what will make that sin- worn cheek\\nBlush joyous blood through every lineament,\\nYou must make here a solemn vow to me.\\nAuranthe. I pr ythee, Conrad, do not overact\\nThe hypocrite. What vow would you impose\\nConrad. Trust me for once. That you may be\\nassured 30\\nT is not confiding to a broken reed,\\nA poor court-bankrupt, outwitted and lost,\\nRevolve these facts in your acutest mood.\\nIn such a mood as now you listen to me\\nA few days since, I was an open rebel,\\nAgainst the Emperor, had suborn d his son,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0294.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 277\\nDrawn off his nobles to revolt, and shown\\nContented fools causes for discontent,\\nFresh hatched in my ambition s eagle-nest\\nSo thrived I as a rebel, and, behold 40\\nNow I am Otho s favourite, his dear friend,\\nHis right hand, his brave Conrad.\\nAuranthe. I confess\\nYou have intrigued with these unsteady times\\nTo admiration but to be a favourite\\nConrad. I saw my moment. The Hungarians,\\nCollected silently in holes and corners,\\nAppear d, a sudden host, in the open day.\\nI should have perish d in our empire s wreck,\\nBut, calling interest loyalty, swore faith\\nTo most believing Otho and so help d 50\\nHis blood-stain d ensigns to the victory\\nIn yesterday s hard fight, that it has turn d\\nThe edge of his sharp wrath to eager kindness.\\nAuranthe. So far yourself. But what is this to\\nme\\nMore than that I am glad I gratulate you.\\nConrad. Yes, sister, but it does regard you greatly,\\nNearly, momentously, aye, painfully\\nMake me this vow\\nAuranthe. Concerning whom or what\\nConrad. Albert\\nAuranthe. I would inquire somewhat of him\\nYou had a letter from me touching him 60\\nNo treason gainst his head in deed or word\\nSurely you spared him at my earnest prayer\\nGive me the letter it should not exist\\nConrad. At one pernicious charge of the enemy,\\nI, for a moment-whiles, was prisoner ta en\\nAnd rifled, stuff the horses hoofs have minced\\nit!\\nAuranthe. He is alive\\nConrad. He is but here make oath\\nTo alienate him from your scheming brain,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0295.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "278 DRAMAS act i\\nDivorce him from your solitary thoughts,\\nAnd cloud him in such utter banishment, 70\\nThat when his person meets again your eye,\\nYour vision shall quite lose its memory,\\nAnd wander past him as through vacancy.\\nAuranthe. I 11 not be perj ured.\\nConrad. No, nor great, nor mighty\\nYou would not wear a crown, or rule a kingdom.\\nTo you it is indifferent.\\nAuranthe. What means this\\nConrad. You 11 not be perjured Go to Albert\\nthen.\\nThat camp-mushroom dishonour of our house.\\nGo, page his dusty heels upon a march.\\nFurbish his jingling baldric while he sleeps, 80\\nAnd share his mouldy ration in a siege.\\nYet stay, perhaps a charm may call you back.\\nAnd make the widening circlets of your eyes\\nSparkle with healthy fevers. The Emperor\\nHath given consent that you should marry Lu-\\ndolph\\nAuranthe. Can it be, brother For a golden\\ncrown\\nWith a queen s awful lips I doubly thank you\\nThis is to wake in Paradise Farewell\\nThou clod of yesterday t was not myself\\nNot till this moment did I ever feel 90\\nMy spirit s faculties I 11 flatter you\\nFor this, and be you ever proud of it\\nThou, Jove-like, struck dst thy forehead.\\nAnd from the teeming marrow of thy brain\\nI spring complete Minerva but the prince\\nHis highness Ludolph where is he\\nConrad: I know not\\nWhen, lackying my counsel at a beck.\\nThe rebel lords, on bended knees, received\\nThe Emperor s pardon, Ludolph kept aloof,\\nSole, in a stiff, fool-hardy, sulky pride 100", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0296.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 279\\nYet, for all this, I never saw a father\\nIn such a sickly longing for his son.\\nWe shall soon see him, for the Emperor\\nHe will be here this morning.\\nAuranthe. That I heard\\nAmong the midnight rumours from the camp.\\nConrad. You give up Albert to me\\nAuranthe. Harm him not\\nE en for his highness Ludolph s sceptry hand,\\nI would not Albert suffer any wrong.\\nConrad. Have I not laboured, plotted\\nAuranthe. See you spare him\\nNor be pathetic, my kind benefactor no\\nOn all the many bounties of your hand,\\nT was for yourself you laboured not for me\\nDo you not count, when I am queen, to take\\nAdvantage of your chance discoveries\\nOf my poor secrets, and so hold a rod\\nOver my life\\nConrad. Let not this slave this villain\\nBe cause of feud between us. See he comes\\nLook, woman, look, your Albert is quite safe\\nIn haste it seems. Now shall I be in the way,\\nAnd wish d with silent curses in my grave, 120\\nOr side by side with whelmed mariners.\\nEnter Albert.\\nAlbert. Fair on your graces fall this early mor-\\nrow!\\nSo it is like to do without my prayers.\\nFor your right noble names, like favourite tunes.\\nHave fallen full frequent from our Emperoi- s lips.\\nHigh commented with smiles.\\nAuranthe. Noble Albert!\\nConrad {aside). Noble\\nAuranthe. Such salutation argues a glad heart\\nIn our prosperity. We thank you, sir.\\nAlbert. Lady I", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0297.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "28o DRAMAS act i\\nO, would to Heaven your poor servant\\nCould do you better service than mere words! 130\\nBut I have other greeting than mine own,\\nFrom no less man than Otho, who has sent\\nThis ring as pledge of dearest amity\\nT is chosen I hear from Hymen s jewelry,\\nAnd you will prize it, lady, I doubt not,\\nBeyond all pleasures past, and all to come.\\nTo you great duke\\nConrad. To me What of me, ha\\nAlbert. What pleased your grace to say\\nConrad. Your message, sir\\nAlbert. You mean not this to me\\nConrad. Sister, this way\\nFor there shall be no gentle Alberts now, 140\\nNo sweet Auranthes\\n[Exeunt Conrad and Auranthe.\\nAlbert (solus). The duke is out of temper if he\\nknows\\nMore than a brother of his sister ought,\\nI should not quarrel with his peevishness.\\nAuranthe Heaven preserve her always fair\\nIs in the heady, proud, ambitious vein\\nI bicker not with her, bid her farewell\\nShe has taken flight from me, then let her soar,\\nHe is a fool who stands at pining gaze\\nBut for poor Ludolph, he is food for sorrow 150 m\\nNo leveling bluster of my licensed thoughts,\\nNo military swagger of my mind,\\nCan smother from myself the wrong I ve done\\nhim,\\nWithout design indeed, yet it is so,\\nAnd opiate for the conscience have I none\\n[Exit.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0298.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 281\\nScene II. The Court-yard of the Castle\\nMartial Music. Enter, from, the outer gate, Otho,\\nNobles, Knights, and Attendants. The Soldiers halt\\nat the gate, with Banners in sight.\\nOtho. Where is my noble Herald\\nEnter Conrad, from the Castle, attended ly two\\nKnights and Servants. Albert following.\\nWell, hast told\\nAuranthe our intent imperial\\nLest our rent banners, too o the sudden shown,\\nShould fright her silken casements, and dismay\\nHer household to our lack of entertainment.\\nA victory\\nConrad. God save illustrious Otho\\nOtho. Aye, Conrad, it will pluck out all gray\\nhairs\\nIt is the best physician for the spleen\\nThe courtliest inviter to a feast\\nThe subtlest excuser of small faults 10\\nAnd a nice judge in the age and smack of wine.\\nEnter from the Castle, Ajj-rk^hwe., followed by Pages,\\nholding up her robes, and a train of Women. She\\nkneels.\\nHail my sweet hostess I do thank the stars,\\nOr my good soldiers, or their ladies eyes,\\nThat, after such a merry battle fought,\\nI can, all safe in body and in soul.\\nKiss your fair hand and lady fortune s too.\\nMy ring now, on my life, it doth rejoice\\nThese lips to feel t on this soft ivory\\nKeep it, my brightest daughter it may prove\\nThe little prologue to a line of kings. 20\\nI strove against thee and my hot-blood son,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0299.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "282 DRAMAS ACT i\\nDull blockhead that I was to be so blind,\\nBut now my sight is clear forgive me, lady.\\nAuranthe. My lord, I was a vassal to your frown,\\nAnd now your favour makes me but more humble\\nIn wintry winds the simple snow is safe,\\nBut fadeth at the greeting of the sun\\nUnto thine anger I might well have spoken,\\nTaking on me a woman s privilege,\\nBut this so sudden kindness makes me dumb. 30\\nOtho. What need of this Enough, if you will be\\nA potent tutoress to my wayward boy.\\nAnd teach him, what it seems his nurse could not,\\nTo say, for once, I thank you Sigif red\\nAlbert. He has not yet returned, my gracious\\nliege.\\nOtho. What then No tidings of my friendly\\nArab\\nConrad. None, mighty Otho.\\n\\\\^To one of Ms Knights who goes out.\\nSend forth instantly\\nAn hundred horsemen from my honoured gates,\\nTo scour the plains and search the cottages.\\nCry a reward, to him who shall first bring 40\\nNews of that vanished Arabian,\\nA fuU-heap d helmet of the purest gold.\\nOtho. More thanks, good Conrad for, except my\\nson s,\\nThere is no face I rather would behold\\nThan that same quick-eyed pagan s. By the saints,\\nThis coming night of banquets must not light\\nHer dazzling torches nor the music breathe\\nSmooth, without clashing cymbal, tones of peace\\nAnd in-door melodies nor the ruddy wine\\nEbb spouting to the lees if I pledge not, 50\\nIn my first cup, that Arab\\nAlbert. Mighty Monarch,\\nI wonder not this stranger s victor-deeds\\nSo hang upon your spirit. Twice in the fight", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0300.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 283\\nIt was my chance to meet his olive brow,\\nTriumphant in the enemy s shatter d rhomb\\nAnd, to say truth, in any Christian arm\\nI never saw such prowess.\\nOtJio. Did you ever\\nO, t is a noble boy tut what do I say\\nI mean a^triple Saladin, whose eyes.\\nWhen in the glorious scuffle they met mine, 60\\nSeem d to say Sleep, old man, in safety sleep\\nI am the victory\\nConrad. Pity he s not here.\\nOtho. And my son too, pity he is not here.\\nLady Auranthe, I would not make you blush,\\nBut can you give a guess where Ludolph is\\nKnow you not of him\\nAuranthe. Indeed, my liege, no secret\\nOtho. Nay, nay, without more words, dost know\\nof him\\nAuranthe. I would I were so over-fortunate,\\nBoth for his sake and mine, and to make glad\\nA father s ears with tidings of his son. 70\\nOtho. I see tis like to be a tedious day.\\nWere Theodore and Gonfred and the rest\\nSent forth with my commands\\nAlbert. Aye, my lord.\\nOtlio. And no news No news Faith t is very\\nstrange\\nHe thus avoids us. Lady, is t not strange\\nWill he be truant to you too It is a shame.\\nConrad. Will t please your highness enter, and\\naccept,\\nThe unworthy welcome of your servant s house\\nLeaving your cares to one whose diligence\\nMay in few hours make pleasures of them all. 80\\nOtho. Not so tedious, Conrad. No, no, no,\\nI must see Ludolph or the What s that shout\\nVoices loithout. Huzza huzza Long live the\\nEmperor", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0301.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "284 DRAMAS act i\\nOther voices. Fall back Away there\\nOtho. Say what noise is that\\nAlbert advancing from the hack of the\\nwhither he had hastened on hearing the cheers of\\nthe soldiery.\\nAlbert. It is young Gersa, the Hungarian prince,\\nPick d like a red stag from the fallow herd\\nOf prisoners. Poor prince, forlorn he steps,\\nSlow, and demure, and proud in his despair.\\nIf I may judge by his so tragic bearing,\\nHis eyes not downcast, and his folded arm, 90\\nHe doth this moment wish himself asleep\\nAmong his fallen captains on yon plains.\\nEnter Gersa, in chains, and guarded.\\nOtho. Well said. Sir Albert.\\nGersa. Not a word of greeting,\\nNo welcome to a princely visitor.\\nMost mighty Otho Will not my great host\\nVouchsafe a syllable, before he bids\\nHis gentlemen conduct me with all care\\nTo some securest lodging cold perhaps\\nOtTio. What mood is this Hath fortune touch d\\nthy brain\\nOersa. O kings and princes of this fev rous world.\\nWhat abject things, what mockeries must ye be, loi\\nWhat nerveless minions of safe palaces\\nWhen here, a monarch, whose proud foot is used\\nTo fallen princes necks, as to his stirrup,\\nMust needs exclaim that I am mad forsooth,\\nBecause I cannot flatter with bent knees\\nMy conqueror\\nOtho. Gersa, I think you wrong me\\nI think I have a better fame abroad.\\nOersa. I pr ythee mock me not with gentle speech,\\nBut, as a favour, bid me from thy presence no\\nLet me no longer be the wondering food\\nOf all these eyes pr ythee command me hence I", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0302.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "SCENE 11 OTHO THE GREAT 285\\nOtho. Do not mistake me, Gersa. That you may\\nnot,\\nCome, fair xliirantlie, try if j^our soft hands\\nCan manage those hard rivets to set free\\nSo brave a prince and soldier.\\nAuranthe {sets Mm free). Welcome task\\nGersa. I am woiind up in deep astonishment\\nThank you, fair lady. Otho emperor\\nYou rob me of myself my dignity\\nIs now your infant I am a weak child. 120\\nOtiio. Give me your hand, and let this kindly\\ngrasp\\nLive in our memories.\\nGersa. In mine it will.\\nI blush to think of my unchasten d tongue\\nBut I was haunted by the monstrous ghost\\nOf all our slain battalions. Sire, reflect,\\nAnd pardon you will grant, that, at this hour.\\nThe bruised remnants of our stricken camp\\nAre huddling undistinguish d my dear friends,\\nWith common thousands, into shallow graves.\\nOtho. Enough, most noble Gersa. You are free 130\\nTo cheer the brave remainder of your host\\nBy your own healing presence, and that too.\\nNot as their leader merely, but their king\\nFor, as I hear, the wily enemy.\\nWho eased the crownet from your infant brows.\\nBloody Taraxa, is among the dead.\\nGersa. Then I retire, so generous Otho please,\\nBearing with me a weight of benefits\\nToo heavy to be borne.\\nOtJio. It is not so\\nStill understand me, King of Hungary, 140\\nNor judge my open purposes awry.\\nThough I did hold you high in my esteem\\nFor your self s sake, I do not personate\\nThe stage-play emperor to entrap applause,\\nTo set the silly sort 0 the world agape.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0303.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "286 DRAMAS act i\\nAnd make the politic smile no, I have heard\\nHow in the Council you condemn d this war,\\nUrging the perfidy of broken faith,\\nFor that I am your friend.\\nGersa. If ever, sire,\\nYou are my enemy, I dare here swear 150\\nT will not be Gersa s fault. Otho, farewell\\nOtho. Will you return, Prince, to our banqueting\\nGersa. As to my father s board I will return.\\nOtho. Conrad, with all due ceremony, give\\nThe prince a regal escort to his camp\\nAlbert, go thou and bear him company.\\nGersa, farewell\\nGersa. All happiness attend you\\nOtho. Return with what good speed you may for\\nsoon\\nWe must consult upon our terms of peace.\\n[Exeu?it Gersa and Albert with others.\\nAnd thus a marble column do I build 160\\nTo prop my empire s dome. Conrad, in thee\\nI have another steadfast one, to uphold\\nThe portals of my state and, for my own\\nPre-eminence and safety, I will strive\\nTo keep thy strength upon its pedestal.\\nFor, without thee, this day I might have been\\nA show-monster about the streets of Prague,\\nIn chains, as j ust now stood that noble prince\\nAnd then to me no mercy had been shown.\\nFor when the conquer d lion is once dungeon d, 170\\nWho lets him forth again or dares to give\\nAn old lion sugar-cakes of mild reprieve\\nNot to thine ear alone I make confession,\\nBut to all here, as, by experience,\\nI know how the great basement of all power\\nIs frankness, and a true tongue to the world\\nAnd how intriguing secrecy is proof\\nOf fear and weakness, and a hollow state.\\nConrad, I owe thee much.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0304.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 287\\nConrad. To kiss that hand,\\nMy emperor, is ample recompense, 180\\nFor a mere act of duty.\\nOtho. Thou art wrong\\nFor what can any man on earth do more\\nWe will make trial of your house s welcome,\\nMy bright Auranthe\\nConrad. How is Friedburg honoured\\nEnter Ethelbert and six Monies.\\nEthelbert. The benison of heaven on your head,\\nImperial Otho\\nOtJio. Who stays me Speak Quick\\nEthelbert. Pause but one moment, mighty con-\\nqueror\\nUpon the threshold of this house of joy.\\nOtho. Pray, do not prose, good Ethelbert, but\\nspeak\\nWhat is your purpose.\\nEthelbert. The restoration of some captive maids.\\nDevoted to Heaven s pious ministries, 191\\nWho, driven forth from their religious cells,\\nAnd kept in thraldom by our enemy,\\nWhen late this province was a lawless spoil.\\nStill weep amid the wild Hungarian camp.\\nThough hemm d around by thy victorious arms.\\nOtho. Demand the holy sisterhood in our name\\nFrom Gersa s tents. Farewell, old Ethelbert.\\nEthelbert. The saints will bless you for this pious\\ncare.\\nOtho. Daughter, your hand Ludolph s would fit\\nit best. 200\\nConrad. Ho let the music sound\\n{^Music. Ethelbert raises his hands^ as in benedic-\\ntion o/Otho. Exeunt severally. Tlie scene closes\\non them.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0305.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "288 DRAMAS act i\\nScene III. The Country^ with the Castle in the\\ndistance\\nEnter Ludolph and Sigifred.\\nLudolph. You have my secret let it not be\\nbreathed.\\nSigifred. Still give me leave to wonder that the\\nPrince\\nLudolph and the swift Arab are the same\\nStill to rejoice that t was a German arm\\nDeath doing in a turban d masquerade.\\nLudolph. The emperor must not know it, Sigifred.\\nSigifred. I pr ythee, why? What happier hour\\nof time\\nCould thy pleased star point down upon from hea-\\nven\\nWith silver index, bidding thee make peace\\nLudolph. Still it must not be known, good Sigi-\\nfred lo\\nThe star may point oblique.\\nSigifred. If Otho knew\\nHis son to be that unknown Mussulman,\\nAfter whose spurring heels he sent me forth,\\nWith one of. his well-pleased Olympian oaths,\\nThe charters of man s greatness, at this hour\\nHe would be watching round the castle walls.\\nAnd, like an anxious warder, strain his sight\\nFor the first glimpse of such a son return d\\nLudolph, that blast of the Hungarians,\\nThat Saracenic meteor of the fight, 20\\nThat silent fury, whose fell scimitar\\nKept danger all aloof from Otho s head,\\nAnd left him space for wonder.\\nLudolph. Say no more.\\nNot as a swordsman would I pardon claim.\\nBut as a son. The bronzed centurion,\\nLong toil d in foreign wars, and whose high deeds", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0306.jp2"}, "307": {"fulltext": "SCENE III OTHO THE GREAT 289\\nAre shaded in a forest of tall spears,\\nKnown only to his troop, hath greater plea\\nOf favour with my sire than I can have.\\nSigifred. My lord, forgive me that I cannot see\\nHow this proud temper with clear reason squares. 31\\nWhat made you then, with such an anxious love.\\nHover around that life, whose bitter days\\nYou vext with bad revolt Was t opium.\\nOr the mad-fumed wine Nay, do not frown,\\nI rather would grieve with you than upbraid.\\nLudolph. I do believe you. No, t was not to\\nmake\\nA father his son s debtor, or to heal\\nHis deep heart-sickness for a rebel child.\\nT was done in memory of my boyish days, 40\\nPoor cancel for his kindness to my youth,\\nFor all his calming of my childish griefs,\\nAnd all his smiles upon my merriment.\\nNo, not a thousand foughten fields could sponge\\nThose days paternal from my memory,\\nThough now upon my head he heaps disgrace.\\nSigifred. My prince, you think too harshly\\nLudolph. Can I so\\nHath he not gall d my spirit to the quick\\nAnd with a sullen rigour obstinate\\nPour d out a phial of wrath upon my faults 50\\nHunted me as the Tartar does the boar,\\nDriven me to the very edge o the world,\\nAnd almost put a price upon my head\\nSigifred. Remember how he spared the rebel\\nlords.\\nLudolph. Yes, yes, I know he hath a noble nature\\nThat cannot trample on the fallen. But his\\nIs not the only proud heart in his realm.\\nHe hath wrong d me, and I have done him wrong\\nHe hath loved me, and I have shown him kindness\\nWe should be almost equal.\\nYet, for all this, 60", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0307.jp2"}, "308": {"fulltext": "290 DRAMAS ACT I\\nI would you had appear d among those lords,\\nAnd ta en his favour.\\nLudolpli. Ha till now I thought\\nMy friend had held poor Ludolph s honour dear.\\nWhat would you have me sue before his throne\\nAnd kiss the courtier s missal, its silk steps\\nOr hug the golden housings of his steed,\\nAmid a camp, whose steeled swarms I dared\\nBut yesterday And, at the trumpet sound,\\nBow like some unknown mercenary s flag\\nAnd lick the soiled grass No, no, my friend, 70\\nI would not, I, be pardon d in the heap.\\nAnd bless indemnity with all that scum,\\nThose men I mean, who on my shoulders propp d\\nTheir weak rebellion, winning me with lies,\\nAnd pitying forsooth my many wrongs\\nPoor self -deceived wretches, who must think\\nEach one himself a king in embryo,\\nBecause some dozen vassals cried my lord\\nCowards, who never knew their little hearts,\\nTill flurried danger held the mirror up, 80\\nAnd then they own d themselves without a blush,\\nCurling, like spaniels, round my father s feet.\\nSuch things deserted me and are forgiven,\\nWhile I, less guilty, am an outcast still.\\nAnd will be, for I love such fair disgrace.\\nSifjifred. I know the clear truth so would Otho\\nsee.\\nFor he is just and noble. Fain would I\\nBe pleader for you\\nLudolpJi. He 11 hear none of it\\nYou know his temper, hot, proud, obstinate;\\nEndanger not yourself so uselessly. 90\\nI will encounter his thwart spleen myself.\\nTo-day, at the Duke Conrad s, where he keeps\\nHis crowded state after the victory,\\nThere will I be, a most unwelcome guest,\\nAnd parley with him, as a son should do,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0308.jp2"}, "309": {"fulltext": "SCENE III OTHO THE GREAT 291\\nWho doubly loathes a father s tyranny\\nTell him how feeble is that tyranny\\nHow the relationship of father and son\\nIs no more valid than a silken leash\\nWhere lions tug adverse, if love grow not 100\\nFrom interchanged love through many years.\\nAye, and those turreted Franconian walls,\\nLike to a jealous casket, hold my pearl\\nMy fair Auranthe Yes, I will be there.\\nSigifred. Be not so rash wait till his wrath shall\\npass.\\nUntil his royal spirit softly ebbs\\nSelf -influenced then, in his morning dreams\\nHe will forgive thee, and awake in grief\\nTo have not thy good morrow.\\nLudolijh. Yes, to-day\\nI must be there, while her young pulses beat no\\nAmong the new-plumed minions of the war.\\nHave you seen her of late No Auranthe,\\nFranconia s fair sister, tis I mean.\\nShe should be paler for my troublous days\\nAnd there it is my father s iron lips\\nHave sworn divorcement twixt me and my right.\\nSigifred (aside). Auranthe! I had hoped this\\nwhim had pass d.\\nLudol2Jh. And, Sigifred, with all his love of justice.\\nWhen will he take that grandchild in his arms,\\nThat, by my love I swear, shall soon be his 120\\nThis reconcilement is impossible,\\nFor see but who are these\\nSigifred. They are messengers\\nFrom our great emperor to you, I doubt not,\\nFor couriers are abroad to seek you out.\\nEnter Theodore and Gonfred.\\nTheodore. Seeing so many vigilant eyes explore\\nThe province to invite your highness back\\nTo your high dignities, we are too happy.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0309.jp2"}, "310": {"fulltext": "292 DRAMAS ACT ii I\\nOonfred. We have eloquence to colour justly\\nThe emperor s anxious wishes.\\nLudolph. Go. I follow you.\\n[Exeunt Theodore and Gonpred.\\nI play the prude it is but venturing 130\\nWhy should he be so earnest Come, my friend,\\nLet us to Friedburg castle.\\nACT II\\nScene I. An antechamber in the Castle\\nEnter Ludolph and Sigipred.\\nLudolph. No more advices, no more cautioning\\nI leave it all to fate to any thing\\nI cannot square my conduct to time, place,\\nOr circumstance to me tis all a mist\\nSigifred. I say no more.\\nImdolph. It seems I am to wait\\nHere in the anteroom that may be a trifle.\\nYou see now how I dance attendance here,\\nWithout that tyrant temper, you so blame.\\nSnapping the rein. You have medicined me\\nWith good advices and I here remain, 10\\nIn this most honourable anteroom.\\nYour patient scholar.\\nSigifred. Do not wrong me. Prince.\\nBy Heavens, I d rather kiss Duke Conrad s slipper,\\nWhen in the morning he doth yawn with pride.\\nThan see you humbled but a half-degree\\nTruth is, the Emperor would fain dismiss\\nThe Nobles ere he sees you.\\nEnter Gonpred /r6 m the Council-room.\\nLudolph. Well, sir what\\nGonfred. Great honour to the Prince The Em-\\nperor,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0310.jp2"}, "311": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 293\\nHearing that his brave son had reappeared,\\nInstant dismiss d the Council from his sight, 20\\nAs Jove fans off the clouds. Even now they pass.\\n[Bxit.\\nEnter the Nobles from the Council-room. They cross\\nthe Stage, howing with respect to Ludolph, lie\\nfrowning on them. Conrad follows. Exeunt\\nNobles.\\nLudolph. Not the discoloured poisons of a fen.\\nWhich he, who breathes, feels warning of his death,\\nCould taste so nauseous to the bodily sense,\\nAs these prodigious sycophants disgust\\nThe soul s fine palate.\\nConrad. Princely Ludolph, hail\\nWelcome, thou younger sceptre to the realm\\nStrength to thy virgin crownet s golden buds,\\nThat they, against the winter of thy sire.\\nMay burst, and swell, and flourish round thy brows,\\nMaturing to a weighty diadem 31\\nYet be that hour far off and may he live.\\nWho waits for thee, as the chapp d earth for rain.\\nSet my life s star! I have lived long enough,\\nSince under my glad roof, propitiously,\\nFather and son each other re-possess.\\nLudolph. Fine wording, Duke but words could\\nnever yet\\nForestall the fates have you not learnt that yet\\nLet me look well your features are the same\\nYour gait the same your hair of the same shade\\nAs one I knew some passed weeks ago, 41\\nWho sung far different notes into mine ears.\\nI have mine own particular comments on t\\nYou have your own, perhaps.\\nConrad. My gracious Prince,\\nAll men may err. In trutli I was deceived\\nIn your great father s nature, as you were.\\nHad I known that of him I have since known.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0311.jp2"}, "312": {"fulltext": "294 DRAMAS act ii\\nAnd what you soon will learn, I would have turn d\\nMy sword to my own throat, rather than held\\nIts threatening edge against a good King s quiet 50\\nOr with one word fever d you, gentle Prince,\\nWho seem d to me, as rugged times then went,\\nIndeed too much oppress d. May I he bold\\nTo tell the Emperor you will haste to him\\nLudolph. Your Dukedom s privilege will grant so\\nmuch.\\nYExit Conrad.\\nHe s very close to Otho, a tight leech\\nYour hand I go Ha here the thunder comes\\nSullen against the wind If in two angry brows\\nMy safety lies, then Sigifred, I m safe. 59\\nEnter Otho and Conrad.\\nOtho. Will you make Titan play the lackey -page\\nTo chattering pigmies I would have you know\\nThat such neglect of our high Majesty\\nAnnuls all feel of kindred. What is son,\\nOr friend or brother or all ties of blood,\\nWhen the whole kingdom, centred in ourself,\\nIs rudely slighted Who am I to wait\\nBy Peter s chair I have upon my tongue\\nA word to fright the proudest spirit here\\nDeath and slow tortures to the hardy fool.\\nWho dares take such large charter from our smiles\\nConrad, we would be private Sigifred 71\\nOff And none pass this way on pain of death\\n[E.reunt Conrad and Sigifred.\\nLudolph. This was but half expected, my good\\nsire.\\nYet I am grieved at it, to the full height,\\nAs though my hopes of favour had been whole.\\nOtho. How you indulge yourself What can you\\nhope for\\nLudolph. Nothing, my liege, I have to hope for\\nnothing.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0312.jp2"}, "313": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 295\\nI come to greet you as a loving son,\\nAnd then depart, if I may be so free,\\nSeeing tliat blood of yours in my warm veins 80\\nHas not yet mitigated into milk.\\nOtJio. What would you, sir\\nLudolph. A lenient banishment\\nSo please you let me unmolested pass\\nThis Conrad s gates, to the wide air again.\\nI want no more. A rebel wants no more.\\nOtho. And shall I let a rebel loose again\\nTo muster kites and eagles gainst my head\\nNo, obstinate boy, you shall be kept caged up.\\nServed with harsh food, with scum for Sunday-\\ndrink.\\nLudolph. Indeed\\nOtho. And chains too heavy for your life\\nI ll choose a jailer, whose swart monstrous face 90\\nShall be a hell to look upon, and she\\nLudolph. Ha\\nOtho. Shall be your fair Auranthe.\\nLudolph. Amaze Amaze\\nOtho. To-day you marry her.\\nLudolph. This is a sharp jest\\nOtho. No. None at all. When have I said a lie\\nLudolph. If I sleep not, I am a waking wretch,\\nOtho. Not a word more. Let me embrace my\\nchild.\\nLudolph. I dare not. T would pollute so good a\\nfather\\nO heavy crime that your son s blinded eyes\\nCould not see all his parent s love aright, 100\\nAs now I see it. Be not kind to me\\nPunish me not with favour.\\nOtho. Are you sure,\\nLudolph, you have no saving plea in store\\nLudolph. My father, none\\nOtho. Thjgn you astonish me.\\nLudolph. No, I have no plea. Disobedience,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0313.jp2"}, "314": {"fulltext": "296 DRAMAS ACT II\\nRebellion, obstinacy, blasphemy,\\nAre all my counsellors. If they can make\\nMy crooked deeds show good and plausible,\\nThen grant^me loving pardon, but not else,\\nGood Gods not else, in any way, my liege\\nOtho. You are a most perplexing noble boy. m\\nLudolph. You not less a perplexing noble father.\\nOtho. Well, you shall have free passport through\\nthe gates.\\nFarewell\\nLudolph. Farewell and by these tears believe,\\nAnd still remember, I repent in pain\\nAll my misdeeds\\nOtho. Ludolph, I will I will\\nBut, Ludolph, ere you go, I would inquire\\nIf you in all your wandering, ever met\\nA certain Arab haunting in these parts.\\nLudolph. No, my good lord, I cannot say I did.\\nOthx). Make not your father blind before his\\ntime 121\\nNor let these arms paternal hunger more\\nFor an embrace, to dull the appetite\\nOf my great love for thee, my supreme child\\nCome close, and let me breathe into thine ear.\\nI knew you through disguise. You are the Arab\\nYou can t deny it. {Embracing him,\\nLudolph. Happiest of days\\n0th/). We ll make it so.\\nlAidolph. Stead of one fatted calf\\nTen hecatombs shall bellow out their last.\\nSmote twixt the horns by the death-stunning mace\\nOf Mars, and all the soldiery shall feast 131\\nNobly as Nimrod s masons, when the towers\\nOf Nineveh new kiss d the parted clouds!\\nOtho. Large as a God speak out, where all is\\nthine.\\nLAidolph. Ay, father, but the fire in my sad breast\\nIs quench d with inward tears I must rejoice\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0314.jp2"}, "315": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 297\\nFor you, whose wings so shadow over me\\nIn tender victory, but for myself\\nI still must mourn. The fair Auranthe mine 1\\nToo great a boon I pr y thee let me ask 140\\nWhat more than I know of could so have changed\\nYour purpose touching her.\\nOtJio. At a word, this\\nIn no deed did you give me more offence\\nThan your rejection of Erminia.\\nTo my appalling, I saw too good proof\\nOf your keen-eyed suspicion, she is naught\\nLudolph. You are convinced\\nOtlio. Ay, spite of her sweet looks,\\nO, that my brother s daughter should so fall\\nHer fame has pass d into the grosser lips\\nOf soldiers in their cups.\\nLudolph. T is very sad. 150\\nOtho. No more of her. Auranthe Ludolph,\\ncome\\nThis marriage be the bond of endless peace\\n{^Exeunt.\\nScene II. The entrance 7/ Gersa s Tent in the\\nHungarian Camp\\nEnter Erminia.\\nErminia. Where where where shall I find a mes-\\nsenger\\nA trusty soul A good man in the camp\\nShall I go myself? Monstrous wickedness\\nO cursed Conrad devilish Auranthe\\nHere is proof palpable as the bright sun\\nO for a voice to reach the Emperor s ears\\n\\\\81iout8 in the ca/mp.\\nEnter an Hungarian Captain.\\nCaptain. Fair prisoner, you hear those joyous\\nshouts", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0315.jp2"}, "316": {"fulltext": "298 DRAMAS ACT II\\nThe king aye, now our king, but still your\\nslave,\\nYoung Gersa, from a short captivity\\nHas just return d. He bids me say, bright dame, 10\\nThat even the homage of his ranged chiefs\\nCures not his keen impatience to behold\\nSuch beauty once again. What ails you, lady\\nErminia. Say, is not that a German, yonder\\nThere\\nCaptain. Methinks by his stout bearing he should\\nbe\\nYes it is Albert a brave German knight.\\nAnd much in the Emperor s favour.\\nErminia. I would fain\\nInquire of friends and kinsfolk how they fared\\nIn these rough times. Brave soldier, as you pass\\nTo royal Gersa with my humble thanks, 20\\nWill you send yonder knight to me 1\\nCaptain. I will. \\\\^Exit.\\nErminia. Yes, he was ever known to be a man\\nFrank, open, generous Albert I may trust.\\nO proof proof proof Albert s an honest man\\nNot Ethelbert the monk, if he were here,\\nWould I hold more trustworthy. Now\\nEnter Albert.\\nAlbert. Good Gods\\nLady Erminia are you prisoner\\nIn this beleaguer d camp Or are you here\\nOf your own will You pleased to send for me.\\nBy Venus, t is a pity I knew not 30\\nYour plight before, and, by her Son, I swear\\nTo do you every service you can ask.\\nWhat would the fairest\\nErmina. Albert, will you swear\\nAlbert. I have. Well\\nErminia. Albert, you have fame to lose.\\nIf men, in court and camp, lie not outright,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0316.jp2"}, "317": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 299\\nYou should be, from a thousand, chosen forth\\nTo do an honest deed. Shall I confide\\nAlbert. Aye, any thing to me, fair creature. Do;\\nDictate my task. Sweet woman,\\nErminia. Truce with that.\\nYou understand me not and, in your speech, 40\\nI see how far the slander is abroad.\\nWithout proof could you think me innocent\\nAlbert. Lady, I should rejoice to know you so.\\nErminia. If you have any pity for a maid,\\nSuffering a daily death from evil tongues\\nAny compassion for that Emperor s niece,\\nWho, for your bright sword and clear honesty,\\nLifted you from the crowd of common men\\nInto the lap of honour save me, knight\\nAlbert. How Make it clear if it be possible,\\nI by the banner of St. Maurice swear 51\\nTo right you.\\nErminia. Possible Easy. O my heart\\nThis letter s not so soil d but you may read it\\nPossible There that letter Kead read it.\\n[^Oives Mm a letter.\\nAlbert {reading).\\nTo the Duke Conrad. Forget the threat you\\nmade at parting, and I will forget to send the Em-\\nperor letters and papers of yours I have become pos-\\nsessed of. His life is no trifle to me his death you\\nshall find none to yourself. (Speaks to himself.)\\nTis me my life that s pleaded for! (Beads).\\nHe, for his own sake, will be dumb as the grave.\\nErminia has my shame fix d upon her, sure as a wen.\\nWe are safe. Auranthe.\\nA she-devil A dragon I her imp\\nFire of Hell Auranthe lewd demon\\nWhere got you this Where When\\nErminia. I found it in the tent, among some\\nspoils", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0317.jp2"}, "318": {"fulltext": "300 DRAMAS act ii\\nWhich, being noble, fell to Gersa s lot.\\nCome in, and see. \\\\_They go in and return.\\nAlbert. Villainy Villainy\\nConrad s sword, his corselet, and his helm, 70\\nAnd his letter. Caitiff, he shall feel\\nErminia. I see you are thunderstruck. Haste,\\nhaste away\\nAlbert. O, I am tortured by this villainy.\\nErminia. You needs must be. Carry it swift to\\nOtho;\\nTell him, moreover, I am prisoner\\nHere in this camp, where all the sisterhood,\\nForced from their quiet cells, are parcel d out\\nFor slaves among these Huns. Away Away\\nAlbert. I am gone.\\nErminia. Swift be your steed Within this hour\\nThe Emperor will see it.\\nAlbert. Ere I sleep 80\\nThat I can swear. {Hurries out.\\nGersa {without). Brave captains thanks. Enough\\nOf loyal homage now\\nEnter Gersa.\\nErminia. Hail, royal Hun\\nOersa. What means this, fair one Why in such\\nalarm\\nWho was it hurried by me so distract\\nIt seem d you were in deep discourse together\\nYour doctrine has not been so harsh to him\\nAs to my poor deserts. Come, come, be plain.\\nI am no jealous fool to kill you both.\\nOr, for such trifles, rob th adorned world\\nOf such a beauteous vestal.\\nErminia. I grieve, my Lord, 90\\nTo hear you condescend to ribald-phrase.\\nGersa. This is too much Hearken, my lady pure\\nErminia. Silence! and hear the magic of a\\nname", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0318.jp2"}, "319": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 301\\nErminia I am she, the Emperor s niece\\nPraised be the Heavens, I now dare own myself\\nOersa. Erminia Indeed I ve heard of her.\\nPr ythee, fair lady, what chance brought you here\\nErminia. Ask your own soldiers.\\nGersa. And you dare own your name.\\nFor loveliness you may and for the rest\\nMy vein is not censorious.\\nErminia. Alas poor me 100\\nT is false indeed.\\nOersa. Indeed you are too fair\\nThe swan, soft leaning on her fledgy breast,\\nWhen to the stream she launches, looks not back\\nWith such a tender grace nor are her wings\\nSo white as your soul is, if that but be\\nTwin picture to your face, Erminia\\nTo-day, for the first day, I am a king,\\nYet would I give my unworn crown away\\nTo know you spotless.\\nErminia. Trust me one day more,\\nGenerously, without more certain guarantee, no\\nThan this poor face you deign to praise so much\\nAfter that, say and do whate er you please.\\nIf I have any knowledge of you, sir,\\nI think, nay I am sure, you will grieve much\\nTo hear my story. O be gentle to me,\\nFor I am sick and faint with many wrongs.\\nTired out, and weary- worn with contumelies.\\nGersa. Poor lady\\nEnter Ethelbekt.\\nErminia. Gentle Prince, tis false indeed.\\nGood morrow, holy father I have had\\nYour prayers, though I look d for you in vain. 120\\nEthelhert. Blessings upon you, daughter! Sure\\nyou look\\nToo cheerful for these foul pernicious days.\\nYoung man, you heard this virgin say t was false,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0319.jp2"}, "320": {"fulltext": "302 DRAMAS act ii\\nT is false, I say. What can you not employ\\nYour temper elsewhere, mong those burly tents,\\nBut you must taunt this dove, for she hath lost\\nThe Eagle Otho to beat off assault\\nFie Fie But I will be her guard myself,\\nr the Emperor s name. I here demand\\nHerself, and all her sisterhood. She false 130\\nGersa. Peace! peace, old man! I cannot think\\nshe is.\\nEthelbert. Whom I have known from her first in-\\nfancy,\\nBaptized her in the bosom of the Church,\\nWatch d her, as anxious husbandmen the grain,\\nFrom the first shoot till the unripe mid-May,\\nThen to the tender ear of her June days,\\nWhich, lifting sweet abroad its timid green,\\nIs blighted by the touch of calumny\\nYou cannot credit such a monstrous tale.\\nGersa. I cannot. Take her. Fair Erminia, 140\\nI follow you to Friedburg, is t not so?\\nErminia. Ay, so we purpose.\\nEthelbert. Daughter, do you so\\nHow s this I marvel Yet you look not mad.\\nErminia. I have good news to tell you, Ethelbert.\\nGersa. Ho ho, there Guards\\nYour blessing, father Sweet Erminia,\\nBelieve me, I am well nigh sure\\nErminia. Farewell.\\nShort time will show. [Enter Chiefs.\\nYes, father Ethelbert,\\nI have news precious as we pass along. 149\\nEthelbert. Dear daughter, you shall guide me.\\nErminia. To no ill.\\nGersa. Command an escort to the Friedburg\\nlines, [Exeunt Chiefs.\\nPray let me lead. Fair lady, forget not\\nGersa, how he believed you innocent.\\nI follow you to Friedburg with all speed.\\n[Exeunt.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0320.jp2"}, "321": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 303\\nACT III\\nScene I. The Country\\nEnter Albert.\\nAlbert. O that the earth were empty, as when\\nCain\\nHad no perplexity to hide his head\\nOr that the sword of some brave enemy\\nHad put a sudden stop to my hot breath,\\nAnd hurl d me down the illimitable gulf\\nOf times past, unremember d Better so\\nThan thus fast-limed in a cursed snare,\\nThe white limbs of a wanton. This the end\\nOf an aspiring life My boyhood past\\nIn feud with w^olves and bears, when no eye saw 10\\nThe solitary warfare, fought for love\\nOf honour mid the growling wilderness.\\nMy sturdier youth, maturing to the sword,\\nWon by the syren-trumpets, and the ring\\nOf shields upon the pavement, when bright mail d\\nHenry the Fowler pass d the streets of Prague.\\nWas t to this end I louted and became\\nThe menial of Mars, and held a spear\\nSway d by command, as corn is by the wind\\nIs it for this, I now am lifted up 20\\nBy Europe s throned Emperor, to see\\nMy honour be my executioner,\\nMy love of fame, my prided honesty\\nPut to the torture for confessional\\nThen the damn d crime of blurting to the world\\nA woman s secret Though a fiend she be,\\nToo tender of my ignominious life\\nBut then to wrong the generous Emperor\\nIn such a searching point, were to give up\\nMy soul for foot-ball at Hell s holiday 30\\nI must confess, and cut my throat, to-day\\nTo-morrow Ho some wine", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0321.jp2"}, "322": {"fulltext": "304 DRAMAS act hi\\nEnter Sigifred.\\nSigifred. A fine humour\\nAlbert. Who goes there Count Sigifred Ha\\nha!\\nSigifred. What, man, do you mistake the hollow\\nsky\\nFor a throng d tavern, and these stubbed trees\\nFor old serge hangings, me, your humble friend,\\nFor a poor waiter Why, man, how you stare\\nWhat gipsies have you been carousing with\\nNo, no more wine methinks you ve had enough.\\nAlbert. You well may laugh and banter. What\\na fool 40\\nAn injury may make of a staid man\\nYou shall know all anon.\\nSigifred. Some tavern brawl\\nAlbert. T was with some people out of common\\nreach\\nRevenge is difficult.\\nSigifred. I am your friend\\nWe meet again to-day, and can confer\\nUpon it. For the present I m in haste.\\nAlbert. Whither\\nSigifred. To fetch King Gersa to the feast.\\nThe Emperor on this marriage is so hot,\\nPray Heaven it end not in apoplexy\\nThe very porters, as I pass d the doors, 50\\nHeard his loud laugh, and answer d in full choir.\\nI marvel, Albert, you delay so long\\nFrom these bright revelries go, show yourself,\\nYou may be made a duke.\\nAlbert. K.j, very like\\nPray, what day has his Highness fix d upon\\nSigifred. For what\\nAlbert. The marriage. What else can I mean\\nSigifred. To-day. O, I forgot, you could not\\nknow\\nThe news is scarce a minute old with me.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0322.jp2"}, "323": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 305\\nAlbert. Married to day To-day You did not\\nsay so\\nSigifred. Now, while I speak to you, their comely\\nheads 60\\nAre bow d before the mitre.\\nAlbert. O monstrous\\nSigifred. What is this\\nAlbert. Nothing, Sigifred. Farewell!\\nWe 11 meet upon our subject. Farewell, count\\n[Exit.\\nSigifred. Is this clear-headed Albert He brain-\\nturn d\\nT is as portentous as a meteor. [Exit.\\nScene II. An Apartment in the Castle\\nEnter as from the Marriage, Otho, Ludolph,\\nAuRANTHE, Conrad, Nobles, Knights, Ladies, etc.\\nMusic.\\nOtho. Now Ludolph Now Auranthe Daugh-\\nter fair\\nWhat can I find to grace your nuptial day\\nMore than my love, and these wide realms in fee\\nLudolph. I have too much.\\nAuranthe. And I, my liege, by far.\\nLudolph. Auranthe I have O, my bride, my\\nlove\\nNot all the gaze upon us can restrain\\nMy eyes, too long poor exiles from thy face,\\nFrom adoration, and my foolish tongue\\nFrom uttering soft responses to the love\\nI see in thy mute beauty beaming forth 10\\nFair creature, bless me with a single word\\nAll mine\\nAuranthe. Spare, spare me, my Lord I swoon\\nelse.\\nLudolph. Soft beauty by to-morrow I should die,\\nWert thou not mine. Thei/ talk apart.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0323.jp2"}, "324": {"fulltext": "3o6 DRAMAS act hi\\nIst Lady. How deep she has bewitch d him\\n1st Knight. Ask you for her recipe for love phil-\\ntres.\\n2d Lady. They hold the Emperor in admiration.\\nOtJw. If ever king was happy, that am I\\nWhat are the cities yond the Alps to me,\\nThe provinces about the Danube s mouth,\\nThe promise of fair sail beyond the Rhone 20\\nOr routing out of Hyperborean hordes,\\nTo these fair children, stars of a new age\\nUnless perchance I might rejoice to win\\nThis little ball of earth, and chuck it them\\nTo play with\\nAuranthe. Nay, my Lord, I do not know.\\nLudolph. Let me not famish.\\nOtho (to Conrad). Good Franconia,\\nYou heard what oath I sware, as the sun rose,\\nThat unless Heaven would send me back my\\nson.\\nMy Arab, no soft music should enrich\\nThe cool wine, kiss d off with a soldier s smack 30\\nNow all my empire, barter d for one feast.\\nSeems poverty.\\nConrad. Upon the neighbour- plain\\nThe heralds have prepared a royal lists\\nYour knights, found war-proof in the bloody field,\\nSpeed to the game.\\nOtho. Well, Ludolph, what say you\\nLudolph. My lord\\nOtho. A tourney\\nConrad. Or, if t please you best\\nLudolph. I want no more\\nIs^ Lady. He soars\\nM Lady. Past all reason.\\nImdol^ph. Though heaven s choir\\nShould in a vast circumference descend\\nAnd sing for my delight, I d stop my ears 40\\nThough bright Apollo s car stood burning here,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0324.jp2"}, "325": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 307\\nAnd he put out an arm to bid me mount,\\nHis touch an immortality, not I\\nThis earth, this palace, this room, Auranthe!\\nOtho. This is a little painful just too much.\\nConrad, if he flames longer in this wise,\\nI shall believe in wizard-woven loves\\nAnd old romances but I 11 break the spell/\\nLudolph\\nConrad. He 11 be calm, anon.\\nLudolph. You call d\\nYes, yes, yes, I offend. You must forgive me 50\\nNot being quite recover d from the stun\\nOf your large bounties. A tourney, is it not\\n[J. senet heard faintly.\\nConrad. The trumpets reach us.\\nEthelhert (^mthout). On your peril, sirs,\\nDetain us!\\n\\\\8t Voice iwithoiit). Let not the abbot pass.\\n2 Voice {icithout). No,\\nOn your lives\\n\\\\st Voice {without). Holy father, you must not.\\nEthelbert {without). Otho\\nOtho. Who calls on Otho\\nEthelhert {without). Ethelbert\\nOtho. Let him come in.\\nEnter Ethelbert leading in Erminia.\\nThou cursed abbot, why\\nHast brought pollution to our holy rites\\nHast thou no fear of hangman, or the faggot\\nLudolph. What portent what strange prodigy\\nis this 60\\nConrad. Away\\nEthelbert. You, Duke\\nErminia. Albert has surely fail d me\\nLook at the Emperor s brow upon me bent\\nEthelbert. A sad delay\\nConrad. Away, thou guilty thing", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0325.jp2"}, "326": {"fulltext": "3o8 DRAMAS act iii\\nEthelhert. You again, Duke Justice, most noble\\nOtho\\nYou go to your sister there and plot again,\\nA quick plot, swift as thought to save your heads\\nFor lo the toils are spread around your den.\\nThe world is all agape to see dragg d forth\\nTwo ugly monsters.\\nLudolph. What means he, my lord\\nConrad. I cannot guess.\\nEthelbert. Best ask your lady sister,\\nWhether the riddle puzzles her beyond 71\\nThe power of utterance.\\nConrad. Foul barbarian, cease\\nThe Princess faints!\\nLudolph. Stab him O, sweetest wife\\n{^Attendants hear off Auranthe,\\nErminia. Alas\\nEtJielhert. Your wife\\nLudolph. Aj, Satan does that yerk ye\\nEthelbert. Wife so soon\\nLudolph. Ay, wife Oh, impudence\\nThou bitter mischief Venomous bad priest\\nHow dar st thou lift those beetle brows at me\\nMe the prince Ludolph, in this presence here,\\nUpon my marriage day, and scandalize\\nMy joys with such opprobrious surprise 80\\nWife Why dost linger on that syllable.\\nAs if it were some demon s name pronounced\\nTo summon harmful lightning, and make yawn\\nThe sleepy thunder Hast no sense of fear\\nNo ounce of man in thy mortality\\nTremble for, at my nod, the sharpen d axe\\nWill make thy bold tongue quiver to the roots.\\nThose gray lids wink, and thou not know it, monk\\nEthelhert. O, poor deceived Prince 1 I pity thee\\nGreat Otho I claim justice\\nLudolph. Thou shalt have t\\nThine arms from forth a pulpit of hot fire 91", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0326.jp2"}, "327": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 309\\nShall sprawl distracted O that that dull cowl\\nWere some most sensitive portion of thy life,\\nThat I might give it to my hounds to tear\\nThy girdle some fine zealous-pained nerve\\nTo girth my saddle! And those devil s beads\\nEach one a life, that I might, every day,\\nCrush one with Vulcan s hammer\\nOtlio. Peace, my son\\nYou far outstrip my spleen in this affair.\\nLet us be calm, and hear the abbot s plea 100\\nFor this intrusion.\\nLudolph. I am silent, sire.\\nOtho. Conrad, see all depart not wanted here.\\n[^Exeunt Knights, Ladies, etc.\\nLudolph, be calm. Ethelbert, peace awhile.\\nThis mystery demands an audience\\nOf a just judge, and that will Otho be.\\nLudolph. Why has he time to breathe another\\nword\\nOtho. Ludolph, old Ethelbert, be sure, comes not\\nTo beard us for no cause he s not the man\\nTo cry himself up an ambassador\\nWithout credentials.\\nLudolph. I 11 chain up myself.\\nOtho. Old abbot, stand here forth. Lady Er-\\nminia, m\\nSit. And now, abbot what have you to say\\nOur ear is open. First we here denounce\\nHard penalties against thee, if t be found\\nThe cause for which you have disturb d us here.\\nMaking our bright hours muddy, be a thing\\nOf little moment.\\nEthelbei t. See this innocent\\nOtho! thou father of the people call d.\\nIs her life nothing Her fair honour nothing\\nHer tears from matins until even-song 120\\nNothing Her burst heart nothing Emperor\\nIs this your gentle niece the simplest flower", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0327.jp2"}, "328": {"fulltext": "3IO DRAMAS act hi\\nOf the world s herbal this fair lily blanch d\\nStill with the dews of piety, this meek lady\\nHere sitting like an angel newly-shent,\\nWho veils its snowy wings and grows all pale,\\nIs she nothing\\nOtho. What more to the purpose, abbot\\nLudolph. Whither is he winding\\nConrad. No clue yet!\\nEthelhert. You have heard, my Liege, and so, no\\ndoubt, all here,\\nFoul, poisonous, malignant whisperings 130\\nNay open speech, rude mockery grown common,\\nAgainst the spotless nature and clear fame\\nOf the princess Erminia, your niece.\\nI have intruded here thus suddenly.\\nBecause I hold those base weeds, with tight hand,\\nWhich now disfigure her fair growing stem,\\nWaiting but for your sign to pull them up\\nBy the dark roots, and leave her palpable,\\nTo all men s sight, a lady innocent.\\nThe ignominy of that whisper d tale 140\\nAbout a midnight gallant, seen to climb\\nA window to her chamber neighbour d near,\\nI will from her turn off, and put the load\\nOn the right shoulders on that wretch s head.\\nWho, by close stratagems, did save herself,\\nChiefly by shifting to this lady s room\\nA rope-ladder for false witness.\\nLudolph. Most atrocious\\nOtho. Ethelbert, proceed.\\nEthelhert. With sad lips I shall\\nFor, in the healing of one wound, I fear\\nTo make a greater. His young highness here 150\\nTo-day was married.\\nLudolph. Good.\\nEthelbert. Would it were good\\nYet why do I delay to spread abroad\\nThe names of those two vipers, from whose jaw", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0328.jp2"}, "329": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 311\\nA deadly breath went forth to taint and blast\\nThis guileless lady\\nOtJio. Abbot, speak their names.\\nEthelbert. A minute first. It cannot be but\\nmay\\nI ask, great judge, if you to-day have put\\nA letter by unread\\nOtJio. Does t end in this\\nConrad. Out with their names\\nEthelbert. Bold sinner, say you so\\nLudolph. Out, hideous monk\\nOtho. Confess, or by the wheel\\nEthelbert. My evidence cannot be far away 161\\nAnd, though it never come, be on my head\\nThe crime of passing an attaint upon\\nThe slanderers of this virgin,\\nLudolph. Speak aloud\\nEthelbert. Auranthe, and her brother there.\\nConrad. Amaze\\nLudolph. Throw them from the windows\\nOtho. Do what you will\\nLudolph. What shall I do with them\\nSomething of quick dispatch, for should she hear,\\nMy soft Auranthe, her sweet mercy would\\nPrevail against my fury. Damned priest 170\\nWhat swift death wilt thou die As to the lady,\\nI touch her not.\\nEthelbert. Illustrious Otho, stay\\nAn ample store of misery thou hast,\\nChoke not the granary of thy noble mind\\nWith more bad bitter grain, too difficult\\nA cud for the repentance of a man\\nGray-growing. To thee only I appeal,\\nNot to thy noble son, whose y easting youth\\nWill clear itself, and crystal turn again.\\nA young man s heart, by Heaven s blessing, is 180\\nA wide world, where a thousand new-born hopes\\nEmpurple fresh the melancholy blood", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0329.jp2"}, "330": {"fulltext": "312 DRAMAS ACT iii\\nBut an old man s is narrow, tenantless\\nOf hopes, and stuff d witli many memories,\\nWhich, being pleasant, ease the heavy pulse\\nPainful, clog up and stagnate. Weigh this matter\\nEven as a miser balances his coin\\nAnd, in the name of mercy, give command\\nThat your knight Albert be brought here before\\nyou.\\nHe will expound this riddle he will show 190\\nA noon-day proof of bad Auranthe s guilt,\\nOtho. Let Albert straight be summon d.\\n[^Exit one of the Nobles.\\nLudolpJi. Impossible\\nI cannot doubt I will not no to doubt\\nIs to be ashes wither d up to death\\nOtho. My gentle Ludolph, harbour not a fear\\nYou do yourself much wrong.\\nImdolph. O, wretched dolt\\nNow, when my foot is almost on thy neck.\\nWilt thou infuriate me Proof Thou fool\\nWhy wilt thou tease impossibility\\nWith such a thick-skull d persevering suit 200\\nFanatic obstinacy Prodigy\\nMonster of folly Ghost of a turn d brain\\nYou puzzle me, you haunt me, when I dream\\nOf you my brain will split Bold sorcerer\\nJuggler May I come near you On my soul\\nI know not whether to pity, curse, or laugh.\\nEnter Albert, and the Nobleman.\\nHere, Albert, this old phantom wants a proof\\nGive him his proof A camel s load of proofs\\nOtho. Albert, I speak to you as to a man\\nWhose words once utter d pass like current gold 210\\nAnd therefore fit to calmly put a close\\nTo this brief tempest. Do you stand possess d\\nOf any proof against the honourableness\\nOf Lady Auranthe, our new-spoused daughter", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0330.jp2"}, "331": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 313\\nAlbert. You chill me with astonishment. How s\\nthis\\nMy liege, what proof should I have gainst a fame\\nImpossible of slur [Otho rises.\\nErminia. O wickedness 1\\nEthelhert. Deluded monarch, t is a cruel lie.\\nOtho. Peace, rebel-priest\\nConrad. Insult beyond credence 220\\nErminia. Almost a dream\\nLudolph. We have awaked from\\nA foolish dream that from my brow hath wrung\\nA wrathful dew. O folly why did I\\nSo act the lion with this silly gnat\\nLet them depart. Lady Erminia\\nI ever grieved for you, as who did not\\nBut now you have, with such a brazen front,\\nSo most maliciously, so madly striven\\nTo dazzle the soft moon, when tenderest clouds\\nShould be unloop d around to curtain her\\nI leave you to the desert of the world 230\\nAlmost with pleasure. Let them be set free\\nFor me I take no personal revenge\\nMore than against a nightmare, which a man\\nForgets in the new dawn. {Exit Ludolph.\\nOtho. Still in extremes No, they must not be\\nloose.\\nEthelhert. Albert, I must suspect thee of a crime\\nSo fiendish\\nOtho. Fear st thou not my fury, monk\\nConrad, be they in your safe custody\\nTill we determine some fit punishment. 240\\nIt is so mad a deed, I must reflect\\nAnd question them in private for perhaps.\\nBy patient scrutiny, we may discover\\nWhether they merit death, or should be placed\\nIn care of the physicians.\\n[Exeunt Otho and Nobles, Ai,be,rt following.\\nConrad. My guards, ho 1", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0331.jp2"}, "332": {"fulltext": "314 DRAMAS act hi\\nErminia. Albert, wilt thou follow there\\nWilt thou creep dastardly behind his back,\\nAnd shrink away from a weak woman s eye\\nTurn, thou court- Janus thou forgett st thyself;\\nHere is the duke, waiting with open arms.\\nEnter Guards.\\nTo thank thee here congratulate each other 250\\nWring hands embrace and swear how lucky\\nt was\\nThat I, by happy chance, hit the right man\\nOf all the world to trust in.\\nAlbert. Trust to me\\nConrad {aside). He is the sole one in this mystery.\\nErminia. Well, I give up, and save my prayers\\nfor Heaven\\nYou, who could do this deed, would ne er relent,\\nThough, at my words, the hollow prison-vaults\\nWould groan for pity.\\nConrad. Manacle them both\\nEthelbert. I know it it must be I see it all 1\\nAlbert, thou art the minion\\nErminia. Ah too plain 260\\nConrad. Silence Gag up their mouths I cannot\\nbear\\nMore of this brawling. That the Emperor\\nHad placed you in some other custody\\nBring them away. [Exeuiit all but Albert.\\nAlbert. Though my name perish from the book of\\nhonour,\\nAlmost before the recent ink is dry,\\nAnd be no more remember d after death,\\nThan any drummer s in the muster-roll\\nYet shall I season high my sudden fall\\nWith triumph o er that evil-witted duke 270\\nHe shall feel what it is to have the hand\\nOf a man drowning, on his hateful throat.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0332.jp2"}, "333": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 315\\nEnter Gersa and Sigifred.\\nOersa. What discord is at ferment in this house\\nSigifred. We are without con j ecture not a soul\\nWe met could answer any certainty.\\nOersa. Young Ludolph, like a fiery arrow, shot\\nBy us.\\nSigifred. The Emperor, with cross d arms, in\\nthought.\\nGersa. In one room music, in another sadness,\\nPerplexity every where\\nAlbert. A trifle more\\nFollow your presences will much avail 280\\nTo tune our jan-ed spirits. I 11 explain. \\\\_Exeunt.\\nACT IV\\nScene I. Auranthe s Apartment\\nAuRANTHE and Conrad discovered.\\nConrad. Well, well, I know what ugly j eopardy\\nWe are caged in you need not pester that\\nInto my ears. Pr ythee, let me be spared\\nA foolish tongue, that I may bethink me\\nOf remedies with some deliberation.\\nYou cannot doubt but t is in Albert s power\\nTo crush or save us\\nAuranthe. No, I cannot doubt.\\nHe has, assure yourself, by some strange means.\\nMy secret which I ever hid from him.\\nKnowing his mawkish honesty.\\nConrad. Cursed slave 10\\nAuranthe. Ay, I could almost curse him now my-\\nself.\\nWretched impediment Evil genius\\nA glue upon my wings, that cannot spread,\\nWhen they should span the provinces A snake,\\nA scorpion, sprawling on the first gold step.\\nConducting to the throne, high canopied.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0333.jp2"}, "334": {"fulltext": "3i6 DRAMAS act iv\\nConrad. You would not hear my counsel, when\\nhis life\\nMight have been trodden out, all sure and hush d\\nNow the dull animal forsooth must be\\nIntreated, managed When can you contrive 20\\nThe interview he demands\\nAuranthe. As speedily\\nIt must be done as my bribed woman can\\nUnseen conduct him to me but I fear\\nT will be impossible, while the broad day\\nComes through the panes with persecuting glare.\\nMe thinks, if t now were night I could intrigue\\nWith darkness, bring the stars to second me,\\nAnd settle all this trouble.\\nConrad. Nonsense Child\\nSee him immediately why not now\\nAuranthe. Do you forget that even the senseless\\ndoor-posts 30\\nAre on the watch and gape through all the house\\nHow many whisperers there are about,\\nHungry for evidence to ruin me\\nMen I have spurn d, and women I have taunted\\nBesides, the foolish prince sends, minute whiles,\\nHis pages so they tell me to inquire\\nAfter my health, intreating, if I please,\\nTo see me.\\nConrad. Well, suppose this Albert here\\nWhat is your power with him\\nAuranthe. He should be\\nMy echo, my taught parrot but I fear 40\\nHe will be cur enough to bark at me\\nHave his own say read me some silly screed\\nBout shame and pity.\\nConrad. What will you do then\\nAuranthe. What I shall do, I know not what I\\nwould\\nCannot be done for see, this chamber-floor", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0334.jp2"}, "335": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 317\\nWill not yield to the pick-axe and the spade,\\nHere is no quiet depth of hollow ground.\\nConrad. Sister, you have grown sensible and wise,\\nSeconding, ere I speak it, what is now,\\nI hope, resolved between us.\\nAurantTu. Say, what is t 50\\nConrad. You need not be his sexton too a man\\nMay carry that with him shall make him die\\nElsewhere, give that to him pretend the while\\nYou will to-morrow succumb to his wishes,\\nBe what they may, and send him from the Castle\\nOn some fool s errand let his latest groan\\nFrighten the wolves\\nAuranthe. Alas he must not die\\nConrad. Would you were both hearsed up in sti-\\nfling lead\\nDetested\\nAuranthe. Conrad, hold I would not bear\\nThe little thunder of your fretful tongue, 60\\nTho I alone were taken in these toils,\\nAnd you could free me but remember, sir.\\nYou live alone in my security\\nSo keep your wits at work, for your own sake,\\nNot mine, and be more mannerly.\\nConrad. Thou wasp\\nIf my domains were emptied of these folk.\\nAnd I had thee to starve\\nAuranthe. O, marvellous\\nBut, Conrad, now be gone the Host is look d for;\\nCringe to the Emperor, entertain the Lords,\\nAnd, do ye mind, above all things, proclaim 70\\nMy sickness, with a brother s sadden d eye,\\nCondoling with Prince Ludolph. In fit time\\nReturn to me.\\nConrad. I leave you to your thoughts. [Exit.\\nAuranthe (sola). Down, down, proud temper\\ndown, Auranthe s pride", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0335.jp2"}, "336": {"fulltext": "3i8 DRAMAS act iv\\nWhy do I anger him when I should kneel\\nConrad Albert help help What can I do\\nwretched woman lost, wreck d, swallow d up,\\nAccursed, blasted O, thou golden Crown,\\nOrbing along the serene firmament\\nOf a wide empire, like a glowing moon 80\\nAnd thou, bright sceptre lustrous in my eyes,\\nThere as the fabled fair Hesperian tree,\\nBearing a fruit more precious graceful thing,\\nDelicate, godlike, magic must I leave\\nThee to melt in the visionary air,\\nEre, by one grasp, this common hand is made\\nImperial I do not know the time\\nWhen I have wept for sorrow but methinks\\n1 could now sit upon the ground, and shed\\nTears, tears of misery O, the heavy day 90\\nHow shall I bear my life till Albert comes\\nLudolph Erminia Proofs O happy day\\nBring me some mourning weeds, that I may tire\\nMyself, as fits one wailing her own death\\nCut off these curls, and brand this lily hand.\\nAnd throw these jewels from my loathing sight,\\nFetch me a missal, and a string of beads,\\nA cup of bitter d water, and a crust,\\nI will confess, O holy Abbot How\\nWhat is this Auranthe thou fool, dolt, 100\\nWhimpering idiot up up and quell\\nI am safe Coward why am I in fear\\nAlbert he cannot stickle, chew the cud\\nIn such a fine extreme, impossible\\nWho knocks [Goes to the door, listens, and opens it.\\nEnter Albert.\\nAlbert, I have been waiting for you here\\nWith such an aching heart, such swooning throbs\\nOn my poor brain, such cruel cruel sorrow.\\nThat I should claim your pity Art not well\\nAlbert. Yes, lady, well.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0336.jp2"}, "337": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 319\\nAuranthe. You look not so, alas!\\nBut pale, as if you brought some heavy news. m\\nAlbert. You know full well what makes me look\\nso pale.\\nj^urantJie. No Do I Surely I am still to learn\\nSome horror all I know, this present, is\\nI am near hustled to a dangerous gulf,\\nWhich you can save me from, and therefore safe,\\nSo trusting in thy love that should not make\\nThee pale, my Albert.\\nAlbert. It doth make me freeze.\\nAuranthe. Why should it, love\\nAlbert. You should not ask me that,\\nBut make your own heart monitor, and save 120\\nMe the great pain of telling. You must know.\\nAuranthe. Something has vext you, Albert.\\nThere are times\\nWhen simplest things put on a sombre cast\\nA melancholy mood will haunt a man,\\nUntil most easy matters take the shape\\nOf unachievable tasks small rivulets\\nThen seem impassable.\\nAlbert. Do not cheat yourself\\nWith hope that gloss of words, or suppliant action.\\nOr tears, or ravings, or self-threaten d death,\\nCan alter my resolve.\\nAuranthe. You make me tremble 130\\nNot so much at your threats, as at your voice,\\nUntuned, and harsh, and barren of all love.\\nAlbert. You suffocate me! Stop this devil s\\nparley.\\nAnd listen to me know me once for all.\\nAuranthe. I thought I did. Alas I am de-\\nceived.\\nAlbert. No, you are not deceived. You took me\\nfor\\nA man detesting all inhuman crime\\nAnd therefore kept from me your demon s plot", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0337.jp2"}, "338": {"fulltext": "320 DRAMAS act iv\\nAgainst Erminia. Silent Be so still\\nFor ever Speak no more but hear my words, 140\\nThy fate. Your safety I have bought to-day\\nBy blazoning a lie, which in the dawn\\nI 11 expiate with truth.\\nAuranthe. O cruel traitor\\nAlbert. For I would not set eyes upon thy shame\\nI would not see thee dragg d to death by the hair,\\nPenanced, and taunted on a scaffolding\\nTo-night, upon the skirts of the blind wood\\nThat blackens northward of these horrid towers,\\nI wait for you with horses. Choose your fate.\\nFarewell 150\\nAuranthe. Albert, you jest I m sure you must.\\nYou, an ambitious Soldier! I, a Queen,\\nOne who could say, here, rule these Provinces\\nTake tribute from those cities for thyself\\nEmpty these armouries, these treasuries,\\nMuster thy warlike thousands at a nod\\nGo Conquer Italy\\nAlbert. Auranthe, you have made\\nThe whole world chaff to me. Your doom is fix d.\\nAurantJie. Out, villain dastard\\nAlbert. Look there to the door\\nWho is it\\nAuranthe. Conrad, traitor!\\nAlbert. Let him in.\\nEnter Conrad.\\nDo not affect amazement, hypocrite, 160\\nAt seeing me in this chamber.\\nConrad. Auranthe\\nAlbert. Talk not with eyes, but speak your curses\\nout\\nAgainst me, who would sooner crush and grind\\nA brace of toads, than league with them t oppress\\nAn innocent lady, gull an Emperor,\\nMore generous to me than autumn sun\\nTo ripening harvests.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0338.jp2"}, "339": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 321\\nAuranthe. No more insult, sir\\nAlbert. Ay, clutch your scabbard but, for pru-\\ndence sake,\\nDraw not the sword t would make an uproar,\\nDuke,\\nYou would not hear the end of. At nightfall 170\\nYour lady sister, if I guess aright,\\nWill leave this busy castle. You had best\\nTake farewell too of worldly vanities.\\nConrad. Vassal\\nAlbert. To-morrow, when the Emperor sends\\nFor loving Conrad, see you fawn on him.\\nGood even\\nAuranthe. You 11 be seen\\nAlbert. See the coast clear then.\\nAuranthe {as he goes). Remorseless Albert Cruel,\\ncruel wretch {She lets him out.\\nConrad. So, we must lick the dust\\nAuranthe. I follow him.\\nConrad. How Where The plan of your\\nescape\\nAuranthe. He waits\\nFor me with horses by the forest-side, 180\\nNorthward.\\nConrad. Good, good he dies. You go, say you\\nAuranthe. Perforce.\\nConrad. Be speedy, darkness 1 Till that comes,\\nFriends keep you company [Exit.\\nAuranthe. And you And you\\nAnd all men Vanish\\n[Beti7 es to an inner apartment.\\nScene II. An Apart7nent m the Castle\\nEnter Ludolph and a Page.\\nPage. Still very sick, my lord but now I went,\\nKnowing my duty to so good a Prince\\nAnd there her women, in a mournful throng,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0339.jp2"}, "340": {"fulltext": "322 DRAMAS ACT iv\\nStood in the passage whispering if any\\nMov d, t was with careful steps, and hush d as\\ndeath\\nThey bade me stop.\\nLudolph. Good fellow, once again\\nMake soft inquiry pr ythee, be not stay d\\nBy any hindrance, but with gentlest force\\nBreak through her weeping servants, till thou com st\\nE en to her chamber door, and there, fair boy lo\\nIf with thy mother s milk thou hast suck d in\\nAny divine eloquence woo her ears\\nWith plaints for me, more tender than the voice\\nOf dying Echo, echoed.\\nPage. Kindest master\\nTo know thee sad thus, will unloose my tongue\\nIn mournful syllables. Let but my words reach\\nHer ears, and she shall take them coupled with\\nMoans from my heart, and sighs not counterfeit.\\nMay I speed better \\\\^Exit Page.\\nLudolph {solus). Auranthe! My Life\\nLong have I loved thee, yet till now not loved 20\\nRemembering, as I do, hard-hearted times\\nWhen I had heard e en of thy death perhaps,\\nAnd thoughtless, suffer d thee to pass alone\\nInto Elysium now I follow thee\\nA substance or a shadow, wheresoe er\\nThou leadest me, whether thy white feet press.\\nWith pleasant weight, the amorous-aching earth,\\nOr thro the air thou pioneerest me,\\nA shade Yet sadly I predestinate\\nO unbenignest Love, why wilt thou let 30\\nDarkness steal out upon the sleepy world\\nSo wearily as if night s chariot- wheels\\nWere clogg d in some thick cloud O, changeful\\nLove,\\nLet not her steeds with drowsy -footed pace\\nPass the high stars, before sweet embassage\\nComes from the pillow d beauty of that fair", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0340.jp2"}, "341": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 323\\nCompletion of all delicate Nature s wit\\nPout her faint lips anew with rubious health\\nAnd, with thine infant fingers, lift the fringe\\nOf her sick eyelids that those eyes may glow 40\\nWith wooing light upon me, ere the Morn\\nPeers with disrelish, gray, barren, and cold\\nEnter Gersa and Courtiers.\\nOtho calls me his Lion should I blush\\nTo be so tamed so\\nGersa. Do me the courtesy,\\nGentlemen, to pass on.\\n\\\\st Knight. We are your servants.\\n[Exeimt Courtiers.\\nImdolph. It seems then, Sir, you have found out\\nthe man\\nYou would confer with me\\nGersa. If I break not\\nToo much upon your thoughtful mood, I will\\nClaim a brief while your patience.\\nLudolpTi. For what cause\\nSoe er, I shall be honour d.\\nGersa. I not less. so\\nLudolpJi. What may it be No trifle can take\\nplace\\nOf such deliberate prologue, serious haviour,\\nBut, be it what it may, I cannot fail\\nTo listen with no common interest\\nFor though so new your presence is to me,\\nI have a soldier s friendship for your fame.\\nPlease you explain.\\nGersa. As thus for, pardon me,\\nI cannot in plain terms grossly assault\\nA noble nature and would faintly sketch\\nWhat your quick apprehension will fill up 60\\nSo finely I esteem you.\\nLudolph. I attend.\\nGersa. Your generous father, most illustrious\\nOtho,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0341.jp2"}, "342": {"fulltext": "324 DRAMAS act iv\\nSits in the banquet-room among his chiefs\\nHis wine is bitter, for you are not there\\nHis eyes are fix d still on the open doors,\\nAnd ev ry passer in he frowns upon,\\nSeeing no Ludolph comes.\\nLudolph. I do neglect\\nGersa. And for your absence may I guess the\\ncause\\nLudolph. Stay there No guess More\\nprincely you must be\\nThan to make guesses at me. T is enough. 70\\nI m sorry I can hear no more.\\nOersa. And I\\nAs grieved to force it on you so abrupt\\nYet, one day, you must know a grief, whose sting\\nWill sharpen more the longer t is conceal d.\\nlALdolpJi. Say it at once. Sir dead dead is\\nshe dead\\nOersa. Mine is a cruel task she is not dead.\\nAnd would, for your ,sake, she were innocent\\nLudolph. Thou liest Thou amazest me beyond\\nAll scope of thought, convulsest my heart s blood\\nTo deadly churning Gersa, you are young, 80\\nAs I am let me observe you, face to face\\nNot gray-brow d like the poisonous Ethelbert,\\nNo rheumed eyes, no furrowing of age,\\nNo wrinkles, where all vices nestle in\\nLike crannied vermin, no but fresh and young,\\nAnd hopeful featured. Ha by Heaven you weep\\nTears, human tears Do you repent you then\\nOf a cursed torturer s office Why shouldst join\\nTell me, the league of devils Confess confess\\nThe Lie\\nOersa. Lie but begone all ceremonious points\\nOf honour battailous I could not turn 91\\nMy wrath against thee for the orbed world.\\nLvdolph. Your wrath, weak boy? Tremble at\\nmine, unless", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0342.jp2"}, "343": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 325\\nRetraction follow close upon the heels\\nOf that late stounding insult Why has my sword\\nNot done already a sheer judgment on thee\\nDespair, or eat thy words Why, thou wast nigh\\nWhimpering away my reason Hark ye. Sir,\\nIt is no secret, that Erminia,\\nErminia, Sir, was hidden in your tent 100\\nbless d asylum Comfortable home\\nBegone I pity thee thou art a gull,\\nErminia s last new puppet\\nOersa. Furious fire\\nThou mak st me boil as hot as thou canst flame\\nAnd in thy teeth I give thee back the lie\\nThou liest Thou, Auranthe s fool A wittol\\nLudolph. Look look at this bright sword\\nThere is no part of it, to the very hilt,\\nBut shall indulge itself about thine heart\\nDraw but remember thou must cower thy plumes,\\nAs yesterday the Arab made thee stoop m\\nOersa. Patience Not here I would not spill\\nthy blood\\nHere, underneath this roof where Otho breathes,\\nThy father, almost mine.\\nI/udolph. O faltering coward\\nBe-enter Page.\\nStay, stay here is one I have half a word with.\\nWell What ails thee, child\\nPage. My lord\\nLudolph. Good fellow\\nPage. They are fled\\nLudolph. They Who\\nPage. When anxiously\\n1 hasten d back, your grieving messenger,\\nI found the stairs all dark, the lamps extinct,\\nAnd not a foot or whisper to be heard. 120\\nI thought her dead, and on the lowest step\\nSat listening when presently came by", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0343.jp2"}, "344": {"fulltext": "326 DRAMAS act v\\nTwo muffled up, one sighing heavily,\\nThe other cursing low, whose voice I knew\\nFor the Duke Conrad s. Close I follow d them\\nThro the dark ways they chose to the open air\\nAnd, as I follow d, heard my lady speak.\\nLudolph. Thy life answers the truth\\nPage. The chamber s empty\\nLudolph. As I will be of mercy So, at last.\\nThis nail is in my temples\\nGersa. Be calm in this. 130\\nLudolph. I am.\\nGersa. And Albert too has disappear d\\nEre I met you, I sought him everywhere\\nYou would not hearken.\\nLudolph. Which way went they, boy\\nGersa. I 11 hunt with you.\\nLudolph. No, no, no. My senses are\\nStill whole. I have survived. My arm is strong\\nMy appetite sharp for revenge I 11 no sharer\\nIn my feast my injury is all my own,\\nAnd so is my revenge, my lawful chattels\\nTerrier, ferret them out Burn burn the witch\\nTrace me their footsteps Away [^Exeunt.\\nACT V\\nScene I. A part of the Forest\\nEnter Conrad and Auranthe.\\nAuranthe. Go no further; not a step more.\\nThou art\\nA master-plague in the midst of miseries.\\nGo, I fear thee I tremble every limb.\\nWho never shook before. There s moody death\\nIn thy resolved looks Yes, I could kneel\\nTo pray thee far away Conrad, go go\\nThere yonder underneath the boughs I see\\nOur horses", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0344.jp2"}, "345": {"fulltext": "SCENE I OTHO THE GREAT 327\\nConrad. Ay, and the man.\\nAuranthe. Yes, he is there.\\nGo, go no blood no blood go, gentle Conrad!\\nConrad. Farewell\\nAuranthe. Farewell For this Heaven pardon\\nyou ]^Exit Auranthe.\\nConrad. If he survive one hour, then may I die\\nIn unimagined tortures, or breathe through 12\\nA long life in the foulest sink o the world\\nHe dies T is well she do not advertise\\nThe caitiff of the cold steel at his back.\\nEnter Ludolph and Page.\\nLadolpli. Miss d the way, boy Say not that on\\nyour peril\\nPage. Indeed, indeed I cannot trace them further.\\nLudolph. Must I stop here Here solitary die\\nStifled beneath the thick oppressive shade\\nOf these dull boughs, this oven of dark thick-\\nets, 20\\nSilent, without revenge pshaw bitter\\nend,\\nA bitter death a suffocating death,\\nA gnawing silent deadly, quiet death\\nEscaped fled vanish d melted into air\\nShe s gone I cannot clutch her no revenge\\nA muffled death, ensnared in horrid silence!\\nSuck d to my grave amid a dreamy calm 1\\nO, where is that illustrious noise of war,\\nTo smother up this sound of labouring breath,\\nThis rustle of the trees\\n[Auranthe shrieks at a distance.\\nPage. My lord, a noise 30\\nThis way hark\\nLudolph. Yes, yes A hope A music\\nA glorious clamour How I live again\\n{Exeunt.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0345.jp2"}, "346": {"fulltext": "328 DRAMAS ACT v\\nScene II. Another part of the Forest\\nEnter Albert {wounded).\\nAlbert. O for enough life to support me on\\nTo Otho s feet\\nEnter Ludolph.\\nLudolph. Thrice villanous, stay there\\nTell me where that detested woman is,\\nOr this is through thee\\nAlbert. My good Prince, with me\\nThe sword has done its worst not without worst\\nDone to another, Conrad has it home\\nI see you know it all\\nLudolph. Where is his sister\\nEnter Auranthe.\\nAuranthe. Albert\\nLudolph. Ha There there He is the para-\\nmour\\nThere hug him dying O, thou innocence,\\nShrine him and comfort him at his last gasp. lo\\nKiss down his eyelids Was he not thy love\\nWilt thou forsake him at his latest hour\\nKeep fearful and aloof from his last gaze\\nHis most uneasy moments, when cold death\\nStands with the door ajar to let him in\\nAlbert. O that that door with hollow slam would\\nclose\\nUpon me sudden, for I cannot meet.\\nIn all the unknown chambers of the dead,\\nSuch horrors\\nLudolph. Auranthe what can he mean\\nWhat horrors Is it not a joyous time 20\\nAm I not married to a paragon\\nOf personal beauty and untainted soul\\nA blushing fair-eyed purity A sylph,\\nWhose snowy timid hand has never sinn d", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0346.jp2"}, "347": {"fulltext": "SCENE II OTHO THE GREAT 329\\nBeyond a flower pluck d, white as itself\\nAlbert, you do insult my bride your mistress\\nTo talk of horrors on our wedding-night\\nAlbert. Alas poor Prince, I would you knew my\\nheart\\nT is not so guilty\\nLudolph. Hear, he pleads not guilty\\nYou are not or, if so, what matters it\\nYou have escaped me, free as the dusk air, 30\\nHid in the forest, safe from my revenge\\nI cannot catch you You should laugh at me,\\nPoor cheated Ludolph Make the forest hiss\\nWith j eers at me You tremble faint at once.\\nYou will come to again. O cockatrice,\\nI have you Whither wander those fair eyes\\nTo entice the Devil to your help, that he\\nMay change you to a spider, so to crawl\\nInto some cranny to escape my wrath 40\\nAlbert. Sometimes the counsel of a dying man\\nDoth operate quietly when his breath is gone\\nDisjoin those hands part part do not destroy\\nEacb other forget her Our miseries\\nAre equal shared, and mercy is\\nLudolph. A boQji\\nWhen one can compass it. Auranthe, try\\nYour oratory your breath is not so hitch d.\\nAy, stare for help [Albert groans and dies.\\nThere goes a spotted soul\\nHowling in vain along the hollow night 49\\nHear him He calls you sweet Auranthe, come\\nAuranthe. Kill me\\nLudolph. No What, upon our marriage-night\\nThe earth would shudder at so foul a deed\\nA fair bride A sweet bride An innocent bride\\nNo we must revel it, as t is in use\\nIn times of delicate brilliant ceremony\\nCome, let me lead you to our halls again\\nNay, linger not make no resistance, sweet", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0347.jp2"}, "348": {"fulltext": "330\\nDRAMAS ACT V\\nWill you Ah, wretch, th(3u canst not, for I have\\nThe strength of twenty lions gainst a lamb\\nNow one adieu for Albert Come away 60\\nScene III. An inner Court in the Castle\\nEnter Sigifred, Gonfred, and Theodore, meeting.\\n\\\\st Knight. Was ever such a night\\nSigifred. What horrors more\\nThings unbelieved one hour, so strange they are,\\nThe next hour stamps with credit.\\n1st Knight. Your last news\\nGonfred. After the Page s story of the death\\nOf Albert and Duke Conrad\\nSigifred. And the return\\nOf Ludolph with the Princess.\\nOonfred. No more, save\\nPrince Gersa s freeing Abbot Ethelbert,\\nAnd the sweet lady, fair Erminia,\\nFrom prison.\\n\\\\st Knight. Where are they now? Hast yet\\nheard\\nGonfred.* With the sad Emperor they are closeted\\nI saw the three pass slowly up the stairs,\\nThe lady weeping, the old Abbot cowl d.\\nSigifred. What next?\\n1st Knight. I ache to think on t.\\nGonfred. T is with fate.\\n1st Knight. One while these proud towers are\\nhush d as death.\\nGonfred. The next our poor Prince fills the\\narched rooms\\nWith ghastly ravings.\\nSigifred. I do fear his brain.\\nGonfred. I will see more. Bear you so stout a\\nheart [^Exeunt into the Castle.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0348.jp2"}, "349": {"fulltext": "SCENE IV OTHO THE GREAT 331\\nScene IV. A Cabinet, opening towards a terrace\\nOtho, Erminia, Ethelbert, and a Physician,\\ndiscovered.\\nOtho. O, my poor boy My son My son My\\nLudolph\\nHave ye no comfort for me, ye physicians\\nOf the weak body and soul\\nEthelbert. T is not in medicine,\\nEither of heaven or earth, to cure, unless\\nFit time be chosen to administer.\\nOtho. A kind forbearance, holy Abbot. Come,\\nErminia here, sit by me, gentle girl\\nGive me thy hand hast thou forgiven me\\nErminia. Would I were with the saints to pray\\nfor you\\nOtho. Why will ye keep me from my darling\\nchild 10\\nPhysician. Forgive me, but he must not see thy\\nface.\\nOtho. Is then a father s countenance a Gorgon\\nHath it not comfort in it Would it not\\nConsole my poor boy, cheer him, help his spir-\\nits\\nLet me embrace him let me speak to him\\nI will Who hinders me Who s Emperor\\nPhysician. You may not. Sire; twould over-\\nwhelm him quite.\\nHe is so full of grief and passionate wrath\\nToo heavy a sigh would kill him, or do worse.\\nHe must be saved by fine contrivances 20\\nAnd, most especially, we must keep clear\\nOut of his sight a father whom he loves\\nHis heart is full, it can contain no more,\\nAnd do its ruddy office.\\nEthelbert. Sage advice\\nWe must endeavour how to ease and slacken", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0349.jp2"}, "350": {"fulltext": "332 DRAMAS act v\\nThe tight-wound energies of his despair,\\nNot make them tenser.\\nOtho. Enough I hear, I hear\\nYet you were about to advise more, I listen.\\nEt?ielbert. This learned doctor will agree with me,\\nThat not in the smallest point should he be thwarted,\\nOr gainsaid by one word his very motions, 31\\nNods, becks, and hints, should be obey d with care.\\nEven on the moment so his troubled mind\\nMay cure itself.\\nPhysician. There are no other means.\\nOtho. Open the door let s hear if all is quiet.\\nPhysician. Beseech you, Sire, forbear.\\nErminia. Do, do.\\nOtho. I command\\nOpen it straight hush quiet my lost boy\\nMy miserable child\\nLudolph {indistinctly without). Fill, fill my goblet,\\nhere s a health\\nErminia. O, close the door\\nOtho. Let, let me hear his voice this cannot\\nlast:\\nAnd fain would I catch up his dying words, 40\\nThough my own knell they be This cannot last\\nO let me catch his voice for lo I hear\\nThis silence whisper me that he is dead\\nIt is so Gersa\\nEnter Gersa.\\nPhysician. Say, how fares the prince\\nGersa. More calm his features are less wild and\\nflush d\\nOnce he complained of weariness.\\nPhysician. Indeed\\nT is good, t is good let him but fall asleep,\\nThat saves him.\\nOtho. Gersa, watch him like a child\\nWard him from harm, and bring me better news!", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0350.jp2"}, "351": {"fulltext": "SCENE V OTHO THE GREAT 333\\nPliydcian. Humour him to the height. I fear to\\ngo 50\\nFor should he catch a glimpse of my dull garb,\\nIt might affright him, fill him with suspicion\\nThat we believe him sick, which must not be.\\nGersa. I will invent what soothing means I can.\\n{Exit Gersa.\\nPhysician. This should cheer up your highness\\nweariness\\nIs a good symptom, and most favourable\\nIt gives me pleasant hopes. Please you, walk forth\\nUpon the terrace the refreshing air\\nWill blow one half of your sad doubts away.\\n[Exeunt.\\nScene V. A Banqueting Hall., brilliantly illuminated,\\nand set forth with all costly magjtijicence, with sup-\\nper-tables laden with services of gold attd silver. A\\ndoor in the back scene, guarded by two Soldiers.\\nLords, Ladies, Knights, Gentlemen, etc., whispering\\nsadly, and ranging themselves part entering and\\npart discovered.\\n\\\\st Knight. Grievously are we tantalized, one and\\nall;\\nSway d here and there, commanded to and fro,\\nAs though we were the shadows of a sleep.\\nAnd link d to a dreaming fancy. What do we\\nhere?\\nQonfred. I am no seer you know we must obey\\nThe prince from A to Z, though it should be\\nTo set the place in flames. I pray, hast heard\\nWhere the most wicked Princess is\\n\\\\8t Knight. There, sir,\\nIn the next room have you remark d those two\\nStout soldiers posted at the door\\nOonfred. For what 10\\n{They whisper.\\n\\\\st Lady. How ghast a train", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0351.jp2"}, "352": {"fulltext": "334 DRAMAS act v\\n2d Lady. Sure this should be some splendid\\nburial,\\n\\\\st Lady. What fearful whispering See, see,\\nGersa there\\nEnter Gersa.\\nOersa. Put on your brightest looks smile if you\\ncan\\nBehave as all were happy keep your eyes\\nFrom the least watch upon him if he speaks\\nTo any one, answer collectedly,\\nWithout surprise, his questions, howe er strange.\\nDo this to the utmost though, alas with me\\nThe remedy grows hopeless Here he comes, 20\\nObserve what I have said show no surprise.\\nEnter Ludolph, followed by Sigipred and Page.\\nLudolph. A splendid company! rare beauties\\nhere\\nI should have Orphean lips, and Plato s fancy,\\nAmphion s utterance, toned with his lyre,\\nOr the deep key of Jove s sonorous mouth.\\nTo give fit salutation. Methought I heard,\\nAs I came in, some whispers what of that\\nT is natural men should whisper at the kiss\\nOf Psyche given by Love, there was a buzz\\nAmong the gods and silence is as natural. 30\\nThese draperies are fine, and, being a mortal,\\nI should desire no better yet, in truth,\\nThere must be some superior costliness,\\nSome wider-domed high magnificence\\nI would have, as a mortal I may not,\\nHangings of heaven s clouds, purple and gold,\\nSlung from the spheres gauzes of silver mist,\\nLoop d up with cords of twisted wreathed light,\\nAnd tassel d round with weeping meteors\\nThese pendent lamps and chandeliers are bright 40\\nAs earthly fires from dull dross can be cleansed\\nYet could my eyes drink up intenser beams", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0352.jp2"}, "353": {"fulltext": "SCENE V OTHO THE GREAT 335\\nUndazzled this is darkness when I close\\nThese lids, I see far fiercer brilliances,\\nSkies full of splendid moons, and shooting stars,\\nAnd spouting exhalations, diamond fires.\\nAnd panting fountains quivering with deep glows\\nYes this is dark is it not dark\\nSigifred. My Lord,\\nT is late the lights of festival are ever\\nQuench d in the morn. so\\nLudolph. T is not to-morrow then\\nSigifred. T is early dawn.\\nOersa. Indeed full time we slept\\nSay you so, Prince\\nLudolph. I say I quarrel d with you\\nWe did not tilt each other that s a blessing,\\nGood gods no innocent blood upon my head\\nSigifred. Retire, Gersa\\nLudolph. There should be three more here\\nFor two of them, they stay away perhaps,\\nBeing gloomy-minded, haters of fair revels,\\nThey know their own thoughts best.\\nAs for the third.\\nDeep blue eyes, semi-shaded in white lids,\\nFinish d with lashes fine for more soft shade, 60\\nCompleted by her twin-arch d ebon-brows\\nWhite temples, of exactest elegance,\\nOf even mould, felicitous and smooth\\nCheeks fashion d tenderly on either side.\\nSo perfect, so divine, that our poor eyes\\nAre dazzled with the sweet proportioning.\\nAnd wonder that t is so the magic chance\\nHer nostrils, small, fragrant, fairy-delicate\\nHer lips I swear no human bones e er wore\\nSo taking a disguise you shall behold her 70\\nWe 11 have her presently ay, you shall see her,\\nAnd wonder at her, friends, she is so fair\\nShe is the world s chief jewel, and, by heaven,\\nShe s mine by right of marriage she is mine", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0353.jp2"}, "354": {"fulltext": "336 DRAMAS act v\\nPatience, good people, in fit time I send\\nA summoner, she will obey my call,\\nBeing a wife most mild and dutiful.\\nFirst I would hear what music is prepared\\nTo herald and receive her let me hear\\nSigifred, Bid the musicians soothe him tenderly. 80\\n\\\\^A soft strain of Music.\\nLudolph. Ye have none better? No, I am con-\\ntent\\nT is a rich sobbing melody, with reliefs\\nFull and majestic it is well enough.\\nAnd will be sweeter, when you see her pace\\nSweeping into this presence, glistened o er\\nWith emptied caskets, and her train upheld\\nBy ladies, habited in robes of lawn.\\nSprinkled with golden crescents, others bright\\nIn silks, with spangles shower d, and bow d to\\nBy Duchesses and pearled Margravines 90\\nSad, that the fairest creature of the earth\\nI pray yovi mind me not t is sad, I say,\\nThat the extremest beauty of the world\\nShould so entrench herself away from me,\\nBehind a barrier of engender d guilt\\n2d Lady. Ah what a moan\\n1st Knight. Most piteous indeed\\nLudolph. She shall be brought before this com-\\npany.\\nAnd then then\\n\\\\st Lady. He muses.\\nOersa. O, Fortune, where will this end\\nSigifred. I guess his purpose Indeed he must\\nnot have\\nThat pestilence brought in, that cannot be, 100\\nThere we must stop him.\\nOersa. I am lost Hush, hush\\nHe is about to rave again.\\nLudolph. A barrier of guilt I was the fool I\\nShe was the cheater Who s the cheater now,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0354.jp2"}, "355": {"fulltext": "SCENE V OTHO THE GREAT 337\\nAnd who the fool The entrapp d, the caged, fool.\\nThe bird-limed raven She shall croak to death\\nSecure Methinks I have her in my fist,\\nTo crush her with my heel Wait, wait I marvel\\nMy father keeps away. Good friend ah Sigi-\\nfred!\\nDo bring him to me, and Erminia no\\nI fain would see before I sleep and Ethelbert,\\nThat he may bless me, as I know he will,\\nThough I have cursed him.\\nSigifred. Bather suffer me\\nTo lead you to them.\\nLudolph. No, excuse me, no\\nThe day is not quite done. Go, bring them hither,\\n\\\\^Exit Sigifred.\\nCertes, a father s smile should, like sun light,\\nSlant on my sheafed harvest of ripe bliss,\\nBesides, I thirst to pledge my lovely bride\\nIn a deep goblet let me see what wine\\nThe strong Iberian juice, or mellow Greek 120\\nOr pale Calabrian Or the Tuscan grape\\nOr of old Etna s pulpy wine-presses,\\nBlack stain d with the fat vintage, as it were\\nThe purple slaughter-house, where Bacchus self\\nPrick d his own swollen veins Where is my page?\\nPage. Here, here\\nLudolph. Be ready to obey me anon thou shalt\\nBear a soft message for me for the hour\\nDraws near when I must make a winding up\\nOf bridal mysteries a fine-spun vengeance\\nCarve it on my tomb, that, when I rest beneath, 130\\nMen shall confess this Prince was gull d and cheated,\\nBut from the ashes of disgrace he rose\\nMore than a fiery phoenix, and did burn\\nHis ignominy up in purging fires\\nDid I not send. Sir, but a moment past,\\nFor my Father\\nOersa. You did.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0355.jp2"}, "356": {"fulltext": "338 DRAMAS act v\\nlAidolph. Perhaps t would be\\nMuch better he came not.\\nOersa. He enters now\\nEnter Otho, Erminia, Ethelbert, Sigipred, and\\nPhysician.\\nLudolpli. O thou good man, against whose sacred\\nhead\\nI was a mad conspirator, chiefly too,\\nFor the sake of my fair newly wedded wife, 140\\nNow to be punish d, do not look so sad\\nThose charitable eyes will thaw my heart,\\nThose tears will wash away a just resolve,\\nA verdict ten times sworn Awake awake\\nPut on a judge s brow, and use a tongue\\nMade iron-stern by habit Thou shalt see\\nA deed to be applauded, scribed in gold\\nJoin a loud voice to mine, and so denounce\\nWhat I alone will execute.\\nOtho. Dear son.\\nWhat is it By your father s love, I sue\\nThat it be nothing merciless 150\\nLudolph. To that demon\\nNot so No She is in temple-stall\\nBeing garnish d for the sacrifice, and I,\\nThe Priest of Justice, will immolate her\\nUpon the altar of wrath. She stings me through\\nEven as the worm doth feed upon the nut,\\nSo she, a scorpion, preys upon my brain\\nI feel her gnawing here Let her but vanish.\\nThen, father, I will lead your legions forth,\\nCompact in steeled squares, and speared files, 160\\nAnd bid our trumpets speak a fell rebuke\\nTo nations drows d in peace\\nOtho. To-morrow, son,\\nBe your word law forget to-day\\niMdolph. I will", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0356.jp2"}, "357": {"fulltext": "SCENE V OTHO THE GREAT 339\\nWhen I have finish d it. Now, now, I m pight,\\nTight-footed for the deed\\nErminia. Alas Alas\\nLudolph. What angel s voice is that Erminia 1\\nAh gentlest creature, whose sweet innocence\\nWas almost murder d I am penitent\\nWilt thou forgive me And thou, holy man.\\nGood Ethelbert, shall I die in peace with you 170\\nErminia, Die, my lord\\nLudolph. I feel it possible.\\nOtJio. Physician\\nPhysician. I fear me he is past my skill.\\nOtho. Not so\\nLudolph. I see it I see it I have been wander-\\ning\\nHalf mad not right here I forget my pur-\\npose.\\nBestir bestir Auranthe Ha ha ha\\nYoungster Page go bid them drag her to me\\nObey This shall finish it [^Draws a dagger.\\nOtho. Oh, my son my son\\nSigifred. This must not be stop there\\nLudolph. Am I obey d\\nA little talk with her no harm haste haste\\n[Exit Page.\\nSet her before me never fear I can strike. 180\\nSeveral Voices. My Lord My Lord\\nGersa. Good Prince 1\\nLudolph. Why do ye trouble me out out\\naway\\nThere she is take that and that no, no\\nThat s not well done. Where is she\\nThe doors open. Enter Page. Several women are\\nseen grouped ahout Auranthe in the inner-room.\\nPage. Alas My Lord, my Lord they cannot\\nmove her\\nHer arms are stiff, her fingers clench d and cold I\\nL", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0357.jp2"}, "358": {"fulltext": "340 DRAMAS act i\\nLudolph. She s dead 1\\n[Staggers and falls into their arms.\\nEthelhert. Take away the dagger.\\nGersa. Softly so 1\\nOtTw. Thank God for that\\nSigifred. It could not harm him now.\\nOersa. No brief be his anguish\\niMdolpJi. She s gone! lam content Nobles,\\ngood night 190\\nWe are all weary faint set ope the doors\\nI will to bed To-morrow [Dies.\\nThe Curtain falls.\\nKING STEPHEN\\nA DRAMATIC FRAGMENT\\nACT I\\nScene I. Field of Battle\\nAlarum. Enter King Stephen, Knights^ and\\nSoldiers.\\nien. If shame can on a soldier s vein-swoll n\\nfront\\nSpread deeper crimson than the battle s toil.\\nBlush in your casing helmets for see, see\\nYonder my chivalry, my pride of war,\\nWrench d with an iron hand from firm array,\\nAre routed loose about the plashy meads,\\nOf honour forfeit. O, that my known voice\\nCould reach your dastard ears, and fright you more\\nFly, cowards, fly Glocester is at your backs\\nThrow your slack bridles o er the flurried manes,\\nPly well the rowell with faint trembling heels, 10\\nScampering to death at last\\n1st Knight. The enemy\\nBears his flaunt standard close upon their rear.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0358.jp2"}, "359": {"fulltext": "SCENE II KING STEPHEN 341\\n2d Knight. Sure of a bloody prey, seeing the fens\\nWill swamp them girth-deep.\\nStephen. Over head and ears,\\nNo matter T is a gallant enemy\\nHow like a comet he goes streaming on.\\nBut we must plague him in the flank, hey, friends?\\nWe are well breathed, follow\\nEnter Earl Baldwin and Soldiers, as defeated.\\nStephen. De Red vers\\nWhat is the monstrous bugbear that can fright 20\\nBaldwin\\nBaldwin. No scare-crow, but the fortunate star\\nOf boisterous Chester, whose fell truncheon now\\nPoints level to the goal of victory.\\nThis way he comes, and if you would maintain\\nYour person unaffronted by vile odds.\\nTake horse, my Lord.\\nStephen. And which way spur for life\\nNow I thank Heaven I am in the toils,\\nThat soldiers may bear witness how my arm\\nCan burst the meshes. Not the eagle more\\nLoves to beat up against a tyrannous blast, 30\\nThan I to meet the torrent of my foes.\\nThis is a brag, be t so, but if I fall,\\nCarve it upon my scutcheon d sepulchre.\\nOn, fellow soldiers Earl of Redvers, back\\nNot twenty Earls of Chester shall brow-beat\\nThe diadem. [Exeunt. Alarum.\\nScene II. Another part of the Field\\nTrumpets sounding a Victory. Enter Glocester,\\nKnights, and Forces.\\nGlocester. Now may we lift our bruised visors up,\\nAnd take the flattering freshness of the air,\\nWhile the wide din of battle dies away\\nInto times past, yet to be echoed sure\\nIn the silent pages of our chroniclers.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0359.jp2"}, "360": {"fulltext": "342 DRAMAS act i\\nIst Knight. Will Stephen s death be mark d there,\\nmy good Lord,\\nOr that we gave him lodging in yon towers\\nGlocester. Fain would I know the great usurper s\\nfate.\\nEnter two Captains severally.\\n1st Captain. My Lord\\n2d Captain. Most noble Earl\\n1st Captain. The King\\n2d Captain. The Empress greets\\nOlocester. What of the King\\n1st Captain. He sole and lone maintains\\nA hopeless bustle mid our swarming arms, 12\\nAnd with a nimble savageness attacks,\\nEscapes, makes fiercer onset, then anew\\nEludes death, giving death to most that dare\\nTrespass within the circuit of his sword\\nHe must by this have fallen. Baldwin is taken\\nAnd for the Duke of Bretagne, like a stag\\nHe flies, for the Welsh beagles to hunt down. 19\\nGod save the Empress\\nOlocester. Now our dreaded Queen\\nWhat message from her Highness\\nM Captain. Royal Maud\\nFrom the throng d towers of Lincoln hath look d\\ndown,\\nLike Pallas from the walls of Ilion,\\nAnd seen her enemies havock d at her feet.\\nShe greets most noble Glocester from her heart,\\nEntreating him, his captains, and brave knights,\\nTo grace a banquet. The high city gates\\nAre envious which shall see your triumph pass\\nThe streets are full of music.\\nEnter 2d Knight.\\nOlocester. Whence come you\\n2d Knight. From Stephen, my good Prince,\\nStephen Stephen 30", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0360.jp2"}, "361": {"fulltext": "SCENE III KING STEPHEN 343\\nGlocester. Why do you make such echoing of his\\nname\\n2d Knight. Because I think, my lord, he is no\\nman,\\nBut a fierce demon, nointed safe from wounds,\\nAnd misbaptized with a Christian name.\\nGlocester. A mighty soldier Does he still hold\\nout?\\nM Knight. He shames our victory. His valour\\nstill\\nKeeps elbow-room amid our eager swords.\\nAnd holds our bladed falchions all aloof\\nHis gleaming battle-axe being slaughter- sick,\\nSmote on the morion of a Flemish knight, 40\\nBroke short in his hand upon the which he flung\\nThe heft away with such a vengeful force,\\nIt paunch d the Earl of Chester s horse, who then\\nSpleen-hearted came in full career at him.\\nGlocester. Did no one take him at a vantage then?\\n2d Knight. Three then with tiger leap upon him\\nflew.\\nWhom with his sword swift-drawn and nimbly held.\\nHe stung away again, and stood to breathe.\\nSmiling. Anon upon him rush d once more\\nA throng of foes, and in this renew d strife, 50\\nMy sword met his and snapp d off at the hilt.\\nGlocester. Come, lead me to this man and let us\\nmove\\nIn silence, not insulting his sad doom\\nWith clamorous trumpets. To the Empress bear\\nMy salutation as befits the time.\\n[Exeunt Glocester and Forces.\\nScene III. T/ie Field of Battle\\nEnter Stephen unarmed.\\nStephen. Another sword And what if I could\\nseize", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0361.jp2"}, "362": {"fulltext": "344 DRAMAS act i\\nOne from Bellona s gleaming armoury,\\nOr choose the fairest of her sheafed spears\\nWhere are my enemies Here, close at hand,\\nHere come the testy brood. O, for a sword 1\\nI m faint a biting sword A noble sword\\nA hedge-stake or a ponderous stone to hurl\\nWith brawny vengeance, like the labourer Cain.\\nCome on Farewell my kingdom, and all hail\\nThou superb, plumed, and helmeted renown, lo\\nAll hail I would not truck this brilliant day\\nTo rule in Pylos with a Nestor s beard\\nCome on\\nEnter De Kaims and Knights, etc.\\nBe Kaims. Is t madness or a hunger after death\\nThat makes thee thus unarm d throw taunts at\\nus V\\nYield, Stephen, or my sword s point dips in\\nThe gloomy current of a traitor s heart.\\nStephen. Do it, De Kaims, I will not budge an\\ninch.\\nDe Kaims. Yes, of thy madness thou shalt take\\nthe meed.\\nStephen. Darest thou\\nDe Kaims. How dare, against a man disarm d\\nStephen. What weapons has the lion but himself\\nCome not near me, De Kaims, for by the price 21\\nOf all the glory I have won this day,\\nBeing a king, I will not yield alive\\nTo any but the second man of the realm,\\nRobert of Glocester.\\nDe Kaims. Thou shalt vail to me.\\nStephen. Shall I, when I have sworn against it,\\nsir?\\nThou think st it brave to take a breathing king,\\nThat, on a court-day bow d to haughty Maud,\\nThe awed presence-chamber may be bold\\nTo whisper, there s the man who took alive 30", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0362.jp2"}, "363": {"fulltext": "SCENE IV KING STEPHEN 345\\nStephen me prisoner. Certes, De Kaims,\\nThe ambition is a noble one.\\nDe Kaims. T is true,\\nAnd, Stephen, I must compass it.\\nStephen. No, no,\\nDo not tempt me to throttle you on the gorge.\\nOr with my gauntlet crush your hollow breast.\\nJust when your knighthood is grown ripe and\\nfull\\nFor lordship.\\nA Soldier. Is an honest yeoman s spear\\nOf no use at a need Take that.\\nSteplien. Ah, dastard\\nDe Kaims. What, you are vulnerable my pris-\\noner\\nStephen. No, not yet. I disclaim it, and demand\\nDeath as a sovereign right unto a king 41\\nWho sdains to yield to any but his peer.\\nIf not in title, yet in noble deeds.\\nThe Earl of Glocester. Stab to the hilt, De Kaims,\\nFor I will never by mean hands be led\\nFrom this so famous field. Do you hear Be\\nquick\\nTrumpets. Enter the Earl of Chester, and\\nKnights.\\nScene IV. A Presence Chamber. Queen Maud in\\na Chair of State, the Earls ^Glocester and Ches-\\nter, Lords, Attendants\\nMaud. Glocester, no more: I will behold that\\nBoulogne\\nSet him before me. Not for the poor sake\\nOf regal pomp and a vain-glorious hour,\\nAs thou with wary speech, yet near enough,\\nHast hinted.\\nGlocester. Faithful counsel have I given\\nIf wary, for your Highness benefit.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0363.jp2"}, "364": {"fulltext": "346 DRAMAS act i\\nMaud. The heavens forbid that I should not think\\nso,\\nFor by thy valour have I won this realm,\\nWhich by thy wisdom I will ever keep.\\nTo sage advisers let me ever bend lo\\nA meek attentive ear, so that they treat\\nOf the wide kingdom s rule and government,\\nNot trenching on our actions personal.\\nAdvised, not school d, I would be and henceforth\\nSpoken to in clear, plain, and open terms,\\nNot side-ways sermon d at.\\nGlocester. Then in plain terms,\\nOnce more for the fallen king\\nMaud. Your pardon. Brother,\\nI would no more of that for, as I said,\\nTis not for worldly pomp I wish to see\\nThe rebel, but as dooming judge to give 20\\nA sentence something worthy of his guilt.\\nGlocester. If t must be so, I 11 bring him to your\\npresence. \\\\^Exit Glocester.\\nMaud. A meaner summoner might do as well\\nMy Lord of Chester, is t true what I hear\\nOf Stephen of Boulogne, our prisoner,\\nThat he, as a fit penance for his crimes,\\nEats wholesome, sweet, and palatable food\\nOff Glocester s golden dishes drinks pure wine.\\nLodges soft\\nChester. More than that, my gracious Queen,\\nHas anger d me. The noble Earl, methinks, 30\\nFull soldier as he is, and without peer\\nIn counsel, dreams too much among his books.\\nIt may read well, but sure tis out of date\\nTo play the Alexander with Darius.\\nMaud. Truth I think so. By Heavens it shall\\nnot last\\nChester. It would amaze your Highness now to\\nmark", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0364.jp2"}, "365": {"fulltext": "SCENE IV KING STEPHEN 347\\nHow Glocester overstrains his courtesy\\nTo that crime-loving rebel, that Boulogne\\n3faud. That ingrate\\nChester. For whose vast ingratitude\\nTo our late sovereign lord, your noble sire, 40\\nThe generous Earl condoles in his mishaps,\\nAnd with a sort of lackeying friendliness,\\nTalks off the mighty frowning from his brow\\nWoos him to hold a duet in a smile,\\nOr, if it please him, play an hour at chess\\nMaud. A perjured slave!\\nChester. And for his perjury,\\nGlocester has fit rewards nay, I believe,\\nHe sets his bustling household s wits at work\\nFor flatteries to ease this Stephen s hours,\\nAnd make a heaven of his purgatory 50\\nAdorning bondage with the pleasant gloss\\nOf feasts and music, and all idle shows\\nOf indoor pageantry while siren whispers,\\nPredestined for his ear, scape as half-check d\\nFrom lips the courtliest and the rubiest,\\nOf all the realm, admiring of his deeds.\\nMaud. A frost upon his summer\\nChester. A queen s nod\\nCan make his June December. Here he comes.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0365.jp2"}, "366": {"fulltext": "348 THE EVE OF ST. MARK\\nTHE EVE OF ST. MARK\\nA FRAGMENT\\nUpon a Sabbath-day it fell\\nTwice holy was the Sabbath-bell,\\nThat call d the folk to evening prayer\\nThe city streets were clean and fair\\nFrom wholesome drench of April rains\\nAnd, on the western window panes,\\nThe chilly sunset faintly told\\nOf unmatured green valleys cold.\\nOf the green thorny bloomless hedge,\\nOf rivers new with spring-tide sedge,\\nOf primroses by shelter d rills.\\nAnd daisies on the aguish hills.\\nTwice holy was the Sabbath-bell\\nThe silent streets were crowded well\\nWith staid and pious companies.\\nWarm from their fireside orat ries\\nAnd moving, with demurest air.\\nTo even-song, and vesper prayer.\\nEach arched porch, and entry low,\\nWas fill d with patient folk and slow.\\nWith whispers hush, and shuffling feet,\\nWhile play d the organ loud and sweet.\\nThe bells had ceased, the prayers begun,\\nAnd Bertha had not yet half done\\nA curious volume, patch d and torn,\\nThat all day long, from earliest morn.\\nHad taken captive her two eyes,\\nAmong its golden broideries\\nPerplex d her with a thousand things,\\nThe stars of Heaven, and angels wings,\\nMartyrs in a fiery blaze,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0366.jp2"}, "367": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. MARK 349\\nAzure saints and silver rays,\\nMoses breastplate and the seven,\\nCandlesticks John saw in Heaven,\\nThe winged Lion of Saint Mark,\\nAnd the Covenantal Ark,\\nWith its many mysteries.\\nCherubim and golden mice.\\nBertha was a maiden fair,\\nDwelling in th old Minster-square 40\\nFrom her fireside she could see.\\nSidelong, its rich antiquity,\\nFar as the Bishop s garden wall\\nWhere sycamores and elm-trees tall,\\nFull-leaved, the forest had outstript.\\nBy no sharp north- wind ever nipt,\\nSo shelter d by the mighty pile.\\nBertha arose, and read awhile,\\nWith forehead gainst the window-pane.\\nAgain she tried, and then again, 50\\nUntil the dusk eve left her dark\\nUpon the legend of St, Mark.\\nFrom plaited lawn-frill, fine and thin.\\nShe lifted up her soft warm chin,\\nWith aching neck and swimming eyes,\\nAnd dazed with saintly imag ries.\\nAll was gloom, and silent all,\\nSave now and then the still foot-fall\\nOf one returning homewards late,\\nPast the echoing minster-gate. 60\\nThe clamorous daws, that all the day\\nAbove tree-tops and towers play.\\nPair by pair had gone to rest.\\nEach in its ancient belfry-nest.\\nWhere asleep they fall betimes.\\nTo music and the drowsy chimes.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0367.jp2"}, "368": {"fulltext": "350 THE EVE OF ST. MARK\\nAll was silent, all was gloom,\\nAbroad and in the homely room\\nDown she sat, poor cheated soul\\nAnd struck a lamp from the dismal coal 70\\nLean d forward, with bright drooping hair\\nAnd slant book, full against the glare.\\nHer shadow, in uneasy guise,\\nHover d about, a giant size,\\nOn ceiling-beam and old oak chair,\\nThe parrot s cage, and panel-square\\nAnd the warm angled winter-screen,\\nOn which were many monsters seen,\\nCall d doves of Siam, Lima mice,\\nAnd legless birds of Paradise, 80\\nMacaw, and tender Avadavat,\\nAnd silken-f urr d Angora cat.\\nUntired she read, her shadow still\\nGlower d about, as it would fill\\nThe room with wildest forms and shades,\\nAs though some ghostly queen of spades\\nHad come to mock behind her back,\\nAnd dance, and ruffle her garments black.\\nUntired she read the legend page,\\nOf holy Mark, from youth to age, 90\\nOn land, on sea, in pagan chains.\\nRejoicing for his many pains.\\nSometimes the learned eremite.\\nWith golden star, or dagger bright,\\nReferr d to pious poesies\\nWritten in smallest crow-quill size\\nBeneath the text and thus the rhyme\\nWas parcel! d out from time to time\\nAls writith he of swevenis,\\nMen han beforne they wake in bliss, 100\\nWhanne that hir friendes thinke him bound\\nIn crimped shroude farre under grounde\\nAnd how a litling child mote be", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0368.jp2"}, "369": {"fulltext": "THE EVE OF ST. MARK 35J\\nA saint er its nativitie,\\nGif that the modre (God her blesse\\nKepen in solitarinesse,\\nAnd kissen devoute the holy croce,\\nOf Goddes love, and Sathan s force,\\nHe writith and thinges many mo\\nOf swiche thinges I may not show. n.\\nBot I must tellen verilie\\nSomdel of Sainte Cicilie,\\nAnd chieflie what he auctorethe\\nOf Saints Markis life and dethe\\nAt length her constant eyelids come\\nUpon the fervent martyrdom\\nThen lastly to his holy shrine,\\nExalt amid the tapers shine\\nAt Venice,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0369.jp2"}, "370": {"fulltext": "352 HYPERION\\nHYPERION\\nA FRAGMENT\\nBOOK I\\nDeep in the shady sadness of a vale\\nFar sunken from the healthy breath of morn,\\nFar from the fiery noon, and eve s one star,\\nSat gray-hair d Saturn, quiet as a stone.\\nStill as the silence round about his lair\\nForest on forest hung about his head\\nLike cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there.\\nNot so much life as on a summer s day\\nRobs not one light seed from the feather d grass,\\nBut where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest. k\\nA stream went voiceless by, still deadened more\\nBy reason of his fallen divinity\\nSpreading a shade the Naiad mid her reeds\\nPress d her cold finger closer to her lips.\\nAlong the margin-sand large foot-marks went.\\nNo further than to where his feet had stray d,\\nAnd slept there since. Upon the sodden ground\\nHis old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,\\nUnsceptred and his realmless eyes were closed\\nWhile his bow d head seem d list ning to the Earth,\\nHis ancient mother, for some comfort yet. 21\\nIt seem d no force could wake him from his place\\nBut there came one, who with a kindred hand\\nTouch d his wide shoulders, after bending low\\nWith reverence, though to one who knew it not.\\nShe was a Goddess of the infant world\\nBy her in stature the tall Amazon\\nHad stood a pigmy s height she would have ta en\\nAchilles by the hair and bent his neck", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0370.jp2"}, "371": {"fulltext": "i\\nBOOK FIRST 353\\nOr with a finger stay d Ixion s wheel. 30\\nHer face was large as that of Memphian sphinx,\\nPedestal d haply in a palace-court,\\nWhen sages look d to Egypt for their lore.\\nBut oh how unlike marble was that face\\nHow beautiful, if sorrow had not made\\nSorrow more beautiful than Beauty s self.\\nThere was a listening fear in her regard,\\nAs if calamity had but begun\\nAs if the vanward clouds of evil days\\nHad spent their malice, and the sullen rear 40\\nWas with its stored thunder labouring up.\\nOne hand she press d upon that aching spot\\nWhere beats the human heart, as if just there,\\nThough an immortal, she felt cruel pain:\\nThe other upon Saturn s bended neck\\nShe laid, and to the level of his ear\\nLeaning with parted lips, some words she spake\\nIn solemn tenour and deep organ tone\\nSome mourning words, which in our feeble tongue\\nWould come in these like accents O how frail 50\\nTo that large utterance of the early gods\\nSaturn, look up! though wherefore, poor old\\nKing?\\nI have no comfort for thee, no not one\\nI cannot say, O wherefore sleepest thou?\\nFor heaven is parted from thee, and the earth\\nKnows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God\\nAnd ocean too, with all its solemn noise,\\nHas from thy sceptre pass d and all the air\\nIs emptied of thine hoary majesty.\\nThy thunder, conscious of the new command, 60\\nRumbles reluctant o er our fallen house\\nAnd thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands\\nScorches and burns our once serene domain.\\nO aching time O moments big as years\\nAll as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth.\\nAnd press it so upon our weary griefs", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0371.jp2"}, "372": {"fulltext": "354 HYPERION\\nThat unbelief has not a space to breathe.\\nSaturn, sleep on O thoughtless, why did I\\nThus violate thy slumbrous solitude\\nWhy should I ope thy melancholy eyes 70\\nSaturn, sleep on while at thy feet I weep.\\nAs when, upon a tranced summer-night,\\nThose green-robed senators of mighty woods,\\nTall oaks, branch- charmed by the earnest stars,\\nDream, and so dream all night without a stir,\\nSave from one gradual solitary gust\\nWhich comes upon the silence, and dies off,\\nAs if the ebbing air had but one wave\\nSo came these words and went the while in tears\\nShe touch d her fair large forehead to the ground, 80\\nJust where her falling hair might be outspread\\nA soft and silken mat for Saturn s feet.\\nOne moon, with alteration slow, had shed\\nHer silver seasons four upon the night.\\nAnd still these two were postured motionless,\\nLike natural sculpture in cathedral cavern\\nThe frozen God still couchant on the earth,\\nAnd the sad Goddess weeping at his feet\\nUntil at length old Saturn lifted up\\nHis faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone, 90\\nAnd all the gloom and sorrow of the place.\\nAnd that fair kneeling Goddess and then spake,\\nAs with a palsied tongue, and while his beard\\nShook horrid with such aspen-malady\\nO tender spouse of gold Hyperion,\\nThea, I feel thee ere I see thy face\\nLook up, and let me see our doom in it\\nLook up, and tell me if this feeble shape\\nIs Saturn s tell me, if thou hear st the voice\\nOf Saturn tell me, if this wrinkling brow, 100\\nNaked and bare of its great diadem,\\nPeers like the front of Saturn. Who had power\\nTo make me desolate whence came the strength", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0372.jp2"}, "373": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 355\\nHow was it nurtured to such bursting forth,\\nWhile Fate seem d strangled in my nervous grasp\\nBut it is so and I am smother d up,\\nAnd buried from all godlike exercise\\nOf influence benign on planets pale,\\nOf admonitions to the winds and seas,\\nOf peaceful sway above man s harvesting, no\\nAnd all those acts which Deity supreme\\nDoth ease its heart of love in. I am gone\\nAway from my own bosom I have left\\nMy strong identity, my real self.\\nSomewhere between the throne, and where I sit\\nHere on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, search\\nOpen thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round\\nUpon all space space starr d, and lorn of light;\\nSpace region d with life-air, and barren void\\nSpaces of fire, and all the yawn of hell. 120\\nSearch, Thea, search and tell me if thou seest\\nA certain shape or shadow, making way\\nWith wings or chariot fierce to repossess\\nA heaven he lost erewhile it must it must\\nBe of ripe progress Saturn must be King.\\nYes, there must be a golden victory\\nThere must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets\\nblown\\nOf triumph calm, and hymns of festival\\nUpon the gold clouds metropolitan.\\nVoices of soft proclaim, and silver stir 130\\nOf strings in hollow shells and there shall be\\nBeautiful things made new, for the surprise\\nOf the sky-children I will give command\\nThea Thea Thea where is Saturn\\nThis passion lifted him upon his feet.\\nAnd made his hands to struggle in the air,\\nHis Druid locks to shake and ooze with sweat,\\nHis eyes to fever out, his voice to cease.\\nHe stood, and heard not Thea s sobbing deep", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0373.jp2"}, "374": {"fulltext": "356 HYPERION\\nA little time, and then again he snatch d 140\\nUtterance thus But cannot I create\\nCannot I form Cannot I fashion forth\\nAnother world, another universe,\\nTo overbear and crumble this to nought\\nWhere is another chaos Where That word\\nFound way unto Olympus, and made quake\\nThe rebel three. Thea was startled up,\\nAnd in her bearing was a sort of hope,\\nAs thus she quick- voiced spake, yet full of awe.\\nThis cheers our fallen house come to our friends,\\nSaturn come away, and give them heart 151\\n1 know the covert, for thence came I hither.\\nThus brief then with beseeching eyes she went\\nWith backward footing through the shade a space\\nHe follow d, and she turn d to lead the way\\nThrough aged boughs, that yielded like the mist\\nWhich eagles cleave upmounting from their nest.\\nMeanwhile in other realms big tears were shed,\\nMore sorrow like to this, and such like woe,\\nToo huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe 160\\nThe Titans fierce, self -hid, or prison-bound\\nGroan d for the old allegiance once more.\\nAnd listen d in sharp pain for Saturn s voice.\\nBut one of the whole mammoth-brood still kept\\nHis sov reignty, and rule, and majesty\\nBlazing Hyperion on his orbed fire\\nStill sat, still snuff d the incense, teeming up\\nFrom man to the sun s God yet unsecm-e\\nFor as among us mortals omens drear\\nFright and perplex, so also shudder d he, 170\\nNot at dog s howl, or gloom-bird s hated screech.\\nOr the familiar visiting of one\\nUpon the first toll of his passing-bell.\\nOr prophesyings of the midnight lamp\\nBut horrors, portion d to a giant nerve,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0374.jp2"}, "375": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 357\\nOft made Hyperion ache. His palace bright\\nBastion d with pyramids of glowing gold,\\nAnd touch d with shade of bronzed obelisks,\\nGlared a blood-red through all its thousand courts,\\nArches, and domes, and fiery galleries i8o\\nAnd all its curtains of Aurorian clouds\\nFlush d angerly while sometimes eagles wings,\\nUnseen before by Gods or wondering men,\\nDarken d the place and neighing steeds were heard,\\nNot heard before by Gods or wondering men.\\nAlso, when he would taste the spicy wreaths.\\nOf incense breathed aloft from sacred hills,\\nInstead of sweets, his ample palate took\\nSavour of poisonous brass and metal sick:\\nAnd so, when harbour d in the sleepy west, 190\\nAfter the full completion of fair day,\\nFor rest divine upon exalted couch\\nAnd slumber in the arms of melody.\\nHe paced away the pleasant hours of ease\\nWith stride colossal, on from hall to hall\\nWhile far within each aisle and deep recess,\\nHis winged minions in close clusters stood,\\nAmazed and full of fear like anxious men\\nWho on wide plains gather in panting troops,\\nWhen earthquakes jar their battlements and tow-\\ners. 200\\nEven now while Saturn, roused from icy trance.\\nWent step for step with Thea through the woods,\\nHyperion, leaving twilight in the rear,\\nCame slope upon the threshold of the west\\nThen, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope\\nIn smoothest silence, save what solemn tubes,\\nBlown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet\\nAnd wandering sounds, slow -breathed melodies\\nAnd like a rose in vermeil tint and shape.\\nIn fragrance soft, and coolness to the eye, 210\\nThat inlet to severe magnificence\\nStood full blown, for the God to enter in.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0375.jp2"}, "376": {"fulltext": "358 HYPERION\\nHe enter d, but he enter d full of wrath,\\nHis flaming robes stream d out beyond his heels,\\nAnd gave a roar, as if of earthly fire,\\nThat scared away the meek ethereal Hours\\nAnd made their dove- wings tremble. On he flared\\nFrom stately nave to nave, from vault to vault,\\nThrough bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light.\\nAnd diamond-paved lustrous long arcades 220\\nUntil he reach d the great main cupola\\nThere standing fierce beneath, he stampt his foot.\\nAnd from the basements deep to the high towers\\nJarr d his own golden region and before\\nThe quavering thunder thereupon had ceased,\\nHis voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb,\\nTo this result O dreams of day and night\\nO monstrous forms O effigies of pain\\nO spectres busy in a cold, cold gloom\\nlank-ear d Phantoms of black-weeded pools 230\\nWhy do I know ye why have I seen ye why\\nIs my eternal essence thus distraught\\nTo see and to behold these horrors new\\nSaturn is fallen, am I too to fall\\nAm I to leave this haven of my rest.\\nThis cradle of my glory, this soft clime,\\nThis calm luxuriance of blissful light.\\nThese crystalline pavilions, and pure fanes,\\nOf all my lucent empire It is left\\nDeserted, void, nor any haunt of mine. 240\\nThe blaze, the splendour, and the symmetry,\\n1 cannot see but darkness, death and darkness.\\nEven here, into my centre of repose.\\nThe shady visions come to domineer.\\nInsult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp.\\nFall No, by Tellus and her briny robes!\\nOver the fiery frontier of my realms\\nI will advance a terrible right arm\\nShall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove,\\nAnd bid old Saturn take his throne again. 250", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0376.jp2"}, "377": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 359\\nHe spake, and ceased, the while a heavier threat\\nHeld struggle with his throat, but came not forth\\nFor as in theatres of crowded men\\nHubbub increases more they call out, Hush 1\\nSo at Hyperion s words the Phantoms pale\\nBestirr d themselves, thrice horrible and cold\\nAnd from the mirror d level where he stood\\nA mist arose, as from a scummy marsh.\\nAt this, through all his bulk an agony\\nCrept gradual, from the feet unto the crown, 260\\nLike a lithe serpent vast and muscular\\nMaking slow way, with head and neck convulsed\\nFrom over-strained might. Released, he fled\\nTo the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours\\nBefore the dawn in season due should blush.\\nHe breathed fierce breath against the sleepy por-\\ntals,\\nClear d them of heavy vapours, burst them wide\\nSuddenly on the ocean s chilly streams.\\nThe planet orb of fire, whereon he rode\\nEach day from east to west the heavens through, 270\\nSpun round in sable curtaining of clouds\\nNot therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid,\\nBut ever and anon the glancing spheres,\\nCircles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure,\\nGlow d through, and wrought upon the muffling\\ndark\\nSweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep\\nUp to the zenith, hieroglyphics old.\\nWhich sages and keen-eyed astrologers\\nThen living on the earth, with labouring thought\\nWon from the gaze of many centuries 280\\nNow lost, save what we find on remnants huge\\nOf stone, or marble swart their import gone.\\nTheir wisdom long since fled. Two wings this\\norb\\nPossess d for glory, two fair argent wings,\\nEver exalted at the God s approach", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0377.jp2"}, "378": {"fulltext": "36o HYPERION\\nAnd now, from forth the gloom their plumes im-\\nmense\\nRose, one by one, till all outspreaded were\\nWhile still the dazzling globe maintain d eclipse,\\nAwaiting for Hyperion s command.\\nFain would he have commanded, fain took throne\\nAnd bid the day begin, if but for change. 291\\nHe might not No, though a primeval God\\nThe sacred seasons might not be disturb d.\\nTherefore the operations of the dawn\\nStay d in their birth, even as here t is told.\\nThose silver wings expanded sisterly,\\nEager to sail their orb the porches wide\\nOpen d upon the dusk demesnes of night\\nAnd the bright Titan, phrenzied with new woes,\\nUnused to bend, by hard compulsion bent 300\\nllis spirit to the sorrow of the time\\nAnd all along a dismal rack of clouds,\\nUpon the boundaries of day and night,\\nHe stretch d himself in grief and radiance faint.\\nThere as he lay, the Heaven with its stars\\nLook d down on him with pity, and the voice\\nOf Coelus, from the universal space.\\nThus whisper d low and solemn in his ear\\nO brightest of my children dear, earth-born\\nAnd sky-engendered. Son of Mysteries 310\\nAll unrevealed even to the powers\\nWhich met at thy creating at whose joys\\nAnd palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft,\\nI, Coelus, wonder, how they came and whence\\nAnd at the fruits thereof what shapes they be,\\nDistinct, and visible symbols divine,\\nManifestations of that beauteous life\\nDiffused unseen throughout eternal space\\nOf these new-form d art thou, oh brightest child\\nOf these, thy brethren and the Goddesses 320\\nThere is sad feud among ye, and rebellion\\nOf son against his sire. I saw him fall,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0378.jp2"}, "379": {"fulltext": "BOOK FIRST 361\\nI saw my first-born tumbled froDi his throne\\nTo me his arms were spread, to me his voice\\nFound way from forth the thunders round his\\nhead!\\nPale wox I, and in vapours hid my face.\\nArt thou, too, near such doom vague fear there\\nis:\\nFor I have seen my sons most unlike Gods.\\nDivine ye were created, and divine\\nIn sad demeanour, solemn, undisturb d, 330\\nUnruffled, like high Gods, ye lived and ruled\\nNow I behold in you fear, hope, and wrath\\nActions of rage and passion even as\\nI see them, on the mortal world beneath.\\nIn men who die. This is the grief, O Son\\nSad sign of ruin, sudden dismay, and fall\\nYet do thou strive as thou art capable.\\nAs thou canst move about, an evident God\\nAnd canst oppose to each malignant hour\\nEthereal presence I am but a voice 340\\nMy life is but the life of winds and tides,\\nNo more than winds and tides can I avail\\nBut thou canst. Be thou therefore in the van\\nOf circumstance yea, seize the arrow s barb\\nBefore the tense string murmur. To the earth\\nFor there thou wilt find Saturn, and his woes.\\nMeantime I wi ll keep watch on thy bright sun,\\nAnd of thy seasons be a careful nurse.\\nEre half this region- whisper had come down,\\nHyperion arose, and on the stars 350\\nLifted his curved lids, and kept them wide\\nUntil it ceased and still he kept them wide\\nAnd still they were the same bright, patient stars.\\nThen with a slow incline of his broad breast,\\nLike to a diver in the pearly seas,\\nForward he stoop d over the airy shore.\\nAnd plunged all noiseless into the deep night.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0379.jp2"}, "380": {"fulltext": "362 HYPERION\\nBOOK II\\nJust at the self-same beat of Time s wide wings\\nHyperion slid into the rustled air,\\nAnd Saturn gain d with Thea that sad place\\nWhere Cybele and the bruised Titans mourn d.\\nIt was a den where no insulting light\\nCould glimmer on their tears where their own\\ngroans\\nThey felt, but heard not, for the solid roar\\nOf thunderous waterfalls and torrents hoarse,\\nPouring a constant bulk, uncertain where.\\nCrag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem d 10\\nEver as if just rising from a sleep,\\nForehead to forehead held their monstrous horns\\nAnd thus in thousand hugest phantasies\\nMade a fit roofing to this nest of woe.\\nInstead of thrones, hard flint they sat upon,\\nCouches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge\\nStubborn d with iron. All were not assembled\\nSome chain d in torture, and some wandering.\\nCoeus, and Gyges, and Briarciis,\\nTyphon, and Dolor, and Porphyrion, 20\\nWith many more, the brawniest in assault,\\nWere pent in regions of laborious breath\\nDungeon d in opaque element to keep\\nTheir clenched teeth still clench d, and all their\\nlimbs\\nLock d up like veins of metal, crampt and screw d\\nWithout a motion, save of their big hearts\\nHeaving in pain, and horribly convulsed\\nWith sanguine, feverous, boiling gurge of pulse.\\nMnemosyne was straying in the world\\nFar from her moon had Phoebe wandered 30\\nAnd many else were free to roam abroad.\\nBut for the main, here found they covert drear.\\nScarce images of life, one here, one there,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0380.jp2"}, "381": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 363\\nLay vast and edgeways like a dismal cirque\\nOf Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor,\\nWhen the chill rain begins at shut of eve,\\nIn dull November, and their chancel vault,\\nThe Heaven itself, is blinded throughout night.\\nEach one kept shroud, nor to his neighbour gave\\nOr word, or look, or action of despair. 40\\nCrelis was one his ponderous iron mace\\nLay by him, and a shatter d rib of rock\\nTold of his rage, ere he thus sank and pined.\\nlapetus another in his grasp,\\nA serpent s plashy neck its barbed tongue\\nSqueezed from the gorge, and all its uncurl d length\\nDead and because the creature could not spit\\nIts poison in the eyes of conquering Jove.\\nNext Cottus prone he lay, chin uppermost,\\nAs though in pain for still upon the flint 50\\nHe ground severe his skull, with open mouth\\nAnd eyes at horrid working. Nearest him\\nAsia, born of most enormous Caf\\nWho cost her mother Tellus keener pangs,\\nThough feminine, than any of her sons\\nMore thought than woe was in her dusky face,\\nFor she was prophesying of her glory\\nAnd in her wide imagination stood\\nPalm-shaded temples, and high rival fanes,\\nBy Oxus or in Ganges sacred isles. 60\\nEven as Hope upon her anchor leans.\\nSo leant she, not so fair, upon a tusk\\nShed from the broadest of her elephants.\\nAbove her, on a crag s uneasy shelve.\\nUpon his elbow raised, all prostrate else,\\nShadow d Enceladus once tame and mild\\nAs grazing ox unworried in the meads\\nNow tiger-passion d, lion-thoughted, wroth,\\nHe meditated, plotted, and even now\\nWas hurling mountains in that second war, 70\\nNot long delay d, that scared the younger Gods", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0381.jp2"}, "382": {"fulltext": "364 HYPERION\\nTo hide themselves in forms of beast and bird.\\nNot far hence Atlas and beside him prone\\nPhorcus, the sire of Gorgons. Neighbour d close\\nOceanus, and Tethys, in whose lap\\nSobb d Clymene among her tangled hair.\\nIn midst of all lay Themis, at the feet\\nOf Ops the queen all clouded round from sight\\nNo shape distinguishable, more than when\\nThick night confounds the pine tops with the\\nclouds 80\\nAnd many else whose names may not be told.\\nFor when the Muse s wings are air- ward spread,\\nWho shall delay her flight And she must chant\\nOf Saturn, and his guide, who now had climb d\\nWith damp and slippery footing from a depth\\nMore horrid still. Above a sombre cliff\\nTheir heads appear d, and up their stature grew\\nTill on the level height their steps found ease\\nThen Thea spread abroad her trembling arms\\nUpon the precincts of this nest of pain, 90\\nAnd side-long fix d her eye on Saturn s face\\nThere saw she direst strife the supreme God\\nAt war with all the frailty of grief.\\nOf rage, of fear, anxiety, revenge.\\nRemorse, spleen, hope, but most of all despair.\\nAgainst these plagues he strove in vain for Fate\\nHad pour d a mortal oil upon his head,\\nA disanointing poison so that Thea,\\nAffrighted, kept her still, and let him pass\\nFirst onwards in, among the fallen tribe. 100\\nAs with us mortal men, the laden heart\\nIs persecuted more, and fever d more.\\nWhen it is nighing to the mournful house\\nWhere other hearts are sick of the same bruise\\nSo Saturn, as he walk d into the midst,\\nFelt faint, and would have sunk among the rest,\\nBut that he met Enceladus s eye,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0382.jp2"}, "383": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 365\\nWhose mightiness, and awe of him, at once\\nCame like an inspiration and he shouted, 109\\nTitans, behold your God at which some groan d\\nSome started on their feet some also shouted\\nSome wept, some wail d all bow d with rever-\\nence\\nAnd Ops, uplifting her black folded veil.\\nShow d her pale cheeks, and all her forehead wan,\\nHer eyebrows thin and jet, and hollow eyes.\\nThere is a roaring in the bleak-grown pines\\nWhen Winter lifts his voice there is a noise\\nAmong immortals when a God gives sign.\\nWith hushing finger, how he means to load\\nHis tongue with the full weight of utterless thought,\\nWith thunder, and with music, and with pomp 121\\nSuch noise is like the roar of bleak-grown pines\\nWhich, when it ceases in this mountain d world,\\nNo other sound succeeds but ceasing here.\\nAmong these fallen, Saturn s voice therefrom\\nGrew up like organ, that begins anew\\nIts strain, when other harmonies, stopt short,\\nLeave the dinn d air vibrating silverly.\\nThus grew it up Not in my own sad breast,\\nWhich is its own great judge and searcher out, 130\\nCan I find reason why ye should be thus:\\nNot in the legends of the first of days.\\nStudied from that old spirit-leaved book\\nWhich starry Uranus with finger bright\\nSaved from the shores of darkness, when the waves\\nLow-ebb d still hid it up in shallow gloom\\nAnd the which book ye know I ever kept\\nFor my firm-based footstool Ah, infirm\\nNot there, nor in sign, symbol, or portent\\nOf element, earth, water, air, and fire, 140\\nAt war, at peace, or inter-quarrelling\\nOne against one, or two, or three, or all\\nEach several one against the other three,\\nAs fire with air loud warring when rain-floods", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0383.jp2"}, "384": {"fulltext": "366 HYPERION\\nDrown both, and press them both against earth s\\nface,\\nWhere, finding sulphur, a quadruple wrath\\nUnhinges the poor world not in that strife,\\nWherefrom I take strange lore, and read it deep,\\nCan I find reason why ye should be thus\\nNo, nowhere can unriddle, though I search, 150\\nAnd pore on nature s universal scroll\\nEven to swooning, why ye. Divinities,\\nThe first-born of all shaped and palpable Gods,\\nShould cower beneath what, in comparison,\\nIs untremendous might. Yet ye are here,\\nO erwhelm d, and spurn d, and batter d, ye are here\\nO Titans, shall I say Arise Ye groan\\nShall I say Crouch Ye groan. What can I\\nthen?\\nO Heaven wide O unseen parent dear\\nWhat can I Tell me, all ye brethren Gods, 160\\nHow we can war, how engine our great wrath\\nspeak your counsel now, for Saturn s ear\\nIs all a-hunger d. Thou, Oceanus,\\nPonderest high and deep and in thy face\\n1 see, astonied, that severe content\\nWhich comes of thought and musing: give us\\nhelp\\nSo ended Saturn and the God of the Sea,\\nSophist and Sage, from no Athenian grove,\\nBut cogitation in his watery shades.\\nArose, with locks not oozy, and began, 170\\nIn murmurs, which his first-endeavouring tongue\\nCaught infant-like from the far-foamed sands.\\nO ye, whom wrath consumes who, passion-stung,\\nWrithe at defeat, and nurse your agonies\\nShut up your senses, stifle up your ears,\\nMy voice is not a bellows unto ire.\\nYet listen, ye who will, whilst I bring proof\\nHow ye, perforce, must be content to stoop", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0384.jp2"}, "385": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 367\\nAnd in the proof much comfort will I give,\\nIf ye will take that comfort in its truth. 180\\nWe fall by course of Nature s law, not force\\nOf thunder, or of Jove. Great Saturn, thou\\nHas sifted well the atom-universe\\nBut for this reason, that thou art the King,\\nAnd only blind from sheer supremacy,\\nOne avenue was shaded from thine eyes.\\nThrough which I wander d to eternal truth.\\nAnd first, as thou wast not the first of powers.\\nSo art thou not the last it cannot be\\nThou art not the beginning nor the end. 190\\nFrom chaos and parental darkness came\\nLight, the first fruits of that intestine broil,\\nThat sullen ferment, which for wondrous ends\\nWas ripening in itself. The ripe hour came,\\nAnd with it light, and light engendering\\nUpon its own producer, forthwith touch d\\nThe whole enormous matter into life.\\nUpon that very hour, our parentage.\\nThe Heavens and the Earth, were manifest\\nThen thou first-born, and we the giant-race, 200\\nFound ourselves ruling new and beauteous realms.\\nNow comes the pain of truth, to whom t is pain\\nO folly for to bear all naked truths.\\nAnd to envisage circumstance, all calm,\\nThat is the top of sovereignty. Mark well\\nAs Heaven and Earth are fairer, fairer far\\nThan Chaos and blank Darkness, though once chiefs\\nAnd as we show beyond that Heaven and Earth\\nIn form and shape compact and beautiful,\\nIn will, in action free, companionship, 210\\nAnd thousand other signs of purer life\\nSo on our heels a fresh perfection treads,\\nA power more strong in beauty, born of us\\nAnd fated to excel us, as we pass\\nIn glory that old Darkness nor are we\\nThereby more conquer d, than by us the rule", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0385.jp2"}, "386": {"fulltext": "368 HYPERION\\nOf shapeless Chaos. Say, doth the dull soil\\nQuarrel with the proud forests it hath fed,\\nAnd feedeth still, more comely than itself\\nCan it deny the chiefdom of green groves 220\\nOr shall the tree be envious of the dove\\nBecause it cooeth, and hath snowy wings\\nTo wander wherewithal and find its joys\\nWe are such forest-trees, and our fair boughs\\nHave bred forth, not pale solitary doves,\\nBut eagles golden-feather d, who do tower\\nAbove us in their beauty, and must reign\\nIn right thereof for tis the eternal law\\nThat first in beauty should be first in might\\nYea, by that law, another race may drive 230\\nOur conquerors to mourn as we do now.\\nHave ye beheld the young God of the Seas,\\nMy dispossessor Have ye seen his face\\nHave ye beheld his chariot, foam d along\\nBy noble winged creatures he hath made\\nI saw him on the calmed waters scud.\\nWith such a glow of beauty in his eyes,\\nThat it enforced me to bid sad farewell\\nTo all my empire farewell sad I took.\\nAnd hither came, to see how dolorous fate 240\\nHad wrought upon ye and how I might best\\nGive consolation in this woe extreme.\\nReceive the truth and let it be your balm.\\nWhether through poz d conviction, or disdain\\nThey guarded silence, when Oceanus\\nLeft murmuring, what deepest thought can tell\\nBut so it was, none answer d for a space,\\nSave one whom none regarded, Clymene\\nAnd yet she answer d not, only complain d,\\nWith hectic lips, and eyes up-looking mild, 250\\nThus wording timidly among the fierce\\nO Father, I am here the simplest voice,\\nAnd all my knowledge is that joy is gone.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0386.jp2"}, "387": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 369\\nAnd this thing woe crept in among our hearts,\\nThere to remain forever, as I fear\\nI would not bode of evil, if I thought\\nSo weak a creature could turn off the help\\nWhich by just right should come of mighty Gods\\nYet let me tell my sorrow, let me tell\\nOf what I heard, and how it made me weep, 260\\nAnd know that we had parted from all hope.\\nI stood upon a shore, a pleasant shore,\\nWhere a sweet clime was breathed from a land\\nOf fragrance, quietness, and trees, and flowers.\\nFull of calm joy it was, as I of grief\\nToo full of joy and soft delicious warmth\\nSo that I felt a movement in my heart\\nTo chide, and to reproach that solitude\\nWith songs of misery, music of our woes\\nAnd sat me down, and took a mouthed shell 270\\nAnd murmur d into it, and made melody\\nmelody no more for while I sang,\\nAnd with poor skill let pass into the breeze\\nThe dull shell s echo, from a bowery strand\\nJust opposite, an island of the sea,\\nThere came enchantment with the shifting wind,\\nThat did both drown and keep alive my ears.\\n1 threw my shell away upon the sand.\\nAnd a wave fill d it, as my sense was fiU d\\nWith that new blissful golden melody. 280\\nA living death was in each gush of sounds.\\nEach family of rapturous hurried notes.\\nThat fell, one after one, yet all at once,\\nLike pearl beads dropping sudden from their string\\nAnd then another, then another strain.\\nEach like a dove leaving its olive perch,\\nWith music wing d instead of silent plumes.\\nTo hover round my head, and make me sick\\nOf joy and grief at once. Grief overcame.\\nAnd I was stopping up my frantic ears, 290\\nWhen, past all hindrance of my trembling hands.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0387.jp2"}, "388": {"fulltext": "370 HYPERION\\nA voice came sweeter, sweeter than all tune,\\nAnd still it cried, Apollo young Apollo\\nThe morning-bright Apollo young Apollo\\nI fled, it foUow d me, and cried, Apollo\\nO Father, and O Brethren, had ye felt\\nThose pains of mine O Saturn, hadst thou felt,\\nYe would not call this too indulged tongue\\nPresumptuous, in thus venturing to be heard.\\nSo far her voice flow d on, like timorous brook 300\\nThat, lingering along a pebbled coast,\\nDoth fear to meet the sea but sea it met.\\nAnd shudder d for the overwhelming voice\\nOf huge Enceladus swallow d it in wrath\\nThe ponderous syllables, like sullen waves\\nIn the half-glutted hollows of reef-rocks,\\nCame booming thus, while still upon his arm\\nHe lean d not rising, from supreme contempt.\\nOr shall we listen to the over-wise,\\nOr to the over- foolish giant, Gods? 310\\nNot thunderbolt on thunderbolt, till all\\nThat rebel Jove s whole armoury were spent.\\nNot world on world upon these shoulders piled,\\nCould agonize me more than baby-words\\nIn midst of this dethronement horrible.\\nSpeak roar shout yell ye sleepy Titans all.\\nDo ye forget the blows, the buffets vile\\nAre ye not smitten by a youngling arm\\nDost thou forget, sham Monarch of the Waves,\\nThy scalding in the seas What have I roused 320\\nYour spleens with so few simple words as these\\nO joy for now I see ye are not lost\\nO joy for now I see a thousand eyes\\nWide-glaring for revenge. As this he said,\\nHe lifted up his stature vast, and stood,\\nStill without intermission speaking thus\\nNow ye are flames, I 11 tell you how to burn,\\nAnd purge the ether of our enemies", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0388.jp2"}, "389": {"fulltext": "BOOK SECOND 371\\nHow to feed fierce the crooked stings of fire,\\nAnd singe away the swollen clouds of Jove, 330\\nStifling that puny essence in its tent,\\nO let him feel the evil he hath done\\nFor though I scorn Oceanus slore,\\nMuch pain have I for more than loss of realms\\nThe days of peace and slumberous calm are fled\\nThose days, all innocent of scathing war,\\nWhen all the fair Existences of heaven\\nCame open-eyed to guess what we would speak\\nThat was before our brows were taught to frown,\\nBefore our lips knew else but solemn sounds 340\\nThat was before we knew the winged thing.\\nVictory, might be lost, or might be won.\\nAnd be ye mindful that Hyperion,\\nOur brightest brother, still is undisgraced\\nHyperion, lo his radiance is here\\nAll eyes were on Enceladus s face.\\nAnd they beheld, while still Hyperion s name\\nFlew from his lips up to the vaulted rocks,\\nA pallid gleam across his features stern\\nNot savage, for he saw full many a God 350\\nWroth as himself. He look d upon them all,\\nAnd in each face he saw a gleam of light,\\nBut splendider in Saturn s, whose hoar locks\\nShone like the bubbling foam about a keel\\nWhen the prow sweeps into a midnight cove.\\nIn pale and silver silence they remain d,\\nTill suddenly a splendour, like the morn,\\nPervaded all the beetling gloomy steeps,\\nAll the sad spaces of oblivion.\\nAnd every gulf, and every chasm old, 360\\nAnd every height, and every sullen depth,\\nVoiceless, or hoarse with loud tormented streams\\nAnd all the everlasting cataracts.\\nAnd all the headlong torrents far and near,\\nMantled before in darkness and huge shade,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0389.jp2"}, "390": {"fulltext": "372 HYPERION\\nNow saw the light and made it terrible.\\nIt was Hyperion a granite peak\\nHis bright feet touch d, and there he stay d to view\\nThe misery his brilliance had betray d\\nTo the most hateful seeing of itself. 370\\nGolden his hair of short Numidian curl,\\nRegal his shape majestic, a vast shade\\nIn midst of his own brightness, like the bulk\\nOf Memnon s image at the set of sun\\nTo one who travels from the dusking East\\nSighs, too, as mournful as that Memnon s harp,\\nHe utter d, while his hands contemplative\\nHe press d together, and in silence stood.\\nDespondence seized again the fallen Gods\\nAt sight of the dejected King of Day, 380\\nAnd many hid their faces from the light\\nBut fierce Enceladus sent forth his eyes\\nAmong the brotherhood and, at their glare,\\nUprose lapetus, and Creus too,\\nAnd Phorcus, sea-born, and together strode\\nTo where he tower d on his eminence.\\nThere those four shouted forth old Saturn s name\\nHyperion from the peak loud answered Saturn\\nSaturn sat near the Mother of the Gods,\\nIn whose face was no joy, though all the Gods 390\\nGave from their hollow throats the name of Saturn\\nBOOK III\\nThus in alternate uproar and sad peace,\\nAmazed were those Titans utterly.\\nO leave them, Muse O leave them to their woes\\nFor thou art weak to sing such tumults dire\\nA solitary sorrow best befits\\nThy lips, and antheming a lonely grief.\\nLeave them, O Muse for thou anon wilt find\\nMany a fallen old Divinity\\nWandering in vain about bewildered shores.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0390.jp2"}, "391": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 373\\nMeantime touch piously the Delphic harp, 10\\nAud not a wind of heaven but will breathe\\nIn aid soft warble from the Dorian flute\\nFor lo tis for the Father of all verse.\\nFlush everything that hath a vermeil hue,\\nLet the rose glow intense and warm the air,\\nAnd let the clouds of even and of morn\\nFloat in voluptuous fleeces o er the hills\\nLet the red wine within the goblet boil,\\nCold as a bubbling well let faint-lipp d shells,\\nOn sands or in great deeps, vermilion turn 20\\nThrough all their labyrinths and let the maid\\nBlush keenly, as with some warm kiss surprised.\\nChief isle of the embowered Cyclades,\\nRejoice, O Delos, with thine olives green.\\nAnd poplars, and lawn-shading palms, and beech.\\nIn which the Zephyr breathes the loudest song,\\nAnd hazels thick, dark-stemm d beneath the shade\\nApollo is once more the golden theme\\nWhere was he, when the Giant of the Sun\\nStood bright, amid the sorrow of his peers 30\\nTogether had he left his mother fair\\nAnd his twin-sister sleeping in their bower,\\nAnd in the morning twilight wandered forth\\nBeside the osiers of a rivulet,\\nFull ankle-deep in lilies of the vale.\\nThe nightingale had ceased, and a few stars\\nWere lingering in the heavens, while the thrush\\nBegan calm-throated. Throughout all the isle\\nThere was no covert, no retired cave\\nUnhaunted by the murmurous noise of waves, 40\\nThough scarcely heard in many a green recess.\\nHe listen d, and he wept, and his bright tears\\nWent trickling down the golden bow he held.\\nThus with half-shut suffused eyes he stood.\\nWhile from beneath some cumbrous boughs hard by\\nWith solemn step an awful Goddess came,\\nAnd there was purport in her looks for him,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0391.jp2"}, "392": {"fulltext": "374 HYPERION\\nWhich he with eager guess began to read\\nPerplex d, the while melodiously he said\\nHow cam st thou over the uufooted sea 50\\nOr hath that antique mien and robed form\\nMoved in these vales invisible till now\\nSure I have heard those vestments sweeping o er\\nThe fallen leaves, when I have sat alone\\nIn cool mid-forest. Surely I have traced\\nThe rustle of those ample skirts about\\nThese grassy solitudes, and seen the flowers\\nLift up their heads, and still the whisper pass d.\\nGoddess I have beheld those eyes before,\\nAnd their eternal calm, and all that face, 60\\nOr I have dream d. Yes, said the supreme shape,\\nThou hast dream d of me and awaking up\\nDidst find a lyre all golden by thy side,\\nWhose strings touch d by thy fingers, all the vast\\nUnwearied ear of the whole universe\\nListen d in pain and pleasure at the birth\\nOf such new tuneful wonder. Is t not strange\\nThat thou shouldst weep, so gifted? Tell me,\\nyouth,\\nWhat sorrow thou canst feel for I am sad\\nWhen thou dost shed a tear explain thy griefs 70\\nTo one who in this lonely isle hath been\\nThe watcher of thy sleep and hours of life.\\nFrom the young day when first thy infant hand\\nPluck d witless the weak flowers, till thine arm\\nCould bend that bow heroic to all times.\\nShow thy heart s secret to an ancient Power\\nWho hath forsaken old and sacred thrones\\nFor prophecies of thee, and for the sake\\nOf loveliness new-born. Apollo then.\\nWith sudden scrutiny and gloomless eyes, 80\\nThus answer d, while his white melodious throat\\nThrobb d with the syllables Mnemosyne\\nThy name is on my tongue, I know not how\\nWhy should I tell thee what thou so well seest", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0392.jp2"}, "393": {"fulltext": "BOOK THIRD 375\\nWhy should I strive to show what from thy lips\\nWould come no mystery For me, dark, dark,\\nAnd painful vile oblivion seals my eyes\\nI strive to search wherefore I am so sad,\\nUntil a melancholy numbs my limbs\\nAnd then upon the grass I sit, and moan, 90\\nLike one who once had wings. O why should I\\nFeel cursed and thwarted, when the liegeless air\\nYields to my step aspirant why should I\\nSpurn the green turf as hateful to my feet\\nGoddess benign, point forth some unknown thing\\nAre there not other regions than this isle\\nWhat are the stars There is the sun, the sun\\nAnd the most patient brilliance of the moon\\nAnd stars by thousands Point me out the way\\nTo any one particular beauteous star, 100\\nAnd I will flit into it with my lyre,\\nAnd make its silvery splendour pant with bliss.\\nI have heard the cloudy thunder: Where is power?\\nWhose hand, whose essence, what divinity\\nMakes this alarum in the elements.\\nWhile I here idle listen on the shores\\nIn fearless yet in aching ignorance\\nO tell me, lonely Goddess, by thy harp,\\nThat waileth every morn and eventide,\\nTell me why thus I rave, about these groves no\\nMute thou remainest Mute yet I can read\\nA wondrous lesson in thy silent face\\nKnowledge enormous makes a God of me.\\nNames, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions,\\nMajesties, sovran voices, agonies.\\nCreations and destroyings, all at once\\nPour into the wide hollows of my brain,\\nAnd deify me, as if some blithe wine\\nOr bright elixir peerless I had drunk,\\nAnd so become immortal. Thus the God, 120\\nWhile his enkindled eyes, with level glance\\nBeneath his white soft temples, steadfast kept", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0393.jp2"}, "394": {"fulltext": "376 HYPERION\\nTrembling with light upon Mnemosyne.\\nSoon wild commotions shook him, and made flush\\nAll the immortal fairness of his limbs\\nMost like the struggle at the gate of death\\nOr liker still to one who should take leave\\nOf pale immortal death, and with a pang\\nAs hot as death s is chill, with fierce convulse\\nDie into life so young Apollo anguish d 130\\nHis very hair, his golden tresses famed\\nKept undulation round his eager neck.\\nDuring the pain Mnemosyne upheld\\nHer arms as one who prophesied. At length\\nApollo shriek d and lo from all his limbs\\nCelestial", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0394.jp2"}, "395": {"fulltext": "TO AUTUMN 377\\nTO AUTUMN\\nSeason of mists and mellow fruitfulness,\\nClose bosom-friend of the maturing sun\\nConspiring with him how to load and bless\\nWith fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves\\nrun\\nTo bend with apples the moss d cottage-trees,\\nAnd fill all fruit with ripeness to the core\\nTo swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells\\nWith a sweet kernel to set budding more,\\nAnd still more, later flowers for the bees,\\nUntil they think warm days will never cease,\\nFor Summer has o er-brimm d their clammy\\ncells.\\nWho hath not seen thee oft amid thy store\\nSometimes whoever seeks abroad may find\\nThee sitting careless on a granary floor,\\nThy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind\\nOr on a half-reap d furrow sound asleep,\\nDrowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook\\nSpares the next swath and all its twined flowers\\nAnd sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep\\nSteady thy laden head across a brook\\nOr by a cider-press, with patient look.\\nThou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.\\nWhere are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are\\nthey?\\nThink not of them, thou hast thy music too,\\nWhile barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day.\\nAnd touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue\\nThen in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0395.jp2"}, "396": {"fulltext": "378 TO AUTUMN\\nAmong the river-sallows, borne aloft\\nOr sinking as the light wind lives or dies\\nAnd full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;\\nHedge-crickets sing and now with treble soft\\nThe redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,\\nAnd gathering swallows twitter in the skies.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0396.jp2"}, "397": {"fulltext": "LINES TO FANNY 379\\nVERSES TO FANNY BRAWNE\\nSONNET\\nThe day is gone, and all its sweets are gone\\nSweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer\\nbreast.\\nWarm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,\\nBright eyes, accomplish d shape, and lang rous\\nwaist\\nFaded the flower and all its budded charms.\\nFaded the sight of beauty from my eyes,\\nFaded the shape of beauty from my arms.\\nFaded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!\\nVanish d unseasonably at shut of eve.\\nWhen the dusk holiday or holinight\\nOf fragrant-curtain d love begins to weave\\nThe woof of darkness thick, for hid delight\\nBut, as I ve read love s missal through to-day,\\nHe 11 let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.\\nLINES TO FANNY\\nWhat can I do to drive away\\nRemembrance from my eyes for they have seen,\\nAye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen\\nTouch has a memory. O say, love, say,\\nWhat can I do to kill it and be free\\nIn my old liberty\\nWhen every fair one that I saw was fair,\\nEnough to catch me in but half a snare.\\nNot keep me there\\nWhen, howe er poor or particolour d things.\\nMy muse had wings.\\nAnd ever ready was to take her course\\nWhither I bent her force,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0397.jp2"}, "398": {"fulltext": "38o VERSES TO FANNY BRAWNE\\nUnintellectiial, yet divine to me\\nDivine, I say Wliat sea-bird o er tlie sea\\nIs a philosopher the while he goes\\nWinging along where the great water throes\\nHow shall I do\\nTo get anew\\nThose moulted feathers, and so mount once more\\nAbove, above\\nThe reach of fluttering Love,\\nAnd make him cower lowly while I soar\\nShall I gulp wine No, that is vulgarism,\\nA heresy and schism.\\nFoisted into the canon law of love\\nNo, wine is only sweet to happy men\\nMore dismal cares\\nSeize on me unawares,\\nWhere shall I learn to get my piece again\\nTo banish thoughts of that most hateful land,\\nDungeoner of my friends, that wicked strand\\nWhere they were wreck d and live a wrecked life\\nThat monstrous region, whose dull rivers pour,\\nEver from their sordid urns unto the shore,\\nUnown d of any weedy-haired gods\\nWhose winds, all zephyrless, hold scourging rods.\\nIced in the great lakes, to afiiict mankind\\nWhose rank-grown forests, frosted, black, and blind,\\nWould fright a Dryad whose harsh herbaged\\nmeads\\nMake lean and lank the starved ox while he feeds\\nThere bad flowers have no scent, birds no sweet\\nsong.\\nAnd great unerring Nature once seems wrong.\\nO, for some sunny spell\\nTo dissipate the shadows of this hell\\nSay they are gone, with the new dawning light\\nSteps forth my lady bright 1", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0398.jp2"}, "399": {"fulltext": "TO FANNY 38]\\nO, let me once more rest\\nMy soul upon that dazzling breast\\nLet once again these aching arms be placed,\\nThe tender gaolers of thy waist\\nAnd let me feel that warm breath here and there\\nTo spread a rapture in my very hair,\\nO, the sweetness of the pain\\nGive me those lips again\\nEnough Enough it is enough for me\\nTo dream of thee\\nTO FANNY\\nI CRY your mercy pity love aye, love\\nMerciful love that tantalizes not,\\nOne-thoughted, never- wandering, guileless love,\\nUnmask d, and being seen without a blot\\nO let me have thee whole, all all be mine\\nThat shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest\\nOf love, your kiss, those hands, those eyes divine,\\nThat warm, white, lucent, million pleasured\\nbreast,\\nYourself your soul in pity give me all,\\nWithhold no atom s atom, or I die.\\nOr living on perhaps, your wretched thrall,\\nForget, in the mist of idle misery,\\nLife s purposes the palate of my mind\\nLosing its gust, and my ambition blind", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0399.jp2"}, "400": {"fulltext": "382 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nTHE CAP AND BELLS\\nOR, THE JEALOUSIES\\nA Faery Tale. Unfinished\\nIn midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,\\nThere stood, or hover d, tremulous in the air,\\nA faery city, neath the potent rule\\nOf Emperor Elfinan fam d ev rywhere\\nFor love of mortal women, maidens fair.\\nWhose lips were solid, whose soft hands were\\nmade\\nOf a fit mould and beauty, ripe and rare,\\nTo pamper his slight wooing, warm yet staid\\nHe loved girls smooth as shades, but hated a mere\\nshade.\\nThis was a crime forbidden by the law\\nAnd all the priesthood of his city wept.\\nFor ruin and dismay they well foresaw.\\nIf impious prince no bound or limit kept.\\nAnd faery Zendervester overstept\\nThey wept, he sinn d, and still he would sin on,\\nThey dreamt of sin, and he sinn d while they\\nslept\\nIn vain the pulpit thunder d at the throne,\\nCaricature was vain, and vain the tart lampoon.\\nWhich seeing, his high court of parliament\\nLaid a remonstrance at his Highness feet,\\nPraying his royal senses to content\\nThemselves with what in faery land was sweet.\\nBefitting best that shade with shade should meet\\nWhereat, to calm their fears, he promised soon", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0400.jp2"}, "401": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 383\\nFrom mortal tempters all to make retreat\\nAy, even on the first of the new moon,\\nAn immaterial wife to espouse as heaven s boon.\\nMeantime he sent a fluttering embassy\\nTo Pigmio, of Imaus sovereign,\\nTo half beg, and half demand, respectfully,\\nThe hand of his fair daughter Bellanaine\\nAn audience had, and speeching done, they gain\\nTheir point, and bring the weeping bride away\\nWhom, with but one attendant, safely lain\\nUpon their wings, they bore in bright array,\\nWhile little harps were touch d by many a lyric\\nfay.\\nAs in old pictures tender cherubim\\nA child s soul thro the sapphired canvas bear,\\nSo, thro a real heaven, on they swim\\nWith the sweet princess on her plumaged lair,\\nSpeed giving to the winds her lustrous hair\\nAnd so she journey d, sleeping or awake,\\nSave when, for healthful exercise and air,\\nShe chose to promener a I aile, or take\\nA pigeon s somerset, for sport or change s sake.\\nDear Princess, do not whisper me so loud,\\nQuoth Corallina, nurse and confidant,\\nDo not you see there, lurking in a cloud,\\nClose at your back, that sly old Craf ticant\\nHe hears a whisper plainer than a rant\\nDry up your tears, and do not look so blue\\nHe s Elfinan s great state-spy militant.\\nHe s running, lying, flying footman, too\\nDear mistress, let him have no handle against\\nyou", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0401.jp2"}, "402": {"fulltext": "384 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nVII\\nShow him a mouse s tail, and he will guess,\\nWith metaphysic swiftness, at the mouse\\nShow him a garden, and with speed no less,\\nHe 11 surmise sagely of a dwelling-house,\\nAnd plot, in the same minute, how to chouse\\nThe owner out of it show him a Peace\\nPeace nor contrive thy mistress ire to rouse\\nReturn d the princess, my tongue shall not cease\\nTill from this hated match I get a free release.\\nVIII\\nAh, beauteous mortal Hush quoth Cor-\\nalline,\\nReally you must not talk of him indeed.\\nYou hush replied the mistress, with a shine\\nOf anger in her eyes, enough to breed\\nIn stouter hearts than nurse s fear and dread\\nT was not the glance itself made nursey flinch,\\nBut of its threat she took the utmost heed\\nNot liking in her heart an hour-long pinch,\\nOr a sharp needle run into her back an inch.\\nIX\\nSo she was silenced, and fair Bellanaine,\\nWrithing her little body with ennui,\\nContinued to lament and to complain.\\nThat Fate, cross-purposing, should let her be\\nRavish d away, far from her dear countree\\nThat all her feelings should be set at nought.\\nIn trumping up this match so hastily.\\nWith lowland blood and lowland blood she\\nthought\\nPoison, as every stanch true-born Imaian ought.\\nX\\nSorely she grieved, and wetted three or four\\nWhite Provence rose-leaves with her faery tears.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0402.jp2"}, "403": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 385\\nBut not for this cause alas she had more\\nBad reasons for her sorrow, as appears\\nIn the famed memoirs of a thousand years,\\nWritten by Crafticant, and published\\nBy Parpaglion and Co., (those sly compeers\\nWho raked up ev ry fact against the dead,)\\nIn Scarab Street, Panthea, at the Jubal s Head.\\nWhere, after a long hypercritic howl\\nAgainst the vicious manners of the age.\\nHe goes on to expose, with heart and soul.\\nWhat vice in this or that year was the rage,\\nBackbiting all the world in every page\\nWith special strictures on the horrid crime,\\n(Section d and subsection d with learning sage,)\\nOf faeries stooping on their wings sublime\\nTo kiss a mortal s lips, when such were in their\\nprime.\\nTurn to the copious index, you will find\\nSomewhere in the column, headed letter B,\\nThe name of Bellanaine, if you re not blind\\nThen pray refer to the text, and you will see\\nAn article made up of calumny\\nAgainst this highland princess, rating her\\nFor giving way, so over fashionably.\\nTo this new-fangled vice, which seems a burr\\nStuck in his moral throat, no coughing e er could\\nstir.\\nXIII\\nThere he says plainly that she loved a man\\nThat she around him flutter d, flirted, toy d.\\nBefore her marriage with great Elfinan\\nThat after marriage too, she never joy d\\nIn husband s company, but still employ d\\nHer wits to scape away to Angle-land", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0403.jp2"}, "404": {"fulltext": "386 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nWhere lived the youth, who worried and annoy d\\nHer tender heart, and its warm ardours fann d\\nTo such a dreadful blaze, her side would scorch her\\nhand.\\nXIV\\nBut let us leave this idle tittle-tattle\\nTo waiting-maids, and bed-room coteries,\\nNor till fit time against her fame wage battle.\\nPoor Elfinan is very ill at ease,\\nLet us resume his subject if you please\\nFor it may comfort and console him much,\\nTo rhyme and syllable his miseries\\nPoor Elfinan whose cruel fate was such.\\nHe sat and cursed a bride he knew he could not\\ntouch.\\nXV\\nSoon as (according to his promises)\\nThe bridal embassy had taken wing.\\nAnd vanish d, bird-like, o er the suburb trees.\\nThe emperor, empierced with the sharp sting\\nOf love, retired, vex d and murmuring\\nLike any drone shut from the fair bee-queen,\\nInto his cabinet, and there did fling\\nHis limbs upon the sofa, full of spleen.\\nAnd damn d his House of Commons, in complete cha-\\ngrin.\\nXVI\\nI ll trounce some of the members, cried the\\nPrince,\\nI 11 put a mark against some rebel names,\\nI ll make the Opposition-benches wince,\\nI 11 show them very soon, to all their shames.\\nWhat tis to smother up a Prince s flames\\nThat ministers should join in it, I own.\\nSurprises me they too at these high games!\\nAm I an Emperor Do I wear a crown\\nImperial Elfinan, go hang thyself or drown", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0404.jp2"}, "405": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 387\\nXVII\\nI 11 trounce em there s the square-cut chan-\\ncellor,\\nHis son shall never touch that bishopric\\nAnd for the nephew of old Palfior,\\nI 11 show him that his speeches made me sick,\\nAnd give the colonelcy to Phalaric\\nThe tiptoe marquis, moral and gallant,\\nShall lodge in shabby taverns upon tick\\nAnd for the Speaker s second cousin s aunt.\\nShe sha n t be maid of honour, by heaven that she\\nsha n t\\nXVIII\\nT 11 shirk the Duke of A. I 11 cut his brother\\nI 11 give no garter to his eldest son\\nI won t speak to his sister or his mother\\nThe Viscount B. shall live at cut-and-run\\nBut how in the world can I contrive to stun\\nThat fellow s voice, which plagues me worse than\\nany,\\nThat stubborn fool, that impudent state-dun.\\nWho sets down ev ry sovereign as a zany,\\nThat vulgar commoner. Esquire Biancopany\\nMonstrous affair Pshaw pah what ugly\\nminx\\nWill they fetch from Imaus for my bride\\nAlas 1 my wearied heart within me sinks,\\nTo think that I must be so near allied\\nTo a cold dullard fay, ah, woe betide\\nAh, fairest of all human loveliness\\nSweet Bertha what crime can it be to glide\\nAbout the fragrant plaitings of thy dress,\\nOr kiss thine eye, or count thy locks, tress after\\ntress", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0405.jp2"}, "406": {"fulltext": "388 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nSo said, one minute s while his eyes remain d\\nHalf lidded, piteous, languid, innocent\\nBut, in a wink, their splendour they regain d,\\nSparkling revenge with amorous fury blent.\\nLove thwarted in bad temper oft has vent\\nHe rose, he stampt his foot, he rang the bell,\\nAnd order d some death-warrants to be sent\\nFor signature somewhere the tempest fell,\\nAs many a poor fellow does not live to tell.\\nXXI\\nAt the same time, Eban, (this was his page,\\nA fay of colour, slave from top to toe,\\nSent as a present, while yet under age,\\nFrom the Viceroy of Zanguebar, wise, slow.\\nHis speech, his only words were yes and no,\\nBut swift of look, and foot, and wing was he,)\\nAt the same time, Eban, this instant go\\nTo Hum the soothsayer, whose name I see\\nAmong the fresh arrivals in our empery.\\nXXII\\nBring Hum to me! But stay here take my\\nring.\\nThe pledge of favour, that he not suspect\\nAny foul play, or awkward murdering\\nTho I have bow strung many of his sect\\nThrow in a hint, that if he should neglect\\nOne hour the next shall see him in my grasp.\\nAnd the next after that shall see him neck d,\\nOr swallow d by my hunger-starved asp,\\nAnd mention tis as well) the torture of the wasp.\\nThese orders given, the Prince, in half a pet,\\nLet o er the silk his propping elbow slide,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0406.jp2"}, "407": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 389\\nCaught up his little legs, and, in a fret,\\nFell on the sofa on his royal side,\\nThe slave retreated backwards, humble-eyed,\\nAnd with a slave-like silence closed the door,\\nAnd to old Hum thro street and alley hied\\nHe knew the city, as we say, of yore,\\nAnd for short cuts and turns, w^as nobody knew\\nmore.\\nXXIV\\nIt was the time when wholesale dealers close\\nTheir shutters with a moody sense of wealth,\\nBut retail dealers, diligent, let loose\\nThe gas (objected to on score of health),\\nConvey d in little solder d pipes by stealth,\\nAnd make it flare in many a brilliant form,\\nThat all the powers of darkness it repell th.\\nWhich to the oil-trade doth great scaith and harm,\\nAnd supersedeth quite the use of the glow-worm.\\nEban, untempted by the pastry-cooks,\\n(Of pastry he got store within the palace,)\\nWith hasty steps, wrapp d cloak, and solemn looks,\\nIncognito upon his errand sallies.\\nHis smelling-bottle ready for the allies\\nHe pass d the hurdy-gurdies with disdain,\\nVowing he d have them sent on board the gal\\nleys;\\nJust as he made his vow, it gan to rain.\\nTherefore he call d a coach, and bade it drive amain.\\nI ll pull the string, said he, and further said,\\nPolluted Jarvey Ah, thou filthy hack\\nWhose springs of life are all dried up and dead.\\nWhose linsey-woolsey lining hangs all slack,\\nWhose rug is straw, whose wholeness is a crack", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0407.jp2"}, "408": {"fulltext": "390 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nAnd evermore thy steps go clatter-clitter\\nWhose glass once up can never be got back,\\nWho prov st, with jolting arguments and bitter,\\nThat t is of modern use to travel in a litter.\\nThou inconvenience thou hungry crop\\nFor all corn thou snail-creeper to and fro,\\nWho while thou goest ever seem st to stop,\\nAnd fiddle-faddle standest while you go\\nI the morning, freighted with a weight of woe,\\nUnto some lazar-house thou journeyest,\\nAnd in the evening tak st a double row\\nOf dowdies for some dance or party drest,\\nBesides the goods meanwhile thou movest east and\\nwest.\\nXXVIII\\nBy thy ungallant bearing and sad mien,\\nAn inch appears the utmost thou couldst budge\\nYet at the slightest nod, or hint, or sign,\\nRound to the curb- stone patient dost thou trudge,\\nSchool d in a beckon, learned in a nudge,\\nA dull-eyed Argus watching for a fare\\nQuiet and plodding thou dost bear no grudge\\nTo whisking tilburies, or phaetons rare,\\nCurricles, or mail-coaches, swift beyond compare.\\nPhilosophizing thus, he pull d the check.\\nAnd bade the coachman wheel to such a street,\\nWho turning much his body, more his neck,\\nLouted full low, and hoarsely did him greet\\nCertes, Monsieur were best take to his feet.\\nSeeing his servant can no farther drive\\nFor press of coaches, that to-night here meet.\\nMany as bees about a straw-capp d hive,\\nWhen first for April honey into faint flowers they\\ndive.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0408.jp2"}, "409": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 391\\nXXX\\nEban then paid his fare, and tiptoe went\\nTo Hum s hotel and, as he on did pass\\nWith head inclined, each dusky lineament\\nShow d in the pearl-paved street as in a glass\\nHis purple vest, that ever peeping was\\nRich from the fluttering crimson of his cloak,\\nHis silvery trowsers, and his silken sash\\nTied in a burnish d knot, their semblance took\\nUpon the mirror d walls, wherever he might look.\\nXXXI\\nHe smiled at self, and, smiling, show d his teeth,\\nAnd seeing his white teeth, he smiled the more\\nLifted his eyebrows, spurn d the path beneath,\\nShow d teeth again, and smiled as heretofore.\\nUntil he knock d at the magician s door\\nWhere, till the porter answer d, might be seen.\\nIn the clear panel more he could adore,\\nHis turban wreathed of gold, and white, and\\ngreen,\\nMustachios, ear-ring, nose-ring, and his sabre keen.\\nDoes not your master give a rout to-night\\nQuoth the dark page Oh, no return d the\\nSwiss,\\nNext door but one to us, upon the right.\\nThe Magazin des Modes now open is\\nAgainst the Emperor s wedding and, sir, this\\nMy master finds a monstrous horrid bore\\nAs he retired, an hour ago iwis,\\nWith his best beard and brimstone, to explore\\nAnd cast a quiet figure in his second floor.\\nXXXIII\\nGad he s obliged to stick to business\\nFor chalk, I hear, stands at a pretty price", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0409.jp2"}, "410": {"fulltext": "392 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nAnd as for aqua vitae there s a mess\\nThe denies sapientice of mice\\nOur barber tells me too are on the rise,\\nTinder s a lighter article, nitre pure\\nGoes off like lightning, grains of Paradise\\nAt an enormous figure stars not sure\\nZodiac will not move without a slight douceur\\nXXXIV\\nVenus won t stir a peg without a fee.\\nAnd master is too partial entre nous\\nTo\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Hush hush! cried Eban, sure that\\nis he\\nComing downstairs, by St. Bartholomew 1\\nAs backwards as he can, is t something new\\nOr is t his custom, in the name of fun\\nHe always comes down backward, with one\\nshoe\\nReturn d the porter off, and one shoe on,\\nLike, saving shoe for sock or stocking, my mad\\nJohn\\nXXXV\\nIt was indeed the great Magician,\\nFeeling, with careful toe, for every stair.\\nAnd retrograding careful as he can.\\nBackwards and downwards from his own two\\npair:\\nSalpietro exclaimed Hum, is the dog there\\nHe s always in my way upon the mat\\nHe s in the kitchen, or the Lord knows\\nwhere,\\nReplied the Swiss, the nasty, yelping brat\\nDon t beat him return d Hum, and on the floor\\ncame pat.\\nXXXVI\\nThen facing right about, he saw the Page,\\nAnd said Don t tell me what you want, Eban", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0410.jp2"}, "411": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 393\\nThe Emperor is now in a huge rage,\\nTis nine to one he ll give you the rattan\\nLet us away Away together ran\\nThe plain-dress d sage and spangled blackamoor,\\nNor rested till they stood to cool, and fan,\\nAnd breathe themselves at th Emperor s chamber\\ndoor.\\nWhen Eban thought he heard a soft imperial snore.\\nXXXVII\\nI thought you guess d, foretold, or prophesied,\\nThat s Majesty was in a raving fit?\\nHe dreams, said Hum, or I have ever lied.\\nThat he is tearing you, sir, bit by bit.\\n*He s not asleep, and you have little wit,\\nReplied the Page, that little buzzing noise,\\nWhate er your palmistry may make of it.\\nComes from a plaything of the Emperor s choice.\\nFrom a Man-Tiger-Organ, prettiest of his toys.\\nXXXVIII\\nEban then usher d in the learned Seer\\nElfinan s back was turn d, but, ne ertheless,\\nBoth, prostrate on the carpet, ear by ear,\\nCrept silently, and waited in distress,\\nKnowing the Emperor s moody bitterness\\nEban especially, who on the floor gan\\nTremble and quake to death, he feared less\\nA dose of senna-tea, or nightmare Gorgon,\\nThan the Emperor when he play d on his Man-Tiger-\\nOrgan.\\nThey kiss d nine times the carpet s velvet face\\nOf glossy silk, soft, smooth, and meadow-green.\\nWhere the close eye in deep rich fur might trace\\nA silver tissue, scantly to be seen.\\nAs daisies lurk d in June-grass, buds in green", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0411.jp2"}, "412": {"fulltext": "394 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nSudden the music ceased, sudden the hand\\nOf majesty, by dint of passion keen,\\nDoubled into a common fist, went grand,\\nAnd knock d down three cut glasses, and his best\\nink-stand.\\nThen turning round, he saw those trembling two\\nEban, said he, as slaves should taste the fruits\\nOf diligence, I shall remember you\\nTo-morrow, or next day, as time suits,\\nIn a finger conversation with my mutes,\\nBegone for you, Chaldean here remain\\nFear not, quake not, and as good wine recruits\\nA conjurer s spirits, what cup will you drain?\\nSherry in silver, hock in gold, or glass d cham-\\npagne\\nCommander of the Faithful answer d Hum,\\nIn preference to these, I 11 merely taste\\nA thimble-full of old Jamaica rum,\\nA simple boon said Elfinan, thou may st\\nHave Nantz, with which my morning-coffee s\\nlaced, 1\\nI 11 have a glass of Nantz, then, said the\\nSeer,\\nMade racy (sure my boldness is misplaced\\nWith the third part (yet that is drinking\\ndear\\nOf the least drop of creme de citron crystal clear.\\nXLII\\nI pledge you. Hum and pledge my dearest love,\\nMy Bertha Bertha Bertha I cried the sage,\\nMr, Nisby is of opinion that laced coffee is bad for the head.\\nSpectator.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0412.jp2"}, "413": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 395\\nI know a many Berthas Mine s above\\nAll Berthas sighed the Emperor. I engage,\\nSaid Hum, ia duty, and in vassalage,\\nTo mention all the Berthas in the earth\\nThere s Bertha Watson, and Miss Bertha\\nPage,\\nThis famed for languid eyes, and that for mirth,\\nThere s Bertha Blount of York, and Bertha Knox\\nof Perth.\\nYou seem to know I do know, answer d\\nHum,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2Your Majesty s in love with some fine girl\\nNamed Bertha but her surname will not come,\\nWithout a little conjuring. T is Pearl,\\nTis Bertha Pearl What makes my brain so\\nwhirl V\\nAnd she is softer, fairer than her name\\nWhere does she live ask d Hum. Her fair\\nlocks curl\\nSo brightly, they put all our fays to shame\\nLive O at Canterbury, with her old grand\\ndame.\\nGood good cried Hum, I ve known her\\nfrom a child\\nShe is a changeling of my management\\nShe was born at midnight in an Indian wild\\nHer mother s screams with the striped tiger s\\nblent.\\nWhile the torch-bearing slaves a halloo sent\\nInto the jungles and her palanquin,\\nRested amid the desert s dreariment,\\nShook with her agony, till fair were seen\\nThe little Bertha s eyes ope on the stars serene,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0413.jp2"}, "414": {"fulltext": "396 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nI can t say, said the monarch, that may be\\nJust as it happen d, true or else a bam\\nDrink up your brandy, and sit down by me,\\nFeel, feel my pulse, how much in love I am\\nAnd if your science is not all a sham,\\nTell me some means to get the lady here.\\nUpon my honour said the son of Cham.i\\nShe is my dainty changeling, near and dear.\\nAlthough her story sounds at first a little queer.\\nConvey her to me, Hum, or by my crown,\\nMy sceptre, and my cross-surmounted globe,\\nI ll knock you Does your majesty mean\\ndown f\\nNo, no, you never could my feelings probe\\nTo such a depth The Emperor took his robe,\\nAnd wept upon its purple palatine,\\nWhile Hum continued, shamming half a sob,\\nIn Canterbury doth your lady shine\\nBut let me cool your brandy with a little wine.\\nXLVII\\nWhereat a narrow Flemish glass he took,\\nThat since belong d to Admiral De Witt,\\nAdmired it with a connoisseuring look.\\nAnd with the ripest claret crowned it,\\nAnd, ere the lively head could burst and flit,\\nHe turn d it quickly, nimbly upside down,\\nHis mouth being held conveniently fit\\nTo catch the treasure Best in all the town\\nHe said, smack d his moist lips, and gave a pleasant\\nfrown.\\n1 Cham is said to have been the inventor of magic. Lucy learnt\\nthis from Bayle s Dictionary, and had copied a long Latin note from\\nthat work.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0414.jp2"}, "415": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 397\\nXLVIII\\nAh good my Prince, weep not And then\\nagain\\nHe fill d a bumper. Great Sire, do not weep\\nYour pulse is shocking, but I ll ease your pain.\\nFetch me that Ottoman, and prithee keep\\nYour voice low, said the Emperor, and steep\\nSome lady s-fingers nice in Candy wine\\nAnd prithee. Hum, behind the screen do peep\\nFor the rose-water vase, magician mine\\nAnd sponge my forehead so my love doth make\\nme pine.\\nXLIX\\nAh, cursed Bellanaine Don t think of her,\\nRejoin d the Mago, but on Bertha muse\\nFor, by my choicest best barometer,\\nYou shall not throttled be in marriage noose\\nI ve said it. Sire you only have to choose\\nBertha or Bellanaine. So saying, he drew\\nFrom the left pocket of his threadbare hose,\\nA sampler hoarded slyly, good as new\\nHolding it by his thumb and finger full in view.\\nSire, this is Bertha Pearl s neat handywork,\\nHer name, see here. Midsummer, ninety -one\\nElfinan snatch d it with a sudden jerk,\\nAnd wept as if he never would have done.\\nHonouring with royal tears the poor homespun\\nWhereon were broider d tigers with black eyes,\\nAnd long-tailed pheasants, and a rising sun,\\nPlenty of posies, great stags, butterflies\\nBigger than stags a moon with other mysteries.\\nThe monarch handled o er and o er again\\nThese day-school hieroglyphics with a sigh", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0415.jp2"}, "416": {"fulltext": "398 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nSomewhat in sadness, but pleased in the main,\\nTill this oracular couplet met his eye\\nAstounded Cupid, I do thee defy\\nIt was too much. He shrunk back in his chair,\\nGrew pale as death and fainted very nigh\\nPho nonsense exclaim d Hum, now don t\\ndespair\\nShe does not mean it really. Cheer up, hearty\\nthere\\nAnd listen to my words. You say you won t,\\nOn any terms, marry Miss Bellanaine\\nIt goes against your conscience good 1 well,\\ndon t.\\nYou say, you love a mortal. I would fain\\nPersuade your honour s highness to refrain\\nFrom peccadilloes. But, Sire, as I say,\\nWhat good would that do And, to be more\\nplain,\\nYou would do me a mischief some odd day.\\nCut off my ears and hands, or head too, by my fay\\nBesides, manners forbid that I should pass any\\nVile strictures on the conduct of a prince\\nWho should indulge his genius, if he has any,\\nNot, like a subject, foolish matter mince.\\nNow I think on t, perhaps I could convince\\nYour Majesty there is no crime at all\\nIn loving pretty little Bertha, since\\nShe s very delicate not over tall,\\nA fairy s hand, and in the waist why very small.\\nEing the repeater, gentle Hum T is five,\\nSaid gentle Hum the nights draw in apace\\nThe little birds I hear are all alive", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0416.jp2"}, "417": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 399\\nI see the dawning touch d upon your face\\nShall I put out the candles, please your Grace\\nDo put them out, and, without more ado,\\nTell me how I may that sweet girl embrace,\\nHow you can bring her to me. That s for you.\\nGreat Emperor 1 to adventure, like a lover true.\\nLV\\nI fetch her Yes, an t like your Majesty\\nAnd as she would be frighten d wide awake,\\nTo travel such a distance through the sky,\\nUse of some soft manoeuvre you must make.\\nFor your convenience, and her dear nerves sake\\nNice Way would be to bring her in a swoon,\\nAnon, I 11 tell you what course were best to take\\nYou must away this morning. Hum so soon\\nSire, you must be in Kent by twelve o clock at\\nnoon.\\nAt this great Csesar started on his feet.\\nLifted his wings, and stood attentivewise.\\nThose wings to Canterbury you must beat,\\nIf you hold Bertha as a worthy prize.\\nLook in the Almanack Moore never lies\\nApril the twenty-fourth this coming day.\\nNow breathing its new bloom upon the skies,\\nWill end in St. Mark s Eve you must away,\\nFor on that eve alone can you the maid convey.\\nLVII\\nThen the magician solemnly gan to frown,\\nSo that his frost- white eye-brows, beetling low,\\nShaded his deep green eyes, and wrinkles brown\\nPlaited upon his furnace -scorched brow\\nForth from his hood that hung his neck below\\nHe lifted a bright casket of pure gold,\\nTouch d a spring-lock, and there in wool or snow,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0417.jp2"}, "418": {"fulltext": "400 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nCharm d into ever freezing, lay an old\\nAnd legend- leaved book, mysterious to behold.\\nLVIII\\nTake this same book it will not bite you, Sire\\nThere, put it underneath your royal arm\\nThough it s a pretty weight, it will not tire,\\nBut rather on your journey keep you warm\\nThis is the magic, this the potent charm,\\nThat shall drive Bertha to a fainting fit\\nWhen the time comes, don t feel the least alarm\\nBut lift her from the ground, and swiftly flit\\nBack to your palace\\nLIX\\nWhat shall I do with that same book Why\\nmerely\\nLay it on Bertha s table, close beside\\nHer work-box, and t will help your purpose\\ndearly\\nI say no more. Or good or ill betide.\\nThrough the wide air to Kent this morn I glide\\nExclaim d the Emperor, When I return.\\nAsk what you will, I 11 give you my new\\nbride\\nAnd take some more wine. Hum O, Heavens!\\nI burn\\nTo be upon the wing 1 Now, now, that minx I\\nspurn\\nLX\\nLeave her to me, rejoin d the magian\\nBut how shall I account, illustrious fay\\nFor thine imperial absence Pho I can\\nSay you are very sick, and bar the way\\nTo your so loving courtiers for one day\\nIf either of their two Archbishops graces", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0418.jp2"}, "419": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 401\\nShould talk of extreme unction, I shall say\\nYou do not like cold pig with Latin phrases,\\nWhich never should be used but in alarming cases.\\nLXI\\nOpen the window. Hum I m ready now\\nZooks exclaim d Hum, as up the sash he drew,\\nBehold, your Majesty, upon the brow\\nOf yonder hill, what crowds of people Whew\\nThe monster s always after something new,\\nReturn d his Highness, they are piping hot\\nTo see my pigsney Bellanaine. Hum do\\nTighten my belt a little, so, so, not\\nToo tight, the book my wand so, nothing\\nis forgot.\\nWounds how they shout said Hum, and\\nthere, see, see,\\nTh ambassador s return d from Pigmio\\nThe morning s very fine, uncommonly\\nSee, past the skirts of yon white cloud they go,\\nTinging it with soft crimsons Now below\\nThe sable -pointed heads of firs and pines\\nThey dip, move on, and with them moves a glow\\nAlong the forest side Now amber lines\\nReach the hill top, and now throughout the valley\\nshines.\\nWhy, Hum, you re getting quite poetical\\nThose nows you managed in a special style.\\nIf ever you have leisure. Sire, you shall\\nSee scraps of mine will make it worth your while,\\nTit-bits for Phoebus yes, you well may smile.\\nHark hark the bells A little further yet,\\nGood Hum, and let me view this mighty coil.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0419.jp2"}, "420": {"fulltext": "402 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nThen the great Emperor full graceful set\\nHis elbow for a prop, and snuff d his mignonette.\\nLXIV\\nThe morn is full of holiday loud bells\\nWith rival clamors ring from every spire\\nCunningly-station d music dies and swells\\nIn echoing places when the winds respire,\\nLight flags stream out like gauzy tongues of fire\\nA metropolitan murmur, lifeful, warm.\\nComes from the northern suburbs rich attire\\nFreckles with red and gold the moving swarm\\nWhile here and there clear trumpets blow a keen\\nalarm.\\nLXV\\nAnd now the fairy escort was seen clear,\\nLike the old pageant of Aurora s train,\\nAbove a pearl-built minster, hovering near\\nFirst wily Crafticant, the chamberlain.\\nBalanced upon his gray-grown pinions twain,\\nHis slender wand officially reveal d\\nThen black gnomes scattering sixpences like rain\\nThen pages three and three and next, slave-held\\nThe Imaian scutcheon bright, one mouse in ar-\\ngent field.\\nLXVI\\nGentlemen pensioners next and after them,\\nA troop of winged Janizaries flew\\nThen slaves, as presents bearing many a gem\\nThen twelve physicians fluttering two and two\\nAnd next a chaplain in a cassock new\\nThen Lords in waiting then (what head not reels\\nFor pleasure the fair Princess in full view,\\nBorne upon wings, and very pleased she feels\\nTo have such splendour dance attendance at her\\nheels.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0420.jp2"}, "421": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 403\\nLXVII\\nFor there was more magnificence behind\\nShe waved her handkerchief. Ah, very grand\\nCried Elfinan, and closed the window-blind\\nAnd, Hum, we must not shilly-shally stand,\\nAdieu adieu I m off for Angle-land\\nI say, old Hocus, have you such a thing\\nAbout you, feel your pockets, I command,\\nI want, this instant, an invisible ring,\\nThank you, old mummy now securely I take\\nwing.\\nLXVIII\\nThen Elfinan swift vaulted from the floor,\\nAnd lighted graceful on the window-sill\\nUnder one arm the magic book he bore,\\nThe other he could wave about at will\\nPale was his face, he stiil look d very ill\\nHe bow d at Bellanaine, and said Poor Bell\\nFarewell farewell and if for ever still\\nFor ever fare thee well and then he fell\\nA laughing snapp d his fingers shame it is to\\ntell!\\nLXIX\\nBy r Lady he is gone cries Hum, and I,\\n(I own it), have made too free with his wine\\nOld Crafticant will smoke me. By-the-bye 1\\nThis room is full of jewels as a mine,\\nDear valuable creatures, how ye shine\\nSometime to-day I must contrive a minute,\\nIf Mercury propitiously incline.\\nTo examine his scrutoire, and see what s in it.\\nFor of superfluous diamonds I as well may thin it.\\nThe Emperor s horrid bad yes, that s my cue\\nSome histories say that this was Hum s last\\nspeech", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0421.jp2"}, "422": {"fulltext": "404 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nThat, being fuddled, he went reeling through\\nThe corridor, and scarce upright could reach\\nThe stair-head that being glutted as a leech,\\nAnd used, as we ourselves have just now said,\\nTo manage stairs reversely, like a peach\\nToo ripe, he fell, being puzzled in his head\\nWith liquor and the staircase verdict found stone\\ndead.\\nThis, as a falsehood, Crafticanto treats\\nAnd as his style is of strange elegance,\\nGentle and tender, full of soft conceits,\\n(Much like our Boswell s,) we will take a glance\\nAt his sweet prose, and, if we can, make dance\\nHis woven periods into careless rhyme\\nO, little faery Pegasus rear prance\\nTrot round the quarto ordinary time\\nMarch, little Pegasus, with pawing hoof sublime\\nLXXII\\nWell, let us see, tentti hook and chapter nine,\\nThus Crafticant pursues his diary\\nT was twelve o clock at night, the weather fine.\\nLatitude thirty-six our scouts descry\\nA flight of starlings making rapidly\\nTowards Thibet. Mem. birds fly in the night\\nFrom twelve to half-past wings not fit to fly\\nFor a thick fog the Princess sulky quite\\nCaird for an extra shawl, and gave her nurse a bite.\\nFive minutes before one brought down a moth\\nWith my new double-barrel stew d the thighs.\\nAnd made a very tolerable broth\\nPrincess turn d dainty, to our great surprise,\\nAlter d her mind, and thought it very nice\\nSeeing her pleasant, tried her with a pun,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0422.jp2"}, "423": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 405\\nShe frown d a monstrous owl across us flies\\nAbout this time, a sad old figure of fun\\nBad omen this new match can t be a happy one.\\nFrom two to half-past, dusky way we made,\\nAbove the plains of Gobi, desert, bleak\\nBeheld afar off, in the hooded shade\\nOf darkness, a great mountain (strange to speak),\\nSpitting, from forth its sulphur-baken peak,\\nA fan-shaped burst of blood -red, arrowy fire,\\nTurban d with smoke, which still away did reek.\\nSolid and black from that eternal pyre.\\nUpon the laden winds that scan tly could respire,\\nLXXV\\nJust upon three o clock, a falling star\\nCreated an alarm among our troop,\\nKill d a man-cook, a page, and broke a jar,\\nA tureen, and three dishes, at one swoop.\\nThen passing by the Princess, singed her hoop\\nCould not conceive what Coralline was at.\\nShe clapp d her hands three times, and cried out\\nWhoop\\nSome strange Imaian custom. A large bat\\nCame sudden fore my face, and brush d against my\\nhat.\\nFive minutes thirteen seconds after three,\\nFar in the west a mighty fire broke out,\\nConjectured, on the instant, it might be\\nThe city of Balk twas Balk beyond all doubt\\nA griffin, wheeling here and there about.\\nKept reconnoitering us doubled our guard\\nLighted our torches, and kept up a shout,\\nTill he sheer d off the Princess very scared\\nAnd many on their marrow-bones for death prepared.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0423.jp2"}, "424": {"fulltext": "4o6 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nLXXVII\\nAt half -past three arose the cheerful moon\\nBivoiiack d for four minutes on a cloud\\nWhere from the earth we heard a lively tune\\nOf tambourines and pipes, severe and loud,\\nWhile on a flowery lawn a brilliant crowd\\nCinque -parted danced, some half asleep reposed\\nBeneath the green-faned cedars, some did shroud\\nIn silken tents, and mid light fragrance dozed,\\nOr on the open turf their soothed eyelids closed.\\nDropp d my gold watch, and kill d a kettle-\\ndrum\\nIt went for apoplexy foolish folks\\nLeft it to pay the piper a good sum\\n(I ve got a conscience, maugre people s jokes,)\\nTo scrape a little favour gan to coax\\nHer Highness pug-dog got a sharp rebuff\\nShe wish d a game at whist made three re-\\nvokes\\nTurn d from myself, her partner, in a huff\\nHis Majesty will know her temper time enough.\\nShe cried for chess I play d a game with her\\nCastled her king with such a vixen look,\\nIt bodes ill to his Majesty (refer\\nTo the second chapter of my fortieth book,\\nAnd see what hoity-toity airs she took).\\nAt half-past four the morn essay d to beam\\nSaluted, as we pass d, an early rook,\\nThe Princess fell asleep, and, in her dream,\\nTalk d of one Master Hubert, deep in her esteem.\\nAbout this time making delightful way\\nShed a quill-feather from my larboard wing\\ni", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0424.jp2"}, "425": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 407\\nWish d, trusted, hoped t was no sign of decay\\nThank Heaven, I m hearty yet t was no such\\nthing\\nAt five the golden light began to spring,\\nWith fiery shudder through the bloomed east\\nAt six we heard Panthea s churches ring\\nThe city all his unhived swarms had cast,\\nTo watch our grand approach, and hail us as we\\npass d.\\nAs flowers turn their faces to the sam,\\nSo on our flight with hungry eyes they gaze.\\nAnd, as we shaped our course, this, that way run,\\nWith mad-cap pleasure, or hand-clasp d amaze\\nSweet in the air a mild-toned music plays,\\nAnd progresses through its own labyrinth\\nBuds gather d from the green spring s middle-\\ndays,\\nThey scatter d daisy, primrose, hyacinth\\nOr round white columns wreathed from capital to\\nplinth.\\nOnward we floated o er the panting streets,\\nThat seem d throughout with upheld faces paved\\nLook where we will, our bird s-eye vision meets\\nLegions of holiday bright standards waved,\\nAnd fluttering ensigns emulously craved\\nOur minute s glance a busy thunderous roar,\\nI From square to square, among the buildings\\nraved.\\nAs when the sea, at flow, gluts up once more\\nThe craggy hoUowness of a wild-reefed shore.\\nAnd Bellanaine for ever shouted they\\nWhile that fair Princess, from her winged chair,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0425.jp2"}, "426": {"fulltext": "4o8 THE CAP AND BELLS\\nBow d low with high demeanour, and, to pay\\nTheir new-blown loyalty with guerdon fair.\\nStill emptied, at meet distance, here and there,\\nA plenty horn of jewels. And here I\\n(Who wish to give the devil her due) declare\\nAgainst that ugly piece of calumny.\\nWhich calls them Highland pebble-stones not worth\\na fly.\\nLXXXIV\\nStill Bellanaine they shouted, while we glide\\nSlant to a light Ionic portico,\\nThe city s delicacy, and the pride\\nOf our Imperial Basilic a row\\nOf lords and ladies, on each hand, make show\\nSubmissive of knee-bent obeisance,\\nAll down the steps and, as we enter d, lo\\nThe strangest sight the most unlook d-for\\nchance\\nAll things turn d topsy-turvy in a devil s dance.\\nLXXXV\\nStead of his anxious Majesty and court\\nAt the open doors, with wide saluting eyes.\\nCongees and scrape-graces of every sort,\\nAnd all the smooth routine of gallantries.\\nWas seen, to our immoderate surprise,\\nA motley crowd thick gather d in the hall,\\nLords, scullions, deputy-scullions, with wild cries\\nStunning the vestible from wall to wall.\\nWhere the Chief Justice on his knees and hands doth\\ncrawl.\\nLXXXVI\\nCounts of the palace, and the state purveyor\\nOf moth s-down, to make soft the royal beds,\\nThe Common Council and my fool Lord Mayor\\nMarching a-row, each other slipshod treads", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0426.jp2"}, "427": {"fulltext": "THE CAP AND BELLS 409\\nPowder d bag-wigs and ruffy-tuffy heads\\nOf cinder wenches meet and soil each other\\nToe crush d with heel ill-natured fighting breeds,\\nFrill-rumpling elbows brew up many a bother,\\nAnd fists in the short ribs keep up the yell and\\npother.\\nA Poet, mounted on the Court-Clown s back,\\nRode to the Princess swift with spurring heels,\\nAnd close into her face, with rhyming clack,\\nBegan a Prothalamion she reels,\\nShe falls, she faints while laughter peals\\nOver her woman s weakness. Where cried I,\\nWhere is his Majesty No person feels\\nInclined to answer wherefore instantly\\nI plunged into the crowd to find him or to die.\\nJostling my way I gain d the stairs, and ran\\nTo the first landing, where, incredible\\nI met, far gone in liquor, that old man,\\nThat vile impostor Hum,\\nSo far so well,\\nFor we have proved the Mago never fell\\nDown stairs on Crafticanto s evidence\\nAnd therefore duly shall proceed to tell,\\nPlain in our own original mood and tense.\\nThe sequel of this day, though labour t is immense", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0427.jp2"}, "428": {"fulltext": "410 THE LAST SONNET\\nTHE LAST SONNET\\nBright star, would I were steadfast as thou art\\nNot in lone splendour liung aloft the night,\\nAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,\\nLike Nature s patient sleepless Eremite,\\nThe moving waters at their priestlike task\\nOf pure ablution round earth s human shores\\nOr gazing on the new soft fallen mask\\nOf snow upon the mountains and the moors\\nNo yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,\\nPillow d upon my fair love s ripening breast,\\nTo feel for ever its soft fall and swell,\\nAwake for ever in a sweet unrest.\\nStill, still to hear her tender-taken breath.\\nAnd so live ever or else swoon to death.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0428.jp2"}, "429": {"fulltext": "SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nThe collection which follows is not intended to be taken\\nexactly as containing the leavings of Keats s genius there\\nare verses in the previous groups which might be placed\\nhere, if the intention was to make a marked division be-\\ntween his well-defined poetry and his experiments and mere\\nscintillations doubtless, too, on any such principle it\\nwould be just to take back into the respectability of larger\\ntype some of the lines here included. But it seemed wise\\nto put into a subordinate group the poet s fragmentary and\\nposthumous poems, and those which were plainly the mere\\nplaythings of his muse.\\nI. HYPERION: A VISION\\n[*An attempt at remodelling the fragment of Hyperion\\ninto the form of a vision.\\nCANTO I\\nFanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave\\nA paradise for a sect the savage, too,\\nFrom forth the loftiest fashion of his sleep\\nGuesses at heaven pity these have not\\nTrao dupon vellum or wild Indian leaf\\nThe shadows of melodious utterance.\\nBut bare of laurel they live, dream, and die\\nFor Poesy alone can tell her dreams,\\nWith the fine spell of words alone can save\\nImagination from the sable chain lo\\nAnd dumb enchantment. Who alive can say,\\nThou art no Poet may st not tell thy dreams\\nSince every man whose soul is not a clod\\nHath visions and would speak, if he had loved,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0429.jp2"}, "430": {"fulltext": "412 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nAnd been well nurtured in his mother tongue.\\nWhether the dream now purpos d to rehearse\\nBe poet s or fanatic s will be known\\nWhen this warm scribe, my hand, is in the grave.\\nMethought I stood where trees of every clime,\\nPalm, myrtle, oak, and sycamore, and beech, 2c\\nWith plantane and spice-blossoms, made a screen.\\nIn neighbourhood of fountains (by the noise\\nSoft-showering in mine ears), and (by the touch\\nOf scent) not far from roses. Twining round\\nI saw an arbour with a drooping roof\\nOf trellis vines, and bells, and larger blooms,\\nLike floral censers, swinging light in air\\nBefore its wreathed doorway, on a mound\\nOf moss, was spread a feast of summer fruits,\\nWhich, nearer seen, seem d refuse of a meal_ 30\\nBy angel tasted or our Mother Eve\\nFor empty shells were scatter d on the grass,\\nAnd grapestalks but half -bare, and remnants more\\nSweet-smelling, whose pure kinds I could not know.\\nStill was more plenty than the fabled horn\\nThrice emptied could pour forth at banqueting,\\nFor Proserpine return d to her own fields,\\nWhere the white heifers low. And appetite,\\nMore yearning than on earth I ever felt,\\nGrowing within, I ate deliciously, 4\u00c2\u00b0\\nAnd, after not long, thirsted for thereby\\nStood a cool vessel of transparent juice\\nSipp d by the wander d bee, the which I took,\\nAnd pledging all the mortals of the world.\\nAnd all the dead whose names are in our lips.\\nDrank. That full draught is parent of my theme.\\nNo Asian poppy nor elixir fine\\nOf the soon fading, jealous Caliphat,\\nNo poison gender d in close monkish cell.\\nTo thin the scarlet conclave of old men, 50\\nCould so have rapt unwilling life away.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0430.jp2"}, "431": {"fulltext": "HYPERION: A VISION 413\\nAmong the fragrant husks and berries crush d\\nUpon the grass, I struggled hard against\\nThe domineering potion, but in vain.\\nThe cloudy swoon came on, and down I sank,\\nLike a Silenus on an antique vase.\\nHow long I slumber d t is a chance to guess.\\nWhen sense of life return d, I started up\\nAs if with wings, but the fair trees were gone,\\nThe mossy mound and arbour were no more 60\\nI look d around upon the curved sides\\nOf an old sanctuary, with roof august,\\nBuilded so high, it seem d that filmed clouds\\nMight spread beneath as o er the stars of heaven.\\nSo old the place was, I remember d none\\nThe like upon the earth what I had seen\\nOf grey cathedrals, buttress d walls, rent towers.\\nThe superannuations of sunk realms.\\nOr Nature s rocks toil d hard in waves and winds,\\nSeem d but the faulture of decrepit things 70\\nTo that eternal domed monument.\\nUpon the marble at my feet there lay\\nStore of strange vessels and large draperies,\\nWhich needs had been of dyed asbestos wove,\\nOr in that place the moth could not corrupt,\\nSo white the linen, so, in some, distinct\\nRan imageries from a sombre loom.\\nAll in a mingled heap confus d there lay\\nRobes, golden tongs, censer and chafing-dish,\\nGirdles, and chains, and holy jewelries. 80\\nTurning from these with awe, once more I raised\\nMy eyes to fathom the space every way\\nThe embossed roof, the silent massy range\\nOf columns north and south, ending in mist\\nOf nothing then to eastward, where black gates\\nWere shut against the sunrise evermore\\nThen to the west I look d, and saw far off\\nAn image, huge of feature as a cloud.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0431.jp2"}, "432": {"fulltext": "414 SUPPLEMENTARY VI;RSE\\nAt level of whose feet an altar slept,\\nTo be approach d on either side by steps 90\\nAnd marble balustrade, and patient travail\\nTo count with toil the innumerable degrees.\\nToward the altar sober-pac d I went,\\nRepressing haste as too unholy there\\nAnd, coming nearer, saw beside the shrine\\nOne ministering and there arose a flame\\nWhen in mid-day the sickening east-wind\\nShifts sudden to the south, the small warm rain\\nMelts out the frozen incense from all flowers.\\nAnd fills the air with so much pleasant health 100\\nThat even the dying man forgets his shroud\\nEven so that lofty sacrificial fire,\\nSending forth Maian incense, spread around\\nForgetfulness of everything but bliss,\\nAnd clouded all the altar with soft smoke\\nFrom whose white fragrant curtains thus I heard\\nLanguage pronounc d If thou canst not ascend\\nThese steps, die on that marble where thou art.\\nThy flesh, near cousin to the common dust,\\nWill parch for lack of nutriment thy bones no\\nWill wither in few years, and vanish so\\nThat not the quickest eye could find a grain\\nOf what thou now art on that pavement cold.\\nThe sands of thy short life are spent this hour,\\nAnd no hand in the universe can turn\\nThy hourglass, if these gummed leaves be burnt\\nEre thou canst mount up these immortal steps.\\nI heard, I look d two senses both at once,\\nSo fine, so subtle, felt the tyranny\\nOf that fierce threat and the hard task proposed. 120\\nProdigious seem d the toil the leaves were yet\\nBurning, when suddenly a palsied chill\\nStruck from the paved level up my limbs,\\nAnd was ascending quick to put cold grasp\\nUpon those streams that pulse beside the throat.\\nI shriek d, and the sharp anguish of my shriek", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0432.jp2"}, "433": {"fulltext": "HYPERION: A VISION 415\\nStung my own ears I strove hard to escape\\nThe numbness, strove to gain the lowest step.\\nSlow, heavy, deadly was my pace the cold\\nGrew stifling, suffocating at the heart 130\\nAnd when I clasp d my hands I felt them not.\\nOne minute before death my ic d foot touch d\\nThe lowest stair and, as it touch d, life seem d\\nTo pour in at the toes, I mounted up\\nAs once fair angels on a ladder flew\\nFrom the green turf to heaven. Holy Power,\\nCried I, approaching near the horned shrine,\\nWhat am I that should so be saved from death\\nWhat am I that another death come not\\nTo choke my utterance, sacrilegious, here 140\\nThen said the veiled shadow Thou hast felt\\nWhat t is to die and live again before\\nThy fated hour that thou hadst power to do so\\nIs thine own safety thou hast dated on\\nThy doom. High Prophetess, said I, purge off\\nBenign, if so it please thee, my mind s film.\\nNone can usurp this height, return d that shade,\\nBut those to whom the miseries of the world\\nAre misery, and will not let them rest.\\nAll else who find a haven in the world, 150\\nWhere they may thoughtless sleep away their days,\\nIf by a chance into this fane they come,\\nRot on the pavement where thou rottedst half.\\nAre there not thousands in the world, said I,\\nEncourag d by the sooth voice of the shade,\\nWho love their fellows even to the death,\\nWho feel the giant agony of the world,\\nAnd more, like slaves to poor humanity,\\nLabour for mortal good I sure should see\\nOther men here, but I am here alone. i6o\\nThose whom thou spakest of are no visionaries,\\nRejoin d that voice they are no dreamers weak;\\nThey seek no wonder but the human face,\\nNo music but a happy-noted voice", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0433.jp2"}, "434": {"fulltext": "4i6 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nThey come not here, they have no thought to come\\nAnd thou art here, for thou art less than they.\\nWhat benefit canst thou do, or all thy tribe,\\nTo the great world Thou art a dreaming thing,\\nA fever of thyself think of the earth\\nWhat bliss, even in hope, is there for thee 170\\nWhat haven every creature hath its home,\\nEvery sole man hath days of joy and pain,\\nWhether his labours be sublime or low\\nThe pain alone, the joy alone, distinct\\nOnly the dreamer venoms all his days.\\nBearing more woe than all his sins deserve.\\nTkerefore, that happiness be somewhat shared,\\nSuch things as thou art are admitted oft\\nInto like gardens thou didst pass erewhile.\\nAnd suff er d in these temples for that cause 180\\nThou standestsafe beneath this statue s knees.\\nThat I am favour d for unworthiness.\\nBy such propitious parley medicined\\nIn sickness not ignoble, I rejoice.\\nAye, and could weep for love of such award.\\nSo answer d I, continuing, If it please.\\nMajestic shadow, tell me where I am.\\nWhose altar this, for whom this incense curls\\nWhat image this whose face I cannot see\\nFor the broad marble knees and who thou art, 190\\nOf accent feminine so courteous\\nThen the tall shade, in drooping linen veil d.\\nSpoke out, so much more earnest, that her breath\\nStirr d the thin folds of gauze that drooping hung\\nAbout a golden censer from her hand\\nPendent and by her voice I knew she shed\\nLong-treasured tears. This temple, sad and lone.\\nIs all spar d from the thunder of a war\\nFoughten long since by giant hierarchy\\nAgainst rebellion this old image here, 200", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0434.jp2"}, "435": {"fulltext": "HYPERION: A VISION 417\\nWhose carved features wrinkled as he fell,\\nIs Saturn s I, Moneta, left supreme,\\nSole goddess of this desolation.\\nI had no words to answer, for my tongue,\\nUseless, could find about its roofed home\\nNo syllable of a fit majesty\\nTo make rejoinder to Moneta s mourn\\nThere was a silence, while the altar s blaze\\nWas fainting for sweet food. I look d thereon,\\nAnd on the paved floor, where nigh were piled 210\\nFaggots of cinnamon, and many heaps\\nOf other crisped spicewood then again\\nI look d upon the altar, and its horns\\nWhiten d with ashes, and its languorous flame,\\nAnd then upon the offerings again\\nAnd so, by turns, till sad Moneta cried\\nThe sacrifice is done, but not the less\\nWill I be kind to thee for thy good will.\\nMy power, which to me is still a curse,\\nShall be to thee a wonder for the scenes 220\\nStill swooning vivid through my globed brain,\\nWith an electral changing misery.\\nThou shalt with these dull mortal eyes behold\\nFree from all pain, if wonder pain thee not.\\nAs near as an immortal s sphered words\\nCould to a mother s soften were these last\\nAnd yet I had a terror of her robes.\\nAnd chiefly of the veils that from her brow\\nHung pale, and curtain d her in mysteries.\\nThat made my heart too small to hold its blood. 230\\nThis saw that Goddess, and with sacred hand\\nParted the veils. Then saw I a wan face,\\nNot pin d by human sorrows, but bright-blanch d\\nBy an immortal sickness which kills not\\nIt works a constant change, which happy death\\nCan put no end to death wards progressing\\nTo no death was that visage it had past\\nThe lily and the snow and beyond these", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0435.jp2"}, "436": {"fulltext": "4i8 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nI must not think now, though I saw that face.\\nBut for her eyes I should have fled away 240\\nThey held me back with a benignant light,\\nSoft, mitigated by divinest lids\\nHalf-clos d, and visionless entire they seem d\\nOf all external things they saw me not,\\nBut in blank splendour beam d, like the mild moon,\\nWho comforts those she sees not, who knows not\\nWhat eyes are upward cast. As I had found\\nA grain of gold upon a mountain s side,\\nAnd, twing d with avarice, strain d out my eyes\\nTo search its sullen entrails rich with ore, 250\\nSo, at the view of sad Moneta s brow,\\nI ask d to see what things the hollow brow\\nBehind environ d what high tragedy\\nIn the dark secret chambers of her skull\\nWas acting, that could give so dread a stress\\nTo her cold lips, and fill with such a light\\nHer planetary eyes, and touch her voice\\nWith such a sorrow Shade of Memory J\\nCried I, with act adorant at her feet,\\nBy all the gloom hung round thy fallen house, 26c-\\nBy this last temple, by the golden age.\\nBy great Apollo, thy dear foster-child.\\nAnd by thyself, forlorn divinity,\\nThe pale Omega of a wither d race.\\nLet me behold, according as thou saidst,\\nWhat in thy brain so ferments to and fro\\nNo sooner had this conjuration past\\nMy devout lips, than side by side we stood\\n(Like a stunt bramble by a solemn pine)\\nDeep in the shady sadness of a vale 270\\nFar sunken from the healthy breath of morn,\\nFar from the fiery noon and eve s one star.\\nOnward I look d beneath the gloomy boughs,\\nAnd saw what first I thought an image huge.\\nLike to the image pedestall d so high\\nIn Saturn s temple then Moneta s voice", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0436.jp2"}, "437": {"fulltext": "HYPERION: A VISION 419\\nCame brief upon mine ear. So Saturn sat\\nWhen he had lost his reahns whereon there grew\\nA power within me of enormous ken\\nTo see as a god sees, and take the depth 280\\nOf things as nimbly as the outward eye\\nCan size and shape pervade. The lofty theme\\nOf those few words hung vast before my mind\\nWith half-unraveird web. I sat myself\\nUpon an eagle s watch, that I might see,\\nAnd seeing ne er forget. No stir of life\\nWas in this shrouded vale, not so much air\\nAs in the zoning of a summer s day\\nRobs not one light seed from the feather d grass\\nBut where the dead leaf fell there did it rest. 290\\nA stream went noiseless by, still deaden d more\\nBy reason of the fallen divinity\\nSpreading more shade the Naiad mid her reeds\\nPrest her cold finger closer to her lips.\\nAlong the margin-sand large foot-marks went\\nNo further than to where old Saturn s feet\\nHad rested, and there slept how long a sleep\\nDegraded, cold, upon the sodden ground\\nHis old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,\\nUnsceptred, and his realmless eyes were closed 300\\nWhile his bowed head seem d listening to the Earth,\\nHis ancient mother, for some comfort yet.\\nIt seem d no force could wake him from his place;\\nBut there came one who, with a kindred hand,\\nTouch d his wide shoulders, after bending low\\nWith reverence, though to one who knew it not.\\nThen came the grieved voice Mnemosyne,\\nAnd griev d I hearken d. That divinity\\nWhom thou saw st step from yon forlornest wood,\\nAnd with slow pace approach our fallen king, 310\\nIs Thea, softest-natured of our brood.\\nI mark d the Goddess, in fair statuary", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0437.jp2"}, "438": {"fulltext": "420 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nSurpassing wan Moneta by the head,\\nAnd in her sorrow nearer woman s tears.\\nThere was a list ning fear in her regard,\\nAs if calamity had but begun\\nAs if the venom d cloud of evil days\\nHad spent their malice, and the sullen rear\\nWas with its stored thunder labouring up.\\nOne hand she press d upon that aching spot 320\\nWhere beats the human heart, as if just there,\\nThough an immortal, she felt cruel pain\\nThe other upon Saturn s bended neck\\nShe laid, and to the level of his ear\\nLeaning, with parted lips some words she spoke\\nIn solemn tenour and deep organ-tone\\nSome mourning words, which in our feeble tongue\\nWould come in this like accenting how frail\\nTo that large utterance of the early gods\\nSaturn, look up and for what, poor lost king\\nI have no comfort for thee no, not one 331\\nI cannot say, wherefore thus sleepest thou\\nFor Heaven is parted from thee, and the Earth\\nKnows thee not, so aMcted, for a god.\\nThe Ocean, too, with all its solemn noise.\\nHas from thy sceptre pass d and all the air\\nIs emptied of thy hoary majesty. f\\nThy thunder, captious at the new command,\\nRumbles reluctant o er our fallen house\\nAnd thy sharp lightning, in unpractis d hands, 340\\nScourges and burns our once serene domain.\\nWith such remorseless speed still come new\\nwoes,\\nThat unbelief has not a space to breathe.\\nSaturn sleep on me thoughtless, why should I\\nThus violate thy slumbrous solitude\\nWhy should I ope thy melancholy eyes\\nSaturn sleep on, while at thy feet I weep.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0438.jp2"}, "439": {"fulltext": "HYPERION: A VISION 421\\nAs when upon a tranced summer-night\\nForests, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,\\nDream, and so dream all night without a noise, 350\\nSave from one gradual solitary gust\\nSwelling upon the silence, dying off,\\nAs if the ebbing air had but one wave,\\nSo came these words and went the while in tears\\nShe prest her fair large forehead to the earth,\\nJust where her fallen hair might spread in curls,\\nA soft and silken net for Saturn s feet.\\nLong, long these two were postured motionless.\\nLike sculpture builded-up upon the grave\\nOf their own power. A long awful time 360\\nI look d upon them still they were the same\\nThe frozen God still bending to the earth,\\nAnd the sad Goddess weeping at his feet\\nMoneta silent. Without stay or prop\\nBut my own weak mortality, I bore\\nThe load of this eternal quietude.\\nThe unchanging gloom and the three fixed shapes\\nPonderous upon my senses, a whole moon\\nFor by my burning brain I measiu-ed sure\\nHer silver seasons shedded on the night, 370\\nAnd every day by day methought I grew\\nMore gaunt and ghostly. Oftentimes I pray d\\nIntense, that death would take me from the vale\\nAnd all its burthens gasping with despair\\nOf change, hour after hour I curs d myself,\\nUntil old Saturn rais d his faded eyes.\\nAnd look d around and saw his kingdom gone,\\nAnd all the gloom and sorrow of the place,\\nAnd that fair kneeling Goddess at his feet.\\nAs the moist scent of flowers, and grass, and\\nleaves 380\\nFills forest-dells with a pervading air.\\nKnown to the woodland nostril, so the words\\nOf Saturn fill d the mossy glooms around,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0439.jp2"}, "440": {"fulltext": "422 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nEven to the hollows of time-eaten oaks,\\nAnd to the windings of the foxes hole,\\nWith sad, low tones, while thus he spoke, and sent\\nStrange moanings to the solitary Pan.\\nMoan, brethren, moan, for we are swallow d up\\nAnd buried from all godlike exercise\\nOf influence benign on planets pale, 390\\nAnd peaceful sway upon man s harvesting,\\nAnd all those acts which Deity supreme\\nDoth ease its heart of love in. Moan and wail\\nMoan, brethren, moan for lo, the rebel spheres\\nSpin round the stars their ancient courses keep\\nClouds still with shadowy moisture haunt the earth,\\nStill suck their fill of light from sun and moon\\nStill buds the tree, and still the seashores murmur\\nThere is no death in all the universe,\\nNo smell of death. There shall be death. Moan,\\nmoan 400\\nMoan, Cybele, moan for thy pernicious babes\\nHave chang d a god into an aching palsy.\\nMoan, brethren, moan, for I have no strength left\\nWeak as the reed, weak, feeble as my voice.\\nOh Oh the pain, the pain of feebleness\\nMoan, moan, for still I thaw or give me help,\\nThrow down those imps, and give me victory.\\nLet me hear other groans, and trumpets blown\\nOf triumph calm, and hymns of festival.\\nFrom the gold peaks of heaven s high-piled clouds\\nVoices of soft proclaim, and silver stir 411\\nOf strings in hollow shells and there shall be\\nBeautiful things made new, for the surprise\\nOf the sky-children. So he feebly ceased.\\nWith such a poor and sickly-sounding pause,\\nMethought I heard some old man of the earth\\nBewailing earthly loss nor could my eyes\\nAnd ears act with that unison of sense\\nWhich marries sweet sound with the grace of form,\\nAnd dolorous accent from a tragic harp 420", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0440.jp2"}, "441": {"fulltext": "HYPERION: A VISION 423\\nWith large limb d visions. More I scrutinized.\\nStill fixt he sat beneath the sable trees,\\nWhose arms spread straggling in wild serpent forms,\\nWith leaves all hush d his awful presence there\\n(Now all was silent) gave a deadly lie\\nTo what I ere while heard only his lips\\nTrembled amid the white curls of his beard\\nThey told the truth, though round the snowy locks\\nHung nobly, as upon the face of heaven\\nA mid-day fleece of clouds. Thea arose 430\\nAnd stretcht her white arm through the hollow dark.\\nPointing somewhither whereat he too rose,\\nLike a vast giant, seen by men at sea\\nTo grow pale from the waves at dull midnight.\\nThey melted from my sight into the woods\\nEre I could turn, Moneta cried, These twain\\nAre speeding to the families of grief.\\nWhere, rooft in by black rocks, they waste in pain\\nAnd darkness, for no hope. And she spake on.\\nAs ye may read who can unwearied pass 440\\nOnward from the antechamber of this dream,\\nWhere, even at the open doors, awhile\\nI must delay, and glean my memory\\nOf her high phrase perhaps no further dare.\\nCANTO II\\nMortal, that thou may st understand aright,\\nI humanize my sayings to thine ear,\\nMaking comparisons of earthly things\\nOr thou might st better listen to the wind.\\nWhose language is to thee a barren noise,\\nThough it blows legend-laden thro the trees.\\nIn melancholy realms big tears are shed,\\nMore sorrow like to this, and such like woe,\\nToo huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe.\\nThe Titans fierce, self -hid or prison-bound, 10\\nGroan for the old allegiance once more,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0441.jp2"}, "442": {"fulltext": "424 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nListening in their doom for Saturn s voice.\\nBut one of the whole eagle-brood still keeps\\nHis sovereignty, and rule, and majesty\\nBlazing Hyperion on his orbed fire\\nStill sits, still snuffs the incense teeming up\\nFrom Man to the Sun s God yet insecure.\\nFor as upon the earth dire prodigies\\nFright and perplex, so also shudders he\\nNot at dog s howl or gloom-bird s hated screech, 20\\nOr the familiar visiting of one\\nUpon the first toll of his passing bell,\\nOr prophesyings of the midnight lamp\\nBut horrors, portioned to a giant nerve.\\nMake great Hyperion ache. His palace bright,\\nBastion d with pyramids of shining gold.\\nAnd touch d with shade of bronzed obelisks,\\nGlares a blood-red thro all the thousand courts,\\nArches, and domes, and fiery galleries\\nAnd all its curtains of Aurorian clouds 30\\nFlash angerly when he would taste the wreaths\\nOf incense breath d aloft from sacred hills.\\nInstead of sweets, his ample palate takes\\nSavour of poisonous brass and metals sick\\nWherefore when harbour d in the sleepy West,\\nAfter the full completion of fair day.\\nFor rest divine upon exalted couch.\\nAnd slumber in the arms of melody,\\nHe paces through the pleasant hours of ease,\\nWith strides colossal, on from hall to hall, 40\\nWhile far within each aisle and deep recess\\nHis winged minions in close clusters stand\\nAmaz d, and full of fear like anxious men,\\nWho on a wide plain gather in sad troops.\\nWhen earthquakes jar their battlements and towers.\\nEven now where Saturn, rous d from icy trance,\\nGoes step for step with Thea from yon woods,\\nHyperion, leaving twilight in the rear.\\nIs sloping to the threshold of the West.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0442.jp2"}, "443": {"fulltext": "FRAGMENTS 425\\nThither we tend. Now in clear light I stood, 50\\nReliev d from the dusk vale. Mnemosyne\\nWas sitting on a sqiiare-edg d polish d stone,\\nThat in its lucid depths reflected pure\\nHer priestess garments. My quick eyes ran on\\nFrom stately nave to nave, from vault to vault,\\nThrough bow rs of fragrant and enwreathed light,\\nAnd diamond-paved lustrous long arcades.\\nAnon rush d by the bright Hyperion\\nHis flaming robes stream d out beyond his heels,\\nAnd gave a roar as if of earthly fire, 6c\\nThat scar d away the meek ethereal hours,\\nAnd made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared.\\nII. FRAGMENTS\\nWhere s the Poet Show him show him,\\nMuses nine that I may know him 1\\nT is the man who with a man\\nIs an equal, be he King,\\nOr poorest of the beggar-clan,\\nOr any other wondrous thing\\nA man may be twixt ape and Plato\\nT is the man who with a bird.\\nWren, or Eagle, finds his way to\\nAll its instincts he hath heard\\nThe Lion s roaring, and can tell\\nWhat his horny throat expresseth,\\nAnd to him the Tiger s yell\\nComes articulate and presseth\\nOn his ear like mother-tongue.\\nII\\nMODERN LOVE\\nAnd what is love It is a doll dress d up\\nFor idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0443.jp2"}, "444": {"fulltext": "426 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nA thing of soft misnomers, so divine\\nThat silly youth doth think to make itself\\nDivine by loving, and so goes on\\nYawning and doting a whole summer long,\\nTill Miss s comb is made a pearl tiara,\\nAnd common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots\\nThen Cleopatra lives at number seven.\\nAnd Antony resides in Brunswick Square.\\nFools if some passions high have warm d the world,\\nIf Queens and Soldiers have play d deep for hearts.\\nIt is no reason why such agonies\\nShould be more common than the growth of weeds.\\nFools make me whole again that weighty pearl\\nThe Queen of Egypt melted, and I 11 say\\nThat ye may love in spite of beaver hats.\\nIll\\nFRAGMENT OF THE CASTLE BUILDER\\nTo-night I 11 have my friar let me think\\nAbout my room I 11 have it in the pink\\nIt should be rich and sombre, and the moon,\\nJust in its mid-life in the midst of June\\nShould look thro four large windows and display\\nClear, but for gold-fish vases in the way.\\nTheir glassy diamonding on Turkish floor\\nThe tapers keep aside, an hour and more,\\nTo see what else the moon alone can show\\nWhile the night-breeze doth softly let us know\\nMy terrace is well bower d with oranges.\\nUpon the floor the dullest spirit sees\\nA guitar-ribband and a lady s glove\\nBeside a crumple-leaved tale of love\\nA tambour-frame, with Venus sleeping there,\\nAll finish d but some ringlets of her hair\\nA viol, bow-strings torn, cross-wise upon\\nA glorious folio of Anacreon", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0444.jp2"}, "445": {"fulltext": "FRAGMENTS 427\\nA skull upon a mat of roses lying,\\nInk d purple with a song concerning dying\\nAn hour-glass on the turn, amid the trails\\nOf passion-flower just in time there sails\\nA cloud across the moon, the lights bring in I\\nAnd see what more my phantasy can win.\\nIt is a gorgeous room, but somewhat sad\\nThe draperies are so, as tho they had\\nBeen made for Cleopatra s winding-sheet\\nAnd opposite the stedfast eye doth meet\\nA spacious looking-glass, upon whose face,\\nIn letters raven-sombre, you may trace\\nOld Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin.\\nGreek busts and statuary have ever been\\nHeld, by the finest spirits, fitter far.\\nThan vase grotesque and Siamesian jar\\nTherefore t is sure a want of Attic taste\\nThat I should rather love a Gothic waste\\nOf eyesight on cinque-coloured potter s clay,\\nThan on the marble fairness of old Greece.\\nMy table -co verlits of Jason s fleece\\nAnd black Numidian sheep- wool should be wrought,\\nGold, black, and heavy, from the Lama brought.\\nMy ebon sofas should delicious be\\nWith down from Leda s cygnet progeny.\\nMy pictures all Salvator s, save a few\\nOf Titian s portraiture, and one, though new.\\nOf Haydon s in its fresh magnificence.\\nMy wine O good t is here at my desire,\\nAnd I must sit to supper with my friar.\\nIV\\nEXTRACTS FROM AN OPERA\\nO WERE I one of the Olympian twelve,\\nTheir godships should pass this into a law,\\nThat when a man doth set himself in toil", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0445.jp2"}, "446": {"fulltext": "428 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nAfter some beauty veiled far away,\\nEacli step he took should make his lady s hand\\nMore soft, more white, and her fair cheek more fair\\nAnd for each briar-berry he might eat,\\nA kiss should bud upon the tree of love,\\nAnd pulp and ripen richer every hour.\\nTo melt away upon the traveller s lips.\\nDAISY S SONG\\nThe sun, with his great eye,\\nSees not so much as I\\nAnd the moon, all silver-proud,\\nMight as well be in a cloud.\\nAnd O the spring the spring\\nI lead the life of a King\\nCouch d in the teeming grass,\\nI spy each pretty lass.\\nI look where no one dares.\\nAnd I stare where no one stares,\\nAnd when the night is nigh.\\nLambs bleat my lullaby.\\nFOLLY S SONG\\nWhen wedding fiddles are a-playing,\\nHuzza for folly O I\\nAnd when maidens go a- Maying,\\nHuzza, etc.\\nWhen a milk-pail is upset,\\nHuzza, etc.\\nAnd the clothes left in the wet,\\nHuzza, etc.\\nWhen the barrel s set abroach.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0446.jp2"}, "447": {"fulltext": "FRAGMENTS 429\\nHuzza, etc.\\nWhen Kate Eyebrow keeps a coach,\\nHuzza, etc.\\nWhen the pig is over-roasted,\\nHuzza, etc.\\nAnd the cheese is over-toasted.\\nHuzza, etc.\\nWhen Sir Snap is with his lawyer.\\nHuzza, etc.\\nAnd Miss Chip has kiss d the sawyer\\nHuzza, etc.\\nOh, I am frighten d with most hateful thoughts\\nPerhaps her voice is not a nightingale s.\\nPerhaps her teeth are not the fairest pearl\\nHer eye-lashes may be, for aught I know,\\nNot longer than the May -fly s small fanhorns\\nThere may not be one dimple on her hand\\nAnd freckles many ah a careless nurse,\\nIn haste to teach the little thing to walk.\\nMay have crumpt up a pair of Dian s legs,\\nAnd warpt the ivory of a Juno s neck.\\nSONG\\nThe stranger lighted from his steed.\\nAnd ere he spake a word,\\nHe seiz d my lady s lily hand.\\nAnd kiss d it all unheard.\\nThe stranger walk d into the hall,\\nAnd ere he spake a word.\\nHe kiss d my lady s cherry lips,\\nAnd kiss d em all unheard.\\nThe stranger walk d into the bower,\\nBut my lady first did go,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0447.jp2"}, "448": {"fulltext": "430 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nAy hand in hand into the bower,\\nWhere my Lord s roses blow.\\nMy lady s maid had a silken scarf,\\nAnd a golden ring had she,\\nAnd a kiss from the stranger, as off he went\\nAgain on his palfr ey.\\nAsleep O sleep a little while, white pearl\\nAnd let me kneel, and let me pray to thee,\\nAnd let me call Heaven s blessing on thine eyes,\\nAnd let me breathe into the happy air,\\nThat doth enfold and touch thee all about,\\nVows or my slavery, my giving up.\\nMy sudden adoration, my great love 1\\nIIL FAMILIAR VERSES\\nSTANZAS TO MISS WYLIE\\nO COME, Georgiana the rose is full blown.\\nThe riches of Flora are lavishly strown,\\nThe air is all softness, and crystal the streams\\nThe West is resplendently clothed in beams.\\nO come let us haste to the freshening shades,\\nThe quaintly carv d seats, and the opening glades\\nWhere the faeries are chanting their evening hymns.\\nAnd the last sun-beam the sylph lightly swims.\\nAnd when thou art weary, I 11 find thee a bed\\nOf mosses and flowers to pillow thy head\\nAnd there Georgiana I 11 sit at thy feet.\\nWhile my story of love I enraptur d repeat.\\nSo fondly I 11 breathe, and so softly I 11 sigh,\\nThou wilt think that some amorous zephyr is nigh", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0448.jp2"}, "449": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 431\\nYet no as I breathe I will press thy fair knee,\\nAnd then thou wilt know that the sigh comes from\\nme.\\nAh! why, dearest girl, should we lose all these blisses?\\nThat mortal s a fool who such happiness misses\\nSo smile acquiescence, and give me thy hand,\\nWith love-looking eyes, and with voice sweetly\\nbland.\\nEPISTLE TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS\\nDear Reynolds As last night I lay in bed,\\nThere came before my eyes that wonted thread\\nOf shapes, and shadows, and remembrances.\\nThat every other minute vex and please\\nThings all disjointed come from north and south,\\nTwo Witch s eyes above a Cherub s mouth,\\nVoltaire with casque and shield and habergeon,\\nAnd Alexander with his nightcap on\\nOld Socrates a-tying his cravat.\\nAnd Hazlitt playing with Miss Edgeworth s cat i\\nAnd Junius Brutus, pretty well so so,\\nMaking the best of s way towards Soho.\\nFew are there who escape these visitings,\\nPerhaps one or two whose lives have patent wings,\\nAnd thro whose curtains peeps no hellish nose,\\nNo wild-boar tushes, and no Mermaid s toes\\nBut flowers bursting out with lusty pride,\\nAnd young ^olian harps personify d\\nSome Titian colours touch d into real life,\\nThe sacrifice goes on the pontiff knife 2.\\nGleams in the Sun, the milk-white heifer lows,\\nThe pipes go shrilly, the libation flows:\\nA white sail shows above the green-head cliff,\\nMoves round the point, and throws her anchor stiff\\nThe mariners join hymn with those on land.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0449.jp2"}, "450": {"fulltext": "432 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nYou know the Enchanted Castle, it doth stand\\nUpon a rock, on the border of a Lake,\\nNested in trees, which all do seem to shake\\nFrom some old magic-like Urganda s sword.\\nO Phoebus that I had thy sacred word 30\\nTo show this Castle, in fair dreaming wise,\\nUnto my friend, while sick and ill he lies\\nYou know it well enough, where it doth seem\\nA mossy place, a Merlin s Hall, a dream\\nYou know the clear Lake, and the little Isles,\\nThe mountains blue, and cold near neighbour rills,\\nAll which elsewhere are but half animate\\nThere do they look alive to love and hate,\\nTo smiles and frowns they seem a lifted mound\\nAbove some giant, pulsing underground. 40\\nPart of the building was a chosen See,\\nBuilt by a banish d Santon of Chaldee\\nThe other part, two thousand years from him,\\nWas built by Cuthbert de Saint Aldebrim\\nThen there s a little wing, far from the Sun,\\nBuilt by a Lapland Witch turn d maudlin Nun\\nAnd many other juts of aged stone\\nFounded with many a mason-devil s groan.\\nThe doors all look as if they op d themselves\\nThe windows as if latch d by Fays and Elves, 50\\nAnd from them comes a silver flash of light,\\nAs from the westward of a Summer s night\\nOr like a beauteous woman s large blue eyesj\\nGone mad through olden songs and poesies.\\nSee what is coming from the distance dim j\\nA golden Galley all in silken trim\\nThree rows of oars are lightning, moment whiles\\nInto the verd rous bosoms of those isles\\nTowards the shade, under the Castle wall,\\nIt comes in silence, now t is hidden all. 60", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0450.jp2"}, "451": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 433\\nThe Clarion sounds, and from a Postern-gate\\nAn echo of sweet music doth create\\nA fear in the poor Herdsman who doth bring\\nHis beasts to trouble the enchanted spring,\\nHe tells of the sweet music, and the spot,\\nTo all his friends, and they believe him not.\\nO that our dreamings all, of sleep or wake,\\nWould all their colours from the sunset take\\nFrom something of material sublime.\\nRather than shadow our own soul s day-time 70\\nIn the dark void of night. For in the world\\nWe jostle, but my flag is not unfurl d\\nOn the Admiral-staff, and so philosophise\\nI dare not yet O, never will the prize,\\nHigh reason, and the love of good and ill,\\nBe my award Things cannot to the will\\nBe settled, but they tease us out of thought\\nOr is it imagination brought\\nBeyond its proper bound, yet still confin d,\\nLost in a sort of Purgatory blind, 80\\nCannot refer to any standard law\\nOf either earth or heaven It is a flaw\\nIn happiness, to see beyond our bourn.\\nIt forces us in summer skies to mourn.\\nIt spoils the singing of the Nightingale.\\nDear Reynolds I have a mysterious tale,\\nAnd cannot speak it the first page I read\\nUpon a Lampit rock of green sea- weed\\nAmong the breakers t was a quiet eve,\\nThe rocks were silent, the wide sea did weave 90\\nAn untumultuous fringe of silver foam\\nAlong the flat brown sand I was at home\\nAnd should have been most happy, but I saw\\nToo far into the sea, where every maw\\nThe greater on the less feeds evermore.\\nBut I saw too distinct into the core", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0451.jp2"}, "452": {"fulltext": "434 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nOf an eternal fierce destruction,\\nAnd so from happiness I far was gone.\\nStill am I sick of it, and tho to-day,\\nI ve gather d young spring-leaves, and flowers gay\\nOf periwinkle and wild straw^berry, loi\\nStill do I that most fierce destruction see,\\nThe Shark at savage prey, the Hawk at\\npounce,\\nThe gentle Robin, like a Pard or Ounce,\\nRavening a worm, Away, ye horrid moods\\nMoods of one s mind You know I hate them well.\\nYou know I d sooner be a clapping Bell\\nTo some Kamschatkan Missionary Church,\\nThan with these horrid moods be left i the lurch.\\nA DRAUGHT OF SUNSHINE\\nHence Burgundy, Claret, and Port,\\nAway with old Hock and Madeira,\\nToo earthly ye are for my sport\\nThere s a beverage brighter and clearer.\\nInstead of a pitiful rummer,\\nMy wine overbrims a whole summer\\nMy bowl is the sky.\\nAnd I drink at my eye,\\nTill I feel in the brain\\nA Delphian pain\\nThen follow, my Caius then follow\\nOn the green of the hill\\nWe will drink our fill\\nOf golden sunshine,\\nTill our brains intertwine\\nWith the glory and grace of Apollo\\nGod of the Meridian,\\nAnd of the East and West,\\nTo thee my soul is flown,\\nAnd my body is earthward press d.\\nIt is an awful mission,\\nA terrible division", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0452.jp2"}, "453": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 435\\nAnd leaves a gulf austere\\nTo be fill d with worldly fear.\\nAye, when the soul is fled\\nTo high above our head,\\nAffrighted do we gaze\\nAfter its airy maze,\\nAs doth a mother wild,\\nWhen her young infant child\\nIs in an eagle s claws\\nAnd is not this the cause\\nOf madness God of Song,\\nThou bearest me along\\nThrough sights I scarce can bear\\nO let me, let me share\\nWith the hot lyre and thee.\\nThe staid Philosophy.\\nTemper my lonely hours,\\nAnd let me see thy bowers\\nMore unalarm d\\nAT TEIGNMOUTH\\nHere all the summer could I stay,\\nFor there s Bishop s teign\\nAnd King s teign\\nAnd Coomb at the clear teign head-\\nWhere close by the stream\\nYou may have your cream\\nAll spread upon barley bread.\\nThere s arch Brook\\nAnd there s larch Brook\\nBoth turning many a mill\\nAnd cooling the drouth\\nOf the salmon s mouth\\nAnd fattening his silver gill.\\nThere is Wild wood,\\nA Mild hood", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0453.jp2"}, "454": {"fulltext": "436 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nTo the sheep on the lea o the down,\\nWhere the golden furze\\nWith its green, thin spurs,\\nDoth catch at the maiden s gown.\\nThere is Newton marsh\\nWith its spear grass harsh\\nA pleasant summer level\\nWhere the maidens sweet\\nOf the Market Street,\\nDo meet in the dusk to revel.\\nThere s the Barton rich\\nWith dyke and ditch\\nAnd hedge for the thrush to live in\\nAnd the hollow tree\\nFor the buzzing bee,\\nAnd a bank for the wasp to hive in.\\nAnd O, and O\\nThe daisies blow\\nAnd the primroses are waken d,\\nAnd the violets white\\nSit in silver plight.\\nAnd the green bud s as long as the spike end.\\nThen who would go\\nInto dark Soho,\\nAnd chatter with dack d hair d critics,\\nWhen he can stay\\nFor the new-mown hay,\\nAnd startle the dappled Prickets\\nTHE DEVON MAID\\nWhere be ye going, you Devon Maid\\nAnd what have ye there in the Basket\\nYe tight little fairy just fresh from the dairy.\\nWill ye give me some cream if I ask it", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0454.jp2"}, "455": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 437\\nI love your Meads, and I love your flowers,\\nAnd I love your junkets mainly,\\nBut hind the door I love kissing more,\\nO look not so disdainly.\\nI love your hills, and I love your dales,\\nAnd I love your flocks a-bleating\\nBut O, on the heather to lie together,\\nWith both our hearts a-beating\\nI 11 put your Basket all safe in a nook,\\nYour shawl I hang up on the willow,\\nAnd we will sigh in the daisy s eye\\nAnd kiss on a grass green pillow.\\nACROSTIC\\nGEORGIANA AUGUSTA KEATS\\nGive me your patience, sister, while I frame\\nExact in capitals your golden name\\nOr sue the fair Apollo and he will\\nRouse from his heavy slumber and instill\\nGreat love in me for thee and Poesy.\\nImagine not that greatest mastery\\nAnd kingdom over all the Realms of verse,\\nNears more to heaven in aught, than when we nurse\\nAnd surety give to love and Brotherhood.\\nAnthropophagi in Othello s mood\\nUlysses storm d and his enchanted belt\\nGlow with the Muse, but they are never felt\\nUnbosom d so and so eternal made.\\nSuch tender incense in their laurel shade\\nTo all the regent sisters of the Nine\\nAs this poor offering to you, sister mine.\\nKind sister ay, this third name says you are\\nEnchanted has it been the Lord knows where", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0455.jp2"}, "456": {"fulltext": "438 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nAnd may it taste to you like good old wine,\\nTake you to real happiness and give\\nSons, daughters and a home like honied hive.\\nMEG MERRILIES\\nOld Meg she was a Gipsy,\\nAnd liv d upon the Moors\\nHer bed it was the brown heath turf,\\nAnd her house was out of doors.\\nHer apples were swart blackberries,\\nHer currants pods o broom\\nHer wine was dew of the wild white rose,\\nHer book a churchyard tomb.\\nHer Brothers were the craggy hills,\\nHer Sisters larchen trees\\nAlone with her great family\\nShe liv d as she did please.\\nNo breakfast had she many a morn,\\nNo dinner many a noon,\\nAnd stead of supper she would stare\\nFull hard against the Moon.\\nBut every morn of woodbine fresh\\nShe made her garlanding,\\nAnd every night the dark glen Yew\\nShe wove, and she would sing.\\nAnd with her fingers old and brown\\nShe plaited Mats o Rushes,\\nAnd gave them to the Cottagers\\nShe met among the Bushes,\\nOld Meg was brave as Margaret Queen\\nAnd tall as Amazon", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0456.jp2"}, "457": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 439\\nAn old red blanket coat she wore\\nA chip hat had she on.\\nGod rest her aged bones somewhere\\nShe died full long agone\\nA SONG ABOUT MYSELF\\nTheke was a naughty Boy,\\nA naughty boy was he,\\nHe would not stop at home,\\nHe could not quiet be\\nHe took\\nIn his Knapsack\\nA Book\\nFull of vowels\\nAnd a shirt\\nWith some towels\\nA slight cap\\nFor night cap\\nA hair brush,\\nComb ditto,\\nNew Stockings,\\nFor old ones\\nWould split O\\nThis Knapsack,\\nTight at s back.\\nHe rivetted close\\nAnd follow d his Nose\\nTo the North,\\nTo the North,\\nAnd follow d his nose\\nTo the North.\\nThere was a naughty boy\\nAnd a naughty boy was he.\\nFor nothing would he do\\nBut scribble poetry\\nHe took\\nAn inkstand", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0457.jp2"}, "458": {"fulltext": "440 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nIn his hand,\\nAnd a Pen\\nBig as ten\\nIn the other,\\nAnd away\\nIn a Pother\\nHe ran\\nTo the mountains,\\nAnd fountains\\nAnd ghostes,\\nAnd Postes,\\nAnd witches,\\nAnd ditches.\\nAnd wrote\\nIn his coat,\\nWhen the weather\\nWas cool,\\nFear of gout.\\nAnd without\\nWhen the weather\\nWas warm\\nOch the charm\\nWhen we choose\\nTo follow one s nose\\nTo the north.\\nTo the north,\\nTo follow one s nose\\nTo the north.\\nThere was a naughty boy\\nAnd a naughty boy was he,\\nHe kept little fishes\\nIn washing tubs three\\nIn spite\\nOf the might\\nOf the Maid,\\nNor afraid\\nOf his Granny good\\nHe often would.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0458.jp2"}, "459": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 441\\nHurly burly,\\nGet up early,\\nAnd go\\nBy liook or crook\\nTo the brook,\\nAnd bring home\\nMiller s thumb,\\nTittlebat\\nNot over fat,\\nMinnows small\\nAs the stall\\nOf a glove.\\nNot above\\nThe size\\nOf a nice\\nLittle Baby s\\nLittle fingers\\nO, he made,\\nT was his trade.\\nOf Fish a pretty Kettle\\nA Kettle\\nA Kettle\\nOf Fish, a pretty Kettle,\\nA Kettle\\nThere was a naughty Boy,\\nAnd a naughty Boy was he,\\nHe ran away to Scotland\\nThe people for to see\\nThen he found\\nThat the ground\\nWas as hard,\\nThat a yard\\nWas as long,\\nThat a song\\nWas as merry,\\nThat a cherry\\nWas as red\\nThat lead", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0459.jp2"}, "460": {"fulltext": "442 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nWas as weighty,\\nThat fourscore\\nWas as eighty,\\nThat a door\\nWas as wooden\\nAs in England\\nSo he stood in his shoes\\nAnd he wonder d,\\nHe wonder d,\\nHe stood in his shoes\\nAnd he wonder d.\\nTO THOMAS KEATS\\nBelantbee (for Ballantree) July 10 [1818.]\\nAh ken ye what I met the day\\nOut oure the Mountains\\nA coming down by craggies gray\\nAn mossie fountains\\nAh goud-hair d Marie yeve I pray\\nAne minute s guessing\\nFor that I met upon the way\\nIs past expressing.\\nAs I stood where a rocky brig\\nA torrent crosses\\nI spied upon a misty rig\\nA troup o Horses\\nAnd as they trotted down the glen\\nI sped to meet them\\nTo see if I might know the Men\\nTo stop and greet them.\\nFirst Willie on his sleek mare came\\nAt canting gallop,\\nHis long hair rustled like a flame\\nOn board a shallop,\\nThen came his brother Rab and then\\nYoung Peggy s Mither", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0460.jp2"}, "461": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 443\\nAnd Peggy too adown the glen\\nThey went togither\\nI saw her wrappit in her hood\\nFrae wind and raining\\nHer cheek was flush wi timid blood\\nTwixt growth and waning\\nShe tiirn d her dazed eyes full oft\\nFor there her Brithers\\nCame riding with her Bridegroom soft\\nAnd mony ithers.\\nYoung Tarn came up and eyed me quick\\nWith reddened cheek\\nBraw Tom was daffed like a chick\\nHe couldna speak\\nAh, Marie, they are all gane hame\\nThrough blustering weather\\nAn every heart is full on flame\\nAn light as feather.\\nAh Marie, they are all gone hame\\nFrae happy wadding.\\nWhilst I Ah is it not a shame\\nSad tears am shedding.\\nTHE GADFLY\\nAll gentle folks who owe a grudge\\nTo any living thing\\nOpen your ears and stay your t(r)udge\\nWhilst I in dudgeon sing.\\nThe Gadfly he hath stung me sore\\nO may he ne er sting you\\nBut we have many a horrid bore,\\nHe may sting black and blue.\\nHas any here an old gray Mare\\nWith three legs all her store.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0461.jp2"}, "462": {"fulltext": "444 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nO put it to her Buttocks bare\\nAnd straight she 11 run on four.\\nHas any here a Lawyer suit\\nOf 1743,\\nTake Lawyer s nose and put it to t\\nAnd you the end will see.\\nIs there a Man in Parliament\\nDum(b)founder d in his speech,\\nO let his neighbour make a rent\\nAnd put one in his breech.\\nO Lowther how much better thou\\nHadst figur d t other day\\nWhen to the folks thou mad st a bow\\nAnd hadst no more to say.\\nIf lucky Gadfly had but ta en\\nHis seat\\nAnd put thee to a little pain\\nTo save thee from a worse.\\nBetter than Southey it had been,\\nBetter than Mr. D\\nBetter than Wordsworth, too, I ween,\\nBetter than Mr. V\\nForgive me, pray, good people all,\\nFor deviating so\\nIn spirit sure I had a call\\nAnd now I on will go.\\nHas any here a daughter fair\\nToo fond of reading novels,\\nToo apt to fall in love with care\\nAnd charming Mister Lovels,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0462.jp2"}, "463": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 445\\nput a Gadfly to that thing\\nShe keeps so white and pert\\n1 mean the finger for the ring,\\nAnd it will breed a wort.\\nHas any here a pious spouse\\nWho seven times a day\\nScolds as King David pray d, to chouse\\nAnd have her holy way\\nlet a Gadfly s little sting\\nPersuade her sacred tongue\\nThat noises are a common thing,\\nBut that her bell has rung.\\nAnd as this is the summum bo-\\nnum of all conquering,\\n1 leave withouten wordes mo\\nThe Gadfly s little sting.\\nON HEARING THE BAG-PIPE AND SEEING THE\\nSTRANGER PLAYED AT INVERARY\\nOf late two dainties were before me plac d\\nSweet, holy, pure, sacred and innocent.\\nFrom the ninth sphere to me benignly sent\\nThat Gods might know my own particular taste\\nFirst the soft Bag-pipe mourn d with zealous haste.\\nThe Stranger next with head on bosom bent\\nSigh d rueful again the piteous Bag-pipe went.\\nAgain the Stranger sighings fresh did waste.\\nO Bag-pipe, thou didst steal my heart away\\nO Stranger, thou my nerves from Pipe didst\\ncharm\\nO Bag-pipe thou didst re-assert thy sway\\nAgain thou. Stranger, gav st me fresh alarm\\nAlas I could not choose. Ah my poor heart\\nMum chance art thou with both oblig d to part.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0463.jp2"}, "464": {"fulltext": "446 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nLINES WRITTEN IN THE HIGHLANDS AFTER A\\nVISIT TO BURNS S COUNTRY\\nThere is a charm in footing slow across a silent\\nplain,\\nWhere patriot battle has been fought, where glory-\\nhad the gain\\nThere is a pleasure on the heath where Druids old\\nhave been,\\nWhere mantles gray have rustled by and swept the\\nnettles green\\nThere is Joy in every spot made known by times of\\nold,\\nNew to the feet, although each tale a hundred times\\nbe told\\nThere is a deeper Joy than all, more solemn in the\\nheart,\\nMore parching to the tongue than all, of more divine\\na smart,\\nWhen weary steps forget themselves upon a pleasant\\nturf,\\nUpon hot sand, or flinty road, or sea-shore iron scurf,\\nToward the Castle or the Cot, where long ago was\\nborn II\\nOne who was great through mortal days, and died\\nof fame unshorn.\\nLight heather-bells may tremble then, but they are\\nfar away\\nWood-lark may sing from sandy fern, the Sun\\nmay hear his Lay\\nRunnels may kiss the grass on shelves and shallows\\nclear.\\nBut their low voices are not heard, though come on\\ntravels drear\\nBlood-red the s\\\\m may set behind black mountain\\npeaks\\nBlue tides may sluice and drench their time in Caves\\nand weedy creeks", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0464.jp2"}, "465": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 447\\nEagles may seem to sleep wing- wide upon the Air\\nRing-doves may fly conviils d across to some higli-\\ncedar d lair 20\\nBut the forgotten eye is still fast lidded to the\\nground,\\nAs Palmer s, that with weariness, mid-desert shrine\\nhath found.\\nAt such a time the soul s a child, in childhood is\\nthe brain\\nForgotten is the worldly heart alone, it heats in\\nvain.\\nAye, if a Madman could have leave to pass a health-\\nful day\\nTo tell his forehead s swoon and faint when first\\nbegan decay,\\nHe might make tremble many a one whose spirit had\\ngone forth\\nTo find a Bard s low cradle-place about the silent\\nNorth.\\nScanty the hour and few the steps beyond the bourn\\nof Care,\\nBeyond the sweet and bitter world, beyond it\\nunaware 30\\nScanty the hour and few the steps, because a longer\\nstay\\nWould bar return, and make a man forget his mortal\\nway:\\nO horrible! to lose the sight of well remember d\\nface,\\nOf Brother s eyes, of Sister s brow constant to\\nevery place\\nFilling the Air, as on we move, with Portraiture\\nintense\\nMore warm than those heroic tints that pain a\\nPainter s sense.\\nWhen shapes of old come striding by, and visages\\nof old.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0465.jp2"}, "466": {"fulltext": "448 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nLocks shining black, liair scanty gray, and passions\\nmanifold.\\nNo, no, that horror cannot be, for at the cable s\\nlength\\nMan feels the gentle anchor pull and gladdens in its\\nstrength 40\\nOne hour, half-idiot, he stands by mossy water-fall.\\nBut in the very next he reads his soul s Memorial\\nHe reads it on the mountain s height, where chance\\nhe may sit down\\nUpon rough marble diadem that hill s eternal\\nCrown.\\nYet be his Anchor e er so fast, room is there for a\\nprayer\\nThat man may never lose his Mind on Mountains\\nblack and bare\\nThat he may stray league after league some great\\nbirthplace to find\\nAnd keep his vision clear from speck, his inward\\nsight unblind.\\nMRS. CAMERON AND BEN NEVIS\\nAfter all there was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age\\nand the fattest woman in all Inverness-shire who got up this\\nMountain some few years ago true she had her servants\\nbut then she had herself. She ought to have hired Sisyphus,\\nUp the high hill he heaves a huge round Mrs. Cam-\\neron. T is said a little conversation took place between the\\nmountain and the Lady. After taking a glass of Whisky as\\nshe was tolerably seated at ease she thus began\\nMRS. C.\\nUpon my life Sir Nevis I am piqued\\nThat I have so far panted tugg d and reek d\\nTo do an honor to your old bald pate\\nAnd now am sitting on you j ust to bait,\\nWithout your paying me one compliment.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0466.jp2"}, "467": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 449\\nAlas, t is so with all, when our intent\\nIs plain, and in the eye of all Mankind\\nWe fair ones show a preference, too blind\\nYou Gentle man immediately turn tail\\nlet me then my hapless fate bewail lo\\nUngrateful Baldpate have I not disdain d\\nThe pleasant Valleys have I not madbrain d\\nDeserted all my Pickles and preserves\\nMy China closet too with wretched Nerves\\nTo boot say, wretched ingrate, have I not\\nLeft my soft cushion chair and caudle pot\\nT is true I had no corns no thank the fates\\nMy Shoemaker was always Mr, Bates.\\nAnd if not Mr. Bates why I m not old\\nStill dumb ungrateful Nevis still so cold 20\\nHere the Lady took some more whisky and was putting\\neven more to her lips when she dashed it to the Ground,\\nfor the Moimtain began to grumble which continued for\\na few minutes before he thus began\\nBEN NEVIS\\nWhat whining bit of tongue and Mouth thus dares\\nDisturb my slumber of a thousand years\\nEven so long my sleep has been secure\\nAnd to be so awak d I 11 not endure.\\nOh pain for since the Eagle s earliest scream\\n1 ve had a damn d confounded ugly dream,\\nA Nightmare sure. What Madam, was it you\\nIt cannot be My old eyes are not true 1\\nRed-Crag, my Spectacles Now let me see\\nGood Heavens! Lady, how the gemini 30\\nDid you get here O, I shall split my sides\\nI shall earthquake\\nSweet Nevis do not quake, for though I love\\nYour honest Countenance all things above.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0467.jp2"}, "468": {"fulltext": "450 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nTruly I should not like to be convey d\\nSo far into your Bosom gentle Maid\\nLoves not too rough a treatment, gentle Sir\\nPray thee be calm and do not quake nor stir\\nNo, not a Stone, or I shall go in fits\\nBEN NEVIS\\nI must I shall I meet not such tit bits 40\\nI meet not such sweet creatures every day\\nBy my old nightcap night and day\\nI must have one sweet Buss I must and shall\\nRed Crag What Madam, can you then re-\\npent\\nOf all the toil and vigour you have spent\\nTo see Ben Nevis and to touch his nose\\nRed Crag I say O I must have them close\\nRed Crag, there lies beneath my farthest toe\\nA vein of Sulphur go, dear Red Crag, go\\nAnd rub your flinty back against it budge 50\\nDear Madam, I must kiss you, faith I must\\nI must embrace you with my dearest gust\\nBlock-head, d ye hear Block-head, I 11 make her\\nfeel.\\nThere lies beneath my east leg s northern heel\\nA cave of young earth dragons well my boy\\nGo thither quick and so complete my joy.\\nTake you a bundle of the largest pines.\\nAnd when the sun on fiercest Phosphor shines,\\nFire them and ram them in the Dragon s nest,\\nThen will the dragons fry and fizz their best 60\\nUntil ten thousand now no bigger than\\nPoor alligators poor things of one span\\nWill each one swell to twice ten times the size\\nOf northern whale then for the tender prize\\nThe moment then for then will Red Crag rub\\nHis flinty back and I shall kiss and snub\\nAnd press my dainty morsel to my breast.\\nBlock-head make haste", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0468.jp2"}, "469": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 451\\nO Muses, weep the rest\\nThe Lady fainted and he thought her dead\\nSo pulled the clouds again about his head 70\\nAnd went to sleep again soon she was rous d\\nBy her affrighted servants next day, hous d\\nSafe on the lowly ground she bless d her fate\\nThat fainting fit was not delayed too late.\\nBut what surprised me above all is how the lady got\\ndown again. I felt it horribly. T was the most vile de-\\nscent shook me all to pieces.\\nSHARING EVE S APPLE\\nO BLUSH not so O blush not so\\nOr I shall think you knowing\\nAnd if you smile the blushing while,\\nThen maidenheads are going.\\nThere s a blush for won t, and a blush for shan t,\\nAnd a blush for having done it\\nThere s a blush for thought and a blush for nought,\\nAnd a blush for just begun it.\\nO sigh not so O sigh not so\\nFor it sounds of Eve s sweet Pippin\\nBy these loosen d lips you have tasted the pips\\nAnd fought in an amorous nipping.\\nWill you play once more at nice-cut-core,\\nFor it only will last our youth out,\\nAnd we have the prime of the kissing time,\\nWe have not one sweet tooth out.\\nThere s a sigh for yes, and a sigh for no,\\nAnd a sigh for I can t bear it!\\nO what can be done, shall we stay or run\\nO cut the sweet apple and share it", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0469.jp2"}, "470": {"fulltext": "452 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nA PROPHECY\\nTO GEORGE KEATS IN AMERICA\\nT IS the witching time of night,\\nOrbed is the moon and bright,\\nAnd the Stars they glisten, glisten.\\nSeeming with bright eyes to listen.\\nFor what listen they\\nFor a song and for a charm,\\nSee they glisten in alarm,\\nAnd the Moon is waxing warm\\nTo hear what I shall say.\\nMoon keep wide thy golden ears\\nHearken, Stars and hearken, Spheres\\nHearken, thou eternal Sky\\nI sing an infant s Lullaby,\\nO pretty lullaby\\nListen, listen, listen, listen,\\nGlisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,\\nAnd hear my Lullaby\\nThough the Rushes, that will make\\nIts cradle, still are in the lake\\nThough the linen that will be\\nIts swathe, is on the cotton tree\\nThough the woollen that will keep\\nIt warm, is on the silly sheep\\nListen, Starlight, listen, listen.\\nGlisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,\\nAnd hear my lullaby\\nChild, I see thee Child, I ve found thee\\nMidst of the quiet all around thee\\nChild, I see thee Child, I spy thee 1\\nAnd thy mother sweet is nigh thee I\\nChild, I know thee Child no more,\\nBut a Poet evermore\\nSee, see, the Lyre, the Lyre,\\nIn a flame of fire,", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0470.jp2"}, "471": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 453\\nUpon the little cradle s top\\nFlaring, flaring, flaring,\\nPast the eyesight s bearing.\\nAwake it from its sleep,\\nAnd see if it can keep\\nIts eyes upon the blaze\\nAmaze, amaze\\nIt stares, it stares, it stares,\\nIt dares what no one dares\\nIt lifts its little hand into the flame\\nUnharm d, and on the strings\\nPaddles a little tune, and sings,\\nWith dumb endeavour sweetly\\nBard art thou completely 1\\nLittle child\\nO th western wild,\\nBard art thou completely\\nSweetly with dumb endeavour.\\nA poet now or never.\\nLittle child\\nO th western wild,\\nA Poet now or never\\nA LITLE EXTEMPORE\\nWhen they were come into the Faery s Court\\nThey rang no one at home all gone to sport\\nAnd dance and kiss and love as faeries do\\nFor Faeries be as humans lovers true.\\nAmid the woods they were so lone and wild.\\nWhere even the Robin feels himself exil d.\\nAnd where the very brooks, as if afraid,\\nHurry along to some less magic shade.\\nNo one at home the fretful Princess cry d\\nAnd all for nothing such a dreary ride,\\nAnd all for nothing my new diamond cross\\nNo one to see my Persian feathers toss.\\nNo one to see my Ape, my Dwarf, my Fool,\\nOr how I pace my Otaheitan mule.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0471.jp2"}, "472": {"fulltext": "454 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nApe, Dwarf, and Fool, why stand you gaping there,\\nBurst the door open, quick or I declare\\nI 11 switch you soundly and in pieces tear.\\nThe Dwarf began to tremble, and the Ape]\\nStar d at the F\u00c2\u00aeol, the Fool was all agape.\\nThe Princess grasp d her switch, but just in time 20\\nThe dwarf with piteous face began to rhyme.\\nO mighty Princess, did you ne er hear tell\\nWhat your poor servants know but too too well\\nKnow you the three great crimes in Faeryland\\nThe first, alas poor Dwarf, I understand,\\nI made a whipstock of a faery s wand\\nThe next is snoring in their company\\nThe next, the last, the direst of the three.\\nIs making free when they are not at home.\\nI was a Prince a baby prince my doom, 30\\nYou see, I made a whipstock of a wand.\\nMy top has henceforth slept in faery land.\\nHe was a Prince, the Fool, a grown-up Prince,\\nBut he has never been a King s son since\\nHe fell a snoring at a faery Ball.\\nYon poor Ape was a Prince, and he poor thing\\nPicklock d a faery s boudoir now no king\\nBut ape so pray your highness stay awhile,\\nT is sooth indeed, we know it to our sorrow\\nPersist and you may be an ape to-morrow. 40\\nWhile the Dwarf spake, the Princess, all for spite,\\nPeel d the brown hazel twig to lily white,\\nClench d her small teeth, and held her lips apart,\\nTry d to look unconcern d with beating heart.\\nThey saw her highness had made up her mind,\\nA-quavering like the reeds before the wind\\nAnd they had had it, but O happy chance\\nThe Ape for very fear began to dance\\nAnd grinn d as all his ugliness did ache\\nShe staid her vixen fingers for his sake, 50\\nHe was so very ugly then she took\\nHer pocket-mirror and began to look", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0472.jp2"}, "473": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 455\\nFirst at herself and then at him, and then\\nShe smil d at her own beauteous face again.\\nYet for all this for all her pretty face\\nShe took it in her head to see the place.\\nWomen gain little from experience\\nEither in Lovers, husbands, or expense.\\nThe more their beauty the more fortune too\\nBeauty before the wide world never knew 60\\nSo each fair reasons tho it oft miscarries.\\nShe thought her pretty face would please the faeries.\\nMy darling Ape, I wont whip you to-day,\\nGive me the Picklock sirrah and go play.\\nThey all three wept but counsel was as vain\\nAs crying cup biddy to drops of rain.\\nYet lingering by did the sad Ape forth draw\\nThe Picklock from the Pocket in his Jaw.\\nThe Princess took it, and dismounting straight\\nTripp d in blue silver d slippers to the gate 70\\nAnd touch d the wards, the Door full courteous\\nOpened she enter d with her servants three.\\nAgain it clos d and there was nothing seen\\nBut the Mule grazing on the herbage green.\\nEnd of Canto XII.\\nCANTO THE XIII\\nThe Mule no sooner saw himself alone\\nThan he prick d up his Ears and said well done\\nAt least unhappy Prince I may be free\\nNo more a Princess shall side-saddle me.\\nKing of Otaheite tho a Mule,\\nAye, every inch a King tho Fortune s\\nFool,\\nWell done for by what Mr. Dwarf y said\\n1 would not give a sixpence for her head.\\nEven as he spake he trotted in high glee\\nTo the knotty side of an old Pollard tree, 10\\nAnd rubb d his sides against the mossed bark", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0473.jp2"}, "474": {"fulltext": "456 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nTill his Girths burst and left him naked stark\\nExcept his Bridle how get rid of that\\nBuckled and tied with many a twist and plait.\\nAt last it struck him to pretend to sleep,\\nAnd then the thievish Monkeys down would creep\\nAnd filch the unpleasant trammels quite away.\\nNo sooner thought of than adown he lay,\\nShamm d a good snore the Monkey-men descended\\nAnd whom they thought to injure they befriended.\\nThey hung his Bridle on a topmost bough 21\\nAnd off he went run, trot, or anyhow\\nSPENSERIAN STANZAS ON CHARLES ARMITAGE\\nBROWN\\nHe is to weet a melancholy Carle\\nThin in the waist, with bushy head of hair,\\nAs hath the seeded thistle when in parle\\nIt holds the Zephyr, ere it sendeth fair\\nIts light balloons into the summer air\\nThere to his beard had not begun to bloom.\\nNo brush had touch d his chin, or razor sheer\\nNo care had touched his cheek with mortal doom.\\nBut new he was, and bright, as scarf from Persian\\nloom,\\nNe cared he for wine, or half-and-half\\nNe cared he for fish, or flesh, or fowl\\nAnd sauces held he worthless as the chaff\\nHe s deigned the swineherd at the wassail bowl\\nNe with lewd ribbalds sat he cheek by jowl\\nNe with sly Lemans in the scorner s chair\\nBut after water-brooks this Pilgrim s soul\\nPanted, and all his food was woodland air\\nThough he would of t-times feast on gill iflowers rare.\\nThe slang of cities in no wise he knew\\nTipping the wink to him was heathen Greek", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0474.jp2"}, "475": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 457\\nHe sipp d no olden Tom, or ruin blue,\\nOr Nantz, or cherry-brandy, drunk full meek\\nBy many a Damsel hoarse, and rouge of cheek\\nNor did he know each aged Watchman s beat,\\nNor in obscured purlieus would he seek\\nFor curled Jewesses, with ankles neat,\\nWho, as they walk abroad, make tinkling with their\\nfeet.\\nTWO OR THREE POSIES\\nTwo or three Posies\\nWith two or three simples\\nTwo or three Noses\\nWith two or three pimples\\nTwo or three wise men\\nAnd two or three ninny s\\nTwo or three purses\\nAnd two or three guineas\\nTwo or three raps\\nAt two or three doors\\nTwo or three naps\\nOf two or three hours\\nTwo or three Cats\\nAnd two or three mice\\nTwo or three sprats\\nAt a very great price\\nTwo or three sandies\\nAnd two or three tabbies\\nTwo or three dandies\\nAnd two Mrs. mum\\nTwo or three Smiles\\nAnd two or three frowns\\nTwo or three Miles\\nTo two or three towns\\nTwo or three pegs\\nFor two or three bonnets\\nTwo or three dove eggs\\nTo hatch into sonnets", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0475.jp2"}, "476": {"fulltext": "458 SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nA PARTY OF LOVERS\\nPensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,\\nNibble their toast, and cool their tea with sighs,\\nOr else forget the purpose of the night,\\nForget their tea forget their appetite.\\nSee with cross d arms they sit ah happy crew,\\nThe fire is going out and no one rings\\nFor coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings.\\nA fly is in the milk-pot must he die\\nBy a humane society\\nNo, no there Mr. Werter takes his spoon,\\nInserts it, dips the handle, and lo soon\\nThe little straggler, sav d from perils dark,\\nAcross the teaboard draws a long wet mark.\\nArise take snuffers by the handle,\\nThere s a large cauliflower in each candle.\\nA winding-sheet, ah me I must away\\nTo No. 7, just beyond the circus gay.\\nAlas, my friend your coat sits very well\\nWhere may your Taylor live I may not tell.\\npardon me I m absent now and then.\\nWhere niiglit my Taylorjive I say again\\n1 cannot tell, let me no more be teaz d\\nHe lives in Wapping, might live where he pleas d.\\nTO GEORGE KEATS\\nWRITTEN IN SICKNESS\\nBrother, belov d if health shall smile again,\\nUpon this wasted form and fever d cheek\\nIf e er returning vigour bid these weak\\nAnd languid limbs their gladsome strength re-\\ngain.\\nWell may thy brow the placid glow retain\\nOf sweet content and thy pleas d eye may speak", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0476.jp2"}, "477": {"fulltext": "FAMILIAR VERSES 459\\nThe conscious self applause, but should I seek\\nTo utter what this heart can feel, Ah vain\\nWere the attempt! Yet kindest friends while\\no er\\nMy couch ye bend, and watch with tenderness\\nThe being whom your cares could e en restore,\\nFrom the cold grasp of Death, say can you guess\\nThe feelings which these lips can ne er express\\nFeelings, deep fix d in grateful memory s store.\\nON OXFORD\\nThe Gothic looks solemn,\\nThe plain Doric column\\nSupports an old Bishop and Crozier\\nThe mouldering arch.\\nShaded o er by a larch,\\nStands next door to Wilson the Hosier.\\nVice, that is, by turns,\\nO er pale faces mourns\\nThe black tassell d trencher and common hat\\nThe charity boy sings,\\nThe Steeple-bell rings\\nAnd as for the Chancellor dominat.\\nThere are plenty of trees,\\nAnd plenty of ease.\\nAnd plenty of fat deer for Parsons\\nAnd when it is venison,\\nShort is the benison,\\nThen each on a leg or thigh fastens.\\nTO A CAT\\nCat! who has[t] pass d thy grand clima[c]teric,\\nHow many mice and rats hast in thy days\\nDestroy d How many tit-bits stolen Gaze", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0477.jp2"}, "478": {"fulltext": "46o SUPPLEMENTARY VERSE\\nWith those bright languid segments green, and\\nprick\\nThose velvet ears but pr ythee do not stick\\nThy latent talons in me and upraise\\nThy gentle mew and tell me all thy frays\\nOf fish and mice, and rats and tender chick\\nNay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists\\nFor all the wheezy asthma, and for all\\nThy tail s tip is nick d off and though the fists\\nOf many a maid has given thee many a maul,\\nStill is that fur as soft as when the lists\\nIn youth thou enter dst on glass-bottled wall.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0478.jp2"}, "479": {"fulltext": "INDEXES", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0479.jp2"}, "480": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0480.jp2"}, "481": {"fulltext": "INDEX OF FIRST LINES\\nA THING of beauty is a joy forever, 78.\\nAfter dark vapours have oppress d our plains, 62.\\nAh ken ye what I met the day, 442.\\nAh, what can ail thee, wretched wight, 240.\\nAh woe is me poor silver wing 246.\\nAll gentle folks who owe a grudge, 443.\\nAnd what is love It is a doll dress d up, 425.\\nAs from the darkening gloom a silver dove, 20.\\nAs Hermes once took to his feathers light, 240.\\nAs late I rambled in the happy fields, 21.\\nAsleep O sleep a little while, white pearl 430.\\nBards of Passion and of Mirth, 218.\\nBlue T is the life of heaven, the domain, 75.\\nBright star, would I were steadfast as thou art, 410.\\nBrother belov d, if health shall smile again, 458.\\nByron how sweetly sad thy melody 3.\\nCan death be sleep, when life is but a dream, 2.\\nCat who has[t] pass d thy grand climacteric, 459.\\nChief of organic numbers, 67.\\nCome hither all sweet maidens soberly, 66.\\nDear Reynolds as last night I lay in bed, 431.\\nDeep in the shady sadness of a vale, 352.\\nEver let the Fancy roam, 216.\\nFair Isabel, poor simjjle Isabel, 192.\\nFame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy, 248.\\nFanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave, 411.\\nFour Seasons fill the measure of the year, 76.\\nFresh morning gusts have blown away all fear, 12.\\nFull many a dreary hour have I past, 41.\\nGive me a golden pen and let me lean, 14.\\nGive me your patience, sister, while I frame, 437.\\nGlory and loveliness have pass d away, 64.\\nGod of the golden-bow, 11.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0481.jp2"}, "482": {"fulltext": "464 INDEX OF FIRST LINES\\nGood Kosciusko, thy great name alone, 58.\\nGreat spirits now on earth are sojourning, 57.\\nHad I a man s fair form, then might my sighs, 46.\\nHadst thou liv d in days of old, 18.\\nHappy, happy glowing fire 242.\\nHappy is England I could be content, 61.\\nHast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem, 6.\\nHaydon forgive me that I cannot speak, 63.\\nHe is to weet a melancholy Carle, 456.\\nHearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid, 211.\\nHence, Burgundy, Claret, and Port, 434.\\nHere all the summer could I stay, 435.\\nHigh-mindedness, a jealousy for good, 58.\\nHow fever d is that man, who cannot look, 247.\\nHow many bards gild the lapses of time 13.\\nHush hush tread softly hush, hush, my dear 210.\\nI cry your mercy pity love aye, love, 381.\\nI had a dove and the sweet dove died, 219.\\nI stood tiptoe upon a little hill, 22.\\nIf by dull rhymes our English must be chain d, 251.\\nIf shame can on a soldier s vein-swoU n front, 340.\\nIn a drear-nighted December, 59.\\nIn after-time, a sage of mickle lore, 14.\\nIn midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool, 382.\\nIn the wide sea there lives a forlorn wretch, 153.\\nIn thy western halls of gold, 10.\\nIt keeps eternal whisperings around, 64.\\nKeen, fitful gusts are whisp ring here and there, 13.\\nKing of the stormy sea, 160.\\nLo I must tell a tale of chivalry, 46.\\nMany the wonders I this day have seen, 45.\\nMother of Hermes and still youthful Maia, 209.\\nMuch have I travell d in the realms of gold, 15.\\nMy heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, 251.\\nMy spirit is too weak mortality, 03.\\nNature withheld Cassandra in the skies, 215.\\nNo, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist, 220.\\nNo those days are gone away, 70.\\nNot Aladdin magiau, 213.\\nNow morning from her orient chamber came, 1.\\nNymph of the downward smile and sidelong glance, 59.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0482.jp2"}, "483": {"fulltext": "INDEX OF FIRST LINES 465\\nO Arethusa, peerless nymph why fear, 131.\\nO blush not so O blush not so, 451.\\nO Chatterton how very sad thy fate, 2.\\ncome Georgiana the rose is full blown, 430.\\nO Goddess hear these tuneless numbers, wrung, 249.\\nO golden-tongued Romance, with serene lute 69.\\nO, I am frighten d with most hateful thoughts, 429.\\nO soft embalmer of the still midnight, 248.\\nO Solitude if I must with thee dwell, 20.\\nO Sorrow, 167.\\nO that a week could be an age, and we, 76.\\nO thou whose face hath felt the Winter s wind, 75.\\nO thou, whose mighty palace roof doth hang, 85.\\nO were I one of the Olympian twelve, 427.\\nOf late two dainties were before me plac d, 445.\\nOft have you seen a swan superbly frowning, 53.\\nOh how I love, on a fair summer s eve, 22.\\nOld Meg she was a Gipsy, 438.\\nOne morn before me were three figures seen, 236.\\nPensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes, 458.\\nPhysician Nature let my spirit blood 1 238.\\nRead me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud, 214.\\nSt. Agnes Eve Ah, bitter chill it was 221.\\nSeason of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 377.\\nShed no tear O shed no tear, 246.\\nSmall, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals, 57.\\nSo, I am safe emerged from these broils 275.\\nSon of the old moon-mountains African 72.\\nSouls of Poets dead and gone, G9.\\nSpenser a jealous honourer of thine, 72.\\nSpirit here that reignest 73.\\nStanding aloof in giant ignorance, 209.\\nSweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, 15.\\nThe church bells toll a melancholy round, 60.\\nThe day is gone, and all its sweets are gone, 379.\\nThe Gothic looks solemn, 459.\\nThe poetry of earth is never dead, 61.\\nThe stranger lighted from his steed, 429.\\nThe sun, with his great eye, 428.\\nThe Town, the churchyard, and the setting sun, 211.\\nThere is a charm in footing slow across a silent plain, 446.\\nThere was a naughty Boy, 439.\\nThink not of it, sweet one, so, 05.\\nThis mortal body of a thousand days, 212.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0483.jp2"}, "484": {"fulltext": "466 INDEX OF FIRST LINES\\nThis pleasant tale is like a little copse, 62.\\nThou still unravish d bride of quietness, 234.\\nTime s sea hath been five years at its slow ebb, 215.\\nTis the witching time of night, 452.\\nTo-night I 11 have my friar let me think, 426.\\nTo one who has been long in city pent, 21.\\nTwo or three Posies, 457.\\nUnfelt, unheard, imseen, 65.\\nUpon a Sabbath-day it fell, 348.\\nUpon a time, before the faery broods, 254.\\nUpon my Life, Sir Nevis, I am piqued, 448.\\nWelcome joy, and welcome sorrow, 74.\\nWhat can I do to drive away, 379.\\nWhat is more gentle than a wind in summer 29.\\nWhat though, for showing truth to flatter d state, 8.\\nWhat though, while the wonders of nature exploring, 5.\\nWhen by my solitary hearth I sit, 8.\\nWhen I have fears that I may cease to be, 67.\\nWhen they were come into the Faery s Court, 453.\\nWhen wedding fiddles are a-playing, 428.\\nWhere be ye going, you Devon maid 436.\\nWhere s the Poet show him show him, 425.\\nWho loves to peer up at the morning sun, 6G.\\nWho, who from Dian s feast would be away 179.\\nWhy did I laugh to-night No voice will tell, 238.\\nWoman when I behold thee flippant, vain, 3.\\nYoung Calidore is paddling o er the lake, 48.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0484.jp2"}, "485": {"fulltext": "INDEX OF TITLES\\n[The titles of major works and general divisions are set in\\nSMALL CAPITALS.]\\nAcEOSTic Georgiana Augusta Wylie, 437.\\nAddressed to Benjamin Robert Haydon, 57.\\nAh woe is me poor silver-wing 246.\\nAilsaRock, To, 211.\\nApollo, H3rmn to, 11.\\nApoUo, Ode to, 10.\\nAsleep O sleep a little while, white pearl 430.\\nAt Fingal s Cave, 213.\\nAt Teignmouth, 435.\\nAutumn, To, 377.\\nBagpipe, On Hearing the, and Seeing The Stranger, 445.\\nBards of Passion and of Mirth, 218.\\nBeaumont and Fletcher s Works, Song written on a blank page in,\\n73.\\nBelle Dame sans Merci, La, 240.\\nBen Nevis, Mrs. Cameron and, 448.\\nBen Nevis, Written upon the Top of, 214.\\nBrawne, Fanny, Verses to, 379.\\nBrother George, Epistle to my, 41.\\nBrother George, To my, 45.\\nBrothers, To my, 57.\\nBrown, Charles Armitage, Spenserian Stanzas on, 456.\\nBurns, On Visiting the Tomb of, 120.\\nByron, To, 3.\\nCalidore a Fragment, 48.\\nCameron, Mrs. and Ben Nevis, 448.\\nCap and Bells, The, 382.\\nCastle Builder, The, Fragment of, 426.\\nCat, To a, 459.\\nChapman s Homer, On First Looking into, 15.\\nChatterton, To, 2.\\nChaucer s Tale of The Floure and the Lefe, Written on the blank\\nspace at the end of, 62.\\nChorus of Fairies, 242.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0485.jp2"}, "486": {"fulltext": "468 INDEX OF TITLES\\nClarke, Charles Cowden, Epistle to, 53.\\nCottage where Burns was born, Written in the, 212.\\nCurious Shell, and a Copy of Verses from the Same Ladies, On re-\\nceiving a, 6.\\nDaisy s Song, 428.\\nDeath, On, 1.\\nDevon Maid, The, 436.\\nDramas, 275.\\nDraught of Sunshine, A, 434.\\nDream, A, after reading Dante s Episode of Paolo and Francesca,\\n240.\\nEarly Poems, 1.\\nElgin Marbles, On Seeing the, 63.\\nEndyjuon, 77.\\nEpistles\\nTo Charles Cowden Clarke, 53.\\nTo George Felton Mathew, 15.\\nTo John Hamilton Reynolds, 431.\\nTo my Brother George, 41.\\nEve of St. Agnes, The, 221.\\nEve of St. Mark, The, 348.\\nEve s Apple, Sharing, 451.\\nExtempore, A Little, 453.\\nExtracts from an Opera, 427.\\nFaery Songs, 246.\\nFairies, Chorus of, 242.\\nFame, On, 247.\\nFame, Another On, 248.\\nFamiliar Verses, 430.\\nFancy, 216.\\nFaimy, Lines to, 379.\\nFanny, Ode to, 238.\\nFanny, To, 381.\\nFingal s Cave, At, 213.\\nFolly s Song, 428.\\nFragments\\nCalidore, 48.\\nExtracts from an Opera, 427.\\nKing Stephen, 340.\\nModern Love, 425.\\nOf an Ode to Maia, 209.\\nThe Castle Builder, 42G.\\nWelcome joy and welcome sorrow, 74.\\nWhere s the Poet show him show him 425.\\nFriend, To a, who sent me some Roses, 21.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0486.jp2"}, "487": {"fulltext": "INDEX OF TITLES 469\\nG. A. W., To, 59.\\nGadfly, The, 443.\\nGeorge, Epistle to my Brother, 41.\\nGeorge, To my Brother, 45.\\nGrasshopper and Cricket, On the, 61.\\nGrecian Urn, Ode on a, 234.\\nHaydon, Benjamin Robert, Addressed to, 57.\\nHaydon, To, 63.\\nHighlands, Lines written in the, after a Visit to Burns s Country, 446.\\nHomer, To, 209.\\nHope, To, 8.\\nHuman Seasons, The, 76.\\nHunt, Leigh, To, 64.\\nHunt, Mr. Leigh, left Prison, Written on the Day that, 8.\\nHunt s, Leigh, Poem, The Story of Rimini, On, 66.\\nHymn to Apollo, 11.\\nHyperion A Fragment, 352.\\nHyperion A Vision, 411.\\nI stood tip-toe upon a little hill, 22.\\nImitation of Spenser, 1.\\nIn Answer to a Sonnet by J. H. Reynolds, 75.\\nIndolence, Ode on, 236.\\nInduction to a Poem, Specimen of an, 46.\\nIsabella, or the Pot of Basil, 192.\\nKeats, George, To Written in Sickness, 458.\\nKeats, To Thomas, 442.\\nKing Lear once again. On Sitting down to read, 69.\\nKing Stephen A Dramatic Fragment, 340.\\nKosciusko, To, 58.\\nLa Belle Dame sans Merci, 240.\\nLadies, To some, 5.\\nLady seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall, To a, 215.\\nLamia, 254.\\nLast Sonnet, The, 410.\\nLaurel Crown, To a Yoimg Lady who sent me a, 12.\\nLeander, On a Picture of, 66.\\nLeaving Some Friends at an Early Hour, On, 14.\\nLines on the Mermaid Tavern, 69.\\nLines to Fanny, 379.\\nLines Unfelt, unseen, unheard, 65.\\nLines written in the Highlands, after a Visit to Burns s Country, 446.\\nLittle Extempore, A, 453.\\nLock of Milton s Hair, On Seeing a, 67.\\nLovers, A Party of, 458.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0487.jp2"}, "488": {"fulltext": "470 INDEX OF TITLES\\nMala, Fragment of an Ode to, 209.\\nMathew, George Felton, Epistle to, 15.\\nMeg Merrilies, 438.\\nMelancholy, Ode on, 220.\\nMermaid Tavern, Lines on the, 69.\\nMilton s Hair, On Seeing a Lock of, 67.\\nModern Love, 425.\\nNightingale, Ode to a, 251.\\nNile, To the, 72.\\nO, I am frighten d with most hateful thoughts 429.\\nO were I one of the Olympian twelve, 427.\\nOde Bards of Passion and of Mirth, 218.\\nOde on a Grecian Urn, 234.\\nOde on Indolence, 236.\\nOde on Melancholy, 220.\\nOde to a Nightingale, 251.\\nOde to Apollo, 10.\\nOde to Fanny, 238.\\nOde to Maia, Fragment of an, 209.\\nOde to Psyche, 249.\\nOn a Picture of Leander, 66.\\nOn Death, 2.\\nOn Fame, 247, 248.\\nOn First Looking into Chapman s Homer, 15.\\nOn Hearing the Bagpipe, and Seeing The Stranger played at Inve-\\nrary, 445.\\nOn Leaving Some Friends at an Early Hour, 14.\\nOn Leigh Hunt s Poem The Story of Kimini, 66.\\nOn Oxford, 459.\\nOn Receiving a Curious Shell and a Copy of Verses, 6.\\nOn Seeing a Lock of Milton s Hair, 67.\\nOn Seeing the Elgin Marbles, 63.\\nOn Sitting down to read King Lear once again, 69.\\nOn the Grasshopper and Cricket, 61.\\nOn the Sea, 64.\\nOn Think not of it, sweet one, so, 65.\\nOn Visiting the Tomb of Burns, 211.\\nOtho the Great, 275.\\nParty of Lovers, A, 458,\\nPicture of Leander, On a, 66.\\nPoems op 1818-1819, The, 192.\\nProphecy, A To George Keats in America, 452.\\nPsyche, Ode to, 249.\\nReynolds, John Hamilton, Epistle to, 431.\\nReynolds, John Hamilton, To, 70.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0488.jp2"}, "489": {"fulltext": "INDEX OF TITLES 471\\nRobin Hood, 70.\\nBonsard, Translation from a Sonnet of, 215.\\nSea, On the, 64.\\nSharing Eve s Apple, 451.\\nShed no tear O shed no tear 246.\\nSleep, To, 248.\\nSleep and Poetry, 29.\\nSolitude, Sonnet to, 20.\\nSome Ladies, To, 5.\\nSong about Myself, A, 439.\\nSongs\\nDaisy s Song, 428.\\nFaery Songs, 246.\\nFolly s Song, 428.\\nHush, hush tread softly hush, hush, my dear, 210.\\nI had a dove, and the sweet dove died, 219.\\nThe stranger lighted from his steed, 429.\\nWritten on a blank page in Beaumont and Fletcher s Works,\\n73.\\nSonnets\\nAddressed to Benjamin Robert Haydon, 57.\\nAfter dark vapours have oppress d our plains, 62.\\nAs from the darkening gloom a silver dove, 20.\\nBlue t is the life of heaven, the domain, 75.\\nDream, A, after reading Dante s Episode of Paolo and Francesca,\\n240.\\nHappy is England I could be content, 61.\\nHow many bards gild the lapses of time, 13.\\nHuman Seasons, The, 76.\\nIf by duU rhymes our English must be chain d, 251.\\nKeen, fitful gusts are whisp ring here and there, 13.\\nLast Sonnet, The, 410.\\nOh how I love, on a fair summer s eve, 22.\\nOn a Pictm-e of Leander, 66.\\nOn Fame, 247,\\nOn Fame, Anotlier, 248.\\nOn First Looking into Chapman s Homer, 15.\\nOn Hearing the Bagpipe and Seeing The Stranger played at In-\\nverary, 445.\\nOn Leaving Some Friends at an Early Hour, 14.\\nOn Leigh Himt s Poem The Story of Rimini, 66.\\nOn Seeing the Elgin Marbles, 63.\\nOn Sitting down to read King Lear once again, 69.\\nOn the Grasshopper and Cricket, 61.\\nOn the Sea, 64.\\nOn Visiting the Tomb of Burns, 211.\\nThe day is gone and all its sweets are gone 379.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0489.jp2"}, "490": {"fulltext": "472 INDEX OF TITLES\\nTo Had I a man s fair form, 46.\\nTo a Cat, 459.\\nTo a Friend who sent me some Roses, 21.\\nTo a Lady seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall, 215.\\nTo a Young Lady who sent me a Laurel Crown, 12.\\nTo Ailsa Rock, 211.\\nTo Byron, 3.\\nTo Chatterton, 2.\\nTo Fanny, 381.\\nTo G. A. W., 59.\\nTo George Keats, 458.\\nTo Haydon, 63.\\nTo Homer, 209.\\nTo John Hamilton Reynolds, 76.\\nTo Kosciusko, 58.\\nTo Leigh Hunt, Esq., 64.\\nTo my Brother George, 45.\\nTo my Brothers, 57.\\nTo one who has been long in city pent, 21.\\nTo Sleep, 248.\\nTo Solitude, 20.\\nTo Spenser, 72.\\nTo the Nile, 71.\\nWhat the Thrush said, 75.\\nWhen I have fears that I may cease to be, 67.\\nWhy did I laugh to-night No voice will tell, 238.\\nWritten in Answer to a Sonnet, 75.\\nWritten in Disgust of Vulgar Superstition, 60.\\nWritten in the Cottage where Bums was born, 212.\\nWritten on the blank space at the end of Chaucer s Tale of The\\nFloure and the Lefe, 62.\\nWritten on the Day that Mr. Leigh Himt left Prison, 8.\\nWritten upon the Top of Ben Nevis, 214.\\nSpecimen of an Induction to a Poem, 46.\\nSpenser, Imitation of, 1.\\nSpenser, To, 72.\\nSpenserian Stanza, written at the close of Canto II., Book V., of The\\nFaerie Queene, 14.\\nSpenserian Stanzas on Charles Armitage Brown, 456.\\nStanzas In a drear-nigh ted December, 59.\\nStanzas to Miss Wylie, 430.\\nSupplementary Verse, 411.\\nThe day is gone and all its sweets are gone, 379.\\nTo Had I a man s fair form, 46.\\nTo Hadst thou liv d in days of old, 18.\\nTo a Cat, 459.\\nTo a Friend who sent me some Roses, 21.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0490.jp2"}, "491": {"fulltext": "INDEX OF TITLES 473\\nTo a Lady seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall, 215.\\nTo a Young Lady who sent me a Laurel Crown, 12.\\nTo Ailsa Rock, 211.\\nTo Autumn, 377.\\nTo Byron, 3.\\nTo Chatterton, 2.\\nTo Fanny, 381.\\nTo G. A. W., 59.\\nTo George Keats, 458.\\nTo Haydon, 63.\\nTo Homer, 209.\\nTo Hope, 8.\\nTo John Hamilton Reynolds, 76.\\nTo Kosciusko, 58.\\nTo Leigh Hunt, Esq., 64.\\nTo my Brother George, 45.\\nTo my Brothers, 57.\\nTo one who has been long in city pent, 21.\\nTo Sleep, 248.\\nTo Solitude, 20.\\nTo Some Ladies, 5.\\nTo Spenser, 72.\\nTo the Nile, 72.\\nTo Thomas Keats, 442.\\nTranslation from a Somiet of Ronsard, 215.\\nTwo or Three Posies, 457.\\nVebses to Fanny Bra^^ts e, 379.\\nVerses written during a Tour in Scotland, 211.\\nWhat the Thrush said, 75.\\nWhere s the Poet Show him show him, 425.\\nWoman when I behold thee, flippant, vain, 3.\\nWritten in Answer to a Sonnet, 75.\\nWritten in Disgust of Vulgar Superstition, 60.\\nWritten in the Cottage where Burns was born, 212.\\nWritten on the blank space at the end of Chaucer s Tale of The\\nFloure and the Lefe, 62.\\nWritten on the Day Mr. Leigh Hunt left Prison, 8.\\nWritten upon the Top of Ben Nevis, 214.\\nWylie, Miss, Stanzas to, 430.", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0491.jp2"}, "492": {"fulltext": "Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton 6f Co.\\nCambridge, Mass, U.S. A.\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0iv^^^", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0492.jp2"}, "493": {"fulltext": "4", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0493.jp2"}, "494": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0494.jp2"}, "495": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0495.jp2"}, "496": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3102", "width": "1757", "jp2-path": "completepoetical01keat_0496.jp2"}}