275

Filling the chilly room with perfumed light"And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! "Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: “Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, "Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."

XXXII.

280 Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream By the dusk curtains:-'twas a midnight charm

285

290

295

300

Impossible to melt as iced stream:

The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:

It seem'd he never, never could redeem

From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes; So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies.

XXXIII.

Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,-
Tumultuous, and,-in chords that tender-
est be,

He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans

mercy:

Close to her ear touching the melody;-
Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan:
He ceas'd-she panted quick-and suddenly
Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
Upon his knees he sank, pale as
sculptured-stone.

XXXIV.

smooth

Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,
Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd
The blisses of her dream so pure and deep;

At which fair Madeline began to weep,

And moan forth witless words with many a

sigh,

While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; 305 Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dream

ingly.

XXXV.

"Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now
"Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
"Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;

310 "And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
"How chang'd thou art! how pallid, chill, and
drear!

"Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
"Those looks immortal, those complainings
dear!

"Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, 315"For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."

320

325

XXXVI.

Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far
At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;
Into her dream he melted, as the rose

Blended its odour with the violet,—

Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath

set.

XXXVII.

'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:
"This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"
'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:
"No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!

330

335

340

345

350

355

"Porphyro will leave me here to fade and

pine.

"Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? "I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, “Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;"A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."

XXXVIII.

"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!
Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?
"Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil
dy'd?

"Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest
"After so many hours of toil and quest,
"A famish'd pilgrim,-sav'd by miracle.
"Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest
66 Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well
"To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel.

XXXIX.

"Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, "Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed: "Arise-arise! the morning is at hand;"The bloated wassailers will never heed:"Let us away, my love, with happy speed; "There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,— "Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead: "Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be, "For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."

XL.

She hurried at his words, beset with fears,
For there were sleeping dragons all around,
At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears-
Down the wide stairs a darkling way they
found.-

In all the house was heard no human sound.
A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each
door;

The arras rich with horseman, hawk, and
hound,

Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar;

360 And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.

365

370

375

XLI.

They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall;
Like phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide;
Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,
With a huge empty flagon by his side:

The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his
hide,

But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide::The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.

XLII.

And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
These lovers fled away into the storm.

That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
And all his warrior-guests, with shade and
form

Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,
Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old
Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform;
The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
For aye unsought-for slept amongst his ashes
cold.

ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE

(1819)

I.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 5 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

10

But being too happy in thine happiness,-
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

II.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt
mirth!

15 O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;

20

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

III.

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;