Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/116



Nor be the trumpet heard! O vain, O vain! Not flowers budding in an April rain, Nor breath of sleeping dove, or river's flow— No, nor the Æolian twang of Love's own bow, Can mingle music fit for the soft ear Of goddess Cytherea! Yet deign, white Queen of Beauty, thy fair eyes On our souls' sacrifice.


 * "Bright-winged Child!

Who has another care when thou hast smiled? Unfortunates on earth, we see at last All death shadows, and glooms that overcast Our spirits, fann'd away by thy light pinions. O sweetest essence! sweetest of all minions! God of warm pulses, and dishevell'd hair, And panting bosoms bare! Dear unseen light in darkness! eclipser Of light in light! delicious poisoner! Thy venom'd goblet will we quaff until We fill—we fill! And by thy mother's lips——"


 * Was heard no more

For clamor, when the golden palace-door Open'd again, and from without, in shone A new magnificence. On oozy throne Smooth-moving came Oceanus the old, To take a latest glimpse at his sheep-fold, Before he went into his quiet cave To muse forever—Then, a lucid wave, Scoop'd from its trembling sisters of mid-sea,