Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/127

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 * Before the vine-wreath crown!
 * I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing
 * To the silver cymbals' ring!
 * I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce
 * Old Tartary the fierce!
 * The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail,
 * And from their treasures scatter pearled hail;
 * Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,
 * And all his priesthood moans,
 * Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale.
 * Into these regions came I, following him,
 * Sick-hearted, weary—so I took a whim
 * To stray away into these forests drear,
 * Alone, without a peer:
 * And I have told thee all thou mayest hear.


 * "Young Stranger!
 * I've been a ranger
 * In search of pleasure throughout every clime;
 * Alas! 'tis not for me:
 * Bewitch'd I sure must be,
 * To lose in grieving all my maiden prime.


 * "Come then, Sorrow,
 * Sweetest Sorrow!
 * Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast;
 * I thought to leave thee.
 * And deceive thee,
 * But now of all the world I love thee best


 * "There is not one.
 * No, no, not one