Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/139

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Left thee so quiet on this bed of dew? Behold upon this happy earth we are; Let us aye love each other; let us fare On forest-fruits, and never, never go Among the abodes of mortals here below, Or be by phantoms duped. O destiny! Into a labyrinth now my soul would fly, But with thy beauty will I deaden it. Where didst thou melt to? By thee will I sit Forever: let our fate stop here—a kid I on this spot will offer: Pan will bid Us live in peace, in love and peace among His forest wildernesses. I have clung To nothing, loved a nothing, nothing seen Or felt but a great dream! Oh, I have been Presumptuous against love, against the sky Against all elements, against the tie Of mortals each to each, against the blooms Of flowers, rush of rivers, and the tombs Of heroes gone! Against his proper glory Has my own soul conspired: so my story Will I to children utter, and repent. There never lived a mortal man, who bent His appetite beyond his natural sphere, But starved and died. My sweetest Indian, here, Here will I kneel, for thou redeemed hast My life from too thin breathing: gone and past Are cloudy phantasms. Caverns lone, farewell! And air of visions, and the monstrous swell Of visionary seas! No, never more Shall airy voices cheat me to the shore Of tangled wonder, breathless and aghast.