Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/157



Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees. Into the green-recessed woods they flew; Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.


 * Left to herself, the serpent now began

To change; her elfin blood in madness ran, Her mouth foam'd, and the grass, therewith besprent, Wither'd at dew so sweet and virulent; Her eyes in torture fix'd, and anguish drear, Hot, glazed, and wide, with lid-lashes all sear, Flash'd phosphor and sharp sparks, without one cooling tear. The colors all inflamed throughout her train, She writhed about, convulsed with scarlet pain: A deep volcanian yellow took the place Of all her milder-mooned body's grace; And, as the lava ravishes the mead, Spoilt all her silver mail, and golden brede: Made gloom of all her frecklings, streaks and bars, Eclipsed her crescents, and lick'd up her stars: So that, in moments few, she was undrest Of all her sapphires, greens, and amethyst, And rubious-argent: of all these bereft Nothing but pain and ugliness were left. Still shone her crown; that vanish'd, also she Melted and disappeared as suddenly: And in the air, her new voice luting soft, Cried, "Lycius! gentle Lycius!"—borne aloft With the bright mists about the mountains hoar These words dissolved: Crete's forests heard no more.
 * Whither fled Lamia, now a lady bright,