Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/166



They were enthroned, in the even tide, Upon a couch, near to a curtaining Whose airy texture, from a golden string, Floated into the room, and let appear Unveil'd the summer heaven, blue and clear, Betwixt two marble shafts:—there they reposed, Where use had made it sweet, with eyelids closed, Saving a tithe which love still open kept, That they might see each other while they almost slept; When from the slope side of a suburb hill, Deafening the swallow's twitter, came a thrill Of trumpets—Lycius started—the sounds fled, But left a thought, a buzzing in his head. For the first time, since first he harbor'd in That purple-lined palace of sweet sin, His spirit pass'd beyond its golden bourn Into the noisy world almost forsworn. The lady, ever watchful, penetrant, Saw this with pain, so arguing a want Of something more, more than her empery Of joys; and she began to moan and sigh Because he mused beyond her, knowing well That but a moment's thought is passion's passing bell "Why do you sigh, fair creature?" whisper'd he: "Why, do you think?" return'd she tenderly: "You have deserted me; where am I now? Not in your heart while care weighs on your brow: No, no, you have dismissed me; and I go From your breast houseless: ay, it must be so."