Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/202

190


 * Yet men will murder upon holy days:
 * Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve,
 * And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays,
 * To venture so: it fills me with amaze.
 * To see thee, Porphyro!—St. Agnes' Eve!
 * God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays
 * This very night : good angels her deceive!

But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve."


 * While Porphyro upon her face doth look,
 * Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone
 * Who keepeth closed a wondrous riddle-book,
 * As spectacled she sits in chimney nook.
 * But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told
 * His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook
 * Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold.

And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old.


 * Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart
 * Made purple riot: then doth he propose
 * A stratagem, that makes the beldam start:
 * "A cruel man and impious thou art:
 * Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep and dream
 * Alone with her good angels, far apart