Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/205

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 * To a safe level matting. Now prepare,
 * Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed;

She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd and fled.


 * Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
 * She closed the door, she panted, all akin
 * To spirits of the air, and visions wide:
 * No utter'd syllable, or, woe betide!
 * But to her heart, her heart was voluble,
 * Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
 * As though a tongueless nightingale should swell

Her throat in vain and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.


 * All garlanded with carven imageries
 * Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
 * And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
 * Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
 * As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings;
 * And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,
 * And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,

A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.


 * And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
 * As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
 * Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,