Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/209

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 * The blisses of her dream so pure and deep.
 * At which fair Madeline began to weep,
 * And moan forth witless words with many a sigh;
 * While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
 * Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,

Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly.

said she, "but even now
 * Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
 * Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;
 * And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
 * How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!
 * Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
 * Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!
 * Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,

For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."


 * At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
 * Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
 * Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose:
 * Into her dream he melted, as the rose
 * Blendeth its odor with the violet,—
 * Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
 * Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet

Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.