Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/307

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Had rested, and there slept how long a sleep! Degraded, cold, [upon the sodden ground His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred, and his realmless eyes were closed; While his bow'd head seem'd listening to the Earth, His ancient mother, for some comfort yet.
 * It seem'd no force could wake him from his place;

But there came one who, with a kindred hand, Touch'd his wide shoulders, after bending low With reverence, though to one who knew it not] Then came the grieved voice of Mnemosyne, And grieved I hearken'd. "That divinity Whom thou saw'st step from yon forlornest wood, And with slow pace approach our fallen king, Is Thea, softest-natured of our brood." I mark'd the Goddess, in fair statuary Surpassing wan Moneta by the head, And in her sorrow nearer woman's tears, [There was a list'ning fear in her regard, As if calamity had but begun; As if the venomed clouds of evil days Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear