Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/53



Meander gave me,—for I bubbled up To fainting creatures in a desert wild. But woe is me, I am but as a child To gladden thee; and all I dare to say, Is, that I pity thee; that on this day I've been thy guide; that thou must wander far In other regions, past the scanty bar To mortal steps, before thou canst be ta'en From every wasting sigh, from every pain, Into the gentle bosom of thy love. Why it is thus, one knows in heaven above: But, a poor Naiad, I guess not. Farewell! I have a ditty for my hollow cell."
 * Hereat she vanish'd from Endymion's gaze,

Who brooded o'er the water in amaze: The dashing fount pour'd on, and where its pool Lay, half asleep, in grass and rushes cool, Quick waterflies and gnats were sporting still, And fish were dimpling, as if good nor ill Had fallen out that hour. The wanderer, Holding his forehead, to keep off the burr Of smothering fancies, patiently sat down; And, while beneath the evening's sleepy frown Glow-worms began to trim their starry lamps, Thus breathed he to himself: "Whoso encamps To take a fancied city of delight, O what a wretch is he! and when 'tis his, After long toil and travelling, to miss The kernel of his hopes, how more than vile! Yet, for him there's refreshment even in toil: Another city doth he set about,