Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/82

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My own dear will, 'twould be a deadly bane."— "O, Oread-Queen! would that thou hadst a pain Like this of mine, then would I fearless turn And be a criminal."—"Alas, I burn, I shudder—gentle river, get thee hence. Alpheus! thou enchanter! every sense Of mine was once made perfect in these woods. Fresh breezes, bowery lawns, and innocent floods, Ripe fruits, and lonely couch, contentment gave; But ever since I heedlessly did lave In thy deceitful stream, a panting glow Grew strong within me: wherefore serve me so, And call it love? Alas! 'twas cruelty. Not once more did I close my happy eyes Amid the thrush's song. Away! avaunt! O 'twas a cruel thing."—" Now thou dost taunt So softly, Arethusa, that I think If thou wast playing on my shady brink, Thou wouldst bathe once again. Innocent maid! Stifle thine heart no more;—nor be afraid Of angry powers: there are deities Will shade us with their wings. Those fitful sighs 'Tis almost death to hear: O let me pour A dewy balm upon them!—fear no more, Sweet Arethusa! Dian's self must feel, Sometimes, these very pangs. Dear maiden, steal Blushing into my soul, and let us fly These dreary caverns for the open sky. I will delight thee all my winding course, From the green sea up to my hidden source About Arcadian forests; and will show The channels where my coolest waters flow