Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/98

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And over it a sighing voice expire. It ceased—I caught light footsteps; and anon The fairest face that morn e'er look'd upon Push'd through a screen of roses. Starry Jove! With tears, and smiles, and honey-words she wove A net whose thraldom was more bliss than all The range of flower'd Elysium. Thus did fall The dew of her rich speech: 'Ah! art awake? O let me hear thee speak, for Cupid's sake! I am so oppress'd with joy! Why, I have shed An urn of tears, as though thou wert cold dead; And now I find thee living, I will pour From these devoted eyes their silver store, Until exhausted of the latest drop, So it will pleasure thee, and force thee stop Here, that I too may live: but if beyond Such cool and sorrowful offerings, thou art fond Of soothing warmth, of dalliance supreme; If thou art ripe to taste a long love-dream; If smiles, if dimples, tongues for ardor mute, Hang in thy vision like a tempting fruit, O let me pluck it for thee!' Thus she link'd Her charming syllables, till indistinct Their music came to my o'er-sweeten'd soul; And then she hover'd over me, and stole So near, that if no nearer it had been This furrow'd visage thou hadst never seen.


 * "Young man of Latmos! thus particular

Am I, that thou may'st plainly see how far This fierce temptation went: and thou may'st not Exclaim, How, then, was Scylla quite forgot?