Page:The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats, 1899.djvu/48

12 Peeps the richness of a pearl.

Downward too flows many a tress

With a glossy waviness;

Full, and round like globes that rise

From the censer to the skies

Through sunny air. Add too, the sweetness

Of thy honied voice; the neatness

Of thine ankle lightly turn'd:

With those beauties scarce discern'd,

Kept with such sweet privacy,

That they seldom meet the eye

Of the little loves that fly

Round about with eager pry.

Saving when, with freshening lave,

Thou dipp'st them in the taintless wave;

Like twin water-lilies, born

In the coolness of the morn.

O, if thou hadst breathèd then,

Now the Muses had been ten.

Couldst thou wish for lineage higher

Than twin-sister of Thalia?

At least for ever, evermore

Will I call the Graces four.

Hadst thou liv'd when chivalry

Lifted up her lance on high,

Tell me what thou wouldst have been?

Ah! I see the silver sheen

Of thy broider'd, floating vest

Cov'ring half thine ivory breast:

Which, O heavens! I should see,

But that cruel destiny

Has plac'd a golden cuirass there;

Keeping secret what is fair.

Like sunbeams in a cloudlet nested

Thy locks in knightly casque are rested:

O'er which bend four milky plumes

Like the gentle lily's blooms

Springing from a costly vase.

See with what a stately pace

Comes thine alabaster steed;

Servant of heroic deed!

O'er his loins his trappings glow

Like the northern lights on snow.

Mount his back! thy sword unsheath!

Sign of the enchanter's death;

Bane of every wicked spell;

Silencer of dragon's yell.

Alas! thou this wilt never do:

Thou art an enchantress too,

And wilt surely never spill

Blood of those whose eyes can kill.

from the darkening gloom a silver dove

Upsoars, and darts into the eastern light,

On pinions that nought moves but pure delight,

So fled thy soul into the realms above,

Regions of peace and everlasting love;

Where happy spirits, crown'd with circlets bright

Of starry beam, and gloriously bedight,

Taste the high joy none but the blest can prove.

There thou or joinest the immortal quire

In melodies that even heaven fair

Fill with superior bliss, or, at desire,

Of the omnipotent Father, cleav'st the air

On holy message sent—What pleasure 's higher?

Wherefore does any grief our joy impair?

if I must with thee dwell,

Let it not be among the jumbled heap

Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—

Nature's observatory,—whence the dell,

Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,

May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep

'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap

Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.