Page:The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats, 1899.djvu/74

38 —whether it existed before or not—for I have the same idea of all our passions as of Love: they are all, in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty. In a word, you may know my favourite speculation by my first Book, and the little Song I sent in my last, which is a representation from the fancy of the probable mode of operating in these matters.'

unheard, unseen,

I 've left my little queen,

Her languid arms in silver slumber lying:

Ah! through their nestling touch,

Who—who could tell how much

There is for madness—cruel, or complying?

Those faery lids how sleek!

Those lips how moist!—they speak,

In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:

Into my fancy's ear

Melting a burden dear,

How 'Love doth know no fulness, and no bounds.'

True!—tender monitors!

I bend unto your laws:

This sweetest day for dalliance was born!

So, without more ado,

I 'll feel my heaven anew,

For all the blushing of the hasty morn.

not of it, sweet one, so;—

Give it not a tear;

Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go

Any—any where.

Do not look so sad, sweet one,—

Sad and fadingly;

Shed one drop, then it is gone,

Oh! 't was born to die!

Still so pale? then dearest weep;

Weep, I 'll count the tears,

For each will I invent a bliss

For thee in after years.

Brighter has it left thine eyes

Than a sunny rill;

And thy whispering melodies

Are more tender still.

Yet—as all things mourn awhile

At fleeting blisses;

E'en let us too; but be our dirge

A dirge of kisses.

hither, all sweet maidens soberly,

Down-looking aye, and with a chasten'd light

Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white,

And meekly let your fair hands joined be,

As if so gentle that ye could not see,

Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright,

Sinking away to his young spirit's night,

Sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea:

'T is young Leander toiling to his death;

Nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips

For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile.

O horrid dream! see how his body dips

Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile:

He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!