"Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.— "Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? "I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, "Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;"A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing." XXXVIII. "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride! "Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? "Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil dy'd? 66 Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest "After so many hours of toil and quest, "A famish'd pilgrim,-sav'd by miracle. “Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest "Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well "To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel. XXXIX. "Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, "Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed: "Arise-arise! the morning is at hand;— "The bloated wassailers will never heed:"Let us away, my love, with happy speed; "There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,"Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead: "Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be, "For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee." XL. She hurried at his words, beset with fears, In all the house was heard no human sound. A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each door; The arras rich with horseman, hawk, and hound, Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar; And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor. XLI. They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall; The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide, But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. XLII. And they are gone: ay, ages long ago That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform; The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, For aye unsought-for slept amongst his ashes cold. ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE (1819) I. My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, II. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been O for a beaker full of the warm South, That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, III. Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. V. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, VI. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. VII. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! She stood in tears amid the alien corn; Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam VIII. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:-Do I wake or sleep? |