With sidelong laughing ;

And little rills of crimson wine imbru'd

His plump white arms, and shoulders, enough white

For Venus' pearly bite :

And near him rode Silenus on his ass,

Pelted with flowers as he on did pass

Tipsily quaffing.

215

"Whence came ye, merry Damsels! whence came ye! So many, and so many, and such glee?

Why have ye left your bowers desolate,

Your lutes, and gentler fate?—

'We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing,

A conquering!

Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,

We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:-
Come hither, lady fair, and joined be

To our wild minstrelsy!'

"Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came ye! So many, and so many, and such glee?

220

225

Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left

230

Your nuts in oak-tree cleft ?—

'For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree;

For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms,

And cold mushrooms;

For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth;

235

(212-13) The draft reads streaks for rills and dainty for enough. (214) In the draft, For any pearly bite.

(221) An additional line comes between 221 and 222 in the draft—

We follow Bacchus from a far country.

(225) The draft reads beside for before.

(232) The draft reads forest meat for kernel tree.

Great God of breathless cups and chirping mirth !—
Come hither, lady fair, and joined be

To our mad minstrelsy !'

"Over wide streams and mountains great we went,

And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent,

Onward the tiger and the leopard pants,

With Asian elephants:

Onward these myriads-with song and dance,

With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' prance,
Web-footed alligators, crocodiles,

240

245

Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files,

Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil
Of seamen, and stout galley-rowers' toil :
With toying oars and silken sails they glide,
Nor care for wind and tide.

250

"Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes,
From rear to van they scour about the plains;
A three days' journey in a moment done:
And always, at the rising of the sun,

About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn,
On spleenful unicorn.

255

"I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown

Before the vine-wreath crown!

I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing
To the silver cymbals' ring!

260

I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce

(236) The draft has endless for chirping.
(247) This line reads as follows in the draft—

Arch infant crews in mimic of the coil...

(254) The draft reads alway without the s.

Old Tartary the fierce!

The kings of Inde their jewel-sceptres vail,
And from their treasures scatter pearled hail;
Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,
And all his priesthood moans;

Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale.—
Into these regions came I following him,

Sick hearted, weary-so I took a whim

265

To stray away into these forests drear

Alone, without a peer:

And I have told thee all thou mayest hear.

270

"Young stranger!

I've been a ranger

In search of pleasure throughout every clime :

275

Alas, 'tis not for me!

Bewitch'd I sure must be,

To lose in grieving all my maiden prime.

"Come then, Sorrow!

Sweetest Sorrow!

Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:

I thought to leave thee

And deceive thee,

But now of all the world I love thee best.

280

(263) The draft reads jewel'd sceptres.

(267) At this point the following line is cancelled in the draft : All city gates were opened to his pomp.

(272) The biblical dissyllabic form mayest is clearly used by deliberate preference, for the line originally stood thus in the draft: And I have told thee all that thou canst hear.

(277) In the draft, Bewitch'd must I sure be.

"There is not one,

No, no, not one

But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid;

Thou art her mother,

And her brother,

Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade."

O what a sigh she gave in finishing,
And look, quite dead to every worldly thing!
Endymion could not speak, but gaz'd on her;
And listened to the wind that now did stir
About the crisped oaks full drearily,
Yet with as sweet a softness as might be
Remember'd from its velvet summer song.
At last he said: "Poor lady, how thus long
Have I been able to endure that voice?
Fair Melody! kind Syren! I've no choice;
I must be thy sad servant evermore :

285

290

295

300

I cannot choose but kneel here and adore.
Alas, I must not think-by Phoebe, no!
Let me not think, soft Angel! shall it be so?
Say, beautifullest, shall I never think?

305

O thou could'st foster me beyond the brink
Of recollection! make my watchful care
Close up its bloodshot eyes, nor see despair!
Do gently murder half my soul, and I

(291-2) The draft reads Sob for sigh, and begins line 292 with And look'd quite dead.

(297) The gentleness of summer wind seems to have been a cherished idea with Keats. Compare Sleep and Poetry, line 1

What is more gentle than a wind in summer?

(304) In the finished manuscript, shall't for shall it.

Shall feel the other half so utterly!—

I'm giddy at that cheek so fair and smooth;

310

O let it blush so ever! let it soothe

My madness! let it mantle rosy-warm'

With the tinge of love, panting in safe alarm.—

315

This cannot be thy hand, and yet it is;
And this is sure thine other softling—this
Thine own fair bosom, and I am so near!
Wilt fall asleep? O let me sip that tear!
And whisper one sweet word that I may know
This is this world-sweet dewy blossom!"-Woe!
Woe! Woe to that Endymion! Where is he?—
Even these words went echoing dismally
Through the wide forest-a most fearful tone,
Like one repenting in his latest moan;
And while it died away a shade pass'd by,

As of a thunder cloud. When arrows fly

320

325

Through the thick branches, poor ring-doves sleek forth
Their timid necks and tremble; so these both
Leant to each other trembling, and sat so
Waiting for some destruction-when lo,
Foot-feather'd Mercury appear'd sublime
Beyond the tall tree tops; and in less time

Than shoots the slanted hail-storm, down he dropt
Towards the ground; but rested not, nor stopt

330

(310-16) The draft reads thus at this point:

That-oh how beautiful-how giddy smooth!
Blush so for ever! let those glances soothe
My madness for did I no mercy spy
Dear lady I should shudder and then die.
This cannot be thy hand-and yet it is
And this thine other softling-and is this
Thine own fair bosom, and am I so near?