Through sunny air. Add too, the sweetness

Of thy honey'd 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

25

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

40

45

ΤΟ

НОРЕ.

WHEN

HEN by my solitary hearth I sit,

And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.

Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night,

Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray, Should sad Despondency my musings fright,

5

And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,

Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof.

10

Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,
Strive for her son to seize my careless heart;

15

When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,
Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart :

Chace him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright,
And fright him as the morning frightens night!

Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear

Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,

20

O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow :
Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain,
From cruel parents, or relentless fair;
O let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

In the long vista of the years to roll,

Let me not see our country's honour fade:

O let me see our land retain her soul,

25

30

Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade.
From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed- 35
Beneath thy pinions canopy my head!

Let me not see the patriot's high bequest,
Great liberty! how great in plain attire!
With the base purple of a court oppress'd,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:

40

But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the skies with silver glitterings!

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star

Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;
Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar :
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.

February, 1815.

45

IMITATION OF SPENSER.

Now Morning from her orient chamber came,

And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill;
Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame,
Silv'ring the untainted gushes of its rill;

Which, pure from mossy beds, did down distill,
And after parting beds of simple flowers,
By many streams a little lake did fill,
Which round its marge reflected woven bowers,
And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers.

There the king-fisher saw his plumage bright
Vieing with fish of brilliant dye below;

The copy of these stanzas in Tom Keats's copy-book has a reading in line 12 which ought perhaps to supersede the printed text of 1817, namely, golden scalès light. It seems highly likely that Keats really meant to carry his archaism to the extent of making scales a dissyllable, especially as the metre is thus corrected. Lord Houghton states on the authority of the notes of Charles Armitage Brown, given to his lordship in 1832, that this is the earliest known composition of Keats, and was written while he was living at Edmonton.