330 335 340 345 350 355 "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, 66 Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;— "A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing." XXXVIII. "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride! 66 Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest 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, "For o'er the southern moors I have a home for XL. She hurried at his words, beset with fears, In all the house was heard no human sound. The arras rich with horseman, hawk, and Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar; 360 And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor. XLI. They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall; 365 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. 370 375 XLII. And they are gone: ay, ages long ago Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE (1819) I. My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 5 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, 10 But being too happy in thine happiness,- Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, II. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt 15 O for a beaker full of the warm South, 20 That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, III. Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; 25 Where palsy shakes a few, sad, gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; 30 Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-ey'd despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, IV. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: 35 Already with thee! tender is the night, 40 And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown ways. V. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows 45 The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; 50 And mid-May's eldest child, 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; 55 60 Now more than ever seems it rich to die, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain- VII. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! 65 Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, 70 She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath 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! 75 Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades 80 Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:-Do I wake or sleep? |