ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE. 197 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 beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, IV. 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, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown V. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs; But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; 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, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain- VII. Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird ! Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. AUTUMN. VIII. Forlorn the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music :-do I wake or sleep? 199 KEATS. AUTUMN. WHEN autumn, bleak and sunburnt, do appear, Bearing upon his back the ripèd sheaf; When all the hills with woody seed are white, When levying fires, and lemes, do meet from far the sight: When the fair apple, rudde as even sky, Do bend the tree unto the fructile ground; Methinks my heartes joy is stainèd with some care. CHATTERTON. EARTH AND HEAVEN. HAST thou not seen, impatient boy,- The thirsty boy repeats the taste, Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again. Earth has no unpolluted spring, From the cursed soil some dangerous taint they bear; In vain we seek a heaven below the sky; Earth, with her scenes of gay delight, KINDNESS OF YOUTH. But bring the nauseous daubing nigh, Coarse and confused the hideous figures lie, Dissolve the pleasure, and offend the eye. Look up, my soul, pant toward th' eternal hills; Nor grief disturbs the stream. That Canaan knows no noxious thing, No cursed soil, no tainted spring, Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting. KINDNESS OF YOUTH. 201 WATTS. Aн, then, what honest triumph flush'd my breast! This truth once known-To bless is to be blest! We led the bending beggar on his way (Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray); Soothed the keen pangs his aged spirit felt, And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. As in his scrip we dropt our little store, And wept to think that little was no more, He breathed his prayer, "Long may such goodness live!" 'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. ROGERS. |