384 KEATS INEXTRICABLE CONSUMMATION—ISABELLA. Of ancient Nox; then skeletons of man, Of beast, behemoth, and leviathan, And elephant, and eagle- and huge jaw p. 111. There he finds ancient Glaucus enchanted by Circe hears his wild story and goes with him to the deliverance and restoration of thousands of drowned lovers, whose bodies were piled and stowed away in a large submarine palace. When this feat is happily performed, he finds himself again on dry ground, with woods and waters around him; and cannot help falling desperately in love with a beautiful damsel whom he finds there. pining for some such consolation; and who tells a long story of having come from India in the train of Bacchus, and having strayed away from him into that forest! So they vow eternal fidelity; and are wafted up to heaven on flying horses; on which they sleep and dream among the stars; and then the lady melts away, and he is again alone upon the earth; but soon rejoins his Indian love, and agrees to give up his goddess, and live only for her: But she refuses, and says she is resolved to devote herself to the service of Diana: But, when she goes to accomplish that dedication, she turns out to be the goddess herself in a new shape! and finally exalts her lover with her to a blessed immortality! We have left ourselves room to say but little of the second volume; which is of a more miscellaneous character. Lamia is a Greek antique story, in the measure and taste of Endymion. Isabella is a paraphrase of the same tale of Boccacio which Mr. Cornwall has also imitated, under the title of " A Sicilian Story." It would be worth while to compare the two imitations; but we have no longer time for such a task. Mr. Keats has followed his original more closely, and has given a deep pathos to several of his stanzas. The widowed bride's discovery of the murdered body is very strikingly given. "Soon she turn'd up a soiled glove, whereon BOCCACIO'S ISABELLA. Then 'gan she work again; nor stay'd her care, And so she kneeled, with her locks all hoar, Three hours they labour'd at this travail sore; - And then the prize was all for Isabel! She drench'd away: and still she comb'd, and kept "Then in a silken scarf-sweet with the dews 385 The following lines from an ode to a Nightingale are equally distinguished for harmony and high poetic feeling: O for a beaker full of the warm South! Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, Fade far away! dissolve and quite forget What Thou among the leaves hast never known- Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; VOL. II. - C C Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, The voice I hear, this passing night, was heard The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn."- p. 108 — 111. We know nothing at once so truly fresh, genuine, and English, and, at the same time so full of poetical feeling, and Greek elegance and simplicity, as this address to Autumn: 66 Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun! With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run! Drows'd with the fumes of poppies; while thy hook Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours! "Where are the songs of Spring! Ay, where are they? Or sinking, as the light wind lives or dies! One of the sweetest of the smaller poems is that entitled "The Eve of St. Agnes:" though we can now afford but a scanty extract. The superstition is, that if a maiden goes to bed on that night, without supper, and never looks up after saying her prayers, till she falls asleep, she will see her destined husband by her bedside the moment she opens her eyes. The fair Madeline, who was in love with the gentle Porphyro, but thwarted by an imperious guardian, resolves to try this spell: and Porphyro, who has a suspicion of her purpose, naturally determines to do what he can to help it to a happy issue; and accordingly prevails on her ancient nurse to admit him to her virgin bower; where he watches reverently, till she sinks in slumber; - and then, arranging a most elegant dessert by her couch, and gently rousing her with a tender and favourite air, finally reveals himself, and persuades her to steal from the castle under his protection. The opening stanza is a fair specimen of the sweetness and force of the composition. St. Agnes Eve! Ah, bitter cold it was! 66 The owl, for all his feathers, was acold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold! Numb were the bedesman's fingers, while he told Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet virgin's picture, while his prayers he saith." But the glory and charm of the poem is in the description of the fair maiden's antique chamber, and of all that passes in that sweet and angel-guarded sanctuary: every part of which is touched with colours at once rich and delicate- and the whole chastened and harmonised, in the midst of its gorgeous distinctness, by a pervading grace and purity, that indicate not less clearly the exaltation than the refinement of the author's fancy. We cannot resist adding a good part of this de scription. "Out went the taper as she hurried in! Its little smoke in pallid moonshine died: SPELL, AND REPOSE, OF PURE MADELINE. 388 KEATS - No utter'd syllable or woe betide! But to her heart, her heart was voluble; Paining with eloquence her balmy side! A casement high and triple-arch'd there was, Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass; But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled! As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again! Stolen to this paradise, and so entranc'd, Porphyro gaz'd upon her empty dress, And listen'd to her breathing; if it chanc'd To sink into a slumb'rous tenderness? Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, And breath'd himself; -- then from the closet crept, And over the hush'd carpet silent stept. Then, by the bed-side, where the sinking moon |