330

To banish Even from her sky.
Sit thee there, and send abroad,
With a mind self-overawed,

Fancy, high-commissioned: - send her!
She has vassals to attend her:
She will bring, in spite of frost,
Beauties that the earth hath lost;
She will bring thee, altogether,
All delights of summer weather;
All the buds and bells of May,
From dewy sward or thorny spray;
All the heaped Autumn's wealth,
With a still, mysterious stealth:
She will mix these pleasures up
Like three fit wines in a cup,

And thou shalt quaff it: - thou shalt hear
Distant harvest-carols clear;

Rustle of the reapèd corn;

Sweet birds antheming the morn:

And, in the same moment - hark!

'Tis the early April lark,

Or the rooks, with busy caw,
Foraging for sticks and straw.
Thou shalt, at one glance, behold
The daisy and the marigold;

40

White-plumed lilies, and the first
Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst;
Shaded hyacinth, alway

Sapphire queen of the mid-May;
And every leaf, and every flower
Pearlèd with the self-same shower.
Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep
Meagre from its cellèd sleep;
And the snake all winter-thin
Cast on sunny bank its skin;
Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see
Hatching in the hawthorn-tree,
When the hen-bird's wing doth rest
Quiet on her mossy nest;

Then the hurry and alarm

When the bee-hive cast its swarm;
Acorns ripe down-pattering,
While the autumn breezes sing.

Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose;

Everything is spoilt by use:

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60

Where's the cheek that doth not fade,

Too much gazed at? Where's the maid

70

Whose lip mature is ever new?

Where's the eye, however blue,

Doth not weary? Where's the face
One would meet in every place?
Where's the voice, however soft,
One would hear so very oft?

At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.
Let, then, wingèd Fancy find
Thee a mistress to thy mind:
Dulcet-eyed as 'Ceres' daughter,
Ere the God of Torment taught her
How to frown and how to chide;
With a waist and with a side
White as Hebe's, when her zone
Slipped its golden clasp, and down
Fell her kirtle to her feet,

While she held the goblet sweet,

And Jove grew languid. - Break the mesh

Of the Fancy's silken leash;

Quickly break her prison-string

And such joys as these she'll bring.

Let the winged Fancy roam,

Pleasure never is at home.

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90

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI

I

Ан, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

II

Ah, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

III

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose

Fast withereth too.

IV

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful, a faery's child; Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.

V

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long; For sideways would she lean, and sing A faery's song.

VI

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

VII

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
"I love thee true."

VIII

She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she gazed and sighed deep, And there I shut her wild sad eyes— So kissed to sleep.