KEATS. THE EVE OF ST. AGNES. I. ST. AGNES' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was! The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, Numb were the Beadsman's fingers while he told 5 Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. II. His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; 10 Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees: The sculptured dead, on each side seemed to freeze, 15 To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. III. Northward he turneth through a little door, And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue 20 But no already had his death-bell rung; The joys of all his life were said and sung; And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve. IV. That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft; The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide: Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: Stared, where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. V. 25 30 35 At length burst in the argent revelry, Numerous as shadows haunting fairily With plume, tiara, and all rich array, The brain, new-stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay 40 And turn, soul-thoughted, to one Lady there, As she had heard old dames full many times declare. 45 VI. They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 50 VII. Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: Pass by Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, And back retired; not cool'd by high disdain, But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere; She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. VIII. 55 60 She danced along with vague regardless eyes, 65 The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs 'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, 70 IX. So, purposing each moment to retire, She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors, 75 Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss-in sooth such things have been. X. He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell: Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel: For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul XI. Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame, The sound of merriment and chorus bland: 85 90 95 XII. 66 Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand: He had a fever late, and in the fit 100 He cursed thee and thine, both house and land: 66 66 And tell me how " Good Saints! not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier." XIII. He follow'd through a lowly archéd way, He found him in a little moonlight room, 66 Now tell me where is Madeline," said he, "O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom Which none but secret sisterhood may see, When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously." 105 ΠΙΟ 115 XIV. "St. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes' Eve- But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve." 120 125 XV. Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon, 130 But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold, And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old. 135 XVI. Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, A stratagem, that makes the beldame start: 66 A cruel man and impious thou art: 140 Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep and dream From wicked men like thee. Go, go! I deem Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem." XVII. "I will not harm her, by all saints I swear," Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace 145 |