The Complete Works: Poetry, Plays, Letters and Extensive Biographies. John Keats

      For what?

      [They whisper.

      First Lady. How ghast a train!

      Second Lady. Sure this should be some splendid burial.

      First Lady. What fearful whispering! See, see, Gersa there.

      Put on your brightest looks; smile if you can;

      Behave as all were happy; keep your eyes

      From the least watch upon him ;

      if he speaks

      To any one, answer collectedly,

      Without surprise, his questions, howe’er strange.

      Do this to the utmost, though, alas! with me

      The remedy grows hopeless! Here he comes,

      Observe what I have said, show no surprise.

      A splendid company! rare beauties here!

      I should have Orphean lips, and Plato’s fancy,

      Amphion’s utterance, toned with his lyre,

      Or the deep key of Jove’s sonorous mouth,

      To give fit salutation. Methought I heard,

      As I came in, some whispers, what of that?

      ’Tis natural men should whisper; at the kiss

      Of Psyche given by Love, there was a buzz

      Among the gods! and silence is as natural.

      These draperies are fine, and, being a mortal,

      I should desire no better; yet, in truth,

      There must be some superiour costliness,

      Some wider-domed high magnificence!

      I would have, as a mortal I may not,

      Hanging of heaven’s clouds, purple and gold,

      Slung from the spheres; gauzes of silver mist,

      Loop’d up with cords of twisted wreathed light,

      And tassell’d round with weeping meteors!

      These pendent lamps and chandeliers are bright

      As earthly fires from dull dross can be cleansed;

      Yet could my eyes drink up intenser beams

      Undazzled, this is darkness, when I close

      These lids, I see far fiercer brilliances,

      Skies full of splendid moons, and shooting stars,

      And spouting exhalations, diamond fires,

      And panting fountains quivering with deep glows!

      Yes this is dark is it not dark?

      My Lord,

      ’Tis late; the lights of festival are ever

      Quench’d in the morn.

      ’Tis not tomorrow then?

      Sigifred. ’Tis early dawn.

      Indeed full time we slept;

      Say you so, Prince?

      I say I quarreled with you ; We did not tilt each other, that’s a blessing,

      Good gods! no innocent blood upon my head!

      Retire, Gersa!

      There should be three more here:

      For two of them, they stay away perhaps,

      Being gloomy-minded, haters of fair revels,

      They know their own thoughts best.

      As for the third,

      Deep blue eyes semi-shaded in white lids,

      Finished with lashes fine for more soft shade,

      Completed by her twin-arch’d ebon brows

      White temples of exactest elegance,

      Of even mould felicitous and smooth

      Cheeks fashioned tenderly on either side,

      So perfect, so divine that our poor eyes

      Are dazzled with the sweet proportioning,

      And wonder that ’tis so, the magic chance!

      Her nostrils, small, fragrant, faery-delicate;

      Her lips -I swear no human bones e’er wore

      So taking a disguise you shall behold her!

      We’ll have her presently; aye, you shall see her,

      And wonder at her, friends, she is so fair

      She is the world’s chief Jewel, and by heaven

      She’s mine by right of marriage she is mine!

      Patience, good people, in fit time I send

      A Summoner she will obey my call,

      Being a wife most mild and dutiful.

      First I would hear what music is prepared

      To herald and receive her let me hear!

      Bid the musicians soothe him tenderly.

      [A soft strain of Music.

      Ye have none better no I am content;

      ’Tis a rich sobbing melody, with reliefs

      Full and majestic; it is well enough,

      And will be sweeter, when ye see her pace

      Sweeping into this presence, glisten’d o’er

      With emptied caskets, and her train upheld

      By ladies, habited in robes of lawn,

      Sprinkled with golden crescents; (others bright

      In silks, with spangles shower’d,) and bow’d to

      By Duchesses and pearled Margravines

      Sad, that the fairest creature of the earth

      I pray you mind me not ’tis sad, I say,

      That the extremest beauty of the world

      Should so entrench herself away from me,

      Behind a barrier of engender ‘d guilt!

      Second Lady. Ah! what a moan!

      First Knight. Most piteous indeed!