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Of the circumfluous waters, -every sphere
And every flower and beam and cloud and wave,
And every wind of the mute atmosphere,

The swcetest flowers are ever frail and rare,
And love and freedom blossom but to wither;
And good and ill like vines entangled are,
So that their grapes may oft be pluck'd together ;-
Divide the vintage ere thou drink, then make
Thy heart rejoice for dead Mazenghi's sake.

And every beast stretch'd in its rugged cave, And every bird lullid on its mossy bough, And every silver moth fresh from the grave,

Which is ils cradle-ever from below Aspiring like one who loves too fair, too far, To be consumed within the purest glow

Of one serene and unapproached star,
As if it were a lamp of earthly light,
Unconscious, as some human lovers are,

Itself how low, how high beyond all height
The heaven where it would perish!--and every form
That worshipp'd in the temple of the night

Was awed into delight, and by the charm
Girt as with an interminable zone,
Whilst that sweet bird, whose music was a storın

No record of his crime remains in story,
But if the morning bright as evening shone,
It was some high and holy deed, by glory
Pursued into forgetfulness, which won
From the blind crowd he made secure and free
The patriot's meed, toil, death, and infamy.
For when by sound of trumpet was declared
A price upon his life, and there was set
A penalty of blood on all wlio shared
So much of water with him as might wet
His lips, which speech divided noi- he went
Alone, as you may guess, to banishment.
Amid the mountains, like a hunted beast,
He hid himself, and hunger, cold, and toil,
Month after month endured ; it was a feast
Whene'er he found those globes of deep red gold
Which in the woods the strawberry-tree doth bear,
Suspended in their emerald atmosphere.
And in the roofless huts of vast morasses,
Deserted by the fever-stricken serf,
All overgrown with reeds and long rank grasses,
And hillocks heap'd of moss-inwoven turf,
And where the huge and speckled aloe made,
Rooted in stones, a broad and pointed shade,
He housed himself. There is a point of strand
Near Vada's tower and town; and on one side
The treacherous marsh divides it from the land,
Shadow'd by pine and ilex forests wide,
And on the other creeps eternally,
Through muddy weeds, the shallow, sullen sea.

Naples, 1818.

Of sound, shook forth the dull oblivion Out of their dreams; harmony became love In every soul but one

And so this man returnd with axe and saw At evening close from killing the tall treen, The soul of whom by nature's gentle law

Was cach a wood-nymph, and kept ever green The pavement and the roof of the wild copse, Chequering the suplight of the blue serene

With jagced leaves, and from the forest tops Singing the winds to sleep-or weeping oft Fast showers of aerial water-drops

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THE

POETICAL WORKS

OF

JOHN KEATS.

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