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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lamia, by John Keats[Poetry/Poem]
+#1 in our series Lamia, by John Keats
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+John Keats
+
+LAMIA
+
+January, 2001  [Etext #2490]
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lamia, by John Keats[Poetry/Poem]
+******This file should be named lamia10.txt or lamia10.zip******
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+
+
+
+
+
+John Keats
+
+LAMIA
+
+Part 1
+Upon a time, before the faery broods
+Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
+Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
+Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
+Frighted away the Dryads and the Fauns
+From rushes green, and brakes, and cowslip'd lawns,
+The ever-smitten Hermes empty left
+His golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft:
+From high Olympus had he stolen light,
+On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sight
+Of his great summoner, and made retreat
+Into a forest on the shores of Crete.
+For somewhere in that sacred island dwelt
+A nymph, to whom all hoofed Satyrs knelt;
+At whose white feet the languid Tritons poured
+Pearls, while on land they wither'd and adored.
+Fast by the springs where she to bathe was wont,
+And in those meads where sometime she might haunt,
+Were strewn rich gifts, unknown to any Muse,
+Though Fancy's casket were unlock'd to choose.
+Ah, what a world of love was at her feet!
+So Hermes thought, and a celestial heat
+Burnt from his winged heels to either ear,
+That from a whiteness, as the lily clear,
+Blush'd into roses 'mid his golden hair,
+Fallen in jealous curls about his shoulders bare.
+From vale to vale, from wood to wood, he flew,
+Breathing upon the flowers his passion new,
+And wound with many a river to its head,
+To find where this sweet nymph prepar'd her secret bed:
+In vain; the sweet nymph might nowhere be found,
+And so he rested, on the lonely ground,
+Pensive, and full of painful jealousies
+Of the Wood-Gods, and even the very trees.
+There as he stood, he heard a mournful voice,
+Such as once heard, in gentle heart, destroys
+All pain but pity: thus the lone voice spake:
+"When from this wreathed tomb shall I awake!
+When move in a sweet body fit for life,
+And love, and pleasure, and the ruddy strife
+Of hearts and lips! Ah, miserable me!"
+The God, dove-footed, glided silently
+Round bush and tree, soft-brushing, in his speed,
+The taller grasses and full-flowering weed,
+Until he found a palpitating snake,
+Bright, and cirque-couchant in a dusky brake.
+
+   She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,
+Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue;
+Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard,
+Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd;
+And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed,
+Dissolv'd, or brighter shone, or interwreathed
+Their lustres with the gloomier tapestries -
+So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries,
+She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf,
+Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
+Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire
+Sprinkled with stars, like Ariadne's tiar:
+Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!
+She had a woman's mouth with all its pearls complete:
+And for her eyes: what could such eyes do there
+But weep, and weep, that they were born so fair?
+As Proserpine still weeps for her Sicilian air.
+Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake
+Came, as through bubbling honey, for Love's sake,
+And thus; while Hermes on his pinions lay,
+Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey.
+
+   "Fair Hermes, crown'd with feathers, fluttering light,
+I had a splendid dream of thee last night:
+I saw thee sitting, on a throne of gold,
+Among the Gods, upon Olympus old,
+The only sad one; for thou didst not hear
+The soft, lute-finger'd Muses chaunting clear,
+Nor even Apollo when he sang alone,
+Deaf to his throbbing throat's long, long melodious moan.
+I dreamt I saw thee, robed in purple flakes,
+Break amorous through the clouds, as morning breaks,
+And, swiftly as a bright Phoebean dart,
+Strike for the Cretan isle; and here thou art!
+Too gentle Hermes, hast thou found the maid?"
+Whereat the star of Lethe not delay'd
+His rosy eloquence, and thus inquired:
+"Thou smooth-lipp'd serpent, surely high inspired!
+Thou beauteous wreath, with melancholy eyes,
+Possess whatever bliss thou canst devise,
+Telling me only where my nymph is fled, -
+Where she doth breathe!" "Bright planet, thou hast said,"
+Return'd the snake, "but seal with oaths, fair God!"
+"I swear," said Hermes, "by my serpent rod,
+And by thine eyes, and by thy starry crown!"
+Light flew his earnest words, among the blossoms blown.
+Then thus again the brilliance feminine:
+"Too frail of heart! for this lost nymph of thine,
+Free as the air, invisibly, she strays
+About these thornless wilds; her pleasant days
+She tastes unseen; unseen her nimble feet
+Leave traces in the grass and flowers sweet;
+From weary tendrils, and bow'd branches green,
+She plucks the fruit unseen, she bathes unseen:
+And by my power is her beauty veil'd
+To keep it unaffronted, unassail'd
+By the love-glances of unlovely eyes,
+Of Satyrs, Fauns, and blear'd Silenus' sighs.
+Pale grew her immortality, for woe
+Of all these lovers, and she grieved so
+I took compassion on her, bade her steep
+Her hair in weird syrops, that would keep
+Her loveliness invisible, yet free
+To wander as she loves, in liberty.
+Thou shalt behold her, Hermes, thou alone,
+If thou wilt, as thou swearest, grant my boon!"
+Then, once again, the charmed God began
+An oath, and through the serpent's ears it ran
+Warm, tremulous, devout, psalterian.
+Ravish'd, she lifted her Circean head,
+Blush'd a live damask, and swift-lisping said,
+"I was a woman, let me have once more
+A woman's shape, and charming as before.
+I love a youth of Corinth - O the bliss!
+Give me my woman's form, and place me where he is.
+Stoop, Hermes, let me breathe upon thy brow,
+And thou shalt see thy sweet nymph even now."
+The God on half-shut feathers sank serene,
+She breath'd upon his eyes, and swift was seen
+Of both the guarded nymph near-smiling on the green.
+It was no dream; or say a dream it was,
+Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass
+Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
+One warm, flush'd moment, hovering, it might seem
+Dash'd by the wood-nymph's beauty, so he burn'd;
+Then, lighting on the printless verdure, turn'd
+To the swoon'd serpent, and with languid arm,
+Delicate, put to proof the lythe Caducean charm.
+So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent,
+Full of adoring tears and blandishment,
+And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane,
+Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain
+Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
+That faints into itself at evening hour:
+But the God fostering her chilled hand,
+She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd bland,
+And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,
+Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.
+Into the green-recessed woods they flew;
+Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.
+
+   Left to herself, the serpent now began
+To change; her elfin blood in madness ran,
+Her mouth foam'd, and the grass, therewith besprent,
+Wither'd at dew so sweet and virulent;
+Her eyes in torture fix'd, and anguish drear,
+Hot, glaz'd, and wide, with lid-lashes all sear,
+Flash'd phosphor and sharp sparks, without one cooling tear.
+The colours all inflam'd throughout her train,
+She writh'd about, convuls'd with scarlet pain:
+A deep volcanian yellow took the place
+Of all her milder-mooned body's grace;
+And, as the lava ravishes the mead,
+Spoilt all her silver mail, and golden brede;
+Made gloom of all her frecklings, streaks and bars,
+Eclips'd her crescents, and lick'd up her stars:
+So that, in moments few, she was undrest
+Of all her sapphires, greens, and amethyst,
+And rubious-argent: of all these bereft,
+Nothing but pain and ugliness were left.
+Still shone her crown; that vanish'd, also she
+Melted and disappear'd as suddenly;
+And in the air, her new voice luting soft,
+Cried, "Lycius! gentle Lycius!" - Borne aloft
+With the bright mists about the mountains hoar
+These words dissolv'd: Crete's forests heard no more.
+
+   Whither fled Lamia, now a lady bright,
+A full-born beauty new and exquisite?
+She fled into that valley they pass o'er
+Who go to Corinth from Cenchreas' shore;
+And rested at the foot of those wild hills,
+The rugged founts of the Peraean rills,
+And of that other ridge whose barren back
+Stretches, with all its mist and cloudy rack,
+South-westward to Cleone. There she stood
+About a young bird's flutter from a wood,
+Fair, on a sloping green of mossy tread,
+By a clear pool, wherein she passioned
+To see herself escap'd from so sore ills,
+While her robes flaunted with the daffodils.
+
+   Ah, happy Lycius! - for she was a maid
+More beautiful than ever twisted braid,
+Or sigh'd, or blush'd, or on spring-flowered lea
+Spread a green kirtle to the minstrelsy:
+A virgin purest lipp'd, yet in the lore
+Of love deep learned to the red heart's core:
+Not one hour old, yet of sciential brain
+To unperplex bliss from its neighbour pain;
+Define their pettish limits, and estrange
+Their points of contact, and swift counterchange;
+Intrigue with the specious chaos, and dispart
+Its most ambiguous atoms with sure art;
+As though in Cupid's college she had spent
+Sweet days a lovely graduate, still unshent,
+And kept his rosy terms in idle languishment.
+
+   Why this fair creature chose so fairily
+By the wayside to linger, we shall see;
+But first 'tis fit to tell how she could muse
+And dream, when in the serpent prison-house,
+Of all she list, strange or magnificent:
+How, ever, where she will'd, her spirit went;
+Whether to faint Elysium, or where
+Down through tress-lifting waves the Nereids fair
+Wind into Thetis' bower by many a pearly stair;
+Or where God Bacchus drains his cups divine,
+Stretch'd out, at ease, beneath a glutinous pine;
+Or where in Pluto's gardens palatine
+Mulciber's columns gleam in far piazzian line.
+And sometimes into cities she would send
+Her dream, with feast and rioting to blend;
+And once, while among mortals dreaming thus,
+She saw the young Corinthian Lycius
+Charioting foremost in the envious race,
+Like a young Jove with calm uneager face,
+And fell into a swooning love of him.
+Now on the moth-time of that evening dim
+He would return that way, as well she knew,
+To Corinth from the shore; for freshly blew
+The eastern soft wind, and his galley now
+Grated the quaystones with her brazen prow
+In port Cenchreas, from Egina isle
+Fresh anchor'd; whither he had been awhile
+To sacrifice to Jove, whose temple there
+Waits with high marble doors for blood and incense rare.
+Jove heard his vows, and better'd his desire;
+For by some freakful chance he made retire
+From his companions, and set forth to walk,
+Perhaps grown wearied of their Corinth talk:
+Over the solitary hills he fared,
+Thoughtless at first, but ere eve's star appeared
+His phantasy was lost, where reason fades,
+In the calm'd twilight of Platonic shades.
+Lamia beheld him coming, near, more near -
+Close to her passing, in indifference drear,
+His silent sandals swept the mossy green;
+So neighbour'd to him, and yet so unseen
+She stood: he pass'd, shut up in mysteries,
+His mind wrapp'd like his mantle, while her eyes
+Follow'd his steps, and her neck regal white
+Turn'd - syllabling thus, "Ah, Lycius bright,
+And will you leave me on the hills alone?
+Lycius, look back! and be some pity shown."
+He did; not with cold wonder fearingly,
+But Orpheus-like at an Eurydice;
+For so delicious were the words she sung,
+It seem'd he had lov'd them a whole summer long:
+And soon his eyes had drunk her beauty up,
+Leaving no drop in the bewildering cup,
+And still the cup was full, - while he afraid
+Lest she should vanish ere his lip had paid
+Due adoration, thus began to adore;
+Her soft look growing coy, she saw his chain so sure:
+"Leave thee alone! Look back! Ah, Goddess, see
+Whether my eyes can ever turn from thee!
+For pity do not this sad heart belie -
+Even as thou vanishest so I shall die.
+Stay! though a Naiad of the rivers, stay!
+To thy far wishes will thy streams obey:
+Stay! though the greenest woods be thy domain,
+Alone they can drink up the morning rain:
+Though a descended Pleiad, will not one
+Of thine harmonious sisters keep in tune
+Thy spheres, and as thy silver proxy shine?
+So sweetly to these ravish'd ears of mine
+Came thy sweet greeting, that if thou shouldst fade
+Thy memory will waste me to a shade -
+For pity do not melt!" - "If I should stay,"
+Said Lamia, "here, upon this floor of clay,
+And pain my steps upon these flowers too rough,
+What canst thou say or do of charm enough
+To dull the nice remembrance of my home?
+Thou canst not ask me with thee here to roam
+Over these hills and vales, where no joy is, -
+Empty of immortality and bliss!
+Thou art a scholar, Lycius, and must know
+That finer spirits cannot breathe below
+In human climes, and live: Alas! poor youth,
+What taste of purer air hast thou to soothe
+My essence? What serener palaces,
+Where I may all my many senses please,
+And by mysterious sleights a hundred thirsts appease?
+It cannot be - Adieu!" So said, she rose
+Tiptoe with white arms spread. He, sick to lose
+The amorous promise of her lone complain,
+Swoon'd, murmuring of love, and pale with pain.
+The cruel lady, without any show
+Of sorrow for her tender favourite's woe,
+But rather, if her eyes could brighter be,
+With brighter eyes and slow amenity,
+Put her new lips to his, and gave afresh
+The life she had so tangled in her mesh:
+And as he from one trance was wakening
+Into another, she began to sing,
+Happy in beauty, life, and love, and every thing,
+A song of love, too sweet for earthly lyres,
+While, like held breath, the stars drew in their panting fires
+And then she whisper'd in such trembling tone,
+As those who, safe together met alone
+For the first time through many anguish'd days,
+Use other speech than looks; bidding him raise
+His drooping head, and clear his soul of doubt,
+For that she was a woman, and without
+Any more subtle fluid in her veins
+Than throbbing blood, and that the self-same pains
+Inhabited her frail-strung heart as his.
+And next she wonder'd how his eyes could miss
+Her face so long in Corinth, where, she said,
+She dwelt but half retir'd, and there had led
+Days happy as the gold coin could invent
+Without the aid of love; yet in content
+Till she saw him, as once she pass'd him by,
+Where 'gainst a column he leant thoughtfully
+At Venus' temple porch, 'mid baskets heap'd
+Of amorous herbs and flowers, newly reap'd
+Late on that eve, as 'twas the night before
+The Adonian feast; whereof she saw no more,
+But wept alone those days, for why should she adore?
+Lycius from death awoke into amaze,
+To see her still, and singing so sweet lays;
+Then from amaze into delight he fell
+To hear her whisper woman's lore so well;
+And every word she spake entic'd him on
+To unperplex'd delight and pleasure known.
+Let the mad poets say whate'er they please
+Of the sweets of Fairies, Peris, Goddesses,
+There is not such a treat among them all,
+Haunters of cavern, lake, and waterfall,
+As a real woman, lineal indeed
+From Pyrrha's pebbles or old Adam's seed.
+Thus gentle Lamia judg'd, and judg'd aright,
+That Lycius could not love in half a fright,
+So threw the goddess off, and won his heart
+More pleasantly by playing woman's part,
+With no more awe than what her beauty gave,
+That, while it smote, still guaranteed to save.
+Lycius to all made eloquent reply,
+Marrying to every word a twinborn sigh;
+And last, pointing to Corinth, ask'd her sweet,
+If 'twas too far that night for her soft feet.
+The way was short, for Lamia's eagerness
+Made, by a spell, the triple league decrease
+To a few paces; not at all surmised
+By blinded Lycius, so in her comprized.
+They pass'd the city gates, he knew not how
+So noiseless, and he never thought to know.
+
+   As men talk in a dream, so Corinth all,
+Throughout her palaces imperial,
+And all her populous streets and temples lewd,
+Mutter'd, like tempest in the distance brew'd,
+To the wide-spreaded night above her towers.
+Men, women, rich and poor, in the cool hours,
+Shuffled their sandals o'er the pavement white,
+Companion'd or alone; while many a light
+Flared, here and there, from wealthy festivals,
+And threw their moving shadows on the walls,
+Or found them cluster'd in the corniced shade
+Of some arch'd temple door, or dusky colonnade.
+
+   Muffling his face, of greeting friends in fear,
+Her fingers he press'd hard, as one came near
+With curl'd gray beard, sharp eyes, and smooth bald crown,
+Slow-stepp'd, and robed in philosophic gown:
+Lycius shrank closer, as they met and past,
+Into his mantle, adding wings to haste,
+While hurried Lamia trembled: "Ah," said he,
+"Why do you shudder, love, so ruefully?
+Why does your tender palm dissolve in dew?" -
+"I'm wearied," said fair Lamia: "tell me who
+Is that old man? I cannot bring to mind
+His features - Lycius! wherefore did you blind
+Yourself from his quick eyes?" Lycius replied,
+'Tis Apollonius sage, my trusty guide
+And good instructor; but to-night he seems
+The ghost of folly haunting my sweet dreams.
+
+   While yet he spake they had arrived before
+A pillar'd porch, with lofty portal door,
+Where hung a silver lamp, whose phosphor glow
+Reflected in the slabbed steps below,
+Mild as a star in water; for so new,
+And so unsullied was the marble hue,
+So through the crystal polish, liquid fine,
+Ran the dark veins, that none but feet divine
+Could e'er have touch'd there. Sounds Aeolian
+Breath'd from the hinges, as the ample span
+Of the wide doors disclos'd a place unknown
+Some time to any, but those two alone,
+And a few Persian mutes, who that same year
+Were seen about the markets: none knew where
+They could inhabit; the most curious
+Were foil'd, who watch'd to trace them to their house:
+And but the flitter-winged verse must tell,
+For truth's sake, what woe afterwards befel,
+'Twould humour many a heart to leave them thus,
+Shut from the busy world of more incredulous.
+
+
+Part 2
+love in a hut, with water and a crust,
+Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust;
+Love in a palace is perhaps at last
+More grievous torment than a hermit's fast -
+That is a doubtful tale from faery land,
+Hard for the non-elect to understand.
+Had Lycius liv'd to hand his story down,
+He might have given the moral a fresh frown,
+Or clench'd it quite: but too short was their bliss
+To breed distrust and hate, that make the soft voice hiss.
+Besides, there, nightly, with terrific glare,
+Love, jealous grown of so complete a pair,
+Hover'd and buzz'd his wings, with fearful roar,
+Above the lintel of their chamber door,
+And down the passage cast a glow upon the floor.
+
+   For all this came a ruin: side by side
+They were enthroned, in the even tide,
+Upon a couch, near to a curtaining
+Whose airy texture, from a golden string,
+Floated into the room, and let appear
+Unveil'd the summer heaven, blue and clear,
+Betwixt two marble shafts: - there they reposed,
+Where use had made it sweet, with eyelids closed,
+Saving a tythe which love still open kept,
+That they might see each other while they almost slept;
+When from the slope side of a suburb hill,
+Deafening the swallow's twitter, came a thrill
+Of trumpets - Lycius started - the sounds fled,
+But left a thought, a buzzing in his head.
+For the first time, since first he harbour'd in
+That purple-lined palace of sweet sin,
+His spirit pass'd beyond its golden bourn
+Into the noisy world almost forsworn.
+The lady, ever watchful, penetrant,
+Saw this with pain, so arguing a want
+Of something more, more than her empery
+Of joys; and she began to moan and sigh
+Because he mused beyond her, knowing well
+That but a moment's thought is passion's passing bell.
+"Why do you sigh, fair creature?" whisper'd he:
+"Why do you think?" return'd she tenderly:
+"You have deserted me - where am I now?
+Not in your heart while care weighs on your brow:
+No, no, you have dismiss'd me; and I go
+From your breast houseless: ay, it must be so."
+He answer'd, bending to her open eyes,
+Where he was mirror'd small in paradise,
+My silver planet, both of eve and morn!
+Why will you plead yourself so sad forlorn,
+While I am striving how to fill my heart
+With deeper crimson, and a double smart?
+How to entangle, trammel up and snare
+Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there
+Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?
+Ay, a sweet kiss - you see your mighty woes.
+My thoughts! shall I unveil them? Listen then!
+What mortal hath a prize, that other men
+May be confounded and abash'd withal,
+But lets it sometimes pace abroad majestical,
+And triumph, as in thee I should rejoice
+Amid the hoarse alarm of Corinth's voice.
+Let my foes choke, and my friends shout afar,
+While through the thronged streets your bridal car
+Wheels round its dazzling spokes." The lady's cheek
+Trembled; she nothing said, but, pale and meek,
+Arose and knelt before him, wept a rain
+Of sorrows at his words; at last with pain
+Beseeching him, the while his hand she wrung,
+To change his purpose. He thereat was stung,
+Perverse, with stronger fancy to reclaim
+Her wild and timid nature to his aim:
+Besides, for all his love, in self despite,
+Against his better self, he took delight
+Luxurious in her sorrows, soft and new.
+His passion, cruel grown, took on a hue
+Fierce and sanguineous as 'twas possible
+In one whose brow had no dark veins to swell.
+Fine was the mitigated fury, like
+Apollo's presence when in act to strike
+The serpent - Ha, the serpent! certes, she
+Was none. She burnt, she lov'd the tyranny,
+And, all subdued, consented to the hour
+When to the bridal he should lead his paramour.
+Whispering in midnight silence, said the youth,
+"Sure some sweet name thou hast, though, by my truth,
+I have not ask'd it, ever thinking thee
+Not mortal, but of heavenly progeny,
+As still I do. Hast any mortal name,
+Fit appellation for this dazzling frame?
+Or friends or kinsfolk on the citied earth,
+To share our marriage feast and nuptial mirth?"
+"I have no friends," said Lamia," no, not one;
+My presence in wide Corinth hardly known:
+My parents' bones are in their dusty urns
+Sepulchred, where no kindled incense burns,
+Seeing all their luckless race are dead, save me,
+And I neglect the holy rite for thee.
+Even as you list invite your many guests;
+But if, as now it seems, your vision rests
+With any pleasure on me, do not bid
+Old Apollonius - from him keep me hid."
+Lycius, perplex'd at words so blind and blank,
+Made close inquiry; from whose touch she shrank,
+Feigning a sleep; and he to the dull shade
+Of deep sleep in a moment was betray'd
+
+   It was the custom then to bring away
+The bride from home at blushing shut of day,
+Veil'd, in a chariot, heralded along
+By strewn flowers, torches, and a marriage song,
+With other pageants: but this fair unknown
+Had not a friend. So being left alone,
+(Lycius was gone to summon all his kin)
+And knowing surely she could never win
+His foolish heart from its mad pompousness,
+She set herself, high-thoughted, how to dress
+The misery in fit magnificence.
+She did so, but 'tis doubtful how and whence
+Came, and who were her subtle servitors.
+About the halls, and to and from the doors,
+There was a noise of wings, till in short space
+The glowing banquet-room shone with wide-arched grace.
+A haunting music, sole perhaps and lone
+Supportress of the faery-roof, made moan
+Throughout, as fearful the whole charm might fade.
+Fresh carved cedar, mimicking a glade
+Of palm and plantain, met from either side,
+High in the midst, in honour of the bride:
+Two palms and then two plantains, and so on,
+From either side their stems branch'd one to one
+All down the aisled place; and beneath all
+There ran a stream of lamps straight on from wall to wall.
+So canopied, lay an untasted feast
+Teeming with odours. Lamia, regal drest,
+Silently paced about, and as she went,
+In pale contented sort of discontent,
+Mission'd her viewless servants to enrich
+The fretted splendour of each nook and niche.
+Between the tree-stems, marbled plain at first,
+Came jasper pannels; then, anon, there burst
+Forth creeping imagery of slighter trees,
+And with the larger wove in small intricacies.
+Approving all, she faded at self-will,
+And shut the chamber up, close, hush'd and still,
+Complete and ready for the revels rude,
+When dreadful guests would come to spoil her solitude.
+
+   The day appear'd, and all the gossip rout.
+O senseless Lycius! Madman! wherefore flout
+The silent-blessing fate, warm cloister'd hours,
+And show to common eyes these secret bowers?
+The herd approach'd; each guest, with busy brain,
+Arriving at the portal, gaz'd amain,
+And enter'd marveling: for they knew the street,
+Remember'd it from childhood all complete
+Without a gap, yet ne'er before had seen
+That royal porch, that high-built fair demesne;
+So in they hurried all, maz'd, curious and keen:
+Save one, who look'd thereon with eye severe,
+And with calm-planted steps walk'd in austere;
+'Twas Apollonius: something too he laugh'd,
+As though some knotty problem, that had daft
+His patient thought, had now begun to thaw,
+And solve and melt - 'twas just as he foresaw.
+
+   He met within the murmurous vestibule
+His young disciple. "'Tis no common rule,
+Lycius," said he, "for uninvited guest
+To force himself upon you, and infest
+With an unbidden presence the bright throng
+Of younger friends; yet must I do this wrong,
+And you forgive me." Lycius blush'd, and led
+The old man through the inner doors broad-spread;
+With reconciling words and courteous mien
+Turning into sweet milk the sophist's spleen.
+
+   Of wealthy lustre was the banquet-room,
+Fill'd with pervading brilliance and perfume:
+Before each lucid pannel fuming stood
+A censer fed with myrrh and spiced wood,
+Each by a sacred tripod held aloft,
+Whose slender feet wide-swerv'd upon the soft
+Wool-woofed carpets: fifty wreaths of smoke
+From fifty censers their light voyage took
+To the high roof, still mimick'd as they rose
+Along the mirror'd walls by twin-clouds odorous.
+Twelve sphered tables, by silk seats insphered,
+High as the level of a man's breast rear'd
+On libbard's paws, upheld the heavy gold
+Of cups and goblets, and the store thrice told
+Of Ceres' horn, and, in huge vessels, wine
+Come from the gloomy tun with merry shine.
+Thus loaded with a feast the tables stood,
+Each shrining in the midst the image of a God.
+
+   When in an antichamber every guest
+Had felt the cold full sponge to pleasure press'd,
+By minist'ring slaves, upon his hands and feet,
+And fragrant oils with ceremony meet
+Pour'd on his hair, they all mov'd to the feast
+In white robes, and themselves in order placed
+Around the silken couches, wondering
+Whence all this mighty cost and blaze of wealth could spring.
+
+   Soft went the music the soft air along,
+While fluent Greek a vowel'd undersong
+Kept up among the guests discoursing low
+At first, for scarcely was the wine at flow;
+But when the happy vintage touch'd their brains,
+Louder they talk, and louder come the strains
+Of powerful instruments - the gorgeous dyes,
+The space, the splendour of the draperies,
+The roof of awful richness, nectarous cheer,
+Beautiful slaves, and Lamia's self, appear,
+Now, when the wine has done its rosy deed,
+And every soul from human trammels freed,
+No more so strange; for merry wine, sweet wine,
+Will make Elysian shades not too fair, too divine.
+Soon was God Bacchus at meridian height;
+Flush'd were their cheeks, and bright eyes double bright:
+Garlands of every green, and every scent
+From vales deflower'd, or forest-trees branch rent,
+In baskets of bright osier'd gold were brought
+High as the handles heap'd, to suit the thought
+Of every guest; that each, as he did please,
+Might fancy-fit his brows, silk-pillow'd at his ease.
+
+   What wreath for Lamia? What for Lycius?
+What for the sage, old Apollonius?
+Upon her aching forehead be there hung
+The leaves of willow and of adder's tongue;
+And for the youth, quick, let us strip for him
+The thyrsus, that his watching eyes may swim
+Into forgetfulness; and, for the sage,
+Let spear-grass and the spiteful thistle wage
+War on his temples. Do not all charms fly
+At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
+There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
+We know her woof, her texture; she is given
+In the dull catalogue of common things.
+Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,
+Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
+Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine -
+Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made
+The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
+
+   By her glad Lycius sitting, in chief place,
+Scarce saw in all the room another face,
+Till, checking his love trance, a cup he took
+Full brimm'd, and opposite sent forth a look
+'Cross the broad table, to beseech a glance
+From his old teacher's wrinkled countenance,
+And pledge him. The bald-head philosopher
+Had fix'd his eye, without a twinkle or stir
+Full on the alarmed beauty of the bride,
+Brow-beating her fair form, and troubling her sweet pride.
+Lycius then press'd her hand, with devout touch,
+As pale it lay upon the rosy couch:
+'Twas icy, and the cold ran through his veins;
+Then sudden it grew hot, and all the pains
+Of an unnatural heat shot to his heart.
+"Lamia, what means this? Wherefore dost thou start?
+Know'st thou that man?" Poor Lamia answer'd not.
+He gaz'd into her eyes, and not a jot
+Own'd they the lovelorn piteous appeal:
+More, more he gaz'd: his human senses reel:
+Some hungry spell that loveliness absorbs;
+There was no recognition in those orbs.
+"Lamia!" he cried - and no soft-toned reply.
+The many heard, and the loud revelry
+Grew hush; the stately music no more breathes;
+The myrtle sicken'd in a thousand wreaths.
+By faint degrees, voice, lute, and pleasure ceased;
+A deadly silence step by step increased,
+Until it seem'd a horrid presence there,
+And not a man but felt the terror in his hair.
+"Lamia!" he shriek'd; and nothing but the shriek
+With its sad echo did the silence break.
+"Begone, foul dream!" he cried, gazing again
+In the bride's face, where now no azure vein
+Wander'd on fair-spaced temples; no soft bloom
+Misted the cheek; no passion to illume
+The deep-recessed vision - all was blight;
+Lamia, no longer fair, there sat a deadly white.
+"Shut, shut those juggling eyes, thou ruthless man!
+Turn them aside, wretch! or the righteous ban
+Of all the Gods, whose dreadful images
+Here represent their shadowy presences,
+May pierce them on the sudden with the thorn
+Of painful blindness; leaving thee forlorn,
+In trembling dotage to the feeblest fright
+Of conscience, for their long offended might,
+For all thine impious proud-heart sophistries,
+Unlawful magic, and enticing lies.
+Corinthians! look upon that gray-beard wretch!
+Mark how, possess'd, his lashless eyelids stretch
+Around his demon eyes! Corinthians, see!
+My sweet bride withers at their potency."
+"Fool!" said the sophist, in an under-tone
+Gruff with contempt; which a death-nighing moan
+From Lycius answer'd, as heart-struck and lost,
+He sank supine beside the aching ghost.
+"Fool! Fool!" repeated he, while his eyes still
+Relented not, nor mov'd; "from every ill
+Of life have I preserv'd thee to this day,
+And shall I see thee made a serpent's prey?"
+Then Lamia breath'd death breath; the sophist's eye,
+Like a sharp spear, went through her utterly,
+Keen, cruel, perceant, stinging: she, as well
+As her weak hand could any meaning tell,
+Motion'd him to be silent; vainly so,
+He look'd and look'd again a level - No!
+"A Serpent!" echoed he; no sooner said,
+Than with a frightful scream she vanished:
+And Lycius' arms were empty of delight,
+As were his limbs of life, from that same night.
+On the high couch he lay! - his friends came round
+Supported him - no pulse, or breath they found,
+And, in its marriage robe, the heavy body wound.
+
+
+
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Lamia, by John Keats[Poetry/Poem]
+
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