Burns in the heart of this delicious isle, "Tis not a tower of strength, though with its height Of Earth having assumed its form, then grown [we This isle and house are mine, and I have vowed Thee to be lady of the solitude. And I have fittted up some chambers there And wander in the meadows, or ascend The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend With lightest winds, to touch their paramour Which boil under our being's inmost cells, As mountain-springs under the morning Sun. In one another's substance finding food, The winged words on which my soul would pierce Weak verses, go, kneel at your Sovereign's feet, And say: We are the masters of thy slave ; "What wouldest thou with us and ours and thine ?" Then call your sisters from Oblivion's cave, All singing loud: "Love's very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine, Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave." So shall ye live when I am there. Then haste Over the hearts of men, until ye meet Marina, Vanna, Primus, and the rest, And bid them love each other, and be blest: And leave the troop which errs, and which reproves, And come and be my guest,-for I am Love's. ADONAIS: AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN KEATS. AUTHOR OF ENDYMION, HYPERION, ETC. 'Αστὴρ πρὶν μὲν ἔλαμπες ἐνὶ ζώοισιν ἑῶος. PLATO. PREFACE. Φάρμακον ἦλθε, Βίων, ποτὶ σὺν στόμα, φάρμακον εἶδες" Ir is my intention to subjoin to the London edition of this poem, a criticism upon the claims of its lamented object to be classed among the writers of the highest genius who have adorned our age. My known repugnance to the narrow principles of taste on which several of his earlier compositions were modelled, prove at least that I am an impartial judge. I consider the fragment of "Hyperion," as second to nothing that was ever produced by a writer of the same years. John Keats died at Rome, of a consumption, in his twenty-fourth year, on the 27th of December, 1820, and was buried in the romantic and lonely cemetery of the protestants in that city, under the pyramid which is the tomb of Cestius, and the massy walls and towers, now mouldering and desolate, which formed the circuit of ancient Rome. The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place. The genius of the lamented person to whose memory I have dedicated these unworthy verses, was not less delicate and fragile than it was beautiful; and where canker-worms abound, what wonder, if its young flower was blighted in the bud? The savage criticism on his "Endymion," which appeared in the Quarterly Review, produced the most violent effect on his susceptible mind; the agitation thus originated ended in the rupture of a bloodvessel in the lungs; a rapid consumption ensued; and the succeeding acknowledgments from more candid critics, of the true greatness of his powers, were ineffectual to heal the wound thus wantonly inflicted. It may well be said, that these wretched men know not what they do. They scatter their insults and their slanders without heed as to whether the 40 poisoned shaft lights on a heart made callous by many blows, or one, like Keats's, composed of more penetrable stuff. One of their associates is, to my knowledge, a most base and unprincipled calumniator. As to " Endymion," was it a poem, whatever might be its defects, to be treated contemptuously by those who had celebrated with various degrees of complacency and panegyric, « Paris," and, "Woman," and a "Syrian Tale," and Mrs. Lefanu, and Mr. Barret, and Mr. Howard Payne, and a long list of the illustrious obscure? Are these the men, who in their venal good-nature, presumed to draw a parallel between the Rev. Mr. Milman and Lord Byron? What gnat did they strain at here, after having swallowed all those camels? Against what woman taken in adultery dares the foremost of these literary prostitutes to cast his opprobrious stone? Miserable man! you, one of the meanest, have wantonly defaced one of the noblest specimens of the workmanship of God. Nor shall it be your excuse, that, murderer as you are, you have spoken daggers, but used none. The circumstances of the closing scene of poor Keats's life were not made known to me until the Elegy was ready for the press. I am given to understand that the wound which his sensitive spirit had received from the criticism of " Endymion" was exasperated at the bitter sense of unrequited benefits; the poor fellow seems to have been hooted from the stage of life, no less by those on whom he had wasted the promise of his genius, than those on whom he had lavished his fortune and his care. He was accompanied to Rome, and attended in his last illness by Mr. Severn, a young artist of the highest promise, who, I have been informed, "almost risked his own life, and sacrificed every prospect, to unwearied attendance upon his dying friend." Had I known these circumstances before the completion of my poem, I should have been tempted to add my feeble tribute of applause to the more solid recompense which the virtuous man finds in the recollection of his own motives. Mr. Severn can dispense with a reward from "such stuff as dreams are made of." His conduct is a golden augury of the success of his future careermay the extinguished Spirit of his illustrious friend animate the creations of his pencil, and plead against Oblivion for his name! Most musical of mourners, weep again! VI. But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perished, The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished, And fed with true love tears instead of dew; Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last, The bloom, whose petals nipt before they blew Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste; The broken lily lies--the storm is overpast. VII. To that high Capital, where kingly Death A grave among the eternal-Come away! VIII. He will awake no more, oh, never more! His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place ; IX. Oh, weep for Adonais!-The quick Dreams, Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain, Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of They ne'er will gather strength, nor find a home light. again. |