On ceiling-beam and old oak chair,
The parrot's cage, and panel square ;
And the warm angled winter-screen,
On which were many monsters seen,
Call'd doves of Siam, Lima mice,
And legless birds of Paradise,
Macaw, and tender Avadavat,

75

80

And silken-furr'd Angora cat.

Untir'd she read, her shadow still

Glower'd about, as it would fill

The room with wildest forms and shades,

85

As though some ghostly queen of spades
Had come to mock behind her back,
And dance, and ruffle her garments black.
Untir'd she read the legend page,
Of holy Mark, from youth to age,
On land, on sea, in pagan chains,
Rejoicing for his many pains.
Sometimes the learned eremite,

90

With golden star, or dagger bright,
Referr'd to pious poesies

95

Written in smallest crow-quill size

Beneath the text; and thus the rhyme

Was parcell'd out from time to time:

Als writith he of swevenis,

Men han beforne they wake in bliss,

Whanne that hir friendes thinke him bound

In crimped shroude farre under grounde;
And how a litling child mote be

100

A saint er its nativitie,

Gif that the modre (God her blesse !)

105

Kepen in solitarinesse,

And kissen devoute the holy croce.

Of Goddes love, and Sathan's force,

He writith; and thinges many mo
Of swiche thinges I may not show.
Bot I must tellen verilie

Somdel of Saintè Cicilie,

And chieflie what he auctorethe
Of Sainte Markis life and dethe:"

At length her constant eyelids come
Upon the fervent martyrdom ;
Then lastly to his holy shrine,
Exalt amid the tapers' shine
At Venice,-

ODE TO FANNY.

I.

PHYS

HYSICIAN Nature! let my spirit blood! O ease my heart of verse and let me rest; Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood

Of stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast.
A theme! a theme! great nature! give a theme;
Let me begin my dream.

I come-I see thee, as thou standest there,
Beckon me not into the wintry air.

2.

Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears,
And hopes, and joys, and panting miseries,-
To-night, if I may guess, thy beauty wears
A smile of such delight,

As brilliant and as bright,

As when with ravished, aching, vassal eyes,
Lost in soft amaze,

I gaze, I gaze!

This poem was first given among the Literary Remains in 1848 without any date. The phase of feeling it represents was one of such frequent recurrence that, in the absence of direct evidence, no exact date can be assigned; but it seems very likely that the early part of 1819 would be the time. The first letter to Miss Brawne from Shanklin, written on the 3rd of July, corresponds with this poem in tone and thought, and might tend to fix the date wrongly in the reader's mind, but if it be allowable to take the expression

3.

Who now, with greedy looks, eats up my feast?
What stare outfaces now my silver moon!
Ah! keep that hand unravished at the least;
Let, let, the amorous burn-

But, pr'ythee, do not turn

The current of your heart from me so soon.

O! save, in charity,

The quickest pulse for me.

4.

Save it for me, sweet love! though music breathe
Voluptuous visions into the warm air,

Though swimming through the dance's dangerous wreath;

Be like an April day,

Smiling and cold and gay,

A temperate lilly, temperate as fair;
Then, Heaven! there will be

A warmer June for me.

5.

Why, this you'll say, my Fanny! is not true:
Put your soft hand upon your snowy side,
Where the heart beats: confess-'tis nothing new-

wintry air in stanza 1 literally, and to accept stanza 7 as indicating that the young couple had really but lately come to an understanding when the ode was written, the probability is that it was composed during his absence at Chichester in January-in contemplation of some New Year dance at Hampstead at which Miss Brawne was to be. I have never seen a manuscript of this poem ; but upon

Must not a woman be

A feather on the sea,

Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide?
Of as uncertain speed

As blow-ball from the mead?

6.

I know it-and to know it is despair

To one who loves you as I love, sweet Fanny! Whose heart goes fluttering for you every where, Nor, when away you roam,

Dare keep its wretched home,

Love, love alone, his pains severe and many:
Then, loveliest! keep me free,

From torturing jealousy.

7.

Ah! if you prize my subdu'd soul above

The poor, the fading, brief, pride of an hour; Let none profane my Holy See of love,

Or with a rude hand break

The sacramental cake :

Let none else touch the just new-budded flower;
If not-may my eyes close,
Love! on their lost repose.

internal evidence I should be disposed to think that the word not in the last line of stanza I should be out; that the last line but one of stanza 2 should be

Lost in a soft amaze,

and that the a has been dropped by accident.