CANTO I

The Castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas'
We lived right jollily.

I.

O MORTAL man, who livest here by toil,
Do not complain of this thy hard estate;
That like an emmet thou must ever moil,
Is a sad sentence of an ancient date;
And, certes, there is for it reason great;
For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and

wail,

And curse thy star, and early drudge and late; Withouten that would come a heavier bale, Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale.

II.

In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,

With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round, A most enchanting wizard did abide,

Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.

It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;

And there a season atween June and May, Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrown'd,

A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, No living wight could work, ne cared even for play.

III.

Was nought around but images of rest:
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between;
And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest,
From poppies breath'd; and beds of pleasant
green,

Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime, unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,

And hurled every where their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.

IV.

Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.

V.

Full in the passage of the vale, above,
A sable, silent, solemn forest stood;

Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to

move,

As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood:

And

up the hills, on either side, a wood Of blackening pines, aye waving to and fro, Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.

VI.

A pleasing land of drowsyhed it was,

Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer-sky: There eke the soft delights, that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast, And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh; But whate'er smack'd of noyance, or unrest, Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest.

VII.

The landskip such, inspiring perfect ease, Where INDOLENCE (for so the wizard hight) Close-hid his castle mid embowering trees, That half shut out the beams of Phoebus bright, And made a kind of checker'd day and night;

Meanwhile, unceasing at the massy gate, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Was placed; and to his lute, of cruel fate And labour harsh, complain'd, lamenting man's

estate.

VIII.

Thither continual pilgrims crowded still,
From all the roads of earth that pass there by:
For, as they chaunced to breathe on neighbour-
ing hill,

The freshness of this valley smote their eye,
And drew them ever and anon more nigh;
Till clustering round the enchanter false they
hung,

Ymolten with his syren melody;

While o'er the enfeebling lute his hand he flung, And to the trembling chords these tempting verses sung:

IX.

'Behold! ye pilgrims of this earth, behold! See all, but man, with unearn'd pleasure gay: See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May! What youthful bride can equal her array? Who can with her for easy pleasure vie? From mead to mead with gentle wing to stray, From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly, Is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky.