Thy bright team

955

When, from thy diadem, a silver gleam

Slants over blue dominion.

Gulphs in the morning light, and scuds along
To bring thee nearer to that golden song
Apollo singeth, while his chariot

Waits at the doors of heaven. Thou art not

For scenes like this: an empire stern hast thou;

960

And it hath furrow'd that large front: yet now,

As newly come of heaven, dost thou sit
To blend and interknit

Subdued majesty with this glad time,

O shell-borne King sublime!

We lay our hearts before thee evermore —
We sing, and we adore!

"Breathe softly, flutes;

Be tender of your strings, ye soothing lutes;
Nor be the trumpet heard!

O vain, O vain;

Not flowers budding in an April rain,

Nor breath of sleeping dove, nor river's flow,
No, nor the Eolian twang of Love's own bow,
Can mingle music fit for the soft ear

Of goddess Cytherea !

965

970

975

Yet deign, white Queen of Beauty, thy fair eyes
On our souls' sacrifice.

"Bright-winged Child!

Who has another care when thou hast smil'd?
Unfortunates on earth, we see at last
All death-shadows, and glooms that overcast
Our spirits, fann'd away by thy light pinions.

When thy bright diadem a silver gleam
O'er blue dominion starts. Thy finny team
Snorts in the morning light, and sends along...

Compare Hyperion, Book II, Line 236—

I saw him on the calmed waters scud,...

(960) The manuscript shows a cancelled reading, these for this.
(962) Woodhouse notes, presumably from the draft, the variation
Like a young child of heaven, dost thou sit...

(979) The draft reads

Who is not full of heaven when thou hast smil'd ?

980

To muse for ever - Then a lucid wave,
Scoop'd from its trembling sisters of mid-sea,
Afloat, and pillowing up the majesty

Of Doris, and the Ægean seer, her spouse
Next, on a dolphin, clad in laurel boughs,
Theban Amphion leaning on his lute:
His fingers went across it— All were mute
To gaze on Amphitrite, queen of pearls,
And Thetis pearly too.

985

990

995

1000

The palace whirls

1005

Around giddy Endymion; seeing he

Was there far strayed from mortality.

He could not bear it shut his eyes in vain;
Imagination gave a dizzier pain.

"O I shall die! sweet Venus, be my stay!
Where is my lovely mistress? Well-away!
I die I hear her voice I feel my wing-
At Neptune's feet he sank. A sudden ring

ΠΟΙΟ

(1000) Nereus, the son of Oceanus, who espoused his sister Doris, and had by her fifty daughters, the Nereides.

(1007) The draft gives this line thus

Was there, a stray lamb from mortality.

(1012) This line reads thus in the draft

I die- love calls me hence " -thus muttering...

Of Nereids were about him, in kind strife
To usher back his spirit into life:

But still he slept. At last they interwove
Their cradling arms, and purpos'd to convey
Towards a crystal bower far away.

Lo! while slow carried through the pitying crowd,
To his inward senses these words spake aloud;
Written in star-light on the dark above:
Dearest Endymion! my entire love!
How have I dwelt in fear of fate: 'tis done.
Immortal bliss for me too hast thou won.
Arise then! for the hen-dove shall not hatch
Her ready eggs, before I'll kissing snatch
Thee into endless heaven. Awake! awake!

The youth at once arose a placid lake
Came quiet to his eyes; and forest green,
Cooler than all the wonders he had seen,
Lull'd with its simple song his fluttering breast.
How happy once again in grassy nest!

(1015) After this line are the four following in the draft

They gave him nectar- shed bright drops, and strove
Long time in vain. At last they interwove

Their cradling arms, and carefully conveyed

His body towards a quiet bowery shade.

1015

1020

1025

1030

Perhaps the last three words were found inappropriate to the submarine scenery and thus led to the loss of the rhyme. In the finished manuscript, after Their cradling arms, and, Keats had written did his, probably meaning to complete the line with some such expression as body move; but he struck did his out and wrote carried him, then cancelled that, and supplied the reading of the text. Were it not for the greater propriety of the crystal bower, there would be a strong temptation to restore the reading of the draft, merely substituting crystal for bowery.

(1019) Cancelled readings, parting crowd for pitying crowd in the draft, and throng for crowd in the finished manuscript.

(1022) The draft reads my own entire love!

(1026) The draft reads madly for kissing.

(1032) At the end of this Book Keats wrote in the draft, "Oxf: Sept. 26."

ENDYMION.

BOOK IV.

TUSE of my native land! loftiest Muse!

Μυ

O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot :
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
While yet our England was a wolfish den;
Before our forests heard the talk of men;
Before the first of Druids was a child;
Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild
Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude.

5

There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:
Yet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine,
Apollo's garland: yet didst thou divine

Plain

Such home-bred glory, that they cry'd in vain,
"Come hither, Sister of the Island!"
Spake fair Ausonia; and once more she spake
A higher summons: - still didst thou betake
Thee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won
A full accomplishment! The thing is done,
Which undone, these our latter days had risen

15

(2) This line originally began with O Mountain-born in the draft, where also while stands cancelled in favour of by.

(6) The draft reads voice for talk, and in line 7 babe for child.

(10) Cancelled reading of the manuscript, an hebrew voice.

(II) The draft reads those nine. The references to the Hebrew, Greek, Roman, and Italian literatures are scarcely as clear and pointed as might have been expected from Keats.

(13) In the finished manuscript, in vain they cry'd.

(14) The draft gives from the Island.

(16) The draft reads In self surpassing summons.

(17) Originally an Alexandrine, in both the manuscripts

Thee to thyself and to thy hopes. O thou hast won

but altered in the second manuscript so as to correspond with the text.

(19) In the draft, thus

Which wanting all these latter days had dawnd...

On barren souls. Great Muse, thou know'st what prison,

Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets

Our spirit's wings: despondency besets

Our pillows; and the fresh to-morrow morn
Seems to give forth its light in very scorn
Of our dull, uninspired, snail-paced lives.
Long have I said, how happy he who shrives
To thee! But then I thought on poets gone,
And could not pray:
- nor can I now - so on

I move to the end in lowliness of heart.

20

25

“Ah, woe is me! that I should fondly part From my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid!

30

Glad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade
Adieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields!

To one so friendless the clear freshet yields
A bitter coolness; the ripe grape is sour:
Yet I would have, great gods! but one short hour
Of native air let me but die at home."

35

66

Is no one near to help me? No fair dawn
Of life from charitable voice? No sweet saying
To set my dull and sadden'd
No hand to toy with mine?

spirit playing?

No lips so sweet

(20) The draft reads Oh Muse, not Great Muse. (31) The draft reads With for From.

(34-6) In the draft lines 34 and 36 read thus

Where no friends are, the very freshet yields...

Then take my life, great Gods! for one short hour...

45

In the finished manuscript this last line originally began with And, which is struck out and replaced by Yet.

(41-2) Cancelled readings from the draft

(45) The draft reads hope for life; but neither manuscript affords any help to this ailing line. [Voice is evidently scanned as a dissylable. Am. Ed.]