But not ta'en out. Why, there was not a slope
Up which he had not fear'd the antelope;
And not a tree, beneath whose rooty shade
He had not with his tamed leopards play'd:
Nor could an arrow light, or javelin,
Fly in the air where his had never been-
And yet he knew it not.

795

800

Dear brother mine!

Endymion, weep not so!

Why shouldst thou pine

805

When all great Latmus so exalt will be?
Thank the great gods, and look not bitterly;

And speak not one pale word, and sigh no more.
Sure I will not believe thou hast such store

Of grief, to last thee to my kiss again.

Thou surely canst not bear a mind in pain,
Come hand in hand with one so beautiful.
Be happy both of you! for I will pull

810

(791-2) The draft reads effaced for ta'en out and chaced for fear'd, which is of course used in its old sense of frightened.

(794) Woodhouse notes, presumably from the draft, the variation jessied falcons for tamed leopards.

(799) The finished manuscript does not help us to the missing rhyme; and Woodhouse notes nothing from the draft here, though against line 801 he records what is doubtless a variation from the draft, Peona kind and fair.

(805) Woodhouse notes the variation Dear Endy: weep, &c., which I should not like to accept literally without seeing the original.

(806) Here again as in Book III, line 449, the first edition reads Latmos though the manuscript reads Latmus.

(808) Another variation noted by Woodhouse is nor sigh once more for and sigh

no more.

(811) At this point Woodhouse gives the following passage, which is doubtless from the draft :

Were this sweet damsel like a long neck'd crane

Or an old rocking barn owl half asleep

Some reason would there be for thee to keep

So dull-eyed-but thou knowst she's beautiful

Yes, Yes! and thou dost love her well- I'll pull...

Our friends will all be there from nigh and far.

835

Many upon thy death have ditties made;

And many, even now, their foreheads shade

With cypress, on a day of sacrifice.

New singing for our maids shalt thou devise,

And pluck the sorrow from our huntsmen's brows.

840

Tell me, my lady-queen, how to espouse

This wayward brother to his rightful joys!

His eyes are on thee bent, as thou didst poise

His fate most goddess-like. Help me, I pray,
To lure Endymion, dear brother, say

845

What ails thee?" He could bear no more, and so

(815) Woodhouse notes the variation Great Pan's high priest. (816) Woodhouse notes the variation

This Shepherd Prince restor'd, thou, fairest dame,... (819) Woodhouse notes the following two variants of this line, from the draft and the other presumably from the same source:

(1) Perhaps ye feel too much joy- too overglad:
(2) Perhaps ye are too glad, too overglad.

one expressly

(825) The draft reads Into the long hours, so as to avoid the necessity for scanning hours as a dissyllable.

(827) In the draft thus

Why! hark ye! on this very eve will be...

(840) The draft has cypress for sorrow.

Bent his soul fiercely like a spiritual bow,

And twang'd it inwardly, and calmly said:

I would have thee my only friend, sweet maid!

My only visitor! not ignorant though,

850

That those deceptions which for pleasure go

'Mong men, are pleasures real as real may be:
But there are higher ones I may not see,
If impiously an earthly realm I take.
Since I saw thee, I have been wide awake
Night after night, and day by day, until
Of the empyrean I have drunk my fill.
Let it content thee, Sister, seeing me
More happy than betides mortality.

855

A hermit young, I'll live in mossy cave,

860

Where thou alone shalt come to me, and lave

This may sound strangely: but when, dearest girl,
Thou seest it for my happiness, no pearl

Will trespass down those cheeks. Companion fair!

870

Wilt be content to dwell with her, to share

This sister's love with me?" Like one resign'd

And bent by circumstance, and thereby blind
In self-commitment, thus that meek unknown:
Aye, but a buzzing by my ears has flown,
Of jubilee to Dian: - truth I heard?

66

Well then, I see there is no little bird,
Tender soever, but is Jove's own care.

(853) In the draft, But I have &c.

(862) Woodhouse notes the variation will for shall.

(866) Woodhouse notes the variation With thee ev'n as a sister. (874) Woodhouse notes the variation mild for meek.

875

(876) This line ends with a note of exclamation in the first edition, but with a note of interrogation both in the finished manuscript and in the corrected copy. Woodhouse does not cite the draft on this point.

(877-8) A curious importation from Hebrew theology into a subject from Greek mythology. Compare St. Matthew, X, 29: "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father." Or, as made familiar to our childhood by the popular hymn-wright,

A little sparrow cannot fall,
Unnoticed, Lord, by Thee.

Who know him not. Each diligently bends

895

Towards common thoughts and things for very fear;
Striving their ghastly malady to cheer,

By thinking it a thing of yes and no,

That housewives talk of. But the spirit-blow
Was struck, and all were dreamers.

At the last

900

Endymion said: "Are not our fates all cast?

Why stand we here? Adieu, ye tender pair!

Adieu!" Whereat those maidens, with wild stare,
Walk'd dizzily away. Pained and hot

His eyes went after them, until they got

905

Near to a cypress grove, whose deadly maw,

In one swift moment, would what then he saw

Engulph for ever. 'Stay!" he cried, “ah, stay!

Turn, damsels! hist! one word I have to say.

Sweet Indian, I would see thee once again.

910

It is a thing I dote on: so I'd fain,
Peona, ye should hand in hand repair
Into those holy groves, that silent are
Behind great Dian's temple. I'll be yon,
At vesper's earliest twinkle - they are gone
But once, once, once again

At this he press'd

915

(882) Woodhouse notes the variation void for place.
(888-9) The draft reads in for to and can for doth.
(892) In the draft, at strife in place of he'd pine.
(904) The draft reads patiently for dizzily.
(906) In the draft, shade for maw.

His hands against his face, and then did rest
His head upon a mossy hillock green,
And so remain'd as he a corpse had been
All the long day; save when he scantly lifted
His eyes abroad, to see how shadows shifted
With the slow move of time,
Until the poplar tops, in journey dreary,
Had reach'd the river's brim.

sluggish and weary

920

Then up he rose,

And slowly as that very river flows,

925

Walk'd towards the temple grove with this lament:

"Why such a golden eve? The breeze is sent
Careful and soft, that not a leaf may fall
Before the serene father of them all

Bows down his summer head below the west.
Now am I of breath, speech, and speed possest,
But at the setting I must bid adieu

To her for the last time. Night will strew
On the damp grass myriads of lingering leaves,
And with them shall I die; nor much it grieves
To die, when summer dies on the cold sward.
Why, I have been a butterfly, a lord

Of flowers, garlands, love-knots, silly posies,
Groves, meadows, melodies, and arbour roses;
My kingdom's at its death, and just it is
That I should die with it: so in all this

We miscall grief, bale, sorrow, heartbreak, woe,
What is there to plain of? By Titan's foe
I am but rightly serv'd." So saying, he
Tripp'd lightly on, in sort of deathful glee;
Laughing at the clear stream and setting sun,
As though they jests had been: nor had he done
His laugh at nature's holy countenance,

His hands upon a pillow of green moss
And so remained without impatient toss
All the day long-save when he scantly lifted
His eyes abroad, to see how shadows shifted,
And note the weary time.- Ah weary, weary,...

The word hands in line 918 was probably a mere slip.

(926-7) Woodhouse gives, presumably from the draft, the couplet, Walk'd towards the temple grove lamenting "O

"Why such a golden eve? The breezes blow...

930

935

940

945

(933) This line, though possibly corrupt, stands thus in the finished manuscript and in Keats's edition. Woodhouse does not bring the draft in evidence. (934) In the manuscript, lingʻring for lingering.