The silver clouds, far-far away to leave Musing on Milton's fate-on Sydney's bierTill their stern forms before my mind arise: Perhaps on wing of Poesy upsoar, Full often dropping a delicious tear, When some melodious sorrow spells mine eyes. TO A YOUNG LADY WHO SENT ME A LAUREL CROWN. RESH morning gusts have blown away all fear From my glad bosom,-now from gloominess Than the proud laurel shall content my bier. In the Sun's eye, and 'gainst my temples press By thy white fingers and thy spirit clear. WRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR. W HAT though, for showing truth to flatter'd state, Kind Hunt was shut in prison, yet has he, In his immortal spirit, been as free As the sky-searching lark, and as elate. Minion of grandeur! think you he did wait? Think you he nought but prison-walls did see, Till, so unwilling, thou unturn'dst the key? Ah, no! far happier, nobler was his fate! In Spenser's halls he stray'd, and bowers fair, Culling enchanted flowers; and he flew With daring Milton through the fields of air: To regions of his own his genius true Took happy flights. Who shall his fame impair When thou art dead, and all thy wretched crew? Ꮆ TO KOSCIUSKO. OOD Kosciusko! thy great name alone Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling; It comes upon us like the glorious pealing Of the wide spheres-an everlasting tone. And now it tells me, that in worlds unknown, The names of heroes, burst from clouds con cealing, Are changed to harmonies, for ever stealing Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne, It tells me too, that on a happy day, When some good spirit walks upon the earth, Thy name with Alfred's, and the great of yore, Gently commingling, gives tremendous birth To a loud hymn, that sounds far, far away To where the great God lives for evermore. OW many bards gild the lapses of time! Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime. The voice of waters- the great bell that heaves Make pleasing music, and not wild uproar.' This sonnet was the means of introducing Keats to Mr. Leigh Hunt's society. Mr. Cowden Clarke had brought some of his young friend's verses and read them aloud. Mr. Horace Smith, who hap pened to be there, was struck with the last six lines, especially the penultimate, saying, "What a well condensed expression!" and Keats was shortly after introduced to the literary circle. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER. The fine folio edition of Chapman's translation of "Homer" had been lent to Mr. Clarke by Mr. Alsager, a friend of Mr. Leigh Hunt's, who at that time conducted the money-market department of the "Times." The friends sat up till daylight over their new acquisition; Keats shouting with delight as some passage of especial energy struck his imagination. At ten o'clock the next morning, Mr. Clarke found this sonnet on his breakfasttable. UCH have I travell'd in the realms of gold, seen; Round many western islands have I been Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: He stared at the Pacific-and all his men K EEN, fitful gusts are whispering here and there Among the bushes, half leafless and dry; The stars look very cold about the sky, And I have many miles on foot to fare; Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air, Or of those silver lamps that burn on high, Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair: For I am brimfull of the friendliness That in a little cottage I have found; ON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS AT AN EARLY HOUR.' IVE me a golden pen, and let me lean On heap'd-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when 'tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween : And let there glide by many a pearly car, Pink robes, and wavy hair, and diamond jar, And half-discover'd wings, and glances keen. The while let music wander round my ears, And as it reaches each delicious ending, Let me write down a line of glorious tone, And full of many wonders of the spheres: For what a height my spirit is contending! 'Tis not content so soon to be alone. This and the preceding introduction to the society were written soon after his of the Vale of Health. |