LIII Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart? near: 'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither, No more let Life divide what Death can join together. LIV That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality. LV The breath whose might I have invoked in song Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. THE EVE OF ST. AGNES I ST. AGNES' EVE- Ah, bitter chill it was! And silent was the flock in woolly fold: Numb were the Beadsman's fingers while he told Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. II His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees: The sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze, Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat❜ries, To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. III Northward he turneth through a little door, And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor; But no already had his death bell rung: The joys of all his life were said and sung: His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve: Another way he went, and soon among Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve, And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve. IV That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft; Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. V At length burst in the argent revelry, The brain, new stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay Of old romance. These let us wish away, And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there, Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day, On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care, As she had heard old dames full many times declare. VI They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. VII Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. VIII She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes, Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short: The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs 'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, IX So, purposing each moment to retire, She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors, Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire For Madeline. Beside the portal doors, Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores All saints to give him sight of Madeline, But for one moment in the tedious hours, That he might gaze and worship all unseen; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss in sooth such things have been. X He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell: Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul. |