Say they are gone,—with the new dawning light
Steps forth my lady bright!

O, let me once more rest

My soul upon that dazzling breast!

Let once again these aching arms be plac'd,

50

The tender gaolers of thy waist!

And let me feel that warm breath here and there

To spread a rapture in my very hair,—

O, the sweetness of the pain!
Give me those lips again!

Enough! Enough! it is enough for me
To dream of thee!

55

SONNET.

TO FANNY.

I

CRY your mercy-pity-love!—aye, love!
Merciful love that tantalizes not,

One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
Unmask'd, and being seen-without a blot!
O! let me have thee whole,-all-all—be mine!
That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,
That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,—
Yourself your soul-in pity give me all,

Withhold no atom's atom or I die,

Or living on perhaps, your wretched thrall,
Forget, in the mist of idle misery,
Life's purposes,-the palate of my mind.
Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!

First given among the Literary Remains in 1848, dated 1819. I have no data upon which to suggest the period more exactly; but the desperation of tone may perhaps indicate that the sonnet was composed late in the year.

SONNET.

TO GEORGE KEATS:

WRITTEN IN SICKNESS.

BROTHER belov'd if health shall smile again,
Upon this wasted form and fever'd cheek:
If e'er returning vigour bid these weak
And languid limbs their gladsome strength regain,
Well may thy brow the placid glow retain

Of sweet content and thy pleas'd eye may speak
The conscious self applause, but should I seek
To utter what this heart can feel, Ah! vain
Were the attempt! Yet kindest friends while o'er

My couch ye bend, and watch with tenderness
The being whom your cares could e'en restore,

From the cold grasp of Death, say can you guess The feelings which these lips can ne'er express; Feelings, deep fix'd in grateful memory's store.

This sonnet is from a transcript in the handwriting of George Keats, which bears the date 1819; but I am disposed to think this date must have been wrongly affixed from memory. The entire absence of high poetic feeling indicates a time of utter physical prostration; and I should imagine that the sonnet might possibly have been written in February 1820, when Keats was still so ill as to be forbidden to write, and that it might have been sent to George with the announcement of the illness; but it seems likelier that it was composed later on in the year, in reply to some letter written by George on receiving that news-a letter in which the younger brother might have reproached himself for leaving the elder, low in health and funds, and for rushing back to America to mend his own fortunes.

La Belle Dame sans Merci.

I.

AH, what can ail thee, wretched wight,

Alone and palely loitering;

The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.

2.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel's granary is full,

And the harvest's done.

This poem was first published by Leigh Hunt in The Indicator for the 10th of May 1820 (No. XXXI), with some introductory remarks which will be found in the Appendix. The signature used by Keats on this occasion, as on that of issuing the Sonnet on a Dream (page 334) was "Caviare". In 1848 Lord Houghton gave the poem among the Literary Remains, apparently from a manuscript source, for the variations are very considerable. I think there can be no doubt that the Indicator version is a revision of the other, and I have therefore adopted it in the text, noting the variations as of the highest interest. In one of the late Gabriel Rossetti's letters he characterizes this poem as "the wondrous Belle Dame sans Merci." I have no positive information as to the date at whichit was composed; but I am fain to regard it as a crowning essay in perfect imaginative utterance, written between the poet's partial recovery and his departure to seek health and find a grave in Italy. (1-2) The first line in each of these stanzas is, in Lord Houghton's version,

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

and in line 3 of stanza 1 has stands for is.

I

3.

I see a lilly on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose

Fast withereth too.

4.

I met a lady in the meads

Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

5.

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.

6.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She look'd at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

7.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.

(3) Lord Houghton reads cheeks in line 3 of stanza 3.

(5) This and the next stanza are transposed in the other version ;