XX.

"It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame:
"All cates and dainties shall be stored there

Quickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame
Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare,

175

For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare

On such a catering trust my dizzy head.

Wait here, my child, with patience kneel in prayer

180

The while Ah! thou must needs the lady wed, Or may I never leave my grave among the dead."

XXI.

So saying she hobbled off with busy fear.
The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd;

The dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear
To follow her, with aged eyes aghast

185

From fright of dim espial. Safe at last,
Through many a dusky gallery, they gain

The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd and chaste;
Where Porphyro took covert, pleas'd amain.

His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain.

With silver taper's light, and pious care,
She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led
To a safe level matting. Now prepare,
Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed;

She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd and fled.

XXIII.

Out went the taper as she hurried in;

Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
She closed the door, she panted, all akin
To spirits of the air, and visions wide:
No utter'd syllable, or woe betide!
But to her heart her heart was voluble,
Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
As though a tongueless nightingale should swell
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.

195

200

205

XXIV.

A casement high and triple-arch'd there was,

All garlanded with carven imag'ries

Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,

As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings;
And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,

A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.

XXV.

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,

Save wings, for heaven :-Porphyro grew faint:
She knelt so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.

XXVI.

Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,

210

215

220

225

Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees,
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one,
Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,

230

But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.

XXVII.

Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay,
Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd
Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day,
Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain,
Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray,
Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.

235

240

XXVIII.

Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced,
Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,

245

And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced

To wake into a slumberous tenderness;

Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,

And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept,
Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness

250

And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept,

And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo !--how fast she slept.

XXIX.

:-

Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon
Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set
A table, and, half anguish'd, threw thereon
A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:-
O for some drowsy Morphean amulet !
The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,
Affray his ears, though but in dying tone :-

The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.

XXX.

And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,

255

260

In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd,
While he from forth the closet brought a heap

Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd.
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon,
Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd
From Fez, and spiced dainties, every one,
From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.

265

270

XXXI.

These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand
On golden dishes and in baskets bright
Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand
In the retired quiet of the night,

Filling the chilly room with perfume light.—

275

"And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!
Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite :
Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake,

Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."

XXXII.

Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm

280

Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream

By the dusk curtains :-'twas a midnight charm
Impossible to melt as iced stream:

The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;

285

Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
'It seem'd he never, never could redeem
From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes;
So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies.

XXXIII.

Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,-
Tumultuous, and, in chords that tenderest be,
He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,
In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy:"
Close to her ear touching the melody;-

290

;

Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan:

He ceased-she panted quick-and suddenly
Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:

Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.

XXXIV.

295

And moan forth witless words with many a sigh;

While still her. gaze on Porphyro would keep;

305

Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly.

XXXV.

“Ah, Porphyro!" she said, "but even now
Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,

Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;

And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:

310

How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!

Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,

Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!
Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,

For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."

315

XXXVI.

Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far
At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;
Into her dream he melted, as the rose
Blendeth its odour with the violet,--

Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet
Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.

XXXVII.

'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet: "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline !" 'Tis dark the iced gusts still rave and beat: "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine! Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, Though thou forsakest a deceived thing— A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."

320

325

330

XXXVIII.

"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!

Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?

335

Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed?

For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."