The Complete Works of John Keats: Poems, Plays & Personal Letters. John Keats. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Keats
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
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isbn: 9788027230198
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Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles,

       By bards who died content on pleasant sward,

       Leaving great verse unto a little clan?

       O, give me their old vigour, and unheard

       Save of the quiet primrose, and the span

       Of heaven and few ears,

       Rounded by thee, my song should die away

       Content as theirs,

       Rich in the simple worship of a day.

      Women, Wine, and Snuff

       Table of Contents

      Give me women, wine and snuff

       Until I cry out ‘hold, enough!’

       You may do so sans objection

       Till the day of resurrection;

       For bless my beard they aye shall be

       My beloved Trinity.

      On Oxford A Parody

       Table of Contents

      I

      The Gothic looks solemn,

       The plain Doric column

       Supports an old Bishop and Crosier;

       The mouldering arch,

       Shaded o’er by a larch

       Stands next door to Wilson the Hosier.

      II

      Vicè - that is, by turns, -

       O’er pale faces mourns

       The black tassell’d trencher and common hat

       The Chantry boy sings,

       The Steeple-bell rings,

       And as for the Chancellor - dominat.

      III

      There are plenty of trees,

       And plenty of ease,

       And plenty of fat deer for parsons:

       And when it is venison,

       Short is the benison, -

       Then each on a leg or thigh fastens.

      How fever’d is the man, who cannot look

       Table of Contents

      You cannot eat your cake and have it too. - Proverb

      How fever’d is the man, who cannot look

       Upon his mortal days with temperate blood,

       Who vexes all the leaves of his life’s book,

       And robs his fair name of its maidenhood;

       It is as if the rose should pluck herself,

       Or the ripe plum finger its misty bloom,

       As if a Naiad, like a meddling elf,

       Should darken her pure grot with muddy gloom,

       But the rose leaves herself upon the briar,

       For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed, And the ripe plum still wears its dim attire

       The undisturbed lake has crystal space,

       Why then should man, teasing the world for grace,

       Spoil his salvation for a fierce miscreed?

      The Cap and Bells

      Or The Jealousies. A Faery Tale – Unfinished

       Table of Contents

      I.

      In midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,

       There stood, or hover’d, tremulous in the air,

       A faery city ‘neath the potent rule

       Of Emperor Elfinan; fam’d ev’rywhere

       For love of mortal women, maidens fair,

       Whose lips were solid, whose soft hands were made

       Of a fit mould and beauty, ripe and rare,

       To tamper his slight wooing, warm yet staid:

       He lov’d girls smooth as shades, but hated a mere shade.

      II.

      This was a crime forbidden by the law;

       And all the priesthood of his city wept,

       For ruin and dismay they well foresaw,

       If impious prince no bound or limit kept,

       And faery Zendervester overstept;

       They wept, he sin’d, and still he would sin on,

       They dreamt of sin, and he sin’d while they slept;

       In vain the pulpit thunder’d at the throne,

       Caricature was vain, and vain the tart lampoon.

      III.

      Which seeing, his high court of parliament

       Laid a remonstrance at his Highness’ feet,

       Praying his royal senses to content

       Themselves with what in faery land was sweet,

       Befitting best that shade with shade should meet:

       Whereat, to calm their fears, he promis’d soon

       From mortal tempters all to make retreat,

       Aye, even on the first of the new moon,

       An immaterial wife to espouse as heaven’s boon.

      IV.

      Meantime he sent a fluttering embassy

       To Pigmio, of Imaus sovereign,

       To half beg, and half demand, respectfully,

       The hand of his fair daughter Bellanaine;

       An audience had, and speeching done, they gain

       Their point, and bring the weeping bride away;

       Whom, with but one attendant, safely lain

       Upon their wings, they bore in bright array,

       While little harps were touch’d by many a lyric fay.

      V.

      As in old pictures tender cherubim

       A child’s soul thro’ the sapphir’d canvas bear,

       So, thro’ a real heaven, on they swim

       With the sweet princess on her plumag’d lair,

       Speed giving to the winds her lustrous hair;

       And so she journey’d, sleeping or awake,

       Save when, for healthful exercise and air,

       She chose to “promener à l’aile,” or take

       A pigeon’s somerset, for sport or change’s sake.

      VI.

      “Dear Princess, do not whisper me so loud,”

       Quoth Corallina, nurse and confidant,

       “Do not you see there, lurking in a cloud,

       Close at your back, that sly old Crafticant?