ON LEIGH HUNT'S POEM, "THE

STORY OF RIMINI.”

HO loves to peer up at the morning

sun;

With half-shut eyes and comfortable cheek,

Let him with this sweet tale full often seek For meadows where the little rivers run, Who loves to linger with that brightest one Of Heaven-Hesperus-let him lowly speak These numbers to the night, and starlight meek, Or noon, if that her hunting be begun. He who knows these delights, and too is prone To moralise upon a smile or tear, Will find at once a region of his own, A bower for his spirit, and will steer To alleys, where the fir-tree drops its cone, Where robins hop, and fallen leaves are sere.

JOHN KEATS.

4

THE STORY OF RIMINI.1

Time, the close of the 13th century. Scene, first at
Ravenna, afterwards at Rimini.

[Published separately, 1816. In an altered form in
"Works," 1832, 1844, 1857, and 1860. "Rimini and other
Poems," 1844. "Favourite Poems," 1877.
"Canterbury Poets," 1889.]

CANTO I.

Kent, 1889.

RAVENNA.

HE sun is up, and 'tis a morn of May

Round old Ravenna's

towers and bay,

clear-shewn

A morn, the loveliest which the year

has seen,

Last of the spring, yet fresh with all its green;
For a warm eve, and gentle rains at night,
Have left a sparkling welcome for the light,

1 Reprinted from the rare first edition.-ED.

And there's a crystal clearness all about;
The leaves are sharp, the distant hills look out;
A balmy briskness comes upon the breeze;
The smoke goes dancing from the cottage trees;
And when you listen you may hear a coil
Of bubbling springs about the grassy soil;
And all the scene in short-sky, and earth, and

sea

Breathes like a bright-eyed face, that laughs out openly.

'Tis nature, full of spirits, waked and springing :The birds to the delicious time are singing, Darting with freaks and snatches up and down, Where the light woods go seaward from the town; While happy faces, striking through the green Of leafy roads, at every turn are seen; And the far ships, lifting their sails of white Like joyful hands, come up with scattery light; Come gleaming up-true to the wished-for day, And chase the whistling brine, and swirl into the bay.

And well may all who can, come crowding there,

If peace returning, and processions rare,

And, to crown all, a marriage in May weather,
Have aught to bring enjoying hearts together;
For, on this sparkling day, Ravenna's pride,
The daughter of their prince, becomes a bride;
A bride to crown the comfort of the land;
And he, whose victories have obtained her hand,
Has taken with the dawn, so flies report,
His promised journey to the expecting court,

With hasting pomp, and squires of high degree, The bold Giovanni, Lord of Rimini.

Already in the streets the stir grows loud Of expectation and a bustling crowd.

With feet and voice the gathering hum contends,
The deep talk heaves, the ready laugh ascends;
Callings, and clapping doors, and curs unite,
And shouts from mere exuberance of delight,
And armed bands, making important way,
Gallant and grave, the lords of holiday,
And nodding neighbours, greeting as they run,
And pilgrims, chanting in the morning sun.
With heaved-out tapestry the windows glow,
By lovely faces brought, that come and go;
Till, the work smoothed, and all the street attired,
They take their seats, with upward gaze admired;
Some looking down, some forwards or aside,
As suits the conscious charm in which they pride;
Some turning a trim waist, or o'er the flow
Of crimson cloths hanging a hand of snow;
But all with smiles prepared and garlands green,
And all in fluttering talk, impatient for the scene.

And hark! the approaching trumpets, with a

start

On the smooth wind, come dancing to the heart. A moment's hush succeeds; and from the walls, Firm and at once, a silver answer calls.

Then heave the crowd; and all, who best can strive

In shuffling struggle, tow'rd the palace drive,
Where balconied and broad, of marble fair,
On pillars it o'erlooks the public square: