The blue sky here, and there, serenely peeping A meek and forlorn flower, with naught of pride, 170 175 180 Where had he been, from whose warm head out-flew That sweetest of all songs, that ever new, That aye refreshing, pure deliciousness, Coming ever to bless The wanderer by moonlight? to him bringing 185 Shapes from the invisible world, unearthly singing From out the middle air, from flowery nests, And from the pillowy silkiness that rests Full in the speculation of the stars. Ah! surely he had burst our mortal bars; 190 Into some wond'rous region he had gone, To search for thee, divine Endymion ! He was a Poet, sure a lover too, Who stood on Latmus' top, what time there blew 195 And brought in faintness solemn, sweet, and slow (174) We read fair for sad in the manuscript. But though her face was clear as infant's eyes, Queen of the wide air; thou most lovely queen Where distant ships do seem to show their keels, 200 205 210 215 220 Soon they awoke clear ey'd : nor burnt with thirsting, 225 Who feel their arms, and breasts, and kiss and stare, 230 Young men, and maidens at each other gaz'd But the soft numbers, in that moment spoken, That follow'd thine, and thy dear shepherd's kisses: My wand'ring spirit must no farther soar. (233) In the original edition, others. 235 (242) The publication of Endymion in the following year gives an additional interest to this concluding passage, beginning at line 181. That the subject was already, as early as the summer of 1816, commending itself to Keats as one worth his ambition appears from this, for the book was out so early in 1817 that the sale was said to have "dropped" by the 29th of April (see the publishers' letter of that date in the Appendix). Thus, the delightful summer's day mentioned by Hunt (see page 7) cannot have been in 1817; but there is an extant letter to Charles Cowden Clarke, which will be found among the letters in this edition, and which mentions, under date 17 December 1816, a work entitled Endymion, as to be finished in " one more attack." Perhaps this points to a rejected draft on a small scale, to which the foregoing poem was the introduction. SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO A POEM. Lo! I must tell a tale of chivalry; For large white plumes are dancing in mine eye. Lo! I must tell a tale of chivalry; For while I muse, the lance points slantingly 5 1Ο Hunt speaks confidently of this and the next composition as connected-"The Specimen of an Induction to a Poem, and the fragment of the Poem itself entitled Calidore" (see Appendix); and this view is borne out, not only by internal evidence, but by the fact that in a volume of transcripts made in a copy-book of Tom Keats's these two compositions are written continuously, the first headed simply Induction, and the second Calidore. Several passages are marked in the margin; and at the end of Calidore is written, "Marked by Leigh Hunt-1816." Hunt's marking resulted in the disappearance of one bad rhyme, for in the transcript line 17 stands thus : And now no more her anxious grief remembring and the last word in line 18 is underlined by Hunt. Some minor VOL. I. C 339 Athwart the morning air: some lady sweet, With the young ashen boughs, 'gainst which it rests, When the fire flashes from a warrior's eye, 15 20 25 30 35 Is slung with shining cuirass, sword, and shield? Where ye may see a spur in bloody field. 40 Round the wide hall, and show their happy faces; variations are say for think in line 8, his for its in lines 9 and 10, grandeur for splendour in line 35, this bright spear for that bright lance in line 37, and you for ye in line 40. |