SPECIMEN

OF AN

INDUCTION TO A POEM.

Lo! I must tell a tale of chivalry;

For large white plumes are dancing in mine eye.
Not like the formal crest of latter days:
But bending in a thousand graceful ways;
So graceful, that it seems no mortal hand,
Or e'en the touch of Archimago's wand,
Could charm them into such an attitude.
We must think rather, that in playful mood,
Some mountain breeze had turn'd its chief delight,
To show this wonder of its gentle might.

Lo! I must tell a tale of chivalry;

For while I muse, the lance points slantingly

5

IO

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

Athwart the morning air: some lady sweet,
Who cannot feel for cold her tender feet,
From the worn top of some old battlement
Hails it with tears, her stout defender sent:

And from her own pure self no joy dissembling,
Wraps round her ample robe with happy trembling.
Sometimes, when the good Knight his rest would take,
It is reflected, clearly, in a lake,

With the young ashen boughs, 'gainst which it rests,
And th' half seen mossiness of linnets' nests.

Ah! shall I ever tell its cruelty,

15

20

When the fire flashes from a warrior's eye,
And his tremendous hand is grasping it,
And his dark brow for very wrath is knit?
Or when his spirit, with more calm intent,
Leaps to the honors of a tournament,
And makes the gazers round about the ring
Stare at the grandeur of the ballancing?
No, no! this is far off:-then how shall I
Revive the dying tones of minstrelsy,
Which linger yet about lone gothic arches,
In dark green ivy, and among wild larches ?
How sing the splendour of the revelries,
When buts of wine are drunk off to the lees?
And that bright lance, against the fretted wall,
Beneath the shade of stately banneral,

25

30

35

Is slung with shining cuirass, sword, and shield?

Where ye may see a spur in bloody field.
Light-footed damsels move with gentle paces
Round the wide hall, and show their happy faces;

40

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.

Or stand in courtly talk by fives and sevens:
Like those fair stars that twinkle in the heavens.
Yet must I tell a tale of chivalry:

Or wherefore comes that steed so proudly by?
Wherefore more proudly does the gentle knight,
Rein in the swelling of his ample might?

Spenser! thy brows are arched, open, kind,
And come like a clear sun-rise to my mind;
And always does my heart with pleasure dance,
When I think on thy noble countenance :
Where never yet was ought more earthly seen
Than the pure freshness of thy laurels green.
Therefore, great bard, I not so fearfully
Call on thy gentle spirit to hover nigh
My daring steps: or if thy tender care,
Thus startled unaware,

45

50

55

Be jealous that the foot of other wight

Should madly follow that bright path of light

60

Trac'd by thy lov'd Libertas; he will speak,

And tell thee that my prayer is very meek;

That I will follow with due reverence,

And start with awe at mine own strange pretence.
Him thou wilt hear; so I will rest in hope

65

To see wide plains, fair trees and lawny slope :
The morn, the eve, the light, the shade, the flowers;
Clear streams, smooth lakes, and overlooking towers.

(44) The transcript reads which for that.

(46) In previous editions, knight; but in a copy of the 1817 volume bearing on the title-page an inscription in Keats's writing, the word steed is substituted in manuscript for knight. The transcript also reads steed.

(57) The transcript reads gentle for tender.

(59) The transcript has living in place of other.

(61) Libertas means Leigh Hunt. See page 54.

CALIDORE.

A Fragment.

YOUNG Calidore is paddling o'er the lake;

His healthful spirit eager and awake
To feel the beauty of a silent eve,

Which seem'd full loath this happy world to leave;
The light dwelt o'er the scene so lingeringly.
He bares his forehead to the cool blue sky,
And smiles at the far clearness all around,
Until his heart is well nigh over wound,
And turns for calmness to the pleasant green
Of easy slopes, and shadowy trees that lean
So elegantly o'er the waters' brim

And show their blossoms trim.

Scarce can his clear and nimble eye-sight follow

The freaks, and dartings of the black-wing'd swallow, Delighting much, to see it half at rest,

Dip so refreshingly its wings, and breast

'Gainst the smooth surface, and to mark anon,

The widening circles into nothing gone.

And now the sharp keel of his little boat

Comes up with ripple, and with easy float,

20

In the transcript in Tom Keats's copy-book we read clear for cool in line 6, was for is in line 8, which for that in line 10, his for its in line 16.

And glides into a bed of water lillies:

Broad leav'd are they and their white canopies
Are upward turn'd to catch the heavens' dew.
Near to a little island's point they grew;
Whence Calidore might have the goodliest view
Of this sweet spot of earth. The bowery shore
Went off in gentle windings to the hoar
And light blue mountains: but no breathing man
With a warm heart, and eye prepar'd to scan
Nature's clear beauty, could pass lightly by
Objects that look'd out so invitingly
On either side. These, gentle Calidore
Greeted, as he had known them long before.

The sidelong view of swelling leafiness,
Which the glad setting sun, in gold doth dress;
Whence ever, and anon the jay outsprings,
And scales upon the beauty of its wings.

The lonely turret, shatter'd, and outworn,
Stands venerably proud; too proud to mourn
Its long lost grandeur: fir trees grow around,
Aye dropping their hard fruit upon the ground.

The little chapel with the cross above
Upholding wreaths of ivy; the white dove,
That on the window spreads his feathers light,

(28) In the transcript, line 28 reads

And light blue Mountains. But sure no breathing man

and in line 29 an stands in place of and.

(40) In the transcript this and the next line stand thus:— Its long lost grandeur. Laburnums grow around And bow their golden honors to the ground.

(42) In the transcript, its cross.

(44) The transcript reads window; the first edition, windows.

25

30

35

40