The tyrant of the Chersonese Was freedom's best and bravest friend; That tyrant was Miltiades! Oh! that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind! Such chains as his were sure to bind. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! Such as the Doric mothers bore; Trust not for freedom to the Franks Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! I see their glorious black eyes shine; Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, There, swan-like, let me sing and die: SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. SHE walks in beauty, like the night One shade the more, one ray the less, Or softly lightens o'er her face; How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent! 5 ΙΟ 15 SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE. WARRIORS and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord, Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path: Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, 5 Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Farewell to others, but never we part, Heir to my royalty, son of my heart! IO Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway, Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day! KEATS. THE EVE OF ST. AGNES. I. ST. AGNES' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was! Numb were the Beadsman's fingers while he told 5 Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. II. His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; IO Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees: The sculptured dead on each side seemed to freeze, To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. III. Northward he turneth through a little door, And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue 15 20 The joys of all his life were said and sung; And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve. IV. 25 That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft; 30 The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide: The level chambers, ready with their pride, Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: The carvéd angels, ever eager-eyed, Stared, where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. V. At length burst in the argent revelry, With plume, tiara, and all rich array, Numerous as shadows haunting fairily The brain, new-stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay 35 40 And turn, soul-thoughted, to one Lady there, On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care, As she had heard old dames full many times declare. 45 VI. They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, And couch supine their beauties, lily white, Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 50 VII. Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, And back retired; not cool'd by high disdain, But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere; She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. VIII. She danced along with vague regardless eyes, 65 'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, IX. So, purposing each moment to retire, 70 She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors, 75 For Madeline. Beside the portal doors, Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores All saints to give him sight of Madeline, But for one moment in the tedious hours, That he might gaze and worship all unseen; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss-in sooth such things have been. X. He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell : |