With the young ashen boughs, 'gainst which it rests, And th' half-seen mossiness of linnets' nests. Ah! shall I ever tell its cruelty, When the fire flashes from a warrior's eye, 30 Stare at the grandeur of the balancing? And that bright lance, against the fretted wall, Beneath the shade of stately banneral, Is slung with shining cuirass, sword, and shield? Where ye may see a spur in bloody field. 40 Light-footed damsels move with gentle Than the pure freshness of thy laurels Dip so refreshingly its wings, and breast YOUNG Calidore is paddling o'er the lake; 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. ΙΟ Scarce can his clear and nimble eyesight Upholding wreaths of ivy; the white dove, A little brook. The youth had long been viewing These pleasant things, and heaven was bedewing The mountain flowers, when his glad senses caught A trumpet's silver voice. Ah! it was fraught With many joys for him : the warder's ken Had found white coursers prancing in the glen: Friends very dear to him he soon will see; His spirit flies before him so completely. And now he turns a jutting point of land, Whence may be seen the castle gloomy, and grand: Nor will a bee buzz round two swelling Of whitest Cassia, fresh from summer Sir Gondibert has doff'd his shining steel, arm There stood a knight, patting the flowing Of all unworthiness; and how the strong of It hard, and heavy steel: but that indeed It was some glorious form, some splendid weed, In which a spirit new come from the skies 120 Might live, and show itself to human eyes. 'Tis the far-fam'd, the brave Sir Gondibert, Said the good man to Calidore alert; Kept off dismay, and terror, and alarm 150 Sweet as blue heavens o'er enchanted isles. Softly the breezes from the forest came, Grateful the incense from the lime-tree Mysterious, wild, the far heard trumpet's tone; While the young warrior with a step of Lovely the moon in ether, all alone: grace Those smiling ladies, often turned his head were pendent, And gave the steel a shining quite tran scendent. Soon in a pleasant chamber they are seated; The sweet-lipp'd ladies have already greeted All the green leaves that round the window clamber, To show their purple stars, and bells of amber. Sweet too the converse of these happy mor- As that of busy spirits when the portals ming 160 We hear around when Hesperus is coming. EPISTLE TO CHARLES This epistle printed in the 1817 volume is there dated September, 1816, when Clarke was in his twenty-ninth year. He was by eight years Keats's senior, and he lived till his ninetieth year. OFT have you seen a swan superbly frowning, And with proud breast his own white shadow crowning; |