Lamia | Page 3

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John Keats
LAMIA
Part 1
Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and

Satyr from the prosperous woods,
Before King Oberon's bright
diadem,
Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
Frighted away
the Dryads and the Fauns
From rushes green, and brakes, and
cowslip'd lawns,
The ever-smitten Hermes empty left
His golden
throne, bent warm on amorous theft:
From high Olympus had he
stolen light,
On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sight
Of his
great summoner, and made retreat
Into a forest on the shores of Crete.

For somewhere in that sacred island dwelt
A nymph, to whom all
hoofed Satyrs knelt;
At whose white feet the languid Tritons poured

Pearls, while on land they wither'd and adored.
Fast by the springs
where she to bathe was wont,
And in those meads where sometime
she might haunt,
Were strewn rich gifts, unknown to any Muse,

Though Fancy's casket were unlock'd to choose.
Ah, what a world of
love was at her feet!
So Hermes thought, and a celestial heat
Burnt
from his winged heels to either ear,
That from a whiteness, as the lily
clear,
Blush'd into roses 'mid his golden hair,
Fallen in jealous curls
about his shoulders bare.
From vale to vale, from wood to wood, he
flew,
Breathing upon the flowers his passion new,
And wound with
many a river to its head,
To find where this sweet nymph prepar'd her
secret bed:
In vain; the sweet nymph might nowhere be found,
And
so he rested, on the lonely ground,
Pensive, and full of painful
jealousies
Of the Wood-Gods, and even the very trees.
There as he
stood, he heard a mournful voice,
Such as once heard, in gentle heart,
destroys
All pain but pity: thus the lone voice spake:
"When from
this wreathed tomb shall I awake!
When move in a sweet body fit for
life,
And love, and pleasure, and the ruddy strife
Of hearts and lips!
Ah, miserable me!"
The God, dove-footed, glided silently
Round
bush and tree, soft-brushing, in his speed,
The taller grasses and
full-flowering weed,
Until he found a palpitating snake,
Bright, and
cirque-couchant in a dusky brake.
She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,
Vermilion-spotted, golden,
green, and blue;
Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard,
Eyed like

a peacock, and all crimson barr'd;
And full of silver moons, that, as
she breathed,
Dissolv'd, or brighter shone, or interwreathed
Their
lustres with the gloomier tapestries -
So rainbow-sided, touch'd with
miseries,
She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf,
Some
demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
Upon her crest she wore a
wannish fire
Sprinkled with stars, like Ariadne's tiar:
Her head was
serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!
She had a woman's mouth with all its
pearls complete:
And for her eyes: what could such eyes do there

But weep, and weep, that they were born so fair?
As Proserpine still
weeps for her Sicilian air.
Her throat was serpent, but the words she
spake
Came, as through bubbling honey, for Love's sake,
And thus;
while Hermes on his pinions lay,
Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes
his prey.
"Fair Hermes, crown'd with feathers, fluttering light,
I had a splendid
dream of thee last night:
I saw thee sitting, on a throne of gold,

Among the Gods, upon Olympus old,
The only sad one; for thou
didst not hear
The soft, lute-finger'd Muses chaunting clear,
Nor
even Apollo when he sang alone,
Deaf to his throbbing throat's long,
long melodious moan.
I dreamt I saw thee, robed in purple flakes,

Break amorous through the clouds, as morning breaks,
And, swiftly
as a bright Phoebean dart,
Strike for the Cretan isle; and here thou art!

Too gentle Hermes, hast thou found