20 Poems of John Keats. 



many a true one. The following portion of an ode to Pan from this 

 poem is very graphic and classical: 



"O thou, whose mighty palace roof doth hang 

 From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth 

 Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death, 

 Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness ! 

 Who lovest to see the hamadryads drop 

 Their ruffled locks, where meeting hazels darken, 

 And through whole solemn hours dost sit and hearken 

 The dreary melody of bedded reeds, 

 In desolate places where dank moisture breeds 

 The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowths. 

 Bethink thee, how melancholy loth 

 Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx ; do thou now, 

 By thy love's milky brow, 

 By all the trembling mazes that she ran, 

 Hear us, great Pan!" 



What vivid description is there here! it would almost seem that we 

 heard the " dreary melody" so harmonizing to the thoughts ; so 

 indicative of solitude and melancholy. But we will quote further ; 

 the third stanza is perhaps even finer : 



" Oh, Hearkener to the loud clapping shears, 

 While ever and anon to his shorn peers 

 A ram goes bleating : winder of the horn, 

 When snouting wild-boars routing tender corn 

 : Anger our huntsmen : breather round our farms 

 To keep off mildews, and all weather harms 

 Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds 

 That come aswooning over hollow grounds^ 

 And wither drearily on barren moors; 

 Dread opener of the mysterious doors 

 Leading to universal knowledge : see, 

 Great son of Dryope, 



The many that are come to pay their vows 

 With leaves about their brows.'* 



This last line is happy and expressive. It will be found that Keats 

 possessed, in an eminent degree, the art of illustrating, by simple 

 words, the varied and gorgeous images of his fancy. This is true 

 poetry ; the more the expression or feeling is thrown into the small- 

 est compass, the stronger is the proof of genius. It is also to be 

 remarked, that Keats entered fully into the spirit of mythology. He 

 was deeply imbued with that classical and refined taste, which gave 

 a guardian genius to every sweet spot of the earth, and peopled the 

 woods, streams, and fountains, with ideal beings of grace and beauty. 

 In the above stanzas, we have all the mystery attached by the 

 ancients to their impersonation of Pan, expressed in a style purely 

 classic, and what can give a better notion of the festivities of that 

 roystering prince of good fellows, Bacchus, than the following? it is 

 a picture in itself: 



