192 Poems of John Keats. 



balustrades, she met St. Agnes' charmed maid, rising on her aged 

 view 



" Like a mission'd spirit, unaware :" 



holding in one hand a silver taper to guide her to her couch, yet even 

 on this solemn occasion not forgetting the kind sympathy of her sex, 

 for she turned back to lead the tottering beldame safely down the 

 stair. In the mean time Porphyro has concealed himself in a closet, 

 first (mark, gentle reader) having prayed to heaven for perfect purity 

 of thought and feeling in the forthcoming scene. And now, the old 

 woman being left in security, Madeline gains her chamber. The 

 stanza that follows cannot be surpassed, and has, we think, been rarely 

 equalled in the whole range of poetry : 



" Out went the taper as she glided in ; 

 Its little smoke in pallid moonshine died; 

 She closed the door, she panted, all akin 

 To spirits of the air, and visions wide ; 

 No utter'd syllable or woe betide ! 

 But, to her heart, her heart was voluble, 

 Paining with eloquence her snow-white side, 

 As though a tongueless nightingale should swell [DELL!" 



HER THROAT IN VAIN, AND DIE, HEART-STIFLED, IN HER 



Is not this beautiful? Deeply impressed with the awe of this eve, 

 one thought uppermost in her heart, conscious that she loved, but 

 doubtful whether her love was returned, Madeline sought her couch. 

 Here we have poetry and nature combined ; the pallid moonshine in 

 which the little taper died is highly poetical, and in keeping with 

 the imagery which preceded and will follow ; the warm breathing 

 of her heart, brimful of emotions too deep for utterance, is nature all 

 over, the nature of perfect innocence and maidenhood, on which 

 not a stain or a tear has ever fallen. Turn we again to the scene. 

 It is now fast approaching the midnight hour ; Madeline's chamber 

 is a lofty gothic apartment, with one "triple-arched casement," sur- 

 rounded with carved devices of fruits and flowers, and filled with 

 diamonded panes of many-coloured glass, through which the moon- 

 light is now streaming. The presence of Porphyro in the recess of 

 the vaulted closet where he has placed himself is forgotten for the 

 moment in the deeper interest of the chamber's fairer occupant. 

 Madeline kneels, and as she put up her silent prayers to heaven, a 

 word spoken, or a look elsewhere than heaven-ward, would have 

 destroyed the spell ; from the stained glass of the vaulted casement 



" Rose bloom fell on her hands, together prest, 

 And on her silver cross soft amethyst, 

 And on her hair a glory like a saint !" 



Beautiful again! let the admirers of Titian, or Caracci, or Domeni- 

 chino, look upon this, and tell us if poetry may not, by its ideal deli- 

 neations, rob even canvass of expression. Is there no picture in this? 

 can no one actually see that young and innocent being at her vespers 



