The Complete Works: Poetry, Plays, Letters and Extensive Biographies. John Keats
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such fine pictures, heavens! I cannot dare
To turn my admiration, though unpossess’d
They be of what is worthy, – though not drest
In lovely modesty, and virtues rare.
Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark;
These lures I straight forget, – e’en ere I dine,
Or thrice my palate moisten: but when I mark
Such charms with mild intelligences shine,
My ear is open like a greedy shark,
To catch the tunings of a voice divine.
Ah! who can e’er forget so fair a being?
Who can forget her half retiring sweets?
God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats
For man’s protection. Surely the All-seeing,
Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing,
Will never give him pinions, who intreats
Such innocence to ruin, – who vilely cheats
A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing
One’s thoughts from such a beauty; when I hear
A lay that once I saw her hand awake,
Her form seems floating palpable, and near;
Had I e’er seen her from an arbour take
A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,
And o’er my eyes the trembling moisture shake.
The Gadfly
From a Letter to Tom Keats
All gentle folks who owe a grudge
To any living thing
Open your ears and stay your trudge
Whilst I in dudgeon sing.
The Gadfly he hath stung me sore -
O may he ne’er sting you!
But we have many a horrid bore
He may sting black and blue.
Has any here an old grey Mare
With three legs all her store,
O put it to her Buttocks bare
And straight she’ll run on four.
Has any here a Lawyer suit
Of Seventeen-Forty-Three,
Take Lawyer’s nose and put it to’t
And you the end will see.
Is there a Man in Parliament
Dumbfounder’d in his speech,
O let his neighbour make a rent
And put one in his breech.
O Lowther how much better thou
Hadst figur’d t’other day
When to the folks thou mad’st a bow
And hadst no more to say
If lucky Gadfly had but ta’en
His seat….
And put thee to a little pain
To save thee from a worse.
Better than Southey it had been,
Better than Mr D – ,
Better than Wordsworth too, I ween,
Better than Mr V – ,
Forgive me pray good people all
For deviating so -
In spirit sure I had a call -
And now I on will go.
Has any here a daughter fair
Too fond of reading novels,
Too apt to fall in love with care
And charming Mister Lovels,
O O put a Gadfly to that thing
She keeps so white and pert -
I I mean the finger for the ring,
And it will breed a wort.
Has any here a pious spouse
Who seven times a day
Scolds as King David pray’d, to chouse
And have her holy way -
O O let a Gadfly’s little sting
Persuade her sacred tongue
That noises are a common thing.
But that her bell has rung.
And as this is the summum bo-
num of all conquering,
I I leave ‘withouten wordes mo’
The Gadfly’s little sting.
Ben Nevis – a Dialogue
[Persons: MRS CAMERON and BEN NEVIS]
MRS CAMERON
Upon my life Sir Nevis I am pique’d
That I have so far panted tugg’d and reek’d
To do an honour to your old bald pate
And now am sitting on you just to bate,
Without your paying me one compliment.
Alas ’tis so with all, when our intent
Is plain, and in the eye of all Mankind
We fair ones show a preference, too blind!
You gentle man immediately turn tail -
O let me then my hapless fate bewail!
Ungrateful baldpate, have I not disdain’d
The pleasant valleys – have I not, madbrain’d,
Deserted all my pickles and preserves,
My china closet too – with wretched nerves
To boot – say, wretched ingrate, have I not
Left my soft cushion chair and caudle pot?
’Tis true I had no corns – no! thank the fates,
My shoemaker was always Mr Bates.
And if not Mr Bates why I’m not old!
Still dumb, ungrateful Nevis – still so cold!
Here the Lady took some more whiskey and was putting even more to her lips when she dashed it to the ground for the mountain began to grumble – which continued for a few minutes before he thus began,
BEN NEVIS
What whining bit of tongue and mouth thus dares
Disturb my slumber of a thousand years?
Even so long my sleep has been secure -
And to be so awaked I’ll not endure.
Oh pain – for since the eagle’s earliest scream
I’ve had a damn’d confounded ugly dream,
A nightmare sure. What, Madam, was it you?
It