25 Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules' on Madeline's fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;0 gift, blessing
220 Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory,0 like a saint: halo She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven:?Porphyro grew faint:
225 She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
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Anon his heart revives: her vespers done, Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;2 Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one; Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
230 Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees: Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
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235 Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd3 she lay, Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; Flown, like a thought, until the morrow- day;
240 Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray;4 Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
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Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, 245 Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,
9. I.e., among the genealogical emblems ('herald-color insert. ries') and other devices ('emblazonings'), a heral-3. In a confused state between waking and sleepdic shield signified by its colors that the family was ing. of royal blood. 4. Variously interpreted; perhaps: held tightly, 1. Red (heraldry). cherished (or else kept shut, fastened with a clasp), 2. The Pre-Raphaelite-inspired painter Daniel like a Christian prayer book ('missal') in a land Maclise represented this moment in Keats's where the religion is that of dark-skinned pagans romance in his painting of 1 868, Madeline after ('swart Paynims'). Prayer. For a reproduction of the painting, see the
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THE EVE OF ST. AGNES / 895
And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced
To wake into a slumberous tenderness;
Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,
And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept,
Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,
And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept,
And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!?how fast she slept.
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Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon
Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set
A table, and, half anguish'd, threw thereon
A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:?
O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!5
The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,6
The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet, Affray' his ears, though but in dying tone:? frightenThe hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.
3?
And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd,
While he from forth the closet brought a heap
Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;0 melon
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;
Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd
From Fez,7 and spiced dainties, every one,
From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
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