A sudden brightness in his look appear'd, A sudden vigour in his voice was heard; But she has treasured, and she loves them all; He named his friend, but then his hand she press'd, THE EVE OF ST. AGNES. BY JOHN KEATS.--1796-1820. [JOHN KEATS was born in London, October 29, 1796, at the house of his grandfather, who kept a livery stable, in Moorfields. He was educated at Enfield, and at the age of fifteen was apprenticed to a surgeon. In 1818, he published his Endymion," a poem evincing rich imaginative powers. It was criticised so severely by the " Quarterly Review," that it is said the critique embittered his existence, and brought on a fatal disease. In 1820, Keats published a second volume, entitled 'Lamia, Isabella, and other Poems," which was favourably received by the readers of poetry. He was now attacked with consumption, and to avert its fatal effects he resolved to try the milder climate of Italy; but no benefit resulted from the change, and on the 27th of December, 1820 he breathed his last in the city of Rome, in the arms of his faithful friend, Mr. Severn. ] ST I. T. AGNES' EVE-Ah, bitter chill it was! Numb were the Beadsman's fingers while he told Seem'd taking flight for heaven without a death, II. His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees : The sculptured dead on each side seem to freeze, Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries, To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. Northward he turneth through a little door, IV. That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft; From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft, The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide : Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: Stared, where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. At length burst in the argent revelry, The brain, new stuff'd in youth, with triumphs gay As she had heard old dames full many times declare. VI. They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, Young virgins might have visions of delight, And soft adorings from their loves receive Upon the honey'd middle of the night, If ceremonies due they did aright; As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. VII. Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline : The music, yearning like a god in pain, She scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine, Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train Pass by--she heeded not at all: in vain Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, And back retired; not cool'd by high disdain, But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere ; She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. VIII. She danced along with vague, regardless eyes, IX. So, purposing each moment to retire, She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors, |