Part 26 (2/2)

Subli, my pilot, sits; In a cavern under is fetter'd the Thunder,-- It struggles and howls at fits

Over earth and ocean with gentleme, Lured by the love of the Genii that move In the depths of the purple sea; Over the rills and the crags and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream under mountain or stream The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue s in rains

III

The sanguine Sunrise, with hisplu rack, When the , Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one s

And, when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardor of rest and of love, And the crimson pall of eve s folded I rest ondove

IV

That orbed maiden, hite-fire laden, Who o'er ht breezes strewn; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The Stars peep behind her and peer

And I laugh to see theolden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,-- Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through h, Are each pav'd with the moon and these

V

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone, And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl; The volcanoes are dim, and the Stars reel and swim, When the Whirlwinds e-like shape, Over a torrent sea, Sunbea like a roof,-- The h which I march, With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the Powers of the air are chain'd to my chair, Is the million-color'd bow; The Sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, While the hter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die

For after the rain, ith never a stain The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbealeah at my own cenotaph,-- And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child frohost froain

XLII ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER

JOHN KEATS--1795-1821

Much have I travell'd in the realdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne: Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swile eyes He stared at the Pacific--and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien

XLIII ON THE GRassHOPPER AND THE CRICKET

KEATS