Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/418
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
402
OTHO THE GREAT.
Undazzled,—this is darkness,—when I closeThese lids, I see far fiercer brilliancies,—Skies full of splendid moons, and shooting stars,And spouting exhalations, diamond fires,And panting fountains quivering with deep glows.Yes—this is dark—is it not dark?
Sigifred.My Lord,Tis late; the lights of festival are everQuench'd in the morn.
Ludolph.'Tis not to-morrow then?
Sigifred. 'Tis early dawn.
Gersa.Indeed full time we slept;Say you so, Prince?
Ludolph.I say I quarrell'd with you,We did not tilt each other,—that's a blessing,—Good gods! no innocent blood upon my head!
Sigifred. Retire, Gersa!
Ludolph.There should be three more here:For two of them, they stay away perhaps,Being gloomy-minded, haters of fair revels,—They know their own thoughts best.As for the third,Deep blue eyes, semi-shaded in white lids,Finish'd with lashes fine for more soft shade,Completed by her twin-arch'd ebon-brows;White temples, of exactest elegance,Of even mould, felicitous and smooth;Cheeks fashion'd tenderly on either side,So perfect, so divine, that our poor eyesAre dazzled with the sweet proportioning,And wonder that 'tis so,—the magic chance!Her nostrils, small, fragrant, fairy-delicate;