'The Eve Of St. Agnes' by John Keats
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St. Agnes' Eve---Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,
Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.
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 sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze,
Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails:
Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries,
He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails
To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails.
Northward he turneth through a little door,
And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue
Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor;
But no---already had his deathbell rung
The joys of all his life were said and sung:
His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve:
Another way he went, and soon among
Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve,
And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve.
That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft;
And so it chanc'd, for many a door was wide,
From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,
The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide:
The level chambers, ready with their pride,
Were glowing to receive a thousand guests:
The carved angels, ever eager-eyed,
Star'd, 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,
With plume, tiara, and all rich array,
Numerous as shadows haunting fairily
The brain, new-stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay
Of old romance. These let us wish away,
And turn, sole-thoughted, to one lady there,
Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,
On love, and wing'd St Agnes' saintly care,
As she had heard old dames full rnany times declare.
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.
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 retir'd; 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.
She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes,
Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short:
The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs
Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort
Of whisperers in anger, or in sport;
'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn,
Hoodwink'd with faery fancy; all amort,
Save to St Agnes and her lambs unshorn,
And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn.
So, purposing each moment to retire,
She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors,
Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire
For Madeline. Beside the portal doors,
Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores
All saints to give him sight of Madeline,
But for one moment in the tedious hours,
That he might gaze and worship all unseen;
Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss---in sooth such things have been.
He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell:
All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords
Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel:
For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes,
Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords,
Whose very dogs would execrations howl
Against his lineage: not one breast affords
Him any mercy, in that mansion foul,
Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.
Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came,
Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand,
To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame,
Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond
The sound of merriment and chorus bland.
He startled her; but soon she knew his face,
And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand,
Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro! hie thee from this place;
"They are all here to-night, the whole blood-thirsty race!
"Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand;
He had a fever late, and in the fit
He cursed thee and thine, both house and land:
Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit
More tame for his gray hairs---Alas me! flit!
Flit like a ghost away."---"Ah, gossip dear,
We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit,
And tell me how"---"Good saints! not here, not here;
Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier."
He follow'd through a lowly arched way,
Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume,
And as she mutter'd "Well-a---well-a-day!"
He found him in a little moonlight room,
Pale, lattic'd, chill, and silent as a tomb.
"Now tell me where is Madeline", said he,
"O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom
Which none but secret sisterhood may see,
"When they St Agnes' wool are weaving piously."
"St Agnes! Ah! it is St Agnes' Eve---
Yet men will murder upon holy days:
Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve,
And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays
To venture so: it fills me with amaze
To see thee, Porphyro!---St Agnes' Eve!
God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays
This very night: good angels her deceive!
But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve."
Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon,
While Porphyro upon her face doth look,
Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone
Who keepeth clos'd a wondrous riddle-book,
As spectacled she sits in chimney nook.
But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told
His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook
Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold
And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old.
Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart
Made purple riot: then doth he propose
A stratagem, that makes the beldame start:
"A cruel man and impious thou art:
Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream
Alone with her good angels, far apart
From wicked men like thee. Go, go!---I deem
Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem."
"I will not harm her, by all saints I swear,"
Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace
When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer,
If one of her soft ringlets I displace,
Or look with ruffian passion in her face:
Good Angela, believe me by these tears;
Or I will, even in a moment's space,
Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears,
And beard them, though they be more fang'd than wolves and bears."
"Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul?
A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing,
Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll;
Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening,
Were never miss'd." Thus plaining, doth she bring
A gentler speech from burning Porphyro;
So woeful, and of such deep sorrowing,
That Angela gives promise she will do
Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe.
Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy,
Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide
Him in a closet, of such privacy
That he might see her beauty unespied,
And win perhaps that night a peerless bride,
While legion'd fairies pac'd the coverlet,
And pale enchantment held her sleepy-eyed.
Never on such a night have lovers met,
Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt.
"It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame:
"All cates and dainties shall be stored there
Quickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame
Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare,
For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare
On such a catering trust my dizzy head.
Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer
The while: Ah! thou must needs the lady wed,
Or may I never leave my grave among the dead."
So saying, she hobbled off with busy fear.
The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd;
The Dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear
To follow her; with aged eyes aghast
From fright of dim espial. Safe at last
Through many a dusky gallery, they gain
The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd and chaste;
Where Porphyro took covert, pleas'd amain.
His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain.
Her falt'ring hand upon the balustrade,
Old Angela was feeling for the stair,
When Madeline, St Agnes' charmed maid,
Rose, like a mission'd spirit, unaware:
With silver taper's light, and pious care,
She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led
To a safe level matting.Now prepare,
Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed;
She comes, she comes again, like dove fray'd and fled.
Out went the taper as she hurried in;
Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
She closed the door, she panted, all akin
To spirits of the air, and visions wide:
No utter'd syllable, or, woe betide!
But to her heart, her heart was voluble,
Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
As though a tongueless nightingale should swell
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.
A casement high and triple-arch'd there was,
All garlanded with carven imag'ries
Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings;
And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,
A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.
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;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,
Save wings, for heaven:---Porphyro grew faint:
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees
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.
Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd 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;
Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain;
Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray;
Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced,
Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,
And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced
To wake into a slumbrous 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!
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 doth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:---
O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!
The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarinet,
Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:---
The hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.
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
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;
Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd
From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand
On golden dishes and in baskets bright
Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand
In the retired quiet of the night,
Filling the chilly room with perfume light.---
"And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!
Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite:
Open thine eyes, for meek St Agnes' sake,
Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."
Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm
Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream
By the dusk curtains:---'twas a midnight charm
Impossible to melt as iced stream:
The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
It seem'd he never, never could redeem
From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes;
So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies.
Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,---
Tumultuous,---and, in chords that tenderest be,
He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans mercy:"
Close to her ear touching the melody:---
Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan:
He ceased---she panted quick---and suddenly
Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.
Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,
Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd
The blisses of her dream so pure and deep,
At which fair Madeline began to weep,
And moan forth witless words with many a sigh;
While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly.
"Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now
Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;
And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
How chang'd thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!
Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!
Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,
For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."
Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far
At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose
Into her dream he melted, as the rose
Blendeth its odour with the violet,---
Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet
Against the window-panes; St Agnes' moon hath set.
Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:
"This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"
'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:
"No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!
Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.---
Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?
I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine
Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;---
A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."
"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!
Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?
Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil dyed?
Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest
After so many hours of toil and quest,
A famish'd pilgrim,---saved by miracle.
Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest
Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well
To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel.
"Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land,
Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
Arise---arise! the morning is at hand;---
The bloated wassailers will never heed:---
Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,---
Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:
Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,
For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."
She hurried at his words, beset with fears,
For there were sleeping dragons all around,
At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears---
Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found.---
In all the house was heard no human sound.
A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each door;
The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,
Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar;
And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.
They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall;
Like phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide;
Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,
With a huge empty flagon by his side:
The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,
But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:
By one, and one, the bolts fill easy slide:---
The chains lie silent on the footworn stones,---
The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.
And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
These lovers fled away into the storm.
That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,
Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old
Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform;
The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Exploring the Intricacies of John Keats' "The Eve of St. Agnes"
When it comes to romantic poetry, John Keats is one of the most celebrated poets of all time. His works are known for their captivating themes, vivid imagery, and emotional depth. One of his most iconic poems is "The Eve of St. Agnes," which tells the story of a young couple who meet on the eve of a holy day. This narrative poem is filled with symbolism, allegory, and allusions, making it a complex and intriguing work of literature. In this literary criticism and interpretation, we will delve into the intricacies of Keats' "The Eve of St. Agnes," exploring the themes, symbols, and literary devices that make this poem a masterpiece.
The Plot of "The Eve of St. Agnes"
Before we dive into the deeper meanings behind the poem, let us first understand the plot. The poem takes place on the eve of St. Agnes, which is a holy day in the Christian calendar. It is said that on this night, young virgins can see their future husbands in their dreams if they perform certain rituals.
The protagonist of the poem is Madeline, a young woman who is hoping to see her future husband in her dream on this night. She is staying with her family in a castle, where there is a dispute over who she will marry. Her father wants her to marry a wealthy suitor, while she is in love with Porphyro, a young man who is not of her social class.
Porphyro sneaks into the castle and finds Madeline's room, where he watches her sleeping. He then wakes her up and they confess their love for each other. They decide to run away together, but they are interrupted when Madeline's family finds them. In the end, they are able to escape, and the poem ends with their future together uncertain.
The Themes of "The Eve of St. Agnes"
One of the most prominent themes in "The Eve of St. Agnes" is the conflict between social class and love. Madeline's father wants her to marry a wealthy suitor, regardless of whether or not she loves him. Porphyro, on the other hand, is not of her social class, and their love is forbidden. This conflict is a representation of the societal constraints of Keats' time, where social class determined one's future and opportunities.
Another theme in the poem is the power of dreams and imagination. Madeline hopes to see her future husband in her dream, and Porphyro uses his imagination to create a romantic atmosphere in Madeline's chamber. Keats uses these themes to explore the human desire for love and escapism.
The Symbols in "The Eve of St. Agnes"
Keats uses a variety of symbols in "The Eve of St. Agnes" to add depth and meaning to the poem. One of the most prominent symbols is the moon, which is a symbol of both love and illusion. The moon is described as "a casement, high and triple-arch'd," which creates a mystical atmosphere.
Another important symbol in the poem is fire, which represents passion and desire. Porphyro uses fire to create a romantic atmosphere in Madeline's chamber, and their love is described as "a flame." This symbol is used to convey the intensity of their feelings for each other.
The stained glass window in Madeline's chamber is also a significant symbol in the poem. It is described as "a rich array / Of emblematical saints," which represents the religious and moral values of Madeline's family. However, when Porphyro enters her chamber, he breaks the window, which symbolizes the breaking of societal and moral constraints.
The Literary Devices Used in "The Eve of St. Agnes"
Keats employs several literary devices in "The Eve of St. Agnes" to create a vivid and engaging poem. One of the most prominent devices is imagery, which is used to create an ethereal atmosphere. Keats describes the chamber as "a dim-lit grove," which creates a sense of mystery and enchantment.
Another literary device used in the poem is allusion. Keats alludes to the story of St. Agnes, who was a Christian martyr. He uses this allusion to create a sense of religious significance and to add depth to the poem.
Keats also uses allegory in the poem, particularly in the description of Madeline's dream. Her dream is described as a journey through a mystical landscape, which represents her journey towards love and fulfillment.
The Significance of "The Eve of St. Agnes"
"The Eve of St. Agnes" is a poem that explores many of the themes and symbols that were important to the Romantic movement. It is a representation of the human desire for love and escapism, as well as a commentary on the societal and moral constraints of Keats' time.
The poem is significant for its use of vivid imagery, allegory, and allusion, which create a rich and engaging narrative. It is a masterpiece of romantic poetry, and its themes and symbols continue to resonate with readers today.
In conclusion, "The Eve of St. Agnes" is a complex and intriguing work of literature that explores the themes of love, social class, and imagination. Keats uses a variety of symbols and literary devices to create a vivid and engaging poem that continues to captivate readers today. Its significance in the canon of romantic poetry cannot be overstated, and it remains an important work of literature for its exploration of the human condition.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
The Eve of St. Agnes: A Masterpiece of Romantic Poetry
John Keats, one of the greatest poets of the Romantic era, wrote "The Eve of St. Agnes" in 1819. This poem is a masterpiece of Romantic poetry, which tells the story of a young woman named Madeline who seeks to see her lover, Porphyro, on the eve of St. Agnes. The poem is full of rich imagery, vivid descriptions, and a sense of mystery and magic that captures the essence of the Romantic era.
The poem is set in a medieval castle on the eve of St. Agnes, which is a Catholic holiday celebrated on January 20th. According to legend, St. Agnes was a virgin martyr who was killed for her faith in the 4th century. On the eve of her feast day, it was believed that young women could see their future husbands in their dreams if they followed certain rituals. Keats uses this legend as a backdrop for his poem, creating a sense of mystery and magic that permeates the entire work.
The poem begins with a description of the castle and the cold winter night. Keats uses vivid imagery to create a sense of the cold and darkness that surrounds the castle. He writes, "The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; / The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, / And silent was the flock in woolly fold." This description sets the tone for the rest of the poem, creating a sense of foreboding and mystery.
The focus then shifts to Madeline, who is described as a beautiful young woman who is preparing for the rituals of St. Agnes' Eve. Keats describes her as "fair" and "pure," emphasizing her innocence and beauty. He writes, "She was a maiden of unmeasured grace, / And the dove-pinioned hours / Winged their way / To make her happy in her Porphyro's embrace." This description sets up the central conflict of the poem, which is Madeline's desire to see her lover, Porphyro, on the eve of St. Agnes.
Porphyro is described as a handsome young man who is in love with Madeline. He is not supposed to be in the castle, but he sneaks in to see her. Keats describes him as "young, / And therefore doomed to die." This description creates a sense of tragedy and foreshadows the events that will unfold later in the poem.
The poem then shifts to a description of the rituals of St. Agnes' Eve. Madeline is supposed to go to bed without eating or drinking anything, and then she will see her future husband in her dreams. Keats describes the rituals in great detail, creating a sense of magic and mystery. He writes, "She shut the cold out and the storm, / And kneeled and prayed in silence for a space." This description creates a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, as Madeline prepares for the ritual.
Porphyro then appears in Madeline's room, disguised as a minstrel. He tells her that he loves her and wants to be with her. Madeline is hesitant at first, but she eventually gives in to her desire and agrees to run away with him. Keats describes their love scene in great detail, creating a sense of passion and intimacy. He writes, "And they are gone: ay, ages long ago / These lovers fled away into the storm." This description creates a sense of timelessness and eternal love, as the lovers escape into the night.
The poem ends with a description of the aftermath of the lovers' escape. Keats describes the castle as being in chaos, with the guests waking up to find Madeline and Porphyro gone. He writes, "And all around the chapel dim / Gloamed like a dusky wreath of smoke." This description creates a sense of confusion and disorientation, as the guests try to make sense of what has happened.
In conclusion, "The Eve of St. Agnes" is a masterpiece of Romantic poetry that captures the essence of the Romantic era. Keats uses vivid imagery, rich descriptions, and a sense of mystery and magic to tell the story of Madeline and Porphyro's forbidden love. The poem is a celebration of love, passion, and the power of the human spirit to overcome obstacles and find happiness. It is a timeless work of art that continues to inspire and captivate readers to this day.
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