The Golden Treasury of the best songs and lyrical poems in the English Language |
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LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
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 | The Golden Treasury |  |
224
CCXXXVII
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
‘O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
‘O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms!
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
‘I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.’
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.’
‘I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
Full beautiful—a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
‘I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
‘I set her on my pacing steed
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.
‘She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said
“I love thee true.”
And honey wild and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said
“I love thee true.”
‘She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sigh'd full sore;
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she wept and sigh'd full sore;
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
225
‘And there she lulléd me asleep,
And there I dream'd—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill's side.
And there I dream'd—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill's side.
‘I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:
They cried—“La belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:
They cried—“La belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
‘I saw their starved lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gapéd wide,
And I awoke and found me here
On the cold hill's side.
With horrid warning gapéd wide,
And I awoke and found me here
On the cold hill's side.
‘And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.’
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.’
J. Keats
| The Golden Treasury | |