Imitation of Spenser

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Imitation of Spenser  (1814) 
by John Keats

IMITATION OF SPENSER

Lord Houghton states, on the authority of the notes of Charles Armitage Brown, given to him in Florence in 1832, that this was the earliest known composition of Keats, and that it was written during his residence in Edmonton at the end of his eighteenth year, which would make the date in the autumn of 1813. The poem was included in the 1817 volume, which bore on its title-page this motto:—

What more felicity can fall to creature
Than to enjoy delight with liberty?

 Fate of the Butterfly.Spenser.

· · · · · · · ·

 Now Morning from her orient chamber came,
 And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill;
 Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame,
 Silv'ring the untainted gushes of its rill;
 Which, pure from mossy beds, did down distil,
 And after parting beds of simple flowers,
 By many streams a little lake did fill,
 Which round its marge reflected woven bowers,
And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers.


 There the kingfisher saw his plumage bright,
 Vying with fish of brilliant dye below;
 Whose silken fins' and golden scales' light
 Cast upward, through the waves, a ruby glow:
 There saw the swan his neck of arched snow,
 And oar'd himself along with majesty;
 Sparkled his jetty eyes; his feet did show
 Beneath the waves like Afric's ebony,
And on his back a fay reclin'd voluptuously.


 Ah! could I tell the wonders of an isle
 That in that fairest lake had placed been,
 I could e'en Dido of her grief beguile;
 Or rob from aged Lear his bitter teen:
 For sure so fair a place was never seen,
 Of all that ever charm'd romantic eye:
 It seem'd an emerald in the silver sheen
 Of the bright waters; or as when on high,
Through clouds of fleecy white, laughs the cœrulean sky.


 And all around it dipp'd luxuriously
 Slopings of verdure through the glossy tide,
 Which, as it were in gentle amity,
 Rippled deighted up the flowery side;
 As if to glean the ruddy tears, it tried,
 Which fell profusely from the rose-tree stem!
 Haply it was the workings of its pride,
 In strife to throw upon the shore a gem
Outvying all the buds in Flora's diadem.

· · · · · · · ·