Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/333

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THE CAP AND BELLS.
317

And wept upon its purple palatine,
While Hum continued, shamming half a sob,
"In Canterbury doth your lady shine?
But let me cool your brandy with a little wine."

XLVII.

Whereat a narrow Flemish glass he took,
That since belong'd to Admiral De Witt,
Admired it with a connoisseuring look,
And with the ripest claret crowned it,
And, ere the lively bead could burst and flit,
He turned it quickly, nimbly upside down,
His mouth being held conveniently fit
To catch the treasure: "Best in all the town!"
He said, smack'd his moist lips, and gave a pleasant frown.

XLVIII.

"Ah! good my Prince, weep not!" And then again
He fill'd a bumper. "Great sire, do not weep!
Your pulse is shocking, but I'll ease your pain."
Fetch me that Ottoman, and prithee keep
Your voice low," said the Emperor, "and steep
Some lady's fingers nice in Candy wine;
And prithee, Hum, behind the screen do peep
For the rose water vase, magician mine!
And sponge my forehead,—so my love doth make me pine."

XLIX.

"Ah, cursed Bellanaine!" "Don't think of her,"
Rejoin'd the Mago, "but on Bertha muse;