To George Felton Mathew
Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song;Nor can remembrance, Mathew! bring to viewA fate more pleasing, a delight more trueThan that in which the brother Poets joy'd,Who with combined powers, their wit employ'dTo raise a trophy to the drama's muses.The thought of this great partnership diffusesOver the genius loving heart, a feelingOf all that's high, and great, and good, and healing.
Too partial friend! fain would I follow theePast each horizon of fine poesy;Fain would I echo back each pleasant noteAs o'er Sicilian seas, clear anthems float'Mong the light skimming gondolas far parted,Just when the sun his farewell beam has darted:But 'tis impossible; far different caresBeckon me sternly from soft "Lydian airs,"And hold my faculties so long in thrall,That I am oft in doubt whether at allI shall again see Phoebus in the morning:Or flush'd Aurora in the roseate dawning!Or a white Naiad in a rippling stream;Or a rapt seraph in a moonlight beam;Or again witness what with thee I've seen,The dew by fairy feet swept from the green,After a night of some quaint jubileeWhich every elf and fay had come to see:When bright processions took their airy marchBeneath the curved moon's triumphal arch.
But might I now each passing moment giveTo the coy muse, with me she would not liveIn this dark city, nor would condescend'Mid contradictions her delights to lend.Should e'er the fine-eyed maid to me be kind,Ah! surely it must be whene'er I findSome flowery spot, sequester'd, wild, romantic,That often must have seen a poet frantic;Where oaks, that erst the Druid knew, are growing,And flowers, the glory of one day, are blowing;Where the dark-leav'd laburnum's drooping clustersReflect athwart the stream their yellow lustres,And intertwined the cassia's arms unite,With its own drooping buds, but very white.Where on one side are covert branches hung,'Mong which the nightingales have always sungIn leafy quiet; where to pry, aloof,Atween the pillars of the sylvan roof,Would be to find where violet beds were nestling,And where the bee with cowslip bells was wrestling.There must be too a ruin dark, and gloomy,To say "joy not too much in all that's bloomy."
Yet this is vain--O Mathew lend thy aidTo find a place where I may greet the maid--Where we may soft humanity put on,And sit, and rhyme and think on Chatterton;And that warm-hearted Shakspeare sent to meet himFour laurell'd spirits, heaven-ward to intreat him.With reverence would we speak of all the sagesWho have left streaks of light athwart their ages:And thou shouldst moralize on Milton's blindness,And mourn the fearful dearth of human kindnessTo those who strove with the bright golden wingOf genius, to flap away each stingThrown by the pitiless world. We next could tellOf those who in the cause of freedom fell:Of our own Alfred, of Helvetian Tell;Of him whose name to ev'ry heart's a solace,High-minded and unbending William Wallace.While to the rugged north our musing turnsWe well might drop a tear for him, and Burns.
Felton! without incitements such as these,How vain for me the niggard Muse to tease:For thee, she will thy every dwelling grace,And make "a sun-shine in a shady place:"For thou wast once a flowret blooming wild,Close to the source, bright, pure, and undefil'd,Whence gush the streams of song: in happy hourCame chaste Diana from her shady bower,Just as the sun was from the east uprising;And, as for him some gift she was devising,Beheld thee, pluck'd thee, cast thee in the streamTo meet her glorious brother's greeting beam.I marvel much that thou hast never toldHow, from a flower, into a fish of goldApollo chang'd thee; how thou next didst seemA black-eyed swan upon the widening stream;And when thou first didst in that mirror traceThe placid features of a human face:That thou hast never told thy travels strange.And all the wonders of the mazy rangeO'er pebbly crystal, and o'er golden sands;Kissing thy daily food from Naiad's pearly hands.
Words in this poem 33
- trophy n.
- A sign or memorial of a victory raised on the field of battle, or, in case of a naval victory, on the nearest land. Sometimes trophies were erected in the chief city of the conquered people. [F. trophée (cf. It. & Sp. trofeo), L. tropaeum, trophaeum, Gr. Trope.]
- fain v. t.
- To be glad ; to wish or desire.
- poesy n.
- The art of composing poems; poetical skill or faculty; as, the heavenly gift of poesy. [F. poésie (cf. It. poesia), L. poesis, from Gr. Posy.]
- sicilian a.
- Of or pertaining to Sicily or its inhabitants. Sicilian vespers, the great massacre of the French in Sicily, in the year 1282, on the evening of Easter Monday, at the hour of vespers.
- skimming n.
- The act of one who skims.
- beckon v. t.
- To make a significant sign to; hence, to summon, as by a motion of the hand.
- sternly adv.
- In a stern manner.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- phoebus n.
- Apollo; the sun god.
- aurora n.
- The rising light of the morning; the dawn of day; the redness of the sky just before the sun rises. [L. aurora, for ausosa, akin to Gr. ushas, and E. east.]
- roseate a.
- Full of roses; rosy; as, roseate bowers. [Cf. L. roseus, rosatus, prepared from roses. See Roseal, Rose.]
- naiad n.
- A water nymph; one of the lower female divinities, fabled to preside over some body of fresh water, as a lake, river, brook, or fountain. [L. naias, -adis, naïs, -idis, a water nymph, Gr naïade. Cf. Naid.]
- rapt n.
- An ecstasy; a trance. Bp. Morton. [From F. rapt abduction, rape, L. raptus, fr. rapere to seize and carry off, to transport; or fr. E. rapt, a. See Rapt, a., and Rapid.]
- quaint a.
- Prudent; wise; hence, crafty; artful; wily. [OE. queint, queynte, coint, prudent, wise, cunning, pretty, odd, OF. cointe cultivated, amiable, agreeable, neat, fr. L. cognitus known, p. p. of cognoscere to ]
- triumphal n.
- A token of victory.
- condescend v. i.
- To stoop or descend; to let one's self down; to submit; to waive the privilege of rank or dignity; to accommodate one's self to an inferior. [F. condescendre, LL. condescendere, fr. L. con- + descendere. See Descend.]
- druid n.
- One of an order of priests which in ancient times existed among certain branches of the Celtic race, especially among the Gauls and Britons. [L. Druides; of Celtic origin; cf. Ir. & Gael. draoi, druidh, magician, Druid, W. derwydd Druid.]
- atween adv.
- Between. Spenser. [See Atwain, and cf. Between.]
- nestling n.
- A young bird which has not abandoned the nest. Piers Plowman.
- cowslip n.
- A common flower in England (Primula veris) having yellow blossoms and appearing in early spring. It is often cultivated in the United States. [AS. c, c, prob. orig., cow's droppings. Cf. Slop, n.]
- bloomy a.
- Full of bloom; flowery; flourishing with the vigor of youth; as, a bloomy spray.
- moralize v. t.
- To apply to a moral purpose; to explain in a moral sense; to draw a moral from. [Cf. F. moraliser.]
- dearth n.
- Scarcity which renders dear; want; lack; specifically, lack of food on account of failure of crops; famine. [OE. derthe, fr. dere. See Dear.]
- solace n.
- Comfort in grief; alleviation of grief or anxiety; also, that which relieves in distress; that which cheers or consoles; relief. [OF. solas, ssoulaz, L. solacium, solatium, fr. solari to comfort, console. Cf. Console, v. t.]
- unbending a.
- Not bending; not suffering flexure; not yielding to pressure; stiff; -- applied to material things. [In senses 1, 2, and 3, pref. un- not + bending; in sense 4, properly p. pr. unbend.]
- wast
- The second person singular of the verb be, in the indicative mood, imperfect tense; -- now used only in solemn or poetical style.
- diana n.
- The daughter of Jupiter and Latona; a virgin goddess who presided over hunting, chastity, and marriage; -- identified with the Greek goddess Artemis. [L. Diana.]
- uprising n.
- Act of rising; also, a steep place; an ascent.
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- didst
- , the 2d pers. sing. imp. of Do.
- placid a.
- Pleased; contented; unruffied; undisturbed; serene; peaceful; tranquil; quiet; gentle. [L. placidus, originally, pleasing, mild, from placere to please: cf. F. placide. See Please.]
- pebbly a.
- Full of pebbles; pebbled.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To George Felton Mathew is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems 1817, Project Gutenberg ebook #8209; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Keats, To George Felton Mathew, in Poems (1817) (1817), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #8209, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/keats-1817/to-george-felton-mathew.html, id L00407.
Form and metre
To George Felton Mathew is 93 lines in 5 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 90% of the lines: heroic couplets. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.3 syllables. 30 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 36% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in heroic couplets, other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABBCCDDEE belongA · songA · viewB · trueB · joy'dC · employ'dC · musesD · diffusesD · feelingE · healingE
- 2 A-BBCCDDEE--FFGGAAHH theeA · poesy · noteB · floatB · partedC · dartedC · caresD · airsD · thrallE · allE · morning · dawning · streamF · beamF · seenG · greenG · jubileeA · seeA · marchH · archH
- 3 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKK giveA · liveA · condescendB · lendB · kindC · findC · romanticD · franticD · growingE · blowingE · clustersF · lustresF · uniteG · whiteG · hungH · sungH · aloofI · roofI · nestlingJ · wrestlingJ · gloomyK · bloomyK
- 4 AABBCCDDEEFFGGG--HH aidA · maidA · onB · chattertonB · himC · himC · sagesD · agesD · blindnessE · kindnessE · wingF · stingF · tellG · fellG · tellG · solace · wallace · turnsH · burnsH
- 5 AABBCCDDEEFFGGFFBBHHII theseA · teaseA · graceB · placeB · wildC · undefil'dC · hourD · bowerD · uprisingE · devisingE · streamF · beamF · toldG · goldG · seemF · streamF · traceB · faceB · strangeH · rangeH · sandsI · handsI
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Nor can remembrance, Mathew! bring to view | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| A fate more pleasing, a delight more true | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·· |
| Than that in which the brother Poets joy'd, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Who with combined powers, their wit employ'd | 10 | ··˘//˘··˘/ |
| To raise a trophy to the drama's muses. | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| The thought of this great partnership diffuses | 11 | ·····/˘·˘/˘ |
| Over the genius loving heart, a feeling | 11 | ···/˘/˘··/˘ |
| Of all that's high, and great, and good, and healing. | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Too partial friend! fain would I follow thee | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Past each horizon of fine poesy; | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘˘ |
| Fain would I echo back each pleasant note | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| As o'er Sicilian seas, clear anthems float | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| 'Mong the light skimming gondolas far parted, | 11 | ···/˘/˘˘·/˘ |
| Just when the sun his farewell beam has darted: | 11 | ······/··/˘ |
| But 'tis impossible; far different cares | 10 | ··˘/˘·/˘˘· |
| Beckon me sternly from soft "Lydian airs," | 11 | /˘·/˘··/˘˘· |
| And hold my faculties so long in thrall, | 10 | ···/˘˘···· |
| That I am oft in doubt whether at all | 10 | ·········· |
| I shall again see Phoebus in the morning: | 11 | ··˘/·/˘··/˘ |
| Or flush'd Aurora in the roseate dawning! | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Or a white Naiad in a rippling stream; | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Or a rapt seraph in a moonlight beam; | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| Or again witness what with thee I've seen, | 10 | ·˘//˘····· |
| The dew by fairy feet swept from the green, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| After a night of some quaint jubilee | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Which every elf and fay had come to see: | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| When bright processions took their airy march | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| Beneath the curved moon's triumphal arch. | 10 | ····˘·˘/˘· |
| But might I now each passing moment give | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| To the coy muse, with me she would not live | 10 | ·········· |
| In this dark city, nor would condescend | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| 'Mid contradictions her delights to lend. | 10 | ··˘/˘·˘/·· |
| Should e'er the fine-eyed maid to me be kind, | 10 | ·········· |
| Ah! surely it must be whene'er I find | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| Some flowery spot, sequester'd, wild, romantic, | 11 | ·/˘·˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| That often must have seen a poet frantic; | 11 | ·/˘····/˘/˘ |
| Where oaks, that erst the Druid knew, are growing, | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| And flowers, the glory of one day, are blowing; | 11 | ·/·/˘····/˘ |
| Where the dark-leav'd laburnum's drooping clusters | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Reflect athwart the stream their yellow lustres, | 11 | ˘/˘/···/˘/˘ |
| And intertwined the cassia's arms unite, | 10 | ·˘/·/˘˘·/· |
| With its own drooping buds, but very white. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Where on one side are covert branches hung, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| 'Mong which the nightingales have always sung | 10 | ···/˘˘·/˘· |
| In leafy quiet; where to pry, aloof, | 10 | ·/˘/˘···˘/ |
| Atween the pillars of the sylvan roof, | 10 | ˘/·/˘··/˘· |
| Would be to find where violet beds were nestling, | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| And where the bee with cowslip bells was wrestling. | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| There must be too a ruin dark, and gloomy, | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| To say "joy not too much in all that's bloomy." | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Yet this is vain--O Mathew lend thy aid | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| To find a place where I may greet the maid-- | 10 | ·········· |
| Where we may soft humanity put on, | 10 | ····˘/˘˘·· |
| And sit, and rhyme and think on Chatterton; | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| And that warm-hearted Shakspeare sent to meet him | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| Four laurell'd spirits, heaven-ward to intreat him. | 11 | ···/˘/··˘/· |
| With reverence would we speak of all the sages | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| Who have left streaks of light athwart their ages: | 11 | ······˘/·/˘ |
| And thou shouldst moralize on Milton's blindness, | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| And mourn the fearful dearth of human kindness | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| To those who strove with the bright golden wing | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Of genius, to flap away each sting | 9 | ·/˘··˘/·· |
| Thrown by the pitiless world. We next could tell | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Of those who in the cause of freedom fell: | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Of our own Alfred, of Helvetian Tell; | 10 | ·/·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Of him whose name to ev'ry heart's a solace, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| High-minded and unbending William Wallace. | 11 | ·/˘··/˘/˘/˘ |
| While to the rugged north our musing turns | 10 | ···/˘·//˘· |
| We well might drop a tear for him, and Burns. | 10 | ·········· |
| Felton! without incitements such as these, | 10 | /˘··˘/˘··· |
| How vain for me the niggard Muse to tease: | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| For thee, she will thy every dwelling grace, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| And make "a sun-shine in a shady place:" | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| For thou wast once a flowret blooming wild, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Close to the source, bright, pure, and undefil'd, | 10 | ·········· |
| Whence gush the streams of song: in happy hour | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Came chaste Diana from her shady bower, | 11 | ··˘/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Just as the sun was from the east uprising; | 11 | ········˘/˘ |
| And, as for him some gift she was devising, | 11 | ········˘/˘ |
| Beheld thee, pluck'd thee, cast thee in the stream | 10 | ˘/········ |
| To meet her glorious brother's greeting beam. | 10 | ···/˘/˘/˘· |
| I marvel much that thou hast never told | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| How, from a flower, into a fish of gold | 10 | ···/······ |
| Apollo chang'd thee; how thou next didst seem | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| A black-eyed swan upon the widening stream; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And when thou first didst in that mirror trace | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| The placid features of a human face: | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| That thou hast never told thy travels strange. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| And all the wonders of the mazy range | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| O'er pebbly crystal, and o'er golden sands; | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Kissing thy daily food from Naiad's pearly hands. | 11 | /˘·/˘···/˘· |
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