Listen to:
La Belle Dame Sans Merci (2:07)
by John Keats
performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode
Original version (1819)
Oh what can ail thee,
knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from
the lake,
And no birds sing.
Oh what can ail thee,
knight-at-arms,
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.
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.
I made a garland for her
head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked 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.
She found me roots of relish
sweet,
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 sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild
wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me
asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever
dreamt
On the cold hill 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!'
I saw their starved lips in
the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped 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 withered
from the lake,
And no birds sing.
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