XXXIX.

´Hark! ´tis an elfin-storm from faery land,
“Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
“Arise—arise! the morning is at hand;—
“The bloated wassaillers will never heed:—
“Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
“There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,—
“Drown´d all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:
“Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be, 350
“For o´er the southern moors I have a home for thee.”

"The Eve of St. Agnes"
John Keats