of the will is permitted; one that does not agree therewith is forbidden. A will whose maxims necessarily coincide with the laws of autonomy is a holy will, good absolutely. The dependence of a will not absolutely good on the principle of autonomy (moral necessitation) is obligation. This then cannot be applied to a holy being. The objective necessity of actions from obligation is called duty. JOHN KEATS JOHN KEATS. Born in London, 1795; died in Rome, 1821. Author of "Endymion, a Poetic Romance," "Lamia, Isabella, the Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems," "Hyperion." This charming poet, sensitive as a flower, yet passionately intense in feeling and expression, sank under adverse, cruel criticism to an untimely grave. He requested that his epitaph should be, "Here lies one whose name was writ in water," but the works of his imagination were too perfect to allow his name to pass into oblivion. His "Ode on a Grecian Urn" would of itself confer upon its author an undying fame. (From "ENDYMION") A THING of beauty is a joy forever: Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. A flowery band to bind us to the earth, For simple sheep; and such are daffodils ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains Of beechen green, and shadows numberless O for a draft of vintage, that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country-green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs; Where youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs; Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rime, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: do I wake or sleep? --- ODE ON A GRECIAN URN THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness! A flowery tale more sweetly than our rime: In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? what maidens loath? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild esctasy? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal - yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Forever piping songs forever new; Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn? Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with breed When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. |