To read Keats' original first, click here.
My version follows:
The Eve Of St. Agnes: Angela.
I
St. Agnes' Eve - no more bitter was a night!
The cold sun did gently dip into the river'`s icy depths,
And the sheep in congregation - a shivering pack.
Frost clung to every timid twig and branch alike,
Whilst from her dwelling and observer cast
Her ageing eye over the frozen land below.
There trod a man, she saw, a slow but determined tread
Barefoot t'ward the graveyard, dead lamp his companion only.
He passed barely able, her heart warmed in relation.
II
In a moment Angela`'s glances were all disturbed
By sounds of sweet music and merriment below.
The Beadsman yonder trudged on but did pause
For a time, to lift his weary head at the sound.
Then on and away he shuffled ,numb, to the joys just begun.
Angela averted her gaze and descended with cautious limp
To the festivities around; her soul was still willing
For joys of life remaining still,
Yet her Beadsman body prevented such appreciation full.
III
The hills were alight, awash with lime and fire
As golden music and colour shone out with pride.
Bodies danced with glee around bright orange glows.
Gone was the chill- banished to the bed of the rivers
Now streaming with warmth and silver sparkle .
Every corner of the land awakened to joy
And a smile passed old Angela'`s creased lips
As she moved by great nourishment, a kaleidoscope
Of colours, to rest her aching body outside awhile.
IV
Ah - but great fortune she did!
For hence arrived but the eager youth,
Great enemy by blood to the dwellers of here.
At great panic the nurse arose to her feet,
`Get hence! Get hence young Porphyro, go now!
`Thy great hater Hildebrand is nearby.
`With him Lord Maurice - alas me, get hence!
`Thou timing is ill for my young Madeline sleeps
`To the ritual of St. Agnes` Eve - oh be gone!`
V
Passion in his fiery heart was only re-kindled
As Porphyro knew well of the tale of St. Agnes;
For if Madeline fasted, laid silent and supine
Casting her beautiful eyes just heaven bound,
Then then the old dames did say the girl
Would dream a blissful vision that night-
Her future lover would be presented unto her.
As Madeline, hopeful, prepared for skin angel white,
Porphyro, hopeful, pressed on poor Angela'`s goodness.
VI
Once concealing him, Angela queried his thoughts,
Witness to his request to be placed within Madeline`s' room.
'`Go, Go!`' she doth urge at his plan so questionable.
Yet soon, age gives in to youth`'s eagerness:
`It shall be as thou wishest, come.`
Angela lead him with such woe
But with promise to return with dainties
To nourish young Porphyro so, she embarked
Walking weakly, with sense of danger in her step.
VII
She did return as hastily be her ailments permit
With security and succulents for he.
Great foods a many she spread before him
Though she knew she was his key.
Yet still she warned of dangers great
And grew intense as fire`s heat drowned her brow.
Scarlet-cheeked Porphyro danced like a flame
As Angela hurried quickly away.
Burning heart of Porphyro settled silently to wait.
VIII
Not once did Angela gather sweet rest
All eve and morn she paced so restless:
`Oh the Beadsman! Oh Hildebrand!
`Oh what of the lovers and her part?`
The place was so still and dark now
But how her mind raced with such worry.
Chilled moon and iced stars gazed down upon
Her anxious eyes - dark and sullen,
Shaded from silver rays of hope above.
IX
Dragon of the horizon soon awoke
Breathing his fires of crimson and amber.
As morn drew on, Angela did tense so
For nearby came a sound of shuffling
Akin to the night rodent's scuffle
And two voices of youth drifted whispering
In the air, by the old crone as she sat
Unmoved, so silent: for she sought not now
To intercept their flight for life anew.
X
She watched with salty tear to cheek
As young Madeline and Porphyro
Made complete their flee from this place;
This place of age, this home of hate.
Free as the wind the lovers went
And sleepy clouds wept too from the dim
Light above. Ah - growing was the light!
Angela saw, for a new life was to begin
Whilst she settled her ageing body for soothing rest.
XI
Not so many moons after Hildebrand's storm
Did pass, came word from the hills
Of an old man's death; a Beadsman he was,
Burnt out lamp strewed beside.
Buried o'er the valley, not far away
Lay a worn old soul, defeated in health,
Struggles told in her very face.
Upon Angela's passing, St. Agnes' Eve gave way
To this , a more bitter night.
Based on and derived from John Keats': 'The Eve Of St. Agnes' - January 1819.
