A thousand suns[1] will stream on thee, A thousand moons will quiver; But not by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. [1] 1842. A hundred suns The Beggar Maid First published in 1842, not altered since. Suggested probably by the fine ballad in Percy’s _Reliques_, first series, book ii., ballad vi. Her arms across her breast she laid; She was more fair than words can say: Bare-footed came the beggar maid Before the king Cophetua. In robe and crown the king stept down, To meet and greet her on her way; “It is no wonder,” said the lords, “She is more beautiful than day”. As shines the moon in clouded skies, She in her poor attire was seen: One praised her ancles, one her eyes, One her dark hair and lovesome mien: So sweet a face, such angel grace, In all that land had never been: Cophetua sware a royal oath: “This beggar maid shall be my queen!” The Vision of Sin First published in 1842. No alteration made in it after 1851, except in the insertion of a couplet afterwards omitted. This remarkable poem may be regarded as a sort of companion poem to _The Palace of Art_; the one traces the effect of callous indulgence in mere intellectual and æsthetic pleasures, the other of profligate indulgence in the grosser forms of sensual enjoyment. At first all is ecstasy and intoxication, then comes satiety, and all that satiety brings in its train, cynicism, pessimism, the drying up of the very springs of life. “The body chilled, jaded and ruined, the cup of pleasure drained to the dregs, the senses exhausted of their power to enjoy, the spirit of its wish to aspire, nothing left but loathing, craving and rottenness.” See Spedding in _Edinburgh Review_ for April, 1843. The poem concludes by leaving as an answer to the awful question, “can there be final salvation for the poor wretch?” a reply undecipherable by man, and dawn breaking in angry splendour. The best commentary on the poem would be Byron’s lyric: “There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away,” and _Don Juan_, biography and daily life are indeed full of comments on the truth of this fine allegory. 1 I had a vision when the night was late: A youth came riding toward a palace-gate. He rode a horse with wings, that would have flown,[1] But that his heavy rider kept him down. And from the palace came a child of sin, And took him by the curls, and led him in, Where sat a company with heated eyes, Expecting when a fountain should arise: A sleepy light upon their brows and lips— As when the sun, a crescent of eclipse, Dreams over lake and lawn, and isles and capes— Suffused them, sitting, lying, languid shapes, By heaps of gourds, and skins of wine, and piles of grapes. 2