Shelley placed a hand on the shoulder of each. The touch was warm and dry, and Keats shivered; he’d never gone so exposed into the world. For the first time he understood how one became naked in these gowns. Shelley guided them away from the balcony, smiling, and stationed himself in their place. He straightened his soldier’s jacket and hat, clasped his hands behind him, swelled his breast and spoke.
As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
I met Murder on the way—
He had a mask like Castlereagh—
Very smooth he looked, yet grim;
Seven blood-hounds followed him:
All were fat: and well they might
Be in admirable plight,
For one by one, and two by two,
He tossed them human hearts to chew,
