Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far
At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;
Into her dream he melted, as the rose
Blendeth its odour with violet,—
Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
Like Love's alarum, pattering the sharp sleet
Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.
- In case you were wondering, yeah—this stanza is where the magic happens.
- Porphyro basically rises from the dead: he not only physically raises himself up from where he's been kneeling on the floor, but his whole heat-sexual-passion thing is back in a big way. The speaker breaks out a simile to compare him to a "throbbing star," for Pete's sake.
- Also, he's now "beyond a mortal man"—Madeline has been lamenting in the last stanza that the Porphyro "chill and drear" before her paled (literally) in comparison to the "immortal looks" of the one from her dreams. Now, it looks like he's a lot more closely aligned with dreamy Porphyro.
- What happens next is the probably the most controversial part of the poem: Porphyro "melts" into Madeline's dream.
- Now, we understand that this is a figurative expression. Porphyro's not really melting, of course. What this line does mean, however, is something people have interpreted in all different sorts of ways. Some swear up and down that that this whole melting-blending-solution-making thing is a fancy poet way of describing Madeline and Porphyro having sex (and not necessarily the consensual kind) and we definitely get where they're coming from. The threat of sexual violence has been hanging over this poem since Porphyro first described his "stratagem" to the shocked Angela. Invoking the myth of Philomel's rape (and talking about Porphyro's "throbbing star") definitely provides good evidence for that argument.
- Others are on the opposite end of the spectrum, though, claiming that this "melting" is a moment of metaphysical transcendence enabled by the forces of the fertile imagination. Fancy-sounding, right? More simply put, some critics like to think of Porphyro as a Christian pilgrim (he's been described as an "eremite" who's been continuously seeking out the object of religious devotion: Madeline). They see this as the moment where he reaches spiritual transcendence. Through this melting, they think, Porphyro has arrived at some sort of paradise or immortality.
- This "melting" kind of helps us understand why Porphyro, who'd been so subdued when Madeline awoke, now sounds a lot more like the guy from her dream: he's now in her dream. The couple blends together in this way like the smell of a rose and the smell of a violet blend together. The simile reinforces that their connection is hard to pin down (where does one smell end and other begin?), but no less real.
- Meanwhile, things are happening: one, the storm outside is going nuts, as if it's Love's warning trumpets ("alarum" is an old word for a warning alarm, usually used when an enemy's approaching), and second, the moon has set.
- In case you were wondering if there's a fancy literary term for when the weather amps up just as the drama's really getting a move-on within a story, you'll be happy to know that there is: pathetic fallacy.
- We've been told all along by Angela and Porphyro that all of this St. Agnes' Eve stuff is pretty hokey, but it does seem like the setting of the moon (a traditional literary symbol for female power) signals oncoming danger here. By that token, it also seems like this particular night has been somehow protecting these two. And, when you think about it, Porphyro's gotten really lucky so far, from getting into the castle to getting Angela to work with him to "melting" with Madeline. Will it all come to a screeching halt? Only one way to find out, gang…