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But weep; for, when her faint Before his throne, subdued by some un-
limbs did refuse
seen emotion.-

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Yet-yet-one brief relapse, like the last beam

Of dying flames, the stainless air

Hung silent and serene-a blood-red gleam


And is this death? The pyre has disappeared,

The Pestilence, the Tyrant, and the throng;

The flames grow silent-slowly there is heard

The music of a breath-suspending song,

Which, like the kiss of love when life is young,

With strange and star-bright flowers which to the wind Breathed divine odour; high above was spread

The emerald heaven of trees of un-
known kind,
Whose moonlike blooms and bright
fruit overhead

Burst upwards, huling fiercely
from the ground

The globed smoke; I heard the A shadow which was light upon the
mighty sound

waters shed.

Of its uprise, like a tempestuous


And through its chasms I saw as
in a swound

The tyrant's child fall without life or motion

Steeps the faint eyes in darkness sweet and deep;

With ever-changing notes it floats along,

Till on my passive soul there seemed to creep


melody, like waves on wrinkled sands that leap.


The warm touch of a soft and tremulous hand

Wakened me then; lo! Cythna sate reclined

Beside me, on the waved and golden sand

Of a clear pool, upon a bank o'ertwined


And round about sloped many a lawny


With incense-bearing forests, and

vast caves

Of marble radiance, to that mighty

And, where the flood its own bright
margin laves,

Whose golden waves in many a purple line

Fade fast, till, borne on sunlight's ebbing streams,

Their echoes talk with its eternal Dilating, on earth's verge the sunken

meteor gleams.


Which from the depths whose jagged
caverns breed

Their unreposing strife it lifts and

Till through a chasm of hills they roll,
and feed

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Its keel has struck the sands beside our feet.

Then Cythna turned to me, and from her eyes,

Which swam with unshed tears, a look more sweet

Than happy love, a wild and glad surprise,

Glanced as she spake: "Ay, this is Paradise,

And not a dream, and we are all united!

Lo! that is mine own child, who in the guise

Of madness came, like day to one benighted

In lonesome woods; my heart is now too well requited!"


And then she wept aloud, and in her


Clasped that bright Shape, less marvellously fair

Than her own human hues and living charms;

Which, as she leaned in passion's silence there,

Breathed warmth on the cold bosom of the air,

Which seemed to blush and tremble with delight;

The glossy darkness of her streaming hair

Fell o'er that snowy child, and wrapped from sight The fond and long embrace which did

their hearts unite.


Then the bright child, the plumèd
Seraph, came,

And fixed its blue and beaming
eyes on mine,

And said: "I was disturbed by tremu-
lous shame

Awed by the ending of their own desire,

The armies stood; a vacancy was

When first we met, yet knew that In expectation's depth, and so they stood
I was thine,


From the same hour in which thy
lips divine

Kindled a clinging dream within my

Which ever waked when I might
sleep, to twine

Thine image with her memory dear-

We meet; exempted now from mortal fear or pain.


ous stream.

"When the consuming flames had wrapped ye round,

Have ye done well? They moulder,
flesh and bone,

The hope which I had cherished
went away;

Who might have made this life's
envenomed dream

I fell in agony on the senseless ground,
And hid mine eyes in dust, and A sweeter draught than ye will ever taste,

I deem.

far astray

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"The frightful silence of that altered mood

The tortures of the dying clove alone, Till one uprose among the multitude, And said: The flood of time is rolling on;

We stand upon its brink, whilst they are gone

To glide in peace down death's mysteri

Above the towers, like night; beneath whose shade,


"These perish as the good and great of yore

Have perished, and their murderers will repent.

Yes, vain and barren tears shall flow before

Yon smoke has faded from the firmament,

Even for this cause, that ye, who must lament

The death of those that made this world so fair,

Cannot recall them now; but there is lent

To man the wisdom of a high despair When such can die, and he live on and linger here.


"Ay, ye may fear- not now the Pestilence,

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