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She blusht for shame, and fear'd.. for she be- For such her natural temper, what she likes

liev'd.

Yet was not courage wanting in the child.
No; I have often seen her with both hands
Shake a dry crocodile of equal highth,
And listen to the shells within the scales,
And fancy there was life, and yet apply
The jagged jaws wide open to her ear.
Past are three summers since she first beheld
The ocean; all around the child await
Some exclamation of amazement here:
She coldly said, her long-lashed eyes abased,
Is this the mighty ocean? is this all!

That wondrous soul Charoba once possest,
Capacious then as earth or heaven could hold,
Soul discontented with capacity,
Is gone, I fear, for ever. Need I say
She was enchanted by the wicked spells
Of Gebir, whom with lust of power inflamed
The western winds have landed on our coast.
I since have watcht her in each lone retreat,
Have heard her sigh and soften out the name,
Then would she change it for Egyptian sounds
More sweet, and seem to taste them on her lips,
Then loathe them. . Gebir, Gebir stil return'd.
Who would repine, of reason not bereft!
For soon the sunny stream of Youth runs down,
And not a gadfly streaks the lake beyond.
Lone in the gardens, on her gather'd vest
How gently would her languid arm recline!
How often have I seen her kiss a flower,
And on cool mosses press her glowing cheek!
Nor was the stranger free from pangs himself.
Whether by spell imperfect, or while brew'd
The swelling herbs infected him with foam,
Oft have the shepherds met him wandering
Thro' unfrequented paths, oft overheard
Deep groans, oft started from soliloquies
Which they believe assuredly were meant
For spirits who attended him unseen.
But when from his illuded eyes retired
That figure Fancy fondly chose to raise,
He clasped the vacant air and stood and gazed;
Then owning it was folly, strange to tell,
Burst into peals of laughter at his woes.
Next, when his passion had subsided, went
Where from a cistern, green and ruin'd, oozed
A little rill, soon lost; there gather'd he
Violets, and harebells of a sister bloom,
Twining complacently their tender stems
With plants of kindest pliability.
These for a garland woven, for a crown
He platted pithy rushes, and ere dusk

She speaks it out, or rather she commands.
And could Charoba say with greater ease
Bring me a water-melon from the Nile,
Than, if she lov'd him, Bring me him I love.
Therefor the death of Gebir is resolv'd."
"Resolv'd indeed," cried Myrthyr, nought
surprised,

"Precious my arts! I could without remorse
Kill, tho' I hold thee dearer than the day,
E'en thee thyself, to exercise my arts.
Look yonder! mark yon pomp of funeral!
Is this from fortune, or from favouring stars?
Dalica, look thou yonder, what a train!
What weeping! O what luxury! come, haste,
Gather me quickly up these herbs I dropt,
And then away. . hush! I must unobserved
From those two maiden sisters pull the spleen:
Dissemblers! how invidious they surround
The virgin's tomb, where all but virgins weep."
"Nay, hear me first," cried Dalica, "'tis hard
To perish to attend a forein king."

"Perish! and may not then mine eye alone Draw out the venom drop, and yet remain Enough? the portion cannot be perceived." Away she hasten'd with it to her home, And, sprinkling thrice fresh sulphur o'er the hearth,

Took up a spindle with malignant smile,
And pointed to a woof, nor spake a word;
'Twas a dark purple, and its dye was dread.

Plunged in a lonely house, to her unknown, Now Dalica first trembled: o'er the roof Wander'd her haggard eyes. . 'twas some relief.

The massy stones, tho' hewn most roughly, shew'd

The hand of man had once at least been there:
But from this object sinking back amazed,
Her bosom lost all consciousness, and shook
As if suspended in unbounded space.
Her thus entranced the sister's voice recall'd,
"Behold it here dyed once again! 'tis done."
Dalica stept, and felt beneath her feet
The slippery floor, with moulder'd dust be-

strewn :

But Myrthyr seized with bare bold-sinew'd arm
The grey cerastes, writhing from her grasp,
And twisted off his horn, nor feared to squeeze
The viscous poison from his glowing gums.
Nor wanted there the root of stunted shrub*
Which he lays ragged, hanging o'er the sands,
And whence the weapons of his wrath are death:

The grass was whiten'd with their roots knipt off. Nor the blue urchin that with clammy fint
These threw he, finisht, in the little rill
And stood surveying them with steady smile:
But such a smile as that of Gebir bids
To Comfort a defiance, to Despair
A welcome, at whatever hour she please.
Had I observ'd him I had pitied him,
I have observed Charoba: I have asked
If she loved Gebir.

Holds down the tossing vessel for the tides.
Together these her scient hand combined,
And more she added, dared I mention more.
Which done, with words most potent, thrice she

Love him! she exclamed With such a start of terror, such a flush Of anger, I love Gebir? I in love? And looked so piteous, so impatient looked.. And burst, before I answer'd, into tears. Then saw I, plainly saw I, 'twas not love;

dipt

The reeking garb; thrice waved it thro' the air: She ceast; and suddenly the creeping wool Shrunk up with crisped dryness in her hands: Take this" she cried "and Gebir is no more."

"

Bruce mentions the kind of shrub under which mostly the cerastes burrows.

†The ancients supposed the echinus marinus could sink ships by fastening itself to the keel.

SIXTH BOOK.

Now to Aurora borne by dappled steeds The sacred gate of orient pearl and gold, Smitten with Lucifer's light silver wand, Expanded slow to strains of harmony; The waves beneath in purpling rows, like doves Glancing with wanton coyness tow'rd their queen Heav'd softly; thus the damsel's bosom heaves When from her sleeping lover's downy cheek, To which so warily her own she brings Each moment nearer, she perceives the warmth Of coming kisses fann'd by playful Dreams. Ocean and earth and heaven was jubilee. For 'twas the morning pointed out by Fate. When an immortal maid and mortal man Should share each other's nature knit in bliss.

The brave Iberians far the beach o'erspread
Ere dawn, with distant awe; none hear the mew,
None mark the curlew flapping o'er the field;
Silence held all, and fond expectancy.
Now suddenly the conch above the sea
Sounds, and goes sounding thro' the wood pro-
found.

They, where they hear the echo, turn their eyes,
But nothing see they, save a purple mist
Roll from the distant mountain down the shore:
It rolls, it sails, it settles, it dissolves..
Now shines the Nymph to human eye reveal'd,
And leads her Tamar timorous o'er the waves.
Immortals crowding round congratulate
The shepherd; he shrinks back, of breath bereft:
His vesture clinging closely round his limbs
Unfelt, while they the whole fair form admire,
He fears that he has lost it, then he fears
The wave has mov'd it, most to look he fears.
Scarce the sweet-flowing music he imbibes,
Or sees the peopled ocean; scarce he sees
Spio with sparkling eyes, and Beroe
Demure, and young Ione, less renown'd,
Not less divine, mild-natured, Beauty form'd
Her face, her heart Fidelity; for Gods
Design'd, a mortal too Ione loved.
These were the Nymphs elected for the hour
Of Hesperus and Hymen; these had strewn
The bridal bed, these tuned afresh the shells,
Wiping the green that hoarsen'd them within:
These wove the chaplets, and at night resolved
To drive the dolphins from the wreathed door.
Gebir surveyed the concourse from the tents,
The Egyptian men around him; 'twas observ'd
By those below how wistfully he lookt,
From what attention with what earnestness
Now to his city, now to theirs, he waved
His hand, and held it, while they spake, outspred.
They tarried with him and they shared the feast.
They stoopt with trembling hand from heavy jars
The wines of Gades gurgling in the bowl;
Nor bent they homeward til the moon appear'd
To hang midway betwixt the earth and skies.
'Twas then that leaning o'er the boy beloved,
In Ocean's grot where Ocean was unheard,
"Tamar!" the Nymph said gently, "come
awake!

Enough to love, enough to sleep, is given,
Haste we away." This Tamar deem'd deceit,
Spoken so fondly, and he kist her lips,

Nor blusht he then, for he was then unseen.

But she arising bade the youth arise.

44

What cause to fly ?" said Tamar; she replied Ask none for flight, and feign none for delay." "O am I then deceived! or am I cast From dreams of pleasure to eternal sleep, And, when I cease to shudder, cease to be!" She held the downcast bridegroom to her breast, Lookt in his face and charm'd away his fears. She said not "wherefor have I then embraced You a poor shepherd, or at most a man, Myself a Nymph, that now I should deceive?" She said not..Tamar did, and was ashamed. Him overcome her serious voice bespake. "Grief favours all who bear the gift of tears! Mild at first sight he meets his votaries And casts no shadow as he comes along : But after his embrace the marble chills The pausing foot, the closing door sounds loud, The fiend in triumph strikes the roof, then falls The eye uplifted from his lurid shade. Tamar, depress thyself, and miseries Darken and widen: yes proud hearted man! The sea-bird rises as the billows rise; Nor otherwise when mountain floods descend Smiles the unsullied lotus glossy-hair'd. Thou, claiming all things, leanest on thy claim Til overwhelmed thro' incompliancy. Tamar, some silent tempest gathers round!" "Round whom?" retorted Tamar "thou de scribe

The danger, I will dare it."

What is unseen?"

"Who will dare

"The man that is unblest." "But wherefor thou? It threatens not thyself, Nor me, but Gebir and the Gadite host." "The more I know, the more a wretch am I," "stil thou

Groan'd deep the troubled youth,

procede."

Oh seek not destin'd evils to divine, Found out at last too soon! cease here the search, 'Tis vain, 'tis impious, 'tis no gift of mine:

I will impart far better, will impart
What makes, when Winter comes, the Sun to rest
So soon on Ocean's bed his paler brow,
And Night to tarry so at Spring's return.
And I will tell sometimes the fate of men
Who loos'd from drooping neck the restless arm
Adventurous, ere long nights had satisfied
The sweet and honest avarice of love;
How whirlpools have absorb'd them, storms o'er-
whelm'd;

And how amid their struggles and their prayers
The big wave blacken'd o'er the mouth supine:
Then, when my Tamar trembles at the tale,
Kissing his lips half open with surprise,
Glance from the gloomy story, and with glee
Light on the fairer fables of the Gods.

Thus we may sport at leisure when we go Where, loved by Neptune and the Naid, loved By pensive Dryad pale, and Oread

The spritely Nymph whom constant Zephyr woos.
Rhine rolls his beryl-colour'd wave; than Rhine
What river from the mountains ever came
More stately! most the simple crown adorns
Of rushes and of willows intertwined
With here and there a flower: his lofty brow
Shaded with vines and mistleto and oak

ile rears, and mystic bards his fame resound. Or gliding opposite, th' Illyrian gulf

Nor kiss thy brow nor cool it with a flower,
Yet will I hail thee, hail thy flinty couch

Will harbour us from ill." While thus he spake, Where Valour and where Virtue have reposed."

She toucht his eyelashes with libant lip,
And breath'd ambrosial odours, o'er his cheek
Celestial warmth suffusing: grief dispersed,
And strength and pleasure beam'd upon his brow.
Then pointed she before him: first arose
To his astonisht and delighted view

The sacred ile that shrines the queen of love.
It stood so near him, so acute each sense,
That not the symphony of lutes alone
Or coo serene or billing strife of doves,
But murmurs, whispers, nay the very sighs
Which he himself had utter'd once, he heard.
Next, but long after and far off, appear

The Nymph said, sweetly smiling" Fickle Man
Would not be happy could he not regret!
And I confess how, looking back, a thought
Has toucht and tun'd or rather thrill'd my heart,
Too soft for sorrow and too strong for joy:
Fond foolish maid, 'twas with mine own accord
It sooth'd me, shook me, melted, drown'd, in tears.
But weep not thou; what cause hast thou to weep?
Would'st thou thy country? would'st those caves
abhorr'd,

Dungeons and portals that exclude the day?

Gebir, tho' generous, just, humane, inhaled
Rank venom from these mansions. Rest O King

The cloudlike cliffs and thousand towers of Crete, In Egypt thou! nor, Tamar! pant for sway.

And further to the right, the Cyclades:
Phoebus had rais'd and fixt them, to surround
His native Delos and aerial fane.

He saw the land of Pelops, host of Gods,
Saw the steep ridge where Corinth after stood
Beckoning the serious with the smiling Arts
Into the sunbright bay; unborn the maid
That to assure the bent-up hand unskill'd
Lookt oft, but oftener fearing who might wake.
He heard the voice of rivers; he descried
Pindan Peneus and the slender Nymphs
That tread his banks but fear the thundering tide;
These, and Amphrysos and Apidanus
And poplar-crown'd Spercheus, and reclined
On restless rocks Enipeus, where the winds
Scatter'd above the weeds his hoary hair.
Then, with Pirene and with Panope,
Evenus, troubled from paternal tears,
And last was Achelous, king of isles.
Zacynthus here, above rose Ithaca,
Like a blue bubble floating in the bay.
Far onward to the left a glimm'ring light
Glanced out oblique, nor vanisht; he inquired
Whence that arose, his consort thus replied.
'Behold the vast Eridanus! ere long
We may again behold him and rejoice.
Of noble rivers none with mightier force
Rolls his unwearied torrent to the main."
And now Sicanian Etna rose to view:
Darkness with light more horrid she confounds,
Baffles the breath and dims the sight of day.
Tamar grew giddy with astonishment
And, looking up, held fast the bridal vest;
He heard the roar above him, heard the roar
Beneath, and felt too, as he beheld,

With horrid chorus, Pain, Diseases, Death,
Stamp on the slippery pavement of the proud,
And ring their sounding emptiness thro' earth.
Possess the ocean, me, thyself, and peace."

And now the chariot of the Sun descends,
The waves rush hurried from his foaming steeds,
Smoke issues from their nostrils at the gate,
Which when they enter, with huge golden bar
Atlas and Calpe close across the sea.

SEVENTH BOOK.

WHAT mortal first by adverse fate assail'd,
Trampled by tyranny or scoft by scorn,
Stung by remorse or wrung by poverty,
Bade with fond sigh his native land farewell?
Wretched! but tenfold wretched who resolv'd
Against the waves to plunge th' expatriate keel
Deep with the richest harvest of his land!

Driven with that weak blast which Winter leaves
Closing his palace-gates on Caucasus,
Oft hath a berry risen forth a shade;
From the same parent plant another lies
Deaf to the daily call of weary hind;
Zephyrs pass by and laugh at his distress.
By every lake's and every river's side
The nymphs and Naids teach Equality;
In voices gently querulous they ask,
"Who would with aching head and toiling arms
Bear the full pitcher to the stream far off?
Who would, of power intent on high emprise,
Deem less the praise to fill the vacant gulf
Then raise Charybdis upon Etna's brow?"

Hurl, from Earth's base, rocks, mountains, to the Amid her darkest caverns most retired,

skies.

Meanwhile the Nymph had fixt her eyes beyond,
As seeing somewhat, not intent on aught.
He, more amazed than ever, then exclamed
"Is there another flaming ile? or this
Illusion, thus past over unobserved?"
"Look yonder" cried the Nymph, without
reply,

"Look yonder!" Tamar lookt, and saw afar
Where the waves whiten'd on the desert shore.
When from amid grey occan first he caught
The hights of Calpe, sadden'd he exclamed,
"Rock of Iberia! fixt by Jove and hung
With all his thunder-bearing clouds, I hail
Thy ridges rough and cheerless! what tho' Spring

Nature calls forth her filial elements
To close around and crush that monster Void:
Fire, springing fierce from his resplendent throne,
And Water, dashing the devoted wretch
Woundless and whole with iron-colour'd mace,
Or whirling headlong in his war-belt's fold.
Mark well the lesson, man! and spare thy kind.
Go, from their midnight darkness wake the woods,
Woo the lone forest in her last retreat:
Many stil bend their beauteous heads unblest
And sigh aloud for-elemental man.
Thro' palaces and porches evil eyes
Light upon e'en the wretched, who have fled
The house of bondage or the house of birth;
Suspicions, murmurs, treacheries, taunts, retorts,

Attend the brighter banners that invade;
And the first horn of hunter, pale with want,
Sounds to the chase, the second to the war.
The long awaited day at last arrived.
When, linkt together by the seven-arm'd Nile,
Egypt with proud Iberia should unite.
Here the Tartesian, there the Gadite tents
Rang with impatient pleasure: here engaged
Woody Nebrissa's quiver-bearing crew,
Contending warm with amicable skill;
While they of Durius raced along the beach
And scatter'd mud and jeers on all behind.
The strength of Bætis too removed the he'm
And stript the corslet off, and staunch: the foot
Against the mossy maple, while they tore
Their quivering lances from the hissing wound.
Others push forth the prows of their compeers,
And the wave, parted by the pouncing beak,
Swells up the sides, and closes far astern:
The silent oars now dip their level wings,
And weary with strong stroke the whitening wave.
Others, afraid of tardiness, return:
Now, entering the still harbour, every surge
Runs with a louder murmur up their keel,
And the slack cordage rattles round the mast.
Sleepless with pleasure and expiring fears
Had Gebir risen ere the break of dawn,
And o'er the plains appointed for the feast
Hurried with ardent step: the swains admired
What so tranversely could have swept the dew;
For never long one path had Gebir trod,
Nor long, unheeding man, one pace preserved.
Not thus Charoba: she despair'd the day:
The day was present; true; yet she despair'd.
In the too tender and once tortured heart
Doubts gather strength from habit, like disease;
Fears, like the needle verging to the pole,
Tremble and tremble into certainty.
How often, when her maids with merry voice
Call'd her, and told the sleepless queen 'twas

morn,

How often would she feign some fresh delay,
And tell 'em (tho' they saw) that she arose.
Next to her chamber, closed by cedar doors
A bath of purest marble, purest wave,
On its fair surface bore its pavement high:
Arabian gold enchased the crystal roof,
With fluttering boys adorn'd and girls unrobed:
These, when you touch the quiet water, start
From their aerial sunny arch, and pant
Entangled mid each other's flowery wreaths,
And each pursuing is in turn pursued.

Here came at last, as ever wont at morn,
Charoba: long she linger'd at the brink,
Often she sighed, and, naked as she was,
Sat down, and leaning on the couchis edge,
On the soft inward pillow of her arm
Rested her burning cheek: she moved her eyes;
She blusht; and blushing plunged into the wave.
Now brazen chariots thunder thro' each street,
And neighing steeds paw proudly from delay.
While o'er the palace breathes the dulcimer,
Lute, and aspiring harp, and lisping reed;
Loud rush the trumpets bursting thro' the throng
And urge the high-shoulder'd vulgar; now are
heard

Curses and quarrels and constricted blows,
Threats and defiance and suburban war.

Hark! the reiterated clangoar sounds!
Now murmurs. Eke the sea or like the storm
Or like the flames on forests, move and mount
From rank to rank, and loud and louder roll,
Til all the people is one vast applause.
Yes. 'tis herself. Charoba.. now the strife
To see again a form so often seen!
Feel they some partial pang, some secret void,
Some doubt of feasting those fond eyes again!
Panting imbibe they that refreshing sight
To reproduce in hour of bitterness!
She goes, the king awaits her from the camp:
Him she descried, and trembled ere he reacht
Her car, but shudder'd paler at his voice.
So the pale silver at the festive board
Grows paler fill'd afresh and dew'd with wine;
So seems the tenderest herbage of the spring
To whiten, bending from a balmy gale.
The beauteous queen alighting he received,
And sighed to loose her from his arms; she hung
A little longer on them thro' her fears:
Her maidens followed her, and one that watcht,
One that had call'd her in the morn, observ'd
How virgin passion with unfuel'd flame
Burns into whiteness, while the blushing cheek
Imagination heats and Shame imbues.

Between both nations drawn in ranks they

pass:

The priests, with linen ephods, linen robes,
Attend their steps, some follow, some precede,
Where cloath'd with purple intertwined with gold
Two lofty thrones commanded land and main.
Behind and near them numerous were the tents
As freckled clouds o'erfloat our vernal skies,
Numerous as wander in warm moonlight nights
Along Meander's or Cayster's marsh,
Swans pliant-neckt and village storks revered.
Throughout each nation moved the hum confused.
Like that from myriad wings o'er Scythian cups
Of frothy milk, concreted soon with blood.
Throughout the fields the savoury smoke ascends,
And boughs and branches shade the hides un-
broacht.

Some roll the flowery turf into a seat,
And others press the helmet. . now resounds
The signal!.. queen and monarch mount the
thrones.

The brazen clarion hoarsens: many leagues
Above them, many to the south, the hern
Rising with hurried croak and throat outstretcht,
Plows up the silvering surface of her plain.

Tottering with age's zeal and mischief's haste
Now was discover'd Dalica; she reacht
The throne, she leant against the pedestal,
And now ascending stood before the king.
Prayers for his health and safety she prefer'd,
And o'er his head and o'er his feet she threw
Myrrh, nard, and cassia, from three golden urns;
His robe of native woof she next removed,
And round his shoulders drew the garb accurst,
And bow'd her head and parted: soon the queen
Saw the blood mantle in his manly cheeks,
And fear'd, and faltering sought her lost replies,
And blest the silence that she wisht were broke.
Alas! unconscious maiden! night shall close,
And love and sovranty and life dissolve,
And Egypt be one desert drencht in blood.

When thunder overhangs the fountain's head,

Losing its wonted freshness every stream
Grows turbid, grows with sickly warmth suffused :
Thus were the brave Iberians when they saw
The king of nations from his throne descend.
Scarcely, with pace uneven, knees unnerved,
Reacht he the waters: in his troubled ear
They sounded murmuring drearily; they rose
Wild, in strange colours, to his parching eyes;
They seem'd to rush around him, seem'd to lift
From the receding earth his helpless feet.

He fell .. Charoba shriekt aloud. . she ran ..
Frantic with fears and fondness, mazed with woe,
Nothing but Gebir dying she beheld.

The turban that betray'd its golden charge
Within, the veil that down her shoulders hung,
All fallen at her feet! the furthest wave
Creeping with silent progress up the sand,
Glided thro' all, and rais'd their hollow folds.
In vain they bore him to the sea, in vain
Rub'd they his temples with the briny warmth:
He struggled from them, strong with agony,
He rose half up, he fell again, he cried
"Charoba! O Charoba!" She embraced
His neck, and raising on her knee one arm,
Sighed when it moved not, when it fell she shriekt,
And clasping loud both hands above her head,
She call'd on Gebir, call'd on earth, on heaven.
"Who will believe me? what shall I protest?
How innocent, thus wretched! God of Gods,
Strike me.. who most offend thee most defy..
Charoba most offends thee.. strike me, hurl
From this accursed land, this faithless throne.
O Dalica! see here the royal feast!

See here the gorgeous robe! you little thought
How have the demons dyed that robe with death.
Where are ye, dear fond parents! when ye heard
My feet in childhood pat the palace-floor,
Ye started forth and kist away surprise:

Breath'd, and would feign it his that she resorbed,

She chafed the feathery softness of his veins, That swell'd out black, like tendrils round their

vase

After libation: lo! he moves! he groans! He seems to struggle from the grasp of death. Charoba shriekt and fell away, her hand Stil clasping his, a sudden blush o'erspred Her pallid humid cheek, and disappear'd. 'Twas not the blush of shame. . what shame has woe? ..

'Twas not the genuine ray of hope, it flasht With shuddering glimmer thro' unscatter'd clouds, It flasht from passions rapidly opposed.

Never so eager, when the world was waves, Stood the less daughter of the ark, and tried (Innocent this temptation!) to recall With folded vest and casting arm the dove; Never so fearful, when amid the vines Rattled the hail, and when the light of heaven Closed, since the wreck of Nature, first eclipst, As she was eager for his life's return, As she was fearful how his groans might end. They ended: cold and languid calm succedes; His eyes have lost their luster, but his voice Is not unheard, tho' short: he spake these words.

queen,

"And weepest thou, Charoba! shedding tears
More precious than the jewels that surround
The neck of kings entom'd! then weep, fair
At once thy pity and my pangs assuage.
Ah! what is grandour, glory. . they are past!
When nothing else, not life itself, remains,
Stil the fond mourner may be call'd our own.
Should I complain of Fortune? how she errs,
Scattering her bounty upon barren ground,
Slow to allay the lingering thirst of toil?

Will ye now meet me! how, and where, and Fortune, 'tis true, may err, may hesitate,

when?

And must I fill your bosom with my tears,
And, what I never have done, with your own!
Why have the Gods thus punisht me ? what harm
Have ever I done them? have I profaned
Their temples, askt too little, or too much?
Proud if they granted, griev'd if they witheld?
O mother! stand between your child and them!
Appease them, soothe them, soften their revenge,
Melt them to pity with maternal tears..
Alas, but if you cannot! they themselves
Will then want pity rather than your child.
O Gebir! best of monarchs, best of men,
What realm hath ever thy firm even hand
Or lost by feebleness or held by force!
Behold thy cares and perils how repaid!
Behold the festive day, the nuptial hour!"

Thus raved Charoba: horrour, grief, amaze,
Pervaded all the host; all eyes were fixt;
All stricken motionless and mute: the feast
Was like the feast of Cepheus, when the sword
Of Phineus, white with wonder, shook restrain'd,
And the hilt rattled in his marble hand.

She heard not, saw not, every sense was gone;
One passion banisht all; dominion, praise,
The world itself was nothing. Senseless man!
What would thy fancy figure now from worlds?
There is no world to those that grieve and love.
She hung upon his bosom, prest his lips,

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