Of blasts, in which its blue hair quivering bent,

Strewed strangest sounds the moving leaves

among;

A wondrous light, the sound as of a spirit's

tongue.

XXXIII.

The meteor showed the leaves on which we

sate,

And Cythna's glowing arms, and the thick ties Of her soft hair which bent with gathered

weight

My neck near hers, her dark and deepening

eyes,

Which, as twin phantoms of one star that lies O'er a dim well, move, though the star reposes, Swam in our mute and liquid ecstasies,

Her marble brow, and eager lips, like roses, With their own fragrance pale, which spring but half uncloses.

XXXIV.

The meteor to its far morass returned:
The beating of our veins one interval

Made still; and then I felt the blood that burned

Within her frame, mingle with mine, and fall
Around my heart like fire; and over all
A mist was spread, the sickness of a deep
And speechless swoon of joy, as might befall
Two disunited spirits when they leap

In union from this earth's obscure and fading sleep.

XXXV.

Was it one moment that confounded thus All thought, all sense, all feeling, into one

Unutterable power, which shielded us

Even from our own cold looks, when we had

gone

Into a wide and wild oblivion

Of tumult and of tenderness? or now
Had ages, such as make the moon and sun,
The seasons, and mankind their changes
know,

Left fear and time unfelt by us alone below?

XXXVI.

I know not. What are kisses whose fire clasps The failing heart in languishment, or limb Twined within limb? or the quick dying gasps

Of the life meeting, when the faint eyes swim Through tears of a wide mist boundless and dim

In one caress? What is the strong control Which leads the heart that dizzy steep to climb,

Where far over the world those vapours roll Which blend two restless frames in one reposing soul?

XXXVII.

It is the shadow which doth float unseen,
But not unfelt, o'er blind mortality,
Whose divine darkness fled not, from that

green

And lone recess, where lapped in peace did lie Our linked frames; till, from the changing

sky,

That night and still another day had fled; And then I saw and felt. The moon was high, And clouds, as of a coming storm, were spread Under its orb,-loud winds were gathering overhead.

XXXVIII.

Cythna's sweet lips seemed lurid in the moon, Her fairest limbs with the night wind were chill,

And her dark tresses were all loosely strewn O'er her pale bosom :-all within was still, And the sweet peace of joy did almost fill The depth of her unfathomable look ;

And we sate calmly, though that rocky hill, The waves contending in its caverns strook, For they foreknew the storm, and the grey ruin shook.

XXXIX.

There we unheeding sate, in the communion
Of interchangèd vows, which, with a rite
Of faith most sweet and sacred, stamped our
union.-

Few were the living hearts which could unite
Like ours, or celebrate a bridal night

With such close sympathies, for to each other Had high and solemn hopes, the gentle might Of earliest love, and all the thoughts which smother

Cold Evil's power, now linked a sister and a brother.

XL.

And such is Nature's modesty,' that those Who grow together cannot choose but love, If faith or custom do not interpose, Or common slavery mar what else might move All gentlest thoughts; as in the sacred grove Which shades the springs of Ethiopian Nile, That living tree, which, if the arrowy dove 1 See Hamlet, Act III, Scene 2: step not the modesty of nature."-ED.

"that you

o'er

Strike with her shadow, shrinks in fear awhile, But its own kindred leaves clasps while the sun-beams smile,

XLI.

And clings to them when darkness may dis

sever

The close caresses of all duller plants

Which bloom on the wide earth-thus we forever

Were linked, for love had nursed us in the haunts

Where knowledge from its secret source enchants

Young hearts with the fresh music of its springing,

Ere yet its gathered flood feeds human wants As the great Nile feeds Egypt; ever flinging Light on the woven boughs which o'er its waves are swinging.

XLII.

The tones of Cythna's voice like echoes were Of those far murmuring streams; they rose and fell,

Mixed with mine own in the tempestuous air,

And so we sate, until our talk befell

Of the late ruin, swift and horrible,

And how those seeds of hope might yet be

sown,

Whose fruit is Evil's mortal poison: well, For us, this ruin made a watch-tower lone, But Cythna's eyes looked faint, and now two days were gone

XLIII.

Since she had food:-therefore I did awaken

The Tartar steed, who, from his ebon mane, Soon as the clinging slumbers he had shaken, Bent his thin head to seek the brazen rein, Following me obediently; with pain

Of heart, so deep and dread, that one caress, When lips and heart refuse to part again, Till they have told their fill, could scarce express

The anguish of her mute and fearful tenderness,

XLIV.

Cythna beheld me part, as I bestrode

That willing steed-the tempest and the night,

Which gave my path its safety as I rode Down the ravine of rocks, did soon unite The darkness and the tumult of their might Borne on all winds.-Far through the streaming rain

Floating at intervals the garments white Of Cythna gleamed, and her voice once again Came to me on the gust, and soon I reached the plain.

XLV.

I dreaded not the tempest, nor did he
Who bore me, but his eyeballs wide and red
Turned on the lightning's cleft exultingly;
And when the earth beneath his tameless
tread

Shook with the sullen thunder, he would spread

His nostrils to the blast, and joyously

Mock the fierce peal with neighings;-thus

we sped

O'er the lit plain, and soon I could descry Where Death and Fire had gorged the spoil of victory.