Ah! once, how little did he think
An hour would come when he should shrink
With horror from that dear embrace,
Those gentle arms that were to him
Holy as is the cradling place
Of Eden's infant cherubim!
And now he yields--now turns away,
Shuddering as if the venom lay
All in those proffered lips alone--
Those lips that then so fearless grown
Never until that instant came
Near his unasked or without shame.
"Oh! let me only breathe the air.
"The blessed air, that's breathed by thee,
"And whether on its wings it bear
"Healing or death 'tis sweet to me!
"There--drink my tears while yet they fall--
"Would that my bosom's blood were balm,
"And, well thou knowst, I'd shed it all
"To give thy brow one minute's calm.
"Nay, turn not from me that dear face--
"Am I not thine--thy own loved bride--
"The one, the chosen one, whose place
"In life or death is by thy side?
"Thinkst thou that she whose only light,
"In this dim world from thee hath shone
"Could bear the long, the cheerless night
"That must be hers when thou art gone?
"That I can live and let thee go,
"Who art my life itself?--No, no--
"When the stem dies the leaf that grew
"Out of its heart must perish too!
"Then turn to me, my own love, turn,
"Before, like thee, I fade and burn;
"Cling to these yet cool lips and share
"The last pure life that lingers there!"
She fails--she sinks--as dies the lamp
In charnel airs or cavern-damp,
So quickly do his baleful sighs
Quench all the sweet light of her eyes,
One struggle--and his pain is past--
Her lover is no longer living!
One kiss the maiden gives, one last,
Long kiss, which she expires in giving!
"Sleep," said the PERI, as softly she stole
The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul,
As true as e'er warmed a woman's breast--
"Sleep on, in visions of odor rest
"In balmier airs than ever yet stirred
"The enchanted pile of that lonely bird
"Who sings at the last his own death-lay[165]
"And in music and perfume dies away!"
Thus saying, from her lips she spread
Unearthly breathings thro' the place
And shook her sparkling wreath and shed
Such lustre o'er each paly face
That like two lovely saints they seemed,
Upon the eve of doomsday taken
From their dim graves in ordor sleeping;
While that benevolent PERI beamed
Like their good angel calmly keeping
Watch o'er them till their souls would waken.
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