And LEON, by her kindness warmed, And reckless drained the fatal draught. V. And pale and corpse-like there they stood As held by some unhallowed spell, Till to their hearts flowed back the blood,Then shrieking on the floor they fell. A moment, cold as lifeless clay, In strong convulsions writhing lay, Unlit by reason's faintest ray; Then rose, and met their eyes of fire, Till from their frozen, ghastly eyes, Broke through the damask curtains bright, They sat all cold, and stark, and still, In every vein death's icy chill The frightful wrecks of mutual ill. VI. Old UGo to the spot was led By many a menial's piercing cry, And darted on the ghastly dead Shooting cold tremors through each vein, And fiery venom to the brain. He drew his sword half from its sheath, As if to wreak his ire on death; Then thrust it back, and with a sneer VII No weeds, no funeral pomp was there; But in the silent hour of even, By menial hands they were conveyed Slowly along the myrtle shade To an unconsecrated grave; Their constant dirge the moaning wave. VIII. And there they lie! how calm their sleep! The long unbroken dream of death! Aloof the trembling woodnymphs keep— For ever nature holds her breath, Gliding on tiptoe by the spot, As timid maid by haunted grot. Lifeless the leaves around it lie The flowers scarce open ere they die One pale white rose, upon the tomb, IX. There cross nor crypt doth mark the spot, Nor tell the lonely sleepers' lot; The cypress in funereal gloom Folds its dark arms above the tomb. Since that sad eve, its sickly sod No human foot hath ever trod; But when night draws her curtain there, Sits weeping by it mute Despair; And Sorrow sends a mournful wail Along the silent, spectral vale. X. Never again that fair-haired bride Saw her young lord. What did betide Him on the night he left her side She never knew.-'Twas mystery all. She lingered like the fairy rose O'er which the sudden simoon blows And then, in sable weeds arrayed, To her own isle. But she was changed- Had moved, in maiden's brightest sheen, She wanders with dishevelled hair, And when the image she would clasp, Falling upon the ground, she lies, Piercing the air with hideous cries; And thus noon, night, she raved the same, To moulder in the maniac's grave |