LXXII. But cold and deaf the sullen creature lies, LXXIII. Surely he sleeps, so her false wits infer! That might denote a vision in his brain; Or if he does not sleep, he feigns too long, Twice she hath reach'd the ending of her song. LXXIV. Therefore 'tis time she tells him to uncover Those radiant jesters, and disperse her fears, Whereby her April face is shaded over, Like rainy clouds just ripe for showering tears; Nay, if he will not wake, so poor she gets, Herself must rob those lock'd up cabinets. LXXV. With that she stoops above his brow, and bids Her busy hands forsake his tangled hair, That she may gaze upon the jewels there, LXXVI. Now, picture one, soft creeping to a bed, And then starts back to find the sleeper dead; And seeing all within so drear and dark, Her own bright soul dies in her like a spark. LXXVII. Backward she falls, like a pale prophetess, Under the swoon of holy divination : And what had all surpass'd her simple guess, She now resolves in this dark revelation; Long sleep, deep night, and an entranced breath. LXXVIII. Yet life, though wounded sore, not wholly slain, LXXIX. Then like the sun, awaken'd at new dawn, But her true grief grows shapely by degrees, LXXX. And now she knows how that old Murther preys, Whose quarry on her lap lies newly slain; How he roams all abroad and grimly slays, Like a lean tiger in Love's own domain; Parting fond mates, and oft in flowery lawns Bereaves mild mothers of their milky fawns. LXXXI. O too dear knowledge! O pernicious earning! Ev'n now the sorrow of that deadly learning LXXXII. For as unwholesome winds decay the leaf, LXXXIII. Whence being shed, the liquid crystalline So one maid's trophy is another's tears! LXXXIV. "O foul Arch-Shadow, thou old cloud of Night, (Thus in her frenzy she began to wail,) Thou blank oblivion blotter out of light, Life's ruthless murderer, and dear love's bale! Leaving me here, and slaying the more sweet? LXXXV. "Lo! what a lovely ruin thou hast made, LXXXVI. "O doubly cruel! - twice misdoing spite, Yet thou shalt know me by my many sighs. Nay, then thou should'st have spared my rose, false Death, And known Love's flow'r by smelling his sweet breath; H |