XXXVI. Thus he beholds her rocking on the water, Under the glossy umbrage of her hair, Like pearly Amphitrite's fairest daughter Mislodging music in her pitiless breast, XXXVII. They say there be such maidens in the deep, As drowsy men are poison'd through the ear; This snowy swan is come to sing his dirge. XXXVIII. At which he falls into a deadly chill, And strains his eyes upon her lips apart; Fearing each breath to feel that prelude shrill, Pierce through his marrow, like a breath-blown dart Shot sudden from an Indian's hollow cane, With mortal venom fraught, and fiery pain. G XXXIX. Here then, poor wretch, how he begins to crowd There seem'd so brief a pause of life allow'd, A moment's musing- but an age to tell. XL. For there stood Hero, widow'd at a glance, Time's tragic consequents ere time began, XLI. A moment's thinking, is an hour in words, As when the crew, XLII. hard by some jutty cape, Struck pale and panick'd by the billows' roar, And let their bark go driving on the shore; Gazing on Scylla, falls upon her neck. XLIII. For he hath all forgot the swimmer's art, XLIV. Lo! how she startles at the warning shock, More like his safe smooth harbour than his rock; He cannot loose him from his grappling foe, XLV. His eyes are blinded with the sleety brine, His ears are deafen'd with the wildering noise; But foamy waves choke up his struggling voice; And Hero's name dies bubbling on his lips. XLVI. Look how a man is lower'd to his grave; A yearning hollow in the green earth's lap; The plunging sea fills up the watery gap; Anon he is all gone, and nothing seen, But likeness of green turf and hillocks green. XLVII. And where he swam, the constant sun lies sleeping, Over the verdant plain that makes his bed; And all the noisy waves go freshly leaping, Like gamesome boys over the churchyard dead; XLVIII. Yet weep and watch for him though all in vain! Ye moaning billows, seek him as ye wander! Ye gazing sunbeams, look for him again ! Ye winds, grow hoarse with asking for Leander ! XLIX. She says L. She holds the casket, but her simple hand Some dead man's spoil, and sicken of his pest. |