XXVI.

Sephora held her to heart, the while
Grief had its way--then saw her gently laid
And bade her, kissing her blue eyes, beguile
Slumbering the fervid noon. Her leafy bed

Sighed forth o'erpowering breath; increased the heat;
Sleepless had been the night; her weary sense
Could now no more. Lone in the still retreat,
Wounding the flowers to sweetness more intense,

She sank. 'Tis thus, kind Nature lets our woe
Swell 'til it bursts forth from the o'erfraught breast;
Then draws an opiate from the bitter flow,
And lays her sorrowing child soft in the lap to rest.


XXVII.

Now all the mortal maid lies indolent
Save one sweet cheek which the cool velvet turf
Had touched too rude, tho' all the blooms besprent,
One soft arm pillowed. Whiter than the surf

That foams against the sea-rock, looked her neck,
By the dark, glossy, odorous shrubs relieved,
That close inclining o'er her seemed to reck