Classic Poem

XLI.

The fair brow quivers fast and oft,
The smooth lips work and wane,
And hand, and cheek, and bosom thrill,
And writhe as if in pain;
And then in wan dismay she wakes,
And sees beside her bed
The spectral ghastliness whose gaze
Fills all the air with dread.

XLII.

She starts, and screams — O! spare me, spare!
I know thy torments well,
To punish fierce insatiate pride
Thou com'st to me from hell.
Forgive, beloved! return from death!
And soon thou shalt avow,
That she whose scorn was once so cold,
Can love no less than thou.

XLIII.

" But O! dark demon, if in vain
I pray the gods for aid,
Swift let me join my vanished love
In thy domain of shade;
And take these horrid eyes away,
So pitiless and hard,
I cannot bear the looks that oft
I bent upon the bard. "

XLIV.

She turned and hid her tearful face,
And sighs convulsive rose,
And broke the charm that chained the youth
In motionless repose.
But still with waking ear he caught
The groans of Myrto's pain,
For she herself before him lay
Within the sacred fane.

XLV.

He clasped her quick, and held her close
Upon his bounding breast,
With tears and kisses warmed her cheek,
And knew that he was blest.
And now the maid forgiveness asked,
Now upward looked and smiled,
And firmlier knit by sorrow past,
Their hearts were reconciled.

XLVI.

The golden sun sublime arose,
And filled the shrine with day,
The earth in gladness opened wide,
And green the valley lay;
Serenely bright the Goddess glowed
Amid the purpled air,
And looked with gracious eyes benign
On those adoring there.