Classic Poem

On the green margin of the land
Where Guadalhorce winds his way
My Lady lay.
With golden key, Sleep's gentle hand
Had closed her eyes so bright,—
Her eyes, two suns of light,—
And bade his balmy dews
Her rosy cheeks suffuse.
The River God in slumber saw her laid,
He raised his dripping head
With weeds o'erspread,
Clad in his wintry robes approached the maid,
And with cold kiss, like Death,
Drank the rich perfume of the maiden's breath.
The maiden felt that icy kiss;
Her suns unclosed, their flame
Full and unclouded on the intruder came,
Amazed the bold intruder felt
His frothy body melt,
And heard the radiance on his bosom hiss;
And, forced in blind confusion to retire,
Leapt in the water to escape the fire.