Page:Hero and Leander - Marlowe and Chapman (1821).pdf/50

xl They bring no incense to the immortal shrine, But seek the maids who there assembled shine. Now Hero walk'd the fane with virgin grace; A shining beauty lightening from her face, As white the moon emerges to the view With her clear visage of transparent hue,— Such Hero's cheek; but on those cheeks of snow, Were two vermilion circles seen to glow: And he, that look'd on Hero's limbs, had said, That meads of roses there their colours spread. Soft blush'd her tinted limbs; her ancles glow'd With roses, as the robe's white drapery flow'd Light-wafted with her step; soft graces skim Round all her form, and float from every limb: Three Graces live in legendary lies: A thousand spring from Hero's laughing eyes. As o'er the temple's marble floor she moved, Men's eyes, hearts, souls, with all her motions roved. Thou too, Leander! martyr of desire, Didst view the noble maid with glance of fire; But loth, in secret, passion's stings to prove, And yield the mind a prey to wasting love; Loth, while with flamy-breathing dart subdued, To drag a life of sighing solitude Without the beauteous maid. The torch of flame Fierce on the heart from mingling eyebeams came: His heart quick trembled, Shameless from love, some few soft steps he took, Confronting stood, and fix'd the virgin's look;