Page:Hero and Leander - Marlowe and Chapman (1821).pdf/55

Rh Burn high my heart: the flowing surges brave; Love calls thee on; then wherefore heed the wave? His beauteous limbs disrobing, while he said, He roll'd his folded vestments round his head; Sprang from the shore at one adventurous leap, And cast his body midst the rolling deep. Straight towards the gleaming torch he clave the sea; The ship, the rower, and the helmsman he. The damsel Screen'd with her robe the flame: till now, nigh spent, Leander climb'd the harbouring shore's ascent. She on the threshold met, and silent round Her panting spouse her arms embracing wound. Foam drizzling from his locks, within the tower She led him to her secret virgin bower, Deck'd for a bride: with smoothing hand she skims The clinging brine-drops from his trickling limbs; With rosy-fragrant oils his body laves, And drowns in sweets the briny-breathing waves: On high-heap'd couch, then, breathless as he lies, Entwines around him, and enamour'd cries: "My husband! great thy sufferings; the salt brine Of bitter odour has enough been thine, And roarings of the sea: take now thy rest, And dry thy recking toils upon my breast." Swift at the word he loosed her virgin zone. Night o'er the scene adorning darkness shed; Nor e'er the morning in the well-known bed