Page:Hero and Leander - Marlowe and Chapman (1821).pdf/91

 "Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him:" And, as she spake those words, came somewhat near him. He started up; she blush'd as one asham'd, Wherewith Leander much more was inflam'd. He touch'd her hand; in touching it she trembled; Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled. These lovers parled by the touch of hands; True love is mute; and oft amazed stands. Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled, The air with sparks of living fire was spangled; And Night deep-drench'd in misty Acheron, Heav'd up her head, and half the world upon, Breath'd darkness forth; (dark night is Cupid's day) And now begins Leander to display Love's holy fire, with words, with sighs, and tears, Which like sweet music enter'd Hero's ears: And yet at every word she turn'd aside, And always cut him off as he replied. At last, like to a bold, sharp sophister, With cheerful hope thus he accosted her:

"Fair creature, let me speak without offence: I would my rude words had the influence