Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/179

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Stifled his voice, and pulsed resolve away—
 * Fever'd his high conceit of such a bride,

Yet brought him to the meekness of a child: Alas! when passion is both meek and wild!

So once more he had waked and anguished
 * A dreary night of love and misery,

If Isabel's quick eye had not been wed
 * To every symbol on his forehead high;

She saw it waxing very pale and dead,
 * And straight all flush'd; so, lisped tenderly,

"Lorenzo!"—here she ceased her timid quests But in her tone and look he read the rest.

"O Isabella! I can half perceive
 * That I may speak my grief into thine ear;

If thou didst ever anything believe,
 * Believe how I love thee, believe how near

My soul is to its doom: I would not grieve
 * Thy hand by unwelcome pressing, would not fear

Thine eyes by gazing; but I cannot live Another night, and not my passion shrive.

"Love! thou art leading me from wintry cold,
 * Lady! thou leadest me to summer clime,

And I must taste the blossoms that unfold
 * In its ripe warmth this gracious morning time."

So said, his erewhile timid lips grew bold,
 * And poesied with hers in dewy rhyme;