Page:Lalla Rookh - Moore - 1817.djvu/85

 Said in a tone whose anguish would have riven A heart of very marble, "Pure!--oh Heaven!"--

That tone--those looks so changed--the withering blight, That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light: The dead despondency of those sunk eyes, Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, He would have seen himself, too happy boy, Reflected in a thousand lights of joy: And then the place,--that bright, unholy place, Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace And charm of luxury as the viper weaves Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves, -- All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold As death itself;--it needs not to be told-- No, no--he sees it all plain as the brand Of burning shame can mark--whate'er the hand, That could from Heaven and him such brightness sever, 'Tis done--to Heaven and him she's lost for ever!