Page:Moyarra- An Australian Legend in Two Cantos, 1891.djvu/65

 Thy funeral obsequies nothing are But trains to grace his conquering car. Go to thy chamber! wail the doom That on thyself must one day come. Gods! shall the Egyptian harlot shame the globe Who nobly dared to die Ere tricked in gorgeous robe She'd grace a Cæsar's pageantry ?

Yes, weep Moyarra! not for thee That face, now sealed in dim repose, Shall wake to soothe thy misery And wean thee from oppressing woes. Wreathed in the cold embrace of Death Thy bride from thy fond clasp is torn, And yielding languidly her breath She sinks forlorn: The teeth of pearl, which did surround The portals of that mine whence sprung The spells by which thy soul was bound When thy enchantress sung— Arrayed in grim defiance, woo