Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/54

Rh

The festal robe still sparkled as it flow'd; Still on her neck a few fresh flowers glow'd: The warmth her sandal'd foot hath scarcely left, Light from the dance, though now of motion reft! —The agony is over,—and she raised Her feeble head, and round her faintly gazed: She saw, she leant upon 's breast, Murmur'd his name, and sank as if to rest. ", sweet, speak to me again!" Thou fond one—even thou must ask in vain: Ay, kiss those lips, and fancy they have breath, Till they chill even thee:—they're damp with death.

The night is over,—night which seem'd to be Endless, O lost ! to thee: