Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/548

510 And clasps her Lord unto the breast

Which pants for one away:

And he to that embrace awakes,

And, happy in the thought, mistakes

That dreaming sigh, and warm caress,

For such as he was wont to bless;

And could in very fondness weep

O'er her who loves him even in sleep.

VI.

He clasped her sleeping to his heart,

And listened to each broken word:

He hears—Why doth Prince Azo start,

As if the Archangel's voice he heard?

And well he may—a deeper doom

Could scarcely thunder o'er his tomb,

When he shall wake to sleep no more,

And stand the eternal throne before.

And well he may—his earthly peace

Upon that sound is doomed to cease.

That sleeping whisper of a name

Bespeaks her guilt and Azo's shame.