Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 5.djvu/641

CANTO II.] Drain every drop!—to-morrow we may die.

In summer garments be our limbs arrayed;

Around our waists the Tappa's white displayed;

Thick wreaths shall form our coronal, like Spring's,

And round our necks shall glance the Hooni strings;

So shall their brighter hues contrast the glow

Of the dusk bosoms that beat high below.

III.

But now the dance is o'er—yet stay awhile;

Ah, pause! nor yet put out the social smile.

To-morrow for the Mooa we depart,

But not to-night—to-night is for the heart.

Again bestow the wreaths we gently woo,

Ye young Enchantresses of gay Licoo!

How lovely are your forms! how every sense

Bows to your beauties, softened, but intense,

Like to the flowers on Mataloco's steep,

Which fling their fragrance far athwart the deep!—