Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/341

Rh So, lean on me you are not well. This way. Pluck up good heart, sir ; we shall soon be there. [Exeunt.

His heavy sleep still lasts. Despite the words Of the physician, I can cast not off That ghastly fear. Albeit he owned no drugs, This deathlike slumber, this deep breathing slow, His livid pallor makes me dread each moment His weary pulse will cease. This is the end, And from the first I knew it. The worst evil My warning tongue had wrought were joy to this. No heavier curse could I invoke on her Than that she see him in her dreams, her thoughts, As he is now. I could no longer bear it ; I have fled hither from his couch to breathe To quicken my spent courage for the end. I cannot pray my heart is full of curses. He sleeps ; he rests. What better could I wish For his rent heart, his stunned, unbalanced brain, Than sleep to be eternally prolonged?

Enter FIAMETTA. ANNICCA looks up anxiously, half rising.

How now ? What news?