10.
I oft have pale spectres before now
Conjured with magical might;
They refuse to return any more now
To their former dwelling of night.
The word that commands their submission
I forgot in my terror and fear;
My own spirits now seek my perdition,
Within their prison-house drear.
Dark demons, approach not a finger!
Away, nor to torment give birth!
Full many a joy still may linger
In the roseate light of this earth.
I needs must be evermore striving
To reach the flower so fair;
O, what were the use of my living
If I may cherish her ne’er?
To my glowing heart fain would I press her,
Would clasp her for once to my breast,
On her lips and her cheeks once caress her,
With sweetest of torments be blest.
If once from her mouth I could hear it,
Could hear one fond whisper bestow’d,
I would follow thee, beckoning Spirit,
Yea, e’en to thy darksome abode.
The spirits have heard, and draw nigh me,
And nod with terrific glee:
Sweet love, with an answer supply me,—
Sweet love, O lovest thou me?