Sweating and breathless, blindly I sought for water;
Prone to the floor I fell stumbling thwart Zamiel’s daughter.
Blood, from my aching wound, dripped to the floor;
Faint in a numbing swound I lay in my gore.
Then gentle hands poured cooling draught betwixt my parchéd lips
Forcing the elixir of life back in thirsty sips
And bending o’er my tumbled couch my azure pale Princess
Left on the Vampire’s burning wounds her cooling lips’ impress.