[She attempts to bind his wounds.
Look on me, love!
Why, there is more than life in thy glad mien—
’Tis full of hope! and from thy kindled eye
Breaks e’en unwonted light, whose ardent ray
Seems born to be immortal!
Raim. ’Tis e’en so!
The parting soul doth gather all her fires
Around her; all her glorious hopes, and dreams,
And burning aspirations, to illume