LVI.
And for a moment all around gave way
To that full burst of passion! On his breast,
Like a bird panting yet from fear, she lay,
But blest—in misery’s very lap—yet blest!
O love, love, strong as death!—from such an hour
Pressing out joy by thine immortal power;
Holy and fervent love! had earth but rest
For thee and thine, this world were all too fair
How could we thence be wean’d to die without despair?