Her eye was fix’d, her spirit seem’d removed,
Though not from earth, from all it knew or loved,
Far, far away! Her handmaids watch’d around,
In awe, that lent to each low midnight sound
A might, a mystery; and the quivering light
Of wind-sway’d lamps made spectral in their sight
The forms of buried beauty, sad, yet fair,
Gleaming along the walls with braided hair,
Long in the dust grown dim; and she, too, saw,
But with the spirit’s eye of raptured awe,