Of her unswerving soul—’twas but a thought
That own’d the summer loveliness of life
For him a worthy offering! So she stood,
Wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile;
Till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame
With the swift breeze of inspiration shook,
As the pale priestess trembles to the breath
Of inborn oracles! Then flush’d her cheek,
And all the triumph, all the agony,
Borne on the battling waves of love and death,