With clasping spirits link’d so long by grief,
By tears, by prayer?
Eugene. E’en therefore we can part,
With an immortal trust, that such high love
Is not of things to perish.
Let me leave
One record still of its ethereal flame
Brightening through death’s cold shadow. Once again,
Stand with thy meek hands folded on thy breast,
And eyes half veil’d, in thine own soul absorb’d,