Much in the same unconscious way we are impressed with an idea of her excelling loveliness:—
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
and which could make the dark vault of death "a feasting presence full of light." Without any elaborate description, we behold Juliet, as she is reflected in the heart of her lover, like a single bright star mirrored in the bosom of a deep, transparent well. The rapture with which he dwells on the "white wonder of her hand;" on her lips,
That even in pure and vestal modesty
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
And then her eyes, "two of the fairest stars in all the heavens!" In his exclamation in the sepulchre,
Ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair!
there is life and death, beauty and horror, rapture and anguish combined. The Friar's description of her approach,
O, so light a step
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint!
and then her father's similitude,
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field;—