And straight all flush’d; so lisped tenderly,
“Lorenzo!”—here she ceased her timid quest,
But in her tone and look he read the rest.
Oh, Isabella! I can half perceive
That I might speak my grief into thine ear;
If thou did’st ever anything believe.
Believe how I love thee—believe how near
My soul is to its doom: I would not grieve
Thy hand by unwelcome pressing, would not fear
Thine eyes by gazing; but I cannot live