Who broke her heart and died to hide her blushing cheek from scorn.
One night he dreamt he wooed her in their wonted bower of love,
Where the flowers sprang thick around them, and the birds sang sweet above.
But the scene was swiftly changed into a churchyard’s dismal view,
And her lips grew black beneath his kiss, from love’s delicious hue.
What more he dreamt, he told to none; but, shuddering, pale, and dumb,
Looked out upon the waves, like one that knew his hour was come.
’Twas now the dead watch of the night—the helm was lashed a-lee,
And the ship rode where Mount Ætna lights the deep Levantine sea;
When beneath its glare a boat came, rowed by a woman in her shroud,