As if she blush'd at holding sucha light,
Ev'n in the unseen presence of the night!
CXXIV.
Whereas her tragic cheek is truly pale,
And colder than the rude and ruffian air
That howls into her ear a horrid tale
Of storm and wreck, and uttermost despair,
Saying, "Leander floats amid the surge,
And those are dismal waves that sing his dirge."
CXXV.