To kiss the worm-wet lips. “Aye! let me cling—
Cling to thee now forever!”—but a breath
Of rank corruption, from its jaws of death,
Went to his nostrils, and he madly laugh’d,
And dash’d it over on the altar shaft,
Which the new-risen moon, in her gray light,
Had fondly flooded, beautifully bright!
Again he went
To his world work beside the monument.
“Ha! leave, thou moon! where thy footfall hath been