Did the green earth, from its chalice,
Drink his bosom’s brightest wine,
And the latest name that faltered on his dying lips, was thine!”
With a scream, as agonizing
In its horror and despair,
As if life’s last hold were started,
Ere the soul in torture parted,
Stood she, pale and shuddering, there,
With her face of marble lifted in the cavern’s noisome air.
“God of Heaven! that fearful image,