And presses his cold temples. Time rolls past,
Each moment an eternity—they cast
Inquiring glances on her; and they see
At last his dauntless spirit is set free,
Yet in her see no motion. But when gray
In the far east appeared the rising day,
They strove to raise the little arms that bound
His silent head and stony temples round,
They found her gentle spirit, too, had gone—
She was a corpse, like him she rested on!