With eyes responsive and united hands
And thrilling melodies.
My husband on the bed,
Warrior out-worn, was lying; and his breast
Filled with the dewy rest:
For thou, O raven-plumed power,
Wert o’er him waving thy Lethean wings,
Flinging thy poppied odors o’er
His languid breast and eyes;
All grateful rites complete, and pious sacrifice.