VIII.
ST. LUCIA.
“What’s this? Two human eyes upon a dish?
Wretch! what dost mean?” “Lucia sends thee these;
She greets thee: 'Be no longer ill at ease;
They are thine! When mine, a spirit devilish,
With them, with pink bloom and pale limbs, did fish
For men’s souls.’” Quick! to her—ere horror freeze.
Her wan lips smiled beneath the bandages:
“Thou hast languished for mine eyes—have, then, thy wish!”
She raised the fillet—the youth dropped as dead.