Oh! rich were the odours that floated there,
O’er the swan-like neck and the bosom fair;
And roses were mingled with sparkling pearls,
On the marble brow, and the cluster’d curls.
I stood in that hall, and my lips were mute,
And my spirit entranced with the elfin lute;
And the eyes that look’d on me seem’d fraught with love,
As the stars that make Night more divine above.
A sorrowful thought o’er my spirit came,
Like thunder-clouds kindling with gloom and flame;