She answer'd ne'er a word, but stood stone still,
Fetter'd as 'twere within some horrid trance,
Alive to torture and to deadly ill,
Yet powerless of a word, a sigh, a glance;
But when he fled at last, a mortal thrill
Shot cold and icy through her like a lance,
And down she swoon'd, without a word or tear;
It made those guilty men grow pale with fear.
XLIII.
They bore her, stirless, to her snowy nest,
Stirless, they laid her there as cold as lead,
All in her stainless bridal garments drest,
With fragrant blossoms circled round her head.
They laid their hands upon her dewy breast,
And trembled back as those who touch the dead;
They wiped the dew from off her clammy brow,
And shudder'd, 'twas so cold and passive now.
XLIV.
Vainly they pierced the fair and rounded arm,
No crimson stream gush'd o'er its spotless snow;
Vainly they sought the frozen heart to warm,
And bid its chill'd and torpid currents flow;
Vainly they practised every learnëd charm
To call into the veins life's ruddy glow;
Stirless, they laid her on that bridal bed,
Stirless, she lay, all life and motion fled.
XLV.
The life-long night they watched and laboured there,
With fearful whispers pulsing on the ear,
The trembling women gasping many a prayer,
Wrung by a rustle, freighted up with fear,
Till morning came, and with it came despair,
So still she lay, so icy cold and sere;
And silently and slow they crept away,
With bated breath as though she slumb'ring lay.