Within the stillness of his chamber, he
Open'd the flood-gates of his chill despair,
Darkening the midnight with deep misery,
Freighting the moments all with heavy care,
Weeping for her he loved so utterly,
Whose presence only made existence fair,
His pallid face sunk in the outspread palms,
Moist with the dew that her dear loss embalms.
LXXI.
Soft through the lattice steals a gentle voice,
Breathing his name in accents faint and weak,
Tones that in past days made his soul rejoice,
And now send crimson currents to his cheek.
"Dear vision," said he, "of long cherish'd joys!
"That now so sweetly in my soul dost speak,
"Fade not away, but like a fixëd star,
"Shine on my spirit from thy heavens afar.
LXXII.
"Oh! thou art lovely in thy radiant sphere,
"As thou wert once, the day-star of my heart,
"Revealing ever shadowless and clear
"The blessed rays that in thy spirit start.
"O light! O life! O angels hovering near!
"Pity us, sunder'd thus so far apart."
Upon her love the maid imploring cries—
Awaken, Julian, or thy loved one dies!
LXXIII.
He rose, and to the lattice trancëd went,
Where through the opened eaves the moonlight fell,
And to his tearful glances downward bent,
Show'd that dear form, loved and remember'd well.
Gazed he in fond and loving wonderment,
As one who slumbers under Fancy's spell,
On his beloved in cerements snowy white,
All in the moonrays pictured there so bright.