y last,
I should hold thee fast,
Thou shouldst strive against me but in vain."

V.

"Eros will protect us, and will hover,
Guardian-like, above thee all the night,
Jealous of thee, as of some fond lover
Chiding back the rosy-fingered light--
He will be thine aid:
Canst thou feel afraid
When _his_ torch above us burneth bright?"

VI.

"Lo! the cressets of the night are waning--
Old Orion hastens from the sky;
Only thou of all things art remaining
Unrefreshed by slumber--thou and I.
Sound and sense are still;
Even the distant rill
Murmurs fainter now, and languidly."

VII.

"Come and rest thee, husband!"--And no longer
Could the young man that fond call resist:
Vainly was he warned, for love was stronger--
Warmly did he press her to his breast.
Warmly met she his;
Kiss succeeded kiss,
Till their eyelids closed with sleep oppressed.

VIII.

Soon Aurora left her early pillow,
And the heavens grew rosy-rich, and rare;
Laughed the dewy plain and glassy billow,
For the Golden God himself was there;
And the vapour-screen
Rose the hills between,
Steaming up, like incense, in the air.

IX.

O'er her husband sate Ione bending--
Marble-like and marble-hued he lay;
Underneath her raven locks descending,
Paler seemed his face, and ashen gray,
And so white his brow--
White and cold as snow--
"Husband! Gods! his soul hath passed away!"

X.

Raise ye up the pile with gloomy shadow--
Heap it with the mournful cypress-bough!--
And they raised the pile upon the meadow,
And they heaped the mournful cypress too;
And they laid the dead
On his funeral bed,
And they kindled up the flames below.

XI.

Swiftly rose they, and the corse surrounded,
Spreading out a pall into the air;
And the sharp and sudden crackling sounded
Mournfully to all the watchers there.
Soon their force was spent,
And the body blent
With the embers' slow-expiring glare.

XII.

Night again was come; but oh, how lonely
To the mourner did that night appear!
Peace nor rest it brought, but sorrow only,
Vain repinings and unwonted fear.
Dimly burned the lamp--
Chill the air and damp--
And the winds without were moaning drear.

XIII.