wly bending down, made tuneful parlance there.
Like perfume, soft his gentle accents rose,
And sweetly thrilled the gilded roof along;
His warm, devoted soul no terror knows,
And truth and love lend fervor to his song.
She hides her face upon her couch, that there
She may not see him die. No groan--she springs
Frantic between a hope-beam and despair,
And twines her long hair round him as he sings.
Then thus: "O! being, who unseen but near,
Art hovering now, behold and pity me!
For love, hope, beauty, music--all that's dear,
Look, look on me, and spare my agony!
Spirit! in mercy make not me the cause,
The hateful cause, of this kind being's death!
In pity kill me first! He lives--he draws--
Thou wilt not blast?--he draws his harmless breath!"

Still lives Altheetor; still unguarded strays
One hand o'er his fallen lyre; but all his soul
Is lost--given up. He fain would turn to gaze,
But cannot turn, so twined. Now all that stole
Through every vein, and thrilled each separate nerve,
Himself could not have told--all wound and clasped
In her white arms and hair. Ah! can they serve
To save him? "What a sea of sweets!" he gasped,
But 'twas delight: sound, fragrance, all were breathing.
Still swelled the transport: "Let me look and thank:"
He sighed (celestial smiles his lips enwreathing,)
"I die--but ask no more," he said, and sank;
Still by her arms supported--lower--lower--
As by soft sleep oppressed; so calm, so fair,
He rested on the purple tapestried floor,
It seemed an angel lay reposing there.

And Zophiel exclaims,

"He died of love, or the o'er-perfect joy
Of being pitied--prayed for--pressed by thee.
O! for the fate of that devoted boy
I'd sell my birthright to eternity.
I'm not the cause of this thy last distress.
Nay! look upon thy spirit ere he flies!
Look on me once, and learn to hate me less!"
He said; and tears fell fast from his immortal eyes.

Beloved and admired at first, Egla becomes an object of hatred and
fear; for Zophiel being invisible to others her story is discredited,
and she is suspected of murdering by some baleful art all who have
died in her presence. She is, however, sent safely to her home, and
lives, as usual, in retirement with her parents. The visits of Zophiel
are now unimpeded.