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to the nuptial bed of youthful love. POET. Why throbs my heart so fast, so low? What sets my seething blood aglow, And fills my sense with vague affright? Who raps upon my chamber-door? My lamp's spent ray upon the floor, Why does it dazzle me with light? Great God! my limbs sink under me! Who enters? who is calling? none! The clock strikes--I am all alone-- EEEEEO solitude! O poverty! MUSE. My poet, take thy lyre. Youth's living wine Ferments to-night within the veins divine. My breast is troubled, stifling with desire, The panting breeze has set my lips afire; O listless child, behold me, I am fair! Our first embrace dost thou so soon forget? How pale thou wast, when my wing grazed thy hair. Into mine arms thou fell'st, with eyelids wet! Oh, in thy bitter grief, I solaced thee, Dying of love, thy youthful strength outworn. Now I shall die of hope--oh comfort me! I need thy prayers to live until the morn. POET. Is it thy voice my spirit knows, O darling Muse! And canst thou be My own immortal one? my rose, Sole pure and faithful heart where glows A lingering spark of love for me? Yes, it is thou, with tresses bright, 'T is thou, my sister and my bride. I feel amidst the shadowy night, From thy gold gown the rays of light Within my heart's recesses glide. MUSE. My poet, take thy lyre. 'T is I, undying, Who seeing thee to-night so sad and dumb, Like to the mother-bird whose brood is crying, From utmost heaven to weep with thee have come. My friend, thou sufferest; a secret woe Gnaws at thy life, thou sighest in the night. Love visits thee, such love as mortals know, Shadow of gladness, semblance of delight. Rise, sing to God the thoughts that fill thy brain, Thy buried pleasures and thy long-past pain. Come, with a kiss, where unknown regions gleam, Awake the mingling echoes of thy days, Sing of thy folly, glory, joy and praise, Be all an unpremeditated dream! Let us invent a realm where one forgets, Come, we are all alone, the world is ours. Green Scotland tawny Italy offsets; Lo, Greece my mother, with her honeyed flowers,
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