white hairs in the earth?--So when her fears
He saw would not be calmed, he did not part,
But lived in low estate, to dry her tears,
And crushed the full-grown-hopes, exulting at his heart."

XXI.

"The old man ceased; ere I could speak, his face
Grew more than mortail fair: a mellow light
Mantling around him fill'd the shady place
And while I wondering stood; he vanished from my sight.

XXII.

"This I had told,--but shame withheld--and fear
Thou'dst deem some spirit guilded me--disapprove--
Perchance forbid my customed wanderings here;
But whencesoe'er the vision, I have strove

"Still vainly to forget--I've heard the mourn
Kindred afar, and captive--oh! my mother--
Should he--my heaven announced--exist, return--
And meet me drear--lost--wedded to another"--

Then thus Sephora, "In the city where
Our kindred distant dwelt--blood has been shed--
Dreamer, had such heroic boy been there,
Belike he's numbered with the silent dead.

"Or doth he live he knows not--would not know
(Thralled--dead, to thee--in fair Assyrian arms.)
Who pines for him afar in fruitless woe
A phantom's bride--wasting love, life and charms.

XXIII.

"'Tis as a vine of Galilee should say,
Culturer, I reck not thy support, I sigh
For a young palm tree, of Euphrates; nay--
Or let me him entwine or in my blossom die.

"Thy heart is set on joys it may not prove,
And, panting ingrate, scorns the blessings given?--
Hoping from dust formed man, a seraph's love
And days on earth like to the days of heaven.

XXIV.

"But to my theme, maiden, a lord for thee,
And not of thee unworthy--I have chose--
Dispel the dread, that in thy looks I see--
Nor make it task of anguish to disclose,

"What should be--thine heart's dew. Remember'st thou
When to the Altar, by thy father reared,
We suppliant went with sacrifice and vow,
A victim-dove escaped? and there appeared

"And would have brought thee others to supply
Its loss, a Median?--thou, dissolved, to praise,
Didst note the beauty of his shape and eye,
And, as he parted, in the sunny rays

"The ringlets of his black locks clustering bright
Around his pillar-neck," ''tis pity he'
Thou saidst, 'in all the comeliness and might
Of perfect man--pity like him, should be

"But an idolater: how nobly sweet
He tempereth pride with courtesy; a flower
Drops honey when he speaks. Yet 'twere most meet
To praise his majesty: he stands--a tower.'

"The same, a false idolater no more,
Now