ill influence, dared
    Within a space so holy to intrude,
    Till Death his terrible triumph had declared. 
    Then hush’d was all lament, all fear subdued;
    Each on those beauteous features gazed intent,
    And from despair was arm’d with fortitude. 
    As a pure flame that not by force is spent,
    But faint and fainter softly dies away,
    Pass’d gently forth in peace the soul content: 
    And as a light of clear and steady ray,
    When fails the source from which its brightness flows,
    She to the last held on her-wonted way. 
    Pale, was she? no, but white as shrouding snows,
    That, when the winds are lull’d, fall silently,
    She seem’d as one o’erwearied to repose. 
    E’en as in balmy slumbers lapt to lie
    (The spirit parted from the form below),
    In her appear’d what th’ unwise term to die;
    And Death sate beauteous on her beauteous brow.

    DACRE.

PART II

La notte che segui l’ orribil caso.

      The night—­that follow’d the disastrous blow
    Which my spent sun removed in heaven to glow,
    And left me here a blind and desolate man—­
    Now far advanced, to spread o’er earth began
    The sweet spring dew which harbingers the dawn,
    When slumber’s veil and visions are withdrawn;
    When, crown’d with oriental gems, and bright
    As newborn day, upon my tranced sight
    My Lady lighted from her starry sphere: 
    With kind speech and soft sigh, her hand so dear. 
    So long desired in vain, to mine she press’d,
    While heavenly sweetness instant warm’d my breast: 
    “Remember her, who, from the world apart,
    Kept all your course since known to that young heart.” 
    Pensive she spoke, with mild and modest air
    Seating me by her, on a soft bank, where,
    In greenest shade, the beech and laurel met. 
    “Remember? ah! how should I e’er forget? 
    Yet tell me, idol mine,” in tears I said,
    “Live you?—­or dreamt I—­is, is Laura dead?”
    “Live I?  I only live, but you indeed
    Are dead, and must be, till the last best hour
    Shall free you from the flesh and vile world’s power. 
    But, our brief leisure lest desire exceed,
    Turn we, ere breaks the day already nigh,
    To themes of greater interest, pure and high.” 
    Then I:  “When ended the brief dream and vain
    That men call life, by you now safely pass’d,
    Is death indeed such punishment and pain?”
    Replied she:  “While on earth your lot is cast,
    Slave to the world’s opinions blind and hard,
    True happiness shall ne’er your search reward;
    Death to the good a dreary prison opes,
    But to the vile and base, who all their hopes
    And cares below have fix’d, is full of fear;
    And this my loss, now mourn’d