I.

"Wilt not lay thee down in quiet slumber?

Weary dost thou seem, and ill at rest; Sleep will bring thee dreams in starry number-- Let him come to thee and be thy guest.

Midnight now is past-- Husband! come at last-- Lay thy throbbing head upon my breast."

II.

"Weary am I, but my soul is waking; Fain I'd lay me gently by thy side, But my spirit then, its home forsaking, Through the realms of s.p.a.ce would wander wide-- Everything forgot, What would be thy lot, If I came not back to thee, my bride?"

III.

"Music, like the lute of young Apollo, Vibrates even now within mine ear; Soft and silver voices bid me follow, Yet my soul is dull and will not hear.

Waking it will stay: Let me watch till day-- Fainter will they come, and disappear."

IV.

"Speak not thus to me, my own--my dearest!

These are but the phantoms of thy brain; Nothing can befall thee which thou fearest, Thou shalt wake to love and life again.

Were this sleep thy 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 gla.s.sy billow, For the Golden G.o.d 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! G.o.ds! his soul hath pa.s.sed 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.

Hush! a voice in solemn whispers speaking Breaks within the twilight of the room; And Ione, loud and wildly shrieking, Starts and gazes through the ghastly gloom.

Nothing sees she there-- All is empty air, All is empty as a rifled tomb.

XIV.

Once again the voice beside her sounded, Low, and faint, and solemn was its tone-- "Nor by form nor shade am I surrounded, Fleshly home and dwelling have I none.

They are pa.s.sed away-- Woe is me! to-day Hath robbed me of myself, and made me lone."

XV.

"Vainly were the words of parting spoken; Evermore must Charon turn from me.

Still my thread of life remains unbroken, And unbroken ever it must be; Only they may rest Whom the Fates' behest From their mortal mansion setteth free."

XVI.

"I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten-- Seen him wave afar his serpent-wand; But to me the Herald would not listen-- When the dead swept by at his command, Not with that pale crew Durst I venture too-- Ever shut for me the quiet land."

XVII.

"Day and night before the dreary portal, Phantom-shapes, the guards of Hades, lie; None of heavenly kind, nor yet of mortal, May unchallenged pa.s.s the warders by.

None that path may go, If he cannot show His last pa.s.sport to eternity."