XXXIV. Her eyes were open, but she still beheld, XXXV. "Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go." XXXVI. Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows XXXVII. 'Tis dark quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet: "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline !" 'Tis dark the iced gusts still rave and beat: "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine! Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing." "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride! Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed? A famish'd pilgrim,-saved by miracle. Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel." XXXIX. "Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, Let us away, my love, with happy speed; There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,— For o'er the Southern moors I have a home for thee." |