LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC.
But on their foam did revel
The likeness of a devil
To work me bitter evil,
This unredeeming pain.
Here cruel winds and biting
Descend upon the wold ;
Here frost and snow are smiting
The sons of earth with cold.
The raw air steams and shivers
Above the sluggish rivers,
And birds are dumb, the givers
Of melodies untold.
Here death has quite forgotten
An eager lover waits
To pass in yonder rotten
Black boat his icy gates.
He will not free his lover
Till Proserpine discover
How near he hangs above her,
And yearns towards the Fates.
Nor life nor death will hear him,
Nor God nor Satan aid ;
Though Love no more endear him,
Nor Passion make afraid.
Too cold, too calm, too holy
He stands, consuming slowly
In the strong flame that wholly
Absorbs his vital shade.
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