BOOK THE NINTH.
319
These eyeless sockets, and these unflesh'd jaws,
That with their ghastly grinning, seem to mock
Thy perishable charms; for thus thy cheek 105
Must moulder! Child of Grief! shrinks not thy soul,
Viewing these horrors? trembles not thy heart
At the dread thought, that here its life's-blood soon
Shall stagnate, and the finely-fibred frame,
Now warm in life and feeling, mingle soon 110
With the cold clod? a thought most horrible!
So only, dreadful, for reality
Is none of suffering here; here all is peace;
No nerve will throb to anguish in the grave.
Dreadful it is to think of losing life, 115
But having lost, knowledge of loss is not
Therefore no ill. Haste, Maiden, to repose;
Probe deep the seat of life.
So spake Despair.
The vaulted roof echoed his hollow voice,
And all again was silence. Quick her heart 120
Panted. He drew a dagger from his breast,
That with their ghastly grinning, seem to mock
Thy perishable charms; for thus thy cheek 105
Must moulder! Child of Grief! shrinks not thy soul,
Viewing these horrors? trembles not thy heart
At the dread thought, that here its life's-blood soon
Shall stagnate, and the finely-fibred frame,
Now warm in life and feeling, mingle soon 110
With the cold clod? a thought most horrible!
So only, dreadful, for reality
Is none of suffering here; here all is peace;
No nerve will throb to anguish in the grave.
Dreadful it is to think of losing life, 115
But having lost, knowledge of loss is not
Therefore no ill. Haste, Maiden, to repose;
Probe deep the seat of life.
So spake Despair.
The vaulted roof echoed his hollow voice,
And all again was silence. Quick her heart 120
Panted. He drew a dagger from his breast,
And
