Page:Knight's Quarterly Magazine series 1 volume 2 (January–April 1824).djvu/363

With murderous kisses, drawing with its blood
Life’s blossoms from its heart;—shrieking aloud
Towards her child the hapless mother rush’d;
But the pale spectre glided from her sight
Upon her motionless feet!—The mother rain’d
Soft living kisses on the faded lip
Of her wan child, repeated oft its name,
Warm’d its cold cheek within her burning breast.
But vainly!—all was vain!—it was a corse,
And life returned no more!
Chilonis.
            Most horrible
The story thou hast told. The cool night air
Shall tempt my steps no further—I will fly
To save my babe from Lamia’s bloody kiss.
Ah, hapless lot of mothers!—scarce begins
The infant life to dawn, when adverse Powers
Threaten its safety,—does the birth-hour’s guard,
Majestic Hera, grant them to our vows,
That Hecate may send up Hades’ spawn,
Lamia, to torture and destroy?——Oh, haste!
Methinks I see the pallid spectre stand
Close to my infant’s couch!—
Lysippe.
              Nay, coward, stay!—
But now so bold, and now so struck by fear!
Still in extremes—look, scarcely glitters yet
One star above us. Seat thee by the spring;
I’ll fill the shining vases, and then go
Home to protect thy child.
Chilonis.
             ’Tis Lamia!—see!
Empusa, spare my babe!—a kid shall pour
Its life-blood to thy honour.
Lysippe.
            This is madness.
Or idle folly. Lamia never hears
Nor grants a pious prayer,—wild outcries, curses,
And terrible wrath alone can banish her.
Knowest thou her story?—I will tell it thee.
She is the child of a forbidden love;
For the bright Lybia bore her to her son