Page:Hero and Leander - Marlowe and Chapman (1821).pdf/91

"Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him:"
And, as she spake those words, came somewhat near him.
He started up; she blush'd as one asham'd,
Wherewith Leander much more was inflam'd.
He touch'd her hand; in touching it she trembled;
Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled.
These lovers parled by the touch of hands;
True love is mute; and oft amazed stands.
Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled,
The air with sparks of living fire was spangled;
And Night deep-drench'd in misty Acheron,
Heav'd up her head, and half the world upon,
Breath'd darkness forth; (dark night is Cupid's day)
And now begins Leander to display
Love's holy fire, with words, with sighs, and tears,
Which like sweet music enter'd Hero's ears:
And yet at every word she turn'd aside,
And always cut him off as he replied.
At last, like to a bold, sharp sophister,
With cheerful hope thus he accosted her:

"Fair creature, let me speak without offence:
I would my rude words had the influence