But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress.[1]
BOKHARA'S maidens wear in mindfulness
Of friends or kindred, dead or far away;--
And such as ZELICA had on that day
He left her--when with heart too full to speak
He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek.
A strange emotion stirs within him,--more
Than mere compassion ever waked before;
Unconsciously he opes his arms while she
Springs forward as with life's last energy,
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound,
Sinks ere she reach his arms upon the ground;--
Her veil falls off--her faint hands clasp his knees--
'Tis she herself!--it is ZELICA he sees!
But, ah, so pale, so changed--none but a lover
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover
The once adorned divinity--even he
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed
Upon those lids where once such lustre blazed,
- ↑ "Deep blue is their mourning color." Hanway.
