DEATH SONG OF ALCESTIS.
37
Till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame
With the swift breeze of inspiration shook,
As the pale priestess trembles to the breath
Of inborn oracles!—then flush'd her cheek,
And all the triumph, all the agony,
Borne on the battling waves of love and death,
All from her woman's heart, in sudden song,
Burst like a fount of fire.
"I go, I go!
Thou Sun, thou golden Sun, I go,
Far from thy light to dwell;
Thou shalt not find my place below,
Dim is that world—bright Sun of Greece, farewell!"
The Laurel and the glorious Rose
Thy glad beam yet may see,
But where no purple summer glows,
O'er the dark wave I haste from them and thee.
