AMIR KHAN.
17
He felt not that her cheek was cold;
His own heart throbbed with pleasure's thrill,
But whispered not that hers was still!
—Yes! the wild flow of blissful joy.
Which, bursting, threatened to destroy,
Gave to her soul a rest from feeling;
A transient torpor gently stealing
O'er beating pulse, and throbbing breast,
Had calmed her every nerve to rest;
—But see! the tide of life returns,
Once more her cheek with rapture burns,
Once more her dark eye's heavenly beam
Pours forth its full and piercing gleam,
Once more her heart is bounding high,
Too full to weep—too blest to sigh!
1824.
His own heart throbbed with pleasure's thrill,
But whispered not that hers was still!
—Yes! the wild flow of blissful joy.
Which, bursting, threatened to destroy,
Gave to her soul a rest from feeling;
A transient torpor gently stealing
O'er beating pulse, and throbbing breast,
Had calmed her every nerve to rest;
—But see! the tide of life returns,
Once more her cheek with rapture burns,
Once more her dark eye's heavenly beam
Pours forth its full and piercing gleam,
Once more her heart is bounding high,
Too full to weep—too blest to sigh!
1824.
