Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/104

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He knock'd—but faintly—for his trembling hand
Refus'd to aid his heavy heart's demand.
The portal opens—'tis a well known face—
But not the form he panted to embrace.
Its lips are silent—twice his own essay'd,
And fail'd to frame the question they delay'd;
He snatch'd the lamp—its light will answer all—
It quits his grasp—expiring in the fall.
He would not wait for that reviving ray—1760
As soon could he have lingered there for day;
But, glimmering through the dusky corridore,
Another chequers o'er the shadowed floor;
His steps the chamber gain—his eyes behold
All that his heart believed not—yet foretold!


He turn'd not—spoke not—sunk not—fix'd his look,
And set the anxious frame that lately shook:
He gazed—how long we gaze despite of pain.
And know—but dare not own we gaze in vain!
In life itself she was so still and fair,1770
That death with gentler aspect withered there;