Page:Felicia Hemans in The Amulet 1832.pdf/3

The soft pure air
Came floating through that hall—the Grecian air,
Laden with music—flute-notes from the vales,
Echoes of song, the last sweet sounds of life;
And the glad sunshine of the golden clime
Streamed, as a royal mantle, round her form,
The glorified of love! But she—she looked
Only on Him for whom 'twas joy to die—
Deep, deepest, holiest joy! Or if a thought
Of the warm sunlight, and the glowing air,
And the sweet Dorian songs, o'erswept the tide
Of her unswerving soul; 'twas but a thought
That owned the summer loveliness of life
For Him a worthy offering! So she stood,
Wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile,
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 flushed 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 wilt not find my place below;
Dim is that world:—bright sun of Greece! farewell!