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“She had the Asiatic eye,
“Such as our Turkish neighbourhood
“Hath mingled with our Polish blood,210
“Dark as above us is the sky;
“But through it stole a tender light,
“Like the first moonrise at midnight;
“Large, dark, and swimming in the stream,
“Which seem’d to melt to its own beam;
“All love, half languor, and half fire,
“Like saints that at the stake expire,
“And lift their raptured looks on high,
“As though it were a joy to die.
“A brow like a midsummer lake,220
“Transparent with the sun therein,
“When waves no murmur dare to make,
“And heaven beholds her face within.
“A cheek and lip—but why proceed?
“I loved her then—I love her still;
“And such as I am, love indeed
“In fierce extremes—in good and ill.
“But still we love even in our rage,

“And haunted to our very age