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I ask’d thee, “Give me immortality.” Then didst thou grant mine asking with a smile, Like wealthy men who care not how they give. But thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills, And beat me down and marr’d and wasted me, And tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’d[.]
Can thy love Thy beauty, make amends, tho’ even now, Close over us, the silver star, thy guide, Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears To hear me?
Thy cheek begins to redden thro’ the gloom, Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine, Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise, And shake the darkness from their loosen’d manes, And beat the twilight into flakes of fire.
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