53
ISABELLA.
VIII.
That I may speak my grief into thine ear;
If thou didst ever any thing believe,
Believe how I love thee, believe how near60
My soul is to its doom: I would not grieve
Thy hand by unwelcome pressing, would not fear
Thine eyes by gazing; but I cannot live
Another night, and not my passion shrive."
IX.
Lady! thou leadest me to summer clime,
And I must taste the blossoms that unfold
In its ripe warmth this gracious morning time."
So said, his erewhile timid lips grew bold,
And poesied with hers in dewy rhyme:70
Great bliss was with them, and great happiness
Grew, like a lusty flower in June's caress.
