With a light bound and rapturous murmur, stood Before the statue of the Grecian god.

"They tell me thou art stone,

Stern, passionless, and chill,-
Dead to the glow of noble thought,
And feeling's holy thrill:

They deem thee but a marble god,
The paragon of art,

A thing to charm the sage's eye,
But not to win the heart.

"Vain as their own light vows,
And soulless as their gaze,

The thought of quenching my deep love
By such ignoble praise!

I know that through thy parted lips
Language disdains to roll,

While on them rest so gloriously
The beamings of the soul.

That thy strong arm was round me flung,

And drew me to thy side,

While thy proud lip uncurled in love,

And hailed me as a bride.

"And then, methought, we sped,

Like thine own arrow, high,

Through fields of azure, orbs of light,
Amid the boundless sky:

Our way seemed walled with gorgeous gems,

As fell the starry gleams,

And the floating isles of pearly drops

Gave back their silver beams.

"Sphere-music, too, stole by

In the perfumed zephyr's play,

And the hum of worlds boomed solemnly
Across our trackless way:

Upon my cheek the wanton breeze
Thy glowing tresses flung;

Like loving tendrils, round my neck,
A golden band, they clung.

"Methought thou didst impart
The mysteries of earth,
And whisper lovingly the tale
Of thy celestial birth:

O'er Poetry's sublimest heights

Exultingly we trod;

Thy words were music―uttering

The genius of a god!

Give but a glance, breathe but a tone, — One word were ecstasy!

"Still mute? Then must I yield:
This fire will scathe my breast;
This weary heart will throb itself
To an eternal rest.

Yet still my soul claims fellowship
With the exalted grace,

The bright and thrilling earnestness,
The godlike, in thy face.

"Thou wilt relent at last,

And turn thy love-lit eye In pity on me, noble one!

To bless me ere I die.

And now, farewell, my vine-clad home! Farewell, immortal youth!

Let me behold thee when Love calls

The martyr to her truth!"