Swiftly rose they, and the corse surrounded,
    Spreading out a pall into the air;
  And the sharp and sudden crackling sounded
    Mournfully to all the watchers there. 
        Soon their force was spent,
        And the body blent
    With the embers’ slow-expiring glare.

  XII.

  Night again was come; but oh, how lonely
    To the mourner did that night appear! 
  Peace nor rest it brought, but sorrow only,
    Vain repinings and unwonted fear. 
        Dimly burned the lamp—­
        Chill the air and damp—­
    And the winds without were moaning drear.

  XIII.

  Hush! a voice in solemn whispers speaking
    Breaks within the twilight of the room;
  And Ione, loud and wildly shrieking,
    Starts and gazes through the ghastly gloom. 
        Nothing sees she there—­
        All is empty air,
    All is empty as a rifled tomb.

  XIV.

  Once again the voice beside her sounded,
    Low, and faint, and solemn was its tone—­
  “Nor by form nor shade am I surrounded,
    Fleshly home and dwelling have I none. 
        They are passed away—­
        Woe is me! to-day
    Hath robbed me of myself, and made me lone.”

  XV.

  “Vainly were the words of parting spoken;
    Evermore must Charon turn from me. 
  Still my thread of life remains unbroken,
    And unbroken ever it must be;
        Only they may rest
        Whom the Fates’ behest
    From their mortal mansion setteth free.”

  XVI.

  “I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten—­
    Seen him wave afar his serpent-wand;
  But to me the Herald would not listen—­
    When the dead swept by at his command,
        Not with that pale crew
        Durst I venture too—­
    Ever shut for me the quiet land.”

  XVII.

  “Day and night before the dreary portal,
    Phantom-shapes, the guards of Hades, lie;
  None of heavenly kind, nor yet of mortal,
    May unchallenged pass the warders by. 
        None that path may go,
        If he cannot show
    His last passport to eternity.”

  XVIII.

  “Cruel was the spirit-power thou gavest—­
    Fatal, O Apollo, was thy love! 
  Pythian!  Archer! brightest God and bravest,
    Hear, O hear me from thy throne above! 
        Let me not, I pray,
        Thus be cast away: 
    Plead for me—­thy slave—­O plead to Jove!”

  XIX.

  “I have heard thee with the Muses singing—­
    Heard that full, melodious voice of thine,
  Silver-clear throughout the ether ringing—­
    Seen thy locks in golden clusters shine;
        And thine eye, so bright
        With its innate light,
    Hath ere now been bent so low as mine.”

  XX.