XIX.

  And now the winged song has scaled the height
  Of that dark dwelling, builded for despair,
  And soon a little casement flashing bright
  Widens self-open’d into the cool air—­
  That music like a bird may enter there
  And soothe the captive in his stony cage;
  For there is nought of grief, or painful care,
  But plaintive song may happily engage
From sense of its own ill, and tenderly assuage.

XX.

  And forth into the light, small and remote,
  A creature, like the fair son of a king,
  Draws to the lattice in his jewell’d coat
  Against the silver moonlight glistening,
  And leans upon his white hand listening
  To that sweet music that with tenderer tone
  Salutes him, wondering what kindly thing
  Is come to soothe him with so tuneful moan,
Singing beneath the walls as if for him alone!

XXI.

  And while he listens, the mysterious song,
  Woven with timid particles of speech. 
  Twines into passionate words that grieve along
  The melancholy notes, and softly teach
  The secrets of true love,—­that trembling reach
  His earnest ear, and through the shadows dun
  He missions like replies, and each to each
  Their silver voices mingle into one,
Like blended streams that make one music as they run.

XXII.

  “Ah!  Love, my hope is swooning in my heart,—­”
  “Ay, sweet, my cage is strong and hung full high—­”
  “Alas! our lips are held so far apart,
  Thy words come faint,—­they have so far to fly!—­”
  “If I may only shun that serpent-eye,—­”
  “Ah me! that serpent-eye doth never sleep;—­”
  “Then, nearer thee, Love’s martyr, I will die!—­”
  “Alas, alas! that word has made me weep! 
For pity’s sake remain safe in thy marble keep!”

XXIII.

  “My marble keep! it is my marble tomb—­”
  “Nay, sweet! but thou hast there thy living breath—­”
  “Aye to expend in sighs for this hard doom;—­”
  “But I will come to thee and sing beneath,”
  “And nightly so beguile this serpent wreath;—­”
  “Nay, I will find a path from these despairs.” 
  “Ah, needs then thou must tread the back of death,
  Making his stony ribs thy stony stairs.—­
  Behold his ruby eye, how fearfully it glares!”

XXIV.

  Full sudden at these words, the princely youth
  Leaps on the scaly back that slumbers, still
  Unconscious of his foot, yet not for ruth,
  But numb’d to dulness by the fairy skill
  Of that sweet music (all more wild and shrill
  For intense fear) that charm’d him as he lay—­
  Meanwhile the lover nerves his desperate will,
  Held some short throbs by natural dismay,
Then down the serpent-track begins his darksome way.