1130
He paused, and to my lips he bent
His own:  like spirit his words went
Through all my limbs with the speed of fire;
And his keen eyes, glittering through mine,
Filled me with the flame divine, 1135
Which in their orbs was burning far,
Like the light of an unmeasured star,
In the sky of midnight dark and deep: 
Yes, ’twas his soul that did inspire
Sounds, which my skill could ne’er awaken; 1140
And first, I felt my fingers sweep
The harp, and a long quivering cry
Burst from my lips in symphony: 
The dusk and solid air was shaken,
As swift and swifter the notes came 1145
From my touch, that wandered like quick flame,
And from my bosom, labouring
With some unutterable thing: 
The awful sound of my own voice made
My faint lips tremble; in some mood 1150
Of wordless thought Lionel stood
So pale, that even beside his cheek
The snowy column from its shade
Caught whiteness:  yet his countenance,
Raised upward, burned with radiance 1155
Of spirit-piercing joy, whose light,
Like the moon struggling through the night
Of whirlwind-rifted clouds, did break
With beams that might not be confined. 
I paused, but soon his gestures kindled 1160
New power, as by the moving wind
The waves are lifted, and my song
To low soft notes now changed and dwindled,
And from the twinkling wires among,
My languid fingers drew and flung 1165
Circles of life-dissolving sound,
Yet faint; in aery rings they bound
My Lionel, who, as every strain
Grew fainter but more sweet, his mien
Sunk with the sound relaxedly; 1170
And slowly now he turned to me,
As slowly faded from his face
That awful joy:  with looks serene
He was soon drawn to my embrace,
And my wild song then died away 1175
In murmurs:  words I dare not say
We mixed, and on his lips mine fed
Till they methought felt still and cold: 
‘What is it with thee, love?’ I said: 
No word, no look, no motion! yes, 1180
There was a change, but spare to guess,
Nor let that moment’s hope be told. 
I looked, and knew that he was dead,
And fell, as the eagle on the plain
Falls when life deserts her brain, 1185
And the mortal lightning is veiled again.