Where far over the world those vapours roll
Which blend two restless frames in one reposing soul?
37. 
It is the shadow which doth float unseen,
But not unfelt, o’er blind mortality, 2660
Whose divine darkness fled not from that green
And lone recess, where lapped in peace did lie
Our linked frames, till, from the changing sky
That night and still another day had fled;
And then I saw and felt.  The moon was high, 2665
And clouds, as of a coming storm, were spread
Under its orb,—­loud winds were gathering overhead.

38. 
Cythna’s sweet lips seemed lurid in the moon,
Her fairest limbs with the night wind were chill,
And her dark tresses were all loosely strewn 2670
O’er her pale bosom:—­all within was still,
And the sweet peace of joy did almost fill
The depth of her unfathomable look;—­
And we sate calmly, though that rocky hill,
The waves contending in its caverns strook, 2675
For they foreknew the storm, and the gray ruin shook.

39. 
There we unheeding sate, in the communion
Of interchanged vows, which, with a rite
Of faith most sweet and sacred, stamped our union.—­
Few were the living hearts which could unite 2680
Like ours, or celebrate a bridal night
With such close sympathies, for they had sprung
From linked youth, and from the gentle might
Of earliest love, delayed and cherished long,
Which common hopes and fears made, like a tempest, strong. 2685

40. 
And such is Nature’s law divine, that those
Who grow together cannot choose but love,
If faith or custom do not interpose,
Or common slavery mar what else might move
All gentlest thoughts; as in the sacred grove 2690
Which shades the springs of Ethiopian Nile,
That living tree which, if the arrowy dove
Strike with her shadow, shrinks in fear awhile,
But its own kindred leaves clasps while the sunbeams smile;

41. 
And clings to them, when darkness may dissever 2695
The close caresses of all duller plants
Which bloom on the wide earth—­thus we for ever
Were linked, for love had nursed us in the haunts
Where knowledge, from its secret source enchants
Young hearts with the fresh music of its springing, 2700
Ere yet its gathered flood feeds human wants,
As the great Nile feeds Egypt; ever flinging
Light on the woven boughs which o’er its waves are swinging.

42. 
The tones of Cythna’s voice like echoes were
Of those far murmuring streams; they rose and fell, 2705
Mixed with mine own in the tempestuous air,—­
And so we sate, until our talk befell
Of the late ruin, swift and horrible,
And how those seeds of hope might yet be sown,
Whose fruit is evil’s mortal poison:  well, 2710
For us, this ruin made a watch-tower lone,
But Cythna’s eyes looked faint, and now two days were gone