A flying splendour out of brass and steel, Now set a wrathful Dian's moon on flame, And now and then an echo started up, And shuddering fled from room to room, and died Of fright in far apartments. Then the voice Of Ida sounded, issuing ordinance : And me they bore up the broad stairs, and thro' And chariot, many a maiden passing home Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape, But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee? Ask me no more: what answer should I give? Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd: VII. So was their sanctuary violated, A kindlier influence reign'd; and everywhere Hung round the sick the maidens came, they talk'd, They sang, they read: till she not fair began But sadness on the soul of Ida fell, And hatred of her weakness, blent with shame. |