OBITUARY. 235 
Paused on the first step of the ebon throne, 
And towered erect thy stature like a god’s, 
While with full eye thou frontedst Pluto’s frown, 
And from the lyre there rang one closing chord 
That pulsated throughout the dim expanse 
With wild intensest pathos of appeal. 
“O swift upon my heart there flashed a sense 
Of all thy music meant! It was for me— 
For me, thy lost Hurydice,—that Hell 
EKchoed thy dauntless footsteps and the notes 
That changed it to a palace of delight. 
“When silence had devoured that utterance 
Of quenchless love, the voice of Pluto spake ;— 
‘ Orpheus—for none but thou could make the lyre 
A thousand times more eloquent than speech,— 
Ask what thou wilt, and take as god from god.’ 
««¢ Pluto,’ thou saidst, ‘I ask Hurydice, 
Reft from me by the hateful serpent’s tooth, 
And dwelling now in this thy drear domain.’ 
“The great deep gaze of Pluto lit on me, 
Piercing through all the shadowy throng of souls ; 
And some strange tumult inly troubled me, 
As on that day among the Thracian flowers, 
And in the hearing of Algean waves, 
When first | knew that thou wert surely mine. 
But though I strove to reach thee, I was stayed 
As by a triple chain, and sadly ware 
That thy swift-searching vision saw me not. 
“‘ And then the voice of him who rules the Shades 
Spake yet again ;—‘ Hurydice is thine, 
All-daring Orpheus, and will follow thee 
Now to the upper air. But curb thy love 
Until again thou look upon the sun, 
For if thou turn to feast triumphant eyes 
Upon her beauty in this nether realm, 
Know well that thou wilt never see her more.’ 
‘‘ Obeisance made for Pluto’s kingly grace, 
Ah! with what gladsome mien didst thou address 
Thy step heroic to the upward way, 
The while thy hand caressed the living lyre 
Into rich melody, subdued but full 
Of passionate joy in Love that conquers Death. 
And I, drawn onward by those magic tones, 
Nor unattended by the envying souls, 
Followed as in a dream. ‘The way was lone, 
And girt with utter blackness, till at length 
From far came rays of white and wavering light, 
Paining the fragile ghosts, who shrunk away, 
And left in lonely progress thee and me. 
