312 UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO STUDIES 



"Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead ; 



See, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes, 



Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies 



A tear some dream has loosened from his brain." 



Lost Angel of a ruined Paradise ! 



She knew not 'twas her own ; as with no stain 



She faded, like a cloud which had out wept its rain. 



One from a lucid urn of starry dew 



Washed his light limbs, as if embalming them ; 



Another dipt her profuse locks and threw 



The wreath upon him, like an anadem, 



Which frozen tears instead of pearls begem ; 



Another in her wilful grief would break 



Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem 



A greater loss with one which was more weak ; 



And dull the barbed fire against his frozen cheek. 



Another Splendour on his mouth alit. 



That mouth whence it was wont to draw the breath 



Which gave it strength to pierce the guarded wit. 



And pass into the panting heart beneath 



With liuhtning and with music ; the damp death 



Quenched its caress upon its icy lips ; 



And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath 



Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, 



It flushed through his pale limbs, and passed to its eclipse. 



These stanzas are evidently suggested and elaborated from 

 Bion, 79-86. 



Beautiful Adonis reposes in robes of purple and about him the 

 Loves make moan and weep, clipping their locks in grief for Adonis. 

 One treads upon his arrows, another upon his bow, and another 

 brings his well feathered quiver ; one loosens the sandal of Adonis ; 



