90 
THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
And, pale as death, despoiFd of his array, 1 
Into the Queen^s apartment takes his way, > 
And stands before the bed at dawn of day : j 
Unmov'd his eyes, and wet his beard appears ; 1 
And shedding vain, but seeming real tears ; > 
The briny water dropping from his hairs ; j 
Then staring on her with a ghastly look, 
And hollow voice, he thus the Queen bespoke. 
"Know'st thou not me ? Not yet, unhappy wife 
Or are my features perish'd with my life ? 
Look once again, and, for thy husband lost, 
Lo, all that's left of him, thy husband's ghost ! 
Thy vows for my return were all in vain, 
The stormy south o'ertook us in the main. 
And never shalt thou see thy living lord again. 
Bear witness. Heaven, I calFd on thee in death. 
And while I calFd, a billow stopp'd my breath. 
Think not that flying fame reports my fate : 
I present, I appear, and my own wreck relate. 
Rise, wretched widow, rise ; nor undeplor'd 
Permit my soul to pass the Stygian ford ; 
But rise, prepared in black, to mourn thy perish'd 
lord/' 
Thus said the Player-God, and adding art 
Of voice and gesture, so perform'd his part. 
