HOW THE ROSE BECAME RED. 
59 
blackened avenue of trees, up which the red ranks 
of the consuming lightning had ages agone marched. 
Every way, where the lengthened shadows of even¬ 
ing began to fall in deeper masses, the forest 
assumed a more savage look, which was heightened 
by the noise of some deadly-tusked boar, as he went 
snorting and thundering through the thicket; the 
growl of the tiger was also heard at intervals, as he 
retreated farther into the deepening darkness of the 
dingles, mistaking the blaze of sunset for some de¬ 
vouring fire. But the eyes of Yenus saw only the 
pale face of her lover,— she felt only his chilly and 
stiffened hand, sink colder and deeper into the warm 
heart on which she pressed it, and over which her 
tears fell, slower or faster, just as the mournful 
gusts of her sorrow arose or subsided, and sent the 
blinding rain from the blue-veined lids that over¬ 
hung her clouded eyes ; for never had her immortal 
heart before been swollen by such an overflowing 
torrent of grief. But the warmth of her kisses, 
which would almost have awakened life in a statue 
of marble, fell upon lips now cold as a wintry 
grave ; and her sighs, which came sweeter than 
the morning air when it first arises from its sleep 
amongst the roses, stirred not one of the clotted 
ringlets which softened into the yielding whiteness 
of her heavenly bosom,— 
