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29
LUX MALIGNA.
Her eyes were like Cocytus' midnight deeps,When far in the transparent darkness sleeps
The moon, whose face, as the waves tremble, flashes
In oily ripples, mid the reedy lashes
Dying incessantly. Who would not shrink,
Shivering, from that sad stream's uncertain brink,
Fancying the noiseless volumes sliding o'er
Strange horrors unconceived, and brimmed with store
Of lizard-footed things? So none there were
Who loved those eyes, and the strange moonlight there.
An. æt. 18.
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