 | Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven |  |
64
LXXXII.
Drew forth from scrip an antidotal balm,And, ere the venom through life's streams could creep,
Bestowed—for death's convulsions—dewy calm,
And steeped each throbbing vein in salutary sleep.
| Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | |