 | Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven |  |
XCIV.
O'er cheek and brow a lively red was rushing,
While half he felt his dark eye could not tell;
Then (spent the pang of hope) cold dews were gushing
From brow again turned pale. He drooped; he fell
While half he felt his dark eye could not tell;
Then (spent the pang of hope) cold dews were gushing
From brow again turned pale. He drooped; he fell
Faint on his pillow. Unsurprised and calm,
Soon to restore, the good Pithoës knew:
He saw what fever raged, and knew its balm;
Spoke comfort to his charge; and for a while withdrew.
Soon to restore, the good Pithoës knew:
He saw what fever raged, and knew its balm;
Spoke comfort to his charge; and for a while withdrew.
| Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | |