But pleasantness is light and versatile, And moods must change and tranquil breezes veer, And o'er this blissful hour there came a chill And sullen shadows slowly creeping near In lengthening lines, and murkier dusk took form Of all things ominous, disastrous, ill, And as a mid-day gloom portending storm, A lowering fate made prophecy of fear, And Atma knew the menace in the air, As ghostly shudderings of our fearful life Foretell the advent of th' assassin's knife. Low sank his heart before the augury (For life was dearer on this eventide Than e'er before), and all dismayed, he cried, "These are the heralds of calamity That bid me hence, for all too well I know The pensive pageantry of mortal woe; O Love, my Love, this sweetest love may flee But ever grief has cruel constancy, Late I bode me with dull-shrouded sorrow, And well I know her doleful voice again. Hark! the breezes from the nightshade borrow A heavy burden of lament and pain, And where Delight held lately sweet hey-day, Now like spectres pallid moonbeams play, Very still the little rosebud sleeps, Heavily the drooping myrrh tree weeps Sluggish tears upon the darksome mould." Quick then did Moti speak, by love made bold, "No cause is there, O Love, for sad affright, For I have read the portents of the night; Of envy dies the glowworm when the moon Is worshipped in the welkin, and the boon Of costly tears Dropped by the bleeding tree, to mortal cares Is healing balm; The rosebuds dream, Love, and the soft wind's sigh Is lullaby. And yet I know that sorry things befal Sometimes, withal, For once it was my grievous task to mourn A turtle-dove sore wounded by a thorn." "O sweetest Dove, May grief be far from thee, Who lovest sorrow when thou lovest me; But changeful love May yet be fixed by grief no more to rove, And we by woe be bound in constancy. O Roses, bear me witness of my truth, Death with my love were life a thousand-fold, Dear death were fairer than immortal youth Could it life's weal in friendly arms enfold. Dark Angel of the River's brink, draw near, In stable grasp this sovereign hour assure, Cast icy glamour o'er my love's sweet cheer, Forever then shall that dear love endure, An end of sweets fair Chance may hold in store Were death of all the changeful moods of time, And boundless being of my love's sweet prime.