A wide, wide sea! and on it rear and van Amid the stars, the silent meteors ran All that still night, and Julio with a cry Woke up, and saw them flashing fiercely by. * * * * * * Full three times three, its awful veil of night Hath Heaven hung before the blessed light; And a fair breeze falls o’er the sleeping sea, When Julio is watching Agathè! By sun and darkness hath he bent him over— A mad, moon-stricken, melancholy lover! And hardly hath he tasted, night or day, Of drink or food, because of Agathè! He sitteth in a dull and dreary mood, Like statue in a ruin’d solitude, Bearing the brent of sunlight and of shade, Over the marble of some colonnade. The ladye, she hath lost the pearly hue Upon her gorgeous brow, where tresses grew Luxuriantly as thoughts of tenderness, That once were floating in the pure recess Of her bright soul. These are not as they were; But are as weeds above a sepulchre, Wild waving in the breeze: her eyes are now Sunk deeply under the discolor’d brow, That is of sickly yellow, and pale blue Unnaturally blending. The same hue Is on her cheek. It is the early breath Of cold corruption, the ban-dog of death, Falling upon her features. Let it be, And gaze awhile on Julio, as he Is gazing on the corse of Agathè! In truth, he seemeth like no living one, But is the image of a skeleton: A fearful portrait from the artist tool Of madness—terrible and wonderful! There was no passion there—no feeling traced Under those eyelids, where had run to waste All that was wild, or beautiful, or bright; A very cloud was cast upon their light, That gave to them the heavy hue of lead; And they were lorn, lustreless, and dead! He sate like vulture from the mountains gray, Unsated, that had flown full many a day O’er distant land and sea, and was in pride Alighted by the lonely ladye’s side.