13. They trembled, but replied not, nor obeyed, Pausing in breathless silence. Cythna sprung From her gigantic steed, who, like a shade _4560 Chased by the winds, those vacant streets among Fled tameless, as the brazen rein she flung Upon his neck, and kissed his mooned brow. A piteous sight, that one so fair and young, The clasp of such a fearful death should woo _4565 With smiles of tender joy as beamed from Cythna now. 14. The warm tears burst in spite of faith and fear From many a tremulous eye, but like soft dews Which feed Spring's earliest buds, hung gathered there, Frozen by doubt,--alas! they could not choose _4570 But weep; for when her faint limbs did refuse To climb the pyre, upon the mutes she smiled; And with her eloquent gestures, and the hues Of her quick lips, even as a weary child Wins sleep from some fond nurse with its caresses mild, _4575 15. She won them, though unwilling, her to bind Near me, among the snakes. When there had fled One soft reproach that was most thrilling kind, She smiled on me, and nothing then we said, But each upon the other's countenance fed _4580 Looks of insatiate love; the mighty veil Which doth divide the living and the dead Was almost rent, the world grew dim and pale,-- All light in Heaven or Earth beside our love did fail.-- 16. Yet--yet--one brief relapse, like the last beam _4585 Of dying flames, the stainless air around Hung silent and serene--a blood-red gleam Burst upwards, hurling fiercely from the ground The globed smoke,--I heard the mighty sound Of its uprise, like a tempestuous ocean; _4590 And through its chasms I saw, as in a swound, The tyrant's child fall without life or motion Before his throne, subdued by some unseen emotion.-- 17. And is this death?--The pyre has disappeared, The Pestilence, the Tyrant, and the throng; _4595 The flames grow silent--slowly there is heard The music of a breath-suspending song, Which, like the kiss of love when life is young, Steeps the faint eyes in darkness sweet and deep; With ever-changing notes it floats along, _4600 Till on my passive soul there seemed to creep A melody, like waves on wrinkled sands that leap. 18. The warm touch of a soft and tremulous hand Wakened me then; lo! Cythna sate reclined Beside me, on the waved and golden sand _4605 Of a clear pool, upon a bank o'ertwined With strange and star-bright flowers, which to the wind Breathed divine odour; high above, was spread The emerald heaven of trees of unknown kind, Whose moonlike blooms and bright fruit overhead _4610 A shadow, which was light, upon the waters shed.