"Again, again--and oft again--my Love! 450 If there be life below, and hope above, He will return--but now, the moments bring The time of parting with redoubled wing: The why, the where--what boots it now to tell? Since all must end in that wild word--Farewell! Yet would I fain--did time allow--disclose-- Fear not--these are no formidable foes! And here shall watch a more than wonted guard, For sudden siege and long defence prepared: Nor be thou lonely, though thy Lord's away, 460 Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee stay; And this thy comfort--that, when next we meet, Security shall make repose more sweet. List!--'tis the bugle!"--Juan shrilly blew-- "One kiss--one more--another--Oh! Adieu!" She rose--she sprung--she clung to his embrace, Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face: He dared not raise to his that deep-blue eye, Which downcast drooped in tearless agony. Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms, 470 In all the wildness of dishevelled charms; Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt So full--_that_ feeling seem'd almost unfelt! Hark--peals the thunder of the signal-gun! It told 'twas sunset, and he cursed that sun. Again--again--that form he madly pressed, Which mutely clasped, imploringly caressed![hu] And tottering to the couch his bride he bore, One moment gazed--as if to gaze no more; Felt that for him Earth held but her alone, 480 Kissed her cold forehead--turned--is Conrad gone? XV. "And is he gone?"--on sudden solitude How oft that fearful question will intrude! "'Twas but an instant past, and here he stood! And now"--without the portal's porch she rushed, And then at length her tears in freedom gushed; Big, bright, and fast, unknown to her they fell; But still her lips refused to send--"Farewell!" For in that word--that fatal word--howe'er We promise--hope--believe--there breathes Despair. 490 O'er every feature of that still, pale face, Had Sorrow fixed what Time can ne'er erase: The tender blue of that large loving eye Grew frozen with its gaze on vacancy, Till--Oh, how far!--it caught a glimpse of him, And then it flowed, and phrensied seemed to swim Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes dewed With drops of sadness oft to be renewed. "He's gone!"--against her heart that hand is driven, Convulsed and quick--then gently raised to Heaven: 500 She looked and saw the heaving of the main: The white sail set--she dared not look again; But turned with sickening soul within the gate-- "It is no dream--and I am desolate!" XVI.