Haidée spoke not of scruples, asked no vows, Nor offered any; she had never heard Of plight and promises to be a spouse, Or perils by a loving maid incurred; She was all which pure Ignorance allows, And flew to her young mate like a young bird; And, never having dreamt of falsehood, she Had not one word to say of constancy. CXCI. She loved, and was belovéd--she adored, And she was worshipped after Nature's fashion-- Their intense souls, into each other poured, If souls could die, had perished in that passion,-- But by degrees their senses were restored, Again to be o'ercome, again to dash on; And, beating 'gainst _his_ bosom, Haidée's heart Felt as if never more to beat apart. CXCII. Alas! they were so young, so beautiful, So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour Was that in which the Heart is always full, And, having o'er itself no further power, Prompts deeds Eternity can not annul, But pays off moments in an endless shower Of hell-fire--all prepared for people giving Pleasure or pain to one another living. CXCIII. Alas! for Juan and Haidée! they were So loving and so lovely--till then never, Excepting our first parents, such a pair Had run the risk of being damned for ever: And Haidée, being devout as well as fair, Had, doubtless, heard about the Stygian river, And Hell and Purgatory--but forgot Just in the very crisis she should not. CXCIV. They look upon each other, and their eyes Gleam in the moonlight; and her white arm clasps Round Juan's head, and his around her lies Half buried in the tresses which it grasps; She sits upon his knee, and drinks his sighs, He hers, until they end in broken gasps; And thus they form a group that's quite antique, Half naked, loving, natural, and Greek. CXCV. And when those deep and burning moments passed, And Juan sunk to sleep within her arms, She slept not, but all tenderly, though fast, Sustained his head upon her bosom's charms; And now and then her eye to Heaven is cast, And then on the pale cheek her breast now warms, Pillowed on her o'erflowing heart, which pants With all it granted, and with all it grants.[cc] CXCVI. An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breast, A devotee when soars the Host in sight, An Arab with a stranger for a guest, A sailor when the prize has struck in fight, A miser filling his most hoarded chest, Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping. CXCVII.