Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/26

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Now warm in life and feeling, mingle soonWith the cold clod? a thought most horrible!So only dreadful, for realityIs none of suffering here; here all is peace;No nerve will throb to anguish in the grave.Dreadful it is to think of losing life;But having lost, knowledge of loss is not,Therefore no ill. Haste, Maiden, to repose;Probe deep the seat of life.”So spake DespairThe vaulted roof echoed his hollow voice,And all again was silence. Quick her heartPanted. He drew a dagger from his breast,And cried again, “Haste Damsel to repose!One blow, and rest for ever!” On the FiendDark scowl’d the Virgin with indignant eye,And dash’d the dagger down. He next his heartReplaced the murderous steel, and drew the MaidAlong the downward vault.The damp earth gave
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