Where the broad stream in shadow lay, The bridal barque kept on her way, While every breeze that swept them o'er, Brought loads of incense from the shore; Where each luxuriant jungle lay A wilderness of tangled flowers, And budding vines in wanton play Fell from the trees in leafy showers, Flinging their graceful garlands o'er The rippling stream and reedy shore; The lily bared its snowy breast, Swayed its full anthers like a crest, And softly from its pearly swell, A shower of golden powder fell Among the humbler flowers that lay And blushed their fragrant lives away; There oleanders lightly wreathed Their blossoms in a coronal, And the rich baubool softly breathed A perfume from its golden bell; There flower and shrub and spicy tree Seemed struggling for sweet mastery; And many a bird with gorgeous plume, Fluttered along the flowery gloom, Or on the spicy branches lay, Uttering a sleepy roundelay; While insects rushing out like gems, Or showery sparks at random flung, Through ripening fruit and slender stems There to the breathing blossoms clung, Studded the glowing boughs and threw O'er the broad bank a brilliant hue.
On--on they went; a fanning breeze Came sighing through the balmy trees, And undulating o'er the stream Rose tiny wavelets, like the gleam Of molten gold, and crested all With a bright trembling coronal, Like that which Brahmins in their dream Lavish upon the sacred stream. Then all grew still. The sultry air Lay stagnant in the jungles there-- The sun poured down his fervent heat; The river lay a burnished sheet; The floweret closed its withered bell; From the parched leaf the insect fell; The panting birds all tuneless clung To the still boughs, where late they sung; The dying blossoms felt the calm, And the still air was thick with balm. All things grew faint in that hot noon, As Nature's self lay in a swoon.
And she, that gentle, loving fair, How brooks her form the sultry air? Most patiently--but see her now! What fear convulses her pale brow? And why that half-averted eye, Watching his look so anxiously? The scarlet burning in his cheek-- Those lips all parched and motionless? Oh! do they fell disease bespeak? Or only simple weariness? One look! the dreadful certainty Wrings from her heart a stifled cry; And now half phrensied with despair, She rends the blossoms from her hair, And leaping to the vessel's side She drenched them in the sluggish tide; Then to the cushions where he lay, Senseless and fevered with disease, Panting his very life away, She rushed, and sinking to her knees, Raised softly up his throbbing head, And pillowed it upon her breast-- Then on his burning forehead laid The dripping flowers, and wildly pressed Her pallid mouth upon his brow, And drew him closer to her heart, As if she thought each trembling throe Could unto his, new life impart. Wildly to his she laid her cheek, And backward threw her loosened hair, That not a glossy curl might break From off his face the sluggish air. The noon swept by, and there was she Counting his pulses as they rose, Striving with broken melody To hush him to a short repose, Bathing his brow and twining still Her fingers in his burning hand, Her heart's blood stopping with a chill Whene'er he could not understand, Nor answer to her gentle clasp; But dashed that little hand away, Or crushed it with delirious grasp, Entreating tenderly her stay. Father of heaven! and must he die? She breathed in her heart's agony, As up with every painful breath, Came to his lips the foam of death, And o'er his swollen forehead played, Like serpents by the sun betrayed, The corded veins whose purple swell, With his hot pulses rose and fell.