XXVIII.

Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress, And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced To wake into a slumberous tenderness; Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept, Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness, 250 And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept, And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!--how fast she slept.