CII.

Perchance she died in youth--it may be, bowed With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb That weighed upon her gentle dust: a cloud Might gather o'er her beauty, and a gloom In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom Heaven gives its favourites[481]--early death--yet shed A sunset charm around her, and illume With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead, Of her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf-like red.