XLV.

And kist her icy lips--ah me, ’twas cold Reply to love that like a furnace glowed; Love that all lawless and forbidden told Its tale more fierce that o’er such bounds it strode-- The solemn bounds ’twixt Life and Death’s abode, ’Twixt Transience and Eternity! Her form Was fresh and pure, Decay could not corrode So soon its loveliness. Beltrán i’ the storm Still kist as if his breath her lifeless clay could warm.