II.

Bathed in the amber of an unseen flame, A royal couch with silken curtains fair Gleamed like a jewel in the alcove there; A dreamy languor stole through all my frame, Sweet beyond power of language to declare; A breath of perfume moved the swooning air, Stirring the golden ringlets of my dame; And while we faltered, lo, a small voice came: “O happy pair, with rosy forms aglow, Here lie within the temple’s deep alcove Sweet mysteries that I pant to have you know; Wine that hath stained the trampling feet of Love, And fruit that ripened in the sacred grove: Break every seal, and let the purple flow.”