Analysis of Hermotimus

'Wilt not lay thee down in quiet slumber?
Weary dost thou seem, and ill at rest;
Sleep will bring thee dreams in starry number-
Let him come to thee and be thy guest.
Midnight now is past-
Husband! come at last-
Lay thy throbbing head upon my breast.'

'Weary am I, but my soul is waking;
Fain I'd lay me gently by thy side,
But my spirit then, its home forsaking,
Through the realms of space would wander wide-
Everything forgot,
What would be thy lot,
If I came not back to thee, my bride?'

'Music, like the lute of young Apollo,
Vibrates even now within mine ear;
Soft and silver voices bid me follow,
Yet my soul is dull and will not hear.
Waking it will stay:
Let me watch till day-
Fainter will they come, and disappear.'

'Speak not thus to me, my own-my dearest!
These are but the phantoms of thy brain;
Nothing can befall thee which thou fearest,
Thou shalt wake to love and life again.
Were this sleep thy last,
I should hold thee fast,
Thou shouldst strive against me but in vain.'

'Eros will protect us, and will hover,
Guardian-like, above thee all the night,
Jealous of thee, as of some fond lover
Chiding back the rosy-fingered light-
He will be thine aid:
Canst thou feel afraid
When
his
torch above us burneth bright?'

'Lo! the cressets of the night are waning-
Old Orion hastens from the sky;
Only thou of all things art remaining
Unrefreshed by slumber-thou and I.
Sound and sense are still;
Even the distant rill
Murmurs fainter now, and languidly.'

'Come and rest thee, husband!'-And no longer
Could the young man that fond call resist:
Vainly was he warned, for love was stronger-
Warmly did he press her to his breast.
Warmly met she his;
Kiss succeeded kiss,
Till their eyelids closed with sleep oppressed.

Soon Aurora left her early pillow,
And the heavens grew rosy-rich, and rare;
Laughed the dewy plain and glassy billow,
For the Golden God himself was there;
And the vapour-screen
Rose the hills between,
Steaming up, like incense, in the air.

O'er her husband sate Ione bending-
Marble-like and marble-hued he lay;
Underneath her raven locks descending,
Paler seemed his face, and ashen gray,
And so white his brow-
White and cold as snow-
'Husband! Gods! his soul hath passed away!'

Raise ye up the pile with gloomy shadow-
Heap it with the mournful cypress-bough!-
And they raised the pile upon the meadow,
And they heaped the mournful cypress too;
And they laid the dead
On his funeral bed,
And they kindled up the flames below.

Swiftly rose they, and the corse surrounded,
Spreading out a pall into the air;
And the sharp and sudden crackling sounded
Mournfully to all the watchers there.
Soon their force was spent,
And the body blent
With the embers' slow-expiring glare.

Night again was come; but oh, how lonely
To the mourner did that night appear!
Peace nor rest it brought, but sorrow only,
Vain repinings and unwonted fear.
Dimly burned the lamp-
Chill the air and damp-
And the winds without were moaning drear.

Hush! a voice in solemn whispers speaking
Breaks within the twilight of the room;
And Ione, loud and wildly shrieking,
Starts and gazes through the ghastly gloom.
Nothing sees she there-
All is empty air,
All is empty as a rifled tomb.

Once again the voice beside her sounded,
Low, and faint, and solemn was its tone-
'Nor by form nor shade am I surrounded,
Fleshly home and dwelling have I none.
They are passed away-
Woe is me! to-day
Hath robbed me of myself, and made me lone.'

'Vainly were the words of parting spoken;
Evermore must Charon turn from me.
Still my thread of life remains unbroken,
And unbroken ever it must be;
Only they may rest
Whom the Fates' behest
From their mortal mansion setteth free.'

'I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten-
Seen him wave afar his serpent-wand;
But to me the Herald would not listen-
When the dead swept by at his command,
Not with that pale crew
Durst I venture too-
Ever shut for me the quiet land.'

'Day and night before the dreary portal,
Phantom-shapes, the guards