Chapter IV

Leave thou thy chamber and its spectral glooms;
Rise like the morn upon the mountains; stand,
My Rose of Dawn, among all lesser blooms,
And with white lilies mate each slender hand,
And let the sky grow glorious and blue
To match thine eyes! ... Come, Queen, and my Adored,
Clothed in thy splendour as I saw thee first!
Oh, come, ere I thwart Caesar on my sword,
And with my body pay him what is due!
Quench with thy lips on mine, O Heart, love's thirst.