Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Death of Altheëtor
By Maria Gowen Brooks (Maria del Occidente) (1794?1845)S
She may not see him die. No groan!—she springs,
Frantic between a hope-beam and despair,
And twines her long hair round him as he sings.
Art hovering now, behold and pity me!
For love, hope, beauty, music, all that’s dear,
Look—look on me, and spare my agony!
The hateful cause, of this kind being’s death!
In pity kill me first! He lives! he draws—
Thou will not blast?—he draws his harmless breath!”
One hand o’er his fallen lyre; but all his soul
Is lost,—given up: he fain would turn to gaze,
But cannot turn, so twined. Now all that stole
Himself could not have told, all wound and clasped
In her white arms and hair. Ah! can they serve
To save him? “What a sea of sweets!” he gasped;
Still swelled the transport: “Let me look—and thank,”
He sighs, celestial smiles his lip inwreathing:
“I die—but ask no more,” he said, and sank—
As by soft sleep oppressed: so calm, so fair,
He rested on the purple tapestried floor,
It seemed an angel lay reposing there.