dials pointed to morn—

As the star-dials hinted of morn—

At the end of our path a liquescent

And nebulous lustre was born,

Out of which a miraculous crescent

Arose with a duplicate horn—

Astarte's bediamonded crescent,

Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said—"She is warmer than Dian;

She rolls through an ether of sighs—

She revels in a region of sighs.

She has seen that the tears are not dry on

These cheeks, where the worm never dies,

And has come past the stars of the Lion,

To point us the path to the skies—

To the Lethean peace of the skies—

Come up, in despite of the Lion,

To shine on us with her bright eyes—

Come up, through the lair of the Lion,

With love in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,

Said—"Sadly this star I mistrust—

Her pallor I strangely mistrust—

Ah, hasten!—ah, let us not linger!

Ah, fly!—let us fly!—for we must."

In terror she spoke; letting sink her

Wings till they trailed in the dust—

In agony sobbed; letting sink her

Plumes till they trailed in the dust—

Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied—"This is nothing but dreaming.

Let us on, by this tremulous light!

Let us bathe in this crystalline light!

Its Sibyllic splendor is beaming

With Hope and in Beauty to-night—

See!—it flickers up the sky through the night!

Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming

And be sure it will lead us aright—

We surely may trust to a gleaming

That cannot but guide us aright

Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,

And tempted her out of her gloom—

And conquered her scruples and gloom;

And we passed to the end of the vista—

But were stopped by the door of a tomb—

By the door of a legended tomb:—

And I said—"What is written, sweet sister,

On the door of this legended tomb?"

She replied—"Ulalume—Ulalume!—

'T is the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober

As the leaves that were crispéd and sere—

As the leaves that were withering and sere—

And I cried—"It