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mesmerism.
XXIV.
"Tell him thou lovest me." A wild, dumb strife,
A deep emotion stole
O'er that wan face. "I've given your statue life,
Your fair Undine a soul."
(Was that the wind's low piercing moan,
Or broke her heart in that faint groan?)
A deep emotion stole
O'er that wan face. "I've given your statue life,
Your fair Undine a soul."
(Was that the wind's low piercing moan,
Or broke her heart in that faint groan?)
XXV.
He turned to me, "I tell thee, she is mine,
We love, and we are young;
No other hand shall draw a song divine
From the sweet lute I strung;
My creature! whom I snatched from death!
My Eve! born of my very breath!
We love, and we are young;
No other hand shall draw a song divine
From the sweet lute I strung;
My creature! whom I snatched from death!
My Eve! born of my very breath!
XXVI.
"Canst thou not see I've drawn from thine her heart,
Each pulse and each desire?
Her very life is of my life a part,
Bound by a chord of fire;
Sprung from the joy of our embrace,
Earth yet shall see a nobler race!
Each pulse and each desire?
Her very life is of my life a part,
Bound by a chord of fire;
Sprung from the joy of our embrace,
Earth yet shall see a nobler race!
