XXVIII

Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced,

      Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,

      And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced

      To wake into a slumberous tenderness;

      Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,

      And breathed himself: then from the closet crept,

      Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,

      And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept,

And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!—how fast she slept.