The Phoenix By George Darley.

From ‘Nepenthe’, Canto I.

Part

3 of 4.

Slowly to crimson embers turn
The beauties of the brightsome one.
O’er the broad nest her silver wings
Shook down their wasteful glitterings;
Her brinded neck high-arch’d in air
Like a small rainbow faded there;
But brighter glow’d her plumy crown
Mouldering to golden ashes down;
With fume of sweet woods, to the skies,
Pure as a Saint’s adoring sighs,
Warm as a prayer in Paradise,
Her life-breath rose in sacrifice!
The while with shrill triumphant tone
Sounding aloud, aloft, alone,
Ceaseless her joyful deathwail she
Sang to departing Araby!