Capitolo 75
Colour with candles of imagined sense,
It is musical with dreamt desire. I said me,
The day will certainly come on the world,
To sprinkle this sweet night of the imagination
With morning, verses on my dream-banqueted heart
Out of eyes of thine, Judith. And still me he/she anchors
Feared for my dream, also as an unmarried fears
His/her person's in love body. But, in the mean
Of this whole charm delaying,--sees Death
Leapt in our world, lording it, being standing enormous
In front of the future, looking at us!
You the seest now because, when the people came
Crying to be abandoned wildly to death,
Did I offer them aspects five days?--What me finally
It would stamp the image of my glorious dream
On the world, even if it is wax
And the fires are making to turn on that it has to melt out it.
Judith, you the hast now five more days to live
This life of beautiful passion and sweet sense:
And my love now comes to thee as an angel
To call out thee of thy visionary love
For lost Manasses, out of ghostly desire
And shades of dreams that are found soul of thy that is
Vainer that mine were, dreams of dear things that the death
Hath for never broken; and the life of lead thy
To a brief place of shadowless, in a hour
Splendid fact to face next night
From passion on sense that burns more greatly
What I/you/he/she redden lightning on gilded corn,
When the whole distance of the night echoes
With the approach of wind and terrible rain,
That March to torment down it to the earth.
Judith, we do so together not
Admirable death, yea, and it triumphs through
The gates of the anguish with a song of prouder
What it ever lifted the heart of a king that rode
Back from his/her war, with whipt of the nations in front of him,
In trumpeting Nineveh?
_Judith_.
You the fool,
Died it is not anything to me, and life is everybody.
But how ugly badly that I have made Ozias to thee,,
What you shouldsts go around so wrong envoy
In my life as these words of defiling?
_Ozias_.
Is it the defilement to feel spoken love?
_Judith_.
Yes! you hasts dirtied me: to know my beauty,
Wherewith I loved Manasses, and it still love,