553. The Death of Artemidora

‘ARTEMIDORA! Gods invisible,

While thou art lying faint along the couch,

Have tied the sandal to thy veinèd feet

And stand beside thee, ready to convey

Thy weary steps where other rivers flow.

Refreshing shades will waft thy weariness

Away, and voices like thine own come nigh

And nearer, and solicit an embrace.’

Artemidora sigh’d, and would have pressed

The hand now pressing hers, but was too weak.

Iris stood over her dark hair unseen

While thus Elpenor spake. He looked into

Eyes that had given light and life erewhile

To those above them, but now dim with tears

And wakefulness. Again he spake of joy

Eternal. At that word, that sad word, joy,

Faithful and fond her bosom heav’d once more:

Her head fell back; and now a loud deep sob

Swell’d thro’ the darken’d chamber; ’twas not hers.