Message #196522

[Victoria Liss]

Tristram!--Tristram!--stay--receive me with thee!
Iseult leaves thee, Tristram! never more.

* * * *

You see them clear--the moon shines bright.
Slow, slow and softly, where she stood,
She sinks upon the ground;--her hood
Had fallen back; her arms outspread
Still hold her lover's hand; her head
Is bow'd, half-buried, on the bed.
O'er the blanch'd sheet her raven hair
Lies in disorder'd streams; and there,
Strung like white stars, the pearls still are,
And the golden bracelets, heavy and rare,
Flash on her white arms still.