THE COURT OF THE PROFANE. 
15 
Come !  Once again I call, I call, 
 I call, O perfect soul, to thee, 
With chants, and murmurs mystical, 
 And whispers wiser than the sea : 
O lover, come to me !  The pall 
 Of night is woven :  fair and free, 
Draw to my kisses, let thy breath 
Mingle for love the wine of death.