“The lovers met, and now a modest kiss
Lifts up the hero’s soul to laughing bliss.
Love feels the alarm, starts up in fond surprise,
And through his veins anew impetuous flies,
Inflames his soul, and sparkles through his eyes.” […]
“Graham sought the haughty chief. And now on high,
His sword that flam’d and lighten’d in the sky,
With whirlwind sound descends, and cleaves his head:
No force of motion could the stroke impede.
The yawning chasm well’d out a purple flood;
Forth rush’d the soul effus’d with with gushing blood.” […]
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