Gh?" VII. But the bier she falleth over, And her shrieks are loud and shrill-- "I _will_ have my lord, my lover! In the grave I seek him still. Shall that godlike frame be wasted By the fire's consuming blight? Mine it was--yea mine! though tasted Only one delicious night!" But the priests, they chant ever--"We carry the old, When their watching is over, their journeys are told; We carry the young, when they pass from the light! VIII. "Hear us, woman! Him we carry Was not, could not be, thy spouse. Art thou not a Bayadere? So hast thou no nuptial vows. Only to death's silent hollow With the bo