And still the music sounded near and near,

Preluding soft, as ’twere a dulcimer,
But gathering strength and volume with delay,
And sadness too. In truth, as strange a chaunt
As ever bridegroom’s ear might choose to know,
Or lover’s voice to listening lover vaunt,
(Thus Adrian argued in his dream) for, lo,
The dirge resolved itself to words of pain,
And “Miserere mei Domine”
Became the burden of its dolorous strain,
Till the love faded from Natalia’s glee,
And with a sudden shudder in the sun
Adrian awoke and his brave dream was done.

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