stagnant air.

It serves to little purpose I may know That electric law Whereby the jagged glare and thunder-blow Latent impulse draw; No less my danger. Ha! that lightning flash Proclaims in fire the coming thunder-crash.

p. 93But what care I though deluges down pour Beating earth to mire, Though heaven shattering with the thunder’s roar Scorcheth now in fire, Though every planet molten from its place Should trickle lost through everlasting space;

p. 93

For this blank prospect, void of all but dread,  Void as any tomb, My soul has left; and by a lonely bed, In a girl’s sick room, Hangs there expectant of her parting breath, The silent voice of doom, the stroke of death.

p. 95PART THE SECOND.

p. 95

p. 97I. MY LADY IN DEATH.

p. 97

All is but coloured show. I look Into the green light shed By leaves above my head, And feel its inmost worth forsook My being, when she died. This heart, now hot and dried, Halts, as the parched course where a brook Mid flowers was wont to flow, Because her life is now No more than stories in a printed book.

Grass thickens proudly o’er that breast, Clay-cold and sadly still, My happy face felt thrill. How much her dear, dear mouth expressed! p. 98And now are closed and set Lips which my own have met! Her eyelids by the damp earth pressed! Damp earth weighs on her eyes; Damp earth shuts out the skies. My Lady rests her heavy, heavy rest.

p. 98

To see her high perfection sweep The favoured earth, as she With welcoming palms met me! How can I but recall and weep? Her hands’ light charm was such, Care vanished at their touch. Her feet spared little things that creep;  “For stars are not,” she’d say,  “More wonderful than they.” And now she sleeps her heavy, heavy sleep.

Immortal hope shone on that brow, Above whose waning forms Go softly real worms. p. 99Surely it was a cruel blow Which cut my Darling’s life Sharply, as with a knife; I hate my own that lets me grow As 

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