lingering shone, Then slowly closed, and hope for ever passed.

p. 106

A dreadful tremour ran through space When first the mournful toll Rang for My Lady’s soul. The shining world was hell; her grace Only the flattering gleam And mockery of a dream: Oblivion struck me like a mace, And as a tree that’s hewn I dropped, in a dead swoon, And lay a long time cold upon my face.

p. 107Earth had one quarter turned before My miserable fate Pressed down with its whole weight. My sense came back; and shivering o’er I felt a pain to bear The sun’s keen cruel glare, Which shone not warm as heretofore; And never more its rays Will satisfy my gaze: No more; no more; O, never any more.

p. 107

p. 109II. DAY DREAM.

p. 109

What art thou whispering lowly to thy babe, O wan girl-mother, with Madonna lids Downcast? Why pressest thou so close his pale Geranium cheek to thy yet whiter breast? Ah, doubtless sweet; to feel him draw the stream That fills with strength his lily limbs! And laughs Thine own heart with his deeply dimpled laughter, Answering straight thy dainty finger’s touch? And understandeth he that murmurous moan, Wherewith thou hushest, patting him to rest?

What visions charm thy gaze, now resting wide In settled sweet content? Beholdest thou Thy babe, now sprung a man, walk sunhazed slopes p. 110With one lovelier than visions; lovely as The truth, O Love, when thou dost smile on me? Or seest thou him still greater grown in might, And stout of action marching on to reach That changeful coloured flag, whose waving crests The glittering heights of fame, for which men pant; Unmindful there what tempests rage and sweep; Alas; what dream has made that watery veil Hide thine eye’s light from mine; even as a mist Passing between me and a harvest moon! And whence this shadowy wall that baulks my gaze? Why fadest thou, thyself, in mist, O Love? Whither hath fled thy babe—and where art thou?— Where am I?—Is it life—a dream—or death?

p. 110

Ah me; alas, this crushing wretchedness! And I a vainer fool than one who yearns Clutching at rainbows spanned across the sky! p. 111Ah, hope diseased! My spirit lured astray By siren hope drifts hard by some dark fate: And hope alternating despair has mixed My life so long with charnelled death, that I Can scarce resolve the present from my past, Nor 

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