And left unsaid the word, deception-free,

Which, like a flash, illumed the love within,

My wilfulness was much to blame therein;

But thou wilt shrive me, Sweet! of mine offence

If passion-pangs be deem'd so dark a sin.

xvi.

[47] 

[47]

Oh, give me back my soul that with the same

O

O

O

I may achieve a deed of poet-fame,

Or die belauded on the battle-field!

There's much to seek. My hand is strong to wield

Weapon or pen. If thou consent thereto

Deeds may be done. If not, thine eyes are blue

And Heaven is there,—a two-fold tender shrine

Whose wrath I fear, whose judgment still I rue!

xvii.

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