But yielded to its sorrow.

That same night,

Lord L., whose sleep was neither vexed nor light,

And who for many years had ceased to dream,

Beheld a vision. Slowly he became

Aware of a strange light which in his eyes

Shone to his vast discomfort and surprise;

24

And, while perplexed with vague mistrusts and fears,

He saw a face, Griselda's face, in tears

Before him. She was standing by his bed

Holding a candle. It was cold, she said,

And shivered. And he saw her wrap her shawl

About her shoulders closely like a pall.

Why was she there? Why weeping? Why this light,

Burning so brightly in the dead of night?

These riddles poor Lord L.'s half-wakened brain

Tried dimly to resolve, but tried in vain.

"I cannot sleep to-night," went on the voice,

"The streets disturb me strangely with their noise,

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