Who did not love her better;-in her home, As if its lid were charged with unshed tears. And he who had so loved her was not there To trouble with bad hopes, or evil wish, 130 What could her grief be?—she had loved him not, Nor given him cause to deem himself beloved, 141 Nor could he be a part of that which prey'd Upon her mind-a spectre of the past. VI. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.— Her face was fair, but was not that which made The selfsame aspect, and the quivering shock That in the antique Oratory shook His bosom in its solitude; and then 150 As in that hour-a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced, and then it faded as it came, And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke Not that which was, nor that which should have been But the old mansion, and the accustom'd hall, 160 And the remembered chambers, and the place, The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade, And her who was his destiny, came back And thrust themselves between him and the light: What business had they there at such a time? VII. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. As by the sickness of the soul; her mind Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes 170 The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts And forms impalpable and unperceived Of others' sight familiar were to her's. And this the world calls phrenzy; but the wise Have a far deeper madness, and the glance What is it but the telescope of truth? . 180 VIII. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.- The beings which surrounded him were gone, 190 He fed on poisons, and they had no power, But were a kind of nutriment; he lived Through that which had been death to many men, He held his dialogues; and they did teach To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss reveal'd A marvel and a secret-Be it so. 200 IX. My dream was past; it had no further change. Of these two creatures should be thus traced out Almost like a reality—the one To end in madness-both in misery. |