Till now at noon she slept again, And seem'd knee-deep in mountain grass, She breathed in sleep a lower moan, V. Dreaming, she knew it was a dream : She felt he was and was not there. ; She whisper'd, with a stifled moan VI. And, rising, from her bosom drew Old letters, breathing of her worth, For " Love," they said, "must needs be true, To what is loveliest upon earth." An image seem'd to pass the door, So be alone for evermore." 66 O cruel heart," she changed her tone, 66 And cruel love, whose end is scorn, Is this the end to be left alone, To live forgotten, and die forlorn !" VII. But sometimes in the falling day An image seem'd to pass the door, To look into her eyes and say, "But thou shalt be alone no more." And flaming downward over all From heat to heat the day decreased, 66 The day to night," she made her moan, "The day to night, the night to morn, And day and night I am left alone To live forgotten, and love forlorn." VIII. At eve a dry cicala sung, There came a sound as of the sea; Backward the lattice-blind she flung, And lean'd upon the balcony. There all in spaces rosy-bright Large Hesper glitter'd on her tears, And weeping then she made her moan, To live forgotten, and love forlorn." ELEANORE. THY dark eyes open'd not, Nor first reveal'd themselves to English air, Which, from the outward to the inward brought, Far off from human neighbourhood, Thou wert born, on a summer morn, A mile beneath the cedar-wood. Thy bounteous forehead was not fann'd With breezes from our oaken glades, At the moment of thy birth, From old well-heads of haunted rills, And shadow'd coves on a sunny shore, The choicest wealth of all the earth, Or the yellow-banded bees, Coming in the scented breeze, Fed thee, a child, lying alone, With whitest honey in fairy gardens cull'dA glorious child, dreaming alone, In silk-soft folds, upon yielding down, With the hum of swarming bees Into dreamful slumber lull'd. Who may minister to thee? Summer herself should minister To thee, with fruitage golden-rinded Sleepeth over all the heaven, And the crag that fronts the Even, Crimsons over an inland mere, How Eleänore! may full-sail'd verse express, Of thy swan-like stateliness, |