XXXIV. I look'd on Leonor, and if there seem'd A cloud of more than pensiveness to rise, But the fond exile's pang, a lingering thought Of her own vale, with all its melodies And living light of streams. Her soul would rest Beneath your shades, I said, bowers of the gorgeous west! XXXV. Oh! could we live in visions! could we hold When it shuts from us, with its mantle's fold, Have been a language of familiar tone Too long to breathe, at last, dark sayings and unknown. XXXVI. I told my heart 'twas but the exile's woe Spoke of some deeper cause. How oft we seem Like those that dream, and know the while they dream, Midst the soft falls of airy voices griev'd, And troubled, while bright phantoms round them play, By a dim sense that all will float and fade away! XXXVII. Yet, as if chasing joy, I woo'd the breeze, To speed me onward with the wings of morn. -Oh! far amidst the solitary seas, Which were not made for man, what man hath borne, My lost and loveliest! while that secret care XXXVIII. For unto thee, as thro' all change, reveal'd XXXIX. Fall'n, fall'n, I seem'd-yet, oh! not less belov'd, Tho' from thy love was pluck'd the early pride, And harshly, by a gloomy faith reproved, And sear'd with shame!—tho' each young flower had died, There was the root,-strong, living, not the léss That all it yielded now was bitterness; Yet still such love as quits not misery's side, Nor turns away from death's its pale heroic face. XL. Yes! thou hadst follow'd me thro' fear and flight; Of the rais'd axe made strong men shrink with dread, And meekly bowing to the shame thy head— The might of human love-fair thing! so bravely true! XLI. There was thine agony-to love so well Where fear made love life's chastener.-Heretofore Whate'er of earth's disquiet round thee fell, Thy soul, o'erpassing its dim bounds, could soar Away to sunshine, and thy clear eye speak Most of the skies when grief most touch'd thy cheek. Now, that far brightness faded! never more Couldst thou lift heavenwards for its hope thy heart, Since at Heaven's gate it seem'd that thou and I must part. XLII. Alas! and life hath moments when a glance A word-less, less-the cadence of a word, Broke on my soul.-I knew that in thy sight I stood-howe'er belov❜d—a recreant from the light! XLIII. Thy sad sweet hymn, at eve, the seas along,— As it went floating through the fiery glow Of the rich sunset !-bringing thoughts of Spain, With all her vesper-voices, o'er the main, "Ave sanctissima!"-how oft that lay Hath melted from my heart the martyr-strength away! |