'Listen to me, my friend. What I wish to explain And turn'd pale, as she spoke. He winced, She had aim'd at his heart, And she saw, by his sudden and terrified start, 'Stay, Lucile!' he exclaim'd, 'What in truth do you mean by these words, vaguely framed 'To alarm me? Matilda?-my wife?-do you know?'— I know that your wife is as spotless as snow. But I know not how far your continued neglect 'Her nature, as well as her heart, might affect. 'Till at last, by degrees, that serene atmosphere Of her unconscious purity, faint and yet clear, 'Like the indistinct golden and vaporous fleece Which surrounded and hid the celestials in Greece From the glances of men, would disperse and depart 'At the sighs of a sick and delirious heart,— For jealousy is to a woman, be sure, 'A disease heal'd too oft by a criminal cure; 'And the heart left too long to its ravage, in time May find weakness in virtue, reprisal in crime.' V. 'Such thoughts could have never,' he falter'd, 'I know, 'Reach'd the heart of Matilda.' 'Matilda? oh no! t reflect! when such thoughts do not come of themselves To the heart of a woman neglected, like elves That seek lonely places,-there rarely is wanting 'Some voice at her side, with an evil enchanting 'To conjure them to her.' 'O lady, beware! 'At this moment, around me I search everywhere For a clue to your words' 'You mistake them,' she said, Half fearing, indeed, the effect they had made. I was putting a mere hypothetical case.' With a long look of trouble he gazed in her face. 'Woe to him, . . .' he exclaim'd... 'woe to him that shall feel 'Such a hope! for I swear, if he did but reveal 'One glimpse,-it should be the last hope of his life!' The clench'd hand and bent eyebrow betoken'd the strife She had roused in his heart. That you menace yourself. 'You forget,' she began, 'That is guilty. Alas! must it ever be so? 'You bid her be true to the laws you abjure; To abide by the ties you yourselves rend asunder, 'With the force that has fail'd you; and that too, when under 'The assumption of rights which to her you refuse, 'The immunity claim'd for yourselves you abuse ! 'That Heaven to your wife such a nature has given 'That you have not wherewith to reproach her, albeit 'You have cause to reproach your own self, could you see it!' VI. In the silence that follow'd the last word she said, ... VII. VIII. Lucile,' he replied, as that soft quiet hand 'Well?' In his own he clasp'd warmly, 'I both understand 'Thank Heaven!' she murmur'd, 'And obey you.' 'One word, I beseech you! I cannot forget.' O yet, He exclaim'd, 'we are parting for life. You have shown “Nay, I know not,' she murmur'd, 'I follow the way 'Heaven leads me; I cannot foresee to what end. 'I know only that far, far away it must tend From all places in which we have met, or might meet. 'Far away!-onward-upward !' A smile strange and sweet As the incense that rises from some sacred cup • Wheresoever it be, 'May all gentlest angels attend you!' sigh'd he, IX. From afar That kiss was, alas! by Matilda beheld Adroitly attracted towards it her look. By a faint but significant smile. The Duke X.. Much ill-construed, Renown'd Bishop Berkley has fully, for one, strew'd With arguments page upon page to teach folks That the world they inhabit is only a hoax. But it surely is hard, since we can't do without them, That our senses should make us so oft wish to doubt them! CANTO III. I. WHEN first the red savage call'd Man strode, a king, To the furbelow'd flounce and the broad crinoline ... Of my lady. you all know of course whom I mean A whole world lies cryptic in each human breast; ... II. In the group seen so lately in sunlight assembled 'Mid those walks over which the laburnum-bough trembled, And the deep-bosom'd lilac, emparadising The haunts where the blackbird and thrush flit and sing, The keenest eye could but have seen, and seen only, |