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... This art of concealment has greatly increas'd. 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 bird on the bough, or the bee on the blossom But at length the long twilight more deeply grew shaded, And the fair night the rosy horizon invaded. And the bee in the blossom, the bird on the bough, And, as each little sprightly and garrulous leaf They all seem'd to be saying 'Once more we're alone, And, thank Heaven, those tiresome people are gone!' III. Through the deep blue concave of the luminous air, Large, loving, and languid, the stars here and there, Like the eyes of shy passionate women, look'd down O'er the dim world whose sole tender light was their own, When Matilda, alone, from her chamber descended, Her forehead was aching and parch'd, and her breast A sadness which led her, she scarcely knew how, And she scarcely knew why... (save, indeed, that just now The house, out of which with a gasp she had fled pass'd O'er the once radiant face of his young wife? Whence came ... That long look of solicitous fondness? the same 'And love? . 'What was love, then? not calm, not secure scarcely kind! ... But in one, all intensest emotions combined: Life and death: pain and rapture. Thus wandering astray, Р Led by doubt, through the darkness she wander'd away. The swift-shooting stars through the infinite burn'd, And silently o'er the obscure and unknown In the heart of Matilda there darted and shone Thoughts, enkindling like meteors the deeps, to expire, Leaving traces behind them of tremulous fire, IV. She enter'd that arbour of lilacs, in which The dark air with odours hung heavy and rich, Like a soul that grows faint with desire. 'Twas the place In which she so lately had sat, face to face With her husband, and her, the pale stranger detested, Whose presence her heart like a plague had infested. The whole spot with evil remembrance was haunted. Through the darkness there rose on the heart which it daunted Each dreary detail of that desolate day, So full, and yet so incomplete. Far away The acacias were muttering, like mischievous elves, The whole story over again to themselves, Each word, and each word was a wound! By degrees Her memory mingled its voice with the trees. V. Like the whisper Eve heard, when she paused by the root Of the sad tree of knowledge, and gazed on its fruit, An image uncertain, VI. A light sound behind her. She trembled. By some On a sudden she felt, without turning to view, Her first instinct was flight; but she felt her slight foot As heavy as though to the soil it had root. And the Duke's voice retain'd her, like fear in a dream. |