'Which you saw with suspicion, that presence you eyed

'With resentment, an angel's they were at your side

And at mine; nor perchance is the day all so far, 'When we both in our prayers, when most heartfelt they are,

May murmur the name of that woman now gone

'Here, this evening, alone,

'I seek your forgiveness, in opening my heart
'Unto yours, from this clasp be it never to part!
'Matilda, the fortune you brought me is gone,

'But a prize richer far than that fortune has won

'It is yours to confer, and I kneel for that prize,

'Tis the heart of my wife!' With suffused happy eyes

She
sprang from her seat, flung her arms wide apart,
And tenderly closing them round him, his heart
Clasp'd in one close embrace to her bosom; and there
Droop'd her head on his shoulder; and sobb'd.

Not despair, Not sorrow, not even the sense of her loss,

Flow'd in those happy tears, so oblivious she was Of all save the sense of her own love! Anon, However, his words rush'd back to her. All gone, The fortune you brought me !'

And eyes that were dim

With soft tears she upraised: but those tears were for

him.

'Gone! my husband?' she said, 'tell me all! see! I need,

To sober this rapture, so selfish indeed,

'Fuller sense of affliction.'

'Poor innocent child!'

He kiss'd her fair forehead, and mournfully smiled,
As he told her the tale he had heard-something more
The gain found in loss of what gain lost of yore.

Rest, my heart, and my brain, and my right hand

for you;

'And with these, my Matilda, what may I not do?

You know not, I knew not myself till this hour, 'Which so sternly reveal'd it, my nature's full power.' And I too,' she murmur'd,' I too am no more

'The mere infant at heart you have known me before. 'I have suffer'd since then. I have learn'd much in life.

6

O take, with the faith I have pledged as a wife,

The heart I have learn'd as a woman to feel!

'For I-love you, my husband!'

As though to conceal Less from him, than herself, what that motion express'd, She dropp'd her bright head, and hid all on his breast. O lovely as woman, beloved as wife!

Evening star of my heart, light for ever my

life!

'If from eyes fix'd too long on this base earth thus far

'You have miss'd your due homage, dear guardian star,

Believe that, uplifting those eyes unto heaven,

There I see you, and know you, and bless the light

given

To lead me to life's late achievement; my own, 'My blessing, my treasure, my all things in one!'

XII.

How lovely she look'd in the lovely moonlight,
That stream'd thro' the pane from the blue balmy night!

How lovely she look'd in her own lovely youth,
As she clung to his side full of trust, and of truth!
How lovely to him, as he tenderly press'd
Her young head on his bosom, and sadly caress'd
The glittering tresses which now shaken loose
Shower'd gold in his hand, as he smooth'd them!

XIII.

O Muse,

Interpose not one pulse of thine own beating heart "Twixt these two silent souls! There's a joy beyond art, And beyond sound the music it makes in the breast.

XIV.

Here were lovers twice wed, that were happy at least! No music, save such as the nightingales sung,

Breath'd their bridals abroad; and no cresset, uphung, Lit that festival hour, save what soft light was given From the pure stars that peopled the deep-purple heaven.

He open'd the casement: he led her with him,

Hush'd in heart, to the terrace, dipp'd cool in the dim Lustrous gloom of the shadowy laurels. They heard Aloof the invisible, rapturous bird,

With her wild note bewildering the woodlands: they saw Not unheard, afar off, the hill-rivulet draw

His long ripple of moon-kindled wavelets with cheer From the throat of the vale; o'er the dark-sapphire sphere

The mild, multitudinous lights lay asleep,

Pastured free on the midnight, and bright as the sheep

Of Apollo in pastoral Thrace; from unknown
Hollow glooms freshen'd odours around them were

blown

Intermittingly; then the moon dropp'd from their sight,
Immersed in the mountains, and put out the light
Which no longer they needed to read on the face
Of each other's life's last revelation.

The place

Slept sumptuous round them; and Nature, that never
Sleeps, but waking reposes, with patient endeavour
Continued about them, unheeded, unseen,
Her old, quiet toil in the heart of the green
Summer silence, preparing new buds for new blossoms,
And stealing a finger of change o'er the bosoms

Of the unconscious woodlands; and Time, that halts not
His forces, how lovely soever the spot

Where their march lies-the wary, grey strategist, Time,
With the armies of Life, lay encamp'd-Grief and Crime,
Love and Faith, in the darkness unheeded; maturing,
For his great war with man, new surprises; securing
All outlets, pursuing and pushing his foe
To his last narrow refuge-the grave.

XV.

Sweetly though

Smiled the stars like new hopes out of heaven, and sweetly

Their hearts beat thanksgiving for all things, completely Confiding in that yet untrodden existence

Over which they were pausing. To-morrow, resistance And struggle; to-night, Love his hallow'd device Hung forth, and proclaim'd his serene armistice.

CANTO V.

I.

WHEN Lucile left Matilda, she sat for long hours
In her chamber, fatigued by long over-wrought powers,
'Mid the signs of departure, about to turn back
To her old vacant life, on her old homeless track.
She felt her heart falter within her. She sat
Like some poor player, gazing dejectedly at
The insignia of royalty worn for a night;
Exhausted, fatigued, with the dazzle and light,
And the effort of passionate feigning; who thinks
Of her own meagre, rushlighted garret, and shrinks
From the chill of the change that awaits her.

II.

From these

Oppressive, and comfortless, blank reveries,
Unable to sleep, she descended the stair
That led from her room to the garden.

The air,

With the chill of the dawn, yet unris'n, but at hand,
Strangely smote on her feverish forehead. The land
Lay in darkness and change, like a world in its grave:
No sound, save the voice of the long river wave,
And the crickets that sing all the night!