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For its cycle hath no boundary, and its 2 lordliness no

peers. Thrice we met and thrice were sever'd, this the last sad

farewell sound

Ere earth’s links should bind, we whisper'd, those Heaven

had already bound.

'Twas a night of clouds and tempests sweeping through

the void of black, Every sad blast through the forest given in sadder echoes

back, Till they died among the cloisters with a melancholy cry As of restless moaning waters or dark spectres hurrying

by. And dear thoughts would rise within me with their weep

ing train of woes, But I shut my heart upon them, chased them ever as they

rose, Rambled on through fancy labyrinths, dreaming o'er my

Adeline, Threw me on my couch, and sleeping still dreamt on that And I thought she look'd upon me with her own un

dream divine.

1“Listening the lordly music flowing on

The illimitable years." — TENNYSON's Ode to Memory.

troubled gaze,

Blushing while my silent rapture praised as language

could not praise : But beneath my eye her beauty grew to deepness more

intense, All that could be earthly melting into heavenlier innocence. Brother, Sleep hath eyes — and silence hears strange

sounds at midnight hours, Wonder then unbars the caverns of her phantom-haunted

towers, And we see prophetic visions — but, oh! never till that


Saw I with my earnest eyes the secrets of night's lonely


At her beauty I was troubled, so unearthly bright, and

deep, And I felt a cold misgiving stealing through my feverish

sleep. Brother, list! my dreams were startled ; in my couch I

sate upright; And I wildly gazed around me - not a star was in the


But a mild and chasten'd radiance softly streaming fill'd

my room, Centring round her angel figure - even in death my light

in gloom. Yes, she stood there. from her eye the tears fell silently

and fast; If

ye will, fond human frailty still victorious to the last : Tears aye well she knew the iron soon would rive this

quivering heart: Tears – her home was far away, and I an exile, we must

part. But methinks I could have borne far easier bosom-rending

groans Than that mournful boding silence, and I cried in passion

ate tones, “Am I dreaming? oh, beloved, gaze I on thee there

awake ? Wherefore weepest thou ? Speak — speak, for soon this

bursting heart will break! Hast thou left me then for ever, here upon this desolate

shore ? Thou my only fellow-pilgrim — speak, speak, art thou

mine no more?”

And she spoke — her voice was music, music over waters

heard, The deep waters of that grief that in her bosom's depths

was stirr'd.

“ Yes, mine own one, we are parted, such as time and space

can part — But for ever and for ever we are one in soul and heart: This shall seal me thine” — and speaking nearer to my

side she press'd, Till the bright apparel brush'd me flowing o'er her angel


Words may never tell my rapture, blent with awe serenely

proud, As I felt her presence bending o'er me like a golden

cloud, As a moment on my bosom beat responsively her own, As her lips touch'd mine — and in a moment I was there

- alone. Nothing saw I but the midnight's funeral blackness in my

room, Nothing heard I but the wind and raindrops driving through

the gloom : All my being, that had lately bloom'd with flowers and

teem'd with springs,

Seem'd one dreary vast " alone,” a barren wilderness of

things. Aye alone

the spell of sunshine that had fallen on my track, Now was far beyond the clouds, its native sky had call’d it

back: I was left o'er moor and mountain still to wander wearily, And the dead leaves round me telling, Autumn had come

soon for me.

Endless seem'd the hours of darkness, yet they wore at

last away,

And the morning dawn'd, though morning, still to me a

midnight day. She was dead, I knew more surely than if I had seen her

die, But grief clings to fragile anchors when the storms are

hurtling by. So at morning set I forth my heartless hopeless way to

wend, Sorrow clinging round my journey, sorrow brooding at the


But one met me, and he wept — I knew his tale ere he


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