The bridal of Vaumond A Metrical Romance |
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The bridal of Vaumond | ||
XXVI.
Quiver'd her pale lips—but no wordThe listless crowd of strangers heard;
“For this I fell”—a father's ear
Caught them alone; a father's tear
Fell on her sheeted cheek;
Then slowly op'd her eyes—their fire
Quench'd—to the fix'd gaze of her sire,
Their beamings such as show the cell
Where the world-worn anchorite doth dwell,
The sufferer's annals speak.
Lock'd was their grasp—and while they gaz'd,
So fix'd, that mournful glance uprais'd,
So deeply calm that passion chaste,
They knew not when the spirit past!
The bridal of Vaumond | ||