LUISA.
“Just like Love is yonder Rose,
Heavenly sweetness round it throws,
And in the midst of briars it blows,
Just like Love!”
Camoens.
I stood at eve upon the furrowed shore
With One, that as the tide its legions filed
Unto our feet, stooped down, and o'er and o'er
Wrote on the sand that only name, and smiled—
The stern, self-mocking smile joy owns no more—
To see the waves efface it. “Far more slow,”
He said, “are Time's dull waters in their flow
To wear away that name where it is writ
And graven deep, as with a pointed gem,
Upon the rock; yet vain to cancel it
All else, so must I leave it unto them!
This name, that I in weakness of self-scorn,
With idle finger have dishonoured thus,
Fair-written once in letters luminous,
Was shut and clasped within my heart's great Book—
For ever, as I deemed! rude hands have torn
Those pages from my life, but Memory
Hath kept them; yet for sadness scarce can brook
Within that rifled volume now to look,
Or shut its golden clasps without a sigh!
