 | Constance De Castile |  |
102
II.
Far different they by hope betray'd,Thou, Julian! and the hapless Maid!
They on the cliff where tempests swept
Through the long day sad vigils kept,
There commun'd with the evening star
Till night drove up her ebon car.
Then—ere they slowly left the steep,
Pale moon-beams saw the mourners weep,
And gazing on the vacant main
Shape in each cloud a sail—in vain.—
| Constance De Castile | |