 | The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems |  |
41
XXXI.
Years had pass'd by, and he, she lov'dBy absence, and by time reprov'd,
For men forget, where women sigh,
And rove, when frailer spirits die—
By high, adventure wrapt, and won,
Upon the distant seas had gone—
And so had fill'd the stirring time,
With scenes, perchance, of blood and crime,
That, thought of her he left behind,
Not often stole upon his mind.
No pleasant changes in her lot,
Had haply made him thus forgot—
Alas! already, much too dear,
His name was ever in her ear,
For he had dwelt in fields of fight,
And kept his fame so oft in sight,
That the faint flame of early days,
Had burst into a mighty blaze—
And love, with newer powers allied,
Beheld the hero's form with pride.
How could that innocent girl refrain,
From love of him, whom, all of Spain,
Beheld the first among the great—
She lov'd, admir'd, and bow'd to fate!
| The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems | |