University of Virginia Library

XIII.

There pass'd thro' his head
A fancy—a vision. That woman was dead
He had loved long ago—loved and lost! dead to him,
Dead to all the life left him; but there, in the dim
Dewy light of the dawn, stood a spirit; 'twas hers;
And he said to the soul of Lucile de Nevers,
‘O soul, to its sources departing away!
‘Pray for mine, if one soul for another may pray.
‘I to ask have no right, thou to give hast no power,
‘One hope to my heart. But in this parting hour
‘I name not my heart, and I speak not to thine.
‘Answer, soul of Lucile, to this dark soul of mine,
‘Does not soul owe to soul, what to heart heart denies,
‘Hope, when hope is salvation? Behold, in yon skies,
‘This wild night is passing away while I speak:
‘Lo, above us, the dayspring beginning to break!
‘Something wakens within me, and warms to the beam.
‘Is it hope that awakens? or do I but dream?
‘I know not. It may be, perchance, the first spark
‘Of a new light within me to solace the dark
‘Unto which I return; or perchance it may be
‘The last spark of fires half extinguish'd in me.
‘I know not. Thou goest thy way: I my own:
‘For good or for evil, I know not. Alone
‘This I know: my heart softens. The ghosts of old years
‘Seem appeased for a moment. Just now I shed tears;
‘And for those tears I thank thee. I should have sinn'd less,
‘Suffer'd less, if I could have wept more. I would bless
‘(I whose heart sought to curse thee!)—would bless thee, Lucile.
‘But what were my curse, or my blessing? I feel
‘This alone; we are parting. I wish'd to say more,
‘But no matter! 'twill pass. All between us is o'er.
‘Forget the wild words of to-night. 'Twas the pain
‘For long years hoarded up, that rush'd from me again.
‘I was unjust: forgive me. Spare now to reprove
‘Other words, other deeds. It was madness, not love,
‘That you thwarted this night. What is done is now done.
‘Death remains to avenge it, or life to atone.
‘I was madden'd, delirious! I saw you return
‘To him—not to me; and I felt my heart burn
‘With a fierce thirst for vengeance—and thus .... let it pass!
‘Long thoughts these, and so brief the moments, alas!
‘Thou goest thy way, and I mine. I suppose
‘'Tis to meet never more. Is it not so? Who knows,
‘Or who heeds, where the exile from Paradise flies?
‘Or what altars of his in the desert may rise?
‘Is it not so, Lucile? Well, well! Thus then we part
‘Once again, soul from soul, as before heart from heart!’