I felt more than I ever felt—
A stranger—utterly alone;
My very heart within me died,
And close I crouch'd to Evelyn's side;
His soothing words were soft and low,
Such as Love's lip alone can know.
He loved me—ay, loved is the word!
So lightly said, so vainly heard—
But I—the light of heaven was dim
To eyes that only look'd on him;
I listen'd—'twas to hear his voice;
I spoke—it was to win his ear;
I watch'd —it was to meet his eye;
I only lived when he was near;
His absence seem'd a void as deep,
As dark as is a dreamless sleep.
And was I happy?—no; still dread
Hung like the sword above my head;
My thoughts to other hopes would roam—
I knew his home was not my home;
I knew his name was not my name,
And I felt insecure through shame.
"Still less it recks how, day by day,
I saw the life of love decay;
The absent look, the careless word,
The anger by a trifle stirr'd,
And found that Evelyn's brow could be
Harsh, though that brow was bent on me.
—Brief be my tale, as was his love—
He, who had call'd on heaven above
To witness every vow he spoke—
May it record the vow he broke!
He loved another—calm and cold,
He wrote farewell!—and sent me gold.
He came not—perhaps he could not bear
To view what he had wrought—despair!
"I thought that I would see his face—
Secret I sought his dwelling-place,
A villa, where the river strays—
I had been there in happier days:
There was one room, whose windows led
To where the turf its carpet spread,
And shrubs and flowers a labyrinth wrought
Of bud and leaf—that room I sought:
’Twas late—I scarce could find my path
By the dim ray the starlight hath:
A lamp was burning in the room,
So faint it scarcely lit the gloom;
Yet lovely seem'd the light—it fell
Upon the face I loved so well.
He'd flung him on a couch to sleep—
Ah! how unequal seem'd our share,
For I was left to watch and weep,
And he lay calmly slumbering there.
How beautiful!—the open brow
Like morning, or like mountain snow;
