kindled her eyes with a fearful lustre—she raised her hand—so white, so spectral, that it scarcely cast a shadow in the moon-light.
"I summon him before a higher tribunal than his own, to meet me."
The effort was too much, and she sank on Mimi’s shoulder; a spasm wrung her features, and they set in the marble calmness of a corpse.
The King, her husband, died at the same hour: and, within a week, Mimi was laid at the feet of her mistress.
THE FIRST.
A lovely and a languid hour,
Long is the shadow on the flower,
And twilight with her first soft tears
Amid the cypress grove appears.
Listening for one beloved foot,
Sweeter to her than song or lute,
The ladye leans above the chords,
Deep in those thoughts that ask not words.
A little while hath she been bride
To him who lingers at her side,
As life had nothing left to show
More than that fairy form below.
c 2
