Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/270

Rh In what a dreadful trap his creature here, Round whose unworthy neck he had meant to tie The honourable ribbon of his name, Fell unaware and came to butchery: Because,—I know him,—as he takes to heart The grief of every stranger, he’s not like To banish mine as far as I should choose In wishing him most happy. Now he leaves To think of me, perverse, who went my way, Unkind, and left him,—but if once he knew. . Ah, then, the sharp nail of my cruel wrong Would fasten me for ever in his sight, Like some poor curious bird, through each spread wing Nailed high up over a fierce hunter’s fire To spoil the dinner of all tenderer folk Come in by chance. Nay, since your Marian’s dead, You shall not hang her up, but dig a hole And bury her in silence! ring no bells.’

I answered gaily, though my whole voice wept, ‘We’ll ring the joy-bells, not the funeral-bells, Because we have her back, dead or alive.’

She never answered that, but shook her head; Then low and calm, as one who, safe in heaven, Shall tell a story of his lower life, Unmoved by shame or anger,—so she spoke. She told me she had loved upon her knees As others pray, more perfectly absorbed In the act and inspiration. She felt his,