Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/945

 But she neither saw nor heard; And said he in her deaf ear All he had been wont to teach, All she had been fond to hear, Missall'd prayer, and solemn speech, But she answer'd not a word. Only when he turn'd to speak with those who wept about the bed, 'On your lives!' she shriek'd and cried, 'he is but newly dead!' Then how sadly he turn'd from her, it were wonderful to tell, And he stood beside the death-bed as by one who slumbers well, And he lean'd o'er him who lay there, and in cautious whisper low, 'He is not dead, but sleepeth,' said the Priest, and smooth'd his brow. 'Sleepeth?' said she, looking up, and the sun rose in her face! 'He must be better than I thought, for the sleep is very sound.' 'He is better,' said the Priest, and call'd her maidens round. With them came that ancient dame who nursed her when a child; O Nurse!' she sigh'd, 'O Nurse!' she cried, 'O Nurse!' and then she smiled, And then she wept; with that they drew About her, as of old; Her dying eyes were sweet and blue, Her trembling touch was cold; But she said, 'My maidens true, No more weeping and well-away; Let them kill the feast. I would be happy in my soul. "He is better," saith the Priest; He did but sleep the weary day, And will waken whole.