Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/160

 Lest she should fail and perish utterly, God, before whom ever lie bare The abysmal deeps of Personality, Plagued her with sore despair.

When she would think, where'er she turn'd her sight, The airy hand confusion wrought, Wrote, "Mene, mene," and divided quite The kingdom of her thought.

Deep dread and loathing of her solitude Fell on her, from which mood was born Scorn of herself; again, from out that mood Laughter at her self-scorn.

"What! is not this my place of strength," she said, "My spacious mansion built for me, Whereof the strong foundation-stones were laid Since my first memory?"